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multifandom-worlds · 1 year

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Late Night Visitor

Genre: Angst/fluff

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: This both follows canon and does not follow canon. Also written from Loki's POV.

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @thomase1 @lokiprompts

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any Loki-related content I make!

I have been on the run from the Avengers for quite some time now. For the most part, it’s easy to elude them - they may have a couple of geniuses, an assassin and my brother on their team, but collectively, they are not as bright as they may seem.

Or so I once believed.

I had received word that they were trying to use my wife as bait to get me to turn myself in. It appeared as though Thor had told the Avengers that my Queen, my perfect wife, would be the easiest way to get to me because due to how fiercely protective of her I am. No one touches her without my permission. Many men have fallen when they think of trying me regarding my wife.

They had sent me a video of her tied to a chair, bloodied and bruised, tears in her eyes, begging me to turn myself in, and in return; they would let her go. The video was convincing, hearing her plead with me, begging me to turn myself in. I almost went to the compound to free my most precious one from them until I noticed something. A wink; right at the end of the video. It was subtle, barely noticeable if you don’t know her as I do.

She’s playing them—the little fox.

It has been months since I’ve held my wife in my arms, ran my fingers through her hair, and breathed in the scent of her shampoo. I missed her terribly, but we needed to keep to the plan - she had to get away from them and back into her house before we could see one another again. It wasn’t easy, but I finally got the message I had been waiting months for.

“I’m finally back home. They have Thor standing guard outside and Tony has cameras on the perimeter of my yard. Do be careful, my sweet. I’ll be waiting for you.”

She was correct in that Thor was standing on the front porch by the door, arms crossed, scanning the grounds. Slipping past him shouldn’t be difficult; getting past the cameras is another story entirely. Invisibility is out - the cameras would pick up on movement. Perhaps my brother would let Steve pass the front doors. One moment I am Loki, God of Mischief, the next, a righteous blonde in a skin-tight uniform.

Strolling up the driveway, mimicking Steve’s walk to the best of my abilities, I greet my brother casually, making up a believable lie on the spot; “Fury sent me to sweep the house, make sure Loki hasn’t snuck by and entered the house. He is a masterful trickster, after all.”

Thor, being the absolute fool he is, believed my lie and stepped aside, allowing me access to the front door of our home. Just a few more steps, and I'll be free to be with my wife. Closing the door behind me and bolting the lock, checking all the doors and windows on the first level to ensure my Queen locked them all before I ascend the stairs, carefully examining any more cameras.

Doing a quick sweep of the upstairs windows, ensuring they're locked and curtains drawn, I transform into myself before greeting my wife. Much to my surprise, the bedroom was empty, the bed in shambles. Panic begins to grow - what if she did betray me? Could she really be working for the avengers to make me turn myself in? Would she do that to me…? Who am I kidding? Of course, she would; anyone with half a brain would turn me in, and my sweetheart was intelligent.

Sitting on the bed, the uneasy feeling of panic morphs into anger - anger at the Avengers for taking my wife, anger at Thor for telling them about my wife to begin with and anger at my wife for betraying me, setting me up. The anger builds, only dissipating by the sound of water being jostled. Standing up, I walk to the ensuite bathroom, carefully opening the door to see my wife, eyes closed, lying in the tub, only illuminated by the flickering of a candle on the vanity. The creaking of the door hinges alerted her to my presence.

Her eyes opened and locked on mine, reflecting the soft flickering of candlelight. “What took you so long, my love?”

How am I supposed to tell her I believed she would betray me? How can I tell my wife that my trust in her wained when she gave me no reason to? “I needed to get past your bodyguard,” I respond before shrugging off my jacket. It was not entirely a lie, but even that was enough to make me feel weird. I have never lied to my wife, and I never planned on it. Yet here I am, lying right to her face.

She giggles before responding to me. "Loki, the God of Mischief, had a hard time slipping past one person? Never thought I'd see the day." She sits up slowly, careful not to jostle the water too much, making room for me. The unspoken understanding between us is one of my favourite things about being married to her. She understands more than anyone else ever has.

Sitting down in the warm water just behind her, once my clothes were stripped from my body, she relaxed against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder, eyes closed again. Times like this make me question if I'm doing the right thing. Is all this worth putting her at risk constantly?

She must have noticed my sigh because she tilts her head back further to look at me. "Penny, for your thoughts, my God?" She inquires, her tone gentle and warm. I know I should tell her, but I really can’t. Not right now. Not after I just got her back.

I shake my head, kissing her forehead, frankly just happy to be back with her. "Nothing, my Queen. Just glad to be back with you. I have missed you so much. I hope the Avengers weren't bad to you; they didn't hurt you, did they? The video they sent…" She interrupts me, answering my question.

“No, they weren’t; Thor saw to that. He knew better than to let them harm me and turn you against them. The girls were lovely; I liked spending time with Natasha and Wanda. If the circumstances were different, I could see myself being friends with them." She paused, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing.

"It was makeup in that video. Thor wouldn't allow anyone to harm me physically. It took a lot of convincing to let them let me go and come back home, but I’m back where I belong - in the arms of my only love.” She rests her hands on top of mine, which rests on her stomach, lacing her fingers with mine. I will never get used to her tenderness, and I will never forgive Father for throwing her out of Asgard simply for loving me.

I remained silent for several minutes, allowing the words to settle into my mind, igniting the guilt I felt in a fiery blaze - she could have friends. She could make a life for herself here in this realm, but in all my anger, I ruined that chance for her. I destroyed her chance to be happy. There is no way for me to take back what I have done, all the innocent people I’ve killed, the homes I have levelled, the families I've torn apart in retribution. I would take it all back if my wife got to live a life she wanted, one of happiness, not burdened by royal rule or the scrutiny for falling for the wrong brother. I should have given her the life she truly deserved, but I ruined it.

I sit with my thoughts and feelings, mulling them over in my mind, trying to find a way to voice my concerns to her when she speaks first as if reading my mind.

“They’re lovely people, and sure, maybe we could be friends, but I’m not giving up the man I love for that. There is nothing in this world and the next that I want more than you, Loki Laufeyson. I don’t care if I got my ass thrown out of Asgard for taking you as my husband as opposed to Thor; I wouldn’t be happy with him. I know that, Thor knows that, and Odin even knew that. You are the one I am meant to be with.” A faint giggle slips from her lip before her next part: "Thor's far too righteous for me. Life would be boring with him"

Any words I wanted to say got lost on their way to my tongue. All I can do in response is hug her closer to my body, holding her tightly. Our time is limited; I need to ensure I get the most out of my time with her. I struggled to believe how she could have had it all, yet she still settled for her.

Her words sound again in the comfortable silence of the darkened bathroom.

“Let’s go to bed, Loki.”

“It would be my honour, my dear.”

After helping her up and out of the tub, I step out myself, pulling the drain and watching the water slowly disappear, memorized by the swirling water. She was already changed and in the bedroom, by the time I could pull my attention away and dry myself off. Slipping on a pair of pyjamas that we bought shortly after arriving in this world, I join her in bed - the previous thoughts still haunting my brain. Again, she noticed and was not taking no for an answer this time.

“Loki Laufeyson, what is going through your mind now, love? I know it’s something. Fill me in, bring me into your world; I’m with you, whatever it is.” She takes my hand in hers.

“I…” I begin, unsure what to say, but I know I’m only worrying her by holding it in. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I put you in a position where you are in some kind of danger for even being associated with me. I’m sorry I ruined your chance at happiness in this realm because I was angry at my Father for throwing you out." I look down at our hands, seeing her rings sparkling in the light. "I panicked when I got in…when you weren’t in the bedroom where I expected you to be. I’m ashamed to admit that I thought you betrayed me and set me up to get caught. I don't blame you; you are a fool for staying with me, especially after what I did.”

