#(this is a jab at my sister we shall ignore it)

[essektheylyss]

Essek: [infodumping about the Aeorian enchantment chamber]

me: [chin in one hand, kicking my feet, twirling hair]

[shantechni]

"2012 Mikey is Abused" and other constant complaints that, quite frankly, don't make sense

Since one Reddit user (who shall remain anonymous) inadvertently made me type out an essay I intended to write and post in a more coherent manner at a later date, I will be using their comment and my response.

Anyways, the comment itself starts off fairly normal and agreeable:

But then I see the next three points and my sleep-deprived mind just goes off the rails, so let's start with the second point:

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely do not condone the writing here because everyone under the sun will agree that we could've easily had the "Karai is our sister!?" plot twist without Leo and Karai briefly developing feelings for each other.

The problem is that this brief development of feelings is wildly blown out of proportion by the fandom, so much so that it makes it seem as though Leo and Karai actually had anything legitimate going on between them.

The "incest-eqsue garbage" between Leo and Karai is almost nonexistent outside of the writing room. They openly crush on each other for a whopping six episodes by way of verbally teasing each other and being at odds before Karai tells Leo that she's the Shredder's daughter. That's it. He is not pursuing her after that (hardly ever did, not even to the extent that Donnie pursues April) and Karai isn't remotely fond of him anymore after he broke their deal. Then, after we find out alongside Splinter that she's actually his daughter, he tells Leo towards the end of Follow the Leader. We don't get a reaction, actually nothing on Leo's side since the Foot Clan is mostly absent with April being the main point of conflict, even in Target: April O'Neil because April's forgiveness of the turtles is the main focus.

Leo eventually attempts to tell Karai the truth in Wormquake! and The Manhattan Project and she obviously doesn't believe the poor guy, she just wants to kill the turtles and Splinter at this point. Leo doesn't tell her because "he still likes her", but because, in his own words, it would change everything. She deserves to know the truth and Splinter shouldn't have his own daughter cursing him at every waking moment. When she tricks the gang into bringing her to the lair under the guise of her finally accepting the truth, Leo is ecstatic and his first thought is for her and Splinter to make amends. He's upset that Raph still can't fully trust her in the end when she fought alongside them (who can blame Raph though, he's cradling an unconscious brother after a plan gone awry), and that's the end of that.

They dedicate two episodes to the guys attempting to rescue her because Leo has enough brain cells to worry about what the Shredder could be doing with her, and Raph makes a jab at Leo on one instance when they find her (there is absolutely no romantic undertone, Raph just picks at his old crush on her and their tendency to tease each other at the worst times). Then, when she wants to get back at the Shredder for ripping her away from a life she never knew was her's, Leo attempts to aid her because he knows it isn't wise to face someone like that alone, especially with his henchmen there.

There's one last self-aware jab at their past feelings in S5, of which Karai awkwardly remembers and forgoes mentioning, and that's the last you see or hear of that.

As much as I dislike it, I'd take this narrative over the Donnie-April-Casey hurricane any day.

It seems that 2012 Mikey's mere existence is a sore spot for fans because Jesus Christ this gets brought up way too much.

Mikey is not written as a complete idiot, he's written as someone who doesn't see a reason to take everything so seriously, has odd habits, and doesn't always think things through, yet is shown to be highly capable and intelligent when the situation calls for it. Yes the writers left much to be desired at times, but to say they wrote him to be a "complete idiot" and left it at that is just offensive. I'll ignore all the miraculous things Mikey can do with Kraang stuff and Dimension X and focus on what other things he's shown to be capable of.

Mikey was a temporary learning model for Donnie in how to fight without thinking, or in better terms, how to fight instinctually without becoming bogged down by your own mind. Splinter's lesson is shown in a comedic manner, but that's ultimately what helped Donnie defeat Falco.

Another interesting thing is his ability to keep his composure when no one else around him can do so. I mentioned this briefly in another post, but it really stands out to me how he put Leo at the top of his priority list in Invasion Part 2. He's as worried for Splinter as Raph and Donnie are, but they have with them a crippled and unconcious Leo who needs medical attention asap, compared to martial arts master Splinter who's older and wiser than the three of them combined at times. Even when they eventually find Splinter and lose him, he keeps the gang in line by reminding them, as well as himself, that Splinter can take care of himself.

Along with that is when Splinter was kidnapped in The Manhattan Project. Mikey was quick to intervene when Raph was angry with Leo for allowing Tiger Claw to coax him into calling Splinter, and he reminded the two of the problem at hand: they have Splinter, let's go find him and take him back. There are so many other moments when he becomes the levelheaded one in response to the chaos or disorder surrounding him.

Mikey is a highly skilled fighter, he's emotionally intelligent, he remembers the weirdest things that eventually aid the team, he's street smart, he's a fast learner (ex: Bradford's secret kata, as well as the temporary use of the plasma katana in Target: April O'Neil), he's great at distracting enemies without needing to become bait, he gets insecure about things, he has photographic memory, he's the most outgoing of his brothers and therefore ends up with the most friends, he's quick to adapt to a situation and think of a plan, he can throw together seemingly random ingredients to create exactly what Donnie would struggle to create, he knew exactly what to do to find Casey after his run-in with Tiger Claw, the list goes on.

Heck, just to add to this, Mikey is the one who saves the day in three separate stories in S5. 1) His temporary electric powers save the world from Dregg and the Newtralizer, 2) he convinced Frankenstein's monster to join their side, retrieved the scepter from Savanti and Dracula (he accidentally broke the scepter while he was at it, but that helped) and cured Raph and Donnie of their vampirism, and 3) he was the one who repaired Kavaxas' seal and made him reopen the portal to the Netherworld so the dead could return.

The brothers don't always take him as seriously as they should or listen to him, and that's understandable at times, but when they do, they're reminded of the fact that Mikey, in his own way, is intelligent.

If I had a dime for every comment I've seen about this, I'd be rich enough to buy the TMNT series from Viacom and right every wrong they made with the 2012 series.

These abuse allegations are as bad as people putting Markiplier in the same tweet as problematic Youtubers and saying something wild like, "these content creators should've been cancelled a long time ago." I feel like people who say the brothers abuse Mikey are either an only child or genuinely have a warped sense for what actually counts as abuse, and I'm not even trying to be mean, those are just my thoughts. I shouldn't even have to comment on this, but the fact that people are still seriously believing that to this day is shocking.

Would you also like to say that Raph was abused in Turtle Temper when Splinter had the boys ceaselessly taunt him in that little exercise? Or that the boys abused Raph everytime they downplayed his anger? Or that Raph abused Donnie by threatening to hit him if he didn't find Snakeweed's hideout? Or that Leo abused Donnie everytime he stressed him out by rushing him for answers? Or that Donnie abused Mikey because Mikey flinched 2cm to the right when Donnie raised his hand to playfully knock at his noggin? Or that Leo was abused by the team because they took forever to view him as their leader? Or that Splinter abused the boys because he was "too rough" on them during training?? Or that April abused Donnie because she "constantly led him on"? Or that Xever and Bradford abused Baxter???

I'm losing my mind over here

Mikey is never physically or emotionally abused by his brothers, the show speaks for itself. But if you somehow aren't listening, go look up a textbook example of abuse, or better yet, look at Karai.

Abuse is the Shredder locking Karai in a dungeon when she tries to escape to her real family and going so far to become a peak manipulator by saying Karai was hurting him by making him lock her away. Worse than that, he starts brainwashing her with mind controlling worms so she has no choice but to obey him. Even before then, he's lowkey uncaring of her wellbeing: he treats her like any other soldier of his and doesn't listen to her when she tries to tell him something. He doesn't address her concerns about the Foot bots nearly finishing her off, instead telling her, "disobedience comes with a stiff penalty, especially for my daughter," when she objects to him telling her not to take action against the turtles while he's gone.

He only ever pays her any attention or gives her praise when it benefits him and his vendetta against Splinter.

Splinter and the turtles are the farthest thing from the image of a family filled with abusers. Raph openly apologizes to Mikey when Splinter tells him to stop picking at him in Shellacne, Raph comforts Donnie when the brainiac is somber after forcing Timothy into the equivalent of a cold sleep, Raph apologizes when his anger gets the better of him and he hits Leo harder than intended, Donnie apologizes when he realizes he shouldn't insult Raph when the guy is visibly upset, Leo regrets doubting Donnie about Metalhead, etc., etc.

Even beyond apologies, Raph is the quickest to entertain Mikey and vice versa during a mundane moment, Donnie never kicks Mikey out of the lab, Leo plays around with Mikey when the situation doesn't call for him to be their fearless leader, and Splinter is quick to advise Mikey during Karai's Vendetta and Shellacne. There are even times when the guys just go along with Mikey's antics because there's no harm in doing so, and often times Mikey needs a moment to be silly.

If you think play fighting, teasing, or getting a little physical with a sibling is the equivalent of abuse, particularly in the context of TMNT of all things, you need to do some re-evaluation.

[chromiumagellanic06]

Just Me and You

Aegon I Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen

Summary: Aegon betrayed Visenya when he wed Rhaenys; She finds a way to do something about it. Pre-conquest.

Warnings: some NSFW, Incest, (vague) sex, Blood Magic, Sibling Incest, Jealous rage, alcohol, etc.

Disclaimer: All rights for the characters belong to GRRM and company. img credits to Pinterest.

Word Count: 4.4k

"Don't look so glum," Visenya told her brother, kicking his leg, "You're frowning like a man sent to the gallows." They lay on the garden grass, behind a curtain of wild roses none ventured into, a place they had made their own. 

The setting sun shone red and blushed orange in the sky as night tugged at the other end of the horizon, and the autumnal lights, the day's golden sun, made Aegon's face glow admirably. 

He laughed through his nose, "I lose my boyhood on the morrow, do show some mercy, dear sister." She laughed at his jab, and propped herself up on the grass to gaze at his face. 

His silver hair fell tardily across his brow, his lilac eyes watching her, touched with jest but drowned in hesitation. 

“I lose mine girlhood on the morrow also, brother,” she smirked, though she was unsure of herself, “I do not imagine it to be so dull myself.” Then she leaned close, trying her best to conceal the tremor in her frame, the hesitancy in herself. 

He sighed, reached for her lips, and her fear burned away, their noses brushing, and for a moment there was only silence in the garden, quiet and the smell of pine and rose and steel. 

When she laid back on the grass, both their faces were red, his more so than hers, but it was he who crept a lone hand to his side to hold hers. 

“You are right,” he tutted when his breathing levelled, “as usual—”  

She kicked his leg again, her words sharp despite his pained laughter, “Do not jest now.”

He quieted a second later, his hand tightening around hers, and she felt relieved instantly. He was there—he had been there, for as long as she could remember. Aegon and Visenya, meant to be wed, meant to be one, by the old ways of their homeland that was lost. 

They were their legacy, silver hair and lilac eyes. They were meant to wed since the day Aegon was born.

“It was all leading up to this, I know,” he sat up this time, “Our lives lead up to tomorrow, I just know it, Visenya,” and then, he leaned over Visenya's face, noses again touching, eyes again fixed. She smiled, eyes sparkling despite herself.

“We were always meant to be together, Aegon,” she whispered, arms wrapping around his neck.

Aegon smiled, “Just me and you,” brother and sister, husband and wife, lord and lady. 

He kissed her, tongues dancing, eyes flickering close, breaths mingling, and when he laid back down on the green grass, he said, “It shall be divine indeed, dear wife.” Dear sister, dear wife. She chuckled.

The fire was lit on the volcanic coast of Dragonstone, the company had gathered—people of their ancestry, an array of white hair and lilac eyes—Targaryens, Velaryons, Celtigars, even the occasional Volantian, all wrapped in dark tones, for only Aegon and Visenya wore white. Orys Baratheon stood alone with a head of dark hair, smiling throughout the ceremony, ignorant of the whispers that rang among the people of his paternity.

Aeron’s bastard son, they rumoured, before the rituals began.

A priest of the old faith stood presiding. He read hymns in the tongue of the dragon, declarations of purity, of love, of spiritual binding.

They cut the other’s lip with a shard of black dragonglass, stained the other’s forehead with a drop of their blood. Bled into a cup as dark as Valyrian Steel, drank from it, and swore allegiance to the other.

One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.

Sēpar ao se nyke, Visenya.

Just you and me, Visenya against the world of the West. Ambition shall be our only limit, he promised.

Visenya soared through the skies on Vhagar’s back, holding onto the reins and saddle of her friend, urging her to gain speed. She had no wish to remain in her home that night.

She wore silks, a gown of black and red, rubies to match—as had Aegon, she recalled. Even after all this treachery, he was the other half of her soul. He wore ash black, his cloak as red as blood on the inside, the picture of their union—black and red, fire and blood, even as he took Rhaenys to wife.

Rhaenys. White wrapped and adorned in flowers. A disgrace to the dragon.

Rhaenys. Her tit-flashing, whoring little sister. Sister.

Visenya scoffed at the winds, felt her hair whip behind her, delighted in the world’s cold embrace which served to quell the fire within her. She should have known that her sister wouldn’t leave anything for her—her Queen that was her beauty had slain Visenya’s bishops, her rook, nearly all her pawns. It was horrid enough that every man or woman who visited the isle preferred her company to Visenya’s, that songs were sung of her art and beauty, her glory, rather than Visenya’s skill with the sword, but this had been too far.

She had taken her Aegon.

She had taken her husband.

She had taken her soul.

She should have known, Visenya chastised herself, shaking her head against the sky and the clouds, feeling the rush of flight, the risk of the moment. With every low curtsy, with every loud laugh at his less than funny remarks, with every zealous stare of her sister’s as Aegon returned to Visenya’s chambers every night, she should have known of her scheme—a net to entrap her knights, a trap to make her yield.

She should have known that Aegon was weak—weak to his dreams, but weaker still to his desires.

She should have known that he would fall to their brazen slut of a sister, rather than keep his vows to her.

Just you and me, the liar had promised three turns ago, and she, the fool, had believed him. She was wrothful of her tears, but held them regardless.

Visenya was a warrior. She wouldn’t weep over lost love.

When clouds came, and night fell, Vhagar plummeted from the skies, the flapping of her wings near silent, as was her general call. She landed in a forest, of all places, shoving her rider into a low-lying branch.

Visenya fell to the ground, brushing leaves out of her braid when she realised that the familiar heft at her waist was lost. She had left Dark Sister in her fury. Vhagar had made herself comfortable, and looked ready for slumber, curling into a canopy’s shadow till only her reptilian eyes blinked ominously in the darkness.

She crooned, growled. Hungry.

Visenya sighed, mindful that she had fetched her friend before the eve’s meal and had indeed forced her to miss her luncheon of cows and goats—she had been insistent, in her brooding rage before the wedding rituals, to smell only of fire and brimstone. If she couldn’t scream her ire, she’d make it be known in another way.

Visenya trailed out of the woods, finding a large village nearby. She recognised the grassy fields, the edge of forest, the dusty streets well enough. She was near the Dothraki Seas. As she treaded the village’s main pathway, passing homes lit with candles, happy families chattering within, Visenya nearly forgot her anger. It was dusty, even in the night’s darkness, and only a few walked the village at the hour. Most of them gathered around a well near the centre of the village. It had caught her attention by then.

She stopped at the periphery, watching the scene. Men, women, children, whole families, dropped gold, silver, jewels into the well, and joined their hands, bowed their heads and left. She followed suit, staring into the dark well. It was new, lined and well spent on, but jewels and ceremonial sacrifices floated on the surface. Jewels floated.

Visenya roped up a bucket of the water, and examined it. Salty. She cupped a handful and drank it.

She spat it out instantly. Inanely salty. The well had gone brackish when it was grounded. She threw the bucket back into the dark well, continuing her search.

So much for her interests. Unfaithful brothers and brackish wells.

She had walked to the outskirts of the village before she found any sheep. A whole herd, white and large, being handled by a boy too young to have gathered it all alone. He led the flock from a field to a pen beside a small, compact hut.

“You there,” Visenya called, and the boy shut the pen’s door firmly before greeting her. She must have looked odd, she realised. A white-haired woman in a black and red gown, gracing his doorstep an hour past sundown.

“I wish to have a half dozen of your sheep—”

“Not mine, lady…” he glanced at the hut. Just then, the door to the hut slammed open. Out of it hobbled an old woman, wrinkled and hunched, a shrivelled soul in a black tokar with a head of hair as silver as hers.

“Do as the lady says, boy, get six sheep,” the old woman ordered.

Strange…Visenya shook her suspicions away. Things were different this far east, she reminded herself.

“How do I pay you?” She asked the old woman as she took the reins for six sheep from the helper boy. “I have some gold, I believe.”

“A drop of your blood shall do.” Her voice was scratchy, her green eyes twinkled strangely.

“My blood?” Visenya raised a brow, unsure.

“Valyrian blood has power; this shall do a world of good for this village,” the old woman struggled towards her hut, returning with a discoloured glass vial. “Come you from across the Narrow Sea?” Visenya considered the exchange. Her heritage was guessable, a young face with silver hair, her lilac eyes, would give away her bloodline easily. Why blood? She had heard tales of maegi sorcerers who used blood to regain youth, used flesh to cure illness.

“Volantis,” Visenya lied, sure that her silken robes would let her pass for one of those worthless diluted slavers. “The Walled City.” She unsheathed a dagger, iron, not steel, to not give herself away, and struck a gash across her palm.

“Now, now,” the old woman smiled, her face wrinkling further, yellow, broken teeth glimmering in the dark evening, and gathered the blood in her vial. “You need not lie to me, Lady Visenya.”

Lady Visenya.

Visenya tightened a grip on her blade, cursing herself for having left Dark Sister behind on Dragonstone. Levelling her voice to dampen her alarm, she asked, “How do you know who I am?”

The woman corked her vial with an old piece of resin-laden wood, and waddled back into the hut, throwing the words behind her as she walked, trapping the door to her home open, “I see much that others may not.”

She took the sheep, convincing herself against seeking the old woman out further, and retraced her steps to the woods. She found Vhagar exactly as she had left her, and even after she roasted the sheep with a spell of flame, chewed on their flesh and spat out the bones, she wouldn’t budge.

“Soves, Vhagar!” She struggled atop her saddle, trying in vain to coax her beast to take flight. Vhagar only grumbled in her throat, shaking her rider off with a flick of her tail. Visenya rolled on the ground as she fell, unhurt but distraught.

“Fine,” she said, insulted and angered, and walked to the edge of the clearing. She laid down on the patch of moss there, gasping from the fall still and frustrated by Vhagar’s antics. She didn’t quite catch her sleep taking her.

She dreamt of flames, and scales. A dragon’s egg, in her grasp, warm from the embers she had found it in, the gash in her hand bleeding, bleeding, bleeding over ash and dragon scales, a mangled wyrmling in the distance—its scales and wings torn and bloody, twisted and knotted like some horrendous image from her sister’s poor childhood sketches come to life.

When she awoke, Visenya was grateful to the strange woman. However strange she had been, she had distracted the warrior enough for her rage to cool. But now, she knew not where to place her efforts.

“You are a pain, I hope you know that!” She screamed at Vhagar, who remained in the shadow of the woods’ canopy, slumbering in peace, unaffected by her rider’s rage, unresponsive at her attempts to force her beast to fly, for fuck’s sake, fly! She stumbled back to the village, dusty streets filled with people now, young children chasing each other through the fields.

She passed the ill well from the previous eve, raised an eyebrow at the people who huddled around it. A hoard of women chattered aloud, Westerosi mixed with lower Valyrian, some dialects of Dothraki and Pentoshi tossed around in the hubbub. They were filling water from the well, large barrels and wooden buckets laid out in rows.

“You there,” she beckoned to a young girl, barely ten, with pigtails and an ugly yellow dress, “The well had gone brackish,” she did not ask.

The girl shrugged her shoulders, “The priests have done rites for a sennight past. It worked.” Visenya needed to hear no more. She followed the cluttered houses and long alleys to the home of the old woman. Blood had power.

She found the desolate hut again, but no helper boy and no swine nearby. Climbing the three clayed steps to the closed door, she knocked—three raps with her fist, and the door swung open.

She took a careful step inside.

The woman’s hut only smelled of honey and metal, sickly sweet and bloody, though Visenya wasn’t sure if it was her gashed hand that stank of blood, for it had started bleeding again and profusely. The home was comfortable, with a familiar stench of old wine and everything inside the low-lying hut was warm and red and brown, lit by gold candles as the windows were curtained with dark, heavy velvet.

The old woman was no where to be seen.

In front of the flames, however, sat a young, rather beautiful lady, clad in red and gold silk. Her ebony hair was braided with intricacy, piled atop her head in the classical sense of the Ghiscari. Visenya recognised her robes to be resembling a tokar, and found her eyes to be a familiar green.

No.

A chilled breeze crept through the open door, leaving Visenya with a wave of shivers.

“Cold outside, isn’t it?” the beautiful woman read her mind, staring at Visenya with a crystal-clear interest through her shimmering green eyes. She waved a hand at the fireplace. Bizzare as it was, and quite shockingly also, a flame spluttered alive amidst the wood. Visenya backed away from the flames, turning to the door to find it shuttered close.

