#anyone else desperately want to give these jesters your last name???

[kaprisvn]

Last Names

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"KAPRI YOU CAN'T POST THE AFTER STORY FOR CHASING STARS YOU HAVEN'T EVEN POSTED THE FIRST CHAPTERS YET!!!"

🤫🙂‍��️

This comic is kinda shitty but you get the point XD

Bonus clothed CS Moon!

[icicleteeth]

So I wrote a tiny ESO AU with @your-holy-mountain​ ‘s Finn and my dunmer Servyn for the laffs and because I got emotional about Finn being a good friend because Tii is a good friend of mine enjoy the trash under the cut...

(Disclaimer though, this isn’t going to be super well written at all, as it’s just an off the cuff little ficlet alsjfdj)

The early morning rabble of Mournhold’s central trading plaza sings with the hustling and bustling of a city which never sleeps nor rests--men, mer, beast, automata, and sometimes tamed daedra fill the streets in a near shoulder to shoulder crowd, all of which with important work for important people to attend to, though none of which called themselves nor anyone else by their real names, as such work wasn’t so important as to interrupt the annual weekly celebration of the Jester’s Festival--an honored holiday amongst all of Tamriel where Khajiiti named Kitty Kitty Bang Bang and Bosmer named Big Meat Indulgence address eachother as such unabashedly, as if it were completely normal and expected to do so.

Servyn wished he could join in on such festivities. He quite hated his name and would usually revel in any excuse to change it (even if temporarily)...but there wasn’t much use in changing one’s name when said one is a street Dunmer. He never had any reason to give anyone his real name, let alone a silly made up one. Most just called him Beggar. He supposed “Beggar” was a better name than “Servyn”, but it would feel odd to share the same name as every other beggar in Mournhold (of which there were many). 

He lies curled up on the ground against the blacksmith’s plaza. Many filter in and out without noticing him much, though this particular spot gave a perfect view of the city’s wayshrine, where those coming in from all over Tamriel will inevitably see him, as the blacksmith’s is right across from the shrine’s entryway. Servyn looks to his tattered cap a few feet away, and makes a heartless effort to reach for it without having to get up (this being for a lack of motivation, he tells himself. Not because he doesn’t trust his legs to give out the moment he tries to use them). He’s able to brush the tip of it, but gives up trying to check it. Probably no coins in there anyway. At least watching the large guild stores haggle with passing knights and mages and trading goods he could never hope to behold in his life brought him some amusement. The aforementioned humorous names exchanged while doing so helped a bit, too.

Something was sniffing--a breathy heavy sniffing--at him. Servyn had managed to shift between laying on his side facing the streets to instead face the wall some time ago, which he’d done so when watching a trader present a whole roasted bantam guar became too much to handle. This seemed like a good idea at the time, though it meant he couldn’t see what was currently invading his personal space; not that this was too unusual. Street animals were just as numerous as street mer, and even they weren’t desperate enough to gobble up filthy urchins with hardly any meat on their bones. Just let it happen and it’ll go away. 

“What’s that you found, Dandelion?”

At the sound of a man’s voice close behind him, Servyn twitches and sweats. Okay, so it isn’t a nix hound. That’s fine. Right? He’ll take one look at me, reel back in repulsion for a few seconds, and let me go--

Before he’s able to finish that thought, he’s suddenly off the ground, for whatever was sniffing at him decided to pick him up and carry him by his shirt. The first thing he sees is the large bear paws--bear paws!--shuffling below him on the ground. The second thing he sees is an even larger Breton man in a black tunic and huge muscles adorned with intricate tattoos standing before him.

This is it, then! This is where I die, right here and right now! Be it by the hands of a strongman or in the belly of a bear...or both! All he could muster is quick desperate breathing, for it was useless to cry for a guard. They wouldn’t care to see a beggar go, anyway.

As expected, the Breton reels back with a look of surprise--though this surprise doesn’t seem like one of disgust.

“Wow! You found a baby grampa, Dandie! Amazing!”

Grampa? He was hardly past his early twenties! Not that he was offended by the mixup--his hair is naturally white, and the unkempt nature of his facial hair could certainly fool anyone into thinking he was an old man. The uncontrollable shaking in fear surely ought to tell the man he was far from a grizzled elder. Now you’re just giving him more reason to see you as easy prey!

“Oh, but will you please let him go, Dandie? Most people don’t like being held by a bear’s maw--I know, I don’t get it either. But it is what it is!”

Just as commanded, the bear releases Servyn, who falls to the ground like dead weight. Were it not for his still raspy and frantic breathing, one could easily assume he were already dead.

“Sorry about that, little elf! Dandie likes magical things, because she’s magical too! But that means you’re magical, right?” 

Not really. He may know a good deal more magic than the average street rat, but it was only simple magic he picked up from beginner’s spell books in the public library. He likely paled in comparison to the city’s many wizards and Telvanni mages. Surely this adventurous looking man has seen a good number of better mages to gawk at.

“Finnegan Stormborne, at your service!” he bows, and squeaks “and Dandelion, at yours as well!” in his best (and frankly impressive) falsetto. The bear still seemed uncomfortably interested in Servyn, but he was powerless to run away. He didn’t want to talk to the stranger, but decided maybe if he engaged in small talk with the man, then he may be generous enough to not let his bear tear him to shreds.

“Is...that your Jester’s name, sera?”

The Breton blinks, though is silent for only a moment before bursting into hearty laughter.

“Ha! I could never be a real jester, no. They’re funny on purpose, you see.”

“I...do?” The intentions of the Breton named Finnegan were lost on him. It didn’t seem like information--which was good, because Servyn wasn’t like the other beggars in that way. It didn’t seem like he simply wanted an easy target to bully, as he hasn’t done so--yet. It couldn’t be money, because surely the last place you’d look for extra gold is--

“Say, you dropped your hat!” 

Oh. Maybe it is money after all. Servyn doubted anything was in it anyway, but on the off chance there was...well. He supposed it wasn’t the first time he’d resigned himself to another night of sleeping hungry, though he didn’t have much time to lament about this, as he feels something placed on his head, and a handful of coins presented to him.

“These were inside it, too. Best hide ‘em, you never know when the gold-eating rats decide to come out...”

The what?

With great effort, Servyn sits up to better address Finnegan (though slightly wilting at the man’s towering height).

“There are no gold-eating rats here, sera. Or anywhere...at least, I don’t think so...” He cuts his own sentence off quickly, fearing the man would snap at him for talking back.

“Oh! That’s just what I call tax collectors. But eh, what does sera mean, by the by? Do you mean to say “serenade”? Cus I’m always in the mood for a song, and I don’t do so well, being tempted with a good time!”

Now it’s Servyn’s turn to blink. Finn, on other hand, seems jovial as a drunken Nord.

“Yeah, you know what? What do you say to a night in, Dandelion? I’ll get you a good roast, sing some songs...hey! Why don’t you join us, Dunmer? Dandie seems to really like you!”

Now the Breton must really be out of his mind. Him? In a tavern? With other people, who will probably sneer at the presence of a vagrant in their establishment? Alongside a stranger, no less!? The worst part was said stranger seemed genuine in his offer--but it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t go. He can’t go.

“Erm! I’d be happy to join you, Sir Finnegan, but my legs aren’t very strong, and I don’t think I will be able to stand...nor do I think tavern patrons would stand me, if you understand what I’m saying. You’d best be off on your own, the local tavern is that way--”

In an instant, Servyn, for the second time, is lifted off the ground; this time in the rock-hard muscular arms of Finnegan (a feat not difficult for him at all, as Servyn’s meager height of under five feet tall and malnourished frame required no more effort to lift than a sack of potatoes). This time he does yelp, though it comes out more akin to a frightened squeak.

“If that’s all that’s stopping you, then I can help with that! By the way, you can call me Finn. Now, where’d you say the nearest tavern was? That way? Come on, Dandelion!”

Servyn wasn’t sure which was worse: watching Finn dance the Lava Foot Shuffle directly on the Flaming Nix Inn’s hot coal stove, or watching Dandelion gnaw at roasted salmon. Neither one helped calm the frantic anxiety for his new friend‘s wellbeing...or the ravenous appetite of his long-unfed stomach. Finn notices this, and hops off the coals for a moment.

“Hey, are you alright? If you tell me your name, I can sing a song about you!”

In truth, Servyn wasn’t really paying attention to Finn. In an attempt to look somewhere else, his eyes ended up settling on the large cauldron of duck soup cooking behind the innkeeper’s counter. He didn’t notice the bit of drool escaping his mouth, but Finn does, with a sad “Oh.”

Before Servyn knew it, a bowl is presented to him, with Finn kneeling down a bit to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, friend. I should’ve known you must be famished, being on the streets and all. Do you like this stuff?”

Were Servyn in a different position, he’d beat himself up for such rudeness, as he didn’t wait to ask before taking the bowl from Finn’s hands without a single word and wolfing the soup down in a hunched up ball on the bench. Finn, however, is more than happy to let his friend be, and return to his dancing, only turning around to say: “I paid the chef for as many bowls as you want, so don’t be shy if you want more!”

Three bowls and an unceremonious belch later, Servyn lies sleepily against Dandelion, who situated herself behind the mer and quite enjoys acting as a large fluffy pillow while she dozes a bit herself. Finn, in his never-ending zeal, still happily dances amongst the coals whilst singing a new song about a Nordic king in a far-off kingdom. However, once noticing his ursine companion give a big toothy yawn, he stops singing.

“Ah, suppose you’re right, Dandie. It’s getting late. Hey innkeep! I’ll have two rooms for the night, put it on my tab, will you?” He makes to leap gracefully off the coals, but trips on a particularly odd-shaped stone and falls with a thud and a nonchalant “Ow.” Servyn perks up, immediately worried for Finn, and is not calmed down despite the Breton getting up easily and without distress.

“The second room I bought is for you, Dunmer. You don’t have to take it, but I thought it’d be better than going back to the streets. It’s no big expense on me, either way.”

There wasn’t time to worry about that right now. Struggling to get up, Servyn manages to stand, though with wobbly legs and a belly that felt much heavier than he was used to.

“Sir Finn, your arm..!” He points to a raw patch of skin which endured direct contact with the coals, and is now a large splotch of pink. Finn shrugs.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I’ll take care of it later. But you look exhausted, friend. I can carry you to your room, if you’d like. Or the streets, I guess...if that’s what you want...”

Without thinking, Servyn trudges over to Finn, half of his energy focused on not collapsing, and the other half dedicated to channeling a healing spell. He all but collapses into Finn’s arms, but is able to cast the spell on the burned skin, and watches with relief as it mends right before his eyes--and Finn’s who stares in awe.

“Say, I knew you were magical! My arm feels good as new!” He hugs Servyn a bit tighter than he’d like, but thankfully the man has enough foresight to not put his usual effort into the embrace. He now cradles his friend, who looks to the floor sheepishly.

“It was just a simple spell, and was the least I could do, given the kindness you’ve shown me...” 

“Simple? I’d say that’s a real talent you have there! Have you tried joining the local Mages Guild? I bet they’d love to have you!”

Of course not. Someplace as prestigious as a guild would turn him away the moment they saw him, with his dirty untamed hair and filthy ragged tunic and patchwork pants. Finn was the weird one for not doing the same. Why didn’t he do the same?

Knowing he expects and answer, Servyn simply shakes his head. Finn makes his way up the stairs, still with the mer in tow, who doesn’t object or ask to be taken back to the streets.

“You should! I work for them sometimes. Sort of. I find these weird books all over the place that they’re interested in, but lots of mages are real stuck up. They complain and say things like “Finnegan, why is it covered in swamp stains?” Maybe because I found it in a swamp! You wouldn’t care if I gave you a book I found in a swamp, right?”

Servyn once again shakes his head, and mutters “a book is a book, sera. It’s not your fault it happened to end up in a swamp.”

“Right!? See, you understand, and I bet you would call me Finn instead of Finnegan. Mages do that to sound regal, but it’s too formal for me! Wish I had a friend in the guild who wasn’t so stuck up...like you!”

They reach a door. Finn pushes it open with his shoulders, and lays Servyn on the single bed. He blushes a bit--at the softness of the mattress and blankets so foreign and long forgotten after years of sleeping rough, and at the seemingly never-ending kindness of the Breton man.

“I’ve got to tuck Dandelion in now, but I’m in the room just across from yours. You can knock if you need me.”

Finn turns around, but before he’s able to leave the room, a soft voice interrupts him.

“S-Servyn! My name is Servyn. So you know who to...um, send the bill to. I don’t know when I can pay it back but--”

“Servyn, eh? I like it! Now I know exactly how to introduce you to the Magister! This is fantastic! Thanks for telling me, Servyn. But I’ll let you sleep now, okay? We’ll need all our strength for tomorrow, after all!”

The door clicks shut before Servyn is able to retort back. He isn’t sure whether he’s decided to give up on understanding Finn or understanding why he let the Breton sweep him up into a tavern room to begin with--all he knew was he was tired, much so that he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He could hear the man from the hallway baby-talking (presumedly to his bear) but didn’t feel at all annoyed by this break in silence. Finn’s voice truly exude a warmth so rarely heard, even from the kindest Temple priests. Servyn couldn’t bring himself to complain, and felt odly...okay with him knowing his true name, and he knowing Finn’s, and this sickeningly sweet okay-ness that he never thought he’d ever feel again lulls him into a gentle sleep. 

But if anyone else asks, my name is Captain Sujamma Guzzler.

[alltheangstmygifttoyou]

Soulmate AU Part 5

A/N: I am tired and I want this story out here and the parts are going to get longer from now on I think. But finally we get to meet Noah! My son, baby boy! Also a little bitch. Tumblr makes me sad because it took away all my formatting so I’m going through and fixing that. Hope I don’t miss anything.

Summery: The boys and Elena find Noah and introduce him to Jester. 

Word Count: 4624

TW: violence, homophobia, manipulation, child abuse, bullying

Jester should have known not to tell Malcolm anything about her soulmate, because now he kept bringing him up, trying to get every detail he could so he could use them against her. She was tight-lipped about it all, but Jesse wasn’t and told Malcolm everything he knew, which thankfully was very little. Jesse hadn’t even found out from Jester that her soulmate stopped talking to her, she used to avoid the topic with him as much as possible. However now that had changed it shouldn’t be a surprise that they were using it against her. She hadn’t thought it would bother her much, but thinking about her soulmate so much opened a bag of worms she had avoided touching for years. For one, she never did learn why Noah had to stop writing, some days she wondered if he was dead. She didn’t dare write back in case he was alive and still in danger, but there were many days she almost wished he was dead. So much of her life was controlled, it’d be nice if she could pick who she would be with. People were more forgiving of widowed soulmates getting together for comfort. But that thought always made guilt soar through her. Then again that wasn’t the only guilt that came when she thought of Noah. Jester had never been allowed to be in a relationship that wasn’t with her soulmate, but that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about it. It was hard to imagine being with Noah since they had still been young when they talked. There was a problem when she found herself attracted to others though, they were both boys and girls. It didn’t help that she had one main crush that she managed to keep to herself, if anyone found out she was positive Father would kill her, no exaggeration. However that didn’t stop her relishing the moments when Elena Taski brushed fingertips with her, or how she sometimes day dreamed about Elena rescuing Jester from her Father’s beating only to carry her bridal style away to a new home. Her crush on the girl didn’t make much sense, she knew that. She constantly tossed insults at Elena, ones she knew would bother her the most, and Elena did the same with her. Elena had burned her multiple times for crossing the line with insults. Elena worked with Malcolm, and both of them hated Jester. But, no matter how pathetic it was, they were the only people to interact with Jester on a daily basis. The fact that she day dreamed about Elena more than Noah always managed to make Jester feel like the worst scum. She should be trying to imagine what he looks like, dreaming up ways to rescue him. She supposed Jesse was right about her, she really was just horribly selfish.

The guilt ate at Jester, and the small comments from Malcolm weren’t helping. She found herself growing shorter with the muscular boy everyday, snapping back with insults that were much too scathing for the situation. What made it worse was that Malcolm could tell he was getting to her, he had improved on brushing off what she said to take pride in that he was upsetting her. He mentioned Noah more often and by name. He kept trying to bother her for his last name claiming that he was going to find him and tell him what a bitch his soulmate was. Elena was helping him, she sometimes saw her going up to random boys asking their names and if they knew anyone named Noah. She overheard Jesse casually toss the name out to his friends. It all came to a head in chemistry, she managed to have class with all three of them at the same time. She sat at a table in the back by herself, she used to sit next to Jesse but after a fight where he claimed he hated her the teacher had her move back. She could do labs by herself just fine anyway. 

The little trio came in together, Malcolm and Jesse with wide smiles and Elena with a little frown. They dragged a tall but skinny boy behind them. He had light blonde hair that barely would go behind his ears and the lightest green eyes Jester had ever seen. He was shaking in Jesse’s grip. Jester’s eyes narrowed and she didn’t bother to smile, she had a feeling that they had found Noah, or at least thought they did.

“Guess who we found Jester? One Noah Treviti at your service!” Jesse announced before pushing the boy towards her. He tripped and fell at her feet. He was even smaller than she first thought. Elena’s frown deepened and she helped the poor boy up. Jester supposed Jesse expected some sort of reaction out of her, a declaration of longing or maybe anger, perhaps he had just been hoping to get a witty remark. She didn’t give any of it to him. She just watched and waited, eventually the supposed Noah would speak for himself and be proven true or false. She’d deal with it then. Jesse frowned and pulled out a pen. He went over and gripped Noah’s arm tight enough that he winced and pulled the long light blue sleeves up and drew a line on his skin. Immediately Jester’s skin tingled and she didn’t have to look down to know that there was a line on her arm too. She still refused to give Jesse the satisfaction of a reaction, instead paying attention to Noah, who was panicking in Jesse’s grip. He was pulling away from Jesse and breathing heavily. Elena had a hand on his shoulder that he was leaning away from. “What is it, cat got your tongue?”

“You’re hurting him,” Jester answered, feeling a protective fire burn in her stomach. Noah had a hard life, he was in a dangerous situation, he listened to her when no one else did, he didn’t deserve this. Jesse scowled and let go of Noah’s arm. Malcolm stepped in front of Jesse, clearly giving Jesse a glare before looking at Jester with a malicious smirk.

