#also thinking about journals written during plagues. where they would sit outside and breathe in the cold air because they thought it'd hel

[kinfusion]

the snow makes me wanna see snow in the town on gorkhon

[viren-reader-love]

What would you think about doing one where there is a Pentarchy-wide conference of dark mage guild chapters, and the reader is a fellow mage from another country. Viren and Reader don't meet often, but when they do, they predictably end up drinking, arguing vociferously over the details of their methods, and ultimately hooking up. This occasion is no exception.

There you go! I had a lot of fun writing this :D

Hope you like it.

(Ao3 link)

.............................................................................................................................

Devil or angel? I can't make up my mind

Which one you are, I'd like to wake up and find

Devil or angel, dear, whichever you areI miss you, I miss you, I miss you

Devil or angel, please say you'll be mine

Love me or leave me, I'll go out of my mind

Devil or angel, dear, whichever you are

I need you, I need you...

===

The salty air refreshed your lungs. In the distance, hues of green added color to the crystalline blue infinitude of the ocean.

"Land ahoy!" yelled the first mate, watching the horizon from atop of one of the ship's poles.

"Aye!" Replied the captain, turning the hem. You felt the ship move to the right as it approached the island ahead with a new speed. 

Clutching tight to your shoulder bag, carefully not to lose the precious relic that it contained, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach. You knew Viren would be there and this simple fact made all those memories resurface. 

Every Mage Fair was the same. Excessive drinking, followed by vociferous arguments about your conflicting opinions and different methods to understand dark magic that, somehow, always end up with you and Viren waking up in the same bed.

Well, not somehow. You knew exactly why it happened. No matter how many lies you told yourself during the invariable hangovers that followed, the attraction you felt for Viren was too strong to be labeled as unintentional, or a simple drunk mistake. 

Despite everything, you were starting to get attached.  Why? Was the only question in your head. Why him? 

Romantics will say it is because opposites attract each other and write countless verses of the ardent passion they can ignite. But they forget about the ugly parts that come afterward. At least that was how it had been for you.

The fair would end, Viren would escort you to the pier and you would sail back to Evenere with only a simple goodbye. No last kiss, not even a hug. And the days that followed were even worse. The letters you would exchange were made by cold and impartial words concerning your duties as High Mages, nothing more. 

As the ship approached the bay, you took one deep breath mentally making a promise to yourself. 

This had to end. 

Today was the day things would change.

===

New faces from all corners of the five kingdoms passed by. The smell of spices and delicious food perfumed the gentle summer breeze and everything was a cacophony of colors, laughs, and songs. 

Elaborate stands dotted the hills as far as the eye could see, each signboard announcing something more interesting than the last. Fireball contest, Antiquery Boutiques, Mirrors of Illusions...

Your feet stopped in front of The Blushing Troll - Bar and Inn, where you and Viren would predictably end up after the Pentarchy High Mage reunion. Despite being only the beginning of the afternoon, the bar was crowded and a line was forming on the outside. 

The large door opened and you spotted Agata, the barkeeper, dragging chairs outside to accommodate her costumers. "Hey, y/n!" she waved.

You smiled walking to help her with the heavy chairs.  "Hi, Agata. Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too friend. So, rumor has it that Evenere will blow our minds this year," she winked gesturing to your bag. "I'll prepare a big celebration. Want me to save the romantic suite for you and your hot boyfriend. Or you'll stay at the usual room?"

Your cheeks turned scarlet, knowing fully well she was referring to Viren. "For the last time, he is not my boyfriend."

Agata cackled. "Alright cookie. And I ain't a barkeeper," she playfully punched your shoulder. "See you two tonight alright?"

It was no use insisting on this topic. Agata could be as stubborn as Viren sometimes, so instead, you chose to focus on your earlier promise and said goodbye, resuming your walk to the meeting point where the other High Mages were expecting you. 

===

Two guards stood like statues before the imposing construction that marked the entrance of the Pentarchy Meeting Point. 

"Hold. Present yourself," one of them ordered, gesturing for you to stop.

"Lady y/n. High Mage of Evenere," you said, giving the guard your invitation sealed with Evenre's royal symbol.

The guards then stepped aside, giving you free passage to the seemingly endless white steps that lead to the Meeting Point, located atop the tallest hill.

