#lord love me son of adam

[rrcenic]

if the scott pilgrim takes off characters had tumblr (yeahhh scott’s username is a sonic/x men reference)

🎸 sonicthemutant Follow

wallace sent me this idk what to say,,,

(12 notes)

🛼 bibibitch Follow

isn’t it funny how you can grow to love your ex boyfriend as a son

🛹 LucasLeeOfficialAccount Follow

which one of us is this about

🛼 bibibitch Follow

yes.

#made this post thinking about scott #but this applies to you as well tbh

(15k notes)

💅 prettydarngay Follow

“and they were roommates” i sob. “oh my god they were roommates” when will he notice me.

🎸 sonicthemutant Follow

we’re roommates haha!! silly coincidence?

💅 prettydarngay Follow

i am in love with you

🎸 sonicthemutant Follow

oh.

(8,345 notes)

💰Evil-CEO1147 Follow

my boyfriend @LucasLeeOfficialAccoubt walked into a glass door 😭😭😭

📝 yungneil Follow

i thought you were dating julie???

☕️ BitchyBarista Follow

it’s called polyamory you dumb fuck

📝 yungneil Follow

sorry ma’am

#pls don’t hurt me

(217 notes)

🥁 sexbobomb-band Follow

💋 envyyofficial Follow

if you cover my song i will beat you with my guitar

🔪 knives-from-sexbobom Follow

☹️☹️☹️☹️

(31k notes)

💅 prettydarngay reblogged toddtheveggiehead

🎸 sonicthemutant Follow

“wow scott you seem so cool why don’t you have lots of friends?”

i have autism *vine boom*

i’m transgender *vine boom*

my special interest is a kids video game *vine boom*

i’m not sure if i’m dating my roommate @prettydarngay or if we just flirt and sometimes kiss *vine boom*

🥷 roxxierocks Follow

#we. we are dating right???

NOT A FAKE POST BUT OMG SOMEONE ACTUALLY MADE WALLACES ACCOUNT @prettydarngay and so naturally i had to make @sonicthemutant! send asks :0

THERES NOW @knives-from-sexbobom and @kimpineofficial

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter Three: [The Grocery Affirmation]

Summary: When Sunday rolls around, Jake is chuffed to run into a ‘Damsel’ on his running route.

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of depression, anxiety, panic attacks. Mild romance. Angst/Whump.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author Note: EEPPPP I’m back queens!! The serotonin is doing the lords work. Really want to try and stick to a regular posting scene if I can get the routine in place. Been thinking about this one for a while now.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

There’s a saying that goes around hospitals that reads a little something like this. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. But there’s understandable doubt that the person who coined the saying ever went through a major surgery or trauma. 

Or maybe they didn’t mean physical pain. Perhaps they meant the other kind, the worst kind. Maybe they meant the kind of searing, seething, boiling pain that tells you you’re a failure as a mother and a fraud of a wife. 

Suffering is optional……That person didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about. It's all-consuming. The day-to-day struggle of living through hell all the while those who you loved unconditionally, were taken away in such horrific and volatile circumstances. The ever-burning pressure of survivor's guilt, the searing pain of grief, and the utter turmoil of failure all adds up. 

Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Yeah right. Suffering isn't optional, it was forced upon you in a split-second that changed the course of your life as you knew it…..and wanted it to be. 

Your deep and meaningful with Bob sat heavily inside your chest. Could you trust him? Was it fair to burden him with such a huge secret? Did you put him in danger by letting him in? Would he tell anyone? But as you opened the boot of your car and sighed at the haphazardly thrown-in grocery bags, a small sense of normality took the space of the pressing questions inside your mind. 

The groceries were heavier than normal, either you were getting weaker or you had just decided to purchase more impulse buys than normal. The paper bag handles were surely going to cut off the circulation in your arms as you were adamant to one trip this. From the undercover carport, up the three flights of stairs, down the hall and to the right, that's where your hideaway was. You'd say home, but home is where the heart is. Your heart was ripped from your chest when you watched your son’s life drain from his eyes. Your heart was shattered into a million pieces when you watched helplessly as your husband bled out in your arms. 

So no, no this wasn't a home for you, but it would have to do. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jake Seresin was en route, enjoying a rather peaceful run. Golden tan skin covered with a thin shine of sweat. The perfect combination for any workout. At a pace that matched A Man To Make Me Sweat, Jake made his way down the footpath that ran the expanse of the side street he knew your apartment complex to be on. 

Was the particular route Jake decided to take this morning one intertwined with the hope he would run into you? That's a question for another time. But when you came into view? Jake smiled to himself knowing that the other route passed Bradley’s condo wouldn't have been as eventful. Nor would it have such a beautiful view. 

The sight of you wrestling with a million groceries and effortlessly trying to convince yourself that you were fine, was a sight Jake could watch all morning. His stride started to slow but his heart rate kept rising. The thought of you, the sight of you, the idea of you being his and only his. Jake had never been the kind to want to settle down. He’d never been the man who committed to one person or one relationship. He was a free-floating spirit that enjoyed the company of others. But when he first saw you, first spoke to you, heard that laugh of yours, saw that beautiful smile, listened to your hypnotic voice, he knew he was fucked from the get-go.

On approach, Jake slowed right down to a walk. His eyes never left your silhouette as he reached into his pocket for his phone. Deciding to pause his music rather than just turn it down. Jake could have stayed like this forever, he could have watched you all day. But when he watched as the bottom of one of the paper bags blew out, sending groceries of all kinds across the drive and pathway, he knew he had to make himself known. 

“You need a hand?” Jake had never seen you look so scared in the time he’d known you as you turned around with wide eyes and a look of intense panic plastered across your face. He swore the tone he’d used had been one laced with a lighthearted approach. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you half to death Brewer.” Jake followed up as he approached with caution, holding his hands up by his head to show surrender and peace.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me Seresin,” The adrenal glands, also known as suprarenal glands, are small, triangular-shaped glands located on top of both kidneys. Adrenal glands produce hormones that help regulate your metabolism, immune system, blood pressure, response to stress and in this particular instance, respond to one Jake ‘Hangman’ Sererin scaring whatever soul you had left from your being. 

In your fright, you had let go of more of the grocery bags you had been trying to gather up. Groceries were strewn across the driveway and subsequent footpath. Cans of chickpeas and packets of beef jerky littered the concrete as you held your left hand over your heart to make sure it wasn’t about to leap out of your chest. 

“Fucking idiot, don’t scare people like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Jake chuckled to himself as a grin stretched itself across his smug face. Only you could call him an idiot in a scathing rage of fear and his mind would wander to marriage and children and dying together after a long and happy life together. Only you could provoke those once thought unattainable desires. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a coronary,” Jake replied softly as he reached down to collect a few of your lost items. “Just saw you struggling a little and thought I’d stop and help a damsel in distress.” 

“Jake, have I ever given off damsel in distress vibes to you before?” It wasn't the fact that you weren't a damsel. Hell if someone, if anyone had been around when you and your family were being hunted, you would have run into the arms of the nearest bystander. But it was the fact you couldn't get close to Jake. You knew his intentions, you knew his feelings towards you were something more than just platonic. And the worst part of it all was you knew your feelings were also more than something you could pretend didn't exist. Right person, wrong time. 

“Not exactly, no,” Jake replied as he handed you a rogue can of chickpeas. 

“So why on God's green earth do you constantly feel the need to play my saving grace?” The proximity in which you and Jake stood was something bordering a breach of personal space. He stood so close that you could see the small beads of sweat dripping down his chest. Slowing as they caught on the fine chest hairs that littered the expanse of his tanned and muscular self. “And clearly you need more shirts if you feel like running around the neighbourhood topless is appropriate.” 

Jake chuckled at the unimpressed nature of his attire, but he knew deep down, deep deep down, you were looking. 

“One, I have plenty of shirts, and two, any excuse to talk to you is a good enough excuse for me, Brewer.” The very thought of Jake going about his day finding any excuse under the sun to talk to you nearly had you forgetting how to breathe. But it was a fleeting thought, you couldn’t go there. He didn't even know your real name. He wasn't your dead husband. Maybe all these mixed feelings were purely birthed from a desire to not feel so alone. 

As you took the can of chickpeas from Jake's hand, you shut him down with a kind-natured jab. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Don't I know it.” Jake replied with a wink and a smile that could light up the entire night's sky on its darkest of nights before bending over to collect more rouge groceries. Your eyebrow raised in question and concern. What the hell was he doing? 

“What are you doing?” The question was out before you knew what you were saying. It was probably pretty self-explanatory. But your brain wasn't computing Jake's actions. 

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Jake answered with a chuckle. “I'm helping you with your groceries.” You stood there in silence as you watched Jake collect the groceries, wondering what you did to deserve such kindness. 

“I said I didn't need help.” You reminded Jake of the conversation you just had. It had seemed to slip his mind. In one ear and out the other. Attention deficit disorder. 

“No,” Jake stood tall, still sweating from his run. Glistening in the mid-morning sun. “You said you weren't a damsel, that didn’t imply I wasn't a gentleman raised by a woman who’d kick my ass if I didn't stay to help you.” 

“You’re a gentleman?” You had never known another version of Jake Seresin than what he had shown you. To everyone else, he was an arrogant, self-obsessed, egomaniacal who didn’t play well with other aviators who cared more about his abs than he did his friends. He was Hangman. 

But to you? He was simply Jake. Bagman. 

“Only for you.” Jake pressed his lips together in a fine line as he smiled. Your eyes caught Jakes in the morning light, golden and warm as dew drops disappeared from blades of grass and birds sang. The way he looked at you, the way Jake paid way too much attention, the way his eyes trailed down from your eyes to your lips as your fingers touched his. You saw him leaning in, you saw the distance getting smaller and smaller. For a split second, for a small fragment of time, you weren’t going to stop him. 

The silence that lingered wasn’t awkward, but it was intense. The unintentional sexual tension got the better of you as you stepped back and let out a rather large sigh. You had to break the moment, you couldn’t let Jake kiss you. If he kissed you now, you wouldn’t be able to keep a friendly distance. It broke the enchantment as Jake cleared his throat and stepped away. 

