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teaffrogy · 29 days

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Anxiety [Astarion]

SUM. Anxiety and stress have been eating at you. Till you broke.

Fem Reader(You/Tav) X Astarion (takes place in Act 3)

A/N: I am not feeling well mentally, and I just want comfort, so I am giving myself some sort of comfort. I am struggling with anxiety and depression. I am seeing a therapist, but my life is making me want to quit.

Tw(?): Talks a lot about Anxiety and stress

You haven't slept.

It's been two days since you haven't been able to sleep properly. You'd stir in your bedroll or just look outside of the flaps of your tent. What was keeping you awake? Anxiety.

Anxiety of going Back Home, getting this weird tadpole out of you, having to find find the two neteratones who two powerful people have, help Karlach with her engine and worry about what happens next for her, and so so but so much more from everyone else in the camp. Your stomach was killing you. You'd even throw up at random because of the stupid fucking Anxiety that was eating at you. Every encounter leads to new situations that cause even more anxiety.

And some of your companions Have noticed you not leaving your tent for two days. One is because you fall asleep and wake up super Late, the other is because you don't want to go out. You haven't been leaving because you don't want to encounter more situations And the current ones, you are avoiding everything, everyone. And it makes you feel even more worse about yourself than ever because of how much you've been avoiding it.

Astarion would come in to Ask if you are alright but you just said yes. He even asks you to go on a night walk with him since he saw you not sleep at night. But you kindly refused saying he needs to rest too. He would say you two could simply stay. in your tent and he Can just read. But you said no. Shadowheart would come to your tent to ask if you are alright, you'd say you're fine, just tired, but she knew something was wrong and it was bugging her. Gale too, he'd ask or even bring you your favorite meal he made but you wouldn't even touch it. If you did eat You'd just end up throwing it up.

“Do you think she is pregnant?” Karlach asks. “You think so? She's been throwing up.” Shadowheart says. “She is not pregnant!” Gale yells. “And how would you know?” Astarion asks, and Gale says nothing. “Well, I don't think it's because of her being pregnant, I think she'd know if she is. Plus, she seems down.” Wyll says as he looks at your tent, which you haven't left again. Halsin looks at your tent and sees you turn on a candle. You move around, and half your body is out of the tent, but go back inside and turn the candle off. Halsin sighs and looks at everyone. “She is avoiding something or someone.” He says.

Someone? But who?

And they started to point fingers at who. First, it was Astarion(of course) they had thought that their relationship had ended which caused you to lock yourself Away, but it hasn't, it is a good relationship. Then it was Gale. Maybe she was scared he'd blow up! But it was false. You two had talked privately about this. Then it was Wyll. Maybe she was scared of Misora? But no, you had told him you wanted to fight her. Then Karlach, again, burns and blows up. But again, you had ressured Her that you trusted her. Then Shadowheart, her beliefs in Shar maybe were too much for you. Again, you told her as well that it didn't matter to you at all. Halsin…there wasn't really anything wrong. No one had nothing to say about him.

So what was it?

Laezel? But she said that you two were good, that for them to assume something like that was idiotic.

And They gave up. It was either because you hated someone and they didn't know why or you were pregnant. Which are two bad options, but what else?

You couldn't sleep again.

Everyone was in their tents, asleep. You were culled up into a ball as you thought of everything that simply kept coming, and your stomach was killing you again. You wanted to throw up, but at the same time, you didn't. You didn't want to throw up what you had eaten. Gale had made your favorite food. It would be sad if you just threw it up.

And the thoughts are quiet now. They just stopped. You breathed carefully and heard footsteps. It's Astarion. He probably came back from a haunt. You smiled at the thought of him, but the thoughts came back.

What would he think of me now? Does He think I'm disgusting? God, what if he just wants to end things? Does he love me? What am I doing wrong?

It was getting hard to breathe. Your eyes would move from one place to another in seconds and you sat up. Your vision starts to blur as you try to look around. You try to speak but you just make a weird sound like a cry. You cover your mouth and just cry. You hugged the pillow again and covered your face in it as you cried. You could Feel your pillow Start to get soaked as your tears would hit it.

And the flaps to your tent Open. You look up and see Astarion. “Darling?” He calls. You were a mess. Your whole tent was really. He looks at you, hugging your pillow as you try to muffle up the sobs and cries. He sits next to you, not really knowing what to do. He was never really comforted before. Only by you after Cazedor Died. He was crying, shaking and you simply pulled him into a hug and let Him cry it all out until he stopped.

He pulls the pillow away from your face and you sob, avoiding looking at him. He lifts your chin Up and you look into his eyes, his gorgeous red eyes. They reminded you of garnets. Those eyes that shined after he had drinken from you. But today, they looked hurt, worried.

He gently kisses your forehead and then pulls you into a hug. You stood there, frozen for at least 5 seconds before your eyes started to water again, and you wrapped your arms around him. And you just cried. You just cried as you hugged Him, and that's when you spilled it all. “I am so tired!” You say and bury your face on his chest. Your crying starts to calm down. “I have so much to do. I- I just-” You sniffed and sighed. “I am tired. I haven't slept for 2 days, and I have such bad anxiety.” You say as you stopped hugging, but he still is holding on to you. You fidget with the end of the button to his shirt. “Wyll, we have To help him rescue his dad, Karlach, we need to find Dammon so he can see if he can fix her engine, Shadowheart, She has these people after her because she betrayed Shar and now we need to also find her parents, Gale, We Find a book and now he wants the crown of the Elder brain, Laezel well… she is cool.” You smiled, and Astarion chuckles at the end. But he notices everything that is put on you.

Everyone expects you to do something or help them with something. Make huge decisions For them as well. Since the very beginning. “You don't think I'm cool?” He asks and you nod. “You aren't. You are amazing.” You say and he hugs you tighter. “I'm sorry.” you say.

“Don't Apologize Darling.” He says as he pulls from the hug to look at you. “You may feel like you are doing this all by yourself. But you aren't.” He says as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “I'm here. And also I suppose everyone else here as well.” He says and you nod. You felt like crying again but your head hurt. “Also I heard you all talking and what the hell is up with you all thinking I am pregnant?”

“I never thought you were! You know I am not good with kids. I am not risking it to burst myself instead yo-”

“Shush!” You cover his mouth and he grins. “You are sometimes too loud.” You say and he nods. And you two are quiet. You don't know if you would sleep tonight or Would even leave your tent. You were still anxious as to what was coming. But, at least you know you aren't alone now.

“I know you won't sleep tonight, Darling. Would I interest you in a bath? And after a lovely love session?” He says as he holds your hand and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss. He then gets close to you and kisses you. You smile in the kiss. After a couple of minutes of kissing, you pull away and look at him. You nod. "I'd love that.” You say as you hold on to his hand.

“I love you Astarion.” It felt weird saying it. You two don't say it often, but it has a lot of meaning for you two after everything you two have gone through.

“I love you too Darling.”

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superpixie42 · 11 months

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So it's not quite ready for AO3 buuuuuuuuuuut

I did make progress on The Thing aka my whole 7-part new AU for InuKag Week. After not writing anything for months, I'm a little rusty and this is more ambitious in terms of style and world building than I typically work with so I'm not sure when the whole thing will be ready, but I love love love @inukag-week and seeing so many folks coming out of hiatus to participate really inspired me to get *something* ready to rock.

Much love to @anisaanisa @kstewdeux and @dawnrider for their help as I shook off the cobwebs.

So here is Part 1: Love Languages (aka Touch & Miscommunication)

General Info:

Summary:

Kagome Higurashi would sell her soul to get into a good high school. No. Literally. The ratty old journal she found in her grandfather's shed may have been a long shot, but with only one more day before her entrance exam, she really didn't have anything to lose. But when the Hell Hound Inuyasha actually materializes in her room, it turns out to be more than either of them bargained for.

RATING: M or E (but this part is T, for language)

Words: 2,000 (I know I was shocked too)

TAGS (for the whole fic not just these parts) Modern AU // InuKag Week 2023 //Serial Style// Time Jumps//Tumblr events//Modern setting//Sexual content- masturbation//Demon Summoning AU//Bittersweet Endings//No additional character tags

In which Kagome learns to be careful what she wishes for.

–

Kagome checked the instructions one more time. She had the candle, the fresh meat, the knife, and was using clean linen paper. Honestly it all looked so… dorky. She let out a frustrated sigh, unsure if she felt more disappointed or just plain stupid. Doing stuff like this was probably why she wasn’t going to get into a decent high school. Or college. And if med school ever found out she honestly tried to summon a demon using instructions she found in a handwritten journal in a shed on her grandfather’s shrine she would have a better chance of becoming a patient than treating them.

And yet here she was. Kagome Higurashi on her knees in a black dress and dark cardigan looking straight out of an American horror movie, hoping against hope that her soul was worth a better-than-passing grade on tomorrow’s entrance exams. She was smart - smarter than her current situation made her feel, that’s for damn sure. But after nearly a semester of sick days there just wasn’t enough cram school on Earth to get her up to speed. She needed this to work. This had to work.

She checked the clock: a good hour before her mother and brother got home. It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath Kagome quickly sliced the kitchen knife across her finger. She pressed down onto the middle of the white page. With as much conviction as she could muster she finally spoke: “Inuyasha, I need help.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Nothing happened.

Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected. Defeated, she swore violently and tore the useless little paper with its stupid little spell clean in half.

As soon as the last fiber broke there was a deafening roar. Kagome screamed and stood, pressing her back against her bedroom door. In front of her the air crackled with energy as the room went black, then flashed orange with light and heat as the walls burst into unnatural flames. In the middle of the room, pulling his way out of the torn half of paper, was a giant white dog. It growled and snarled and snapped its jaws; spittle hissing into steam.

The Hell Hound filled the whole room, his red eyes with blue irises bore into Kagome, staring her down like the prey she was suddenly very sure she was. As Inuyasha’s shoulders dropped low to let him take the single step between them, Kagome considered her options.

One, burn to death.

Two, be mauled to death.

Three, something equally melodramatic considering she summoned a fucking demon to pass a test.

She quickly surveyed the room for an option four, looking hopefully at the window behind the hound. Her vision was blocked as the beast twisted slightly to face her fully again, its pointed white ears alert and focused on the heartbeat she could hear loud as a drum. She watched the ear twitch at her intake of breath. Maybe it was a lack of oxygen from the arson she’d accidentally committed, but the longer she looked at the ears the softer they looked. Figuring she was going to die anyway, Kagome slowly raised her hand; Inuyasha finally blinked, then moved his eyes to follow her raising arm.

As softly as she could manage, Kagome dragged her middle finger down from the tip, but the ear didn’t so much as flinch. Emboldened, she quickly caressed her thumb and forefinger on the fluffy white ear.

As soon as her fingers closed around the soft appendage the growling stopped and instead she heard a very human voice shouting in her face.

“What the fuck lady? You don’t pet a Hell Hound!”

As suddenly as it appeared the fire disappeared. Kagome dropped to her knees in confusion and relief as her room reappeared around her, untouched and unscathed by the flames no longer licking at her face. She blinked stupidly at where the monstrous dog had been only seconds ago. In its place was a pale, fit, glowering man - the pointy ears she’d just held in her hand perched on top of a thick pile of frizzy white hair. Below the pinned back ears were thick, scowling eyebrows, molten golden eyes with slit pupils, and an expression as black as a thundercloud. She tried to find somewhere else to look when the heat returned quickly to her face as she realized that the angry demon dog man was a naked angry demon dog man.

She ripped her eyes back to the ears. Unusual.

Then to his eyes. Unsettling.

The penis. Unexpected.

In an undignified fluster she smacked her face to the floor in a deep bow.

“My name is Kagome and my Lord Inuyasha I beg you to help me, please please I have to get into High School! In exchange I’ll give you anything you want I swear! Just make sure I pass and it’s yours.”

Inuyasha stood absolutely dumbfounded in the middle of what he now realized was a small bedroom, in a small house, next to a small shrine. When he’d felt his summoning charm call him he expected to rip into a board room, or a camp fire, or the aftermath of something that had gone very pear shaped. He was used to being offered souls, meat, or blood in exchange for power, murder, money; or to make problems go away in whatever manner he wanted. He sure as shit didn’t expect a teenager in a pink cat sweater to touch his ears and then ask him to help her cheat on a test.

He scoffed. But after five hundred years of the same pathetic, selfish demands, novelty wasn’t something Inuyasha was willing to walk away from so quickly. He bit.

“Keh, what can a girl like you even offer a hell hound?”

Kagome lifted her head slightly to look at him. “Anything you want. I’m a virgin-”

“Nope.”

“I am so!” she shouted indigently. She raised herself up onto her knees and glared. Yes, Kagome was turning to black magic to pass her exam but she wasn’t going to have her character assassinated by a demon. “You don’t have to be rude ya know!”

Inuyasha blinked as his ears flattened of their own accord. It had been a very long time since anyone scolded him. Another unexpected turn in this summoning. He crossed his arms and returned her glare.

“I mean no I’m not interested in your virginity. Or your soul, you humans have such tiny souls anyway.” He smirked as he saw her lip twitch with what he was sure was a scathing retort. Kagome, however, did not take the bait. Instead she reigned in her temper and bowed low again. In a much less desperate tone she spoke into the floor.

“In exchange for making sure I get into a high school that will get me into medical school I will give you anything you ask.”

“You summoned a demon for that? If you can’t even pass an entrance exam what makes you think you can survive medical school? Ya can’t offer your virginity to a demon twice ya know - how were you even gonna graduate?”

That, however, was too much. Kagome stood and stomped over to him, poking her finger into his chest for emphasis as she shouted.

“Listen here pal! I could pass that test all on my own if they would just give me some time! It’s not my fault I got sick, like doctors aren’t allowed to get sick sometimes!?” She growled in frustration, a sound that Inuyasha couldn’t help but appreciate as it sounded not unlike his own. “It’s not fair. I just need time to catch up on the material and I know I could do it on my own. But if I don’t take the test tomorrow, or I flunk and retake it, that’s it, my reputation will never recover even if my grade point average does.”

Inuyasha considered her request. I wouldn’t take any effort at all to change her score on the exam. But then he’d be back to aimlessly wandering until someone much less interesting with a much less, well not wholesome, but definitely more gruesome demand calls him. This Kagome stood up to him, defended herself, faced death in the eye and instead of running she reached out to touch it. While he had already decided to grant her wish, he had also decided he wasn’t quite going to do it the way she asked.

“You ain’t the only one with a reputation,” he said. He took a step back, cutting the tension and giving Kagome space to breathe. “If I’m gonna get you into this stupid special school I gotta make sure you stay there. Folks summoning me need to know I get the job all the way done, not taking the easy way out.”

