#me if i ever met owen wilson

[mobius-m-mobius]

Lokius in Loki 2x03 - "1893"

#mobius #loki #lokius #mcuedit #lokiedit #marveledit #loki spoilers #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #god they really said we're gonna be glued to the hip and MEANT IT hello 😳👀 #something's definitely coming bc i've never won for this long in my life but i'll take every second they want to give us 😅 #btw kind of obsessed with them both having the same haters and ravonna being the og?? #you're either on board or they're the most insufferable duo you ever met wreck your plans that's my man lol #one particular coloring (clearly) almost killed me dead but i did it for you tandem bike scene of all time 😭😭 #loki s2 spoilers #marvel #owenwilsonedit #dianagifs

[ghostwnby]

Marley & Me

Summary: Sebastian bets he won't cry during the movie 'Marley & Me.' Spoiler alert: He fails.

Authors note: Oh my god. Here it is. After almost 5 years of no writing, my first official fic 🥺 and it's an f1 fic who would've thought 😭😭 but fr I would like to thank @forza-lh44 for lovely request of a Sewis movie night 🤭 ur amazing my beautiful mutual 🥰❤️

Warnings: None. Just fluffiness and Sebastian being a soft hearted baby like always.

“ ‘Marley & Me’? Really?” Lewis asked, raising an eyebrow at his husband. “You realize this is going to make you sob, right?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to sob.”

Lewis gave him an unimpressed look. “Baby, I mean this in the best way possible but you are one of the biggest cry babies I have ever met. You tear up every time that one Sarah McLachlan commercial comes on.”

“Oh come on, that doesn’t count!” Sebastian protested, crossing his arms with a pout, “Everyone tears up when they see those poor pups locked up like that. I’m not a monster.”

Lewis chuckles softly and shakes his head, “Mhm. Right.”

“Fine. Why don’t we make a bet?”

“A bet?”

“Yes. A bet.” Sebastian confirms, “ I bet I can make it through the entirety of ‘Marley & Me’ without shedding a single tear.”

Lewis can already see how this is going to end so, being the nice partner he is, he decides to amuse him.

“Okay, what are the stakes?” He asks, turning his body towards his husband. “What do I get if I win?”

Sebastian smirks, “If you win, I’ll cook whatever you want for dinner for an entire month. But! If I win, you have to do all of our laundry for the rest of the month. And that includes my bee suit.”

“You mean your shirt that says ‘It’s a bee-autiful day to save the bees!’ and your raggedy, borderline offensive, basketball shorts that you always wear with it?”

Sebastian scoffs, “Hey, just because I have a better fashion sense than you doesn’t mean you can be hateful.”

Lewis grins at him, “Oh you are so right. I’m sorry.”

“So do we have a deal?” Sebastian asks, leaning closer to the man next to him. “Or are you scared of the sheer amount of laundry you are going to have to fold after your dear husband proves you wrong by showing you how much of a man he is by not crying over a silly little movie like ‘Marley & Me’?”

“Oh, so you want to play like that? Alright, fine. It’s a deal. But don’t come whining to me when you need help figuring out how long you should press tofu for after you lose.” Lewis challenged, chuckling at the mental image of his poor husband getting lost in the pages of one of his vegan cookbooks.

Sebastian shook his head and huffed, “I would never.”

“Mhm.”

And with that, Lewis grabbed the remote from the coffee table in front of him and pressed play.

Game on.

—

Lewis felt his chest tighten as he watched as a teary-eyed Owen Wilson slowly bury his beloved friend on the screen in front of him.

Damn you Owen Wilson. He thought to himself as he leaned over to rest his head against Sebastian’s shoulder. But just as he was getting comfortable he felt…shaking? Lewis glanced up at the man above him. His face was wet.

Tears were streaming down his face.

He was crying.

No. He was sobbing.

“Aha! I knew you would cry!” Lewis exclaimed, straightening up to face his husband.

Sebastian’s hands immediately flew to his face to wipe his tears away. “No! No, I’m not...I just have something in my eye.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, “Uh huh. And that’s why your nose is running.” Sebastian sniffled as a deep pout set heavy on his lips. “It’s just so sad. They literally went through everything together and he just had to die in the end.” He explained, “Why couldn’t they have just given us a happy ending like Marmaduke or something?”

Lewis chuckled as he watched a fresh wave of tears stream down his poor husband’s face.

His heart clenched at the look of Sebastian’s red splotchy cheeks. “Oh, baby.” Lewis cupped his face in his hands, softly wiping away his tears. “It’s okay. It’s just a movie, I can guarantee the dog is perfectly fine now.” He soothed, softly kissing the bridge of Sebastian’s nose.

Sebastian glanced up at Lewis, his eyes tinted pink from tears. Lewis couldn’t resist leaning in and placing a soft peck on the tip of his nose.

Then his lips.

Then his cheeks.

Then all over his face until Sebastian was reduced to a bundle of giggles trying to break free from his husband’s grasp.

“Okay! Okay! I’ve stopped crying!” Sebastian laughed, finally pulling away from the man in front of him. “Your magical tears cured every ounce of sadness in my body that was caused by that god-awful movie.”

Lewis smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

.

.

.

.

.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

#AHHHH I DID IT I WROTE SOMETHING #im so surprised i was actually able to finish it #also i mean for this to be 150-350 words and its over 750... #eh its fine its for Sewis <3 #formula 1 #ferrari #mercedes #lewis hamilton #sebastian vettel #red bull f1 #sewis #ghostwnby writes

[princepondincherry]

Why Science/Fiction (S2E5) is my favorite episode of the Loki show

Fanservice.

Okay, but seriously, I am the fan that this episode was servicing. It had so many tropes i like in time travel stories. It was almost like one of my favorite time travel AU fanfics, but with big budget CGI and good actors.

Spoilers (but mostly me gushing about what I liked about it) under the cut

No joke, I think that was my favorite depiction of Caltech in any media I’ve seen. I buy Ouroboros as a professor of theoretical physics at Caltech, 100%. He’s outstandingly good at science/engineering! He can do a mix of theoretical and practical research and also loves sci-fi. He’s deeply weird.

Even the “stayed in the basement for decades working” fits—it was a running gag that the electrical engineers lived in the sub-basement of their building because they’d disappear from social life for ages and sometimes slept there.

Also, like, props to his actor (Ke Huy Quan). There was a deeply emotional sequence between him and Tom Hiddleston, and they had me convinced that was an incredibly meaningful relationship for Loki even though they literally just met this season.

Also also I love the trope of “of course I believe you. I’m going to do everything in my power to help you out even though this whole thing is objectively insane.” Actually, thinking about it more, this totally matches his established personality from the first episode, when he immediately agreed to help Loki and Mobius.

I also love the “getting the band back together after a memory wipe or time shenanigans” trope, and the “time travel means I’ve created the means of my own salvation (the TVA guidebook)” trope.

And that's not even getting into how entertaining and a little tragic Owen Wilson's portrayal of Mobius as a normal guy was. They really sold me on the idea that Mobius is a better existence for him--he seemed fine in his "real life", but being in the TVA was something of a calling for him.

Question: Did we ever find out why Loki was time-slipping in the first place, or did they just accept it as something weird and fix it?

Second question: In the opening scenes, didn’t it kinda look like the temporal loom was working and successfully stitching the timelines together?

Crack theory: maybe that's what was happening to the branched timelines. Maybe the contingency that was activated at the start was the "forcibly knit everything together, destroying all the other timelines and start over" contingency, or something like that.

#loki series #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #mobius #ouroboros #caltech

[owen-wilson-appreciation-club]

Hello good folks. A (lengthy) update from me:

It does not take a genius to recognize that I have not been super active on this website. Almost no original posts, and mainly reblogs from my girl @wilsonbrothersupdates (love u bestie I log on just to chat with you)

I’ll be transparent. The Owen phase is dwindling. Not sure if the Loki show is gonna revive that, I will be watching for him and for him only (I am done with the MCU if I’m honest. That’s a discussion for another day but I’m here for Owen and Owen alone).

I am not deleting this blog. Like with many things, the phase may return full force, it may not. But I have so many positive memories associated with this community, this blog, and the people within it that I can’t get rid of it. But I think it’s fair for me to acknowledge that I’m distancing away from it.

I feel like I knew the end was coming, but it came without me noticing, and I’ve embraced that. Things happen. I watched my beloved Deadly Seven Owen Mutuals change their themes and their blogs to better represent their current interests. I could never do the same because this blog is solely for Owen, but it definitely reflects on my main account.

I will still forever be a fan of Owen. I’ll forever be a fan of Luke. I’ll forever cherish the crazy shit this blog brought me, from misinformation campaigns to inside jokes about the damn hole (seriously, what even was that? Makes me laugh even now)

If anything, I leave this blog up as an archive. Notoriously I am bad at tagging, but certain things on here can be found under tags like “hall of fame” and “thanks for sending!” as well as the usual thirst.

I’m not fully abandoning it. But I am acknowledging that I have pretty much closed up this chapter of my life. I’ll continue to reblog and post if something truly amazing happens, maybe the crew all comes together for inevitable Lokius (I am delusional. I still believe there is a chance.). I will also return if Hiddlewow reunites post strike. (Please give actors your support! Support SAG-AFTRA!!!)

I am not the same person I was when I started this blog over two years ago (Yes, it’s been that long). I’ve found joy in other aspects of my life, and I realize that there’s more to my own happiness than a 53 year old man with a funky nose.

This will forever be a part of me, for better or for worse, and I’m not forgetting the fun things that happened during the peak of this era. It’s tough for me to write this, to acknowledge that I haven’t been a very good leader of the Owen Wilson Appreciation Club. And while I refuse to give up that title, I will admit it’s been slow on my end.

I hope you all continue to watch Owen’s work, to support him in whatever fashion. I know I certainly will be. And while we won’t be as insane as before, there will always be that little part that keeps me here.

So yeah. If I stop posting, if I stop reblogging, know I’m okay. Know I’m happy and have found peace somewhere else. Know I love you all so much, and appreciate all the joy I’ve gotten over the years. The support has been immense, the interactions hilarious and memorable. I’ve met some incredible people on here (my discord people, you have my heart forever) I’ll leave the ask box open. I don’t expect anything to come in, but it’s there if you ever need to talk. Same with my DM’s.

I may come back full force someday. I hope to see you there. If not, take care. Thanks for everything.

All my love,

Sarah ❤️ (Forever your leader of the Owen Wilson Appreciation Club)

#owen wilson #for my mutuals who still care #a lil letter from me to you #the discord is still open for those of you who have it #chat with me! I miss you #can you tell I listened to All Too Well writing this? #I feel like the last man surrendering :(

[sleepydelights]

7: Have tattoos?

8: Want any tattoos?

12: Relationship status

13: Biggest turn ons

14: Biggest turn offs

15: Favorite movie

16: I’ll love you if

25: My idea of a perfect date

27: A description of the girl/boy I like

34: What I find attractive in women

35: What I find attractive in men

36: Where I would like to live

oop i didn't think it was so many sorry

Wow! Don’t be sorry nonnie I’m happy for the attention and distraction from packing ^.^

7. Yes, but they’re all simple, black, and family related. I’m itching to get a number of new ones though.

8. Haha yes, I want a beetle in the crook of my arm so when I open and close my arm, the elytra open revealing the wings beneath. I want a 747 wingtip to wingtip, elbow to pinky. I have a number of finger tattoos I want; bone outline on the back of one hand. I want my entire left leg to be beautiful vibrant flowers, each representing an important person to me. There are so many more tbh but that’s a start.

12. I am married and poly. I’m not actively seeking, but then that’s never been my style. My wife landed in my lap 10 years ago by luck. I tend to deal in extremes so if I’m honest I never dated much at all. Just pined.

13. Biggest turn ons? It’s hard to rank them because they all have different effects but I guess decisiveness, intention, and calmness.

14. Turnoffs? Gah it’s so situational and I never know when something is going to give me the ick. I think willful ignorance is number one. Like if someone sends a message with my pinned word but the message contains unsolicited sexy roleplay, I’m immediately squicked. Like brother (it’s always men in my experience) you read it but did you -read- it? That’s a lame example but yeah ignorance and boundary pressing behavior.

15. Favorite movie. I get so much shit for this all the time but it’s Armageddon. Bruce Willis was in his peak imho in 97 for The Fifth Element and in 98 for Armageddon. It’s a stellar fucking cast- Steve Buscemi, Liv Tyler, Michael Clarke Duncan,Billy Bob Thornton, and there’s also Ben Affleck and Owen Wilson. Yes. I know. It’s a Michael Bay film but I feel like it gets a pass because it’s pre-Transformers. It’s so bad it’s good again, from hysterically bad dialogue to criminally incorrect representations of vacuum physics, all to the fucking tune of Aerosmith. Fun fact - NASA uses (or used) Armageddon for management trainees, tasking them to spot as many errors as possible and so far 168 have been noted. Let’s not forget the bonus dvd features interviewing Ben Affleck who essentially laughs his way through every plot hole for five minutes. Suspend your disbelief of any of it making logical sense in a real world environment and it’s a fantastic film and I will die on this hill to the tune of I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.

16. I’ll love you if you… think of me fondly.

25. My idea of a perfect date? April 25th. It’s not too hot and not too cold. All you need is light jacket. ^.^ But for real? Probably going for tapas and drinks, maybe a show. Then we come back and get comfy because fuck being out too long and we snuggle and talk and let things go where they may.

27. A description of a person I like. She has the most vibrant brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Black as night sometimes but sometimes they are a rich amber or even chocolate with hints of sienna. Her skin is so soft and inviting. Her hands are soft but strong. She’s taller than me which is nice because sometimes I need to feel small. She’s a talented writer and she’s funny and smart but not a know it all. She does know it all though. About everything. She has a thirst for knowledge that rivals no one else I’ve met. Some of it might be useless knowledge but fuck if she doesn’t retain it like she does cables and puns. I like her a lot.

34. What I find attractive in women? The list of what I don’t find attractive in women would be much shorter. I have been obsessed with the female form for as long as I can remember. I was always embarrassed about it but here it’s okay and welcome to openly worship women and I love that for me.

35. What I find attractive in men? I don’t find many men attractive and the ones I do? They don’t have many physical attributes in common. It’s about how they make me feel. I can’t stand a man who yells. I do appreciate some hair and a squishy tummy and big hands though.

36. Where I would like to live? It’s between California and Barcelona right now. California for friends mostly. Barcelona to escape the political fuckery of this hellscape country. I don’t feel like my family is safe here anymore.

Thanks for all the questions! I really need to pack my tech bag and go to bed soon though. My Lyft will be here in 7 hours. 🫣

#asked and answered #thank you!