Almost out of breath, you finally arrived. Burgundy flags with the bright red symbol of Dark Magic hanged over the five chairs, binding the kingdoms, so vast and diverse, with one common interest. 

All the other four mages were already in their sits, except for Viren. "Lady y/n," he bowed. "So glad that you are finally here. We are all very anxious to see what big surprise you have for us," he said with his usual charming tone that made your knees go weak. 

"Well, then I won't keep you waiting any longer," you managed to reply with the formality this situation required, despite the memories of your hot nights with Viren flashing before your eyes.

Walking to the center of the room, your gaze was still glued on him as you began your speech. "Fellow mages, today is a historic day. For generations, dark mages across the five kingdoms used the knowledge passed down by our ancestors to improve humanity's ways. We no longer suffer from famine, deadly plagues or fear the threats that come from Xadia. And, as I'm sure you all know, this was only possible due to the struggles of one man: Ziard ."

The mages of Neolandia, Del Bar and Duren hummed in agreement, but Viren listened to you thoughtfully and you smirked, certain his not easily impressed frame would melt away soon. 

"Everything Ziard new about dark magic was written in three journals. Two were found by Lord Viren but the third was destroyed when Ziard was brutally murdered by Sol Regen. Or so we thought," you paused.

Reaching for your shoulder bag you retrieved a leather journal,  worn-out due to the merciless time. "Here, I present you the last journal of Ziard."

Gasps emerged from the other members, but Viren's reaction was priceless. Even if you hated to admit, you adored his enthusiastic face.

He darted up. "May I?" he gestured to the book and you nodded, letting him take it.

"That is remarkable," Viren mused, carefully turning the thin yellow pages. "Imagine all the secrets it contains, all the lives we could help with this! I don't know how you manage to locate it, but congratulations y/n."

His sharp frame softened when he said your name and for a moment, you thought your head was deceiving you with his sudden kindness. Did he-- did he just complimented you?"

However, this moment was short-lived as Viren continued to speak. "It was about time Evenere did something to contribute to this Dark Mages society. Katolis will be forever grateful for your donation."

"What?!" You said offended.

"Of course! Surely you didn't think the journal would stay with you. Once I return to Katolis I'll provide copies for you all."

"How dare you?! I found it, therefore it's staying at Evenere. You can have the copy," you replied, blood starting to boil. 

"The journal belongs to Katolis' archives, with the other two originals," Viren took a step forward.  Not intimidated, already accustomed to this type of argument, you took a step as well.

"Katolis is not the center of the world Viren. It can not concentrate all knowledge about dark magic."

"So we must hide it in the depth of the swamplands?!"

"Fellows, fellows!" the mage from Neolandia caught both of your attention. "There is no reason to start a war over this. I say we vote to decide who keeps the journal. All agree?"

You two nodded, heading back to your seats but never letting your intense glares drop.

"Now, all of those in favor of the journal staying in Evenere, please raise their hand," declared the mage and to your astonishment, only you voted in favor.

===

With large gulps you drained the beer from your large mug, slamming it against the balcony of The Blushing Troll.  

After your glory was snatched from your hands, you had to sit through the rest of the afternoon and watch Viren and the other brag about their discoveries and theories and, of course, Viren had to bring a three-dimensional presentation. Again! 

Mind in a frenzy, fuming, doing your best not to let rage overtake your actions, you powered another drink and turned back for the hundredth time to see Viren, also drinking and enjoying the evening with the other High Mages. 

"Look at him," you said to Agata, "so full of himself. Think he's the greatest mage that ever lived. Bet two silver coins that after a few shots, he's going to start crying and saying he loves them."

You moved to fill your sixth...seventh cup? But Agata stopped you. 

"Alright cookie, that's enough for tonight," she said, taking the mug from your hand.

Ignoring her, you snatched a bottle from a random person, taking another big gulp. "This was supposed to be the year of Evenere. This was supposed to be my moment," your drunk nagging continued, "he already has Zirad's staff and killed the king of the dragons. Why can't he let me be on top for once."

"Huh, interesting," Agata tilted her head, looking at Viren as well, "he always seemed like a bottom to me."

"No, totally. Bottom confirmed. But--" you shook your head, realizing where this conversation was going. "Focus Agata. Ok? Focus. I'm being wronged here."