She turned back with trepidation, dagger in hand, “You’re a witch.”

“Yes,” the young woman stood, smiled in a way so dazzling that she’d put Rhaenys to shame, “I must thank you for yesterday. The villagers much appreciate your kindness.” Valyrian blood has power. “As do I, as you must concur,” she curtsied, her tokar catching orange in the light of the flame. She had used her blood for the gift of youth? The witch inched towards Visenya, “But you are not here for gratitude.”

Visenya considered the woman, the meaning of all this. Would he return to her? In one fluid motion, she sheathed her blade and addressed the witch, “No.”

“No,” she smiled, lips morphing red, teeth glinting white. It reminded Visenya of the old woman—same woman, she reminded herself. “No, you want knowledge,” she turned on her heel, her silk robe brushing against Visenya’s red and black gown. “It would be my pleasure to reteach the craft to one of your kind.”

“Reteach?” She followed the woman through a door, short and cramped such that they both had to bow to miss the head, into a poorly lit room with cabinets upon cabinets filled with jars and herbs and strange, browned fluids. Visenya saw the vial that had contained her own blood, empty save for a thin sheen left on the glass, next to old yellowed parchment with strange writings.

“Your people were the inception of sorcery, Lady Visenya,” the witch told her, standing far too close for Visenya to find agreeable, “But the craft has been lost to your people, as has your home.” Valyria’s gone. They belonged nowhere, Aegon had reminded her constantly.

She placed a candelabra on a rickety wooden table, clicking her pale, slender fingers to light the wicks, and asked for Visenya’s hand. Visenya watched, with bated breath, as her hand was held atop the flame. It didn’t burn, fire doesn’t burn a dragon, but her blood sizzled in the golden glow.

Aegon. She closed her eyes, brow scrunching, resolve hardening. They were meant to be together. Just them. Aegon and Visenya. A tale written in stone.

“You know what it is that I desire.” She harshened her voice.

“Yes,” the witch handed her a tome, old and wrinkled, the pages blanched and yellowed. “I return the knowledge of your ancestors to you, Visenya Targaryen.”

She didn’t stay long enough to ask why.

Three links of silver, blood drawn from iron and fire—Visenya reached for Aegon’s Dagger, taken from his solar without his notice, and she balanced the light, sharp blade on her lap as she read on, A circlet of ash, an object of desire, bound by a hymn that Meleys shall answer.

Dragon’s blood had power, but a god’s had more.

Visenya sat on the floor of her chambers, the hour of the bat bringing strange whispers with the ocean winds, whispers that rang strangely along her windowpanes, undrowned by the crackling blaze in the fireplace. Her legs ached from the harsh marble against them, and her chest heaved rampantly under her thin white shift.

Visenya sliced her thumb on the sharp edge of the dagger, staining the jagged curve with her blood, the blood of the dragon, then traced the dripping red across the three silver links in front of her. Visenya took a deep breath, shuddered, and sang a song, the likes of which had not been sung within the Keep of Dragonstone for years long passed.

“Oh, Meleys, jaesa hen jorrāela,” Oh, Meleys, goddess of love, she began, and voiced a testament to her power, against her own nature. She was Vhagar, the goddess of war, but all was in love also.

She threw the links in the flames, and sang the song again, her words echoing through the stone halls of the Keep to ring pure and melodious in the ears of Aegon, stark awake as he was at the balcony of Rhaenys’ chambers, eyes fixed westwards.

Queen takes queen.

A knock at her door—and Visenya stumbled towards the doors she had bolted shut. Her hand had been liberal in the pouring of wine. She sat alone, as she had every night since her return from Essos. Three nights spent alone—suppers missed, mornings lost, only flames and blood and spells and Vhagar in her days. Anything to allay herself of the pain of seeing Rhaenys and Aegon, the latter all but drooling over her tits at every stupid remark she made.

Gods, how foolish she felt, running from them, hearing her sister’s ugly lies of destiny and love. Grab any man by the cock that hard and he’ll dream himself a love story.

She opened the door a fraction, surprised to find her brother outside. Pawn forward? He looked the same, and it hurt her. The same silver hair, the same posture, the same expression on his face as whenever he treaded close to her—calm, calm, eternal calm, for they were one soul, so what had he to fear or reproach? Visenya ventured back inside, and he followed, bolted the door shut as though the rooms were still his. Ha. She supposed that he had never renounced her aloud.

“Quite soon of you to bore of the woman who warms your bed,” she remarked, gulping down wine from a silver goblet, caution thrown to the wind as anger surged through her again. She would not take the name of the woman she had once called sister, not to him. “Took you three years to bore of me, thought she’d last longer.”

That angered him, just as she knew that it would. His jaw tightened, eyebrows cross, “What are you implying, Visenya?”

Implying. Poets and dramatists implied. They twisted their words to reflect pesky things like sentiment and beauty. She was no beauty, preaching the arts. She was war.

 “I am implying nothing, brother. I am not a frolicking maid to dance around the truth, forever oblivious of how foolish she seems. Why the fuck are you here?” She threw the chalice in his general direction, missing by a considerable edge.

She expected him to rage after her, to scream, to argue, to order her to submit, ha, to fall to her knees in reverence of her lord husband—he did so adore the western ways.

He did not.

And it was then, that she wondered, whether the spell had indeed worked. Aegon embraced her, as drunk and writhing as she was, held her close, black and red—ash and rubies—fire and blood, and she lost her breath.

“You ran from me, Visenya,” Aegon whispered in her ear, his hands holding her tight, “Left me alone to face the day.”

Visenya laughed, bitter, mocking, more sobful than amused, “I left you?” She wished she could push away, keep her dignity, denounce his impish desire for both her and Rhaenys. She couldn’t. Between the nights he spent away and the atrocities she committed to regain him, she could not push him away, even if he burned her pride and turned her to ash.

“Did you not see me wear our colours for you?” En Passant. He wounded in passing, intention drowned by sheer will of might.

He kissed her, and she clenched her eyes shut to stop her tears from flowing. Red and Black. Targaryen colours, not their colours, but, yes, he had defied tradition. He had not worn cream or white to meet Rhaenys, had not claimed to be hers alone. But he had taken her still.

“I saw you wed our sister,” and she cringed at how high her voice sounded. Shrill and broken. A helpless damsel weeping for her losses. That she will not be. Visenya pushed Aegon away, turned away, walking to the gallery, gazing at the ocean and the night, unable to face him, to show him her weakness.

She heard him breath, heard him approach her, unsure, hesitant as he had been that sunlit eve in the gardens.

She scoffed, anger and confidence filling her again, “Was it all a lie, brother? All your proclamations? All your love?” He snaked his arms around her waist, wet lips touching her shoulder, her ear, her cheek. Visenya threw her head down, struggled out of his reach, refusing to let him have the final word, refusing to let him win her over that easily.

I am war.

“Was it funny for you?” She asked, “To flirt with her half our lives and come fuck me when night fell? Did it please you to use me?” Fool, she was. The greatest fool. Convinced that Aegon would be immune to her sister’s wiles, convinced that he’d put her first.

“I cannot say that I do not love her,” he admitted, and she watched the stars, blurry eyed, not trusting herself to speak and not weep. “You and I are one soul, Visenya,” he sounded wistful, as broken as she was, “When you ache this way,” he turned her forcefully, caught her face in his hands, though only inches below him she stood in stature, and she could see his eyes glisten, “I wish to bring the skies down to see you smile.”

To be as they once were—one heart, one soul, one flesh, one life. Dragons meant to be one for eternity. Balerion and Vhagar. Aegon and Visenya. His vision since boyhood broken in the face of another’s beauty.

“Then renounce her,” she confessed her wish, her voice loud and clear despite the treachery in her words, “Be mine, Aegon,” she buried her face in him, “Just you and me.” For eternity.

Aegon sighed, eyes again caught onto the horizon. Aegon gazed across the Blackwater, to the land ripe for conquest, his dreams returning to him. Dream of ice, dreams of blood. He told her, “I cannot.”

Visenya laughed, broken forever, and banged her fist against his chest in sync with her sobs that had finally broken free. He held her, his older sister, more torn apart by his fault than he had ever seen her before—and the thought crushed him.

What have I done? He dared ask, but he couldn’t—Rhaenys, Rhaenys, Rhaenys. Music for laughter and blossoms for smiles. He couldn’t let her go.

When her tears ceased, her eyes were red. She left his embrace, left him cold, and turned the bottle of Arbor Red over her mouth. She gulped the sour wine more out of necessity than desire, unable to face her failure or the fact that he wished to amend their bond. Knights defend.

When the glass bottle emptied its last drop on her tongue, she fell on her bed, dizzy, warm, hot, burning. Her final move, in this game of chess against Rhaenys, where Aegon was both prize and puppet.

“Come here,” she beckoned to her brother. Aegon followed her words, stood beside her bed, took her hand and let her lead it to her heart. She told him, in drunken ecstasy, her eyes unfocused and words slurred, “I am not her, Aegon—but I am still yours,” and she heard her own heart’s beat, its thrum, its drum within her as frantic as her thoughts’ run. Oh Meleys, grant him lust. Her eyes closed.

She remembered screaming, but not out of pain, remembered him promise to honour their vow also. She felt his skin against hers, the heft of his flesh moving, shifting, rhyming with hers. She remembered little, other than the warmth of his lips on her breast, the shivering feel of his seed dripping out of her cunt, oh, so familiar.

When she awoke, she found her voice almost entirely lost. Her head ached, worse than it had in a long time. She recalled no dreams, found her bed empty—but her skin littered with bruises and bites, a milky mess between her legs.

Visenya fell back on her bed, relishing in the feel of that moment—pained, tainted, claimed.

Checkmate.

[chibiytora-writes-sometimes]

NaNo Day One-

Today, we've met our leading lady, her sister, her future brother-in-law, her own in-laws, and her dead fiance!

Chapter One:

"Wake up, Straesil, we are nearly there!"

An elbow dug into her side as her sister's words drew her out of her nap. Straesil grunted, rubbing the spot that had been so rudely jabbed.

"Words would have been enough, you didn't need to attack me as well, you gremlin."

"You haven't even opened your eyes, Straesil! Look, you can see the castle!"

Straesil let out a long sigh, finally opening her eyes. "All I see is that giant ginger floof you call your hair, Breilla."

Breilla clicked her tongue, sitting back so Straesil could see out the window. "You don't have to be rude, you know."

"Says the brat that elbowed me awake. You'd think you've never seen a castle before."

Breilla rolled her eyes. "Yes, but it's not our castle, is it? It's a different shape, different grounds, different people…"

"Remind me why mother and father sent you, instead of just coming themselves?" Straesil asked with a bit of snark as she observed the castle drawing closer. Not that she'd admit it out loud, but the castle did look nice - made with pale green stone instead of the deep blue she was used to.

"Because mama is ill, and papa won't be able to come for a few weeks, and it's on the way to see my betrothed, so really I'll only be there for a few days, while you get settled in, before I head off. "

"Hm."

Silence fell, leaving both women to their thoughts as they approached the castle. Eventually, the pale green castle loomed outside, and the carriage pulled to a halt. Straesil reached for the door, only to have Breilla stop her.

"Straesil…" Breilla hesitated, then continued, "Straesil, I don't think mama and papa told them. About…you know."

Straesil's eyebrows shot up. "My curse?" Breilla nodded. "Thought that was universal knowledge, Be."

"In our kingdom, yes. From what father's been able to find out, outside our kingdom, all anyone knows is that you prefer to avoid the lavish events that come with your station. Hence the marriage to this kingdom's prince. The royal family prefers to stick close to home, and rarely hosts more than a ball or two each year. They might not think…well."

"Might not think I'm so odd?" Straesil prompted. "Suppose we shall see, won't we."

"Mama and papa just want you to be happy."

"I would be happier if I were not required to wed a stranger, in an unfamiliar land."

"Well you scared away all the eligible men back home." that got a laugh out of both of them. "Alright, Straesil, let's go meet your future."

***

After being escorted to their rooms, Straesil and Breilla were left to settle in and relax. They had several hours before dinner, and Breilla gladly took the time to rest - she'd had a hard time sleeping on the week's long trip, unused to sleeping on anything other than the absolute luxury of royal bedding. Straesil, on the other hand, had no issues sleeping almost anywhere, and was plenty rested.

While her sister slept in the next suite over, Straesil explored her own suite. After all, she'd be living in these rooms for…well, until she was moved to her husband's suite, she supposed. It was similar in size to her own suite back home, though the room that would have been a sitting room back home was a small library here.

"I could get used to this," She muttered to herself as she took in the titles on the tall shelves. She heard a 'tsk' from off to her side, but chose to ignore it. She wouldn't let things get to her for at least a day, she'd promised herself that. But perhaps now wasn't the best time to browse the books, if she was already getting interrupted. She left her new personal library, and headed for the entrance to the suites. There was a guard in the hallway, whom she greeted, before asking if she might be shown the castle.

And with that, she was off on a tour, learning her way around the castle.

***

Straesil and Breilla were announced as they were escorted into the dining hall, which seemed a bit ridiculous to Straesil  as there was only two other people in the hall - just her future in-laws. Thankfully, the dining table was a reasonable size, and they would not have to spend the meal conversing across a field's length table.

They made the usual small talk - how was the trip, have you had the tour, are you settled in, and so on. As the food was served, Breilla voiced something that had been on Straesil's mind as well.

"Your majesties, will the prince not be joining us for dinner?"

The King and King shared a look, before the Queen answered, "He is unfortunately…ill at the moment. He did ask me to pass on his apologies for missing your arrival," she nodded at Straesil, "He should be well again in a few days. Though…perhaps not before you have to leave, dear." This time her nod was towards Breilla.

There was a snort behind her, which Straesil ignored. "Oh, I do hope he is alright," she said in her best worried voice.

"He will be fine in short order," the King said, waving a hand in the air as if dismissing the idea of illness. "And then you can get acquainted while we plan the wedding."

"Oh yes! And once you get married you can come help plan mine!" Breilla exclaimed, excitement lighting her features. The Queen gave her a startled look.

"Are you not going to your future husband's in a few days?" she asked. Breilla smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I am. But mama and papa insist that Straesil should wed first, as the oldest. It's alright though, Amorin and I don't mind waiting a little bit, we've been courting for over a year already." She turned to her sister, giving a playful smirk. "That doesn't mean you should take forever, though. I've done my waiting."

Straesil fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, sister dearest. Forgive me for making you wait into your old age of seventeen before I allowed papa to marry me off."

"You're forgiven."

The Queen gave a quiet chuckle. "You two remind me of my sister and I when I was younger. Always poking at each other." She looked at Straesil. "Though that does bring up something I meant to ask. While you are still in your youth, you are a little…older than most princesses are when they are sent to be wed to other kingdoms…"

"I am guessing your question is why my father waited so long?" Straesil supplied. At the Queen's nod, Straesil let out a sigh. "When I much younger, I fell very ill for several months. It took many years for me to fully recover. My parents just wanted to make sure I was at my best, far pass any side effects, before finding me a suitable match. One wouldn't want to be a burden in a new marriage, after all."

***

"Oh, they gave you a suite with a library. Father must have told them you love to read! My little room is just a sitting room…"

"Breilla, it might be because I'll be here a bit longer."

Breilla huffed, rolling her eyes. "You know as well as I do that books are not usually the first thing a princess is given."

Straesil let out a hum. "True enough. Now, if you don't mind, I am off to sleep. I'm sure tomorrow will be eventful, and I need to be rested."

"Goodnight, Straesil. I'll tell mama and papa you're well when I mirror-call them in a bit." The two princesses hugged, and Breilla headed for the door. She hesitated a moment, before saying, "Straesil, about…you know…"

"Breilla, I'm not going to worry about it for at least a day. Let me just pretend for a bit, hm?"

With that Breilla left for her own suite, and Straesil headed for her bedchamber, doing her best to ignore the grumbling from the corner of the library.

***

The next morning, as the two princesses made their way down to the dining hall for breakfast, they were surprised to see a man with brown eyes and bright red hair being led to the hall.

"Amorin!" Breilla squealed, throwing herself forward. The man laughed, catching her in his arms and spinning them around.

"Why, hello my love! Pleased to see me?"

Straesil gave them an appraising look. "Come to steal her away early, have you?" Amorin gave Straesil  a sheepish smile.

"I couldn't possibly know what you mean. Pure coincidence there were some documents to deliver to the King here, and I just wanted a short trip from my castle you see…"

Straesil laughed. "To be fair, I guessed you would be here last night. Papa won that bet though, he figured you would be polite enough to give us a night here before showing up." Breilla gasped.

"You and Papa were betting on him?" she pouted.

"And mama, and half the staff…" Straesil patted her sister on the arm, and walked past her into the dining hall to join the King and Queen. "You two are adorably in love and very predictable."

Breakfast was a pleasant affair, and afterwards, Straesil went with Breilla to help her prepare to leave.

***

"I hadn't really settled in since I was supposed to leave in a few days anyway," Breilla smiled as she tucked her hairbrush into her travel bag. She glanced at her Straesil. "Will you be alright? I could ask Amorin if he wouldn't mind staying a few days…"

"Sister mine." Straesil took Breilla's hands in her own. "Go. Enjoy traveling with your future husband. I will be perfectly fine."

"Wouldn't count on that if I were you."

Straesil turned to face the door as it swung open, revealing Amorin.  He nodded at Straesil, then looked at Breilla with a smile. "Are you ready to go, love? I figured we could stop at the waterfalls on the way."

"Just about!" Breilla answered, closing the buckles on her bag.

"Don't let her lie to you, Amorin, she's been ready to go run off with you since we left home last week." Straesil teased. Breilla stuck her tongue out, and Straesil just laughed. "Come on you two, I'll see you off."

Chapter Two:

Today marked six months since [UNNAMEDDEADPRINCE] had been killed. Looking back, there were definitely things he should have noticed, that if he had noticed, perhaps he would still be alive. Not that there was much he could do now - being dead was rather limiting.

Today also marked something else, apparently - the start of the end of his kingdom. The usurper (a warlock his father broke a contract with, and was now being controlled by said warlock) and his helper (he guessed it was the warlock's son, now disguised as  [UNNAMEDDEADPRINCE]) had arranged a marriage for the fake prince. His poor mother was under a spell, which was horrible, but at least she hadn't been killed yet. But this marriage…

 [UNNAMEDDEADPRINCE] found being dead to be…educational. He supposed he was a ghost - he couldn't seem to touch anything, but he was able to observe quite a lot, and no door could stop him.

Well, except the ones the Warlock had placed magic on. He couldn't even float through the walls to those rooms, like he'd taken to doing when he did not feel like floating through doors.

Now he was watching the two princesses as they were led to their suites. The one he was fairly sure he'd seen before - yes, at a party Amorin had held nearly a year ago. Pale blue eyes and very curly orange hair that seemed to float around her head like a cloud - his best friend, Amorin, had been smitten from the first moment the two had met. She'd made a passing comment about having an older sister, still unwed -  [UNNAMEDDEADPRINCE] hadn't thought much of it at the time, to be honest. Marriage wasn't something he wanted to rush into.

__________________

Aaaaand that's it for Day One. Just around 2k words I think, so not a bad start. I haven't settled on a name for our prince yet, but I have a few that I'm tossing around. Guess we will see where day two takes us on that, as I didn't get very far into his chapter. :( Poor boy.

[ts3lightclan]

(1.44) Growing Resolve

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

As the sun set over the newly-defrosted forest, Mousetail headed toward the camp's heart. She had spent the day hunting, as did most of the clan's warriors. Since the weather was so nice now, it was ideal to spend that time gaining strength and keeping the clan healthy... or so Mousetail figured.

Of course, the nice weather didn't override everything that was on Mousetail's mind.

Stormflower's proposal still weighed heavily on her thoughts as she mulled it over and over and over... the thought of reuniting with her long-estranged father was nothing to scoff at. He had been exiled long ago for what Honeypurr always said was an unfortunate misunderstanding... but what if Antstride was right to worry? Her brother was too worried about getting in trouble to be completely on board, and though Birchshine had said she wanted to come along...

...Mousetail couldn't help resenting her sister, who continued to fawn over Magicburst whenever she thought nobody was looking. Mousetail had told her directly about the fight she and Magicburst got into just days ago, but Birchshine insisted there must have been... some sort of misunderstanding. But what was there to misunderstand? Magicburst made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in making amends.

She did her best to ignore the lovey-dovey scene that took place just fox-lengths away from her, a wave of distant anger growing in her chest. It's fine. It would be fine. Birchshine can like whoever she wants. Even if that cat happened to be a piece of-

"Fox-dung!" Mousetail hissed under her breath as she bumped into someone exiting the bushes, though she swiftly bit her tongue as she recognized Stormflower's spotted pelt.

"Oh! Pardon me," The healer apologized casually, seeming completely unbothered by the impact. "I didn't realize any cats would be out here."

"Yeah, plenty of cats are still out and about." Mousetail couldn't help the venom in her tone, though she did feel a little bad about the subtle jab at her sister's whereabouts. Stormflower seemed briefly puzzled by the response for a moment, but she soon appeared to understand.