[monsterhighalumni]

natm 4 thoughts/reaction

late to the game but you already know [major spoilers ahead]

i love how feral they allowed every character to get in this movie (ESPECIALLY sacajawea), them working together to gaslight gatekeep girlboss the night guards into leaving was (chef's kiss)

also love how this canon basically completely ignores the (terrible) ending of natm 3, love that larry's still involved with the museum, amazing, perfect, no notes

unpopular opinion, i love that nicky's a lil dweeb full of anxiety now. that feels more like the natural progression of his character than becoming a kind of jerk-y frat bro. OG!nicky doesn't make his own mixes and pre-records his sets, NATM4!nicky is a music nerd, loves vaporwave, and accidentally reinvents electro-swing. slay king

[sees the bisexual flag on nicky's notebook] [sonic voice] woah he's bisexual! i didn't know that!

larry is like. such a good dad here. good for him, he's much more supportive than he would've been in the originals. OG!larry probably would've insisted on shadowing him the first night and stood like two feet away making comments about how nicky should be doing things the whole night lmao i love him but this is true

I'M SO GLAD THAT THE EXHIBITS BRING UP THAT NICKY IS LIKE FAMILY AND WAS PRACTICALLY RAISED IN THE MUSEUM cause in the 3rd film nicky just. doesn't seem to care about them that much that boy just wants to LEAVE

i love joan i don't even care that much that she was shoehorned in, she's a lil unhinged and a badass and FINALLY wea has another female friend

BUT WHY DOES SHE LOOK LIKE TAYLOR SWIFT SKREEEEE

laa die challenge. should've been eaten by the crocodile.

it would've been so cool and amazing to explore the basement and the archives and the idea that it's the "deep ocean", dark, fucked-up part of the museum is amazing. but it's also funny that they were just. fucking with nicky jfghfjh

"KAMENRAH THE DISAPPOINTING SON" KDJFGHDKFHJGLKGDFHB

kamenrah thinking nicky was larry giving big "rose quartz steven universe" vibes but also would've been funnier if he then proceeded to call him "nicky daley from daley devices" as a callback to natm 2

i feel like it diminishes the impact of not ahk not seeing his parents for 60+ years that sentient images of his dad, merenhakre are just. everywhere.

speaking of which, i don't even need to say it. everyone's already said it. ahk should've been in this movie and we all know it, but also he wasn't even acknowledged and no one bring him up?? not even kamenrah?? this makes me feel like there's a copyright or licensing issue going on here or SOMETHING cause damn

seth die challenge. stupid little jackal man

the epic highs (using the tablet like a musical instruments to unlock a tomb and playing the squares like chords) and lows (TIME TRAVEL WE'RE REALLY DOING THIS NOW HUH) of the tablet's canonical magic

hnnnnnnn i really dislike the time travel

i think my biggest problem with natm 4 is that the best part of the original movies was getting to explore the museums and meet all the fun new historical characters and the adventures were constrained by the environment therefore THEY SHOULD'VE STAYED AT THE MET

although it is SUPREMELY funny that not only do the met egyptian mummies know of kamenrah, they just decide to fuck off from the narrative cause they just don't want to deal with him JFKDHG

everyone is complaining about teddy's characterization idk man i actually thought that his main bit was pretty funny. of course he just talks about himself, he's mr. the museum

didn't love jed though maybe it was the new VA trying to sound like owen wilson, maybe he felt dumbed down, but the jedtavius moments were very good like everyone said they were

you ever see a couple so married and so divorced at the same time, i love them

overall i'm not mad with the new designs, i think they capture the energy of the original and cartoonify them well — the fight scenes were animated well too, i love that it was 2D and it was charming without FEELING explicitly low budget

yeah yeah i feel similarly that i didn't love the rehash of natm 2, the door, the summoning the minions of the underworld, etc — if it were up to me the movie's main conflict should've been kamenrah versus all the OTHER egyptian pharaohs and mummies at the met vying for power

BUT!!! IT ENDED WITH A DANCE PARTY!!! THAT'S ALL I CARE ABOUT THAT'S WHAT I WAS HOPING FOR AND IT HAPPENED!!!!!!

overall it was cute and fun and i hope it converts into a tv series and also tumblr is way too mad about it for what it is. 6/10

#this is 90% just to get this out of my head if you've read this far that's on you #natm #natm 4 #night at the museum #night at the museum kamenrah rises again #personal

[nugget-creates-things]

So, I finally got around to it, here’s a master post for my boy, Mateo Locklear! This is also for @smallartistocbracket

Basic Info:

Full Name: Mateo Jay Locklear

Nickname(s): Jack Frost, Mats, Little Snowflake

Birthday: December 19th

Zodiac: Sagittarius

MBTI Type: ENFP

Height: 5’10”

Likes: Running, Hanging Out With His Family And Friends, Using His Kinesis, Jokes, Pranks, Pinapples, Video Games, Baking/Cooking, Being The Center Of Attention, His dog Banjo

Dislikes: Easter, Bullies, Math, Chores, Social Pressure, People who can’t take a joke, Being scolded by his mom, Strawberries.

Other Fun Stuff

Favorite color is red

When Mateo was born, his skin was ice cold due to his powers and the doctors thought he was dead

Mateo was definitely that one kid in middle school who told you the pinky finger was the middle finger in China.

Mateo is 15 at the beginning of my story, Powerful Blood, and is the twin brother of one of my protagonists, Zach Locklear. Mateo has Cryokinesis, meaning he can create and control ice and snow. Mateo is a energetic, charismatic and friendly kid, always ready to help others and make friends. He can be a bit stubborn and impulsive, but it’s always out of love. He’s confident in who he is, and doesn’t take shit from others.

Zach, Mateo’s twin brother, means the world to him. The two have always watched out for each other, protecting and hyping each other up. Growing up, Zach was bullied often, and Mateo would protect him and try to encourage him to stand up for himself. They love each other, and would do anything for each other. Except each other’s chores.

Mateo was raised by his mom, Jade Locklear, and Dakota Locklear. Mateo adores his mom and aunt; they’re his heroes. His mom’s kindness and strength and his aunt’s energy and determination inspire him everyday. He’s grateful for everything they’ve done for him.

At school, Mateo has two close friends: Owen Price and Ella Davis. Ella is on the track team with him, and Owen is the one who keeps the two out of trouble. The three met in middle school, and have been inseparable ever since.

Later in the story, he begins to form a relationship with his childhood friend, Chloe Wilson. The two tease each other back and forth, but have each other’s back. Mateo is absolutely smitten by her <3

He also becomes friends with Jayce Poulsen; the two are… well two halves of a whole idiot. They match each other’s energy, and quickly form a bromance. Chaos follows them where ever they go!

Things aren’t easy, of course. Mateo struggles with his powers, and family drama. He tries to stay optimistic as things begin to spiral, but it becomes to much, and often times he breaks down from the pressure and anxiety.

That’s all I can share for now, since… spoilers! But Mateo means the world to me, and I could talk about him for hours. I hope you enjoyed learning about my boy!!

#ocs #my art #mateo locklear #zach locklear #jade locklear #dakota locklear #owen price #ella davis #chloe wilson #jayce poulsen #powerful blood

[etourvol]

Hey, stumbled upon your youtube channel a while back, and i have to say that i LOVE your art- and music taste! I'd never heard Owen Wilson's music before and I love it, and 'Staring At The Sun' was genuinely so beautiful (and obscure) that I have to ask if you have a spotify or playlists of some sort? If not, perhaps music recommendations, especially songs similar to Staring At? Love your work!

Thanks! My main Spotify playlist is currently over a decade old, almost 3000 songs long, and is completely unorganized by genre, so I'm not sure I would recommend that... but here it is anyways if you're feeling bold. I have a much more condensed playlist of some all-time favorites that needs to be updated but should suffice.

Here's a few select recommendations of other artists I like that I think are similar-ish to Staring At The Sun (criteria: indie rock, "darker" feeling instrumentation)... this was tough I feel like TV On The Radio has a really unique sound. I grouped this by artist and included a few songs I like from each artist in the parentheses, but bolded the ones that you'd probably like most since this got long.

TV On The Radio (Wolf Like Me, DLZ, Mercy)

Bloc Party (The Prayer, The Pioneers, This Modern Love)

White Lies (There Goes Our Love Again, From The Stars, Big TV)

Interpol (Evil, Pioneer to the Falls)

Baths (Earth Death)

Everything Everything (Duet, To The Blade)

Stereolab (Tempter, Super-Electric)

The New Pornographers (Whiteout Conditions)

White Sea (It Will End in Disaster, Prague)

The Strokes (What Ever Happened?, Reptilia, Ode to the Mets)

You mentioned liking Owen Pallett too (at least that's what I think was meant by Owen Wilson LOL). If you like their music, I'd recommend Patrick Wolf and Sufjan Stevens. That is a whole other recommendations rabbit hole I can go down. Thank you for the compliment and the ask, I love to talk about music (evidently!) @rorylow

#answer #thanks for the ask!! i will always talk about music.

[gummybear1031]

So I watched "Annabelle Comes Home" on Oct. 2 but didn't livetweet it 'cause my dad called. He got y'all's livetweet in real time.

Yesterday, I watched "Mr. Boogedy" and didnt livetweet it because it sucked.

Today! The randomizer picked the new "Haunted Mansion" movie.

It was meh. The Muppets did it better

Spoilers and recap of the livetweet below the cut.

Angriest not-a-ghost tour I’ve ever seen.

Okay, I would actually enjoy this angry ghost tour probably. We do a bunch of ghost and historical walking tours. Also, this hummingbird story is legit the kind of thing people tell me when they say they saw a ghost once. 

I like Rosario Dawson’s car and U-haul showing up during Ben’s angry not-a-ghost tour. Nice connection, Mouse. 

Thank you, Rosario, for being sensible! Yes, you leave the obviously haunted house before everybody dies. 

Fun fact: I was the “You’ll be back!” ghost (well, zombie) at a haunted hayride for several years. 

Priest Owen Wilson’s cat is amazing. I want to pet them. They’re so fluffy!

Fr. Owen didn’t read the book. Victor never finished med school! 

Action Guy absolutely reminded me of Abuelita with a chancla. So samesies!

Of course, the ghosts refuse to do anything when there’s a person around. 

Why does everybody keep missing the ghost in the rearview mirror? 

My dad also loves that show, dead sea captain! Like our father-daughter dance was to “Wanted Dead or Alive” because of it. 

I know Ben’s pain. Don’t want to be in the house because it’s full of ghosts; don’t want to be outside because it’s too peopley. 

He just wants to chill in your house and watch Deadliest Catch. Let him! *Ben opens door* Nevermind. Not cool, ghost. 

Danny Devito! YES!

Harriet the Psychic matches every psychic I’ve ever met. This is exactly how my sister does her stuff. 

They’ve already screwed up this seance. Don’t break the circle! That’s how y’all get possessed. 

“Here’s a pen and pad I purchased at CVS.” This is almost as bad as the Hocus Pocus 2 scene in the Walgreens. 

Ben, that is obviously some sort of ghost trick. That is not your wife. 

Constance’s husbands’ heads disappearing from the photos is great. But I still prefer Taraji P. Henson’s version of her. 

Fun fact: never leave your crystal ball uncovered when not in use. The sun may strike it and set your house on fire. 

Sorry, Jamie Lee Curtis, but Miss Piggy did it better. 

Is this ghost in middle school? Unscrewing the top of the Zataran’s like that? Also, I have the same seasoning in my house; it’s good, and that ghost should feel bad for messing with Rosario’s cooking like that. 

The candle that’s blowing itself out looks really … phallic. 

The product placement in this movie is wild. It’s so hard to take them seriously when Ben is sobbing the phrase “Baskin Robbins.” 

Hasan Minaj! Why were you listed so early in the credits if this is your only scene? 

Crump’s backstory is just wild. Of course he turned into Jared Leto with a backstory like that. 

I like what they’ve done with the stretching room. 

Winona Ryder? Are you doing a Linda Cardellini impression? Also, this is the worst tour I’ve ever seen. And I was once on a tour where the guy claimed the Civil War was still happening in the 1840s. Twenty years before it started. 

Did that spider just scream?

More product placement. I actually like Burger King; their veggie burgers are really good.

Fr. Owen Wilson is going to federal prison. Like, that’s a felony. A pretty serious one if you perform a sacrament. 

Prof. Danny Devito is obviously possessed. Ghost, you are really bad at your job. (Is scare people a job?)

OMG. It was almost the professor in the drawing room with the candlestick. Fortunately, Rosario saved the day. 

More movies need evil Danny Devitos. 

I know Travis is 9, but he’s the dumbest mofo ever. 

Okay. I actually feel really bad now. I got depression too, buddy. That said, you don’t think it’s weird your dad sounds just like the Hatbox Ghost?

How did Crump kill a mummy? Did he kill a bunch of people at a costume party? 

Is Fr. Owen riding Constance into battle? With her army of beheaded husbands? 

Dead sea captain got his boat! Yay!

#haunted mansion #happy halloween #31 days 31 horror movies 2023

[jdeanmorgan]

hiiii sonny here are some sleepover questions!!

what are your top 3 series other than 911? have you ever met a celebrity? and what are some of your biggest pet peeves?

hope you have a great weekend!!! 💜✨

hiii bon!!!! <3

my top 3 shows outside 911... hmm... okay so I'll say the ones I always inevitably end up rewatching countless times: supernatural, glee and law and order svu

but i have to give it up from some honorary mentions: american horror story, interview with the vampire, sense8 and chucky the tv series.

I have met a few, yeah! Only mostly icelandic ones, though. But i'll say the one hollywood actor i've met is owen wilson, and i asked him if he was an actor cause my brain was not comprehending who he was cause like. what was he doing at the bus top in iceland lmao.

biggest pet peeves... hmm... i think it's snoring. like i know people can't control it but it makes me irrationally angry. i always put on headphones and try and ignore it when it happens around me haha

thank you, bon! I hope you have a great weekend too!!

[everyscreentoobeseen]

Just watched Marry Me, and yes it is cheesy. Yes it was predictable. Yes, it was good.            

But instead of talking about how Marry Me is the start of a new wave of cheesy rom-coms. Let talk about how the movie actually set a good precedent for telling a rather dramatic story, in a rather nonchalant way.

The thing that made it work.

The Characters.

Maybe the main leads are just that good at acting or maybe the director and writing team gave the actors an easy job.

But for me and my viewing experience, Owen Wilson carried this movie. For some reason he just sells the idea that he is the PERFECT man for Kat Valdez.

The one moment from him that made me completely understand why Kat choose him was actually the moment when Kat saw him in the crowd.

The image of the crowd around him being too enamored with looking at Kat the Popstar through a phonescreen while Charlie is looking at only at Kat. His eyes had such a soft hearted and emphatic expression.

It was as if he could see into her soul and saw the true Kat Valdez even if they had never met before, he already understood her.

I could completely understand why she choose him from the crowd of fans.

Not only that, i also loved his earnest expressions at the celebrity world around him. The dad jokes that came at impeccable timing to cheer others up. The way he never turned mean or angry, just overwhelmed and insecure when things looked rough. The way he truly cares for his dog and daughter. The fact that his relationship with his daughter felt authentic and even when they had to overcome obstacles, Charlie was always there for his family.

There have been alot of "Good Guy" characters that might act like one but still have annoying or even toxic traits that makes an audience question whether his love interest should even bother with him. But Charlie Gilbert felt like a man that could be freinds (or lovers) with literally anyone as long as they gave him a chance.

Charlie Gilbert is probably in Top Ten List for Movie Boyfriend/Husband of the decade. He has been to most comforting male character to grace the screens in a long time for me.

Of course JLO is just as good as Kat Valdez. You can feel her struggle through her search for love, especially since she's already been married three times before. The way her kind and open personality shines through whatever fake Hollywood smile she puts on for the cameras.

You can tell the shift from "I made a mistake by marrying a stranger, but I need to not look like an idiot in front of the world." to "Charlie is actually a nice guy, maybe this won't be so bad." to "Charlie is the best person I've ever been with, I cant just give him up without a fight." Throughout the story. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's an act and what's real. Which is the same struggle Charlie faces throughout the movie. But once you see what stays consistent, you realize that she's a normal person too, behind all the celebrity hype.

