#Lineage Booth Girl

[impossiblesuitcase]

I've seen people argue that Cinder choosing to become the empress of the Eastern Commonwealth when she explicitly states that she doesn't want to be royalty is out-of-character. I counter argue that that is a oversimplification of her personal insecurities and a misreading of her character arc.

Cinder's key reasons for not wanting to be royalty are 1. She doesn't want to fail people. 2. She desires anonymity, and 3. She doesn't believe that she will be accepted by others--"She had seen the prejudices of the people in the Commonwealth. Something told her that they wouldn't be as accepting of her as a ruler. She wasn't even sure she wanted to be empress. She was still getting used to the idea of being a princess."

Cinder is naturally afraid of the responsibility she would have to bear as a leader. However that does not translate to her being inactive. Cinder is keenly interested in social justice. She encourages Iko to petition the government to initiate change for androids in the very first chapters we meet her. She takes an active part in the revolution, not just for the preservation of her own life, but because she genuinely cares about the citizens of Luna. This is affirmed by how Cinder prefers to be called a revolutionary over a princess--her politics mean more to her than her lineage. Once crowned queen of Luna, she is tireless in enacting changes to the country. If she truly hated being in this position as queen, she would have taken a much more passive stance and allowed the thaumaturges to manage the kingdom. In Wires and Nerve she demonstrates how deeply she cares about the welfare of her people and fights against threats to her country personally even when she is strongly encouraged against it. And then, once she abdicates her throne, she becomes an ambassador to facilitate peaceful relations between Earth and Luna. Released from her birthright, she could have resumed life as a mechanic, still hassled by paparazzi, but no longer held accountable for political peace. But Cinder chooses to stay a politician because she has always genuinely cared about using her power to help others. She represents the powerless as having been that once herself.

Cinder desires a life without public scrutiny. But where does this originate? This desire is an extension of Adri's abuse. Because she was mocked for being cyborg, she wished to hide from people in general so they do not uncover her secret. But she sacrifices this luxury when she decides to go to the ball and tell Kai of Levana's plot. Later, she comes to accept that--born into fame--she would never enjoy a life of anonymity.

Connected with her insecurity as a cyborg, Cinder fears that she will not be accepted by others. She believes this as a byproduct of the discrimination she faced from fellow shopkeepers in New Beijing Market such as Chang Sacha. However Kai makes it clear that the people of the Commonwealth have come to appreciate her, even wanting to make a "statue [of her] where [her] booth used to be at the market" and "action figures" of her. Although she will always have critics, Cinder is generally liked by Earthens and praised by them for abdicating her throne, promising an end to Lunar tyranny.

Kai is right when he tells her that she "would make a great leader" even when she "never wanted to be queen." Why? Because her wants and her abilities are different. The 16-year-old Cinder we first meet opposes her birthright as queen because she has the weight of the universe placed on her shoulders with just one sentence. She's an unloved, inexperienced teenager--of course she's more than hesitant! However she grows to embrace this fundamental part of herself, even having "pride" to declare that she is "the rightful heir!" Cinder becomes loved and becomes experienced. For her to remain the same girl in the prison cell, terrified by the prospect of being a princess would be a stagnation of her character development. It may not be the life she chose, but it is all the same the life that she accepts.

When Kai asks her to consider becoming the empress in the future, Cinder agrees and takes "in the first full breath she'd taken in days." We don't see a girl paralyzed with fear or regret. Rather, she feels relief because she can envision this prospect and not be crushed by it. And finally, when Kai proposes, she excitedly looks forward to these things: "She would be Kai's wife. She would be the Commonwealth's empress. And she had every intention of being blissfully happy for ever, ever after." Cinder's vision for happiness welcomes being the empress despite the hardships attached to it, and she is the most motivated, willing and hard-working candidate for the position.

[dharma-divine]

DIOSKOUROI

Chapter II

Pairing: Twins x (Female) Reader, endgame TBD

Summary: Given your first taste of freedom in order to attend a prestigious arts academy, you befriend a sweet, charming boy who ultimately proves to be delinquent warlock, desperate to free his equally deceitful twin brother from hell after a necessary betrayal to their coven. You are essential to the brothers’ liberation and reunion, and in the process of learning of their mystic abilities and lineage, you reveal the truth of your own.

(For a more information regarding mythological references and character abilities, please click here)

WARNINGS: Mild suggestive content

Taglist: @gardenvanfleet @alwayzthere @sammygvfslut @gretavanhoney @maverick-rose @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw @obetrolncocktails @capturethechaos @tlexx @charlesashton @garagebandvanfleet @myownparadise96 @jakeslovehandles @sparrowofthedawn @alt-jb @idk-maddie @theweightofstardust @danny-wagners-peacesign-necklace

(special thanks to Alana for being such a huge help with editing xx)

☽ ✩ ☾

The woods come creeping into your line of sight once more, along with the twists of flames lapping at the sky and the boy sitting before them.

“Help him. Please.”

The same scene plays out as before, with you wandering unscathed into the fire, following the dark figure until some unbeknownst force pulls you back into the trees.

The only difference this time is when you reach for his hand, not only do you feel his soft palm but also the band of something hard pressed between your fingers. You squint down to notice that it’s a ring, looped around his pointer finger in a stark black. It feels like stone — obsidian, with its shockingly cool touch even while being surrounded by pure heat.

For some reason, while his features once again melted from your memory by the time you wake the next morning, the image of the ring around his finger sticks, glinting among the flames appearing every time you close your eyes.

You’re pondering the image, and trying to recall the faces of the mysterious recurring characters in these strange dreams, the entire morning, your brows furrowed with thought as you sit in class with Josh.

It’s the third week of classes, and you can tell you’ve already fallen helplessly behind, though you can’t rid yourself of the distracting thoughts that drown out the sound of the professor’s droning voice.

You’re suddenly interrupted when Josh lightly nudges your arm with his elbow, before sliding his notebook over so you can see what’s scribbled on the top line.

What’s on your mind?

You blush at the thought that he was watching you ponder to yourself, jotting down a reply.

I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Too much to write down, will tell you about it after class.

How about over coffee?

Your heart leaps at the inquiry, and you glance over to see his cheeky smile and fan of lashes, his eyes remaining on the open notebook.

As classes have settled in you’ve found that you both have a perfect slot of time nestled between lectures for a quick lunch  break, and the café down the hall from your lecture has been calling your name since its delicious smell first wafted past you.

Okay, you write back, to which he doodles you a smiley face.

☽ ✩ ☾

You find a cozy corner with a booth and big table, sliding your bag off your shoulder and onto the plush leather, its aroma mixing with the delicious smell of coffee.

“I’m gonna go order, what would you like?” Josh asks as he heads for the counter.

“Um…” you ponder, face flushing as you panic to think of something. “I’ve never gotten coffee from a shop before, we’re a strictly tea household. What do you usually get?”

Josh smiles, clearly endeared by your strangeness to the concept. 

“I usually get a caffé ristretto or espresso, but they’re a bit strong if you’re not used to the taste,” he explains. “How about just a latte? Coffee and milk?”

You grin, nodding your head eagerly. “That sounds perfect.”

He nods, then walks over to the girl standing behind the counter to order. You can tell by his mannerisms and how a blushed smile instantly rosies her cheeks that he’s charming her, though their words are not in earshot. You hear her giggle as she hands him his receipt, and a tight, antsy feeling arises in your stomach that you recognize as jealousy.

He’s like that with everyone, you tell yourself. Why be jealous?

But the feeling ceases to fade, and it isn’t until his head turns back towards you, the girl following his gaze, that you snap out of it, giving them an anxious, awkward wave.

“She’s never had coffee from a shop before, isn’t that crazy?” you’re finally able to hear him say, followed by another bout of the barista’s swooning giggles.

You shake your head at him amusedly as he carefully carries the drinks back to your table, moving your books aside so he can set them down.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the two cups down before taking his seat.

You admire the frothy rose decorated on top of yours, the way you always see it illustrated. 

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, the sweet, creamy smell hitting your nose. “It’s so pretty I almost don’t want to drink it. What do I owe you?”

He holds up a hand, waving it at you dismissively as he takes his first sip. “Don’t worry about it, please. I’m only interested in hearing about this dream of yours. What happened?”

Your chest leaps at the reminder of the purpose of this meeting, keeping you from the chance to argue further about the money. You take a sip of your latte, finding it as comforting and wonderful as it smells, even though it nearly burns your tongue.

“Right – it’s, um, it’s really intense,” you warn, adjusting yourself in your seat. “And so, so vivid – to the point where it feels real.”

Josh sits back as he sips his coffee, his eyes above the brim of the cup set on you.

“So I start off in a forest, and my chest feels tight, as if I've just been running. Some kind of grand force is luring me to this meadow past all the trees, and a deep voice is coming from somewhere around me, speaking in a language I don’t know — I think it might be Latin? And when I make it to the meadow, there’s a huge fire in the middle that’s completely stagnant, not growing or moving, the flames just stay in place. And in front of the fire –”

You pause, trying once again to comprehend the faces of the figures you have seen so many times at this point, but ultimately blanking.

“There’s a boy sitting, his legs folded, literally inches away from the flames. His mouth moves to the words I’m hearing above me, but the voice is way too loud to be coming from just him alone. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but it’s so loud and powerful I feel it shaking in my chest. He starts pleading for me to help with something, and a second later another boy comes from inside the flames.”

Your breathing has picked up, the recount of the imagery so intense it’s sending you into a near panic attack, your eyes trained to the table.

“Hey, It’s okay,” you hear Josh speak softly, lifting his hand to squeeze the top of yours comfortingly. “You don’t have to continue if it stresses you too much.”

You squeeze back, flinching when you feel something cold pressing into your hand. You let go to see a black ring looped around Josh’s middle finger, and suddenly the image from your dream flashes in your mind.

“That’s funny,” you smile, a bit of anxiety lifting away as you pull Josh’s hand to your face to inspect the ring further, to which he looks confused. “Your ring— the boy from the dream had one on, the second one that was in the fire. In fact I think it was on the same exact finger. What is it?”

“Obsidian,” he says, looking a bit melancholy. “It was my brother’s, he gave it to me right before he was taken.”

You remember registering the stone in your subconscious, and the whole exchange is feeling like a strange blast of deja vu.

“Is there any meaning behind it being on your middle finger?” you ask.

“No,” he grins, twisting the ring with his thumb. “It’s just the only finger it fits on. I only wear it when I’m especially missing him, I’m afraid it’ll twist off and I’ll lose it. It’s funny that it made it into your dream, though. Our minds have an interesting way of saving little details of our lives.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” you add, shaking your head. “I’ve never had such vivid dreams before, like could they mean anything?”

”Yeah, definitely,” he says, pondering to himself for a moment. “The fire and the figures could represent a multitude of things; your anxieties and any obstacles holding you back, your emotions, literally anything. It’s hard to pinpoint which is which, but regardless it sounds like you’re going through a lot. I’m sorry these dreams are causing you so much stress, I wish I could help.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, honing in on the sensation of his thumb against the top of your hand to keep you calm. “Thank you for listening, I appreciate it.”

You know it’s odd to feel so close to someone so quickly, but it feels like you’ve known Josh for years, like you’ve been best friends since you were little and taken on this life together. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really had a friend before, but you feel like you could trust him with anything. Every other man you’ve come in contact with since your freedom has had this deep violet aura around them, even when they’ve been perfectly nice, your intuition telling you that they reek with danger, and to tread lightly around them, to not let them know too much. But you haven’t had that voice with Josh, not for a single second. His aura is bright yellow, tinged with tendrils of red and orange. Friendly, adventurous, thoughtful, considerate, well-grounded, that’s him. He’s your safe space in this new world that you’re still trying to figure out.

“Do you like it?” Josh finally asks, pulling his hand from you to point at your coffee cup, breaking you out of the near trance you fell under.

“Oh,” you blush. “Yeah, I do. It’s delicious.” 

You take a larger gulp now that it’s not as hot, its sweet bitterness coating your tongue.

Your notice Josh begin to sift through his book bag and decide to go back to your own studying, grabbing the moleskin you had taken out while you waited for the coffee. To your dismay, you open its pages to find only a few nonsense lines written, along with some mindless doodles sketched in the margins. You glance over at Josh’s notebook, seeing them filled from top to bottom. He has impressively neat handwriting, and even drew diagrams and pictures to illustrate each subject.

“Well, shit,” you curse quietly to yourself.

“Can I copy yours?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, sliding it over with a grin.

You briefly reflect on the fact that you have not noticed Josh pick up his pencil once in the three classes you’ve had with him thus far, but you decide to ignore it, doing your best at copying what he has written.

An hour later, you’ve given up on the copying and gone to simply taking photos of his pages, your eyes tired and stomach grumbling.

“I think this is good for now, I should get home,” you tell Josh, flipping your notebook closed and slapping your pen down on its cover.

“Sweet,” he replies, shutting the book he was reading. “Any exciting plans for the night?” 

You realize it’s Friday, and that the unfortunate answer for you is no.

“I’ll probably just stay home with my aunt, maybe watch a movie,” you shrug, zipping up your bag and slumping it over your shoulder.

“Well, wanna go to a party instead?” he asks, and you freeze at the word party, an anxious knot immediately forming in your chest.

You look up to see him standing above you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Josh you know I-”

“Oh come on,” he urges as you stand up and push your chair in. “It’s a casual affair, at a friend of mine’s house right off campus. Starts at ten, you can be home by midnight…”

You roll your eyes even though the way he pitches his voice at the end of his sentence makes a smile pull at your lip, and you know his convincing is already winning you over.

“I’ll have to sneak out, and I’ve never done that before,” you say, your voice mousy and innocent.

“So?” he quips, giving you a light push on your shoulder. “You’ve had a lot of firsts lately, what’s one more?”

You sigh, worrying your lip.

“She’s a light sleeper,” you point out. “Though…”

You think of the bundle of valerian root you saw in the kitchen cupboard recently, enough to knock out an army.

“Though…” Josh repeats as he follows you closely as you both exit the cafe.

“Okay, I’ll see,” you blush, flattered that he’s so adamant about your attendance. “Just send me the address.”

“Already sent,” he smiles, just as your phone pings with his text.

“See you at eleven?” he calls as he begins to part ways to his last class upstairs, with you on your way to your lab building across campus.

“See you,” you grin, your head ringing with nervous anticipation with how this night will play out.

☽ ✩ ☾

“So her memory is catching up to us,” Jake says after his brother explained the events of the day, his face half illuminated in an orange glow. “She didn’t question you any more about the ring?”

“No,” Josh shakes his head, tapping his thumb against the hard band. “I don’t think she’s suspicious of any of that yet, it’s still just a dream to her.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jake sighs, laying back down in his cot. “Let her figure it out herself.”

It’s silent for a moment except for the crackling of the fire , the conversation coming to a lull.

“We’re going to a party tonight,” Josh mentions through a modest smirk, and he can see his brother perk up with interest. “Oh really?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve been to a few already, just to familiarize myself with the culture of the academy. It’s not a lavish jamboree like we’re used to, but mortals like to have fun too— plenty of spirits, plenty of vices. Princess should have a ball.”

“Well, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Jake quips, flashing a toothy grin that Josh hasn’t seen in a regrettably long time. “She’s never even drank before, has she?”

“Nothing to this extent,” Josh admits. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

☽ ✩ ☾

It wasn’t easy — of course, tonight was the night your aunt wasn’t in the mood for a cup of her evening tea, a steep of soothing herbs that always has her in bed by 9 o’clock sharp. 

“I think I’m going to stay up and knit,” she says to your dismay as you put the pot of water to boil. “It’s getting cold soon, and when I pulled the heavy quilts from the attic earlier today I found that the moths had eaten them to shreds — isn’t that a shame? Must have forgotten the mothballs when I stored them in the spring. Well, I can’t afford brand new ones from Mrs. Mabel this year, I have some yarn to make our own. Would you like to help?”

You purse your lips, tapping your nail anxiously at the edge of the metal stove. “No thanks, not tonight. I have a lot of homework.”

You turn to open the cupboard, slipping the bundle of valerian in your palm as you sift through the carefully labeled tea boxes. 

“I’m still going to make some tea, though. How about black, if you’re wanting to stay up late?” You ask, your heart pounding anxiously for her response.

“Hmm, I suppose with some honey and milk,” she nods before heaving her knitting basket onto the dining table.

“Great,” you grin, relieved she was convinced, lifting the lid to dip the bag into the heavy pot.

You glance back to see your aunt already working vigorously at her needles, making sure she's distracted before slipping the valerian bundle in with the rest of the brew. Caffeinated tea and a heaping of sedative herbs — not your best plan, but you’re hoping for a decent outcome. If anything the reactions will cancel out, and she’ll only softly doze off instead of knock out for days.

A few minutes later and you pour the dark steaming liquid into two cups, one for yourself that you’re preparing to leave untouched on your bedside table, along with splashes of milk and stirs of honey. Your aunt takes her mug gladly, and you revel at the sight of her taking a few hearty gulps.

“Delicious,” she hums, blowing on the steam. “Remind me to get more of this blend at the market.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” you smile as you grab your mug and head towards the stairs.

“Well, I’ll probably be up here the rest of the night,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way over to the stairs, stepping carefully stepping over Lazlo who lounges in his usual spot on the first step. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight my love!” you hear her call back. “I hope you dream sweetly tonight  — none of that nightmare nonsense.”

You smile at her wish, though you know you won't have to worry about that for a while as you make it down the hall and swiftly your door behind you, clanking the mug on the nightstand before rushing into your closet.

“Casual affair…” you repeat Josh’s words to yourself as you sift through your closet.

You decide on a pair of black jeans and a white cable knit sweater, an outfit that allows you to have full agility among the obstacles you’re about to face. After touching up your makeup and stuffing your phone and keys in your back pockets, you pace around your room nervously until the clock is closer to ten. At 9:45 you pull on your denim jacket and heavy black boots and trek quietly to the window that sits in the middle of the far wall of your room.

“Okay,” you sigh to yourself, unlatching its lock and pushing it open, the cold air quickly wafting in.

You take one last glance behind you for good measure, before stepping your foot through the windowsill and landing on the rough surface of roof shingles. You hold the top of the windowsill to steadily pull yourself through, crouching down to slide the window shut once you’ve made it through. 

“Easy,” you praise yourself, before realizing the next part is the most treacherous; sliding down the incline to reach its edge.

You sit on your haunches with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands bent behind you for leverage as you carefully scoot yourself to the edge. It takes maybe a minute at most to get down, even though it feels like an eternity with the gravelly shingles digging into your palms. You panic once you make it to the edge and feel hesitant to jump in such an awkward position. With no other choice, you flip your body around in one swift move, your knees sinking into the wet mass of leaves stuck in your gutter as you prepare to jump.

“Fuck me,” you curse at the icy wetness hitting your skin, pushing them past the edge one by one, your hands now gripping the edge of the gutter as your body dangles along the nearly 8 foot drop.

You don’t even let yourself think too much about letting go, you just do it, bending your knees to break the impact of your boots hitting the soft grass.

You spring up to standing, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath and dust the dirt and debris off yourself before quietly scurrying to your truck, avoiding walking in front of any of your front windows to the best of your ability.

In a blur you make it inside the truck, shutting its door with the lightest slam. It isn’t until you make it to the main road that you let out a sigh of relief, your first escape mission a success.

Before you know it, the tire of your truck skimming the edge of the curb designated the address Josh had sent. You nervously attempt to parallel park, settling on a good enough job in your book, with your right front tire perhaps sticking out a bit for others' likings.

You switch off the ignition and hop out, your breath clouding in the damp cold air that clings to your skin. Your boots scuff against the pavement as you walk up to the respective door, your heart clambering in your chest.

I’m here, you text Josh, too nervous to enter and be greeted by stranger’s faces. A second later, you hear it open, Josh appearing with his eyes heavy and glossed pink, his smile as white as ever.

“Welcome!” he greets, pulling you into a hug.

He smells like something earthy but unfamiliar, the scent sticking to his breath when he continues to speak as you pull away.

“Come in, would you like a drink?”

You feel a pleasant shiver go down your spine. You`ve never been offered a drink, save for the glass of birthday wine.

“I would love one,” you smile, following him down a dark, barren hallway.

The hall leads to a living room, lit only by a string of fairy lights and a lamp in the far corner that glows a deep, dark orange. In the center sits a well-worn leather couch where two couples lounge, a boy and girl chatting on one end, and two boys making out at the other. A few more people are splayed amongst the room, some standing in a little group while chatting and sipping from their red plastic cups, a few others sat around the round bohemian rug that lays in front of the couch, their legs tucked under the glass coffee table on top of it.

“Attention, everyone,” Josh announces, his voice seeming to carry over the others with ease and quiet them instantly.

He introduces you to the group, making sure to mention how this is your first year at Acaber, and does his best to rattle off the names of everyone else, though the nerves of having so many eyes on you prevents you from registering most of them. They all seem very nice, welcoming you with a cheers of their cups.

“Drinks are this way,” he informs, ushering you towards what you soon find in the kitchen.

An array of sodas and juices in colorful bottles are splayed out along one of the countertops, basically all of which you have never tried before as your aunt has an unofficial ban on any artificial products at home. Along the opposite counter is a similar sight, though you recognize their ornate glass bottles as being full of liquor. 

“What’s your drink of choice?” Josh asks, grabbing a red cup from a stack by the sink.

“I have no idea,” you laugh, a bit overwhelmed by all of the options. “I guess whatever you’re having.”

“Right, right,” he says, clearly recalling your lack of experience in the matter. “Well this is just whiskey, and I am positive you will not like it.”

“Oh please,” you quip, taking the cup from him. “I liked the coffee, I can like this too.”

“Alright,” he laughs, an amused smile spread on your lips. “Suit yourself.”

You don’t hesitate to tilt the cup to your lips, the shallow pool of dark liquid pouring into your mouth. Immediately, it stings your nostrils, and it tastes as if you dipped one of the caramel bon bons you get from the shop on the square, except covered in gasoline.

“Agh!” you wince, shoving the cup back to Josh. “That’s awful.“

“I told you,” he giggles. “I don’t say that to be pretentious, it’s just not normally a baby’s first booze kind of drink.”

“I’m sorry,” you blush, feeling a warmth blossom in your throat and chest. “It feels good though.”

“Hell yeah it does,” he says, walking over to the soda counter with your cup. 

“Here, something simple and sweet — rum and Coke.”

He pours a few glugs of Coca-Cola, the pale fizz nearly pouring over the rim, before carrying the cup to the other side, plucking a tall clear bottle with a white cap, the name Bacardi in big letters atop its label. He swirls the mixture in the cup as he walks it over to you, extending it to you with a proud smile.

“Cheers.”

You clink plastic cups, hesitating this time as the drink drips past your lips.

“Mmm,” you hum, your eyes lighting up as you take in the sparkly sweet gulp. “That’s good, like candy.”

Josh hums at your comment, clearly amused.

“You’ve never had a sugar high like this before, kid,” he quips, giving you a wink. 

The pet name catches you off guard, along with how easily it slips off his lips, lacquered with an inflection you’ve never heard from him before.

“Are you high?” you ask, the question blurting out once you notice how his eyes are practically gleaming with a sheen of pink.

He acts offended, placing a defensive hand to his chest.

“Now, I know you’re new to all this,” he says, stepping closer to you. “But surely you know not to ask something so patronizing. How dare you think I’m under the influence.”

He speaks in a cadence as if he’s performing a dramatic acting role, raising his hands to dramatize every other word.

You simply stare at him a moment, unsure of what to say or if you’ve truly offended him, until he bursts into a bout of laughter, his giggles filling you with warm relief.

“I’m just kidding,” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I’m fucking stoned.”

