#top right is my tarnished as the lord of the night

[batwithin]

the gang is all here

[nocasdatsgay]

The Price You Pay For Power Ch. 5

Pairing: Neris | Chapter Rating: T | Word Count: 4493

Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Eris’s new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband.

CW: None

Chapter Summary: Wedding Day!

Read it here on AO3| Previous Chapter| Masterpost

A/N: if the vows are icky that’s on purpose. Also I had to replace Áine because it copied over wrong and I wanted to die by the time this is posted. I don’t think the photo below is going to appear smaller so. Oh well I am attempting dividers. I apologize in advance.

Nesta awoke early to the sounds of movement in her room. For a moment she panicked; unfamiliar scents and the sounds of more than one person made her heart race. Then she remembered. She sat up to find the two servants from yesterday in her room.  

“Lady Nesta,” one noticed her first and curtsied by the bed. “Your fitting is in an hour. The dress is being set up in the sitting room. The Lady of Autumn requested she be present.”

The girl did not look her in the eyes. She felt guilty for already forgetting their names. The quiet one scurried off to the bathing room. She could hear water being run. 

“Thank you,” Nesta whispered. 

As she gained her senses, she remembered their names: Opal and Lynn. As yesterday, she bathed- they insisted despite her protests. They also insisted she wash her hair. Nesta sarcastically asked how she was supposed to let that much hair dry before the ceremony only to be informed there was a way to dry it with magic. Begrudgingly, she did as requested. 

She was given a soft amber colored robe to cover herself with. They indeed used magic to dry her hair; Lynn used her hands, hovering them over her hair until they dried in perfect curls. They said it was Autumn fashion to wear it down. She didn’t argue with them. Opal was the one who wove in pearl pins, with a golden rose clipped on the right side of her hair. Nesta hated that she liked it despite preferring her hair up. Magic was used to keep it styled. 

She was finally allowed out of her room and she entered the sitting room to see it rearranged. In the corner was a privacy divider. A small riser was where the table originally stood. Her eyes widened as she took in the stand behind it. The wedding dress was beautiful. The color like ivory minerals from the mountains she’d only seen in pictures in books. The top was modest with long sheer sleeves, with a corset bust and A-line skirts that flowed out. Near the bottom there was orange and gold stitching in the shape of vines and leaves.

“Do you like it?” A soft voice startled her. 

She turned and saw The Lady stood behind her. Nesta had never been this close to her before. She was beautiful, auburn hair in soft waves cascading down over her shoulders. Her russet eyes were bright despite the shadows under them. Nesta wasn’t this close last night to see there was a hollowness in her cheeks. She wondered if her appearance was the future that awaited her if she stayed in this court too long. 

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta replied honestly. 

“I wish Lord Rhysand had allowed you to come try it on,” she looked past Nesta at the gown. “I’m sure your sisters would have loved to see you in it. After.” She paused. “My son deserved an engagement period. However, his father was of the opinion this might be another trick of the Night Court. We’ve already had a tarnished betrothal. Beron does not want to risk another.” 

Mor. She had forgotten about her past with Autumn and Eris. Now the push to wed her off to Eris and keep her made sense. Nesta went to ask what happened with that engagement, to hear the Lady’s version of events but a knock interrupted her. A stout female entered with a covered basket. 

“Lady Áine, good to see you,” the female curtsyed. “Lady Nesta.”

This female did not lower her gaze like Opal and Lynn. Her hair was red with a touch of grey though she didn’t look much older than Nesta herself. It was the fine lines around her small russet eyes that gave any indication of her age. Nesta also realized she called the Lady of Autumn by her name: Áine. 

“This is my seamstress,” Lady Áine said with a soft smile. “Meri will help you into the dress and see if any changes are needed.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Meri,” Nesta nodded. 

“Pleasure’s mine dear,” she smiled back. “Any female willing to marry that rake of a boy has my utmost respect.”

Nesta’s eyes widened at her candor but Áine laughed. A true laugh she didn’t think was possible given the circumstances. 

“Now Meri, you’ll scare my new daughter in law into changing her mind,” Áine joked with a soft giggle. 

“If she’s half the female I’ve heard about, then it’ll take more than my nonsense to scare her off.” 

“And what have you heard of me,” Nesta furrowed her brows. 

Meri looked her over, as if she was debating with herself. 

“I heard you’re quite the dancer.” Nesta blinked, not expecting that. “Let’s get you in that dress, shall we?” 

Meri ushered her behind the screen and helped her into the dress. It fit. Almost too well, in Nesta’s opinion. There was a mirror behind the divider for her to see it first. She looked the part of a princess her mother envisioned for her so many decades ago. When she walked around the screen the Lady was sitting on the couch, legs crossed with a book in hand. She looked up and gasped, a grin forming. 

“Oh Nesta,” Áine placed the book down and watched her as Meri helped her onto the riser. “Oh it’s perfect. You’re beautiful.” 

Nesta pushed down the well of emotions building in her chest. Áine was looking up at her proudly. Like a mother should when seeing her daughter in a wedding gown. But Áine was not her mother. This wasn’t a real wedding. But maybe she could pretend selfishly. Just this once. She gave her a polite smile in return while Meri went to work and circled around her once to look her over. 

“Hold up your arm.” 

She did as instructed. Meri started pinning fabric along her forearm to tighten the fit. She then did the same with the other. Áine filled the silence by making small conversation and commentating every now and then on something Meri missed. That left Nesta to stand in relative silence which she didn’t mind. A few minutes passed and Meri stood up.

“Not too bad; a few quick changes- nothing drastic. I’ll return with it in a few hours.” Meri smiled at her.

She helped Nesta off the riser. Behind the screen she eased the dress off of Nesta, mindful of the pins she placed. Once Nesta was back in her robe, Meri bid them both a good morning and promised to return when it was time. That left her alone with Áine again. The older female must have sensed her unease, as she patted the seat on the couch next to her. Nesta sat down beside her and Áine placed a hand over her own. 

“You’re brave, Nesta Archeron.” She whispered, eyes pleading with Nesta to read between her words. “The walls have ears, so I shall not say more.”

“Thank you.” What else was there to say? Nesta decided to change the subject. “I am not familiar with fae weddings. Would you mind going over the ceremony with me?” 

Áine nodded. “I think we should have some tea first.” 

Without much effort, she used magic to make a tray appear. A tea pot, two cups, a cream pitcher and sugar. There was also more fruit and what looked like small sandwiches. Áine served the tea. Nesta looked away when the sleeve of her dress rose up her arm. She was too afraid of what she might accidentally see. 

“Sugar?” She asked, bringing Nesta’s attention back to her. 

“No thank you,” she replied politely. 

Nesta was given a look that she could only describe as a stern mother’s knowing look. However she did not add sugar as requested. She handed Nesta the cup and saucer and poured her own. 

“My husband will have to escort you, since you have no family here to present you.” 

Nesta leaned into her tea cup to keep from spitting out the carpet. Gods she would have to endure Beron again. She continued. 

“There will be a priestess. She will recite the vows in the Autumn tongue and bind your hand to my son’s with a silk ribbon. You’ll make your own vows to each other. Then we will hold a reception.” 

“Will I need to prepare vows?” Her anxiety tumbled in the pit of her stomach. 

Áine shook her head. “There is a standard vow of the Vanserra family. The priestess will speak it and ask you to repeat it.”

That felt like a weight removed from her shoulders. Though her anxiety didn’t fizzle. She at least didn’t have to worry about fumbling to remember, she still needed to make sure she didn’t mess up. Áine seemed to sense the whirling in her mind. She sat down her cup and sauce and gave her a soft smile. 

“Tell me Nesta, do you like to read?”

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

A knock came. Nesta looked up from the Sellyn Drake book she’d been reading for the last few hours. It felt too early to be getting ready but she‘d been reading for some time. She placed the book Lady Áine had given her, opened and facedown to save her spot onto the table. She tightened her robe just in case and opened the door. Before her was one of the brothers. Asher. Up close, she could see he looked more like his mother than Beron. And while she had called him stalky, she realized it was simply that he was more broader in the shoulders than the Eris. He did not greet her with a smile. 

“I brought you a visitor.” 

He stepped to the side and Nesta inhaled sharply. 

“Elain?”

Her sister came up and embraced her tightly. Nesta was in too much of a shock to do much other than hug her in return. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Asher grumbled.

He left and Elain let her go, so Nesta stepped aside to let her in and shut the door. She stared at her sister as she looked around the room, eerily calm while she took in her surroundings. Nesta noted she wore a warm yellow dress- like the color of the leaves that littered the ground when she arrived. 

”What are you doing here?” Nesta finally found her voice. 

Elain turned to her, her expression neutral. “Rhys is with the High Lord. He will be joining us shortly.”

Nesta blinked. “Rhysand is here?”

“It would have looked poorly for your family to not be present. I believe that is the excuse he’s giving Beron. Really, we didn’t want you to do this alone.”

Nesta felt her heart harden, her features returning to the stony demeanor she so casually used her whole life. She saw the flash of fear in her sister’s eyes as she braced herself for the worst Nesta could offer. And yet Nesta could not force herself to be angry, she couldn’t even force herself to remain steady with a cool indifference. 

“Will it just be you and Rhys?” She asked instead and Elain nodded. “Cassian didn’t wish to attend?”

”He would have slaughtered everyone in attendance.” Elain whispered. “He wanted to come. Rhys talked him out of it. He asked him to stay with Feyre.” That did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. “Azriel has not returned yet. Feyre, well she’s with healers as we speak, not that she’s allowed to winnow.”

Right, the healers that Nesta was bargained for. She wondered how Eris snuck them out with the wedding. Maybe they would return in time to not even be missed. Elain sat down on the closest end of the couch. She looked up at her sister with her sad doe eyes. 

“Rhys has no idea the consequences of the decisions he is making.”

Nesta frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Elain didn’t answer her question. She stared at the empty dress holder. Instead, she asked another of her own. 

“Is your gown being tailored?” 

“It is.” 

Nesta went around and took her place back on the opposite end of the couch, curling up on it while ensuring the robe stayed in place. She thenpicked her book back up and opened it. It felt rude to ignore her sister but what else did she have to say? 

“Are these your permanent quarters?” Elain asked as if to spite her for trying to read. 

“I hope so. His are across the hall. I shutter to think about being forced to share a bed every night with him.” 

“He’s no worse than what you bedded in Valeris.” 

Nesta’s head jerked up and Elain bursted out with a laugh. Nesta kicked her which made Elain laugh harder. 

“I am not wrong,” she giggled. 

Surprisingly, Nesta laughed too. She couldn’t remember the last time her and Elain acted like true sisters. It was long before their mother passed. If Nesta was honest with herself, it was nice Elain wasn’t handling her with gloves. Or worse, for Nesta to be too defensive. 

“I suppose not,” she sighed, her laughter dying down.

They spent the next hour talking, Elain asking subtle questions about Nesta’s time at the house so far. She explained how dinner was interesting but didn’t go into detail beyond the brothers rude remarks. If the Lady was right and the walls had ears, she had to be careful. Even Eris had warned once already. 

“Your hair is beautiful. Do you do it yourself?” Elain’s gaze went to the rose clip. 

“Opal and Lynn did my hair. They’re a lot like Nuala and Cerridwen. They don’t really talk to me.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Opal talks the most. I think I only heard Lynn tell me her name.”

“They will open up to you, I’m sure.” Elain gave a polite smile. 

Another knock came. This time she didn’t have to wonder who it was. She put her book away, resigned to reading it later and answered the door. As expected Asher had once again came this time with Rhysand. 

“Rhys,” Nesta greeted him with no emotion, letting him into the room. 

“Nesta.” He nodded in return. 

They were silent, the three of them, once the door shut. So much it was almost deafening. Rhys sighed loudly and took a seat on the couch. Nesta wanted to roll her eyes. 

“Are you to walk me down the aisle?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms. “Or however the customs for weddings are in this realm?”

”Yes, Nesta.” He glanced up at her. He looked tired but not as tired as he did before she left. “I know that I haven’t been the kindest to you. But I am eternally grateful for what you’re doing.”

”I’m not doing it for you,” she hissed back. 

“I know. For that I am even more grateful.”

She bristled even if she didn’t understand why it bothered her so. She was certainly not sitting next to him. So she held her robe tight and grabbed the chair that had been pushed to the side and brought it forward. When she was seated, she looked over to him again. 

“Beron asked me to show him where Velaris was when I arrived. I told him I couldn’t read a map.”

Rhys and Elain both snorted a laugh. Nesta decided right then she may as well come clean and admit the other things she said. 

“I also told him I wasn’t allowed to leave the house as punishment, when he asked how the governing system worked for Velaris.” Their laughter stopped and she stared at the floor. “I- I said some things about Feyre I didn’t mean. I also said you were jumping at the chance to be rid of me.” 

“That’s why he was shocked to see us.” She could feel Rhys staring at her, probably glaring. His tone however was neutral when he said, “Thank you for protecting the city, Nesta.”

She looked up in shock. “You’re not angry with me?” 

“I’m too tired to be angry,” Rhy shrugged, picking at his suit. “Beron has already put forth his demands now that our courts are ‘better aligned’. I told him I was only here because my mate insisted someone be present. If he wanted to talk business, we would do it later.”  

Thankfully there was yet another knock. Nesta didn’t have to bother getting the door this time, even as she stood to answer it. Meri came in and abruptly halted as the door shut. 

“Oh,” Meri’s eyebrows rose on her forehead. She curtsyed deep in front of Rhys. “High Lord. I wasn’t expecting-“

“It’s alright,” Rhys waved a hand as Meri straightened herself back up. “I wanted to surprise my sister. No one knew we’re coming.” 

It didn’t seem to put her at ease. She glanced nervously at Nesta and Nesta nodded in return. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Made a few adjustments, but it should fit her just right.” Meri waved her hand and the dress appeared on the stand. 

Elain gasped, looking it over. “Oh Nesta, that’s beautiful.” 

“Wait until you see it on her,” Meri said proudly. 

Nesta wished Áine had returned with her, as she followed Meri behind the screen. She couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be in the same room as Rhys. Which made Nesta resent him just a little bit more. Meri helped her into the dress; the small changes made it so it fit her even better than before. She came around the screen while Meri held up the train and Elain gasped again. There were tears in her sister's eyes. Like this was the only wedding dress Nesta would ever be in. Even Rhys smiled. There was a scratch at her mental wall. She opened it and heard Feyre. 

Nesta, you’re beautiful. She could hear tears in her sister's voice. 

Thank you.

I love you Nesta. I love you so much. I need you to know that- 

Nesta shut the window in her mind. Any longer and hearing Feyre cry would leave her a sobbing mess as well. Besides, Nesta didn’t deserve that confession of love from Feyre. Not really. It would take more than marrying the enemy for Nesta to deserve an ounce of her love. So she held head high and pretended Rhys wasn’t frowning at her for shutting out Feyre.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Meri said and took one last walk around Nesta. Nesta forced a smile as she came back around. “The captain will escort you and your family to the temple, at the request of Lord Eris.”

“Captian?” Rhys asked, leaning his elbows onto his knees. As if it would make him less threatening. 

“Captain of the guard,” she replied curtly. “He’s outside the door.” If Rhys was offended by her response he didn’t show it. “Shall I let him in? The ceremony is soon.”

“Of course,” Rhys spoke for them.

It was a blessing she kept her eyes from rolling. Meri curtsyed before wishing Nesta the best of luck and left out the door. As promised a male entered. He had brown hair and deep brown eyes, though he was not as pale as the rest of those in Autumn. 

The male bowed. “I’m Captain Rowen Garlian, the general gave me the pleasure of escorting this beautiful female to the temple.” 

“General?” Nesta frowned, noting how her stomach flipped, immediately thinking of Cassian. 

“Lord Eris,” he replied. 

“Right, apologies,” she said. 

Eris was a general? The cauldron was surely making fun of her at this point. A scrap came against her mind walls. She wanted to ignore it but opened a window against her better judgment. 

You’re supposed to be happy, so maybe act like it. Rhys hissed into her mind. 

She slammed her walls shut. As if she had forgotten. If there were still gods they surely hated Nesta, for her to have to suffer these men- males, she corrected herself- like this. Elain stood, drawing her attention. She seemed worried but quickly schooled her features. 

“Shall we?” 

Politeness never sounded forced from her. 

Before they left Rhys threw some magic on her- to keep the dress clean or so he said. She opted to believe it when Elain nor the guard had any comments. It was a long and quiet walk. They saw no one in the halls as they passed, which Nesta found strange. They followed the captain out a different door than the main hall entrance. 

She was again struck by how beautiful the trees in autumn were. Just ahead across a wide path was the temple. It too, looked to be a large tree, the stones covered in moss and a grove in the back with the leaves casting a silhouette. There was a male at the door as they approached. It was Piran, she remembered. Unlike last night he was far more subdued, not looking any of them in the eyes. It made Nesta sick to her stomach. 

“High Lord,” he bowed. “If you will come wait in the foyer, I will escort Lady Elain to her seat.” 

Elain turned and came up to Nesta. She gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. She then followed Piran into the temple and behind them, her and Rhysand followed. The captain did not follow them in. It was a small closed off foyer, sconces all on the walls to illuminate where there were no windows. Piran held out his arm and together they slipped through the door. Nesta was standing too far to the left to see inside but heard the chatter. 

She wanted to vomit. 

“You can do this,” Rhys whispered. “I believe in you.” 

“I’m surprised,” Nesta whispered back. “Considering you think I fuck everything else up.” 

Rhys rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Piran came back out and wordlessly nodded to them. Rhys held out his arm and Nesta begrudgingly took it. They came to the door and the sanctuary was full, everyone silencing as she appeared in the doorway with Rhys. Only a soft piano played to fill the silence. Her stomach flipped again as all eyes went to her but she bit the inside of her cheek.

She held her head high and focused her gaze forward on the Priestess ahead. Her heart ached for Gwyn and Emerie, wishing they could be there for her. As she walked arm in arm with Rhysand, she dared to glance at Eris. She could admit he looked handsome. The outfit he adorned was different from his usual attire. A long, sleeveless burnt orange robe with what seemed to be red detailing. Under that was a long sleeved white shirt. The sleeves appeared puffy and were cuffed at the wrists. The sleeves also adorned the same threading details her dress had. In another life, this is the wedding she would have wanted. 

Maybe in another life, he would have been the groom she wanted too. 

She also admitted he was a good actor; in that moment he seemed stunned at her, like a real groom would. She watched his gaze run over her and when his soft amber eyes met hers, even at a distance he looked away. Like he wasn’t supposed to be staring at her. Like she had caught him even though his staring was technically warranted. She tried to not frown. When they reached the end, Eris gave Rhysand a nod and then held out his left hand to Nesta. 

For a split moment, she thought about not taking it. It felt too permanent. As if this was her choice to make and by doing so, would change everything. Elain’s voice rang in her mind from earlier about the consequences for the choices being made. But they were not hers to make. 

Without another thought she took his hand in her own. 

The time did not stop for her. The world did not flip in on itself. He helped her up onto the rise and she stood before him. The Priestess smiled at her, the stone on her forehead flashing from the lit sconces. Eris did not let her go as the Priestess started to speak in a language Nesta did not know. She tried to pull her hand away but Eris held a firm grip on it. 

The Priestess nodded and Eris lifted their hands up. She pulled a deep green ribbon from her pocket and began to wrap it around Nesta and Eris’s hands. She still was speaking what Nesta remembered Áine called the ancient Autumn language. She watched it as it was wound snug around their joined hands. She swore the ribbon glowed the more that was added. Finally a bow was tied and the Priestess let it go. 

She spoke normally. “I will ask you both to repeat the vow. This vow is not bound by magic but bound by duty and love you share with each other.” 

Nesta bit her tongue again. The priestess continued. 

“You, Eris Vanserra, promise to be a righteous and dutiful husband. You honor the Vanserra family and the Autumn Court through this marriage with Nesta Archeron. You ask the mother to bless this union between you, to guide you to be a pillar of support for herself and for the family you will create.”

Even Eris looked like he had been biting his tongue. He stared directly into Nesta’s eyes as he spoke, repeating what the priestess said. 

“You, Nesta Archeron, promise to be a righteous and dutiful wife. You honor your family, your former home in the Night Court, and your new home here in the Autumn Court through this marriage with Eris Vanserra. You ask the mother to bless this union, to guide you as you serve and support your new husband. You ask The Mother to bless your womb so you may honor her image through the children you will bear.”

Nesta tensed at the last part. Words felt heavy on her tongue though she did not show it as she repeated the words. She nearly stumbled on the ‘serve and support’ and her stomach churned again as she repeated the last bit. 

The ribbon glowed, glittering and in an instant lighting aflame. Nesta gasped; in the ribbon’s place were two solid rings. 

“It is my honor to be the vessel that pronounces you, by The Mother, husband and wife.” 

The Priestess smiled and the room erupted into applause. There was no romantic gesture on Eris’s part. He let go of her hand gently and offered his arm as he faced the aisle towards the door. In a daze, she took it. As they walked past her sister and Rhys she noticed Elain watched her while Rhys glowered at Eris. It was when they exited the door that the reality of the situation truly hit her. 

She entered that temple as an Archeron and walked out of it as a Vanserra. 

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

Next Chapter

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[bobgoesw00t]

Top 10 Video Games of All Time: bobgoesw00t Edition (Part 08)

Quick update before I get to my revealing my Number 3 Video Game of All Time! My immediate family is coming over on Christmas Eve and we're opening our presents that night, so I'll either be posting Number 2 then and Number 1 on Christmas, OR I'll be posting 2 on Sunday and 1 on Tuesday...OK now onto the actual game.

I had a hard time picking this one and I kept alternating between it and my Number 2 pick being in the other’s spot, but in the end I had to put the Game of the Year winner at The Game Awards 2022 here. So this means if you haven't heard by now, Number 3 goes to:

That's right, the MASSIVE behemoth from the brilliant (and partially masochistic) minds at FromSoftware that some people will say stole the GotY award from Dad of Boy Ragnarok, Elden Ring.

Now I feel like I need to mention that this is the first FromSoftware/SoulsBorne/Seikiro game I've legit owned, but I DID however play a bit of Dark Souls Remastered on my Switch to help prepare for when I started this game. I didn't beat Dark Souls (didn't even get past the first main area xD) but I got enough of a feel for it that I felt ready to tackle whatever The Lands Between.