Of course all of her songs are bops as well so for anyone who likes musicals, you like when the songs pop up as they serve as storytelling device as well.

But these two leads have great chemistry together. Although it's definitely not fiery hot sexual tension ramped up to eleven, there's almost this domestic comfortable easiness that makes you believe that these two strangers are learning about each other and that they learn to like what they're seeing.

As a side note, the side characters were funny and good as well.

Now I didn't read the Graphic Novel (but I will shortly) so I dont know what the changes are between the comic and the movie.

But the movie itself is great for people who want romance movies to be playful but also be taken seriously.

#marry me #jenifer lopez #owen wilson #charlie gilbert #kat valdez #marry me movie #review from a filthy casual

[eevee-of-rivia]

An horny thought

Summary: Just an horny thought I had yesterday while talking with @fanficshiddles​

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x You

Word count: 1,6k

Warning: smut, fingering and a lot of fluff! A/N; I’m not good at writing smut and this is I thought i tried to transform into a fan fiction

You were invited to Loki’s world premiere by Owen Wilson, one of your greatest friends, and this is where you first met Tom. You were chit-chatting with Owen when Tom decided to approach you. He’s been looking at you for a while pondering whether it should come to present itself or not. He starts to walk towards you, a sweet smile on his face, catching your attention. "Hi," he says Smiling at you, completely ignoring his friend Owen who, understanding the situation, decided to leave you alone. "I hope to not disturb you but I wanted to present myself," he says, gently taking your hand and bringing it to his lips kissing it. "My name is Tom"

The two of you continued to talk for a while until Owen came to inform you that the premiere was about to begin. "I think we need to go," you say smiling at Tom. "Hope to see you again" you conclude starting to walk towards your friend when Tom grabs your hand making you turn to look at him.

""Wait, I wanted to ask you if after the premiere you’d like to go out to dinner," he asks you with a little smile on his face. "I would love to" you answer him before kissing his cheek and walking towards Owen who has watched the entire scene and was grinning like a cat.

Tom would take you on a lot of dates. The first one, of course, would be your date after the Loki premiere. He would take you to a fancy restaurant, with a table reserved only for the two of you. He would pay for anything, slightly glaring at you when you tried to take put your wallet from your purse. And, OF COURSE, he would take you home. BUT He wouldn’t kiss you. He would kiss your hand Wishing you a good night and waiting for you to get into your home safely.

He would text you the next morning, asking you if you were free that night. You text him back telling him that you, indeed, were free and asking him why adding a little smile at the end of the text. The only answer you received was a winking smile followed by the text "I’ll pick you up at 8:00" For your second date, Tom would take you to this lovely restaurant, with a small terrace with a sea view. He would have everything Planned, asking the staff if they could reserve you a table with a sea view.

The date was amazing. After the two of you finished your dinner Tom Took you to the beach for a walk while the sun was starting to set down and after a while, he took you home. You and Tom were again in front of your door when he kissed your forehead Wishing you Goodnight. You were slightly disappointed because you expected a kiss from him, letting a little frown appear on your face. He noticed the little pout that had just appeared on your face and asked you "is there anything wrong darling?" "Well.." you said not looking at him in the eyes, finding your own hands more interesting. He chuckled a bit taking your chin with one of his hands making you look at him. "You are a princess darling and you should be treated as such. I want to court properly." AND WELL Your face was hot as hell. He would kiss again your forehead Wishing you again Goodnight promising you to take you on another date soon.

For your third date Tom decides to take you on a Pic nic Under the cherry trees.

He would text you that he will meet you in an hour to the nearest park and to wear something comfortable.

After you dressed you started to walk to the park that Tom told you abaut and, when you arrive, you canìt believe your eyes. You see Tom sitting on a blanket under a cherry tree softly smiling to you. You accelleri il tuo passo until you are in front of Tom, who now is standing, before hugging him tightly.

You two spend hours talking about everything until the petals just start falling and you loose yourself watching the petals fall. He would admire you for a bit before calling softly your name. You would turn your face to watch Tom giving him the possibility to take your face in one hand slowly leaning into you , giving you the time to stop him if you didn't want this. But then he saw you closing your eyes so he just lean closer and closer until he's kissing you.

The kiss is sweet but passionate at the same time. His hand olding your face slowly move to the back of your neck slightly tilting your head.

It’s passed a while after the kiss, the stars are shining above you, you two spent all the day talking and kissing and sharing your passions. He asks you if you would like to spend the night at his house because he doesn’t want you to walk to your home at this time of the night. You agree and then he takes you to his home. When you two arrive at Tom's house there is Bobby greeting him (why nobody talks about his dog pls I love him so much) and you just fall in love with him starting to pet him and playing with him. While you are cuddling Bobby Tom decides to go to the kitchen. He stays there for a while before he appears again in front of you with two wine glasses in his hands sitting down on the couch beside you and before giving you one of the glasses. You two keep talking until your glasses are both empty and he just put them on the glass table in front of you. You keep talking for a while until he just kisses you. But this time the kiss is more Needy and passionate and his hands start roaming all over your body and your hands start caressing his chest.

He kisses you for a while before gripping your waist with both hands and whispering to your lips "let's take this to the bedroom". He doesn't wait for you to answer because he just lifts you and puts you on his shoulder and when you try to protest because "Tom please I can walk" he just spank your ass growling a bit. "Don't make me punish you" he says in his low Loki voice (you previously confessed to him that Loki is your favorite character of all the ones he has played). When he arrives in the bedroom he "throws" you on the bed and then he's immediately on top of you putting your hands on the top of your head and restraining your wrists with one of his hands. He then starts to kiss your neck while, with his free hand, he's unbuttoning your shirt letting him admire the new lingerie set that you bought just for him. When he sees that he can't control himself anymore. He releases your wrist after ordering you to not move them. He takes off your pants, shirt, and lingerie before taking some time to admire your body. "Mh maybe I was wrong about you," he says looking at you in the eyes, making you worry a bit. Maybe he doesn't like what he sees. Maybe he has realized that he has made a mistake by starting to dating you. Maybe- Your thoughts were interrupted but his firm but soft voice "you are not a princess, you are a goddess" And before you can realize it he puts one of your legs on his shoulders starting to kiss the inner of your tight slowly getting closer to where you need and want him the most but not giving you yet the sweet release you are craving.

He teases you for a while, fingering you while kissing and sucking your clit stopping when you were almost coming. He teases you until you are a begging mess, just begging him to fuck you already. "My my pet, I didn't think you were so impatient But you have behaved so well, I think you deserve a reward" he whispers on your lips before getting off of the bed and starting to undress until he's naked in all of his glory And It's a bit hard to not stare but he doesn't feel uncomfortable about that, he's pleased that you are taking your time to admire him. He slowly crawls back on the bed and he sets himself between your thighs. He takes his time slowly pushing himself into you, stopping when he sees that he's hurting you a bit and waiting for you to tell him that he can continue. After you get accustomed he would fuck you into oblivion. He would make you cum so many times that you will beg him to stop because you are too oversensitive. "One more little one," he asks you while his thrusts became faster and harder, When he feels that you are close he starts to rub your clit with his hand making you cum so hard around him. He comes with you filling you with his hot seed. He's exhausted but he tries to not crush on you because he knows that you will be uncomfortable. So he just stays up on his elbows watching you, waiting for you to open your eyes. "Are you still with me?" he asks you, after a while, with his soft voice seeing that you haven't opened your eyes yet. You just not a bit before opening your eyes and smiling at him. "Never being better," you say to him making him chuckle "What do you think about a hot bath? Then we can cuddle a bit and you can rest" And well Do I need to add more? That was one of the best days you have ever had in your entire life.

A/N:Thank you so much for reading

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #fanfic #smut #fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut

[slowlyandthenallatonce]

To Build a Home

A/N: Hello all, and this is my second fic in the Fuck Me February series, aka Reader Insert February, aka the only month I dedicate to reading reader inserts as a tradition because I am single and to afraid to mingle with real people and fuck Valentine's Day being 'SAD' day for single people because I'm not unhappy where I am as a single person in life so I read reader inserts this month because I know I only deserve the best and this year I decided to post a couple-February. Unfortunately I didn't get to finish reading this one with my Snoop Sister before posting it, but we were both busy with work and our free days didn't match up. So for the first time, I'm posting this blindly without knowing my sister's thoughts on it first. But I wanted to keep to my word, and post it on the last day of February, so here I am. Wow *Owen Wilson Voice*

To Build a Home

Rating: Mature, 17+

Pairing: Hvitserk/Reader

CW: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Religious Conflict

Summary: “Do I know you?”

“Um….I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No….” He trailed off softly, a small smile across his face. “I know you. I know I do.”

_______________________________

You had made your way back to York with a skip in your step. Wrought with plague, you were sent away to keep from infecting the rest of the people of the town. They all doubted they’d ever see you again, your family even cried when you were sent away, convinced you’d be dead from the sickness. You had thought so as well, lying alone, in the isolated shack.

Returning to York was strange, you frowned up at the gates, usually open, and strained to hear the bustle of people going about their lives inside, but it was dead silent. “I lived! I fought the plague and lived! You can let me in, I swear I’m alright now!” You yelled, but there was no answer.

The pit in your gut told you it was suspicious, but you often ignored the pit in your gut. You knew you could climb the wall, you’d always loved climbing, but kept your ability to do so quietly since you were a child. Little Christian girls can’t climb, and you were thoroughly whipped with a reed for it by your mother. You didn’t care much being caught climbing this time, too giddy with life.

The stone was jagged enough to grip, though it bit into your hand, and they’d no doubt sting for a few nights after. You’d thought at this point they would have thrown down a rope or pulled you over at least, it was either their fear of your plague or a cruel trick that left you pulling yourself up the walls of York alone.

Hoisting yourself over the top with a giggle, you started to say to the watch “bet you boys couldn’t do that as well as I just did!”. But these men were strange, and they looked at you completely surprised. You stuttered back, and opened your mouth to speak again, but found yourself looking over what was once York, and found wicked, foreign people staring back at you.

One of them grunted at you in a rough and violent language, and your attention was back on the watchmen surrounding you, and brandishing weapons. Some swords, others bows, but all had an ax, and you knew. Only the Northman wields the ax in battle.

It was a barbaric and violent choice of weapon, the only one worthy of a warrior of Valhalla, and you were struck by the thought you survived the plague only to die at the hands of the Northmen. The sudden dark image of your own skull being split open by one of their axes had burdened your mind. Thereafter, every step taken towards you, you stepped further away. You took a glance at the staircase that led to the village below, or your other option being back over the wall you had just climbed. The latter was the better escape, seeing as taking the stairs would lead you straight to more of them, but you couldn’t climb down as well as you could climb up, and hurting yourself on the way down would hinder your escape further.

One of them had, at this point, gotten close enough to lay a hand on your shoulder, and you sprung into action. Your dash towards the stairs was certainly unexpected to most of them, and you stumbled over your own feet on the way down, catching yourself on your hands once at the bottom. Trying to hike up your heavy skirt as much as possible, you pushed past wandering confused Northmen, who grew more aware of the issue as you ran, catching on to your unwelcome presence there and trying to stop you.

A sharp pain went across your arm, and you yelped at the feeling, touching the spot proved that an arrow had nicked you deeply, and the warm blood pooling in your hand caused you more dizziness than your tiredness of running and the pain of the wound itself.

When you looked away from the wound, Northman had gathered around you, and there was no place to run forward or back without being run through by a sword.

You fell to your knees in tears, knowing it was over, but comforted by the thought that you’d soon join your family with God. Sobbing on the ground, and clutching your bloody arm you heard a distant and loud yelling, like a commander calling for order, and the sea of Northman split to allow three select men to step forward.

The first was blue eyed with a long braid down his back, but with hair the color of tree bark. He wore a leather armor vest, much like the rest of them, and he looked on you kindly, with pity, and furrowed brows. You would have taken hope in his eyes if his hand weren’t so readily placed on his ax.

The second man was on the ground, and crawled forward closer, inspecting you with curiosity. His hair was shorter, and a darker brown, twisted tightly to his head and adorned with runic beads. His eyes were just as, if not more blue, and it struck a sadness in you that you could not comprehend.

The last, like the other two, was brown haired and blue eyed. His arms crossed over his chest, and he smirked down at you. He was the first to speak, never taking his eyes off of you, but addressing the other two. The tallest one with the longest hair replied first, and they continued a calm back and forth, the long haired one appearing serious, and his friend still smirking like you were a joke. They were soon interrupted by the one on the ground, he had laughed and said something darkly, it wiped the smirk off the others face.

You heard him call the second one “Hvitty” like it was a tease, and the other rolled his eyes. The second one, “Hvitty” you supposed, finally sighed and stepped forward, growing closer and closer. Panicked and afraid, you saw the arrow that had struck you lying on the ground. You gripped it with your uninjured hand and held it towards him. He did take a step back, but the sea of Northmen had taken your meek defense as a serious threat and started towards you once more with full intentions of attack, and you realized threatening one of their leaders was a mistake, but you probably should have known that before.

Luckily he called them off immediately. He laughed, looking down at you and saying something that caused the rest of the crowd to whoop and cheer, and you could only imagine the horrors he had just said about you to the hoard of Northman.

He started towards you again, bending over and snatching the arrow from your hands, snapping it in half, and tossing the pieces of them hopelessly away. He crouched at your level, and you shied away as best you could. “That was stupid. Did you really think that would go in your favor?”

You jumped. “You speak English? But how-”

“My father taught me.” He tilted his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I live here.” You glanced around. “Or- I used to.”

He laughed again. “That’s right. You used to. Now, you have two choices. You can keep living here, as a prisoner, or I can kill you.” He took up his ax from his belt, and held it close to your neck. He moved so fast, you fell back into the dirt to get away, pain shooting through your arm and more blood seeping into the ground. The Northman laughed at you again.

Your head spun and you whimpered, trying to cover your face with your hands as if it could hide you from shame. But your head continued to feel light, and you thought that if you passed out you might not feel the blow of his ax.

But you didn’t want to die. You really didn’t want to die. You had barely got to live, you had barely got to be happy, you had barely even begun to believe there was a God, and if you died now you might not even get into heaven.

“Hey, look at me.” You heard him say, and you peeked through your hands and found him leaning over you. “You’re ok. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me, but you’re ok.”

You shook your head, gasping out. “No- no I’m not, I can’t breathe!” You didn’t know what was wrong with you, but the world was fading. Maybe you were already dying.

He looked over your body with furrowed brows. “You’re not injured.”

For some reason it came out louder than you had wanted, but you yelled. “Yes I am! Look at it!” And you uncovered your arm once again. He took your arm in the palm of his hand and inspected the wound, squeezing it gently. You groaned and hit him for causing the pain. “What the hell are you thinking?!”

“Shhh.” Was all and he continued to prode the cut despite your protest. “It’s deep, but not too big. You will be alright.”

“No, I won’t. God hates me, I know now God hates me. First he gave me plague, and when I survived instead he sent the Northmen to kill me and my family.”

“I won’t kill you, I swear. You will be alright.” You heard as you drifted off. He shook you gently. “Hey, look at me.” That’s when you saw his face, like you had truly seen it for the first time, and there was a pang in your chest. He had a warm smile, and a soft touch against your cheek. It was the kind of face you could remember infinitely. “You’ll be alright, I swear.”

