#i am so happy to see this discussed you cannot imagine

[ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnosblog]

^^ this

This is the most important response to “AI is going to replace all the jobs”

#MarcusHutchins

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

[nereidprinc3ss]

okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.” 

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief. 

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.” 

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.” 

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication. 

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.” 

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest. 

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.” 

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you. 

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.” 

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there. 

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.  

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?  

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday. 

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.  

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence. 

“Can we talk?” 

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?” 

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!” 

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth. 

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with. 

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.” 

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins. 

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.” 

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.” 

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.  

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?” 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad. 

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”  

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.” 

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake. 

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm. 

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.” 

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.” 

He chuckles. 

“At an entirely different university.” 

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident. 

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.” 

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?” 

Spencer sighs. 

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.” 

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin. 

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected. 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.” 

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

[iwritefandomimagines]

FIRST AND LAST — PRINCE FRIEDRICH

masterlist

pairing: prince friedrich x reader

description: it has been tradition all season long that prince friedrich occupies your first and last dance of every evening. it is well known that his engagement is looming, so no man dares ask to take these dances from him. that is, until one clueless lord makes that awkward mistake.

warnings: pure fluff, tiny bit of jealousy from my sweet prince, but predominantly pure, tooth-rotting fluff !

“The season is almost over,” Daphne Bridgerton hummed, flitting her fan across her chest as you stood at the edge of the ballroom, “Do you think the prince might propose this evening?”

You laughed, watching as the prince eyed you from across the floor despite dancing with another young lady.

“I hope so,” you replied, pure happiness in your tone as you thought of the future you had discussed so extensively with the man who had won your heart with such ease, “Though he himself requested a long courtship. Oh, Daph, you should’ve heard him. He told me he was certain he was falling in love with me and wished to wed, but that he wanted to prolong our courtship to ensure I too was certain.”

“Gosh, Y/N, how romantic,” Daphne grinned.

“He is absolutely a dream,” you fanned yourself now too, growing flushed at the thought of just how deeply your feelings for the Prussian prince ran, “I of course told him I feel the same regardless, but he said that though he’d wed me in a heartbeat, it was fun to pretend we were still in the early stages of courting. And of course, I save every first and last dance for him and only him.”

Daphne was swooning at the prospect, and given her confusing situation regarding her ruse with the Duke, their sudden marriage, and how in love they quite clearly were, you were unsurprised that she was so excited to hear that your blossoming relationship was thriving so.

“Speaking of which, my dear friend,” she lifted your dance card from your wrist to see that as ever Prince Friedrich’s name graced the bottom of your card, “It appears you have danced with all others.”

As you looked away from her, you saw the prince smile in your direction, sending your heart into an absolute frenzy, “He appears to be on his way over!”

Before he could cross the floor, however, a gentleman you barely recognised obscured your view of the man you loved, stepping directly in front of you with a smile on his face.

“Lady Y/N,” the man bowed, “I am Lord Francis. I apologise for never making your acquaintance sooner, for my work and travels delayed my arrival in the Ton,” he took your hand to kiss its back, and as he leaned to do so you saw the prince behind him with a frown on his face, now mere meters away, “You are truly a diamond, and I should most certainly wish to know you more. You cannot imagine my relief upon seeing that you were yet unbetrothed. Might I have your next dance, my lady?”

You swallowed thickly, looking to Daphne for help but finding that she had slipped away amidst his little speech.

You were tempted to scoff at the man’s audacity to so abruptly ask of a dance at the end of the evening when he had chosen so late in the hall to introduce himself. And, of course, you were entirely uninterested.

Before you had the opportunity to respond, however, Prince Friedrich was at the man’s side.

“Ah, Lady Y/N,” he bowed, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it that lingered as he looked up at you and made you swoon, “Each time I see you in that necklace I am reminded why I selected it for you. It was made for you, to be sure.”

You giggled shyly, both feeling giddy around the man you loved and at the clear reason for his choice of words. He was here to assert his place, jealousy coursing through his royal blood.

“Oh your highness,” you curtsied, “Thank you again for the beautiful gift. I was wondering when you might return to share my last dance, as always. I do so look forward to it,” you flashed your dance card to the rather impertinent Lord Francis with a falsified frown, “I do apologise, my lord, but I have not yet shared my final dance with anyone but the Prince. And I do not wish to change that tradition.”

The gentleman scampered away without another word, leaving the prince to capture you in his arms and lead you to the dance floor.

“I am certainly glad to be rid of that fool,” he grumbled, and you reached up to run your thumb along his cheekbone soothingly, internally frustrated that the action would end up in Lady Whistledown’s writings the next day.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, “Oh my love, you needn’t worry. You know that if I could I would dance only with you the entire night.”

The prince was more than satisfied with this, a broad smile gracing his strong features as you continued the rhythm of the waltz you found yourself in.

“I am pleased to hear that, to be sure,” he beamed, “And once this dance is through, I hoped we might have a moment to talk. Perhaps on the balcony?”

You nodded softly, “Any moment with you, I could never deny myself.”

He smiled, and as the dance drew to a close you found yourself growing nervous.

Had this small moment of jealousy spurred on a proposal? Or perhaps he had always intended to propose tonight?

Perhaps it was not a proposal at all, and he just wished for some fresh air and a chance to chatter away from the eyes and ears of the ballroom?

You caught Daphne’s eye as you followed the prince outside, noticing her eyes widen in excitement as she too expected you to return to the ballroom engaged.

You bit your lip, allowing yourself to share her excitement for just a moment before nerves slipped into your mind again.

You reached the balcony after what felt like hours, with time seeming to progress in slow motion as you waited to hear what it was the prince wished to discuss.

“My dearest Lady Y/N,” he began, capturing both of your hands in his as his eyes twinkled down at you in the moonlight, “You must know that since we met, you have been the sun around which I revolve. You captured my heart the very moment I first saw you, and with every discussion of a future I have grown more certain that it is with you I wish to build a life, a home, a family,”

“Oh my dear prince,” you were certain you could taste blood, your heart pounding with anticipation as it truly sunk in just what was going on, “You must know that the feeling has always been entirely reciprocated. Every moment I have spent with you has been blissful, and I rather selfishly wish for an eternity of such moments.”

He shook his head, “It is not at all selfish, my dove. For it is what I wish for too. An eternity with the love of my life at my side, wherever we might find ourselves.”

You shared a brief moment of comfortable silence, staring into each other’s eyes as you could think about nothing but his gentle touch and romantic words.

He was everything you could’ve dreamed of in a man, and now here he was professing that he too was enamoured by you.

Even though he had made it quite clear how he felt before, in this very second everything felt as though it fell perfectly into place.

The true love you always dreamed of finding but never expected to… He was right here, about to ask for your hand and sweep you off of your feet.

“It is for this very reason, my love,” he began again, keeping his hold of your left hand but dropping to his knee in a split second, “That I find myself desperate to ask — will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“My gosh!” you exclaimed, nodding excitedly as he slipped the most beautiful ring onto your finger and rose to his feet again, “I would love to. I can think of no future more exciting than one as your wife.”

He kissed your hand again, now peppering kisses around the ring he had just given you, sending sparks throughout your body at his delicate touch.

“I cannot wait to begin our life together properly, as man and wife,” he grinned, reaching to push a stray hair from your face as he spoke, “Free of meddlesome gentlemen who have no regard for one’s prior commitment.”

“My darling, you truly had no need to worry,” you giggled, lifting your free hand to your mouth to stifle it a little, “He could not hold a candle to you, and I would never have given up my dance with you for him. I wish always for my first and last dance to be with you… And every dance in between.”

He pulled you flush to his chest now, spinning you softly to the faint sound of the orchestral tune still playing in the ballroom.

“Then my every dance is yours, my love,” he hummed, discreetly pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he spun you around, “Always and forever.”

“I love you,” you were truly in a state of pure bliss as you danced, choosing to ignore that you were most certainly being watched, “More than I can ever express.”

“I love you as such also, my future princess,” he replied, pausing your dance just to look at you intently again for just a second before he spoke, “And I shall spend our whole life showing you.”

“I am so incredibly lucky to have fallen in love with you,” you shook your head in disbelief, still smiling up at him.

“It is I who is lucky,” he disagreed, looking up into the night sky littered with stars, “And the stars in the sky are lucky to every day be graced with your existence too.”

“You flatter me, my love.”

“And I intend to continue to remind you how wonderful you are, my dove,” he practically whispered, dipping his head lower so that you could feel his breath fanning over your face, though not close enough to induce any more scandal than your balcony dance might already have done.

“It’s a pleasure to be forever your first and last dance… And I can only hope to be your first and last love, if you would let me. For you most certainly shall be mine.”

“You shall be mine too, my love. I am certain of it.”

———

ok fluffy af because i am currently in looove with the prince and idk where it came from but i had to write this once i had the idea!!!

if you have any requests (right now preferably bridgerton, djats or criminal minds) then please feel free to send them in and i’ll make a start this week!

also pleaaase let me know in comments/reblogs what you think!

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[howling-medic]

Impertinence

Summary: Five times Pippin call Aragorn Strider in places he shouldn't, and the one time he didn't. With an epilogue and bonus snippet because I couldn't leave it where it ended. This is entirely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

A/N: Holy shit. This was kind of a beast to write. I also wrote it mostly while on shift, so I'm really hoping I caught all my mistakes, and it's mostly decent. I am not sure how happy with this I am, but I think it is as good as I am going to get it. If I keep agonizing over it, I'll never sleep today. So, up it goes. Also, I am too lazy to make this into multiple chapters right now. Maybe one day I will, but it is not this day. For now, there are headers at the start of each section

This whole thing came about because I mentioned to someone that I want Fourth Age content because I wanted to see Pippin being a little shit in court, and I was told emphatically that Pippin would clearly grow up and behave himself. I think that's insane. Pippin is a socially skilled class clown with a high level of intelligence. He also has zero regard for authority figures. So I wrote a whole fic about how much of a dork Pippin is and how Aragorn adores that dork - even if he a giant pain in his ass.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, sadness, heartbreak, mentions of alcohol

WC: 7562 words (This was never intended to be this long, y'all.)

Making An Entrance

“Strider!” The shout cut through the den of the courtyard of the Citadel. King Elessar sighed fondly and turned to find Pippin jogging towards him in his road dirtied court attire. In the past two years Aragorn had learned one thing: every time the young hobbit came back to court, he would call the King by his old moniker in public at least once. Usually more. As with each time, everyone in the vicinity turned to search for the source of the disrespect to their monarch.

“Thrain Took,” Aragorn called in greeting. At the use of his title, Pippin’s ears went pink, and Aragorn laughed at the sight of the very moment the young hobbit realized his mistake. To the utter shock of any in the area who did know of Pippin or the story of the name Strider, including the Harad emissaries who had come to discuss a new trade agreement, Aragorn knelt to welcome his friend with a warm embrace. “How are you my dear friend? How was your journey?”

“Ach, I am as well as ever! The road was long, but certainly shorter than my first journey here.” Pippin was about to launch into a long winded tale of the trip and all those he and Merry saw along the way, as well as all the doings of The Shire. Aragorn could see it in the hobbit’s eyes. Just before he could open his mouth, Aragorn interjected, “And I cannot wait to hear all you wish to share. I am certain we have much to discuss politically and personally, but I do not wish to keep you from getting a bite and a bath, so go freshen yourself. Then come to my quarters for dinner.”

Pippin glanced over Aragorn’s shoulder and saw the assembled group of men waiting on his liege to return, and then he looked back to Aragorn. His lips pressed into a thin line. The group of Harad dignitaries looked utterly aghast at his apparent impudence. Aragorn shrugged nearly imperceptibly and rolled his eyes, at which Pippin’s face lit up anew. “As you wish, Strider.” Aragorn barked out a startled laugh and shook his head. 

“Fool of a Took,” he murmured and rose to return to the Harad behind him. “Gentlemen, where were we?”

“You accept such disrespect from a creature so small? Was that a child?” One of the men asked while his eyes followed the retreating form of Pippin.

“That,” Aragorn said in a voice still light with laughter while watching Pippin disappear inside the Citadel, “Was a hobbit of more renown and valor than you could imagine. His name is Peregrin Took. He is the Thrain of the Shire, and a Knight of the Citadel. He was also one of the nine of the Fellowship of the Ring. He, the others of that party, and the Thrain’s kin are the only people from whom I accept that name. So no, my lord, I suffer no disrespect, nor was that a child.” The laughter in Aragorn’s voice died, and he turned back to the group before him. “I would advise you to not disrespect hobbits in this court - particularly those who were a part of the Fellowship. They are much beloved by myself, my household, and this land.” The three assembled emissaries took a collective half step back. Looking at each of the three in turn, Aragorn found his humor and patience was spent. Silent judgment and covert murmurs about his patience with Pippin he could handle, but the incredulity in this man’s voice with no knowledge of what he spoke, of who he spoke, was not something Aragorn could not abide. “I believe we are done with negotiations for today.” He broke off for the briefest of moments and pushed aside the temptation to put these three men, the truly impudent ones in this situation, in their place in favor of remaining diplomatic. “Let us resume tomorrow for I desire to inquire after Thrain Took’s companion, Meriadoc, and hear the news of a region of my land from which I receive very little.” 

“My lord,” they said in unison. 

Aragorn took his leave. As he turned, he caught their shared look of disbelief. “Strider?” he heard one ask. “Hobbits?” another asked. “Strange land and a strange people,” the final man declared. Aragorn chuckled. Once again, he was going to have to have a word with Pippin. No matter how much more he loathed the Harads’ words, Pippin had to watch around whom he spoke in such a manner. Even if Aragorn wished it was not so.

However, later that evening as Aragorn entered the sitting room of the Royal Apartments, the earnest look of joy Aragorn saw in Pippin’s eyes when he exclaimed the name - the one given to him by an innkeeper that Aragorn once loathed - stayed his tongue. With a sigh of relief, the High King of the Reunited Kingdom lifted the winged crown from his head and placed it upon the black velvet cushion on a side table that was as near to the door as possible without blocking it. Then he did away with the heavy blue velvet cloak adorned with the crest of the House of Telcontar selected by his attendants specifically for his meeting with the Harad dignitaries. “Strider indeed, my friend,” Aragorn said with a fond chuckle. “You truly will never let that name remain in the past, will you?”

“Why ever would I?” Pippin asked. His brows furrowed in earnest confusion. “It is the name I first knew you by, and someone has to keep you grounded and your head from flying away with those wings you wear.” 

Aragorn laughed. It started as a choked back sound of surprise and devolved into a truly uproarious, booming laugh. So few dared to speak to him in such a manner that it was refreshing to hear such cheek. “Verily, and I suppose one so close to the ground would be just the person to do so?”

“Precisely! I am glad you understand!” Pippin beamed up Aragorn with mirth and mischief dancing in his eyes that spelled nothing but trouble. The Ranger of the North could not find it within himself to fret over it. 

