#a noble sacrifice that i giggle while writing

[somer-writes]

Got a fic idea if ya want to run with it 😹 what would what if black blood made into one of the link bloodstream? 👀👀👀

thats an interesting question! i think that it would really only have much of an effect on twilight or four seeing as theyre a little more in tune with dark magic than the others but i also think that the triforce would probably neutralize it if not the master sword.

ive tossed the idea around of maybe doing a twi infected fic which eventually became The Wolf during whumptober 2023. i put my man through so much already XD and on top of infection i also roll with shadow curse on him. he would be a Mess.

it could be fun to try out some time tho! id love to know your thoughts on it <3

[yunharlaquin]

today, on this varyingly chilly day of the twenty-fifth of december, we commemorate the death and roast of the blessed squawkcoo, laying the way for the noble chewbacca to realize the error of his ways and repent consuming porgkind. as the porg so loved to do with his brethren, we remember his sacrifice by sharing how much we enjoy each other's company...

alright, alright, alright, enough jokes! merry christmas, god jul, fröhliche weihnachten, and happy holidays to everyone on the dash from a shockingly snowy oklahoma! whether you're celebrating something today or eating chinese (or in one confirmed case, middle eastern) food, i hope you're having a wonderful day. you all bring me such joy through your presence, and i hope (as i'll inevitably forget someone) if you don't find yourself on here, you know i still deeply appreciate you. i laugh, i cry, i squeal almost every day, all because of you and your muses. you're all so supremely talented, and i adore everything you produce.

now, without further ado...

FRIENDS, CORELLIANS, SITH LORDS: LEND ME YOUR DROIDS

@graysistance / @lionthought / @commandsir / @greenscrunchy & your plethora of blogs which are starting to rival the number of mine — PUCK, you beautiful, wonderful, sweetheart of a saltdish, you've listened to the ups and downs of my year side by side with hackett, always finding the time to come up with a comforting or encouraging word. your kindness is the sort of thing people like to claim their friends have, but you truly possess it. i adore talking about history with you, spinning out context with so many subjects we speak of, let alone specifically the group wwii au. your support for my various crafting projects always brings a smile to my face. i love to see the things you fun and across, including your growing collection of legends books. i adore how you characterize each of your characters, giving them the depths of compassion and forethought that so many hold. your internal dialogue is absolutely stunning and our plots make me giggle hysterically.

@aniimvs / @scoundrvls / @honorhunt / @hellmartyr & your equally numerous blogs of which each is perfection — HACKETT, considering how intrinsically tied you and puck are in equal measure to my time on this hellsite, i wish i could you both side by side at the top of this list. sadly, this is not a tumblr feature..... yet. in this year of coding and dash tumult, you have soldiered on behind the scenes irl, kicking names and taking ass, while popping up to deliver exquisite pain, cause minor chaos, and be the saltmine you are. our discussions of just how bad a certain... pad.mé writing author's work is brings me life. your technical history knowledge is top notch and i adore all you bring to the wwii au so much, let alone the jp and lotr aus you and puck have worked on. you, more so than perhaps anyone i write with are the queen of establishing a setting. i always love seeing where you decide to set a not established location thread and to build off the descriptions you give for it. it lends an effortless star wars vibe to everything... let alone your depth for your grey and dark muses... *chef's kiss*!

@carnalstress — literal best friend, JESS!!!!! even though i've only managed to the once so far, i am SO happy that i live close enough for us to visit each more often, and i'm so glad you're back to writing on tumblr. you bring so much comfort and joy into my life with your conviction and your kind heart. i admire your dedication to your field even when things get tough and that you're trying to find new avenues in it. you are such a wonderful friend. and your cat is the cutest thing. i hope this next year is the best one yet!

@debelltio / @impostre — ALISTAIR, you are perhaps the newest friend amongst this section of the list, but you are no less dear. i love the subjects we have crossing over interests and experiences in, from living in multiple cultures, to law, to history, food and beyond. i've really loved getting to know you over the last few months, and you do such a lovely job with orson and all your muses. it is just a whole wonderful thing.

@colpapabear — annika! i love that we've written together for so so long and bonded over so many different things. i especially love the vintage clothing and knitting discussions we've had of late. they bring me so so much joy. watching you take leaps and bounds in both and produce such pretty things is the literal best.

@darkestshadeofgrey — listen, i neeeed to respond to our threads because every single one without fail is a plot i am wild for. your characterize your muses so interestingly and each is so very compelling. and even though i'm often late to respond, i ADORE the star wars tiktoks you send me, so often so much pain.

@heirite — i know you haven't been on for a bit, but i'm very much hoping you'll come back and see this! you are such a lovely friend, and i adore your ben to pieces. he brings me such joy, and with you off doing irl, i occasionally go back and read through your blog for that ben sky.walker goodness!

@notimminent — hey you! not that you've ever been truly gone but i'm so glad we've met up again. i can't wait to turn our plotting into threads for emma! you're a truly wonderful person and i'm so happy to have you back more regularly on my dash.

@acharnemcnt / @finaliseur— ame! i'm so very excited for some of the plots we're slowly working on and the threads we have in the works. you've also been so so kind. i very much enjoy your hux, and i'm thrilled about the new multi AND the ask blog AND rae. it's all so so cool!

@galaxycrxss / @hamadaxfighter — hey hey, i very much enjoy your clone squad. and the genius boy. watching you flesh out echo and hiro is a lovely thing, as well as hearing about all your ideas for the future!

@astraldestiny — listen, you adding winter hands down made my week! the plethora of legends characters you write never fails to bring me joy to see, and i enjoy writing and plotting with you so much. stay warm and i hope you enjoyed a christmas market! (next year when i go back, NEXT YEAR)

@multipleoccupancy — caraaaaaaaaa! no matter what you set your mind to on your multi or elsewhere, you do to perfection. it's been so lovely to write with you for so many years across so many genres and muses. our history threads will forever be my favorite!

@chokethelight — you you you, we haven't been able to write much this year, but whenever you pop in to say hello, or whatever version you decided to use that time, you bring a smile to my face! i hope 2023 is a better year for you. &lt;3

@stillsails — i'm so glad to see you around again on tumblr! you've had so much happen!! i am so so so proud of/happy for you for all your accomplishments and milestones this year! keep being the lovely academic and wonderful writer you are.

@fasciinating — listen, whatever we're working on brings me much joy, and the friendship that spock and jaina are building is just lovely. plus, i've really enjoyed the headcanons you've written for that challenge, let alone your beautiful art!

to all those i really love writing and talking with but also hope todo more with this coming year:

@paramounticebound @gurrillero @fifthbornforrester @lunascientia @rubiesintherough @protectxthem @caedus @kylo-wrecked @keeve-trenniis @jaigalorad @mandogold @hopegained @ncxile @reawakcn @theysparked @becomelions @fatedtruths @vuulpecula @conniidel @withoutpeer @skjebne and everyone i inevitably missed, have the happiest of new years!

[memento-morri-writes]

Mask, Midnight, and Wound for the character of your choice.

Ooh, thank you, Alex!! These are all good questions!

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Weirdly enough, despite my love of masked characters, none of my characters so far wear a literal mask. I'll have to change that. However, I will say that Kristopher does wear a kind of mask. He presents a facade of the man that the entire kingdom of Oryn sees him as: drunk, foolish, and flirtatious. He never shows how badly their taunts hurt him, and he acts like nothing matters to him. But in reality, he's suffering every moment he spends in Oryn, as long as his family and his people hate him. Once in Anvia he dons a different kind of mask. Almost exactly the reverse. He vows not to let anyone see the "real" him. (Or rather, what his parents and brothers have convinced him is the "real" him.) The fuck-up drunkard who is useless to anyone. Eventually Fallon pulls away all of his masks, and gets to see the real Kristopher. The damaged, hurt, suffering Kristopher, who wants nothing more than to be happy and to be loved. Even after the two of them are together, Kristopher still keeps up a certain degree of appearances to everyone except for Fallon. He doesn't want people to ever have an excuse or reason see him the way the people in Oryn did.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

Fallon is kept up by a lot of things. Sometimes it's worries or stress regarding her kingdom. Trade deals, foreign politics food stores, threats of crop failure or disease. Anything that could harm her kingdom in any way. Other times it's more personal worries. Memories of her mother, worry that she's failed at being a queen her mother would be proud of. Later on, after Lavinia's attack, it's nightmares. Lots and lots of nightmares. Nightmares where all of her loved ones die, and she can't do a thing to stop it. Some of the most devious ones put her father, Wymond, as a mastermind behind all of the loss and suffering Fallon has ever experienced. What she does when she can't sleep depends on the reason she's still awake. If it's worries about her kingdom, she may be up until the small hours of the morning writing letters to various nobles, merchants, or foreign dignitaries. If it's thoughts about her mother, she'll often just sit and let memories wash over her. If it's nightmares, she might try and distract herself, but often just ends up sitting there frightened.

continued under the cut for length

tw: physical injury, parental death, toxic relationships, human sacrifice

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What’s the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Let's talk about a DnD OC here, just for shits and giggles. Let's talk about Cyra, my fire genasi barbarian/fighter. Cyra has experienced a lot of wounds in her life, both mental and physical. From the murder of her parents and entire hometown, to all the wounds sustained while fighting for the Brotherhood, to learning the truth of her girlfriend Talia's true nature, and deciding to flee the Brotherhood for good. Cyra is no stranger to being physically wounded, and they handle it quite well. She has a high pain tolerance, and any kind of bruise or scratch isn't even going to slow her down. Not a wound, per se, but the worst physical pain she's ever experienced was when our rogue's ex-wife (who now leads the very cult he's on a revenge quest against) tried to reach into Cyra's body and remove the magical quarter staff they can summon from their chest. The pain was excruciating, and as Cyra was paralyzed at the time, she couldn't even open her mouth to scream. (But she still tried, leaving her with nothing but a scratchy voice for days.) When it comes to emotional wounds, Cyra is far less resilient. She does not have any truly good coping mechanisms, and tends to bottle up her emotions, only releasing them when they fight. The two worst emotional wounds they have suffered have been 1) losing her parents in a Brotherhood raid (and subsequently being taking in by the Brotherhood to be raised as a soldier), and 2) learning that her girlfriend, Talia (the daughter of the cult leader) is not the person Cyra thought she was. Cyra had long held onto the hope of convincing Talia to leave the brotherhood, and that the two of them would run away together. But after witnessing Talia sacrificing a town full of innocents to the Brotherhood's mysterious god, she realized that Talia had simply been stringing her along.

[nana1000night]

🖤 🧡🧛🏽‍♀️for being a badass with a good heart, have a pair of fangs to bite your favorite mutuals! 🧛🏽‍♀️🧡🖤 (Pass it on to your favs)

Hello, Em!!

Okay, it seems I have to write something about this Halloween, right?

So here's my small gift <3

"Seriously, why did both of you join the hunt? Didn't the noble and the royals would be the ones sitting in their office and demanding hunters?"

"It's your stereotype, James. Besides, it's fun to hunt those ghosts."

Bucky tsked

"Yeah, I forget you are also a Sorcerer and your biggest habit is luring those poor souls to become your slaves."

"How rude! It's win-win, I offer them a place and they work for me."

"And what about you, prince? Why did you join this even when the queen her highness crying and begging you don't come?"

The prince just shrugged

"I'm the heir to the throne, it's my duty to know what happened in this kingdom. Hunt is one of them, so of course, I need to join at least once."

Bucky sighed and gave them knives, a ghostwriting book, and some smudge Sticks.

"Alright, I would be the one to call the ghosts, Charles is the one to check the book, and sir, you need to light the sticks if you see the salt melt. Got it?"

They both nodded before all three of them enter the mansion.

What's happened?

Bucky opened his eyes and found something wrong.

"Awww, you wake up, handsome..." A thrilled woman's voice sang beside him.

He tilted his head and a pure white fabric covered his eyes. He feels something—or someone, touched his face with their cold fingers. Bucky shivered and cocked his head, trying to find his teammates.

Well, Charles was cornering a trembling ghost and whispered to them.

"Come on, my fair lady. It's not as terrible as you think. Just sign the contract so you don't need to stay in this cold and lonely house anymore."

The ghost lady shook her head and try to be transparent but was stopped by the Sorcerer's magic.

The Sorcerer closed their distance and slowly moved off the white fabric, he leaned down his head and gave the poor soul a cold, sweet kiss. Then he took a black ring from his pocket and put it on her finger before he whispered some spells and kissed the ring.

"Finally got you, my little ghost."

Bucky chose to let the Sorcerer has his fun and turned to seek the prince.

"So you're the prince in this kingdom? Then why are you here? It's not a good place for someone like you." The ghost said while she lit the room.

"I am here to say this mansion is in my territory, and you are also my people, you can't haunt this house and murder my other ones."

"But we didn't kill, we just scared them so they would leave us alone. Only some weirdos try to summon the demons or evils so they invaded this mansion and murdered their 'sacrifice'. It's not our fault!"

"Weirdos? The cults? Did they succeed? And they still here?"

Bucky could see the ghost made a '= =' face and the wind breeze.

"No, we chased them away and stop the ritual, it's our last place to stay and we would never leave unless you find a better one for us."

She continued before the prince parted his lips.

"And the palace is not a good place, so give me other options."

"Oh, I thought my room is a good one...but I could understand."

The ghost lady giggled and spun around.

"Never choose the palace, it's just a huge golden cage."

"Then how about my necklace? Could you leave it in there?"

The prince showed the golden necklace he wears all the time.

"It's from my mother and it's my precious. It does not belong to royalty but a son who loves his mother. I learned that an item which has been put enough love and miss could be the vessel for the soul."

The ghost lady frowned

"If that is really so important to you, then why will you offer that to me? I'm just a nobody. A ghost who already forgive her name a long time ago."

"Because I know the feeling try to find a home in which you belong to."

Hesitate, and the ghost lady nodded eventually.

They held hands while closing their eyes and praying to the moon. Then the ghost lady disappeared before the golden round pendant emerge on a woman's face.

"Wow! We did it! And this place is so comfy, thank you, Sir."

Her chirped voice made the prince grin.

"See enough?" The cold voice spoke again and pulled Bucky's attention back. Her beautiful eyes sadden when the hunter didn't speak anything.

