#i felt that way during horse riding and i feel that way no matter what i do. constantly judged and evaluated and like

[featherymainffins]

Me showing DSAF to an acquaintance who has only heard of it like: "You will get depression due to this later. Anyway this is my primordial pet freak, he has killed hundreds of people and will kill again and I think he should be locked in a controlled environment forever. Oh no not for his crimes. It's because I want to study him like a bug forever. Perhaps break his bones one by one... Anyway when I draw him drawing is actually fun and doesn't feel like a stressful performance."

#its so funny i just cant be normal. normal people have like #normal characters that they consider characters that bring them joy. i always pull out the most rancid fucker and go #'this is my emotional support piece of shit and when i draw him i rediscover what hobbies are' #(because i actually do not have hobbies in the traditional sense) #(as in activities like drawing or writing are actually not fun for me at all #i do them because im fairly good at them and because it's a habit; like doing your homework. but i hate them. it's a stressful thing #and it brings me more tears than fun. i like to produce products i like being productive but i hate the process and i hate #how i can make a mistake and i feel judged the whole time. i feel like that during playing instruments and during sewing amd #i felt that way during horse riding and i feel that way no matter what i do. constantly judged and evaluated and like #my performance has to be flawless and every tiny mistake justified. like my life is a constant process of justifying my actions in #front of a court and a judge and a jury.) #(but when i draw some specific characters I don't feel that way. i feel like this weird feeling that i think might be joy? i don't feel #stressed out at all and seem to forget that i am being evaluated #i forget that i have to constantly earn my life. j don't stop every few lines to get a breather to calm myself down and assure myself #that i can do this flawlessly. i just...draw and if it's less than perfect i just correct the mistakes. but I don't feel pressured or judged #i find myself smiling and it's weird. because i never feel like smiling when im drawing or writing or anything.)

[total-lost-boys-simp]

Water Might be Thicker Than Blood

The Lost Boys x Fém! Reader

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

Let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

Day turned into night.

(Y/N) and her family spent the rest of their time on the beach and at the boardwalk. Michael was probably looking for music stores or shops that sold parts for his off-roading bike, Sam was probably just following him like a lost puppy. (Y/N) stayed with Lucy thinking it’d be the smarter option. While walking around (Y/N) noticed all of the missing posters stacked over one another on walls and powerlines. Most of the people in the posters were just teenagers, with a few adults. Before she could look at them anymore her attention was taken by a little boy in the middle of the walk way calling out,

“Mom! Mom! I can’t find my Mom!”

Lucy walked ahead of (Y/N) and up to the boy, asking, “What the matter? Are you lost?”

(Y/N) grabbed the boy’s hand and assured him, “Don’t worry little dude, let’s go find your mom.”

As she said those words she met the eyes of four tall strangers heading into a video store. There was an off putting feeling as they all gazed in her direction. Lucy started walking the same way they did into the video store. (Y/N) followed suit with the small child still in hand.

“Excuse me, I wonder if you could help us,” Lucy asked, getting the attention of the store clerk, “This little boy is lost and we were wondering if his mother might be in here?”

“Well, I don’t really know…” The tall man in glasses started.

Just then a woman came running in frantically, “Terry! I was so worried. Don’t run off, Terry,” she bawled as she knelt down hugging the boy.

“There you are,” hummed the clerk as he handed the boy a lollipop.

(Y/N) slightly tuned out for a bit during that whole debacle as she started watching the guys from earlier roam around the shop. There’s just something about them…

“And you, young lady?” The clerk asked as he held a lollipop to (Y/N)’s face.

“Oh yeah, sure… thanks.” she muttered as she took it.

The clerk wasn’t paying her much attention as he looked above her and bellowed, “I told you not to come in here anymore.”

(Y/N) whipped around now seeing the four strangers right behind her. They averted their gaze from the clerk and down to her. Their most noticeable features were their hair. One with a platinum blonde almost white, the next dawning straight dark brown hair to his shoulders, after him was a dirty blonde who looked like he was in a metal band, finally there was the shorter of the four who had a goldendoodle type of mullet. (Y/N) averted her eyes, turning back around to her mother as the boys left.

“Hey mom, I think I’m going to go for a walk,” (Y/N) said.

“Okay sweetie, just meet me back at the car,” Lucy said as she hugged her daughter.

(Y/N) walked out of the video store seeing the four guys hop on their bikes.

“You coming?” Shouted the dirty blonde rocker.

“Who, me?” (Y/N) questioned, pointing to herself.

“Yeah you!” Shouted the short curly one.

“I don’t even know you guys!” She retorted as she stepped a little closer

“Then get to know us!” The dirty blonde came again.

“...I don’t know anyone in this damned town so why not,” (Y/N) murmured as she walked up to the rocker’s bike, throwing her leg over the seat and gripping his waist.

“Hold on!” He teased as they all kicked up their bike stands.

“For wha-?” (Y/N) didn’t even finish her sentence as they zipped off at what felt like the speed of light.

For quite a few minutes they rode through the boardwalk. (Y/N)’s hair wisped around her face and flew back behind her. The cold air from the ride felt like the refreshment she needed in this unfamiliar place. She tightened her grip on her steel horse cowboy as they rounded corners and leapt off speed bumps. He always laughed in response before shouting and yelling with his friends. Finally the group stopped at a red barred fence. (Y/N) tried to regain her balance as she hopped off the bike, her legs feeling weak after the ride. The tall brunette of the group caught her by the waist before she tripped over her own two feet.

“Careful,” He said before letting her stand on her own.

“Thanks…” (Y/N) trailed, not knowing his name.

The platinum blonde stepped forward pointing out, “Dwayne, Paul, Marko,” pointing to the one who just caught her, then the one who she rode here with, and finally the one with the curly hair she kept looking back at on the ride here.

“Ah right, and you are?” She asked, wanting to know the name of her final captor.

“David,” He said as he tried to light a cigarette.

“Here,” (Y/N) said as she grabbed his hands, cupping them around the rolled paper then flicking open the zippo to burn the stick, “The wind will draw the flame away.”

David inhaled then exhaled before saying, “Thanks.”

“So little lady, what brought you to Santa Carla?” Marko asked, biting his thumb while leaning against his bike.

“Divorce,” (Y/N) answered as she crossed her arms.

“Shit, you’re divorced? You don’t look that old,” Paul said before letting out a cackle.

(Y/N) turned to the blonde in the fishnet top, “Not me, my parents….”

“Alright alright, just messin’,” He threw his hands up, “Why’d they divorce?”

“I…” She started but didn’t finish.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dwayne interjected, noticing her discomfort.

“Thanks, it’s still a new subject for me”

“Anyways, Stars coming,” David said, stomping out his cigarette before getting on his bike, the others following suit.

“Who’s Star?” (Y/N) asked.

“That’s Star,” Paul said, pointing behind (Y/N) towards said ‘Star’

As (Y/N) turned around, she instantly knew who they were talking about. A girl stood out from the crowd; she was thin and enchanting. Her long curly brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, bouncing and wisping in the cool night air. Her purple jeweled maxi skirt sparkled and glimmered against the lights of the boardwalk.

“She’s beautiful…” (Y/N) said in awe.

“Jealous?” Asked Marko before letting out a small laugh and a big grin.

Not even looking away from Star, (Y/N) said, “The opposite actually…”

“Come with us?” Asked David, though it felt like more of a demand than a query.

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t-“ Dwayne started but was quickly cut off by-

“Ahhh lame! C’mon girl!” Paul shouted as he jumped up and down on the seat of his motorcycle.

“Really, I would but I don’t want to worry my mom,” (Y/N) said before turning around.

When she turned to walk away she was met by amber brown eyes and a citrine tan.

“I- I…uh…I have- Hi..” (Y/N) failed to form even a sentence in front of the gorgeous woman before her.

Star was such a fitting name for someone who glows with such a luminous complexion.

Said woman looked her up and down with a despondent expression, “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Okay, look guys I really have to go but maybe I can see you again tomorrow? Same spot?” (Y/N) suggested as she started backing away from the group.

“We better see you here,” David demanded, helping Star onto the bike.

“Or what?” (Y/N) laughed at David’s words.

“Or we’re coming for ya,” Marko hissed as he squeezed the clutches of his bike.

“Tempting, we’ll see what happens,” (Y/N) decreed as she ran away.

As she ran away she could hear the roar of the motorcycles speed off behind her. (Y/N) halted her jog at the main entrance of the boardwalk.

“(Y/N)? What’re you doing with those guys?” Asked Sam as he spotted his sister.

“None of your business boy wonder,” (Y/N) cackled as she pulled her little brother into a headlock.

“You shouldn’t be hanging out with them,” Michael criticized his sister's new acquaintances.

(Y/N) looked over at her older brother, “Oh shut it Mikey, let’s just find mom…”

“Seriously (Y/N) they look like bad news!” Sam shouted, just watching out for his older sister.

Laughing, (Y/N) asked,“Shouldn’t it be me telling you two to stay out of trouble?” finding her brothers’ protective attitudes to be all too funny.

The ride ‘home’ wasn’t anything exciting, two out of three kids were absolutely shlumped and resting their heads on the window. Even in her tired state though (Y/N) should make out a small conversation happening between her mom & Michael. It sounded like a debate on whether or not he’d quit school and start working to help support the family…obviously Lucy was against it. (Y/N) tuned out the rest until they got back to their grandpa’s house. “Wake up guys, we’re here…get some rest in your new rooms,” Lucy said in a kind and quiet voice.

Laying in bed, all (Y/N) could think about was the group of chaotic boys she met tonight. How she didn’t really have time to think about anything going on in her life while she was with them. Everything was just a complete carefree joy ride even if it was just for a short couple of hours. Withe the way things have been (Y/N) wishes everyday of her life could be like that.

The next day wasn’t anything crazy (Y/N) finished unpacking her boxes. Putting up posters on walls, books on shelves, clothes in the closet, and finally she got to the small shoe box full of pictures. Some of them were of her and her friends and a couple with her partner…a total backstabbing jerk. They weren’t willing to do long distance even if they could see each other on school breaks, they said it’d be too draining so they broke up with (Y/N). The next day (Y/N) caught them kissing her best friend.

“Total prick,” (Y/N) said as she picked up the picture box and walked it downstairs. Shouting she said, “Hey grandpa!”

“Yeah kiddo?” Grandpa said as he peeked his head out from his taxidermy room.

“Uh…do you have a fireplace?” (Y/N) asked, still a little weirded out by her grandfather’s hobbies.

“I do but you ain’t usin’ it, too damn hot up here for that,” Grandpa said before shutting his doubled sliding doors.

“Okay then…” She said as she walked back upstairs.

An hour or so passed when (Y/N) got a knock on her door from her little brother. “Hey, I’m going to the boardwalk, wanna come?”

Looking up at her brother (Y/N) asked, “How’re we gonna get there?”

“Drive?” Sam said with a big grin on his face.

“That’s the real reason you want me to go with you, huh?” (Y/N) laughed.

“Well yeah, mom already left for that new job of hers.”

“Then why didn’t you just get a ride with her?”

“And get up at seven in the morning?! No way!” Same shouted.

“Okay, okay fine, jeez…” (Y/N) said as she got out of bed.

The two out of three siblings ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey grandpa we’re taking the Harvester to the boardwalk!” (Y/N) shouted. Grandpa poked his head out of his ‘laboratory’ but before he could say anything (Y/N) blurted, “I swear we’ll put gas in it, okay bye!” and ran out the door with Sam in toe.

“You made any friends down here yet?” (Y/N) asked her little brother as they drove down the streets of Santa Carla

“Not really, just some weirdos at a comic shop,” He said as he looked out the side of the old military truck.

“I’m starting to think this town is nothing but weirdos,” (Y/N) laughed as she stopped the truck in a parking lot.

“What, like the ones you were with last night?” Said taunted his older sister.

“They weren’t weirdos,” (Y/N) scoffed as she parked the old truck.

“Were too! You just wanted to make out with them so bad you didn't notice!” Sam whined as he hopped out of the truck.

“Okay Stripesy, why don’t you go to your little comic store friends,” (Y/N) before parting ways with her brother at the boardwalk.

As she walked away she could hear her little brother shout, “They’re not my friends!”

(Y/N) spent most of the daytime playing games and going on rides, She can confidently say that the mini-golf here was better than the one at Golf n’ Stuff back in Phoenix… mostly because it wasn't outside in the scorching sun. Speaking of the sun, (Y/N) took this chance to sit on the beach and watch the sun lower itself over the horizon. I guess I could get use to this she thought as she held her knees to her chest. Once it was a little darker (Y/N) headed over to the video store figuring she could catch Lucy at the end of her shift.

Coming up on the store, (Y/N) poked her head into the entrance but before she could greet her mom she was met by the sight of her flirting with her new boss… whatever his name was. That suit-wearing-hipster-asshole! (Y/N) knows her mom and dad were in anything but a happy marriage but to see her flirting with someone else so soon? Before she knew it (Y/N) had tears coming down her eyes. In a fit of silent rage she ran away from the store and all the way down the boardwalk to the red gates where she was the night before.

