#“you thought we were solids did you? what an insult born of ignorance”

[thelongestway]

One thing I like about following contemporary soundtrack music is that sometimes you start a new movie/game, and you like the soundtrack, and even the parts of it that you don't like somehow sound very familiar... And then you realize you've been vibing to this person's music since you were like 12? This specific shoutout is for Kevin Manthei

[fandomsaligninstories]

Year Two: A Bit of Draco

Chapter List

WC: 1,405

10th November, 1992, Tuesday

As it would turn out, the entirety of the Hogwarts staff was quiet about the latest petrification. That didn't stop the students from talking, though.

Word had gotten around that the boy, Colin Creevey, had been petrified. More than half of the student body was afraid, worried about who could be next. Colin, as had been revealed, was muggle-born, so rumours and discussion over the Heir had started becoming louder and harder to ignore.

Violet remained solid on her stance; neither Harry or Draco were the Heir. By Tuesday morning, she found herself defending both boys to her friends. Most, if not all, of the Hufflepuffs were convinced it was Draco. Though a few, including Hannah and Ernie Macmillan, thought it was Harry.

The more time went on, the more Violet grew frustrated with her friends. They began to argue over the subject, to the point that Professor Sprout had to separate the girls in Herbology that morning. They didn't speak at all during lunch, and Potions class was uncomfortable as Violet, Hannah, and Aimee had been paired up for the day.

By the time Violet arrived at the library at three that afternoon for her lesson with Draco, she was in a sour mood. She could hardly stand to be around anyone else, as her frustration was beginning to overwhelm her and she was worried she'd lash out at someone.

Draco was already sitting in the back of the library, at the same table as Friday. He was looking over the assignment they had due in Astronomy later that evening when Violet stomped up to the table, throwing her bag onto an empty chair. He looked up, startled. He watched as she sat in the chair across from him, her scrunched up face telling him just what sort of mood she was in.

He hesitated a moment before asking, "Want to talk about it?"

She looked at him then, her face relaxing slightly, "Surely you don't want to hear about my troubles."

"Not really," He leaned back, willing himself to appear nonchalant, "But I don't want your bad mood to affect your tutoring me.”

She rolled her eyes, "Unless you can convince my friends that neither you or Harry is the Heir of Slytherin so they'll stop arguing with me, there's nothing you can do to help."

Draco had to recite the words in his mind several times to convince himself she'd actually said them. Then, when he finally let the words sink in, his posture straightened and he stared at the girl in shock.

"What's that look for?" She asked, glancing at him as she pulled out a few books and notes for their lesson.

He still wasn't fully convinced he'd heard what he thought he did, "You... You argued with your friends? About me?"

"Well, you certainly aren't defending yourself, now are you?" She snapped.

"You defended me? To your friends?"

Violet finally focused her attention on him at his dumbstruck tone, his expression matching.

"Right, sorry. I forgot, I'm supposed to hate you and claim you're evil, or whatever." She rolled her eyes, "I defended Harry too. Despite everything, I don't believe either of you are the Heir. You might both be a bit daft, but I don't think either of you is capable of releasing a monster that's petrifying muggle-borns."

Draco couldn't get over it. This girl- a girl he'd insulted for the past year and a half- had defended him. She'd fought with her friends to claim his innocence.

"Why would you do that?" His tone was harsh, "For all you know, I am the Heir. Maybe I did open the Chamber of Secrets, hoping it would eradicate the school of you filthy-"

"Are you finished?" Violet interrupted, pretending his words didn't sting, "We've only got a few hours before dinner, and we have Astronomy tonight, so I'd really like to get some studying done."

Draco blinked dumbly at her. She really didn't believe he could be the Heir? Godric knows half the school was convinced it was him. The entire Slytherin house all but celebrated him for it. He couldn't find the will to keep arguing with her, though. For whatever reason, he knew that it was pointless, that nothing he could say would poison her against him.

For the entire session, Violet had to ignore the fact that Draco was staring at her. There was no malice in his eyes, only hesitant curiosity. She could tell her words had shaken him, but she wasn't sure why. Had no one ever believed him to be anything other than evil before? Was she truly the first person to believe he was innocent? The questions nagged at her for the rest of the evening.

━━━━━━⊱༻ ༺⊰━━━━━━

The rest of the week was just as awful. Between not talking to her friends, the other houses gossiping, and any class shared with Slytherins, Violet was feeling more and more alone. The only person she could really talk to was Cedric, who was adamant in not taking sides, and even talking to him was hard.

Whenever Violet would complain about Hannah and Aimee picking a fight with her, Cedric would simply tell her to "give them time". Well, she didn't want to give them anymore time, she wanted her friends back. Unfortunately, she wasn't ready to forgiven them for how rude they'd been about Draco.

She spent quite a bit of time thinking about why she felt so protective about the boy. She rationalized it as he has no one who stands up for him, aside his housemates, and even they do it for all the wrong reasons. She truly believed he was innocent, no matter how often he claimed to hate muggle-borns or how foul he spoke of them.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts, Violet was forced to sit in the back of the class, alone, as she didn't feel comfortable sitting next to her friends. Draco, who sat at the table in front of her, looked back at her frequently.

She kept her head down the entire hour, her focus on the book in front of her. Something for Herbology he guessed, judging by the drawings of plants on the cover. She often had a Herbology book on her, reading whenever she had the time. He'd noticed that the previous day, during History of Magic, when she had the Herbology book sat in her History book, promptly ignoring Professor Binns.

Draco was beginning to notice more and more about the girl. He, like Violet, wasn't sure why he held a particular fascination for the girl. Somehow, no matter where they were, his attention would find her. He tried not to think about it, but as he found himself watching her in D.A.D.A, he wondered about her.

He wondered if she was still fighting with her friends over him. He wondered if she continued to stand up for him, no matter how many insults he hurled at her. He wondering why she didn't hate him, when so many others did.

Draco decidedly didn't like how sad and angry she'd been all week. He hated that he felt this way, especially over some Hufflepuff who was likely only helping him because she pitied him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the unfamiliar ache out of his chest when he thought about it…

When he thought about how he'd seen her crying in the hallway before Astronomy the previous night, after her friends ignored her on their way into the tower. About how she barely ate at meals, and how the table was so quiet when she sat down. About how she'd become so quiet whenever someone would try to talk to her, especially that odd Ravenclaw girl with long, white-blonde hair. Or, the worst of all, when he'd find her staring at him, with glassy, absent eyes. That he hated most of all.

Draco didn't know how to handle this new feeling. He couldn't even identify it; he knew it wasn't anger or resentment. No, he'd felt those often throughout his childhood. It wasn't disappointment or sadness, something else he was used to. It wasn't jealousy or envy, as he certainly didn't want to be in her place. So what was it?

His answer would come later in the evening, when he was on his way to the library for their tutoring lesson.

━⊱༻ ༺⊰━

TAGLIST:

@stellarlune-love

[luna-writes-stuff]

Hey I saw that your asks are open for Fili and Kili. I was wondering if you could do a fic or hc about Kili were he falls for the reader and tries to flirt with her but makes her laugh instead. He gets flustered and embarrassed.

Stupid Things, Kili Durin

first fic I’ve published so far and I was nervous???? While I’m literally writing a book????? So technically it’s nothing new????? But still?????

Fic, female s/o

Tw: misread signs? Kili being insecure? Flirting?

For Kili it was as clear as the sky on a warm morning in July; when you first caught his eye, he had grown absolutely smitten with you.

His mother had told him thousands of stories growing up. On how dwarves were once born in pairs, yet separated after years, forced to find each other in another life where they might not even remember their One. These stories had always held hope for Kili, even as he grew beyond the age of being called a dwarfling.

His beard had never truly come out and his hair had not once adorned braids, causing others to make fun of him, claiming he had not been a true dwarf. He felt silly holding onto the hope of finding his One, yet he could never bring himself to forget it. No matter how much life opposed him at times.

And the moment he met you, he had been glad he never gave up.

Every little detail of that day had been imprinted on his mind. From the way you wore your hair to the outfit that adorned your body. He knew you were his One. His mother told him exactly how she felt upon meeting his father, and even though the words always made Kili gag, he now knew she had never been exaggerating.

The whole journey he tried to gain your attention, but whenever you spared him a glance, he always shrunk back, afraid you’d reject him as his kin once had.

Fíli knew what was going on when Kili refused to joke around with the other one night. He had not been as blind as their company. He had spent days trying to talk some sense into his brother, claiming you had liked him as much as he liked you, but - unfortunately -, Kili had inherited his uncle’s stubbornness.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Kili grew some courage. You had opened up to the company more, giving him more conversational topics and shared interests. And it had gone well for a while; the two of you got along amazing, never once disagreeing or ignoring one another. And all those talks encouraged Kili to show you he truly cared for you. More than any other has had before.

You grew more teasing and joking amongst each other, finding weak links and soft spots, never failing to make each other laugh. And it gave him courage, until - one night - his bravery overtook him. You had been talking like any other night, when he zoned off, not listening to a word you said anymore.

Instead, he had been trying to find the words he had repeated in his head the entire day. But as your eyes rested on him, he could no longer remember what it was. You were so breathtaking you made him forget his pickup line.

Just then, you were quiet, searching his face before letting out a joyful laughter.

“I’m flattered, Kili.” You began, resting your hand on his shoulder, leaning over in laughter. “Could you not have told me we were doing pickup lines tonight? I would’ve prepared myself.”

He had said it out loud. And he hadn’t even noticed it. He didn’t even know how much you had heard.

“It it hot in here or is it just you?” You retorted playfully, but when Kili made no move to laugh, you slowly stifled your laughter. “I know, that one was horrible. I should’ve been prepared.” You defended, letting go of his shoulder.

You may not have noticed it, but Kili’s brain just ran on short circuit. His entire face he heated up and he was sure it would leave a red glow. His ears felt as if they were on fire as his mind just kept repeating the same words over and over and over again.

How could he do easily let these words slip past his lips? And he didn’t even know how to respond to you. Had you been making fun of him or were you reciprocating his flirtatious attempts? Perhaps he should just walk off before more damage could be done. Should he say something? Or would it only make it worse?

“Are you still in there, Kili?” You asked, snapping him out of his daze, your hand in front of his face, trying to get his eyes to follow your fingers. When his eyes finally made contact with yours, you let out a relieved sigh.

“I thought I just broke you with a stupid sentence.” You explained, leaning back against the tree, your hand slowly lowering.

“I’m sorry for letting my mouth walk free like that.” Kili apologized, now looking back down on his lap, insecurities taking over.

You might not have picked onto his true intentions, but you knew whenever someone did not feel comfortable. And right now, Kili looked as if he could bury himself six feet under. Which may have been true if you would have asked him.

“Don’t apologize. It was sweet.” You concluded, shifting your place so you would be seated next to him. “Though I do not know whether you were joking or not.” You admitted, resting your head on his shoulder.

And at that moment, Kili felt his heart skip a beat. He had heard many people say that the feeling of a skipping heart felt foreign yet welcome all the same, but never once had he experienced it. And now that it happened, he knew why people described it like that.

His entire body froze in that exact moment. Should he lean his head against yours? How should he place his legs? Could he hold your hand?

“Yes, you can hold my hand, Kili. Though, you do know it’s just the two of us, right? You’re not talking to someone else.” You mumbled, already reaching for his hand.

His eyes followed the trail your hands made, as if they could snap up any minute. Yet, as they came into contact with his, his body finally relaxed.

“How much did I say?” He whispered quietly, almost scared of the answer.

“You asked me if you were allowed to hold my hand.” You explained, now looking back up at him. Your face had no longer held the joyeus wrinkles it had before, seconds before laughing at his statements. It was laced with worries and doubts. Not for you, but for him.

“Are you okay?” You carefully asked, afraid you’d had been overstepping some form of boundary.

“You make me do stupid things.” Kili spoke, the sentence flowing out as if it had been on his tongue the entire time.

“Thank you?” You answered hesitantly, not sure whether he was insulting you or compliment you.

It seemed as if Kili could sense your doubt, because his explanation follows not long after. “Not wrong stupid things. Just….unfamiliar stupid things.”

“You’re familiar with a lot of stupid things?” You wondered aloud, your head back on his shoulder, happy to have found some form of solid social interaction again.

“You’d be surprised.” Kili spoke.

“Perhaps the two of us can find a way to correctly discover these unfamiliar stupid things.” You hinted, gently squeezing his hand, making Kili’s heart skip yet another beat. It was a feeling he could get used to. It had not been unpleasant, only surprising, yet he could not find himself ever getting enough of it.

“Beg your pardon?” He asked, not catching the meaning of your words, now entirely focused on your hand in his.

“Fili was right. You are dense.” Now anxiety krept up on him again. What had Fili said? Question circled back around in his head, insecurities settling in again.

“You spoke with Fili?” He nearly managed out, his clothes suddenly feeling uncomfortable warm.

“More like, Fili spoke to me.” You admitted, looking up at the nervous dwarf.

“What did he say?” Kili wondered, no longer beating around the bush. “Nothing that made sense.” You reassured, not sure why Kili suddenly became so closed off again.

“But we could figure out together.” You tried to hush, doing your best to soothe the situation. And it seemed to work. The minute Kili looked back at you again, his eyes were filled with relief instead of doubt.

“Only if you want to.” He stated, finally squeezing your hand back. A verbal answered was not received by him. Only a satisfied smile and a content nod. No intention was made for you to move, and you truly didn’t feel like it. You found a comfortable spot and would not move again until Kili decided you should.

And Kili would never say so. In his eyes, you could’ve stayed there all night and he couldn’t have cared less. He was just relieved that the tension was finally gone, even if it went unnoticed by you. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad with you by his side.

[roselen-mylady]

the game

"First one to kiss Thor wins." Wanda suggested. Y/n tried to hide her scoff but judging by Nat's elbow in her ribs, she hadn't been successful. "Come on, Y/n!" Wanda groaned, rubbing her forehead in frustration. 

"Oh, you come on! What? Are we going to play 'would you rather' after?" Y/n joked, earning yet another jab from Nat. The two red heads glared at her annoyed but Y/n didn't care as she took a sip of champagne.

Pepper had convinced Tony to hold another party in hopes of boosting the team's morale and while it wasn't the first time he'd done it, the parties were still enjoyable. Y/n couldn't help the enthusiasm and joy that came with drinking, dancing and mingling. Everyone came, at least everyone she knew, along with a hundred other people Tony knew. Even Peter had started to attend the last few parties, granted Tony only made him a frequent attendee once he'd reached 18.

The parties were fun, yes, but still being the drama and excitement addicts they were, Y/n and her closest friends craved the thrill of their little games. They played them at every party. The first was a simple game of truth or dare and the second had been the cliche spin the bottle. But with each gathering their dares and games grew more and more risky. And Y/n loved it. They all did.

But tonight was different.

Tonight was boring.

"You're just upset that Bucky didn't want to make out in the closet with you last time we played." Nat accused. A deep frown settled on Y/n's lips from the stab at her pride but she quickly waved off Nat's insult with a dismissing hand.

"That's because he knew I was drunk off my ass. I didn't really wanna make out with him either, he's my friend. You know what alcohol does to me." She argued, getting a short disbelieving nod from Wanda in return.

"Uh huh. Or maybe cause he knows you're into his best friend." Nat suggested, sipping her own drink with a smirk as she narrowly dodged Y/n's threatening hand. Wanda giggled at the interaction, knowing there was truth behind Nat's words. She had seen into Y/n's mind and her fondness toward Steve practically screamed back at her.

"I'm not into Steve. The man is too self righteous for his own good and you know I'm into bad boys." Y/n shrugged, her attempt at hiding her feelings becoming transparent in her friends' eyes.

Yet before either of them could argue further and perhaps bring up the kiss she almost shared with Steve during spin the bottle, Sam and Bucky arrived. "Who's into bad boys? You've come to the right place ladies, I'm the baddest of them all." Sam flashed a charming smile to which they all rolled their eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but I think Bucky has you beat on bad boys." Y/n challenged, sending a playful wink toward the soldier. Sam gasped, mocking hurt while Bucky rolled his eyes rather unamused with the discussion.

"That's right, weren't you the second shooter in the JFK assassination? That's gotta be as bad as it gets." Nat commented causing a dark flush on Bucky's face. A short flash of guilt appeared on his face but he instantly brushed the comment off deciding not to dig into his cloudy memory for the truth. The second shooter was just a conspiracy theory anyways. But then again, so was the Winter Solider...

"What are you, a cop?" Bucky let out a strained chuckle, bringing his drink to his lips subtly trying to pull himself from the conversation. Y/n offered an apologetic smile and he returned it gratefully before she turned her gaze away.

Despite his closed off nature she'd actually become a sort of friend to Bucky and while at first it was rocky, she rather enjoyed her friendship with him. Through Bucky she heard stories about Steve when they were growing up and she saw another side of him that she wished she'd known.

"You ladies up to another game?" Sam questioned suddenly. Nat nodded sharing a look with Wanda but Y/n's focus had been drawn away. While lost in her thoughts about him, her gaze had drifted to the man of her fantasies and she shamelessly watched as he talked with Tony and another man she didn't care to remember.

He was smiling, a sight that she cherished even if he'd never notice. The blue of his eyes seemed to shine brighter than any fireworks she'd ever seen and her heart skipped a beat just looking at them. His blonde locks had grown out while she had been snapped away but not enough to make him appear drastically changed. In fact she wasn't sure if anyone else had really noticed. Maybe she was just a stalker.

"Well, we were going to play one but Y/n thinks it's not big enough." Wanda replied, giving Y/n a glare as she turned back to the group.

"Well, it wasn't. I feel like everyone's used to our shenanigans so there's no challenge." Y/n shrugged, peering at the others with a bored stare. Sam shook his head, refusing to let the tradition die.

"What did you guys have in mind?" He asked, looking over the three women as they glanced around the party.

"Wanda suggested a competition to see who could kiss Thor first." Nat explained. Bucky scrunched his nose in disdain at the dare, exchanging a exasperated look with Y/n.

"Thor would do anything, if you asked him." Sam sighed, drinking whatever liquor he had requested. Y/n remembered him saying something about woman being attracted to a man who can handle hard liquor but she had chosen to ignore him. Though she did have to admit it must've been hard for him to compete with both of his best friends being able to drink without the effects of the alcohol they consumed.

"That's what I thought! Thor would gladly abide anything if it made us happy. He's too kind for his own good." Y/n playfully rolled her eyes as they looked over to said god. He had slimmed down significantly during his time with the guardians and Y/n could almost swear that there wasn't an ounce of body fat left on the man. His hair had been cut as well, returning to his signature length and his beard had been trimmed down to a reasonable length. In other words, the Asgardian had almost every girl swooning once more.

But Y/n was swooning for another.

The same man she had for years.

"We could make it more of a challenge." Nat proposed. The group turned to her with interested eyes, the only one who hadn't seemed to match their intrigue being a very grumpy Bucky. "We could expand the dare to all Avengers. Unless you guys wanna be pussys and limit it only to men." Nat winked.

Wanda's face flushed at the suggestion and quickly shook her head. "I have a hard enough time kissing the people I've known for years let alone all the new Avengers." She squeaked. Sam chuckled nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, not that you guys are pussys I'm just saying that is a lot of people. That'll take forever. Let's just stick with Avengers pre-snap." Sam's laughter grew at Y/n and Nat's disappointed expressions, having reaped them of the extra challenge they'd been searching for.

"How about this?" He began realizing without a catch the game wouldn't be that much fun for any of them. "You have to get them to kiss you but only using cheesy ass pick up lines." Sam explained, looking rather proud of his game plan.

"What type of kiss?" Y/n questioned suspiciously.

"Any." A buzz of laughter and eagerness flooded over the girls and Y/n smirked knowing she'd been born for this challenge. "Are we all in agreement?" Sam asked looking to each for affirmations. Once everyone was on board they put their hands in the middle, a sort of ritual they had developed as a way to insure everyone's commitment.

But another presence had been added to their usual group and they turned to Bucky to see what he would do. He had never been on the scheming side of the games and usually was a victim but now he had a choice. Though he'd rather be removed from the plan all together he figured he'd might as well get it over with while he still knew what was happening.

"Yeah, alright but I'm not doing make outs. You guys do your lines or whatever, get your kiss, then I'm out." Bucky told them, putting his vibranium arm into the middle along with the rest. With childish grins on their faces they let their hands fall as Sam stepped forward.

"As per tradition, you all start off with a good luck kiss from moi." Sam explained, putting a dramatic hand over his chest as he turned to Wanda. She scoffed at his attempt at charm allowing him to peck her lips with a teasing smirk. Turning to Nat, he hesitated allowing her to quickly kiss him, learning the hard way that coming onto her was an easy way to get a black eye. The smack of her lipstick made Bucky shake his head, his 40s mindset unable to grasp how easily they'd all accepted the concept.

Sam then turned to Y/n, noticing the way she subtly glanced in the direction of Steve as his arm came around her waist. "Looking for someone? Cause your prince charming is right here." Sam flirted earning an eye roll from the woman before him.

"I thought we were supposed to do the crappy pick up lines." Y/n raised a brow, keeping a hand on his chest to get some distance.

"I said cheesy not crappy. I'm offended." He frowned playfully only to have it wiped off his face by the soft peck of her lips. She pulled away just as quick, slipping out of his hold and shaking her head.

"Oh, how will you ever recover?" She replied sarcastically, making the girls laugh quietly beside her. He smirked turning to Bucky.

"Alright, Buck. Let's get this show on the road." Sam announced patting Bucky's shoulder roughly as he urged him forward. Surprisingly Bucky seemed more nervous than he did annoyed so Y/n decided to take the lead this time, stepping closer to the brunette.

Deciding to keep it simple for Bucky's sake she trailed her fingers along his forearm, giving him a gentle smile. "Hey, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back." She spoke smoothly. Sam cackled behind them but Y/n paid no mind instead smiling back at Bucky as he chuckled softly, grateful she hadn't used one of the dirty lines he was sure she had.

Shaking his head he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of her lips. Though he made it seem like he was annoyed by the games he was forced into every party, he found Y/n made them more enjoyable, being one of his only friends.

"Go on. You better win since it's your fault I'm a part of this." He grumbled and Y/n laughed, nodding before running off to claim more lips.

On the other side of the room a certain blonde had caught sight of her, his eyes narrowing slightly in interest as Tony leaned closer to him. "I think Y/n's playing another one of those games. I swear that girl is going to be the death of me. Let's just hope Morgan stays innocent." Tony mumbled, bringing his glass to his lips as he surveyed Steve's expression.

"Yeah." Steve replied dully, his focus directed at the only girl in the room he couldn't keep his eyes off of. Tony smirked knowingly, deciding he'd allow Steve to ignore him just this once.

•••

Y/n had this in the bag.

Thanks to Sam she had a wide range of pick up lines to try out and she planned to use the right one with each.

The first person she recognized in the crowd was T'Challa and she made her way to him slyly, his gaze falling on her as the crowd parted. "Ah, Ms. Y/n. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He questioned, a bit of mistrust in his eyes when he recognized the smirk on her face.

"Just seeing how my favorite pussy cat is." Y/n replied with an innocent shrug. He squinted suspecting her ulterior motives. He'd been to enough of Tony's parties to know that she along with Nat and Wanda usually had some kind of game and while he was entertained by it he also knew he needed to maintain decency being a King.

"He is very happy you're here to make things interesting. He was just telling me about how boring this party was. Also he was telling me he should ask you when you're going to bring Peter to Wakanda, that boy won't get off my back." Shuri spoke up, stepping closer to the pair with a pleased smirk. T'Challa didn't seem to share her amusement but knew most of what she had said was true.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I have to be in Wakanda next week, I'll see if he's free to tag along." Y/n replied, turning her gaze to the spider boy. He still seemed to follow Tony around like a lost puppy but Y/n hoped maybe their field trip to Wakanda would break him out of his shell.

"Would it be wishful thinking if I hoped your visit to our kingdom is the only reason for your presence now?" T'Challa questioned. Shuri and Y/n laughed answering his question. There was another game going on. "What's the challenge now? Let me guess, I should be expecting Ms. Romanoff and Ms. Maximoff next?"

"More than likely. But there's a twist this time." Y/n explained, noticing the bit of curiosity in his eye as she sipped her drink. "If you like my pick up line, you have to give me a kiss."

Shuri giggled next to them excited to hear whatever line Y/n had planned. The young princess was always up for some mischief especially if her brother was the victim and this was what made her adore Y/n so much.

"And what if I don't?"

"I'll just have to try again, I suppose. You know how persistent I am." Y/n winked. T'Challa shook his head, catching sight of Wanda across the room having already collected her kiss from Thor. With a silent sigh, he turned back to Y/n figuring he'd best not hold her up any longer.

"Fine." Y/n smiled, locking eyes with Shuri for a moment before turning back to T'Challa. She stepped forward, the soft click of her heels sending a chill down his spine as she put a hand on his upper arm. Her lips curved into a smile and he braced himself for the line that seemed to bring her so much pride.

"Meow you doin'?" Y/n smirked, her voice smooth as velvet as her eyes stared into his. Laughter erupted from his sister and he turned to her as Y/n burst out into her own fit of giggles.

"I don't get it." T'Challa told them, dumbly trying to use the little bit of context he was given to understand the joke.

"Oh, brother! As soon as we return home we are watching Friends! Now give her a kiss so that she may have a chance at winning!" Shuri spoke through laughs. T'Challa shook his head but lifted Y/n's hand nonetheless and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"I feel cheated." He grumbled but the laughter from both girls was enough to take his mind off the pick up line that went straight over his head.

