#an observation log of my wife

[zparkl]

[sugarsheeps]

If the romance isnt anything like bertia and cecils love, wjat the fuck is the point

[trulyumai]

To Love and Forget

Pairing: Messmer x Reader

synopsis: The red haired knight didn’t love easily, but with his wife, it was thoughtless.

Warnings: None

A/N: Can you tell this man has me in a trance? Cause I’m Messmerized ;) (Okay I’m sorry enjoy the story)

Will his wife adore him, even with the scorched bodies left in his wake?

“We should visit soon, my love. I need to restock the kitchen.”

Messmer sat by the fire, watching as crimson and amber flames caressed the wooden logs. It crumbled under such intense heat, yet he observed regardless, as the pile turned to ash.

His beloved wife stirred a worn silver pot in the kitchen. The aroma of something savory wafted, momentarily drawing him from his troubled thoughts.

“Hm? Where to?”

Pale fingers brushed the man’s chin lightly, out of habit.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been listening as attentively as usual. On any other occasion, Messmer would be beside her, aiding and showering his wife with kisses as he deemed fit. She would giggle, flashing her bright smile, and likely try to push him away before resuming her culinary duties.

But this night was different

His patience wore thin; and so did his soldiers. They lay fallen in the yellowed wheat fields, swords piercing their backs. A surprise attack had sealed their fate, led by whom? Messmer didn’t know, flames began to dance across his pink and white knuckles with a methodical rhythm.

“The town, my love! I ran out of yeast the night before.”

“The town?” The knight gripped his knee harshly with his right hand. Unbeknownst to him, his wife hummed in agreement and turned to gaze at him.

“Mmh, I thought I would go in the morning. Save myself the trouble for—”

“Darling, I’m sure whatever you think you need can wait.”

His neck turned slightly towards her, earning a frown. She grasped the light blue apron around her middle, looking confusedly at her husband through her lashes. The room grew unbearably warm, a telltale sign of Messmer’s anger—disappointment, occasionally.

She could see his blazing eyes from here. Hells, they illuminated most of the living room.

“But… darling, our—”

“Enough. Wife.”

He stood taller now; she had to crane her neck back to meet his fiery gaze.

“It’s not safe. You’ll wait.”

Messmer approached, his maroon hair swaying with each step. In seconds, he was before her, appearing torn between worry and contempt.

She refused to meet his gaze any longer, unable to comprehend his displeasure.

Yet Messmer persisted. His index finger traced the skin around her chin, urging it upward with gentle pressure.

Now he stood with a gaze of love, mingled with sympathy. How swiftly he could change—she would never understand. His emotions had become less predictable lately; just the other day, he incinerated a field when a direbear had ventured too close.

She had regarded him then with the same eyes—worry, concern. He hadn’t acknowledged it, merely placing his hand back on her waist and continuing.

Just a he was doing now, ignoring the present.

“Forgive me, my love, I’ve been ah— distracted.” Noticing the change in atmosphere, his fingers found home in her hair, they stroked and smoothed over it with newfound patience.

“Distracted?” Her head rested upon his hand now, it engulfed it instantly.

“With what?”

He laughed.

It was small— and not the humorous kind.

“It’s nothing that should ail you, darling.”

His form bent over, and she felt the man’s forehead tap hers adoringly.

His eyes stared right into her own, they were half lidded and the knight held a light smile upon his face.

“Let me do the worrying, hm?”

His nose bumped with hers, and soon their lips touched. She felt his breath waft across her lips— her cheeks.

It was warm, and smelled of a cider he had made earlier that day.

“Kiss me, darling?” He pleaded.

And who was she to deny such a man of power?

The girl leaned in, now on her tiptoes as her soft mouth collided with his chapped one.

The maroon knight let out a groan, his knees almost buckled for how much he had to hold back from the poor girl.

So as a distraction, he pulled away, and began to kiss and suck the skin of her neck, making his way to her perfect jawline.

“But what about ah— “

A light kiss.

“The food—“

Another bite.

His chin met her shoulder, his lips grazed the bottom of her ear.

“Should you worry about that now, dear wife?”

His voice was deep, gravelly from the amount of lust bestowed upon his body.

The woman squeaked, embarrassed such an action would fluster her so.

“Its just ah— what would we do for to— morrow?"

Sharply, his arms sagged down, and his hands met with the back of her legs.

Quickly he acted, and pulled each of her legs across his muscled torso.

Now face to face, the man walked backwards, towards the well worn stairs leading to their shared bedside.

She laughed, her head bobbed to the side and he couldn’t help but let out a timber one of his own.

His wife’s arms looped around his wide shoulders, and met just behind his neck.

“Do not concern yourself with such frivolous tasks, my love.” He began his kisses once more,

each laid a different love bite.

One pink

One purple

“For tonight, I found my feast, mmh?”

She poked at the pale man’s cheek.

“Who knew you could hold such a flirtatious remark?” She teased, and Messmer clicked his tongue before tossing her lightly upon the mattress.

His wife’s hair engulfed the pillows, it surrounded her like a halo and he swore he’d remember such an image for the rest of his days. No matter the cost.

He’ll see her eyes before his future slumbers

Hear her laugh before the numerous fights to come on the battlefield

Eventually, when his last breath graces his lips, he’ll taste her there, feel the breath of hers brush past his vicinity.

He’ll remember such love filled eyes

He’ll remember what she smelled like— elder flowers and apples.

He’ll remember she loved him.

And that he loved her.

[wholoveseggs]

Warmth - Part Two

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

This is just a smutty little thing about being in an arraigned marriage to a certain original vampire.

If you rather read this on Ao3- Link is here {Part One} {Part Three}

Its day two of your unexpected honeymoon, as trust begins to blossom, the question lingers—will he exceed your expectations or leave you longing for more?

6k words - Warnings: blood, smut & a little violence.

Part Two

Old boots felt sturdy beneath your feet as you stepped out into the crisp morning air. A quick glance upstairs reassured you that he was still asleep before you quietly slid the glass door open. The wood pile, near the tree line, caught your eye, pristine snow covering the ground like a hushed blanket. Despite the bright sun, you felt a chill in only his shirt, but you planned on being quick about it. Determinedly, you moved across the yard, the snow forcing you to hop a little with each step, an awkward dance to reach your goal.

Arriving at your destination, you gathered a few logs, feeling their rough texture beneath your gloved hands. With determined steps, you made your way back to the cottage, each footfall leaving a small imprint in the snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the chilly air, as you hopped your way to the door.

The idea of surprising him with a warm fire and a nice breakfast motivated you. Despite knowing little about him, you sensed his caring nature, the kind of person who always put others first. Today, you wanted to be the one to pamper him, to show your appreciation in a simple yet meaningful way. 

Entering the cottage, you found him standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. He stepped aside to let you in, observing as you kicked off the boots and tended to the fire.

"What are you doing?" he asked sweetly, his eyes following your movements.

"Sit," you commanded, pointing towards the dining table with a determined smile.

He complied, sitting down with a grin, his gaze lingering on your bare legs as you gracefully moved around. The sizzle of eggs in the frying pan filled the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You deftly flipped the eggs, the golden yolks shimmering in the morning light. Toast popped up from the toaster, perfectly golden brown. Setting the table, you placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Elijah, his eyes lingering on you.

"You look beautiful in my shirt," he said, his voice warm with admiration, appreciating your effort and the sight before him.

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you sat down across from him. "Thank you," you replied, smiling shyly.

After the delicious breakfast, Elijah insisted on cleaning up, his swift movements making the task seem effortless. You offered to help, but he waved you off, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. You ignored his request and began to wipe down the counters. Then you felt his arms around your waist, turning you around, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Surprised, you wrapped your arms around his neck, the kiss deepening, and he lifted you onto the kitchen counter with ease.

"My beautiful wife," he murmured against your lips, his words filled with affection and desire.

In the midst of the passionate kiss, you noticed a change in him. His eyes, once warm and inviting, had turned pitch black with dark gray veins snaking around them. His vampire form peeked out, a glimpse of the powerful creature he truly was. Fear gripped you, and you pushed him away, your heart pounding in your chest.

He immediately stepped back, his expression filled with regret. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice laced with guilt. "I usually have perfect control, but with this unexpected and remote honeymoon... I haven't had any blood in days."

Your fear subsided into concern. "Is there anything I can do to help?" you asked hesitantly.

He shook his head, his eyes gentle. "No, I'll go into town to find some blood. It won't take long."

"You'll come back I hope," you say softly, anxiety gripping your chest. Only yesterday did you believe he would get rid of you as soon as possible, even after your night together that fear still gripped your heart. He was, after all, still a vampire, one night of great sex couldn't entirely erase your distrust of them.

Elijah gave you an unreadable look and stepped towards you. His hand reached out, cupping the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his in another kiss. His other hand traveled up your thigh, dipping below the shirt and between your legs. You gasp, whispering his name as your hands grab at his chest, his unexpected response to your question turning you on. 

His dark eyes looked into yours as a finger found your clit, slowly teasing you, his touch igniting a fire within you. With a playful grin, he watched your cheeks flush, your eyes fluttering closed from the sensation. "What did I say last night about my vows," he whispered against your skin, kissing your neck as you let out a soft moan. "Say it," 

"You take your vows seriously," you replied, your voice barely above a breath, already wet for him.

"Mhmm," he murmured, pulling his hand away from you, his dark eyes full of desire. He played with the buttons of the shirt you were wearing, pressing his forehead against yours, he whispered. "I promise to return, and then I'll free you from this shirt."

Breathless, you watched as he prepared to depart, savoring another lingering kiss he pressed against your lips before stepping out the door. Your legs trembled slightly as you hopped off the counter, the anticipation of his return igniting filthy thoughts in your mind.

To distract yourself, you decided to unpack your belongings, only to discover that every item in your suitcase was brand new. Luxurious clothes, high-end toiletries, and exceptionally fancy lingerie. The notion of Klaus choosing the lingerie made you cringe, yet you couldn't help but appreciate the overall gesture.

An idea sparked in your mind, and you decided to slip into the extravagant lingerie beneath Elijah's shirt, hoping to surprise him upon his return. The prospect of his reaction added an extra layer of excitement to your anticipation.

You made your way back downstairs and came across another bottle of whiskey, taking occasional swigs as you perused the extensive record collection. You loved the owner's passion for 90s music, with an eclectic mix of grunge and R&B artists filling the shelves. You stumbled upon a mix record featuring various artists and decided to give it a spin.

As the music filled the room, you couldn't resist the urge to dance. Your thoughts drifted to Elijah, and you wondered about what music he enjoyed, making a mental note to ask him when he returned.

As the day stretched on, the alcohol began to take its toll, the room spinning slightly as you got a little drunk. Recognizing the need to be clear-headed for his return, you stashed the bottle away, determined to greet him with a sober mind.

That's when you noticed something strange, alarm washed over you as you observed unfamiliar footprints in the pristine snow outside the back door. Your eyes traced the tracks, and a gasp escaped your lips when you spotted a shadowy figure darting past the window. Fear surged through your veins and you reached for the fire poker, realizing with a sinking feeling that you didn't even have Elijah's number to call for help.

Panic gripped you as you caught sight of the intruder passing another window, their presence sending chills down your spine. With adrenaline fueling your movements, you sprinted upstairs, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the house, making you stumble.

In the upstairs hallway, you frantically scanned your surroundings, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. They were likely here to rob the place, and you needed a secure hiding spot. Your eyes fell on the bathroom, and without a second thought, you dashed inside. The bathroom seemed like a reasonable choice – nothing of substantial value was in there. 

With trembling hands, you crouched down behind the shower curtain, clutching the fire poker tightly. The adrenaline pumping through your veins intensified every sensation, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. The fear was overwhelming, and you prayed that the intruders wouldn't find you, holding your breath as you waited in the darkness.

The moments felt like an eternity as you hid behind the shower curtain, your heartbeat drumming in your ears. But your sanctuary was short-lived. The intruders' footsteps thudded ominously up the stairs, their heavy breathing hinting at them being near.

The bathroom door swung open violently, revealing two figures in masks. They grabbed you with brutal force, tearing the fire poker from your grasp, and dragged you out of the bathroom by your hair, your cries of pain reverberating through the house.

You were downstairs on your knees with one of the intruders, the other one still upstairs collecting the valuables.

"Tell us the passcode to the safe, and we will let you go," said one of the masked men, brandishing the fire poker menacingly.

Fear gripped you, causing you to flinch as his harsh voice pierced the air. "I... I don't know, this isn't my house," you stammered, tears welling up in your eyes.

Meanwhile, the other intruder descended the stairs, hastily stuffing jewelry into his backpack. "It's fine, let's go," he urged.

"No, man, the good stuff is definitely in the safe, and I bet this little bitch knows how to open it," the man with the poker sneered, delivering a cruel kick that made you cry out in pain.

Clutching your side, you pleaded, "I don't, it's a rental, please," your voice laced with desperation, terrified that he might escalate the violence.

"I suggest you step away from my wife," Elijah's voice cut through the room, eerily calm and deadly. Relief flooded your senses upon seeing him, his expression dark and foreboding.

"Fuckin' rich guys," scoffed the masked man standing over you. "Always got a hot young wife and no sense," he spat, directing the poker threateningly at Elijah.

The other intruder seemed to sense the imminent danger, glancing nervously between his partner and the exit. "Let's just go," he said, fear tainting his voice. "The cops are probably on their way."

"They're not," Elijah said coldly, advancing towards you, his gaze fixed on your assailant. "I recommend you drop the poker and back away from her, I will not ask again."

The other man looked from Elijah to his partner and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm out," he said, bolting for the door.

A small smirk curved Elijah's lips as he observed the man fleeing, before his cold eyes returned to the one still holding the poker. "Your friend has more sense," he remarked, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Tell me the passcode to the safe, and I'll let her go," the attacker retorted, delivering another vicious kick that made you gasp in pain.

Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for another blow, but instead, you felt warm liquid splashing on your face and hands. Opening your eyes, you were met with a horrifying sight: Elijah stood before you, holding a human heart in his hand, his face splattered with blood.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you glanced at the lifeless body of your attacker on the floor beside you. In an instant, Elijah swept you up and carried you away from the gruesome scene, placing you gently on the kitchen counter.

"Stay here," he said, his tone deadly serious, before heading back to the living room. You sat there, your hands trembling, struggling to comprehend the violence that had just occurred. Elijah returned moments later, he was shockingly clean with no remnants of blood on him, you supposed he was a bit of an expert at covering up such things. 

He approached you, his expression soft, a look of concern on his face. He carefully examined you, his eyes filled with regret and worry. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently, his hands hovering over your bruised and battered body.

"I... I think I'm okay," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper, shock still coursing through your veins.

Elijah's touch was surprisingly gentle as he assessed your injuries, cleaning the blood from your face with a damp cloth. His hands were steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded in the living room. Despite the brutality of the situation, there was a tenderness in his actions that caught you off guard.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you voiced your heart's worry. "Why do you care for me, Elijah? I'm of no use to you."