"You are the one to capture me, right? Did you bring the lantern?"

Bucky stared at the ghost who nearly break into tears, and he took the lantern while murmuring:

"I'm gonna be the fool, punk. Wish me the best."

She bowed her head and let the lantern draw her soul.

When the lamp lit the small gold and blue fire. Her voice showed up again.

"Huh? Why? Did someone hear me? Hello?"

"Yeah, we all hear, this is the special lantern for the good soul. But you have to help me capture or eliminate more evils to retain the lantern's power."

"That...thank you! I don't know what to say, but thank you!"

"Oh, I'm not the best to deal with women's tears. Hey, hey! just save your tears, okay? You should laugh more...of course, in a good way."

"Thanks, Bucky. I appreciate that."

"How did you...ugh never mind." Bucky patted the lantern tenderly

"So...let's go home."

[dangermousie]

Hello !

I was wondering whether you could rate and tell us of your top 5 favourite webnovels/cnovels of all time ?! (Sorry if this has already been answered lol😅)

Thank you, stay safe and have a nice day🖤

Awww, thank you and that is such a lovely ask!!!

From n1 to n5, here they are (they happen to be all danmei.)

1. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) - my n1 forever and ever.

Taxian Jun, the horrific cultivation emperor of the world who razed cities and destroyed sects, is surrounded on his mountain. The righteous sects are terrified to confront him but tired of living, Taxian Jun consumes poison and dies by suicide at the age of 32. And opens his eyes as 16 year old Mo Ran, Mo Ran long before he became Taxian Jun, Mo Ran who is excited at a chance to save the one person he loved and lost. Oh, and to deal with his loathed shizun, the unapproachable and strict Chu Wanning, his past life’s biggest enemy.

I have no idea if it’s objectively the best on this list but it hits every trope I love, its bleak worldview (the world will change only incrementally but that’s enough, average person will not appreciate the sacrifice but it’s still worthwhile, and love is worth everything) mirrors mine, and the sheer complexity of the plot and cascade of plot twists each of which is insane and yet completely logical, is amazing (this is a rare novel where it’s even more fun to reread than read for the first time because you keep seeing all the hints and trail crumbs laid out that you did not see the first time.)

And the characters!!! I mean, this novel has multiple universes/timelines, a side trip to the Underworld AND the demon realm, a plot more twisted than a store’s worth of pretzels and yet the thing that hits me the most are the characters. Mo Ran is my favorite web novel character of all time and I love Chu Wanning so. All the secondary characters are wonderfully written (and some of them made me bawl) and they are all complex. My opinion of all of them changed many times over; the novel doesn’t make it easy to love some of them but then you do and it’s so worthwhile! That slow change is one of the delights of the novel - I started out disliking the unpleasant, superior Chu Wanning and cruel, callow Mo Ran and then I loved them so so hard and cried for them so so hard and was in awe of their heroism and sacrifice and selflessness and capacity to love.

Oh, and the fact that this novel does something almost impossible - it has its protagonist start out as so clearly irredeemable and then slowly and painfully and thoroughly redeems him (without ever letting the reader forget what it is he needs redemption for.)

Also, for a novel that made me cry so hard I felt ill, this book is just so damn funny with the most sarcastic sense of humor imaginable (the serious angst doesn’t even kick in until 90+ chapters!)

Anyway I should stop or I will write a dissertation. But this is the one web novel that I would put in my top 5 not just web novels but any novels in any shape or form. The plentiful trigger warnings are there for a reason so stay away if they are an issue, but if not, if anyone hasn’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life?!

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - another novel by the author of 2ha. Clearly she just pushes all my buttons every time. This one is much shorter and has a plot that is twisty but less twisty than 2ha. Still, all that means is that intensity and the pain are more concentrated.

Aristocratic Mo Xi and former slave Gu Mang were both legendary generals of the empire and lovers. But Gu Mang betrayed the country and switched to the enemy. Now he is back as a peace offering by that country and Mo Xi has to deal with the fact that his feelings are as strong as ever.

This novel!!! So much pain and intensity!!! So many amazing plot twists and supporting characters. The same bleak world view, the same unjust society, the same protagonists doing right things despite the cost. Mo Xi’s intensity and inability to let go (he’s imprinted on Gu Mang and that’s it) is romantic, bone-shakingly intense, and tragic all at once. And oh Gu Mang! So many times I just wanted to reach into the book physically to protect him. The novel deals with unjust societies, memory versus personality, what it’s like to be good in a bad universe etc. And it both made me sob and giggle, repeatedly, and sold me on literally death-defying (but not honor-defying!) love.

Oh, and special shout out to the fact that like 2ha, you may start out hating some characters and end up a rabid fangirl (cough Murong Lian!)

3. Qiang Jin Jiu - a dense political tome that takes a while to get going but then it’s a runaway train.

In a fictional dynasty, Shen Zechuan, the only remaining son of a disgraced aristocratic family and Xiao Chiye, the younger son of a family of generals guarding the border join forces (and then something else) to get power and pull down the dysfunctional system.

This is so elegant and smart (a rare web novel I’d recommend to anyone who just loves solid period fiction) and you probably need a notebook to keep track of the politics and military strategy. These characters are very very smart not just because the author says so.

As to the characters, there is a large cast and I love many of them, but for me the novel is made by Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye. SZC is gorgeous and delicate and icy and can kill you before you have time to blink. Saddled with the sins of the family he had no pleasant interaction with, he claws his way out of hell (seeing the sinkhole he was trapped in, literally as well) to take down those who wronged him but also to amass power so all the tragedy and corruption won’t happen again and the whole rotten system comes crashing down. XCY is a military genius who is trapped as a hostage in the capital because the court doesn’t trust his family. He longs to return to the plains of home and to take his rightful place. The two men start out as bitter enemies, then reluctant and sniping allies, then as friends and eventually as one of the most gorgeous, tender, swoony OTPs.

Anyway this is one is a bona fide masterpiece, equal parts smart and emotionally intense.

4. Wu Chang Jie - are you an emotional vampire? I am and this novel is a banquet.

In a highly fantastical setting, we meet our protagonists - the sunny Xie Bian and the intense and surly Fan Wushe. Xie Bian is a human who assists his master in conveying souls to the underworld and making sure no mishaps happen. Bian is concentrated sunshine in human form and to meet him is to love him. When the novel opens, his drunk master brings back another human to be his shidi and assist with duties - said human is uncommunicative, intense and surly Wushe. Bian is excited to have a shidi but little does he know that a story dealing with the horrors of past lifetime is about to start.

Anyway, why WCJ? So many reasons. It has such a dark bleak worldview - this world is a horrifying system where powerful cannibalize each other’s cores for an impossible chance to ascend, where gods have sealed off their realm and all that’s left is neverending human misery and hell (the only way you’d see a deity is if they’d been sent down to suffer over and over and over), where even reincarnation doesn’t fix things and bad acts are often unpunished. And the novel then asks - is it worth being a good person in such a world? More, is it worth being a good person in such a world when nothing good has ever happened to you and you have been repeatedly betrayed due to your goodness? And the answer, on Bian’s part, is an uncompromising yes.

Ah yes, the other reason to love this novel - the protagonists and their fucked up fucked up relationship. Bian (who was Prince Ziheng in the past life) is so genuinely good. But he is that rare thing - good but not saintly, noble but not cloying. So much of the novel is his getting taken apart over and over and barely able to put himself back together every time but his soul is still as amazing as ever.

And then there is Wushe (who was Prince Zixiao in past life, Ziheng’s not-bio-related brother.) Wushe is not a good person. He is a monster. And he loves Bian/Ziheng more than his life and his soul and the entire world but he’s also the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever could and did it over and over. His love survived a literal century of torture in the worst kind of hell and refused the usual memory loss of new life. But it also humiliated and broke Ziheng down to his constituent parts.

One of the things that is so fascinating to me about this novel is the question of what can be forgiven/what should be forgiven/what kind of expiation is enough/can you ever love someone who you loved so much and then he hurt you so badly and is now repentant? And it never sweeps trauma under the rug or hand waves it away but deals with it head on.

If you want healthy relationships, you should stay far away from this novel but if intense insane ones with a feral barely human one capable of destroying the world leashed by love and guilt to the sane deeply good one is your bag, come right in.

There is also the world building and the fact that yes, the big fall out between Ziheng x Zixiao is based on not knowing all the facts but it’s not “why can’t you talk?! This is dumb!” But is totally in keeping with both events and their characters. It’s reasonable for Ziheng to do what he does and for Zixiao to misunderstand and decide Ziheng is now his biggest enemy (but still one he’s fixated on) and for Ziheng to never be able to clarify.

Anyway, once again this is trigger warning central so please heed those, but if they are no issue, this one is wonderful.

5. OK, this is hard and switches between Sha Po Lang, Heaven Official’s Blessing and The Golden Stage depending on my mood. So what the hell, I am gonna write about all of them.

Sha Po Lang - so smart and so much clever world building. There is enough politicking to satisfy a Qiang Jin Jiu fan, it’s steampunk, and our two protagonists - Gu Yun, the empire’s most powerful general, who’s loyal to the empire despite being badly wronged by it, and Chang Geng, a cursed prince with barbarian blood and horrifying childhood - are wonderful separately and together. This is a huge slow burn but it’s totally worth it! They fall in love with each other’s hearts and brains and ability as much as anything. (Yes, this is the one with the yifu thing. Gu Yun is made Chang Geng’s foster father when he rescues him and brings him back to the capital as a way to keep CG safe in imperial strife. They are 12 and 19 at the time so clearly it’s never a parental relationship.)

Heaven Official’s Blessing (TCGF) - I love it’s sprawling narrative and cast, I love its inventive setting and picaresque story. It’s hilarious and can make me cry. But the novel’s place on this list is due to Xie Lian who is part Kenshin part drama WWX part pure goodness wrapped in heartbreak and trauma wrapped in sunshine.

The Golden Stage - two smart and principled (yes, they both have principles different though they may be) men navigate their arranged marriage, their past friendship and their past break up, become a super couple (one of the healthiest danmei couples I’ve ever read and proves healthy doesn’t have to be boring), save the country and bring down the emperor or two and just generally this is my rainy day book.

I guess I didn’t write as much for the three n5 candidates as I did for 1-4 but my brain is beginning to curdle so...

[universallywriting]

I'm back with another fluff prompt: Steven does one of those back-of-the-hand kisses while they're on a date and Connie tries to roast him for it, but can't, because she's a fantasy nerd so she was into it too.

a fantasy AU

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

Connie knew that the Prince of the Crystal Empire was going to come around today. After all, the princess of Delmarva attended her university, and princes were supposed to spend their days pursuing princesses. She hadn’t meant to pay any attention to the affairs of royals, so she had taken her studies to the lawn.

At the sound of hooves, her studies were interrupted. She sprung to her feet, a textbook clutched to her chest as a horse thundered her way and pulled to a noble stop.

Well. She’d assumed a horse.

She whispered a word that one should probably not say in the presence of royalty, because as sure as the sun was hot a unicorn stood before her. Pink and pink and pink again - from its hooves to the tip of its long, spiraled horn. It made a sound which was quite horsey, and flashed teeth which were very much not. Again she whispered some unsavory words at the thought of a horse with a horn and teeth like a predator.

“Sorry for spooking you,” the man said. He dressed fancy enough to be a royal, all pink and poofy with a cutout on his belly to show off a magic gem. So, surely this was the prince. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be here.”

“No, it’s fine.” She gestured to the lawn as she struggled to settle her nerves. “It’s here for everyone. Me. You. Unicorns.”

His nose wrinkled up. “He’s actually a lion under a spell. Pearl thought it would be more, um... Princely?”

His voice quirked up, and he looked horribly awkward, so she sighed and shook her head, trying to keep a laugh in her voice. “Sorry to tell you this, but the student handbook says no lions allowed. True unicorns only.”

He smiled. Stars, that was a cute smile. It really wasn’t fair to be powerful and wealthy and handsome - you should have to sacrifice at least one of those things to get the other two. He said, “That’s a really specific rulebook for a place with no magic.”

She giggled. “They heard you were coming and made some new rules.”

He slid off his lioncorn, and immediately looked less regal for it. Well, that was good. He had a sense of humor so he had to lose something to balance it out. He gently took her hand, brushing his lips across her fingers like a gentleman, then asked, “What’s your name, my lady?”

How unbelievably stupid. Her mouth tried to find the words to tease him for it - he wasn’t her prince, after all, and she was under no obligation to humor any romantical notions. Instead, she found herself oddly flustered by it, and words floundered on her tongue as she found herself struck with the fantastical nature of it all.

For heaven’s sake. She’d come to school for law.

“Connie,” she managed, trying to pretend she hadn’t squeaked. “You’re Steven, right?”

“Yeah!” He laughed. “Want to come exploring with me?”

She blinked. “I think you’re confused. I’m from a family of doctors and soldiers. I’m not who you’re here to see.”

“You’re the first person who hasn’t called me prince.” He shrugged and smiled once again. “Sounds like someone worth seeing.”

And, stupidly, she blurted, “I’m an anti-royalist” to a prince.

But he giggled, and climbed back up on his not-unicorn, and held out his hand. “Me too. Come on, I think I saw some cool waterfalls around here.”

Her arms were full of books. Law books. No fantasy story worth its salt ever had someone with an interest in law. You didn’t write stories about lawyers - not the kinds that were very nice to lawyers, at least. Girls who liked politics were hardly allowed to have romantic, fantastic adventures.

And yet soon her arms were empty, and her hand was outstretched to his.

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Old Flame: Pt. 15

Warnings: Cursing & a lil touch of NSFW

Word Count: 3371

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

-

While this 7 hour road trip to Arkansas is taking place, you and Hayley offered many times to take over the wheel but Klaus did not budge. He’s had his fair share of you and Hayley taking the wheel a few times in the past. He’ll never put himself through such horror again.

Other than that, Klaus has informed you of everything he’s learned from Finn so far. You’ve learned that Esther’s first born, Freya did not die from plague, but she was taken by Esther’s sister, Dahlia in exchange for Esther to be fertile. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but if it wasn’t for Esther’s sacrifice, you would have never met Klaus.

