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firelordappa · 4 years

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The Secret Society [M] - Chapter One

Pairing: Sokka x OC

Word Count: 2813

Genre: Romance, baby. Fluff AND smut

Hello, everyone! I hope you give this story a read, I have lots of good things planned for it. I actually posted another version of the first chapter for this story but I decided to rewrite it and I like this version a lot better lmao.

In this story, Sokka is 22 and our main female love interest is 20:) Just in case you’re too lazy to do the math, that means that Aang is 19, Toph is 19, Katara is 21, and Zuko is 23.

Like I said, I have so many things planned for this story! Me and 2 friends actually planned out the entire plot line one night sitting in my car and I knew I immediately had to start writing. Before we start, I’d like to give a shout out to @mystic-kitten-writer for inspiring me to write a story of my own! If you haven’t already, go check out her story “Limerence”. It’s a Zuko fic with lots of fantastic smut and honestly just one of the best fics I’ve ever read.

Let’s get started!

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The sun felt nice on my skin. The warmth of the rays hit my cheeks and for a short period of time, it made me feel alive. My entire life has always felt like one huge identity crisis. I’ve never truly understood who I was or what my place was in the world. My family and I constantly live in a constant state of fear of people discovering who we really are.

It’s a secret that I have to bear with me for the rest of my life.

“Tenzin?” My mother’s soft voice spoke from behind me. I turned around and looked at her and it was in that moment that I realized how similar we look to each other. Her round, dark brown eyes that she passed down to me looked at me with concern as I sat here on the cliff side right behind our house. Her waist-length chocolate brown hair was pinned up neatly, showing off her angular cheekbones that even with age, have failed to lose their place on her face. My mother truly was beautiful.

“Yes, mother?” I stood up. I had a thin cotton dress on due to the heat that came with the summer time. But with the way she was looking at me, I knew it was time for me to go to work and that I would need to change. Just another day doing the exact same thing I’ve done for the past 10 years of my life. Life was monotonous for me and my family, and slowly but surely I’ve just come to accept it.

This is my life. There’s nothing I can do to change it.

I walked inside of our house and turned one corner to make it to my room. We lived in a pretty small house, but with just me and my mother that’s all we really needed. Both my mother and father both never really cared for luxurious things, but even if we did there was no way we could afford to live a lavish lifestyle. That’s why my father opened the ramen shop. So that our family could get by, even if it required us to scrape the bottom of the barrel sometimes.

But we were happy. That’s all we really needed.

I rummaged around my room trying to find my apron before finally finding it hiding underneath some of my blankets that had fallen onto the floor. I tied it maybe a little too tightly around my waist and then walked over to the mirror to check my appearance before I had to head out for the day. I braided a few pieces of hair before pinning them back, trying to look a little more put together. I’ve never been confident about my body, or anything about myself really. I think of myself as devastatingly average. Just someone who could blend into the background and nobody ever thinks twice about.

My parents always raised me to believe that I shouldn’t obsess over my looks. Shallow and surface level desires like that were just things that we didn’t believe in. When I was younger this was easier to follow, but now that I’m way past the marrying age and I still have nobody interested in courting me, it makes a girl wonder.

“What’s wrong with me?”

The shop was right next to our house. Very convenient, if you ask me. We typically didn’t get much business because just like us, everyone else in the village was also struggling financially. Most people found jobs within the city, but they’re restricted to working in the outer rings where money is still pretty short. Looks like we all have it out for us, huh?

“This is just what I needed!” A voice called me to look up from my place at the counter. A group of people walked through the doors and I immediately got excited because these were our first customers in a few days. One of the men caught my eye.

Gods, he was exquisite.

He was tall and had beautifully tanned skin. He had his hair tied up in a short ponytail and he carried himself with so much confidence that anyone would immediately be drawn to him. He had a lean figure and his arms were toned and on full display in the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. I need to stop gawking, I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way.

“Hello, everyone. You all look tired! You must have been traveling. What can I get for you today?” I broke out of my trance and walked over to the group to greet them. The Avatar…?

The beautiful man looked up at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. His face was even more handsome up close. His full lips turned up into a smirk and he looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

I could feel how deeply I was blushing, but I hoped he didn’t notice. Is he flirting with me?

“Yes, we’re just passing through the area and looking for something to eat. None of us are really picky.” One of the women smiled at me as she spoke. She was also jaw-droppingly beautiful, and the similarities between her and the man led me to believe that they were siblings. What’s in the water where these people are from?

I laughed at her obvious attempt to try and divert her brother’s advances. “Alright, everyone. I’ll make sure to have it out for you as soon as possible.” I gave the group one last smile before turning on my heel and walking towards the back to my mother. I felt very flustered by that man’s...flirting? I’ve never had a guy show any interest in me at all. Is that what all of these feelings were in my chest?

It felt… good. Really good.

“Mother, we have customers!” I told her excitedly as I walked into the kitchen. She looked up and smiled warmly and I could tell that she was happy about finally having business. She immediately started fixing everyone’s food for them and while she did, I couldn’t help but daydream about the blue-eyed beauty sitting in our shop. My heart was fluttering just thinking about seeing him again in a few minutes. Would he try to flirt with me again?

Why were they traveling here in the first place?

My mother eventually finished up everyone’s meals and I took them on a serving plate to bring them out to the group. As soon as I walked through the doors the man snapped his head in my direction. His eyes slowly scanned my body up and down, drinking me in. The butterflies in my stomach came back immediately and I could feel the blush burning on my cheeks.

“Here’s your food, everyone. I hope you enjoy everything! If you have problems with anything please let me know. My name is Tenzin.” I placed everyone’s bowl in front of them. They all seemed eager to finally have something to eat, but as soon as I mentioned my name, the young Avatar’s eyes met mine. The look that he gave me almost sent chills down my spine because he was narrowing his eyes at me so suspiciously. I need to tread lightly…

“Tenzin? You know, that’s a very beautiful name.” I placed the man’s food in front of him as he spoke. I couldn’t help but let a giggle leave my lips. So he is flirting with me, after all.

“Thank you. I hope that you all enjoy your meals.” I gave the group a smile before nervously walking off. I didn’t really know how to respond to his advances towards me because I’ve never been in this position before. My whole body felt hot because of my nerves, and I’d rather just remove myself from the situation instead of trying to embarrass myself. They’re travelers anyway, I shouldn’t be worrying about this guy.

I’ll probably never see him again after today.

I stayed in the back with my mother until I felt like it had been long enough to check on the group again. Whenever I walked back into the main room, they were all gone except for one. The Avatar sat at the table with his eyes glued to the wall in front of him as if he were deep in thought. He quickly turned his head towards me once he had noticed that I had entered the room. Our eyes locked and I couldn’t really tell what was going on in his head, but clearly something was troubling him. I walked over to the table and sat across from him. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before he finally had the courage to speak.

“Who are you, Tenzin?” His stormy gray eyes bore into mine. I thought the Avatar was supposed to be an incredibly nice and kindhearted person, but this man was not the one that I had heard so many great things about. He seemed troubled - sad even. “I feel a very strong energy coming from you. The type of energy that I haven’t been around in over 100 years.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Avatar Aang.” I don’t know why in this moment I decided to act stupid. I knew exactly why he felt the shift in energy whenever he was around me. I just don’t think I’m ready to be able to join a side of the world that I was never truly accepted in. I knew what would become of me if I confessed my family’s one true secret. So in this moment, I continued to play dumb.

“You know exactly what I mean.” His voice rose slightly, the frustration in his voice clearly evident. “Please. Be honest with me.”

“I’m sorry. I- uh, I can’t.” I stood up from the table as soon as I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I rushed out of the shop and ran to the cliffside behind my house. This was the only place I knew that could help me feel better or just help me think whenever I felt overwhelmed. In this moment, I was certainly overwhelmed. Deep down I knew that the Avatar was certainly someone I could trust with my family burden. And yet, there was still a part of me that wanted to keep my secret a secret. I knew that if I revealed the one part of myself that I was always forced to keep hidden from everyone to him that my life would never truly be the same after that. I would be throwing myself into the same situation that got my father killed.

But there was a nagging voice inside of me screaming at me to use this as an opportunity to live the life I’ve always truly wanted to live. I imagined how much more full my life would be. I wouldn’t be stuck in this poor, tiny village serving ramen to people with my mother until I died. I would maybe meet a man, get married, have a few kids who would possibly end up bearing the exact same weight as I for their entire lives. We would be happy, and then eventually I would die. My life would’ve served no real purpose. It would continue to be the same boring, monotonous life that I lived every single day.