And I did a good job...at first... I made a Warrior and made the mistake of going straight for Stormveil Castle and got my ass handed to me by Margit. SO after going, "FUCK THIS", I ran around the did stuff in the Weeping Peninsula and even opened that damn teleport trap in the Dragon-Burnt Ruins, ended up in Caelid and yeeted myself out of that damn mine ASAP. I eventually managed to get past Margit and cleared Stormveil Castle and headed into the next area (and discovered the hidden side route to it a bit later)...which is when it started to go south.

After a bit of struggling, I managed to get to Rennala and was able to kill her first stage without any struggle when OH BOY, SHE FUCKED ME UP IN THE SECOND STAGE!!!!! No matter what I tried, I couldn't kill her so I tried to find the back way to the Altus Plateau (cause I knew there HAD to be one as Liurnia and Caelid both had one) only to get stuck on one of the enemies and after 24 hours, I decided to make a different character (cause I had wanted to try out the magic in the game), made an Astrologer and in the end, she's the Tarnished who has since become Elden Lord twice (once with the Age of the Stars and again with the Age of the Duskborn). Already on my third run with her and I'm debating on which ending to go with but enough about MY journey.

People will tell you that Elden Ring is "HARD" just like the other FromSoftware games of late, but I'm here to tell you the game is only as hard as you make it 95% of the time. As long as you take your time going through areas, make sure not to over aggro and get overwhelmed, you won't have much of a problem taking out regular enemies. Bosses are a bit trickier obviously, but if you know how to exploit various parts of the game (the Bleed status can be VERY fucking powerful) and use the correct Spirit Ash Summon (those are in the game for a reason idiots who insist that they "break the game"), bosses can also be somewhat easier to kill.

The Lands Between are BEAUTIFUL (the only open world game that's prettier IMO is Ghost of Tsushima and dare I say it, the last three Assassin's Creed games), MASSIVE and full of locations to check out, which is one of the games main strengths. If you get stuck on a boss, back track a bit, explore a different part of the world, and come back when you've leveled up a bit and/or have upgraded your weapons. There's a high chance that you'll be able to kill the boss then and DAMN does it feel satisfying. Hell, you might do what I did on Haruka (my Astrologer) and spend so much time exploring other areas (I FINALLY found the back way onto the Altus Plateau and spent a good chuck on time up there. I also managed to find the greatest location in the entire game IMO: Dominula, Windmill Village...if you need any proof, I present the following video: https://youtube.com/watch?v=_JthoRyAb2Y&feature=shares) that when you go back to fight said boss, you'll be a bit OVER leveled and totally fuck them up...which is what happened to Rennala...and it was perfection!!!

There's also a large amount of weapons to try out and it won't be long before you find the one piece of equipment that you'll carry for the rest of the game. I ended up with Moonveil (fully upgraded to +10), and the Meteorite Staff to abuse it's boost to Gravity Magic...quite a few bosses don't stand a chance if you spam Rock Sling while using this staff. Spam the spell until you break their poise, run in for the Critical Hit, RUN AWAAAAAAAAAY, and then repeat until the boss goes "BLEH".

Armor, while not doing much at times, is also important at times as the passive increases to the resistance stats can make a big difference if Poison, Scarlet Rot and what not stack enough to be inflicted. Not to mention some of the armor is REALLY FUCKING COOL LOOKING, with my special shout-out going to the Black Knife Set for having a cloak that makes you partially invisible.

Then there's the various usable items and good god some of them are totally fucking hysterical...I'm talking of course about the Mimic's Veil, the item that turns you into a JPEG of a random object you'll find in the world. This is what got me to the Red Wolf of Radagon my first run! I tossed a throwing knife/dagger at a foe, broke line of sight, used the Mimic's Veil to hide and when the dumb ass came over to find me they go, "HMMM, THERE'S NOTHING HERE BUT A RANDOM TREE THAT SHOULDN'T BE HERE...OH WELL! I GUESS SHE'S GONE!", proceed to slowing walk away which is when I go "BAM", stab them in the back and they die. It's even funnier if you've been turned into a Weeping Angel like what happened to me one time: https://twitter.com/bobgoesw00t/status/1500987346421956613

I want to talk about the music now before I give the summary, some additional notes and the score. The various composers NAILED the soundtrack and I actually spent a good amount of time in the Character Creator the first time simply because of the pretty music that plays on it. The Final Battle track is STUPIDLY EPIC cause it's a more layered version of the Title Screen music and once it transitions to the Elden Beast, you hear a subtle, but still GORGEOUS bit of music that has a majestic feel to it, but NOTHING, and I mean, NOTHING can top the Regal Ancestor Spirit. HOLY MOTHER FUCKING HELL does that track give you goosebumps the first time you hear it. That boss fight isn't really that hard in comparison to some of the others due to how unique it looks and the music only helps make it the more memorable. I won't post a link to the track for those who haven't played the game cause I really don't want to spoil it for them.

Lastly, I want to talk about the two of the main boss fights, both of which are optional but are insane. Gonna talk about the badass bitch in The Lands Between first...you know her, you've talked about her, you've seen people rage quit/throw their controller/uninstall the game because of her, and just two weeks ago, Animal revealed that he thirsts for her at The Game Awards. I'm talking of course about none other than Malenia Blade of Miquella. A few months ago before G4 got shut down again, X-Play had an entire stream where Froskurrin tied for almost two hours to kill this badass mofo and she couldn't do it. My take on Malenia is this: don't even bother trying to kill her on your first run of the game. I managed to get to her on my first run, tried twice, and she fucked me up so quickly that I went, "NOPE!!! NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE, FUCK THIS, I'LL TRY IN THE NEXT RUN!!!!!" Which is when I nailed the Goddess of Rot and celebrated.

The other boss is probably the most epic fight in the entire game, the demigod that fought Malenia to a standstill and turned all of Caelid into a land of Scarlet Rot, Starscourge Radahn. What makes this battle so memorable is how you aren't supposed to take him on by yourself, but instead rally the various NPC allies to draw aggro away from you (even Patches who OF COURSE, nopes out of there within ten seconds of calling him xD) while they chip away at his health. Not to mention how the second phase starts with him leaping into the stratosphere, only to come CRASHING DOWN LIKE A METEOR and take out anyone dumb enough to be in the landing zone. This is also when you can totally cheese him by standing next to the edge of the ocean and if you position yourself correctly, you can get him to drown himself when he comes screeching back down to Earth. Now I have NO idea if they've patched this out yet (like they did with the two cheese methods the Fire Giant had) as I have yet to get to that fight in my current run of the game but if it's still there...I totally intend to do it. The battle is also hysterical in the fact that THE ENTIRE TIME you and your allies are fighting him, he's being carried around by a tiny, skinny horse that he is WAAAAY TOO BIG TO BE RIDING ON (and is only able to do so because of Gravity Magic) and it flails around like a Muppet every time it moves. Don't believe me, HERE'S THE PROOF: https://youtube.com/watch?v=OxvrVbV6RkU&feature=shares&t=588

In the end, Elden Ring TOTALLY deserved it's Game of the Year win at The Game Awards for not only having a MASSIVE world to explore with a large variety of places to explore, beautiful music, the traditional SoulsBorne combat with new additions (like being able to jump xD) and fine tuning to perfection. It also has a world created with help from George RR Martin, tutorials that are much clearer and can be re-read at any given time if need, abilities that are given at a good pace and some of the most intense boss fights ever. It certainly won my personal Game of the Year and is getting 5 Critical Hits out of 5: 5/5

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Dad of Boy/God of War (2018): While I'm talking about God of War Ragnarok, I want to mention the 2018 Game of the Year winner. Dad of Boy is a MASTERPIECE of story telling (a TRILLION times more so than the likes of Uncharted and The Last of Us. The latter being a good game with a good story, but it's nowhere NEAR a MASTER CLASS IN STORY TELLING. HELL, THE ORIGINAL RESIDENT EVIL ON THE PLAYSTATION HAS A BETTER STORY EVEN WITH THE CRINGEY DIALOG, "YOU WERE ALMOST A JILL SANDWICH" being a particular highlight xD), Atreus/Loki/BOY is a pure and precious cinnamon roll for most of the game and the fact that the entire game is done in a single take is impressive.

inFamous 2:Sucker Punch took everything from the first game, perfected it, upped the stakes in terms of the plot, gave it REALLY good soundtrack, a greater variety of powers (all of which are fun to use) and two endings totally worth playing this baby twice to get.

[nessinborderland]

Ronin (浪人)

Pairing: Samurai!Last Boss x Kunoichi!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: You finally meet again after a decade apart. Takatora is set on never being apart from you again. Ever.

Warnings: mentions of prostitution, sex (but nothing too explicit), 16th century Japan, forbidden love, mentions of underaged intimacy between consenting teenagers

Notes: @adarlingmess​ asked: I'm gonna feed your Takatora Samurai AU with this request: Samurai!Last Boss having an affair with the ninja his clan hired, Kunoichi!Reader 👀 KCJDKXJX YOUR BRAIN SO SEXY 🤩 I love this idea so much, fuck yeah. Tysm for feeding my obsessions 🥺 Again, this turned into a one-shot lol. Hope you enjoy! (And please don’t be shy, lemme know your opinions on this 👀)

Takatora waited.

The cheap brothel he was in was a small two-story building, a bar on the ground floor with a few rooms above. It served low-quality sake and the floor was mostly dirt and hay, but it was clean and he knew people there minded their business.

He made sure to pay the old lady behind the counter enough money for that.

The establishment was full at that hour of the night, with customers drinking and flirting with the women that walked around in skimpy clothing. The prostitutes smiled and laughed, searching for a man to spend an hour or two, and hopefully make some money out of it.

They knew not to approach him.

"You're looking awfully lonely."

At least some did.

He glanced at whoever spoke to him, ready to send them away, when his eyes locked on your face. He was unable to do anything but stare, mouth agape as he took in your features. You looked different, you sounded different; but it was you, without a doubt.

"Y/N–"

"I'm assuming you got my note?" you asked, eyes nervously glancing around you. He did the same, quickly assuring himself that no one was paying attention to any of you. He nodded and retrieved a small piece of paper where you had scribbled a code.

"You remembered..." he said. After so many years, he would never believe you to still know the code that you had invented as love-struck teenagers.

"Of course I do," the smile you send him took his breath away. Your hand raised to lay on top of his, still holding the cup of sake, sending an electric-like sensation throughout his body. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as you pressed yourself against his side, mouth so close to his own that he felt himself get hot all over, "I've missed you, Tora."

Your kiss was exactly like he remembered; soft, warm and passionate. It set his body on fire, a burn that grew into a desire so big he could barely control himself from taking you right there on the counter.

You broke the kiss before he could pull you into his lap, pressing your cheek on his as you took deep breaths.

"We shouldn't do this here," you whispered in his ear, "If Lord Takeda finds out–"

"He won't, I made sure of that."

It only took a look between you for him to stand up and take you upstairs. You walked through the narrow hallway, him pulling you by the hand as you hurried to a room at the end. Moaning and giggling could be heard on either side of the hallway, shadows visible through the paper-thin sliding doors.

You were kissing the moment you sled the door of your room shut. You undressed each other’s kimonos like ravaging animals, hungry for each other's touch, each other's body, each other's kiss. It had been so long.

Your body felt and looked different after all those years. You were a grown woman now, body full of curves and skin still soft but tarnished with scars that weren't there before.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

"I missed you so much..." he whispered against your lips, gently laying you on top of the simple futon that was the only barrier between your body and the tatami-mat floor.

You moaned, gripping his long hair as his hands started touching all over your body, big palms kneading your breasts as his tongue tasted the saltiness of your skin. He got drunk on your words of praise and lust, wanting this moment to last forever.

It wasn't long before you felt him against your core, hard and leaking as he positioned himself in-between your legs. He shoved himself inside you at the same time he groaned into your mouth, swallowing your moans as he filled you to the brim.

Being inside you again felt like a dream, warm and wet cunt gripping his length like you wanted to keep him inside you forever. He took deep breaths as he slowly started to move, afraid he was going to finish before he had barely begun.

"Please move...Tora, please," your words made it impossible for him to control himself for much longer, lost in your body and all the pent-up desire. So he did what you told him to do, more than happy to obey.

That's what he did best, after all.

But not always.

"What do you think Lord Takeda will do if he finds out?" you asked after you were both satiated and spent, lying in each other's arms as you regained your breath. He took his time answering, not wanting to think about it. Even the possibility of it made his stomach turn.

"He will have me killed for laying with his favorite kunoichi," he said, arm tightening around your shoulders in an unconscious gesture, "But I like to think that he will have mercy on you."

"You know that I tried to come back to you..." you whispered after some time of nothing but complete silence. He hummed in acknowledgment, and you continued, "But I had missions to complete every time I tried to come back, and in the rare times I was here you weren't, and–"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," he interrupted, "I know Lord Takeda went to great measures to stop us from seeing each other..." it hurt Takatora to think about it like that, but it was the truth. When they grew up, his childhood friend – Takeda Katsuyori – became the daimyo of the clan while he – Samura Takatora – became his samurai. The fact that they both loved the same girl only strained their relationship further, "He loves you, you know?"

"But I chose you ten years ago," you said with a kiss to his chest, right on his tiger tattoo, "I chose you tonight," a kiss to his neck, "And I will choose you ten years from now."

He hungrily kissed you back when you reached his lips, already burning in desire for you. You made love again, so desperate and passionate like only two forbidden lovers could be.

"Run away with me," he blurted out hours later when you were both on the verge of falling asleep. But he couldn't. He couldn't rest knowing that there was the possibility that he would lose you again.

He meant what he said. He would rather become a ronin and be with you, than continuing to live without you by his side. You stared at him with wide eyes, and he waited, hopeful and terrified of your answer.

Then you nodded and smiled, a beautiful grin that made him sure that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who dared to stop you.

Anyone.

You parted ways before the sun was up, with a kiss and the promise to meet again that night when the moon was at its highest.

He spent his day thinking of you, anxiously waiting for the time where he could inconspicuously flee the castle. When that time arrived, he grabbed the few belongings he had and his treasured daisho set, stole a horse, and went to the agreed place.

Takatora waited. But you never showed up.

So he drew his katana and did what he had to do and. 

A Ronin had no masters, after all.

Kunoichi: female ninja

Daimyo: Japanese feudal lords

Daisho swords: set of long and short swords, worn by Samurai warriors. The long sword is called Katana and the short one is called Wakizashi.

Ronin: a samurai without a lord or master

[eveningstar1516]

Rise Of The Demon King ~ Chapter 1

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So I've been meaning to post this on here and I finally am. I'll be posting a chapter a day but the completed version is up on my Ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 1 - Awakening Day (1,526 words)

It’s been a few years since the exchange program ended. It was such a great success that Lord Diavolo had passed a law allowing inter-realm travel between the Devildom and the Human realm so long as you are approved with the proper paperwork of course. You were one of the few with a special pass to come and go as you pleased while skipping all the procedures. The day you visited was a special day. It had been the day the Demon King “Abandon” would awake from his slumber and return to the throne until he deemed Diavolo fit to rule as a permanent king instead of an heir. After much debate, you convinced your 7 demons to allow you to attend the ceremony. As they were high ranking Lords, they had to be present by Diavolo’s side while you stayed within the crowd with Solomon.

Awakening Day

“So what’s the Demon king like?” you asked the group on your way to the palace.

“Well, we’ve never actually met him. We came to the Devildom while he was still asleep” Satan answered.

“I heard that his aura is so powerful that even if you didn’t know him, which is impossible, that you would both fear and respect him on instinct. It’s rumoured that he is the only being in existence that could possibly challenge the Celestial realm and stand a better chance than we did!” Beel inquired.

“Well if Diavolo got any of his looks from him then he might be one of the most handsome beings in the three realms, after me of course!” Asmo added.

“Remember all of you, King Abandon is not like Lord Diavolo. Lord Diavolo might take enjoyment from your little escapades and shenanigans but His Highness will not tolerate any of that. You are all high ranking Lords, the “Rulers of Hell” I expect you all to behave yourselves and at least try to act the part. That means no inappropriate jokes, going off to steal something, sleeping at inopportune times, constantly snacking, or having your nose buried in a book or console. Our behaviour will reflect on Lord Diavolo and I will not have any of you tarnish it.”

“Oi! We can behave if we want to! Besides this is the King! We’d have to be absolute morons to try and do anything to him!”

“Well Mammon, we’ll just have to keep an eye on you, our moron of a brother,” Asmo said while ruffling Mammon's hair.

“HEY QUIT IT!”

“All of you enough! We will be arriving soon. Remember best behaviour-”

“Alright, Lucifer, you can relax. We’re not crazy enough to invoke the King’s wrath.” Satan said in an attempt to soothe over the eldest concerns.

“Y/N, are you absolutely sure you will be alright with Solomon?”

“Yes, Lucifer I’m sure. I’ll stay right next to him the entire time. I promise.”

With that, we arrived to see Solomon and a few other high-ranking Demons waiting outside the palace courtyard to be allowed in. Upon seeing us, Solomon walked over, extending greetings to each of the brothers before turning to me. Before he could do anything I gave him a big hug.

“How’s my favourite wizard?”

“Hehehe, nice to see you too Y/N. Are you ready to see the King?”

“Yes! I’m so excited. Reading about him just isn’t enough. Have you ever met him?”

“No of course not! I’m not that old!” Solomon replied between laughing breaths.

“We will be heading inside to meet with Lord Diavolo before the ceremony. I trust that you will keep Y/N safe right, Solomon?”

“Of course Lucifer. I love them as much as you guys do. Besides if I don’t you’d all just kill me and I for one enjoy my life.”

With that, the brothers bid me goodbye turning to head into the palace leaving me and Solomon waiting with the other demons for the ceremony to take place.

A little while later, the courtyard is packed with demons and sorcerers of all ranks, waiting to welcome their king back.

“Nervous?”

“A little but who wouldn’t be? I just hope that things won’t change so drastically now that the king is ruling instead of Diavolo.”

“I won’t be so sure, from what I’ve heard, he rules with an iron fist and is much harsher than Diavolo when it comes to his court. As Diavolo’s right hand, Lucifer will be very busy in the upcoming days. I imagine he will be even more stressed making sure his brothers stay in line.”

“Wow, you didn’t need to dump everything on me all at once…”

“It’ll be alright, you’ve handled worse, this’ll be easy in comparison. As long as you don’t anger him or anything like that.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on doing any of that. Although things never go as planned for me huh?”

“No, they usually don’t do they?” he answered with a chuckle.

Before I could answer, we heard what sounded like fanfare and the crowd quickly quieted down. At the front of the courtyard stood Lord Diavolo in his demonic form with Lucifer at his right and Barbatos at his left also in demon form. The rest of the brothers and a few other high ranking elders and demons stood behind in their demonic glory in accordance with their rank. Diavolo then addressed the crowd.

“Denizens of Devildom! Thank you for coming out today to welcome my father His Highness King Abandon back to the Devildom. I will not keep you here so without further wait, HIS HIGHNESS KING ABANDON OF THE DEVILDOM!” As soon as Diavolo introduced his father, a tall dark man resembling Diavolo stepped up from the shadows in his full demonic glory. His demon form surprisingly simple and modest but still elegant enough to be fit for royalty. His horns unlike Diavolo’s curve upwards from the side of his head and onto the top forming a crown-like shape with gold swirling around it and admonishing the tip. His eyes like golden lava glowing in the lighting and you were convinced that he could set anyone ablaze with just his eyes and little thought. His upper body much like Diavolo’s is full of tattoos symbolizing his royal status. He brandished 4 large black leather wings with golden tips and blood-red accents. While he didn’t have a multitude of accessories like his son, the few he wore complimented his attire greatly making him look even bigger and more regal. He presented an aura that screamed for you to have the utmost respect when in his presence. As if on instinct, everyone present immediately bowed down taking a knee with their hands on their hearts along with those on stage. The kings’ eyes swept over the crowd taking in the different ranks all present for today when you felt a gaze settle on you, the only non magical born human here. I didn’t dare to raise my gaze or move, keeping my head down and as still as possible until I felt his gaze avert from my figure. Sensing my tension, Solomon risked a glance towards me without moving his head and I returned it with a slight smile to try and reassure him that I'm alright.

“RISE!”

At once, all that were present stood at once. Those on stage adopting a soldier-like pose with their hands behind their back, expressions betraying nothing. If this were any other situation, I would've sent them a smile and thumbs up. I wasn't used to seeing them like this and was impressed by their behaviour; though now was not the time for that.

The king then started addressing the crowd. Taking the opportunity, I studied him a little closer; never meeting his eyes and keeping my gaze as respectful as possible. During his speech, he raked his eyes across the crowd and would rest his gaze on mine more than once. Each time he did, I suppressed a shudder as his gaze looked like he was picking me apart and looking right through me. Solomon sensed my discomfort and squeezed my hand to assure me that he’s got my back should something happen. After he finished, everyone bowed their heads with their hands over their hearts as he left the stage along with everyone on it by ranking order. Soon after he left, everyone buzzed back to life talking among themselves about their king and leaving to get ready for the ball happening that night in honour of the king. As Solomon and I were leaving, Barbatos appeared by our side.

“Hello Y/N, Solomon”

“Hello Barb, is everything alright?”

“Yes, all is well. The king requests your presence is all. I’ve been sent to get you.”

“Oh,” I felt a pit form in my stomach. I’ve never interacted with royalty other than Diavolo and I didn’t know how to act when it came to the king.

“Alright. Sorry, Solomon, I’ll see you tonight right?”

“Of course. See you tonight.”

With that, he said his goodbyes to both Barbatos and I, then left. I took a deep breath and followed Barb into the palace.

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[fruitcoops]

OHHHH WE NED SOME OREO SMUT!!! PLLLEEEEAAASSEEEE !!!!

Anon 1: Could u do Cap fucking Loops? Pretty pls with a cherry on top! 🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

Anon 2:  Pls do one with Regulus walking in on coops lmao

Ask and ye shall receive! We haven’t done smut in a while...

Side note: I LOVE the term Oreo smut and would like to clarify for folks that this is the evening/ night after Jules left in the babysitting fics series! Coops certainly earned their Oreos! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut, praise kink, showering together

They barely made it to the couch. Remus’ mind was too foggy already to even consider the living room windows—he whined when Sirius broke away to reach up and close the blinds, and pinned his shoulders back down as soon as the sunlight dimmed. “Come on, come here,” he panted between biting kisses, cupping Sirius’ jaw in his hands and grinding down until he made him moan. “There you are.”