He wiped away your tears and locked his gaze with yours. "You don't have to be useful to matter to someone," he whispered, his voice brimming with tenderness and affection. "Why do you care for me?" he asked in return. "My kind killed your family."

"It's pretty pathetic to say, but it's because you've been nice to me," you replied quietly, your gaze dropping to your trembling hands. "I haven't really experienced that with many people."

Elijah's thumb brushed away the last of your tears before he leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was tender, filled with an unspoken promise of protection and affection.

As he pulled away, he chuckled softly, his eyes locking onto yours. With a playful grin, he helped you ease his now bloodied shirt off your body. "Well, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I said I was going to free you from this shirt," he quipped, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and warmth.

You couldn't help but smile. "You freed me in other ways," you said sweetly, gently touching his cheek.

He gave you a soft smile, rinsing out the cloth and continuing to clean the blood off of you. "I don't remember you wearing this when I left this morning," he remarked, his gaze roaming over the lingerie you had put on. 

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you chuckled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

Elijah's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you appreciatively. "Well, it certainly is a pleasant surprise," he said in a low voice. 

Elijah's touch gentle as he inspected your bruises, his fingers tracing the sore area on your side. His eyes, though intense, held a mixture of concern and something more complex, something you couldn't quite decipher.

"You may have a broken rib. My blood can heal you if you want it," he said softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the pain you felt. His fingers lingered on your waist, his gaze locked onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you," you replied, confused as to why he was looking at you this way, it reminded you of how he looked into your eyes the night before when he was fucking you. "Are you alright?" You asked, placing your hand over his heart. 

He nodded and bit his wrist, holding it out to you. Pressing his bleeding wrist to your lips, the coppery taste filled your mouth as you drank his blood. In an instant, the pain in your body vanished, replaced by a strange warmth that spread from the inside out.

As you pulled away, feeling completely healed, he gave you a gentle smile, his eyes softening. With a tender gesture, he wiped the blood from your lips, then captured them in his own, giving you a gentle kiss. The intensity of his gaze persisted, as if he was trying to convey something important without words.

"Are you sure you are okay?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

He responded by picking you up off the counter and guiding you to the fire. The room was perfectly clean, no evidence of a man being eviscerated there less than an hour ago. 

He grabbed blankets and pillows and assembled a makeshift bed, taking your hand and guiding you down to settle next to him. The heat of the fire seeping into your bones and calming your nerves. He was still giving you the strange look and you let out a quiet sigh of frustration, wishing he would open up. 

"I really like you too," he confessed quietly, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. The firelight reflected in his dark eyes as he turned to you, his expression vulnerable. "It doesn't happen very often."

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek then moved between his legs, leaning into him, your back against his front. His strong arms held your waist, and he started placing tender kisses along your shoulder. You let out a soft hum, enjoying the feeling of his gentle touch. 

"I can't believe I only met you yesterday," you whisper, letting out a quiet laugh of disbelief. "And now we are married and you just killed someone for me," 

He responded with a low murmur, continuing to trail kisses along your shoulder and neck. 

"Have you ever been married before?" You ask quietly, watching the flames dance.

Elijah's lips continued their tender exploration of your skin, his warm breath soothing you. "No," he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've never been married before. You're my first."

"I find that hard to believe, you have lived for one thousand years," you remarked, letting out a deep sigh of contentment as you melted into his arms. "Not to mention you are charming as hell and smoking hot," 

Elijah's lips paused their exploration. "Most of my lovers throughout the centuries met unfortunate ends," he said, his tone heavy with the weight of his long existence. "Being immortal can be a curse in many ways."

A surge of empathy washed over you, and you gently turned in his arms to face him, your fingers tracing a soothing pattern on his chest. "I'm sorry to hear that," you said softly, your gaze meeting his.

He managed a faint smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "It's in the past now," he said, his fingers caressing your cheek tenderly. "And I'm glad you find me attractive, it would be tragic to be married against your will and also have your husband be ugly,"

"Well, you're far from ugly," you replied playfully, your fingers tracing along the contours of his strong jaw. You looked into his dark eyes, giving him a sweet smile. "Husband," you whisper, the word sounding foreign as you said it for the first time. 

Elijah's lips curled into a genuine smile, his voice filled with warmth. "Wife," he replied. His hands reached down under your thighs and lifted you onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from you.

Your giggle suddenly turned into a soft moan as his hands opened your legs and he gently nibbled at your ear. "You look so lovely in this lingerie," he said in a low voice as he unhooked and removed your bra. His warm hands cupped your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You closed your eyes and leaned further into him, another soft moan escaping your lips. 

You felt his satisfied smile against your neck as he continued to explore your body, reveling in the sounds you couldn't help but release. When you tried to turn to face him, he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and held you firmly in place. "I want you just like this," he whispered, his words going straight to your core.

His hands trailed down your front, your back pressed against his front, the base of your neck resting on his shoulder as his fingers slipped beneath your elegant lace thong. His fingertips delicately brushed your clit, evoking a moan from you as you bit your lip. He responded with a low, appreciative hum, setting a rhythm with slow, deliberate circles.

The heat from the fire in front of you intensified the sensations, and a glistening sheen of sweat adorned your skin. With two fingers, he entered you, creating soft, wet sounds that filled the air. You attempted to arch your back in pleasure, but his firm hold kept you in place. "Elijah," you moaned, your voice laden with desperation, urging him to continue.

"You like the way I touch you? You are making such pretty sounds," He asked in a low voice, the heat from the fireplace casting a sultry glow on your entwined bodies. Your moans grew louder as the pleasure built, each stroke of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge.

Finally, you couldn't hold back any longer, tightening around his fingers before letting go. Your legs shaking from the pleasure. Elijah held you close, working you through your orgasm, whispering sweet words of affection in your ear.

He pressed more soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips warm and tender against your skin. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with adoration. "I've never felt this way with anyone before."

Your heart began to beat rapidly and you suddenly felt vulnerable. Your nerves got the better of you and you got to your feet, heading to the record collection on the other side of the room.

You began to browse, trying to pick out something he would enjoy. "What do you like?" You asked, looking back at him near the fire. He gave you a gentle smile, gazing over your nearly naked form. 

"Whatever pleases you," he replied.

"No, I want to know what you like," you responded, your cheeks flushed from the confession. "I feel like we're doing this all backward—marriage, sex, and then getting to know each other."

Elijah's eyes softened, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "You have a point," he said, his tone thoughtful. "I appreciate your curiosity." He rose from the floor, his muscular frame moving gracefully as he approached you. "Let's see... they certainly have an affinity for the '90s," he remarked, his fingers delicately tracing over the album covers. After a moment of consideration, he selected a Nirvana album, the one with the iconic cover of the baby in the swimming pool.

You couldn't hide your surprise. "Nirvana?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips. "Didn't take you for a grunge fan."

"I'm a man with a variety of tastes," he teased, placing the record on the player. With precision, he moved the needle, and a song started to play with a gentle crackle.

You chuckled, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. "Drain You?" you said, laughing. 

"What? It's a good song," he retorted with a teasing grin. Leaning down, he kissed you, pulling you into a lively dance right in front of the roaring fire.

With the music as your backdrop, you both moved to the frenetic rhythm. Your bodies swayed, jumped, and twirled in a chaotic yet exhilarating dance. You mouthed the lyrics at him, pointing dramatically, swaying your head back and forth. The wild energy of the music took hold of you, and your laughter filled the room as you let loose.

Lounge Act began playing and Elijah pulled you close, his hands on your hips moving you to the drum beat. "This is my favorite track," you said with a smile.

"I thought you might be a fan of this band," he teased, his swaying and dancing movements matching yours. He leaned in and kissed your neck as you danced.

"What is it about me that made you think that?" You asked teasingly, your hands roaming his shoulders and chest.

He smiled wide, his hands roaming down your curves. "You survived your terrible family, didn't succumb to their ideologies. That takes a rebellious spirit, that's what this album is all about and it's something I greatly admire about you," he confessed, his voice low and filled with genuine appreciation.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you continued to dance."Well, I guess we're both rebellious spirits then," you said playfully, your hand gently squeezing him through his pants.

He responded with a throaty groan, his fingers digging into your skin. "You certainly like to be in control as much as me," he observed, his dark eyes full of desire.

"No, I like you in control more. I've never had a lover do that before," you replied, your cheeks flushing from the confession.

"That's because they were just your lovers, I'm your husband," he said with a smile, twirling you gracefully before pulling you close again.

As the music filled the air with its raw energy, Elijah's commanding presence loomed over you, his eyes smoldering with desire. He pressed his lips against yours in a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your waist, pressing your body against his.

"This album and all this kissing... I feel like a teenager again," you admitted, your voice filled with both amusement and genuine delight.

Elijah's eyes softened, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "I feel the same way," he confessed. "Being with you, it's like rediscovering the thrill of falling in love for the first time."

Your eyes widen at his words, a wide smile on your face. "Love?" You ask, your cheeks flushing. 

"Something like it," he responded, his lips finding yours again.

Suddenly, the moment was interrupted by the sound of your stomach loudly growling. You hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the sun was now setting, casting a warm glow through the windows. Elijah pulled away from the kiss and let out a chuckle, "I'll cook you dinner," he offered with a warm smile.

You nodded appreciatively and headed for a quick shower. After cleansing the day's adventures away, you slipped into a plain black dress, feeling refreshed and ready for the evening. When you descended the stairs, the Nirvana record had restarted, and the familiar tune of Lithium filled the air. Elijah was in the kitchen, preparing what appeared to be pasta. You sat on the counter, watching him with a soft smile, he stopped his prep momentarily to hand you a glass of wine.

You sipped happily on your wine as Elijah skillfully scraped garlic and chili flakes into a hot pan with some olive oil, letting the fragrant mixture simmer for a few minutes. "That smells amazing," you commented, your gaze fixed on him as he began chopping parsley.

A smile played on your lips as you reflected on the rapid transformation of your life. Just two days ago, you had been a nervous wreck, convinced your life was over. And now, here you were, watching your exceptionally attractive husband cook your dinner in a charming cottage, accompanied by one of your favorite albums and the finest wine you had ever tasted.

"My father used to play this album while he painted," you shared, observing as Elijah added the spaghetti to the oil. "I was only five when he died, but I've always remembered that."

Elijah stirred the pasta around in the hot oil with a smile. "You know, I actually saw them live back in the early nineties."

You couldn't help but express your envy. "I'm so incredibly jealous," you replied, your eyes glued to him as he mixed the parsley and lemon juice into the dish, then gave it another quick toss.

You enjoyed the sight of him working away in the kitchen, casually dressed in a dark button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "You are even hotter when you are cooking," you comment, giving him a shy smile. "I didn't think it was possible," 

Elijah couldn't hide the hint of a pleased smirk as he plated the pasta. "Well, I suppose it's safe to say I'm a man of many talents," he replied with a touch of playful arrogance.

You both sat down at the table, the scent of the delicious meal wafting through the air. You couldn't help but compliment the dish. "This looks amazing. Thank you for making it," you said with genuine appreciation.

Elijah's smile was warm and tender. "It was nothing, my dear. I promise, when we get back home, I'll cook you something truly spectacular."

"Back home," you echoed, a hint of melancholy in your tone. "You mean at the compound? With your notorious brother." The prospect made you anxious; your adoptive family had taught you to fear Klaus above all others.

Elijah noticed the concern in your eyes, his gaze softening. He reached across the table, gently taking your hand in his. "I understand your apprehension," he spoke gently, his touch reassuring. "But rest assured, I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you, no matter what."

His words brought a smile to your lips, reassured by his presence. "I never thought I'd feel safe around a Mikaelson, but with you, I do." you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Elijah's expression softened further, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth and affection. "Good, because technically you are one now," he teased, his tone light.

You let out a soft chuckle and decided to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind. "Why do you think Klaus planned this honeymoon for us? It doesn't seem like something he'd typically do."

Elijah's lips curved into a wry smile. "Knowing Klaus, it was probably to torture me," he said, his tone half-joking but tinged with truth. "He enjoys testing my patience."

His admission surprised you. "Torture you? How?"

"I didn't expect to connect with you so easily," Elijah confessed, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

"You know, he packed me that exquisite lingerie," you explained, giving him a knowing look. 

Elijah scoffed. "That was awfully presumptuous of him," he said, shaking his head. 

"Well, Klaus was right, wasn't he?" You replied teasingly. 

Elijah's expression shifted, surprise giving way to a warm, affectionate smile. "Yes, he was," he admitted, his voice softening. "I'm glad he was."

After the delightful dinner, you began clearing the table, intending to clean up. However, Elijah gently halted your movements. Effortlessly, he lifted you, placing you on the kitchen counter with a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Where were we... oh yes," he said in a low voice, his hand traveling up your thigh, the other gripping your waist and pulling you close, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your fingers threading through his hair, relishing the sensation of his hands on your body. "I love the way you touch me," you confessed breathlessly, your cheeks flushing at your words.

"I know," he murmured softly, his fingers already circling your clit, making your hips twitch with every movement. "I love watching you come undone."

A soft moan escaped your lips as he opened your legs wider, placing them on either side of his hips. He slid two fingers inside you, his gaze never leaving yours as you unraveled once again.

"Please," you begged, your legs trembling. "Please, Elijah, I want you."

"You have me," he teased, his thumb gently grazing your clit. "You'll have to be more specific."

"I... I want you to fuck me," you confessed, your cheeks reddening as he elicited more moans from you.

"Right here on the counter?" He said playfully, tilting his head in amusement as he watched your eyebrows arch. "I think I would prefer to have you in bed,"

You let out a quiet whine, his teasing becoming tortuous, your gaze locked onto his. "Then take me to bed," you asserted, your voice a little shaky 

Your words spurred Elijah into action. Without hesitation, he picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. In a blur of movement, you found yourself on the bed, your dress torn off. A gasp escaped your lips as he climbed on top of you, his expression dark and dominant.

"Is this how you like it?" he asked, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

"N-no," you moaned, rubbing your thighs together as you squirmed underneath him. "I-i want…" 

He gave you a seductive grin and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, then whispered in your ear. "What does my pretty wife want?" he asked, his dark eyes locking onto yours, as he parted your legs with his free hand.

"I want to touch you," you replied, your heart pounding from feeling vulnerable. You didn't know how to express that you wanted something more intimate.

His expression softened and he let go of your hands, his dominating demeanor fading into something sweet and gentle. "Go ahead," he said softly.

Your shaking hands roamed his chest and shoulders, your eyes admiring his handsome face. "You are so beautiful," you whispered. Pulling him close and kissing him sweetly as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He smiled and removed his shirt before discarding his pants. Climbing back into bed, he settled down next to you, his hand tracing over your curves before gripping your waist and pulling you against his bare skin. His lips found yours, a soft and tender kiss, one hand cradling the base of your neck, the other back between your legs, stroking your clit. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers cupping his face as you deepened the kiss. 