"Cookie, are you sure the journal is the only reason you are mad?" she asked with a kind, motherly tone. 

Yes, you were mad about the journal. Heavens know how hard it was for you to find it, and letting this relic be part of Evenere's public archive would be good for the local mage community. 

But there was something else, a deeper feeling that intricated like a spider web, trapping you in it. 

You were caught between the duality of strongly hating and desperately wanting to cave in to his charms. Every time your gaze found him your body screamed. It begged for you to kiss him, to have him underneath you right now. To bury your face against the side of his neck and just nuzzle in it. To hear his moan, paint and gasp against your ear as your hips rocked and his hands squeezed you tight... 

Yet, every time your head would also say no, remembering how cold the morning after could be. How he would treat you like a stranger and how every little thing was reason enough for a fight. 

It was like being on fire while still being frozen. 

"I just don't know anymore. I think it's best if I called the night." 

Getting up, you asked for the keys to a room, not caring if they were the usual, or the special suite, or just the keys to the storage room. You just wanted to lay down, close your eyes and wait for this terrible day to end.  

Stumbling down the corridor, spiling your drink everywhere, your weak legs betrayed you. You see the ground coming fast, but only a second before the painful impact, a pair of strong, familiar arms held you.

"For heaven's sake, how many drinks did you have?" Viren's face twisted, probably smelling the intoxicating smell of booze that you weren't sure anymore if it was yours or his.  

Your hands tried to break away from his embrace but, instead, they just staid there, feeling the curve of his muscles.

"Just a--" a hickup cut your words, "just a few. I'm fine."

"I have never seen you this drunk. You are not fine," Viren insisted. You squinted, trying to discern if his face was actually worried, or was your vision that was getting blurry. 

And right when you were about to repeat that you were fine, nausea crawled your throat. Arching, you stained Viren's boots.

"Means nothing," you pointed a weak finger at him while wiping your mouth with the hem of your sleeves. 

Viren huffed. "Alright. Let's get you out of here before you ruin somebody else's boots too." Sliding his arm under your legs, he then carried you bridal style to the Inn of the Blushing Troll. 

===

Sitting on the toilet, face slouched on your palms, you watched Viren take a tiny bottle containing a thick pink fluid from his side pocket.

"Drink it," he ordered. "This potion will stop your nausea."

"I know what a sickness-killer is," you replied snatching it from his hand. The thick fluid descended your throat like honey, immediately extinguishing the bubbling feeling in your stomach.

Viren raised a brow at you. "Feeling better?"

Out of spite, you crossed your arms and looked away. "A little too sweet for my taste. I prefer my version of the potion."

He scoffed. "Unbelievable. I get out of my way to help you and this is how you thank me? You are even more annoying when you are drunk."

"If you despise me so much, why are you doing this??" your tone was deadly serious and a heavy silence fell. 

There was a tremor in your hands as your heart pumped hard against your ribs. Your eyes stared at him, frightened of Viren's response yet eager to hear it. 

But Viren's features were a conflicting mixture of gapes and choked words.  And anger sneaked into your blood like poison as the silence increased. Yanking your hands into his shirt, you brutally pulled him closer.

"Answer me," you growled. Noses almost touching, Viren's hot breath mingled with your fuming. "Answer me!" you repeated.

Viren slumped, burying his lips in yours. His fingers dug into your hair as your mouths moved wildly, kissing each other hungrily. He started to pull you forward, guiding you out of the bathroom.

When your legs hit the bed, you climbed over him.  Lust pulsed throughout your entire being as Viren laid beneath you, staring back with the same need.

"I'm going to rip that answer out of you. I'm going to make you say it." You said before kissing him again. Tongues plunging, sliding deep while hands ran along every inch of your bodies.

Going lower Viren hurriedly helped you unbuckle his purple broach and remove his vest. He started to pull his black shirt up, but you stopped him. Pushing his arms over his head, you let them stuck there, exposing only his chest and face. "Keep them there," you sensually said. 

Leaning, you brushed your mouth against his but denied another kiss, moving to suck and bit the side of the neck.  Your skin shivered as it brushed against his beard.