So, what if I changed my fate?

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It had been three days since Aang and his group had visited our shop. Everyone in the village knew their purpose for visiting now at this point. They were scouring the Earth Kingdom villages in search of benders so that they could help build up an army against rebels from the outer ring of Ba Sing Se. According to Aang, these rebels had poisoned the Earth King and murdered him in cold blood. He made sure to explain to everyone that this fight was meant to restore justice and peace within the city, but many people from the village were obviously not interested in fighting against the people that they worked with every single day. Some of us were the outer ring of Ba Sing Se. Regardless, they still managed to find a few benders from our village and convinced them to join their cause.

I knew that this was my chance to leave. They would probably be leaving soon, so I knew I would need to act fast. However, my nerves kept getting the best of me. What would happen to my mother? The shop? Was I really ready to drop everything and leave? I would be putting not only my own life in danger, but also my mother’s. My family’s.

It was that same afternoon that Avatar Aang walked back into our shop. I knew he was here to talk to me, but I still had reservations about the entire situation. I walked into the main room and he looked at me sternly.

“Follow me, please.”

He walked with me out of the shop. We ended up walking into the trees that surrounded the outskirts of the village until we stopped at one of the many waterfalls that were sprinkled throughout the forest. He guided me to the edge of the water and sat down before motioning me to do the same.

“You know, for the longest time I’ve felt so alone. Whenever Katara and Sokka took me to the Southern Air Temple all those years ago and I realized that every single one of my people were gone, I didn’t really know what to do with myself.” He spoke softly as he watched the water rush down from the waterfall. The mist was spraying us gently and in a way, it was oddly calming. So his name is Sokka…

“Ever since then, I’ve been so desperate to fit in. To know that my entire culture has been wiped out terrifies me. I’ve never felt something more painful than the pain of knowing that nobody else is like me. Yeah, there are other benders. But nobody else truly understands me and my beliefs.” I turned my head from the water to look at him while he spoke. His hair was wavy and unkempt. The blue ink of his tattoos contrasted almost beautifully from the light tan of his skin. He turned his head and gazed at me in almost the exact same way I had been gazing at him.

“I know who you are, Tenzin.” He breathed and looked away from me again. “I know what you are. I felt it from the moment I stepped foot in this village. I guess I just wanted to hear you say it outloud so that I wouldn’t feel crazy.”

“Aang…” I could feel myself choking up. I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore because I feel just like he does. The only person in my life that I ever felt truly connected to was my father because we were one in the same. Whenever he died, I lost that connection and since then I, too, have also felt like an outcast with no one else who would truly understand what I was going through and the weight of the burden that I had to carry. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But with me, you don’t have to be alone anymore.” He turned his body so that he was facing me. He took both of my hands in his and looked at me with an agonizingly longful look in his eyes. “Please come with us. I promise that we will protect you and keep you safe from the people who are scared of us. I can’t lose this now that I’ve finally found a connection from my past.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. He lifted his hand to my face to wipe it away with his thumb and for a moment, I felt like I was where I needed to be. The connection between us was undeniable and for once in my life I finally met someone who was just like me. Aang shared the same burden as me.

The same gift.

“I will come with you.” I whispered, my eyes dropping to our hands. He was squeezing mine so tightly that his knuckles were white, but as soon as the words left my lips it seemed as if all of the tension he had been feeling had been released. The storm that resided within his eyes seemed to finally be calm, and a soft smile formed on his lips.

I was choosing my own destiny. Finally, I could truly live as the most authentic version of myself. It was in this moment that I felt like I knew who I was truly meant to be.

I’m an Airbender. And I was ready for everyone to know.

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Alright, first off, if you’re confused about the Aang having hair thing, look up “aang with hair comics” and you’ll see what I mean, mama.

I hope you all enjoyed! The next chapter will probably be up soon depending on how often I feel like writing. I wrote this entire chapter today because I just felt really inspired. Anyway, I hope you all liked it enough to stay along for the ride :)

-Bekah

#avatar #avatar: the last airbender #sokka #sokka fanfic #aang #katara #avatar toph #atla appa #atla #zuko

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bellesdomain · 6 years

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Starlight Express 6.0 - Mama the Steamer

Photos 1-3 - Reva Rice as Mama, dress rehearsal Photo 4 - Andrew Lloyd Webber and Reva Rice, opening night June 2018 Photo 5 - Regi Jennings and Reva Rice, closing night May 2018

OK. so. why.

WHY did they change Poppa’s gender, not Electra? Why do we not have a female Electra? Who asked for Mama? Who thought this a good idea? Where did this even come from? How does this fit the story?

Apparently, they had international auditions, and there were 10. TEN applicants to play this role. I mean, I know they’ve struggled to find performers for Poppa - how many mature black guys want to learn to skate and move to Germany for a role? Do they somehow thing there’ll be more mature WOMEN in musical theatre, prepared to learn to skate and move to Germany? let alone try to maintain the racial diversity.... If they’d spent the last 20 years actively seeking to keep the cast diverse, maybe there’d be enough women who’s previously performed in the show who’s want to come back when they’re in the 30-60 age bracket (and haven’t settled down, had a family, moved career to something where there’s actual opportunities for mature women unlike the vast majority of musical theatre...)

They’ve pulled off an amazing coup in getting Reva Rice to join the cast. But unless she decides to permanently move to Bochum, who’s next? Who is going to replace her? And in this rumoured new UK/English language production, who’ll be Momma there? Who else has the skill set to perform this role? Maybe... 3, 4 other ex-Starlighters that I know of are still actively performing, have the soul voice, and aren’t white. Maybe 3.

Then there’s the role. Poppa’s big numbers - Poppa’s Blues, the Starlight Sequence, and Light at the End of the Tunnel - all fall comfortably in a tenor range. (I’m a trained singer with a fairly good alto range, I can hit Poppa’s notes for the big songs). But there’s also a lot of recit - the story telling conversations, and those are all baritone. The vocal range goes way down there. You can style it out, sprechgesang it, fake it.... But it’s not ideal and not kind to the other characters.

Not Kind? HAVE YOU HEARD THE STARLIGHT SEQUENCE NOW??? Mama is simply in a different key to Rusty. It just cuts back and forth in the most jarring manner. (then poor Rusty’s vocal range is so abused in “I Do” as well....) Reva apparently can’t get those bottom alto notes? Or they decided to mess about with it because of reasons?

Is Mama special for being a female champion steam engine, or is her gender unremarkable? Why does she introduce herself with the “I Got Me” melody, as if she were one of the coaches? (Since both Mama and Coco are Engines, the coaches clearly have a problem with Engines shoving them around, not Men... not all engines are men, so it’s an Engines vs Coaches issue, not Male vs Female. and if Mama uses “I Got Me” because she’s a girl, why doesn’t Coco use it too?)

ANYWAY. COSTUME.

Now bear in mind the first three photos are from a dress rehearsal, and the final image with Andrew Lloyd Webber is from opening night. The difference that is immediately apparent is her wig - in the intervening week she gained a headscarf, and the wig is re-styled to look a lot better. It looks atrocious in the first images, but credit where it’s due, by opening night the wig looks fine.

So Mama’s basic costume, as seen in the race picture, is exactly what I hoped to see. She’s wearing the exact same design as Poppa, bit scaled and tailored to a female cut. The only discrepancies are her under-shirt is painted into more, less the white/grey base but painted an “old gold”, and the neckerchief she wears is more subdued than Poppa’s bright orange. These tweaks are an improvement in my mind, as the costume is more cohesive, less high contrast between the overalls/shirt which isn’t an important detail.

We see Mama’s Blues - she has new set details surrounding her, a dilapidated water tower and bridge behind her (are they to scale? or is the buffer seat to scale? because those elements are NOT to scale with each other....) She’s wearing a grubby old apron - suggestive of Grandma in the kitchen or in the garden at home, this works. We’re seeing her in her own space, in private, hanging out with her friends / adopted kids. You can bet she’s already offered them all some iced water. She takes off the apron as a symbol of getting up, going out there to RACE - which is perfect story telling.

And then it all falls apart. Mama gets a skirt. Because she’s GIRL and GIRLS WEAR SKIRTS. How else would we know she’s a GIRL if she’s not in a SKIRT?!

WHY???

Especially after we’ve already seen her throughout the show (the skirt only appears for Light at the End of the Tunnel) - we know the character, we’re comfortable with her already, but she has to be swathed in a massive amount of fabric to close out the show?