A question had been lingering in your mind since the moment he left that morning, and you had been contemplating how to ask it all day. "Elijah," you whispered softly, the hesitancy evident in your tone.

He responded with a low murmur, his lips exploring your neck and chest, gradually descending toward your core. His caresses were a delicious distraction from the pressing question that weighed on your mind. "We'll be here for a week, right?" you asked, your voice trembling as he gently nibbled at the soft skin just above your panties.

"Yes," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. His hands dipped under your thighs, pushing them up around your hips and spreading them wide.

A hitch in your breath accompanied the sensation of his lips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, momentarily causing you to lose focus. "S-so, you'll have to leave again to get blood," you stuttered out.

He shifted his head to look at you, his once-lustful gaze now softened with sorrow. "Unfortunately, yes," he replied.

"What if you just drink from me instead?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation, your heart racing in your chest.

Elijah halted his kissing, his expression contemplative. "It's a deeply intimate act," he replied, his voice low and filled with a complex mix of emotions. "It's not something to be taken lightly."

You couldn't help but tease him. "I'm sorry, are we not intimate enough? Look at what you're doing right now," you said, your fingers running through his hair as you pointed out the obvious. "And I've already had your blood, this seems only fair," you added with a playful glint in your eyes.

He smiled in response to your remark and moved back up your body. His lips found yours in a gentle kiss that stole your breath away. Pulling back, his dark eyes locked onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. He shifted slightly, situating himself above you, you could feel his cock brushing against your thigh as he kissed your neck. With a slow, deliberate motion, he guided himself into you, drawing your thighs up around his hips and pressing his body firmly against yours.

A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you completely, leaving your cheeks flushed and your legs trembling from the sensation. He began a gentle rhythm, each deliberate thrust igniting waves of pleasure throughout your body. A soft moan escaped your lips as he continued his slow pace. "Let me know when you're close," he said softly, his teeth grazing your skin, heightening your pleasure.

You nodded, the combination of his kisses and caresses driving you closer to the edge. Your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure washed over you. Your moans filled the air as you surrendered yourself to him completely, reaching the edge of your climax, you whispered, "I'm close."

In response, Elijah lowered his lips to your neck, his fangs gently grazing your skin, and as you reached your peak he sunk his fangs into you. The taste of your blood filled his mouth, and he let out a low groan of pleasure. You clung to him, your nails breaking his skin as he drank from you. Elijah continued to move with a careful rhythm, his thrusts tender and unhurried, drawing out your orgasm in a prolonged crescendo. A low, guttural moan escaped your lips, the pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

He pulled back, licking the blood off his lips before kissing the bite mark on your neck, cleaning the remaining blood off your skin with his tongue. His thrusts became powerful and deep and his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warm smile forming on his lips in stark contrast to the raw, passionate movements of his hips.

"You are too good to me," he said in a low voice, his dark eyes lowering to your lips as you moaned in response, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. 

His movements grew harder, each thrust becoming more intense. All you could do was cry out as another orgasm washed over you, your legs trembling and instinctively trying to shut, but Elijah held them open, his strokes turning slow, deep and deliberate.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low whisper, a tender smile gracing his lips as he gazed down at your blissed-out face. "Lovely wife."

He continued to make love to you with a passion you had never known before, his every movement a perfect blend of sweetness and intensity. In that moment, as you gazed into his dark eyes, you felt a profound sense of joy at being his, completely and utterly.

His body tensed, his movements growing erratic, and his thumb grazed your clit, sending you plummeting into another intense orgasm. At the same moment, he came undone, emptying inside you as his lips captured yours.

He pulled away, his lips curving into a soft smile as he watched you, your body sprawled out on the bed, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," you gasped, rolling to your side and looking up at him, your eyes wide with amazement and satisfaction.

Elijah chuckled softly, his eyes filled with adoration as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Was it too much?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head, a satisfied grin spreading across your lips. "No, not at all. That was... incredible," you managed to say between breaths, your body still tingling.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. "I'm glad," he whispered, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. You nestled into his embrace, feeling the comforting beat of his heart against your ear.

As sleep claimed you, you found solace in his presence, your heart filled with the unspoken love that bound you, a love patiently waiting for the perfect moment to be spoken aloud.

{Part One} {Part Three}

Thanks for reading Part 2!

I'm a huge lover of 90s music, I was listening to nevermind when I was writing this and got inspired.

If you are a fan of the album -- I think Klaus's favorite song would be territorial pissings!!! I tried to add it to the dialogue but I couldn't see Elijah mentioning that in an organic way.

Also the pasta Elijah made is called Aglio E Olio -- Its fucking delicious and seems fancy when its very easy to make.

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Vega and Altair's twins

This is a story I've written for a follower on here who is doing an art for story exchange, and wanted to remain anonymous. It's a story of the birth of the twins from their own characters, Vega (female) and Altair (male) - bit of a heads up, they had a previous miscarriage earlier before they successfully managed to bring this pregnancy to term, so it is mentioned in the story. Timezone is set before any modern conveniences. Hope you enjoy...

Vega groaned, a deep, sorrowful keening sound coming from her mouth as she felt the latest in a long series of contractions finally release her from it’s grip. She had been feeling them since this morning, and all through the day until finally at the arrival of dusk, she sent Altair out to do something useful rather than fussing over her.

Both of them knew that the process of getting the babies out of her will take a long time, especially with her first. Both of them had seen enough babies born between them to know it was quite often never a quick process. Both of them knew how everything was meant to happen – but when it was happening to you or your loved ones, that threw everything out of context.

As dusk settled in, and the day started to become cold, she sent out her husband to gather firewood to both heat the house, and boil water to sterilise their tools. Altair grumbled and protested, but of course, he knew that Vega had made the logical choice, and whilst he didn’t want to leave her side in this, her greatest time of need, he knew fine well that she was in the best place she could be right now, and – he admitted – the firewood stocks were getting very thin on the ground.

Vega wrapped a shawl around her as she hefted herself up off the rocking chair she had been seated in. Still very wary about removing her clothes, she had used the excuse that she would need to keep warm until the very end of her labour to conserve her energy and not waste it shivering needlessly. Her bump was massive, protruding several inches in front of her frame – along with her breasts which had grown beyond their already substantial size during the pregnancy, both ripe and ready to feed the children she currently carried.

“Two babies…” she muttered. She had seen it happen only once, and she remembered the horrible, wailing sounds the mother made as she had to go through the ordeal twice in quick succession. What she remembered well though was the pure elation that the mother had felt after all was done, and both babies were in her arms.

She padded over to the door stepped through, then stood, resting her weight against the railing outside watching Altair put logs out onto the cutting area, swing down with his axe and split the logs into shards ready for putting onto the fire. She kept silent, observing her husband as his muscles rippled as they heaved back and forth splintering logs one after another. It was only the onset of the next contraction that broke her reverie as she gripped the railing hard and let out a loud gasp.

Altair immediately dropped what he was doing and dashed over to his wife. His hands wrapped around her from behind – quite the task considering the girth of her midsection – but he had practiced a grab which gathered under her belly and in turn, gave a small lift, relieving the pressure on her abdomen.

“You should be inside, you were complaining about lack of heat earlier.” Altair scolded.

“I couldn’t just sit there and let these happen, I need to move. And I was curious how you were getting on.” Vega retorted, a smirk on her lips, lost to Altair who was behind her. “Seems that the babies wanted to say hello as well.”

Altair let go with one hand and pushed aside Vega’s long, white hair and pressed his lips against the back of her neck – an act which sent shivers down her spine, something not lost on the large man who in this setting all but dwarfed his wife.

“How are you doing my love?” whispered Altair, his breath warm against the prickling back of Vegas neck.

“You know… feeling like I’m being pushed inside out… and right now my legs want to buckle… but that’s nothing to do with our little bundles of joy.” Altair repeated his kiss, an errant breathy groan escaping Vegas lips.

“I want to rest in water. I’ve seen how good it helps with aches and pains.” Vega announced matter of factly. “And I want it warm… so that means more wood.”

“Your wish is my command my dear. Let me bring this load in and we can set the pot to boil to warm the first bath load, by the time I’ve chopped the next we should be able to get a good cycle for as long as this ordeal takes.”

“My hero…” Vega muttered as she was cut short by the cramping sensation taking her breath away, all she could do was moan through the pain until it passed. Altair stayed glued to her until she eventually regained her composure and shooed him away, complaining that if he kept on waiting every time she had a cramp, the babies would be here before the water was even warm.

Altair was reluctant to leave, but knew he must. He walked out and grabbed the first handful of wood to take it to the hearth and set it on fire, whilst he filled the large cooking pot with water and set it away. He made 3 more trips back and forth to gather the rest of the logs that were split and put them into storage for later, whilst finally making another trip to carry the bath into the main room of the house and fill it half way with cold water to be heated by the boiling water later.

During this time, Vega made a conscious effort to not make any noise, though her contractions were unrelenting. She had almost succeeded by doing her breathing exercises (in through her nose nice and deep, slowly blow out of her mouth) and keeping her eyes scrunched tight closed, but she couldn’t help but moan through the peak of the pain. Altair kept on giving worried glances over at her as he passed her on his way back and forwards in and out of the house – she never moved from her position, just swayed her hips back and forward, rocking side to side, taking small steps raising and lowering one foot then the other in some sort of meditative mantra.

Finally, Altair said the water was boiled and started to fill the tub with the remaining scalding hot liquid. He tested it time and time again, adding a little more each time until he decided the water was finally warm enough – he knew that hot water would make Vega sleepy and may hinder the progress of the labour, but water too cool would not provide the relief she desperately wanted.

He walked out and took her by the hand, leading her to the tub. As she was about to step in, he pulled her back.

“Its traditional to be naked during a bath…”

“But I do not like my body. My stomach is all red and scoured by stretchmarks, and my breasts are veiny. I can labour in the clothing I have on and pull off my underwear when it is time.”

“Nonsense… you are beautiful. Your stretchmarks are testament to the work your body has done to grow our 2 babies, and your breasts – as magnificent as they are – are like that to do what nature intended them to do and feed our children. You are beautiful, and I want you to be comfortable. All you will do if you get into that tub whilst wearing clothes would be to end up having them stick to you and be uncomfortable… and you need to have comfort, now of all times… we both know there will be scant time for comfort when the time comes to push.”

Vega smiled, her heart warmed by the words of her partner. She knew he was right of course, but it went against all her inner thoughts to do so. She stepped back away from the tub and started slowly, removing her shawl, to the encouragement of Altair. Next was the dress, and then finally her underwear wrappings across her breasts and her crotch. Finally she was stood in the middle of the room naked, and on full display to Altair.

“Good girl, you know this is for the best.” He added encouragingly.

“I know, I know… but this…” she rubbed across the expanse of her belly “is both beautiful and grotesque. You shouldn’t need to stare at it.”

“Nonsense you silly moo!” he bellowed, somewhat louder than he intended, nerves for the upcoming labour overriding his own sense of decorum – he wanted his wife to be as comfortable as possible, and her old hangups about her body were not something that would help this situation. “You are the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen.”

“You’re right of course… it still doesn’t feel right…. But I yield to your superior knowledge. Now help me into this tub, I don’t think I can balance with this load in front of me!”

That brought a chuckle to Altair’s lips, lightening the mood as he held Vega as she stepped one leg then the other into the warm water. She got down onto her knees, then finally sat down and swung her legs out from underneath her until she was submerged in the large tub up to her breasts, her belly under the water.

Having such a large tub was a pain to move around the home when they needed it for routine wash nights, but it was always made to double up as a birthing tub, and it being large enough to move around in without being restrictive – and for Vega to open her legs wide in – was part of the intended design.

The sigh as she sank into the water, the warmth soothing the aches and pains in her back was almost musical to Altair. He stared at her as she sat there.

“What?” Vega asked.

“Nothing, I’m just amazed by you. Let me get the next load of water on to heat in case we need it.”

Over the course of the next 20 minutes or so, Altair fussed around the room fetching buckets of water and stacking them up 5 deep in case they needed them and he couldn’t get away, cycling them over the fire so no specific one got too hot or cold. Vega allowed herself to relax, breathing deeply and groaning through the contractions as they happened, focusing inward to try and combat the pain she felt radiating through her time after time.

Suddenly there was a sigh from Altair as she sat and stared into the simmering water in the cooking pot.

Vega opened her eyes and looked over to him. “What is wrong, love?” though she had her own ordeal to undertake, the sigh caught her off guard enough to want to see what was up.

“I just keep on thinking about our previous baby…” referencing an earlier miscarriage the couple had suffered in Vega’s early pregnancy. He was cut off as Vega groaned, the next contraction catching her off guard herself as she was too focused on Altair to prepare herself. He jumped into action and grabbed her hands over the edge of the tub and gave her somewhere to grab. She sequeezed as hard as she could, yelling out as it hit it’s peak, the pain leaving her gasping for breath as she panted through it.

“That was tough…” she whined as she recovered from the worst of the contraction.

“Sorry my darling, I made you lose concentration.”

“No… you had a legitimate worry. I think about the earlier baby too. At first I liked to think he or she was looking over us, a guardian angel of sorts. But now, as I feel these babies move around inside of me, I like to think he or she has been reborn with their brother or sister, and we still get to meet that elusive child… though I may have to have words with it very soon after it pops out, as it has been giving me some serious heartburn and kicking me in some very inopportune times.”

The light hearted comment helped soothe Altair’s worries, and he was left smiling. He stood up and kissed Vega as she leaned her head back against the side of the tub for support, allowing Altair’s kiss to press deep into her, their tongues intertwining, the passion for each other not lost over the years.

Suddenly Vega’s hand grabbed the back of Altair’s head and pulled at his ponytail. She yelled out as a new sensation hit her. “Baby… my body, it needs to push! The first babe, it’s coming!”

“Go with it!” Altair commanded. “You have seen this happen before, know what must be done. I love you, lets bring forth our babies!”

Vega grabbed the underside of her knees and pulled them back as she roared, eyes clamped tight shut as she put effort into the push. It released and she went again, strain showing on her face as she put in the effort. Altair moved into position behind her in the tub as he pulled out a washcloth and dunked it into the tub next to his wife and rung it out, dabbing it over her forehead as she strained.

The contraction let up enough to allow Vega to regain her focus. “This is both so much different to how I imagined it, and at the same time, exactly how I expected it to feel…” she panted with effort before the next contraction begun. Altair shrugged, not fully understanding what Vega was saying, but he knew his job was to just offer encouragement no matter what Vega was feeling right now.

“You can do it my darling. That was such a good effort.”

“Pfft…” Vega made a derogatory noise. “The effort hasn't even started yet… save that for later, when the babe crowns. But here we go….” She once again pulled her legs back and pushed. A good 30 seconds passed, with 3 good pushes involved, gasping breaths between.