“Thanks–” 

“Anytime.” Jake, forever the gentleman, continued to help you collect your groceries and followed you back to your apartment in passive silence. Neither awkward or volatile. It was just peaceful, enjoying the company of one another. 

“You know when I asked what we were doing today I didn’t have unpacking groceries in mind.” Jake teased as he looked around your home, still holding as many broken bags of groceries as he could. “Nice place you’ve got here Brewer.” Jake, for as many times as he’d gotten to the front door of your humble abode, from all the times he’d taken you home or picked you up, he’d never crossed the threshold until this very moment. 

“I told you that I was doing a Sunday reset.” You raised your brow at him as you placed some bags down on the kitchen island, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t finish till early this morning, Bob actually stayed back and helped me get the last of the stragglers out.” You explained as Jake looked around your home from where he stood across from you at the kitchen bench. 

“Do you uh–” Jake asked softly as he caught the sight of a single photograph hanging by the hallway. A little boy sitting on your lap, dark hair, darkish skin, deep brown eyes, smiling ear to ear. It looked like you were tickling his side to get the very reaction captured in the image. “Need any help today?” Who was that little boy? Did you have a son? A nephew? 

You could tell by Jake's tone that he had seen something he wasn't technically supposed to see, but you weren't sure what it had been. 

“I should be good, not that I don’t enjoy your company, it's just I need some alone time,” You saw the questions swirling in Jake's eyes, but before he could ask any of them you followed up. “You know, because I spend so much of my time at the Hard Deck if I don’t take this time to focus on me, I can’t focus on you guys.” 

“Right, well I best be getting back to it then.” Jake pressed his lips together as he thought about what his next move was going to be. He had one of two options here. The first being he could walk away right this second without embarrassing himself. He could say goodbye and try to forget about to picture he’d seen of you with the small smiling child. The second and probably the most erratic choice was to lean in and kiss the lips that Jake had thought about late at night and first daylight for the last few months. He could hold your cheeks between his palms and rub the heat across your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He could feel your tongue dance with his in the moment where time would stand completely still–allowing Jake to feel for once in his life, fulfilled. 

“Yeah–” You replied as you moved a little closer to where Jake stood, moving to usher him back to the front door. “I’m sorry that my attempt to one trip it from the car interrupted–- “ What you weren’t expecting in the middle of your apology was to feel Jake’s lips on yours. The feeling took your breath away. For a fleeting moment, you gave into temptation and closed your eyes. You melted into the physical sensation of another human’s lips on yours. You craved this feeling, one of complete silence in the echoing caves of grief. You allowed yourself to feel the tender touch of Jake’s gentle lips melting with yours as you deepened the kiss. Moving along as Jake pressed your back into the cupboard behind you. His hand fell to your waist as you cupped at his cheeks. Desperately trying to feel every inch of Jake that you could before your mind was to overthrow your heart’s deepest desire for love and admiration. 

“Brewer–” Jake sighed into your mouth as his tongue danced with yours. His hands squeezed at your hips, adoring every curve. Jake could stay in this moment forever if you let him. But as you began to trail your hands down the expanse of Jake’s exposed torso, your brain broke from its restraints with a rude awakening. 

“This is what you get for being a noise fucking bitch!” 

The flash was blinding as the image of the smallest man who ever lived yelled out as he was being placed in the back of the police car. The man who killed your family. 

“Stop!” You gasped as you pushed at Jake’s chest. The look of uncertainty immediately plastered itself across his flushed face. His heartbrokenly beautifully forbidden face. 

“You alright?” Jake questioned with concern as his wide eyes scanned your face for signs of anything wrong. “Did I do something?” He was worried he’d crossed the line, you’d told him so many times you weren't interested. That he was reading into whatever this was, wrong. But he never really listened. He thought the chase was a part of whatever the two of you were becoming. 

“No,” You reassured Jake as you tried to contain the panic rising in your chest. “No it's not that you did anything,” You tried to explain as Jake's eyes softened. “It’s just, I’m–I’m not ready for this.” 

“Is there even a ‘this?” Jake asked as he stepped forward once again. Pushing the boundaries almost immediately. “Just spell it out to me simply, yes or no Brewer.” 

The silence as Jake tucked some of your hair behind your ear was deafening and all-consuming. Your eyes never left his as you tried to find the right answer. The moral answer. The safest and clearly the right choice. No, the answer was no. Nothing was going on between you, you weren't ready for whatever came next. You weren't ready to move on. You weren't ready to expose someone, let alone Jake, to what could possibly be death for just the idea of knowing you. It was a hard no with a capital N and a full stop. One word. Just one. 

“Yes–” *Fuck* “But I just need time, I'm not ready for–” You were trying so hard to find the right words as small tears welled in your water line. “I need to sort a few things out before I can do this, if you don't mind just going real slow, like slower than this?” 

You saw the cogs turning in Jake's mind as a smile ear to ear took over his face. 

“I'll do whatever you want me to, just say the words.” Knowing that you really just wanted the day to yourself, Jake tried his best to effortlessly and as seamlessly as possible, tiptoe his way back to the first choice he had. “I uh–I hope you have a good reset.” 

You could tell Jake really wanted to stay, you could tell he was hanging out for you to change your mind. But you weren't about to, if anything you needed Jake out of your home before he saw anything else he wasn't supposed to see or do anything else you knew you weren't supposed to be doing. No matter how good it felt. 

“I hope the run doesn’t involve any more damsels,” You chuckled softly as you nudged Jake with your shoulder. “Guess you finally did earn the nickname ‘Bagman’ after all,” You chuckled again as Jake did too, nodding along in agreement. “Thanks again for helping me with my groceries, Seresin, I really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime–” Jake cooed as he smiled, heading back towards the front door with you. “See you for beer o’clock tomorrow?” 

“Oh, I'll be there.” You replied as you held the front door open for Jake. watching as he headed on down the hall and out of site. As soon as Jake was gone you shut the door tight, making sure it was locked but the three separate safety measures you had in place, before turning and sliding your back down the door until you hit the ground. “Oh my–” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from panicking as you curled your knees tight into your chest. Jake seresin, in your fucking house. KISSING YOU. What the fuck were you doing? You couldn't let your feelings get the better of you. You had a son to avenge, a husband to get justice for. It was bad enough that you'd slipped up and let Bob in on your situation, but you were clearly allowing Jake to get too close. 

As you tried to calm yourself down from the panic, your phone rang softly in the distance. Back up on the kitchen bench, your phone displayed a name you never liked hearing from. It was mandatory though, the check-ins, the updates, the constant “We’re making progress but can't tell you anything more than that.” 

As you peeled yourself from the floor you saw the name. The dreaded contact that made your heart drop every single time. With every call the memories that haunted you grew more and more real. The veil between reality and memory blurs to the point you aren’t sure what’s real and what’s the past. It all hurts the same though, internal suffering. The name that kept bringing it all back, time and time again. Year after year. Never allowing old wounds to heal. 

Roger. 

Suffering is optional……That person didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87 @kajjaka @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @imladrisofabookdragon @buckysteveloki-me @mrsevans90 @allepaula @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @paperbag33 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @86laura11

[king--of--ducks]

I am Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, sin of Pride!

🍎I am Lucifer Morningstar, but you can call me Luci’ or even Apple Daddy if you wish~🍎

🍎I have a daughter named Charlotte, but everyone calls her Charlie. And if anyone hurts her, well, I’ll fucking wipe them out. This is my game, I’m the ref!🍎

🍎Charlie has informed me that I, apparently, have fans on the internet? And I figured if there are people who love me out there, might as well talk to them! Take that depression!🍎

🍎No spamming walls of text/emojis in my ask!🍎

OOC:I have no association with Vivziepop or her characters, this is just an obsessed fan being bored and goofing off. Things will most likely be out of character at times, I’m just kinda having fun with this.

I also decided to edit my pinned post to add this bit. This blog has been covering sensitive topics lately such as sh, ed, sui, and more. If you are not comfortable with this, I try to tag the posts to the best of my feeble minded capabilities, but that is content you can find here, so be warned.

I have a Discord server

Oh wow, it’s lore!

Personal lore

The Morning(star)

The Scars of an Angel

A Brush with Death

A fateful farewell

The loss of a brother

Extra lore

A Heartfelt Message

The Blue-Gem series

The Blue-Gem series(2)

The Blue-Gem series(3)

The Blue-Gem series(4)

The Blue-Gem series(5)

Mod—

@sockmanduckman

Circle of role players—

Same mod—

@moxxies-wife—Blitzø’s employee #1

@mammon-money-maker—Nuisance

@wally-wackfords-wacky-blog—Blitzø’s old chum

@ace-loves-josh

@the-666-news

@wiener-warrior—Adam

@gossip-sipper

Family—

@charlie-morningstar666–My beautiful little girl!

@the-moth-ex-angel—Soon to be daughter in law!

@alyxdefoisnthere—Bad sleep schedule daughter.

@damian-morningstar—Son

@headlessdeaddancer—My (step-)son!

@mcalastor—fiancé Freaky ass bitch.

@god-the-lord—My father has Tumblr?!?!

@bigdoginthesky—Another dad

@theholymessenger—Gabriel

@theholyhealer—Raphael

@michael-the-morningstar—Michael

@heavenly--knight—Another Michael?!?!

@ask-the-archs—2 for 1

@featheryhoe—King of Lust

Other—

@blitztheoissilent—Blitzø (formerly @blitz-horsie-enthusiast and @blitz-the-o-is-silent)

@logical-imp—Blitzø’s employee #2

@ducky-loyal-servant-of-lucifer—Cure for depression

@xxsmilingdeerxx—Freak

@radio-demon-on-the-air—Freak *2

@fizzythefrog—Blitzø’s bestie

@blue-gem-overlord—Ripoff Lapis

@heavens-gatekeeper—Petah!!!!