Allow me a brief ramble about skirts in European Fashion History. Skirts have always existed to slow women down. Our ancestors could do so much DESPITE their skirts, not because of them. Little girls have to be careful of their pretty dresses while their brothers climb trees. Girls have to be careful not to have a Marilyn Monroe incident and let their skirts blow up. Skirts are a hindrance to physical activity - even the shortest skater dress skirts, purely decorative, are symbolic of this feminine archetype that women are to be slow, careful, cautious, take care of their appearance, to be decorative, not physically active. (I’m sitting here wearing a dress right now, but if I wanted to mow the lawn, I’d have to change first) Skirts represent the feminine home-maker, the wife, mother, source of comfort and refinement. This is not a negative association necessarily, it’s simply the connection that’s made. Look at our four classic coaches - Pearl the First Class carriage, ultimate in luxury. Dinah the Dining Car - table-service, stylish restaurant. Ashley the Smoking Car - a comfortable lounge car where you can relax and smoke. All three, appropriately, wearing skirts. Then there’s Buffy the Buffet Car - serving quick snacks and drinks, not somewhere to linger, no-frills supplying your needs. For speed and efficiency? No skirt.

So, why does Mama (and Coco, I’ve got a big problem with her design too) wear a skirt? With this symbolism behind the garment, how on earth is is appropriate for an Engine to represent comfort and domesticity? Why does Mama gain this at the end of the show, when her part in the narrative is complete? What further development of her story does this costume change represent?

Why bother?

So in conclusion, I have a big problem with the concept of Mama (as opposed to a female Electra which would have made a much stronger story). I almost love her costume design. And then they ruin it at the end. I’m very sceptical about Mama’s longevity - I think casting will be nigh-on impossible while maintaining any integrity to the character, and I’d much rather have Poppa back than scraping the barrel to find someone approximately appropriate to play Mama in years to come. and sort out those keys.

#Starlight Express #Starlight Express Bochum #StEx 2018 #Poppa the Steam Engine #Mama the Steam Engine

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syriul · 7 years

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A Time Traveler in Viking Court - part 8/?

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Kyle called out to you as you ran ahead of him, determined to get to the training grounds before anyone.

“Don’t you know the early bird catches the worm?” You shouted back as you left him behind.

It was early morning and the the whole of Kattegat was still asleep. You slowed down to a jog as you entered the center of the town so you’d have a chance to look around. A light mist coated every building and every breath you took helped form a white cloud inches away from your face.

“You don’t even know where the training grounds are!” Kyle shouted as he caught up to you once you’d slowed down to a walk.

You paid him no mind and continued walking. You both wove past wooden houses and through desolate alleys; you made sure to step carefully over puddles of muddy water as you hiked up the skirts. Kyle would take you by the elbow every so often as a way to help keep your balance when a puddle was too wide to properly cross.

“Do you really think this will work?” You spoke as you looked down, inspecting the floor for water.

Kyle walked a few feet ahead, stopped by a puddle, and waited for you to get close enough to help. “I hope so.” He sounded sad.

He must really be missing home, I know I do.

You fought the urge to stop walking and give your best friend a bear hug.

You both remained silent until you reached the edge of the town, where the woods began to replace homes.

You stopped walking and turned to face Kyle. “So, where ARE the training grounds?”

Instead of looking at you, Kyle scanned the edge of the woods and then the edge of the town. “I have no idea.”

What?

You took hold of Kyle’s chin and forced him to look at you. “What are you looking for?”

“Who.” Kyle responded.

You tilted your head in confusion.

Kyle let out a little giggle that made you forget of his earlier sadness. “I’m looking for a who.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” You could feel the corners of your mouth turning up in a smile as you spoke.

Kyle giggled even harder. “I’m scanning for Ivar.”

“Is he meeting us here?”

Kyle nodded. “But he’s late.”

“Maybe we’re early.”

“Maybe, but probably not.”

Kyle went back to scanning your surroundings in search of Ivar, you followed suit.

No more than three minutes had passed by when you threw your arms into the air and let out a frustrated groan. “Maybe he forgot about us.”

“You think?” Kyle gave you an unsure look.

“He must have. We’ve been waiting here for ages.” Your loud, annoyed words disturbed the silence of the still quiet town.

Kyle scoffed at you. “You are so impatient.”

You playfully punched Kyle’s arm and braced yourself for retaliation.

Kyle held up his arms as if he was in a boxing ring, as did you, and began to bounce circles around you. “Come on, punk! Think you can take me in the ring?” His face was lit up with joy.

Just like back home. Yay!

You matched his bouncing steps and closed the space between you two. “Slow motion!” You yelled as you pretended to punch him at a painfully slow pace.

“Oh no!” Kyle shouted back, dragging each syllable out.

Your fist softly made contact with his cheek. Kyle pretended to stumble backwards all the while shouting “no” in an unusually deep voice.

You laughed as Kyle gently set himself down on the dirt. “Looks like I have won.” You spoke as villanously as you could, but failed thanks to the wide smile that kept pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Kyle, who was smiling just as wide as you, placed the back of his hand against his forehead and looked up at the sky in a dramatic way. “Looks like I have been defeated yet again.”

I really missed this.

You both laughed and giggled until you reached out your hand and helped Kyle back to his feet.

“What are you doing?”

Your laughter stopped abruptly as you turned to find Ivar standing a few feet away from you, his blue eyes shifted from you to Kyle and back to you.

You opened your mouth but immediately closed it once more due to shock, He’s standing. You looked him up and down, stopping a few seconds to take in the braces that seemed to cage in his useless legs, before locking eyes with him; he was a lot taller than you when he was up right. Wow.

“We were, uhh-” you couldn’t find your words, it was as if you were entranced.

‘We were waiting for you.” Kyle finished for you.

Ivar took a few steps towards the two of you. “Kyle, you will train with Ubbe.” Ivar kept his gaze on you. “(Y/n), you are with me.”

Oh shit, am I staring? You snapped back into action and shifted your gaze towards the dirt floor for a second. Don’t get weird, (y/n), don’t get weird. You slowly lifted your gaze to find Ivar still staring at you.

“Are we training separately?” You asked as coolly as possible.

“Yes,” Ivar finally broke his stare on you and turned towards Kyle, “I think you’ll do best with swords.”

Kyle shot you a quick glance before looking back to Ivar, he was clearly unsure about leaving you alone with him. You gave him a small nod indicating that you’d behave; Kyle returned your nod in acceptance.

Ivar pointed towards the town. “He is waiting for you in the center of town, by the great hall.”

Kyle shot you one more glance before throwing up a peace sign and running off, back towards Kattegat. You watched until he disappeared among the wooden buildings.

“So,” you turned towards Ivar and shot him the friendlies smile you could muster, “if I’m not training with swords, what AM I doing?”

Ivar turned away from you and began to make his way towards the woods. “Archery.”

You nodded to yourself in approval as you walked right behind Ivar. You found yourself constantly looking down at his braces as he stepped over roots. Was I not raised right? I can’t just stare, it’s rude. You shook your head as if to shake away the need to gawk and took a deep breath, the silence between you two was making you uncomfortable. We need a conversation to fill up this awkward silence. Now.

“Ivar?” You called out as you sped up to walk by his side.

“What?” His answer was curt and unfriendly but you brushed it off.

“What’s you favorite color?”

Wow, I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, aren’t I?

“Who cares?” He didn’t spare you glance.

“I do.” You stared up at him, inspecting every inch of his profile.

Ivar’s jaw tightened as he looked down at you from the corner of his eyes.

If he won’t speak, then I will.

“I like blue, sometimes green. Purple’s okay, but it doesn’t look too good on me -”

“Turn.” Ivar interrupted you.

You stopped walking and looked up at him, confused, before completing a little twirl. You looked up at him an gave him a small, pleased smile.

“I meant turn left.” Ivar walked past you.

That makes more sense.

You stared at his broad back as you followed closely behind him. “Why don’t you like me?” The words left your mouth without your meaning to.

Ivar stopped walking, causing you to nearly bump into him.

“You kicked dirt in my face.” He spoke as he turned around to look at you.

“Only because you made some very inappropriate comments.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“What comments?” Ivar faked confusion. “Oh,” his lips spread out into a smile, “you mean about my brother.”

You silently stared daggers at him.

“He’s lost interest in you, hasn’t he?” Ivar’s voice was dark, his smile even darker. “And that makes you angry.”