"Pleasure doing business with you, King T'Challa." Y/n curtsied before turning away to find her next victim, leaving T'Challa and Shuri with entertained smiles.

Next on her list was Bruce Banner, the most lost out of all of the men who had experienced the game. The first time they decided to target just one person, he had been the focus and while he enjoyed Nat's kiss, Y/n and Wanda following in the act seemed to put him in a daze for a week.

"You got T'Challa right off that bat? Sometimes I hate how good you are at this." Nat's voice cut into Y/n's thoughts as the two stood together surveying Bruce.

"There's nothing to it, my friend. Give a line, get a kiss. It's science. Did you already get Clint?" Y/n questioned, trying to see where she was at as far as the competition went.

Nat shook her head softly, glancing over at the other men they'd still needed to kiss. "No. He's not here. He says he wants us to take his retirement seriously so until then he won't be at the parties, I guess." She explained and Y/n nodded quietly. One less guy to convince, she reasoned.

"You know I'll never get used to his transformation thing." Y/n commented, gesturing toward Bruce with a nod. Nat followed her gaze, leaning into Y/n to see past the crowd of people in front of her.

"Yeah, me either." She replied. Y/n's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she glanced at Nat through the corner of her eye but ultimately decided it wasn't something she really desired to question further.

"You better save your best pick up line for Steve." Nat warned, the smile on her lips all too knowing for Y/n's liking. Her mouth ran dry and the familiar rush upon hearing his name coursed through her making her face burn.

"For the last time, I'm not into-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Too bad though. He's been watching you ever since the game started." Nat whispered, turning Y/n's head in his direction with a poke to her chin.

The red on Y/n's face grew darker at the sight of Steve looking back at her, his eyes locking with hers over the rim on his glass. A soft shade of pink settled on his cheeks to match her own and his gaze faltered before returning to the man he'd been talking to.

"Save the best for last." Nat teased softly as Y/n turned back to her. She tried to brush off Nat's words as she stalked off toward Bruce but she couldn't get the image of Steve out of her mind.

Had he ever looked at her like that before? Was she losing her mind?

A long sigh escaped her as she tried desperately to focus on racking her brain for any science puns she had.

"Y/n! Hey, long time no see!" He cheered, pulling her into a side hug. The laughter that bubbled out of her chest was involuntary as she practically disappeared under his good arm.

"It's nice to see you too, Bruce. How's the arm?" Y/n questioned gesturing to the cast that seemed to be permanent on the larger than life limb. Bruce offered a tentative shrug, looking down at it.

"Tony and I aren't sure if it's ever going to heal. He's been looking at the possibility of getting a prosthetic but I don't really mind it. We beat Thanos, that's all that really matters to me." He replied. Y/n smiled kindly at him, putting her hand on the cast as her fingers trailed Steve's signature. She couldn't help the racing of her heart when she realized he'd signed right below her own.

"So, Nat tells me you guys are doing another game. Why do you guys do that anyways? Don't you get embarrassed?" He asked, genuinely interested. Whatever Nat had told him seemed to make him more aware and Y/n found herself open to his questions.

"I don't know. I trust everyone on the team so kissing them isn't a big deal. If anything I think it makes us more open to one another. Not to mention half of us are touch starved and probably need a kiss every so often." She laughed thinking back to her poor Bucky.

Bruce laughed too, "Well, maybe next party you'll find a way to get everyone to play. That'll be a sight." He chuckled imagining everyone competing against one another in some intimate game. Y/n nodded perhaps taking the suggestion maybe a bit too seriously.

"Maybe...I've gotta win this game first though. I'm sure you know the rules." She raised a playful brow and crossed her arms. He nodded remembering Nat's line with a loving smile. "Good. Let's see."

Her hand rose to her chin, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as she thought. Bruce watched with a entertained smile as her eyes lit up before looking back at him.

"Hey, baby. If you were an enzyme I'd be a DNA synthase so I could unzip your genes." She nudged Bruce's side making him laugh.

"That was the worst." He chuckled and Y/n laughed as well, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, but you laughed so..." He nodded wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head, the most accessible spot from his outrageous height.

"I'm gonna remember that one." Bruce told her, his head bobbing unconsciously as he already began practicing the line in his head. Y/n bowed proudly before disappearing into the crowd once more.

"Who's next?" She mumbled to herself, running her hands along her dress, absentmindedly flatting the bunching in the fabric. The dress had been her favorite, hugging her perfectly as many of the tailored clothes Pepper sent her did. But this one was different.

This one was blue. But not just any blue. It was the same dark navy Steve wore on every mission. A color she found herself buying more often, whether it be on a folder or on a dress. She was almost attracted to it as much as she was to Steve and while it seemed a little silly, it made her happy knowing she could express her hidden feelings through little things such as that. She truly was head over heels but she could never tell him that. She could never risk the rejection she feared she'd be met with if she dared make a move.

So she loved him from afar.

•••

"Oh no. Not pick up lines." Tony groaned next to Steve, his eyes nearly disappearing into the back of his head as he rolled them. Sam chuckled, nodding his head.

"It's true. Everyone is going to get hit on in the most undesired way possible tonight." He grinned, his lips still buzzing from the kisses he'd recieved.

"Yeah, you have bird brain here to thank for that." Bucky grumbled from Steve's left. Sam frowned, glaring at the semi stable hundred year old man.

"That's not what you said when you kissed Y/n." He retorted.

Steve tried to fight the jealousy that boiled in his gut but Bucky had already noticed the frown that reached his best friend's face.

"Only because I want her to win. She's my friend." Bucky explained, hoping his emphasize on 'friend' would put Steve at ease but the super soldier would never truly be at ease unless he had her in his arms.

He'd lost so much over the years including her and now that he had it all back-had her back, it felt wrong that they weren't together like he hoped. But he couldn't just tell her. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if he lost her in a way that no infinity stones could reverse?

"Personally I'm rooting for Wanda. That girl's smile would make you wanna kiss her. Not to mention her mind control stuff." Sam argued, using his hand to mimick Wanda's powers.

"Is this going to happen at every party?" Fury remarked from behind them making them turn to him, some with annoyed glances.

"You're not allowed to say anything about this, 'Mr. Off-Limits'." Sam proclaimed, feeling a tad responsible for keeping Fury out of the games. Especially after what happened last time.

"I won't be forced to partake in childish games like that. Y/n had it coming." Fury explained, any remorse he might've felt long gone.

Steve crossed his arms, his shirt tightening around his arms as he tried to bite his tongue. "You nearly broke her arm." He suddenly spoke up. Sam's suggestive smirk made him regret it instantly but thankfully Sam chose not to say anything.

"Gotta admit. Her resolve is pretty firm. It's actually pretty hot." Sam wiggled a brow at Steve. The poor blonde wanted to curl up and die in shame but Sam wasn't wrong.

Perhaps it was her determination and strong will that had attracted him. They were characteristics he was known for as Captain America but yet somehow her will was more powerful than his own.

It was one of the many things that he had loved her for. And one of the things that kept him going during the five years without her.

"Ugh. Can we please not talk about my niece like this?" Tony groaned, hating the idea of them sexualizing the girl he'd practically raised since she was a teen. Steve agreed, unsure how much longer he'd be able to stand them talking about her.

"Ooo, look. She's onto Thor now." Peter piped up pointing a finger toward Y/n as she made her way to the golden haired god. Yet the warning glare he received from Tony was enough to make him quiet again and he silently sunk back into the crowd behind them.

"I've got too many kids."

•••

"Thor!" Y/n cheered. Upon hearing his name, the Asgardian turned returning her smile with a brilliant grin. The flask in his hand was opened yet there was no flush to his face signaling he was either only mildly buzzed or close to it.

"Lady Y/n. I was beginning to wonder when you'd come around. I do cherish our time together." Thor's smile was kind and radiant but she couldn't help but think there was still one smile that could outshine even that of a god's.

"Oh, you know I'd never miss a kiss from you." Y/n returned the charm, allowing his arm to come around her waist, resting at a comfortable distance from her hips. Thor had been the most accepting of their games and never seemed to go through the confusion that the rest did. Or maybe that was just her.

"I was just telling Valkyrie of your little games. She finds them truly amusing. Perhaps I'll convince you to accept her into the tournament." Thor explained, gesturing the hand holding his flask toward Valkyrie.

"Well, it's not exactly a tournament, just a little fun to keep things interesting. You're welcome to join if you're up for it." Y/n smiled, offering a small nod of acceptance toward the warrior woman.

"A competition among women where men are the victims? Sounds like my kind of crowd." Valkyrie replied, an excited smile landing on her lips as the two woman shared a look of mutual approval.

"Wonderful." Thor praised, the joy in his tone seeming to radiate off of him, infecting Y/n with each passing second she was in his grasp. "Now Lady Wanda spoke of this night's challenge. I believe you have a suggestive comment in which to lift me yes?" He spoke, looking down at Y/n as she began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Yes, Thor. In return for the pick up line, I get a kiss. But only if you enjoy it." She recited the rules earning a heartfelt smile from him in return.

"If it is spoken by you I'm bound to enjoy it." He told her earnestly. There was something in the way he would speak that made a girl's knees weak and while Y/n was able to withstand it better than most, she wondered if he was striving for that reaction from her.

Y/n shook her head at him, giving him a half-hearted glare as she looked up at him. "Alright, here it goes." She warned him, taking his attentive gaze as a confirmation to continue.

"Hey, gorgeous. Was your father a thief? Cause someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes." Before Y/n could even offer a wink or a smirk, thunderous laughter sounded from the man beside her, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

A flush of pink bloomed on her face, slightly embarrassed under the eyes of so many, especially Steve, yet she wasn't able to dwell on it for long as she was swept up into the air. Ever the enthusiast, Thor had excitedly boosted her into the air and spun her before allowing her feet to reach the ground again, a little unsteadily from how fast he'd acted.

"You've certainly lifted me, Lady Y/n." Thor told her, bringing her smile back as she regained her balance. "Are you ready for your kiss now?" He inquired, his hand resting comfortably on her waist as he insured she was still willing to welcome a kiss.

With a small nod she leaned up accepting his lips in a teasing yet modest kiss not unlike the one they'd shared before. They pulled away a moment later, smiling at each other as Thor's hand easily slipped away from her waist.

"I'm afraid I must send you off in order for you to return victorious." Thor said, a hint of reluctance in his tone yet in a taunting way similar to friendly banter.

"And that I shall. I'm the best, you know." Y/n declared. Valkyrie laughed beside her, lifting her own glass toward Y/n in a sort of cheers.

"For now. We'll see next time who's the best." Y/n clinked her empty glass with Valkyrie's nodding respectfully as she made a note to get more champagne.

"May the best woman win." Y/n smirked, oblivious to the eyes on her as she walked off toward the bar.

Part Two

[be-ace-write-crime]

Lovely Bride - Third Wedding Night

Only one pillarman left who's trust you'll have to win more than any other. Unfortunately Kars may be your greatest challenge yet. You woke up having no idea how much time had passed, but you knew for sure you weren’t in the same bed. The single candle by your bedside was on a different table and these black silk sheets were not the ones you had buried your hands in when Esidisi made love to you last night. Also the light of the candle only reached the one wall the table and the bed were set up against, meaning this room had to be bigger than Esidisi or Wamuu’s rooms.

“You’re finally awake.”

The level, indifferent voice of Kars breaking through the quiet darkness made you jump, sitting upright in the bed, sheets pulled up to your chest.

“It’s only me,” he remarked, stepping into the light so you could see him. That put your mind at ease a little, but not completely. Of all the pillar men, Kars still scared you. He had a calculated coldness about him that overshadowed his more human side, which you had only caught glimpses of.

“Good morning,” you murmured, for lack of anything better to say. “Lord Kars,” you quickly added, bowing your head.

“It’s evening, actually,” he said, giving you an amused smile as he came to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning in close. You naturally pulled back upon having him enter your personal space, but with practically nowhere to go you just pulled the covers up until you were almost hiding like a child. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

You considered the question. You weren’t hurting anywhere. You considered how you were feeling emotionally and your barely awake self quickly dropped that hornet's nest and decided to ignore it for now. “I feel fine, master,” you answered.

“Good. You may go out if you wish. You may sleep here as well. I rarely do. I have no intention of consummating our marriage with you tonight. Enough damage has been done to you already,” he said.

You felt a slight sting upon his dismissal and couldn’t keep your mouth shut. “What do you mean by damage? You were the one to suggest Wamuu be my first…”

“I did, but I didn’t expect him to be so careless I would be asked to abandon my work in the middle of the night to rearrange your insides after you had fallen unconscious. Nor did I expect Esidisi to bring you into his bed and do the same thing,” he answered, sounding and looking obviously annoyed. Your eyes went wide and he chuckled dryly. “What? Didn’t you find it strange to awaken without a hint of pain after laying with a pair of gods, little one?”

“I did… a little… I didn’t know you’d had to…” you trailed off, cheeks burning.

“Esidisi brought you here, covered in blood, which thankfully turned out to be his, at least mostly,” he said, cupping your cheek and looking into your eyes as if he were searching for something. You held his gaze, like a deer facing headlights, until he spoke again. “He asked if I would consider giving you the antidote now,” he said, which made you perk up, but his expression remained unreadable. “I will not allow you to die, but you won’t receive the antidote from me just yet,” he answered, which made your heart sink.

“M-May I ask why…?” you whispered.

“As it stands that ring is the only thing binding you to me. I am not prepared to give it up. Not yet,” he responded.

“You have my word,” you said, clutching your sheets a little tighter. Kars shook his head, unmoved, but his eyes softened somewhat.

“Perhaps I could present you with something else to show you my trust? Stand up,” he ordered, standing up himself. You could feel your face burning with embarrassment as you stood before him, naked as the day you were born.

He gently tipped up your chin and kissed your lips and you relaxed thinking that was it. You should really know better by now.

“Don’t flinch, just breathe,” he ordered softly, and before the meaning of those words could register in your brain you felt a stabbing blow right to the center of your chest, knocking all the air out of you. Your eyes went wide and you fell into his arms, trying to push him off at the same time as if it might give you more room to breathe.

Your husband stood over you, studying your reaction and drawing back his hand. He’d just about stabbed you with his pinky, forcing all the muscles in your chest to contract, and you couldn’t fight this reflex, desperately attempting to force breath into your aching chest to no avail.

Teary eyed you fought to draw air into your lungs, all your strength focused on the singular task until you were finally rewarded with the blissful feeling of air flooding your lungs, chest expanding and your extremities tingling as your oxygen was finally replenished.

Kars reached for you and on reflex you slapped his hand away, once bitten, twice shy. To your horror your hand striking his left a large, blistered mark, like you’d shaved off the skin with a burning hot razor. He looked as surprised as you that you’d done it, looking at you with wide eyes. He regained his bearings more quickly than you, smirking and licking his wounds before they healed completely, as if they had never been there.

“I’m glad to see you so lively, but try not to do that again,” he warned you.

“I-I’m sorry, lord Kars! It won’t happen again!” you declared, bowing your head. Still the warmth like sunlight shining from inside kept radiating from within you.

“I studied the scrolls you brought back. Much trivial history and things we had already learned firsthand about your tribe, but this here struck my interest. A means to awaken one’s latent Hamon abilities,” he explained, taking a pitted grape from the basket Esidisi had collected for you and placing it in your hands. The pit sprouted in your hands in the complete darkness of the catacombs. “If the sun is half as bright and wonderful as you, my love, then every second we spent in darkness will have been worth it,” he whispered.

You looked down, awestruck. You’d seen some warriors forcing already budding flowers into bloom to impress girls before, but this seemed far beyond that. Probably since Kars just awakened your powers, you assumed, but you were glowing with excitement nonetheless.

“Get dressed. You are free to practice in both your healing and combat as you see fit. I have much left to do and as night falls Esidisi, Wamuu and I must depart in our search for the stone,” he instructed, tossing you a small bag from the side table behind your basket.

“Y-Yes, thank you, lord Kars…” you said, quickly taking the clothes from the bag and figuring how to put them on. You were surprised to find the soft, black garments to be a two piece set in a similar style as what your husbands preferred to wear. It provided solid covering for every part that really needed it, with translucent silk draped lavishly down your legs like a loincloth, giving the illusion it was only a dark shadow protecting your modesty underneath, as it left your legs clearly visible.

You combed your hair and arranged the jewelry Kars had added to the bag to match, blushing madly. A prostitute would not have dressed so daringly in your little village, and you could feel Kars’ eyes on you like a predator watching its prey. Thankfully Esidisi had left you your dagger and its sheath, which you attached to the waistband of your new attire.

“I wanted you to have this, as you are one of us, but I trust I won’t have to tell you not to let any humans see you like this,” he said, taking the last item from your hands and placing it on your head. It was an elaborate piece of gold chains, coming together around your forehead with a teardrop shaped diamond charm.

“I won’t, master,” you said, face red, yet feeling oddly beautiful. It struck you that he could not have stolen or bought garments like these anywhere and they seemed to be fitted to your form perfectly, meaning either he commissioned this specifically for you, or he had made you these himself. The thought made you shiver, right as his fingers carding through your hair found the shell of your ear, tugging lightly at the lobe.

“If you’ll allow me, I would like to pierce your ears. Perhaps somewhere else as well?” he purred, making the shivers intensify tenfold. “Hmm, but not tonight. I have kept you here long enough and I have things to do before night falls.”

“Yes, master,” you said, taking your candle and your basket. Kars turned around to retreat back into the darkness, most likely to some kind of workspace you couldn’t see. Hopefully you could spend some time with him just before dawn when he returned. For now you would enjoy the sunset and a little snack, one of your private pleasures which you unfortunately couldn’t share with your husbands.

You weren’t sure where you were, but you noticed you were more sensitive to the vibrations around you as you wandered the underground halls. You slowed to a stop and rummaged through the basket, picking up the bottle of wine and a silver chalice cup, pouring to just below the rim and studying the ripples in the vessel carefully.

You also fully planned on drinking this later. Never mind you had just woken up, it was evening and you had reasons to drink. The more you watched the surface, the better you were able to read the ripples as it were. You could sense Kars in the room behind you, heavy footsteps of Wamuu and Esidisi above you, and several things… skittering all around.

One was getting closer, approaching, but hovering just outside the light of your candle. As you moved, it moved with you, stalking you almost.

“I know you’re there,” you called out to it, now a good ways away from Kars’ room, but not knowing if you were any closer to the stairs or not.

“It’s a bit early to be drinking, isn’t it, (Y/N)? Though I suppose it doesn’t matter when you plan to live as a spoilt, drunken wench, just like your mother,” a raspy vampire voice sneered, dropping from the ceiling and stepping into the light.

“What the…” you muttered, less fazed by the insults than you were by this vampire speaking to you, let alone speaking to you like that! You were their superior, although you had yet to put that claim to the test. This one didn’t seem too impressed by your status.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Debauching yourself for the monsters that murdered our kind?!” the vampire hissed, prowling closer to you.

“I am doing what you people asked of me. Meanwhile you are one of the monsters that murdered our kind,” you responded, backing away slowly. You had the candle holder in your dominant hand, the chalice in the other. If you dropped the candle, you’d be in the dark, but you could reach for your dagger. If you dropped the cup, you’d still have the light, but you’d fumble with the dagger in your nondominant hand. You could cry out for help, but this vampire was close enough to be in the light of your flame and it would only need a split second to rip your throat out. It didn’t have to drain you of blood. It wasn’t cornering you just because it was hungry. This one had a grudge against you.

“Don’t provoke me, you disgusting little witch,” he sneered, still coming closer while you backed away. You prayed someone heard you. Your husbands, some other vampire looking to get in their good graces, but you could sense nothing. You weren’t sure how far their supernatural hearing range was, but clearly underground it wasn’t far enough.

Fear was messing with your breathing, making it shallow and weak. You hadn’t trained your hamon, barely knew how to use it at all, and even the faintest sparks of it died as you were almost hyperventilating.

“I don’t even know who you are,” you murmured, looking him up and down. His youthful face and physique were decidedly unfamiliar to you, but he must have been someone from your tribe or maybe some frequently passing merchant, but you drew a complete blank.

“I spent my entire life defending our tribe. I raised warriors by the dozens. I was the reason you had a home, only for you to whore yourself out to the monsters that killed the men who fought and died for you,” he growled under his breath and finally you recognised who you had in front of you and you couldn’t hold back a snorted laugh.

The ‘general’ of your village. He’d been old as dirt by the time you were born, and now he was older still, but the stone mask had restored much of his youth. He didn’t give a damn about the warriors he raised, and he sure as hell didn’t respect them the way your husbands did. He became a vampire by choice, betraying your people, eating them, to save his own skin.

“Right… You abandoned our tribe and begged for mercy, at the cost of their lives , but you call me a traitorous whore?!” you demanded, feeling a flare of vindication at the furious look on the bastard’s face. He was going to murder you, but knowing you got under the self-righteous bastard’s skin was worth it a dozen times over

You were out of time. With the vampire exactly one giant leap away from you, you dropped the candle, the little flame snuffed out by the fall. In a fluent motion you grabbed your blade, catching the gleam of the monster’s teeth right before all went dark around you. He tried to trick you, waiting a split second in the dark so that your reflexive swing would miss and he’d have a clear shot at your throat. What your bloodsucking enemy hadn’t realized was that you had been reading his movements with the ripples in your cup this whole time.

That brief little taste of revenge over the proud bastard looking down on you pushed down your fear enough to get your breathing under control, loading your dagger up with hamon and slashing with every ounce of strength you had.

For a moment you thought you missed, feeling no resistance, waiting to feel claws and fangs shredding your flesh, letting out the blood curdling scream you’d been choking on since that glorified leech first stepped into the light of your flame, but nothing happened.

You were breathing hard, and finally your scream seemed to have drawn your husbands’ attention. Kars was the first to catch up, Esidisi and Wamuu flying down the stairs at the end of the long hall. Esidisi’s flaming aura bathed the stone hallway in light, and you could see what you’d done as Kars locked his arms around you and jumped back with you held flush against his chest.

Your knife had gone through him like he was made of paper, burning him up with hamon. One of his arms hung charred and shriveled up at his side and a massive, smoldering gash had opened up from his shoulder, burning up his throat and going all the way across his chest.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)? What happened?!” Wamuu demanded, a stiff breeze coursing through the underground halls and the wires of his headgear dancing around his temples.

You swallowed, looking down at the vampire who’s eyes were now wide with fear, trying to shake his head, a plea for you not to tell them. As if you would treat him any more kindly than them.

“Please let go…” you murmured. Kars shook like letting go physically strained him, but did and tried to check if you were injured in some way he hadn’t noticed and was hurting you, but you shrugged off his concern. “Thank you, my masters… for the freedom and power you have given me… so that I can kill this hypocrite whore myself!” you yelled, landing a near perfect hamon kick against the side of the vampire’s skull. It exploded like a bag of dust being kicked, the rest of its body falling limp on the floor.

“Did it attack you, (Y/N)?” Esidisi asked. It was hard for them to believe. Their vampires were obedient, but it wasn’t impossible, and certainly more likely than their bride going haywire like this.

“No, it was coming in for a hug! Yes, he attacked me. He said I was…” you sniffled, still instinctively wanting to hide your tears, even in front of Esidisi and Wamuu. You looked back at Kars, who you could only guess was shaking with rage, and you regretted being a smartass with your comments again. “I’m sorry for my outburst, but…” you weren’t sure what else to say.

Without exchanging another word, Esidisi torched the corpse and Wamuu scattered its ashes as if it had never been there. Kars dragged you back into his arms, hugging you tight enough that some joints in your back popped.

“They can’t be trusted…” the eldest of the pillar men muttered, his glare focussing on his two companions. “Get rid of any vampire that was once a hamon user. I will not have our bride endangered within our own home,” he said, with barely restrained rage as he hoisted you into his arms and turned around to take you back to his room.

“Master… There are so many. It’ll be next to impossible to-”

Esidisi was cut off when his master half turned and screamed loud enough to hurt your ears. “THEN KILL THEM ALL!”

You were trembling like a leaf in his arms. Esidisi and Wamuu looked conflicted at each other before bowing and responding in unison.

“Yes, lord Kars!”

Kars took you back to his room and the oppressive darkness was less frightening in his arms, but in the dark you could hear his fangs grinding together, his frustrated, snarled breathing, and the distant screams of his vampire army being slaughtered in the pitch black caves.

“What happened?” he eventually asked. “I let you out of our sight for two minutes…”

“I’m sorry, lord Kars…” you whispered, wiling your voice to stay calm. “I guess it held a grudge towards me for… marrying you and being allowed to live…” you tried to explain.

“I understand that,” he responded tersely. “But WHAT. HAPPENED?!”

“I was able to sense him stalking me in the dark. I called out. He insulted me, my mother and the warriors of my tribe and I responded in kind… He leapt at me and I cut him with the dagger Wamuu let me have… I dropped the candle and lost control of my breathing, so I couldn’t pinpoint him in the dark and screamed and… You know what happened after that…”

“Stupid fragile human…” he muttered, making you cringe. He laid you back down on his bed and laid there with you, keeping you locked tight against his chest. “I won’t allow you to die. I will conquer the sun, the earth and all its wretched creatures if I must. I won’t let you be taken from me.”

You shivered, hiding your face against his chest. The soft mattress dulled the vibrations and this deep into the temple’s catacombs you could scarcely hear the dying screams, the crackling flames and roaring winds.

Without the vampires, who would search for the stone? How could you possibly uncover the treasure they had searched for all these centuries without the hundreds of undead that made up their army to act as their eyes and ears? Was this your fault? Would you be forced to part with your beloved in a month’s time because they could never find the stone at this rate?