“Noah told us why he stopped writing to you--”

“Then let him tell me Lockhart. I don’t care about anything you have to say.” Jester responded coolly before he could finish. Malcolm frowned and looked back towards Noah, who had frozen like a deer in the headlights. There were definite tears in his eyes. His mouth opened to speak but no words came out. Jester felt her heart break slightly, he was definitely scared of her.

“You can just shake your head yes or no if you want and I’ll ask questions, is that okay?” He nodded, Jesse watched with a frown while Malcolm seemed to be contemplating something. Elena still just had that little frown. “Was there a dangerous situation?” He nodded his head, Jesse opened his mouth to say something but Malcolm put a hand on his shoulder. “Is that situation still a problem?” He nodded once again, he had started to rock back and forth with his back. “Would I think it’s a problem?” He didn’t answer right away and she bit her cheek to stop from expressing. He shook his head slowly and looked down. “Did you stop writing to me after you discovered your power?” He looked up at her wide eyed as did the others before nodding his head. “Do you want to be friends again?” Once again he took a while to answer before slowly shaking his head no. She felt like she was going to throw up, but her face stayed the same. “Is it because of me?” He nodded and a tear fell down his face. She clapped her hands together startling them. “Well thanks for the introduction everyone but this poor boy clearly doesn’t want to be near me so why don’t you take him away.” She smiled though her cheeks ached, it ached in rhythm with her chest. This must have been her punishment for her selfish thoughts.

“Aren’t you going to insult him, yell at him, give him the soulmate speech?” Jesse asked, pulling away from Malcolm’s touch. Jester shrugged, raising her eyebrows.

“I mean he has a legit reason to hate me, unlike you with Malcolm, so no. If he doesn’t want to be around me then I sure as hell won’t make him.” Jester explained and Jesse ground his teeth. Mr. Workshire instructed everyone to head to their seats though so Jesse didn’t say anything, just stormed off to the second row. Malcolm and Elena went to their seats two rows in front of Jester and Noah went to the other side of the room one up on her left. He had been that close to her the entire time, and she had never noticed. She didn’t do the lab that day, nor did she take any notes. She just casually looked at Noah from time to time trying to engrain his features into her mind. This was her soulmate, a tall skinny anxious boy, and he wanted nothing to do with her. She must have talked to him before, but he definitely had been one of the ones where they didn’t have a long conversation about powers. If he was scared of his power that probably put him in section fifteen, and she was supposed to know every (now) fifth year students’ powers and below, but she definitely didn’t remember him. If she had gone to the records room to find out his power then she would have known he was her soulmate, but she didn’t know, and she didn’t know his power.

Class was over before Jester had gotten far in contemplation and she stayed seated as everyone else got up. She watched Noah as he pressed his notebook into his chest and hunched slightly as he tried to get out quickly while avoiding everyone else. Jesse practically stomped out, probably disappointed he hadn’t managed to upset her. He seemed more desperate to do that lately. The whole Malcolm reveal must have gotten inside his head. Malcolm took his time to walk out, and Elena stood patiently by his side. Neither were talking, she hadn’t heard Malcolm’s boisterous laugh all of class. She wondered if they would ever realize that she had probably as much training as Elena did on controlling her emotions. Her face was a tool at her disposal, not something that did whatever it wanted. Once everyone was out of the classroom Jester walked slowly out, Mr. Workshire watching her the entire time. She wondered if he had been listening to their conversation before class started. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t said anything to her about doing the work. Most teachers didn’t like her, they knew her reputation as a bully but also didn’t have any evidence besides student complaints. However most people didn’t pay attention, and it was their word against hers, so the school did nothing. It helped that Jester was part of a prestigious family, and that most of the complainers were fellow students from section fifteen. No one in the faculty wanted to deal with section fifteen students. Things just stayed the same, warnings were given, but that was all. Jester, despite never taking notes, was a straight A student who always got the work done. Some teachers had accused her of cheating but even if she took the tests isolated she was fine. Quinn’s were supposed to be smart, so Jester was. If that meant she pulled all nighters studying sometimes no one would know with some extra makeup. She didn’t need to take notes in class because half the time she had already written it down studying in her room. Not taking notes gave her more time to pay attention to her classmates. 

Jester felt like she was floating through the rest of her school day, everything was on autopilot. By the time dinner came around she didn’t even know when she had gotten into the commons. But she had eaten half of a soft slightly burnt slab of meatloaf and called it good. She walked the crowded halls until they got dingier and darker. Almost no one hung around the section fifteen area, not even the janitors. The only people who really did were people looking to ambush others, and it was just Jester’s luck that a certain redhead and her best friend were waiting for her. Jester grimaced when she saw them but Malcolm put his hands up in surrender. His palms were much paler than the rest of his skin, a fact that Jester had managed to never notice before. She didn’t change her expression.

“We’re not here to pick a fight, we just want to know what you did to Noah to make him so scared.” Malcolm said slowly, he put his hands down to his side. Jester forced herself to smile although it drained more energy than it should have.

“To him? Nothing, didn’t know who he was in person until today.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulder as she spoke, getting ready to play a little game with him. He would be confused and she would give him the simple truth and he wouldn’t believe her.

“Then why did you say he has every reason to hate you?” Malcolm asked, keeping his face rid of anything but suspicion, he was getting better at keeping his confusion under wraps. Jester was almost proud.

“Because he clearly has anxiety and I am known to be a bully. Those two don’t mix, and I know for a fact that he used to be bullied. How awful would that be to find your soulmate had become one of your torturers?” She explained and Malcolm’s face twisted into fury.

“You fucking bitch, you probably knew this whole time, this whole thing has been an act just so you could say that one line, wasn’t it!” His shout was phrased as a question but he said it like a statement. For once Jester was taken off guard. She didn’t really have an idea where he got that idea from. She went to question him but he wasn’t done. “That’s why Noah changed his story from when we talked to him to when you talked to him, you’ve known it was him the whole time and have been using him from the beginning, haven’t you? That’s why he’s so scared. You’re worse than I had ever imagined. You’re barely human!” He ranted on stomping closer to her, she knew she wasn’t supposed to show fear so she stayed where she was but her heart pounded violently in her chest and her muscles clenched, ready for pain. He was going to break her down, she was sure of it. The worst part was that she had no idea why. At least most of the time she knew when she crossed the line. If she lied she would get hurt, if she told the truth she would get hurt, it was as if the world had decided nothing she did would lead to good things. Malcolm stopped right in front of her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her forehead and she had to look up to look into his eyes.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, from the amount of times you’ve broken my bones I would think you would know I’m perfectly human.” Her voice sounded like a different person to her, a person who was confident in the face of danger, who made quips despite the pain soon to come. Inside she knew she was just a scared little girl, not old enough to be called an adult but at the age where most people wouldn’t call her a child. She didn’t want to get hurt again, she was so tired of being hurt.

“Well maybe I need to check one more time,” and with that he snapped his fingers and she felt as if fire ripped through her arm and without thinking she looked to see white bone jutting out covered in blood and tore through muscle exposed. She held in a scream, knowing that if she was loud it would only make things worse. Her instincts from home began kicking in. She kept her mouth locked shut and hunched in on herself. Every movement made her arm hurt worse but being hunched made it so there was less area to hit. She focused on keeping her breathing, trying to keep it at a steady rate, hyperventilating only made things worse. It was hard to focus with the voices around her getting louder, but she had practice. Block the voices out, in the end they would only bring more anticipation for the next hit. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, ignoring everything around her except for her breathing and trying not to throw up from pain, but eventually someone must have seen and gotten the nurses. Their warm soothing healing let her relax. She continued to focus on her breathing but let her shoulders fall. When the nurses were finished they didn’t ask her any questions on who did it. Jester got hurt often and never would tell who had done it. She went back to her dorm and laid on the stained disgusting mattress she had had for years. She was exhausted and ready to go to sleep when she felt a tingle on her arm. When she was young that feeling would fill her with joy, the guilt she had been harboring lashed out as she felt it again.

“Jester, can we talk?” Noah’s handwriting was still as messy as ever, he wrote with a combination of someone who wanted to write with as little space between words and letters and someone who wanted nice loops in their letters. The result was a sort of scrawl that was difficult to read, but Jester had gone through all different types of people's handwriting for years now. She could decode it in seconds. 

“Don’t force yourself to talk to me, I get why you don’t.” She answered, ready to let the situation be one that only tortured her in her mind. She didn’t want to deal with it in the real world any further, especially not today. Then again it might have been early morning of the day after she had a bone ripped through her arm, she hadn’t exactly been paying attention to time. 

“But it’s not what you think! I swear.” She wondered what his power was to make him so frightened all those years ago. She wondered why she didn’t have the faintest idea, she was sure she talked to every student in section fifteen. But it was like he was invisible to her. He must not have had an interesting power, but if it was powerful enough to scare him so badly then it should have at least been slightly interesting. Anything particularly deadly interested Father.

“So you’re not scared of me?” She wrote, hoping it didn’t sound too bitter. Or too hopeful. She wasn’t sure what tone she had been going for in the end, it was just a question to be answered.

“I’m not scared of you.” That wasn’t the answer she expected, and she sat up fully, realizing this was going to be a long conversation.

“Then why don’t you want to be friends?” She asked him, writing smaller so they could fit more on their arms. He wrote on the left and she wrote on the right. If they ran out of room they would switch to legs, but after that they would need to wash off their arms, and she didn’t want to do that too soon. She wanted to be able to look at what he wrote again.

“Jesse can’t know that we’re talking again.” Once again Jester was taken completely off guard again. She had no idea why Noah cared whether or not Jesse knew about them. Maybe he was just trying to keep out of the loop so he wouldn’t feel bad about not being able to be with Malcolm, like why they only wrote at night? However Malcolm and Jesse’s faces were both well known around the school, or at least in section fifteen, so Noah must have noticed the two working together. Perhaps he just thought of it as coincidence? 

“Why?”

“Because then he’ll tell your father, and then your father will realize that you never told him my power. He’ll want to know. If he finds out, your father would try to use me for sure. That’s why we agreed to have you forget me.” After he finished the last sentence it became smudged on Jester’s arm and she realized he was trying to erase it. Her mind was reeling. So she had met Noah before, but for some reason didn’t remember him. That and she hadn’t told Father about him. Noah also seemed to be aware of the fact that Jester’s Father had a plan, a plan that should never come into fruition. Jester was missing a chunk of her life that seemed very important at the moment and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“What’s your power?” She wrote back, if he could erase people's memories she could see why Father would want to use that but she didn’t see why that would make him think that he was dangerous. Then again that could have been a lie to throw Jesse off his trail. He might not even be in section fifteen. Jester didn’t really know anything about Noah anymore. He didn’t answer right away, not like before. When he did finally answer he wrote slower, it made his writing more legible. 

“I can make people do whatever I say.” Jester had another set of realization bestowed upon by that revelation. No wonder he was afraid of Father using him, because there was no doubt in Jester’s mind that Father would use Noah until it wasn’t possible anymore and then keep trying to anyway. That kind of power belonged in section one, but if something went wrong it could easily land Noah in section fifteen. Based on the message from when they were younger Jester had a feeling something had gone wrong and he was in section fifteen, like her. She also now knew that what Noah was saying was very literal, people wouldn’t just perform the actions that he told them to do, but he could literally make them do whatever he said, like forget an entire encounter. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Jester looked over their conversation so far and noticed that he had said “we” when discussing the forgetting event.

“How long did we know each other, before we decided to have my memory erased?” For all she knew she had hid it from everyone for over a year that she was in contact with her soulmate, a whole series of events gone. 

“Not long, maybe an hour. You confronted me after my first class and asked me about my power. When you found out my name was Noah you asked what my last name was. When you realized that we were soulmates you had me come to the hallways of section fifteen and asked if you could give me a hug.” He had to move down to their leg to write now, their left arms were filled with his loops. “We talked about what we had missed in each other's lives and you explained your dad’s plan to take over the world. We knew that if you told him about my power he’d do everything he could to use me, even if that meant hurting my mom. You didn’t want to take the chance of him finding out so you asked me to make you forget the encounter, and ignore me unless I confronted you.” That did seem to be in character for herself, and she was glad she was only missing a little bit of her life. It also explained why she hadn’t noticed him again. 

“I don’t want to forget you again.” She wrote to him the truth, because finally there was someone she could tell it to without worry of pain or punishment. She didn’t have to worry about anyone else overhearing or seeing, it was night and the only light came from a battery powered lamp she kept on at all times. She wondered if the lights in the boys dormitory were as broken as the girls, and if they were, how Noah was seeing. Jester needed support right now, when she was younger she needed it too but there weren’t so many people against her, Father wasn’t as close to winning as he was now and she wasn’t brought home to beat as often. Malcolm and Elena didn’t fight against her and she didn’t have to worry about broken bones and burns at school. If she could talk to Noah at night she wouldn’t be alone all the time, she could talk to someone about the pain. She could help him too, she wouldn’t mind having him practice his power on her, maybe they could use it to take down Father instead of him using it against them. She could listen to his problems, they could discuss homework together. Jester hadn’t had a friend in years.

“What room is yours in your dorm?” She didn’t know why he was asking that, maybe he wanted to talk in person. It was hard to wash in private in the section fifteen bathrooms.

“First hall way, take a right, fourth door down.” It was probably the only door that had a light coming from under it, but she wasn’t sure about that and didn’t want him to walk into a random room. That was dangerous. Then again, maybe he was just taking this down as a note for future information and wasn’t on his way there. His question had come out of left field. When she heard footsteps coming down the hall she felt a smile creep up on her face. No one else would be walking around this late at night, it had to be him, he did want to talk to her in person. She wanted a chance to look at him more, to see if she had missed anything when examining him in chemistry. She wanted to never forget her soulmate’s face again. Her door opened and she noticed for the first time how tall Noah was, he was very skinny but probably taller than Malcolm if he stood up straight. His dirty blonde hair was a short mess that was only floofy to the end of his ears. His eyes were a lighter green than Jester’s own. However the most noticeable thing about him was the deep frown on his lips, and the way he had long sleeves on still and long pants covering up the marks of their conversation. The only sign that he was the one who had been writing to her was the blue pen in his right hand. Jester ignored the frown, and moved over so he could sit next to her on the mattress. He stayed standing.

“I’m sorry,” he began and Jester tensed. Nothing good ever came from starting a sentence that way, the start of many sentences she had said. She didn’t interrupt him though, there was nothing she could do about what he was about to do. Although she was left to wonder if she actually had agreed the first time. “Forget about our conversation and meeting, ignore me unless I confront you again. Go to sleep.” With that the world went dark.

[formalmess]

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Five

Summary: Princess Peach visits Luigi to talk.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

The screen flickered once more.

Luigi watched with tear-stained eyes, frozen. He could feel Peasley holding him close, trying to calm him, but his senses were numb.

The clip wasn’t over yet, Toadette’s lifeless corpse being released from the shackles upon the wheel. She was dragged away from the view of the screen. Her brother’s head soon followed, casually kicked after her body.

The screen glitched, revealing static and broken images, before finally clicking off to show pitch blackness.

Peasley held his head low out of respect. He paused, shifting to examine Luigi and evaluate his wellbeing. He looked entirely broken, his composure and mind shattered. His face was a pure white.

”Luigi...”

Peasley shook his head, standing up defiantly.

“We’re going to go get help. Right now. Mario and the Princess, we’re going to go get them both. They’ll be able to help us-“

”Peasley...” Luigi’s voice trembled. “I can’t... I don’t...”

”You can stay here. I’ll go get them myself and bring them back here-“

”NO!”

Luigi shrieked as he ran to Peasley, grabbing his arm, pulling him into a desperate embrace. He held onto him like a life preserver, unable to let go as he wept into Peasley’s shoulders, whimpering and sobbing.

”D-Don’t leave me... G-Grambi... n-no... H-He’s g-going to kill me!”

”No. No, he won’t.” Peasley kept his voice firm despite Luigi squeezing the breath out of him. Peasley shifted, moving out of Luigi’s grasp. “He won’t lay a hand on you. I promise you that.”

”But... h-he...”

”Above all else, I’m going to keep you safe. That’s what I promised you. Until my last dying breath, I will do everything in my power to protect you. He won’t hurt you.”

”I d-don’t want you to leave m-me... he... he’ll take you too...” Luigi sniffled, uneven sobs escaping him. “I-I don’t want you to g-go... he’ll... he’ll... f-find you and kill y-“

”Luigi...” Peasley interrupted his husband’s frantic words. “We can’t just sit here and wait it out. As much as I hate to say it, that deranged man knows where we are already. We have to do something, quickly, before he can hurt anyone else.”

Luigi shivered, holding his sides. “I... I don’t want... I don’t...”

Peasley exhaled, walking away from Luigi to turn off the static television. It switched off with a comforting clunk, the nightmarish video vanquished for now. He stood up and pressed a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“Luigi... We cannot let this man know we are afraid. We have to stay strong. He has to see he won’t break you over something like this. He’s trying to get back at you, as childish and immature as that sounds. And if we give him no reaction... he... he’ll...” Peasley hesitated. “He’ll leave us alone.”

”But, P-Peasley, I’m scared... You don’t know... w-what he...” Luigi’s voice was hushed, squeezing his eyes shut as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m so scared. I’m s-so, so scared... H-He’s supposed to be d-dead...”

”I know... I know it’s frightening. I know. But, it’ll be okay, I promise.”

Luigi nodded, whimpering. Peasley lifted his hand to wipe Luigi’s tears away, holding his face soothingly.

”Hush now.” Peasley whispered with a gentle hum, trying to calm his husband in any way he could. He hugged Luigi warmly. “Everything will be oka-“

There was a harsh knocking at the front door.

Peasley involuntarily released a rather shrill scream, grabbing onto Luigi for protection out of pure shock. After a moment, he coughed nervously and stepped back.

Luigi was frozen, his body visibly shaking.

”W-Wait here, I’ll go...” Peasley cleared his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He tried to control his hurried breathing as he turned away from Luigi.

He walked to the window, pulling back the drawn curtains slowly. He gasped, rushing over to throw open the front door without any signs of hesitation.

For, standing in the doorway, was a crying Princess Peach.