“No, we just had a small fight.” You felt yourself tense up at the memory of the day before.

“He bedded a slave last night.”

Ivar’s words combined with his malicious grin sent a shiver up your spine. You felt your blood begin to boil with anger. Did he really? No, he wouldn’t have. Would he? Am I jealous?

“He seemed very…satisfied when I saw him afterwards.” Ivar kept his cold eyes on you.

You didn’t know how you felt, so you didn’t know how to respond. When in doubt, make a snide remark.

“What? Were you perving outside his bedroom door, waiting for him to finish?” You felt the meanness drip from your every word.

You weren’t sure if you meant to hurt his feelings or not. Either way, a hurt look crept over his usually taunting face.

“We should keep walking, the training grounds are close by.” His voice didn’t match his facial expression; his tone was deadly.

You only nodded, blank faced, and watched as he turned around and started walking deeper into the woods. You waited a few seconds, enough to get some distance between the two of you, before walking after him.

Back to silence. Great.

The training grounds was exactly what you’d expected it to be; it was nothing more than a small patch of land with weapons placed in different sections, almost like stations, surrounded by woods.

Ivar silently led you to a tree stump in the center of the grounds and sat down. He reached down beside the stump, out of your view, and pulled up a bow and a single arrow. You craned your neck for a better look at the other side of the tree stump and spotted a number of arrows laying on the floor.

“Here.” Ivar held the bow and arrow for you to take.

You hasitated.

“Take it.” His anger was still present.

You took the weapon from him and waited for further instructions.

“Set it up.” Ivar stared at the bow in your hands as he spoke.

You tried placing the arrow on the bow string a few times but it fell from between your fingers each and every time. This looks easier in the movies.

“I can’t.” You shoved the bow towards Ivar in frustration.

“You’re not trying.” His shoved it back to you.

“Yes, I am. You just saw me try!”

Ivar took hold of you wrist and pulled you closely.

“You have to hold it like this.” Ivar moved your fingers into the proper position. “And hold the arrow between them.” He was still angry.

Although you tried to pay attention to what he was doing with your fingers, you were close enough to see the different shades of blue in his eyes and couldn’t look away. Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so blue.

“Now shoot.” Ivar’s voice brought you back from your thoughts.

“Um, what?” You took a few steps away from him.

“Shoot the arrow.” You could hear his anger begin to waver.

“Okay.” You aimed the arrow at Ivar’s head and closed an eye to get a better shot.

“Not at me.” Ivar rolled his eyes. He wasn’t angry anymore, just annoyed. He nodded towards the woods at your back. “Shoot that way.”

You gave him a nervous laugh as you turned towards the deer heads that would serve as your targets.

“And keep both your eyes open.” Ivar continued as you steadied yourself and brought the bow up to eye level.

You drew the bow string back, took a few breaths, and released it. It missed its target by a mile.

You turned towards Ivar and let the bow drop to the floor. “Maybe archery isn’t my thing. What’s next?”

Ivar stared down at the bow before looking you in the eyes, the stern look on his face sent a slight shiver up your spine. “Pick it up.”

You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. “I’m clearly not good at it.”

Ivar let out an annoyed sigh. “Give me the bow.”

You handed him the bow and watched as he masterfully loaded it up with a new arrow. You stepped aside as he aimed it at the target’s head. In the blink of an eye the arrow flew through the air and landed right in the center of the deer’s head.

Your head snapped back and forth between the arrow and Ivar, who wore a proud smirk.

“You’re fucking incredible!” You stared at Ivar in amazement. “Do it again!”

Ivar broke into an even prouder grin and picked up another arrow from beside the tree stump. He loaded it and released it. Once again, it landed on its intended mark.

You jumped up and down in excitement. Holy shit! That was cool! I wan’t to see more!

Without thinking, you stepped in front of Ivar and took him by the shoulders. “What else can you do?” The glee in your voice was hard to miss.

Ivar looked up at you, pleased with himself. He was in a much better mood than earlier. In fact, he was in the best mood you’d seen him since meeting him. He must like praise.

“Hand me that ax.” Ivar pointed towards the opposite side of the clearing, where an ax stuck out from a tree.

You nodded and jogged towards the ax; it took a great deal of effort to pry it loose from the bark. You made sure to step carefully as you jogged back to Ivar, the last thing you needed was to trip and accidentally slice yourself open.

“Here.” You handed over the ax and watched as Ivar aimed it at the deer heads.

To your surprise, he was looking at you as he let the ax fly through the air and embed itself into the deer. You ran you hands through your hair and smiled at Ivar, you were speechless.

Ivar’s cocky grin faded a bit, being replaced by a hint of sternness. “If you want to be as good as me, you cannot give up after you fail the first time. How do you expect to succeed in anything if you are so quick to quit?”

His words took you aback, but you nodded in agreement.. Wow, he sounds wise.

“Truth be told, I’m just not a fighter.” You spoke as you stepped closer to Ivar. “I don’t like the idea of killing a living thing.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “You will feel differently when you are the living thing on the verge of being killed.”

“Maybe,” you took a seat at the base of the stump he sat on and looked up at him, “but I doubt I’ll have the stomach for it even then.”

Ivar scoffed and looked off towards the deer heads before looking down at you. “You would be useless in battle.”

Your eyes went wide. “Have you been in battle?”

“Yes, many times.” Ivar puffed out his chest with pride. “It is how I became king.”

Without meaning to, your eyes trailed off towards his legs and braces. “Even though you can’t walk?” You asked mindlessly.

“Yes,” Ivar’s voice was harsh, clearly offended, “how can I expect to enter Valhalla and dine with the Gods if I live the life of a coward?”

“I don’t mean to offend, but how?”

Ivar searched your face for any signs of ridicule, but found none.

“I have a chariot I take into battle. It is my wings.” Ivar’s face softened as he spoke, almost as if was remembering a sweet but distant memory.

“No way!” You snapped him back to reality. “You take an actually chariot into battle?“

Ivar nodded.

“Where is it?” Your curiosity was beginning to grow.

“The stables.” Ivar looked down at you with a faint smile.

“Can I see it?” You stood up and dusted the seat of your dress. “Please. I really want to see it.”

Ivar took a few deep breaths and considered your question.

You silently pleaded with your eyes. A chariot. He rides a fucking chariot!

After what seemed like an eternity, Ivar finally stood up and gave you an answer. “Fine. It appears I won’t be getting you to train today, anyways.” Ivar’s face was harboring a wide, proud smile.

Well, would you look at that? He’s nice to look at when he’s not sulking or being an ass.

Ivar began walking towards the woods that led back to Kattegat and you followed, staying right on his tail.

I know this part is a little too long, I got carried away. LOL.

@salty-holographic-stickers @doklausoneverysurfacepossible @iamwarrenspeace @fandoms-and-flannels @thehunterofthelord @thefangirlsoul @justacrush @florenceivy

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #bjorn ironside #bjorn #bjorn ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar #vikings #history channel #fan fic #oc #vikings history channel

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compo67 · 6 years

Note

This question is for Jensen, from Pieces. Question 45, pretty please?

Hey there, anon! Thank you for the question! Let’s see if I can keep this up. :D

Do you have or want any genital piercings? Do you like any on other people?

Jensen should be studying for their Chemistry test tomorrow. Jared beat him by two points on the last one and wouldn’t stop harping on about it for a week after. In theory, he should have started studying for this test two weeks ago, but that would have also meant forgoing precious opportunities to have sex.

Ask a sixteen year old to give up sex?

Jeez, don’t make him laugh.

Unable to concentrate at home thanks to Socks’ helpful barking, Jensen moves his ass over to Fanny’s. She cusses him out and hands him a watering can. If he’s going to be a pain in her behind, the least he can do is help water some of the hundreds of potted plants in the store. After a quick text, Jensen happily starts on his task. Snooty, middle-aged women stop by and chat with Fanny. They also judge Jensen like their lives depended on it. He makes sure to bend over and water the potted plants on the ground. Fanny has a strict no-mooning policy, but there’s no policy about greeting these ladies ass first.

Half an hour later, Jared shows up on an errand. His mother likes fresh flowers for her dining room table. And today is Thursday, the day she prefers them to be replaced.

“I see Fanny’s scraping the bottom of the barrel to find good help these days,” Jared says, walking over. “I’m surprised you even know how to hold a watering can.”

“Lookin’ is free,” Jensen quips. “But touchin’ this beautiful ass? That’s gonna cost ya.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “What makes you think I’d even want to touch your ass? That’s where cooties come from.”