Altair gave what little platitude he could to the proceedings with calls out of “good, go again, baby” and “that's it keep it up” at opportune times. He placed his hands into the water and found the tub to be getting cold – noticing Vega shivering a little between contractions.

“I will be back in a second baby” as he stepped to grab an empty bucket and pull out a load of chilled water from the tub. Vega’s eyes followed him around the room as he walked forward, grabbed the bucket, sunk it into the tub and threw its contents unceremoniously out of the door into the world outside. He grabbed a full bucket and slowly emptied it into an area where the hot water wouldn't scold his wife, who yelped and let out a “quick, quick!” command as she once more pulled back her legs and got back to pushing.

Vega felt a little out of sorts without her Altair close to her as she continued to push, but there was no other option as far as her body was concerned – her ability to stop pushing was as unlikely as trying to hold back the waves at the ocean. Her movements caused the newly added hot water to swirl around the tub though and that helped give her something else to focus on other than the gripping pain around her midsection and the feeling of unrelenting fullness between her legs.

Altair looked up from his task of dropping the water into the tub and noticed something between Vega’s legs as she pulled them back.

“I see something!” he sounded excited. The commotion caused Vega to gasp and release her legs as she kept her eyes closed still pushing, one of her hands probing to the folds between her legs. There… probing at it with her fingers, was her bag of waters starting to poke out.

Vega was gasping as she managed a few words between contractions. “The waters… they haven’t broken yet. It’s bulging out of me.”

“Do I break it?” Altair enquired.

“No!” Vega was quick to admonish him. “Let it happen naturally.”

As she let off the pressure of the push as the contraction force ebbed away, the bag slipped back inside, and once more all she could feel was her skin to her fingers, the sensitive lips and nub between her legs which Altair had, on so many occasions, played with and sent sensations through her spine right to her brain. She wondered…

As the next contraction started, she only pulled back a single leg. The second hand rested on her clit and she rubbed slowly. Altair’s eyes opened wide at the view in front of him.

“You… you’re?” he was flabbergasted. “You’re playing?”

“Shhhh…” came Vega’s response. “I want to try this, see if it takes the edge off.”

Vega didn’t speak further, two of her fingers rubbed back and forth as her face scrunched up and she pushed. The effort was there, the bulge appeared back between her lips, the bag bulging out until finally she yelled. Simultaneously, the bag popped underwater, the thin membrane floating away into the body of the tub. Vega flinched as it happened, but she had no time to rest, the contraction was still upon her. She rubbed and rubbed at the sensitive area between her legs, her head lolling back as she groaned mid-contraction. She gasped “It’s working” as she finally felt the contraction release, a gasp escaping her lips.

Altair was transfixed at the display in front of him. Eyes hyper focused on the fingers doing the work. “Your… erm… your bag broke” he managed.

“I felt it… it brushed against my hand as it floated away” Vega managed, still panting with her exertion. She stopped her rubbing activities as the contraction ebbed away. “Surely the head must be close… let me see if I can feel it.”

She inserted her finger within her folds and smiled. “It’s there I can feel the head of our first baby. I can feel the progress my body is making!” she sounded elated, but it was short lived. The next contraction ramped up quickly, and she resumed her rubbing activity. Her moan started almost instantaneously this time though, and soon escalated to a yelling shout. She couldn't enunciate her words given the situation, but as the contraction started to fade she managed a weak “no bag of waters… it hurts so much more… direct skin on skin contact, rubbing… stretch…”

Altair saw the frustration in her face and scrambled around to be beside her where he laid his hands on her arm. “What can I do…” he was frustrated himself, he was so used to being actively involved, and felt useless at this point.

“Get me a drink love, my throat is dry…” groaned Vega, her voice suddenly sounding very horse and scratchy. Altair pushed himself up off the ground and headed off to get a cool skin of water. As he was away in the kitchen he heard Vega’s yowling pain echo through the family home.

He rushed back in to a scene of Vega having let the second leg go, so they were both thrashing in the water, her fingers rubbing against her clit as much as possible, her second hand thumping on the side of the bath in whatever effort she can do to stave off the pain she was feeling. Altair grabbed the hand and held it tight, feeling Vega respond, squeezing as tightly as she possibly could. He looked down between her legs and his face lit up – he could see something emerging from between them.

He leaned over and took his second hand, grabbing the one that was rubbing her clit, and moved the fingers a few inches south, to feel the skin between her lips. Vega’s eyes shot open, and Altair nodded. “It’s working!” he bellowed. The break in concentration caused Vega to stop pushing and the head shrunk back behind the lips once again, causing Vega to wail “No… Don’t go!”

Releasing the hands he held, Altair instead placed his hands on her face, and kissed her. “You, my darling, are pushing out a baby. You know it will slip, and come, and slip again. You know this in your heart. Don’t get discouraged and work with your body. You know what to do.”

Vega nodded and asked for a drink, which Altair offered her, slowly lifting the skin to her lips as she drank deeply. It was soon time to push again though, so she pulled up her legs with both hands and went back to it. Altair stashed away the skin for future access and situated himself behind Vega, his hands rubbing her shoulders as she tensed up with the push. He lifted himself up on his haunches to see if he could see anything between Vega’s legs as she pushed, but her belly was in the way, and Altair couldn’t get a good enough angle to see anything. He cursed under his breath that he didn't think to have a mirror or something set up in the bath – something he would look to bring a metalworker into the home in time once the babies were born for the next time.

Over the course of the next 15 to 20 minutes, the couple didn't move from their location. Time after time Vega went from wailing in pain, to gasping for breath, back to wailing in pain and so on as she worked seemingly without end to push the head of her first babe out from within her. Altair was frustrated not being able to do anything, just hold onto her and give her platitudes as between pushes, Vega reached down between her legs and felt the progress of her work, at first the head disappeared each time as she let off the push, but slowly and surely the head remained peeking out at the end of each push, each time the stretch feeling greater and greater for her until finally she yelled out a shrieking, horrible scream.

“It burns, it burns, crowning baby, crowning… ooooh” Her wail didn’t end until finally about 30 seconds later she grabbed the sides of the tub, releasing her legs, and almost lifted herself up out of the water, her legs scrabbling backwards trying to find purchase on the slippery base. She jumped and yowled as she finally managed a weak “the head is out… get around and check for a cord.”

Altair didn’t wait, jumping up and dashing around the edge of the tub to see the head of his child poking out between his wife’s legs. The water was tinged with blood, he couldn't tell at this point if it was just coming from within Vega’s womb or if she had torn in the process, but he put that to the back of his mind as he reached in and felt around the neck for a cord. He was happy that there was no risk to the baby, so breathed a sigh to refocus his thoughts and took in the scene.

“How is it…” Vega sounded weak and exhausted.

“It’s beautiful… our baby.” Altair managed. He then realised the thing that was playing on his mind. The head was face up. Normally babies were born face down so their spines could bend with the movements through the birth canal, but if they were in posterior position, or back to the mothers back so they came out face up, that meant it was a much tougher process. Now Vega’s wails were explained.

Suddenly Vega gasped “Hold the head” as she pulled back her legs again and pushed hard, the contraction forcing her to comply, accompanied by a howling yell all through the push. Altair held the head as he first saw the first shoulder, then the second slip out from between Vegas legs, he gently pulled as the torso followed, and the legs. Vega gasped as she felt the weight pass through and out from her, finally releasing a triumphant yell of success as Altair fished the first child out of the bath water, holding it up as high as he could, still attached by the umbilical cord.

“We have a baby girl my love… our daughter. You did it. I’m so proud.” Altair was babbling with joy as he handed the baby over to Vega to hold against her chest, who in turn was crying tears of joy at the completion of the first of her two labours. The babe was making loud and screeching yells until she finally found Vega’s breast and almost without hesitation, latched on for her first feed.

Life was calm and quiet, at least for a few minutes. Altair didn’t make much noise, just simply stand and observe the currently 2 most important people in his life. Vega made cooing noises at the baby, who was more than content to suckle, having undergone her own tortorous journey a short while earlier.

Vega’s wincing face signified the calm had passed and the contractions starting up once more. “Is there anything you need my love?” Altair enquired, very conscious that the baby added an extra dynamic to how she had pushed before.

“No… I don’t feel the need to push with this… let me just…” she groaned, unable to finish her sentence. Altair knelt next to her in the tub, one hand stroking the head of his daughter as the other hand rested atop Vegas on the side of the tub. He looked over to her and noticed the water with its pinkish hue, and the vibrations of Vega’s body signifying her shivering. He dipped his hand into the tub and realised that over the time the water had become chilled.

“I can’t keep you in here, the water is filthy, there’s blood and viscera in here, as well as other waste… I think you should get out.”

Vega nodded. “I think I'll need a hand… my legs are a bit wobbly no doubt.”

Altair knelt to the side of the tub as Vega wrapped her free arm that wasn’t holding the baby around his shoulders. Altair supported Vegas weight under her arms as they stood up together, the blood pink water running down her body as she stood. She took a tentative step out of the tub, and with Altair’s help, finally managed to get both feet onto the ground and stand in front of the fire, using the heat to dry herself off.

The baby didn’t let this movement and jostling distract her, as she continued to feed. The sensation of feeding causing Vega’s contractions to ramp up, and her second breast to leak, something which went unnoticed as the water sloshed up and down over her belly when she was in the tub, but the milky white droplets dripping onto her belly and rolling down the rounded surface was mesmerising to both Vega and Altair now she was out of the water. The grunt of a contraction pulled them both into the moment though as Vega managed to say “I’m pushing…” as she stood bow legged in front of the fire, one hand gipping tight to her newborn and the other reaching out for Altair to grab.

Vega focused on a long, hard push, gravity aiding her in her standing position. Grunting through the length of the contraction she suddenly gasped. “What was that?”

Altair looked down and realised the baby was breech. “That… that was a leg.”

Vega gasped, a look of panic on her face. She had of course seen this before, and she knew that giving birth to twins most likely meant one was upright and one was upside down in the womb, just for the babies to take up the optimal space… but when faced with it happening to you, when you’re already overwrought from the earlier parts of the day… she wasn’t fully aware of it all.

Altair jumped in. “Focus, baby… focus. Nothing new. Just need to push out the body then the head rather than the other way around. Nothing you haven’t done before.” Vega could only nod, the next contraction upon her, her thighs dipping to open up into a squat, her groaning push resulting in the flop of the second leg out from between her own.

Altair realised that Vega was shivering, either a side effect of adrenaline, or simply just because she was cold from the water not having fully dried off her body, so he took the opportunity in between contractions to have her rest against a chair as he dashed to grab something from the bedroom.

Vega watched wide eyed as Altair left, the contraction forcing her to keep on pushing, the next baby’s hips now dangling between her legs. It was moving, slowly but surely, her already raw lips spread around the girth of the body. She whimpered as she pushed, not feeling the need to yell or tire her throat just yet, but very wary of the pain building as she pushed more and more towards the width of the head.

Altair dashed back into the room at full sprint, carrying a fur with him to drape over Vega’s shoulders. She kissed and thanked him as he took back over holding her weight, Altair’s arms wrapping around her torso, in the space between her breasts and her belly. She rested the baby on her thigh as she lowered down into a deep squat, her weight supported by Altair, the widening of her pelvis as she lowered down almost heavenly compared to the tight space she could manage by keeping her balance by herself. With an almighty push, the body was born to the shoulders, the deep squat meaning the legs and body rested against the floor.

“Stay low my baby, push hard… keep that deep squat so our child doesn’t have far to fall when it’s born.” Altair instructed. Vega couldn’t respond verbally, but nodded, her focus remaining entirely on pushing, now the contractions were on top of each other.

Altair started to fret, this breech baby enough of a concern to set his nerves alight and as he held his wife closely whilst she struggled through her ordeal, his eyes darted around the room to see if there was something, anything, he could use to aid in this situation. He suddenly saw the large dressing mirror over the far side of the room. Gently rotating Vega’s body so her legs would follow suit, he moved her the quarter circle he would need to get a view over her shoulder of the reflection in the mirror. At this point Vega had not opened her eyes for over a minute and was pushing with all her might.

Altair saw the red, stretched lips of her vagina stretching out over the slowly emerging head, the baby dangling between her own legs like some sort of parody of a puppet that had it strings cut – just hanging there completely unable to move. But then he realised that it was moving. The legs kicked and the arms wiggled left to right. The baby was fighting to get out as much as it’s mother was forcing it out… but the lack of any where for it to get its limbs to touch were entirely to its detriment.

“Vega, darling, look forward.” Altair said. The calmness of his words cut through Vega’s concentration and she looked forward. That’s when she saw it too. Her second baby. The first still on her thigh, the second dangling there. The head reaching a wide point, and whilst she could only see the back of it, she felt the nose right there tugging against her inner walls. She knew she could do it, she could see the head coming out, and she pushed.

She yelled out, eyes no longer closed watching the show in the mirror. Her squat deepened, her hips widened, and as her voice cracked, her battle-worn throat no longer able to make any more noise the head slipped out.

The noise could be described as a splat. The baby slipping out from between her legs, a splash of amniotic fluid following it down and puddling around the shape on the floor. The room was eerily silent after all the commotion in the moments preceding it. Not the first baby or the second made a noise. Altair gently lowered Vega down to sit as he dashed around in front of her to see to the second baby.

Gathering towels he rubbed the baby vigorously, trying to stimulate it. “Breathe, breathe!” he gasped, panic now starting to set in at the baby’s silence. As if the two children were intrinsically linked the little girl’s eyes stared wide at her sibling, no noise came from her. Then suddenly it came. A watery weak cough, then a second go, much stronger than the first, and the second baby’s wails echoed around the house.

The first baby joined the chorus, and along with Altair’s and Vega’s tear-streaked faces, relief swept over the room. Altair looked down at the bundle held in his arms, still connected to it’s mother by the umbilical cord, and saw between its legs.

“We have a son!” he exclaimed. Bringing him close to Vega, handing him over and then finding something to tie and cut the cord. Finally, the baby was released from it’s connection in the womb, and the four sat in a huddle in the room, simply existing in the moment and not considering anything else.

Finally it was time for Vega to bring forth the placenta, and after a short while, Altair rubbing Vega’s deflated belly as she pushed with the contractions, two separate meaty lumps were caught in a bowl for examination. She laid the babies down and along with Altair, they checked both over and were happy everything suggested everything had happened exactly as it should.

“The two placentas would suggest that they are not identical.” Altair commented.

“I can see that dear… one has a penis, another has a vagina.” Vega chuckled at the obviousness of the situation that Altair had not realised as she kissed and hugged her husband. She certainly needed sleep, and she just hoped her two new additions would give her that small mercy after the night she had bringing them forth to the world.

[mrrightandmrbubble]

Yeah, I know, I saw it.

I'm still organising my thoughts and have observations to make about the responses to it/the cognitive distortions informing those responses. But no one needs another log on the fire right now. So i'll just say this for the time being:

We are not involved in this. The people who ARE and who should be considered at this time are his wife and children. THEY are the ones whose lives have been changed today, who have been publicly humiliated, and who have the right to seek answers.