She laughs, her lips pulling up into a smirk. "I could never betray you. I want to help you conquer this world, or at the very least, amass an army to accompany us to Asgard and lay waste to all who oppose us on our way to Odin. He may be King, but he is not a righteous one. He needs to be taught a lesson, and you best bet I will be right by your side the whole time."

I will be the first to admit that I was not expecting that response. “Odin has been cruel to you for as long as I’ve known you, Loki. He places Thor on a pedestal while, in the same breath, condemning you for your actions and feelings. Odin was hospitable and even kind to me when I was engaged to Thor, but the second Thor and I went for an audience with him to announce the end of our engagement, his opinion of me turned cold. He only cares about people if it benefits him, nothing more.” She spoke, an anger I have never seen from her burns in her eyes and exists just below the surface, slowly rising every day until it hits a boiling point. I fear for anyone who stands in her way when that day comes.

The way she was talking raised a red flag in my head - I know she disliked my father, but the way she was talking now….something isn’t right, and I need to break her from this train of thought and fast before she loses herself to the madness I did.

Slipping my hand free from hers, I replace it on her cheek, rubbing my thumb against her cheekbone before finally pulling her in for a kiss. Without breaking the kiss, I lace my free hand with hers before laying her down on her back, repositioning myself between her legs. She finally broke the kiss, panting slightly, saliva glistening on her bottom lip. She locks eyes with me; the anger I noticed in them before has receded, and the softness I am used to has returned. A small sigh of relief escapes my lips before capturing her lips again, robbing the air from her lungs and silencing any sounds she may have tried to make.

Her hands wrap around my neck, fingers entangling with my hair. This time it was my turn to break the kiss. “I love you, my Queen. You know that, don’t you?” She nods with a soft smile. Looking down into those gentle eyes, I had to make this right. “Good, that’s why I am not letting you follow me. I am not putting my only love in harm’s way. I would hate myself for eternity if something happened to you because I allowed you to join me. I will make this right.”

She kisses my cheek gently before speaking, “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do, my dear Loki. However, if you feel like you want to make this right, I believe we need to have a discussion with your brother.”

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki of asgard #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki fanfction #loki angst

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smolvenger · 1 year

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Miss Narracott and The Captain, Part Two (Captain James Nicholls x fem! Reader Miniseries)

Summary: It is 1912. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Link to Part One

Fandom: War Horse

Chapter Word Count: 6K

Chapter Warnings: Some angst and some fluff. Light Slow Burn. Mrs. Narracott being badass. I turn Lyons from Neutral Jerk to Mustache twirling villain. Because it's my fic and I can do what I want. References to lines and scenes from the movie. Nicholls is an angel. Some references to violence.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Comments, Reblogs, DMs, and Asks about my work are always appreciated! Thank you!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp

Spring, 1912

This whole past week you did not see Captain Nicholls back at the shop. He likely had business. You wished to enquire what soldiers were doing here…but it was peacetime. And that was being quite nosy.

A farm never really had a weekend. But Saturday was the only day you could sleep in just a little. Dad insisted that for you.

“Come on, Y/N! I need help with the laundry!” mum called out from the yard.

“Coming in a bit!” you called back from the chair.

You had been repairing clothes that had tears. So far, it looked like Dad’s working pants were decent. Setting down your needle and thread in the basket by your feet, you walked out. As you entered the laundry area, you heard Joey mimicking an owl’s hoot. Both of you jumped and looked around.

“Oh, for goodness' sake!” Mum yelped as she checked around her.

Albert had trained Joey to trot up to him at the sound of it and the horse would bolt from wherever he was. Heaven help whoever was walking about at the same time Joey pranced in the yards! Everyone had to jump out of the way as Joey would hurry to Albert’s call.

But no, you did not worry about getting run over by a horse this time. Both Albert and Joey were standing in the field. They were in the circled off ground before the stable.

Mum lifted a white shirt from the basket of washed clothes. She put it on the line. You found another and did the same.

“Y/N, I want to have a little chat with you…it’s easier to chat when you’re doing laundry, …” Mum announced.

Nervousness soured your bowels. She glanced out at your brother. He went to the stable and retrieved the plow. Then she turned to you.

“You do know I love both of you,” she said.

“Of course, we do!”

“Your father and I tried our best to teach you some good lessons. And there’s one lesson I see Albert applying all the time, but I’ve yet to see it from you…”

You tilted your head as you found a wet apron that needed to dry.

“What do you mean?” you asked as you pinned it up.

Mum went over and cupped your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Y/N, you cannot keep sacrificin’ yourself for others. Getting a job for all of us is very noble, and yes it has helped…but you cannot keep silencin’ yourself or what you think…I don’t think you really wanted to give all your wages to us…”

“I don’t mind the work, mama, I don’t! And that’s why I got it- to support everyone!” you replied.

She glanced at a dry bedsheet that was pinned up.

“Of course, you don’t. But, let me tell you something…”

She gestured for you to get to the other end. Freeing it from pins, both of you walked forward to fold it up.

“If there’s one thing, I teach you and Albert, it’s this! Everyone all your life will try to tell you what you should think, what you should do!” she guided.

“Why aren’t you telling both of us, then?” you questioned.

“As I said- I see Albert doing it and you not! I know why- I know you’re a woman in this world! I know what they teach us. I’ve been through it when I was your age too, don’t think I did not!” she explained.

She folded the bedsheet sideways and up, placing it in an empty basket.

“But what if it’s a situation where it's not polite to?” you asked.

“I love that you’re a polite girl, Y/N. No shame in good manners or treatin’ others good. There are plenty of times for politeness. Then there are the other times… if someone’s threatenin' or hurtin' you-politeness ain’t always gonna work! You got to fight back!” she said.

“Fight back…” you repeated as you hung up one of your blouses to dry.

“You cannot let others tell you what should or shouldn’t make you happy. And you shouldn’t sacrifice your own self for others all the time. Soon there won’t be anything of you left to sacrifice! You must stand up for yourself, Y/N! Speak your own mind! And tell others what it is you want, especially if they don’t agree with you!”

She got down another dry shirt and pinned it up.

“They tell us to do this or that. I’m sure even the King of England has to do what he’s told sometimes! But as a woman, they’ll try and pressure you to do what pleases them and not yourself! All the time! Y/N…you got to insist on what you want, what you think!”

Albert put the reins on Joey and led him out to the bottom field, vanishing from vision.

“They always tell us women to cut ourselves into bits to make others happy. And I’m telling you, Y/N- don’t! Don’t let them!” mum ordered.

The chickens clucked in the next yard over. The goose crawled under the fence and explored the horse-free circle of grass. You took down a dry sock to fold it.

“Their opinion, what if it…”

“You don’t have an opinion too? Why should anyone else’s matter but theirs? Unless you realize yours is downright stupid!” mum cried.

You chuckled.

“I guess you’re right…”

She put an arm on your shoulder.

“Whatever you think will make you happy…we’ll support you. Albie, Dad, and I…” she promised.

You pressed the sock into your chest. Letting out a deep sigh, you confided to her.

“I haven’t figured out what, I guess…haven’t found my place. I wondered if I could work at the shop for the rest of my life. I...I confess I even wondered about marrying rich! It would help everyone. But that won’t happen, not in Devon. I think I might spend my spinster days here…”

“You don’t have to marry if you don’t want to. I’d rather see you a happy spinster than a miserable wife, Y/N!”