It felt like an eternity, but in less than an hour it was done. Kars seemed to know when it was over, picking you up and cradling you gently against his chest as he carried you back, through the halls, up the stairs and eventually into the cool evening air. You could see the ash stained clothes of vampires who would rather take their chances against the sun than die at the hands of their masters. You remembered vividly the general’s face as your foot collided with his skull, skin burning up like a paper mask, flesh tearing and crumbling like burned up charcoal, before the impact splattered the ash like remnants into the air. You could visualize it in slow motion in your mind.

You felt proud. What you’d done was incredible! You’d never imagined you could achieve something like that, and just in the nick of time. At the same time you felt guilty. Not for the act itself, but for feeling proud of something that would inevitably snowball into such a mess.

“It is done, lord Kars,” Esidisi said. You could tell he was every bit as tense as you were, hanging back out of his master’s striking range, although he still smiled to comfort you, and so you smiled back.

“Well done, both of you,” Kars said, sitting on his throne, still holding you as he looked out over the valley. The lights of your village were still dark, and the stars were so much brighter for it, but even their twinkling was of little comfort to you right now.

“If I may say so, my lord. Our dear bride defended herself admirably,” Wamuu said, your smile widening into a grin. Wamuu admired strength above all things. Even if fighting a vampire might have been a small feat to him, he knew you had done something truly incredible in defeating such a powerful opponent.

“She shouldn’t have had to defend herself in the first place…” Kars remarked, dampening your mood again.

“You said I was free to train in combat as I saw fit just minutes before it happened…” You pointed out. Your stomach was in knots already and had been for the better part of an hour. By then you’d rather get it over with and have him snap than to endure his quiet, simmering rage.

“I meant for you to practice, perhaps spar with one of us or some of those pests who would actually obey and protect you. You realize you were inches from death?!” he demanded, fisting a hand in your hair, making you wince.

“I have been inches from death since you and those pests came here! I could have been eaten weeks ago and every second I have been here! I killed the only pest that mattered and you just-”

“Enough!” he yelled, striking at the cracked armrest at his side, shattering it completely. There was dead silence all around. “Be more mindful… of your mortality, little one…” he breathed. His eyes were blazing red and his mane seemed to bristle like that of an angered beast. You nodded as best you could with the iron grip on your own hair, which he eventually released. You didn’t need to be told to get off his lap, you got the hint, watching with teary eyes as he shook off the strands he had pulled out of your scalp.

“We’ll be back by morning,” Kars announced, disappearing in a flash. Esidisi helped you stand, and Wamuu pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You truly fought as brilliantly as the shining dawn, beloved. We shall be with you again before the first light of sunrise,” your first husband whispered, before they too were forced to depart. You nodded and bid them good luck in their search, waiting until you were sure they were out of sight and earshot before angrily kicking the ash stained rags and pebbles around.

“As if that ring you forced on me does too little to remind me what an untrustworthy little mortal I am, lord Kars! I am thoroughly humbled by your gracious gift of conditional mercy! I shall happily bear the weight of my bastard father’s deceit of thee, great and all knowing gods!” you rambled, heading down the mountain with a torch, since there was nothing left to harm you now. People knew not to tread near your village and the monsters haunting it and all the vampires were now gone. At worst you might encounter a wild animal, but those were easily chased off with a torch. Your village lay abandoned still. You felt a wave of guilt as some pets your people held flocked towards you upon seeing you, in search of food and care. Determined to be a better master than Kars and swallow your anger for now, you went around tearing open pantries and food stores. It wouldn’t last them long, but before the time on your ring ran out some humans would realize the structures had been left uninhabited and most of them would find new homes with new owners. Your food back at the temple had gone to waste in a cloud of corpse you kicked up, so for the first time in days you cooked yourself a proper meal.

Releasing the livestock would kill them, so you dutifully went around feeding them too. The sheep and the pigs and the handful of goats and cows and eventually the horses.

Many warriors kept magnificent horses. They were a point of pride and you found them just in time as many were ready to hurt themselves on the fences or stables enclosing them in search of food.

One that caught your attention most was Aries, the big black war-horse that had killed two people in the marketplace once. It was known to be an absolute nightmare, held in check with sharp spikes on its bit and sharper strikes from its master’s whip.

It was a beautiful horse, but it seemed to bristle at your very presence. You laid out food for the huffing and sputtering creature and opened the stable door, jumping aside as quick as you could. It would be both cruel and dangerous to try to herd it back into the stable again, so you decided he might as well roam free. If someone more daring or less cautious than you tried to tame it later, that would be their concern.

You did the same for any other stabled horses, hoping they would be able to live the long and healthy lives they deserved in freedom.

You gathered a new basket of supplies and with a sour expression you headed back up the mountain to await your husbands’ return.

For a while you were able to ignore the steady hoofbeats behind you, though they were easier to sense than any vampire, but after a while it got too close to be a coincidence and you searched the darkness with the light of your torch, which was nearing its end. You could just barely make out the gracefully trotting black mass, its fur shiny in the firelight.

“Aries, no. This is for me. There’s more food down there,” you said, noting the behemoth was more calm now that it had eaten. “Here, last little snack, then go run,” you said, feeding him an apple, which he took without biting or fussing.

It was obvious it was following you and you tried to stop an obvious idea from forming in your mind, but it was too late.

“The moment I put a saddle on you, you’ll kick and stagger, injure me and enrage lord Kars. You were not made to be ridden, and you were most definitely not made to pull a cart,” you told him sternly, only to have him rub his giant head against you like a massive cat.

“I chose you,” the bastard seemed to say. “I chose you, so deal with the consequences.”

“Terrible, awful, murderous demon baby you are,” you muttered absently a while later as you were cautiously brushing down the massive horse, unable to keep the affection out of your tone. “Almost as bad as the terrible, awful, murderous demon husbands I married. I love you and I love them, but they talk about as well as you do,” you said. “I would have gladly helped look for the stone. I’d have gone out during the day and actually searched, asked people, anything. Instead I’m… Well I probably spent more time on my back than anything,” you noted, red faced as you dragged the heavy saddle out for Aries to see. He neighed and you slowly put on his blanket first. Then the saddle.

“Maybe I won’t be there to wait for him come morning. Make him worry while he hides in the shade another day,” you said, laughing at the stupidity of it. You weren’t going to do that. It’d be suicide. “More likely you’re about to throw me and break my limbs and then after Esidisi is going to laugh at me for being stupid, Wamuu will carry me around like a wounded bird and Kars will mope around sneering about what a stupid, fragile human he picked up,” you said out loud, taking a deep breath and using your hamon to boost your strength as you hoisted yourself onto his back.

“So far so good…” you whispered, stroking his neck. “I wonder where they are right now. The capital, or some port city, no doubt. You know I’ve never seen the ocean before, have you?” you mused, daring to spur him into a trot with a light squeeze of your calves. You had no reigns. He’d snapped and backed away when you only just approached with a headpiece, so that was out of the question. You’d ridden an old little pony without reigns as a child, though this hardly compared. “The ocean is less than twenty miles away. You could make that in a day, couldn’t you, Aries? Or a night… We’d ride past the capital too. We could search for lord Kars’ dumb stone,” you said, steering him through the desolate streets of your hometown with light kicks and tugs on his mane.

You really weren’t dressed for riding, but you had some proper riding clothes in your old home. You wouldn’t be back before sunrise, if you made it at all, and you had never traveled this far outside your village before. It was madness, but a heady mixture of fear and spite was urging you on.

You already had that cursed ring that promised you a swift ending. Why should you spend thirty days as a plaything if Kars wouldn’t commit to sparing you now?

You were already putting on your hardiest clothes over the more delicate ones you had been given and mounting your horse again when you realized you probably wouldn’t have been able to mount Aries in the first place without your hamon. The gift Kars had given you to show his trust and how he never showed the barest hint of anger when you struck him.

He wasn’t mad at you. He was almost forced to face an eternity without you and it distressed him to the point of lashing out.

“Maybe I’ll ask Lord Kars to accompany us to the ocean when he comes home this morning.”

“Good morning,” Kars’ calm voice still startled you and your reaction startled Aries, who stomped and huffed angrily.

“Good morning, lord Kars,” you said, trying to shush the horse. Kars watched you quietly while you calmed the giant you had brought back to the temple.

“You’re quite good at that,” he noted, coming up behind you. You quirked a brow and looked back at him, waiting to see if there was something more to that statement or if it was some kind of joke you didn’t understand. Yesterday he wouldn’t acknowledge an expert kill you made, but now he was complimenting your skills with a horse? “You have a calming air about you. It puts me at ease. Your animal compatriot senses it too. I feel a sense of contentment when you’re near that nothing else brings me,” he explained and you bit your tongue to hold back another snarky remark pointing out he didn’t exactly seem calm last night.

“Please forgive my behavior last night. I meant no offense by my words and I realize your aspirations have now suffered on my behalf. You destroyed your army to keep me safe after one soldier threatened me and your search for the stone-”

“Ssshh, my sun. No sacrifice is too great for you,” he assured you, pulling you close. “The thought of being helpless to protect you while you’re out in the sun vexes me to no end. Tonight I almost lost you when I let my guard down and I could never forgive myself if I… we had lost you forever due to my carelessness…” he explained, enveloping you in the same desperately tight hold that kept you pressed firmly against him while his army was slain. “My frustration was never directed at you… and tonight gave me some time to realize that the only reason you are alive, was because I gave you the freedom to fight back and to keep you as a caged bird at my side would not serve to keep you safe,” he went on, pressing a small vial into your hand. “The antidote.”

You smiled and reached back, carding your fingers through his hair. Gods, it was beautiful enough to make you jealous.

“Thank you for trusting me, master. I shall keep it with me, until you find the stone,” you said. He exhaled sharply, taking the hand that was combing through his hair and kissing it.

“Let me take you to bed, beloved. I cannot wait any longer,” he breathed.

“Let me take care of Aries. The sun is almost up. I shall join you shortly,” you said, releasing a rather undignified noise when you were picked up and thrown over his shoulder instead.

“Wamuu, tend to our beloved’s new pet,” he ordered. You saw Wamuu appear from the shadows in the pale of dawn, smiling at you and his master, then full on grinning at Aries.

“You have chosen a magnificent steed, dear (Y/N)! I shall be glad to assist in its care,” he announced. “I am also glad to see you and lord Kars have reconciled.”

“Ah, wait! He can be quite violent, but he’s good to me. Don’t hurt him!” you called out as you were carried away.

“Is she talking about Wamuu?” Esidisi asked, only just arriving as you were carried past him.

“She is talking about a horse she brought back. Get inside, Esidisi,” Kars answered, walking faster when Esidisi snorted a laugh.

“I have not seen you retreat to your sleeping quarters with such urgency in millennia, dear Kars,” he called after you two.

You were thrown onto his bed again. It had to be his, because it was so soft and also you bounced twice without falling off the other side.

“How dare you wear so many clothes?” he asked. Now you were not familiar with their language in the least, but you were fairly confident this roughly translated into: “You have until I am on top of you to get those clothes off and whatever is still on you is getting shredded.”

“I needed something to wear when riding Aries,” you explained, getting your old clothes off, as well as the silk bottoms of the two piece attire he’d gifted you, which you were still wearing underneath. You could sense some movement a little ways away from you, then a bright rain of sparks as Kars dragged some kind of blade against the stone of a fireplace, lighting a fire inside that grew steadily until you could finally see around the dark room. There was a dragon’s hoard of treasure laid out between the stone fireplace and the bed, glimmering in the dancing light of the fire. On the walls were enormous maps of places you had never even heard of before, some covered with pins and strings, detailing impossibly long journeys. In the corner was a desk that had to be as heavy as your newly acquired warhorse, covered in fine tools, rocks and white sand. No doubt he had been carving more stone masks, but didn’t he have enough of those already? You had a hundred things to ask about every corner of the room, but you were stunned silent and motionless at the most dazzling sight of all.

Kars usually wasn’t very fond of clothes, be it yours or for himself, but for tonight’s occasion even the minimal clothing he usually wore was too much. Bared naked except for his jewelry, he stalked closer to his darling prey on the bed, the smirk on his face telling he knew exactly what your awestruck expression was for.

“Those clothes might suit you for riding Aries, but you’ll have no need for them when riding me,” he purred smoothly, sharp fangs glinting as brightly as the jewelry adorning his regal features while he grinned down at you.

You gripped the soft, black sheets, wanting to touch, but unsure if it was allowed, like hovering by a priceless artwork. You weren’t sure if he meant it, or if he was just teasing you. He always preferred to be in charge with everything. Why would he choose a position that let you take the lead now?

“Y-You wish for me to…” you trailed off, not daring to repeat the phrase. He silenced you with his lips against yours, guiding your hands to comb through his hair and caress his perfectly sculpted form.

“Ride me. Take your pleasure and serve me as your lover and master. Give yourself entirely to me as my bride,” he reaffirmed, he was already hard when he guided one of your hands to stroke him. You were a bit more sure of yourself by now, knowing no amount of strength from you could seriously hurt or injure him. It helped that Kars wasn’t as monstrously thick as Wamuu had been and gripping as firmly as you could without impeding the slide of your fingers on his skin you managed to work your master’s hard cock in a way that made his painted blue eyes flutter shut.

“Yes, lord Kars,” you agreed breathlessly, coaxing him to lie back and let you get on top with just a small push. He looked up at you with a mixture of reverence and cocksure amusement, guiding you into another languid kiss before whispering his next command in your ear.

“I want you to use your mouth on me, beloved. Let me see your pretty, pink lips wrapped around my cock while you choke on it,” he said, his words making your stomach tighten with excitement. For any human men you might have found the act far less appealing, but for Kars you would happily oblige.

Your master’s dick was as unnaturally perfect as the rest of him. It was long, straight, the plump head flushed slightly darker and glistening with a smear of pearly white fluid. Your godly mate lacked all the smelly, hairy and sweaty human traits that might have made this unpleasant, leaving you with only the challenge of how you were going to fit something so massive down your throat as he intended.

You weren’t sure how to go about this, simply doing what felt most natural and awaiting more guidance. Licking up the salty, savoury drops of precum that had gathered at the tip and continuing to stroke his length, it occurred to you this was your first time doing this. Not just sucking him off, but this was the first time servicing one of your husbands. Wamuu and Esidisi had both taken charge and been the ones to pleasure you throughout the nights you spent with them, claiming and treasuring you.

Kars desired you no less than either of your previous lovers and would not be opposed to serving you in any way you liked, but this was what he truly wanted more than anything. To be the one being claimed and treasured and worshipped. Knowing that you desired him enough to take him and obey his every command was intoxicating to him and it showed in his adoring, half-lidded eyes, clouded with lust.

He tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you down, forcing you to take more and more into your mouth, and despite your best efforts, his pushing against your gag reflex on every stroke had you choking and sputtering, struggling not to use your teeth, even if it wouldn’t hurt him.

“Finding it hard to concentrate, my dear morning light?” he asked, licking his lips as he watched you. Even without touching you much more than a few kisses and petting your head, you were starting to get wet, squeezing your thighs together to hold out against your own needs until your master was satisfied. “Your hamon can numb the pain of your muscles stretching beyond their usual limits and restore any damage that might cause. I will make sure you are able to breathe. Stay focussed now, little one,” he ordered, bracing his legs more firmly against the bed and giving you a few seconds to breathe in deep through your nose and try and get your hamon under control before forcing you down all the way to the base of his cock. He moaned heavenly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes to revel in the feel of you. By all accounts this should have hurt, but you felt nothing aside from the slightly uncomfortable pressure of his throbbing length down your throat and the slight sting of him pulling your hair. Clutching his strong thighs for balance, you could feel the faintest tremble to them when you reflexively tried to swallow around the massive intrusion.

“Centuries I thought no creature aside from us could ever be truly perfect… How wrong I was, my beautiful sun… I may be immortal, but it is you who is truly divine…” he praised, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “So good for me, my dear… Hmm, but I did promise to let you breathe, didn’t I?” he mused, letting you come up for air, pulling back to gasp for breath with threads of saliva connecting your pretty mouth to his dick.

“I know it’s a little overwhelming the first time, but you’re doing so well. You’re so wonderful and tight,” he praised, wiping tears of exertion from your cheeks and letting you breathe until you were ready to continue.

With their immortal bodies and stamina, the pace and strength levels humans fucked at were rarely sufficient for your husbands, who preferred to ravish you at their pace. Kars was taking this slow though, savouring the feeling and the sight of you sucking his cock all the way down, shyly meeting his gaze from behind teary lashes between his thighs.

“I’ll have Esidisi teach you properly sometime. You’re so eager to please,” he cooed, stroking your cheek as you tried your best to bob your head and take him down all the way. Honestly if the men from your tribe had even considered this use for hamon, you were sure all women would have been made to master it. Not that you would have cared to do this a second sooner or for anyone else.

The smooth glide of your master’s cock against your tongue, his hands in your hair, the subtle tremor in his voice when he spoke to praise you, all of it only served to drive you mad with want.

“Mhmm, so good to me, my darling,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent a spike of arousal straight through you as you were pulled up into another kiss. His cock, slick with your spit, brushed almost teasingly against your warm folds like a whispered promise of the pleasure you had come to crave. Pleasure you knew only your husbands could provide.

“Lord Kars… I can’t wait anymore. Please~?” you pleaded shamefully, grinding against his hard length and feeling it pulse in time with the instinctive rutting of his hips against yours.

“I gave you my permission to serve me, my precious (Y/N). I’m not stopping you now,” he said, gesturing at his flawless body with a smirk. “You will take your pleasure from riding me like the voracious mortal bitch you are. You will worship me with every whimper and cry from your lips. You are mine to cherish and adore until the end of time itself,” he purred, pulling you close and tipping your chin up like he was posing you for some erotic masterpiece.

You swallowed and looked down. You could scarcely imagine getting all of that inside yourself smoothly, let alone riding him the way Esidisi and Wamuu had taken you. Whining about that wouldn’t get either of you off though, so with another deep breath you lined up the head of his cock with your entrance and aided by the new trick you had just learned you dropped back down into his lap in one movement.

You were rewarded with the sight of your master throwing his head back, groaning and squeezing your hips hard enough you’d have bruises with his fingerprints by the end of your rendezvous. Good healing practice, he would likely tell you, though you wouldn’t mind showing them off.

“Perfect… Just perfect for me,” he growled, licking his lips while you adjusted to his size and steadied your breathing. “You are so good to me, my sunshine…” he praised, biting his lip while his hands wandered across your trembling thighs. “Oh, don’t stop now, my darling. I know you have so much more to give me,” he said, edging you on to move already. “Worship me on your knees like the first night you came to me. Ride me like your precious stallion~”

“My stallion isn’t even this big. You must be joking!” you huffed, already bracing yourself on his chest with both hands for support as your legs were shaking. Kars looked surprised for a moment, fighting a smile tugging on his lips and quickly covering his mouth to hide a genuine laugh.

“Cheeky little thing,” he chided, clearly amused and slightly smacking one of your cheeks on his lap in reprimand. Well, lightly for him. It was like a whip strike to you, making you clench down hard on his cock where it was buried deep inside you. “I suppose your inexperience is the price of your innocence. It doesn’t matter when I’ll have eternity to teach you how to serve me properly,” he said, flipping you over and pushing your knees back until they almost touched the sheets.

“A-Ah! I’m sorry! P-Please be gentle with me! I’ll learn to serve you, please!” you cried out, already worried you were in for a punishment far more brutal than a little spanking.

“I gave you power, little one, but you have shown your only rightful place is underneath me. It is too late to beg for mercy now,” he taunted, grinding his massive dick so deep you were seeing stars. “Focus on your breathing now. I won’t repair you once I leave you broken and used. I’ll mold your insides to the shape of my cock and you will remember exactly who you belong to,” he warned.

You’d try. You’d try with all your might, but with Kars’ silver tongue whispering sweet promises in your ear and the head of his cock rubbing so tantalizingly deep inside your dripping pussy, breathing was becoming less and less of a priority.

He picked up the pace gradually, with you fighting to consciously breathe in a way that could keep the god between your legs from completely ruining your tight little cunt and keep you from passing out from the pleasure that had long since overpowered your common sense.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? What a hopeless little whore did I take for a bride. Just aching to be fucked by any one of us, aren’t you?” he asked, his hungry red eyed gaze sweeping over the sight of you taking his cock deep enough he could see it in your stomach. “I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll fuck you till your body is in ruins and your sweet, broken heart is content,” he groaned, losing himself in your sweet cries and tight heat until he felt your hand on his cheek.

“N-No… Lord Kars~” you whined, the faintest smile painting your lips. There was only one thing you truly desired. One thing, which he could give you that would leave your heart eternally content.

“ Worship me… ”

The words had just barely left your mouth before you could feel your lover seize up, legs pressed all the way back as he bit down harshly on your shoulder and flooded your insides with his release.

Gasping a final breath, you screamed to your lover, the gods and whoever else was left to hear it. Your precious mortal body constricted around him, milking his cock as if demanding more. Maybe he had been right about what you truly craved. What your body craved, at least.

You were exhausted, floating in the fuzzy post-orgasm bliss that would usually lull you to sleep quite quickly, but Kars’ warning rang clear in your mind. You could rest once you were sure he was satisfied.

In the meantime, you were still too exhausted to move, so to be let down and pulled into a hug was a pleasant surprise.

“Don’t you know I already do, my love?” he whispered. Your mind was still swimming in a tide of pleasure, making it hard to connect those words to the correct context. “You have served me well. You may rest now,” he said. That was all you needed to let the siren call of sleep pull you under, cuddled up safely in your master’s arms.

You woke up many hours later as the sun was just setting, but Kars had already carried you to the shaded side of the mountain where he was safe. You weren’t quite sure how he’d gotten you there, but you figured there were likely some tunnels in the catacombs you did not know about. You’d have plenty of days to explore at your leisure without vampires there.

Kars leapt swiftly around the steep hillside, and up the steep cliffs of the much larger mountains lining the valley.

“Where are we going?” You asked with a soft yawn, drawing Kars’ attention.

“You’ll see,” your husband told you with a small smile.

“I want to go to the ocean,” you said, only half awake, earning a chuckle.

“Close. But if you want, I can take you there. Just not tonight,” he said. You looked up the mountain you were ascending, growing slightly worried when you saw smoke rising from the top.

“Is this safe?” you asked, clinging to Kars’ shoulders. It was getting colder. These mountain peaks were tipped with snow, even in the summer months, and you were only wrapped in a sheet you recognised from the bedroom you shared.

“You’ll always be safe with me, my dear,” he assured you, slowing to a stop by the source of the smoke. Wait, not smoke, just steam. A small spring on the uninhabited mountain top had been heated to the point of steaming on the freezing summit.

Wamuu and Esidisi were already waiting for you, with Aries in tow. Wamuu had by some miracle tamed him to the point he stood resting peacefully in the shallows, letting your first lover pour water down his back to continue keeping him warm. Esidisi was half asleep, up to his chest in the clear spring water and before you could ask anything else you were unceremoniously thrown in, sheet and all.

You screamed and kicked to get back up, glaring at Kars.

“Never do that again!” you yelled, glad Aries had taken a shine to the wind god, as that obviously startled him.

“If you want to see the ocean, learn to swim,” Kars responded, casually taking off his clothes and jewels and putting up his hair before joining you.

“I can swim. I just don’t appreciate being thrown,” you argued, pouting. “And if the spring is heating up, doesn’t that mean this is a volcano?” you asked worriedly.

“It just means Esidisi is here,” Kars answered, handing you a comb and turning his head, the implication obvious. You wanted to huff and refuse, but no amount of pettiness could make you pass up a chance to play with his hair.

“I don’t like the cold,” Esidisi explained, the water near boiling where he sat a few metres away.

“A cold bath strengthens the spirit,” Wamuu interjected.

“Well you’re welcome to go roll in the snow over there,” his master responded, splashing the younger with a wave of hot water and soaking whatever clothes he was still wearing.

“Can you two stop behaving like children?” Kars asked, when Wamuu used his winds to splash him right back.

“Says the one who can’t be bothered to comb his own hair,” you teased.

“I’ll have you know, this is a privilege and not a chore. If you don’t want to, go play with your pet. Normally we’d have sent vampires to fetch clean water down the mountain, but now circumstances have forced our hands,” he explained.

“Ah, so that’s why,” you murmured, the black silk dancing unconcerned in the warm water around you.

“Don’t blame yourself, dear (Y/N). They would have become food eventually and we can look after ourselves and you,” Esidisi assured you, sitting up and stretching. You were momentarily distracted by watching the water run down his rippling muscles, following a particular drop run from his forearm, down his bicep to the swell of his pecs and a half amused scoff drew your attention back to Kars, who stood up to form a similar display.

“Unless that isn’t what’s distracting you?” he asked, smirking down at you.

“You have my full and undivided attention, my lord…” you said quickly, red faced due to more than just the water’s temperature. Although you couldn’t help but notice he had caught the attention of your other mates as well as yours with his little show.

“As it should be,” he said, letting his hair down and shaking off the excess water that caught in the ends. “The absence of our army is negligible in our day-to-day lives, but will greatly hinder our search for the stone. The last lead we have to go on was that the raw gem was brought down to Rome, where it was cut and sold,” he explained. “I’m not sure if the hamon tribe believed to be in possession of the correct stone, or if they meant to trick us, but our time was wasted chasing a smaller cut of the same gem.”

“They were wiped from existence, save for (Y/N) and her sister’s family. Seems like an awful long way to force a bluff,” Esidisi pointed out.

