#portage pass

[gradienty]

Portage French Pass (#917efb to #b3e1fe)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"YOUNG FORGER GETS TWO YEARS IN PENITENTIARY," Winnipeg Tribune. November 21, 1913. Page 16. --- Youth Recently Out of Reform School Raised Money by Fraud ---- "You have apparently started on a career of crime from which kindness. nor punishment seems to deter you. I am sorry to have to do this, but I have no option but to sentence you to two years in the penitentiary."

The foregoing sentence was handed out to Victor Jones, an 18 year old youth, who yesterday pleaded guilty before Magistrate Macdonald, to six charges of forgery and uttering.

Jones is only about two months out from having spent a long term in Portage la Prairie reformatory. Almost as soon as he regained his liberty, instead of obtaining a situation and maintaining himself honestly, by the assistance of his parents, who are respectable people and quite willing to help him, the youth began to raise money by means of forgery. On hearing that a warrant had been issued for his arrest he fled the country and was only last week arrested in Milwaukee.

[Jones was also known as Johns and John Victor. He was Baptist, 22, from Roland, Manitoba, and a cook (or had been forced to work as one at the Reformatory.) He was convict #1860 at Manitoba Penitentiary, and worked in the prison kitchen under uniform number #126. He was released in August 1915.]

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨ Behind (Not So) Closed Doors✨

As promised, here’s a little story of the one prompt I got a little bit ago! Literally no one voted ‘no’ on the poll for this story and I think that’s hysterical, bunch of thirsty mfs (affectionate 💖)

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You catch Lucifer acting out on his most carnal desires…

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, fingering, hand job, (oral m & f receiving), p in v

You remember first meeting the King of Hell on the day you checked yourself into the Hazbin Hotel. And you remember thinking that Lucifer looked nothing like you had pictured. Of course he was beautiful, that wasn’t shocking, but he was so…unimposing. Not only that, but he was also kind, albeit a bit dorky as well. Not that it was off putting to you, it was endearing if anything!

Although, you hadn’t spoken to him all that much since the time you’d moved in. Lucifer seemed so nonchalant and relaxed with everyone else in the hotel, save for Alastor, who you noticed always managed to get under the fallen angel’s skin one way or another. Even you knew the radio demon was playing with fire; probably wasn’t the smartest idea to piss off the most powerful being in Hell. Regardless, how he acted around you was a little odd to say the least. It seemed like Lucifer was always trying to avoid you for some unknown reason. Did he not like you?

When you had first spoken to him all those months ago, you could tell he was tense. He rambled, a lot. And he somehow managed to fumble every other word that left his mouth. He quickly left after your initial meeting, and ever since then it had been nearly impossible to get in more than five words at a time. He had an impossibly perfect disappearing act, what with his portaging abilities. One time you greeted him from across the lobby and his only response was “O-Oh! H-Hey you! Uhh, I just, umm…welp, gotta run!” and took off before you could even say goodbye. Truly bizarre.

You eventually went to Charlie, telling her that her dad was seemingly very distant towards you. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” Charlie explained. “He’s a pretty busy guy, so he’s usually popping in and out of here pretty frequently. And he’s told me on multiple occasions that he’s glad you joined the hotel! He can come off as a bit scatterbrained, but rest assured he’s more than happy to have you here! And so am I!”

You smiled and thanked her. From the few months that you’ve known her, Charlie was never one to lie, so you decided to take her words at face value. For now, at least. For some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with Lucifer. You needed to find out.

A few nights had passed and you found yourself wandering through the lobby. The black nightgown you typically wore to bed didn't provide nearly enough heat, but you didn't want to change back into your normal day clothes either. So, you threw on your favorite pink robe before you left your room, it was more than enough to keep you comfortable. It was late, way later than you should have been awake. Even Husk was asleep, the bar sat devoid of any life. It was difficult to sleep most nights, you were still grappling with the fact that you were, in fact, in Hell. You thought you were a decent person in life. Never religious but you tried your best to while you were alive. But that didn’t seem to matter. Perhaps you should have attended church with your family more often, or donated to more charities, or not cut that one person off at that traffic light. Lying awake in your bed didn’t help these thoughts but getting up and walking around usually helped just a tad.

You glanced over to the fireplace, noticing the flames dancing against the walls. That was strange, considering no one ever used the fireplace, or at least not that you’ve seen. But then you noticed one of the large chairs in front of it wasn’t empty. A white sleeve laid across the arm rest. You walked over out of pure curiosity, just to see who was awake at this ungodly hour like you. You craned your neck to see Lucifer sitting there frozen, his head down and eyes closed with his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked troubled. Before you could speak up, you heard him mumble under his breath.

“What the hell am I going to do…”

Worried, you outstretched your hand, but stopped short of touching his arm. “Sir?”

Lucifer’s eyes shot open instantly, turning his head to see you towering over him. He leapt from his chair completely startled and began stumbling backwards towards the fire pit.

“Watch out!” you warned, gripping his hand, and pulling him towards you. Lucifer held his breath, trying to process what had just happened. His head ended up flush against your chest, your face now feeling as hot as the flames in the pit. You let go of his hand and stepped away from him as fast as you could. Lucifer remained motionless. “I-I’m so sorry, your majesty! I didn’t mean for you to…I’m sorry!”

You finally heard Lucifer exhale. He stood up straight and fixed his wrinkled jacket, making every effort to not look you in the eyes.

“It’s alright, m-my dear,” he spoke softly, “no harm done. A-And please, call me Lucifer.”

“Okay. Lucifer,” you started, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you over here and I heard what you said and…is everything alright?”

Lucifer was tense again. You noticed him clench his fists. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “you just sounded worried about something.”

The king let out a sigh, letting his hands relax. “Thank you for your concern, I-I appreciate it. It’s nothing…nothing that you need to trouble yourself with. It’ll be fine.” Lucifer waved his hand, a portal now swirling open behind him, leading to his bedroom. “I think we should both get some sleep now. And t-thank you for catching me. Although, fire can’t harm me…b-but I appreciate the rescue nonetheless!” He was about to step through the portal when you caught his hand once more.

“Wait,” you said quietly. Lucifer looked down at the ground, still refusing to meet your gaze. You frowned. “Sir-I mean Lucifer…I wanted to ask you something. I need to know.” You felt his hand squeeze yours; he was tense again. “I-I’ve been feeling like I’m not welcome here by you.” Lucifer finally lifted his head, his eyes almost piercing your soul. He looked distraught at your words. You never noticed how beautiful his eyes truly were, the soft yellow complimented his pure white skin nicely. You blushed slightly but shook your head and tried to remember what you were saying. “I-I just mean, you seem to avoid me every time I’m near. If I’ve done something to upset you, I’m very sorry. And if you’d rather I’d not stay here, then…”

“NO!” he shouted, now gripping your hand with both of his. “I-I mean, no. You haven’t done anything wrong! Please…Please don’t leave. I should be the one apologizing if that’s truly how you’ve been feeling. I never want you to feel unwelcome here, especially not from me. It…It’s just that…I…” Before he could finish his explanation, his eyes dropped for just a split second before returning to yours. His gaze had somehow shifted into a more panicked expression. He let go of your hands immediately and stepped through his portal in a hurry. “I-I have to go, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t get another word out before his portal disappeared from view.

You stood alone in the parlor, alone and confused. The fire had died out, and you felt a shiver down your spine at the realization of how cold it had gotten without it. But you couldn’t let the conversation end there. You needed to know what was going on with him. You wouldn’t sleep until you did. Luckily, Lucifer’s room at the hotel was very easy to find.

You made your way up to his tower, replaying the scene in the lobby over and over in your head. Things were going well, weren’t they? He seemed so apologetic when you told him how you felt. And then he just…disappeared like he always does. You really didn’t mean to push the issue, but maybe you came on a little strong. Plus, your rescue of him was a little more than awkward. Not that you minded the closeness, even if it was fleeting. The picture of his head resting against your chest flashed in your mind repeatedly. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks once more now that you were now mere steps from Lucifer’s door.

Focus, you mentally scolded yourself, can’t think about that. It was an accident! It won’t happen again so just…focus. No wonder he ran!

You stood in front of his door now, your knees somehow weaker than they were a moment ago. Those mental images really didn’t help at all. With a deep inhale, you went to knock, but you stopped short when you heard something from beyond the door. You heard your name.

What?, you thought, How…How did he know I was here? Lucifer didn’t sound angry fortunately, but the inflection in his voice made him sound almost sad. And��breathless? You cracked open the door slowly, a little embarrassed at being caught. You went to open your mouth to apologize for the intrusion, but not even a whisper left your lips. Because what you saw in that room left you completely and utterly frozen where you stood.

Lucifer, the great ruler of Hell, was propped up against the obscene amount of pillows on his bed with his pants pooled at his ankles, his very much erect dick in his hand. His eyes were shut, he hadn’t seen you catch him in this extremely vulnerable state.

Run, run, run, RUN! your mind screamed. Everything in your brain was telling you to shut that door and get out of there as fast as you could. But your body refused to react, you remained motionless. You were completely entranced by the scene before you. You watched as Lucifer stroked his cock, mumbling a number of curse words with your name leaving his lips like a prayer.

“Hnng, G-God damn it-ffffuuuccckk….” Lucifer mumbled, his hand gradually picking up the pace as he stroked his shaft.

You tried to wrap your head around what you were seeing, but you were coming up blank. You couldn't believe this. He’s…He’s touching himself…to me?!? How is this…? Why would he…? Your brain was a jumbled mess at this point. It was really beyond your comprehension. You felt tension pool in your stomach at the sight of him becoming undone at the mere thought of you. The sinful sounds he was making went straight between your thighs, to the point where it became uncomfortable that you weren’t giving yourself any attention. The tiniest bit of you wanted to push open that door and give him what he really desired. But before you even begin to think about acting on your carnal instincts, you watched Lucifer's hips bucked up as he came all over his hand. It took every fiber of your being to hold in a whimper that threatened to escape your throat.

Lucifer’s breathing was labored, you watched him toss his arm over his eyes and throw his head back on the pillows. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" you heard him ask. "Why am I doing this?! It’s been months now and I’ve barely had a normal conversation with her! And of course, the only time I’ve really talked to her was after my damn head was forced against her…her…s-shit.” He waved his hand, a tissue appearing between his fingers. You watched as he cleaned himself up, thankful that he still hadn’t looked towards his door. Lucifer kicked himself out of his pant and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head hanging low. “And what an absolutely fantastic exit I made! “Sorry, gotta go! My dick is hard as a rock right now because of you!” Great job, Lucifer! No wonder she thinks I don’t want her here!” He sighed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t right. I need to stop being a coward and just tell her how she makes me feel…”

A small gasp escaped your lips.

Fuck.

Lucifer's head shot up immediately, his panicked eyes fixating on the door. You didn't even close it behind you as you took off sprinting down the hall, praying to anyone who could hear you that he didn't see you. You didn’t stop running until you made it back to your room, slamming the door behind you. Your knees gave out from under you as you dropped to the floor. In that second, it all clicked for you. Why Lucifer avoided you at every turn, why he tripped over his words when he spoke to you, and why he practically begged you not to leave the hotel.

Lucifer liked you. Lucifer really liked you. That thought alone could have made you scream if you weren’t trying desperately to hold yourself together. And it’s not like you didn’t have passing thoughts about him. He was gorgeous after all. But not only that, you saw how he acted with the others at the hotel. He was sweet, and silly, and fun, even though you never got to experience it firsthand. Now you knew where Charlie had gotten it from.

But of course, those thoughts never stayed. He didn’t like you, right? So instead of wallowing in what could never be, you thought it best not to dwell. But now…now those thoughts were coming back in full force. The aching between your legs only grew as the very fresh images of Lucifer naked and moaning in his bed flooded your mind.

There was a knock at the door.

“H-Hey,” you heard Lucifer’s voice on the other side, “it’s me. Can we talk?”