That piece of information wasn’t the last of it. Klaus mentioned that every first born in the Mikaelson family belongs to Dahlia and since Hope is still alive, you hope that Dahlia doesn't come after her too.

This family cannot catch a break.

As much as you tried to stay awake for Klaus, he insisted you get some rest and you did just that, leaning your head against the passenger side window. He reached his right arm over his head for his jacket that is sprawled over his seat and placed it over you as a makeshift blanket, careful to focus his eyes on the road at the same time.

Once you are fast asleep, Klaus couldn’t help but steal a glance at your peaceful state. Outstretching his right arm, he rests his palm over your thigh, briskly caressing it with his thumb.

“You really love Y/N, huh?” A very awake Hayley mentioned from the back seat behind him.

Klaus flickered his eyes at the rear view mirror, waiting a beat before responding. “So it seems.” He sniggered lightly.

“Have you told her?” Hayley asked. After not receiving a response from him, she already knew his answer. “I think you should. I don’t know anyone else on this planet that would put up with you the way that she does.”

“Your advice is touching.” Klaus hid his vulnerability with a sarcastic tone. Hayley sighed heavily, displeased that he was making a joke out of her serious advice.  

(Later…)

It is now daylight when you, Klaus and Hayley pull up to a house that neither you nor Hayley have ever been to. It is a white two story home with dark brown shutters. Rebekah, Elijah and who you assume is Hope are standing outside, eager for your arrival.

Klaus wastes no time approaching the home and Hayley nearly jumps out of the back seat, rushing towards her daughter. Klaus follows suit and you take your time stepping out of the passenger seat in slow motion. You’ll never understand how much this mother and father missed their child so you kept your distance to allow them this moment with their daughter.

You walked over to Elijah and Rebekah. Rebekah welcomed you with open arms, reeling you in for a tight hug. “Oh, Y/N.” Rebekah muttered, freeing you of her tight hold. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, sis.” You smiled.

“Has Nik been giving you a hard time?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course.”

“How about that dreadful friend of yours, Kai.” Rebekah flashed a look of disgust. “Has Nik killed him yet?”

You sighed, perturbed of the heretic’s whereabouts. “No. I have no idea where he is. But your mother has something to do with it.”

“Esther?” She reeled back, shocked. “How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story, Rebekah. It’ll bore you.” You chuckled faintly. She flashed a nervous smile at you, seeing right through your facade.

“Y/N.” Nik interrupted, appearing beside you with Hope in his arms. You turned to face him, eyes widening at the beautiful infant before you. “This is Hope.” He added.

“Hi Hope.” Your mouth curved into a grin, raising your hand and Hope latches onto your finger, blue eyes staring into yours. You peer up at Klaus, whispering loudly. “She’s beautiful.” You glanced from Klaus to Hayley who both approve of your sweet comment.

“She is, isn’t she?” Hayley mentioned to you in a calm tone, gazing at her daughter as she steals him from Klaus’s arms. “Come here, sweetie.”

You started on helping Rebekah and the men gather wood for a bonfire right in front of the home. Klaus started informing his siblings about the whole mess of their Aunt Dahlia.

“So is there any chance of us running into your psycho Aunt Dahlia soon?” You asked.

“Fable’s over a thousand years old, sister.” Elijah responded, adding a piece of the wood to the neat pile, his sleeves folded up to his elbows. “Dahlia’s long dead.”

“Like Esther?” Hayley added, setting her daughter inside the car seat that is on the ground beside Klaus.

“No one’s going to hurt Hope because no one’s going to find her.” Klaus announced. “That’s enough wood, Rebekah. You’ll burn down the whole bloody state of Arkansas.”

“Well, we’re just missing a key ingredient.” Rebekah pointed out, tone exuberant.

“No, we’re not.” Klaus tensed up instantaneously. Your eyes narrowed, curious as to what the siblings are referring to.

“Yes we are, Nik. Back me up, Elijah.” Rebekah gestured a nagging hand at the noble Mikaelson.

“I suspect Niklaus would rather choke on the ashes.” Elijah sniggered.

“What are you all talking about?” You asked, fed up with being out of the loop.

“Well, before we light it, we write down our wishes for each other to burn for good luck.” Rebekah answered. “It was Kol’s favorite part when we were kids.”

“Neat.” You murmured.

“Further evidence as to why we should ignore it.” Klaus mentioned with distaste.

“Nik.” You nagged, bothered that he’s such a bully to his youngest brother.

“Hope’s first bonfire season. I like it. We’re doing it.” Hayley remarked, turning on her heel as she waltzed inside the house. Klaus let out an exasperated sigh before picking up Hope’s carrier and taking her inside with Elijah following behind him.

“Now Y/N,” Rebekah started once her brothers were no longer earshot, “tell me all about your time with my brother.”

You snorted, hands at hips. “Where do I begin?”

(Meanwhile…)

A moment after, Hayley writes down her wish. She folds the piece of paper and stuffs it inside her front pocket. Then, she grabs a notepad and goes after Klaus who is sitting at the dining table, playing with his daughter that he’s missed so much.

“Here.” Hayley said, placing the notepad on the table directly in front of him.

Klaus stole a glance at the dreaded notepad before bringing his focus back to Hope. “I’m holding a small child, Hayley. The silly wish game will have to wait.”

“You write. I’ll hold.” She responded.

“You do realize it is not I who is to be the husband you can boss around.”

“Oh, right.” She shook her head slowly, as if coming to a realization. “Y/N!” She called, briefly looking over her shoulder.

He narrowed his eyes before handing his daughter to her mother. “Fine.”

Being confident as ever after talking Klaus into writing his wish, she was all smiles. “I wish you would tell Elijah you’re marrying your werewolf suitor,” Klaus mentioned as he’s writing, causing Hayley to come to a halt and frown, “at which point I would pour him a scotch and congratulate him on the bullet he dodged.”

Klaus rips the small sheet of paper off and hands it to Hayley with a smug. She snatched it from him, crumpled it in her hand and marched away with her daughter in her arm, evidently vexed.

You walked past Hayley before finding Klaus in the dining room. “Hey Nik. Did you write down your wish?” You asked. He gestured for you to sit on his lap and you did so by sitting on his left leg, snaking your right arm around his neck.

“Unfortunately.” He replied with raised brows. “Did you?”

“Of course I did.” You said. Klaus stared at you silently with a specified expression that you can easily determine. “And no, I’m not telling you my wish.” You are certain that if you tell him that you wish for Kai’s safe return, his elated mood would quickly plummet and that’s the last thing anyone wants right now. Especially you, since you’ve had your fair share of arguments with him already.

“Alright, love.” He allowed this defeat. He suddenly pats on your behind as a gesture to stand. “Come now. Let’s get this bloody bonfire started.” His tone was far from excited.

After bringing everyone to the front, Rebekah rushes inside the house as Klaus starts throwing lit matches to the wood one by one, in no rush for this bonfire. Minute by minute, the flame grows and Rebekah finally makes her return with a fairly aged Polaroid in her hand. “Hey, look what I found!” She mentioned with excitement, making her way to Hayley, Hope and Elijah who are standing at a fair distance from the flame. “I wonder if it’ll work.”

As everyone looks to Rebekah, Klaus is the least excited about his sister’s discovery. “Oh, bloody hell.” He puts his hands to his hips and looks away from her. You couldn’t help but giggle because you know how much Klaus dreads taking photos.

“Come on, let’s try. Hey Nik, do you think you can cram us into a selfie?” Rebekah walked over to the two you with everyone else following behind her. You thought it was adorable hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Niklaus is the virtuoso of cramming his siblings into confined spaces.” Elijah said snidely.

“Elijah’s got a point.” You chimed, refraining yourself from laughing at his snarky comment.

“I’m so glad I traveled hundreds of miles to visit my mentally ill brother only to have him insult me to my face.” Klaus looks down at the Polaroid camera, prepping it as everyone squeezes together.

“Come on, just take the picture.” Rebekah spat.

Finally, Klaus straightened his arm and raised the camera so that it’s at the right angle. Then, he gives it a few seconds before he snaps a photo. Everyone waited a beat for the photo to unveil itself full of you, your beloved, his deranged siblings that you adore, the mother of his child and their daughter. To put it simply. It’s a photo full of supernatural creatures. The majority mean the world to you. What an interesting combination.

To everyone’s misfortune, the photo needed to be burned for Hope’s safety. Klaus didn’t want to risk this photo ending up in the wrong hands. And as much as it kills everyone, it had to be done. You managed to remember to throw your wish in the bonfire as well. Rebekah, on the other hand, had everyone else’s attention. She was fed up and decided that she wants to do whatever it takes to take Esther down.

As everyone retreats inside, you remain put, staring at where that little piece of paper once was. You reach into your front pocket and dial Kai’s cell phone again, even though it’s a long shot. Frustrated with this loss, you continue calling his phone over and over again until you couldn’t handle hearing his obnoxious voicemail. “God dammit.” You whispered in frustration, staring up at the sky, shaking your head. “Where the hell are you, Kai?”

The flame is now dying down, so you made your way inside, following the Mikaelson’s voices. It seems they are forming a plan to defeat Esther.

After going over the very specific plan with them with a wine glass of blood in your hand, you took a much needed shower in an en-suite bathroom of your choice, then threw a robe on while your clothes are in the washer.

Stepping out of the laundry room, you go back inside the en-suite bathroom and comb your wet hair, freeing it of any knots. The sound of familiar footsteps approach, followed by the creaking of the door opening. “Showering?” You asked Klaus.

“It seems you did without me.” He smirked, freeing himself of his dark long sleeve to reveal his flawless physique. You made sure to steal a glance at him as you continued to brush through your strands.

“That’s too bad.” You answered lightheartedly.

“Indeed it is.” He added, eyeing you hungrily. He caught you off guard when he whooshed towards you and spun you to face him. You gasped at the gesture, hairbrush falling to the ground, awaiting his next move.

You peered up at the lust in his eyes, nipping at your bottom lip. In one brisk move, you are placed over the counter behind you and he leans down, pressing his plump lips onto yours, tongue swirling inside of your needy mouth.

You are his and he is yours. The thought alone made your entire being burst with elation. Your heart was beating so wildly as you wrapped your legs around him to bring him closer to you, feeling him harden by the second.

His hands began making its way to your cheeks all the way down to the knot of your robe, lips never detaching from yours.

Before you knew it, your robe was untied and you were completely naked on the bathroom counter. You were so caught up in this ravenous moment that you hadn’t realized you were naked until he stroked your breasts. The sinful gesture alone made you pool with desire down below.

Klaus separated his lips from yours and silently went on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He licked his upper lip, gazing up at you. “Wet, are we?” Klaus mentioned before starting on his meal.

You.

(Later…)

After a much deserved nap and a cup of coffee, the sun will soon disappear and the moon will make its appearance. You, Rebekah and Klaus hit the road back to New Orleans. Surprisingly, Klaus didn’t drive this time since he’s hardly had any rest, so he had Rebekah take over.

“You remember the plan, love?” Klaus asked you from the back seat.

“Yes I do.” You assured him casually, scrolling through your phone to cure your boredom. You’ve only heard the plan a million times before leaving Arkansas.

“Do you know what to do, Rebekah?” He asked his sister.

“Yes. But if it doesn’t go to plan, will you handle my body with care please?” She pouted. “I may miss the old model.”

“Of course we will.” You chimed in, peering at Rebekah for an ephemeral time before bringing your focus back to your phone.

“If everything goes south, i’ll be there to pull you out.” The hybrid stated. “We just have to take Esther down before she body-jumps. I don’t want all of this to have been for nothing.”

“You and I on the same team, Nik. It must be Christmas.” Rebekah added. Klaus responded with a grin before getting some shut eye during this prolonged car ride.

(Later…)

As soon as you touched down in New Orleans to the Mikaelson compound, you stretched your limbs and wandered inside. Cami, Marcel and Davina were gathered together in the courtyard, prepping for a spell. You shot them a glance before making a beeline for the grand kitchen because you were absolutely famished. Klaus had a quick word with Kol before Kol and Rebekah headed over to their mother’s current living quarters. It was an urgent step for the plan and everyone was in on it besides Esther and Finn.

Many minutes later, Klaus received a text from Rebekah and the two of you drove off into the night to the Lafayette cemetery, careful not to make too much noise before approaching them.

It wasn’t difficult to locate where Esther, Kol and Rebekah were in this large cemetery. All you had to do was follow the only illuminated area as well as use your vamp hearing. “Mother, think this through. You gave birth to this body. You can’t destroy it.” You heard Rebekah plead.

“I am only destroying its flesh. Your beautiful soul will live on in the body of another. I have chosen well for you. A beautiful girl. Strong.” Esther attempted to justify her actions, tone confident. You hid behind one of the nearest tombs.

“Mother!” Klaus shouted, standing tall above another tomb. “Stop the spell.” He dashed to the ground, taking long strides towards the trio. “You and your traitorous son.”

“Nik, I didn’t know anything about it. I swear.” Kol expressed.

“Oh good. I’m glad you two boys are friends again.” Esther said, pleased. “I did wonder what you’d been up to in your time away. Now I know.”

“Stop the blasted spell.” Klaus demanded.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Anything is possible. Take me instead.” Your brows furrowed at Klaus’s offer. You don’t recall him mentioning that. Though instead of dwelling on it, you stayed put until you were needed. You didn’t want to risk screwing up the plan. You hoped that he was just saying it to stall Esther.

“Nik, no!” Rebekah grasped his forearm.

“If only you’d taken my offer when it was still mine to give.” Esther blurted. “Unfortunately, you left me no choice but to make a deal with Mikael.”

“Mikael?” You mouthed to yourself, face contorting as you’re taken aback from the news. You completely forgot about him being alive in general, but the fact that the parents are teaming together doesn’t sound too great.

“When Finn and Kol went missing, I needed a new ally. All he wanted was the right to kill you.” Esther expressed. “Kol, I would ask you to deliver the stake to your father, but it seems your loyalties have been compromised.”

You tighten your grip around the white oak stake in your hand and your nostrils flared as you’re ready to pounce on Esther. In a flash you saw Klaus step towards your direction as if he was just casually pacing from exasperation. You were still undetected by Esther, so Klaus quickly winked at you before turning on his heel and shifting his expression back to an aggravated one. So far it’s selling.

“Stop the spell, Esther!” Klaus roared.

“It’s okay, Nik. I can do this.” Rebekah implied.

“So you’re feeling murderous again.” The mother spat, displeased. “You should know, I’ve already chosen another body.”

“Now!” Kol hollered and that was your cue.

Finally.

You whooshed towards Esther and stabbed her in the neck with the white oak stake. She looked at you with wide eyes as the blood poured down the new wound. You sighed in satisfaction, taking in the win. All went according to plan.

The sound of the witch bowl exploding into pieces near Kol at a distance and Klaus calling his sister’s name snapped you out of your victory. Looking over your shoulder, you find a passed out original sister in the arms of her older brother.

“Uh, did it work?” You flickered your eyes from Klaus to Kol for a response.

“I don’t know.” Klaus replied. “Kol, would you? I need to bring mother inside.” He gestured for Kol to hang onto Rebekah and he obliged. Klaus effortlessly threw his mother over his shoulder and escorted her body inside one of the sizable tombs. You learned from Kol that it’s spelled so that she cannot escape.

Klaus must’ve forgotten that Kol isn’t as strong as he is in his original body because he was slightly struggling to keep Rebekah on her feet. You came to his aid and threw her other arm over your shoulder, placing the white oak stake in your back pocket.

“Sister.” Kol called to you in a low tone, as if not wanting to be heard from Klaus. You hummed, notifying him that you’re all ears. “I’ve gotten mother to tell me your friend’s current placement.”

“You did?” Your head snapped to Kol, eyes widened, speaking in a loud whisper. “Is he alive?”

“Yes.” You exhaled in relief from his response. “But I’ll tell you more once we’re at the compound.”

“Thank you.” You mouthed to Kol who glimpsed at you, then to the ground. After days and nights of waiting, you’re finally going to get your answer.

-

A/N: So sorry to leave you guys on that cliffhanger! But it had to be done :) Thank you all for sticking with me and I’ll see you lovelies in the next chapter!

TAGS: @ynm1505 @ravenmoore14@xdontxcare @seasiren96@anyasthoughts @woodworthti666 @agentmarvel13@miss-lumiere@elizabeth-ann1090 @physically-a-cheesecake@azhar1422 @morsmornte @retrocontessa @kollover24 @thewolf-and-thesheep @xoxoaudreymarie @dezzym17@siphonersalvatore @yolobloggers @akshi8278 @simonsaysyasss @eggingamazinglove @brooklymw @baseballbitch116 @hyperion-moonbabe @iamjustaslytherinrose @lillianeh879  @hannahzlee @bokettolove @gangofhoes @sashimi-cat @marvel-ousnesss @deathkat657 @rauwz @star-adorned @bobamilqtea @lunareclipse-e @krazykatkay456 @geeksareunique @hybridgirl99 @romyislief @psychicwinnerstranger @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @derangedcupcake @yaniiie @classyunknownlover @britty443 @mockingjayd12 @ophellis @prospathww @the-specific-oceans @riverdaleserpent04 @bank-of-rubytowne @ballet-royale @sunflowersandsins @fakebeech @alka16555 @allllzcatt-blog @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis @its4everjenny @mikaelson-emma @lilulo-12 @unhappy-hannah @hookedtoherfire @smol-quackson @hxppy-ghxst @ivarthegoddess @nick-1432​ @simonsbluee @0moonlightthoughts0 @proudjaden @lalunasuenos @blonddnamedhandz @princekooks @supernatural-swiftie08 @2kayla64 @hernameisnoellex3​ @grim91103 @asusualitasterin @un-namedstalker​ @a-who-e​ 

[katerix]

Hey @pinyapple​! I’m your Secret Cupid! Here I am jumping from the horse into the last wagon of the event train:D I hope that the story is interesting, and you’ll enjoy it! @rdr-secret-cupid​ 

Pairing: John Marston\f!Reader Warnings: fluff\angst&comfort\a hint of smut - 3in1: a little bit of this and that Words: 3434 (picture is not mine \ credits to the author)

“Morning, my dear girl,” said your father when you approached a big wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. “Good morning, dad,” you smiled, sleepily rubbing your eye.

It was a Saturday morning and today you woke up exceptionally late, about 1pm.

You were living on a small farm with your father. It was located a few miles away from the nearest town and it would’ve taken a half an hour to ride there.

You loved to take an old Travis the horse from the stable and ran away where the sun was waking up early. You liked to dream about travelling, adventures and far lands in the shadow of a big tree not very far from your house.

“I’ve been in town this morning,” said your father. “Did you? You never told me that you were going to. How was the ride? Everything was fine?” “Yes, sure. I saw Mrs. Anderson. She sent her regards.” “Oh, I appreciate that, thank you,” you smiled at him.

Mrs. Anderson was a nice woman who had a small flower shop and always gave you some flowers when you attended the town.

“I will drop in during the next visit,” you said while making yourself tea and sliced some more bread. “That’s what I’d like to hear!”, he replied.

Mr. (y\second name) was conservative when it came to the questions of manners. You were always expected to be a polite girl from a good family and you definitely were. But the young blood always desires venture. May it be caused by the stars location or chaotic decision of capricious gods, but something led you to the meeting with a man called John Marston on that fateful evening.

You opened the newspaper which was on the corner of the table and looked through some articles before you turned to your father.

“Dad? I wanted to go for a walk tonight. I heard that this evening will be special and the starfall must be observable from our part of the world!” “What do you say!” “Yes! I heard it from Mr. Douglas a week ago.” “You want to go out alone at night? You are a grown up lady and it’s not my privilege to tell you what to do, but don’t you think it’s a dangerous idea? There’re criminal elements in this area, you know that." “Oh don’t worry papa, I won’t be alone. I arranged to get together with our former sheriff’s elder son. He likes astronomy, do you remember that?” “Sure I do,” - he kept silent for some moment then said, - “Well. I think I can agree on that.”

Sheriff’s elder son was a man in his early forties and was married to a town girl and had already earned himself time to do astronomy, so there was nothing to worry about. Of course, getting such an alibi was a bold action, because if your father decides to ask about observing the stars, just from the point of good manners, the truth will be brought to the light. Your actual plan was to meet with John today. You also wanted to discuss a family dinner. The truth was that none of them knew about it - that’s why you were feeling a little nervous about the upcoming meeting. You wanted to introduce John to your father, but he always wanted you to unite for life with a noble young man from a prospective family, occupied in, let’s say, sales. Somehow you and John could hide your relationship for more than a year. His lifestyle, his bonds with the gang were making you question the possibility of your fine peaceful life together one day. And the fact that Mr. Marston never protested against these dreams of yours, was inspiring a warm feeling in your heart. 

“So when do you want to leave?” “Around half past nine, it must be almost dark.” “You sure you don’t want me to escort you there?” “No-no, there’s no need for such sacrifice,” you giggled. Your dad gave you a delicate smile and sipped from his cup.

*** There was nowhere to rush now, when the father approved your little prairie voyage, so the rest of the day you spent in the garden behind the house. The territory of the ranch was quite big but the main part of your property rendered suitable land for agriculture. A small piece of it was gifted to you in order to plant flowers there. A lot of seeds were bought from Mrs. Anderson's, and sometimes you even brought her some of your own for sale. Roses of any kind and size, some tiger lilies and peonies- that all made your flower garden look great.

The closer to the time, the more excited you were. You dressed in a shirt and trousers with boots, with a thin fur jacket - for the night ride it was the best option - and took a creamy pink rose to put it in your hair once you are beyond the fence. You went down to find your father and say him goodbye.

“Dad, you here? I’m leaving!”

You looked into the living room, expecting to see him there with a book or at the table, writing another business letter, but it was empty. Then she heard a noise from the second floor and saw your father on the staircase.

“Already going?” “Yes, it’s high time. I’ll do my best to come back before dawn!” “What are you doing to your old man, young lady!” he laughed, making his way down the stairs to give his daughter an embrace. “Don’t worry, I will be fine, I promise. Please, you should think about your heart, papa,” you smiled widely, hugging him in an answer. “Be careful, my dear.” “I will,” you waved with your hand.

*** You almost approached the meeting point, when you felt your horse getting worrisome and saw the skies turning dark quickly. Rains in this area were starting as fast as they finished and you could only wonder “why now?”. Deep dark heavens didn’t condescend to the answer, so you just rubbed your legs in disappointment and continued riding to find a hideout before the first raindrops. You purposely avoided the Thieves Landing, so there were not many placed to hide from the rain on her way. During your and John's last meeting some days ago you decided to meet in the woods in West Elizabeth where there was a perfect spot upon the cliffs to watch the grand river from a distance, where not a single soul could disturb them.

Suddenly she heard a horse neighing then she saw a rider coming from behind the hill. At first you were dismayed as you didn’t have any weapon, but a moment later you recognized a familiar figure.

“Hey, sweetheart, isn’t it dangerous for such a pretty lady to ride alone at night?” then a low laughter followed.

When John’s horse got closer, you couldn’t help but resent:

“You scared the hell out of me! I thought it was a gangster who tracked me down.” “Well, actually I am a gangster, you see!”

As he hoped, your frustration was softened by his silly joke. It always gave him a warm feeling, because his sense of humor left a lot to be desired, but you always found it funny.

His horse drew level with yours, and he leaned down to kiss you, grinning when he saw how modestly you hid your smile.

“Oh no, y\n, do not hide this beautiful smile from me!”

You raised your head and looked at the man. His hand reached out to you and gently touched your chin, leaving a deep kiss on your lips.

“How was the road? Got without troubles?” asked John, picturing the way from the ranch to this point in his head. “As long as troubles don’t follow me - it’s fine by me. Why?” “It’s nothing really. On the way here I saw some gentlemen, heading west.”

John looked up in the sky and his eyebrows got together as he noticed how lightly you were dressed and how the sudden gust made your hair fly. “I know an old abandoned household not far from here. If we move right now, we can reach it before the storm.”

“I feel that something worries you.” “No-no, that’s totally fine,” he replied, taking a last look in the direction you came from.

After a while you finally reached the mansion that John was talking about. In real life it turned out to be bigger and more of a manor than “an old abandoned house”. Suddenly the skies split up in two by bright lightning, then a remote thunder hit your ears. You shuddered. What got into you? You were never afraid of thunder or darkness but this time something was scratching your heart with little iron claws.

You didn't notice that John had already dismounted, came over to you and put his hand on your leg, gently running it up and down.

“We going? Or you prefer to stay under the rain?” “Ah? Yeah,” with these words you tried to get down from the horse, only to end up in his arms, as he readily caught you up. You felt your heart beat faster against his chest, so you even wondered if he felt it or not, when you saw a dorky smile on his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. That, obviously, was not the most non-banal compliment, but he couldn’t help but admire your features and the flower in your hair, which so perfectly accentuated the color of your eyes. John didn’t let you stand on the ground and carried you all the way to the mansion.

When you entered the building, you stood on the floor and looked around. Tall walls were covered in old, almost destroyed by dampness, dull red wallpapers. You walked around the room and stopped next to the beautiful, probably, handmade sofa. John walked up to you and cuddled you from behind. His hand traced along your stomach and slid to your leg. You felt his warm breath on your neck. You turned around and kissed his jawline, moved up to the lips. He answered with a deep, passionate kiss. Then, with a sharp movement, he lifted you up and put you down, pinning down onto the couch.

*** “John?” “Yeah?” his voice sounded low and lazy. “I need to tell you something.” “I’m all ears, sweetheart.” “Do… Do you love me?” you felt how your cheeks were becoming hot. You also realized how silly this may sound, but you couldn’t take your words back.

John looked down at you lying on top of him and thoughtfully twirled a lock of your hair around his finger.

“Of course, princess. Why’d you ask?”

You were not sure how to reply so you didn’t rush to look in his eyes.

“You remember my father? Mr. y\sn.” “I’ve seen him in the town once. But never after that. Is that about him? Did anything happen?” “No, everything is fine. I just wanted to ask if… Would you come for a family dinner tomorrow? I’d introduce you to my father…»

He kept silent for a while. So you started to feel nervous and asked yourself why you even initiated that conversation. But then he answered:

“I’m not in my best shape to show up in higher society, you know..”

Again you looked up at him. Then smiled and gently touched his cheek, fingertips slowly stroking his fresh scars.

“I absolutely love your current shape, John.”

You felt him pressing you against his chest closer, rubbing a little invisible patterns on your bare back.

“It would be a great pleasure to come, but… You sure your father would enjoy my company? Because I’m not sure at all.”

Now it was your turn to make a pause.

He chuckled:

“Let it be.” “So will you come tomorrow?” “I’ll be there. I promise.”

The second you heard that, you felt like a huge rock got down from your shoulders, finally letting you breath.

You spent some more hours together in each other's embrace.

*** You were sitting on the doorsteps when you heard a noise from behind the barn. You didn’t expect John to come so soon and also why he didn't choose an open road to the ranch. After a long talk your father agreed to have dinner all together, so there was no need to sneak. The next moment you saw two riders, coming around the corner, your eyes got wider. Suddenly you heard the sound of a cocked gun to your left and shuddered.

“Hello, ma’am. Mind if I come in?”

You looked at the source of the sound and saw a middle aged man with shirt red hair and a whisker. You never saw him before, but you had no doubt that he was some gang leader. His hazel eyes were looking cold at you and it seemed obvious that an argument was not an option - a weapon pointed at you was a thing to be scared of.

“Move,” he ordered.

Two riders who were supposed to divert attention got closer, and you recognised two customers from the shop a week ago. Their leader with a rifle repeated in low tone:

“Go.”

You followed the order without saying a word. Men entered the house after you.

“Tie her up. I don’t like her sight, and I don’t want any surprise.”

Three more men entered the house and God knows how many of them left outside. One of the newcomers took off a rope and tied your hands up - you felt a slight pain caused by rough material.

“Good. And now, Mr.(y\sn),” he turned to your dad, “let’s talk.” The ginger man made an inviting gesture. You looked at your father and saw fear in his eyes, but he was acting totally cool and calm. Two men, standing next to the door, were holding rifles at the ready. Your dad nodded and went to the kitchen, followed by the ginger man.