The goose wandered in to nibble at your mother’s petticoat. Mum shooed him away.

“I think I’d like to fall in love. Fall in genuine, real love, have it work out, and marry someday…” you confessed.

“You always were the romantic, girl! If you do marry, it better be for love. I’d want a good man who’ll love you over a rich man any day!” mum responded.

“But I…I don’t know if I want to leave…not yet…” you continued.

The goose went over to the basket and sniffed at it with his orange beak. She opened her arms and let you hug her.

“Then stay here, my dear girl, and figure it out…but don’t let some people order you about just ‘cause you’re a woman! Ain’t nothin’ that makes foolish men quiver like seeing a woman happy on her own terms!”

You smiled as you looked up at her. She pressed a kiss to your forehead before you continued your laundry. You noticed the goose walking under the fence. He began waddling about the yard. He found dad going about his chores and nipped at the ends of his pants. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · That Sunday, you did see Captain Nicholls at church. Many of the new soldiers had come in, filling up the pews with young men. He was not in uniform but in his three-piece suit and tie. And beside him was another gentleman with a mustache. You wished to speak to him, but your family scuttled in when the service began. As everyone gathered hymnals and sang, you eyed him. He let out a smile and a nod of acknowledgment. You did so back. Once the service ended with the final amen, the crowd broke. As you went up to chat with your friends, you noticed Nicholls went up to you between the pews.

“Oh! Y/N…there you are!” he greeted.

“You remember my name?” you asked.

“Oh, of course!” Nicholls said.

“Is this your first church service here? Do you like it?” you asked.

“Yes, indeed! It’s excellent! The choir sounded lovely- never heard one like it! I’ve shaken two dozen hands already. Complete with tea invitations. I’m sure my colleagues can say the same,” he said.

Yes, dozens of families and couples were welcoming the new soldiers in town. The young men were nodding next to the bright eyes and wide smiles of old people who were thrilled at newcomers.

“Nothing like a first church visit to make you feel famous!” you commented.

“Though I confess I would like it more if they had a picnic. I’m quite hungry,” Nicholls said.

“Oh, we have our share of picnics!” you assured him.

“Mrs. Collins promised me a welcome basket next week with her own famous bread, even!” he said, pointing her out.

The very old lady, next to her equally old husband, was shaking the hand of the mustachioed soldier.

“We could spare a few of the crops and eggs. It’s not much of a welcoming basket, but it’s something,” you offered.

“Crops? Are you from a farming family?” he asked.

Mouth frowning a little, you nodded.

“I’m a farmer’s daughter,” you confirmed.

You knew Nicholls was several stations above you. He had a genteel occupation versus the lowly farming Narracotts. Some of the upper-class people you met in the past were polite, but arrogant in their knowledge of who held the upper hand.

Nicholls was neither. His face remained soft and smiling. If he had any bad opinions about you, it was hidden.

“I think any welcoming basket is better than none! Especially with some grown, natural produce fresh from the ground! I would enjoy it…and the horse. If I recall correctly, there are horses with your family?”

“On our-our farm? The horse-oh-we call him Joey! I barely mentioned him!” you remembered.

“You said your brother had a horse, Miss Narracott! I am dearly fond of the creatures myself if you haven’t guessed from the sketchbook,” he added.

“I should hate to be repetitive, but perhaps you should come over for tea and see Joey- a beautiful, beautiful horse! He’s gentle for the most part unless he hears a commotion, or the mood fancies him!”

“Then I shall be glad to, Miss,” he replied.

He then said his goodbyes and left. But where on earth was your family? It was far too crowded today. You already made your rounds to greet your friends who went here. You began to head outside the doors.

Though as you left for the entrance, who did you run into, but the Landlord. His red, walrus mustache looked combed today. Overdressed in his black and white plaid coat and waistcoat, not a surprising fashion choice for him. He held his bowler hat in one hand. You saw attached to his waistcoat an ornate, golden pocket watch dangling. He picked it up and examined the time and then turned his head to you. Steps skidding out of bumping into where he stood.

“Oh- I’m sorry, Mr. Lyons!” you excused.

Feet shuffling backward, you bowed your head. He turned to see you.

“None taken! Only glad the service ended on time for once! But you did nothing at all wrong,” he said. He spoke with warmth. Not like when he discussed matters of rent with your father.

“Mr. Lyons how are you today?” you asked.

“I am well. And may I say, you do look radiant today, Miss Narracott. Is that a new dress you have on today?” he asked.

Something about the way he was smiling at you felt wrong. It was too wide. Too friendly. Too...nice. You glanced down at your dress. Attempting some form of modesty though you were entirely covered with hat, dress, and gloves.

“Just a hand-me-down from mum’s family,” you responded.

“Lovely on you all the same.”

It struck you that though he did have a wife, she died long ago. And the mourning period was long since over, which meant…

Slight panic gripped your turning stomach. Dear Sweet Jesus- the man was actually flirting with you! You held your gloved hands. But, considering that he had money and a higher station…was he using his position to do what he wanted? How crude! What would your family think?

For now, you only smiled, gripping your hands tighter.

“Mr. Lyons, I thank you for your generous compliment. And I hope your son is well too. Though I am afraid I must leave- there are still chores to finish back home,” you excused.

“Ah, so Sunday is no day of rest?”

“No, it is not,” you confirmed.

You wished you could have added “thanks to your prices!” at the end of that. But you bit your tongue instead.

You dipped your head and left. Despite the familiar faces you passed, your mind spiraled elsewhere. Questioning if this was reality or some odd dream you had. You caught mum gossiping with some friends. Dad and Albert were behind her. Dad turned to you.

“Hey- there you were! Was bout wonderin’ if you vanished, Y/N! Ah- let’s head home, girl,” he greeted.

As the four of you began walking, you kept your head down. Replaying the moment with Mr. Lyons a dozen times.

“You got a troubled look about you. What is it?” Albert asked in your ear. He slowed his pace to meet yours.

“I’ll tell you when we’re alone…” you said. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · “Flirting!” cried Albert.

After some chores, you two would go for a walk outside. Especially on a sunny day like today. It was the hour you and Albert could discuss anything. Especially without snooping, overhearing parents.

It was a day that had gentle sunlight as it glided across the sky. The breeze was cool, but slight. The green grass swept through eternity like a green ocean. Tall blue mountains rose from the ground a distance away, kissing the blue sky above you. In the distance from the hill, the town looked so small. One could crush the church bell tower with their thumb and forefinger. You could even see the blue line of the river stretch out from your view. The forest skittered away, keeping the town and hills snug like it was a wall. They went on forever until they vanished to the horizon. Across the green fields, hundreds of white sheep grazed about for their Sunday lunch of fresh spring grass. Ignoring the whistles of their shepherds to feast and bleat about each other. The church bells pealed the hour from far away, but it echoed up here.

This time your company had a third party. Albert held Joey by the reigns as he walked. But the horse’s ears did perk towards you as if this interested him as well.

“I could have sworn it, yes…” you answered.

“Well, what do you think of him?” Albert asked.

“Mr. Lyons is…prosperous. He…you see how he runs things. It’s not fair dad doesn’t pay his rent. It’s not fair he wants to take our Joey too. But it’s what Lyons has to live on. That’s how his occupation works," you replied. It could be worse.

Joey brushed his lips as if in dismissal of his potential owner.

“But, Y/N, do you like him?” Albert asked.

You paused.

“Not really.”

You looked down at the town below. Birds sang their carefree songs over your head. You noted a few blue wildflowers.