“Oh,” you chuckle back, trying to ignore the fact that he glanced at your lips the moment he learned into your shoulder. “Well I’ve never been stoned before either, but maybe that’ll change too.”

“It will,” he nods with blissfully shut eyes, tapping your shoulder once more before letting go. “Not tonight, but it will.”

“Why not tonight?” you ask as you follow him back into the living room, which has somehow doubled in capacity in just the short period of time you were in the kitchen.

“One vice at a time,” he calls over his shoulder, before slouching onto the couch that’s now half vacant, the two boys still perfectly comfortable lapping at each other's faces.

You try not to be rude but can’t help but look over at them for a second, glancing back at Josh with raised eyebrows.

He gestures to you to lean closer even though you’re still standing, so you simply hover over him, with him looking up at you through heavy lashes.

“Grey and Everett,” he says as he nods to them. “They’re in their own world, we’re used to it. Why condemn the act of love? It’s beautiful and natural.”

You nod back, trying to normalize it yourself. Sure, he has a point.

“So is this all we do?” you ask, stepping back to glance around the ever-filling room. “We just sit around and talk and drink, and…kiss?”

“Sure!” Josh exclaims, suddenly pushing himself back off the couch and raising his hands in the air. “Relishing life's luxuries while we’re young and still have some brain cells to lose. Speaking of — want a shot?”

You ponder the daring request for a moment, glancing down to see that your cup is already almost empty

“Alright,” you say, before finishing off the rest. “Let’s do it.”

☽ ✩ ☾

Much to your delight, you find that you love tequila shots. Dressed with salt and a lime, it’s a delicious mix of sweet, salty, and heat, the burn of the liquor hitting your throat making your cheeks flush and limbs feel loose. You’ve had three so far, and even though Josh is proud of your natural ability to shoot the liquor right down your throat, he warns you to pace yourself.

“It feels great right now,” he says into your ear, yelling over the noise of the room that’s now nearly filled to capacity. “But it hurts in the morning.”

You’re both standing in the corner of the room by a tall potted fiddle leaf, having a brief conversation earlier about how well it appears to be taken care of. It’s a quarter to one, and you have no plans to go home anytime soon. You’re relieved every time you check your phone and don’t have a thread of calls and messages from your aunt, hopefully proving your sleep tea concoction to be a success.

“I want to dance,” you blurt, your limbs tingling with the desire to move.

Josh raises his eyebrows, before promptly setting down his drink on the floor. 

“Say less,” he says, before grabbing your wrist and pushing into the crowd.

You don’t know the song that’s playing, but the beat makes your body vibrate. You’ve never danced outside of the comfort of your bedroom, and you’d be self conscious if it weren’t for the liquid courage currently surging through your veins. You rock your hips side to side, your arms raised and wrists twisting to the rhythm. Your eyes are closed, soaking in the moment when you feel a gentle hand on the small of your back. You open your eyes to Josh, a grin spread in his face as he gently grabs at your waist to pull you closer to him. Your arms fall to land atop his shoulders and his forearm slinks across the small of your back, the pads of his fingers pressed into the plush side of your waist as you both rock to the rhythm. No words are shared, not that they could be even heard over the music, but you share a different kind of nonverbal communication between your bodies that feels deeply intimate. Touching him is electric, your body buzzing with every squeeze he gives to your hips. 

You can’t help but press yourself even closer into him, practically grinding into him as your fingers slide up the nape of his neck before raking through his mess of curls. You feel Josh lean in as your eyes once again shut for a moment, but they shoot open with a gasp when you feel his wet lips against the side of your neck. You instantly melt, the sensation incredible, and you feel a pulse somewhere deep within your core. He pulls away for just a moment before finding a different spot, the next kiss coming with a suction that makes the spot sting deliciously. You tug gently at the roots of his curls signaling you like it, and you swear you feel him smile, the skin below his lips vibrating at the frequency of his muffled chuckle.

He pulls away, lifting his head to look you in the face, his lips pink and swollen. You marvel at them for a moment before glancing up to see his eyes admiring your own lips, and you know what is to come next. You both lean in, your lips barely grazing when a loud banging comes from the entryway and bright beams of light come shining in through the entrance windows.

“Shit, not again,” you hear Josh curse among other distressed voices in the room, many of the people around you retreating into deeper rooms within the house.

Though the bright light and authoritative voices coming from behind the door are threatening, you recognize that you aren’t as concerned as you maybe should be, giggling to nothing in particular as you cling onto Josh’s arm.

“C’mon,” he tells you right as the music turns off, and you stumble behind him as he leads the way past the kitchen and into another darker room, still having your arm gripped around tightly to his bicep.

After a few moments in the pitch black, simply trusting Josh keeps you from slamming into a table or other obstacle, you make it to another door, its curtained window glowing a moonlit violet. He twists the knob slowly, the wood creaking as the door leaves its frame, and you see his silhouette motion for you to walk through.

“Shhh,” he scolds as you begin to giggle once the two of you cross the yard into a small patch of woods behind the house. “They’ll be here for a bit, we have to wait it out.”

You both stop at the trunk of one of the larger trees, Josh leaning against it as he observes the direction you both just came from.

“I’m cold,” you complain with a slurred, pouty voice as you rub your hands together frantically, having ditched your jacket inside at some point.

“Here,” Josh says, before grabbing your hands and folding them together.

He then proceeds to place them to his lips, inhaling deep breath before blowing it between your palms to warm them. You can’t help but let out a loud cackle at the gesture, and Josh suddenly pulls you forward and into him.

“You can’t do that,” he says, trying to be serious even though a laugh grazes his voice. “They might come outside, or the neighbors will call in another noise complaint on top of the one they’ve already clearly made.”

“I’m sorry,” you blush, your whole body weight leaning against him and the tree.

“How are you so warm?” you ask, feeling his hands that still remain wrapped around yours. “It’s like you’re by a fire, not standing in 20 degree weather.”

He shrugs, letting his thumbs brush against the tops of your hands.

“I’m warm bodied, I guess.”

You both continue to stand there for a few minutes, ducking around the other side of the thick tree once you hear the back door open and flashlights shine across the yard. Eventually the sound of their cruiser doors slamming shut echos from the other side of the house, their headlights casting across the front line of trees as they drive away. Josh holds out a patient finger for a few more beats to make sure the coast is clear before he relaxes himself with a sigh.

“Alright,” he says, looping your arm around his. “Let’s get you home.”

☽ ✩ ☾

You don’t remember how you ended up perfectly tucked under the covers of your bed, or when you changed into your pajamas, but it’s the state you find yourself in once you awake the next morning. You groan at the first throb of a pounding headache, squinting as you reach for where you left your mug of tea the night before even though cold tea is the last thing you wanted to drink. Your eyes open when your hand wraps around a tall glass instead, realizing it’s fully filled with water. You look over to see a bottle of ibuprofen sitting beside it, two pills already sitting on its lid.

You struggle to sit up higher to grab the pills and swallow them down with several big gulps of water, looking around your room, trying your hardest to recall the majority of your night. It comes back in bits and pieces; the tequila shots, the dancing, Josh’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You put your hand to the spot that’s still lingering with a soft ache, the skin raised and sensitive, and you feel your cheeks flush thinking about how good his touch felt. You never understood how a pain could feel pleasurable, but this was it, and you can’t help but push on the fragile skin to feel the sting just a bit more. 

Your memory is completely black after a blurry image of you in the woods, shivering and pressed closely into Josh as he waited for the police to leave. Your heart lurches at the fact that you couldn’t have possibly driven yourself home, and you fly out of bed to get a look outside your window that faces the driveway, pulling the curtains open even though the stark brightness blinds you for a moment.

To your deep relief you find that your truck is parked in the exact spot it’s always in, sitting right behind your aunt’s old buggy that she rarely touches.

The mystery of how you ended up home, and if Aunt Edith caught you and you’re grounded for eternity still stands, and your anxiety crawls right back into your stomach as you reach for your phone to text Josh.

Luckily his name is already in the thread of notifications once you turn it on, and you anxiously click it.

Call me when you wake up, his text says.

Everything is okay.

You dial his number, your heart still pounding as the ringer beeps.

“Good morning, princess,” you hear him smile through the phone, and you blush at the pet name, though your anxiety doesn’t give you much time to acknowledge it any further.

“Everything’s alright?” you ask, still not convinced. “Aunt Edith didn’t wake up, you-?”

“Yes, everything is totally fine,” he assures with a chuckle. ”Never heard a thing from your aunt, the house was silent except for a few stumbles and giggles coming from you. You were very adamant to do your skincare and change into comfy clothes.”

You blush deeper, too embarrassed to ask if he helped you in any way.

“But my car?” you decide to ask instead, walking back over to the window to look at it once more. “How-?”

“I had some friends help,” he explains. “They were sober and drove us and the car home. Everything is alright, okay? You made it home without a hitch.”

“Okay,” you say, letting out the breath you realize you’ve been holding.

The line goes quiet for a second before he speaks again. “So did you have a good time? Did you need the pain meds this morning?”

“I did, and yes,” you reply, cracking a smile and fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleep shirt. “It was amazing — everything I could’ve hoped for, but perhaps minus the headache. Did you enjoy it?”

“Hell yeah,” he says. “Best night I’ve had in a while.”

He pauses again, and you can hear him inhale before he speaks. 

“Is—uh, is your neck alright? I’m sorry if I got a little—“

“No, it’s fine,” you laugh, your whole body buzzing at the fact that he remembered what had happened. “I actually haven’t even looked at it…”

You walk over to your mirror and lift the phone from your ear momentarily to get a glimpse of it, your eyes widening at the deep red splotch stained onto your neck. You press your fingertip into it again, the red specks of broken blood vessels disappearing for a brief second with the pressure, before returning a deeper purple once it’s removed.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say back into the phone, a bit shocked by how dark and obvious it is.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and you can hear the concern in his voice. 

“No it doesn’t, don’t worry. It’s a bit noticeable, but I have some arnica flower,” you assure him, having used it for a scrape you got in the garden a few months ago. “Please Josh, don’t worry about it.”

You admire the rest of yourself in the mirror, and how sexy it feels to have a reminder of the night before, even though you’re going to have to hide it before you even leave your room.

“It felt good,” you think to yourself, and you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud until you hear Josh huff a laugh into the receiver.

“Tequila makes everything feel good,” he quips, and you want to ask him to elaborate when you hear the steps of the staircase down to the hall creak with your aunt’s heavy footsteps.

“Shit, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later,” you tell him quickly before ending the call, shutting your curtains and running back to your bed.

You’re fully nestled under the covers with your head turned from the door as it begins to creak open.

“You’re sleeping in late,” you hear Aunt Edith say, and you act as though she’s awoken you, letting out a sleepy yawn and stretch.

“Stayed up really late studying,” you tell her, sitting up as she hands you a cup of tea. “Got it all done so I can enjoy the rest of my weekend.”

“Oh, you have plans?” she asks, walking over to fully open your curtains, the bright white light shining in.

“Well, not particularly,” you say before taking a sip of tea. “We’re due for a farmer’s market trip, aren’t we? The vintage booth I really like is there today, and I’d like a few more sweaters for school.”

“We can do that,” your aunt replies, smiling at you.

She looks cheerier than normal, her round face glowy.

“Did you have a nice night?” you ask her, pulling your legs out of the covers and slipping on your house shoes.

“I did, got sleepy by around ten so I abandoned my knit—“ she begins, but stops suddenly when you lean over to set your tea down on your nightstand.

“Oh no, honey,” she says, suddenly sounding deeply concerned. “What happened to your neck?”

Your blood runs cold, completely forgetting to hide your neck from her even though you were just discussing its state moments ago. You try your best to play dumb, giving her a questioning look.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your hand grabbing for the front of your throat rather than the side.

“No, over here,” she says, before going over to you to get a better look herself. “You have an awful bruise, go look in the mirror.”

You furrow your brow, walking over to the mirror and letting out a gasp.

“I have no idea,” you try your best to fib, staring at the wound wide-eyed through the mirror. “I had a dry patch there yesterday and I was itching it, I guess I scratched it raw.”

“Well, let me go get you something to soothe it, some aloe,” she says, rushing to the door. “Go to the bathroom and rinse it with some warm water.

“Okay,” you call back, getting up from your bed to meet your aunt in the kitchen. “I have arnica flowers in the cabinet, that may help too!”

You smile as you walk to your door, proud of yourself getting away with something so salacious.

Just as you’re about to walk through the doorway, you notice a tiny flicker of light coming from atop the dresser to your right. You focus on the source, and between a vase of dried bouquet of roses and a rabbit figurine you see a small tea light, its wick burning a deep auburn flame. Your face drops to a confused frown, and you walk over to it. The wax below the wick is fully melted and halfway evaporated, meaning it must have been lit hours ago. You glance around your room as if you’ll find any hints why or how it was lit, because surely your aunt did not do it — she always scolds you for leaving candles burning for more than a few hours. When you ultimately find nothing, you decide to simply extinguish the flame, dabbing the pad of your index finger on your tongue and snuffing it, the flame vanishing in an instant. You rub the smooth ash between your fingertip and thumb as you set the candle back down, staring at the tepid pool of amber liquid for a beat more before turning and continuing to descend down the hall.

☽ ✩ ☾

Her skin tasted so sweet, like cherry wine sucked between his teeth. She lingered on his lips for hours after he left her, after he switched a matchstick from his back pocket and ignited a cluster of brambles, her lapse in consciousness blinding her from asking any questions as to why he’s starting a fire in the middle of the woods. With a whisper of a spell, they were transported from the woods to the closest flame she had to her house, a barrel fire in a homeless commune a few blocks away. He was amused by the looks of bewilderment the vagrants gave him when they emerged from the flames, but he paid them no mind, hitching her over his shoulder and trekking the rest of the way on foot.

After managing to get up her roof and back through the window of her bedroom, he rested her limp body gently onto her bed, not a single creak coming from its wooden frame. He stood up and took a moment to the room, breathing in her scent, having waited so long to finally be in this house. He walked over to the opposite side of her room where a long cabinet sat against the wall, and it took him no time to find a candle among her assortment of trinkets and treasures atop it, a small tea light that gave him just enough time for his pyromancy.

Lighting it with another match from his book, Josh grabs the candle and carefully walks over to her bedside. He meditates in his intentions for a moment before taking a deep breath, shutting his eyes, and waving the flame once over the top of her body. When his eyes open, she’s in a cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, her feet bare. He shuffles back over to the cabinet and delicately sifts through its drawers, finding a pair of wool socks that he gently pulls up to her ankles. He then lifts her body from the bed to pull back the thick blankets, nestling her in the crevice of the sheets and tucking them under her chin. 

He didn’t want to leave yet, and decided to take the time to remove the darkness around her eyes and her rosied cheeks himself, grabbing a tissue and pot of lavender balm from her nightstand. Dipping the fine paper into the thick substance, he gently rubbed her face clean, the smell of the flower sweetening the air. She looked beautiful when she slept, her chest gently rising and falling with steady breaths, her eyelids dancing with dreams she’d surely forget in the morning because he wasn’t there to let her remember.

He left her room an hour later, leaving the candle lit to continue admiring her from a distance, the flame remaining a gateway between his reality and hers.

Now he watches as she scurries out of bed, and how frantic she is to call him.

“Everything is fine,” he assures as she worries her lip, glancing out her window at the truck once more.

It wasn’t an easy feat — he’d never driven a vehicle before, taking the flaming route to wherever he needed in the mortal world, but he managed to get it there all in one piece and without any suspicions from others on the road.

He knows she liked it, but he asks concerned questions about her neck anyway. He melts at her parapraxis, a smile curving his lips as he watches her study herself in the mirror. 

He had to do it — to tease her into the idea of deviance. He’s known of deities who force their power unto their quarries, who thrust their phallus and abuse their power in favor of a selfish gain, but he’s vowed to never be like them. She will be seduced, as no enchantress of vestal virginity has ever been successful in her sorcery, but it will be by her own volition. It’s already painful enough that he’s had to avoid the real reason for his presence in her life thus far, any more pain and he’ll simply have to admit himself to the gates of hell, joining his brother to burn for eternity.

To his delight, her warden falls for her endearing performance of pretending to be unaware of the mark. He chuckles at the faux look of shock and horror she puts on, catching the flash of pride in her smile when she’s at once left alone.

Though he wishes he could watch her forever, he revels in the moment she discovers the flame burning, her beautiful face engulfing his entire line of vision for a split second before everything goes black.

[randomvarious]

Ciao Italia: Live from Italy by Madonna 1988 Pop / Dance-Pop

Folks, I've got a full concert video for you all today, and it's one of the greatest performers in the history of popular music, the Queen of Pop herself, Madonna, rocking a pair of stages in front of absolutely massive crowds in the country of her lineage, Italy, while closing out the final leg of her revolutionary debut Who's That Girl world tour in 1987. Her sets would grow to become far more elaborate than this one, but what she was doing here, which she termed as "Broadway in a stadium," was something the likes of which no one had ever really seen before. Madonna's set had pageantry, choreography, multimedia, and so much coordination that really conceptually expanded on the ideas of what a concert could be, which was a lot more than just someone merely playing some of their songs for an audience. Ciao Italia is a full package; a carefully constructed and extensively planned 100-minute spectacle of what was unparalleled vivacity at that time.

Throughout this show, which appears to actually be a full set spliced together from two different concert dates, Madonna goes through a bunch of costume changes while re-creating some of the vibes from a bunch of her songs' own music videos. Notably, she doesn't actually take a single break in order to change into and out of any of those outfits, though, until she comes back to kick off her encore with "La Isla Bonita" in a red flamenco dress. Madonna may leave the stage for a quick second, or jump into a suddenly appearing phone booth, but for those few fleeting moments that she's not actually visible, the anticipation for her to return as a different character builds.

My only real gripe here is that, because the music is performed by a live band in an enormous stadium, the sound really isn't nearly as crisp or enjoyable as the original studio recordings themselves. But that's also probably to be expected with a show that was taped at a large outdoor venue over 35 years ago and was then pressed to VHS. However, with this sacrifice in overall sound quality also comes some excellent shots of the seemingly endless crowd too, who, against Pope John Paul II's own wishes—to whom Madonna dedicates "Papa Don't Preach"—adoringly came out to bear witness to her own brilliance as a tireless showwoman. And just like a Broadway show, there is way more to take in from this whole presentation than just the music anyway, which was an idea that Madonna really seemed to start to pioneer with this whole tour in the first place.

Now, by today's standards, a set like this from such an eminent superstar might seem a tad quaint, but understand two things here: Madonna's shows would go on to evolve greatly from this one, and most importantly, a lot of what you've seen on stage from a litany of pop princesses and divas that have sprung up since can be traced back to the innovative nature of this iconic tour itself. And this video is well worth a rainy day watch in order for us all to appreciate that fact 😊.

[summercreolefanfictioner]

Tell us about Kanato x Maya ship😭

Like sis we want details hahaha

their romance is like if haunted dark bridal met dark fate with a sprinkle of chaos lineage vampire end and heaven scenarios

the purple freak and the doll with the name of true love || kanato and maya relationship

(a view from the cheap seats)

TW: nsfw, violence

mistaking a sadist prince for a savior. contrary to the belief of all sakamaki bros that subaru was the first person to find maya, it was actually kanato. in fact, she was hiding in a forest near the sakamaki manor when kanato burned the vampire hunter who was chasing after her. he didn't exactly save her and she feared he would take her life afterward. but nah, kanato just walked away, smirking evilly that "the food will come to us… eventually."

indulging in a play by play of slowburn. although there are times kanato and maya communicate through words, they prefer non-verbal cues. brushing fingers against each other while eating. subtly making eye contact and wanting the other to guess what goes on in their mind. observing each other from afar and planning how they can manipulate the situation in their hands. the latter is mostly the case for kanato bcos he doesn't want to make it look like he's making the first move. prick

abandoning the words of love. kanato finds it quite ironic that maya's real name (mariya) is written as true love. but even if that was the case, he rarely tells her the words of "I love you." he mostly tells her "the moon is lovely" (just like his confession to her) bcos it's subtle and fitting for a Japanese girl.

venturing a touch on several occasions. although maya is not the touchy-feely type, she actually doesn't mind kanato touching her in various instances. like when he's purposely holding her hands whenever she hands him something or when she's doing her homework and he wanted to play with her free hand. sometimes he would hug her out of nowhere or simply intertwine her fingers with his because he is asserting his husband role like that.

assuring the other is not trapped in an insane paradox. maya is already a patient person, and that patience has been constantly tested with kanato overtime. after all, he would have hysterical fits after overthinking possible scenarios of maya trying to leave him even though that is highly impossible bcos of their political marriage. but sometimes, kanato would have dreams of that night when maya fell from the balcony bcos of her apparitions during her incomplete awakening so he would always enclose her in a tight hug, ensuring she won't have the power to leave. kanato she's a vampire pls as if she doesn't have the strength

giving soft kisses to one another. ngl but whenever kanato kisses maya, she starts to think he's a different person compared to the usual sadistic and hysteric purple gremlin that she met. he always makes sure to touch both sides of her face as he leans in for a kiss, capturing her lips in a way that makes her dream of rainbows, unicorns, and fluff. and he would do that to her many times as she gets drunk in a mess of pleasure and pain.

going on silly "juvenile" dates. maya's dates with kanato always involve "sweet things" so they would mostly have tea parties, relax at the nearby cafe, eat at a desserts buffet, look around dollhouses, play dress up games in boutiques and take secret pictures in the changing booth—basically any activity that sounds couple-y to them.

telling words of praise. it's actually surprising that kanato loves to praise maya's aesthetics, especially when he is in a good mood (which is super rare). he would tell her how beautiful she is with her long dark hair and pale skin and deadpan expression as if she was "death" herself. there are even times he makes dresses for her so she could become his living version of a doll from one of his glass coffins. snow white reference, I know.

reenacting romance manga scenes. maya is not maya without her penchant for romance mangas. and much to kanato's dismay, he obliges with her romance fantasies. going as far as saying "be grateful I'm being merciful to you for forcing me to do this." tbh kanato even uses this info to 'bribe' her into doing some of his bidding, especially when she's mad at him (ngl maya purposely makes him do this bcos she wants to reenact these scenes w/o directly asking him).

threading with both pain and pleasure. ofc falling in love with kanato comes with experiencing his hellish tantrums and sadistic punishments and although it may not appear like it, maya secretly likes being punished by him. after all, enduring gruesome training and physical endurance as a vampire doll led her to be numbed abt pain in general. hence she loved how kanato would try to bind her hands, choke her neck, trace his knife on her pale skin, and leave gruesome bite marks. the thing is, this doesn't happen often bcos kanato doesn't want to succumb to her greatest desires.

knowing the person behind the alias. kanato has always known maya's name by invading her memories, reminding her of who she was before he finally turned her. that's why he often calls her by her given name every time they're alone, or when he's loving her with every filthy thing he has to offer. he would chant her name like a spell as they near ecstasy, secretly telling her that "you are mine to love and break."

having each other's backs at crime. you think love is enough to stop these two from killing other people? no. that would never happen. maya is always ordered by karlheinz to dispose either a human or a creature from makai from distorting the balance. kanato still hunts humans out there and shares them with her. they even got the habit of pranking their classmates who try to bully one of them by almost sending them to their death and giving them amnesia. basically, their stained hands are in deep sht together.

The faint moonlight outside Kanato's bedroom window was sufficient to illuminate Maya's resting figure, the heavy blanket concealing only her naked body after she passed out from one of their passionate and heavy lovemaking sessions. Kanato was stunned by how serene his wife looked, as if she had never seen this world's brutality and horrific suffering. And when he kissed her lips, she smiled subtly at the contact, and for once, he was satisfied that his Maya-san was having a pleasant dream.

