#kinda think this will be more along the lines with helping arthur accept.... the end of rdr2

[littlelostmabari]

This came to me last night in the hypnagogic state where all my fic ideas (good and bad) come from. No idea if this is anything but it begged to be written. Might make it into a series if the brain gremlins are obliging. Divider from strangergraphics-archive. Complete Fic List

And Death Follows

Arthur Morgan x grimreaper!reader.

Supernatural elements, death & dying, reader has female pronouns. 700 words.

Arthur should have died in New Austin a year ago, deep in the Grizzlies. Not even a noteworthy death: an ambush by some unknown bandits that would fall off the map three winters later. He was only passing through, on his way to meet Dutch and the new enforcer at Crenshaw Hills. He wasn't supposed to make it. You were there to claim his soul. You weren't supposed to leave until you had it.

It wasn't often that you were sent to claim a soul before it had died, to watch a man on the last day of his life, to watch him take his last breath. Most days you wandered, somewhere between the physical and the ethereal, finding the souls along your routes and releasing them so that they would not fester and become nightmares, hauntings, bad luck. But every so often a death was orchestrated years in advance, threads woven in some grand design that you were never privy to. You were called somewhere by whispers on the winds, meant to shepherd the one poor soul the Fates had doomed, and then return to your years of wanderings. That was the protocol, and you'd never needed to second guess it before, because... Well, them that were fated to die simply did. But he didn't. He... lived. Everyone around him, everyone who was supposed to play a part in his demise found theirs at the end of his revolver. Someone would need to collect their souls, and shepherd them to the afterlife, especially because they weren't assigned to die today. No one was coming to get them, they would languish here until another wanderer like you released them. So... as odd as it is, you do your job. You tiptoe through the scene, invisible to all but the dead, and send these men to the afterlife so that this spot will not bear the ruination of angered spirits. You watch as Arthur climbs up onto the Hungarian Half-bred and clicks his tongue and goes to meet the men he was never supposed to see again, a strong golden thread tethering him to this world. You still need Arthur's soul though. Supposedly, if the whispers are right. So you follow him deeper into the Grizzlies.

The bugger won't fuckin' die.

Robbery after holdup after break-in you follow him, invisibly picking up the lost echoes he leaves behind, still needing the one that she had been assigned. You wonder if the men, the souls, the wisps that tell you their dying words and disappear into the ether would have lived if Arthur had died. Through Armadillo and Tumbleweed, through the start of something clever in Blackwater with Hosea. The longer you stay, the more you start to root for him. The more times you follow him through other people's broken lives, you start to hope that he lives. Start to help him.

And the longer you're there, the more he starts to feel your presence. Extra ammo he's sure he didn't pack, but desperately needed as they flee into Tall Trees. The whisper of a breeze that causes him to look up and see the lurking O'Driscoll. The knowledge, somehow, that John's injuries at Colter aren't fatal because it's not his time yet, but he doesn't know how he knows. It's in the aftermath of a bloodied battlefield at Ewing Basin, when Dutch has left him to pick through whatever remains, that he sees you for the first time.

He scans for threats every few seconds, and has to blink weariness out of his eyes because why would a woman in a black tattered dress with hair pinned up and mussed be wandering the abandoned mining camp, the rotting buildings, the open catacombs of the men they had ambushed? And what is the woman doing with her fingers on the forehead of a body made unidentifiable by shrapnel and lead? And what is the wisp of light that dances between her fingertips? "Come on, Arthur! Dutch ain't gonna wait all day!' He snaps his head over his shoulder at Lenny's call and by the time he looks back, she is gone. "Yeah, keep yer shirt on boah, I'm comin'."

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hey, hey! I've been following you for a while and have just worked up the nerves to send in a request. So, how would Dutch, Arthur, and John react to a... reader? An s/o?? Who is the typical outlaw, but the radiation of crack-head energy increases when their running on little to no sleep.

I hope this makes sense, and I hope you have a great day/night 😊

heyyy, i'm so glad you requested this!! it was so fun, seriously you don't need to be nervous, i like to think i'm friendly and writing requests are what i love to do! they make me so happy <333

i hope i understood this, i kinda went with like wild and reckless outlaw running on no sleep so i hope its not terrible! I wrote all of it in under an hour since i've sick so i'll edit it later but for now enjoy :))

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

Dutch

Its a lazy afternoon in Rhodes where you and Dutch had spent the better half of the day sweet-talking Sheriff Gray until he well and truly passed out over his desk from too much moonshine.

It wasn’t often that you got to spend a quiet moment with the gang’s leader and so the two of were enjoying the short ride back to camp together, laughing about the perfect opportunity to rob two families of all they had right under their noses.

Of course, all good things must come to an end as you were quickly ambushed by a large group of raiders.

Maybe it was your apparent lack of sleep or maybe you just had more of a crazier side than you thought but while Dutch began to negotiate with the leader of the group, you didn’t hesitate to whip your revolver from its holster and fire, bringing two down instantly.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

By now, Dutch had no choice to start shooting along with you as the shock of your sudden outburst wore off. From his view he saw you laughing like a maniac as another three raiders fell from their horses.

After working together, you both finally brought down the raiders until only one remained. He was smaller than the others and was attempting to run off into the tree line.

You stood your ground, lining up your revolver to extend from your shoulder and took aim. That was until a hand on your arm brought it back down and you looked over to see Dutch staring at you amused.

“Come now my dear, I think you’ve had your fun. We wouldn’t want to get too carried away so close to camp, would we?”

That afternoon, as the sun was setting over the red dirt, you and Dutch walked back to camp. Your arm was linked with his, resting your body on his side as the exhausting day finally caught up to you.

When you finally returned to camp with your horses trailing behind you, Dutch kissed the back of your hand before wishing you a goodnight.

Arthur

Homestead robberies were one of your favourite things to do with Arthur. You always seemed more excited then him, being more than eager to break down the front door and get to the gold but you knew that deep down grumpy old Arthur enjoyed it too.

You’d already secured your horses well away from the homestead, prepared your weapons and hopped over the fence. Technically Arthur had the lead on this one but you’d never been great at devising a plan.

Both of you have your backs plastered to the wall of the house. You were loading your rifle while Arthur was peering through the window to count the men sitting around the makeshift poker table.

“Now, I’m thinking we go around the back, take em’ by surprise. You take the back window while I — oh where the hell are ya going now?”

Arthur pulled away from the window to see an empty spot besides him. Before he could finish his sentence you’d busted through the front door and fired upon the three men sitting at the poker table.

Arthur had only just managed to come in after you fast enough, firing over your shoulder to the other two armed men.

“How’s that for taking em by surprise huh?”

Your grin is filled with over confidence at your spontaneous approach to the robbery and it only grows as you see Arthur roll his eyes at you.

“Well ya damn took me by surprise. At least warn me next time before you throw yourself in front of danger.”

Whatever comeback you had is cut off by a yawn as your body slowly catches up to the fact you’ve been running on almost no sleep the past three days.

“Common lets just find the stash and go set up camp somewhere to lie low— besides I could use a nap.”

With the tent pitched and your bellies filled with a warmed can of corned beef, you finally allowed yourself to drift off to sleep with your head on Arthur’s chest. If there was one good thing to come out of your crazy and reckless behaviour during robberies, it was that you always got to cuddle up to Arthur afterwards.

John

“Hey John! I gotta tip about some doctors office just up in valentine. Some drunk fella said they were holding a side business for O’Driscoll’s boys. What do ya say?”

Being a close companion to John meant you could always go to him for robberies and potential leads. Together, the two of you weren’t a bad team and always enjoyed getting to spend the extra time with each other so you couldn’t help but jump for joy when he accepted your offer.

The two of you made small talk and shared inside jokes until you hitched your horse at the entrance to the Doctor’s office. John followed behind you but stopped to see you fiddle with your bandana and load your revolver inconspicuously.

John stared at you in shock, knowing you well enough to know exactly what you were thinking. He eyed the Sheriff standing, not three feet in front of you and quickly went to grab your shirt before you could open the door.

“Now wait a damn minute! You can’t just waltz into the front of the store and rob it— how do you even know its a real lead?”

John’s words are as hushed as they can be for someone who’s internally panicking at your apparent lack of planning. His panicking was only worsened when he saw you shrug like it was nothing.

“Live a little Johnny!”

To say that it was a mess was an understatement. The sheriff and the deputies, heard the gunfire immediately and the two of you only managed to barely escape with your lives.

John was half way out the door, whistling for your horses when he saw you run back to grab the pile of cash between two dead O’Driscolls before narrowly escaping the gunfire of the Sheriff’s department.

It wasn’t until hours later when the two of you were hiding in some shack in the middle of nowhere did John finally decide to even bring up just how reckless and wild you’d been.

“Jesus, you’re insane sometimes ya’know that right?”

“Yeah, but you love me!”

[rubysunnday]

This is really random but Shelby sis organising a scavenger hunt type thing to find her because the family had been arguing a lot recently so they all had to work together to collect clues to find her -the clues could be like important memories with each member So as well as getting along they find out about each other more

A/N: I sort of took this idea and ran with it. It’s kinda along the same lines but also slightly different so I hope that’s alright! 

Also, my hatred of small children appears to be fairly obvious in this one...

You were close to loosing your will to live.

No, scratch that, you had lost your will to live.

There was a lot going on with the family business at the moment. A lot of arguing, a lot of fighting and more drinking than usual - which was saying something - had led to the entire family being even more volatile than usual.

Because everyone had been too caught up with the business, they’d all forgotten it was easter.

And had all forgotten to make an Easter egg hunt for the children.

“Why the fuck have I got to do it?” You asked, frowning as you stood in the doorway of Tommy’s office.

“Because you’re the only one not involved with this,” Tommy replied, gesturing to the very full room of his office.

The ‘family’ meeting had been going on for several hours now and there’d been a lot of yelling coming from the office. You’d been evicted thirty minutes in when Tommy had realised that he didn’t really want you hearing what was going on.

“Only because you don’t want me involved,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Tommy said, raising a hand,“just, please, do this one thing without complaint because I’m about to fucking loose it.”

You tutted but gave in. “Fine,” you replied, turning around and shutting the door again, leaving your family to continue their meeting.

That was how you ended up organising an Easter egg hunt for the numerous children you’d somehow become godmother to over the years.

Said Easter egg hunt was also the reason why you currently wanted to die.

You’d sat yourself in the lobby of the house, near enough to the office that you could occasionally hear what was going on and near enough to the front door that the children could find you.

And so that you could run away.

“Y/N!” Charlie whined and you closed your eyes, sighing.

“Yup?” You asked, turning to look at your nephew.

“Katie took my Easter egg,” Charlie whimpered, pointing at his cousin.

“Katie, give it back,” you said tiredly.

“Why?”

“Because there are enough Easter eggs for everyone to have at least five so give it back,” you replied.

“Fine,” Katie grumbled, taking the egg out of her basket and all but throwing it into Charlie’s.

The two ran off again and you relished the blessed peace that came with it.

“Y/N!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you muttered as Karl came up to you. “Hi,” you said, leaning down to look at your nephew. You’d always had a soft spot for Karl. Well, you had a soft spot for Ada and therefor her son too.

“I can’t find anymore,” he said quietly and you glanced down into his basket, seeing only two eggs.

‘Those fucking animals’ you thought.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, lifting Karl onto your lap. “I’ve got a secret stash you can have some from.”

“Really?” Karl asked, looking up at you hopefully.

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Now, go see if you can find any in the library, I’m pretty sure there's some in there.”

Karl jumped off your lap and ran down the corridor.

Peace reigned once again.

Until yelling started up again from Tommy’s office.

“Right, I’ve had fucking enough,” you muttered, standing up and marching over to Tommy’s office.

You swung open the door, silencing the yelling match currently occurring between John and Tommy.

“You lot, shut the fuck up!” You exclaimed.

“Y/N,” Tommy began, a warning tone in his voice.

“No,” you said shaking your head, “I've had enough of this. I’ve spent all fucking day with your children and, quite frankly, it has put me off ever having children. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You lot are going to help your children with their Easter egg hunt whilst I go hide somewhere. I have also conveniently left clues to where I shall by hiding along with the eggs.

“Once you have figured out where I am hiding, you to find all of the shit you’ve taken from me over the years and bring it to me in my secret hiding place. When you bring it to me you are to not be twats or arseholes and are to act like my older siblings and, maybe, give me a hug. We clear? Good.”

You didn’t give them a chance to answer properly before you left the room, slamming the door behind you.

You looked up from the magazine you were reading as the wooden ladder up to the tree house creaked and groaned.

“Why the fuck are you up here?” Tommy asked, poking his head through the hatch.

“The children can’t follow me,” you replied, breaking off another bit of chocolate. “And it’s where my chocolate stash is.”

Tommy climbed in and sat down next to you.

You glanced down at what he was holding. “Is that the book you borrowed four years ago when you bored during Ada’s birthday and never gave back?”

Tommy chuckled, handing it to you. “Yes, thank you,” he replied. “Did you put those clues there just for us to give your shit back?”

“Oh, no, it was meant for the kids to come and get the final prize,” you explained, “except the final prizes no longer exists because I’ve eaten it.”

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head as you ate another bit of chocolate.

The tree house groaned again and Ada popped her head through the hatch.

“I hate you,” she said, climbing in, accepting Tommy’s hand of support.

“Ahuh,” you said, scooting over so that she could sit next to you. “My bracelet which you borrowed for a date with Freddie but never gave back?”

Ada handed you the bracelet as she sat down, taking a bit of chocolate at the same time. “Is this the treehouse?”

You nodded. “Yup. Tommy over there has sentimental issues apparently and moved it here for Charlie, except he never fucking uses it.”

Tommy rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“You get fed up of the arguing too?” Ada asked, accepting the chunk of chocolate you offered.

“Did I ever? I almost kicked a small child as well,” you muttered.

“Who’s?”

“John’s.” Ada nodded. “Feral children.”

“Thank you!” You exclaimed.

“I take great offence at that,” John said, wiggling his way through the wooden hatch. “Why the fuck we up here for our family reunion?”

“Because the children cannot climb,” you replied, scooting further around so that John could fit in. “And therefore I am safe from their terror.”

“They’re not that bad,” John said, sitting down on your right.

“Yes they fucking are,” you told him, “I think Karl learned about five new swear words today because of your fucking children harassing me.” You turned to face Ada. “Sorry, in advance.”

“Apology accepted,” your sister replied.

“Alright, where’s me mirror?” You asked John, holding your hand out.

John rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a very battered but well loved silver mirror. “Forgot I had that.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you muttered, adding it to your collection. “You nicked it to give to Lizzie.”

“Don’t remind me,” John grumbled.

“Who the fuck decided to come up here?” Arthur grumbled as he climbed inside the cramped tree house.

