#hope he has the bestest birthday of his old man dreams

[randomfingthings]

✨ happy birfday to the old man, the myth, the legend, the crimes king fernando nando alonso ✨

[papasbaseball]

Primo x Reader (Calore e Gabbia)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Primo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Good old fashioned smut

Summary: Papa Emeritus Primo, the Gardener of the Ministry, has long caught your eye. You’ve slipped into the Ministry sauna this morning in hopes that you will catch his and move up in the ranks among the ministry. Little birds are rarely as hidden as they think, and Papa Emeritus Primo has plans for you too.

Word Count: 3,627

Notes: This is a birthday present for @astouract! Have the bestest birthday my love! Here’s to another year of sinning <3

Translations at the end.

AO3 Link

There are few things as unpleasant as hell-hot humidity. In the early summer, as the spring rain is on its dying breath, it clings to the skin like a blanket of sweat, unable to be wiped away. Skin sticks to skin and clothes melt to the body in a heated need to be united as one. It churns the stomach in revulsion, cooking the living like a delicacy. In the early weeks of summer the library and catacombs are a refuge to the nausea, ditching out on chores to slip into their cool dark embrace. The lengths you went to to make sure the sweat of nature never touched your skin crossed your mind just once as you pulled the towel around you tighter and walked into the sauna.

It was like choking on smoke, the steam infiltrating your lungs as you inhaled to adjust to the smoldering box. The scent of cedar followed on the tail of the steam seeping into you and you wrinkled your nose at it. Your fingers tightened around the rough terrycloth of the towel as you padded over to a nearby bench, the wooden planks warm and slightly damp to your feet. You were the only person in the sauna right then. Your host would be arriving soon.

You weren’t a morning person. Misfortune had forced that upon you four weeks ago. Standing there in the kitchen as siblings clanged pans and cracked eggs, you laid out soft, doughy biscuits on a tray. Looking out the murky stained glass window as the soft light of dawn slowly brought forth the shapes of cold bushes and delicate flowers, you couldn’t help but to wish for the warmth of your bed, a few more minutes of sleep. In the middle of your dreaming daydream you spotted him: Papa Emeritus Primo, bundled up in thick, warm robes, creeping quietly through the morning mist of the garden to the bathhouse outside the Ministry. Each morning you’d watch  the grease-covered clock that hung over the door to the dining hall until it was 5:50 and then stare out that murky window, waiting for the elderly man’s journey.

It was no secret that you fancied the Papas—most of the congregation did. There were perks to gaining favor with them: nicer clothes with less holes in them, meals with fresh meat and warm bread if you were invited to dine. Some lucky few had been moved to spacious living quarters attached to the papal suites for optimal discretion. That was never why you stopped and stared in the hallways as he passed by, gluing yourself to groups of siblings to make your spying less obvious. No, there was something comforting about the way he moved, something that the other Papas couldn’t replicate. Others thought him to be boring or scary, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was a gentle touch in those glove-obscured hands.

He was the silent type, sentences short, only giving polite nods and the occasional cough as siblings filed into the chapel for midnight mass. Bland as oatmeal was how one sister had put it. But you'd seen him in the gardens that day when you took a shortcut from the cemetery to the catacombs to avoid the humidity. It was the affection of a lover that guided his movements as he poured water onto the soft loamy soil that covered the roots of a curling plant that spilled its vines freely across the gravel path. He caressed the plant leaves and whispered to them in Italian, thumbs brushing away any stray dust or pollen that might have imposed itself upon the emerald life. Brushing and stroking the leaves, you watched him in a daze, wondering if he would stroke a lover’s face the same way.

The door creaked open and he shuffled in. The burlap cloak fell to the floor with a soft thump and you looked away quickly: he had no clothes on underneath. You looked back just enough to keep an eye on him in the peripheral. He gave a great yawn and stretched like a cat in the lazy afternoon sun. When he leaned back you heard his spine cracking followed by the whispered scratching of nails against skin. He shuffled only one foot forward before taking note of the toweled intruder.

“Sister.” Papa Primo’s voice was still hoarse from sleep. The never-before-heard bass caused you to shift.

“Papa,” you said. Even avoiding his white eye and naked body, the words stuck in your throat, tangled with the steam.

He resumed his procession toward the bench, taking his time to lower himself gently onto the baking wood, watching you the whole way down. His back popped again when he pressed his palms against his thighs. A groan of contentment echoed through the sauna as he released the tension, making himself comfortable. “I do not get many visitors here.”

“I’m intruding,” your voice came weakly. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.” You clutched your towel to you, hurrying to leave, hurrying to crawl back to your bed to forget this mistake.

“Scusa,” he hoarsed, a gruff authority in his voice barring the exit to you, “it is rare to find una suora that is an early bird. The steam only calls to me and an occasional ghoul this early.”

You took your seat once more, tucking your hands beneath your thighs to stop from fidgeting with them. “I couldn’t sleep,” you lied.

He sniffed at this and you dared to look at his face. “Could not or would not?”

You squirmed as he looked you in the eye, unable to speak. This was a bad plan. The urge to run away rattled through your bones. Who were you to try and sleep with a Papa? It would have been better etiquette to just wait for one to approach you. That’s how it’s done. That’s how it’s always been done. Ghouls delivering gifts and keys, being pulled out of Ministry duties for furtive appointments. It was all unspoken rules and signals. Yet here you were, trying to weasel your way into Papa Primo’s bed.

“Scusa, I tease.”

A half-hearted laugh escaped your lungs. He was joking. Of course he was joking. The silence hung as he examined you and your stupid little laugh. It hung until you were convinced it would hang yourself. The fake explanations gushed forth. “My dreams were restless. I found myself waking up so much that I came here. I hoped the steam would help put me to sleep.”

“If you are having trouble sleeping you could come see me, sister.”

“Oh?” It’s all you could manage as you fought the thought of slipping through the night surreptitiously to knock on his door and warm his bed for the price of a good night’s sleep.

He got up, joints creaking, and grabbed the ladle out of the water pail. You watched as he ambled over to the hot coals. You watched the sinewy arms guide the ladle dripping with water over the coals. You watched as the water slipped down the side of the ladle, hugging its curve, clinging to its old way, resisting the fire that would set it free as steam. You watched as with a little more tilt the water broke free of the curve, pulled down, and met the hot coals with a great hiss. You watched as the room filled with steam, obscuring the oldest Emeritus brother and yourself. You watched and moved.

“We have many medicinal plants that can help you if you are feeling unea-“ His words trailed off as the steam cleared, revealing yourself. You arched your back more to accentuate your breasts and the heart that hammered between them. Your hands gripped the towel that now rested around your hips, trying to still their shaking. He whispered something in Italian, his hiss mingling with the residual of the coals. “Rare indeed.”

Your stomach flipped. You were rapidly approaching the coals and had yet to know if they were hot.

A brief smile played in those old tired eyes before he resumed his seat. “You are bold, Suora. I knew I had a little dove watching me from her cage every morning, but I did not know she was so lascivious.”

Your blood ran cold, and you felt more naked in that statement than when you had first shed your towel. He had never once looked over to where you had laid out breakfast for the ministry in stupefied admiration. You knew he had never spied you himself because if he had looked at you in any singular way you would have knocked the tray of biscuits to the floor.

“Gli uccellini raramente sono così nascosti come pensano. You want an antidote to your restlessness?”

You nodded. His unmoving gaze commanded you to nod. It didn’t matter if you were answering the lie or the truth that had roused you from sleep into this hellishly hot sauna so early in the morning, and Satan was it hot.

“Dimmi bambina: You want your Papa’s cock?”

Steam settled around him as he waited for your answer, an early morning reverie that you were uncertain you wouldn’t wake up from. You glanced down at those weathered hands and then back up to his mismatched gaze. “I want your co… only yours. I-” Your mind felt fogged up from the steam, unable to tell him how Terzo was too flashy and Secondo too scary. It wasn’t the title you wanted: it was him.

“Vieni qui, colomba.” He patted the planks in between his legs.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you got up, watching as he dragged his eyes over your naked form. The butterflies in your stomach danced as you watched his pupils linger on your hips a second too long before they met your own, staring up into your sinful soul. He reached out a hand and pulled you to be seated with your back to his chest. His hands were worn smooth and shiny with age and hard work of many a garden tool. They slid up the steam-warmed skin of your arms, not in any particular hurry. Meeting collar bone, he gently pressed you back into him, his smattering of  silver chest hair tickling the nape of your neck. Like a flower, he luxuriously inhaled the bouquet of your scent, his aquiline nose pressed into your scalp and then neck. At last, he licked the petal-soft skin right above the last reminder that you were living and breathing and that it was all real.

You leaned into his touch and taste, whimpering as his right hand gripped your jaw to present your neck to him, his canvas soon to be painted with bruises from his lips. His left hand slipped between your thighs, not wasting any time swiping the smooth pad of his thumb over your clit.

Your breath came faster and faster and you squirmed from the brush, the important nerves alive for the first time that morning. “Rilassati, bambina. Papa will take care of you.” He mumbled the sedative into the crook of your neck as ring and index finger spread your lips, exposing your clit to his leisurely strokes, coaxing it and soothing it as if it were one of his revered plants.

Your heart beat against your ribs as he stroked and kissed, spurred on by the steam that loosened your vocal cords, a stream of moans praising his skilled touch and tongue. Papa Primo’s satisfaction at this pressed into your lower back.

He was well endowed by the Olde One. The tip of his cock nestled into the small of your back and for the first time, your worries were replaced with if you would be able to take the Papa you’d so long desired and watched from your kitchen window all those mornings. “Papa,” you started.

He flickered his finger quicker and quicker, his right hand dragged down your throat to knead your breast like he kneaded the earth before sowing seeds. “Cum for me, colomba. Cum for your Papa. Sì proprio così. Voglio che la tua fica sia bella e bagnata per il mio cazzo.” He quickly slid his fingers into your aching cunt, pressing hard into the tender flesh until you spasmed and fluttered internally.

You gripped his thighs as you watched the cords in his arm flex rapidly, unable to look away as palm and fingers continued to work through your orgasm, unrelenting. They pushed and pressed until you screamed, words failing you as he finally withdrew his fingers. He brought them to your mouth, pressing the cream-coated tips to your gasping lips.

“Assaggia te stessa, bambina mia.” He guided the slick fingers into your mouth, smearing your juices into your tastebuds. His fingers swept the inside of your cheeks, and under your tongue, eventually gently touching the back of your throat. “Good girl. It tastes good, sì? It is much better than the sleeping herbs I would have given you. Do you like the way your pussy tastes on my fingers?”