Kagome narrowed his eyes, skeptical of the idea of creating an ongoing contract instead of the single transaction she expected. But then again, he wasn’t entirely wrong. What if changing her scores got noticed and she needed another fix? What if she got sick again? Isn’t that why you’re supposed to be really, really specific with genies? Assuming there were genies- but that afternoon’s events made her consider taking up antiquing as a hobby just in case.

“You still haven’t told me what you want as payment.”

“Well,” he said, “depends on what you need.” He picked at his ear with a pointed finger to feign disinterest. “To guarantee a passing grade I’ll just need something small. But to un-dead someone you cut up in clinicals will be a whole other matter,” he smirked at her undignified snort, “but not as much as convincing the class leader to take six months in Shanghai to improve your standing. But let’s not worry about that just yet.”

Kagome braced herself, but still felt the air rush out of her lungs when he finally said, “I want your right eye.” He continued quickly, “For one year, I want to see everything you see through that eye. It becomes my eye. If I get bored, I can simply make it go black. Or maybe I use it to track someone for another wish. Or maybe I don’t do anything at all; but it’s mine to do as I will.”

He slit open the tab of his left thumb with a quick swipe of his claw. “Do we have a bargain?”

Kagome hesitated. This seemed more annoying than costly- thought being suddenly blind in one eye wasn’t what she’d expected. Was this better or worse?

Did she really feel like she had a choice anymore?

“Deal.”

With one smooth motion Inuyasha thrust his thumb into her eyesocket. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground and she quickly threw both hands up to cover her face as her left eye burned. As soon as it started, it ended. Kagome blinked slowly, looking around the empty room. It looked exactly as it had an hour ago and if not for the dull ache behind her orbitals and the sweat caking her brow she might have thought it was all a dream. On hands and knees she scrambled across the floor and snatched the small mirror from the desk.

Staring back at her was one of her traditional brown eyes. The other was bloodshot, with a blown pupil, and a bright sapphire blue iris; and without her permission, it winked back at her.

#inukag week #inuyasha fanfiction #fanfiction #sneak peek #my writing #an incomplete update three days late? yeah that tracks

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thegodthief · 8 months

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Let me think of a question yes it is the ask box....... Would you be okay sharing more about the spirits you work with? I don't need like a list of details but more like, how have they impacted your life, I guess? And what is your relationship to them

As is my habit, I'll begin at the end.

There is nothing new written under the jump. Rather, it is all observations and statements I have made over time about spirits that long-time readers will recognize immediately.

"Adiutor" is a familiar given to me by Malphas for reasons only known to him. I didn't ask for her, and when she first made her appearance, it took Malphas holding me still and formally introducing her for me to believe it. She had a different nom de plume in my public writings for a while, but wanted something formal after it became clear that Malphas may have given me a familiar, but what I received was a secretary.

She has helped me with the timing of some things, and the finding of some things, the working of some things, and the interaction of some things. To receive her meant creating a physical anchor for her, which I did in the form of a simple poppet. Something specific went into the body of that poppet such that when I'm calling upon her but I'm not in the immediate vicinity of the poppet, I feel that specific something inside the proper place within my body.

(So once upon a witching night, when something tried to lure me away claiming to be her, now you know why I knew at once that it wasn't her. You can't dupe the tell if you don't know what it is.)

She will assist with Cyprianic work, but anything "purely" angelic can fuck right on out. I've also noticed certain boundaries that she refuses to cross and boundaries that she will not cross, and I think it's best for all involved that I not try to force those issues.

"Hollow" is... a friend. He's not a familiar, not bound to direct service, not a servitor. What I know of his past is that he has been wandering for quite a while and found a nice cozy place to rest in the flame of an non-dedicated candle. When the candle extinguished I thought that would be the last of his presence, but all it took was another candle and here he is again.

I first thought he was a passing fire (aspected?) spirit that took opportunity of free room and board. But the other spirits in my krew kept telling me that he was one of the Wandering Dead and that I either needed to ground/house him, chase him off, or make him pass through, otherwise there would be trouble. What kind of trouble? The kind of trouble that come looking to make a lunch out of him and decide to make dinner out of me instead.

After some review of the matter, I offered Hollow a deal: Become part of my krew and be housed, but in return he has to work to my benefit, or move on because I found what would be coming for him shortly and I was not going to risk that hard a something for that much of a nothing. He chose to stay. A suitable ceramic device was obtained and he was installed in it via a ritual that went sideways at the worst possible time because of very terrifying reasons and confirmed that Hollow was once human and that it's always a good idea to research the peoples that were in the land that you are now because they may be gone but their ancestors and gods are still very much around.

He now keeps watch over my spaces and receives tea candles burned inside his container as payment and amusement. It's like watching an old man savoring a good cuppa tea.

"Patient Caller" is the reason I looked into St. Cyprian (of Antioch) and Cyprianic magic in the first place. During my time as a [Protestant] Christian, I had it firmly embedded in my head to avoid anything [Roman] Catholic, and of that anything regarding saints, and of them anything about Saint Cyprian in particular because he is an Evil Sorcerer™ in saintly robes. (Which was also justification for that church's literal demonization of anything Catholic because if the Catholics were too stupid to realize the demonic nature of St. Cyprian then nothing else about them could be trusted.)

I had always known he was "hanging around" me, but because reasons, he couldn't approach me unless I summoned him to me first. Which I did, over a literal life-changing series of thirty days.

Let's talk about learning the hard way that fire is hot, water is wet, and just because you can see spirits doesn't mean that you can do jacque shitte about it.

I had left Christianity for over a decade by the time I tried that series of summons. Oh, I was so sure of myself and my ability to magic. So sure that all I had to do was read these well-vetted words from the Book of Oberon, and use this half-fucked, school-glue stitched ritual to get exactly what I wanted from The Spirits™ without any repercussion whatsoever because I was a Magus™!

To the surprise of none of you readers, I got my ass kicked, coming and going. I became oath-bound to get a particular ring that would bind Patient Caller to me, bind me to the life of a magician, and bind me to a particular path of magic which in hindsight is hilarious as fuck, because it's the very path that the Christian churches I was in were willing to kill me to prevent. (That ring has been obtained.)

But, along the way, I took the steps necessary to get myself and my daughter out of a very dangerous situation and to start our lives over. I confronted several of my fears. I confronted portions of myself that I never wanted to consider, much less reconcile with.

Sometimes, because trauma, it is difficult for me to interact with anything Christian or Christianity-adjacent. The fact that I have TWO bibles in my book stacks is a minor miracle in itself. Patient Caller is there to help me pull myself through those Christianity-adjacent rituals. For all my pain, it is clear that this is one of my pathways, and that it is one I am very effective in working.

Because reasons, I have a deep belief that Patient Caller is a human spirit in service to St. Cyprian, that also happens to be in my physical lineage as well as my magical.

He regards Adiutor with deep amusement and considers her presence to be a mark of achievement and progress on my part as a magician.

"Horatio" The first one. A gift I did not ask for. An entity that I have written as "Rummer John" from the start (and will never acknowledge the name the rest of y'all know him by because reasons) once plucked a skull from his table and handed it to me with no instruction other than to take it.

Bloody fucking hell, I was so god damn naïve. Grade-A Dumbass. No knowledge or understanding of what RJ had done. No consideration of the responsibility that had just been forced on me. Just glitter and butterflies and isn't it unethical for me, a descendant of slaves, to be the master of a spirit tee hee? This is a modern time and these are modern ways and aren't people like me supposed to be working for the enlightenment of humanity as a whole and the raising of the global consciousness? Shouldn't I be working to free the spirit trapped in the skull than to, I dunno, put the spirit to work?

The White Magic (pun very fucking much intended) that I had been taught by those few practitioners I had found around my town had taught me that I had a duty to only work good works and that the lesser, primitive magics that involved binding the spirits of the dead was unethical and the mark of a wounded soul. The few that I felt safe telling my story to impressed upon me a necessity to release Horatio "into the Light™" as soon as possible.

I found out the hard way that RJ had bound Horatio to me in such a way that the only way to release him from my service is for me to die first. Like. Literal death.

I didn't know what to do with him, so I let him do anything. A couple of years of bullshit later, he allowed me to get hurt by an avoidable harm that left physical marks. I finally realized I was way over my head and sought council of someone I trusted. That someone dragged me through the school of hard knocks while also teaching me how to be a spirit's master, and of that all I can say is that there is nothing in mainstream culture that will ever prepare you for the world of the spirits. The only way to cross that river is to get in, learn to swim, and hope you survive the effort.

Horatio earned that moniker when he found out that I had been writing publicly of him but using a name other than what he had given me. He demanded to be called "Yorick" after that one reference in that one play, but by that time I was starting to get tired of his shit and said no, that I would write "Horatio" instead because he didn't earn the right to be called out with respect. (It is a common error to say the name of the skull in that play is Horatio instead of Yorick. And the skull in that play is regarded reverently for reasons far beyond what I can get into here. But trust me, the 'misname' was a deliberate slight.)

In time I learned that Horatio could intervene for me regarding a certain class of spirits. A class that I was excluded from direct interaction with because of my (lack of) upbringing and cultural descent. In exploring that possibility, I learned more about myself, my heritage(s) that my family lineages did not want to acknowledge, and that some connections can and will jump barriers deliberate and ignorant.

He is currently keeping watch over my space with Hollow, with whom he superficially bickers with even as they watch each other's metaphorical backs. But as my studies into what I can and can't do keep turning in upon itself, I have a strong feeling that I am going to bring him back to the fore.

There are others. Ancestors. Gods. Powers. Forces of the land. Angels of divinity. Angels that have nothing to do with divinity. Things I see awake. Things I see in dreams. Things I see when 'hypnogogia' is too sterile a word for the state I am in. There is a dragon I pass to and from work but our worlds are not aligned well anymore so we just nod in mutual muted awareness as I go.

There are entities that I will no longer speak of because the world has changed and what was a trivial thing to muse upon before would be disrespectful to whisper in code now.

There are entities I encountered in oath-bound rituals that I can't speak of, and entities that I had encountered prior to those rituals, but because of their involvement, I will never speak publicly of them again.

I really thought my world had become small and that I had lost sight of so much. But in working out what to write here and what to write about, I realize that I haven't lost sight of anything. I just forgot to look up. I had... am... permitting the mundanity of taxes and reports and meetings to take over space that had been set aside for the world that encompasses such things.

I thought I had lost my touch.

I forgot what it is to feel.

Okay. Let's go.

#Keri answers an ask.#vistorille

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audhdwitch · 8 months

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all of the fucking housing spells i've been casting

(a lot of these happened around the same time but i don't remember exactly which order any of this happened. remember: always write down your process when it's fresh in your mind. except for when you're going to be homeless in 3 weeks and don't have the spoons and are just trying to fucking make it)

using "equal opportunity" symbol as nexus point in most spells

lighting candles, burning lavender oil in common spaces and dedicating household chores to hestia

set up semi-permanent altar space in the cavern under my loft bed. dedicated an offering bowl to hestia, offered some trinkets including a key necklace that i started wearing out to showings.

get discriminated against a LOT at showings lmao. absolutely no one wants to house a group of visibly disabled and/or queer polycule of kids that look like they're college freshmen at the oldest.

asked each housemate to donate something to the offering bowl; burned lavender oil and did a tarot spread about our prospects. verdict: final stretch. almost there.

start trying to remember to dedicate a small offering tray of food to hestia whenever i have the spoons to make food for myself. got to have dinner/tea with hestia a couple of times. she makes me feel unmasked. i don't feel any pressure to make myself Look Presentable before her; she is most pleased with me when i am unmasked and feeling safe and comfortable in my own space.

start trying to build hestia playlist. having trouble finding the right vibe; am somewhat drawn to classical music that reminds me of summer camp.

set up temporary altar on dining room table when housemates cook and we get to have dinner together. burn candles and leave offering to invite hestia's presence

created name sigils for housemates with consent. can't decide on a sigil for myself; using my signature seems to work just fine.

started carving name sigils into side taper candles with nexus sigil on bottom. have done this multiple times; have had burned some candles "dry" and others dressed with either peppermint* (luck, prosperity, abundance) OR lavender oil (home, hestia)

started researching crystal grids + sacred geometry. math is hard.

A has a job lined up but it won't start for a while and they're trying to get a better one in the meantime. give up on applying to "equal opportunity" but still absolutely predatory property management company that will gladly take the fee for your application for properties that you won't qualify for, and that you shouldn't bother applying to anyway, and will keep taking your money as long as you're stupid enough to keep trying

established spell parameters. i was definitely the least specific about the time frame; i mostly had the non-specific "before the end of september" floating around in my head even though our lease ends on the 17th. i did consciously decide to not specify further, hoping that by relinquishing a stricter timeline we could perhaps exchange for snagging something within our budget.

took a walk down to the beach and drew sigils (A drew one that I didn't see, and i drew the nexus sigil + name sigils) in secluded areas of sand where the rising tide would wash it away under the light of the recent super blue moon. the ocean is bio-luminescent this time of year in our area; we stood and watched the electric waves crashing onto the shore as the tide crept up.

started gathering materials for crystal grid and research more correspondences. research is not really helping me much tbh; eventually i gave up looking up how-to's and started more going based off vibes. i know literally everyone says so but it really IS better to do things in a way that make sense for your brain. if it doesn't resonate with you, disregard it.

created name sigils for pets. sketched rough approximation of configuration and started experimenting with crystal positioning. got housemates to identify which areas they could use the most assistance in (finances, stress, focus, etc). including the pets really balances the whole thing out tbh.