“I’m hiding from your children,” you replied. “They’re evil and I never want one.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, throwing a hair clip at you. “Found it in an old drawer,” he said, sitting down next to Tommy.

“Yeah, you nicked it last year because I was being annoying and never gave it back,” you told him.

“Didn’t we build this?” Arthur asked, knocking on the slightly shabby wood wall behind him.

“Yeah, you and Tom,” you said. “When Finn and I were...eight, I think? I did wonder how it was still standing.”

“I am slightly concerned it’s about to collapse underneath us,” Ada muttered to you ad Tommy and Arthur complimented their work.

“No, so am I,” you muttered back as the tree house creaked and groaned.

“Y/N, those children are fucking feral and should be locked away,” Finn groaned, grunting as he squeezed himself into the house.

“I quite agree, Finn,” you replied, dragging him to sit in front of you so you could hug him. “Terrifying things.”

Finn put the ring he’d found on your finger. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, “even if I didn’t end up proposing.”

“Didn't think you would, to be honest,” you replied, resting your head against his back.

For a moment, the tree house was silent.

“You lot done fighting for the next ten minutes?” You asked quietly, suddenly acting like the youngest sibling instead of the oldest.

You didn’t admit it often but being left in charge of numerous children was terrifying. You didn't think yourself fit to be a mother - well, you knew you weren’t because you couldn't stand children - and it terrified you whenever your siblings left you alone with theirs.

The constant arguing for the past week had put you even more on edge. You weren’t sure that you could cope with your family falling apart in front of you. They were your main column of support and you knew you wouldn’t be able to function without them.

Before the war you rarely argued. There was the odd sibling fight but that was to be expected when six siblings lived in one tiny house. But, the tiny house had brought you all closer and the bond you had with your siblings was a unique one.

John shuffled closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Yeah,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. “Did we scare you?”

You nodded once. “Only because I was going to end up looking after your kids,” you covered quickly.

Arthur snorted. “Y/N, sweetheart, you’d end up murdering them all in the first day.”

You shrugged. “What can I say, I don’t do children.”

Ada laughed, entwining her hand with your hand and resting her head on top of yours.

For a single moment, you all felt like the kids who’d lived in Small Heath in a tiny house, sharing bedrooms because there wasn’t enough room.

“You know,” you said suddenly, “I really don’t think this tree house was built for six grown adults to sit in.”

“Yeah, I don't feel entirely safe,” Finn added.

“Are you insulting our craftsmanship?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“Yes,” you said as Finn nodded. “Now, leave me alone and go deal with your feral children.”

“They are not feral,” John said as he got up and began climbing down.

“KARL, THAT’S MINE!”

“Alright, maybe they are,” John admitted to himself as he climbed down the ladder to deal with his children.

You rolled your eyes as John started yelling. “Fucking children,” you muttered.

[allthelovelywriting]

Champagne Society

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4859

Author’s Note: Look you take Arthur to a bar then fuck him that’s it send tweet. And Arthur has a praise kink don’t @ me. And a breeding kink but we been knew. Trying something new out. 4K words of poorly written smut lets go.

cross-posted to ao3

Summary:  Your smile is far more dubious, and you hope he accepts your offer: “Camp is a long way back from here. Maybe we could grab a room?”

The question is out, the intention is clear, the choice is his. Arthur has been respectful the entire time you’ve been together— though hesitantly nervous may be a better description. But you’re ready now; while you may sit among them here, you’re not like the “society gals” that need a ring on their finger to show their love. And that is what you feel. You’ve known it for a while now, even if you haven’t been with him that long.

The streets of Saint Denis weren’t empty, per say, but there was a certain feeling to the town as night rolled in. A sense of freedom, of secrets blanketed with the slight chill of later hours.

It was here you found yourself, pulling Arthur along as you got closer and closer to the saloon. It was one of the few places in the “civilized world” he felt anything close to comfortable, and after all he’d done for you today, you thought it nice to pay him back.

You told him so over a glass of whiskey, to which he smiled and said, “Figured it was ‘bout time to have a proper outing, you an’ me.”

You smiled too, leaning a bit closer to him. “It’s a nice change of pace, all in all.”

Arthur nods and drinks his whiskey. Not too much, just enough to calm down. You place your hand on his arm, just resting there. He tenses— tenses and then hates himself for it, but you move your thumb in calming circles. “It’s okay,” you remind him with the movement. “I understand.”

Casual touch isn’t something he’s used to, not something he’s explored too much. Introduced by you a few months prior, when you had toed the line of friends and something more, then reinforced a little after, when you crossed that line with a day-long fishing trip that ended with a kiss. A soft kiss, hesitant and soft, but caring.

Not unlike the one that you press against his cheek now, though this is less hesitant, more teasing. Flirting.

The richer folk of Saint Denis pay little mind to the two of you and maybe that’s the reason he feels confident enough to take the hand you haven’t moved to his lips, kissing the back of it in an imitation of a scene in the moving picture you saw that day.

You giggle at the gesture and Arthur’s blue eyes seem to shine at the sound. When you pull away and Arthur orders another drink, you look down at your lap.

The dress that adorns you is a pretty one, lace and frills and a large change of pace from your normal camp clothes. When you had mentioned, offhand, to Arthur the marvel of moving pictures being shown in the big cities, where it was far nicer than the theater in Valentine, and how you’d love to see one, you never thought you actually would. You’d almost forgotten you’d mentioned it, it’s been so long ago.

But Arthur hadn’t, and you suspected that journal of his had something to do with it. Early this morning, he had approached you, smiled bashfully, and offered a day away from camp. Before the show that evening, he’d taken you to get a new dress, then a fancy lunch, and finally the event you had waited for.

“Thank you so much for today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “I had so much fun. I know how much you dislike the city; it was so considerate of you to do this for me.”

You punctuate the compliment with a kind smile, knowing he’ll deny it, refuse it, but you’ll gladly give him more praise. You figure his self-doubt cannot be a bottomless pit, but it does run as deep as an ocean. Still, you’ll freely offer up as much caring as it takes until he agrees: he’s wonderful.

And it starts now, as he looks away and says something about it not being that big of a deal. You silence him with a kiss— not on the lips, but rather right below his ear, where his jaw meets his neck. The sensitive spot quiets him immediately, a large hand of his coming to rest upon yours, tightening briefly. You smile, teasing tongue there, before pulling back.

Your smile is far more dubious, and you hope he accepts your offer: “Camp is a long way back from here. Maybe we could grab a room?”

The question is out, the intention is clear, the choice is his. Arthur has been respectful the entire time you’ve been together— though hesitantly nervous may be a better description. But you’re ready now; while you may sit among them here, you’re not like the “society gals” that need a ring on their finger to show their love. And that is what you feel. You’ve known it for a while now, even if you haven’t been with him that long.

Maybe that’s what you see in Arthur’s eyes as he nods, pronounces “Sure” in that way that drags out the u into an o and distances him further from the champagne society around you.

You’re filled with something akin to giddiness— though that seems too immature— a healthy dose of arousal and, when Arthur takes your hand in his— initiates that basic contact he’d been denied so long— a deep feeling of adoration.

The stairs up to the room are cleaner than Valentine, but not as appealing as Strawberry. The room isn’t too large, but, you note with something that may actually be giddiness, the bed is.

When you turn to Arthur, you already know it’s going to be an uphill battle to get him to give himself completely to you. Not for lack of trust, no, but because the deep-rooted doubt (or hate, as you hesitate to call it— how could someone like him despise himself?) that festers in him. You can almost feel it when he reaches for you, wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. Feel it in the way he tries to distract you, get you too worked up to undress him properly and keep himself hidden from you.

But you stop that as soon as it starts. You slow the kiss into something more romantic, more caring. You trace along his jaw to his collarbones— another sensitive spot— and allow yourselves a chance to take comfort in how familiar this is.

When Arthur’s hold is more relaxed, you pull away. He looks down at you, gaze adoring but lust-filled. “You’re so beautiful,” you say. Then, quoting the earlier show, you add, “my darling.” The term of endearment had been spoken to one spouse to another, but you figured it could work well for you both too. Unlike earlier, when Arthur had mimicked the romantic action, your words held a serious kind of weight to them, one he didn’t seem to miss.

“May I?” You ask, fingers poised on the top button of his dress shirt, bought specifically for this day. You move from one course of action from another, not giving him time to deny your compliment, but still slow enough not to scare him.

“Darlin’,” he starts, voice deep in a way that sends pangs of heat downwards. “We don’t— ya don’t wanna see me.”

“Arthur,” you look straight into his eyes, make sure he’s paying attention to you, “there is nothing I’ve thought of more than how you look in these past two months. I’d love to see you, if you let me.”

He mustn’t of been expecting such an honest response. When he nods again, you brush your lips against his in a sort of thanks, then undo the first few buttons. Enough to see part of his union suit. When you’re done with that, you step back, admiring your handiwork. Arthur follows, almost instinctively, then stops.

You move your hands behind you, finding the fastening of your dress. “I’m wearing so much more than you, I’m sure it’d take double the time to get undressed.” It the truth, but only part of it. You didn’t want him becoming too uncomfortable if you undressed him too fast. It’s always been about an equal exchange with Arthur, from chores and hunting to personal lives. It’s what makes him comfortable, and you see no reason to not utilize it now.

“Need some help?” He asks, and you’re surprised but not unaccepting. You turn, moving your hair out of the way. He steps in close, warm hands staring where you left off.

“This really is a beautiful dress. You have excellent taste,” you say as the feeling of him moving down your back sends shivers up your spine. “I can’t wait to wear it again.”

“Those kinda chances don’t come to often. Not in our lives.” He sounds almost sad, apologetic, and you're quick to try and remedy that.

“You think I can’t wear this around camp? I think if I look pretty enough, Ms. Grimshaw will be too taken by my beauty to yell at me.”

He huffs a laugh behind you, and his fingers finish their work. You almost wished he hadn’t; the movement had been so intimate that it had almost let you pretend you weren’t in a temporary room, but rather a house of your own, somewhere free. But the moment’s over, and your much more taken with what is about to happen.

You turn back to Arthur. With your attention back on him, he seems more hesitant. Now that won’t do at all. You guide him to the bed, sit him down. He looks up at you, so trusting and open, that your heart melts. You’re quick to follow, move to his lap and calm him. Something familiar, again.

You’re pleasantly surprised when he reaches for you on his own accord, and you encourage it with a moan, pressed tightly against his lips. Maybe, if he were a less mature man, he would have bucked his hips up at that. Instead, his hands, one on the curve of your back and the other cupping your face, draw you closer. You oblige readily, greedily, willing to give him anything he asks. You push your hips forward, testing, and move against the growing hardness in his pants.

You do it again, then once more, relishing in the sound it pulls from the man under you. A groan, so deep you almost can’t hear it, that starts in the back of his throat and ends in yours and tells you how much this is appreciated. How much he needs this.

Your hands undo more of his shirt, and don’t stop until it’s completely undone. You pull away from him again, stoping your rocking motions. He still holds you as close as he can though. “Is this alright?”

He looks at you, and you still yourself for the denial you’re sure is coming. He says nothing, just stares at you until a big smile breaks across his face. It’s contagious. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough in a way that’s so appealing. “Yeah.”

You push the fabric off his shoulders, throwing it to the same chair your dress was moved to. You ask for permission once more as you grasp onto his belt. He gives his consent with a hushed whisper, face tucked into the right side of your neck, seemingly intent on leaving a mark. Your fumble with his pants until the red of his undergarments peaks through. When that’s done, you test the waters by pushing him back, gently. He complies readily, and you apply a bit more pressure: “Stay.” And he does stay, laying back on the bed and looking like pure sin. 

Laying on his back, chest rising and falling heavily to replenish the breath that you’d taken from him. His cheeks are flushed, color high and warm on his face. His eyes, darken by pure want, look back at you when you meet them, intent and longing.

You could admire him forever, and the breath you inhale to tell him of that reminds you that your corset is uncomfortable and you are far too dressed. Still, you speak up: “You’re gorgeous.”

You stand, undoing your underthings as quickly as you can. Arthur watches you, and you let him. Let your fingers trail from your hair to the right fastenings that push up your breasts presenting yourself in a way you know must be alluring to him.

“I’ve thought about this night so much,” you tell him. “I’ve thought of the way you’d look at me, the way you’d look. My imagination could never do it justice.”

It’s true; the way his pants are pushed open just enough that the significant bulge pushes through, taunting and teasing you is better than any image you could of conjured in your head on many a lonely night.

When the ties binding your corset are set free, you breathe in deep. Your ribs thank you and you let the tight fabric fall away. All you’re left in now is a loose undershirt and the skirt that had poofed your skirt. Your hands find the waistband of it and push it down, little by little until it reaches your mid-thigh.

“Darlin’,” Arthur says from the bed. Your teasing has only been half-intentional, unused to the fastenings of the fancy dresses. But you’ve relished in the fact that he hasn’t taken his eyes off you and watches, intently, as you let gravity take the fabric away, the chamise pooling at your feet. The shirt has kept your modesty, but you could be quick to remedy that.

Could be, but choose not to be. Instead, your hands go to the pins in your hair, letting your arms wind up and pull the shirt with it, tantalizing up, up, up until you see Arthur’s hands ball into the sheets of the bed. How far could you push the teasing on this first night together? Not too much longer, you promise yourself. And Arthur too as his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, so desperate to see all of you.

You promise him too, in a voice that’s earnest, not condescending. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, handsome.”

Finally, your hair is free, and you take to pulling the shirt over your head. Not slow, but not hurried either. You slow just as it reaches the bottom of your breasts, just to tease that little bit more.

At last, when your last article of clothing is thrown to the floor, you climb upon him again. Kneel over him and meet him for another kiss. One so unlike any others before, more heated and begging. His hands move to where your knees are bent at his sides and, when not told to stop, moves up your thighs and traces up your curves.

You bring your hips against him again, grinding hard and fast. You’re able to brush your clit against his hard cock in a way that almost makes you wonder if you could get off just like this.

“Shit,” he hisses, hands gripping your hips and pulling you against him. This time, his hips do buck up, searching for purchase against you and, yeah, you figure you probably could. “Darl’ I can feel you.”

Your wetness coats the front of his union suit, the fabric a darker shade of maroon. Any embarrassment you would have felt is wiped away by the way Arthur looks at you, desperate out of his mind. “It’s all for you, baby.”

He curses again, some word lost in the way he goes back to the crook of your neck. It’s almost cute, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. Instead, you force yourself to stand again, almost tempted not to when he makes an attempt to pull you back.

He seems to mind less when you start to pull down his pants. There’s no hesitation this time, no resistance. He raises his hips to help you, then sits up at your beckoning. Sitting again, he almost seems like he should be taking on the commanding role, and intimidating as he is. And then he looks at you, blue eyes almost drowned in a sea of lust that threatens to spill over and encompass you too, and you’re reminded that he wants to give up control.