You sucked against them, tasting the salt and tang, until he pulled them free. The string of drool between your lips and his fingers broke as you answered, “Yes, Papa.”

“Bene, lay  down. This is your first time in the sauna, sì? I do not want you to pass out.” You did as told, and realized just how lightheaded you’d become as the blood flowed more easily, and sights and sounds became more clear. You watched how his thick cock swung as he walked to the pail of water. He scooped the water once more and brought it back to you.

“ Consider this a baptism.” He tilted the ladle, letting the water spill onto your warm skin. You jumped, but relaxed back into the cedar planks as the water washed away sweat and heat. He poured it over your chest, down your stomach, and at last between your thighs.

You sighed as the heat seemed to wick away from your body. He sunk the ladle back into the pail, returning to massage the water droplets that clung to your skin like morning dew. He tilled the earth once more before cleaving the soil. His hands gently guided your legs apart and you looked nervously once more at his cock trying to suppress a whimper.

He stroked your inner thigh, shushing with each pass. “ Non si agiti. Do not be afraid. You must relax.” Pressing a kiss inside your knee, he continued his parting. You swallowed hard as he lined the thick head of his cock up with your entrance. His hands massaged and pulled at the muscles in the creases of your thighs, stretching you as he slid himself in, never rushing, never hurrying. You winced at the ache only once before he bottomed out. Gentle hands guided you once more, taking your right hand in his to wrap around what wouldn’t fit. “ Good girl. Take all of your Papa.”

Your hand tensed as he moved over you, blocking the hazy orange light that glowed from the ceiling. He growled at the reflex and gave a shallow thrust. You whimpered as you fought the urge to cum from just how thick he was.

“La tua fica è stata mandata dall'inferno. Così stretto,” he growled. He pumped in and out slowly, letting you adjust, spreading your dripping arousal into your hand. He grunted softly as he worked in and out of your hand and cunt. His nostrils flared, pushing faster and harder in the humidity. His white eye burned in a new fire, one that you’d never seen all those times in the chapel or even that summer afternoon in the garden. It burned and plummeted past the side of your face, searing your cheek as he rutted to sow his seed.

“Is this what you wanted, little bird?” he panted against your ear. It was the first time you realized the smell of mint wafting about him.

The ‘yes’ was stuffed down with an anguished cry as his hips dragged up against your clit. His breath came fast at this, at you.

 “I wanted to call for you next week. My ghoul saw you watching. How did he put it?” A savoring kiss to your neck sent shivers up your spine as he thought. “Ah… yes,” he hissed. “‘She watches you like a sad dog.’”

You yelped as he shoved your left leg up against your chest, nails digging in as he hit a new depth.

“ He asked me if he should take care of you,” he continued, not minding the tears that spilled down your cheeks and onto his. “It seems la colomba wanted me to take care of her instead.”

“I’m sorry.” It was quiet, but it stopped him.

“Are you ashamed of your desire, little bird?”

You didn’t answer that.

He scooped you up and set you astride him. You watched as the orange glow highlighted the corners of his mouth set into a hard line. “I will have you, but only if you can rid yourself of shame here.”

You looked down and away, but he gripped your chin forcing you to look him in the eye. His fingers dug in hard enough to press the insides of your cheeks to the sharp edge of your teeth

“You will fuck yourself on my cock, or you will leave. The Olde One rewards greed, Sister, and so do I.”

Laying your hands on his age-thinned shoulders, you raised your hips a few inches. The hardline crooked up into a smile as you sank down onto his cock and into your sin. The greed wrapped itself like a cloak around your body, banishing the anxious chill. You needed this. You needed him. “Papa...”

“Hm?” He looked up at you, pleased.

“I want to be your bird,” you whimpered as you sank yourself down on him again.

“Many siblings want to be my bird…Fuck.” His nails dug into your hips as you took him as deep as you could. The same muscles that had forced you to come undone were digging their claws into you, insisting you keep the pace that you had set, if not begging you to speed up.

Your pained whine flowered into a desperate moan as you felt yourself clench around him. The muscles in your thighs ached as you angled and tried to chase your high, not even bothering to hide just how good the stretch of his cock made you feel. The moans and cries filled the sauna and the warm wood soaked them in greedily like thirsty soil.

“Canta per me, uccellino. Dimmi come hai bisogno che la tua fica bisognosa venga riempita del seme di tuo Papa.”

Was this really what you had wished for all those days in the kitchen? The way his eyes bored into you, seeing you for the first time, all of his attention on you. And yet you knew that you were not special. There was nothing special about a wild bird that looked inside of the window and dreamed of life inside of a gilded cage, being fondled and caressed by a caring master. What a stupid bird to subject yourself to all the scrutiny that came with a cage and perch, and yet…

You felt your high so close on the heels of your distracting thoughts and you couldn’t help the way you pushed yourself just a little bit more. Your voice came high and sweet, “Papa I’m going to come!”

“Right on time,” he smiled as you fucked your swollen cunt on him. “Come for your Papa, uccellino.”

His sweet words of encouragement are all you need to come undone. You cry, drawing sharp breaths of humid air as you look at him. He watched you so intently, mouth agape at the beauty that was turned into a pathetic mess at his command. His hands guided your hips in working through your orgasm, even though you wanted nothing more than to stop and savor every contraction. The sensations drove the tears to your eyes and your lip quivered as you dig your own nails into his shoulders.

The pinch of your talons must have been the final push as his guidance slowed and halted and you swear you could taste the salt as he sowed his seed. His sunken chest heaved with effort as you felt the hot ropes of him soak you completely. He was perfect like this, and everything you wanted: heaving, panting, and devoted to the moment of just you.

But even your unconventional ways had their limits. Prying yourself from him, you tried your best to walk back and grab your towel, cunt aching from the stretch and abuse, seed dripping down and mixing with the sweat on your thighs. Fuck it was hot in here. There was an external relief in being freed from the heat of him and an internal want to curl back into his arms. A hand around your wrist spoke to the latter.

“Uccellino.” He rose to address you, thumb coming up to lovingly caress your cheek. You tried to look away from his eyes, but they held you in the need to know of his approval. “Tonight. I dine at 7. Do not be late. I know you can keep time.” A short smile and one final swipe before he sinks back into the cedar wood, shutting his eyes in contentment. It’s as if you had never even been there, and your signal to leave. You wrap the towel around your trembling body and head out into the morning mist, darkness offering you refuge from the heat that now burned within you at the thought of tonight.

Translations:

Scusa- Excuse me

una suora- A sister

Gli uccellini raramente sono così nascosti come pensano- Little birds are rarely as hidden as they think

Dimmi, bambina- Tell me, child.

Vieni qui, colomba- Come here, dove

Rilassati, bambina- Relax, child.

Colomba- Dove

Sì proprio così. Voglio che la tua fica sia bella e bagnata per il mio cazzo- Yes just like this. I want your pussy nice and wet for my cock.

Assaggia te stessa, bambina mia- Taste yourself, my child

Bene- Good.

Non si agiti.- Do not be nervous.

La tua fica è stata mandata dall'inferno. Così stretto- Your pussy is sent from hell. So tight.

Canta per me, uccellino. Dimmi come hai bisogno che la tua fica bisognosa venga riempita del seme di tuo Papa- Sing to me, little bird. Tell me how you need your needy pussy filled with your Papa's seed.

Uccellino- Little bird.

[seungminsbaldspot]

Our own Gallary

Pairing:  Jun x Reader 

Synopsis: its your first anniversary with your lover, wen junhui 

Spoiler: no spoiler for this one!

Word Count: 2,063

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff probably 

Warnings: cursing, just lots of fluff, Nicknames such as but not limited to “My love, Lover, My lover” , reader is an artsy person (loves to paint, and visit art museums) 

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BESTEST FRIEND EVER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOURE SO OLD HAHAHAH

“Wake up my love.” A kind, gentle voice says, and your eyes immensely flutter open. As your eyes flutter open, you are met with the man of your dreams. And your reality too. 

Wen JunHui is your lover. And has officially been your lover for one year now. Jun had previously told you that he was going to go all out for your first anniversary together, and he was not lying. 

When your brain focuses, you can smell the breakfast that Jun had prepared for you. “Breakfast my love.” He softly says, motioning towards the door. You always stood firmly by brushing your teeth after breakfast so, rolling out of bed and eating was not anything abnormal. 

Jun leads you to the table, where your favorite breakfast foods await you. “I prepared them this morning. I hope you enjoy them.” You smile softly at the tall man in front of you, kissing him on the cheek, “Thank you, my love.” He smiles, “Anything for you.” He says, sitting across from you, also eating his breakfast. 

Once breakfast was eaten, Jun stood up, “Now would you like to sleep again or go out?” He asked. “Sleep in, as always.” He smiles, “I knew you were going to say that. Go ahead and lie down. Let me clean these dishes and then I will be in there with you my love.” You nod, What a good man Wen Junhui is. 

As to his promise, after hearing the running after stopping, you feel the spot in the mattress beside you dip down. You feel his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you tightly to him. His warmth lulls you back to sleep. 

After an hour or so, Jun decides to wake you up once again, “My love?” He says, gently shaking you to wake you. Your eyes flutter open again, waking you to the beautiful man you call your lover. 

“We have the smallish bit of schedule to attend to.” Jun says, patting your head like a child. You only hum in response. You love it when Jun schedules dates and he has a bit of an itinerary to attend to. 

With a soft smile, you stretch and sit up, feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. Jun hands you a cup of your favorite tea or coffee, perfectly brewed just the way you like it. The aroma fills the room, making the awakening even more pleasant.

As you sip your drink, Jun hands you a carefully crafted envelope. Inside, there's a mini itinerary for the day, detailing the surprises he has in store for you. The excitement builds as you read through the plans, and you can't help but marvel at Jun's thoughtfulness. 

The first item on the agenda is a visit to a nearby botanical garden. Jun has chosen this serene location for a romantic stroll amidst blooming flowers and lush greenery. Hand in hand, you explore the garden, occasionally stopping for Jun to surprise you with a heartfelt compliment or a gentle kiss.

After the botanical garden stroll, Jun has planned Lunch at a cozy restaurant with an amazing view. Jun has reserved a table by the window, allowing you to enjoy a delightful meal while taking in a scenic backdrop. The atmosphere is perfect for engaging in conversations and sharing laughter as you relish the delicious cuisine.

In such a pleasant setting, time seems to slow down, allowing you to fully immerse yourselves in the moment. The combination of good company, delicious food, and a scenic backdrop creates a lasting memory that you can cherish. 