“Lyons has a son, doesn’t he?” you asked.

“Yes- David’s his name!” Albert responded.

You bent down and began picking a few. You put them in your apron pocket and then went up and looked at Albert.

“Every meeting that boy stands there. Doesn’t even do anything! He just sneers at everyone all the time!” you commented.

“Andrew calls him air-nose! Cause his nose is always in the air, the big snob!” Albert teased.

He mimicked the gesture with a perfect sneer. You smiled. But then your original idea caught you. You put a hand in your pocket to touch the flowers as your smile faded with your words.

“How old’s David?”

“Fifteen-Same as me,” Albert replied.

So that meant Lyons was old enough to be your father. You let out a sigh.

“Maybe it was just flirting and he'll move on and forget it. Maybe it’s my imagination…” you dismissed.

Joey flicked his tail behind him. Albert kept one hand to pat his long snout.

“If it ain’t, don’t worry, Y/N. If he or any old goat ever tries something funny with you, tell me. I don’t care if he owns the place or not. I’ll box his ear off!”

“Thank you!” you wished.

You stopped to pet Joey, gently touching his long, copper neck. Grateful the horse was now used to you and softened at your touch.

“And please train Joey to kick him. Hard,” you added.

“You bet!” Albert laughed.

Your brother stopped petting his horse to give you a half-hug. Then you both continued walking your path. Your skirt grazed past some long grass and floated in the breeze with it. Noticing another bunch of pretty wildflowers, you both paused to gather some up and put them in your apron pocket.

“So, Y/N I finally got a name for Goose- Harold! What do you think? Fits him, doesn’t it!” Albert announced.

“He definitely looks like a Harold to me!” you agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Summer, 1912.

It was a hot July day. Still hot as your shift ended and you left. Grateful for the breeze as you left town and walked up the hill to home. Much to your surprise, you saw two horses before the stone fence you did not recognize. One was a speckled one that chewed on dandelions. The other was an intimidating black stallion that shook its mane and kicked the grass.

As you opened the gate, Albert came running up.

“Y/N! Y/N! We have guests! Guests for tea!” he cried.

“Who?”

“These fellows- soldiers! They were watchin' the lands on duty! Then they found our farm and stopped by! One says he knows you!”

“What!?” you cried.

You immediately walked inside. There was your mother just putting the kettle on.

But there he was, Captain Nicholls, still in uniform. Sitting right at your table! And next to him was the gentleman with a mustache. As you walked closer, you saw the mustachioed man take off his hat. He was only barely shorter than Captain Nicholls. You took note more of his appearance- he had dark hair, as opposed to Nicholl’s auburn hair. But both had high cheekbones.

“Oh- more company!” replied the mustachioed man.

But Nicholls himself stood up, as did his companion.

“Miss Narracott! We’re glad you’re here in time!” Nicholls greeted.

“We’re glad to have you- both of you!” you replied.

Your head turned to the gentleman.

“And may I have an introduction, please?” the gentleman asked.

He smiled and then reached for a handshake.

“Stewart. Major Jaimie Stewart,” he introduced himself.

“Miss Y/N Narracott, pleased to meet you.”

The kettle boiled, the leaves brewed, and tea was served. Father even came in to talk. Everyone sipped as everyone began to question the two soldiers. They didn’t brag about their triumphs in battle. They spoke of their daily lives.

“Fell off him! Then the horse only galloped away! I fell right on my bum in front of our general- there!” Steward finished.

Even Dad laughed. He got out a pipe and lit it.

“So, tell us, where do you fellows both come from? Your families?” he asked.

“Parents both fell ill and died when I was a child,” Stewart explained.

You set down your white and blue porcelain cup.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you commented.

“I was raised by my aunt and uncle in London. I had a small family. But that’s not the case for Jim, here!” Stewart said.

He patted Nicholl’s back. He smiled, his eyes bright as he explained.

“I was born in Somerset. My mother was once a pianist and would still give lessons in the town and play at church. Father is a lawyer, but he had a soft spot for books and plays. They met at a little theatre club- she would play piano, and he would act. I’m the oldest of five brothers and sisters.”

“Five!” you cried. It was a lot to have just one, headstrong brother!

“You get quite used to it! We still write to each other all the time!” he replied with a small laugh.

You then smiled.

“I bet it was quite busy!” Mum said. She went to the kitchen and pulled out biscuits on a plate.

“Yes, indeed it was!” He replied.

Nicholls then accepted a biscuit and put it on his saucer. It was the plainer kind. The cheaper kind. He bit into it but showed no grimace. Stewart helped himself to two.

“Sorry it’s not much, we weren’t expecting company…” mum apologized.

“Oh, not at all! These are very good!” said Nicholls.

“You do make an excellent tea as well, Mrs. Narracott,” Major Stewart complimented.

She beamed at them as she finished her drink. Then mum began to return everyone’s cups to the kitchen.

“Now that we’ve had tea, may I see the horse, please?” Nicholls asked.

The soldiers, your brother, and you all walked out to the field. Albert opened the stable door and out trotted the horse.

“Joeys got a brushin’ today! Shiny as a smile on a weddin’, he is!” Albert bragged.

“Leave him to Jim, here. He’s the expert!” Stewart said.

“Yes, I’d love to look at him!” Nicholls added.

Out to the small field, guarded by the stone fence. There Joey stood, eating grass and brushing his tail.

“Ah-here he is!” Albert pointed out.

He put his hands to his mouth and let out the owl call.

“Gentlemen-watch out!” you warned the soldiers. You put out an arm to keep them back.

Joey’s ears picked up. Thankfully he didn’t break into an overexcited gallop. Only a cheerful prance. Nicholls walked forward to the horse. He offered out a hand. You wondered if Joey’s head would buck or make a sudden reaction. He did none. He allowed Nicholls to pet his muzzle. He smiled as he studied the horse- his eyes and his shape.

“He’s an excellent fellow. Very fine!” Nicholls praised.

“Nowhere near Topthorn,” muttered Stewart.

He looked down at the horses’ feet and then the teeth. How touching to see such an excitable being would be calm in the presence of this man. Allowing for gentle pats without resistance.

“Does he ride?” Nicholls asked.

“Not yet- almost there. Got to teach him to plow, is all!” Albert explained.

Not is all. He had to. All bets were on this animal. If he failed, there would be no more of the home you knew for so long. You and your family would have to beg relatives to squeeze you in. Or beg on the streets…

“He’s going to make a fine plow horse we…we hope…” you finished.

The two men turned to you.

“Hope?” repeated Stewart.

You nodded. Tears welled in your eyelids.

“The Landlord says he’ll take the farm and horse too if Joey’s unable to plow the crops for our rent…excuse me…” you said, feeling the sadness overwhelm you.

You turned around, taking three steps away. You began wiping tears with your hand and sleeve. Then you looked up and saw Nicholls offering a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Here, Miss Narracott,” he said.

You accepted it and began to wipe it off. You turned back around. Albert let go of the reins to let Joey trot around.

“My sister was always the worrier-but she’ll be grinnin' and laughin' in no time! Why? Because Joey is perfectly able to! He’s almost there!” Albert declared.

Stewart folded his arms and looked up and down the horse.

“He definitely has the strength to. how is he doing?” he asked.

“Just won’t move, sir- just trots around the bottom field. Or stands. He doesn’t like the plow on ‘im, sir. But I noticed somethin’- he likes it when I imitate things! He ate oats after I’d pretend to eat ‘em!” Albert explained.

Both Nicholls and Stewart returned to the horse. Joey stopped to snack on some grass.

