#and are the only two people on earth who truly understand each other

[starconstruction]

Equilibrium and The Beginning of the End

Yena x Male Reader(smut)

Part 3 of Hypothermia and The Cosmos

read part 1 and part 2 if you havent already :)

thanks for all the support on the previous two parts!

smut tags: ass eating (f receiving) , blowjob, riding, soft, throatpie, cum on body

WC: 4087

feel free to send me asks! i'll happily answer most of them!

not proofread

The abyss of the vast array of space was more comforting than the last time you two, you'd begun a voyage towards anywhere. She was the commander of the ship, sat in her chair, fiddling with controls on her complicated array. You were taking inventory again, the fight on those planets dwindled vital resources, food, water and fuel was no issue. The problem came with the lack of entertainment for the potentially endless expedition. You walked towards Yena, clanking metal as your hand coiled around her chest.

"How's it going Yenie" you teased, a silly nickname to break the thick emptiness of space.

A light slap came to your chest, her face scrunching in her soft features as she grimaced about the abhorrent nickname, "You are never calling me that again, understand?" she replied, her voice a mockery of seriousness as she pretended to be offended.

"It's going good Y/N! Can you believe it?! We are back on track, and your alive!" Her energy was contagious, a smile appearing on your face as she hopped around in her chair. Hitting a tiny dance as Yena celebrated your joined success, god she was truly perfect.

Her hands returned to the console, hitting buttons and pulling levers, colours lighting up as she performed tech magic. You felt a seed of pride bloom in your chest as you watched her movement, none of it made sense to an observer, only those who studied the books of the Technocrat from old earth. Something Yena referenced a lot, from what you could gather it was a legendary pilot who invented easier space travel before the world went dark with smog.

Yena finished her button mashing, kicking herself out of the chair. Approaching you, arms wrapping around your neck as she gave you a quick peck on the lips, pulling away as quickly as she arrived.

"Come onnnn! It's in autopilot, let's go cuddle!" she pleaded, dragging you by your arm as she pulled you towards your makeshift couch, the pillows from the company provided beds. Multiple blankets laid down on the ground. Covering up the cold metal of the ship floor. What really made the setpiece was the plushies Yena had in her box, seemingly endless as she stored more and more unauthorised items that came to light.

Yena pulled you down, your body made contact with the soft blankets. Pressing backwards into the pillows, Yena followed as she sat down next to you. You threw the thickest blanket you two found over each other, the soft cotton bounced the shared body heat around. You two were in relative bliss, Yena leaned into your body, head against your chest. Looking down as your arm draped over her shoulder. Her body naturally fit into yours as you two stayed connected like two puzzle pieces.

Yena was the first one to break the silence, adjusting to get more comfortable. "So, I was thinking, maybe I can figure where they went, yknow the other people?" she said.

"You think they're still alive?" You replied.

"I mean, if we landed with no engine chances are they landed with one." her hands rubbed circles on your leg absentmindedly as she pondered.

"You're probably right, we could have a look. Civilisation isn't going to rebuild with just two of us."

Yena gave a small nod from her position and you two sat there, bodies interlinked as you enjoyed each other's company. For the first time not against an arctic inferno, a planet that wanted everything dead. A memory that strengthened your bond together.

Hours passed sitting there, the expanse of space gave you two all the time in the world, you two were both burning up in the climate of your intimacy, neither of you two wanting to be the one to break the connection, but both of you wanting to get out of the scorching hug. You broke your connection, lifting Yena away as you stood up, going off to do whatever.

Yena fiddled with the strange terminal on the side of the ship, something you couldn't even read. Glyphs that Yena tapped and observed as a diagram of a ship came up. It was a life like model that wasn't entirely too dissimilar, fingers pressing into the screen, moving the model of the ship looking for something. You watched in awe as she did her magic, she was truly incredible and you couldn't stop repeating it.

"Ah hah!" she beamed, "I've got a lock on their location" tapping as an image of the planet appeared, how much strength was reliant on this engine? It looked similar to an image of a poster of old earth, dominantly green with trees cut through with a deep blue, creating swirls around the image. A potential home for you and Yena.

Your leg surged up in pain as you fell to the floor, propping yourself against the wall of the space craft, a expression of worry etched into Yena's face as she came down to sit next to you. Skin touching as her hands enveloped yours. "It's gonna take a few earth days to reach their orbit, I'll take care of you until then." she smiled brightly at you.

"Thank you, my love" you replied.

-

You woke up sometime later, unable to identify how long it's been by the lack of any sun, similar to your time on old earth. A strange noise filled the ship, the sound of metal tearing other metal apart and forging something new. Large sparks flew out through the air, Yena was working on something, clearly an active mind.

"What ya working on Yena?" you asked, limping as you approached her workstation.

"it's a rock smasher thing. Names still pending yknow?" she replied, picking up the framework of her creation, lifting it to the light. A large wooden handle was resting between her hands, thin scraps of metal residing around some stone from the mine you two found the engine stone.

" I see, needed something to do?"

"Yeah, we got a few days. I thought I'd make one so we can do whatever we need to build our new home."

"Good idea Yena. Let's hope all goes well"

-

Excess fuel burned as your ship dived down into the atmosphere of the hopeful planet, the darkness of space replaced by the brightness of the sky, a strange pastel green. This planet was much larger and lively than the previous, dark green leaves spotted over the wide green plains, this planet was so green.

A small ship could be seen as you two descended lower, the signs of life obvious as wooden buildings laid around it. Herds of cattle enjoying the grass as they roamed near the tiny village. You two lowered down beside it, a puff of smoke consuming the floor as you two landed.

The air was crisp and refreshing as you two landed, walking down onto the grass, weapons in your bags as you walked towards the settlement made by the other flight crew members. It was much larger up close, giant wooden walls propped up everywhere as a massive watchtower observed over the centre. You two approached the gate, shoddily made out of wood and metal scraps.

"Hey! Boss it's them! The other two! Yeah I'll let them in to talk" The gatekeeper said, screaming at the top of his lungs to the mysterious "boss".

The gate was opened and you two walked in, holding hands as you followed the guard, there was a faint glimmer of hope within your heart, could this be the start of civilisation?

The guard had stopped in front of a door, it had a sign that read "Commanders office", Yena squeezed your hand in worry. The guard walked off without saying a word. Gesturing for you to go in.

Your hand pushed open the door, giving way to the office, silent for the scratching of pencil, a familiar face was sat at the desk. The other pilot, the one that nearly cost you and Yena's life. Anger boiled inside as your hand clenched into a ball.

The pilot looked up, a sense of surprise filled his face. Pencil dropping against the desk as he sat backwards, smugness radiating from him.

"Oh. You made it, congratulations." Sarcasm dripped from his voice thickly like poison. You could feel Yena's anger pooling up by the way she gripped your hand. Before you could intercept she fling at him, jumping over his desk as she slammed him into the wall. A strong thud shaked the wall with tremendous force.

"You fucking asshole! We could have both died before you couldn't drive! Did you not learn or were you too busy to pay attention?!" Her arm pressed further into his neck, his fear evident as he struggled to breathe. Yena looked so hot when she was angry, but she couldn't kill him or else you'd both be fucked.

" Yena, lay off a bit honey. We won't be able to do anything if we both get killed." You said, keeping your voice soft. You could feel the tension lighten as she softened her impact.

"Get your fucking hands off me, you lived. No big deal, now. If you want to talk business, we can talk. If not, get off this planet before I get mad." He spat. You pulled Yena back into your arms.

He continued, "Good. You can listen, for the record we were playing spin the bottle. But if you want to help build the future. We could appreciate the help in getting more resources. Get out of my sight, bring back woods, metals whatever. Do it in the morning though, it's getting late. Don't want to run into revenants." God he spoke way too fucking much.

He kicked you out your office as you and Yena went back to the ship for tonight, hooking up your shower and sink to the local fresh water pond.

-

You and Yena were laying down on the makeshift couch again, the night sky coloured a strange pink as you two stared at it. No words have been shared in a few long minutes.

"I love you Yena" You let out accidentally.

"I know, honey you say it a lot." She replied, still staring at the sky.

"I know, I just think it is worth repeating, I love every inch of you Yena. I am so glad I met you."

"Every inch?"

"Every inch."

"In that case, theres something I want to try."

-

Yena was pressed up against the pillows of your "couch", clothes laid discarded to the side in a large pile. Legs spread open as she left herself open to your shared desires. Her arousal was irresistible, body open for your next move, one guided by her earlier confession of her interests. You rested just below her, body next to the inches she wanted you to prove you loved.

You reached your destination, locking eyes with hers as you took your first lick of her asshole, starting slow, teasing her as you breathed in her body wash. The same company provided scent from infi-soap. Mixed with her arousal, creating an intoxicating cocktail of scents you couldn't get enough of. Your licks remained slow and deliberate as you circled her asshole, becoming wet with your saliva as she let out delicate gasps.

"Hmmm fuck.. That's really good.." Yena let out, her voice breathy and empty.

You kept licking, getting more ambitious as your had moved up to her clit, rubbing softly, soft gasps turned into loud moans as they pierced your ears. A sweet chorus filling the room. Your mind was clouded with only thoughts of her as you devoured her awaiting asshole.

Minutes passed as you two enjoyed each other, your tongue grew tired as she grinded her cunt against the bridge of your nose, you could feel her closeness, legs tightening on your shoulders.

"Fuck! Y/N baby, I'm gonna cum fuck!" she screamed, her orgasm hit her like a fright train as her body stopped moving, your tongue kept moving while she came undone. Moans slowed down as the world came to a halt.

"Every inch Yena, I told you." You said cheekily.

"Y-Yeah. I think I've got that" she replied, struggling to get the words out.

You didn't bother to tell her about the agonising pain in your leg.

-

The first major expedition to find resources begun the next morning.

The brisk air wrapped around the trees, endless forests were in front of you. Strange yellow and black creatures flew between the large trees, landing on a small lilac flower. You limped behind Yena, she carried both axes while you held onto food, small scraps incase someone got hungry.

"Here, There's a good amount of wood and I don't see anything dangerous, let's get cutting" She said, an axe suddenly appeared in your hand.

The wood was difficult to cut, leverage was difficult as every swung nearly knocked you over due to the instability of your leg. Worry filled your body, if it came to it. Could you save the person you loved?

You looked over at Yena, already on her sixth tree as you hadn't even cut your first, her elegance was undeniable as each swing was optimised to cut wood down in as few strokes as possible. Leaving nothing but logs in her wake.

Your axe penetrated the surface of the wood, slicing it in half as it fell into the ground, another slice, dividing it again as your arms burned. The wood finally divided into pieces of usable material that could be reshaped, picking it up as you moved to the next one.

-

You and Yena finished cutting wood for the day, but you didn't go home yet. Pulling out the blanket from your food box Yena made out of spare materials on board the ship. Laying it down gently on the ground.

You two took some bread and cheese out the box, food generously given from one of the nice members of the settlement. Yena sat crosslegged, combining the food together as she took a bite, face beaming with joy as she ate non-bland food for the first time in weeks.

She brought the food to your mouth, pressing it against your lips as you opened, accepting Yena's offer, the crunch of the bland bread contrasting the salty cheese. It tasted divine, most likely because you shared it with Yena.

You two sat in each others company, like most of your time. Not a single day since this expedition had you removed from Yena, and you liked that.

Yena pouted slightly, "Are you not going to offer me food?" her voice whiney as she made pleading eyes. Your hands reached towards the food as she slapped them away.

"No, not that food... I want something a bit more.. Personal" Her hand went to your crotch, pressing it slightly as she looked into your eyes.

"God your insatiable" You chuckled as you gave her easier access. Kicking the basket out the way to not spoil the meal.

"You love me for it."

"I love you for everything."

She smiled as her hands started to undo your pants, unzipping them quickly as she tried to free you from your confines. Pulling them down and leaving them half way down your legs, her eyes locking with yours as she made out with your clothed tip, saliva wettening the fabric as she teased you. She moved up, her teeth grabbing the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down in one delicate motion as your rigid shaft went out to greet her. Tapping her nose slightly.

Her hand gripped your base, the sudden feeling caught a shocked gasp out of your throat. She licked at your tip rapidly, several short bursts of pleasure ruptured out of the spots she blessed with her holy tongue, contrasting the sinful actions she administered.

She went lower, performing longer more deep strokes of her tongue. Licking up and down as she pressed your dick firmly against her tongue, her mouth releasing delicate hums as she reveled in your pleasure. Her head game has improved tenfold from her first time by that campfire. Her spare hand going down to rub your balls, compartively like ice compared to the warmth of her mouth. Slowly rubbing in circles as it brought you further into heaven.

Your hips instinctively thrusted into Yena's mouth as her lips were penetrated by your length, sucking her cheeks in as her walls pressed into your cock. Her hands moved away, pressing against your back. Providing enough leeway to press her mouth to the hilt, a few soft gags cams out her mouth. Bobbing up and down as she dragged her mouth from the top to the bottom. Slamming violently against your crotch, tears cropping against her eyes as she gave you the best head of your life.

Your hands grasped at her hair, finding leverage in the silky strands, thrusting stronger as she braced your impact, you knew you weren't going to last any longer, holding her into your base as you shot ropes of semen down her throat. Giving her the meal she wanted.

Her face withdrew, spit connecting you two as she caught her breath. Smiling slightly as she stroked your sensitive length, trying to prevent it from softening. You let out painful gasps as she continued.

"Thanks for the meal" She smiled, before hastily removing the bottom half of her outfit, leaving her cunt fully exposed to nature, you immediately felt ready to go again. The song of nature was playing in your ears, sounds of birds and the wind all around you. It was beautiful, you never got to hear this before. Old earth had no birds when you arrived, all long since dead due to the lack of oxygen.

You were took back out of your thoughts as Yena hovered over you, pressing down impatiently as she took you inside her, her walls gripping on you tightly, you two let out a shared moan with the overpowering sensation, thrusting upwards. Meeting her halfway as you ignored the pleading from your leg.

She leaned forward, clothed breasts in front of your face as Yena kept bouncing, there were no words for her beauty, no words for the shared passion you two engaged in. You greedily pulled off her shirt, Yena providing assistance as you threw it over her head. Taking her bra off revealing her boobs. Something you've indulged in countless times, each time a spectacle as you took one into your mouth. Holding her close as you sucked intensely, moans launching out her mouth as she kept bouncing. Keeping the same pace for several minutes, feeling like hours as you enjoyed the pleasure.

Your hands ran down to her ass, providing firm squeezes as you played with her flesh. Alternating minor slaps between her cheeks, every inch of her was perfect.

"Ugh, oh my god! Y/N, I'm cumming!" Her pussy gripped on you even tighter than before, squeezing you roughly as she came undone.

You felt the familiar pressure creeping all you, shuddering as you pulled her off. Frantically stroking your shaft up and down as you dribbled semen all over her midriff, some splashing on her breasts. You two smiled as you admired the specs of white on her body.

"God, Yena you are incredible.. I love you" You said.

"I know I know, goofball. Let's get home so we can clean up." She replied, putting her clothes on, ignoring the semen that pressed onto her shirt. Picking up her things and you two walked home.

-

Weeks passed as you two provided contributions to the growing society, providing materials that made new buildings, everyone now had their own personal home. Including you and Yena, you two chose to live in the same one. The house was cozy, constructed out of the wood you two had gathered, taking the parts out the ship that was viable to slot into your new home. The main improvement was the bed, significantly bigger than the ones the company had provided, Yena had done her usual decorative work on it, putting the plushies she had earlier on the sides.

The village felt full of life, everyone got along with you two except the boss. Who seemed to still resent you. But you two were happy.

You two completed several resource hunts, but you were always warned to never go out at night. You two were already inseperatable, only tightening together more by the time you spent.

-

You and Yena were sleeping, the day long over as you two rested in each others arms. "AHHHHH! FUCK THERE'S A LOT OF THEM! GET BACK" The loud sounds of screams tore you from sleep, shaking Yena frantically out of dreamland, looking at you in confusion as she rubbed her eyes.