She held a rectangular object in her hands, an all-too-familiar video cassette tape clutched tightly in her grasp.

She sniffled, trying to compose herself.

”Can... C-Can I please talk to Luigi?”

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

Peasley poured a cup of tea for Peach, the group having retreated to the kitchen to talk.

Luigi, through mostly incoherent babbling and mumbles, tried to explain the situation to Peach, telling her everything. The letter, the tapes, the threats... everything.

Peach nodded slowly, listening intently to every word. And once he had told her everything he knew, she began her own explanation.

She had woken that morning to a parcel having been delivered to her quarters, a Toad explaining it was a gift for her. It had been left out in the main hall, the Toad quickly adding on that they didn’t know how it had gotten there.

Inside the box was a tape. And, though it took Peach awhile to find a way to play it, she eventually watched it.

And much to her horror, the tape featured one of her dear friends and subjects being murdered by an old enemy she had previously thought was dead.

And since Mario was out traveling the world with Cappy, she knew she had to get the help of the only other people who knew of Dimentio’s existence, rushing out to Luigi’s manor without a second thought.

She finished her explanation with a deep exhale, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to hold back tears.

”D-Dimentio is... he was supposed to have been locked away in the Underwhere. To rot and suffer.” Peach’s tone was laced with venom. Peasley had never seen her look so upset. “We ended his game-!”

”And you have no idea why he might be doing this?” Peasley inquired. “Or how he might have escaped death?”

”No. No, I... I don’t.” Peach stared up through a lidded gaze, expression exhausted and dull. “Dimentio was never a sane individual... but I-I... I didn’t think he’d be capable of something s-so horrendous...!”

She abruptly forced out a desperate laugh, her laughter dissolving into sobs. 

“He shouldn’t be alive! He shouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else!”

Peasley pushed a box of tissues toward her, sighing as he tried to wipe away the tears forming in his own eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of her.

Abruptly, Luigi stood, holding his sides. Polterpup followed him with a confused whimper, barking at his owner for attention. Luigi ignored the spectral pup as he left the room, trembling and stifling tears, leaving Peasley alone with Peach.

Peasley wanted to go comfort his husband, but decided against it, realizing Luigi needed some time to himself. 

The prince then tried to console the sobbing princess before him to the best of his ability. She wiped at her eyes after awhile, attempting to calm herself.

”P-Peach,” Peasley ventured carefully. “Pardon my asking, but...” He paused, running his fingers over the smooth porcelain of his teacup. “Who exactly is Dimentio? Why is he tormenting you and Luigi?”

Peach paused and sighed, steadying her breathing.

“Dimentio...” She cringed, the mere thought of his name turning her words of hatred to pure malice. “He was a jester, working for a villain named Count Bleck, who was trying to end all worlds. Mario, Luigi, Bowser, and I all worked together to try and stop his plans.

“And I didn’t realize it at the time... or perhaps I was in denial... but, at one point, we had lost contact with Luigi...

”A-And, during this whole fiasco, Luigi had been taken by Bleck’s crew and brainwashed into believing he was ‘Mr. L’... a minion serving under Count Bleck’s command. When we found him as our Luigi again, it was after Dimentio had seemingly brought his memories back to normal.

”And Dimentio...? He... He appeared to be nothing more than a minion following Bleck’s plans. But, he played us all for fools. When a time of vulnerability came, Dimentio betrayed the Count and...

”He forcefully took control of Luigi’s mind and body, making him do his bidding under the persona of Mr. L... and the two fused with a dark entity to create a terrible monster, intent on destroying all dimensions.

”Mario, Bowser, and I defeated him quickly. Mario hated to see his little brother being used for evil like that...

”A-And, after that, Dimentio was gone. He seemingly... died. Right in front of our eyes. But, n-now... he...” Peach buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know how he survived. I don’t know.”

Peasley nodded, trying to take in all the information. Dimentio certainly sounded like a menace, if what Peach described was accurate.

”So, he blames Luigi for his defeat? That’s why he’s coming after you all...?”

”That letter you mentioned... if t-that’s true, then it means Dimentio is coming after Luigi’s friends and loved ones. He wants them gone.” 

Peach glanced up, her face pale as she came to a startling realization. 

”You two... you two aren’t safe here. He knows where you live. He knows where he can find you. And... if he does, then-“

Peasley nodded, standing. He rubbed at his eyes. “It’s been a thought plaguing my mind.”

”I can get reinforcements.” Peach offered. “I’ve already sent a letter for Mario and Bowser. But, I doubt that Koopa will answer me... he hasn’t even been attempting to kidnap me lately. It’s been about a week since I’ve heard a word from him. It’s a little odd, I must admit. Whenever I don’t want him to show up, he does... and the moment I actually need him, he vanishes! 

”And Mario?”

”No response yet... but, until he does, I’ll inform the Mushroom Kingdom citizens to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, and inform our allies of Dimentio.”

”But, Peach, will you be safe?”

She nodded. “I mustn’t abandon my people. I’ll stay here and keep watch over each of them. I won’t let the same tragedy happen again. I’ll be sure to keep in frequent contact with you.”

”I’ll have to send a letter to the Beanbean Kingdom... I wouldn’t want to worry Mother at all, though... perhaps Dreambert would be willing to let us stay at Pi’illo Island for a bit. He was saying at the meeting that he’d love to see Luigi again...” 

Peasley quieted gradually, crossing his arms as he strode over to the hallway. “But, you’re right, Peach. We... We aren’t safe here.”

Peasley’s heart sank as he heard the muffled sounds of Luigi crying from the other room. Hundreds of thoughts ran through Peasley’s mind, but he eventually settled upon the most obvious solution.

He had to protect Luigi, no matter what. Above all else. 

They just had to get away.

”Tomorrow, then.” Peasley announced to Peach. “Tomorrow, we leave the Mushroom Kingdom.”

[tarotdeckshuffle]

Ok so... What if Ardyn (or some other evil force, ya know?) kidnaps the bro's s/o in order to get like leverage on the group/use as a bargaining chip to get to Noct (like offering a trade, like they could get s/o back in return for the Prince), like how do the bros react to finding their s/o missing and all that and how does he get them back? And if/when they are back and safe with their chocobro, how does he treat them and act around them?(If you maybe want to do Nyx and Crowe maybe?Oh! Or Cor)

Thank you for the request! I wholly apologize! I’ve been working on this for days, but it’s taken forever. I’ve never written Crowe before, as much as I love her, so I hope she comes off well.

As way of apologizing for the delay, how do you feel about a “few” bonuses? :3

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Noctis

Ardyn wants to get to him, personally.

You hadn’t returned from collecting firewood.

Noct got worried.

All four Bros split up, looking for you.

Noctis starts to panic.

He calls your name and warps to lookouts to try to see you.

But there’s nothing.

His voice becomes more and more desperate.

The sun begins to set.

“Let us return to camp before the daemons come out to join us.” Ignis suggests.

Noctis reluctantly follows.

But their camp has an unexpected visitor: Ardyn.

“Ah, hello!” He greets the men.

All are ready to strike.

“Is this how you greet a guest? Your manners need work.” He replies.

“What do you want?” Noctis growls.

The Chancellor smiles, upon Noct in an instant.

“A trade…”

Noct’s eyes narrow at him.

“By now you’ve realized you’re missing…something. Your dearly beloved waits for you, safe and sound. They’re even close! Just over…there.” He points to the Niflheim fortress on the horizon.

“I offer you a simple exchange. Your life…for theirs. “

He pokes the Prince in the chest. “The choice is yours.”

Noct summons his weapon, ready to strike the jester down.

“Ah, ah ahhh. You see, their safety depends on me. If I don’t return, neither do they.”

Noctis will growl but release Ardyn to waltz back to his airship.

“And, one more thing, do make your decision before midnight, I don’t know how long dear [Y/N] will last.”

Noct is furious as he leaves.

For Noctis, his heart is made up: he’d trade his life for yours every time.

But there is so much more to consider.

He hates that there even needs to be a discussion on this.

To him, he’s not more important than you.

But fate had other ideas.

Noct is utterly distraught.

He is furious that he allowed you to be taken.

And panicking about your safety.

This all manifests into him being stoic and raging like a storm.

Eventually, the Bros come up with a plan.

But for now, Noct gets to go out and beat up some MTs to soothe his rage.

Night falls and the four make their way to the base.

You’re blindfolded with your hands tied, standing next to Ardyn on the ramp to an airship.

MTs fill the base.

The Bros stand in the middle of the concrete structure.

Noctis walks towards the airship.

“I see you found my trade favorable, Prince Noctis.” Ardyn calls, placing on hand on your shoulder.

“Let them go!” Is all Noctis calls back, striding forward.

“May the lovers have one last embrace,” Ardyn pushes your back, making you stumble into Noctis’s arms.

Every MT points its guns at the five of you.

“Now, dear Prince, your chariot awaits.”

But Noct is smiling.

He wraps his arms around you before calling, “NOW!”

Every light of the base turns on in a blinding frenzy,

Revealing the walls to be lined with hunters, firing down with deadly accuracy.

Gladio, Prompto, and Ignis move to surround you and Noctis,

Allowing you a relatively safe escape after the blindfold is removed.

Noctis is desperately clingy in the following days.

He has to make sure you’re alright.  

Demanding that you be escorted everywhere.

But all five of you are on edge.

Ardyn did not get what he wanted, so he may try again.

This time, kidnapping any of them.

But Noct refuses to let you out of his sights.

You hear him scream your name as he sleeps, waking terrified.

You try to soothe him.

When you are alone, he finally bursts.

“I was so afraid…I thought I had lost you.” He begins to cry into your arms.

“I’m right here, Noct. I’ll always be here for you.” Is what he needs to hear, over and over again.

He’ll worship the ground you tread when he finally calms down,

But he vows not to allow that to happen again.

Prompto

Ardyn is playing a cruel game when he offers to trade Prompto’s S/O for Noctis.

Prompto noticed you were gone after you didn’t return for about 20 minutes.

That 20 minutes turned into 40. He was panicking.

He set out in the direction you had left to find you.

Running the whole way back when he found a trinket of yours.

“GUYS! SOMETHING’S HAPPENED TO [Y/N]!”

All the Bros were on their feet and looking for you in an instant.

Prompto has been calling your name the whole afternoon, trying to find you.

His throat is raw from it now.

He’s worried enough that he feels sick to his stomach.

The four of them trudge into camp together, Noctis with his hand on Prompto’s back.

And there he stands, dark against the bright colors of the camp: Ardyn.

He smiles, looking directly at Prompto, “Missing something?”

Gladio has to restrain Prompto.

“YOU BASTARD! WHERE’S [Y/N]!”

Ardyn paces amongst the camp, kicking over what had been your coffee cup.

“Your dearly beloved waits for you, safe and sound. They’re even close! Just over…there.” Pointing to the Niflheim fortress on the horizon.

All eyes are on the Chancellor.

“I offer you a simple exchange: The Prince for their life.”

Noctis’s jaw clamps shut, Prompto gasps, Gladio growls, and Ignis glares. 

“The choice is yours, Prince Noctis: your life…or theirs.”

He turns and leaves the safety of the campsite, disappearing into the trees.

Prompto summons his gun to take aim, but Ignis pulls the barrel down.

“That is ill advised! The only one who knows where [Y/N] is is him. We need him alive.”

“But…but guys!!” Is all Prompto can manage.

His emotions overflow.

He’s furious, at Ardyn, at himself, and a small part of him is mad at Noct.

Why did Ardyn take you?

Why didn’t he go with you to get firewood?

Why did Noct bring you into this…

He feels lost. Where are you? What’s Ardyn done to you?

He runs over, grabbing the rolling coffee cup.

It was the last thing he saw you hold, it was close to you.

Somehow, now it has meaning.

He runs his fingers over it, remembering your face as you sipped.

Tears fall into the empty cup.

“We’ll get them back, Prompto…I promise.” Noct puts his hand on Prompto’s back.

Prompto wants to believe his best friend, but…can he?

He’s not much use for the rest of the afternoon.

The other three try to come up with a plan.

But Prompto comes up with one before them, while staring at your cup in his hands.

The Bros are at the base as the sun sets.

You stand next to Ardyn, his hand on your shoulder, on the ramp of an airship.

MTs fill the base.

The Bros walk towards Ardyn in defiance of his plans.

“I think you’ve come far enough…” He calls, stopping the men in their tracks.

Before anyone else can speak, Prompto rushes forward.

“SHOW US [Y/N]!”

Ardyn chuckles. “Careful…you wouldn’t want your haist ruining this meeting, would you?”

He shoves you forward, into Prompto’s view.

You try to look at Prompto in such a way as to tell him to run, that you’re ok.

But his eyes are set with determination.

“Now the Prince.” Ardyn grumbles.

Noctis nods to Prompto and starts to walk towards the airship.

And in that moment, Prompto raises his arm level with you.

It has some sort of…armor on it?

NO! That’s a…

A claw grabs your shirt, retracting to pull you forward in an instant.

Without even enough time to blink, you’re drug to Prompto’s feet.

He hoists you up as bullets and swords fly.

The two of you run to safety.

For the next few days, he’s ever at your side.

He has to bury his face in your arms, crying because he was so worried but now he’s so thankful and just…

“Are you ok? Are you sure you’re ok? Did that creep do anything to you?”

Never leaving your side…seriously never.

But his every look at you is adoring.

He’s so worried you’ll slip away, again.

You’re always touching.

It may get annoying, how close he insists upon being now.

It is to the other Bros,

But he’s just so worried, still.

But he promises to you that it won’t happen again.

Ignis

You head out to get firewood as Ignis cooks.

He’s concerned when you’re a minute past your normal window of return.

The most logical conclusion is that you ran up against creatures.

He’ll give you five more minutes.

Never mind, he can’t stand it.

Practically slams the knife he’s using down.

Gladio looks up, “Worried?”

“Yes…they’ve been gone longer than expected.”

Gladio gets up from his chair.

“Well, let’s go join in the trouble…”

He knows Ignis won’t stop worrying about you, but tries to lighten the mood.

It’s better to go and find you than to let him wait.

Prompto sets about stirring the pot of dinner upon Ignis’s instructions.

He is determined to get this right, doing so with unnecessary vigor.

Gladio and Ignis set out in the direction you left, calling your name.

“This silence is unsettling.” Ignis comments.

The yelling continues.

Prompto and Noctis come out to join in the hunt.

But Iggy has grown frantic.

They’ve scoured the land for a mile in every direction around the camp,

But there is no sign of you.

No footprints,

No markings,

No monsters,

Nothing.

Panic edges in his voice as Ignis makes for higher ground to seek you.

Where are you?

He’s desperate for any sign of you.

And that’s when he sees him.

An intruder stands amongst your camp

And waves up at Ignis.

Anger flashes in his features as he sprints back towards camp.

The other bros see Ignis running and assume he’s heading in the right direction.

They all run into camp, stopping just before Ardyn.

“Ah, pleasure to have you join me.” He announces, sitting down in what had been your chair.

Ignis is fit to murder.

“And to what do we owe this…pleasure.” He plays through gritted teeth.

“Oh, you don’t owe me anything…but you may owe [Y/N] an apology.”

Gladio moves to strike, but Ignis holds an arm out to stop him.

“Where are they?” He asks with a stoic anger.

“Well, currently, I have no idea. But, I know where they’ll be.”

Ignis looks like he could pounce at any moment.

“Just as in any good fairy tale, your beloved will appear at midnight. But this tale has a twist! For your true love, you must give up the Prince…” Ardyn gets up as he speaks to pace towards Noctis.

He places a finger on Noct’s chin, raising his face, but Noctis slaps him away.

Ardyn laughs, knowing he has truly gotten to the tactician, as he walks from camp.

“Those are the terms, don’t be late.” He disappears into the forest around the camp.

The moment Ardyn fades into darkness, Ignis slams his fist down on the table, scaring everyone in camp and spilling the now cold pot of stew.

His eyes water.

How could he let this happen?

What has happened to you?

His mind flashes to all the horrible things that could be going on.

And he fully blames himself.

Why did he let his guard down? Even for a moment…that was all it took.

Can he protect both you and the prince? Right now the answer seems obvious.

He’d do anything to get you back, but how could he ask that of Noctis?

Logic tells him how unfair this trade is.

He can’t risk the future of Eos by giving up Noct, he can’t risk his brother.

But you are his everything.

He has no idea what to do.

“Hey…Specs…We’ll get them back.” It’s Noctis, a hand on Ignis’s back.

Everything seems lost…

But it can’t be.

He has to try.

“What do we know?” Ignis straightens, ready to form a plan.

The most important thing you have taught your love is the importance of the element of surprise.

Midnight falls.

Noctis stands in the middle of the base, alone.

Three airships land, spilling MTs from them.

A fourth makes its way down.

The ramp opens to reveal Ardyn.

In the shadows, you stand at his side.

“See, your beloved couldn’t even face you.” Ardyn whispers to you.

The airship hovers above the ground.

“I’m here, Ardyn! Let them go!” Noctis calls.

“I’m a man of my word, Prince. But first, how about you come up here.”

Noctis smiles, now is the time.

He warps towards the airship.

As blue sparks fly, a shot rings out.

A bullet drills into Ardyn’s chest.

Black ooze spills from his shocked eyes.

Before he knows what happened, Noctis is on the ramp.

He wraps his arm around you before warping away, in no particular direction.

The Chancellor lashes out but all that remain are blue sparks.

Ignis smiles from a nearby tower, stolen sniper rifle in hand.

The MTs are kept busy by Gladio and Prompto.

Everyone flees from the base in different directions, meeting up at the Regalia that’s parked a mile away.

You and Noctis are the first to arrive, followed by Gladio and Prompto.

Ignis stays to provide cover for his escaping friends.

Legs fueled by excitement and terror carry him to the rendezvous.

He arrives, only seeing his friends, eyes dreading not finding you.

Noctis looks up at him, smiling, and moves aside to reveal you.

It worked.

Ignis can barely believe it.

He falls to his knees and into your arms.

Desperately holding onto you.

No words are said, nothing could be enough.

He won’t let you out of his sight, ever again.

You lose permissions to get firewood.

Instead, becoming Ignis’s sous chef.

He cuddles more than you’ve ever known him to.

And stays up, just watching you sleep.