A applied for a better paying job that it really wants. assigned crystals for financial stability/prosperity at their request.

spent literally hours painstakingly building the final version of crystal grid configuration in image editing software. could i have probably found something that would have fit the bill? probably. i didn't do that tho. i built the whole damn thing myself lol.

family spotify plan got cancelled. rip, can't afford premium myself until we have a fucking house.

brainstorming for spell jar to use as a "battery" in the center of the crystal grid. initially conceived it as a sweetening jar to make landlords

broke up with bf. having a weird time of it. it was the right decision but i feel so bad about it. also, now that i'm no longer worrying about my relationship, i have more time to worry about being homeless.

collected dandelion puff and started drying some leaves in my space

we visit some university resources about housing and ebt.

had A rubber duck for me/got A's opinion on crystal positioning/grid balancing. am somewhat concerned about the grid overdoing it bc this is definitely the most complicated spell i've done to date; some worry based on the fact that i've been using crystals for financial prosperity/stability for M in grid brainstorming and after we got back from uni resource center M got a call from the county saying their ebt was deducted for working more hours in the summer. honestly kind of a huge blow to them; they've been recovering from top surgery and haven't been able to work for almost a month, so this is going to cut our grocery budget quite a bit.

and also... A got the job!!! great news - we can start including its offer letter with hours/ in our packet.

i do some tarot readings abt my life trajectory. oof. i have disorganized attachment style and hella ptsd. additionally, it looks like it's time for a career change; i apply for a part-time position i got an email notification for the other day.

initially was considering burning tea lights on top of the spell jar to burn off excess energy and avoid it collapsing in on itself. if feels ready to implement.

spell jar giving me trouble. yes, sweetening landlords' perceptions of us would probably help. we have been applying to places and writing personal statements and building The Packet to hopefully appeal to them, but places get snatched up in seconds here so we mostly just need to get lucky and be in the right place at the right time. also, ants are a problem and i'm a little weary of using honey (i don't have a whole lot of ingredients at my disposal)

i do, however, have a lot of bee pollen. that might work. pollen is more associated with hard work than honey (which i associate more with reward) and we just need shit to finally pay off.

at a client's house and had a slow day on the craigslist rental listings grind and was trying to burn off extra nervousness by checking the complexes we'd signed up for email notifications for. lo and behold - a single unit available, fits all our criteria and they only require we make 2x rent (almost unheard of in our area). got in touch with my housemates to start trying to apply NOW bc the way their website works, it's literally first come first serve - the second an application is submitted, the listing is marked unavailable again until the applicant completes the approval process (at which point the listing will go back up on their website).

we managed to be on the apartment complex website in the 20 minutes between the listing going live and the time email notifications went out about its availability. A submitted their app first and we called first thing the next morning to confirm that they received it - they have. we're in the system.

okay. we all submitted on friday - too late to be approved same-day, but we'll hear back from them on monday. it's the waiting game now.

try to go home to finalize the crystal grid in a more formal ritual like i'd been planning. doesn't work out; i can do it at my client's house, though. it's not ideal and i think the grid would possibly be more effective if it were housed in the place we all currently live, but that's fine. i feel safe enough in the client's house (they are so kind to me, it's like sleeping over and grandma and grandpa's)

finally established crystal grid with emphases on luck, endurance, financial stability, and a minor glamour to make us more appealing to property managers. used "hard work paying off" spell jar as battery. i suspect the crystals on top of the spell jar don't hurt us but they do feel somewhat superfluous in the context of the grid. may donate them to hestia's bowl instead; the garnet was hers already. was initially going to burn candles dressed w peppermint oil but decided on lavender oil instead.

starting to feel like "liked songs" on shuffle is perfectly acceptable to dedicate to hestia; after all, she's most comfortable when i'm most comfortable.

i actually think i'm going to burn more carved and dressed candles to charge it; i feel the hematite balances out the grid enough that i'm not risking overloading. could also be feeling more balanced bc it's not at home feeding off all four of our energies, just mine? plus it feels good to do something while we wait.

please. please. please.

#grimoire #witchcraft #spellcraft #personal #hestia deity #hestia there is some GOOD booze in this for you if you help us see this thru #edit later ?#i'm positive there's shit i forgot to write down #personal post #might delete later

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niuniente · 2 years

Note

hi! it's the anon with the "haunted" house that's been causing quite a bit of worry in your comments (whoops sorry) :D just to reassure people: i live in Finland as well, my apartment has no fireplace or gas stove or other sources of carbon monoxide/smoke/fumes except for the occasional candle i burn, so i have considered the physical world too and always do so first. the space is recently renovated too, so probably not mold either. i try to ventilate the house often and sleep with the window open for fresh air. been living here for about 3 years and these weird symptoms only showed up one night about 2 weeks ago, coincidentally around the time i bought some second-hand antique armchairs (i get chills every time i enter the living room and feel cold sitting on them so maybe they came with the previous owner's ghost or something). But anyway, last night i followed the tips you linked, went around every room with a white candle, a cross and an amulet and asked for any negative energy or presence to leave/be removed and for the space to be protected, and went to bed feeling relaxed and slept like a log! Maybe it worked or even if it was just the placebo effect of me thinking it did, but the house feels calmer now :) --- so thank you and thanks to all the people who i had worried too! sorry for the hassle, i might get a CO-alarm just in case, for fun :D

Thank you for reaching back at us :3 We seriously don't need the same safety measurements as people living in USA - like gas stoves. Never seen a gas stove in Finland! As long as you've got the fire alarm, that's good :D Your case was a good reminder to check also physical things (esp. to the people who deal in their daily lives with things which can be physically harmful if not being careful with them, like gas stoves).

When the events started with the chair, either you got an unwelcome guest with the chair or just remaining old energy lingering on the chair (like "memories" so to say). Reminds me of this old paranormal program where a medium said he saw washing machines in the old room. It somehow got dubbed by everyone that he was seeing the "ghosts of washing machines". My friend was laughing at it, saying it was stupid - and I didn't have a heart to tell the friend that the medium wasn't see any machine ghosts but lingering "memories" in the room.

Asking for energies to leave is always effective. If not, then a ritual/spell/prayer/energy work along it helps pretty much in 9/10 cases :3

#ask niu #spiritual

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amoristt · 3 years

Text

Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.

#nathan prescott #life is strange #imagine #lis

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Royal au - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu @tnpt @sarcastich

Reign au!!

*-*

Peter was nervous. He hadn't seen prince Steve in years. Not since they were both children.

He hides the shaking of his hands at his back as he walks towards the castle he once spent his summers in.

It seems smaller and more daunting all at once. Before, he hadn't known about the arranged marriage.

Now he does.

And with an attempted assassination at his back, Peter's only slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of calling this place home.

There's a welcoming party for him. Servents and maids, stable hands and kitchen staff all standing on either side of the gravel pathway that leads to the castle doors.

Peter takes a deep, shaky breath as he sees the king and queen step out. The king looks much older. Deeper wrinkles along the sides of his mouth and eyes, the skin of his cheeks not as plump as before. They sag just enough to be noticeable. And his hair is graying at the temples, thinner than Peter remembered.

"Is that what I have to look forward to, when I am king?" Peter murmured quietly, nerves getting the best of him.

"Of course not," Mj spoke at his side. "King Joseph rules with an iron fist and decite. Not to mention he has lived past two quarters of his life."

"I should hope I live that long," Peter huffed, looking from the king, to the queen. "We should have postponed until after the wedding."

The queen -Sarah- was just as Peter remembered her to be. Short, fair skinned and blond, just like Steve.

"Nonsense," Ned said, giving Peter a small nudge. "The festivities will take your mind off of all that comes with being the future king."

Peter huffs again, but begins making his way towards the royal couple. Mj and Ned are both behind him, on either shoulder.

"Where is the prince?" Ned asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Peter said, grasping his hands more tightly. It had been so long, he wondered if Steve would even recognize him.

"Is that him?" Mj asked. Peter glances from the king and queen to the left, behind the wall of servents.

Peter blinked, a quiet exhale forced from his parted lips.

"No," Peter shook his head, eyes never leaving the man that made his way towards the welcoming party, taking his spot in the crowd.

"No, that's Tony," Peter breathed. He couldn't believe how Tony had grown.

"The king's bastard?" Ned asked, aghast. "He lives in the castle?

He was no longer the gangly kid with dark hair. No, Tony had grown into his limbs. His dark hair was styled artfully, and he even had facial hair now.

Peter almost stumbled from staring.

"Oh."

Peter pulled his attention from Tony to where Mj was looking, and his eyes widened.

Steve was walking towards them. He had grown too, in ways other than his half brother.

His shoulders were broad, hair even more blond than Peter remembered, and he had grown so tall.

Peter couldn't help the giddy smile that pulled at his lips, and he nearly broke out into a run to reach Steve.

It took everything in him not to, and the two met in the middle.

"I can't believe it," Steve spoke first, looking Peter over. "You've grown."

Peter doesn't know why that makes his cheeks burn. He shakes it off though.

"So have you, your grace," he replies. "Obviously. You didn't look like this ten years ago."

He hears Mj snicker behind him and he inwardly curses. But Steve just smiles.

"You can just call me Steve," he hums.

"I'm Peter."

A smile pulls at Steve's lips. "I remember."

*-*

It takes Peter a couple days to really settle into the new routine and scenery. Mj and Ned usually keep him company in his chambers, though they've been put to work helping out around the castle when their services aren't needed.

Peter feels a little misplaced still. He's used to running through the hallways with Steve, laughing and playing and being with each other from the time they woke up to the time they went to bed.

But Steve is the future king, and he has responsibilities. They speak during meals, and sometimes Peter catches him during the day and they talk -reminiscing about their shared summers.

But for most of the day, Peter is alone. He can't help but feel a sad sort of melancholy for the months before. It just reminds Peter that he's no longer a child.

He's the future king as well, and there's been many attempts on his life since he was young and naive.

"What are you doing out here all alone, Prince?"

Peter jumps, dropping the rocks he had been picking up from around the lake.

He turns to see Tony, the reins of a black horse in his hand as he makes his way over.

Peter blushes, noting his current state of undress. His belt, shoes and stockings are all on the grass, leaving Peter in nothing but a tunic.

His feet are covered in mud, shins wet from walking into the water.

"I, uh," Peter started, brushing his hands off on his tunic, transferring the dirt onto the fabric.

"I was just exploring," he winces. Not something a future king should be doing.

Tony smirks, and Peter's heart skips a beat. He had grown into a fine man.

"I see some things don't change," he says. Peter steps away from the lake and into the grass.

"What does that mean?" Peter asked, bending down to collect his things.

Tony gives a small shrug.

"Only that I remember you used to bring in little rocks and frogs when you were younger," he said. "You always gave the prettiest stones to Steve, and the frogs to me."

"If I remember correctly, you liked frogs," Peter countered, unsure why he felt the need to get defensive.

"I did," Tony agreed. "It is good to know you haven't changed."

"You have," Peter can't help but respond. "You've grown into your legs."

That makes Tony huff a laugh. Peter blushes deep red, cursing at himself and his mouth.

"Will I see you at the wedding?" Peter asked when Tony turned to leave.

Tony smiles and gives a small nod. "It is my half sister's wedding," he said. "Of course I'll be there."

Peter can't help but smile at that, and Tony climbs onto his horse. "I would get back to the castle soon, it'll be getting dark soon."

*-*

The wedding is wonderful, and it does exactly what Ned said it would. Peter forgets all about his troubles as he dances.

At first, he dances with Mj and Ned, but Steve sweeps him off, practically pulling Peter off his feet.

Peter can't help but smile all night. He doesn't know the sister very well, seeing as she had a similar arrangement with her own betrothed. She was visiting her future husband's home in the summer months too.

As the night draws near its close, Mj grabs Peter's hand, a wide grin on her lips as she tugs Peter from the dance floor.

Ned is close behind, the three of them running down the dark halls.

Peter doesn't know where they're going, but he can't help but be relieved at the reprieve from the festivities.

The room Mj takes them to is small and cramped. Hidden behind a curtain. Peter has half the mind to ask Mj how she found it, but before he can, Mj pulls the small painting from the wall.

What lays behind it has Peter's eyes widening. Its the groom and bride, standing in a candle lit room with four other men.

There's a bed and a bath, and its easy for Peter to deduce whats happening.

"We're not allowed to see this," Peter whispered, turning to Mj. The girl rolled her eyes and nudged him.

"Dont you want to know what to expect on your own wedding night with Steve?" She asked.

Peter's already shaky resolve crumbles, and he turns his eyes back to the room, swallowing thickly.

"They have to watch?" Ned asks, on Peter's other side. Peter doesn't take his eyes off of the two newly married as they begin to pull at their clothes, soft and gentle.

Peter feels his cock fill at the sight of the man taking the princess -soon to be queen- to bed.

"They have to watch, to consumate their marriage," Mj whispered back, her eyes also transfixed.

Peter's aching in his tunic, and he can't help the flush to his cheeks, watching as the man pushes in gently, pushing out a breathy moan from the woman.

The three of them watch until the man cums, and Peter almost cums himself at the sight.

"Go, go, go," Mj whispered, quickly hanging the painting back up.

Peter does, rushing from their hiding place and taking to the stairs. He doesn't think he can make it back to his chambers. He may burst if he doesn't find a release.

He takes a right, then a left until he's so deep in the castle that the only people who might stumble upon him are the servents, and they're all busy with the festivities.

Peter gasps desperately as he leans into the wall, lifting his tunic up and pulling at the drawstring of his pants.

He closes his eyes and bites his lips as he finally gets his hand around his throbbing cock. It feels so good, Peter's knees nearly buckle.

He's so close to cumming in his pants, so focused on getting himself there, that he doesn't realize someone's walked in on him until a hand joins his own.

Peter's eyes snap open and he removes his hand, gasping as his eyes settle on Tony.

The man is close, his breath smelling like wine, dark eyes glinting and smirk tugging at his lips.

His hand squeezes around Peter's cock and he can't help but mewl, eyes rolling up into his head and hips pressing closer.

"Tony," Peter whimpered, rolling his hips. He can't help it. He's stupid on the need to orgasm, after watching the groom and bride, thinking about himself and Steve in that same position.

Its too much for Peter to handle.

"Shh," Tony murmurs, stroking Peter as he leans forward. "I'll take care of you, Prince."

Peter kisses Tony when the man's lips land on his. Hes worried he'll crumble to the ground if the wall weren't there for him to lean on.

Tony's facial hair scratches at Peter's mouth, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

Tony moves in closer, practically supporting Peter's weight as he snakes his free arm around Peter's waist.

Peter tries to warn him, but all he manages to get out is a desperate keening noise that Tony eats up.

Peter cums hard into his pants and Tony's hand, which slicks up his movements further, drawing more pleasure.

"There you go, Prince," Tony praised against his mouth before moving to his jaw, still stroking Peter through his orgasm. "Thats it."

Peter doesn't know what came over him. He leans back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Trying to collect his thoughts.

Tony removes his hand, now covered in cum, and smirks down at Peter.

Peter can't help but whimper at him, unsure of what exactly he should be feeling.

Tony grabs Peter gently by the chin, tilting his head up ever so slightly to plant the softest of kisses to Peter's kiss bruised lips.

"Good night, Prince."

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #starker #ao3 #my writing #SFSummerBingo21 #steve rogers #spidershield

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bridgyrose · 3 years

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The fandom is being way too harsh on Taiyang

And honestly, it really needs to stop. I'm getting tired of seeing the same "Taiyang is a neglectful parent" or "Taiyang is abusive and doesnt know what he's talking about" when it comes down to who he is as a person. And honestly, I think it all comes down to the fact that what we've been told and what we've seen have left gaps to fill in that some people have sorta filled in with their own headcanons. Since this is a long post, going to put the rest under the cut.