You stayed alone in the living room, other gangsters were standing outside. You didn’t hear the conversation and had no idea about the reason for this attack, so you focused on the rope. An attempt to get rid of it has proven unfruitful, so you looked around to find any tool.

When you were about to stand up and search the desk drawers, a loud shot rang out behind the window. You saw three gangsters running out from the kitchen, swearing and shouting curses. You carefully approached the window and looked out. A splash of bright red blood covered the window glass and you staggered back, breathing heavy and fast. You heard a familiar voice from the distance:

“Don’t hide, cowards! Are you afraid of just one man?” taunting his enemies was so much like John.

You already started to worry - what if he would have changed his mind and would never showed up? You were happy that he appeared, and did it right in time. The sounds of battle continued unabated, and you thought that now was the best chance to get to the kitchen. The moment you were already next to the door your sight faced a dark shadow suddenly appeared in the doorway. You looked up and with a horror recognised the ginger man. You wanted to step away, but he grabbed you faster than you could blink.

“Let me go!” you tried to escape this tight grip but he was stronger.

You saw your father making an attempt to hit the bastard, but he didn’t seem to even notice that. He turned around and knocked Mr.(y\sn) down on the floor with his revolver.

“You son of a bitch! You will regret this!” you shouted at him. That was not a wise thing to do, but seeing him hurting your relative made you mad in a second.

“Language, lady,” the gangster chuckled, making an effort to hold you still, as you were kicking furiously, “Relax. I won’t hurt you,” his left, spare of a gun palm touched your cheek.

You were breathing heavily. “Where are you, John» you thought. Another one shot rang out louder , and you heard a voice screaming curses. For seconds you couldn’t hear anything from the outside. All outlaws were probably dead or wounded. But three gangsters were still inside the house - one behind the door corner, two others were next to the windows.

“C’mon, be a good girl,” said the gang leader and pulled you after him. Together you returned into the living room and the man stood behind a small purpur sofa, facing the doorway - the revolver at the ready. You couldn’t see your father was sitting beneath the wall, holding his hand on the forehead, a thin blood line was going down the temple.

The sound of shooting was getting closer, you heard how two or three bullets hit the wall. If earlier the gang leader was a picture of self-confidence, now this confidence of his started fading away. You kept quiet just continuing to fidget slightly.

The minutes seemed endless but the voice ripped you out of your thoughts:

“Hey mister, let the girl go. You don’t want problems, believe me!” “What about you taking your cowboy ass out of here, now?” “I’ll let you live if you free her.” “Put your weapon on the floor so I can see it and step inside. Or I'm gonna shoot this pretty face.”

John hesitated but then followed the order and put the rifle on the floor, slowly pushing it inside.

“I’m coming in. Don’t shoot.”

You felt how the ginger man swallowed loudly. He was nervous. You saw John entering. His right hand was close to body, another one slightly aside, demonstrating that he was disarmed. The gangster revolver was following the cowboy as he was approaching. He said something else, but you already stopped listening. You didn't have time to think that it could be dangerous but suddenly you kicked him hard on the leg with the heel.

Then everything happened too fast. You didn’t notice how John took out a gun with his right hand and shot right between the gangster’s eyes. 

“John!”

He rushed toward you, held your tied hands and hurried to untie them with his hands shaking.

“Shh-shh, you are safe, y\n, you are safe now, everything is fine,” he whispered.

Once you were free, he pressed you against him tightly, burying his face in your hair. You crossed your hands behind his back.

“You came!” “How could I not come?” he looked down at you, cupping your cheeks, and kissed you gently. 

You hardly kept a smile back. You two remained this way for a couple of minutes until your breath became calm and quiet. You were too overwhelmed with emotions that you didn’t even see a bloody wound on his shoulder.

“Oh no, your arm! You are hurt!”

“It’s just a scratch, baby,” he smiled at you, clumsily hiding a pleasure of you being so lovely and cute, and worrying that much about him. “Let’s help your dad,” said John and kissed your hand.

He stepped aside holding your hand in his and headed to the corridor. Your father was already back on foot and, when he turned to you, you saw an expression of relief on his face.

“Oh, you are safe, my dear girl, thank God!” you ran towards the oldman and hugged him.

John was standing a couple of steps aside with his head slightly bent down and a faint smile on his lips, leaning on one leg, left hand on his side. Only now you noticed that he was dressed not casually, but as festive as possible.

Mr.(y\sn) looked at John and you saw respect in his eyes. He approached the cowboy and held out his hand in order to shake in gratitude.

“To my knowledge, our hero must be John Marston,” he gave a fast glance in your direction, “you saved our lives, young man. I can never thank you enough for that.”

John shaked your father’s hand with a friendly smirk.

“Don’t worry, Mr.(y\sn). That was my duty to protect unarmed people from this bunch of bastards.”

“Well, don’t you mind going to the kitchen? Everything was prepared an eternity ago. Do you like whiskey, Mr. Marston?”

You came a little closer to them to be a part of a talk too.

“Sure, sir.”

Your father went away, and John softly touched your waist to let you go first.

[alwaysalreadyangry]

reading one of the (too many) zines i have about folklore last night on the Lord of Misrule tradition in pre-modern England/Europe and started thinking about how it would be the perfect tradition for Joe/Nicky to start telling Nile about their participation in, and she can’t tell to what degree they’re being truthful and to what degree they’re just bullshitting her for giggles. ANYWAY, i am not really fit to write this up as a proper fic, so here is my CONCEPT, do with it what you will:

Joe tells Nile a story about how one year in the 15th century, or whatever, he and Nicky were working in a noble household as servants for a while (IDK they were trying to decide what to do next and somehow it just happened) and somehow Nicky got elected Lord of Misrule for the festivities

Joe’s like, they always thought he was this meek man who would just go along with the festivities as always, lightly mocking the lord and his wife without causing any trouble... but Nicky isn’t a mouse!

Nile: what did he... do? And Joe who is absolutely fucking with her looks off into the distance and is like, it was such an incredible scene... the real reason behind the peasants’ revolt that started six months later...

Nicky, who has been patiently listening while he peels an apple with a knife and cuts off pieces to alternately eat himself or feed to Joe (they both eat the pieces directly off Nicky’s knife, which Nile thinks is gross) is like, wait

“I convinced Joe to wear a dress and be the Lady of Misrule. It was very sexy. Nobody cared at all. There was lots of wine.”

Joe is like, babe, they killed you when the festival is over and screamed when you came back to life, and then we had to skip town immediately

Nicky: The Feast of Fools often ended with a sacrifice. I don’t think they killed me because I danced with you too much. If I recall you were Quite In Demand, you had many suitors.

Joe: but I only had eyes for you. In that hideous purple outfit, with the bells tied to your legs. I wanted to tear it all off you.

Nicky: you did, remember—

Nile: Ew, no thank you. Wait, you’re trying to make me believe they were carrying out pagan human sacrifices in Western Europe in the fifteenth century as part of Christmas celebrations? Please, I was not actually born yesterday

Andy, pretending to nap in the corner: pretty sure that’s a case where they were so annoying someone just lightly stabbed them to make them go away.

[treason-and-plot]

REPLIES TO RAJ’S RECISION

@phoenixfg​

This is very adult of them...I'm suspicious!!🤔🤔

I don’t blame you for being suspicious...but Raj has always been very chivalrous when it comes to Mia! But he also may have other, less noble reasons...

@streetlightaurora​

💀🎉💀

@streetlightaurora​

... Will he watch? 😂

@sweetnovember77​

YES! 🙌🏾 I live for people who take responsibility and accountability!—the way my energy is set up. Mia you will appreciate it when you sober up

I really hope Mia sees it that way, lolol! And Raj’s reasons for not going through with the deed may not be 100% honourable...someone else is also in his thoughts.

@wannabecatwriter​

This is a good thing though. They are both under the influence and even though they seem fine, I doubt they would've thought sleeping together in this state is a good idea.

Exactly, and Raj knows this, for a variety of reasons. Mia though I’m not so sure about, lolol!

@muses-circle​

Huh. This is not how I expected this to end. 😂 Is Raj just saying that? Does he mean it? Are we goi g to see some honest romantic moments sans alcohol between then at some point? Asking for a friend. 😁

‘Honest, romantic moments’...oh my!

He does mean it, and this is definitely not an end...it’s very much a beginning! 

Also ‘asking for a friend’ always makes me giggle, lol!

@ktarsims​

I don’t think Mia would have had any regrets, but... Raj is still going to be entertaining Cookie for a while, so even this far is a bit far at the moment. I don’t think Raj would say that if he didn’t actually mean it. Raj is like... he’s ruthless yes, and he might only obey the law if it’s convenient or necessary. But he does seem to genuinely try to lookout for the people around him.

Yes, Cookie is definitely in Raj’s thoughts. There’s only so much humiliation a girl can put up with, and I’m sure that she would leave him if she thought he was cheating on her, and would take her money with her. 

Just wanted to add too that Raj wasn’t lying when he said he loves Mia. He sees her as someone worthy of his loyalty, as he does all the people in his inner circle. He will literally kill for those people he holds dear to him.

@mysimsloveaffair​

Another very well written scene. I respect Raj for this. And I love the last few lines! lol

Thank you so much dear friend! I’m always so deliriously happy to receive your compliments!

@braxensims​

💘

@shhhushhh​

😀 Her comment!! Defenitely lightened up the atmosphere. On a more sad note - somehow this whole scene and the situation Raj is in made me think of James Brown's song "Paid the cost to be the boss".

Yeah I felt like it wouldn’t be true to Mia if she didn’t let slip with something irreverent! And yeah, Raj’s situation is a brilliant example of the sacrifices James Brown was singing about. Fingers crossed the next James Brown song Raj and Mia will be referencing is ‘Sex Machine!’ ;=)

@phyresimblr​

My respect for Raj had risen quite a bit by his actions tonight!! Perhaps there is hope for you yet ;) Just don’t ever hurt Mia!

@nocturnalazure​

Doh! I was expecting he'd say that AFTER they'd done it!

@ivorycrayon​

Huh. Didn’t expect it to go this way at all. And I have no idea what to believe :o But lovely piece of writing 💜

I think @ktarsims​ nailed it pretty much above ;=) And Raj does love Mia, but perhaps with not quite the same unbridled passion...but it is still love, nevertheless. And thank you for the lovely compliment, Ash!!

@buckleysims​

THIS right here is why I love Raj. And the last bit, that's why I love Mia. ♥♥♥ They're both so different and so flawed, but they have so much chemistry and their imperfections suit each other. I cannot wait to see what happens next!

Thank you so much Colleen! You’re always so kind and supportive.

And I’m really hoping to build on that chemistry, esp. now they’ve kissed ;=)

@devotedghosts​

He’s going to sleep with her and I don’t know who Raj think he fooling.

@greywardenconsort​

Le Sigh...

[januarywren]

I was inspired by the stansa story, ‘A Lady in Waiting,’ by the wonderful @the-red-wulf and wrote ‘Winter’s Princess’ from Shireen/Stannis’ POV. 🦕💙 

I’ll post the fic below as well (sfw!). It made me happy to write - almost as happy as when I read Red Wulf’s work. Every fic is so earnestly sweet and romantic, they make me want to fall in love. 🤍💙

Ever since she could remember, Shireen knew that she was loved.

She had never known what it was like to be without a warm presence beside her or have no one to confess her hurts and her wishes to. Shireen only had to trace the stags and daisies embroidered on her sleeves and know that she wasn’t alone – she never was, with Davos, and Patches, and her parents beside her.

Shireen loved them all in different ways and would never choose a favorite between them; though she knew Davos was the best with her secrets, Patches was always able to amuse and uplift her, and her parents would always be there. Her mother always had a sweet word, and a comforting embrace, while her father could advise her as no one else could. Davos’ wife, Marya, made her happy too, though she was often busy with her sons, who Shireen found too rough to play with.

She knew that others weren’t as fortunate, the thought making her heart tremble. She prayed for many things to the Seven, her thoughts revolving around her mother and the swell of her bodice, and her father who had never looked so happy.

(“He was like this before, when you were just born,” Sansa, the only mother that she had ever known confided. It wasn’t often that Shireen thought of her blood mother, Selyse, though she dutifully included her in her prayers. “He loves you very much, darling. He always has.”)

Her slipper-clad feet slapped against the marble as she ran, heedless of the guard that followed her. Shireen clutched her gift near, knowing she would be devastated if she dropped it. She and her father had wanted to do something special for her mother’s name day…

“Papa!" Shireen exclaimed as she slipped into his study. He looked up from his papers, his scowl vanishing as he saw who it was. "Look! The roses bloomed!"

“Indeed,” Stannis said, as he rose to his feet. The warmth in his tone was one he reserved for only a handful of people, namely his wife, and their daughter. Shireen beamed as she presented the crown of roses that she’d weaved.

“Do you think mama will like them?” Shireen asked, her eyes growing wide as her father took the crown from her. He handled it gently, his eyes softening as he thought of his wife, Sansa. She was a princess of the North, his constant companion, and the only woman that he had dared to adore.

And love, as he never had before.

“I do,” Stannis murmured, handing the crown back to her.

Shireen worried her lip, her brow knitting for a moment. “Do you think it will make her sad, papa?” she asked, her tone quiet. She often heard stories of Winterfell before bed, leaving her with thoughts of swirling snow, a sacred Godswood, and the ghosts that haunted the castle walls within.

“Mama says that she misses Winterfell very much, though she would never leave us. She – she promised me,” Shireen added, her cheeks flushing pink.

The blue roses that Stannis had grown with his daughter were the only secret they kept from Sansa, one they intended to reveal on her name day. Davos had found the sole trader in King’s Landing who possessed the rare seeds, and the palace gardeners had carefully cultivated them, tending them much as they would at Winterfell.

(The sole gardener who claimed it wasn't possible was quickly shoved aside by the others – their winter queen was adored by many, including most of the palace servants.)

She was nothing like Stannis’s first queen, Selyse, who had spared little kindness for the servants, nor for the nobles alike. Her name was rarely spoken, as overshadowed by Sansa as she was. For Sansa was Selyse’s opposite in every way; delighting in balls and fetes, bestowing her smile on countless, and loving both Stannis and Shireen as Selyse never had.