You didn’t dare move. You hid your head in your lap, pleading silently that he would give up and go away.

You heard him sigh. “I can see your shadow, you know.”

God damn it…

Slowly you rose from the floor, your trembling hand latching onto the doorknob. But your brain wouldn’t let you turn it no matter how hard you tried. How could you possibly face him after what you saw?

“Please?…”

The way he sounded so desperate; it was impossible not to give in. With a heavy sigh, the doorknob turned and you cracked open the door just enough to see Lucifer standing just outside, his glassy eyes looking into yours. You looked away immediately.

“Hi…” you whispered staring down at the ground.

He lowered himself in an attempt to get you to look at him again. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, opening the door inch by inch until he was able to step inside. You shut the door behind him, folding your arms over your body. You still hadn’t looked at him. The silence between you two was deafening, but you knew he wasn’t going to leave until you talked.

“I’m so sorry!” you both shouted simultaneously. “Wait, what?”

"Hold on now!" Lucifer interjected, "You have nothing to apologize for!"

"Of course I do!" you retorted. "I invaded your privacy when I watched...uhh, n-never mind." When you glanced in his direction, his entire face almost matched the pink circles on his cheeks. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him any longer. "I-It was an accident! I came up to apologize for scaring you off again. But...I heard you call my name a-and I just assumed you already knew I was outside, so I opened the door and...I'm so sorry, I should have knocked, and I should have left immediately…I-"

You didn't notice Lucifer make his way towards you, throwing his hands onto your shoulders and snapping you out of your spiral. "Hey, no more of that," he soothed. "I'm not angry, and I didn't come here to scold you. This is all on me."

You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. "B-But..."

"My dear, this is my fault, not yours," Lucifer cut you off, bringing his thumb up to cheek to wipe a tear that had fallen. He realized how close he'd gotten to you in his attempt to calm you down. Flustered, he stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. You already missed the closeness. "If you'd let me, I'd like to apologize and, you know, at least attempt to explain myself. Not that what happened was excusable. But if you'd rather I leave now, I'd more than understand. And I don't expect your forgiveness. I...just thought it best to apologize to you directly instead of continuing to avoid you and pretending like nothing happened. I'm deeply and truly sorry for everything."

You felt the sincerity in his words, and you saw the pain in his face thinking he had hurt you. You couldn't let him leave. Not yet.

"Stay...please..." you managed to respond. You made your way over to your bed and gestured for him to follow. You sat down crossed legged near the edge of the bed, Lucifer mirroring your actions. You took a deep breath before speaking once more. "I'm not angry with you either, you know."

A strange mixture shock and confusion flashed across Lucifer's face. "Y-You're not?"

You smiled wearily. "No, I promise. I mean, I'm a little taken aback..." Lucifer winced. "...but not in a bad way! If anything, I feel...flattered, you know?" Your face burned at your own candor. A quick glance at him showed he felt the same heat in his own cheeks.

"R-Regardless," Lucifer cleared his throat, "it was still wrong of me. I could try to give excuses about...my ex-wife being gone for more than 7 years now, or tell you that watching you from afar just sparked something in me that I hadn't felt in God know how long, or..."

"You've been watching me?" you teased, flashing him a small grin.

"Shhhhit, well, I uhh...only sometimes!" Lucifer tried to reason. "A-And not for very long! I just, umm, I just noticed how kind you are with everyone you come into contact with, and you're extremely helpful when it comes to the hotel! And your smile...I MEAN, uhh, C-Charlie absolutely adores you with the way she goes on and on about your progress! We both wonder how you even ended up down here in the first place. And well, you...you're," he gulped, "you're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on..."

You sat there frozen, your body trembling slightly. Your mind raced a million miles a minute. You tried to get your mouth so form any sort of words, but nothing. Lucifer started to panic.

"I-I'm sorry! That was really forward of me! I shouldn't have-I uhh...God, this is the worst fucking apology imaginable!" Lucifer brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes and lowering his head. "Maybe it would be best if I just g-MMPH!"

You don't know what came over you, but somehow your lips crashed into Lucifer's. His hands flew from his face, now gripping the bed sheets beneath him. He sat perfectly still, but only for a moment. He couldn't help but give into you, letting his eyelids flutter closed and melting under the kiss. You pulled away after only a few seconds, Lucifer leaning his head forward slightly, still needing more. His crimson irises had grown into saucers, his face hot as the sun. Having the literal King of Hell flustered beyond belief from a single kiss was a sight you absolutely wanted to see more of.

"If you think I'm beautiful, then you are someone who is beyond beauty, your majesty," you cooed. You weren't completely sure where this sudden burst of boldness had sprung from, but you liked it. And from what you were witnessing, all signs pointed to Lucifer being completely enamored with it as well.

You went back to your seated position, but now Lucifer was on all fours, crawling ever so slowly towards you. "P-Please..." he begged, "I-I need more..." His face was now mere inches away. He rested his forehead on yours, waiting for your lips to touch his again. The faint smell of apples that hugged his skin was intoxicating.

"You want me to kiss you again?" you asked playfully. "Then you need to tell me something, darling."

Lucifer's breathing had picked up at the sound the pet name you'd given him, his eyes screwed shut. "A-Anything!"

"Tell me then," you said as you began to stroke his soft blond hair, "what were you thinking about when you were touching yourself to me?"

Lucifer whimpered against you. "Anything but that! Please! I-I can't..."

You pulled your forehead away from his, still patting his hair. "I think it's a little too late to be shy now, my king."

A low moan escaped Lucifer's throat as he inched towards you once again. "I...I was thinking...about how wonderful you would taste on my tongue...." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I was thinking about how...how pretty your lips would look around my cock." A kiss to your left cheek. "I was thinking about watching you...fuck...watching you ride my cock until I have nothing left in me." A kiss to your right cheek. "But mostly...I was thinking about how badly I want you to be mine..."

Your lips met once more, and with even more vigor than before. His devilish tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging to delve in further. When your lips parted, your tongues had clashed with such voracity that it had knocked you down onto you bed, Lucifer now completely overtaking you. His hand found the back of your head and pulled you closer into the kiss which you didn't even think possible. With his body completely flat on top of you and even through your robe, it didn't take long for you to notice a certain bulge pressing against your stomach. You chuckled lightly, causing Lucifer to pull away, knowing exactly what you had felt.

"Ha...sorry...my uhh, my body has a mind of its own," he laughed nervously. "If this is too much for you, w-we can slow down. Or just stop completely! It's...It's been a while for me a-and I don't want you to be uncomfortable..."

You placed your hand on his shoulder and gently guided him off of you, putting him on his knees. In an instant, you tossed your robe to the side, revealing your cute black nightgown that left very little to the imagination. Lucifer sucked in a breath as he frantically started shedding his own clothes as well, removing his jacket and dress shirt in a manner that really emphasized his desperation for you. You couldn't help but stare at his bare chest and how it almost glistened in the faint lighting of your room.

"Do you think you're the only one who's body is reacting to this?" You shoved him down gently onto his back, his head now resting against your pillows. "But instead of just telling you, why don't you see for yourself?" You crawled up his body, dragging yourself against home until you straddled his chest.

"Oh, fuck me..." Lucifer almost inaudibly. He snaked his hands up the skirt of your nightgown until his hands reached them hem of your panties. He looked up at you expectantly, and with a final nod from you, you felt him tug your underwear down your legs. He pulled them down slowly, lifting one leg out first and kicking them off with the other. You gazed at him seductively, your glistening entrance now mere inches away from waiting lips. Lucifer's hands grazed up your thighs before stopping just before where you needed him most. Lucifer's breath hitched.

"It's alright," you reassured him. "Touch me. Please, Lucifer..."

"Ahh, wait!" Lucifer stopped his movements entirely. With a quick snap of his fingers, you heard your door lock itself. "We don't want another incident now, do we?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his theatrics, but it made you giggle, nonetheless. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're stalling!"

Lucifer laughed. "My sweet angel, if you've learned anything about me in last few minutes, it's that I couldn't wait another second longer for you even if I tried."

With those words, you felt his fingers finally find their way to your folds. It was like an electric shock had coursed through your entire body when he touched you. He'd barely begun and you were already soaking wet. His thumb found your clit instantly as he began to rub small circles around it, sending wave after wave of pleasure. You lifted your hips slightly so his figures could push their way inside of you. Words couldn't begin to describe how good he felt. He told you himself that it had been some time since he'd been with anyone, but there was no indication of this being the case as his two digits pumped in and out of you at a steady pace. He knew exactly what he was doing. You whimpered when you felt him pull his fingers out of you, only to watch him dip them into his mouth, cleaning off your slick entirely. "God, you're more delectable than I could have ever imagined! Please, let me taste you, all of you..."You blushed hard and nodded. You scooted yourself up further, hovering directly over his lips. "Still too far..." you heard him say before his hands latched onto your hips and forced you down so you were seated firmly on his face.

"L-Lucifer!" you cried weakly, trying to pull yourself up. You knew it was futile though. Damn him and his angelic strength.

"You won't hurt me, darling, I promise," he said with a wink. "Besides, breathing is overrated..." You felt his forked tongue immediately dart in and out of your drenched pussy. Your broken moans filled the room as he ate you out like it was his last meal. Lucifer switched between tongue fucking you and sucking on your sensitive nub at a relentless pace. That coil in your stomach was tightening with each movement he made.

"Lu-Luci-fer, o-oh my God, f-fuck, I-I can't." You tripped over every other word that left your lips. Your body started to tremble and your thighs shook violently as you felt your impending orgasm. "I-I'm gonna c-cum, gonna cum, oh SSHHHIIIIITTT-FUCKFUCKFUCK C-CUMMING!" You cried out helplessly as you felt your walls clench around nothing, your juices spilling out onto Lucifer's more than eager tongue. He rode you through your orgasm, lapping you up and not wanting to waste a single drop. You felt him release his hold on your hips so you could at last move back down to his chest. You stared at him wide eyed as he looked back at you with the biggest smile you've ever seen. You felt the heat rise up your neck and cheeks as you watched him lick up the rest of your release that hung on his chin.

"W-Wow, that was...fuck, that was amazing," Lucifer sighed. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine," you breathed, "more than fine. You...really know how to use that tongue of yours." Lucifer flashed you a toothy grin like he had just told you the worst joke imaginable. You wanted to hide your face but damn it, he was too adorable when he looked at you like that!

"Well, you got your first wish. Allow me to grant your next one..." You shimmied down his body until your face lingered above the very obvious strain in his pants. "Let's make you more comfortable shall we?" You unhooked his belt in mere seconds, his pants following soon behind, leaving him in nothing but his briefs that already had a large wet spot in the front.

Lucifer managed to prop himself up on his forearms, his blush spreading to his entire face. "Sweetheart, y-you don't have to do that, I'm fiii-iiiiii-oooh fffffuck..." Lucifer's protest were cut short when you had brought your hand up to palm his very apparent erection through his shorts.

"Now that's hardly fair, Luci," you scolded him, "I think I deserve my fill too, don't you?" Before Lucifer could choke out an answer, you hooked your fingers along his waistband and pulled his briefs all the way down his legs, freeing his painfully hard cock at last. You stopped for a moment to marvel at his length, having to stop yourself from drooling. "O-oh wow, that's umm...that's big..."

Lucifer chuckled nervously above you. "Y-Yeah, sorry about that. I think? Like I said, y-you don't have to-GAAHHH!" Without warning, you delicately gripped Lucifer's shaft, stroking it lethargically. Even though you were moving as slow as possible, the king was already a moaning mess. "S-Shit, you-fuck...feels so good..."