Of Hobbits and Their Food

“Strider! Do not be absurd!” Pippin cried with his hands thrown up in exasperation. Aragorn resisted the urge to let his head fall to the wooden table before him. The assembled council looked in utter disbelief at the impudent hobbit in their midst. The annual meeting discussing each region’s harvest dragged on well past lunch and was showing no signs of stopping - despite the originally listed eleven o'clock end time for the meeting. Several regions’ summers had been unusually dry, and The Shire’s harvest outperformed all others. As a solution, one of Aragorn’s advisors proposed requisitioning a small portion of its grains and preservable legumes to help offset the dearth from the other areas of Gondor. Pippin was displeased with the notion, to say the least, and turned that displeasure to Aragorn. The King sat with his fingers steepled on the table. It was logical, but many hobbits viewed ‘Big Folks’ with intense weariness. Declaring a portion of their harvest the property of the crown would only validate that weariness and breed resentment in a fledgling political relationship. The crown was meant to protect that vulnerable region, not pilfer from them. Yet, his other territories were in a precarious position with meager stores to last the winter.

Of all the times and days to use the old nickname, this was the least ideal. Years with poor harvests led to contentious, and frequently panicked, fall assemblies of regional Lords. This assembly included many from outlying communities who did not frequently make it to court. Protesting a proposal was one thing. An outburst that - given their ignorance to the background of the familiar title - would appear to these Lords as impudence was another. Impudence they would perceive as tolerated by their King, which they would likely take to mean their King lacked control of his troops and court. Aragorn could feel every eye in the room trained on him, awaiting a response. Awaiting his rebuke to the comment. 

“Nothing has been decided Thrain Took,” Aragorn responded coldly. The emphasis he placed on Pippin’s title drew smirks from several Lords. Pippin did not flinch. 

The ever genial hobbits looked back at his friend with narrowed eyes. An unmeasured emotional outburst may have drawn the name from Pippin, but he showed no signs of being cowed that easily. “My apologies, Lord,” Pippin said bitterly. Aragorn suppressed a sigh of defeat and smile simultaneously.  

“State your case for reserving your resources. It is only right we hear your rebuttal after hearing the argument for requisitioning some of your bounty.” Aragorn’s tone took a more neutral tone. Arguments could remain behind closed doors - in places where the defiant nature of his friend would not raise eyebrows. Now was the time to draw an already overlong meeting to a close without further incident, so Aragorn could rein in his frustration for the time being. 

Pippin spoke eloquently of the need to keep The Shire’s resources within and not dispersing them, his tone turning to a dispassionate recitation of facts and history. He outlined the way they often support outlying communities like Bree and the general distrust nearly all the ‘shire folk felt’ of any situation where resources were taken in such a manner following Saruman’s abuse and subjugation. It was a persuasive case that Pippin would not have possessed the maturity to articulate five years ago when Aragorn met him in the Prancing Pony or four years ago when the hobbit first rode back to his home. The spirit and fierce protectiveness of his kin was the same, but the ability to debate over argue was a new development that Aragorn felt privileged to have witnessed. The inability to relinquish the old moniker of Strider in public seemed an enduring habit, however. 

Lunch was sent for as soon as the King left the meeting hall. Pippin sat before him with defiance radiating off him in waves. The look in his eyes was so similar to that which Aragorn saw in Rivendell when Elrond attempted to send Merry and Pippin back to the Shire instead of with the Fellowship that it nearly made him laugh at the old memory. Almost. ���Peregrin Took,” Aragorn started, “We have had this conversation before.”

“Yes, and I have told you before that I am not likely to ever truly change. I may be older, and I may have fancy titles, but I am still no more than a hobbit from the Shire.”

“Is that so? Are you not a knight of the citadel and a member of this court? The designated ambassador from your land and representative of your people?” Aragorn asked, voice stern and lacking any of the humor with which he typically spoke to his friend. Even in their most heated political debates and spirited debate over old history, neither were prone to harsh tones. 

“Aye, I may be, but I am still simple folk. Unschooled in court and prone to gaffs.” Pippin’s protest held no water, and he knew it. Five years of serving in the court as Thrain of the Shire left him well schooled in court affairs - even if he traded on his humble, rural appearance and accent frequently in court dealings.  

“You know it causes a stir throughout the whole of the court each time you do that?” Aragorn asked sharply. “It reflects on how I manage my advisors and troops. I know things change slowly in The Shire, if they change at all, but are you so incapable of change yourself? Can you do as your King and liege lord commands in this, if you won’t do it for your friend?”

Pippin visibly deflated as Aragorn spoke. His shoulders drooped and his eyes fell to the cluttered desk before him. “Aye, Strider. That I can do. So long as I can still call you as I ever think of you out of earshot of those who fuss about such odd things.” Aragorn softened then. As I ever think of you. The simple statement drew a lopsided smile to his face that was reminiscent of the first night he met Pippin in Bree, the one that played across his face each time the four hobbits impressed him with their boldness in the face of fear and peril and each time they showed their heart and wisdom along their long journey. “Do you still see old Strider in me? You did once promise to ground me in that version of myself, did you not?”

“That I did, and that I do. You may wear fancy clothes and bathe regularly now, so your old rascally look is gone, but that does not mean you are not the rascal I first met. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I dare say it will be many times yet in the years we spend together. I find less and less of the Ranger in myself each day I spend in these stone halls.” “Do you not sneak out anymore? Slip past your guards and flee to the woods?” Pippin asked.

“Not in many months. I have been tied to this desk long into the night, and when I am not I am with the little ones. It also seems that many people who have no right to an opinion on the matter feel rather strongly that I ought not to ever be anywhere without a guard.”

“Would it please my lord to escape this evening then?”

“Did we not just say that we need not use titles away from listening ears?” Aragorn inquired through a laugh.

“That we did, but I am still an ass and a Fool of a Took after these many years. I shall do as I please behind closed doors and do as you please beyond them,” Pippin answered simply and grinned.

“I suppose I can abide that,” Aragorn replied and fell silent for a moment. “I do believe an escape into the woods sounds like a wonderful idea - plus none can protest that I will be unprotected with a Knight of Gondor at my side.” 

“Excellent! Then let's settle the matter of the Shire’s crops, so we have no work to haggle over while we are beneath the stars…Strider.”

Feasts are for celebrating

It was the Midsummer’s Feast, and all the remaining members of The Fellowship, their spouses, Éomer, Lothíriel, Éowyn, and Faramir sat at the head table. A few notable dignitaries from Aglarond and Legolas’s kin in Ithilien had also been designated seats of honor with the tightly knit group of nobility. Eight years into the Fourth Age left the lands prosperous and healing. Areas that had long since not seen inhabitants were being rebuilt. Maps were being redrawn with each passing year because they lacked new settlements. That was a struggle all were thrilled to have. 

Eight years of retelling stories, however, meant they only still possessed roots in the truth. With each new recitation details were exaggerated anew. Drama was added. Some events were simply fabricated from nowhere. Some were far guiltier of these transgressions than others. Pippin was fairly notorious throughout the Reunited Realm for embellishments - especially when the wine and ale flowed freely as it did at feasts. As it was at this Midsummer’s Feast. “Strider! Strider!” Pippin called from halfway down the table. The guests of honor from abroad, who were seated next to Pipped, gaped at the hobbit who had already shared many fascinating tales that evening. “I was rather indisposed with dancing and singing, and you were the only one with Frood at the time in the Prancing Pony. Could you tell us the story of what you saw - or didn’t see, for that matter - in the tavern when he disappeared? These lovely gentlemen from Aglarond have not heard that story yet, seeing as we had not yet met Gimli!” 

Each person well acquainted with Pippin, and his propensity to forget proper etiquette, looked around the table and then to Aragorn. Every feast it happened eventually, no matter how many times Pippin was lectured, and each time his friends reacted the same. Aragorn was beginning to wonder if Pippin acted as he did simply to get a rise out of those around him. Someone has to keep you grounded and your head from flying away with those wings you wear echoed in Aragorn’s mind as he watched the familiar sight of the friends he called family react anew to Pippin’s antics. Faramir grumbled something incoherent into his glass of wine, for which Éowyn promptly kicked his shin. Éomer snorted out a rather undignified choked laugh. Lothíriel glared at him. Merry groaned into his hands to muffle the sound. Legolas pressed his lips into a thin line to hide a smile. Sam shook his head in dismay. Rosie giggled into her napkin. Gimli had no such compunctions and chuckled rather loudly. Diamond sighed and looked apologetically at Arwen. Arwen visibly fought back laughter. Aragorn, donning the Winged Crown and Star of Elendil, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and proceeded to give a full recount of the events in the Prancing Pony the first night he met the hobbits. That retelling quickly led to several more tales shared - and debated. Tales of travels and battles, and all the embarrassing mishaps and pranks along the way. The formality of the night quickly devolved, and strict court manners gradually faded from each of the friends. 

After a few more glasses of wine and ale, Pippin was far from the only one at the table who had their fun at the expense of the King sitting at the head of the table. Merry recounted the time Aragorn “mercilessly taunted me while I was ailing in the Houses of Healing! I had just stabbed the Witch King himself, if you’ll believe it, and here was my friend telling me I had lost my gear that was sitting by the bed the whole time!” Gimli and Legolas shared many tales of their time as ‘The Three Hunters’. The one that earned Gimli the most laughter was the abject horror of being awoken well before dawn only for Aragorn to lay himself flat on the ground for “nearly a whole age of men” to declare many horses were nearby…only for Legolas to be able to see them on the horizon and correctly count them. Éomer was all too happy to chime in that Legolas had been only three riders off on his count, before adding his own note on how he nearly killed all three of them on sight. He then apologized to Merry and Pippin, for easily the hundredth time, for almost inadvertently killing them while killing the band of orcs who had captured them. 

By the end of the night, King Elessar doffed his ceremonial headwear and pulled out his pipe. Once he lit it, he tossed a bag of pipeweed to Pippin with a grin and a nod. The court gaped at the King who had turned into a Ranger before their eyes, though many who had seen this mood take their Lord before just chuckled. Aragorn looked around and grinned. They could gape and murmur, for this night was a celebration of all that had been hard won, and the uncouth and unendingly frustrating hobbit gesturing wildly while telling all there was to know of the Battle of Isengard and the Final March of the Ents won much of their bounty back for them. Tonight needed no lecture. 

Joyous News

Nearly silent feet padded down the hallway outside Aragorn’s office. Had Aragorn not spent several decades around hobbits, and a decade listening for that sound in his own palace, he never would have heard it. Pippin had been in Minas Tirith for only two days, and mischief was already afoot apparently. “Stri-” Pippin started and skidded to a halt, and his jaw snapped shut. “My Lord,” he began again and then addressed the Captain- General standing before Aragorn’s desk. “My sincerest apologies to you both,” he mumbled. Glee still danced in the hobbit’s eyes despite the faint hue of pink on his cheeks. “I will come back later. I did not mean to interrupt.” 

“Peregrin,” the officer said and gestured him into the office, “join us. There is clearly news to be shared. Do not let me keep you from it.”

“Sire, please. I mean no offense, but this is news I need to tell Str- King Elessar alone.” Pippin caught himself midway through the old nickname. When he did, he looked up at Aragorn rather abashedly - the pink dusting to his cheeks darkening. Rarely did Pippin truly feel shame for breaking proper court etiquette, but breaking rank in front of his superior military officers was one of few things for which he felt ashamed, however. His place within the army was more ceremonial than anything else at this point, but he drilled each time he came to court and practiced with any those he could at home. It was a matter of pride that he maintained his skills. The practice of going through his drills kept the memory of Boromir alive, and Pippin meant to honor his promise to Denethor to serve Gondor until his dying breath in repayment of his debt for Boromir’s death.

Aragorn sighed and rose from his seat. He was not escaping the back and forth of deference that was brewing between these two. Pippin had already derailed the meeting and taken the focus off the report of Southrond raiding parties harrying several outlying communities. “Captain-General, if you would please excuse us for the briefest of moments. Clearly something urgent of a personal nature has come up, but I will return shortly.” Aragorn’s voice was tight, but he motioned towards the side door that led to a private side room off the office. Pippin shuffled in behind Aragorn. The embarrassment at his multiple slips of the tongue were gone from Pippin’s face when Aragorn turned to face him. All that remained was a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “What on all of Arda is going on? And did no page or guard inform you I was in a meeting?” Aragorn asked.

“Well, as for pages and guards…no, but I did not really give them a chance to stop me either, for all my excitement.” “Then out with it, man!” Aragorn laughed, shaking his head with disbelief and amusement alike. His aggravation was quickly waning in the face of Pippin’s delight.

“I’m going to be a father! Diamond is pregnant!” Pippin exclaimed. 

The Captain-General standing on the other side of the thin wall with his urgent report no longer held even a fraction of his importance as he had moments before. Aragorn dropped to his knees to embrace Pippin. Aragorn’s lingering annoyance at the interruption and Pippin’s continued struggle to keep the name Strider behind closed doors was forgotten. “Well, that is a worthy reason to interrupt a meeting - and a reason to celebrate!”

“I would say so! Though, had I known you were otherwise engaged, I would have at least waited in the hall. It’s not as though the bairn is not going anywhere just yet.”

“No, indeed, but I will gladly be interrupted for joyous news, my good hobbit.” Aragorn looked to the door and then back to Pippin. “I have to hear this last report, but go find Arwen and Diamond. I think we are all done working for the day. It is time to celebrate a new generation of Tooks.” As Pippin turned to leave, Aragorn added, “But Pippin, you have to let the staff stop you next time even if I welcome interruptions for good news - and please, after ten years, stop calling me Strider while we are working.”

“As you wish, Strider!” Pippin called halfway out the door. Aragorn groaned and shook his head, gesturing for the Captain-General to take the seat across from the desk.

“Do not ask, for I have neither the time nor the energy to explain,” Aragorn said in answer to the inquisitive look the man gave him.

Infrastructure of the Fourth Age

“It will never work, Strider,” Pippin interrupted in the middle of Aragorn’s explanation of his plan to dig new wells in the lower levels and outlying communities surrounding Minas Tirith as the city’s population outgrew the confines of its walls - and the limits of their water supply. Most of the assembled advisors, craftsmen, and lords present were well used to the behavior of the Thrain of the Shire. However, Several were not, and they looked wide eyed between the King and his Knight. Aragorn looked at the ceiling as though he expected to find an answer to the riddle of Pippin’s behavior there. There was none. Strictly speaking, he was not even needed or invited to this meeting, but he had a habit of poking his head into court sessions that were not pertinent to his duties or position. 

“Thrain Took. Please. I welcome your thoughts and opinions, but I cannot abide your interruptions or use of familiar names during council meetings. We have discussed this at length,” Aragorn said sternly once he looked back at the hobbit and after a long sigh.

“My apologies, your majesty, but I do not beg your pardon. You cannot hold this old hobbit at fault. I simply forget myself in my advanced age,” Pippin said. The room stilled. Aragorn laughed despite himself. At one point, he hoped and expected Pippin to mellow as he aged, but the opposite proved to be the case. Each year the hobbit became bolder, but he was savvier about it. There were few times, however, where he sounded much like his younger self. 