Stannis ruffled his daughter’s hair, something he would have never dared before. Sansa had changed him in ways he had never fathomed, causing a warmth to spread throughout him as if he were the same as any Stark. (Had her brother Robb not married for love? He was a foolish boy, a reckless man, yet Stannis found he could understand.)

“She will love them, Shireen,” Stannis said, as Shireen looked up at him with thoughtful eyes. Shireen was the only reason Stannis never regretted his marriage to Selyse, as cold as their marriage was. It was nothing like his marriage with Sansa, one made for love, and domestic bliss. Sansa would never break her word to him nor their daughter, and their coming child, her thoughts and her promises as steady as the sun.

There were times when Stannis felt pity for the man that he once was, rigidly following his duty, and Selyse, who never knew true happiness with him. They were betrothed before they left the cradle, and the thought of breaking their betrothal had never occurred to them. They married out of obligation, and nothing had ever occurred between them that they wanted or asked for.  It would be different for Shireen when the time came for her to marry, neither Stannis nor Sansa desiring her to sacrifice her heart and her body, for the sake of politics.

“Just as Sansa loves our home here, and you.”

He meant every word and was glad for it. He knew that he could be harsh, even cruel to the ones that followed him as he thought of little beyond facts and figures. Yet when it came to his daughter or his wife, he found himself wanting to be more than dutiful and solemn.

“She loves you too, papa,” Shireen replied, her braids bobbing as she nodded her head. After seeing the pretty braids that her mother wore, Shireen had never stopped begging for the same – and in the privacy of their apartments, Stannis allowed his daughter to look like a northern princess, the same as her mother was.

Neither he nor Sansa could deny Shireen, not when she asked so sweetly, and had such an earnest soul. “She said so -”

“Did she?” Stannis asked, his tone light. Davos would have laughed, had he overheard, for he warned his friend that he was softening. (“You’re becoming a father in truth, Your Grace,” Davos told him, shortly after witnessing him watching as Sansa played in the gardens with Shireen. “Do you see why I can deny my boys nothing? Nor can my wife, who wears a similar look like you, when she sees our youngest... “)

“Yes!” Shireen cried.

Stannis smiled, for how could he not?

Sansa had changed his life, as well as Shireen's, for, since her birth, Sansa had raised her as a mother would. She had raised Shireen as if she were her daughter in truth; singing to her when she cried, holding her hand when she learned to walk, and mopping her brow when she was sick. Shireen was never far from her, their laughter filling the palace halls, and at times, even sharing the same bed.

And when Selyse had passed –

Shireen’s life hadn’t changed at all, as Sansa was the only mother she had ever known. Nor had Stannis wept, as he mourned the loss of a woman that had never wanted him, nor the daughter she had borne. There was little change in the palace, as Sansa remained in charge of Shireen, and remained in his company.

Her smiles, her laugh, her hesitant touch on his sleeve –

It was everything to Stannis, and he had only one thought after Selyse passed: Sansa could be his.

It delighted and terrified him in turn, as he glimpsed what a life with her could be. She would have all of him or none, and in the months that followed, Stannis found himself exposed, as he never had before. Sansa knew him more than he knew himself, and he often wondered whether he was enough.

For he wanted her by his side, as his queen, as his wife, and the mother of his children. There was no one else that Shireen took to as she did Sansa, who was unfaltering in her kindness and patience. There was true love between them, as they giggled at Patches’ the fool’s antics, and coaxed the surly royal chef into making lemon cakes for them. Shireen learned kindness and manners from Sansa as if she were truly her own daughter, and Stannis found himself wishing to learn everything that Sansa would teach him.  

And so, after he put away his black garments, and was free once more; he asked her the question that could change both their lives. (“Will you be mine?” he asked, his tone hesitant as if he were a boy once more, “My wife, my queen – “

‘I would do anything to make you happy,’ Stannis wanted to add, he needed to add –

He would force his sword through his doublet before he hurt her, the thought of her fearing him make his blood freeze. He wanted her as he wanted nothing before and wished with every fiber of his being that theirs would be more than a dutiful marriage. He wanted to adorn her with his love and see her swell with child while wearing the crown. He wanted her heart and her soul.

The words spilled from his lips before he could swallow them, and her smile was like the sun. It was blinding and warm, and he stepped closer to her.

“I want nothing else,” Sansa whispered, as he pressed her hand against his cheek. He wanted to keep it there, greedy for her warmth, her love, and she seemed to feel the same. Her blue eyes held his, utterly absent of fear.  “I dream of nothing else, Stannis.”)

It was the best day of their lives, as Stannis and Sansa both wept, with Shireen between them.

Stannis guided Shireen to the study door, content with leaving scrolls behind on his desk. “Should we go surprise her?” he asked, chuckling as Shireen shrieked in response.

It was their first secret they’d shared, the first surprise they both thought of. Sansa brought them together in more ways than one, something Stannis would never be able to thank her enough for.

Shireen beamed up at him, with a toothy-grin and bright, wide eyes. “Yes, please!”

[rwbyremnants]

TRIGGER WARNING: Racism and abuse.

NOTE: Merry Christma... well, Boxing Day! Sorry this chapter isn't exactly the most festive it could have been. Hopefully you enjoy it anyway!

=Chapter 9

That early evening, Weiss felt content in her knowledge that she and Yang were on good terms, and that they had already logged some study time to help Yang improve her grades. Things were going well. Now, she only had to solve one other new problem that had presented itself.

“Search me,” Pyrrha sighed as she gently stirred her milkshake with the straw, gazing into the far corner of the malt shop. Weiss had elected to have only a cherry phosphate, not wanting to spoil her dinner since she was eating at home tonight. “I’m an only child.”

“I might as well be,” Weiss admitted. “Whitley is a pill, and a boy anyway, and Winter’s been gone away to college for a couple of years now. Father won’t even tell me if she calls or writes since he’s so disappointed in her career choice.”

“But the WAC is a noble field! I’ve actually been thinking of enlisting myself, if I don’t train for the Olympics…”

Lowering her voice, Weiss whispered, “I think he expects it to turn her into a lesbian. Since the army is ‘men’s work’ to him. Which is pretty ironic, isn’t it? Worried about the wrong daughter.” Then in a more normal tone, she added, “Plus, he wanted her to take over the company reins. I’m not as well-suited, even though I want to - and Whitley is completely useless, the selfish little toad. But it’s too late; she’s even more stubborn than me, and won’t change her mind for anything.”

Pyrrha nodded to herself as Danny And The Juniors came on the jukebox. A few of the kids in the far corner got up and started to dance, even though it always made the elderly man behind the counter roll his eyes. Privately, Weiss thought that if he hated modern music so much, he shouldn’t provide it for the clientele.

“Well… are you sure you want to take over the business?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not set in stone. If you want to do something else with your life, I think you should. We only go around once, don’t we?”

“Thanks,” Weiss snorted as she patted Pyrrha’s hand. “You’re a peach, Pyrrha. But no… I do think I’d like to take over Schnee Communications. Really do something big with it.” She noticed her other hand was tapping the stem of her soda glass, and she smiled. “Did you want to dance?”

“Hm? Dance? Me? To what?”

“To ‘At The Hop’, you dunce,” she giggled.

“With you?” An instant later, she blanched and followed up, “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that! I just m-meant… well, we’re in public, a-and I’m not like you are, a-and-”

“No one cares if two girls dance together, Pyrrha. As long as we don’t start necking in the middle of the malt shop, it’s fine! Besides… maybe we’ll get asked to dance by boys.”

Still flushed, Pyrrha glanced over shoulder at the crowd. “You really think so?”

“I do. And who knows? Might get your mind off a certain Jaune Arc.”

“Shhh!” she hissed, but even while Weiss was giggling she slid out of the booth and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her just far enough from their booth to dance.

Neither of them were very good at it, but at least enough to keep time with the music and avoid knocking anything - or anyone - to the floor. Weiss had to admit she was impressed with Pyrrha’s jitterbugging, and even herself for not falling on her behind even once. She did see out of the corner of her eye that a few of the boys were watching them with slight astonishment, but she made up her mind not to care; if she projected confidence, showed that she didn’t care in the slightest, they would eventually go back to their own dance partners. And she was right; a couple of other girls did the same, and even two boys, laughing at the absurdity. Maybe they would start a trend!

When “All Shook Up” came on next, she couldn’t seem to help herself; she really thought Elvis was the most. Pyrrha took a step back and let Weiss put on a show by herself, mostly just swaying and snapping her fingers. Neither of them minded much, and she got a few cheers when the song ended. Vaguely embarrassed, she curtsied and moved to sit down.

Then someone put in another dime and cued up “Lollipop”. Pyrrha kept dancing, but Weiss decided that it was time to put on a show of a different kind.

“Call my baby lollipop, tell you why,” she belted out in time with the Chordettes, earning her wolf-whistles and thunderous applause from all but the elderly soda jerk. “His kiss is sweeter than an apple pie! And when he does his shaky rockin' dance, man, I haven't got a chance!”

Everyone started singing along with the chorus, and Pyrrha laughed and clapped louder, clearly enjoying herself. Weiss was, too. For some reason, she had always thought it too unseemly to dance in public anytime other than an actual school sock hop. Singing was another matter, but her father expected her to keep her performances to operetta and hymns. As much as she liked popular music, it was discouraged and seen as “pedestrian”, so she had never owned any records of her own.

Finally worn out, the two of them finished off their drinks and then made their way home. If they settled in quickly, they could study for an hour or so before suppertime.

However, as it turned out, life had other plans.

“Weiss!” her father called out as they passed through the living room. “May I speak with you a moment?”

“Yes, Father?”

He glanced pointedly at Pyrrha. “Alone?”

“Sorry,” she whispered to her friend. “I’ll be up in a minute?” Pyrrha nodded, waving at Mr. Schnee as she headed upstairs. He did not deign to acknowledge her.

“Good. Sit.” He motioned to the couch before reclaiming his armchair. Weiss obeyed, sitting primly on the edge of the cushion. “I was hoping you would be able to shed some light on certain information that has come into my possession.”

“Sorry, what information is that?”

“Apparently, you have been consorting with known delinquents.”

As she stared at her father, the bottom dropped out of Weiss's stomach. Someone had seen her with Yang. Who?! They hadn't been very discreet so it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that they had been caught - and yet it did. She was completely gobsmacked. Still, there was no reason to cop to everything right away; maybe he didn't know very much, and she certainly didn't want to accidentally volunteer information that wasn't necessary to volunteer.

“What?”

“Don't play coy with me,” he went on with a slight sneer that lifted the corner of his mustache. “Whitley saw you sneaking out of the house in the dead of night. What could you have been thinking?”

It was worse than she thought. Of course her father would believe Whitley, that little toad. “W-well, I only went to retrieve a school book I loaned out.”

“To that Chinese girl, hmm?”

“Yes. I'm helping her with math and-”

“You expect me to believe that the only reason you climbed down the side of our home was to retrieve a book? Just what sort of fool do you take me for?”

“The best sort! Wait- I mean, no fool at all, Sir!”

Shaking his head, he crossed his legs and leaned heavily against one elbow. “All the money spent on tutoring, already wasted when you insisted on going to a public school instead of a private academy. Your mother made the inane decision that if it was what you wanted, it was worth the sacrifice. And now look where we are! You’re running around Vale with some kind of… opium fiends on motorbikes!”

“Opium…” Weiss rolled her eyes when she made the connection. “Just because she’s half-Chinese doesn’t mean she’s ever even seen opium, Father. And as far as I know, she hasn’t!”

“Oh, really? You have enough experience with the fruit of the poppy that you can tell the difference?”

It was very difficult for her not to get upset with him. “I’ve literally never spent a moment thinking about her being Chinese. She’s being raised by her mother, who’s from America.”

“Hmph. The fact remains, she is not the sort of friend you ought to be keeping company with. I forbid you to see her anymore.”

“You what?” Blinking up at him, she waited for him to elaborate, or to rescind his edict. He did not. So she burst out, “You can’t do that!”

“I just have.”

“But she’s-” It took quite a lot of effort to suppress some kind of ill-conceived confession of love. “Father, she needs my help in school, a-and we’re good friends! And you won’t tell me I’m not to see her!”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Watch your tongue, young lady. This is my house, and what I say goes.”

“NO!”

“Excuse me?”

“Not this time!” she snapped, leaping to her feet. She knew this wasn’t a spectacular idea, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself; it was as if the anger pulsing behind her temples was taking over her body, separating her from being able to command it any longer. “All I ever do is what you tell me to! I’m a good student, I practice my singing every day, a-and I’ve even been keeping up with tennis! With Yang! So why… I mean, how can you forbid me to see someone you don’t even know? That isn’t fair!”

She could have predicted he would say “Life isn’t fair” before he even formed the words, and was only further angered to hear him say them after all.

“So what?! That doesn’t mean you have to be unfair along with it!”

Jacques Schnee shot to his feet and snatched up her bicep, jerking her forcibly toward him with an iron grip. His cold eyes stabbed down into her own and her heart stopped beating to see his barely-concealed rage.

“You will stop speaking to me in this manner, and you still stop associating with the Chinese girl. My decision is final. If you continue to disobey me, there will be further consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“No.”

“Try that again,” he growled, shaking her arm.

She didn’t know why she said it. Her father had already proven he had no interest in what she had to say at all. Perhaps it was the fact that Yang had become a lot more important to her than she ever thought possible, and that connection was too precious to be severed for no reason other than Yang’s race and the fact that she wore a leather jacket. Something within her was glowing white-hot and could not be cooled down until it burned something else.

“Or what? You’re going to hit me? Again? Like you hit mother when you think we’re not looking? Like she hits Whitley when he smarts off? Is that just what this family does? It’s pathetic! You are pathetic!”

His eyes flicked to her scar, and Weiss felt the dark thrill of a very unsatisfying triumph. A rough shove sent her falling against the couch, grasping at the arm to keep from winding up in the floor.

“I knew it was a mistake to entrust my company’s future to a woman. You never see the bigger picture. Whitley may be a low-grade moron, but at least he understands loyalty. All you care about is your sock hops and giggling with the girls - now including some foreign wok-woman. Squandering your potential. There’s too much of your mother in you.”