"Is this what you imagined, your highness?" you cooed, now rubbing your cheek against his cock in tandem with your hand. "I wanted to help you out earlier, you know that? When I saw you stroking yourself, I almost pushed opened that door so I could give you what you really wanted. But hey, better late than never!" You chuckled lightly as you licked up his shaft to the very sensitive head of his cock. The taste of his precum was addicting, you craved more. Lucifer writhed under your touch as his whimpers became music to your ears. You circled your tongue around the tip, earning a guttural moan from the man beneath you. You glanced up and noticed Lucifer's eyes were squeezed tight, with his claws digging into your sheets.

"Look at me," you ordered him while you continued to pump his cock. His chest rose and fell faster and faster as he forced his eyes open. "Good boy. I want you to keep your eyes on me." You smiled at him wickedly as you parted your lips and sunk down on his shaft.

"A-AHHH, OOOH FUCK!," Lucifer yelped as he fought against throwing his head back in pure bliss. Your warm mouth enveloped him, the taste of him was nothing short of divine. Your head continue you bob up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was a blabbering mess, only able to make incoherent noises. His ability to think had all but disappeared. All he could focus on was the immense pleasure your sinful tongue was providing. His breaths became shallow as your mouth lingered on his cock, refusing to move.

"I-I ca-FUCK...H-HOLY SHIT," Lucifer nearly screamed, his hips now bucking up uncontrollably, forcing you to take more and more of him. "CU-CUMMING, CUMMING...MMPH OHFUCKME!" With one final thrust, you felt his cock twitch, his hot seed filling your mouth. You sucked him off through his orgasm, taking in and swallowing every bit of cum he had. Once he'd finished, you finally let go with a small *pop*. You made your way up his body once more and hovered over his face with a giant grin. You opened your mouth to show him some cum you still had on your tongue before swallowing it down gleefully.

Lucifer's hands flew to his face immediately upon watching you. "I can't believe you just did that! How am I ever going to recover?!"

You laughed as you pulled his hands away from his face, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. He happily returned your kiss, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips under your nightgown. Lucifer leaned his head back on the pillows and tugged at the hem. "May I?"

"Of course," you nodded. He helped raise your nightgown, lifting it up and easily tossing it over your head and onto the floor. You sat up straight, straddling his stomach and giving him a very nice view of your breasts. "I know you've already felt them once tonight, but I'll let you touch them again if you ask nicely."

"Oh, ha ha," Lucifer mocked playfully, "very funny. That was technically your fault! I didn't just lay on your chest for fun, you forced me there when you pulled me away from the fire!"

You smirked and took ahold of his wrists. "Do you want to touch my tits or not?"

"...Yes, please..."

Smiling, you brought his hands to your breasts. A soft hum emitted from both of you as Lucifer began to knead at your soft mounds, his thumbs running over your sensitive nipples. Suddenly, he started to roll them between his thumb and index fingers, causing you to squeak in surprise. He sat up quickly, pushing you back so that you were now kneeling on the bed and hovering over his thighs. He took one nipple into his mouth as he continued his ministrations on the other. You moaned at the sensation, taking your hand and holding the back of his head for support. He switched sides, making sure your other nipple got the same amount of attention. The feeling of his teeth grazing you nipple sent shivers down your spine.

"Luci," you whispered into his ear. "you had one more fantasy you told me about, did you not?" Lucifer pulled away from your breasts, his eyes wide and full of anxiety. You could feel his heartbeat racing as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"O-Only if you want to," his muffled voice reverberated off your skin.

"Yes, I do." You pushed Lucifer back down gently, noticing his cock was already hard again even without any further stimulation. "My, my, eager are we?"

"Very much so, yes," Lucifer whined.

"You're adorable, you know that?" you praised. Lucifer blushed hard and tried to cover his face once more before you pinned his hands above his head. "Don't you dare hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart. I want to see every single little cute expression you make once you're inside me." A small whimper left his mouth as you released your grip on his hands. You shifted yourself in order to line up your entrance with the tip of his cock, slowly rubbing it between your slick folds. "Are you ready?"

Lucifer gasped and threw his head back in response. "Y-Yes, please...need you...need to feel you..."

You began to sink down on his length, feeling him stretch you out beyond what you ever felt before. A beautiful mix of pain and pleasure coursed through you as you finally bottomed out on his cock, both of your moans echoing off the walls. Tears pricked your eyes as he filled you completely, as if you felt whole, now connected as one. You shifted your hips ever so slightly, but it was enough for Lucifer sit himself upwards and wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace.

"You really f-feel like heaven," Lucifer breathed. "P-Please...please say you'll be mine..."

A single tear drifted down your face, and your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest at any moment. You eagerly returned his embrace, wrapping your arms around him and bringing him as close to you as you possibly could. “I’m yours, Lucifer.” You cupped his face in your hands and brough your lips to his, sealing your promise. Feeling him twitch inside of you, you lifted your body off of him and gently sank back down. You swallowed Lucifer's moans as you continued your pace, bucking your hips and taking all of him with each sharp thrust. Lucifer's hands flew to your hips as he helped you up and down his aching cock.

"F-Fuck, y-you're killing me here, darling, I-HNNG...I'm close..." Lucifer sobbed was your pace became relentless. His hips were now rutting into you as he slammed you down onto him. Your eyes had crossed and drool began to pour down the side of your lips. You were absolutely and unashamedly cock drunk. The tightening in your stomach became almost unbearable, your release was fast approaching and so was his. "FFFFUUUUCCKK, g-gonna cum, g-gonna-ACK, c-can I?..."

"Inside L-Luci," you pleaded, "inside...fill me n-now-GAH F-FUCK, C-CUMMING!" Your walls clenched around his thick cock, pulsating relentlessly as Lucifer continued to pound into you making your vision blur. Your cries mixed with his as you felt him empty inside of you. The grip you had on him loosened as his wings suddenly sprouted out from behind him, catching you by surprise. Lucifer didn't seem to notice, too overtaken by his orgasm. He bit down on your shoulder harshly to keep himself from screaming while his hot seed continued to pour into you. Your muscles finally relaxed as you both came down from your highs. Lucifer's tongue lapped at the mark he had left on you, soothing the sore spot. But now that he'd given you your first mark, all you wanted to do was beg for more.

"S-Sorry about that," he smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean to bite you so hard." He turned his head, finally noticing his ruffled wings. "O-Oh! Well...that's new."

You chuckled. "Your wings are beautiful, Lucifer." You ran your fingers over a few of his scarlet feathers; they were the softest things you've ever felt. His wing folded towards your touch, now almost fully engulfing the two of you. "Wait, are you apologizing for marking me? I'm yours, am I not? Now I have proof!"

Lucifer buried his face in your chest. "L-Love, you can't say things like that! You're gonna drive me insane!"

"Love?" you repeated.

He shot his head up in a panic. "I-uhh...is that okay?"

You kissed his lips tenderly. "It's more than okay, love."

You watched his wings puff up at your words, his smile wider than you've ever seen before. You then carefully pulled yourself from his lap and laid down ever so gently on his one set of wings while the other set wrapped around your body. Lucifer wrapped his arms around you once again, now feeling a double layer of protection and comfort.

"Thank you," he murmured against your ear.

"No, thank you," you whispered back. "It was wonderful, truly. And at least now I can stop worrying about whether or not you hate me!"

You heard a small hum leave Lucifer's lips. "That couldn't be further from the truth, my dearest." A placed a small peck to your forehead. "Do you...mind if I stay here tonight?"

You shook your head. "I wouldn't let you leave even if you wanted to," you teased. "You're mine now too." Fatigue flooded your body as you yawned and felt your eyelids fall. You snuggled your head against Lucifer's chest before unconsciousness had taken over.