“I have heard that excuse before from an old hobbit in Rivendell who blamed senility for gaffs. I did not believe him then, just as I do not believe you now,” Aragorn said and smirked.

“You may choose to believe me or not as you wish,” Pippin said with a shrug, “but that does not change the fact that I think this plan is entirely foolish and ill conceived - and I agreed to march on the Black Gates with you. And that was a plan with near certainty of death and small chance of success. This, I would wager, has no chance of success.” A few of the younger people in attendance gasped. Most of the older council members laughed under their breath. Pippin matched Aragorn’s smirk and did not flinch. This was the level of pointed discussion they reserved for Aragorn’s study and had over a bottle of wine. However, Aragorn had not shared this plan with Pippin - as it truly was not a plan that impacted the hobbit in any fashion, nor did it seem a plan that would interest him. Apparently, he should have.

“And do you have another suggestion then, Thrain Took?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Pippin declared in a smug tone with a grin to match. “We just had to manage the exact same issue in Hobbiton - granted we lack the many levels and such owing to most hobbits not even handling homes with second stories well, let alone a city of multiple levels with buildings of even more levels - but good ol’ Merry and some of Legolas’ elves came up with a brilliant way to reroute some of the water from the Brandywine to make new distributaries! I think we may need to do the same here.”

“And why would wells not work as they always have?” Aragorn challenged, but his words held no heat, nor did he ask unkindly. There was an elegance to the idea Pippin was proposing, and Aragorn was keen to hear it. Now came to the political jockeying needed to sell opposition to one of Pippin’s less tactical rebukes of a plan proposed by Aragorn. “How in the world do you think you are going to find new well sites that nobody in the history of this city has found? Are you going to go digging up roads all over the first and second level? No. You most certainly aren’t. Instead you can reroute some small distributaries off the Anduin to create a water source in the outlying communities and then work with Gimli and the other dwarves of Aglarond on a system for running that source up to the first and second levels. They have to have a system for it in their caves.”

“Master Thrain,” Aragorn said flatly.

“Yes, my lord?” Pippin asked.

“I am commissioning you back into my service for this project. You are now the lead on it. But, Peregrin, do not interrupt me like that or address me so in any of the meetings on it again.”

“I shall do as my lord bids me,” Pippin said. The smug grin on his face had never faded for a moment. The old members of the council rolled their eyes, and the young ones still gaped at him. Aragorn sighed and shook his head once again. 

Sounds You Miss

Years dragged on and Aragorn found the gift of his long life became a curse once again. His friends were aging before his eyes while he stayed ever young. Sam sailed after Rosie passed away. Éomer died in the autumn two years before. The men of Aragorn’s guard when he first took the throne were dead or fading before his eyes. Their sons served him now. This was not the first generation of men that had passed before his eyes, but this was the first he had spent the majority of in one place, the first he tied himself to closely. 

Aragorn sat upon his throne and attempted to focus on the day’s open court. Truly, he put a valiant effort towards it, but his mind refused to bend to his will. The citizens of Gondor brought their woes, struggles, and strife to him once a week - more often if he could manage it- and he always listened intently. He did his best to resolve each issue that came before him, and he was known for his attentiveness and benevolence amongst his subjects. Today he simply could not manage to keep his focus trained upon the proceedings. It was instead in the building nearly directly below him where Merry and Pippin had resided for some time now. Neither were well. The ravages of age spared none of the mortal beings of Middle Earth, no matter how desperately those who would outlive them wished it to be otherwise. Their aged bodies looked like shadows of the young hobbits Aragorn had once known. Merry struggled to use his right arm no matter how Aragorn strove to heal it. Pippin fared far worse. His lungs failed him frequently, and his knees plagued him with pain. Despite it all, they still insisted on coming up to the citadel for nearly every meal, and their spirits were high as ever. Age and weariness could not diminish those, nor could it quiet their laughter. Withered as he was, Pippin continued to be as unruly as in his youth. Except for the past few days. Of late, He seemed distant - like he had one foot beyond this land. 

Heavy boots thundered down the hallway towards the throne room. Aragorn tensed. All eyes turned to face the source of the sound. Eldarion came to a skidding halt before his father. He faced King Elessar red in the face and panting. “Pippin?” Aragorn asked. His voice was already thick and choked with tears. His son need not answer. Lest peril had befallen his siblings or mother, there was nothing that would have made him run so. All the same, Eldarion nodded. Aragorn rose slowly from his seat and composed himself enough that he hoped his voice would not shake. “Court is adjourned for the day.” His voice held an air of finality which none dared defy. “Please see the Master of Ceremony on your way out, and he will take note of that which you came to address. When I am able, I will review all issues submitted. Now I must attend to a matter that I fear cannot wait.” With instructions given, Aragorn stepped down from the throne and moved as hastily as he could without looking entirely undignified through the crowd of subjects, but as soon as he was out of sight of the main hallways and corridors, he was running.

The air in Bair Nestad felt stifling. There was a tension that could have been sliced through by a sword. Every healer stepped aside wordlessly and bowed their heads as Aragorn made his way to Pippin’s room. Typically, he was greeted with warm smiles entering this space, and not infrequently he offered aid or advice. Not this day, however. The scene that greeted Aragorn on the other side of the door brought him up short. Merry - old and stiff as he was - was seated cross legged on the too big bed. Tears ran silently down his cheeks while he dabbed at Pippin’s forehead with a wet towel. The younger hobbit’s face was pale. Far paler than he had been even the night before. A cough had plagued him for weeks, but he had continued to claim all was well. Now his lips had gone blue. Even the sound of heavy footsteps did not rouse Pippin. “The fever took him in the night. Didn’t tell a soul,” Merry said without prompting, “he can’t catch his breath anymore.”

At the sound of Merry’s voice, Pippin’s eyes opened slowly. His gaze was unfocused and distant until he saw Aragorn. At the sight, his face broke into a weak smile, but before he could say a word a coughing fit that wracked his entire frail body overtook him. “Let me go fetch some herbs. We can treat the fever and soothe the cough,” Aragorn began, but Pippin shook his head with what little strength he could muster.

“There is nothing left to try,” he croaked. His voice was so faint that it could barely be heard even in the silent room. “Just come sit with me, my old friend.” Aragorn sighed. Every part of him yearned to fight the invisible foe that plagued Pippin. This was no battle that could be won with Andúril, nor yet by all the trainings of Elrond in the days of his youth. This battle was the same one that destroyed the Númenoreans and nearly decimated Gondor itself. It was one with no victory. The battle against time and age. 

“As you wish,” Aragorn answered reluctantly after several seconds.

Aragorn sat beside Pippin for hours. There was idle chatter here and there. Sometimes with Merry while Pippin slept. Every once and a while, he would wake, and the three friends would recount the old days, rather Merry and Aragorn retold Pippin’s favorite stories to him with Pippin correcting them when they forgot the fabrications he added over the years. Eldarion and all those who had come to love the Thrain over the years came by to say their goodbyes. The King never left his Knight’s side. Eventually Pippin let him send for Athelas to ease the pain that came with each coughing fit. It comforted all who sat vigil, and the tension lessened in Pippin’s face while it brewed beside him. The room smelled of the woods of The Shire, and when Pippin first smelled it, he smiled and sighed. “Home…would that I could see it once more.”

“Maybe you can, Pip! We might be able to take one last grand adventure yet!” Merry tried to make the words sound hopeful, but they came out hollow.

“I think the only adventure that awaits me, old Merry, is whatever comes next. If you do make it back to The Shire, tell Faramir I love him for me. I’ll tell Sam and Frodo ‘hello’ for you, when I get wherever I am going - if they ever went there, that is.” Pippin’s words were weak. 

With each time he woke, his gaze became more distant. Both Merry and Aragorn clung tightly to his hands as though they could keep their friend with them for even a few extra moments if they just held on tight enough.

“Merry lad,” Pippin murmured at length. 

“Yeah, Pip?”

“I don’t know if I ever thanked Treebeard for making me the tallest hobbit on record. Could you do that for me, please?” Both Merry and Aragorn laughed through the tears rolling down their cheeks.

“I think I can manage that, but I think he knows you are grateful to him for it. Don’t worry about that just now.”

“I wish I could see him again. Him and Quickbeam. They are such odd fellows. And Bombadill. We never would have made it home without them.”

“We will make sure they all know they were on your mind,” Aragorn said gently and had to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

“We never could have made it home without you either, and to think we almost didn’t trust you to go with us at all.”

“Well, don’t go counting me in that tally, Pip. I wasn’t there to not trust him, remember?” Pippin laughed. The sound came out more as a wheeze that caused him to start coughing once more. His lips were even more blue than when Aragorn first reached the Houses of Healing, and Pippin’s fingers were cold in his hand. “But I won’t fight your revisions - just this one time,” Merry added as an afterthought.

“Our King and protector from the day we met you,” Pippin said. A smile graced his features, and for just one last moment Aragorn could see the young hobbit that asked him about second breakfast, and then Pippin’s eyes fell closed for the final time. The name Strider seemed to hang in the air, but Aragorn never heard it again. 

Epilogue:

Pippin laid in state for a week. Tradition stated he be laid to rest in his uniform, but Merry insisted he wear his favorite coat and scarf, and so it was. At Aragorn’s insistence, Pippin’s livery lay folded at his feet to carry his honor with him wherever this last journey took him. Aragorn would not dream of laying Pippin to rest in his uniform either. He was a hobbit of The Shire foremost and a soldier second, but he fought valiantly. He needed that honor to stay with him. His sword, in true warrior’s fashion, was placed upon his breast. It was an odd picture: the bright colors of a hobbit’s traditional dress paired with the barrow blade. It felt fitting for the hobbit who caused trouble everywhere he went. Aragorn could think of nothing that would bring Pippin more joy than to know he caused a ruckus in court even in his death.

Mourners lined up all the way down to the fifth level to bid farewell to Ernîl Pheriannath. Each day the queue would begin at sunrise, and each day they came to lay flowers at the base of the bed upon which he rested and say their final goodbyes. A mere few hours before Pippin’s funeral, Aragorn stood before him. Aragorn wore no royal finery - hadn’t since he returned to his chambers from Bair Nestad - instead he wore the same clothes he wore the very first night he met the hobbits in Bree. The coat had more patches and the shirt was more threadbare than that night, but it mattered not. They were more treasured to Aragorn than any ceremonial tunic and cloak. No other hand mended them, not even Arwen. Now more than ever before they felt sacred. A last anchor to the Ranger of the North to which Pippin swore to serve as anchor. 

Each time Aragorn thought he could cry no more tears, more welled in his eyes. Now he wept openly. The sobs rang off the stone walls. It was not the first time in the past week he found himself in this position. The first night Merry found him there, and they cried together. When there were no tears left in either of them, they took a bottle of elven wine to the outer wall and drank and shared stories until the sun rose.

This night nobody came, and Aragorn was glad for it. Anger held his heart as much as grief. Blessed with long life, they said. It was no blessing to watch nearly all he held dear fade before his eyes. It was a curse greater than any he could fathom. There were only so many friends one man could lay to rest and watch sail away from him. Each time Aragorn stood before a crowd and spoke of the courageous deeds of those he fought beside and journeyed with it felt like his world shrunk that much more. Pippin left the world far smaller than his small stature accounted for and quieter than Aragorn could have ever predicted. At each turn he expected to hear “Strider!” called from down the hall followed by the sound of small bare feet slapping the stone. 

With a shaky step, Aragorn stepped up to Pippin. For just a moment, Aragorn saw the hobbit as he was during the War of the Ring: a young hobbit asleep in a bed roll who needed to be roused for another day on the march. A simpler time - albeit infinitely more perilous. A time before Aragorn wore the weight of the winged crown. “Strider I shall ever remain, my dear hobbit, ere I draw my last breath. I shall not let the wings of my crown fly me away from my roots.”

Bonus:

Aragorn never experienced the Sea Longing of the elves, but he knew when it was time to lay himself down for his final rest. His body did not move as it once did, and he was weary. This world no longer held him like it once did. When the time came, he said his goodbyes and felt no regrets. Arwen asked one last time for him to say, but Middle Earth was no longer his home. Aragorn had given every piece of himself to it. To saving it. Rebuilding it. Nurturing it. Growing it. His time had come to an end. When Aragorn shut his eyes for the last time, rest took him quickly, and at last he was at peace. 

He tried to roll over and shield himself from the light to sleep a few more minutes, but then his mind caught up to what he had just done. Aragorn’s eyes snapped open, and he was forced to blink against the brightness until his eyes adjusted to light around him. It seemed to have no clear source. He was laying in an unfamiliar bed. The room was nondescript and unadorned with no windows. Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed, assessing the situation. An open door faced him with an even brighter hallway beyond it. With no other clear option, he slid on the boots beside him. The feel of the old leather brought a smile to his face. Then he grabbed the familiar green leather jacket laying on the end of the bed, and walked out into the hallway. 

One end of the hall was a dead end and the other was the source of all the light. It was a blindingly bright glow that obscured any terminus. Aragorn faced it and concluded that was the only way he was supposed to go. With a sigh, he set out to whatever lay beyond. As he neared the light, it resolved into a large, open corridor with many hallways branching off of it. Aragorn looked from one direction to the other and froze. His eyes flitted from side to side. Anxiety seized him. Just as he was about to choose a direction at random, the sound of small, bare, running feet came echoing down the hall on his left. Aragorn froze. He refused to feel hopeful. Refused to look. “Strider!” a familiar voice cried from his left. Aragorn’s breath caught in his throat. Fifty three years he had waited to hear that voice say the name that had hung in the air since after he died. “Strider!” he called again, and Aragorn turned to see Pippin barreling towards him at a pace the hobbit had not been able to run for many years. He looked just as he had that first night in Bree down to his jacket and scarf. 

“Pippin,” Aragorn sobbed and fell to his knees just in time to catch Pippin in his arms. “My dear, dear hobbit. How I have missed hearing you call that name.”

“Did you manage to stay firmly on the ground, or did those wings you wore fly you away? I hoped I reminded you who you are enough times before I left you, but I have fretted a few times that I didn’t quite do enough.”

Aragorn shuffled back from Pippin enough to take a good look at him and shook his head in disbelief. “You did plenty enough to remind me who I am, but I hope I never have to go without hearing you call my name - whichever you want at any time and in any place - ever again.”

“Well, you are in luck, Strider. As it turns out, we hobbits go the same place men do, and everyone is waiting for you.”

A/N: So I made myself cry like 17 times writing the last parts of this thing. I apologize for the pain, but I hope you enjoyed!

///////////////////////////Tagging those who liked my original post//////////////////

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[fisheito]

Crimson Phantom: the one that gfkion got me

Flashback to my old yakutier list: in the top tier, you'll notice that one of these is not like the others:

SO WHAT IS IT DOING THERE????????