“God—fuck—Re, I want you.” Sirius’ hands pressed hard into the muscle of his back and he shivered as a wave of tingles washed over him. Three weeks and they had only managed a single rushed blowjob before their game. It was a miracle neither of them had popped a blood vessel.

“Lube’s upstairs.” Remus hitched the hem of Sirius’ shirt up and threw it to the side, immediately running his palms down the warm, smooth skin. He bent down to bite along Sirius’ collarbone.

“Off, off.” Sirius had his shirt halfway over his head before Remus could blink and he reached back to tug it away, drawing a harsh exhale from Sirius’ chest.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” A broad hand closed around the back of his neck and pulled him back down as Sirius wrapped his other arm around his waist and rolled his hips, making them both gasp. “Sweetheart, please.”

The nickname raised a million goosebumps across his whole body and he nodded, fumbling Sirius’ belt off before attempting to get his button undone with clumsy fingers. “I’m so horny I can barely think right now, holy fuck.”

Finally, the button came free, and he yanked Sirius’ jeans down his thighs as two warm palms slid down the back of his pants to cup his ass. “I missed you.”

“That’s so not fair.” His grip tightened and Remus arched into the feeling; the front of Sirius’ boxers was already turning dark with his arousal and the clear outline of his dick pressed against the tight fabric. “I love you so fucking—”

The front door flew open and someone stumbled in. “Am I late—oh, shit!”

All three of them shouted in alarm; in a flash, Remus was on the floor, disoriented and wincing as his tailbone smarted with pain. “Regulus, fuck off!” Sirius spluttered as he held the knit blanket over his entire front.

“What the hell are you doing here? Close the fucking door!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Regulus didn’t take his hand off his eyes as he stumbled backward and shut the front door. “I promised I’d say goodbye to Jules, but my interview ran long and—”

“Get out!” Sirius and Remus shouted at the same time.

“Sorry!” He blindly felt for the doorknob and ended up bumping into the end table, which he apologized to as well.

With an infuriated huff, Sirius stood up and grabbed the back of Regulus’ shirt collar, wrenching the door open and carefully guiding him onto the porch without showing the entire neighborhood his underwear. “I love you, Reg, but I’m confiscating your key if you don’t learn how to knock.”

“I did knock!”

“Knock louder!”

“Jules already left, I assume?”

Sirius closed the door and locked it. “Uncover your eyes before you walk down the steps, they’re slippery!” he called through the wood.

“Thanks!” came Regulus’ muffled reply.

Sirius trudged back to the couch and flopped facedown into the pillows with a groan. “I love you, but I’m going to murder your little brother,” Remus said from the floor as he stared at the ceiling.

“Be my guest.”

“Are you still horny? Please tell me you’re still horny.”

Instead of responding, Sirius stood up and grabbed Remus’ hand, hauling him upright into a bruising kiss that turned his knees to jelly. “Upstairs. Right now.”

Remus stuck his lower lip out and rubbed his tailbone. “My ass hurts.”

“I can fix that.” Sirius reached down and swept him off his feet into a cradlehold. “Voila.”

“Careful, I might get used to this,” Remus teased, draping his arms around Sirius’ shoulders and leaving lovebites on his neck as he walked up the stairs; they both winced when his shin hit the bannister and Sirius carefully maneuvered them through the bedroom door before dropping Remus unceremoniously on the bed.

“Distracting me while I’m carrying you up a staircase may not have been the best idea, mon coeur,” he said as he pressed his mouth to Remus’ sternum and worked his pants down his legs.

Remus smiled and stretched his arms over his head. “I’ve got faith in you.”

“For someone who was just scolding me for fairness—” A quick squeeze of his hipbones made him gasp. “—I would hope you’d be less hypocritical.”

“Lucky for me you like it, hmm?”

“I guess so.” Warm weight pressed Remus into the sheets as Sirius finally reached his face, pulling him closer until their noses bumped. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“How’s your ass?”

Remus shrugged. “I mean, nowhere near as great as yours, but—”

“I meant are you okay?” Sirius laughed, pinching his ribs lightly. “You hit the floor pretty hard.”

“I’ll live,” Remus assured him with a brief kiss, licking into his mouth a bit. “Now hurry up, handsome.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and propped himself on his elbows, just out of kissing range. “Hurry up? After three weeks of chastity? Hell no, sweetheart, I’m taking my time with you.”

A thrill raced through Remus’ belly and he ran his hands down Sirius’ sides. “Okay.”

“Yeah, you like the sound of that.” He grinned, leaning down to suck a hickey on the hinge of his jaw. “Want me to take my time? Go nice and slow?”

Remus angled his chin upward, but Sirius pulled away and he made a grumpy noise. “Not that slow.”

“Turn over.”

Captain voice!!! A small portion of his brain began throwing confetti and whooping, and he slowly turned onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms. Sirius waited there for a moment, straddling Remus’ waist and tracing patterns over his back; can’t make it too easy for him, he thought as he ground his hips upward.

Sirius smacked his thigh lightly. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You know what you did.”

“Do I?” Remus craned his neck to look over his shoulder and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“You always know what you’re doing. Are you going to be a brat today?”

Remus quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

His gaze darkened into tarnished silver and he snapped the band of Remus’ briefs before sliding them off and dragging open kisses down his spine, vanishing from his sightline. Remus gasped as his hand dug into one side of his ass and his teeth sank into the other. “You’ve got a bruise on your tailbone.”

“Sirius,” he warned.

“I know.” The light bite turned into a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t. Just relax.”

Relax. I can do that. Remus settled his shoulders back into the pillow and exhaled slowly as Sirius littered his back with kisses and small bites, rubbing his thumbs in the divots on his lower back. “We haven’t been like this in a while,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

He felt Sirius smile against his shoulder blade. “We haven’t. I still want to see you, though.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Good boy.” The unexpected praise sent a jolt down Remus’ entire body and he shuddered; Sirius’ chest hitched. “That was fun.”

Remus definitely did not whine, and anyone who tried to claim otherwise had no proof. “Come on, baby.”

“I’m savoring the moment, sweetheart,” Sirius said with a smile in his voice as his breath ghosted past Remus’ ear and made his eyes fall shut. “Are you going to melt on me that quick?”

“I might.”

“Then turn over, I want to see how pretty you are.”

“I love it when you call me pretty,” Remus sighed, stretching his back as he rolled over again. His knees bracketed Sirius’ hips and he gave him a playful squeeze. “Nobody else has done that before.”

“Then everybody else is missing out.” Sirius took a deep breath as Remus drummed his fingers on his ribs and ran a palm down to slip under the elastic waistband of his underwear.

“These have been on too long. Off.”

Sirius gave him a look, but removed them all the same. “Who’s in charge here again?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.” From the look in his eye, Remus could tell Sirius knew he was messing with him. He pushed upward in challenge, as if he was going to flip their positions, and Sirius firmly pressed his hip back down.

“It’s me.”

“Yes, Captain.” Remus bit his lower lip and saw Sirius’ eyes track the movement with a steady stare.

“You have done so much these past couple weeks while your family was here,” he said while he retrieved the lube from their nightstand. “And you were amazing with Jules, as always.”

Remus reached up and tucked a stray curl into its proper place. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Maybe. But right now, your only job is to lay there and relax, alright?”

“So I get to be a pillow princess tonight?” he laughed.

“A pillow prince,” Sirius corrected as a grin tugged at the side of his mouth. “A pillow lord. I’ll get you a crown if you want one.”

“But I like doing things for you.” Remus ran his thumb under Sirius’ eye, and he leaned into the touch, kissing his wrist. “And doing things to you.”

Sirius hummed in thought, settling onto his elbows as he uncapped the lube. “Let me rephrase, then. Your only job is to lay there and take it like a good boy for me. Think you can manage that?”

Remus tilted his head back and swallowed down a moan. “Yes.”

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” he said, making his way down the column of Remus’ throat; his hands gently guided Remus’ thighs apart and first finger slid in after a moment of resistance. Teeth scraped against the long scar on his shoulder. “Just like that, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.”

“Yeah?” Remus breathed.

“Yeah. You can get a little melty if you want, I don’t mind.” Sirius moved his finger slowly, crooking it only once before resuming his steady presses. Remus almost missed the second and pushed back into it with a low noise of approval. The heavy warmth faded from his torso and neck as Sirius sat up—one of his palms wrapped partway around Remus’ thigh, pushing it back toward his chest and using his side as a brace to keep it there.

Remus’ eyes flashed open and he gasped; his hand flew over his head to grab the headboard as his other twisted in the sheets at the new angle. Sirius added a third finger and, after a minute of adjustment, began prepping him in earnest. “Fuck, that’s good,” Remus groaned, pushing back onto his fingers.

“Easy, sweetheart, no need to rush.”

“But I want to.” Remus pried his fingers off the headboard and pulled on Sirius’ shoulder. “Come on, fuck me already.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“Please, baby?” He made eye contact with Sirius and pouted his lower lip a bit; not enough to be true puppy eyes, but just on the right side of needy that it would catch his attention.

“You’re adorable.”

“And you’re drop-dead gorgeous.” A lazy smile spread across his face when Sirius hit his sweet spot and he arched into it, pressing his knee into the side of Sirius’ ribs. Thank god for flexibility, he thought. “Yeah, like that.”

“Like that?” Sirius pushed a little higher and Remus’ jaw went slack with a huff. He nodded, feeling desperation seep in, and Sirius’ lips twitched up. “Ready?”

“Been ready for fifteen minutes, but—oh.” Remus gripped Sirius’ forearms as he began to push in; between the lube and his special talent that still drove Remus half out of his mind, the glide was smooth. “Oh, fuck, I missed this.”

“Remember to breathe, mon coeur.” Sirius’ voice sounded tight and Remus took a shaky breath that turned into a whimper when he pulled out again.

“Wait, no, come back.”

Sirius laughed, a little strained as he dropped to his elbows and pressed their foreheads together. Remus wove his hands in the soft locks on pure reflex. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s so good with you every time.” The last few words came on a punched-out exhale as Sirius’ dick grazed his prostate; his leg spasmed at the feeling and he wrapped it around Sirius’ mid-back, doing his best to keep the other from sliding up as well.

“Are you sure?”

“Every time,” Remus said, firmer. “Every time, because it’s you oh my god keep doing that.”

“This?” Sirius pressed the pads of his fingers into the muscle of Remus’ lower back and ground into him, pulling a soft cry from his throat. “Good job. And you kept your leg up, too?” Remus nodded, breathless. “You’re doing so well. Remember, sweetheart, all you have to do is take it. That’s it.”

“Useful,” Remus panted. “Wanna be—wanna be good for you.”

“You don’t have to be useful to be good for me,” Sirius said softly, guiding one of his hands out of his hair to kiss his pulse point. “I always think you’re good.”

Remus gave him a playfully skeptical look. “Always?”

“Most of the time.” Sirius smiled and laced their fingers together, pressing his hand into the mattress by his head. “But you do that on purpose.”

“Looks like you’ve got me figured out.” He turned his head to the side as the next thrust made his vision speckle with black. “Need to get some new tricks.”

“Hmm.”

The pressure on his palm increased as Sirius transferred his weight and wrapped his hand around Remus’ shaft, giving him a quick tug that drew a strangled noise of surprise form him. His straight leg kicked out and nearly connected with Sirius’ ankle. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright, I know you didn’t.” How the fuck does he keep his voice so even? Remus shuddered and squeezed Sirius’ waist between his thighs. “God, you’re strong now.”

“ ‘m I hurting you?”

“Nope.” Sirius kissed him, gentle in contrast to literally everything else he was doing that made the bed creak and Remus unravel. “I like it. I love you.”

The words made Remus feel all syrupy, like molasses replaced the blood in his veins. “I love you, too.”

“We’re getting married in five months, sweetheart.” Sirius mouthed along his neck and jaw, paying special attention to the edges of his scars and the freckles that had mostly faded throughout the winter. “Do you know what the best part of that is?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll get to tell everyone how amazing my husband is. How pretty, and strong, and talented, and wonderful.” Remus’ chest prickled with a blush and Sirius shushed him softly, skimming his thumb over the crown of his dick until he whined. “It’s the truth, mon coeur. You always get so flustered, it’s so cute.”

“Sirius—Sirius, baby, I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.” Remus gripped his hand and slid his thigh along his side, unable to stop the trembling in his torso. Sirius’ hand was tight and quick around him and the pressure—fuck, the pressure—was deep enough that Remus could practically feel it in his throat. “Sirius, Sirius, please.”

“Any time you want, Re,” Sirius said, though his voice had become breathier. “Any time. You deserve it.”

Remus came with a gasping moan, pressing the side of his face into the pillows and flexing his fingers around Sirius’ as he arched his back. Sirius stroked him through it like the absolute sweetheart he was, and after taking a moment to collect his scattered thoughts, Remus pushed him onto his back.

His hip was a bit sore from holding his leg up for so long, but not so sore that he couldn’t ride out the aftershocks and bring Sirius over the edge as well. He ground down slowly, bringing one of Sirius’ hands up to kiss his wrist between heavy breaths. “You with me yet?” he asked into the sweat-salted skin. He pulled off his dick and laid on top of Sirius’ chest, running a hand through his hair.

Sirius muttered something unintelligible and draped his arms over Remus’ back, pulling him close enough to hug. “We rocked parenting this week,” he said after a few heartbeats of comfortable quiet.

“Damn right we did.”

“We totally deserved the last…” He cracked an eye open to glance at the bedside clock. “Hour of activity.”

“Except Regulus.”

“Except fucking Regulus, mon dieu,” Sirius laughed. “I really am going to take away his house key.”

“I think he’s going to need therapy,” Remus snorted and tossed the lube into the drawer again.

“He didn’t see anything terrible, it’s fine.” Sirius closed his eyes with a smile and tucked his face into Remus’ neck. “Hmmm, goodnight.”

“Oh, no, no, no, we’re showering.” A truly spectacular pout made him laugh. “At least, I’m showering, and you’re welcome to join me.”

The pout disappeared into a puppylike grin and Remus clambered out of bed, pulling his ridiculous fiancé along by the hand as they stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the water.

“We’ll need to buy more lube soon. We’re almost out,” Sirius said, snagging Remus’ shampoo off the bathtub ledge.

“You know that’s mine, right?”

“Yup. Turn around.”

“Every now and then I get a little bit nervous, that the best of all the years have gone by,” Remus sang under his breath as Sirius’ carefully ran a hand through his hair.

“Turn around.”

“Every now and then I get a little bit terrified, and then I see the look in your eyes!”

“Turn around!”

“Every now and then I fall apart!” they half-sang, half-shouted together.

Remus closed his eyes as shampoo began running down his forehead. “And I need you here tonight!” he belted with far more drama than strictly necessary. “And I need you more than ever!”

“And if you only hold me forever…?” Sirius trailed off slightly.

“It’s ‘and if you only hold me tight’,” Remus said, mock-exasperated. “God, Sirius, it’s like you don’t even want to be Bonnie Tyler.”

“My bad,” he laughed, kissing the back of Remus’ shoulder. “Ugh, I got soap in my mouth.”

“Thanks for washing my hair.”

“Thanks for correcting my lyrics.”

“Anything for you, love.” Remus leaned in for a kiss, making sure to keep his face out of the shower spray. He was pleasantly sore and absolutely exhausted—a good night’s sleep sounded like well-deserved perfection right about now.

[viperssunflower]

Lost Sunflower (Chapter 2)

Warnings: Swearing, alluding to sex

Chapter 1

Wiping your face and rinsing your mouth, since the bastard decided to cum on your face, you get ready to go back out on to the floor. Making your way down the steps, you pass a pair… enjoying themselves, on one of the top steps. Bold but also not the craziest thing you’ve seen. Oh not anywhere near close. Nearing the larger open floor to find a window to perch on, you find a hand wrapping around your bicep. “Come here dear” you hear from an all too familiar voice, your stomach dropping and being replaced with a hive of bees. Petyr pulls you to follow into his office space or whatever the fuck that room is called. “Have a seat, you are not in trouble” he says, but some how your stomach is still not settling. You do as he asks, but still find yourself wanting to try and escape. You are in dread he could snap at any moment, but so far his intentions don’t seem too dreadful as he sits down at his desk. “Now… as you most definitely know my dear, the Purple Wedding is near,” you nod. “With this is mind, guests from the far reaches of our world are attending, business will be... blooming.” Little Finger adds with a smile and fidget of his pin. Holding one hand with the other, you remain silent as you were trained to do so, awaiting his additional comments. “And you little sunflower, will be working days and nights the entire celebration period.” And, that is when your heart and stomach dropped, but you had to keep your head up. Had to show no change in facial expression or body language, because that’s what he wants. He wants you to crack, to break. Because you aren’t one of his favorite girls he praises, oh no, you were his treasure. Only you were the treasure he wants to see tarnish and burn. “Yes My Lord, of course. Whatever you wish.”

Some few hours pass now, another two customers satisfied one of with whose room you just fled from as it was another girl’s turn to have a go, he paid extra for two. It was also at this time that you found your small break to arrive. During these half an hours time you were allowed to return to your room to do as you bid. So with the time you had you picked up your book, the one with all the empty parchment pages and began to practice your writing and reading. Since your background on those two skills was rather dim to say the least, you had to go off of listening to others speak within the brothel and sitting on your window to hear the goers outside conversate. By now, you have perfected your common tongue. But that was not the issue for practice, oh no, the reason for your reading and writing was not just for their original means but to learn how to mask your accent. A topic you have to avoid at any costs, as only one person knows your true origin and you wish to keep it that way.

When time was up you found your way back downstairs and on the perch of a window. Waiting for company, as right now you did not fancy seaking and Olyver was not around to command as such you sat by the colored glass. One knee you held close to your chest, the other hanging and gently swinging as you watches the multiple… interactions take place in the room. This was until a figure appeared before you. A tall, broad figure. A prominent nose and proud face, but his eyes told it all. This man has for sure seen some things in his days. You have even seen him a few times within this very brothel, and you also just so happened to know his name... Playing the part and sliding a hand up to his shoulder, your bottom leg moving to gently tap the outside of his knee you give a simple smile. His own hand moving to your waist, only he chooses to place it where no skin is revealed, a gesture you appreciate but are surprised by. Nevertheless, you lean forward slightly moving to rub his cheek and under his eyes. You speak to him now, in a dull whisper

Hello Bronn.

(next chapter)

permanent tag last: @maxwell--lord @evyiione

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - xii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: While Lord Rumlow is being tortured, his fellow disgraced comrade is found in another kingdom’s port. 

Warnings: underwhelming filler chapter, descriptions of torture, 

Word Count: 2.3k

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

The musical clattering of the coins in the cloaked man’s pouch were muffled beneath the several hollered orders. York’s docks were packed to brim with several ships that brought in various goods for the young prince’s name day. From what the man could make out, the king and queen were determined to make this the best name day the young boy had ever experienced. He was surprised to find out, it would be the young man’s last.

He overheard one sailor planning to ship off. Good. He thought. Put as much distance between me and Brooken. The man stopped the sailor, hailing him over and flashing him the pouch of coins. “Where to, old man?” the young sailor asked. The cloaked man scoffed, not used to being addressed in such a manner.

“Far.” The cloaked man answered, swallowing his pride. He thought his life was more valuable than a status or a label. “Wherever you’d take me, boy.”

The young sailor stared into the pouch. The coins shimmered under the hot sun’s rays. There were enough coins in the bag to help his aunt. He probably wouldn’t have to sail ever again. “I’m headed to the Old World, sir,” the young sailor explained. “I’m setting sail in a few hours or so.”

The older man grumbled a bit. He didn’t like the idea of staying in York for a few more hours. He remembered the advice he had told a young queen days before – the longer you wait, the slimmer the chances at escape became. But he was in no place to argue, and no other ship was leaving, so he agreed. “What’s your name, sir?” The young boy asked.

“Alex.”

As Anthony and his wife were busy with the name day arrangements, trumpets blared out a somber tune throughout the halls of Iron Tower. The king stopped midsentence, registering the meaning – a noble had died. An awful feeling bubbled in his chest as he began to think his son did not make it to his final name day.

Moments later, Ser James Rhodes pushed open the throne room doors. Anthony frowned when he saw the redhaired Natasha, who was supposed to be in Brooken at your side. It was her duty as one of your ladies in waiting.

“Your majesties,” Natasha bowed.

“What’s happened?” His wife asked with a similar confused frown that mirrored his own. “Is your queen with you?”

Natasha took a deep breath as she looked around the crowded throne room. All eyes bore into her, all wondering the same. They had all heard the low notes from the trumpet… Some had assumed it called for the death of their prince, but had Lady Natasha come to deliver the body of their princess, instead?

“No, your grace,” Natasha answered after long beats of silence. “My queen is safe in Brooken.” She wasn’t sure how true those words were, but after witnessing the pure desperation on King Steven’s face and voice as he tried to find you, she had a bit of hope.

“Then, why are you here?” Anthony asked the younger woman. “Why aren’t you with your queen?”

“She asked me to deliver the body of …” Natasha gulped. Saying her name made it all too real. “Lady… Lady Wanda, who recently …” She choked on her words, tears brimming in her green eyes. “Who recently passed.”

“Oh, dear god.” The queen gasped. She nervously clasped the pendent on her necklace.

The king’s frown did not relent. He stared down at the young woman. Her tears were justified – she had lost a friend after all – but her eyes spoke a different story. There was something more to the simple tale she spun. He waved off everyone in the room, dismissing them from the chamber.

“Tell me the truth, Lady Natasha,” he urged, “for I see a deeper sadness in your eyes.”

“Your grace,” Lady Natasha muttered. Under your orders, she was not to spread the story of Wanda’s assault. As gruesome and horrible as the events that lead to her death were, the mention of her losing her maidenhood before marriage would tarnish her reputation. York’s laws would call that she be buried in an unmarked grave alongside common criminals who had no family. “My queen has demanded my silence.”

“You may be my daughter’s lady, but you are in my court,” Anthony pushed. His tone menacing, but after being in Brooken’s court under the rule of the once hailed Cruel King Rogers, it did not phase her. “You can tell me yourself, or I can bring in someone who will force it out of you.”

“Tony.” Your mother scolded. She cast a look of pity to Natasha. “Please, Lady Natasha, speak freely.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The arrow whistled in the air as the arrowhead pierced through the massive wooden board. A loud thuck! echoed throughout the silent stables followed by a pathetic whimper. Three men watched in the sidelines as the queen pulled another arrow from her quiver.

“Do you think she’s taking this a bit far?” Lord Wilson, though thoroughly impressed with your archery skills, grew rather restless as his queen toyed with her prisoner. Another arrow sliced through the air and made a similar thuck sound.