[misscammiedawn]

You may have discussed it before, but would you mind speaking a little bit on how you discovered you have DID?

I feel like I have a pretty stable core identity but there have been times under intense stress where I’ve experienced sudden “switches” in my personality. During a particularly bad period for a little over a year there was a time where I distinctly felt like a different person and did things I wouldn’t normally do, and I remember the specific moment where I came back into my body and became “me” again. This doesn’t happen often, but it has happened more than once throughout my life. When I see people talk about plurality I feel a little confused because their identities often seem to have their own names and genders and ages and backstories, and it seems so cut-and-dry.

I know these are all things to discuss with my therapist but I love how you talk about your own experiences. How can you differentiate between DID and other kinds of dissociation?

Thank you for asking, anon! I'm glad you are going to talk to your therapist about it while also doing the reading and reaching out-- heaven knows our own journey within the US mental healthcare system was rocky at best. The latest chapter of Madison/Belladonna is heavily sourced from IRL circumstances both in receiving the diagnosis and the decades long journey in the mental healthcare system to get there.

But to answer more directly-- (as always we are answering from a psychopathology lens for care and treatment, we recognize the beauty of plurality and do not reduce ALL experiences to mental healthcare concerns, we are approaching our own situation and experiences this way as it is how we lived it)

Our journey was guided from the outside. Both therapists and our partner who was able to see these "mood swings" in us were able to gently guide us to water despite our fierce denial and rejection of our situation. What started as "we're fine" turned to "mood swings" turned to "BPD" turned to "---maybe we should read up on OSDD?" Turned to our current therapist telling us over a year ago that we had DID after months of testing and interviewing to determine.

I should also note I likely realized it MULTIPLE times in my history and buried it again and again. I legitimately think that people in my former life knew and either assumed I knew too or worse I had told them and forgot that I told them. It worries me because I cannot ever be certain. I once asked my ex-wife about it after the divorce/diagnosis and she did say it was weird how she had a "different husband" depending on environment and social group. She said she never noticed it during the interactions, but she would always think back and feel that the "me" in any given moment was different from the ones she observed in social/work situations etc.

So like--- even if people notice, sometimes they don't even realize what they're seeing. Honestly I go full No Mask at work even when a male part fronts and no one really bats an eye. I don't think *most* people are as observant as we worry they are.

ANYWAY! Looking back these are the signs that I ignored:

- I not just wrote a consistent journal through every phase of my life (even going as far as to have a "memory list" that I populated "when I felt like it" (<- IE: when a part that associated with the memory was fronting and wanted to type about it) and more importantly I READ it. Often. I sometimes think that the majority of our memories are just imagined versions of what we wrote. That notion is helped by the fact we [used to] stop journaling during times of crisis or delete journal/chat log to prevent us thinking about distressing things.

- I wrote a lot of plural characters in my stories since my teenage years. Kinda like I kept writing female versions of myself? Funny how the Trans and DID acceptance arcs are so dang similar.

- I would emotionally cave in on myself after gatherings, berating myself for how I had acted all evening. Getting deeply upset at how "out of control" I was. We outright AVOID mood altering substances like alcohol or weed.

- When talking about traumatic memories we typically just tell the story rote. It doesn't bother us. We told therapists without batting an eyelid. This is dissociation. We were disconnecting ourselves from our memories. Emotionally distancing ourselves from the experiences.

- In the same vein, when we remember things we imagine things in locations like a 3rd person camera. Not populated. We don't hear or feel or associate. It's just a place and a knowledge. Our whole "context packet" thing where we just understand something without *feeling* it.

- Deleted emails and chatlogs, references to things we don't remember. Discord messages with people we don't remember talking to. It bothers me how many people in our online communities we were actually close to at some stage of our life and then erased. This is specific to us but Dawn has opened many accounts in the hypnokink community and Camden has shut them down and this has happened so many times that we don't even get upset when we find a buried email from 2013 with sign-up to a Yahoo Email account we don't remember having. That sounds dramatic. It's more just. Go into your emails, pull stuff up from 5-10 years ago and just scroll a while. See how much you remember and associate into. It's NORMAL to forget what websites you were browsing a decade ago. It's not normal to have an entire *LIFE* you hid from yourself.

- Sometimes people just... saw/knew us before we did and there were times when they would describe a version of us they weren't supposed to see and we got complete dysphoria over it. Sometimes it as joyful. Someone we love saw Cammie well enough to say when we transitioned that they wanted to see that "windswept girl with the big smile" all of the time. Sometimes it's mortifying, like when someone approaches Camden as if she is Dawn and Camden REJECTED that side of us so heavily that it caused emotional meltdowns and turmoil because Camden didn't WANT to be a sexy confident domme, she could barely see herself as a woman, when people saw the wrong version of us *without permission* it was just a violation that made things WORSE.

- On that note-- meltdowns-- we mentioned the whole "after a social gathering we'd emotionally cave in on ourselves" thing, there was a lot of that. After work we'd get a complete drop from having to be in Manager Mode all day or we'd have a crisis after erotic intimacy encounters because we're sex repulsed ace. The fact is our nervous system was activated during those times, our survival instincts were kicked in and brought the part associated to the surface to DEAL and when they backed off our body was still reacting to the trauma trigger and it would cause us to implode.

All of these things in therapy brought us to the conclusion of BPD. Because therapists be like that at times. A *TRAUMA* therapist gave us some DES-II, MID and ACE tests and worked out what was going on within 3 months.

It took a further 6-9 months with constant support from loved ones who were able to see us as individuals to *ACCEPT* it. This is a denial disorder, it doesn't want to be found. Asking questions, being honest and being accepting is the best way to come to terms with it. I wish it were easier and I wish you luck and support in your journey. Our inbox is always open!

You're not alone <3

[stromuprisahat]

TW RAPE MENTION AND NAZI IMAGERY

What I would have done with Fjerda instead of Helnik(scornful): we start on a smiling blond-haired blue-eyed family man, let's call him Alfred, who kissed his wife and children good morning and was the picture of classic paterfamilias at the breakfast table. He leaves to his 'lumber mill' management job. He gathers his workers, has morning prayers, and enters his office where he reviews paperwork on today's fresh 'logs'. He goes to the collection room, picks out a young blond Grisha for himself before telling his men what to do with the rest.

After the deed is done he continues working, observing a room of emaciated Fabrikators working on a tank. We see one guard nudge a skeletal young woman slumped over her table, declare her dead and carts her away to the incinerator. He comes home, kisses his wife and hugs his children and goes to sleep soundly.

The horrific is routine.

That's too obviously Nazi. Better to keep it in hints and put a lovely romance that will miraculously fix him.

Or outright describe drugging breeding factory, and pretend killing some of their staff and showing the victims to inhabitants of nearby town will earn a wave or righteous indignation for their sake and turn the population into Jew Grisha worshippers of Living Saints.

A girl who couldn’t be more than sixteen was being walked up and down the length of the corridor by a Springmaiden. Her feet were bare and she wore a light gray gown that stretched over her jutting belly. “I can’t,” she moaned. She looked unspeakably frail, the thrust of her stomach at odds with the sharp knobs and angles of her bones. “You can,” said the Springmaiden, her voice firm as she led the girl by her elbow. “She needs to eat,” said another of the women from the convent. “Skipped her breakfast.” The Springmaiden tsked. “You know you aren’t to do that.” “I’m not hungry,” panted the girl between heavy breaths. “We can either walk to help the baby come or I can sit you down for some semla. The sugar will give you energy during the birth.” The girl began to cry. “I don’t need sugar. You know what I need.” A tremor passed through Nina as understanding came. She recognized that desperation, that deep hunger that sank its teeth into you until all you were was wanting. She knew the need that turned everything you’d ever cared for—friends, food, love—to ash, until all you could remember of yourself was the desire for the drug. The wasted body, the dark hollows beneath her eyes—this girl was addicted to parem. And that meant she must be Grisha. Nina peered down the row of beds at the women and girls. The youngest looked to be about fifteen, the oldest might have been in her thirties, but the ravages of the drug made it hard to tell. Some cradled small bumps beneath their thin blankets, others hunched over high, protruding stomachs. A few might not have been pregnant—or might not have been showing yet.

King of Scars- Chapter 18

Just don't kill the guy behind all this no matter how many chances you'll get, because he's your new LI's daddy, and he DOES love his child (as long as he doesn't know they're Grisha too).

Save some mercy for my people my ass. Dying wish or not, it shouldn't extend to the likes of Jarl Brum.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️

Love your writing!!

THANK YOU!!!!

Realizing I forgot to include my Jamaica photos yesterday so here is this:

---

30 for ⚖️:

---

He wants to check his arm under his turnout jacket, but there’s no time. He has a job to do. And he can’t let whatever this is not only ruin his career, but potentially put someone at risk. So Buck pushes forward. He manages to safely open the passenger door, attending to the husband while Eddie and Hen focus on his more injured wife.

“Help me out of this damn car, please!” The man cries. As if Buck was there to sell him multivitamins. 

“Don’t worry,” Buck replies. “We’re getting you out.”

The problem happens when Buck reaches forward to grab his hand. In the split second before they make contact, the pressure over Buck’s scale tattoo becomes so intense that he thinks his arm might snap. He winces, but toughs it out. But when the man’s shaking, clammy fingers touch the rough material of Buck’s uniform gloves, he feels a jolt of electricity run through his body. And then he loses all sense of self. 

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He simply ceases to be. It’s not like a coma dream. He was there for that. Buck is instead ripped away from reality and sort of somewhere else, where his consciousness is simply an observer.

It’s like processing a hundred inputs all at once. Dozens and dozens of moments in time, like pieces in a mosaic. And the larger picture is crimson. 

The man yells at his wife, berating her until she panics, swerves, and hits a telephone poll. He calls her a stupid bitch. She ruined his prized possession. He doesn’t care that she’s bleeding. 

A boy is catching frogs in a pond near his house. He throws one onto a log fire just to see what will happen. He hardly feels a thing.

---

30 for 🌲:

--

“I’m still… I-I don’t…” Eddie struggles.

“Eddie, it’s okay. Just say it.” 

“I kind of want to wallow here forever but I need your help but the thought of you leaving for even a shopping trip scares me!”

Buck nods. Keeps his expression as steady as he can, though Eddie thinks he must see a small flash of pity across his eyes. Eddie feels entirely pathetic. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Buck says. “I get it.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “None of this is okay. This… What am I going to do? I can’t go to work. You can’t be here all the time.”

“Uh… I mostly can be.”

“Buck, you have a job and it isn’t being my babysitter.”

“I’m on leave. As of yesterday.”

Eddie pauses. “Oh.”

That does make sense. He’s just got his hard diagnosis. He doesn’t have hearing aids yet. Gerrard is a maniac that will absolutely use any perceived weakness against Buck. Of course he took a leave. Just, that isn’t something Buck, of all people, would do lightly.

---

30 for 🧟‍♀️

---

“They’re here?” Hen asks, sitting up groggily in bed. 

“Sounds like it,” Karen replies. 

“Go blow them up, babe.” 

Oh, she’s ready to.

Karen swings out of bed and finds her slippers.

“Coming, Maddie!” She calls. “Be right there!” 

For this to work, they’re going to have to be quick. For this to work, they can’t waste a second 

▪️▪️▪️

It happens like this. 

Another big, bulky fuel-guzzling car - an Escalade this time, not a Hummer - drives around the library. Right up and over the curb. The drive around the building, scouting it, stopping before they hit the garden. Karen is grateful they didn’t plow right over it. Knowing them - and she doesn’t, she supposes, at all - that sort of destruction could be par for the course. 

When the Escalade stops, three men climb out. None of them are recognizable. All strangers. Maybe Karen should feel something about that. What she’s about to do to strangers. Maybe before the end of the world as she knew it, she would have. She’s a gentle person, really. Always thought of herself as soft. But someone came for her son. For the other children here. And that’s just not okay. 

[brittie-frog]

Watching Day 7 from soulfire pov (Tubbo, Niki, then Tina's)

- "I'm on national TV!!" But not gonna be there for the actual event

- getting an army of 7 little observer guys and naming 4 of them (Rupert, Bertie, Scoob and Caramel)

- completing a scavenger hunt and then running around trying to find another zombie villager

- switch to Niki constantly dying and then for some reason spawning in global and dying to shit tonnes of mobs but being helped by Luffy back to base

- game crashing and not seeing the cinematic then being thrown into the event with an underequipped Pierre and done Bad

- Pierre logging off and constantly dying to Etoiles and Roier until their egg is half dead

- Tina logging on, being told "it's not worth it", their egg just being removed from the game and being switched to red team

- Cellbit still trying to get to the egg and instead killing Bad before understanding

- switch to Tina POV of just taking the event as a fun time running out red's base and getting to talk to more friends again

- sneaking up on Etoiles just to say 'ca va?' And joke pvp fight during inventory shuffle then get killed

- get the final hit on Etoiles to be the one to kill him and then while having a nice chat with Bagi get attacked by Etoiles as "revenge" and Bagi try to defend her

- having another chat with Bagi and Cellbit run up say "sorry" and throw a bomb blowing up his sister to then be chased by Tina

- Foolish try to attack Bagi and Tina defend her and hit Foolish

- "my dead wife!!" - calm down they haven't been on their date yet

- then the museum, Jaiden and Tina meant to be escorting Bagi home but Jaiden has to leave so Bagi takes Tina home the long way to spend more time together while being third wheeled by Luffy (but they gave teaduo the pretty boat and they're just a baby so it's fine)

I hope that red see that Bad is a valuable ally because he put his anger against them (both teams have every right yo be angry at each other) aside for the most part to actually be helpful - he's just a competitive guard dog. With Tina running Soulfire's PR department and crowdfundraising for Bad's therapy hopefully everything will be okay, at least when they get back home and there won't be too much long lasting contempt for him/Blue team.

Edit: I forgot to add the most hilarious moment - Tina sat in the middle of a group of people but zoomed in on the 4halo convo and reading Bad's bubbles where he's basically calling Tina useless and here just sat there like "wtf??" While laughing at how he just kept going on

[zparkl]

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Twenty-Seven

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Festival of Friends

Summary: The Enterprise arrives on Celia for its Festival of Luminosity, and they get to meet (Y/N)'s family.

            Captain’s Log: We are in orbit around Celia to act as the Starfleet representation to their Festival of Luminosity. It is a celebration of their history, and as our very own Negotiations and Communications officer is a Celian, we were the perfect choice. As such, we have a landing party gathered, and we will be joining the entirety of the festivities.

            (Y/N) was buzzing with excitement as they stood in the Transporter Room beside Spock. Finally (for (Y/N) really had no patience when it came to seeing their home planet after so long), Bones and Kirk walked in.

            “So, Lieutenant, how are you feeling to be going back to Celian?” asked Kirk, smiling widely.

            “Although I love my work on the Enterprise, sir, I am looking forward to the festival. It was always so much fun growing up, and I haven’t been back for many years,” said (Y/N), smiling brightly.

            “I’m always up for getting out of this ship,” said Bones, as not-grumpy as he could be. “And a party? That means a few good drinks, and that’s a good enough reason to go down to Celia for me.”

            “Doctor, it amazes me that you are given the chance to an observe a unique culture, and yet you manage to focus on the most banal aspects of it,” said Spock, the usual repartee beginning between the pair.

            “Yeah, because it’s the culture and not (Y/N) you’re interested in,” replied Bones, just as witty in his retort.

            “Speaking of (Y/N),” said Uhura, turning to her friend. “Aren’t you going to be involved in the festivities even more than us?”

            “I am a Celian,” said (Y/N), smiling. “It’s customary, and I know all the traditions.”

            Uhura smirked and crossed her arms. “So we get to see that dance I saw you practicing in the recreation room?”

            (Y/N)'s cheeks warmed in embarassment. “You will. But I’m a bit rusty.”

            “I’m certain you’ll be wonderful,” said Spock.

            “Thanks, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Yes, and we will have a great time watching you celebrate your festival!” said Kirk. “So how about we head down?”

            “Right, let’s get the transporting over with,” said Bones, stepping onto the Transport Pad.

            “You all heard the doctor,” chuckled Kirk, stepping up.

            Spock, (Y/N), and Uhura stepped up.

            “Scotty, energize,” said Kirk.

            “Yes, sir,” said Scotty.

            The Transporter powered up, and the group dematerialized.

l

            The landing party—Spock, (Y/N), Kirk, Uhura, and Bones—materialized in Celia’s council building. The building had a tall ceiling where a mural of the sky and clouds stared down at them. Outside, the sun shone and a large garden sloped away to the nearest city. The group took a few steps to the wide open doors and looked outside. The city of Lelas stretched out in front of them, beautiful architecture highlighted by the sun and green pathways growing free.

            Bones whistled. “Now this is what I call a nice city.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “This is home.”

            Yes, thought Spock. This place, peaceful and beautiful, would create someone like (Y/N).

            “(Y/N)!” shouted an excited voice.

            “Uh-oh,” said (Y/N).

            A blur of long blond braids and a pale blue suit rushed by everyone to nearly tackle (Y/N) in a hug. “Ah! I’ve missed you!”

            (Y/N) stumbled and laughed as they tried to keep themself upright. “Hi, Merope.” It was their cousin, here to greet them with her wife.

            “Darling, they’re working,” said a calmer voice.

            Kirk smiled and turned to the second Celian who had arrived, this time the ambassador Alekto. “Ambassador, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said, extending a hand.

            “It is, Captain,” said Alekto, smiling and shaking it. They wore a purple dress with flowers crawling up the end. “And this time on a far more enjoyable occasion.”

            Spock nodded. “Indeed.”

            The last time they had encountered one another had been when the Enterprise had taken ambassadors from various planets to a neutral planet to discuss the admittance of Coridan to the Federation. It hadn’t gone smoothly—what with attempted assassination and his father’s need for surgery—but it had ended in success.

            “We’re so happy to have you all!” said Merope, smiling brightly and letting (Y/N) go.

            “Clearly,” said Bones, chuckling as (Y/N) groaned at their cousin’s antics.

            “Darling, again, they’re working,” said Alekto, gently taking her wife’s arm.

            “Fine, fine,” said Merope. She just grinned at (Y/N). “I’m sure we’ll have a ton of time for fun once the festivities begin.”

            “Don’t worry, Merope, we’ll have time to catch up,” assured (Y/N).

            “I’m going to hold you to that,” said Merope.

            “Alright, alright,” said Alekto, patting her wife’s arm. She smiled. “And now for a more official welcome.” She extended an arm around her. “Welcome to Celia. We are happy to host one of our own, Lieutenant (L/N), but we are honored to also have foreigners come to experience our Festival of Luminosity. So, thank you, Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, Dr. McCoy, and Lieutenant Uhura. And welcome once more.”

            “Thank you,” said Uhura. She smiled. “I’ve heard so many stories from (Y/N). I’m sure we’re going to have a wonderful time.”

            “Yeah, I’m up for a party after all the work I’ve been doing,” said Bones jovially.

            “We still have to meet the council,” reminded Spock.

            Kirk smiled. “And I’m sure we’ll enjoy that, too.”

            “Well, then, follow me,” said Alekto, turning with her wife and walking in the direction of the council chambers.

            “If I can ask, what exactly is this festival about?” asked Bones as they went. “I like a good party as much as the next person, but I usually like to know what I’m celebrating.”

            “The Festival of Luminosity is to celebrate the day that Celia gained control over empathy and became a peaceful planet,” said Spock.

            Merope smiled. “You’re quite knowledgeable.” She smirked at (Y/N) knowingly. Any empath seeing their emotions around Spock knew how they felt.

            (Y/N) just smiled and nodded alongside Spock. “Yes, the festival celebrates our history. We have a lot of singing and dancing during the various festivities, so that’s why I’ve been practicing.”

            “And there’s the Crown of Radiance, correct?” remarked Spock. He had researched and paid attention whenever (Y/N) spoke to him of their culture. He would make sure to understand and respect their traditions.

            (Y/N) smiled. “Right.”

            “The Crown of Radiance?” asked Uhura.

            “Now that sounds impressive,” said Kirk.

            “It is,” agreed Merope emphatically. “But it’s only given out once ever fifty years.”

            “What is it?” asked Bones.

            “It’s an honorary title given out to a single Celian per generation during the Festival of Luminosity,” explained Alekto. “It symbolizes Andromeda, the first Celian to develop empathy and lead our planet to peace.”

            “Wow, it must be a pretty special Celian to get such a title,” said Kirk.

            Alekto nodded. “A Celian given the Crown of Radiance is usually an incredibly powerful empath that has done some great deed with their empathy,” she explained. “They have to be someone who really has the spirit of Andromeda and the peace she fought for.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “It will be our first time seeing someone crowned. It’s very exciting for Celians of my generation.”

            “It’ll be an honor to see it,” said Spock. He glanced at (Y/N). He wondered who could possibly be more deserving of the Crown of Radiance than them. Admittedly, he was biased and only knew one Celian, but (Y/N) was just…incredible. And even logic came to that conclusion.

            “It’s going to be quite something,” agreed Kirk.

            Alekto paused at a set of doors and looked back at them. “We’re at the Council chambers. Everyone ready?”

            Everyone nervously squared their shoulders, and even (Y/N) shifted. It had been years since they were on Celia, let alone saw the Council in any capacity. Spock brushed his fingers against theirs in support, and (Y/N) smiled.

            Alekto and Merope exchanged surprised glances before smiling, and (Y/N) sent them a playful glare as their emotions turned teasingly warm.

            Then, the doors opened, and Merope stepped back to let Alekto guide the Starfleet representatives into the Council Chamber. The room was wide open with plenty of seats for people sitting in on meetings or waiting their turn to speak to the council. The Counselors themselves sat at a long marble table, each wearing official robes in different colors of the rainbow with gold stitching on white scarfs.

            “Ambassador Alekto,” greeted one counselor, standing.

            “Counselor,” said Alekto, nodding politely. “May I introduce the Starfleet representatives?”

            “Of course,” said another counselor. “We are happy to have them.”

            Bones gave a happy sigh. “Real hospitality instead of people trying to trap us or kill us.”

            (Y/N) just chuckled and patted his back.

            “This is Captain James T. Kirk,” said Alekto, gesturing to Kirk, who waved. “This is his First Office, Commander Spock.” The Vulcan inclined his head in acknowledgement. “His Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy.” Bones smiled and nodded. “The Communications Officer, Lieutenant Uhura.” She smiled and raised a hand in a wave. “And the Negotiations and Communications Officer, Lieutenant Commander (Y/N).” They smiled and nodded, aware of the recognition of their name.

            Alekto then gestured to the Counselors. “And now can I introduce our Council. We have Counselor Coronis of Internal Affairs.” The woman in red robes nodded and smiled. “Then we Counselor Hyperion of Foreign Affairs.” The man in orange waved. “Counselor of Legislation, Helle.” The person in yellow smiled. “Counselor Leander of Agriculture.” The man in green nodded. “Nereus, Counselor of Education.” The person in blue waved. “And finally, Counselor Rhea of Judiciary Affairs.” The woman in purple smiled.

            “We welcome all of you to Celia,” said Nereus.

            “It’s a pleasure to have people from multiple cultures present for our Festival,” said Hyperion, smiling.

            “And to have one of our returned after so long,” said Leander.

            “Thank you, Counselors,” said Kirk.

            “We are honored to have been invited,” said Spock, formal as ever.

            “We hope you all enjoy yourselves,” said Coronis.

            “If you are in need of anything, simply let one of our staff know,” said Rhea.

            “And Ambassador Alekto will act as your guide during your time here,” said Helle. “And she is known for being quite good at her job.”

            Alekto nodded and smiled. “If you guys have any problems, just let me know. And now that all the introductions have been made, I can take you to your quarters.”

            “Thanks,” said Bones as Alekto led them out and the Counselors nodded goodbye.

            “No problem,” said Alekto. “I know that the Counselors are pretty busy with preparations for the start of the festival, anyways, so we can get on to some less formal activities.”

            “What are some of the festivities that are going to start soon?” asked Uhura.

            “We have a city-wide lunch,” said Merope, appearing back beside her wife.

Alekto nodded. “All of our local restaurants prepare food and donate to the community, and then we let everyone simply go around and decide what they’d like.”

            “It gets pretty chaotic, but there’s always way too much good food for one person anyways,” said (Y/N), smiling fondly at the memories.

            “And then we have singing and dancing,” said Alekto.

            “I love that part the most,” said Merope.

            “It sounds lovely,” said Uhura.

            “You should join the singing,” said (Y/N). “You have a great voice.”

            Her friend smiled. “Maybe. But I don’t know your songs.”

            Merope shook her head. “We have a ton of free time during the celebrations. I mean, first we have organized performances from various levels of schooling, and then us adults dance together, and then it’s a free-for-all, so anyone can join in to sing or dance whatever they’d like!”

            “Then maybe I will,” said Uhura excitedly.

            “If the lunch is soon, I need to go and get ready,” said (Y/N).

            “Do you get a costume?” teased Bones.

            “I have a more Celian outfit to wear, yeah,” said (Y/N). They chuckled nervously. “I just hope it’ll look good for the celebration.”

            “I’m sure you’ll look nice,” said Spock.

            “Thanks, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Before you go, we have two more people for you to say ‘hi’ to,” said Merope.

            “Oh? More officials?” asked Kirk.

            “Don’t worry. It’s nothing formal,” said Alekto, shaking her head. She pointed ahead of her to where a woman and a man were standing and waiting for the group.

            “Oh, god, did you bring my parents to the Council Building?” said (Y/N) incredulously.

            “I told Merope you’re technically working right now and she should wait for at least lunch, but, uh, she insisted,” said Alekto, chuckling.

            “So that’s why her emotions were so bright. She was excited about her surprise,” said (Y/N).

            Merope smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

            “We get to meet the people who raised you?” said Bones. “Maybe that’ll help explain your taste.”

            “Doctor, (Y/N)’s parents are a pleasure to meet, and yet you insist on deciding to, as you say, ‘tease’ me,” said Spock.

            “(Y/N)!” said (Y/N)’s mother, finally seeing her child and smiling.

            “Welcome home,” said their father.

            “Hi, Mom, Dad,” said (Y/N), letting their parents hug them and hugging back. “It’s great to see you.” They smiled as the familiar warmth of their parents’ emotions encompassed them.

            “Oh, good, we were worried Merope was pushing for seeing you too soon,” said their mother, stepping back.

            “Merope always gets her way,” said Alekto fondly.

            Merope laughed and kissed her wife on the cheek. “It’s not my fault you spoil me.”

            (Y/N)’s mother waved to the group. “Hello, I’m Eirene, (Y/N)’s mom. And this is my husband, Nikomedes. We’re so happy to meet (Y/N)’s colleagues and friends.” She smiled widely.  

            “So, who are your friends?” asked Nikomedes brightly.

            Spock, Kirk, Uhura, and Bones were quickly realizing that (Y/N)’s warm personality definitely came from Nikomedes, but their general calm and patience came from Eirene. All the energy was clearly on Nikomedes and Merope’s side of the family.

            “This is my Captain, Kirk,” said (Y/N). “My friends McCoy and Uhura.” They shifted nervously, and their parents’ raised their eyebrows knowingly as (Y/N)’s emotions turned to love as they looked at Spock. “And this is my boyfriend, Spock.”

            Nikomedes grinned widely, and Eirene smiled softly. “Well, it’s great to meet you all,” said Nikomedes.

            “It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Bones.

            “Right,” agreed Kirk.

            “Yes,” said Uhura.

            Eirene looked at Spock. “Especially anyone so close to our child.”

            Spock nodded. “It is an honor to meet the family of my t’hy’la.”

            (Y/N)’s parents nodded approvingly at Spock. They trusted (Y/N)’s taste, and he seemed nice, and for (Y/N) to have such deep emotions for him, it meant their relationship was truly strong.

                        “He seems good, (Y/N),” said Eirene, smiling at her child, and Nikomedes gave a thumbs up.

            (Y/N) turned red. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Mom.” They gave their dad a look. “And stop that, Dad.”

            “Well, now that all the introductions are done, I guess it’s time for (Y/N) to go and get ready,” said Merope. “They’re the only Celian not ready for the Festival.”

            “Who held me up?” said (Y/N), smiling still.

            “Me! But I’m also who’s gonna make you all pretty, so be nice to me,” said Merope, grabbing (Y/N)’s arm and dragging them away.

            “I’ll take you guys to where we’ll be having the lunch,” said Alekto, gesturing for the group to follow her.

            Eirene turned to the Starfleet officers as they walked. “How has (Y/N) been doing in Starfleet?”

            “They are a good person and a great officer,” said Kirk. “We’re lucky to have them on the Enterprise.”

            Spock nodded. “Indeed. They are invaluable. Many people have benefited from their presence.”

            “They’ve saved our lives, even,” said Uhura, smiling. “And they’re always willing to help people in need.”

            “Yeah, the amount of trouble they’ve gotten us out of is only beaten by the amount of times we’ve gotten into trouble,” said Bones.

            “We’re glad,” said Nikomedes, smiling. “I can tell our child is cared for.”

            “We were worried,” said Eirene. “(Y/N) choosing Starfleet…it was quite unexpected.”

            “Really?” said Bones in surprise. “They’re a perfect negotiator.”

            “Oh, yes, but we—indeed, all of their professors, friends, and family—thought they’d go into work more geared towards their empathy in a more emotion-based environment,” said Eirene.

            Alekto nodded. “Like being an Ambassador like me or working with different planets in need of guidance.” She smiled. “A lot of people thought that they’d become a Counselor pretty quickly if they went into governing.”

            “Well, they do a lot of good work and help many people in Starfleet,” said Kirk, smiling.

            “We’re sure, and we’re very happy for them,” said Nikomedes, clearly speaking the truth. It was evident that (Y/N)’s family loved them very much.

            “It is merely that empaths will such strong abilities usually stay on Celia or close to Celia since their skills are perfect for our planet,” said Eirene.

            “Other Celians have gone to Starfleet,” said Spock, not to argue but to discuss. “What makes (Y/N)’s position unique?”

            “The Celians in Starfleet have the basics of empathy to work well in confined quarters with others,” said Eirene. “And (Y/N)…”

            “(Y/N) was the prodigy,” said Alekto. “Their empathic abilities are off the charts in strength.”

            Nikomedes nodded. “So we worried when they chose Starfleet since we don’t want them to be harmed because of how much they feel from others and because it was unusual.”

            “Is (Y/N)’s empathy really that strong?” asked Uhura, surprised. “I thought what they could do was normal.”

            “All empaths can feel and manipulate emotions to some degree,” said Eirene. “Most have a specific emotion or sensation they specialize in. (Y/N) is strong in everything. A lot of people were hopeful they’d stay on Celia since such strength could be helpful.

            “But if they’re doing well and happy, that’s all that matters to us,” said Nikomedes.

            Eirene nodded. “Yes. We don’t care about people’s expectations for (Y/N). We’re just happy they’re happy.” She paused. “Alekto, dear, Nikomedes and I still need to pick up a few things for the lunch. We’ll return in a bit, alright?”

            “Right, Auntie,” said Alekto, smiling, watching her aunt and uncle walk away. She glanced at the Starfleet officers. “You know, there’s one more thing Uncle Nikomedes and Aunt Eirene didn’t mention.”

            “Oh?” asked Spock, raising an eyebrow.

            “Yeah,” said Alekto. “No one really wants to talk about it, but, uh, people thought (Y/N) would stay on Celia because even though they have really strong empathy, a lot of people thought they were pretty and could do well in something traditionally Celian.”

            “So not just bureaucracy and helpfulness,” said Bones.

            “(Y/N)’s said that they don’t like people looking at their appearance,” said Uhura. “They had a lot of trouble at the Academy because of it.”

            “What would (Y/N) have done with their empathy if not use it?” asked Spock, not liking the idea of people wanting (Y/N) to be a certain way. He knew they were beautiful, but he knew how much more they were.

            “Dancing, modelling, ambassadorship…” Alekto sighed. “Everything that deals with people and perception can be helped by appearance. Plus, (Y/N) is very free-spirited. People thought Starfleet was too ‘serious’ for them.” She smiled. “But I remember that as soon as (Y/N) realized that’s what people, they refused to back down. If there’s one thing (Y/N)’s good at, it’s proving people wrong.”

            “They’ve definitely shown what they’re worth,” said Kirk, smiling.

            “And many people respect (Y/N) for who they are,” said Spock.

            Alekto smiled at him. “I’m sure some people do.” She didn’t need to be able to feel the Vulcan’s emotions to know he cared. “And I’m glad (Y/N) really has a place to belong.” She laughed. “I hope they get a chance to really shove it to the people who thought they couldn’t do it.”

            “Very diplomatic,” laughed Uhura.

            Alekto grinned. “I might be an ambassador, but (Y/N)’s my cousin-law-law. So as soon as I’m off-duty, I’m just here to support my family.” She shrugged. “And if I don’t encourage (Y/N) to stand up, Merope will.”

            “We won’t let them be disrespected, either,” said Bones protectively.

            Spock nodded. (Y/N) was his t’hy’la, an incredible person full of passion and strength. They were beautiful, intelligent, skilled, and so much more. But it was everything put together that made (Y/N) the person he loved.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

[thegigilwriter]

9.5 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Fluff

9.5 | Home 🌻

August 6, 2023

“Hmmm, Bradley that tickles!ˮ Lucy laughed as her boyfriendʼs mustache brushed lightly against neck while he bent down to embrace her from behind. Lucyʼs fingers were occupied, stuffing the dumpling wrappers with filling and rolling them expertly into logs. They were together in her apartment. Lucy clad in some old denim shorts, an UMI shirt, and her fluffy slippers; and Bradley in his gray sweatpants and Navy top. Shards of afternoon light streamed in from her windows and Sun-catchers, bringing a hazy, lazy atmosphere into the space.

“Why does he look so angry?ˮ Bradley asked her, his eyes caught in the commotion of the show on Lucyʼs MacBook.

“Oh thatʼs Bates heʼs a valet,ˮ Lucy replied. “Heʼs mad because Mrs. Hughes, the head maid, wonʼt tell him that his wife, Anna, had been raped by another valet belonging to another house.ˮ

“Why wonʼt she tell him?ˮ

“Because heʼll kill the valet, and Anna doesnʼt want her husband back in jail.ˮ Lucy replied nonchalantly.

“Thatʼs understandable,ˮ Bradley hummed. “Iʼd probably kill the son-of-a-bitch too.ˮ

“You wouldnʼt,ˮ she breathed facing him. “Because you would leave her all alone.ˮ

“Angel,ˮ he whispered. “If anyone did something that unforgivable to you, I would hunt them to down to the ends of the earth, push him off of it, and nobody would know.ˮ

“Youʼre just saying that because youʼre so glad to be home,ˮ Lucy giggled, reaching up to kiss his scarred cheek.

“Maybe,ˮ Bradley grinned with a dark glint in his eyes. “But Iʼm also deadly serious.ˮ

“Bradley, I would much rather have you over my justice.ˮ “And over your peace?ˮ

“You are my peace,ˮ Lucy said to him softly.

They stayed there for a while, in their own little pocket of quiet and domesticity. When Lucy had wiped her oily fingers clean, Bradley turned her around and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. He stared into her sweet, caramel orbs for a considerable amount of time before leaning down to kiss her lips. He cupped her cheek lovingly.

“And you are mine,ˮ he whispered.

The moment Bradley had shown interest in Mr. Bates, Lucy commenced Downtown Abbey from season one. Which brings them to post-dinner cuddles on her couch, sharing a pint of napoleon ice cream, as well as hearty commentary.

“Is she always that smug?ˮ Bradley remarked observing Lady Mary as she briefly brushed shoulders with Matthew Crawley, passing by him with a subtle smirk.

“Sheʼs beautiful and she knows it,ˮ Lucy sighed. “A woman who knows that is one to be reckoned with.ˮ

“Oh I know,ˮ Bradley muttered. “They can go either way.ˮ

“What do you mean by that?ˮ Lucy asked him curiously, indulging herself to another spoon of ice cream.

“Angel,ˮ he breathed. “Iʼm going to say something that you might find a little discomforting and... Iʼd rather you to hear it from me than somebody else.ˮ

Lucy nodded, urging Bradleyʼs reply.

“‘My past relationships... werenʼt exactly serious,ˮ he sighed. “I hooked up with women in the service and I didnʼt really want to be tied down. I know that talking shit about exes can be a red flag... but thereʼs at least one of them you should know about.ˮ

“Why? What did she do?ˮ Lucy narrowed her eyes perplexedly.

“Sheʼd chew me out and take me back, it was really... a cycle of drama.” Bradley told her. “And as it turned out, I did not know this by the way, she was with a fellow pilot while she was also with me,ˮ he shook his head. “She said that she was about to break it off with him to be with me, when I ‘broke’ up with up her first. She nearly got me grounded for misconduct. And she was able to do that because she also had one of the higher-ups wrapped around her finger.ˮ

Lucy whistled.

“I know,ˮ Bradley chuckled, reaching for her small hand and holding it in his. “I kinda learned my lesson since then.ˮ

“Iʼm sure you have,ˮ she chuckled in return.

Bradley laughed.

“Are you in any way... upset?ˮ He squeezed her fingers lightly.

“That depends.ˮ

“On what?ˮ

“Are you... in a serious relationship, now?ˮ

Bradley reached for her hand and kissed them tenderly.

“Angel, Iʼm also telling you all this in case you run into her — and where weʼre going, if youʼll let me, there is a high chance of that.ˮ

Lucy cocked her head questioningly.

“I wanna take you to the Hard Deck,ˮ Bradley smiled. “I wanna show you off to my friends and people I consider family. I wanna let them know that Iʼm serious about you — and how lucky I am. Letʼs get official, baby.ˮ

“Letʼs,ˮ Lucy grinned, reaching to caress his scarred cheek and tasting the chocolate on his lips.

I hope you enjoy reading the next chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. A past, dramatic situationship? How will Jake and Lucy’s prior meeting play into her first Hard Deck visit? On to the next at 10 | The Hard Deck!

[the-one-who-lambs]

how many cotl related dreams have you had by now?

Oh my god all my new followers are gonna have to get caught up to speed huh? So if I rotate something in my brain enough, the likelihood of me thinking about it as I'm falling asleep makes my chances of dreaming about it astronomically higher. Most notably, every other month or so I've had like.. a lucid dream where Shamura and I are just vibing in what seems to be their library. (This is why Pura drew me the Shamura profile picture actually.) Results have varied.

I'm just gonna copy and paste directly from my dream log document I have in the notes section of my phone.

-Shamura Lucid dreams. What have we done... Just chatting, talk about fears and shit, gave them a bubble tea (didn't go well), hug (not super comfy but it was nice anyway).. mostly just talk. They suck at jokes. They are literally so sweet and CONSTANTLY DEPRESSED BUT their presence is so comforting I don't know how else to describe it. Such a friend fr. Looked through their library.. I didn't understand anything but it looked cool but also felt like if I looked at anything wrong I'd set myself on fire by accident. Idk. most recently I talked to them about Gender Thoughts™ and just asked them how they knew they were nonbinary and they hit me with a "Well how did you know YOU were nonbinary ::)" motherfucker you are ten steps ahead of me right now. Forget the trans allegory of trying to "crack the egg." They put it in the microwave and tried to fucking explode it.

-Heket was my wife and we went swimming

-Shamura ran a Mexican restaurant, made good nachos

-Abstract dream, saw all five bishops. Just kind of observed stuff from the outside rather than interacting with them but nothing was super clear, other than them reuniting

-dream that lasted like 2 minutes, Shamura with a little Narinder. I think I was like watching an animated short tho, they weren't actually there. (Note: I still want this so bad)

-I was the Lamb and I went crusading and when I was done Leshy gave me a reward. I don't know why. I chose having a new scar (love that getting injured was my reward) and another choice was like .. the bishops had stronger weapons to fight me with?

-Kallamar (I'm pretty sure from @meatcatt's Redo AU. Great I'm dreaming about AUs of friends now.) was in his Gaming Hole™ and I went to say hi but I startled him and he like... Broke his mug or something and the noise woke me up at 4:45 in the morning.

-Choose ur starter pokémon (Bishop). They were all little and lying down on a table. I wasn't able to pick just one so I made some fried rice instead?? Also I was moving into a house with Ryan (note: my younger brother. I'm the first of 4 kids, he's the second of us)

-I was immediately transported back to 6th grade with all the knowledge I have now and started making predictions about the future that were all correct because I had lived it. One of the things I predicted was some sort of apocalypse that involved a red fungus taking over the world. All of the Bishops were responsible for this, and I distinctly remember Kallamar in a spaceship.

-Leshy disintegrated in front of me???? I think I killed him with my mind I'm SO SORRY LESHY

-Saw Shamura on 3 separate occasions on one night. One they were helping me win a competition to win a house but the house was boobytrapped and haunted and I had to get through the boobytraps to win it wait how were they helping me exactly?, second we were farming together I think in that exact house and we had like so many vegetables I couldn't fucking move and third we were selling ice cream together.

-I saw Narinder!!! Finally!! I was in some. Sermon thing. And he was giving a speech about peace for his followers. Idk (oh wait I didn't remember I had dreamt about him before)

-Had a dream that I became Heket's vessel. At the end of the dream, she turned against me and tried to reclaim her crown. I didn't see that one coming, somehow. Also, the fight took place in my parents's bathroom.

[thefirstknife]

Interesting info from today's TWAB (it will never be TWID to me) about the Veil Log quest!

Veil Containment will continue being unlocked for the remaining three weeks of Season 21, and additional entries will unlock at the start of Season 22 and Season 23.

We have three more entries until the end of the season and then two more: 1 at the start of season 22 and 1 at the start of season 23. That will be a super painful wait. I can't imagine what this last entry could possibly be that it would be such a delayed tease.

The narrative team also acknowledged that they made the quest a little too secretive by trying to turn it into something players would have discover for themselves:

Narrative Team: The Veil Containment repeatable activity continues to tell the story of Neomuna’s history with the Veil as introduced in Lightfall. If you haven’t checked in with Osiris and Nimbus yet, you might not be alone. In wanting Veil Containment to be something discoverable, we went a little too far in one direction and made the activity hard to find, even for the lore-hounds interested in digging more into the Veil. (A lesson learned for any future content of this sort!)

And the rest of the stuff on the quest is soooo juicy and I believe they nailed the vibe they intended perfectly.

Writing the story of Veil Containment was an opportunity to dig into the cosmic horror side of Destiny. Creating the encrypted records of Ishtar Scientist Chioma Esi as she and her wife researched an alien force was a chance to bring the essence of things like the SCP Foundation and creepy podcasts like the Magnus Archives into Destiny.

Movies like Altered States and 2001 a Space Odyssey helped inform the tone of the messages you uncovered, all of which are underlined by the emotional story of Chioma Esi and Maya Sundaresh’s lives unraveling in the aftermath of the Collapse and their contact with the Veil. We’ve even seen some keen-eyed players noticing similarities between what Maya attempts with the Veil to what the Witness did in sacrificing its own people, and even what Calus did with the Crown of Sorrows and a pack of Scorn. Those threads and thematic recurrence are intentional guidelines anchoring us to related moments in the past, and help the curious delve into the deeper lore armed with a fistful of useful citations.

The bolded bit is really good! It's something that we've been discussing a lot. I haven't directly mentioned Presage much recently, but it's been on my mind too and I'm super excited to revisit it next season when it returns.

Another source of inspiration during the creation of Veil Containment was the relation between an outside observer and the concept of the Winnower mentioned in the Books of Sorrow. We wanted to explore the relationships people experience to cosmic, otherworldly forces beyond their understanding and how it tears both their own moral foundations and sense of self apart at the seams. As we’ve discovered with Osiris and Nimbus over the past few weeks, the Veil is a cosmic collective consciousness, a psychic network that spreads like a mycelial network through the universe. There’s intentional visual and thematic connections to Egregore there. But also, an allusion to the famous scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf warns Saruman about using the Palantir. “You don’t know who else may be watching.”