For instance, one of the first mentions that we get of Taiyang was back in vol 1 after Yang and Ruby get to Beacon. Yang mentioned it was going to be like one big slumber party, to which Ruby immediately responds "I dont think dad would approve of all the boys." Right there is our first glimpse that he's so far just a normal dad and probably gave Ruby the birds and bees talk just before she went to Beacon just on the tone alone. Either way, that's about normal for a parent.

Then, we get to the Yang's burning the candle speech. And this is where we see a lot of people condemning Taiyang immediately. Below is the full transcript:

Yang: Ruby and I grew up in Patch, an island off the coast of Vale. Our parents were Huntsmen. Our dad taught at Signal, and our mom took on missions around the kingdom. Her name was Summer Rose, and she was, like... Super-Mom: Baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters. And then... one day she left for a mission and never came back. (looks down as she says this, and Blake looks sorry for her) It was tough. Ruby was really torn up, but... I think she was still too young to really get what was going on, y'know? And my dad just kind of... shut down. It wasn't long before I learned why. Summer wasn't the first love he lost; she was the second. The first... was my mom. (Blake looks amazed at this information as Yang keeps talking) He wouldn't tell me everything, but I learned that the two of them had been on a team together with Summer and Qrow, and that she'd left me with him right after I was born. No one had seen her since.

Blake: Why did she leave you?

Yang: (sighs, then turns to the chalkboard) That question... Why? (gets off the desk and walks to the chalkboard, picking up a piece of chalk) I didn't know an answer, but I was determined to find out. It was all I thought about. I would ask anyone I could about what they knew about her.

As the reminiscent blonde starts drawing on the board, the scene shifts to a flat-painted flashback of a young Yang, with orange bows holding her brunette pigtails, looking at the photo found in a smashed picture frame.

Yang: (off-screen) Then, one day, I found something. What I thought was a clue that could lead me to answers, or maybe even my mother.

The next shot shows Yang walking down a long winding path through the towering trees shedding their leaves with a little creaking wagon pulled right behind her, a little sister in a crimson hood sleeping soundly inside.

Yang: (off-screen) I waited for Dad to leave the house, put Ruby in a wagon, and headed out. I must've walked for hours. I had cuts and bruises, I was totally exhausted, but I wasn't gonna let anything stop me. When we finally got there, I could barely stand, but I didn't care; I had made it. And then I saw them. Those burning red eyes...

In the shadows of the worn-down house the siblings had arrived at, beastly red shapes glow from the darkness.

Yang: (off-screen, while her younger self looks petrified) There we were: A toddler sleeping in the back of a wagon and a stupid girl too exhausted to even cry for help. We might as well have been served on a silver platter. But, as luck would have it, our uncle showed up just in time.

As the Beowolves leap into the air to devour their young prey, the familiar sound of a gun-scythe follows the sight of them all being cut into pieces by a caped warrior. His bird-haired silhouette fades away to present day, where Yang has just finished drawing a clockwork eye.

Yang: My stubbornness should've gotten us killed that night.

From this alone, we get a few things: the first was that Taiyang wasnt in a great spot. Losing two of the women he loved for different reasons shut him down in grief. The other thing we learn is that while Taiyang did tell Yang a little about Raven, he didnt say much. Which did fuel her steps to find out more. And when she thought she could, she waited until Taiyang left the house from there, packed up Ruby, and left.

Now, this is in no way to take all the blame off Taiyang, because honestly, he does still share the blame with Yang with everything happening here, but it still leaves us with a lot of blanks to fill in. And there's a lot of people who do take Taiyang leaving the house to be him leaving Yang in charge of Ruby and leaving the kids unattended. However, we only have one side of this. We dont have Taiyang's side, and frankly, we probably never will. But until then, we have no idea if Yang was left alone or if she was even left in charge of Ruby, or even why Taiyang stepped outside. It could be something as simple as leaving the house to do yardwork or could've been him stepping outside to meet up with a babysitter before heading to work. We dont even know how long after Summer's "death" it was, just that Yang and Ruby were young.

Which also comes down to the fact that Yang isnt blameless for it just because she was a kid. She knew what she was doing, planned for it, and if Taiyang was working off a schedule or routine, it wouldnt be hard for her to plan for it. Hell, if Taiyang never knew she found out about the shack in the woods, unless he saw her preparing for something, there's no way he could've known. And until we do get his side of everything, we just dont know what really happened. And getting his side wouldnt contradict anything either. This isnt meant to be an idea where either Yang is wrong or delusional, or Taiyang is a perfect parent. Both Taiyang and Yang can be right about events, Taiayng could've done everything he was supposed to be a good parent, and Yang could've still left without him knowing.

The next issue seems to be with his talk with Yang in vol 4, which... also seems to involve a lot of headcanons of Taiyang calling Yang stupid. The transcript is as follows:

Taiyang: You're still off balance.

Yang: What?! No I'm not!

Taiyang chuckles.

Yang: Honestly, I'm kind of surprised.

She lifts her robotic arm, looking down at it with a smile.

Yang: I thought it would be just this huge weight, but it feels... natural. They did a great job with this thing.

Taiyang comes in from offscreen, delivering a left hook right into her face. Yang's upper body rears back both from impact and surprise. She's ready to block his right hook, however, and uses the turning momentum to deliver an elbow jab. Grinning the entire time, Tai blocks it and then dodges all the kicks she follows through with. Yang switches to punches, but Tai is too on point for her. While she uses her left hand to block an elbow thrust, Tai has grasped her robotic arm and pulled it forward. The position puts Yang in the position of having her balance rely on the weight of one leg.

Taiyang: I wasn't talking about your actual balance.

He sweeps her forward leg, sending her onto the ground on her back. He leaves her there and walks over to Zwei, who happily gets the top towel for him.

Taiyang: Although, that could use some work too.

Taiyang takes the towel and give Zwei a rub on the top of his head. Zwei hums happily. Arms spread on the ground, Yang takes a breath before speaking.

Yang: Meaning?

Taiyang: (toweling off his sweat) I saw your tournament fights. During the Vytal Festival.

Yang: Let me guess. (in mocking accent) "I was sloppy."

Taiyang: No, no, you were predictable. And... stubborn. And... maybe a little boneheaded.

Yang sits up and spins to stare at her father.

Taiyang: Do you realize that you used your Semblance to win every fight after the qualifiers?

Yang: (spinning to have her back to him) So what? How is me using my Semblance any different than someone else using theirs?

Tossing the towel on the ground, Taiyang moves toward Yang.

Taiyang: Because not everyone else's is basically a temper tantrum. (laughing and crouching by her side) I'm serious! Once you take damage, you can dish it back twice as hard, but that doesn't make you invincible! It's great when you're in a bind, but what happens if you miss? What happens if they're stronger? What then? Now you're just weak and tired! You've always been one to burn brighter than everyone else, whether it was with your smile, or, well, I remember your first haircut.

He playfully tugs the hair on the back of her head. Smiling, Yang bats him away. He chuckles and gets up, walking away a few paces with Zwei just behind him.

Taiyang: But you gotta keep your emotions in check. Keep a level head, and think before you act. Your Semblance is a great fallback, but you can't let yourself rely on it. It won't always save you.

Now, the thing with this, is that he isnt entirely wrong. Yang did use her semblance to win both rounds after the qualifiers, which did make her predictable. He's also not wrong that at the time, if any of her opponents were stronger than her or could take the hit, considering the drain her semblance is on her aura between taking the hits and then activating, it wouldnt take much longer for her to lose either of those fights. But he never once says that Yang was dumb, or not acting strategic, or that she should never user her semblance. What he does say is that she shouldnt rely on it as a fall back. That she should take another look to see around the obstacles, which continues in the next part of his talk:

Taiyang: Don't be. Raven was great in so many ways - her strength, her ambition, her dedication to whatever cause she thought was worth fighting for.

He turns around.

Taiyang: I'm proud of how much of her I see in you. But, I'm glad I don't see all of her in you.

Yang: Why?

Taiyang: Your mother was... a complicated woman. Like everybody, she had her faults, but those faults are what tore our team apart. And, it did a real number on our family. You both act like the easiest way to tackle an obstacle is through it. (pointing at Zwei) That strength is all that matters in a fight. But if you just take a second look, then maybe you see... (walking toward her, stepping around Zwei) there's a way around as well. (extends hand) Come on - one more before dinner.

He knows Yang has a habit of using her strength to go through obstacles instead of finding another way around. He knows Yang is smart, he knows she can fight, but he also knows that her semblance is very emotion based. Even with meta knowledge, we can see that she gets angry once her semblance is used and her eyes shift to red with anger. Sometimes her eyes shifts before her semblance is active. And we know she fights strategically. Her whole fight with Neo was trying to figure out Neo's fighting style. But his whole point is that there are still things that she misses when she does fight and that she her strategy usually has her semblance as a fallback. Granted, we really only have 5 fights (6 if we count the breach with the grimm) where she's had to rely on some sort of strategy to win. And one of those still had all her teammates to back her up.

So while a lot of people dont think Taiyang knows what he's talking about, he absolutely does. However, he's only commenting on the fights he knows about and the fights he's seen, which was a grand total of 3 of the Vytal Festival. Which isnt a lot to talk on, but still is good advice for Yang. Now, that isnt saying its perfect advice, because he isnt prefect and uses a lot of the wrong words like how he describes Yang's semblance as a temper tantrum, while not wrong, isnt very accurate, even if it was a nod to Yang's first haircut.

And then there's the V4 E4 which has been stated by CRWBY to be the kind of relationship the VA's for Taiyang and Yang have, and that's a lot of hit or miss. Honestly, I can see how it's assholeish, but on the other hand, due to my own personal experiences, I'm willing to give that one a pass considering the two laugh at the end of it.

But what really gets me is the end of that particular scene when Port and Oobleck leave.

Port: I hesitate to ask, but is there any word from young Miss Rose?

Behind Taiyang, Yang moves into visibility at her bedroom window.

Taiyang: Not yet.

Oobleck: Have you thought about going after her? Trying to bring her home?

Taiyang: (sighs) I've got to... look after some things.

As Taiyang glances toward her bedroom window, Yang moves out of sight again and squeezes her right upper arm, looking dejected.

Taiyang absolutely worries about his daughters. And the fact that it's very much implied by the scene that Taiyang is taking care of Yang or at least trying to be there for her, that says a lot. He knows he should be going after Ruby, but he still has Yang to be there for too. And while he did make a few missteps in an earlier episode between giving the arm to Yang when she wasnt really concerned about getting a prosthetic at the time, and saying that she's still moping around, its one of those things where he's trying but he's not perfect. He understands losing part of himself, but he doesn't understand it the way Yang does. And in his way, he's doing what he can to be there and help. But with Yang not exactly saying what she'd want and just dismissing Taiyang with a lot of it, there wasn't much he could do to try to do better besides be there.

It also comes down to the fact that he's not neglectful of Ruby by letting her go off. When he saw the note at the end of vol 3, he rushed down, calling out for Ruby's name. He clearly is worried about her, but the question I have that inevitably comes up is: after he brings Ruby home, then what? And I have yet to see an answer to that question. It's always "Taiyang is a terrible parent for letting Ruby go off on her own across the world" or "Taiyang should've gone after Ruby and brought her back home" but there's never an answer to the "and then what?" He brings Ruby home and then... keeps her under lock and key? He brings Ruby home and then... denies her from allowing her to leave to get her own answers? And unfortunately, I dont think we'll ever end up with an answer on that that doesnt include Taiyang basically becoming a helicopter parent or keeping a watchful eye on a 16 year old. Which, ironically, can end up being more abusive to a person than having another adult follow behind and keep an eye on Ruby.

The last thing I want to touch on is Yang's talk with Weiss in vol 5.

Yang: (sigh) I know she's our teammate, but I'm not just going to change my mind. I'm sorry, I just... I don't think you know what it's like to be left. You have a giant family, recitals to perform at, dinners to attend. I didn't have any of that. My mom left me. Ruby's mom left too. Tai was always busy with school and Ruby couldn't even talk yet. I had to pick up the pieces. I had to keep things together. Alone. (pause) Weiss, if you have something to say, then say it.

And as much as it is tragic that Yang felt like she had to pick up the pieces and keep things together, its still vague enough that she never actually goes into detail on what she actually ended up doing. And it wouldnt surprise me if Taiyang ended up falling into his work after Summer "died", being there enough to take care of the kids but not really being there. It doesnt make him neglectful, just makes him human and dealing with grief. None of the Xiao Longs really seem to deal with grief or emotions in a healthy way, Ruby included. And honestly, that's something people need to take into consideration is that grief effects people in different ways. Acting in grief isnt necessarily a bad thing, but it's definitely something where there are wrong ways to deal with it, and honestly, it does feel like Yang, Taiyang, and even Ruby of recent, just havent dealt with grief in a healthy manner.

TL:DR: Taiyang isnt a perfect dad, but he's one that is trying. We dont know enough of the gaps to know if he is abusive or not, and while it's easy to use headcanons to fill in the gaps to give the narrative we want (such as Yang raising Ruby), its ultimately something we'll probably never get the full story of until it's relevant. And even then, getting Taiyang's side of how he acted after Summer's death would serve to add to the story as a whole of what we know and not contradict anything we've been told. Taiyang loves his daughters and is trying to be there for them. At best, he's an okayish dad who has made a lot of mistakes with trying to be there for his daughters.

#discourse #not throwing this into the main tag #yeah i'm aware i'm probably kicking another hive #but like #condemning Taiyang to be neglectful or abusive by neglect is really pushing it to me #we just dont know #lots of blank spots #lots of vaguing from Yang #maybe it'll become more relevant in vol 9 since she's going to have to face her own issues at some point #parents are allowed to make mistakes #keeping watch on little kids is essential #but not knowing the whole story is something that shouldnt allow for immediate dismissal of the idea that maybe he didnt do anything wrong #and things still went wrong #until then #its all just headcanons #and even if he was neglectful once #unless Ruby and Yang condemn him for it #its not our place to say that he cant change or that him trying doesnt matter #this isnt a post for arguing either #so I'll ignore anyone trying to argue against all of this #its just an analysis piece and me getting my own thoughts out there #rwby analysis

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conaionaru · 4 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Beginnings and endings

Synopsis: The naming ceremony and Silas’s punishment

Warnings: Murder, angst, fluff, gore

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff @heavenly1927 @chynagirl13 @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @astridbaby

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

Vanya sat in the Great Hall next to Ivar in a new white dress, her hair loose around her shoulders. She observed the marks on the table, trailing her fingers over them. Everyone around her talked, too, focused on their plans of Silas's punishment to even notice her despair.

The man from her dreams, Hoenir, sat on her right, while Ivar sat on her left. Brynja and Margrethe run around their table, serving their meal. It has been two days since Vanya returned home. She got some deserved rest, but her mind was plagued with her worries.