“She hasn’t even hit him once,” Steven reasoned. He, too, was impressed with your skills though he was rather disappointed that you had yet to graze his cousin’s skin. “My love,” his voice echoed, “you can get much closer than that.”

“Is that a taunt?” You asked, readying another arrow. Your husband smirked and shrugged.

Rumlow, whose chin was previously tucked into his chest as he cowered in fear, raised his head and shot an angry glare at his cousin. “Steve, you son of a –“he gasped when an arrow flew right in front of his face, inches from his eyes.

“And before, you think you can run,” you called out. Rumlow didn’t even hear – nor see – you draw an arrow as he screamed out in agony. The pain shot through his body as his eyes found an arrow lodged into his knee. You lowered the bow and sent a smirk his way before walking off towards the castle. “Bring him back to his cage.” You ordered the two guards who were in charge of his imprisonment.

As they dragged the disgraced lord away, James sent a curious glance towards his king. “I’m worried about her.” James muttered.

“As am I,” Sam agreed.

“She’s angry,” Steven said. “Her anger is rather justified.”

“Rumlow should’ve already been executed for his crimes,” Sam reminded. “If you are keeping him alive to sate your queen’s vengeance, then I’m afraid you are the cruel king you’re painted out to be.” The men chuckled at his jest.

“We cannot execute a noble without a proper trial,” Steven sighed.

“You beheaded Sharon without – “

“She confessed to the king about her betrayals,” James explained. “Rumlow has not.”

Steven added, “(Y/N)’s merely trying to coax it out of him.”

“He’s a rather tough shell to crack.” Sam agreed. “How is she, really, Steve?”

The king sighed. He glanced to the castle to see that you had already disappeared within its walls. Steven could barely understand your grief nor your pain. In the days that followed Rumlow’s capture, he had expected it to be easier for you. You had the opportunity to lash out and torture his cousin, and, to his surprise, you gladly took it. Steven thought that after wreaking havoc on his cousin that you would finally open up to him and allow him to be there for you, but you barely spoke to him about the incidents that plagued your nightmares. In fact, you barely spoke to him at all.

“It’s as if I’ve married a ghost,” Steven shook his head. “She thrashes around at night. I fear she replays the terrors in her mind when her eyes close. I see it in her eyes. Beneath the anger, the rage… She’s … She’s broken.” He sighed and rubbed his chin, slightly missing the roughness of his beard. “Any word of Pierce’s whereabouts?”

“Some say he’s hidden within the ranks of Thanos’s army. Others say he’s fled on a boat, but we would’ve caught him by now if he had been…” James said.

“Has King Anthony been informed?” Steven asked.

“We sent word we were looking for him, yes, but I’m sure Nat would relay the current events that took place to him,” James sighed. “Perhaps, you should talk to your wife?”

Steven shook his head. He didn’t want to pressure you into reopening the wounds – though he wasn’t even sure if the wounds had healed, yet. He felt as if he were walking on thin ice around you. Too harsh of a step forward, the ice would snap, and he’d get lost in the cold. He didn’t want to lose you by pushing you too hard. He had to believe that you’d come back to him in your own time.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Steven slowly entered the bedchamber. He had expected you to be sitting on the bed or standing on the balcony – it had become one of your favorite places after the night with the lanterns. But you were nowhere to be found. The king began to worry about your absence when he heard sloshing of water coming from the bath.

He knocked on the door before he entered. “(Y/N)?”

“He has yet to confess,” you muttered. Your knees were pushed up against your chest with your head resting on top of them. You were growing increasingly annoyed by Brock’s resilience. You glanced up at your husband who had nothing but concern all over his face.

“He will eventually,” Steve whispered. “But I’m not concerned about his confession…”

“No,” you said. “You shouldn’t be. You should be preoccupied with finding Pierce.”

“I’ve sent men out to look for him.”

“They aren’t doing their job!” You snapped. “Pierce is a powerful man. He’ll bribe his way to safety! You have to –“

“(Y/N)…”

“No!” Steve’s tongue grazed the back of his teeth as he watched you thrash about in the water. “We can’t… I can’t… I can’t just sit and wait while he – they – get away with this.” Your voice shook as you took your head in your hands. “I … I don’t – I can’t.” He watched as the rage slowly receded as the grief took over.

Instinctively, your husband rushed to your side and wrapped himself around you. He didn’t mind his clothes getting wet – he was just concerned for you. He rubbed your back as he tried to soothe you, allowing you to cry into his chest.

“I want him dead, Steve,” you whispered, voice muffled into his clothes. “I want them both dead.” The words frightened you. You would’ve never wished death upon anyone, but the two men deserved it.

“As do I,” he nodded. “But we cannot execute him without a confession.”

“He will not confess.” You repeated.

“I will make him confess,” Steve promised.

“Is it awful that I want to be the one to swing the ax?”

Steve shook his head. “No. You deserve to be the one to put him into his grave.” He kissed the top of your head.

“I want him to look me in the eyes and tell me everything,” you muttered. “I want him to confess.”

“He’ll crack.” Steve promised. “You will make him crack.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Boy!” Pierce called for the young sailor – Peter was his name. “Boy!”

“What, old man?” Peter snapped as he loaded the cargo onto the ship. Peter grew rather annoyed with the man’s incessant complaints. If he got off his lazy ass and helped, maybe I’ll load these faster, Peter thought as he rolled his eyes.

“What’s taking so long?”

The sailor sighed as he looked over to see kingsguard searching every boat. Peter shrugged. “Can’t leave, yet.”

“And why not?”

“You hidin’ from somethin’?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow at the cloaked man. He wondered why “Alex” wore a cloak… The sun was blistering hot.

“I’m just not fond of boats,” Pierce waved his hand. “Just want to get the travel over with.”

Peter sighed as the kingsguard approached. “Well, I think the king’s looking for something… or someone. He’s got kingsguard searching boats.”

“What?” Pierce’s eyes widened.

“You!” Ser James Rhodes stalked up to the young sailor. “Have you seen any strangers recently?”

Peter shrugged. “Just him.” He said, pointing to the cloaked man who was huddled up in the corner of the boat. “He’s just hitching a ride with me. What are you men looking for?”

The knight paid no attention to the young man’s question. His attention focused on the man in the cloak. “Odd choice of clothing on this hot day, sir,” Rhodes told the man. The boat rocked beneath his feet as he stepped onto it.

“You’re the one in a metal suit.” Pierce faked an accent.

Peter’s face scrunched in confusion. The man hadn’t spoken like that before.

“Well, you’re the one hiding behind a thick cloak,” Rhodes chided, faking a laugh. He took another step towards the boat. His hand clutched the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if needed. “Please do reveal yourself, sir.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“I’m afraid I must insist.” Another step. Another.

The cloaked man suddenly leapt up, a short dagger in his hand. He swung at the knight, who brought his sword up, deflecting the older man’s attack with ease. His sword cut through the man’s wrist. Pierce groaned in agony as his free hand shot up to grab at the bleeding stump. Rhodes grabbed Pierce by the cloak and hauled him off the boat.

“I believe the Brooken King has been searching for you, Lord Pierce,” Rhodes said. “But my king wants a few words.” He walked past Peter. “Thank you, kid. The crown appreciates it,” he told him. “Sorry ‘bout the boat.”

[nighttimepixels]

TALK TO US ABOUT MASS EFFECT I HAVE BEEN AN INSANE MASS EFFECT/SHAKARIAN TRASH PERSON SINCE 20-FUCKING-11 AND LEMME TELL YOU THOSE FEELINGS HAVENOT TARNISHED A SINGLE FRACTION IN THOSE TEN YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOODDDSSSS!!!!!!!

I DEMAND A PLAY-BY-PLAY UP TO THE MINUTE OF YOUR REACTIONS TO EVERYTHING!!!!

you are so valid and I totally see why everyone I've ever mentioned it to loves the hell out of it

aksdjlsdfj I meannnn if you want to hear my rambling about it then hell yeah

Okay, gonna put this below the cut to save everyone else XD also- since I'm not leaving this Mass Effect obsession anytime soon, if you're not interested in seeing occasional posts about it, please feel free to block the tag "night plays ME"~

(mild spoilers ahead??)

((also for real I mean it when I say this is rambling as hell lol, apologies and no stress if absolute no one reads all this))

OKAY SO Mass Effect 1-

Stars help me, I was honestly hooked right from the start?? Like even in Legendary Edition (the combined trilogy just re-released in one "can play it on one system + minor improvements", for anyone who doesn't know) where it's smoothed out, of course it's obvious that ME1 is a decade old... but the foundation for these relationships are all there and gods I love them already.

Like - Kaiden right off the top is a delightful good fightin lad, what the hell. I've heard that he's viewed as 'bland' by a good portion of the fan community but I dunno, he's a delight and even more complex by the time 2 rolls around and you encounter him on Horizon, it was honestly Ashley I was way more meh about - mostly because before you can learn about her family history/etc, she comes off as hella xenophobic and I was immediately offended for my growing space family that she didn't like/trust all the aliens around, pfff.

(she gets redeemed a bit through further actions/evolving thoughts, but I thought in retrospect it was a bummer that they didn't flip the order there, give her a chance to be liked before the complicating factor of being so rude about aliens >:c that then she could grow from... ah well. Apparently she has a good arc but uh, let's just say I chose Kaiden at the "key junction" in the latter part of the game so I won't be seeing anymore of Ashley uh... anytime soon, haha.)

Garrus??? Is??????? The ABSOLUTE best???????????

I liked him from the start, I'm always a bit of a sucker for a rogue-detective "the system won't bring this bastard to justice, so I've got to" type and all their moral shadiness XD But he just gets better, honestly, and where I'm at in ME2 (right before the Reaper IFF mission, as of typing this, with everyone's loyalty!) I am only digging myself deeper into this hole-

-*wheezing* okay anyways -

Wrex is AMAZING I love fightin' middle-aged krogan bastard, gods. Liara is great too, I'm a sucker for a wlw relationship (playing fem!Shepard, so) - buuuut I'll admit she's a bit more one-note in ME1. Last week while I was still on ME1 I remember hearing (while trying to dodge spoilers) that her arc is really good, though. I think they leaned a little hard on the 'innocent but sexy' sterteotype on her (so despite the yikes aspect of a few of the things I've learned in ME2, lol, I actually really like the complexity that's been added to her character.)

Saved Liara first, so by the time I got to Noveria and had the standoff with Benezia there was the chance to have emotions over Liara having to face her TwT and of course, I made the questionable but quality decision to free Queen Rachni heheh. no ragrets

More than a blow-by-blow of my choices though I totally wanna take the chance to say that even in the mild jankiness of ME1 (goddammit, the Mako.... please..... please just go up this impossible cliff I just want to resource hunt-) the way that the lore, both obvious/key to main plot and the lesser/filler/background/world-building kinds... I just love it. It incorporates it well, you can go ham in the codex learning more, or just dive into the basics - it's clearly a complex galaxy (and they do an even better job in 2 of fleshing it out further), and it never really felt overwhelming. It was pretty natural figuring it all out-!

Plus the interesting implications of resource hunting amongst the sapient races, and the little side missions you better bet I did every one of- there's so much rich depth in the story if you do 'em!! (And that lead with that Keeper side mission...? Looking back, damn, clever foreshadowing-!!!)

And oh my gods, Ilios??? hell yeah. I loved that mission so much, especially having Garrus & Kaiden with me when talking to the hologram/computer, and more than anything, that last sprint in the Mako trying to get to the jump before it closed-???

yeet the boi-

Also mannn I love a good setpiece, and having to go up the side of the elevator, space-side?? such a cool setup!!

Plus it felt good having been Paragon enough (as simple as the good v bad vibe system is, I don't hate it, lol) to avoid one of the Saren fights, ngl. And the er, "second fight" with Sovereign-Saren.... hell yeah

... I'll admit I had to double check my choice re whether to save the Council. I did in the end, but I swear, sometimes the way they phrase things I'm like ".... okay but Garrus is right, defeating Sovereign is more important than these few leaders??????" woops. Listen, priorities, is all I'm saying..... (￣ヮ￣|||)ゞ

'Course later they emphasize (in ME2) that there were 10,000 people on that same ship and I was like well I wouldn't have second guessed if I'd known that, I mean c'mon-

Also I did indeed romance Liara in this one, so I got that scene ;Dc But,,,, I also knew by the end that I was totally gonna romance Garrus in 2 since he's an option then finally,,,,, lemme tell you the guilt as I waffled over whether to romance Liara bc of it. hahaha.

Aaaaand Mass Effect 2-

So I'm only up to right before the Reaper IFF Mission, so I don't know the ending, etc etc lol. That said, I've just finished every side mission I've found with the exception of the Shadowbroker Quest and the Arrival Quest (I've heard the latter basically leads into ME3, and the former is best either right before the Omega 4 jump or in postgame).

So from the start - fuck yeah fuck yeah what a high adrenaline start Shepard noooooo but also yes save Joker aH-

The motion comic too hot damn nice job

I loved this setup, seriously - especially forcing Shep into this situation, having to work with/for Cerberus, and the compelling reasoning given behind "why" they do what they do (I especially found it a good point that the Salarians have the Task Force, the Asaris the Commandos, the Turians the- etc... like, true, when you put it like that, having a similar group advancing human interests/solving human interstellar problems is pretty reasonable...). That said, I love too that it really isn't shied away from how Cerberus is nonetheless fucked up - or its at least done fucked up stuff.

Listen, I still think some messed up stuff is gonna be revealed in 2's endgame......... after that Horizon mission and the Collector's ship???? TIM I SEE YOU YOU SHADY MF-

aaanyways lol...

I'm so so glad on a gameplay level they nixed the Mako style exploration. A few Hammerhead missions are fine and a lot more focused than the slippery ass navigation in that glorified ATV, pfff. The probes are a neat way of getting after similar resources - and more importantly, having good levels and some good hubs (the Zakera Wards, Omega, Ilium, etc) is way way more fun than having a more 'sprawling' space that is.... a lot of empty nonsense, lol.

Then there's the fact that we get Joker right off the bat and you can interact with him so much - and him and EDI??? Get out gods I love them. Kasumi is so right when she says they sound like a bickering old married couple lol. I have a terrible feeling that some shit is gonna happen with EDI..... but I don't think she's evil as-is, at least.

Side-eying the hell out of those "access forbidden" parts of her that she doesn't even know.... and the fact that her AI core has a locked door access................... something's gonna happen gdi LEAVE OUR ADOPTED AI ALONE.

(Also Joker pls stop fracturing your thumb on the mute button)

Also please save me there are so many hot aliens in this game,,,,, the xeno/monsterfuckers really comin' through strong in the sequels............... doin' the lord's work........................................

In general, I love how many levels ME stepped up in two with complexity and interwoven narratives!! Like, to the point it'd be almost a drag to replay ME1, even though it was fun going through it (if occasionally a bit tedious with the cookie cutter rando planet science/mine facilities, lol). Like, just from how fun and interesting ME2 is, mostly! more of all the pre-introduced races, plus new ones, plus more filling in of intragalactic politics, and more interesting implications of all these space-faring races mixing....

Also gods WREX and his planet holy shit,,,,, fuckin' hell yeah my man get their shit together and also adopt Grunt yes good-

And Mordin??? My singing semi-evil scientist best friend forced to confront his choices more than he thought he ever would have???? With some of the best ongoing general report chatter of all the companions??

(when I tell you I choked on my coffee when I talked to him after confirming romance choice w/ Garrus and that 'pamphlet' and 'anaphalactic shot if ingesting-' kajsldkfjsldfjk)

Like, fuck, the fact that they actually dive into the mixed morality and horrors of the genophage, and you can confront Mordin on it, for good reason, yet he still stands his ground, until finally some bits of his loyalty mission seem to... affect him, and I'm guessing might set up things for 3 with him? Unsure, but either way, damn, the fact that they start to dig into it...

And Taliiiii my beloved forbidden alien wife TwT her loyalty mission was SO GOOD. I love how varied they all are?? Getting to defend her and discover what she'd unwittingly been a part of-!!

Zaeed is a bastard but tbh I love that he is and that he's unapologetic in him - and Kasumi omg, best thief. A heist?? Gods, yes- I love our couch lounge chats XD

Samara is..... illegally.......... she's an illegally powerful and beautiful and eloquent MILF...........................

(.... listen I'm sapphic as hell and I'm kicking my own ass for picking her up last aksjdlfksjdfl - but her loyalty mission, damn. And seeing how there's this interesting cultural subset, and the struggle with the Asari in that they unquestioningly accept/respect justicars, but also know that the impact outside their culture is a diplomacy nightmare waiting to happen-)

,.,,,,,T,,, Thane,,,,,

I am weak for morally implicated murder dads okay?? And that voice??? His mannerisms?????? How you first see him, and that prayer after assassinating her...???????? And his history/his people's history with the hanar, gods I love how messy it is, it feels so much more real!

Also Jack is a mess and I love her (and want to get her some therapy, omg), and her and Miranda nearly duking it out after you've done both their loyalty missions??? so good and makes a lot of sense-! Honestly I would love more interactions between teammates on the ship, but there's already so much the devs had to balance I can't blame 'em for minimizing, heh. But suffice to say I also love Miranda and Jacob, even if I'm softest for my alien crew XD Hell yeah Jacob, we'll get loud and spill drinks on the citadel indeed TwT

.... I could write a whole essay on how much I love Garrus oTL Perhaps because he and Tali are the throughlines from 1 on your 2 crew, I have some of the strongest feelings about them... but genuinely, he was one of my favorite companions in the first game, and how you find him as Archangel in two? Getting to help him fight his way out after he's gone nearly 48 hours straight fighting off three gangs alone, jfc. His vengeance quest and what can happen there.... That line? fuck me, that line -

It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey? I don't know what to do with gray...

How DARE you come for my heart like this, devs holy shit

(also, some other choice faves so far from the series from him include We can disobey suicidal orders?? and This wasn't in my training manual... [in 1, if you have him with you @ th Thorian fight] and his whole.... pop the heat sink - in his romance ;Dc)

asdasdfksadjfkl like I said I can write an essay on him PFFF suffice to say I'm very looking forward to his romance scene and where things go in 3

But yeah gods I'm just gonna keep rambling if I'm not careful lol. Gods I don't even know what to talk about it's all so good and while I can understand people roasting the obviousness of Paragon V Renegade (v neutral) choices/alignments, I think they do a pretty damn good job in 2 of pushing it further - to the point that there were some times that I accidentally got renegade points and I wasn't that mad, haha. There's so much fun in the interactions that I just have a good time anyways~

I have so many thoughts about TIM (The Illusive Man) and Cerberus.... theories evolving galore............... and like, what the hell!! Omega 4 going to the center of the galaxy is such a cool twist, goddamn - though my heart still breaks at losing Kaiden (his line if you haven't romanced him?? about feeling like he lost a limb when he lost you??? holy shit.... but I also can't blame him for not trusting Cerberus to the point of it affecting his ability to trust Shepard... like fuck Shep go after himmmm) I'm really excited to see where that goes since he comes back in 3, and what the fuck happens with Cerberus bc while I love the fact that obviously there are a lot of people in it for the right reasons, doing good work, there are those that are doing the opposite, and I have a very bad feeling about where TIM will end up landing....

All that said though I need to do the Reaper IFF mission (where I'm lightly spoiled as to getting That Boy, but not how/what happens to make it so - just that it's apparently wise to have all your side missions done before getting him...) and the actual Omega 4 jump. So we'll see what happens and what I think about it from there heheh!

.... major kudos and genuine props if you made it here to the end, I am so sorry for not editing on condensing all this, and appreciate you so much ;w;

[blankdblank]

Ash Pt 15

Lip quivering the small boy in a tall tower inside an endless sea of creatures sure to tear him limb from limb he clung to the stuffed dog in a try to ignore the chain around his ankle. The Shadow Man wasn’t just in his dreams anymore. He had been in his room when he woke from his dream and snatched by the ankle and flown to this terrible place in a plume of smoke he just clenched his eyes and clung tight to the dog doll with an endless string of prayers that somehow he could be saved from this.

They had left him alone all night with just a worm infested clump of bread beside some sour smelling water in a tarnished and rusted cup. They left him alone. But they were coming back. He knew that. They had to. He offered them the ring he found and he begged and pleaded and apologized for taking it but that wasn’t what the Shadow Man wanted. Estel had no clue what he wanted, other than whoever Aragorn could be. The ring had been taken and slung around his neck on a rust coated necklace and each time he tried the boy couldn’t lift it with his hands even an inch. So all he had was the stuffed dog to cling to and his repeated prayers to the sound of a storm rolling in.

 *

Mordor. The sight of it dropped the heart of every warrior on board. However to split the silence in your guide of the ship higher beneath you after a hushed conference on what you might expect Saruman raised his staff and beneath you summoned a storm to aid in cover from the enemy filled city. All around the chanting Wizard guards readied their bows to grant cover in case spotted, each comforted that at least you would have the higher ground advantage while you managed to uncover where exactly in the city Estel was.

Beside NoNo you stood on the front balcony to her whine and sudden drop back into her doll form that you bent to lift and lower into your bag resting at your hip that to the flinch of hope to those who saw gave warning that the boy was at least within ten miles away. Raggedly side to side the braid you had pulled your hair back into whipped back and forth while your eyes scanned over the bodies in the city beneath the clouds that were closing in and lighting up with flickers and streaks of lightning that Saruman hoped would drive the orcs and goblins for cover to grant you more of a chance to sneak the boy out unnoticed.

“Please tell me you have a plan that does not involve you leaving this ship.” Thranduil said that turned your head to look up at his tear brimmed eyes. “I cannot give another to this cursed city.”

“I have a ship and a compass. I wish I had a plan to tell you.”

“Your Highness. The compass is glowing,” Tauriel said in her approach turning both of your heads.

To that you said, “Means we’re right on top of him.” Back towards the back of the ship you walked however to avoid the growing argument that the Elf Lords seemed to be locked in to the side of the ship near the door you darted and leapt over the side silencing them in Thranduil’s broken call of your name. Over the edge of the ship right behind you a five foot long swan glider with a seven foot wingspan flipped out of its mount and dove underneath your feet and knees when you lowered onto it on all fours. Another feature the former ships did not have and through the churning clouds they caught glimmers of the glider that in the flip they saw the bottom was mirrored to disguise you at least from underneath.