“You wouldn’t last two days without touching my ass.”

“Oh? You wanna try me? Let’s see who can go the longest without any ass interaction.”

Jensen has been to Vegas. He understands the intricacies of blackjack, poker, and the roulette wheel. He’ll bet on black over red any day. He’ll be the first to volunteer and go against any dealer any time on the strip.

“Seven-card stud, high-low,” Jensen declares. “Trips to win. Eight for low, the wheel is no good. No check and raise, with a three bump limit.”

Jared stares at Jensen for a moment.

Then, he busts out laughing and grabs Jensen’s watering can. “You have no idea what that actually means, do you?”

“None at all, my good friend. None at all.” Behind a row of orchids, Jensen sneaks a kiss. Fortunately, Jared returns the kiss. He tastes like gummy bears and 7-Up. Unfortunately, Fanny manages to catch on to their activity. She tells Jensen to get out and go home.

“You don’t yell at Jared that way,” Jensen grumbles and takes the watering can back from Jared.

Fanny swats the back of Jensen’s head. “No I do not. Jared is a paying customer.”

“I buy flowers here all the time!”

“At a steep discount,” Fanny huffs. “Hurry up and finish. Jared’s mother knows exactly how long it takes me to put together her order and pay.”

“That is true,” Jared confirms. He pecks Jensen on the cheek. “I did say I was gonna pick up a loaf of bread from the store, though. If that’s worth anything to you.”

Jensen tries not to stare at Jared’s mouth and think of the things Jared can do with it, but it’d be like asking Hercules to be satisfied bench pressing pebbles all day. And of course, Jared being the ridiculous tease he is, he licks his lips and smiles–totally innocent and pure. Uh huh. Sure.

Bit by bit, Jensen waters every last one of the potted plants. Jared follows him around, groping and allowing to be groped. After a brief talk about the next chess game to sweep the seniors, Jared poses a question to Jensen.

“If you had to have a piercing… down there, would you get one?”

“How do you know I don’t already?” Jensen waggles his eyebrows.

“Please,” Jared replies, his voice a total deadpan. “I’ve blown you enough to know you not only do you not have piercings, I could probably sculpt your dick out of clay with one hundred percent accuracy–blindfolded.”

“And what a talent.” Jensen rolls his eyes. “You want me to get my rock hard cock stapled?”

“We aren’t talking about what I want. I asked you if you’d ever get one.”

This is an important question. How he answers may affect future sexual relations with Jared. What if Jared thinks piercings are totally hot? Why else bring it up?

Jensen answers in the middle of a row of succulents. “Maybe. It depends on a few things. Like, if I get my rock hard cock pierced, will shit still work the same? And if it does work the same, could I still fuck you without having to worry about it falling off inside you? I think I’d worry about the little thing just hanging off my rock hard cock all the time. And what if it got infected? You know, I knew this guy, Larry the Licker, and he pierced his eyebrows by himself. Those things got so infected, he could barely open his eyes. So if that happens to your eyebrows, imagine what could happen to my precious package.”

Jared stares at Jensen.

“That… do you have any anecdotes that a normal teenager would tell?”

“Nope. Not a one.”

“Okay then.” Jared shakes his head. “Well, that was… incredibly convoluted. So what you’re saying is no, you wouldn’t, because you’re too concerned about what would happen to your penis.”

“Rock hard cock,” Jensen corrects.

“Oh yes, rock hard cock.”

“It’s a valid concern!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t uh huh me. You’re the one who asked. And why? What’s it to you what I do with my rock hard cock? If I wanna play around with a staple gun and see what happens, what’s it to you?”

“Don’t let me stop you from doing that.”

“Good. A man’s got a right to staple things into his genitals. This is a free country, you know. Creative expression. I’m an artistic soul–shit like that.”

Jared grins. “Okay, Jen, I get it. So now let me ask you this.”

“I’d rather get my eyebrows pierced and end up like Larry.”

“Gross. Don’t talk about Larry ever again. What I wanna ask is, would you ever want me to get a piercing like that?”

“Like Larry’s?”

“We are not talking about Larry!”

Jensen throws up his hands. “Give a man a break! Here I am, busting my ass to work and provide for you, and all you can do is ask me a bunch of perverted questions.”

“Aw.” Jared ruffles Jensen’s hair. “Is wittle Jensen offended?”

“Yes,” Jensen sniffles. “Yes he is.”

“Too bad. Answer the question.”

“No.” Jensen resumes watering. “I wouldn’t want you to pierce your cock either.”

“How come mine’s just ‘cock’ and yours is a ‘rock hard cock’?”

“Because you make mine rock hard.”

“Nice save, Jen.”

“Thank you.”

Customers come in, so they separate for a minute. Together once more, Jensen whispers, “Look, it’s your body. You do what you want with it. But. Since you’re asking me, I don’t think your cock needs any accouterments. It’s lovely. Just the way it is.”

Jared looks at Jensen, stars and hearts in his eyes. With a softer, warmer tone, he leans over to answer, but kisses Jensen on the nose first. “That’s… charming. Even if it is about my cock.”

“I can be charming,” Jensen says, blushing by now.

“Yeah. But you can be a real scumbag, too.”

“I won’t argue on that.”

Jared gropes and kisses Jensen one more time. Fanny’s got his order ready.

They leave together, on their way to the grocery store for bread and hopefully a quick stop by the park for some sex.

Jensen promises Jared he’ll study for that Chem test. Eventually.

#compo67 #j2 #spn rps #little pieces fic

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plugrick · 7 years

Text

🌓Rickacurring Nightmare

@tusoypendejo

Dont think about it. Whatever you do, don’t think about it.

Don’t stop running, don’t aid too much attention to the situation at hand, and don’t let thoughts wander back to the nauseating image of the thing following only yards behind. Keep going.

Stay cool. Take the chaos and break it down into digestible, bite-sized pieces. Hone the senses on heaving stuttered breath in, forcing it back out doubletime. Huff! Huff!

Don’t glance over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of the ever encroaching thing that clattered down the catwalk only yards behind, catching up too fast–

Oh god, he looked. “F-fffuck!” Through the layer of blur induced by movement over the split second flash he caught, the sight of massive rippling muscle and rows of finger length, inwardly hooked teeth parted in a snarl was enough to seize his next step and nearly make him stumble.

Don’t think about it.

As long as Rick abided by this internal mantra, filled the blank spaces in his harried brain with repetiveness reminiscent of a broken record, he could get through this. Dont think, it reiterated on a constant loop against the merciless encroach of visceral fear; But it skipped, the needle hit a snag in the worn grooves, and the message became dischordant, whittling away at already weak resolve until it inevitably became a baseline scream signalling imminent danger.

BANG SCCCCRRRHH BANGBANG

Oh sweet fuck, it was gaining ground. The heartbeat pounding in his ears sounded faraway yet deafening, like thunder rumbling underwater. Tendons and sinewy muscle strained hard enough to threaten a snapping of ligaments under the stress put upon them by the full-tilt sprint that he was struggling to maintain. God damn, why hadn’t he worked on his cardio more? All the accumulation of age and unchecked drug abuse had really worn his body down to a shell of his former athleticism. He was too out of shape for this.

Rick felt like he was going to start falling apart at the seams. He knew damn well that he couldn’t keep this up. Hell, it was only by the grace of the adrenaline coursing through his overworked circulatory system that prevented an entangling weight of unpleasant memories and engrained dread to encumber his whirling legs. With each and every impact his feet made with ground, the jarring connection hitched his air intake, which didn’t assist the creeping sense of panic clotting his windpipe. Perspiration beaded down the slope of his forehead from sheer effort, momentum derived only from prey animal escapism. Don’t let it catch you again.

SCRITCCCHBANG BANG SCRRRRH

The pursuants’ long claws scraping like nails on a chalkboard had his wits at their frayed ends. All he could think about was how he didn’t want to feel them curl around his side.

“Fuck, fuck - hhhuh - sh-shit!“

He’d really fucked up the game plan this time. How had he managed to end up here, trying to outpace this thing in its’ own advantageous environment?

The elevated bridge in the hull of this abandoned mothership wasn’t exactly the most ideal place for a chase scene with already disproportionate odds. He’d wanted this thing to feel like it had the upper hand, but maybe that’d worked a little too well. The dim emergency lights rendered the hallway too dark to gauge exactly how much distance he was putting between himself and the unnerving sound of something unquestionably sharp scraping against the studded metal floor, but Rick knew it sure as hell wasn’t far enough behind to provide leeway for even the barest room for error. This choice of location was arguably a poorer decision than using himself as a lure.