As the afternoon unfolds, Jun leads you to a charming art studio where a painting class is about to begin. The studio is filled with natural light, and the scent of acrylic paints lingers in the air. The atmosphere is relaxed, fostering creativity and expression.

As you enter the studio, you notice an easel set up with a blank canvas, paintbrushes of various sizes, and an array of vibrant colors. Soft music plays in the background, adding to the soothing ambiance. Jun, with a warm smile, reveals that this painting class was chosen because of your shared love for art and creativity.

The instructor welcomes both of you and provides guidance on the painting project for the day. The subject is a beautiful landscape, and you feel a sense of excitement as you prepare to unleash your artistic talents. Jun and you share laughter and conversation as you dip your brushes into the paint and bring the canvas to life.

Throughout the class, you and Jun exchange tips, share thoughts on color choices and marvel at each other's unique interpretations of the landscape. The shared experience strengthens your connection and the love that the two of you have for each other. 

As the painting class comes to an end, you step back to admire the finished masterpieces. You're amazed at the beauty that emerged from a blank canvas, and at the beauty of the man before you. At the man who you love.

After the class, Jun planned on visiting the nearby art gallery to continue this wonderful anniversary date. As you walk hand in hand with Jun into the art gallery, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and joy. The atmosphere is filled with anticipation and the promise of a delightful anniversary date. Jun's gesture of holding your hands and swinging them adds an extra layer of intimacy, making the experience even more special.

"I know you have been wanting to visit here for a while, my love," Jun says with a gentle smile. You return the smile, appreciating the effort he's put into planning this meaningful day. "This place is beautiful, Jun," you express, genuinely touched by the thoughtful surprise.

He hums in response, a contented sound that reflects the shared excitement of exploring the art gallery together. The two of you make your way to the section featuring sculptures, and Jun takes the lead. The room is filled with an array of three-dimensional masterpieces, each telling a unique story through form and texture.

Jun stops in front of a particularly striking sculpture and begins to share his thoughts. "Look at how the artist has captured movement and emotion in this piece," he remarks, his eyes reflecting genuine appreciation. You join in the conversation, discussing the intricacies of the sculptures and sharing your own interpretations.

Jun, with a keen understanding of your preferences, leads the way to a section featuring contemporary paintings. As you enter the space, you're immediately drawn to the vibrant colors, bold strokes, and intriguing narratives conveyed by the artworks on display. Jun smiles, pleased that he could tailor this part of the visit to your favorite art exhibits.

"Thought you might enjoy these," he says, gesturing towards the canvases that adorn the walls. The paintings range from abstract expressions to thought-provoking realism, each piece telling a unique story. Together, you begin to explore the details and nuances of the contemporary art on display.

Jun, knowing your appreciation for the finer points in art, points out subtleties you might have missed. The two of you engage in a lively conversation about the meanings behind the paintings, the techniques employed by the artists, and the emotions evoked by the different pieces. The gallery becomes a canvas of shared exploration and connection.

As you move from one painting to another, Jun's thoughtful choice of the contemporary art section enhances your overall gallery experience. You feel a sense of gratitude for having someone who not only values your interests but actively participates in them, making this anniversary date all the more special.

As you and Jun continue your exploration of the art gallery, you come across a section dedicated to photography. Jun's eyes light up with excitement as he discovers this part of the exhibition, and you can see the genuine enthusiasm in his expression. It's clear that the prospect of delving into the world of photographic storytelling resonates with him.

Jun leads you to the photographs, each frame capturing a moment frozen in time, telling its own unique story. The images range from candid shots to carefully composed scenes, showcasing the diverse perspectives of the photographers. Jun takes a moment to absorb the visual narratives, and then he turns to you with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"Photography has this incredible way of capturing emotions and stories in a single frame," he comments, his enthusiasm contagious. "Let's take our time and appreciate each one." The two of you begin to explore the photographs, discussing the composition, lighting, and the emotions conveyed by the images.

As you delve deeper into the visual stories, you find yourselves sharing personal interpretations and connecting with the photographers' perspectives. The photographic exhibit becomes a space for contemplation and conversation, adding another layer to your artistic journey.

Jun's genuine interest in the photographs enhances the experience, and you appreciate how this shared exploration deepens your connection. The gallery visit becomes not just a celebration of art but a celebration of the unique bond you share—a bond that finds expression in the stories told through both paintbrush strokes and the click of a camera shutter.

You really did love this man. 

As you both exit the gallery, Jun gently reminds you of the next surprise he has in store. The anticipation builds as you wonder what delightful dinner plans he has arranged for the evening. The thoughtfulness he put into the art gallery visit makes you even more eager to discover what awaits you.

You follow Jun to the dinner location, and as you arrive, you're greeted by a cozy ambiance and the enticing aroma of delicious food. The evening unfolds with shared laughter, delightful cuisine, and the joy of being in each other's company. The celebration of your love continues, seamlessly blending the appreciation of art with the warmth of shared moments.

In the quiet moments between courses, you reflect on the day and realize how much Jun's thoughtfulness and shared experiences have deepened your connection. The celebration goes beyond the material surprises, becoming a beautiful symphony of shared interests, love, and genuine companionship.

As the evening comes to an end, you can't help but feel grateful for the wonderful person by your side. The gallery visit and the carefully planned dinner become cherished memories, woven into the fabric of your relationship. You find yourself falling in love with Jun all over again, appreciating the effort he puts into making your time together truly special.

After the wonderful dinner, Jun holds your hand, guiding you to a little park across the street. He stops underneath a tree, turning and facing you. As Jun holds your hand, there's a warmth in his touch that reflects the genuine connection you share. His eyes, filled with affection, meet yours. The quiet rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the city create a serene backdrop for what promises to be a special moment.

With a gentle smile, Jun begins to express his feelings, "Tonight has been incredible, and every moment with you feels like a work of art. From the gallery to this moment under the tree, I wanted to create memories that reflect the beauty and depth of what we have."

He pauses, allowing the words to settle in the air. The love and care he put into planning this anniversary celebration are evident, and you find yourself moved by his sincerity.

"I love you," Jun says, his voice carrying the weight of those three words. "And I look forward to many more moments like these, where we can continue creating our own gallery of memories."

The park, the tree, and the city lights bear witness to this declaration of love. In this quiet corner of the world, you and Jun share a moment that feels timeless, a chapter in the ongoing story of your relationship. “You’ve made this night literally so perfect. Not even just this night, this whole day. I have no idea how I was so lucky to end up with a man like you.” 

As you respond with your own feelings, the night becomes a canvas for the emotions you've shared, and the love you feel for each other deepens beneath the branches of the tree, in this little park that now holds a special place in your hearts.

tags: @todorokikettlephobia aka Kia aka my love aka my bestie aka my wife aka my pookie aka my bear aka my mate aka my boo aka my boo bear aka my honey bunches of oats aka my favorite sweater aka my favorite flavor aka my dear aka my…

[punchydraws]

A Race In The Night

(This is a (late -w-) gift for @thatghostlystuff‘s birthday! I hope you like it! ^w^

P.S. It’s got pictures! ;3c)

The wind swirls around the dark forest...

Snatcher finds himself soaring throughout the starry skies, his booming laughter trailing after him as he rushed ahead.

See, today, he was playing a game! A game that had him and the other participant test who the fastest truly was for a special prize. Dipping low past the branches of spiny trees, he peered behind him to see if his playmate was still keeping up.

Just then, with the roar of an scooter’s engine and the delightful laughter of a little girl, Hat Kid flew over the hill. The scooter’s headlight blinded him for a second. Shaking the stars that formed in his vision away, he continued his flying along the path.

“Just give up, kid! You’re just not good enough to best your old man!” He called back, his grin growing ever wider.

“In your dreams!” The child called back, leaning over the handlebars to blow a raspberry at him.

He let out a small chuckle when he saw her have to fix her scooter's angle when her pose had shifted-making her tilt slightly to the right and almost slam into a tree.

Snatcher took this time to rush forwards, gaining a bit of distance from the kid during this. He then shot upwards, breaching over the treetops again, leaves whipping his as he began to see his home in its entirety.

He paused for a second, as foolish as the Hare racing the Tortoise, but he couldn’t help but stop and stare out at his beautiful forest.

It hadn’t always looked like this. The dying blue trees, the skeleton boat, the thick purple swamp... No, it had looked much different when he was younger- Or, when he was still alive.

He had grown a love for the way it had looked now, feeling a sense of peace and tranquility rush over him every time he took it all in. He didn’t remember how long ago he had first felt this... How many years he had finally felt at home in this place again?

When did it start again? At what time had it stopped? Did it ever? Even after everything? How old was he when this feeling of calm and serenity had settled deep into his bones again?

It seemed like forever ago. How long in actual terms, he'd never know. Counting his age held no meaning to him anymore once the numbers started to pile up.

...Which also meant birthdays had become obsolete to him now! And when both Hat Kid and Bow Kid has found this out, they just couldn’t accept it. ---- It was only a bit ago they were sitting on the massive pillow pile. He had been reading a new book he brought, ‘How to Raise Your Space Children’. He had disguised it as something else, as to not break his ‘scary, uncaring’ persona.

What? He couldn’t let them find out he actually CARED or something! Unthinkable!

Though, the more he read, he was starting to become sure that this book was more a “Science-Fiction” story. Not really the helpful how-to guide he had hoped it would be. Bummer.

He didn’t remember how they had gotten to the topic of HIS birthday, having only listened absentmindedly. He remembered the kiddos chattering excitedly about their upcoming birthdays, making his own mental notes and plans for their gifts, and now Hat Kid had broken him out of his thoughts by shouting.

“You’re HOW OLD and you haven’t had a birthday since when?!”

Ah. He must have said something while he was reading. Now he remembered. Whoops...

“Oh!! We should celebrate YOUR birthday with ours!!” Bow Kid piped up.

“Yeah!! With all the candles on the cake, it’ll be a total fire hazard!!”

“I doubt Cooking Cat will let us even HAVE that many candles, Hat...”

“We gotta!! For Snatcher!“

“We aren’t celebrating my birthday, kiddos.” He finally decided to add in, not really interested in hearing this pan out much longer.

“Aww!!” The kiddos both whined. Snatcher could only roll his eyes, hiding a chuckle under a huff.

“Why not?? It’d be super fun!” Hat Kid asked, flopping back down into her side of the pillow pile.

“If you’re worried about us being upset, we don’t mind sharing our birthday with you! Hat and I ALWAYS share our birthday parties! We're like the bestest of friends! And you’re like our family!” Bow Kid added in, settling back down in her throne of pillows.

Snatcher looked over at the two, and saw them giving him gigantic puppy dog eyes... Oh no. One of his greatest weaknesses...

It took a lot of mental power, but he eventually responded.