There wasn’t time for them to have sat there and talk the argument down. Exactly what they were fighting over had you leap over the side. Estel was alone and needed you. No matter how furiously your heart pounded in each use of these gliders and how to activate them in the first place you had to go now. So down between the storm clouds you plummeted until the glider you knew would soar after you had met the soles of your boots and hovered to let you drop to all fours and lock your palms onto the rotating controlling overlapped rings. Even through the rough choppy wind and rain that stung your body the lower you dropped over the city packed with roars. Without the compass the best guess you took for a hiding spot would be the tower out of grey stone across from the one in the distance with a red beam of light firing out of it on a slow swivel. Down lower in a fight against the next harsh gust of wind to a sudden jagged streak of lightning across the sky that shot down to zap a wooden hut far below that burst into flames even with the harsh rain.

Bounces up and down found you stubbornly at the nearest window that you rapidly dropped out of sight from it at the gnarled face on the other side of it on a spike that another one armed gnarled figure was carrying around to mount near to the other spiked heads along the wall. Around the side of the tower you steered and went around to the next two windows until you rose up on your knees to the sight of Estel curled around your stuffed dog. Anxiously you wet your lips ensuring he was alone and to a lean into the open window frame without bars or glass pane you said, “Psst,” The noise opened the boy’s eyes and timidly they rose to watch your hand shift in a circle with fingers extended to disintegrate the chain on his ankle. “Come here,” you whispered and waved him over.

An unnecessary hand motion as he shot up to his feet and raced over to the window that you awkwardly squeezed your arm and shoulder through the grab and lift him into then out of to settle on your lap. His hands fixed tight onto your shirt while you said, “Hold tight, up we go.” You said and rapidly turned the controller to shoot straight up with your free arm around the back of the boy curled up against your belly and chest. The sudden sight of the glider again and not one but two bodies had everyone sigh in relief with each of them readying to grab the pair of you in case the landing of the glider would be rough. Quite gracefully however you came to a hover in a clear square of the ground they emptied just for you and the boy who sniffled in his gladdened murmur, “I knew you were after me. Shadow Man wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Gandalf came closer to Elrond’s shared swoop in to claim the boy for a tight embrace only to pause at the sight of the ring around his neck that you asked, “Where did you get that ring?”

Lip quivering to the max tearfully he said, “I found Shadow Man’s ring, and he wouldn’t accept my apology. Then he made me wear this ring on this itchy chain and he gave me wormy bread and sour water,” loudly he gasped for air still struggling to not burst fully into tears and ruin his explanation now that he was safe again. “Then he put me in chains.”

Elladan, “Chains?!”

You glanced from him to Estel again then to the boy to say, “Let’s take it off then,”

Gandalf, “Do not touch it!” Your eyes shifted to him and he continued, “It must be destroyed and you must not touch it, through us it could wield unworldly powers.”

“Ok…destroy it, sounds fine. No touching, got it. We going back to Rivendell then?”

Elrond answered that for you, “We must cast it back into the flames from whence it came. The Fires of Mt Doom.”

Curiously you blinked in wait for an explanation as to where or what Mt Doom was. The ship took a broad turn to not disturb the raging storm below still held by Saruman in his chants that never faltered the realization that Estel couldn’t get the necklace off even after you broke the clasp meant the small boy had to come with you to the lazily smoking dormant volcano at the other end of the city.

“It won’t come off,” Estel said to another failed attempt to remove the loose chain from the ring that seemed to be magnetized to his chest.

Elrond then still on his knee locked eyes with the boy to say, “Estel, you are going to have to come with us. I know this will be frightening but we are going to need you to be very brave. Once we get inside the mountain perhaps together we can manage a way to get the ring off of you.”

His eyes simply shifted to you in his ease of the stuffed dog in his arm a bit higher on his chest, “As long as I can take the dog with me.”

You nodded in note of the volcano the ship was aimed for and answered, “TikTik can come too.”

He nodded and his eyes shifted to your side and his free hand rose to clutch three of your fingers his small hand could fix around that much to the dislike of the Elves and Wizards who had seen you leap off the side of the ship had wished to coax you into remaining behind safe on the ship. Red patches were seen underneath the darkening clouds when you peeked over the side to peer at showed the light scanning over the city now erupting in roars and horns.

Elrond on his feet sighed and fixed his hand in the hilt of his sword to Glorfindel’s statement of, “It would appear they know Estel is missing.”

Thranduil remained fixed behind you glaring down at the clouds mentally preparing for anything to keep you safe. Shouting at himself for not having ordered someone to have fetched your armored outer robe from your travels like so many other guards who were surrounding you.

Suddenly a loud ear ringing screech with a pained squint of your eyes you saw the black worm faced Fell Beast that above the clouds rose to take flight as was ordered to do so. Sight of the rider on its back had your hand rise to fire from the side of the ship a pulse of yellow light that blasted the spiked club wielding armored creature that flew off over then through the clouds. The act long enough for Legolas to have dropped his hands from his ears to notch and fire off an arrow that had the beast plummet right after its rider for a thunderous crash and a chorus of screams and perplexed shouts to arms of the mysterious threat from above. Tremors in the earth followed after with angered swivels of the red beam of light that had you ask, “What is that lighthouse for?”

Thranduil, “That is no lighthouse. That is the watchtower of Sauron’s fea, the last piece of him here in these lands to corrupt these lands and people. Bound to that ring, we destroy it he is wiped out of this world and we can cleanse our lands and find peace.”

“Ah, so it was possession,” you said in the clear eye stinging waft of sulfur as the ship came to a dip beneath the clouds. The bowmen now all readied again to the second and third Fell Beast shot them down to crash into the city below before another debilitating screech could be unleashed. If you had imagined you had the essence of surprise that all faded when all you could see was red. A turn of your head had the source easily spotted as the giant eye topped tower with its red beam fixed on each and every one of you.

All at once the world seemed to slow to the growth of that same echoed whisper you heard from that same cauldron. Through the muffled haze the hand on your back jerked you back to the present. And the magma lit entryway had your focus again to Thranduil’s shout to name Tauriel in charge of the Silvan forces in his absence knowing Legolas wouldn’t wish to remain on board even if he had bound and gagged him on the lowest level with your potato plants. Down you bent to lift and prop Estel on your hip for the leap from the side door onto the ledge the ship hovered a couple feet away to avoid scraping the mountain. The distance was easily leapt and once aside your eyes swept over the city with numbers forming lines to charge up the mountain as you back stepped away from the beam of red light that began to glow brighter in the anger of the being powering the light.

Saruman above against the strain of whatever the light was inflicting upon him continued to channel the thrashing clouds and walls of rain with ample jolts of lightning to fire down upon the dark metal clad creatures that amply acted as perfect targets for each attack. Gandalf however leapt down in a joint agreed act to aid in your defense not knowing how powerful you might be after having heard of little to no magical spurts from you since being freed from your poison by Radagast.

Plumes of ghostly smoke appeared around the whole group and while you clutched Estel close to your side the armed Elf Lords encircled you both in Gandalf’s shift of his staff to have hold of it with both hands. Nine ghostly dark robe and armor clad figures wreathed in shadows and smoke chose their targets and in the split of the group to avoid the backswing of a blade you slipped from the group. While the swings of those you left behind varied between useful in collisions with the blades of the specters or blew right through their phantom bodies that had them then avoid the return attacks. Gandalf however to help Legolas with the approaching duo of black Fell Beasts sent off a beam of light that had his turn from the ship sparing them and granting the Prince time to finish with a second arrow to kill his and notch then release a third that killed the blinded one right away.

Towards the doorway you hurried in a means to simply get in and find a way to get the ring off of Estel’s chest only to squeak in the arrival of a ten foot figure in your path wielding a jagged edged long sword. His fiery eyes beaming in fury on a scarred face between hair pulled back with woven chains and metal bands in matte grey matching his body armor over blood red robes and pants ended in spiked boots. To the drop of the boy from your hip to ease him down behind you so your hands could be free you cast a barrier to block the first of a rapid series of blows. The speed of which found you in a backwards step to the formation of paper cut like slices down your forearms where he hit the bubble like barrier that was barely able to hold back the enchantment laced blade that might as well have cloven you in two for the searing pain each deepening slice it dealt out that began to gradually stain your sleeves.

“Too fast,” you muttered to yourself then in the stolen glance back your way between volleys of arrows to the forces failing to gain footholds on the mountain Tauriel from above granted you a moment’s reprieve in an arrow she fired off that caught the figure in the neck right where his armored chest plate dipped above the collar bone. Rapidly you bent to scoop up Estel in the stagger backwards to rush him and yourself along to at least be able to back your way in should the giant not die. Again to the snap of the arrow your body turned and you nudged Estel back to the doorway panting, “Get inside,” an order the boy obeyed to an extent, remaining near enough to see you in his hide behind the doorframe of the empty dead end walk into the volcano.

“Surrender the child! His blood is mine!” The figure all but roared to the crackle of the arrow shaft left in his neck that burned to ash.

“No,” you said, though how he heard you to the harsh shift of the wind that swept your loose braids across your face in the ready of your hands at your sides to block another barrage you had no idea.

“I see you, Loote-Viirin, once when I drained the lights from the world I stepped over the mangled corpses of those foolish flowers who dared to stop me! Now I will grant you mercy, give me the boy or your body will stain this ground! The blood of Luthien is mine to bathe in!”

“Drained the light, Morgoth?” Under his shadowy face shield his lips turned upwards into a wicked smile at your naming him and to his pause in belief you realized his power and would give in it granted you a chance to glimpse the futile battle your group faced against their nine specters then back to him again. “Older than the sun and just as dense.” That had his smile turn to a snarl, “You’ve never seen my kind before. The answer is no.”

His hand tensed in a ploy to ready the lift of his blade only for an echoing lurch of a groan to leave his chest to the spell you began to chant. You had no armor, no weapons to speak of, and definitely no reflexes to keep up block of his endless blows to what little barrier you could hold. He was unbelievably old, but so were some of your group, but you knew he was there at the beginning of this world by what they had shared, unlike them. So you tried to even the score. Not just older than the Sun and Moon, but the Two Trees and Lamps. Those who had heard the first song and opened their eyes to the first glimpse of stars in the sky were bound by this. Almost like intense gravity the weight of the air, sky, sun and moon forced them down into the dirt. Every move burned in the fight against the inevitable crumble to the ground where you would hold them. It was not fair, rather illegal in most duel circumstances but in this chance you had to bloody the rule book to survive for the punishment afterwards.

Sluggishly still even against the ploy his attacks came, but now slow enough for you to be able to dodge at leas the follow up blow when his hold would swivel and replant to swing again the other way. And while Gandalf unfortunately along with Saruman felt the added weight of this on their powers as well the others markedly regained a footing in their skirmishes and now had the upper hand to hack apart those that dared to face them. Behind you however the cowering child’s eyes dropped from you to the ring that now had lowered an inch from where it had just sat. Each word and line marked the drop a bit more and in his glance up again the drip of the blood stain around the wrinkled elbow of your blouse that only urged the hulking figure on had the boy hold back any distracting shout. He had to destroy the ring, but in a swivel of his head he couldn’t see anything here but the walkway. He couldn’t see what he was meant to do. He only could remember something about the name of this place, Mt Doom.

Another avoided blow by means of a hunch and rushed lunge forward to duck underneath it and your eyes fixed on the specter that in Thranduil’s stab into the face and side of the one who had Legolas pinned to the rock wall meant to attack him from behind. A scribble of a ball of pink lightning like web charm fired out of your palm to encapsulate and drive that specter into the ground convulsing and flickering in its solidity to the effects of the attack disturbing its tries to remain on task. The snap of the ring on the figure’s bony finger however had come with a price to your watch of the body once wearing it wither. Just barely in time your hands came up again and the hard slash of the blade jaggedly sliced hard into the barrier and behind it your forearms cut nearly down to the bone. Sharp and fast you gasped and in a tremble your hands began to lower from the pain.

That gasp however turned not just Tauriel’s head again but the King’s, fresh from the destruction of his own specter in the slice of its ring from its hand two rapid arrows from the ship fired to plant in the back of the Black Foe of the World. No longer counted amongst the Valar but still dubious enough to strike fear into the King’s heart as to the fact his bloody One was alone in facing him. The arrows granted reprieve yet again but burned like the prior. They granted you just enough time to magically bind your forearms that would only grow more bloody with more depth added to the other gashes with the blows that followed while you again recited the same spell to the frantic King’s means to take down the remaining seven foe blocking his way to you.

Again and again you managed to block the spells until in a harsh pant Gandalf’s drop to all fours with staff in the dirt to the sudden relent of the storm signaled the Wizards could fight no more. A bad sign as one of the seven brought up his sword to stab Gandalf the Grey through the shoulders. In another risky sacrifice you fired off another pink encapsulating spell that to Gandalf’s relief took down another that once Elrond had severed the ring on his own was able to step in and shield the downed friend who was in a try to recover some semblance of strength. Morgoth hadn’t given up either, even in a grimacing drop to a knee when his feet could no longer withstand the pressure his body throbbed to succumb to. And your distraction was noted and used to his advantage. Hard and swift as he could muster straight into your thigh a blow landed and the shriek from the painful and startling wound stabbed deeper into the hearts of the battling allies than any blow or wound they themselves had taken.

For those who dared look to your drop backwards with hand planted atop the bloody gash you were seen in a means to scoot backwards by weight on your blood and now dirt stained hand behind you and pushes from your uninjured leg towards the barrier now cast to cover the doorway behind you. Another magical bind was conjured for your leg that freed your hand to block another blow and fire back a yellow energy pulse that blew the stunned giant hard and fast into the wall behind him in a hope to keep him from being able to attack you or anyone else by just getting him on his back. To tears down your cheek two more pink webs were shot off helping the group’s chances even more while against Gandalf’s grimacing groan laced hunch lower to the earth you again recited the same spell that was still buying you time.

Backwards to the barrier you had glanced to see how far you had to drag yourself before a welcomed collapse could be taken until victory was had and you saw Estel, halfway down the ledge dragging the chain with ring glued to the dirt after his notice of a loose stone that melted upon contact with the lava below. It was the only way he could think of to help you and the others and the only reason for him as to why he had to come here. All the way muttering to the Shadow Man who trailed his steps, “I don’t hear you. I don’t see you. You tell lies.”

Firm and fast however the hand on your ankle had you gasp and in just a moment atop you Morgoth loomed with hands once freed now folded around your neck. Still your spell to the tightening of his grip continued in rasps and squeaks for an enraging sight once more glances were taken your way.

Four turned archers now fired openly at the figure who remained fixed over you relishing the steady increase of his strength again to the falter of your voice. Broken free from the group Thranduil with blood red vision before him charged alone to hack whatever parts of the giant off he required to free you. All however oblivious to the boy behind the barrier you held nearly to the end now that the spell had weakened and he could pick up the pace during the unnoticed dip of your right hand into your enchanted bag.

“I warned you, Loote-Viirin” Morgoth crooned to a wicked grin accepting the next volley of arrows into his thighs in a means to weaken his stance, a risk that to the appearance of black dots granted you a fresh gasp of air to the moment of fingers that loosened only to clench in again.

Mistaken useless thwacks of your hands around his sides and chest however in the retraction of your hand from the bag were actually quite useful in the cast of chains that draped and locked in place woven together in their crossing. This star forged chain metal used mainly to support the sails of your ship however came with another handy use when facing shadowy figures such as this one. Hard however the hands pressed more into your neck to the double swords that crashed through the back and out the chest, both dripped droplets of dark blood onto your chest a good foot below and let loose more in the hard drag of those blades down along either side of the spine. Just as sharp the blades retracted from the roaring figure’s writhe in pain upwards in a contorted arch through his body’s means of healing itself, through which Thranduil’s boot collided with his chest to kick him off and away from your coughing self.

To his knees with half focus on the downed giant tearfully Thranduil’s hand cradled your cheek through another sharp gasp for air post pained groan to the stop of reflexive coughs. The moment his eyes met yours you whimpered in your native tongue to the seen forward curl of the giant’s try to get up showing his body was well underway into healing the meant to be fatal blows. “Pollux, I call you,” the squeaking tone had Thranduil’s eyes squint ever so slightly in pain at his lack of understanding for what you might be trying to say to him. The sudden ignition of the star chains that enveloped everyone in a roar inducing brilliant light that at once recharged the Wizards and mildly injured Elven Lords while the armies below cowered through the blast of light that withered the remaining specters the Lords had been battling. “Ascend,” you squeaked next and like a bolt of lightning straight up all that light whipped up after the giant’s body now hurtling up towards the stars where those chains would take him to whatever end may come to the self healing foe.

From an opal like haze of a mist that surrounded you Thranduil’s eyes dripped tears in the return of the blood and dirt stained view of his ethereal One that suddenly had him reach back to tear off his cape he furiously began slicing and binding your trembling arms and thigh to the approach of the slow stepping Lords and freshly risen Gandalf who all peered over their unlikely savior being patched up. It was Elrond however who asked, “Where is Estel?”

His eyes on a swivel until the boy called out from the end of the ledge in a glance back to his foster father, “Do I drop it?!”

Elrond promptly with full view of the small child where his ancestor once stood clutching a stuffed dog standing several feet below the adult form he may yet grow into should he choose the mortal coil several years past this cusp of childhood just beyond his toddler years by their Elvish reckoning, “Drop it.” No sooner than he cried out the words the chain was released and to the dog the boy clung in full view of the ring that fell into the lava as Legolas’ raced to fetch the boy.

To Thranduil’s cradle of you in his arms Elrond helped to guide him towards the ship while Glorfindel collected the remains of his cape and swords abandoned on the ground to race after them back to safety. One by one the distance was leapt and once accounted for the ship was steered away to rise and head for safer airspace away from this dark city. Down below while Legolas kept Estel on deck safe in a circle of guards with a smile to hear his recount of what the Shadow Man had said in a try to stop him a hard pulse heard behind had heads turn and a gust of wind that followed the beginnings of the collapse of the city while the volcano began to erupt had them all relieved at least in the ships coast away that there would be few survivors to mount a revenge attack. Swift and steady to a room they knew to have a bed in it the King carried you where some healing supplies had already been gathered from kits brought from Rivendell upon boarding.

The leg seemed deeper and bled twice as heavy so Elrond began there, unfurling the blood soaked cloth to reveal a lip clenching view of bone between pats of blood from the deep wound. Again from your bag your hand moved and a vial was offered to him that had his blue eyes on it then you to your pained squeak. “Few drops, it’ll heal.”

Glorfindel, “If you have had this, your prior injuries our Healers mended-, is it dangerous?”

“It hurts,” you squeaked out in anticipation of the pain that had their eyes flinch from the tear that escaped down your stained cheek to the cloth clutched in your fist. “You’ll have to hold me down.” You said to Thranduil who fought a shake of his head in the fall of a stray tear of his own.

Celeborn and the twins however readied to do what was needed to heal you while Glorfindel asked you about what he dreaded to hear, “The cloth?”

“Don’t want to scare Estel.”

The lid was unscrewed with the eyedropper filled and held over the wound and to the sloppy bunch of the cloth between your lips you inhaled and gripped the arm that Glorfindel used to hold down your shoulders. Useless almost the cloth proved to be by their enhanced ears in the eruption of a shattered shrill scream of agony from the restrained body that otherwise would be writhing in pain. Through which even Gandalf now with his hand atop your head by means of a try to lull you to sleep could feel the searing scorching pain of a burning sun those three measly drops inflicted upon you.

Three drops and still a slide remained, no deeper than a paper cut Elrond left for his own means of healing and blinked through the tears in his eyes to the recovering pained sobs that had Thranduil hunched over to press his forehead to yours through hushed tears of his own. Down a bit when you gave the nod you were ready for your arms to be treated they slid you to lay your arms over your head. Several gashes were here and after careful mental mapping of his regrettable attack your arms and body were braced for a second longer cry that had everyone fully grown on deck flinch and grimace through whatever means of healing you had to endure for your wounds.

One solid line both arms had scattered drops until the criss crossing shallow slices remained. All on his own Elrond removed the gag once Thranduil rose to the pat of his shoulder and he said, “No more. I can heal these cuts from here.” In a pat of your cheek he felt the pain’s crescendo lulling you to pass out and his voice faded out to his confirmation that sleep was best for you now, “Sleep now. Rest and we will-,” Tearfully he watched your eyes shut and head droop to the side into his hand and there he paused to simply put down the vial that had inflicted more agony than the wounds to be eased that now his work could bring you relief. Again when his eyes opened from a close that allowed a tear to fall down his cheek he turned his head to pat Thranduil’s shoulder, “She is resting. In that we can be easy.”

Thranduil’s eyes scanned over your arms and leg stating something near to unheard of by any outside of a select few Valar and Maiar blooded beings. “She took many blows.”

Gandalf stated, “And was able to bind us to the earth.”

Saruman along the wall stated, “No creature has been capable of that in a great many ages. And then bound the foe, to a star. Tulkas will have many a thing to say on this battle.”

Elrond in the silence that washed over them moved to the tonics and ingredients to crush and whip up a healing cream he laced with Kingsfoil water soaked cloths he laid over the cuts that in removal of your bloodied things by help of a pair of sheets to fold over your chest and hips were washed and bandaged. Timidly from your bag Thranduil found a simple but beautiful mint blouse they helped you into and some clean pants to follow with your socks and boots left aside once a soaked cloth was left to lay across your bruising and swollen neck they nestled you into the bed the King refused to leave. The others took their turns freshening up in your fountain fueled bath nearby the greenhouse while Celeborn went to the top deck to share the news you were physically healed but weary and the destination was now Lothlorien for the closest point of safe harbor until you had woken and regained your strength.

Pt 16

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000

[hopelikethemoon]

moving in (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: moving in  Rating: PG-13 Length: 1900 Warnings: None, aside from angst. Javi POV. Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set “Today” and “Maybe Forever” Summary: Javier moves in. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​

Ever since he left Laredo, Javier had lived alone. 

There had been plenty of women who had crossed through his threshold, but none of them had stayed past the night. And for a long time, that had been fine by him. Until the one woman he wanted to stay hadn’t. 

For a brief three month period after that night, his relationship with his apartment changed. It didn’t feel right to let an interloper into the space — to let someone else lay where she had laid. To see someone else’s hair fanned out across his sheets. 

When the DEA hoodwinked him into fucking another informant for vital and ultimately useless information — he’d convinced her to take him back to hers. Because he didn’t want to tarnish the memory he had preserved in his apartment. For a very fleeting moment he had finally had what he wanted. The woman who had plagued his thoughts for years. 

The reason his apartment no longer felt like home. His furniture remained there, but everything else had been shifted into her apartment. Sure, he had an apartment to keep up the ruse with the DEA — but his home was in an apartment with his girls.

There was no way of knowing if it would last. He wanted it to, desperately, but he was cautious to push his luck. Relationships had never been an area he excelled at and it was the one thing he had to sort out on his feet. Screw the DEA and the demands that came with a pound of flesh — he had all he needed between her and Josie. 

And now they knew. 

Now there was no mystery behind the identity of the father of her baby. The veil had been pulled back, revealing a year's worth of lies that left the director enraged. 

Javier didn’t mind being chewed up and spit out, he lived to be a thorn in the DEA’s side — but he hated how they came down on her. 

“I can unpack for you tomorrow.” She offered quietly as she held the door open as he brought up another load from the Jeep. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Javier worked his jaw as he looked at her. “It’s not fucking fair.” He ground out, leaving a box on the counter. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow. It’s not right that they’re not coming down on us equally.”

“Don’t push it, Javi.” She warned. “I’ve still got my job. It’s just a few days.”

“A few days without pay.”

She shrugged, “It'll be nice to spend a couple days with Josie.”

He narrowed his eyes, hands going to his hips. “It’s bullshit and you know it is.”

“Javi, don’t pull any shit.” She pointed at him. “They’ll up and reassign me and then what?”

“Then I’ll quit and go wherever you are.”

“Javi.”

“You don’t expect me to just fuck off back to my apartment and keep playing this game with the DEA. Do you?” He accused her quietly. He wouldn’t blame her — honestly. “Baby, come on… after the shit they pulled today, I’m not real keen on them.”

She shook her head. “I took this job knowing that this would be the sort of petty shit they’d pull. I’m a woman in a male-dominated field. Don’t screw yourself over to play the chivalry card, Javi. I don’t need a white knight.”

“I’m not—“ Javier shook his head and turned away. “I’m not doing this,” He huffed before he headed out of the apartment to get another load from the car. 

He didn’t want to argue with her. His first evening officially living with her and he had already started a fight with her. Or the beginnings of one. And he wasn’t even trying to play the white knight or whatever bullshit she thought he was trying. He just didn’t care for the way the DEA had handled things. 

Javier was already jaded about them as it was. 

When he returned, she was unloading the milk crate filled with liquor he’d brought in earlier. “So thankful to inherit this lot.” She grinned at him, loosening the top of a whiskey bottle and taking a swig. 

Javier chuckled, lips drawn into an appreciative grin. “C’mere, I want a drink.” He gestured to her and watched the way she put a little sway in her hips. 

She took the top off again and passed it to him. Javier curled his fingers around the bottle, swallowing a mouthful, before he hooked a finger in her belt loop. “What?” 

“I’m just looking out for you, baby.” Javier drawled out. “Like a partner does.”

“Isn’t Chris your partner?”

“I’ll fucking ring his neck if I have to sit through another stakeout with him.” Javier kept his fingers curled around her belt loop as he sat the bottle aside. “I’m talking about you. The only partner aside from Steve that I give a shit about.” He curled his hand around her hip. “You’re a better agent than all of them.”

She shrugged and pursed her lips as she looked up at him, “It’s the curse of being a woman. I will never be a better agent than any of them on paper. They already knocked me back to desk duty when I got pregnant. It’s just three days. I’ll be back.” 

“How long are we going to do this?” Javier questioned, brushing his thumb over the flash of skin that peeked out from above her jeans. “How long are we going to let them lord over our relationship and career?” 

“I don’t know.” She retreated, grabbing the bottle off the counter and took another drink. 

Javier sighed heavily, dragging his fingers through his hair before rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, let me know when you know. I’ll be ready when you’re ready.” The DEA had already taken everything he was willing to give them, maybe more than he was willing to give. But there was so much shit he didn’t know how to tell her about. Even with her, he kept up appearances — everything was status quo. But it wasn’t. He was so fucking tired of asking how high, whenever the DEA told him to jump. 

He wasn’t the man that came to Colombia. He was older now, physically and prematurely. Crushed under the weight of the shit he’d seen, the people he’d killed, the people he’d lost. He had a family now — he had a little girl who he had to think about. He couldn’t run headfirst into a firefight without thinking about what he might lose. 

“Baby,” He reached out and curled his fingers around her forearm, trailing them down until he could brush his thumb over the faint green bruise that was left on her skin from where he’d held her too tightly after Daniel had been shot. “I want to think about the future. You, me, Josie…” 

“I never thought I’d see the day that you’d be thinking about your future.” She said lightly, brushing her fingers over his cheek. “You’ve always been very ‘live for today’.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. The words he wanted to say to her got stuck in the back of his throat. They were words that carried grief and regret. Pain that she had never meant to saddle him with. “I just know it’s with you.”

Her lashes fluttered and her expression sobered. “I know it’s with you too.” She whispered, her hand falling away from his cheek to squeeze his shoulder three times. “If I can, I want to see this through. We’ve started going after the Cali Cartel and I want to see them stopped.” 

“It’s the long game, baby.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “And I don’t see either of us sticking around that long.” He gestured vaguely towards the window. “Is Colombia really where you want to raise Josie?”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself and turned her back to him. “I’m not ready for this conversation, Javi. Not yet.” She glanced back over her shoulder at him, “We just told everyone about us. You’re moving in. Let’s take this one step at a time.”

Javier set his jaw hard and nodded. His eyes flickered towards the boxes that still needed to be unpacked. “Wanna go to bed?” He questioned. 

She nodded slowly, “Yeah. I’m tired.” 

——

By the time the sun was streaming through the bedroom window, Javier was already out of the bed and getting dressed for work. He could hear her and singing to Josie in the kitchen while she worked on breakfast and it made his heart clench in his chest. This was the life he wanted. It was just a little hard to remind himself that it was the life he deserved. 

Javier tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt as he strolled out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. “There’s my girls.” He drawled out, stepping in behind her to press a quick kiss to her cheek, before he moved towards Josie, scooping her out of her carrier. 

“I thought you were going to sleep past your alarm,” She remarked as she sat a plate of biscuits down on the table. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I noticed.” Javier sighed, before he showered Josie with kisses, reveling in the little gurgles and giggles that escaped her. “You okay?”

“Couldn’t shut my brain off last night.” She shrugged a shoulder as she sat down across from him at the table. “I’m sorry about everything…”

“You haven’t got a damn thing to apologize for.” Javier gritted out, before softening his expression as he looked down at Josie. “It’s just three days, right?” He glanced up at her, catching the flicker of emotion she tried to mask. “Baby—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret it. Telling them.” A faint smile played over her lips. “We don’t have to hide what we have anymore.” 

Javier nodded slowly, nestling Josie against his chest as he reached for a biscuit. He tore off a piece, popping it into his mouth. “I’ll try to get off early.”

Her lips parted like she intended to fight him on it, but she thought better of it. “Thank you, Javi. I really am looking forward to spending the whole day with her.” 

“You’re pissed off, aren’t you?”

“So pissed off.” She laughed. “I thought if I slept on it, I wouldn’t be so pissed off, but…” She shook her head. “Those sons of bitches.” She pushed her hair back and huffed. “Putting me in time out for three days like a naughty toddler.” 

Javier smirked a little as he took another bite of his biscuit. “Your mommy was downplaying her feelings last night,” He remarked to Josie as she blinked up at him, watching him eat. “I bet you’re going to hear all sorts of rants today.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she knows you’re one of the few good men out there.” She quipped, smiling fondly at him. He made a face at that. “Don’t argue with me.” She warned. 

He held his free hand up in mock-surrender. “I had no plans to.” Even though he rarely felt like one of the good ones. Hell, even she had waited three months to even tell him she was pregnant because she had been convinced that he wasn’t one of the good ones. Maybe he was getting there, but he wasn’t there yet. 

“Hey, Javi—”

“Hmm?” He looked up from Josie, staring across the table. “What is it baby?”

“I love you.”

His heart still fluttered at those words. “I love you too.” Javier knew he didn’t deserve her love, but he was greedy and he needed it. He needed both of them. This little life he’d managed to carve out of pain and hell was all that he needed.

[heartofstanding]

I posted 11,267 times in 2021

329 posts created (3%)

10938 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 33.2 posts.

I added 7,363 tags in 2021

#art - 2338 posts

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#the divine comedy - 207 posts

#history - 206 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#everytime i get these asks i'm like i have never liked anything except my current fandom and lotr and bad news is my current fandom is lotr

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Often, we talk about women in history as if they’re divided into two camps: well-behaved women and the “bad girls”.

The “well-behaved women” lived within the roles accorded to them by their society and whose lives are poorly evidenced. Thus they have become forgotten, overlooked or dismissed as a mass of unexceptional women who were too much like well, women (too frivolous, stupid, family-orientated, unambitious) to save themselves. They’re the conventional queens, the women who died young or lived in a way that made little distinguishing mark on history, the women who represent the ordinary woman.

The “bad girls (who did it better)” are celebrated as the great heroines of history. You know their names, you love and admire them even if you don’t much about them. Think Hatshepsut, Cleopatra, Boudica, Joan of Arc, Elizabeth I, Eleanor of Aquitaine... they’re exceptional, they stepped outside the boundaries laid down for women and are today celebrated for it.

But this sort of dichotomy does sort of miss out on talking about other women in history. The women who risked it all for love but didn’t seek power. Older women who wielded power or rebelled but are footnotes in history. Communities of women like the beguines. Women who were exceptional in ways that don’t tend to be recognised.

And there’s the “bad women”. Women who are too famous to be ignored but who don’t easily fit into the model of “historical heroine”. They didn’t win and when they lost, their defeat was celebrated. They have too much baggage, their reputations are too tarnished. They’re not wifely or maternal or romantic - they’re just too unwomanly to fit within the narratives we’re comfortable with. Or at least, that’s the dominant image of their lives, it may or may not be true. Attempts to remove the weight of centuries of misogyny, propaganda and more from their backs have failed to penetrate. They’re women like Margaret of Anjou, Isabeau of Bavaria, Eleanor Cobham. Their lives were marked by narratives designed to denigrate them or make them the face of feminine vice or the author of all the ills in their world. And the world still clings to those narratives, the world still believes them to be true.

88 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 20:34:37 GMT

#4

the histories + texts from last night, 7/?

91 notes • Posted 2021-01-08 01:00:50 GMT

#3

See the full post

118 notes • Posted 2021-11-09 20:18:53 GMT

#2

OK, so historical accuracy. Extremely important in historical fiction, right? Sometimes, yeah. It’s something that I like to strive for in my own writing and enjoy in others. But it’s a flawed concept to hold up as a “gold standard”.

behold, my rant

1) what is historical accuracy? Our idea of the past is changing all the time, fuelled by new discoveries, new perspectives, new readings of material. I’ve seen novels dinged for being inaccurate (and done this myself!) when they were written before the stuff that made them inaccurate was discovered.

2) whose historical accuracy is it anyway? Most people have some idea of an historical era and it’s rarely something that matches with what people who actually have read or studied about that era extensively would agree with. What about the popular myths about particular people and eras that aren’t true but people believe them to be true? What about the different sides of a debate in a historical era? A Ricardian has very different views about historical accuracy in fiction about the Wars of the Roses than a non-Ricardian and both sides believe that they have the historically accurate version.

3) whose voices are determining historical accuracy? History is written by the victors, yes - it’s also largely written by an educated white male elite who are writing not necessarily to be an objective record of the time but to impart their own ideas of the world. Marginalised lives are rarely present and when they are, they’re usually held up as curiosities and moral lessons, and denied their own documentary expression.

4) what about absent voices? absent figures? Should we just continue to present an image of the past where queer people don’t exist? POC? Where women are largely silent and removed from the political stage? Why are we replicating the biases of the past? In the absence of evidence, do we turn to modern day statistics to reflect back on the past. I’ve had people tell me that 90% of the modern UK population identify as straight, therefore it’s most likely that any figure in history was straight unless we have evidence pointing in a different direction. There are massive flaws in that argument but it is functionally meaningless as a determination of the “truth”.

5) there is no universal standard of historical accuracy. I’ve seen people saying something is inaccurate when what they really mean is “I don’t agree with the author’s interpretation of evidence” or they don’t know about new evidence or theories. I’ve seen people go “there’s no historical evidence that X happened, therefore it didn’t happen” even if it is a plausible conclusion to draw from the evidence we have. I’ve seen people say that a particular piece of evidence shouldn’t be “stressed” because it's in disagreement with popular (and unevidenced) interpretations of relationships and figures.

6) what about the limitations of evidence and form? someone writing a novel about Alice Perrers either has to go “welp, these chroniclers are all hostile to her and are writing about her in blatantly obvious misogynistic terms but there is no other evidence about her personality so I’m stuck with copying their ideas”  or write contrary to the evidence because these accounts are universally hostile. Movies and plays are often critiqued for compressing events etc. when they need to in order to to watchable or stageable. Writing something from one POV means you miss the other POVs but moving POVs might mean that the focus on the story has significantly changed.

7) what if authors just want to have fun? They read a theory and they don’t think it’s true but it’ll make a good story. Peter Carey's The True History of the Kelly Gang isn’t actually true or even “historically accurate” (and I’m sure he knows it) but it is a good story and that’s why he wrote it

131 notes • Posted 2021-10-06 02:52:14 GMT

#1

I wish people would stop confusing:

fandom and fanfic with history and historical fiction.

pop history and historical fiction with actual history

257 notes • Posted 2021-02-07 02:14:59 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[kosmikowboj]

here’s my contribution to dean’s 42nd birthday party :,) I love him so much and I’m so glad that he got cas back from the empty and they’re celebrating his birthday together good for him honestly

Birthday Bee

[read on AO3]

Dean was not used to a huge to-do on his birthday. 

The most shocking thing that happened to him on the twenty-fourth day of January in the past forty-two years of his life—Jesus, he was getting too old for this hunting shit—was one morning two or so years ago when he had come into the bunker kitchen to find that Sam had made him french toast, topped with whipped cream and strawberries because Heaven forbid his brother dropped the healthy shtick for even one day (the strawberries had actually been delicious, but Sam “all the Whole Foods employees know me by name” Winchester did not need to know that). More common was his brother just got him a birthday card, and even more typical still—and what happened the vast majority of the time—was he just went “happy birthday, Dean” and then they would return to their hunt, or their research to find a hunt. Dean had all thirteen of the cards Sam had given him in a shoebox under his bed, the more recent of them being stock Hallmark cards but a couple being from when they were younger and Sam had stolen restaurant crayons to make his own. There was also one that Cas had made him, done in his messy cursive scrawl the one year he had had the time between killing things and doing weird angel business to make him one.

Cas. 

That’s another thing he wasn’t used to. 

Cas’s return from the Empty had been messy, ultimately ending with his grace in a bottle and the rest of him decidedly human, but for the most part he remained his weird little self. He wore his grace around on a cord like a dog tag, and so long as he had coffee, bagels, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he seemed largely fine with his new mortality, which was something Dean was still struggling to wrap his head around. Technically, they had only needed to remove his grace to get him out of the Empty, and now that he was back on Earth he could probably absorb it again without any consequences if he wanted to. Instead, Cas had just pointed out that he needed to sleep now but had nowhere to do it, which had led to Dean offering up his bed, and that had been that on that. 

That was how Dean had found himself routinely waking up to a snoring not-angel pressed into his shoulder, his arm occasionally looped around his waist as he radiated warmth like some kind of once-divine heater. They never started out that way; Dean would very pointedly start the night out on the left, and Cas on the right, but they always woke up entangled somewhere in the middle. It wasn’t helped by the fact that human-Cas slept like a—well, to say “corpse” would be morbid, but it was the truth. It was pointless trying to hold a conversation with him in the morning unless he had had at least two cups of coffee, and dragging him out of bed to get the coffee was a feat in and of itself. 

This was why there was a new contender for the most shocking thing to happen to Dean on the twenty-fourth day of January: Cas was already out of bed.

If he had been anyone else, his emotions probably would’ve stopped at “shock” and he would’ve just gotten up to go find him like a normal person. But, he was not anyone else, so instead “shock” progressed into “panic” and he grabbed the pistol from his nightstand drawer as he shot to his feet. He had enough clothes on not to offend anyone who might be lurking the halls, so he crept out of his room, following the sound of quiet chatter all the way to the kitchen with the pistol held flush against his hip. 

“Cas, if you want it to be legible, don’t use syrup. It’s not going t—oh. Hi, Dean.”

Sam gave him an awkward smile from where he was standing over Cas and Jack, who appeared to be militantly arranging a plate of pancakes. Or rather, Cas seemed to be militantly arranging a plate of pancakes, carefully adorning them with syrup—Jack was standing next to him holding a can of whipped cream in eager anticipation. 

“We’re not done yet. Shoo,” Cas said without looking up, but Dean could see a grin crinkling his features, so he shoved the pistol into his waistband and leaned against the wall of the entryway.

“Happy birthday Dean!” Jack yelled, taking a fistful of confetti out of his pocket and throwing it up into the air. The confetti that already littered the floor suggested he had been practicing for this moment all morning, and Dean let out a laugh. 

“Pancakes, huh?”

Cas finally stood up and faced him, grinning. He looked...different, but Dean chalked it up to the pancake mix smeared on his nose and dusting his hair. “Yes, though I wouldn’t recommend eating the top one now. Jack got confetti on it.” 

Jack stuck his tongue out at him, turning to the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice. Dean crossed over to where the three were standing by the kitchen island, positioning himself across from them and eyeing the syrupy pancakes as he rested his elbows on the counter. He could vaguely make out what was maybe a “y” near the bottom of the top pancake, but it was even harder to read now that it was flecked with colorful paper bits. 

“What were you trying to write?” he asked, and he started to reach for the pancake underneath the top one before Sam smacked his hand away. 

“Get a fork, man,” he chided, “and let Jack put the whipped cream on first.” Dean rolled his eyes but drew his hand back obediently, fixing his gaze on Cas as he waited for an answer. 

Cas’s face grew red with embarrassment. “I, uh, it’s supposed to say ‘happy birthday.’”

Dean laughed again, trying to hide how fond he was made by the fact that Cas, former Angel of the Lord and self-proclaimed raiser of Dean Winchester from “perdition,” didn’t understand that syrup, by nature, would soak everywhere after it was poured.

“I’m surprised Sam didn’t make you write it out in blueberries or somethin’, the fruit freak.”

Sam, who was mid-process of removing the tarnished top pancake, glowered at him. 

“If you hate fruit so much, I’ll just throw out the apple pie I made then, too.” 

“Hey now, that’s different,” Dean argued, watching as Sam set aside the confettied pancake for when one of them would inevitably scrape off the paper bits and feed it to Miracle, who was sitting patiently at Cas’s feet. Jack took the opportunity to lean forward and eagerly spray the remaining stack with whipped cream, and Sam stuck a candle in the middle. 

“Happy birthday, Dean,” he said, faux-scowl replaced by a genuine smile as he lit the candle. “Here’s to another forty-two years of you being insufferable.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

With his chest feeling lighter than it had in years, Dean went to blow out the candle, but Jack stopped him with a very serious expression on his face.

“You have to make a wish,” he instructed. 

Dean made an exaggerated display of thinking, and then blew out the candle. 

“Well?” Jack prompted eagerly, and Dean chuckled. 

“If I tell you, it isn’t gonna come true,” he pointed out, and Jack pouted at him before deciding that finding the secret box of Lucky Charms Dean had bought for him against Sam’s wishes was a better use of his time. 

As the day progressed beyond breakfast, Dean was finding it harder and harder to hide his disbelief at just how much they had actually done for his birthday. Jack had forced them all into kitschy plastic cowboy hats the moment Dean had finished his pancakes, and then promptly dragged them all down to the Dean Cave where he proceeded to eagerly push presents with paw print wrapping paper into Dean’s hands. The first two had been from Sam, who had gotten him a cookbook—a normal one, thankfully, none of his weird “paleo” nonsense—and a beginner’s guide to guitar, so he could finally “learn to play the one hanging on the wall instead of leaving it untouched forever like some elitist rock and roll asshole.” Cas had gone next, much to Jack’s chagrin, and had gotten him an espresso machine to replace the dingy coffee maker in the kitchen. Dean had pointed out that it seemed more like a gift for himself rather than for him, and Cas had given him a non-committal shrug in response that had earned him a gentle shove. Jack, excited to have finally gotten his turn, had given him a handmade card (technically, they all had, but Jack’s was the only one that had brought him to tears because it said “Happy Birthday, Dad <3” in crayon along the top) and a John Wayne Monopoly set, which had led to hours of intense real estate wars broken only by dinner and pie before Cas was finally declared the winner. 

Apparently, there had been plans for a movie and popcorn, too, but after their long and tedious game of Monopoly they had all agreed to just go to bed, so Dean now found himself heading back to his bedroom, tailed by Cas. He was chattering on about how Cas had definitely cheated, and even if he hadn’t how dare he not let him win on his birthday, when he entered the room and stopped. A small box, wrapped neatly in the same paw print wrapping paper and topped by a small blue bow, sat innocently in the middle of the bed. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked back at Cas. 

“You know I hate surprises,” he warned jokingly. Cas rolled his eyes and brushed past him wordlessly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and patting the spot next to him. Dean took it, a small, bemused smile playing at his lips as Cas gingerly set the gift in his hands. 

“What could be so outlandish that it had to wait until after the other two went to bed?” he asked, pulling on the ribbon. 

“If you would stop jabbering and open it, you might find out,” Cas teased, bumping his shoulder. It was Dean’s turn for an eye roll, and he pulled back the wrapping to reveal a nondescript cardboard box. It felt warm in his hands, familiar, and he suddenly realized what had been bugging him about Cas earlier. 

“Cas,” he exhaled quietly, fingers hovering on the box flap as he met Cas’s eyes. The warm blues were peering back at him with the same intensity as always, rocking seas focused on him and him alone. “I can’t accept this.” 

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” Cas argued, still holding his gaze. Dean looked down at the box in his hands, speechless. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the faintest outline of blue peeking through the opening he had made by anxiously thumbing at the lid. He folded the top of the box back, swallowing thickly. Settled atop the neatly-coiled cord it was tied to, and pulsing softly with otherworldly blue flame, was the small glass vial that had hung around Cas’s neck ever since he had come back from the Empty. 

“I don’t—Cas I can’t.”

With one hand, Cas reached over and pulled the bottle of his grace from the box by the cord. With the other, he took Dean’s hand and unfolded his fingers, revealing his palm. He placed the vial there, tenderly pressing Dean’s fingers back over so that they were holding the glass capsule. 

“It’s a gift. I’ve been told you’re supposed to keep those.” 

Dean looked up again and found Cas watching him with that same irrevocable fondness he had worn like a badge pretty much every day since he had returned. It made Dean’s breath catch, and he attempted a small laugh to offset how small he felt. 

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” 

He dipped his head down, guiding the cord over and onto his neck. The vial fell against his chest with a quiet thud, and a small jolt ran through him at the contact. He cupped it with his palm, feeling the warmth emanating from it like a comforting hug. 

“I’m still allowed to ask why,” he said then, voice hoarse and more than slightly choked as he watched vibrant indigos and cornflower blues swirl lazily against the glass. 

“Because I love you,” Cas answered, tone matter-of-fact like it was the most natural and obvious thing in the entire world, “and I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere.” 

And that. 

That was the kicker. 

Dean’s head fell forward into Cas’s shoulder, and he took in a shuddering breath as he repeated the sentence in his head over and over. 

I’m not going anywhere. 

In the months since Cas’s return, Dean had yet to return the three words that had saved his life, and he knew it was unfair of him but he had been terrified that if he admitted his feelings aloud everything would slip between his fingers again, the final cruel joke by a malevolent god that had realized the only way to break him was to give him hope that it might really all be over before crushing it beneath his boot. 

I’m not going anywhere.

Cas’s hand was in his hair, carding his fingers through it like he so often did now, and Dean felt him kiss the top of his head. Seeing opportunity, Dean pulled back, and before nerves could get the better of him he frowned and said, “You missed.” 

“What?” Cas was giving him a funny look, but Dean knew Cas wasn’t stupid. He could see the blatant recognition in the wide ocean eyes looking back at him, almost daring him to finish the thought.

“I said,” Dean repeated, and he leaned forward to press a very quick, very “first teenage romance” kiss to Cas’s lips. “You missed.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and Dean was starting to panic that he had just fucked the whole thing up when Cas gave him a cheeky grin.

“Apologies,” Cas said. “You’ll have to let me try again.”

He grabbed Dean’s jaw with delicate hands and pulled him back towards him, kissing him with a loving tenderness that almost made him cry. He cupped Cas’s face in return, hands sliding back into his hair as he kissed him fervently, and almost broke away as laughter bubbled to his lips at the fact that kissing Cas was giving him genuine fuckin’ butterflies. 

“I love you,” Dean said suddenly, opening his eyes so he could watch Cas as he said it. “I love you so much, Cas.”

“I know,” Cas replied, giving him that dumb grin again. Smartass, Dean thought fondly, and he shifted so his arms were wrapped around Cas’s waist in a loose hug as he pressed into his angel’s shoulder again. “Happy birthday, honeybee.” 

Dean blushed furiously into Cas’s jacket, about to tell him off for being so sappy when Cas suddenly asked, “Did you actually wish for anything, or were you just entertaining Jack?” 

“I did,” Dean answered. “It just came true.”

[gunsmoke-snakeoil]

At the Rivers Edge Pt. 3

Arthur X Female!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Arthur comes into camp with a familiar dark air about him that leaves you hurting in his stead. Being one of the few who know him well enough to read his body language, you do everything to keep his mind off of the one and only Mary Linton

Hello everyone! Here it is! The final part to this story! It has been a crazy ride and I cannot thank you guys enough for all of the love and followers!! To think I was a little blog before this and now I have so many supporters! I feel so blessed! I have officially opened my ask box as well, so if any of you have any ideas, throw them in there and I will do the best I can to produce what you want to see! Thank you all for being so patient, I hope you enjoy the last of At the River's Edge. ~K

You spent that night thinking about that picture of Mary. You at first worried that you had slapped it down like that, and he had yet to notice. However that theory fizzled, because you knew you had seen her soft features through blurry tears before pulling yourself away. Your thoughts shifted to his smile, and the way those blue eyes sparkled as you sat across from him. They were clear and warm, delicately holding you, and stealing away your breath when he laughed.

Your heart tightened, making those butterflies flutter against the walls of your stomach. The heat of your room made you all the more uncomfortable. You untangled the itchy wool covers from your limbs and swung your legs over to hit the wood floor. The wood was warm and a little damp from the moisture that permanently hung in the air. You stood, running fingers through your hair, nails scratching your scalp.

You felt ridiculous as you quietly moved around the creaky house; like a lovesick teenager hopelessly in love with someone who wouldn't ever feel the same. You climbed the stairs, the top one screaming as you deposited your weight. Your body tightened, eyes wrenching shut as you waited to hear someone stir. When a quiet string of snores and heavy breathing came to your straining ears, you proceeded to the door that lead to the back balcony. When your fingertips danced against the tarnished brass handle, you stopped, and glanced at Arthur's door. You imagined him, tangled in wool blankets. The stress in his face relaxed fully, and his usual tough gaze nothing but a gentle pool of calmness as hot breath passed gently through loose lips. You opened the door, quietly stepping onto the balcony and gingerly shut the door behind yourself. You took maybe two steps before plopping yourself down on the floor.

The stars above glistened, scattering against it's midnight blue background. Hues of gold followed the stars in a thick line; as if the Lord himself cut open the sky to reveal the beauty a clear night had.

"Little late for star gazin' don't you think?"

You jumped, your soul nearly leaving your body. Arthur was leaning against the railing on the farthest side of the house. There was a strike of a match, and a small flame broke through the darkness, revealing his face and a cigarette dangling from between his lips. Bringing the lick of light to the cylinder, he sucked it crackling the paper casing. He smirked at your wide eyes before he shook the flame from his match.

"I could asking you the same." You huffed, the ashes at the end of his cigarette glowing brightly as he breathed in.

"Fair enough," he sighed before pushing off the railing and pacing towards you, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls and trees. He crouched down beside you, before sitting down. "How the hell you sit like this and be comfortable," he groaned, glancing at your crossed legs.

"Cause I ain't nearly as old as you," you bumped his arm with your elbow making him sigh a chuckle.

"Fair enough." He shook his head before taking another long drag. He offered you the cigarette, and politely you took it taking a drag yourself. "Tell me, Miss (Y/N)," he gently took it back from you and rested the arm holding the cigarette on his knee. "What keeps you up?"

Laying your head back, you glanced up at the stars. You wanted to tell him, desperately you did. You wanted to ask him about the picture of Mary, and the way he smiled at you when you gave him the stew that evening. But right as the words surfaced your lips, you drew back; snapping before any sound could leave your mouth. Why the hell was this so hard?

"Hosea's snoring real loud again." You opted, crossing your arms close to your chest. Arthur shook his head, another light chuckle just barely passing through his lips.

"Yeah, well I lucked out there."

"I know, sitting pretty on the second floor. Must be nice."

Nodding, he took another drag. "I ain't so sure about pretty.. it just means Dutch likes me more then you."

You gasped, shoving him lightly, "I bet I can get him to admit otherwise."

He laughed, "I'd like to see you try."

A comfortable silence filled between the two of you as you drank in the stars again. You noticed the sky reflecting off the stagnant water surrounding the house, painting the eerie green in gorgeous gold's, speckled with the shimmery silver stars.  "Why are you up?" You finally spoke up, your voice merely a whisper.

He bowed his head, gears visibly turning as his mouth opened slightly, before snapping shut. He rubbed his eyes while finishing the last of his cigarette "To much on my mind I suppose." He flicked the butt onto the wood and smashed it with his boot. He twisted his leg, before kicking the ashes off the balcony and letting them float through the air.

"You want to talk about it?"

He scratched his stubble before leaning back, his bicep brushing yours. "Ain't nothin’ to be concerned over."

By the long silence drawn up before he admitted that, you knew it were the exact opposite. Before you could get so far into your own thoughts again, Arthur spoke out;"I guess I can see the beauty in this place." He muttered, drawing your eyes back to him.

"It's nicer without the fog. Also, I'm still not happy about that shit you pulled."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh "You yelled so loud that I'm pretty sure your sweetheart Shamus at Emerald Ranch heard you."

You squealed, giving Arthur a shove. "You are awful! It ain't my fault he took a liking to me! Hosea set me up like that!"

"Oh yeah," Arthur wheezed, "blame the old man for your wandering eyes."

"Oh I swear you enjoy giving me a hard time don't you?" You raised your voice making him laugh even harder.

"Would the two of you shut up out there?" John's muffled voice came from the room over making both you and Arthur go wide eyed. "Some of us are trying to sleep!" You stifled a laugh as Arthur sighed playfully shoving you.

You spent the next morning quietly smiling to yourself, last night ending in hushed laughter and gentle teases. The sun warmed your back as you sat at the table facing the house with your feet up; heels just resting on the corner. Bill slept across from you, a beer still held tightly in his hand. Snores and drunken mumbles slipped past his lips as he shifted slightly. You pulled your Cattleman's Revolver from it's holster and oiled up a dingy stained white piece of fabric. Carefully you graced the oil onto the black metal, cleaning up any dirt or moisture that would cause it to rust.

You had noticed Arthur moving through the camp with a cup of coffee held in his hand. He gave a small wave to Mary Beth who rested in the shade of a tree, a book tucked in her hands. "You did a good job with that stew last night Pearson." Arthur sipped at his coffee while glancing at you, a smirk resting faintly on his lips. He leaned back against the worktable where Pearson prepared the stew.

"Well that's very kind of you Mr. Morgan. That's how we did it in the Navy-" Pearson chopped the head off of a dead duck, dumping it into a pale to his right. Arthur winked at you, warming your cheeks and gracing a smile to your face. "Speaking of food Mr. Morgan, we are getting low. We maybe have enough for the next couple days." Arthur nodded, taking another sip from his coffee. "Will you bring me some good meat? Something I can actually cook with?"

Arthur pushed himself up from the workbench "sure," he drawled. "You think you'll last maybe three days?"

"Thank you Mr. Morgan, I think I can manage for that long." Pearson pulled a second duck up onto the work bench and began to pluck it.

"Good. I'll get our best hunter then. (Y/N)," he slowly walked towards you downing the remainder of his coffee. "Care to join me on a hunting trip?" You rubbed the cylinder of your revolver generously.

"That all depends, we hunting in the swamps again?" You questioned, focusing on a small spot that stuck out against it's black backdrop. "Cause I'd love for you to get stuck in some muck again."

He huffed while looking out at the camp. "Sure, I'd be sure to toss you in the nastiest batch of swamp muck out there. Your turn to lose a pair of boots." Finally the spot came up and your eyes met his. "I was thinking more out west, but if you can handle another night in the swamps-"

"West sounds good," you responded quickly. His eyes held that playful look as you stood, sliding the freshly cleaned weapon back in it's proper holster, "West sounds great actually."

By mid afternoon, you were fastening the last of your supplies to the horses. Arthur tossed you a leather bag filled with food for the horses and you tied it carefully to the saddle while praising Zeus for his patience and strength. Within ten minutes you were both out on the road. The excitement of having a long trip towards familiarity made your heart race. Especially with Arthur riding by your side.

The air felt lighter when you made it to the open fields of the Heartlands. a cool breeze from the mountains brushed passed you, fighting the raging heat left on your cheeks. The sun was beginning to make it's slow descent, casting it's usual brilliants hues of gold's and oranges. To say you missed being out on the open range wouldn't even cover the emotion you felt when you traveled up the Dakota River.

It wasn't until you made it to Diablo Ridge just on the edge of West Elizabeth when Arthur had the two of you stop. "Here's a nice place." He dismounted, and began the camp set up. You also climbed down after him, and stepped to the edge of the ridge. The sun bled generously into the valley below, drenching it in warm light. The snowbanks cupped in the peaks and dips of Mount Hagen had a glow, magnifying the majesty the mountain range held. Another breeze rushed through the creaking pines, closing your eyes you inhaled deeply; drinking all of it in.

"So you planning on having me do all of this by myself?" Arthur asked waking you from the small trance you seemed to be under. You looked back, watching as he began to stack some sticks.

"Thought that's why you were here." You grinned, crossing your arms  over your chest; the breeze bringing goosebumps to your skin.

"That's cute," he grumbled taking your bed roll from Zeus. Turning, you stepped away from the edge. "In that case," he mumbled as he freed it from the straps. He rolled the wool fabric in his hands before glancing back at you. He turned and chucked the roll into the brush about two yards from camp  "you can sleep over there."

You couldn't help but laugh as he turned back around. "Why you gotta be so grumpy." His serious face shifted with amusement as you shuffled towards the brush and gathered your bed roll. A sly smirk worked it's way onto your face as you scooped the unraveled mess into your arms and shook it out. Pine needles and pine cones fell free from the crumpled cloth. Then an idea sparked in your mind, as you bent down and rolled one of the large pine cones in your hands.

Smiling, you grabbed several more, tucking them deep in the folds of your bedroll and you walked back to the fire that Arthur had started. He tossed some dried branches inside the flames, making it crackle. Taking a deep breath, you watched as he looked up with a grin. Giving him innocent eyes, you cradled the pine cones in your bag keeping them from his view. "Planning on holding that all night?"

"Maybe, you may throw it off the cliff and make me go grab it." Standing he huffed out a hushed laugh, before grabbing his tent off of his horse.

"Maybe I will, but with you in it." His voice playfully jabbed, his back was to you now as he pulled the stakes from a saddle bag, followed by a mallet. He sat them on the ground and pulled out the sheet of canvas. He stood unraveling it, your  lingering eyes wandered down to the bundle of pine cones again. A spark of excitement coursed through your limbs as you picked one up, running gentle fingers against the prickles. You drew your hand back behind you, before throwing the pine cone and bouncing it off of his strong back muscles. When he whipped around to look at you, your eyes darted, lips pulling into a tight line to keep yourself from laughing.

"What?" You asked, playing coy as he knelt down and picked up the pine cone.

"Don't be a fool, you think I'm to believe it fell from the sky?" Those blue eyes sparked causing heat to course through your body like a spout of wildfire. You fought hard to keep the smile off your face as you shrugged.

You bit back laughter as he rolled the ball of spines in his hand. "Well, I didn't do it so-" his eyebrow rose, and immediately you cracked flashing your smile. And he tossed that pine cone right back, distinctively you threw your arms up to block your face, spilling the stash you created.

"You planning on ambushin' me?" He chortled grabbing one that rolled towards his boots. You squeaked as you gathered up a pine cone and weakly throwing it and missing, sending it far over the edge. "Some outlaw you make! You have terrible aim!" He teased tossing another pine cone at you and bouncing it off your head. You could hardly see, laughter rippling through your body, causing tears to pool in your eyes. You rolled over before gathering more and tossing them in a hopeless attempt to hit him. Standing you gathered more, and the two of you tossed whatever you had in your bedroll.

The two of you tore through the camp searching for any remaining pine cones. Laughter echoed off the walls of the valley, scaring any wildlife for miles. It seemed like every weight pressed to your shoulders had been shoved off. And when Arthur bent down and grabbed what seemed to be the last pine cone resting gently by the canvas of his tent, you darted to him and tried to pry it from his hands. Being a whole head taller then you, he held it up high above both of your heads. You held onto his shoulder trying to use his larger frame as leverage while you jumped trying so hard to seal away the last of the ammunition. "Give it to me Morgan!" You pleaded, fingers tangling tightly in his cotton button down. Your futile attempts knocking the hat off his head, sending it rolling off his back and onto the ground a foot behind him.

"You got the first throw, I ain't lettin' you get the last," he protested holding it up higher making you laugh. "You are out of control!" He teased resting a hand on the small of your back to try and keep you cemented to the ground. You gave one last shot, jumping up and wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You were finally high enough to smack the cone from his and send it flying towards the edge. Both pairs of eyes followed as it rolled, spiraling until it teetered and tumbled over the edge. There was a moment of silence, as the two of you stared at what was the last of the pine cones.

It took a moment until the heat of his body seeped into your own, the touch of his hand on your back holding fire as if lightning struck. Your chest pressed to his, felt tight. You could feel your heart ripple it's strong beats through your ears. And that's when he met your eyes. Slowly you sunk back on flat feet, arm draped over his shoulders and the other hand delicately rested on his chest. And those eyes. They held flecks of green, cradled tightly in the ripples of blue. You never noticed the green in them before, it was faint, but it was beyond anything you've ever witnessed. And they held that unfamiliar sparkle, that gaze that you've noticed more of, had completely washed over him. You noticed those eyes leave yours for a second, gazing at your lips before locking on once more. 

Then something flashed in those eyes, red cheeks burned as he pulled away while clearing his throat in a rumble of embarrassment. You stood there, blinking, frozen in your spot. Muscles that wished to pick up and move on stood as if  they were weaved to the dry soil. He scooped his hat off the ground, "sorry," he mumbled fastening the leather to his head as he pulled the canvas off the ground and configured it. You wanted to speak, and ask why he pulled away but something held you back and you cleared your own throat. "Pull out your tent, I'll help you set it up, it's getting dark." He motioned to the darkening sky. You nodded, swallowing deeply while gathering your own things. "and no more distractions, you've cause enough trouble." You heard the smile in his voice, making those heated cheeks of yours burn even more.

The night was spent as if that moment wasn't anything more then a dream. He discussed, map laid out on the ground, where the best spots were. In the flickering light of the fire, he marked out your route. In the morning you'd head north west up to Little Creek River, in the valley between Mount Hagen and Mount Shann.

He folded the map and put it in his satchel. "We oughta turn in, we will be up before dawn." He ran a hand down his face as you sipped at a bottle of beer. You hummed, setting it down in the grass. "Now you will get up when I call won't you?" He asked, finishing the rest of his own drink.

"Yes, what makes you think I won't." The light of the flames reflected off his warmed cheeks.

"Last time you refused to get up," the corner's of his mouth twitched upward as your own warped into a partial scowl that desperately wished to flip into a smile.

"Maybe that was cause of some fool who kept me up till the ass crack of dawn! Brushin' me with sticks and shit!" You shouted, a laugh bubbling over the serious look you tried to hold. He shook his head while standing, a small air of laughter rumbling in his chest.

"I got no idea what you're spoutin'" he stood, groaning as the subtle ache his limbs had.

"Yeah, sure." You mumbled into the lips of your bottle. You saw him smile, and bow his head.

"Goodnight, (Y/N). Hopefully no forest creatures come grab you tonight." He turned towards his tent.

"I hope they drag you into the fire." You smirked into your bottle, his laughter just barely surfaced your ears as he disappeared behind the canvas flaps. Now you sat alone, the fire snapping and popping; the flames flickering and wheezing as you finished the rest of the beer. The stars that stretched above reminded you of the night prior, smoking on the balcony, dreaming of what it felt like to be held by him. Now you knew, and the dream couldn't hold a light to the real thing.

You downed the rest of the drink before moving to your tent that he set up across from his. And to the sound of the crickets and the remnants of warmth where he held you, you fell into a much needed sleep.

Like clockwork, an hour and a half before dawn Arthur called for you. You stirred a moment, eyes fluttering trying to gather in the situation before anything sunk in. He called your name a second time when you didn't respond, and you grunted as you gathered yourself, combed your hair and exited the tent.

He was crouched at the fire, pouring you a cup of coffee from the metal pot. He offered the hot coffee to you, and gratefully you took it and plopped down to cautiously drink it. He then opened a can of sweet peaches and handed them to you, prompting you to eat. After you ate, you felt the coffee kick in when you loaded up Zeus and mounted him. Just shy of twenty minutes you both set off at a slow pace to the spot he had mentioned the night before.

You hitched the horses just on the edge of the woods, the field of flowers and the small creek visible just passed the trees. Arthur fastened his rolling block rifle, while you sported the compound bow and quiver. He grinned at you as you both trekked through the forest. You thought it was funny that you were the one doing the real hunting. It was your gift, Arthur always said. You were good with a bow, and he believed he was hardly worth the loss of arrows. But where he lacked, he made up for with a little gun smoke. He claimed that he was the guard, always carrying a high powered rifle in case of any predators that wished to hunt you for a change.

You moved about 200 yards from your mounts and bedded down in some brush. Arthur made sure you were settled before settling to your right where you could only see him if he moved. You waited with baited breath for the sun to rise and when it did, the purple flowers sang against the pinks and gold's that flooded generously through. Birds began to wake up, and squirrels danced and played against the trees.

About an hour or so after dawn broke; to your left, you noticed a flickering of a white ear. Turning slowly, you pulled an arrow from your quiver. The buck was broad, wide in the shoulders with an extensive rack. You felt your heart clench as you  readied the arrow, placing it on the notch just above the handle. The buck was too far left, and turning fully towards him would scare him. So you waited watching him as he grazed. Eventually he got spooked by a squirrel tumbling from a tree. He pranced off into the farthest end of the valley, out of your view completely. The rest of the morning felt like a loss, and Arthur had you reconvene at the horses to eat.

Arthur teased you for the loss, and of course you playfully poked at him back, while stretching out and giving Zeus a pet. That's when you noticed the painfully dark clouds growing from the West. They were heavy, shedding a dark shadow over the brightly lit valley. You pointed, gaining Arthur's attention. He looked up from his canned corn and gazed through the tree branches.

"Whatta want to do?" Arthur looked back, as you peeled a piece of your bread chunk and held it to your lips.

"Looks bad." You mumbled against the food before placing it on your tongue.

"Say we have a half hour till it hits." Arthur estimated, finishing his corn. "It also may blow over. Whatta think? Head back?" Your logic wished to agree and mount your horse and head towards camp. But another piece of you screamed no. You weren't sure why. The darkness of the clouds were enough to prompt anything to go in, but you, no you had faith.

"I say we sit it out. If the wind picks up, it's no go but it could blow right over." He didn't complain as you wiped your hands on your pants and gathered your things to head back out.

You hardly made it to the spot when the wind picked up. You demanded, through a series of gestures that you wait. But just as he understood the variation of hand gestures, you felt a raindrop smack the brim of your hat. It trickled for a moment; but as the clouds grew rapidly closer, the rain grew heavier. And in moments you found yourself in the pouring rain. Arthur called it before you could even process the fact that the beautiful bright valley now vibrated from the heavy rain. The two of you ran to the horses, you both holding onto your hats as the wind whipped through the trees.

Quickly you mounted and blindly through the rain, followed Arthur as he raced at the edge of the treeline. Lighting flashed and seconds after thunder shook the ground scaring Zeus. He bucked you off forcing you to the ground. You felt the impact, your bones rattling. You gritted your teeth, the wind was knocked from your lungs as you laid in the mud gasping for air. Water pelted you in the face, pooling in your lips and eyes. You heard Arthur's voice followed by the sound of hooves. You couldn't tell what he said at first as you shuffled to your feet. Then two strong hands grabbed you, hoisting you up onto a horse. Then you felt Arthur get on. "You alright?" He shouted over the crashing rain.