“I don’t care,” she lied as the tears began. How desperately she wished they wouldn’t.

“You will. When I’m disciplining you until you straighten up and act in a way befitting the Schnee name, you’ll care.” Smoothing the front of his suit, which had barely been disturbed at all by shoving his daughter, he grunted, “Get up and stop that blubbering.”

Weiss obeyed. Back straight, she stared him down, even as her cheeks glistened.

“Better. Now, you will sever all contact with the ruffian girl, and you will focus on your studies. Is that clear?”

“It’s clear.”

“Do you promise to obey me?”

Teeth clenched, she hissed, “Never.” His hand came down hard across her face. “AH!”

“Do you promise to obey me?!”

Furious in a way she didn’t know she could be, Weiss turned and screamed, “NEVER! I’ll never obey! You can slap me, you can kick me, y-you can chop me into pieces and feed me to the birds! I don’t care! I’m never going to let you tell me who I can and can’t be friends with, EVER!”

For a long moment, he regarded her and the angry red throbbing on her cheek. His face was completely impassive, even though he was breathing hard. Then he turned to stare into the unlit fireplace.

“That’s ‘with whom I can and can’t be friends’. Clearly, she’s already having a detrimental effect on your grammar.” The sigh was weary, as if this were nothing more than a tedious board meeting. “Very well. I’ll take care of the matter myself. And don’t think there won’t be further consequences.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“You’ll see.” Turning back, he glared down at her. “You are dismissed. Go and study. Do something useful for a change.”

After a few seconds of huffing and puffing, Weiss managed to growl out “I hate you!” before she fled from the room and stomped upstairs.

She had fully intended on going to her room. Pyrrha was probably worried about the screaming, if she hadn’t somehow missed all the noise. Halfway there, she changed direction and burst into the drawing room, fists vibrating at her sides.

“MOTHER!”

Willow Schnee was draped over the piano bench, an empty bottle of red wine dangling in her loose grip. This was sadly a standard state of being for the woman; it had been for many years. Weiss had some hazy memories of a glamourous woman who didn’t fall to pieces so often, who could resist the pull of strong spirits. Hazy, distant, and with no impact on the present day.

“Wha…?”

Sinking to her knees beside her, Weiss sniffled and whispered, “He hit me again! H-he promised he wouldn’t, and he did, a-and I… Mommy, I need you to come back! Come back to us!”

The skin between the woman’s perfect eyebrows crinkled as she tried to think her way through the fog of alcohol. “Hm?”

“He slapped me! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Oh… no, no he didn’t. He said no more… only me.” She groaned and pushed a hand into her face. “Winter, stop the train, Mommy needs to lie down…”

Of course it was useless. Sighing, she took the bottle and set it aside, then managed to heave her mother to her feet and guide her to the chaise lounge under the window. The setting sun was just starting to pinken the sky, and she thought the view might help.

“Please don’t go,” Mrs. Schnee murmured. “I… want to… you were always so sweet, Weiss…”

“At least you got my name right that time,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Leaning down, she pressed her lips into her mother’s pale forehead. She and Winter looked the most alike, and she definitely had their mother’s gentle eyes. But Weiss had her nominal stature and her angelic singing voice, which were nothing to sneeze at. “Mother?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“Mmm…” Her hand came up to rest on the side of Weiss’s neck. “Love you, too, sweetheart. You’re my little…”

Before she could even finish her sentence, her arm flopped to one side and she began to doze. “Snow Angel,” she finished for her. That was most likely what she had been about to say. Weiss decided to leave her there and simply sneak back out of the room. Compared to that mess, her life was entirely tolerable.

When she regained the safety of her own room, she found Pyrrha twisting the hem of her long poodle skirt in her hands. She looked panicked. Seeing her friend in the doorway, she stood, eyes full of fear as she whispered, “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Edging the door closed, she approached her desk in the corner and rested a hand on her books. “Let’s just… do our homework.”

“Your face…”

“What about it? Am I really that hideous?”

Pyrrha put her hands on her friend’s shoulders and held her fast. “Don’t do that. He… he shouldn’t be allowed to…”

Suddenly, Weiss needed to be alone. She wouldn’t tell Pyrrha to leave, but that didn’t prevent the desire from rising up powerfully within her. The desire to disappear. The desire to be anyone but a Schnee. “Nothing happened. Do you understand?”

“I don’t,” she whispered in a tight voice. “I can’t pretend this away, Weiss.”

“Then try. Try really, really hard.”

Then arms were around her, holding her as close as was possible. Even though she hated herself for it, would have given the entirety of her trust fund away to stem the flow, the tears started pouring forth in earnest. And they didn’t stop for some time.

[npc-says]

Shaela (2/?)

“I don’t trust her.”

“You don’t trust anyone, Arcturus.”

“Yeah, well, especially not her.”

You rolled your eyes at the man you consider to be your best friend. As the stableman’s son, he had grown up at your side and his loyalty to you had never once faltered. He could have been a highly-decorated soldier in one of the nobles’ armies if not for his dragonborn blood. It was a shame, you thought, the prejudice that ran rampant in this country. Then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, to have him close and so willing to help when you needed him. But that was selfish, you knew. You knew that if this world were kinder, he could be so much more.

“Are you sure it’s not for other reasons?” you asked. The question was half-joking, half-earnest. You have not been friends since childhood without getting a glimpse of his feelings. But you cannot say you return the sentiment, and knowing that, he has always kept a respectful distance.

Still, the directness of the question was a jab that seemed to make Arcturus wince. It was not an unfamiliar wound, and he must have known that you had every right to question his motives. He sat silent for a moment, perhaps to search his own feelings and judgment.

“No, that’s not it,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just...I don’t know. She just doesn’t seem all here. With you. I have no doubt that she cares for you,” he clarified hurriedly. “But it’s as if something else calls to her. And it could call her away from you, if it calls loudly and urgently enough.”

“Another woman?”

”No, that’s not it.” He absentmindedly brushed his hand across his bald head in thought. “I can’t place it. Just trust me on this.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I mean...what’s her trade? Her occupation?”

“I never took you to be the type to judge people by their station,” you said pointedly with raised eyebrows. But you were careful about the answer. “A historian. A scholar. She was an underclerk for the Magistrate in Broadison for many years, which I’m sure you know is very prestigious.”

“Uh huh.” Arcturus’s eyes narrowed. He has known you long enough to know when you are hedging on an answer and giving less than a whole-truth. He did not hide his skepticism.

“Okay, she just needs to re-commit to her studies,” you admitted. “She’s had a rough past few years. But I have all of the books and resources she needs to get back on track.”

Arcturus sighed. “That’s not your job, you know. Why are you so determined to fix her?”

“Who said there’s anything that needs to be fixed?” You could feel the defensiveness rising in your voice and took a moment to regather yourself before sighing. “I just...I like her, alright? And I believe in her. She’s smart and her writing reaches people. There’s good in her but she’s just frustrated and doesn’t know how to channel that.”

He didn’t have much to say in response, almost as if his mind was already made up. He turned away from you, and you could not deny the small ache of knowing that two of the people most important to you could not coexist without some discomfort.

“A lot has changed here while we were gone, it seems,” he said with his back to you as he gazed out the open window. The sky was fading into a warm orange as the sun was setting. “She’s learned a lot, you know.” He nodded pointedly at the directly room across the hall. Even through closed doors, you could hear the familiar, sweet laughter that you had missed for months.

“Thank you for keeping her safe,” you said. “You know I don’t want to send her away, but…”

“I know. I understand.” Arcturus understood better than anyone else your responsibilities to the family business. That meant making some sacrifices to...reduce distractions. “But she has done very well and her powers grow. You’ll be very proud when she shows you.”

“I’m sure I will.” You smiled at the thought.

Arcturus paused before turning around to face you.

“Has she met Lex yet?”

//

Having left Arcturus in the library, you retreated to your bedchambers in the adjacent room. You could not help but smile as you watched the half-elf re-dress herself, pulling her arms into the sleeves of a clean shirt and fastening the buttons. The haircut you arranged for her to get had done some good in revealing her face and grey-green eyes.  

“Does this look alright?” she asked, readjusting the shirt collar in the mirror.

With a smile, you stood in front of her at the mirror, realigning her collar to cover a few fresh scars across her clavicle and other stray marks on her neck. “You clean up very nicely,” you laughed. “Being out of the shadows suits you.”

When you took a step back to study her more fully, she managed a shy and somewhat awkward smile.

“Haven’t had to shine up like this since Broadison,” she admitted, wincing almost. “It’s been a while.” She looked at the closed door to your bedchambers and frowned. “Your friend doesn’t like me,” she said.

“Arcturus? He is just...not a friendly person. But he means well and would do anything for me and my family.”

“I know, I just…” She sat back on your bed and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m just a little out of my depth here, you know?” She sighed and took your hands in hers as you stood above her. “I love you. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I don’t belong in this world anymore, and everyone — your father, your mother, and now your friend — they all know I don’t belong.”

At such a confession, of such a showing of vulnerability she had not dared to show before, you sat next to her on the bed, holding her hand still. Here before you was not the assassin who crouched at your window, ready to take your life, determined to steal whatever she could get her hands on. No, here was the woman who would rather give you a book recommendation than kill you, who fell asleep in an armchair next to the fireplace while reading, who held you at night and ensured a safety you hadn’t known before. She was not what anyone around you would have expected or approved of. But she was yours and they would just have to make do with that.

I have already given so much of myself to them, you thought painfully, your eyes drifting to the room across the hall. They must let me have this.

“They are all protective of me,” you admitted, squeezing her hand. “And my family is wrapped up in its name and its honor and our work. I can’t change that about them. Just know that I think you belong here.”

She nodded along at your words, perhaps managed even a small smile, but still said nothing. Her doubts remained.

“But I know whose judgment I trust,” you continued, “and I know she’ll love you as much as I do. Just promise to be on your best behavior, hm?”

“I...you’re going to introduce us?”

“You’ve become an important person to me, and I plan to keep you around as long as you don’t run off.”

“Hah. Fair enough.” Lex paused, considering this for a moment. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, both intently focused and gazing at nothing, and you wished you could pinpoint what she was searching for.

“I know this is...big,” she said, finally meeting your eyes. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Almost as if on cue, there was a knock at your bedchamber doors. It was not Arcturus’s heavy knuckles against the wood, but smaller, more delicate hands.

Unable to wait any longer, you threw the door open as small arms reached up to wrap around your middle. It had been many months too long without her, and she had grown taller than you thought. The ruefulness of your separation and her absence reverberated even now, but the ache receded substantially when you were able to pick her up and gather her in your arms.

The tears brimmed and you shut your eyes tightly as you pressed your face into her hair and held your daughter for the first time in months.

“I missed you,” you murmured into her soft hair, a red so deep it was nearly purple.

“Missed you more, Mom,” she giggled, her arms wrapped around your neck.

“Enid, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”

[yukiwrites]

Polar Opposites, Yet Still In Love

Thanks for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse​! This was so much fun to write I got carried away, heehee! I hope you like it!

Summary: Vaike was regarded as a hero once he came back home after the war, and now he and Miriel are going to live out the rest of their days in his birth home -- a tiny village far from Ylisstol. Miriel still struggles with the matters of the heart, but she does have a very passionate companion to teach her all about love, after all.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

The final battle against Grima, the Dragon of Destruction, had been won by the sacrifice of its counterpart, Robin. Ylisse and every realm of the world were saved by a single person's sacrifice.

Yet, time would not wait for Robin's return for there was much rebuilding to be done -- many soldiers to return home so as to join the reconstruction effort; many families to be reunited after the purging war had been won.

The Shepherds were repurposed: With Chrom's rising to the throne, they would become his eyes and ears all around the realm, becoming a specialized police force, so to say. However, only those whose knightly or marital vows tied them to Ylisse stayed behind the capitol to serve this new task force -- many followed the common soldier's path of returning home to rebuild.

Vaike had been one of those people, alongside his wife Miriel. They rode side by side to the fighter's birth village, a large carriage chock-full of the mage's books and experiments following close behind.

"Ya can't wait ta meet my lil' bros and sisters, Miriel! They're gonna be so surprised when they see that their Teach single-handedly defeated the mighty-feared Grima!" He flexed, letting go of the reins to do so.

Miriel promptly held them herself she sat in front of her husband, over the same horse. She raised her brow, quickly adjusting her thin and perfectly symmetrical glasses. "Has your memory gone awry, Vaike? The one whose sacrifice was the greatest -- AND the most crucial for the outcome of the battle -- was Robin, not you. I wager you 'smashed', as you have reminded me constantly, the heads of a few Risen generals instead."

"Hey! My job was darning important, y'know! I opened the way with my trusty axe," he swirled both hands overhead, as though he carried such weapon. Miriel simply lowered her head so as to dodge the next time he swooped around, "and cleaned it all for my buddies, Chrom and Robin. Might as well have defeated the dragon m'self!"

"I fail to comprehend how such a small act amidst such a busy battle may have contributed to the slaying of our enemy, however I do admit that your words ring a sliver of truth -- it WAS indeed our combined efforts that allowed our leaders to succeed in a task once deemed impossible."

Vaike snapped his fingers, pointing his indexes as his wife. "You got it! I knew you'd come around to understanding my greatness!"

Miriel raised one eyebrow. "Mayhap you did not hear the part whence I said 'OUR combined efforts', my husband. Did the loud sounds of that battle turn you deaf? I shall have a look at it once my laboratory is set up in our new home."

"Yeahhh, about that; it's not gonna be anything 'new', you know?" He scratched the back of his head, promptly ignoring the part about him being deaf. "I'm surprised you actually followed me here to this ass-end of the realm. It's such a small village I don't think we even pay taxes."

"Improbable. The tax collectors are evenly distributed all over the kingdom, and each noble house responsible for the region has to relay the gains back to the Crown. The House managing this area would not miss out on collecting the gold from a village in its dominion, no matter how small." Miriel said categorically, turning her eyes to the barren road ahead, slowly leaning her back on Vaike's bare chest. "Addendum: I would not allow the man my heart apparently chose to leave on his own -- this promise we made," she caressed the ring he had carefully picked for her the day he proposed, "is not so easily broken. Neither are my... feelings, I suppose."