You gladly take it and his union suit off of him, throwing the red fabric to the side. You guide him with a steady hand to the headboard, laying propped up by pillows. You know he’ll give as good as he gets, but you wonder what it would be like to just let him relax and take care of him.

You’ve no time to dwell on it as you move to straddle him once more. Before you continue moving upward, you take in the sight of him, just once more.

His cock exposed to you dribbles our precum in steady amounts, trickles down his thick shaft until it pools on his balls, begging to be licked. You want to, but you want him in you more. Feel him stretching you out, a perfect for you know he’ll provide. You look back at his face, still burning red.

“We still good?” You ask. He nods. Doesn’t respond more than that, so you reach forward and cup his face. “Arthur?”

“Been a while, that’s all,” he says it like it’s something to be shameful of. You tell him it’s not. “Just... don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me. Just being with you is enough.” You make sure to put emphasis on the word; it didn’t matter if it was with him here, now, or every day, when he makes you much happier than you’ve been in a long time. “I— I care about you so much.”

He smiled in a way that’s almost too sweet for the situation, then pulls you into a kiss that’s even sweeter. When you pull away you wait till he’s verbally said to continue before doing so.

You cup his face again, letting your thumb run across his lips. You wonder if he’ll get the hint or you should pull away when he opens his mouth, taking the digit between his lips. His warm tongue encompasses it, the flicks the tip slowly, once, twice, until you can imagine the same movements on your clit.

Your watch his mouth move for a second more until you decide you’ve missed his blush and move your other hand down to his cock. It’s thick, and you can’t wrap your hand around it entirely, but you pump him anyways.

Momentarily, his eyes lose focus, and you think you hear something that sounds like your name moaned around your thumb. But it’s not enough, not yet.

“Besides, your cock’s so big, I don’t think you could disappoint even if you tried.”

His eyes widen in shock, cheeks blazing a beautiful red. You smile at that and continue stroking him. A languid place that must be teasing with how hard he is, but you don’t dare go any faster, lest this night end too soon. You’re sure he would return in kind if that did happen, but you know he’d be so upset in himself.

His tongue continues, long strikes you can image elsewhere until you dip your hand a little lower, cupping his balls and feeling him up. He relaxes, eyes fluttering and it’s equal parts alluring and cute. He groans something you can’t quite understand. You free his mouth; “What was that, baby?”

“Please,” he murmurs in a way that makes it seem like the most shameful thing he’s said all night. You keep your hand in the same place, pleasuring him and relishing in the whimper he lets out.

You nod, even though he has his eyes closed. The bed creaks underneath you as you shift your weight, raising yourself over him, swallowing, then gripping him to steady him as you lowered down.

You inhale sharply as he enters you, almost too big, and Arthur holds your hips, preventing you from going any further. “Are you okay? D’ya need to stop?”

You shake your head. No. Maybe if you hadn’t been thinking about this since his first shot of whiskey, watching him swallow it down then sigh heavily, contently, and so easy to imagine in a different situation, or even earlier, when his steady hand met your waist and guided you through town— maybe then you would need more prep. But you don’t. You want to continue.

“I’m fine.” You push in further. He spears you apart in a way that would be painful, should be painful considering, but just makes you feel complete. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

He whines at your praise, fingers gripping harder, sure to leave bruises he’ll apologize for, but you love them. Love the way he loses controls for just a second, pulls you down closer. A second is all it takes for you to be sitting on him, him completely filling you up. You call his name, just to say it, to hear it in your voice that’s broken and wanting and so needy. Arthur responds in kind, calling back to you like some kind of imitation of the film earlier when the same thing had happened. In much a more pure situation, sure, but it’s because calling your lover’s name is the most natural thing there is.

You call for him again when you see his face, brow scrunched in concentration, mouth slightly agape. He looks at you, and you keep his eye and you raise your hips and fall once more. He pushes forward to kiss you as his hands help you find a rhythm.

Fast and hard seems to fulfill both of your desires. His hands drop to your ass like he’s wanted to all night and can’t find the will to resist now. He moans out shortly after you reach a hand down to find your clit.

He watches for a moment, seemingly taken with the way you please yourself, seeking your own pleasure. His chest rises and falls again, and lets out a cry of pleasure as you land particularly rough. His teeth catch his lip, seemingly embarrassed by the way he does.

“Don’t,” you gasp out. He looks up at you, charming eyes seemingly shocked by the reprimand. “I want— I’d love to hear you.”

He doesn’t hold his lip anymore, lets his breathing become audible and ragged. Sweet moans and breathy grunts come together to form something that promises his enjoyment. When he inhales sharply, you think you can make out your name. Arthur repeated it, clearer, a growl at the back of his throat.

“You feel so good,” you find yourself saying. “I always knew you’d feel so good.”

His head falls back, leaving his neck bare for you to make some marks of your own. You do happily, biting and sucking the skin you find. Arthur, maybe emboldened by this, or too gone to care, starts speaking.

“I was thinking ‘bout you too. Whenever you’d go down to the river and pull your skirt up to go in the water. Took everything I had not to take you right there.” He doesn’t stop bringing you up and down with his hands. The fast pace makes your thighs burn, unused the wide position you have to be in, but it’s worth it.

“You shouldn’t of held back,” you find yourself saying. “I did it so you would see.”

He groans at that, raising his hips to fuck further into you. “You tempt me in ways that are dangerous. Make me want things I shouldn’t.”

“Careful now,” you tease. You catch his lips again, a quick nip before you continue. “Keep talking like that and you’ll start sounding like a good man. And we both know how much you’d hate that.”

He doesn’t give you much of a response other than a huff of a laugh and a kiss that makes you think he might just love you too.

“You deserve everything I can give you,” you whisper to him, more serious. You push more of your weight on to him, making him lay back. The change of position takes the strain off your thighs and moves it to your knees, but it’s better. Arthur lays before you, face impassive but eyes begging for you to finish your thought, desperate for that validation. You give it to him tenfold. Pushing his hands flat against the bed near his head, you slide your fingers over his forearms, across his palms. Searching for something to hold onto. Until finally, your fingers are interlaced and you’re staring deeply into his eyes. Your pace has slowed, which makes him pay more attention to your words.

“You are a good man, Arthur Morgan. And so deserving of every kindness. And you’re— you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He surges forward and kisses you. Holds you against him deeply as he nears his end. One hand untangles itself from its spot at your back and moves to your front, fingers finding your clit. You both let out an appreciative sound—you, as your orgasm draws ever closer, and him, at the way your walls contract ever tighter.

His eyes flutter closed, breath ragged and you know he’s close. Right on that precipice and you so desperately want to push him over. “Arthur, my love,” you murmur, sugar-sweet. “Please cum inside me.”

And he does, hips canting upward to bury himself deep inside of you. The warm that seems to spread upwards is enough to push you over the edge too.

Your walls flutter around him, twice in natural response, a few more times intentionally to watch his shoulders cave, coming to bury his face into your neck. “Yer gon’ be the death of me, sweetheart.”

“There are worse ways to go, I suppose,” you breathe out. You allow yourself to lay like that, awkwardly half on the bed, but numb enough not to care, for just a little while longer. Long enough for Arthur to find your mouth, meet it in a kiss that was sloppy, slow, and tired.

“Meant our first time to be a bit nicer,” you said as you removed yourself from atop him. The juices that flowed from you were less attractive in your post-orgasm clarity. You grab the nearest thing you have—the undershirt that had somehow landed near the bed—to clean up. It needed to be washed anyway, and you aren’t planning on wearing it anytime soon. “There’s always next time, I suppose.”

Arthur nods. He looks different, now. More relaxed then you’ve seen him in weeks, months even. Cute enough—dare you say—to warrant you leaning over and kissing him. A soft bite to his lip for good measure.

“Next time might have to wait,” he mumbles against your mouth when you pull away, eyes still closed. “‘M not as young as you used to be, remember.”

You smile, nod. The soft linen of your shirt cleans his thick cock, tracing downwards. Your fingers brush against his skin, pushing the cloth along, gentle to be an accident if he were naive enough to believe it.

“Darlin’,” he warns, voice a low growl.

You pull away. “The morning, then.”

With both of you as clean as you’re going to get without taking a bath, you reach for the next nearest item of clothing to keep you someway decent. Arthur’s shirt. It a bit rough, not meant to be slept in, but it smells like him. You only do up a few of the middle buttons, just to tease him a little. Then you take your spot at the head of the bed, looking to your lover to join you.

“Keep acting like that,” Arthur warns, taking his spot next to you, “and we ain’t gonna make it till morning.”

You smile, welcoming him into your arms. He pulls you against him, shifts the covers around until your both warm and wrapped in each other’s arms.

And yet, you’re not content. Not yet, not with a secret on your lips, and a burden on your chest. “Arthur—“ you start, a bit breathless as you force yourself to talk with any forethought. “I love you.”

He stiffens beside you. You can feel his arms tense, his heartbeat quicken. Stays like that for a moment before he responds; “Couldn’ta been that good.”

He tries to pass it off with humor, self-deprecation, but you know what he really means. Do you mean it?

“If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. But I wanted to tell you. So you know that I really do care. And everything I said before—I meant it. I really do think you’re wonderful. Beautiful, even. And I don’t care what you’ve been through, or how bad you think you are, because I’ll love you all the same.”

Through your ramble, he’s stayed quiet. And stays quiet still as a moment passes, then another. Give and take, that’s what this relationship is built on. You’ve given—

And he tugs you closer to him, pressed you thought against him in a hug that’s so warm you know his answer before he says it. But the way his deep timber, quiet, whispered against you, but still so sincere responds, with a gruff but honest, “I love you too.”

— it lets you know he’s ready to give it back too.

The streets of Saint Denis weren’t empty; per day, but here, content with the man you loved, they might as well be.

[blackasmidnightcats]

Continued discussion about Sophie's "redemption arc"

Original post from @agathasarmy

@agathasarmy I've moved this to a new post cause I have a lot of feelings and still want to continue this discussion and I hope you don't mind

So anyways...

(this wouldve been also a great way to introduce the concept of legacies, especially with the past vs. present. vs. future theme and it would also parallel tedros’ storyline as they’re both dealing with the fallout of carrying their predecessor’s glory)

YESSSS

All of them have big shoes to fill because of the people who've nurtured and believed in them

One thing I really hated in the camelot years was the lack of mourning that Agatha and Sophie did for Callis and Lady Lesso respectively.

That is the kind of anguish that I was looking for. Just them being children and missing their parent/parental figure and wishing that they could still be someone's child who could look out for them and motivate them when they needed.

Like Sophie remembering that Lady Lesso believed in her the way that Sophie could never do and Agatha remembering how her mother would have wanted her daughter to live out her life with with love and adventure.

Let's not even get with Tedros (that's a whole other meta in itself)

so far all i got was lesso and hester being the best examples of it, but what i also got from them was that Evil wasnt being cruel but serving as the balance to Good like ok???? what exactly does that entail??

Exactly, I'm really frustrated about this because as much as Soman has tried to make us understand that Good and Evil are equals, he has never actually shown us how equal they can be since all the Evil figures that we have are usually helping Good.

I'm really pissed that the Coven's quest involve them finding a new School Master when they have absolutely no need to do that. They should be doing their own stuff instead. It's the one thing I shame Prof Dovey for.

that was what I expected the series would be: Tedros and Agatha as Good because Good always stands stronger together, and Sophie as Evil because Evil is best alone, but not lonely

I stand behind your point about "Alone but not Lonely" quote because if that does not describe Sophie's biggest problem than I don't know what does. She can have all the fans that she wants and build the whole School for Evil in her tribute and pretend that she's a strong independent woman who doesn't need a man but she'll still feel the loneliness seep through if she doesn't have a closure with her insecurities and envy

instead Soman subverted our expectations in the worst way possible since GoT S8 (dont @ me)

I will stand by you with the hate for GoT s8. That was a trainwreck so badly done it imploded on itself. Recently, writers that have big productions have been having a hard time gracefully ending their stories

EXACTLY I JUST KNOW SOMAN’S GONNA BRUSH IT OFF OR BARELY MENTION IT WHEN THIS KIND OF DIALOGUE IS MORE IMPORTANT TO THE MESSAGE OF THE STORY THAN SOMAN RANDOMLY INSERTING DOVEY AS TEDROS’ GODMOTHER OR REAPER BEING KING FOR PLOT CONVENIENCE

I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. I WILL NOT STOP BEING SO FREAKING BITTER ABOUT IT.

Soman was off with a good start on that one. I would have been more interested with Sophie trying to handle her narcissistic desires vs her need to actually be a decent Dean to all the new students just like how Lady Lesso was for her. Her understanding how to be Evil and be herself would have been a nice read.

if soman had to bring back a trope from the last era, it would be the discussion of dichotomies i.e. Good vs. Evil, instead of the evil lover trope cos aint nobody got the time for that

YESSS

It's still technically the school for GOOD AND EVIL SERIES even if we go to a new era I was hoping that Soman would still have these as the roots but NOOOO.

His obsession with Sophie obsessing over boys that obsess over her is a strong one apparently.

like at this point it’ just really blatantly obvious how much Soman favors Sophie and I wouldnt be that bothered if he didnt sacrifice the plot or the other characters’ brain cells to go along with it cos to this day I refuse to believe that people really would just accept Rhian like that after reading The Tale of Sophie and Agatha

EXCATLY. I HONESTLY COULD NOT UNDERSTAND SOME OF THE DECISIONS OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS ABOUT THIS.

Like did no one still understand that not everything is what it seems?!

I am baffled with how easy they trusted a comeplete stranger over Agatha who has proven over and over and over again that she fights for the good of EVERYONE and is perfecrly willing to sacrifice her happiness for theirs.

Like at this point I'm thinking that her fairy tale propably does not do justice for everything that she's been through cause if the other people of the Woods read her story the way we did, there would be no doubt that we would stand behind Agatha for a lifetime

like cmon people we went through this already?? a random hot stranger coming out of nowhere??? ITS THE RED FLAG

In defense with them, (and I am saying this very, very off handedly) Rhian did come around saving everyone's asses and was a pretty decent guy (NOT).

WHAT I AM REALLY SURPISED ABOUT IS THAT THEY WANT A PIECE OF HIM AND HOW EASILY THEY TRUSTED HIM WITH EVERYTHING

I THOUGHT THE POINT OF THIS SERIES WAS TO SHOW THAT ROMANCE WASN’T THE ONLY HIGHEST MANIFESTATION OF LOVE, BUT A LOVE BETWEEN FAMILY OR A LOVE FOR ONE’S SELF WAS JUST AS IMPORTANT????