The screams grew louder, "Yena, we've gotta get out there!" you two jumped into action, limping to your desk as you grabbed your knife. Yena right behind you with her axe, desperately opening the door as the sights petrified you.

Light fixtures knocked over as strange beasts approached the village, they were a deep brown, covered in horrific amounts of fur. Large in stature as they towered over you, large sharp nails dug out from their hands. They slowly charged the heart of the village, ready to wreck destruction in their path.

You looked at the gate, undamaged but open. Shit.. "Yena! The gates open, they'll keep coming if we don't get it closed!" You yelled. She nodded as you two started to rush towards it. Another scream rippled out from the other side of the village "HELP! WE CAN'T HOLD THEM OFF!" You two stood at a crossroads, they couldn't die. "Yena, listen to me! Help them! I'll get the gate! Go!" You commanded, she ran off in their direction.

A storm broke out overhead, loud tears of thunder as rain dropped down overhead, drenching the dirt floor, saturating it in water creating a thick mud. Every step stuck to you as you desperately pushed forward to the gate. Approaching the large structure, monsters came into frame out the woods. It was now or never, grabbing onto the handle. Struggling against the wet floor as you pulled it towards the right.

You were nearly done, just a bit closer..

A large hand appeared in the small crevice left in the gate, grabbing onto your arm as it cut through your clothes. The surge of water even colder as it landed against your skin. You pulled out your knife, struggling against the grip of the monster, you panicked. Jabbing against the vein of the monster as you tried to get away. It roared in pain as your knife went further in, dark maroon poured out the wound as you stabbed again, and again, it resisted against your actions.

One final jab and the monster's arm withdrew out the gate. Slamming the gate against the wall as you let out a sigh of relief, grabbing a small plank of wood to trap the handle. Slashes of claws banged out through the gate, it'd hold, it would have to hold.

"HELP!!!! SHIT!" It was Yena, your heart dropped as you turned. Her neck was being held by one of the disgusting monsters, desperately struggling against it's grasp. You ran towards her, knife at the draw. The burning singe of pain in your leg knocked you into the ground, coating your clothes in a thick sludge of mud as you couldn't move. Yena was in danger and you couldn't do anything.

"Get off her!" You looked up, the boss dived a knife into the monsters knee, a large wail came from its throat as it threw Yena into a wall. A large crash rolling out as she fell unconscious, tears pickled at your eyes as you tried to hold it together.

The monster jabbed it's claws into the head of the pilot as his knife slit the monsters throat. Falling down together in a pile of death. The village went quiet, only the sounds of rain filled the air. The beasts by the gates no longer present as their roars disappeared.

You got up, entire body covered in mud as you frantically got to Yena. Her body slumped over against the wooden wall, you picked her up. "SECURE THE VILLAGE, IM GOING WITH YENA!" Carrying her over your shoulder. Bringing her home. The rage of the night now over.

Please be okay.

Yena.

----

A/N - part 4? Hope you enjoyed!

[the-last-vampires-in-santa-carla]

Anyone else notice the similarities between Hannibal and The Hitcher?

[radlymona]

No one will ever understand the Criston/Alicent/Rhaeynra/Daemon love square like I do

[cherrybomb107]

I literally wouldn’t have cared if they decided to pull a Cyberpunk Edgerunners and kill off our entire main cast save for one or two characters and let the bad guys(the establishment) win. Tragedy isn’t the problem. The problem is the way they went about it. The show had so many plot threads to tie up, there was never any time to truly reckon with all the tragedies that were occurring.

Ekko losing his tree because of Arcane poisoning would be tragic. Notice I said “would be” because that plot line is literally never addressed again. It gets brought up, and then forgotten about. Vi being hit by her girlfriend after she makes the decision to put on the uniform of her oppressors and contribute to oppressing her own people in pursuit of a little sister who she can’t accept has changed is tragic on multiple levels! That’s some compelling shit! But the show never meaningfully addresses these issues or lets Vi react to them without throwing her into a new situation where she has to fight and lose something again. All Vi has ever done her entire life is try and fail to protect her loved ones. She gets punished for trying. It’s almost like the universe itself is out to get her! But we never see Vi break down and pick herself back up. We never see her make any choices to do what’s best for her. The plot decided for her and that’s the problem!

Vi and Jinx deciding to go their separate ways after all that they’ve been through would’ve been tragic. These two sister who love each other more than anything having to break apart for who knows how long and holding onto the hope that maybe they can reunite and be sisters again is gut wrenching…or at least it WOULD be if they actually decided to separate! Vi didn’t decide to leave her sister, Jinx didn’t decide to leave Vi, the narrative forced them apart! The narrative keeps ripping them away from each other and it’s starting to feel intentional. Trying to tell the audience that the only way Vi can truly be happy and choose herself is by having her baby sister die and being forced to live with her girlfriend in a city that will be extremely discriminatory towards her is not it. I’m not saying that Vi and Jinx have to ride off into the sunset together. But I am saying that if going their separate ways really was for the best, the show wouldn’t spend so much time trying to convince us of that. It would just happen organically. Which, to me, it didn’t

Jinx losing Isha was yet another tragedy! But the show doesn’t really show Jinx grieving and then deciding to fight for what she believes in after Ekko convinces her to try. She tried to kill herself five times. FIVE TIMES!!! How on Earth did she go from that to a badass piloting an airship, dripped out with her new outfit and steeled sense of resolve? We don’t know because it happened offscreen! I understand the show had time constraints, but come on. This plot line deserved more time to shine. Sevika being on the Council is a tragedy. It’s an empty gesture for one, and majority rules for two. That means Sevika will be forced to try to barter for Zaun’s freedom while being surrounded by a bunch of classist Piltie pricks who despise her and everything she stands for. She will be talked over and talked down to. That’s not a happy ending! But the show frames it like it is! And I’m sorry but if you can’t watch interviews of the writers saying their thoughts on the show and you genuinely believe that they have the range to write Sevika being on the Council as thoughtful commentary? No comment😭😭😭

Caitlyn’s corruption arc is yet another tragedy! Both because of what happened to her AND the fact that the arc wasn’t done! Caitlyn’s arc was supposed to show how no matter how “good” and “kind” a privileged person believes them self to be, their unconscious bias and prejudice against the out group will rear its ugly head the second they experience a fraction of what the marginalized group has been experiencing for centuries. It was so easy for Caitlyn to say “I understand now. How easy it is to hate them.” “Those animals!” “I thought you were different, but you’re not. It’s her blood in your veins!” How easy it was for her to weaponize The Gray. How easy it was for her to work with Ambessa and co sign martial law despite knowing better. How easy it was for her to risk killing a child just to get to Jinx. That’s super compelling! But the problem is we never see Caitlyn wrestle with her decisions. Guilt should be eating her ALIVE and all we get is a complete 180 from her after a time skip! Then she does nothing to redeem herself! And once again, no the writers absolutely did not intend that to be commentary on how the privileged are able to get away with things the lower class would be imprisoned/killed for. If they did then Caitlyn could’ve had a confrontation with someone from Zaun, whether that be Sevika, Ekko, Jinx, Vi or someone else, where they call her out on her hypocrisy. Then we would see her wrestle with that and realize the monster that she’s become.

Unfortunately, all these tragedies are not given the proper narrative weight they deserve. Or they’re not treated as tragedies when they so clearly are! THAT’S the problem! It’s not tragedy, it’s the framing! And it’s the way y’all are so condescending whenever someone criticizes the show. Why is every single critique met with “You didn’t watch/understand the show”? Why is it always “What were you expecting?” “You’re just mad it didn’t go your way.” “You’re just a hater.” “You have no idea how hard writing a script is.” “They planned the story from the beginning, this is how it was supposed to be.” And on and on and on. It’s exhausting! Why is it so hard for y’all to understand that it is possible to understand and have love for something but still have gripes with it? It doesn’t mean I love the show any less! It just means I’d love it even more if not for these certain aspects of it. That’s it, that’s all🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[ultravi0lence14]

Butterfly

sam winchester x angel!reader

1k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: you and sam were complete opposites of each other, and sam had no idea how a gorgeous, pure girl like you could even chose him in the first place.

sam sometimes just stared at you when you weren’t looking, wondering how he got so lucky in finding a girl like you.

you were so sweet, someone sam thought his wretched soul wasn’t worthy of. he’s got demon blood running through his veins, the vessel of lucifer himself. why would you — an angel as pure as snow — even remotely look his way.

that was the funny thing with you angels though. you guys always saw the best in people.

before you touched down from heaven, you had learned the copious stories of the winchester brothers lives. how their mother died, springing them into the hunting life. their tragic upbringing, and how their father raised them poorly. but most importantly, you learned about the youngest.

sam winchester. the boy with demon blood. every angel you spoke to said he was an abomination, but you thought differently.

this wasn’t sam’s fault. he was a defenceless baby, having this curse brought forth onto him by his mother’s actions long before his conception. sam was a victim, a child forced into this life with no say whatsoever; and you felt like the only angel who truly saw it like that.

when you had made it to earth, cordially meeting both sam and dean for the first time, you wondered why your brother’s and sister’s talked so poorly about the man.

he truly was a friendly giant. too sweet for his own good. he cared. about people he didn’t know, his brother especially, and all the strangers he came across on hunts with dean.

watching him console a victim for the first time tugged on your heart strings. he was so kind, so thoughtful and unlike anything said about him up in heaven. it was at that moment you felt your first human emotion. a surge of fondness rushing up your body like bile coming up your throat.

for a fleeting moment, you experienced what human love was truly like.

as time moved forward, you and sam got closer and closer. more often than not, you decided to stay back and research with him instead of going out with dean and cas. you talked with him, learning about his childhood from his mouth and truly understanding the full truth and severity of his life growing up.

the day that he kissed you for the first time was magical, better than the feeling of all angel grace combined. he was nervous, hands shaking as the cupped your face and shyly asking if this is what you wanted.

of course you wanted it. you wanted sam winchester since the moment you saw him, and now you were finally getting what you hoped for.

just as you believed, sam truly was the perfect boyfriend. he was caring and considerate, always willing to drop anything and everything to make sure you were okay. though he was also tough and protective, turning full hunter mode whenever someone bothered you or made you uncomfortable.

one thing you loved was how he spoke to you. he held you at the highest point in his mind, addressing you with the upmost love and respect that he could muster.

because that is how he really saw you. sam in his heart believed that you were possibly the most gorgeous being he’d ever laid his eyes on. you were truly the apple of his eye, and he wouldn’t dream of letting someone as perfect as you go.

he even called you his butterfly. a gorgeous creation of God that flys around and somehow always lands somewhere on him. which was true, because you were a very clingy person.

you two were always holding hands, arms linked, or sam’s arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder. dean had to stop himself from hurling 24/7, and you had to stop yourself from getting cartoonish hearts in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

the peace and serenity that you brought to sam’s life was all he could ever ask for. when you decided to take up drawing and painting, he cherished the times you two would find an empty space, setting down a picnic blanket and drawing whatever your heart desired surrounded by nature.

when he joined you for the first time, and you handed him over a intricately detailed drawing of him sitting down at that very moment, eyes opened and staring woefully at the large trees and flowers surrounding him, he couldn’t help but let a couple tears fall.

“oh no,” you had exclaimed, sitting up on your knees so you could get nearer to him. “you don’t like it, do you?”

he instantly snapped his head towards you, watching as tears filled your bright coloured eyes. his heart shattered staring into your glassy irises, and he cursed himself for ever making you feel like that.

shaking his head and putting down your sketchbook so he could cup your face, sam pulled you over to him so you were delicately perched in his lap. eye’s boring into his as he delicately stroked your cheek.

“i love it butterfly. that is the prettiest drawing i have ever seen. even prettier cause it was made by you.” his cheesy words made you blush, not caring in the slightest how silly you two probably looked to on lookers. with your finger reaching out to trace the slope of his nose, you looked at him with a soft smile on your face, pouring your heart into one look. “you mean that?”

“of course i do.” his eyes held that glossy puppy dog look you loved so dearly, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. “i am not trying to sound cheesy when i say this, but you truly are the best thing that ever happened to me, butterfly. you’re the one of the only one’s who believed in me.”

his words brought a gleeful smile on your face. and as the midday sun trickled across his, you thanked your father for whatever he did to make you and sam come together.

[ink-stainedkiss]

What about Saiki meeting a Reader who has pretty appearance like Teruhashi Kokomi, but has the average mindset and personality like Satou Hiroshi?

You’re Nothing Special (AKA: Perfect)

- Kusuo Saiki

Synopsis: The new student is more than Saiki expected. You are completely ordinary. Nothing about you is different or odd and Saiki loves it. He has decided he must become your closest friend, all throughout a 3-step plan.

Guys I have noticed the favoritism towards this little psychic, which I completely understand. I guess I just thought people would like my Jjk works better, but I’ve been having so much fun with your request. Anyways, this is the first “series” of Saiki I’ve made and I hope you guys enjoy it! Part 2 is in the works as I type ;)

“Regular speaking.”

Regular thinking.

Saiki Thinking.

‘Saiki Speaking.’

Your texts

Saiki’s text

Warnings: None. Although Saiki does act tad bit obsessed about you.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pt.1 ᯓ★ Pt.2

The school was buzzing with anticipation. Whispers flooded the hall of the new girl in school. They wondered if she would be popular or just another extra wandering the halls.

“I hope she’s hot.”

“I’m betting she’ll be a nerd.”

“She won’t be as pretty as me.”

“Maybe she’ll join the math club?”

“Shut up geek.”

Yes, the campus was very excited to see their new classmate. Except for a certain psychic. I really couldn’t care any less. And Saiki meant it. A new student meant another headache Saiki had to endure and it was wishful thinking to hope they didn’t create any sort of problem. As Saiki’s luck would have it, the new girl was moving into his own class.

“Buddy!” An overly loud voice shouted, making Saiki let out an audible sigh,”Have you heard about the new girl?” The big oaf, Nendo, slid his way to Saiki’s desk, carrying along Saiki’s other pain,”I heard that she’s quiet and shy, so I bet you when she gets a look at The Jet Black Wings, she’ll fall into my arms.” Or she’ll run and find the nearest psychologist.

Saiki was so tired of these two, but they clung to him even if he wasn't particularly kind to them. Although, they were both extremely out of the ordinary and they could make perfect distraction. It was as if a lightbulb had flicked on his head, ‘You should go for it.’ Kaidou and Nendo whipped their heads around, astonished by Saiki’s proposition.

“Woah, are you being serious?” Kaidou questioned,”I thought you would call me an idiot or something.” Nendo scratched his neck, a bit freaked out by his buddies' words,”I mean, if Saiki is saying that, then I would listen to him.” Like a flipped switch, Kaidous' unsureness washed away and he was standing confidently with his chest puffed out,”Yeah, I will. Thank you for your wise words, my closest friend.” Good grief. Now you’re just making it weird.

Kaidou marched back to his seat, leaving only Nendo to watch the blue-haired boy pridefully. He looked down, tossing a large thumbs up at the psychic,”You’re a great friend Saiki, I’m so proud.” A tear slipped from Nendo’s eye and Saiki truly couldn’t believe Nendo was a human who walked earth. As he walked to his seat, he slapped his hand on Saiki’s back, and while he could just teleport to the side to avoid his hand, the class was too crowded, so he miserably had to accept the pat.

Eventually the class settled down, everyone in their respective seats. As soon as the bell rang, the teacher clapped grabbing everyone’s attention,”I’m sure you have all heard of the new student,” this caused a small chatter to start, but the teacher continued anyways,”Well, lucky for you guys, she is moving into our class,” Moving towards the door, Saiki’s teacher motioned to it,”Come on in!”

A deafening silence fell over each student, everyone holding their breath as the girl began to walk in. Saiki couldn’t deny his own anticipation, but he was much more toned down. When you finally came into view, Saiki wanted to disappear, teleport out of the school, because there was no way you were going to bring anything good. You stood before the class and Saiki was the only one who could see the tiny golden ring of light embracing you. It wasn’t as blinding as his, or Teruhashi’s, but it was still there.