“No dice, kid. Haven’t celebrated my birthday since I died, and I’m not about to start again now.” He punctuated with a sharp turn of the page, “Besides, I’m too old to really celebrate anymore.”

“TOO OLD FOR BIRTHDAYS?!” Hat Kid practically shrieked, pulling at her own hair in disbelief.

“THERE’S NO WAY!!” Bow gasped.

Snatcher grimaced at how loud they had gotten, and only shoved his face deeper into his book. He wasn’t even reading anymore, mostly just trying to seem busy in order to get the kids off his back.

After a bit of silence, he slowly allowed himself to get engrossed into his story again. What he didn't notice was the kiddos whispering a plan between themselves. If only he hadn't let it all filter out as background noise, he could have known what the two were so intent on planning and stopped it in its tracks.

After a bit of murmuring, Hat shuffled and climbed over hills of pillows over to him.

When he looked over to see what she was doing, he saw her electric blue eyes staring down at him, her hand extended to shake.

“How about a deal?” ---- That’s how he had currently found himself racing Hat kid through Subcon Forest. If the kid won, then her and Bow got to celebrate Snatcher’s birthday with them, and if HE won... He got some free contracts and spring cleaning done around his home.

Well, that’s what WOULD have happened... If he actually let himself join back in the race.

But he knew deep down he couldn’t.

He knew the kiddos were desperate to throw him a party- and how could he say no to his two newly, all but legally, adopted children?

They cared about him, and if they weren’t allowed to do something nice for him, they’d be heartbroken...

They were still just kids after all.

No, he’d much rather make it seem like they won than make them upset they couldn’t share something they found so special with him. Even if birthdays in particular still left a sore spot.

He watched the forest below, seeing the scooter’s headlight trek through along the path.

If he wanted to, he could have bolted to the end right this second and won.

He watched as it passed by him and went ahead.

He could, but he wouldn’t.

...Besides, they’d probably just do something even MORE extraordinary and over-the-top otherwise! And Snatcher couldn’t have THAT breaking into his peaceful hours, now could he?

He finally slunk back into the trees, joining back in the race once the kid was a good distance away from him.

They were almost at the place Bow was waiting with the Subconites as judges.

He saw Hat Kid look back to see him trailing behind, a smile of victory on her face.

He tried not to let his emotion show. Don't smile, don't smile- Oh, when had he become so soft?!

“YOU SNOOZE YOU LOOSE, DAD!” Hat Kid yelled, snapping him out of his thoughts. She disappeared over the top of the hill afterwards.

He couldn’t help but feel his own smile grow at that, pride welling up in his heart.

Maybe he could learn to like birthdays again. Especially since he had such good kiddos to spend it with.

[besidemethewholedamntime]

only the moon shall know 

For the wonderful @libbyweasley for your birthday. Happy Birthday!! I hope you’re having the bestest day which you deserve for being the bestest bean! Thank you so much for all you do and for being you! It wouldn’t be the same without you <3

Summary: 

The memory of him turning her around that sunlit ballroom still haunts her dreams at night, the sound of the violins are what she wakes up to in the morning. It’s almost winter now, the sun is no longer here as much as it was, and it makes it easier to forget during the day. But her mind is not as strong in her dreams, it is much more careless, and it makes it easier to remember the feeling of his hands on her waist, or the way her looked at her as he gently spun her around and told her that he didn’t want her to go."

Jemma longs for Fitz bit maybe, finally, something can be done. A sequel to 'the last sunlit walk'. 

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

“The books you ordered have arrived, my lady. I’ve already had them carried to the library.”

“Thank you very much, Lucy. That will be all.”

Jemma watches the maid go and then turns back to the letter she’s been trying to draft for hours now. If she thinks about it it’s really been days. Over and over again she writes the beginning, but when she gets past that her mind goes blank and suddenly it’s like standing in front of someone and having no idea what to say, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Dear Fitz,

I hope

The four words, black ink on ivory paper, stare back at her, mocking her in their simplicity. What does she hope? She hopes that he is well, that he is not suffering too greatly from the breaking of his engagement and that he has found a way to help his family. It seems so simple to put that in a letter, to write what she has been trying to write for the past three months now, but it’s all going so terrible wrong.

It’s her own fault – she left writing the letter too late. If she had just written it as soon as she heard, as soon as the society whispers sent it across to her, then it would have been better. But she hadn’t. She had sat on the knowledge, stewed on it, and the weeks had passed and in order to escape her thoughts she had left her comfortable estate in Yorkshire and went to Hillfoot house which had a village and a farm, and was also far enough away from everything that might dared to remind her of Fitz.

The memory of him turning her around that sunlit ballroom still haunts her dreams at night, the sound of the violins are what she wakes up to in the morning. It’s almost winter now, the sun is no longer here as much as it was, and it makes it easier to forget during the day. But her mind is not as strong in her dreams, it is much more careless, and it makes it easier to remember the feeling of his hands on her waist, or the way her looked at her as he gently spun her around and told her that he didn’t want her to go.

She has come back now, to her estate and to her life. She must resume. Life could only be paused for so long. She has come back with many resolutions, and one of those is writing to Fitz. He has no fiancée yet, she understands, and if he did, she wouldn’t write to him. She couldn’t hurt him like that. However, while he is still free, before he is engaged once again, she wants to write to him and offer an arm of friendship. She wants him to know that she still cares.

This is why she is here, sat at her writing desk in her study as opposed to in the library reading the new books she has ordered. It is why she is not in her greenhouse, consulting with her gardener about how their joint fertiliser experiment is coming along. It is why, every night, she looks out her window at the moon and sends up a silent message, hoping that he’s looking up, too, and knows what she’s trying to say.

Except silent messages aren’t what’s needed here. It’s real words, real ink on real paper. Something to be held and for the words to be felt. Something that Fitz can hold and feel and understand that she didn’t have a choice when she left him on that summer night, and that she very much wish she did.

It would have killed her. It would have been like having her heart dug out of her chest with a spoon. His fiancée was vicious, with perfect black hair and piercing blue eyes and a grin that always seemed slightly feral. To see Fitz married to such a woman, knowing how unhappy he would be, and knowing how happy she and Fitz could have been together in another life would have frayed her every nerve.

Duty. Such an old-fashioned thing. A thing cooked-up by men to make themselves feel better as they plundered villages and made an Empire. It’s our duty she bets they cried. A notion that made its way into society and somehow became entangled with marriage. It’s not for love one marries, Jemma, Hunter’s mother had said during the summer, her eyebrows raised as she sat with her embroidery hoop. It’s for England. For the land.

People used duty as a way to make others miserable, to excuse the things they had done, and Fitz had been no different. Only she couldn’t hate him for it, couldn’t despise what she despised in others who used the same excuse. His father had died, leaving them penniless, and he wanted to ensure that his mother and his home were cared for. How could she hate a man like that? And he had made no secret of it, of the fact that he was looking to wed for money. Jemma had to admire that, as much as she had detested the vultures that has come circling when it was announced, all of them hoping to be the one so save the handsome Lord Leopold Fitz from financial ruin, and themselves become a Countess in the process.

It had been Hunter who had told her. Hunter who had come to ask her guardians if Jemma would be permitted to stay with his family for the summer, to make the whole thing more bearable. They’re animals, Jemma, he had told her on the train, sitting in their first-class compartment. The whole stinking lot of them. Animals. He’ll be so miserable. That’s partly the reason I’m bringing you to stay. I think you’ll make it better for him.

Jemma had wrinkled her nose, she remembers that, and had told her cousin very clearly that she would not be a pawn in some game. She had never met Fitz, though she had heard he was charming enough, but that was besides the point. She did not exist to make some man feel better and if that’s all Hunter wanted her for then she was getting off at the next station and going straight home.

She would have done it. Lately she’s been thinking about that moment often, when she was glaring at Hunter across the compartment, eyes narrowed. In that moment she wasn’t sure herself if she would have had the gall to do it but now she is and knows she would have. Hunter had just laughed and reached for her hand, and told her that having her in his house made it much more bearable for him, too.

It’s funny because it hurts, terribly so, and yet she wouldn’t take it back. Those moments she and Fitz had together over the long months she stayed with Hunter and his family. The walks they took, the expeditions in the large wood around his home. The knowing looks they shared over dinner.  Even when his fiancée had come, with her unblinking eyes and porcelain skin, these moments had not abated. Rather they became more important. Fitz was sinking and these were the only life rings she could offer him before he was pulled beneath the waves.

She had to leave though, she did. He had to try and be happy with his marriage and he was never going to try if Jemma were there. She would have left soon, anyway, and gone back to Yorkshire when the weather had cooled and nobody was quite as much fun, but even before they danced together on that halcyon summer evening, she knew she had to leave before the wedding. Jemma considers herself a strong woman, but to watch someone she loves commit themselves to a lifetime of pain and heartache would be beyond what she could have borne.

Her parents died when she was small, and her father, beyond the times, arranged it so that it all went to her. The lands, the estates, the shares he had in various companies all came to his only daughter. Jemma does quite well for herself and everybody thinks so, even the guardians who must do their job until she turns twenty-five. Even still it’s not enough. She used to dream of using her wealth and status to help, she has more than enough, but successful though she is, she can’t help the one person she wants to with all her heart and it makes it hang heavy in her chest.

It was Hunter’s mother who let it slip, who told her that, if things had been different, there had once been a plan to marry the ‘Simmons girl and the Fitz boy.’ That was how his mother had described it. If the elder Lord Fitz hadn’t let money drip from his fingers as if it were water then one day, she may have married his son.

“She didn’t need to know that,” Hunter had told his mother, eyes blazing across the dining table. “You didn’t need to tell her that.”

“What does it matter if she knows now or not?” The woman had said, unhappy at being spoken to like that in her own house by her own son. “The time for it has come and gone and now the two of them must remain.”

The time for it has come and gone. Yes, Jemma supposes it has.

“My lady?”

Jemma looks up to see Lucy, one of her favourite maids, standing at the door once again.

“Yes? Is everything alright?”

“There’s a letter here for you, my lady. Delivered something urgent from the station boy.”

Jemma frowns. “Pardon me?”

“Apparently it was given to someone on the train who then gave it to the station master who then gave it to the station boy to bring up here.” Lucy looks puzzled as she recounts the tale she’s clearly not sure of herself. “Something about it being faster than the postal service, my lady.”

“A letter you say?”

Lucy nods. “Yeah, my lady. I have it here for you.”