No. She's not Maya-san. She's Mariya. Hisae Mariya.

"Mariya-san," he whispered her name, his sickly sweet voice pronouncing it with precision and ease. He still believes that name doesn't suit her, but she is Mariya, and everything she has is his to keep and trample on.

He tucked some strands of her hair behind her ear and smiled.

"The moon is lovely, Mariya-san. I hope you never forget."

Because I won't… for eternity.

[dndwithaerin]

Part 9 - A Fair to Remember

Over a month had passed.  The school semester drawing to a close, ushering in the Midsommar Festival.  A week of rest and relaxation to signify the halfway point of the calendar year, ushered in by a day of revelry, Midsommar’s Fair.  A day for the nobility of Balouise to revel in their wealth, to enjoy food, games, rides, but most importantly, to see and be seen.  Capped off in the evening by the illustrious Senator’s Ball, to which our heroines had received invitations, owing to their respective lineages.

The Tenser clan arrived, Orlaith in tow, to the fair in a veritable parade of carriages, each levitating on its own spectral disk, providing as smooth a ride as possible.  The Lord Ernest Tenser VIII emerged first, hand in hand with the Lady Carol, no doubt eager to once again make an attempt at the grand game of politics.  In the second carriage, Ernest IX and his lovely wife, Cynthia, still very pregnant, garbed in blacks and reds of the finest fabrics, hardly suiting the warm summer’s day, but appearing cool and collected, nonetheless.  

And from the final car stepped forth the young ladies Laura Tenser, characteristically poised and proper, and Orlaith El, rather uncharacteristically put together, having been insisted upon by Yuri that her normal ill-fitting robes and unkempt dark hair may be ill-suited to the occasion.  Both garbed in light, airy, summer dresses, they stepped forth from the carriage, into the warm summer morning.

Arriving together, yet immediately separating, the girls found their attention drawn to the midway, games of skill promising prizes both mundane and magical, grandest among them, a tabard of purple and gold, revealing to the trained eye a magical aura, fetching the price of fifty prize tokens.  Laura’s goal was set.  She needn’t know the nature of the magic, only that it was, and that she would very much like to study it.

The first game the pair took to was simple, target shooting with air rifles, with which Laura found herself quite the natural, collecting a handful of prize tokens before she heard a familiar voice calling out to her from across the way.  Sean had been conspicuous in his recent absences from school, returning only just in time to take his final exams, and it was apparent in in his appearance that at the very least he had not been sleeping well.  There was some urgency in his voice as he ushered the two off to the side, between two of the stalls.

He first explained he would be playing a show that evening accompanied by David Dinkleberg, which was a shock in itself as Laura had heard no shortage of Sean’s gripes concerning the gnome.  To hear him speak on it, they could never see eye to eye on anything, so the concept of the two cooperating was incredibly unusual.  But more importantly, there was a matter he wanted their assistance with afterward.  Details were sparse, only that Laura and Orlaith were to meet him at the gates of the city at ten o’clock that evening.  The only grain of information Sean offered, was a mysterious piece of bark he asked Laura to examine.  Not much was to be gleaned, however.  It was definitely magical, containing some sort of healing property, but nothing of where it came from, or how it had come in to Sean’s possession.

Nevertheless, the girls required no convincing to help their friend, only hoping that they would be able to get away from their own engagement in time.

Having exhausted the patience of the operator of the target shooting booth, Laura and Orlaith moved on, choosing to take a break from games, and directed their attention toward the rides.  They had just disembarked from a delightful miniature train ride, full of twists and turns at high speed.  Struggling to reorient herself following the dizzying experience, Laura clumsily stumbled into an unaware patron.

Little did she know, she had bumped into a familiar face, at least to Orlaith.  Marisa Ansling, investigative reporter for the LeStrand Herald, notorious gossipmonger, and all-around busybody.  Despite their sudden, percussive introduction, she seemed absolutely delighted to meet the one and only Laura Tenser, as she had only managed to receive comment from Orlaith following their now infamous duel.

Ansling was enthusiastic in her questioning, delighted to finally meet another member of the team that had bested Tomas Straid, though she failed to notice the deathly shadows looming behind her.  Not so subtly clearing his throat, the realization that Straid himself was directly behind her nearly sent Ansling in to shock, all but leaping to take cover behind Orlaith.  Accompanying Tom was the elder Straid, Degratia.  As Tom bared his fangs, insisting emphatically that the result had been a fluke, a firm hand fell on his shoulder.

The elder Straid snapped at the metaphorical leash he held over his progeny, and Tom yielded nearly instantly, cutting his words short and recoiling.  Degratia was quick to apologize for his son’s outburst, hoping for it not to be seen as a slight against Houses Tenser or El, and expressing his own pleasure in meeting the two that had knocked Tom down a peg.  The pleasantries were quick, and it was only as they left that Tom spoke once more, requesting a rematch, this time one-on-one with whomever was willing.  Both Laura and Orlaith were happy to accept.  Having received a glimpse into the life of Tom Straid, Laura wished him farewell with a remark of sympathy that seemed to catch him off guard.

“Don’t sweat it, I know what it’s like to be under your father’s thumb.”

A few games and a few prize tokens later, the duo found themselves famished. The options for food seemed endless, skewers of roast potatoes, sausage sandwiches, fried pastries and sweets.  One stall in particular caught Laura’s attention, owing mostly to the unorthodox name of its offering, “Bloodmeat.”  A meat pie of sorts, within contained thin slices of bloody rare lamb.  Surprisingly, quite enjoyable, delicious in fact!  

While stopped to enjoy their lunch, Laura and Orlaith spotted another familiar face through the crowd, a feat given his small stature.  David Dinkleberg, Sean’s gnomish gnemesis.  They learned from David that he and Sean would indeed be performing that night, though the key detail Sean had either left out or was ignorant of himself, was that they would be playing for the Senator’s Ball!  A truly massive opportunity for the both of them, to be sure, as they’d play in front of the most important people the city had to offer.  Knowing that, the girls wished him all the best, hoping Sean and David would be able to cooperate.

A couple more hours and many, many games later, Laura finally caught sight of the one man she had had her eye out for all day.  Will Mercier.  Catching only a glimpse of him as he effortlessly weaved through the crowd, she gave chase immediately, leaving Orlaith to collect the last of their tokens from a dart throwing game.

Laura finally caught up to him, coming to a stop near a shaded table behind many of the stalls.  There he was conversing with Cynthia, his sister and Laura’s sister-in-law, and another girl, to whom Laura had not yet been acquainted.  She approached the table with a slight wariness, though was greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by Cynthia.  The younger looking girl was introduced as Cohen, daughter of the Mercier clan, and a savant in the world of banking and money management.

But Laura was not there to speak with them, nor to make new friends.  The wedding loomed large in her mind, and she was seeking Will for a potential way out.  He ushered her in to an ornate door, very out of place against the makeshift wall on the rear of a carnival stall.  Through the door, no sound from outside could be heard.  The space within lavish, with fine furnishings and dim lighting, as though they had stepped in to another world, far away from the amusements.

Laura attempted to get directly to the point.  She wanted out, and she wanted to know if Will had any suggestions that may help achieve that goal, to which she was pressed on questions of her own conviction.  What did she wish to achieve in calling off the wedding that she could not otherwise?  What would she do with her life, if it were wholly her own?  And also, if her decision had been swayed by knowledge of the spell, Gate?  Though she did not betray her source of information on that matter.  

Laura’s goals were as they always were.  She wished to become a wizard spoken of in legends, in tales of renown for generations to come, and unfortunately, should she be wed, the only future she saw for herself was to fade to obscurity, a general’s wife, a footnote.

There was a potential solution, though it would come at a great cost, and would require a greater amount of consideration.  Will began with a tale.  A tale of creatures spoken of only in fables and church tales.  Creatures that once roamed the land freely, so they say, free to hunt and feed as they pleased.  Creatures allegedly exterminated by the legendary Saint Albain.

His offer to her was power.  His power.  The power of his blood.  He offered her the embrace, to become like him.  To become… a vampire.

As he would explain, the Mercier clan were not related by blood, at least, not in the traditional sense.  The blood they shared was of a more supernatural sort, passed from sire to childe, along with great power.  Her brother had become one of them as well, finally putting to words the “affliction” of which Will himself had spoken, though his embrace was imperfect, done in haste only after they had learned of Cynthia's pregnancy, not sanctioned by the elder Mercier.  A matter for another time though.  Hers would be done entirely above board, should she so choose.

He proceeded to demonstrate the powers afforded by the potency of his blood.  Setting his sunglasses on the table, revealing his crimson red eyes for the first time, the gleam mesmerizing her, a stronger force than any enchantment Laura had encountered thus far.  With a simple phrase, “Would you please” his commands became irresistible.  Laura found herself compelled to rise from her chair, walk calmly around to the other side of the table, and allow Will to place a cold hand on her neck, caressing the arteries.  If he wanted to feed from her, she was in no position to refuse.

Laura was unnerved, but not fearful, as Will’s words up to then had not lead her to believe he meant her harm.  His grip loosened and he allowed her to return to her seat, assuring her she was never in any danger.  She trusted him, for better or worse.  It was a decision that could not be made lightly.  One that could not be taken back.  And one that not even he could guarantee would achieve the desired result, but maybe offered a better chance than anything else.

Will did not expect an answer immediately, nor was Laura prepared to give one, assuring she would explore all other available options before accepting his offer.  With her newfound knowledge, she made her way out of the room, Will ushering in his “sisters” as she left.

Orlaith had been making small talk with the girls, and once Laura emerged, was glad to tell her she had obtained the final prize token.  The magic tabard was theirs, but there were much greater matters on Laura’s mind.  Matters of grave importance.

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[thanatosangels]

the Life of Lucie

Lucie Herondale au request by @daisyherxndale - thank you so much!! this was so fun to write!! <3

tagging: @churchthecatismyspiritanimal @fairchild-squad @truth-lies-hidden @princesslucretia @abigneignenn <333

Lucie was never quite sure why she didn’t age and die.

James did. She supposed he was always more like Papa though, in looks and personality. 

She’d never forget him dying. She’d already lost Cordelia the year before, and the emptiness in her soul was still a ragged, open wound. And then James had taken ill. He lay in the infirmary of the Institute, and Uncle Jem did everything he could to save him but they could only numb the pain. She had sat with her still youthful hand holding his wrinkled one, their mother holding his other on the opposite side of the bed. He had been so frail then, but still blazing with his playful exuberance until the very end. He died, surrounded by love. As Will had done.

And Jesse… Jesse’s death was still too much for her too think about

She’d watched the love of her life, the one she’d brought back to this life, grow old and fragile until he died peacefully in her arms. She’d watched as time took over his features in a way that it never did to hers, as he’d retired from battle due to the aching of bones that she never experienced, as he started to forget where he’d left his glasses, or that their children had left home years before, when she remembered everything so clearly. She never loved him any less. One cold, wintery morning, when frost dusted the grass and the robins wittered just outside the window, she awoke nestled into him, just as cold as the air outside, in their bed.

It was like someone cutting canvas with a knife, clean and vicious: there was life before Jesse, and there was life after.

It was all something of a blur, the week following his death. The funeral, the kind but distant words, the looks on their children’s faces. She understood, only then, why her mother had left for Paris after her father’s death. There was something so inherently wrong about being somewhere your love had once been, once sat, once ate, once laughed. She couldn’t even look at the face of her grandson, the one who had his eyes and his hair. She just had to leave.

So she did. She went, and she found her mother, and they lived together in New York.

She’d never aged a day past twenty, but that didn’t mean she would never die. She half-expected - half-hoped - to go to bed one day and never wake up. But everyday she saw the sun rise and heard the chirping of the pigeons and smelt that early morning New York river-water smell and watched the mundanes hurry down the streets on their way to work. She envied them. They were so secure in their knowledge of the word, wrapped up in their own little lives. She was so lost, an anchor cut free of its ship, sinking rapidly to the bottom of the pitch black ocean.

The rest of the 60’s passed like water through Lucie’s fingers. Tessa helped her through her grief, made sure she ate enough and drank enough and made her laugh even when she felt like her heart was being crushed into oblivion by grief’s unyielding fist. Her mother showed her New York, told her stories of the city she once knew and loved, and of how it had changed. Her mam had seen a great deal since Will’s death, Lucie realised, and a small fire of hope ignited itself in her chest. I will rebuild myself.

One day, a few years after Jesse, they sat in the booth of a small, dingy diner. They made idle conversation, people watching and giggling as they often did, until Tessa sat back against the red leather seat and stared thoughtfully into her coffee. Lucie recognised the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the one that meant she was trying to decide whether to say something or not.

“Mam, what are you thinking?” Lucie narrowed her eyes.

Tessa looked at her, her big blue eyes soft with love, and smiled a sad little smile. “I think you need to write again.”

Lucie was taken aback. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

She thought of the only time she’d tried to write since Jesse. It was a dark night, not long after she arrived in America, and she was sitting at the small, ink-stained desk in their two bedroom apartment, fingers hovering over the keys of the familiar typewriter she’d brought with her from England. Writing had always been her reprieve, fiction her escape from the crushing reality of the real world, and she wanted nothing more than to escape then. But no words came to her. No stories weaved themselves together in her head. No heroine painting herself to life in metaphors and similes. There was simply…. nothing. 

Lucie tried to think of typing out a story, or writing another book, without having Jesse to read it over and give her critique or chastise her for saying ‘very’ one too many times. She tried to imagine writing for hours on end without having him bring her cups of tea just the way she liked or staying up, reading in the armchair next to her desk until well past midnight, just so they could go to bed together. She remembered the air leaving her lungs as a scream of anger - at the world, at Jesse for leaving her, at herself for still being alive - built within her, her mother running to restrain her as she viciously  punching the keys of the typewriter over and over again, her hands balled into fists and her nails piercing the skin of her palms. She had collapsed against Tessa, the livid energy suddenly leaving her, and they sank to the floor together. She cried into her mothers arms until she had no tears left, until the hazy relief of sleep took her in its grasp and showed her dreams far better than this life.

“No.” Her mouth was in a hard line. “No, I can’t.”

Tessa took Lucie’s hand across the table. Lucie met her eyes. There was such hope, such faith, such belief, in her gaze that Lucie’s mouth quirked up at the corner ever so slightly.

“Yes you can.”

And she did.

Lucie left New York - left her mother - as the new decade rolled in. She didn’t stay in one place: she followed her Daisy’s footsteps and went to all the places she’d once lived: Paris, Bombay, Morocco, Cape Town, Canada. All the while, she wrote. She wrote of the girl with fire for hair and more strength than anyone she’d ever known. She wrote of the boy with the sun in his eyes and the night sky on his head. She wrote of the boy who lived twice but loved once. She wrote of the boy with burnt clothes and lilac eyes. She wrote of the truest love she’d ever known, between a boy with a compass tattoo and a boy with spears in his pockets. She wrote of a blonde boy, the bloodied and battered angel. She wrote every story that lined her heart and her soul, and as the 70’s faded into the 80’s, she was thankful she had. Her mother had told her memories start to fade to black and white, like a forgotten photograph, when you live forever, but her words captured her memories forever in their original, colourful glory. 

She spoke to her mother as often as she could, and she always sent her postcards from her latest destination. Her mother would travel too, and she would keep Lucie up to date on the Downworld wherever she went. Lucie kept away from the Downworld, mostly. She had no interest in fighting any more, and the Clave seemed to have forgotten her existence, but she did carry a small axe in her bag at all times. Old habits die hard. 

At the start of the 90’s, she got word from Tessa about unrest surrounding the Accords.

I feel as though we are about to witness something terrible. She had written. Lucie, please stay as far away from Idris as you can. 

And she did.

It was a long few months before she heard from her mother again. She told her of the war, and the bloodshed, and the death. She told her of Stephen Herondale, their own flesh and blood, killing innocent Downworlders as if there were no demon blood in his lineage. Lucie had cried.

But life goes on, and it did. Lucie went back to London, for the first time. She walked passed the Institute that had once been her home, and the grand houses that had once belonged to her friends and family - now hotels or flats or just gone completely, as if they’d never stood at all. She took a trip to Devon to walk past Cirenworth Hall. She felt closer to Cordelia, in that moment, than she had in years, and the faded parabatai rune on her chest seemed to throb like the beating of a second heart.

In 1999, she went back to New York. She walked passed the Institute there too - although by chance this time - and caught sight of three people walking towards the entrance. There was an elegant woman with black hair down to her waist, just as her Aunt Cecily’s had been; a tall, burly man who’s stature painfully reminded her of Thomas; and a small baby, wriggling in his mother’s arms. He seemed to sense Lucie’s presence and twisted around to look at her. His eyes, his hair, his nose, even his tiny mouth…. he looked exactly like Alexander had, when he was a baby and she was just a girl. She tore her eyes away, the world a smudge of watercolour through her tears, and hurried on down the street.

More time passed. Lucie wrote another book, this one about a girl with long brown hair and sparkling grey eyes who would never die. She would live to see every sunrise, every sunset, every star in the night sky twinkle and die, everyone she ever loved go where she could not join them. But she could also read every book, and see every country, and learn every language she ever wanted to, and see every new wonder of the world. She could keep her loved ones with her and carry them wherever she went, both in her mind and captured in the battered old photographs that were her most prized possession.

2008. Lucie’s phone buzzed on the coffee table next to her. She was in Glasgow. The setting sun was casting long shadows across her little one bedroom flat as she had her head in a book, her newly cropped hair brushing against her chin. She’d spent quite a bit of time here: it felt like London, but not so much that it hurt her, just enough to feel like home. The historical buildings that were scattered around the city centre reminded her of herself, in a way. Their well-kept exteriors remained the same as they had been the hundred or so years ago when they were built, but their interiors were updated and changed over time, revealing new secrets or harbouring new treasures.

She picked up her pink mobile and looked at the text that flashed across the screen. Then, with the swiftness that a Shadowhunter can never quite lose, she jumped over the back of her sofa and darted into her bedroom. Hastily, she shoved some clothes into a backpack, grabbed her wallet and keys and ran out the door. She hurried through the streets, not paying attention to who or what she was bumping into, only focused on getting to the train station. She arrived, panting, paid for a ticket to London, and hopped on a train.

She kept reading the text over and over again. 

COME TO LONDON ASAP. MEET YOU AT EUSTON. MAM.

When the train finally arrived in London Euston station, Lucie was the first person off the train. She  stood on her tiptoes and looked around the crowded platform wildly, her short hair flying every which way. Finally, she spotted her. Her mother. She was standing near a wall at the edge of the platform, wearing a dark blue cardigan that was almost the colour of Will’s eyes, and scanning the crowd. She began shoving people aside, using knees and elbows as weapons, until she broke free of the tangle and ran towards her mother. 

When Tessa saw her daughter, an immense smile broke across her face, like the sun parting the clouds. Lucie flung herself into Tessa’s open arms, and they stood a second or two, just embracing. 

Lucie stepped back first, her concern painted plainly across her face. “What’s wrong, mam? Why did I need to hurry?”

Tessa was still beaming. “Actually… nothings wrong, bach.” She turned to face the man standing a little way from them, one Lucie hadn’t noticed before. “Somethings actually very right.”

Lucie narrowed her eyes and looked at the man. He was tall and thin, and his hair was straight and dark brown, almost black, with a single streak of silver at the front. Something about his kindly face, his dancing eyes, the small smile on his lips looked so… familiar. He almost looked like….

She took a step forward, her eyes widened in astonishment. “Uncle Jem?” She questioned softly.

Tessa was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, radiating with excitement. Lucie had never seen her mother like this, so full of life, not in the 71 years since Will’s death. She was gazing at Jem with complete adoration, and he was smiling at her with such gentleness that Lucie’s heart ached, with happiness for her mother but sorrow for herself. She missed love.

Jem looked at her, his brown eyes soft and happy. “Hello, Lucie.” He gave a small wave and put his hand out towards her, clearly inviting a handshake. 

But Lucie Blackthorn didn’t do handshakes. She covered the distance between them in two strides of her short legs and flung her arms around him: her head only reached his chin. He seemed taken aback, but hugged her tightly anyway. 

“Oh, Uncle Jem!” She squeezed him. “It’s been so long!”

He chuckled and stroked her hair. “I know. And yet, we three have barely aged a day.”

She stepped back, and took Tessa’s hand. “I don’t quite understand what’s going on, and I have so many questions. How did this happen? Once a Silent Brother, always a Silent Brother I thought, but is that not the case?” She looked at Jem. “When did you come back? Oh! I do hope you told me immediately, mam. This is a miracle after all, and you know how I hate to miss miracles.” She was talking so rapidly that her words seemed to be falling over one another. Jem was just nodding slightly, looking bemused, and Tessa was trying not to laugh.

“Come on,” Tessa gave Lucie’s hand a quick squeeze and took Jem’s with her other. “Let’s go get a coffee and I’ll explain properly.” 

As the trio began to make their way through the station, Tessa began to speak. “It is yet another story of Lightwoods and Herondales and Fairchilds…”

[blankdblank]

It’s a Mother Flocking Puffin Pt 22

Use of Karliene: Walk with the Devil. Requested by @deepestfirefun​.

…

‘Rest up, hope you’re feeling better. Been getting calls and messages all day yesterday and this morning to pass on that everyone will wait as long as necessary for their instruments to be repaired and returned. Your health is imperative.’ Bilbo’s message read loud and clear across your phone screen once you’d been given it from your bag that had kept it safe.

Along with that inquiries from Mal and thanks for saving her from that dagger notices from the social page you were instructed to make to display previews of your artwork for your illustration course to be tagged for the class and school for possible interest from future employers. The only public account you had with scores of messages of well wishes and compliments of the song you had been at the school to record.

Curious of how you did the clip was easily found on the same site your videos for the guys were posted on in the popular news category. The stilled image was you in the booth while the band outside readied to play the tune for you. And to the first note the camera steadied into a slightly better angle to come to rest as your voice came out in an accented Khuzdul flow sounding so awkward to you while others in the comments were praising the song you’d written for the popular fable a production company was currently filming. Snare taps to a drum beat kept the song going while the brass section readied for their role to the melody.

I've never claimed to be a good boy

That lad is long dead

'Cause I got stuck in the wars, Grace

Ones with bullets

And ones in my head

But you made it so

Easy to let go

Now I'm all alone

And the shots are deafening

  A few lines in the footage flickered between you and a montage of sorts, reading a sort of fable linked to your lineage with Melkor’s death and inherited oath to bring down your family passed to the Avari.

  So I walk with the Devil

My rivals best be careful

'Cause when you're already dead

There's no gun at your head

You're finally free

  This one more of a fan video for your saving the day as slowed down enough to get stilled images of your fighting the Avari to when Smaug was released.

  I shook hands with the Devil

Ah this town best be careful

'Cause when you're already dead

There's no rope for your neck

You're finally free

Yeah, I walk with the Devil

  People fled while you ran from the courtyard. More stilled images flickered of the path to the Nursery until more flames destroyed that wing.

  Do you remember that broken man

When you sang your song?

And how you put him back together, girl

With your voice and with your love

  The shop came next up to the trio hoisting up the wind lance ending with the reduction of Smaug to rubies and gold.

  'Cause you made it so

Easy to let go

Now I'm all alone

And the shots are deafening

  The image of Thorin’s elated embrace of you afterwards was held for a good while with banners of wishes for long rules for their interim King and Queen.

  So I walk with the the Devil

My rivals best be careful

Cause when you’re already dead

There’s no gun at your head

You’re finally free

  The final part held a montage of clips from your videos on the progress for building your piano and repair job for the orchestra with words of hope to see what music you would bring into the world in the years to come.