“What if the rest of the stone has been cut too small?” you asked, worry making your chest feel tight. You could sense your wedding ring still there, though it felt less oppressive now. Not nearly as oppressive as the deadline approaching.

“We interrogated the man who cut the stone. He said every time the light shone directly on it it nearly killed him or destroyed his tools. He cut a large flawless stone from the raw gem and two smaller ones. He did not dare cut them any finer. He sold them for a fortune to a merchant he did not know, as he wanted to be rid of the stones for good. He did not live to enjoy his fortune,” Wamuu answered, stroking Aries’ ears more to calm himself now.

“There is only one Aja that will suit our needs, but since being sold in Rome it could have been taken anywhere,” Kars said.

“The Aja draws attention. Not just for its looks. It’s ability to refract light makes it dangerous. Anyone trying to sell it would garner attention,” Esidisi said.

“If it refracts sunlight, they wouldn’t try to sell it at night. Especially if it got out what you’d done to my tribe,” you reasoned.

“Which is exactly where you come in,” Kars said, cupping your cheek. “You can embrace the light of day. You are human. You can help us search for the stone.”

You didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Yes, my masters.”

[sparklingchan]

Queen || Park Seonghwa(Ateez)

Pairing : Seonghwa x Reader (fem.)

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: Mentions of war , cuss words , A single kiss.

Genre:Angst , fluff, Goryeo AU , Royal AU.

Description : Serving the nation was Crown Prince Seonghwa’s second most top priority. You were the first. 

A/N: This one is an old drabble too but it’s one of my best ones. I haven’t been able to write much since my college already started but I will write a new imagine/drabble asap. 

Enjoy!

The warrior of Goryeo ,the future king, the pride of his father, the most gorgeous man to ever have been born, Seonghwa was everything an ideal crown prince could be. The tales of his bravery were known by the young and the old and the stories of his loyalty were performed as poems and songs. He was the most perfect man in the entire nation and the people truly believed so with all their hearts.

But little did the people know what actually hides behind his calm demeanor and loving smile.

"What do you mean you are getting me married?" Seonghwa has a stern look on his face, trying to remain calm as his father tells him -commands him - to do the one thing he could never do. His heart crushes in his chest but he tries to maintain a composed form in front of his discipline obsessed father.

"You heard me the first time, Crown Prince . You will be getting married to the Princess of a minor kingdom soon. " he asserts his decision by looking at the prince with angry, burning eyes.

Seonghwa has a heart of gold, they say. A heart so strong and so precious, no one could ever reach that point of greatness in one lifetime. But maybe they were wrong. Maybe his heart was not gold ,but glass ; frail and easily breakable.

That night, after his father practically forces him into an alliance he didn't even desire, Crown Prince Seonghwa walks to the one place in the entire nation that makes him feel safe and at home. And no,that is not his luxurious , comfortable palace complex.

Miss y/n's house is a few minutes away from the main royal complex so it has always been easier for Seonghwa to be able to sneak out without getting caught by guards or his own family members. Out of the million times he's ever been to her small,two roomed house, he's probably only ever been close to getting caught just once.

"Y/n, its me " he knocks softly at her door, trying to hold his tears in as his father's words still remain carved in his mind.

As soon as the door opens, he practically pulls her into his arms, finding comfort in that one person more than anyone else. She puts her head on his chest and nuzzles into the embrace, finding the similar comfort that he does in her.

"What's wrong ?" She asks, not being able to ignore the tear stains on his cheeks and the tremble in his voice.

He strokes her long ,black hair ,trying to gain courage to say anything at all. How could he tell her that all those dreams of living together might never come true, that he will be sharing his bed with another woman now, that he will have to father children of a woman he didn't love.

"Father is getting me married to a princess." he wishes he could have stopped those words before they reached her ears, despite the physical impossibility of that desire, but there's nothing he could do anymore. The damage has already been done .

Y/n's  heart drops in the deepest pits of her stomach , a feeling of anger , bitterness and betrayal washes over her as she process the information just provided to her. But she forces a smile, for Seonghwa 's sake.

"It's alright, your majesty. " she places a kiss on his head, fighting away tears that were so dangerously waiting to fall from her eyes. For Seonghwa , she reminds herself.

He looks up at her with bewilderment clear in his eyes. "Are you saying I should listen to him? "

Y/n bite her lips ,trying to form proper sentences in her head. How does one tell the man they love to let everything go ? Let them go?

She didn't want to do it, of course. If she could , she would have made him run away from that horrendous royal palace and keep him with her in her small hut where they could live a peaceful life but she couldn't.

He's royal blood and she is just a commoner who washes clothes for a living. She's not a match for him, no matter how much both of them pretended it weren't true.

"He's the king. You cannot say no to a royal command. " she whispers. She takes in deep breaths to make sure that his scent is embedded in her mind for centuries to come. The way that his arms feel warm around her and the smooth texture of his voice, she wants to remember everything.

"I will give up everything and come to you, y/n. Just say the word and I'll leave everything. " he says, taking her face in his hands. His fingertips press softly against her cheeks, the pressure sending shivers through her body.

"And then what? You leave and then what? Are you ready to give up all those luxuries and privileges to live a normal life where we have to work really hard to earn some money? " she speaks in a small voice as her shaky hands remove his from her face. "Will you turn your back on the citizens of our country that love you so much ?"

Seonghwa's hands fall to his sides , as if they lost all their sense of movement and purpose. The tears flowing down his cheeks refuse to stop anytime soon .

"Go, Seonghwa . Please. The country needs you. More than me. " she says , finally letting her own tears  flow too.

"I will never be able to love her. Not as much as I love you, not nearly as much you." he sobs, his hands yet again finding their way to her waist, pulling her into his chest.

Putting a hand on his chest , y/n stops his actions, although it only feels like twisting a knife further into her own wounds.

"Go."

As he walks away that night, she watches his back from a small gap through the window, trying to remember as many details about this man as her mind could afford to store. She wants to remember him. She wants to remember the only man who loved her so unconditionally.

The grief finally crashes into her , her whole body being taken over by ugly sobs, with her eyes still on Seonghwa 's back, his black hair shining under the moonlight and his sword swinging with every movement of his body.

For Seonghwa , she reminds herself , For Seonghwa , I will never love again.

"You have to stop bringing things like this for me, your highness. It makes me feel guilty." Y/n says , running her hand over the beautiful, brand new silk blanket sitting on her lap. Mingi smiles, rolling his eyes playfully at her. "Hey, this is not from me. It's from Brother Seonghwa ."

Nodding her head with slight disappointment on her face, she tries hard not to acknowledge the name even though it as if makes her body erupt into flames. It's been months since they last saw each other and although she doesn't say it out loud , her mind is pre occupied with Seonghwa’s thoughts more often than she'd like. But then again, It's not easy forgetting the man you so dearly loved.

"How's he doing?" Those words come out even before she could process it , spilling out of her mouth like water out of a jug.

"He's doing fine .Doesn't talk much ,rarely sleeps. I don't see him that much either." Mingi says

He's as miserable as she is, she realizes and even though it is horrible , she feels a slight giddiness at that thought.

"And the crown princess? "

"Do you really want to know, y/n?" Mingi replies with a slight chuckle.

No, she didn't really want to know about how much time the good-for-nothing princess is spending with her Seonghwa but she asked it anyway , just for the sake of it.

"No." She admits.

Mingi sighs, running his hand over the soft blanket laid on her lap. "They're not married yet you know . If you say it, I'll make some arrangements so you two could run off to a faraway place. He says he doesn't want the throne anyway. He honestly doesn't want anything that isn't you anymore. "

Y/n feels her heart beat increase at his words but her face remains neutral , trying not to lose her composure in front of Seonghwa's brother.

"I would never be able to keep him as happy as the princess might, though I hate to admit it. He's grown up in those palaces with thousands of servants and expensive clothes and luxurious cuisines. If he chooses me, he'll lose all of that. He'll lose his home , he'll lose the love of his countrymen, your highness. Why can't you of all people understand that? "

"No, I do understand, y/n. But I don't like seeing my brother like that. I and second prince Hongjoong have had to see him in such a miserable condition these past few months, not knowing what to do ," He says "No medicine for this illness ,right? " He adds, pointing a finger to the left side of his chest ; his heart.

"No, there isn't " she replies, but the "I wish there was " is silent.

"Are you out of your mind, Seonghwa ? Father will chop our heads off and have them displayed at the front gate of the palace!" Hongjoong is angry but he knows he's not exaggerating. Their excuse of a father might actually end up doing that if any of his children bring dishonor to the family.

"I agree. " Mingi agrees. Seonghwa paces to and fro in his room , the groom's clothes on his bed long forgotten. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair , hissing at himself for not being able to come up with a solid decision. He has to do something and he knows for a fact that he cannot marry the princess waiting for him in the king's court.

"I can't marry her. I will not marry her. "He keeps mumbling to himself under his breath as his brothers watch him helplessly.

The door of the room flies open without a warning and the three boys look at their father ,his majesty, the king of Goreyo entering the room with a horrified expression.

"The wench ran away." he says with a shaking breath, humiliation clear in his eyes. "The princess ran away with her lover to a far away place. I will wage a war on that kingdom! I will destroy them for this insult they've spat on our faces."

Seonghwa 's mind goes blank for a second , wondering if the words leaving his father's mouth were true or just a manifestation of his own imagination.

"Father, it's okay. I think everything happens for a reason. " Hongjoong speaks up , deciding to take one for the team. He trembles under his father's gaze but he swallows the fear. The universe knows he'd do anything for his brothers. Anything.

Mingi looks at Seonghwa ,as if signaling him to say something or do something instead of staring at the king like a statue. "Uh.. yes, yes, father. I don't think she'd have made a very good queen anyway so why waste our time fighting against such people? Let it go. Karma will get back to them."

He's speaking nonsense at this point but he doesn't care. He only wishes to see y/n as soon as possible.

"Fine, if you say so. Anyway I meant to ask you if you have a bride in mind. I can't cancel the whole wedding for a stupid girl ; you're getting married anyway, bring whoever you want, a common girl ,a noblewoman ,whatever. I just don't want my name to have a black stain on it because the crown prince's wedding got cancelled under my reign. "The king puts his hand on Seonghwa ‘s shoulder.

"Yes. Yes. I have someone in mind, father. I'll get her right away. " If you think he sprinted right out the door ,running off towards y/n's house without letting the king respond to his words, then you're absolutely right.

The knocks on her door seem oddly familiar ,too familiar to be true yet, without a second thought she opens it, although she wasn't actually expecting him to there.

" Seonghwa ! Did you run away from the wedding?" She cries, as he leans against her door and pants heavily.

"No." he gulps . " No. She ran away. Father wants me to marry whoever I want. Says he just wants to save his image."

Speechless. That is what she is as she watches him enter the small hut, his chest still heaving from the run and the sweat still fresh on his forehand. "I'm going to ask you this one last time, Y/n." he walks up to her ,trapping her by pinning her against the wall with his hands on either side of her head. "Will you marry me and become my Queen? Will you please do me this one favour? "

Y/n stares at him for a good five seconds, tears streaming down her face as she rests her hand on Seonghwa’s chest, the heartbeat from his chest matching hers.

When he raises an eyebrow demanding an answer, she doesn't reply but instead pulls his mouth down to meet hers. 

And that's all the answer he'll ever need.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

I've really enjoyed your recent meta takes and was wondering if you could elaborate on your thoughts on Mandy + Ian and her going for Lip as a result (from your Ian Relationships meta)? I love reading about M+I and their connection is just so dear to me 😭

(P.S Thank you for being such a beacon of positivity in the Shameless fandom! I only got into the show during lockdown last year but it's become such a comfort so it makes me so happy to see positivity right now. ❤ )

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! You’re seriously too kind! I totally sympathize with you: Shameless has shot straight to the top of my list of comfort media since watching it right around the same time, so I’m really passionate about sharing the love around. 😃🧡 

To me, one of the most important things to look at in this analysis is motives—who each of these characters are, what they desire for themselves, and how those factors fit together like a puzzle.

Mandy is in such a difficult position. It’s not as easy as saying that she’s a victim of abuse and wants nothing more than to get as far from her family as possible, because that’s simply not true. In s1, we see that she’s very comfortable in her house. She and Mickey exhibit your standard sibling animosity (and competition for Ian’s attention, unbeknownst to her), she makes breakfast for Terry even though she’s obviously not super respectful to him as a parent, and she clearly has a solid understanding of where her family stands in the neighborhood. In a way, she thrives on that in the beginning. At but a word, she can do serious damage to somebody without raising a finger herself. Viewing Ian’s lack of response to her advances as an insult, she takes full advantage of that. In s2, we know that she is being abused in such a heinous way. She takes charge of the situation, although not in a manner that would save her from it. She leaves the house for a while to avoid Terry; she holds him at gunpoint and forces him to accept what he already knows so that he won’t hurt Ian. When they talk afterward, she even recounts what happened in a way that makes it sound like no big deal—he was drunk, and he didn’t know who she was, so it’s whatever. (It isn’t. We know it isn’t. If this is going to be her reality, however, then she’s going to own it. No one will look down on her, especially not a Gallagher who’s barely ahead of her in social standing.)

We’ll pause there because so much of how Mandy changed afterward is tied to Lip, but we can already see that Mandy isn’t like Mickey. Mickey stuck it out with his family and very clearly fell into the same trap we’ve heard verbalized by other male characters, namely the notion that men can’t be abused. It doesn’t matter that that is entirely inaccurate—that’s what they’ve been taught in their environment. That’s what’s normal to them. (That’s part of the dramatic irony in this scenario: we can see how damaging and traumatic these events are, but the characters don’t have our perspective. I don’t think Mickey sees what happened to him as rape, just like Ian doesn’t see what happened to him as grooming or assault. That’s for the audience to comprehend in terms of gravity and should add to our sympathy for them.)

Mandy is different. Women are abused all the time in their neighborhood. It’s visible, and it’s pervasive. In s3, Mandy immediately teaches Debbie how to defend herself against it. She didn’t have to learn. Like not seeing themselves as victims is part of the boys’ culture, fighting not to be one is part of the girls’. But there’s a contradiction in her life: the Milkoviches are the neighborhood badasses, and while she shares in that, it’s limited by her sex. There is something she will never be able to overcome in order to see the same return on her reputation that Mickey and Terry do, not unless she gets out, which will be extremely difficult on her own merits. She’s living in poverty and not doing well in school. Her prospects are limited—she told the counselor so. Based on that conversation and her history with boys even before meeting Ian, she clearly sees one surefire avenue to get out of this hole she’s stuck in: a man with the resources to get out and take her with him.  If she’s lucky, it’ll even be a good man with a good heart who wants to do good in the world.

Now, let’s talk about Ian. (See what I did there?) This doesn’t need to be long because I’ve already talked so much about Ian already lately, but let’s wax poetic just a bit. Ian wants to be a good person. He wants to be able to get by, even be successful, without having to do it through scamming and stealing. He has goals and ambitions, and whatever anybody thinks of those ambitions, he did it with the mindset that he would be a hero—a protector. Along with that, he never gives up. When Mandy sets her brothers on him, he doesn’t hide forever—he seeks her out multiple times to fix the situation. When he can’t get into West Point, he doesn’t quit ROTC and ignore his dreams. He keeps going.

Not only is he someone who wants to be good for himself, but he wants to be good for others too. He shows Mandy kindness that she arguably hasn’t seen from anyone else before. He takes care of his family when hers tends to focus on themselves and their own individual survival more of the time. Ian has what she would have seen as the potential to get out, and at the time, that is what he wants. It isn’t as an escape for him, but as a way to facilitate his own dreams.

The problem? Ian is gay. We can see that that bothers her sometimes because she forgets. She goes in for a kiss in s2 and has to reel back, settling for a hug instead. She gets tired of hearing him talk about Kash in s1 and kisses him to shut him up, saying she just wanted to kiss her fake boyfriend. Ian isn’t attainable. If Ian leaves, he won’t take her with him as a partner, and she can’t ask as a friend. How desperate would that seem to someone who refuses to be put in a position where she even slightly perceives him to be pitying her? She can’t ask. Not Ian. She needs someone else, someone who is also good and capable of getting out of here—who can be convinced to even if they don’t want to. Someone she can also trust and has some sort of connection with. Someone who is a fixer, and someone she can draw in with the only thing she thinks she has of any value: her body.

That would be Lip. Not only does he meet all of those criteria at the time, but she knows she can trust him. She trusts Ian, and Ian is closer to Lip than he is to anyone else—even her. No, Lip doesn’t have any convictions or real desire to leave, but he has potential. She can work with that. She’s also there for the entire Karen saga, so she knows that Lip is someone who takes his responsibilities to the people he’s with very seriously and tries so hard to cultivate that connection. (For example, feeding him, making herself sexually available as often as possible, letting him stay with her when he can’t go anywhere else without any conditions, etc. We even begin to see her distancing herself from Ian a little bit by s3, putting all of her energy into what she has with Lip when, a year ago, they were sneaking around because she said she didn’t want Ian to know about them. That isn’t to say that Ian was seeking her out either, being quite distracted with Mickey, but it’s noticeable for me.)

Like Mickey, Mandy also has a very deep capacity for emotion and affection that seems incongruous with her personality a lot of the time. Also like Mickey, nobody brought that out in her—it was always there. As much as she seemed to hope that Lip would take care of her, the process of growing closer to him led to a level of affection. I don’t particularly read their relationship as being a deep one. Both of them were using the other, to an extent, to deal with their trauma in other areas of their lives. But that sort of thing can foster a kinship, a mutual understanding that transcends time and place and even the terrible stuff that people do to one another.

So, it doesn’t work out. Mandy is hurt and does something unforgivable. She then runs from Lip, straight into what she feels is her only alternative now: an abuser. What else is there for a girl in her position? Ian was unattainable because of his sexuality, but to someone beaten down again and again, perhaps she believed he was also unattainable because he was too good a person. Lip was unattainable despite her best efforts to bridge that gap because of what he had with Karen, but to someone beaten down again and again, perhaps she believed he was also unattainable because her position in his life was to give but never to take. With Kenyatta, all she does is give. She’s embraced being beaten down because what else is there? She leaves with him, believing there’s nothing for her there.

When she finally finds her strength, far from home but hopefully under better circumstances than when she lived in Chicago, she still follows the formula that has ruled her decision-making for some time: finding a place where she can have the control over her life that was never there before, but still with the belief that what she has to offer isn’t academic or able to be built or improved upon. Ian has worked past his perception that his body was what he had to offer, that it was what would provide him with the love he was looking for. But of course, he has. He’s had Mickey to love him when he’s healthy and love him when he’s lost a bunch of weight from a depressive episode spent in bed. He’s had his family to mess up here and there but ultimately love him so much.

Mandy doesn’t have that. She didn’t then either. She got what she wanted—she got out. She even implied that that was the most important thing by telling Ian that being born on the South Side doesn’t mean that’s where they have to stay. But Ian “got out” of the spiral of abuse he unknowingly suffered and the mindset that it fostered while Mandy didn’t. This isn’t to say anything negative about sex work, of course, only the mindset that led Mandy to this point in her life. And when she leaves the house for the last time, she looks at Lip after having asked about him, and they acknowledge each other the way that people who once knew each other do.

I’ve made the joke before that to Milkoviches, Gallaghers are like catnip. It’s flippant and funny enough when we consider how many of them have dated at one point or other. I’ve also said the Milkoviches are designed as a foil to the Gallaghers, a juxtaposed image of what they could have been had their situation been altered slightly. In s10, Mickey mentions how the Gallaghers are messed up and he’s never been happier to be a Milkovich, so there’s some awareness there that these are the two notorious families of the neighborhood, albeit for different reasons. For Mandy to see that not one, but two Gallaghers are out of reach? To perhaps feel as though she’s less than even them, or made to feel that way in her interactions with Lip? It’s the ultimate slap in the face.

She trusts Ian more than anyone else in her life, to the point where she will still call him to help her hide a body long after she’s left him and their home behind. But trusting Ian led her to loving Ian, and she couldn’t have him. Trusting Ian led her to meeting Lip, and if Ian was so good and loved Lip so much, he had to be worth it too. And to her, he was. The problem was that she felt that she wasn’t.

Self-fulfilling prophecies suck: when you’re treated like garbage by a neighborhood that sees your family as garbage and repeatedly experience things that will make you feel like garbage around people with the best intentions, you’ll start believing that you are, in fact, garbage. I think what we’ve watched with Mandy is a steady decline from a place of strength in herself and weakness in her environment to an overall place of weakness that she couldn’t escape. Not with Ian and, when she realized that wouldn’t happen, not with the only real alternative she thought she could trust since she trusted Ian so deeply. 

[fistsoflightning]

10: words will not suffice

prompt: avail || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 2111

Hien does not understand the Steppe as well as he thinks he does.

Spoilers for 4.4 MSQ, Steppe portion! Disclaimer: if you like Hien and don’t see any problem in what he does *both damn times* he goes to the Steppe in MSQ, you probably won’t like this much. I could probably go on for an entire post about Steppe headcanons and tidbits I just get Salty about, but I don’t think anybody would want to read me ranting wildly [/sweats]

In this past sun of serving as his moon’s right hand—not so much a burden as it is an annoyance, with how Oktai cannot speak, but his fair hand and open mind even with an Oronir in his bed is not one Magnai would trade for the simplicity of his time as reigning khagan—he has seen much. A conflict, once, between the Orben and Ejinn over the rivers and their bounties, and a minor conflict with Ura traders coming into Reunion with potentially volatile ores from the peaks that quickly turned into a threat when several Gesi hunters had bought the ores and turned the Steppe into a minefield overnight.

Oktai had handled those with grace, even with his sibling and fellow khagan away fighting wars for the Eorzeans they had cast their lot with. Hardly needed to wheedle respect from those who had seen him, either; he’d the same, unfortunate bleeding heart of his adoptive sisters, and the stubborn temper of Zaya within his breast, unable to let anyone go wanting despite their demands without bowing his head. It had taken a few guiding steps, Magnai leading for the first few turns of the moon, but so easily he had fell into it so long as someone could speak his wishes for him.

He’d hardly had the rancor he’d expected when Zaya came fumbling home to help their brother succeed in another Naadam, and even less surprised when the Steppe yet again claimed them both of the land, both khagan still. So few souls on the Steppe were possessed of such strong will; if he were Dotharl—never did he truly wish that, he thinks in a huff—he might think Oktai and Zaya two halves of a warrior’s soul. Perhaps the land itself thought the same, giving them the same rights usually won and worn by one.

This, Magnai thinks, stifling a sigh when he lifts his cup to his mouth to find the last dregs of his tea gone, is hopefully not the fall of Oktai from his well-deserved seat into a spiralling loss of control.

He has never seen Oktai so irritated as he does now, taking his pointer finger and sliding it across the side of his left hand for Magnai to see; his sign for when he needs meetings to end. Magnai wishes he could grant that wish, but seeing as how the lordling from Doma is still sitting resolutely at the other end of the table, Y’shtola of the Seventh Dawn seated by his side and Sadu—damned woman, demanding a spar before they could begin just to see if he deserved to be seated as the khagan’s aide—practically ready to sear lines into the table, he shakes his head. Oktai’s face falls momentarily, the light purple bags under his eyes from a fortnight spent resolving a sickness among the Gharl painfully obvious, but Hien clears his throat loud enough to snap Oktai back to attention.

Magnai, as much as he despises Sadu and her every way, cannot help but agree in her incredulous stare. The other khans and khatuns were right to leave under veil of browsing the stalls of Reunion, for the wants of their own tribes.

“The Oronir have no hand in this,” Magnai grouses as Oktai’s fingers tap irritatedly against the wooden table. By Azim’s grace, he will need a cup of tea after this, if not a skin of kumis to drown the bells he’s wasted speaking in circles with this stubborn man in. “But this is no matter of a single tribe. Still you manage to test us all.”

“My deepest apologies,” Hien says with the authority Magnai expected of a man raised into rulership. “but there is war on the horizon, and I would not suffer either of our lands being controlled due to a lack of communication.”

He does not scoff at his words—it is a very near thing—though a quick little smirk does emerge for a moment. Controlled. How self-aware is he, Magnai wonders, watching Y’shtola quietly side-eye her companion. 

Oktai taps his arm, pulling his attention back to his hands; a few quick signs that Magnai hardly has the time to mull over, then a single finger held up, slowly pulled into a fist. Together.

He nods, and clears his throat, thoughts turning to weaving Oktai’s sentiments together in a way that doesn’t seem… dismissive. “As we have said, the House of the Crooked Coin falls under no sole tribe’s jurisdiction. It is a place deemed sacred to all those blessed by the Dusk Mother, from the most devout to even the Oronir, born as we are of the radiant Azim; She still deems us Hers, gifting this land with Her aether. The pillars in the Crooked Coin are no simple matter.”

“And by my reckoning, there is no issue should I gain permission from the other tribes, yes?”

Azim be merciful, he thinks, rubbing at the edges of the scales on his forehead. It is not even as noisy as the last few meetings Magnai had held as khagan in his rule, but he finds himself with a headache of the same manner regardless.

“Yes, but you—”

“You,” Sadu says, pointedly interrupting his train of thought; if Oktai had not laid his hand on his arm, a gentle hold on, let her speak in a single touch, surely this yurt would have devolved into messier infighting than that between a khagan and a king. “have not traveled far enough into our deserts to meet the Kagon; devout worshippers of the Dusk Mother. They will have your head for daring to suggest the thought, as would I. You mean to rush something that will easily take moons.” 

The Dotharl khatun’s hands twitch against her arms, faintly gleaming with an abundance of fire aether that has Magnai wondering if he should call Daidukul to bring water. 

Hien, ever blind, breaks the silence. “Cirina had told—”

Oktai’s low groan, accompanied by Magnai’s eyebrow twitching, is enough to stop Hien from continuing. The quiet noises of Reunion closing stalls and retiring fill the silence, uncomfortable as it is; a wonderful evening, wasted on hours of such tedious debate. Sadu looks distinctly unimpressed, because all his arguments, eventually, circle back to the Mol—and she lies in Cirina’s bed; this, Magnai understands well enough. The fire in Cirina’s eyes was not solely her own the last Magnai saw her, no longer wholly the ethereal maiden he’d thought he’d wanted, but even then.

“The Mol are… fearful, shall we say, of those with strength.” Sadu crosses her arms, glaring intensely at him. “Cirina is brave, yes, but not stupid. She knows who and who not to anger. Including…” She raises a hand, almost dismissively in manner, towards Hien. “You. Protector of her people when Nhaama’s child fell and shrouded our lands in smog. Warrior of the Mol, who fought valiantly for their safety during that Naadam two years past. She has led you to believe, perhaps—”

“That the other tribes might fall in line, yes. I suppose,” Hien pauses, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “‘Twould have been better if I’d brought Zaya along, perhaps. They’d seemed neutral to the plan, at most.”

Y’shtola, for the first time in several bells, clears her throat. “That was because they have been ignoring every word that spills from your mouth, not because of placid agreement.” Hien almost looks scandalized, in how his shoulders fall. “Forgive my interruption, I simply thought it prudent to be truthful than impressive.”

Oktai shakes his head in a pitying sort of way, frown hardset against his face from what little Magnai can see of his mouth from this angle, where his horns cover his expression.

“Leveraging the khagan with his sibling would not change the problem,” Magnai says, voice carefully measured.

“Then what would?” The Doman lordling comes forth with a renewed determination in his voice, despite how he scrabbles so for any foothold, any respect within this sole tent. “Surely we can come to compromise at least for long enough so I might consult with the other khans and khatuns, regardless of how long it takes. Surely you understand the dangers of the Garleans enough to—”

“Hien,” Y’shtola says, her voice a sharp, unforgiving breeze among the stifling atmosphere of the Qestiri yurt. “Enough. There is yet—”

“Is there?” Hien turns to his companion, and Oktai nearly slumps over the table, a sentiment Magnai himself reciprocates by crossing his arms firmly over his chest. How could two allies be so unable to reach a solid conclusion among themselves and hope to survive against the ironmen they fear so? “You had stated the lack of crystals in the Burn yourself; I’ve little reason to doubt there being no other deposit of aether nearby strong enough—”

Through Oktai’s hand, still resting atop his own, Magnai feels a shock of furious lightning crackle up his skin; not strong enough to harm but enough for him to know that when Oktai stands up in frustration and storms out of the yurt he has truly, finally hit his limit for the needless words of alliances and compromises from a ruler that has given no quarter, so used to his own homeland being drained of its own culture and sacred lands that he no longer sees wrong in doing the same to others subconsciously.

Magnai sighs in relief. He’d expected Oktai to allow this useless conversation to drag on longer.

“The khagan has spoken,” Magnai declares, standing from his seat. His tail aches something horrid when he stretches, kinks in his tail straightening out. The sun filters in slow through the crack in the canvas flaps, dust motes gleaming and covering Hien in a stark shadow as he remains seated. “If you truly think to convince all the tribes of your duty and its needs, first you must convince him.”

Hien’s brow furrows. “I had thought our discussion a long ways from over. The alliance?”

“The little sun has misspoken.” Sadu stands, and despite the insult Magnai is inclined to agree—he has, and now the Doman princeling has assumed. “Talks of alliances will wait. The khagan has left.”

“Certainly; quite rude of him, I might add.” Hien folds his hands in his lap, eyes misted over yet still hunter sharp, seeking a weakened point. “Has he not left his lands in danger, by denying us his approval before we have even begun to travel and visit the other khans and khatuns? Would he truly be so temperamental to quit the conversation ere we have truly begun?”

The harsh roll of Sadu’s eyes only serves to prove that, no, Magnai is not having some sort of nightmarish dream that if he pinches the scales on his nose hard enough he will awake in a Qestiri yurt instead. Shame that the only thing the two of them agree on is the merits of Oktai’s rule, and of how this discussion has long overgone its stay at this table.

Scratch the pot of tea. He will have to ask Taban for kumis if he wishes to rid himself of this horrible, horrible headache.

“If you cannot respect the time of the khagan and his people, you are not ready to speak of alliances,” he sighs. A shame; Hien is, rightfully, fit to be king—of his own people, of whom he has already earned the respect of, learned the needs and requests of like the back of his hand. “A full turn of the sun and still you have not learned, Doman, so I shall say it again.” He straightens to his full height, and Sadu barks out a laugh as she leaves the yurt, calling for Cirina and both their yols as she walks down the wooden steps. Hien, for his merit, does not turn to look bewildered at her, instead meeting Magnai’s stare.

“You have made mock of our ways since the very beginnings, Doman. Bardam’s Mettle is not a simple trial; our Naadam is not a little contest for you to win and tip the balance of our lands to win your wars. Even the Dotharl, respectful of warriors, have found you and yours wanting, and yet you continue to play at the role of magnanimous ruler. The Mol bow their heads to you out of respect for a savior and friend, not king; they let you live among them and you did not learn. Do not dare to presume so again,” he says, letting his voice rise and ring, and by the princeling’s side he sees Y’shtola shake her head. “Or you will find the khagan much less forgiving in hearing your useless words.”

[the-third-bard]

Story summary of "the voice of reason"

Aka the titty girl story

This one had way more parts than any other so this post will be pretty long

Part one

Part one is the one page at the very beginning of the book where the girl sneaks into Geratl's room when he's "sleeping" and rubs her titties all over his face. "The voice of reason" takes place before the striga so there really wasn't any point in having this be the Very First Page except to hook horny straight men.

Part two

Part two starts with Geralt waking up in the temple of Melitele after having implied off-screen sex w titty-girl (Iola, who's a apparently a water nymph and talented with magic and is psychic? Or smth?)

Nenneke is introduced and scolds Geralt for being reckless in the fight with the striga. They seem to have kind of a mother-son relationship. (Nenneke has apparently known Geralt since he was a child? Which would make her Old As Fuck).

Geralt visits this temple once or twice a year.

Most of this part is about introducing religion and the cult of Melitele. The temple he's in seems to be part-church part-school? Theres a lot of younger girls and even children who learn stuff here and then go on working as midwives, teachers, healers (specifically women's and children's diseases), etc.

Dandelion is mentioned, he doesn't believe in Melitele. Dandelion is explicitly called Geralt's friend.

Nenneke wants Geralt to go into some sort of trance with the help of Iola? I guess this will be explained in later parts.

Part three

I loved this part, the best part of the book so far.

Some White Rose dickheads have visited the temple just to tell Geralt to fuck off. (White Rose is basically nazis mixed with scientologists, and they hate all non-humans) (later they will become the flaming rose, i think, and thats like the white rose lvl 100, with like full on genocide and shit)

Anyway, these tools show up and want Geralt gone and insult him and Nenneke, but ofc Nenneke won't have that and verbally beats the shit out of them. One of the dudes, Tailles, challenges Geralt to a duel for his insults and Geralt mostly laughs it off.

There's not a lot of plot here, the whole chapter reads as if it was an imaginary political argument Andrzej Sapkowski was having in his head where he was winning and he decided to put it in the book. I allow this because any form of dunking on nazis is good.

Part four

This part is LITERALLY Geralt just? Going on a 4 page rant? He literally does not stop talking once during the whole thing. It's a solid wall of just Geralt talking at this poor girl (Iola, the tiddy girl, who can't talk)

He talks about, in order; religion (*), swords, kaer morhen, parents, the trials, his first monster (**). Witchering, the "code" (***), Blaviken (****), and Ciri (*****).

Throughout this whole this Geralt like, answers questions? That I'm pretty sure he makes up to keep talking? He's like "... Vesemir- oh, who's Vesemir, you ask? Well he's my dad obviously-" Cus Iola is mute and she's never described to like, look questioning or even interested in what Geralt is saying. He does this 9 times.

* Iola has taken a vow of silence for Melitele and Geralt respects her decision. He tells her there is power in faith and that his own lack of faith holds NO POWER, which I thought was really neat (especially for a 20 year old Polish book).

** it's the story he told Renfri in ep one! (saving a girl from being raped (also 13 years old :/ ) He also says he did what be did because he wanted the girl and her father to be grateful, and not because it was the right thing to do. He'd been raised to fight monsters and he'd romanticized the idea in his head that he'd be so cool and appreciated, which I think is really interesting. It also shows his growth as a character from then to now, and the fact that he admits to this is also very neat.

*** Geralt totally just made up this "code" and apparently said it so much that everyone fucking thinks all witchers have a code when it literally is just Geralt. I really wanna know what the other witchers think of this.

****

Geralt needs therapy

***** Geralt berates himself for doing the law of surprise, and says he'll never return to Cintra and will just, avoid it forever I guess. (Yennefer and Ciri are apparently born around the same time in may!)

Part five

Geralt is in the library in the temple, he appears to be failing to read a history book.

Dandelion comes in the door and Nenneke absolutely destroys him.

She leaves and Dandelion and Geralt talk.

The world is changing, and witchers' work is becoming hard to find. Geralt is being negative about it and Dandelion tries to cheer him up a bit, distract him from his woes.

He says Geralt should adapt to the new world, change careers. He says that if the demand for poetry and music dwindled he'd become a gardener.

Dandelion gets pretty deep, and it was more than it expected from Sapkowski if I'm honest.

/... /

After this Dandelion changes the subject to make Geralt feel better.

Part six

Geralt and Nanneke is in a grotto that Nenneke uses as like, a greenhouse for magical plants. There are glowing crystals in the ceiling.

(Nenneke talks a bit about how the sun has changed? And the rays are deadly and kills plants and how it's "too late" to save people from it?)

Nenneke talk about how pissed Yennefer is at Geralt for some reason, and Geralt seems to be avoiding her (Yen) at all costs.

For the striga contract money Geralt has bought some precious gems, and gives some to Nenneke for the temple and wants to give Yennerfer the rest. He wants Nenneke to keep them for him until Yennefer comes to the temple looking for him so that she can give them to her? While he's ran away to somewhere else cus he's a little baby.

Nenneke refuses to help him with it because she's way too cool for that and calls Geralt out on being a big baby.

This is where Yennefer's infertility is mentioned, and Geralt says she can use the gems to (partly) pay for "the treatment".

They talk a bit and we find out that some sorceresses have "atrophied" ovaries and that that is because pursuing magic apparently fucks up your endocrine glands? Which would fuck up significantly more than just your ovaries (also this shouldn't be a thing just for female magicians? Why are all the male magicians totally fine?)

(Nenneke is hinted to be fertile as well as Geralt's mother in picture 1)

Nenneke is still trying to get Geralt to do some telepathy therapy stuff with Iola and he's also a big baby about this, even though he's absolutely TRASHED right now and doing the therapy would heal him up so that he can use his signs and fight again.

(it seems like after a near death, witchers lose their witchering skills? Nenneke says Geralt's reflexes aren't what they're supposed to be, his pupils don't dilate properly, his heartbeat is faster than normal aka 'normal human speed' i guess, they can't do signs. Would Geralt be human if he just let it be?)

Part seven

As Geralt and Dandelion leave the temple, they run into a whole bunch of guys. It's the dudes from part 3, expecting a duel. If Geralt refuses to fight, he'll be hanged, but if he injures Tailles, he'll be punished. They want him to give Tallies the fight to raise the dude's street cred. They explicitly want Tailles to "nick" Geralt's skin.

I thought Geralt was gonna like, prick his finger and yield but what actually happened was funnier and more clever. So kudos to Sapko for this.

They start fighting and Tailles sucks, obviously. The boy puts his sword in front of himself defensively and Geralt just, smacks that thing with his own sword so that Tailles' sword cuts him in the face.

This way, Geralt's sword never touched him and he can't be punished. I thought that was real neat.

(Geralt is totally banned from Ellander now but it was worth it)

Geralt and Dandelion leave, and Will Not Tell Nenneke About This.

The part splits and we see what happened as Geralt and Dandelion were leaving the temple.

Geralt and Iola touch hands and this triggers a vision. It's a vision of death and blood and monstrous paws. Iola collapses and has a seizure.

Nanneke saw it too, and begs Geralt to stay in the temple, but because he's Geralt he obviously decides to ignore the whole thing and leaves.

This is how the book ends

[limited-practice]

Sunder and Hubcap are a couple of my favourite characters that have a lot of potential and are fun to write, so I wrote a quick thing today just to give them some attention and to practice writing them.

1688 words of Sunder and Hubcap talking on board the Lost Light are below the cut.

[Just imagine that Various Things happened and everyone’s together in one place and no-one’s dead]

>I was born in the deep dank shadows you know. I breathe and bleed them, and if my doctors hadn’t corrupted me so thoroughly I would breed them too.

Hubcap’s wide eyes roll slowly towards the door of the room that he and Sunder are in. 

A huge reinforced metal bar holds it closed, which means he can’t use his Outlier abilities to re-route an electronic signal to unlock it, open it, and make a quick dash through it before it’s too late. The door is mechanically locked with a formidably heavy bar to prevent Sunder controlling someone and forcing them to raise it. No-one except the strongest bots can even hope to lift it, and the strongest bots are banned from this room.

Everything about this plan of containment is stupid, but Hubcap’s used to the people in charge making short-sighted decisions that will hurt people so he’s not surprised. Unsettled, certainly, but not surprised. Very few things surprise him now. 

“That’s, uh, nice?”

Hubcap debates calling for help on his internal communicator. He can do so silently so that Sunder never has to hear him, but the problem with this plan is that other people will hear him. They’ll know that he couldn’t last more than two seconds with Big Bad Scary Sunder locked up in his Impenetrable Containment Cell before he wet himself and cried for help.

Hubcap takes the Cybertronian equivalent of a deep steadying breath, his gears and levers whirring softly as they strain and turn, and looks back at Sunder. 

The mnemosurgeon is standing in his custom made cell as if he’s not at all surprised he ended up there. He’s gripping a bar with one hand and looks like Ruined Death. 

Hubcap takes the Cybertronian equivalent of a dry swallow. He once again reassures himself that Sunder can’t physically escape the invisible containment field surrounding his cell. The Lost Light’s top engineers created it, and their work is solid. He also reassures himself that Sunder can’t remotely access anyone’s memories and control them or turn them inside out. Hubcap wrote the containment field’s code that blocks Sunder’s remote abilities and embedded a neural block into Sunder’s brain module himself, and his work is even better. 

But it’s difficult to feel safe and secure when Sunder is looking at him like that. Sunder’s eyes have been removed and being subjected to Primus knows what, but he’s still looking at him. 

“So, uh, the cell is working well,” Hubcap rattles. “It’s good. I mean it’s not that good for you since you’re behind it, in it, but it’s, err, good for me because I’m not. And you are. It’s working. Um.” 

If Hubcap could sweat his frame would be soaked. This is ridiculous. He’s got nothing to fear and nothing to feel nervous about. He’s the good guy here. He’s the expert that was brought aboard the ship to examine Sunder’s innate remote abilities and devise ways to block them. 

>Your work is good. 

“I know,” Hubcap says without thinking. “I’m excellent at what I do.”

 Hubcap’s eyes widen further, this time in horror at openly bragging about his unique abilities. “I, uh, only meant that-” 

>I know what you meant. You don’t have to hide yourself with me. We are similar, you and I. 

A range of emotions stutter and skip across Hubcap’s face. Relief that he hasn’t been mocked or subjected to a bitterly jealous backhanded insult. Gratitude that Sunder acknowledges and appreciates his work. Irritation that Sunder is daring to compare himself to him. 

“I don’t think so.” 

>We are both blessed with unique abilities. We have both been praised and betrayed and ignored and used. We are both helpers. We are both murderers.

“We are not alike.” 

>Perhaps if you looked inside yourself you would see that I speak the truth. 

“Perhaps if you didn’t look inside so many people yourself then you wouldn’t be where you are now.” 

Hubcap really hopes that Sunder’s cell is impenetrable in every sense of the word, he really really does. 

>That is also true.

Sunder’s dark and booming voice has now swallowed a layer of humour. 

>But we did what we did and we do what we do because we are who we are.

Hubcap’s familiar enough with self-centered aggrandizements from people who think they’re unique and special that he can let Sunder’s pompous words wash over him easily.

“That, uh, yeah. I guess. But I’m not like you. Not in any way that counts.” 

Sunder steps closer to the bars and grips the one held in his hand tighter. His shadow streaks across the floor. 

>Is that so? 

Hubcap taps a finger against his thigh. He should be scared. He should be worried. He should be halfway out the door by now after throwing all shame away and calling for help. He should not be looking at Sunder with narrowing eyes and an itching desire to argue with him. 

“It is. And you can stop putting on your Mortilus act with me. It doesn’t scare or impress me.” 

>I don’t have to read your memories to know that you’re scared of him. 

Hubcap doesn’t respond for a few seconds. His mind skips back many years ago to when he was a Cadet being drilled by Roadbuster. 

“I’m not scared of Mortilus,” he says simply. “But I am scared of what people who believe in him can do.” 

Sunder’s facial pipes vent cursed steam. 

>I believe in him. 

“If Mortilus comes for me he’ll kill me in a painless instant,” Hubcap continues, his mind still in the past. “He won’t take me to the brink and leave me there broken. He’ll be quick and sure and do the job right.” 

>I can do the job right. 

Hubcap’s attention fast forwards to the present. “Can you? Can you transform me inside out slowly? Gear by gear and plate by plate and rivet by rivet? Can you draw it out for months and months and months and months? Because if you can’t, then you won’t be doing it right.” 

Sunder doesn’t respond. Hubcap doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Sunder is wondering what happened to him to give him such bleak fatalistic confidence and such a hollow smile. Hubcap’s physical recovery from his ordeal was perfect, but there are some things in him that can never be healed. 

The steam venting from Sunder changes. It reduces down from a thick belching grey to a lighter wispy white. 

Hubcap blinks. “Besides,” he says, addressing Sunder’s earlier comment, “You can believe in Mortilus all you want and dedicate your life to him, but your abilities to hurt anyone have been amputated. I helped see to that.”

Hubcap knows that his stuttering vanishes when he’s on a righteous roll. He should find some way of recording his speeches and insights so that he can preserve them. And share them. Pipes would get such a kick out of hearing him like this. The speech he gave to Prowl in front of Tarantulas and the Wreckers was a classic, as was the one he gave to Prowl when they were on that walkway together. He thought that there was someone else lurking in the shadows behind them, but there wasn’t. He and Prowl had escaped and no-one else had appeared which was obviously good but also disappointing, because no-one else had heard him put Prowl in his well-deserved place yet again. 

Sunder’s venting steam vanishes in a hiss. 

>Is that so? 

“You’ve already said that.” 

Sunder tilts his terrible head and his lips approach something like a smile.  

>Apologies. Let me choose another phrase: Are you sure that all of my abilities have been removed?

Hubcap opens his mouth to say yes of course I am, but the words die on his tongue. 

>Would you bet your life on it? Would you bet others’? You may not like sharing commonalities with me, but you have experience in living with things you’d prefer not to. I see it written all over your patched up frame. You are cracks and darkness patched up with transparent tape. You are hurting, and people choose not to see through into it. 

Hubcap crosses his arms over his chest. “Yes. Your, err, abilities have been…removed. Curtailed. They- they cannot work anymore. You’re broken. You’re the one that’s broken.” 

Sunder sits down on his recharge slab.  

>You have my condolences. You may not be able to repair yourself, but you could help me. 

Hubcap feels his eyes widen again. “…what? What do you..?” 

>Fix me. Remove the neural block you put in my brain and fix me. Make me whole again. Allow me to be myself. 

“That’s, uh, what?” Hubcap’s voice cranks up several octaves in panic. “I mean- what? You really-…? Really think I’m going to- to do that? For you?!” 

>It’s a possibility. I’m an optimist believe it or not. But if you don’t do it for me, then you should do it for yourself. You are eaten up with guilt and regrets. Put one of them to rest and help me. Help yourself by helping me. You don’t have to be such a selfish little bot all the time.   

“That is not who I am.”

>That’s exactly who you are. 

“I’m an Autobot!” 

>So am I. 

Hubcap closes his eyes and puts his hands on his head. Everything is throbbing. 

It’s time to go. 

Hubcap calls in to control to report that his inspection is complete and Sunder is safely secured. The door’s great bar rises up and the door is unlocked. 

Hubcap looks through the open door to the brightly lit corridor beyond, but stays where he is. 

>Same time next week? 

Hubcap fiddles with his fingers. “…yes. That’s the next time I’m scheduled to check in on you, so…yes.” 

>You did not say no to my request for help. 

Hubcap looks away and takes a step through the door. “Goodbye Sunder.” 

Hubcap takes another slow step forward and then another and another and leaves the room and steps into the light. 

“Goodbye Hubcap. Until the next time.”

[tjkiahgb]

Listen, I got so caught up in Tyrus Week, spending hours and hours going through tags and liking posts and queuing reblogs, that I pretty much pushed everything else to the side. (Plus I’ve also been working on the next thing I’ll tell you guys about in the next few days.)

All that is to say, I got a lot of stuff in my inbox this last week, so I’m just going to tackle a bunch of them in... A LIGHTNING ROUND.

Let’s go.

And before you ask, yes, I made a graphic for it.

Looks like this Andi Mack finale party has turned into... a death party.

Would’ve been a strange choice for Terri Minsky to turn the finale of Andi Mack into a murder mystery, but if that’s what she wanted, I’d trust her.

I don’t watch that show but I know some people who do and they’ve told me it’s just light and airy and pleasant, so, yeah, sounds right up Cyrus’s alley.

You guys are shouting Lightning Round! every time the graphic comes up, right?

I, like TJ, am just some guy. I tell everyone who asks to call me Jay. Jay is long for “J”, which is short for another name that I, also like TJ, only let people related to me by blood or my soulmate know about. I will say it’s not Jagger, though. I wish.

That wasn’t my intention while writing TJ and the Gals, but as with all art, or whatever TJ and the Gals was, once it’s out of the creator’s hands, it belongs to the people.

No.

Thelonious Jagger Kippen Is A Hashtag Good Boi.

Shoutout to my FAQ page, where you can find information like this and more. Not blaming you, anon, I’ve gotten this a lot and the FAQ page is hard to find. I mostly just delete the question and let the anon live in mystery because I’m chaotic something. I’m only answering this now because it’s the

You know the shook_bitch? Thank them from me for getting Disney Channel to respond to them, and congratulate them on being the subject of the best comment the Disney Channel Instagram account ever made.

Yeah, I went back and checked and Jonah only says in 3x12 that his dad made a bad investment, not lost a job or anything.

It really seems like he’s been managing the Judy Bartholomew fortune all these years. We don’t know anything else of him other than he was once a background workout video guy and he has at least enough knowledge about baseball to coach little league.

Hopefully the new job is providing him with a solid salary, but if not, I think the world is ready for a Judy Bartholomew comeback.

Judy Bartholomew: Still Trottin’ After All These Years

I’m not entirely sure exactly which girl we’re talking about here. I think this one:

I will say, she does seem into it. She’s like, oh, things are about to get gay in here.

Honestly, there were so many background actors killing it in this scene.

You’ve got this guy...

...who hears the beginning of “Born This Way” and reacts like it’s ruined his evening. I mean, I was a little tired of it, too, when it was being played on the radio over and over and over, but it’s been some years. It’s not overplayed as much anymore and it definitely wouldn’t make me this upset. (He pops up later in the song and is happily dancing, so maybe he thought it was the beginning of a different song?)

Then there’s this girl...

...who is feeling it. She’s like, hell yeah, this is my jam!

And there’s this girl in the goggles...

...who, after TJ and Cyrus sing the “be myself, respect my youth” part, is like, okayyyy. I see you.

Here’s a fun(?) behind-the-scenes thing for this blog. A few months back, I was thinking about ways to replace “Moments” if we had, by some miracle, gotten a season four, since I would’ve run out of moments weeks after the finale. What I came up with was “The Random Andi Mack Extra of the Day.” It would’ve just been screenshots of random extras throughout the show’s run. Upon some reflection, this was a bad idea.

The first problem here is that I get the feeling those posts would’ve gotten, at most, 20-30 notes each, because no one really cares about random, out of context extras and it doesn’t seem like a thing people would want to reblog.

The second problem is, knowing myself, I probably would’ve spent hundreds of hours during the hiatus between s3 and s4 making 1000 of them in the first place, just so I could have them ready to go. I would’ve absolutely done this without testing the waters first to see if there was any interest. (Just like with the “Moments.” I made like 300 of them before I made the first post about them.)

So, the most likely scenario was going to be me, two weeks into “The RAMEotD,” looking at flopping posts, then looking at my folder of 800 screenshots of Andi Mack extras and going, “Well, what am I going to do, not post them? I already did all the work!” And I would keeping queuing them up, and they would keep appearing on this blog every day, and they would taunt me with their 22 notes. You remember the work you did? IT WAS FOR BUT A PITTANCE!

So I guess what I’m saying is maybe it’s for the best. The cancellation saves me from myself.

Hey, though, heads up. If and when you go back and watch the series again, pay attention to the extras -- the unsung heroes of the entertainment industry. There are some extras reallllly putting in work on this show. It absolutely adds to the delightful quality of Andi Mack. Every time I would spot someone in the background being goofy or really overselling whatever they were supposed to be experiencing, it filled me with joy.

It’s a fun show. Everything about it is fun, including the little details.

Ooh, a serious one. This is going to be my first ever hybrid Discussion/Analysis post.

Okay, so I think we’re talking about two different things here.

I won’t argue that I think Tyrus could have absolutely happened sooner and been explored more.

I obviously can’t say with certainty, but I assume that was at least somewhat the plan leading out of season two. The setup for their relationship was all already there by the end of it. They’d met, they had bumps, they grew really close, and they capped the whole season off with TJ looking back at Cyrus. All the elements were in place that you could jump right into this storyline in TJ’s next appearance. (Not necessarily them canoning, but at least the exploration of TJ’s feelings or some movement towards canoning.)

When Cyrus’s lookback happened, it was addressed in the very next episode (granted following a break in seasons). I don’t know that TJ’s would’ve been as immediate, but I don’t think you have him look back in the season two finale if you don’t intend on truly paying it off for 21 episodes. (Or, at least 13, if you want to say 3x13 was the real start of a storyline involving TJ’s homosexuality.)

So, yeah, look, I’m speculating wildly, but I would imagine the original creative idea was to address TJ’s lookback early in season three and start getting into it, and that, yes, that idea was likely kiboshed from above.

What I will argue is that the bench scene is subtle but not ambiguous. We’ve made the semi-joke constantly around here that there’s “No heterosexual explanation for this!” but, truly, there is no heterosexual explanation for the bench scene: two boys, one of whom has already explicitly stated he’s gay, slowly reaching for and holding each other’s hands, intertwining their fingers while they sit by the fire and stare into each other’s eyes, nervously smiling. This is something that has been built towards for multiple seasons. If you’ve been watching the show, if you’ve been paying attention to it, if you care about the characters, especially TJ and Cyrus, it’s very clear what’s happening here.

This feels like talking about people who weren’t sure Cyrus was gay after the first two times he came out because he didn’t use the word. Or people who thought Cyrus wasn’t gay anymore after he said his crush on Jonah was gone. I sympathize with some of the younger set who maybe don’t have the world sense to follow along with this, but, come on, at some point, we’re three seasons in and you have to keep up with the level of the storytelling. I don’t mean this in an insulting way, but if someone can’t get what’s happening here, then maybe this whole thing isn’t for them. Maybe if all they know right now is that Cyrus is gay and accepted and happy, then that’s good enough, and they can hold onto that idea and grow with that and catch the next train, whenever it comes along. Maybe this moment is for all the people who get it.

That’s about the kids in the casual audience. Now, if we’re talking about an adult homophobe -- one who would express the kind of outrage that we believe Disney fears -- it’s a different story. If an adult homophobe is really watching that scene and thinking, “Seems pretty straight to me” then it feels like it doesn’t matter what they would’ve done in the finale. They could’ve said “gay,” they could’ve said “boyfriend,” Cyrus and TJ could’ve lead a pride parade down the street outside Celia’s house while blasting -- well, I was going to pick a gay song here for the joke, but probably “Born This Way” would be the most appropriate one, so -- “Born This Way” from loud speakers, and that homophobe would’ve been like, “Nice parade.” As ignorant as homophobes are, even they are not that dense. An adult pretending Tyrus isn’t a couple after the bench scene requires a level of impenetrably willful ignorance.

Anyway, the truth is that angry homophobes aren’t watching the show. They never do. They like to read headlines and get mad, but they’re cowardly and, most of all, lazy, and they don’t like to put in the actual footwork. They like to leave comments on articles they haven’t read, about shows they haven’t watched. They like to post reactions to stuff they see in their Facebook feed or send one sentence responses like, “There goes Disney Channel!!!” or “What is happening to our country?!?!” And then they like to scroll on to the next thing that will feed their sad rage about how the world is changing around them.

If you want to think about Disney censorship as a way of preventing those homophobes from being outraged, it’s not the textuality of the scene itself, it’s the placement at the end. Delaying them canoning until the finale just makes for less work. Show’s over. There’s nothing to defend. No one’s signing a petition to get a show off the air that’s just aired its last episode. Most of the articles written will be about everything happening in the finale, and Tyrus would just be a part of it.

And that is more or less what’s happened. Just about every major article I’ve seen about the finale has discussed Tyrus, and discussed them as textually getting together -- again, there’s no ambiguity there -- but has also brought them up in conjunction with what happened with Andi and Jonah, with Muffy getting together, and with Andi getting into SAVA. And the articles themselves tend to largely be about the show ending as a whole and its impact. (No one needs to send me articles trying to prove or disprove this. I’ve been over a lot of them. Some are more Tyrus focused -- the ones in the gay media for sure -- and some just mention it -- more traditional media sources. This is the general gist of most of them.)

So the article headlines mostly read “Andi Mack Finale” or “Andi Mack Ends Run” or something like that. The homophobes -- who, again, aren’t watching the show and are getting all their information about it via article headlines -- see those headlines and don’t even remember Andi Mack was the show they hated from two years ago because their rage is mostly performative and short-lived. They get mad in the minute but forget about the specifics of the stuff within a day.

Like I said in the recap, I won’t argue that there’s a scene with more that wouldn’t work, but I personally don’t see the bench scene as not having accomplished everything it needed to.

Oh, that went longer than I thought it was going to be. Not very lightning round of me.

This actually got sent a while back but it was still in my inbox and I figured I’d throw it in here in case the anon saw it. Lightning round!

Sorry, anon, I wasn’t ignoring you and I appreciate you reading my old recaps, but you were the second anon to piece together that I am actually blessed with psychic powers.

I don’t really have any plans to, sorry.

I had only planned to do one set before and after the finale for Tyrus Week, but I will point you and anyone else interested in making their own TJ and Cyrus texts to this post I made that should give you the basic tools needed for the job. (Use them! You wouldn’t believe what a pain in the butt it was to get that background clean like that!)

Thank you, honestly. That’s so, so sweet. But I have no plans to do that.

Like I mentioned at the start of this post, I’m working on something now that I’ll tell you guys about shortly that’s look-backy and will hit on some stuff from those seasons. (Though not in the same vein as the recaps.)

The recaps take a long time to produce, and as much as I’ve loved this show and this fandom, I will be honest and tell you guys I am sort of planning my exit.

This blog has become something of a part-time job for me. Not in the work sense because I have truly enjoyed all this, but just in the time sense. I’ve put a lot of time in and I would like to rededicate that time back toward other things I’ve put on hold for the last year and a half.

It’s starting to feel like making you shout Lightning Round! each time was a mistake now that I’m answering stuff seriously or sadly.

I was getting emotional multiple times while writing it, because of the show, because of the fandom, because of this whole journey we’ve all been on together.

I appreciate you saying this so much because that’s what I’ve always hoped has come through in the things I’ve written about this show. That I’ll make jokes or point out holes or goofy details or whatever, but that I couldn’t do this -- I couldn’t commit myself to this as much as I have -- if I truly didn’t love the show. That everything I’m doing here comes from a place of love and celebrating the show and embracing it for its good stuff and its silly stuff.

It wasn’t a perfect show, but that was always what made it kind of perfect.

Thanks for the asks. Thus ends the lightning round.

[louu-7]

everything i don’t know

on wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/222647460-everything-i-don%27t-know-jj-maybank

CHAPTER 10:

My sight become distinct again and I throw myself on the ground to puke my guts out as my body shiver and get colder. I stay in this position for a while, in the dark, in front of a bush, and disgusted by all the remarks I received in less than a minute.

A hand is suddenly touching my shoulder, making me jump of surprise as I look up. The hand’s removing from my arm and my eyes are crossing his. What the…

“What do you want, spit in my face in person?”

“No, no I just wanted to see if, you were OK.” Kyle declares as he observes me, in this pathetic situation. “Yeah, look at me, I’m at my best, you can go back to the party I don’t need nobody, even less a kook who thinks I’m a bitch.”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch, I always saw you as a smart girl, kinda chill.”

He sits next to me, while I’m on my knees, as ridiculous as possible. My father’s maybe right, I’m kinda stupid right now. “Don’t stay with me, I’m good.”

“And if I don’t wanna go?”

“I’ll go by myself to be alone.”

“And I’ll follow you.”

I sigh a little and spin around to sit more properly, and look at him. His eyes are diving into mine and I frown and look away. Oh, shit. That’s him. He’s got a crush on me. And I forgot about it. It’s Kyle, and my brain didn’t do the comparison...

I purse my lips as he continues to let his eyes wander over me, with shamelessness and tirelessly. Oh God can someone save me right now…

“I think I’m gonna go.” I stand back up and my stomach starts to hurt again, even more than a bit earlier… I wince and my body makes me understand I can’t walk for now. But I can’t stay with him either. “Please go, we can talk later if you want but leave me alone.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, hurry, please, I needa be on my own.”

I fall on my knees again and he leaves, a sigh is coming out of my mouth and I can take things easy as long as I’m on my own. All the words are repeating on my mind without any break, and tears can’t stop running on my cheeks at this point, because it hurts me.

Maybe I’m looking like I’m strong in front of people but I’m not, I’m human, and I think everybody would be affected by all these remarks that I received from hundreds of people, without help, because the crew was certainly as disconcerted as me.

My stomach is hurting because of stress, and a sentence is in repeat in my head even more than the others. ‘Why aren’t you killing yourself’. At least I know how kooks can be nasty when they’re angry. Maybe that I already knew that about them before, but I’ve never been confronted with so much hate and senseless rumors.

It all started with the things I ‘said’ about the pogues, things I never said in my whole life. Now it’s about things I ‘said’ about kooks. The question I need an answer of is… who hates me that much to make everyone spitting at my face this way? I didn’t think I had enemies, but they should talk to me rather than spread rumors about what I say or no…

“Hey, I was looking for you babe, how are you…?” I look up at Sarah and manage to faint a smile at her, a little deformed, by the pain in my stomach, and the voices shouting out in my head. My eyes are burning so bad… “Good.”

“Thara don’t be too affected by all these fucking rich assholes, c’mere babe.”

“I’m not affected I just don’t understand why they…” My voice crack and I look away to hold back the tears in my eyes, and she sits next to me to hug me, with so much kindness, that my heart melts in my chest. “I’m fine, let’s go back with the others.”

“Girl you’re crying your heart out, we’re not coming back with them, they’re gonna come here, we’ll be better without all these-”

“No, that’s OK. Let’s go, I didn’t came here to stay out of the party.”

I stand and my body hurts, but it’ll pass. The pain is in my head, so if I stop thinking about these free insults that I gently received, everything will be alright. Sarah wraps her arm behind my back and we catch up with the boys.

“Good?”

“Yeah, they’re just jealous of me, nothing serious.” I laugh a little and sit next to Kie, who’s laughing with me. “I guess you never said that?” I shiver when I cross JJ’s blue eyes as his deep voice resonate in my head.

He made everyone shutting up, I owe him something, because even if we don’t like each other, he ‘came to my defense’ in a kind of way, and I appreciate that.

“No. I’m a kook myself, why would I say that on them? Bearing in mind that if I said all these shits, I would’ve spit in the girls faces. I’m not the bitch everyone’s seeing in me right now.”

“Of course you’re not. We may not know each other that much but I know you enough to see a chill girl who wanna have fun.” Pope’s raising his shoulders, looking at me, then at the crew.

I smile and look down, embarrassed to know what he really thinks about me. I’m not used to these kind of ‘compliments’. “Thara’s the better best friend, of course she’s a chill girl who wanna ave fun.” Sarah leans on me and laugh as I do the same, hugging her. “Let’s talk ‘bout something else,  I don’t like to talk ‘bout me.”

The discussion restarts on the same topic as before Nate’s intervention, and I share us my plan. It’s not really a plan, it’s more… something I can do to look deeper in that shit. While we’re here in circle, some kooks are enjoying to slight me or tell me off, but I manage to ignore them. They’re all sheep who are following Nate.

Anyway, I explain that I need to go downtown, to look into the old document of my family. I know that everyone of the richer kooks family are listed at the library, and it’s of course confidential. This is the first thing that came in my mind to start to find something.

“Go to hell!”

“Why were you born, fucking slut.

“Stay home if you don’t wanna have issue. You’ll finish dead if you don’t.”

I don’t even make the effort to look at their assholes faces and show them my middle finger as I break out in a cold sweat. A quiet sigh is coming out of my mouth discreetly and we continue to talk.

“Are they really gonna try to kill you?”

“No, they’re not brave enough to do anything. Now can we stop talking about ‘em and go on with our main topic?”

“These men are sayin’ they’re gonna kill you.”

“Nah, I’m OK with Thara, these kids are wasting their breath, they won’t have the balls to do anything.” John B agrees and JJ’s nodding his head to agree at his turn. “Be careful anyway, we never know.” Kie smiles gently at me and I do the same as I nod.

All these kooks are talking, because it’s easy to spit on somebody’s face, but when it comes to act, nobody’s here.

~

The kegger is done, it’s 4pm right now, we talked a lot on what could we do. After a long search, we decided that to begin our researches, we had to build some solid bases if we want something that’s holding up. So, tomorrow I will be going downtown, to the library, to make some serious research about my family, because if we start, it’s probably best to start with the beginning.

The thing is, they all insist that someone needs to come with me, because of all the threats I received tonight. I wasn’t against the idea, until John B and Sarah told me that they had lunch with the Cameron’s, and Pope and Kie apologized because they had to work with their parents.

What does that means? That JJ is supposed to come with me. We’re both not OK with this decision, and I don’t think he will be there tomorrow to take the ferry in the morning, around 10am. To be honest they make us agreed, but when we looked at each other it was obvious that we weren’t that fine with the idea.

It’s better for everyone if I go by myself anyway, at least if they don’t want to get one of us dead… I can’t even imagine passing the whole day with him. And they will never going to let us come into the library if he dresses up as usual… God it’s gonna be a mess, and passing around nine hours with him is not going to be an easy job.

It’s not my fault if he’s bad-tempered. Maybe he thinks the same about me. Maybe he thinks more something like ‘How am I gonna pass a whole day with this kook who’s getting emotional at every minute of her life.’ Yeah, maybe more that… But I don’t know, it might be the best day of my life, we will see tomorrow...

I get up out of my bed, in pajamas, for a change, and go downstairs to get some food. Why am I such a food lover… and after I’m complaining about gaining weight… Anyway I grab a cereal bar in the cupboard when I hear someone coming into the kitchen.

“Did I woke you up?”

“No, don’t worry darling.” My mother smiles a little at me and I do the same. “Was the party as good as you thought?”

“Yeah, yeah it was… intense. Nothing crazy, but I’m dead. Oh and, I was wondering if I could go downtown tomorrow?”

“It depends for what, do you need something? I maybe can get you what you want.” Her eyes stare at me, like she was trying to guess why by herself. Like she knew that I would lie to her...

“It’s to go to the library, I need new books to read, and I have some researches to do, about philosophy works, it’s so interesting I need to know more. I open my snack and she seems to think about my request. “I think you can go, only if you promise me you’re not going over there to see anyone. You go downtown to study, not to have fun with pogues.” A bit of disgust is present in her voice when she pronounces the pogue word. Ridiculous...

“Mom I only saw them once, and it was on a birthday. I can swear to you I never saw them since this day, and I won’t do it again. The thing is Sarah’s not one of them, she’s a kook, like us… and she’s my best friend...”

“I know, you understood that your image is important. I will talk about the Sarah case with your father tomorrow and we will tell you if you can see her. Now go to sleep sweetheart.”

“Yeah, thank you mommy, I love you. Sweet dreams.” She comes to me and kiss my forehead before I live the first floor for my room. I finish my cereal bar, happy that they are going to think about Sarah. Maybe they also understood I need interaction with people, not just them.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face I dive in my fresh sheets and fall asleep in less than a second because of the fatigue I got inside of me.

~

I’m in front of the ferry, everyone’s getting in but I’m waiting for my bodyguard of the day to show up. The boat’s going to leave in two minutes, and JJ didn’t even let me know if he was coming or no, and I’m here, waiting for someone that I don’t really hold close to my heart…

“Miss, the ferry’s gonna leave in a minute.” An inspector walks to me and I wince. “I’m waiting for someone, just a second please…” What is he doing…

I suddenly frown when I see a blond head running towards me as fast as possible. When I recognize JJ’s face, I’m surprised just as peeved. “There he is…” I whisper, kind of amused and embarrassed at the same time.

He arrives in front of me, out of breath, and looks at the inspector. “Mister, have a good day, I think we gotta go.” He walks vigorously to the ferry and I stop him by saying his name, already tired of him. “We maybe have to give our tickets…”

“Tickets, noo.” I don’t think he understood the man next to me is an inspector until he puts his eyes on him and see his outraged face. The blond comes back next to me and wince before whispering ‘i kinda forget this little detail’. “By good luck” I look in my bag. “I got two tickets.” I grab them and warmly smile to the inspector.

“Thank you, have a good trip lovebirds.”

“Ugh, we’re not, hum, yeah but thanks, have a great day…” We move away toward the ferry and I wince as JJ seems to be shocked. “How could you forgot about a ticket like, did you really thought we would be able to get in without anything?”

“I was late, ticket wasn’t my priority. What is wrong with this man, how could I be with you-” I raise my eyebrows and look at him, who’s also looking at me, as we get in the boat and walk through the corridor to take place on our seats. “Shut up. Let’s go outside.”

JJ follows me with a crooked smile on his face, and we arrive outside. The weather is perfect, the sun shines and reflects on the clear water of the sea. The waves are kind this morning and the wind is not to powerful. Perfect to have a trip in ferry. “Do you know that we’re not gonna be allowed to come in the library if we get inside like this.”

“Like how?” He looks at me, his arms leaning on the security barrier. “Your clothes… I mean, the problem isn’t your style, but the first impression is important and if you’re not dressed properly, the security isn’t gonna let us come in.”

“So what, I have to dress like a kook to come into a library?”

“Kinda…”

“What the… I don’t wanna look like a… twerp in a penguin suit.” He winces and a bittersweet smile’s drawing out on my face. “Do I look like a twerp in a penguin suit?” I laugh and he steps back to look at me, pulling a face in disgust.

I show him my beautiful middle finger and look back at the sea to ignore him. I feel like this day is going to be long, but, to be honest he seems to have got out of the right side of the bed. A pretty good thing if we have to stay together from now until tonight.

“Gonna be the worst day of my life…”

“Shut up, I paid your ticket.”

thank u for reading me, have a great day!! ^^

[missjosie27]

Year 1 Part 4- Gobstone Gauntlet

As it turned out, David was not the only one to run afoul of Merula Snyde during the first few weeks at Hogwarts. To be sure, he was the target most of the time, but it seemed that her bullying reached all across the four houses in one form or another.

Some were just rumblings. He had heard a few Ravenclaws complaining about her attempts to one up them in Defense Against the Arts (not that it mattered since apparently the professor barely did anything to begin with), but other incidents were plain as day to see. A Hufflepuff girl came in crying one day in Herbology because Merula had threatened to hex her if she didn’t get on her knees and apologize for accidentally bumping into her on the stairwell. And to no one’s surprise, she tended to prey on the unsuspecting muggleborns the most.

“You’re the only one who’s managed to stand toe to toe with her so far,” Ben Copper said to him at lunch one day. “Everyone else is just plain miserable.”

“Yeah, well don’t forget I didn’t exactly come out of potions unscathed,” David told him taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Seems she’s intent on hurting anyone who won’t acknowledge her as the greatest thing since Merlin himself.”

“She’s been harassing me since the day we were on the train,” Ben said, pushing away his pumpkin juice. “Every where I go, she’s there calling me ‘mudblood’ and worse.”

That brought several sharp glares from those within earshot. Even Jae had a shocked look on his face.

“Are you kidding?” Rowan said, nearly spitting out his drink. “That’s one of the worst things you can say to a muggle born wizard!”

“No kidding,” Charlie Weasley agreed. “One of the worst things you can say period. Ben, why didn’t you tell us she was doing this?”

“I didn’t think anyone cared to be honest,” he replied with a miserable shrug. “The past week or so I’ve been the one following her, so she can’t sneak up on me. At least I’d have the chance to run away.”

David felt a tremendous amount of sympathy for his deeply insecure friend. But just one week of experience with Merula had taught him that avoiding someone like her would only prolong the problem, not solve it.

“Mate, you gotta stick up for yourself. She’ll back down if stops thinking you’re a soft target.”

“You’re not a soft target and she goes after you all the time,” he pointed out.

“I’m a special case,” Dave joked. “But in all seriousness, she won’t go away unless you show her you can’t be pushed around.

“Exactly,” Rowan agreed. “Plus, we’re Gryffindors. It’s what we’re known for. Logically speaking, we should be the ones standing up to her.”

“I appreciate the help,” Ben said grabbing his bag. “But you were all meant to be in this house. There’s nothing about me that’s remotely brave. I think I’ll just go hide until flying class.”

They all watched as he left the Great Hall, some of the Slytherins jeering as he walked by. Some of the other Gryffindors shook their heads at the display, but David and company knew better. Their only wish was to give some semblance of confidence to their friend.

“Man, I’ve never seen someone so scared of…well everything,” Jae observed.

“You would be too if you came from a muggle family and someone started treating you like rubbish because you weren’t ‘pureblood’,” David countered. “Even so, I do have to admit he’s pretty shaky at the moment. There has to be something we can do.”

“Maybe flying will cheer him up,” Charlie offered. “We have our first lesson today. Personally, I can’t wait to hop on a broom. I’ve been practicing all summer and I’m going to be trying out for the house squad once I’m a second year. Who knows, maybe Ben will take to it?”

“Statistically, it’s impossible to be afraid of everything,” said Rowan, using his usual book smarts to try and solve a problem.

“Might actually be true in his case,” Jae said, not looking up as he tinkered with some device that looked like a fanged frisbee. “Anyone want this by the way? Half price.”

David gave a quick glance over to the Slytherin table where Merula was currently bragging about something in her usual exaggerated manner. He wasn’t sure what was going to help bring Ben out of his shell, but he did know that it was going to be a hell of a lot harder with the Slytherin girl becoming a walking menace.

Perhaps he could attempt to remedy that.

“Hey Rowan, can I ask a favor mate?”

“Sure, Dave! What do you need? Notes on the Gargoyle Strike of 1911? Some information on the kind of wood on the brooms we’ll be using today?”

“Better than that. See if you can’t dig up something on Merula and her family history. Something tells me she’s got a lot more to hide than she lets on.”

Rowan gave a mischievous smile.

“I like the way you think. I’ll head straight to the library after flying class today.”

David nodded his thanks. He could handle Merula’s barbs, but he would be damned to see anyone suffer needlessly under her yoke. He had written to his parents about the situation, and they had both encouraged him to keep his head down, stick to his studies and ignore her.

That’s their solution to everything, he thought, bitterness creeping into his mind.

They could be idle all they wanted. As for himself, David Grant had other ideas.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Welcome to your first flying lesson, everyone. My name is Madam Hooch.”

Indeed, the name seemed to suit her personality and her profession. Her hair was spiky and tufted to go along with a pair of piercing, yellow eyes.

“For those of you who have some experience with a broom, I assure you, this is not the class to show off or attempt any foolish maneuvers. For those who haven’t, I can also assure you there is nothing to fear. We are only lifting our brooms and hovering in the air.”

“That’s still something to fear,” David heard Ben mutter behind him.

It was a bright, sunny day, reasonably warm with a gentle breeze. Perfect conditions for flying. David himself had never actually ridden a broom before due to his parents’ strictness of no magic outside of the home. He was actually looking forward to it.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Madam Hooch said, ushering them forward. “Stand on the left side of your brooms and begin.”

David attempted to cheer Ben up as they walked over to the their cleansweeps.

“Come on, Ben, it isn’t so bad.”

“You come from a wizard family,” he said, quite hesitant to even go near the broom. “I’m from a muggle one, the idea of riding in the air on a broom is terrifying.”

David put his arm around Ben’s shoulder in a display of solidarity.

“You can do this, I know you can. I may come from a wizard family, but I’ve never ridden a broom either. We’re both starting fresh, okay?”

Swallowing, the nervous Gryffindor nodded and reluctantly joined the rest of the class.

“Now, in order to raise your broom,” Madam Hooch continued. “Hold out your hand and say ‘up’. You’ll want to be firm in your tone, or else it won’t respond.”

The class complied, some achieving mastery right away, others barely getting any kind of movement. David’s jumped a number of times, but it did not fully raise into the air. It was also quite difficult to concentrate over the sound of Merula’s incessant bragging.

“I really wish they had let me bring my broom from home instead of this rubbish. No wonder I can’t get it off the ground. Otherwise, I’d be flying circles around everyone just about now.”

“The reason you can’t get it off the ground, Snyde, is because you won’t shut up.”

The Ravenclaw section of the class began snickering.

“Zip it, Egwu! Just because you got it on your first try. I don’t see any of these other losers doing so great. Copper over there is hopeless.”

David looked over to Ben, who indeed was struggling to get any kind of response at all, his lack of desire to get off the ground quite clear in his voice. Merula’s constant insults weren’t helping. That brought an idea to his head.

“Ben,” he said nudging him. “Watch this. Hey Merula!”

“UP! What?!- OW!”

The rest of the class, even some of the Slytherins began howling with laughter as the lapse in attention had caused the broom to smack her straight in the nose.

“You’ll pay for that, Grant!” she said through her hands covering her face.

Ben was laughing too and in a rare moment of relative calm, David knew it was the perfect opportunity.

“Now, Ben. We’ll say it together.”

Nodding, they both spoke the command, causing their brooms to shoot straight into their hands.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Madam Hooch said, cutting off the laughter with her sharp tone though her eyes indicated a small degree of amusement herself. “Now the next step is quite simple. Swing your leg over the broom, raise yourself ever so slightly off the ground. Do not push off.”

The results, again, varied. Some students fell sideways as they tried to hover, others achieved success right away. Indeed, Charlie Weasley was having the time of his life, the spark alight in his amber eyes.

“Easy does it there, Ben,” David counseled as he swung his leg around. “Just lift up slightly. There you go.”

Both Gryffindors eased themselves no more than a couple feet and managed to stay there for a solid five seconds.

“Look, Dave! I’m actually doing it!”

“Indeed, you are,” Madam Hooch praised, a genuine smile on her face. “I have observed you both the whole time and I must say I am quite pleased. Mr. Grant, your conduct in helping one of your classmates has been exemplary. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Madam Hooch,” he said, a bright smile on his face, as she went off to assist other students.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Ben admitted, a sheepish grin on his face.

“You just need to get used to it. If you want, we can get some books from Rowan about flying. Might help us both.”

They turned to see Rowan struggling rather heavily on his broom, unable to keep his balance and falling to the ground.

“Seems like he needs to read a little more himself,” Charlie joked as the three boys laughed.

“Anyway, thanks for helping me again,” Ben said Dave.

“No problem, mate. I’m telling you, before this year is over, you’re going to wish you didn’t have to go back.”

He nodded at Charlie, who reciprocated the gesture. They had managed to overcome one of Ben’s fears for the time being. With any luck, they could continue to do so.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hogwarts proved to be a learning experience for pure blood and muggle born wizard alike over the course of the first month. Even those that came from old wizarding families like Charlie had adjustments to make- he ran afoul of the Bloody Baron one day while walking back from the library in the evening.

All of this ensured that Ben was not feeling left out in his struggles adapting to life as a wizard in a world very unfamiliar and sometimes dangerous. His fear may have been much higher than that of an ordinary first year, but it wasn’t completely irrational.

To the delight of his fellow Gryffindors, Ben managed to discover upon a few things he had natural talent in. The first was charms. Though Dave had summoned the best wand lighting charm, other spells were not quite so simple, and Ben constantly managed to finish at or near the top of the group in terms of performance. Though flying remained an uneasy task for him, he also happened upon wizard’s chess and took a liking to it. By the end of the month, he was the best player in the entire first year. Indeed, the only real issue was the consistency of confidence. In private moments with no threat of judgement, Ben was just as casual and outgoing as anyone else. But it could be shattered quite easily if someone said the wrong thing or worse yet, Merula came into play.

The Slytherin girl was relentless. So much so, there were rumors even Professor Snape had to intervene to corral her behavior. Despite almost being maimed by Devil’s Snare, David had more or less learned to counter her constant jabs and bullying. Ben and many others had not. One thing was nearly universally agreed upon, however, at least among the non-Slytherin houses. Merula Snyde was the worst thing that had come to Hogwarts in a long time.

On top of that, the workload was increasing as they entered into the meat of the school year. Though only first years, it still involved plenty of essays and practical application. Rowan was practically the only one enjoying it and many of the older students warned them it would only get harder from here on out.

So, on one crisp October day, David and Rowan agreed to unwind a little and relax with a game of gobstones in the courtyard. David wasn’t exactly keen at first, he much preferred Quidditch, but with the first game between Gryffindor and Slytherin still a month away, there was nothing better to do.

“I’m glad you agreed to at least try it out, Dave,” Rowan said excitedly. “I even brought my own set from home. I lend you the spare.”

“Sure thing,” he shrugged. “I just can’t wait for the Quidditch season to start.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never played Gobstones before,” he said as they walked down the stairs and into the courtyard.

“There’s a reason for that,” David quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, I used to play it back home on the farm all the time.”

Rowan liked to bring up his parents’ tree farm, sometimes to the annoyance of those around him.

“Mostly because I wasn’t strong enough to help with the actual farming. But it’ll be fun to play with an actual person for once.”

David raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t get out much, did you?”

“No. But then again neither did you.”

“True,” he admitted. “But it didn’t used to be like that. Mum’s strict, but we used to go out and do things all the time- go to France, shopping in Diagon Alley, etc. That is until…”

He didn’t have to explain further as he trailed off. He wasn’t the chatty sort when it came to talking about his past but Rowan knew enough. Once Jacob had disappeared, it had put a massive strain on the Grant family.

“Say no more,” he said. “We’re just here to play some Gobstones. I’ll show you everything, okay?”

“Thanks, Rowan.”

The young Gryffindor, despite his bookishness, was deeply empathetic and eager to help those who needed it. David didn’t say it openly often enough but he did appreciate it and it was one of the reasons Rowan was quickly becoming one of his best friends.

“Any time, mate. I know the first month has been pretty mental with Merula, Snape, and all the rest. Which is why Gobstones is the perfect remedy. It’s kind of like those marbles muggles use, except when you lose a point you get sprayed in the face.”

“With what exactly?”

“No one knows but it smells terrible,” Rowan said enthusiastically as though it were the greatest honor in the world.

“Fantastic.”

Rowan laughed as they sat down in a lone spot in the courtyard and began setting up the game.

As it turned out, Gobstones wasn’t as bad as Dave originally thought it would be. It certainly had a reputation for being ‘uncool’ for a reason but proved to be rather entertaining. Rowan explained the rules and though it took him awhile to fully grasp the rules he understood the basic gist- basically you had to capture all your opponent’s gobstones and when you lost a point, the stone that was captured squired a substance that smelled strongly of old socks and bad eggs, in which case it was best to keep your distance to avoid any lingering smell on your clothes. After playing four consecutive games in which Rowan won easily, David decided to play a little trick.

“Hey Rowan, I just remembered. I think Professor McGonagall said we had to write two extra rolls of parchment for the latest essay.”

His eyes widened in surprise. And gave David the in he was looking for.

“Really?”

With a small flick of his wand, he switched the places of two of the stones, causing the substance to spray over Rowan.

“Ack! No fair, Dave!”

David began roaring with laughter, hardly being able to feign innocence.

“Sorry, Rowan. Couldn’t help it, you’ve been kicking my arse all day.”

“I do get competitive when it comes to Gobstones,” he admitted with a laugh. “I know most people don’t think it’s all that cool, but I always say it’s the thinking wizard’s Quidditch.”

The good times couldn’t last, however, as a familiar feminine sneer entered their ears.

“Well isn’t this precious?”

Rowan and David leapt to their feet in reaction to Merula’s arrival. No wands had been drawn but the tension had already increased tenfold.

“Gobstones?” she scowled, noticing the set in front of them. “You two losers really were made for each other.”

“Something you want, Merula?” David asked, in no mood to deal with the Slytherin girl right now. “Or can I get back to my life? Which looks amazing without you in it.”

“You think you’re so clever with your little jokes and sarcasm,” Merula said, her face taking on vicious leer. “But while you’ve been playing around with losers and mudbloods, I’ve been doing a little research on your brother.”

“Fascinating. Now are you going to leave us alone?”

“Never, Grant. I told you this was just the beginning. You’re a stain on this school just like your brother and I’ll never stop until you’re gone just like him.”

Rowan just looked confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Grant’s brother didn’t just get expelled for endangering the school and chasing some imaginary vaults. He immediately went missing and the next time he was seen, he was working for Voldemort.”

Rowan cringed at the name, but for the first time at Hogwarts, David could feel his temper rising to a dangerous level. His brother was not a comfortable topic to begin with, to insinuate he became a Death Eater was beyond the pale.

“My brother didn’t join You Know Who,” he said to her with a little more aggression in his tone. “I suggest you shut your mouth about things you know nothing about.”

“I say what I want,” she shot back. “No wonder half the school thinks you’re mad, they probably think you’re going to join him at some point too.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Rowan stepped in, knowing David was not going to hold his anger much longer. “I did a little research on your family, Merula. Apparently, your parents are currently locked up in Azkaban for supporting You Know Who during the war.”

“And you think I’m the one at risk?” David added. “You’re practically a Death Eater in training.”

Merula’s leer turned into an ugly frown. He knew he had gotten to her.

“You don’t know anything about me!”

“Please, I don’t need to know anything except for the fact that you’re a spoiled brat who got whatever she wanted in life. Except Mummy and Daddy aren’t here anymore, so you take that anger out on everyone else.”

Merula draw her wand and pointed it directly at David’s chest.

“You take that back,” she said, her voice quivering in anger. “You take that back, or we duel right now, and I promise you’ll be sorry.”

“You aren’t worth the dirt underneath my shoes,” David mocked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do.”

He attempted to brush past her, but evidently, the Slytherin girl had far more moxy than he originally gave her credit for as he felt himself knocked back by a tremendous force and into the fountain, soaking him from head to toe.

“Knockback jinx,” Merula spoke quietly, but with her smirk returning. “Learn how to duel before you say things you can’t back up.”

Her triumph assured, she walked away without so much of a thought towards challenging Rowan, who immediately went over to assist his friend.

“Are you alright?”

“Been better,” David grunted as he took Rowan’s hand to lift himself back on his feet. “I suppose I should blame myself for being naïve. Every time I think she can’t get any worse, I’m proven wrong.”

He sighed, wishing the drying charm was part of the first year curriculum.

“Come on, let’s go to the common room and get you into some better clothes,” Rowan indicated back up the stairwell.

“I’m more concerned about this getting around,” David remarked as they began their trek back. Indeed, he hoped that whatever resulted of this, it wouldn’t result in anything other than a private humiliation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That hope also turned out to be naïve. Within the next couple days, the news spread like wildfire that Merula had bested him in a duel and though certain details had been exaggerated (no, his head had not been turned into a pumpkin), it caused him to endure a series of jeers and taunts in the hallways, mostly from Slytherins who looked for any excuse to take a Gryffindor down a peg.

David did his best to ignore such pettiness, but the problem was far outgrowing his ability to handle. Merula wouldn’t relent her ceaseless bullying until someone actually stopped her, but no one had the courage or ability seemingly to do so.

It was only when his prefect intervened one evening in the common room that the wheels of change began to be set in motion.

“Grant.”

David, who currently was hanging out in one of the armchairs with Rowan and Ben, trading chocolate frogs (a personal favorite of his), didn’t even bother to glance back to see who it was.

“I do have a first name, you know.”

This was followed by a heavy sigh from Angelica.

“David, please turn around and look at me.”

The resigned calm in her tone did finally cause him to acquiesce to her request (the hilarity of Rowan losing his frog notwithstanding).

“I heard about what happened with Merula.”

“You and everyone else. Luckily for you, no teachers were there so I didn’t lose any house points.”

“This isn’t about house points,” she said pointedly. “It’s far more important.”

“More important than house points?!” he mocked in fake outrage.

“Damn it, Grant! Will you cut the jokes for one second and listen?! I’m trying to help you.”

This got Ben and Rowan’s attention as well. Angelica was usually lecturing them not assisting.

“Help me?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job as a prefect if I didn’t help you defend yourself. This Snyde girl is a rotten little beast and I want to ensure you don’t lose to her again.”

David was now completely bewildered.

“You make it sound like I’m going to duel her again.”

“Aye, you are. People like her go looking for trouble and it will inevitably find you again. Except this time, she’ll be the one looking foolish.”

“And what were you proposing we do?” David asked, his undivided attention completely centered now. “Are you going to train me?”

“Technically, I can’t. Being a prefect, McGonagall would have my head if she found out I trained you to duel another student. But I know and have talked to someone who can.”

The last sentence took on a mischievous inflection. Oh, this was serious alright. If Angelica, ever a stickler for being by the book, was in on this he had to do something.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he replied in the affirmative.

“He’s on the training grounds,” she replied, giving him a scrap of parchment. “This is a pass giving you permission to be out after hours. He’s waiting for you there now.”

Taking the pass, David looked back at Rowan and Ben, who despite looking anxious also appeared excited.

“You have to do it, Dave,” Rowan encouraged.

Ben agreed whole heartedly.

“You’re the only one who’s been capable of standing up to her so far.”

“Then the training grounds are where I’ll go.”

But before he could leave, Angelica had some parting words for the first year under her charge.

“In a weeks’ time I want to hear about how you put that vicious little brute in her place.”

The understanding couldn’t have been clearer. David nodded, and as he walked out of the common room to head to the training grounds, he could feel a newfound respect increase for his prefect.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he finally arrived on the grounds, it was initially hard to make out just who it was that had volunteered to train him due to the setting of the sun, it’s light ever decreasing this time of year. But it didn’t take more than a few seconds to figure out as a tall red headed figure came into view.

“Bill?”

“Nice to see you again too, Dave,” the third year said with a laugh. “I’m sure Angelica told you the reason why I’m here.”

“To help me against Merula,” David answered affirmatively. “But are you sure? Angelica’s a prefect so she can’t get involved, but you could still get in trouble too.”

“As you’re probably aware, I know what happened between you and that Slytherin girl. After I heard the story, I took it upon myself to approach Angelica about it and of course, she agreed. I’m not an expert when it comes to dueling, but at the least I can show you a few spells that you can use to protect yourself.”

David knew that Bill was being modest. Though only a third year, he was already known for his top marks and natural talent in his spellwork. It was rumored he could go head on with any of the older students in a duel.

“That means a lot, Bill. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said warmly. “Seeing you best the Snyde girl will be thanks enough. Though you may not know it, plenty of the upperclassmen are getting sick of her too. Above all, you need to know how to defend yourself properly, something this year’s defense teacher hasn’t addressed.”

David gave his thanks once more and without wasting any time, the two boys began.

The first fifteen minutes were dedicated to form and technique. The eldest Weasley demonstrated a proper stance and the best situations to attack, defend, and breach someone else’s defense. Once David got the hang of that, it was time to learn a few curses.

“So what in particular did you have in mind?” the first year asked, curious as to what Bill might have in store.

“There’s a number of spells I could teach you,” he said, thinking to himself. “But to save you any odd questions from the professors, we’ll start out with some basic ones. The three I had in mind are the disarming spell, the leg locker curse, and the trip jinx.”

David nodded and so they got to work.

The first one they attempted was the disarm spell or ‘Expelliarmus’ as was the Latin incantation. It was quite simple and not so difficult to master, as it required a simple flick of the wrist and good aim.

The trip jinx was also quite simple and only took a matter of five minutes to master.

The leg locker curse was trickier. It required a little more raw power than the average first year had and a higher amount of concentration. David’s first dozen attempts to cast it on a dummy fell flat, but eventually his efforts paid off as he cast it successfully about an hour into their session.

“That’s it! I think you got it for sure, Dave,” Bill praised. “We’ll need to keep working of course. But for now, this is a good foundation to build on. We’ll meet twice a day this week, once in the library and once on the training grounds to fully prepare.”

David felt better than he had in days. Everything the populace had said about Bill was true, not only was he a talented wizard, but he was also a fantastic teacher and knew the ins and outs of when to push and when to withhold judgement.

“Thanks, Bill. Honestly, you could teach defense this year better than that other guy…I can’t even remember his name.”

“Me neither,” Bill laughed. “And thank you, I’m flattered. Like I said, we’ll continue this tomorrow. We should probably get back to the common room, that pass isn’t going to be good for much longer.”

Indeed, it was almost fully dark and no professor who caught them outside of curfew would be able to escape giving them detention. But as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, David could feel himself being filled with determination and the drive to put an end to Merula’s tyranny once and for all.

The rules be damned, he would see to it.

[hoodoo12]

Violations and Consequences (2/6)

A rescue. Violence. Death. Minor mention of deities and what may or may not be appropriate for Orcs.

Part 1

Mature.

“Worthless swine!” a thick voice hissed.

Before either of you could react, a heavy warhammer made solid contact with the man’s temple, crushing it with a dull wet sound. The blow was so hard his body followed as his head lolled, flopping him to his side. Tangled as you were in his limbs, you were thrown sideways too.

“And you, filth--”

But before the insult and threat was completed, the bandit you’d lacerated scrambled to his feet and crashed away through the undergrowth.

Instead of chasing the bandit, your savior took you upper arm and you were hauled to your feet.

“Volesh!” you cried in a gasp.

Being thinner than her brother didn’t make her less solid or intimidating. Grar’s sister stood like a rock, holding you steady as your knees threatened to give out. With one hand you found a grip in the chestplate of the armor she wore. The other still gripped your knife, and she held your wrist to keep it away from her. The tall female Orc watched where the bandit had run off for a moment with a scowl on her face, then turned her attention to you.

“Are you injured?”

“N-no,” you replied, sniffling a little. Now that you were safe, your tears returned unbidden.

The Orc ignored your weak human emotion, and kept an arm around you.

“Ghath!” she called.

Silently, her son appeared at your side. The boy was barely double digits and his tusks were just starting to show but he was as tall as a grown human and muscular. Although nowhere near the bulk he’d gain when he was an adult, he’d match many human men in strength already.

“Mother?” he asked quietly.

“Collect the goats while I attend to your aunt.”

You were sure he would much rather chase down the man who attacked you, but he didn’t complain. Immediately he went off to fetch the livestock.

Volesh took your shoulders and looked you over. “You are sure you are uninjured, sister? You are covered in blood.”

“It isn’t mine. I cut him. With this.” You opened your hand to show her your knife.

Her dark eyes widened and a small smile formed around her tusks.

“That’s good,” she praised, but didn’t explain the cryptic response. She told you to wipe the blade clean on the ground and return it to its sheath around your neck.

You complied even as you insisted your weren’t hurt; she demanded to check you over. You hadn’t realized your skirt had been torn, and your undergarment was ruined beyond repair. The Orc found blood in your hair from a wound on the back of your head, where you’d hit the ground. You were bruised in various places: your upper arm, your shoulder, and a few that were darkening on your inner thighs where the men’s grip had been too tight. You barely felt them, but Volesh wisely told you from experience that you would be stiff and sore tomorrow.

You assured her that you had willow bark and other medicinal plants to ease the discomfort.

“You and your alchemy,” she replied, with a shake of her head.

You wouldn’t think to call yourself an alchemist, but she told you her brother should consider supplying you with an alchemy lab, so you could truly create potions. That was neither here nor there at the moment, however. You asked how she and Ghath came by you.

“We knew Grar was traveling. I have finished some of the items you’d requested from the forge, so we thought it was a good time to visit.”

“It was good timing!”

Volesh told you that she’d planned on coming alone, but Ghath wanted to see his Blood-Kin, adding that the boy was fond of you. You knew that, even if he was sometimes shy around you. As if talking about him summoned him, your nephew returned, driving your small herd of goats in front of him.

He carried one kid.

“This one has died,” he said quietly.

It was the kid that had approached the bandit, and had been shoved away. He must have used enough angry force to break its neck. You sighed and ran your hand over its side, sadly. The brown and white kid was the first to have been born from your tiny herd.

It was upsetting, but there was nothing to be done.

“He was a wether,” you said. “He was going to be sold or butchered anyway. It just would have been when he was older. We can take him back to the cabin and have an evening meal.”

Ghath offered to carry him for the trek back to your cabin. You nodded. For a moment you considered continuing on to the pasture where the shepherd would be waiting for you, but you were starting to feel the beginnings of aches and pains. The goats would have to forage near the cabin today.

As the three of you--plus the goats, who didn’t seem put out they weren’t headed to the pasture--trekked back to your cabin, you asked how they’d found you.

“We heard your scream. Your trail was easy to follow; Ghath saw the faint deer trail and goat spoor, so we ran to you.”

“You’re becoming an excellent tracker,” you commended your nephew. “You’ll surpass Grar’s skills soon, I bet.”

The Orc boy blushed and pushed his hand through his hair to keep it off his face; he wasn’t yet old enough to wear it braided like an adult. He mumbled something about wanting to be a hunter like his uncle. His mother didn’t reply, but you’d learned to read subtle Orcish expressions and she wasn’t entirely pleased with that life goal.

Instead of continuing to talk about it, you changed the subject, asking how they managed to arrive at the cabin so efficiently. The Stronghold that was their home was several days hard travel.

“We have horses!” Ghath exclaimed.

That surprised you. Orcs didn’t typically keep horses because the standard equine was hardy but too small for them to ride comfortably.

“I was shoeing for a stablemaster and they had two coldbloods that were too large for men to ride,” Volesh explained more completely. “They’d been trained for cavalry, but an oversized horse isn’t ideal. Too big a target. He offered them to me at no cost, just to get him out of his stable, so I earned my coins and two beasts as well!”

With that explanation Ghath launched into telling you how saddles made for men weren’t fit for Orcs--although, he admitted, he could use them just fine for now--and he and his mother had to learn to ride, and how his father was both pleased and dismayed at horses in the Stronghold--

Volesh shushed him. You knew it was for sharing personal information about a Chieftain, even if he wasn’t within earshot. It was understandable why horses would be both a blessing and a curse: they could help with travel or breaking grounds for crops, but their upkeep wasn’t quite as easy as other livestock. You supposed the Chieftain also weighed Orcish traditions versus modern sensibility; he seemed to be a little more progressive than other Clans may think appropriate.

Even after being shushed Ghath had continued on about how he’d learned to make leather halters and bridles and he was in the process of creating a harness. His next big project was a saddle large enough for an adult Orc that was still appropriate for the horse--

Volesh gave him a light slap on the back of his head as he rambled on. The boy took it for the affectionate tap it was and grinned for a moment before finally stopping his chatter. You were closer to home now, the cabin just visible through the trees, and he hurried ahead of the two of you.

You would have picked up the pace too, but the aches you hadn’t felt initially were finally catching  up. Your sister-in-law stayed by your side, and in the few minutes of privacy you had you heard her thoughts that the boy didn’t have the fortitude to become Chieftain, that he had a temperament more like his uncle’s and maybe he would end up living outside the Stronghold too.

You heard the uncharacteristic worry in her voice, and reminded her that Grar did well for himself. And with her teaching Ghath forging plus what seemed like a natural affinity towards horses, your nephew could find work as a smith anywhere in the Holds. Good blacksmiths were always in demand.

She sighed and reluctantly agreed.

Finally back at the clearing with your cabin, the goats wandered to the stream to drink. Ghath introduced you to the horses. They were incredibly tall, much more than the typical stocky breeds, with thick necks and legs like tree trunks, but they were gentle. The boy picked up their large feet and brushed back the feathering that covered the lower part of their legs to show you the shoes he’d helped hammer out and nail to their hooves.

He also showed you the rivets he’d put in their halters, and told you how they’d arrived dusty and with patches of their winter coats that he’d brushed out until they were sleek, and he’d untangled their tails and shaved their manes and how he’d been measuring to get the proper sizes for the harnesses--

Ghath may have continued for a long time if Volesh didn’t remind him that you needed to clean up from the attack in the woods. Sheepishly, her son apologized. You hadn’t minded; it was nice to hear his enthusiasm even if it was boyish, but she was right.

With an increasing limp, you took a clean dress from the cabin and slowly made your way downhill a bit further to the pool Grar had created with a dam. The goats were further downstream. You stripped out of your apron and found it wasn’t easy to pull your dress off over your head; your muscles were tightening and made it painful to stretch. Still, you forced your way out of the fabric and stepped carefully into the pool.

For a moment the water swirled a brownish red before the color was carried downstream. You hadn’t realized how sweaty and dirty you’d gotten, nor how blood had caked into your hair as you watched the dirt float away. The bruises made themselves more known as you dipped yourself lower.

Gingerly you washed yourself of the grime with the soap and rags that had been squirreled away in a cache of rocks nearby. It seemed odd to be bathing midmorning.

Unbidden, the events of the morning flashed through your mind’s eye and suddenly you were crying. You were so reckless to not be paying attention to your surroundings; you were so careless to leave your dagger home after all the times Grar had told you not to! You were lucky be only mildly injured! Through your sobs you praised the Nine Divines for watching over you and promised a tribute to Stendarr, the God of Mercy and Luck, especially.

Calming gradually, you splashed water on your face. A tiny bubble of anger popped in you, and you finished your prayers with a word of thanks to Malacath. He wasn’t your god, but guided your husband and his people, so it was only appropriate to acknowledge him as well. If Volesh and Ghath hadn’t felt compelled to visit, you wouldn’t be here at this very moment.

Finally, having dawdled enough and worn yourself out with crying and anger, you exited the pool. You dried yourself with your apron--you knew it would be useful today!--and pulled the fresh dress over your head. The other’s skirt was too torn and bloody to salvage much except for rags. Gathering it into a bundle, you made your way back to the clearing.

In your cabin, you quickly swallowed the herbs and a tincture that would help with the soreness that was growing inevitably stronger, then you went back outside.

Your Blood-kin had skinned and cleaned the kid. Because you weren’t sure what Grar may want to do with the hide, you told them to leave it hanging. Volesh brought out and showed you the new spit she’d created at her forge. This wasn’t the first way you intended to use it, but she and her son built a fire in the outside pit and set the wrought iron spit over it. You helped by having bowls of salt and pepper available and mashing garlic and rosemary to form a paste to flavor the meat.

Once the fire had been banked down to coals, the meat was seasoned. Even though the sun beat down overhead Ghath sat by the fire, tending it. You and Volesh nestled potatoes and root vegetables into the cooler coals to bake. You still had to strain the milk you’d collected this morning and you’d wanted to harvest the early peas from the garden, but all of the sudden you were too exhausted to stand,

Volesh told you to go to bed. You tried to argue; it was lazy to take to bed in the early afternoon!

The Orc scowled at your stubbornness and reminded you that you’d been attacked several hours earlier. Would you allow anyone seeking your help, after going through what you did this very morning, to continue to work? Or would you tell them that rest was needed, for the body to heal?

You scowled back at her because her words were true. Your nephew laughed and remarked that if your skin wasn’t so pale you’d make a good Orc with an expression like that.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the observation, adding that you’d learned from the best, which made even his mother chuckle.

Finally, though, you couldn’t argue and went into the cabin to lay down. Volesh followed, and with your instruction created a poultice of daisies and tallow. As often as she made a withering comment about your ‘alchemy’, she knew the benefit of it. She helped spread the paste on your bruises and bound them with clean strips of cloth, then left the cabin, leaving  you alone.

  tbc . . .

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Thorn (Loki x ofc)

Requested 11/15 by Anon to @loki-the-fox : cAn I rEqUesT mY bAbY Loki trying to convince himself that he isn’t falling for the rouge female warrior in Asgard, but ended up being saved by her in some sort of uber bad back alley brawl ((Unrealistic ik i’m sorry)) and then finally comes to terms with the fact that he fell way to hard for the beautiful warrior that should technically be jailed ((I’m sorry i’m not creative but like I love ur writing and shnuff and I uber duper super wanted to see this written by you <3<3 I LOVE YOU SM))

Well… This is awkward… I’m not @loki-the-fox but hopefully you like it just the same.

Loki x ofc, minor warning for violence, implied smut.

Summary: Young Loki ventures out of the palace into a tavern in a nearby village believing that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence where he repeatedly meets a smart mouth young woman who isn't fond of the royal family. It's hate at first sight but when she's mistaken for a whore and Loki's snide comment is matched by Blair's as she takes the last word. Loki's left to deal with the patrons who take it as a sign of weakness in the not so well loved Prince. When the fight spills outside the young Loki is no match for men who have him outnumbered he finds himself a unlikely savior and a messy scene. Perhaps he's let his station color is views as much as she had.

Thorn

Loki’s swift steps took him farther and farther into the village just outside the palace city. In the distance he could see the golden palace even now and how the sight of it made his stomach churn. His breath came out in angry huffs.

He was beyond angry. How dare they disregard him, yet again. He was smarter than Thor. He was smarter than Odin. Why could none of them see his potential? It angered him to be cast aside as if he was not good enough, as if he was nothing.

He had to get as far away from the palace as he could. It was the only way he could get some space and think clearly. It wouldn’t do him any good to scream at Odin. It wasn’t worth the punishment and he was bored of fighting with Thor.

Regardless, when Thor tired of his words he would use his fists. His elder brother was much stronger than he physically and his sorcery was still a skill he was developing. In time he hoped he would be able to hold his own or even surpass his brother’s brute strength with it.

Pushing open the doors, he took in the smoky tavern. It stank and the air was thick. It was loud and crowded. It was everything he thought he needed and he came here more and more often. There was only one seat open at the bar, regrettably near the hotheaded woman he know to be called Blair.

He hated her and her snide comments. He didn’t ask to be born royal and she could never understand the pressure and stress his title put on his shoulders. She thought he had it so damn easy but what meetings did she have to attend to? What structure was required in her day? She got to do all she wanted, when she wanted. Lucky bitch.

What Loki didn’t realize that she thought the same of him. In her eyes he thought he was so much better then her. Living the easy life in the palace and being served left and right must be nice. The royal family clearly didn’t know what it felt like to do a solid day’s labor.

Yet somehow they always seemed to end up sitting next to each other in the tavern. As she shot down gruff man after man asking to take her home. Some even offered coin for the right to claim her for a night causing Loki to scoff next to her.

“You’re not worth any more.” He snidely spoke into his mug of ale.

“And you know the going rate of bed warmers? I guess you would, how else would you get a woman into your bed.” Downing her drink, Blair tossed some coins on the bar and left.

Loki didn’t even have a chance to bite back and she was gone. He’d never been so thankful for a woman to leave his side. She was bash and crude. How dare she speak to him in such a way. He’d have no use of women of the night, he’d have any woman he wanted. He was destined to wed a Princess in time.

“Oh you’re just going to take it.” A man down the bar commented, laughing into his drink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Only a little royal bitch would let her talk to him like that.”

That’s the last Loki could recall as rage clouded his mind. Surely he said something back and insults where shot back and forth. Somehow they ended up outside. Turns out the large man had some just as large friends. They each had as much if not more bulk on them then Thor.

They didn’t fight in any way Loki had seen before. For a start, all five of them rained down on him at once. They fought with no honor or respect. To them, they could have been beating a dog instead of a man. Loki only managed to land a few blows in his attempt to defend himself.

“Why don’t you boys pick on someone else?” A voice called out.

Loki knew that voice. It was her voice. Pulling himself up on his hands and knees, he saw her from in the distance between the legs of one of the men. As much as he hated her, she didn’t need to get beaten even if the situation was her fault. He wanted to tell her to run but she looked down right arrogant.

“Leave.” How he wished his voice sounded stronger but it gave way to the pain of his broken ribs.

“You want to play, lil girl?” One man licked his lips in a revolting manner as he spoke.

“Oh I’ll play your game.” Her hips swayed in a sensual wave as she walked closer.

“Damn right we will. We’ll leave the little prince alone if we can have you.” She laughed right in their faces.

In retaliation one reached out to snag a fistful of her hair but she ducked low, delivering a powerful kick to his chest and knocking the wind from his lungs. A sharp bow from her elbow to his crotch sent the man down to the ground.

Spinning around, she kicked the feet out from another large man. Her arm was grabbed and yanked harshly as she was drawn to her feet by another. He sneered at her and whipped her around into the wall by her arm. The arm hung limply as she fell to the ground among trash and broken crates.

Grabbing up a board in the arm that still seemed to work and ignoring the pain in both her other arm and back, she smashed the first goon over the head with it. The crack of wood against skull was sickening.

Loki staggered to his feet as Blair faced off against the remaining men. Clearly, this wasn’t to be a fair fight. Pulling a dagger from his boot, he plunged it into the neck of one man. The blade glanced forward off bone and cut into the man’s throat. Jerking away, the man quickly bleed out in front of Loki’s eyes.

The remaining men were quick to scramble away, leaving Loki and Blair alone with a very dead man and another who had yet to come around from the board he took to the head. All and all, it was not a good situation. Loki would be off the hook. He was a prince and but Blair was just a woman of little financial means and no status.

She would take the fall for the dead man. The fight would be blamed on her. She would be blamed for the beating Loki took. The story would change and twist until Odin had something that would make the royal family look good.

“Come on.” Loki grabbed her hand and took off down the ally.

“Where are you taking us?” Blair tried to ignore the fact that Prince Loki was holding her hand.

“In all honesty, I am not sure.” Loki admitted, looking back at her. When did her brown eyes get so bright? “We can’t stay there however.”

“You’re a prince, no one will care.” Blair watched as he pulled her along. His just a bit too long hair was ruffled and wild. It was a nice change from the perfectly slick and brushed back look he normally wore.

“You however are not. I’ll not have you suffer for what was my fight.”

Blair dug her heels into the ground, forcing him to slow as she yelled up to him, “This way.”

As she pulled him through the streets to an abandoned home, she did her best to ignore the pain from the dislocated arm flopping against her side. Once he was inside she slammed the door closed and sank down to the ground.

“Down. You don’t want them to see us in the windows.” Loki quickly sat next to her, back against the wall dusty wall.

“Your arm?”

“Yeah, I’ll need your help with that. After you can leave and be free of my ugly face until the next time you slum in the village.” With a deep breath she glanced over to him. “If you could help pop it back in?”

Loki nodded and he took up her arm as gently as he could. She told him exactly what to do but still he didn’t want to hurt her. Finally with a grunt of effort he pushed and the sound it made when it popped into place was sickening.

“Thank you.” Somehow she hadn’t screamed at the pain but still he saw it clearly written on her face. Blair grabbed some dirty strips of cloth Loki could only assume once had been clean bandages off the ground and bound her arm into place. “Why haven’t you left yet?”

“I should be the one to offer thanks.” Loki admitted finally.

“But I assume that’s as close as I’ll get to a ‘thank you’ so I’ll take it. You’re welcome. You can leave now. Don’t want to get your fancy clothes dirty… or dirtier at least.”

“Why did you do it? You’ve no love for the royal family let alone for me.” Finally her brown eyes met his again. She didn’t look away or down. “You hate them.”

“I don’t hate them. Or you.” Loki watched as her chocolate eyes first looked up to the ceiling and then down to the ground before meeting his again. “I just- what’s it like to have a full stomach every night? What’s it like to sleep on down rather than straw? What’s it like to be warm at night? You’ve got it so easy and it’s not fair.”

“You struggle for food?” The thought was foreign to Loki. “Yet you go to the tavern and spend coin on ale?”

That question did make her look down. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. But if I don’t go out, don’t pretend that everything is okay it will be worse…”

“How? You spend money on ale that you need for food?” Loki watched as she took a deep breath.

“Father kicked me out when I refused to marry the old man willing to pay for my hand.” She shrugged again, suddenly unable to meet Loki’s eyes. Just why did the Prince care about such things now. “I kind of… I live here. Please don’t tell, I’ve not had coin to purchase it but no one else is living here so I’m not hurting anyone.”

“I won’t.” Loki reached out and grabbed her hand up. It was an impulsive action and he had her hand in his before he’d even thought it through. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Blair continued. “You saw how those men talk to me, about me. If they knew I was so hard on coin they would be even worse.”

“It would be more dangerous for you.”

When did he begin leaning closer to her? When did she begin to lean closer to him? Somehow they were but a breath apart. Loki could feel Blair’s body heat and wondered if she could feel his. Surely she must.

Her lips were soft and warm against his. Letting go of her hand, he ran his fingers through the brown hair and smiled to himself as his fingers got tangled in the loose curls. Her hair was so soft and god did she smell good.

Pushing her back and down Loki was quick to take control. Not once did be break the kiss as he found himself atop her. Her hand found itself in his hair, along his back and against his firm chest.

She shivered as his hands snaked under her shirt. Bunching her fist into the back of his shirt, she pulled it up and over his head, breaking the kiss for a moment before his lips were at her neck again. In the back of her mind, she knew they would probably regret it after. He would surely regret it after.

The next week the small home was purchased and Blair found the document on a table that most certainly hadn’t been there when she had left to beg for work for the day. In perfect calligraphy was her name on the paper that proclaimed her owner.

Each day she’d leave and something, small or large would be improved in the home. Loki would deny it when asked at the tavern but she knew. He was the only one who knew. They were doomed, ill fated and of two different worlds.

One day she thought there was nothing left to fix or improve. She didn’t expect there to be anything different. Perhaps it would end, finally. Maybe after the nearly year they’d spent having almost civil conversations in public and falling together again and again in the seclusion of her home, he’d had enough.

Instead, when she walked into her small bedchamber she found a black and green dress draped over her bed. It was made of the finest silk she had seen. Next to it was a small note written in a hand she had grown to know well. Under it sat an envelope with the king’s seal.

“Darling,

Tonight as I’m sure you’ve heard my King Father is throwing a ball. Noble women and Princesses from all the lands near and far will be in attendance. From them I am to pick she who shall become my bride and stand by my side for eternity. You’ve surely already noticed the dress but you’ll also find shoes and most importantly a royal invite.

Come, my Darling. That invite is not a trick nor a forgery. Come so that I may pick the most fitting rose from the garden. Come, my darling, so that I can pick the rose who has both the beauty of a flower and the thrones of a warrior.

Yours always, Loki”

Tag list: @bambamwolf87, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @dangertoozmanykids101, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller

[chysgoda]

Let's talk about oaths

In which Art’imis loses her temper and Solkazgyl has a bad day

It was a nice day in Camp Dragonhead. A clear sky and warm sun brightened most moods and all the threats that they watched for were quiet. a good day to catch up on outdoor chores or just to feel like a person for half a bell. So one no begrudged the commander or the couple of Fortemps dragoons that had pounced on the opportunity to catch up when all of their schedules aligned on such a nice day.  

Dinadan noticed the group walking into the camp first. Art’imis he recognized first, her scale mail hauberk and white cloak had become as regular a sight as any of his brother and sister dragoons in the congregation. The other three he did not recognize at all. He elbowed Matthaios in the ribs to get the other dragoon to shut up for a moment. “Who are the foreigners with Art’imis?”

Haurchrfant leaned forward to get a better look. “That would be Lord Papashan and Captain Jenlyns of the Sultansworn they passed through here a few days ago. I do not know the Roegadyn however.”

Matthaios turned as well and frowned. Tension sparked off the group and it was obvious that the Hyru and Lalafel between Art’imis and the Roegadyn were keeping the pair apart. “Something’s going on there.”

“Indeed,” Haurchefant agreed. He rolled his shoulders back picking up the mantle of commander again. Matthaios and Dinadan glanced at each other as the fell into step with the Silver Fuller.  

The Au’ra paladin glanced their way and shook her head as their group approached the chocobo porter’s station near the main gates. She looked back down the the older lalafel walking next to her “which route will you return by?”

“Revenant’s Toll, There are still remnants of the 14th legion in Northern Thanalan that are causing trouble.” Papashan said easily. “Captain Jenlyns wants to assess if the Sultansworn can aid in the efforts there.”

Dinadan let out a relieved breath when Art’imis smiled with honest approval. “Field work will be good for them. Thank you for keeping an eye on things in Ul’dah for me Papashan.”

The lalafel waved off the thanks with a huff, “I kept an eye on things long before you were born welp.”

Art’imis chuckled fondly tension beginning to leave the line of her shoulders. “I shall pray to the Dawn Father and Halone that you and Captain Jenlyns have a safe journey.”

The roegedyn snorted in amusement, “nothing for an old teacher Art’imis?”

All the tension snapped back into the free paladin’s shoulders. Next to her Papashan pinched the bridge of his nose. Art’imis’ lips pulled back and up in what was technically a smile but reminded Dinadan more of hunting wolves. “Nothing other than to let you know that you’ve no need to visit Falcon’s Nest. I’ll keep an eye on Constaint.”

“It’s hardly a bother to -” the Roegadyn’s eyes narrowed at his fellow free paladin

Art’imis interrupted before he could finish, “Solkazgyl, Let me clarify what I mean. Do not come back. You’ve done enough, and more damage besides.”

“Poaching students is rather poor form Art’imis.”

“As is abandoning a student for the sake of theatrics. Shall we compare sins?”

Dinadan tensed when the roedadyn’s sword hand flexed and Art’imis shifted her shoulder in preparation of using her shield. The two Sultansworn noticed as well. Jenlyns stepped between the two Free Paladins. “We need to be moving on Solkazgyl.”

The Roegadyn ignored the Sultansworn captain and stepped to side so that line between himself and Art’imis was clear again. “He would have been fine without your interference.”

“If by fine you mean dead, than yes he would have been.” Art’imis snapped back. “You manipulated a child into seeking out a death cult whose standard battle strategy is to summon void sent!”

“It was merely a test of conviction, you were tested in the same way.” Solkzagyl waved a dismissive hand.

“Three moons between when you first put a blade his hand and when you abandoned him. Mylla wouldn’t have even let him spar with how little you showed him.” Rage made the Auri’s words sharp. If she’d been a dragoon Dinadan wouldn’t have been surprised to see dragonfire flicker along her skin. Her left hand hovered above the hilt of her sword on her right hip.

“Art’imis,” Haurchefant called firmly. Her head snapped around to him a hissed response half formed before her better sense checked her wrath and she snapped her jaw shut. The Fortemps knight held the younger woman’s eyes and she dropped her hand from the hilt of her sword and nodded an acknowledgment.

“Well now that some of us have thoroughly out stayed our welcome we shall be off.” Papashan said, dry as the Sangolii desert. “My apologies for the disturbance Ser Haurchefant.”

Dinadan kept his eyes on the Roegadyn as Matthaios stepped to the side leaving a space for the small paladin to join them. Solkzagyl frowned at Art’imis’ back as she turned away from him.

< He’ll provoke her, He wants the fight.> Gorebash whispered a warning.

“Art’imis,” the Roegadyn called out, “did you fight that duel in ernest?”

“No.” The Au’ra didn’t turn back to him when she spoke. The insult plain in her body language, he was not a threat to her and it was not worth the effort of turning and looking him in the face.  

“Ah, well I think I will certainly be back than. It would be a shame if the boy learned to apply himself unevenly.” The roegadyn’s weight shifted to the balls of his feet. “I’d have thought you would have learned better after what happened to the Sultana under you care.”  

Dinadan would always remember the aetheric copy of Art’imis’ shield flying towards Solkazgyl as being the first thing that happened even when nearly everyone moved at the same time. Both Jenlyns and Papashan rounded on the Roegadyn flushed with anger. Haurchefant reached out to hold back Art’imis as both he and Matthiaos pulled their lances from their backs. The Au’ra paladin ducked under the Fortemps knight’s arm and had her sword drawn and shield in place before she took her first full stride.

Solkzagyl took half a step back in preparation to catch a shield that became nothing but sparks of aether. He recovered well, but his sword had only just cleared its scabbard when Art’imis invaded his space. The keen edge of her blade slicing through the  silk and wool just under the bottom edge of his breastplate. She dragged the cut with her as she rushed by and it found flesh and blood. She was past him then, just a head of his retaliation, and into the snow fields on the other side of the gate.

Dinadan’s eyes locked on the gleam and flash of light on the edge of Art’imis’ blade and followed its arc as she turned herself back to face the gate. She brought the blade up before her almost like she was saluting an dueling partner, the light flashing and gleaming again as a snap of her wrist showed the flat of the blade and the ruby rivulets of blood that were pulled in from the edge of the blade to gather in the fuller crystal bright-  His dragon wrapped around his senses and pulled his attention away from the light playing on the blade, it was almost physically painful. <Do not be distracted!> Gorebash hissed. <That trick is not for you.>

He blinked and assessed the situation, at least half of the knights of Camp Dragonhead were unnaturally focused on the Au’ra paladin. Both Haurchefant and Matthiaos watched with thinking focus. The Silver Fuller frowned deeply his eyes darting from his people to the Free Paladins squaring up outside his gates. The Sultansworn also seemed to have resisted the aether light that still tried to pull at his focus. The old lalafel had thrown out an arm to keep Captain Jenlyns from stepping in. Solkazgyl stalked towards the smaller Paladin who kept the space between them, backing up to draw her opponent further away from the gates. The pull on Dinadan’s attention stopped abruptly and he wasn’t sure if it was distance or if Art’imis has simply stopped putting effort into whatever it was.

“Back to your posts!” Haurchefant barked at his men who were shaking off the effects as well. The Silver Fuller looked at the two dragoons who nodded and then he turned to the gate and trekked out after the dueling Paladins. The two Sultansworn feel into step with them.

The two fighters had closed the distance between them and begun to fight in earnest when the five of them got close enough to see and hear the fight clearly. Art’imis was lighter on her feet than the Roegadyn and had no hesitation about taking whatever shot was open to her, but she did not have the same mass to back up her strikes. It was unnerving watching the small woman take blows that would fell most of the Knights in the Congregation. It shouldn’t have been so disquieting, Dinadan had seen her take the full force of a dragons lashing tail on her shield and keep her feet.  But The shapes here were different here, Art’imis’ size made her look childlike in comparison to her opponent. It looked to much like a child being meanced. He picked up the pace just a bit-

“Stop!” Papashan called out with the authority of an old captain. He darted in front of their group to stop their forward motion.

“She can’t mean to-“ Jenlyns gasped and then darted forward to stop them as well.  Ahead of them Dinadan could have sworn he saw the name of the Furry tumble from the Auri’s lips as she deliberately dropped to one knee as if in prayer. White fire crashed to the ground in a solid circle. A pained and surprised shout rang out from inside the light.

When the light faded Art’imis was on her feet again. Solkzagyl’s chest heaved with pain and rage as he climbed back up from his knees. “You dare call her scorn down on me?!”

“Did you not wish to fight in earnest?” Art’imis snarled at him. “Is this not what you wanted? To face the Eikon Slayer and prove that it is you who should hold leadership among us all, Sultansworn and Free Paladin alike?”

The pair closed on each other again to focused on their wrath to pay any heed to outsiders. Captain Jenlyns grimaced everytime a blow hit home on either fighter. Haurchefant rested his hand on the hilt of his sword but had not yet drawn. Aether made the air reek with a smell like tin that was so strong Dinadan could taste it. Swords bounced and deflected off of shields that formed of aether while the blow was swinging in. His heart stopped for a beat when the Roegadyn caught Art’imis’ shield and swung it out away from her.  She let it go rather than be knocked off balance. Solkazgyl’s smirk was an ugly thing as he stepped back, mouth opened to offer a chance of surrender. Art’imis did not stop, with her right hand she gripped the blade of her sword halfway down from the hilt. She changed the grip of her left hand as she raced ahead and swung the hilt of her sword like a war hammer. The crossguard smashed into the first wound she’d laid on him. He choked on a gasp and staggered back but she kept with him plowing her shoulder into his side and taking advantage of the momentum the stager had started. The giant fell and she jumped to the side and stomped on the wrist of his sword arm. When the fingers spasmed she kicked the sword away.  She pressed the tip of her blade against the side of Solkazgyl’s throat.

She turned her head and spat blood into the snow. “Dawn Father forgive me, but you have found the absolute limit of my patience.”

The Roegadyn opened his mouth and Art’imis pressed the blade hard enough to almost break the skin. “No Solkazgyl, for once in your life you will listen. You preach endlessly about conviction and the importance of keeping oaths, but somehow you never take actual responsibility for those oaths. You throw one of the worst nights of my life in my face and dare to say that I lack conviction. Where was yours? Where were you when the Brass Blades and Crystal Braves seized the palace? Did you not swear to protect the house of Ul? Where were you when the wine was poured and I watched a sister claw at her throat trying to get air? Where were you when I was choking on the vapor of a silencing potion? Where were you when your brothers in the Sultansworn were attacked?”

Art’imis took a deep breath trying to contain her wrath. “Ever since Papashan put me on your trail I have found naught but confusion, fear, and death in your wake. Do you know how many were hurt by your damned theatrics? Do you know how many travelers fell prey to the cultists? Do you know how many knights of House Haillenarte were injured in the Sea of Clouds? You chose to let murders wander loose so that you could play your game. Did we both not swear our swords and shields in defense of innocents? Of those who could not shield themselves? So once again you are forsworn. For what? That you might teach the Sultansworn a lesson they already know far better than you?”

“Art’imis,” Haurcefant stepped closer to the woman. “You need to stand down.”  

Art’imis blinked realizing that there was a cut on Solkazgyl’s throat that was steadily trickling blood.  She sheathed her blade and crouched down so that she could snatch the winged circlet from Solkazgyl’s head and claim her prize. “Do not presume to interfere with what is mine again.”

No longer threatened by the closeness of Art’imis’ sword Solkazgyl sat up. “And you presume to claim all of Ishgard as your own?”

“Yes,” Art’imis spoke with a conviction and heat that reminded Dinadan of the white fire she’d called down. “Mine to protect, my sanctuary to maintain, my kith and kin to shield. You will not interfere with what is mine. Now leave, and do not darken my door again.”

Papashan had collected Art’imis’ shield and handed it back to her when she walked away from Solkazgyl.  The lalafel turned to the Commander of Camp Dragonhead. “Given the circumstances we would take no offense should you chose to assign guards to see us to your border without further incident.”  

“I do believe I will.” The Silver Fuller said flatly. “I trust you and Captain Jenlyns can keep your friend here until I send my men out?”

“Of course.” Papashan turned to consider Art’imis. He nodded to the circlet in her left hand. “I do believe that will look better on you. And since I rather think you bear the Fury’s favor already I will pray that your Dawn Father will take watch over your good sense.”

The free paladin flinched a little at the subtle reprimand of her loss of temper. Haurchefant rested a hand on Art’imis’ shoulder as they turned away from the Ul’dan group. The dragoons feel into step with them, closing ranks as they returned to camp dragon head.

Jenlyns watched realizing on some level he had taken for granted that Art’imis would one day return to call Ul’dah home, come back to the familiarity of training with his men between adventures or helping teach recruits at the Gladiators guild. “I did not realize how much I assumed she would return to Ul’dah once all was made right.”

Papashan glanced up when the Captain made the quiet confession.  Before looking back to the Ishgardians walking back into the safety of Camp Dragonhead. “Allegiance must run both ways to have any strength. The Warriors of Light gave Eorzea their faith and blood, the Eorzean Alliance repaid them with distrust and abandonment. If they’re needed they will come, it’s in their nature to. I do not think they’ll ever give us their trust again though.”

Silence fell until three knights wearing the colors of House Fortemps came out confirming Papashan’s words with finality.  

Notes

So I have lots of feelings about the 50-60 PLD questline, Frustration, Bafflement, and WTF mostly. So much about this line made me so mad. Among them just the straight up lack of sense the whole thing made and then the ingame admission of yea we know it’s stupid. Also the final duty was a serious let down? Like the duties with the Deaths Embrace required a lot more effort and then you get to Solkazgyl’s little tournament and he’s just not that hard a fight. Probably because the big blue jackass spends more time perfecting his dramatic entrances. Also it feels like Constaint is like stupid quick at picking up fighting skills given that the implication is that he hadn’t known Solkazgyl for that long before he “died”.    

Timeline wise I had the PLD quests done before I got to the great dravanian road trip so in my head this is all wrapped up before Alphinaud and Tataru get accused of heresy.