They wouldn't let her see her son; sometimes, when everything grew quiet, she could hear him cry. It tore at her heart, but according to the healers, she was in no state to be near a newborn. During her time on the run, she caught a cold, her fever was high, and she felt like throwing up after every meal.

Listening to the Ragnarsson, Aslaug, Floki, and Helga argue about what to do with Silas wasn't what she yearned to do. "Are you alright, Vanya?" Brynja questioned her a soft hand on her shoulder, steadying the swaying princess. Vanya nodded tiredly and leaned against Ivar's shoulder.

The Viking entwined their hands together and kissed her damp temple.

He asked her to stay in bed, but Vanya knew she had to be there, no matter how much she hated it. She sentenced Silas to death; it's her duty to help choose the way he will die. "Let's burn him alive," Hvitserk suggested once again, causing his brothers to roll their eyes.

"Slit his throat, that's what he wanted to happen to Vanya." Sigurd countered, but the others disagreed again.

"Too kind, it must be more painful and drawn out." Ivar reminded them, his left hand in a tight fist while his right one squeezed Vanya's hand tighter, to remember that she is here.

Floki raised his cup and giggled in the mad way he always does. "Skin him alive." He offered but was shot down as well. Everyone kept suggesting different methods of execution, all rejected one by one. It was getting tiring for Vanya, draining her of the last bits of strength she regained.

"Maybe you should lay down, Vanya. You don't look so good." Ubbe softly told her, looking at her with tender eyes. She looked broken, her left hand wrapped in bandages to cover her cut. There was also a bandage on the cauterized wound on her shoulder. It would scar, which she didn't care about. Ivar was right; it was a sign of survival, a proof of her strength.

She shook her head and straightened in her seat to look healthier than she felt. "I can't sleep or rest anymore. I need to be here so Silas can be dealt with. He needs to die a painful death, I promised him that, and that's what will happen. No arrows or drowning or hanging. My brother needs to suffer as I suffered; at least I am sparing him the pain of not knowing if you will survive." She spat angrily, slumping back in her chair, exhausted. How pathetic was she? She couldn't even talk without getting tired.

She sighed and moved to stand up, Hoenir rising as well. The silent stranger followed her around like a shadow. He sat in front of her hut with his sword drawn, only letting family and Brynja in. The servant found his mysteriousness and silence charming, Vanya found it eerie. She yearned for human contact, not a silent wall lurking around. Ivar spent every waking moment by her side as well, always checking on her and touching her in some way. More for his sanity than her's.

He didn't check on their son either, too afraid to leave her alone. Vanya was thankful for his protectiveness; she missed it. But she yearned for her son as well, what if he was sick as well?

Vanya made her way towards their chambers and laid down to sleep with Ivar by her side, wrapped around her like a vice, but still somehow comforting. She could feel his chest fall and rise against her back, but sleep wouldn't take her. Her eyes were wide open, and her heartbeat frantically, on guard despite being safe. Nightmares plagued her rest nearly every night, dreams of drowning, freezing, or waking up to her son's corpse in her arms.

Everyone treated her like a broken toy, too scarred by what happened to her to be whole again. In the end, Silas had won. Nine months ago, he sent her here to wither and die. And now she looks half dead and feels hollow. With a shuttering breath, Vanya slowly crawled out of Ivar's arms and into the street, walking past Hoenir, who slept by the door. She shook him awake and made him follow her to the hut where Silas is held.

"Are you sure you want to see him?" The Silent wandered questioned her, but the ginger only nodded and ordered the guards to let her in.

The hut was lit with candles and smelled of wine and piss. Two aromas that Silas always despised, how fitting that it would be the last things he would know. "She lives." A voice rasped from a corner startling her.

With some difficulty and grunts, Silas rose from his hiding place behind the bed. He looked just as bad as her. Two days in a cell, and he was filthy, drunk, and pathetic. It suited him, pain, and despair. "You look terrible."

He chuckled and collapsed back into a chair, the furniture nearly topping over from the force. "I always imagined myself immortal. Forever alive and in people's minds. And here I am. Covered in piss, looking like some kitchen rat." He spat on the ground glaring at everything around him.

Vanya took his sorry state in, tucking it into the back of her mind to remember him by. Not the cruel King with a crown on his head, but as nothing better than a beggar with one foot in the grave. "You are human, just like everyone else. Everyone dies, Silas. Even Kings."

Silas scoffs and hurls his cup towards her, the guards and Hoenir barge in but stand back when Vanya raises a hand, palm facing Silas. "It's alright. Please leave." The three men leave brother and sister alone to talk. One last conversation before Silas pays for his crimes.

Her brother watches the display of power that Vanya possesses and reached towards the last piece of bread he had left. He tore at it like a savage, disgusting even himself. All his grace and power stripped away by his sister, how the tables have turned. "You mean Father, don't you?"

Vanya looked at him, puzzled, unaware of what he meant by the comment. But Silas didn't wait for her to question him, he pointed the finger at her and chuckled. "You always talked of that bastard. Alive or dead, you worshipped him, even though there was nothing special about him. You have no idea what kind of inconsiderate prick he was."

"Father was a good person, far better than you or me." Vanya insisted, not letting him insult their late father.

Silas sneered and threw a piece of bread at her, that she batted away before it hit her face. She frowned at his ridiculous behavior, fed up with his dramatics. "Of course, you would think that you were his favorite. You were the obedient child with big sad doe eyes. Do you know what I was? I was the embarrassment, the reject. I was three, and he called me a monster. All because I didn't follow his rules."

The ginger shook her head and walked closer to Silas. "Father loved you, but you were always so quick to start a fight. He tried to make you a good king, but you rejected him, and now here we are."

"Ah, yes, here we are. The Monster and the Gifted one." Silas swallowed the last piece of bread and spread his arms wide in a mocking gesture. He didn't love me, or you or anyone else. Osmond used people, you stupid wench! He married a girl half his age, filled her with seed, and when the child didn't meet his expectations, he threw them both away and fucked everything pretty. And then you were born, perfect little Vanya - the Gracious gift of God. You nodded along to everything and did as he said. Other than me, who had his own opinions."

Vanya scoffed and licked her dry lips to hold back the foul words on the tip of her tongue. "Father was a good King and a better parent than Mother. You spat, beat, and laughed at other children. You were always rotten, Silas. And Father knew it, so did Mother."

"I did it to get attention; no one would pay attention to the reject! Before you were born, I was the perfect firstborn. But not to him! To Father, I was the little monstrosity that refused to keep quiet about his affair. I was three and saw him fucking another woman. I told Mother, and he grew angry with me, by the time you were born, I was a bastard in their eyes. The one that destroyed their marriage, as if I was the one getting his dick wet behind my wife's back."

The princess stared at Silas in shock, Osmond always said that his son was born cruel. To think all of the cruelty, hate, and violence came from their parent's treatment. Siflaed was a neglectful mother, and it turns out Osmond was no better. Vanya always saw him as a smart man with good intentions, when in truth, he was nothing like that.

"He was a good King, true. But a terrible Father, husband, and person. Just like me." Silas smirked at his small victory, while Vanya frowned at him. "He treated you better because you were naive and gullible. All the talk of duty, putting the kingdom first and God. You were born to be a bargaining chip, just like Mother, married off to the highest bidder. Face it; there is no kindness in our blood."

"I am not you or them!" Vanya insisted, causing Silas to laugh.

"If that's what you like to believe."

Vanya slammed her hands against the table, startling Silas. She huffed and got in his face, her eyes as cold as ice. "You did horrible things to me and everyone around you. I am nothing like you."

"If you want to blame anyone, then blame Stithulf."

"Stithulf didn't order men to murder three people!" Vanya spat at him, remembering the blonde man who talked to her about Silas as a King. How charming he seemed, the two-faced bastard.

"He reminded me what a threat you and your child pose to my reign. He told me the only way to ensure my glory and throne was to kill anyone who wants to take it away. First you and your child, then Mother's brother Æthelric. He said I was meant to rule, that the world would remember me. And they will. These heathens of yours will kill me, probably torture as well. And the church will name me a martyr for my faith, and history will remember me as Silas the Great." Silas boasted, throwing his arms around and nearly falling out of his chair in the process.

Vanya shook her head and looked at the cross on his desk, the one he gifted her, their father's cross. "Only those who lived a righteous life can be names martyrs. You executed, hurt, and humiliated people. You are no saint, Silas, and the church won't care for your death. Terrible people don't go to heaven."

The older Saxon rose from the chair and leaned against the table, looking into his wine cup. "Then, I shall see you in Hell. That's where you heathen scum will all go. And we can burn side by side as we did in our cribs." He raised his cup and downed it in one go before letting it slip through his fingers and hit the ground. "Farewell, Sister."

He stumbled towards his bed and collapsed on it face first, his white shirt falling lower, exposing his shoulder blades. Vanya watched his naked back, she then turned on her heel and left the hut to return to her own. She made a decision. Yesterday Ivar explained to her all the ways Vikings executed people, and one seemed perfect to Vanya now.

Her husband sat up in their bed, looking at Vanya with tired eyes. "Where did you go? Are you hurt?"

"Blood eagle," Vanya answered, confusing Ivar further.

"What?"

She sighed and sat down next to him, looking into his eyes. "The way we should kill Silas. You should Blood Eagle him after the naming ceremony." She explained as Ivar nodded, still confused about the sudden decision.

Vanya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling her shoulders get lighter. As if the weight on them dropped, making breathing easier than before. She opened her icy eyes again and stared into her husband's stormy hues. "What is it, Min elskede (My beloved)?"

She chuckled at the tender tone, having missed the endearment more than she thought was possible. "I was terrified out there, Ivar. I thought I would never see you or Kattegat ever again." Tears gathered in her eyes, her lips shaking from the oncoming sobs.

Ivar cupped her cheek and wiped her tear away with his thumb. "You are here now. And nobody will ever take you away from me. I will never let anyone harm you or our son again."

Vanya sobbed and flung herself into his arms, breathing in his scent and hugging him tightly, as if it was all a dream that would disappear if she let go. "From now on, you never have to be afraid, Vanya. I will protect you both. No one, not even death, will ever lay a hand on you again!"

Ivar kissed her temple before she pulled back and stared into his eyes, looking for any sign of lies or uncertainty. But she found none, all she saw was honesty and rage. Anger that he let anyone harm them. "You have to swear it, Ivar! Promise me." She begged desperately, afraid to ever have to fight for her life again.

"I promise and swear on my life and the Gods. I will never, ever let anyone harm you or our son. No matter what it might take to keep you both safe, I will do everything and more to protect you. From now on, you'll both be safe and sound. I oath not to enter Vallhalla if I brake this promise. I swear on my arm ring."

Vanya leaned against his chest and sighed in satisfaction, with one less problem on her mind, she slept easier. Her son's absence still plagued her mind, but the sooner everything was done, the sooner she could have him in her arms again.

The next morning, five days since their son's birth, they all stood gathered in the Great Hall once again, revealing the plan to Blood Eagle Silas. "And who will do it? Ivar can't stand." Sigurd pointed out, making his brother snarl at him.

"It doesn't matter. We can give him a chair, or let someone else do it." Vanya jumped in before a fight broke out. She was in no mood to watch them argue; the most important thing right now is that Silas dies; it doesn't matter by whose hand.

Everyone nodded, looking at the wedded couple glued to each other's hip. Vanya still looked sick and weak, but the more she clung to Ivar, the straighter her back got, and the higher she held her head. She was gaining back the confidence she gathered during her nine months of marriage to their brother. There were still bits of fear and edginess visible, but with Ivar and Hoenir shadowing her, she breathed easier.

"You are on edge." Sigurd pointed out, voicing what everyone was thinking. Vanya locked gaze with him and smiled to reassure them.

"I..." A cry interrupted her sentence; a child was crying somewhere. "I miss my son, that's all. They still won't let me see him."

Aslaug frowned at the information and looked at her youngest son for confirmation. Ivar nodded and took Vanya's hand in his, trying to comfort his sad wife. The Queen rose from her seat and left the Ragnarssons, Vanya, Torvi, and Hoenir.

When she returned, it was with the sound of a crying infant. She opened the door with a babe in her arms, cradling it softly, trying to calm it down. "Mother?" Questioned Ubbe, confused, carrying his nephew towards Vanya.

The ginger looked at Aslaug bewildered, as the older woman laid the child into her arms. "You went through hours of horrendous labor and near death for this child. If anyone deserves to hold him, it is you." Aslaug smiled at Vanya, who hugged her son closer to her, the boy calming down the moment he smelled her scent.

The child reached out with his little hand and grasped a fiery lock, playing with it while staring up at her, sniffling slightly. Vanya smiled at his teary gaze and wiped his tears, stroking his smooth chubby cheek. "Looks like he just missed his mother. What a surprise from Ivar's child."

Aslaug and Vanya frowned at Sigurd's comment but ignored it as Ivar was too engrossed at looking at the little version of himself in his wife's arms. "That is the safest child in Kattegat." Hvitserk pointed out, looking at the calm baby slobbering over Vanya's hair.

Bjorn snorted and patted Vanya and Ivar on the shoulder. "With a mother ready to burn kingdoms down and a father into ritual sacrifice? It only fits with a grandson of Ragnar Lothbrok."

The others nodded along while Vanya looked at Ivar with a raised eyebrow. At Ivar's confused stare, she smiled down at the babe. "Hold your hands out, Ivar. You should hold him too."

Ivar looked at the frail newborn and shook his head. "I will drop him, Vanya."

The redhead rolled her eyes and passed the child towards him despite his protests. "You are holding him with your arms, not your legs. Bond with him, he didn't see that much of you." She spoke softly, not meaning it in a mean way.

With tender eyes, Ivar looked at his son, noting the wiggling legs under the fur. He would walk one day, run around just like Ivar's brothers could. At least in something, the gods were merciful; they listened to his prayers and made his son strong and healthy. Just like his mother prophesied, and his son would be like his grandmother. He would have visions, Hoenir, and Aslaug were sure of it.

"Did you think of a name?" Ubbe asked, watching his serene nephew.

"Yes. But it's a surprise." Vanya revealed giggling at Torvi and Hvitserk, cooing at the babe who frowned at them in return.

In the heathen culture, nine days after a babe is born, the naming ceremony is held. Vatni ausinn is a ritual where the father acknowledges the child and names it. Ivar sat in a chair with their son on his knee, sprinkling the babe with water.

"My son, Aros!" He announced to the room while his babe everyone cheered in delight. Ubbe nudged Vanya, who stood next to him, clapping. The redhead looked up at him with a questioning look at the older males smug look.

"From the river's mouth? Really?" He asked about the name meaning while Vanya shrugged.