  I shook hands with the Devil

Ah this town best be careful

Cause when you’re already dead

There’s no rope for your neck

You’re finally free

  The combination was a bit awkward of a match to go with the song but you simply took it as the culture variations at play that you simply didn’t see the tying features at not having grown up with their media they were used to. Still shockingly low on the pop culture references here down you scrolled realizing this was a fan video and not how this was put on the news. That footage was five times the length of this video due to the discussion of the anchors and a frozen image on one of the parts of you with what looked to be ice wings coming from your back used for another fan video titled Dragon vs Puffin Queen. Each video you saw continued the pattern of using various parts of the footage until you dipped to something else entirely. One focused solely on the song faces of Dwarves for the video you clicked on showed their shared plea for the production company to use the song you’d written for that fable in their upcoming film stirring a smirk out of you.

At your side you set the phone and again in your bag your hand dipped to fetch your notepad to continue working on a writing assignment formerly due in a week. Emails had been sent that the rest of the week the school was being cleaned with usable portions to continue housing classes while those in the destroyed wings would be moved to other courses. Among the few students on required bed rest and the parents understandably requiring some time off virtual courses were to be given for each applicable with written projects to be assigned weekly for the courses requiring physical attendance to have a grade to place until those lectures could be made up.

All the same you would do all you could to leave little extra stress for your Professors on top of the shift to not have to make up too many assignments. On the other hand however the Professors having heard from the news that the worst injuries you faced were cracked ribs assured you that there was no rush for you to hurry back to class before you were fully healed to not hurt yourself even more in returning before the month was up. Even after the Feast was set to take place to grant you more relaxation time even if your ribs and other troubles were healed by then.

.

Being with you was priority, though for his urge to stay curled up with you half an hour was what he set aside daily to work on the bunnies for you, maybe more if you had drifted off into a nap. Each day bringing him closer to the finished present he could give to you before the holiday break would come to tick off another marker to your courtship before meeting your clans in person. The first day went easily enough with small naps taken every so often between meals. With the second once you had finished off all your backed up work even a dig for an old needlework kit had taken up a few hours while Thorin had picked up some more loose ends to help carry the equal share of evening out from the fallout. Mainly the management of funds to be allocated to the building crews chosen for repairing the University and landscaping teams which should cover most of the issues for the remainder of the week minus the daily meetings.

A clever idea came from Balin’s wife in her time to bond with you while Dis sat for the official portrait for her, Vili and their children for that release at the end of the week when Thror and Niro would return home to the Palace. Propped on your legs rested on top of two pillows while you were being iced post stop by the Healers to stretch and massage out your still tight leg from hip to toe sat a tablet. With it you eyed the 3d model of the cottage you had chosen that she smirked relaxing that at least in your boredom some work to get more steps completed could be started, and the length of the task could take up ample time to get you through this healing bout of bed rest.

Easily the agreed furry foot stools and the forest green rug like in one of the studies you had seen with different color patterns were added. Tucked in the bedroom was a bed frame you wanted that by a peek into the boys’ room in the rental you shared Thorin might not be against using that frame for your marital bed. Blank boxy white furniture was settled where you wanted to fill spaces to be agreed upon later with the basic rooms first, starting with the living room. White furniture scooted around the room expanding and shrinking around the white rug before you turned your focus to the color of the walls, patterned wallpaper for a few rooms to be looked over by Thorin later surely as it wasn’t just going to be your home it’d be his too.

By the time you moved onto the dining room while your company was off to feed her little girl and put her down for a nap Thorin had come back and smiled ready to relax himself with an ice pack on his shoulder. Right up to your side with a gentle press of his lips to your cheek he wiggled closer, smile splitting wider in notice of what you were up to and the bashful grin on your face at being caught pressing forward on this step alone.

“Decorating to keep you busy?” He hummed gladly with eyes shifting to your face again, the blush on your face lured him inwards to steal another kiss on your cheek. “Let’s see what you have so far.”

“I have the stools we already agreed on, and I was thinking this rug, if those colors work.”

“That is a lovely rug,”

“And I did pick a bed frame like this, if you’d be good with that?”

“My beds have always been like this.” Hastily he wet his lips. “There is a style I imagined for the armchairs in our study and parlor guests won’t be using, just for us, it’s nice and deep,” his fingers on one hand found the style and settled one in place that with a tap of your own you added a second and switched between the colors tugging a smirk across his lips.

“Ooh, I like this grey one.” Once that was placed you said, “Maybe we should pick room colors and papers first.” Starting the task to coloring each room you could leaving the others blank for the time being with a symbolic giant crystal sculpture of Mumakil in the center of those rooms as a symbol to come back to later.

.

Kili grinned saying, “Now, I am on the camera, countdown, 5,” he hurried over and you giggled at his switching the camera on to record with the mini screen aimed at the three of you. You were tucked up in a plushy armchair with feet up on a furry foot rest with pillows rested behind your back fully warmed by the lit fireplace to your left, Fili was seated on one arm of the chair with Kili for the other. “2,” Back at your free side he came and smiled making you nip at your lip and grin through their usual sign in ready and comfortable for this video the guys thought would be a good check in for the public to say you are on the mend.

Lowly in Khuzdul they both said, “Welcome back to our little corner of the LonelyMountain. Today our salon doors are open to you.”

“ManeMan,” Fili said with a grin before Kili said, “And the GlitterGrizzly” Both bowed briefly making you glance down to shift your legs again, “At your service.” Their hands clapped and the pair settled a hand on the chair back behind your head smiling wider, “And today we are here again with our incredible model SnowBunny.”

In a soft giggle you waved with your now sling free arm glad to have some normal movement from that shoulder again and the pair each brought forward a set of measuring tapes, “Who is so kindly allowing us to measure her for a sketch while she relaxes by her lovely warm fire.”

Kili, “Already from our selection of candles she has chosen her favorite, a lovely warm cider scent.” With a smile he watched Fili play with and light the candle he set up on the mantle behind you.

Fili in sitting down again, “And now that we are assured our model is tucked nice and comfy in this large armchair with blanket, pillows and furry footrest we shall get to the measuring.” Through giggles you let them shift you subtly with tapes covering what was revealed above the blanket and just a long measure of the top of your legs and the tent your feet made on the stool. Each number was recorded on a notepad before the pair smiled moving to the stools set out they showed off smoothing their hands over them lifting the sketch pads and pencils waiting there for both on opposite sides of you to get started on the sketch. Halfway through to another exaggerated show of using their pencils to scale up a part of the sketches Sir Akdâmuthrab came over and climbed his way up onto your lap.

Kili, “Hey! I was almost done!”

Fili chuckled saying to the camera, “Introducing a little Burglar who is intent on stealing the focus of our SnowBunny.”

“Oh he can’t help it, nice and warm and he likes to cuddle since I can’t run away and wake him up,” you giggled out to the Princes who chuckled.

Kili leaned in saying, “Now to just wait for him to settle so I can get his markings right, him and his envious mustache and brows.”

Again you giggled out, “If he keeps up photo bombing we might have to pick him out a bowtie. Something fancy to wear.”

Fili, “Ooh, we could do that, stitch him up some options and have a try out for him to see which he likes.”

Exaggerated sketch sounds and taps on the pads came with your Burglar’s napping stretch granting them a second shot to get him added to the images that at the end they showed off. Once signed off the guys switched the video to edit while around you then posted it with a nice little message for a mini update from the Young Majesty from the Palace. The video had to be done today as the guys were meeting up with their team for a practice before the game this weekend taking them from your company and leaving you to Thorin’s watch once Thror and Niro return.

They were off while you slept soundly in a nap post lunch break, having been helped back to the comfortable mattress by the boys as walking was a bit rough on breathing easily for long distances past the occasional bathroom trip you could manage there and back again on your own.

*

Thror upon seeing Thorin tugged him into a tight hug, “How are you feeling?”

Niro promptly claimed her own hug widening his grin, “In any pain?”

“I am doing well, bit sore, but more for the massages and realignment from the Healers. Mostly just bruises and scrapes for me.”

Thror, “How is Jaqi? We saw the video the boys posted this morning. Quite early.”

“Jaqi is doing well, slept early, rough to say better or not, ribs are still troubling for her to walk or move too freely with just yet.”

Niro, “Are the Healers with her?”

Thorin shook his head, “No, resting right now, we just had lunch a bit ago.”

She looked over her grandson, “Are you resting?”

“Yes, I’ve been staying with Jaqi most nights unless it’s too late after things that have come up. I don’t want to wake her or make her shift by me joining her in her sleep to hurt her ribs. I am sleeping, just still tired.”

Thror, “Are you off to rest after we do the public hand off of the ring?”

Thorin nodded, “Small nap, then I would like to finish up the touches on the bunnies. Just a few tiny things to double check then it’s waiting until she is healed to have a walk or picnic at least.”

Thror patted him on the back, “That is a relief, come and we will handle this business and you will be demoted again to focus solely on our granddaughter.” Deepening the Prince’s smile on the joint turn from the garage where their jet had let them out to get inside the Palace walls.

All was still locked down on these grounds at least as it would stay out of respect for you to grant you ample protection and trust that you had all the time you needed to recover. While you had been resting the Emperor when not at your side had made a couple trips on the days you were meant to go into the shop to at the very least assure Bilbo that you were all holding up nicely, along with handling a few press updates with simple statements in passing. All that you were improving and following the Doctor’s instructions to continue doing so after a blow to the ribs. They were your main injury that none wished to rush you on as in their required sparring courses rib injuries were abundantly common and known to require a bit of babying to recover from no matter how irritating the bed laying could be. All in all the people were of good spirits knowing ample updates day to day after what could have gone so much worse for everyone involved.

Niro with a smile looped her arm into Thorin’s arm asking, “And what is this I hear about cottage decorations while on your bed rest?”

Thorin chuckled along with Thror, “A tablet was given to keep her distracted, mainly just wall colors and a few rooms down.”

Niro, “It is a start, once the mirrors are taken down off that pillar then we can get to painting and papering the cottage.”

*

“Put a little something together for you, my Yuula,” the Emperor said rolling you in the wheeled chair to your 3rd spare bedroom now turned into a mini workshop filled with a selection of the 8 double bases and 12 cellos sent from the orchestra the day prior. “I imagined the orchestra pieces might be wanted to complete first.”

Tearily you looked up at him smiling in his lean forward to give you a hug, “Thank you.”

“I know you just want to be productive, the boys helped me sneak these back, well, not much to sneaking, they are huge, but tagged and organized for you. Bilbo said the Violas come in a few days.”

And that was how your little bed rest rebellion began. Resting in your chair the 2 hours and 40 minutes for the bases went by smoothly. Followed by the first half of the cellos for 2 hours until your brunch came in to by followed by finishing off the cellos that were, via text to Bilbo, moved over in the system and to be taken back to the shop to notify the orchestra in a few days to not spoil the surprise. As if they had already been done and simply gotten shuffled down on the call to pick up list traded for the violas in their drop off. As it went the day of rebellion was followed by two mainly sleeping for the ease of the Healers and Durins only for you to wake to the first six of the 12 violas sent in at a time. Two hours was all it took and to avoid another slump like that again you spaced them out through the day before and after meals to grant you a shower and nap to be rested for supper with Thorin.

The Emperor was pleased to say the least that you were restless and somewhat calm, that your fighting spirit hadn’t taken an injury and sorrow or a deep depression had crept in to keep you wishing to stay in bed forever and never leave these palace walls again. Desserts were group affairs with breakfasts on occasion when you were up to be held together, each adding another tick mark to proof that you would be back to normal soon enough.

Tonight however with the shipment of Athelas plants from Gondor he had sent for the Emperor sat up next to you having helped you lay out on your side. With shirt tucked up revealing the painful black bruise of the handle surrounded by a sea or deep indigo bruises from your side branching onto your back matching those on your legs. Soft and tenderly his voice ebbed and flowed from wall to wall in the squeeze of his fingers around the wet cloth draining the excess warm water mingled with the essence of the ground Athelas blooms causing it to begin to glow. Barely touching the skin over your bruise his hand paused at the clench of your side feeling the heat already of the cloth and hand close to touching the painful spot. A healing bath was set to be drawn for you later today but this bruise and fractures had to be seen to first to ease your discomfort before you could soak in a hot bath preventing risks of losing your breath in the tub from the heat.

Down his hand moved to fold around the bruise as kindly as possible for the slow and steady smooth of the cloth down your ribs to spread the healing ointment. Faintly to his song your skin began to glow and between each stroke of the cloth he would remove it to drench it again to coat your skin some more. Every one showing signs that the bruises were lightening, with eyes shut you controlled your breath to grow accustomed to the uncomfortable feeling of the fractured ribs underneath his palm beginning to seal whole again from the painful crack outwards. The sight from the foot of the bed had Thorin’s hand smoothing comfortingly over your ankle and lower leg eyeing each inch of the astonishing bruise covering your torso. Curiously the boys had asked to watch the process and having heard your bruises would heal as well were glad to get your approval for their filming the process.

Black to Indigo the ribs began to give way to a tolerable purple growing fainter to an olive shade where he would guide your body onto your belly. Up to your shoulders the back of your shirt was eased up revealing the back of your front clasped razorback bra in a stand out nude shade he worked around guiding those indigo bruises around the small bandages he uncovered to smooth the ointment over. Those remaining scabs moistened soaking it all in to heal by morning adding to the stunning process relaxing those watching even more at the growing ease you found to move and breathe again.

Down into the now empty bowl the cloth was settled. And over your back the shirt was eased again for his guiding you to sit up cross legged for a series of easy stretches to test your limberness regained again widening your grin knowing that surely after the bath you’d be mostly back to normal after another day of continuing to rest as much as possible. The return to health was much anticipated though glad for more days of cuddles Thorin stayed close. In private as the boys went to watch and edit the footage down to update the people again who had caught sight of one of your bruises before on your leg when a massage was being given to it in a try to help speed it along. The comments almost all focused on how long it might take to have those indigo bruises to heal on your Hobbity self with others of Hobbit lineage sharing their own long battles with bruises.

The videos surely were seen by your clan, who had called Winge and calmed at the delivery on its way to aid in those lingering wounds paining them greatly. Again and again the footage of the attack was viewed by them watching their brave strong lost heir defeating a formidable foe and foiling the anticipated death toll tipped entirely onto the Avari. Aching to have this week over with wishing to have you greet them in this new kingdom you’d yet to travel to that they could show you all of the secrets they had learned in their stay. They could have come to visit but still clung to the fact they did not wish to overstep as if they had been there in your pained moments they would not have left your side until you were back to yourself again while sharing all you had missed and they had been compiling on personal lists for the decades of your absence sure to spill out of them. But it was just another week until you would arrive, having assured them in your video call times at the back end of Winge’s daily updates that you were still coming on time so they didn’t have to change the Feast of Starlight plans.

.

Two sock bunnies sat on your table along the wall while tucked in bed with Thorin on top of the covers beside you watched a film. One baby blue with white spots and a white t shirt complete with blue button paired with an identical bunny in grey and white. Much like for you in the past his speech shot right out of his mind and even sore still a tight hug on your part was met by his gentle embrace pleased to have received your adoration on his skills. One loving dinner had been prepared by him and all night he remained close to you with just a break to change to his flannels and return again to stretch out with you enjoying the film he’d chosen, smiling brightly all the while at your place nestled half against his chest using his shoulder as your pillow. In the morning he’d be off to another final wedding being held out in one of the Southern Dwarf Kingdoms that would keep him away a few days. You wouldn’t be sitting around moping, not with classes beginning this week to sit for and instruments to pretend you weren’t fixing.

  *

“I’m telling you Amad I don’t know!” Kili huffed out plopping into a chair bedside his brother’s after having been standing so long to show off his mark dots on the shape of a clover on his wrist now in a darker shade of light gold hinting he’d touched his One.

Dis huffed as Vili said, “Well there has to be a hint on how many people you whacked your wrist into while Smaug was terrorizing the school.”

Kili blurted out, “Well what about Fili?! His mark is on his collarbone they’d have had to go under his shirt why isn’t he getting this grilling when he should no doubt know who touched him underneath his clothes! All I know is we were at the game and our marks lit up, so it’s someone that went to the game!”

Dis said, “No deflecting, we are working youngest to eldest. Now from the first sign Smaug was being let loose who did you come into contact with? As best you can remember. There are two clans to research and contact to begin courtship talks.”

Kili sighed and wet his lips looking at his wrist himself trying to remember. “We just came out of the orchestra session and we were in the breezeway, we saw the team, then dagger was thrown. Smaug came out and we grabbed,”

His eyes went wide as Fili’s did realizing who it might be, both groaning out rubbing their hands over their faces, “Mal.”

Dis looked them over asking, “Ok yes she is on the list we took note of on the security footage there is of this. Why the groan?”

Kili lowered his hands to say, “I grabbed her arm and Fi kept her head between us, when we went to the water I had to help him get her to let go of his shirt.”

Vili, “Ok, good candidate then, why the groan do you not like her?”

They both said, “You don’t date your friend’s friends! Bro Code! She’s Jaqi’s only friend outside the clan!”

Kili shook his head, “Can’t be her,” crossing his arms over his chest.

Fili did the same, “She’d never talk to us again.” His folded arms shifting his shirt to show the side of the pale blue jellyfish shaped dots of his mark once more of an off white than a legible shade of blue at all.

The parents relented and let the boys go with word given to Dwalin through his friendship with Bilbo to ask what clan she belonged to on her Dwarf side. A task leaving them less than satisfied as he said he paid no one to that ‘jumble of nonsense’ her father hailed from and had even himself broken free of to choose the more respectable Baggins clan and name for his own to get a fresh start from the life he rarely spoke of beyond a muttered curse. Leaving just one person to ask for any clue without approaching the young Dwobbit herself.

Pt 23

All –

@himoverflowers​​​, @theincaprincess​​​, @aspiringtranslator​​​, @thegreyberet​​​, @patanghill17​​​, @jesgisborne​​​, @curvestrology​​​, @alishlieb​​​, @jogregor​​​, @armitageadoration​​​, @fizzyxcustard​​​, @lilith15000​​​, @marvels-ghost​​​, @catthefearless​​​, @imjusthereforthereads​​​, @c-s-stars​​​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​​, @mariannetora​​​, @shes-a-killer-kween​​, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm​​

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​​, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione​​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​​

X all Rich. A - @abiwim​​, @deepestfirefun​, @thestorybookmistress

[heistmaster69]

pariet lilium

pariet lilium

pariet lilium~by @heistmaster69​

4th Year Draco Malfoy x OC fic. 

~so uhh um I was maybe watching a video about dark academia while writing this and may have gotten a BIT carried away~

gif by @fairylightwishes​ all credit to them!

~

Frankie and Cher sat in the back of Potions class while Snape droned on about the effects of crushed versus shaved Bicorn Horn on the end result of a Pepperup potion.

“-now you see that’s exactly what I was talking about. Muggle movie stars are much more attractive than boys at Hogwarts-”

“Leonar-” 

“-Dicaprio, yes.” She whispered.

“Frankie that man is gorgeous-”

‘So fine-”

Cher let out a sigh, while Frankie continued. “All the boys from Dead Poets Society-”

“So it’s decided then-”

“Yes. I’m saving my virginity until I’m of age and Leonardo Dicaprio can come and take it fro-”

“Miss. Reed.” Snape deadpanned. “If you and your friends would be so kind as to stop squealing about muggle boys in my class-I would appreciate it. That will be five points from Slytherin.” 

Cher kicked Frankie under the table. 

“My bad, professor.” She murmured, putting her palm under her chin and turning back to her notes. 

Potions had to be her third favorite class, Frankie didn’t mind it at all, it’s just, she was a little distracted, recently. It seemed like her single-ness was beginning to get to her and she found herself daydreaming during class. She didn’t want to be as obsessed as she was, but Frankie couldn’t really help it. She wanted the movie-scene first kiss and the romance novel passion, as unattainable as it is, she craved it. 

But the thing is-Frankie never let herself daydream about people she knew. In reality, none of the people she’s liked would ever like her back, and it just hurt her because she knew that no one would ever have feelings for Frankie as she did for them. Every time she let her walls down she got hurt. 

A lot of the people Frankie has met have made sure she knows that she will never be as valuable, never as loved, as beautiful, as successful as others because she wasn’t as thin as others. Frankie loved herself. But her ‘friends’, her family? It seemed like they hated her for it...

~ 

Magic had always interested Frankie. Being a witch or wizard usually goes over the heads of purebloods, with the mere prospect of having the gift coming so naturally to all of them. Frankie’s isolated upbringing, rarely seeing her parents and being brought up by a strange yet kind tutor who instructed her in all sorts of topics, ranging from basic arithmetic to discovering Frankie’s magical abilities. Ms. Selwyn, around Frankie’s parents, and Kendra, during her tutoring sessions daily during childhood. 

These memories with Kendra have a warm haze to them, and whenever Frankie reminisced, a smile would find its way onto her face. We would stand together in the garden, during the golden sunsets, and she would say;

“Magic is an incredible gift, it is beautiful and infinitely important. We hold the power of the universe in our hands.” 

Young Frankie would stare wide-eyed, confused, and tug on the side of Kendra’s robe,

“Ms. Kendra, what’s the universe?” Frankie would ask.

“The universe is everything.”

“Everything? How much is that?” 

Kendra would smile so gently and kneel down beside Frankie, grasping her small hands and gesturing towards the sky alive with color.

“More than we could ever know.”

Kendra knew the power purebloods held with the Ministry, after all, the Selwyns and the Reeds were a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The Ministry was still hypnotized by the status and the blood purity that these upper-class families held and overlooked the small laws broken by the elite, so Kendra and Frankie would practice small magic in their free time-in secret. The Reeds would never want their precious-little-delicate-perfect-pureblood baby daughter learning anything but the proper protocol for stuffy dinners with the Prewetts, the Malfoys, the Greengrasses, the Bulstrodes, the Parkinsons, the Notts, the Flints, or any other sort of perfect families that they could put in their larger-than-life estate. 

Nevertheless, Kendra would take Frankie into the garden behind the mansion, near the rippling brook by a big oak tree. They would sit in the shade of the branches and Frankie would learn about everything her family didn’t want her to know. She learned about the inequality between purebloods, half-bloods, and muggleborns and as Kendra told her of the First Wizarding War, Frankie felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces. How could someone think they were any better than another human being due to their blood? Their lineage? How they treat those supposedly ‘less than’? This realization caused a rift to form between Frankie and her parents-the entirety of what being Sacred 28 pureblooded perfection was. 

She despised it.

Kendra warned her though, she spoke softly the words that shoved Frankie into a vault, locked her away, and threw away the key.

“I don’t know if this will ever change.”

Little Frankie blinked quickly, her wide eyes sore and puffy from tears. “Why?” She cried. 

“They will never relinquish the privilege that this supremacy gives them.” Kendra let out a deep sigh and placed a tender hand on Frankie’s shoulder. 

“I think you’re wrong, Miss Kendra.”

“I hope I am, Miss Frankie. I think you could make a difference.”

This upbringing of acceptance and wonder from Kendra instilled a unique view of magic in Frankie. She saw it as a privilege and took an interest in a side of magic that tended to be overlooked until necessary. Frankie liked to create spells and potions. Specifically, she had a fixation on wandless magic. It was crazy to her-she could create life from her hands. How so many of her friends and peers overlooked this, she understood but wished more people wouldn’t call people like her Loony Lovegood. 

Anyways.

Frankie hid a tattered mahogany-colored, pleather-bound journal in her pillowcase. This journal rarely let the safety of her room, only transferring annually between her estate and Hogwarts. It was never shown to a soul, and it contained her life’s work in what could barely be considered spell-creation. Notes and random scribbles littered the pages, but if it were ever to be lost, Frankie would lose everything she’s done since she was six years, four months, and thirteen days old and Kendra told her about spell-creation. She thinks she would cry.