Those around him let out gasps, because, even if Saiki didn’t want to admit it, you were beautiful. Great. She’ll most likely join Teruhasi’s group or become her enemy. Either way, I want nothing to do with it. His classmates' thoughts made it worse, each of them annoying the psychic more and more.

She’s so hot, but not as much as my goddess.

I can already tell she’s going to love her knight, Jet Black Wings.

What time is lunch again?

“Why don’t you introduce yourself to everyone?” The teacher suggested. You nodded, stating your name,” Um, I hope we all get along,” This intrigued Saiki, just a bit, but his interest was caught nonetheless. The teacher let out an awkward laugh at your bland answer,”Why don’t you tell the class about why you moved here?”

You shrugged,”It’s nothing special, they just moved here because of my moms job and this school was a good option.” The teacher was obviously trying to get more information out of you,”Right and any fun facts about yourself?”

Taking your time, you conjured a few,”I have a pet cat at home and I like to bake.” The teacher's jaw dropped, how can she be so ordinary? They thought,”Do you have a favorite class? At least?” You nodded shortly,”Science is pretty fun.”

The class was so confused. You were so pretty, but so boring. On the other hand, Saiki was having a very good epiphany. There’s nothing weird about you. No odd fascination or addiction. You hadn’t moved to a different school for being a bad student. You don’t play make believe and you don’t seem dumb.

The teacher had dismissed you to your seat and it was then that Saiki realized what you were. You’re not anything special, you’re ordinary. Perfect. A while ago, Saiki had found someone like you, but sadly for him, Hiroshi thought Saiki was too odd to be friends. But you were going to be his redemption. Maybe today the universe was on his side, because you strolled up and sat right next to him. Maybe Saiki was going to enjoy school from now on.

—

The psychic had curated a three day plan on how to become your friend and at the most, your closest friend. Because of your normal introduction, no one spoke about you. The excitement from a few hours ago was gone. Whenever someone asked who hadn’t seen you yet, they waved them off, saying something like,”Don’t even worry about her, she’s like the boringest person here.”

And Saiki adored it. The more people ignored you, the more valuable you became. The word some would describe Saiki as at this time, is obsessed, but how could he not be? Everyday he wished for someone to come along that had no interesting traits about them and you were that person. So the next day, he began the first step to his plan. 1. Prove that Saiki can be kind.

Kind was a bit of a stretch, but he couldn’t be mean to you, even if he tried. He was going to have to play it friendly. The downside to you being normal, meant that nothing problematic happened in your life. So as Saiki sat next to you, waiting for a chance to show you his kindness, no opportunity came forward. You were just taking notes like a normal human. Which Saiki would usually gush over, but he had more important plans. He glanced at your desk, noticing the extra highlighter resting near your notebook. He knew you weren’t going to accidentally hit it, so he took matters into his own hands. Someone has to do it.

Saiki focused on your highlighter, using his telekinesis to pull it closer and closer to the edge of your desk, until it fell onto the floor. People turned their heads, but when they saw you, they didn’t seem to care and turned back. The psychic saw you turn and before you could reach down and pick it up, Saiki was already lifting it from the ground, handing it to you,”Oh, thank you.”

Your short and simple response almost made Saiki forget to answer you, ‘It’s not a problem.’ And that was it, you turned back to your work and left Saiki alone. Little did you know, you were putting that boy in a trance. You barely interacted with him and Saiki was starting to smile.

There was a tiny setback in Saiki’s plan, but he didn’t seem to notice. His first course of action was to prove he was a nice person, but he only spoke to you once, so you didn’t have a great impression of him, just that he had manners. Still, Saiki couldn’t see a problem and left you alone the rest of the day. Well, he searched for you in the halls and the cafeteria, but he would never mention that.

—

The next step was to grow in proximity together. Only sitting with you in one class wasn’t enough time to create a good friendship, so he had to use the resources around him. Like the new duo project assigned by the teacher.

“And Saiki you will be paired with the new girl.” The teacher called out, lifting the two slips of paper they had pulled out of a bowl. Okay, so Saiki may have used his hypnosis ability to make your name appear on the slip, but it’s all in good nature. How else am I supposed to get closer if you’re stuck with some idiot?

After hearing this, you turned to the boy next to you,”I guess we’re stuck together, huh, Saiki?” The psychic couldn’t believe it. You knew his name. You were speaking to him, making jokes, maybe he actually had a chance this time. He gave a soft smile, nodding, ‘I don’t mind it.’

The teacher kept going on about the partner and you turned to him, pulling out your phone,”Here, we can swap contacts to plan a get together.” It was music to Saiki’s ears and he happily accepted your suggestion. Once he put his name into the contact, the bell rang out, making the students around you two stand and exit the class. He passed you back your device, watching as you stood,”Well, see you later, Saiki.”

You gave him a small wave and faded into the crowd of students. My plan is going better than expected.

—

Saiki sat in the lunchroom, surrounded by his group of annoyances, but rather than spending his time listening to the exasperating conversations between Nendo and Kaidou, or over hearing the drooling thoughts of Teruhashi’s goons, his attention turned to his phone buzzing on the table. When he flipped it over, he was surprised to see your name in the notification. It was you. His food was abandoned quickly and he typed back.

Hey, do you have anything going on this weekend?

No I do not, would you like to study together at that time?

It’s like you read my mind lol

Saiki gave half of a smile. If only you knew.

Anyways, yeah that sounds good, does Saturday work for you

Any day works for me, so yes.

Okie dokie my mom already suggested for you to come to my house, so if it’s fine with you, I wouldn’t mind us working there.

Saiki’s smile grew bigger, this had to be a dream. You were inviting him over to your house.

It sounds perfect.

Great! I’ll see you tomorrow :)

Great indeed. It was a good thing Saiki had an extreme amount of patience, or else he might’ve asked to see you after school, but no. Good things come to those who wait. And this reward was most definitely going to be worth the wait. It might even be on the same level as coffee jelly.

Until Saturday…

[a-araiguma-a]

He loved only her

No one in particular, just an elf from the universe of J. R. R. Tolkien. Elf x f!reader

In the ancient forests of Middle-earth, where tall trees concealed the sky, there lived an elf. His people were as eternal as the forest itself, and their hearts were rarely clouded by mortal emotions. But one day, he met a woman—a simple, human, mortal woman. There was something about her that made his heart beat faster: her beauty, which could neither be captured by the finest poets nor sung by the greatest musicians, her mind, so unlike that of other humans, filled with thoughts, ideas, and philosophy, or her eyes, in which one could drown if they gazed too long. It was something he could not understand, but this only made his love grow deeper.

"Cormamin lindua ele lle"—he always wanted to tell her that his heart sang at the sight of her, but it was not the right time, not yet. From the moment of their first meeting, he sought her out and waited for her in this forest every day when the sun's rays gently touched the ground, filtering through the thick foliage.

She told him about her world, about the brief lives of humans, about how they lived and died, dreaming and suffering.

"Lle naa vanima,"—he blurted out one day, not even realizing when he had said it: "You are beautiful." "What did you say?"—fortunately, she didn't understand his words, and that saddened him. It was not enough for him to meet her in the evenings; he longed to extend their conversations, to stretch them out for an hour, two, or forever. He listened to her stories, captivated not by the words themselves but by how her voice filled the emptiness in his soul. Without her, he would never have known the need to fill it.

"Tua amin!"—But did he need help? Did he need to be saved from her? Honestly, no, he was ready to drown in her eyes, ready to die if only to meet her once more. He was ready for anything...

But the Elf did not know how to tell her about his feelings. He understood that the time she gave him was limited, and each moment with her was precious. But how could he explain this? How could he tell her that his heart, which had always been eternal and free, now belonged to her? "The more you love someone," he thought, "the harder it is to tell them." "Nin lithiach, Meleth nín"—she truly enchanted him every time he saw her, even in his thoughts. His beloved. "Guren mil gaim lín"—his heart was in her hands—"Tessa sina ten’ amin"—he asked her to keep it, but in truth, she was free to do with it as she wished, as long as it was her.

And she accepted him. She had loved him too, ever since then, but she understood that it would be difficult for him; her life was short, and what would happen afterward, when she left him? She was ready to weep over such a truth. "Amin uuma malia, Arwen en amin"—it didn't concern him. Being with her and having her even for a moment was already enough. The chance to call her his—that was his happiness. His Lady, who ruled his heart and mind.

As the years passed, she began to talk more often about parting, though it pained the elf to hear it, he couldn't disagree. "When the day comes that we part," she said quietly, "if my last words aren't 'Amin mela lle,' you'll know it's because I didn't have time." In those moments, he remained silent, lost in thought, unable to find the words to express that his love knew no bounds of time. "Meleth e-guilen, my love is selfish. I can't breathe without you,"—she was the love of his life. How could she speak of them parting, not seeing her, not inhaling her scent in the mornings, no more afternoon conversations about books, about how Ellen had messed up her work again, no more seeing her smile, or those gentle eyes full of love for him... "Aa’ lasser en he coia orn n' omenta gurtha!"—Let the leaves of her tree of life never wither, he prayed. Just a little longer, he wasn't ready yet, but how could he stretch this time?

But when the fog enveloped the forest, and the cold wind brought with it a premonition of farewell, the elf finally spoke what was in his heart. He took her hand and said: "I was destined to live a thousand years, and I belong only to you for all those years. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want you to be mine in every one of them." She looked at him, and a tear glistened in her eye. She knew their time was running out, but these were the words she believed in more than anything in the world.

For the elf's love was as eternal as the forest itself, and he continued to love, despite their parting, carrying his feelings for her through the years and ages of his life.

"Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au’"—My heart will wait until it sees you again. "Le me ithon anuir"—I will love you forever. "Quel kaima"—Rest well.

[dee-writes-angst]

SPRING (Chapter One)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY on a mission to discuss peace negotiations with the Illyrians, you find yourself in a tricky spot without your best friend. (part two is up)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, depression, and misogyny. This one is dark, please ensure you are feeling comfortable and safe.

AUTHORS NOTE today I woke up and chose violence apparently. This fic is unbelievably long and It's been a while, so I thought I would appease you while I continue to work on the second part of the mark fic. I hope you all enjoy. <3

In the gentle embrace of spring, as nature stirred from its winter slumber, the world seemed to come alive in a symphony of sights and sounds. The air grew lively with vibrant colors of blossoming trees, their delicate leaves unfurling, whispering hope upon the wind. Each leaf and flower, each insect and animal all seeming to dance in the sunlight and bask in new chances of growth. It was truly a testament to beauty and resilience, to life.

But, amidst the beauty of renewal, there lingered a sense of sorrow, a deep heaviness that hung in the air like a dark cloud just breaching above the horizon. Spring had brough not only the promise of new beginnings, but a painful reminder for all that had been lost and forgotten. And as rain fell softly upon the earth, calling to mother nature to gift the soil with fertility, memories of pain consumed you. The gentle patter of raindrops against the earth did not serve to remind you of new beginnings, but set a somber soundtrack in your thoughts, a melancholy melody that echoed the ache you felt in your heart.

As pollen filled the air, coloring the wind and triggering allergies that left you sneezing and sniffling, you couldn't help but feel trapped within the confines of your own sorrow, isolated from the prospering world around you. Vibrant colors and sweet scents did nothing to comfort, rather building a prison of sorts, confining you to the memories of the person you once were, of the life you used to lead.

(Springtime, The Illyrian Mountains)

As you and Azriel ventured into the heart of the Illyrian steeps on a mission, the harsh terrain mirrored the cold, hardened demeanor of its inhabitants. The people of this unforgiving land, with their anger and hostility, were the only semblance of family you had ever known. Yet, their begrudging tolerance of your existence only fueled the resentment that simmered within you. How could you ever understand a people who would dare to strip you of your wings, your very essence of freedom, as a cruel display of dominance and worthlessness?

"Interesting how Rhys sends the two of us, who would sooner see the Illyrians burn, for peace negotiations," you remarked with a bitter chuckle, nudging Azriel to draw him from his thoughts. Azriel, your closest friend for three centuries, had become a steadfast companion since that fateful night when you first crossed paths with Mor at Rita's. Though the details of that encounter remained a blur, the bond forged between you and Azriel stood firm.

"Cass is stuck with Nesta. She’s been feeling off lately, she senses something stirring, but isn’t sure what. Elain shared her sentiments," Azriel grumbled, his countenance slipping into the stoic mask of the shadowsinger, overshadowing his gentle and kind-hearted nature that was generally reserved for you and the rest of your chosen family.

"So, Rhys sent the only other two Illyrians he knows. How convenient for us," you retorted, your wings instinctively folding in close as you navigated the lifeless streets of the Illyrian camp. By now, they had learned better than to challenge your presence for too long.

"Just stick close," Azriel advised, his voice tinged with caution. “There are still many men who wish to see you wingless and under their influence.”

You rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated huff but nodded in agreement. "Stubborn bastards," you muttered under your breath.

In hindsight, perhaps openly disparaging them while walking through their camp wasn't the wisest choice. But they were well aware of your disdain for them, just as you knew the depths of their animosity towards you. They had cast you out like prey when you were just a child, and you had since made it your life's mission to rise above them in every way possible. The mere thought of your superiority grated on them to no end, and you reveled in it.

Azriel chuckled softly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. He nudged you back in the side as you approached Lord Devlon’s home, the both of you sharing a sullen look of understanding before Azriel knocked.

The response was immediate, Lord Devlon swinging the door open with a scowl that mirrored Azriel's own grim expression. "I don't care that you force us to let our women keep their wings," he spat, his tone dripping with disdain, "but I will not negotiate with one. Especially her."

Azriel's growl rumbled deep in his chest, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "I don’t give a fuck about your preferences," he snapped, his voice laced with barely restrained anger.

You sighed, your wings flaring behind you in agitation as you shot a withering glare at Devlon. Barely missing Azriel's own, which mirrored your movements, his solidarity unwavering.

Turning to Azriel, you spoke with a sense of resignation. "Go on. I'll catch up with Emerie and a few others."

Though reluctant to part ways, Azriel relented, “Fine,” he growled, knocking his forehead gently against yours. It was a gesture you both shared, a silent reassurance that you were never truly alone in the face of adversity. With a nod of encouragement, you turned and walked off Devlon’s steps, making your way back into town to seek solace in the company of the only Illyrian, aside from your bat boys, whom you found more than tolerable.

After sharing a drink with Emerie and catching up for a few hours, you felt a tug of responsibility urging you to check in on Devlon and Azriel. Yet, deep down, a part of you secretly hoped that Azriel had taken matters into his own hands and dealt with the pompous leader once and for all, though you dared not voice such thoughts aloud.

As you stepped outside, the tranquility of spring in the mountains enveloped you like a comforting embrace. The harsh winds of winter had given way to a gentle, cool breeze that whispered through the trees, carrying with it the promise of warmer days ahead. It was a peaceful scene, if one could ignore the harsh realities of life in this unforgiving land, and the unspeakable horrors inflicted upon its women.

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the crisp, cool air, a stark contrast to the warmer weather of Velaris. But before you could fully immerse yourself in the tranquility of the moment, they struck.

It happened so quickly, the ambush catching you off guard. Before you could react, a blow to the back of your head sent you reeling, darkness descending upon you like a heavy shroud. In the blink of an eye, consciousness slipped away, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless against the unknown assailants. If you had had the chance to process the situation, perhaps embarrassment would have crept in at being caught off guard so easily. But the darkness of unconsciousness claimed you swiftly, dragging you down into its depths before you could even muster a response.

"Wake up, whore," a voice hissed in your ear, jolting you from the haze of unconsciousness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of your surroundings, the harshness of the voice sending a shiver down your spine. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped you, you felt a heavy weight pressing down upon your head—a bag, thick and suffocating, that obscured your vision and when you moved—thrashed— against the seat you were in, you quickly realized that you were bound.

Shit.

The bag over your head muffled your senses, leaving you completely disoriented and vulnerable to your captors. Panic surged through you at this revelation, causing a sudden spark of energy to send you thrashing against your restraints, deep realization sinking in your stomach with sickening dread.

