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Reaper’s Harvest (The Unholy Book Of Ruth) Chapter 113 | Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

“Even a priest has some hours off.”
”And you spend them here? You need a hobby, padre. If you don’t watch out, you might end up prospecting.”
“Well, I’ve never been that good in keeping up hobbies, to be honest. Somehow, I always end up doing something connected to my call.”
“Like visiting trash outside your congregation?”
“You’re referring to yourself or the club?”

Juice shrugs. For once, there might be no difference.

au where Jove Justice never died and he ended up dating Dhurke and that’s why Apollo has two dads

While I’m drunk and u fuckers refuse 2 unfollow me

  • Sbeatriz’s voice is so small and cute
  • holt publicly shaming jake gets me massively horny
  • ‘now do the robot voice’ bitch what the fuck!!! i’m wet!!!!!
  • 'i had large, uh’ 'titties, yes, i remember’
  • who is Daniels? she was introduced along w hitchcock and scully, but never mentioned again. bring daniels back 2019
  • Aaaaaa my muffin! My head! My muffin and my head and I stepped on my muffin and my head and my muffin
  • I’ve talked a lot about jake in my departmentally mandated therapy sessions

“Follow me to the rooftop of the police station… we’re going for a little ride.”

gentlegraceful-and-fatal  asked:

“I…think I’m in love?” (Hinata to Sasuke :3c)

[ Arranged marriage AU starter sentences ]
[ @gentlegraceful-and-fatal ]
[ Accepting ]

     He’ll admit…the council did something halfway intelligent for once.

     At first the notion pissed him off to no end - an arranged marriage? Really? Isn’t that whole concept a little outdated by now…? And what right did they have, telling him what to do? Hasn’t Konoha realized by now he’s done following orders like a lap dog? His brother wasn’t subjected to this! Though…then again, he already had something a little tying before he was even brought back into this mess and into Konoha’s three ring circus.

     …and something tells him they probably won’t bother with Shisui.

     But Itachi actually vouched for the idea, which only made him all the angrier.

     “Itachi, what the f-?”

     “Give me half a moment to explain, and maybe we can save ourselves one of your temper tantrums, Sasuke.”

     “…you’ve got two minutes.”

     Yadda yadda, bloodlines. Yadda yadda, clan alliances. Yadda yadda, Hyūga. Wait…what?

     “It removes you from any inclination of others to try to…snap you up,” Itachi offers, smiling ever so slightly, every so wryly. “Hyūga and Uchiha bloodlines are parallel. It is, admittedly, the best for any odds of creating more Uchiha.”

     “What about Shisui?”

     “…let’s just address one issue at a time, Sasuke.”

     “…you did this on purpose.”

     “I may have promised to rescind my old habits of lying and manipulating…but something told me this would actually work on your favor. Therefor, it doesn’t count.”

     …well, that’ll shut Sakura up real quick. Not that she’s really seemed inclined lately, but…still. And out of everyone, he does…tolerate Hinata best. Maybe even…like her…a little bit…

     “…all right, fine. But I’m going for a lengthy engagement. I still have things to…figure out for myself.”

     “Whatever makes you happy, little brother.”

shegrief  asked:

❝ do the right thing. ❞

* cigarettes after se.x sentences

                                          The   right   thing.

                 It’s   odd,   she   thinks,   how   after   everything   she   has   lived,   there   doesn’t   really   seem   to   be   anything   that   feels   like   ‘the   right   thing’   to   do   for   her.   She’s   heard   that   everything   is   relative,   that   there   isn’t   really   anything   right   or   wrong   in   the   world   –   that’s   a   lie,   of   course,   because   if   there   is   one   thing   she   can   attest   to   is   the   fact   that   the   Lakewood   murders   were   fucking   wrong.   Whatever   sick   idea   came   into   those   two   psychos’   minds   back   then,   there   was   no   justification   for   it,   and   if   Brooke   actually   believed   in   anything   at   this   point,   she’d   wish   for   Piper   and   Kieran   to   be   burning   in   hellfire   right   now.

                                                The   right   thing   …

                  She   hasn’t   done   things   that   are   right   in   a   long   time   –   in   fact,   it   seems   everything   she’s   done   in   the   past   three   years   have   been   nothing   but   bad   decisions.      Self   –   destructive   decisions   that   ended   up   ruining   her   and   people   that   actually   meant   something   to   her   –   ended   up   killing   them.      Decisions   that   made   her   such   a   fucking   easy   target   for   so   many   ugly   people,   she   realizes   now.   She   didn’t   do   the   right   thing   when   she   walked   away   on   Jake   that   night,   and   much   as   it   bothers   her   to   admit   it,   she   didn’t   do   the   right   thing   when   she   hurt   Branson,   because   in   the   end,   it   left   her   feeling   absolutely   nothing   sort   of   satisfying.      But   she   still   did   those   things,   because   she   realizes   she   doesn’t   know   how   not   to   be   self   –destructive   by   now.

                    She’ll   glance   at   Elena   –   nice,   strong   Elena,   she   reminds   Brooke   so   much   of   Emma   sometimes   –   press   her   glossed   lips   together,   inhale   and   hold   in   the   air   for   a   moment,   as   if   that   would   somehow   make   any   difference   in   what   she’s   about   to   reply,   “yeah   …   I’m   not   very   good   at   doing   that,   to   be   honest   …” i  don’t  know  how  to   do   that.

Baron Ninro


Despite the Priest’s gaze having returned to it’s native shade, the Ancient’s whispering remain audible to his Husband and the Monk as they follow him into his Study. When he speaks, several vocal intonations - male and female - echo softly in the wake of his own muted baritone. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you where you stand, Lord Ninro.

Lycan stands off to the side, in a beta posture that telegraphs nothing to either of the other men until he speaks. “Anne wouldn’t–

Not. You.

Biting his tongue, the Guardian nods curtly, straightening his posture slightly as his hands are clasped in front of him.

Standing in front of the Marquis of Nishan, Baron Ja'nin Ninro’s ebony eyes are fixed on the floor, his hands loose at his sides. Despite his humble pose, his voice retains its rich bass eloquence. “No.”

No?” Teren turns slowly to take in the other man’s appearance as the Ancient’s call for Ninro’s soul.

Puul (Puul'h.) Iwhuk'h (h’)Orr'e!

The violet scattering across the Priest’s sapphire eyes is plenty of indication that the Ancient’s influence is in play. Despite the indicator, the Baron remains concilliatory. “I acted dishonorably. If you wish to kill me for sleeping with Annest, I won’t fight you, your Grace.

Lycan’s eyes shift between the other two nobles, his posture shifting to a mildly defensive one as his arms fold over his chest and he shifts his weight in preperation to intercede if his Husband accepts the offer. “Tread lightly, Ja.”

Did you think proposing would erase your sin, Lord Ninro?” Teren asks, as the whispers continue to radiate around him. ’Hai, (Hai!) Ftaghu'h hai!

Shaking his head slowly, Ja'nin lowers his head. “No. I proposed to Annest because my heart is beating in her chest. I laid her down with me because–” His lips thin into a single line; his head shifts in denial again.

Teren stalks forward, only to be intersected for the third time that day by his Husband. “Tell me. Tell me what made you feel fit to take my Daughter like a common whore!

Baron Ninro’s head snaps up, his ebony eyes burning with anger. “That is not what happened! That would never happen! I laid her down because I feared losing her! She asked to do something that… that would have taken her from me, and I–” His voice hitches, then falls once more to silence as his head shifts.

Both Teren and Lycan’s heads snap up, their attentions shifting from one another to Ninro and back several times before their focuses set on the lower noble. “Explain.”


Lycan’s incredulity preceeds the Priest’s. “What?

I will not–

What the fuck is wrong with you?” In a moment, Lycan closes the distance between himself and his Mentor. “Understand something here: You fucked Anne. No Ring. No ceremony. He will fucking kill you if you don’t explain what the fuck you were thinking. I can’t stop him.

Looking up slowly, Ja'nin declines to answer for a third time as his black eyes meet the Guardian’s almond gaze. “Then I will die.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that the Monk would rather die than betray a third party to the situation. Lycan attempts to talk sense into the Monk while his Husband bypasses the other man’s resolve; directing his thoughts to the other person with knowledge of the matter. *What precipitated your… Ja'nin’s change in conduct toward you?*


Anne visibly winces, fingers pushing against her temples. *I did nothing, Father. We were talking about my misconduct with the Count and I was upset I had brought you dishonor and how I wish to make amends with the Count because I know the man is important to Ja'nin. He spoke of how we should wait and prove through my actions I wasn’t disrespectful because to approach him now would only end with the man getting what he wanted… Neither of us wanted that. He was holding me and just it went from there. It was mutual!*


As the Ancient’s reach for his Daughter’s chaotic thoughts, Teren closes his mind off from her. *Calm yourself.*

Turning back to his Husband and the Monk, Teren draws his first calm breath since Ja'nin had requested to marry Annest. “Count Ngu'nye.” He whispers softly. “You remembered his requested concession in order to mend our bridge after Anne offended him…and her request to make peace with him would have entailed a requirement to end your Courtship.” He speaks slowly, sussing out each of the follow-on events until he arrives at the compromised emotional state Ja'nin had almost certainly found himself in thereafter.

A rare display of internal vulnerability fleetingly passes over Ninro’s eyes as he turns his dark gaze on the Priest. “You shouldn’t have involved her!

You should not leave me absent alternative options.” Teren replies tersely as he crosses the room to his bar. Pouring himself a finger of brandy, he’s calm enough to sip the contents, rather than drain the etched crystal tumbler in his left hand. “She has no ring.

I commissioned it when we entered your lands. My people don’t produce items which would do justice in the eyes of others to express my feeling for her.

The Priest’s head hems briefly, then haws a bit before he returns his now sapphire eyes to the Baron. “How long since the–” The Priest pauses, clearing his throat. “Trespass?

Three days.” Ninro murmurs softly, his lips quirking at the corners before he continues. “I felt the sparks inside her this morning.

The explanation puts Teren’s teeth on edge, but he swallows the finely honed blade of his anger with more of the brandy. “How many?

There will be two.

I should eviscerate you. No–” he shakes his head again. “–No, I should castrate you where you stand.” Closing his eyes, Teren takes several slow, deep breaths; his chest tight with the fear radiating to him from Anne through their psionic connection. “But, I won’t.

Ja'nin remains rigid, physically and mentally prepared for whatever sentence follows. It’s the Guardian who sighs in relief.

You are going to leave my home. My lands. You will not return–

No!” For the first time since his humble arrival to their home, Ja'nin Ninro’s posture is assertive, combative. “No! I am here for Anne. For our chil–

SILENCE!” Black energies flare out, slamming the Monk to the ground and Lycan to a far wall. “Anne is my Daughter. Mine. You will leave. You will not return. That is not a request, Baron Ninro. You will wait for my Husband and I to meet with you in Silverlight to discuss if there will be a marriage contract. You will prepare a very generous bride price.” Low menace settles into the velvet baritone sustaining the Priest’s wrath. “If we accept your offer. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?

It isn’t fear that pins the Baron in place, anymore than it is the ebony tendrils. It’s hope. Bowing his head low to the ground, in abject humility, Ja'nin’s voice is a barely restrained whisper. “Yes, your grace.

Lycan.” Teren finishes his Brandy, moving quickly for the door before his temper gets the better of him for a third time.

Yes, Lord Kiden.” Despite their marriage, the Guardian’s instinct remains submissive; a facet of their relationship which serves him well in their sexual affairs but arrives oddly to the Baron’s ears.

See to it that Baron Ninro is removed from our lands. Then… join me.

Yes, Lord Kiden.” The moment the Priest vacates the study, Lycan’s releases a deep sigh of relief, reaching for Ninro as the ebony bindings fade away. “You couldn’t have made that any more difficult?

Finding his feet, Ja'nin glances at the Guardian with a half-hearted shrug. “I do love her. I will bring her all of the honor that remains.

Rolling his eyes, Lycan nods toward Pax, gesturing to her for a portal. “Silverlight.” He explains to the Translocator before addressing the other nobleman. “You have to live long enough for the binding ceremony, remember?

Come soon?

Lycan looks out the door of the Study, shaking his head slowly. “I know your people tend to be philosophers and agnostics, but, if you have anything to pray to? I’d pray we show up at all.

Every day.” The Monk replies, his breath a tremble when he asks, “May I say goodbye? Just… words?

It’s a gamble, but Lycan calls Anne to the Study telepathically. “No promises.” *Anne. Come to the Study. Don’t tell anyone.*

TEREN’S KITCHEN; (Drowning her fear and frustrations in cupcakes

*Okay…* Quickly, Annest finishes her current cupcake before vanishing from the kitchen.


When she arrives at the Study, she finds Pax present, a shimmering amethyst portal open to Silverlight. In the middle of the room, Lycan stands beside Ja'nin, as she enters. The Incubus sighs, nodding for Ja'nin to proceed.

Thank you.

Don’t thank me, Ja. I don’t know how long this is going to take. I’d recommend you act quickly and remain patient. I’ll do what I can from here.

Nodding at the Guardian, Ninro pulls Anne into his arms, kissing her temple as his left arm snakes upward to rest her skull in his palm, his right hand wrapped in a vice-like grip around her waist. “I have to go. I promise, I will come for you at the very first opportunity to do so with your Father’s grace.

Anne rises from the shadows outside the door of her Father’s study, quickly wiping frosting from her lips and chin. Trying to get it all removed before grasping the door knob and slipping in the crack she made, shutting it swiftly behind her. Staring in a measure of confusion and fear but that changes to relief at seeing the Baron at least physically safe.

What is goi–…” She begins but is cut off, hugging onto Ja'nin eyes closing for the moment before giving a small nod. Eyes darting towards Lycan before back to the Baron and buries her face into his chest, breathing in deeply the man’s sccent. “I’ll hold you to your promise, Ja,” She whispers before looking back up to him.

They hadn’t said how they felt - hadn’t needed to - since the first spark between them as they spoiled the food and water stores in retalliation for Lochlyn Kiden’s murder. Not until three days before, and for the Monk, being forced to say aloud what he felt with such small words is a sin. Yet, it’s all he had to offer. “I love you. Remember. I love all of you.” He whispers, one hand drawing back to protectively curve along her still taut belly as he bows his forehead to hers. “And the Twins.

Anne chokes on the words but finally whispers them, “I- I love you too, I’ll never forget.” Her left hand lowers to rest over his own, pressing her forehead to his, “I’ll tell them.” She takes a deep breath and leans up to whisper by his ears, “I still mean each word I said to you. Remember that.” She sinks back onto her heels, smiling.

A rare shine settles over Lord Ninro’s corneas as he nods, kissing her forehead and stepping away from her. Not trusting himself to speak again, he quietly moves through the Translocator’s portal. The portal closes behind him, the Kal'Dorei turning to look at Anne with wide jade eyes as she motions over her toned stomach with a large bump, then points to the young noblemwoman with a questioning lilt of her left eyebrow.

Anne watches in silence, chewing on her lip anew before the Kal'Dorei’s motions. Slowly she gives a faint nod, exhaling a breath she had been holding.

Pax rushes forward, wrapping Annest up in a tight hug, before disappearing with the young Mother to the mansion’s kitchen to celebrate. 

Lycan turns to the door of the study with a long sigh, removing his coat. He throws it onto one of the leather sofas nearby on his way out of the room before exiting. Another might have to ask his Husband where he is expected to meet. All-too-familiar with the sadism conjured by his Master’s Ancients, the Guardian silently braces himself for the violent session ahead of him, unbuttoning his shirt en route to their private suite. For once, he’s grateful Adilynia won’t be joining them.

[ @daughterofkiden, @marquis-lycan-kiden #Baron Ja’nin Ninro ]

slayintm  asked:

❝ nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. ❞

* cigarettes after se.x sentences

                 Nightmares   are   a   constant   in   her   life   by   now   –   in   both   their   lives,   she   has   come   to   realize;   that   she   isn’t   the   only   one   who   suffers   constant   reminders   of   things   she   wishes   she   could   just   let   go   of.   Things   he   knows,   however,   she   doesn’t   deserve   to   let   go   of,   and   that’s   the   thing   about   the   issue   –   by   now,   Brooke   has   come   to   acknowledge   that   this   will   be   her   burden   to   carry   for   the   rest   of   her   life,   and   that   the   only   way   she’ll   get   to   numb   the   overwhelming   pain   that   brings   waking   up   every   night   in   screams   and   cold   sweat,   is   to   simply   drink   it   all   away,   until   nothing   matters,   only   for   one   night,   only   for   a   while.

               She’s   not   alone   anymore,   though   –   or   so   she   deludes   herself   into   thinking,   because,   oh,   everybody   leaves   in   the   end,   one   way   or   another.   Story   of   her   life.   But   Sam   has   become   a   pillar   in   her   life,   something   to   hold   onto   and   cling   to   and   never   let   go,   because   she   can’t.   Clingy,   stupid,   yes,   but   by   now   she’s   come   to   realize   she   needs   the   brunette   by   her   side,   in   more   ways   than   one.   Perhaps   because   she’s   an   odd   mixture   between   the   three   people   in   her   life   who   grew   to   mean   the   most   to   her,   perhaps   because   she   feels   as   if   she   doesn’t   have   to   pretend   everything   is   fine   around   her   -   -Sam   doesn’t   expect   her   to,   Sam   encourages   her   not   to,   and   to   Brooke,   that   means   the   world.

                 Her   words   are   soft,   comforting   –   they   are.   Uttered   as   calloused   hands   weave   through   honey   –   colored   locks,   breathing   has   managed   to   slow   a   bit   more   as   the   minutes   pass   and   they   just   lay   there,   the   sound   of   the   other   girl’s   heartbeat   brings   a   soothing   tranquility   to   her   she   has   decided   to   cling   to,   the   warmth   and   familiar   scent.

                                          Nothing’s   gonna   hurt   you.

               “you’re   cute   when   you   call    me    baby … “  She   feels   stupid,   weak,   but   she’s   seen   Sam   fail   to   cope   too,   and   that   actually   makes   it   a   bit   easier   for   her   to   show   herself   like   this.   Fingers   have   finally   uncurled   from   clinging   to   the   sheets,   palms   sting,   surely   sore   by   this   point,   and   she   brings   her   arms   to   wrap   around   the   brunette’s   frame,   legs   tangle   around   her   too   –   a   desperate   survivor   clinging   to   a   lifeline.

                                                   “   …   promise   ?”

anonymous asked:

Suddenly the Raven Prince and the nightingale getting along makes a lot more sense

Hmmm. But did they genuinely get along though?

Originally posted by excitementshewrote

Here’s the thing

Lance doesn’t have to be a farmer forever just because that’s what he’s doing when he’s 20. Honestly, with how s8 went down, I think it makes sense for him to do this for a while. He’ll take a couple years to heal with his family and have a routine.

After that I think that he’ll pursue a line of work involving children. Like maybe he’ll an interplanetary study abroad program for kids to learn about other alien cultures.

Idk, I really see Lance taking some time for himself and then doing something that involves adventure and kids. That’s just me.

The paladins are going to live long lives and do many things. What the epilogue told us isn’t static.


The view from my little attic apartment is astonishing sometimes (photo by @theia-achlys)
What Remains - ashamtly - Shadowhunters (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland
Additional Tags: Angst and Feels, Post-Canon, maybe? - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning, Minor Original Character(s), POV First Person

“Pictures can be lost and erased, stories fade away, memories be forgotten, so, in an effort to not let him share the same that so many have in the past, in an effort to keep him with you…”

(It’s been 500 years, and someone’s still trying to hold on)

anonymous asked:

multiracial anon from before - really appreciate your willingness to listen, it means a lot! :) honestly the word "hybrid" being canon is just one symptom - the problem is the often-racist attitude sutherland and (especially white) fandom have towards multiracial people. as others have stated, unlike warrior cats where the clans are just social groups, dragons being the same species but organized by shared physical and cultural characteristics is explicitly a race metaphor. [1/3]

and that means all the weight that comes with it. you’ll notice a relative lack of fandom obsession with “exotic funny-looking inter-clan kittens.” that’s not a coincidence. [2/3]

as for words to replace “hybrid,” only thing i can think of atm is “multi-tribe” but someone suggested “multiwing” in replies and that’s cuter… but honestly i don’t know that there should be a hybrid tag? looking through it all i see are either (metaphor-veiled) racist comments, or things that could just as well be covered using their respective tribe tags. but you may want to get the opinions of some other multiracial fans, as i can only speak for myself. thanks for listening! :) [3/3] 

like for aknadin to visit your ask box –