"Forever," was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep in Lucifer's arms.

~~~

WHY THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG IS BEYOND ME, HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAYS!

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[minsyal]

Until the End

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

SPOILER WARNING!! This has A LOT of spoilers for the next season of the show.

Summary: Aemond informs his wife of his impending battle. (Sorry if it’s kinda bad, just an idea after I read the book and I mean, he’s dreamy in a troubled kinda way.)

“A fortnight, then.”

Flame-lit logs crackled within the stone hearth, answering her words like a captivated audience. The murmur of gossiped tripe ached in her bones the same way it had since the beginning of her husband’s family affairs.

“I thought it right to tell you.” He replied with mixed emotion in his tone.

Ignoring him, she focused herself on the fiery embers as they rose upward, disappearing beyond the chimney’s base. Shades of bursting orange and flickering crimsons cast dramatic shadows across the contours of her warming skin. A rose blush crept onto her cheeks, and yet she pulled her shawl further around her shoulders.

“She is pregnant.” It would have been a question if not for the glaring truth of it all strewn upon his face. “Heavily pregnant.”

There was a distinct hesitance in the words that passed his lips next. He wondered if she had known all along; perhaps he had not hidden his affairs to the extent of his thoughts. Anyone with eyes or ears would have known. Yet, he had convinced himself that out of everyone it would not be she who held disbelief in his alignment.

“My love,” his words died as her anger erupted and flowed slowly from the tenseness of her shoulders.

“Do not.” Bitter as a soured fruit, her words were cut from her tongue. He opened his mouth to speak but was hushed by her calm rage. “If those words should ever leave you again, you will not have a tongue. I have dedicated myself to you, my life, my cause, everything.” She wouldn’t meet his eye. “You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. So, I only implore you for this and this only. When is the child due and will it be you who claims it as your own?”

Their relationship had never been a tumultuous one. Often they sailed upon smooth waters, their portage was met with clear skies and an outlook on the vast openness that was their journey together. But something was always lurking just below its surface. While his anger came in outbursts and pointed attacks, hers was more subtle and subdued. Her ferocity slithered beneath her exterior, only showing itself in passive quips, sharp words, and the intense avoidance of her gaze.

In truth, she was never more than a passing glance. Her beauty was outshined by that of her mother or even that of her grandmother. While desirable, she was often overlooked in a room of people. She was an always present individual, even if it were only physical and not of heart and mind. Countless times she was given grandiose offers for her hand by the endless barrage of scrambling lords who wanted to better their position and house’s prestige. Countless times she would hear whispers of their denials and the subsequent mild rage that seethed from the men’s bodies who were often more than twice her age. Even those who had attempted to court her mother in her blooming years had thought it right to do the same to her, expecting a different outcome. But it was their mistake, for they did not realize she was promised to another.

“I cannot give you information I do not have.”

His fingernails, though cut short and clean, dug crescents into the palms of his hands.

“Then you will contest it? You will deny to me in this instant that her child is yours? You will tell me that you have not taken her to your bed?”

“I can tell you whatever you would like to hear, my love. But I cannot promise the truth to my word.”

“Then I do not wish to hear it.” She sighed, but in a way that oozed resentment opposed to one of defeat. “Leave me.”

The weight of his stare pushed harshly against the vibrancy of her being. It swirled around in the air like smoke and ash, threatening to envelop her whole and take her to darkness. “I will not.” He defied her demand, standing firm just steps away from where she had positioned herself to watch the burning wood that warmed the room.

“You will do as I demand and leave me.” His steps were heavy as he drew closer, halted by her speaking once more. “Leave me.” The veins of her neck were strained, pumping blood viciously to her face causing it to blush a shade of pink. Yet, she continued to not meet his eye.

Even when he laid his hands upon her shoulders and shook her body wholly, she flouted her vision and expelled him from her line of view. He gripped her frantically, grasping at her upper and lower arms as he searched her for a semblance of the woman he knew.

“Look at me!” He repeated, growing more and more discontented. The pupils of his lilac eye vacillated from a pin-prick to an endless abyss. “I command you to look at me!”

It was almost childish. The two of them battled in distinctly different ways. He let his anger bubble to the surface and spill from his edges, while she preferred to not give people the satisfaction of seeing her hurt. They were both terribly flawed in their processes.

“Look at me!” He was yelling now.

“You cannot command anything of me.” She refused, choosing to focus on the golden clasps of his tunic that had been marred in dried brown blood. Whose, she did not know, but the sight of it left a poor taste upon her tongue.

“I can. You forget your place in the hierarchy.” His gloved fingers burnt against her skin. “Allow me to remind you,” he lowered his chin to rest upon her shoulder where his words vibrated from his chest to hers, “I am your lord husband and you are my lady wife. I am prince regent, my word is law.”

She could feel his resolve softening slightly as the steady beating of her heart and the softness of her breasts soothed his rugged rage. She could give in. She could allow him to coax her back to the ground where his iron heart kept him planted to the solid surface. There were many things she could have done and she chose the worst of them. All the hurt he had put her through was festering in her stomach, twisting and turning her insides in a wild rage. He had killed her brother and cousin, waged war against her mother and step-father, and kept her concealed within the Red Keep until they could be sure of her alignment. To top it all off, he had defiled her trust in him as a partner. He had taken another woman to bed.

“You cannot command anything of me as your command comes from your false claim to the throne.”

A crack in her voice was the only emotion in her words.

“You wear the conqueror’s crown yet have conquered nothing except for a common whore.”

He pushed himself backward in a way that did not use her body to project him so. Her feet remained planted and firm, unswaying in the storm that brewed in his chest.

Thundering and electrifying below the surface, he writhed in the sheets she had laid out before him in the bed he had made himself. He aimed to hurt. Taunting was his warfare and striking words were his blade.

“At the very least, my Alys can bear me children whereas you have failed at your only responsibility to me.” He took a step backward and composed himself, lifting his jaw and peering at her from the top of his cheek. Only when she finally brought her eyes to his did he turn it back down to stare down the bridge of his nose. “A fortnight, then.”

He turned on his heel and left his wife alone with her thoughts. If he had stayed a moment longer, he would have seen her shoulders tremble and her hand coast along the bodice of her gown. All the pain of his words was on display in her glassy eyes. All the rejection of his movements slowly burnt the bridge that connected them.

On day thirteen she remained locked in her chambers, hiding amongst the quilted sheets of her bed. No handmaiden or guard dare bother her and any movement on her behalf would have been reported to the prince who lingered on the grounds.

She only saw the moonlight on days twelve and eleven, waking from fitful dreams to an empty bed. Aemond had not warmed her sheets for months, constantly gone to battle and in the arms of another.

She emerged from her silken cocoon on day ten, wrapping herself in a black shawl before lingering in front of the fire for the remainder of the day. Homely sounds of her nieces and nephews pattering feet, her grandmother's anxious words, and the general organized chaos of the castle were ghosts in her ears. The room where she stayed now was not home. It was a prison. At first she thought it loving of her husband to take her to safety, to conceal her away from the battles. But the longer she remained, the more she grew to resent him.

On day nine, she was served a brothy soup that smelled of fresh thyme and flavored oil. It settled uncomfortably in her stomach and the heart of her meal was left in the bowl to chill in the midnight air.

It wasn’t until day eight that she finally stepped back into the land of the living where nothing had changed from the way she left it days prior. A guard noted her exit and promptly left, likely gone to alert the prince of her movements. A handmaiden, no older than she, guided her through the corridors, careful to not lead her in the direction of her husband’s new chambers.

“My lady, the prince requests you join him in his study.”

She continued past the guard who had been sent to summon her, her feet carrying her in the opposite direction.

The gardens were mild and temperate with summer flowers in bloom that seemed to cascade like waterfalls down the sides of the castle’s old stone walls. Colors of vibrant blues and pearlescent white were sprinkled about, contrasted by the brilliant deep green of the growing ivy.

Her handmaiden kept two steps behind her, occasionally picking a fallen leaf or petal out of the dress’s train. Otherwise, the two walked in a calming silence until she returned to her chambers for the remainder of the night.

On the seventh day, a sennight until her husband's battle, she woke to a bouquet of fresh heliotropes. They were all shades of purple, some amethyst and others deep like obsidian. She did not need to ponder long who they had come from. They were the same flower that adorned the Red Keep’s great hall on the day they wed. Eternal love was symbolized in the flower’s petals, but the definition of eternal seemed to end in the sheets of Harrenhal.

On the sixth day, she again spent her time awake in the middle of the night. Her room in the Holdfast overlooked some of the gardens where only guards patrolled at this late hour. However, she was not in the Holdfast. Dragonstone had become her new home. She sat in the window, a velvet shawl draped over her shoulders, bathing in the moonlight. There was vastly more to see here. From her perch, she could see the grounds below, a small village, and the empty ocean that reminded her of her father.

She wondered what her mother was doing. After being locked within the Red Keep, she lost all contact with the outside world. Any news of the war was only fed to her though eavesdropping either on maids or her cousins. It was rare for her to think about the consequences of her family’s actions, but with nothing else to distract her, her mind wandered. When she arrived in Dragonstone it got worse. All news of the war stopped as if everyone had been instructed to keep it a secret from the princess.

She thought back to the day she was told she was to marry her cousin. Her mother had taken her into the gardens and walked with her for hours. The two walked endlessly through the ivy and wisteria, eventually making their way into the less traveled pathways. Rhaenyra told her that she was betrothed and from that day forward she took her duties as a wife very seriously.

Until the day Rhaenyra and Laenor left for Dragonstone, she was counseled by the Queen, her grandmother and soon-to-be mother in law. Alicent had taken to the girl like her own daughter. She instilled a deep sense of duty and honor into her moral code, encouraging her to age with grace and the makings of a royal. The young girl enjoyed her time with both her mother and grandmother, but especially the moments she spent with her future husband.

Deep in her heart, she knew the days of married bliss were mere memories she had built with rose-colored glasses. She wondered if they were ever truly happy together.

On the third day, she emerged from her chambers clad in a gown of black and gold. Thick brocade fabric formed soft pleats that barely grazed the ground beneath her feet as she walked. A necklace of gold and sapphire laid delicately against her collarbone. She was tired of playing the part of a broken woman. Whether she liked it or not, she was the first born daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon. Laying down in defeat was not an option on the table.

Again, the prince regent called for his lady wife. Again, she did not heed his request, instead making her way through the halls of Dragonstone where she would eventually find herself standing at the edge of the cranberry bog where small pink flowers swirled together like a sunset sea. Come autumn they would be red fruits, ready to flavor the season.

“You have been avoiding me.”

The voice jostled her from her thoughts.

There, no more than ten feet back, stood her husband. He wore his usual attire, blackened leather with sleeves that came to his wrists. Platinum blonde hair was less tame than usual, wild strands framing his face in a delicate yet dangerous way. The sun glistened against his sapphire eye, matching the way it did against her necklace.

A simple nod in agreement was all she gave. It was easier to turn her back to him and let the past consume her.

“My,” he stopped himself. “I want to talk.”

“Then talk. Nobody is stopping you.”

His body pressed into hers in an intimate way it had not in ages. Long steps drew him near and the warmth of his waist was pressed into her side as he found his footing in the grass. His arms were latched behind his back with one hand cradling his other’s fingers.

“I remember the first time we properly met as betrothed children. You were a child of eight and I, nine. My mother had just denied a proposed betrothal between Helaena and Jacaerys.

My mother proposed a union between us. We were the leftover children, naturally we suited one another. You had just returned from the godswood and we were made to dine together.” The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “You hated every minute of it.”

“As did you.”

“I knew my duty was to you, to be a good husband for you, but I did not know you. Then you moved here. I had tried writing to you on multiple occasions, but the words never came to me naturally. I knew what to write, but without emotion it felt disingenuous. I wanted to be genuine.

However, at nine, I cared little for marriage. I wanted to be stronger, a better swordsman. I wanted a dragon, a true symbol of Targaryen power.

When Laena passed and we met again in Pentos, you were a different person. A year older and entirely different. You were the only one in your family to stand by my side when I was injured. I remember the way you screamed at your brother, telling him it was over and that violence was not the way. The sound of your screaming still rings in my ears as I tried to stop the bleeding. I can still feel your trembling hands as you tore the hems of your dress to give me the fabric. I can see the way your brothers seethed at the sight of it all.”

A breeze brought off the cliff side rustled the ruching of her gown. It had been many years since she thought back to that day. As a child of nine she was far beyond her years of maturity. Some would tell her she was the perfect bride for her husband-to-be. Calm in temper, she would tame the other who was constantly on edge.

“They loathed me for years afterward. My step sisters never quite forgave me.”

“And yet, you remain by my side.”

She laughed bitterly, tucking her chin to her chest as she angled her head away from him. “And yet, I do.”

Hesitancy was not a trait carried by the prince regent. In fact, there had rarely if ever been a time in which he had not displayed a self-assured attitude in every aspect of his life. But in that moment, with an outstretched arm, he hesitantly placed his ungloved hand to the small of her back.

A burst of uncomfortable tension crawled beneath her gown, spreading to her sides and shoulders in a crushing wave. She stiffened, eyes cast downward to the grass. It was only when his fingers, long and nimble, began to rub small circles of familiar softness. He had often done this since their union. Especially so when in the unforgiving presence of her step father and mother who grew to regret agreeing to wed the two.

“Do you regret it?��� Aemond asked, his focus now shifted to the side of his wife’s face. He could see the turmoil in her creased brow in the way her eyes squinted and lip upturned. “For even a moment?”

The answer came with a surge of relief and confusion.

“No.”

How could she not regret it, he wondered. For all that he had put her through: the separation from her family, the loss of those closest to her, the grief of miscarriage, and the pain of intense heartbreak stemming from his adultery. He had stolen the comfortable life she lived from her and crumpled it beneath his shoe the moment she was promised to him.

A part of him wanted to shake her as he did a week prior. He wanted to scream and demand a reasonable answer as to why she does not resent the relationship. Every fiber of his being was set aflame with confusion.

“No?” He repeated. The hand placed on her side grasped at her waist to turn her body in his hold. Only when the tip of his finger coaxed her chin from her chest did she meet his gaze.

Wetness pooled at the rims of her eyes, clawing through her lower lashes to stream down her sunken cheeks. She was not one to cry. Even after the loss of her first, she did not publically shed a tear. “No.”

Aemond felt his betrayal, then.

The feeling bubbled in his stomach, churching uncomfortably in a wild whirlpool of emotion. It threatened to come up his throat, leaving long gashes of red hatred in his body. Each tear she shed was like a hole burst in his chest. The iridescent droplets were reminders of his sacred vow broken.

He choked on his response, leaving her an open stage to speak.

“Please, do not choose her over me. I have lost all, I cannot lose you too.”

Whatever was left of his heart shattered as he found his eye glassy, blurring with the same salted tears as hers.

He suddenly pulled her close, his hand smoothing down the back of her head to bring her to his chest. Horrible sobs racked through her body causing her shoulders to quake as his hands desperately tried to soothe her. “Never, my love.”

~*~

“I sent the whore away.” Aemond walked with purpose, coming to stand before his wife who was seated at a table with a steaming cup of tea. His fingers were latched behind his back.

It was two days until his battle was set to take place.

A slight nod was given, gradually turning into a full one as his wife placed her cup down onto the table. “That’s… good. That is good.”

Bile still rose in her throat every time she thought of the woman. Older and more mature than she, Alys Rivers was her name. A common bedwhore from Harrenhal was her occupation and she bore no name of any relevance as she was a bastard. What had been so enticing about her that he would break his sacred vow?

“Your happiness in the situation is lost on me.” The seat across from her was filled with Aemond’s presence as he quickly filled the empty space.

“No.” She interjected. “I am very happy. Truly.”

The storm of emotion in her features said otherwise.

“But something still ails you.”

She got lost in the plumes of steam that rose from her cup, floating into the stagnant air as if being pulled up by strings. “It is nothing. A simple insecurity, not a problem to breathe life into any longer.”

“It is my infidelity, is it not?”

Looking like a child who had been caught out of bed, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at her husband.

“She is a witch.” Aemond stated as if it were a common thing. “She has visions; she sees things in the clouds and flames. I cannot explain it. She used potions to cause my eye to wander.” Holding his wife’s gaze, he slumped his shoulders and let his back arch to rest his forearms on his thighs. “I should have been stronger. I should have seen through that witch-” he grew angrier but she was not sure if it was in truth, “that whore’s facade. I should not have let myself cause you, my beautiful wife, any pain.”

His head slipped into his palms, forehead cradled and fingers tangled in his platinum locks.

“How am I to know your words hold truth?” She watched as Aemond shook his head.

“It was a lapse in my rational judgment. I will always return to you, my love.” In a low strained tone he breathed his words. “She means nothing to me.” But his unwillingness to use her name, Alys, made her doubt his statement.

It did not take long for his wife to thrust herself from her seated position and move to kneel at his side. Her dress collected dust as she lowered herself to peer beneath the curtain of hair that blocked his face.

“She is not our problem now.” Assuring words were what his wife needed to hear, not him. But she could not resist the way he pulled at her heartstrings. “We will move forward together. The war will end and we can find peace in our lives. I am still young, we will find a way to bring healthy children into our lives.”

Conflict, she found, was not a flattering color to bathe in. There was nary a time that the Targaryen dynasty did not partake in one form of insanity or another. It was written in their fates to continually live in turmoil. Even those that tried to keep peace sprouted seeds of distress in their descendants or amongst their people.

Aemond and the princess were no exceptions.

They had wed hastily but were able to get through the evening without a duel or death. Viserys II’s health was failing him. Though able to walk still, he struggled in his everyday life. The princess was sent from Dragonstone to Kings Landing where she had a quick ceremony that her direct family did not attend. This attributed to her feelings for her husband. She found comfort in his presence. He was there when others were not.

Her life felt as if it were out of her control. From the moment she was brought into her cruel world others were planning her future and she was locked in her gilded cage. With Aemond, she felt like she was in control. Though the truth in that could be debatable.

They laid together that night for the first time in many and possibly the last. Memories of brighter times had been shared as they basked in the afterglow, lit by only the moon. He had more scars than she remembered. While still lean and pale, cuts of bright pink and burnt auburn were spliced across his torso. Distinct claw marks were marred into his shoulder blades, reminders of his infidelity.

It was almost as if they could talk to her as she counted them in the moonlight. Aemond had turned in his sleep, his back to her. Displayed like an open canvas, she couldn’t help but find her mind shrouded by hurt and anger again as the name burst into her ears. Alys Rivers, the whore, the bedmate, the bastard, and the woman who caught her husband’s wandering eye. She cringed as she tried to picture her. Surely she at least had wrinkles. There had to be a flaw to her appearance. As hard as the princess tried, she could only picture a woman of beauty.

Lost in her insecurities, she had not noticed that Aemond had turned over and now studied his wife’s face as it twisted and contorted. He knew what was troubling her. Instead of lying, telling her that Alys was a horrid woman, he said nothing and took her into his arms. Crushing her in his embrace, he held her like it would be the last time he could. He memorized her shape, her smell, her warmth and her love. His eyes closed and he rested his chin atop her head.

“I love you.” He whispered into the night, unsure if she heard him or not as her chest rose and fell like a metronome keeping a beat. “I love you.” He repeated, holding her tight as he willed himself to sleep knowing what was to come the next day.