@king-mammon—Another Mammon

@sad-bird-stolas—My bestie

@the-original-dickmaster—My best friend

@the-exterminator—Adam’s petty ex

@lute-head-exterminator—Adam’s petty ex*2

@bad-boy-lover—Niffty

@nifftyhasaknife—Niffty*2

@penguinmaster9999—T and pals

@deadbeatbartender—Husker

[nevadancitizen]

-> O LORD, O LORD (WATCH OVER ME)

synopsis: joshua graham talks an awful lot about god and his blessings, and it leaves you curious as to what prayer is actually like.

word count: 1.8k

characters: joshua graham, courier six! reader

trigger warnings: mormonism, discussions of god + jesus christ

notes: this can be read as platonic or romantic, wasn't sure what direction i wanted this to go in :P also it was really hard to find information on mormonism without touching any mormon-affiliated sites but i rekindled my love for wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit!! everyone say thank you wikipedia <3333

The Lords of post-apocalyptic America are usually the ones with the most money, the most influence, the most soldiers on the ground. There is no bearded man in the sky, no Adam and no Eve, no christenings and no afterlife. When you die, you die, and there’s nothing beyond that. Nothing. Nothing remains. Someone might remember you for a little while after, but not for long. 

And yet, somewhere in the cracks and caves of the canyon of Zion, there is still worship. There is still prayer and reverence and love for God and Jesus Christ and all his children. 

But this is the first time you’ve heard of this mysterious “Jesus Christ” character and the weird way Joshua Graham talks when speaking of him.

He’s usually straightforward and blunt with his (and the Dead Horses’) needs and words, but when the topic of God comes around, he speaks in an almost poetic way – flowery, ornate. You usually only hear that type of talk from someone that’s day-tripping on Mentats, trying to sound smarter than they actually are.

But Joshua is smart. He’s a translator, with knowledge of language pouring over the cusp of his lips. His people are entranced by the inner workings of a professionally-crafted firearm, and he’s no different. He’s the prodigal son of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints. He’s basically a goddamn genius – in multiple fields, no less. 

It’s only reasonable that you’d want to pick his brain as you sit, cross-legged, on the ground of Angel Cave, loading bullets into magazines. Joshua sits a few feet away, meticulously checking the numerous .45 pistols that lay across the table over and over again.

You clear your throat and the sound echoes a little in the small cave. “Graham?”

He glances at you, then returns his gaze to the guns in front of him. “Yes?”

“Is it – uh, this God thing…” You scratch the side of your nose. “You… I don’t really understand it. I mean, following a few laws and receiving eternal salvation and all that sounds good, but I just… don’t get it.”

“I understand,” Joshua says. He flips the empty pistol in his hand so that he’s looking down the barrel and pulls the trigger. A dull click. “Most survivors think that there is nothing more to this world: just a well-trodden trail that they’re supposed to walk, from the house of Birth to the house of Death.”

He flips the pistol so that he’s holding the grip and slides the magazine back in. “Those looking for faith had simply been trying to find offshoots in this path, other houses to occupy. That is, if they ever actually felt the calling of God, even if it was the voice of a false one. They say that there are only two houses, and only dirt connecting them. But this is untrue.”

You continue thumbing bullets into the magazine. “How do you know? I mean, I don’t want to be disrespectful, but…”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Joshua reassures. “I’ve met a menagerie of people, seen grotesque creatures that were birthed from mutations and chems instead of God’s perfect hands. I appreciate that you’re approaching this with an air of curiosity rather than judgement.”

Joshua sets the pistol on the side of the table of the pistols he’s already checked. He turns in his chair so that he’s facing you and sets his elbows on his knees. The pale blue of his eyes are stark against the burn scars of his skin as he looks down at you. “What would you like to know?”

Clips of his voice flash through your mind – “You’re a good neighbor to us,” “Good news is our most valuable commodity,” “The fire that had kept me alive was love. Their love. God’s love.” – but it settles on one: “It never stops burning. My skin. Every day, I have to unwind the bandages and replace them with fresh ones. Exposing my body to the air is like living through it again. But it's better to be clean than comfortable.”

“Well…” You shift under Joshua’s piercing gaze. “You’ve stayed loyal to God, right? All your life. You worshipped and prayed and… yeah.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet Joshua’s. The bandages that cover him in his entirety give nothing away. “So why did he let you be burned like that? If he’s, y’know, all-loving, all-forgiving, shouldn’t he have guided you away from Caesar? Or, let… let you die?”

Joshua stares at you, then blinks once, twice. It’s like he wants to be sure of his words before he actually speaks. “There are some things that you don’t want to do and you pledge to yourself that you won’t do. You forbid yourself, and then, suddenly…”

His eyebrows furrow. “They happen all by themselves. You don’t even have time to think about them: they just happen and that’s it. Then you’re left just watching yourself with surprise – disgust – and convincing yourself that it wasn’t your fault, it just happened all by itself.” 

Joshua’s hands come together and the bandages make an abrasive sound as he folds his hands, his elbows still on his knees. “But things don’t happen by themselves. The Legion didn’t build itself – I had a hand in it. And so this is my punishment. My atonement for not noticing how things were changing day-to-day. Not noticing how translating became giving orders, how giving orders became leading in battle, how leading in battle became training, punishing, terrorizing.

“I am a wicked man, with a wicked soul. I can only pray to God that this is enough for everything I’ve done.”

Your eyes return to the half-loaded magazine in your hand, and the bullet in the other. You roll the bullet in your fingers as you think. It’s… weird, to you, Joshua’s relationship with God. He doesn’t sound all that loving and forgiving. So why worship him? Why make and keep covenants with him? It sounds contradictory and hypocritical.

“Okay.” You look up at Joshua again as you thumb the bullet into the magazine. “Then… praying. What’s praying? I mean, I’ve seen you doing the…” You set the magazine in your lap and bring your hands together, palm-to-palm. “Before eating. I know that’s part of prayer, ‘cause you told me. But can you, like, hear him? Or is it like talking to a wall?”

“I cannot hear him, no,” Joshua says. “But I know he is listening, and I offer every prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, who is a medium through which man can converse with God. I feel him touch my heart, and guide my mind with his blessings and counsel.”

“Blessings and counsel sound nice,” you say. “But what do they look like? Like, how do they manifest?”

Joshua tilts his head slightly, the bandages on his neck making a soft sound. “Rain in a time of drought. Dryness in a time of flooding. A bullet that makes contact in just the right place. A bullet that just barely misses. God’s blessings are diverse and many.”

“Sounds like I could use some of those blessings.” You laugh under your breath as you go back to loading the magazine. A few seconds pass as you fill it, then move on to filling the next. An idea pops into your head as your hands continue their repetitive actions. 

Why shouldn’t you be able to get a blessing? From what you understand, it only takes a few words and an invocation of a holy name. It should be easy to get one – right? Or maybe not. Either way, you’d need it, especially with the way Joshua described the examples of blessings. Divine intervention sounds like it could literally be a lifesaver.

“What if, uh…” You scratch your cheek. “What if I want one of these blessings?”

Joshua narrows his eyes, the reddish burns of his skin cutting into the blue of his irises. “Do you… wish to pray? Do you want me to pray over you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say. You glance up at Joshua, then look down at the magazine. Your hands fumble a bit, then correct themselves. “I don’t… really know how to, though.”

“I will lead you in prayer, if that’s what you truly want,” Joshua says.

All it takes from you is a single nod.

He gets up out of his chair and kneels before you, resting on the heels of his boots. You look up at him, and he’s looking down at you. You could swear he’s looking at you with some kind of hope in his eyes, but it’s hard to tell in the low light of the torches that illuminate the cave.

“Come on. Up on your knees.” Joshua takes the magazine from your hands and sets it aside.

You sit up on your knees, resting on your heels, mimicking Joshua. You clear your throat nervously. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay.” Joshua takes your hands in his, cradling your fingers with his and resting his thumbs on your knuckles. The bandages on his fingers are abrasive, but in a comforting type of way. “As I said, I’ll lead. Now bow your head and close your eyes.”

You do as he says, and his rumbling voice starts the prayer. 

“Dear God, I thank you for this day, and I thank you for your allowance for life to continue prospering in this wasteland. Now, allow me to direct your attention to one of your creations: the one I’m praying with right now.

“Allow me to pray over this courier. I pray that no matter where they go, no matter how far off the trail of fate they fall, you will watch over them. Even if they fall to temptation – any temptation – that you will still protect them with all that you can, for I know you are merciful, and I know you are loving. 

“In this world filled with defilement and savagery and violence and barbarity, the only comfort I can turn to is you. Allow me this comfort. Allow me to know that this courier, no matter what they do, no matter what sin they fall to or transgression they commit, is safe. In Jesus Christ’s name, amen.”

Joshua lets go of your fingers and brings his hands away from yours. 

You open your eyes and look up at him. You glance around the cave – nothing’s different. Everything seems to be exactly the same.

“Is that it?” You ask, then register how disrespectful that sounds. “I mean – I just didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Yes, the prayer is over.” Joshua stands, then holds out his hand to help you up. You take it.

“Now, please, make yourself sparse.” He glances at you, then his eyes flicker over to the table stacked with .45 pistols. “I have some of my own praying to do.”

[loserboyfriendrjl]

lyall flipped a page of his book (the lord of the rings — the hobbit, obviously; it had been remus’ favourite book when he was little, he used to read it to him), sitting on the old, worn out armchair.

remus had asked him, in his last letter, not to come to king’s cross to pick him up, and instead let him apparate back home. lyall had, reluctantly, agreed, yet his heart felt a twinge of sadness when he wrote the letter back; remus was growing older, undoubtedly. he didn’t need them anymore. but the prospect of him splinching himself to wales hadn’t been exactly exhilarating. however, he decided to give his son the chance to… he didn’t even know. he missed remus.

his thoughts were interrupted by hearing the door open and seeing his son enter their cottage, carrying his shabby suitcase in one hand. remus seemed to have grown considerably over the school year, making him appear gangly and unsure into his body. he was also in dire need of a haircut; his mother, hope, would surely take care of that later. (lyall almost chuckled, already hearing her voice: “cariad, do wizards not have scissors?”)

remus looked almost exactly like his father. the same curls, the same hooked nose, the same dropped eyes, rimmed with long eyelashes, the same crooked teeth. however, lyall knew better; his son had his mother’s warm smile, the same dimples in their cheeks, the same mischievous glance.

as if he could read his father’s thoughts, he put his arms to his side. “intact,” he said, rather awkwardly. “i didn’t splinch myself; apparition classes seem to have been a success.”

“i knew you wouldn’t,” lyall lied, licking his fingers before flipping the page, as his son made his way into the kitchen.

he sat down on the couch, and saffron, their ginger cat, considered that to be the perfect opportunity to jump next to her owner and start kneading against his thigh.

they sat in silence for a while; a father, pretending to read, and his son, looking at the pictures on the shelf above the fireplace and obviously engulfed in his thoughts, yet lyall didn’t ask what he was thinking about.

finally, he put his book down. “did i ever tell you about how your mother and i met?”

remus’ lips were parted by a small chuckle. “yes, about a billion times.”

“well,” he said, clasping his hands together. “you know, son, the first time I met your mother, it was quite the adventure. she was out for a walk through a forest when she stumbled upon a boggart — and i’m not going to explain to you what that is, because considering your OWL results, i can very well tell you know.. for her, it turned into a large, terrifying man. i don’t know who it was supposed to be. you mother was frightened, she screamed; i, being nearby, rushed over and with a quick wave of my wand, turned it into a little mushroom.”

“what a hero,” remus chuckled, pulling his longs legs up his chest.”

“i made sure she got home safely, and well, that was the beginning of something special. a few months later, i told her that the boggart posed no danger at all, but by then, we had already fallen in love. not long after, i asked her to marry me, and she said yes. we got married about a hear before you were born, and your mother, with her wicked sense of humor, decided we should have…

“the boggart-shapper topper,” remus finished, grinning. “classic ma.”

“then, as you know, or well, don’t, since you were just born,” lyall continued, (remus snorted) “on march the tenth, the following year, you came into our lives, and our little family was complete.”

his son chuckled, kicking his feet up on the couch. he chewed on his lip. “what’re you reading?”

“the hobbit,” he answered. “i had a bout of nostalgia. you’ve grown up so quicky; it feels like you’re not my little boy anymore.”

he saw remus’ adam apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“i mean, look at you. your mum’s got to stand on her tiptoes to kiss you, and i know she’s not the tallest woman, but she had to bend down to be able to hold your little hand once. and you could fit between my arms, remus, with your head on my chest when i read to you. you used to be so little, and in a few months you won’t even be living with us anymore. you’re of bloody age,” he let out an airy laugh, “now.”

lyall didn’t know when remus had stood up and was behind him, his arms wrapped around his dad’s shoulders. “i’m still your son,” he said, his voice as small as it used to be when he was little.

“i know,” he reached out awkwardly and patted remus’ shoulder, ignoring the sniff he heard remus let out. “you’re always gonna be our son, cariad.”

[lesbianrobin]

non-exhaustive list of films that would cause eddie diaz to have a mental breakdown and/or cry so hard he throws up:

moonlight (2016). self explanatory.

the only son (1936). eddie might actually kill himself if he watched this. he would just be silent for like hours after watching and that night he would just stand in christopher's doorway watching him sleep for like minimum forty-five minutes. he would exist in a state of profound pessimism and melancholy until he saw buck again at which point he would forget about all of that and be normal. sometimes in his life he will randomly remember the only son (1936) and be like chris. you know that i'll be proud of you no matter what you do with your life right. all i want is for you to be happy. and chris will be like yeah.... why are you talking like we're in a movie and you have a terminal illness. and eddie's like i'm not talking like that i'm being normal. i'm a father. and chris is like ok weirdo. and eddie feels better.

the babadook (2014). self explanatory.

4th man out (2015). he would be like this movie is so dumb it's So dumb and then 1. cry when adam comes out to his mom and 2. get deeply invested in the relationship between adam and nick and when they kiss toward the end he'd be like YESSSSS but then when they laugh it off and say they're just friends he'd be like oh..... and feel really upset about it for reasons he cannot explain. he would rant to buck/chim/hen/bobby for like fifteen minutes about how the whole movie was CLEARLY leading up to a romantic conclusion between them and the writers were just being cowards for going with the best bros ending and buck would be like EXACTLY and everyone else would be like 👀😳 and hen would be like well i think they were trying to make the point that gay men can still have close intimate friendships with other men without it being sexual and eddie would be like okay well then those guys shouldn't have had so much chemistry!! and chim would be like yknow some might say that you and buck have good chemistry. and buck would be like we do <3 and eddie would be like hell yeah we do and they'd fuckin fist bump or something and the entire firehouse is like oh my GODDDDDD.

but i'm a cheerleader (1999). self explanatory.

brokeback mountain (2005). self explanatory.

captain america: the winter soldier (2014). eddie reacts So strongly to this movie and nobody understands it (including eddie) except for buck who immediately and instinctively understands that eddie is projecting onto both steve rogers and bucky barnes but only the sad lonely soldier losing himself and hurting the people he loves against his will parts + completely bypassing the hero parts. also steve's like "even when i had nothing i had bucky" and eddie is like hhhhhhhhh...

the pit, the pendulum and hope/kyvadlo, jáma a naděje (1983). okay look. i'm aware that nobody knows what this is. it is a short film inspired by edgar allan poe's "the pit and the pendulum" and auguste villiers de l'isle-adam's "a torture by hope." you should all go watch it but if you don't let me just tell you that eddie would have another panic attack and/or throw up.

the lord of the rings: return of the king (2003). self explanatory.

[libby-for-life]

Hayo! It's me!

Um... If it's not too much trouble, could you do part 6 of "Theirs"? Where Adam is expelled from Eden for being "contaminated" and while Lucifer and Lilith lose their minds because their loved one is "unprotected" and "defenseless" outside, Adam is having the best day of his life having killed two of Adam's ancestors of the bears (which are huge). and all this while having a pregnant belly.

It's just that I find it funny to imagine their reunion. Adam with absolutely long, tangled hair, a spartan beard, covered in the skin of the beasts he killed for food, covered in scars, scrapes and bruises, with a muscular build. A completely wild appearance that is softened by the fanny pack made of animal skin in which she carries her three year old son.

Don't know. I find that funny. Lucifer and Lilith losing their minds with worry and Adam having the time of his life after leaving Eden (he's a wild soul) (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Ooohhhh, I like that! Adam is a wild soul by nature. Read parts 1 through 5 for a better understanding of this mini-series.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Adam crept silently closer through the brush, his eyes trained on the bear before him. He gripped his spear tightly as he surveyed his surroundings. Nothing so far other than danger in front of him. Shifting his weight on, his belly poking out of the makeshift tunic he had made, he charged the bear.

It didn't have any idea what was going on until it was already dead. Being six months pregnant and hunting at the same time was hard but Adam managed it. He grinned at his belly. "You eat a lot for a little twirp." He commented as he dragged the bear up onto his shoulders to carry back to his cave. Finally. These cravings were really starting to wear him thin, but if anyone had asked him, Adam had never felt happier.

This was what he had been missing. He finally felt alive.

Three months ago:

Adam coward at the feet of Lucifer and Lilith as the angels surrounded them. They were trying to protect him as the angles looked at Adam in disgust and he couldn't help but whimper away from them.

"Lucifer, how dare you seduce the first of humanity with your vile ways?" An angel growled. Lucifer stood his ground though and defiantly growled back. "Seduced? We fell in love!" Lucifer yelled. "They love me and I love them!"

His brother, Michael, scoffed. "You come into the Garden, have fornication with the first of our Lord's creation, and you call it love after we told you specifically not to come to the Garden? They were meant for each other. Not for you to force your way in." Lucifer flinched but glared at his twin.

Lilith also held her ground as she said, "I won't let you hurt Adam."

"No? What will you do?" An angel taunted. "I say we banish him from Eden. He's tainted from their sin." Adam could only watch as they nodded and talked to themselves as to what his punishment for getting pregnant would be.

They held Lucifer and Lilith in chains as Adam was dragged out of the Garden. "We'll find you!" Lucifer cried tears in his eyes. Lilith was trying to fight the chains holding her down, but she was furiously crying as well.

Adam felt numb. Lucifer and Lilith were both bound for Hell or maybe somewhere else and he was forced to wander the earth. The last thing he saw was Lilith and Lucifer crying out his name before everything went dark.

Present:

It was so long ago. As conflicted as he was about the whole situation, he couldn't help but feel like he could breathe again. Lucifer and Lilith could be suffocating to be with because they didn't let him do anything. Despite being kicked out of the Garden, he was enjoying the feeling of being independent.

There was a part of him that hoped they were okay. He didn't want them suffering, especially since they looked so scared for him. Adam stretched and smiled as he scratched his growing beard. He was sure they were fine. Lucifer and Lilith were some of the toughest people he knew. He was sure they were thriving in Hell or wherever they were.

XxX

Lucifer and Lilith were panicking up a storm. Adam was all alone out there in the wilderness, alone with a baby, and unable to take care of himself. They had to protect him. But they were stuck somewhere in the wilderness with no way out as well. Adam could be anywhere and as Lucifer had explained to Lilith, Earth was huge. He could very well be on the other side of Earth. He could be on an island, the desert, and even someplace he couldn't leave either. Stuck and unable to help himself.

Lilith felt herself hyperventilate. What if—what if Adam was already—

Her train of thought was cut off as Lucifer came flying down. "I...I couldn't find him in our area. We're going to have to move again." Lucifer had been spreading his angelic power every time they moved to find Adam but it only went so far. Hence why they moved every day, sometimes three times a day before Lucifer collapsed from exhaustion.

Lilith looked over Lucifer and her heart broke seeing him silently cry. Two years. They hadn't seen Adam in two years and they had searching every day without fail. They refused to believe Adam was hurt or de—she refused to go down that line of thought.

She brought Lucifer close and hugged him. "We'll find him. We're close. I can feel it." Empty words. She had no idea where he was. He could have been thousands of miles and they wouldn't have known.

"....yeah. We'll find him." Lucifer said. "I can feel it too."

The next day, Lucifer flew them both in the air. They had been flying for hours. He once again shoved his angelic power as far as it could reach to find Adam. Lilith kept her eyes looking all around, trying in vain to see if she could catch a glimpse of Adam.

Suddenly Lucifer screeched and they almost fell. Lilith yelped and hung on for dear life as Lucifer looked toward the east. "Lucifer?! What happened?!"