"Here, walk with me," The spotted molly requested, leading Mousetail with a flick of her ear. Mousetail followed, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

"I was hoping to give you more time to think about my offer," Stormflower began, "But it appears our bumping into one another has come at a convenient time. I was just on my way to meet with him."

Mousetail felt her pelt jolt in surprise. "Y-You were going to see..?"

"Your father, yes," She hummed softly. "You're welcome to tag along if you'd like. He may be a bit shocked to see you, though."

"I..."

The words dried up on her tongue. Mousetail had wanted to wait for Antstride to be convinced, and for Birchshine to have a moment to join them, but...

"...I'd like that, actually," She mumbled.

"Wonderful! Shall we go, then? We shouldn't be too long, but perhaps with the long trek... we might not be back until morning."

Mousetail nodded, almost afraid that she'd change her mind if she opened her mouth. Surely her siblings couldn't fault her for... taking the opportunity while it was there?

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

Birchshine and Magicburst have been spending more and more time together now that Birchshine has become a warrior. The two are now good friends.

Mousetail decides to join Stormflower in visiting Skunktooth without consulting her siblings further. The pair sneaks off to meet him under the cover of the night.

Along the way, the pair discover a gemstone sparkling with the light of the moon. Sensing its importance, Stormflower collects it.

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Nine}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

*CHAPTER WARNING: nsfw, 18+

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father.   Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war. 

A/N: And so the romance begins...last scene nsfw. As always, we'd love to know what you think. Thanks for reading!

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

Dear Readers,

I hear that three very prominent sisters will be arriving in the city proper today from a long weekend away with a certain group of gentlemen. If the countryside properly worked its charm, I wonder if we will see a ring?

If not, might we all wonder why? The most eligible bachelor of the season may not be eligible for long.

What shall I wear to the wedding?

Yours Truly,

The Suriel

<.>

The carriage ride back to the city was quiet, but Elain was looking out at the passing landscape, a grin on her lips.

Feyre was quiet, having nothing to say since they said their goodbyes to the gentlemen. Nesta, however, had a whirlwind of thoughts jumbled in her mind. Her conversation the night before in the garden with Azriel had been nice, but it had only heightened her emotions.

Cassian may have been a good male, but she still did not approve, did not give her blessing.

“Did you enjoy your weekend?” Nesta asked. Although she spoke to both of her sisters, it was Elain that spoke up.

“It was the loveliest, was it not?” She beamed, finally meeting the eyes of her sister. “I have never felt so welcome. Lord Cassian is such a kind soul, don’t you think?”

Nesta gave her sister a tight-lipped smile. “He was the most welcoming.”

Elain turned her gaze to Feyre. “The Viscount was watching you during breakfast. Did you notice?”

Feyre gave her sister a smile that was equally tense as Nesta’s. “I did.”

Nesta had also noticed, but as her youngest sister wasn’t returning his looks, she felt she had nothing to worry about.

Taking Feyre’s clipped answer as a sign she did not wish to discuss anything further, Elain turned back to Nesta. “I had many meaningful conversations with the Baron. Did you know he enjoys going to fights and other sporting events?”

Nesta cringed, because of course Cassian would enjoy the brutality of the fighting pits. “Good, Lainy,” she said, though it didn’t hold the fondness it usually did when she used her sister’s childhood nickname. Elain was fidgeting with the necklace of pearl she wore, and Nesta couldn’t ignore it. “What is it?”

Her expression turned soft and hopeful. “I think he may propose at the next ball. I’d bet he comes by the house at some point this week to speak with you.”

Her grin was so pretty that Nesta wished she didn’t have to speak the words that came next.

“He has not yet earned my blessing, Elain,” she said, carefully. “If he comes to ask for your hand, I will not yet say yes.”

Elains smile faltered before disappearing entirely. “Pardon?”

It was the first time Nesta had ever heard anything that closely resembled cruelty in Elain’s tone. “He has not earned my blessing,” Nesta repeated.

Feyre’s eyes had slowly drifted back out the window.

“He has earned mine,” Elain said, brows furrowed, voice cool. “Is that not enough?”

“No,” Nesta spat. “I am your chaperone. I have the final say. He needs my blessing and no one else’s.”

Elains lips formed a thin line. “Your job, per father’s instructions, is to bring me and Feyre out into society until a man proposes. When he asks for your permission, you will grant it.”

Nesta’s brow slowly rose. “He has already asked, and I have told him no.”

Feyre’s eyes wandered back into the carriage, darting between Nesta and Elain. 

“You would deny me this happiness?” Elain asked, voice darker than she’d ever heard it.

It seemed Nesta was having none of it. “You yourself told me you wish to marry for love. You do not love him, nor does he love you. Am I denying you happiness if I want you to find that man you love?”

“It is not my duty to find a man I love,” Elain replied, snapping at her. “Just like it is not your duty to pretend you are Mother.”

The carriage was silent, save for the rattling of the wheels as they rode along the cobblestone streets of Velaris. She hadn’t even realized they were back in the city proper.

Nesta was quiet for a long moment, letting Elain’s words settle in the cab. “Father has tasked me with ensuring both of you end up with your matches for the season, however long that may take. Lord Nazari may continue to court you for the rest of the season, but as of now, I do not approve of who he is as your husband.”

Elain scoffed and crossed her arms as she broke Nesta’s gaze and looked at the townhouses as they passed.

Nesta would not feel guilty. 

She was doing what was right, whether Elain believed it to be true or not. She was not pretending to be their mother, but she was caring for Elain, just as she always had.

The rest of the ride was silent, and as they stopped in front of their manor, Nesta said, “You may not agree with me but I am doing this for you. You should marry a man that you desire to be with because you are in love. If you fall in love with Lord Cassian, and he with you, I will happily give my blessing. Until then, all I will say is to keep your eyes open to the other valuable gentlemen. If you two will be forced to marry, you will marry men who cherish you. There will be no more discussion about it.”

Elain’s lips pursed and the second the carriage came to a stop, she was out and walking inside.

Nesta and Feyre sat in silence for a moment before Feyre said, quietly, “She’ll come around.”

She left, leaving Nesta alone, and Nesta began thinking that may have been the nicest thing Feyre had ever said to her.

If nothing else, at least she had that.

<.>

Azriel was admiring his sketch of Lady Elain in Cassian’s sitting room, the three of them deciding to stay one more day at the country home, when Cassian and Rhysand came in carrying a full glass decanter of whiskey.

He blinked, slowly setting down his charcoal and closed his sketchbook. “Shall I even ask?”

“We never properly celebrated your acceptance to art school,” Rhysand grinned, plopping down on the couch and unbuttoning his vest before rolling up his sleeves. “Considering you begin this week, we thought it was the perfect time to celebrate.”

“And by celebrate you mean get drunk?” Azriel asked, amused.

“Well…yes.” Cassian said, slinging his arm around Azriel’s shoulder. “It is what we do best after all.”

Azriel chuckled as he pulled a rag from his bag and rubbed off the charcoal staining his fingers. “I can’t argue with you, so I guess let’s have at it.”

“Attaboy.” Cassian ruffled his hair and reached out to take the full glass Rhysand had poured for their brother. He handed it to Azriel, who sniffed lightly.

Those hazel eyes looked between his brothers. “Did you open the good stuff?” He took a sip, eyes falling closed. He hummed quietly. “You opened the good stuff.”

“Like I said, this is a celebration, Az,” Rhysand said, pouring equally full glasses for himself and Cassian. “You, unlike the two of us, are actually attempting to do something with your life. The Academy is the start of that.”

Cassian made an offended noise, but drank regardless.

Az chuckled, taking another, much larger drink. “I can’t believe it. I’ve dreamed of attending for so long.”

“Well those dreams are becoming a blissful reality, my friend,” Cassian said, setting his glass down and reaching for Azriel’s sketchbook. “I don’t recognize this book, so it must be new. What have you been working on while we’ve been here?”

Azriel quickly snatched the sketchbook off the table. “It’s…nothing of importance.”

Rhysand and Cassian slowly looked at one another before looking back at Azriel with predatory grins.

It was the acceptance letter all over again.

Cassian lunged for the book while Rhysand tackled Azriel onto the couch. If anyone were to see them now, they would be concerned for the most handsome bachelors of the ton.

Very unlordlike, indeed. 

When the book was successfully in Cassian’s hands, Azriel groaned. It was of no use. Cassian was too stubborn to stop until he had exactly what he wanted, this included.

Azriel drained his glass and went to refill as Cassian opened the book. He and Rhysand looked through the pages.

“These are phenomenal,” Rhysand muttered, watching as Cassian turned the page, once more. “Truly, Az.”

“Thanks,” he said, counting down the seconds until Cassian saw.

And when he did, his hand froze. “Az?”

Azriel just blinked.

“This is Miss Elain, is it not?” Cassian went on, head tilted to the side. “Might I ask why you have a portrait of Miss Elain?”

“She… I… We…” His stammering was not making him look innocent, so he cleared his throat and reached for the decanter. Refilling his glass, Azriel explained, “I was sketching after breakfast yesterday and Miss Elain happened upon the sitting room and sat in with me for a few minutes. We ended up talking about the Academy and she asked I would draw her.” He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and took a drink. “I don’t have much practice drawing other people, which is something I’ll be doing a lot of at the Academy, so I figured it could be good exercise.”

Cassian’s eyes left his brother and fell back on the portrait.

Azriel held his breath while he waited for him to say something, anything.

He really shouldn’t have entertained her by sketching her, or even spending so much time alone. Out here in the country, no one would know, but if anyone found out, it could ruin Elain’s reputation.

That was never his intent.

But then Cassian’s mouth quirked up. “You did manage to capture her stunning beauty, brother. I may have to steal this when you’re not looking.”

Azriel laughed, nerves still settled in his stomach as he nodded. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye on it.”

Rhysand chirped in when asking, “Do you need practice drawing others in the nude? I volunteer to sit for you.”

Azriel snorted as he drank, but it was Cassian that grinned. “What a sight that would be.” He took a drink before adding, “Miss Feyre would certainly agree.”

Rhysand lifted a nonchalant brow. “What makes you say that?”

“Even I saw the way you two looked at one another over breakfast this morning before their departure,” Azriel said, Cassian closing his sketchbook at last and setting it on the coffee table. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rhysand muttered, although his eyes lit with amusement. He knew very well of the glances he snuck at Feyre over breakfast and the annoyed looks she shot back at him across the table.

“Lies,” Cassian crooned, kicking his feet up on the table. If Miryam entered, he would surely be scolded. “For a man that does not want to wed, you seem to be quite smitten with the youngest Archeron sister.”

“Smitten,” Rhysand scoffed. “I don’t have the capacity to feel that.”

“And what do you have the capacity to feel?” Cassian shot back, glass dangling between his fingers.

“For you, general annoyance,” Rhysand replied, smiling at him. “Feyre Archeron is a beautiful young lady, yes, but I am not courting her and I am certainly not smitten with her. I am just…showing her that she does not have to settle for Tamlin.”

“Settle?” Azriel asked, eyes wide. “Settle for a prince? Have you well and truly lost your mind?”

Rhysand heaved a sigh and took a deep drink from his glass. “Have the two of you truly not noticed how miserable she is whenever she’s forced to be in his presence?”

Cassian looked completely oblivious, but seeing as his attention had been constantly wrapped up in the two eldest Archeron sisters, Rhys wasn’t surprised. Azriel, however, grimaced. “I wouldn’t say she’s miserable, but for someone who is likely going to be a future princess, she sure doesn’t look as excited as some of the other young ladies he’s danced with.”

“Exactly. He makes her miserable,” Rhysand stated, satisfied. “Therefore, she should not marry him.”

“So she should marry who?” Cassian asked. “Not you, certainly, so if you are persuading her against the prince, who shall she marry?”

Rhysand’s eyes flickered as he took another drink. “I suppose that is up to her.”

Azriel shook his head while Cassian laughed. “And you expect us to believe you have no feelings whatsoever toward her?”

Rhysand downed his drink, slowly, hoping to move to another conversation as Cassian simply repeated, “Lies.”

<.>

Feyre laid in bed, wide awake.

It had to be nearing midnight and, after the weekend they’d had, she was exhausted. Yet, sleep would not come.

It reminded her of the night in the country, when she wandered to the library in hopes of finding something to help. Instead, she found Rhysand and a horribly inappropriate situation.

One that still burned in the back of her mind. 

If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the scent of mint and whiskey of his breath, she could almost imagine what his lips would feel like against hers.

She had let someone kiss her before, had kissed Isaac Hale between the stacks of her family library when she was fifteen. Isaac had kissed like a boy though. He’d awkwardly slid his tongue around her mouth and bitten her lip so hard, he’d drawn blood. As his family was staying with hers for the fall, she had to quickly come up with an excuse for her busted lip, and no one but the two of them had ever known.

Looking at Rhysand though, how his eyes took in every inch of her, she knew he would kiss like a man. He would grab and touch and…and possess and make her feel alive.

Feyre hadn’t even realized she was breathing as heavily as she was until her eyes opened and she found herself staring at the painted ceiling of her canopy. All she could see were those dark eyes, so dark the violet iris was almost nonexistent, as he leaned down towards her.

And then she’d stopped him and ran back to her rooms. But…what if she hadn’t? What if she’d let him kiss her?

She imagined the kiss would start off slow, nothing but their lips touching. The softest of brushes as his lips caressed hers, but then one of his hands would caress her face, while the other wrapped around her waist. She’d feel all of him in a way she never had before, thanks to the thin nightgown she’d been wearing.

The same one she was currently wearing.

He wouldn’t stop there. Feyre assumed that Rhysand, a man so full of passion, would give it all or nothing at all. 

Those hands, so perfectly positioned, would soon roam her body. He would feel all he could, with that thin fabric being their only barrier. His hands would wander every inch she allowed him, and his tongue would find hers. She would taste him, savor him, take her time as she kissed him back.

Now, tangled in her bedsheets, Feyre’s hand swept down her abdomen and beneath her nightgown. At first, she hadn’t even realized she was doing it, but by the time her finger found that sensitive nub and circled it, slowly, she knew full well what she was doing.

And was not ashamed by the face, the lips, that filled her mind, controlled her senses.

He was aggravating, conceited, a pompous rake, and yet it was he that Feyre could not stop thinking of. The way he looked at her, with those dark, violet eyes.

All the ways he could touch her, could taste her… It had her body writhing beneath the touch of her hand.

She knew more of what happened between a man and woman than most women her age did. Those novels Nesta loved so much were good for something, at least, and Feyre thought of how it would feel to have Rhysand’s hands on her instead of her own. She wondered whether he’d prefer to torture her with slow circles around her clit or if he’d… if he’d fuck her with his fingers.

Feyre blushed thinking of the word, despite what she was doing, but it led her mind farther. 

She gasped softly, slipping a finger into her center, pumping a few times before adding another. Gripping her breast with her free hand, Feyre’s back arched off the bed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, it only took a moment before Feyre was quietly gasping, her release shimmering right in front of her, if only she could reach it.

She circled her clit, so close, right on the edge of all-consuming pleasure she had always dreamed of—

And then it was gone, and Feyre’s eyes fluttered open, breathing heavily, the orgasm she’d been so close to slipped away. Her hand was still between her legs.

She tried to get that sensation back but it wouldn’t come. As the night went on, she was left dreamless, wide awake, a pair of violet eyes haunting her thoughts.

Mocking her.

__________________________________________________________

@mariamuses @photofeesh @the-regal-warrior @gracie-rosee @irisofink @strawberries-and-reveries @zeppelin-and-unicorns @live-the-fangirl-life @cassianscool @clacings @argentumstella @cuppamelia @chillspritecranberry @emilyrose111294 @awesomelena555 @gengen64 @dontbenddontbreak @blueunoias @liliput2203 @sleeping-and-books @kindofawalkingpoem @thebitchydonutcollector @shedoessoshedoes @cretaceous-therapod @emily-gsh @annie-laur @impossiblehistoryofquotes @midnightrose-reader @beanl1 @shniya-hiiragi @towhateverend87 @deezrmuhsheeple @pintas3107 @sarcasm-is-the-best-insult @santkazoya @lady-winter-sunrise @themoonthestarsthesuriel @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @sv0430 @dreammoutlouddd @katlady13 @lokisllama @mrspettyferr @missannieshay @live-the-fangirl-life @headinclouds48 @secretlycressdarnel @awesomethreedragons @lokisllama @littlehoneyybee @vicioux @cest-la-vieve @lokisllama  @thewinterroza

[reeseisinapiece]

you're my best friend, i love you forever

irl!georgenotfound x female!reader

drabble?

my first post and story. be nice plz :):

cw: one swear word, sad gnf, angst? to fluff to angst, cheating

word count: 772

agony, sadness, and regret would all be good ways to describe the way (y/n) felt at that moment. watching her childhood best friend also the love of her life stand at the front of the church watching his fiancé, abbey, the woman (y/n) had come to loathe and attempted to hate. but as much as she tried to she couldn't find a single thing to hate, the way she was so positive, the way she could always make someone laugh, and as much as (y/n) tried to hate her, she knew george was happier with her even though it hurt, she noticed how he would always smile when she walked in a room, looked at her a little longer than necessary, and the worst part of it all stopped hanging out with (y/n). they could barely go a day away from each other, but then she had to come ruin it all and days went to weeks and weeks turned into months.

the painful reality of george and (y/n) drifting apart had finally began.

that's why she was so happy when george texted (y/n) the beautiful words she cheated-of course she was sad for him, but this was the hopeful end of drinking wine while binge watching marvel movies in chronological order.

after stopping at a store to get tequila and george's favorite snacks, (y/n) walked up to abbey and his flat, pulling out her spare keys that she had probably had for years now. walking in (y/n) took notice to the boxes at the door, and the absence of abbeys shoes and coat by the door like they were the other times she'd been over. "george, it's (y/n)," she called out waiting for a response, when she didn't get one, she walked over to the bedroom that was once shared by the married couple. she knocked on the door, when she again didn't get a response, she opened the door and took in the lump of blankets and pillows that most likely held george in the middle of it. "georgie..it's (y/n)," she said while walking in his direction. "go away," he replied "i'm not going anywhere, georgie," she said in response. "i brought you some takeout..and tequila," at that the lump in the bed was opened and revealed a very red puffy eyed george.

after lots of crying while stuffing junk food, tequila and chinese food in their mouths and one tipsy and the other wasted tipsy best friends

george had always been able to handle alcohol better so it was no suprise that he was just a bit tipsy, (y/n) on the other hand was a lot more than tipsy, some might even say tipsy. "you're so pretty, georgie, abbey most of been one dumb bitch to cheat on someone so pretty," (y/n) slurred. "really?" george asked in response. "really." the other one responded, "i love you georgie, i've loved you since we were 12, especially when you would get me cats in minecraft. i was so mad when you said you wanted marry, someone who shall not be named, let alone when you actually did it," (y/n) rambles. george froze, he was shocked. i mean you would also be shocked if the person you viewed as a sister confessed their love for you. (y/n) certainly sobered up quickly, she stammered for a response but george beat her to it. "(y/n), you're my best friend and i love you forever," (y/n) saw a glimpse of hope from is words but it was quick to disappear when he quickly followed up with "but i don't like you like that and i could never, i mean you're like my sister. i don't want this to change our friendship but i just don't like you like that," before he could even finish what he was saying (y/n) was already grabbing her stuff and heading for the door head down in humiliation and shame, she reaches for the door only to be stopped by a hand on her wrist. "let me go george," she pleaded, ignoring the jab in his heart from the lack of the nickname she always used. "please don't go, we can take about this," he attempted to convince her. "there's nothing to talk about george." she stated calmly. "please-," he was cut off by her yelling "let me go george!" it shocked him enough to let go and she had just enough time to run out of his room and out the flat. once she was finally in her car, she allowed herself to break down, mourn her probably ruined friendship.

you're my best friend and i love you forever

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

June

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for June 2021! Below the cut you’ll find  One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

Behind those Fire Eyes by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf 

[Zayn/Liam, Explicit, 2k, tumblr post]

Liam’s messy xo scrawled on one of the discs called out to him. He carefully slid it out and put it in one of the three CD slots, and hit play with a smirk.

Liam had been unbearably proud of this mix. Rightfully so, Zayn could admit with just a hint of jealousy. It was made with a very specific purpose in mind, and it was, Zayn realized, swallowing thickly as his cock kicked in interest, very effective.

Playin’ It Safe and Breakin’ The Rules by local_troubled_writer / @local-troubled-writer

[Harry/Louis, Mature, 90k, tumblr post]

In his life, Louis Tomlinson set out to do three things: find a way to make art that he loves, make his mum proud, and have as much fun as he could reasonably fit into one lifetime.

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice calls.

“Hi,” Louis pops his head out of his doorway, motioning Harry back. “Louis,” he holds his hand out for Harry to shake and a small grin takes over the popstar’s face. He’s taller than he seems in photographs, but his smile is just the same as the ones that used to wallpaper his sisters’ walls.