In moments alone, he’s always touching you.

“You know I love you…” “Yes, Iggy.”

He needs to be reminded that you’re here, that you’re safe.

It’ll take constant reminding that he saved you, because he feels like he failed you.

He’s tried to apologize for what happened, but you won’t have it.

But your bond is stronger now and Ignis knows that he doesn’t have to do it all alone.

Gladio

The two of you set out in different direction to get supplies for the campsite.

He doesn’t meet up with you on the path back, but assumes you’re ahead of him.

When he gets back to camp, he scans for you.

Dumping the firewood haphazardly, he asks, “Where’s [Y/N]?”

“I assumed they were with you…” Ignis responds, looking up from his cooking.

Gladio growls.

He turns on his heel, setting back out to find you.

“What’s up?” Prompto asks Ignis, joining the scene late.

“Nothing good, I fear.” he responds.

Gladio searches the area he saw you head to, looking for anything.

Everything is too quiet. Something’s deathly wrong.

Finally, he finds it.

But it’s not the sign he hoped for.

Branches are broken, the ground is trampled, it looks like the woods saw a fight.

But his heart stops.

There’s blood.

A small branch holds small drops of blood on it.

Gladio runs the scarlet liquid between his thumb and forefinger.

It’s human…and it could be yours.

He knows he can’t do this alone, so he sets off for camp.

Before he arrives, he hears the engines of an airship.

Chancellor Izunia stands before his brothers.

Gladio storms into the conversation.

Noctis and Ardyn are talking.

“And why would I show up?”

Pushing past Noctis, Gladio faces off against the Ardyn.

“WHERE’S [Y/N].” His voice booms.

“Ah, perfect timing.” The Chancellor coos. “That’s why!”

Gladio is furious, the other men are in shock.

He summons his greatsword, prepared to get answers.

“Now, now, my dear brute. If you want to see them again, you’ll follow my instructions: The prince for your beloved.”

Gladio is even more furious now, ready to strike but willing himself not to.

“You can only protect one, you best choose soon…” Ardyn sings as he turns and walks into the darkness of the woods.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Gladio booms, his sword vanishing as he turns on his friends.

“The Chancellor has proposed a trade…Noctis for [Y/N].” Ignis states, looking at the ground.

“He showed up right after you left…” Prompto adds.

Noctis is quiet, unable to look his shield in the eyes.

Gladio’s blood boils.

He wants to break something, preferably Ardyn’s back.

He wants to scream, to lash out.

But his training has taught him to contain his emotions.

An image of your smiling face flashes before him.

Gods, what’s happened?

He couldn’t protect you.

What if he never sees you again…

But it is his duty to protect Noctis, he can’t give that up.

All Gladio can do is stand, rooted to the ground.

He breathes in great heaves.

His mind racing too fast to allow him to feel.

Numbness is broken by Noctis, placing a hand on Gladio’s arm.

“We’ll get them back.”

Rage turns to chaos in Gladio’s mind, but chaos can be used.

They arrive at the base just before midnight.

Airships start to rain down on the four men.

Three drop MTs, surrounding them.

The fourth hovers above the ground.

From it, Ardyn steps out, you by his side.

A long scratch runs the length of your face.

Gladio looks up, eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“The Prince…” Ardyn calls down.

All is silent and still.

“No.” Gladio responds, pulling a small control from his pocket.

He presses the button.

Bombs explode across the base.

The ramparts are aflame,

MTs are thrown about.

The Shield looks demonic, his wicked smile lit by the flames about him.

This is your chance!

Gladio knew you would know to use the chaos.

You break away from Ardyn.

“JUMP!” Gladio calls to you.

And you do, falling the distance into his arms.

You’re safe against his chest.

He doesn’t put you down as he sprints out of the base, not stopping until you are some distance away.

“Gladio, GLADIO!” You have to wake him from his own mind.

He finally slows and looks at you.

“Love, you can put me down.” You say, lovingly.

He does so,reluctantly.

You look up at him, smiling.

Before being swept into a great embrace.

“I thought I’d lost you…” he whispers into your neck.

You feel hot tears on your skin as you pet his hair, assuring him that you’re safe.

When he finally does look up, he runs a finger along the scratch on your face.

He frowns at it.

“Oh, don’t be like that! Now we match!” You joke.

For the next few weeks, Gladio is constantly with you.

He is always getting you up to train.

And holding you close at night.

He’s scared to lose you, again.

But he knows that Ardyn is hunting, now.

And the chancellor only has to get lucky once.

So he works to make sure you can be better prepared, next time.

Together, the two of you won’t be caught off guard, again.

Cor

You don’t return from a hunt, one day.

It shouldn’t have been anything you couldn’t handle.

But Cor knows something went wrong.

Icy fear grips his heart.

But he doesn’t want to worry the other hunters.

He heads out right away, when you don’t return by sunset.

He disregards his own safety, worrying about you being out, alone and hurt in the dark.

He gets to the area you were supposed to be.

But everything is eerily quiet.

There aren’t even any daemons about.

Footsteps crunch behind him.

Cor spins around, katana ready.

The blade stops at Ardyn’s cheek.

“It appears you’re missing something.” The chancellor wears a wicked smile.

He won’t let it show, but Cor’s heart just plummeted from his chest.

He knew someone may one day use you to get to him,

But he never thought it’d be today.

“Where are they?” Cor demands.

“I truly have no idea.” Ardyn shrugs before pushing Cor’s sword aside.

“But I can tell you where they will be…that base…” he points over Cor’s shoulder, but the warrior refuses to take his eyes off of the threat.

“What’s the catch?” Cor has been in this life too long to think this was going to be easy.

Ardyn smiles, “Oh, you’re as keen as I would expect. Bring the Prince with you by tomorrow night, or you’ll never see them again.”

Ardyn backs away from Cor, his footsteps vanish into the dark.

Cor sheaths his sword, before sighing and looking up at the clear night sky.

Where are you?

Why did he get you involved in this?

You’d have been better off without him.

All he can think about are the moments before you left.

He should have kissed you longer.

He should have told you he loves you.

He should have gone with you.

But he didn’t.

How was he going to make this right?

Could he get the Prince involved?

He didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure he had a choice.

He also knew how mad Noctis would be if he found out about this from anyone else.  

Weighing his options, Cor pulls out his phone.

A sleepy Prince answers.

“Where are you at? Something’s come up.”

Cor sits on the ground of the Bros’ campsite, explaining the situation.

He’s not sure what he expected from the men, but they’re more than willing to help.

They’re all determined to get you back.

Noctis is just thankful that he can help the guardian, for once.

Cor’s lost without you.

His emotions hinder him from thinking straight.

He keeps second guessing every plan he makes before it has time to develop.

Your life is too important to him to go in with anything but the perfect plan.

Luckily, now he has help.

If the boys know how to do one thing, it’s bust a base!

That’s it…that’s the plan.

When Ardyn shows up that night, there won’t be a base left standing.

Cor admits the plan is…strange.

But wrecking the great structure is cathartic.

That night, when Ardyn arrives,

Four airships hover over the wreckage of the fort.

The ramp opens, revealing Ardyn.

You stand at his side, hands bound.

Both of you are shocked as you see the wreckage.

You start to laugh.

“Well, did you at least have fun making this mess?” The Chancellor asks, annoyed at the destruction.

“Yeah! We did!” Prompto yells.

The five men bring their hands from behind their backs, revealing magic bombs in each.

“Want to join in?” Noctis returns.

Ardyn is annoyed that the men wouldn’t play his game, so he’s going to take his toys and leave.

He backs away from the ramp, dragging you along.

Cor won’t have this though.

He pitches his bomb, hitting the ship to the left of Ardyn’s.

The bomb is supercharged and covers the back of the ship in ice.

Off balance, it goes down.

“Must you…” Is all Ardyn replies as he watches the falling ship.

“We’ll give you the prince if you still want him, but give us back [Y/N]!” Cor shouts up.

Noctis is now holding more magic bombs than you thought possible.

Ardyn is completely done with this crap.

“Fine.”

He pushes you from the airship.

You’re falling, falling.

And then a force catches you in momentum.

Noct had warped up to you, catching you, before warping to the ground.

You land, a bound and crumpled mess with the Crown Prince next to you.

In the next instant, you’re swept into Cor’s embrace, held tight against his chest.

He strokes the back of your held and simply takes in your scent.

You begin to cry in his arms.

You were so scared you wouldn’t see him, again.

But here he is.

He pulls away for a mere moment, to check if you’re hurt.

Before pulling you in for a deep kiss.

Gladio jokingly cover’s Prompto’s eyes.

Ignis clears his throat, but Cor ignores him.

You both get up and Cor cuts your binds.

“Thank you, Noctis.” He bows to the Prince.

“It was nothing…just…don’t make a habit of it.” Is all Noctis replies.

The two of you return to hunting, this time, never splitting up.

You laugh at how much more romantic Cor is, now.

He kisses you more, compliments you more, and whispers “I love you” in abundance.

You always knew he loved you, but he wants to prove it.

You’re a team, you need him as much as he needs you.

You’re one of the last good things left in this dark world,

And Cor is going to make sure you know that.

Nyx

It’s a quiet day, rain is falling outside.

Nyx sits at your kitchen table, his coffee growing cold.

His drums his tented fingers.

You’re late getting home.

Far too late for comfort.

He rushes from your home, not able to be patient any longer.

Finding lookouts along the way, he checks throughout the city.

Your normal path home from work,

Your friends’ homes.

Your favorite shops.

No one has seen you.

He calls your phone, over and over again, only to hear your voicemail.  

He’s trying to think through where you could be,

But fear pulls at Nyx’s heart.

Trying for the fourth time, he decides to check your home.

There’s a note on the door, this time.

“Bring the Prince to the alley in the 4th district if you ever want to see your beloved again.”

A ransom, huh?

Nyx was on to guard the young prince the next day.

Whoever has you knows a lot.

They know his schedule and they know about you.

Who can he trust?

Obviously, he didn’t trust the right person…

You’re gone.

His heart is cold but his blood boils as Nyx punches the door, denting it.

The one good thing in his life and he screwed it up.

He’s failed you…

You have to be ok…you just have to be.

Nyx calls the only people he can trust: Libertus and Crowe.

The three of them have played poker together since moving to Insomnia.

Now, they can hustle any game.

The next day, Nyx shows up to the alley.

He’s gently carrying a small, blanketed bundle in his arms.

A hooded figure with a familiar voice greets him.

“Good to see you made it.”

“Where’s [Y/N]?” Nyx demands.

Another figure comes out of the shadows, dragging you with it.

You’re bound and blindfolded, but otherwise unharmed.

Nyx breathes a sigh of relief.

“Now the boy.” The first figure demands.

Nyx looks down at the bundle against his chest.

“Then come over here. I drugged him to get him to sleep.”

Gritted teeth appear under the hood.

“Halfway.”

“Fine.” Nyx responds.

He takes five steps forward.

The first figure nods to the second, they meet Nyx.

You’re handed off towards haphazardly as Nyx carefully hands the figure the boy.

He takes your hand and turns to walk away.

“See, that was easy.” The hooded figure remarks.

“Yeah, it was.” Nyx responds.

The figure removes the blanket from around the bundled, revealing a lumpy sack.

“RUN!” Nyx cries to you.

You’re still blindfolded, but you follow where he leads.

Crowe stands on a rooftop above, waving her hands as bombs planted in the bundle explode.

Libertus and the Crownsguard are upon them as the smoke clears.

You’re a few blocks away when you finally stop running.

Nyx removes your blindfold, running his hands down your face.

“Are you ok?” He asks, looking into your eyes.

“Yes, thanks to my hero!” You say half jokingly, throwing your arms around Nyx’s neck.

He kisses you like it’s his first time in years.

You’re here, you’re safe, and he loves you.

“Libertus took my shift for the day…” Nyx remarks, lifting you off the ground to kiss you, again.

“Hmm, so you’re all mine?” You wrap your legs around him.

“I am. And I think I should start making this up to you…”

The next weeks, Nyx doesn’t leave you unguarded.

The group responsible for your kidnapping is caught, but he’s still unsure.

You move apartments, loosing your security deposit due to a new dent in the door.

You are always with Nyx, Crowe, or Libertus.

And if you aren’t guarded, Nyx is in constant contact.

He teaches you more self defense skills.

Finding you’re quite capable with magic.

But he’s also more loving.

More time is spent in each moment, each kiss, each “I love you.”

He wants to be better for you.

He now realizes that every goodbye could be the last.

But Nyx is going to work his hardest to love and defend you.

He’s not going to screw this up if he can help it.

Crowe

Snow falls on the war torn ruins Crowe walks through.

This was the rendezvous point.

It had been three days since you went missing.

You had gone out on a training mission when your whole unit was ambushed.

The others had returned, badly injured, but you weren’t with them.

Crowe feared the worst,

She just knew your time had come.

But one of the new Glaives had a message.

You had been kidnapped.

You would be returned if Crowe delivered Lady Lunafreya to this specific location in three days’ time.

She hadn’t even hesitated.

Nyx and Libertus went with her, but she had ditched them.

Giving them the wrong coordinates.

It had been three days and three sleepless nights.

Crowe missed you.

She was worried sick, but determination was her strongest magic.

This world didn’t have enough light left in it,

So she wasn’t about to lose hers.

A Niflheim commander stepped out from the ruins in front of Crowe.

He held your arm.

You were bruised, cut, and bound, but alive.

Some of your injuries looked fairly serious.

But you were so close, Crowe could almost hold you again.

“Ah, ah, ah! Where’s the Oracle?!” The nameless commander demanded.

Did he think he could take advantage of Crowe?

Why the hell did he have that idea? Was it because she was a woman?

Was it because he thought her lovesick?

He had threatened the best thing in her life, the only thing that really mattered.

He had put you both through hell,

And now he was still making demands?

She’d enjoy this.

“Oh, shit…knew I was forgetting something.”

Crowe snapped her fingers, as though remembering.

The wind around her swirled.

The Nif thought it was just the weather.

“YOU WHAT!? And you think I’m going to let them live?!”

He held a blade to your neck.

You were weak, too weak to fight him off.

“Yes…and you’re going to run if you know what’s good for you.” Crowe was pissed, no one threatened you…no one.

The commander started to laugh, trying to boast as to his abilities,

But the wind howled and swirled around him.

The ruins shook, the worst pieces coming down.

“STOP THAT! I’ll kill them! I will!”

That was it.

Crowe raised her hands and flames bloomed on the wind.

The commander screamed as they licked at his clothes.

In a single moment, Crowe was beside you.

She embraced you, quickly undoing your bindings.

“Let’s go…” she said, leading you away from the burning rubble.

You found Libertus and Nyx, having already made camp.

Crowe saw to your wounds as they berated her for going without them.

She didn’t care.

She’d burn the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.

She was gentle with you, caressing your face and using soft hands on your bruises.

You’d be on rest for the next few weeks, and she would be at your side the whole time.

You simply stared into those beautiful eyes.

“Are you done?” She asked Libertus when she finished dressing your wounds.

“What?!” He shouted, obviously not done.

“Because I have other things to do…”

Nyx began to laugh as Crowe led you to her tent.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Libertus shouted after you.

“They’re going to have sex, Libertus…” Nyx said.

“I…I KNEW THAT!!!” The best way to shut the man up was to fluster him.

Ravus

He tried to keep you a secret, but some secrets get out.

You had returned to Tenebrae before him on leave.

He arrived days later, expecting to be greeted by you,

But you were absent.

He assumed you had been kept busy with other matters.

In the Manor, he sought you out.

You were not in your quarters and the servants had not even seen you.

All of this was troubling.

When questioned, Luna said that you had never even arrived.

As if on cue, the phone rang.

A servant hands Ravus the line,

“What?” He demands.

“Oh? Bad time? I can understand if you’re cranky, missing your sweetie and all…”

It’s a younger Niflheim commander.

A brash young man who didn’t think Ravus should lead due to his birth.

He was going to do everything in his power to make him step down.

“Where are they?” Ravus’s voice alone sounded like it could murder the man.

“Oh, they’re safe. But they really really miss their little Ray Ray…”

“Enough of this.” Ravus is ready to hang up.

“FINE!” The caller is exasperated. “Resign your position and I’ll release them.”

Ravus sighs.

“Your request has been…noted.” He responds.

“Wait…what?!” The caller is confused but doesn’t have time to question.

Ravus slams the phone down.

Luna stares at her brother.

“Do you actually plan to?” she asks.

“Absolutly not.” He’s already storming off.

“What do you plan, then?” She calls after him.

“To end this pathetic game.”

He leaves Tenebrae immediatly, heading back to Niflheim.

The young man wasn’t expecting the High Commander to confront him directly.

He storms the base, walking like a storm unleashed straight to the young man.

“This…this wasn’t our deal!” He stammers.

“Where are they?” Ravus’s sword is inches from the man’s face.

“Dearest, you are so overdramatic…” you say, from a nearby doorway.

“How’d you get out?!” Now the two of you are tag teaming the young man.

He is utterly confused.

Ravus removes his sword.

“You certainly took your time.” He replies.

“Oh, yes, well his troops needed more training and I actually found some usful information.”

The young man is confused and utterly terrified, now.

You join Ravus, taking his magitech arm.

“Let’s go home, love. This idiot has taken enough of our leave time.”

He’d slowly sheath his sword before turning to walk out with you.

Stopping at the doorway, he’d call back,

“I recommend you resign your position straight away, lest this incident come to light.”

The two of you make your way to Tenebrae.

Ravus is cross with you the whole way.

“Oh, admit it! You were at least a little worried.”

He’s pouting now.

Finally, he admits it.

“Yes, I was. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, fine…I’ll make it up to you.”

Ardyn

Glaives snuck in, late at night, and kidnapped you from the base you’ve been staying in.

Ardyn is furious.

He will bring the whole world to its knees if anything happens to you.

The unit holding you agrees to trade your life for his.

He readily agrees.

You wait, surrounded by Glaives, at the reandeavous.

Your eyes are pleading with Ardyn, begging him not to do this trade.

But he practically waltzes to take your place.

Stopping midway to kiss your cheek.

“Did they harm you, my love?”

You’d answer no. The Glaives are not ones for torture.

He’d nod.

“Then worry not. I shall return to you soon.”