The voice that had startled you awake, one that sounded awfully familiar, chuckled darkly, a deep, cruel sound that sent shivers cascading down your spine. “No need to struggle, sweetheart,” he mocked, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart hammered against your chest as you strained to make sense of your surroundings, to recognize even the slightest detail, but all you could make out was the stench of damp earth and mildew. Fear clawed its way down your throat, leaving deep gauges as you tried to keep your composure, to get out of this place, this nightmare, before it was too late.

“Where am I?” You growled, your voice heavy with defiance as you demanded your location, only a slight lilt of fear made its way past your throat.

“You're not the one making demands here,” he sneered, tone dripping with pure malice. He must have been an Illyrian. No one else would have the gall to try something like this, either too afraid of you, or too afraid of Azriel’s wrath. Just the thought of him filled you with a desperate longing, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you.

As you struggled to piece together your next move, the sound of footsteps approached, echoing ominously in the darkness. You braced yourself for what was to come, steeling your resolve to survive whatever horrors awaited you.

The bag was roughly pulled from your head, and you blinked against the sudden onslaught of light, squinting to make out the figure before you. As your vision cleared, you found yourself face to face with your captor, Lyris, who you used to train with as a kid, his eyes cold and calculating as he loomed over you with a wicked grin.

As the realization of your fate settled like a heavy stone in your chest, Lyris approached, his steps deliberate and purposeful. He wielded a gleaming dagger in his hand, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the chamber. Your heart hammered in your chest as fear gripped you like a vice, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to flee, but the chains binding you rendered you helpless.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris loomed over you, his eyes alight with sadistic delight. "Time to finally take what's mine, what those bastard whoresons took from me so many years ago," he sneered, the dagger poised menacingly in his grasp.

Your breath caught in your throat as the blade descended, slicing through the air with a sickening sound that made your blood run cold. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the searing pain that was sure to follow.

The first cut came swift and merciless, a sharp agony tearing through your being as the blade bit into your flesh. A strangled cry tore from your lips, the sound echoing off the walls of the chamber as your world exploded into a whirlwind of pain and terror.

“Look at these pretty wings,” Lyris hummed, his voice filled with the rasp of adrenaline. “I cannot wait to hang them on the wall of our home. To keep you quiet, pliant, and filled with my children; as you should have been from the start.” His voice, one you used to cherish, one that reminded you of the little boy who would sneak away to help you, to train you against the backs of his mentors, was now torture.

But the torment did not end there. With ruthless precision, Lyris continued to wield his blade, each stroke bringing fresh waves of agony that threatened to consume you whole. You writhed and thrashed against your restraints; your cries of anguish lost in the darkness of the chamber. Through tear-blurred vision, you caught a glimpse of your wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, now mangled, bloodied and broken beyond recognition. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you watched helplessly, the realization of your loss hitting you like a physical blow.

And as the last remnants of your wings fell away, severed and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh, a hollow emptiness settled in the pit of your stomach. You were no longer whole, no longer the person you once were. You had been robbed of your identity, your essence, and in their place remained only the cruel scars of your torment.

In the oppressive darkness of your captivity, each passing moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of your mutilation a relentless burden threatening to crush not just your body, but your very spirit. Bound and helpless, you lay upon the cold stone floor, every breath a labored struggle against the suffocating silence that surrounded you. The air itself felt heavy with despair, pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for air, for relief, for any semblance of hope.

Your limbs, once strong and nimble, now felt heavy and leaden, shackled by chains that dug into your flesh with cruel insistence, leaving angry welts in their wake. Each movement sent a jolt of searing pain shooting through your battered body, a constant reminder of the brutality you had endured.

Amidst the shadows that danced like malevolent phantoms in the night, a soft rustle of wings broke through the oppressive stillness, the whisper of shadows weaving through the air like an ancient, mournful melody. Your heart surged in your chest as a familiar presence enveloped the room, a warmth that banished the icy chill that had settled deep within your bones, offering a glimmer of solace in the midst of the suffocating darkness.

Azriel.

With a grace honed by centuries of training, Azriel moved with silent determination, his movements a symphony of lethal precision and raw emotion. Each step he took seemed to reverberate through the chamber, echoing the pounding of your heart as he closed in on your captors, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that bordered on desperation.

The sound of steel meeting flesh rang out like a mournful dirge, punctuated by the anguished cries of your assailants as they fell before Azriel's relentless onslaught, their tormentors becoming the tormented. The room erupted into chaos, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat as Azriel moved with a fluidity that bordered on otherworldly, his wings unfurling like a dark, protective cloak as he danced amidst the shadows. It was a sight to behold, a dance of death performed with a grace and precision that belied the brutality of its execution, a testament to the depth of his devotion and the strength of his love.

Through the haze of pain and fear, a surge of gratitude washed over you, a profound sense of relief that threatened to overwhelm your senses. As Azriel approached, his hand outstretched in silent invitation, you reached out to him, your fingers trembling with exhaustion and relief, your heart overflowing with a love and gratitude that defied words. In that moment, as his steady presence enveloped you, you knew that you were not alone in the darkness.

“Gods, what did they do to you,” Azriel breathed, his own hands shaking as he helped you to your feet, the weight of your brokenness heavy in his arms. You swayed unsteadily, a marionette with severed strings, before collapsing against him, the pain of your loss too great to bear alone.

“Did-” You are cut off by a hiss of pain, the sharp intake of breath a dagger through your chest. You took a moment to collect yourself, the darkness at the edges of your vision threatening to engulf you. Azriel, a bastion of strength in the storm, gently guided you to the cold stone floor, his touch a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. “Did you kill him?” you managed to choke out, the words heavy with desperation and fear, each syllable a struggle against the encroaching oblivion.

“Who?” Azriel's voice was a low rumble, his grip on your hand grounding you in the present moment, a beacon of stability amidst the chaos that threatened to consume you both. Outside the confines of your enclosure, the sounds of chaos echoed in the air, a symphony of violence and retribution made in your honor.

“Lyris. Did you kill him?” Your voice wavered, the weight of your words a burden too heavy to bear alone. You felt lightheaded, the loss of blood draining your strength with each passing moment.

“Lyris? He was here?” Azirel's growl reverberated in the cavernous space, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. He was the only one you confided in about your history with the Illyrian male, the scars of your past laid bare before him.

You sniffled and sobbed, the floodgates of grief finally breaking as you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of your wings in the safety of Azriel’s presence. His arms wrapped around you, a shield against the storm raging within you, offering solace in the face of unspeakable loss.

“My wings?” you asked through sobs, the words a whisper against the backdrop of your anguish.

“Not here.” He whispered mournfully, his voice a lament for all that had been taken from you. You felt yourself deflate further, the realization settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. Your once friend, now tormentor, had escaped with the remnants of your shattered dreams, leaving you broken and bereft in his wake.

In the aftermath of your rescue, the pain that gnawed at your soul was not just physical but a deep, unrelenting ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of your being. With each labored breath, you felt the absence of your wings like a gaping wound, a constant reminder of the brutality inflicted upon you.

As Azriel guided you through the darkness, his presence a flickering candle in the void, you stumbled and faltered, your body racked with tremors of agony. Each step sent shards of pain shooting through your mutilated form, a relentless onslaught that threatened to consume you whole.

The absence of your wings was not just a physical loss but a spiritual one, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. Once a symbol of freedom and strength, they were now nothing more than cruel stumps, a mockery of what once was. With each beat of your heart, the pain pulsed like a funeral dirge, a haunting melody that echoed through the caverns of your soul. You longed to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but the darkness of your despair swallowed your cries before they could escape your lips.

And through it all, Azriel remained by your side, his presence a silent witness to your suffering. But even his steady presence could not chase away the shadows that threatened to consume you, leaving you adrift in a sea of despair.

As you emerged into the cool embrace of freedom, blinking against the harsh light of day, you felt a sense of emptiness wash over you—a hollow void that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The road ahead loomed dark and uncertain, a twisting labyrinth of pain and sorrow that threatened to swallow you whole.

[NEXT]

[lavieverdezoro]

"Please"

Sanji × Reader // female reader, nsfw - overstimulation (f!receiving), blood (Sanji nosebleeding), praising

You never know how you managed to get in such a situation such as Sanji eating you out relentlessly.

Sanji is a man who will automatically do what a woman tells him to. He's a womanizer, he treats each woman he sees as a goddess and expects nothing in return.

You've been noticing how the blonde was paying more attention on you. That thought surprised you but you couldn't help but feel a bit flattered. You've always liked his attention despite him being perverted, you found the special cook attractive on the way he treats you like no other man with such love, passion and care.

Sanji had been paying more attention to you because you give him attention he deeply needed and craved, he has been soaking up every attention you give him.

Whether it be a single glance or a simple greeting-he goes weak to his knees. You make him fidgety and bothered with thoughts. You fill him up with the sweetest of sins that lights up a fire deep within him.

He'd feel really guilty for thinking of such thoughts but he couldn't help himself, he's touch deprived but hates asking for it or anything in general. He does things for people without expecting anything in return. His kindness is what makes him the strongest but also the weakest.

Sanii was down bad and desperate. Despite that he's a hopeless romantic, he doesn't fully understand what love is. What love meant to him is him giving what people want even if it ends up hurting him in the process.

He was soaking up every bit of your attention, he'd do anything for you. He'd topple down empires for you, run around the whole earth for you, slash the moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to plead or even beg him for anything?

Sanji felt like he was in heaven when he got to eat you out relentlessly, he couldn't stop himself. He ate you out so many times to the point where you lost count.

Mmh. y/n~ my love, you taste so divine. I can't help it, let me do another round." He spoke into your clit, his nose bleeding whilst his wet muscle shove itself it and out of your pussy. His eye absorbing and taking in every bit of your sweet expressions you make as he ate you out. The sight of your body twitching and the sound of your moans leaving past your lips shakily made him so fucking good.

It felt like you were his only purpose now. He buried his hips to the mattress with his growing erection, a groan leaving his throat and into your pussy which made a pleasurable shiver run up your spine.

His slim and slender hands gently grip on your thighs, pushing them more wider just so he could feast on you again. He couldn't help himself, he's eating you out like as it he hadn't eaten in days. His tounge would pull out, savoring and licking your wet folds as his hand sneaked up to enter two digits into your needy entrance.

"You're so beautiful, y/n... You truly make me feel like in heaven." At this point, Sanji was slurring out words of praises into your clit, the vibration making you shake and grip on the sheets more. You were helpless under his heavenly care, his tounge just felt so, so good. You couldn't help but squeeze your thighs around his head as you reach your peak-your juices went all over Sanji's face and mouth and he lapped it all up as if it's his only source of food.

"Y/n.." He'd mutter, his pupil now in the shape of a heart as he grinded his erection more against the mattress. It wasn't long until he came and released himself in his pants accidentally while he was grinding on the mattress.

Sanji went to his knees in between your legs as you pant heavily from reaching your high. You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling as his hardened cock sprung free, some cum already leaking from his accidental orgasm. He leaned down, kissing your neck lovingly as he whispered in such a desperate tone.

"please, let me love you more."

©lavieverdezoro blog

[mxtxfanatic]

Lan Sizhui and His Wei-qianbei

Of all the juniors, Lan Sizhui has the closest connection to Wei Wuxian that is actually kept secret until almost the end of the novel. But even when both characters are unaware of their shared history, Lan Sizhui still unconsciously gravitates towards his former A-Die/Xian-gege as a source of comfort and safety:

“Don’t be afraid,” Wei Wuxian said again. “I’m not afraid,” [Lan Sizhui] replied. “Truly?” “Truly.” Lan Sizhui even smiled. “Mo-qianbei, you and Hanguang Jun are really similar.” “Similar?” Wei Wuxian said with surprise. “How are we similar?” He and Lan Wangji were clearly as different as the heavens and the Earth. But Lan Sizhui just smiled, said nothing, and led the remaining people outside. I don’t know either, he thought silently. But you two just feel similar. It feels as though as long as one of you is present, I don’t need to be scared of anything.

—Chapt. 37: Flora V, fanyiyi

The disciples that he had let free could neither run nor stay. On the inside there were the YiLing Patriarch, the Ghost General, and the traitor of the righteous side HanGuang-Jun, while on the outside there were countless walking corpses waiting to be fed. Yet, everything was bright on Lan SiZhui’s side, “Senior Mo... Senior Wei. Are you here to save us? You were not the one who got people to take us here, were you?” Although it was a question, his face was full of complete trust and delight. Wei WuXian felt his heart warm up.

—Chapt. 68: Tenderness, exr

The sight of the two men made Lan SiZhui feel as if he could face anything, no matter how dire or impossible. He gladly responded, “HanGuang-Jun! Senior-Wei! Please hurry over!”

—Chapt. 83: Core Part 5, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

He even goes so far as to question what the juniors have been taught about Wei Wuxian even before he knows that their "Mo-qianbei" is actually the loathsome Yiling Patriarch or that he was once raised by him:

They heard Lan Jingyi interject. “Why are you so angry?” the boy blurted out. “It’s not like Sizhui said Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have been killed. He only said that it’s possible not everyone who practices demonic cultivation is like Xue Yang. Is it necessary to fling things everywhere? I haven’t had a chance to taste that yet...” Jin Ling sneered. “Didn’t he also say ‘the inventor of those methods didn’t necessarily want to use them for evil?’ Who was ‘the inventor of those methods?’ Tell me, who else could it be but Wei Ying! I don’t understand. Isn’t your Gusu Lan Clan also a prominent cultivation clan? Didn’t a lot of your people die at Wei Ying’s hand too? Wasn’t it a headache killing all the walking corpses and all his other scummy followers? Why are you taking such a strange position, Lan Yuan? Based on what you said just then, aren’t you trying to let Wei Ying off the hook?!” Lan Yuan was Lan Sizhui’s birth name. “I’m not trying to let him off the hook at all,” he explained. “I only wanted to propose that, since we don’t know exactly what the circumstances were, we shouldn’t draw any definite conclusions. Before we went to Yi City, didn’t a lot of people claim that Xiao Xingchen Daozhang killed the Yueyang Chang Clan’s Chang Ping in angry vengeance? And how did it turn out in reality?”

—Chapt. 43: Beauty I, fanyiyi

No matter what separated them—be it death, amnesia, or clan disapproval—Lan Sizhui has never truly forgotten the love he feels for the A-Die/Xian-gege of his childhood.

At least, Lan SiZhui couldn’t hold it any longer. With a loud cry, he leaped up. One hand around Wei WuXian and the other around Lan WangJi, he pulled the two into a tight embrace. Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi bumped into each other from the hug. Both of them were surprised. Lan SiZhui buried his head between their shoulders, “HanGuang-Jun, Senior Wei, I... I...” Hearing his muffled voice, Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi exchanged a look, only inches apart. They both saw something soft within each other’s eyes. Wei WuXian fixed his mood and put his hand on Lan SiZhui’s back, patting, “Enough, what are you crying for?” Lan SiZhui, “Not crying... Just... I suddenly feel so frustrated, but so happy as well... I do not know how to describe it...” After some silence, Lan WangJi laid his hand onto his back as well and patted. Lan WangJi, “There is no need to describe it then.” Wei WuXian, “That’s right.” Lan SiZhui didn’t say anything. He hugged them even tighter.

—Chapt. 111: Wangxian, exr

[jeonscatalyst]

I read this from the cult arguments so the reason why they think jikook using Buddy program for enlisting confirms them not being couples is because in south korean military service as you might already know they prohibit the gay sexual intercourse while ON BASE and if you do you face the consequences right? So according to them now that jikook are using the Buddy program by chance IF in future they come out as queer and start dating each other the government is likely to investigate them for using the Buddy program for their advantage, or say they can get investigated for falsification and breaking the law of gay relationship n all during military service and given BTS are Big deal even if jikook come out after many years they will still likely face very serious consequences for breaking the law cause you know how sk is when it comes to BTS like e.g. suga's recent incidents.

So does anyone have a better understanding of this whole act of gay se* + military service and the consequences you face like this law as whole?

Hey anon,

I made this post a while ago about this topic. You can check it out

I’m not sure if you are the same anon who sent this link of this taekooker trying to “prove” why two people in a romantic relationship cannot enlist together but this is the link���….

My thoughts about enlistment and how it works can be found in the post I linked but just to something about what these screenshots say….

This right here is what I like to call manipulation. This person has a very good knowledge of the system and what article 92-6 actually states but they use their own words to completely twist things. I’m not a lawyer but i’ve watched enough shows to know that people have gotten away with murder or heinous crimes because of loopholes in the written law so I’m pretty sure who ever drafted out military laws must know this so they must have EXPLICITLY written down everything that they didn’t want to avoid any loopholes.

Anon, I’d like you to check out what article 92-6 states and show me anywhere that law criminalizes two people being in a relationship. Is there any place the law talks about punishing two people just because they are gay and are in a relationship? I must have missed it so maybe you can show me if you find it.

This is such a simple thing to understand so I truly don’t get why so many people choose to ignore it.

The military doesn’t criminalize people being in a relationship (atleast not officially) they only have a problem with people committing indecent sexual activity on base. So why on earth would there be consequences if Jimin and Jungkook leave the military and decide to come out at some point later? As long as they didn’t break the law by having anal sex or engaging in anything the law considers indecent sexual activity, they are good. Is there any law that states that two lovers cannot enlist together as buddies? There is literally NONE! Also, this makes no sense because not everyone who in romantic relationships have sex (surprise surprise) and seeing as the military has only mentioned having an issue with sex while on base, then why would they go after people who didn’t commit a crime?

If the South Korean military didn’t want two lovers enlisting together as buddies, they would have boldly written it down. Yes, queer people face some injustice and discrimination in the military and sometimes are deemed unfit for service because of their sexual orientation which is unfortunate and sad but the truth is, Jimin and Jungkook have never come as as queer have they? So officially they are just two normal bandmates and friends who decided to enlist together and even if they do come out later, the military would have to prove that they were a couple while enlisted if they want to have an issue with it (which I doubt they would) and we all know that they wouldn’t be able to prove that Jikook were a couple at the time of enlistment unless they got caught having sex, because guess what, it is possible that they could have only become a couple after their military service. So you see how the whole thing doesn’t even make sense right. If you want to consider that the military might try to punish people for being a couple while enlisted, then there are just too many loopholes in the law. I am not even a lawyer but I can make a very good defense case for anyone whom the military tries to prosecute for this using their own written laws.

[jaehyunsprincesspeach]

Dating WayV feels like…

Kun

secure

secure like a comforting hug after a long day. like coming home knowing that you are in a safe space. secure knowing that there is not any room for judgement. secure knowing that there is room for nothing but love and adoration in your relationship. secure knowing that you always have someone there to cheer you on. like knowing that he truly would do anything for you, anything to make you happy. secure like a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through a sea of people. secure knowing that there will always be someone there to support you through everything.

Ten

familiar

familiar like you two have known each other forever. familiar like the smell of your favorite foods from your childhood that he ordered for you after a hard day. familiar like the sensation of laughing too hard with your best friend. familiar like your favorite candle burning as the two of you watch a movie together. familiar like coming home to open arms, and a loving smile. familiar like lazy days spend together talking about anything and everything, taking every opportunity the two of you have to learn all that you can about each other. familiar like the love you have desired for your entire life, finally coming to life.

Winwin

gentle

gentle like sweet forehead kisses for no reason in particular. gentle like him tracing your hand absent mindlessly, while deep in conversation. gentle like the sound of a rain shower against the window, as the two of you share a blanket, in each others warm embrace. gentle like the snowfall getting caught in your hair, as he looks at you as if you are the most beautiful creation on this earth. gentle as he realized he loves you, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, watching you dance around to the music that's playing. gentle as he cups your cheeks and looks deep into your eyes, knowing that he would do anything for you.

Xiaojun

comfort

comfort like the smell of fresh cookies baking in the oven. comfort like watching the stars in each others embrace, listening to the rhythm if his heart beat. comfort like coming home to him trying to cook your favorite meal, but failing. comfort like laughing together. like enjoying a movie together as he grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him. comfort like knowing that he will never judge you, and him knowing that you would never judge him. comfort like knowing you have found a best friend and lover within the same person.

Hendery

lighthearted

lighthearted like spontaneous dates with no particular plan in mind. lighthearted like laughing together about anything and everything. lighthearted as he grabs your hand to drag you to the next destination, so that he makes sure he won't lose you. lighthearted like throwing a random dance party for just the two of you. even dancing around in public without a care in the world. lighthearted as even in public, it seems like it is simply only the two of you in the entire world. lighthearted like kisses all over your face, as he listens to you giggle, his most favorite sound in the world. lighthearted when he realizes he loves you after the two of you embarrass yourselves in public, and simply laugh together without a care in the world.

Yangyang

exciting

exciting like running into each others embrace after he returns from tour. exciting like waking up with a full day of different activities planned. excited like the first date, when the butterflies are fluttering, and the nerves are increasing. exciting like riding a roller coaster. exciting like never knowing what the day with him will hold, as he always keeps you on your toes. exciting like enjoying each others embrace, knowing how each other feels, simply by your beating hearts. exciting like knowing you have found the love you have always dreamed of. exciting like knowing that there is no another person who could understand you the way he does. exciting like the first true love you find, and knowing it will be the last as well.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 20: All The Little Things 

Summary: Arthur takes note of all the little things you do for him and tries to decide if he’s ready to take your relationship to the next level. 

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW - This one is a bit longer than I planned, sorry!

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*This beautiful images comes from the always stunning @foundynnel

*Beta-read by the wonderfully supportive @readingcoco (Thank you for herding in my thoughts, my friend!)

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*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Arthur proclaimed your affections for each other and you have quickly settled into a comfortable routine. With Arthur being a senior member of the gang, and with you as his woman, you feel that you need to step up and contribute more to the Van Der Linde Gang. And Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw couldn’t be more thrilled. 

The gang must always come first - that is what Arthur has instilled in you and it’s what you have come to adopt as your own adage too. You feel that same sense of belonging and responsibility for these people and finally begin to truly understand Arthur’s unrelenting loyalty to them. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and as long as the gang does well, the people within it will prosper. 

You are quickly becoming more embedded into this rag-tag group than you had ever thought you would. It’s not just a group of random individuals or a place for you to hide for safety, they are your family now, just as they are Arthur’s. These are the people who comfort you when you need it, and protect you as one of their own. They laugh with you; they yell and stomp angrily with you. You affectionately think of them and pick-up little gifts that will make their day, and you are rewarded with their love and appreciation in return. This is what Arthur is devoutly devoted to, this sense of belonging. For this is much more than a gang of lawbreakers. These people chose each other, which is a bond tighter than most blood relatives. 

The sun is just climbing into its zenith in the autumn sky, desperately trying to break its radiant beams through the gray, overcast clouds to shine down upon the earth below. You and Tilly rumble into camp on a wagon, having just come back from town with a load full of supplies. Mr. Pearson greets you as the old wooden vehicle creaks to a halt. He waddles over and peers his chubby face over the side. The cook is thrilled, seeing an extra crate of potatoes, two more tins of lard and a sack of grain more than he expected you to return with. 

“I guess battin’ those eyelashes of yours at the store owner goes a lot further than I thought,” the portly man teases you as he grabs some of the items from the back of the wagon. 

You beam back at him with a smile of pride as you hike up your skirt into your hand and climb down from the wagon seat. “What is it they say? ‘Catch more flies with honey than vinegar?’”, you hum.

“Well, don’t be surprised if I start sending you out more often, then. We’ll probably get further along with your pretty face than mine.” Pearson’s round figure vibrates slightly with the laughter of his own joke.

“Just let me know what you need, I’ll be happy to help.” Suddenly you halt dead in your tracks, realizing that you’ve just repeated one of Arthur’s sayings. Tilly is right:  you and Arthur are already starting to act like an old married couple. The phrase causes you to shake your head before moving back to the wagon to grab more of the items to unpack.

You pick up one of the smaller boxes and turn to head over to the tables where the men lazily sit about, discussing random topics and enjoying a brief moment of peace and quiet. Arthur and Hosea sit, each relaxing with a cigarette in hand, listening to Dutch carry on about something that he's read recently. He’s been obsessed with “An American Eden” by Evelyn Miller lately and takes it upon himself to “preach its teachings”, as it were, to whomever is within the sound of his voice to hear it. The small group of men currently around him are not what you’d call “high-brow” and his philosophy lessons tends to fall on deaf ears sometimes. 

“Hello, boys!” you sing as you saunter over, being met with a collection of head-nods and grins of acknowledgement.

As you grab their attention, you proceed to hand-out a few thoughtful extras that you pilfered in town. You toss a package of new guitar strings to Javier who snatches them out of the air with one of his nimble hands. 

“Gracias, mi amor!” he beams happily as he examines the small bundle in his hands. “Where did you come across these?”

“Don’t you worry about it. I have my ways,” you smirk with an accompanying wink.

You reach over to hand a new book to Hosea with a smile, and offer a premium cigar to Dutch, who gratefully accepts your gift with appreciative eyes. Placing the empty box on the table, you look over at Arthur. “Oh, and by the way, Arthur, I think I saw that jack-rabbit you’re chasing in town today.”

Arthur’s head perks up right away. “The Petersen bounty?”

“Yeah. He was over by the brothel. By the looks of it, he’ll be holed up there for a while,” you say nonchalantly as you pull an apple out of your skirt pocket and rub its red skin against your sleeve before biting into the crisp, juicy fruit. 

“Well shit, why are you just telling me this now?” Arthur huffs impatiently as he quickly gets up and starts moving towards the horses.

“Like I said, he’s in no hurry.” You shrug. “Do I get a finder’s fee for my part?” you call after him with a grin as you watch him pull Buck from the hitching posts. 

Arthur just waves you off as he slides his dusty boot into the stirrup and hastily slings up into Buck’s saddle, taking off for town. 

—---------------------------------------------------

The flames of the evening’s campfire pop and crackle softly as they roll and crawl over the slightly damp wood. The aroma of heady oak permeates the air and the smoky plumes rise and dance up towards the night sky. You and Arthur sit alone on the ground by the fire, leaning back against a log with a blanket wrapped over your legs. The night is quiet as the stars sparkle overhead. Most people are playing cards at one of the tables, or have drifted off to their tents for the evening. 

The fire offers its warmth and golden glow, creating a soft ambiance. Arthur pulls you in for a gentle, absentminded kiss, and you find yourselves wholly content with each other, forgetting that the rest of the world exists as lovers often do. Your lips run languidly, with no urgency or demand as if working of their own accord. You start to gently rake your fingers across Arthur’s chest, slowly flexing to curl around the worn fabric of his faded brown shirt and occasionally reaching up to caress along his neck and chin. The feeling of his skin radiates through your fingertips and down into the palm of your soft hand. Eyes rolling shut, you smile into his mouth in blissful happiness as his arms lovingly and protectively envelop you. 

Arthur’s strong hand sits on your hip, lightly grasping at the supple flesh hidden under the fabric of your skirt. He loves the feeling of your skin on his, it doesn’t matter what the scenario is. Whether it’s his fingers grazing yours when he hands you a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, or when his hips are pounding into yours in the throws of passion, or even just as it is now when the softest of kisses land upon his chapped lips: the feeling of you against him is like electricity pulsing throughout his entire body, bringing him to life, just like that weird story by Mary Shelley that you read to him.  

It’s a rare thing for the two of you to be left alone in camp like this. Usually you have to hide away if you want any sort of privacy. But truth be told, the rest of the gang is respectfully giving the two of you some space. It’s nice not having a bitter and angry Arthur around all of the time. Ever since you publicly claimed him in the middle of camp as yours, he hasn’t been as snarky or barking at people like he usually does. And of course, people will do anything for you. The demands of daytime chores and responsibilities are one thing, but the calm evenings are left for you two. Sure, not every night is as peaceful as this, so you revel in the rare moment of solitude when the two of you can get it. 

Arthur’s lips eventually part from yours to leave a trail of delicate kisses under your jaw and down your neck, hitting that favorite spot of his. The place behind your ear is where the softest skin he has found on your body is hidden. That spot always tastes so heavenly to him and draws that little breathless noise from you that drives him wild. 

Arthur’s nose buries into your hair, picking up the floral notes of the soap you use to wash it with. You giggle and nuzzle him as your hands come up to cradle his head, your fingers entwined into the locks of his hair, hugging him to you as your nose wrinkles in merriment when his beard stubble delightfully tickles your sensitive skin. 

And suddenly, as you roll your body closer into his, before you can even think twice about it, the words just float from your lips like a dandelion seed being carried on a summer breeze. 

“I love you, Arthur.” Your voice is a breathless sigh of utter contentment, a melody singing through the air.

You haven’t seen his face yet, but feel his movements halt as his whole body goes rigid against you. Arthur slowly pulls his face from your neck and looks at you, speechless, with shocked and confused eyes, face flushed a shade of scarlet to rival the fire in front of you.

But you quickly place your fingers over his lips as if to hush any sort of protest he may have. “Now before you go crazy, Arthur, you don’t have to say it back. I simply said it because I wanted to, because it felt right just now.” You give him a soft and reassuring smile, amused by his reaction as he continues to stare at you, blinking quietly. You can tell he wants to say something in return, but can’t find the words as his mouth begins to work, but no sound comes out. 

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you giggle. “Really. I didn’t tell you that to hear it back. I just wanted to make sure you know it. And you can say it if, and when, you’re ready.”

You pause to give him a moment to answer, to make sure he understands that you have no demand of him, but you can see that he is still troubled and finding it hard to articulate what he needs to say. You honestly do not need him to say it back to you. How he treats you is how he feels about you, regardless of words stated or not. Words are used to manipulate people. His actions show you everything you need to know. So thankfully, you put him out of his misery by leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth as he continues to look at you dumbstruck.

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Arthur.” You pat his cheek affectionately as a look of empathy sits upon your face. “I don’t need you having a heart attack over it. Like I said, you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know where my heart lies.” 

Arthur’s forehead creases as he watches you stand up, brushing the dried leaves out of your skirt before reaching down for your blanket. You bend over to catch his scarred chin in your fingertips. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper and kiss him again. You give him an impish little grin before heading over to your tent for the night. 

You leave Arthur still sitting speechless on the ground, a troubled look settled upon his handsome face as he watches your lovely form fade into the darkness of night before disappearing from view altogether as you close your tent. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

In the days that follow, Dutch announces that he is going to move the camp again. You are all sitting around the fire when he proceeds with an impassioned speech about moving south just outside of a town called Blackwater. 

You watch Dutch as he presents himself to the group, noting how he carries himself in front of others. He is charismatic and passionate, a natural-born leader. Since you have known the dark-haired devil, he has always had a dramatic and commanding presence, drawing his people to him with his idealism and wit. 

You find it amusing how Dutch’s boldness and optimism is a perfect compliment to Hosea’s skeptical wisdom. The two of them together make quite the dynamic duo, two sides of the same coin. Sometimes you wonder at the true nature of their relationship. Are they “brothers”, just as Arthur and John are, or is there more there, smoldering under the surface like hot coals left after a raging fire has burned down? Both men had their lady-loves in their lives, and both were left devastated when these sparks of light were extinguished in their otherwise dark lives. But you can’t help but wonder if there was ever more to Dutch and Hosea’s relationship than meets the eye. The “curious couple and their unruly sons.” The very idea of it makes you regard them with a softer spot in your heart.

The gang is preparing to go to work and the new location has some hot tips emanating from it. The camp is abuzz with packing and planning with everyone sprinting about and working on their assigned tasks. Arthur and Hosea are discussing a real estate tip around West Elizabeth, while Micah and Dutch have their own plan…something about a ferry boat. 

Arthur and Hosea wander to sit at one of the campfires, away from distractions, and are busy discussing their tip and planning for the new move when Hosea casually asks Arthur about you.

“So…how’s things going with (Y/N)?” He gives Arthur a sly smile with that twinkle in his eye. Hosea has been silently observing the budding courtship from the beginning, carefully watching for any signs of discord that would need to be nipped in the bud before trouble brews. 

A slight pink dusts Arthur’s face at the older man’s inquiry, visible even under his week-old beard. A sheepish little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he purses his lips in thought. 

“Have you ever wanted to listen to every word someone says, even about the smallest thing in the world just so you can see their face light up and hear their voice?” 

Hosea gives a light-hearted chuckle as he brings his cigarette to his wrinkled lips. “Yeah, that girl broke down those walls of yours without you even noticing she was doin’ it, didn’t she?”

But the smile slowly drips from Arthur’s face as a dark cloud settles over his features. A deep and sad sigh pushes its way from his broad chest under his worn beige jacket. His eyes relax their focus and stray to look out over the camp as he absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip. Hosea notices the change in mood and immediately fears the worst. 

“Ah, shit, what did you do?” accuses the old man in disappointment.

“Nothing!” Arthur counters defensively as his face snaps back to Hosea’s attention. But he is met with the clever fox’s skeptical scowl. Arthur hesitates to share what’s on his mind, afraid that once he verbalizes the phrase again, it will become all too real. 

“She…she told me that she loves me,” Arthur admits quietly, before letting his gaze float to the worn leather of his boots, his toe poking at the grass.

Like a switch has been pulled, Hosea’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Well, that’s great news, my boy!” He claps Arthur on the shoulder in congratulations. “Although I could’ve told you that after the first week she was here with us.” But when Arthur doesn't return his friend’s enthusiasm, Hosea’s smile quickly turns down again in confusion, eying him up cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“What, are you tellin’ me that you don’t love her?” Hosea asks incredulously, his face drawing up in disbelief. 

“No, I wasn’t sayin’ that at all,” pouts Arthur. “‘Cause I do,” he says with a slight, yet definitive nod. The man fidgets slightly, his hands suddenly sweaty and shaky as he finally admits outloud what he’s known internally for awhile. A short, yet sharp exhale escapes him, as the statement is now out there, exposing his fragile heart for the first time in a long while. 

“Well, then I fail to see the problem,” presses Hosea with a flippant wave of his hand in exasperation.

Arthur fidgets with the cigarette in his fingers, slowly rolling it between his thumb and index finger. “What if she realizes that she doesn’t? Love me, I mean?” He catches Hosea’s eye. “What if she wakes up one mornin’ and decides she don’t want me no more?” He turns his gaze outward, focusing on nothing again. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Arthur cringes when he hears his own voice whining about being loved, bitching about the same thing he said to Marston a few weeks ago. Yes, it’s sooo horrible to have a wonderful woman love me. He thinks sarcastically. God, I’m pathetic.

“I suppose I see your point.” Hosea nods his head in understanding, as Arthur’s worry becomes all too clear. “So what if she does one day? Hmm?” The old man waves his hand dismissively in the air. “But, what if it turns out that (Y/N) wants to be with you forever?” Hosea squints at Arthur. “Don't you think she’s worth the gamble?”

Arthur turns his pained eyes back to his old friend. “I can’t go through that again, Hosea. I just…I can’t do it.” He leans out on his elbows onto his thighs, head swimming with ever-present self-doubt, coupled with the desperate yearning for the love and acceptance he’s craved since he was a child. 

“Arthur, if (Y/N) tells you she loves you, you better believe her.” Hosea points his weathered, crooked finger at Arthur, poking him in the chest. “Don’t be afraid to start over. You may like your new story better this time around. (Y/N) ain’t like that other one,” he grumbles, his jaw clenching slightly without even needing to mention Mary by name. 

“No, I suppose you’re right. She surely ain’t.” Arthur sits quietly for a moment, mulling over Hosea’s words. Hosea always has a way of getting him to see reason, always had since Arthur was a kid. Hosea could quiet his mind with just the simplest words. Arthur takes another deep drag of his cigarette before that roguish little grin pops up again. “You know…if I somehow manage not to screw this up, Hosea…I’m gonna marry her.”

The admission makes the old man’s heart almost burst with happiness as he huffs out a laugh and pats Arthur’s shoulder again in approval. “God willing, I’ll live long enough to see that.”

The two men share a soft chuckle between them. They have been through so much together to get to this point in their lives and the idea of hope and love in the future gives them a feeling of contentment that is rare for their kind of life.

Arthur wants you, of that, there is no doubt. After Mary and Eliza, ‘love’ was just a word to Arthur, some meaningless string of letters that he’d hear from Mary-Beth as she read her silly stories. Four little characters that created an empty and almost cold feeling for him. L.O.V.E

But now, the word has taken a whole new form in you. You are his definition of desire. Arthur never knew how engulfing the flames of love could be until now, until you uttered those three simple little words to him. You are the only thing that could have brought him back to life with your hands, your lips, your soul. Arthur would journey to the ends of the earth to keep you in his life. He misses you from the moment you separate. All he knows is that nothing else makes as much sense to him as loving you. This is what it feels like to fall and not know, or care, where you land. 

You have no idea the depth of how you affect Arthur, how you calm the chaos in his head and still the tornado of thoughts that threaten his sanity. When he holds you in his arms, you become the eye of his storm, the center that is safe while the gale rages wildly around him. 

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to each other. The very presence that is felt through a hand held close, a voice heard drifting into one’s ear, or even that slightest smile that you know is only for you. Souls do not have clocks or calendars; they do not function with the idea of time or distance. Devoted souls only know it feels right once they have found each other. Like a magnet to steel, beloved hearts will always be drawn to each other with that force of nature that is undeniable. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh oh”, whispers Abigail. Her brunette head pops up as she watches with trepidation from where you both pack supplies into one of the wagons. 

You lift your head to follow her sightline and see Micah and Arthur arguing again. The two of them have been at it for the last few days as the plans to move out of the area are beginning to be set into motion. You wonder how Dutch could put his trust in two men who are so drastically different. It follows suit that Micah will run his mouth with Arthur getting a few verbal, sarcastic jabs in here and there. But it usually ends with Arthur simply towering over the much smaller man until he shrinks down into submission in fear of an iron fist landing into that filthy mouth of his. 

This latest fight seems to be in regards to the competing jobs which have been planned for once you all move down towards Blackwater. Arthur wants nothing to do with this ferry job that Micah is pushing, citing it to be reckless and overreaching. The gang has been in the law’s cross-hairs for some time now and he and Hosea both think sticking to smaller, more reliable jobs is best right now. But Micah has been pitching a more grandiose scheme, arguing that the gang needs to strike bold and quick, garnering as much money as you can so you can start to move away from the civilization that is slowly strangling the gang. Unfortunately for Arthur, Micah seems to be like an earworm, burrowing into Dutch’s brain and playing on his already inflated ego.

You and Abigail observe with baited breath to see how far this current argument will go. But it appears Micah is not backing down this time, continuing to push Arthur to the limits of his patience. Suddenly, in a bold move of newfound courage, Micah steps up right in Arthur’s face, almost nose to nose. The cool autumn air is sucked sharply into your lungs as you gasp and your whole body freezes in apprehension, adrenaline like a knife suddenly thrown into your belly. 

“(Y/N)…” Abigail warns, placing her hand on your forearm. But you are already ahead of her, quick to stride over to the feuding men. As you get closer, a small group begins to gather as the yelling continues to escalate. 

“I’d take a step back and reconsider myself if I were you, Micah,” John smirks with a half-hearted warning from where he sits off to the side, sharpening his knife. John knows full-well that it is only a matter of time before this gets physical, as Arthur has little patience. He has seen Arthur pummel men into a pulp for less offensive actions. But truth be told, John would love to see Micah get his ass beat by Arthur. Hell, he’d even consider paying for it. 

Arthur isn’t saying much but you can tell by the heaving of his chest and the scowl etched into his face that he’s a bomb seconds away from exploding. His broad shoulders set hard as stone as Arthur stands even straighter, towering over Micah. His large hands slowly curl into themselves, fists clenched tight like boulders at the end of his pulsing forearms.

Carefully, you approach the two men from the side, watching them closely and trying to gauge how much time you have before Arthur’s fuse burns to the end of the powder-keg. The tension in the air builds uncomfortably, causing a knot to settle in your stomach. 

“Arthur?'' You call his name softly, trying not to startle him. You tilt your head to look up into his face, trying to catch his attention, but Arthur’s icy stare is trained only on Micah. But then you notice that Micah’s hand is hovering at his side, fingers flexing over his gun in its holster. 

This has now elevated to a precarious situation that needs to be diffused quickly and delicately. You don’t understand why no one else is stepping in to break this up, but assume it’s probably to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Out of everyone in the gang, these are probably the two men that you absolutely would not want to tangle with. 

Dutch, conveniently, is not around for this show, which may be why Micah is suddenly so bold to openly challenge Arthur like this. While he likes showing off for Dutch, Micah knows he can push the envelope when the leader of the gang is not around, as if trying to insert himself into that coveted role. Over Arthur’s dead body, that is. 

When Arthur still doesn’t answer you, you inch even closer. Carefully, your arm lifts and moves fluidly across Arthur’s chest to lay your hand against his cheek. You calmly say his name again, “Arthur.” 

The simple act cuts to the outlaw instantly as he blinks out of his angry trance and turns to look at you, confused as if he hadn’t even noticed you were standing there. 

Once you catch his attention, you offer Arthur the softest of smiles, your eyes bright and sparkling, distracting him from the weasel that is his ire at the moment.

“Come with me, please.” Your request is quiet yet authoritative.

“What for?!” he snaps, the fury radiating off of him as you can feel how his whole body is flexed and rigid.

A slow and deep exhale emanates from you as you intensely hold his gaze. “Would you rather go for a walk with me..alone…by the river where it’s peaceful and quiet? Or sit here and argue with Micah Bell?” 

You can see Arthur’s mind trying to process your words, his anger and frustration wrestling with your simple logic.

 “Fine,” he barks, not really directing his venom at you.

Arthur reluctantly lets you snake your arm around his and turn him away from Micah. It’s like trying to pull a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. But Micah will not be dismissed so easily. His eyes narrow as he stares you down, just as you begin to maneuver Arthur away. 

“Oh sure, run and hide behind a skirt!" Micah teases. “Pretty damn sad, Morgan!”

“Shut your damn mouth, Micah, or I will shut it for you. Permanently!” Arthur’s voice booms through the camp as his finger points in Micah’s direction to accent his point. Arthur’s eyes lock coldly with Micah’s as he cranes his neck to shoot Micah one last heated glare before he continues to walk away with you.

“Come on, you,” you delicately chide Arthur, your arm and hands tightening around his bicep just a bit more, eager to get the two of them separated as fast as you can. 

Behind you, Micah stands pouting as the two of you walk away. A pain clicks in his chest as he watches how you handle Arthur. He sucks his lip between his jagged teeth, jaw clamping down on the tender skin. He’s irritated to no end with Arthur, but even more so, with your infatuation with the man. A pang of jealousy cuts deep into Micah as his fists clench open and closed as they still hover over his holster at his side.

“Micah’s got a point. Looks like Arthur’s gone soft on us,” Bill snarks as he stands with his thumbs hanging on his gunbelt.

“I’d like to see you tell him that to his face, Bill,” John quips. 

“Mock all you want, gentlemen,” adds Javier, waving his hand towards Micah and Bill. “But the fact of the matter is, that man is taking that woman to bed tonight.” And he points in your direction. “You two have fun all by yourselves in your tents later.”

“Shut up, Javier,” mumbles Bill. But Micah only stands in angry silence before spinning on his heels and heading off in a huff to get a whiskey bottle from one of the supply wagons to sulk.

The wind kicks up a bit, biting at your cheeks as you walk down the path out of the camp. Arthur is heatedly silent as you walk. It is little wonder to you why so many find him so intimidating and fearsome. 

Passing by the hitching posts, your gray Gypsy gets antsy, whinnying and stomping the ground in a tantrum at the possibility of being left behind. “Ugh, are you acting ornery today, too?” you huff as if scolding a child. “Alright, come on. You can come along, too.” You quickly grab Blue to follow, as he’s been pent up quite a bit lately and is itching to move about. 

You lead Arthur, with your horse in tow, as the path takes you down to the river’s edge. The soft lapping of the water against the sandy edge of the bank offers a calm and welcomed change of scenery. And it is here that you turn Arthur loose, letting him vent loudly, while you simply agree with everything he says, replying occasionally with “I know” and “I get it”. 

“Goddamn fool! Don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground!” shouts Arthur, waving his arms around.

“I know,” you reply calmly as you rub your hand along Blue’s nose and face. The horse nickers softly and nudges into you, like a cat purring in your hands as you watch Arthur pace back and forth in frustration like a wild animal in a cage. 

“And Dutch is gonna go along with it?! Just like that?” He flashes his intense blue eyes at you. 

“I know, it’s crazy,” you shake your head at him.

“Are they even thinkin’ ‘bout the rest o’ us?”

You just shrug. “I don’t get it, either,” you say calmly.

Arthur momentarily stops in his ranting and looks at you, finally taking a moment to breathe. Why you are not as heated as he is is beyond him. “Is that all you’re gonna say?” 

“Well, I figured I’d let you carry-on and wear yourself out and when it’s my turn to yell, you just point and then I’ll go.” You cross your arms over your chest and give him a little smirk. 

But Arthur’s face holds anything but amusement, as he firmly plants his hands on his hips in frustration. “I ain't in the mood for jokes, (Y/N),” he grits out slowly. 

A grin creeps its way across your face. “I bet I could get you to laugh.” 

“I doubt it,” he grumbles with a slight eye roll.

Squinting slightly in challenge with a teasing look, you walk over to him, placing your hands on his ribs before letting them slowly drift down to his waist. He raises an eyebrow at you but is quickly disappointed when your hands divert from his waistline to reach into his satchel and dig around until you pull out his leather gloves. Confused, Arthur’s eyes follow you as you saunter over to Blue and step up towards his great head, stopping to place each glove over one of the horse’s ears. As your horse twitches his ears, the gloves appear to be hands waving back and forth at you. 

“Huh…Huh?” You point at Blue, a huge grin erupting over your face, clearly pleased with yourself and your childish little distraction. 

Arthur just stares at you blankly, totally taken aback at your adolescent behavior. “You’re ridiculous,” he snorts with an eye roll to the heavens.

“Oh, come on, that’s funny and you know it!” you snicker, hugging Blue’s neck affectionately. 

Arthur rolls his eyes skyward once more, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head at your nonsense as he finally ambles over to you. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he huffs. 

Knowing he’s been beaten, Arthur sighs with resignation, wrapping you up against his barrel chest and bear-hugging you tightly. Your glittering laugh gets muffled by his chest as your arms hook under his to return his embrace. Arthur pulls back for a moment, collecting your happy little face into his giant hands, and looks down at you. But all he can do is shake his head once more before hugging you again, placing his chin atop of your head. 

Amazingly, you were right: he has forgotten all about Micah Bell. 

Later, after you’ve gotten Arthur to calm down enough to safely be around other people again, the two of you are tucked away in his tent. He sits on the cot, scribbling something in his journal, as you stand in front of his shaving mirror, unpinning your hair and getting ready to retire for the evening. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I found something for you!” Your face lights up with excitement as you spin around back to his table and pick up one of the items sitting there. You eagerly shove a small aluminum tin into his face, hardly able to contain yourself. Arthur peers inside, curious what it is that has you so worked up. 

“Cherries?” he questions, surprised to see the little jeweled fruit inside. 

“Yeah! I found a cherry tree that the birds hadn’t gotten into yet, so I picked some for you. I remember you telling me that your mother used to make cherry cobbler for you as a kid. So I was going to try and make you some.” You look down at the tin of deep red fruit, shaking it a bit and watching them roll about. “I’ll have to mix these with some that we’ve jarred up, so it probably won’t be as good as hers,” you admit, mouth twisting a bit in disappointment, “but we’ll see.” You look back at him with a simple smile and shrug before turning to set the tin back down on the table. 

Arthur stares at you, thinking back to the other night at the fire when you whispered those lovely little words to him. His mind rolls over how you treat him, how you care for him, how you’ve made him your focus like no one ever has before. 

“Hey, you”, he mutters softly. 

You lift your face back to him, eyebrows arched awaiting him to continue. “Hmm?” 

The outlaw reaches out with his calloused hand and gently wraps it around your bicep, pulling you over to him. You stand between Arthur’s knees as he holds your hips and stares up at your angelic face. You lean over and kiss his forehead, his eyes fluttering closed as you run your fingers through his hair. After a moment, his eyes slowly open again, drinking you in. And Arthur realizes as he stares into your beautiful eyes that he has fallen in love with all of the millions of simple little things that you do, things that you do all of the time, and don’t even realize you’re doing them. 

“I love you, (Y/N).” 

You smile brightly down at him as his gravelly voice utters those amazing words so softly from his lips. You observe the seriousness in his face, so earnest in his declaration, as if he is trying to convince you of it. Arthur waits for your reply, hoping he hasn’t taken too long to tell you, fearing you’ve had second thoughts. 

After a brief moment you lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose. “I know,” you whisper, raising an eyebrow with that smart look you get. 

“I mean it”, he insists. “I never wanted more ‘til I had you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” His hands grasp a bit tighter as if he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him. “I suppose I was just too afraid to let myself go there again.” 

“It’s not love that you’re afraid of, Arthur. It’s that the next person that you love will be like the person who left you broken.” You cup your hands around his face, your thumbs drawing against the weathered skin of his cheeks. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows crease even further, that shadow of worry cascading over his face again. “(Y/N), I can’t give you the life you want, the life that you deserve.” 

“Are we doing this again?” you ask with a tinge of admonishment. “Arthur, I don't want someone who will promise me the world. I want someone who will hold me when I need it; who will bring me coffee in the morning; who will pull the blanket over me on cold nights when I’m sleeping. I want someone who will love me the same as I love them: madly, uncontrollably, inconveniently, and, yeah, maybe even foolishly.” A bright smile illuminates your face. “And I think you’re just the fool I’ve been waiting for.”

This makes a small chuckle break from his stern face as he shakes his head.

You pull his stubbled face in closer to yours. “I don’t care how complicated this gets, Arthur. I still want you.”

He lifts his hands from your hips and wraps them around your wrists as you continue to hold his face. “Maybe I’m afraid because you mean more to me than anyone ever has. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you won’t mess it up, Arthur.”

You watch the idea of it settle over Arthur, wrapping him up like a warm blanket and just as comforting as one, too. The tension in his shoulders ebbs away and his eyes soften and twinkle, making them rival the bluest ocean. 

He smiles up at you again. “Say it.” 

“What?”

“Say it again for me, would ya? Say you love me.” Arthur beams up at you as he wraps his arms completely around your hips, pulling you in and holding you tightly.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than you can ever know or even comprehend.” You lean your face in close again, hovering sweetly over his. “We can do this, Arthur. I promise.” 

“Yeah, we can.”

—--------------------

The next day, Arthur, Charles and Javier have gone into town to get more supplies and stop for a round of poker and a quick drink. A quick drink soon turns into many. And many drinks turns into an argument with the locals. One that ends with the boys coming home victorious, but pretty banged up. Even as drunk as they were, the Van Der Linde gang is not a group of men to be messed with. 

Charles and Javier come back with mostly superficial wounds, black eyes and bruised ribs. Arthur, of course, always seems to carry the brunt of the trauma in these situations. If he’s not taking on the largest brawler, he’s dealing with more than one man at a time. Either way, Arthur is always the one to come home more torn up than the others.

But thankfully, you now have Arthur safely in your med tent, stitching up a shallow knife laceration in his side as he sits quiet and guilty. Arthur sheepishly avoids your eyes, as you are unusually silent about the situation, a clear indication that you are not happy about it. You tug on the thread of his stitches a little too aggressively as short huffs emanate from your nose in frustration.

“What if you get tired of this?” Arthur grumbles as he watches how you carefully pull the thread through his red and inflamed skin, wincing slightly as the needle pushes into his flesh over and over again. 

“Of what? Patching holes in you that you get from being reckless and stupid? Or seeing you without your shirt on? Because those are two totally different things,” you quip as your eyes briefly dart up to meet his before going back to your handiwork.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I do hate seeing you all busted up and bleeding,” you frown. Your delicate fingers dance across the damaged skin, deftly folding the thread around your fingertips with expert precision.

“It ain’t so bad. If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy’s knuckles,” Arthur jokes.

“Funny,” you deadpan.

“You ain’t the only one who’s funny, you know.” He pokes his long finger into your ribs in jest, making you squirm as you try to keep your hands steady.

“Point taken.” You continue to fuss, cleaning his wound and scrutinizing the stitchwork. “I will always take care of you, Arthur. I promise.” 

“And I will always be reckless and stupid,” he snickers. 

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “That wasn’t the point.” 

“Nope, can’t go back on your promise now,” he gloats.

—--------------------------------

You wake in the middle of the night in your tent, cold and lonely. Arthur was still out of camp when you went to bed tonight, but you miss him terribly. Sometimes when you are separated, you get this overwhelming feeling of emptiness without him. Maybe it is the ever-impending threat of danger that you live in. Or maybe it is that you just love him so much that it hurts to be apart. 

Still half asleep, you meander out of your tent and quietly pad over to Arthur’s, hoping to find him there. When you get to his tent and pull back the opening, you find him asleep on his cot. He still has his boots on, too, which means he came home and just plopped down and passed out. (Usually he will stop by your tent upon returning to camp, but you figure he was either too tired or didn’t want to disturb you.)

You smile with a great sense of relief and slip inside the tent, affixing the tent door down behind you again in privacy. You tiptoe over to the cot and carefully crawl onto the bedding. You snuggle-up next to Arthur’s side, lifting his arm and wrapping it around yourself as you rest your head on his chest. Once settled, you breathe out a sigh of contentment, nuzzling your face into his chest and eager to feel the warmth that radiates off of him. Within moments, you are back asleep, tucked safely under Arthur’s arm.

But while you fall back to sleep, Arthur is awake for the next hour that follows. He stirs at the feeling of your delicate hand around his wrist when you settle in next to him, but he has a hard time going back to sleep now. As you lay there together, Arthur listens to your peaceful breathing and inhales your flowery scent. He relishes the feeling of your weight on his chest and your feline-like body up against him. As he lays in the soothing darkness, his gaze lands on your gently sleeping form laying upon him. He observes how your chest steadily rises and falls with each delicate breath. He notices how you have carefully entwined your leg around his own, and your fingers gracefully splay across his beating heart. Arthur realizes that he has in his grasp what he’s always wanted:  someone to come home to, someone waiting for just him. And he doesn’t want to miss a single moment that he gets to hold you like this. 

When Arthur eventually shifts his weight, it causes you to stir from your comforted slumber. A large and deep yawn escapes you as you roll your eyes up to meet his blue orbs gazing down at you. A sleepy grin blooms across your face when you see that he is awake. 

Arthur softly runs the back of his dirt-stained knuckles against your cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s alright. I should probably be getting up anyway.” You sigh with a slight pang of disappointment as you roll yourself up and stand off the cot. 

“Aw c’mon, stay with me,” Arthur whines, catching your hand and holding it tightly. 

“All night?”

“Yeah, all night,” he insists. “It ain’t like people don’t know what we’re up to in here. And either way, it’s none of their business anyway.” He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he continues to hold yours, playing with your fingers and drawing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you really want to roll over and wake up with my face smashed into yours?” you tease.

“More than anything.” Arthur tugs you back down to him and kisses the corner of your eye, making you giggle. ”I’ll make it worth your while,” he utters out in a sultry tone, causing your knees to go weak. Your only response is a flutter of your eyelashes and a deep kiss to his pillowy lips as you climb back onto his cot. 

Arthur shifts his body and wraps his muscled arm around you to usher you back down, pinning you under him. A quiet hum escapes into the quiet, still air as he quickly deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing past your sweet lips. You hungrily reciprocate his affection, your hand gliding from his cheek to the back of his head as your fingers card through his hair. The feeling of your fingernails gently scraping along his scalp sends shivers throughout his whole tired body. Slowly, your knee bends, rubbing your leg against his much larger frame, indicating that you want more. 

Arthur’s hand roams freely and greedily over your sumptuous body as his palm firmly clamps over your breast, massaging the tender flesh before his mouth encompasses it over the thin cotton of your nightgown. Your chin floats back at the feeling of him touching you, your mind already lost in an incoherent fog. He works his way from your breast to your sternum, and proceeds to leave a trail of kisses and caresses down your figure. And as things go, your heat begins to tingle and ache with dire need. The anticipation is wreaking havoc with you, drawing soft whines and moans from your throat. 

The delicious sounds emanating from you set Arthur ablaze inside. He quickly sits up onto his knees as he begins to impatiently pull at your nightgown. But instead of just pushing it up, he yanks the obstructing article up and over your head. With the top half of your body exposed, Arthur makes quick work of your bloomers, folding your legs up in front of him so he can work the fabric down your lovely calves and over your feet. 

You are now completely bare to him, your large, shining eyes staring up at him as he looms over you like a predator. Arthur’s own eyes are filled with a divine mixture of love and lust, just for you. Your arms stretch out to him as a silent plea for him to continue. With a smirk, Arthur is quick to pull his shirt over his head and undo the buttons of his trousers and union suit underneath. You reach up and clumsily tug at the sleeves of his undergarment, exposing his chest to the cold night air. He has no time to strip himself down completely, as once his hard cock springs free from its confines, it is very clear he is ready to get things moving along. 

Arthur covers your body with his own once more, slowly rocking back and forth with a hypnotic motion. Your leg snakes around his backside in response, your heel digging into his thigh. Hot, steamy breaths cover each other’s faces from the barrage of wet heated kisses as the intimacy quickly escalates. Arthur’s hand drifts down between your two bodies to seek out your tender folds. A sharp moan jumps from your lips as the pads of his fingers sublimely rake across the delicate skin between your legs and your pelvis jerks up to grind against his palm. 

“Christ Almighty,” Arthur pants with his lips crushed against your temple.

“I know”, you sigh in agreement. 

A deep and guttural groan erupts from his chest, filled with want and desire for you. Feeling how your slick coats his fingers already, Arthur reluctantly withdraws his fingers to give himself a few quick pumps of his cock, using your wetness to lubricate himself. He rolls his hips to align his large body at your entrance, looking down at where your hips conjoin. Your hands find their way under his arms and grasp tightly to the flesh of his back, urging him to move forward and to do it quickly. Arthur’s chin lifts to meet your gaze, finding your mouth gaped and eyes heavy-lidded with wondrous longing as his name falls as a whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

He hastily pushes himself into you, his usual slow and careful pace forgotten about. The feeling of his thick cock being roughly shoved into you makes you cry out, but you are quickly muffled with his scorching mouth over top of yours. Arthur is quick to start a fast pace, as his hips snap sharply into yours, rutting deeply into your core. The velvety walls of your cunt flutter tightly around him when you feel his length twitching inside you. The grinding is euphoric, sending waves of pleasure shooting throughout your bodies. The way the two of you sync up in the throws of passion is glorious, transcending any pleasure either of you have ever known. 

Arthur proceeds to sit back up onto his knees so he can fully take in the vision of you, your body shuddering beneath him from his force. The cot creaks beneath you as the very strength of its joints is being tested. He wraps his hands around your soft thighs for leverage as he observes how his cock glides in and out of you. Your back lifts off of the cot, arching to angle your pelvis towards him, eager for him to fill you even more, if that is even possible. Your hands seek out his thick wrists, slightly pulling yourself towards him to match his motion. When your head drops back against the canvas of the cot again, Arthur immediately falls forward to suck on your exposed jugular, leaving slight bite marks that pinch your overly sensitive skin. 

“You are so fucking amazing,” he garbles into your skin. “I don’t ever want to leave this tent.”

His burly body covers yours once again, encasing you under his muscled limbs as his arm snakes around your head, his face tucked tightly into your neck. 

“Then we won’t,” you whisper. You turn your face towards his, your bottom teeth dragging across the plump skin of his earlobe, your panting hissing in his ear as he continues to rock into you. You can taste the saltiness of his skin and the faint notes of earthy musk from being out all day in the elements as your tongue flicks at the bare skin of his shoulder as you attempt to muffle your moans into the muscle there. Your whole naked body feels as if it’s on fire with every inch of it touching him right now. The sound of your beloved outlaw grunting lustfully into your ear erases any and all other outside distractions or thoughts. And as his torso lurches back and forth over you, you feel that oh-so lovely lightning barrling its way towards your climax. 

“Whatever you do, don’t stop now,” you whine. Your arms encircle Arthur even tighter as you await that rapturous feeling that you know is coming. 

As usual, your whole body clamps down around him when your climax hits. Your wanton squeaks and moans are a bewitching melody in Arthur’s mind. The already-tight walls of your cunt restrict around his hefty cock, drawing out a brief whimper from him, pushing him to his own orgasm as he pulls himself out of you and rubs himself against your stomach in search of that friction needed to finish. 

Arthur instinctively clutches you to himself when he climaxes with an almost bone-crushing pressure. You tremble slightly, more from the overstimulation than from the damp night air encompassing you. You curl up into him, clinging desperately to his frame. Your fingertips dig into the valley of his spine, the soft chestnut colored hair that decorates his back sticking to his skin with a thin layer of sweat. The two of you have been together quite a few times by now, but every damn time it is exquisite, just as if it was the first time all over again.

The feeling of Arthur’s chest rapidly rising and falling beneath your arms mesmerizes you as you feel the very life of him coursing through your hands while you lay there wrapped up in each other. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you nestle your face into that coveted space where his massive shoulder and neck meet. The weight of Arthur on top of you is so comforting. Where some may consider Arthur’s sheer bulk smothering, you find it calming. You wonder how he could ever think you are not safe when you’re with him, as that is always where you feel the most secure.

Your hips are always a bit sore after making love to Arthur, not used to opening up so wide to accommodate such a large man, but you snicker as you tell yourself that you’ll just have to do it more often to get used to it. The more you are together, the more comfortable and relaxed you become, giving in to the sweet intoxicating feeling of the other. The societal shame and guilt that often gets attributed to the act of sex have long been discarded. You two are no longer self conscious about being too loud, and are no longer hiding your bodies from each other in fear of rejection. Playful giggles of excitement, needy and eager hands, and exploratory kisses are the norm for you two now. 

Both fully expended and exhausted, Arthur hands you one of his towels to clean your stomach of his pearly spend that scatters across your skin. Once you toss the soiled linen to the side, Arthur shifts his body lower so he can lay his head onto your chest and pulls his blanket up and over the two of you. Your lips lay against the crown of his head as you play with the thick waves of hair while your fingertips drag along his forearm that tightly holds you to him. And within moments, you are both fast asleep again. 

—---------------------------------------------

After breakfast, you finish washing up the last of the dirty dishes, drying your hands on your short apron as you head over to the horses to give them the vegetable scraps. Arthur is already over there, throwing down some grain and fresh water for the lot. He catches your eye as you approach, giving you a smile and nod as you return his gaze with a blushing grin, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind as well as between your thighs. 

Arthur watches you as you toss the greens into the horses’ buckets, laughing lightly as they push each other to get to you. “Alright, piglets, hold on. There’s enough to go around.” You lovingly pat Taimia on the neck, as she is the best behaved out of all of these “spoiled children”. Arthur draws on the cigarette that hangs from his mouth, his eyes hovering over you. He squints slightly as he fidgets with the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts kicking around in his head since last night.

“Hey, so I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’...” he starts nervously, his voice hesitant as he tosses the butt into the grass. 

You look over your shoulder back to Arthur as you try to keep Blue from nipping at your pockets, looking for treats. “Yeah?”

 “When we setup the new camp in a few days, what if you put your things in my tent?” He averts his gaze from yours for a second, unsure of how you will react to his suggestion.

But you simply give him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Arthur takes a tentative breath before he elaborates. “You know, move your things over and, um…stay there.”

It takes a moment to register, but the idea of it causes a huge smile to slowly spread across your face from ear to ear. “Arthur Morgan, are you asking me to share your tent with you?” Your cheeks flush like a brilliant rose and you nibble your bottom lip with excitement.

Arthur reciprocates with a big grin of his own. “I kinda like the idea of waking up next to you every mornin’.” He swaggers over closer to you. “Although you do snore, though.”