She brings it in on a silver tray and bobs as she steps back. Jemma dismisses her with a wave of her fingers and the girl is gone by the time she picks up the letter. It’s Hunter’s handwriting, that much she knows, and the sight of it makes her heart seize up tightly in her chest. Hunter is a man who doesn’t believe in speed, and for him to send this letter with such urgency makes her quite afraid.

With trembling hands she gets her letter opener and carefully, so as not to tear the precious contents, she tears open the envelope. It’s not a thick letter, nor terribly long, but the handwriting only worsens as she unfolds the paper.

Jemma,

I have no time to write anything eloquent, and you should know that’s not how I do things anyway. I’m writing this with urgency, I’m afraid. He told me not to tell you, made me swear it, and I’m not a man to break my word but in this instance, I feel I have to, but unfortunately my decision comes what could be cutting it very close to ‘too late’.

He’s getting married again, Fitz that is. A rushed wedding but that’s hardly a surprise. They called the banns and planned it all with very little fanfare – I suppose the poor chap is still somewhat traumatised from what happened last time – but it looks set to happen. It’s the same equation, one gets money and one gets power. This one isn’t as awful, she is dull but has an ambitious family, very nouveau riche, and it’s caused quite the scandal amongst the mothers, I can tell you. My own is simply horrified. However, that is besides the point. The point is that she’s not terrible, and it’s why I have put off writing as long as I have but I can do it no longer. I have very little self-control.

You must come, Jemma. You simply have to come. You have to come and you have to stop him before he makes this terrible mistake. He’s going to be so miserable, Jemma. Absolutely bloody miserable for the rest of his life if I allow him to go through with this. He won’t listen, though. You know how he is. He won’t listen to me or his mother or his servants or anybody else who candidly tells him that he’s being a right pillock and doing something that nobody wants for him. He’ll only listen to you. You must understand. It’s only you.

You said it yourself, that duty is nonsense and is made up by archaic men to justify the horrible things they’ve done in the world. Well then come. Come and tell my stubborn friend that. Come and tell him that nobody wants him to do this. Nobody wants him to be in pain and alone which is what he will end up. Tell him that duty is pointless but love is not. Duty will not remember the sacrifices made in its name but love is enduring. Isn’t that what you said?

This letter has become a rambling mess but I have very little time, my own fault I can assure you. I have enclosed a train ticket so all that you need to do is hop on. You left some clothes here last time according to Mrs. Hallington, so there’s no need for you to pack. Just get on the train, Jemma, and stop the man you love from making this dreadful mistake.

The wedding is in two days but hurry still, please. Knowing the awful luck the cosmos seems to have for both of you it seems like a bad decision to dawdle.

Yours,

Lance Hunter  

The ticket falls out of the envelope and Jemma stares at it on her lap and wonders what it all means. She only prepared herself mentally to write the letter and perhaps even have it posted. She was not prepared for this and if there’s one thing she detests in this world it’s a lack of preparation.

It’s only you.

It’s only Fitz for her. There will be nobody else whom she could ever love the way she loves him, that much she is sure of. But does she have the right to do this? Does she have the right to turn to Fitz and ask him to choose her above all else, knowing that she was the one who turned away?

But Hunter’s letter conveys surety as well as urgency, that Fitz is making a dreadful mistake, and she must ask herself if she could stand idly by and let it happen, knowing as much as she does now. Her cousin has asked her, begged her, to stop Fitz from doing this and could she honestly turn away once again and live with that for the rest of her life?

“Lucy?” She calls, looking down at the letter, heart in her throat, knowing the girl will be in the hallway somewhere. “Lucy? Come here a moment, would you? I need you to-”

She is cut off by the clearing of a throat that is decidedly male and looks up and sees it to be her butler. Trained by those in His Majesty’s Household, Mr Parsons is known for his excellent moustache and being decidedly stoic. No matter how long Jemma is gone these things never change. Yet today the moustache quivers slightly at the ends, and Mr Parsons’ face is uneasy.

“Excuse me, your ladyship,” he begins, the deep voice quivering slightly at the ends, too. “There are lawyers here. They wish to see you.”

“Lawyers?” Jemma feels her eyebrows pinch together, and her head swims. “What lawyers?”

“I do not know, your ladyship. They request to see you immediately.”

Mr Parsons’ tone suggests that they took a tone to him, unsuitable for a man of such an esteemed position in the household. Today, however, she cannot find it within herself to feel sorry for him.

“I have to go, Parsons. I’m terribly sorry but I have to go.” She breaks off helplessly as the man’s face doesn’t change, and she realises whatever it is must be of equal importance to this. She sighs. “Very well. Send them to the library and I shall be down in a minute.”

She places the letter down, trying so very hard not to betray her hurry when every cell in her body is screaming at her to go.

-x-

After her meeting, head still spinning, she tears into the study like a hurricane.

“Your bags are packed, my lady,” Lucy says, hurrying in after her. “There’s a car waiting to take you to the station.”

Station? Oh, yes, to go and rescue Fitz from saving himself from financial ruin. How funny that this isn’t the strangest thing to happen to her today. Not any longer.

“Thank you very much, Lucy,” Jemma says absent-mindedly. “I’m just looking for the letter. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

Lucy’s in the middle of shaking her head when a footman comes into the room, looking awfully harried, and Jemma hazards that he might have just been told off by her formidable butler.

“Eh, the car’s ready, milady,” he stammers, turning bright red. “’E says ‘e’s got to go right now.”

“Never mind then,” Jemma says, grabbing her coat and her gloves. “Onwards we go.” Her voice is a lot calmer than her stomach but she is a master of swallowing her emotions. With a tight nod at her two servants, she swishes on out the door.

The draught in her wake causes papers to fly off her desk, the letter soaring up and then settling gently on the ground like snow.

[mellowgirl01]

🍷Sweet Wine🍷

masterlist: part 5

🔞🔞❌Warning❌🔞🔞: 

gun violence and blood but only for a second, also death

Wordcount:  3258

characters: 16237

People: Adam x Y/N x Eve

Made for: @ladyfluff

tag: @may-bereblog @jaquellejohnson @ladyfluff @mousee555 @eternaloroborus @starkeeper43 

Request:No

Date:3/19/19

Summary: Everything dies, it’s how we deal with death is what matters

A/N: I more than highly apologize for taking forever and a fucking day! but a lot has been happening that i’d rather not talk about. My real life is going though a rough patch and I had to take some time from being creative. But I got off my ass and wanted to leave you guys with something special. for the last and finnal part to chapter 3. Here it is and even though it’s sad i’ll makeup for it this up and coming weekend. Once again I apologize and I hope you have fun reading my tragic ending. xoxo-Mellow

Walking around the house Adam  was making sure that everything was perfect. From the music to the decor. Along with the help of  Y/N, Sarrah, and luther. This night was to be a special one. Adam knew that Eve had always wanted a special surprise birthday party. Y/N was sure that Adam and Eve were hermits at this point but in fact they had many many friends from around the world. Both vampire and non. As usual Eve over the years was a very confident butterfly while Adam more so liked the quiet life. For his Eve Adam would do anything so he decided to make it a surprise while Eve was away on a trip. He sent as many letters and pleads to Eve’s many many many friends and called them all out from the many corners of the world, and soon they would be coming down any way they could to dear old London. Now all he hopped was that she liked all that he had done. Y/N could always sense when he was becoming nervous or to hard upon himself. He had a habit of doing it but this time around he let up on himself a lot more. He didn’t want to worry his loved ones so he took better care of himself. Y/N took his hand in hers and squeezed it in hers.

“Everything is beautiful Adam. I know that she’ll love it just as much as we love you.”

“What will there be to drink?”

Sarrah cocked her head to the side.

Adam didn’t really think about that one and almost panicked but calm down once Luther came into the ballroom.

“Don’t worry sir I have that all under control. I’ll need your help though Sarrah since this event is very special i’ll need for you to make sure that your in your bestes. Same goes for you madam.”

Luther gave Y/N a warm smile through his thick upper mustache. She smiled back

“Oh no need to fill your head with doubt you old coup I know what i’m doing here. How many times shall I remind you all that my sense in style should never ever be tested, I will rise up above the line every time.”

“Indeed you do. Speaking of which you girls go and look beautiful. I’ll make sure of it that i will save you 2 dances my little love.”

Adam stroked Y/N’s left cheek with his lace glove. She like melted into his inviting touch  taking his hand and kissing the back of it.

“I accept nothing but. You man try not to hurt yourselves.”

Adam chuckled at this and went with Luther to get ready and talk more about what will happen tonight.

“He sure is one dashing control freak. I love him all the same no matter.”

“Please stop saying that like I don’t see and know that you and Eve love him deeply. Your starting to make me puke...Have you gave it thought though?”

“I’m sure you know something i don't about this entire thing?”

“Changing is the so so part. Time will be the only thing you need be worried about.”

“So that’s it hu? No more aging, no more living..What if time isn’t my friend. What will happen when people start to notice.”

“Honestly Y/N, I try hard not to think about such things. As luther and I both get older it gets harder for us all to part. Adam know that luther works way too hard for his age and should rather be retiring here shortly. But Luther is a stubborn old dog. He’ll shoot himself in the foot before he has the chance to walk, but he is never lazy.”

“Do you think he wants immortality?”

“..No, He’s old fashioned but wants to die old fashioned. He said that once Adam gave him the choice to do so with a lady friend that truly did love him. She was beautiful, Red hair and pale skin with greenish blue eyes and freckles all over her body. When she smiled she would blush a little due to her tone.”

“She was a?..”

“Human but she wanted to turn, so she came to Eve for help. Poor thing died before she could even have the chance. He said he would have done it if she did but when she left is when I think his devotion for life did too. So he looks forward to his time, as sad as it will be to see him go he’ll be okay. He gets letters from his family who love him much more than we ever could. So he’s happy with living out his years.”

Y/N nodded

“And you?”

“Yes. I do want to but i’m trying to find a fit time. I don’t want to be young when I change. I want to be 35. Forever a beauty queen,”

“You think a queen is 35?”

“Dear you shouldn’t listen to such nonsense these days about younger is better. Like whine I will age into something and or someone even greater then who I am now, and I don’t know about you but I think that that’s a pretty amazing deal.”

Both the girls giggled and laughed as they got ready for the festive event. From makeup to old and valuable jewels, heals and tons of dresses galore. Once the party was in full motion and everyone who had been asked to come was having much of well a ball, Eve would be pulling up to the house and getting out of the carriage that carried her back to the house. When she heard the music from within the house she was confused and went in to find a slew of her old friends there to great her at the door along with her lovers. Delighted and both overwhelmed with joy she covered her mouth and had a head to her chest as tears weld over her eyes.

“Oh my goodness! What, how did you?”

“Happiest Birthday to you my love. For you I will have a night that can never ever be forgotten.”