Viren started to push his hips up, moaning quietly in your ear. You moved to remove his boots, pants, and underwear and your whole body blushed at the sight of his throbbing cock, curled, touching the base of his stomach.

You just... stared at it. 

"Y/n..." Viren said your name in a weak cry. 

"I think I should leave you like this," you said with a devilish smile.

"WHAT?!" It sounded more like a sign of desperation than a question and you simply love it. 

"It's what you deserve anyway..."

"Y/n!" Viren started to hustle, trying to take his shirt off but you quickly stopped him, mounting him again. 

"You're not moving until I hear you say it." You repeated. It was hard to control your urgers to stripe your clothes and just own him, ride him until he came undone.  But you simply had to hear him say it. 

If he loved or hated you, you simply needed to hear it. 

You began to move up and down slowly. Your pants grinding against his erection provided a blissful friction.

"You terrible...ahh!--ssstubborn...aaah--sssexy wonderfull," Viren managed to say between his heavy pantings, "I--I"

Your body increased the seep and an animal sound escaped him. "I need you I want you y/n please!" 

Finally, the words came out of him in a desperate begging. Not being able to hold your desires any longer, you yanked your clothes off. Viren untangled himself from his shirt and adjusted himself on the bed. Grabbing you by the waist, he put you back on top of him, shoving his cock inside you.

A deep moan snaked out of your throat as you felt that gratifying pressure. You laned forward and between sloppy kisses and pantings, both of your hips moved, going deeper, harder. 

“That’s it...come on...so good...," you said, gaze glued on Viren's wobbly, melting face. 

"Y/n yes....I need you...AH!" 

As your bodies attacked each other, stripped from all pride and shame, you reached sheer ecstasy. "I'm yours..."  you whispered, mind in another plane, every nerve like a bolt of lighting as Viren also gasped in his orgasm.  

Resting your foreheads together,  still interlaced, you both relearned how to breathe, letting the hotness of your climax slowly fade. 

===

The morning came. A sharp pain smashed against the walls of your skull like an angry tide, and the rays of sunshine were enough to burn your retinas as you waited in line to bord the ship that would take you back to Evenere.

Even with this cursing hangover, the events of last night played clearly in your mind. Every action, every word. What remained unclear was the truthiness of it all. 

Wich was why you didn't wait for Viren to wake up. You couldn't take him saying everything was another drunk mistake again. It would hurt too much. 

The plank fell with a heavy thud, bridging the pear to the boat. But before you could take another step, you heard Viren's voice calling for you.

"Y/n. Wait!" 

You never thought you would see Viren in such a state. The browns and whites of his hair were tangled in a ridiculous mess of impossible angles, his beard, once neatly in place, was now all fuzzy and puffed. His shirt was wrongly buttoned and the lace of his boots still undone.

"Viren what on earth are you--" 

"Stop," Viren raised his hand. "I need you to just stop and listen without interrupting because if you do I-- I don't think I'll ever regain the courage to say this again."  There was a deep fragility in his gaze and his voice didn't carry the usual confidence. Worried, you let him take you to an isolated corner.

After a deep inhale, Viren continued. "Y/n, what I said last night, about wanting you...it wasn't just the reflection of alcohol. I, really, truly want you.   You understand magic in a way so different from mine. But it is challenging, it is exciting! And when the realization of my feelings for you finally came, I panicked. I was scared to have someone new in my life. Because in these last years, all the people I ever loved seemed to get hurt. My wife, Queen Serai... Harrow. Even my relationship with my son is falling apart!"

Viren closed his eyes, breathing deeply again before holding your hands. "I was scared that if I brought you into my life, I would somehow end up hurting you. So I tried to push you away but it was so, so hard. Every time we met I just wanted to hold you, have you next to me. And it was in this fruitless attempt to protect you that I ended up hurting you even more. It was stupid I know. Can you ever forgive me?"

Your hands moved to gently cup his face. Viren easily leaned forward and your lips met in a kiss. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that a thousand words could never be. Viren's hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your fingers ran down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left. The soothing sound of the ocean mingled with the beating of your heart, strong and passionate. 

Pulling away, you looked up and Viren's frame was renowned.  There was joy, and you could feel the love that played in his subtle smile and soft gaze. 

"Does that mean you will stop criticizing my way to do magic?" Viren asked.