“If he won’t move, try a bit of the horsewhip. Just a light touch. It will keep him moving,” Nicholls advised Albert.

Stewart looked around.

“Where does he have to plow?” he asked.

“The bottom field,” you replied, pointing that way.

The four of you walked there. It was a long, large field with dead grass and filled with rocks. How pitiful and impossible it seemed to you. Stewart leaned down to the ground, inspecting the dirt.

“Don’t you think if there’s water, it’ll be better? Make mud, make the blade move!” Stewart suggested.

“Well-did you hear that, Albie! Those are good ideas!” you said.

Albert nodded.

“Will keep them in, sir!” he vowed.

“Well, we’ve overstayed our time! Should we start going back, Jim?” Stewart asked.

“Of course, we should!” Nicholls replied.

Stewart went back inside with Albert to say his goodbyes. But still outside, gazing at the rocky field, Nicholls turned to you.

“Don’t fret about it, Miss Narracott,” he said.

You returned his handkerchief, which he placed in his breast pocket.

“I’m so sorry for crying in front of you officers,” you mumbled.

“There is no need for shame, Miss. You’re in a frightening position,” he comforted.

“I’m afraid…we’ll lose our home, our life…” you added on.

“Joey is more than capable of plowing. He has the ability- Albert just has to train him in the right way. He must figure out what works.”

“I just think sometimes my life’s slipping away from me and I can’t do anything about it,” you confessed.

The chickens passed the front yard, clucking away. The wind whistled in your ears, cooling you from the sun.

“Do you know of any way you can help Albert?” Nicholls asked.

You blinked.

“I could…I could pick up on some of the chores Albie does. I can feed the chickens more and check on Joey’s stable for water and food. To buy him time to train. It isn’t much…” you sighed.

Nicholls smiled at you.

“It will make a difference. That will make you feel better. And in control.”

“Thank you, Captain…for the handkerchief, your words, everything,” you said.

Both of you began to walk back inside. The gentlemen put their caps back on their heads.

“When are Albert and Joey going to continue to try plowing?” Stewart asked.

“Tomorrow morning. Starting at dawn,” you answered.

“Then…by all means, if we can be there to help, we shall!” Nicholls promised. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · You hurried from work back home. You had to see how plowing was going- you had to. But to your great surprise when there was a crowd of people already at your property. And normally you weren’t used to massive company on your lands! Men and women, rich and poor and between, old people and little children, all gathered to see the field. They leaned against the fence that protected the bottom field. They were watching the attempted plowing like a circus!

Albert was right there with Joey. He put on a mock plow like the one around his horse. Albert’s shirt was drenched with sweat. If they began at dawn, they must have been at it for hours by now. Joey was not motivated to run. The horse stopped. The crowd all began to gossip, stare, jeer, and cheer. Some were even taking bets among them, swapping prices for if the field got plowed or not.

“Come on…come on- the whip!” you urged.

Albert used a whip and that made Joey move. He trotted forward. The blade moved across the field. But it only dug a few inches. Not deep.

Then Joey stopped.

In the back, you saw dad and Lyons sitting on a rock, watching. Lyons turned to your father.

“I’ll give you a day to gather everything even, make the arrangements…” the landlord reasoned.

You scowled, but only gripped the fence tighter than say anything. Then you ran forward to the shed and retrieved a water can, still heavy with water.

Walking out to the field, you watered the ground before the blade. Then you turned to Albert and Joey.

“Here…it should help…Albie, cup your hand, you need it!” You offered.

You already smelt the stench of labor from your brother. He cupped his hand and drank. Cupping your own palm, you offered the water to Joey. You noticed the sweat on the horse’s coat too. He lapped his large tongue on your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile at the tickling sensation.

“I can keep pumping from the spout- just holler!” you offered.

You dumped the rest of the water in a path before the plow blade.

Looking around the crowd. You heard that most were cheering the two of them on.

“Go on, Albert! You can do it! Come on- you can do it!” they shouted.

When you looked in the group, sure enough, you saw Stewart. Nicholls was right beside him. Still in uniform from being on duty. Nicholls then turned to you.

“Miss! How are you- how was work?” he asked.

“Very boring compared to this! But look!” You pointed.

The blade sunk better into the ground you managed to water. It was a little, but better than nothing. You heard a couple of claps and whistles.

“Your ideas- they’re working!” you thanked Stewart.

As Albert brought on the whip. He cracked it a little harder. It made Joey trot forward for a minute. But he was still struggling- it was difficult, rocky land. You noticed this time the horse was struggling- he was using his strength to the weight of the plow. Perhaps it was too heavy for him in the first place!

“Oh, dear god, I cannot stand it!” you cried.

Your house, your future, everything was on this! Nicholls then looked at you.

“Then you know what to do- keep watering the ground, Miss Narracott!” he reasoned.

“But…”

“Consider this an order from a captain,” he added.

You nodded.

“Then yes, Captain Nicholls, I will…”

You then ran to the pump in the front yard. You put the can under the spout and began to pump out water. Your movements were quick and desperate. Your family’s life depended on it. Nearby was a bucket empty of chicken feed. You added it below and pumped water into it for good measure. You were grunting from the effort. You were sweating and the bottom of your work skirt was dirty- but did that matter at that moment? Dirt could wash off later.

“It’s heavy- here- would you like help?” Nicholls offered, walking up.

“Yes…I would- carry it out to the field and back, that’s all!” you pleaded.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Narracott!"

He followed you out and both of you watered the ground near the blade of the plow. As you backed off, sure enough, Joey moved under Albert’s whip and the blade dug. Some dark clouds gathered above you. Many stopped squinting from the shade.

Then once it got to dryer ground, it was harder to go through. Joey struggled to move the plow, neighing with the effort. The crowd was beginning to disperse. There was a smirk on Lyons's face. How you wished you could strike him and wipe it off! You grabbed your skirts and frowned.

But as a few people walked away- some stayed. There was Si Easton and his son, Andrew- your closest neighbor and Albert’s oldest friend. A few optimistic locals. Lyons, David, their servant, and the motorcar. Stewart and Nicholls remained, their faces both white. Your feet screamed for you to sit after work, but you were frozen in place. Dad slumped as he sat on his rock. Mum ran out, her knitting still gripped in her hand. It felt as if your fate was sealed when…

There was a boom of thunder. You looked up. The dark clouds covered the sky. There was a first putter of drops. Lyons and his son fled to their motorcar for shelter. You looked at the two soldiers.

“I’ll fetch some umbrellas- we have two!” you suggested.

You ran and got them out, already your legs were tired from all the dashing about. You handed the umbrellas to them.

“Here, stand with us- where it’s dry,” Nicholls offered.

“Thank you,” you replied.

He held the umbrella and opened it. You were grateful for the shelter. Rain pelted from above against the umbrellas. You stood next to Nicholls as Stewart began to cup his hands to cheer.

It then hit you how close you both were to Nicholls. Too close for just a brushing of clothes. He could touch you with his bare hands. You felt warm and shaky and nervous. Your stomach burst into a hundred butterflies dallying about in your guts. You glanced at him as he looked at the field. How handsome his profile was- a triangular nose, thick lashes, pink lips. You could smell the sun from his uniform. Then you forced your eyes forward. You remained standing.

Stewart then shouted.

“COME ON, ALBERT! JOEY! NOW! Now while it’s wet! Look!”

Albert looked around. The ground was moistened by the rain. And movable.

With a determined shout, Albert gave the whip another crack. Joey broke into a gallop. You gasped-the blade cut through the ground like a knife cutting chocolate cake.

It was getting plowed properly. Joey kept running. Some shouted at him to avoid the bigger rocks. But they shouted in vain. The blade cut clean through the biggest rocks on the field!

The leaving crowd then returned. They whistled and broke into applause that rivaled the thunder. Men tossed their caps into the air and caught them. Joey kept running, Albert behind, cheering along. Dad was smiling- the biggest smile you had seen in ages. No one seemed to care about the rainstorm drenching them. Lyons pursed his lips beneath his red mustache. His servant held his umbrella once he left his motorcar, jaw hung low. Mum clutched her knitting to her heart and grinned.

You broke from the umbrella and ran to give her a hug. She hugged you back.

‘He…he did it…the bottom fields going to have crops! It’s getting plowed!” you cried.

“Oh, you helped them- that’s my girl and my boy- that’s both of you!”

“I’m so relieved, mum!”

“So am I!”

You ran to the rock, taking dad’s hands.

“It’s plowed! It’s plowed!” you cheered.

“It’s plowed! And I’ll need help seedin’ it! Might as well start after the storm!” he said, blinking as rain pelted him.

With a laugh, you hugged your father and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll help you dad- be glad to!”

Glancing back, you saw the soldiers smiling. They walked forward, offering shelter from the umbrellas.

“As I said- he’s a fine, strong horse,” Nicholls said.

“You were right Captain, thank you.” You replied.

“Then we’ll see you about. Give Albert our congrats,” Stewart said.

They returned the umbrellas, which you held with both hands. Nicholls smiled at you as he tipped his cap and left with the Major. Your mother returned to the fence to watch, clutching her knitting in one hand. She did not care for the wet strands of hair blowing in her face.

Lyons, his servant holding his umbrellas at his heels, approached her.

“I’d not let a child of mine slip in the mud alongside a plow blade. He could lose a foot!”

Mum turned to him. With the fury of an ancient goddess, she aimed the sharp knitting needles at Lyons. Both Lyons and the servant backed off. You couldn’t help but keep smiling.

“You’ll likelier lose an eye, Mr. Lyons, if you carry on prating at me how to manage my son! Or my family Or my plow or my horse or my field or my farm!”

She ran back to the gate. You opened one umbrella for both of you. But she kept, running out of the way of the shelter. Cheering on boy and horse.

“Come on Albie! Push on through!” she yelled.

You glanced back at Lyons from beneath the umbrellas.

“You will listen to her. She’ll do it.” You added on.

“I’ll say this- the Narracott men are stubborn fools, but at least the women have some sense in them- both of them,” Lyons replied.

He tipped his hat and smiled, still watching from his window as the motorcar drove off. You tried to keep your eyes on the field finally getting plowed at last. Though to how much he was looking at the field or looking at you, you’d rather not think about.

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thes5superblog · 9 months

Text

Welcome To The Blog!

🎉 : Hihi Hello!! Welcome to our super duper epic blog!!!

💙: Uhh- Welcooome..?

💀: . . .

🍏: I guess- uh- Enjoy your stay.

🍛: Greetings people of the internet! We are the S5, and we formally welcome you to this blog. It is a place for you to ask us any question you have, and/or simply come and chat. Below, you can find information on our boundaries, and our preferred pronouns!

Boundaries

No NSFW questions, jokes, etc.

No Proshippers aloud here!!

As all 5 are of us are System Fictives, we may not have the same memories as we do in "Canon".

This blog is Agere/Petre safe, as actually a few of the S5 members are Littles!

No overly violent

No mentions of D**gs, sm*k*ng/v*p*ng, or "yanderes"

Prefered Pronouns

Aloha - (She/He/They/It/Sparkle/Confetti) Mx.

Army - (He/They/Curry/Cook/Pastry) Mr.

Rider - (He/It/Xe/Xey/Gold/Dark) Mx.

Mask - (He/They/It/Xey/Tech/Zap/Bolt) Mx.

Skull - (He/It/Purple) Mr.

Please Enjoy Your Stay!

#splatoon blog #the s5 super blog #army splatoon #rider splatoon #mask splatoon #aloha splatoon #skull splatoon #s5 splatoon #s4 splatoon #coroika #agere sfw #sfw agere blog #splatoon agere #intro post

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ch33z-wiz · 1 year

Text

I headcannon Lloyd to be an OSDD1B system. My only evidence is ✨️trauma ✨️ and I'm part of a system and want characters to relate to lol

Any who here are some incorrect quotes based on that. Also Lloyd has introjects of Harumi and Morro (cause I said so) "F." Will stand for factive/fictive.

There's also a little named Raina

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

F.Harumi: Ew why do you look like that? You're ugly

Harumi: Don't you look exactly like me in the headspace?!

F.Harumi: Yes... but not ugly like you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

F. Harumi: Hey Rumi

Harumi: Yeah....

F. Harumi: I'm an introject of you right?

Harumi: right...

F.Harumi: And I exist because of you... so does that mean you're my...

Harumi: Rumi please no

F.Harumi: My mommy?

Harumi: Holy shit Overlord please crush me with another building

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lloyd: Dad I need to tell you something....

[Ressurected] Garmadon: What that an evil is coming to destroy Ninjago? Cause if so I am NOT-

Lloyd: NO! Not that. I *sigh* I was diagnosed with OSDD1B its like DID, meaning I have alternate identities but don't have memory loss beteeen them, I've known something was up for a while but now I know what it is...it's because of repeated early childhood trauma

Garmadon: Trauma? What trauma could you have

Lloyd: Seriously?!

Garmadon: yes seriously

Lloyd: Let's see, I was abandoned by BOTH of my parents. Lived in a boarding school where I was bullied constantly, and then discovered I was the Green Ninja and would have to fight my father to to the death. Not to mention I was kidnapped almost died in LAVA prior to discovering that? "

Garmadon: Oh PLEASE that's a cake walk compared to what I've seen the past thousand years!"

Harumi (Gatekeeper): *struggling to keep Morro (protector) from fronting and beating his ass

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darreth: So let me get this straight... you're a system?

F.Morro: Yes

Darreth: So...is there an evil alter

F.Morro: No, but we'll all become the evil alter if you don't shut the fuck up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jay: Hey Lloyd where's the Halloween Cand-

Raina (Little): *shoving face with candy*

Jay: You aren't Lloyd...are you?

Raina: *shaking head*

Jay: COLE ITS YOUR TURN TO WATCH THE CHILD, I THINK ITS RAINA!

Cole: *yelling from the other ship* RAINA WANNA PLAY PRIME EMPIRE WITH ME? I HAVE CAKE!

Raina: *Usain Bolts her ass to Cole*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bully: HA! You're telling me the Green Ninja is a system? Oh is the little baby personality gonna cry?

Nya *being held back by Jay*: LET ME AT HIM

Kai *being held back by Cole*: WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! KNOW ONE SAYS THAT ABOUT RAINA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raina: Kai! I wanna ride on your shoulders!

Kai: Sorry kiddo the body is a little too big for that

Raina: *death stare*

Raina: *ontop of a struggling Kai* IM THE QUEEN OF THE MOUNTAIN GIVE ME YOUR CANDY!!!

Nya: *dying laughing*

Cole: EXCUSE ME?! I HAVE SUPER STRENGTH I COULD'VE DONE IT

Raina: I know, I just wanted to mess with Kai

Cole: Oh my God you are the best child ever

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zane: Jay, Kai I require your assistance

Jay/Kai: Yeah?

Zane: I'm trying to assist Lloyd in figuring something out

Jay: What is it?

Lloyd: Someone messaged Harumi and I have no clue who. I don't know if they're new

Kai: I thought you remembered this stuff?

Lloyd: I do remember what happened, but I don't always remember WHO did it.

Kai: *reading text* "Just saying I'm hotter than you." This sounds alot like Rumi

Jay: Yeah, doesn't she like to call Harumi "ugly"

Lloyd: That's what I thought, but she said she didn't type it

Jay: Well then maybe Morro?

Kai: Yeah maybe

Lloyd: Nope not him either, Morro hates Harumi and would NEVER message her

Jay: Hmmm... maybe Raina?

Zane: The seven year old?

Jay: Yeah her, unless it was someone else? What aren't there like 13 of you?

Lloyd: I doubt it, I'll ask her

Lloyd: *sighs* She did it

Kai: Oh my FSM I adore that kid.

#headc

#incorrect ninjago quotes #ninjago #incorrect quotes #ninjago headcanons #lloyd garmadon #jay walker ninjago #kai smith #zane julien

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fictionkinfessions · 2 months

Note

for canon family, i remember my squad from before i deserted. there were five of us originally, but six of us in total (both counting me).

blast was our big brother. he was our heavy arms guy, and he was outgoing and loud and funny as hell. he was always protective of the rest of us, and he died on a training mission before the battle of geonosis to save our lives.

lock took over as our leader after blast died, and was eventually made our sergeant. blast’s death hit him hard, since they were twins. he was really stoic and serious most of the time. he had a tattoo on the left side of his face, but i don’t remember exactly what it looked like.

curio got his name ‘cause he collected anything he could get his hands on. shells, cool rocks, nuts and bolts, busted droid parts, trivia, you name it. he was the baby of the bunch, but technically not the youngest, if you went by our numbers.

doubletime was our recon guy. he had a mutation that made him a couple of inches shorter than the rest of us, and he was a fucking spitfire. always taking the piss out of the rest of us. i’m pretty sure he was the one who insisted on calling me cut, since i cut myself shaving a lot when we were younger.

feedback was transferred in after blast died. kinda a mechanic/tech guy. he was quiet and anxious and preferred to be in the rear with the gear, since he’d lost his original squad. he never talked about exactly what happened. but he was a good guy. we were just as protective over him as we were over each other, and he eventually started to warm up to us.

…then we got shipped off to geonosis to kick off the clone war properly, and… well. the rest is history.

-cut lawquane (unsure if i’m a kin or a fictive, sorry)

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #cutlawquanekin #death cw #clonewarskin #starwarskin #mod party cat #gamrep #canon family

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xkaminarix · 2 months

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⚡Hiya, Charge Bolt here! ⚡

I'm going to set some rules so everyone knows what they are getting themselves into. ~ This is a fictive blog. Please be respectful of it. ~ If you are a system and want interact, that is totally rad! If you want to personally talk, send me a direct message. This goes for everyone. ~A real person is behind this account. Please respect them as you respect me. ~ No flirting or s3xual stuff. I will not respond to any of it. I will also not roleplay. ~ Ship wars are NOT allowed on this page. Go take it somewhere else. ~ Ask me anything you like. (nothing personal please.) ~ If I don't respond right away, please be patient. You will be answered. With all this said, let's have some fun and share good vibes!

#bnha #denki kaminari #hanta sero #kaminaridenki #boku no hero academia #charge bolt #ask blog

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 1 year

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**SNEAK PEEK FOR CHAPTER 14!**

Pairing: Prince Loki x Concubine!Reader Rating: 18+ ONLY (Minors DNI) MASTERLIST HERE **Please reblog if you like it!**

Content Warning: Threat and mentions of assault, eventual smut, indentured servitude and sex slavery, mean people being mean, violence, executions, more warnings likely to come

You couldn’t stand being in the same room nearly every second with that radioactive elf woman.

She was perfect.

Every flick of her finger was choreographed, and every time her shoulders rose and dropped with breath, it was like a delicate, rolling wave crashing onto shore. She was, well, a goddess (albeit one who blackmailed middle-aged priestesses).

Once in a very great while, when Ase struck up a simple conversation with you, you found yourself almost complacent. Ase was, of course, witty and intelligent (as only befitted the wife of a God), so she was certainly good for the occasional cordial discussion of a piece of music, or a book. Yet with each word you spoke to her, you felt Loki fade deeper and deeper into the mists of your fogged mind.

After a while, without news or even effort from Stieg, Thor, or Loki, you felt abandoned, and that, combined with the stress, was making you feel ill again.

One morning, you awoke to find Noma standing above you, smiling, but looking concerned nonetheless.

“Y/N?” she asked gently. “Are you in need of a healer?”

“Did I oversleep?” you asked, attempting to sit up, but feeling a dizziness in your head that disabled you almost immediately.

“Oh, don't worry about that, love. The Princess is on an outing with the Prince today,” Noma answered. “We’ve been given the afternoon off! I didn’t want you to miss out on it, but I see your sickness is preventing you from waking.”

“Sickness? Oh…that sickness…”

Nausea, headaches, dizziness, and even a little hunger pang in between the queasiness were all in a package inside your skull and stomach, and you felt a few tons heavier than the palanquin that had brought you here months ago.

How many months has it been? Four? Five?

A single word from your train of thought (along with all of its variants) suddenly glued itself to the forefront, and a shocking bolt of cold lightning went up your back.

Months. Month. Monthly.

NEW CHAPTER WILL BE HERE ON FRIDAY THIS WEEK! :)

@vickie5446 @thedistractedagglomeration @jonquilclegane @lonadane @lokisgoodgirl @just-someone11 @mcufan72 @hypergamer7744 @usagishira @silverfire475 @coleranchdorito @huntress-artemiss @elegantcheesecakecrown @lokixryss @25bohemianmoons @crimson25 @waywardsummoner46 @ladyjames78 @chantsdemarins @sorceresski @ladymischief11 @goblingirlsarah @fictive-sl0th @goldencherriess @marvel-fan24 @trickster-maiden @glitterylokislut @eleniblue @12-pm-510 @simplyholl @crimson25 @psychospore @wolfsmom1 @silverfire475 @coldnique

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki smut #loki odinson #thor #odin sucks

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revenant-coining · 7 months

Note

💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤

Fictividenki (link): a gender connected to, affected by, or otherwise related to being a fictive of denki kaminari from boku no hero academia.

Electrifylexic (link): a gender that is/is related to the word ‘electrify’.

Zaplexic (link): a lexic gender related to the word zap.

⚡gender/⚡emojic: a gender related to the ⚡ (lightening/zap) emoji.

Phosfulgurial (link): a gender that is lit by lightning.

Electrisymbic (link): a symbic gender related to lightning bolts.

Lightnilexic (link): a gender that is/is related to the word ‘lightning’.

Panlightning (link): someone who identifies with all lightning/thunder related genders (within neurodivergency and cultural limits).

#(kami)#💤 game #anon #🪼 ask games

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inhushedwhispershp · 1 year

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F A Q

tw : harry potter, guerre, violences, dictature, contrôle des naissances et des unions, enfermement, emprisonnement, force de l'ordre.

Pourquoi les sorciers anglais sont-ils sur l’île de Skye ?

Suite à la révélation du secret magique, les chasses ont repris et les sorciers ont été décimés. Quelques communautés liées par le sang ou la solidarité se sont installées sur l’île de Skye pour tenter de réparer les vivants et reconstruire une société sorcière.

Pourquoi les sorciers ne peuvent pas sortir de l’île ?

Afin de se protéger des attaques moldues et de leur extinction imminente, les sorciers ont développé un sortilège fermant les frontières de l’île, empêchant ainsi l’entrée, mais aussi la sortie de tout être vivant.