"It fits, does it not?"

"I guess it does." He looked back towards his little brother, cradling his firstborn lovingly. "Aros Ivarsson."

After the ceremony, Ivar and Vanya returned to their hut, with Hoenir following behind them. Her husband was about to order some thralls to fill their tub with water when Brynja ran towards them. "Wait, My Prince. Let me do it. I would like to spend some time with Vanya anyway. If you were to permit it."

Ivar looked at Vanya in question, but the ginger smiled at him reassuringly. "Go. I could use a distraction before tomorrow. And Hoenir will be outside; we will be fine. Have fun with your brothers." She reassured him, kissing his forehead and sending him off.

The Prince and wanderer left the hut, the girls cold Hoenir sitting outside on the bench, but ignored his presence. Vanya turned on her heel to look at Brynja, who smiled at her softly, her eyes glassy.

"What's wrong? Are you unwell?" Vanya frantically ran to the other redhead's side, pulling her towards the bed to sit down. Brynja laughed at the worried mother and shook her head, her curls bouncing around her.

"I am just happy to see you again. My life would be very boring without you, My Princess." She confessed, hugging Vanya, careful of the sleepy babe in her arms. Vanya embraced the older ginger with her left arm, enjoying the affection Brynja gave her.

Truth is Brynja is her only true friend here, that she befriended outside of marriage. Of course, Ubbe, Torvi, Hvitserk, and Bjorn are her friends as well. But if it weren't for her marriage to Ivar, she would have never talked to them. Vanya liked to believe her, and Brynja would be friends even if it weren't for Ivar. If she ever were to get divorced, Brynja would still be her friend.

The curly-haired ginger had a pure heart, contagious smile, and shared Vanya's love for children. She gave the best advice and listened to her complaining without any remarks. For every complaint Vanya told her, Brynja gave two. Servant or not, she was a good girl and an even better friend.

"I bought you a gift!" Brynja cheered, letting Vanya put Aros into his crib. Floki made it for the babe from the boat meant to serve as their coffin if they were found dead. It was quite morbid, but Vanya didn't mind it that much, and Aros seemed comfortable.

The Viking girl showed her a present wrapped in a cloth. She laid it on Vanya's lap and mentioned for her to open it. Brynja was giddy, and in turn, Vanya became giddy as well, she unwrapped the gift and looked inside to see the neckline of a dress. The fabric was blue with white lacings.

"You bought me a dress?" Vanya asked, confused, looking up at the sheepish ginger.

"Made actually. It's not as pretty as the ones you make or the ones you buy. I don't know how to make dresses like that, so it's plainer." Brynja apologized, frowning down at the dress, no longer as excited as before.

Vanya shook her head and walked towards the mirror with the gift in hand. Watching herself in the mirror, Vanya marveled at the simple dress. It wasn't as lavish as the dresses Vanya was used to having, but she liked its look. "It's beautiful. I bet it's comfortable as well." She reassured the other female twirling around with the dress to see it flow in the air.

"I made it for your name day, but I didn't get to give it to you." With a bashful smile, Brynja watched the Princess gush over the dress. It took her a long time to make the dress, but the smile was worth all her frustration with the fabric. And all the times her father laughed at her pricking her finger.

Vanya turned on her heel and looked at Brynja, shocked. "You wasted money on me!" She cried out mortified, the fact that the poor girl bought fabric to create the dress. But Brynja shook her head and shrugged the issue off.

The young mother carefully set the dress down on the bed and skipped to her wardrobe to look inside. "You must choose one of mine, even if you sell it. I can't just accept a gift like that and give you nothing in return!"

Brynja shook her head at the frantic Princess and observed her rummaging through all the dresses she owned. "That's what gifts are for, Vanya. You give them out of love, not expecting anything back."

"Nonsense!" Vanya fussed and turned towards the other ginger. Brynja's smile was tired, and her eyes pleading. She didn't want anything in return, but that didn't sit with Vanya. "Choose whatever dress you want. If not for yourself, then for me. You gave me a gift out of love. So chose yours."

Brynja smiled at that and walked to the closet to find a dress for herself. In the end, she chose a purple one with long dark sleeves. "Purple. Like your favorite flowers."

"You remember?" Brynja blinked at Vanya in astonishment while Vanya mockingly rolled her eyes, smirking.

She circled the older female in front of the mirror and stopped behind her, propping her chin on her shoulder. "Of course, I remember. I always remember small things like that. But don't ask me anything important. I do forget these things very easily." Brynja chuckled and felt the soft fabric with her fingers, liking the feel of it. It was obviously expensive, but the servant wouldn't complain to Vanya. "How is your father, anyway? Is he better?"

Brynja hummed and laid the dress on the bed, neatly folding it and wrapping it in the cloth from Vanya's gift. "Stronger every day, which he keeps showing off. I think he fell in love with the neighbor's widow. He keeps running around shirtless and lifting heavy things."

Vanya laughed at the image of Brynja's father only in his breeches, smiling every time he sees the widow. "Maybe he is taking the lack of children in his own hands. Trying to create some little ones on his own."

"Oh, gods! I hope not; he is too old." Brynja gagged and smirked at Vanya, crowding closer and whispering into her ear. "I would rather make some of my own. But there are no men good enough."

The Princess sighed and sat down on her bed, looking up at the cheeky ginger. "And why are you whispering? Are you afraid that the man outside might hear?"

"I saw his face once, quite handsome. A bath would do him wonders. And new clothes." Brynja confessed, gushing over Hoenir. The seventeen-year-old mother shook her head, and teasingly smiled at Brynja.

"My, my, is someone in love?"

"Hush, Vanya! Or I will regret missing you at all!" Brynja joked back, fake glaring at the taller girl, while she laughed it off. It was good to be back and joke around, forgetting what is going to happen tomorrow.

The two girls walked to the door after the bath was prepared, saying goodbye for the night. Vanya watched her go with a small smile, thankful for her visit. She then turned on her heel and sat down next to Hoenir, who looked at her in confusion.

At least she suspected it to be confusion; it's hard to tell in the dark when he has his hood on. "I wanted to thank you for the advice you gave me in my dreams."

"No need to do that. You would have survived anyway; I had a vision of our meeting. It couldn't happen if you died before we met. My job now is to make certain you don't die from here on." His voice was smooth, yet a little bit rusty and monotone like always. She wondered if he felt any emotions or just his them pretty well.

"Then I thank you for that instead. But I wish for you to find a hut, not just a bench or a piece of fur outside of ours."

Hoenir shook his head and looked down at her cold frame. "I need to be near if somebody were to attack you."

"Ivar will be with me."

"Doesn't mean you will be safe."

Vanya sighed and looked out towards the sleepy streets of Kattegat, smiling softly. "I am safe. I am home, surrounded by friends and family. I have nothing to fear."

Hoenir scoffed and leaned back, ignoring the persistent ginger by his side. Vanya looked at him, expecting an explanation of his behavior, but he gave her none. "Say what you want to, Hoenir. If we are to spend a lot of time together, you should be able to say what you want to."

"You are very annoying."

"I know. Get used to it." She smiled at him cheekily, causing him to shake his head and stand up. Vanya looked at him in confusion, till he pointed at a crawling shape in the dark.

"Your husband's coming. And I have a hut to find. I don't want to hear anything I shouldn't." Vanya nodded, satisfied until the meaning behind the words hit her.

"We wouldn't if you were outside! That's so improper!" She scolded him, blushing madly. Did Hoenir really think that she and Ivar would sleep together if he were right outside their door?

He shrugged his broad shoulders and pulled his cloak tighter around his body. "You never know. I believe I have to take a bath, as well."

Vanya looked at him, shocked, and blushed even harder. "You heard?"

"Some of it. I am a better listener than a talker. So get used to it as well, Princess."

"Call me, Vanya. Please."

"As you wish, Vanya. Goodnight, Sleep well. Both of you." With that, Hoenir sidestepped Ivar on the porch and stalked off towards a random hut, entering it and closing the door behind him.

"Whose hut it that?" She questioned her husband, who watched the wanderer walk off as well.

"His. Mother gave it to him." He shrugged, crawling inside with Vanya behind him bewildered. The wretched man had a home all along and stayed in front of their hut instead. She didn't know if to be moved by his dedication or annoyed by his stubbornness. "Did you take your bath yet?"

"Not yet." She had her back turned to him while he sat by the tub. She put the dress away and slowly unbraided her hair. "Did you make a decision on who will kill Silas?"

"I will do it. Torvi went into labor. He will be with her, and I will Blood Eagle the little Monster." Ivar boasted pridefully, making her sigh.

She brushed through her hair and put the tie that kept it together safely away to find it in the morning. "Let's hope the Gods are with Torvi, and the child will be born soon."

"If it's born sooner, Bjorn can kill your brother in my steed. It should be me killing him! I thought I lost two of the most important people in my life. He didn't worry about you two as I did!" Ivar complained as he dragged himself towards the fire chairs by the fire and poured himself a cup of ale.

"Ivar." Vanya scolded, untying the laces of her dress. "Torvi shouldn't suffer so that Silas can die by your hand. She deserves better."

"I think so too, but she is the one who married Bjorn."

Vanya spun on her heel, annoyed by his words. She froze with her mouth open, looking at him sitting there sipping on his cup. He raised his eyebrow at her sudden silence and waited for her mind to start working again.

"Put a shirt on, Ivar! I am trying to scold you!" Ivar smirked at her flustered state and leaned back in the chair, showing off his naked chest.

"Why? Do you not like the view." He asked cheekily, making her pout and skip over to him. Kissing his lips, to wipe the smug look off his face, Vanya pulled back, raising an eyebrow at his satisfied face.

"You are a pain, husband. You are lucky I love you."

Ivar grinned at her teasing words and kissed her knuckles, gazing into her steel-blue eyes. "Good. I would be hurt if you didn't." Vanya chuckled softly and connected their lips again, enjoying being in Ivar's arms once again. "What would I be without my Freyja."

Vanya groaned at his question and slapped his shoulder pouting. The Ragnarsson frowned at her reaction, hurt by her dismissal. "I used to think you were the cleverest man alive. And here you are calling me a goddess like the rest of them. I am not Freyja or Frigg!"

Vanya stood up from his lap, dropped her dress, and stepped into the wooden bathtub. Ivar shook his head and put his cup down, looking at her seriously. "You are perfect, full of light and love. You love me despite everything I am and didn't blame me once for your suffering. Vanya, you are my wife, a survivor, and the mother of my child, far more powerful than you believe yourself to be. Min elskede (My beloved), you are either a gift from the Gods or a Goddess yourself, I have no doubts about that."

Vanya smiled at his loving words, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Do you really think I'm powerful?"

He chuckled at her question and pointed at himself. "I, for one, find you terrifying." She grinned at the answer and bashfully looked down into the water, trying to hide her blush behind a curtain of red locks. "Who else sees you as a goddess anyway?"

"The people do. And Sigurd as well."

Ivar frowned at the last part and sourly drank the rest of his ale, while Vanya silently laughed at his jealousy. "He believes me to be a goddess because I endure you. But it's not such a hard task as everyone makes it out to be. I enjoy your presence quite a bit." She smirked secretly; her head turned to pick up a cloth to clean herself with. When she turned around, Ivar's face was close to hers, startling her.

The rag would have hit the floor if it wasn't for him catching it. The corner of his perfect lips lifted at Vanya's wide-eyed stare. He seemed like a predator, watching his prey, enjoying every second of the hunt. "I enjoy your presence, as well, obviously."

"Obviously." Vanya echoed, hypnotized by his hungry stare, his eyes like a raging storm, pulling her in deeper. She leaned in to connect their lips, but Ivar pulled away and crawled towards the beds to look at their child instead. She scoffed at his teasing and cleaned herself, pouting the whole time.

She expected Ivar to leave her alone after his stunt, but luckily for her, he had other plans. The moment she sat down on their bed, he kissed her and laid her down on the furs, making love to her carefully, in case she was still in pain after giving birth not that long ago.

The next morning, they were woken up by their son, whining in his bed, hungry and rested. They both groaned, exhausted from last night's lovemaking. Ivar sat up in bed, lifted Aros, and handed him to Vanya so she could nurse their little treasure.

"Silas will be bought to the Hall after our meal," Ivar informed her, watching her for any sign of hesitancy. But there was none. She decided he deserved to die even before Aros was born, and the fact that he threatened her son's life was the last nail in his coffin. Silas would die a painful death and burn in Hell for all eternity.

"Then let's go. The sooner we eat, the sooner this will all be over. And I can gust over Bjorn's and Torvi's baby." Vanya spoke, burping Aros while Ivar got dressed. After he was done, he took the babe from her and allowed her to clothe herself as well.

When she laced up her white dress and braided her hair, she walked towards Ivar and took the babe from his embrace, smoothing down the little hairs on Aros's head. Ivar picked up his axe and put it on his belt, so he wouldn't have to return for it later. When Vanya saw this, she frowned. "Wait."

Ivar looked at her, confused, waiting for her to continue. She laid Aros down on their bed, ensuring he was secure and walked over to her husband again. She took his axe and trailed her finger the edge, testing the sharpness. The sharp bite of the blade and the bead of blood that flowed down her finger reassured her that it was indeed ready to be used.

The execution would be smoother this way, which meant the whole ordeal wouldn't take too long. No matter her hate for Silas, she would hate for him to suffer under a dull blade. He always said he deserved the best, Vanya thought that should include the weapon that would kill him too.

Ivar gazed up at her, not sure to question her behavior or not. She seemed like she was in a trance, too deep in her mind to remember that she wasn't alone. He softly pried the weapon from her soft fingers and laid it on his lap, taking her hand into his and sucking on the fingertip to stop the bleeding.

Vanya kneeled in front of him and kissed the steel of his weapon, looking up at him pleadingly. "Make him pay. For everything."

"I will."

After breakfast, everyone gathered as Floki set up the posts where Silas would kneel. Ubbe walked to her side and tried to pull her back, but she wrenched her arm free and glared up at him.

"You don't have to be here, Vanya." Sigurd reminded her from her left, also looking at her with soft eyes like she would brake. As if she was weak, but he was wrong. They were all wrong. Vanya was a survivor like Ivar said.

The ginger shook her head and mentioned for Brynja to join her. She handed the babe to her and ordered Hoenir to take them to Ivar's and her hut. "I must be here. I have to see him die. If I don't, I will never be sure if it's over or not."

Ubbe watched her determined face and nodded, Sigurd on the other hand, scoffed and walked off, obviously displeased. "What is his problem?" Vanya asked, seeing the Ragnarsson stalk off, muttering under his breath.

Ubbe gave her a wry smile and shook his head. "He believes you to be tainted by Ivar. Sigurd thinks that he is forcing you into this. That he was the one who chose to Blood eagle Silas and not you."