"Unfortunately!" You yelled back, wrapping your shivering arms around his middle. "where's Zeus?" You asked, as Arthur clicked his tongue and his horse broke into a gallop.

"He's fine, we need to get to shelter." He stated over the downpour. In what felt like moments, he stopped at a barn. In front of it was a white farm house, far enough away to where the occupiers wouldn't notice a pair of strangers take refuge. Arthur helped you down and opened the large back door enough for you to squeeze in. He followed after before sliding it shut.

You rung out your hair, water dribbling from the ends and pooling in the dry straw beneath you. "You sure you're okay?" Arthur asked taking his hat off and tossing it on a bale of hay.

"Yeah." You breathed wiping the moisture from your face. "And you?"

"Fine." He huffed shaking his hands out. He paced the barn, looking for any people. When there wasn't anything besides some cattle and a horse, he grabbed a saddle blanket that was draped over a stall door and gave it a good shake. He gently draped it over your shivering shoulders and made sure you had a hold on it. You thanked him quietly as he took a seat near a glass window to watch the storm.

"Sorry I got us stuck in that mess." The rough fiber from the saddle blanket scratched your skin, but brought some warmth to your soaked bones.

"Ain't no predicting a storm, although next time I oughta call the shots." He smirked watching as you took a seat beside his hat.

"I had a good feeling about it." You breathed, looking up at the dark ceiling. "But I suppose you're right." You sighed, picking his hat up and drying it with the edges of the saddle blanket. After a while, you stood, draping the blanket on the stall by the white Shire. It hardly paid you any mind, as you paced the lengths of the barn looking at the traps and implements stored either in the corners or on the walls. Arthur sat suspiciously quiet, his eyes hardly leaving the window.

"Well," you paced towards the doors where you entered. You heard him sigh, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Feelin' hungry?" You asked digging through your satchel. "I have pineapple and cherries. Which do you fancy?"

He stood, looking at you with an intent, but that intent was foggy to you. Before you could say anything, he closed the gap between you. Pressing his lips to your own. You stood in shock, at first you were rigid and confused. But slowly you melted, stepping closer to him. Although questions fumbled through your mind, you didn't dare break up what was happening. And slowly you leaned into him. His lips were rough, yet warm despite the chilling dampness that seemed to coat everything in Big Valley. "Didn't realize you liked fruit that much," you mumbled against his lips. He chuckled, pulling you flush to him, his hands running gently up your sides, thumbs tracing the curve of your ribs. Your own traveled the length of his upper body, forearms resting on his broad shoulders. Loosely you tangled your fingers together dangling against his upper back. He pulled away after a long moment, red rushing to his cheeks.

Those eyes of his were bright. Lit up with what you now concluded was love. "I'm sorry-" he started.

"Why?" You wanted to draw him back in as you felt him pull away.

"I've been a fool (Y/N)." He sighed, his arms slipping from around your damp body. He watched your eyes, waiting for you to reject him. But the questioning gaze you held never left. "Well... I guess- I-" he rubbed the back of his neck. He gave a heavy sigh, "I don't know what I was thinkin'... I guess I thought Mary had it all... but after our talk, I realized she never makes me feel the way I feel when I'm with you.. I guess what I'm tryin' to say is... I realized I was lovesick for the wrong person all along." You felt your heart skip and, your stomach seize. "I feel like with you, I can be myself. I don't have to pretend nothin'. " He bore holes into the floor near your feet. "If you ain't interested, I understand... I just feel alive when I'm around you. And I guess that's somethin' I want... well..." again he sighed meeting your eyes.

"I feel the same Arthur. I felt the same for years." You stepped closer to him, taking his face in your hand. He leaned into your touch, watching your eyes flickering in between the two of his. "I aint leavin' you, no matter how mucky this all gets. You have my word."

He smiled before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his abdomen. "Last time I trusted your word, I got drenched." He playfully smiled as you pressed your forehead to his.

"Then I guess you can't really trust me then can you?" You ran your fingers through his hair, your arms draping over his shoulders again.

"I guess not Sweetheart." He hummed as you dipped down, catching his lips again.

The swamp air felt soupy as you entered into camp late evening on the third day. Arthur helped you lug the food to the table, gaining a series of compliments from the camp members at the amount of food you hunted. Late evening bled into early night, and everyone gathered around the fire. Music played and people sang and told stories. Arthur drank a beer, as you sat beside him listening to Uncle spout out a story that you and the other members had a hard time believing. You felt a wave of content flood your mind, and wash over your limbs. You laid your head on Arthur's shoulder and he smiled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and whispered into your hair, "I love you (Y/ N)."

[ythmir-writes]

may I request soft + lucifer?

fandom: Obey Me!

feat: Lucifer

no warnings!

A/N: and thank you for requesting him! my first Obey Me fic is for my bestest boi, so i am v happy ﾟ*｡(･∀･)ﾟ*｡

Soft

Lucifer entered the study and was not surprised to find Kita poring over their mountain of notes, muttering something under their breath. From the way their forefinger was repeatedly going over a line, it seemed they were intent to memorize a certain passage before turning the page.

He closed the door and kept his gaze on them as they continued to mutter, closing their eyes as their fingers began tapping on the table to help with some rhythm or other. Twice, they blew out a breath in frustration. And then they nearly swore, grabbed the book in both hands and looked for all intents and purposes, as if they were scolding it for being utterly confusing and hard to remember.

Lucifer nodded to himself. This was good.

He was pleased to see that Kita was taking the RAD midterms very seriously and he took satisfaction in knowing that they had taken his warnings of torture and hellfire, should they fail, to heart. Everyone should take his warnings to heart; it would save him all the trouble.

But as Kita carried on, Lucifer found that he was somewhat displeased all the same.

Kita had not noticed Lucifer enter study, nor did they turn their head to where he stood, continuing only to stare at the book in front of them.

Lucifer had half a mind to call out to them. How long had it been since they started studying now? Perhaps it would be best for them to pause and take a break?

But he hesitated, remaining by the door with Kita’s name and the words he wanted to say only half-formed on his tongue. Because reaching out would mean distracting Kita from what he had told them to do. He disliked the idea of pulling them away from what looked like a good flow in their work, and consequently opening himself to the possibility that he would be used as an excuse to discontinue any studying.

Besides, did he not himself disliked the idea of being interrupted whenever he was busy? Did he not go to great pains to make sure none of his brothers would make a mess when he needed to concentrate?

And yet.

It would seem that Lucifer disliked the idea of remaining unnoticed more.

So what exactly was he hesitating for? Surely, it was only a matter of calling Kita’s attention now, wasn’t it?

Lucifer took a deep breath, slightly unnerved that his thoughts would wander about before he could make a decision – but before he could even call to Kita, they had startled, turned their head, and looked at him.

“Oh, Lucifer.” Kita said, putting down the book. “I didn’t notice you there.”

“Yes.” Lucifer said, tone even, biting down the words you didn’t as he collected himself and ignored how now he was certain he very much disliked what he had just experienced and heard. But there was no sense in letting Kita know, much less any sense in allowing his mind to drag the issue further.

“I happened to pass by and saw the lights were open. You’re hard at work.”

“Yeah.” Kita repressed a sigh. “I’m in a bit of a rut, though. Hell has extensive history and I am trying very hard to memorize these names but it’s all just…” They trailed off, made a face that was almost one of distaste.

Lucifer waited for them to continue, using the silence to bridge the gap between them. When Kita only angled their head at him, Lucifer shook his in understanding.

“It bored you, didn’t it?”

“Not exactly…”

Lucifer almost snorted. “Trying to lie to a Demon, now?”

“Okay, fine.” Kita raised their hands. “But I was not bored, you know, exactly. I just felt it was all very monotonous.”

Lucifer quirked a brow.

Kita continued at his prompting. “I had thought that Hell’s rulers would have had more experiences that involved war and killing. You know, backstabbing and drama and mayhem! Instead, Hell’s history has been nothing but boring procedure and inheritance and deciding if a cousin or two could rule some lower province!”

“We are Demons.” Lucifer said. “Not uncultured savages.”

“I didn’t say that and you know I don’t mean it that way.” Kita rolled their eyes in mock exasperation, waved their hand at the book. “But this is all just so uninspiring and plain. If I wanted to know about Diavolo’s lineage and how much pedigree he has, I should be reading it from a very fancy and very elaborate Family Book. Not a book entitled History of Hell: In-depth Analysis of Important Historical Events.”

“That’s fair.” Lucifer chuckled. He’d had the same thoughts with the class then. “You better make extra effort then. I’ve heard that test is particularly tricky.”

Kita groaned into their hands.

“And you better not fail.” Lucifer reminded them.

“Sure. Your murderous pep talk last night at the House is a great motivator. Keeps replaying in my head how anything that will tarnish the name of the Great Lord Diavolo deserves only pain.” But Kita did not sound enthused.

“Punishment is the best motivator.”

Kita lifted their face from their hands. “Must it always be about punishment –”

“We are literally in Hell.”

“ – can’t I simply want to be a good exchange student and make you proud?”

Lucifer raised a brow and snipped away the tendrils of warmth that threatened to wrap around what little remained of his heart. He could not help but repeat what Kita had just said in disbelief. “You want me to be proud of you?”

“Humans can be very competitive!” Kita hurriedly added as they rubbed the back of their neck. An attempt, Lucifer noted, to hide the blush they usually had on that spot. “Can’t lose to Demons – even if they are the Lords of Hell – Luke won’t let me hear the end of it if I got less marks than Mammon or Asmo.”

Right. Right, of course. It would not have anything to do with him.

And yet.

And yet.

Lucifer nodded. “Then do your best to make sure the little chihuahua won’t have anything to bark about.”

Kita averted their gaze. “Right.”

Silence lingered between them; Kita looking down at their book, hands still on their neck, Lucifer still standing and not quite knowing how to carry on with the conversation.

He should go. He should leave Kita to their studies, as was his original intention. He shouldn’t take more time than he already did from their schedule and he shouldn’t say anything further that would only prove to be distractions for the two of them. Idle conversation that would most likely lead to nothing unproductive. Besides, they would need a lot of time memorizing all the names –

“Well, then –”

“Lucifer, look – ”

They started to speak at the same time, stopped at the same time, and stared at each other waiting for the other one to start again.

“You go.” Kita then said.

“No, you continue.” Lucifer said, placing emphasis on his next words. “I insist.”

Kita seemed to recognize the tone he used as the one that brooked no argument. They took a deep breath, hesitating at first, before very slowly patting the book in front of them. “Can you help me with this?”

“What?”

“I mean – if you’re not too busy, of course.”

Lucifer stared at them as they continued to ramble, continued to explain that they knew Lucifer was also studying for exams on top of council duties but that he did tell all of them to study well – and they were trying, all the brothers have sworn off any shenanigans for two days – but they also know he’d aced this test before and Kita was, quite frankly, completely at a loss so if he could help them and maybe quiz them so they could retain the names more, that would be immensely helpful and they would be forever grateful.

“And,” Kita continued, nearly out of breath, “if you have any nuggets of wisdom now is the right opportunity to maybe share.”

Lucifer knew he could count the times when prizes had been so deliberately placed in front of him for the taking with little effort, knew he’d not even reach the count of three, knew that all he needed to do at the moment was to pluck the gem laid out before him and take it for what it was: a golden opportunity best taken advantage of while it lasted.

These moments were far and few in-between; life had never really been kind to him.

But he could not help but be a fool – a prideful fool – who distrusted anything he did not schemed for or forcibly took. “What it’s in it for me?”

“What?” Kita looked genuinely bewildered.

“What do you offer in exchange for my help?” Lucifer leaned on the table, wanting nothing more than to take back what he said and yet couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. “My help comes at a cost.”

“Cost? I’m just asking for – oh. Oh.” Kita clasped their hands together, eyes brightening.

And again, this took Lucifer by surprise. He had expected them to sulk, or retract their plea, or at least be annoyed at him. Kita had come from genuine need for results – a result he had demanded of them – and here he was demanding something from them again. If Lucifer were in Kita’s position, he would not hesitate to turn the offer down. Violently. Part of him had even prepared for the possibility that Kita would be angry.

But they were not. Far from it.

How was it so easy for them to take him by surprise?

“Of course! Because Demons will never do anything without this weird give-me- your-soul-in-exchange-for-a-wish thing, huh?” Kita laughed.

Lucifer found himself staring at them again. “Not your soul – ”

“I know, I know.” Kita waived their hand, stopping him mid-sentence. A rare thing – how many times had they interrupted him in the five minutes since this conversation started? “I’m a treasured exchange student, my soul isn’t up for grabs, blah blah blah.”

Kita looked at him with a determined glint in their eyes now, and the warmth that Lucifer had turned away earlier came back with a vengeance and with no intention of going away.

“First though, if I do pass the test than that means I won’t be suffering any tortuous punishment.” Kita said. “And you have to treat me to Devildom’s best ice cream.”

“It’s a little too late to change the terms to our first agreement but, all right.” Lucifer agreed. “As for my terms –”

Kita interrupted him for the umpteenth time. “If I score lower than Mammon, I’ll treat you to ice cream.”

“How utterly dull.” He scoffed. “If you score lower than any of my brothers, you will have to treat me to something from the human world that I have not yet tasted.”

“What?!” They gasped. “That’s impossible!”

“I think it’s only fair. Since it is in my interest that you pass this test with flying colors, it is only common sense that I put in such parameters to this new agreement. Besides, I’m the one rendering service, shouldn’t I be the one who gets to say my price?”

“Well, yeah…” Kita chewed on her lip. “But hang on, does this mean your reward is to actually see me pass the test?”

“Do not misunderstand. I expect all of my efforts to bear nothing but the best fruit and as such your passing is but the natural course. However, in the unlikely event that you do fail, then my reward is the execution of your punishment and the pleasure of something novel from the human world.”

Kita slowly nodded. “I was expecting something else, really.”

Lucifer raised both brows, curious.

But Kita only shook their head. “But more importantly, do you seriously think I can top Satan’s score?”

“Of course.” Lucifer answered, taking the empty seat beside them. “I am the one tutoring you, am I not?”

Kita grinned widely at that. “You should not let Satan hear that.”

“I have all the confidence in my skills and all the faith in yours.”

“Whatever.” Kita’s hands went to their neck again. “But all right. Deal. I can practically taste my ice cream already.”

Lucifer took out his personal pen, flipped open the book to where Kita was last reading. “Now, I want you to look at these names and tell me what stands out to you the most.”

It was only when Lucifer was sure Kita was immersed again on their textbook did Lucifer allow himself the softest of smiles. Something that he knew he never believed he could do.

Lucifer did not count how many hours passed as he and Kita went over dates, places, names that were too familiar, too weird, and too closely spelled to be any different from all the others. He did not count how much snack they both consumed or how much coffee Kita managed to guzzle in-between bathroom breaks. Nor did Lucifer count how many times he had sensed his brothers peaking at them from the door, with him bracing himself for any interruption. But none of them entered – if only in their respect for Kita and what they wanted to accomplish.

But Lucifer did count the times Kita was close enough that their arms brushed against each other, and the times Kita would lean over to where he was point at the map and he could smell their perfume. Lucifer counted the times Kita smiled triumphantly at having recalled something faster, the times they rubbed their cheeks in frustration, and the times they laughed at his comments on about Devildom history.

He counted. And each one, he tucked inside that warmth spreading in him, making him feel a lot of things he would not bother counting or saying out loud.

35/182

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The President is having a rough time. That much we can easily infer by reading both the medical and the political tea leaves that have dropped all around him in recent days. As of October 7, 2020–27 days from the Presidential Election — here’s where we stand.

It is a story in three parts:

1. Trump has, or at least had, severe Covid. We can infer that from the drugs he’s been prescribed.

For the past five days he has been on a course of Remdesivir, an antiviral medication that can interrupt viral reproduction. According to the Financial Times, the FDA “authorised the emergency use of Remdesivir for Covid-19 in May for patients with severe coronavirus who need extra oxygen or mechanical ventilation to help them breathe. In August, the FDA extended the emergency use authorisation to anyone in hospital with Covid-19, however severe their disease.”

He has also been given Regeneron’s multiple-monoclonal antibody therapy, a drug that directly kills the virus. He was given an 8-gram dose, which is very high, indicating that his viral load was significant when they got him to the hospital on Friday. This drug has not yet even been authorized for emergency use, but his doctors leaned on the regulatory agencies and the company to be able to prescribe it for compassionate use. This is the drug that, in my opinion, likely saved his life. At least for now. Note, this drug does NOT stop the virus from resurging, but it can be administered again without harm, so long as his body does not develop a resistance to the antibodies, themselves.

Notably, neither of these drugs will help to reverse damage already done to the organs.

The third big-hitter drug he received was a steroid called Dexamethasone. It is used to help prevent the body’s immune system from doing more damage than the virus. When the immune system goes into overdrive, there is significant swelling that can, itself, severely damage the organs. With Covid, that swelling can be so bad that it kills the organs, then the patient. The World Health Organization advises doctors to only use the drug in severe or critical cases, because it can have powerful side-effects — both physiological and psychological.

Physiologically, it SHREDS the immune system. That is, literally, what it is intended to do, which — in this case — is good for him, because he’s getting the Remdesivir and the Regeneron cocktail to fight the Covid, but BAD for him because for the next week or so, he’s got no meaningful immune system and that bathtub mold left behind by William Howard Taft in the White House jakes might take him out quicker than he can kill anyone else with his coronavirus.

Psychologically, it can lead to mania or more severe depressive states — which has got to at least rate a bit of a worry among Trump’s advisors, right?

Well, maybe not — and that brings us to the next point.

Donnie is all alone.

2. The second thing we know, or can infer from the past few days’ events, is that President Trump is finally — and fully — leading his own parade. There really is no sane doctor in the land who, short of wanting to fluff the Commander-in-Chief, would have authorized either his Sunday night joyride, or even his discharge from the hospital as if he’d just come down with a touch of 24-Hour Covid.

But, well, Trump. Even casual observers quickly learn that he does not tolerate independence in his advisors. They either show a willingness to bend to his will, or they are drummed out of service. As such, when he needs someone to finally stand up to him, even for his own good, they are long, long gone. Some folks are lamenting Dr. Sean Conley for tarnishing his reputation this past week, but in truth, you could have inferred that from the simple fact that he’s Trump’s personal physician. It’s the same for everyone. Persistent exposure to his toxicity either leads to outright rejection, or total corruption and collapse. At this point in his life and his Presidency, there simply are no grown-ups left in the room.

That goes for his political team, too. But with them, it’s even worse: Not only have the ones with actual backbone long since been ejected from the West Wing, the toadies that are left are now all down for the count because of this virus. Here’s a list of his people who are currently either ill or in quarantine:

Hope Hicks, chief adviser to the president.

Bill Stepien, campaign manager.

Kayleigh McEnany, White House press secretary.

RNC Chairwoman Ronna McDaniel.

Chris Christie, top political advisor.

Melania Trump, his wife.

Nicholas Luna, assistant and “body man” to the president.

Kellyanne Conway, former White House senior adviser.

Stephen Miller, his pet Nazi.

Lord knows what sort of protocols are in place in the East Wing of the White House, right now, but given the pacing and the lunacy of the Tweets, there’s just no one there to stop him. He is amped up on steroids, likely a bit delirious, and clearly surprised — and offended — that his “triumphant return” was mocked by everyone outside of his Proud Boy Fan Club as a weird, pathetic Evita routine wherein he was clearly gasping for air. He’s pissed off, alone, and facing the greatest humiliation of his life in 28 days. CNN today has Biden up by 16 points — 57% to 41%. That is getting into Ronald Reagan / Walter Mondale ’84 territory, when the Gipper beat the Man from Minnesota by an Electoral College margin of 525 to 13.

Clearly, Donald is losing his mind — likely due to the drugs, but also because he is all alone, scared out of his wits, and can’t seem to do a damn thing about it. There is no one left to bully.

So, what does he do?

He lashes out like a haunted madman at the nation he purportedly leads.

3. In his almost four years at the helm, he has typed nearly every single type of public obscenity into his iPhone that a Manson Family member could imagine — but he save the most purely foolish of them for today. A few hours after the Fed Chair — you know, the guy in charge of global capitalism — came right out and said, in essence, “Hey, Washington, we need massive government spending NOW to save the economy!” Trump tweeted, literally and explicitly, “I have instructed my representatives to stop negotiating until after the election when, immediately after I win, we will pass a major Stimulus Bill.”

Holy shit!

The Fed Chair screamed: “STEP ON THE GAS!” and Trump, instead, slammed on the brakes. The market reacted by cratering nearly 600 points. They will pause for a moment, before again jumping off the cliff tomorrow, when no course correction is offered. This is very, very bad.

Backed into a corner, and with the economy teetering over the abyss, he has decided to take the entire country hostage — with an implicit promise that we either elect HIM, or he will let the entire country burn.

You know, I like to think that if McDaniel, or Stepien, or McEnany, or Hicks, or even Conway were there, they might have at least tried to talk him down from such an utterly insane position — one from which he has ZERO room to retreat without looking like a fool — but maybe not. Maybe after the Covid and the Roids and the Evita jokes, he would have gone ahead and set the world on fire regardless of what any advisor suggested.

Now we’ll never know. That die has been cast. And with it, I believe, his Presidency is all but over — short of straight-up election theft, or an auto coup d’etat.

Both, sadly, are still possibilities.

But shy of that, this President has demonstrated to everyone in the past few days that he has come undone. He is unbalanced, unhinged, disconnected from reality, physically ill, and getting his ass kicked by a dude he calls Sleepy Joe.

To put it lightly: It’s not a good look.

On top of that, his idiot son Eric — a used piece of moral toilet paper, who got busted two years ago for stealing money from a children’s cancer charity — just got deposed in a court case that will almost certainly spit out a basket of Trump Family indictments before Christmas this year, and Vladimir Putin — his patron (and banker) in Moscow is either prepping the piss tape for TMZ once his gimp is no longer useful, or burning the evidence trail so none of this can ever be tied, definitively, back to him.

All in all, Trump should count himself lucky if that Taft fungus rises up from the drain pipe and puts him out of his misery. Nothing good happens for him from here. He can still drag us all down with him, but he won’t get back up off this mat.

Or so, at least, it seems.

Love to you all.