~

“Oi Francesca-” A voice called.

“-you’re not allowed to call me that, Blaise.” Frankie chuckled as he jogged up to her, stopping to lean against the wall with a smirk.

“I don’t care, you’re Francesca to me. Anyway, Potions, what happened in poti-” Blaise looked over his shoulder and shouted to Theo. “Oi Theodore, get your arse over here!” Blaise had a thing for using people’s full name-even if it’s not really their name, (ie Daphnessa/Pansleigh.) Frankie rolled her eyes as Theo strolled, shoulders taut, up to Blaise

“Frankie, what happened in Potions? You love potions, you’re always talking about how Potions is a really cool way to learn about how magic affects the world-”

“-Potions is a super cool way to learn about how magic affects the world-” Blaise interjected, wrapping an arm around Theo’s broad shoulders.

 Theo turns to Blaise with a sarcastic stare at him. “Yeah, that.”

I want to have a stupid dumb kiss already. Which is stupid dumb and I don’t even care but I’m horny for love.

“Oh, yeah I-I didn’t sleep well last night.” Frankie choked out.

“It was kind of a relief, your constant enthusiasm about Snape’s class is alarming.” Theo snickered. Blaise snorted as he and Theo sauntered towards the Great Hall. Frankie let out a breath and followed soon after the two boys let for lunch to get to the common room.

~

Frankie’s boots tapped gently against the cold stone floor of the dungeons. Dust hung low in the air, illuminated by the amber glow of hanging torches that littered the walls. The dungeons are always shown as a dingy, disgusting place but Frankie found the common room comforting. She stilled in front of the entrance and spoke softly the password. 

“Labebantur anguis.” 

The wall dragged inwards with a low scraping sound, revealing her home. The estate is not a home, the estate is merely her stage, acting as the perfect daughter for an audience of haughty purebloods. This common room was perfect, smelling like pine and cotton and the perfect temperature. Green rugs and plush couches in front of a fireplace, tables and booths next to an espresso machine and a tea kettle. Arching windows and pillars showcasing the beauty under the Black Lake. This is home.

She stepped past the commons and walked up the winding stairs to the shared dormitories. Cher laid on Frankie’s bed with Daphne with parchment and quills set out on the emerald silk sheets.

“If you two spill ink on my bed one more time I’ll hex you in your sleep.” Frankie shrugged out of her robe and fell back onto Cher’s bed. The two girls giggled and returned to their subsequent conversations.

Cher was gorgeous. She radiated kindness and had an aura about her that made her seem impenetrable, yet she was humble. She had a crooked smile that never failed to bring one to Frankie’s face. Her eyes shone with emotion and were a deep brown that glimmered at all times. She was incredibly brilliant and the top of many of her classes. With the exception of Potions, Frankie held that spot proudly. 

Everyone says that perfect Hermione Granger, the “brightest witch of her age”, is the top of every class, but ever since she had to use her time to deal with the two rambunctious children that are her friends, she holds strong at about fourth. Frankie had to admit, she had a burning jealousy of Granger. She managed to befriend Potter in her first year, as well as make friends with many of the teachers, ace her classes, and save the entire school three times by now. Not to mention, she was also very pretty. This envy flared its deep green color whenever Frankie so much as heard the name Granger. 

“Earth to Reed?” Frankie snapped out of her covetous haze and met Daphne’s eyes. “Pansy’s bringing up lunch, get started on your essay, like, now.” 

Frankie tipped her head in agreement and reached into her bag to pick out her Astronomy notes. “Five sheets of parchment? Is Professor Sinistra trying to kill us?” 

“I think I might just use one sheet for every word: Sorry, I, Don’t, Want, To.” Cher counted on her fingers with a snort.

Daphne tugged at her bottom lip with her pinkie. “Maybe Frankie can use one of the spells from her secret journal to erase this essay from Sinistra’s mind.”

“That spell already exists, you toad.” Pansy swung the door open with several food items floating behind her, a slice of pumpkin bread levitating into Frankie’s waiting hands. “It’s called Obliviate, it has murderous side effects, and, next week it’s Reed’s turn to get the food.”

“Thank you Pans,” Cher cheered, mouth full of a danish pastry.

“Plus, the boys were bugging us to sit with them more often.” Pansy sat beside Frankie, parchment in hand. Daphne rolled her eyes.

“It’s one day a week, they’ll get over it eventually.”

“The students at Uagadou are so lucky. They have a good Astronomy program and they live in a cloud.” 

Cher scoffed. “They don’t live in a cloud, Pans, They live in a castle-that’s on a cloud. It’s very particular.”

“I want to live in a castle.”

“You idiot, you do.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you bloody mean?”

“Nothi-whatever-what are we doing for Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

~

Draco. Bloody. Malfoy. 

He walks around the school all high and mighty, like he owns the place, yet he acts like a right prat to many of its inhabitants. It’s like the boy was born with a stick up his arse. Yet, Frankie knew how he was raised, not that it’s an excuse. He doesn’t want to be the way he is, but he’s not some broken boy for her to fix. 

She’s had many conversations in the common room with Malfoy after nights of nightmares. She’s shared hugs that linger a second too long and strange glances during lectures. His stone grey eyes held an emotion behind them that she couldn’t understand. It made her uncomfortable, the strange buzz on her skin where his hand met. The fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach when they got too close. She didn’t like it. It made her feel like a creep.

She sees the way he looks at Cher. Frankie doesn’t compare to a golden, legs-for-days goddess with a waist the same circumference as Frankie’s thigh. Besides, a Malfoy should be with someone the same physical caliber as him. Frankie’s mother prayed to the ghost of Merlin that Frankie would blossom into a beautiful flower, but as her mother continuously reminded her, 

“You are a disgrace. Nothing but a weed in a garden of perfection.”

It’s not hard to believe. Many pureblood parents held a disdain for their children in private. Frankie was lucky to have someone like Kendra. Other teenagers didn’t have anyone. Frankie was lucky, not special. A mere weed, removable by a weak pull. A thorn on an otherwise perfect rose, fit to be plucked, ignored by onlookers.

Draco Malfoy was never written in the stars for someone like Frankie. 

Not that she liked him or anything. He was, as stated before, a right prat. A good looking one, but a prat nonetheless. They didn’t talk much, at all, instead seeking solace in the late hours of the night, a deep bond hidden from their friends. How could two people who were supposedly so perfect, be so broken?

~

pariet lilium.

chapter two

[ruthoakenshield]

Worthless Little Shadow (chapter 7)

Worthless Little Shadow (Chapter 6)

As they finish their conversation, a knock is heard at the door. Dis gets up and answers it. She closes the door and comes back to the table. "Thorin is ready for the council meeting. You boys had better get going." she tells them. "Balin, I will send the raven to go inquire and search for the two guards who helped Shadow escape." she tells him.

Balin nods. "You two ladies have a lovely day. We will see you both for lunch." Balin tells them as he gets up. He comes over to Shadow and gives her a wink. "Don't worry about how this will turn out, Lass. You are welcome here and we will not send you back to your father, nor will we send you out of the mountain. Spend the day with Dis and have her show you around the mountain until Dwalin or I have some free time. I'm afraid Thorin will keep these two lads busy for a while until we can get this all worked out and can prove to him your story is true." Balin tells her as he gives her a small hug.

She looks up at his face and gives him a small smile. "Thank you Master Balin for your help and your kindness." Shadow says quietly. "Any time, Lass. I am here if you ever want someone to talk with." he says and pats her cheek affectionately.

Balin heads for the door, "Come on Gents, lets get going." he says. Dwalin comes over and gives Shadow a smile. "It's good to finally hear ya talkin' Lass. I hope ye will sing for us again sometime." he says with a twinkle in his eye. Shadow blushes and says, "We shall see, Master Dwalin." he grins and gives her a wink and a pat on the shoulder, then heads over to his brother.

Kili gets up and comes over to Shadow. "Don't worry, Little Shadow, everything will work out. Just keep being you and give Uncle time to warm up to you." he says and gives her a hug. She smiles and hugs him back. "Thank you, Kee for finding me and helping me." she says quietly. He puts his head to hers and says, "You make my brother happier than I have ever seen him. I am glad he found his One and I can't wait to have you as a sister!" he grins.

Shadow chuckles and Kili heads for the door.

Fili stands up last and just looks at Shadow for a moment. He takes her hands and kisses each of them then holds them to his chest. "I wish I didn't have to go to these meetings today. I had wanted to show you around Erebor when we got back." he sighs. Shadow puts her forehead against his.

"You can show me your favourite haunts perhaps when you finish for the day. I am in no hurry, my love, I will wait for you however long I have to." she tells him.

Fili sighs and looks into her green eyes. "I love you SO much Ghishavel, thank you for not running when you realized who I was." he tells her quietly. She giggles.

"Well I couldn't exactly run when you had me in a tight grip on your pony." she replies.

Fili grins. "Stay with me always?" he asks her. "Yes, my Lion Prince, I will stay with you always." she tells him and kisses him so soundly that he is left speechless.

 They hear chuckling from behind them and Kili calls out, "Come on 'Lion Prince', get your rear in gear or Uncle will have your head for making us late for council." Dwalin and Balin chuckle and Fili gives Shadow a peck on the cheek and heads out to the meeting.

Dis chuckles as she watches the interaction between her oldest son and his love. It reminds her of her late husband. Fili looks a lot like him and she sees a lot of her in Shadow. She comes over to Shadow after the Dwarrow leave and she says, "Come, lets go for a walk and I will show you some of Erebor while we talk and get to know each other better." Shadow smiles and nods.

The two dwarrowdams head into the hallway and Dis introduces Shadow to the guards who were assigned to protect her room. They smile politely and welcome her to Erebor. Then Dis shows Shadow to the throne room and lets her look around. After that, she takes them to the market place and they have fun wandering the market and admiring all the wares. Dis takes Shadow over to her favourite corsetmaker and insists on getting several more corsets in various colors to go with the dresses the dwarves bought for her. "They don't understand some of the things we ladies need." she chuckles. Then they head over to the booth that sells undergarments and night clothes. Dis helps Shadow pick out more underclothes and some night gowns. Then they head to the food vendors and grab some fruit and cheese, honey cakes  and a bottle of mead and head out of the market.

Dis takes her to the library and grins when she sees Shadow's face light up a the mention of Erebor having a library. "Do you enjoy reading?" Dis asks. Shadow smiles a big smile and says, "Yes, I did a lot of reading when I was locked in my rooms." Dis introduces Shadow to Ori, who shows them around the library and explains how things are organized and what all he has done to restore the library. Shadow is amazed by it all and is quick to praise him for all his hard work and how lovely the library looks. 

Ori blushes at the praise and thanks her. He shows them to a table and lets them sit and talk and eat their mid morning snack. "Shadow, what are the names of the guards who helped you escape?" Dis asks as they eat. Shadow tells her and sighs. "I wonder if they are even alive any more. Father doesn't suffer those who betray him to live for very long. Father pretends to be kind and good natured on the outside, but once he lets you into his inner circle, he reveals how mean and cruel he truly is. I doubt he even bothered to search for me. He always told me I was worthless and good for nothing. He blamed mother for me being a girl and not a boy. As if she had any control over it." Shadow said sadly.

Dis sighed. "I am so sorry you were treated like that. When Thorin finds out what has happened to you, I'm sure he will not be happy and will understand why you ran. One thing he does not tolerate is a woman of any race being improperly treated and abused. You will be safe here, Sweetheart, if anyone ever raises a hand to you in anger he and my boys will see that they are punished severely. The dwarves of this community do not tolerate abuse of our women." Dis assures Shadow. 

"Were you close to your mother?" Dis asks. Shadow nods. "Yes, I miss her terribly. She would've loved my room. Amethysts were her favourite. They remind me of her." Shadow tells her. "She hated the name father chose for me." Shadow says. "Amad always told me I was NOT worthless and that I was NOT good for nothing. She always told me she wanted to name me, Davi, which means 'cherished'. She always called me that when Adad was not around. 

"Shadow, which name would you rather be called. It seems my boys' nickname is what Dwalin and the boys refer to you as, but that was because no one knew your real name. You won't be able to go by that though once you are introduced to Thorin, the council, and the mountain as Fili's intended. How would you like to be called? Raca or Davi?" Dis asks. 

"I can choose?" Shadow asks as she looks at Dis in wonder. Dis chuckles, "Yes, my dear, you can choose. If there is a different name you wish to be called in public, then let me know." Shadow thinks for a bit. She considers what Dis just told her about how dwarves here view their women. "Dis, do you think Fili would like it if I was called Davi?" She asks.

Dis gives her a warm smile, "He would love it, Sweetheart. Since he does obviously cherish you!" Dis replies. 

"Then I would like to be known as Davi." Shadow informs Dis. Dis nods, "What would you like as a surname?" Dis asks. "I don't know." Shadow replies. 

"What was your mother's name?" Dis asks. "Lenora Ironshield" Shadow replies. Dis' eyes get huge. "Your mother was Lenora Ironshield?!?" Shadow looks confused and nods.

Dis thinks a moment. Then she says, "Normally when a Dwarrow or Dwarrowdam is introduced formally, her first name, surname, and family lineage and titles are given. Thorin's is: Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King under the Mountain. But for you, I will make a case we use your mother's side since your father has behaved so poorly. If you wished to disown him, no one would bat an eye about it and you would still be considered a princess through your mother's lineage. I remember hearing about her once, before she met your adad.  She was a highly respected Dwarrowdam in her former community. I am surprised her father agreed to the marriage. Had he known what he was putting her into, he never would've agreed to the marriage." Dis tells Shadow.

"So let's have you introduced as: Davi, daughter of Lenora Ironshield, queen of the Rhun Mountains, granddaughter of Dolana Lavafist, queen of the Iron Mountain, and intended of Fili, son of Dis and nephew of Thorin, King under the Mountain." Dis suggests.

Shadow's face lights up and she nods. "I like that. We can figure out a surname for me later, I've done nothing noteworthy deserving one." she tells Dis. 

"Come, let's go send a raven to look for your guard friends." Dis says and they pack up their snack and thank Ori for showing them the library and Dis takes Shadow out to Raven Hill to send the bird to find her friends and see if they are alive.

Davi is amazed at the size of the birds. "I never realized how large the Ravens of Erebor are! They are such beautiful birds!" Davi exclaimed. A few of the ravens squawk and one hops onto Davi's shoulder and preens her hair adjusting one of the flower pins Dis had put into it. Davi freezes when the bird hops onto her shoulder and she looks at Dis a little frightened. Dis chuckles. "Loni said your hair pin was coming out and he decided to fix it for you." Dis explained. Loni rubs his head against Davi's face affectionately. Davi chuckles and says, "Thank you Loni. You are a nice raven." It squawks something to Dis and Dis chuckles. "Loni wants to know why you are so thin." she says. 

"Loni, my father rules the Rhun Mountains. He is a horribly cruel dwarf and abused both my mother and I. When my mother died, he locked me in my rooms and starved me. That is why I am so thin. Two guards, who were friends of mine, helped me to escape. That is why we sent the raven to search for them. If they are still alive, I want them to come here and be my guards as a reward for their help." Davi explains. 

Loni squawks again and rubs against Davi. Dis chuckles. "Loni wants to know if he can be your raven. He likes you and wants to stay with you if you will allow." Dis explains. Davi looks up at Dis confused. "Why? I can not understand what he is saying unless you translate for me. How did you learn what they say?" Davi asks.

Dis chuckles. "It is something those of the line of Durin are able to understand. Once you marry into the line of Durin, Mahal will bless you with the ability so you and Fili can communicate by sending messages to each other using the ravens if you are separated for a time. He will eventually have to do trade negotiations with other kingdoms and things like that and won't always be at your side. He will need you to run things with Kili's help while he is gone." Dis explains. 

"Oh." Davi says quietly. Loni rubs against her cheek and squawks quietly. Dis giggles. "He wants to know if you are going to marry Fili and be queen one day." Dis says. 

Davi giggles. "We will see, Loni. He only just asked to court me this morning." Davi explains. Loni flutters his wings and preens making Davi giggle. "What are you doing, Loni?" She asks. He squawks again and Dis translates. "He is preening so he looks nice for you." she chuckles. 

Davi blushes and asks, "May I pet you Loni?" He looks at her and bobs his head. Davi reaches up and gently touches his head. He closes his eyes and makes a funny little sound. Davi runs her fingers down his back and gently pets his wings. "Oooh! Your feathers are SO soft!!!" she says. Loni perks up his head and puffs his chest feathers out. Dis chuckles. "You just gave him a very high compliment." she tells Davi. 

Davi giggles. "Would you like to join us as we walk around Erebor, Loni?" she asks. Loni bobbs his head and stays perched on her shoulder as Dis leads them out of Raven Hill. They make their way back after telling the guard to send word to them immediately when the raven returns with news of the guards. He nods and they head back into Erebor. They talk with each other and Loni as Dis translates for Davi when Loni wants to tell Davi something. 

They walk around the halls and Dis shows Davi some of her favourite places. They stop in the grand ball room and the music hall. Loni asks if Davi can play any instruments or sing. She giggles and tells them she sings and plays the harp. Loni fluffs up and asks if she will play and sing them something. Davi nods and they walk into the music hall. Dis shows Davi one of the gold harps and Loni hops onto the top of it and watches as Davi sits and makes sure the harp is in tune. Then he flies down to her shoulder again and nestles into her neck. 

She sings the song she sang earlier. The one her mother sang to her as a babe. The music and her beautiful voice flowing out through the doorway and into the halls of Erebor. Everyone who hears it pauses and closes their eyes, mesmerized by the haunting voice and melody. Thorin hears it in the Council chambers and stands. He hollers for them to be silent so he can hear it clearly. Dwalin and Balin grin, knowing who's voice it is. Fili's jaw drops when he hears it and Kili smirks.  They are all surprised when Thorin gets up and walks out of the council chambers without another word. He follows the sound of the music and his nephews and Balin and Dwalin also join him in the hall. The music and voice stop however, before he can find out where it came from. 

Thorin looks around, frowning hoping the music starts up again, but it doesn't. He growls and heads back towards the council chambers. Kili and Fili, Balin and Dwalin all smirking behind him.

When Davi finishes the song and leans the harp back into it's position, Loni nuzzles his head against her neck and squawks quietly in almost a purr. Dis giggles and tells Davi, "Loni says you have a voice like a beautiful songbird. He says he has never heard anything so beautiful before and that he hopes you sing more often." Davi blushes and pets Loni again. 

"Thank you Loni. That song was one my mother sang to me when I was but a little dwarrow pebble." Davi explains. Loni makes another sound and Dis says, "He wants to know if you know any other songs." Davi nods and says yes, but I don't want to sing any more right now. Can we see some more of Erebor?" Davi asks. Dis nods. 

Dis leads them out of the music hall and down further. They can hear hollering and yelling and Thorin's booming voice coming from behind one of the doors. Davi looks at Dis with a frown. Dis chuckles, "That is the Council Chambers." she says. "You will find that is a common sound coming from there on a daily basis." she tells Davi. Davi huffs, "Not if I can help it." she mumbles. Dis chuckles. "When Fili is king, You and he will be in there and can handle them however you like." Dis says with a chuckle. 

She begins to walk again and Loni looks around as he perches on Davi's shoulder. They walk down some steps and Dis leads them to the royal Bath house. She shows Davi where to go to change and tells Loni to wait in the hallway. Loni does and once they have changed and wrapped in a towel, she calls him to enter. He perches on Davi's shoulder again, careful not to sink his claws into her bare shoulder. He flies onto one of the benches and turns to face away from them when they settle on a pool to enter and slide out of their towels and slip into the pool. 

Loni hops over to them and perches on the edge of the pool next to Davi. Dis and Loni and Davi talk for a while and enjoy each other's company. After a bit, their bellies begin to grumble. "Loni, will you go see if it is time for lunch? We will go change and meet you in the hallway outside the bathhouse." She tells him. He squawks and flies off. "What did he say?" Davi asked as they got out of the pool and wrapped up in towels. 

"He just said, 'as my ladies wish'." Dis said. "Come, let's see what Bombur made for lunch for us." They both giggled as their stomachs made funny noises as they dressed. 

They entered the hallway and Loni flew down onto Davi's shoulder. He squawked and then nestled down onto Davi's shoulder and leaned against her neck. She giggled. "I love your soft feathers, Loni." she said as she reached up and petted him. He made his funny purr sound. Dis chuckled. "He likes your soft hair and warm skin." she tells Davi. "Loni said that everyone is meeting in the Royal dining chambers for lunch. So we had better go meet them there." Dis informs Davi.

They head for the Dining hall and Davi stops at the door. "Dis, will Loni be allowed into the dining hall? I don't want to upset Thorin. He already seems to dislike me." Davi asked nervously. 

"Loni will be fine, Davi. Thorin will understand. His raven followed him all over Erebor for months until they got used to each other. That raven can find him in the deepest parts of the mountain faster than anyone." she tells them. Loni squawks and nestles Davi's hair making her giggle. "Will you sit on my shoulder while we're eating though?" she asks him. He squawks and shakes his head. "No, he says he will sit on the back of your chair so you don't upset anyone." Dis tells you. 

Dis, Loni, and Davi enter the dining hall and everyone looks up. Thorin is scowling and his eyes open wide when he sees a raven on Little Shadow's shoulder. Fili grins and comes walking over. 

"Well hello there my beauties!" he tells the three of you. Dis chuckles and gives him a hug. "We went to Raven Hill and sent the raven to find the two guards. Loni here decided to be Davi's raven." she tells her son. He looks confused. "Davi? Amad, I thought you said her name was Raca?" Fili asked. Davi giggled. "It is, Fili, but my father picked the name. My mother hated it because he chose the name to spite me. Mother always wanted my name to be Davi because she cherished me. She knew dwarrowdams were rare and that I was not worthless like my father thought. I decided I no longer want to be called Raca. I want to be known as Davi." Davi explained. 

Fili grinned, realizing the significance of the name change. He nods, "Davi it is then." he says and give you a peck on the cheek. He reaches out to give Loni a pet. "Hello Loni. Are you enjoying your new friend?" he asks the bird. It squawks and rubs against Davi and she giggles. Fili grins. "Well good. I'm glad you like her. You are welcome to be hers till the end of your days." he tells the bird. The bird bows and gives a quiet, short squawk. Then nuzzles against Davi. 

Fili chuckles and takes Davi's hand and leads her to the table. Thorin watches the whole exchange silently and looks at Dis with a raised eyebrow. She glares at him and silently tells him to keep his trap shut about it. He frowns and nods. He watches as Fili leads Davi to the table and motions for her to sit between him and Kili. Loni hops onto the back of the chair and Kili looks up and grins. He reaches up and pets Loni. "Heya Loni! You hungry?" he asks. The bird squawks quietly and Kili chuckles. "She doesn't know about that yet. We'll make sure to tell her though." he tells the bird. It squawks again quietly and Kili chuckles. 

Bombur and his crew bring out the food and everyone is served. Fili leans over to Davi and tells her, "You look stunning in that dress, my Love. Loni says it is the Raven's favourite color on you." Davi giggles and blushes. "He is so soft. I love feeling his feathers rub against my neck when he nuzzles me." she says quietly. Fili chuckles. "Don't forget to give him treats. That's how you keep them happily serving you for their whole life." he suggests. 

Davi looks surprised. "Fili, what do they like for treats?" she asks.

"They will eat almost anything. Bugs, worms, any kind of meat scraps, but sweet berries are a treat for them and will keep them especially happy." he says grinning. 

Davi nods. She picks a blueberry off her plate and hands it to Loni. "Here, Loni. Have a treat. You've been good company for me and Dis this morning." she says. Loni makes his purring sound and gently takes the berry and flies down to the floor to munch on it. 