"Heh, look at you, getting all sentimental." He chuckled awkwardly, resting his chin on her head, wrinkling and folding her hat sideways. "Still a long ways to go to understand what's in there though, yeah? Ima teach you, don't worry." He slipped his hand to her waist, which brought warmth to the mage's heart.

Amused at her reaction to such a small action, Miriel placed her hand over his, a tiny smile sprouting at the corners of her lips. "I look forward to it, my husband."

"Damn it, Miriel, you supposed ta say 'Teach'!"

Once close to the slums whence Vaike was born, more and more people began to gather, making the fighter's smile grow with each new spectator.

"Brother Vaike!" A young boy yelled from a distance, "Broo!" Another one followed, his voice being mirrored by dozens others.

"Har har, da's your Teach right 'ere, folks!" He flexed once again, not being able to bear with riding any longer and quickly jumping out of the horse, leaving Miriel to guide it alone. "Look at those muscles! This flex!" He posed while laughing, the people around them yelling in delight.

"Bro!" Many a children jumped to his arms, "you did it, Bro! I knew you could do it!" They usually said as he spun them around, then threw them overhead (Miriel once again noted the invisible force pulling people and objects downwards, but hadn't had time to put it all to paper).

"This one's Yapper, that one's Rits, that over there's Lock, that's Resy," Vaike pointed at each child as they came around, introducing them to Miriel. They were the 'little sisters and brothers' he spoke so fondly of -- siblings of the street, so to speak.

Raised in the slums, they all banded together in order to increase their odds of survivability, creating familial bonds stronger than those of blood, as Miriel herself theorized after hearing the story for the first time. Still, seeing them all first hand, even the 'not in touch with her feelings' Miriel could tell that those people TRULY loved, treasured and looked up to Vaike.

They guided their horse through the streets, pushed their carriage whenever it got stuck in debris and muddy spots, and, most important of all, believed whatever Vaike told them about his overly exaggerated sploits during his years of serving the Shepherds.

They took twice as long to arrive at Vaike’s home -- renovated by the villagers themselves (with the money Vaike sent, of course) -- but once they did, his elderly mother welcomed them with open arms.

The lady could barely stand without the help of a walking crane, her old bones and gentle smile always ready for her son to come back as a hero. “My boy! I knew you could do it…” She said in a trembling voice, inviting her son who was twice her height, to hug her.

He almost crouched to wrap his arms around the fragile lady, making Miriel jump out of the horse hastily in order to be there should he accidentally break a bone or two, though it seemed unnecessary. The moment he placed his arms around the lady, he picked her up, making her sit on top of his forearm. “Ma!! I told ya I’d be back with glory behind me! AND I brought back the best woman I could find -- her name’s Miriel!”

The old lady squinted, extending her arms so as to reach out for Miriel. The mage promptly stepped forward (she put it in the back of her mind to study the reason behind such gesture -- compassion for the elderly, perhaps? Has her heart evolved so that it was already taking actions by itself without her meaning it to?), allowing her mother in law to touch her face. “Is that a beautiful mage I see? Why, Vaike, how’dya net yourself someone so smart looking like that?”

“She ain’t all about looks, ya know? She has brains even in her toes, I wager! Har har!!”

“Unlikely. The brain, as confirmed through many autopsies, is an organ located inside the skull only- ah, you meant that as an exaggeration, did you not?” She fixed her glasses, her face still full of old lady fingers while she narrowed her eyes to her husband.

“Horsefeathers! She speaks so… so well!”

“Mayhap you meant that I am eloquent, mother-in-law. I do have a larger vocabulary than the common person.”

“Oh, dear!” The old lady giggled, patting Miriel’s hat. “I think yer too much for my lil’ hero here, but please, darling… take care of him for me, will ya? The gods know how much I worry.”

Miriel felt a pang inside her heart, her eyes suddenly flickering with emotion. “How very interesting… It seems that I do know the answer for that, Vaike.” She referred to her husband despite looking at her mother in law, catching his smirk growing with the corner of her eyes.

“Ya’ve always been a fast learner. Go on, say it.” He encouraged, gesturing with his chin.

“Thank you for entrusting your son to me, Mother-in-law. I am the one always learning with him, despite all evidence to the contrary -- he is teaching me the matters of the heart. He is incapable of learning the matters of the brain, however his potential for following his emotions is bottomless.”

Vaike frowned, adjusting his mother on his arms. “Hey! Say it properly! You’re only saying bad-”

“Hush, my husband,” Miriel smiled so softly it brought a flush of red through Vaike’s cheeks. “I only meant to say that I love your son, my lady. Wholeheartedly.”

“Oh, my dear…” The lady covered her face with both hands, quickly wrapping them around Miriel’s neck. “May you two complement each other, always.”

[squidproquoclarice]

I really love the input of Sunset Over The Red Sage from one Leslie Dupont (aka Mary-Beth). I’m assuming Arthur and Sadie will still cross paths with her at some point since our published writer here needed some more inspiration for the next part of her book where Sophie saves Adam. I wonder how would the two react when they basically read Mary-Beth’s version of their own love story XD

Mary-Beth writing deliciously soapy purple Edwardian romances is really too good to pass up.  I absolutely adore her success as Leslie Dupont.  Her first book, published in 1900, was “Castaway Hearts”, which is what she was writing in her journal while with the gang, and was mostly finished when she left Beaver Hollow.  Think of it as a delightfully trashy Robinson and Ramona Crusoe story.  ;)“Sunset Over The Red Sage” was next, and this is the book that really launches her career as Leslie Dupont.  A lot of things are different from the in-game narrative.  Adam’s TB shows up a lot earlier than Arthur’s, for example, and I’m sure it’s not tied to a debt collection given Arthur never told Mary-Beth about that.  And she obviously had to change a lot of events so as not to make it obvious to readers--and Pinkertons--that she had inside knowledge of the Van Der Linde Gang.  But Arthur’s not wrong in thinking that was kind of Mary-Beth’s therapy and way of working through everything that happened with the gang in 1899.For the record, since Sadie didn’t get there yet, the end of Red Sage is Adam and Sophie confronting Michael and Daniel and their minions, and telling James, Jim, and Annabeth this is their chance to run.  The latter three hear a flurry of gunshots behind them as they escape the desert fort where the gang had been hiding, and it’s pretty clear that the reader should assume Adam and Sophie have both been killed in a noble sacrifice. James reminds Annabeth: “Adam told us to go with his blessing and never look back.  Oh, my brother, that brave man, to struggle so against that dreaded disease, and then to use the last of his mortal strength for us.  Faithful, courageous Sophie too, now reunited with her beloved Joe!  Their lives have bought us our freedom and I shall never forget it.”  Annabeth sheds a tear, then nods in determination, hugs Jim tighter, and they ride westward into a new life. And yeah, Mary-Beth will have to meet up with Sadie and Arthur at some point given “Dawn Over The Desert Sage” will happen with Sophie helping nurse Adam back to health, and their falling in love.Given their reading “Red Sage” is probably by turns painful and touching and funny, “Desert Sage” is going to be pure sometimes-awkward fun in comparison.  They’ll be very honored that Mary-Beth decided to undo the tragic ending of “Red Sage” and give them a happy life, but I imagine them enjoying reading it out loud to each other in the evenings, and having a lot of good-natured giggling at how different Adam and Sophie’s story probably is from the reality they lived.  There’ll also be a bit of “Hope they’re OK” about John, Abigail, and Jack since Mary-Beth will likely write Adam, Sophie, James, and Annabeth meeting again too.

[shelivesinthewoods]

The Apple (Sinclaire x MC)

Desire and Decorum Mr. Sinclaire x MC (Isabel Fairfield)

Word count: 1600

Rating: fluff - g

Tagging: @katurrade & @tinygooplandroad & @choices-september-challenge

I think this also will fall into the category for the September 5 Challenge of ‘Fight’ hosted by @i-dream-so-i-write

As we all know, I own nothing, I’m just borrowing Pixelberrys lovely characters for a few moments! 😊

Isabel Fairfield; the lady of Edgewater; was getting very tired. As a child growing up, the Gentry seemed like everything a young woman could want. Beautiful clothes, intriguing companions, the best of entertainment. That naive girl could not have been more wrong. She had nailed it on the head at the first dinner party of the London season, when she had followed Mr. Sinclaire outside. That he should not have been surprised by their turning his deceased wife into gossip. If only she had known just how right she was. She could have taken the opportunity to run. Oh no, not that she would have. No, Isabel was nothing if not a fighter. Currently the best way to fight the battle was with a sharp smile and an even sharper flip of her fan. The problem was, her weapons were becoming more difficult to wield without the sharpness becoming evident.

There were a few at these gatherings whom she truly did enjoy; Annabelle Parsons had become a very dear friend and confidante. She and Briar were the two whom she could truly speak her mind. Both knew her deepest secrets, wishes and concerns. Two she trusted with everything thst made her who she was. She had a developed a special fondness for both her stepbrother, Mr. Marlcaster as well as Miss Sutton. Edmund had been placed into a bad situation when Isabel had come to Edgewater. His mother had instantly hated her and expected he and his fiancée to do the same. Since she’d known him, she’d done nothing but attempt to be kind... and he’d started to actually talk to her. About Harry, about his concerns about Edgewater and how it made the insecurities he already had worse— that if it weren’t for his mother, he would be happy to let her have it.

In point of fact, she was, at this particular dinner party, chatting cordially with him. Edmund had started out very bland with her, but actually had a surprising wit when he was allowed (or chose) to show it. It had been a very pleasant surprise. “Your dearest friend, Miss Holloway is glaring daggers at you.”

Isabel smirked, as she settled her fan on her lap, “You mean that isn’t how she treats everyone? I must be special in some way.”

Mr. Marlcaster returned her look with a half smile of his own, “I’ve only ever seen her treat *you* that way, but then, never have I seen anyone catch Mr. Sinclaire’s attention as you have.”

Unintentionally, Isabel’s eyes swept the room at his name; silently seeking him out in the cluster of people. Unsurprisingly, he was in the group the Viscount Westonly was a part of— what was surprising was that instead of listening to the nobles story, his gaze was on her. She supposed Miss Holloway’s glare was slightly more understandable now. She felt her cheeks heat as she gave him a small closed lip smile. He had the propensity to make her feel like the girl she was before. Bashful, flustered, beautiful. The things a man should be able to conjure within a woman. The small smile grew to a smirk as her attention came back to the fan perched on her lap. She lifted it, opening it half way, over her face, indicating ‘we are being watched over.’ She looked toward Miss Holloway who was now, watching him. Nodding once, he returned his attention to whatever it was the Viscount had been saying.

“It appears he has garnered yours as well.” Edmund mused, chuckling low in his throat when her attention snapped back to him guiltily. “Mr. Sinclaire has always been a polite, quiet man, Isabel, but I have never seen him show the same regard for someone as I have for you... I was present when he courted Lady Adelia. Even then.”

Her thoughts turned hopeful, as while he hadn’t made his intentions clear, Isabel had grown very fond of the seemingly grumpy man. He had shown her kindness and a self depreciating sense of humor and a thirst for doing what he felt was right. He had defended her, befriended her. Maybe one day...

Her pleasant thought was cut off by Miss Holloway laughing loudly, saying, “By all means, I would never say a bad word about her, but her mother was an clearly unscrupulous tart. One must simply pity her for growing and being raised in that way. Though, I will presume the apple is unlikely to grow far from the tree.” Her voice carried over the low music. Over the din of voices conversing around them. Everything stopped for a long moment.

Isabel’s eyebrows had arched, her lips pulled into an unpleasant line, her teeth locked. Edmund, directly in front of her looked concerned. “Isabel—“ he started as she stood, turning on her heel, her left hand curled into a fist. Their snide insinuations, she could handle. An outright insult to her departed mother was entirely too much. The woman had followed her heart. Followed love. Given up everything for her father— for her. To have that sacrifice treated as an insult... she could not.

In that moment, everything was hazed in red, until someone stepped in front of her. A hand at the base of her back, the other on one elbow, “Lady Isabel, a moment?” She faltered a moment. Stopped. Had to think a moment because she wanted nothing more than to lash out at someone. *He* didn’t deserve it.

Her voice was rough when she finally got out, “Pardon me a moment, it feels a bit warm in here.” She turned almost on her heel as she strode to the door. She over heard a height tittering giggle, from Miss Holloway.

She had pulled the door shut behind her, having only thought to get away; but she believed she heard someone starting to say, “How dare you?”

On the balcony, the put her hands on the railing, wrapping her hands around until her fingernails bit into her palms. The door closed a second time. She was taking deliberately slow deep breaths, unconvinced she would be able to say anything civil, let alone kind. Two more deep breaths, then, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” She said softly.

“You are doing a fine job, Lady Isabel. Pay no mind to what the likes of Miss Holloway says.”

“Says the man who also gets angry when the dead are brought up.”

“That is... That is a well made point. You have shown me though; fight them with your actions, Isabel, not with violence or words. You are wiser than you should be allowed at your age. Don’t let her twist you into someone that you are not. You’ve brought about change. Those like her are afraid of it.”

“Stop it.” She replied shortly, “I know my worth to those people. Three months before now and none of them would have looked twice at me, much less given me the time of day. Yourself included.”

“That’s possibly true of them. I cannot say the same for myself, I nearly stopped in Grovershire that first day. You were lovely; and I was quite smitten even then. You are changing us. It was your stepbrother who stood for you in there. Do you believe he would have dared if you hadn’t fought for his friendship? His respect? This seems unlike you.”

She frowned, but her shoulders relaxed a little. “I can’t stand it when they talk that way about her. She always did her best by me. She tried *so* hard, Ernest.”

“If she was half the fighter you are, I imagine she was a force to be reckoned with.” He paused, “I believe that is the first time you’ve called me by my given name.” One of her hands went to her mouth in shock, “Finally.” He stepped closer to her, and cautiously pressed a gentle chaste kiss to her forehead, but let his lips rest there a moment as he murmured, “You have done fine here. Please don’t give up. I—um— we— could t bear it if you left.”

She sighed, nodding once as he backed away, “You’re right. I can do this. You’ll help me?”

“Always.”

“Alright, so first... which of us gets to be the one tell her the turn of phrase is ‘the apple doesn’t *fall* far from the tree?’”