Sometime must’ve past while (Y/N) sat there on the ground crying once she heard the motorcycles roar their way up to the fence. They came screeching to a halt when Paul shouted, “Hey move out- oh it’s the chick from the other night.”

“Oh hey, sorry,” (Y/N) said as she dried her face and stood up.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Asked Marko as he jumped off his bike.

“It’s just family stuff, sort of,” (Y/N) answered as she leaned against the fence.

“I’m going for a walk, do you want to come with? To get your mind off of things?” Asked Star as she stood in front of (Y/N)

With a smile on her face (Y/N) said, “No, I think I’ll stay behind but thanks Star…”

Star gave (Y/N) a look of sympathy before disappearing into the crowd.

“So…” Marko said, realizing neither him nor any of the boys knew the name of the girl standing with them.

“(Y/N),” she responded.

“So (Y/N) what do you want to do?” Marko went back to his question.

“I’m not sure really, I was thinking about other things so much that I didn’t really come up with anything,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“Let’s walk,” Dwayne suggested, his voice had an asserting tone but not as intense as David’s.

Letting out a small laugh (Y/N) said, “Yeah, I could go for a good walk right now.”

Just as the group was about to start walking around David threw (Y/N) his long black coat leaving him with a worn down leather jacket and a black crew shirt.

“You don’t need this?” (Y/N) asked, the answer was pretty obvious.

“You looked cold,” David said, not even looking over at (Y/N) as he tried to light the cigarette between his lips.

“I didn’t feel cold,” (Y/N) responded, lightly taunting the scruffy bleach blonde.

“Just keep it on,” David demanded.

Before any major fun happened Dwayne had introduced (Y/N) to the youngest member of the gang, Laddie. A small and shy little boy, he kind of reminded (Y/N) of Sam when he was that age. The two didn’t talk much but throughout the night he opened up a little going as far as to walk next to (Y/N) when the group was aimlessly moving through the crowds at the boardwalk.

The group walked around for a bit playing some stall games along the boardwalk and visiting the various tourist shops. At various times some of the boys would leave to do whatever, sometimes saying they were “Gonna go grab a bite”. The group settled back at the bikes, talking, laughing, just hanging out. While talking to Marko (Y/N) caught sight of two very familiar figures.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, rolling her eyes

“Huh, what’s up?” Marko asked, à confused look on his face.

“My brother, that’s him over there with Star, no doubt he’s whipped already,” (Y/N) laughed as she leaned against the red fence.

“If that’s your brother then we should go say hello,” David insisted to the group.

Before she knew it all the boys were on their bikes, Dwayne pulling Laddie up onto his. “You should get on,” Marko suggested to (Y/N). Figuring what was about to happen she complied and swung her leg over the back of Marko’s bike before he revved it. With all said & done David smudged out his cigarette and the group rode over to where Michael & Star were.

Once the group got up to the couple it was an entirely different atmosphere. More taunting & menacing, nothing like the playful and carefree night (Y/N) was having just minutes ago. The boys surrounded Michael blocking any sort of way he had to get out on his red off-roader. That’s when he saw her, his own little sister, with these assholes?! What the hell was she thinking? Michael didn’t say anything out of visible intimidation, it’s exactly what they wanted.

“Where you going Star?” David asked, his tone sharp & assertive

Avoiding eye contact with an annoyed look on her face she answered, “For a ride, this is Michael.”

“Let’s go,” Michael said, grabbing her hand to guide her onto his bike.

“Star,” David said, expectantly.

The three shared glances with one another for a good few seconds before Star finally walked over to David and got on his bike. What the hell is this? (Y/N) thought, completely confused by the change in everyone’s attitudes. This was completely conflicting because while (Y/N) was having a great time…it looks like her brother will have the worst.

“You know where Hudson’s Bluff is, overlooking the point?” David asked Michael

With a you’re kidding me look on his face Michael answered, “I can’t beat your bike.”

In a teasing and demeaning tone David said, “You don’t have to beat me Michael, y’just have to try n’ keep up.”

As if there was some unspoken agreement to the situation the boys started their bikes. Marko took one hand off the bars & placed it over (Y/N)‘s interlocked fingers before zipping off. “Make sure you’re holding on real tight!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Oh trust me, I am!” (Y/N) said, burying her face into his patch work jacket to avoid the sand being kicked up.

And off they went.

#alex winter #kiefer sutherland #billy wirth #brooke mccarter #marko #the-lost-boys-x-reader #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #tlb 1987 #star the lost boys #the lost boys movie

[imaginesmai]

Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (7)

Barely alive, it’s been a couple of rought weeks BUT I’M BACK. Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist  

Plot: Ubbe and you take important decisions, about your future and the future of your kingdoms, not knowing that something bigger than you is happening outside the castle’s walls.

When Ecbert told Ragnar about your decision to stay, the king didn’t look surprised at all. He humored you with your father, agreeing about the old age and bad knees. They both exaggerated their physical conditions between laughs, and concurred that they needed to take the hunting trip easy.

From behind your father, you watched with a soft smile the interaction.

You hadn’t noticed until that year how close your father and Ragnar were. Back at Wessex, you didn’t have many friends, and not a relationship as close as them. As you stared at their interaction, you felt your heart growing bigger, feeling that you had taken the right decision.

The moment was cut short when Ubbe and Sigurd appeared. Apparently, Aslaug had had a bad night and wouldn’t be gracing you with her presence. And, since Hvitserk hadn’t shown up for breakfast, he had declined going with them.

The hunting raid was complete and ready to go, you guessed. And it was time to share with Ubbe the news.

Both kings looked at you when the brothers arrived. Before you could notice the difference between them, Ubbe talked.

“I’ve been looking for you” he lifted the corner of his mouth, not completing the smile. “Good morning, father. King Ecbert”

“Ubbe” your father nodded in recognition.

“Where is your saddle?”

Indeed, while Sigurd was wearing his riding clothes, Ubbe was still in his usual, prince-ish robes. Not only he was wearing a long, cobalt tunic with silver embroidery, but he didn’t carry the usual smell of staying in the barn for hours.

When his brother rolled his eyes and walked away, Ubbe smiled. He had had enough time to prepare his horse, clean his riding boots and choose his favorite saddle. If he had wanted, he could have gone to the hunting raid, just as it was planned for him to go.

He liked to hunt. Like the adrenaline of chasing a prey and the silence of the forest. When they hunted, his father and him went back to his childhood, where they shared a deep bond. But he had decided against it.

“I won’t be accompanying you today, after all” Ubbe explained. “There are… matters I need to take care of. Maybe I can help princess Y/N packing”

“You won’t have to” Ecbert interrupted him.

“Oh”

Looking at your father, Ubbe lowered his head. His idea had been to stay behind with the excuse of helping you to pack. He didn’t know why, but after you were interrupted in his chambers, he had felt the need to spend one last day with you. Hvitserk had left the castle early in the morning to complete his weekly activities in the cabin, which included two brunets’ servants and the daughter of the baker.

So there was little chance of being interrupted.

He tried not to show his disappointment, because if you didn’t have to pack bags, then he didn’t have a reason to stay.

“We’ll be… staying. For another day” you explained, not meeting his eyes. “Because my father might get tired in the hunting raid, and it’s a long way back to Wessex. If it’s not a problem”

When Ragnar didn’t answer, Ubbe realized you were talking to him.

It took him by surprise that you were staying, but it was even more surprising that it was just for a day. Because he had known, deep down, that his intention today was to convince you to stay. That, during the last seven days, he had tried; first unconsciously, then as a choice. He started the summer mildly convinced that he had to marry you, and now he didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

Just that a day was an awful short amount of time.

“You could always check the old storage room” Ragnar proposed finally, breaking the silence. “It’s full of games and objects you used as children, and I’ve been asking you to take a look for a while. Maybe Y/N can help you”

“She can. She’s really organized” Ecbert contributed. “Besides, it is a bad day to stay outside. Just let these old dogs enjoy the hunting raid and find something to do. We will be back soon. Don’t want to get too tired”

“Indeed. Only God knows how many days in bed will earn us the hunting trip” Ragnar started at you with an amused smile. “Might be weeks”

“Might be, my dear friend. Shall we go?”

Both kings turned around and walked towards the carriage, that would take them to the designated part of the forest. Where the rest of the town would be waiting, with their dogs and bows ready.

While they walked away, you thought about how lucky you were. Your father would willingly stay for the whole summer if that’s what you wanted to, if that made you happy. He would also cancel the hunting raid and ride back to Wessex himself.

You stayed in silence as they got into the carriage and told the driver to move, until they drew up dust from the path and Sigurd kicked his horse to lead the way.

You had never had any problem talking with Ubbe. With remarks or mean words, you always kept the conversation going until you were torn apart by the adults or one of you couldn’t physically talk. But while the first drops of rain hit the ground, you kept quiet, not knowing what to say.

The meaning behind your decision was clear – that you wanted to try again, that you were willing to finally accept his hand. That you had consciously turned away the chance of changing your fate, consciously had chosen to marry him, without a proposal or weeding plans.

Staying meant you had admitted your intention of moving forwards, to whatever future you could hope for, and now it was Ubbe’s turn to answer. The decision of staying instead of going to the hunting raid could be an answer, but he didn’t know your decision yet.

So you waited, as rain started to wet your hair and soak your dress.

You waited in silence, until a cape was wrapped around your shoulders and a pair of hands turned you away from the path your father had just disappeared from.

“We should get inside” Ubbe spoke through the rain, that had gotten heavy a matter of seconds. “Fuck. It’s – fuck!”

“Oh my god” you couldn’t help but laugh when suddenly you were hit with what felt like a gallon of water.

You let yourself be lead away from the main door while Ubbe wrapped an arm around your shoulder. With a natural instinct, you shifted closer to him until you fit under his arm.

It wasn’t funny, but you couldn’t stop laughing, and soon, Ubbe was laughing too. It wasn’t the pearly smile you had seen that day at the courtyard, that flashed in your mind without your permission. It was different, and at the same time, wonderful.

You ran through the rain, not tripping against each other’s feet by luck. Servants that were taking cover in the barns stared when you passed by, and a man with bulky clothes tried to stop Ubbe with a scandalized scream.

Once you finally took cover, you were soaked. The rain had drenched Ubbe’s cape, now heavy on your shoulders, and the bottom of your dress was full of mud. Even your socks, under thick books, were wet. Still smiling, you stared at Ubbe as he moved your hair out of your face, letting you see his full smile. It was beautiful, his chipped front tooth a reminder of you.

Although he was too drenched to the bones, his hands felt warm, or maybe it was your cheeks. Or maybe you were running a fever and you were hallucinating, because suddenly, it was a déjà vu from that morning. He was looking at your lips and you were wondering what it would feel to stay forever, not just for a day.

His finger hovered over your mouth, a ghost touch.

“You look like a wet rat”

“And you smell like a wet horse”

He scoffed and for a second, you thought he was going to actually kiss you. That he was going to move forward and you were going to meet him at the middle. In a perfect fantasy, he would ask you to stay and you would choose to, not using excuses or prologues.

You would never know, because thunder roared in the sky and the moment was broken.

 -

 What Ragnar defined as an old storage room was everything but that. It could have been a room, a long time ago, with high windows and a clear view of the forest. But someone had decided to start accumulating things inside, and now you could barely take two steps straight.

You hadn’t bothered bathing, neither had Ubbe. As if not spending every minute of the day together was an offense, you changed clothes with your backs to each other, not even using the bathroom. You chose a dark green dress that showed your boots, comfortable to move, and Ubbe had put on a different tunic.

He showed you the storage room, moving the curtains. Everything was covered with white, dusty sheets, and you were in for a long morning.

“I threw Hvitserk down the stairs with one of these” Ubbe said from behind you, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. “He broke through a window and didn’t even get a bruise”

You looked away from the pile of children’s clothes that you were trying to organize. He was holding up a large piece of wood attached to one wheel, the other missing. Indeed, you remembered using a similar one in some occasions, although you didn’t have a specific memory with it.

Between mountains of garbage, you had found many children’s toys and clothes. After spending a lifetime of summers together, you had gathered a good amount of entertainment options. In a useless attempt of bringing you closer, your fathers had brought you everything a child would want or need. Not realizing until it was too late that you would hit each other with it before sharing.

“Didn’t you race me with one of those in the gardens?” you tried to remember, getting closer.

“You were winning so I tried to shorten through my mother’s roses” he chuckled. “She got mad, but you were furious”

“You destroyed every last of them!” you laughed too, remembering that summer.

It was one of the first ones you spent in Mercia, and you had never used a toy like that one. Thinking you wouldn’t know how, Ubbe had raced you and you had won, and in the meantime, he had destroyed half of his mother’s garden. You remembered her scolding and feeling furious at him.

So angry, that you used his favorite wooden sword as a throwing dagger during the next day.

You moved closer to him, looking at the piece of wood. Even if you had argued more than talked, it wasn’t always boring. There were games and competitions. When you were all young, Ubbe didn’t discriminate you from being a girl, and included you in the games where he thought he could win. Somewhere in the way that changed and your worlds drifted apart.

“You care too much about flowers” he said, raising from where he was sitting.

“It’s not I have many things to care about in here. I can’t cook, train or ride, and needlework is definitely not one of my passions. No matter how much your mother tries” you explained. There was only a foot between you two. “Flowers are… nice. They are beautiful”

“If you want to, I could assign some more servants to the garden. So they can help you take care of them”

If you want to stay, I could make you happy, just so you know

Ubbe let the hidden meaning clear. Because if you left after your father rested, then the garden was the least of your concerns. He couldn’t care less about the flowers or the garden, and he knew right then, that if it made you stay, he would send his whole army to take care of those flowers.

In that dark room, crowded with objects from your past, he waited for you to answer. It was impossible that you hadn’t understood what he meant, and by the way you stared at him, he knew. In just seven days, he had made a decision that had been asked from him for sixteen years. Sixteen years under the pressure of getting to know you and take you as his wife.

Only when you were no longer under that much pressure, he finally saw it clear.

“It would be nice” you answered, your voice small. “You could help me sometimes. If you want to”

Through the window, another lighting broke the sky. The storm was now loud and wild, thunders and lighting accompanying the rain. Someone appeared through the trees riding a horse at full speed, towards the castle. It would take them a while to reach the gates, and you didn’t notice them.

Not when Ubbe’s blue eyes were staring right into your soul, and when yours couldn’t decide where to look – to them or to his mouth.

“You’re staying” he tried, not a question but a fact. A need.

“If you want me to”

Before you could notice the smoke that was raising from the middle of the forest, he crossed the invisible line he had drawn sixteen years ago and pressed his lips against yours. They were rough and demanding, not like the shy, first kisses you had shared with boys in your kingdom.

You could have fallen if it wasn’t for the table that was behind you, or for his hand that pressed your hips against his. There was no air between you two, no space for second guesses. Only his lips and hands on your body, and yours on his neck.

One of yours caressed the back of his head, your thumb brushing the soft hair where his braid started. Not knowing what to you with the other one, you held yourself together by holding onto the desk. Afraid he would let you go and you would crash into the ground, knees turned into jelly.

But he didn’t let you.

With his free hand holding your head straight, demanding more of you, he broke free for air. His pupils were blown, almost no trace of blue behind them. No one had ever touched you the way he was, and you understood that no one would in the near future, if you had a saying in it.

Ubbe didn’t move his hand from your face. Instead, giving you time to push him away, he lowered it down your neck. Something inside him screamed to let go, to forget about what was expected from him and lower his hand more, until there was no turning back. The way you were looking at him, the way you weren’t moving, made it harder.

But he resisted and let his hand go to his original place, to your cheek.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked after a long minute, his voice rough and deep. “We don’t – you don’t have to. Not even if you stay”

“Shut up”

Once more, you crashed your lips against his and he let you, smiling against them. You could feel every curve and corner of his body that you had guessed that morning under the covers. The room’s temperature grew in seconds, and when the hand on your waist moved lower, you let him.

Sixteen years of frustration, hate and disagreement were forgotten as you felt your skirt move higher, his leg making its way between yours.

One thing was to sleep in the same room, to let people assume you were together, but another one was to actually do it. Before you could regret your decision or let your brain caught up with your heart, someone knocked at the door urgently.

“It’s the king! The king is dead!”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Taglist:

@66vikings

#ubbe #ubbe ragnarson #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe imagine #ubbe one shot #ubbe x reader #ubbe fic #ubbe vikings #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings one shot #vikings series #ubbe series #vikings x reader #ubbe lothbrok imagine #ubbe lothbrok one shot #ubbe lothbrok x reader #ubbe ragnarson imagine #ubbe ragnarson one shot #ubbe ragnarson x reader #hvitserk #sigurd #ragnar #imaginesmai #imagine mai #imagine #one shot #x reader #fic #the swan princess

[cowgurrrl]

Going throw out some ideas for one shots for your Look for the Light series: Charlie's 1st birthday, one of their Christmas' (before or after she is born depending on the timeline), first time she rides a pony/horse?

I LOVE THE BIRTHDAY IDEA ps i'm so sunburnt and sleepy so idk if this works but HERE pps I’m gonna start tagging my songs in the titles so here

Sooner

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Warnings: what is grief if not love persevering [1.1k]

Birthdays are hard in the Miller household. They always remind you that you've lived another year without normalcy or the people you loved. Joel didn't even tell you when his birthday was for the first few months you knew him, that September day looming large over all of you. You always try to do fun stuff during the day for Ellie's birthday, but the night is hers. Every year since you've settled in Jackson, she sits outside and looks up at the stars on the final hours of her birthday. The year she turned seventeen, you finally asked her what she does when she's out there, and she turned red before nervously admitting, "I, uh, talk to my mom." You never asked her about it again. Your birthday has felt unimportant since you were sixteen with a baby. It feels even more unimportant without Jane. But Charlie, Charlie's birthday is the best.

You spend weeks planning her first birthday, and it's a little stupid considering she won't remember it, but Joel doesn't try to stop you. It's in August, never too hot or cold, and all the kids are still out of school. You invite the Other Millers and a few friends you've made on patrol, and Ellie invites Jessie and Dina. On the day of her birthday, you, Ellie, and Joel spread flowers around two picnic tables, framing her little cake in the middle and setting up pitchers of water and homemade lemonade. Tommy and Joel grill while you and Ellie take turns with Charlie, who's wearing an adorable yellow dress and a hat that's only slightly too big for her head. You didn't expect anyone to bring anything, but sure enough, your friends and even Jessie show up with little wrapped gifts and put them on the table next to the cake.

It's a beautiful day. Bees buzz through the air, and a nice breeze rustles the leaves. It's a much better day than a year ago when you were in excruciating pain for several hours. You know you would do it all over again for how Charlie reaches for you or for getting to see her grow. She's started pulling herself up on things recently. It doesn't matter if it's a chair, the couch, or a table; she will grab part of it and stand on her own two legs. Her favorite is to pull herself up on the desk in the corner of the living room and point at the faded pictures of you and Jane and Joel and Sarah. In the pictures, Joel and Sarah pose for a camera at a soccer game, and you and Jane smile from your place on a curb. Charlie will stare at them for as long as she can stand, like she's trying to memorize the two faces that almost look like her.

It hurts that pictures and stories are the closest she'll ever get to knowing Sarah and Jane, but you do your best to tell her about them. You tell her about how Jane lived in your belly just like she did and about how much she liked music. You tell her that Sarah liked soccer and lived with her daddy before you met. You doubt she understands, but talking about them that way makes it a little easier to deal with their constant absence. You think about them as everyone starts singing Happy Birthday to Charlie, a single candle flickering in the breeze as Charlie bops her head to the words. You laugh and fight tears as you encourage her to blow out her candle, and before you can even "help" her blow it out, the wind picks up and extinguishes the flame all on its own. You and Joel make eye contact over Charlie's head and share a secret thought, smiling to yourselves before kissing Charlie's cheeks and cutting the tiny cake.

Then, you open gifts with Charlie on your lap and Joel by your side. Ellie sits across from you two on the picnic table, hands Charlie each present, and helps organize them in true big sister fashion. Jessie got her a hand-me-down book about the moon, a few of your friends knitted her blankets or hats for the winter, and Tommy and Maria got her hand drum which she immediately started banging on the second you unwrapped it. You thank everyone and clap Charlie's hands for her once you're all done, but Ellie slides a wrapped box across the table before you can move.

"Bel, you didn't have to get her anything." You say, and she shrugs.

"I wanted to," she says, and you look at Joel. "Besides, it's not just for her." You smile and reach across the table to grab her hand as you and Joel work together to open the box, Charlie reaching for the shredded paper as it falls. When you open the gift and see what's at the bottom, you gasp and put a hand over your mouth. Joel wraps an arm around your shoulder and sniffles as he pulls the frame out to look at it in the summer sun.

Inside the beautiful yellow frame is a drawing with Ellie's signature on the bottom. It's your family. Jane is tucked safely in front of you, a hand on her shoulder, as you hold Charlie on your left hip. Joel is to your right because he always is, and Ellie and Sarah are on either side of him—all six of you together for the first and last time. "I used the photos on the desk for the drawings, and Tommy helped, too. I hope that's okay," Ellie says as a tear falls down your cheek. You shift Charlie in your arms so you can walk over and hug Ellie tightly. Charlie kicks her legs excitedly at being so close to her sister, and you sniffle. "D'you like it?"

"Honey, I love it. It's so beautiful and thoughtful. Thank you." You say as you look at her. She smiles and wipes your tears away, making you laugh. Charlie wiggles her way into Ellie's arms while Joel comes over to hug Ellie. There, wrapped up in a Williams-Miller sandwich, Joel and Ellie say something you can't hear, but when they break their hug, both of them have tears staining their faces.

That night, you hang the frame in the living room so you can see it every day. Charlie kisses Sarah and Jane's frozen faces before you put it up and every day after that, she pulls herself up onto the couch so she can point at the picture of her complete family. Every once in a while, she'll blow kisses or bang on her drum before looking up at Jane as if she were there to coach her. You like to think that she is. You like to think they're both just in the next room over, whispering secret messages and leaving clues for you to find. You like to think they know and love Charlie in the way that you will always know and love them.

#look for the light #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel and ellie #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #the last of us fluff

[sky-drgn]

Wanting To Forget

Genre: Angst with a happy ending Pronouns: you/your; implied fem reader, use of she once Warnings: Character Death(s), small spoilers for romantic ending and engagement event, please let me know if I missed any Words: 3,339 Notes: I apologize for making you look at my absolutely terrible attempt to make a banner. Please send me asks about the ending. There was only so much that could fit in with out it being out of place. Edited to the best of my ability, there still might be mistakes, lemme know and I'll fix them ^-^ Completely inspired by this poll!

King Chevalier didn't know how it came to this. No, he knows. Chevalier can not forget, after all. He can't forget anything. Never so much did he want to. He wanted to forget that day, that week. Oh, how he wanted to forget. 

He wanted to forget the bone-chilling news that you had successfully been assassinated. That he wasn't there to save you, to protect you, as he promised himself he would be. 

It was a quiet afternoon; with Chevalier and his brothers away at war, the castle seemed empty. The usual bustling atmosphere the king and the princes had around them was gone. Despite the war going on beyond the borders, it was peaceful within the kingdom, the castle. Your day went on as usual. Work with Sarial in the morning, lessons on how to be the Queen with the same man in the afternoon, and early evening you put those lessons to use by organizing your fiance's paperwork. Late evening, after dinner and retiring to your room, you’d often find yourself doing your own studies on how to be Queen. During this time, the maids or Rio would bring a cup of tea to help you relax. The days were long and felt even longer without Chevalier by your side, not knowing if he was safe. You knew he would be; he didn’t earn the nickname the Brutal Beast for nothing. But an enemy that got not only Jade but Obsidian to ally with Rholidate and Benitoite scared you. The enemy had to be a great one if it brought all four kingdoms together. 

“Here you are, My Lady.” Your most trusted maid said as she put down your evening tea. “Rio has gone out to greet the messenger. He should be back with news of his Majesty and his brothers before you retire for the night.” 

“Thank you so much.” You said, gladly accepting the claiming tea. “I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep without knowing what the messenger had to say, no matter what.” 

Rio knocked on your door just under an hour later, but it was too late. You were already gone.

King Chevalier, his brothers, allies, and troops were returning to their kingdoms, but the trip home was long. It could not be made in one day. They set up camp for the night and would be home by mid to late afternoon the next day. While no one wanted to be out an extra day, they knew it would be best for them, their troops, and their horses. What no one expected - or wanted - was to see an exhausted Rio riding up to the camp by the time breakfast was over the next morning. 

It had been Nokto who greeted Rio and Leon who sent Clavis to get Chevalier. He had just finished packing his own belongings. He had heard the commotion outside the tent but thought nothing of it. The serious look on Clavis's face, however, did bring an unsettling feeling. Clavis always wore a smile of some kind; seeing him without one was rare, to say the least. 

“King Chevalier…” Rio said, while uncharacteristically kneeling before him, “Y/N’s been poisoned. She was gone before we knew what happened.” 

Everyone knew that the news was not going to be good news when Rio showed up, but the news of your death shocked everyone. They were expecting bad news if Rio came all the way out here, but this was far worse than they imagined. And then all eyes were on Chevalier. While it was Clavis that had held onto the last bits of his humanity, it was you that helped him unlock the rest, you who helped him become the man he was today. It was never a secret that you were the light of his life. You, who was now gone. 

“The plan stays the same. We return to the castle.” Chevalier said as if he didn’t just hear the love of his life was taken far too soon. But everyone knew that wasn't the case. He moved a little faster as he turned with a flip of his cape, returning to his tent to finish collecting his belongings.

Rio and his horse were allowed a moment to rest and were given some food and water. No one knew what Chevalier was doing in his tent, but no one dared question, especially with the princes staying close just in case.

Upon the return to the castle, King Chevalier was debriefed on everything that happened. The assassin that slipped the poison in your tea was in and out castle quickly and easily. However, they were caught. They had to stay behind to make sure it worked after all. Sariel had them in custody within the hour of finding out you were gone.

Alone in his room, Chevalier silently cried for the first time since he was a baby. You weren’t going to come back to him this time.

Oh, how Chevalier wished he could forget how he failed to protect you.

King Chevalier knew you'd disagree with this. You'd reassure him that he was protecting you, and the kingdom, by being out on the battlefield with his brothers and allied nations. Even Obsidian sided with Rhodolite in this war. You'd tell him he did everything he could. Leaving behind his most trusted to watch over you. Telling him that no one could have predicted the enemy would be able to hire such a skilled assassin to get through all the castle security, the security Chevalier always had for you. Even your own self-defense skill you’d just started learning. All that means nothing in the face of foreign poison. One that wasn’t as obvious as others. One that was given to you by a trusted maid. Said maid was even unaware of the poison hidden in your tea. 

The one rest-assured thing about the news was that you hadn’t suffered. It was quick. And from what the doctors could tell, painless. 

Despite being only two and half months away from being Queen, you’d been given the treatment of one. However, Chevalier knew better than anyone that you’d want things to remain humble. The funeral, while fitting for a Queen, was reserved for family and close friends. No nobilities that would've attended a royal's wedding out of respect and formalities, and no foreign royals that might do the same. It was just Chevalier, all his brothers, Rio, Sariel, the bookstore owner - the man might as well have been your adopted father after all -, and even Chevalier’s grandfather. The older man was surprised to get an invitation. He hated that it was your funeral he was attending and not the other way around, but he was there and did the best he knew how to support his grandson. Meanwhile, the citizens left flowers at the front gates, the bookstore, and some at your house in town. 

It was a heartbreaking sight. 

Following the funeral, Clavis and the rest of the others more or less force Chevalier to take some time to properly grieve. All of his work was picked up by all his seven brothers. Something all had no problem doing. And when it was time for the king to return to his work, the first thing he did was make it so his future nieces and nephews would be ones the future Belle would have to get to know for the crown. Chevalier would not and could not love anyone that wasn’t you, children that weren't yours. He knew that one day his brothers would have children, children that would have every right to the crown. No one was against this. After all, no one wanted a repeat of the event that led to the eight brothers. 

And so the years passed on. To everyone's surprise, it was Luke that was the first to marry and go on to have two kids of his own. While Luke’s oldest was still young, Yves got married and would go on to have three kids. Clavis would marry when Yves’ middle child and Luke’s youngest were learning to walk; he’d have five children with his wife. However, before Clavis could have his third child, Jin would succumb to the same illness that took his mother. Clavis worked tirelessly to try and find a cure, Chevalier giving him some help with both the research and his regular work. Chevalier would also remind his younger brother to spend time with his wife and two kids. Jin passed without having kids, and not long after, Licht joined his eldest brother after receiving a fatal injury on the battlefield. Leon was grateful that the oldest twin was able to attend his wedding only months prior. The head of the domestic faction would go on to honor his late younger brother when his only child was born a year later. Before that, however, Nokto would formally take a few mistresses, in which he’d at least one child with each. He would find a way to honor his late twin in his own way. 

Chevalier watched his nieces and nephews grow and mature. He watched as some of them decided the throne wasn’t for them; they wanted to be able to support their cousins in their journey for the throne. Others left the castle to find their own path in helping their kingdom outside the stuffy castle walls. Chevalier, as the king, gave them permission to do so and was proud of them as their uncle. He knew that that was what you would want. To support the family he has left, to keep his heart and not lock it away. 

The king would watch when Luke fell ill with the same illness their father had. While he had more years, Jin did when they realized he was sick; after his youngest got engaged, he too would pass on. Leon would be able to see his grandchild be born, but not their first steps; a new strong poison - much like what took you - would take him as well. That was a shock to everyone; Leon had built resistance to poisons in his lifetime. Unfortunately, recovering from a bad cold and advanced age did not help him in fighting off the poison. Yves would live until all his grandchildren were born, the youngest just barely young enough to remember him; his cause of death is unknown to everyone. 

Nokto was not fortunate enough to have a good relationship with his children; their family dynamic was unique compared to that of his brothers. Despite their mothers knowing - and explaining to their children - full well what they were agreeing to when they agreed to be Nokto's mistresses. The few women had the situation explained to them several times with plenty of time to back out, but they all agreed. Still, their children didn't understand, and so it strained their relationship with their father. Still, Nokto was there for them, and they knew he would always be. That was until negotiations went wrong, and a miss-fired gun would take Nokto from them. Clavis would comfort them and tell them their father was with his twin and the rest of his brothers. That it was alright to miss him even if they never spent as much time with him in life as they could have. Clavis explained that Nokto always understood where his children were coming from and that he was never upset or angry or anything bad; he was glad that everyone got along - at least better than he and his half brothers. This did bring Nokto's children comfort.

And then it was just Chevalier and Clavis. Most would say they had the most stereotypical brother relationship, equally hate each other while equally caring - in secret. Though, it was less of a secret after your passing and with the years going by. Clavis would occasionally have no choice but twist the knife, asking his brother what you would think of his actions, what you would do. Chevalier would scowl at him; how dare he say your name, but Clavis was right, of course. You would be disappointed in some of his actions, the lack of heart in his actions, and the remainder from Clavis helped him keep his heart, even if hurt. 

It hurt remembering your smiling face. Remembering your first kiss, your first time. Remembering when you came back to him after a year of separation, the warmth of your skin when you hugged him tight with the separation over. How gorgeous you look in your engagement dress, the kiss on his cheek after your engagement ceremony. Remembering how gorgeous you looked when you tried on your wedding dress for the first time. The wedding never got to happen. 

Chevalier wasn't one to visit graves, he saw no purpose, but yours he found himself several times over the years. As per usual, it was Clavis's suggestion. It had been your first birthday since you'd been taken from him. Clavis took off early to make you a “cake” to leave at your grave. Slight jealousy flared up within him, and he ended up going sometime later. There at the grave was a misshapen cake. Chevalier wasn’t sure if it was edible, but he left it knowing that Clavis worked hard on it, knowing that someone else would come to clean it or an animal would come to eat it. Still, though, he wasn’t sure what to do here. He never visited a grave just to visit. Remembering something once told to him, he spoke to your grave about the major things that happened since his last visit, about the books he’s read and which you would have enjoyed.

Visiting your grave site became more and more often as he allowed his nieces and nephews to take over some work. Once he stepped down as king, it was a weekly, then an almost daily thing. The brothers that he had left found this very uncharacteristic of him. However, what else would he do with his time? When he was younger, it was studies and reading, then it was work and reading, then it was work, reading, and spending time with you, but then it was back to work and reading. Without work, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. Sure, there was handling the Michel manor work, but that didn’t take up nearly as much time, nor was it a daily thing. Clavis found it sweet and incredibly sad. 

The daily trips turned back into weekly trips as he aged, and his health slowly declined. Before he knew it, he was bedridden, much like his late grandfather. Chevalier was able to get out of bed to do some activities, but making the trip down to the graveyard wasn’t one of them. He didn’t feel bad about this. Despite all the years that had passed, he still didn’t see the significance in going. There were bits and pieces of you all over the castle. His private library, your old room, the gardens, his room, and much more. All of them had your touch. Much of the things you’d left in his room have remained exactly where they were, and he only added books to your shelf in his private library, only the books he knew you’d enjoy. Even without going to the cemetery, you were with him. Even bedridden, you were with him. In the same room he always had, in the room the two of you were supposed to share - did share on many nights.

However, he did make one last trip to the graveyard on the anniversary of your death with the last brother he has left. The one that’s always been by his side. Clavis.

Clavis would see him back to his room and sit next to him. His wife, kids, nieces, and nephews are nearby in the castle. He’d make idol chatter with his older brother. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about. 

“Thank you, Clavis,” Chevalier said, interrupting Clavis’s random talking. “For everything over the years.” 

Clavis was stunned, speechless, to say the least. Never has Chevalier thanked him.

Despite all pain and heartache remembering you brought Chevalier, he was glad he never forgot you. 

A few days later, a funeral was held for former King Chevalier. He had peacefully passed in his sleep with Clavis by his side.

The ringing of the bell alerted the black-haired bookstore worker to a new customer. Looking up, he saw one of the usuals approaching. They went to the local university and often studied in a quiet area upstairs, often with the owner's third “son,” as they went to the same university. The black-haired male wasn’t sure how they studied together, having two different majors, but it kept the hellcat out of his hair, so he didn’t care. 

“I believe Clavis is still in class if you’re looking for him.” The male told the customer. They were dressed in fine clothes, with their rather high-quality backpack resting on their shoulders. Being from the upper class had its perks. “He should be back in an hour if you want to wait upstairs.” 

“Actually, I’m here to meet Chevalier. Do you know if he’s here yet?” 

“He’s in the back. Boss made him his own little library back there. It’s around the corner.”

“Thanks, Sariel!” 

Sariel watched you go around to Chevalier’s private area, wondering when the two of you had met. Chevalier is two years ahead of you and Clavis and doesn’t come to the bookstore too often anymore. 

“Rholidate’s Fallen Rose.” You said, approaching the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty. “That’s one of my favorites.” 

“I didn’t expect a simpleton to enjoy such a tragic book.” 

“The tragedy added to the beauty of the story. I’m surprised to see you reading it, though. It’s not actually a romance story.” 

“Am I only allowed to read romances now?” 

“I’ve never seen you read anything else before, with the expectation of things for your job, but that’s different.” Putting your bookbag down, you picked a book off the shelf and sat down next to Chevalier. Having taken a romance book yourself.

“Could say the same about you,” Chevalier said with a short chuckle. “I thought you were going to work on your paper that’s due in two weeks.” 

“You’ll help with it later, won’t you? We don’t get to relax like this often. I want to be able to take the time while we have it.” 

Chevalier said nothing, just smirked as he wrapped his arm around you. You two had been dating for just under a year. Between his work and your university work, it had been hard to find time for dates or just being together. So much so that not many people knew the two of you were dating. Chevalier’s mothers and younger brother know. Your adoptive father and the important people in your lives know as well. There was no need for grand declarations or for the entire country to know. It was just the two of you, happy and in love.

That love would be shown to the rest of your families and friends two years later. After a quiet and heartfelt proposal came a beautiful wedding. Chevalier looked as handsome as he always does with a white tuxedo with yellow accents and a tie. Your own outfit fit for royalty highly based on what was supposed to be Belle’s wedding dress from Rholidate’s Fallen Rose. Really the entire wedding felt like it should have taken place within the book. Although it was scalded down from what would have been that neither you nor Chevalier was royalty. It felt perfect. Like all the puzzle pieces finally came together. Like coming home after a long, drawn-out battle. It felt like everything was going exactly how it was supposed to. 

In the warm embrace of your lover, as the day of your wedding ended, the two of you knew that you would love each other in all of your lifetimes.

IkePri Mastelist

#ikepri chevalier #ikepri #prince chevalier #chevalier michel #prince chevalier michel #prince chevalier x reader #ikepri chev #prince chev #ikepri x reader #chevalier michel x reader #ikemen chevalier #angst with happy ending #character death #tw character death #prince chevalier 🥰🥰🥰 #sky's writing ⛅

[red-dead-do-over246]

Hi, me again - I couldn't help it. 💓I thought of prompt #244 "I can't sleep, can I sleep her?" + #186 "C'me, I don't mind letting you sleep on me". Micah x neutral Reader. Soft Micah.~🔥

I don't know how often I can wish for something. But I can't help it - your stories are so great. ☆

Thank you, looking forward to it💖

No problem!❤️ Thank you so much!😊 I hope to make your wishes come true!

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A Good Boy

Micah tries his hardest to be a good boy for you. After all, you seem a little hesitant around him. Good thing a trip to Colter warms things up for both of you.

#186 “C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me.”

#244 “I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?”  

It was Dutch who told both of you to return to Colter. Apparently, during the journey down the Grizzlies, Dutch forgot some money. It’s surprising that Dutch of all people would forget money, but he was in a rush to get the family out of harm’s way.

For some reason, he figured that you and Micah would get the job done.

I guess you were the only one who could put up with him. All the other gang members would much rather just shoot him, and he probably felt the same way towards them. Still, his gruff nature really put you off. I mean, did he even care?

Yes. He cares quite a bit.

No one would guess that Micah of all people would care for you the most. And, yes, he knows that you seem a bit hesitant around him. Micah notices that people are uncomfortable with him, but what makes him more irritable is knowing you are one of those people. You hang out with people like Arthur and Charles.

The good boys.

It made Micah absolutely sick to his stomach to think that you preferred them over him. Perhaps that’s what you were into. The men who steered the right way in life. The absolute opposite of him. Micah knew it would extremely hard for him to do, but he was determined to do it.

He was going to become a good boy.

“Y/N, stay close. Don’t need you getting eaten by a bear or anything.” He said, slowing his own horse down so you could catch up. The gesture was sweet for Micah Bell, but it wasn’t enough to make you feel entirely comfortable.

So, you continued the ride to Colter with Micah unknowingly sulking.

Once you arrived at the rundown mining town, it was close to dark. Normally, Micah would keep pressing on no matter how cold and miserable he was. However, now he had you here with him, and he could see you shaking. Whether it be from cold or the howling wolves, he didn’t know.

All he did notice is that you looked afraid.

“Let’s hold up in here.” Micah said, dismounting Baylock and leading him to the stables. You followed suit, unsure of why he made such a decision. Yes, you were scared, but that has never stopped Micah Bell before.

What’s changed?

“Is there...a reason we’re stopping for the night?” You asked him after you guys made it inside one of the small cabins. Micah bit back any gruff words that may have come out of his mouth, remembering who he was talking to.

“Just is a little dark...and you seem kind of shaken up.” He said, mumbling out that last bit because, for Micah, it felt too close to saying how he felt towards you.

All you could do was nod.

So, the two of you quietly got set up for the night. Micah was a lot simpler than you with just a bedroll and a bottle of something to keep his blood flowing. You set up your bedroll a distance away, but also was pulling something else out of your bag. Micah leaned forward a bit to get a better look.

“Watcha got there?” He asked, watching as you jumped a bit, the object falling from your hands. Slowly, you picked it back up.

“It’s a...a dreamcatcher. Charles made it for me.” You explained, and it made Micah’s blood absolutely boil. However, he remembered that he was trying to be a good man for you. So, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“Really? What’s it do?” He asked, feigning interest. You blinked a bit before looking down at the handcrafted dreamcatcher and responding.

“It’s supposed to catch bad dreams...and protect you...when we were up here before, Charles told me about the Wendigo...I guess I just get a bit scared here at night.” You said, looking down at your lap. In truth, you were waiting for him to laugh at you.

It never came.

You looked up to see him staring back at you with a look that made you feel slightly flustered. Micah nodded a bit before placing his bottle aside.

“Well Y/N...I’ll keep you safe from any...evil spirit...that dares ignore your lovely little trinket there.” Micah said before dimming the lantern and falling onto his back. You looked at the dreamcatcher before looking at Micah, a small bit of fondness growing in your chest.

Perhaps he wasn’t a bad man after all.

You tried to go to sleep soon after he did, but all you could do was lay there. Every sound would make you shiver, and the wind blowing this rickety wooden hut around make every creak sound so eerie. Your mind kept going to every evil and dangerous thing in the book.

Then you remembered what Micah said. He’d keep you safe.

An idea soon came to your head, and you knew it was a terrible one from the start. However, it was your only option when it came to getting some sleep. If the answer was no, you would accept that and forget this ever happened. With that in mind, you crawled over to where Micah was curled up.

“Micah?” You whispered, unsure if the man was still asleep or not.

“Yes?” His response was quick, and you realized he hadn’t fallen asleep either. In fact, you’ve never seen him sleep, but you knew his reasons differed from yours and you weren’t about to pry him on that. You bothered him to ask a question that you were terrified to ask.

But you had to.

“I can’t sleep, can I sleep here?” Your voice was quiet, embarrassed...ashamed. It caused Micah to fully sit up, turn around, and face you. Again, you were waiting for the mockery, the laughter, the familiar cruelty of Micah Bell.

But when you looked up at him, you saw an entirely different man from the one you knew. There was a softer look on his face; one of sadness, one of...gentleness.

Micah sighed through his nose, thinking of his options. Was he ready for this? He wanted so badly to have you close to him, and this was his opportunity. So, he was going to be kind here, but he still was Micah Bell, and it was hard for him not to sound gruff.

“C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me.” Micah tried his best to sound gruff, but he couldn’t stop the softness in his voice. It takes a lot of trust to sleep beside another person.

And Micah couldn’t believe that you trusted him so.

When you cuddled up into him, seeking comfort and warmth, it made his heart flutter in a way it’s never done before. This was the closest you’ve ever been to him, and it made Micah feel so small yet so valued.

Soon, you actually fell asleep, which caused his heart to warm even more.

Slowly and carefully, Micah put an arm around you to keep you close to him. He didn’t know whether it was because he was the only person here or if you actually were starting to feel comfortable with him, but Micah was just glad to have you close to him.

Perhaps this was the turning point in his relationship with you.

Whatever the case may be, you stayed by his side the whole night in Colter. And for once, Micah felt safe enough to actually fall asleep.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #micah bell #micah x reader #rdr2 micah bell #micah bell x reader

[lec743]

Darksiders concept thing-y with War

War was taking up the rear as they were all traveling through the snow covered forest. Death was taking the lead, showing them the way to the temple they were going to, to find the needed power source within. The snow made everything quiet, with only the soft nickering of their combined horses and Strife's low whistling filling the air.

The human woman was riding with him. She has her back pressed flush to his chest and abdomen as she is absorbing as much of his body heat as she can. He apparently radiates a lot of heat in her very loud opinion. It was annoying at first, as she had mostly been riding with Death or Strife during their journey together. Now after riding with her in his grasp for days, it's become comfortable... Almost soothing, even. Though he'll be damned before he lets anyone know about that.

"War?"

War blinked from his usual focus on his surrounding area as he looked down at her a little. She was still fussing with that string on her fingers making odd shapes out of it and then making new shapes out of the old shapes. War hummed an acknowledgement at her.

"What makes you happy?"

War turned his focus forward as he stared at the back of his sister's head. What an odd question to ask him.

"Why are you asking me that?" He ground out.

"The snow made me think of Christmas and Christmas made me think of my family and my family made me think of presents and then I thought about getting you and your siblings gifts, but it's not like I know you all super well. So that's why I'm asking."

"We don't need gifts," War said matter-of-factly.

War felt her bonk the back of her head against his chest a bit roughly and he looked down at her to see her frowning up at him. "No. Of course you don't need gifts. I just want to do it because I care. Now come on big guy, dig deep. What makes you happy?"

He kept eye contact with her for a minute longer before looking away from her determined look. War did try. He thought very hard about what made him happy. He told her about the joy of a really good fight. He told her of his love for his weapons. He told her about how much he cares about his horse. He told her how he enjoyed it when Strife was quiet, which made her laugh. She nodded along to what he enjoyed and when he finished she made her announcement.

"Alright. This is going to be harder than I thought, but it's a worthy challenge." Then she chuckled to herself as she made her voice sound funny in the end there, like she was trying to mimic how he and his siblings talk.

"Why do you insist on this quest of yours. We are the Horsemen, the great Enforcers. Bringers of the apocalypse. Mighty warriors that demons and angels fear a like. We need for nothing."

She huffed at him as she continued to fiddle with her string. "Keep talking like that Mister, and I'll end up being determined to gift you presents everyday."

War only gave her a rumbling grumble in return, making her giggle for some reason.

"Oh hush. Just accept that you have someone in your life now who wants to shower you and your siblings with affection. And this form of affection is taking the shape of gift giving."

The conversation petered out, and they continued on in silence, but War couldn't stop thinking about what she said.

"Human?"

"Hmmm?"

"... What makes you happy?"

She shifted a lot in his hold and when he looked down to see what she's doing, he got a face full of her hands as she stood up on her one foot. She then wrapped her arms around his head and his vision was blocked by her chest as she embraced him.

"Awe! War! It's so sweet of you to ask me that," she cooed and patted the back of his head as she rested her head on top of his.

War heard his blood roar in his ears as he started to feel light headed. He immediately brought a hand up to her back to pull her off him. She refused to budge. She was too distracted with fawning over him and the more he listened to her, the more he wanted to get rid of her.

He managed to maneuver her enough where he could see, then he compelled Ruin to trot faster so that he past Fury and was beside Strife.

"Take your human back," War growled at his older brother before fully pulling her off his person and throwing her into Strife's awaiting arms.

"Ah! No! Wait! Don't leave me with Strife!" She whined. "His armor makes him super cold!"

War looked away as he grabbed her peg leg and tossed it to her. "Not my problem."

She caught it. "Awe, War! Don't be like that! I didn't mean to embarrass you!"

"I'm a warrior. Warriors don't get embarrassed."

"Then why are you blushing so damn hard," Strife teased.

War gave him his best death glare before falling behind. He ignored the way the human woman reached out to him, her teeth already chattering from the cold and he ignored Fury's snickering. She can handle being cold for a little while.

#darksiders #fanfiction #darksiders war

[words-4u]

hidden love - k.s

pairing: kate sharma x reader

wc: 660

a/n: simone ashley is the new loml

ever since arriving in mayfair, the sharma family has caused quite a stir in the ton. shortly after arriving, edwina, the youngest sharma, was proclaimed the queen's diamond of the season which meant every suitable man was looking at her but it was her older sister that caught your eye. the moment your aunt, lady danbury, introduced you to her, you were utterly infatuated.

you've always known that you were different from other girls. yes, you liked going to social festivities and dressing up for balls but your romantic thoughts and feelings lay elsewhere; with women. of course, you could never act on anything publicly as that would bring much shame to lady danbury and you could not do that to her after all that she has done for you after your parents passed.

but that didn't stop how you felt when kate sharma walked into your life and turned it upside down. within the first week of her family's stay with you and your aunt, you discovered through the maids that kate enjoyed early morning rides so one morning you woke up extra early to dust off your riding boots and pick an appropriate dress. you were in the stable adjusting the saddle on your horse when you heard footsteps approach.

"couldn't sleep?" kate asked. even in the earliest of mornings, she looked breathtaking. her long thick hair, usually tucked in a bun, was now in a loose braid tossed to one side of her shoulder.

chuckling you responded, "something like that."

kate made her way to your horse. "you ride?"

"occasionally. are you headed out?" you ask, hoping she takes the hint and invites you to tag along for a horse ride.

"i am actually. i tend to sneak out alone but d-did you want to join me? i understand if you don't i merely–"

"miss sharma, i'd love to," you interrupted.

kate smiled softly and went over to one of the free horses and climbed on it in the most graceful manner and you followed her actions. with a swift kick, she was off. you tried your best to keep up as you raced through the open fields but you were no match for her. she was an excellent rider.

there was a clearing ahead with a few trees where kate stopped and got off her horse. reaching out her hand, she helped you get off yours but once you were on the ground your hand was still in hers. the sound of heavy breathing was all that you could hear. both your eyes trailed down each others cloak covered bodies not wanting to say a word to ruin this moment. within a matter of seconds, kate took initiative and pushed you against a tree. she searched your eyes seeking permission to do what she's been wanting to do for days: kiss you. a slight nod was all it took for kate to collide her lips onto yours fervently. the kiss was hot and was full of need and desire from both ends.

"we can't..." her hot breath on your face. you pressed her forehead against yours.

"i know," you replied and caught her lips once again. she made no further objections as she slipped her tongue into your mouth which was met with a moan from you. it was then that kate decided your moans were better than any pianoforte piece she's ever heard.

since that day in the clearing, you and kate have always found ways to sneak off together. it was more difficult during the day because she was so fixated on finding edwina's perfect match. well, that and the fact that the entire mayfair society would shun your family and hers without a question.

however, the nights and early mornings were yours and yours alone. it was the perfect time to explore each other and the more you did the harder you fell. kate sharma was it for you and you for her.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #fxf imagine #wlw #kate sharma #kate sharma imagine #kate sharma x reader

[gaitwae]

I also have non-sentence prompts too:

Reader pampers Loki after he has had a rough mission

summary: above!

Warnings/notes: pre-established relationship, mention of fire and horses

“There we go,” your voice soothed as you helped your husband into his ice bath. Loki’s burn was rather ugly, and his leg was torn up from all sorts of fires and magical heats that he hadn’t expected during the last mission.

It had been a quick fight — one flaming horse had trampled through the boroughs of New York City, whinnying and stomping about. Many fires had been started. Strange had been in charge of putting them out while he had been in charge of breaking in the horse.

That foal had not been bombproofed. 

It wouldn’t have ever let anyone ride it, and it certainly wouldn’t have won any show.

It was easily spooked. It was angry. It hated being ridden; it hated magic; it hated Loki riding it while he used magic. It was just a recipe for disaster, and he spent the entire time waiting for it to be over just so he could go home to you.

He hissed as his skin made contact with the cooling liquid that was supposed to help him recover. “Being mortal isn’t nearly as fun as it’s cracked up to be.”

“I told you I should have been Asgardian.” You laughed and kissed his head. “You did great today.”

He groaned as he felt your fingers massage his scalp. “Darling, I fought a fire monster next to Stephen Strange! Do you think that was smart of me?”

“I’d rather it be you and Strange than just you.” You deepened your touch. “I really can’t tell you how long I’ve stopped worrying when I see your progress on the news. I only start worrying when there’s less coverage.”

The more news there was, the less importance the story actually had. Y/N was only ever fretful when you heard evacuation notices and saw the TV glitch out. On those days, you gave him what for when he came home. Loki didn’t blame you — he would have done the same if he had not been fighting the threats on the front lines. 

“You mean because that J. Jonas Jameson really loves making fools out of mutants and supers?” he scoffed. He rested his shoulders against your chest. “That’s endearing. You know, I should retire. I love spending time with you when I don’t have to worry about aliens and monsters attacking our neighborhood.”

“You’d be a wreck without having some higher calling, babe, you know it.” You gently removed him. He sighed with disappointment. “Should I get the aloe mask out yet or do you want to go straight to the manicure first?”

Loki heaved a sigh. “The mask, preferably. I wasn’t done feeling your fingers in my hair.” His eyes glittered. You laughed. 

“You said you were going to cut it, didn’t you?”

“I changed my mind. I like fighting with a ponytail.” He grinned, sat up, then winced. “I feel stylish. With dashing Strange, I always feel one step behind. How can I impress you without copying his goatee?”

“I married you, not Strange,” you teased, bringing the mask over. “So there. My opinion matters most.” You kissed his lips and then set the mask over his face. 

“I am ever-so-grateful that you did.” He kissed back, not ready to let you go. “I like the thrill of aging. It makes my life feel more meaningful.”

You moved away, going into the next room where he could still see you. You prepped the necessary accessories to his pampering. “But we’re still together forever, right?”

“As long as you treat me like the king I am!” he joked.

You laughed harder at that. He melted at the sound — after so many years, he still loved it. “I would never think of such a thing. Now, I’m getting ointment for your burns, okay, babe?”

Loki sighed. “I really do love you…”

“Oh, I know. I had to rein you in the hard way, remember?”

“You hardly did any of the hard work. I wooed you,” he insisted. He scrunched his nose up. “I still have the memory of a god, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Thousands of years in your brain isn’t too reliable, honey.” You walked back with ointment and more fun things. You sat down beside him, gingerly taking his leg. You began to rub in the ointment while he threw his head back in pain briefly. “Maybe you should just believe me.” You smirked. 

“Why should I do that? You’ll make me sound like a damsel in distress.” He chuckled. “I do care about reputation.”

“I can change it in an instant.” You winked. 

“You tease!”

Tag List: Tag List: @make-me-imagine @bwemph @myraaaa17 @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @naterson @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery  @wrenhyperfixates  @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021  @lilyofthesword @xlehukax @electroma89 @joucebox @high-functioning-lokipath @lokislittlesigyn @funsized-mimi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @kingix-the-confused-earthling @moonchildmp3  @mayday-dinluke @moumouton4 @marvelouslovely-barnes @thewindandthewolves @theaudacitytowrite @lostgreekgod @lokistoriesblog @cosplayingwitch  @myriad501st  @wolfsmom1  @lowkis   @queenjosielaufeyson  @lokiprompts @vbecker10  @floweramongstthestars

#gaitwae writes #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki #mcu #marvel #loki odinson #asks #loki x y/n #send me asks!

[theonceoverthinker]

Orange Blood

Hi! So, after Chapter 23 of @silverstreams‘ “The Long Game,” I got inspired to write this little freestyle poem from Chell’s POV during one of the chapter’s most critical scenes. It’s pretty spoiler-y for Chapter 23, so if you haven’t...you know, go read it. Okay? I even linked it above for your convenience.

You’ve read it?

Good.

Enjoy!

-------

My sweater is dignity Not the only piece – the others in neat bundles and racks elsewhere Safe in what I used to feel was a space that may one day have been truly mine In this moment though it’s the one that matters After all, it’s the one drenched in orange blood

Forged from trials of fire, metal, wood, plasma My struggles, my victories, my losses An ocean of trauma that roars as it would on a choppy day They came together alongside a long-abandoned heap of fabric For their ultimate purpose – cloaking my warmth-starved body

And now it’s besmirched My dignity now stained the color of sunset But not a thing of beauty – a reinforcement of my pain What once represented trust and dignity Is now spoiled It gleams the shade of the abandoned remnants of my breakfast of yams I must be a sight to behold for you Tell me, because you oh-so love to talk Was breaking my trust not enough? Did you have to bludgeon not just the dead horse, but also its saddle So that any good I felt from riding it would dissipate into the air? The memories of the ride as lost as the saddle is butchered? And why did it have to be such a mis-matching shade? I thought by now, I’d taught you something about style

I hope you’re happy with yourself No No, I don’t Do you want to know what I actually hope? Did you even actually ever care to know me? Or were your attempts to learn just a stepping stone to get us here? It doesn’t matter, Until now, it did But no longer However, I’ll humor you with my hope Consider it a final from myself to you

I hope that the mere sight of orange now creates a synthetic sickness in you One that can match the organic one that will exist in me The sickness you’ve so graciously bestowed upon my psyche That will regularly show up in marmalade-dyed splatters dripping down my form Whether it be real or a phantom of the last day I thought change was possible And I hope you see a lot of orange going forward

You robbed me of my dignity Left my sense of self spilling blood The hemoglobin may be orange But my eyes see only red now

Your eyes and ears are only decoratively corporeal Fueled by bytes somewhere I can no longer see All the same, listen to me This imposed-upon fate will not stand My orange blood chucked at my dignity will dry in time With time, it may be as if it never existed But the iciness in my red blood won’t be done away with so easily

Feel my words as well as you’re able to feel anything No, feel them harder than that Feel them in a way that will stay in your circuits for as long as they function I am NEVER testing again

#portal #tlg #tlg spoilers #chell #glados #caroline

[solarishashernoseinabook]

trick or treat! requesting a treat, with will, halt, and their horses. perhaps they could be at/on the way to the gathering

Thank you!! Hope you like it ❤

'Are we much closer to the Gathering?'

Halt stifled a sigh. 'As a matter of fact, we are.'

Will's face brightened. 'Really?'

'Yes. We're five minutes farther along than we were the last time you asked.'

Will visibly deflated. 'Sorry, Halt.'

'And fifteen minutes farther along than we were the second-last time you asked.'

'Sorry, Halt.'

'And eighteen minutes farther along than we were the third-last time you asked.'

'Sorry, Halt.'

Halt had maybe five more minutes of blissful silence before Will spoke up again. 'It's just, well, this'll be my first proper Gathering. You know, after the first one I went to was cancelled right when we got there.'

'Yes, I know,' Halt said. Just when Will started to grin, Halt said, 'But that won't move the Gathering grounds any closer.'

Will eyed Halt for a moment, then Halt saw his gaze flicker to the grassland surrounding them. Will grinned and leaned forward, speaking in a stage whisper to Tug. 'Y'know, Tug, I think I've figured out why Halt's so much grumpier than usual. He's lost his edge.'

Halt looked back at Will, eyebrow raised, but Will just kept grinning. 'And not just him. Abelard, too. After spending a year travelling next to Horace on that lumbering beast he calls a battlehorse, I bet Abelard's feeling a little sorry for himself.'

Tug made a sound suspiciously like a snicker and Abelard snorted and tossed his head. I could run rings around that little colt he's riding.

'I have no doubt, Abelard,' Halt muttered. He straightened in the saddle. 'Well, Will, if you're so convinced me and Abelard have lost our edge, why don't you prove it?'

'Er, wait--' Will began.

'No, this looks like the perfect spot.' Halt drew Abelard to a stop and pointed to a lone, twisted tree rising from the grassland. 'That's our finish line.'

'Actually, we really need to be getting on to the Gathering--' Will went on.

'We have plenty of time. Besides, it'll be good for Tug to let loose a bit.'

Tug seemed to agree, happily trotting to join Abelard, and Will had little choice but to agree to Halt's demand. 'So, er, on three, then?'

'That is traditional, yes,' Halt said.

'Okay. One...Two...'

'Three,' Halt said, squeezing Abelard with his legs, and Abelard shot off the trail like an arrow fired from a bow. In seconds he was in full gallop, and Halt had flattened himself against his neck.

But Tug was a Ranger horse too, and was soon neck-and-neck with Abelard. Halt glanced over, and was pleased to see Will grinning broadly. The past year had been hard on him, but Will was still a boy, and the sheer joy of going so fast had clearly blown away any doubts he'd had about this race.

The tree was rapidly approaching and for just a moment Tug drew ahead. Will let out a premature cheer of triumph, but Halt felt Abelard's muscles bunch beneath him as his horse pulled out extra reserves of speed, soaring past the tree ahead of Tug.

With no one to possibly see him, Halt allowed himself a grin. Will wasn't the only one who enjoyed the excuse to ride such a fast horse, and for just a moment Halt was tempted to let Abelard keep going until he tired himself out. Common sense won out and he straightened in the saddle, reining Abelard in and drawing him in a wide circle so he could let off speed. He trotted over to Tug, who was slowly letting off speed as well, and leaned against the pommel of his saddle. 'Still think we've lost our edge?'

Will grinned and had the grace to look abashed. 'No. Sorry, Halt.'

'That's better.' Halt swung down from the saddle and took Abelard's reins. 'Let's walk a bit, the horses need to rest.'

Will dismounted and followed him back to the trail. Halt saw him look back at their starting position, and was just about to ask what he was thinking when Will spoke up again. 'We made a fair bit of distance during that race.'

'We did,' Halt said warily.

'I was just thinking--'

'You're an apprentice, you're not allowed to think.'

'I was just thinking,' Will went on stubbornly, with just a hint of a malicious gleam in his eye, 'that we've got to be closer to the Gathering grounds, right?'

Halt raised his eyes to heaven. 'You were such an agreeable young man before the Skandians got to you,' he said.

#ra #rangers apprentice #trick or treat fic fest 2k22 #halt o'carrick #will treaty

[addictwoapen]

then vs. now

there are two versions of my father that exist.

“you can do anything you set your mind to” dad. And “not all men” dad. 

as a child I was told it doesn’t matter what other people think or feel, I can do what I want. I can be an athlete, I can be smart, I can do whatever I want and fuck everyone that says otherwise. And while the sentiment was there, two things could not be true, or it didn’t feel like it could be anyway.

When I was a kid, I loved sports. I still do. I love playing sports and learning mechanics, and I have since forever. I was the boy my father never had with two older brothers who never quite learned how to throw a ball correctly. I remember being told I had a good arm in first grade, and how I was faster than the other boys at recess. I remember, even though it’s blurry now, thinking I could not be both a tom boy or a girly girl. How I had to choose if I wanted to wear pink or be good at sports. Even at the age of six I was aware that boys thought girls sucked simply because of my double X’s. I was aware that “boys rule” meant more than a harmless us vs. them type of pride. 

So I chose. I decided girly girls were dumb and insipid. I chose to be athletic and school-smart. I was praised and held to high standards. No Cs or you’re grounded, no tennis lessons unless I went to the gym. Because all that could be demanded of me was excellence. As a kid, I thought this was just strictness of my parents beliefs about education and hard work. As an adult, I’ve come to realize it stems from mom and dad’s insecurities. We are at the mercy of grandparents even when they’ve been gone for years. 

I hated the color pink from second grade on, and I still do to this day. I hated being called Barbie since I was the stereotypical blonde-haired-blue-eyed white girl. I hated that all I was allowed to be was pink. It felt like no matter which side I looked at, I was stuck in a box. I couldn’t be angry because it wasn’t ladylike, I received much more punishment for swearing as a teenager than my older brother did. It wasn’t until I was 20 in a Jewel Osco during Covid that I told my father to grow up and get over it. I was an adult and I would make my own decisions about the way that I spoke and behaved. 

It wasn’t until I was a bit older that I realized that girls and women had the capacity for so much more, but suffered with self-actualization and introspection much earlier than our male friends. 

When explaining the waves of feminism to my dad on a bike ride in 2021, he said “I don’t know anything about this waves of feminism shit” and I replied “must be nice”. He didn’t get it. 

The first version of my dad loved his daughter fiercely. I was daddy’s little girl who was a little spoiled but wasn’t a brat. We played catch together. We played HORSE together in the driveway where he spray painted basketball court lines for me on the ground to practice my free-throws in sixth grade. We went to the tennis courts to practice my serves in seventh grade. We traveled to Texas in college to watch me play at Nationals. He said I could do anything I put my mind to.

It wasn’t until I was an adult that he said “well...”. 

And there it was. 

The stipulation that he knew that the world would treat me different and that while it may be unfair-I had to adjust, and it shouldn’t be the other way around. When I talk of creepy men in the gym I had just started attending, it was “yeah but I don’t do that,” when I talk of 60+ year old men hitting on me and asking me out to drinks when I was 19 it was “that’s not that weird,”. It’s invalidation at it’s finest, and understanding that he will truly never get it. 

I often think of a memory. I was in elementary school. My dad and I often used to go on hikes together on the weekend in the forest preserves of the suburbs of Chicago. I couldn’t pinpoint my age but I wasn’t fully self-aware yet, so it was pre-fifth grade. He would say “no matter what anyone tells you, you can do anything you want, and it doesn’t matter that you’re a girl”. This was in reference to a woman we passed who was hiking on her own, and even at a young age, I was aware of the danger she could be in on a 5am hike in the middle of a forest with no houses for miles. I remember thinking as a young girl “why would I risk getting hurt?”. It was a memory I would come back to often throughout childhood, as I reminder that I could do anything. But as I approached adulthood, I sometimes revel in my father’s naivety. 

There are always stipulations.

As an adult, my dad still thinks I can do what I want, but if I have to work harder to fight prejudice because I am a woman, than that is what I must do. I shouldn’t cry about the injustice I have and inevitably will again face. I should suck it up and power through it. Because as a middle-age white man with a steady job, he has never faced discrimination or prejudice for things he can’t change about himself.

The latter version of my father makes no excuses for his behavior. He says “if you don’t like it, I don’t care”. Despite his secretly hidden desire to be seen, to be heard. He says he doesn’t care what others think, but I think he cares too much sometimes. We are the same in that regard, and it is terrifying. His lack of empathy towards others of different experiences is astounding when he raised a daughter that has an excess of it. His anger is often misplaced and rooted in toxic masculinity and the idea of a traditional family despite a certain lack of religious or traditional upbringing. 

There are two versions of my father that exist.

Naïve and Jaded.

#barbie #feminism #femalerage

[hazbincalifornia]

Mkay I don't think you're into Striker x Blitzø, at least I haven't seen any on here, but I think it would be so fucking funny if Blitzø ended up with Striker some time before Stella was born (or if Striker even just straight up replaced Stolas in the AU) because like... I can't imagine that Fizz would EVER get along with him. Purely because Striker is a super charming, two-faced, rugged gunslinger who is obviously super against the social hierarchy. He hates all things Royal/anything that directly censors or degrades his species, so Fizz (an imp celebrity who's sold as sex merch and disguises that he's an imp) and Asmodeus (Royalty, what else is there to be said) are both sort of out of his interest level. Everything that Fizz felt Blitzø was attracted to him for?? Petite frame, into pretty exercises like aerial arts, not into gross shit like blood? Striker is the exact fucking opposite, and some insecurities are coming up for it. Plus I feel like pirates and cowboys are all too fucking close together for Fizz tbh - now his very recent ex/baby momma is dating one and HIS KID IS COMING OVER AND TALKING ABOUT THE DAMN HORSE THE FUCKING COWBOY LET THEM RIDE (with assistance, obviously, Blitzø loves horses AND his baby being safe)

Admittedly, I have a bit of a petty grudge against Blitzker for how people started saying 'this is the healthy option for Blitz, Stolitz is so much worse!' about the guy who Is The Embodiment Of Toxic Masculinity (and did That to M+M, Moxxie especially) because their own ideal of it as something perfect was 'better' from the flaws present in canon for Stolitz, but I definitely think it's interesting, just in a 'they make each other worse' way and not as a permanent ship.

The idea of a fling before him and Stolas were serious could be fun, though, especially if Striker sweet-talked him and he's drawn in by the flattery since he's been feeling less attractive lately. He started IMP earlier in this AU with Stolas's help, so things could even go fairly similarly to canon, except Striker convinces big Stella to let him extend the hit a bit longer so he can make the 'little whore who Stolas spends too much time with' pay as a bonus. (Even though Blitzo did really well during the games, so he's actually pretty impressed by him- the respect is very much at least partially real.)

The guy seems to enjoy toying with his prey considering how he acted around Moxxie, and having a fling for a few weeks/a month or two has Blitzo excited because this awesome guy is giving him so much attention! He makes a few off-color comments about royalty, but it's not like it isn't understandable, and he's pretty good with Sunny and makes Blitzo really feel strong again as they tussle around since it's been a while since he has an 'equal'.

Fizz senses the Rancid Vibes the first time they video-chat (I'm assuming this is the 'relationship is open' phase) but Blitzo just brushes it off as him being jealous for pretty much all the reasons that you listed, and Fizz genuinely isn't sure if it is him being jealous or he's actually on to something after a while. (Striker casually calls him a 'literal cock-sucker' when Blitzo goes to help Sunny with something and Fizz is just 'You're literally dating a man???' 'Ah, but he's not a fancy royal birdie, now is he? Go run around and show your little glittery ass off, Fizzy.')

Sunny thinks he's kinda cool, but when he insults Stolas they bristle since Stolas has always been nice to them. In the end, Blitzo finds out about the hit and that ends things pretty abruptly, since even if they aren't dating yet, Stolas still matters a lot to him. It might even be the kick he needs to make that official.

#fitzo kid au #asks #anonymous #striker's just more interesting as a bad guy to me 🤷

[dnd-thrrasir]

Ishvi Snippets

More random Thrrasir NPC side-stories! This time, they aren't particularly plot relevant, just a few snippets of conversation I wrote between Ishvi and Wagner to better develop their dynamic and write more of Ishvi's personality. But you all might enjoy regardless! Mild content warning for some allusions to sex, racism, and dysphoria, though nothing graphic or extreme.

Seven years before the events of the campaign...

"...Is that a text about Dhorilian privateers in the late 2000s AC? Why in all the stars of Hef are you reading about pirates from three-thousand years ago?"

Ishvi jerked, their elbow knocking into a nearby inkwell and almost toppling it. Mentally they felt rather as if they'd been riding at a top speed gallop, only for the horse to careen around a bend and send them flying into the dirt. The mental whiplash was almost dazing, and for a moment they couldn't fully process what was even being said to them. 

Then, they saw a dark skinned hand leaning on the table just a little ways to their left, and looked up into the face of the thirteen-year-old Prince Wagner. A spike of annoyance made them grit their teeth, and they hissed, "I've told you not to bother me when I'm actually managing to concentrate for a change! Now I'll never get my head back on track!"

The young tiefling smiled apologetically, pointing towards a nearby window. "In my defense, it's ah… almost four in the morning? I woke up and saw you never made it back to the barracks and thought I should come get you before you forgot to get any sleep."

Befuddled, Ishvi followed the path of Wagner's pointed finger, and was surprised to see that the sky outside the holy library was black and spangled with stars, and the moon had very nearly set. Some of the radiant fury of being pulled down from the euphoric high that they felt on the rare occasion they actually managed to find a topic to catch and hold their interest faded, and they winced. 

"Shit… I lost track of the time again."

"Mm-hm," Wagner agreed, starting to collect some of the stack of books his friend had already read and discarded. "You're gonna be a mess tomorrow during training as it is, you ought to get at least a little sleep."

Ishvi sighed, raking a hand through their bangs and picking up the books as well. "Right. You're right. Ugh, what was I even doing in here in the first place? I feel like it definitely wasn't supposed to be a ten hour bender on the history of Dhorillean naval warfare…"

"Either you'll remember when the captain scolds you for not getting it done, or it won't matter too much," Wagner pointed out reasonably, with the casual aplomb that came from having witnessed both scenarios more than once. The twenty-three year old squire stuck their tongue out at the younger boy.

"Easy for you to say, asshole, you're not the one who's got a graduation assessment next week. My ordeal is already late- the last thing I want is another letter from Father about how I failed the assessment again."

Wagner tweaked the older man's nose. "Talking like you even read any of those letters. And nineteen is just the average age for the ordeal year- some take it younger, some don't pass until they're in their thirties."

"Perish the thought," Ishvi barked with an exaggerated shudder as they shoved the books into the return bin. "If you get promoted before I do, I will have something to say about it! You ollie off from training every few weeks for some other stupid dinner or party with the nobility!"

"You talk like you're not nobility," Wagner said, dumping his own armload and turning towards the exit. 

"I wish I wasn't," Ishvi mused, following their young friend out into the cool night air outside the library. "You may joke about my not reading Father's letters, but he makes it clear that with Mum's difficulties conceiving I'm all he's got. Soon as I pass my ordeal he's probably going to start badgering me to secure the line. Produce a grandchild he can name heir instead of me. Not that I'd mind being passed over, but you know how I feel about…"

The uncomfortable silence hung for a moment, and the thirteen year old tentatively offered, "Siring?"

"Nnng," Ishvi looked down uncomfortably. They'd had to explain a little under a year ago exactly how the mechanics of creating a child worked, seeing as no one in his family had seen fit to do it, which had of course led to equally frank discussions of how Ishvi felt on the matter. But talking about it ostensibly in public, even at this hour when no one was liable to be about, wasn't something Ishvi was fully comfortable with. They'd had one conversation with their parents, at fifteen, about the possibility of surgery, but the answer was one they really should've expected- they were fine with it, but only after Ishvi produced for the family at least one, preferably two heirs. 

They'd be in for a lecture on duty next time they saw their father if word got back that they were complaining about it. Even the Queen, who had taken a wife as her partner, had to lie with a man at least one time for the sake of duty, after all.

Shaking their head, they said, "But nevermind that- what were we talking about again?"

"You getting some sleep so you don't fall on your nose during training," Wagner reminded them with a raised brow. "Also you fretting about your assessment, but some sleep will be good for that too."

"Right. I uh, might have missed dinner too, do you-"

Wagner shook his head, but bless him, he seemed to have anticipated that too, because he pulled an apple out of his money pouch and offered it to his friend. "Over breakfast you'll have to tell me what you were reading that held your attention so long. But not right now- bed Ishvi."

"I'm going, I'm going," they said, picking up their pace towards the barracks to a trot.

_________

Shortly before the events of Eldritch Eulogy...

The two bed room was spacious as inns went, with about a man's height of space between each bed and everything carrying the telltale smell of having been freshly laundered. The blankets on the bed were made of some sort of animal fur, and a brief glance at the pillows confirmed they were stuffed with down, not hay.

"For as remote as this place is, the accommodations are quite nice," Ishvi mused, rocking on their heels as they looked about the room that had been letted to them.  Turning back to Wagner with a wry smirk, they added, "Which is good, if we're going to be here for a while."

The prince- currently disguised as a wood elf and going under the alias "Walker"- groaned with mock resignation. In his hands the younger man was holding an envelope that had been pressed upon them before they even got to the inn.

"As remote as it is, you would think that the sort of trouble they'd ask paladins to intervene in wouldn't bother with them," Wagner replied with a sigh. "Normally I'd be thrilled to have something actually productive to do, but-"

"But you can't wait to get to Alu Lyth, you're missing your sweetheart terribly, wax about it again, please," Ishvi interjected, sauntering over to the bed and running their fingers over the plush fur. "Duty calls, my friend, so your cuddles and kisses appointment will have to wait!"

They glanced over their shoulder, and were rewarded to catch Wagner sticking out his tongue at them. The moon elf laughed, waggling a finger admonishingly. "Now, now, is that any way for someone of your stature to behave?"

"My stature? I have no notion what you mean," Wagner replied, turning away to open the envelope. "I am just a paladin, same as you. An inferior, magic-less paladin even."

Ishvi glanced over Wagner's shoulder at the note, but they could immediately see that the effort was fruitless- as had been the case with most everything else in this town, it was in Draconic, which Ishvi did not speak. With a shrug, they left their young friend to it.

They had been speaking in Elvish- the language that both they and Wagner were most fluent in, the language of both their childhoods. They also shared a fluency in common that was required of nobles, and Ishvi had tried to pick up both Goblin and Gnomish. As was often the case, however, their lack of patience for intense study had kept them from getting more than a few gloss words and phrases of either. Wagner, on the other hand, was a proper omniglot. On top of the aforementioned Elvish and Common, he was fluent in Gnomish, Goblin, Halfling, and thanks to his status as a tiefling, Infernal. He was further conversational in Dwarvish, and Draconic.

No Undercommon, which might have surprised anyone who knew the boy's heritage, but this was at the direct pressure of the rest of the Elvish nobles. They already didn't like that their prince and princess were half tiefling, half drow. They absolutely balked at the prince sullying his tongue on Undercommon when most drow he would need to talk to for diplomatic reasons would understand Elvish.

Nevermind the duergar or the svirfneblin. Or the various non-native races who live down there and will speak Undercommon by proximity. They thought sarcastically. The drow are bug-eyed cave rats but at least they're proper elves. The rest? Pah!

Ishvi gave a soft snort of derision, making Wagner look up from the paper in his hand and quirk a brow. "A copper for your thoughts?"

"Just insulting our dear, divinely appointed overlords in my imagination again, don't mind me," Ishvi replied with a shrug and a crooked grin. They caught themselves petting the blanket again, and folded their arms, turning back to face Wagner. "So what's the letter say?"

Wagner's expression was one of bemused understanding, but he took the change of subject with good grace. "The clan's Rimem- their chief- wants us to look into some strange creatures that have started to infest the woods around here, as well as a string of disappearances."

"I don't like that those two things are happening at the same time," Ishvi said grimly. "Implies one might be causing the other. But are monsters killing people, or might it be some sort of lycanthropy thing?"

"Impossible to say without more information," the prince pointed out. "Which means it's time for your favorite- questioning the locals."

"Aaaah, but I don't share any languages with the locals," Ishvi fired back. "So I am literally incapable of playing the face. And I won't even be able to understand when they needle you about the fact that I'm standing behind you and fidgeting like a bored three-year-old. Such a shame."

Wagner scowled a bit. "As if I wouldn't make it clear I won't stand for it if they do."

Ishvi shrugged with far more dismissiveness than they actually felt. "Come on, hero, it's late and we're both tired. Let's get some dinner in us, and figure out what our plan of attack is for tomorrow morning."

#d&d #dungeons and dragons #Ishvi #Wagner #text post

[ktglij]

When I decided I wouldn’t be like my mother, I didn’t know how far away from that idea I was going to land. I think maybe I made that decision later in life, before my teenage years, and during all her mistreatment. But it seems I was already decided when I chose her. They saw we choose our mothers before they even create us. That up in heaven or down in the middle of nothing, our soul has the capacity to choose. Supposedly, we do it because we need to learn the lessons that will take us to paradise. I don’t know what lesson I should be learning now, or what lesson the torment of my relationship with her will lead me to peace, but maybe I chose wrong. Maybe my soul was sleepy or cranky that day. Or maybe there was only one lady having sex unprotected with an asshole and I didn’t have another choice in the matter. But i did decide, once I got to know her, that even though I chose her as a mother, I would not choose to be like her.

My mother was a cheerleader. She was also a model, and very popular in her school. She had many boyfriends, and other boys in like to be one of the many. Even recently, getting into a taxi, a middle aged man asked me about the house I just came out of, and about her. He didn’t want to believe I was her oldest daughter. He said she was so beautiful, so enchanting. I could’ve never come from her entrails. A flower only has flowers, I guess. It’s weird to see a weed in a well-kept garden. His

And I wasn’t even alive when these things were happening, but I know that deep down wherever I was, I was jealous. I’ve always been jealous, envious. Jealous of her trim figure, her hips, her Pom poms and long hair, her boyfriends that kiss her and make love to her. Being in her body during those years must’ve been amazing. I watch her last like a rollercoaster where everyone screams, but I can’t get in to understand if the screams are excitement or fear. But whatever she felt, it was feeling. It was life, it was pure desire and drive. I never had that. I can’t remember not even one instance of my life where my body felt light and my mind felt alive. I’ve always been dead. I might as well still be stuck in purgatory, before I chose her, after I chose her.

My mother always chose. And while her life was far from perfect, when it came to others, she would be the voz cantante. She directed everyone like a marching band. Even when people went left on her, she continued on. She stands like a mountain, impressive and hardheaded. And she knows this about herself. She sees herself like a superhero, like a horse riding through lightning, a free soul, beauty that devours. How easy it is for her. I am also jealous of that. I can’t see myself in a mirror without feeling pity. I can’t even look down at my feet without my mouth twisting in disgust. Everything seems loathsome and evil. Like made by the actual devil as a joke. A doodle on a black journal, no reason and no end, silent and stuck.

I most remember being silent and stuck in this life. There have been many which I can’t remember, I’m sure, but this one has been the worst. And while I don’t remember much, I only remember the worst. Minds sometimes work this way to curse, I think. Brains having a life of their own, and being abusive. If you have mental illness, maybe your brain does too, and suffers, inside your head, and only pleads you for death, and you yourself hear that and pleas for your own. Twins inside each other, like swallowing your sister in the womb.

I think the worst happened under that blue tarp. The one that covered my rusting swing set. I don’t remembered why I followed her orders. Maybe she barked at me. That day, I didn’t like her. I was embarrassed. It was uncomfortable, laying on the concrete. I don’t remember, but I think I could see the slide over my head. While most kids used a swing set to play, she used it to use me.

She was over me. I don’t remember what she did, but I know that when my grandmother came to check on us, she scurried to my side and made me sit up. I remember my grandmothers eyes, full of pure hate. Still, I think, it seemed like she knew what Carla was doing to me. It hurts me to think she did. But she would’ve never let it continue if she did, right? The question buzzes in my head, like a hornet jammed in a motor. Always there, still stranded, still trying. Just like that hornet, I was also trapped in a jungle of aluminum. I wonder if the designers and the people who created that children’s swing could see what would happen to me there, would they cry? I wonder if my mom would cry, knowing she bough that swing for me. All the money spent on that metal monstrosity seems very badly wasted now, that we know Carla had other plans for it.

The smell stayed with me, though. I can still smell that tarp. The humid grass after the rain, the little gray concrete rocks that left minuscule craters on my back, the terra-cotta color that would rub on me from the rust. The sex, I can’t remember, though. I don’t think Carla does, either. Silly how the most heavy memories, the memories that carry so much, that write my present and future, memories that formed me and all my defects and thoughts, won’t be remembered by those who inflicted them on me. Maybe it’s better I don’t remember the sex.

She called it sex, but I don’t believe it was. It was never sex for me. That’s just the only word I understood it by. I had the definition, she gave me the vocabulary. She opened my legs, got on me, and told me what it was. I let it happen. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe I fought. But knowing me, I let it happen. I only want to believe I fought. I would’ve fought now. Everyone else would’ve fought. I just laid there, already forgetting.

She kissed me a lot, I think. Not only underneath the blue tarp or the slide, but in a lot of places. In front of cars waiting for the green light, too. Next to the black and violet plants. She told me, they are called Vergüenzas. Embarrassments. Make sense, how even nature knew it was wrong. At least in the vergüenzas I had an ally. But what could they do, their roots deep-seated, stopping them from action. The one I remember the most is the one I fear now the most. I fear tasting the same way I did when she was teaching me to kiss.

I try to be strong, and ignore it. I know, in my objectivity, that nacho cheese chips are just a snack. But when in my mouth, it changes. It seems too funny to write. Or say to anyone, even a psychologist. The thing that brings me back to the abuse is nacho cheese. But when Carla asked me to come closer to the chain-link fence, and out her mouth on mine, that’s what she tasted like. I cringe as I remember. I felt it was enough to gag, pieces of chip in my mouth. Her teeth must’ve been coated with it. There I was, scared, nauseous, five years old and feeling an embarrassment that no adult should feel. I often think about god when I think about nacho cheese. I think about him looking at us and knowing that will happen, and knowing for the rest of all seasons of my life I will remember that taste in my mouth. I also wonder why he let it happen. There is no reason, no plan. It’s just rape and nacho cheese. There is nothing born from that, no hope flowering from any of those two things, nothing. Just the reality of the past and the fact and fear.

That did not happen to me. I never found a voice. Even though the voice of my body is rough and loud, I never knew to use it. And because of that, other made choices for me instead. Maybe that’s why I got my mom.

After finally hearing of my abuse through my sisters during a very hard day, my mom started thinking of possible abusers. Who was it? She would then spend a couple of days -exactly two, I think- asking me if it was the old man from the bakery or my own stepfather. My stepdad was obviously not the person, but still her thinking about even people she loved as capable was very nice. That proved to me she believed me. She then mentioned a woman. The only woman she had mentioned. “Was it that woman?” she asked. I froze. I asked which one and she clarified it was the nurse from the hospital. Once that I had pain that seemed to be from my —- i was driven to the hospital and gifted Paul, my pink teddy bear. There was a bitch nurse that came into the room a couple of times. My mom must have noticed how bright my eyes got, and how much conversation we had together, so much that it seemed to have been possible this woman was secretly touching me. The truth was, I was always aware I wasn’t straight. I first kissed a little girl on recess in first grade and later I would masturbate to sexy ads on science magazines that I begged for every month. So at that teenage age I already knew that this masculine nurse and I had something in common. So no, it wasn’t the nurse. I just saw someone that wasn’t normally in my world out in the real world and I felt validation. We use that word a lot nowadays, but that nurse validated to me a lot of feelings, and I imagine she knew this fat, emo teenager would also be like her in the future. That was the only woman my mom ever guessed, until she actually guessed right. I’ve denied every other name, so I denied ‘Karla’ too. I almost wasn’t shaking to hear her name.

I know Karla must have a complete life by now. I think in passing years ago, I heard she has her own children and lived on a street right in front of us. Her own mother showed up at my grandmother’s house to give her ——- after my grandfathers death. I valiantly walked out to see an older woman talking to my grandmother animatedly. She mentioned some facts. I wasn’t able to hear anything more. After hearing Karla had children, I felt guilt.

Guilt was a normal feeling when thinking about my abuse, but after hearing she had kids in the house, my guilt amplified. I could see her doing to them the same she did to me. Just because she was a mother, did not mean she couldn’t abuse more children, or her own. It was actually more of a possibility that she was doing it. Day and night that thought rolled around in my brain scrambling like eggs. I felt I was to blame. I never reported her. I never spoke out. And because of my silence, she lived a full life and now is able to abuse her own. I have her the freedom to do that. I had heard there was free sessions of teraphy to students of my university. I made an appointment and went. I didn’t know what therapy was like. I thought that if I made allegations that means that someone could look into it. But I didn’t have enough information. I didn’t know her last name, address, age, phone number. Nothing. My therapist for the day told me she was sorry and to join a gym. Because being skinny and “thinking about other things” cure PTSD, duh.

[dalleyan]

Elfwine Chronicles (new LoTR story, ch 2, Second Thoughts posted, 7-6-22)

A rude comment drives a wedge between Prince Elfwine of Rohan and Princess Dariel of Gondor. Can the damage be undone?  (7 chapter story.  Angst and fluff.)

 Second Thoughts

 Chapter 2

Edoras was nothing like Dariel had envisioned it, and she found herself trying to take everything in at once.  It was very different than Minas Tirith, that was certain.  Emblems of horses were everywhere, and seemingly on everything. The people appeared to be simple and honest and, though at first she thought of them as peasants, she began to see they had a quiet dignity about them and it humbled her.

She was surprised when Eldarion rode up alongside her.  He had spent most of his time with Elfwine or the men during the trip.  He noticed her curious look and explained, “Elfwine and the men had to ride on ahead and prepare to receive us.”  He was quiet a moment, then asked, “So, how does it go with Elfwine?  Has he forgiven you yet?”

“I cannot be sure. Sometimes I think he has and sometimes I am not at all certain about it.  And I truly wish Mother and Father would say something to me about it and get it over with.  I cannot believe they do not know about what I said and will not punish me.”

“Or perhaps they feel you are grown enough to correct your own mistakes.  Maybe they have seen you seeking to make amends and are trusting you to continue to do so until the matter is resolved.”

She blinked at him in surprise.  The thought had never occurred to her that her parents might be allowing her to rectify this mistake instead of forcing her into it.  At once, she felt a flood of pleasure and pride that they might do so. She did not want to disappoint them. Eldarion noted the brighter smile on her face and concealed his own grin.  He didn’t mention to her that he had suggested this course of action to his parents, making them aware how remorseful she was at having hurt Elfwine with her remarks.

A few moments later, they reached the bottom of the steps up to Meduseld.  Though far less grand than the stone halls of the Citadel at Minas Tirith, the Golden Hall was unmistakably stately in its own way. Dariel found it a bit startling to climb the steps toward the royal family at the top.  Elfwine stood with his parents, mimicing his father’s stance. She had known he was the Prince of Rohan and heir to the throne, but somehow not until she saw him thus did it really sink in.  She supposed it was similar to never thinking of her brother in that way either.  He was just her brother, and Elfwine was just Elfwine, a boy from Rohan.

Her parents and Elfwine’s went through some formal rigamarole that she always found boring, so she let her gaze wander about her.  The view from Meduseld’s terrace was breathtaking.  All of Rohan was spread below, and her eyes swept over it while the wind whipped her hair about her face.  Suddenly she was aware of someone in front of her and realized she had not been paying attention.  Elfwine had his arm extended to her and was looking at her questioningly. Apparently, he was escorting her somewhere and she had failed to notice.  Blushing slightly, she ducked her head and took his arm, allowing him to lead her wherever they were headed.

He ushered her into a long hall that obviously was the main throne hall of Meduseld.  There was a large hearth in the center, and there were tall wooden columns and numerous tapestries. She did not recognize any of the stories that seemed to be depicted in them, but again everything appeared to involve horses in some fashion.

They followed her parents out into a corridor that ran adjacent to the main hall and walked for some distance to the living quarters.  Her parents were shown into one room and Elfwine opened a door for her on the one next to it.  “I hope you will be comfortable here, my lady.  I will send a servant to check on you shortly and find out if there is anything you need.”

She nodded silently, caught off-guard by his formality.  He bowed and left, closing the door behind him, and she went to be seated on the bed. Everything in the room was carved with horses, and animal skins covered the floor.  It was a simple room, but struck her as very snug.  Too often rooms in Minas Tirith were cold and stark.

A knock sounded at the door and she opened it to find servants with her belongings.  They carried them in and departed, one girl remaining.  “Shall I put your things away for you, my lady?” 

She nodded shyly.  The girl seemed little older than she, and it was strange to see her working at so young an age.

“My name is Tamwen, my lady. I will be assisting you while you are here.  Anything you need, just ask me,” the girl chattered, as she opened trunks and tucked things in drawers and the wardrobe. 

 continue reading on AO3:

              https://archiveofourown.org/works/40031700/chapters/100504980#workskin

#Eomer #Lothiriel #Elfwine #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Elfwine Chronicles #Dariel #Eldarion