He hoisted you off the ground, one strong arm around your waist, and you hobbled beside him through the crowd of Vikings, fading away more and more with every step. Maybe you had died in that moment, because you had there after seen a life that you had never lived, a happiness, a heaven that you thought was too good to be heaven, and a face that branded your heart, and burned through the very possibility that said love was as finite as life. That face, it looked like it loved easy, and broke even easier, and both were just as beautiful and lethal as the very ax he wields in battle and brandished in the name of Valhalla. You saw a dream that you could spend forever chasing and never achieving.

_______________________________

You woke up to the sound of a baby crying. Blinking away the light, you realized there was actually little of it, and you were in a small town house that you’d seen often growing up. The windows were blocked out most of the way with cloth, and there were makeshift beds around the cramped room. You were with other survivors of York. And you noticed all of them are women, weeping and sniffling their own grievances. How long ago was the attack? You wondered.

The only boy left alive was the babe, wailing in a pile of blankets by himself across the room, the child you recognized immediately, but saw that his parents were not among the survivors. What bothered you further was that none of the others attempted to soothe the poor baby.

You pushed yourself up, a woozy feeling rushing to your head as you did so, and hissing at the wound in your arm as you put weight on it. Standing proved to be more difficult than usual at the moment, so you instead crawled across the room, not wanting to fall and hurt yourself more. You didn’t care what the other survivors thought if they saw you so ridiculously, and they weren’t paying any attention anyway.

The baby was still caked in filthy clothes, and splattered with blood. He would search his surroundings, probably for his mother, and he reached for you helplessly for comfort. You had to bite your lip in order to choke back tears at the sight. He reached for you and you reached for him, and in your arms he continued to cry, but you felt better knowing he had someone that could care for him now.

Looking back at the women with you, you spoke up but your voice was raw, “How many nights has it been since the attack?”

They looked back at you strangely, scowling, and ignored. Frustrated and tired, you snapped at them again. “I asked you a question. How many god damn nights has it been?!”

“Shut it you bitch!” One of the older women shouted. “Where the fuck were you, huh? Maybe if you had been with your people you would have known. And you should know better than cursing the lord, he’ll punish us worse now for your sinful mouth.”

You laughed darkly. “Says the hag cursing worse than the Northmen. The attack was God’s work, is that what you think?”

“It can’t have been anyone else’s.” She said confidently.

“I think the Vikings who did the actual work would take offense to God stealing all the credit. If you want to credit any God, do so the North Gods.”

“The devil is more like.” She sneered.

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “I only want to know how long the baby’s been left this way, when the last time he fed.”

A younger girl, a few years below you you guessed, spoke up, pouting. “Why do you care, we’re all dead now. Doesn’t matter.”

“Are you stupid? We’re obviously not dead.”

“That’s not what I meant, you know that.”

Maybe you were being a bitch but nobody wanted to cooperate with you. “That might not be what you meant, but that’s not what you said. You said we’re dead, does this look like heaven to you?”

She shrugged, defeated. “Could be hell.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. We’re not dead, we’re slaves, prisoners, don’t you get it?” You readjusted the baby in your arms, noticing he had become a little more quiet, but still crying. You mumbled to yourself. “Why do you think we’re all women?”

Besides the babe, of course. You wondered what had caused them to spare the child. Surely they aren’t all bad if they knew how cruel it is to kill a baby.

You searched the room, on your knees and the boy in your arms, and received no help from the others. You found a barrel of water, and a pile of clothes left behind, most likely left by the Northmen for the survivors, but the women favored wallowing in their own self pity, and blood stained dresses. You changed the baby, cleaning the dirt off him gently with a dampened cloth, and wrapped him in a long strip of fabric like a swaddle. He was grown enough to be wearing small clothes by now, but there were none small enough for him. A blanket would have to do.

Now feeling strong enough to stand, you tried peeking through the blocked out windows, but could barely make anything out, only figures walking around. The only option was to try for the door. You didn’t think much of it at the moment, truly unaware of the women behind you trying to warn you.

Opening the door, it was all fine for a moment, but as light flooded the room, and Vikings outside became aware that you had made an attempt to leave their little designated area, well, it was about to be that morning all over again. A few of them rushed forward, and you held the baby back instinctually. One of them had grabbed you and pushed you back, rather painfully, into the room, making it as if to close the door again, but you had to get your word in while you had the chance.

“The baby needs milk. Are there any women there that can feed him? Any at all?” They did stop, staring at you confused. They couldn’t understand you. So you pointed at the whining boy. “Feed, he needs to feed on breast milk. Have you any female warriors here that can help?”

They looked at each other, shrugging, and were about to leave again. You remembered something from this morning. “Hvitty!” And it had stopped them again. There was recognition on their face, and they…giggled? “Yes, Hvitty. I want to see Hvitty.”

They laughed again, and you clenched your teeth impatiently. They spoke to each other, discussing what you had said. After they seemed to come to a sort of conclusion, they grabbed your arm, covering your eyes with a cloth. For a moment, you felt them try to take the baby out of your arms, but you held him tighter and turned away.

You were led through the streets of York, and you smirked, wondering why they had bothered blindfolding you. This was your home, you could recognise where you were by sound and smell, and the changing gravel under your feet. Albeit you stumbled a few times over your own missteps, but soon you were in a building, the voices were less and a few specific ones grew louder, and you stopped in front of those voices.

One of your guides started, trying to explain your demands without really knowing what they truly were, the men that replied were familiar. You tried to picture the face with the voice, and you thought of the man on the ground.

They had mentioned ‘Hvitty’ and you heard an exasperated groan, followed by the cackling of the man on the ground. After that you were tugged away, by the other arm now, and you winced. It was your injured arm.

You were pulled so quickly through York you hadn’t enough time to think about where you were going. Shoved through a door, and having it slam behind, the cloth around your eyes was ripped away so quickly, adjusting back to sight was uncomfortable. The Viking from before looked at you, anger in his eyes.

“My name is Hvitserk. Don’t call me Hvitty, ever.”

You stepped back, fearing his possible wrath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. It’s only what I heard him call you earlier.”

“He calls me that because he knows I hate it, and the others think it’s funny. Don’t call me that, or they won’t take me seriously.”

“I’m sorry….” You tried again. “Hvit-um. Hold on.” You struggled to pronounce his name. “Hvet-sarck.”

He raised his brows, disbelieving. “Hvitserk, it’s not that hard.”

“Sorry- Hvitserk.”

Hvitserk took a deep breath, seeming to calm himself. “What did you need from me?”

“Oh, um. The baby needs to eat. I was wondering if-”

He tilted his head. “Can’t you do that?”

“Um, no? Why would I do that? I’ve not got any children yet, so I can't breastfeed.”

He shrugged. “Hm, your tits looked plump enough to me, I just assumed you had children.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just meant-” He stopped. “It doesn’t matter. Yes, I can find a shield maiden willing to feed the boy.”

He started to reach for the baby, and you kept him close to your chest. “Can’t I take him? Just tell me who to go to.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Hvitserk reached for the baby again, hesitating, you handed the child over. Tears came to your eyes again, and you felt a complete lack of trust for the man. There was a part of you that wondered if you’d ever see the child again.

But Hvitserk adjusted the baby in his arms, holding him up at eye level and smiling. He bounced the child up and down, and then settled him against his chest. The baby calmed down with Hvitserk’s rocking.

When he looked back at you, his smile dropped at your miserable state. “Are you alright?”

Your lip trembled. “What will you do to him?”

He frowned at you, and opened his mouth to speak, but the baby squirmed in his arms, unsettled once more, and reached out to you. Hvitserk tried readjusting him once more, but the boy only wanted to comfort your tears. “I was only going to do what you wanted. Did you think I’d kill a baby?”

You sniffled. “I don’t know. I don’t know you at all. Only that you took over my home town, threatened to kill me, and yelled at me for not knowing your proper name.”

When the child whined and cried again, you surged forward and snatched him away from the viking. Hvitserk at least had the decency to look surprised by you, he sighed, only crossing his arms and thinking to himself. “Will you sit for a moment?”

You finally took a look at the room you stood in. It looked like a bedroom, one closer to the center of York, nearer to the Church and therefore god, that belonged to some of the nobles who once resided here. The bed was far larger than any that you had seen at your family’s home, and there was actual furniture, rather than the measly few tables and bowls you were used to growing up with. You sat on the bed, and looked at Hvitserk rubbing his face, like he had the right of the two of you to be exasperated.

“I am sorry I was angry with you. That was not right.” He paced about, and it began to make you feel anxious. “I am only going to take the baby to be fed, like you asked.”

“But-I still don’t understand why I can’t go with him….”

Hvitserk groaned. “You were brought to me blindfolded, does that mean anything to you?”

You shrugged. “No, I don’t understand. I grew up here, it's not like I’m completely in enemy territory.”

“Well, you are now.” He groaned again, and sat beside you. You flinched away but he didn’t seem to notice. “Look, we are expecting an attack, for your people to attempt to take back York. My brother might kill you if he knew you had seen the strategies he had planned.”

Hvitserk reached for the baby again, and you gasped when he was taken from your arms. “But why?!” You cried. “God damn you Hvitserk, if you walk out of here with that boy, I am following you!”

“Because you might try to tell our enemies our strategies. Stay here, or do you have a death wish?”

“I would not tell them I swear.”

He scoffed. “I’ve never heard a worse lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Of course you are, they are your people, you want them to rescue you.” The baby looked between the two of you, eyes welling, and Hvitserk bounced him in his arms at the sight. “It would not be in your interest to protect us over your own people.”

You tightened your jaw, and with a puffed chest, your voice was clear and confident. “I would not tell them, I haven’t even the ability to do so.”

He looked at you, then towards the baby. Hvitserk shook his head. “Odin help me.” And he opened the front door. “Please hurry. Last thing I want is for you to end up dead, after all the shit I went through to keep you alive.”

You hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, but you followed him through York, the home you now saw as unrecognizable. The streets were flooded with Northmen, sharpening weapons, and building traps. You saw some others putting carvings on each other's skin, and it looked painful. There were men and women both braiding each other's hair intricately. You looked at them, and touched Hvitserk’s arm. “You have them too.”

“Hm?” He was too busy looking for the shield-maiden to understand what you meant.

You both came upon her sharpening axes, and she looked at you startled, but brushed it off in favor of whatever Hvitserk was saying. You wished you could speak that language, it seemed similar enough to your own to learn, and interesting.

They spoke for a while, then the woman smiled at the baby presented to her, and took him to feed. She did so shamelessly out in the open, no one else seemed to care, and you blushed. “What did you say before?”

Hvitserk drew your eyes away from the woman breastfeeding the boy, and you struggled to remember. “Oh, your hair. You have braids as well. All of the men do.”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Is it not feminine?”

He smiled. “No, not to Vikings. For us, it is like….” He drifted off trying to explain, but having trouble. “It is a community activity, or more a family activity, it’s-”

“It’s how our mothers and fathers groom us as children.” He was interrupted by the man with the long braid. You remembered him from earlier as the gentle one. “And so we do it to show care for each other, like a form of love. Also to make sure we are clean.”

Hvitserk laughed. “Ubbe is better at explaining things than I am.”

You thought Ubbe might question why you were out and about, but he hadn’t said a word about it. “Only the noble women would wear braids, I don’t know how to do them.”

Hvitserk frowned. “That does not seem fair. Here.” He took up a piece of hair on the side of your head, running his fingers through it to comb it out. “Your hair is perfect, it will be easy to braid.” He began to lace the pieces together, his fingers moved swiftly, and you tried to observe what he was doing, but he did it so effortlessly. He chuckled to himself. “Ivar would love to braid your hair. Really, it is in the best condition for braiding, and he is the best of us. Complains all the time when he has to braid my hair.” He finished the section and ran it between his two fingers. “See, it is easy.”

Without thinking, you picked a piece of his unbraided hair and tried it for yourself. Your hands shook under his judgment, but he cupped the backs of your moving hands and they steadied. You finished with the small braid and he guided your fingers over it like he did yours, and you felt the bumps of the interlocking pieces.

Ubbe looked upon you both, and he wanted to roll his eyes at his brother, but he hadn’t the strength. Looking upon the two of you, it looked so similar to things he had seen on his father. He broke the tension. “It is good. With practice you will become faster, and the braid will not be so loose.”

But you only nodded your head, half hearing what Ubbe had told you. You were still trying to understand how a strand of braid between your fingers made you feel warm.

You only let go of him when the baby was handed back to you. Holding him to your chest, Hvitserk smiled at the two of you, placing his hand gently on the child's back. Ubbe smirked, but tried addressing you once more. “What is the boy’s name?”

“I don’t know, I’d never seen him before today.” You shrugged.

“He is your child now, you care for him.” Hvitserk said quietly. “His former name died with his former mother and father. You can rename him now.”

You thought of maybe your fathers name, but it didn’t fit. You settled on “Arthur. It is a sweet name.”

Ubbe laughed. “An English name. For an English mother. But this is a Viking town now, he must also have a Viking name.”

“I don’t know any Viking names.”

“Hakon.” Hvitserk said, holding your braid again. “It is a suitable name for him. Arthur Hakon.”

You agreed quietly, eyes wandering the surroundings. You looked at the pile of blades the shield-maiden had been sharpening, and you caught sight of a familiar one. Hvitserk’s ax was engraved with runes and the metal was dark and worn. You studied it from afar, and questioned the leather wrapping on the handle.

You handed the child, Arthur, off to Hvitserk once more, who took him as easily as a father would. You picked up his ax, and Ubbe felt alert by it, but Hvitserk was still relaxed, and so Ubbe did nothing to stop you.

It was heavy in your hands, but easy to wield. You frowned at the hard leather that wrapped the base of it. “This is hard leather, and intricately woven the way it is….” You looked at Hvitserk. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

He shrugged. “It does, but what can I do about it? Nothing.” He laughed.

You tugged on the hand that he used to hold the ax to you before, and he balanced the baby in one arm for you to inspect it. Like you expected, it was blistered, dry, and cut up, when one should only expect callouses from wielding their weapon.

You didn’t know what prompted the offer. “I can rebind it for you.” He raised his brows. “I would repatch my fathers boots. I enjoy working with leather, when done well, it is supple and comforting. If you are interested, I can even stamp it with runes later.”

Hvitserk opened his mouth to speak, but Ubbe spoke first. He grit his teeth at Hvitserk, and you felt so lost when they spoke their language to each other. Lost, and irritated.

Hvitserk bit back at him, spitting what sounded like curses to your ears, and eventually Ubbe threw his hands in defeat. He spoke in English now. “You play too much Hvitserk, when will you grow up.”

“When I know it is not a game.” He grunted, turning back to you. “Yes, thank you. But will it be done by tomorrow?”

Stuttering and looking between the two “Uh, yes, it shouldn’t take long.”

_______________________________

The first time he kissed you was after battle. You and the other survivors of York had been kept securely locked away while the British tried their best to take back York and rescue you.

You would hold Arthur through times like this, listening to the rage and violence outside, waiting for it to be over. The first time, Athelwulf’s army had breached the building where you were held. Soldiers screamed at you to move, and escape. Many of the others did, they followed the orders of the soldiers with the chance of escaping the Northmen.

But you were frozen, a child clutched to your chest. You did not know why you couldn’t move, you didn’t understand what was stopping you. But you thought about the thin braid dangling at the side of your head, and how you would retwine it, practicing whenever it would come loose.