Thorin rolls his eyes and looks at Dis. She glares at him and raises an eyebrow. He sighs and goes back to eating. The boys ask what all they did this morning and Dis shares what they saw and did. When she mentions the music room, Thorin's ears perk up. "What were you doing in the music room?" he asks. 

"Loni wanted to know if I played an instrument or sang, sir." Davi said shyly. "So I showed them what I could play. He asked me to sing for him and Dis, so I did while I played." she says. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to be in there. I thought it was okay since Dis showed me it." she apologized quietly. 

Thorin's eyes got huge. He looked at Dis who was giving him a stern look. "It is fine. What do you play, if I might ask?" Thorin said, curious now. 

"The harp." Davi replies quietly. "Thorin looks over at Fili wide eyed. Fili just smirks. "And do you sing well?" Thorin asks. 

"I sing, Sir. Whether it is well or not, I do not know. Loni and Dis seemed to like it." Davi replied shyly. Loni flies over to Thorin and lands on the arm of his chair. He squawks quietly to the king for a moment and then Thorin's eyes get big. He nods and gives Loni a piece of meat from his plate and Loni flies off to the floor to eat it. 

"Your raven has said he wished to be your personal raven and that you have accepted him." Thorin says to Davi. She nods. "Is that ok, sir?" she asks. Thorin nods. "If Fili is in agreement, it is fine with me." he says. Your raven says you sing beautifully. Will you sing and play something for us when we finish eating?" Thorin asks. 

Davi looks panicked for a moment, but Dis, Fili, Balin, Dwalin and Kili all grin and nod. Davi looks back at Thorin and nods. "If that is your wish, I will sing and play you something." she says quietly. Thorin nods. 

There is a knock on the dining hall's door and Dwalin gets up to answer it. He returns with a large, old raven on his arm and he brings it over to Dis. The raven hops onto her arm and squawks quietly into her ear. Her eyes get huge and she looks at Dwalin and Davi. "What is it, Dis?" Davi asks. 

"The guards are still serving your father and have read the message from the raven. He says he sat on a tree nearby listening to the guards talking until he found the two we sent him to find. He said they are the only ones who read the message. They told him they would be happy to come serve at Erebor, but we will have to request their services before they could leave. 

Thorin looks confused. "Dwalin why was a raven sent to look for two guards? What is all this about?" he asks frowning. Dis looks up at Dwalin, who nods and she begins to tell Thorin what all they discovered this morning. Thorin is irate that anyone would treat one dwarrowdam that horribly, but two treated like that he was absolutely livid. Especially when he finds out who her mother is.

It took a stern look from Dis to finally silence him enough for her to finish her explanation of how these two guards are eye witnesses to what happened to Davi and her mother.  She explains that if Davi's father finds out these two guards are the ones who helped her escape, that they would be put to death instantly. 

Thorin frowned. "Davi, why would these guards risk their lives and the wrath of their king to help you escape an arranged marriage that would take you away from your father's abusiveness?" he asked. 

"Because they disliked what my father had done to my mother and I. They faithfully served my father only because of their concern for my mother and I. None of us knew anything about the prince I was arranged to marry. The guards knew my parent's marriage was an arranged one, they witnessed the abuse my mother and I both suffered at his hands. It angered them to see us treated the way we were, but there was little they could do to stop it. The guards did not wish that kind of an arranged marriage for me and knew I feared that kind of marriage more than anything. I asked them to help me escape and they did. Had I been allowed to converse with Fili ahead of time, I would not have ran and willingly married him and been happy to get away from my father, but I was not allowed to know anything about him or even who he was!" Davi explained. “My father will pass the kingship to my cousin since my father has no sons. My cousin hates how I and my mother were treated and I believe the soldiers who helped me escape must still be serving Adad because they hoped to hear how I fared or else they await the day my cousin assumes the throne and this rule from hell ends with my father's death. 

Thorin growled. "I see. And now you want me to request these two guards come serve here where they could help you escape again?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.  "Sir, I have no desire to run away from here. I have been treated with nothing but kindness by your family and the servants." Davi replied. "I promise you they will be your faithful and loyal servants. I just ask you treat them well. They have been through enough as have I." Davi pleads. 

Thorin nodded and rubbed his beard. "Dwalin what are your plans for these two guards should I agree to this?" Thorin asked. 

"They are to be Davi's and Fili's personal guards." Dwalin replied. "They are loyal to her and have already agreed to come should they be summoned." 

"I will think on the matter." Thorin replied. 

"I see you wear Fili's courting braids and beads. Have you agreed to the arranged marriage, then?" Thorin asks Davi.

She looks over at Fili, and he sees fear in her eyes. He quickly gives her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She calms and he turns to his uncle. "We have decided to court, Uncle. I wish to marry her, but am leaving it up to her. She has been through enough abuse and mistrust, I want to give her time to get used to me and my family and Erebor. If at the end of the courting timeframe, she decides not to marry me, I will let her go. If she decides she wishes to marry me, then we will let you know." he tells his uncle. 

Thorin frowns. "Fili, we made an agreement with her father..." Thorin starts to say. "And her father broke that agreement, Uncle, and didn't have the decency to notify us until I was half way there! He released me from the agreement, let us keep the dowry and told me I was free to marry whom I wished." Fili reminded Thorin. 

Thorin growled. "And what am I supposed to tell the Council when they find out the missing princess is here? What am I supposed to tell her father?" Thorin asked. 

Davi's eyes got huge and she looked at Fili with such terror in her face he feared she would bolt. He calmly stood and took her hand. He pulled her into his embrace and held her trembling body. 

"Now is not the time for this Uncle." He said and calmly ushered Davi out of the room. Loni saw them head for the door and he flew over to them and rode on Fili's shoulder as they left. 

Once they were out of the room, Fili ushered Davi to a nearby balcony that over looked the western slope of Erebor. He sat with her and let her cry. He held her and told her he would handle this with Thorin. He asked her what she wanted them to do about her father. She told them not to tell him she was found until the two soldiers were safely in Erebor. She told him to have Thorin request their permanent presence here in the mountain to guard the Crown Prince and his One Immediately. She suggested they send the same raven back to her friends with a message that she is safe and happy in Erebor. That she is Prince Fili's One and she is requesting them to come guard her and her Prince immediately, but not to tell anyone but the two guards and that no one but the two guards see this message. 

Fili agrees to tell Thorin. Loni hops down onto Davi's lap and nuzzles her hand. He squawks quietly and Fili chuckles. Davi looks up at him and Fili tells her, "Loni hopes you still choose to stay here in Erebor and that he hopes you will give Dis time to make Thorin come around."

Davi giggles. Fili stands and tells Loni to stay here with Davi for a moment. He goes back into the Dining Hall and tells his mother what Davi said. She nods and starts railing on Thorin. He growls back at her and she gets fed up and grabs him by the ear and drags him out the door. He is growling at her and yelling at her to let go of him. She winks at Davi as they walk by. Davi looks confused. Fili comes back to Davi and everyone from the dining hall is following Dis, knowing what is coming and wanting to see it happen. Fili whispers to Davi and explains what happened after they left and what is going to happen. She giggles. 

They follow to the practice arena and Dis kicks everyone else out except those from the dining hall who followed them. Everyone sits in the royal box to watch the entertainment. Dis rails at Thorin telling him what an idiot he is being and so on. She presents her case to Thorin and requests he allow her son to court Davi. He grumbles about it and she goes at him with her Battle axes. He defends himself with his sword and they go round and round and round until Dis gets her way and Thorin yields to her demands after she drops him at the edge of her blades for the umteenth time. He is growling, but caves and she gets her way. Everyone cheers and she drags Thorin up and smacks the back of his head with the flat of her axe. He rubs his head and frowns and growls at her."Go tell them!" she orders. He growls and she threatens to beat him again if he didn't go tell them.

He grumbles and goes to tell Fili he has his blessing to court Davi. Fili and Davi beam at him and thank him. He grumbles a 'you're welcome.' and they all follow Dis to the music room. Thorin is confused for a moment. "You asked for music after lunch. Well lunch is over, so now you get your music." she states. 

With that she leads Davi over to the harp and helps her get settled. Loni perches on Davi's shoulder and nestles and squawks quietly into her ear. Davi giggles and looks at Dis. Dis tells her Loni just says he can't wait to hear your pretty voice again. "What should I sing for Thorin?" she asks Dis. 

Dis thinks for a moment, and asks if she knows The Misty Mountains song? Davi nods. "Sing that." She says, "then go right into the song you sang earlier." Davi swallows nervously and closes her eyes and begins to play the harp and sing.

Everyone's jaws drop at the sound of Davi's voice. Thorin especially is astounded. Her voice takes him back to the night they sat in Bilbo's hobbit hole and reminds him of all he succeeded in accomplishing and all who helped him do it. Then she begins to sing the song her mother sang to her and he is taken back to his mother singing it to him and to his siblings. When she finishes the song, there isn't a dry eye in the room.

Balin stands and comes over to her and takes her hand. He places a gentle kiss on the top of it and thanks her for the lovely music. He winks and then heads to his and Dwalin's suite.

One by one the dwarves thank Davi for her music and head to their suites until only Fili, Dis and Thorin are left.

Thorin stands and slowly walks up to Davi. He looks down at her and reaches out to grasp her hand. She hesitantly places it into his large hand and he gently pulls her over to him. He wraps her in a gentle hug and thanks her for the beautiful music. He apologizes for being such an ass to her and asks if they can start over. She looks up at him and nods, surprised by his about face in attitude. He smiles at her and kisses her hand and nods to Dis and Fili. Then he goes to his chambers and thinks how he is going to make this whole situation work for Davi so her and her guards stay safely out of reach of her horrible father.

@fizzyxcustard​ @queenofmankind​ @thorinthehottotty​ @deepestfirefun​@dumbassunderthemountain​ @thetherianthropydaily​ @demoniccheese83 @tschrist1​ @daisy-picking-lady​ @legolaslovely​ @lotr-hobbit-imagines​ @aspookybunny​ @ellavaneck @emrfangirl​ @midnight-reader-morning-sleeper​

[goddessofthundathighs]

II. EXPOSED

One Year Later

“So how are things with you and Adonis “Beat the Pussy Up Like Fight Night” Creed?” Ashley quipped before devouring the spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Shhhh! Do you want all of LA to hear you?!” Amina cries, glancing around the corner of the booth they were seated in to make sure no one had heard.

“I just asked a simple question.”

“You did, very loudly. What if someone she knows is in here? Hell what if someone we know is in here?” Amina’s paranoia had grown in the last few months, especially after she almost sent Erik a racy photo that was intended for Adonis.

“If you’re so scared, why don’t you break it off?” Amara asks, finally joining in on the conversation. “You said yourself that this was only supposed to be a one time thing. What changed your mind?” Amina didn’t have an answer. Though Erik could be a bit harsh and slow to open up emotionally, he was a good man and he treated her like a princess. He was constantly telling her how much he adored her and how she’d changed him for the better. It broke her heart to think of how crushed he’d be if he found out what she was doing behind his back, but in the moment, when she was with Adonis nothing else mattered.

“It’s complicated.”

“I call bullshit,” Ashley said frankly. “Granted I don’t like Erik’s mean ass, but he doesn’t deserve this, Mina.”

“But you bitches were the ones encouraging me to do it in the first place!” Amina countered.

“Yes bitch, a one night stand! Once, singular, uno! You out here getting ya shit rocked every other night and I know Erik done picked up on the fact that your pussy ain’t poppin’ for him no more.”

When did this bitch become so damn inquisitive? Amina thought to herself, but again, Ashley was right. By the time Erik made it home for the night and was ready to have his way with her, she would be too tired from being with Adonis. Although he never said anything, she knew it hurt him to feel undesired.

“If he has, he hasn’t said anything.”

“He ain’t stupid, Mina. He knows,” Amara says, taking a sip of her drink. Amina sighed heavily. She knew that whatever she had with Adonis needed to end, especially since he showed no signs of leaving Bianca like he said he would.

“I’ll call him today and end things. I like having sex with him, but I love Erik more.”

“Good girl, and you know we’ll be here for moral support,” Ashley says rubbing Amina’s arm.

“Thanks y’all. I really don’t know what I’d do without y’all.” The women shared a group hug before Amina slid out of the booth. Ashley and Amara watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes and drive off in the direction of Adonis’s apartment.

“She gone end up sliding on dick,” Ashley says as Amina’s car disappears in the distance.

“I hope she’s smarter than that,” Amara replies distractedly, too consumed with the text message she was sending. “I’ll be back, I got a dick appointment.”

“Well fuck, just leave me all by myself then,” Ashley pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

“Girl you better call Rashad and get ya wig knocked askew,” Amara calls behind her with a grin, already halfway out the door.

**

The drive to Adonis’s apartment was short, partially because Amina had driven there so many times that she’d learned a shortcut that cut the commute in half. She sat in the parking lot, debating if she should just barge in unannounced or text him instead. She opted for the latter, mostly because she wasn’t prepared for a confrontation in front of Bianca. She drummed the steering wheel anxiously as she awaited his response.

Dominos 🍕: Text YES to complete enrollment. 6 msgs per Easy Order.

Donnie 🥊🏆: She’s not around me..

Dominos 🍕: Can I come by?

Donnie 🥊🏆: Not a good time..

Dominos 🍕: Can you talk?

Donnie 🥊🏆: I got a minute.

The line rang twice before Donnie’s deep voice emerged from the other side.

“What’s up ma?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Adonis,” Amina’s stern voice rang from the other end of the phone. It came out quick, almost as if she’d rushed the words and it caught Adonis off guard. He knew this day would come, but in his mind, he still had time to figure out what he was gonna do about Bianca.

“Come on Mina, I just need some more time,” he pleaded, chancing a glance at Bianca who was currently rehearsing for her latest performance. Though he loved her, his heart was also tied to Amina and he wasn’t sure how he would deal with the thought of losing either one of them.

“You’ve had a year, Adonis. Either make a decision soon or I’ll make it for you. I’m tired of sneaking around and deleting text message and location notifications. Either you’re gonna leave her or you’re gonna stay, there’s no inbetween.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Adonis replies. “Meet me at my place tonight at 7. I’ll make it right.” With that, the line went dead and Amina was left with her thoughts. Her mind reeled with thoughts of what Adonis might say during their meetup. Would he decide to end things himself? Were his feelings for her ever really genuine? She knew she shouldn’t feel some type of way, especially since she knew the situation she was getting herself into from the beginning, but she was still an emotional being that took everything personally, especially rejection. She shook her head as she pulled out of the parking lot and grabbed her phone again, calling the one person she knew would be able to talk her out of her emotions.

“Hey Siri, call Big Sis.”

**

“You raced over here, huh?” the deep timbre of his voice sent chills down her spine as she stepped into the apartment. African paintings and sculptures decorated the living room, a nod to his royal lineage.

“I guess I missed you or whatever,” she replies, twirling a curl around her finger.

“Whatever, you missed this dick,” he counters smugly, golden slugs peeking from behind his bottom lip as he smirked. It was a sight that had her clenching.

“That too, so gimme what I came over here for.”

“Oh that’s cute, you think you run shit over here. What’s my name?”

“Erik.” He chuckled darkly as he stepped closer to her.

“I don’t think I heard you right, so I’ma ask again. What’s my name?” She planted her feet in the spot she was standing, lifting her head to look him in the eye.

“Erik.” This time he reaches out and grabbed her throat, squeezing enough that it drew a moan from her soft lips.

“Last chance. What’s my name?”

“Eriiiiiiik!”

The more she screamed his name and clawed at his back, the deeper and harder he plunged into her. Erik had checked out a long time ago and Killmonger was awake with a new vengeance. He’d known that something was different with Amina for the last few months, but couldn’t quite pick up on what it was. Then when he checked her phone records and obtained copies of the text messages she’d been sending and receiving, the message was clear. She’d been cheating on him. While he was out of town on business, she was giving what was his to another man. It burned him up inside and the rage he felt was currently spurring his lust.

“That’s not my name, sweetheart. Try again,” he growled into her ear and her walls clenched tight around him, signaling yet another orgasm on the horizon.

“Oooh, you hardheaded tonight,” he hissed as he slowed his strokes briefly. “Who give you permission to cum?”

“I’m sorry, Kill,” she whined as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled darkly as he lined himself up with her entrance yet again.

“Oh you ain’t seen sorry, babygirl. Grab ya ankles.” He continued his rough pace, using her as his personal fuck doll until he had emptied himself into the condom.

“Clean yourself up, your sister will be home any minute,” he gestures to Amara, tossing her shirt to her. His name being called from the floor pulled his attention to Amara’s jeans beside her purse.

“Fuck.”

It ain’t cheating // It’s a whatchamacallit (Ooh ow!)

This could be our little secret // A whatchamacallit (Ow! Ooh)

TAGS: @vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @blktinkerbell @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @eye-raq @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bakarilennox @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @blackpantherismyish @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff @rick-sosa @jennajai @allhailqueennel @killmongersbaby @yoursoulstea @soulfulbeauty19 @laughdown @panthergoddessbast @abeautifulmindexposed @alexundefined @yoyolovesbucky @ghostfacekill-monger @tyees @dessianna1 @thickemadame

[laylacooke]

It’s Just Like Lotion, Right? || Raul & Layla

timing: During the weeks the carnival was in town parties: @bloodapples& @laylacooke summary: With Raul’s help, Layla plays an exciting game of Hanyo! warnings: Hanyo tw [you’ve been warned.] 

Layla had longed for something to get her mind off things, but in a healthy way. The last week had been the most heartless and cruelest week of her life, and while she didn’t feel like she deserved happiness right now, she at least needed a break. Hearing laughter and seeing the bright lights not too far off, Layla found herself at the carnival. Paying for a ticket and entering the attraction, the young wolf took in the sights, and then she spotted it; a big catfish monster plush. The thing was almost hideous but had big black eyes and long dangly whiskers that made it cute. It was half the size of Layla’s own body. But as lonely as she had been, she had longed to have it so she could cuddle up with it at night. However, seeing what you had to do made her a little apprehensive, “What the hell is Hanyo?”

Roller coasters were lit up in metal spirals and gyres against the night sky. Tents full of games, prizes, and performances were strung and playfully garish flashing signs. Fortune tellers and challenges for the bored and gullible dotted the inroads between the tents. The Ferris wheel dominated the skyline, a behemoth somehow erected in the space of a single night.  

Raul had been sitting with some of his fellow farmlands at the tent the Salazar homestead had been allowed to set up to sell food so long as the vampires adhered to the Ringmasters' rules. Raul’s spirit had been freed from all remorse and regret, but bereft of a soul to anchor it, his interest tended to wander. Thus the redhead’s plight at a nearby tent had caught his attention. 

“It’s like mayonnaise you can put on your hands,” Raul told her upon wandering over. 

“Be nice little brother,” Emilio chided his younger clanmate telepathically through the bond vampires of the same lineage shared, his mental voice warm with an undercurrent of laughter. 

“Hold back your thirst little brother,” came Ignacio’s sterner telepathic command, his mental presence the cold flame to Emilio’s roseate mirth. “The Master has expressly forbidden us from feeding on the carnival..” 

“Oh lighten up Ignacio,” interrupted Diego’s sardonic psychic voice. “Little Raul is gonna be real polite to ginger chica aren’ you … right Raul?” For all of Diego’s amiable playfulness, there was always a razored edge within his smile. 

“Yeah yeah guys I get it,” Raul shot back to his clansmen mentally before returning his full attention to Layla. “It’s like lotion but...like edible y’know?”  

Layla narrowed her eyes. It was a bit strange, but what in this town wasn’t? As the random guy explained it to her, she paused for a moment to think it over. What could be the worst thing that happened? Last week had taken the cake from assault to stealing a tractor and wrecking it. Pondering the idea of sticking her hands into the off white, thick substance, she looked to the man standing next to her, “And I win a prize, just for putting my hands in this stuff?” The smell radiating off it from the summer heat kind of turned her stomach, considering werewolf senses heightened everything, but she wanted that damn catfish monster. The dumbest and simplest thing that could bring her pleasure in a world full of darkness right now, “Fine. I’ll do it.” She stepped a little closer to the booth waiting for his instructions, somewhat glancing at the other guys sitting at the tent and giving them a soft, but sad smile. “Has anybody won tonight?”

Raul Torres didn’t have the capacity for empathy, at least not since killing others in the blind frenzy of bloodthirst had led a once soft-hearted young to relinquish his soul under the weight of that guilt. Yet, that didn’t stop him from at least noticing the girl’s rueful manner. Raul felt curiosity rather than compassion or concern but focusing on anything other than the omnipresent thirst that gnawed inside of him was a welcome distraction. 

“Not that I’ve seen,” admitted Raul as he leaned against one of the tent poles. “We’ve been handling food.” The fledgling vampire nodded back to the concession stands full of farm-grown food some of his clanmates were running nearby, several of the young men nodding to Layla with toothy smiles.  “So been avoiding getting that stuff on our hands” 

Raul glanced up at the sign above the bored face-mask wearing fellow running the malodorous Hanyo game. “Looks like there's a marble somewhere in there. Find it before time’s up and you winna prize.” 

Layla noticed Rauel’s friends smiling at her. Returning a small grin, she looked back to the booth in front of her. She wanted that prize. And the instructions sounded easy enough. However, the guy running the booth didn’t seem too excited. Maybe that was a good sign. It meant no losing limbs or getting sucked into a world of Hanyo.

She looked back to Rauel, “I’m gonna do it.” The smell seemed like it was getting worse, but if she could stomach it for a little while longer, that Catfish Monster plush was hers.

Taking a deep breath, and gagging a little, she stepped forward. As she slipped her hands down in the vat of goop, the warmth where it had been roasting in the sun all day made her shudder, “Oh dear Lord, what am I doing?” Seeing the masked man flip on the timer, without so much as a warning. Layla started digging around in the thick, off-white sludge. Creamy or moist wasn’t words she had ever wanted to hear again, and she was pretty sure the smell would haunt her until the day she died.

Raul’s senses had all sharpened after he’d woken up in a morgue in Oaxaca de Juárez. He’d previously thought of death as a cold numbness, but the truth was that since rising up as a vampire everything was incredibly intense. Raul experienced the world like an animal predator now, every color, stray movement, sound, or smell so vivid that at first, it’d been overwhelming. 

Some were more intense than others of course, even while talking to this girl Raul could tell she was alive. Her heartbeat seemed to thud in the back of his mind, the warm blood in her veins humming like a live power line. There’d been a time where Raul would've gotten distracted and blushy around a beautiful face framed by autumnal hair that fell down supple shoulders. But now Raul couldn’t help unconsciously seeing the living as prey, a viscous instinct that invariably tainted his other thoughts even if Raul tried to suppress it. 

Of course, those supernaturally keen senses came with other drawbacks. 

Such as making sun-heated mayo all over some chica’s hand smell like she’d perfumed herself up with world war mustard gas. 

“Mierda,” Raul gagged, his eyes watering. “Wait I’ll …” He gave Layla a wide berth while trying to retrieve some hand sanitizer and wipes to offer to her. 

Layla continued to dig around in the thick, creamy sludge. Her eyes were already in tears, and she could just make out the time on the nearby clock counting down. Moving a little faster as she suppressed gagging, the teenager finally found what she was looking for, “Gotcha you tiny little bastard.”

Pulling her hand out of the huge container of mayo, before the time ran out, Layla quickly stepped back and started coughing more than she had originally intended. Full blown tears were now pouring out of her squinted eyes, but any chance at wiping them away was impossible, and she knew if she had brought her mayo layered arms and hands closer to her face, she would surely vomit.