"I found him," Lucifer said before flying as fast as he could toward the East. Lilith couldn't hardly believe her ears. "Found him?! You found Adam?!" Lucifer nodded rapidly. "Yes! He's over here!" Adam. Adam had been found! Lucifer was a man on a mission as he flew down and landed in the middle of a vast forest.

"Adam?! Adam, sweetie where are you?!" Lilith yelled as Lucifer did the same. Lucifer guided her toward the direction Adam was in.

They burst through a clearing just in time to see a large mass of muscle tackle a massive bear to the ground. They could only stare as the person took a spear and plunged it into the head of the bear. It collapsed onto the floor and the man laughed as he stood over the beast.

He had wild long brown hair, a ripped body, and a thick beard. But they would recognize him anywhere.

"Adam?" Lucifer said, completely shocked at finding him here. The man looked over at them, his expression conveying shock at seeing them. He slung a makeshift leather sack on his chest as he walked over.

"Lucifer? Lilith?" Adam asked. Lilith still was taller but Adam's slim build was now muscled beyond what she thought capable. It looked good on him.

"I—what are you doing here?" Adam asked. He didn't sound mad or accusatory. Just confused.

"Adam! Oh, Adam! I'm so glad to see you!" Lilith cried out and hugged him. She was crying as Lucifer joined in. "We've been searching this whole time! We didn't give up even once—"

"Hey, sh," Adam said as he hugged them close. "You'll wake him up." They both looked at Adam confused until they realized the bundle around Adam’s chest moved slightly.

"Is that? The baby?" Lucifer asked in awe. Adam smiled proudly and opened the leather sack. Inside, was a beautiful baby boy sleeping peacefully. He had dark brown hair that looked almost black in the shade and pale skin like Lucifer. "He...he has your eyes, Lilith." Adam said with a smile. "A beautiful purple." Lilith blushed a bit at that comment.

"What's his name?" She asked.

"Seth."

[brokenheartsrecords]

track one: oranges and lemonade and stuffy ballrooms words: 1.44K tw: none

YOU DO NOT REALLY WANT to attend a ball filled with pompous aristocrats and people your mother considers eligible bachelors. And you certainly do not want to spend time dancing with men who would rather talk about themselves and cotton rather than ask you about your interests.

A sorrowful situation, your mother says, shaking her head with that matchmaking smile on her face. You know what she’s planning as you pull on your gloves and adjust the neckline of your gown—wasn’t it a bit too low for a ball?—and play with the wings of your feather-braided fan. 

The mask on your face, however, doesn’t require much adjustment, partially because it was already fixed in place, with the strings intertwined in your elaborate hairstyle, and partially because there were teardrop-shaped sapphires hanging from the edge of the mask. It would be a shame if you shifted the entire visor and ended up having the sapphires hang over your ears instead of where they lay upon your cheek.

The irony of your costume was not lost on you—the spinster wearing a weeping widow’s gown. Your mother and the dressmaker had a sense of humour.

“Look at him over there—Lord Castor. He’s a fine man, but has a love for gambling. If you marry him, you might have to live in a house that slowly loses all the decorations because of it.”

“Mama, I am not marrying him. I heard his years at Oxford only led to his skill at arithmetic being diminished rather than enriched.”

Your mother hits the back of your hand with her fan. “You mustn't say such things in public, darling.” She purses her lips, and then lowers her voice. “I heard he mistook his father’s new bride for his illegitimate daughter.”

You snort. “She’s young enough to look like a daughter more than that old man’s bride.”

“Oh, I pity her.” Mama says, sigh apparent in her voice. “I do not want you to end up the same way, which is why I push you towards the eligible men who are nearest to your age. Like that Mr. Richards.”

“I danced with almost everyone here at every single ball, Mama. And you know that Mr. Richards has a difficult mother.”

“How about Sir Adams?”

“His spoken English is abysmal at best.”

“You cannot expect to find a scholar in every individual.”

“I should hope that my husband should at least be able to carry an intelligent conversation with me, no, Mama?”

She sighs, her eyes catching on the rapidly approaching host of the ball. “There she comes, Ms. Skye. I’ve always disliked her— Ms. Skye! What a lovely ball you’ve put together.”

Ms. Skye laughs. “I did not expect you to accept my invitation, dearest Lady. I can only assume you’re here to hunt for your son-in-law.”

“If you would’ve assumed anything else, you would be sorely mistaken, Ms. Skye. I never asked, how are your grandchildren?”

The woman flicks her hand. “They’re being difficult, like every child is.”

“I would’ve understood that, of course, but I must say, my daughter was an angel when she was a baby.”

You hide your face behind your fan. Angel, of course you were one. You definitely weren’t like satan’s spawn at birth and in your childhood.

Mama continues. “How are your other sons?”

“Jamie is courting the daughter of a second son, can you believe it? I always pushed him towards girls with a better background, but what’s happened has happened. She’s a pain sometimes—no, often. Xander is still working under that physicist at Oxford, and Gray is yet unmarried. I tell him all the time that I might not live too long, and that I would love to see him married, but he seems rather fixed upon remaining a bachelor for the rest of his life.”

“My daughter is almost the same way, Ms. Skye. Every man I show her, she finds a way to reject him! He either wasted his years at Oxford, smells like fish, or has a fondness for the drink. I doubt I will be finding her a husband any time soon.”

The two women giggle, and you are starting to get tired of the conversation. 

“Mama? May I be excused? I promise I shall be right by the refreshments.” You say, hoping your mother will let you go.

With a nod, she says she’ll come find you later, and you walk towards the lemonade. The neckline feels lower than usual, and it feels exceedingly hot in this room filled with stuffy aristocrats.

And the lemonade is warming. Just your luck. 

You take a sip out of it anyway, and take a look at the dancers in front of you. Happy couples and then couples who dance just for show.

And then you, standing at the side, with not even one man you wish you could dance with.

Bored, you take a look at the doors, thinking if it would be so bad if you decided to take your carriage home right now, without waiting for your mother.

She’d be furious, of course, but could she fault you?

A figure stalks towards the doors, and you straighten your back, putting the lemonade down on the table. They seem to be in a hurry, either to get away from someone…

Or to meet someone.

Curiosity ignited, you walk to the doors and walk out of the doors.

Briefly, you consider the consequences of this action of yours. If that figure was a male, and it looked like it was, with the waistcoat and breeches, and if someone discovered the two of you together, it would mean one of two things.

One, a forced marriage to save your reputation. Your mother would turn it into a sign, saying that God sent you this opportunity so that you don’t have to resort to spinsterhood for the coming years of your life. Two, blackmail the witness before they manage to bring anyone else to multiply the number of witnesses.

You stop by the gates of the orangery, asking yourself if this is really worth it.

Three seconds later, you’re opening the doors of the orangery and stepping inside.

There’s a man at the corner of the room, holding shears in his hands and slowly removing oranges from the tree, later placing them in a basket.

He pauses in his movements, and you notice that he’s abandoned his coat as it hangs from a coat rack at the doors.

“Jamie, I do not wish to speak with you at the moment. And if Skye is looking for me, tell her to bother Nash instead.”

You walk towards the man with the shears. Your footsteps resonate throughout the orangery, and the man pauses in his movements again. 

“Did you not hear me?”

You take a breath. “I am not your brother, or your mother for that matter. I just wanted to know who you are.”

You see a peek of blond hair as the man puts the shears down on the table. “I beg your pardon, madam?”

He steps out from behind the tree, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes an icy grey. He is, quite possibly, the most beautiful man you’ve ever looked at. 

“I’ve never seen you before.” You say, ignoring him.

“I rarely go to dances. Who are you?”

You almost give him your name, before you decide against it. It’s inappropriate to give an introduction without your mother present.

Nearly as inappropriate as being alone with a man of a marriageable age without a chaperone.

As if coming to the same realisation, his eyebrows furrow even more. “You shouldn't be here, not without a chaperone.”

You shrug and go to the table, picking up the shears. “I doubt anyone will wish to come to an orangery when there’s a ball inside the house.”

“But you came. Someone might’ve followed you.”

“If they did, they did. I know almost everyone’s secrets, and blackmail always works.”

His eyebrows relax, and you see a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Any reason you sought to escape to the orangery?”

You open your mouth, but you hear the doors slam open.

And that is when you register just how close you and the blond man are. Two more steps and your chests would be touching.

The new arrival looks at the two of you, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. 

You know him, at least. From all those balls he attends where he dances with the girl Skye had dismissed as the daughter of a second son.

Jameson Hawthorne.

And he’s a witness to what looks like a secret rendevous between two lovers.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Aladdin AU)

*Alastor the chief advisor of Queen Sera waited for a pimp named Valentino to meet him, standing by Alastor was his assistant Vox, a man who had the ability to hypnotize people which Alastor used to hypnotize the Queen, thankfully Valentino arrived*

Alastor: You are late.

Valentino: A thousand apologies Lord Alastor.

*Valentino bowed and Vox glared at the slimy pimp in disgust*

Valentino: Is this the cave?

*the men men stood in front of a cave that was shaped like a tiger’s head, it made Alastor think of Prince Adam’s beloved pet tiger Lute who would bite anyone who made the young man uncomfortable*

Vox: This is the Cave of Wonders.

Cave of Wonders: Who disturbs my slumber.

Valentino: It is, Valentino.

Cave of Wonders: Only one may enter here, the Diamond in the Rough.

Alastor: What are you waiting for? Go on.

*Valentino slowly approached the cave and when he stepped in the mouth closed crushing Valentino leaving blood and guts everywhere*

Vox: Great, another failure.

Cave of Wonders: Seek me out the Diamond in the Rough.

*the royal guards chased a short blonde young man clutching a loaf of bread with a slightly younger woman running alongside him, they were Lucifer and Charlie, a brother and sister who had to steal to survive*

Lucifer: All this for a loaf of bread.

Captain of the Guards: I will have your hands for a trophy.

*Lucifer ran until he found Rosie, a woman who was friends with their mother, who pulled them into her home until the guards went away, when they Lucifer and Charlie left they sat down while Lucifer tore the bread in half so he could share it with Charlie, but they saw a pair of homeless children who needed food more than either of them did*

Lucifer: You can have this.