I assume it should say "Unveiling" instead of Books of Sorrow. Other than that, this is absolutely my fave. That last line gave me legitimate chills. The connections with egregore are important as well and I'm sure we'll get more mentions of that in the future. Again, Presage was our first real exposure to egregore so I'm happy to return next season. Technically, our first exposure to egregore was the Derelict, Drifter's ship, but it wasn't until Presage that egregore was identified and named (and deliberately connected to the same entity that we've previously seen on the Derelict). Really good summary of egregore lore if you want to dig a little! Also throwback to the (I think) first time I mentioned the explanation for egregore, back in February 2021 when Presage was hot off the press. Actually staggering to me right now that this was 2 years before Lightfall's heavy theme of collective consciousness and merging of minds and they already dropped hints to it back then. Wild stuff. Also take a look at Bungie's dive into making Presage (spoilers obviously for those that never played it).

Capturing that sense of foreboding unknown is a staple of cosmic horror. The moment where you realize that your role in the universe is a small one, that the universe itself may be uncaring, and things lurk in it that you have been blissfully unaware of. As our cast is pushed through these harrowing experiences, it also sets the stage for the future in The Final Shape and beyond.

So true bestie. I am absolutely thriving with this lore and development. Cosmic horror is literally the only thing that matters to me and the sheer scale of how this is presented in Destiny with the Veil, Veil Logs, the Witness and its origins and everything around that has been the best thing in Destiny lore for me tbh. I've always been most interested in researching Darkness and this exploration of it as a cosmic force of consciousness that drives people to incomprehensible actions and spreads like a mycelium network is an absolute blast.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Exile: Part 7

The village was busy and bustling, teeming with more human life than you had ever seen before, even on the journey toward the kingdom, toward your captivity.

There had never been so much going on that you had seen, and it was hard not to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the manner in which people had wandered the streets and the markets intending to conduct their business as usual.

The entrance to the village had been marked with a hand-carved sign hanging between two corded logs that had been held in place by a makeshift kind of fence that had continued a few feet on either side. The sign was clear and well-maintained and would have been illuminated by oil lamps if they had been turned on.

“Let me show you around.” Bucky had drawn you to the left, allowing a horse-drawn cart to pass by, the father and little boy sitting on the bench had both turned to look at you with curiosity, although the father had soon turned away while the boy looked on.

You hadn’t known whether it was because you were wearing something that had been crafted and designed with the royal crest, the fine gold and silver threads that marked your cloak apart. The gift from Steve was meant to keep you from freezing, was comfortable and warm, it had staved off the chill of the winter air and the gusts of wind that had ripped through you.

Though you were not used to this kind of chill, it seemed that most people milling about the markets had no trouble with the weather. They hadn’t seemed to be any colder than they would’ve been on a crisp autumn day whereas you, if not for Steve’s gift, would’ve been chilled right to the bone.

“This is the market, there are a few people who live right on the market street, others live further into the village and of course, there are outlying farmers. Steve has guards and knights set up right in the village to dissuade any violence from bandits and thieves, spies from other kingdoms-“

“He cares about his people.” You muttered under your breath, a brief and albeit momentary admiration for the royal prick.

“He does care.” The sound Bucky made was crossed between a laugh and a snort, it was made as he observed your hardened shell slip just enough to give Steve half a compliment. “And you do-“

“I promised I would kill you after I kill him. I can rearrange that order.” You huffed and grit your teeth, denying Bucky and the claim that there was anything less than pure animosity for the man who had taken you from your home and demanded that you become his wife and queen.

The entire chase and the series of risks you’d taken to escape before arriving had created another surge of anger and irritation between the two of you that was extensive.

It was the back and forth, the two of you clashing with what you wanted or needed that was entirely different from you to him. You had been hidden away, squirrelled away by your guardian who had hated the kingdom, who hated him.

She had wanted to keep you safe from his ire and his power though she had never given a direct reason why and you hadn’t bothered to ask. You had expectations of Steve Rogers, an impression that he was a beast and a monster who was maddened by the death of his first wife and the faked soulmate mark of the other woman.

“Calm yourself down, nymph. Wait until I show you around before you decide to rip my throat out.” Bucky was no less worried than he was amused, treating your threat like it was nothing more than a kitten’s yowl. “Do you like bread?”

You tilted your head and studied Bucky, the great Captain of the Guard, as he straightened his tunic and fiddled with the belt around his waist, his fingers nimbly touching the blade he kept on his person. He had worked on his appearance, running his hands through his hair and genuinely appearing to be a nervous wreck while looking at the path that went straight through the market.

“What kind of question is that?” You finally spoke, drawing his attention from the market stalls and the people milling about, back to you. “Do I like bread? What is wrong with you? You look like you’ve been stung in the ass by a hornet.”

Bucky appeared bashful, he had blushed and stuttered slightly. Despite this being one of the first times you and he had been together, there was a kind of ease between you that felt familiar. It was like the two of you had been friends for years, as if you’d known each other for a lifetime.

It was much easier to threaten harm to Bucky without genuinely meaning it, almost as if you were speaking to a sibling than it was threatening Steve. The King who had taken you had deserved the full weight of your ire, Bucky Barnes, the Captain of the Guard, was not your true target.

“The blacksmith,” Bucky had begun walking with you again, stepping onto the path that would lead you throughout the market, passing by a few stalls with their wares and what fresh fruit was still available in the winter months, “is at the edge of town.”

“I doubt they’ll have bread.” You muttered, rubbing your hands down the front of the cloak Steve had gifted you. “I doubt the arrogant King would let his captor into a shop with sharp weapons.”

“The tailor and seamstress,” Bucky had spoken again, still as anxious as he was when he mentioned bread, had run his fingers through his hair again, “are at the edge of the market.”

With every step you took, you felt eyes on you. The gazes of those you passed, or had passed you, were curious or scrutinizing, their intents varying from wonder to ire and disgust. You had no doubts by now that people had known who you were and what you had meant to Steve.

The fact that you were ripped from the farthest and deepest portion of the woods would certainly earn you a reputation. Steve had called you a forest wench, others would likely call you a forest whore or forest fucker, neither of which was any better than being called a wench.

“The baker,” Bucky had exhaled slowly, coming to a stop before a shoppe that had been radiating a delicious smell of honey-infused bread and sweet tendrils of sugar and cinnamon, “do you like…bread?”

You stepped up before he could and pushed the door open, entering the shoppe to be greeted with the invigorating scent of baking bread. Your stomach had grumbled, hunger rallying you to move toward the edge of the wooden display, your eyes studying the various colours of bread that were set upon shelves.

“Bucky! Hi!” A woman with thick plaits that were pinned behind her head had chirped, drawing your attention and the bumbling Captain’s, to herself. “Back so soon?”

“I’m showing-“ He hesitated, nervous and anxious before the pretty young woman who appeared to be your age, if not a year or two younger.

“King Steve’s bride,” her eyes had grown wide and she began to bow her head and curtsy, the action making you furrow your brows, your lips pursed, “it’s an honour-“

“I am not that arrogant pinworm’s bride.” Your voice was like ice, it had stopped the motion of her curtsying and giving you more praise than you deserved. “I’m more like his prisoner or his little trapped doll.”

“Y/N,” Bucky had stepped beside you, drawing a hand toward the woman behind the display, “this is the baker’s daughter-“

She was beautiful and seemed soft, with enough grace and charm to make Bucky want to fall over his feet. Her thick black hair was set in plaits that had been pinned as you had previously observed, however when you had gotten a better look at her, you could see soft gold beads that were woven into a few strands of her hair at the crown of her head.

She had flour dusting the front of her apron and a few flecks on her cheeks, the act of making today’s special loaves was not lost on her or her dress, and both had made Bucky appear even more captivated.

“I have your favourite,” she had set a small closed pie onto a piece of cloth and secured the top, holding it out for him to take, offering him a warm smile as she waited for him to take it.

“Thank you,” Bucky’s voice was warm, it was soft and tender, and there was a moment of silence between the two before he cleared his throat and drew his attention away, “Steve would like some fresh rye bread, I know you have-“

“I have five loaves set aside for you. If you could give me a few minutes to bundle them up?” She was as focused on him as he was on her, and you were the observant party who was almost gleeful to watch the man stumbling over his feet.

“We can wait,” you spoke for Bucky, drawing yourself to the far wall away from the display shelves.

He was already on edge, already irritated by the constant barrage of the council and his advisors who were pushing for him to take their daughters as mistresses and whores, the women who he could fuck while keeping his wench as nothing more than a trophy or a placeholder.

They had been bothering him endlessly while he was preparing for the few dressmakers in the village to come and take your measurements in order to fit you with an entire wardrobe befitting his future wife and Queen.

He didn’t need the offers for whores or mistresses. He didn’t need their daughters to be thrown at his feet for favouritism or to gain ground upon the other nobles. He wanted and he needed his future queen to be by his side, everything and everyone else had fallen short.

And yet…when he had returned to his private wings of the castle, the private areas that were meant for the king and queen, a few handfuls of servants and chefs, he had found his annoyance reignited when he had been stopped by one of the maids. The arrival of news that you would not be sleeping with him, in his bed or even in his room, had sparked a new flurrying and scathing reaction.

“If you think for one crazed nanosecond that I would ever share a bed with you-“ You drew your hand back in recoil as he grabbed your free hand and yanked you across the hallway from the bath chambers.

“You are my wife-“

“Not yet I’m not.” You ripped your arm from his, spiteful gaze burning into his steely glare. “And I don’t plan to be, your royal pain in the ass.”

“Wench-“ Steve hissed, his nostrils flaring and the scent of spiced meat and rum radiating from the private dining room.

“Kidnapping swine.” You countered and bristled past him when the servant had come to announce your dinner, stopping short with widening eyes when he had caught the anger of the king.

“I expect my wife to warm my bed-!” Steve stalked after you, his heavy footsteps echoing in the short hall.

“Then find one who can stand to be in your presence.” You snarled, your lip curling in defiance and your hands striking him when he reached for you again. “Let me go and find some pleasure maid to keep you warm.”

“You are my soulmate, you are my wife and the future queen of my kingdom. I am king!”

“Good for you, I’m really glad you know who you are.” Bucky moved from the corner of your eye, drawing both your eyes toward him.

“If you’re done tearing at each other’s throats,” he quipped with a smirk, “I’d like to eat while the food is still hot.”

“Bucky-“ “Barnes-“

“You need to hate fuck, get it out of your system.” Bucky shrugged, getting away with the comment because of his long history with Steve, but narrowly missing the goblet you threw at his head.

“I’d rather shove a hot iron up his ass and watch the steam come out of his mouth than spend one second-“

“Perhaps you should fill your mouth to bide your tongue.” Steve sneered, yanking his chair back to sit on the cushion. “Come sit with me wench, if you’re not going to warm my bed at least you could warm my lap.”

The perpetual silence felt like it was charged with cracking electricity that was a precursor to a surging light night strike that would obliterate everything within its reach.

There was nothing, not a single beat of sound that had come from either Steve or yourself, and Bucky was too busy watching everything as if it was his entertainment. He had sat by the table with a goblet of rum in his hand and a roasted spiced chicken leg in the other, tearing into the meat with his teeth as he watched the two of you, silently, standing off against each other.

Steve had waited for you to speak, he had waited for you to do something, anything, while he reached for his cup and pressed the rim to his mouth and slowly tipped the glass back. He had swallowed the entire glass of wine in one shot and set it back down with a bang.

“Are you going to sit? Or would you prefer to stand all night, wench?” Steve had reached, again, for the table and within a moment had recoiled his hand with a hiss.

You had, at the moment between him reaching for the table, thrown a knife toward the table and his hand. The blade had struck the table less than an inch away from his hand, the throw and the force behind your throw adding to the tension in the room.

“I would rather starve than eat with you.” You gave your final decision and swiped one of the pitchers of wine from the table, turning sharply on your heel to leave the private dining room as quickly as you had gotten there.

You were not halfway down the hall when his hand caught your arm and your back had met the wall, Steve keeping you trapped against the hard surface and his chest. He had glowered down at you, his blue-green eyes darkened with a thrush of swirling emotions that was heady and had been almost impossible to distinctively differentiate between the first and last.

You had raised your hand, you had gone to strike him with the pitcher of wine, acting out of basest instincts, and had once again been stopped by his quick reflexes. The pitcher of wine had fallen from your hand, falling to the floor with a loud clatter as the delicate red had spilled from the opening, the liquid splashing against the two of you although neither of you had paid any mind.

He had captured your hands in his as he leaned against you, holding you to him by the strength of his chest and his strengthen. He locked eyes with you as his lips pursed tightly, the warmth from his body was radiating and intoxicating if it had been anyone other than him.

“You will not endanger yourself and think that I’ll let you rid yourself of me.” He had glowered at you, his voice husky and hoarse. “I’d feed you myself before I let you starve.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Huh? To have some little pet sitting at your feet? Some backwoods forest whore-“

“You are my queen, my wife. You have so much more value—“

“You don’t think so. No one thinks I am anything but a whore.” You felt the crack, you felt that perpetual chip falling off your guard, the loosening pieces from the walls you had built to keep yourself safe.

“You and everyone else think I’m a little whore or some kind of animal that crawls in the dirt. You call me a wench, how valuable can I be?”

There was a shift in tension, and you were left feeling stuck when he rested his hand against your neck, his thumb brushing your jaw. There was a definitive moment where his eyes had softened and his lips had parted as if he wanted to speak and mumble something akin to a kind word.

That tension and the moment of blissful tenderness had wavered when you scoffed and recoiled from him, mistaking his silence for confirmation of your lack of self-worth. You began the struggle to get him off of you, fighting with everything you could to give yourself enough space to run. You pushed and pulled, you had attempted to rip your wrists from his hands, thrashing between his chest and the wall to seek any opening to escape him.

“Y/N!” His voice was bolstering and it had ceased your fight long enough for Steve to pin your wrists above your head and push his thigh between yours.

You were trapped again, without the ability to verbally accost him. His lips had crashed against yours in a searing kiss that was fuelled by sexual tension and emotional drive, the feeling of his lips moving against yours was bolstering and electrifying. You had resisted the urge to moan or whine into his kiss when his thigh clenched and you had fallen into him.

You were being overrun with different thoughts and feelings that were crashing against each other, every thought and beat of your heart was rooted in the feeling of Steve switching positions. He had captured your wrists in one hand while the other had slowly started to slip up your tunic, his fingertips grazing the width of your waist and stomach as you wavered against his touch.

“Interesting turn of events.” Bucky had quipped, his voice bringing the kiss to a screeching halt.

You had been given the chance to yank your wrists free from his hand and with every possible ounce of strength you could muster, you had rammed your shoulder into his chest to give you an escape route. You didn’t turn back, you didn’t dare look over your shoulder as you ran down the stone halfway with everything you had.

You didn’t even know where you were going, you had just seen an out and you took it, your feet carrying you throughout the halls of the castle that had still seen other souls hanging around before the castle gate was closed.

It didn’t matter where you were going, all that mattered was you had put as much distance between yourself and him.

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