Vanya scoffed at the explanation and glared at the retreating figure of the snake-eyed Viking. "If anybody deserves to see Silas die, then it's me. I was the one who spent three days in the middle of nowhere, freezing, bleeding, and starving. Silas made my life a living hell from the moment I can remember. I want him to suffer."

"I understand that. But Sigurd still sees you as that timid Princess who was forced to marry Ivar. Many of us do, but you have changed. You are stronger than before, more confident as well. But you don't have to force yourself. You did nearly faint at the mention of blood only nine months ago. No one would blame you if you needed to get some air."

Vanya smiled up at the worried Ragnarsson and linked her arms with his. "Then would you be so kind as to stand with me and catch me if I do faint? After all, you are my only friend left in the room."

Ubbe chuckled at that and led her towards a place near the door to have a good view and an escape route. Silas was dragged in by his arms, spitting insults at the men in English, not caring if they understood him or not. He was pulled on top of the podium and chained to the wooden posts, while a chair was positioned behind for Ivar to sit on. The Ragnarsson dragged himself up and sat down, looking for his wife, relieved to see her with Ubbe.

After a nod from her, he raised the axe and cut into Silas's flesh, a scream echoing around the hall. Vanya watched the display emotionlessly, taking in Silas's screams. They disgusted her; she wanted to cry but had no tears to shed. It was as if her heart and mind were two different entities, disagreeing with each other about what reaction to give. She hated the sight of blood, hated his screams and pain. But found relief in it.

He was dying in front of her eyes, and she was horrified by the display. But not enough to look away. Ubbe squeezed her hand in a silent question if she was ok. She shrank back but kept looking, cringing from time to time at the violence. This is the last time she would see death; she couldn't handle so much gore ever again.

"Vanya!" Silas screamed out between his cries for mercy, catching her eye in the crowd. Vanya locked gazes with his pleading one, her eyes cold and empty, a coverup of the turmoil in her core. "Please!"

She shook her head, keeping her head held high, not showing any sign of hesitance or weakness. She wanted Silas to see what he caused in her eyes before he died.

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they who mourn,

for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,

for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful,

for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure of heart,

for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Vanya repeated in her mind, remembering how their mother drilled the words into their minds as children. If Silas is truly a martyr, then he will be reunited with God, which she doubts, but maybe it will give comfort to Silas. The blond King kept screaming as Ivar drew the lungs from his body, putting it on his shoulders, his time on earth coming short. "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." She whispered underneath her breath, seeing the life fade from Silas's eyes and his head fall.

He was dead.

#vikings #vikings imagine #history vikings #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #original character #original female character

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n-ctarinenga · 4 years

Text

New Wallapaper [ awsten knight ]

a @calmlftv birthday special! | word count: 2,302 | masterlist

After probably the longest birthday of your life, you fell back into the warm embrace of your bed.

Your day had started early, your best friends and roommates waking you up with breakfast in bed, before promptly shoving you downstairs and insisting on pampering you.

By lunchtime, you'd played an intense game of monopoly, had a sparkling manicure, tasted endless mocktails with stupid pun names, and watched all of the 5 seconds of summer cocktail chats videos on the large TV in your living room.

You were happy you'd agreed to a chill day at home for your 23rd, taking the day off work and scolding your friends when they decided to do the same. You had taken the time to celebrate with your workmates and extended friend group over the weekend, having dinner with your family the night before on Sunday before finally settling in to take time out for yourself, which your friends were happy about considering you were always the first to help everyone else before yourself. There was no doubt in your mind that you were loved by the people around you though, all of them reminding you of it constantly through the day.

At first, you didn't understand why they insisted on having dinner early, and grew suspicious that maybe they had something planned for tonight that you were yet to be told about.

"Who has dinner at two pm?" You ask, watching one of your friends prepare a filet steak just the way you like, the large fat of the meat being put to the side for her dog later.

"We do, now stop questioning it." Another answers, shoving yet another red velvet cupcake iced to look like a sunflower into your hands.

You narrow your eyes at the three of them, all glancing at each other and speaking in eye movements and hand gestures so you couldn't decipher their words.

Your attention is pulled away though by your phone that sits in your lap, a new text from your boyfriend, Awsten, filling the screen.

While you wished he could be with you for your birthday, you knew what you signed up for when you started to fall in love with a musician, and that was weeks and months on end of facetimes and texts while miles apart.

Awsten was currently on the other side of the country, but that didn't stop him from blowing up your phone any moment he could with his newest invention, birthday bombing, aka putting a party hat on anything he could find to show you that you were being celebrated even if you couldn't see it in person.

The thought alone was enough to make your heart swell with joy, but as you received yet another picture of your boyfriend wearing a line of hats like dinosaur spikes down his back, you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

At the sudden noise, one of your friends looks over your shoulder, laughing at the picture you were quickly setting as your lockscreen.

"Your man is a nerd." She chuckles, and you shake your head with a laugh, smiling fondly as you lock your phone again.

"Yeah, he is."

Little did you know, Awsten was a lot closer than the 200+ miles away you thought he was.

In fact, Awsten was currently running around Houston searching for the exact perfect items he needed for your surprise, periodically sending you the pictures he had had Geoff, Otto and Jawn help him stockpile before his flight back this morning.

He pocketed his phone after sending you his personal favorite of the bunch, his fantastic dinosaur impersonation, and returned to picking out his birthday cards for you, drawn to the biggest and most decorative ones on the shelves.

Ever since the day you told him about your lack of celebration for your birthday in your teenage and recent years, Awsten had the idea in his head to make sure you got to celebrate the special day in some way, someday. After all, it was the day his favorite person was born.

Adding a 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, and 23rd birthday card to the growing pile in his arms, Awsten walked to the counter, where the assistant gave him a suspicious look.

"Girlfriend's birthday." He explains with a smile, earning a small nod from the woman as she placed them all into a bag.

"Either you have a lot of making up to do or you have a very humorous girlfriend." She comments, handing him the back and grabbing a pen from a display beside the counter, throwing it in too.

"You're probably gonna need it." She whispers, a kind smile on her face as a grin spreads across his.

"A bit of both, and you're right, thank you." He laughs, sending her a nod of thanks as he walks out.

With the cards and your present already taken care of, all that remained was the picnic basket he had to fill and the flowers he was set to pick up next.

While you sat at the head of the dining table, your friends hands over your eyes as the other two carried and lit your cake, Awsten was already walking into the flower shop packed to the brim with fragrance and colour.

"Happy birthday, dear y/n, happy birthday to you!" Your friends cheer, eyes uncovered to see a large, delicately iced red velvet cake, very similar to the cupcakes you had been handed throughout the day, but this time with two gold and white candles lit on top, a bright and shiny 23 right in the middle.

You can't help the wide grin that covers your face once again as you make your wish, blowing out the candles with light dancing in your eyes as a friend snaps pictures of you for later.

Cake and presents are taken care of before the hour is up, and after showering you with buckets of affection all day, your friends finally let you escape for some time alone, letting you know if you need absolutely anything to just call them, all of them still heavily dedicated to their role as birthday elves.

A smile still plays on your lips as you relax on your bed, the sound of Daphne Blue by the band CAMINO playing on your record player across the room letting you relax as the day sank in, a content sigh escaping you as you recall the events of the day.

You're confused though as you hear the sound of music still playing well after the end of Honest, the needle on your vinyl travelling to the middle of the record and waiting on you to flip it in silence.

With a confused frown, you climb off your bed, walking over to your window to investigate the source of the noise.

Catching a sight of bright green, a small scream escapes your lips as you see Awsten standing below your window, a bluetooth speaker held above his head playing Blink 182 on full volume.

"Happy birthday babe!!" He cheers loudly, his heart racing as you hang your head out of your window, shock evident on your face.

"Awsten!! How the fuck did you get here so quick, crazy??" You call back, happy tears gathering in your eyes.

"For you? Yeah. Now are you gonna let me in so I can kiss you or what?" He asks teasingly, making you shake your head at him, grinning as you close your window and run out of your room, basically flying down the stairs and past your grinning best friends.

You swing the door open, and hit Awsten's body full force as his arms wrap around you tightly, tears starting to fall as you actually get to touch him again.

"Hey sweetheart." He grins, kissing the top of your head and drinking in the familiar scent of your shampoo and conditioner.

"You're home." You cry into his chest before pulling back so you can hold his face with both of your hands, still in shock that he's real and in front of you.

"And I still like you even though you're twenty three." He jokes, his hands on your hips pulling you closer to him so he can finally kiss you after so long apart.

The small action made your heart burst, the feeling of having him so close again like taking a breath after feeling your lungs burn under water. It made your skin shiver and your heartbeat race, even with your best friends wolf whistling in the background.

"Speaking of, why did you go all 'boombox outside my window'?" You ask, pulling back and frowning at him.

"I wanted to be romantic." He shrugs, making you shake your head as you laugh.

"Dork." You say lovingly to assure him, making a wider smile spread across his face.

"Okay," He pecks your lips one more time, nodding in the direction of the stairs, "there's more surprise to go so you go wait up there while I get everything else."

You try to fight his instructions for a moment, wanting to help, but give up when he gives you a look that says 'don't even try'.

It takes Awsten all of three minutes to run from your door to his car and back again, picnic basket and presents in hand as he mouths a thank you to the girls in the living room, them helping him all along without your knowledge.

Confusion washes over you as you see the picnic basket in his hand as he walks in, proudly and confidently walking towards you and dropping a bag down on the bed beside where you sit.

"Open." He instructs, pointing to the bag that you eye suspiciously.

"What have you done here, Knight?" You ask, watching as he takes the blanket from off the end of your bed to lay on the floor and opening the bag to peak inside.

"We are having a very special edition air conditioned picnic where I don't have to worry about my gorgeous girlfriend being bitten by ten million mosquitoes." He explains, still making your cheeks heat up at his words just as easily as he always had.

Awsten occupies himself setting up the indoor picnic as you take the top envelope from the bag, opening the small pastel pink package to see a very glittery, very girly happy 1st birthday card.

"Sweetheart," you laugh lightly, "I think you got the wrong card."

"No I didn't, I got you a card for every year you've been alive because we're celebrating all the birthdays you didn't before." He states simply, but it hits you as anything but simple.

"Awsten…" You trail off, opening another few cards with tears in your eyes.

"Do you… do you like it?" He asks, walking over on his knees to kneel in front of you, suddenly unsure of the gesture of the cards.

The tears start to fall as you look down at him, pulling him into a kiss that makes him melt like putty in your hands.

"I absolutely love it. I'm gonna put them all up like another wallpaper." You laugh happily, while he wipes away the tears that fall down your cheeks.

"Sounds like a plan to me. But first," He points to the open picnic basket on your floor, "we have some tacos to take care of."

You thank your lucky stars for the bright, in every sense of the word, man in front of you as you eat, happily exchanging stories of nightmare customers you'd had in recent weeks for his stories of venues that made your toes curl.

When the tiredness finally took over, Awsten pulled you into bed, legs tangling together and his arms around you once again as he fell asleep, while you stayed awake a little bit longer, reading the messages placed all through the 23 cards you had been given while relaxing back into the arms of the man you love.

You could feel his breath on your neck behind you, comforting and familiar as you finally reach card 23, a gasp leaving you as the simple but gorgeous necklace tucked inside falls onto your bed beside you.

You pick up the small tear shaped ruby gem necklace from beside you and hold onto it tightly, unknowingly moving closer to the man near squeezing the breath out of you even in his sleep.

Reading the card in the soft light of your bedside lamp gets harder as tears cloud your vision, but you do your best to push through it.

Today, we celebrate 23 years since the love of my life was born. You, not Carlos Santana. You know I toe the line of being cheesy every day, but I apologize in advance for diving over the edge for a moment. For a long time I felt like I had to escape who I was, and for a while, I did, but I lost a home that I couldn't find no matter where I searched for it. The closest I ever got to that home was your arms that night you pulled me in, and thank god you didn't let me go, because you've proven to me over and over again that I do have a home, and it's in the spot right by your side. You're the one thing in my life I know I got right, and you deserve to feel like the most important person in the world, because to me, you are. There would never be enough space in a card for me to tell you how much I love you, but I plan on letting you know every day for the rest of my life. I still like you, I still love you, and I still think you're an actual angel. Happy birthday sunshine.

taglist | @spicycal @calmlftv @irwinkitten @mrandleer @candidcal @lukeskisses @wallflowercal @brooklynsninenine @whereveryouares @everyscarisahealingplace

#awsten knight #awsten knight fanfic #awsten knight imagine #waterparks #waterparks fanfiction #waterparks fanfic

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livvywrites · 5 years

Note

“Go and die for all I care!” - tali & nora somehow pls

okay so i’m combining this with the other prompt you sent, 14 from this list. for extra angst purposes!

prompt source!

so this one is... set in the canon universe, but isn’t exactly canon??? a similar situation to this is planned, but it’s. very different. (very, very different lmao). BUT i adapted it to fit the prompt. because otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much sense.

CW: some discussion & references to suicide. under a cut bc it got long!!

"Fine," Talithasnapped, "just go and die for all I care!"

"Maybe I fucking will,"Alinora snapped back. "Beats hanging around in this lousy fuckinglife." Alinora slammed the door shut behind her and stomped down the hall.Tears burned at her eyes but she ignored them. That woman was so... she wasso...

She was so irritating!

Alinora wasn't exactly happy aboutthis either, thank you very much, but it was the only way. Nomagical solution was going to drop in their laps. There wasn't a deus exmachina waiting around the corner. There was only them versus a god--and evenwith the power they had accumulated, they were still mortal. Whathope did they have against Fate? The only way...

This was the only way.

She pushed through the doors,stepping out into the little pocket world Talitha had created. There were days,like this one, when Alinora really hated this place. Talitha was everywhere.Her magic fueled it, created it, shaped it. It no longer drew from her, but herhand was in everything. You couldn't turn around without seeing her.Which was the last thing Alinora needed--or wanted--right now.

She made for the gates. Maybe she'dvisit Elaena. Spend some time in Death's castle. Challenge Death to a game ofchess. Or poker. Or something. Anything to keep her mind off that terrible,wretched, awful woman.

Talitha slumped into the floor. Whyhad she said that? Of all the things she could have fucking said, shesaid that. To an already suicidal woman with a history ofsacrificing herself for the greater good.

Why am I such a terribleperson? She buried her face in her hands.Her only consolation was that Alinora was probably heading for the trainingroom, to ruin a few unsuspecting dummies. Lyr would probably bitch about havingto make more, but honestly, Talitha couldn't care less right then. She'd makethem herself, if it meant that Alinora had a safe, productive wayto work out her anger.