"Only if you promise me you won't bring another three dimensional for the next year's fair. That trick is getting old Viren."

"It's my trade mark."

"No, it's not."

"How about we discuss this at breakfast?" Viren suggested. "Maybe we can plan a presentation together. Perhaps travel in search of another relic for Evenere..."

"Yes. I would love that," you replied.

So hand in hand you two head back the Blushing Troll. Things had finally changed and you knew, for now on, it wouldn't be easy waters, but for Viren, you would continue to sail, both ready and excited for the start of this new chapter in your lives.

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Harper! You have been accepted for the role of Elias Deere (FC: RJ Mitte). Elias is a tricky character to understand. Is he truly vengeful, or just hurting deeply? How far does his hatred towards his father go? You have written him so thoughtfully and sensitively - reading your application made us both go oh, yes, they’ve got it. We also loved the inclusion of his disability and your faceclaim change is thoroughly magnificent. The plots to come are going to mesh so well with how you’ve written him that we can hardly wait to see what happens! Altogether, your version of Elias is beautiful, poignant, and subtly melancholy. Thank you for bringing him to life. As per your notes we are only accepting you for Elias. Let us know if you’d like to be reconsidered for your other application! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Harper Age: 19 Pronouns: They/them Timezone: MST Activity estimation: I’m a pretty busy college student who has managed to get so involved I don’t know when I’ll breathe during this next semester. I’ll be on the dash as often as I can, but that will likely be limited to weekends and evenings. Triggers: [Redacted]

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Elias Deere Age (23/04/1978): 18 Gender: Cismale Pronouns: He/him/his Sexuality: Homosexual Occupation: Clerk at the Arcade Connection to Victim: He’s in the same grade as Beth and David Goode. He doesn’t know them particularly well but in a town this small, everyone now knows about the Goode family, even someone like Elias. Alibi: He was working at the arcade. He’s the only one employed there right now, and so the task of keeping an eye on everyone that comes in falls to Elias. He needs every penny he can get so guess who never turns down a shift. Faceclaim: RJ Mitte

WRITING SAMPLE

Elias knew what his classmates said about him. He was quiet and people never seemed to remember he’s there when they start talking, as long as he doesn’t say anything. It hurt, of course. To be considered odd and perverse when one presses flowers in journals and writes poems about this knotted town. It’s been his own curse to bear, one that’s been carried silently over many years.

But now, Brian was missing. And Elias was afraid.

He remembered Max Acosta. He remembered the trial, the questions Elias had that went unanswered and how easily the problems were swept under the rug, because here was an answer, handed over on a silver platter. He had followed the case almost religiously a few years after, horrified by the concepts and yet intrigued by the mind behind it. He had nightmares for months afterwards. And now it was happening again, and this time, he was the odd one out.

It was a paralyzing kind of worry, the fear that one day one of the other kids at school would say something, point the finger, share one of those lies again and then the police would be at his door and there would be nothing Elias could do, nothing but nod and sign where they tell him. It haunted his steps and hid in the shadowy corners of sleep. Never did Elias think his heart, his love of words, and his inability to abide by the standards of high school might send him to jail for the rest of his life.

Who would lift a finger to stop them? Not the majority of the school. Not Elias’ father. It was a trap, one impossible to escape from any side. The only thing left to do was hope it all went alright. But when has anything here gone right?

Elias pushed his plate away with a sigh. It was one of the few tables in the diner that was tucked far enough away from everyone else that he seemed to blend into the background, wheelchair sitting beside him ready to carry him away as soon as it all became too much. But it was quiet in that little corner, the buzz of everyone else fading into a dull noise that was hard to hear over the music.

It was as close to peaceful as Devil’s Knot ever really got for Elias.

Elias let out another sigh before opening his bag and bringing out a small worn notebook that practically fell open along its well-worn spine. Devil’s Knot was all he had to write about, for now, and even if he kept the details sparse, there was still a veritable flood of material to make use of. Now was not the time for darkness and tragedy though. There was enough of that around the town for now.

Instead, with a furrowed brow and his tongue between his teeth, Elias wrote about the bird outside the window, how the sun turned his feathers from blue into a small piece of the sky and how it sang to a little kidnapped boy.