A hoard of Vikings stormed the English soldiers, killing them and recapturing their prisoners before you even had the chance to realize you’d prefer to stay.

Hvitserk had been one of them, you barely screamed when he stepped behind the man yelling at you to escape, and struck him down with an ax to the back of his skull. You realized how free Hvitserk was like this, alive and fighting. So close to death, and remaining unconquered by it. You wanted that.

But maybe not in the same way.

You kept track of time by the progression of your healing wound. It was still split and raw, but it had begun to seal itself over just a bit. If you stretched the skin, you could see the seam formed underneath, beginning to finally sew itself together from the bottom up, layer by layer. You figured that means it had nearly been a week and a half. And it was the first attempt of attack from the English.

A pair of Northmen had brought you to him after the battle had died down, and the remaining Saxons had fled. You sat on the bed, awaiting his return from the dining hall, and you knew what was coming next, you’d heard about it before. The Northmen were known to take their pleasure after hard battles.

And as much as you knew you were meant to be afraid, you preferred this really. There was always a pressure you felt behind the idea of saving yourself for marriage, and for God. You figured this was better, and you didn’t have to worry much about not understanding its purpose. God had no place among the Northmen, and therefore he would have no room to judge you.

You thought of how your mom called it a little death, to be brought so close to the power of God, you glimpsed heaven through it.

Hvitserk burst through the door, and you thought you could see the lust in his eyes. He surged forward and grabbed you by the waist, lifting you from the bed and kissing you chastly on the lips.

You were shocked for a moment, it was unexpected, but he pulled away laughing and smiling, stripping off his armor, and you noticed he was still spattered in blood. Touching your face, you realized he got some on you too. “It is like it’s molded to my hand!” He cheered. “I have been training with it since you rebound it, and it has served me better since!”

You took a moment to understand that he spoke about the work you did on the handle of his ax. You felt your self smile, and a well of pride. “Oh, well, I’m glad it helped.”

“Help? No. No, it is more than that. It is like the work of dwarves. I am sure Thor’s hammer is not as easy to wield as this. Feel it for yourself.” And you didn’t understand why at first he handed it to you, you knew how supple the leather was. After all, it was your work. But you frowned at the way it felt to you, and Hvitserk was right. It was different now, it had been imprinted by his grip.

Holding the ax felt like holding Hvitserk’s hand.

“Thank you.” You looked up, and his face was sincere. It was the same face he made the day you had met, and he comforted you. You were hit with that strange feeling again, it could just about knock you over, but you didn’t envision anymore.

“You are very welcome.” And you felt shy under his strong gaze. He kissed you sweetly again, and continued to remove his armor. You wondered how he could kiss a stranger so easily, after all, you had only known each other for a short time. Perhaps it was normal among Vikings.

You stood awkwardly and confused, while he wiped off his face with water from a basin. Weren’t you supposed to have sex?

Hvitserk sat across from you now, in just his leather trousers and boots, and you tried best not to look at the strange black runes and markings on his chest. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, um, yes.” You startled.

“You were frozen today, when your people tried to rescue you.”

You shrugged, not knowing what the question was or how to answer. “I suppose. It was all a little….? Everything happened so quickly.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, you would not have gotten far.”

“I didn’t think about going.” You spoke truthfully.

“Really? Why?”

You sighed, sinking back onto the bed, and you didn’t know either. “I guess it’s more interesting here. If I escaped, I would just go back to a Christian life, and I already know everything there is to Chrsitian life. It’s not much. It makes me….sad.”

He chuckled. “Being Christian makes you sad? And what, being trapped here doesn’t?”

“Well, yes. I am still Christian, but I’m not living a Christian life, and that is where it is different. Before, in Christian life, I felt sad and trapped. Here I am only trapped.”

“What is it that you feel? If not sad.”

“I don’t know what it is, I had never felt it before in my life.”

His head bobbed slowly, glancing about. “Where is Hakon? I was hoping to see him.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring him, I thought that-”

“You thought what?”

You swallowed. “Nothing, I don’t know.”

Hvitserk’s brows furrowed, but he smirked. Soon, food was brought to you, and you were surprised, you expected not to spend so much time with him, and before you could think, it was deep into the night, and you had spent the hours listening to him talk about their battle, and how his brother Ivar scared many of the Saxons.

After weeks, and your cut had finally scarred over completely, you had nothing left to measure the time. Except maybe the progression of Arthur’s life, which was more slow and inconsistent. It was not truly accurate.

It had been long enough for the other prisoners to settle into their new lives, doing random work like preparing food and mending clothes. But you remained solely the caretaker of the baby, and spent most of your time with Hvitserk. Now that Ubbe had left, for reasons Hvitserk did not want to speak of, he gravitated towards you when he grew tired of Ivar. From what you heard, Ivar was scary, and he had quite the ego. You had yet to meet him, only seen him from afar, and you were somewhat glad of your distance.

The others grew tired of how close you were to the Vikings. If they hated you before, they loathed you now. They thought you a traitor, and a whore for the Vikings. While you remained chaste, you shrugged and understood why they might think that. After all, Hvitserk kissed you freely, and you no longer thought much of it, it was expected.

Although, their animosity towards you became worrying after a while. They would sneer at the baby in your arms, and talk with each other suspiciously. You woke one morning to find the youngest of the girls attempting to cut your braid off. You didn’t feel comfortable having Arthur around them, and Hvitserk’s solution made you laugh.

“You’re serious.”

“You and Hakon stay here most nights anyway.” He shrugged.

“Don’t you want any privacy?”

He smiled. “I’m not shy. Are you?”

And it felt like a challenge. “No.”

Hvitserk raised his brows in disbelief. “Right, then you will stay with me. I will set up a place for Hakon.”

The first night proved to you that it was a challenge. You discovered quickly that Hvitserk slept without any cloths, and you slipped into bed beside him, nightgown and blankets between you, and you thought for sure it meant you were to have sex.

Nothing happened, and you were a little disappointed to not have it over with.

When the baby would cry at night, you would both get up, but Hvitserk was usually closer. He would pick up Arthur, and place him on the bed between you both. Your instinct was to curl towards him, rubbing the baby’s tummy in comfort, and Hvitserk would reach over and touch your braid again. After this became typical, waiting for Arthur to fall asleep in the comfort of your presence, you felt courage. You would kiss Arthur on the forehead, after he settled, and kiss Hvitserk’s cheek. Those nights were nice, and you felt instinctively connected to him.

Arthur Hakon could eat solid foods, and stumble about on his own, and you knew it had been too long since you last prayed, when one day the baby could speak. Typical of a child’s first words, he called you ‘ma’, and tears came to your eyes remembering that you were not his mom, his mom was dead.

You were cast into a spell of melancholy, and if your mother were here, she would blame the moon for causing you lunacy. The next morning you awoke, and found blood from the intimate part of your body, and you cried trying to explain to a shield maiden what was wrong, and you needed help containing it. After a while she understood, and helped you well. The shield-maidens were apparently very innovative with their bleeding, and far better at containing it than any Christian women.

Shame flooded you. You cradled Arthur for comfort, but he was growing heavy enough that you had to be sitting to hold him for so long.

While you felt no shame for lack of prayer and penance, you felt shame for the idea of what your family was thinking, looking down on you from heaven. They were probably screaming that you were damned to hell, for being such a terrible Christain woman. You didn’t pray, you slept with and kissed a pagan, and all you thought about was sex all the time. You cared for a child whose real parents were killed, probably by the same pagan that made you smile every morning.

You were done crying when Hvitserk returned from whatever he was doing, but he knew you were unwell. He sat beside you on the bed, taking the baby from your arms, and bouncing him. He brightened when Hakon laughed and called him ‘da’. You smiled, but you still felt sad. “Are you alright?”

You absentmindedly nodded your head. But your thoughts spoke for you. “What am I?”

Hvitserk frowned. “That is hard to answer. What is the context?”

“Am I still Christian?”

“I suppose if you want to be.”

You could not answer that right now. So you shrugged. “Am I a prisoner?”

“No, I don’t think you were ever a prisoner.”

“Then what am I to you?”

He looked away, a smile coming to his face, as if remembering a tender moment from his past. “You are Unryn.”

“What is that?” Your brows furrowed.

“I’m not really sure. I could never understand what it meant, but I know it is supposed to make me feel happy.” He looked back to you, hand coming up to touch your braid. “You make me happy.”

“Then why haven’t you had sex with me?”

Hvitserk looked shocked to hear the words from your mouth, and he laid Hakon back down in his bed. “Ubbe always said I love too easily, I treat it like it means nothing. And he was right. I did not want it to be that way for you. I didn’t want it to mean nothing.”

You thought about what he said. “Your brother was right. You love easily. You kissed me first like you were so comfortable doing so, it is not difficult for you to show affection towards me. Why do you fall in love so easily?”

“I do not like to talk about it.”

You stared at him, and thought to push for answers, but you didn’t care much anymore. “I am Christian.” You started. “I am meant to wait until I am married, and save my virtue for God, whom I feel nothing for. In that way, it already means nothing.” You sighed. “You make me feel happy, that is more than the power of God.”

Hvitserk smiled, picking you up by the waist and spinning you. You laughed. “Then I will take you tonight! And I will do so under the night sky, where your God can see, so he can look down at us and know….” He paused looking into your eyes, you felt his breath on your lips. “You never belonged to him.”

And that night, you went to the hills outside of York, and under the eyes of God, brought to the brink of death. You remain unconquered by it.

_______________________________

You know it had been more than a year now, Arthur had grown enough to begin learning to speak. Both English and Norse.

“Unryn!” He laughed and called after you, it was all he called you now. You considered it your name. It was summer, and it had been long since the English ceased to attack, and Bishop Heahmund, whom you used to attend services with, was at the hands of the Vikings. Now was not the time for politics. There was peace for the first time in a long time in York. More importantly, there was peace in your spirit. “Unryn! You are not going to get away so easily!”

You giggled, keeping your eyes on the fields ahead, and your bare feet were careful not to crush too many daisies. You felt free in your summer clothes, which were not much more than a glorified nightgown, but running made you hot and tired, and yes, you knew you would not get away.

You had snatched up his ax while he wasn’t paying attention, and while you meant nothing of it, just to stamp more runes into the handle, Hvitserk was oddly determined to get it back.

On the brink of giving up, you turned, facing him and saw how quickly he was gaining on you. The ax, covered protectively with leather, you chuck at him, at a last attempt of victory. But he ducked it easily, and it only riled him up more.

You yelped when he picked you up by the waist, and you wrapped your legs around him so as not to fall out of his grip. “Did you really think that would work?” He said out of breath and giddy.

“I had to try something.” And he struggled to get your dress off while holding you. Being summer of course, you had nothing underneath.

Looking behind, you saw the river that you grew up fetching water from. Its cool water was enticing, and Hvitserk probably thought the same. You unlaced his light tunic, pushing it off of his shoulders, and letting it fall onto the riverbank. He set you down slowly, and you stepped back into the water until you could sink into it comfortably at the neck, and you watched him take his trousers off.

Hvitserk sunk into the water, gravitating towards you instantly, like the only thing that belonged in his arms was you. He leaned back against the brook, and you sat on his lap, taking his lips. You moaned, his hands traveling the expanse of your body, and you savored the feeling of each other.

The both of you kissed, and while you did so often, each time felt different. It felt better. Your fingers undid the braids in his hair, and he dipped below the surface to get it wet, shaking and splashing you as he came back up.

Laying back to get your hair wet too, Hvitserk massaged your scalp, and kissed down your chest. You felt a wet fabric brush up against your side, and you realized that your dress had ended up in the river with both of you. He looked down at you apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, in a fit of passion he’d thrown your dress hard enough it went into the water. “It’s ok.” You smiled, rising from the water and snatching up his tunic. You did up the laces and it was big enough on you to fit like a short dress.

Hvitserk joined you, laying on the grass. He took time, putting his trousers back on, just enjoying the sun. You picked daisies while he lied next to you, his hand coming up your back and down your arm, stopping your flower picking by taking your hand. Hvitserk sat up, and kissed you behind your ear. “You make me happy.” He whispered, and it was something he said a lot, a simple phrase that meant the world.

You leaned over, touching your head to his, and breathing the warm fresh air, and you thought about why you never tried to leave with the Saxon army all those years ago, and while he would not understand, you said it out loud. “I do not want a Christian life, I want this one. I want the life I built with you in my dreams.”

Hvitserk turned around so you could do his braids, although his hair was still a little damp. It was mostly you who did them now, why you had gotten so much better, but you felt bad for taking that away from Ivar. You never spoke to the man, but you knew the love of their brotherhood was deep and complex. It was not something you wanted to come in between, and yet, Ivar did not often get the chance to braid his brother's hair.

There was a pang in your chest at that thought, but Hvitserk preferred not to think of Ivar when he spent time with you, so you continued to braid his hair, weaving little daisies into it secretly, he wouldn’t know.

You smoothed over the braids when you were finished, smiling at how they felt in the palms of your hands, and he turned to do a few of yours. You never wore more than two or three small ones. It was a culture that you took part in because you loved him, but not necessarily one you felt honor enough to join fully.

“You are very pretty.” Hvitserk said, threading your last braid. You blushed. “You are prettier than Freyja.”

“I thought she was supposed to be the prettiest of all the gods?” You smirked.

“Yes….but you are not a god, and she is not mine.” Hvitserk was searching your eyes, a small smile on his face. “You are Unryn.”

And still neither of you knew what he meant by that. You could not decide if he considered it a name, or as an object as he just used it. But everytime he used it, your heart fluttered, and you felt at home.

He kissed you again, innocently this time, and you could hear the pitter patter of approaching footsteps. “Dada!!!! I found you!!!”

“Hakon!” Hvitserk exclaimed, holding out his arms and preparing for the attack from the little one. Arthur was carrying a small wooden sword, but he dropped it completely in favor of jumping into Hvitserk’s lap. He groaned at being hit so forcefully in the stomach, but did not show Arthur that it hurt him. “Dear Odin! You’re so much bigger than this morning.”

“I am?!”

“Yes, you are almost big enough to lift Thor’s hammer!” He said, flipping the giggling child onto the ground and poking at his sides. Almost in retaliation, Arthur poked at one of Hvitserk’s newer tattoos. He grimaced and surrendered. “Ok, ok, you defeated me.”

You chuckled. “I think you deserved that one.” You brushed bits of grass out of the boy's long blond hair, it was getting too long now, and it would soon have to be out of the way. “Arthur?”

“Yes ma?”

“Will you pick more flowers for daddy's hair?”

Hvitserk frowned. “More flowers?”

But the child was already off on his mission. “Yes! More flowers! More flowers!”

You watched him run off, smiling, and felt Hvitserk’s dark silence, watching him too. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, sitting up, and taking your hand. “Ivar wants to meet him.”

But it has been almost four years, not even you have truly met Ivar. You have seen him, yet never conversed, Hvitserk kept you away enough. “But why?”

“I do not know. I asked him the same thing. He said ‘oh, why wouldn’t I want to meet my brother’s son?’” he mocked almost seriously. “And he was so cocky too. Then I reminded him that Hakon is not really my son, and we argued-”

“Hey-” You calmed him, touching his cheek, and facing you. “He is your son.”

Hvitserk was caught, looking into your eyes, and Arthur ran back up with a handful of daisies. “Yeah, Hakon Hvvvvvvisss-erson.”

You laughed. “Hvit-serk-son.” You pronounced slowly.