There was a distant squeal as thegates swung open. Talitha's head snapped up.

Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh, Talitha fuckingJade, you're a goddamn idiot. Shescrambled to her feet and threw open the balcony doors just in time to watchAlinora stride through the gates, head held high. Talitha turned and ran,nearly flying down the stairs in her haste to get outside.

She burst through the doors.Tracking Alinora would be hard, because as soon as she left, she probablyshadow-stepped away. But, Elaena was Alinora's handler. It wouldn't be thefirst time that Talitha had needed to contact her over Alinora disappearing.Not usually because of them having a stupid fight, though. Itwas usually Aishlynn. Or Asa. Or Lyr, once. Or. You know. Most everyone butTalitha, because normally, Talitha watched her fucking mouth.

Elaena. Babe. Need your help, please.Kind of panicking at the moment. Talithasent out the prayer, the thoughts lined with a desperate edge. Her heart washammering in her chest. Her tongue tasted of bile.

Elaena appeared, and for onceTalitha didn't even bat an eye at the way she materialized from shadow. Therewas a bored look on her face, instead of the usual bit of concern.

"If this is about Alinora,she's at the castle. Was in the middle of badgering Dad into playingchess." Elaena paused. "Pretty sure he's going to give in." Sheshrugged. "Got a fucking soft spot a mile wide. Guess you two got into it,then?"

"I said something stupid,"Talitha said. "And I want to apologize for it."

Elaena nodded. "You'll get yourchance. Go... prepare some grand gesture, or whatever it is you lovebirds do.I'll keep her out of trouble. Or whatever."

Talitha slumped. "Thanks,El."

She waved a hand. "S'my job. Godo yours."

And then she disappeared.

Talitha stared off into thedistance, over the bleak forest, where she could see the spires of Death'scastle. Alinora was in good hands, for the moment. Talitha needed to come upwith a damn good apology.

And then hope Alinora could forgivethe unforgivable.

Alinora rubbed her face. Three gamesof chess--two against Death, once against Elaena--, half a bottle of wine, anda really good spar later, and she was home. Sore and tired asfuck, but home. And dreading what she was going to find in their bedroom.

Would Talitha still be there? Or wasthis the last straw?

At the time, Alinora hadn't thoughtpast more than leaving. She hadn't thought about how it might look from theoutside. Not until her second glass of wine. She should have come home then. Butshe didn't. Instead, she took Elaena up on her offer to spar, and... leftTalitha to worry some more.

Obviously Tali would know that therehad to be very specific circumstances for Alinora to do what she was planning.It wasn't just something you rushed into half-cocked. But that wouldn't make itany easier to bear. Wouldn't make how they had left things any more comforting.Wouldn't have made it any more certain that Alinora was going to come home.

Alinora took a deep breath, andpushed open the doors.

Talitha was on the couch, lookingfidgety and nervous as hell, but also extremely soft and open in her too-bigsweater and leggings. Alinora's favorite dish was on the coffee table (oneTalitha hated dearly) and there was a mug of her favorite tea as well. Andcandles. The warm, cinnamon scented ones that Alinora only brought out onspecial occasions, because it was easier to just use magelights most of thetime.

Talitha gave her a little, crookedsmile. "So, um. I said something stupid earlier," she said, becauseof course she was just going to jump right into it.

Alinora closed the door softlybehind her, leaning into it, listening. Hoping her expression wasn't toosevere.

"And... I shouldn't have saidit. I didn't mean it. I was just... angry. And that's not. It isn't an excuse.I know better. I know that, that words hurt. That they mean things.That they can cut deep. Make scars that last a long time. And, I don't. I don'twant to do that to you? That's not the kind of person that I want to be. Not thekind of relationship that I want us to have.

"And. I'm going to try and dobetter. In the future. Whether, um. Whether you forgive me or not. But I'mreally hoping that you do, and we get to continue to this, because. You'rehonestly the best thing to ever happen to me. The light of my fucking life,honestly. And I don't want to lose you because I'm an idiot. But I mean, you'dbe well within you're rights to just. Drop me. Because I was an asshole.Majorly. Worse than I've been since---"

Alinora held up a hand. "You'reforgiven," Alinora said softly. She hadn't contemplated anything else. Hadbarely registered the words, barely realized what Talitha had said in the firstplace. All she had seen was Talitha's anger, her immediate shut down of themost obvious way to end this, before it got any worse. That probably saidsomething about her mental health, something she didn't really want to examineat that moment. "It's not like I haven't been an asshole... most of thetime."

Talitha snorted. "Yeah, but you'venever told me to--" She cut herself off.

Alinora raised an eyebrow. "Howmany times did I tell you to jump off a cliff, Tali?"

"Yeah, but you didn't mean it."

"Neither did you."

"Yeah, but mine was said out ofanger. It wasn't a joke. I wasn't teasing you. I was pissed,and frustrated, and I said something stupid. It's different."

"Are you trying to talk me outof forgiving you?" It wasn't working, but Alinora was curious anyway.

"No! Yes. Maybe! I don'tknow."

Alinora snorted. "It isn'tworking. Isn't going to work either." She walked over to her, and sat onthe couch next to her. "You said something stupid. I'll grant you that.But I don't think it was out of anger."

"No? What would you call thatthen?"

"Fear." Alinora leanedagainst her side. "You were afraid. So you said something mean. Becausethat's what we do, when we're afraid. You and me. Doesn't make it a good thing.But it's an understandable thing. So. I forgive you. Because I know you didn'tmean it. I know... that you meant the opposite, really."

"I did," Talitha murmured."Still do."

Alinora nodded. "See?" Shepaused. "Besides, if I didn't forgive you, who's going tocling to me like an octopus all night? I won't be able to sleep without that, Idon't think."

Talitha laughed, wetly. "Guessnone of the others are clingy like me, huh?"

"Not even close."

"I love you, Nora."

"I love you too, Tali,"she murmured.

Talitha kissed the top of her head."Light of my fuckin' life."

#im not sorry #prompt fills #tmq #the martyr queen #talinora #talitha jade #alinora mynerva #my writing #firesidefantasy #asks and answers

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writingandchocolatemilk · 5 years

Text

A Gentle Slide

Anonymous said: "That's not exactly a good coping method" with prucan?

guess whose state just got the first snow storm of the season

On AO3. FFn.

"That's not exactly a good coping method."

Prussia looked over at Canada and blinked. "What?"

Canada looked down at Prussia's hands. Prussia slowly followed his gaze to find himself applying hand sanitizer. Prussia rubbed his hands together, a little defensively. "Do you know how filthy cars get?"

Canada adjusted his seat. "Oh, no doubt. However, that's the fifth time in as many minutes that you've applied Purell. Your hands are going to dry out."

Prussia snapped his travel-sized bottle of Purell shut. He had bought it at the airport. He always bought them at airports. Airport were fucking nasty. "Not that it matters."

Canada rolled his eyes. "Will you calm down?"

Prussia pointed at him. "Don't do that, don't act like I'm overreacting. You're not reacting enough. We are going to die out here."

"Oh my God," Canada breathed, "I called a tow truck."

Prussia looked miserably out the window of Canada's tiny, fuel-efficient, two-wheel drive, hybrid piece of carboard. The snow continued to pour down like rain, the whole world one gray mass, blended together.

Canada fiddled with the windshield wipers. "Aren't you from Germany? Aren't you part of Germany? Don't you have snow?"

"Yes, of course we have snow." Prussia even skied when he had the spare time.

"Didn't you fight against Russia?"

Prussia rolled his eyes. "I couldn't tell you the number of times I have throttled that psycho in the snow."

Canada tapped the window. "And you're afraid of sitting in a car, with heating, in the snow after all that?"

Prussia shook his head. "No, this is different. It's very, very hard to die when you're leading an army through the snow. You can huddle together, you know?"

"Like penguins," Canada said mildly.

"Yes, but manly penguins." Prussia gestured to the winter wonderland around them. "We're in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. No one knows where we are. Germany doesn't even know where I am. I don't have signal."

Canada crossed his arms. "You refuse to buy an international plan."

"Oh, sorry I didn't expect to get stranded in the middle of your country. I thought it would be a nice, relaxing visit. Crack open some beers, play some video games, watch you do paperwork because you're a hard worker or whatever. And now?" Prussia rested his head against the window. "Doom."

Canada shifted in his seat. "Well…"

Prussia looked at him. "Well what?"

Canada gave a little, innocent shrug, eyes drifting over to the radio. "Well, we are only out because you wanted beer in the middle of a blizzard."

Prussia gaped at him. "How dare you."

Canada was clearly fighting to keep the smile off of his face.

Prussia was at a loss. Did Canada just accuse him of getting them into this situation? "Okay, there are many things wrong with that sentence, and I'm going to go through all of them. One." Prussia held up one finger. "You assured me you could drive through this mess."

Canada, reflexively: "I can."

Prussia gestured wildly around the cabin of the car. "And yet we're in a ditch!"

"Oh, it's just a snowbank."

Prussia held up a second finger. "You knew about the blizzard and didn't stock up on booze. It's a staple to stock up on booze and get drunk during blizzards."

Canada didn't look convinced by this. "I'm not an alcoholic."

"And if the power went off? What would we have done? Played Monopoly by candle light? Monopoly is only ever fun piss drunk, and I should know." Prussia realized this made him sound like an alcoholic. "Not that I'm an alcoholic."

Canada let out a noncommittal noise.

Prussia wouldn't let that hurt his feelings. "Third." Prussia held up another finger. "You decided to bring us to your creepy, serial killer-cabin in the middle of nowhere. We were guaranteed to, firstly, get snowed in and stuck up there, and secondly, to lose power, which leads back into issue number two with your this is my fault argument."

"It's scenic."

"If you had brought us to your nice apartment in Montreal, we could have ordered pizza and walked to the liquor store." Prussia let his hands drop into his lap. "Ergo, this is your fault, not mine."

Canada considered these points, nodding slowly. He hummed like he had come to a realization. "Counterargument: I bought fucking wine."

"You and I both know wine isn't alcohol."

"And you and I both know wine is stronger than beer and is the better alcohol."

Prussia was on the edge of opening the door and running away from this conversation. He could feel himself getting stupidly angry because beer was a man's drink. Instead: "Either way, you're the one who drove us into the ditch."

"Okay, it is a snow," Canada pronounced the words clearly and slowly, "bank. And I still think that you set us on this course of events because of your stupid 'beer is manly' reasoning."

Prussia opened his mouth and then caught sight of exactly how hard it was snowing. It was coming down in buckets. It looked like rain. Prussia realized that Canada didn't drive a giant car like he did. He drove the piece of shit Prius, which was low to the ground.

"Canada," Prussia said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I have something very important to discuss with you."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Okay?"

Prussia very calmly pointed outside the window. "We can't let the snow cover the exhaust pipe."

Canada rolled his eyes. "I drive a Prius, Prussia."

"You don't drive a fully electric car though, do you? You still produce carbon monoxide and that will definitely kill us if we let the tailpipe get covered by snow."

Canada shrugged again. "Feel free to clear it out."

Prussia hesitated. It was. Very cold outside. And blizzarding. And he hadn't brought his gloves because he didn't think he was going to get fucking stranded in the middle of a blizzard. He thought he would be outside for two minutes, max.

Plus, it had not been Prussia who had gotten them into this mess. "No, you."

Canada patted his dashboard fondly. "I trust her not to kill me. You're the one with doubt in your heart."

Prussia shook his head. "I have died of hypothermia. I'm not doing that again. It was probably the worst time. It took, like, a year for me to feel my toes again. It took like a month for them to thaw me out."

Canada raised his eyebrows. "Really? I haven't heard this story."

Prussia opened the hand sanitizer. "It's not a very becoming story. I was leading a group—a smaller group—to try and flank… God, maybe Russia's men? But, since it was fucking blizzarding outside, visibility was lacking, to say the least. My men managed to find the army. I did not."

Canada reached over and took the Purell from him.

Prussia cleared his throat. "So, I have already frozen my ass off. Your turn."

Canada gave him a small, soft smile. "Who hasn't died of hypothermia?"

Prussia's hands felt grimy. "You terrify me, you know that?"

"Listen, I have been to the arctic. I have been on a ton of expeditions. It happens."

"Oh my God."

Canada shrugged. "So, it's either facing the cold or facing the carbon monoxide."

Neither option was appealing. "Where is this tow truck?"

Canada looked out the window. "Actually, that's a good question."

Prussia let his head fall back against the head rest. "We're going to die."

Canada let out a sigh and opened his door. He threw the car into neutral and stepped out into the swirling snowflakes outside. Prussia thought for a horrified second Canada was leaving him to freeze to death, but then the headlights illuminated Canada in front of the car.

Canada gave the car a shove.

Prussia groaned and then opened the door. "Alright, alright, I'll help."

Canada gave the car another shove. "That would be great, yeah."

Prussia joined Canada at the front of the car. The metal was very, very cold. Stupid fucking Prius. "Alright, one, two, three!" They gave it a shove. It stayed firmly in the ditch.

"Fuck," Prussia muttered. "Okay, again!"

It was raining ice. The snow, up in the stratosphere—or where ever the fuck rain and snow formed, Prussia couldn't remember because his brain was freezing in his skull—the snow had frozen into tiny, ice-pellets that were hailing from the sky. It felt like bullets hitting his face.

It was actually painful. It stung. It burned.

Prussia let out a miserable little noise. "Your stratosphere is trying to murder me."

"It's the troposphere."

"Fuck," Prussia said, deeply, with feeling. "One, two, three!" An ice pellet hit Prussia in the eye. "Again!" he bellowed, turning his 'I want to cry' feelings into 'angry' feelings.

Finally, the car groaned and rocked back an few centimeters—

Prussia threw his hands in the air. "Success!"

-and then promptly rocked back forward.

Canada cracked his knuckles. "We have it warmed up now, don't worry."

A final push got the car back onto the road, or close enough to where the road was underneath all the snow.

They returned to the warmth of the car. Prussia stuck his hands in front of the air vents, teeth chattering. That was misery, but fuck that ditch, they had pulled through.

Canada turned off the hazards. "Now, are we still going to the liquor store, or have you come to your senses?"

There were two paths here. Either Prussia could drink real alcohol, or Prussia could get out of this shitty car and shitty weather and actually enjoy his time with Canada. The decision was not as easy as one might imagine. "Listen, don't tell France or Spain I consented to drink wine. I'm begging you."

Canada rolled his eyes. He put his car into drive and then tossed something into Prussia's lap. "Hand lotion. Told you they would dry out."

#aph prucan #prucan #APH Prussia #APH Canada #Hetalia Fanfiction #writing #hetalia fanfic #gilbert beilschmidt #matthew williams

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