“Harry.” He seems to have just gotten off stage, still sweating in a pair of skin-tight black jeans but a soft-looking blue vest. A beige headscarf holds his long curls off his face and he has all the easy confidence of a world-famous pop sensation, but still slouches in a way that isn't unfamiliar to Louis’ own posture.

“Yeah, I know who you are, popstar.” Louis teases, pulling his hand away and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.

The Ground Below is Above My Feet by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 63k, tumblr post]

“-ouis, are you awake?”

“M’ff,” Louis manages.

His eyes slip closed when he remembers where he is. Who he is. There are soft sheets against his skin and the warmth of Harry’s breath brushing his cheek.

“You were sleeping like the dead,” Harry muses and pushes Louis’ fringe from his face with a delicate finger. “Could barely tell if you were breathing for a moment.”

Louis’ heart stutters, his throat working hard to swallow the swelling lump of ugly truth. He blinks. Holds back the obvious joke.

Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

[Louis/Harry, Teen & Up, 18k, tumblr post]

Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

just the thought of you by @disgruntledkittenface

[Liam/Harry, Mature, 2k, tumblr post]

Harry's been pining after her neighbor for two years. It only takes a small kitchen fire for her to make a move.

making my way downtown by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Louis, Mature, 2k, tumblr post]

“Bye, Harry!”

“See you tomorrow, hon!”

Harry turns in the doorway and waves before he hitches the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and steps out onto the pavement. He tries to ignore the pang of regret after he couldn’t muster a smile, knowing that the middle-aged women he works with love him and won’t hold it against him. The walk from the bakery to his apartment takes almost an hour, which is usually brutal after being on his feet for a full shift, but he decides to skip the bus today. Maybe the sunshine and light breeze will lift the mood that had taken a nosedive when he checked his phone after getting off work.

So Louis didn’t text him back. So what?

So fucking everything.

Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, General, 14k, tumblr post]

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

When the dust settles (Will we be alright?) by writing_practice / @mercurial-madhouse 

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 3k, tumblr post]

Harry closes the distance between them until the inebriating scent from the newly-presented omega nearly overwhelms him. Learning to balance both genders with their pheromones yet to settle, those who’ve just presented have the strongest scents.

In this world, Louis’ scent is a death sentence. They both know they’re racing fate, luck, and time now.

A drabble-turned-ficlet in honor of the brilliant prompt: Male omegas are practically extinct. Most were eradicated due to their magical abilities, leading alphas to fear and envy them and declare civil war. A few hundred years have passed. Louis is a late bloomer, waiting to present as a beta… things don’t go as planned.

Among Lavender Fields by @homosociallyyours

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 70k, tumblr post]

At twenty-one, Louis Tomlinson is more than ready to shed the girl next door image that's been with her since her entry into film in her childhood, but with a mother and father steeped in Hollywood tradition it's felt impossible. Meanwhile, Harry Styles is a young, struggling musician new to London, friendless yet eager for the next phase of her life to begin.

When French director Marie Coutard casts the two of them in her film, it's a chance for both to break away from the people they've been. Together, they struggle through an acting process that's new and unfamiliar for both of them, learning more than they could've imagined about themselves along the way. As they spend long days picking lavender and long nights sharing the things they've never been able to tell anyone else, their love blooms.

Will the flower fade, or will the love they make among lavender fields be one they carry with them to the end?

i’m gonna keep this love, if you’ll let me by pixies / @tomlinbuns 

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 26k, tumblr post]

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

Hot Chocolate by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 6k, tumblr post]

Harry wants to make something new for Hot Chocolates, his small batch chocolate shop. Louis offers to help.

IS IT A SIGN? by bluegreenish / @greenblueish 

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 25k, tumblr post]

“Also, I didn’t mean it literally,” Harry continues his rambling, gesticulating to support his point. “You don’t owe me a beer and I surely don’t expect you to buy me anything, it was just to start a conversation but you’re obviously not interested in that. Which, again, maybe next time an omega, or anyone really, approaches you, you could convey -”

To Harry’s surprise, he’s interrupted by the handsome stranger, who’s been weirdly fixated on his lips the whole time. What a creep!

“You speak so fast, I can’t read your lips like this.”

What? Harry’s frown deepens and he just stares at the man, waiting for him to explain. Because why the hell would he need to read Harry’s lips? They’re not in some detective movie.

The man rolls his eyes at Harry’s obvious lack of understanding.

“I’m deaf,” he huffs and points to his ear.

And oh. Yikes. That’s kind of embarrassing.

or, the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister’s wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn’t have to be the only means of communication.

Shadow Dancing by Layne Faire / @laynefaire 

[Zayn/Liam, Explicit, wip, 11k+, tumblr post]

As a small child, Liam Payne dreamed of being a firefighter. He took up boxing to defend himself from school bullies, but never lost sight of his dream. 15 years later, Liam is set to be the youngest brigade watch commander in his district, and his recent boxing win puts him in line for the British national title - if he can learn to get out of his own way.

Zayn took his first dance lesson at 5, after watching his sister's tap class. At 18, when an injury derails Zayn's dream of dancing professionally, he sets it aside to attend university, but the lure of dancing proves too great to ignore. He becomes an instructor, and eventually, the owner of a small dance studio, where he encourages other dancers to chase their dreams.

When their worlds collide in a cacophony of misunderstandings, Zayn, confronted with his own biases, realizes there’s more to Liam than meets the eye, and offers to help him prepare for his upcoming fight.

While Liam learns to dance, Zayn learns the art of compromise, and along the way, they find each other.

And when tragedy strikes, Liam finds that Zayn’s love will help him face the shadows of his past, and give him the courage to believe in himself and his dreams for the future.

Between Us Still by jiksa / @jiksax 

[Zayn/Harry, Explicit, 7k, tumblr post]

It’s been three years since Zayn scribbled “Sorry” on the mirror of Harry’s hotel bathroom in Hong Kong, grabbed his passport and made a run for it in the middle of the night.

Or, Zayn breaks up with Gigi, hides out in a beach house in Florida, and definitely doesn't expect Harry to turn up.

In The Night Sky (Like Shooting Stars) by jiksa / @jiksax 

[Harry/Nick Grimshaw, Explicit, 23k, tumblr post]

Trouble’s been coming for months when it finally hits. Harry in his passenger seat, Harry at his dining table, Harry in his bed. Nick’s felt it coming, and he’s done the only reasonable thing he could think of under the circumstances: stuck his head in the sand and resolutely ignored it.

Or, It's Nick's single greatest achievement that he hasn’t let them fuck this up. (Yet.)

Use You As A Focal Point by jiksa / @jiksax

[Louis/Nick Grimshaw, Mature, 2k, Sequel, tumblr post]

“What am I, the fucking twink whisperer? You’ve been nothing but horrible to me. Last time I tried to kiss you, you lobbed a Chelsea boot at my head.”

Louis shows up at Nick's front door on the wrong side of midnight, asking for... things.

That Same Old Love by jiksa / @jiksax

[Harry/Nick Grimshaw, Explicit, 19k, tumblr post]

This thing of theirs was always going to fall apart. Nick just hadn’t realised how much of himself it would take down with it.

Fakes (Streaming Live) by @allwaswell16

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 4k, tumblr post]

Alpha camboy Henry Steel has a rather unfortunate crush on omega camboy Luscious Lucas. He also has a rather unfortunate secret that’s about to be revealed.

Slip ‘n Slide by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, General, 100 words, tumblr post]

Ten years later at the neighborhood block party.

Where Dragons Dwell by @laynefaire / Layne Faire

[Zayn/Liam, Teen & Up, 100 words, tumblr post]

There’s nothing like a road trip to spark a burst of inspiration.

It’s All About the Driver by @laynefaire / Layne Faire

[OT5 friendship, Teen & Up, 100 words, tumblr post]

Liam and Harry trust Zayn and Louis to behave on their golf outing. Niall knows better.

Eye of the Storm by @laynefaire / Layne Faire

[Zayn/Liam, Teen & Up, 100 words, tumblr post]

In the heat of a summer storm, the possibilities for something new are limitless.

Factor 50 by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld

[Louis/Harry, General, 100 words, tumblr post]

Harry’s fingers long to touch.

Always a Bridesmaid by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 30k, tumblr post]

While Harry’s friends are all getting engaged or married, he’s nowhere near walking down the aisle to his own happily ever after.

The night before his best friend’s wedding, Harry falls into bed with a silver haired stranger who makes him wonder what his own forever might look like.

Rising to the Occasion by @ladyaj-13 / ladyaj_13

[Louis/Harry, General, 3k, tumblr post]

The camera pans across lush parkland to highlight a white tent, crisp and blinding in the spring sunshine. Four people cross the green lawn, elbows knocking until one is shoved to the side. The camera shot changes, zooming in on the same four figures lined up in cream aprons.

“We’re One Direction,” they say, with cheesy grins and almost in unison. “And this is The Great British Stand up to Cancer Bakeoff!”

Now All The Clouds Been Lifted by @haztobegood

[Niall/Greg James, Teen & Up, 6k, tumblr post]

When a new midday news anchor gets hired at the station, Niall finds he can’t look away from the beta. If he dares to take a chance, his attraction just might precipitate into a crazy little thing called love.

Can’t Buy My Love...Can Buy My Dinner by @ladyaj-13 / ladyaj_13

[Louis/Harry, General, 9k, tumblr post]

Is it ethical to accept a dinner date for the free food? And will you hate me when I go anyway? Fact 1: Louis hates Harry Styles. Fact 2: Louis is temporarily living off toast and spaghetti hoops. Fact 3: ...Louis may be semi-accidentally dating his worst enemy.

Summer Sun (Something’s Begun) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 100 words, tumblr post]

From when he’s 11, Harry and his family spend each summer vacationing in the beach town where Louis lives.

When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Pink Lemonade to Match Your Crush’s Lips by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Zayn/Harry, General, 100 words, tumblr post]

While Zayn is helping her little sister with her lemonade stand, her cute neighbor stops by hoping for something sweet.

Maybe I’m A-maized by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 100 words, tumblr post]

Inspired by watching him eat corn on the cob in a very Harry fashion, Louis gets a sex toy for them to try out.

BLAH BLAH BLAH there’s a moment you know (you’re f*cked) by @mercurial-madhouse

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 3k, tumblr post]

Anyone impulsive enough to betray their country is either foolish or overly-confident. Louis’s too cunning for the former. So his inflated ego tips precariously close to the edge between pride and hubris.

In sum: He may be an expert, (as proven by the 32-cal Beretta Alleycat Harry found strapped to his back) but ex-agent Louis Tomlinson will explode like a busted bullet misfiring in a broken gunbarrel if Harry can find his trigger.

Or, the spy AU in which Harry thinks he’s prepared to meet Louis only to find out he’s not.

A Sleep Story Just For You by @lululawrence

[Louis/Harry, Not Rated, 7k, tumblr post]

The Trans Siberian Railroad by Harry Styles.

Louis pouted a little. He wished that some of the names he actually recognized and knew he could fall asleep to were available for free, but maybe this Harry guy was better than the woman with the grating, condescending tone.

When Louis clicked on the image for the story there was a bit of a pause, and then a deep voice came through the speakers of his phone.

Holy shit. Louis’ eyes went wide as a chill ran down his spine. The man’s voice was glorious. It was a rich baritone that Louis wanted to have whispering in his ear while they did dirty, dirty things together.

Louis paused. Maybe that was what he needed.

Or four times Louis uses the Calm App to help him get to sleep, and one time he doesn’t need to.

Maybe You’ll Like the Way I Am by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, Not Rated, 56k, tumblr post]

Harry stood on his doorstep, waving a little as he shuffled his feet. “Hi, I brought you some cookies.”

Louis finally realized Harry was holding a plate with at least a dozen chocolate chip cookies.

“How’d you know chocolate chip was my favorite?”

Harry scrunched his nose. “I, uh, they’re actually peanut butter chocolate chunk, so I really hope you don’t have a peanut allergy. There’s a lot of peanut butter and chocolate in these. But also, I just hoped that was something you liked because I actually have a favor to ask?”

When Louis’ alpha neighbor asks him to pretend to be his omega for a week, Louis immediately says no. He has too much he’s dealing with on his own, and he swore to himself he’d never get that close to an alpha again. Unable to hold to that resolve once guilt sets in, Louis finds that maybe fumbling his way through a fake relationship for a week was exactly what he needed to finally be able to move on.

Hint: I want to be yours by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 11k, tumblr post]

Thinking back to Harry’s rut, Louis shivers, needing to put effort into keeping other bodily reactions at bay.

“Are you cold?”

While Niall’s been commenting through the entire film, Harry had stayed mostly quiet, so it’s a surprise when he speaks up, eyes zeroed in on the omega.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a bit chilly, innit?”

Niall shrugs, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and seemingly unbothered by the room temperature. Harry doesn’t ask for an explanation though.

“You can have my hoodie, wait, here.” Before Louis can counter, Harry’s pulling the light grey piece of clothing over his head and handing it to the omega.

or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't end.

The Earl and His Duke by @becomeawendybird / QuickedWeen

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 52k, tumblr post]

Lord Tomlinson, the elusive Duke of Leeds, has suddenly emerged in London for the first time in six years. He is believed to have been abroad. He is believed to have been widowed. He is believed to want to withdraw from society.

Harry doesn’t know what is true and what isn’t. He only knows that the older brother of one of his best friends is back in town to stay, and that time has taken him from merely the most beautiful man Harry knew, to the most handsome man to ever walk the earth. A man whose gaze probably still skips over Harry like he doesn’t exist the same way it did when they were young.

waiting on you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 21k, tumblr post]

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

-FIC FESTS-

Wanker’s Day 2021 [multiple pairings, tumblr post]

Summer Drabble Challenge [multiple pairings, tumblr post]

[write-orflight]

Watch Over Me: Chapter One

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: M

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: none for this chapter: innuendo, language

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Steve Rogers learns about the future from a woman stuck in the past.

A.N This is my jazz club reader fic I’ve been talking about writing. This fic isn’t gonna be long but I like it so I hope yall do too. I’m not using my perm taglist because it’s different than my normal content. reply, message, or inbox to be tagged. Devil Has Lilith will be updated Saturday.

Slang used in this chapter:

Dish: An attractive Woman

Butter and egg man: The money man, the man who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs.

Dip the bill: Have a drink.

Corn: Bourbon

Cake-eater: A ladies’ man

Jalopy: An old car.

Drop a dime: Make a phone call

Chapter 1: There's a somebody I'm longin' to see 

“I can’t watch this anymore!” Tony said storming into the compound’s kitchen one night.  Steve looked up from his sketchbook in confusion. “I can’t watch you sit in here another friday night. It’s tragic!” 

“Ugh, not this again, Tony.” Steve says, sighing. Nat and Bucky begin snickering next to him, knowing where the conversation was going. 

“Yes, this again. Cap, I excused it for the first couple of years because you were adjusting to the times but it’s been years! If you’re not on a mission, you don’t go out! Sometimes, when Pep is having trouble sleeping I describe your social life to her, puts her right slee--” 

“Alright, I get it!” Steve cuts him off, slapping Bucky, who was in full hysterics at this point, in the arm. “I know my personal life is--” 

“Non-existent?” Nat provides.   

“Dead?” Tony adds, laughing.  

“But it’s my personal life. I’m over 100 years old. If I looked it, you guys wouldn’t be questioning my staying home.”   

“Exactly, if you looked it, I wouldn’t. But you are not that old yet.” Tony says. “Come on, let’s just all go out once. If you don’t like it, I’ll never make you go out again. I’ll even get you a coloring book or a model ship, or whatever old people do.” 

“Fine.” Steve sighed, as the man next to him cheered. “But nothing like those places you typically go to. They’re too noisy and sweaty and--” 

“Yea I got it, old-timer. We’re not going anywhere like that.” Tony provides. “My friend recently opened a restaurant where their back room is a speakeasy, very accurately themed, you need a password and everything to get in. You’ll fit right in.” 

“Prohibition ended in the 30s.” Bucky says. “Long before Stevie could even drink.” 

“Even still, work with me a little here.” Tony says. 

“Fine.” Steve sighs.  

“Awesome. Now, you’ve got to come in costume to these things so I’ve already taken the liberty of telling my tailor to make you guys something.” 

“What if I had said no?” Steve asks. 

“Oh, Cap. You should know by now I don’t take no as an answer.” 

----------------------------------------------

  Steve shifted uncomfortably in his uniform. It was almost exactly like the one he would wear out during down times in the war though he knew it wasn’t the real one as that one was in the Smithsonian. Still, Tony’s tailor did a good job with seemingly all the costumes. Tony looked almost identical to how Steve remembered Howard back in the day. Bucky was in a uniform that looked similar to his back in the day, Glove covering his metal hand. Natatsha was in a sleek red gown, white gloves and pearls that was more modest than he’d seen her wear but still made her look drop dead gorgeous. 

Tony led them down a dark alley to what seemed to be a back door. Steve looked around confused as they entered the smokey hallway. At the end of the hallway there were two large doors and a lady with pinned up hair and a black shimmery dress, smoking with her feet propped up on the desk she was sitting at. 

“Evening gentlemen.” She croons in an english accent. “And lady. Are you lost?” 

“We have a meeting with Dr. Volstead.” Tony says, confidently. 

The woman tilts her head back giving all of you a once over. “It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” She asks. 

“Yes, it is. But I prefer the rain.” Tony says.  

With that the woman stands and walks over to the large doors and knocks rhythmically 3 times. The doors open to reveal a large dance hall where couples are in full swing, laughing and drinking. A trio of girls crooned a faced paced song as a jazz band was playing behind them. For a moment, Steve did actually forget he was in the 21st century. 

“Enjoy Paradise, my friends.” The woman smiles, before shutting the doors to the outside world. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were in the kitchen, taking a much needed headache break from the facade you had been putting up for your tables all night long when your Co-worker, Dalia, came up to you. 

“Y/N, Y/N! You have to trade tables with me.” 

You looked at her with a suspicious look. “Why?” 

“Come on, It’s a 4-top anyway. I’ll even trade you the party table for it.” That made you even more suspicious. “50 bucks for it, come on.” 

“Don’t trade, Y/N/N!” Your co-worker and friend/roommate, Jade added. “Tony Stark is in your section. I bet she only wants to give you 50 for it because she knows she’ll make 500.” 

“Come on, that’s not even why.” Dalia groans. “Black Widow is also at your table and you know she’s on my ‘Celebrities I have to fuck before I die’ list.” 

“God, are the rest of the avengers here?” You ask. 

“Not all but you know who is here?” Jade asks. “Steve Rogers.” She says, in a mocking singsong tone, jabbing you. Your crush on Captain America wasn’t really a secret anymore after you confessed it drunk one night. “And he looks almost edible.”  

You hum, you didn’t really feel like taking another table but this wasn’t a normal table. You doubt you had a chance but you weren’t passing up on serving Steve Rogers. 

“I’ll make you a deal. I still want that 50 bucks and we share the table, I’ll consider splitting the tip.” You say, the idea of making your rent in a night did appease you. 

“Deal.”

“Now ladies, I have a song to do.” You say, leaving the girls behind in the kitchen. 

—————————————-

Steve, for the first time in a while it seemed, was having fun. Tony was right, he did feel like he fit right in here. He clapped with the crowd, as the three girls bowed and left the stage. The piano man stood up and took the microphone Steve could tell was only styled to look old but actually wasn’t that old. 

“One more time for the Duclaw sisters folks.” The smooth voiced man said into the microphone, inciting another round of applause from the crowd. “Our next performer is actually the last of the night.” That incited a few ‘awws’ of disappointment. “Don’t cry just yet because Old Gary never disappoints, our next performer is my personal favorite. Sings like a Canary and the Cat who caught it.” That induces a laugh from the crowd and a small chuckle from Steve. “And maybe if you’re good she’ll come on for an encore later. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Sultry Sounds of Y/N L/N.” He says, moving from the mic back to the piano as the crowd cheers. Steve watches the stage as arguably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen seems to glide out from the backstage. She’s wearing a floor length silver gown that seemed to glimmer with every step she took. Her hair came down in long fingerwaves, pinned back so you could see the sculpt of her face. Steve would be lying if he said that wasn’t his favorite part of her facade. She had on simple eyeliner, foundation, and a bold red lip he could probably see from mars. You were beautiful, in a timeless sort of way. 

“My, my.” She crooned in an sultry old new york accent that reminded Steve of the women he grew up around. “What would your wife say if she knew I was your favorite, Old Gary?” 

“She’d agree!” The man called from the piano, inducing the chuckle from the crowd. And a deep sultry one from you. 

“Well as they say, two’s just fine but three’s a party.” She winked at the old man in a way that would make Steve weak if he wasn’t already sitting. 

“You ok there, Cap?” Tony said, snapping Steve out of the mystery woman’s trance. “You disappeared for a second.” 

“I’m fine.” Steve said, fighting the flush that threatened to spread over his face. He looks out the side of his eye to Bucky, who was smirking at him knowingly. Of course, he knew. 

“You know, you saying something about being good got me thinking, Old Gary.” She said, as the man softly played behind her. “A good man is hard to find. Great men are great, bad men are good sometimes too.” She winked to the crowd. “But every girl wants a good man, someone to watch over her.” Old Gary seems to take the cue to start playing her song. 

“There's a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we're often told, ‘seek and ye shall find’” She began singing and it made Steve sit up in his seat. She had the kind of voice that was almost beckoning. She was becoming his own personal siren. “So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind”  

“She’s a looker, huh?” The server, who introduced herself as Dalia, said as she sat down Bucky’s drink. “Y/N’s the main dish of this place.” 

“I think I’m more interested in you, doll.” Bucky flirted, shamelessly. 

“And I think I’m more interested in dames, Soldier.” She says, winking to Natasha who smiles coyly at her. Steve hardly pays them any mind as his focus was on you as you finished your song and thanked the crowd and waved while Old Gary helped her off stage. 

------------------------------------------ 

You were changing from your stage outfit into your floor outfit when Dalia burst into the locker room.

“Y/N/N, I actually think I might have a chance with Widow. I mean, she’s kinda been ignoring me the whole night but when I mentioned I was into girls she smiled!” Dalia ranted, excitedly as you nodded. You turned your back to her so she’d get the clue to zip you up which she does. “Also, you should’ve seen the way Steve Rogers was watching you sing. He totally wants to hit that.” That makes you perk up a bit. 

“I doubt it. I have it under good authority that he hasn’t hit anything in over 70 years. I doubt I’m what he’s been waiting for.” You laugh. “Still, it’s fun to think about.” 

Dalia tugs you out of the locker room. “Come on, let's get back out there.” 

You sighed before stepping out of the locker room and seemingly out of this century. 

You fake laughed with a guest at the bar as you grabbed your tray of drinks and made your way over to the table that had been making you nervous all night. You placed the four whiskey rocks drinks on the tables. 

“Courtesy of Dean.” You say, placing the drinks down. Stopping at Tony Stark. “Don’t know why? You seem to be the butter and egg man out tonight. 

“Butter and egg?” He asks, looking to Steve and Bucky. 

“Means money man, High roller.” Bucky explains, Steve nods. 

“Ah, well I am that.” Tony says, laughing. “I must say Miss, what was it? Y/N?” You nod confirming. “I have to say you are quite the performer.” 

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Stark. Go ahead, dip your bill.” You say pointing to the drink, Hoping they’d get the hint. They did of course, after seeing Steve and Bucky take a sip. You watch Steve grimace slightly at the taste of the liquor. 

“Everything alright, fella?” 

You watch Steve flush at the attention being tossed his way. You can’t help the confident smirk that graced your face knowing it was you that had Steve Rogers flustered. “I’m fine, I just don’t enjoy the taste.” 

You hum. “Yea, it’s the big cheese’s favorite drink and he’s known for liking it rough.” You wink, somehow making Steve flush more. That made you want to push it more. “I’ve got some corn in the back they call the Y/N because it feels really good when it’s going down.” That makes Steve choke a little and induces a hearty laugh from the group. “Can I get you a glass, Soldier?”  

“Y-Yea, I’d like that.” Steve flushes. It was almost fun at this point. 

“I’d love to try the real thing.” Bucky says, flirting right back with a smirk you knew has to make every girl in the 40s weak in the knees. You didn’t indulge him though. 

“Well, aren’t you a regular cake-eater.” You smirk. “I’ll be back with two glasses.”  

“I see the serum didn’t enhance your ability to talk to pretty girls.” Bucky laughs as you want away. Steve can’t help but become a little distracted by the sway of your hips. 

The rest of the night seemed to go like that. You bringing them drinks and flirting with the captain anyway you could just to see the pretty flush that spread across his face. But soon the time came for the superheroes to take their leave. As you sat the check in front of Tony, you brushed a hand over the Captain’s shoulder admiring the broadness of them. 

“You’ll come back and see me, Sugar?” You say, phrasing it like a question despite it not really being one. Steve nods, dumbfounded by you. You smile and wink at him before walking away. 

You’re in the kitchen eating the pizza you had ordered earlier when your manager, Dean comes out of his office for the first time that shift. 

“Y/N!” You roll your eyes when you hear him scream your name. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

“I’m eating dinner. Something I could’ve done on my break if I ever got one.” 

“You know you’re not supposed to be eating anything that couldn’t be made in the 30s. People pay for the illusion and if they see you gorging yourself on pizza, it ruins it.” 

“No one’s looking in the fucking kitchen, Dean.” 

“Uh-huh, and another thing. You know what kind of songs you’re supposed to sing.” You roll your eyes harder. You knew this argument was coming. “That song is from the 50s and you knew it.” 

“None of those bullshit hipsters know who Ella fucking Fitzgerald is!” You yell. “Much less what years her fucking songs came out. That song killed and that’s all that fucking matters.” 

“Change your set or you’re fired.” 

That makes you laugh in his face. “Uh-huh, as if you’re going to find a singer who’ll work as cheap as me.” You say, brushing past him. “See you tomorrow.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Steve comes back to the bar the following week. He tells himself that it’s just for a quick drink but he knew the real reason was because he could not stop thinking about you. He also knew you were probably just being friendly because it’s your job to. He just needed you to reject him so he could go on with his life. 

He found himself in that hallway again approaching the woman he had seen last week. 

“Evening, Sir.” She says. “Are you lost?” 

“Umm.. I have a meeting with Mr. Volstead?” Steve questions, not really recalling the password fully. 

The woman hums. “Nice night, no?” She says. 

“I prefer the rain.” 

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry. I typically would let you in because I don’t really care but technically I’m not supposed to let anyone who doesn’t know the password in… even if  they are kinda famous.” She says. “The password changes every week. I’m sure if you ask Mr. Stark, he can find it for you.” 

“Oh, no worries. Sorry for wasting your time.” Steve sighs, turning back out the building. 

He’s approaching where he parked his bike when he hears a string of expletives being screamed followed with a car stuttering before not starting. He looks over to see a woman angrily get out of her car and lift the hood to see it smoking. The woman lets out another stream of expletives before kicking the tire and leaning her head on the roof of the car, defeated. For some reason, he feels compelled to go over and see how he could help. As he got closer he couldn’t believe his luck, it was you. He tapped you lightly on the shoulder and you turned with the beginnings of tears in your eyes. 

“Oh, Soldier!” You said, quickly turning around to wipe your eyes and putting the facade you typically used with customers back up. “I almost got offended when you didn’t come back to see me. Imagine a broad’s old luck.” You said, smiling flirtatiously. Steve didn’t buy that smile for a second. He could see in your eyes you were still upset. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

“Oh, everything’s swell! This old jalopy has seen better days, gonna drop a dime to a friend hopefully--” You cut yourself off, switching into your normal speaking voice. “Listen, I’m sorry I just can’t keep talking like this off the clock. I’ll drive myself insane. Please, don’t tell my boss. I’m already on thin ice for not ‘maintaining the illusion’.” 

Steve laughs, a weight suddenly feeling lifted off his shoulders. Suddenly you weren’t this mysterious woman who seemed to have all the right things to say and how to say them. You were human, just like him. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He says. 

“Good.”  You say, smiling briefly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve gotta call Triple A for a tow.” You say, pulling your cell phone out. Steve had to admit it looked a little weird to see you with a cellphone in your olden days attire. 

“How will you get home?” He asks. 

“I’ll probably hoof it.” You shrug. “Or take the subway.” 

“At night?!” Steve says, incredulously. “No, I can take you if you’d like.” 

You look at him, hopefully. “I don’t want to be a burden.” You say. 

“You won’t be one.” He smiles. God, that smile made you feel a little weak. 

“Okay.” You smile back. 

“Are you hungry by chance?” He asks, as the two of you walk back to his ride. “I was going to eat in the bar but I couldn’t remember the password.” He says, sheepishly. 

That makes you laugh out loud. “Those passwords are such bullshit, Dean keeps changing them to keep it ‘exclusive’ but they always end up online anyway.” You say. “Every server has their own password, to keep track of regulars coming in. If you tell them you have a rose delivery for Mae, They’ll take you to my table no questions.” 

“Mae?” Steve asks. 

“For Mae West.” You explain, That makes Steve laugh again, of course you liked Mae West. “I could eat though. There’s actually a diner right down the road from here.” 

“Perfect.” He says, straddling onto his bike. He raises an eyebrow at you when you hesitate. “Something wrong?” 

“I’ve never ridden on a bike before is all.” 

“As long as you hold on to me, you’ll be fine.” He says, smirking when he sees a flush creep over your face as he hands you his helmet. It was about time for you to be flustered by your interactions. 

“I have no problems with that.” You say, placing that helmet on your head after you straddle the bike behind him. Your hands are tight around his waist as the two of you ride out of the lot, leaving Paradise behind. 

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink

[toweroftickles]

DISTRACTIONS (Frozen Tickle Fic)

Requested by @sapphicsierramist !

Work, work, work; nothing but work.

That’s all Elsa did.

She sat in her study at the polished oaken desk, writing with her long brown quill. Every day was like the other. Early morning sun from the massive wall-sized window stroked the right side of her face. The queen of Arendelle had barely woken up for the day...her braid was loosely tied, her periwinkle nightgown fluttering around her bare ankles...and she was already scribbling her way through mountains of royal decrees. Next to her, antsy as ever, sat her sister.

Anna’s cheek rested in her left palm and her face settled into a dull, emotionless stare. But Elsa didn’t even seem to notice.

“And therefore as we the people of...no, the community...of Arendelle......must....convene....” Elsa muttered under her breath, barely audible. Like all tiny repetitive noises, her whispers danced around in Anna’s eardrums until they seemed loud enough to shatter boulders.

“You still talk out loud when you write?” Anna blurted.

Elsa’s concentration broke, and she frowned.

“It helps me organize my thoughts,” Elsa snapped defensively. “....I don’t HAVE to.” She returned to writing, a bit more self-consciously.

Anna rolled her eyes and rocked in her seat. She tapped her fingers against the desk, and against the unsigned property treaties in front of her. She played with her tied-up hair, twirled her own feather pen in between her fingers, and even picked her nose once or twice. But nothing relieved the boredom.

“UUUUGGGGHHH; come on, Elsa. If I have to read one more of these things my eyes are going to pop out. Let’s play a board game.”

Once again the snow queen snapped out of her work-induced trance.

“Anna, please, we have a lot of these to go over! We can goof around later, but this is important,” Elsa sighed frustratedly.

Anna was downcast. Since their reunion, she had hoped that Elsa would loosen up and have fun again. But all their time was occupied by the endless tedium of governance and paperwork. She’d simply traded Elsa’s locked bedroom for another, less-physical one.

Her tongue involuntarily clicked to the rhythm of the nearby wall clock...something which visibly began to annoy Elsa. The queen kept pausing and stumbling over her words when Anna clicked.

“And...this celebration of....rrrrg...this celeb shall be...ugh....a highly...a highly...gah!....A celebration of a highly relished fart! ....ART!”

Anna burst into giggles. Elsa blushed.

“Please stop doing that,” she moaned.

“Oh, cheer up! Being a queen is supposed to be fun.”

“Anna, I want to have fun with you but we’ve both been given so many responsibilities! Can’t you grow up a little?”

Elsa returned to her work. Anna pouted and wiggled her feather on the end Elsa’s nose.

“Gah, stop it! You have work of your own to do!”

Frustrated, Anna stood up and stepped away. All she wanted was to make her sis smile. Then she looked down.

Beneath Elsa’s chair, her bare feet rested on their toes and swayed back and forth over one another. They squirmed and wiggled as the busy queen tensed up. As Anna glanced at the long, thin feather in her hand, a big grin stretched across her face.

Without making a sound, Anna flattened herself against the crimson carpet and crawled forward on her belly until she was just behind her sister’s chair. She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. It had to be a surprise attack. The tip of the feather wiggled in the air as she reached forward, until finally, it made contact with the arch of Elsa’s foot.

Elsa gasped. Something felt funny. But she shook it off and kept writing.

No real response.

Anna wiggled the feather again. Harder this time.

“G-HAH!” A sudden laugh burst out of Elsa. She looked horrified. “Anna, what are you doing?!”

“Heheh-Heh; you can’t get away now!” Anna giggled and grabbed Elsa’s right ankle. The queen’s pale skin always felt so cold to the touch.

“Anna, please don’t. Leave me alone,” Elsa stammered.

“Ok...I won’t leave you alone!” Anna immediately began to stroke her sister’s sole with the feather.

Elsa’s whole body twitched. But she couldn’t let Anna get to her. Maintain composure, she told herself. If she could just focus on her documents, she was sure she could ignore the tickling.

“Hooooo...At this next juncture in our history, we as countryhee...we m-hust...mmm...we mhuhust....!” Elsa jumped in her chair and covered her mouth. The feather caressed her heel, her arch, her toes...it tickled so bad. Having been locked in a room for so many years, with so little contact and such little outdoor life, Elsa’s skin was smooth, unscarred, uncalloused, inexperienced...highly sensitive to touch. She couldn’t pry her ankle from Anna’s grip.

Keep writing. Keep writing!

“Wheee must join together and remain f-hirm in our values. As a country uhundergoing a sh-hift in regiheehime...!”

Elsa buried her face in her hands and bit her lip, desperately trying to contain the helpless giggles bubbling up in her tummy.

“Come oooonnn; I know you’re ticklish right heee-errrrrrre...” Anna teased in a gratingly sing-songy voice. The tip of the feather danced around on Elsa’s bare foot, stroking the tender spot just below her toes. It was all the Snow Queen could handle.

She struggled. She fought valiantly. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! *gasp*Ah Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha! Ahanna! Ahanna, stop!”

The drawback to such a husky, melodious voice...in Elsa’s mind...was how well it carried. When she laughed, she was sure the entire palace could hear her, and this notion embarrassed her to no end. She blushed.

“Heheh! Cootchie cootchie cootchie cootchie cooo!” Anna giggled excitedly.

“L-hee...leave my feet alone, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!” By this point Elsa was doubled over against her desk, her ticklish toes desperate to escape. Her feet wiggled and kicked, but her right ankle was held still by Anna’s iron grip, and that feather was relentless. “Aha-Haha Ha-Ha Ha! I c-han’t...I can’t!”

Suddenly the tickling stopped.

Elsa gasped for air, still overcome by giggles. She fanned herself with her hand and tried to catch her breath. But in doing so, she didn’t notice Anna standing up behind her.

“You still feel like goofing off later?” Anna giggled. Snapping like a crab, Anna pressed her fingertips into Elsa’s sides and wiggled them furiously.

“Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha! Heehee! Cut it ou-hout! STOP!”

A wave of snow and icy air exploded out of the queen’s quivering frame, and without warning, Anna was thrown back 15 feet onto the floor.

But far from being hurt, Anna could only laugh hysterically. It had been so long, over a decade, since their last tickle fight. For all the changes, it was nice to know that she could still make her big sis lose control.

Suddenly Elsa’s head snapped around, and her eyes glinted with burning ice. Her scowl could have melted Marshmallow. Her breathing was heavy, labored, like an angry bull. It slowed. Anna’s playful demeanor vanished as she retreated into herself, overcome by visions of what punishment awaited her. She backed up on her hands, prepared to run from some expression of icy wrath.

But to her surprise, Elsa’s frown became a wicked smirk.

“So that’s how you want to play, huh?” From behind her, Elsa’s right hand emerged to reveal its own long quill, which she wiggled menacingly in the air.

Anna panicked.

“Wait...no....nonononono; NO....”

But it was too late. Elsa had already dived on her sister and pinned her to the floor, and her sharp fingernails dug their way into Anna’s tummy.

“AHH!! Heehee-Heehee Haha-Haha Ha! No fair! No fahair!”

“No fair? Oh, it’s not funny anymore, is it?” Elsa giggled.

“Heehee-HEE! Heheh, Heh; Haha-Haha Ha! Ah! Ok-hay, ok, I’m sorry!”

“Sooo, is this still your weak spot?” Elsa poked the sharp stem of her quill just to the side of Anna’s belly button.

“GAAAHHH, Haha-Ha! *gasp* Whoa-hoho; not there not there not there! *squeak* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!”

“Hmm....ok! Let’s try something else.” With that threat, Elsa spun around, still sitting on her sister’s knees, and pulled off Anna’s green slippers.

“Wait wait...I lied! Go back to my belly!” Anna giggled. Despite her protests, she was having fun.

With one hand, Elsa began to viciously tickle Anna’s soles with her fingers. With the other hand, Elsa sawed the feather quill back and forth between her toes.

“AAHH! *squeak* HA-HA HA-HA! *gasp*Heehee-Haha Haha! St-hop, stop!”

“Cootchie cootchie coo!”

As the sisters laughed and wrestled, they were interrupted by an unexpected guest...a knock at the door.

“Your highnesses?” It was the voice of a soldier.

They froze perfectly still, and didn’t even need Elsa’s magic to do it. In a flurry of panic, the princess sisters straightened their hair, pressed wrinkles out of their gowns, slipped on shoes. Anna spit on her index finger and even made a half-hearted attempt to brush her teeth with it. Elsa pretended not to notice. 20 seconds had passed, and the door creaked opened.

“Um, yes?” Elsa said in as official a tone as she could muster.

The guard before her coughed awkwardly.

“The, um, the visiting royal family of Corona has arrived early. They’ll be at the castle within 5 minutes.”

“Oh! Ok, uh, well, show them in and give them a tour, and we’ll be down to entertain them in a few minutes.”

“Yes, your highness.”

The door shut with a loud click. Elsa looked back at her sister.

“Alright, enough horsing around. Get going so I can get dressed,” she laughed. Anna eagerly skipped toward the door.

“So I won, right? I totally won.” Her freckled smile could have lit up the room all on its own.

“Oh, get out,” Elsa replied, opening the door.

Instead of obeying, Anna simply stood there and gawked. Both sisters were visibly trying not to giggle, each wondering if the other would slip up first.

Anna didn’t wait for fate to decide. She jabbed her finger into Elsa’s tummy and then ran out the door like a shot.

“AH! Heheh!” Elsa yelped and reflexively bent over. By the time she steadied herself, Anna was already halfway down the hall.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” Elsa chased after her sister, both of them laughing like little girls, the halls echoing with their reminiscing and their joy.

And so the day marched on.

These two are so cute though 😆

[tdc-giftexchange-2021]

Winter on Fennbirn was usually a time for celebration. 

For three sisters, however, it marked being another year older. Another year closer to their sweet sixteen, a reminder that they were running out of time. 

The first birthday that usually would've marked the end of the Ascension year was a strange one. 

Katharine was stood in the Volroy, buried in one of the supply cupboards, ignoring the world. 

Outside, the whole island celebrated.

There were those less inclined, of course. Bitter people stuck in their ways, hellbent on bloodshed, eager to watch another generation of triplets kill each other. 

But for now, people were just glad that their individual queens had survived. 

Katharine didn't want to be among any of them. Not even her sisters. 

Instead, she focused on her new job as the island's chief healer. 

She rummaged around with pale hands, slender fingers stretched out like cobwebs. 

There had been an outbreak of a type of pox that the mainlanders had brought over. There was a mild cousin to the strain that Fennbirn had already experienced. 

But until the pox was fully contained and treatable, mainlanders were now forbidden from travelling to Fennbirn unless extensive checks had been done to ensure that they were safe. 

Katharine was working to create a tonic to solve the issue. It was taking up all of her time, day and night. She often tested on herself or Arsinoe, both of them sure that they could withstand the consequences. 

"Queen Katharine." Katharine paused. 

Emilia. 

A constant thorn in Katharine's side, always finding the weak spots in her corsets and jabbing through the material to bother her. 

She was very protective of Julienne Milone, Katharine knew. 

It was only through mutual connections that Katharine held her tongue on how much she distrusted the war gifted girl. 

"Emilia," Katharine said instead, retracting her hand, a jar of sweet-smelling herbs following it. She turned to face Emilia. "What brings you to my part of the Volroy? I thought you preferred the higher floors?"

"I do," Emilia responded. "I was told I could find you here."

"If this is a medical matter, I'm afraid I'm quite busy handling this pox outbreak. Perhaps you should talk to one of my apprentices. They are more than capable. Only the best from Indrid Down and Prynn have the privilege of working in the Volroy."

"This is not a medical matter," Emilia said. "This is ... personal." 

Katharine put the jar into her small satchel. She'd intended to go back to her private workspace to work alone, as she often did. This was taking up valuable time. 

"Personal?" 

"The Ascension is now over," Emilia said. "Officially."

"Yes, I'm aware. I was rather hoping to avoid the topic." Katharine sighed. 

"Since Jules has taken the stance of allowing all three of you rule alongside her, I've decided that despite my distrust ... I would make an effort to get along with all of you." 

"Have you had this conversation with my sisters?" Katharine asked. "Or is this a conversation reserved only for the one you hate?"

"I don't hate you," Emilia said. "Not anymore. I did, but I am trying to see what others see in you. Since the business with the dead queens, I have seen a better side of you. The one from the stories your sisters tell. And I shall be talking to Arsinoe and Mirabella as well. It's important to Jules that I make an effort. She loves Arsinoe, and has grown fond of you and Mirabella." 

"So you're doing this for Julienne?" Katharine pried.

"Mostly," Emilia said. "We must begin with honesty if we're to get anywhere, Katharine."

"I shall also put aside any distrust I have in you too. Arsinoe respects you, for Julienne's sake. And so I will learn to, as well." Katharine said slowly. "It may take a while for things to be any more than frosty between us, but I assure you that I am also trying." 

Emilia nodded in understanding. "Why are you not celebrating your birthday?"

"The pox." Katharine prompted, gesturing to the storecupboard around her. "It's got to be solved by someone." 

"Surely you can take one day off."

"I don't like the crowds." 

"But you like your sisters."

"I love my sisters." Katharine corrected. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to show my face today. I will surely ruin everyone's mood. Things are too fresh. Perhaps next year."

"No Fennbrin triplets have all reached seventeen together," Emilia said. "I know Arsinoe and Mirabella would be happy to see you. To see them happy is to see Jules happy. Which in turn pleases me. This could be the start of defrosting a friendship between us." 

Katharine looked at her satchel, still open and only half full with the items she'd come to collect.

"For an hour or two, only." She said eventually. "Then I must come back. The best poisoners from Prynn and Indrid Down may be working here, but they still act like headless chickens without my guidance. Natalia would have a fit if she knew things were in this state." 

Emilia smiled. "Come along then." 

Katharine closed her satchel and strung it over her shoulder so that the strap crossed her chest and the leather bag rested against her hip. 

She followed Emilia out of the Volroy and into the streets, wincing at the noise. 

Ahead, her sisters were dancing to the music played by oracles. Even Arsinoe had sat still long enough for Jules to weave flowers through the braids that Mirabella had most definitely done. 

They saw her immediately, sensing her presence as they had done as children. All three were once again so perfectly in tune with her sisters, it was as if they were one soul in three bodies. 

Emilia gently grasped Katharine by the wrist, as if she knew Katharine's bony arms bruised easily, leading her straight to her sisters so that the celebrations could truly begin. 

And despite the pox that Katharine had focused on so heavily these last few weeks preying on her mind, the smiles on the faces of those she held dear was more precious than any tonic she'd ever made. 

Three queens, different in nature but alike in their love for each other, solidified their names in history. 

On Fennbirn, things were beginning to heal, starting on the day their queens turned seventeen. 

Submitted by @realismreading for @poisonerrose

[accio-draco]

twist of fate | eight

in which y/n is in the same situation as draco

Summary: Like Draco, Y/N is forced to become a young Death-Eater and the Dark Lord gives her a job to do. Sixth year, slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers.

Word count: 1k

Warning: use of force and non-consensual things (not of a sexual nature)

Midnight.

Y/N slipped out of bed, dressed still in her school uniform, and crept out of her dormitory. Padding down the dark corridor, she remembered the way to the Room of Requirement from her Common Room.

She waited outside the Room of Requirement where they had agreed to meet. Draco wasn't here yet, so Y/N assumed she was early. Minutes passed, but he still didn't show. If only she had a watch.

"Y/L/N." Snape's voice broke the silence.

Y/N jumped. Snape had seemed to come out of nowhere, scaring her. Oh shit, she thought, I'm in trouble now.

"I believe you are waiting for Mr Malfoy, no?" Y/N nodded. "He's already gone."

"Gone?" Y/N repeated, her voice urgent. "Gone where?"

"Malfoy Manor. We've been summoned for a meeting." Snape explained. "Come with me."

-

Y/N and Snape arrived at the Manor. When they entered the drawing-room, it already had occupants. Draco, like Snape had said, Draco's mother and father, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Y/N's father and of course, Voldemort himself.

"Ah, Y/N." Voldemort greeted. "Thank you for joining us. Take a seat."

It wasn't an offer, it was an order. Y/N's heart pounded as she took a seat in a chair pressed up against the wall. On either side of her stood her father and Greyback, as though on guard.

Across the room stood Draco, beside his parents. He looked equally as terrified as Y/N, but only for a split second, after which he looked ahead stoically, avoiding Y/N's gaze.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Voldemort said. No one dared to say anything. "We're all here to check on young Draco and Y/N. To make sure they are getting on with their respective tasks."

Voldemort moved towards Draco. Y/N saw Draco's mother squeeze his hand in reassurance. Draco bowed his head in respect to the Dark Lord.

"Draco," Voldemort leered. "How have you been finding your task?"

Draco kept his eyes averted, staring at the floor instead. "Challenging, my Lord. I've been working to repair a Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. It's difficult, but every day I make progress."

"And how does this Cabinet help with your task?"

Draco swallowed. "It has a sister, at Borgin and Burkes. It means, once I've fixed it, you can enter Hogwarts without apparating."

Bellatrix gasped and laughed menacingly. Draco's father, Lucius, looked proud of his son for once. Voldemort looked pleased. He nodded, moving away from Draco.

"Y/N," said the Dark Lord, turning to look at her. "I trust he is telling the truth."

Y/N nodded. Then her father jabbed her with his elbow, prompting her to speak up. "Yes, my Lord." She replied.

"Tell me, Y/N, does Draco know of your task?"

Y/N's shoulders tensed. Something wasn't quite right. "Yes." She admitted, knowing the consequences if she lied.

"And, do you know of Draco's?"

"No, my Lord."

This answer did not seem to please the Dark Lord. He thought she was lying. A looked to Fenrir Greyback.

A large pair of hands grabbed Y/N's shoulders, pulling her up. She flinched at the shock and the dull pain from Greyback's claws grazing her skin. Y/N willed herself to not show her fear or look to Draco for help. He wouldn't help her here.

"Severus," Voldemort commanded. "The Veritiserum."

Snape pulled a vial of Veritaserum out of his robes, placing it in Voldemort's outstretched hand. Y/N's father took the vial, unstoppered it and forced the liquid down Y/N's throat while Greyback restrained her.

Y/N's heart pounded and she could barely keep her breathing under control. She had known something wasn't right, but she didn't know what.

"I hope you don't mind, Y/N," Voldemort sneered. "I just want to ask you a few questions."

Y/N knew she couldn't lie, so she kept her mouth shut. She had no choice but to answer the questions.

"Would you say you and Draco are friends?" Voldemort asked.

The less Y/N said, the better. "Yes, my Lord."

"Perhaps more than friends?" Voldemort persisted.

"Getting involved in teenager's love lives, are we?"

Y/N was struck across the face. The sound of her slap echoed through the drawing-room. She'd been hit enough times to know exactly who hit her. The only person whose ever hit her was her father.

"Don't you dare talk back to the Dark Lord!" Her father bellowed.

Y/N's cheek stung, filling her eyes with tears that she fought to keep down.

"Volkan," Voldemort warned. "I'll make this quick, shall I? Have you and Draco talked about running away together?"

At the mention of his name, Draco looked up from the floor for the first time since Y/N had arrived. Y/N had no idea how Voldemort knew this. But Draco did.

"Yes," Y/N said.

"Is that so?" asked Voldemort.

Lucius glowered at Y/N. It was clear to him that she was tainting his precious son. Y/N ignored his glare.

"We talked about running away from Hogwarts. To join you permanently, my Lord." Y/N blurted. "We are afraid that after we have completed the task, we will no longer be of use to you and therefore left behind."

Voldemort stepped towards Y/N. "My dear Y/N, we would never leave you behind. Did we not welcome you with open arms when you joined us this summer?"

"Of course, my Lord. But we worry that. because we're just children, we aren't of as much use to you as others."

"I can assure you, that is not the case. But you will not be running from Hogwarts. That is the only place where you are more powerful than I."

Snape stepped forward. "My Lord, if you are finished, may I return to Hogwarts with Malfoy and Y/L/N before someone notices they are missing?"

The Dark Lord signalled to Greyback to release Y/N. "Very well, Severus. Draco, keep us updated on your progress with the Cabinet."

With her face throbbing and her shoulders aching, Y/N obediently bowed before the Dark Lord and followed behind Snape who was leading the way back to Hogwarts.

TAGLIST:

@detroitobsessed​ @justcallmesams​ @pointlesscoconut​ @dollyclawzz @tedpicklez​ @alluringshawn​ @the-ravenswritingdesk​ @milaonthemoon​ @koc-help​ @bbeauttyybbx​ @cutie1365​ @justmimithings​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @thescentifollow​

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (IVAR THE BONELESS)

Sound of war

Synopsis: Vanya comes to a realisation and challages Lagertha (again), while the Ragnarssons make plan for revenge. 

Warnings: theorizing, poisons, badass Vanya, mentions of violence

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @buckysjuicyplums @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff  @xvxcarolinexvx @justbecausewecan @lovemesomevesey

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

"I love your father with all my heart, Aros," Vanya whispered to the young Ivarsson in her arms. The toddler giggled at her tired tone and drolled over his fist. "But he can be tiring at times."

Aros giggled once more as his mother marched away from the hut where Sigurd and Ivar were fighting once again. The Ragnarssons were getting stir crazy, and if they don't stop, she might just go grey. What a joke that would be? Grey before twenty.

"I could hit them over the head. Knock them out and enjoy the quiet." Hoenir's gruff voice spoke from behind her as he grumpily glared at the ground. The princes fights keep interrupting him in his much-needed naps to gain back strength.

Vanya snorted and looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't tempt me, Hoenir." The tall Seer chuckled at her halfhearted response.

The plan for today was pretty easy. Gather resources and give them to the people. "Lagertha might see as a threat."

"She sees threats everywhere. I am helping hard-working people in a way that I am more skilled in. I never held a shovel."

"What do you royals do the whole day?"

Vanya smirked and looked at him innocently. "Drink and gossip, of course. Sometimes people get poisoned at dinner."

Hoenir shook his head and looked down at the smaller female. It was cowardly to hide behind poison, especially for a man. Poisons and herbs were woman's work. Speaking of... "Do you know how to poison someone?"

The ginger shook her head and fixed her hold on the giggling toddler. "I would never. It's not a pretty sight to see. I was taught how to do it, but..."

She let the words hang in the air. Not every poison was messy; some were more subtle and untraceable. Sometimes it looked like the person died in their sleep. Like Osmond did... Vanya froze in her step at the realization.

Osmond died after suffering for a long time. Some poisons can have the same effect... But who would do that? Mother? Silas? No, he wouldn't stoop so low. Waiting was more of his thing; without Stithulf, he wouldn't have even gone against Vanya.

But Siflæd was a cunning and ambitious woman. And the years she spent neglected by Osmond made her bolder. After he died, she was allowed to be somewhat happy. In the end, she got everything she wanted from his death. Expect a good new king. Instead, she got Silas.

But would she go that far and poison her own husband? After all, Siflead was schooled in poisons just like Vanya was...

"Are you alright?" Hoenir asked once again, shaking Vanya from her spiral.

She shook her head and smiled at the Seer. "Yeah... I just got lost in my thoughts. Let's got find Brynja and the thralls. We've got work to do."

Vanya walked among the people digging trenches, distributing food from a wooden basket. Hoenir and Brynja walked behind her, the older redhead holding Aros in her arms. Her red curls made him squeal in delight as he tugged at them, to Brynja's great displeasure.

"Here, have some bread." She smiled at the villager who took the loaf with a smile and split it with the woman digging next to him. She was pregnant and looked exhausted. "Hallr!"

The male thrall walked up next to her, ready to do as she asked. "Dig in the woman's place or a while. She looks like she is in desperate need of a break.

"No, Princess!"

"Nonsense! You are pregnant. The baby will thank you." She smiled and watched the man help her sit down to regain some strength, Hallr digging in her place.

Vanya continued, that's till she saw Ubbe in front of her. He was talking to Lagertha. The redhead carried on handing out bread and water till she reached the new Queen that watched Ubbe with hard eyes. Astrid and Torvi stiffened when they saw Hoenir approach behind her.

"Vanya." Lagertha smiled, making the girl's skin crawl. The fake niceness made her wary of the shieldmaiden.

"Bread and water to help you all in your efforts to protect Kattegat." Vanya ignored the greeting and handed her the bread.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Vanya. No wonder I only heard good things about you. It was hard to believe when we got off on the wrong foot."

Vanya laughed the jab off and shook her head, the smile on her lips fake and bittersweet. "I heard great things about you once upon a time too. No matter what kind of person you are, this is a good idea. The walls, I mean."

Lagertha smiled proudly, her back straightening at the praise. "It is nice, we agree. I wish we could better our relationship. If you need help with your son." Her blue eyes trailed to the happy toddler in the back. "I would be happy to give you advice."

Vanya smiled broadly at the Queen, putting her at ease for a moment or two. "I can assure you I learned a lot from Aslaug." The smile turned sour as she glared at Lagertha. "Before you murdered her in cold blood."

Vanya turned on her heel and slammed the wooden basket against Ubbe's chest. "I suppose you are done with her too. Come." She marched off, leaving the three shieldmaidens behind. Torvi tried to stop her and frowned.

"Vanya, please."

The princess shook her head and motioned towards Hoenir, who already had his sword ready. "I hope Asa and Hali are alright and healthy." With that, she marched off.

After a nice relaxing bath, Vanya planned to visit Ivar in the forge and spend some time with him while Aros slept. Hoenir, of course, followed her around like a tall, brooding shadow.

One would think that Vanya would have gotten used to the brother's bickering and fights over the year of marriage. What wishful thinking that was.  

Ivar glared at Sigurd; his axe stopped mid hack by the blacksmith. "What in Odin's name are you two doing?!" She hissed, drawing the axe from her husband's hands.

"Talking," Ivar replied coldly, watching his wife frown at him in dissapointment. And here, she thought she would be the only one to commit fratricide. At this rate, there would be only four Ragnarssons.

"Whoever would have thought that you two were brothers?" The blacksmith's words snapped the brothers from their trance. Sigurd marched off while Ivar sat there brooding and sulking at the same time.

Vanya sighed at their antics and turned on her heel to follow the angry Sigurd. "I do not need a scolding, Vanya! Control your husband."

The redhead huffed and tugged on Sigurd's wrist. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown as she glared him down. "I shall put a leash on the both of you! Why can't you just get along for once? Especially now. I know you care for him."

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes and huffed in his dramatic way. Hoenir stayed behind with Ivar, figuring that Vanya would return when she was finished with Sigurd.

The taller male looked down at Vanya and saw the axe still in her hand. With a tired sigh, he reached towards the weapon to take it away from her. But Vanya pulled her hand back and huffed in frustration.

"Tell me." She insisted.

"I tried to be civil. But Ivar wouldn't take no for an answer. So I lashed out." Gods, why must men be so feral? Why can't they just give each other the cold shoulder and be done with it?

"What did he say?"

"Shouldn't you be more interested in what I said? Protecting your husband's honor and all? You have been doing that a lot lately. Playing guard dog doesn't suit you, Sister."

Vanya rolled her eyes at his harsh remark. "Ivar's honor doesn't need protecting. He is capable of doing that himself, obviously. What I want to do is defuse the situation before we have to bury you too."

"It was about Mother." Aaah. Well, that explains it. "He doesn't like that don't mourn her. She ignored all of us. She raised Ubbe and Hvitserk just fine, giving them happy childhoods. All I had was a year with her and Father. And then Ivar came along. And that cripple was all she cared about. Ubbe raised me more than she did."

Vanya's eyes softened, and she released her grip on his wrist. "I get why you are angry. And why revenge doesn't interest you-"

"Why should it?! Father abandoned us all. The people and his family. All Mother had was the memory of Harbard, duties, alcohol, and Ivar. I don't see the need to avenge either of them. You and Ivar both see her as some perfect image. Even Ubbe thinks her a mediocre mother. I am the only one not blinded by lies!"

He seethed, the snake eye looking like it was pulsating. The redhead watched him with sad eyes. "Just because I loved Aslaug as a mother doesn't mean that I don't get what you are feeling."

Their eyes met, and Sigurd shook his head, a confused look on his face. "You mourn her. You want revenge for her."

"For Aslaug, yes. Because she was nice to me. But if it were my mother..." She let the words hang in the air, Sigurd understanding what she wanted to say. "But this isn't just about revenge or parents. I worry for you."

"I am fine."

Vanya scoffed and pointed the axe at him. "Because the blacksmith stopped the axe from slicing your throat! What if he wasn't there? You two fight like dogs, and how long before one of you dies, and we have to bury another family member?"

"Stop worrying, Vanya."

"NO!" The musician stared at her wide-eyed. "You, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar and Aros are all I have. You are my family, and I don't know what I would do without any of you. Especially you."

He swallowed and tried to calm her down. "Vanya..."

"We may butt heads because of Ivar. But I care for you. You have a gentle soul."

"Vikings don't have souls."

"A gentle heart then! And a brilliant mind! What a waste it would be if you died so young. Only because you keep egging him on. I can try to keep him calm, but I won't be there all the time. And I worry that one day I will get the news that one of you died."

Sigurd sighed and pulled his sister-in-law into a hug. "I will try. But I make no promises." She chuckled at his humor and sent him off.

When she returned to their hut, Ivar was sitting on the bed, sulking. Vanya sighed and sat down next to him, but he refused to acknowledge her. She understood his jealousy, but it was unnecessary.

She loved Ivar, not Sigurd, and Aros was the proof of that. Never before was Ivar bothered by her relationship with his older brother. After all, since the wedding, they were her brothers as well. She saw them as nothing more, and yet, Ivar decided to act out now and ignore her.

Was it the fact that she ran after Sigurd, or that she looked disappointed before she did it? What was she supposed to do? Look proud that he nearly murdered his brother? After all the times she stood up to the snake-eyed Viking, Ivar had the nerve to get jealous! The insecurities were there before, but normally it led to talks, not to brooding.

Some reasons were the fact that Sigurd liked to mock his ability to walk or his temper. Another reason was the fact that Sigurd was originally supposed to be her husband. If it wasn't for Ivar's disability, that is. Silas saw potential in Sigurd's eye being seen as a symbol of the devil. And any child born with that eye would be a devil spawn and rejected to the crown. But Ivar's condition was a better choice, and so Silas chose him.

As if Vanya had no choice in staying with Ivar. She could have divorced him and married Sigurd instead. But Vanya didn't love Sigurd. Instead, she chose Ivar despite all his faults. They were lovable to her, but at times like these, she questioned her patience.

"You have no reason to be angry with me."

"I am not angry." Right, and the cold shoulder and pout were a sign of utter adoration and attention.

Vanya rolled her eyes and laid Aros down in his bed. "I am not angry either. A little bit disappointed but not shocked. I expected it, but I still hate that it nearly happened."

Ivar sighed and turned to watch her bent over their son's crib. "Sigurd brings out the worst in me."

"I can see that. But you could try to restrain yourself from time to time. He is your brother, and he isn't Silas. Your feud with him is different from mine with Silas. That doesn't make it less important, but you shouldn't let yourself be controlled by anger. There are consequences for murdering someone!"

"Yes, banishment. I know."

"And guilt. You two can claim that you hate each other, but I see the love there. I see that some parts of you worry for each other. Don't throw that away just because you both act like children."

She stood up and walked towards him. Sitting down in his lap, Vanya smiled at him softly. "If not for yourself, then do it for me and my gentle heart."

"There is nothing fragile or gentle about you, Min dyrebare (My precious). You have a kind heart, but you also have a strong spirit." Vanya smiled so brightly like the sun that it made Ivar freeze. Never was her smile so happy and breathtaking.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Ivar." She teased, swaying her hips over his lap. Well, so much to that. Flipping them both over, Ivar got to kissing a trail down her neck. The fire in the fireplace cracked soundly as the room filled with noises of pleasure.

Vanya laid under Ivar, panting as she watched his dark blue eyes stare down at her with the usual shine to it. His eyes were always her favorite part of him, so deep, mysterious, and powerful. The sweat on her skin felt uncomfortable, but his sweet sounds and gentle touches put her at her ease.

The gods gave her many challenges in her path, Ivar being one of them. But if he wasn't her favorite challenge. "Faster!"

[razieltwelve]

Tag (Final Rose)

“Hahahaha!” Ruby cackled maniacally as she jabbed one finger at her teammates. “You have no hope of defeating me, for I am Ruby... Queen of Tag Town!”

Weiss looked at Yang. “You’re her sister. Has she always been this demented?”

Yang’s lips twitched. “You should see her after she overdoses on sugar. She once claimed to be the Queen of Cookie Town and then demanded that we go out and actually build Cookie Town, so it wouldn’t just be a metaphor for her cookie addiction.”

“I can hear you.” Ruby folded her arms across her chest. “But I will allow you tag peasants to continue talking since there’s nothing you can do to catch me.”

There was a blur of motion, and Blake burst out of the foliage beside Ruby. The Faunus’s hand was a hair’s breadth from touching Ruby’s shoulder when the younger girl all but vanished, moving so swiftly that she was less a blur and more a streak of red. She reappeared on the ground not far from Weiss and Yang.

“Not bad,” Ruby said, nodding sagely and stroking her chin. “But alas, Blake, you’re no match for my awesome speediness.”

Blake sighed and gestured at Weiss and Yang. “You two could help, you know.”

“We could.” Yang chuckled. “But I figure that the moment we try we - surprise Weiss Attack!”

Weiss had no time to react as Yang grabbed her and simply threw her at Ruby. The leader of Team RWBY stared at the oncoming Weiss projectile and then ducked, letting Weiss soar overhead. It was only thanks to the heiress’s reflexes that she managed to twist to brace her feet against a tree trunk instead of hitting it face first.

“Yang!” Weiss snarled. “How dare you! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Relax, princess.” Yang smirked. “I didn’t throw you that hard. Your Aura totally would have protected you. Besides, I figured that Ruby would try to catch you.” She winked at Ruby. “I could see you thinking about it before ducking.”

“I’ll admit,” Ruby countered. “You almost had me.” She struck a pose. “But for the sake of winning tag, I’m afraid that I must harden my heart.” She turned to Weiss. “Sorry, Weiss, but if Yang throws you at me again, I’m going to have to dodge. Try not to die.”

“Wow,” Weiss drawled. “I just love this team’s approach to teamwork.”

“Technically,” Blake pointed out. “Yang throwing you at Ruby does count as teamwork.” She considered Gambol Shroud thoughtfully. “Yang, rather than throwing Weiss, how about we set up a Weiss-throwing slingshot using Gambol Shroud. If she uses her Glyphs to boost it, we might even be able to fling her at Ruby fast enough to tag her.”

“Cool... but what if Ruby dodges and Weiss hits the ground or something?”

Blake shrugged. “I’m prepared to accept the consequences of that.”

“Well, I’m not!” Weiss hissed. “Come up with a better plan that doesn’t involve using me as a projectile!”

“Spoilsport.” Yang cracked her knuckles. “Fine. Blake, spam clones. Enough of you might be able to swarm Ruby. Weiss, spam Glyphs. Focus on Glyphs that create slow zones or heavy zones. We don’t have to stop Ruby, just slow her down enough for us to catch her.”

“And what will you be doing during all of this?” Weiss asked.

“I’m going to be powering up.” Yang’s Semblance flared to life. “Weiss, how do you feel about blasting me with some Dust?”

“Oh, I can do that.” Weiss’s eyes gleamed. “I can definitely do that.”

X     X     X

In retrospect, Ruby thought, taunting her teammates and proclaiming herself the Queen of Tag Town while labelling them all Tag Peasants who should consider themselves lucky to live beneath her tyrannical heel might have been going too far. Oh, sure, she was almost invincible at tag, especially after her training with her Aunt Lightning and Averia on how to better utilise her speed, but Yang knew her better than anyone, and the blonde’s plan was actually really good.

Weiss had basically turned the training ground into a minefield of slow zones and heavy zones. Trying to move through those areas would be a huge mistake, and Weiss was skilled enough to keep them from hindering Yang and Blake too much. Meanwhile, dealing with one Blake wasn’t too bad, but there were now twenty of the Faunus chasing after her, all of them working in near perfect unison.

And then there was Yang.

People liked to focus on how Yang’s Semblance let her dish out more damage. And, yeah, Yang’s Semblance allowed her to go from hitting like a truck to hitting like artillery, but Yang’s Semblance didn’t just boost her strength. It boosted all of her physical abilities.

And Yang had spent the past several minutes getting blasted by Weiss.

Yang wasn’t as fast as Ruby, but she was way, way, way faster than normal. If Ruby had to guess, she’d say that Yang was moving at least triple her usual speed with increased agility to match. Combined with how well Yang knew her, that meant Yang wasn’t someone Ruby could ignore, but it was becoming increasingly hard to deal with Weiss and Blake and keep an eye on Yang at the same time.

Oh, and now Weiss was spamming speed Glyphs on Yang because clearly using Ember Celica to throw herself around still wasn’t enough.

Ruby ducked and then twisted to avoid a lunge from a pair of Blake’s clones before leaping over Yang’s oncoming form and then contorting herself in mid-air to evade Blake. She could easily have teleported, but they had all agreed that would defeat the purpose of the exercise. As Blake rushed over her, she formed another clone that grabbed Blake by the ankle and hurled her back at Ruby.

“Seriously?” Ruby yelped as she fired Crescent Rose at the ground to give her the boost she needed to dodge Blake’s rush only to have to use her weapon as a springboard to avoid Yang as the blonde shot toward her like a comet. “That was close!”

A slow zone began to form underneath her, and Ruby rushed to get clear, taking a brief detour to grab her weapon, before another trio of Blakes accosted her followed by Yang lunging at her ankles. Ruby was forced to jump, and Blake was there, using Gambol Shroud like a lasso in a bid to tie her up.

Ruby tucked herself into a ball, glad that her petite frame allowed her to dodge the attack, before she kicked off a branch and leapt high over the battlefield to give herself some breathing room. Of course, the ground beneath her began to glow, and she had to move again before the heavy zone Weiss was making could weigh her down.

“Not bad.” Ruby took a deep breath as her teammates regathered themselves. “You almost had me that time! But I am the Queen of Tag Town! I cannot be caught by mere Tag Peasants!” If she was going to go down, she’d go down swinging. “You can try all you like, but I shall emerged victorious!”

X     X     X

“Is there a reason that you’re carrying a tied-up Ruby over your head like a trophy, Yang?” Diana asked as she sat up to watch the group walk past. Basking was definitely enjoyable, but it was kind of rude to bask while asking someone a question. On the rock beside her, Strangles continued to enjoy the warm sunshine.

“We finally caught the Queen of Tag Town,” Yang replied. “So we have to celebrate.” She chuckled. “We’re going to get cleaned up and then head into town to grab lunch.”

“Oh!” Ruby’s eyes lit up. “Can we visit that new bakery while we’re there?” She squirmed. “They’ve got cookies and cakes and heaps of good stuff. At least, that’s what Pyrrha says. She and Team JNPR went there last week.”

“Sure.” Yang slung Ruby over her shoulder. “We wouldn’t want our queen to go hungry.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Ruby is pretty damn good at tag even if she isn’t allowed to teleport. Still, it’s great training for the others and for her since it teaches her situational awareness and evasion while the others get to practice their tactics and teamwork. 

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[tasiawrites]

Lets Talk Culture

the 7th of February is the independence day of my country (happy 48th Grenada) and while watching the annual parade and a few people from our sister isle partake in celebration while tourists watched I ruminated on our national dish that I had the day before and thought about us, a small island with a dying culture.

Grenada is a Tri-Island state in the Caribbean with a majority black population. we gained our independence from England in 1974. before that, we were a colony of France and Spain that (we were deadass passed around like a hot potato). our countries struggle has been extremely bloody for a small island that now has a very low crime rate compared to Trinidad an island next to us.

from this point there is no structure I'll just be talking but bear with me it will make sense

first and foremost I am doing history in school for no reason other than I can but also so that I can learn. truthfully we don't spend a lot of time talking specifically about Grenada and we spend it talking about slavery. slavery was a big thing here, most of our plantation houses are still intact and maintained. while the general public doesn't talk about it because of blissful ignorance they actively take part in the culture we built off slavery, mainly J'ouvert.

now J'ouvert yeah please stop crediting things that originated in Grenada to Trinidad. they didn't make J'ouvert or the steel pan or oil down. ( i get mad about this thing especially because we do it better and get accused of stealing and Trini oil-down is ass hot ass respectfully) Trinidad is larger than Grenada so most people see our national dish and J'ouvert from there. and we play mass better I have never played J'ouvert before. I hadda give credit Trinidad's fancy mass is one of if not the best in the Caribbean.

every if not most Caribbean culture has carnival and with no bias, ours is the best with Nevis as a runner up. J'ouvert is part of carnival, which each country has during a different time of the year. but not all carnival has J'ouvert.

now this brings us to the crossroad of language, culture, folklore, and tradition. we shall start with language. J'ouvert is a French word and Grenada has patios but most young people including myself cannot speak outside of the common words. we don't know how to speak it because older people wanted to speak without us knowing what they were saying. now the older generation now complains that no young person they know can speak patios when they were unwilling to teach us in our youth when we wanted to learn. which leads to gypsy which i can speak and understand and so can most young people here. though our dialect, patois, and gypsy are languages that our English teachers correct us on every time it is heard. I cannot express how many times I or someone around me has been told to speak proper English when we speak like that, they correct us using the dialect too.

I should start learning patois from a friend's grandmother who is willing to teach from July. it is a dying part of our culture that is dying due to ignorance.

now we talk about culture and tradition together

in Carriacou, one of the three islands that makes up the tri-island state, culture and tradition is kept alive and breathing. their carnival is in February I think I haven't been to one in years and it is a beautiful display of big drum and maypole dancing, parang and band playing, donkey racing, and other fun activities (if you want i can get videos or my people love there to talk about it). they're just good at keeping it alive they teach the younger generations from small and its just nice yall trust me.

Grenada, the mainland, on the other hand, does not preserve or at least not well the significant bits of culture that each parish has. there is the moco jumbie or the jab jab and other things that I will not try to spell because old french is hard. these things have lost significance or people with the ability to do it because people are not willing to teach so in turn people are not willing to learn. I used to play steel pan and maypole dance but I'm too scared to return because it has been more than six years and my sill has been reduced to ash. they were both enjoyable and culturally significant but they will ultimately die out.

j'ouvert will never and neither will jab jab because Grenadians like to be drunk and have fun and not even a pandemic could stop that. jab jab was originally slaves in molasses and tar scaring slave masters in our slave rebellion. but now it's old oil on skin with animal blood in your mouth (think racist depictions of black people except the lips aren't as big). the history is discussed only when you ask and most people who do it don't even know.

Because Grenada was a major export of spices including nutmeg and cinnamon and cocoa. I get cuss because I don't know how to clean spice aka cinnamon for donkey ass. but you scrape the tree bark, cut it around the circumference beat is the peel the cinnamon off he now good firewood. my uncle cuss me because I don't have the skill nor can watch the tree and say 'yes johnny this one good' its not my fault that my childhood was books and trauma. he said at least can care for cocoa and clean nutmeg.

while Carriacou has maroons for getting things done, granda rarely has one. even if we are tight-knit communities we come together to get things done. a maroon was a settlement of runaway slaves but is when a community comes together to do hard work like building a house while singing playing music and then eating and going home because (if you're not black just say itis) niggaritis does hold them.

off-topic but food here is just yes. I went to maroon when I was a child and fell in love with roll rice and roll cucu (god alone know how to spell that but its made from cornmeal)

anyway, folklore here is trauma and I live 'behind god back' so I seen some shit, I heard some shit and I know people who've been through some shit. but if you want I'll tell you about our mythos ( and why most of their names french I cannot spell anything that isn't standard English because our dialect is one of the hardest in the Caribbean to accumulate too because at first, it's like oh yeah I understand because our accent is like Antigua or Jamaica but when you listen you hearing cacapul (fowl shit in patios)).

we go talk about colorism and other affairs in a different post this one is about how my culture outside of its food and Carriacou is dying and no one will do anything to stop it but like I can talk about the murder assassinations and invasion too because you know we had a civil war so bad America came and buried our prime minister in a mass unmarked grave which has not been found. my late grandfather got shot in that and had the scar to prove it.

do with this hot mess of a post what u will I'm just saying I live on a dot that has been through some shit

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 20

Douxie x fem reader

Masterlist in Bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 20 summary: Battle of Killahead time.

Douxie made sure to heal your hand before you arrived to see the trolls. You supposed he wanted to make a good impression on your brother and you having your hand burned wouldn’t help him.

You went through Claire’s shadow portal and stepped into a stone cave. Jim and Callista were there and so was...Vendel. You froze in the middle of the portal and Douxie bumped into you as he came through.

“What’s wrong? Douxie asked, half leading you half carrying you away from the portal.

“That’s Vendel,” you whispered, tears already pricking your eyes.

You didn’t have the time to explain more as Claire popped in. “Hey, that's my boyfriend you're operating on!”

Vendel jumped “Oh! Humans! Sound the alarm!”

You heard a faint swoosh as Arthur came through the portal. “Hold! Please, Vendel of Dwoza. I humble myself before you. Camelot needs your help.”

“And why should we help Camelot?” Vendel asked, side eyeing you as tears rolled down your face. They weren’t tears of sadness or joy at seeing himd, you weren’t really feeling any exact emotions, you were just overwhelmed. Seeing your late mentor in the past could do that to you.

“-Camelot has been devastated,” Arthur was saying and you realized you had zoned out, just staring at Vendel through your tears.

Vendel sighed “Perhaps we could talk about this in a more private setting?”

“Of course,” Arthur said and Vendel led him away. You followed them out into a bigger room where Vendel and Arthur stood by a wall to discuss while a ring of knights guarded them. It made sense to have guards, but unfortunately they weren’t just guarding, they were keeping you and your friends from hearing the conversation.

Douxie kept his arm wrapped around your shoulder in silent support as you tried to listen.

Gumar the Black's swarm of Gumm-Gumms are ready to strike. The monsters seek vengeance on both our kind,” Arthur pointed out.

“And after all you've done, you expect us trolls to fight in this war for you?” Vendel asked, jabbing a figure at Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. “No, not for me; with me, as equals.”

“Glorkus me!”

“I vow, if we win this war, we shall live in peace.”

“Gumm-Gumm's are terrifying warriors while we are but humble gravel miners. How do you expect us to ever defeat Gunmar?”

“We will give you a secret weapon,” Arthur said.

Jim came up behind you. “You really think they can work this out?”

You and Douxie turned to face him. “They have to, or everyone in Camelot and Dwoza are doomed.”

“Then so is saving history. Great,” Claire grumbled.

“I assure you, all will be fine once I've completed my amulet,” Merlin promised as he walked over to your little huddle. “So, this is the once and future Trollhunter I've heard of. May I have a word, alone?”

Jim shrugged. “Um, sure. Be right back.”

You let go of Douxie to give him a quick hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, and it seems that there are some things I missed out on,” Jim said, looking at Douxie.

“I’ll explain everything later,” you promised as Jim walked away. You moved back over to Douxie, but decided to face away from Arthur and Vendel. Everytime you looked at your old mentor all you felt was a heavy crushing sensation in your heart and lungs. It felt like you couldn’t breath at times.

You had lost Vendel in such a horrible way and at such a horrible time. It killed you inside that you couldn’t warn him of Usurna’s treachery without fear of messing up history.

You recalled when you had first met him, you had snapped at him when he didn’t believe your brother would be a good Trollhunter and after you had calmed a little he had offered an apprenticeship to you. You hadn’t been onboard with having Véndel as your teacher, but he grew on you, the two of you had just gotten off on the wrong foot. And from there he grew into a father figure for you, just as Blinky had for Jim. He had always been a silent supporter of yours, encouraging you in your practice of magic.

You were once again snapped out of your musings by Claire. “I think they’re done talking, we should go discuss what’s gonna happen next,” she suggested and the four of you walked over there. “Hey, is everything okay? What are you talking about?”

Jim glanced nervously and guiltlily between you and Claire. “Oh, um... nothing. Just Merlin prepping me for the trip home.”

Douxie smiled. “Wait, wait, wait, you finally finished the Heart of Avalon? It's working?”

Merlin nodded “Indeed. But first, we must survive the battle to come.”

“Wizard,” Arthur called, interrupting any further conversation. “We've reached an agreement. Now you must convince the crowd.”

You and your friends stayed on the ground while Arthur and Merlin went up to a rock balcony that looked over an area of Dwoza. It was interesting how much cozier it was here than in the other Trollmarkets which were much more open concept. You would have enjoyed exploring it more had you not had other more important things to do.

“Trolls of Dwoza, hear us now!” Vendel called.

Arthur cleared his throat. “As we speak, death comes for us all. But we bring an offer of hope.”

Douxie grinned at you and opened the time map. “Here comes the light show.” A string of golden sparks flew out of it and around the room before converging into a bright ball. The ball glowed brighter before becoming a large projection of the amulet. It flew across the room where another projection appeared, showing Killahead Bridge. The Amulet found its place on the bridge and a portal opened up, consuming projections of gumm-gumms.

“I've designed a grand weapon, an amulet which will choose the greatest warrior among you to banish the Gumm-Gumm menace from our realm and become the Trollhunter!” Merlin announced. You cringed when you saw how the crowd of trolls reacted to the name.

“The amulet's power will activate Killahead Bridge, once a border between our worlds, turning it into a magic prison for Gunmar and his brood, trapping them in the Darklands and ending this war!” Arthur explained, trying to call attention back to the main goal.

“I, Draal, Dwoza's strongest, shall be chosen for glory!” Your head snapped up when you heard that voice. You couldn’t believe Draal was there too. He seemed just like himself, trying to earn the amulet. You felt more tears pool in your eyes when you remembered what had happened to him. He was yet another person you could not warn of future events.

You glanced over at Claire and Jim and you saw that their eyes were misty too. Douxie came over and wrapped his arm around you again gently wiping away a tear that had slipped out. You smiled up at him and took a deep breath. You’d have to stay focused and fight to keep your time together in the future intact.

“The battle will not be easy. While the wizard builds this am-yoo-let, the king's men will train our bravest,” Vendel announced.

Lancelot stepped forward. “Indeed. I shall guide the-“

Steve jumped on Lancelots back, startling the knight and making you laugh to which Douxie responded by looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. “Yeah! Knights Steve and Lance here to whip you big hosses into warriors! Krav Maga! Turtle stance! Whoo! Ah! Hee-yaw!” Steve yelled, earning more laughs and a few cringes from you and Douxie.

Arthur ignored Steve’s outburst. “Then we ride for Killahead to draw Gunmar out.”

With those final words everyone cheered.

~~~~

“Well, it seems we may have a shot at surviving this after all,” Archie said as you walked through a hallway.

“One shot is the best I can offer. When Killahead activates, it shall unleash a surge of magic across the realm,” Merlin explained coming up behind you.

“Just enough to power the Heart of Avalon for a trip through time!” Douxie exclaimed.

“But only one, which means everything must go according to my plan. Hisirdoux, with me. I need your assistance.”

Claire smiled as Merlin left. “At least we're reunited. We'll get through this... together. Come on, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Uh, you two take a beat. Merlin and I have still got to actually finish the amulet all our hopes are riding on,” Douxie said going off after Merlin.

You hesitated, trying to decide which way to go. It didn’t seem like Merlin needed you and Jim and Claire were going on an impromptu date.

Douxie turned to look back at you. “Coming, love?”

“I’m actually gonna stay here and train. Good luck with the amulet,” you said and Douxie nodded.

“I’ll meet you when you're done.” He gave a wave goodbye and you went your separate ways.  

You made your way to the training grounds and looked for a sparring partner however all the trolls declined, so you went and found yourself a rock.

You hummed to yourself as you practiced your swordsmanship and spells. For a years worth of Magic practice you were quite good if you did say do yourself. You had learned so many new things and you were so proud of yourself.

You leapt into the air, using your magic to push you up and sent a fire spell down at the rock. The spell hit the rock and it lit up with magical flames.

You waved your arms, calling the orange fire back to you and got ready to attack in another way. However, a tap on your shoulder interrupted you. You jumped, startled and whirled around only to find Douxie there. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the staff he was holding.

“Hey there, darling. How’s practice going?” He asked, an excited smile on his face.

“‘How’s my practice going?’ You got your staff! That’s so cool! You totally deserve it.”

“I-yeah.” He looked away from you and you could see that he was still holding himself to impossible standards. You moved closer to him.

“Hey, don’t give me that look you are such a great wizard.”

He leaned down to kiss you. “I guess I’m pretty excited.”

“‘Pretty excited,’” you scoffed. “You had such a big smile on your face when you walked in here. You are way more than ‘pretty excited’.”

“Fine I’m really excited and I can’t wait to use it. It’s gonna be nuclear.”

“I bet.”

Your conversation was cut off from stretching into the topic of the battle when Archie called for you guys, “Merlin is ready to reveal the amulet!”

“Coming!” You called back. Douxie offered you his arm and you took it as you made your way to the cozy little meeting room.

“Today, the amulet will choose one of you to defend your people, to hunt these trolls who have betrayed your kind. You will no longer fear the daylight. You will wield it as the Trollhunter,” Merlin announced and you grinned, looking about for Deya.

Callista scoffed. “Let's see which one of your brown-snouters gets picked.”

Draal stepped forward. “It would be my honor.”

Douxie looked over to Merlin who nodded. “For the Glory of Merlin... awake.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Callista exclaimed as the Amulet flew around the room, from troll to troll. You watched as it eventually settled on her.

“Rise, Trollhunter... and become,” the amulet said.

“Uh, I think your amulet has the wrong troll,” Callista protested.

Merlin shook his head and walked over to her. “No, the amulet does not make mistakes. For whatever reason, it has chosen you. Speak the incantation. Find your purpose, the savior of our worlds.”

Callista’s eyes widened. “Me? I've never been chosen for anything.” She admired the amulet and began to read the inscription. “'For the Glory of-‘“

Draal cut her off and you frowned at him. “Bushigal! It chose Callista the Calamity? She's basically a fleshbag.”

“This is the humans' big plan. The only place that outsider will lead us is death!” Another troll called.

“Ignore them. Accept this honor,” Merlin pushed.

Callista stutumbled, backing away. “No, they're right, I'm not a hero. I'm not even good at being a troll.”

“Go on, say the words!” Merlin yelled as Callista ran off.

“Cal, wait!” Jim called.

Callista briefly turned back. “I... I can't do this!”

You and your friends went to run after her, but Vendel stepped in front of you. “Is this some sick human joke? I believe you fleshbags have done enough damage.”

“We're doomed!” A troll behind you cried.

“Gumm-Gumms are coming for us and we've wasted time with your silly games!” Draal growled.

“We must hide!” Another added.

“We all must fight as allies,” Merlin argued.

Vendel scooted. “You think just because your king gives us a shiny toy, you can buy our loyalty? Leave, and take your trinkets with you!”

“The amulet chose Callista?” Archie questioned as he flew to a ledge behind Claire. You and your friends had retreated to another room after the whole scene and you were worried that things might not turn out. You took a deep breath, trying not to panic.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wasn't Deya the first Trollhunter?” Claire asked and you nodded.

“She was, Deya the deliverer. But I never met any trolls named Deya here,” you explained.

“Either way, without one, Killahead will be a bloodbath,” Douxie pointed out.

“I think I know where Callista went. Claire?” Jim prompted and a portal opened, swallowing them.

“What about the king? Doesn't history need him at Killahead as well?” Archie questioned again. He was making a lot of good points.

Douxie nodded. “Don't worry, I'm on it.”

The two of you made your way to the surface and you looked for Arthur’s aura, you had a good idea of where to look though and you found him.

He was kneeling by the edge of the cliff where Morgana had died, his crown discarded behind him.

“You should talk to him, he might still want to arrest me,” you whispered to Douxie.

“I’m sure he’s forgotten all about that, but I guess it’s inspirational speech time,” he mumbled, walking out of the trees towards the king.

You watched with Archie, but Arthur didn’t seem to be getting cheered up.

“Maybe you should go help him?” Archie suggested and you nodded.

“Let’s hope I don’t get arrested.”

“Who are you, boy?” Arthur asked as you walked towards him.

“I am Hisir-I'm nobody.” He sighed. “History won't remember me. Stories won't be told about me, but I won't let that stop me from fighting for what is right. You are Arthur Pendragon. No matter what happens today, I know for a fact that your story will be told. But it's up to you what legacy you leave behind-- an epitaph... or a legend.”

“But who will stand with me?” Arthur asked.

“I will,” you spoke up, wrapping an arm around Douxie.

“Galahad, stands with his king!” Galahad yelled, coming up on a horse.

“I will stand with you!” Lancelot vowed.

“Sir Steve's got your back, King-o!”

“And I,” Douxie added.

“You'll need air support,” Archie called, flying around you and Douxie.

Arthur grined. “Then let Camelot be remembered as the warriors we were born.”

“Huzzah!” Everyone cheered. You looked over at the setting sun and sighed. You had read so much about the Battle of Killahead and now you were participating in it. You could only hope the outcome would be the same.