“RRRRRRHHHHHHHHHIIIIIICK ”

Oh, hell to the motherfucking no. “Ohhh sweet jesus! Ohhh mother of fucking shit! Ohhhh god–!“

He took it back. Carrying out a performance as live bait was /definitely/ the worst idea he’d ever formulated in his entire pointless life. What kind of shit had he been smoking that made him think this was a solid course of action? Oh yeah, just put yourself on a silver platter in front the giant shape-shifting space lizard hellbent on wrapping jaws around you - how could it go wrong? Fucking dumbass.

Maybe this was over before it ever started.

No! No - this was going to work. It was non optional. Yeah, this - this orchestrated scheme was going to pan out just fine, even if it had only gone about half right thus far. He had the coordinates. He was a Rick. He could do this. And if he truly wanted to be rid of this problem, this waking nightmare terrorizing his life, he just - He just couldn’t afford to spare a single second to hesitate.

Sweat slickened fingers struggled to find traction on the smooth dial on the back of his portal gun amidst jostled steps, the knob softly clicking as he searched for the correct dimensional sequence. C-132. C-137. There it was! “H-hah!”

This glowing number displayed upon a tiny LED screen represented salvation. It encompassed freedom, a chance to leave the past behind and move on. It meant no more watching over his shoulder in paranoia in case he was inevitably found again, no more waking up in cold paralysis with the ghost of claws sinking into his flesh;

He was going to take this abomination somewhere it belonged, leave it to rot in some fucked up dimension full of monstrous things just like it.

C-138. A place as shitty as bottom-barrel, hopelessly ruined earthscapes came, complete with an equally shitty old Rick for this thing to chase around instead. He doubted that the difference with it there would be noticeable at all. Or maybe that was just what he was telling himself to justify pussying out on his own problems and throwing one of his alternates under the goddamn bus. Whatever. Sorry, Rick, it’s not personal.

Focus! It was now or never. He squeezed one eye shut and aimed the nose of his gun as true as he could manage, shooting out a beam of green light that became a swirling green mass of eddying energy projected upon the wall ahead.

This was where things got fucky. The plan was a simple enough concept in theory, but in action? It bordered on madness. He’d figured, hey, if this thing would ram through walls just to get to him, why wouldn’t it dive through a portal for a meager chance at a taste?

Right. Now that it had his trail, lighted up on it like a bloodhound made of cold skin drawn taut over spinal ridges and a widely set skull, it’d follow him through a goddamn wood chipper. Just keep eyes trained forward. Ignore the way air raggedly released from convulsing lungs in sharp gasps, the sound distinctly desperate and unhinged. Push through the agonizing burn taking root in the center of a knotted diaphragm, the cramps from unoxygenated muscles that formed stitches just under the rib cage. Close the distance between here and that portal. Just a few more steps, almost there–!

It all came down to this ballsy leap of faith, legs cartwheeling through the air on a direct trajectory with the warping portal. As he passes through the threshold, he swears he can hear the whistle of claws whipping through empty space just behind the curvature of his spine. He thinks he can feel the slightest tug as slender fingers ripped through the fabric of his flowing overcoat with the ease of a knife passing through butter, effortlessly as though the phalanges were made of razor blades. He grits his teeth. If he glanced over, he was afraid that he might catch sight of massive five-fingered hands swinging from peripheral view to wrap completely around his torso–

And then it hit him: The outstretched hand and the crushing realization of failure.

He hadn’t made it far enough.

The strength behind a singular backhanded strike was equal to the brute force of a dozen people, like a bear on steroids. The sheer force of oversized knuckles colliding with the square of his lumbar snapped his head back, made the tightly curled grip around the portal gun release. All it took was one blow to knock the air clean out of Ricks’ lungs and send him skittering at alarming velocity over wide swaths of broken asphalt blocks and rusted rebar sticking up like grave markers out of dismally grey ruins. They snagged at his clothes and engraved fine cuts in flesh, but ultimately didn’t hinder his path as Rick tumbled like a ragdoll, head over heels –

Until something made of uncomfortable bony angles stopped him mid-flight, giving way with the ease of paper mache under the force of momentum. The two bodies met at an abrupt halfway point, catching each other with an effective gut check that sent Rick sputtering for air all over again. “Hurgh-!” He could only dimly register that he’d collided with someone made of lanky limbs that were now inexplicably entangled with his own, all decked out in shredded clothes and stupid sunglasses and telltale blue hair that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Hhhuuhhh-g-gettoffa m-me,” Rick wheezed incoherently, despite the fact that he was the one in the wrong, offering an unappreciative shove to a shoulder that seemed strangely metallic under his fingertips. He struggled to swiftly separate himself from a heap of entwined limbs to little avail as the dawning realization came over him that he’d been unceremoniously thrown down a mountain of rubble, and subsequently felt the part. His knees were sore from agitated old injuries, bruises blossoming along ribs, palms scraped raw and empty.

Wait - his hands were empty. The portal gun! “W-where is it?!” It must’ve skittered away, bouncing out of his hand upon the moment that he was swiped out of midair suspension like an insect. His flat hands swept over the ground, searching thoughtlessly for the only hope he had at getting out of this in one relative piece. “W-w-where’s the gun?!”

Oh, fuck no. It wasn’t going down like this. He’d spent too long evading, living with the lines carved into his sides for it to happen like this.

“RHHHHHIIIICK”

The release of half-speech, half lungful of breath containing too much volume to belong to anything /remotely human/ hissed out, piercing and predatory. It immediately drew Ricks’ gaze up at the hill of debris that he’d taken the express route down from, wherein he could make out the dark silhouette of reptilian features set on an intimidating frame;

It rose eight feet tall on bipedal legs the thickness of tree trunks, staring down unblinkingly with slitted pupils widened with interest. The parting of hinged jaw exposed rows of snakelike fangs meant to sink deep into anything unlucky enough to find itself sandwiched between them,

Like the glow of the portal gun sitting atop a long tongue.

The very last hope of escape slid down its’ gullet with finality, lost forever. Rick could feel his heart sink to his stomach.

It was as good as over. “Fuck.” The only chance to escape lied within the very alternate dimensional version of himself that he’d been planning on screwing over, who he turned to with the utmost urgency. “F-f-fucking portal us out b-before that thing comes down h-here, asshole!”

#tusoypendejo #rp /#HOPE THIS IS OK #it's fucking long because ~story~ or whatever

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hamrcmmr-blog · 7 years

Text

Siv remains unmarried until she is twenty-one, but certainly not for lack of her clan trying. The berserker had been arranged to eight different men in eight years, and each engagement had been dissolved within the month. Too wild, too unpredictable, too unstable, the grooms’ families had mentioned, and wished better for their son; for while Siv came from a powerful clan, what good was power if her groom was too afraid of her on their own wedding night? Fear did not produce families.

She meets her ninth fiancé three months after her birthday, and while technically a free woman now part of the legal majority, her right to choose her partner still does not belong to her. His name is Birger—one who helps—and he is a large but quiet man of twenty-three years who seems more afraid of Siv than of any pillaging he has witnessed from neighboring clans. He came from a simple family of Karls and owned a farm, a spot of land, and a couple heads of cattle. His status is far below what Siv expects of a future husband, but—her parents tell her—they were scraping the bottom of the barrel as it was, and at past a normal marriageable age, she had no right to be choosy. Their courtship is a strange and awkward one. While Siv is used to receiving gifts of gold and silver and of new weapons, Birger can’t offer that. Instead, he offers up gifts of bounties for the winter and seventy-five cows. Three times, she refuses his gifts, much to the consternation of her family, and three times, he goes back home only to return with something greater. His fourth gift he offers his entire farm, determined simply to make this work, because his family needed the higher standing, and he thinks, underneath all the bloodlust and anger, Siv doesn’t seem too bad after all. She drinks heavy, lives life freely, and likes her feasting loud. And on the fourth gift, she accepts—some measure of fondness settling over her because a lesser man would have given up by now.