Y/N slowly walked up to Eve in her golden dress and sparkling gold jewels and gave Eve a glass of what was to be feasted on that night. As she gently took the glass from her lover, lifting her chin to kiss her darling little bird softly.

“Happy birthday Eve. Remember to save a dance for me.”

“I wouldn’t even dare to enjoy such a special special night without you Y/N. And thank you all for supporting me from afar through these many many years!”

“Let us all enjoy this night as though it is our last!”

The small crowd of people cheered as they turned to head forward to the ballroom. The night was filled with laughs, kisses, hugs from friends and old acquaintances who haven’t seen each other in years. Adam had been in the background of all the festivities as he sat down and talked all night long with Luther and another fellow that he hadn't seen in awhile. After a couple more songs passed by Eve’s favorite song that Adam made came on. As soon as Eve heard the first note she just had to end whatever conversation as quickly as possible and find her lover's to dance. Once she found Y/N she went to go and find Adam to quite literally snatch them away and onto the dance floor. Adam of course not being much of a dancer tried his best to protest but if he was honest with himself Adam was helpless at the sight of his two most beautiful sweets, with there happiest faces on, how could he not be swept onto the dance floor in such a heavenly dream? As all three held each others hands not even letting go once the night seemed like it was a dream. Something that a fairy tale would have. Adam thought himself to be but the richest man of all time. He had everything that he ever needed right here at his fingertips..He would make sure that it would never go away.

Some time passed by and finally the song was over. As everyone clapped at the band and their ability to play until they dropped Y/N spotted Sarah waving her over with some other gentleman and woman. As soon as she got out of Adam and Eve’s sight she snuck over. She don't know why it had to be such a secret since it was a huge party. Yet none-less she thought of it as just some fun. Sarrah introduced her to everyone, there was 3 girls and 4 guys.

“These men here are quite fast so please do be careful to not to lose your way when running.”

“What on Earth are you on about? Are we gonna play a game?”

“Of course. Hide and seek. Now it might be highly childish but trust me when you play with vampires it should be more than exciting!”

2 of the girls seemed to look human still. Looked human. Y/N guessed that they were still awaiting for the right time to be turned just like she was. That and or the right person to turn them. She let the thought go over her head and decided that she would be in too. A tall gentleman the name of Theodore decided to count Y/N and everyone ran off to hide and wait to be found. Y/N tried to find a good enough hiding spot but kept on seeing other people there. Once Sarrah spotted her though the cracked door of the closet that she was in she waved Y/N down to come in with her. The girls kept their voices down to hear any footsteps that were to come near. Sarah smiled at Y/N and bit her lower lip getting closer to her with a smile plastered on her face.

“I found someone tonight. His name is Bellow, He’s so gentle and strong, He’s a painter who lives in paris..And I think that I might be incomplete love with him.”

“That's great!”

“But won’t you miss me? If i go with Bellow..I won’t be able to work here anymore, I would miss this place terribly but.”

“Sarrah, I understand why you came to me really about this matter. It’s nonsense to  hide your true feelings. You are my only true bestest friend in this whole wide world, your the only one who will forever and more have that spot. But Sarrah, I won’t let you miss out on a chance like this. A feeling so rare like this!! Don’t let fear cloud your mind, go for it and see everything this beautiful world has to offer you and him. Live a life that your heart was meant to, wherever that said heart may lead you if it says so then you shall have no regrets in following it. Let your mind become second nature in this very instant of time...I love you Sarah, and while we all will certainly miss you I think the fact that we forced you to stay would have been the most heartbreaking thing of all.”

With tears in her eyes Sarah held IN tight and took a deep breath in..

“Then i’ll do it for me this time.”

The closet door swung open and the girls laughed as Theodore and other girls behind him yelled aloud.

‘FOUND YOU!’

An hour had passed and the game was still on while down at the party there was still much of talking and dancing. Eve and both Adam did wonder where their little lover had gone off too but Luther reassured them to stay downstairs while he went to find them.

Walking up the stair he had seen a man with a mask and a mighty build run towards him. Luther smiled and laughed at the man thinking it was a party guest playing tricks with him but once the man ran full forced into him luther knew that this was no party member. And in fact no friend at all. Fore in the very corner of his eye Luther’s blood went cold seeing a knife in his hands. Raising the man’s blade to the sky and quickly lowering it down Luther tried hard to fight the man off, but he was soon defeated by the the stranger who drew the painful object through his chest. Stopping at nothing since Luther had some strength left in his old bones he raised his knee to the killers crotch sending him rocking back. Who ever this man was he wasn’t going to give up easily until he was satisfied. Taking the blade from Luther’s chest he limped off down the hall to do yet more damage. Tring to open each and every door until he found a room open with glowing light shining through. Sneaking in he saw no one there and decided to hide. Luther on the other hand wasn’t doing so well as he tried his damn hardest to just get up.

Eve saw Adam talking to the constructor of the band to play yet another one of Eve’s favorites. She took it upon herself to go and see what was taking Luther and Y/N so long. When she saw luther she noticed all the blood that he had leaking from his wood and immediately ran to his side.

Y/N and Sarah were still running from place to place trying to find a good enough spot to hide in. Once they saw the open room door they both ran inside. Laughing quietly Y/N decided to sit down on the couch while Sarrah stood to catch her breath. Standing behind her was something even more Evil and harness than ever before. As Sarrah looks to the closest to the right she sees Adam’s door opened and walks over to close it. Y/N turned her head to see what she was doing but in that split second  she saw a tall built man with a gun. It was sadly the very last moment she would see her only Best friend, her lovers, and the people whom she met that night and had the time of her life with..As a light flashed and a loud bang popped off That’s when She knew these would be her last seconds

‘As I saw the bullet fly to me. I had already known who my reaper was. With his hair pushed back and the mask upon his face all that was clear were his eyes filled of empty shame. A man who was broken and had but no soul, no heart, and definitely no head. In that second I felt peace, while he took my life I knew that at this moment to forgive him instead. If this is how I was to die then let my heart be filled with forgiveness. I forgive Maddie, I forgive her husband, And I forgive all of those who I have wronged and who have wronged me. The pain that was made and worked on for many years is gone. The girl who I use to be has now officially passed. And If im sorry to anyone it’t to the lovers I left behind. Without a warning or a shadow of hint that I would be leaving them so cruel but not be it my choice...i’m sorry I wasn’t more careful but I hope that you know I love you and will see you again someday. Even if it takes forever I hope that you Wait for me. As I have waited for you all of my life. Even though our time was short it was filled with bliss..so many memories and love that will always rain on in my mind. Wherever it is that I am going to I also promise to not forget you! Sarrah..poor Sarrah please don’t hesitate now, please live on when i’m gone and be happy. If you do change then smile. We too will meet again soon. And how could i forget you Luther. Wherever you may be I pray that we talk to again. That you find your love and never let her go. Even if I don’t meet you all. Even if this is my last time. I wish no pain upon those who I have been blessed to meet. To live is be free. Once you have been stripped of everything you hold dear and are willing to let go and still look your killer in the eyes and say as your last ever words’

“I FORGIVE YOU-”

‘And be shot right in the heart, never to breath, never to love or speak. That's when you are truly free. When you are at your most happiest and can look something you thought was vile, disgusting and horrible, and still say fuck you and I wish of only the best for you..that’s when you know you have been fully cleaned. I am free..finally’

The music stopped, so did the laughter, the dancing, the smiles and the silly faces of joy..Now came tear,sadness, death of a reaper by a man named Adam and the out cries of a heart broken woman Named Eve. She held her lover close not giving a damn if her white dress was soaked with her blood. They would have given anything to have her back. But they knew the rules. No vampire shall drink dead blood, that in fact is what she was..dead. Dead was her old life that she left behind, dead was the hate she let go, and dead was the body that others abused. Dead was what she became. And yet she remained alive in their hearts. That night Adam made a fire and took the shoes of his lover out of it. To see her in such a light was horrifying, a nightmare that would haunt him and his wife for the longest of days. Days passed and so did luther. Adam was at his lowest. Sarah had chose to leave, but still would write letters to let the lovers know that they did not grief alone. Then the letters stopped too. In their hopes at the time they wanted it to be because of moving reasons  but it was unsure when not even one little post card came anymore.. The house felt empty and the lovers could no longer be there. For memory reasons and how they never aged. Faking their deaths the couple burned the house to the ground. Taking two already dead bodies and burning the house down. No more did they need it. And after more and more and more few years went by Eve toured again while Adam let himself slip, fall into a come comfortable sad state that he was never able to shake. Eve loved him no less and sent him many letters to keep him sane. And that is the tale of the lovers and the bird

But it is not the end.

“Hello there, little snack.”

Ava had the gun pointed toward Y/N but all Y/N could say was

“...Madiline?...”

[chantelle-x0x]

Unicorns Are Real - Daddy!Loki x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is my first ever try at writing Loki. I’m so sorry if this is ooc, but I just had to do this fluffy daddy!Loki fic because I couldn’t get this idea out of my head! So yeah, thanks for reading it x

Permanent tag list: @glorious-fandoms​, @rousetta​, @fuckyourgondola​

Disclaimer: **All characters besides Reader, belongs to Marvel (MCU)**

Word count: 1,598 (what started as a drabble ended in a long ass fic)

Pairing: Daddy!Loki x fem.reader

Rating: G

Warnings: Mentions of being bullied but it’s basically pure Loki fluff

Summery: Your daughter Erika is getting bullied because of her mythical beliefs. Even as an adult though, you show those girls what they deserve in the nicest way possible.  

*Gif not mine*

After meeting Loki (and the Avengers), you decided you wouldn’t let any mythical creatures be mythical in your head anymore, I mean, if you were married to a man who could become different people and creatures, what else could be there? So, when you and Loki welcomed a beautiful daughter into the world, you decided you’d bring her up believing in everything!

She took after her father with the black locks, although she had your eye colour. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on, and when she was born, that was the best day of you and Loki’s life. He wasn’t always predictable, but you knew that after he had a child, he’d become more…responsible. He’s just very protective of his angel. You chose to name her Erika since the meaning of her name was just perfect; ruling forever.

It was heartwarming when Erika started kindergarten, because she was just so happy and excited, which would make you happy and excited. You and Loki were the only parents that day with not a single tear in your eyes. In fact, all three of you hugged and then your daughter practically kicked you both out the door. You both laughed and all was well and good, until one day.

Loki had been away for a couple of days so you were left to look after Erika alone. You got her ready for school in the morning and had breakfast made, but you could see that something was different. She just wasn’t as bubbly as she normally was.