The song would echo through the woods, picked up by more and more mouths until it was a virtual symphony calling a lost boy home. The more birds sang, the more concrete the song became, until it grew into a woman with feathers in her hair and laughter in her eyes. She walked into the woods and walked out hand in hand with a little boy. That little boy would walk into town with a smile, not a scratch on him. He’d laugh and play ball, ride bikes and make jokes. The entire horrible story ended because of a bird.

Elias couldn’t stop the smile that formed when he set the pencil down. It was complete fantasy, of course. A complete impossibility, more in line with a fairytale than the world Elias inhabited. But sometimes, people needed a little hope and a little light in the dark times they all lived in. No one would read anything Elias wrote, not for a long time, but it helped him to know he had done something.

He stood, leaving behind the money for his burger, before sitting in his wheelchair and replacing the notebook in the bag. He left the diner and began to make his way home. There was still a story to tell, of course. One Elias just didn’t want to write. Brian wasn’t back yet and whatever happened would be something for the ages. Elias just prayed he wasn’t going to find himself the monster of the tale.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Alibi Elaboration: You’d expect a lot of problems in a place like the arcade for someone like Elias. But that is, for all its flaws and constant thrum of people who would prefer to forget the clerk exists, one of the few true spaces Elias has complete control over. Yes, it pays like hot garbage on a summer’s day, but it’s his and Elias likes to look after his things. He was absolutely there when Brian went missing. He loves that place for all it’s flaws. He can just be himself in those walls and there is almost no way his father would ever step foot in a place like that. It’s a perfect haven.

Headcanons:

Elias’ favorite poets are Yeats and Frost. He personally cannot stand the gothic and romantic genres and refuses to touch either, as he doesn’t like how poetry was written in that time. He tries to avoid a lot of structure in his own poems, but he is always an absolute sucker for a good rhyme.

In any given day, Elias goes out of his way to avoid any prolonged contact with his father, preferring to do whatever it takes to get away from him in as short a time as possible. This means he will smile, nod, and agree with whatever Jeff is saying just so he can leave as soon as possible. Confrontation is not in Elias’ nature. Avoidance is, especially around someone like Jeff. How on Earth could Elias ever stand up to that man? It would take a miracle for that to happen, to lend him the strength and the will to say “no, I am not the problem here.”

Elias has a bit of a strained relationship with religion. He knows how important it is to his family and he’s seen the art and the strength that it can bring about. But he also can’t forget about the horrors it’s caused over the centuries and how much of it is a lie crafted by men like his father to keep control of the sheep. Of course he wants to believe in something greater and stronger than himself, but sometimes the only things strong in the world are his chair and the words of people just like him. He’d never share his doubts, afraid of how that would reflect on him, but they are growing each and every day.

Kids are great. You know exactly where you stand with them and there are never any surprises. They tell it like it is and don’t bother spreading rumors. They just tell their suspicions to your face. They’re simpler than Elias’ peers and he enjoys hearing the blunt, ridiculous things that come out of their mouth. Of course, most kids don’t give him the time of day and the ones that do don’t linger for long. Those with older siblings avoid Elias like the plague, but none of that has stopped Elias from promising himself to never turn away from a kid that needs help or a friend. He knows what both of those feel like and he can’t imagine leaving someone small and vulnerable face the cruelties of the world alone.

He hates spicy food. Please don’t make him eat anything hotter than a bell pepper. His taste buds can’t handle it and then the town will have a crying Deere on their hands. It’s just not worth it.

He says he loves people and he means it. People just have to convince Elias they are worth the attention and effort he will inevitably put into their relationships. He doesn’t have it in him to have a lot of friends, but the ones he does have will be rapidly prioritized on his mental list of important things. If a friend of his is sick, he’ll show up with a store-bought cake ready to watch cartoons. He knows what it’s like to have a body that hates you sometimes so he’s there to lend a hand however he can.

No, you cannot push his wheelchair. Please don’t ask.

He doesn’t advertise it, but he has several plans all lined up in his head for revenge on people that have made his life extremely difficult. They’re never going to be brought to fruition, but it helps when the bullying gets bad to have an idea of vengeance. And who knows, maybe one day the camel’s back will break and all those ideas will come flooding out.

Pinterest Board: https://www.pinterest.com/boopbot/elias-deere/