It is a raw deal, Birger’s family thinks. He is left with nothing, and he does not control his household because he gave it all to his wife. But Siv turns out to be an excellent provider. While her husband farms, she hunts and brings back riches from her travels. Her family never wants for anything. She bears three daughters by him within five years. Yet she remains a wild woman, and bears two more sons by two different men outside of their relationship, and Birger, knowing that attempting to control his wife is a battle that would quickly find himself downhill, makes no move to stop her. But he is nothing if not devoted, and stays on good terms with his wife’s extramarital partners, makes sure he raises those sons as his own. He is patient and kind, even throughout Siv’s fits of rage and bloodlust filled with trance-like states and lacking any trace of sanity. His marriage finds him with more scars than he came in with. And there are rumors that circulate, even after her death, when he follows the Warborn:

❝ Siv’s husband was far more than she deserved. ❞

#;lore : headcanon

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varietydisco · 5 years

Text

Delicate, Petite & Other Things I’ll Never Be

Characters: Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Pre-Canon, Family dynamics, Trans Male Characters Word Count: 2k

Description: Hosea and Dutch teach Arthur how to shave. (Namesake: Delicate, Petite & Other Things I’ll Never Be by Against Me!)

Part 2 of the Coming of Age series

1880

The sun was already well above the tree-line when Arthur came stumbling out of his tent. Sat next to the smoldering remains of their fire, Hosea glanced up from the pages of his newspaper and knocked Dutch’s knee to catch his attention.

“Would you look at that. It’s finally awake.”

Dutch looked up from his own book to watch Arthur stumble his way across the campground. He scratched the back of his messy bed hair and made no attempt to catch his sagging long johns.

“Well, good morning, mister Morgan!” Dutch called. He had a shit-eating grin as he balanced his tin coffee cup on his opposite knee. “I hope you and that rat on your lip slept well.”

Arthur grumbled as he slunk by. He was about seventeen, eighteen now and somehow still growing taller by the day; a running joke around camp was that they’d have to keep a close eye on him, lest someone try to track him and sell him as a bigfoot curiosity. Arthur might not have found the jokes funny outwardly, but Hosea could only imagine he was tickled deep down with his changing body. Puberty was a tough thing to go through once, and much less a second time, though it was more rewarding, Hosea thought.

Bearing that in mind, Hosea rustled the page of his newspaper and said to Dutch, “Maybe we shouldn’t tease him so badly.”

Arthur staggered to an old barrel laying around. It had partially filled with rain overnight, so he stuck his face down into it and splashed himself. Immediately, he made a surprised, sputtering noise.

“Augh, fuck!”

Dutch snorted. He turned his lopsided grin to Hosea. “He just makes it so easy sometimes.”

Dutch then leaned back in his chair and called out, “It is early April, mister Morgan. Water tends to be very cold when it’s been sitting out all night.”

“If you got up earlier, you could have had a nice warm bath,” Hosea tossed in. He glanced to the side and shared a grin with Dutch.

Arthur, shivering and grumbling unpleasantries, continued to splash in the barrel; when he was done, he staggered his way towards the fire pit. Arthur came to stand at Dutch’s side, letting the weak warmth wash over him. He cleared his throat and tugged up the bottom of his undershirt to wipe his face. A thickening trail of hair lead up from the band of his long johns to his navel.

Dutch pursed his lips in a smirk, then reached out and slapped Arthur’s belly.

“Hurry up and get dressed, we’ve got business in town today. And do something about that mange on your face.”

Arthur jolted immediately. He gave both Dutch and Hosea a dirty look when Hosea choked back a laugh.

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur asked. His voice was deep, and raspy.

“I mean,” Dutch reiterated. “Do something about that awful thing on your lip, because we are gentlemen from Chicago today, looking to sell some stocks. Our friend here, Viktor Barry—” Dutch waved his coffee cup towards Hosea for emphasis, “—knows some big men on the inside of some very successful companies that are about to hit the big time, so the going’s gonna get good.”

Dutch sat himself up straight and cockily adjusted his waistcoat. “And while Hosea does that, you and I are going to clean out everything we can find at the mayor’s office. Because my sources tell me that he is proper scum.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Arthur grumbled. He readjusted his clothes and warmed his hands instead by the fire. “But what does this have to do with my beard?”

“What’s wrong is that it ain’t a beard,” Dutch laughed. “We are men of high society, Tacitus, and men of high society don’t walk around looking like they’ve got pubes stuck to their chin.”

“Be nice, now,” Hosea cut in. “He’s spent a long while working on those whiskers.”

“Exactly.” Arthur agreed.

Hosea turned his eyes back to his paper. “Regardless, you still need to shave, Arthur.”

Arthur’s head snapped back towards them both. Dutch snickered.

“What? How come?”

Hosea glanced up and looked over Arthur. His facial hair was patchy, dark in some places to match his hair and lighter in others where it was still growing in. Mostly, it was across his upper lip and spread around his chin. In looking at it, one could only hope that it would grow in proper later.

“Because it isn’t very becoming of you right now. And I understand that you are awful proud of your progress, but you will have fifty, sixty years more to grow as many beards as you like. If we’re going to sell the picture of high society today...”

Hosea gave Arthur another hard once-over. Arthur self-consciously straightened his back and his shoulders.

“...You can’t look like you’ve just wandered out of the woods.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He brushed his fingers through his hair and worked the knots out of it. “You know, I think you’s just jealous ‘cause you can’t grow a beard, Hosea, so you’re tryin’ to take the joy outta mine.”

Dutch didn’t even try to hide his laughter. His voice cracked with it as he knocked Hosea’s knee.

“I can’t tell you what’s funnier— the fact that he’s right, or that he thinks that thing’s a beard.”

“Give him a wallop for me, will ya?” Hosea said.

“Oh, with pleasure.”

Before Arthur could protest, Dutch swung his hand out to smack Arthur’s belly again. Arthur skipped to the side, and Dutch caught his hip instead.

“Leave me alone!” Arthur grunted.

“Not until you go get cleaned up,” Dutch replied. He swatted at Arthur’s hip while the younger shifted away. “Now hop to it, son; we’re burning daylight.”

—30—

When the last of the coffee had been drunk and Arthur showed no signs of return, Hosea offered to go check on him. In passing, Hosea spoke with Bessie and Annabelle, who were quietly talking amongst themselves, but neither had seen Arthur come through to get his fresh clothes off the line. Taking that in stride, Hosea went for the boy’s tent.

Sure enough, Arthur was there. He leaned in close to the shabby mirror propped up, his face covered in shaving soap. Awkwardly, he came in at his jaw from the side with a straight razor, trying to find a proper angle to cut at, maybe.

Hosea got nervous just watching him for that moment, so he asked, “What are you trying to do? Slit your throat?”

Arthur jumped at the sudden voice. The razor slipped out of his hand and nicked his chin, before falling on the ground. He hissed, clutching his jaw, as he whipped around to look at Hosea.

“The hell’s the matter with you?” Arthur demanded. A small trickle of blood slipped over his fingers. “You can’t just... Come up behind someone like that.”

“Well, by the way you were holding that thing, I thought you were trying to get out of our errands.”

Under the foaming soap spread across his cheeks, Arthur flushed red. He plucked the razor from the ground with a grumble.

The whole shaving set had been a birthday gift from Hosea for his last birthday, since his facial hair had finally started setting in. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Hosea was starting to wonder if he’d made the wrong choice. Something a little less hazardous might have been better suited.

Arthur took the razor over to his washing bowl and rinsed it off. He kept his eyes trained forward the whole time; even as he poised himself in front of the mirror, he focused on his own face and refused to acknowledge Hosea. Blood from his cut seeped down over his chin and mixed pink with the shaving soap.

Eventually, his eyes darted to one side. “A little privacy would be nice.”

Hosea didn’t move. He watched for a couple beats as Arthur awkwardly tried to scrape his cheek with the razor, before speaking up himself.

“You don’t know how to shave, do you?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and gave a mean look to the mirror.

“It’s not hard. I’ll figure it out.”

Hosea stepped fully into the tent and snatched the razor out of Arthur’s hand. Arthur turned to protest, but Hosea was a little quicker. He safely flipped the razor shut, set it down on the stand, then grabbed a ratty towel to shove at Arthur’s face.

“I wasn’t even trying to make fun of you that time,” Hosea informed him. “Stop that bleeding first of all, and listen close. Going the way you was, you would have flayed yourself.”

Arthur made a face as he pressed the towel to his bleeding chin.

“Now look here,” Hosea said. He picked the razor up again and flipped it open. “Hold it like this, not like you’re about to skin an animal. You want complete control over the blade, so you don’t slip and cut yourself. Again.”

Hosea smirked. Arthur failed to see the humour in his statement.

“And what you’re going to do is work downwards from the top...” For emphasis, Hosea scraped the edge of the blade carefully down his cheekbone. “Slow and steady, careful. Which I know is hard for a blockhead like you, but please try.”