~~~*~~~

“Stay.”

Her hand caught his as he made his way toward Vhaegar, dressed in his charcoal armor. The helm was down, concealing his face within.

“Aemond, please.”

The full grasp on his wrist halted him in his tracks. The beast let out a low grumble, growing impatient as its rider stood motionless on the cliff side. A gentle breeze blew in, bringing with it salted air that watered her tongue.

“I will return.” Assurance in the face of death was just words on the breeze, taken far away before they could drop like seedlings and plant themselves in her mind.

“Whole and alive with a beating heart or in memory?”

His hand, though covered in a thick leather glove, came to rest upon her cheek. The other pulled the visor of his shining helm up to reveal his contrasting eyes. “Do you doubt my abilities, my love?”

“Not for one moment.”

His palm pressed against her cheek, lingering longer than he intended as she leaned into his touch. Lashes fanned across her skin, fluttering softly as her lips pressed into a fine line, holding back whatever emotion was within.

“I will return. I vowed to protect you, until my very last day. That day will not be today.” Though he could not press his lips to hers, he drew her in close, holding her firmly against him. “Wait by the ocean until the sun dips below the horizon. I will be here by your side the moment the world is cast into darkness.” He held her back, staring deeply into her eyes. “I promise, my love. I will return.”

She cried as he turned and mounted Vhaegar. Tears streamed from her reddened eyes as he waved her off with another proclamation of his return. Even the frightful blasts of warm summer air could not dissuade the constant river that bled onto her cheeks.

It was late when her sobs ceased and the whisper of prayer died on her lips. The protective light of the day had fled from the sky leaving her cast in darkness and broken promises. Her knees had formed deep grooves in the fine sand where they landed hours before. Fists full of earth could not move the clock backward. Aemond was lost to the wind.

Grief kept her going in the deep midnight hours as she gazed into the distance where Westeros lied. Every speck in the sky had her heart beating faster than before. Each turned out to be nothing. It was only when the morning came and the world continued forward that she moved from her spot. The tide had brought water in around her thighs, soaking her dress through.

She ached like nothing else in the following days. It was as if she could feel every wound her husband had endured. Her dreams were haunted all the same. Blue eyes stared at her through the misty haze that rolled in. Aemond filled her thoughts. At night, she could see him in the darkness looming in the corner of her room.

Word of his death eventually made it to Dragonstone. Mention of his Alys occupying Harrenhal was floated by the guards. How he had brought her to the battle, kissed her passionately, and died in the skies only posed as daggers thrust into her heart.

It wasn’t until years later that Aemond returned to Dragonstone, to his wife. Though, she did not greet him on the beach. She met him in the crypts, sealed away in stone tombs left to collect dust.

She had died of a chill in 133 AC, taking her final breaths on that same sandy beach.

Although not by his doings, he had kept his promise. Brought back in a box of black and red sealed tight with dark metal, Aemond was laid to rest at his wife’s side.

I will return.

[aryburn-trains]

The northbound Coastal Classic emerges from the trees in the Hooligan Block a mile north of Portage. This is the first accesible location after leaving Moose Pass over 30 rail miles and 50 road miles away. June 16, 2011

[arokel]

Forever betrayed that George Clooney didn't spend his massive budget on filming in Washington state so here's some old Seattle photos from the 30s/very early 40s to make me feel better (individual photos + explanations under the cut!)

Looking down from Capitol Hill over Lake Union towards Queen Anne

Overlooking Portage Bay and the UW campus

Seattle's Hoovertown in Elliot Bay, with the Kalakala ferry in the distance

The Kalakala up close and in person! There she is!! (Pier 2 near Fisherman's Wharf, facing downtown)

Aerial view of the UW campus, including Drumheller Fountain

Looking over Drumheller Fountain towards Husky Stadium

Tugboat passing under the University Bridge, headed for the Aurora Bridge along Lake Union

UW students rowing along the Montlake Cut, with the Montlake Bridge in the background

Students rowing among sailboats on Lake Union

[moongazeonastarfillednight]

The Terror: When, How, Where... (PART 1)

See part 2 for the end of my sanity (ep 6 through 9. Wasn't enough characters left on the post for ep 10)

See part 3 (and episode 10)

As I am writing the fic, I was getting frustrated at trying to figure out the timeline of the expedition. More specifically, what happens after they dropped the Victory Point Note.

Therefore, in order to organize my ideas, and also because it might be of interests to some of you, I will document here what I got.

Episode 1 through 5 for now.

Methodology

If we agree that the showrunners (and Dan Simmons to an extent) made their research, we should be able to match some of the event of the story with notable point of interests where artefacts and/or remains were found over the numerous searches made to ascertain the fate of the Franklin Expedition

I also tried to take note of all indications of time passing so that I might document their speed travel and the dates when they are not mentioned.

... And the death count. (Departing Beechey Island with 24 officers and 102 men)

Finally, I also used the following website to keep track of sunrises and sunsets: https://www.timeanddate.com/

1927 Admiralty Map

I may be an amateur in this kind of research but I find myself frustrated that the most complete map I've been able to find showing all that was found between 1850 and 1926 is shown on this map from 1927

To be noted, we now know that the Skeleton of H. Peglar was more probably W. Gibson or T. Armitage

The Skeleton of Lt. Le Vesconte has also been reevaluated and is now believed to be that of Harry Goodsir ( :( )

Also, as it happens, if we compare to 2024 maps, we can say that this is not the actual shape of KWI (close enough!).

Therefore, for my own sanity, I recreated with modern maps. Is it accurate? Well, I wouldn't publish it but I think it gives a good enough view of where they went and where they were going:

Where the Ships had drifted to in June 1847 (According to G. Gore's coordinates left on the Victory point note)

Where the Ships had drifted with the Pack by April 1848 (Victory Point Note)

Victory Point

McClintock's Boat Place (proposed to be same location as NgLJ-1)

Camp with Many skeletons

From D. Simmons' The Terror - The Hospital Camp

Peglar Skeleton

Starvation Cove

A Bunch of cairns in the area

Harry Goodsir

Gjoa Haven (Netsilik Settlement)

Fort Resolution (Dear God... look at how far they wanted to walk/Canoe/make portage...)

Matching the Show

Episode 1 - Go for Broke

Location 1 - David Young's grave (71.22, -96.60)

Date: September 5th 1846

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 14h 57 min

Twilight - 9h 03 min

Sunset: 7:51 PM - Sunrise: 4:55 AM

David Young was buried 7 days before they were beset in the ice (see point 3 on the map below).

During the dinner in which we were regaled by the tale of Mr. Fitzjames' Holes, Franklin discuss that they were approaching a bigger channel, which is now know as the McClintock Channel (see point 1 on the map below), meaning that at the time, they were still in the Franklin Strait.

On the day after his death, Franklin discuss their next course and assure that they must be 'nearly in sight of KW Land'. Crozier suggests it might take them weeks to actually make it to KWI. This would confirm what was infer above.

As we can see the two ships fitting in a cozy little cove while the grave is being dug, I would like to propose Point 4 on the map below as Ficitonal David Young's final resting place, on Tasmania Islands

Location 2 - Ships September 1846 (70.25, -98.00)

Date: September 12th 1846

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 13h 45 min

Twilight - 10h 15 min

Sunset: 7:19 PM - Sunrise: 5:34 AM

Well, for this one, we need to use the extrapolation provided by the 1927's Admiralty map by tracing the line from where the ships were known to be in 1847 and 1848 (Point 5 and 6). (see point 3)

For Future Reference:

Travel Time between Loc 1 and Loc 2 - 7 days

Distance between Loc 1 and Loc 2 :70 NM / 80 Miles / 130 km

Average Travel Speed - 11.4 miles a day

Travel Condition - Ice breaking

DEATH COUNT: 2 + 3 (Total 5)

24 Officers and 100 Men remaining

Episode 2 - Gore

Location 3 - The Ships in 1847 (70.15, -98.30)

Date: May 24th 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Coordinates and Date From the Victory Point Note (see Point 1)

Location 4 - The Cairn (69.66, -98.27)

Date: May 28th 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

From the ships, Gore lead his party to James Clark Ross' Cairn.

Now, in the Show, they found JCR's Cairn without an issue. In reality, while Gore had found the Cairn just fine, Crozier and Fitzjames did not. One of the reason for it is that JCR had, apparently, made a miscalculation in reporting where he had erected the Cairn by several miles. Honestly, the way that Fitzjames had written the words was so confusing, I appreciate that the show made the whole thing so much simpler, ahah. So let's say that it matches what we know now as Victory Point. Easy Peasy! (see Point 2)

To be Noted, we know the dates of departure from ships and arrival at cairn from the Victory Point Note.

Location 5 - The Ice Camp (69.665, -98.32)

Date: May 28th 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

The Camp was raised just beyond the ice ridge that blocked the way form the shore and the Cairn was only a mile or so away. (see Point 3... hidden between point 2)

Of Note: That hail storm's cloud coverage was intense to say the least... So dark :')

Back to Loc 3 (70.15, -98.30)

Date: June 2nd 1847

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Wednesday is a good day to drink with the Captain :D which makes it the Wednesday following May 28th 1847! So it's June 2nd!

For Future Reference:

Loc 2 to Loc 3

Travel time - 8 months, 12 days or 254 days

Travel Distance: 8.6 NM / 10 miles / 16 km

Average Travel Speed - 0.04 miles a day

Travel Condition - Pack drifting

Loc 3 to Loc 4/5

Travel time - 5 days

Travel Distance: 29 NM / 33.5 miles / 54 km

Average Travel Speed - 6.7 miles a day

Travel Condition - 6 Men hauling Sledge on Ice

Loc 4/5 Back to Loc 3

Travel time - 4 days

Travel Distance: 29 NM / 33.5 miles / 54 km

Average Travel Speed - 8.4 miles a day

Travel Condition - 6 Men hauling ASS and Sledge on Ice

DEATH COUNT: 1 (Total: 6)

23 Officers and 100 Men remaining

Episode 3 - The Ladder

This one is fun because, well... they're not moving! I could point out where Silna ends up but it looks like she remain close enough to the ships that it doesn't matter all that much. So, let's just make note of the date and events:

Location 3 - Ships in June 1847 (70.15, -98.30)

For the duration of the episode:

Nighttime - None

Daylight - 24h min

Twilight - None

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Date: between June 2nd and June 10th 1847

- Silna makes her igloo a few miles away from the Ships

Date: June 11th 1847

- Franklin Dies

- Crozier drafts his resignation letter

Date: June 12th 1847

- Franklin's leg is buried :')

- Lieutenant Fairholme is sent to KWI.

DEATH COUNT: 2 (Total: 8)

22 Officers and 99 Men remaining

Episode 4 - Punished, As a Boy

Another fun bottle Episode!

Location 3 - Ships in same approx position as June 1847 (70.15, -98.30)

Date: November 23rd 1847

Nighttime - 12h 35 min

Daylight - None

Twilight - 11h 25min

Sunset: 11:47 am - Sunrise: 10:51 am

- William Strong's birthday :)

- We know because it's the last sunrise of the year!

- Evans and Strong die :(

They searched for a long time if it was just before 4 pm when they got the alarm and then they came back in time for last sunrise at 11 am...

Date: November 24th 1847 to November 25th 1847

Nighttime - 12h 35 min

Daylight - None

Twilight - 11h 25min

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

- Hickey has a communion with Tuunbaq (supposedly next day or so)

- Then Hickey gets evily booped.

DEATH COUNT: 2 + Hickey's postern (Total: 10)

22 Officers and 97 Men remaining

Episode 5 - First Shot the Winner, Lads

More fun in a bottle. These boys are not going far...

Honestly, for this one, the trouble was figuring out how much time had passed. For one, we know it's not yet Christmas because Christmas is, in fact, mentioned in Episode 6 (And Lady Jane's Christmas Pudding, hear hear) as part of the meeting between the officer and there was not yet a cooperation between the Terror Lts and Fitzjames for counting the supplies.

ALSO! That scene where Mr. Wentzell got killed dead over his nail... well, it gave me the feeling that either the review of the crew is not daily or that they've been on Erebus for a short time because 1) Fitzjames doesn't know their names and 2) He has to repeat the instructions about cleanliness... Perhaps they sent the Terrors in waves and not all 50 of them at once.

Other details to be mentionned:

Hickey is not recovered yet and Goodsir suspects he might reopen his wounds from working.

Goodsir has had time to be quite good at speaking inuktitut. Now, he could have had a continuous learning experience from Dr. McDonald since June 47 and before but considering that Dr. McDonald is stationed in Terror and Goodsir in Erebus, I suspect they did not have much time to have a class together...

Finally. Crozier suggests that he would be 2, perhaps, perhaps more... sick from sobering up. He got up just in time for First sunrise (Jan 17th).

So! We can infer that the episode might have spanned over 1 or 2 days (what's with the movement between the ships and the whole Rat Wedding).

My best guess is that the dates for this whole episode would be:

Date: December 14th 1847 to December 18th 1847

Nighttime - 13h 32 min

Daylight - None

Twilight - 11h 28min

Sunset: N/A - Sunrise: N/A

Why December 14th? Because it would be Edward Little's Birthday and I feel like it is appropriate for his character to have his boss send him back to the killing cold for more booze :') (December 16th to December 20th seems more likely but...)

This would give Crozier a full month to recover from sobering up and 22 days for Goodsir to learn inuktitut (impressive!), for Hickey backside to feel better and for Fitzjames to NOT learn the name of his new Terrors.

DEATH COUNT: 3 + Blanky's leg (Total: 13)

22 Officers and 94 Men remaining

That's it for now. I'll do the last 5 episodes soonish...

Conclusion to the first sets of episode: Sunsets and Sunrises were whacky in June 1847 but, so far, distance and travel times make good sense. If the accuracy holds up until episode 10, we might be able to have a pretty good idea of what, when and where everything happened in episodes 6 through 10.

[marxism-transgenderism]

Wendy had spent her childhood frightened and being hit by boys. Her dad began to teach her how to fight when she came home the first day of grade one with a bloody nose. He thought she ought to fight back. Wendy was big, but there were always more of the others. She never got hurt that bad, in the end, but she was afraid of these boys, always. Not that she and her dad lived in the roughest of neighbourhoods but—there were better.

It’d all stopped around high school when they’d moved south of the river (a third floor apartment in a well-kept house off Lilac and Corydon; Wendy’d loved that house), but the memory of that fear bubbling up in her bones was permanent.

She knew trans girls who described fears of suddenly being seen as a faggot, but Wendy’d heard the word since she was old enough to hit a baseball. It wasn’t that she was particularly feminine, but she was never exactly closeted either. She wanted dolls, sure, but she didn’t pine after them. She wanted to wear pink—but she liked black and grey too. Hand flips, voice lilts, a love of beautiful, pretty things—she was no more inherently femmy than any average scrappy girl with a weirdo poor single parent, but these clear traits still came out regularly, and no one failed to notice. Ever. Even at the new high school, where kids handled her brand of odd a little better, even when the response wasn’t abuse, everyone always noticed.

When she transitioned at twenty-two, that old bodily fear from childhood reawakened. She was living in a shitty room by the U of W and working at the music store up Portage. She was a year on lady pills when she moved in and was passing as cis for the first time. Guys would whistle and slap her ass with their jackets. Before this, she’d always been brave enough to tell boys to fuck off and throw fists when she had to, but passing as cis, she was suddenly demure and weak—how could she say anything back at them without them realizing the girl they were teasing was a man? Her dad had said, Aw, that’s just what guys do. Play along, and they won’t bother you. And, hey, look at you—you’re attractive! But the belligerent well of bluster that, for better or worse, Wendy’d always drawn on for strength was—it wasn’t the same anymore. She didn’t know how to talk about it.

And once, a tall man followed Wendy into her building and said, “You a transsexual? A guy told me you’re a transsexual! You a man or a woman?”

“What guy?” she’d said, but he repeated, “Are you a fuckin’ man?” He followed her inside, made a grab for her, demanded she let him suck her dick, and spit in her face before he left. He was definitely high on something (bath salts, maybe?). He yelled, “I will never die, bitch!” And she learned right then: You always had to be on your guard. It didn’t matter how often you passed, it could always be taken away. Always. She’d never be little, she’d never be fish. It could always be taken away.

The next day, one of the ass-slapping dudes screamed, “Hey! Turns out you’re a fuckin’ man, hey?” That group of guys on her block got meaner then. They never hurt her, per se. They’d mock-scream, “It’s a maaaaaaan! You think you fuckin’ fooled us?” They threw rocks at her, stuff like that. Someone threw a sandwich at her once from the top floor of the building next to hers. One night she was chased to her building and got in just in time. In retrospect, it wasn’t too different from escaping from a few torturing kids in grade school who were agnostic about hurting her physically but got deeper pleasure from messing with her brain. If you could freeze-frame the first second she came around the block, some of those boys would’ve looked glad to see her.

Now, bussing back from work, Wendy did not feel mad. She only felt tired and jumpy. And as she got off the bus and walked home, she called on some internal, gentle well of knowledge that shortly she wouldn’t be scared again, that her fear would congeal into scar tissue.

She tramped up the stairs to her house and changed into a nightgown. She made a vodka-diet-soda and drank in the rocking chair beside her bed, the nerves settling, like leaves floating down through her insides.

***

Wendy felt more normal by the weekend. Look, if she saw that dude again, she’d just sock him. Done. Sealed. He was a loser. Whoever that guy was, he was an evil fucking do-nothing loser who was probably some unloved poor drunk and a fucking dipshit. Whatever. Fuck him. He was a snivelling piece of cowardly shit, and if she saw him again she’d sock him, end of story. Maybe he was stronger than she thought, but she was still fucking bigger. Done. What more was there to think about. It’s not like anything really horrible went down in the end!

– Casey Plett, Little Fish: A Novel

[aquariclione]

[ID: 2 horizontal flags with 6 stripes. colors from top to bottom for the left flag are gulf blue, governor bay blue, portage blue, onahau blue, viking blue, jelly bean blue. the colors from top to bottom for the right flag are midnight blue, jelly bean blue, shakespeare blue, french pass, havelock blue, persian blue. end ID]

aquaric lesboy and veldigirl flags

[gradienty]

Portage French Pass (#ab8af8 to #b2ddfe)

[rabbitcruiser]

Whitehorse, YT (No. 2)

Archeological research south of the downtown area, at a location known as Canyon City, has revealed evidence of use by First Nations for several thousand years. The surrounding area had seasonal fish camps and Frederick Schwatka, in 1883, observed the presence of a portage trail used to bypass Miles Canyon. Before the Gold Rush, several different tribes passed through the area seasonally and their territories overlapped.

The discovery of gold in the Klondike in August 1896, by Skookum Jim, Tagish Charlie, and George Washington Carmack, set off a major change in the historical patterns of the region. Early prospectors used the Chilkoot Pass, but by July 1897, crowds of neophyte stampeders had arrived via steamship and were camping at "White Horse". By June 1898, there was a bottleneck of stampeders at Canyon City, and many boats had been lost to the rapids as well as five people. Samuel Steele of the North-West Mounted Police remarked: "why more casualties have not occurred is a mystery to me."

Source: Wikipedia

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Brand New One Shot - First Preview

It’s time for a new one shot! I promise I will finish “Dress Up” in the very near future but I wanted to get a jumpstart on this! No active warnings for this preview, but there is a very very subtle hint to something naughty if you squint lol

You remember first meeting the King of Hell on the day you checked yourself into the Hazbin Hotel. And you remember thinking that Lucifer looked nothing like you had pictured. Of course he was beautiful, that wasn’t shocking, but he was so…unimposing. Not only that, he was kind, albeit a bit dorky as well. Not that it was off putting to you, it was endearing if anything!

Although, you hadn’t spoken to him all that much since the time you’d moved in. Lucifer seemed so nonchalant and relaxed with everyone else in the hotel, save for Alastor, who you noticed always managed to get under the fallen angel’s skin one way or another. Even you knew the radio demon was playing with fire; probably wasn’t the smartest idea to piss off the most powerful being in Hell. Regardless, how he acted around you was a little odd to say the least. It seemed like Lucifer was always trying to avoid you for some unknown reason. Did he not like you?

When you had first spoken to him all those month ago, you could tell he was tense. He rambled, a lot. And he somehow managed to fumble every other word that left his mouth. He quickly left after your initial meet, and ever since then it was nearly impossible to get in more than five words at a time. He had an impossibly perfect disappearing act, what with his portaging abilities. One time you greeted him from across the lobby and his only response was “O-Oh! H-Hey you! Uhh, I just, umm…welp, gotta run!” and took off before you could even say goodbye. Truly bizarre.

You eventually went to Charlie, telling her that her dad was seemingly very distant towards you. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” Charlie explained. “He’s a pretty busy guy, so he’s usually popping in and out of here pretty frequently. And he’s told me on multiple occasions that he’s glad you joined the hotel! He can come off as a bit scatterbrained, but rest assured he’s more than happy to have you here! And so am I!”

You smiled and thanked her. From the few months that you’ve known her, Charlie was never one to lie, so you decided to take her words at face value. For now, at least. For some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with Lucifer. You needed to find out.

A few nights had passed and you found yourself wandering through the lobby. It was late, way later than you should be awake. Even Husk was asleep, the bar sat devoid of any life. It was difficult to sleep most night, you were still grappling with the fact that you were, in fact, in Hell. You thought you were a decent person in life. Never religious but you tried your best to while you were alive. But that didn’t seem to matter. Perhaps you should have attended church with your family more often, or donated to more charities, or not cut that one person off at that traffic light. Laying awake in your bed wasn’t helping these thoughts, but getting up and walking around usually helped just a tad.

You glanced over to the fire place, noticing the flames dancing against the walls. That was strange, considering no one ever used the fire place, or at least not that you’ve seen. But then you noticed one of the large chairs in front of it wasn’t empty. A white sleeve laid across the arm rest. You walked over out of pure curiosity, just to see who was awake at this ungodly hour like you. You craned your neck to see Lucifer sitting there frozen, his head down and eyes closed with his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked troubled. Before you could speak up, you heard him mumble under his breath.

“What the hell am I going to do…”

Worried, you outstretched your hand, but stopped short of touching his arm. “Sir?”

Lucifer’s eyes shot open instantly, turning his head to see you towering over him. He leapt from his chair completely startled and began stumbling backwards towards the fire pit.

“Watch out!” you warned, gripping his hand and pulling him towards you. Lucifer held his breath, trying to process what just happened. His head ended up flush against your chest, your face now feeling as hot as the flames in the pit. You let go of his hand and stepped away from him as fast as you could. Lucifer remained motionless. “I-I’m so sorry, your majesty! I didn’t mean for you to…I’m sorry!”

You finally heard Lucifer exhale. He stood up straight and fixed his wrinkled jacket, making every effort to not look you in the eyes.

“It’s alright, m-my dear,” he spoke softly, “no harm done. A-And please, call me Lucifer.”

“Okay. Lucifer,” you started, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you over here and I heard what you said and…is everything alright?”

Lucifer was tense again. You noticed him clench his fists. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “you just sounded worried about something.”

The king let out a sigh, letting his hands relax. “Thank you for your concern, I-I appreciate it. It’s nothing…nothing that you need to trouble yourself with. It’ll be fine.” Lucifer waved his hand, a portal now swirling open behind him, leading to his bedroom. “I think we should both get some sleep now. And t-thank you for catching me. Although, fire can’t harm me…b-but I appreciate the rescue nonetheless!” He was about to step through the portal when you caught his hand once more.

“Wait,” you said quietly. Lucifer looked down at the ground, still refusing to meet your gaze. You frowned. “Sir-I mean Lucifer…I wanted to ask you something. I need to know.” You felt his hand squeeze yours; he was tense again. “I-I’ve been feeling like I’m not welcome here by you.” Lucifer finally lifted his head, his eyes almost piercing your soul. He looked distraught at your words. You never noticed how beautiful his eyes truly were, the soft yellow complimented his pure white skin nicely. You blushed slightly, but shook your head and tried to remember what you were saying. “I-I just mean, you seem to avoid me every time I’m near. If I’ve done something to upset you, I’m very sorry. And if you’d rather I’d not stay here, then…”

“NO!” he shouted, now gripping your hand with both of his. “I-I mean, no. You haven’t done anything wrong! Please…Please don’t leave. I should be the one apologizing if that’s truly how you’ve been feeling. I never want you to feel unwelcome here, especially not from me. It…It’s just that…I…” Before he could finish his explanation, his eyes dropped for just a split second before returning to yours. His gaze had somehow shifted into a more panicked expression. He let go of your hands immediately and stepped through his portal in a hurry. “I-I have to go, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t get another word out before his portal disappeared from view.

You stood alone in the parlor, alone and confused. The fire had died out, and you felt a shiver down your spine at the realization of how cold it had gotten without it. But you couldn’t let the conversation end there. You needed to know what was going on with him. You wouldn’t sleep until you did. Luckily, Lucifer’s room at the hotel was very easy to find.

[wavvie]

🔺🥯😞 for nelia and ilanius, obviously, and one other of your choosing !!!

🔺does your oc know how to use any weapons?

Nelia - Nelia depends solely on her magic in lue of a weapon. Her knowledge of weapons is really just "sharp end goes in enemy, don't get hit with enemies sharp end," though I can't blame her. Her unique ability lets her tap into the source of all magic, meaning very strong spells, without paying the price of using such spells. Where others must be granted that access, Nelia gets a free pass to take as she pleases. However, she still has limitations and rules she must follow. She can't just rain fire on a city just because she feels like it.

Ilanius - Ilanius is well versed in weapons. His stepfather raised him pretty much as his son, giving him an extensive education. Ilanius is often duel-wielding short swords but knows how to use various swords, cross-bows, and a bow and arrow. Ilanius also was born with magic, though to no avail has he been able to control it. Many have tried to teach him the art of mastering chaos. So, in theory, he could attempt to use that as a weapon, though his opponent would likely best him while he was casting.

Otho - Otho, much like Nelia, knows what end to stick them with, and that is all. Though he loves to tell people he studied to become a bard at the College of Winter's Edge. Winter's Edge is not a Bard College; it's known for being a school that mainly teaches necromancy, illusion, and transmutation. Though most laugh off his claim, there's more truth in it than many would think.

🥯 what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast?

Nelia - If Nelia is near civilization she'll eat whatever the locals recommend. If she's traveling with someone, they usually will catch and cook something and share it with her under some sort of agreement. If she's traveling alone, she usually fends off hunger with anything she can forage. Hunting with magic makes anything caught pretty much unedible, and she lacks the patience for traps.

Ilanius - Ilanius will eat whatever he can catch if he's in between cities. If he's near civilization, he usually eats poached eggs on some sort of bread and if he can afford it he'll have bacon too.

Narsi - As a Lady in a wealthy family Narsi typically eats honied portage with fresh berries, a small plate of bread with different cheeses, and smoked ham/fish depending on the season.

😞 does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone?

Nelia - Whether intentionally or not, Nelia tends to scare people away. She claims she likes it that way, but girlie lies through her teeth. In minor interactions such with merchants, inn keeps, and barmaids many walk away from the interaction pleasantly surprised she wasn't all as bad as she seemed. Mama didn't raise her to forget her manners.

Ilanius - People flock to Ilanius like a moth to light; he easily earns people's trust. That being said, he'll compliment you to your face only to talk shit about you behind your back, though usually it's well deserved... usually. Ilanius is very charming and easily liked, and that's what makes him so dangerous. I'm not saying he's a bad person, but maybe watch that valuable family heirloom he's nonchalantly eyeing.

Yaenfiera - Once upon a time, Yaen inspired love and respect everywhere she went. Now? One mention of her name and people spit. If she dared show her face? Well, no violence occurs -she was anointed by the divines to speak on their behalf; you can't just go punching holy figures- but horrendous words are thrown her way. I guess that's what happens when you start a war (albeit she didn't draw first blood, but Ivaenia had every legal right to declare war and break the 500-year war treaty, among other treaties), only to bounce when your people need you.

ask me more?

[collectingtruths]

Part 11: She’s A Little Runaway

TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse/Assault - Both physical and sexual

August 25, 1994 - Portage County, Ohio

“I could still turn back before I pass the last house and really have to commit to this.”

― Claire Wong

[She was zoned out, staring at the dried tomato seed that was stuck to the top of the dining room table. “You hear me talking to you, stupid?” Her stepfather’s voice registered, but it sounded like her head was under water. The blow came from behind, the back impact connected with the back of her head sending her forehead crashing against the table. Instinct had her bringing her hands up to protect the back of her head from anymore slaps, but it didn’t dull the throbbing in the front of her face. His hand gripped the top of her head and yanked her head back, her hands planted over his to keep him from pulling out any of her curly blonde hair. She knew better than to scream. He brought his face down close to hers, sweat dotted along his brow, his bushy mustache hiding his upper lip but she could see the spit glazing his bottom one. “You’re a dumb bitch, just like your mother. Can’t fucking hear when someone’s talking to you.” He took advantage of her hands being up behind her head and brought his free hand up to slap her face, the sting had her eyes watering instantly, but his hand came right back to her face, thumb digging into her cheek while his other four fingers pressed into the other side. She could feel the delicate tissue inside of her mouth pressing against her teeth. She closed her eyes against the pain which caused him to get even more angry and seconds later she heard it before she felt it. The wad of spit landed on her closed eyes. “Look at me. Open your goddamn eyes.” She struggled and partially gagged, but opened her eyes. “Now you look like your mother.” He grinned and she felt her stomach drop. He started to jerk her head down like he was going to pull her from the chair when the sound of the screen door slamming against the wooden railing of their trailer’s porch alerted him to her mother coming home. “Go clean your fucking face.” She fell to the floor aside of the chair and scrambled away before he could change his mind. 

She didn’t just wash her face, she took an entire shower. She scrubbed her skin until it burned and stood under the hottest water she could stand. She didn’t want to stay there too long. She didn’t want to be without clothing around Denny any longer than she had to be. Her mom was a waitress and had met Denny at the restaurant where she worked. They were married six months later when he moved in and that was when the beatings first started, only it wasn’t toward her. It was Kevin who got all of Denny’s anger and frustration. Her big brother Kevin was two years older than her and took every beating that was given. She often cleaned the blood off him and helped patch him up after rough fights, but he never complained. He said it was because he was a boy and Denny wanted to be the man of the house and prove that he wasn’t shit. She had watched her brother get wailed on from the time she was twelve, but when Kevin turned eighteen, he left. He promised that as soon as she turned eighteen, he’d come back and get her, but he said if anything happened before, she was supposed to tell him. She didn’t want to tell him that as soon as he left, the abuse was directed at her. Their mother knew, she guessed she just rather it be her kids instead of her, but she wasn’t even sure her mother realized anymore, not when she was usually high more often than she wasn’t. But every few days, she would sneak and call Kevin from the pay phone when Denny was asleep and her mom was either at work or high and passed out.

When Denny had her by the hair, she knew she was only saved from the sexual abuse by her mother coming home. That was something he wouldn’t openly do, but she also didn’t believe that her mother didn’t know. But if her mom had made good tips tonight, she undoubtedly would get high which would have Denny creeping into her room. And she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She had a backpack shoved in the bottom of her closet with shorts, socks, underwear, tshirts and a sweatshirt. Everything was secondhand, but she didn’t care. A lot of her stuff came from the neighbor who had a younger daughter and it just so happened that most of her stuff fit. After the abuse started, food really wasn’t a high priority, she just couldn’t find her appetite and it made her much smaller than she really should’ve been. Small or not, she wasn’t staying here another night. But she had to wait to sneak out. 

She must’ve fallen asleep, but the sounds of her mother and Denny having sex woke her up. Her mother always made a big fuss over him, stroking his ego. It was impossible to ignore the shouts and grunts and groans, but she was going to use this. She jumped up out of bed, grabbed the bag from the closet, threw her shoes on and made sure she had enough change for the payphone. The plan was to get up to the gas station, call Kevin and tell him she was taking a bus to see him. When he moved out, he found work with a mining company in West Virginia. It wouldn’t be a long ride and she knew she could handle it. She left the sounds of disgusting sex behind her, hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder and started out into the muggy August night. She occasionally stopped to slap a mosquito or two that landed on her legs, but she wasn’t going to stop for anything else. 

The payphone came into view and she quickly pulled her change from her pocket. She dialed her brother's number with shaky hands. Her brother was safety. He would come and get her and everything would be fine. She’d beg him not to tell anyone she was there and she was sure after she told him everything that happened, he’d listen. She heard his answering machine pick up. He was probably at work. She checked her watch and noted the time before she left a message. It was vague just in case and she told him she’d call him back after he was home. She left the number of the payphone and then hung up. She sighed and looked down at her feet. She didn’t want to cry but her traitorous tears dribbled down her cheeks and she lifted her hand to quickly swat them away. Her brow furrowed when she heard what sounded like gravel being crunched beneath footsteps, but just when she went to turn, she saw stars. Bright white speckles danced in front of her vision and she felt like she was floating. There was a sensation of being moved, but that couldn’t be right. She felt like she was being pulled? No…dragged. She couldn’t open her eyes for long. There were too many spots in her vision. There was a face above her, dark hair, a piece that fell onto his forehead since he was looking down at her. Was he smiling? Her eyes closed again and she felt herself being lifted. She tried to say something but all that was coming out were soft, pain laden moans.  

She went back under again, but her body jostled with the slight acceleration and deceleration. She was in a car, but not in the trunk or even the backseat. She was strapped into the front seat with his large hand gripping her thigh. She could feel his thumb putting pressure against her skin as he swiped it back and forth. She felt exceptionally weak and her head rolled to the side as she tried to make out the direction they were going but everything seemed to be spinning.] You’re going to feel so good in a minute, baby. [His voice seemed normal, almost appealing. It made chills erupt all over her skin.] Seems like you’re already feeling good. [His chuckle was gruff and quiet.] It’s the drugs. [His hand shifted and she felt pressure against the front of her, between her thighs and she pushed at his hand as much as she could, but her arms felt so heavy. She leaned forward, as much as the seat belt would allow and her head hung. She could feel drool dripping from her lip, but no words and then silence. 

 There was some kind of commotion that started to stir her awake, but not enough to be coherent. Blue and red lights flashed at the side of her vision. Her head started to lean toward the window, she could feel the cool glass against her skin. The voices around her seemed to swirl and she only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. 

“Sorry, Officer. It’s my little sister.” It sounded like she was underwater. 

“She was drinking…I know, I know…she’s underage, but I’m taking her home.” 

“We all make mistakes, just make sure she gets plenty of water in her and hopefully she learns her lesson.” The man with a much deeper voice replied. She tried to make several sounds, she was trying to lift her arms, tears started to run down her face as the words refused to come out fully. She managed to eek out a whimpering help, but then she felt a hand on the side of her head.

“I’m trying to help, sis. It’s ok. Just breathe.” He said.

“Man, she really did a number on herself. Alright, watch your speed and get her home.” The cop said. 

“That was close, baby” His hand left the side of her and slapped down against her thigh. She could feel his fingernails as they dug into her skin, but she was starting to go out again. Her head fell forward and drool dripped down onto her thigh. 

So much time had passed or maybe it hadn’t. She didn’t know, she couldn’t tell what amount of time spanned between each moment of unconsciousness. She felt pressure everywhere. She felt it against the back of her head, her chest and even down along her lower half. But she felt like she was maybe on a boat. Her entire body felt like it was rocking and she thought that maybe she was going to be sick. She moaned as the nausea ripped through her and her eyes started to flutter open, but then the voice above her sent a wave of panic through her. “I told you I would make you feel good. You like it just like I knew you would.” She realized quickly that the motion wasn’t from the boat, but from what he was doing /to/ her. She had found some strength somewhere deep down and started to fight. Her hands shoved and her legs started to kick. She needed to get away, she needed to get him off of her. She clawed and screamed and hit every part of him she could reach, but his laugh sent chills through her. “I love it when they fight.” She cried out hoping that anyone could hear her, but the motions sped up until finally he stilled. Maybe this was all he wanted, maybe she could survive and tell them who he was, what he looked…the burn that suddenly rippled from her stomach caused an abrupt halt to her thoughts and dashed any hope that might’ve built. If she thought the first burn was too much, the second doubled it. She looked down, their bodies were still joined, but pools of blood were accumulating on her stomach. She started to shake uncontrollably. She lost count at how many times his arm swung down and pierced through her flesh, but she knew she wasn’t ever going to see Kevin again.]

~Present Day~ Portage County, Ohio

[She sat in her car staring at the trailer now owned by Kevin Mack, the victim’s older brother. This case was a lot more intense than she realized it was going to be, but she could handle it. Exiting her car, she grabbed what she needed and knocked on the door to wait to be let in. Kevin was expecting her. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they took a seat at the dining room table and she listened to Kevin go into a guilt heavy description of what his sister had been like, what their childhood had been like and it broke her goddamn heart listening to a man who was abused as a child fault himself for his sister’s safety and then death. “When I found her journal, I knew what had happened. I just knew Denny had something to do with her disappearance. You read it. I know you read it. It makes me sick to my fucking stomach that I failed her like that.” He shook his head. His trailer was evidence that he hadn’t truly moved on. He had no wife, no girlfriend, no kids. His space was dark and not entirely unkempt, but showed signs of wear and tear that he didn’t bother to fix. She placed her hand on his arm.] It isn’t your fault. You were just a kid yourself. And what happened to her after isn’t your fault either. The person who did it is the one to blame. [He shook his head. He’d likely been told that so many times. “I turned in the journal to the detectives thinking it would help convict Denny, but it didn’t. Not on that anyway. When they found…her…there were two samples. One came from him. The other from an unknown male. No one in the system. They were trying to point the finger at me, my own sister!” She knew that had to hurt, but that it wouldn’t have made it far considering there was no commonality in the samples to show a familial connection. He sighed and took a few minutes to collect himself. “He was arrested for the sexual assault, but not the murder. But the cops stopped looking after that. But I didn’t. There were other girls, you know. Look…” He jumped up and grabbed a box of files and rushed back as he spread them out in front of her. “I showed it to the cops, they wouldn’t even bother. They said I was reading into things. That they didn’t have any reason to believe that anything was connected. But they didn’t even look at it!” She reached for the folders and started to slide them in the box.] Kevin…I promise you I’ll look at them. If there is any kind of connection, I will look at it. You have my word. [She could see tears forming in his eyes and the exhale that followed was a bit like relief. She watched him blink a few times before he nodded. “Thank you. I just ask that you look. I know it’s been a long time, but if we can catch this motherfucker…that’s…she deserves justice. And so do those other women. It’s why I came back after she died. I couldn’t leave. It didn’t feel right. If she couldn’t ever leave this fucking place, then I wasn’t going to either.” She nodded.] They do. They all do. I’ll go through all of this and get back in touch with you in a few days. 

[With the files in her car, she started back toward the hotel. If what he was saying was true, then this was a lot bigger than two girls missing around the same time. It was rare for a killer to wait so long between kills after it being such a short time between the first two, but it wasn’t impossible. She pulled up at her hotel, lugged out the box and her bag and closed Apollo…is it too much to ask for your dad to just…send a bolt of lightning to where I can find this son of a bitch? [She heard someone clear their throat beside her and she looked over to see a woman staring at her and she smiled softly.] Power of prayer. [She hit the lock on her fob and hurried toward the hotel. She’d just order dinner and have it delivered while she showered and she’d eat while she went over the files. It was going to be a long night.] 

#TDATD #TheKillerCases 

[jthume]

Day 3 & 4 NE IA IL IN OH

Greetings from Youngstown-ish, Ohio. If you were paying attention, you probably noticed I didn’t post a travelogue yesterday for Day 3. The reasons are many: I felt like crap; it was the worst driving day of the trip; I crashed when I hit the hotel. Wah on me.

Plus let’s be honest: there’s not a lot of differences between the five states I crossed so far. Those living here and those from here may be offended, but with these few pictures I’m posting, could you tell the difference between them (remove the signage, of course)?

(Speaking of signage, this one made me laugh. We veterans were used to seeing this sign all the time when we wore a uniform.)

Okay, back to the trip. Yesterday was Friday, right? It started in Bellevue, Nebraska and ended in Portage, Indiana, which is 500-ish miles apart. That was a mistake on my part in trying to catch up, but I’m not in my twenties, thirties, or forties anymore, and my body was hating me. That aside, there was vast farms and fields and forests of green in every direction  There’s the humidity, too, but it’s a small price to pay to feed the world from our breadbasket, as they say.

Ninety percent of the drive was just looking at the greenery, then came the last ten percent that reminded me I was in America: the freeways south of Chicago. Everyone, slow down! It’s a construction zone! No? Then hold on, close your eyes, and pray! Except for the drivers. We should keep our eyes open, though you wouldn’t know it.

Yesterday reminded me I am a small town boy and proud of it. Go Carson Senators!

Today was tons better with a short five-hour drive from Portage to the outskirts of Youngstown, Ohio where I’ll spend the night. Tomorrow is a slightly longer drive to Delaware where I’ll see my sister.

Some random observations:

The Mississippi River is big and wide. You read it here first.

Ohio and their tolls. Yikes. Got jabbed for $20+ just today in tolls. What a racket. More tolls tomorrow.

Road construction. Every state has their own approach, though some things are universal like the orange cones. Wyoming posts tiny signs that say “bad roads ahead,” but they do work on the busy portions in the east. Nebraska tears up entire stretches of the freeway and diverts traffic to the other lanes. Always fun to have traffic coming at you at >60mph. The rest of the states close lanes like sane people.

By the way, Nebraska is still in love with concrete roads. The other states use a mixture, but Nebraska love concrete decades ago and it still loves it. I want that subsidy.

Rest stops. Ohio does it right, but it better when you consider how much the tolls are. Nebraska and Iowa do a great job, too, but a word to the Cornhusker State: air fresheners. Oh, God. Invest in air fresheners. (Sorry, Illinois, I crossed at the skinny section and I was too grouchy to notice your stops if you had them.)

Finally, a shout out to Siri who’s been my on-site navigator and gotten me around traffic jams and through this strange land. It’s get a workout tomorrow as I pass through Pennsylvania and Maryland. It may divert me to New Jersey, for all I know, before stopping in Delaware. And a big wave 👋👋👋 to CC for being my remote navigator. I miss you much!

I’ll be glad to see my sister but I’ll be real glad to head home. Ciao for now!

[airmanisr]

G-AWLW "P3308", CCF Hurricane XII, Strathallan, May 1975 by Gordon Riley Via Flickr: Delivered to The Royal Canadian Air Force as 5377, serving from June 16, 1942 until July 13, 1946. Owned by Jim Roy, Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, from 1946 to 1964, it was derelict on a farm when acquired by Robert E. Diemert, Carman, Manitoba. Registered as CF-SMI in 1966, it was rebuilt and flown as RCAF 5585. Airfreighted to London in RCAF C-130, June 1, 1967, it flew in movie, "The Battle of Britain", 1968. Passed to N.A.W. "Tony" Samuelson/Samuelson Film Services Ltd, Elstree, July 10, 1968, and registered as G-AWLW, ownership was transferred to Sir W.J.D. Roberts, Shoreham, December 1969. In March 1972 the aircraft joined the Sir William Roberts/Strathallan Collection in Auchterader, Scotland, March, and flew as P3308/UP-A. Passed to the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum, Hamilton, Ontario, in May 1984, it was delivered to Hamilton by RCAF C-130. Registered as C-GCWH, it was reflown on 4 June 4 1984. Painted as P3069/YO-A, the aircraft was destroyed in a hangar fire on 15 February 1993. If you look closely you will see that the ailerons are missing. When Bob Diemert rebuilt it he used the wrong airfoil section with the result that it’s handling was diabolical. Dick Richardson borrowed the ailerons from Shuttleworth’s Z7015 and the handling was transformed. He then used them as patterns for two new ailerons.