*Lucifer handed his half of the bread to the older child*

Charlie: You can have mine too.

*Charlie handed her half of the bread to the younger child, it was another night without food, but the children being fed was more important, Lucifer saw a crowd gathering, it was a princess named Lilith riding into the city seeking the hand of Sera’s beloved son and Prince Adam in marriage*

Guy #1: Another Princess for Prince Adam to reject.

Guy #2: Why doesn't he just pick someone?

Lucifer sighed, Adam was the Prince Heaven, Queen Sera's only child after her husband the King passed away when Adam was still in diapers.

The children from before ran out into the street.

Lilith: Ugh! You little brats!

She went to whip them and Lucifer ran out and took the whip to his arm.

Lucifer: If I were as rich as you, I would be able to afford some manners.

Lilith: Out of my way!

She kicked him into the mud.

Lucifer: Look Charlie! It's not every day you see a horse with two asses!

Everyone laughed.

Lilith glared: You're nothing but a filthy street rat. You'll die a street rat and only your flees will mourn you!

The palace gates closed as Lucifer charged them.

Lucifer: I don't have flees..... Bitch. I hope Prince Adam rejects you.

-

A few hours later and Princess Lilith was storming out of the room.

Lilith: GOOD LUCK MARRYING HIM OFF!!

Sera: Leaving so ...... Soon?

Lilith had some of her dress missing as she stormed out.

Sera: Adam.....

Adam was sitting by the pond with his pet tiger Lute.

Sera: Adam! Adam! Oh confound it Lute!

Adam: Oh Lute was only playing with that spoiled princess Lilith. Weren't you girl? Hehehe.

Sera did not look impressed.

Sera: Adam my dear, you know the law, you have to get married-

Adam: To someone of royal statues I know. But mom if I do get married one day I want it to be for love.

[aziraphales-library]

hello!!

i love what you guys do with this blog, firstly. i really appreciate it, as im sure many others do.

second, is there any fics with gabriel telling mary of her pregnancy? i have the image in my head but cant find any fics about it and i honestly want a good laugh [i cant take it seriously]

thank you for all you do!

Hi! Here are the couple of fics i could find...

Great news! by Nyariewen (G)

It's the Annunciation day! Gabriel is on earth to deliver the great news to Maryam (aka Mary) that she'll be the mother of God's son. Aziraphale assists.

Ex Maria virgine by haemey (T)

Gabriel famously was the angel at the Annunciation, telling Mary that she would give birth to Jesus. Yikes. Excerpt: “Allow me: Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. I’m Gabriel.” “What,” said Miriam. “Gabriel,” said Gabriel. “That’s my name. You have one of those, too, right? Ma… Mo…” “Miriam,” said Miriam. “Miriam!”, Gabriel repeated. “Right! Good name. Very good name. Now, Miriam, as I was about to say…” “What are you doing in my bedroom?”, asked Miriam, who refused to think about this situation any further than she had to.

Gone Away by Beckers522 (T)

What if Gabriel wasn't always so horrible? What if he cared about humanity, a long time ago? What if he even loved them once, before they rejected the Almighty and Her greatest gift. Before they chose to murder an innocent man. Before they turned their backs to the suffering of the one person who could save them all. What if, when Jesus took his final breath upon the cross, everything changed? This is a story about Gabriel's interactions with the Son of God throughout the course of his life and what exactly happened to the Archangel that fateful day to fill his heart so full of hate.

How to Make an Antichrist by Varjo (T)

This is a collection of four short stories, detailing possibilities of how an Antichrist baby might come to be born, mostly because I was wondering about Adam's biological mother while everybody was in terror of his father. Plus, here is a little bonus chapter in the end, poking fun at how the other side might have gone about handling Virgin Mary and her pregnancy.

- Mod D

[edutainer2022]

An angsty Bereznik-timeline-Jeff story snuck up on me. I got to write it out in the campus bomb shelter, awaiting the strike of Dagger-class missiles. But in the end, a glimmer of hope won over. As always, many thanks go to @janetm74 for incessant support.

MESSAGE

Colonel Tracy walked up to the GDF Headquarters. It was the military training, a familiar grid to fall back on, that got him there. Not through it. Nothing could get him through it. But he kept his back ramrod straight, looked ahead with glassy eyes, put one foot in front of the other and got there. Jeff Tracy was summoned to collect Captain Tracy's, status updated to KIA, personal effects, sent from the Airbase, so Colonel Tracy reported on time, as told. Because Jeff Tracy, the father, wasn't available. Captain Tracy's father, previously Scott Tracy's, Scooter's, and Scotty's father, was prostrate, still and numb, all out of voice or tears, or wits, or strength, or a will to go on, over the charred remains of an F-18 fighter jet, somewhere on the outskirts of a thick Moravian forest. Indefinitely.

They could have just mailed Scott's things home to Kansas, but for some reason his old combat friends Lord Hugh and Major* Casey were adamant he came in person. Not that there could be much classified about well-worn Yale t-shirts, a dress uniform and spare fatigues, faded jeans, Scott's favorite running shoes and, it could be presumed, a copious number of snapshots of little brothers over the years Captain Tracy kept in his locker and in every available pocket at all times. But his friends (and the boy's superiors) insisted, so he showed up. The empty hull of him, at least. It became apparent why when Lord Hugh offered him a seat and entered a personal passcode into a secure comm unit. Val Casey's face was stricken with anguish. Through the cotton cloud of numbness Jeff could distantly register his heart constrict - he could hardly process any more agony those days. Already hit and anticipating a takeover, Scott managed to send out the last message. Jeff knew the drill since the last war: the pilot would access a unique classified frequency they were to use only once - when chances of survival were zero to none. The message was to contain whatever usable intel the pilot could offer on the ground behind enemy lines. It would be recorded into a cloud, scrambled and bounced off different servers so as to not give away the pilot's or the jet location. Jeff was summoned to be played the "unclassified" portion of Scott's last ever holocall. He took Hugh up on his offer of the seat as his knees buckled.

Dark curls were plastered to the boy's forhead, drenched in sweat. Or maybe blood. Scott's face was covered in soot and there was a gush over his brow, but even that combined with the bluish tint of the holo couldn't hide the pallor.

"Hi, guys!"

The ready smile, ever there when Scott was talking or thinking of his brothers, faltered. Haunted eyes squeezed shut briefly against a painful grimace and reappeared, brimming with moisture.

"God! I love you all so much I wish I could just message my heart to you! Allie..."

His son's face mellowed at the mention of the baby brother and in an instant it was Lucy's hologram in a torn and blooded flightsuit, shivering from strain and emotion. And onsetting shock. Val Casey by his side was crying openly.

"Allie! You be good for me, alright?! Listen to Dad and Grandma! Know that I'll always be there for you! ALWAYS! Gordie, you go on training! I'm so proud of you! Go get 'em, Squiddo! Johnny... I know, I know... but hey! I get big brother perks! You're so smart, kid, you can do anything! I'll see you in the stars, I KNOW you'll make astronaut! Virg... Virgie, you listen to me - don't let ANYONE doubt you! Least of all yourself! You do what your heart feels right, ok? I believe in you, brother! Gosh, I could just hug you lot and never let go!"

Jeff's knuckles were white, his grip on the edge of the conference table so tight he could snap a slab off. The expression on the holo-tinged face shifted to something hesitant and so, so impossibly young.

"Dad! I'm so sorry! I let you down... I know you needed me for the Project. It's gonna be AWESOME! Dad... I'm scared... I love you!"

An explosion off screen distorted the signal and the feed was cut off. Jeff was on his feet by then, a flimsy office chair kicked to the side. That didn't last long, though, as he reached both hands to the empty space where a gossamer image of his son just revealed feeling guilty and afraid, all alone, seconds before dying. In a place he ended up only following in his father's footsteps. Jeff's battle with consciousness and gravity was lost before it even started and the hardwood floor rushed close in a flash.

***

[He was in the hallway of their Kansas farmhouse when a flash of auburn practically collided with his chest. Lucy was winded, eyes wild, hands twisting his shirt in a frantic grip.

"Have you found him?! I just checked the treehouse - he's not there! Jeff, we need to find him before dark! It will be too late!!"

He grasped his wife's shoulders instinctively to calm her, but Lucy was adamant, stepping out of his embrace.

"New plan! I'll take the basement - you go on and check the barn! We need to find Scotty!"

With that she was gone, feet pounding down the stairs. He took his cue and went out to the old barn. It was empty. Dark was gathering in the corners, making the bits and pieces of equipment look distorted, grotesque. Menacing. He knew better than just to call the boy's name. Overwhelmed or upset, or tired - little Scooter could hide with the best of them. He searched the nooks and crannies, checked beneath the crates, then made his way to the back wall. It was then that he heard the scream. His son's voice, calling for him. Pleading for Dad's help from beyond the wall. Old wood turned to dark filthy bricks beneath his fists as he tried to let the boy know Dad was there. No matter how hard he flung himself against the wall - it didn't budge as the voice calling to Dad got fainter.]

***

He came to Lord Hugh and Casey propping him from both sides, helping to sit up. Val's gaze was full of worry and reprimand.

"Hey, Jeff! Easy! When was the last time you ate anything? Slept?"

He didn't have time for any such nonsense! Sleep or sustenance stopped being remotely meaningful concepts since they told him his son was dead. But now? He needed to be in a hurry! The vice grip on his friend's hand made the usually cast iron Lord wince. Jeff needed to get up and rush. He needed to go find his son! Before it was too late!

----

*Sometimes I headcanon Casey (and maybe Lee Taylor) might have been demoted a rank for participating in a very off the books (and maybe not entirely smooth) black op of getting Scott out of Bereznik captivity.

[fourteentrout]

I've seen so much discourse about who Elain is gonna end up with and elriel shippers being like she's not even attracted to Lucien!!! and elucien shippers being like she's repressing her true feelings for him!!! though I don't have a particularly strong stance on the ship war overall (I do have my opinions but they're not the point of this post), it did get me thinking like...why IS Elain so attracted to Azriel?