Perhaps the reason Crimson Phantom R5 ranks so high is cuz of the PERSONAL HISTORY i got with it. The straw that broke the fish's back? the last drop of water that makes the cup run over and spill onto my socks MOST iRRITATINGLY?Hm. Maybe. Prepare yourself for the longest post yet:

Let me give you a timeline...

May 2022: start playing nuca during Mystical Banquet. First SSR is Endless Banquet Garu. I am intrigued by his musculature and adorable puppy eyes. July 2022: Idol Fest. I only care about Olivine. Captain Oli is the one SSR i get, and i am exceedingly happy. October 2022: Eerie Escapade. I pull for Garu, but get 3 Yakumos. I am bitter and ignore him entirely. November 2022: I don't have many SSRs, so I consider building my 2-star vampire yaku. This would involve unlocking his rooms for the stat boost. I ask Friend A, who also plays nuca, what his rooms are like. Friend A says "it was roleplay cringe but free' I respond, "i expected as much" and do not build up vampire yaku. December 2022: I get Friend B to start playing nuca. Since we live together, it is very easy to spark impromptu , impassioned nuca discussions in the middle of the kitchen. February 2023: Friend B discovers the main menu- Past Events and Galleria, most notably. Their eyes sparkle as they look thru the events they missed. "When did you start playing?" they ask. "Since THIS event." i say, pointing to the Mystical Banquet banner. "Can I see who you have?" I give them my phone. They express mild awe as they scroll. We continue life as usual. March 2023: Friend B gets Spring Chaos Edmond and i am JEALOUS. I say so- regularly and loudly. During one such griping session, this occurs:

Me: you JUST started playing . you cannoT be destroying me in the rolls like this!!! i'm getting NOTHING!! Friend: but you have so many units that I don't! That I didn't even have a chance to get!!! Me: none of them are Beautiful Bride Edmond??!!! Friend: BUT YOU HAVE VAMPIRE YAKUMO Me: ?????????? so??? Friend: GOD HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL AND I'M SO SAD I MISSED HIM Me: you can have him. he's not doing anything over here. i wanted garu!! Friend: YOU HAVEN'T EVEN UNLOCKED HIS ROOMS? THAT'S NOT FAIR. GIVE HIM TO ME. I'LL TREAT HIM RIGHT Me: i wish i could dude i wish i could

Please imagine the utmost confusion on my face the moment my friend equated Bride Edmond's beauty to Vampire Yakumo's.

Because,, from the moment I started nuca, I had zero interest in yakumo's general aesthetic. I was long soured off the vibes due to an extensive history of dating sims shoving a Certain Guy into my face:

"Certain Guy AKA 1st potential love interest is imperious red/black guy who's also kinda the True Ending so we're only giving you the illusion of free will and you will be disappointed by the lack of care we give to other routes compared to this guy. You wanted a character that wasn't him? HAHAHA nah that nobody dies in a ditch offscreen. You were SUPPOSED to fall in love with the 1st guy we showed you and find his attitude problems attractive for the rest of your blissfully coupled life." (The freshest wound at the time was Nobunaga from that Specific branch of the ike series)

Butbutbut!! Yakumo is not imperious??? He's nothing like what you're describing??

Yes, dear reader, your assessment is fair. UNfORtUNATeLY, I'm a shallow ho and just the LOOK of his redblack skeleton embroidery was enough to repel me. The only thing that kept Yakumo in the Neutral zone was that his story self was Wibbly.

Looking at VAMPIRE yakumo, however... This was not wibbly. Here, with his hair slicked back and his torso seemingly widened and his generic bishonen-vampire-halloween-cosplay ...... it irked me. I did not like it. This look was everything I hated about those redblack domineering types haunting my past. The one interesting thing about yakumo (his wibble. his personality subversion of the aggro trope) and they GOT RID OF IT? Nah. I'm not into it. I refuse it out of principle.

I was steadfast in my dismissal of vampyaku for months.. But that was because I played alone- without outside influence.

Then that March conversation with Friend B happened.

SUDDENLY, SOMEONE introduces the POSSIBILITY that YAKUMO in THIS form can be attractive? Huh? Seriously? People think that?Legitimately never occurred to me. Unfortunately, my friend's words are in my head now.

During that convo (a convo which, unbeknownst to me, caused the first cracks in the healthy moderation i held for this game), i jokingly offered to unlock vampire yaku's rooms so my friend could watch them. A peace offering. "PLEASE!!!!!", they yelled,, with effusive sincerity.

Ah... well now I had to commit...

Determined to give my friend a Nice Thing, I threw excess knives at yakumo in my spare time. "I might as well unlock these rooms, and see how bland they are, and maybe sorta achieve vindication when I show them to my friend and they find out how Not Worth It vampire yakumo is compared to bride edmond" (I am fueled by spite and pettiness.)

thus, with time... ROOM 1 UNLOCKED!

Yakumo is wallowing again. Nothing new. He's handling the new cooking duties well, though. Good for him! Eiden is perceptive and wonderful, as usual... ah, eiden, beloved eiden.....i adore him and all the Sense he brings to these traumatised clan members ☺ Oop, there they go! initiating the cliche roleplay! Biting. Blood. Yep. Guess we're doing this.

AND NOW WE'RE GONNA TALK ABOUT ROOM 2

I was so self-satisfied when i unlocked R2. I mean, i wasn't going to show my friend until i unlocked EVERYTHING, but so far? From what I saw? this ain't it. this is SAD. this is... so very unsexy.

the only thing anchoring me to the present while watching this room was eiden's cheeky self. As Friend A remarked long ago, this was indeed cringe roleplay (but eiden is free).

I'm not very adept at voice reading/recognition, but i still felt something was up with yaku's voice. Meaning, it was different. he was REALLY laying it on heavy... It being the Role? Where was his tremulous soft voice? Naaaaaah, here in R2 we got yaku DROPPING octaves like they're on fire and affecting a drawl that...i think... is supposed to add to the seductive dangerous mood? i think? i'm really not good at parsing the horny from the Not fjkdrhgdu

with every extended vowel leaking thru yaku's fangs MY ANTI-NOBUNGA DEFENSES ARE BRISTLING yaku is REALLY playing it [Count Drakumo] up and he is NOT himself and, wait, he's spiralling? ooohhhhhh ok this is not good this is not fun he is not having fun

yes ok we've been over this my boner is dead killed by sadness that's just me not everybody is like me and i should let ppl like what they like MOVING ON

ROOM 3: OOOh Girl How they gonna react after THAT disastrous scene Woah!

Yakumo, angry???? Standoffish???? REfusing to be near Eiden? Interesting.... I mean. No! Not interesting! There's nothing interesting about vampire yakumo! Cliche as hell!!! Conventionally decent-lookin whatever-man is growling and hiding his face in a shadowy corner while saying things like "oh i'm a horrible monster .who could truly love me?!" and "stay away!! i'll only hurt you!!!"

Eiden: starts spouting truths about how the perception of "bad" and "undesirable" traits don't negate an entire person's positive traits and that someone's value can't be determined by such rigid thinking

Me: dammit eiden. stop making sense. i'm trying to hold a grudge here .............i'm starting to get hungry...

ROOM 4: OOPS I LOVE EIDEN AGAIN

I LOVE YOU EIDEN AND READING THIS ROOM MADE ME LOVE YOU EVEN MORE yakumo is, once again, spiralling in his self-hatred. i, on the other side of the screen, am getting weary. tbh, if you asked me to react to yakumo in real time, i would not know how to behave appropriately. i probably would have dismissed his concerns in some way (empty reassurances or bored ignoring).

but eiden??? ebeatutiiful emotionally UNconstipated FULL OF EMPATHY FIBRE eiden? candid... communicative... accepting yet not encouraging the dark thought patterns. . a self-aware king...

so when eiden gets in front of that mirror to demonstrate the self-talk "training":

I AM SO ENDEARED AND IM LO IBVE UHJIJM....

When Eiden gives yaku a chance to try, poor snakey doesn't know what to say. So Eiden whispers all these nice words and affirmations while standing behind yaku, expecting him to repeat them outloud THEN OF COURSE THE SILLY GUY ESCALATES TO HORNY AND I HAVE TO 🤣🤣🤣

ok, i'll begrudgingly admit... pretty cute interaction... and funny... if there's one way to win me over it's The Funny... how dare. how dare this room make me smile. I'm having a little giggle. Over a Yakumo room. THANKS eiden. For injecting humour into anything and making everything seem more tolerable...

After the practice run, Yaku ends up spilling his actual fears about his dual natures... but eiden insists that he can handle both.

yaku: if i think these dark thoughts does that make me a bad person eiden: well we all have layers n stuff so go wild yaku: if. if i. wanna lock u away all for myself and gnaw on your bones forever and keep u attached to my skin like an anglerfish absorbs mates into their flesh. will u hate me??? eiden: girl let your freak flag fly. i can take u ;););)

OKAY. SO MAYBE I CAN SORT OF SEE THE POTENTIAL FOR *NOT-AS-SAD* HORNY. THIS IS QUITE NICE (i comment mildly, gesturing to the emotional catharsis and deepening your understanding of another person). Now that yaku is emboldened in uh, being himself? all versions of himself? let's see how boinking is gonna go. hopefully it will be quite the departure from R2's struggle hours...

FUFIOKIN. ROOM 5: BANE OF MY EXISTENCE

The FIRST thing that strikes me when the room starts is

EIDEN YOU ARE SO HOT WHAT TH BRWOIJAOIEWFSKAESFKJLFEA?

INIPPL?

EIDEN'S HANDS? I'M BITING THEM? LET ME BITE THEM??? Yeah so i'm just staring at eiden displayed proudly in the mirror and a bird could probably land in my mouth with how it was hanging open, thinking, "yall know how to lewd your protagonist, nuca.... respect....." i'm distracted, but i need to move the room along so

.? ⚠! (ALERT NOISE) (ping!) the only yakumo room i've unlocked at this point is the OG SSR/Story H. i may have seen idol r2, too. so my current image of yakumo at this point is: -wet -crying -subby little baby

therefore, him saying he's GOING TO TEASE EIDEN causes my brow to upturn. 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 really? really, yakumo? YOU? are you even capable of doing that? can you do more than one thing [be wet baby]? i doubt it. these games always choose one niche for a character and stick to it... you caNNOT drift into switchery. try it i dare u (<- famously lesser-known last words)

eiden, in line with "i can take all of you", responds that he likes both. and btw, this ain't one-sided. he warns that he's about to weaponise bottoming again. if yakumo thinks he can just lead eiden around, lolollololo l good luck. my boy's gonna squeeze him dry (seriously. i have zero faith in yakumo's ability to stay in control of any situation)

OK! so! they're fukin *mundane hand gesture. rollin it along*

yakumo slows his roll and is all, actually, part of the fun is looking at you confused and needy :3 so he's going at a super lax pace and adjusting his dick angle and some other tactical penis feint that's edging eiden into horny frustration

as if i'm cheering on my fave racehorse, i start YELLING when eiden ~~snatches back the reins~~~~

WEAPONISE! 👏THAT!! 👏BOTTOM!!!!!!!👏🏭🎬ATTABOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!📣📣📣🔊📢🔊🎖🥳📣🔊📢

wait what ........HOW HAS HE NOT LOST IT? if eiden went off on me like that, uhhhhhhhhhhh hahahaha rest in pesis i'm losing immediately but... crybaby.... is holding it together? in fact, he somehow TAKES CONTROL AGAIN??????? THET F ????

idk guess i'm shocked with processing another side of yakumo that i didn't expect,, i avoided yakumo because his look served potential for "2000s toxic seme" energy. but i tolerated him because his ACTUAL personality was NOT That. yet... now he's showing that exact domineery junk and i'm ..ok with it? Is it specifically because i've only seen him be pathetic in every other room?!

i'm just gonna...a. take a moment here to... maybe sort of understand the predicament i'm in along with my growing . something. admiration? for yakumo. uhhh.... hmmmm..........

yeah ok whatever people can be freaks about nipples i guess

SHIT I FORGOT HE HAS COLD HANDS . SHIT. I FORGOT I LIKE COLD HANDS SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M INTO THAT?

NOT THE NECK BITING AGAIN AHAHAHAHAAHHAHHA FOR REAL?????? VAMPIRE COSPLAY SERIOUS????? (<- my voice has gone an octave higher as i start panic laughing)

i don't know why i didn't expect that here. do i just not think ahead? it's stupid count drakumo. of course he's gonna suck blood. at least twice. maybe the rest of you saw it coming, and rolle dyour eyes. ahahaha, how very trite. how very standard.

did the active shattering of my preconceived yakumo.png weaken me THAT much? was i sudddenly swept up into the revelation thata game was Finally going beyond the yaoi dichotomy? to make someone subby AND dommy? Was i SO swept up that the "cringe vampire roleplay" bypassed my eyerolling sensor?!?!?!

i've got a single nervous bead of sweat making its way down my back and it's cuz of the very simple combo of hole/temperature/neck

so while i'm taking another impromptu wary pause , stewing at how DEVASTATED i may or may not be idk whatever it's not a big deal that the neck bite isn't shown on screen

LOGIC: that makes sense. animating and drawing that separate pose in this setup would be way too much work for 2 sentences. HORNY: TEAR INTO HIM. SUCK HIM DRY. LET ME

SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

yeah for real. I'M feeling attacked right now. eiden trying his best not to splort from the three-pronged feel-up (struggling like an amorous salmon up a waterfall) when suDNDEnly

......?

*RECORD SCRATCH* ?!?!?!?!?!??!?????!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!???!!!!!??????????????????????? ?????!?!?!?!?????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????E?!?FKFOO>>>>?VFF??A""????":??"??????!?!!??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

👆

WHAT WAS THAT?

*runs into the adjacent room like it's a reality tv privacy booth* *slams the door and stares incredulously at the camcorder* *points toward the room i just left*

IS THAT ALLOWED?

Is Yakumo legally allowed to say "fuck"?????

*falls into a hushed and baffled whisper* i don't have enough Japanese comprehension to parse exactly what yakumo said oh god i wish i had the comprehension is this a translator liberty? is it real? because if the original speech was actually more reserved but the translators were like "bro that ain't sexy. just write FUCK"?? i guess that wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility? but if yakumo legitimately said "fuck" ...... AND dropped the honorific from eiden's name?! .......... huh! ohhhhhhhh *ruffles my hair out of confusion* did he really say that? i mean ok he's a grown ass snan i shouldnt ' be scandalised like i hear d an infant say FUCK as its first word , 11 months out of the womb ....... *deep breath* ok. don't dwell on it. gotta return to the task at hand. *steadfastly turns the doorknob and returns to my previous location*

so eiden looks like what i feel right now (in the key of: !?!?!?) thankfully the surprise doesn't last long in the face of his shamelessness (blessed be eito), so he tries to repeat after yakumo but yakumo's drilling him so hard that brain mysgh muysh can't really... speak..prororperly

SUHUT THE FUCCK UP YAKUMO I'VE NEVER BEEN SO OFFENDED BY SUCH A SHORT SENTENCE GO AWAY WITH YOUR THIRTY SHADES OF COUNT DOMKUMO PARADING IN HERE THINKIN YOU CAN DISH OUT ORDERS LIKE THSI WHEN YOU'R E NORMALLY A SOBBING MESS BY NOW=====----

*pinches in between my brows* uueugh...... eiden doesn't get to finish his task but they go at it until the screen goes white with that powerful SPLOOSH we all know and love

and yakumo FINALLY breaks character getting juiced released a bit of his control i guess we hear an "uhu" at last. he uses his pathetic wibble to ask eiden for more because he's still hard. of course he is...... mans is never done.......dick ouroboros with the way he never ends.......

BUT THEN EIDEN PULLS A FACE THAT GRABS MY ENTIRE BRAIN AND FLOODS ME WITH SO MUCH AFFECTION

I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY JUST LOOK AT HIM SLUTTY BLEP i was having an out-of-body experience i was suddenly going over every BL i've ever played and how none of the protags were ever this unabashedly INTO IT (of course we are only here because we build upon the foundations of our gay ancestors THANK YOU GAYASS SPIRITS OF YORE , ) BUT! i'm experiencing a grand realisation of how far we've come and how eiden being a slutty versatile dweeb enriches my life to untold measures and his stupid cute little ;P thirsty look is going to sustain me for years and also i love it so much i'm going to screenshot it and keep it in my gallery just so i can look at it whenever i think about homophobia existing ever . i love u eiden get that dick and hole forever💖

now that yakumo is all vulnerable and Himself and freed from his edgy persona , he's just pounding into eiden liek 🥺 i'm just a normal snokai right? 🥺😥 so it's ok to act the way i truly want to❓ you'll accept all of me? 😖 i'm not a horrible irredeemable monster ?? 😧💦 you still want me? here?? with you???🥺🥺🥺 i'm allowed to make you feel good??😢?😭?😥 of course eiden affirms all this with a big moany yes (in surprisingly eloquent words despite the state of his anus)

and to top it all off, the room provides a full circle of plot by letting eiden complete his failed "repeat after me" task from before..- with a horny addendum about how he can't get enough of yakumo's dirty expressions, because of course our boy has to get the last word.

ahhh,,, like an epic movie,, it all comes together. loose ends tied and fucklines affirmed. tasks fulfilled; pervert's journey complete;; we, the audience, can go home with satisfied closure.

after-credits sceNe: when the post-nut clarity hits yakuei, i am brick'd with overwhelming concern about eiden's leg. how has it NOT cramped this entire time, being held up like that.? what was that? at least 15 minutes?! of lifting up one leg and spreading it so wide? damn, boy, is ya potassium that powerful? no calf cramps? nothing? eiden your sexual athleticism is unrivalled. i am in awe.

Note!

When i first watched these rooms, I didn't have headphones. Months later, i finally got to watch the scenes WITH SOUND. and i was so very pleased to hear that yakumo's voice in R5 was a nice middle ground between his suuuuper drawly heavy cosplay mode R2 angstvoice,, and his regular uhuu soft voice. it's definitely more himself, but with the added confidence of roleplaying ehuehue so it's just nice!! to hear him being more secure in himself!! and enjoying the situation!! but also teasing eiden and enjoying the power plays?? yay! near the end he returns almost fully to his regular voice due to , you know, whiny pleady 🥺 feels-too-good things afoot and that just .... upped the affection for me.... ugh... so he CAN do both......

in future watches, i eventually take the time to look at yakumo's face instead of eiden's. . .

and i do NOT like where my subsequent thoughts go

oh no he's hot.......................

WE RETURN TO REALITY. IT IS SOME TIME BETWEEN MARCH AND MAY (2023). I HAVE AT LAST UNLOCKED ALL OF CP YAKUMO'S ROOMS. I AM IN MY ROOM AND I AM SHOOKETHED. Shortly, I seek out Friend B, the catalyst for this train of horror and realisation. I tell them the task is done. Eventually, i give them my phone so they can watch their beloved vampire yakumo rooms. I couldn't even hand it over with the derisive scoff I THOUGHT I would show. the look of absolute dismissal that used to appear whenever someone mentioned crimson phantom yakumo. No, i handed it over with thinly concealed amusement . perhaps even excitement, that someone would soon share in something that so pleasantly surprised me. A part of me wished for them to return my phone with a disappointed "tch". to tell me that, oh, that wasn't very good after all. you were right. i could have missed out on vampire yakumo and lost nothing. Unfortunately, they returned my phone later that evening . their eyes glittered with the glee of someone whose hopes were beautifully fulfilled. "OH MY FUCKING GOD I KNEW it was gonna be amazing!", they bubbled. "Yeah." is all i could say... . I spend the following weeks slowly falling victim to yakumo's charms. By June, I am putting up posters of him all over my room while talking about how much i hate him.

SUMMARY: like nuca itself, it started as a joke and now the quences have conned. i'm suffering the cussions, reperfully. eiden did NOT help. he was beautiful and amazing from every angle and that added to the positive associations with these rooms,, and by extension, yakumo. and now? now i hate this snakeboy for what's he's done to me. i'm p sure he's actively moving the goalposts on my preferences as i type. i'm scared. he has too much power . that this mushy noodle would subvert tropes by following the old kabedon-seme script then DO IT AGAIN by hitting me with the SUBVERT REVERSE BEAM #2 and now i dream about railing him under the moonlight.

it was all downhill from that accursed roleplay. eiden's a gayteway drug. he fkoin got me. and now yakumo's got me too

[luringfantasy]

One by One 6/7 (final chapter part a)

PRELUDE

You were snooping around Loki's stuff to find his chest full of sex toys. He was not very pleased about it and has decided to punish you by using all his toys on you, one by one...

based on this imagine |

previous main masterlist

Warnings: use of "pet" names, BDSM, dom Loki, sub reader, female reader

MINORS DNI

NO PROOF READING

You were waiting. And all you did was to wait for Loki, but Saturday did not come, and neither did you..(XD). Loki was pulled into a mission, and it just kept getting extended week after week. You worked for Tony and occasionally for SHIELD, you hated Hydra, but this time the hate was personal. 

Those damned creatures kept Loki away from you, kept you from his glorious dick, how dare they!

Private Number : Prepare yourself, I won’t be stopping this time, little pet. -L

You knew exactly who this was, your heart started beating fast receiving his text like this, was the wait over? Although you decided to tease him a little bit.

You : who dis?Private Number : You are asking for trouble y/n, you know perfectly well “who dis” is.You : idk, it’s been so long, i might have forgotten Private Number : I see, perhaps my little dove needs a thorough reminding.

Him addressing you as “his” little dove made your heart soar. You have been working with him for so long, but didn’t realize that he even saw you as a friend let alone “his”. This was a conversation for future you. Much much later in the future, after you get a ride on his glorious, beautiful cock, mmm, definitely after that. Your thighs rubbed against each other, you would definitely not mind Loki “reminding” you. Though you didn’t know how much of anything you would retain once he started to fuck you.

You : When will u be back??Loki : Eager are we?

You imagined he must be chuckling lightly at your desperation.

Loki : Soon enough dove. And until then, you will save your sweet nectar for me and only me. Not even your own fingers should have a taste of what is mine!

Oh god, you were already desperate for him, using your own fingers to mimic his, trusting you silicon friend more often than not, and he wanted you to wait?

You : 😭😭Loki : Are you that happy?You : Wats there to be happy abt? U r being unfair.

You waited for him to say something but figured he was busy or maybe he didn’t deem this important enough to discuss. His word was final, he was letting you torture yourself, make you wait. You receive occasional texts from him, which did not help at all.

Loki : I am having the finest chocolate and I still want you on my tongue.Loki : Darling, do you know the traffic light system?You : ???Loki : Hmm, I suggest you look into it...

??? Seriously, what was this man thinking? You were now concerned for your safety. But the idea of Loki going feral on you turned you on more than it scared you. An inner voice told you that you should probably seek help, but, when have you listened to it when it concerned Loki?

After a week or so, you fell into a routine with him, texting him whenever you got some time. On days when he didn’t text you, you worried. And then patiently waited, hoping he was well. But it was impossible for you to wait, you almost went against his words to relieve yourself, but stopped at the very end. Then one day you were not so lucky, and very very very desperate. Your will power broke, and you had one of the best orgasms in a while, almost as good as the ones Loki gave you. The waiting does add to the intensity.

But now you are scared. You knew you cannot lie to Loki, he is the god of lies, but you didn’t want to confess to him either. You were already in this arrangement because you were going through his stuff behind his back, and now you broke his rule.

As a few days passed the guilt ate you from the inside, so you confessed to him over text. His reply was worse than anything you could have expected. It was an “OK.”, that too with a full stop! You were expecting him to reprimand you, but this meant only one thing, that he will take care of this matter when he arrives.

Loki : My place, right now.

This is the text you had been waiting for! Fcking finally. Finally some fucking! The last two weeks took a toll on you, not only did you abide by Loki’s rule and were super frustrated, you were also anxious about how Loki would punish you, for breaking his rule.

You were prepared for this evening for a very long time, you even bought a new pair of dark green lingerie for him.

As you walked towards his door, it hit you. The delicious smell, coming from his place, filled the whole corridor. Did he get you food? Before you even knocked the door, he opened it (damn his god powered hearing).

You immediately went in for a hug. “I missed you! You took too long for this!”. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you into him, then you felt him breathing you in. “And we both know that you lack any patience…” he whispered into your hair, which made you stiffen immediately, prompting a chuckle out of him.

(To be continued)

Thankyou for reading my work. And, well.. just thankyou.

TAGLIST: @lokixryss@alyeskathewave@ladymischief11@tukes@yelkmelk@crimson25

[naturesapphic]

Knight in shining armor part 2

Knight!Natasha romanoff x princess!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, and a little bit of fluff

It’s been a few months since the incident and life between you and Natasha has been great. Of course Natasha still had to be careful with her feelings towards you but she can’t deny it any longer that she was in fact in love with you. She still loved her job and wanted to be your number one protector so that’s why she’s been secret with her feelings towards you. If this gets out, she may be banish and lose her heroic ship forever. That’s why y’all aren’t a couple yet and that is why you went off to go see your parents. You had to tell them your feelings and that you want to be with Natasha. A few hours went by and you were overjoyed at the outcome of the long talk you had with your parents. You come out of the main hall and start searching for Natasha.

“Natasha?” You called out for her and decided to head to your room and try to call for her again. Natasha who had settled into her quarters for the night, hears the princess calling out to her and quickly makes her way to the princess's room. "Is everything alright, your highness?" she asks, concern etched on her features. You go over towards her and you look up at her with happiness in your eyes “Guess what! My family said that I can marry whoever I want! They said they don’t care what class they are in, as long as I am happy.” You exclaimed looking at you with hopeful eyes. Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise and joy upon hearing this news, even as she tries to control her emotions. "That is wonderful news, your highness! I am so happy for you." Natasha said oblivious to the fact that you chose her. Natasha smiles reassuringly at the princess. "But remember, it's important to choose someone who will treat you with the respect and love you deserve. Someone who will stand by you through thick and thin, and support you in all your endeavors." Natasha exclaimed and you had to hold back from rolling your eyes.

“I choose you Natasha…we of course don’t have to get married right away but…may I take you out on a nice picnic?” You say with glee and hopefulness in your voice. Natasha's cheeks flush at the princess's words, emotions swirling within her. While she had entertained feelings for the princess herself, she had never imagined that those feelings could work out. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before responding. "I...I am honored by your offer, your highness," she says softly. "But I must remind you that I am your knight and it is my duty to protect and serve you. We cannot engage in such activities without proper clearance and approval from the king." She pauses for a moment, considering her options. "But...if you would like to discuss this further, I am happy to do so. Perhaps we can talk about it over tea or go on that picnic you wanted.” Natasha responded. You give her a understanding nod, hoping that she gets that I can be with whoever I want, which means her “let me put on a comfortable dress, I’ll be right back.” You say as you go into the closet and puts on a cute white flower dress and comes back out.

Natasha nods in approval at the princess's attire, admiring the simplicity and elegance of her dress. She leads the princess to a private sitting area outside, near the garden, offering her a comfortable seat. "If I may be so bold, your highness," she says with a small smile. "what made you think of me as a potential partner?" She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever the princess's response may be. You sigh happily as you look at Natasha with love and admiration in your eyes. “because ever since you’ve became my personal knight, I’ve fallen in love with you…plus you are a woman and not a man.” You let out a giggle. “and because you are so brave and loyal…everytime I see you my heart flutters and it feels like it’s just you and me together in this earth…I told my parents about my feelings for you and at first they were against it but came to realize that they know that you will protect me and love me right and now they accept it and want us to marry one day.” You explained to her. Natasha's heart swells with emotion at the princess's words, feeling a rush of warmth suffuse her body as she takes in the princess's confession.

"I see," Natasha says, her voice soft and gentle. "I am honored that you would think so highly of me, your highness. And while I confess that the thought of being with you has crossed my mind more than once, as your knight it is my duty to remain professional and focused on ensuring your safety and well-being." Natasha stated. "Is there anything else I can do for you today?" Natasha asked you. You smile at her with love in your eyes. “hmmmm…can I have a kiss?” Natasha's heart races at the princess's request, her senses going into overdrive as she tries to maintain her composure. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before responding. "Your highness," she says firmly "As your knight, it is not appropriate for me to engage in such behavior with you. We must maintain a professional relationship at all times." She fidgets slightly, feeling a pang of regret at the princess's request. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?" A flash of hurt pangs on your face and you feel your heart breaking “did you not here what I just told you? we can be together. my family is supportive about it and you won’t lose your place as a knight…don’t you want to be with me..?” You whisper at the last part as tears fill your eyes.

Natasha's heart feels like it might break as she sees the hurt and tears in the princesses' eyes. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself and gather her thoughts. "Your highness," she says softly, Her tone softens as she continues, her voice filled with empathy and understanding. "But know that my feelings for you are real and genuine. If ever there comes a time when we can be together without compromising my duties, I would be honored to be with you." She reaches out to gently wipe tears from the princess as she doesn’t want to risk anything happening to her job as your knight. Natasha's heart feels like it might break as she sees the hurt and tears in the princesses' eyes. "Princess," *she says softly, "I never said I didn't want to be with you, but my duty as a knight comes first. It is not appropriate for us to engage in any type of intimate relationship while I am sworn to protect and serve." Her tone softens as she continues, her voice filled with empathy and understanding. "But know that my feelings for you are real and genuine.” She reaches out to gently wipe tears from the princess eyes. “You still don’t understand do you…what can I do that will make us be together.” I look up at you pleadingly. "I'm sorry, your highness," Natasha says softly, her heart heavy with sorrow. "But no amount of pleading or convincing can sway me from my duty as a knight."

She takes a deep breath before continuing, her voice laden with sadness. "I know this must be hard to hear, but we must learn to accept the reality of our situation. Our relationship must remain professional in order to protect the well-being of the kingdom and its people." She looks at the princess kindly, her eyes searching hers for any sign of understanding and acceptance. "I will always be here for you, your highness. As your faithful knight, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy." Natasha says to you kindly. You feel your heart break and your face turns a bit cold. You stand up and walk away, heading to the castle. Natasha watches with a heavy heart as the princess walks away, feeling a deep pain in her chest. She takes a deep breath and steels herself, determined to continue her duty in protecting the princess at all costs. "Your highness," she calls after you. "Please, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I am always here for you." She watches until the Princess is out of sight before turning back to her guard duties, trying to push aside her own emotions for the sake of her mission.

A/n: 1485 words. part three will be posted soon :) check out my Rhea ripley imagine that I posted and Requests for her are opened. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

the truth is more important than my reputation, and anyone willing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try.

i cannot stop thinking of our earlier discussion.

you enjoy making things complicated, don't you?

you can't be serious.

i simply wanted to steal a moment, while i still can.

i will not let him take you from me.

i want a man who sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. i want the ideal.

pretend you don't know this about me.

the flirting. with me. i've... noticed it. unless it is my imagination, which is entirely possible.

i'm thinking less flattering things now.

perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.

what makes you think i would welcome your pity?

you so rarely call me by my name, [name]. why is that?

you were together for a long time?

i enjoy fighting at your side, [name].

you're not as handsome as you think.

romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. it is passion. it is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. what is not to like about that?

i was hoping we could speak privately.

you're smiling a great deal these days. do you always do it while staring dreamily into the distance?

such fascinations reveal far more about the teller than the truth.

i did not realize it took so little to exceed your expectations.

i do not trust any event where hitting someone isn't an option.

me? in a dress? it's ludicrous!

what would i have to blush about?

i take it you think i'm frightening?

if you had done that in our last sparring match, you might have won.

were you not suggesting earlier i should be more intimidating?

how is manipulating and bullying people supposed to be enjoyable?

i don't wear "underpants."

if you are going to pursue this, make it worth it. be happy.

i've never considered what i must look like to someone common. i must indeed seem terrifying.

i wasn't very interested to begin with.

you will never let that go, will you?

i do not "rough people up."

do not pretend to be an innocent bystander.

are you eager to see me go?

what we had was fleeting.

this... is not a discussion i want to have here.

not all my feelings involve stabbing.

i am not without my sympathy, especially given recent events.

i thought you might be concerned.

i suppose that is all we will ever know.

thank you, [name]. that... does make me feel better.

i assume you have advice?

when it is done, i promise what you have done here will not be forgotten.

i thought you would be pleased.

no one has ever accused me of reinforcing reality before.

i should not have asked.

you have seen so much sadness in your journeys.

your opinion of me must be very low to surprise you so often.

i know myself and i cannot be the leader we need. thus, i have no regrets.

the world hinges on our actions. we face death at every turn.

it was an accident. well... mostly an accident.

we must pray it never comes to that.

what made you change your mind?

[mmogurl]

So, last night I finally got through Daemon's arc in Fire and Blood.. There are going to be major spoilers in this post, so only click -keep reading- if you have read it already.. or don't care if I spoil it by talking frankly about its contents! I will be discussing Rhaenyra as well as Aemond. **SPOILERS!! IF YOU KEEP READING! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

So, I am just completely wrecked by his ending and how Rhaenyra basically pushes him to it with her psychotic, stupid ways. I mean.. I strongly disliked Rhaenyra after the show, before even reading the book (especially after that fight where she says she can't trust him which is not in the book). But now after reading it, I utterly despise her! She's awful! Horrible.. and the worst kind of stupid! It's like, she just goes kind of nuts, but nobody notices that she has. But it's so obvious that she is not thinking clearly, that or she truly doesn't care about anyone or anything.. Like they are all just pawns to her, dogs to use. But then she doesn't even know how to move them properly on the board - hence my calling her stupid.. I feel like her response of ordering Nettles death was the last nail in the coffin for Daemon, and he was just like.. Fuck this shit.. I mean she literally says, she doesn't care if the lord there takes her head in her sleep.. and she slept with Daemon! Can you imagine that shit?? And this is after she said it's perfectly ok for him to sleep around with Mysaria while Rhaenyra is seemingly uninterested in him, so it's not like she was jealous. But, it seemed like he might have actually cared for Nettles and so he sends her away to save her from all the fucking madness surrounding Rhaenyra and by proxy himself... The line where he and Aemond are talking and the young prince says he's lived long enough.. where Daemon simply replies.. "On that much we can agree," is just so telling.

Imagine having been instrumental in putting Rhaenyra on the throne only to have it become so fucked in the end. And ultimately, I don't think he has the heart to do what he SHOULD do.. which is kill her.. he just decides to go off and die an honorable death in battle like a fucking Viking warrior going off to Valhalla.. But it's so bittersweet.. I hated it.. hated how it all felt like it was for nothing.. because Rhaenyra's a fucking idiot who can't listen to a god damned bit of advice from her much more experienced husband! Like, he suggests TWICE in the book to give Ulf and Hugh something to keep them happy and twice she refuses! So how does it come as a surprise when they turncoat?? But let's be realistic.. the whole Red Sowing was fucking foolhardy to begin with! Tell me, does it make sense to give the power of a god to bastards with no allegiance!? And then to not even buy their allegiance!? It's. just. stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. I'm going to be writing my fic with even more fervor now, because honestly, the entire war in the book.. What happens to Maelor, what happens at Tumbleton!? It's all a nightmare and should be avoided.. A terrible, terrible wrong that must be made right! Ugh! Rhaenyra was already an opponent in my fic - In the Shadow of Dragons. Without spoiling the story, I already have it out for her, but now it's on like fucking Donkey Kong, bitch! Ugh, and to lose Daemon and Aemond at the same time!?! X_X!!! It was at least an awesome battle and the art in the book was epic level, but they are both my favorites and now they are both dead. Now all that is left is to read about how cake eating, psycho Rhaenyra gets overthrown. I am currently at the part where King's Landing has gone into revolt.. and I'm thinking it won't be pretty for her when it happens. And there's another thought.. when you see everything awful that happens under Rhaenyra's rule, one cannot help but consider.. That even Aegon might have done a better job!

/End Rant

[notmorbid]

grey dog.

dialogue prompts from grey dog by elliott gish.

to my future self: my apologies, and godspeed.

i do not travel well, at the best of times.

i was raised in a small town. they suit me very well.

let's get a bit of supper in you.

happiness is an act of will.

there are two gods: the god of inside, and the god of outside.

who are you?

you frightened me. i thought i was alone.

you're never alone out here.

more hands make less work.

every day it gets better. you just mind that.

i feel wrung out as an old rag.

the fiercest tigers make the best mothers.

what a mess i've made of you.

i was about to put the kettle on.

i like you as you are.

rumors fly faster and further than the truth.

you deserve a chance to let your hair down.

certain things are not to be discussed.

is there anything more tiresome than a sunday school picnic?

there's no such thing as witches.

i thought it would be a dreadful trial, but you made it easy.

you are a perfect strawberry.

it will get worse before it gets better.

every town needs its witch, doesn't it? someone to whisper about in the dark?

i thought of ___ as a friend.

a young girl's reputation is as fragile as ice on a water bucket.

i don't want you to be alone in the dark.

i'm glad you came here.

you're the last thing i expected to find here.

a child may know that there are no monsters under the bed, but he will take a running leap onto the mattress, anyway. just in case.

nothing occurs in the natural world that cannot be understood through patient observation.

you can always follow me out of the dark.

if i am to drink hemlock, then let it be in good company.

you're going to run out of exclamation points, if you don't use them more sparingly.

don't you quote scripture at me.

did you think i materialized fully formed in this house?

i have a past, just as you do. just as everyone does.

widowhood has much to recommend it.

you must be going mad with boredom.

it does not become you, this passion for tragedy.

if that happened to me, i would hate god.

how have you been keeping?

you spoke the truth, and shamed the devil every time.

you have never loved anything but your own blessed reputation.

it was ordinary, in the beginning. i must remember that.

there are always eyes in the dark.

it isn't in the bible, but that doesn't mean it isn't so.

you are many things to me, but a mother is not one of them.

i can't imagine you crying.

a holiday might do you good.

my nerves are raw as meat.

i want to fend off sleep and dreams as long as i can.

it's funny, isn't it, the things that frighten us as children.

a monster seen is a monster that can be dealt with.

the shine is off the world.

you can come in, you know.

pretty is as pretty does.

what has happened to you?

whatever happened, god didn't stop it. doesn't that make it his will?

it will be alright, won't it?

you should've told me. i would have made you a cake.

did you never have birthday parties when you were a child?

so many unhappy memories. we must make a better one.

what is happening to me?

perhaps you could read to me?

i know it's a bit childish, but i like being read to when i'm not well.

there was a knock. surely you heard it.

watch me from the shadows, will you? whisper my name? come out and look me in the eye.

why are you laughing? what is it that you find so very funny?

get out of here right now, or you will catch it.

you and i know how much more there is out there in the wide, wild world.

not enraged. outraged.

what do you have to cry about?

i don't want to hear. i don't want to see.

i may be doomed, but i am not mad.

no one has ever wanted me so much.

an older sister can fix anything.

i really thought i would be able to simply carry on.

idle hands are the devil's playthings.

i need to speak to you about that night.

you are my friend. the truest friend i have.

i want to understand what happened. and to help, if i can.

a hurt animal will bite, even when someone is trying to dress its wounds.

i don't care about inconvenience, or what people think. i care about you.

you're solicitous as an angel.

i can scarcely remember the last time i wasn't nervous.

your voice is not your own, nor your expression.

i am well used to lying by omission.

it does not do for a woman to be too clever.

isn't that strange? to hate someone you have never met?

it spoke to me. it knew my name.

i don't want to be in the dark.

you know, don't you? you know for certain.

i tried to turn back, but i couldn't.

when you say 'it', what do you mean?

it's worse than not having it at all: having it, and then not having it.

is the truth something i owed you?

if i owe you my past, do you owe me yours?

every woman is full of tragedies. she is obliged to share them with no one but god.

i have nothing but questions, and no answers.

i am like a lost handkerchief: i turn up when i'm least expected.

i only did what you asked of me.

fear makes you ugly.

you are such an innocent, in spite of everything.

can you not recognize when you are being wooed?

no one has ever wooed me before.

people avoid me now.

a woman laughing is always a disturbing thing for a man to witness.

the value of knowledge does not need to be justified by utility.

you have never thought of what is best for me. only what is best for you.

what power have you over me now?

it pains me to see you so changed.

i am more myself than i have ever been before.

i am not a thing that you can shape. not anymore.

the prospect of being hanged sharpens the mind most wonderfully.

your heart is cold. beneath that skin of yours is only ice, not blood.

i have so little patience left.

you must take this to your grave.

there are a lot of stories about you.

you get to where you can recognize it. that look someone has.

intentions and prayers are useless to me.

[therealslimshakespeare]

I saw your answer about being burned out on Gigi but still being open to discussing the topic -

are there any little fun tidbits or ideas you had planned that you could drop in the answer box as a little treat?

Was there an eventual endgame for her?

Anything quirky or outrageous set to take place with her in her story?

Would Gigi ever change her ways and act grown up?

XOXOX you are my favorite writer on this whole entire app you must know

My darling, yes, yes, yes I am happy to talk of it! And I’m so happy you popped in. I cannot believe I’m your favorite, that’s just stunning to me, I’m really touched. 🫶🏼💋🫵🏻

Now into Gigi!

Shortly before the August tour she and Lisa Marie meet and as Lisa is in many ways more mature 🤣 they actually end up bonding very well, I imagined a case of Linda and Lisa with someone who’s even more playful -Gigi- and who genuinely would spend five hours playing Barbie’s because she wants to and has no fear on the golf carts.

On the August tour she’s a lifesaver for Elvis in so many ways, but things are also hard and she’s clingy and he’s on the pills to hell him keep going and it’s a side she hasn’t fully seen from him and rightfully considers to now be “the real him”

So she sticks it out but he also lashes out at he rom e about how clingy she is and it’s devastating to her. Positively devastating…all he really said was that she should be able to go to sleep on her own if he needed/wanted to keep socializing with the boys or whatever

When he goes to join her in the room that night he finds are shaking and crying and cold and practically going through a sub drop of sorts

Which gets cured with insistent assurance he’s a selfish old man who doesn’t even appreciate the miracle right under his nose and massive amounts of love and cuddles and him laying on top of her like a weighted blanket.

Swearing she’s always gonna be His Baby Girl

There’s no going back after that

Not that either Elvis or Gigi would want to

Something wonderful does happen on this tour and in many ways it’s due to Gigi yet again, Colonel Parker hasn’t being so well himself and now having to endure Elvis calling out his newest PR nightmare from the stage each night as his little Angel when she’s sitting there beaming, nineteen and big titted, is a worsening strain.

Sometime in later September the strain gets to be too much, apparently, when Colonel Parker is trying to enjoy the hotel’s amenities and soak in the hot tub with his cigar and a starry night sky but instead of being able to enjoy these he is assaulted with the caterwauling sounds of Gigi getting pleasurably railed on the balcony, one too many references to how big Elvis is and how much she loved how big he is and how big he is and…on and on and on

The Colonel was found at dawn bobbing up and down in the little bubbling caldron -a heart attack apparently

Big Sad

Such a big sad they have to cancel the rest of the tour and fly out to Hawaii to mourn and lift Elvis’ spirits

There Gigi feeds him pineapples and papaya juice and frolics in the surf in every smaller bikinis that are more calculated than Elvis assumes because her chief goal is actually to get him shirtless and frolic with her and he won’t unless it’s such a dire paparazzi emergency he must offer his own shirt to cover her bouncing assets

They make a baby on a plane ride, he just goes in during the turbulence and she’s so vigorous and delighted no pulling out occurs

So he marries her *duh*

Lisa is delighted by this and Lovey is born -cue, lots of Gigi never updating her wardrobe so everything is just flowy and unbuttoned and lots of nursing with a tit out much to the Memphis Mafia’s consternation about where to look without Elvis biting their heads off

Gigi loves engaging in a past time of seeing how far she can shoot her milk, it’s her favorite thing about motherhood, the little clothes are next and somwhere down the line is the actual baby

Don’t fret -Lovey has more than enough parental love coming from Elvis

With Parker gone and out of the way, wishes and whims honestly get to be met a lot easier and Gigi considers one of the most tragic things her Bug Daddy went though is the closing of Circle G ranch so you best believe she wheedles and begs for another and it’s a complete zoo by the end, not a ranche

They have another kid, soonish —a son named Baron. He’s the only one to inherit brain cells and will go on to be as devastatingly handsome and charming as his father and yet a full on Bayou living recluse when he’s not taking care of Graceland and his mother and kindly informing Miss Bealieu that if she wanted to use the name Presley, maybe she shoulda not divorced the original Presley she was related to?!👇🏼

but all that is after Elvis dies.

Because he does and yeah it’s genuinely sad and it happens sometime in the early 2000’s and his last words are to Baron and to “take care of my Gigi”

Gigi then proceeds to live and a very Yellow Wallpaper version of reality, never one for facing realities but gifted with a massive amount of emotional intelligence, she’s quite certain every breeze through the curtain and creak in the old house and song order on the radio is a message from Elvis to her. Yeah it’s a bit morbid but it’s also oddly convincing, “Daddy” doesn’t lose any presence just because he’s zipped out to the gas station longer than usual.

She’s preserved everything and that’s her chief hobby along with the zoo, even when Lovey is situated and taking over the magazines Elvis bought and produced. Gigi takes an interest for sure ->hell, she used to be their centerfold time and again so the least touch of her manicured hand on an editorial is still gold, no matter how time passes<- but first and foremost she’s still insistent she’s gotta be at Graceland, can’t leave Daddy alone there for long.

Which is a CRAZY and weird ass world for a certain Austin Butler to step into for research.

It’s impeccably preserved to the point of being past creepy, like it’s not creepy instead it’s just fully convincing, which probably should’ve been his first clue to run for his sanity sake, but when you love a thing you’ll quickly embrace a comforting illusion over a hurtful reality

And Austin loves Elvis, almost as much as Gigi does

Which becomes their joint reality

She’s eager to help him with the research, pours out the most insightful and tender perceptions of her Daddy, shows Austin his guitars and his books, his notes and his bibles, hours of hole footage -some of which Austin initially did not see the research value in due to their scandalous content but Gigi was insistent it was crucial material to get to know Elvis as his most unassuming, which she insisted was in bed

Probably shoulda been predictable -except for their age gap but life does imitate art- bonding over one all consuming love in their lives and watching X rated home movies and breathing life into each other’s lonely delusions really binds people together

Baron Presley is initially totally incensed and suspect this little twink Butler but eventually he softens, gets won over

Austin’s a good and kind influence on Gigi and between him and Baz they get her out more, Lisa’s good word regarding both helps this, too

Gigi gets convinced to go to Cannes with them all and Baron actually surfaces from his redneck palace in the bayous to confirm he’s not in fact dead for the first time in ten years,

He Takes Care of Business one last time at Cannes like his daddy would like, see Austin would dearly like to be Gigi’s and Gigi would like to be Austin’s -hell they already are- so Baron does them a little favor and draws out the little Nepo Arm Candy that Austin’s been toting about the these events and charms her real well and let’s just say, when Priscilla Bealieu saw Baron Presley come out of the coed bathroom in swaggering dishevelment with a little bowlegged twig behind him -she got some severe ptsd flashbacks to his father

After this it’s all happily ever after and Gigi is still showing up to Austin’s premiers and she’s proud as anything of him and he of her and together they’ve found whatever it is that binds souls together

Life imitates art

•also, for those who ask, if Gigi ever gets a lurid and beautiful biopic herself, looks like Emerald Fennel is the one for the job, uhem

Tagging my Gigi taglist as this is a headcanon list of sorts and y’all may enjoy seeing it 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@kxnnxy

@kingdomforapony

@be-my-ally

@crazymadpassionatelove

@that-hotdog

@missmaywemeetagain

@fallinlovewithurlove

@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@helen06dreamer

@returntopresley

@gonnagoandfangirl

@kelssssxd

@octobers-snow

@velvetelvis

@blursedblegh

@azzypog

[blog-of-hubris]

Jujutsu Kaisen 236: Heading South

This is probably the craziest chapter for the JJK community (rightfully so), and I have been on the fence about writing this up. It won't be super long, I hope… but there are a few things from the chapter I want to highlight.

So once you get past this cut, be prepared to see me bare all in my emotions and analysis for this amazing chapter Gege has given us!

P.S FORGIVE ME IF THIS META SUCKS! I AM OUT OF PRACTICE!!

The Afterlife

None of the jujutsu kaisen fandom is new to death. It is quite the opposite, actually. Characters that the fans love are put in life or death scenarios with no guarantee of them getting out. Even simple side characters that fans enjoy are subject to death, so pandering has never been Gege's thing. For me, the death of Gojo is emotionally hard because I love him, but his death isn't what moved me in this chapter… it was his experience in the afterlife.

The beginning of the chapter is us seeing Geto walking up to Gojo and Gojo reacting sourly. Of course this is him realizing he lost, but before I get into the words shared, I want to focus on the environment Gege gave us. We don't see adult Geto and Gojo, but the hidden inventory or teenage versions of them. I think everyone knows the reasoning behind this is because this is Gojo's “ideal time” of his life. His time as an adolescent with Geto by his side was when he was the happiest.

The fact Gojo form reverts to those days is so sad. To me, it reflects that Gojo never left the past. Everyone he encounters is from his time as a teenager, even showing us Ririka, her maid and even TOJI. (Toji appearing there was a fucking SHOCK to me… that's something else entirely to unpack for another time.) It is very sad seeing Gojo admit in many ways that he didn't feel truly happy after Geto's death. He became the strongest, and that even separated him from Geto, the person who would have given him satisfaction as a living being, not a jujutsu sorcerer. No matter how much he loved everyone, he knew that people could never understand him. But he felt that he could pour that feeling into Sukuna, since he is the only other being to be separated by others in that way.

On top of that, the dead group seem to be in an airport, symbolizing death and taking flight to a new land. This all makes sense when you think about the context of the chapter discussing heading north or south. The airport represents the flight into the next part of the soul's existence. I don't have too much to add on that specific theme, but I implore you to look up the symbolism for yourself.

A Curse Can Save People...

Is anyone else geeking with excitement over the fact that this chapter confirms the connection the living world has with the dead? Gojo literally asks Nanami how was his death, and we get Haibara explaining how he jumped in. This was the confirmation that what Gojo was seeing couldn't be a dream because how could he imagine receiving information that no one except Nanami would know.

This means a lot to me, because it deepens the level of meaning behind Nanami's death. In the moments of his death, he knew he was cursing Yuji, but that curse was exactly what Yuji needed to understand the gravity of his new life and choices he made. Specifically for Nanami, this was his final turning point. He chose to bet on the future instead of believing in the usual way of doing things. Haibara jumping in, was him reaching over from the other side, which implies (at least to me) that your loved ones are always watching even in death. I believe that is the “curse” that stays on jujutsu sorcerers, but also can be their saving grace in their last moments.

At the end of the day, the living cannot understand the dead, hence why Yaga said that all sorcerers die with regrets, but the truth is in those final moments only the dead can understand the curse placed upon them. It is the hindsight that creates an atmosphere of understanding, and only then will a person know if the choices they made truly made them happy. Even for Yaga specifically, him cursing Gakuganji was him reliving himself of burden and regret. “My Curse unto you” is literally a curse that saved Gakuganji from being a puppet of the higher ups. I love how Gege is perfectly tieing all the knots together!

Gojo was cursed by love (geto), and felt he was separated by everyone until his final moments, but those who knew him when he wasn't “the strongest” are those that are there to comfort him as he heads south. I love that Gojo was able to get this final moment with those that he loves, and I hope that this is where they are all experiencing their time. It makes me wonder if THIS is the place Kenjakub discussed (in between dreams and reality).

I will never forget you for as long as I live…

I won't explain the 4 dimensional slash that Sukuna used in this post, but if you would like me to do a more detailed explanation, just let me know in the comments!

What I want to talk about is Sukuna and how this fight impacted him. I think Gojo was wrong when he said his feelings didn't reach Sukuna. In fact, Sukuna saying he will never forget Gojo is him acknowledging that Gojo's feelings did reach him. The King of Curses has not acknowledged a single character in the way he acknowledged Gojo. Even with Jogo, he called him strong but the words “I will never forget you…” + a genuine smile is so powerful that it gave me chills. (Not to mention he is doing this in Megumi's body… it hurts me.)

I am proud of Gojo because he fought his hardest and got the acknowledgement he wanted, but I think this conclusion shows that Gojo was never as selfish as Sukuna. He was never as alone as Sukuna is, even with Uraume by his side, Sukuna still exuded a sense of loneliness that caused Yozoru to chase after him. Gojo still believes in the next generation, but he still represents the old generation. I personally don't think his death is necessary to symbolize the next generation stepping up, but when you think about it, many of the adult sorcerers we are introduced to (with relevance) have been killed off. This topic can divulge into what Gege is trying to do with progression of the Jujutsu world (giving gakuganji a change of heart and establishing him as a leader for the next generation, for example). I can see how Gojo's death is the literal nail in the coffin, ending the influence of the old generation… Leaving Shoko and Gakuganji to be there as support for the future.

I digress, the point I want to make here is that Gojo did the best he could do to show Sukuna "love" and I wonder what else Gege is going to do to continue that plot point. I also need to see how Megumi will tie into this, because I know his soul is going to play an important role in all of this, I just cannot pinpoint how exactly.

In Conclusion

I will most likely be doing a write-up for every chapter from here on out because I know this situation is going to get deeper. I will be watching Gege's movements closely and can't wait to see how it is all put together!!!

Will Megumi wake up? What is Kashimo's technique gonna be? How will Sukuna counter it? Will Yuta and Maki jump in? WILL MEGUMI WAKE UP??!?!?!?!

[anamericangirl]

what would be your answer to such a question/situation ?

https://defused.com/shuts-up-pro-life-people/

Ah, I remember seeing this fiasco when it first appeared on Twitter. Patrick Tomlinson thought he came up with some genius scenario that, according to him, "no pro-lifer had ever been able to answer" when in reality he was ignoring and blocking everyone who answered him in a reasonable way that showed he and his scenario were foolish and not the clever trap he imagined it to be.

He is approaching this very disingenuously from the start with the way he poses the question. He will only accept a person saying A (save the five year old from the fire) or B (save the 1000 viable human embryos) and that's it. He won't allow you to even rationalize to him why you selected one or the other because he's already decided why a person picked one or the other. He decided that if a person picked A that meant it was because they thought the child's life had more value than the life of the embryos and were not equal and if you picked B, well, you're just a monster. And that was it. And when you ask a question to other people where you decide beforehand what the only possible explanation for any answer is you're setting yourself up to look like an idiot. And when you pretend the reasons you imagine are the only rationalization for the choices and you do not allow people to say "well, actually, this is the reason I'm going with this option, which is different then the reason you imagined up" then you're not there genuinely looking for answers. You're just trying to "own" pro-lifers. Case in point, one person answered they would save the 1000 embryos using the rationalization that I've seen pro-aborts use when they justify murdering children which is "save as many lives as possible" and he just called them a monster.

So he created a scenario. He gave two options. He decided beforehand that there was only one certain explanation for each answer and there was only one right answer that he would accept. Which makes him a pretentious fool who cannot have an honest discussion about the scenario he invented.

But, anyway, this illustration he came up with is you're in a fertility clinic where a fire breaks out and you only have the chance to save a crying five year old or a container with 1000 viable human embryos and it is just a rehashing of the trolley problem.

Do you pull the lever on a runaway trolley to divert it to a track where it will kill one person or let it keep barreling down the path its on where it will kill five people?

It's a thought experiment that poses a moral dilemma to explore human ethics and moral responsibility. These questions are not designed to have perfect solutions where everyone gets a happy ending and they are not questions that determine who are people and who are not and which human lives are more valuable based on a decision you make in a high stakes situation where no matter what you do someone is going to die.

In the trolley problem, no one makes their decision because they think the individual human lives at stake don't have equal worth or value and no one assumes that's the rationalization behind the choice you're forced to make. So the fact that Tomlinson is presenting the revised trolley problem as a scenario where whichever choice you make means the other lives have less value and are not equal to the life you chose to save means he doesn't understand the question he is asking.

But, anyway, now that I've gone over the very serious flaw in the question asker and the way he is approaching this issue, the answer I give is the answer most people would give. I would save the crying five year old. But the reason I choose this option is not because I don't see the embryos as having equal moral value as Tomlinson thinks is the only possible reason. The reason I go with this option is because if I am in a situation where I am about to die and only have time to grab one or the other before we are all gone, it's ridiculous to assert this is a time where I would be at an intellectual peak able to weigh the moral and ethical questions raised by any choice I would make when I just have to get out as quick as I can and only have the time to hastily go with one or the other. It's also fallacious to assume that the choice I make under such extreme pressure reflects how I feel about the moral value and worth of the life I do not save. Even if I hypothetically chose the five year old because I thought their life had more value than the lives of the embryos that does not actually determine what the reality is. My choice in a high stakes situation does not determine what lives are valuable and which ones aren't. Like of course in a situation like that I would instinctually try to save the child I can hear screaming for help. But that doesn't mean that I think the embryos are less valuable because my gut instincts do not determine human worth.

But I just don't like the dishonesty Tomlinson brings with this question. He can't give you a situation where two (or more) people are going to die, give you the option to only save one and tell you that your decision means whoever you don't save you see as lesser and think their lives don't matter on the same level as whoever you choose to save. Because I can ask him that question right back and just change who his choices are to save. I can say you're in a burning building and your mom is one room and your dad is in the other. You can only save one before exiting the building. There is no third option or way to save them both. And whoever you choose to leave behind in this scenario, you are leaving behind because you know the lives of your mother and father are "not the same, not morally, not ethically, not biologically." If you rescue your mom that means you don't believe your father's life is morally equivalent to the life of your mother and vice versa. So, who do you save? Whose life has the most moral value? Your mom or your dad?

Sorry for the long rant but the arrogance he has over his deeply flawed and disingenuous "question" annoys me to no end.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine getting Azula a present for her birthday

The first thing you noticed when your family returned to the fire nation was how serious everyone was. You’d been born in a fire nation colony so had little experience with the capital of your nation. Your parents were high born but even they’d relaxed in the colonies and allowed you to have a mostly normal life. However once Ozai declared your parent’s mission over and summoned them back to the capital that all ended. Rules patroling you seemed to spring from everywhere. Don’t wear your hair fully down, don’t meet the eye of anyone who ranks higher than you, bow from the floor to all members of the royal family...the list was endless! Due to your parent’s being very well respected you were introduced to Azula and she took you into her group. Part of you wondered if she only did it to please her father or because you were considered an oddity here in the capital but as time went on you didn’t think either was the case. Everyone here was very strict or distant and even Azula’s closest friends didn’t know her very well. Mai seemed to tolerate her mainly because of her titles and brother. Ty lee, while seemingly fond of Azula, obviously didn’t try getting closer to her than necessary. That wasn’t how friendships worked in your town and you were determined not to pick up this capital custom. So you put time and effort into all three of the girls and made progress with each. You’d go shopping with Ty lee, discuss popular and obscure theology with Mai and help Azula think through her battle strategies. Azula was the one who reacted the strongest to your attention and friendship. She began spending more time with you alone, seeking you out regularly and inviting you to events where even Mai and Ty lee weren’t permitted to go. You found yourself drawn to Azula because she seemed like the one who could most do with a friend. Mai had Zuko, Ty lee seemed content flitting from numerous different people but Azula didn’t really have anyone.