Eyes shifting between Raul, who was looking for hand sanitizer and wipes, and the unhappy worker who had been hovering over the large vat of off-white goop, she slowly held up the marble, “I found your marble. Please tell me that damn Catfish Monster, that’s nearly the same size as me, is mine. Otherwise, I might just steal it and run.” The last part was almost a joke, but after what she had just endured (and was still enduring, until she could clean her hands), she was seriously starting to consider it.

With Raul back in no time, Layla gladly took the sanitizer and wipes utilizing them to the best she could resorting to her only other option when it wouldn’t fully come off; her jeans. She would burn them when she got home.

Catfish Monster plush in tow, she squealed at her accomplishment as she said a quick goodbye and thanks to Raul, his buddies, and the unhappy looking man who had kept score of the game. Despite having that lingering smell in her nostrils, that would probably last a lifetime, Layla happily left the carnival satisfied with her prize and her one game she had played. It was a good night, and one she had needed. And she couldn’t wait to see the look on Indy’s cute little face when she came home with something that was nearly five times his size.

[saang]

accidentally just stayed up all night writing more of my medieval au 👀👀

anyway this one goes out to @rllyjohnrlly because they made me art so i wrote them a fic!!

word count: 1900

read on ao3

“We could take the long way to the kingdom,” Toph suggested. “That way we can guarantee more time together.” 

“To swordfight, I presume. You wouldn’t have an ulterior motive,” Aang smiled.

“Of course not, who do you take me for?” Toph reached out for his hand and held it. Her sword fastened in his belt with his own for the time being, until she got a safe place for it herself.

“Then, we’ll take the long way to the kingdom. Effectively adding two additional months to our journey. To swordfight, of course,” Aang squeezed Toph’s hand lightly. Her hand fitting perfectly in his. Her hands weren’t calloused like his, they were soft. They were soft, but she knew how to use them.

Toph let out a small laugh as they walked on the beaten path of the forest floor. They walked on a patch that had been once crossed a thousand times, but seldom still knew it existed. Aang led her across vines and branches and grass. 

“This path was once the most popular way to get to the coast,” Aang said. “But when the earthquake happened and left the cliff, it was completely forgotten.”

“There’s a cliff? I never knew that.” Toph reached out feeling the close net trees of the path. It was amazing how nature reformed after human interference. The leaves tickling her fingers as they brush by.

“Very few do. I did say it was completely forgotten, didn’t I?” Aang lightly nudged Toph’s shoulder. Toph scoffed playfully. “We’re coming to a clearing pretty soon. Do you want to have your first official swordfighting lesson?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Toph stepped forward, urging Aang to move faster.

“I guess not,” Aang chuckled. He walked towards the clearing faster, Toph keeping pace with him. 

“Alright, so,” Toph started. “What are we going to learn first?”

“We are going to learn the proper stance.”

“Ugh, boring. When are we going to learn the fun stuff?” 

“After you know how to uphold a good stance,” Aang explained. He guided her into a proper position. “Stance is the most important part of swordfighting. Without a good stance, you’re off balance and it is much easier for your opponent to gain the upper hand.”

“Ugh, fine,” Toph said, holding her sword out in front of her. Aang had taken great care in restoring it for her. Cleaning off the rust, sharpening it. Making sure it was at tiptop shape for when Toph actually started using it. 

Toph was a quick learner, picking up proper etiquette easily and well. Training went swimmingly for the next few weeks. They’d travel, train, set up camp or stay in an inn, but the closer they got to the Beifong Kingdom of Gaoling, the more they started to realize what would happen in the end.

Aang would go back to his kingdom. Toph would be married off to a nobleman to carry on the family lineage. They would part ways, and the only thing Toph would have to remember him by was a sword that her parents probably wouldn’t let her use. 

“Aang,” Toph said one night. Her head rested on his chest as he stared up at the stars. “Is this really the last time we’ll ever see each other?”

“Do you want the hopeful answer or the realistic answer?” 

“Realistic.”

“As much as it hurts me to say, even think about,” he took a deep breath, preparing to say the words he had been dreading. “Probably not.”

“Two weeks,” Toph said. “That’s how long we have with each other until we never see each other again.”

“Fourteen days, three hundred thirty-six hours.”

“What’s the hopeful answer?” Toph asked.

“Well, we would show up to the Beifong Kingdom and your parents would immediately accept our relationship. We would live out the rest of our lives together.” Aang dreamed up the scenario. He squeezed the arm around Toph a little tighter.

“We would have kids, three of them,” Toph played along. Aangs shirt was getting wet from Toph’s tears, but neither cared.

“What would their names be?” Aang played with Toph’s fingers. He was desperate to keep the tears at bay and unsuccessful.

“Bumi, Tenzin, and Poppy.”

“Poppy is your mother’s name, right?” 

“Yeah, it is,” Toph said it softly, barely able to be heard. “I was six, when I ran away.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Toph,” Aang told her in response. 

“If there’s anyone in the world I want to know this, it’s you.”

Toph described it in such vivid detail, that even without visual cues Aang was able to picture it all. Toph was six when she ran away. She had disguised herself as a servant and snuck out. At last, she was free, to do what she wished without anybody telling her to have better posture, or sit like a lady. She could feel the fresh grass in between her toes. The chilled air against her arms and the warm sun on her face. 

It was amazing, Aang felt a sense of freedom listening to her tell the story. However, all stories have a twist. Toph had had her first taste of freedom ten years prior, quickly she learned that freedom also meant danger. She learned how scary being blind could actually be. She sought refuge in the Southern Kingdom. It was cold, icy, barren, but the people were kind. They gave her food to eat and clothes to wear. 

Katara and Sokka, the crown prince and princess of the Southern Kingdom. Passionate, kind, caring. They weren’t too much older than her at the time. Katara was eight and Sokka was nine. They left her with a new sense of hope that she could make it in the world. They assured her that she always had a place in the Southern Kingdom if she were to need it.

She set off on her adventure, replenished, revitalized and ready to take on the world. She was faced with challenges of all kinds. People wanting to undermine her. People who wanted to hurt her. People who thought she looked a lot like the Beifong’s missing princess. No one really looked that far into the last one.

People were rude and scary, like the princess of the Equator Kingdom. Azula. Azula’s uncle and brother saved her, gave her shelter, food. Somewhere safe from not only Azula but the harsh realities of the world. Zuko was four years older than her, already fourteen when they had met. His uncle, Iroh, was a lot older, he never said his age but Toph guessed it was quite old.

She left the Equator Kingdom, ready to face the world, knowing the dangers of it. She stumbled upon where she would spend most of her days until a ceratin soldier from the Eastern Kingdom would walk in. 

She arrived in the Republic of Kyoshi, the first and only Republic in the world. The ruler wasn’t decided by parentage but by merit. She was adopted into a group of strong-willed girls, not unlike herself. Eight years were spent living peacefully, well as peaceful as it could get. That is, however, until a soldier came along. He found out who Toph was, they had agreed that they would return Toph to her kingdom. The Beifong Heiress would return. Toph couldn’t remember the name of the soldier, it was a complete blank.

“I think it started with an ‘E’?” Toph joked. “Then again ‘I’ and ‘O’ are also very realistic,”

“Did this soldier happen to fall in love with you?” Aang asked, going along with Toph.

“I think I can remember that happening,” Toph laughed. “I can also remember falling in love with him too.”

“Oh, really now?” Aang played with Toph’s hair that was sprawled on his chest. “And you still don’t remember his name?”

“Let me think about it,” Toph paused. “Nope, nothing.”

The fall asleep under the full moon and the bright constellations. They woke up to the rising sun in the east. They packed up their makeshift campsite and continued their journey. They tried to justify extending their trip. They bought themselves a few extra days before they were face to face with the doors of the palace.

“I remember there being a few artisans booths, we could stay at one a little while before we enter the palace?” Toph suggested. “Besides, I bared my whole life story to you, I need something in return.” 

It was a dry attempt at humour, but it was the only thing keeping them from breaking down. “Alright, where to start?”

Aang told Toph about where he was born first, hr figured he would start at the beginning. A little hospital outside of the capital. The fire that ended up taking both of his parent’s lives and many others. The heat that Aang could still feel at night sometimes. 

He was adopted by a monk, Gyatso. He trained his whole life to be a soldier. He wanted to save as many lives as he could. He looked out the window sometimes wod=ndering when it would be his turn to protect the people he cared about. 

His hope and his determination depleted when Gyatso passed away when he was twelve. The soldiers saw the boy with a dream and adopted Aang into their ranks. For three years he trained with the best soldiers of the Eastern Kingdom. 

One day, Aang was sent out to patrol. He got lost down a beaten path that led to a cliff. An old man drinking tea told him about the cliff’s past. The earthquake the path once taken. The life lived before the generation came to be. 

He followed the cliff, the shoreline until he found the Republic of Kyoshi. He saw a beautiful girl, arguably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He introduced himself to the girl, telling her his name. Although, he can’t seem to remember her name. He discovered she was the princess that had ran away ten years ago, and they set a course for Goaling.

“And here we are, you're all caught up,” Aang said. “My whole life story.”

“Alright,” Toph smiled sadly, “I guess its time for us go to the palace.” 

They arrived at the doors of the palace for the second time that day. Aang stood by her side as she greeted the Kingdom again. After a decade of being lost, she was finally found. 

“You’re alive!” Her father shouted. “I never thought I’d see you again!”

“We did everything we could, we’re so glad to have you back!” Her mother welcomed her back with a hug. She had a faint sense that Aang was getting ready to leave. She let go of her mother’s hug and stepped back.

“I’m back on three conditions,” Toph said.

“What are they?”

“One, Aang gets to stay.” Aang turned around, eyes wide in shock at Toph’s condition. “Two, he can court me if he so chooses, and three he gets to teach me swordfighting.”

“Toph, you can’t be serious,” her mother laughed. “A woman wielding a sword? That’s blasphemous.”

“You do need an heir, don’t you?” Toph asked.

“I suppose that Aang can stay. He can court you, and he can teach your swordfighting, if he so chooses.” Toph turned to Aang and ran into his arms. 

“I guess we don’t have to choose between hopeful and realistic.”

[talistheintrovert]

Hold Onto Hope

@clarkgriffon requested marper as snowing and my wife gets whatever she wants 💕 (also I had a genuinely difficult time deciding which half of the pair they were, so thank you for that my love) 

read it here or on ao3!

***

For the first time in a long time, Harper felt guilty about robbing someone. 

She couldn’t put her finger on why - it wasn’t like that spoilt Princess didn’t deserve it - but something about the way the Prince had chased after her, and his pleasantly surprised expression when he pulled her hood off and saw her face, just made her feel a little bad when she kicked him in the stomach and stole one of his horses. 

“I’ll find you!” Prince Monty called after her as she galloped his carriage horse away into the forest, his fiance’s purse tucked under her arm. Oddly, it didn’t sound as much like a threat as it did a promise, and she found herself almost looking forward to a rematch. 

In her defence, she would never have stooped to robbery before the Evil King ousted her from the throne, and she would never rob anyone if she didn’t think they could live without whatever she took. Obviously she didn’t have time to explain that business model to the Prince while she was robbing him, but perhaps the next time they saw each other. 

***

The next time they saw each other proved to be sooner than she expected. Three days, in fact. 

She fell right into one of his traps and ended up tied to a tree trunk while he pointed a sword at her, “Told you I’d find you. Where are the jewels?”

“That’s what was in that purse?” she played dumb, blinking up at him. 

“Where are they?” he repeated, clearly not in the mood.

“I sold them, that’s what you do with stolen goods,” she said, squinting up at him defiantly, and she definitely saw his lips move upwards, just a little. 

“Funny,” he deadpanned, as if he hadn’t just smiled at the joke. “Who did you sell them to?”

“I don’t know, I have a fence.” 

“A fence?”

“Yeah, it’s this person who helps you sell stolen goods, like-”

“I know what a fence is,” he said, cheeks flushing with embarassment. “Who’s your guy?”

“She’s... private,” Harper raised an eyebrow at him. 

Prince Monty sighed. “Look, I’m not going to have anyone arrested or anything. I don’t particularly like the King either, I don’t blame you for robbing his carriages, I just want the ring back. You can keep the profit from whatever else you sold in the bag, but the ring was mine.”

“You’re fine with me selling your fiance’s jewels?” Harper asked, incredulous. “Romantic of you.”

“You know as well as I do what these arranged marriages are like,” he sighed, letting his sword drop to his side. “I don’t even like her. She’s Queen Nia’s niece and she’s awful and I don’t think she wants to marry me any more than I want to marry her, but this is how it is. Honestly I’m kind of jealous of you.”

“Me?” She narrowed her eyes at him and he pulled a scrunched up piece of paper from his pocket. It was a Wanted Poster with her face on it, name scrawled underneath with the enormous bounty lighting up the parchment, and she wanted to stick her dagger through it, but her hands were stuck. “Ah. You know who I am.”

“You got out,” he said, shrugging. 

“I’m being hunted across the kingdom,” she pointed out. “The King’s guards are after me, I have to rob his carriages to stay afloat, and all because he wanted to steal the throne from my family. There’s nothing about my life that you should want.”

“Hey, you get to rob carriages, ten-year-old me would have loved that,” he grinned, “and twenty-year-old me thinks it’s pretty cool too.”

She hummed pensively. “Are you just trying to find the ring so you can have one last shot at being a rogue before you get married?” 

He thought it over for a moment before he cut the ropes holding her to the tree and sat down next to her. “I want the ring because it belonged to my mother, and there aren’t many things I have left of hers. The adventure is just a bonus.”

She regarded him carefully. “Well, at least you’re honest.” 

***

They kept to the shadows as they shuffled into the tavern. She’d given him a cloak to wear over his royal clothes and he welcomed the anonymity, even if it did earn him some disgruntled looks from people as they passed. Harper made a beeline for a booth in the corner. 

“Hey Harp, long time no see,” the woman looked bored. 

“Hey Mori,” she grinned. 

“This is the prince, huh? You’re right, he’s cute,” she said, looking Monty up and down, and Harper felt her cheeks getting warm. She elbowed Emori, but the woman only smirked at her. “I checked the inventory, and I sold that ring yesterday.”

“Shit,” Harper groaned. “Who to?”

“Oh no, we’re not doing this again, you’re not going on another crusade for someone you don’t even know, we’ve talked about this!” Emori complained. “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile and you keep helping people and it’s not helping.”

“Mori.” Harper looked at her earnestly. 

She sighed, irritated, and slid a piece of paper across the table. “I sold it to a grounder rebel. She lives near the ruins of the old castle, and she doesn’t like strangers.”

“Great,” Harper tucked the name into her pocket. “I always like making new friends.”

“Being friends with you is stressful, you know that?” Emori asked, clasping her hand before she slid from the booth and disappeared into the frey. Harper looked to Monty, who was staring at her with an indefinable expression in his eye. 

“What?”

“Nothing, you’re just... good at this.”

“Good at what, being a criminal?”

“People,” he said, smiling. “Talking to them, understanding them, putting them at ease. You would have made a good queen.”

She opened her mouth to respond only to find she had nothing to say, so instead, she grabbed his hand and dragged him from the tavern and out into the night, definitely not thinking about the fact that it took him longer than it should have to let go of her fingers. 

***

She dove behind an upturned cart, dragging Monty down with her. He landed on top of her, noses practically touching as yet another flaming arrow whipped overhead. 

“You know, when I told you I’d help you get your ring back, I didn’t think it would involve fire,” she muttered, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at his closeness. He laughed breathlessly and rolled off her, picking her dagger off the ground.  

“What’s the plan?”

“I’ll let you know when I have one,” she said. “In the meantime, keep your head down and don’t die. I really don’t want a dead prince on my record on top of the other stuff.”

“Just admit you’re actually starting to like me,” he said, gaze cutting across to her, and she ducked her head. 

“You wish,” she said, and then leapt over the cart, bow drawn, and sent three arrows towards the advancing grounder. The woman hissed in pain and dropped her flaming bow, backing up with her hands raised. Harper tilted her head. “Let’s try this again. As I said before, I’m not here to rob you. I’m not here to arrest you or anyone else. I’m just here to ask for a ring back, something my fence sold you yesterday.”

The dark-haired woman frowned. “But you’re royals - he’s a prince.”

“I was, I’m not anymore,” Harper said. “And this prince isn’t too bad, as far as royals go.”

“Who are you?” 

“No-one important,” she smiled, warm, genuine. “I’m just a girl who sold something that didn’t belong to her, and wants to give it back.”

“You’re a thief?”

“Of sorts.”

“What’s so important about the ring?” 

“Nothing, except to this one guy,” she said. “I’ve got ten other pieces of jewellery worth twice what it cost, and I’d be happy to trade you for them, or even give you the gold you paid for it - plus interest.”

The woman eyed her up. “You’re the Wanted Princess, right? I can see it now - the posters don’t do you justice, but I can see it. Why are you helping a prince? I thought you swore off all the royals when you went on the run.”

“Harper,” she introduced herself by folding her bow and arrow back into their sling, a sign of peace. “And like I said, this one isn’t all bad. He can’t help his lineage any more than I can.”

The woman took a moment, and then stepped forward, extinguishing the flaming arrow on the ground between them. “Octavia. You’re alright, McIntyre. I like you. You can tell your prince he can come out now, I’m not going to shoot him.”

“He’s not my prince,” Harper mumbled, as Monty crept out from behind the cart, smiling anxiously at their attacker. 

“Hi. Sorry.” 

“What are you apologising for?” Octavia asked. 

“Uh. Being a prince, I guess,” he said. 

She snorted. “Well that’s a first. Don’t worry about it, Green, if you’re hanging around this sort you can’t be totally awful.”

“Does that mean you’re open to trade?” Harper asked, hopeful. 

Octavia scoffed and tossed something into the air. It spun, catching the light, over Harper’s head and into Monty’s chest. He clutched at it, surprised to find that it was his mother’s ring, and looked back to the rebel, who just lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “You can keep the ring, I don’t need it.”

“We can’t just take it, what do you want in return?” 

Octavia regarded her. “Just... when you bring the fight back to the Evil King, invite me along. That’s all the reward I need.”

“Deal,” she said, holding her hand out for the woman to shake. They clasped fingers, a promise cemented, and Harper passed her a vial of something as she let go. “Fairy dust, so that you can find me if you need me.”

“Whatever,” she said, but there was something soft behind her hard expression. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Harper spun on her heel and grabbed Monty’s hand, leading him back through the woods towards the road where they’d left the horses. 

“See,” he said, smug. 

“What?”

“People,” he said insistently, “Harper McIntyre - the people’s queen.”

She turned away from him, untying the horses so he couldn’t see the blush rising in her cheeks. “Yeah, well... maybe someday.”

“Someday,” he agreed, taking the reins off her. This was it - their little adventure was over, he had no reason to stay - but still, he hesitated. “What are you going to do now?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you,” she smiled. “Reasonable deniability, you know.”

“True,” he said, but he still wasn’t moving. 

“Is that... is that for your fiance?” Harper asked, looking at the ring still clasped in his hand. 

He blinked, like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. “Uh. Well. I guess so, but... I think I might keep it for now. I don’t love my fiance, and I’m pretty sure my mother would kill me if she knew I was letting her ring be worn by someone I’m not in love with. Not a perfect fit, she’d say, and she’d be right.”

“Can I see it?” Harper asked, and held out her hand. 

Rather than placing the ring in her palm, he turned her hand over and slid the ring onto her fourth finger, and there was something fizzling in the air between them as she admired the green gem in the fading light. 

It was a perfect fit. 

“You know what,” Monty said, eyes earnest as they caught hers, “I think you should hold onto it. Clearly I’m not the best person to keep an eye on it.”

“No, I couldn’t-”

“I’ll come get it when I���ve found someone my mother would be proud of,” he said, fingers warm against the back of her hand, thumb running along her palm. “You keep it until then, so you know you still have friends who wear royal crests. As a reminder that we’re not all the Evil King - some of us are on your side.”

“I’m not trying to make sides.”

He shook his head vehemently. “But people will take yours anyway, Harper. Because you’re what they need, and the more you do what you do, the more they’ll join you. Even people in castles.”

He let their hands drop between them and backed towards his horse, swinging a leg over it and settling himself in the saddle. She took the cue to climb onto her own horse - or rather, the one she’d stolen from him - and start trotting in the other direction. 

“Harper?” Monty called out. 

She glanced over her shoulder. He already felt so far away. “Yeah?”

He smiled softly, “I’ll find you.” 

***

Harper woke up in a cold sweat, trying to remember the dream. It had felt so real at the time, but now it was slipping away. 

It was silly, really, to still have fantasies about fairytale princes, but something about the dream made her feel wistful for it, and she tried to shake the feeling off so she could get ready for work. 

She sat up in bed, stretching, and thought about what Madi had said the night before - that odd story she’d been telling about her true love being a prince from a storybook, and she decided her dreams must have latched onto the idea. She wondered if Madi had managed to convince Clarke to stay in town yet, and she made a mental note to check in on her that afternoon, maybe bring her some cupcakes to show her how welcome she was. 

She walked into town, the dream steadily slipping away, but the edges of it caught in her memory, like she couldn’t quite let go, and as she walked into Miller’s diner, she thought she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. 

“Monty?”

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 28

*NEW CHAPTER*

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5* Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * Chapter 18 * Chapter 19 * Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 * Chapter 22 * Chapter 23* Chapter 24 * Chapter 25 * Chapter 26 * Chapter 27

As always, you can read the story thus far on A03  HERE

Tags: @jodiereedus22, @shambhalala, @missdictatorme

Reviews and comments are always appreciated!

You are a Mudd after all.

The words fell like cement bricks and with each word, crushing and taking the life out of anything she had ever known about herself. Her only solace, the unwavering loyalty to her mother that expanded well beyond Susan Spencer's death. Surely her mother would have told her if she was related to a person mixed up with one of the most famous assassinations in history. Being the adult she was, Faith responded to the suspicious accusation with a solid opening argument.

“Am not!”

"I may be many things Miss Spencer, but I assure you a liar is not one of them," Jasper informed her, his hands clasped together solemnly in front of him.

Faith shook her head.

“Not possible.”

Jasper circled her chair, bending down to grab the item on the floor behind Faith. Once in front of her, he held it in front of her face.

"I'm sure by now, you're familiar with this little piece of history here."

 The Bible she had found in her mother's hope chest. The dull gold lettering still carried enough luster to glint in the late afternoon sun. Faith stared at it her jaw set tight. That little book that had led up to now, to everything that had come to pass in the last 38 days. She couldn't decide if she coveted it or despised it.

She turned her cold glare to Jasper.

“I'll take that as a yes then,” He said, cradling the book in his lame hand while he flipped through the aged pages with the other.

"Did you know Miss Spencer that Bibles served as a family ledger? Marriages, births, deaths, all recorded right here," Jasper patted the open pages gently. Without waiting for her reply, he flipped casually to the back cover. Faith drew in a nervous breath as Jasper produced a small penknife from the pocket of his pants. With the delicateness of a heart surgeon, he ran the sharp edge along the seam. The substance holding the page against the back gave way, emitting that crackling sound only old glue can make, revealing the true last page of the Bible.

“Now my dear, what was your father's name?” Jasper asked.

No, I'm done. I'm not playing this game, Faith thought stubbornly. She hated when anyone brought up her father. It made her body feel like hot, heavy, angry steel ready to singe anyone that broached the topic with her. So the last person on this earth she was going to let bring her to that level was her captor.

Jasper rounded Faith and slammed his hand around her forearm, gripping it tightly to the arm of the chair. Holding the penknife, he brought the point to the soft hollow under her arm atop her elbow. Faith felt the zing down her arm as the knife tip hit the tendon lying beneath her skin.

“His name dear,” He asked again, his face close enough to her ear that he need only speak in that soft southern drawl barely above a whisper.