Arthur, despite looking sour and annoyed, quietly observed everything Hosea did.

Over the past year, his temper had burned out a bit; when they first brought Arthur in, he was quick to the defense and quicker to fight. Nowadays, while he still had that sharp edge to his personality and tone sometimes, he was a lot more reigned in, thankfully.

Hosea shifted his grasp on the handle to hold the razor out to Arthur. He nodded towards it.

“Give it a go, just how I showed you.”

Arthur lowered the towel from his face and exchanged it with the razor. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Turned back towards the mirror, Arthur raised the razor and worked it across his cheek, slow and unsure. Hosea watched from beside his shoulder, nodding all the while.

“There you go. So easy, even an oaf lacking in grace like yourself can do it.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Hosea.”

The cut on Arthur’s chin slowed to a dribble. A little bit of blood still trickled down, curling under Arthur’s chin and to his neck.

Hosea smirked. He licked his thumb, then wiped it across the cut.

Arthur winced and jerked away.

“Gross, Hosea!”

Hosea laughed at Arthur’s reaction as he drew back.

“I don’t know how you managed it, but that’s a fairly clean cut; it might even leave a scar. How lucky for you.”

Arthur took half a step away from Hosea, giving him a dirty look out of the corner of his eye. He continued to shave his cheeks, slowly becoming more confident in his movements. When Arthur got close to his jawline, Hosea made an upwards sweeping motion under his own jaw.

“Like this, when you get to it.” Hosea said. “Careful going over your chins.”

Arthur’s lips twitched into an unwilling smile. He did as told and shifted his tactics to scrape up under his jaw.

Hosea watched his movements carefully. If nothing else, Arthur was a quick learner, so he knew there would be nothing to worry about. Hosea’s eyes slid around the mirror to look over Arthur’s shoulder when Dutch poked his head in through the tent door.

“What’s taking so long?” He asked.

“We’re teaching Artie here to shave,” Hosea filled him in. Arthur’s cheeks flushed, and he cleared his throat. “So far so good. Aside from one minor injury.”

Dutch nodded knowingly. He took on a grin. “Wouldn’t be Arthur if there wasn’t at least that.”

Dutch invited himself inside more. Arthur continued to scrape away his whiskers, his eyes following Dutch in the mirror as he came around to his right side.

“...How far down do I go?” Arthur asked, his voice deep and soft.

“To your Adam’s apple,” Dutch offered, as he laid a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“He hasn’t got one,” Hosea corrected him.

“Oh, well.” Dutch poked his finger into the middle of Arthur’s throat. “To here.”

Arthur nodded a little. Despite how embarrassing it was to have them poking, prodding, and quipping at him, it was nice to have the guidance. Kind of.

“Isn’t this something?” Dutch eventually said. “What a fine, tender moment between us all.”

Hosea pinched Arthur’s cheek. “Little Arthur’s all grown up now.”

Hosea and Dutch shared a laugh. Red to his ears, Arthur swatted at them both.

“Alright, alright, I think I’ve got a handle on this. Y’all can leave now.”

“I think we’ve embarrassed him, Dutch.”

Dutch gave a raspy laugh. “I think you’re right.”

After a quick pause, Dutch added, “We ought to get Annabelle to bring her camera over and snap a few pictures.” Arthur flushed, and Hosea laughed while Dutch went for the tent door, leaned out, and hollered, “Annabelle! Get over here!”

This, Arthur thought, was what made a family: the ability to so quickly and deeply embarrass the youngest party.

But as Annabelle joined them in his tent, soon followed by Bessie and Susan, too, all of them talking and joking and laughing, Arthur thought that, well…

It wasn’t so bad.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #Hosea Matthews #dutch van der linde #anyone else ever think abt that scar on arthur's chin btw or just me #also if u like period accurate anythin id keep movin cause i did like 0.2 seconds of research and then said fuck it #My fic #Coming of Age series

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barelymelinda · 7 years

Text

Strictly Ballroom

My friend Dazzler is a stripper. She used to live the corporate bullshit lifestyle, but then she got wise. Now she’s making almost 6 figures working 4 days a week. In her spare time, she teaches at Stripper School. Pole dancing for exercise is all the rage now. All the celebrities are doing it, don’t you know?

It wasn’t difficult for her to talk me into taking one of her classes. Especially since she never made me pay.

But also because I love dancing, in all its forms. And striptease is a sensual and seductive art form. And very athletic. It takes a whole lot of upper body strength to wield yourself on a vertical pole.

Of course, my favorite form of dance is ballet. What little girl didn’t want to be a ballerina? The graceful fluid movements, the extraordinary muscle control, the beautiful costumes. But alas, I was not granted the opportunity as a child and you pretty much have to start when you’re born. So that dream would never be a reality.

The next runner up was Ballroom. You can start that at any age.

And so, when I was 24, (before the Brat entered my orbit) I saw an ad in the local free artsy fartsy paper.

Join the exciting world of ballroom! Learn to be an instructor in 6 weeks!

It made my heart pound out of my chest and into my throat. Someone could pay me to dance! I choked down my intense anxiety and infinite fear and made the call.

The next day, I went in for the interview/audition and was given a chance on the spot.

But, there was a rub… It was a fulltime gig with ZERO pay. That meant I would have to quit my day job at the bank, give up my steady paycheck and health insurance. But I was getting free ballroom lessons! I mean, that’s an even trade, right?

This wasn’t the first time I gave up a full-time job to do something for nothing. I think I was still working at Bread and Goods when I saw an ad in the same artsy fartsy rag that said:

Do you care about the environment? Then come work for Greenpeace! You can earn up to $500 a week!

Wow! $500 a week to save the environment? Where do I sign up!?

Of course it turned to be a commission only gig, riding around the elite neighborhoods in a van full of patchouli smelling hippies. They would drop us off in teams to canvas the neighborhoods, begging for donations. I’m sure you can imagine how interested in saving the environment a community full of millionaires was.

So, the dance studio had been burned before by people who only signed up to get the free lessons, took the money and ran when the 6 weeks were up. So, I understood. It made sense. And, obviously, I didn’t care. I wanted to do it sooooooooooo badly that I would do it for free. And did do.

The glamour and the excitement were too much to bear. Everyone that worked there was beautiful and perfect. (I couldn’t imagine why they hired me. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, I guess) I loved every single thing about working in a dance studio, the hardwood floors, the chandeliers, the ballroom music, the beautiful people twirling around the floor, the wall of mirrors. Well, not so much the wall of mirrors. That would prove to be my undoing.

After a solid month of training at the main location, where I was dubbed “a Natural”, I was sent to a satellite location because the only male dancer there had just lost his partner.

So, now I was driving an extra half hour to a location that I knew nothing about to be surrounded by people I didn’t know. I had to leave my safety net, all the people I had trained with, the familiar…

When I got to the new studio, it was equally beautiful. But no one was especially interested in me. The boss was the disgruntled, black sheep son of the owner. Number #1 son was a champion cabaret dancer, many times over. This son was a grumpy troll who hated his life. Awesome.

Aside from the troll, there was the troll’s lovely wife (I can’t imagine how he got her), their lovely little toddler and my future asshole dance partner, Dud. That’s it.

They took very little notice of me from day one. Dud spent all his time practicing with Troll’s wife. As for me, I was instructed to stand in front of the mirror all day and dance with myself. NOW, if you have any self-confidence issues at all, dancing in front of a mirror by and with yourself, all day, in a room full of professional dancers, when you aren’t at all confident about your new found skills, is TORTURE.

So one day, as I am dying of shame and embarrassment, Troll walks up to me and says:

“Do you think you’re pretty?”

The room cleared out.

I swallowed hard and said “No.”

“You had pretty bad acne as a kid, didn’t you? I can tell by your scars.”

Is this going somewhere? Or do you just want me to kill myself right here, right now?

People always felt free to point out my skin issues, like it’s an open forum. Old people especially. “You should wash your face with lye soap.” “You should drink baking soda every day.” “You should use sulfur.” “You should have a chemical peel.” You should all fuck off.

He continued berating me; asking me if I cared about anything, if I had any goals. I had no idea what his point was, unless he was trying to make me quit.

Which, I did. I left that night, heartbroken, and I never went back.

But that was a hundred years ago. And now, I am embracing my inner sex kitten as I sexy crawl across the floor towards the pole, whipping my mane in the air like a wild animal. I am woman. Hear me roar.

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