Because to me, it looks like Lucien is everything she would've dreamed of as a human. A gentlemanly courtier, very connected with nature, obviously attractive (I mean come on even Cassian thinks he's hot), thoughtful, courageous, loyal, social, a High Lord's son. Not to say that Azriel doesn't share some of these qualities, but like Lucien is practically the blueprint for who Elain would have been interested in. It makes sense that they're mates.

But she's not willing to even acknowledge him, nevermind pursue a romantic relationship with him. But she is willing to do so with Azriel. Rugged, mysterious, quiet, headstrong, dangerous Azriel.

Lucien has tried to bring her comfort just as much as Azriel, but she won't give him the time of day.

My theory is, maybe he reminds her of what she could have had. Of what she lost. A Lord's son, someone she thought would love her unconditionally, someone used to the galas and the politics and the high society life. Graysen may have been different from Lucien personality-wise, but maybe deep down, she's afraid that if she grows close with someone who has similar social and political standing as him, the same thing will happen again. Maybe it's easier to be attracted to someone who's so different from what she'd originally wanted than it is to go through the same thing she went through before, which ended up in heartbreak.

I'm not saying she ONLY cares for Azriel because of these reasons. But I think it could be an explanation as to why she's so adamant about not wanting to even get to know Lucien, when really he's an assemblage of all the qualities she would have previously looked for in a romantic partner.

[goatcheesecak3]

Dear Diary

From the pov of Adam Faulkner-Stanheight's mother

Warnings: missing person, grief

Fic type: angst

Summary: a diary entry told from the perspective of Adam's mother, as she struggles with the grief of losing her son

A/n hello!! Thought I would try something a bit different here! I got inspired by "strangers" by Ethel Cain, and a few lines from that song made me think of Adam's family, and how they might react to his disappearance.

Dear diary,

My therapist told me that keeping a diary might help me cope with what I'm going through, so I suppose that's what this is.

I feel awful silly talking to pen and paper, but if catharsis allows me to overcome my grief, perhaps it's worth a try.

My life changed forever six months ago, I remember it clear as day. I'd gone to the store just to pick up a few essentials, when I remembered that we were running low on milk. I headed to the diary aisle and picked up a carton. My heart froze in that moment, my legs gave out underneath me and I fell to the floor. I was unaware that a person could cry as hard as I did, let alone in the middle of a grocery store. I clutched that carton to my chest, as though it were my own baby- in a way it was. Printed on the side was a photograph of my beautiful son, Adam. He had been missing for a week or so by that point, apparently kidnapped from his own apartment. What a terrible way to discover that my baby boy was in trouble, I know we weren't the closest of families but he was my son! He still is, I hate to talk about him the past tense. I couldn't believe no one had contacted me or his father, but far worse, I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed his absence. We didn't speak as much as I would have liked us to, so it wasn't unusual for us to go weeks without a call. Of course, I tried his number several times a week, but he rarely picked up. Between me and you, diary, I think he was afraid of being scolded by George, his father.

George has been a wreck since the news. He always loved Adam, though he may not have been the most affectionate man. Even now, he hasn't cried, but he's become volatile and quick to anger, he drinks himself to sleep most nights. He says he's angry that Adam ever put himself in the position to get into trouble like this, but behind that rage is sadness. I can tell what really torments him is the fact that we let our boy down. We're angry at ourselves.

Adam was never one for church, as a child he would always throw fits at having to get up early on Sundays, and by his teens he would make sure to stay over at one of his friend's houses the night before, so that he wasn't present at the morning service. That being said, I'm sure the Lord understands that he's a good boy, he was just conflicted. Not to question the Lord's infinite wisdom, but he's the one who made Adam so strong willed, we can't punish him for questioning things, surely?

Lord, if you hear me, please bring my baby home. If I could swap places with him, I would in a heartbeat. Please keep my son safe and protected from evil. Please bring him home.

[byzantine-nectarine]

From an ancient homily for Holy Saturday:

The Lord's Descent Into The Underworld (attributed to Saint Epiphanius of Salamis) Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and He has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and Hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, He has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, He who is both God and the Son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the Cross, the weapon that had won Him the victory. At the sight of Him Adam, the first man He had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone, “My Lord be with you all.” Christ answered him, “And with your spirit.” He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying, “Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light. “I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by My own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in Hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the Life of the dead. Rise up, work of My hands, you who were created in My image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in Me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated. “For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden. “See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in My image. On My back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See My hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree. “I slept on the Cross and a sword pierced My side for you who slept in Paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in Hell. The sword that pierced Me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you. “Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly Paradise. I will not restore you to that Paradise, but I will enthrone you in Heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am Life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The Bridal Chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The Kingdom of Heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity."

[lordkingsmith]

Snippets of a coinlessverse Ollie/Jack fic I probably won’t write further than this, and this is probably a part one. The scenes trapped in my head rent free.

But @augment-techs @skyland2703 enjoy my brainrot with me XD

When Ollie had been captured with Aiyon, he’d assumed that would be it. He’d be tortured, degraded and if he was lucky allowed to just starve to death and expire with some dignity. Aiyon had gone by infection after they’d both been beaten to hell and back for information, so Ollie wasn’t too worried about that likelihood.

Even when Lord Drakkon graced Ollie and Aiyon’s cell, Ollie was still not worried about what was going to happen. Even if he assumed he was too low on the ladder of the Coinless for Drakkon to bother with him personally-stranger things had happened. Maybe he’d be made an example of. Annoying, but at least he’d be dead.

Instead Drakkon crouched to where he was sitting, curled in the corner as far away from the now rotting corpse of his ex as he could. The Dictator’s smile was chilling. Chipper to the point of mania. A gloved hand grabbed his face, forcing his head into different angles as his hands partially came up and clenched, trying not to resist. “You’re right.” He said to the two sentries filing in behind him. “He’s the right look. Dirty, but that’s fixable.” Ollie stared at him, confused now.

“Congratulations” Drakkon said gleefully. “On your new career and promotion! Do your empire proud” Ollie tried to bite him and his face was let go before he was slapped, the force sending him into the dirty floor. “Luckily for you, that biting habit is one of the reasons I need you.”

Ollie stared, cheek stinging like hell and felt an impending sense of doom. “Park, Skullovitch. Get him cleaned up. Tend to his wounds and make sure he actually looks like he’s eaten by the time they arrive. We only have three weeks.”

He turned his attention back to Ollie, eyes cold. “I’m going to make an offer you’re not going to be able to refuse.” Drakkon said. “And then I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do to earn it. And then you’re going with my head sentries to do what I tell you. Do you understand?”

Grid damn him, Ollie nodded.

-*-

Sitting in the room full of his mind controlled friends was, frankly, exhausting. Pretending this was fine, and he wasn’t bothered, and he was just as insane as they’d gone actually, was draining. Generally he could get away with letting the other four do their thing and be quiet and in the background; this had always been the group dynamic. It just got complicated when he had to balance that with also being his mother’s right hand beside Cygnus.

Night Swan, with the chosen one and his friends in tow, had made quick work of the other Danciverses. Corrupting or killing or simply capturing the rulers of each as she saw fit. She kept Traveler in her chambers, and Si’ha her personal guard, a swan soldier and unresponsive of the man who still loved her. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill herself on the orders of her mistress and neither would their son, and for that Traveler did what Night Swan told him.

Once Night Swan became self titled empress of the danciverses she decided perhaps it was time to turn her attention back to her birth reality. Unfortunately for her, someone else had already conquered it. Jack and Wanderlust had gone through some weeks ago with an unusually reserved Sara.

Drakkon was not someone even a mind controlled Sara wanted to deal with. Which was concerning to Jack, for a variety of reasons. Sara talked about him the same way she had before the corruption had twisted her. He was the only part of her past she held with the same fear and caution as before.

Making contact had been tense, to say the least. First was the initial meeting, then Night Swan inviting Drakkon and a few of his inner circle to Cygnus City. It’d sparked appearances of the Spectronizers, which had unfortunately led to the rumor Jack was head over heels for Adam Park.

To Jack’s utter chagrin Adam had a knack for almost discovering Jack’s involvement with the Spectronizers and the the rebellion against his own mother. The only way he could get Adam from realizing anything was borderline sexual harassment. However, it seemed to be what everyone expected, Night Swan included for intimidation tactics, so nobody thought twice.

Or so he’d hoped.

Being invited to the earth castle of Drakkon in his city for an extended stay had hit him like a suckerpunch. Despite his protests, he and Cygnus and Brezziana had been volunteered for an extended stay while Drakkon sent over three of his own. The night of their arrival had been a party, and thankfully he’d been surrounded by his friends during the depravity. Temporarily evil or not, having a buffer between himself and the activities of Drakkon’s court. He didn’t like drinking, or drugs. He didn’t like using someone’s body for his own amusement, sexual or otherwise.

He could, however, sit in the room while the other four made fun of it and commented on the human origami and food. Watching, nodding along, quietly looking for an excuse to leave without being rude. They’d been forced to dance for Night Swan and Drakkon when he’d come to their reality. Dancing the whole night until their feet bled and even Wanderlust was starting to hallucinate from fatigue. Jack wasn’t blind to the similarities, even while his friends couldn’t comment. He just braced himself waiting for it to be done.

The night of the first time he’d had to distract Adam Park by attempting to kiss him, he’d had a rare moment with Traveler. Traveler had been pulled out of Night Swan’s rooms for the time being. He looked completely haggard, and Jack had tried to offer him a drink. Might as well be completely black out to deal with the night. They watched Wanderlust, Mihaly, Sara, and Brezziana dance. “You should be there, protecting him.”

“I am.” He muttered. “I’m always protecting him.” He was here wasn’t he? Instead of leading the resistance in person and not with a pseudonym and secrecy? He was here, keeping Wanderlust safe, and alive and away from Night Swan. He was always making sure Wanderlust was the happy one in the situation. But no that wasn’t enough was it? It never was. “I talked her out of poles” he hissed, just to watch Traveler grimace. “I’m trying. Or do you want me brainwashed too? Then who’d help them? You?”

He shoved the drink into his father’s hand and walked away, suddenly needing to cool off. He was handling it. It wasn’t going the way he wanted but he was handling it. There was a problem with a mysterious “Coach Sunset” leading the rebellion, orange and red and dancing hope and chaos into the overrun danciverses.