‘What’s wrong love?’ You ask looking at your daughter as you were getting her bag packed. She had the same habit as you when she was nervous; twisting her fingers together behind her back.

‘Nothing.’ She replied not meeting your eyes. You crouched down so you were about her height.

‘You’re my daughter Erika. I can see right through you when you’re lying.’ You said with a slight smile.

‘It’s just that, some girls aren’t being very nice to me. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even bother me.’ She finished with a soft smile. Her smile gave you warmth for two reasons, and one of them was because it reminded you of your husband.

‘What are they saying?’ You inquired rating an eyebrow.

‘Nothing important.’

‘Erika.’

‘Fine! They just aren’t being very nice okay? They are just being very rude. But it’s okay. I’m a strong girl! I take after daddy!’ She says with a genuine, huge smile.

‘That you do.’ That voice sent shivers down your spine (in a good way). Loki picked up his daughter and spun her around.

‘Daddy!’ She giggled.

‘I’m gonna wait in the car sweetie. 5 minutes.’ You said, kissing your husband and whispering something in his ear.

‘So, what’s been happening since I’ve been gone?’ Loki asked your daughter. That was the last thing you heard before closing the front door.

While you were in the car, you called work and told Tony you’d rather work from home today. You didn’t have powers, so you didn’t work with the Avengers as such. You did some of the paperwork after missions. Tony gave you that job when you told him that you lost your job because of association with the Avengers.

Erika hoped into the backseat of the car and buckled herself in. ‘Daddy said after school I can get ice-cream with him!’ She said excitedly.

‘Let me guess, rainbow?’ You inquire as you start to drive. Rainbow was always Erika’s first choice because of her favourite creature; the unicorn!

‘Not this time. I’ll go for vanilla.’ You looked at your daughter confused through the rear-view mirror.

‘Why the sudden change in flavour?’ You ask sweetly.

‘Because rainbow ice-cream is like a unicorn, fake. Rainbow ice-cream is just vanilla with food colouring.’ Erika could be really stubborn, but it broke your heart that your daughter, who was almost 5, didn’t believe in her favourite thing ever anymore.

‘Who told you that? Unicorns are real sweetie.’ You said trying to persuade her.

‘The girls at school.’ It suddenly dawned on you as to why she was getting bullied.

‘Sweetheart, are you getting bullied because you believe in unicorns and fairies and everything else that mummy believes in?’ The three year old nodded her head looking at the ground. ‘You know they are real though. You shouldn’t let those girls get inside your head. They are just envious of you. You have your real friends. Worry about them not about the mean girls.’ You said smiling at her. You pulled up at her school and got out of the car and opened there door, unbuckling your daughter.

‘Okay. But I still don’t believe in unicorns anymore.’ Erika said kissing your cheek before racing off to join her friends.

Unicorns were her favourite thing. With her fifth birthday coming up, she asked for a rainbow/unicorn themed party. You wanted to both make her happy with that wish, but also see Loki get out of the dark clothes for a while. So, you went home slightly unhappy.

You unlocked the door and slumped into the couch, throwing your bag down with you. Loki came to sit next to you. ‘What is wrong my dear?’ He asked a little concerned.

‘Some girls are being mean to Erika and now she doesn’t believe in unicorns anymore. You don’t know how heartbreaking that is to hear since, y’know, I’ve tried so hard to keep her believing even if no-one else does.’ Loki always loved how you cared about everyone knowing their worth, and with Erika being in school, peer-pressure was a big thing.

‘I know love, but maybe she has just grown out of that phase.’

‘I never did. I mean, I still believe. If people like you and Thor can exist, why can’t “mythical” creatures?’ You had a point, and Loki hated seeing you upset.

‘First, I’m going to deal with those girls, then we can come up with a plan. Now if you’ll excuse me,’

‘Loki, wait. I have a great idea for adult revenge.’ You smirked at your husband and told him your plan.

—

Erika’s birthday had already been organised as a rainbow/unicorn party, so you had everything set up. She invited her friends and even the kids that were mean to her.

As the party started to wind down, you knew the parents would come and collect their kids soon enough, so you wanted to unleash your biggest surprise yet, but you also wanted to wait. That was until you heard what one of the girls was saying to your most precious daughter.

‘At least now we all know why you believe in this rubbish, your dad is never around so you fill that gap with fake stuff.’ You heard your daughter sniffle and realised that no matter how grown up you actually were, some thing you had to do. You went and got Loki from your room, stifling your own giggle.

‘Okay, so Erika, I have one more surprise for you. Daddy and I both thought we would be able to get this for you, of course not permanently. Uncle Thor went to Asgard and brought this back for you.’ You smiled as a beautiful unicorn walked into your living room. The girls gasped, Erika’s real friends were thrilled and the other girls stood back in awe but had a very bitter look on their faces. You laughed under your breath. No matter how old you ever got, you wouldn’t ever stop trying to prove your point and this point would be the most important one ever; your daughter is the best little girl in the world and you would do everything in your power to make sure everyone knew that.

After the party ended and Erika was tucked into bed, Loki turned back into human form and changed into some comfy night clothes. You got into bed, your husband next to you. ‘Thank you for being a unicorn for us today. It really means a lot to me.’ You mumbled into his chest. Loki responded with a soft kiss to your forehead.

‘Anything for you my love. And anything to make my daughter feel even more special.’ You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips before you both heard the patter of small feet on your floor. Erika tugged the covers of your bed and smiled at you as you turned over to face her.

‘Yes?’ You asked without your smile faltering.

‘Thank you for everything today! You guys are the bestest parents anyone could ever ever ever ask for!’ She said almost bouncing. You chuckled as she climbed into the bed with you.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Loki asked pulling her hair back from her face.

‘I saw a unicorn today daddy! I really real one! I won’t ever sleep again! I’m too excited!’ You laughed kissing Erika on the head and snuggling close to her.

‘I love you sweetheart, but I’m tired, so you’re gonna have to sleep too. But I’m sure you’ll dream of unicorns.’ You said yawning and falling asleep quickly. Erika followed your actions and fell asleep too. Loki looked at the two of you and wondered how he got so lucky. He tried to ruin the place you now live in, but you saw the good in him even, especially when no-one else, including himself did. He swore he would do whatever he could for the rest of his life protecting you and his daughter.

If you’d like to be part of my tag list, let me know!

Constructive criticism and general feedback would be awesome as well! Thanks for reading x

[doctorwer]

Quick and Dirty History of Middle-Earth Part 26 Part C

Part 26 Or So Let’s Play “What Were They Up To Before They Were Famous, Part C”

Names

Aragorn II (Revered King)

Thorongil (Eagle of the Star)

Elessar (Elfstone, given to him in reference to Arwen giving him her Elfstone)

Edhelharn (Sindarin equivalent of Elessar)

Estel (Hope)

Strider (Name used in Bree)

The Dúnadan (Name used by Bilbo)

Longshanks (Another Bree name. Reference to the fact that Bree humans had shorter legs than Aragorn with his Dúnadan heritage).

Arakorno (Quenya form of Aragorn)

Born: Third Age 2931

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 88

He has too many names. Also, his birthday is March 1st! Anyway, his father was the Chief of the Dúnadan, the Rangers. As was traditional, Aragorn, the future Chef, grew up as a foster child of Elrond. But when he was only 2, his dad, Arathorn, was shot through the eye by an orc. Yikes. Elrond didn’t want it to get out that Aragorn was heir to Gondor and Arnor, so he changed his name to Estel and didn’t tell Aragorn who he really was. Growing up, he would go ranging with Elrohir and Elladan, so he had a good relationship with his future brother-in-laws! That’s good! When Aragorn turned 21, Elrond told him all about Gondor and the throne and his legacy. Normally, books like this would have us see the part where the freak out because they found out they’re royal, but we are able to skip that and pick up at the point where he was cool with it.

Leaving his mom in Rivendell (Oh, yeah. His mom’s still around), Aragorn started going all over the place. Rohan and Gondor and just everywhere. When he was 49, he met Arwen for the 2nd time in Lothlórien on the hill Cerin Amroth and they got engaged. So he’s been engaged since he was 49... and he’s 88 now... So 20 years later, Aragorn helps Gandalf track Gollum down. He does take a brief stop by Rivendell to visit his mother on her death bed. He was 70 at the time she died. After that, he caught Gollum, took him to Mirkwood, and caught up with Frodo!

Names

Théoden (King)

Horsemaster

Ednew

Born: Third Age 2948

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 70

Théoden was the oldest son of King Thengel of Rohan. He had four sisters. Three have no names, but we learn the name of his favorite, Théodwyn. We only know her because she was also the mother of Éomer and Éowyn. Théoden didn’t speak any Rohirric, since he had been born in Gondor and spent his childhood there. Théoden spoke Common and elvish. Tsk. The elite coming in to rule; he doesn’t even know the language his people speak. After Théodwyn and his brother-in-law died, he adopted Éomer and Éowyn.

Théoden married Elfhild, who got pregnant and had a son, Théodred (they love to name the sons a name that sounds close to the dads. It’s all over the place). Elfhild died giving birth to Théodred. Théoden ruled Rohan for 40 years before Gríma really started to mess Théoden up. Little dick.

Before Gandalf joined the Fellowship, he went to Edoras to warn Théoden about Saruman and to ask for a horse so that he could catch up with the Fellowship. Of course, Théoden was still under Saruman’s control. Théoden told Gandalf to take any horse and GTFO.  Gandalf picked Shadowfax, the bestest best horse in all of Rohan. Shadowfax was descended from legendary horses who could run really fast and really far without stopping. Of course, since Théoden told Gandalf he could take any horse, he couldn’t really say anything.

Names

Gríma (Mask, Visor, Helmet)

Wormtongue 

Born: Whoooooo knoooowwwsssss

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: Probably old. He sounds old.

Gríma is a bit if a mystery. He was the son of Gálmód and a native of Rohan. Pretty simple after that. He became a spy for Saruman because he was promised he could “marry” Éowyn. He used his lies and literal poison and shit to keep Théoden under Saruman’s spell. Gollum had tricked the Ringwraiths into going to the wrong place to find the Shire, but they passed by Wormtounge. The Witch-king questioned Gríma, who was all scared and told the Nazgûl where they could find The Shire and that Gandalf had been through Rohan recently. With Saruman, Gríma’s fate is changed the most from book to film. But we’ll get to that later.

Names

Frodo Baggins (Wise by Experience)

Frodo of the Nine Fingers

Nine-fingered Frodo (What is with named people based on horrible maimings they suffered?)

