#metal slug series

[n64retro]

Metal Slug Advance Noise Factory / SNK Playmore Game Boy Advance 2004

[juanjoaiaf]

Metal Slug Tactics [PC]. Mis primera partida en este juego.

[savingcontent]

Metal Slug Tactics Review

Metal Slug is a name that conjures memories of outrageous bosses, run-and-gun action, and enough explosions to rival a Michael Bay film festival. For decades, this SNK side-scrolling arcade franchise has been a beloved staple for fans seeking a chaotic, cathartic dose of shoot-em-up mayhem. Metal Slug Tactics is such a departure for the series, though it’s not the first time the series has…

[xboxissues]

Coming to Xbox Game Pass Early November 2024

[twohitgames]

Metal Slug Tactics exhibe un nuevo diario de desarrollo

Hoy se ha publicado un nuevo diario de desarrollo de Metal Slug Tactics, una adaptación al estilo RPG táctico del clásico atemporal Metal Slug de SNK. El equipo clave de la editora Dotemu y de la desarrolladora Leikir Studio se unen a los veteranos desarrolladores de SNK para reflexionar sobre los cimientos de la franquicia, así como sobre la nueva y audaz visión de Metal Slug Tactics, se lanzará…

[heronetworkgg]

Metal Slug Attack Reloaded: El icónico juego de defensa de torres llega a consolas y PC

En un movimiento que ha emocionado a los fanáticos de los juegos retro y los entusiastas de la estrategia, SNK Corporation ha lanzado Metal Slug Attack Reloaded, reviviendo la legendaria franquicia como un innovador juego de defensa de torres. Esta versión actualizada de Metal Slug Attack, que se estrenó inicialmente en iOS y Android en […]

Ir a la noticia completa

[marioclash]

ya know for someone who is fucking terrible at games with any kind of difficulty i sure do like trying difficult games

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (special chapter!)

alastor w/ angel daughter reader

(notes: This special chapter gives us another glimpse at Alastor's relationship with his only daughter, you, and how unique his parenting skills are. Currently set in the 30s where you two are still living and breathing so far.)

( Welcome back to my fellow angel baby readers! Also much welcome to any newcomers!

Here is a new chapter for my alastor and daughter series, I know it's been such a long while and I understand if a lot of you have moved on qwq I did take quite awhile so I can't blame you. But school finally ended and it's summer! I have much more time on my hands now! If thee are people still interested I'm totally willing to focus my time on updating!

Thank you so much for staying tuned! Let's start then shall we!)

(caution: alastor being manipulative(?), more or so cruel, he makes you cry :( )

(Tags: @maksdust @willowwillflower @sunshinesetsstuff @0willowwisp0 @projectdreamwalker @1potato2rulethemall @just-here-reading @avitute @pooplyface1423 @insomniacfigure @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 @sirenetheblogger @potaturkey17 @barrythestrawberry041)

(p.s. NOT PROOFREAD, I also apologize if the pacing and writing is a bit weird qwq I have written in awhile so I'm slightly rusty..!)

It was yet another particular day in the 30s of New Orleans.

Word of mouth of politics, money, entertainment.. everything was nothing but as normal as it could possibly be for a seventeen year old girl.

You woke up to the sound of soft birds chirping yet soon being covered by human made sounds like chatter and metal clanking. You fixed yourself up once you got out of your puffy bed that kept you in sweet dreams each night.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you fixed your chosen outfit for the day, a small smile cheering yourself up at how you felt a soft gleaming feeling in your chest.

'today will be a good day.' you thought.

...

Something was missing, there was a little gleam of excitement that you couldn't wait for.

You could start it anytime soon but-- it felt wrong.. it was wrong.

'maybe later, I can wait much later...'

Walking out of your bedroom and down the hall, passing by your father's study and your family bathroom ended up in between the kitchen and living area, your nose led you down to the kitchen.

It was a fairly early morning but your nose could smell your father's presence despite him leaving half an hour ago, your feet tapped against the hardwood floors as you went up to the stove with your eyes also noticing a note with writing on it on the counter beside the heating appliance.

Eyes flicked between the warm pot on the stove and the note, your nose took another long whiff of the comforting aroma to be a dish you absolutely love to have in the mornings.

Your hands went on to pick up the note and raised it up for your eyes to see, your father's neat and sophisticated writing made you smile as you started to read:

'Good morning my dove, I do hope you had the sweetest of dreams last night. I know you over exerted yourself the other day and I just hope you aren't slugging like a sloth this morning!-'

Giggling slightly, you continued reading.

'Nevertheless, I made you your favorite before I left off to work. Don't forget to tune in soon!

Love, Father Dearest.'

Right.. his radio show will be on soon!..

You smiled as you folded the note and tugged in into a small pocket/spot on your person before going on to plate yourself breakfast that your dad made and getting a glass of your preferred drink before skimming past the dining table to eat on the living room.. you weren't exactly allowed to eat here but it's not like your father was here to scold you.

Carefully yet hurriedly sliding your glass and plate on the small coffee table your father recently bought to 'bring more life to the house'. You would then scramble up to the home radio and flick with it for a bit until you finally reached your father's signal.

Turning up the volume to hear it loud and clear you proceeded to go back to your break fast and set yourself nicely.

A small opening of music played, his show's theme was a tune you knew by heart and you never missed a day where you wouldn't hum it to yourself.

"Good morning New Orleans!"

Cheered a familiar voice, your own responding back to him despite you fully knowing that he cannot hear you at all.. yet a part of you knows that to a certain extent he knows you're very much present.

"Morning papa!" you smiled as your father's voice continued on to start his daily morning schedule. You proceeded to pick up your eating utensil to start eating.

"This is Alastor! Your favorite radio host here to join you on today's morning broadcast to start off your day with the latest news and weather! Today it's described to be of a nice warm sunny day with little to no clouds, yet it is said to get very chilly once the sun starts to set. So prepare those coats and scarves ladies and gentlemen!-"

You took note of the weather for today, remembering that you needed to have a fire on in the fireplace by the time father came back as well.. he’d probably arrive cold.

He continued on talking about small updates on politics but more or so on the music and entertainment industry, maybe even a little bit of 'gossip' talk about famous figures in pop culture at the time.. talking about latest trends and such.. you sorta admired that about him.. you ate your breakfast whole as you listening to him while sometimes he faded into background noise here and there.

During both your times alive, Alastor always kept up with the latest rages and knew as much as he could about the most recent fads while he was kicking it, even as he raised you he somehow always kept up with all these details.. it was almost fascinating.

Speaking of fads..

You couldn't help but frown slightly.. you were home alone, you could just sneak a peek and father wouldn't know.. but guilt ate at you.

'..I'll do it after chores.. ' you thought.

You finally finished your food and drink and placed your glass and silverware on your empty plate, prepared to pick it up and take it to the sink until you couldn't help but listen to him a little longer until his broadcast ended, which should come to a break segment.

You sat on the sofa and rested your arms and head against the arm of the furniture, feeling slightly full and a bit sleepy from what you ate but in the end it was all worth it.

You let out a huff of air from your lungs out your mouth, the sigh full and heavy.

Your father's voice deafened slightly as your eyes closed for a few seconds, your mind wandering off to your current life and how you were mostly content with everything.

Mostly everything.

You were mostly satisified with your life, you were happy. How couldn't you? You have a warm home, a bed, food, a caring father, caring friends-

Well..

Everything minus the friends.

Sure, you have befriended a few people but your father never let you ever hang with anyone your age. Ever since you no longer needed babysitters, you would lack communication with young people such as yourself.

It was nice that a few people around your age recongnized you as being your father's daughter, you enjoyed people seemingly knowing you off the bat simply because of who raised you but.. father would constantly deter you away from befriending others.

According to him, because of your connection to him there could be people in the world who want to do you wrong.. of course you believed him, you never really knew any better.

Sometimes the loneliness kicks in, you yearn to befriend those similar to you and to have the life of the average ordinary teenager.

But father wouldn’t let that, not for a second.

That is- of course if he never finds your hidden teen fashion magazi--

“And to my lovely daughter, ______, who must be leisurely resting at home.”

Your eyes opened up as your head perked up at the mention of your name. Your heart skipped a beat—

“Ughhh.. daaadd!..” embarrassment creepep up your neck into your cheeks, highlighting the red in your face while you groaned and shoved yo ur face back into the arm rest.

“Don’t forget that we’ll be heading out soon! Get your shoes and coat ready! Don’t forget, father loves you dearly!

And with that, our morning broadcast concludes as the afternoon is now setting. Don’t miss out on our evening broadcast where we’ll be singing a few gentle tunes to soften your night!”

Right.. it’s been a few short hours. You always wondered how your father could never stop talking or run out of words while on air, another talent of his you supposed.

You sighed as you dragged your arms and legs to pick up your dirty dishes, head back to the kitchen and clean them up before father came home.

Oh! And you almost forgot— you also went to set up that small fire in your home’s fireplace. It was rather easy for you to install, you’ve done it many times. Alastor wouldn’t let you do this unless he knows to trust you well and that you know exactly how to do it without burning yourself or the house down.. so you did this part without a hitch.

Even let your arms warm up to the soft ever glowing flames as well..

You knew that he was now wrapping things up with his coworkers and heading back home so you sped slightly so you would be able to get ready on time.

Once you were done you checked the time,

‘1:51..’

You read on the nearby clock, father gets here at exactly 2:00 at most times.

You stood there for a minute, pondering if you should scratch that hidden itch to the back of your head or if you should patiently wait.

But you’ve been waiting since yesterday to look at it..

Should you risk it??..

"One second wouldn't hurt.." you mumbled to yourself, and just like that you were gone in a flash into your room.

You sped so fast to the point that you almost stumbled slightly as you tried to carefully slide down to your knees and your head peeking under your large and heavy dresser.

Your hand reached under and moved side to side with your fingers trying to grip onto the familiar texture of flimsy paper-

"Aha!-"

You exclaimed as you felt your fingers curl around the sudden sound of crunchy paper.

Pulling it out you were met with three various magazines that you saw around the shops as the ideal fashion magazines for teen girls such as yourself.

You remember how you wanted one before but father says that it's not appropriate for a 'pure and gentle soul' such as yourself.

Oh boy if only he knew you had them now.. he’d absolutely go bananas! He would never let you out to get groceries again!

You quickly flipped through the first few pages of the first magazine, it's thin pages full of color and various designs of trendy clothes, accessories, make-up, hair, even love and school advice here and there.

Heck- even the celebrity photos caught your full attention, stars like Clara Bow, Louis Brooks, Anita Page, Madge Bellamy, Jean Harlow, Constance Bennett.. the list could go on forever!

It captivated you, making you curious of the outside world.

You stopped at a certain page, one where you purposefully bent the corner of the page as to remember the spot you wanted to go back to.

It was a particular piece of clothing, one that was all the rage. You stared at it for a bit in admiration and yearning.. you wished father would let you wear something like that. It was that unique shape, style, color/pattern, accessories and other smaller details that simply made you want to wear!

You slowly flipped the page over to the back, a part of the magazine you haven't yet explored, and your eyes widened.

'Call ****! And get your free order of this piece's sewing pattern straight to your home as to make it yourself at home with your own unique choice of fabric, colors, and/or patterns! CALL NOW!'

"No.. way.." you mumbled breathlessly, the sudden realization hitting your head like a broken wine glass to a skull.

Free sewing pattern?.. make it at home?? This is just a GAS! Perhaps you could order it and while making it you could most definitely tweak it a bit!.. to make it into something father would approve of or even let slide!

"I.. I've GOT to get this!-"

Before you knew it you were yet again scrambling on your feet to run towards the living room to the telephone with your magazine in hand, excitement rushing into your veins up your face as you now knew what you had to do!

"With the patterns maybe I can make it myself! make it my own!.."

Your hands esthetically rested the magazine with the number attached on the table the telephone rested on and you quickly started to dial the numbers to the device one by one. You awaited eagerly..

"Cmon cmon.. pick up pick up..!"

...

"Hello this is Everygirls Magazine, what can I help you with?"

"H..Hello! I—“

The phone was snatched right from your hand, you still tried to reach for it due to confusion but then realized who it was that took the phone from your hand.

"Hello there! My apologies for the disturbance-" rang Alastor's voice, sweetly apologizing to whomever was on the other side of the line.

"-but we accidentally dialed the wrong number. Thank you!"

Alastor gently placed the phone back on it's stand, in an almost threatening type of way.

There was silence, your father stared at the magazine before slowly picking it up. You couldn't bear to look at his face, not with that smile you were sure was plastered across.

Minutes passed that felt like hours, the silence was deafening with the only thing cutting it was the sound of paper rustling.

"Father.. " you mumbled, your hands curled and resting onto your chest in slight fear "Are you.. alright?.."

With no words he turned towards the hall, his steps sharp and loud as if confirming his presence and his title in the house.

He was going straight to your room.

"Father?... Father!.." you rushed to follow him, lagging a bit behind him. "Father where are y--"

You couldn't help but softly gasp as you saw him walk into your room and bend down to grab the rest of the magazines to take a closer look. He did all this without saying a word-- and that smile never faltered either.. not for a second.

He flipped through the pages a bit erratically but eventually just clenched the thin booklets in his right hand before suddenly walking up to you and grabbing your wrist with his left. He dragged you with a sudden uncharacteristically harsh and aggressive demeanor.

He was getting tired of your growing rebelliousness. He hated it.

Why couldn't you just listen?.. he was trying to keep you safe! In how own way!

"Father!.. hey!-- that hurts!--"

“Listen here young lady.”

Alastor’s voice was stern and commanding, as if intending to intimidate you.

And it did, you stood there in disbelief and fear.. yet you haven’t fully realized that the both of you were now in front of the fireplace. Its flames dancing, waiting.

“There will be absolutely no secrets under my roof, no misuse of your allowance, no misuse of your time outside that you are more than privileged to have." He was angry, fuming even despite the vaguely cool tone he tried to emit--yet..

His smile, was still there.

As if he was mocking you..

"I told you many, many times that these magazines are full of garbage only intended to rot your head with silly and useless ideas.."

You feared him.

"You've been disobeying me more than I hoped. you're rotting from the inside--"

what.

"Father--"

It wasn't until you saw him turn only to throw your magazines into the fireplace, tossing them mercilessly as he knew you'd watch with distraught eyes.

Tears were brimming in your eyes, your hands held together against your chest as to hold back any sobs.

To him they were just magazines, to you was everything you wanted to know and more.

"I'd hate to do this to you little dove, but no daughter of mine will get consumed by filth that'll decay your pure little mind."

His neck snapped quickly towards you, making you jump slightly and how fast and abrupt it did so.

"Do you understand, dear?"

You opened your mouth to speak but to your dismay nothing came out, but you cried.

Just cried, without warning the tears you tried so hard to hold back just spilled out the moment there was silence after his last sentence.

Your hands snaked up to your face to cover your eyes and tears from being more visible than it already is.

"Oh, darling. Shh.. no need to cry.." Alastor said, you heard his footsteps come closer and you couldn't help but have your shoulders stiff up when you felt his arms go around your shoulders, one of his hands gently patting your head as if trying to soothe you.

After destroying your things.

Even while speaking, you could hear him smiling.. you just knew he was.

"I saved you, little dove. You truly have the world's greatest father.."

(THANK YOU FOR READING THIS SPECIAL CHAPTER OF MY ANGEL BABY!!! AAAAAAAA thank you sososos much! for anyone who's still reading this now thank you so much for looking for my pics yet again and thank you to anyone new for checking this out! much thanks! I once again apologize for the lack of proofreading this time and any other potential issues, I'll try my very best to get back in the zone!

I hope to see you in the next chapter of My Angel Baby! Where we will continue with it's current story in hell and the usual format of the flashbacks at the end as a treat, bye bye!!)

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6 K Warnings: none. Prompt: Classes have started, how will the new relationship fare with the upcoming normalcy? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 65: Spell Binder

Thursday 13th, 1977

“Please take your seats,” Flitwick said as more and more students started to fill in the room. This time around you sat in your usual place next to Remus. Once most students had taken their spots, he climbed up his small podium and smiled. “Now, we had quite an issue last class, and I completely forgot about your essays. Please leave them on my desk by the end of the class…” 

There was a choir of groans, you turned to Lily with a smile, as you showed her that this time around you had finished the essay and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head and smiled, mouthing something like “cheat” as she looked at you. 

You gave her a pout and mouthed “I saved you ass, you should be thanking me,” back at her. She raised her eyebrows in amusment and you just smiled, covering your face and coughing to mask your barely contained laughter.

“What’s that about?” Remus asked as he leaned closer to you and offered you some water from a metal bottle. 

“Lily hadn’t done her homework, last class,” you explained. “We saved her.” Remus smiled at your words, leaning a little closer to you as he pulled your inkpot to the centre of the table since he’d forgotten his own.

“Professor, I’m afraid I cannot hand in my essay,” said Tom, who was sitting just behind you and Remus. 

“Did you forget it?” 

“No sir, I made it. But the toads ate it as we were leaving the classroom.” 

“The��� Toads ate it?”  the professor asked unsure. 

You bit the side of your cheek to avoid laughing and felt Remus nudge you with his elbow and give you a warning look. If you giggled, Flitwick wouldn’t buy it. 

“Mine too,” said Sirius as he sent a quick wink at Tom and pulled out a completely torn piece of paper from under the table. “Couldn’t salvage it at all.” 

“How the fuck…” you mouthed as you looked at his piece of paper. 

“The Toads?” asked Flitwick again. 

“Perhaps it’s the type of Toads?” said Marlene. “They did look quite hungry…” 

That was perhaps the one thing that made actual sense, you thought. If the water spirit had been hungry, and although you’d taken precautions to trap the toads with some food, it made sense that they’d be hungry after being there for so long. 

“Yeah, mine too!” Added someone else from the back. 

“And mine.” 

Flitwick shook his head “All right, all right. Whoever lost their homework due to the toad incident, may bring it to my office tomorrow, you will be graded as if you had handed it in on time. Those who hand it in today will get a bonus point on your overall grade. Sounds fair?” 

“Yes, thank you, professor!” Said Tom with a smile. 

“Thank you,” added Sirius, placing the torn piece of paper back in his bag. 

“Now that that’s out of the picture, let’s talk a little bit of charms. Is there a charm or potion that could have caused the toad incident?” 

“Well, there’s the summoning charm?” Said Michael, the same Hufflepuff whose Fireworm had exploded the day before. 

“Could a summoning charm summon that many toads?” Asked Flitwick.

“Perhaps if they had been clustered together before? With a binding spell of some sort?” proposed Imogen. 

“That could have been it, if the toads had appeared only in one castle and not all over the castle. Unless there was a student summoning toads in each room,” James reasoned.

“Duplication charm?” 

“Or maybe a time-turner?” Said Imogen. 

“Those are way too hard to get,” said Sirius as he shook his head. You threw him a look and he shrugged. Something told you he’d tried. 

“What about a modified Slug-vomiting charm?” Asked Terix –short for Asterix– another Hufflepuff. 

“Did you see anyone vomiting the toads?” asked Michael who was sitting beside him. 

“Well no– but…” 

“I know! Frog-spawn soap!” said Mary.  “Has to be that, right?” 

“But that only works with water,” argued Michael. 

“Well, there was a lot of water,” you said, almost as a throwaway comment. 

“Flooding spell plus frogspawn soap?” Said Remus. “Makes sense.” 

“What about a gemino curse?” asked a Hufflepuff boy whom you’d never heard talk from the back. He was shy and often had either a book or a notebook in his hand. 

“The toads were different,” said Dora (also a Hufflepuff) kindly. “Had it been gemino they would have all been the same.” 

“How do you know they were different?” asked Michael, “They all looked the same to me.” 

“They were definitely different,” insisted the girl. She had bright green hair, which is why some people accused her of being part mermaid. “Some had spots and others didn’t. And they had different hues of green too.” 

“Different hues of green?” Terix inquiered. 

“Plenty of them,” she answered with a nod. 

“Mr. Lupin, what do you think could have happened?” Flitwick asked, cutting the previous line of reasoning. 

“The soap and flooding spell sounds possible,” he said with a shrug. 

“Whatever it might have been,” said James a little loud. “Thank Merlin it happened, we had a fantastic day!” 

“Except for the Fireworms,” said Imogen. 

“Except for the tragic loss of the fireworms,” agreed Prongs solemnly. 

“So that means all we need to do to find the culprit is figure out who bought ridiculous amounts of Frog Spawn Soap at Zonko’s?” you asked with a shrug. It was delightful to have the chance to drive the investigation away from you and the boys and towards a dead end. 

“They could have bought only one and used gemino on it?” said Michael. 

“Would that make everyone who’s bought Frog Spawn Soap a suspect?” Asked Sirius with a devious smile. 

“Not everyone can use gemino, it’s a 7th-year spell!” said Terix. 

“But I’ve seen 4th years do it,” said Remus casually. “Vix knows too,” he added as he pointed at you. 

“Kind of,” you lied. “Still trying to get the hand of it,” you corrected. 

Flitwick smiled at the fact that you’d attempted to learn such a complicated spell. The kind of smile that was both proud but also not too surprised about it, as that was something normal to expect from you –which perhaps it was, at least a little bit. 

“So it narrows it down to everyone who’s able to use gemino and bought Frog Spawn Soap,” said Imgoen, trying to both recap and divert the attention away from you. She had no evidence that you’d been involved in the prank, but she didn’t have any doubts either, it was also the kind of thing you would have done –provided that the boys got you wrapped up in it, and you had been with them most of the Christmas Break. 

“What if they bought the Frog Spawn Soap elsewhere? We were all on the break, could have bought it at any prank shop of the country –heck– they could have even bought it abroad.” 

 “Yeah, there is no way we track down the culprit if they got it abroad, right professor?” asked Mary.

“Unfortunately, if it was frog spawn soap there is no way for us to discover who caused the infestation –If it really was a student that made it happen…” 

“What do you mean by that? You think it might have been Peeves?” asked Dora Johnson. 

“Although that was a theory initially, we’ve talked to Peeves, he maintains it wasn’t him.” 

“And you believe a poltergeist?” asked Tim sceptically. 

“Peeves often takes pride of his pranks, he wouldn’t hide it was him with this one, since it was quite successful,” replied James politely, but also matter-of-factly. Peeves had never taken the credit for any of the marauder’s pranks. 

“Indeed he is, thank you Mr. Potter,” nodded Flitwick. “But that wasn’t exactly what I meant with it having been caused by a student. 

“Then what did you?” 

“I guess this would be more of a History of Magic class, or History of Hogwarts…” He looked up and then around. “Does anybody have that book around at the moment?” 

“Hogwarts: A History?” asked Beth. 

“Precisely.” 

“I think I’ve got it,” Lily said as she dug her hand into her bag and pulled out a considerably thick book. “I’m working on an essay for my optative,” she explained when the entire class looked at her like she was a unicorn. Well, everyone except for James, who was looking at her in his usual manner –heart eyes, almost a little dumbed out, totally oxytocin-filled. 

“No need to explain yourself, Miss Evans,” said Flitwik with a simple nod. She gave him a lopsided smile in return. “Please open page 157.” 

Lily frowned as she looked at him but did as told. Marlene sitting beside her, leaned over Lily’s shoulder too. “Hogwart’s self Mantainance?” 

“Indeed, indeed,” the teacher replied with a nod. “Please the first paragraph Miss. Mackinnon.” 

“Hogwarts is a complex magical structure, and even if Salazar, Godric, Helga and Rowena planned for the house elves to do most of the cleaning, there were still other things that had to be taken care of. After a lot of talking, the four founders ended up designing an incredibly complex system for the self-maintenance for the school. About 4,000 spells were cast all over, some of them imbued with ancient spells we don’t use anymore…” 

“Yes! Yes! That’s right,” Flitwick said as Marlene’s reading slowly died down. “And you see, many of said spells are a complete mystery. Some have recorded them, some are recurring, but others are a total enigma, and happen every hundreds of years. When I was a student, for an entire week the school smelled funny. Some of the portraits explained every two or three hundred years the students complained about that funny smell, like rotten eggs. Upon some research, we discovered it was a rather specific charm to keep undesirable magical creatures at bay. 

“And while the toads have never been recorded, who’s to say it wasn’t some kind of charm? Perhaps a pest control of some kind…” 

“So you think It’s some kind of ancient continence charm?” Asked Tom with a sly smile. 

“Well, it’s a theory, indeed.” 

“If you think about it, it makes sense,” said Dora. “Toads are always eating insects and stuff… which makes them great for controlling small pests. And the toads did look quite hungry.” 

“Precisely Miss. Johnson,” nodded Fltwick as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Even when there’s been no record of it happening before?” asked Terix. 

“Well…” said Marlene as she flipped through the pages. “There weren’t any records of the total blackout of the 50s, they only figured out it had been part of the maintenance because somebody found the spell in a book years later.” 

“Does that mean many other weird things like the toads could happen?” Asked Michael. 

“They are quite rare…” you said, as you peeked over to Lily’s table. Remus gave you a look and pulled you back towards your spot when he thought you were going to fall. “Thanks,” you muttered as you turned to him and softly pinched the side of his arm. It was a way to say ‘love you’ when you couldn’t quite squeeze his hand or press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Indeed, you should consider yourselves lucky that you witnessed such a historic event,” the professor said solemnly. 

“Right we are!” said James. “History! We witnessed History!” 

It’s not that James was saying it in an ironic manner or anything similar, if anything he seemed just as excited as Flitwick. But it was because you knew his roll in the prank that his words seemed so hilarious. Rather than laughing, though, you coughed a couple of times and then drank a little bit of water to calm your nerves. 

“Way to be discrete about it Vixen,” said Prongs as the three of you walked towards your next class. 

“You weren’t much better,” you said with a laugh. “We should be thankful, we’ve witnessed history,” you added in a high-pitched tone while waving your hands in the air dramatically. 

“I don’t sound like that at all!” he complained. 

“You kind of do!” you teased, and he threw a few peanuts he was munching on towards you.

“James, don’t be so wasteful, please,” Lily chided, she had just caught up with all of you. 

“Right, sorry, Luv,” he said as he turned to look at her, and took from her shoulders to carry it himself. 

You and Remus exchanged a diverted glance, and then Lily turned to you with a small smirk and a wink. You raised your eyebrows as you looked at her –she had a very smug expression going on at this point and you lagged behind just enough to blow her a kiss without James noticing (then he would have known she didn’t really mean it about being wasteful, but rather was defending you). 

“Oi! Hands off my peanuts, Padfoot!” he said as he snapped the other boy’s hand. 

“Our Peanuts, Prongs,” said Sirius with a casual shrug as he plopped one of them into his mouth. “This is a communist society.” 

“Communist my ass, I had to bribe the house elves for this ones!” 

“You what?” Lily asked as he turned to him in shock. 

“By ‘bribe’, he just means he goes down to the kitchen and asks them nicely,” Peter explained. 

“Well yeah, but they didn’t want to give them up because they needed them for some the Chicken Stay.” 

“Satay,” corrected Sirius. 

“What?” 

“It’s Chicken Satay, not Chicken Stay.” 

“Wait, really?” James asked as he turned to him, clearly confused. Sirius took that as an opportunity to take a few more peanuts. He moved the handful behind your back, which Remus took after a graceful movement that you hadn’t had the luck to witness. 

“Yeah,” you said, to keep his eyes away from the bag. Lily rolled her eyes at the entire interaction, but she had a happy smile on her face as she watched how well the three of you worked together, like the finest wristwatch, each gear working in tandem to tell the right time. “You didn’t know?” 

“I thought it was stay!” 

“Either way, how are they gonna make the food withotut the peanuts?” 

“They were just for the sauce, I told them they could try and make a different sauce, to get creative.” 

“Merlin, we’ll have mystery sauce,” said Lily. 

“Just avoid the sauce,” James said with a shrug. “Besides, the peanuts are a great surce of protein, perfect for all of us Quidditch players prepparing for the last match.” 

“And yet you’re gatekeeping them,” you said. 

“Ugh, just have some,” he siad as he handed the bag over to you and you placed a couple in your hand, Remus was already munching on some of the ones Sirius had sneaked for him and you took one and plopped it in your mouth before feeding Sirius a couple of them. 

“Did you guys finish your homework?” asked Mary, she had ran inbetween James and Lily and stood right infront of everyone with a preoccupied face. 

“What homework?” asked Sirius with a frown. 

“Potions? Essay about common household ones? it was for the break.” 

You turned to Remus with a worried expression, but he gave you a calm nod in return. “We’ve got it, don’t worry, Luv.” 

You were tempted to lean in and press a kiss on his beautiful lips, but there were too many people in the corridors not to mention the fact that neither Mary nor Peter knew about the new relationship status, and although the three of you agreed you’d slowly tell your friends –and you were meant to tell the girls while they the boys, neither of you had set a due date, rather you decided to do it when you thought was best.

“Shit,” Sirius said as he remembered both that he hadn’t done it, and that Severus was now his partner in potions. “You think he did it?” 

“Severus?” you asked. “There is no way in hell he puts your name on it. Especially not after the new nickname you gave him.” 

“He does not know I was the one that started it…” 

“He blames us for everything bad that happens to him anyway,” James said as Sirius turned to him.

“Well, at least I won’t be the only one that didn’t do it.” 

“Who are you looking at, I did it!” 

“You what?” Sirius asked, dumbfounded. 

“Actually, the only reason I remembered to do it is thanks to Vix” 

“Whatever do I have to do with your essay? Didn’t even remember to do mine.” 

“You recall that day you were playing Romeo and Juliet on the balcony and then fell?” 

“You fell off James’ balcony?!” intervened Lily, pitch slightly higher, concerned evident in her tone.

“James made it sound a lot worse than it actually was,” you reassured. “2 and a half metres at most… Maybe three.” 

Lily looked at you just as horrified as she had been looking at you before. “Some bushed caught her, she was totally fine,” James added. “Either way, a fall is a fall, so we went digging in my father’s cabinet for some anti-swelling potion.” 

“By Merlin, what we found there.” 

“What you found there? What did you find there?” asked Sirius, turning towards you.

You and James exchanged a look and then laughed. “Bit of everything.” 

“Anyway, we left the one we used outside and when Dad asked me to put it back, I remembered and wrote a quick one.” 

“And what potion did you talk about?” 

“Sleekeazy, I asked Dad if he still had his notes from when he created it, we’re definitely going to get an ‘O’.” 

Lily gave him a thumbs-up and a small smile. James had been working a lot harder on potions since he was with her and they’d turned into an incredibly good team. The fact that they’d started dating just made it better, since Lily was less impassive and a lot more tolerant towards him now.

“So I’m the only one without an essay?” 

“Nah, Mars and I did nothing either,” Mary said with a pout. “Is anyone willing to lend me their essay?” 

“I have some notes on Draught of Living Death,” you said as you pulled out your notebook, but Sirius was quicker to snatch it away from your hands than Mary.

“Sorry, darling,” he told her with a smile. “I’ve got boyfriend privileges.” 

Her pout just grew and Lily took out her notebook, “You can take my notes on Veritasserum,” she said with a small shrug, Mary’ pout instantly turned into a smile. “I’ve got the best friends in the entire world,” she said as she pulled both you and Lily towards her and placed her arms arounf your shoulders. “And not just because you help me when I forget my homework, you know that, right?” 

Lily laughed and you smiled, leaning your head against her shoulder and feeling some of her thick curls brush against your cheek, content to have such delightful friends, and thinking how exactly you would tell them about you and the boys and the relationship you’d ended up in. 

Slughorn was already inside the classroom by the time you reached the door, he was leaning in his desk with a small smile and and that air of grandiosity he always carried himself with. New year, new potion, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be an easy one at all. He looked all too thrilled about giving the class for it to be an easy one, but you didn’t hate the idea of a complicated potion. In fact, you yearned for the normalcy of your problems being related to school and not the end of the world and a fascist takeover of power.

A few ingredients were already settled on the tables as everyone walked over to their place.  Some looked at the assortment with curiosity, while others just pushed them towards the end of the table almost carelessly, to make some space for their parchments and notebooks. Remus eyed you once he spotted the large jar filled with rose petals, wondering if you liked recieving flowers, he’d never asked. 

He didn’t much like giving flowers, there was something inherently sad about giving someone something on the verge of dying that displeased him. Even when charmed, and frozen in time, cut flowers were still cut, and once cut, they couldn’t survive, not in a way that mattered at least. Magic could make them last forever, but they still would be forever at the edge of dying. He much preferred giving living flowers. Hope always had flower pots and her orchard had always been filled with flowers –taken care of by spells from Lyall since she wasn’t all that great at keeping them alive either. But he had always seen them in bloom, from rose bushes to hydrangeas and even lily bells. 

He used to love, before going to Hogwarts and while he was educated by his parents, to see them sprout as the snow started to dissolve into water poodles, the almost magic-like qualities of the change of seasons and the resilient little buds that refused to give up on life even in such withering conditions. He used to think he was like those little plants, no matter how cold winter got, he kept fighting his way up the thick snow, perhaps eventually it would melt. 

And when he turned back to look at you, writing something in your notebook and then turning to him after noticing he was staring, smiling and sending him a small wink, he realised that the snow had indeed melted. You and Sirius were bright enough to melt it, and he would push through, and give his best, as long as he could bathe on your shine once he beat whatever layer of snow the world might bring him. 

“What’s got you so lost in thought?” you asked as you leaned closer to him. 

“Just thinking of my partners,” he said as he turned to you with a sneaky smile. 

“So you are?” you smiled just as teasingly, perhaps a good smile wouldn’t let him see how embarrassed you actually were. “Care to share with the class?” 

“It wouldn’t be proper,” he lied. 

“All the more fun then, isn’t it?” 

“How can such a dirty mind fit in such a small head?” he teased as he placed his hand on your head and shook you lightly, you laughed merrily at his action, and leaned back towards him. Sirius was way too focused on creating an essay to notice how adorable his lovers looked, which perhaps wasn’t all that bad, since he would have wanted to abandon what he was doing entirely just to join you.

More and more students walked inside the classroom when the bell rang and Slughorn stood from his seat, waving his hand at the door and having it close just seconds later, which had some students jump startled in their seats. 

“From the ingredients in the table, can anybody guess what potion we’re making today?” 

“Calming draught?” asked a student.

“That does not have Niffler’s Fancy,” said Severus with an eye roll. “Is it a beautification potion?” he asked. 

“Why, need one of those?” Sirius mumbled and got a death stare from the greasy-haired boy. 

Remus sighed, he knew teasing Severus was a bad idea, especially after what he’d seen in the bathroom. The small snicker you were trying to hold almost instantly made him forget. It had been quite a hilarious tease anyway. 

You looked at the assortment of ingredients: rose petals, niffler’s fancy, moonstone, pearl dust, mint, aswinder eggs (perhaps the most telling of them all), vanilla pod, and a few other things where the label was too small or non-existent.

“Is it Healing Tonic?” asked James, who remembered seeing some of those ingredients in his father’s medical journal. 

The ingredients themselves could have prepared anything, even the ashwinder eggs, but there had been something unusual at the beginning of the class that gave you an idea of what the potion could have been “It’s amortentia, isn’t it, Professor? That’s why you shut the door,” you said.

Slughorn’s smile widened as he looked at you. “Brilliantly said, darling,” he said.  You’d only ever heard him call Lily with that nickname, until then you had only been “Miss” and your last name. You almost appreciated not being reminded of Silas in that sense. “Indeed, indeed, we’ll be brewing amorentia.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to be able to do those only after the N.E.W.T.S?” Said Mulciber from the back. 

“That’s right, Mr. Dolohov, in fact only some students in 7th actually get to brew the potion effectively. Regardless, the potion contains a lot of complicated techniques that you’ll find useful on other brews, and since this class already has a handful of talented potioneers–” he looked around, his eyes stopping in your table, Lily, Severus and Evan’s– “I decided we would make the first attempt on this class. If a team does succeed, you’ll be getting a price in return.” 

“A price?” Asked Sirius curiously. 

“A potion from my personal stash, whichever you want, no questions asked,” Slughorn added as he pulled a small wooden box and opened it, inside of it there were about 50 different vials, small and with various shapes and sizes, from round and transparent, swirled and completely black. All of them had a small label hanging from them with neatly written cursive, Slughorn’s handwriting. 

“Any of them? Whichever we choose?” Asked Evan apprehensively. 

“Yes, indeed,” Slughorn nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the box closed itself shut. He pulled out his wand and a set of books rose from the back bookshelf and slowly flew towards everyone’s desk. “Page 567, Mr. Black, please.” 

Sirius cleared his throat and pulled the book towards him as he quickly flipped through the pages, “Amortentia, also known as The Most Powerful Love Potion in existence, is also an extremely dangerous brew that can have catastrophic results if handled incorrectly,” he started. Slughorn seemed quite pleased, and after Sirius turned his eyes up to make sure he was expected to continue, he did. “Do not be fooled by its name, although the effects of Amortentia are extremely powerful, it is impossible for it, or any other potion to manufacture true love. Its true effect is akin to obsessive infatuation.” 

“Indeed, but as you know, even if it is not true love, excessive infatuation can be extremely dangerous. Any real-life examples?” Lily raised her hand. “Miss Evans, please.” 

“When Henry VIII of England was king, he fell madly in love with Anne Boleyn. Plenty of scholars said they often saw her pouring drinks for him at parties and gatherings, and that little after he was head over hills for her. She managed to secure her marriage with Henry and England went through the break with the church. Anne never quite managed to give him a male heir and she fell out of favour.

“I read somewhere that before that happened, some of his advisors realised she was pouring stuff in his drinks and she was forbidden from serving the king, And only after that she fell out of his favour, then the Witchcraft rumours started. I checked on some old Hogwarts records because I was curious. Anne studied here before joining the king’s court, back in the fifteen hundreds, she was a Slytherin and a promising potioneer, although she was never quite good at charms. This was back when Hogwarts didn’t have such a complete curriculum, and students were only expected to master one or two crafts instead of all of them.”  You’d swear there was a shine in Slughorn’s eyes as he heard Lily speak. “The records of her being a witch were erased from most of their history, but the rumours persisted, and perhaps they would have stayed as that if Hogwarts didn’t have such a complete library.” 

“An excellent example, Miss Evans. It illustrates the dangers of obsessive infatuation.”

“What? Destroying a marriage?” Someone joked from behind. 

“Being murdered for it,” retorted Mulciber. 

“She was only murdered because she got discovered.” 

“That’s such a Slytherin comment,” Mary said to Marlene under her breath, unfortunately, the Slytherin who spoke first heard it.

“What did you say?” he asked as he stood up, his chair grinding against the stone loudly. 

“Enough!” Slughorn said. “20 points from Slytherin thanks to Mr. Parkinson,” he added sternly. “10 for Gryffindor, thanks to Miss Evans’s brilliant remark.” 

There was a choir of cheers and moans, and Mulciber kicked Preston Parkinson under the table, who complained about it with a moan and a look of hate. Lily stood straighter, proud of having gotten some more points for her house, and James was staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the galaxy. 

“Now, allow us to continue. Can somebody tell me what the most important ingredient in amorentia is?” 

“Pearl dust?” someone asked, Slughorn shook his head. 

“Ashwinder eggs?” Marlene asked, generally the most important ingredient of the potion was the first listed, so she went for it. 

“It’s extremely important, but no.” He looked at you. “Any ideas?” 

You looked at him, going through the list of instructions one by one, and then you remembered. “The item belonging to whom which the drinker will fall in love with,” you said. “Without it, it’s a completely useless brew that smells nice, with it, it becomes a weapon. Like Polyjuice.” 

“Yes! And…?” He pressed.

You bit your lip, you weren’t sure what else there was, you turned to Remus for help, and nodded calmly before looking at Slughorn, “It’s the intention, isn’t it, Professor?” 

Slughorn seemed quite pleased with the answer. “Indeed, the intention and the item are the most important. You may brew a perfect potion, but without the intention, even the best brew will be nothing more than an ingredient soup.” 

“What does that mean?” Asked Archie McMillan, a Slytherin that wasn’t all that disagreeable.

“Some potions require you to have clear intentions as you brew them. Much like the unforgivable curses, if you do not mean to use them accordingly, then they won’t work.” 

“But…” started Beth. “Wouldn’t us wanting to make such a potion put us in a bad position?” 

“Brilliant question, Miss Harmon. But want and intent are not the same. You may not want to harm someone and still intend to do it. For example, when you’re in an argument, you may purposefully say things to hurt the other person. Intentions are short-lived, temporary, wants, on the contrary, may last much longer.” 

“But does that mean we must have the intention to use it while we brew it?” Asked Mary. 

“Indeed,” he said as he nodded. “You must have the intention to use it, even if you do not want to do it.” 

“That sounds complicated,” Marlene said as she shook her head.

“And that’s why it is one of the trickiest potions to brew,” Slughorn confirmed. “Advance potions tend to have this quality, intentions matter, and that is also why they are so complicated to craft. A good flask of amorentia, one that will last for years, can cost up to a thousand galleons, and can only be found on the black market. The longer it lasts, the more expensive it will be. Does anyone know how to guess the potency of amorentia?” 

“The stronger it’s smell, the more potent,” retorted Severus. 

“Indeed, Mr. Snape, indeed.” 

“So the potion that’ll get the price will be the one that smells the strongest?” Asked Alison Prewett.

“Precisely,” he said solemnly. 

“But how do we intend without wanting?” Asked Tom. 

“Quite simple,” said Slughorn. “Think of the person you’d like to use the potion on, while you brew, cut and stir.” 

“But what if I don’t want to use it on anyone?” Asked Peter. 

“Think about it,” Slughorn said. “Is there really no person you’d like to use a potion like that on? Nobody you fancy but know is completely out of your reach? Perhaps a celebrity? A book character? A Quidditch player?” 

Peter adverted his gaze and looked at the table, taking a deep breath which made you look at him with some concern. “You think he’s all right?” you asked as you leaned towards Remus. 

“Wormmy?” He asked. “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

You shrugged, “Something in his gaze, I guess… Might be overthinking it.” 

Remus leaned his head and turned to Peter, but by then he had already gathered himself up again and was clumsily writing what Slughorn was saying on his parchment. Very characteristic of him, “He looks all right to me.” 

“Yeah, I suppose he does,” you said as you looked at him again, Remus words reassuring enough for the thought to slip your mind as Slughorn kept going on about all the ingredients you would need.

“All the ingredients are on the table, you may start. Remeber, maintain your intention, the stronger it is, the better the potion will come out.” 

“This would have been a lot easier last semester,” Remus said as you weighed some of the ingredients.

“You think?” you asked as you moved the weights on the scale, making sure it was the right amount.

“I would have had just the right intentions.” 

You turned to him with a smile, “Yeah?” you teased. “Would have thought of using it on us?” 

He shrugged, “I was always thinking of you, it would have been easy enough to keep the intention.” 

“You could still think of us, it’s what I’m planning to do,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yeah? You’ll think of me? But you already know you have me.” 

You hummed in response. “Still, imagine what a little bit of amortentia could do to calm old Remus,” you added with a smirk.

He gasped, “Calm, old?”

“Well, if the shoe fits–”

“You haven’t seen a thing. We’ve been dating for like, what? A day and a half?” he whispered. 

“See? You’re exactly the type that would keep count,” you said, just to tease him, and the brush on his tongue on the inside of his cheek made a small bump as he shook his head.

“You think it’s funny.” 

“I think it’s adorable,” you retorted, equally teasing smile. “I think you are adorable.” 

“Now you’re just trying to make me blush.” 

“Perhaps If I keep that as my intention then we’ll get the potion to be fantastic,” you retorted.

“You think I’d blush more under amortentia.” 

“You don’t? Picture this. Your room, me and Sirius. The boys aren’t around, and there definitely won’t be any James barging in at the wrong time. We’re listening to some nice, soft jazz in the record player, maybe some of the ones I got you on Christmas, maybe some from your collection and–” 

“Is everything all right with you two?” Asked Slughorn as he approached.

“Delightful,” you said, turning to him with a smile. Remus could tell you were blushing by the way your smile tightened as you looked up, he leaned his head on his hand looked at you with a very self-assured look, and raised an eyebrow, which you saw out of the corner of your eye. He was teasing you now, in retaliation for your earlier insinuations. “We were just discussing our intentions.” 

Slughorn gave you a pleased look, “Such a brilliant team the two of you make,” he said with a nod. “Nothing better than two friends being potion partners,” he added. “Well, perhaps two lovers…” 

“Like Effie and Monty, right?” 

“Yes, the Potters were some of the few students I’ve had that completed this potion perfectly. They weren’t dating then, I believe they thought of each other. It made it all the more powerful in the end.” 

“Well, I certainly know who my partner will be thinking of,” Sirius said maliciously towards Severus, once he overheard the conversation you were having with Slughorn. 

“Yeah, well I know exactly who you’ll be thinking of as well,” the other boy retorted viciously. “And it won’t be your stupid little girlfriend, will it?”

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A/N: Since we're getting close to the end, I'm planning to do a reread (10-15 chaps left) + heavy revision once we're done (still a few months from there but it's probably going to be done sometime this year) because I want to make my own printed version of it (probably on Lulu), and perhaps a cute epub file? It will probably contain pictures, fan art, and other bonus material. Either way, if you want to collaborate, either in the revision or in bonus content, please don't hesitate to hit me up.

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This Must Be The Place: Chapter 9 - Say goodnight

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Some smut…insecurities in reader

I’m back! I’ve been a bit caught up with work and parenting so things have been a little crazy. Hoping I should have more time coming up to dedicate to this! Apologies in advance…this is a little smut/fluff to warm us up before we get into the angst next chapter (I’m sorry) As always, your reblogs and comments mean the world – it’s lovely to see people engaging with his story!

You slugged him hard on the shoulder, something you seemed to be doing a lot lately.

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” you scolded, still slightly breathless.

Annoyed, you tensed up and began pushing against his chest to prise yourself off him. You saw the slight look of fear on his face as he wrapped his arms around you in what was essentially a bear hug – keeping himself inside of you.

“Hey, whoa! It was a joke. I’m sorry…I guess that was all kinda intense and I didn’t really know what to say,” he admitted, looking a little sheepish. “I meant to lighten the mood, not piss you off, believe it or not. That’s the last thing I want, okay?”

You softened a little as he kissed you again. It was true, despite his charm he was often clumsy with his words and misread the room. He didn’t seem to do it on purpose…so you let it go. This time, anyway.

“Alright…fine,” you relented as your muscles relaxed again. “But you don’t always have to…fill the silence, y’know? Sometimes…you can just be”.

He nodded. “I know, I’m trying,” he said gently as he moved a strand of hair from your face. “But look…that was…amazing. Just…wow”.

He laughed and you laughed too. “Wow is much better,” you giggled. “I can work with wow…”

*

The two of you continued to ‘wow’ one another over the upcoming weeks. Your place. His place. Once or twice in the back office at the bar (dangerously close to being caught when Peter knocked that second time…and Bucky angrily told him he was too busy doing the books when actually you were on your knees in front of him…)

His touch was addictive. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough. Even little things like him subtly brushing a finger over your lower back as he passed, or leaning over and pressing himself into you as he went to grab a drink from the bar, seemed to get you going. He knew exactly what he was doing too, shooting you a little wink or smirk each time. He liked to keep you on edge.

Neither of you had raised if you were going to go ‘public’ with your little arrangement. You didn’t want to bring it up, not wanting to appear needy or to want a ‘what are we?’ type conversation. You did tell Wanda and Vis, there were your only real friends here outside of the MC and you didn’t like the idea of lying to them about how you were spending your evenings. They had been surprised, and Wanda had warned you to be careful – she told you Bucky’s reputation was based on two things – whatever sketchy shit he had going on behind the front of his businesses, and the copious amounts of women he landed. Neither of which was a shock to you, but you were grateful for her cautioning.

If you were honest, the secret nature of your relationship with Bucky was welcomed by you. Part of you felt a little self-conscious – like the MC would all think ‘oh, there goes another one…’ or view you differently because of it. Another silly girl getting entangled with Bucky…What else is new? Keeping things quiet meant you wouldn’t embarrass yourself when it unavoidably started to go wrong…

Plus, you didn’t really want to have to deal with any other women who had him on their radar, particularly Amber…

…Who wasn’t really around as much. Her friends still came by the bar, and she did too sometimes. But less and less so. Bucky hadn’t mentioned her, you weren’t sure if he had spoken to her or if she’d just moved on elsewhere. You didn’t think he would’ve brought you up with her, but maybe she sensed he was either pulling away or spending time with another girl.

You’d hoped she had just met a nice guy and had moved on from the MC…but there was a moment one evening where you were pouring a beer at the bar and Bucky had leaned over under the guise of picking up a box at your feet, only to whisper something salacious in your ear as he passed. You’d giggled and grinned, elbowing him away playfully, and as you looked back up you had locked eyes with Amber from across the room. You’d given her a small smile, but she just stared right back. You felt oddly under fire, as if caught out, despite the fact anyone watching the same interaction most likely wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. It was as if Amber was in tune with Bucky in a way the others weren’t, especially when a rival was concerned, and she saw through your bullshit immediately.

You’d barely seen her since that night, but maybe that was for the best. You weren’t interested in beefing with another woman over a man, especially not that woman. And that man…

Aside from Amber, the only other person you wondered who might not be fooled was Steve. He and Bucky were best friends, after all. More like brothers, as Bucky had explained to you. They had grown up together. Steve had been with Bucky through it all, been dutifully by his side when he recovered from losing his arm, ran the MC with him and stuck with him no matter what.

Even if Bucky hadn’t told Steve about you, he seemed to be more aware than some of the others. His stoic silence often was down to him surveying the scene, taking everything in. A mouse couldn’t fart in the bar without Steve knowing about it. He was the eyes and ears of the MC. He had never said anything directly to you, but there had been a few looks he gave you and Bucky that seemed pointed. His sky blue eyes said much more than he did. But maybe you were just projecting…

Thankfully, everyone else was as oblivious as you needed them to be.

Once, as you sat with a few club members to wind down after closing, Bucky had brazenly dragged his hand over your bare thigh under the table. It had been a warm and stuffy night, so you’d done your shift in a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt. You’d discreetly raised an eyebrow at him, which quickly evolved into an expression of controlled panic as he trailed his finger across your skin before casually unzipping your fly and making his way in, moving past your underwear. You’d bitten your lip to stay quiet as he found your clit and began working you over, all the while chatting away to Bruce like nothing was happening. You tried to bat him away, but he kept coming back, and you soon caught on that people would notice if you tried any harder and made a scene as a result. You quickly understood he was counting on using your embarrassment to silence you.

And, well, damn him - it did feel good…

He didn’t look over at you once as he continued, but his fingers didn’t let up as you began to feel the familiar heat build within. You hated to admit to yourself how much it excited you. You knew how wet you were, how close you were. He knew it too, based on how he began to adjust his pace and pressure. Your entire body tensed as you realised to your horror, that in spite your discomfort, your body was about to betray you and give you a very public orgasm. As the feeling bloomed and the heat swelled, you took a large sip of your water and glanced downwards in an attempt to cover up any potential facial expressions that might give you away. You choked on the mouthful, spitting a little out down your chin as your climax hit, your shoulders shuddering.

“You okay?” Sam asked from across the table as he looked at you with concern.

You nodded bashfully, “Uh, yeah, sorry,” you croaked – still dazed and a little out of it, “Choked on my water”.

“You gotta go easy, doll,” Bucky chimed in smugly as he withdrew his hand and subtly zipped up your shorts.

You glared at him with an expressionless face, but your eyes told him all he needed to know as he defiantly smirked back at you. He then retained eye contact as he appeared to ‘absent-mindedly’ suck on the tip of his finger and pretended to listen to Nat’s conversation with Sam. You managed to suppress a squeak as you felt the warmth rush to your cheeks.

Later, to pay him back for his little stunt, you angrily rode him back at his place and edged him until he was a whiny mess begging for release. Which you gladly gave him (eventually). Then you were even. It wasn’t often you took charge with him, but you knew he enjoyed it when you did. Just as much as he enjoyed when you were the babbling wreck.

That seemed to be a large part of your dynamic, always trying to one-up each other and ‘win’. It was thrilling, exciting. It probably wasn’t healthy…but you didn’t care. This wasn’t serious anyway. It was just fun. Someone to spend the time with in-between sorting through Granny’s boxes and painting her walls. Someone to make you laugh and give you orgasms and kill time with at your bar job. Someone whose initial rule that you didn’t sleepover had lapsed when you both passed out after a particularly vigorous session. Someone whose arms you awoke in the following morning, who didn’t rag on you for sleeping over but instead kissed your crown and didn’t speak. Someone who laid with you and held you so tenderly that it silenced you, famously a smart mouth, you, too. Someone who you began to sleep with most nights, even when you weren’t working. Whose absence you felt when he wasn’t there, someone who you realised you slept better with alongside. Dreamless, deep sleep that actually felt restorative and restful and allowed you to wake feeling refreshed and ready for the day. Someone who in the early light of day would smile sleepily at you and kiss you, morning breath be damned, and pull you into him like you hadn’t just been sleeping in his arms for all those hours before.

Someone not serious.

Another time, late one night, he took you out on his bike. The feeling of the wind in your hair, the exhilaration of the speed, the warmth of his leather as you wrapped your arms around his waist…it helped you to understand why Bucky loved all of this so much. There was something very freeing about rocketing down the roads at top speeds, not shrouded in a box as you were in a car, just out in the air – free and uninhibited.

He drove you both to a hillside on the edge of town where you could see everything below. You’d sat on the grassy verge together and silently watched the lights of the buildings beneath you, thinking about all those people in their homes…going about their lives. Were they happy? Is this what they imagined their life would be?

Is this how you’d imagined yours?

Maybe.

He moved his hand over your own and kept it there, not speaking. You didn’t really need to speak when it came to Bucky. You did talk, sometimes late into the night – about your past, your passions, your disappointments and fears. He was easy to talk to, he didn’t always say the right thing but he listened intently. He remembered details and brought them up later. Being with him was just…easy. In silence or in noise.

You both sat there, hand in hand, time lost as you watched the lights below and the stars above. One by one the houses would go dark, the residents retiring to their beds as their home slept along with them. Unknowingly watched over by the two of you as you continued your silent observation. You could see Granny’s home in the distance, the porch lights on for your ease when you got home later. You wondered if Granny had ever been up here, if she’d seen her home the way you saw it now.

Bucky turned to you and smiled, leaning in and kissing you softly. Taking his time as his nose brushed against yours and the strands of his hair slipped out from behind his ears. If you’d dropped dead at that second, you knew you would be at peace.

Your stomach curled as you realised what this all meant. The inevitable fact you’d been hiding from yourself for some time.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes.

[she-who-paints-with-fire]

STORMBRINGER

Shift. Breathe. Move. Breathe. Turn. Breathe. Fire. Breathe.

Lux had been trained to always keep a particular mantra in mind: "Space buys time, time buys options, options buy victory."

[TARGET LOCKED]

[SHARANGA MISSILES ARMED]

Combat in a hard vacuum turned this mantra on its head.

In hardvac combat, space bought time, but the more time you had, the more problems you had. In hardvac combat you were on a time limit. Every breath of oxygen was precious; every bit of inertia needed to be metered out. Sure, you had the heart of a star and were powered by a series of cascading nuclear reactions that were for all intents and purposes providing infinite fuel, but if you were light-years from the nearest station, you'd run out of oxygen long before you got back into a pressurized environment.

If combat was a dance, hardvac combat was trapeze. One wrong move in your performance and you would break your neck.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING]

Lux wove right, narrowly avoiding a ship-scale laser. She could nearly feel the heat on her flesh; she could certainly feel it on her metallic skin.

[JAVELIN ROCKETS ARMED]

[FIRING JAVELIN ROCKETS]

Explosions rippled across the outer hull of the Calamity Supreme as Dawn Always Comes soared up the spine of the ship, scattering missiles across the railgun mountings, hoping to destroy or at least disable something important to lessen the storm of incoming fire that her battlegroup's Huron-class frigate. I Refuse To Sink was, at least, weathering the storm.

[TARGET LOCK]

[SHARANGA MISSILES ARMED]

Dawn Always Comes danced sideways once more and unleashed a barrage of self-guiding missiles against one of the ship-scale magnetic rails. Electricity ran along the rails as another slug prepared to fire; Lux found something that looked like an exposed support section and imagined it burning.

[TARGET LOCK]

[GANDIVA MISSILES ARMED]

It was like she was handing out explosive party favours, or lucid-dreaming. She closed her eyes and the target exploded in her mind, then she opened her eyes and saw twisted, burning metal. Energy continued running down the magnet lines; far down the railgun barrel a metal slug was slotted into place.

[WARNING - WITHIN APOCALYPSE RAIL BLAST AREA]

Lux darted upwards into a lag roll, spinning sideways and spiralling low until she was running alongside the hull at barely [ALTITUDE, ALTITUDE] ten metres. With but a thought and a muscle twitch, she targeted two laser-defense turrets, closed her eyes, and fired.

[TARGET LOCKED]

[SHARANGA MISSILE ARMED]

Flames leapt and devoured the metal like greywash. Lux paid them no mind and sped further down the hull [RADAR LOCK WARNING], rolling right and [CHAFF / FLARE, CHAFF / FLARE] firing countermeasures to disrupt a hostile fighter's targeting lock, dancing along the golden path like a tightrope walker at ten million metres in the sky.

Another laser passed close, superheating metal, causing no damage. Lux kept striding the golden path. Breathe in, breathe out.

"Captain Korai to ALLCOM. We're holding steady but taking a beating--if you could focus on disabling weapons systems, it would save a few lives."

Lux smiled despite herself, then refocused. She knew how to do this, even as point-defense formed a web around her and she continued to dance along the tightrope, finding every hole and slipping through like rainwater caught in a net.

Breathe in, breathe out. Dawn Always Comes strained against inertia as it shot upwards in a clean Immelmann turn. As she rose she looked at the Calamity Supreme, taking it in, analyzing all angles.

She closed her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out.

She imagined it in every light. Every angle. She saw the crew onboard. The miles of circuitry. The guns, half-loaded. The broken armor panels. The ones still holding strong. The shattered hulls. The vented compartments. Those rooms that still teemed with life. The bunks within which the crew slept. The locked bulkheads. The engines, roaring and ready at combat speed. The bridge, from which the captain organized the entire ship.

She imagined the perfected ship. She held it in her mind. Silvery strips of metal chaff framed her like twinkling stars; flares formed an afterimage of wings.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Sacrifice time to expedite victory. Do it right. Breathe in. Breathe out.

[AVENGER SILOS ARMED]

On Venus, a thunderstorm began to form. Convection cells rose and cooled; lightning coiled and prepared to leap. Lux reached up and held the clouds tight.

[SHARANGA MISSILES ARMED]

Raindrops gathered in those heavy clouds. Wind began to speed up. Animals covered their patches of grass.

[JAVELIN ROCKETS ARMED]

Karateka sat at the centerfold of the storm, watching the rain swirl around her.

[GANDIVA MISSILES ARMED]

With a deep breath, she focused on the wind as it began to howl, the rain as it began to fall, the force of a hurricane all around her. She took it, focused it, let it flow through her. A thousand-thousand-thousand raindrops fell away from her palms as she released the stormclouds from her grasp.

[DIVINE PUNISHMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVE]

Raindrops that, taken together, could carve away the earth.

[savingcontent]

Dotemu announces November 5th release date for long-awaited Metal Slug Tactics

Continue reading Dotemu announces November 5th release date for long-awaited Metal Slug Tactics

[xboxissues]

New Xbox Games for November 4 to November 8 2024

[fatihulusoy]

Greetings folks! Did somebody say fungus bots? its time to spore some trouble i guess :) ok it wasnt funny i get it.. Anyways meet with new fungus based biohybrid bot..

before i start to explain how its works lets take a look at its backstory shall we?

The idea was almost age old actually, experimentation of soft body robotics and bio robotics and today its reshape as we see biohybrid robotics with the search for more sustainable, self-healing, and biodegradable materials. Traditional robots are often made from synthetic materials and metals, which can be rigid, non-biodegradable, and challenging to repair. The researchers at Cornell University sought to overcome these limitations by integrating biological elements into robotic systems.

The team turned to mycelium, the root-like structure of fungi, which has the unique ability to grow, self-repair, and biodegrade. Mycelium is also known for its strength and flexibility, making it an ideal candidate for use in soft robotics. By embedding mycelium within a network of sensors and actuators, the researchers created a biohybrid bot capable of sensing its environment and responding to stimuli, all while being environmentally friendly.

This fungus bot represents a significant step towards more sustainable robotics, demonstrating how living organisms can be harnessed to create innovative and eco-friendly technologies. The research also opens up possibilities for robots that can grow, adapt, and repair themselves in ways that conventional robots cannot, potentially revolutionizing fields such as environmental monitoring, agriculture, and even healthcare.

there is four actual elements that actually runs this bot besides of shell.

Fungus's Mycelium

Fungus's slug

UV light or UV array in the sun light

Electricity (it seperates as fungus related electrical pulse and electricity waves from censors)

firstly lets start with fungus mycelium: Mycelia are the underground vegetative part of mushrooms, and they have a number of advantages. They can grow in harsh conditions. They also have the ability to sense chemical and biological signals and respond to multiple inputs. so basically its neural system that transfers certain commands of activities between root and fungus itself

its slug is basically fungus's cell system or actual biohybrid organism it this case

once mycelium gets affected by UV lights it generates small electricity pulses to slug system and when slugs gets electrocuted by these pulses it acts like a muscle basically and it causes the slug to move or contract its muscles to activate.

and once you figure out how you gonna shape its muscle system and house them carefully you will have a "biohybrid robot" as their terms

the reason im taking this now is it reminded me "Fungus Baby Experiments" which is an inside name for series of projects that been continued for a while after corona until now.. Simply, the goal was to create or adapt an organism to thrive in different environments and make sure these environments livable by humans in the future by manipulating with artificial and external factors. Google it :)

anyways.. thats all from me this time..

until next time..

Sources:

for fungus baby experiments:

[acourtofthought]

242 Reasons Why Lucien is the GOAT of the ACOTAR Series

“I’m Lucien. Courtier and emissary.” He gestured to me with a flourish. “Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.”

Lucien smirked. “Apologies, Feyre.”

I finally found Lucien astride a black gelding, grinning down at me with too-white teeth.

“I admire your balls, Feyre—I really do. Or maybe it’s stupidity

“A valiant effort,” Lucien said with a smirk.

Lucien snorted but didn’t say anything else

“I might die of surprise,” Lucien said behind me. “You made a joke, Feyre.”

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

Lucien remained sitting on the blanket and lifted the bottle of wine in salute. He took a slug from it as he sprawled on his back and gazed at the green canopy.

He sighed, looking skyward before he studied me warily, that metal eye narrowing with unnerving focus.

I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

“I didn’t keep my mouth shut when I should have, and was punished for it.”

“Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn’t. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day.”

He winced. “Shit, Feyre—I’m not that old.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons.”

“Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

Lucien sighed as he looked me over. “Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?”. “Do you ever stop being such a prick?” I snapped back. But Lucien grinned at me. “Much better.”

The face of Tamlin’s emissary—more court-trained and calculating than I’d seen him yet.

In lieu of a pretty breakfast table by the window, a worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons.

It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire. Tamlin’s court-trained emissary, but a warrior in his own right.

“I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border—official emissary business,” he said, setting down the hunting knife he’d been cleaning, a long, vicious blade.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling with feline delight.

Lucien never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so he spent his youth doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords”—

he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people.

Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment.

The metal eye narrowed on me while the other remained wary, unimpressed. “Yes?”

The look he gave me was more contemplative than any he’d given me before. “I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.”

He reached for something at his side and tossed it to me. I had to fight to stay in the saddle as I fumbled for it—a jeweled hunting knife. / I’d never held one so finely crafted, so perfectly balanced.

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin.

“Idiot!” he yelled at me, then glanced behind him toward where the other faeries stared. “Useless human fool.” Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move.

I could have sworn that Lucien was sleeping upright, fork in hand.

Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.

“Faerie pig!” I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

Lucien, claiming that he had miserable emissary business to attend to,

Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t.

“I see,” I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it

He used the dagger to clean his nails. “I’ve been busy. So have you, I take it.”

Lucien climbed the statue to remove the head.

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. “She looks positively Fae.”

“Unfortunately for you and your neck,” Lucien countered, “tonight’s just a party.” “Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?” Lucien winked at me.

“So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking,” Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. “And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin.

“Remember the last time you ignored my warning?” He poked me in the neck, and I batted his hand away.

“I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself,” I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I’d had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick—enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool.

His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge.

“Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered,

“Idiot,” he said when he looked at my face. “Drunken idiot.”

I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said

Lucien lead me to the window, where he pushed me against the velvet drapes. / The tang of magic shoved itself up my nostrils. Though his sword was pointed at the floor, Lucien’s grip tightened on it until his knuckles turned white. Magic—a glamour. To conceal me, to make me a part of Lucien—invisible, hidden by the faerie’s magic and scent.

Lucien pointed his sword at Rhysand. “Watch your filthy mouth.”

Lucien spat at Rhysand’s feet and shoved his sword between us.

“You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leeched from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground.

Lucien stared him down for a moment, spat on the ground, and stormed up the stairs.

“Well, at least we don’t have to lie to you anymore. Let’s clean you up a bit.”

“Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me.

“Her name, Emissary?” Amarantha asked of Lucien. But Lucien only glanced at Tamlin before closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders.

“I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

She listened, of course—but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

He unclasped his cloak and set it around my shoulders.

“It’s why I couldn’t come sooner,” he said, his throat bobbing. “She used her—used our powers to keep my back from healing. I haven’t been able to move until today.”

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

“Tam!” Lucien cried over the chaos. A sword hurtled through the air, a shooting star of steel.

Lucien hunted down five naga yesterday.”

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

Last week, I’d finally asked him if she’d set her sights on him, and Lucien had merely given me a look, snarling softly, before stalking off

the right hand of a High Lord and another High Lord’s son.

“I didn’t lie,” Lucien said tightly. “I technically did fall off my horse.” He patted his mount’s flank. “After one of them tackled me off her.”

I am the first one the others look to—I set the example.

“I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.”

“Please,” Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. “The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our honor.”

He assured me that he hated the gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself,

Lucien intervened calmly, “I already have my sources looking into it.”

Lucien sighed a bit and said to Tamlin, “If we perhaps trained her in secret—”

Lucien muttered something that sounded like a plea to the Cauldron.

Lucien took a deep breath that sounded a lot like: “Here we go.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “She meant no harm, Tam.”/ Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.”

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless—

“How long have the claws been appearing?” he said softly. "There's only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.

They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien. Lucien had growled back, They’ll do it anyway, so what’s the difference?

We are not assassins, Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his place—. Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance...

His red hair was tied back, and there wasn’t a hint of finery on him: just armored leather, swords, knives

Lucien, beside Tamlin, again put a hand on his sword. “Stop this.”

“That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron.

Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints.

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain.

“She is no such thing,” she said, and shoved him again. Lucien didn’t move an inch.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

Lucien’s answering growl was nothing short of feral.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place.

But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again.

It was Lucien who answered, studying my painting as if it held the proof I knew he was searching for.

Lucien remained leaning against the door across from mine. His room. I didn’t doubt he’d ensured I now stayed across from him. Didn’t doubt that the metal eye he possessed was always turned toward my own chambers, even while he slept.

“She’s going to spin a story that you’ll want to hear,” Lucien warned. / Lucien halted me with a hand around my elbow. “You’re smarter than that.” I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow.

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” / “Tell me anyway. List all of them.”. “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.”

Lucien only nodded. But I felt his gaze on my back, fixed right on my spine, as I headed downstairs

Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.”

Lucien seemed to be trying very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

I could practically feel the snide remark simmering in Lucien.

“My emissary knows the wall as well as any sentry.”

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.”

I was fairly certain that only centuries of training kept Lucien from leaping over the table to rip out Jurian’s throat.

“The gap in the wall is right up here,” Lucien was saying, sounding about as thrilled as me to be in such company.

Brannagh studied how closely I stood to Lucien; how he shifted slightly to shield me, too.

Lucien sat against a nearby tree, folding one booted ankle over another. “Whatever you’re planning, it’ll land us knee-deep in shit.”

“I would have been a part of the human-Fae alliance.”

“I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.”

But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlor. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.”

“This situation is terrible,” I said, and it was the truth. A low snort.

And despite Jurian, despite the sneering royals, a corner of Lucien’s mouth tugged upward.

I gave Lucien a subtle, pleading look, and he barely hid his smirk as he sauntered over to me. Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse.

Ever the courtier, he bowed back.

He flat-out refused to participate. I replaced him in the Rite, but …” I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court.

I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it. Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

I kept close to Lucien, who was inclined to indulge me.

Lucien answered on the second knock. “I heard you—what’s wrong.” He scanned me, russet eye wide as he noted my disheveled hair, my sweaty nightgown. / I swallowed, a silent question on my face, and he nodded, retreating into the room to let me inside. Bare from the waist up, he’d managed to haul on a pair of pants before opening the door, and hastily buttoned them as I strode past.

“What did you dream of tonight?” he asked quietly./ Lucien rose, stalking to me. / Lucien paused half a foot from me. He didn’t so much as object as I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest. / Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back

His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight.

His silence was heavy—sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. “I’m sorry,” he said

It’s why we avoid bargains unless it’s necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don’t know how it works. Believe me, I’ve asked.” “For me—you asked them for me.”. “Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I—we didn’t want to give you false hope. And we didn’t dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it.”

“You didn’t stop him.” “I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.”

“Even if they’re now our allies,” I mumbled, “I still hate them.” A snort. “Me too.”

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

Then at us, their eyes widening further as they noted Lucien’s cruel beauty.

Lucien stared him down. “We accept no tribute from the human lands. Least of all children.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, well aware that Lucien carefully watched from the shade of a nearby oak.

Lucien had gone to the stream to get more water

Lucien woke me the next morning with a hand over my mouth, warning gleaming in his russet eye. I smelled it a moment later: the coppery tang of blood. / Lucien slid from the tent, limbs loose and ready to shift into a defensive position. He’d been trained, he once told me—at the Autumn Court and at this one. Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles, but I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien laid his own cloak across the remains of the two young women.

“They are our allies,” he growled at me, at Lucien, both of us seated in armchairs flanking the mantel. / “And you should have left it alone for me to deal with.” Tamlin heaved a jagged breath. “Not retaliated like children.” He threw a glare in Lucien’s direction. “I expected better from you.” / “You sent the Bogge after them!” Tamlin roared. /Lucien had tracked it down—and we’d lured it, carefully, over hours, back to that camp. Right to where Dagdan and Brannagh had been gloating over their kill. / Lucien cleared his throat. Stood as well. “Tam—those humans were barely more than children. Feyre gave the royals an order to stand down. They ignored it. If we let Hybern walk all over us, we stand to lose more than their alliance. The Bogge reminded them that we aren’t without our claws, too.”

He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. / My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking— The doors burst open. “What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand. / “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room.

the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

But Lucien was there. Her focus wholly on me, on taking from me the beauty I’d burned from her, Brannagh did not see him winnow until it was too late. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

“I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”

“I know a place,” Lucien said, walking toward the cave that would take us to his home.

I let Lucien lead the way,

“It doesn’t lead anywhere. It curves away in the back—it’ll keep us out of sight.” I let him go inside first nonetheless.

Flint struck, and I found myself gazing at a makeshift camp of sorts. The candle Lucien had ignited sat on a natural stone ledge, and on the floor nearby lay three bedrolls and old blankets, crusted with leaves and cobwebs. A little fire pit lay in the sloped center of the space, the ceiling above it charred. No one had been here in months. Years. “I used to stay here while hunting. Before—I left,” he said,

“It’s too risky to eat,” I admitted, evading his question. Lucien was having none of it. “I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power—her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.”

His eye seemed to simmer. As if being in his own lands set that molten ore inside him rising to the surface, even with the damper on his power. “Glad to see the mask is off, at least.”

“You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here … He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye.

he waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He’d tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I’d been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. / Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. “I’ll clean them while you start the fire.” I

“As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.” He eased to his feet with a groan, his unbound hair glimmering as the midday sun overhead set the blood and wine hues aglow. “I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.” A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch.

he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket.

“Father,” the one now holding a knife to my throat said to Lucien, “is rather put out that you didn’t stop by to say hello.” “We’re on an errand and can’t be delayed,” Lucien answered smoothly, mastering himself.

he saw the sweat beading on my temple, my upper lip, as my blood heated. A slight bob of his chin was his only sign of understanding.

“Run,” I gasped out, but Lucien was already at my side, a steadying hand under my arm as I burned that flame hotter and hotter. It wouldn’t keep them contained for long, and I could indeed feel someone’s power rising to challenge mine. But there was another force to wield. Lucien understood the same moment I did. Sweat simmered on Lucien’s brow as a pulse of flame-licked power slammed into the stones just above us. Dust and debris rained down. I threw any trickle of magic into Lucien’s next blow. His next. / Lucien and I brought down the cave ceiling.

I’d been wearing my cloak, but … he’d indeed given me his. He shivered against the cold as we dragged and clawed our way up the mountain slope, and did not dare stop.

“Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly.

“And then I’ll ask your mate how he survived it—knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male’s bed.”

“You left us.” Us. Not Tamlin. Us. The words echoed into the dark,

"You fit into the Spring Court as little as I did, Lucien. You enjoyed its pleasures and diversions. But don’t pretend you weren’t made for something more than that.”

“Run,” Lucien breathed. / “Faster,” Lucien ordered. “Don’t look!” he barked as I began to turn my head to see if they’d followed. He lashed out a hand to grip my elbow, steadying me before I could even register that I’d stumbled. / “Zag,” Lucien panted. “We need to—” He shoved me aside, and I staggered, arms wheeling. Just as an arrow ricocheted off the ice where I’d been standing. “Faster,” Lucien snapped, and I didn’t hesitate.

Behind him, cut off by his brothers, Lucien had drawn his own knife and now sized up the other two.

I think Lucien shouted my name.

“Which one?” I asked carefully. Mor swept her attention over Lucien once more. I almost pitied Lucien for the weight in her gaze, the utter judgment. The stare of the Morrigan—whose gift was pure truth. Whatever she beheld in Lucien was enough for her to say, “The town house. You have someone waiting there for you.”

Lucien survey our surroundings.

But their watchful silence was indication enough: let him decide his own fate. At last, Lucien looked at me. At us. He said, “There are children laughing in the streets.” I blinked. He said it with such … quiet surprise. As if he hadn’t heard the sound in a long, long time.

“I see you brought home a new pet,” she said, nose crinkling with distaste. / Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply / Amren smiled slightly. “Already trained, I see.”

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed into my mind.

Lucien only shifted on his feet. Wary. Considering. I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I’d interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, “There is a longer story to be told, it seems.” Smart answer.

Lucien weighed my offer—and the three males monitoring his every blink and breath. He only nodded. Another wise decision.

“And you love him. And he—he truly does love you.” Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. “And all these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing … They are your family.”

And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

We were almost to the door, Cassian already in the hall, when Lucien said to me, “Thank you.” I didn’t dare ask him for what.

"set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn"

“What did you do with yourself this afternoon?” “Slept,” he said. “Washed. Sat on my ass.”

His face was indeed controlled, but—a hint of surprise twinkled there. Wariness, too, but … surprise.

Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-colored pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them. He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien considered. “Can I offer my unsolicited advice?” / Lucien studied my mate, then me. “I assume Feyre is going.” / “Are you planning to hide her powers?” / Lucien studied me again, and it was an effort not to squirm. “My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way—by killing you.” / Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. “That’s the information you need to gather. What my father knows—if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly.”

Rhys swirled his wine once, set it down, and said to Lucien, “You and Azriel should talk. Tomorrow.” Lucien glanced toward the shadowsinger—who only nodded at him. “I’m at your disposal.”

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows, “After lunch, we’ll meet.

“You trust Lucien.” Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes … His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

“He’s not a bad person—he’s not evil.” “He certainly isn’t.”

Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand? The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn’t dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn’t yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough. Touch her, smell her, taste her— The instincts were a running river. He fisted his hands at his sides.

Azriel seemed like a decent enough male

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta’s vacated one. “There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?”

he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn’s coat.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing. He’d told the shadowsinger all he knew—of his surviving brothers, of his father. His mother … he’d kept some details, irrelevant and utterly personal, to himself. Everything else—his father’s closest allies, the most conniving courtiers and lords … He’d handed it over. Granted, it was dated by a few centuries, but in his time as emissary, from the information he’d gathered, not much had changed. They’d all acted the same Under the Mountain, anyway. And after what had happened with his brothers a few days ago … There was no tinge of guilt when he told Azriel what he knew. None of what he felt when he looked toward the south—toward both of the courts he’d called home.

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

He paused right between them and said to me, to Nesta, “She needs fresh air.” / “We’ll judge what she needs.” I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.” Then he walked away.

“Mother above,” Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair.

Lucien had offered to make himself useful while we were gone by reading through some of the texts now piled on the tables throughout the sitting room.

But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

It wasn’t just about what he thought—it was the … feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And … sorrow. Longing

Cassian had come off the roof at some point to join Lucien in the sitting room, the books from the wall spread on the low-lying table between them

It felt like days ago. I rested my head against the embroidered back of the chair and watched Lucien take a seat on the rolled arm of the nearest couch. “Long day?” I grunted my response.

He weighed my tone, and crossed his arms. “Let me do something. About Elain. I heard—from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

“Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.”

Madja didn’t deign to answer Nesta until we were at the bottom of the steps. Lucien was already waiting in the sitting room, Mor still lingering in the dining room. Both of them rose to their feet.

Lucien muttered something about not needing to be monitored, and we all looked at him with raised brows. He just lifted his hands, claimed he wanted to freshen up, and headed down the hall.

The sound seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” “It—it was a tug. On the bond.” / Then Nesta was standing in the threshold. “What did you do.” The words were as sharp as a blade. Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

“And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien’s attention slid behind me, to the various letters on different styles and makes of paper. That golden eye narrowed. As Tamlin’s emissary, he no doubt recognized them. “Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache.” Mor frowned. “Any suggestions?” Lucien tied back his hair with a strap of brown leather. “Do you have a map?”

Lucien had indeed given us an initial location, and several more when those were struck down. But that was to be expected, Lucien had said, as if he’d arranged such things countless times. Rhys had only nodded in agreement—and approval.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I’d been more than willing to hand over. I might have felt guilty for never giving him a proper tour of Velaris, but … he seemed eager. More than eager—he seemed to be itching to head into the city on his own.

Lucien, stationed by the front window, turned from watching the street. Monitoring it. A sword and dagger hung from his belt. No humor, no warmth graced his face—only fierce, grim determination.

“I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.” / “What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.” He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …” He offered me a grim smile. “I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.” Home, he had almost said. “But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies—there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can … bring help.” / “You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.” My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

Lucien had indeed been studying all those maps lately. Perhaps at the quiet behest of whatever force had guided us all. My mate added, “Thank you.” Lucien shrugged. And it was that gesture alone that made me say at last, “Are you sure?” He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.”

I asked Lucien, “When do you want to leave?” “Tomorrow.” I hadn’t heard him sound so assertive in … a long time. “I’ll prepare for the rest of today, and leave after breakfast tomorrow morning.” He added to Rhys, “If that works for you.”

Cassian had given him free rein yesterday afternoon to loot his personal cache of weapons, though my friend had been economical about which ones he’d selected. The blade, plus a short sword, plus an assortment of daggers. A quiver of arrows and an unstrung bow were tied to his pack.

“You know precisely where you want Rhys to take you?” I asked at last. Lucien nodded, glancing to where my mate now waited by the front door. He’d bring Lucien to the edge of the human continent—to wherever Lucien had decided would be the best landing spot. No farther, Azriel had insisted. His reports indicated it was too watched, too dangerous. Even for one of our own. Even for the most powerful High Lord in history.

“It was time,” Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. “For me to do something.”

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it—then my mate’s face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they’d spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien’s own. But Lucien took Rhys’s hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Their gazes locked and held. / Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.

“I—heard the rumors and assumed Lucien Vanserra would be residing there after … what happened.” She still didn’t look at Tamlin, who remained silent and brooding. “I managed to contact him a few days ago—asked him to send samples. He did—and did not tell you,” she added quickly to Rhysand, “because he did not want to raise your hopes. Not until I’d found a solution.” No wonder he’d been so eager to head alone into Velaris that day he’d gone to help us research. I shot a look at Rhys. Seems like Lucien can still play the fox. Rhys didn’t look at me, though his lips twitched as he replied, Indeed.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him. His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir.

“Lucien,” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrowed. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go. To come now, actually. So pushy, you Prythian males.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain’s hands.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, “I heard—what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. All of you.”

“I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you,” he said, squeezing me tightly. “And don’t be surprised if Vassa corners you as soon as the ships are sorted. And the sun sets.” “Is she really—” “Yes. But your father, ever the negotiator …” / “The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.” I nudged him in the ribs. But Lucien again looked at that singed grass, and his blood-splattered face turned solemn. “He was a good man,” he said. “He loved you all very much.”

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

I said to him, “So where now? Off with Vassa?” I wondered if he’d heard of Tamlin’s role—the help he’d given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him. Lucien shrugged. “First—here. To help. Then …” Another glance at Elain. “Who knows?” I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, “You could come to Velaris.” He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. “It would be my pleasure.”

Tamlin just shook his head, loathing simmering in his green eyes, and walked past. Not a word. I looked at Lucien in time to see the guilt, the devastation, flicker in that russet eye.

But Lucien remained standing with us as Tamlin found his place in the sitting room to our right. Did not glance at his friend even once. Lucien wasn’t foolish enough to beg for forgiveness.

I didn’t dare look through the ruined doorway to where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae healing

Another tidbit that Lucien had told us.

Send Lucien then. As our human emissary.

"Where's our dear friend Lucien?" "Off hunting for dinner."

"You brought presents". "It's Solstice tradition here, but isn't it?"

An uncontrollable instinct - for a male to eliminate any threat. But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair

Somehow in living with Jurian and Vassa in the manor, he'd run into Elain's former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

The corded muscle of his forearm shifted beneath the fine silk of his sapphire jacket.

"He is a good male", I repeated.

He raised his fist to the door, but the wooden slab pulled away before he could touch it. Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared, his golden eye whirring. “I thought I sensed someone else arriving.”

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

“Easy,” Lucien said. Cassian snarled. “Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.