~~~~

You arrived at Killahead bridge just as the sun began to truly set. Half the clearing was shaded and the other half was light, but that wouldn’t last long. You summoned your sword and a few daggers and got ready to fight.

You stopped at the tree line and looked up to see Gunmar and his army gathered upon some rocks.

“One king cannot stand against an army, Arthur!” Gunmar taunted as Arthur stepped forward.

“It's a good thing he has an army!” Douxie countered as the rest of you came out of the trees.

“Perfect! More meat for my troops. Beserkers, tenderize them!” Gunmar roared. You watched in horror as Gunmar sent some of his soldiers to their deaths. The moved into balls and rolled down into the clearing, turning to stone once they got into the sun.

“Living cannonballs! Look alive!” Archie warned. You leapt into the air as one got near you. You looked down and winced as you saw soldiers get taken out.

“We must hold Killahead Bridge, no matter what nightmares Gunmar throws at us,” Merlin ordered.

“Arthur, I can smell your fear!” Gunmar called and you could tell that he was growing impatient.

“It's leaking out of his pantaloons!” A gumm-gumm joked and you rolled your eyes. Arthur’s aura was radiating fear, but his courage and determination almost covered it up.

Gunmar laughed. “Prepare to be crushed!”

“Knights of the Round Table, our battle cry will shake the heavens and awake the old gods to witness. Today, we say 'no more' to fear and darkness! For Camelot and glory!”

Douxie turned to you, Jim, and Claire. “I know the Trollhunter isn't here, but we are! Champions! And when I get us all home, brunch on me! For Camelot!”

“For Camelot!” You all echoed, getting ready to rush into battle.

“USA! US- uh...Cam-e-lot! Cam-e-lot!” Steve chanted.

“Hisirdoux, our fates may be uncertain, but there's one thing I am sure of—I chose you well.” Merlin gave a small smile and gently nudged Douxie.

You took a breath. “We’ve got this.”

Douxie looked at Merlin and then you, determination shined in his eyes and radiated off of his aura. “Let's show these blokes the power of wizards!”

“For Camelot!” Arthur cheered as the sun finally disappeared. You, your friends and the rest of the army charged down into the little valley and you immediately blasted two gumm-gumms, though two more took their places. It worried you that Gunmar had so many soldiers.

You leapt into the air and sent a fire spell down, cutting through the enemy lines.

“Heads up!” You heard Claire yell as she came through a portal and kicked away a gumm-gumm. The beast stumbled backwards and you sent a knife through it.

“Just in the nick of time,” Jim thanked.

Claire chuckled, but was cut short by Jim wincing. “We're getting through this... together.”

You sent a quick pain relief spell at Jim then you turned your attention away from them and towards Douxie. He and Archie were taking care of things, but as you landed another gumm-gumm came up from behind. You raced over to him and when the gumm-gumm swung your sword was there to meet him. Douxie quickly moved out of the way and you dropped your sword, sidestepped and blasted the brute in the back.

Douxie turned and blasted a gumm-gumm that ran at him and stabbed one next to it. Another leapt into the air, but before it could hurt either of you DOuxie created a blue beam that trapped it in midair. He killed it and did the same to two other gumm-gumms.

“Arch!” Douxie called when he caught more in his beam. Archie dove towards you and set fire to the beasts. “Ha, ha! Always hated those twits!”

“You’ve got to teach me that some time,” you said, leaping high into the air. You curved and dove face first towards the ground, letting gravity build your momentum. At the last second you twisted again, using magic to keep you from breaking anything, and sent a magic ripple across the ground, taking out about a dozen gumm-gumms. You swayed a bit, not expecting the toll that modified spell would take on you.

“You’ve got to teach me that,” Douxie mimicked and you smiled at him, sending daggers through the gumm-gumms that were right behind him.

“Fight on! The day isn't over yet!” Arthur encouraged. Suddenly you felt a very dark aura enter the battlefield and you looked upwards to see a portal open.

“Night has already fallen.” Morgana yelled. She raised her arms as she touched the ground. “Elemen-zath!”

A blast similar to the one you had just made, rippled through the air. “Demon witch!” Galahad cried.

Douxie looked to you. “Morgana's returned! She's enemy number one!”

“Go! We'll hold the bridge!” Jim said, looking at you.

“Hisirdoux, with me!”

You hesitated, looking between Jim and Douxie. You watched as Jim winced slightly as he moved his arm.

Douxie turned back and you made eye contact with him. “Stay with Jim!” Douxie said, giving you a quick hug.

“Stay safe,” you called back as he ran off towards Merlin. You hopped you had made the right decision as you rejoined the battle fighting alongside your brother.

“Rally, Knights of the Round! Humanity will not go quietly this day!” Arthur called. “With me! Drive them back!”

“Yeah! I ain't afraid of no creeps!” Steve cried charging back into battle.

You raced away from them as you saw a few knights almost get the better of Bular. Swords clanged as you raced past the battle, feet barely hitting the ground. When you arrived you jolted to a stop.

You could outright help Bular, you had to be sneaky. A gumm-gumm came up from behind you and you whirled to face it, an idea forming. It swung its sword at you and you created a shield to meet it. Normally the sword would have bounced harmlessly off the shield, but instead you sent yourself flying backwards, crashing into the knights that were fighting Bular. Honestly they shouldn’t have been standing so close together if they didn’t want to be used as bowling pins.

Bular roared, running off into the ranks to pick an easier fight. You contemplated going after him to make sure he didn’t die and history stayed the same, but you decided against it when you saw him join up with Gunmar.

You apologized to the soldiers and went off to help Jim and Claire fight.

You took down gumm-gumm after gumm-gumm, even trying out the spell you had seen Douxie do. Though the spell you used most was your fire spell, it seemed to do the most damage and could hurt more gumm-gumms.

A blast of Excalibur’s magic radiated through the battle ground and you used the excess to try your spell again. You flew into the air twisted and hit the ground again, sending off another strong blast. Your orange magic turned many gumm-gumms to stone, but there was always more, just as there had been when you were fighting Angor Rot and his golems.

Your celebration was cut short however when the ground shook and a wave of heat hit you.

“The Arcane Order? They're here?” Claire cried.

“We may have come to the end of days! Charge!” Galahad ordered and you had to admire his bravery. You ran to face them with the knights and when one sent a fire spell towards the knights you put up your arms. The force of the spell sent you backwards, but you held your ground. You grunted and sent the flames back at the order, careful not to hurt Nari. She may have been bad now, but you understood that in the future she changed.

More knights rushed to take on the order and you fell back to help Jim.

“Y/n, give me a boost!” Jim called. You sent a wave of Orange magic towards him and he leapt into the air, coming down behind a line of gumm-gumms. They didn’t even have time to react before Jim turned them to stone.

You took care of any behind him, sending daggers at them.

“Y/n!” Claire warned and you whirled around to see some of the monsters charging at you. Before you could react, Claire sent you through a portal and you landed on top of a gumm-gumm’s shoulders. You blasted his two friends and flipped off of him, twisting in the air and performing your spell. The blast radiated around you and you immediately moved to fight more.

You sent spell after spell, fighting alongside Claire and Jim and occasionally Steve. You all watched each other's backs. You mimicked the beam spell Douxie did earlier, turning a gumm-gumm to stone

Suddenly Morgana’s aura was back and you snapped around shocked to see her completely unharmed.

“Brother! We have some unresolved issues,” she hissed.

Arthur stumbled back. “Sister? You're alive? Stop this! Our blood is the same.”

Morgana called. “Is that so? Then let's spill some of yours and make sure!”

You raced to Arthur, ready to take on Morgana yourself. You didn’t know what had happened to Merlin, Douxie, and Archie, but it was the unknown that scared you.

You watched as a golden light brought Arthur to his knees. “You were right. It is like you said.” He dropped Excalibur and you got ready to shield him if necessary. “We are all the same. I have wronged you, as I have all creatures in my realm. I now fight to save them from the violence I have sown. This carnage, these deaths, we can end this.”

Morgana hesitated and you slowed to a stop too. “This-this is a lie. A trick!”

Arthur shook his head. “No, this is our redemption. I should have listened to you.”

While you had been ready to guard against Morgana, what you hadn’t anticipated was the arcane order to teleport in and end him.

“Brother! No!” Morgana cried.

“Merlin's puppet is gone. Go finish it! Show us your loyalty, Morgana!” The fiery one ordered and you tensed ready to fight Morgana.

Her hands glowed gold and a blast radiated through the air as she let out an anguished wail.

“What have you done with Douxie!?” You asked, send a blast towards her. It hit her, sending her backwards, but she didn’t fall.

“What does it matter?” She asked, sending a blast towards you. You leapt into the air, ready to dodge it and pounce on her, but when you hit the ground she had disappeared.

You looked around for her, but she was nowhere. Panic and fear for Douxie and Archie coursed through you as you made your way back to Claire and Jim at an inhuman speed.

You jumped into their battle and took down five gumm-gumms, your anger and fear giving you the power.

“My king!” You heard Galahad cry and you looked over to see Arthur was no longer giving off an aura.

“Their king is dead! Leave no survivors,” Gumar ordered.

With that the gumm-gumms seemed to get a burst of energy. They overtook you, Jim, and Claire, forcing you to your knees. You began to squirm and chant a spell, but a disgusting piece of gumm-gumm armor was shoved into your mouth. It didn’t stop you from trying though as one raised its sword to kill Jim.

You broke free and sent a blast at all of your captors, freeing you. More of the monsters came to take their place, but a horn sounded, distracting them. You looked over to see Callista.

“Hey, need some help?” She asked. “Because I brought some friends!”

“Yes! We are here to not run away!” You heard Blinky yell.

“Well said, brother!” Dictatious said.

“Let's show these glorkheads how a real troll fights! For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command!”

You watched in awe as she charged. A blue glow erupted from the amulet, slightly blinding you as she ran into the valley. Her armor came onto her piece by piece as she took down gumm-gumms. She was amazing.

“Callista, glad you made it!” Jim said as you all fought some of the remaining beasts.

Callista turned to all of you after she finished. “It's Deya, actually. It always was.”

“Deya?” You all echoed. A smile lit up your face.

“History is on track!” You cheered, but your smile faded fast when you recalled all that had happened before Callista arrived.

You turned to Claire. “I need to find Douxie.”

“I’m on it.” A portal bloomed and you readied your sword. “Be careful, I’ll come and help soon.”

“I will, let’s just hope that they’re okay.” You took a shaky breath and jumped in.

You walked out of the portal only to be blasted with a golden beam sending you into a wall. Apparently Morgana had gone to finish her fight with the wizards and your boyfriend was okay.

With that thought you fell to the floor. The breath was knocked out of you and you laid there, trying to find the strength to get back up before Morgana realized there was another magic user in the room.

“She's too powerful! We have no choice but to seal her away!” Merlin yelled.

“I know. I'll try to buy some ti-“ Douxie was cut off and you felt heat radiate through the room.

Morgana laughed. “Oh, shame! Little Douxie finally gets his staff, just in time to die with it!”

You finally gathered the strength to get up, your fear for Douxie once again consuming you. THankfully you noticed him lying on the ground on the opposite side of the room. Merlin had pushed him out of the way.

You took some deep breaths and created a shield around yourself. You watched as the fire cleared away, revealing Merlin to be in chains. Morgana charged and began to fight Douxie. He met her every move, countering her, but you didn;t know how long he’d be able to hold her off.

“You can't even wield it! You should stick to your usual tricks.” Morgana taunted and you realized that while she was distracted by Douxie, you could go free Merlin.

“Use the power of your staff! Make it your own!” Merlin encouraged Douxie as you came up to him. You put a figure to your lips to quiet the old wizard as you worked to undo the chains.

You carefully peaked around him to watch the battle and you were rewarded with the sight of Douxie’s staff transforming into an electric guitar. He raised its tricking Morgana in the face.

The witch stumbled backwards. “What?!”

Douxie admired the guitar. “Bleeding balroths! This is nuclear!”

Morgana put a shocked hand to her face. “Did you just strike with a-a lute?”

Douxie shook his head. “Uh-uh-uh-uh. No, uh-uh. Spellcaster guitar, darling.” He strummed it. “Needs tuning, though.”

Merlin groaned. “I meant make it your own weapon!”

“Well, this is technically an 'axe',” Douxie joked, earning a silent chuckle from you. He began to play more.

“Hisirdoux, this is no time for dreadful music!” Merlin scolded.

“Dreadful?” Douxie scoffed.

“Absolutely infernal,” Morgana agreed and you were tempted to reveal yourself to compliment Douxie’s music, but you thought better of it. You’d make sure to do it later though.

“No worries, this is just the opening track!” Douxie said, playing louder.

“What do you hope to do? Blow out our eardrums?” Merlin asked and you whacked him.

“Stay quiet,” you hissed as you got to the last bit of chain. “You don’t want Morgana to know I’m here.

“Well, pardon me if this rock is too freakin' awesome for your medieval sensibilities!” Douxie countered and you laughed, forgetting you were supposed to be silent. Thankfully Merlin covered it with a cough.  

Morgana held up her staff. “Enough of your noise!”

Morgana sent a beam of golden magic at Douxie who tried to counter, but you could see him struggling. “And...nope. Plan B,” he yelped, jumping down.

As they fought Morgana overpowered him and you watched as Douxie fell. Morgana sent a blast at Douxie who shielded himself, but he was quickly thrown against the wall, barely able to keep himself safe.

“Do not fret, Merlin. You'll find a new apprentice to replace him. Are people not dispensable, after all?” Morgana taunted, but her celebration was premature. Archie soared towards her, blasting her with fire just as you freed Merlin. He called his staff to him and you held out your hands. You and Merlin sent blasts at Morgana, giving Douxie the time he needed.

“Archie! Arch, light me!” Douxie requested. He heard out his hands and blue fire swirled around the room, creating a ring around Morgana.

You got ready to join the fight, but the fire quickly faded to show Douxie hovering in the air with a frozen Morgana. “Hurry! I can't hold her that long!”

Merlin brought his staff down and a green symbol grew out from it, creating a circle. “You've lost yourself, Morgana! Bound to dark magic. I have no choice but to seal you away! Sigilia infractum!”

Suddenly you and Merlin were pushed back as Morgana broke Douxie’s hold. “Master!” Douxie cried, rushing to Merlin. You noticed he seemed to be bleeding shadows.

Merlin groaned. “She's too powerful! You have to finish this alone.”

Douxie nodded, standing up. He placed his own staff down and began to chant. “Sigilia infractum! Causera!”

“I will destroy you all! No matter what it takes, no matter where you go, I will end all that you love until you feel my agony!” Morgana vowed, sending a blast of magic at Douxie. You threw out your hands sending a shield to him, but before it could hit a shadow portal appeared consuming it.

“Hey! Hands off my teacher!” Claire yelled.

Morgana scowled. “I swear on your lives, I shall rise again!”

Claire scoffed. “Already seen it. You don't win. See you in 900 years!”

Douxie completed the spell and you ran over to hug him, but instead he just fell into your arms.

“Douxie!” You cried.

“Douxie! Are you okay?” Claire asked as Archie jumped onto him.

Douxie yelped as Archie started licking him. “Ugh! That's-that's disgusting!” You and Claire laughed at him.

“At least you’re safe.” You smiled.  

Douxie sighed. “Well...I think we just saved history.”

“And took down a ninth-level sorceress,” Archie added.  “Merlin would be proud.”

You all looked over to see the sleeping wizard. “Yeah, if he wasn't out cold,” Claire said.

~~~~

Now that the battle was over, it was time to get your affairs in order and go home. You had mostly enjoyed your time in Camelot, but you were definitely homesick and you really missed Mao.

“Everybody, ready yourselves. We don't have much time. I'll dial us in for when we left,” Douxie said as he stood at the helm of the castle.

“But what's gonna happen when we get there? The danger we escape, it'll be waiting for us. And Jim's still hurt,” Claire reminded.

“Yeah, we need a plan or something. Can you encase Jim in the gem like Merlin did?” You asked.

Douxie looked at you and Claire, pity shining in his eyes. “Claire, Y/n, about that... Jim is-“

“Ready to face the inevitable,” Jim interjected.

Douxie hesitated. “Jim, are you sure?”

“Jim?” You and Claire asked.

Jim sighed. “Claire, the shard in...There is no cure. That's what Merlin told me earlier.”

Claire took a step back. “That's crazy! We can find something! I'll learn a spell. We can stay here.”

Jim shook his head. “If we don't all go back right now, the future won't exist. And what kind of hero would I be if I sacrificed everyone else? Not to be ironic, but we're out of time.”

“No, no, no. We can’t be out of time, you’re only sixteen,” you protested.

“Douxie, tell him! We can fix this! You can fix this!” Claire cried.

Douxie looked away from you. “I'm sorry. He's right. We must go back now, but when we do, we'll find a way to reverse this. I promised I would return you home, and I am, but the portal can only stay open for a few moments. This is our one shot. Trust me.”

Jim shook his hand and you hugged your brother tightly. You weren’t ready to let him go, but you relented and joined Douxie.

“You said to make the tough calls, old man. I hope I'm doing the right thing,” he mumbled. He hit a switch on the time map and you watched as the rings around the Heart of Avalon shifted till they were aligned, creating a bright beam of light and your portal home.

Douxie helped you to the boat and you jumped on.

Claire helped Jim over. “There has to be another way. This isn't fair!”

Jim gave a sad smile. “That seems to be a reoccurring thing with us. You sure you wanna keep dating me?”

Claire mimicked his smile. “I'd date you for a hundred lifetimes, Jim Lake.”

A tear fell and Jim wiped it away. “Hey, we'll figure this out. We always find a way to save each other.”

You and Douxie walked over to the helm and he put his staff in. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised you.

“Man Camelot was crazy! Why don’t they ever talk about that in the history books?” Steve asked, walking to the bow and earning a chuckle from you.

You gently leaned it to Douxie as you went through the portal. “My burden to bear,” he whispered.

You shook your head. “We’ve got this. We’ll find a way to make everything right.”

****

Yay, it's out! I can't believe after this there is only one more chapter........until the movie comea out, if course. After that I'll continue it. But stil, it's come a long way. Anyways, I hope y'all have a fantastic day/night and stay safe! Thanks for reading! I hope you like it and feel free to leave comments.

Also thank you to @super-nova-of-death @lillycore and @catuskat666 for helping me make a decision for were to take this chapter!

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