One of my biggest beefs with Soman's writing. He highlights romance too much compared to platonic and self love. I want a moment with Sophie like the one in TLEA where Agatha was getting stressed about letting Sophie and Tedros grow closer and Soman managed to pretty realistically portray that; Agatha was being insecure and possessive and jealous but she let herself reflect on her actions. She made peace with it and faced it with bravery even though it really hurts her. Because she understood that she would never have closure for this if she didn't let it happen.

AGGIE IS THE BEST. I LOVE HER

Why the hell can't Soman write something similar like this for Sophie.

WHY SOMAN PUTTING THIS AMATONORMATIVE BS IN THIS STORY AGAIN LIKE WE ARE TIRED

In fairness, Sophie getting into ANOTHER romantic relationship I will PASS SO HARD.

But for everyone else that deserves some romantic love (TAGATHA PLS) I will accept crawling

also I like your ideas on what could’ve happened instead, with Rhian being more proactive towards Tedros and Agatha instead of Sophie - it would play well into the Camelot myths and themes that I was really expecting in the new era

I KNOW RIGHT?!?!?!

If Soman could only just get over his Sophie Obsession, then he would understand that Tedros was the perfect target for Rhian's manipulations and Sophie was the perfect target for the downfall.

I have no idea how the hell did Rhian think (but apparently it worked because soman plot) that seducing Sophie would win him the love of the Woods.

plus it wouldve been a chance for Sophie to actively help them instead of tearing them apart like in the last 3 books?? like she’s kinda doing that rn but it would’ve been nice if she didn’t have a hand in stealing their happiness like she’s always done too

Well...for me she doesn't seem like she's tearing them apart anymore but I stand with your point about her stealing their happiness.

This could have been good, good character development for her. Her realizing that she keeps making tagatha miserable and stealing what belongs to them and the complexity that comes with her inner struggle between her envy vs love for her best friends.

PLUS CHADDICK DESERVED TO LIVE INSTEAD OF BEING KILLED FOR PLOT CONVENIENCE LITERALLY IT’S THE WORST DEATH IN THE SERIES NOT COS IT’S SAD BUT COS IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE AND MAKES FOR TERRIBLE WRITING IMHO

"NOT COS IT'S SAD BUT BECAUSE IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE"

SCREAM IT A BIT LOUDER SO SOMAN CAN HEAR IT AT THE BACK!!!!

Soman, I will never forgive you for doing this to this boy.

You could have made Tedros and Chaddick have a falling out. I mean the last time that they interacted was during AWWP and Chaddick treated Tedros as crap. I know that all of us headcanon that these two are each other's best mates but they've barely had significant interactions for me to consider that a case.

They'd be so pressured about not followong the legacy of Arthur and Lance that a small problem could propably tear these two apart.

also, on another point, you would think Sophie would be more sympathetic to Tedros situation given that they’re both leading populations, essentially

plus Sophie learned to understand Tedros’ mind better in awwp??? where the hell did that relationship development went (even if she was Filip at the time)??

I am honestly more suprised at how viciously Tedros seems to treat her.

Like it wasn't that long after TLEA that Tedros was perfectly willing to let Sophie stay in Camelot and even asked her to visit but come his coronation (which was like less than a day after) he keeps on proclaiming about how happy he is with her out his life and in aCoT his distrust for her was off the roof.

Then there is the Handbook ordeal with Sophie just completely roasting Tedros like what happend to the two of you?

I don't even understand Soman's decision about this. It doesn't even affect the actual storyline in anyway. It's just Sophie and Tedros at each other's throats.

Tedros has been treated the crappiest out of the main trio (let’s be honest) as if the game was built to oppose him, meanwhile Sophie gets major Soman privilege and is given the role ONCE AGAIN that could change the game

THIS

It's the reason why I can't even read AWWP anymore. It hurts too much to have to read at how badly the other characters treat him. Just reading the first line of that book gets me anxious.

And PREACH THAT SOPHIE HAS MAJOR SOMAN PRIVILEGES.

This is why I was actually suprised that Soman shared that he planned on killing Sophie off at the end of TLEA but we'll never how that story went

like if the School Years was for Sophie to realize and accept her Evilness, couldnt Soman have decided to give Tedros and Agatha the deciding roles this time around given that, you know, it’s called the CAMELOT YEARS ERA???

Honestly, I just want Tedros to have the most agency out of all the characters. Like make his decisions actually matter to the plot. Make him the center of the plot and revolve Rhian's plans around him instead of being against him cause that's exactly how Agatha's role in the school years era was for Rafal.

The basic formula goes like this;

Sophie important to the Rafal's/Rhian's/Japeth's/hell even Evelyn Sader's plan

Agatha/Tedros are in the way of that plan so they have to go

Agatha/Tedros saves Sophie's ass

Sophie making the big decision

Like didn't Soman say that he didn't want to be that repetitive writer? That's why he changed the ending of AWWP because it was too similar to the first book?

WTF SOMAN?

she’s still out here wanting someone to look at her the tedros looks at agatha (honestly big mood right there) but I wish this didn’t have to be her main conflict

This is actually why I'm not that mad that Sophie fell for Rhian. Because at the end of the day Sophie will be Sophie.

But I agree I kinda hoped that she wouldn't be as guilible

the girl is smart and knows her worth so I can’t really understand why she decided to get ENGAGED to the next person (Hort obviously cant count cos plot) who tells her she looks pretty???

NOW THIS. THIS IS MY BEEF WITH SOPHIE.

I can understand why she'd date him but MARRIAGE?! That was going a little bit too far.

You'd think after her engagement with Rafal that she'd be TRAUMATIZE for the next one.

And honestly it would have been hella funny if she did feel this way. Imagine Rhian nearly getting all that he needed but Sophie just straight up leaves him on the stage cause she's still got issues with it.

Would have been my favorite scene

And Hort, poor boy, he needs character development of his own. I'm not his fan honestly and currently, he's not winning me over.

ALSO THE FACT THAT SHE ENDS UP BEING CONSIDERED FOR THE ROLE OF QUEEN OF CAMELOT INFURIATES ME SO MUCH COS WE WENT THROUGH THAT SHIT IN TLEA???? WHY ARE WE BRINGING THIS UP AGAIN????

THIS. THIS IS MY BEEF WITH SOMAN

Can he not understand that she would be crap as QUEEN?

A parallel I noticed with Rhian and Sophie is that they both completely remodeled their respective castles in their image. Not even considering anyone else. And they both treat their faculty as crap.

Kinda tells us that she really would be crap as queen.

At least the Camelot citizens had enough braincells not to fall for this crap

Every other kingdom in the Woods though. They better be budgeting gold to Tedros and Agatha once they're back on the throne.

(and im so so tired of Sophie stealing Agatha’s Ever After from her, indirectly or not, like cant she just be happy for her best friend and move the plot in some way other than this???)

I really do believe envy is only one of the things that Sophie needs to sort out. The fact that she admitted at the end of TLEA that she does, in fact, feel envious that Agatha gets to be a queen and her little episode in the Ever Never Roundtable about how she's the one with the official title of queen and that Agatha isn't even a princess says a lot.

I wouldn't have minded if Sophie had a slight blackout and just lost it and saying mean things about Agatha but instantly regreting it because no matter what, deep down in the foundations of her soul, she loves Agatha with everything that she has. And is she has the be in a constant battle with herself about this fact then she's willing to keep on fighting. That would have been satisfying to read.

I mean just imagine if Sophie was there when Agatha was leading her army and Hester mentions that Agatha is Queen in the School, in Camelot, or anywhere elsse in the Woods. They would follow her. Willingly.

Sophie would have had a panic attack.

This girl needs to learn that she can't force people to be loyal and follow her by making every physical reminder of how amazing she is but instead she needs to lead and make some sacrifices of her own because she's doing these sacrifices in the benefit of Evil and its future instead of herself.

Sophie appreciating people?? Not only remembering them when she needs something from them??? Like @ soman im not asking her to be the next Mother Theresa but I’ll take this character development pls and thank u

I am all in for Sophie appreciating everyone. If she can't do it for other people, then she better do it for Evil.

[she-is-tim]

Neighbours AU part 3  Apologies

Lucas is a young, exhausted musician who just tries to relax, while Eliott is the overexcited, dubstep loving artist who lives next door.

Aka Lucas confronts his annoying neighbour who turns out to be gorgeous

Part 1, Part 2

Tuesday 16:34

Two days passed since Sunday and Lucas was still not over Eliott. He had high hopes and for that he got hit hard by the ground. He was glad, that his neighbour didn’t try to contact him since or that he haven’t seen him. It would be hard to sand face to face, knowing that he has a girlfriend, knowing that Lucas had false expectations from him. Everything was just a mess right now, he couldn’t touch the piano ever since.

His phone started buzzing like crazy on the coffee table, he was laying on the couch, his right leg touching the floor. He reached for his phone and picked up the call. 

“Hello.” he mumbled. His voice was a bit cracked, not from crying, that would be a stupid thing to do, but because he just got home from work and was talking all day.

“Dude! Hey!” Basile screamed from the other side, Lucas had to keep the phone away from his ear in order to not go deaf. 

“Basile... What do you want?” he asked with a tired voice, he was really not in the mood to listen to his friend’s bullshit. 

“Listen here, there’s gonna be a big party tomorrow night. Yann said you’re not working on Thursday, so you should come too.” he said with a lot of excitement in his voice. “It’s gonna be fun.”

“Bas, you know that I hate going to parties.” 

“You can’t just sit at home and snuggle on the couch, crying after some guy.” he said now seriously, this was unusual from Basile. “That guy doesn’t deserve you.” Lucas smiled a little hearing his silly friend being so nice to him. 

“Okay, I’ll go.” he said.

“YES! Okay, we’ll be meeting at Yann’s tomorrow around 19:00, okay? We’re gonna get so wasted!” he said excitedly, speaking so fast, Lucas barely catched the time. Then Basile just hung up.

Lucas put his phone back to the coffee table and looked at the ceiling. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to go to a party. He haven’t been in any since high school,but hanging out with the gang was always a lot of fun. Besides, he has to forget Eliott, since he’s a lost case anyways.

He got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, but he noticed something on the floor, in front of the door. He walked there and picked up a carefully folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and his heart skipped a beat. It was a drawing, the paper was split in the middle by a line that was supposed to represent the wall, on the right side there was a raccoon, a sad one actually, looking at the wall nervously, while on the left side was a cute hedgehog sitting at a piano, playing some nice melodies. There were two words on the bottom of the paper. Forgive me

Lucas was staring at it for long minutes before he could move to the kitchen. He put the paper on the counter and turned on the kettle. He kept glancing over where the drawing was. He knew Eliott draws himself as a raccoon, they talked about it on saturday, but he couldn’t get over the fact that he drew him as a hedgehog. When the water got hot, he poured some in a mug, making himself a nice mint and strawberry tea. He left the kitchen, not looking at the drawing this time and flopped down on the couch, turning on his tv, watching some stupid comedy on Netflix.

Tuesday 19:17

He slipped the drawing under the door for Lucas hours ago and he still had no idea what the boy was thinking of it. He was too scared to talk to him, so he tried his best, approaching him by the ony thing he was good at: art. He was thinking about Lucas’ spirit animal since he stepped into his apartment, but this morning he just woke up to the thought that Lucas must be a grumpy hedgehog. His back is spikey, getting scared easily, but actually the most adorable animal that exists. 

Lucille left on Monday, early in the morning, so he was alone ever since. He got better, but he still couldn’t touch his phone or go near his laptop. He was afraid of social interactions for a long time after his anxiety attacks. It wasn’t easy, especially since he should be working on his project. The deadline was coming closer each day. He couldn’t let this chance to slip away because of his stupid mind.

He walked around in the living room, thinking about Lucas. His smell was already gone, which made Eliott feel much more lonely than he used to be. Knowing that the person he desires is right next to you, but you can’t reach him is a really painful thing to think about. His phone dragged him out of these angsty thoughts when it pinged. He reached for it with shaking hands, just to check the message, he didn’t wanted to reply.

From Lucille:  We’re going out tomorrow, 20:00, wear something nice

Fuck.

Wednesday 19:56

The party was loud, it was hosted by one of their high school friend, Alexandre. Lucas noticed a lot of familiar faces, like Emma, Daphné, Imane. The music was bursting so loud, Lucas’ chest was shaking from it, or maybe it was the booze starting to kick in. They had a couple drinks at Yann’s place before they came, just to set the mood for the party.

The living room was emptied to be a perfect dance floor, Lucas was chilling on the couch that was pushed to the wall in the corner, drinking some beer. People seem to have fun, they were yelling, dancing, kissing...

Arthur, Yann and Basile was talking to Alex, who was really happy that they boys came. This party was like a high school reunion, which kinda made Lucas feel better. He liked his high school years, even if it was hard at first. When he accepted his own sexuality, coming out to all of his friends, he got so much support that he was never expecting. It was overwhelming, making him extremely happy. 

Now he was back, but felt like he didn’t belong here. He was a quiet musician, an exhausted adult who never went out to have fun, make out with someone he will never gonna meet again or have one night stands. He wanted love, a significant other by his side and his thoughts went back to saturday, when he was with Eliott. Fuck!

He shook his head and chugged his beer, going for another one in the kitchen. He’s going to get wasted and have fun, not thinking about his neighbour tonight.

Two hours later Lucas was very, very drunk, dancing in the middle of the living room like there’s no tomorrow. He took off his hoodie, leaving it on the couch like 40 minutes ago, now he was only wearing a navy blue shirt and dark grey jeans. Somewhere along the lines he started pressing his body to a really nice looking guy, he wasn’t even close to Eliott’s beauty, but he seemed to like the closeness of Lucas and that was more than enough for him. He wrapped his arms around him, rocking his hips, while rubbing their chest together. 

The guy slid his arms on Lucas’ waist, pulling him closer and kissing his neck a few times. The alcohol hit his head so much, he barely could feel the lips touching his skin. His body was hot, his mind went blank and he just wanted to forget. 

They didn’t needed more than ten minutes to end up making out on the couch, ignoring all the people around them. No one really gave a fuck, since basically everyone was doing the same somewhere in the house. Lucas was too drunk to think straight, so he just went with the flow, letting the guy to kiss him wildly, rubbing their crotch together. 

Things escalated quickly, he didn’t remember when the guy took off his shirt, but his eyes popped open when he started to unzipp his jeans. Lucas grabbed the guy’s hand, trying to stop him, but he was too drunk and too weak.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re gonna enjoy it.” he whispered into his ears. Lucas shivered and tried to resist, but his mind was too dizzy.

He closed his eyes, when he heard a noise, a body landing on the floor. He looked into the direction and he saw Eliott, holding Lucas’ shirt he probably picked up from the floor and looking at the guy, who was sitting on the floor. Some of the guests looked at them, being interested in the drama.

“Don’t touch him!” Eliott hissed, clenching his fist so much, his veins popped out.

Lucas sat up, holding his head, cause he was still pretty drunk. He grabbed Eliott’s arm, softly squeezing it. 

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled, even though he didn’t actually care. It made him happy that Eliott was here and he saved him from this random guy.

Eliott now looked at him, his eyes softened and knelt down, stroking Lucas’ face. His touch was like electricity, waking up his mind from the dizziness all those beer caused. 

“Let’s get you home.” he said softly, giving Lucas his shirt back. 

A couple hard moments later Eliott finally reached his goal to get Lucas stand up from the couch. He wrapped his arm around his waist, gently helping him to walk out of the house. Thankfully they didn’t meet any of Lucas’ friends, so he could go out without anyone bothering them. He walked to the road, calling for a taxi, while Lucas was squatting on the sidewalk, looking like he’s gonna throw up. After he gave the address, he walked back to Lucas just in time, he was stroking his back as he threw up everything on the grass. 

Long moments later Lucas seemed to be in a better condition, Eliott gave him a bottle of water. He washed his mouth first and then chugged up the rest of the bottle. They taxi arrived, so they hopped in on the backseat. Eliott told the driver their address and pulled Lucas to his side, making sure that he’s okay. 

Thrusday 10:35

Lucas woke up with a terrible headache, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was in his bed, wearing only boxers, smelling like mens bathroom. He barely remembered anything that happened last night, his memories were fuzzy. He got up, putting on a hoodie he stole from Yann ages ago, that was long and cozy. He walked to the bathroom, looking into the mirror, his face looked terrible, his hair was all over the place. He sighed and washed his face, brushed his teeth. Then he heard the noise from the kitchen. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked there, shocked at the sight of a very fresh, good looking Eliott.

The tall boy was wearing white jeans, a black shirt and a black hoodie, he was making breakfast apparently, humming something. Lucas tried to slowly approach him, but Eliott heard the steps of his naked feet, looking at him with a big, bright smile. Lucas could swear that it was brighter than the sun itself.

“Good morning. I’m making breakfast.” he said happily.

“That’s really nice of you.” that is all he could say, his head was hurting too much to have a full conversation about last night. Also his heart apparently decided to beat as fast as it just could when he smelled Eliott’s cologne. It was basically torture having such a beautiful person here, in his kitchen. 

He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured some fresh coffee in it. Looks like Eliott thought about everything. He put in some sugar and started drinking, while watching Eliott stading by the stove. His chest felt warm by the thought of having breakfast with Eliott. 

A few minutes later the omlette was served on two plates, Eliott put it down on the table, smiling at Lucas softly. He couldn’t help, but smile back. Whatever happened last night, he was happy that it happened, otherwise Eliott wouldn’t be here, being kind, gentle, making breakfast for him. 

“Take this as my apologize. I really wanted to come on Sunday, but... I had a problem.” he explained shorty, looking at Lucas, hoping for any signs of forgiveness. 

This reminded Lucas of the moment when he saw that girl kissing Eliott in the doorway and then walking inside his apartment. He shook his head and put down the mug. 

“I’ll take your apology.” he said softly, sitting down at the table. Trying to be friends with Eliott was still better than not having any contact with him at all. He was happy around this person, his presence just made Lucas feel like life isn’t that bad at all. 

[celtics534]

Natural Chapter 14!

It’s time for the next installment of Natural!

Also read on: FF.net and AO3

Harry’s mouth trailed down Ginny’s neck and across her chest, not stopping until just above her navel. He allowed his attention to focus solely on her. Nothing else mattered. The world could combust and it wouldn’t make a difference as long as he and Ginny were still together.

“Harry?” Her voice was delightfully husky.  

“Hmm?” He didn’t stop his ministrations at her abdomen.

“We can’t keep avoiding our parents.”

And that was one way to calm his randiness; mention their parents. Harry rolled off her and fell back against the messy sheets. “They haven’t asked any questions yet.”

Ginny turned to face him, lifting her head up on her elbow. “That’s because we keep claiming we have practice or the flu, but I know my mother. If we dodge another family dinner she’ll just show up at the house.”

Harry brought his hands up to scrub his face. Even after two months, the cool metal that rested on his left hand still both startled and thrilled him. They had been married for two months. Two amazing months, filled with quidditch and honoring their nuptials, though they both took off their rings when they went out in public, hoping to keep a low profile. If either of them was spotted with gold on their fourth fingers, it would be on the front page of every newspaper you could think of (and some you wouldn’t expect).

But even being unable to wear their rings out on the town hadn’t brought them down from their high. No, the only regretful thing that had been nagging at them over the past sixty days was the lack of family time they’d had. Neither of them wanted to tell their parents they had gone out and gotten married without including their families. So instead of going to the Weasley family dinners or luncheons that Harry’s mother (and Sirius, whenever he felt posh) hosted, the couple had begged off, claiming hectic schedules or bouts of illness.

No one had argued with them (both families knew how crazy quidditch and life could be), but the end of the season was almost upon them. The Harpies had their final game next week, having been unable to clinch a season win without the help of their new star chaser for most of their games. Puddlemere, however, was in the lead for the title. Their final regular season game was next week, against Holyhead.

Ginny bopped her husband on the nose. “Earth to Harry. Focus, luv. We have to tell them before some reporter snoops around and finds our certificate.”

Harry knew she was right, but fuck, he didn’t want to upset their families… He didn't want to imagine his mother’s face, let alone Molly’s! He took a deep breath and turned so he faced her. “How about we invite everyone out to dinner the night of the game?”

She considered it for a moment. “That could work. And if we’re in public our mothers can’t scream too loudly.”

“That was my thought as well.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Because I came up with the plan, though, I think you should be the one to tell them.”

Ginny let out a snort. “In your dreams, Potter.”

“You are in all my dreams, Potter.”

Harry was rather proud of that line, but Ginny’s jaw just dropped. “Oh… I sometimes forget my last name is Potter,” she admitted.

“I don’t.” Harry gave her a wicked grin and turned them until he reclaimed his position above her. His mouth grazed her ear. “I love calling you Mrs Potter.”

A sudden thought hit him as he made his way from her ear to her cheek. “Next season, we can make it so your jersey says Potter on it.” Harry couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “I can’t wait to see you with my name on your back.”

“I didn’t know you were so possessive, Mr Potter.” Ginny’s tone held bite, but Harry looked into her eyes and saw no anger. Actually, if he was reading her right (and Harry was sure he was), Ginny was more than a little turned on.

“Possessive makes me sound so egotistical. The others can look, but I reserve all rights to touch.”

Ginny leaned back and let one eyebrow raise. “Who gave you that kind of power?”

Instead of giving her a verbal reply, Harry closed the distance and kissed her, letting his teeth pull at her bottom lip when he drew away. “Feel free to tell me no whenever you want.”

The way Ginny drew him back to her was all the response he needed.  

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“What a presentation we’ve had today!” Mothers said for the third time since the final whistle had blown. The game had seemed so one-sided from the moment the two teams had mounted their brooms. “Weasley was in perfect form. Twelve goals and seven assists. Incredible!”

“Too true, Phil,” Gregory agreed. “The Harpies came out looking for blood.”

“And there was a bit of that. Morgan’s health report has just come in and the healers are saying he’ll make a full recovery before the first game of the playoffs.” Mothers let out a little chuckle. “I can count the number of times a keeper has knocked a beater out of the game on one hand.”

Gregory laughed along with his fellow announcer. “We all knew Hansen had a strong arm, but now Morgan now knows better than most.”  

“One final recap before we change over to the Kenmare and Falmouth. Puddlemere has won their final match of the regular season by a mere ten points. The score being two hundred and seventy to two hundred and eighty.”

“Potter made a spectacular catch!” Gregory praised. “He was perfectly in tune with the chasers and their position. If he had caught it a minute sooner they would have lost. I don’t think we’ve had such a nail biter all year!”

“Not for the Harpies at least. With Weasley back, the vibe has changed.” Mothers tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. “Weasley has become such a staple in their lineup. Leading her team with -” He paused as a mane of red hair walked out of the Harpies tunnel. “Hold on now. Speak of the devil. Weasley has come back onto the field and -- yes! -- that's Potter exiting the Puddlemere pit.”

The two announcers watched the couple meet to the by the Puddlemere tunnel. “Every time these two play against each other, we get a lovely scene,” Gregory told the listeners.

“Our local hopeless romantic, folks.” Mothers chuckled fondly. “Wait… Hey, Dan, did you see that? The gold in Potter’s hand. Do you think he kept the snitch?” The average listener was able to hear Mothers shuffle things around. “My trusty pair of omnioculars.”

Mothers zoomed into the display before him, Potter and Weasley embracing. “It seems to be… No way!” He shoved the omnioculars into his partner’s hands. “Is that a ring?”

“Now who’s the hopeless romantic.” Gregory’s laughed, but accepted the proffered item. Five seconds passed before Gregory turned to look at Mothers. “That’s a ring. And Weasley has one too. Are we looking at the Potters?”  

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Molly Weasley considered herself a fair woman. She liked to think the punishments she’d given her children over the years had been just and appropriate.  And she’d never judged someone for something they couldn’t prevent.

But if that was true, why had her daughter (her only daughter!) gotten married without her? And then, why had her child let her find out about her nuptials through two quidditch announcers? What had she done to deserve such treatment?

Molly stared at the two guilty young adults. “Care to explain?”

“Mum,” Ginny started, but seemed unable to elaborate. She looked towards her husband. Husband! Molly’s daughter took a deep breath before starting again. “Mum. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.”

As much as Ginny had hoped that would placate her mother, those words had only rekindled her fire. With a voice both quiet and filled with rage, Molly began speaking. “Even if that was the case, why didn’t you come and tell me after? Why is that you’ve waited… how long was it?”

“Two months,” Harry muttered, not meeting her eyes.

She gave a sharp nod. “Two months. Two months my baby has been married. Not even Fred and George have done something so-” Molly couldn’t even think of a word.

It was Harry who chipped at her wall of anger. “I’m sorry, Molly. We should have told you.”

“Damn right you should have.” Molly pointed between the two. “I want to know everything, and don’t think for a second this means we won’t be having a wedding.”

Ginny exchanged a quick glance with Harry, as a smile slowly spread across her face. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mum.”

“Good.” Molly stood to go make a quick stew for dinner. “Now, Harry, go get your parents over here. We have some things to discuss.”

Once Molly walked out of the room, Ginny released a tense sigh. “That went better than I thought. But I’ve got to say, that quiet tone is much scarier than her yelling.”

Harry nodded fervently. “I thought she was going to skin us alive.” He looked down at his hand. “How could we forget to take off our rings before the game?”

Ginny shrugged. “We were kinda too busy with our… pre-match ritual... to think about jewelry.” She gave him a light push so he stood from the sofa they’d been sent to the moment they’d arrived.  “You best go fire-call the Potter brigade.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Such a lovely day for a wedding,” Arthur commented as he and Ginny stood by the back door of the Burrow. It had taken only a week for Molly and Lily to be satisfied with the wedding plans. The real challenge had been finding a date that worked for both families. That had taken a few months, but they’d finally found a day where everyone in the whole Weasley-Potter clan could be in attendance. In that time, Harry’s team had been able to clinch the championship title and Charlie’d filed all the paperwork to travel from Romania. And if you believed in serendipity (which honestly Ginny might because of this moment), they were having their wedding party on the day she had Harry had met just a few years ago.

Now after months of listening to her mother excitedly chatter about all the perfect placements and ideal seating charts, it had finally come to life -- and Ginny couldn’t help but feel a little more than grateful for the obsessive discussions between Lily and Molly. They really had created her dream wedding. Simple, yet elegant.

“You know,” Arthur mused, brushing a stray hair from Ginny’s face. “I always imagined this day differently.”

Ginny turned to her father. His face had a look that she only could describe as bittersweet. “What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, I didn’t think you’d already be married to the man I’d be giving you to.”

They both chuckled at his joke. Over the course of the last few months, the fact that Ginny and Harry (now called Hinny by the numerous articles penned about them) were already married had become a running gag between the two families. The only people who didn’t participate in the jokes were Molly and Lily, both of whom were still a little peeved at their children.

“What else?”

Arthur smiled at her. It was the same smile that he’d had when she had run up to him as a little girl, a frog clutched in her tiny fingers. She had been so happy with herself on that occasion and all she had wanted to do was show her findings to her dad.

“I’m so proud of you, Ginny.” He pulled her into a tight embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’ve grown into a remarkable young woman and I know you and Harry will continue to make each other happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, happiness.”

Ginny had promised herself one thing: That she wouldn’t be one of those brides who cried during her wedding. She was already married to the man for starters, also she hated tears. But Merlin, her father had gone and fucked up that plan.

“Don’t cry now.” Arthur held her at arm's length and moved his thumbs to brush at the slowly falling tears.

“I love you, Dad.” She moved closer to kiss his forehead. Taking a final deep breath, she forced herself to stop being sentimental (at least for a bit), and backed away just in time to see Bill approach them.

“Hey, you ready?” Bill smiled at her; he’d had inherited that smile from their father.

Ginny tucked her arm into Arthur’s, using her free hand to check for any stray tears. “More than ever.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“And we now would like to present, the not exactly newlyweds, but our couple of honor... Mr and Mrs Potter!” Lee Jordan, the twins’ friend from school, called out from his DJ perch.

The crowd laughed and clapped as Ginny took Harry by the hand and led him to the dance floor. Harry gave her a small grimace but took charge once she situated herself in his arms.

“I wish I didn’t have two left feet,” Harry complained as he swayed them to the gentle beat of their first song.

“Well, my two right feet make up for it.” Ginny leaned up and gave him a quick kiss, much to the delight of the people watching. It wasn’t a large group of people really. Just both their teams, their families and school friends (some of Harry’s had come all the way from America).

"Ah, the true linchpin of our marriage. Together, we make one passable dancer."

Ginny laughed and rested her head over Harry’s heart. Somehow the beat of the song matched the rhythm of his heart. Thud - thud - thud. She let the words wash over her as she used Harry as the bass drum.

When you say You love the way I make you feel Everything becomes so real Don't be scared, no, don't be scared 'Cause you're all I need

“This isn’t so bad, I guess.” Harry’s head had been resting atop her head and she  felt more than heard him speak.

“I would hope getting to hold your wife would be at least acceptable,” Ginny teased as she tilted her neck to look at him.

He was smiling in that way he reserved for only her. “Trust me, I always appreciate getting to hold my wife. I just appreciate what happens when I hold you in private a little more than dancing like a ponce in front of everyone.”

“Now, Mr Potter, don’t start talking about such naughty things when my mother is a mere fifteen yards away.”

That caused his smile to become a coquettish smirk. “Your mother being nearby has never stopped us before.”  

Ginny had to hold in her chuckle. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Harry.”

“Trust me, I have every intention of both of us finishing. You may even be able to take a second lap.”

This time she couldn’t contain herself. Ginny laughed and kissed her husband. “I love you.”

Harry’s hand came up and caressed her cheek, his eyes never wavering from hers. “Ditto.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Does this mean you’re taking a second honeymoon?” Max (one of Harry’s old school mates) asked, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. After a few bouts of dancing, the married couple decided to sit down and rest their much abused feet. They had already made rounds to thank guests and they’d eaten the perfectly-cooked meal Lily had selected. Now, they were sitting at the head table, joined by a bunch of friends.

“We never really had one the first time around,” Harry admitted as he took another bite from the most delicious cake he’d ever had. His mother really had outdone herself with the catering selection.

“Where are you guys going?” Neville, Ginny’s friend, questioned.

“I picked the island of Tenerife in Spain.” Ginny leaned closer to Harry and opened her mouth for a forkful. Harry rolled his eyes fondly before cutting her a large bite and presenting it. She patted his cheek in thanks and blissfully chewed her dessert.

“Oh, I’ve had reports of high numbers of Crumple-Horned Snorkack mating on the Canary Islands around this time of year.” Luna Lovegood watched them with a dreamy look that slightly alarmed Harry. No matter how many times he had talked with Luna, Harry was still surprised by the woman’s words and actions. “Are you going to join them?” Luna added serenely.

And somehow she’s topped herself, Harry thought. He exchanged looks with Max and Duncan. They both were biting their fists to hold in their laughter.

Ginny, however, took it in stride. “Maybe they’re gonna join us.”

Harry turned to his wife, unable to even think of words; his old school mates gave up trying to hold in their chuckles.

Luna nodded understandingly. “Yes, you would want to be the dominant species. Good thinking, Ginny.”

Neville just shook his head, used to the way his two friends worked. Harry blinked rapidly for a few moments before pulling his laughing wife to her feet and leading her to the dance floor.  

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“¿Quieres otra copa?” the waiter asked as Ginny sipped the last of her tinto de verano.

“Sí, por favor.” She handed him her empty cup and he walked away. Ginny took the opportunity to lean back in her sunbathing chair and look over at her nicely-tanned husband. His wide-brim hat was pulled over his face, shielding him from the Spanish sun.

Ginny reached across the almost nonexistent gap between them and started walking her fingers up his arm. She could feel the goose pimples rise as she made her way up to his shoulder. Moving her mouth next to his ear she murmured, “Hola, guapo.”

It took a moment for Harry to respond, but when he finally spoke, Ginny could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you flirting with me, señora Potter?”

“Sí, eres muy caliente.”

At the speed of lightning, Harry took off his hat and kissed her. “Te amo, mi amor.”

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 16: The World’s Last Hope, Maybe, Sorta

Part 15

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV, as we begin the second generation in earnest. Unlike in real life, this new generation may actually succeed in making the world a better place, though in fairness that’s partially because the last one left it in such a state there’s nowhere to go but up.

When we signed off, we had just met a pair of idiots and I allowed you to choose between them, because I’m a great guy like that.  You picked Johan, unanimously, for reasons varying from his superior speed growths, to his greater range of movement, to just hating Johalvier’s stupid face. All valid reasons!  So I’ll be picking him up ASAP, to prevent him from accidentally getting his dumb ass killed.  But first, as our turn begins, we have a new arrival to the battlefield…

And she’s blue, so I like her already. 

(A green-haired pegasus knight whose mount is named after Erin’s sister. I wonder who her mom is.)

(Arthur is a little less obvious since weird white hair is pretty common in this game, as Julia reminded us last week, but he’s Taillte and Lewyn’s son.)

Arthur: Er, right. Sorry about that. Say, Fee, I don’t have too far to go. If you want, I can just walk from here.

Fee: Where are you off to, anyway?

Arthur: Oh, just Alster.

Fee: A-Alster?! Geez, you’re dumber than I thought! Alster’s waaaay south of here. There’s an entire sea in the way, for crying out loud! I dunno what you’re thinking, but you haven’t a hope in heck of walking the rest of the way there!

Arthur: Eh, it’s fine. I’m hardly in a hurry.  

Fee: So, er, why do you need to go to Alster?

Arthur: Oh, see, I’ve got a sister I haven’t seen in years who might be there.

(… And yet, not in a hurry.)

Arthur: She and my mom were taken away when I was just a kid. I was sort of left alone in some far corner of Silesse or another.  I just heard a rumor, but at this point even a rumor’s enough if it means I might find her.  

Fee: Huh, really? You know, I know just what that’s like. My big brother’s been missing for ages.

Arthur:  Did you get separated from him as well?

Fee: Oh, no, nothing that bad. We’ve always lived together in Silesse, but awhile back he ran off to try and find our dad.  

Arthur: Your father, huh?

Fee: Yeah, he’s been missing for years. Mom spent the rest of her life waiting for him to come back, but he never did…

Arthur: What happened to her?

(Was the use of ‘the rest of her life’ too subtle for you, Captain Tact?)

Fee: She… she’s dead. Illness…

Arthur: Oh… sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought it up…

Fee: It’s okay! I mean, you’ve already brought up lots of things that you shouldn’t have.

(I think Fee and I will get along just fine.)

Fee: … Heh, kidding. You’re actually not that bad.

Arthur: Heh heh, thanks. And thanks for giving me a chance and letting me come along with you.

Fee: No problem! So was the sister thing real? Is that actually why you’re travelling?

Arthur: Yeah, it’s real. But what about you? What’s your deal?

Fee: Actually, I kinda want to join that Isaachian rebel army.  

(And I want more flying units, so we’re both in a good place. Welcome to the team, Fee!  Don’t stand too close to Larcei if you don’t want to get coated in the blood of her victims.)  

Fee: When I was little, mom told me stories about the paladin Sigurd and his brave allies, and those have always meant a lot to me. Lately I’ve been hearing about how Sigurd’s son is somewhere in Isaach, raising a revolution. And it all just sort of clicked, y’know? I knew that’s where I need to be, s oI just ran right out of home to try and find him.

Arthur: Wow… that’s pretty great of you. Y’know, I think I’ll help you out here for a while. It’s the least I can do for you putting up with me.

Fee: Okay! Partners it is, then. Good luck out there… partner!

Arthur: Heh! Upbeat as ever, aren’t you?

And with that, we round out our team for the second generation’s first chapter, except for Johan, who isn’t recruited yet and also doesn’t count.  Let’s take a look at what we got.  

First, Julia, the mysterious priestess whose identity could be anyone. She might be a random person from anywhere in the entire world. There’s no way to tell who she is.  It’s a total, unabashed, impossible mystery to sol-

Oh, she has Major Naga and Minor Vala Holy Blood, so she’s Deirdre and Arvis’s kid.  Yeah, honestly, it’s kind of like the developers forgot you can just look at the stat screens to find out a general idea of these character’s parents.  They really try to play up Julia’s identity as a mystery, but there’s literally only one person she could be.  Notice, however, that she doesn’t have Loptyr blood. Now there’s a mystery for ya…

In terms of her utility as a character, meanwhile, Julia is excellent. Blows her mom out of the water, thanks to inheriting Adept and Pursuit from her shitty father and having a generally better base stats and superior growths; in particular, thanks to her two Holy Bloods adding to her already naturally huge Magic growth from Deirdre, she actually comes to a magic growth of 100%.  She will always get a magic point when leveling up, so by the end of the game she will be a goddamn magic cannon. Her weak points will be her Defense and Speed, the former of which is partially offset by the fact she actually has a remarkably high HP growth as well.  

However, none of this matters right now because she starts off without any weapons.  Don’t worry, that will change soon enough.  Oh, and while we’re here…  

Lana: You know, Lord Seliph’s actually really been worrying about you.  

(PLATONICALLY!  He has been PLATONICALLY worrying about his HALF-SISTER.)

Lana: If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know and I’ll get right on it.  

Julia: Mm. Thank you…

Lana: Oh, and I’ve got a little something for you.

Julia: This is… a Mend staff?

Lana: You can use these, right?

Julia: For me? Thank you, Lana. With this… I know I can help everyone.

Lana: You’re welcome, Julia. Let’s give this our all, together!

D’aaaaaaaaaw. Shame this game was released like twenty years before it was socially acceptable to admit lesbians existed, because I ship Lana/Julia now.  And not just because I want to make absolutely sure the latter cannot ever accidentally marry her brother.

Next up, Fee.  

Like her mom before her, Fee is just generally solid.  Her base stats mark her as a speedster, but her defense, resistance, and strength are all set at 8 when she’s only level 2, so she isn’t fragile or weak by any means; if she follows in Erin’s footsteps and gets lucky on the Defense growths, only archers will ever really be a threat to her. My hope is that by giving her Azel as a dad means she’ll also get a solid Magic growth (+30% from his Minor Vala Blood!) and will become sort of a flying artillery piece wielding all our magic swords to rain death on the enemy from above.  This is kind of experimental, I admit. But on the plus side, even if that doesn’t work out, just ‘a second Erin’ is still plenty fine by me. Erin was cool beans.

And finally, Arthur.  

Hehehehehe…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…                                      

HAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

*deep breath*

Arthur is invincible. He has Forseti and he’s invincible.  I mean his growths and all that shit are great too, he’s essentially Lewyn 2.0 with all the latest upgrade software, but really, that’s the summary. He’s got Forseti, and for the purposes of this map he is invincible. It’s going to be two more chapters before we fight anything that can lay a finger on him while he’s wielding that monster.

This isn’t the only reason I married Lewyn and Taillte. But it certainly is a big one.

Now then. Like a moron, I accidentally moved Lana and Julia too far forward to have them chat with each other. They’re in the range of Johan’s army. So I have the rest of the team form a perimeter while Larcei and Seliph run their butts off to join in.  Arthur starts moving toward the castle to remove the current owner, and Fee moves to the village nearest her starting point to take a swing at the bandit there…

Did you just get hit on a 21% chance? And I was just talking up how good you are! *sigh* End turn. Johan’s army takes their swing at us…

…. That was pathetic!  Only Ulster dodged any of that, and not nearly enough for my tastes considering he almost died anyway.  What happened, kids?! You were rocking last week! Sigh. Okay. Okay. Let’s try and salvage this…

…. Yes, that’s a good start.

FEE! WHAT THE SHIT, LADY?!

Oh, that doesn’t count, Arthur. You’re holding a universal cheat code.

Now, I have the remaining characters form a line that will force Johan’s axe men to take a long, weird path to get to anyone who can’t fight back. With luck this means nobody will get attacked more than once.  Honestly, at this point, I’m mostly afraid Johan will hit someone who can really fight back and get his dumb ass killed; that would be embarrassing to get a reset over someone who technically isn’t even my ally. Larcei is in his range, though… hopefully he will talk to her, rather than try to axe her. End turn…

Oh, and Johalvier’s douches have been moving toward us too, because I can’t have nice things .

Oifey can’t actually one-shot these guys normally. He procced Critical on this one because he’s a killstealing old bastard.

…. Why have you people decided to stop dodging…?

This may… go badly.

… And of course we’re in a situation where I need Oifey to both dodge (it’s only a 30% chance to hit but he hasn’t been performing lately) and not hit back too hard. Fucking grand.

OIFEY YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD, I LOVE YOU.

Now. NOW.  First, Julia heals Oifey and I send him a space up to let Larcei run in.

(No, he’s just an idiot.)

Johan: Larcei… oh Larcei! Your words are as the sweetest birdsong! Your eyes are as the most brilliant stars! Oh, without you at my side, what purpose is there in life? What joy could possibly be?

Larcei: Stop it! How revolting! This is a battlefield! Are you out of your mind?!

Johan: I can deny my heart no longer, Larcei. Believe me when I say I’ve tried! Alas, love is a maddening beast at times…. What else can I do but be at your side? Men, we are joining the liberation army! From this day on, we are men of honor! Fight on in the name of justice, love, and Larcei!

Well. At least he’s enthusiastic.

At this, Johan joins the army and his units all become neutral, friendly to us and hostile to Johalvier’s army.  They’re also all heavily wounded, so they’re mostly just going to die, but at least they’ll take some fire off us for one turn.  

(… Did he, though?)

Johalvier: Bet he’s gone and sided with her army ,too. That weak-willed fool…

(Okay, that he definitely did.)

Johalvier: Hmph… fine by me! Men, attack! Johan’s unit is now the enemy!

And seeing this declaration of war by his brother and rival, Johan runs away to Lana for healing so he doesn’t get totally destroyed.  

End turn!

(I’m actually going for the other one, thanks.)

*sniff* Oh, milord Seliph, you are truly on the path to surpass your father. Seriously. I don’t think he got a level that good in his entire half of the game, and it’s like your third so far in just your first map.  I’ve never seen Seliph get off to a start this strong, and if he keeps it up he’ll be a walking nuclear war when he promotes.  

I’m a little nervous now. What if he’s building me up so he can let me down later?  I’ve been hurt before.

Dannan: Schmidt! Get out there! Take back my castles, now!

Schmidt: Yes, sir! You can depend on me!

(“No way I’m just a one-chapter flunky boss! No way, not ol’ Schmidty!  Schmidt, that’s the name of a Big Bad right there! I bet I’m really Super-Loptyr in disguise!”)

Anyhow, when Johan joined his castle became neutral to us, and Schmidt is gonna go take it.  That’s actually a very good thing, so I’m going to let him do that while we finish off Johalvier’s goons.  

… Or they finish us off. 4% chance to hit and he popped ya one right in the jaw, Larcei? Seriously? You’re lucky I have two healers now.

And of course, what’s life without a little bit of killing your brother?

That’s the end of the interesting; Arthur is still walking toward a village, and Fee takes a distance shot at a bandit with her Bolt Sword but doesn’t kill him.  End turn.

I should be happy that Johan dodged on an 87% chance to be hit, but frankly I’m just more angry at the others now.  

Awesome. With that, there’s only one member of the Sophara army left. First, I have Fee and Arthur clear out the villages they’re near;

And Fee liberates hers.

Neat. Now it’s just a matter of wiping out the last of Johalvier’s soldiers:

And the army begins to move south. There’s one more village to clear out, and we have to be ready to take back Isaach after Schmidt takes it.  

Again: We want this to happen. There are two castles, and we want Isaach.  You want Isaach to fall so you can take it back, or you want to recruit Johalvier so it’s hostile from the start. You do not want to take Sophara. DO NOT.  

I’m not joking.

This is super important.

Pick it up, you losers.  

The team just spends another turn moving south, while Arthur liberates a village.

Isn’t This the Same Guy From the Last Village: Well, those imperial sods won’t stand a chance at all! Every last one of them will be run right out of our great land!

Sure thing. End turn!

*sigh* They all have hand axes, so this is actually going to take them awhile. It’s okay, that gives us time to set up a defensive line. Lester, meanwhile, clears and liberates a village.

Best Girl: I bet we’d all have a much better time with him on the throne if that were true, huh? Here, take this here skill ring. Go on, do your best! We’re all behind you!

Sweet. Bows are one of the more inaccurate weapons in the game, so more skill for Lester is quite welcome. Plus, Fee gets close enough to chat with Seliph finally.

Fee: Call me Fee! I’m from Silesse.

Seliph: Silesse, you say? Are you a pegasus knight, then?

(She’s literally riding a pegasus and holding a sword, man.)

Fee: Er, not just yet. I’m kinda still in training. My mom was one, though! Actually, in the big war years ago, she helped Lord Sigurd out in his army.

Seliph: Is that so? She has my utmost gratitude on my father’s behalf. Now, what brings you here, Fee?

Fee: See, what happened was I was looking for my brother, who ran away ages ago. But then I heard about you, sir, and how you’re taking on the Empire! And I just knew I had to be here too. Can I join your army, sir? Please?

Seliph: Certainly! Thank you. What of your brother, though?

Fee: It’s silly, sir, but I have this feeling we’ll run into him somewhere down the line.

(“Foreshadowing, sir.”)

Not much to show other than that. Arthur starts slooooowly moving toward the rest of the team, and Julia gains her first level from healing.

…. Remember when I said Deirdre wasn’t very good and then she got a bunch of great levels to spite me? I’m kind of scared Julia’s decided to do the opposite as some teenage rebellion against her mom’s legacy.

To the south, the Schmidtmeister finally takes Isaach, and his army starts moving north toward us, which suits me just fine.  I ain’t in no rush, yo. In fact, I’ll just wait a few turns in my fine defensive formation while Arthur runs toward us. Come at us when you’re ready, losers.  

Four turns later, the first of them arrives, alone, and misses.

Fear the wrath of the Schmidtritter.

Now, these guys totally suck with one exception. Schmidt himself is fairly badass, and there’s a reason for that:

BITCH HAS LEX’S BRAVE AXE! Remember when I said the items from people who didn’t pass them on to kids will show up later? Well, it’s later.  I think we can all agree this cannot stand, out of honor to Lex and also I want that axe back.  But, of course, that means killing him with an axe dude. And we only have one of those. So for Johan to not disappoint us, I think we need to soften him up first.  Lester?

(Well, looks like somebody thinks he’s hot Schmidt.)

Hm. Okay performance, and an average level. At least it was better than his first level.  But seriously, man, your dad was beating you out by this point. That’s sad. And I’m not entirely sure Schmidt will die to a single hit from Johan, so I send in another helper to soften him up further.

Not bad! Defense is definitely great for her, and her Luck is pretty abysmal too, so combined I’m not displeased with this showing.  Johan?

…. Oh hey, Johan missed on an 80% chance to hit, and died to the counterattack.

If I hadn’t promised to do a no-death run I would leave his corpse rotting in the sunny plains of Isaach.  Reset.

Luckily this was the start of our turn, so I can screw around the RNG a little by moving people in different orders.  This even has the benefit of changing the levels we gain:

And hey, not terrible. Fee’s is actually unambiguously better, and Lester’s is  about equal.  And I also, because I’m not a total moron, remember to park Dermott near the front lines where his Charisma skill can amp up Johan’s accuracy.  Okay, big guy, care to give it another go?

Much better. The Brave Axe alone turns him from the worst unit in the army to the like, second or third worst. And now, with the enemy exposed and bereft of their leader, His Lordship takes the front lines.

… Okay, I mean, not very dramatic, woulda been cooler if you’d slain your enemy, but you didn’t get hit. I’ll take it. End turn!

Fortunately, Hand Axes are not super accurate.  And in this chokepoint, most of them can’t even reach us. A few errant swings later, we are up to bat again.

You know, it’s kind of telling that they’re all getting levels I would have been perfectly happy to see in their parents, and yet I’m still somehow disappointed. We’ve barely started this generation and I’m already spoiled.

End turn. I suppose. The enemy… erm…

Well, they all go after Oifey, and they cannot hit him.  Note their chance to hit. It’s zero.  So… I’m not sure what’s up there. Let’s… let’s just finish this up.

See? You can do it if you try, Lester! Now, the map is basically over. I basically just hang out awhile, letting Arthur finally catch up for his own talk with Seliph.  

Arthur: The name’s Arthur. I came here from Silesse.

Seliph: Wait, so you are that Arthur fellow? I’ve heard of how you have been aiding us so far. Thank you so much!

(“I heard you defeated two enemies and then spent the rest of the map slowly walking. My deepest gratitude!”)

Arthur: Eh, it was no big deal.

Seliph: You are capable of wielding magic, yes? That’s truly impressive. I’m almost envious!

Arthur: My mother was a talented war-mage…but I’ve still got a lot to learn, myself.  

Seliph: We all do, do we not? So long as we all fight together, though, perhaps we still truly can change our world. After all, that’s what brought us here today.

Arthur: Yeah… you’re right. My power’s at your disposal, sir. I’ll give my all to aid the cause. I’m glad we could finally meet, Lord Seliph.  

And then have Seliph finally run up and re-take Isaach.  

Info Master: Indeed, and ecstatic to see you to boot! Thanks to you, Lord Seliphk we know that at long last, Isaach shall have its freedom!

Seliph: Thank you, sir, but the effort isn’t mine along. I could never have come so far without the support of the common man.  

(If you call them ‘the common man’, you may be a bit of a classist. Maybe try to work on that, Selly.)

Seliph: You’ve all supported me from the beginning. I likely wouldn’t be here if not for you!

Info Master: Fate is a funny thing, isn’t it, sir? Just twenty years ago, our late king had the utmost trust in your grandfather’s wisdom. Then your father came to protect Prince Shanan, and now the prince has guided you to adulthood. Perhaps fate has bound Isaach and Chalphy as one…

Seliph: Isaach is the only home I’ve ever known, and Prince Shanan is like a brother to me.  I pray our friendship lasts the rest of our lives.

Info Master: Lord Seliph, you are the rightful heir to House Belhalla and the throne of Grannvale.  Not a soul alive in Isaach, nor in the rest of the world, can doubt this. We beg of you! Raise the banner of justice high, march on Belhalla, and reclaim your true throne!

(“Well, sort of. I don’t think you actually have the right magic blood. But it’s not like you’re going to run into any waifs who should be doing the job instead!”)

Now. You may be wondering why I was so adamant we take Isaach when there was another castle off to the west we could have been going after.  And the answer is: Julia can now have a conversation with Seliph. Let’s see that.

Seliph: Actually, I have something for you. I found this in Isaach castle.

Julia: What is…?

Seliph: It’s a light magic tome called Nosferatu.  You can wield these, yes?

Julia: Yes… I’m able to use light magic.

Seliph: Excellent! Hopefully you’ll now have an easier time protecting yourself in combat.

Julia: Thank you, Lord Seliph… thank you so much…

And with that, Julia gets a weapon! The only one she will ever need, even! See (and of course the game doesn’t tell you this), which castle you take alters what weapon she gets. If you take Johalvier’s castle, Sophara, you get her Deirdre’s old Aura tome. You might remember Aura as being very powerful, but also very heavy and largely useless.  As for Nosferatu, it isn’t as strong, but it’s considerably lighter and with Julia’s excellent magic and (unlike Deirdre) access to Pursuit for double attacking, she’ll still be doing enough damage to take out most anything she fights.

Oh, and any damage it does to an enemy, she absorbs to heal herself. 

That’s right: the mysterious waif just became a tank.  

Now, all that’s left to do is kill Dannan. And he, like Chagall before him, forgot to bring a ranged weapon to the party. So I take a little time, liberate a village, and wait to feed him to the suddenly unstoppable Julia. Village?

Grim Gritty Girl: Thanks to you lot, Isaach’s free from the Empire at last, but the rest of the world’s still in a very dark place… all across Jugdral, they’re waiting for you to rise up and defeat the Empire! Please, I’m begging you… you’ve gotta make it to Grannvale soon!

Neat. Lana gains a level, too!

Well, not up to her mom’s exacting standards, but she’s already gotten more magic than Ethlyn ever did. I’ll allow it. And now, time for Julia’s first murder and the end of the map.

(Bitch, she’s your princess. The game hasn’t said it yet, but we know she is. Show some respect.)

And in one round of combat, she almost completely destroys him (she did proc Adept, so she hit him three times instead of two), and gains a big-person level. So far, so good. One more turn should do it!

Welcome to the team, Julia. You’re not really one of us until you’ve killed a sentient being.  (I know that Lana hasn’t killed anyone on screen, but we all know what she gets up to at night.) Seliph drops in on Rivough Castle, and we’re all set.

(You can go home, Lewyn. We have your book, and that’s all we need from you.)

Lewyn: Yeah… I only just got back now. Look, Seliph, are you aware that right now, the world’s at a critical turning point?

Seliph: Hm? No… I’m afraid not.  

(Teenagers don’t follow the news, Lewyn.)

Lewyn: It’s been fifteen years since Arvis conquered Jugdral and united it as the Grannvale Empire. Honestly, for awhile at first it wasn’t all that bad. In the empire’s dawn, Emperor Arvis sought to bind his nation using only the strictures of law. It was strict and constraining, but we got a few good years of peace out of it. But obviously he changed his mind. A few years back, as if by magic, the Empire turned into that oppressive force we all know and love today. Even worse… the ancient heretics of the Loptyr Order have arisen from the shadows once more and raised influence across the land. Their murderous rituals have returned with them, and all across Jugdral they abduct children to sacrifice in droves to resurrect their fell god. All attempts to resist are crushed and met with brutal executions or enslavement. It couldn’t be more plain that they seek to return Jugdral to the days of that ancient abomination, the Loptyr Empire.

Seliph: This cannot be happening! I’ve heard rumors saying the same, but… never did I think they could be more than mere rumor…

Lewyn: By the look of it, Isaach hasn’t had it quite as bad as most. Dannan’s two sons, at least, refused to follow through on the child hunts. And of course there’s been people trying to rebel against the Empire left, right, and center, but they were all scattered and disorganized.  Before you, none have ever posed a proper threat. They were all swiftly crushed before they could so much as blink. Jugdral needs a savior. It needs a man to unite behind. And I’m sure that man is you, Seliph. You’re the only one who stands a chance.

Seliph: Hold on a moment! Are you sure of this? A savior would require power that I sorely lack…

Lewyn: Chalk it up to duty, Seliph. You’re the eldest child of Empress Deirdre. That makes you the elder brother to Crown Prince Julius.

(“And the fact that the prince is named Julius should not suggest in any way that Julia is connected to the royal family. Er, you haven’t checked her stat screens, right?”)

Lewyn: You’re the one true heir to Saint Heim. Your destiny is to unite the power of the Crusaders of this era and free the world from evil’s grip.

Seliph: But I...

Lewyn: Trust me, you really do have what it takes. Your true power and potential sleeps within you. That is, the sacred blood of the Crusader Baldur. Once you get your holy blade, Tyrfing, not even the heavens will be able to stand in your way!

Seliph: But I-

Lewyn: Sorry, Seliph, but that’s how the gods will it.

(I hate to take Lewyn’s side on this, Seliph, but if you really didn’t want to free the world, you shouldn’t have let him talk over you so much.)

Lewyn: You’re Sigurd’s son. The son of a man who fate led to a brutal end. The fulfillment of his dying wishes and his final quest falls to you.

(Pretty sure his final wish was to just not be burned to death.)

Lewyn: You can’t afford to doubt yourself now. You understand, Seliph?

Seliph: Y-yes… yes. I do. If this is fate and the will of the gods, then so be it. I will do my duty.

Lewyn: There actually isn’t a single absolute fate, nor is there just one person it all hinges upon.

(THEN WHY’D YOU GO ON ABOUT IT FOR TWENTY MINUTES JUST NOW?!)

Lewyn: As obtuse as that sounds, trust me, one day it’ll make sense.

(LIAR.)

Lewyn: Sigurd left behind so much to help you on your quest.

(“Though not the really good sword.”)

Lewyn: Most importantly, the many friendships he forged in his life. Me, for instance.

(GO AWAY.)

Lewyn: Brave youths from all over are already lining up to join your cause, all guided by Sigurd’s kindness.

Seliph: My father won the love and trust of so many people, from all walks of life. I can only pray that in time I’ll prove worthy of his legacy.

Lewyn: You’ll be fine. Anyway, to business. Our immediate goal is to reach Leonster. The son of Quan, your father’s closest friend, raised his own rebellion only to suffer severe losses. He’s in pretty urgent need of backup. I know you’ve had no time to rest, but we need to get going as soon as possible.

(Wait, weren’t you just there? You… you didn’t help? You ran down, explicitly didn’t help, and then ran back here to make me do it for you? Dick.)

Lewyn: For now, at least, we can leave Isaach in the care of its citizens. Odds are we’ll run into Prince Shanan on our way.

(Wait, I thought Shanan was off in the middle of the Yied Desert…… fuck it’s going to be a sand map, isn’t it. We’re going to a sand map.)

Seliph: Understood!

And that’s that. First map done, and now we’re off to Leonster to meet Quan’s son Leif (you may recall him being mentioned by name a few times back when he was an infant. He’s beefed up somewhat since then, thankfully) for what is definitely going to feel like an eternity.

See you next week in… *sigh* in the Yied Desert. Again. 

Resets: Up to an even 20. Johan’s intro to our army has not been the best.

Part 17

[gallifreyanlibertea]

Oh Captain, My Captain

a/n: THIS IS MY LAST OUT-OF-THE-BLUE AIRPORT AU I SWEAR I’ll get back to the requests and the usuk network event asap so sorry, I was on an airplane back home and this happened. Full offense but idc if this is shitty or if there are inaccuracies in this, I’ve never researched this much. Ever. 

You can pry lovesick! Alfred out of my cold, dead hands.

“The nerve of the woman, honestly.”

Arthur felt absolutely no remorse in monopolizing the conversation.

After all, every flight brought the worst of all things, and as always, they seemed to happen to only and exclusively him. At this point, he had the God-given right to spend however much time he wanted, out of his miserable day, to bitch, whine and complain.

And Francis couldn't do anything about it.

“The bloody hell am I to do if the air conditioner isn't as cold as she’d like it to be?” Arthur scoffed, loosening the ribbon tied around his neck as shoes clacked ferociously in tandem with his long-striding movements. The almost-empty airport’s tiled floors dramatized the otherwise gentle noise and Arthur decided it was fitting. “Or if the peanuts weren't as salted as she'd like, or if the damn toilet was too loud, I'm not omnipotent.”

Francis, on the verge of rolling his eyes, struggled to match his coworker’s pace. “Yes, we get it, your life is hard.”

“You don't get to be annoyed with me, Francis.”