Frodo Elf-friend

Ring-bearer

Born: Third Age 2968

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 51 in the book/33-ish in the movie

OK, his age is one of the few things the movies changed that don’t fit well with the rest of cannon. In the books, Gandalf was gone for several years after the party, but Frodo stayed young because of the ring. Not so in the movies, where it looks like Gandalf has been gone a few months. Anyway, Frodo was the only child of Drogo Baggins and Primula Brandybuck. When Frodo was 12, his parents died. They went out boating and some say Drogo’s massive weight sunk the boat, and for some reason they couldn’t swim. Like, why go boating, then? SO, they both drowned. For a long time, Frodo lived with his uncle, Rorimac Brandybuck, Master of Buckland (Remember, that’s one of the three leaders of The Shire). Frodo was a trouble maker. Aw. Adorable. Bilbo adopted Frodo when he was 21. Frodo was 21. Bilbo was 99.

All the hobbits inter-marry to no end, so it’s hard to pin down the exact relationship between Bilbo and Frodo, but it was closer to cousin than uncle. But since Bilbo made Frodo his heir, it probably just seemed proper to call him Uncle Bilbo. Bilbo taught Frodo elvish and a lot of the history of Middle-Earth. The two even had the same birthday. Hobbits came of age at 33. I don’t know why, since they have the same average life spans as humans, 90-100. It seems like they don’t have very long time in the ‘adult’ age bracket. But since their entire lives just seem devoted to eating, drinking, and smoking, I guess they don’t need to be an adult for all that much. It’s not like they can’t drive a car until they come of age or they go away to college when they come of age or something. Anyway, when Frodo turned 33, Bilbo turned 111. Which is the birthday we see in the movie.

Name

Boromir (Steadfast Jewel)

Born: Third Age 2978

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 41

The oldest son of Denethor II and Finduilas. When Boromir was 10, his mother died. After that, his father was a lot more unpleasant. Even though their father clearly liked Boromir better, Boromir and his brother, Faramir, were very close. Boromir looked after his little brother. So cute. He spent most of his time keeping Team Evil from crossing over into Gondor through Osgiliath. Boromir never cared to marry (make of that what you will). He preferred to fight in battles and shit. And he didn’t care about history, expect the tales of the great battles of old. He was a jock. Faramir and Boromir started having freaking dreams, so Denethor ordered Boromir to go to Rivendell for advice. Faramir really wanted to go. Sad thing is, since Faramir passes on the Ring in the book, if Faramir was the one who went, both brothers might have lived. Boromir lost his horse along the way and had to go the rest of the way on foot, which took 110 days. Ouch.

Name

Théodred

Born: Third Age 2978

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 41

The only son of Théoden. His mom, Elfhild, died giving birth to him. Théodred was an officer type deal. Second Marshal of the Riddermark. Gríma tried to get Théoden and Éomer in trouble with the king, but they were just too loyal. They always followed Théoden, even if his orders were total crazy balls. Just before we first meet Éomer, Saruman assassinates Théodred. He had his orcs attack with clear orders to definitely kill the prince. There was a huge battle around the river and Saruman’s army that would latter attack Helm’s Deep were trying to get over the river. All this complicated military stuff happened and the strongest orcs charged Théodred at once, which is yesh. He died pretty soon after, but Team Good pushed the orcs back. If you watched the extended movie, you saw Éomer finding his cousin by a river. The regular movie just had Éomer riding up with some guy and then Théodred lying in bed, dying from poison, with Éowyn taking care of him. And then he’s dead. It’s very confusing without that river scene! Like, wait, he’s poisoned??? Why???? Who is he?????

Name

Samwise Gamgee (Simple Minded)

Born: Third Age 2980

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 39

Ah, Sam. We all know and love Sam. Fun Fact: Tolkien has said that Sam was always intended to be the hero of this piece. Yeah, Frodo carried the Ring. But Sam was the one who saved us all. Mentioned because my sister was all “Blah, Frodo was a horrible hero” and I was all “…No, duh…Kinda the point…” In a letter, Tolkien wrote that Sam was the “chief hero” and he’s the only Ring-bearer to give it up with his own free will, and he ends up saving Frodo over and over again. I almost wonder if it was commentary on typical English ideas at the time? Like, I don’t know what they thought back then in England, but it almost seems like the English expected their heroes to be rich and smart? Like, look at C.S. Lewis’ work? But Sam is even called simple minded, and every character overlooks him and acts like he is less than them. Not in a mean way, but a “I’m from a well-to-do family and you’re a blue collar worker” way. Literally everyone in the Fellowship are nobles in some way except Sam. But, throughout the book, he:

was all sly and did recon re:Frodo to report to Merry

pretended to be asleep so he could listen in on Frodo when he was talking with an elf

was the only one not tricked by Old Man Willow.

he surprises everyone by reciting a poem about Gil-galad from memory

he invents his own song, on the spot

he’s arguably the most level-headed of the hobbits. Nothing much spooks him.

It’s a constant theme that people misjudge him only to be shown up later.

Anyway, Sam is the son of Hamfast “The Gaffer” Gamgee and Bell Goodchild. Sam is the only one of the four hobbits in the Fellowship not even remotely related to them. The rest are all cousins several times over and shit. Like I said. They inter-married out the wazoo. They were all upper class and Sam was lower class. Sam had five brothers and sisters and he lived on Bagshot Row, which was very close to Bag End. Bilbo taught Sam about elves and about the world out there and encouraged Sam’s love of poetry. He also taught Sam to read, which is treated like a big deal, so most of his family probably couldn't. Sam was a gardener, like his father. His father had been the gardener at Bag End, but was retiring and Sam was training to take his place around the time the movie started.

Name

Fredegar “Fatty” Bolger

Born: Third Age 2980

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 39

Cut from the movie completely. He has a younger sister named Estella who one day marries Merry. He was in on the mission Frodo was on. He helped Marry, Sam, and Pippen secret Frodo out of the Shire. He didn’t want to leave the Shire, which is why he didn’t join them. His job was to stay at Frodo’s new house as a decoy for the Ringwraiths. Eventually, the Ringwraiths showed up, Fatty ran for help, and all of Buckland was woken by the Horn-call of Buckland, which chased the Ringwraiths out.

Names

Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck (Great Lord)

Merry the Magnificent

Born: Third Age 2982

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 37

Merry was the only child of Saradoc Brandybuck and Esmeralda Took. He and Pippin were first cousins. Merry knew something was weird about Bilbo since he was 18, a tween (tween = hobbit culture teenagers. They stay tweens from teen years until they come of age at 33). He saw Bilbo going down the road, when the Sackville-Bagginses came up it. The wife of in this couple would be the hobbit lady that Bilbo mentions in the beginning of The Hobbit and is all “Damn bitch stole all my spoons”. Anyway, Merry saw Bilbo disappear, then reappear on the other side of a hedge. He also saw a glint of gold as Bilbo put something in his pocket. So Merry was pretty suspicious. Little snoop also stole a look in Bilbo’s private journal. Merry didn’t tell anyone what he had seen or learned, though.

He had an important role at the beginning of the book, but that’s cut from the movie. It doesn’t make a huge difference, just made Merry clearly the brightest in the bunch. In the book, Sam, Merry, and Pippin knew that something was wrong with Frodo. Sam was indeed eavesdropping under Frodo’s window that night. It was they were worried about him and Merry came up with a plan to have the three of them go with Frodo. Frodo was planning to move from Bag End to Crickhollow, a house much closer to the edge of The Shire. Frodo, Sam, and Pippen went to Crickhollow where Merry met them. Frodo was all “Dear friends, I cannot stay” and the other hobbits were all “Surprise, Motherfucker! We’re going with you!” Merry was the one who got all their necessary gear and bought their ponies. Then the story continued like normal. We can pretend that Merry did have that plan, but Sam getting caught threw everything off and they had to start before they planned to. Which is why Merry and Pippin were stealing from the field instead of waiting…Just go with it…

Name

Faramir

Born: Third Age 2983

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 36

My poor baby Faramir. He was the second son of Denethor II and Finduilas. Faramir’s mother died when he was 5. Part of the issue was because she got weak after giving birth to Faramir and never really recovered. That and the fact that Faramir was pretty much a carbon copy of his mom, personality wise, led to Denethor disliking Faramir. Boromir was like their dad, proud and liked to fight. Faramir was more gentle and loved history and music, like their mother. Faramir also became friends with Gandalf, who Denethor hated and was sure was trying to take away his rule of Gondor. Which led to Denethor disliking Faramir even more. He became the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien, who capture Frodo and Sam. His weird dream is what leads to Boromir going to Rivendell.

Name

Peregrin “Pippin” Took (People who Wandered)

Born: Third Age 2990

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 29 (omg he’s older than Éomer and Éowyn)

Pippin was the youngest child and only son of Paladin Took II, Thain of the Shire, and Eglantine Banks. Remember that the Thain is the second of three main leaders in The Shire. Pippin and Merry were first cousins. He was also Frodo’s second-cousin, once removed and Bilbo’s first-cousin, twice-removed. Hobbits loved family trees, which is how they can say such detailed relations like this. His older sisters were named Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca. I sense a theme, here. Keep in mind, a hobbit doesn’t come of age until 33, so Pippin was the only minor in the group. That justifies some of his more stupid actions, I guess.

Name

Éomer (Grand War-horse)

Born: Third Age 2991

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 28

Another one of my babies. Éomer was the son of Éomund and Théodwyn, Théoden’s sister. When Éomer was 11, Éomund was killed chasing a bunch of orcs. After that, Théodwyn became sick and died. Théoden adopted Éomer and his sister and they went to live with their uncle at Meduseld, the Golden Hall. Éomer became good friend with his cousin, Théodred, and the two loved each other like brothers. After that, Éomer became the Third Marshal of Rohan. This means he led the group of defenders of east Rohan. So Éomer lived in Aldburg, a town in east Rohan. He was meeting with his uncle in Edoras when Gríma banished him.

Name

Éowyn (Horse-joy)

Born: Third Age 2995

Age at time of Lord of the Rings: 24

This is my girl, Éowyn. Éowyn’s a BAMF. How many of you can say you’ve killed an unspeakable evil at the tender age of 24. Hell, I’m 22 and the most I’ve done is graduate college. Gotta get my shit together in the next two years. Anyway, this would be the daughter of Éomund and Théodwyn, Théoden’s sister. She was only 7 when her parents died. When Théoden started to fall under Saruman’s spell, Éowyn had to take care of him. What she really wanted to do, of course, was prove herself on the field of battle. 

Part 27 Or So Now Let’s Play ‘Where Are They Now!?’ (FINAL)

Quick and Dirty History of Middle-Earth Pt. 1

Note: Sources for all artwork can be found on the linked pages.