Faith muttered under her breath.

Jasper slid the penknife into her skin, not with a quick jab of a person only looking to get a response but with a slow, deliberate push, he meant not only inflict pain but to relish in the pleasure Faith's scream gave him.

She bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself.

“His name?” He asked, his voice taking on a breezy, lithe tone.

"Everett. Everett Spencer," She acquiesced. Her eyes screwed shut to stop the tears brought on by the searing pain in her arm.

"Everett!" Jasper said with a flourish, snapping the little blade closed and turning his attention back to the book.  

"You see my dear, not only do we have a list of genealogy here but also a line of ownership. Did you know that you were the only firstborn girl in the Mudd family in almost 150 years?"

Jasper held the Bible's last page open for Faith to see.

The men back then had such pretty penmanship, she thought. The list of names started in such an elegant script, the names leaving the swelling dots and faded trail of ink that only a fountain pen could produce. The line of names progressed as the sophistication of the signatures declined. The last two names made her stomach churn. Her mother did always say her father had the handwriting of a kindergartener.

Samuel Alexander Mudd

Thomas Samuel Mudd

Spencer Thomas Mudd

Alexander Spencer

Everett Alexander Spencer

Faith Evelyn Spencer

"Do you see the pattern? The firstborns received their father's name as their middle name, to honor the family lineage no doubt," Jasper spoke with the certainty of knowledge that Faith wished she had.

"Then your grandfather, after years of having generations of his family the target of persecution, casually dropped the notorious last name. From himself on, they were simply Spencers. As you can see, though, the tradition did continue. I'm sure having a girl did throw a wrench into the works, but Evelyn is a very fine replacement for Everett." Nox clicked his heel against the other one as his pacing drew to a stop quickly in front of her. "Am I being clear enough, Miss Spencer? I know timelines and names can be difficult to follow," Jasper concluded, talking as a person would to a slow child.

Faith balled her fists, her thumbnail cutting into the skin of her fingers.

“I got it,” She said flatly, her far away stare fixed on the sand that dusted the concrete floor.

"So, as I have said, just tell me where I can find the Booth diary and the confession, and I will be on my way."

“I can't tell you what I don't know,” Faith spat at him. Jasper pursed his lips and pinched the bridge of his thin nose.

"My dear, you are tryin' my patience," He said with his eyes shut. He produced a monogrammed linen handkerchief for the pocket of his white jacket. Lavender initials stitched into delicate the fabric that hung heavily with dampness and emitting a strange, fruity aroma.

"My father's been dead over ten fucking years, how could he tell me where it was?" She yelled, her frustration reaching its peak while Jasper wiped the head of his cane, the smell coming from it growing more pungent.

Jumping the cane up in his hand, he grasped the shaft and swung it across Faith's face. The eagle top slammed into her cheek, the beak tearing her skin as her head snapped to the side. The jagged cut welled up immediately with blood.

Faith began to tremble as she hung her head. Tears of pain bloomed in the corner of her eyes and threatened to flow.

Jasper plucked at the front of his pants before hunkering down in front of Faith.

"Now what did I say about language?" He said mildly, tipping up Faith's chin with the head of his cane to make sure that her eyes could meet his. Her tear-streaked cheeks served as a suitable answer for Nox.

"Whether you love them or hate them, my dear, family is important and back then all a man had at the end of the day was his good name to hang his hat on. And once that good name is thoroughly sullied, it could take years, decades to bring it back into the good graces of society. Repentance be damned," Jasper spat angrily, turning on his heel towards the ocean, his fury clamped lips disappearing under his red mustache.  

Only family can make someone that angry, Faith recognized. Her brown eyes crinkled with realization, “You're an Atzerodt.”

Jasper turned to face her. "While some families had to live with the dirt that stained the pages of their legacy, some just removed the pages entirely. Gave themselves a new last name," He continued with contempt but without acknowledgment of her statement. "It may have taken over a century, but my family name will be cleared, I will not have a Mudd get in the way yet again. Now please, I implore you,"  he said as he wiped the head of his cane again, "tell me where it is."

"I don't know. I wish I did! I would tell you. I don't know. Sam doesn't know. We don't know!" Faith pleaded.

“We? We? Has this become a permanent partnership?” Jasper gasped, his eyes green and alight with a renewed excitement and sounding very much to Faith's ears like that of a teenage girl at a slumber party.

“None of your fu-freakin' business,” She said, catching herself.

Thwack.

“I said freaking!”

"Too close, Miss Spencer and I will take that as a yes." He said, putting his cane back by his side. I must know," Jasper continued, bringing his face close to hers, "Are you in love with Mr. Drake?"

Faith remained silent while the blood dripped steadily from her nose.

Jasper Nox began to howl with laughter, the randomness of it making Faith start in her chair.

"Now this is just too rich, too rich for words!" He said delighted, his hands clenched to his chest. "And I thought Mrs. Lincoln to be a forgiving woman. You take the cake on this subject, my dear."

Faith's eyes darted quickly towards Jasper, giving away her position of confusion, even if just for a moment, before staring back at the growing ocean waves.

Jasper's gaze softened as he knelt in front of her. With his good hand, he took her chin between his fingers.

“You have no idea who he is, do you?” He said softly.

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with BRIELLE KING, who is TWENTY-TWO years old. She is often called BEATRICE by the MONTAGUES and works as their SOLDIER. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

The first time she laughed, the world paused to listen, and it hasn’t stopped since. It was almost as if she knew her surname was a MOCKERY from the moment her mother whispered it behind her first; fate’s own cruel reminder that she was the farthest thing from a princess, and her father the farthest thing from a KING. Born the first daughter of a man who ate of the crumbs from a rich man’s table, she was raised not in the lap of luxury, but at the feet of it, always close enough to touch it but never enough to take it. Such a life might’ve driven a lesser girl crazy, but the curse of wanting more fit her far better than any sweater her dear mother could’ve made her, and instead of buckling under the weight of everything she hadn’t been given, she THRIVED under the pressure of helping her father put food on the table, of climbing—rung by rung—out of the gutter. People often speak of losing one’s innocence young, but she didn’t lose it; she shed it like a winter coat in the first days of spring—out of necessity. With dark eyes keen enough to see the world for the ridiculous thing it is and an elastic heart tough enough to wake up and face it every day with a smile, Brielle King is a woman under no ILLUSIONS about the world and the people in it—aware but not bitter, kind but not soft.

For the first eighteen years of her life, everything began and ended with a prestigious Thoroughbred farm on the outskirts of St. Petersburg; it was at once a prison and a HOME, the very place that had shaped her into the young woman she’d become and the very place she longed to leave, and it was for this reason that her departure was as delayed as it was premature—before her mother was ready to let her go, certainly, but not soon enough.OPPORTUNITY made itself at home in the curve of her wrist, did its bidding in the form of a stable hand too spoiled to do his own work and too arrogant to believe she could do it better, but she did, and the consequences they were dealt when she was discovered doing his job were nearly as surprising as the fact that—for a poor groom’s daughter—she excelled at it. Within months, she’d been hired to ride in low-profile races, had begun to help her family out of the gentle hell they’d fallen into every time she chased the wire. She was FEARLESS in a way few others her age were, because she’d seen what happened to those who weren’t—people like her mother, who cringed every time she raised her voice, people like her sister, afraid to say too much lest a boy think she had a mind of her own, people like her father, who had been on the ground for so long he’d forgotten how to pick himself up.

The only thing harder than catching her was reining her in. Fiercely independent and doubly driven, she spent long hours at the track perfecting her rugged art; she OUTRAN every doubt risen against her, laughed up at those who looked down on her. There’s something to be admired about girls like her, girls utterly unafraid of calling the world on its bluff and bold enough to demand a response—girls who revel in the stability of having both feet on the ground and the freedom of flying in equal measure, for that was what she was: a woman rooted in the burden of having NOTHING who allowed herself to dream of the high of having it all. She was hungrier than she’d ever been in her life when she raced, the type of HUNGER no feast could satisfy, and even a blind man could’ve seen it. And see it her benefactor did, though he was the farthest thing from blind as there ever was. He’d confronted her in the stables long after the other patrons and even the owners had left and made her an offer she’d have been a fool to refuse, and a fool was the one thing she’d resolved herself to never be—an opportunity to ride in the west, in the city of love. She left for Verona the following week, having said her goodbyes and readied herself for the next great hello, for the only thing more tragic than leaving the city that had built her was choosing to stay.

If the city and the people in it seek to swallow her whole, to make a meal of her as most wolves do to girls who strayed too far from the path, they would do well to stick to victims that have never known hunger themselves, that wouldn’t know a trap if it dragged them straight to hell, for her suffering did not make her cruel or hard or vicious; it made her WISE—wise to a city far tamer than the one she came from and all that it holds dear, and wise to the inclinations of people enslaved by greed and other false deities. And perhaps it made her hopeful, too, for unlike most cynics, she wouldn’t mind being proved wrong. Thus, here she stands, and here she’ll stay: a woman who wanted the WORLD and dared it to deny her, a woman who conquered with neither pen nor sword. There’s a reason they never told you that the hardest hearts shatter the easiest and that wanting doesn’t make you cruel: the world can’t bear the thought of being held in the palms of hands that have shed no blood for the privilege. Only time will tell whether she’s earned her chance.

HUGO KIM: Indebted to. Heaven and hell are at war within her, a holy crusade brought about by a man intimately familiar with both. Her pride—one of the deadliest sins, she’s heard, but a keepsake from home all the same—insists that she has no reason to associate with the servant of a God who let her family damn near starve; to pretend she’s made her peace with it all seems its own form of blasphemy. But her humility—a product of her simple upbringing, surely—counters that the God he worships might be making up for lost time in him, or at the very least, that he deserves to be seen for who he is instead of what. She knows the weight of a judgmental gaze better, perhaps, than anyone, and for all her reservations about him, he’s been kind, something of a rarity in Verona. Far be it for him to make a disciple of her, but he might one day call her friend.

BERNADETTE DU PONT: Caution. If the time she’s spent in the mob thus far taught her anything, it’s that Verona is a city of gluttony; of overindulgence; of greed in all of its maleficent forms. But as she got more and more submerged in the muddy waters of Verona’s underworld, Brielle has come to realize that perhaps it might not have been the city itself that has taught her as such but rather, the symbol of rot that it harbored; the renowned Bunny Du Pont. She can’t put her finger on it but something about them screams excess and not the kind that she stubbornly abstains from but the kind that breeds chaos. It’s an unfounded perception because outwardly, Bunny is merely an image of elegance; of saccharine frailty and blunt edges but Brielle can’t help how her gut knots with distaste and her shoulders tense with discomfort when she’s around them. She has never known fear but she imagines that sensation to be as close as she’ll ever get.

CATHERINE DALY: Interest. The Daly girl reminds her of her sister sometimes, all well-mannered intelligence and edges on the cusp of being sharp. She’s bolder than her little sister was—far less concerned with offending than she is telling what she feels is the truth, and over the course of several weeks and a handful of chance meetings, Brielle has come to admire her for it, to wonder at the steel nerve of a wrongly underestimated girl (perhaps they’re kindred spirits in that respect). Her presence conjures up the warmth of a hearth fire long abandoned, a sort of familiarity she hadn’t realized she’s longed for. It hit her like a freight train one morning as she listened to the younger girl talk about her father that she just might like it here; if Catherine Daly can make a corner booth feel like home, surely she can make something of an entire city.

FARON VASILIEV: Mentor. He is a pinnacle of pride and prestige; a flesh-and-blood testament to the sheer power that a family name can hold and it was for that reason that Brielle’s initial reaction to him was nothing short of wariness. Yet despite the distance she was careful to maintain, her keen eyes were able to spot the cracks in his flawless veneer and before she even realized it, distrust became a long-forgotten notion and only admiration was left in its wake for not even their differing lineages could overshadow the threads of commonality that bound them together time and time again. She sees her righteousness reflected in him and knows that it is what wills her to remain steadfast, to remain in this place. Indeed, those traits were rooted in selfishness and ambition for Brielle but for Faron, they were tethered to the principles of loyalty and justice. As such, he is pure in all the ways she is not and all the ways that she could be. Even when he seemed to drown in the shadow of the vengeance he so desperately sought, he was still pure in her eyes. A kindred spirit in every sense of the term.

Brielle is portrayed by COURTNEY EATON and was written by BREE. She is currently TAKEN by ROGUE.

[mydarlingklaus]

Black Roses, Chapter 4: With every update comes more love and support and I cannot express my gratitude enough.  As usual, the link to my ff account is at the end if you could so kindly leave a review. Much appreciated. I’m not posting the whole chapter on this platform because it’ll take forever to space it all out so click the link for the full chapter. Happy reading (:

Tyler admired Caroline from across the table, leaning back on his chair as she digested her grimoire and paying him no mind. After lunch they both had free period which is usually when they engaged in quality alone time together but found themselves in a study room instead.

He knew how busy she's been lately and his schedule was no better which prompted his plans to woo her into immense PDA for the next 40 minutes. But Caroline had other plans, stressing herself out to get things done and was too focused on her work to notice her boyfriend's prying eyes.

Almost.

"You're staring." She sang with a smile, making it clear she sensed him far before saying anything.

The werewolf smiled back. "What can I say, I like the view." He shrugged.

"Cheesy. Very cheesy." Caroline softly laughed under her breath shaking her head and continued reading.

She hadn't noticed Tyler sitting up from his chair and subtly moved to her side of the booth now right beside her. His immediate warmth was hard to hide so she wasn't too shaken up even when he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with his finger.

Caroline didn't allow the close proximity to phase her, teasing him by not giving the attention she knows he's desperate for was reward enough.

"Would it be less cheesy if I had very dirty intentions?" He said suggestively against her skin.

Her slight shiver not enough reason to give in. She dismissed his seductive promises with a shrug and abruptly changed the subject. "Want to see this new spell I learned? Your girl can basically cause a wildfire using just her mind." Caroline proudly claimed with a widened smile.

Of course she was proud.

It was a spell she had been working on since last semester for her senior seminar class that she consistently messed up on; whether ingredient measurements or other distractions. Multiple trials later, she felt it was finally perfected and was eager to show it to the person she cared most about.

Tyler brushed off her comment with nonchalant nods with lips seeking out her skin again.

"Later, much later." He suggested with his lips brushing her cheek before dipping lower to caress her jaw and kissing repeatedly. His hand grabbing one side of her face to keep her head at an angle as his sensual actions continued.

Caroline momentarily lost herself in the feel of his affections, forgetting her hurt from his dismal of her excitement.

Tyler was a great boyfriend majority of the time, but he wasn't the best support system when it came to her witchery. When they were just friends, he always claimed how confusing witches were and how the witchcraft gave him the creeps, but then he fell for Caroline. She thought with him being with her it'd encourage him to learn more about what she is and but it never came and she didn't press him about it.

The book nearly dropped after her shallow moan of appreciation. His other hand venturing lower to her waist pulling her closer.

A part of her wanted to indulge and relax but she knew how irresponsible it would be if she succumbed. Her eyes closed for a second before opening wide soon after. She couldn't risk sparing any time or being distracted.

Lightly pushing him against his chest when he attempted to drifting lower onto her neck, Caroline groaned.

"Stop." She whined lightly pushing him away.

Tyler sighed frustratingly and annoyed. His fingers ran through his hair wildly as he sat up his chair with a scowl. "Really Care?"

Caroline threw her hands in the air. "What? I told you I have a lot of work to do."

"And I don't?" He raised his voice. "Yeah, I have tons of assignments and football but I still make time for you, for us. To steal these moments with each other while we can..." Leaning in for another kiss that Caroline immediately dodged.

The blonde scoffed turning her face. "Seriously? That's what this is about, you're pissed because I don't want to make out with you whenever you want?" She accused.

"Honestly? Yeah, kinda." He admitted. "Or maybe I'm just pissed that my girlfriend seems to be more into her stupid spell book than me."

Caroline's head shot up with an upset snarl. "It's not stupid." She defended.

Tyler pressed his lips into a line appearing apologetic. "Hey," Grabbing her hand into his affectionately. "I'm sorry babe, okay? I just miss you and feel like we haven't spent a lot of time together lately. We're the royal couple at this school but I don't feel very royal-like when I'm not with you." He joked making Caroline grin at the corniness.

It wasn't that Caroline was intentionally trying to blow Tyler off but she genuinely had a full plate of responsibilities, not to mention her mother informing her earlier in the day she'd be visiting some time this week. Whitmore's first football game was in just a few days, homecoming committee meetings were tomorrow; her class work and personal work were clashing. The pressure kept piling on and she longed for a break that would never come, and Tyler was a part of the break she needed.

She gave him a warm smile, leaning into him to capture his lips in a sweet but brief kiss. "I know, I'm sorry too. I know I'm a mess and probably the worst girlfriend ever."

Tyler looked up, pretending to ponder. "Not the worst..." He teased making Caroline laugh.

"I appreciate you wanting to make time for me, I do. But you know how important my lineage is and what it means to my family to remain the supreme witch by the time I graduate." She explained.

"I get it, you know I do." Tyler sighed. "I get how important this is for you but it's not everything, right? You're more than just spells and shrunken heads." He laughed.

Caroline's forehead slightly creased in irritation. Irritated that Tyler wasn't understanding what she was trying to say at all.

- He really doesn't get it.

Tyler's hands crept up on both sides of her face softly. "I want you, Care. I like being with you but lately it seems I've been in a relationship with you and the grimoire."

"Oh, you mean how I felt last semester with you and your football

Her response died when his mouth covered hers briefly with a promising kiss. The abrupt act of affection stunned the blonde witch who's air nearly knocked out her lungs from the aggression. He pulled away with an event brighter smile that she reciprocated, deciding not to start another argument.

"Let's go away this weekend just you, me and my parents' lake house. The next full moon isn't for a couple of weeks so I'll still be around. Perfect opportunity for us to, reconnect." He suggested.

She nearly forgot about the full moon that occurred once a month was quickly approaching.

Caroline dreaded this time of the month because Tyler would go home to, 'handle the situation'. He never wanted to be near, on the certainty that he would hurt someone on campus; most importantly Caroline despite her fascination. Instead, his parents arranged a deal with Headmistress Saltzman for approved leave once a month.

Money can get you anything.

He would run wild and free in the dark woods near his mansion, about 30 minutes from the school.

Without a doubt Caroline missed him during that time but a romantic getaway? As if they were a married couple trying to keep their love alive instead of just two teenagers who needed a breather.

The witch's mouth agape. "Tyler-"

"Imagine how beautiful and peaceful it'd be to have a little getaway before things get too wild around here. Before we both become caught up in other stuff and really won't have much time together till graduation. And, my parents said I can use it whenever I want." Tyler excitedly proposed.

Caroline nervously laughed. "You realize we have school, right?"

"Obviously," Rolling his eyes. "But it's just the weekend and all we need is the approval from Headmistress Saltzman then it's a done deal." He said nonchalantly.

Tyler turned Caroline's chair until she was completely facing him. She slightly flinched when he grabbed her hand again and leaving a kiss on her knuckles.

"We're stressed already, especially you, and being on campus all the time is probably making it worse." He accurately claimed. "A weekend away is exactly what the doctor ordered." He said with a convincing smile.

It was a very tempting offer that Caroline would usually jump at the opportunity for.

The Lockwood lake house was legendary, especially during Summer vacation. Tyler came from a wealthy family as well, his father was the Mayor of Whitmore though he had to keep his family tree a secret from the public. Nothing would hurt more in his campaign than everyone finding out their dear mayor and his son were half beast. Tyler's mom was human, marrying into the supernatural improved her knowledge on the nature of werewolves; it's what Caroline wished Tyler would do for her. Caroline only met his parents a few times and never feeling more cold and inferior than talking to Mrs. Lockwood.

They allowed Tyler to rent out the lake house that had been passed down by generations. All his parties were lively and extravagant. Nearly the entire class was invited, minus vampires of course. Not to mention it sat on the most beautiful lake in town with the perfect view of the dusk and dawn. Caroline loved it and being there would probably be the perfect stress relief.

She sighed defeated. "That sounds so nice, really, but I don't have much time to spare especially with this group assignment from Professor Sommers' class that determines if I graduate or not. Can you believe she really paired me with Klaus Mikaelson?"

The werewolf's eyebrows shot up curiously. "Mikaelson? Why do you two have a class together?"

"It's a general education class, everyone's allowed apparently." Caroline said disapprovingly.

"Huh..." Pressing his lips together.

"Yeah I know. Literally couldn't have received a better graduation gift, right?" She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

Caroline's joking expression faded when she noticed Tyler's face drop and feeling his body tense.

He took a deep breath and slightly relaxed noticing his girlfriend's concerned face.

When he placed a comforting hand on top of hers she felt more calm. "Sorry, sorry it's not you. I just really don't like that guy." He admitted.

"Join the club." She agreed with a wide smile and arms around his neck to bring him in for a deep kiss.

Their lips smooth against each other and in perfect rhythm. He pulled her closer, both arms around her waist tightly and moaning between kisses.

She knew Tyler was just trying to be a good boyfriend, it was more than appreciated and she wanted to be good to him as well; he's yet to give her a reason not to be. She was becoming her own enemy, her personal thoughts and revelations blocking her from reality.

- Fake it till you make it.

She told herself, figuring this was just another one of her phases that would blow over in a day or two.

The werewolf pulled away from the embrace to speak. "But if he ever gives you a hard time-"

"Don't worry. I can handle him." She smiled into another kiss. "Who do you think makes a sport out of giving him aneurysms?"

Tyler laughed in agreement, kissing her lips a final time.

Per usual, Caroline arrived to class before everyone else with three textbooks in her arms and a scowl on her face. Lately she hadn't been bubbly happy Caroline that everyone knows and loves.

She was already having a chaotic day, not to mention one of her cheerleaders sprained their ankle which meant Caroline has to change the squad's formation and she had to prep for another meeting tonight with her coven to discuss homecoming. She performed a minor soothing spell on herself before class to ease her through this last class, especially because today was the first day of working on class projects.

Literally the last thing Caroline wanted to do today was endure vampire company for 40 minutes.

Now sitting at her seat she pushed her hair out her face and began organizing her desk area before class began.

Organization kept her semi sane.

She spread out all her notebooks and pens, color coordinated and perfectly parallel of each other.

Caroline glanced up at the sound of an annoying female laughter coming from the entrance.

More and more students arrived and cleared her view at the nauseating sight of Klaus and the infamous short redhead vampire. Her back pressed against the threshold stupidly laughing at whatever Klaus was saying while he practically towered over her.

The girl was clearly whipped. He could've been telling her it's cold outside or he lost his car keys and she would think it was the funniest thing in the world.

- Gross. Imagine being that sprung over Klaus Mikaelson.

She cringed.

This was the second time Caroline's seen them together all cuddled up looking and acting like a couple; at least this time they were fully clothed. Still she was trying to burn that image out her head.

Caroline never noticed them together before this semester and now they popped up everywhere she turned in the most sickening fashion.

Klaus kept his hands in his pockets but the girl wouldn't stop touching him like she'd die if she didn't. Both her hands caressing his chest through his white Henley seductively, and thigh settled between his. Klaus didn't seem as enthused with her affections but he also wasn't dodging anything to stop it, smirking and egging her on. When he did show a hint of a smile it seemed genuine, and he didn't appear annoyed by her either.

- Maybe it is two-sided?

Caroline found it difficult to not analyze the scene in front of her. It was hard to look away, like watching a tragic car crash.

Caroline wanted to gag. They were so transfixed into each other neither bothered to move out the doorway for the student entering. If anything the redhead used it as an excuse to subtly push herself closer into his body.

- Amateur.

The blonde rolled her eyes.

- Shit!

Full chapter can be found here! Don’t forget to leave a review (: