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tiny-maus-boots · 5 years

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Wild West AU pt 20

A/N: This one was a little bit longer of a ride. But alas we’ve come to the end of this fic. Thanks dear readers for taking the time to like, kudo, and comment. You’re appreciated.

A/N 2: the biggest of huggest of thanks to my bestie and beta @chloes-yellow-cup because she puts up with a lot of bullshittery from me. And she does the thing with ao3 because I’m lame and refuse to. ilyan

Chloe

“Tell me again why we’re letting her do this?”

Beca huffed and kicked at a loose stone, one hand wrapped tightly around the reins of her horse. Chloe shifted in her saddle and shook her head. They both looked at Stacie who was leaning against a tree watching as Aubrey made her way on to her family’s property. Stacie hadn’t let Aubrey out of her sight since they’d all come back from Penitence. Aubrey was still weak and healing, it was too soon for her to make a trip to back to her family estate but the blonde had been adamant about bringing her brother’s body home for burial. She and Beca had expected Stacie to argue but the tall brunette had simply sighed and nodded her acquiescence.

So they had made the journey together, taking ways less common to get there. It hadn’t been the worst thing for them since most of the people looking expected them to be heading south not east from Texas. It gave them a chance to move a little slower so Aubrey could rest as much as possible which was a bonus she supposed but the whole idea hadn’t set right with Chloe. Gerrard Posen would not take kindly to Aubrey riding up, much less with her brother’s body in tow.

Stacie turned her head slowly toward them, eyes filled with something dark and heavy. “She’s gotta do this. Bree’s gotta close the book on this part of her life because we ain’t never coming back here again.” Stacie turned back just in time to see Aubrey slide slowly from her saddle but glanced away again as if it hurt to watch. “Least let her say goodbye to her momma.”

Beca snorted at that and threw her hands up in the air. “Eunice can rot in Hell right alongside her devil son.”

Chloe had to clear her throat so she wouldn’t laugh because it wasn’t really funny. Aubrey’s mother had sat by idly while Gerrard had beaten and tortured the blonde on a daily basis. She’d said nothing when Avery had done unspeakable things to his sister, and agreed when Gerrard placed the blame squarely on Aubrey’s shoulders. Truth be told she would have liked to put a bullet in both their heads but she knew agreeing with Beca now would only make her mate ride off after their friend and that wasn’t how it should all play out. “Easy there, Cowgirl. She can handle herself ya know.”

Beca gave her a look and jerked her chin at Chloe’s horse. “Yeah? Then why are you still sitting on that damn Army nag ready to charge down the hill after her?”

It was a point she hadn’t wanted to concede but knew it was the truth. She was just as anxiously waiting for some sign or signal that Aubrey needed them. Chloe opened her mouth to say something but closed it with a click and shrugged. “Because.”

“Because where one goes, we all go. That’s the rule.” Beca turned at Stacie’s rough and strained voice but the taller woman wasn’t looking at either of them. She had her eyes trained to the door of the big plantation manor waiting for the first sight of Aubrey. “And the last time we split it all went to shit and we almost lost…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “It was almost real bad. No one’s sayin’ we can’t have strong opinions on this, we just gotta respect her enough to let her do what she’s gotta do.”

Beca gave a deep sigh but nodded and Chloe dismounted to come around behind her. She slid her arms around Beca’s middle and pulled her back against her chest, chin resting on the brunette’s shoulder. The smaller woman instantly relaxed into her with another sigh, this one much quieter and more resigned to letting things happen.

“I know Bec, I hate her being there with them too.”

Beca nodded, her hands trailing over Chloe’s arms around her. “Think we’d know if something happened?”

The words were hardly out of Beca’s mouth when two shots rang out and echoed up to them. Stacie’s shoulders went stiff for a bare second before she was leaping to Rowdy’s back and pulling him around to the road. Chloe gave Beca a small squeeze before they broke apart, each scrambling to get mounted as quickly as they could. They were halfway to the property line when a familiar figure stepped out onto the verandah. Chloe pulled back the reins and slowed when Aubrey dipped her head and settled her Stetson on top. They were too far to see the expression on her face but Aubrey had come out of the house alone and was slowly climbing back into the saddle with only a glance back at the wagon that held Avery’s coffin.

Aubrey

“You sure you don’t want us to go with you?”

Aubrey gave a tight lipped smile as she buckled the leather traces on her horse leading the wagon. She did want them to go with her but that was precisely why they could not. All it would take would be for one person to see them all there together and the law would be after them all over again. She patted the big gray on the neck before turning to face her family. Her real family. Not the empty, cold people that had raised her.

“I have to go alone Beca.”

“Do you?”

They had been arguing it for three days now but she understood why her friend couldn’t let it go. Aubrey took a settling breath and limped slowly to the side of the wagon to look at the coffin. Avery was already starting to smell and flies were zinging around the crude wooden box that held his body. Of all of them Beca was the most vocal about her displeasure but Aubrey was not at all fooled by Chloe and Stacie choosing to remain quiet. She knew they would rather be with her than not.

“I do. I don’t expect you to understand, I’m not sure I rightly do myself, but I need to take him home. I need to answer for his end.”

Stacie looked up and then away and she knew that the brunette was thinking Aubrey had nothing to answer for because she hadn’t been the one to murder Avery. But Aubrey would have. If she could have held a gun in her hands she would have shot her only brother dead in the dirt. Had even told Stacie to kill him outright, a thing she only partially regretted.

Avery’s life and death were increasingly heavy weights upon her back and she was ready to leave it all to her father. Let him bear the burden of all those years of pain and suffering, let him struggle with the knowledge that his legacy was no more.

“I get that you think you have something to say but…you can’t say it from the end of your rifle? From way out here?” The plea in Beca’s voice was heartbreaking but she couldn’t let it keep her from what needed to be done. The shorter woman must have realized that it was no use because she rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Okay. Fine. I understand that you have to finish this. Just…don’t let it finish you. Okay?”

Aubrey chuckled and gave a slight nod, surprised when Beca leaned into the undamaged side of her body for a brief hug. She was released quickly and Beca moved off with a sniff that was more telling than any argument she could have made. Honestly she had expected more of a fight from Chloe but her best friend remained quiet, choosing instead to hold Roan steady while Stacie helped her get mounted. It was difficult with her leg gone stiff from her injury and her arm in a sling but she made it up alright.

Stacie let her hand linger on Aubrey’s calf, its warm weight reassuring and comforting. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to Stacie but none she had the words for. It didn’t much matter, the gentle squeeze of assurance and playful wink let her know that Stacie knew exactly why she was doing what she was doing.

“We’ll be waiting on ya, darlin’.”

It was so little, just a single sentence really, but it meant so much. Aubrey touched the brim of her hat and gave a short nod of her head. Stacie chuckled softly and stepped back to let her go. She tapped her heels into Roan’s flanks and he surged forward, pulling the trail pup cart behind him.

Taking the long dirt track up to the main house gave her a strange feeling. It was like putting on a familiar coat and finding it two sizes too small. The closer she got the more tightly constricted she felt until her breathing came in short and shallow pants. Aubrey hesitated for a moment as she passed under the wide arch and continued up the path to the manor.

It was mildly startling when she realized that she hated this place. Hated everything about it from the large white house to everything it represented. She hated the proudly hung confederate flags. She hated her brother and the feeling of dread that came along with his presence, dead or alive. And most importantly she hated her father. A man who sowed cruelty, fear and hate while pretending to be a pious man of principle.

Roan snorted and tossed his head as he slowed and finally stopped, drawing her out of the turmoil of her thoughts. The shadow of the house seemed to grow, reaching further out to cover her almost as if it wanted to claim her. She hooked the knotted reins on the horn of her saddle and carefully swung her leg over, using her good arm to balance as she gripped the horn tightly and eased herself down.

“Miss Aubrey? Lord….wait. Let me help you.”

Strong hands steadied and guided her gently to the ground and she turned to see a familiar smiling face. “Thank you Josiah.” She smiled as she took a step back to take him all in. “You sure have grown tall like your daddy. Last time I was here…”

“I was knee high to a pony.” His deep rumble of a laugh was infectious and she chuckled too. “It sure has been a long time Miss Aubrey. None of us thought we’d ever see you here again. You traded in your pretty Sunday dresses for cold steel instead I see.”

Her smile faded and she gave a slow nod. “I have found that I am more likely to be heard if people think I might be willing to shoot them.”

Josiah gave her a deep laugh and nodded. It was a nice sound and he looked so much like his father Big John. Josiah’s family had labored hard under her father’s ownership and when the Confederacy fell they chose to stay on as sharecroppers and hired help. Despite the way she felt about being back there, she was glad to see the young boy she had known, grown into a man.

“Yes ma’am I do believe that does make one memorable conversation starter. Can I stable your horse?”

She thought about it and shook her head. “No, thank you. Just unhitch him for me. I reckon I won’t be long. I’m just here to bring my brother home.”

He blinked at her then turned surprised eyes to the cart, finally taking in the coffin laying in the bed of it. Josiah let out a breath and turned back to her, his face a careful emotionless mask. “Is that Mister Avery?”

Aubrey gave a curt nod and hooked her thumb in gun belt as she glanced at the box. “It is. I’m sure Father will want to see him buried with the family.” She took a breath and started to walk up to the front steps. Josiah’s low voice rumbled out and she looked over her shoulder at him.

“I’m sorry for your loss Miss Aubrey.”

She gave him a slow nod of acknowledgement and sighed. “Thank you, Josiah.” Aubrey turned back to the large heavy door steeled herself to reach out and open it but the knob twisted and the door swung in before she could do it herself. Aubrey brought her head up and met her mother’s honey brown eyes. “Hello Mother.”

There was a moment when she was sure her mother would slam the door in her face. In the back of her mind she had hoped that she would. It would make leaving all the easier, her duty was done, she’d brought Avery home and now she could leave. But her mother stepped out onto the verandah and flung herself against Aubrey’s body, squeezing her tightly. She groaned softly as her shoulder protested the pressure but she didn’t dare let go. “Oh Aubrey….oh my Lord. You’re alive.”

Tears welled up but she cleared her throat and stepped back. How she wished that her mother had shown even one half of that much affection for her growing up. Of course she knew her mother could never stand up to her father, she was weak and dependent on him and Aubrey could not fault her for that. But it didn’t mean she hadn’t longed for the comfort and love of a mother when she had been hurt so badly. Her mother’s fingers traced over the scar on her face and Aubrey jerked her head away roughly.

“You!” The door swung open wider and her father’s broad shoulder’s filled the space. His green eyes, the same shade as her own, burned with hate at the very sight of her. It was expected and yet it was like taking a kick to the gut. “What are you doing here? You ungrateful…”

“Avery’s dead.” It had stopped his rant before it even began and he searched for the lie in her eyes. There was none and she met his gaze evenly, waiting for him to accept the truth of it. Her father backed into the house, shock making his jaw go slack and his steps seem brittle and unsteady. Her mother balled fists in Aubrey’s shirt and gave her a shake as if that would make it any less true. “I’m sorry mother. I’ve brought his body home.”

Her mother turned to look at the cart sitting not ten feet away and gasped out a sob. She turned and fled into the house to cling to Aubrey’s father for comfort of which he had little to spare. But he held her and rocked her soothingly as silent sobs shook his own body. It was not the loss of her brother than brought Aubrey pain. It was the knowledge that on her passing there would be no such show of grief or tenderness of her memory.

Aubrey settled her shoulders and limped into the house, shutting the door behind her. She swept her hat off her head, letting her golden locks fall to her shoulders. The blonde placed her hat on the round table in the foyer and looked around, taking in every detail and noting that nothing had changed in the slightest.

“How….how did it happen?”

She turned her head toward her father and raised a brow. “He picked a fight with the wrong outlaw and her wife took exception.” It fell heavy as a stone between them, her sobbing mother oblivious to her words or their meaning. But her father was not. His sharp gaze cut to her and she nodded once in confirmation of what he was silently asking. Yes. He had been coming after Aubrey herself.

“You killed my boy? You murdered your own blood?” Rage filled his eyes and he shoved her mother away roughly, the bit of warm compassion evaporating under the burning heat of hate. “I should have killed you when you were a child. Drowned you in the river…” He advanced on her in two steps but her gun was in her hand and cocked before the third step fell.

“I did not kill him, though I would have. Your boy? Your boy was nothing more than a bully and tormentor.” She hadn’t wanted it to come to this but she had known she might need to defend herself, had mentally prepared for it because the house was not the only thing that remained unchanged. He had never loved her, or even liked her before, and now that she was the cause of Avery’s death he loathed her.

“And you are nothing more than a thief and a whore.” Her mother gave a sharp sob but she didn’t argue it and she didn’t get up from her place on the floor where she had been cast off. She wanted to be angry but she couldn’t muster it. She was just too tired of the oppressive weight to living in Gerrard Posen’s mighty shadow. “You may walk out of this house, girl, but I will have the law after you. And the Devil will take you to his bosom when they hang you from your neck. You are a curse and a blight upon the name of Posen.”

Aubrey’s chuckle was soft and he glared at her audacity in mocking him. “He may very well do that, I’ll send your son my regards when I get there.”

It was too much for him and he roared, intending to rush her and take her to the ground. She had no doubt he would choke the life from her if he managed to get his meaty hands around her throat. He’d done it once before only stopping when a fire had sparked in the fields. A fire she suspected was started by Josiah’s father, Big John. Aubrey didn’t wait to find out if she was right or not, she pulled the trigger and shot into the ground at his feet as a warning.

Her mother screamed and covered her ears with her hands. Her father paused only a moment before he continued to lunge. It felt like she had all the time in the world to bring her gun up and aim at his chest. She was already thumbing back the hammer but the soft click was no more a deterrent than the warning shot she had just fired. She thought she would be sad or broken about pulling the trigger a second time. She thought that she would feel….something from taking his life, but she felt nothing at all. Her mother gave another scream and finally lifted from her place on the floor to run to her husband’s side.

“What have you done Aubrey?! What have you done??”

The barrel of her still smoking gun dipped and she wearily holstered it with a shake of her head. “I showed a mercy that was never shown to me.” She opened the door and snagged her hat off the table, sparing one last glance at the house she once called home and the woman she once called mother. “I didn’t come here to kill him, but I’m not sad he’s dead.”

Aubrey stepped out on to the porch and settled her hat on her head. Josiah was staring at her, one hand on Roan’s neck idly stroking. The flutter of red caught her attention and Aubrey’s lip curled in disgust. Anger finally broke through her apathy and she reached up to tear down the confederate flag, balling it and tossing it in the dirt as she made her way down the steps.

“Are you alright Miss Aubrey?”

She didn’t rightly know. But she wasn’t going to sit around there figuring it out. Aubrey strode purposefully to her horse and Josiah cautiously helped her climb up into the saddle. “I will be but Gerrard will not. Best call the doctor up here…and Josiah? Burn that garbage and any other rebel banner you find.”

He gave a slow nod and looked toward the door to the house. “I saw you go north.”

She gave the reins a tug to turn Roan around and raised a brow in question. “What?”

“When they come for you….I saw you leave north.”

He reached up a hand and Aubrey clasped it in hers, understanding fully what he meant. “You’re a good man Josiah, may God bless you.”

Hooves thundered down the path and she smiled as her family rode up to meet her. Josiah ducked his head and smiled up at her. “Where will you really go?”

“Where ever they go, I go.” Aubrey clicked her tongue and Roan trotted forward leaving the weight of her past behind her with every step.

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vardasvapors · 6 years

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DRUNK LIVEBLOG OF THE AKALLABETH BC I PROMISED @rose-of-the-bright-sea

Uh unfortunately i’m not too drunk since once again my job was to bounce everyone once the party ended but uhhh it is early morning and i’m still not asleep and i did just spend 5 hours dancing and doing shots so...

ANYWAY: first scene of the Akallabeth, remember how the edain were the only Men who fought against morgoth in the war of wrath etc, and when morgoth was defeated the Evil Men who fought for him ran away and conquered all the Stupid Men who were still living in the middle earth area and these men’s lives sucked and were constantly attacked by orcs and monsters and they were dumb and wild and stuff. this explanation is like 20 kinds of LMAO NARRATIVES but also not like, in a lying way, just in a framing way.

otoh the edain got given a giant island in the middle of the ocean as a reward for fighting against morgoth and stuff, osse and aule and yavanna did it. (valar: ‘have an island way out in the sea’ elros: ‘SOUNDS LEGIT’). meanwhile the elves of ME are long-sufferingly granted permission to come to tol eressea because their lives kinda suck. the difference in the tone of the edain’s gift and the elves’ gift is totally not noticed by the narrator but the fact that avallone was build on the eastern edge of tol eressea where it could be seen from numenor is. lol.

there’s this super gorgeous entrancing description of how earendil burned super bright so that he shone night and day and the edain followed him over the calm enchanted sea until they found the island of numenor -- andor the land of gift, elenna that is starwards. however we all know all this incredible rich storytelling stuff isn’t important compared to the tiny scrap of smugness that can be wrung out of making elros hate earendil and/or elves, bc everyone knows that no character’s narrative matters except the feanorians’.

elves of ME also brought all the edain to numenor and elves of tol eressea gave the edain a ton of tools and gifts and stuff to help build their new nation, but you know it’s fun to headcanon elros as a bitter chest-puffing supercilious self-satisfied little prick who finds these elves embarrassing and blinkered and their existence pitiful and tut-tuttingly Wrong. bc that makes sense and is woke for some reason.

the numenoreans became taller than all the sons of middle earth, not all the men of middle earth, so numenoreans are taller than elves. also they didn’t have a lot of kids, bc i guess population explosions on islands with almost no death outside of like 300 years of old age is a Bad Time.

also “and the light of their eyes was like the bright stars” hahahahahahahahaha lmao! kill me! lies down. does not get up.

WHITE TREE FRACTALS

the numenoreans are super cool and get to talk and visit with both elves of tol eressea and elves of middle earth, which seems to lead to the completely inescapable conclusion that numenor is a place where the peoples of all lands can pass messages to one another but this is never mentioned. the numenoreans could totally also have prob defeated the evil human kings of middle earth if they tried but they were totes peaceful -- at an undefined point in time. nice vague timeline blurring bruh.

instead they like, instructed the dumb middle earth men on how to grow grain and grind flour and make stuff out of wood bc uh i guess the middle earth men are too dumb to figure it out, for “the ordering of their life, such as it might be in the lands of swift death and little bliss” hahahahahaha this is the most condescending line in the entire silm it’s great.

then the numenoreans start getting dissatisfied with how they still gotta die and stuff. it’s vaguely described as being something to do with how even their long lives are still not as long as elves’ loves, but every time i read this it reminds me how pissed about mortality i’d be if my great-great-great-uncle who was totally allowed to choose to become immortal kept popping in to talk about how he got to see the cool millennia of my country’s history first hand and debate with my revered ancestral founding king. so.

however the numenoreans totally brush over these sorts of super compelling and sympathetic and valid points and instead just whine about how they’re A Bigshot Kewl Superior Race and HDU Say We Can’t Control Everything If We Wanna, 36 Presents? But Last Century I Got 37! because they’re fucking useless dumbasses.

The valar reply that Aman Will Not Make You Immortal, Yo, and also that elves being immortal and men being mortal aren’t rewards or punishments, which are reasonable points. they then go on to go ‘TBH shouldn’t WE be the ones envying YOU bc you get to peace out of this clusterfuck world, huh, huh whaddaya think about that. also btw the whole mortality thing is some Secret Plan To Fight Inflation eru came up with, and none of us will know it until you and a bajillion generations of your descendants are all dead, lol!!!!’ THANKS VALAR. THAT’S REALLY HELPFUL. GREAT JOB OF ACTUALLY ADDRESSING ANYTHING THE NUMENOREANS ARE BOTHERED ABOUT. KUDOS. i love dumb gods.

the numenoreans are super dissatisfied but instead of anything constructive the king decides to hold his breath and throw a tantrum stay king until he’s totally senile and his son is old, bc of spite, then numenor gets divided into the king’s men and the faithful. the faithful are also bleh about death but assume that the valar have some kind of good reason for what they said, because um, reasons, i guess. no one says if the reasons are more mindless dogma or more a grounding and strengthening faith, but since numenoreans sound like RL humans to a tee it’s probably both. the king’s men aren’t skeptics tho -- they just conquer and enslave and colonize and steal from middle earth, bc ‘the west was denied to them.’ some fans find this to be a ‘yes, but--’ where it’s not the best thing to do but sympathetic and better than those un-nietzschean faithful. i’m gonna assume every single person who finds this nod-worthy is as White as sour cream.

later on Ar-Gimilzor bans the Faithful’s language, sends secret police or smth to find out everyone who is Faithful and forcibly remove them from their homes, relocate them to Romenna, and corral and watch them, call them and the elves of tol eressea spies, chase them out of numenor, and force the faithful leader’s sister to marry the king. some fans still somehow think this was a morally grey and understandable thing to do because secular-culturally-christian libs are vile and have never parsed a history book in their lives.

Tar-Palantir becomes king after being secretly taught Faithful stuff by his secretly faithful mom, but nothing he does to fix things helps and he eventually dies young from depression. His daughter Tar-Miriel becomes queen but her cousin Ar-Pharazon forces her to marry him and give him the kingship instead. exactly how this happened remains unexplained! Boo! I want more details. Anyway Pharazon is a Fragile Masculinity poster boy and when sauron starts causing trouble he decides he’s just gotta go capture him and bring him to numenor to show off and stroke his ego, bc he is an Heir Of Eärendil and Respect Meehhh!! God this guy sounds SO UNPLEASANTLY FAMILIAR DOESN’T HE EH. (parenthetically i am delighted beyond words at how absolutely bang-on it is that the King’s Men, both here and earlier with the convo with the Valar, totally Do Not Mention the fact that they’re heirs of Elros, not just Earendil, bc that would be super inconvenient to their vision of themselves and their mortality grievance!! lol!!! i love it!!!! god!!!!!!!! *fingers and thumb in a circle emoji*).

anyway sauron is super smart and an awesomesauce genre-savvy villain and way too good for pharazon and he flatters him and manipulates him into making him his councilor and convinces him that the valar are lying and and to worship morgoth and slaughter the faithful by sacrificing them on.....hm....altars....as rebels and as scapegoats for all numenor’s Problems(TM)....>_>....lmao tolkien can be really fucking dumb and scattered about his mythology and religion patchworking, and yet the wokeness-masturbating section of fandom is infinitely worse in the most predictable ways.

WHITE TREE FRACTALS (this time featuring bonus BAMF and Super Awesome And Lovable 21 Year Old Isildur......have i mentioned recently how much i hate peter jackson......)

anyway when Pharazon has a mid-life crisis about getting old sauron also convinces him he can become immortal by invading aman, which he should totally do bc The Strong Do What They Will And The Weak Bear What They Must (remember this is tragically admirable if flawed, because it’s defying fate!) and a super armament is built to invade aman and ar-Pharazon’s ex-bff Amandil who’s secretly friends with the Faithful freaks and makes secret plans to sail to valinor to beg the valar to do something and has his son elendil prepare to go to middle earth to see the elves who are hunkered down there doing.....uhhhhh???? probably hiding from numenorean conquest????

but anyway when pharazon invades aman and chases the elves out of tol eressea and then tirion, he has a Uh-Oh I Think This Was A Bad Idea feeling but can’t back down now so he lands ashore and camps out around tirion and then manwe prays to eru to bail everyone out and says he will lay down rule of arda for a minute since he doesn’t know what to do, presumably a la ‘omg dad i fucked up and totally crashed your car,’ and eru solves this by getting ar-pharazon & co buried under a mountain until the end of the world (funny how so few fans ever address this thing re: tirion in valinor fanfic eh? oh yeah i forgot silm fans don’t give a shit about humans), opening up a big crack in the ocean, pulling aman and tol eressea out into space, turning the earth from flat to spherical, and letting the island of numenor get buried under the resulting tidal wave and fall down the crack to wherever. because you know overkill is great! also sauron is too busy doing an Evil Villain Laugh to realize he’s about to get drowned and he totally dies and has to make himself a new body out of Anger and he’s now ugly, which sucks for the fanartists.

anyway manwe saves elendil and his fleet (it doesn’t say manwe, but it does say ‘but the great wind took [elendil], wilder than any wind that Men had known, roaring from the west, and it swept his ships far away...’ which, duh) and they wind up washed up on middle earth, but totally grief-stricken over the destruction of numenor.

I can’t liveblog the rest any better than verbatim so I’ll just quote:

Among the Exiles many believed that the summit of the Meneltarma, the Pillar of Heaven, was not drowned for ever, but rose again above the waves, a lonely island lost in the great waters; for it had been a hallowed place, and even in the days of Sauron none had defiled it And some there were of the seed of Eärendil that afterwards sought for it, because it was said among loremasters that the far-sighted men of old could see from the Meneltarma a glimmer of the Deathless Land. For even after the ruin the hearts of the Dúnedain were still set westwards; and though they knew indeed that the world was changed, they said: 'Avallónë is vanished from the Earth and the Land of Aman is taken away, and in the world of this present darkness they cannot be found. Yet once they were, and therefore they still are, in true being and in the whole shape of the world as at first it was devised.'

For the Dúnedain held that even mortal Men, if so blessed, might look upon other times than those of their bodies' life; and they longed ever to escape from the shadows of their exile and to see in some fashion the light that dies not; for the sorrow of the thought of death had pursued them over the deeps of the sea. Thus it was that great mariners among them would still search the empty seas, hoping to come upon the Isle of Meneltarma, and there to see a vision of things that were. But they found it not. And those that sailed far came only to the new lands, and found them like to the old lands, and subject to death. And those that sailed furthest set but a girdle about the Earth and returned weary at last to the place of their beginning; and they said:

'All roads are now bent.'

Thus in after days, what by the voyages of ships, what by lore and star-craft, the kings of Men knew that the world was indeed made round, and yet the Eldar were permitted still to depart and to come to the Ancient West and to Avallónë, if they would. Therefore the loremasters of Men said that a Straight Road must still be, for those that were permitted to find it. And they taught that, while the new world fell away, the old road and the path of the memory of the West still went on, as it were a mighty bridge invisible that passed through the air of breath and of flight (which were bent now as the world was bent), and traversed Ilmen which flesh unaided cannot endure, until it came to Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, and maybe even beyond, to Valinor, where the Valar still dwell and watch the unfolding of the story of the world. And tales and rumours arose along the shores of the sea concerning mariners and men forlorn upon the water who, by some fate or grace or favour of the Valar, had entered in upon the Straight Way and seen the face of the world sink below them, and so had come to the lamplit quays of Avallónë, or verily to the last beaches on the margin of Aman, and there had looked upon the White Mountain, dreadful and beautiful, before they died.

#observe my obsession #akallabeth

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an-exotic-writer · 7 years

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jungkook; morning kiss(es)

❝there’s no such thing as singular in jungkook’s book of kisses. only plural. ►1870 words // scenario ♡ this is for @cno-inbminor bc we reached our 200th day snapstreaksary (it’s a word i swear) and this is a little overdue but here it is i tried my best and it’s short but i LOVE YOU KAREN

Jungkook was a person who could be satisfied (and happy) with the littlest of things in life or, could find significance in anything he came across with.

One, you (not to be taken literally but hey, he does use the benefit of being taller and you know when you’re shorter you have a better aim at his di-). Two, discounted prices on set meals he wants to eat. Three, finding a dollar lying on the floor and claiming it as his even though he knows damn well it fell from your purse but finders keepers losers weepers. Four, Jimin and Taehyung messing with Hoseok, only got get a beating after and his devil ass is watching from the side the whole time. And last but not least, sleeping until the sun breaks through the window and rakes his ass awake.

He was a heavy sleeper and that, ladies and gentlemen, was not a surprising thing at all. God no. Almost everyone around him had experienced troubles waking him up at least once (thrice) in their lifetime. As quoted from none other than Kim Seokjin and editing from Kim Namjoon: “That boy can sleep until the world burns down and he’ll wake up being alone.” (end scene)

It was all about getting used to, in your opinion. You’d gauge around the time he’d wake up and plan your day on from there. See, if you can’t change the boy’s habit, change the way you work things around. Simple. (unless you’re living with six other guys who gives no shit with your sleeping habits then kudos to you, good luck chap, better luck next life)

You predict Jungkook would come to wake in... hm... maybe thirty minutes from now? It’s around half-past-nine and considering he slept a little over one this morning last night, his full cycle of sleep will be fulfilled and he’ll be up and going by the time the clock strikes ten. At least, somewhere along those lines, hopefully.

The pan is yours to handle and the aroma of bacon, sausages and eggs fill the entire apartment. One of the perks of living in a small home with Jungkook is that if his alarms don’t get him up, the smell of food surely will. Hey, it’s not intentional, either. The glass door to the kitchen had been faulty within these few days so, you’re being completely honest in what you’re doing.

It’s a little over ten and overdone for the eggs when you set them out onto the plate. You’re not entirely satisfied with it but eh, whatcha’ gonna do, they’re still eggs and eggs taste great. They join the batch of sausages and bacon that you’ve made prior and now all that’s left is the toast because he likes it crunchy so it takes a little while longer so a double run is needed. The first time it pops up, without looking, you’re about to slot it back down but the hand that beats you to it elicits a scream from you and - “Holy shit!”

He grins with sleep still heavy in his system, hair a god damned mess as a result of tousling in his dreams but his arms, still warm as ever much like the look on his face as if the sun is embedded in his being as he stretches out to hold onto you. He pouts, out of his subconscious when you refuse to step towards him because - “A warning would be great, you know?”

He doesn’t respond with words, only whining and if the public could see this, maybe they’ll think twice before labelling him to be a tall nugget who seems far too intimidating for his age. As this is, more than just the opposite of what they have visioned. His body wiggles a little, being impatient. But when he gets what he wants, his smile returns and you feel it on your neck where he kisses you there then rests his weight on the column between your jaw and shoulder.

“If I die of a heart attack, turn yourself in to the cops,” You mutter under your breath, hands coming over his shoulders to strum through the strings of his hair. He chuckles and presses another kiss, nodding, “Guilty as charged, then,”

The pair of you stay like that for a moment. Like the sun hadn’t come out, the moon unavailable, the earth frozen in place without a chance to rotate with the hands of time staying still. A few precious minutes to bask in one another’s presence; Jungkook’s an ocean you’re willing to drown yourself in, you... the sky he wills to fall from if it means meeting you halfway in the bottom; a love so deep he’d jump over and over as long as he gets to hold you when the day cracks open and the night falls apart - anything is nothing as long as it’s for you.

Jungkook peels his eyes open when you nudge him from the pleasure of relishing on the silence and none other than the warmth of you body so close to his. He shifts, but not too far away when he’s learnt how to maneuver around to let you work but at the same time get what he wants. He’s towering from behind, watching as you take the bread from the toaster, spreading - “Jam?”

“Mhm,” He nods, deciding to hover his lips over your exposed shoulder by your loose shirt and he smacks a kiss gently. When it doesn’t show a reaction on your face, he does it again... and again, again, again, travelling over your neck and jaw until he reaches your cheek. He’s a woodpecker at this point, and if it’s possible you could feel a hole being formed that you jab him lightly with your shoulder to get him to - “Quit it or I’ll burn your toast,”

“...but that just means extra crisp,”

“And an earlier death,”

“Ah, you can’t get rid of me so easily,”

“...go be useful. Get me the orange juice and our cups,”

Jungkook decides it’s enough for the morning but as he lets go of you, making sure to stroke his palms over the line of your hips, sneaking his fingers underneath to touch your skin before he glides his hands down your thighs just because, he remains unmoving. He knows you know he’s there based on his body heat and the reflection you have from the glass wall in front of you. Your elbow meets his lower torso and he chuckles because - “Give me a kiss for each thing you want me to do,”

He can read you like a book when you don’t even care anymore, reaching over your shoulder without taking your eyes from what you’re doing to grab him by the neck. He leans forward to make things easier for you, moaning when you kiss him hard once your lips meet, with such aggression too early for the morning and he shudders when you bite on his lower lip. His hands return to your waist, willing to bring you into a familiar dance made for two bodies to link as one but when your hand comes down to his stomach and push him away, he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, “Cups and juice,”

He shakes his head and obliges, stepping away to retrieve what you want. The glasses clink onto the island, along with the carton of orange juice. You know he’s waiting for the next order, because then it’ll - “Pour it out, Jeon,”

“You know what to do, then,”

Over your shoulder, you motion him to come to you and he does without missing a beat. You lever him by the shoulder, tugging him down to kiss his cheek to speed things up. He frowns and puckers his lips but all you do is tap your fingers on it.

“I gave you a kiss. Now go and pour out the juice,”

He throws his head back, “You’re such a tease,”

“You’re the one teasing. Who brought this up in the first place?” It’s your turn to smirk at him, “Now do you want to get more kisses when you get things done or are you just going to stand there?”

It’s a silent say no more, woman as he speeds up in pouring the juice into the glass cups before he brings it out to the dining table without asking. He moves with the blink of an eye, returning to the kitchen to snatch the plates from your hands and you laugh when he’s animatedly buzzing around to set the table in the way you like. Even down to the details of how you position your utensils, moving the flower vase to the side because it’s grants access to see one another during the meal and when it’s - “Done!”

Coming out from where you stood for about a solid two minutes, the presentation is enough to make you laugh because not only does it look great, the final touch of Jungkook trying to pose by leaning his hip against the table while holding a bottle of ketchup and the carton of orange juice is a sight worth dying for.

“Jungkook,”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get extra points,”

Approaching him, you remove the bottle and carton from his grip to set them behind him. Your hands find purchase on his cheeks, his legs automatically part to lure you in and he sighs when you kiss him. His arms move on their own, a natural reaction to hug you tight, refusing to let go when he leans in to prolong a kiss he thinks he did quite well in earning. He has his way for a good minute before you shatter his hopes (and dreams, this dramatic kid) but it’s not all at lost when - “You get your extra points after we’re done with breakfast,”

“Bon appetit, Y/N.”

((you can tell jungkook forgot about the whole bonus points thing when he wordlessly cleans up when he’s done. just as the last bite enters your mouth, jungkook swipes the plate and heads into the kitchen. one of the things you love about this kid is that he shows his gratitude in actions more than words. a silent rule of you cooking and him cleaning was something that came along the way without a discussion and it makes your heart swell when he takes initiative to do things around the house.

so when he’s setting the last plate onto the dish rack, you can tell he’s surprised but he’s pleased with the way your arms come round his waist as his hands join yours too soon at the familiarity of your presence overwhelming him. he tilts his head to the side when your lips settle on a spot where it sends shivers down his spine, and your hands guide his overlapping ones to the line of his boxers, “ready for your extra points?”

he licks his lips and he has to look at you. eyes dilated with need and desperate for more, his throat runs dry at the lust swimming in your eyes and the look you’re giving him and him alone.

“yes please.”))

#bts scenarios #btswriters #networkbangtan #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #:>#i like calling him a tall nugget

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gokinjeespot · 6 years

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off the rack #1219

Monday, July 2, 2018

It's stinking hot out. I wanted to jump in the lake with the fishies yesterday. We drove downtown on Canada Day to spend time with friends and I lucked out on a parking space right in front of their house. The car in front of us pulled out shortly afterwards so I plunked myself down in that spot to hold it for another friend who was driving in from out of town. People were expecting issues with other drivers trolling for a parking space but in typically Canadian fashion, cars just slowly passed by as I was sitting there under my umbrella to shade myself from the hot sun. Only one car stopped, rolled down their window and asked if I was saving the parking space. I said "yep" and they drove off. I probably would have been shot if I did this in the capital city of another country on the fourth of July.

Hunt for Wolverine: Mystery in Madripoor #2 - Jim Zub (writer) Thony Silas (art) Filipe Sobreiro (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). I like this story. Kitty and her team skulking around Madripoor trying to find Wolverine while being hunted by Viper and her very, very bad girls is right in my wheelhouse. Unfortunately the art turns me right off. Unless Psylocke is a midget, how the heck is Logan taller than she is on page 2? All the women's faces are drawn the same with angular features and almond eyes. Even the different hair styles and clothes didn't help to distinguish them. There is a surprise appearance on the last page that's an attempt to keep readers invested in the story but it is not enough for me to read the rest of this mini.

Old Man Hawkeye #6 - Ethan Sacks (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) Andres Mossa (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Clint is like the flu. Whenever he shows up things go from bad to worse. I love this dangerous future Earth where the super villains are in control. Old Man Hawkeye seeking redemption is a great story but President Red Skull trying to kill Bullseye makes this book that much better.

Multiple Man #1 - Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Andy MacDonald (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). Yeah, I thought he was dead too. That's why I pulled this off the rack to read. Jamie died during the Terrigen mists killing all the mutants crisis but they have found a way for one of his dupes to survive that made sense. Then they go and ruin it by having this surviving Jamie steal a time traveling device. I loved Jamie when he was leading X-Factor and was sad when they killed him off. This one is younger and they've tweaked his powers with a big twist on the last page. It just might be enough to get you to keep reading this 5-issue mini.

Batman: Harley Quinn vs. the Joker #1 - Tim Seeley (writer) Sami Basri (art) Otto Schmidt (epilogue art) Jessica Kholinne (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Prelude to the Wedding part 5. Way to screw up the timing DC. This should have hit the racks before Batman #48 and #49 because what happened in those issues involved what happens with the Joker in this one. I had a sense of disassociation when I saw the Joker in the church while reading Batman #48 three weeks ago and now I know why. This screw up will be forgiven if Batman #50 proves to be a good read when it hits the racks July 4. I loved how Harley is drawn in this, even though my least favourite version of her is the Joker infatuated court jester. SOILER ALERT: DO NOT READ the New York Times article about Batman #50 posted July 1.

Saga #53 - Fiona Staples (art) Brian K. Vaughn (writer) Fonografiks (letters). Holy crap in a hat. This is a must read issue if you're a Saga fan. There are major deaths in this issue and that's not including what Brian's doing with all the letters the book receives. If he thinks thoughts of mortality invade in your forties, wait until you get to your sixties.

Sentry #1 - Jeff Lemire (writer) Kim Jacinto (art) Rain Beredo (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). Sentry World part 1. I remember thinking that this super hero was just Marvel's version of Superman when he first hit the racks in 2000 and that his arch enemy the Void was your basic generic super villain. Turns out it's more complicated than that. The Sentry's alter ego sacrificed a lot to save the world from the Void but now Robert Reynolds finds himself in a dangerous situation. Jeff Lemire has taken a character that I didn't much care for and given him a story that I very much want to read now in this 5-issue arc.

Detective Comics #983 - Bryan Hill (writer) Miguel Mendonca (pencils) Diana Egea (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). There's a new writer and he's starting off boldly by introducing a new Bat-villain and a new super hero to join Batman's team of Gotham City crime fighters. This new bad guy has no qualms about killing so things are going to get intense.

Amazing Spider-Man: Wakanda Forever #1 - Nnedi Okorafor (writer) Alberto Alburquerque (art) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This new book stars the fierce warrior women of Wakanda, the Dora Milaje. One of their member has turned super villain, calling herself Malice. When she threatens a neighbourhood in Brooklyn guess who just happens to be swinging by? So it's team up time and they fight with a classic Spider-Man super villain under water. When Malice surfaces again she's going after the Black Panthers ex-wife. If Storm's a target then you know that the X-Men will be involved. Look for X-Men: Wakanda Forever #1 to hit the racks July 25.

Silencer #6 - Dan Abnett (writer) Viktor Bogdanovic (art) Mike Spicer (colours) Tom Napolitano (letters). Exit Strategy part 3 or death in a diner. Talia al Ghul and Hope fight through a horde of Leviathan killers during lunch. It was disappointing that Deathstroke wasn't in there. The two new super villains are cool. I am looking forward to seeing what Cradle and Grave are capable of.

Moon Knight #196 - Max Bemis (writer) Paul Davidson (art) Mat Lopes (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Kudos to Paul Davidson for the mad art for this psychedelic story. Now that Maurice and his crazy collective have been straight jacketed we can see where Marc and his many personalities take us next.

Man of Steel #5 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Adam Hughes (art) Jason Fabok (art pages 8 -11) Adam Hughes (colours) Alex Sinclair (colours pages 8 - 11) Josh Reed (letters). Superman's fight with the big bad Rogol Zaar does not go well. He's taken to the brink of doomsday. By the end of this issue we find out how Rogol Zaar is going to destroy the Earth. Meanwhile, more clues are given about what Lois and Jon have been up to. You might want to review recent Superman stories to understand what's happening.

Marvel 2-In-One #7 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Ramon K. Perez (art) Frederico Blee (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The truth about Doctor Rachna's duplicitousness comes out at last. Plus Johnny finally learns the truth about Sue and Reed. What a revolting development this is. I'm still enjoying this book very much as Chip has come up with interesting ways to keep Ben and Johnny scrambling.

Thor #2/708 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mike del Mundo (art) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). I'm growing to appreciate the new art style and can see subtle expressions in the faces. Mike's use of colour really enhances the action on the page. Thor and Loki join up with some allies in Hel to fight Sindr and her fire hordes. I had forgotten that Hela was no longer the Queen of Hel (was that in the movie too?) and Balder the Brave was King of Hel now. The surprise appearance on the last page will make the throne room in Hel pretty crowded.

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