And okay maybe that wasn’t the best way to do it; but he was working on it. He was! He was doing the best he knew how. Facing Night Swan head on never worked. Subterfuge had to be the way they could defeat his own mother.

Which had led to seeing one of the Spectronizers in Swan Tower conversing with Cygnus with a small drive of information, Adam almost running into the pink, and Jack throwing him against the wall so he didn’t see the two being suspicious. Stuttering out a flirtation and then pretending he was drunk and walking away. Too bad for him it kept happening.

As well as the interesting point of several of Drakkon’s army were now Swan Soldiers, due to badly executed espionage. This had led to them agreeing to a shaky sort of truce, and now here they all were. At this creepy party welcoming Jack Rose as a political hostage.

“C’mon, let’s see your room.” Wanderlust said finally, and Jack nodded gratefully. “This is just getting boring.” Yellow swan eyes swept over the party, glancing over Jack among the throng, uncaring and unimpressed. Jack wanted to shake his little brother. It wouldn’t fix the spell problem but it’d make him feel better.

They went as a group, walking among the mostly empty halls. Sara swung her arms around Jack’s neck, giggling. “Are you ever impressed by anything?”

“The city is impressive” he offered her, hands fisted into his suit pockets. “Maybe I’ll find more to be impressed by the longer I’m here.” She pouted before pinching his cheek and waggling his face back and forth. “Prude. You liked some of Drakkon’s sentries. None of that impressed you huh.”

“I-” he cleared his throat. “They didn’t strike me as having fun? I’d rather be in a place where everyone is having a good time. But” he rolled his eyes. “Yes the naked bodies looked nice, get off now.”

She did, giggling meanly when he rubbed his stinging cheek. He liked her better when she wasn’t…a little witch. Brezziana pointed at their rooms, happily located near each other. And the two sentries next to the doors. Jack groaned low in his throat when his took his helmet off.

Mihaly laughed. “A boy toy closer to your age!” They told him as he could only smile weakly at them, and the guard. His was a red sentry who could almost be Adam’s son, and Brezziana’s was a yellow, a young woman. He could scream.

“Lord Drakkon wishes to show his hospitality” the yellow said. “We’re here as your guards, guides, and whatever else you could need.” Said the young woman. “I’m Rose”

“And what’s your name?” Wander asked after a long moment, smiling wolfishly at the red. The man’s eyes narrowed and Wanderlust laughed. “Oh you’ve got a spicy one Jack!”

He lunged, forcing the red to step back. “Oh how adorable. He’s trembling.” Jack pushed past Wanderlust and the others with a sigh.

“What’s your name?” He asked quietly.

“Ollie. Ollie Akana.” Jack nodded. “Lord Drakkon wanted to make sure no-one here could want for anything.” Jack patted Ollie’s head.

“I’m going to bed” he said, reaching past the sentry. “Alone. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Brezziana snickered. “What the younger model not doing it for you?”

“I just don’t like having sex after parties” he decided on before opening the door and slipping inside. He eyed Ollie watching him almost helplessly, and at the other three looking at Ollie and Rose like they were steak. He gestured for Ollie to come in. “You can guard me better if you’re actually with me.” He decided. Sit by the windows, watch the door.”

When they were both safe inside Jack began undoing his feather capelet. “I know you’re here to spy on me.” He said with a shrug. “So ferry this back to your Lord. I really am sorry about Adam.” He grimaced. “That was incredibly inappropriate.”

“It happened six times!”

“I’ve decided I’m going to not drink anymore. It was a problem, but alcohol is currently off the table. So no more problem.” Jack said after a moment of blanking. “Now. Good night, sentry Akana.” He toed off his shoes and fell face first into the bed, nearly immediately out to the world.

-*-

“Ollie, do you even…like men?” Jack asked, half naked and watching Ollie intensely. Ollie swallowed wrong in quick succession, processing the question and the twining tattoos along Jack’s arms and shoulders. Next thing he knew Jack’s chest was to his back and his fists were wedged under Ollie’s ribs. It didn’t really help. Eventually the sandwich piece dislodged from Ollie’s throat and Jack went from heimleck to hug, wrapping his arms around Ollie’s waist and burying his face in Ollie’s neck as Ollie gasped for air. Olly elbowed him in the stomach when he was able.

“You almost kill me with your question and then just hug me half naked, huh?”

Jack let go, though reluctantly. “It’s not-I’m just glad I didn’t kill you on accident.”

Ollie turned to him, slowly. “I don’t think my preferences matter, here.”

Jack scowled and folded his arms. “They do to me. And I want to know how to treat you. Friend or…” he trailed off, shook his head and tried to walk past Ollie. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” Ollie grabbed Jack around his waist, the ensuing small struggle sending them both tumbling onto the bed. Jack pinned under Ollie, and Ollie staring intently down at him.

“Could always kiss me” Ollie said. “See if either of us like it.” Jack grabbed the helmet off the nightstand and nearly slammed it onto Ollie’s head. Jack patted the helmet like he would Ollie’s cheek as he slid away from the arms.

“Poor thing” he murmured. “Shaking like a leaf” Jack snatched his shirt off the end of the bed and looked at Ollie still standing there, feeling shellshocked and stupid.

“I don’t know.” Ollie said. “What I like. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Ollie Akana” Jack was business like as he began sliding into his suit jacket. “You’re here because your boss wants you to get every secret they can wring out of me. Unfortunately for you I was raised by my mother. You think seduction isn’t something she did? She chose partners based on what they could give her.”

Jack sighed. “So what did Drakkon promise you for fucking me. That’s more important to me.” Ollie felt his cheeks go blazing hot.

“Nothing!” He snapped. “Why do you even care.” Jack shrugged.

“If it’s nothing I guess I don’t. C’mon, I want to see more of the city. Show me around.”

Ollie stared at Jack, who stared at him coolly back before nodding curtly. “Yes, sir.”

-*-

Jack kept the spectronizer orange helmet on as Ollie and the other sentries stared at him, along with the duplicate he’d made before slipping out for the night. Thank the flow, too. He had the urge to grab his little sentry, but saluted them and took off running instead. He had a bag full of medicine pulled directly from Drakkon’s personal med wing, and he knew exactly where to take them.

The only song he could think of was in the hall of the mountain king as thousands of sentries took off behind him. Jack bounced off walls, spun in dance steps and kick flips while protecting the precious goods he’d nicked. Once the Coinless and the Dancers had met, there’d been a synchronized effort to help each other. And ‘Coach Sunset’ was in the perfect place to aid both groups. Orange streaked just ahead of a horde of yellow, red and black. Sunset indeed.

He was close to one of the small side doors to one of the many gardens when a hand pulled him into a small alcove. The helmets were the only things keeping Jack and Ollie from being nose to nose. “Who are you?”

“Spectronizer Orange”

“Got balls, stealing from in the castle itself. What makes you think I shouldn’t go get Drakkon?”

Jack was speechless and he clutched the bag tighter. “There are sick people in the Coinless. Even you-”

“This is for the Coinless?” Jack nodded. Ollie sighed. “Follow me, orange.”

There was a small hole in an evidentially forgotten courtyard. Jack stared at it, and looked back to Ollie.

“Me and-a friend. Used it to get in for medicine.” Ollie said. “He died. I never told them how, and it looks like they never figured it out.”

“When was this? How are you here? Is there anyone I can tell you’re alright?”

Ollie shook his head. “Drakkon offered something I couldn’t refuse. It was a little before that prince and his friends showed up from the dance world” a snort. “And no. Aiyon was the last person who’d care. Plus. I’m sort of a traitor so.”

Jack reached out to Ollie, thought better of it, and used the escape offered. Though he made himself stop and turned back. “Jack Rose…the prince…he works with us.” He said, hoping this information wouldn’t be somehow ferried to Drakkon. “He’s how I got in. You can help us by helping him.” And then he was gone, leaving Ollie in the courtyard.

When he snuck back in as Jack, Ollie was dozing by the window. Jack brushed hair from his face before flinging himself onto the bed, back to Ollie.

Ball was in his court, as was the very real possibility Jack had somehow gotten into a love triangle with himself. He wouldn’t know any of it till he came to it, and with nothing else he could do, he fell asleep.

[imperatorcaesaraugustus]

folks, you know it, you love it, it's time for another ThoughtD: Thoughts on HotD, where i give my thoughts on HotD. episode 2, season 2, let's get into it

i don't think i mentioned last week how much i really liked aegon in that episode. i continue to like him in this episode, really solid performance

i also really liked Helaena this episode, i could really feel what she was going through

ser criston is bad and i'm glad he feels bad

Rhaenyra is also really good this episode. last episode mostly just had her in grief searching for her son, but i'm glad to see more of her this episode. Emma D'arcy pulls of regal really well

the Daemon we get in this episode feels like a really solid characterization. last season felt a little disjointed i think with the writers' view of Daemon seeming to sometimes conflict with how he actually came across, but this episode it felt like it sort of clicked

Harwyn Strong gets more characterization in this episode than he did in all of season one

"Corlys likes to be dominated by his wife" is probably the least surprising thing i could have found out about him. you don't marry Rhaenys Targaryen if you don't want your wife telling you what to do

i cannot emphasize enough how much i despise criston cole. the way he projects his own failings onto Ser Arryk in order to manipulate him into going to dragonstone is fucking vile

i don't like Aemond. i don't super feel sorry for him either even with the things he's gone through. and i don't really understand why he's so popular (even though i know exactly why he's so popular) (this is not an invitation to explain to me why you like Aemond i don't want to hear it)

Adam of Hull!

i'm curious to see how they plan on getting Hugh from King's Landing to Dragonstone for the Sowing of the Dragonseeds

Cargyllbowl was great, everything i could have hoped for from that

Ser Otto is such a fucking politician and it's disgusting but i can't help but love the guy every time he gets exasperated by Aegon

DAERON MENTION! DAERON TARGARYEN EXISTS IN THE SHOW!

"i have sinned" "i don't want to hear about it" yeah, of course you don't Otto, good lord

i just want to state once again, for the record, that i hate criston cole

overall i really liked this episode