“I do not!” you exclaim in playful offense, your hands planting onto your hips.

“Yeah, you do. It’s cute, though,” he snickers. “Like a cat meowing.” He proceeds to imitate a snore/meow sound as he pulls you to him by your waist. 

You slap his arm as you playfully scowl at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Arthur arches an eyebrow at you as he ducks his head to kiss under your jawline. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” smirking as you roll your eyes. “I'm kind of already invested in you and all.”

“It kinda works out nice that way. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your effervescent giggle makes Arthur’s heart melt. “I’ll take that deal.”

Arthur cups his hand around your cheek, his thumb pushing your chin up so he can look into your glittering eyes. “I’ll ride with you through all the bullshit, Y/N, just as long as you don’t bullshit me. Fair?”

Your delicate hands run up his chest and push over his strong shoulders where your fingers lace together behind his neck. “I can only make you two promises, Arthur:  That I will never hurt you in the way that I, myself, have been hurt, and that I will love you in the ways that you, yourself, have never been loved.” 

You stare into those sapphire eyes of his, trying not to get distracted by the full-range of emotions he has dammed up behind them, emotions that you have only just begun to unleash. “I don't want to just be with you, Arthur. I want to live and love with you. I want to experience every single thing, stupid or great, that our time on this Earth is willing to give us together.” 

A deep and relaxing breath is pulled into Arthur’s lungs and released, taking with it any of the anxiety and doubt that he’s been fostering over this new thing, this new beginning that you have gifted him and that he cannot wait to start.

“Just be with me now and we’ll figure out the details later, I suppose,” he hums. He leans down to catch the rose petals of your lips into a delicate kiss. Your eyes float close and you smile into his mouth. The kiss is not too short, nor too long, but just perfect, as it carries all of the affection you both hold within it.

Arthur pulls back from you, and cradles your face in both of his large hands, staring down at your happy, sparkling expression. 

“In my life full of wrongs, Y/N,  you’re the thing that’s right in it. And I don’t want to miss a minute of it.” 

[abyssalzones]

[1/3] Hello! My apologies, I'm not sure how the best way to approach this is, so I hope you'll bear with me. I have been struggling with some thoughts surrounding Ford and Fiddleford that I haven't really been sure how to parse, and I am genuinely interested in your opinion. I mean this in good faith, an open mind to learn, and from the perspective of someone who really enjoys your depictions of these two characters. Especially in your review/analysis of the Book of Bill, I really agree with the way you describe Fiddleford's significance to Ford and how their relationship with each other is.

I'm going to keep this fairly short and simple because my feelings on it are honestly not that complex, but I do really appreciate you coming to me with an open mind and explaining your own perspective. The truth is that I really don't think anything Bill did to Ford is equivalent to what Ford did to Fiddleford- which is not to say we're setting a standard for abuse at "the most extreme shit ever", but more that... I just don't see any evidence for it, whether that's textually or thematically.

Don't get me wrong- Ford definitely treated Fiddleford unfairly at certain points in the story. It's a major part of why their reunion feels all the more satisfying... but I think that has less to do with Ford not respecting Fiddleford and can be attributed largely to Bill's manipulation driving a wedge between them both. Ford and Fiddleford are, objectively speaking, equal partners: they were roommates in college, Fiddleford drove up to Oregon and stayed of his own accord to help Ford with what would become their portal project, and when shit gets to be too much, Fiddleford leaves. It's clear that even outside of a romantic interpretation they make for very good friends, something that to me is clearly not just a boss-employee relationship.

So the biggest faults in how Ford treats Fiddleford boil down to two things: a lack of trust ingrained from childhood bullying, and the evilest motherfucker in the world sitting on his shoulder and whispering lies into his ear. When Ford gives Fiddleford a stack of equations to work on, he's working himself to death just as hard if not harder. When he mixes up his Cubic's cube, he's playfully messing with him and potentially not understanding that it really is bothering him (if it is.) And later, when things start to truly unravel, Ford's rash behavior (leaving him at the diner, yelling WELL FINE I DON'T NEED YOU I DON'T NEED ANYONE >:(, etc) it's Bill's influence well and truly consuming him and successfully isolating him from someone he had a once-healthy relationship with. hell, even in the journal's small segment about the "a better world" dimension, Fiddleford and Ford eventually make up and become business partners after the success of their portal project, regardless of everything that happened between them- with a way shorter timeframe between those things than in canon.

Idk I just think that while it's true Ford has flaws I think that's true of... any other character on earth? and I just personally can't see a reading of their dynamic that's abusive being true. and that's not only for textual, canonical reasons but a matter of framing between Bill & Ford vs Fidds & Ford. I think "well abused people are capable of abuse too!" is a fair point to make but in this context seems superfluous and really committed to this idea that Ford is just as bad of a person as Bill, or something, that often happens with abuse victims in or out of fiction.

but that's just me

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost

As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.

Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.

Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."

CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."

-----

Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.

Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.

So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate. 

So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.

Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?

Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke. 

OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.

Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other. 

This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?

Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)

Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.

Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.

Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome. 

Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad. 

(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)

Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right. 

“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.  

Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.

Oh shit, avalanche! 

Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.

Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.

Wait. What. 

WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE. 

I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK. 

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!

Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.

Guess that'll be next episode?"

....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.

[nadas-dirthalen]

I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART FIVE: if you haven't read previous parts, do it now! —

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travelers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(no, this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

Today's Discussion: the Tragedy of the Evanuris (1/3)

— Beings Made, Souls Sundered, Hearts Blackened —

Welcome back! As always, please please please go read the earlier instalments of this series before reading this one. I don't have the space in every post to reiterate all relevant context, and I fear I'll leave people feeling lost if they jump in on this one.

Okay? Okay.

So: we've unearthed that Solas came from lyrium (probably). That Titans are the Forgotten ones; that the Maker is likely a Titan. That Titans were sundered, and the Fade is their (currently sundered) consciousness that once drifted freely over the world like wind. That all magic is one thing, and only looks like two schools because one pulls from the Titans' consciousness, and the other pulls from their physical bodies. That in the Chant of Light, at least some of the Evanuris are the Maker's first children, and they sought to conquer the earth.

Today, we'll go over what I think that means for all of them. Where I believe each Evanuris truly came from, what each of them did to wreak havoc upon the world and the Titans, and what I think could happen in Veilguard.

I do not have a chronology of the Evanuris's existence, though. Their history still reads something like, "the Evanuris were born/made -> ??? the everything??? every crime they did??? -> the Evanuris were trapped by Solas" in my brain. Therefore, I'll be splitting the topics up into each of the Evanuris, not an attempt at cataloguing their history linearly.

Mythal and Lyrium Coffins

Elgar'nan and Sundered Beings

Falon'Din and Blackened Hearts

Mythal and Lyrium Coffins

I'm going to make no attempt to guess how Mythal came into being herself, only that she is one of the Maker's first children and that Dalish legend says she rose from the sea (the emerald waters, perhaps). It's what she has done in the time since that interests me.

Starting off strong: this is the reason we're all here. This is the reason I've been inspired to write this post in the first place. The revelation that shook my brain: that it was Mythal who did not just ask Solas to manifest into a body, but who mined him from a Titan.

One reason I put Mythal first is that, with what little I understand of the chronology, I believe that her actions of mining people from the Titans came before the others', simply because the act of making people must come before the horrible acts that were later done to those people by the other Evanuris.

It seems like Mythal's crime (because yeah, I'm going to call "mining spirits from lyrium and putting them into corporeal bodies without their enthusiastic consent and then putting her vallaslin on their faces" a crime) is the foundation upon which all the others' happens. This is how the Evanuris built their empires, it seems: by warring with the Titans and creating the elvhen out of the spoils of that war.

It has massive implications for the elvhen people and their elven descendants. It has implications for the world of spirits, both lyrium- and Fade-based. Regardless of if Mythal eventually became the "sole voice of Reason" that Solas claims she was before she was murdered, the point is that the Evanuris's crimes all stem from Mythal's own.

Remember that she, too, was holding up a golden orb with Elgar'nan. She, too, was naming herself a false god.

The other reason I've included Mythal first is that this is our first concrete confirmation that there is a direct relation between the actions of the Evanuris and the vallaslin we can choose as players. They could not have been more obvious with this one: Mythal's vallaslin are the shape of Solas's original body, and likely the same shape as the other countless people she mined from lyrium. This means we can examine the other Evanuris's vallaslin for clues about their deeds during their reign as the elven gods.

Let's begin taking a look at the rest of the pantheon. First: if Mythal made the first elvhen, what did her counterpart, Elgar'nan, do?

Elgar'nan and Sundered Beings

Elgar'nan's origin seems to be different from Mythal's. The sun, in Dalish legend, is often associated with dragons. Elgar'nan was supposedly born from a union between the sun and the earth, in the place where they touched. My hypothesis is that Elgar'nan is the product of dragonfire wounding a Titan, and Elgar'nan breaking off from said Titan as a result. This is only a guess, and is not what I want to focus on. Instead, I want to turn our collective attention to his deeds, as they are more important for the story of the Evanuris.

We now understand that the Evanuris mined Titans to create their followers, the elvhen. This is the first crime of the Evanuris, done by Mythal. It gave way to all the others. To understand this, let us look at Mythal and Elgar'nan's first "children."

Dirthamen and Falon’Din are linked in Dalish legend as inseparable twin brothers. Scraps of elven stories from after the fall of Arlathan—transcribed into Tevinter and recently lent to our fair University—refer to them as “twin souls” but draw no family connection. The oldest stories never even name them directly, referring to Falon’Din as “Dirthamen’s shadow,” and Dirthamen as “Falon’Din’s reflection.” The little we understand implies their bond was not romantic, beyond even the strongest friendship. The legends of Dirthamen and Falon’Din may have been an allegory for complex elven relationships we lack context to comprehend.

For a long time, I wondered what this relationship could be. But once I'd seen for certain that Mythal mined bodies from Titans—and once I pieced together that these bodies and spirits are intricately related, as lyrium stores thought and memory in a physical container—I knew the implications behind "twin souls."

I then referred to Dalish legend. Now, one must remember not to read Dalish legend literally, just like with the Chant of Light. The Sun may be referred to as Elgar'nan's father, but I posit that the Sun is just another of Thedas's magical forces: dragons, or anything relating to fire and the draconic.

From the wiki:

According to elven legend, the sun grew jealous of the favor shown by Elgar'nan for the things of the earth, and so burned them to ashes. In retaliation, Elgar'nan threw the sun down from the sky, and only later relented because of Mythal's intervention. He was convinced, with her help, to restore his father to the sky on the promise that the sun would set each night.

Dalish legend is full of symbols, but if we read this through that lens, then Elgar'nan threw down a powerful being—whether a dragon or a powerful spirit associated with fire (rage demon, anyone?)—into the abyss.

To get an idea of what happened down there, I turned to a codex found in the Deep Roads in Trespasser.

What were the ancient elves doing down here? Mining? Where were the dwarves? Easier to have them mine it. Not a trading post. You don't go into a friend's home, knock over their gods, and put up your own. War? I don't remember any legends about our people fighting the dwarves. Though I remember my Keeper telling a story about how the dwarves fear the sun because of Elgar'nan's fire. A metaphor for the elves of Arlathan driving the dwarves underground?

Remember that ancient elvhen mining looked a lot like creating people. And whatever Elgar'nan did down here, it put lasting fear into the dwarves.

The legend says that Elgar'nan then released the sun into the sky, after Mythal's intervention. Note that this area of the Deep Roads is where Mythal's lyrium coffins are found. And after Mythal intervened and Elgar'nan released that "Sun" he'd thrown down?

And that night, when the sun had gone to sleep, Mythal gathered the glowing earth around his bed, and formed it into a sphere to be placed in the sky, a pale reflection of the sun's true glory.

Mythal released another being, out of the wreckage of what Elgar'nan had done. A reflection of that "Sun." Noting that Dirthamen is referred to as "Falon'Din's Reflection," I think that gives us insight into Elgar'nan's actions during the reign of the Evanuris: the ones that would make someone like Solas feel seething hatred for him, enough to call the Evanuris his "mortal enemies."

And his vallaslin perfectly illustrate that: the complex version of the Elgar'nan vallaslin, pictured above, shows a face split in half. One half is painted in the inverse colours of the other, showing a perfect divide between two things. One side, a reflection; the other, more coloured in, is effectively a shadow of the other.

And the achievement icon I've placed next to it confirms my theory: Elgar'nan is holding up a moon in the memory titled, "Our Mistake." (Why this is not the sun, I can only guess. Ease of illustration, maybe?)

But the question remains: what did Dirthamen and Falon'Din then do that would earn them places in the same evil pantheon?

Falon'Din and Blackened Hearts

We know that vallaslin tell stories, so right away, I'll direct you to look at Falon'Din's. We can see what looks like roots and branches, with an orb of some kind in the center. When I first started playing Dragon Age (March of this year, can you believe), I associated that with some Tree of Life imagery, with a focus on the roots and (ostensibly) Death. Makes sense, right?

But look at the image from Memory #3: Blackened Hearts right next to it. That is the heart of a Titan, swathed in shadowy tendrils, with a lot of undead-looking hands reaching toward it.

Suddenly, I am seeing a Titan's heart in the middle of my Rook's forehead. The Rook I made in August.

I think there's still more to unearth. Let's look at what Solas says about Falon'Din in the Temple of Mythal:

"I do not believe they sing songs about Falon'Din's vanity. It is said Falon'Din's appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the gods, once the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon'Din only surrendered when his brethren bloodied him in his own temple."

"He began wars to amass more worshippers" has caught my attention, now, in a new way. We know now that the Evanuris didn't amass all their following through matters of persuasion. In fact, they made their own followings, harvesting them from Titans.

"The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans." Before, I might have read that as killing so many people that their blood would fill an ocean. But even for Solas, even for the Evanuris, that seems like an exaggeration. Now I ask: were the lakes as wide as oceans already there, deep underground? Did the Titans' blood flow into them as Falon'Din waged his wars?

And, finally, "the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across [Mythal's] own people." Now, we know that that does not just mean Mythal's faithful, or her friends. It means the people that Mythal was making—a group which Solas belongs to. I'm beginning to see why he'd hate Falon'Din so viscerally.

But what was Falon'Din's goal, really?

The People swore their lives to Falon'Din Who mastered the dark that lies. Whose shadows hunger Whose faithful sing Whose wings of death surround him Thick as night. Lethanavir, master-scryer, be our guide, Through shapeless worlds and airless skies.

The Chant oft refers to a number of opposites. Earth and Sky, yes, but also Darkness and Light—also referring to the Abyss and the Fade. If we imagine that Falon'Din has mastered this darkness, and that the singer of this song suggests that the darkness lies, it may be that Falon'Din was anti-Titan in general. "Wings of death" surrounding him may refer to dragons, as "Winged Death" does in the case of Elgar'nan's codices. After, we come to the final stanza: "Lethanavir, master-scryer, be our guide / Through shapeless worlds and airless skies."

Keeping with the Earth/Sky metaphor, I am wondering if Falon'Din wanted an end to everything Titan-related to get rid of magic entirely: both Earth and Sky.

I wonder if what he accomplished was not killing the Titans, though, but "blackening their hearts." We already know that the Forgotten Ones are beings of "malice, terror, spite, and pestilence." They have names remarkably similar to demons. Perhaps, in trying to kill them, Falon'Din turned them from benevolent beings to these twisted opposite qualities.

If that is the case, it has major implications for the Evanuris later in this series. Not only that, but major implications for the world of Thedas at large. Once these Titans' hearts were blackened, what horrors began to befall Ancient Elvhenan?

What went so wrong that Solas sundered all the Titans' minds from their bodies in order to stop catastrophe?

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As ever, if you got this far, thank you!! I look forward to reading any additions or questions people might have, as ever!!

Also: I am trying my hardest not to consume full-game-review spoilers! As these reviews have just gone live a few hours ago (10/28), I am not reading my notifications/replies, and am appearing here only to continue posting my theories.

But if you feel like sticking around anyway, stay tuned for: The Tragedy of the Evanuris pt. 2: Horrors Enacted Upon the Faithful.