It was true. Francis could do absolutely nothing about it. Their pay was shitty- for the most part, at least- the in-flight company was hardly to be envied, and to top it off, Arthur was considerably less attractive than his other coworkers. Where they were slim, he was lanky, where they had a full, perky butt, he had, well, not that. 

So yes, he had every right to shout into oblivion because somehow, with all the luck in the world, he seemed to attract the most despicable of passengers. Every single time. Every whining adult who thought they deserved much more than the flight had to offer, every edgy teenager who thought they could swipe a free snack off his cart when Arthur wasn't looking, every person who'd call on him expecting a magic cure to their ear barotrauma.

The worst part being that Arthur had to smile through it all. So damn it all, he could be angry, and Francis couldn't protest because he was, although Arthur didn't admit it easily, a beautiful man. Things came easily to him, and it was so bloody unfair.

And all Arthur wanted to right then was to sleep in his own home, curled up under his own sheets, with all that infernal makeup scrubbed off his skin.

“I suppose you're correct there, mon ami.” Francis reached out to grab Arthur by the shoulder, bringing him down to his slower pace, “But did I tell you about those cheerleaders on the fifth row?”

Francis’s lips spread in a triumphant smirk, proving Arthur’s point. “Got a list of the numbers of their whole squad.”

Arthur suppressed a frustrated growl. “Of course, you did.”

“I heard you got a number too.” A snicker and Arthur glared holes into those teasing blue eyes. “To pass on to me, that is. I’ll be calling him tonight, so I suppose I have you to thank.”

Arthur didn't, however, suppress a fierce stomp onto Francis’ foot.

“Would you two at least behave until we get to our hotels?”

And if the flight-attendant life wasn’t glorious enough, the older attendants liked to pretend they had some kind of authority. Of course, Arthur and Francis liked to let them believe that they did. It made it easier to hate them.

As soon as the older woman left, looking over her shoulder only to shoot them a warning look like either of them cared, Francis ran a finger along the inside of the ribbon looped around his neck.

“I see that screwing the passenger in 15A wasn't enough to dislodge that stick up her ass.”

“She did what.”

Arthur was a respectable, courteous, gentleman of a man yet it was gossip like this that made hours bottled up on a flying torture chamber bearable. He supposed that's how he and Francis just clicked, despite hating almost every aspect of each other.

“Didn’t you hear it? The whole rear of the plane did.” Francis muttered nonchalantly, to which Arthur replied with a snort.

“Well, I’m glad I was on the other half.”

Loud laughter. It was despicable really, the things they said, but it passed the time and that somehow made it temporarily okay.

Arthur cleared his throat, averting his eyes from the ones of the clearly annoyed attendants in front of them. “We really should be a bit quiet, Francis, people are looking.”

“Oh, people are indeed looking,” Francis smirked in response, patting Arthur on the shoulder almost patronizingly, eyes cast over Arthur’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I think the new captain is making eyes at me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, footsteps coming to a stop as he came to cross his arms, falling into a makeshift line by an empty lot meant for the cabin crew’s bus to their hotel.

Layovers meant one thing and one thing only- Rejecting Francis’ every offer to drink until they forgot their last name, and holing himself up in his less than enjoyable hotel room, catching up on his online novel before eventually falling asleep. Perhaps this time would be different. Arthur had already agreed to a small drink and an even smaller stroll, but who knew? Francis was fickle if anything, and judging by the way he was looking at their flight captain, he might not have enough time to entertain Arthur for the evening.

“I could eat him up faster than a platter of fine cheeses.”

Arthur spared a faint glance beside him, finding their brand new captain in shallow conversation with the copilot.

There was no denying Francis’ attraction. He was rather attractive, actually. The way his shirt was so tight around the sharp contours of his body, that Hollywood-heartthrob way his hair swept across his forehead. Not to mention Arthur’s secret craving for men in glasses. Or men in uniform, or honestly just men.

And that, right there! That was definitely a look back in their direction. No matter how quickly the man looked away, or how he immediately laughed aloud as if he'd never diverted his attention, Arthur had caught him and if Francis wasn't standing in such a close vicinity, Arthur might’ve thought the look was aimed at him.

Hah, him. Arthur Kirkland. A bitter air host whose most appealing features were his slightly-elven looking ears. Yes, definitely.

Arthur scoffed. “The man is clearly straight, he probably thinks you're a woman.”

“I'd be whatever he wanted me to be.”

The comment rose a hearty chuckle out of Arthur before Francis slapped him on the forearm, eyes wild. “Shut up, he's coming.”

And indeed he was. A slow, shy walk in their direction, boyish smile painted on those adult features. Arthur stepped aside for the man’s convenience as he headed toward Francis, possibly to make a few passes, ask him out for a drink, the whole three-sixty, it was tiring really. He would watch as Francis did the same exact thing once more. Playing coy, then going naughty.

Arthur had already begun selecting what title he would begin reading for the night.

“Bonjour!”

Ah, so it would be this routine tonight. Francis would begin with a phrase in French, to which the victim would respond with a-

“Oh! You're French?”

Right on schedule. The captain had made his way between them. He was an American, it seemed, making him quite possibly dumb enough to fall for Francis’ next line.

“Oh, sorry, sometimes I forget I'm talking in my native language.”

No, he rarely ever did. Arthur rolled his eyes and Francis glared through his smile.

“That's so cool.” The American gushed, “I speak fluent Spanish so I kinda get what you mean!”

Fluent Spanish, oh dear. Arthur couldn’t help wondering what hearing it whispered passionately in his ear would sound like.

Like that would ever happen.

“Spanish, a Romance language,” Francis smirked and the American smiled abashedly in response, accepting the hand offered to him in a firm shake. “My name is Francis. What brings you over to our side of the bus stop, hm?”

“I'm Alfred,” Alfred said and Arthur couldn't help but find it fitting. A name as unusual as the chances of finding a hot pilot. “And actually, I-”

A soft touch to Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur found himself slightly recoiling, eyes glancing up from their position fixed at his feet to find Alfred smiling rather warmly right down at him.

“I just wanted to say, your eyes are the greenest I've ever seen.”

Alfred punctuated this with a light laugh and Arthur merely blinked. Francis mirrored the expression, and Arthur found himself shifting away.

This could not be happening. He had to have conjured the whole thing in his head. A cruel ending to an already grueling day.

“Less than a percent of the population has green eyes, so-” He found himself sweeping a lock of hair behind his ear, eyes traveling back down to the pavement- “I suppose I, um, understand your fascination.”

“I expected that English accent!”

Another laugh and Arthur threw a look in Francis’ direction. One of confusion, one that Francis threw back with an intensity ten times greater.

Was this Alfred fellow chatting him up?

“You have a very British structure, if anyone's told you.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Arthur managed a polite smile. Francis now stood in Alfred’s shadow, watching incredulously the captain stepped closer, closing the gap Arthur had created with his shift away.

“You should.”

Oh, my.

The bus rolled into view and Arthur pushed away with a shy smile, joining Francis in their hurried scramble aboard, settling in the back almost as if hiding from that charming smile.

“Arthur, he wants you.”  Francis cooed singsonged-ly.

“Shut up.” Was Arthur’s hissed response before he sank deeper into his seat, peering over the side to watch as Alfred climbed aboard, and to Arthur’s relief, found a seat somewhere in the front.

The goosebumps dotting his arms were hardly from the bus’ air conditioner.

“Leave it to young pilots to grab the first air host they see.”

“And here I was, thinking I'd be the one getting lucky tonight.” Francis thought aloud, head shaking.  

“I'm never lucky,” Arthur mumbled in response.

No, things like this rarely happened to him, and it was a good thing too. Despite always whining about the lack of attention people paid him, it was situations like these that told him just how uncomfortable he would be if he'd lived a better life. Arthur, therefore, appreciated his irrelevance, embraced his mediocre looks.

And ran as fast as humanly possible from anyone who looked at him twice.

“I never got your name, you know?”

Alfred was waiting for him as they departed the bus.

You’d think after a moderately-long bus ride, that infatuation of Alfred’s, or whatever it was that swam in those blue eyes, would’ve simmered away with the realization that there were other flight attendants who could give him exactly what he wanted without any hesitation whatsoever.

No, Alfred stood waiting, with eyes expectant behind the frames of those square glasses, and Arthur found himself craving back that bad luck of his. The luck that would have him attracted to a married man, or someone painfully straight. The luck that would have them anything but attracted back to him.

The luck that would have Alfred already checking himself into his room and not leaning against the side of the bus with that infernal smile on his face.  

“Arthur.”

“It’s a regal name,” Alfred remarked and Arthur shot a pleading look in Francis’ direction. “So, tell me how the cabin crew goes wild. What are you doing tonight?”

Arthur parted his lips for words, finding that he’d long forgotten his language, and Francis stepped in to rescue him, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder with a laugh. “Oh, Arthur is rather boring, actually. If you want fun I suggest the other two attendants.”

Francis leaned forward to whisper and Alfred mirrored the action unwittingly, expression inquisitive.

“I heard they did body shots on the last layover.”

“Oh jeez!” The look on Alfred’s face was akin to a child coming across a mature scene in a film. His cheeks went rosy, finger pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That's, um, no. I didn't mean to give out the wrong idea, I'm definitely not looking for that type of wild.”

Arthur shot Francis a look to which he responded with a shrug.

And Alfred was blissfully unaware, gazing at Arthur as if he were Alfred's husband returning home from the war. “It's just us mild folk here, I guess. I can't drink before a flight so I might as well hang out with you guys!”

“Actually, I was going to grab a drink,” Arthur interjected, to which Francis hastily followed up with a-

“Yes, we were doing just that.”

“Great! A little drink never hurt anyone, I'll pay for a round!”

Oh dear, Alfred wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

The fact became increasingly evident as the evening progressed. How Alfred stood directly behind as Arthur checked in, how he tossed shy glances in Arthur’s direction as he himself checked in after telling them to wait for him.

“Can I see some I.D., sir?”

Alfred smiled in Arthur’s direction and after a rough shove to Arthur’s shoulder, courtesy of an annoyed Francis, he sent a smile back. One that had Alfred beaming, oblivious to the unentertained man behind the hotel desk.

“Sir!”

“Oh! Yes, give me just a minute, sorry.”

A card was slapped onto the counter before Alfred turned to look over his shoulder yet again, an embarrassed smile on his face, as if afraid Arthur would run away.

“I’ll just go take a quick look at my room and meet you at the bar?”

It was a simple solution that would facilitate the check-in, Arthur thought. Alfred nodded furiously, yet instead of turning back to continue the process like Arthur had assumed, he watched as the elevator doors closed around Arthur, every second of it, that smile beaming on his face the entire time.

Francis snickered, “Wow.”

Arthur blinked, hands smoothing over his suddenly, goosebumped-yet-again arms, deciding that an original response had no place in their current situation. “Wow indeed.”

“Want to stand him up?”

Any sane person would. The transition between no attention to all the attention was quite reeling, and Arthur, if anything, wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone in his room.

Yet still, he found himself at the hotel bar, taking the seat directly next to Alfred despite the empty ones anywhere else.

Francis watched slyly as Alfred sat one hand gripping the back side of Arthur's stool, the glass of wine in him tinting his cheeks a healthy red.

“Y’know, the flight attendant uniforms are so cute.”

Alfred’s free hand set his glass down atop the table, running a finger along the ribbon on the back of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur inhaled rather sharply, ignoring the look Francis gave him, with those eyes wide, lips twisted up in a knowing smirk. “Well, that is our job, to look pleasing to the eye and keep passengers calm.”

“I can’t even imagine how harder your job would be, Captain,” Francis said and Alfred practically giggled, arm flexing and wow those were some defined biceps coming out of that short-sleeved aviator shirt.

“It took me years of training, you, uh-”

Alfred leaned closer to Arthur and Arthur didn’t know if it was the courage from the alcohol or just the confidence he seemed to carry on those broad shoulders that brought that hand of his up to grip Arthur’s bicep- “You should come down to the cockpit one day, and I’ll show you just how hard it can be.”

He invited Arthur to touch his bicep with a little wink and Arthur hesitantly obliged, finding that it was harder to stop running his fingers over the tanned swell of that arm than it was to start.

He forced his hands back into his lap with a clear of his throat, “That training of yours is quite evident.”

Francis’ eyes bounced back and forth between the two. At Alfred, who seemed to be very interested in the shade of red Arthur’s cheeks were turning, and at Arthur, who averted his eyes, anywhere, everywhere, oh god.

“I’m going to go get myself another drink in my room,” Francis said almost defeatedly, shooting Arthur a warning, I better not have left for nothing look and Alfred gave him a wide grin as a parting gift, turning to the host under his arm with an expression even brighter when Francis was well out of sight.

“Why don’t you give me a personal cabin safety demonstration?” He mimicked the two fingered pointing and Arthur found himself smiling. Just a little. “Shall we take the nearest exit?”

Hell, it was a layover.

The one time Arthur would have anything close to a vacation, the one time he could have some fun on the job, a one time.

A single time, just aching to be filled with a mistake.

And that was what Arthur assumed he would be getting himself into as he parted his lips for a response. “Alright, Captain, shall I demonstrate how to unclasp your belt?”

Alfred blinked, that same no mom, I wasn’t looking at the kiss scene expression seizing his features as Arthur shifted under his arm to smooth a hand up his tie.

If someone wanted Arthur when no one else did, there was no point in playing hide and seek.

“Isn’t it advisable to keep the belt fastened, when we, um-” Alfred paused. He had probably read Arthur’s expression to find that yes, it was not a joke, so he reached into his wallet to pay the bill. “When we’re in for a bumpy ride?”

It was an action confirming that they were indeed going to take the nearest exit.

“I’m sure you’ll keep me safe, Captain.”

Arthur barely caught sight of Alfred’s incredulous smile before he was led, no, dragged, steps charged with the adrenaline of the moment and slight, buzzing intoxication, all the way into a hotel room. One that, by the looks of it, confirmed his bitter suspicion that the captains got better room service.

Arthur didn’t like attention, that was true, but more than likely they were two people seeking out company for the night. He was okay with that. He was okay knowing it was another mistake in his lifelong list of many- after all, with the size of their airport, they would probably never have to see each other again, and Arthur was, if anything, damn good at avoiding people.

Nevermind the fact that walking down the aisles the next day was a right, sore pain, or that Francis had demanded to know everything there was to know about Alfred’s ‘moves’.

Or that the entire flight crew somehow came to know of the fact that he’d slept with the captain.

It was a one-time thing. It was a fleeting, trashy, once-in-a-lifetime mistake that simply had to be made. How many others had the privilege of having a story starring a hookup with a flight captain?

Of course, it’s not like he ever expected to have to tell his children the exact same story- cheeks positively aflame as Alfred chuckled from the kitchen- when they’d asked him how he’d met their father.