Pourquoi le forum est interdit aux mineurs ?

De nombreuses thématiques sombres sont abordées, et l’équipe administrative ne souhaite pas prendre la responsabilité de confronter cela à des mineurs.

Peut-on jouer un personnage d'Harry Potter ?

Non, le forum est dans un Univers Alternatif (AU) et aucun personnage d’Harry Potter n’est jouable. Cependant, certaines familles sorcières connues persistent, mais nous vous demanderons de vous éloigner du canon existant et de respecter la nouvelle trame proposée.

Un moldu ou un né-moldu pourra-t-il être intégré sur le forum ?

Non, il est impossible de jouer un moldu à cause de la barrière magique. Un né-moldu est possible mais devra obligatoirement être issu des clans du bataillon d’exploration (voir annexe armée).

Peut-on créer une famille ou un clan ?

Non, pour le moment, il est impossible de créer sa propre famille ou son propre clan. Votre personnage doit s’intégrer dans une famille ou un clan déjà existant, qui sont au nombre de 24, et devra en porter le nom. Ce système peut être amené à évoluer lors de futures intrigues.

Quelle est la différence entre une famille et un clan ?

Une famille est un ensemble de personnes liées par un lien de parenté ou d’union dans l’arbre généalogique.

A contrario, un clan est un ensemble de familles associées par une parenté réelle ou fictive, fondée sur l'idée de descendance d'un ancêtre commun, qui, lui-même, peut être réel, imaginaire ou mythologique. Si au sein des clans, les membres n’ont pas tous des liens généalogiques, ils sont liés par un idéal et des valeurs communes. Les membres d’un clan portent obligatoirement le nom de famille du clan.

En cas de mariage, quel nom de famille/clan est hérité ?

Dans la société de Skye actuelle, l’homme donne obligatoirement son nom de famille ou de clan à son épouse.

Seules les femmes McGonagall ont obtenu le privilège de transmettre leur nom de clan à leur époux. Ainsi, un homme qui marie une McGonagall verra son nom de famille ou de clan changer en McGonagall. Si pour certains, ce privilège est vu comme un affront, il est aussi gage de force et d’honneur pour ce clan matriarcal fier aux valeurs louables.

N’y a-t-il vraiment aucun moyen de ne pas porter le nom d’une famille ou d’un clan ?

Les orphelins, bâtards nés hors mariage et rejetons indésirables sont recensés d’une autre manière par les sages Quirrell de la Citadelle. Ainsi, pour maintenir des registres familiaux impeccables et simplifiés, il a été décidé de recenser ces marginaux sous quatre noms de clan génériques : un pour chaque district.

Si vous ne faites pas partie d’une famille ou d’un clan existant, vous porterez alors l’un de ces quatre noms :

Factory District : Bolt (vis)

Memory District : Quill (plume à écrire)

Abondance District : Wheat (blé)

Military District : Wire (fil de fer)

Quelles sont les familles et clans jouables ?

Il y a 24 familles et clans légitimés par le gouvernement, et donc jouables, auquel votre personnage devra être intégré obligatoirement.

Familles : Black, Crabbe, Goyle, Lestrange, Lockhart, Lovegood, Quirrell, Rosier, Skeeter et Umbridge.

Clans : Arbour, Graves, Kahoni, Linares, McGonagall, Parkinson, Patil, Porskoff, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Song, Sorensen, Vajarodaya et Zabini.

À cela s’ajoutent les 4 clans génériques, un par district : Bolt, Quill, Wheat et Wire.

Les autres familles connues sont éteintes.

Peut-on jouer un personnage extérieur à l’île ?

Non, c’est impossible car le forum est un huis-clos. Il est impossible d’interpréter un sorcier en dehors de l’île car nous souhaitons garder le mystère sur la situation sorcière dans le reste du monde.

Peut-on jouer une créature magique ?

Il est uniquement possible de jouer des sorciers sur IHW.

Quelles sont les particularités magiques jouables ?

Beaucoup de particularités magiques ont disparu car leurs héritiers n’ont pas survécu ou la pratique est peu à peu tombée dans l’oubli : les vélanes, la magie sans baguette, les fourchelangs, les obscuriaux, les legilimens et les occlumens.

Les particularités jouables sont : le troisième œil, la lycanthropie, la métamorphomagie, les malédictions, les animagi et les cracmols. Quels sont les interdits sur l’île de Skye ?

Le transplanage est interdit, car impossible à contrôler. De nombreux accidents ont été déplorés. On privilégie plutôt les calèches de sombrals et d’hippogriffes, les vols en balai (bien que très réglementés), les déplacements en cheminée (très peu accessible, le réseau est jeune et fragile, et excessivement coûteux) et la marche à pied. Pour le commerce, il est possible d’emprunter le bateau au maximum à 5 kilomètres des côtes.

La magie noire est interdite, pour des raisons évidentes. La légilimencie et l’occlumencie font désormais partie des sciences occultes et sont prohibées.

Sortir de l’île est interdit, au-delà d’être impossible. Le peu d’aventuriers ayant tenté lors des sorties du bataillon n’en sont pas sortis vivants.

Il est interdit de mettre en péril la magie : cela passe par le respect des règles de l’île, et de ses traditions.

Le célibat après 30 ans est prohibé, c’est d’ailleurs pour cela que chaque sorcier est marié après 30 ans, de son plein gré ou par un système de loterie. May the Valentin’s day be ever in your favor!

Quelles sont les conséquences si je ne me marie pas avant ma 31ème année ?

La sentence est simple et irrévocable : c’est la prison à vie.

Est-il possible de jouer un personnage révolutionnaire ?

Beaucoup de révolutionnaires ont été emprisonnés, et ont principalement été bâillonnés. Pour le moment, toute volonté révolutionnaire est éteinte, la colère gronde seulement intérieurement. Cependant, il est tout à fait possible en jeu de construire une révolution, avec les enjeux et risques qui pourraient frapper ces personnages à tout moment.

Comment font les sorciers pour aller à Poudlard, si les frontières sont fermées ?

Poudlard n’existe plus en tant qu’académie ! Lieu de transit et de repos pour les bataillons d’exploration, la magie de l’école persiste, mais n’est plus utilisée de la même façon. Comme on le sait tous, Poudlard sait se défendre seul. À la place, un nouvel institut a ouvert ses portes sur l’île : Eriliara. École pensée par les Vajarodaya pour rendre la société plus efficiente, tous n’y déposent pas les pieds un cursus entier. S’il est nécessaire de passer quelques années au sein des murs pour développer ses capacités et maîtriser ses pouvoirs, certains se savent condamnés à quitter l’école pour commencer leur vie de labeur dès 14 ans.

Qu’en est-il des emplois sur l’île ?

Le travail est le pan principal de la vie des sorciers. Nécessaire à la survie et au développement de la société, les valeurs liées à l’activité d’un sorcier sont inscrites comme une raison de vivre. Si certains n’apprécient pas voir leur vie tournée autant vers le travail, il n’empêche qu’on leur demande de travailler en moyenne six jours sur sept, une dizaine d’heures par jour, avec pour journée de repos le lundi. Si ce rythme est éreintant, il est nécessaire dans une société en reconstruction. Les métiers dits inutiles sont prohibés, chacun doit apporter sa pierre à l’édifice par son action quotidienne. Les métiers d’arts ont disparu s’il n’apporte rien aux historiens, les métiers supports se sont effacés au profit de l'agriculture, etc. Le sport, l’art, et les métiers passions ne peuvent être pratiqués que sur le temps libre des sorciers.

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