“Hvvvis-sssser-son.” He tried again, giggling when he knew he did not get it right.

“You will get it someday.” Hvitserk said, pulling the child into his lap. Arthur counted out the daisies he picked one by one, dropping them into Hvitserk’s palm. “I will be there the whole time.” He said, either reassuring you, or himself. “He will be fine.”

And you waited for their return hours into the night. You busied yourself with stamping more runes and sayings into Hvitserk’s ax, and you admit to getting carried away. The thoughts in your head repeated themselves, ideas of what they could possibly be doing. Your infant son, in the hands of Ivar the Boneless.

Many there are who fear him. Your fear of him only stemmed from what you had heard of him. Truly, there was no reason to be afraid. You had seen him for years now in York, you had seen him with Hvitserk, and he had silently nodded towards you from across the dining halls.

But you also had no frame of humanity for him. He was a silent figure that you knew nothing about, and Hvitserk was often made tired of him. It was always confusing how Hvitserk felt for his brother Ivar. He was either made excited by him, or made angry of him.

You stamped the ax until there was no longer space, and you frowned. There was so much more you wanted to add. And in that moment you forgot about Arthur at the mercy of Ivar the Boneless.

The door to your little home burst open, and Arthur came running through, jumping on the bed. “Ma, look!” He said excitedly, pointing at his hair. “Uncle Ivar did my hair!”

It was intricately braided, and you remembered how years ago Hvitserk told you Ivar was the best at braiding. It was truly beautiful work, and intricately woven with runic beads that you often saw in Ivar’s own hair, and a few of the daisies you and Arthur had picked earlier.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! Did you have fun with dada and uncle Ivar today?” You wondered why they had spent so much time together and saw Hvitserk standing by the door with a bowl of blackberries, watching the both of you with a small smile.

“Yes, he taught me how to play games, and he and dada told me stories about their home, and the rest of my family, like grandad Ragnar.” He pointed at Hvitserk. “Uncle Ivar even gave me a gift. See!”

Hvitserk pulled out a long throwing dagger from his boot. “I already told him he has to wait until he knows how to use it.”

“Which will be soon! I know it!” The child started bouncing on the bed. “Ivar told me that he started training to be a viking not much older than me. Floki taught him! And grandad Ragnar taught dada.”

“That is very good Arthur, I’m glad you had a nice night with Ivar.” You picked him up, truly happy and surprised.

But Arthur wiggled out of your grasp. “But that is not all ma! He even gave you a gift. Here!”

Even Hvitserk looked surprised. When did Ivar slip a gift to Arthur without him noticing?

Arthur unlooped something from his belt, and handed it to you. You frowned. “His arm ring?”

“No, uncle Ivar wears grandad Ragnar’s arm ring, but he kept this one for years too. He says it belonged to a man named Athelstan.”

“Athelstan? But that is a Christian name.”

“Yes! See! Ivar said, even Christains can be friends with vikings. Athelstan was Ragnar’s friend, he gave Athelstan a ring. He wants you to wear it now.”

You huffed, slipping Athelstan’s arm ring onto your wrist. “Alright.” The boy was slowly losing his energy, and you settled him in his own bed. “You’ve had quite a day, time to rest.” And you pulled the daisies out of his braids so as to not crush them while he slept.

Hvitserk settled next to you in bed, dim candle light illuminating his features. “I had forgotten about Athelstan for so long. He died when I was young, but….he did seem to help raise us. Ragnar was very close to him….”

“I’m glad it went well.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah, me too.” Hvitserk picked up his ax, feeling the weight of it, and examining the work you had done on it. He chuckled. “You were busy.”

“I got a little excited.” You looked to see his reactions. “Read them….”

Hvitserk ran an index finger over the runes, symbols, and different letters as he read them. “This one- it’s a snake.”

“Yes, for Sigurd. And his ‘snake eyes’.” You mocked his voice. “That was how you said you teased him. And look, there is for Bjorn.”

Beside the small snake symbol, there was a simple indentation of a bear's claw. You could see tears glistening in his eyes, and you wondered if putting so much on the ax was a good idea after all, but he continued to read it. “Are there more? For my family?”

You leaned over, pointing at the three rings at the base of the leather, and the hardest ones to do. “These circled knots, the top one is for your mother. It is the Wyrd, because her powers of sight determine you bound by fate.”

He huffed. “Whatever fate that may be.”

You continued. “The second is for Ragnar, the Valknut of warriors fallen in battle. And the last is for your brother Ubbe. It is Odin’s spear of elder protection and authority.”

He read one of the inscriptions allowed. “Ber er hver að baki nema sér bróður eigi.”

“‘Bare is the back of a brotherless man.’ That one is for Ivar, because you chose to stay with him, of all your brothers.”

“And I’m starting to wonder why.” He said bitterly, but you ignored it. Hvitserk eyed the next ones curiously. “Runes of Freyja?”

“Yes, Fehu, Berkana, and Sowilo. Creation, protection, and acceptance. These are Freyja’s base intentions for love….it’s purpose in life.”

He chuckled. “So you do listen when I ramble about the gods.”

“Of course.” You bit your lip. “What does the last one say?”

Hvitserk ran his fingers over the stamped runes in the leather.

ᛇ ᛚᛟᚹ ᛃᚢ

I love you.

A tear fell. “What's wrong? Hvitserk?”

“Ivar told me why he wanted to meet Hakon.”

_______________________________

They were to go back to Norway, after years building a fortress in York, and you were to remain. You wanted to follow him, god you wanted to follow him, but some other divine force had deemed it better to keep you apart.

Probably God. When you were with Hvitserk you questioned God, and he must put an end to that.

You stood at the dock, and he had been stone faced for days. Even now, saying goodbye, he was stone faced and bitter, and you were sobbing. You wanted him to touch you, or comfort you.

Hvitserk stood an arms length away, and his voice shook. “You wanted to know why I loved so easily.”

You hiccupped, and you could feel the end drawing nearer. “No, I don’t want to know anymore.”

He ignored you. “Many have wondered, my brothers, Ubbe especially. They don’t get it, not really.”

You could see tears in his eyes, but he tried to shake them away. “Hvitserk-”

“I always thought, in life, and as Vikings, we only get one chance. Any battle could take me to Odin’s halls. I thought to make the most of it, to live endlessly, love endlessly. I had decided to take every chance given to me, to love someone else. Any one of them could have been my last, but I would have gone to Valhalla a happy man.

“But I had not expected you. I had seen another chance, and like the loving fool I’ve always been ....” He laughed bitterly. “We only get one chance. I will never see you again, I will not enter Odin’s halls without noticing you aren’t there to welcome me with your love. I will not go to Valhalla as a happy man.” He stepped forward and took your face in his hands. “I will not be able to live endlessly.”

You thought of him, and the truth he told. Whether in death or life, you would never meet again. “I am sorry, I didn’t think-”

“No, no, it is not your fault.” He took a small braid, and rubbed it between two of his fingers. Closing his eyes he brought the two of you together. “Never forget, you no longer belong to these people. We will be apart, but I will always love you. You are Unryn.”

Hvitserk kissed you softly. You expected the last thing he gave you to be as crushing and passionate as his spirit, but he only pressed his lips to yours, like you might both shatter to oblivion had it been anymore.

Your mother had described to you, the loss of innocence, and that connection to God, to be a little death. A beautiful, peaceful, painful, and terrifying thing all at once, and that is why it is saved only for Him. But you had given that to Hvitserk, and you still didn’t understand what your mother meant by a little death.

This, this was your little death. He was your connection to a power as great as god. It was beautiful, and peaceful, and you wanted nothing more than to love him for eternity. But knowing it was now beyond your reach, you understand that it is just as beautiful as it is terrifying. He was there, but he belonged to the pagan gods, and he must return to them, and his world. That made it all the more painful.

Your little kiss, your little death, was over after what felt like eternity. “I love you, Unryn. I love you.” He tugged your braid once more, and turned his back.

He hadn’t even given you the chance to say it back. You hadn’t gotten to feel the twining of his hair one last time, as he did, and everything seemed utterly unfair.

You sank to your knees, your face in your hands. Was it even worth crying out for him now? He was gone.

“You are different.”

The voice said above you. You wiped off your face as best you could, trying to hide the shame from your onlooker. Looking up, it was Ivar. You had only seen him from afar until now, and you had never spoken. You didn’t even think he knew you. Many said he was scary, but at the moment he didn’t seem scary at all.

He glanced down at you, a small smile on his face. “I am surprised, you are not at all like the others.”

You struggled to get up, and he helped you by the arm. You knew it was also a struggle for him, and you appreciated his help. “Why do you say I am different?”

He breathed deeply through his nose, licking his lips. “You know, I have only ever wanted to stand.” You looked at him up and down, leaning on his crutch, and he shook his hand. “Yes, literally, but I did not mean that now. Maybe it would be better to say, I have always wanted to stand out.

“Not as a cripple, not even necessarily as a Viking, but as a part of our family. My mother loved me, but only because she felt I needed special attention. Siggy-” He swallowed painfully, and you wondered if he had nicknamed all of his brothers the same way. “Siggy always hated me, I know. And most people thought I felt the same but no. I just gave up on trying to earn his love. Bjorn and I were never close. Ubbe has only felt pity for me, and while it comes from love, it is not what I want. I spent my whole life, seeking my father’s approval-” He huffed to himself. “And on the eve of his death, he reveals to me that I never needed it.

“But Hvitserk. It has always been easiest with Hvitserk. He was the first to spar with me, and treat me truly as a brother, as a man, without prior conditions. And for that, I have always loved him most, of all our family.” Ivar struggled to step forward, and stand in front of you. “But it is also hardest with Hvitserk, because with all my knowledge, I have never known what he feels about me. Mother he misses. He surely misses Siggy even more. Bjorn he admires with every bone in his body, father was the same. And Ubbe, well Ubbe he loved the most.” He shifted his weight on his feet. “So why then, did he choose me?”

You felt lost for words, you didn’t understand where this was going. “I’m sorry Ivar, I don’t know.”

He frowned. “I don’t either. I have never been more confused, but I know that I will spend my life trying to make sure he does not regret his decision.”

“That is good.” You nodded.

“My point is, you are different, because all the other women that he has loved, I’ve seen he feels the same to them as he does to me. Unreadable, confused, conflicted. And here, he calls you Unryn.”

“But he says that it has no meaning, he doesn’t know what it is.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Hvitserk is an idiot. He’s always been an idiot.” He waved towards the braid Hvitserk had given you. “He doesn’t need to know what it means. He knows what it looks like, what it feels like. He knows because my brothers and I grew up with the most powerful example of Unryn, right before our very eyes. Why do you think I gave you Athelstan’s arm ring, hm?

“If he says you are Unryn, there is nothing that will stop you from seeing him again.”

_______________________________

You had moved to Wessex with Arthur, who was now of ten and four years at least. There was a ceaseless period of moving, but the boy had liked the idea of it’s adventures. After York was taken back, and multiple alliances made with several different Viking kingdoms, there was nowhere you couldn’t go in England. Most of your time you had spent raising him in a village in the country, it had a mixed culture of both vikings settling into farming, and other anglo-saxons looking for peace.

You felt comfortable there, wearing your few strands of braids and arm ring, speaking both languages, calling Arthur by both of his titles and teaching him about both of the gods. It was after Hvitserk left, you decided you would give him the choice as he grew, not tie him to one faith as you once were, and struggle with the doubt you continue to face.

But Arthur had the same spirit as his viking father, and he was restless there. He wanted to experience new things, go to new places. He wanted to live endlessly, and you only encouraged that part of him.

So you had moved to Wessex, and it reminded you too much of York before the Northmen had taken it. It was stuffy, and strict in its class system. It was Christian, but in all the worst ways, in the ways that hammered fear into your heart of eternities in hell or the loneliness of purgatory. And you were afraid of the impact it could have on your son. He was scared, but he was determined you both had to be there, and you had to admit to that feeling as well.

It was in church that you had seen him. He was dressed in noble saxon clothing, and he sat next to the King. You did not want to tell Arthur yet, you did not want it to be a cruel devils trick and get his hopes high. But it was him.

“Hvitserk!” You smiled, and your eyes welled. He head snapped up at the name, and he turned to you. He looked grim and tired, but after a moment you saw the face that looked down at you all those years ago in York. The face that was light and happy, and the only thing you had found home in.

He stood from the pew, and rushed toward you down the hall, the whole crowd watching in a scandal. He took your arm and dragged you through the town of Wessex, into a home by the King’s villa.

Upon the closed door, he said to you again “My name is Athelstan. Don’t call me Hvitserk anymore.”

You were silent for a moment, then you couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve told me that once already, Hvitty.”

He huffed, grasping finally that you were here, and this was real. Hvitserk stepped forward and held you in his arms, a crushing embrace, and you never wanted to escape it, let alone end.

Hvitserk only let go to kiss your lips, softly as when he said good bye.

After, you wrapped your arms around him tightly again, as if your life depended on it, and cried into his chest while he stroked your hair. “You still have braids.” He said quietly, and almost unbelievably.

“And you don’t.” Your voice was muffled from his clothes, but he still heard you. “Why is that?”

You could feel Hvitserk shrug against you. “I was baptized, I’m expected not to be like a Viking anymore.”

Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you looked up at him. “Will you let me do them? Please?” Hvitserk looked skeptical about it, but you could feel his heart beating faster, and you knew he wanted them badly. He sat down on the edge of his bed, and you kneeled behind him, starting on a new braid. Looking about the room, you noticed he decorated this new place to look like the home you shared in York. “What happened, Hvitserk?”

“Much….too much.” He drifted off, and you wondered if maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it. “You know, when Ivar was with the Rus, there was no one to braid his hair.” He chuckled at the end. “Because he couldn’t do it by himself. It was kind of sad really, to see that he had no family there to care for him. It was one of the first things I did after he found me.”

You did not understand what he spoke of, but you nodded your head anyway. “I’m sure Ivar was very happy you were there to do his braids. I know he loved you very much.”

“I know….” You slowed working on his braids when you heard his voice get raspy. “We had a conflicted relationship, but I loved him most, of all my brothers.” Hvitserk breathed heavily. “I hope he knew that-”

Hvitserk put his head into his hands, and his shoulders shook. You felt tears well in your eyes, and you worried for him. You stopped, touching his shoulder. “Hvitserk-”

“Please, please don’t call me that. It is not my name anymore.”

“Hvitserk, what happened?”

“They buried him….” He whispered. “He did not even get to ride beside the Valkyries in a boat to Valhalla. Ivar was the only one of us, who deserved most to go to Valhalla, and they buried him like some Christian-”

You got up in front of him and held him to your chest, and this time it was Hvitserk clinging to your dress. He kept speaking. “It was all he wanted. It’s all any of us wanted. He should have had a funeral worthy of a god.”

You thought of the one time you spoke to Ivar. “Do you think that’s really what he would’ve wanted?”

Hvitserk was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. He used to want a lot of things. He wanted to stand, he wanted to fight, he wanted a woman to love him….He never needed any of it. Ivar was not the kind of man who needed a woman to approve of him, and when he did, it hurt him more than his broken legs. I don’t know what he wanted anymore, after all the others were gone. I know he wanted to be a god.

“But Ivar was not a god, he was not even really a mortal man….”

You frowned, tears falling. “What was he then?”

“Ivar was my brother. It was all he ever needed to be.”

_______________________________

You worried for Hvitserk, living together in Wessex. He did seem happier with you there, and he was a father to Arthur, just as he had been before. But he wasn’t the same.