So you continued nurturing your friendship and when Azula’s birthday came around you set out to get her the most meaningful present you could to let her know she was cared for. You were very excited with your choice of present and rushed into the palace, the box you’d spent hours wrapping and unwapping until it was perfect, held tightly in your hands. “Good morning” you smiled finding Mai, Ty lee and Zuko in the royal wing. “Good morning” Ty lee beamed back but Zuko and Mai just nodded not being morning people. Mai noticed your present first. “What’s that?” she asked and you smiled “Azula’s present!”. They all looked at you confused and Zuko spoke first “why are you buying my sister a present?”. “Because it’s her birthday” you explained but that didn’t seem to help, they all still stared at you blankly. “It’s her birthday so I got her a birthday present...is that not something you do in the capital?”. “No but it sounds very sweet” Ty lee grinned. Mai shrugged “I would like presents every year just for being born but I can’t say I understand the logic”. Zuko nodded but you shrugged “ow well, hopefully Azula will enjoy it anyway”. “You’re still going to give it to her”? Zuko asked shocked and you paused “well why wouldn’t I?”. “She might think it’s weird considering you only give people presents when you’re...”. Mai hit Zuko’s arm before he could finish and shook her head. You stared confused “if you’re what?”. “It doesn’t matter” Mai said quickly “Zuko was thinking of something else, I think Azula’s in her study if you want to see her”. You frowned but Mai and Ty lee smiled at you encouragingly so you shook Zuko’s words from your mind and went to find the birthday girl. 

You knocked on Azula’s door and heard her call come in. “Happy birthday Azula!” you cried as soon as your eyes fell on her. Azula jumped vividly, the  brush she was writing with dragging messily across the page ruining her letter. “I am so sorry” you gaped “can it be saved”. “No it cannot” Azula sighed angrily “please in the future don’t scream just because it’s my birthday”. You nodded “is wishing someone a happy birthday not a thing here either?” you asked “just when I think I’m getting a handle on the capital I mess everything up”. “Birthdays are not a big deal here” Azula nodded “only important ones are given any recognition but I have heard of some places where every single birthday is celebrated. I take it your home town is one such place?”. You nodded smiling at the memory “Yes! Every year you usually have a party or do something special with the people you love most! You eat your favourite foods and someone usually makes a cake, it’s lovely”. Azula nodded her head but looked unconvinced and then her eyes fell on the box in your hand. “And what is this?”Azula asked. “A present” you smile brightly but Azula blushed and looked away for some reason. “For my birthday right?” she asked “this is one of your odd traditions nothing more?”. “Yes” you agreed unsure what else a present could mean “you also give the person whose birthday it is a present, something you think they’ll like and wrap it up nicely for them...can I give it to you?”. Azula was still red but nodded so you placed it down on the desk before stepping away. 

Azula picked it up hesitantly and undid the bow before removing the lid carefully. You watched her face excitedly for any reaction but all Azula did was stare inside. You were dying for a sign however small to know if she loved or hated it but Azula continued to stare until you thought you would burst of anticipation. When you couldn’t contain yourself any longer you sighed “so do you like it? It’s the trinket we saw in that glass store in town”. Azula nodded her head “yes I recognise it...how did you decide on this for me?”. “Well I thought I saw you admiring it when we were there because you kept staring at it but now I’m not sure if you staring at something means you love or hate it”.

Azula remembered the day a few weeks ago when you went into town together and she recalled how you’d mysteriously disappeared before reappearing minutes later. She picked up the small figurine carefully. It was a rose that fit in the palm of her hand made of different orange, red and yellow coloured glass all intricately folded together. When the light hit it looked as if it was on fire and Azula remembered thinking it looked very beautiful and she had the same thought now. 

“So...is it okay?” you asked nervously “If you don’t like it then I can always return it and get you something else?”. “No!” Azula said sharply before she composed herself and rid her face of the emotion she felt underneath. “It is a nice present, I like the colours...” she said awkwardly aware she was blushing “I will keep it, thank you”. The look on your face made Azula’s heart beat faster. You were so happy that she liked the tiny piece of glass and Azula figured if such a small thing could cause you so much happiness maybe it wasn’t such a stupid tradition after all. “I’m so glad you like it” you grinned “I was going to suggest we have a meal or something to celebrate but as that’s probably not a thing here either I’ll leave you to your work. Have a lovely birthday day Princess” you smiled and with a bow to her you disappeared.

Later

All day your gift didn’t leave Azula’s mind. Usually when you gave someone a present it meant you were interested in courting that person. For a second when you entered Azula thought that was what you intended, she thought this was your declaration before she realised what your intention’s really were. As she stared at the small rose she recalled the slight relief she felt realising you didn’t mean to court her but she also felt another feeling, larger and deeper inside herself which she refused to acknowledge. 

Azula placed the rose back in the box and got back to work. A while later a servant let her know that her father was ready for her and she prepared to meet with him. She hesitated to leave the present you gave her and frowned. She saw the servant glance at it and blushed furiously. “Tell my father I will be there soon” she commanded and he scurried away. Azula sighed and lifted the lid off the box once again. The rose was still shining beautifully and Azula hesitated before picking it up and slipping it into her pocket. 

The meeting did not go well. Ozai didn’t mention Azula’s birthday which wasn’t odd but the fact he didn’t even seem aware it was today stung a little considering a girl she knew for only 8 months did. The meeting went from bad to worse as Ozai started snapping at everyone in the room and through it all Azula gently held your rose. It was cold in her palm and she liked the coolness. She carried on with her meeting, holding the rose whenever she needed something positive to focus on, and got through the meeting. 

When Azula was finally dismissed she was relieved and felt the toll it had taken on her. She started back to her study aware she still had work to do but honestly her eyes were tired and her brain hurt. She didn’t want to do any more work and your offer suddenly came into her head. You’d mention something about food...a tradition you’d thought to try before figuring Azula wouldn't want to. Azula thought it over before she found a messenger and dispatched them to go find you.

You arrived at Azula’s apartments in the palace confused. Her note hadn’t said much just that she wanted to see you and to come quickly. So you dutifully dropped your very busy schedule (which concerned lounging and reading in the gardens) and made your way to her door. Two guards let you in and you called out for Azula. “Ah y/n” a voice replied and you turned to see Azula descending the stairs. “Azula” you smiled before remembering the note “is everything okay? Your note just said to come here”. “Everything is fine” Azula assured you “I just...thought we could entertain that custom of yours”. “The meal?” you asked excitedly. Azula nodded looking away to disguise her blush “exactly, what must we do?”. You laughed “we don’t have to attack it like a battle! I have everything planned, I’d already gotten the picnic ready and I still have the spot in the gardens although I do need to decorate it and call the others...if you give me an hour I will have everything ready!”. Azula nodded “that is fine” and with a smile you rushed for the door. Before you could disappear Azula called out to you “ow and y/n there’s no need to disturb the others i’m sure they’re too busy on such short notice”. You paused “are you sure? You’re their friend so i’m sure they’d happily drop whatever they were doing to celebrate your birthday, I mean it only happens once a year”. Azula smiled at the sentiment but shook her head “somehow I doubt they’ll think that way but it doesn’t matter, I will be happy with just the two of us”. Now it was your turn to blush. You nodded and bowed slightly “of course princess” and left the room. 

An hour later Azula made her way to the gardens, following the instructions you’d sent her. She usually avoided the gardens for obvious reasons but she was hoping you’d give her a good memory in the place her mother cherished. You’d said to follow the yellow flowers and so Azula did that until she saw a raised area. There was a small platform with food all arranged along a small table. A small cake perched in the centre with the words “Happy Birthday Azula” frosted on the top. Lanterns hung around the platform and lines of colourful fabric hung from the ceiling of the structure. Cushions were placed on the floor in a seating area and the whole area looked very inviting even if it wasn’t very fire nation. Azula took in the scene for a few seconds before she realised you were there. You were muttering about something as you re-arranged some of the decorations your back to her. “Y/n” she called and you jumped “Azula! I promise I’m almost done I was just trying to work out where to place the balloons”. Azula smiled “there’s balloons too?” looking at the sea of decorations all over the small structure. You paused “why is it too much?”. Azula stepped through the doorway and saw due to the streams of decorations you were practically hidden away from the rest of the garden. Azula liked that idea and surveyed the rest of the platform. The lanterns made the light that passed through them change colour and they chimed nicely in the breeze. The food looked and smelled delicious and the cushions looked very comfortable. “No this is just perfect” Azula smiled. You beamed at her happily and squeezed her arm “I’m so happy you like it! You deserve a special day”. Azula blushed and wasn’t sure how to respond to something like that, especially while you were staring at her just inches away. So Azula just avoided the topic. 

“Shall we begin?” she asked and you nodded. You placed a selection of all the foods (which were all Azula’s favourites of course) on a plate and passed it her before doing the same for yourself. You joined her on the cushions and smiled “so! How was your birthday? What made you decide to indulge me?”. Azula looked down at her food “it was fine...I had a really long war meeting and honestly the thought of doing more work after it was not appealing, so I contacted you. I know it’s not ideal, a whole evening wasted on being frivolous but there’s nothing to do about it now. I’ll just work extra hard tomorrow”. You frowned before looking up at her “it’s your birthday so I think you’re allowed to have a more chilled day just enjoying yourself. Plus you already work so hard anyway, if anyone deserves a rest it’s you”. “Yes but I work hard for a reason, you don’t become the best by being lazy”. You nodded “yes but you’re already the best!” you grinned “so sit back and relax for one evening. The world will still be waiting for you to conquer it tomorrow”. You nudged her shoulder and despite your words going against everything she’d been taught Azula found herself smiling “okay”. 

The two of you chatted while you ate and when you finished you began cutting Azula a piece of cake. She watched the concentration clearly etched on your face fondly. You passed Azula the piece and she took a bite cautiously but she had no reason to. It was wonderful. “This is rather nice y/n what type of cake is it?”. You smiled “it’s based off a red velvet cake because you know fire nation but I also added some spice because I know you like it”. “You made this?” Azula cried and you nodded “yes but it was no bother...i’m just glad you like it”. “I do” Azula agreed “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this silly custom of yours. It is nice to be spoiled”. You nodded grinning “it is! My birthday is in January just so you know”. Azula froze at the thought of having to plan something like this for you when you laughed “don’t worry I was joking, you don’t have to do anything for me”. “Well I doubt I’d be able to match this” Azula said gesturing around her “but I will remember, you have my word”. You smiled blushing but didn’t break your eyes away from her “thank you Azula, I’m really glad I met you”. Azula went red matching you and nodded her head “I am too...although I should be going soon. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning”. You nodded standing “of course, would you like me to walk you back to your room?”. Azula shook her head “that is fine thank you y/n...do you need any help with all the decorations?” she asked hesitantly. You shook your head “no it’s fine, the decorations will take 5 minutes to pack away and i’ll take the spare food to the kitchen...the only thing is the cake, would you like to take it or would you like me to?”. Azula eyed the cake remembering the delicious taste and nodded “I will take it with me”. You packaged it up for her and smiled “well I hope you’ve had a nice birthday”. “I have thank you” Azula nodded “now I must be going”. You nodded and waved as Azula left the gardens. 

Azula walked through the palace to her room your cake in her hands and she felt proud. Her friend had made this to celebrate her birthday. She hadn’t asked you to, you did it because you wanted to do it for her, because you cared for her. Azula stepped inside her room and looked about her. She couldn’t help but realise after all the colourful decorations you’d used just how dull her room was. Despite all of the finery none of the room was really hers. None of the pieces had been bought just for her, they were all things passed down for generations. Azula placed your cake on a table and took your present out of her pocket, running her hand over it softly. Nobody had ever bought her something just because they wanted her to be happy. Azula wondered where to place your present. She didn’t want it out in the open where anyone could see or break it. She couldn’t find anywhere suitable so she changed and got into bed still undecided. She toyed with the figurine remembering the way you’d smiled when she said she liked it. Now safely in her own room alone she recognised she’d been slightly disappointed this was a token of friendship and nothing else. She enjoyed having your attention and liked you most out of all her friends but in a very different way. Still, even if this wasn’t a romantic gesture it was still a gesture of love and such an open un-fire nation one. 

Azula smiled to herself before placing the rose under her pillow where she could hide it but also keep it close to her while she slept. “What a strange day” she muttered to herself but she knew it hadn’t actually been strange, it had been the best birthday she could remember having and it was all because of you.   

___

I’m constantly sad Azula never had anyone really love and care for her like Zuko did, she deserved better. But even if someone had shown her affection, based on her sad upbringing, I feel like Azula wouldn’t know how to respond to it because she’s never been shown what love is so I want to shower her in it!!  Hence this story :)

[three-leafed-clover]

day twelve - epistle @nosebleedclub

when i was a sophomore in high school, i took ap united states history, which all of my classmates, including myself, affectionately referred to as apush. we made a group chat, and up until that point in my life, it was the most stressed i had ever been about homework. there was so much of it that i cried of stress, several times. i pulled my first all nighter for it. it was all worth it though, because of the content we were learning.

you see, for the first time, i was being taught american history in a way that didn’t worship america, in a way that didn’t lean away from the horrors of its past, and how those horrors affect our present. we talked about the slaughter of native americans by christopher columbus, and by colonials who arrived via the mayflower, and by people moving west in the name of a god who i believe(d) in. on the second day of class, we had the first of many discussions about the native americans and their sufferings. i walked out of that class with my hands shaking. there would be many classes where i walked out with my hands shaking.

that teacher threw atrocities at us in a way i, at the time, was utterly unprepared to handle. i had been taught, all my life, that all people were equal, and deserved to be treated well. i, of course, by sophomore year, knew of racism and sexism and ableism, knew about economic disparity. i didn’t truly understand until then, what those words implied.

that rule about equality. that was, and is, the rule that shaped the world for me. i cannot imagine who i would be without it. and there i was, learning about dred scott, about korematsu, about jim crow laws, and violations of the rights which i had been told were for everyone. people have been told that they have rights, and then upon trying to exercise them, learned that actually, no, those rights weren’t for them. due process, and equal protection, and the goddamn united states constitution was not, and is not for them. some of these people shared some of my traits, and i shook with an odd but natural combination of rage and grief that the constitution wasn’t for me, either. no, it was for the rich, the white, the male, the straight, the cisgender, the able bodied. it was for me in some ways, but not in others, and i shook too with the fact that this wasn’t just my suffering, but the suffering of others in far worse ways than i could ever comprehend.

since finishing that class, i have continued to learn and grow and try to fight for change. but hearing the results of the election brought me back, back, back, to those locker-lined hallways and hands that i couldn’t hold steady.

even as i am writing this, my hands are not steady.

that bastard, that motherfucker, who is now in charge of this country, who wants to violate the premise that i was told was mine and everyone else's. he wants to keep power in the hands of the people who the framers wanted it for, and he wants us to believe that they had good intentions. he wants us to believe in justice and democracy, in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

we were promised equal opportunity, we were told that despite a lack of resources democracy would come through for us, democracy would find us justice. we were promised speech. we were promised life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; which is to say that we were promised more than this.

that man does not deserve the power he has been trusted with. we deserve someone who will deliver on what we were promised.