You found his old things, the clothing he must have worn on the day of that battle, and his ax. It was all in a chest under the bed. It was folded neatly and lovingly, and Ivar’s crutch laid just behind it. Hvitserk would look at them some days, whether fondly, or longingly, you couldn’t tell.

He always seemed sickly, and tired, haunted by all that had happened, and all that Christianity was teaching him. It is hard to go from a faith that lifts you up and teaches you glory, to one that weighs you down and teaches you sin.

You knew that he could live like this for years, surviving in the past and you were there to help hold him up, but he would never feel peace again.

You worried, and you thought he needed more family, someone more familiar to him. A piece of his world that he didn’t watch died before his eyes, and was damned by Christianity.

So you wrote a letter to the only Ragnarson you knew was left.

Ubbe.

_______________________________

“What happens if you can not get into Valhalla?”

Hvitserk toyed with your fingers, arm stretched towards the stars, and tracing the shadows of the gods in the night sky. It was the only part of your naked body unprotected with fur, and Hvitserk was so used to that bitter stinging of winter air, he had no issues with it, the hand holding up your arm and toying with your fingers warmed you. You thought about how similar this moment felt to when you first had sex with him, years ago.

He thought for a moment. “Once, in Kattegat, when Ivar ruled, a man told me about his god. How his god makes people try again until he is appeased with them.” He chuckled. “Maybe the gods will just spit you back out if you are not worthy of Valhalla.”

You hummed, it was an interesting thought, but one you considered fairly unlikely. “And what do you do to please the gods? If they send you back?”

He shrugged. “Probably the same as before. Fight in great battles, tell glorious stories, bear sons in their names, sacrifices, die with honor as a great warrior in battle. That’s the price of Valhalla.”

You frowned. “It seems like a lot to ask.” Those things are what most vikings want in life, what Hvitserk wanted most from his life. What did you want from your life? “What if they just want you to be happy?”

He laughed more deeply now. “What would make me happy is to go to Valhalla. See my brothers there, fight and feast with the gods.” Hvitserk brought your arms down, under the furs, and turned to face you, his other arm a pillow for your head. He frowned. “But that is not possible for me now. What would God do if we did not appease him?”

“Send us to hell I suppose.” You said frankly, and interestingly unaffected.

Hvitserk scowled. “Seems like a dreadful fate, especially for you, a girl that has done little to deserve it. Even if I did not make it to Valhalla, I would at least go to Fólkvangr.”

You giggled. “I would rather be sent back, that much is true.”

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I do not feel truly Christian, but I have lost favor of the gods, so I will not be going to Valhalla, or Heaven. I do not know where I will be going.” Your heart sped up when he spoke, and you couldn’t understand why. “But you are Unryn, that is the only thing I have faith in now.

“Wherever I am going, you are there.”

_______________________________

When you found him, he was laid on the bed, hands clasped gently on his stomach, and his ax lay across his chest like a trophy. His braids were done tightly, and decorated with runic beads and raven feathers. He wore his old armor, the chest empty on the floor. Ivar’s crutch was next to him on the bed.

His eyes were closed peacefully like in sleep, but there was blood from his nose, ears, and lips.

You started screaming, but there was no use. He would not return at the sound of your cries. And Arthur, seemingly wise beyond his years, cried as well, but had an understanding for his father’s passing, and he remained unangered by how sudden and unfair it all was.

While the King was ready to hold the funeral, something told you to wait.

And Ubbe arrived two days later. He found you, and Arthur, protectively watching the home where his body lay.

Arthur greeted Ubbe first, and he introduced himself by his Viking name, Hakon. Ubbe had some familiarity towards Hakon, but he did not seem to remember you. “And you, what is your name?”

Your heart hurt at his question, because your first thought was not of your own name. “Unryn.” You told him.

Ubbe was startled. “That is a Viking word. You are not Viking.”

“No, you’re right. I am not Viking.”

Ubbe continued to look at you, observing, and somehow understanding. “But you are not Christian.”

Your voice shook, it was the first time you realized as well that you had not considered yourself Christian for a long time, years maybe. “No.”

“If you are not Viking, and you are not Christian, then what are you?”

You took a deep breath, almost fading away, and remembered a time in York, when you saw a life you wanted for yourself and Hvitserk. “I am looking for something. Something I won’t find here, something I won’t find today, or tomorrow. But I will go anywhere to find what I am looking for. My son and I would like to follow you, if that’s alright.”

Ubbe nodded. “Yes, of course. Is there any way I can help you find this….whatever it is you are looking for.”

“No, I don’t think you can actually.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not even sure it exists.” You cried again, thinking about it, but Arthur was at your side, and you could only think about the first time Hvitserk had smiled at you. “There is something we must do before we leave. We must fix something, for the sake of your brothers.”

It was announced that the King had died of his own illness the next morning, and so the funerals would be held on the same day. Ubbe’s hair had been cut that morning, you didn’t know why. But you and Ubbe first, found Ivar’s burial ground, you began your work before the sun rose.

And when you dug up his bones, you could only think….

Here is the grave of the most famous Viking who ever lived.

Ivar’s body had spent years here rotting, and you gagged at the sight and smell. But you swallowed the feeling down, and only thought of him as your family. You cleaned his body, and gathered any belongings left at the site, Ubbe carried him to the docks, where Hvitserk already waited in a boat Ubbe could spare.

They laid side by side, on a bed of hay and thistles, and as per tradition, a horse's head was left at the front of the boat for the Valkyries. You caught a glimpse of King Alfred before he was buried, and saw that Ubbe had braided some of his own hair into the Kings.

You kissed Hvitserk on the forehead one last time, and thought about leaving Athelstan’s arm ring with him, but you felt you needed it.

The boat departed at sunset, and the tide and wind brought the brothers out to sea smoothly. The arrows set them aflame, and you could feel deep in your bones, like Ivar had finally departed this world and gone to Valhalla with Ragnar.

Hvitserk, you did not know, but you could not help feeling like soon you and Ubbe would be following him, both literally when Ubbe took you and Hakon to his Golden land, and spiritually.

Hvitserk had left on a boat today, and this time, you were going to find him.

_______________________________

“Oh my god. Take the register.”

“No.”

“Please take the register. I’m begging you. If you don’t take the register, I’m going to have to talk to them.”

“And if I take the register they’ll switch, and I’ll have to talk to his brother, and he’ll just bother you by the espresso machine anyway. Just get over yourself and talk to him.” You pushed Alfred to the register and ran behind the espresso machine while they got closer to the door.

“No- please, please don’t leave me-” The door chimed and Alfred snapped into customer service mode, pretending all was well. “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

You chuckled to yourself, already starting the order. You could hear Alfred stuttering in the distance, and you felt a presence step up to you on the other side of the bar. Your body shook, but you also felt excited. “Hello again.” He smiled at you.

“Hi.” You smiled back, small and shaky. He wore a muscle tank top and a beanie over his long hair, weird combination but it suited him. “Your brother’s not getting much luck over there is he.”

That laugh, it was warm, and you looked forward to it at work. “No, he really isn’t, but I’m not getting much luck over here either so….all's fair I suppose.”

You looked at him finally. “Who says you're not getting any luck?” You smirked.

His head shook fondly. “I know you from somewhere else, I swear to god.”

Not with this again. “I’ve not met you outside this café, Hvitserk.”

“Then how do you know my name?! Huh? Explain that to me.”

“Because we ask for it when you order.” You said, finishing a drink and placing it on the counter in front of him. “That’s Ubbe's, don't drink it.”

He was frowning, Hvitserk was always determined to figure out where else he had seen you before, but you had never met. “Aren’t you supposed to wear a name tag?” He said in retaliation.

You shrugged. “Yes, but I never thought my name sounded right when others would say it, so I just don’t wear one.”

Hvitserk sighed. “Ok, so maybe I don’t know you….” Then he looked mischievous. “But can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I know you?”

“Um….how?”

“Go out with me.”

You smiled, playing with him. “If I say no?”

“Then I’ll come back here and bother you till the day you die.”

“And if I quit my job?”

“Then I will just kidnap you and hold you prisoner.”

You burst out laughing. “You? You will kidnap me? You’re too sweet though.”

Hvitserk feigned offense at this. “No I’m not! I have an ax, you know!”

“Oh, an ax! You're gonna make me chop wood while I’m your prisoner?”

“No, that’s not-” He sighed. “You know my brother says we’re descended from Vikings?”

“Ohhh, really?” Your voice was over exaggerated and you always were happier when Hvitserk was around.

“Yes, come on. If you go out with me I can braid your hair.” He said almost too seriously.

Unsure as to why, you felt like your heart stopped. You thought for a moment, and rubbed your fingers across the metal bracelet you always wore. You always wore it, and it had been so long that you didn’t know whose it really was or where it came from. “Ok, I will go out with you, but only because I don’t know how to braid hair.”

Hvitserk’s face brightened. “Good, I can teach you.”

And his voice was soft.

_______________________________

It all came crashing back on a night that, in any other circumstance, would feel normal. We had been together for years now and moved in a few months ago. I was tossing and turning, couldn’t sleep, and for some reason the Our Father repeated in my head, and I couldn’t even get through the whole thing without sobbing and starting over. I hadn’t prayed since I met Hvitserk.

I eventually left the bed and layed down on the couch, curling up for warmth but not even allowing myself the courtesy of a blanket. A small form of self punishment that was enough to break my heart. Our Father had played out into what felt like an endless Hail Mary.

After some time, Hvitserk came out and crouched in front of me, a hand touching my cheek. He smiled “Hey look at me. You’ll be alright, I swear.” And he repeated it, settling in behind me on the couch, and holding me around the waist.

The last thing I heard drifting off to sleep was Hvitserk’s voice, and he called me “Unryn.” I faded away, for the last time, and saw the life I had lived before. The ceaseless search for that happiness, that peace, and how we almost had that. We both almost had that.

I remembered what I had seen in his face, infinity, ending in this, and wondering if it was heaven. If this is heaven, when did I truly die? Was it from the plague? Or from my wound? Or countless years later after I had left my old life behind and went searching for this one with Ubbe.

And if this were heaven, then where is God? No, I know this isn’t heaven. Here it’s just as easy to love as it is to break and it’s beautiful either way. If this were heaven, I would not have had him, God would have separated us, and our love would have been as finite as life was believed to be. There is no God, only us.

We are infinite. How many lives have I spent searching for this? How many near misses, deaths, and tragedies have we suffered since the day I lost my home to the Northmen in York? How many years did I spend not knowing I had built a home for myself in a face that smiled at me once from above, or across the room, or passing on the street? I only remember my first life and this one, so how long did we spend in between, unhappy and alone, and unknowing of the life we had already built together.

I know now, there are endless possibilities, and I don’t even know what comes next. If this is the end, what happens when we die? Our love is infinite, and our Gods lack the power to keep us apart. So if we can not be separated by heaven and Valhalla, do we just start again?

Does it matter at all?

No, actually.

I don’t care.

Many there are that fear eternity, I did as well. I was taught that eternity was always my fate. That God would damn me to an eternity in hell for my sins, or an eternity in heaven away from him. But I have seen eternity. Eternity is the warmth of his arms, reaching for the gods. It is the feeling of his braids between the pads of my fingers. It feels like picking up an ax is the same as holding his hand. Love is eternity, ending in this.

And now I am sure it does end somewhere, because Ivar was not in this life as Ubbe was. And Hvitserk had once told me, in my old life, that Ivar never needed the love of another, only his brothers. Nor have I heard of any Ragnar, nor of any Athelstan.

Be it Valhalla, or Heaven, I love Hvitserk, and if he had left on a boat today, I would be with him.

♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱♱

A/N: There we go guys, if by small chance (and I mean really really small chance) you have possible read my other work before this, you might have seen some things. Yes, I'm saying this vaguely on purpose, because it was meant to be vague. Of course, this is stand alone, there are no further obligations, but in the case that you know, well then you know. Wow *Owen Wilson Voice*

Even still, despite that, anybody draw any parallels with in this fic itself?

Thanks guys for reading, and I'll see you next year in February for some more reader inserts with some different ships. For now I will be returning to my main game, which is quite honestly gay. You can check any of those out if you want to, but there's only a few at the moment, because we all know over here......

I write very sloooooowwwwwwllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

#original work #fanfic #mature #vikings #hvitserk/reader #hvitserk #reader insert #ubbe #ivar the boneless #alfred #original character #ragnar lothbrok #athelstan #sigurd #bjorn #aslaug #fluff #fluff and angst #angst #implied sex #references to norse religion and lore #religious conflict #religious guilt #emotional hurt/comfort #character death #tw: implied/referenced suicide #no beta: we go to valhalla

[lokiondisneyplus]

Warning: This post contains spoilers for Loki episode 5.

The penultimate episode of Loki introduced several new variations on its titular mischief-maker — including Jack Veal's Kid Loki, Deobia Oparei's Boastful Loki, and Tom Hiddleston's ill-fated President Loki. But of all these new faces, perhaps the most memorable was Richard E. Grant's aptly-named Classic Loki — an older, world-weary version of the Asgardian god we know and love.

Decked out in the familiar green-and-yellow suit from the comics, Grant's Loki is older and perhaps a bit wiser than his younger counterparts. Years of isolation have left him disillusioned and lonely, missing his brother Thor, but that spark of mischief is still buried deep underneath — and he ultimately sacrifices himself to help Loki (Hiddleston) and Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino) escape the Void.

It's a delightful showcase for the 64-year-old Grant, who says he's thrilled to be able to carve out his own chaotic corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Ahead of the series finale this week, EW caught up with Grant to break down his big sacrifice — as well as his newfound friendship with Owen Wilson and his pitch for a Loki spin-off series.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: To start, I have to ask about your costar: How was working with Alligator Loki?

RICHARD E. GRANT: Alligator Loki was fantastic because in reality, he was three stuffed sofa cushions that had been sewn roughly together to react to. [Laughs] The fact that I was the only person that could understand what he was saying was just fantastic. I think it's the perfect segue into having Classic Old Loki and Alligator Loki as a sub-series to go to next.

So it's safe to say that you would be willing to reprise this character down the line?

If I had a muscle suit, most certainly. I was denied that. I saw the costume design, and I was very familiar with Jack Kirby's original illustrations from the '60s, so I thought, "Ah, this guy's got muscles!" As I had been born without any, I was finally going to get in a muscle suit. I got to Atlanta [to begin filming], and they said, "There's no muscle suit! You're just wearing this!" I said, "But I look like Kermit the Frog!" They said, "Nope, you're not having a muscle suit." So I was very, very upset about that. [Laughs] Short-changed!

I was going to ask about your first impression when you first put on the costume!

That's what I asked: Where are the muscles? Where are the Stallone/Schwarzeneggers here? Because they're missing! This is what people will expect! This was in the costume drawing, and they're not here, and I don't have them! I was very upset.

When they first asked you to join the show, what was that initial pitch like?

I had known Tom Hiddleston socially for some years, and we'd always joked that we could feasibly play father and son because of our vague physical similarities and hairlines, certainly. So when I got this offer at the beginning of last year, before COVID, I thought, "Alright, this is that moment that I had hoped would come at some point." I thought I would play his father, but I'm playing a variant of him. So that's how that came about. I was thrilled.

Tom has been playing his version of Loki for a decade now. Did you get any guidance from him, or have any conversations with him that you found particularly helpful?

He is a walking Loki-pedia, so he was very, very informative about the whole etymology and the history of the Norse gods and Loki. He's also brilliant at imitating people. He goes on chat shows and imitates famous actors absolutely to the letter. I don't have that talent. So when I read the script of episode 5 that I was offered, I saw that [this older version of Loki] described himself in his backstory of being the god of outcasts — rather than the god of mischief, which is so absolutely embedded in Tom's interpretation of the role. So I thought, well, [if he's] the god of outcasts and is somebody who's been isolated for years and living on these planets and is willing to betray himself by going back and being arrested by the TVA and making the ultimate sacrifice, offering himself up to Asgard, I thought, well, this is somebody who is more in the twilight zone of his life, as am I. As opposed to a young man, who's full of mischief still.

So, I thought that was a way into interpreting this character, rather than trying to do — and something I couldn't possibly succeed at doing — a pale imitation of Tom Hiddleston.

I'd imagine that would be tricky, but it would also be a fun challenge: You're basically sharing scenes with all these different versions of the same character.

Exactly right. And I love the fact that he was the one person who could communicate with the alligator. I love that.

So would you now consider yourself fluent in alligator?

Indeed. I am the Doctor Dolittle of the Marvel universe when it comes to speaking to alligators. I speak alligator fluently. Put that in the contract of when I'm doing a series as Classic Old Loki, with muscles and the alligator. It'll have subtitles, so the audience can hear what the alligator is saying, and everyone else is saying, "What is he saying? What is he talking about?" That'll be the way.

I also wanted to ask about your big finale, where we see your Loki conjure Asgard. What do you remember most about filming that final moment?

Huge wind machines, blue screen in every direction, and following a camera on a crane that was maneuvering around the ceiling of the studio, and then swooping down. I was having to shout at it, and then finally laugh in the face of my own immolation. So it was a great thing to do, with these huge air turbine wind machines that were blowing four tons of air at me from every direction. It was exhilarating.

Did you have any practical elements around you at all, or did you have to imagine and conjure it all yourself?

Most of it you had to imagine. The actual landscape that you walked on was real grass and this sort of rocky landscape, but all the other elements — all the ships and all that stuff — was put in afterwards. We didn't see any of that.

The Loki palace that looked like a sort of bowling alley, that was all for real. Everything that you see in that scene was actually built and practical.

Was it chaotic to film in the bowling alley with all those different versions of Loki, bickering and bantering?

Because there was so much action involved, it was paint-dryingly slow, because action takes much longer to do than five pages of dialogue. I prefer talking, as I'm not exactly an action man, as you can see. [Laughs]

Was there anything about joining the Marvel universe that you weren't expecting or that really surprised you?

I didn't expect to find true love with Owen Wilson. We're having a surrogate baby together in October.

Oh, congratulations!

He was just so hilarious to work with. He's just one of the greatest characters I've ever met. He is so open and curious and amenable, with this sort of dry sense of humor. There seemed to be no divide between Owen Wilson acting his part and then just being Owen Wilson. I don't know if he was scamming me, but he was an absolute delight. I loved him.

Was there a particularly memorable day on set with him?

Yes, when we conceived our twins. [Laughs] No, my daughter encouraged me to post this thing on Twitter and Instagram, where he said, "Richard, I'm going to give you some acting advice. Put your camera on." I said, "Yes, okay!" I owe him for that because it got like 640,000 views already in a few days, which on my Instagram feed is off the chart. It's nothing for Beyoncé, but for mine, I'm pretty gobsmacked.

#Richard E. Grant #Classic Loki #Alligator Loki #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #tom hiddleston #interview

[insanityclause]

SPOILER ALERT: This article contains details of the first five episodes of Disney+’s Loki, & maybe the finale. Maybe.

EXCLUSIVE: “I have learned, at this point, having said goodbye to the character more than twice, two and a half times maybe, to make no assumptions,” says Loki’s Tom Hiddleston as the hours tick away to the finale of the Disney+ series drops early on Wednesday morning. “We’ll see where the ride goes now,” the Marvel alum adds.

As always with almost any project from the Kevin Feige run studio, that ride could continue, at least in some form or another. Certainly, the June 9 ‘Glorious Purpose’ premiere of the Michael Waldron penned and Kate Herron directed Loki proved to be the Disney+ and the MCU’s biggest small screen success so far. Also with any Marvel project, past Emmy winner Hiddleston was elusive on what could be coming next, be it in the Loki finale, another season or another appearance in the movies as the MCU shifts into its next phrase.

One thing is clear, after a decade playing the God of Mischief, Hiddleston still has a lot of Loki on the brain, in the best way.Leading towards the finale, I chatted with a UK-based Hiddleston about returning to play Loki and the search for who or what controls the seemingly all knowing, all powerful Time Variance Authority. The Night Manager star also spoke about filming during the coronavirus pandemic, working with Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Wunmi Mosaku, Richard E. Grant, and Sophia Di Martino, who portrays variant and soulmate Sylvie, and his upcoming AppleTV+ series The Essex Serpent with Claire Danes.

DEADLINE: There’s a great line in this season’s penultimate episode where your Loki and Sylvie are stunned at watch Richard E. Grant’s Classic Loki recreate Asgard to distract Alioth and you say “I think we’re stronger than we realize.” There seems to be a great resonance in the line that there’s a whole lot of Loki coming in the finale and probably more …

HIDDLESTON: I suppose it resonates with the theme that we all wanted to highlight about purpose and about meaning. Loki’s someone who’s probably been deluded by the idea that he’s burdened with glorious purpose, and that perhaps that purpose has been revealed to be fraudulent or meaningless, and maybe his self-image or the role that he has condemned himself to play is redundant.

His experiences through this story have shown him that there are actually more opportunities available to him, and you know, it speaks to this idea, like, can we change? Can we evolve, and in that evolution, is there room to grow? You know, so, I think the stronger than we realize I think is Loki finally understanding that, really, by caring for other people, that maybe there’s power in that, and I found that very touching, and the whole thing is an extraordinary dream.

DEADLINE: Speaking of an extraordinary dream, you have been playing Loki for a decade now, since the first Thor movie, We know you are going to do some voice work in the animated What If…? series, but how has it been having this series directly centering on him, in all his variants, so to speak?

HIDDLESTON: You know Dominic, I have enjoyed it so much, because I felt it was a gift and a privilege to be invited to come and sit at the table and think about what the show might be. Also, I suppose so many of the things that I’ve discovered about Loki as a character in the comics and a character in the Norse myths, in the canon, aspects that I’ve always thought were interesting, and understandably, there hasn’t been time or space in the movies to explore them.

DEADLINE: In terms of who he is?

HIDDLESTON: Those aspects of him have been externalized and embedded into this new story about identity itself and about integrating the disparate fragment of the many selves that he is or perhaps the many selves that we are. You know, we contain multitudes. Loki certainly contains multitudes. We have met many of those multitudes, including Alligator Loki (laughs).

DEADLINE: Sounds like you’re not done with those multitudes yet. From your POV, from conversations with Kevin (Feige) is there more that you see for the character as the MCU heads into its next stages?

HIDDLESTON: Well, I certainly don’t have Kevin’s brain or encyclopedic knowledge or capacity for invention. I’ve been on the ride for a while, and it’s been the most extraordinary journey, and to have lived through different iterations, different phases of the MCU, and I’m so grateful that I’m still here, and it’s been amazing to watch. I feel that the MCU is even more expansive, is even braver, more inclusive than it’s ever been.

DEADLINE: How so?

HIDDLESTON: I think the stories are getting really exciting. Not that they weren’t before, but I think they understand that the investment of the audience is very deep, and they don’t take it for granted for a second. So, yeah, I suppose the perspective I have on how Loki might affect the ongoing course of the MCU is this idea of the multiverse. People have already understood it when Miss Minutes is introducing Loki to the TVA. She talks about the multiverse and the war and that the sacred timeline, which is reality as we know it.

DEADLINE: It opens up the aperture certainly for new stories from all opportunities, doesn’t it?

HIDDLESTON: It raises questions of, well, maybe there are other parallel or alternate universes. Maybe there are other realities, and the possibilities there are endless. I feel that at the end of episode five, Loki and Sylvie are close to discovering the answers to the questions that they have of who is behind the TVA and that, somehow, this will provoke even more curiosity about…

DEADLINE: …Because in the Marvel Universe, answering one set of questions always leads to another set of questions, in many ways.

HIDDLESTON: Right. Yeah. Yeah, and I know that there are lots of, you know, interesting titles of movies that’ve been announced, which kind of hint at where it might be going.

DEADLINE: One of those that hasn’t been officially announced, but is rumored is a Season 2 for Loki, in gear under the temporary title of Architect on call sheets and the like …

HIDDLESTON: Well, yes, maybe, as I say, all the kind of multiple alternate realities are …it’s taken me 10 years to get a handle on this sort of mono timeline. The idea that this might be a multiverse is actually beyond my knowledge of physics.

DEADLINE: Well, I doubt that, but let me ask, and no spoilers for the finale or further, but if Kevin, Marvel, Disney asked you to do more Loki, are you game?

HIDDLESTON: (laughs) I have learned, at this point, having said goodbye to the character more than twice, two and a half times maybe, to make no assumptions. So, I’m also aware that I’m only playing him because of the audience, really. So, it’s not up to me. But I do love playing him, and every time, I seem to find new, interesting things about him. So, yeah, I’m a temporary passenger on Loki’s journey, but we’ll see. We’ll see where the ride goes now.

DEADLINE: On the ride, as the finale looms, there’s a ton of fan speculation out there and so much that people have hooked on to from the show. So, as the man at the center of it, what was your favorite part of Loki the series?

HIDDLESTON: That there was meaning in the making of it.That we crossed the finish line in the middle of a global pandemic and could create something, and more than ever, I felt really grateful for being able to do this job. I think in this there are some of those questions that we were all asking ourselves in the last 18 months in the show, you know, what do our lives mean?📷I love taking Loki in new directions. I love the contributions of my fellow actors, of Owen Wilson and Sophia Di Martino and Richard E. Grant and Gugu Mbatha-Raw, and Wunmi Masaku, they all brought so much to the table, and I’ll always remember that. You know, I’ll always remember just being in Atlanta with all of them and making our bonkers show. Yeah.

DEADLINE: Making your bonkers show in Atlanta as the world, as America was still in the heat of the pandemic. What was that like, because you were in production and then everything stopped and then you came back, right?

HIDDLESTON: I mean, people have used this word a lot, but it really was unprecedented. I think we did six weeks of filming before the hiatus, and then the production was suspended for four or five months, and we came back. At first, it was unfamiliar because we had to make adjustments, but the thing I remember most of all, quite honestly, is the diligence and resilience and spirit of our cast and crew.

DEADLINE: Really?

HIDDLESTON: Yes, and it remains extremely special for me, this project, for that reason.For me, it just demonstrated the character of these amazing people. It took a huge amount of planning and care and looking after each other. By that, I mean, being in the bubble. So, for many of us, the only other human beings we saw, really, were each other. So, we came to work, and we became a team, and the circumstances fostered this extraordinary team spirit, and so the memory of making it is really my incredible and deep respect and affection for my fellow filmmakers. People like Trish Stanard, our line producer. Richard Graves, our first AD. Kristina Peterson, our second AD. Autumn Durald, DP. Kevin Wright, our supervising producer, and so many others making sure everyone could stay safe and look after each other.It’s really…I find it…it’s very moving, and it’s remarkable, and I just want to salute them all because I couldn’t have done any of it without them.

DEADLINE: In that vein, you have just come off filming The Essex Serpent with Claire Danes for AppleTV+. Very different from Loki, and yet also a tale of what is real and who we are. Is that what attracted you to it on some level?

HIDDLESTON: I read it and immediately connected to it. Read the screenplay, the adaptation. It’s based on a novel by Sarah Perry, which was published in 2016 and is set at the end of the 19th century. It’s an extraordinary story about uncertainty and about our deepest fears and how sometimes our fears can distort our imaginings and how our minds can lie to us. About how we have to guard against that, and Perry sets it in this extraordinary time with a beautiful leading character of Cora Seaborne, played by Claire. Anna Symon adopted it.

There’s this community on the east coast of England who believe that an ancient beast has been awakened by an earthquake and that it’s dislodged all these fossils. But perhaps, it has also dislodged this ancient underwater monster, which has been used to explain certain unusual phenomena. This was in the era when Darwin had just been published a few decades before and people are starting to think, this Charles Darwin, he’s onto something. Still, fear spreads very quickly, and it’s a very fascinating time where science and faith are in conflict.

DEADLINE: When you describe it like that it sounds very Loki indeed.

HIDDLESTON: Maybe the themes are very Loki. Maybe that’s where they join up, but I’m playing a 19th century vicar who is trying to contain his community. You feel very destabilized by all these rumors. So, yeah, to go from Loki to a vicar was definitely new, a new territory.

DEADLINE: Literally and figuratively?

HIDDLESTON: Well, it’s my first significant time in Essex, where we filmed, which I feel embarrassed about. I’ve been to Essex before, but I’ve never been to the very, very eastern, most eastern coast of Essex. It’s the Blackwater Estuary, which then feeds into the River Thames, and it’s a very ancient part of England. It’s so marshy, it’s where in Great Expectations, that’s where Pip meets Magwitch for the first time. It’s all foggy and muddy and marshy and quite atmospheric and a perfect place to set a story about of uncertainty and fear and gothic romance. Clio Barnard directed it, and working with her has been amazing.

DEADLINE: You know, it occurs to me that of all the main Marvel characters, Loki has been such a constant, yet so ethereal in so many ways too. Is it jarring for you to jump back into the role with all the uncertainty it brings?

HIDDLESTON: You know, I’ve always seen it as sort of an extraordinary and surprising constant in my life for a decade. But, I don’t take it for granted because I don’t often…you know, it may end. It has actually ended, and those endings have been conclusive. I really thought a couple of years ago, after I made Avengers: Infinity War, you know, we all know what happens in that scene, and I thought, that’s it.I thought it’s over, and I was really proud to have been part of it. I was grateful for my time, but I thought that, my work would go off in a different direction. So, the idea that I got to come back and have another go was a complete delight, it truly was.

#Tom Hiddleston #Interview #Loki #The Essex Serpent

[the99thfanboy]

Loki is making me a little crazy

Loki, you're flirting with yourself and it needs to stop.

Why are you so close with Sylvie? You just met her. You trust her? She's you. Why would Loki ever trust himself.

Show writers, we want Mobius as a love interest. You hired Owen Wilson and expected us to ignore his character track record for being 'friends' with the other male main character. They clearly love each other.

They confirmed Loki's bisexuality then hinted at him falling in love with Lady Loki. Stop.

Loki and Sylvie are brother and sister (essentially).

"Have you ever met a version of us that's a woman."

Loki, you're gender fluid, you're a woman sometimes. Just tell us the pronouns every once and a while and we'll get right on it. Is it because Odin never let you wear a dress in those timelines? I'll give you a dress, green or black?

Why were there no femme presenting Loki's? All of those Lokis and not a single one was anything other than masculine.

Alligator Loki is the best Loki and he will be the one to rule us all.

Old Loki needs more screen time. He's an icon. He plays the cape so well and I love him.

Hi, I'm frustrated.

#loki #loki variant #loki show #loki is a bisexual #sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius #mobius m mobius #loki laufeyson #loki disney+ #loki fandom #lokius #alligator loki #old loki #classic loki #tva