You’d watch them escort him out of view.

He smiles back at you.

As soon as you can no longer see them, you hear their fate.

Screams, so many screams.

Ardyn returns soon after.

“There, now. What say we go home?”

You know the fate of the Glaives, as much as Ardyn hates it.

But today, you are just thankful to have him by your side.

Bonus:

Aranea

She’d be worried, but let all hell rain down upon whoever took you.

Likely beating the crap out of your kidnapper with her bare fists.

Then berate you for being taken.

But you can bet she wouldn’t let you out of her sight for quite a while to follow.

Luna

Would have the Archeon remove the roof of the building you’re held in.

Letting your captors deal with the wrath of a god,

While she quietly runs away with you.

She’d be worried sick about you.

And not let you leave her side from then on out.

[bloodyshadow1]

Flowers, Feathers, and Fists, ch4

“Are you drunk Beau,” Yasha asked despite knowing the answer.

“Nope,” Beau seethed frustrated beyond belief, “not for a lack of trying though,” she said gesturing to the several empty bottles beside her. Beau hadn’t been able to get drunk for a long time. Something they never told her when she ‘volunteered’ to be a monk of the Cobalt Soul was that as you become more and more connected with your own ki and the ki of the universe, your body adapts, becoming immune to poisons and disease. Which meant that Beau could drink all day and night the stoutest of spirits and not get buzzed in the slightest.

“You’re making quite a mess for a pointless quest,” Yasha said pointing to the broken glass from the bottle Beau had dropped. “We both know you can’t get drunk, you proved that with Nott’s flask a long time ago. The only thing that’s going to happen is you’re going to make yourself sick.” Even if the alcohol couldn’t affect her, drinking too much of anything wasn’t good for you.

“I’m paying for it,” Beau shot back pointing to the pile of gold coins on the bar, next to the bottles, “Even if I can’t get drunk that doesn’t mean I can’t try. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to die sober.” She looked back to the barbarian with sad guilty eyes.

“You’re not going to die Beau,” Yasha said, not until we talk she said to herself. She wouldn’t let Beau die, god help whatever gods tried to take her or Zuala away from Yasha.

“Zuala told you what happened,” Beau said more than asked, as she eyed the barbarian and the sword strapped to Yasha’s back. “You wouldn’t be down here if she hadn’t, sword and all.”

Yasha stared at Beau, she was always tiny compared to her, but this was the first time Yasha had ever seen the monk ever looked small. She looked tired and exhausted, her eyes were red and not from the alcohol, she might have cried a bit. “The weight of my blade was to comfort me when I have something important that I have to say, I don’t need it for killing tonight.” Or today might be more appropriate the sun would be up in a few hours.

“I’ll leave,” Beau said softly, like a scared child. “I’ll leave if that’s what you want Yasha, I don’t want to make trouble for you and Zuala.” She sounded close to tears, but she sounded sincere, and Yasha knew she was. She also knew that Beau would rather die than leave the Nein, her real family behind, but she would for Yasha. She would do so much for Yasha and the barbarian wished she realized it sooner.

“I don’t want you to leave Beau,” Yasha said awkwardly. She didn’t expect Beau to be like this, so miserable and tired. She should have known that for all her good qualities, Beau was crippled by self doubt and self blame. She was exhausted, both of them were, but Beau looked far worse. “Zuala told me what happened, I’m not mad, not at you and not at her,” she tried to be soothing, at the very least Beau didn’t look like she was on death row anymore.

“How can you not be angry with me,” Beau asked in a small voice, “I kissed your wife?”

Imagining the incident, Zuala kissing Beau curled a fire in Yasha’s belly that she didn’t need to think about right now. Though at the very least it was a pleasant feeling now that she had come to see things from another point of view. “From what Zuala told me she did most of the kissing,” Yasha tried to tease, but she wasn’t very good at it yet, “look, I want to talk to you about this, but you’re in no state to have this conversation, and having a clearer look at things maybe I’m not either,” she said truthfully. She desperately wanted to talk to Beau about what she had discussed with Zuala, but neither of them were in any condition to talk about something this big.

“Come here,” Yasha said gesturing for Beau to get into her arms, she didn’t trust the monk not to try and drink herself stupid if she went back to her own room.

Cautiously Beau stepped towards Yasha, like a deer sniffing to see if her food source was trapped. Yasha just rolled her eyes and picked Beau up princess style instead of over the should like she used to surprising them both. “I-I have 5 gold around here somewhere,” Beau managed to get her joke out through her stuttering. Though she reached into her purse anyway as if she didn’t believe what was happening was real.

“It’s fine,” Yasha said brushing off the monk’s offer and tried to ignore how right it felt to have Beau in her arms like this. If everything went well then they could talk tomorrow and maybe Beau would end up here more often, but until then she tried not to enjoy it as much as she did.

“How are you not mad at me,” Beau asked cautiously after Yasha cleared the steps, “I’d be pissed.”

“Don’t worry about that for now Beauregard,” Zuala was right, Beau did let out a nice shiver when you used her full name. “I spoke with Zuala and we both need to talk with you tomorrow. Just know that I’m not angry with you, and neither is Zuala.”

“If I wasn’t so pissed about not being able to get drunk I’d be sure I was drunk,” Beau mumbled into Yasha’s shoulder. She really was quite cute when she was confused and tired.

“Make sure you drink plenty of water before you go to bed,” Yasha warned as she got to the room Beau shared with Jester. “Just because you can’t get drunk doesn’t mean whatever you drank won’t dry you out.”

“None of the fun of getting drunk but all of the hangover,” Beau said annoyed, “lucky for me.” She looked unsure at Yasha as if she didn’t believe that this was actually happening.

“Drink your water and go to bed Beau, you need your rest,” Yasha said giving the tiny monk a kiss on the forehead. She channeled some of power her angelic blood gave her and did what little healing she could through her lips. It wouldn’t heal the hangover, but it would help in a small way. “We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise,” with that she left to go back to her own room. Her face was red from her own boldness, and as she walked away she could hear Beau whisper something about somehow getting to be drunk, that helped with Yasha’s ego.

Tomorrow then, tomorrow things would change, one way or another.

“How did it go,” Zuala asked when Yasha returned to their room. “Your back quicker than I thought.”

“I didn’t talk to Beau about our relationship,” Yasha told her sitting down exhausted. She didn’t realize how tired she was.

“Did you chicken out,” Zuala teased gently, she knew how hard it was for Yasha to be open, especially with other people. it had taken her a long time for her to even get comfortable around Zuala, but Zuala knew she was worth the wait, just like Beau. “If you want I can talk to her tomorrow, I’m the one who started this after all.”

“No,” Yasha said firmly, “you can be there, but I need to be the one who talks to her about this, I owe her that much at least.”

“Okay,” Zuala said dragging Yasha down to the bed so they could get some well earned rest, “but I’m going to be there to,” she insisted. “It involves the three of us after all.”

“That might be for the best,” Yasha said as she closed her eyes, it would be less complicated and more believable coming from both of them instead of just her.

“Sleep now my Angel,” Zuala said, “we have a quite the day tomorrow,” and with that the two fell asleep knowing they would need their rest for tomorrow.

Yasha and Zuala weren’t able to speak with Beau in the morning, the monk was hungover from her attempt at literally drowning herself in alcohol as predicted and was in no mood to speak to anyone. They set off traveling, the rest of the Nein could feel the awkwardness between the three women. Jester asked Beau about it when doing what she could to relieve the pain in her head, but Beau just told the cleric that she thinks she messed up. Nott asked Zuala and Yasha what Beau did though and Zuala told her that Beau didn’t do anything wrong, which sounded alien to the goblin/halfling, but she didn’t press it any more. Only Molly was willing to press them, as he viewed it as his right as best friend, but even he barely got anything more, just that the three of them needed to talk.

Eventually they stopped their cart early, they were in no rush to Zadash, it was a summer’s day which meant the sun would be high in the sky regardless and they knew this spot on the road was safe enough. They were probably strong enough to deal with anything that attacked them on the main road, but it was the best place to camp for a while, they had been down this road enough to know that. Besides, worst comes to worst, Caleb could teleport them all where they wanted to go, cart and all.

Once they settled in for the night it was close to sundown, Zuala nodded to Yasha and the barbarian went over to Beau. “I -, we need to speak with you Beau,” Yasha said awkardly gesturing between her and Zuala. She tried to ignore the fact that the others were staring at the two of them with great interest. “In private,” she stated to make sure that was clear.

Beau looked like she was thinking for a bit, like she was trying to figure out an escape but eventually relented with a sigh, “yeah sure. How bout the three of us go for a walk,” she suggested. Her voice was full of false cheer, as if she expected the worst to happen.

“Wonderful,” Zuala said coming over, “let’s head that way,” she sort of dragged Beau with her leaving Yasha alone to face the others.

“Caleb,” Yasha said walking over to the wizard. “I adore Frumpkin very much,” she stated, “please do not make me send him back to his realm by making him spy on us,” the threat was clear in her voice.

“Ja of course Yasha,” Caleb agreed quickly. For all the power he gained the last few years, he knew better than to piss off the barbarian no matter how tranquil she seemed. It wasn’t worth the 10 gold to resummon his cat and have the three women mad at him no matter how much he, and the others, wanted to know what happened between the three women.

“Thank you,” Yasha nodded, “anyone else who follows us puts their own lives in peril as well, this is the only warning,” she said looking directly at Nott and Jester. Without another word she turned from the camp and followed her wife and her…, well her Beau if things went well.

The three of them walked for about 10 minutes before they reached another clearing that seemed good enough for them to talk. During the walk Beau glanced around every now and then, maybe looking for someone following them, or maybe looking for an escape route. It hurt Yasha, that Beau thought she would hurt her, Yasha never would hurt her if her will was her own. Yasha knew that it wasn’t that Beau thought that Yasha would hurt her, just that she was used to people hurting her, it didn’t do much to make Yasha feel any better though.

“Alright,” Beau said breaking the silence, “I know you guys are the ones who wanted to talk with me, but do you mind if I say something first?”

Zuala exchanged a look with her wife, this wasn’t how they had thought it was going to go, but they weren’t going to stop her. “Of course Beauregard, say whatever you wish without judgement,” she promised. It was her impulsiveness that got them all into this…, well it was only a mess if it didn’t work out, if it did she was a genius who deserved to be worshipped by both her lovers. Still, it was her actions that brought them here so she needed to respect whatever Beau said.

“So you’re not mad at me,” Beau turned to ask Yasha, “for kissing your wife.”

“I’m not Beau,” Yasha promised.

“Well then I can only guess the reason that the two of you asked me out here if it wasn’t to kill me,” Beau said. It didn’t surprise them, despite her self-depreciation, Beau was smart and clever, but still, something seemed off about her. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she muttered more to herself than to them, “but I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

It was heartbreaking to hear for Yasha and Zuala who had hoped and believed that Beau would be happy to be in a relationship with them. Still, despite the hurt they would respect Beau’s wishes. “Of course Beauregard,” Zuala said though her cheeks flushed white in embarrassment, she couldn’t believe that she was, “I’m sorry for all of this, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“Look it’s not that,” Beau said she looked guilty, “I’m flattered and will probably hate myself for the rest of my life for turning you guys down, but I just…, can’t.” She looked really down. “I mean if you guys wanted to spice up your sex lives, I get it, but you can find someone better than me.”

There it was, Beau made an assumption, not a insane or illogical one, that Yasha and Zuala wanted to invite her into their bed. “Beau,” Yasha said softly, Zuala hadn’t known Beau very long, but Yasha knew that dark look in the monk’s eyes.

“I mean,” Beau started again as she turned her back to them before they could say anything else, “you guys can afford Jester’s mom with all the money we have if you want an exciting night. I mean I’m no slouch with women, but they don't write songs about.”

“What if we weren’t asking for just for a night Beau,” Yasha said taking the smaller woman’s arm and turning her around, forcing Beau to look at her.

“Well than what else would you want me for,” Beau shouted back, she didn’t even know why she was yell, but the emotions were building up inside of her and she needed to get them out somehow, it was either shout or cry and she wasn’t going to cry in front of them. “I can only punch things and hit on pretty women badly, I’m not good at anything else. Why else could you want me for,” she whispered that last part as she fought back tears.

Yasha could only look at her with sad pitying eyes and Beau wanted to get angry, it would be better than being this pathetic mess. But she couldn’t, she was always so full of anger and she hated being pitied, why couldn't she get angry at Yasha now. If she lashed out maybe it would show Zuala and Yasha the real her the garbage person that’s pretending to be a competent member of the party.

“Oh Beauregard,” Yasha said her eyes full of warm pity and something else Beau couldn’t recognize. Briefly Beau wondered if she sounded like that all those years ago on Bisaft, nah, she probably sounded more condescending than concerned. The little monk tried to pull away from her weakly but she couldn't summon any strength to get out of Yasha’s grip.

“There are many reasons to want you Beauregard,” Zuala said gently as she went to Beau’s other side so she had to look at one of them. “You’re far more amazing than you give yourself credit,” she said taking Beau’s face in her hands.

“I’m just a garbage person who hits things,” Beau protested weakly, she always felt weak when looking into the eyes of a pretty girl and Zuala was beautiful. “I’m the normal one.”

“No Beau, you’re far from normal,” Yasha said in her gentle thunderstorm voice, Zuala let go of Beau’s face so she could meet Yasha’s eyes, “you’re extraordinary,” she whispered and Beau felt her knees go weak.

“You can’t just say things like that to a girl Yasha,”Beau mumbled to the ground her face bright red. “Not like that and certainly not with your wife right here, a girl could get the wrong idea.”

“What if it was exactly the right idea,” Zuala said softly and Beau turned back to her, being surrounded by the two most beautiful women in the world and constantly having to switch between them was giving Beau whiplash.

“I mean I already said -,” Beau hesitated.

“I don’t mean in our bed for a night Beauregard,” Zuala interrupted with a gentle power in her voice, “in our bed, in our hearts, maybe one day…, in our marriage.”

Part of Beau had an inkling about what they wanted from her when Yasha didn’t pull out her sword, or at least punch her for kissing her wife. But it was the part of her that Beau never listened to, the part that told her she was loved, the part that told her she was smart and strong, the part of her that told her she wasn’t garbage or a mistake. It was the part of her that sounded warm and kind, that sounded like hope. Beau was terrified of that part of her, more than the voices in her head that sounded like her parents that called her worthless, trash, that her friends only pretended to care about her…, that she was unloveable.

“You’re good Beauregard,” Zuala continued not giving Beau a chance to be overwhelmed by her own thoughts. “You’re strong, and sweet, and funny, and smart, and so fucking hot,” she said giving Beau a cheeky smile.

“You’re amazing Beau,” Yasha said gentle wrapping Beau in her arms, “you don’t have to agree to anything, but it doesn’t change that. You are beautiful and strong, and have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. I don’t know why you can’t love yourself, but I don’t care. I will love you enough for the three of us.”

That, That wasn’t what Beau thought Yasha would say. Only one person in her entire life and told Beau that they loved her, and that was Jester who said it as a friend after Beau said it first. Here Yasha, the girl she had been in lov-, pinning over for the past couple of years said it first, it couldn’t be real. “Y-you love me,” Beau asked as if it was the most important question in the world, and maybe it was.

This wasn’t how she wanted to tell Beau, this isn’t what she had talked about with Zuala, but love was rarely something that went according to plan. Instead, Yasha steeled her courage and spoke with her heart, “Yes Beau, I’m in love with you,” it was gentle and sweet, but Yasha felt like an even heavier weight was removed from her heart than the one from last night when she talked to Zuala. “I think I have been for a long time.”

Beau looked terrified, “b-but,” as she looked at Zuala, did she ruin the closest thing she had seen to a good relationship. She had been worried since Zuala kissed her last night, ‘of course your ruined them you piece of shit,’ a voice in her head snarled at her sounding like her dad, ‘it’s what you do.’ It had probably wanted to berate her more as she started to panic, but Zuala interrupted it.

“Breathe Beauregard,” Zuala said gently taking Beau’s panicking face in her hands again, “breathe in and out, slowly.” As she was walking through a simple breathing exercise Beau managed to stem the panic attack before it came full blast. “Yasha and I still love each other, that hasn’t changed, I promise. We just found out that maybe, our hearts were bigger than we thought they were and had room for another. Room for you,” she said softly as she made the offer, there was no demand or trying to trap, just letting the self-destructive monk know that people cared about her.

“I-I’m grateful,” Beau said trying to find the words, “but I can’t,” the words hurt to get out. She never wanted anything more than to be in the arms of these two women, but she couldn’t. She was impossible to want, not worth loving. Beau was the unwanted daughter of the esteemed Lionett family, replaceable, broken, the rotten fruit of her mother’s womb her father was fond of saying. She ruined everything she touched, she couldn’t do that to them, even when they realized she wasn’t worth their time and removed her from their relationship, she was worried she would taint what they had. “I can’t ruin you two,” tears started to fall even as she struggled to get out of Yasha’s arms. She couldn't breathe, she needed to get out of here, away from them.

Yasha let go of her, but caught her arm before she could go dashing off into the forest, “you are not going to ruin anything Beau, because that isn't you. If it's still a no because we're not what you want than fine. But if it’s because you’re scared that you’re going to ruin us or because you hate yourself than please stay, Zuala and I will love you so much that it won’t hurt as bad and we’ll make sure one day you’ll see yourself as amazing and beautiful as we see you.”

Beau turned her head towards Zuala, the monk had lusted over Yasha since the moment she saw the barbarian, had loved her for almost as long. But the tiefling looked at her lovingly and acceptingly, “you’re amazing Beau,” Zuala said softly, “you’ve saved my life, you’re gorgeous, and when you fight my heart dances like you do. If you want to say yes, than say yes, we will face anything to have you with us, because you’re worth it. It’s going to be hard sometimes, sure, but all relationships are and I would rather the three of us face it together than alone.”

Beau stood their, Yasha let the monk’s arm slip out of her hand, as much as she wanted to hold Beau, she needed to be the one to make the decision without interference. She wouldn’t ever take away Beau’s freedom, something she never had before meeting the Nein.

“I-if I say yes, and I’m not saying I am,” Beau said weakly, her will was eroding, the self-loathing was still there like always, but the two beautiful women confessing to her seemed to quiet it a bit, “there have got to be some rules.”

“Of course Beauregard,” Zuala said hopefully, she had a sweet smile on her face despite her heart threatening to escape her chest. She hadn’t felt this way since Yasha gave her a roc’s feather when they were teenagers. “We wouldn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, it’s a lot to ask.”

“Okay,” Beau said softly, thinking about what she needed, “if the three of us become a thing, you guys can’t give me special treatment in battle,” she said firmly. “I’m not a fragile piece of glass and I don’t need a babysitter. I’m a front line fighter, I get up in the face of our enemies whether they’re people or monsters and beat them to death with my bare hands so they don’t hurt anyone else. It’s my job to protect everyone and if we’re going to be together you both need to accept that.”

It was hard for them, but both Yasha and Zuala agreed, Yasha understood better than most how strong Beau was, she had fought beside her all this time. Still, the monk wasn’t as indestructible as she made herself out to be, she was dodgy and good at reading her opponents, but she was still just a person beneath her training. She was tough and strong, but just as vulnerable to blades and arrows. But Yasha also knew that she was right, you couldn’t fight to win if you were fighting to keep one person safe. It had taken Yasha a long time to realize that protecting everyone meant that everyone was protecting you too.

“Two,” Beau said continuing, she still sounded like she was choking, but at least now she seemed like she was managing. “The three of us take what…, this is slow. I’m not good at relationships with one person, I can’t imagine how much I’m going to fuck it up, but hopefully if you guys are willing to be a bit patient maybe I won’t be too much of a screwup.”

“Of course Beuregard,” Zuala said right away, she knew how to deal with a nervous lover who was constantly down on herself, “we won’t rush things, what we’re trying to do is new to all of us, it would be best to take things slow.”

“Alright,” Beau said a bit softer, “last one for now, if…, whenI get to be too much to deal with, just tell me and drop me, I won’t complain, I’ll just take the hint and we can go back to being teammates. So don’t hesitate.” That was the hardest part for Beau, maybe she could hold off a bit and have some good memories with Zuala and Yasha until they realized she wasn’t worth it, but she knew it was going to happen eventually.

“What Be-,” Zuala started to say. She needed Beauregard to know that they wouldn’t leave her alone no matter what, that their feelings weren’t conditional, but Yasha stopped her.

“Done,” Yasha said interrupting Zuala before she could argue with Beau, “you said that was your last one for now,” she walked over to Beau. Beau nodded, she wanted this, but part of her also wanted them to but part of her also wanted them to assure her that she wouldn’t get that bad. “If you have other needs, just let us know, we’ll do our best to accommodate you,” she said it slowly with a confidence she didn’t have. “You’re an equal to the two of us in this, even if this is very confusing for all of us, so don’t hesitate to speak up. I promise we will always be willing to listen.”

“I have your word that you’ll end things if I get to bad,” Beau asked making sure.

“Yes,” Yasha nodded, “the minute you become too much to handle we will cut you loose,” she confirmed. Taking Beau’s face in her hands Yasha continued, “but you will never become that Beau I promise. I love you Beau, I’m not scared to say that, and someone you love can never go too far or get so bad that you have to cut them loose.”

Yasha spoke with such strong sincerity and conviction Beau couldn’t help but believe her. In the end, she was emotionally exhausted and too tired of fighting what she wanted. “Okay,” Beau managed to get out, her eyes were gleaming with tears but no more fell, not yet anyway, “if you guys are willing to take a risk on a bad investment like me than let’s do this.” It didn’t feel right, no, what she said didn’t feel correct. It wasn’t something flowery like bards sang about and it didn’t go on and on like the purple prose poets wrote about, but it was so unbelievably Beauregard of the Mighty Nein that it felt righter than anything she could have said.

Yasha and Zuala smiled at her and embraced her softly, Beau wasn’t a hugger, not because she didn’t like them, but because before meeting Jester and the rest of the Nein she never experienced one. But still, sandwiched between two gorgeous and powerful Xhorhasian women who apparently cared about her flaws and all, it was pretty damn right.

Notes:

So what did you think, did you like it, dislike it, love it, love parts but hate others, favorite part least favorite part, think I should burn in hell, tell me your thoughts. You don't have to read this part this is just me being anxious about my writing and rambling on a bit with my thoughts I'm a bit sorry about how angsty Beau is, maybe a bit ooc but she's my favorite character and I think she has a lot of self-loathing that keeps her trapped and realizing she's not nearly as bad as she seems will allow her to be happy. I also figured that while Beau and Yasha had to talk and beauyasha is my opt, Zuala desevered and needed to be there if the three of them are going to be in a happy and healthy polyamorous relationship together The hardest part of writing this was at the end where the three of them are talking, it's really hard to write dialog and having three people present and communicating is so frustrating. I actually sort of ended it where it was because I thought it fit and because between the three of them it would only get longer and more messier at that point. Additionally: Big thanks to everyone who commented and gave kudos, here and on the beauyasha discord, your kind words have helped me so much in pushing through my writers block, the kind words I got a few days ago are the only reason I finished this chapter so you never know when a nice word or comment can do for a writer I thought about ending it on a kiss too, between Yasha and Beau and then Zuala and Beau and Yasha and Zuala, but it got too messy already with the heaviness and I realized I would rather have it during the next chapter than the end of this one. Finally, I know Yasha said that loving someone means accepting their flaws and never giving up on them, but that is not good advice. It works here because Yasha knows it's beau's selfloathing and abusive past speaking, and they are going to be in a romantic relationship, she has known Beau for a long time and trusted her with her life for a long time, but in general love has limits. People who claim to love you can hurt you, intentionally even and will keep doing it if you let them, sometimes it's best to just cut off the dead limb if the tree is going to survive. It sounds harsh but that's just the way it is sometimes and it will be better for you in the long run as long as you are safe leaving the person. Anyway, I'm going to stop here, thank you for reading

[princessamericachavez]

FJORD’S PLAYLIST

Welcome to my overthinking where I literally meta over meta. Because what else am I supposed to do when Travis gives me such a good Fjord playlist to freak out over. 

So, y’know, meta under the cut. Here we go:

1. Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea by Missio

Panic. Confusion. The cold, dark and salty depths with no end in sight. And then light — but, how? Fjord shouldn’t be here. What is he forgetting? No time to ponder or fight something that seems to have a plan of its own.

I FEEL LIKE FJORD’S DROWNING WAS WAAAAY MORE TRAUMATIC THAN WE AS A FANDOM ACKNOWLEDGE, OKAY?

Like, way way waaaaay more horrifying than just “I passed out and woke up in the beach with cool new powers” and more “I think I literally died.”

The berth surrounding my body crushing every bit of bone The salt, it seeps in through the pores of my open skin I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue

Fjord shouldn’t be here. How many times do you think he’s thought that? Not only the fact that he should, by all accounts, be dead, but that out of his whole crew why would he get to live while everyone else is lost and gone. 

Fjord has some fucking deep survivor’s guilt, y’all. I’m telling you. 

2. The Funeral by Band of Horses

Things seem the same – but where is Vandran? Who will guide Fjord now? One thing is for sure, the Fjord he was before is dead and gone. Bury the pain and live on.

AGAIN, I FEEL LIKE WE AS A FANDOM DON’T ACKNOWLEDGE ENOUGH HOW FREAKING LOST FJORD IS WITHOUT VANDRAN. (i will never get used to that freaking spelling but I guess it’s the official so fine)

He was Fjord’s mentor, father figure and overall savior. He’s the person who made the difference in his life, who pulled him out of what seems like hell and gave him a purpose and sense of self. Losing that is no small deal, and I think a lot of his actions in the past several episodes have been guided by that pain and that need to find out at least what happened to him and who this man was before they met. 

To the outside the dead leaves, they're on the lawn Before they died, had trees to hang their hope

He didn’t even get to give Vandran a proper funeral or goodbye, y’all.

Fjord’s whole arc is just one last desperate attempt to connect to Vandran, to feel like he maybe hasn’t lost him entirely (probably the reason Jester keeps bringing him up, too; she knows Fjord the best and probably understand that urge is what’s driving him).

3. Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi

Time to go. Keep moving and don’t look back. Fjord’s only known two lives — one he loved and valued, the other he detested and wishes he could forget. Only by moving north and away from this city will Fjord be able to start fresh. Now to disappear… ya’ll.

Time to go. Keep moving and don’t look back. I’ve said this before, and I will say it again: Fjord is a survivor. He’s gotten this far by not giving up, by doing whatever it takes to survive, and he’s not about to stop and give up now. 

He’s lost everything he ever had, good and bad, he’s lost the little sense of stability he grew to cherish, and all he has now is the drive to start again. To not give up. 

It's all the same, only the names will change Everyday, it seems we're wastin' away Another place where the faces are so cold I drive all night just to get back home

He’s never been anyone, anyway, never had a family, a last name, property... all he has is himself and his resolve to keep going.

4. The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Love me some Disturbed, and this rendition builds like one of Fjord’s dreams. Terrifying and incredible visions flood his mind, and his confusion is only matched by the sometime physical manifestations that accompany his dreams. Can’t help but think of Caleb’s memories at the same time.

WOAH TRAVIS. 

I feel so bad because Fjord seems to really be terrified of whatever is happening to him, even when some of it might be incredible and peak his curiosity, it feels like he’s just freak out. 

Also interesting to feel like maybe Fjord finds a ghost of that darkness in Caleb, perhaps what drives him to confide in him, or trust him to stop the darkness if Fjord loses his way.

Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence

“Left its seed while I was sleeping” is such an on-point way to put the way Fjord is shaken by this visions, mulling over them when he wakes, trying to figure them out. After every dream, you can see his stance shift slightly as he tries to adapt to whatever new knowledge he acquired.

5. How Far I’ll Go by Auliʻi Cravalho

Let’s be honest – this is totally Fjord. Plus, you bitches were kidding yourself if you thought some musical numbers weren’t going in this playlist. Also, Disney.

FJORD IS A DISNEY PRINCE CONFIRMED. 

Travis is a dork, also confirmed. 

For real, though, I feel like this song captures Fjord’s excitement with his new life. He’s constantly pushing to see how far he can take his powers. For the first time, he probably feels there’s a chance that he will be someone, that he will “go to distance” (sorry not sorry). The world is no longer an island for Fjord, it extends beyond the horizon and he’s hungry (also not sorry) to see and experience it all.

Every turn I take, every trail I track Every path I make, every road leads back To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me And no one knows, how far it goes If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me One day I'll know, if I go there's just no telling how far I'll go

Also, for the first time in the list, this song is so full of hope for big and good things. I’m all here for this. LET FJORD ENJOY HIS NEW LIFE AFTER A LIFE TIME OF SUFFERING AND LOSS. PLEASE.

6. Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

We’re going to get each other killed. Who’s in charge of this ragtag bunch of misfits and criminals? And if no one is in charge, does anyone know what we’re doing? Pretty sure the answer is “no.” One thing is for sure, it’s best for the common stranger to mind their manners when addressing The Mighty Nein. Unless it’s a kind word, best keep your thoughts to yourself and move along, amigo.

I laughed so damn hard when I read this because that’s such an ON POINT definition of the M9. 

Group of Heathens? Check. Gonna get each other killed? Check. Who tf is in charge? Check. 

However, it also shed light in the idea that the M9 are dangerous and better not be crossed. It almost sounds like Fjord enjoys that. Can you blame him, after being through hell? To have a group of people where he feels like he has some power, that he can earn respect, that he can defend himself and those he loves? Unless it’s a kind word, best keep your thoughts to yourself and move along, amigo.

Welcome to the room of people Who have rooms of people that they loved one day Docked away Just because we check the guns at the door Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades You're lovin' on the psychopath sitting next to you You're lovin' on the murderer sitting next to you You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?" But after all I've said, please don't forget

All my friends are heathens, take it slow Wait for them to ask you who you know Please don't make any sudden moves You don't know the half of the abuse

YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF THE ABUSE.

There’s a very strong sense in this song of “even if the world is against us we look after each other” and I love that mindset for this little group of disasters.

7. Overburdened by Disturbed

The weight of Fjord’s responsibilities weigh on him constantly. New powers, new mission, new friends, new crew. The last time he felt this comfortable, everything was ripped away from him — violently. He feels like the waves may be breaking over his head, and struggling to catch his breath he must keep a calm demeanor and steady hand — and push on.

We all know Fjord has been in over his head but it’s nice to see Travis put it so clearly. I think it’s also interesting to be reminded that most of Fjord’s calm and in control demeanor is just a front to hide his doubts and fears. The best example for that? The whole thing with Avantika and how some of the M9 (and the fandom) feared some of that was for real when his goal has always EXPLICITLY been to protect his friends.

Hell is still overburdened I must stand and wait in line Hell is still overburdened How have I been so determined maligned?

There’s the closing of the curtain In the play that was my life Countless chapter’s left unopened, tragedies inside I was fighting for a reason Holy blessed homicide Seems I have committed treason All I’ve sacrificed

In the end, though, he walks a thin line and falling over to the wrong side is all too easy.

8. Pray For Me by The Weekend, Kendrick Lamar

How dope was the Black Panther soundtrack? Fjord feels strange and exciting powers surging within him, and as much as he wants to push the envelope of what he’s capable of, he must rely on those he’s closest with to check him, to keep him grounded — or he might lose more than just his sense of self.

That’s such a good way of putting it. If Fjord dares push for this powers and chase his curiosities at all, it’s probably bevause he’s counting on the M9 to tell him when he goes too far.

I’m always ready for a war again Go down that road again It’s all the same I’m always ready to take a life again You know I’ll ride again It’s all the same (ooh, ooh, ooh) Tell me who’s gon’ save me from myself When this life is all I know Tell me who’s gon’ save me from this hell Without you, I’m all alone

I just really love the idea that Fjord is willing to go as far as it takes to survive, to neverbbe powerless again, to protect himself. That he is always ready to do what it takes… And that’s what he needs true saving from. Himself.

When Travis talks about Fjord losing more than his sense of self, I suspect he means his new friends. He’s afraid to lose their trust, and that might just be the thing that keeps him from risking too much. It does well to have something to lose, something worth protecting even over our own desires.

Without you, I’m all alone.

9.Sunflower by Post Malone & Swae Lee

It’s easy to let all of life’s shit get you down — and sometimes, you need only look as close as your friends. Watching Jester move through life with boundless exuberance is contagious.

YOU KNOW I’M GONNA MAKE A WHOLE ASS POST ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR SONG RIGHT?

So I’m not gonna go too hard om the shipper feels right now. Not too much, anyway.

Just let me get emotional about Jester being Fjord’s literal beacon of light in all this darkness, in him being pulled along with her happiness and shenanigans, loving her pranks and silliness… As much as Fjord got a sense of self amd belonging with Vandran and his crew, did he ever have a true friend that could lift his spirits like this before?

Every time I’m leavin’ on ya You don’t make it easy, no, no Wish I could be there for ya Give me a reason to go Every time I’m walkin’ out I can hear you tellin’ me to turn around Fightin’ for my trust and you won’t back down Even if we gotta risk it all right now, oh

I think this is so important, both in light of what we mentioned earlier and in Fjord’s current arc. Jester constantly pulling him back in when he goes too far, not giving up on him, making him wish he was better and that he could protect her too.

They look after each other.

I’m fine.

ALSO JUST LET ME SCREAM ABOUT TRAVIS ADDING A WHOLE SONG JUST FOR JESTER FOR A WHOLE MINUTE BECAUSE I’M FEELING SO BLESSED AND VALIDATED. SHE IS SO DAMN IMPORTANT TO HIM.

10.Unsteady (Elrich Lee Gravity Remix) by X Ambassadors

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. And looking around at the people that now surround him, Fjord feels like they are building an increasingly strong chain.

Listen, Fjord my boy is already so attached and dependent of his friends and feels so much stronger and steadier thanks to them after a lifetime of fear and rejection. I’m so emotional.

Mama, come here Approach, appear Daddy, I’m alone ‘Cause this house don’t feel like home If you love me, don’t let go If you love me, don’t let go Hold Hold on Hold on to me 'Cause I’m a little unsteady A little unsteady

DON’T YOU DARE LET GO OF HIM YOU GUYS HE NEEDS YOU SO MUCH.

11. Ocean (feat. Khalid) by Martin Garrix

Feeling cautiously optimistic about his future, he finds himself in awe of his adventuring crew. That’s a new emotion and outlook for him, and he feels truly bound and responsible for these crazy people.

THIS IS A LOVE SONG TO THE M9.

THAT’S IT.

HE LOVES THIS CREW SO MUCH. HE’S REALLY TRYING TO DO HIS BEST BY THEM.

I will physically fight anyone who dares doubt of this good boy again. He’s been alone his whole life. He finally found a family and he will do anything for them. They are the best thing that has ever happened to him.

If we’re caught in a wave, I will carry you over It don’t matter where you are, I’ll run to your front door When my head goes in different directions You know my heart’s never on the move And in the dark times, you don’t have to question If I’m a hundred with you

You could put an ocean between our love, love, love It won’t keep us apart You could build a wall, I would run it up, up, up Just to get to your heart If we’re caught in a wave Baby, we’ll make a way You could put an ocean between our love, love, love It won’t keep us apart

LISTEN. I’M JUST

SO

EMOTIONAL

12.Warriors by Imagine Dragons

Half the shit Fjord has seen since joining up with The Mighty Nein would normally have sent him running. But ya best know, The Mighty Nein are no joke. These fighters are bound to him, and he to them —and no one is taking away this new world he has found.

LET HIM FEEL BRAVE.

LET HIM FEEL HOPEFUL.

LET HIM FEEL POWERFUL.

LET HIM FEEL LOVED.

LET HIM FIND STRENGTH IN HIS FRIENDS.

In youth you’d lay Awake at night and scheme Of all the things that you would change But it was just a dream!

Here we are, don’t turn away now, We are the warriors that built this town Here we are, don’t turn away now We are the warriors that built this town From dust.

This is so on point and I love how much Fjord enjoys being a part of this group of powerful warriors and how protective of this he is. This is his life and he will do anything it takes to live it and keep it by any mean necessary.

“and no one is taking away this new world he has found” is such an interesting perspective about how Fjord thinks and why he’s sometimes willing to go to even dark lengths to get what he or his friends want. This is a possessive and protective statement coming from a man who already had everything he held dear ripped away from him once, who had lost and suffered too much… He won’t let that happen again.

[el-oh-her]

The Eerie Earth Shattering One Liners

Everyone likes a good one liner, yeah? It’s literal definition is a one line witty remark or a short joke, but for the purposes of this, think of a one liner as a line with a purpose. I’ve wanted to articulate what this is for so long, and why your writing should have at least one or two of these, but an eerie one liner is the best term I can think of that encompasses this. 

With that out of the way, beware spoilers for the following stories (which will be labeled when they’re about to show up so you can skip around it): Avatar: The Last Airbender, Critical Role 1, Critical Role 2, Undertale, Until Dawn, The Prince of Egypt. 

Please take this with a grain of salt. 

So, what do I mean about eerie one liner? These are single lines that stick with you, that resonate to a reader. They make you feel the exact opposite of what you would feel with a good witty one liner. These do not make you warm and fuzzy, but instead haunt your dreams at the cusp of sleep. 

An eerie one liner can fail without context [Until Dawn/Undertale Spoils]

While some lines can just be outright terrifying, the absolute horror or meaning of these lines should fail if spoken out of context. Of course, if you have a line like “She left, and never looked back,” without any context the reader can maybe try to fill in some blankes. This doesn’t mean the line succeeds with context. We have no idea who is “she” and why she left, and why she never looked back. This line gathered power with context. 

Let’s look at a real life example of an eerie one liner from Until Dawn. 

“Hannah?” 

Out of context, this line can mean a thousand things and could be completely forgettable if you don’t know the context that this is spoken. First of all, Hannah is believed dead in Until Dawn until it’s later revealed she survived a fall that trapped her in a mine, and she ended up eating her sister (who also fell with her) and turned into a monster from Native American faiths called Wendigos. This line is spoken by her bother Josh after a Wendigo creature graps him. He recognizes the tattoo on the creature, and speaks this line in utter desperation and confusion. 

It’s a moment of raw emotion, and while Until Dawn is filled with witty one liners (#TheresAFreakingGhostAfterUs), this one eerie line stuck with me because nothing else mattered in this moment. All of the fun and jokes melted away and it was just Josh finding his sister, and the terror that comes with that. 

I’ll give you another example with Undertale 

“But nobody came.” and “I can’t understand!” 

Now the greatest thing about this line is how it evolves from a taunt to a character’s internal struggle. In the beginning, the antagonist Flowey uses this line to taunt Frisk. It’s funny to him that no one is coming to help Frisk in the end. They are just...alone. 

But later, we uncover the story and we learn that this line encompasses all of Flowey’s emotions after he had died as Azrael, and woke up as Flowey. He’d gone out into the surface world to help his adopted brother Chara, and when he died, nobody came to save him. This topped with the line: 

“I can’t understand.” 

By this point we’ve learned that Flowey has no soul, and therefore, no way to emotionally connect with anyone. This is obtained when Frisk refuses to kill Flowey and isntead tries to spare him. Flowey is frustrated and claims he can’t understand why Frisk is being so nice, so merciful when Flowey had done so much wrong to Frisk. Flowey literally cannot understand mercy and empathy and it frustrates him and it’s pure, raw emotion as he becomes visibly upset that he can’t understand because he wants to understand. 

An errie one liner can reveal something about inner struggle [Critical Role 1 (Scanlan). Critical Role 2 (Yasha) ] 

This one is not always the case, but in relevance to a character, I think these eerie one liners should reveal something about a character or a character’s inner struggle. The character is driven by an emotion or an event that is going to cause this line to come forth. It is backed by a tragic backstory, by an event they wittness. They do not plan these lines, but rather fall out of their mouth before they’ve realized what they’ve said. 

Here’s an example from Critical Role 1: 

“What’s my mother’s name?” 

On the surface this line seems odd at best, but this line is screamed out by Scanlan Shorthalt in the wake of his own ressurection. He has become frustrated that all of his friends have such vivid histories so often talked about and considered in their actions and he felt like he was just a storyteller, and that his own trauma didn’t matter anymore. Kaylee learning of his death and bringing him back was this trigger, and this line is followed by dead silence because no one knew his mother’s name. This line comes out from anger. 

Another Critical Role example, this one from Campaign 2: 

“I have so many flowers to bring to her.” 

Now, this line a reader could maybe put some context clues based on what words are here, but you really have to be in for the long haul to understand the depth of this line. Yasha is seen throughout the entire show collecting flowers in a book, which the other players are aware and even give her flowers when they notice that she does this. Then, she admits to Jester and Caduces that she’d been married, and her wife killed. At a loss for words, Yasha says she’d love to visit her grave, and then drops this line. In that moment, everyone realizes why she’s been collecting the flowers, and what once was a cute hobby is now riddled with absolute agony. This line comes out of tragedy and saddness. 

An eerie line can be dangerous to say or carry a dangerous meaning/undertone [Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Prince of Egypt] 

When we say things in certain contexts, we never quite know what the concequences are. There’s risk with these lines that can have some serious concequences. There’s also a darker understone or meaning within it. These lines should scare you. They should make you think. They should make you wonder how many people would say the same. Be scared to say it. Be scared to know what it means. Be scared to hear it. 

How about an example from Avatar The Last Airbender. 

“There is no war in Ba-Sing-Se.” 

This line is terrifying not to those who say it but those who hear it. People come from outside the city and they hear this line and it confuses them beacause there is a war going on outside the walls, and why not in the city? It’s a line that’s drowning in political intrigue and indoctronation. This line is scary because you don’t know how far this city is willing to go to make sure you know that there is no war in Ba-Sing-Se. 

A final example, from The Prince of Egypt.

“I know to whom I speak, Aaron.” 

Miriam speaks this to her brother Aaron in front of their brother Moses, who has yet to realzie his hebrew origin. Moses has been offended by Miriam and Aaron is desperatly trying to fix the problem and he tells Miriam in a hushed whisper that she doesn’t know to whom she speaks. 

This line is scary because Miriam is saying this in front of her owner essentially, as she is a slave. She’s defying her masters in the name of her religion, and in the name of the Israel people. This line encompasses all of Miriam’s frustrations and her desire for freedom being literally right in front of her. But saying this, changing Moses’ mind is a risk. We are terrified for Miriam because what if she can’t convince Moses? Will he hurt her? Will she surive? Should she have been silent? 

And that’s all I got. 

[tinylilemrys]

Blue - a Widojest fic

Read it on AO3

Rating: G

Word Count: 1696

Summary: Caleb has a favourite colour.

Tags: Fluff, Caleb watches Jester paint, Jester surprises him, Campaign 2 spoilers

A/N:  I know I'm one of like five people that ship this, but they're both just so goddamn adorable that they pulled me out of my writing slump, so I owe them a lot.

Caleb has always been partial to the colour blue. As a child of the Empire, who rarely saw the sky beyond the grey clouds obscuring it most of the time, it had always instilled a sort of hope that there was more. Somehow, despite everything, something good would break through.

He couldn't have ever imagined being surrounded by quite this much of it. It stretches all the way across the sky, broken only by the occasional wisp of cloud. It lays spread out around the ship on all sides, broken only by the bright skittering reflection of the sun.

It also sits a few feet away from him on the deck, painting, wearing an endearing expression midway between concentration and bliss.

Caleb sinks further back into the shadow he's using as protection, heeding Fjord's warnings about the sun and pale skin, and steals glances at her over the top of the book he was only barely reading anyway. He can't help but smile at the way she has completely commandeered the left staircase to the forecastle, spreading out her painting implements so that attempting to pass that way would require quite the display of acrobatics. He knows she doesn't mean to and if anyone asked her to move, she would immediately and without question. This is just how she is when she starts creating.

As much as Jester is still a mystery to him in many ways, one thing he has learned in the times he has surreptitiously watched her painting or drawing is that she doesn't guard herself as much when she's concentrating on what she's making. And just how he sometimes finds himself mulling things over while poring over his well-read spell tomes, Caleb suspects this is when she does much of her reflecting and processing.

He finds the way she uses blue fascinating. Where Caleb finds solace and calm in the colour, Jester paints with it matter-of-factly, as if it is a necessary part of creating what she wants to create, but is not all that fazed by it. He supposes that as much as he is still excited to see so much blue, Jester has had no short supply of it her entire life, and it probably just doesn't hold the same interest for her.

By contrast, she has made it no secret that she loves the colour pink. It is embellished on her dress; it is the colour she requested Pumat Sol change her magical haversack; it is the colour of her spiritual weapon. The bright pink she favours is not a common colour in the natural world, so when she gets to paint with it, Caleb sees the faint smile on her face.

Caleb is grateful that it was probably too dark to see the pink of his cheeks after Jester heroically saved him from his feigned heart attack last night.

She seems to take as much joy from the colour yellow - swirling the brush around her page in bright happy strokes that bring to Caleb's mind the golden wildflowers that grew in the fields around his childhood village. It also briefly brings to mind the blazing gold of the fire that consumed his home, but he shakes his head clear.

He won't think about that now.

Jester paints her greens with relish, and Caleb finds the same unfamiliar and unwelcome sinking feeling in his stomach he feels whenever he sees her chancing glances at Fjord when she thinks no one is looking. She has known him the longest out of everyone and as such Caleb knows it makes far more sense for her attentions to be caught by him than any other member of the party, but some dark primal part of him simmers with frustration nonetheless.

He also knows what that probably means and he refuses to think about that either.

Caleb's heart catches as her hand hesitates over the purple for a moment or two before she picks it up. Molly's passing still hangs heavily over their party and he knows it weighs on Fjord, Yasha and Jester especially. However unfounded the idea, he knows that  they believe themselves partially responsible for his passing and though he has been consistent in his reminders that they are not to blame for what happened, he also knows what it is to have guilt eat away at the heart day after day. She closes her eyes for a moment as if in prayer before dipping her brush into the pot.

When she reaches for the red paint, he knows he's not imagining the small tears that pool briefly before she takes a deep breath and shakes them away. He feels a pang of regret on her behalf. She should have had more time with her mother and would have if not for the circumstances getting away from them. He makes a silent vow that he will help clear her name in Nicodranas so that the next time they visit, she will be able to have as much time with her mother as she wants.

He tells himself that this is something he would do for any of his friends, but he knows that it's a bit truer for her, which is an unsettling thought.

When she reaches for her pot of orange, Caleb is surprised that she looks up at him. Their eyes meet and, panicked, Caleb immediately buries his nose in his book. Though he had tried to avert them as quickly as possible, it wasn't fast enough to miss the surprise on Jester's face that their eyes had locked at all.

There's a beat or two of awkward silence before he hears her giggle slightly.

"Caaaleb, were you watching me?"

"No," he lies, desperately scrambling for any excuse. "I was just taking a pause between paragraphs to reflect on what I'd just read and happened to look at you just as you looked at me."

"Okay, if you say so," she says in that sing-song voice that should be annoying, but that tugs at the corners of his mouth and the edges of his heart every time. "I wouldn't blame you if you were though. I did save your life last night like the amazing and powerful cleric I am."

He knows he's blushing now and he damns his pale complexion for making it impossible to hide.

"Thanks again, Jester. I do appreciate it."

She looks as if she wants to say something more, but bites down on it with a smile and turns her attention back to her artwork instead. Caleb stares back down at his book, not daring to place his eyes anywhere else, though completely unable to absorb any of the words there. He can hear the blood in his ears coursing in time with the thudding of his heart, and knows that the heat creeping up his neck has little to do with the warm sun above him.

This is very much not good.

A few minutes pass in which Caleb tries and fails to continue his book, wondering if Jester's eyes are on him, and at times almost feeling them there, though he can't bring himself to look up and test this theory, which is why he jumps a few moments later when he feels the book being tugged down to reveal Jester, now on her knees right in front of him.

"Caleb, are you sure you’ve been keeping out of the sun like Fjord warned? You're looking pretty red right now." Her eyes are alight with mischief and he knows she's teasing him as he finds she is she is wont to do. "The sun can be really bad for you, you know."

"I have been trying to be careful as far as possible, but thank you for the reminder."

He wishes the wood below him would give way so that he could fall through it and escape this embarrassment.

"You're welcome," she grins. "You know, I'm glad you decided to go back to reading because otherwise you might have spoiled the surprise."

"The surprise?" Caleb asks. He blames the salt in the air for his impossibly dry mouth.

"The surprise," she says dramatically, bringing her hand out from behind her back and handing Caleb a small scrap of parchment on which she has painted the perfect likeness of Frumpkin in his cat form. Caleb's eyes widen in shock and he finds, despite the warm air, his hands are shaking slightly.

He doesn't know what to say and he can see something in her expression falter as he sits in stunned silence.

"Yeah, you know, I thought it was really kind of you to let Beau have Frumpkin for a while after losing Professor Thaddeus, and I know how much you like having him as a cat, so I thought I'd make you something that you can look at in those times when he's not around or he's being another creature. Do you... do you like it?"

"Like it? Jester, I... I don't know what to say. This is the nicest gift I have ever been given. Thank you very much." 

He dares to look into her eyes then and for once it seems she is as caught off guard as he is most of the time around her. She blinks a moment later, however, and her face returns to its usual jovial state.

"You're welcome," she says, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek and where her lips touch blazes furiously.

She bounds off to gather her paints a moment later and with one last brilliant smile, she turns briefly back to Caleb.

"The paint is still drying so you should be careful with it for the next while or else it will get all smudgy."

And then she disappears below deck, leaving Caleb in stunned silence once more.

He spends the longest time staring down at the painting, memorising the brush strokes, marveling at the way what looked like chaos earlier is now cohesive and beautiful.

When he's sure that the paint is dry, he tucks his gift carefully between the pages of the small book he keeps in his breast pocket.

The sky has never been so blue.

[elenafisher]

chelsea watches (read: is agonized by) “avengers: endgame”

i just got home from endgame and i have a lot to say about it!

OVERALL:

i... liked it? i think? i can’t tell. 

there’s probably going to be a lot of complaining in this post, yet i didn’t actually hate the movie. but there was a lot to digest, so i’m sure my feelings will change over the next couple of weeks.

this movie was edited weird and i think it gave me whiplash. 

the tone was dramatic and desperate, then lighthearted and fun, and then back to dramatic and desperate before i could so much as blink. it was very jarring!

it also made me cry. 

robert downey jr. has always been very earnest in his portrayal of tony stark, but he gave all he had in this one. i was on the edge of tears watching him the whole time, really. there’s definitely a sense of finality to his performance.

those last 20 minutes had me weeping a bit. when they put the arc reactor on the bundle of flowers... oh, my heart. :’(

THE GOOD:

(most of) our characters are back! 

but was there ever any doubt? the stakes were made to feel high, but they never really were. you always came away with the feeling that they were all gonna make it.

no word on vision, though! pretty confused about that one. i know he was killed after the snap occurred, so i don’t think they actually can bring him back, but i always thought that he would, since they have this to film still.

it was very well made. i hope they keep bringing back the people who work on the sets, the cinematography, and the lighting, because it was all so well done.

we need to raise one for alan silvestri and his amazing soundtrack. 

oh, did anyone else notice the emphasis on DAUGHTERS? 

tony’s daughter morgan

scott’s daughter cassie

clint’s daughter lila

thanos’s "daughters”, nebula and gamora

to me, it felt like they were setting up these girls for potentially taking up their father’s mantles, which would actually be cool as fuck.

morgan stark is absolutely the cutest little bean i’ve ever seen in my life. 

I LOVE YOU 3000!

her scenes with tony were so sweet.

that cheeseburger parallel... oh man.

really, every scene that every person shared with tony was really good. you can just feel that everybody was giving everything they had because they knew they only had so much time left to play these characters together, and they wanted to get these final performances right.

tom holland, you heartbreaker. the audience in my theater went absolutely nuts when he finally returned. but when he was crying as he was talking to tony for the last time, oh man. 

“i lost the kid.” please...

THE BAD:

i still don’t really get what they’re doing with thor.

i don’t share this opinion much because this is tumblr and everyone loves this movie, but i didn’t like ragnarok, and i don’t like what’s become of thor or bruce. i wasn’t really checking on these two before, but now they’re just the comedy reliefs of the MCU.

chris hemsworth is funny, of course, and thor is a badass, of course, but they were just trying so hard with him. 

it kind of feels like they’re just pulling him apart, like one group still wants him to be the noble leader of asgard and the other just wants him to be the court jester. so, rather than decide, they just mushed their ideas together.

captain marvel: i knew she wasn’t going to be in the movie much, because she would’ve done everything in, like, 30 minutes, but they really, really underutilized her. seriously, she was only in this one, at most, for five minutes.

but, in those five minutes, she got a new haircut and kicked all kinds of ass, which are both wins.

THE UGLY:

STEVE ROGERS, SIR, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

i can’t believe they hit the undo button on cap’s story.

rather than have him grow and develop in his new role in the future he never wanted or expected to receive, they just had him go back in time to marry the one that got away.

but don’t get me wrong y’all; steve and peggy hurt me so good. i live for their angst. but they weren’t supposed to get together like this!

it’s gross because peggy moved on. she was able to pick up the pieces and create something wonderful for herself by having a fulfilling career and a happy marriage with another man.

steve should’ve accepted her choice. if he loves her so much, he should’ve accepted that he lost her and, since she moved on without him, he has to move on without her.

i can almost get the poetic cinema that they were going for: after tony loses his chance at having a family and living his life, steve is woken up and realizes how much he’s been missing out on, so he decides to go out there and discover what he’s been running away from all this time.

but, rather than do those things, or literally anything else, steve goes back in time to... marry peggy.

like, he could’ve traveled the world with sam and bucky, or gone solo for a while, or even hit up sharon again. 

sharon carter, what a waste. they really couldn’t commit to the idea of her and steve together, could they? 

but as soon as they confirmed sharon to be peggy’s niece, there was just no way a romance could blossom. it’s kind of hilarious how in a cinematic universe where raccoons talk, characters time travel, and AIs can be 3D printed, kissing the niece of your former flame is still considered to be the weirdest thing about it.

seriously: i find it all so vulgar and manipulative.

the one good thing that came out of this was sam wilson, the only worthy captain america, receiving the shield. 

i’ve read that some people are upset that sam got the shield instead of bucky. like, did y’all watch the last movie? let bucky have his plums and his goats. he’s done fighting other people’s wars.

THE EVEN UGLIER:

i got problems, y’all, and those problems have two names: natasha romanoff and clint barton.

i ship these two because everything in the avengers (2012) led me to believe that these super cool assassins who were fighting each other were actually in love with each other and it was them against the world (which doesn’t sound familiar at all, i know).

the characters had history and scarlett johansson and jeremy renner had chemistry. i saw it and i know all y’all saw it. 

so, y’all can imagine how goddamn appalled i was when i first read that natasha and clint were not only not lovers, but that clint actually had a secret family, with a secret wife, on a secret farm, and that we were going to be told this with absolutely no build-up whatsoever. 

but y’all could tell that the russos were as tired as i was when it came to accepting those facts! 

they decided to throw caution to the wind and show some more intimacy between natasha and clint, which was delicious. finally, some good fucking food.

i mean, the necklace? she was wearing her necklace again!

to me, it seemed like natasha had fallen in love with him all those years ago, but he was either already married or had turned her down (or both?), and she was never able to act on her feelings for him. i think that clint was also in love... and perhaps knew that he could never be with her, because of their lifestyles and her past, and chose laura instead. or something agonizing and unfulfilling like that.

(i really hope her upcoming movie expands on this.)

and i do think that she loved him. like, romantically. she couldn’t stop touching him the whole movie (HER HANDS ON HIS FACE!!! she’s so worried for him i’m crying) and was shaking, she was so relieved, upon being reunited with him.

it is some consolation that no matter what, you are never able to deny that natasha and clint love each other: even when they’re not romantic partners, they are definitely platonic life partners. their mutual devotion to one another, in almost every universe in the comics and in these movies, is incredibly strong and moving. 

so, rather than endure clint’s death, natasha chose to sacrifice herself so that he could get the stone and, ultimately, be reunited with his family. and, on paper, it sounds okay... except, it really isn’t.

y’all wanna know why it’s not okay?

it’s not okay because natasha was an original avenger, and we were never given the chance to spend time with her, or become emotionally invested in her journey, or to care about her reasons for making the ultimate sacrifice. 

like, i cared about natasha, but i felt that i would’ve cared so much more (and that the audience could’ve, as well) had we’d been able to have a front row seat to her “atonement” arc. 

because, as an audience, we sort of started in medias res: while she was not initially forthcoming with who she was or what she was doing, natasha came to be seen as a reliable and capable ally by the avengers, her second appearance onscreen. we are given no real reason to distrust her because she’s so desperate to find redemption, which she’s made apparent in almost every movie, and it’s hard to hate somebody working so strongly for another chance.

i mean, this journey would’ve been made so much more badass by us experiencing it firsthand, rather than relying on the hearsay from the directors, writers, and actors. we should’ve gotta a miniseries starring natasha romanoff as the black widow, so we could finally see what she did to become so disgusted with herself and so feared by everyone else. 

this is (partially) why so many people adore bucky. we’ve seen him as the best friend, the fellow comrade, before he was forced to become a mindless killing machine. we’ve seen him kill and cause absolute mayhem. but now we’re watching bucky grow out from that and become something more (and, hopefully, something better). 

basically, natasha romanoff should’ve received that same treatment. we needed to explore all of her facets, not just some of them. 

tl;dr: we should’ve had more time with natasha.

it’s also not okay because natasha’s sacrifice, one that was both irreversible and absolutely pivotal to the fate of the final battle, was not given nearly the same amount of respect that tony received after his demise.

while we all owe a lot to robert downey jr. for his choice to portray, and continue portraying, tony stark / iron man, he is not the most important avenger. 

it’s also worth noting that he did not have to be the one to snap his fingers. i mean, anyone could’ve been given what tony was wearing and then wielded the gauntlet. but, like natasha, he made a choice to sacrifice his life for the greater good.

yet, only tony was given an elaborate funeral. no matter how you slice it, it’s enormously disrespectful to a veteran team member. for this ultimate sacrifice to be made by the only woman on the original crew is doubly insulting.

AND ALL OF THIS IS MADE WORSE BY THE FACT that natasha’s death mirrors gamora’s. they’re identical, right down to the music that plays and how the camera focuses on their bloody bodies.

the russos were probably trying to invoke poetic cinema again here, but the scene comes across as somewhat lazy and insincere. like, they can’t even kill her right!

as terrible as this scene is, i want to give scarlett and jeremy a round of applause for it. you really got the sense that these characters were more than ready to die for each other, and that’s only because scarlett and jeremy were able to sell the emotional intimacy of the scene so well. 

all of it is too little, too late, however.

allow me to conclude this rambling nonsense by stating that i also think they condensed her character arc too much. like, i know this branches off of what i was just talking about a dozen bullet points ago, but even if natasha were to receive this ending, i feel that she received it too soon, y’know?

there should’ve been more scenes in the previous films dedicated to her, and her feelings, and how she relates to any given situation, because another problem that drags this scene down is the lack of any information about natasha. 

like, even when assembled with the other avengers, she feels remote.

perhaps that’s intentional, given that the character’s a spy and has been enigmatic about every other area of her life for so many years. but i think she’s been written to be too enigmatic.

[futuremusicalwriter-blog]

Les Miserables Oc story  Oc x Enjolras   Mute   Part 1

Ok so this is a long story so if you’re not into that then I wouldn’t read this, but I promise it will be worth it! 

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cold, dirty, and born in the upstairs of a brothel. the crying of a newborn echoed in a building that dispised that horrid sound; debating on what to do with the infant, there was talk about tossing it in the trash. Mademoiselle Barnet was vindictive, cruel, but also cunning and seductive. Mademoiselle Barnet was a ridiculous looking woman, hair always up as if whoever got the biggest hair would get the most customers; lipstick so full it could put a jester to shame. Her large chest protruding outward in front of her so she could not see her feet. a child of a pig would be treated as such, Mademoiselle Barnet would keep the child, but not in the way a child should be kept, the child was kept as a slave. "What are you going to do with it, Mademoiselle? you no not how to care for the child and yet you let it stay?" Barnet chuckled, "it is not my child, but simply a worker, if I find a father then I won't have to make sure it doesn't die," she walked off without another word. Adele was another brothel worker, she spent her nights on her knees and spent her mornings bargaining for food and clothes. Adele was to be a mother of one, not too long ago when she had told the father he was more than displeased; he wanted one night, not a commitment. He came to Adele's place of work and waited until she was done for the night. He found her at last and made her get rid of the baby by his own hand, Mademoiselle Adelle could not have children after her incident with the father. Looking down at a child, so pure so unbothered by the cruel world they were now brought in to without consent; no name was given to the small being now playing with her fingers,"What are you, my dear?" she cooed being sure to be careful while checking their gender. Tears, slowly came down her face as she was now holding a beautiful baby girl in her arms, the daughter that was supposed to be hers. As she held the small babe she noticed she had fallen asleep; she slowly placed the child down in the makeshift crib that was a drawer,"I promise you, my dear, I will never let anything happen to you." she turned and left the child to sleep. She went downstairs and caught Mademoiselle just before she went into a room with another man, "Please excuse me Monsieur, but I need to speak with the Mademoiselle," both looked upset, but Barnet went with Adele to the side, "What is so important?" Adele looked deep into her eyes, "Your child Mademoiselle, your child is a gift that you must cherish, she is so pure and you cannot take care of her, please give her to an orphanage," Adele wanted the child as her own, but would not tell, Mademoiselle looked at her friend in confusion, "I most certainly will not, I will bring her up to know nothing other than a broom and a cloth." Adele was furious at what she was hearing, but saw no point in fighting, "Alright then Mademoiselle," she choked, "I still have a crib that I should give you," Mademoiselle Barnet smiled at Adele before nodding her head and heading back to her customer. Adele walked out of brothel territory, she cried her way to her house as she reflected on how her own child's life had turned out, dead and beaten. she couldn't bear to see that happen to this other child who had been given the chance at life but was going to be for granted as just brooms and cloths.

                                                       Five years go by

Five years Adele had stood by and watched the poor girl be given no love from Mademoiselle Barnet, just used as a servant and to collect money from Mademoiselles' customers. She would clean her days away and watch the clouds go by through the cracks of wood in the wall. Adele loved this girl as her own, she would give her gifts and sweets the likes which she had never tasted before; while Mademoiselle was gone Adele would sneak in and play all sorts of games with her, hide and seek, tag, and made up games too. When Mademoiselle would return she would have to go back to cleaning, collecting money and dreaming of what the outside was like; so magical it seemed to her, "How can there be a place outside of these walls." she would think to herself constantly, "what does grass, rain, and dirt feel like?" Adele was talking to a man who she was planning on sleeping with to get money, she too herself had fallen to the bottom. Mademoiselle Barten was walking around the brothel still seeing it as dirty as ever, looking for her child she found her staring through a small sliver in the wall, " What are you doing!" she screamed making the small child jump and hold the broom to her body in defense; she immediately started to sweep the floor again, just as the broom was snatched out of her hands, "You have gotta learn to do your job little missy!" she yelled and threw her on the floor as she started to kick and slap the poor child; as people saw what was happening some laughed, some left. Adele ran over to the two and pushed Barten off of her daughter, the small child latched herself onto Adeles dress crying and breaking down making both of their clothes damp, "What are you doing?! You have just attacked your own daughter!" she screams not giving her a chance to say anything back before taking her upstairs to clean her off. She carried her like a babe to her bed, which was blankets on the hard floor, she took a cloth and cleaned her wounds, she was hurt very bad, her knees were cut, her face was bruised and her lip was bleeding.  She started to cry into her small fragile hands, "come, Mon Cheri don't cry I am here," she said as she wiped her tears away, "After tonight, I will never let her hurt you again, my sweet little Lorelei," Adele hugged Lorelei until she started to cry herself thinking of how her poor child was being treated. She grabbed Loreleis face, "tomorrow I am taking you far away from here, far far away, somewhere no one will ever hurt you, you won't have to clean ever again, and I will always be there to protect you," she said in a determined voice, "You promise?" she whispered," I promise," she whispered back. She hugged her until she finally had to get up to leave and prepare; she walked downstairs crossing paths with Mademoiselle Barnet, "What has gotten into you, Adelle? You had no right taking that whore away from me!" she yelled, Adele stopped in her tracks, turned around to meet her face, "You don't deserve a daughter like her you ignorant slut!" she spat as she slapped her. Barnet pushed Adele to the ground slamming the back of her head on to a chair, Barnet started hitting Adele as she tried to free herself from underneath her large body. Some men came in a few moments later breaking them apart, "You're going to regret what you've done tonight Mademoiselle Adele!" she finished as Adele walked out of the brothel. Lorelei watched from the top of the stairs, tears coming from her soft and no longer pure sight, the depths of the ocean were in her eyes as the water finally poured out, only slightly showing the green seaweed that was cautiously protected behind her heavy eyelids that so desperately needed to rest.  She slowly tried to make her way back up to her room, but as she stepped onto a creaky floorboard, Mademoiselle Barnet looked up to see her, "I'm not finished with you yet!" she ran up the stairs to catch her, but didn't make it as she ran into a door only closed by a small Lorelei pushing all the weight she had into it. "Open this door right now or else you're going to get hurt worse!" Mademoiselle finally pushed the door open, scratching the back of the girl's heel.  "I-i'm sorry Mademoiselle I didn't tell her anything!" she begged for her to believe her, "Why would you even say that then? you waste of life!" She sneered at her just like a snake would. A man came and closed the door behind Mademoiselle making sure no one else was around before doing so. Screaming, begging, and crying was the only sound coming from inside that room. Adele made her way home, swaying back and forth, almost appearing drunk if it wasn't for the blood coming from the back of her head. She leaned onto a tree and threw up with some blood; once again she got up and started walking her way home. About to collapse once more she felt that she was caught by someone, looking up she met his eyes and opened hers wide, "Monsieur La Mayor!" Adele tried desperately to get up but when she tried she fell on to the ground; Misure La Mayor helped her up, "Monsieur, please don't you don't want to be seen with me," she said almost tearing up, a small laugh came from La Mayor, "Anyone in need shall get help from me." he said without a hint of hesitation, "Thank you Monsieur," she said as they both made their way to her house. Adele walked into her small home which was only a little way from the brothel, "Have a good night Mademoiselle," La Mayor said as he bowed and tilted his hat, she smiled at him, "Good night, Monsieur." She whispered as she headed back into her house being immediately hit with a wave of nausea. she sat down and had some water with a shaky hand doing anything she could to stop her headache. She found some cloth and wrapped it around her wound after cleaning it. "One Day More, how could I ever show my face again, how could I ever face that child again, This witch who seems to know my plan will surely play a felt again, One Day More!" Lorelei sat in the corner of her room swaying back and forth trying to sooth the pain that radiated from her body, careful not to touch parts that were still bleeding or already bruised. She sat and cried into her knees, feeling every bit of shame that was shown on her frail body; looking up at the black abyss of a ceiling, for there was no source of light except the cracks in the door. Wanting to scream, but no sound came out for she knew the pain she would endure if she made a noise, "If I am quiet, I don't get hurt," she recited in her head. Adele walked quickly into the brothel bathroom, keeping her head low as she desperately tried not to be seen. She took the dirty knife that she had brought with her out of her cardigan pocket and looked deep into the mirror; Her breath got heavy and she closed her eyes as she started to cut unevenly; bunches of hair fell into the filthy sink, as it was washed away into the drain. She continued cutting until she had the complexion of a young man, emotionless she seemed, looking at herself. She walked out into the brothel trying to locate Mademoiselle Barnet; When she finally found her she was on the upstairs corridor talking to a man before they both went into her private room. Adele saw this was her chance, she didn't see Lorelei sweeping, "Was she in her room?" she thought; she hastily walked up to the second floor to Loreleis room. Before she opened the door she saw it looked more beaten than usual, slowly she pushed the door open; she only heard the sound of hurried shuffling, "Lorelei?" she called. The small child, immediately knowing that voice, tried to get up and run, but fell and stumbled her way over, crawling the rest of the way to Adeles feet. Silence filled the small room as Adele held the child's face in her hands, bruises around her eyes and forehead and down to her knees; cuts and dried blood running down her nose and arms; And her eyes, her eyes were dark, one filled with blood, the other with no emotion, but sadness and despair as tears came down, no sign of light in sight. Hands now shaking, Adele moved hair out of Loreleis face, almost in a hyperventilating state as she let every tear fall to the floor, staring at a destroyed, gaped little girl who has known nothing, but pain. Both of them stared at each other with tear stains on their face, somehow reading each other's mind. Adele softly picked Lorelei up as she whimpered, and rushed her way downstairs, trying to not draw any attention, she quickly pushed open the door and ran into the cold wrath of winter, holding Loreleis head to her chest in an attempt to keep her warm. Mademoiselle Barnet walked out of her room into the main part of the brothel, she noticed that the child still had not come out of her room to clean yet. Furious she walked into her room, but there was no one there, not a soul, "What is the meaning of this?" She questioned seemingly to no one, "Where has she gone!?" she screamed into the room. The man she was with now stood behind her and caressed her arms, "Who cares if the little brat is gone anyway, it's not like you loved her," he scoffed. Mademoiselle turned around to face him, "It doesn't matter if I loved her or not you idiot, she was my property, and someone took my property away!" she walked away in a huff, knowing well enough that she could not go to the police, for she too would be arrested. She walked to a man sitting out of sight, in the darkest part of the building, surrounded by only a few women and not six, like the rest of the men there, "I have a job for you," she stated, the man laughed, "What kind of job, Mademoiselle?" the man muttered. "Bounty hunting, Monsieur," she snickered, he then gave her a smile that made even Mademoiselle have chills to the bone. She took his hands, "It's my daughter, she was stolen from me, I need you to get her back," The man moved his hands and stood up, "I take my pay up front," he demanded with his hand out, "Twelve hundred pounds," astonished she stared, "I don't have that kind of money, Monsieur!" she pleaded, "is there another way I could pay you back dearly?" She pushed her arms together making her breasts seem bigger than they already were. he scoffed and went to leave, "W-Wait! Please Monsieur!" she chased him and pushed forward a small bag, "Its six hundred, this is as much as I can give you right now, please," he took the bag to make sure it had the amount she had said, "Alright, I'll find your girl, then I get the rest of my payment." He proceeded to walk out, "Of course." she finished Still running she went to the only place she could think of, the church. She stopped at the door and knocked non-stop, only when she checked on Lorelei because she had coughed, "Please, someone help! I have a child with me!" The church door opened, she fell on her knees and started to cry fearing for Loreleis life, "P-pleAsE please h-help her," she quivered barely above a whisper; laying the small limp body on the floor, collapsing next to it, her ankles and hands, blue from the winter wind. The child's pink and blue face and body fair, immensely showing her veins. Both were picked up and brought to beds in the convent. Adele was placed in a bed next to Lorelei, unconscious. Sisters carefully placed warm clothes on the girls' bodies, Lorelei barely opened her eyes when she woke. Eyes darting around the room she was unfamiliar to, when she spotted a sister, just as she started to panic and heavy breath as she realized she could not move her legs or waist, tears coming out as she contorted her face to cry, but still no sound, just pain filled coughing. Sisters quickly at her side to calm her down and soothe her throat, from her grabbing at it, when she felt a touch on her arms she started to thrash and grunt. Being held down made her panic worse as she was scratching at the sister's arms. "Hush, we're trying to help you!" the voices rang above her still holding her, "Release her dear sisters," a deep voice stated, the arms let go just as they grabbed on. Loreleis heavy breathing still continued as the sisters stared at her in the bed, the man walking toward her cautiously sat down next to her, "Be at peace," he made the sign of the cross above her head, the gesture so foreign to her she closed her eyes and held up her fists in a defense position. Gasping as he held his hands down, realizing she was in no immediate danger she relaxed looking to her side; again gasping for air as she saw Adele motionless in the bed next to her. Gaging on air, saliva, and tears she reached to her in the bed , which she couldn't manage; pulling herself to the edge she was caught before she fell on to the ground. Growling at the priest as he held her, he let her go, her throat burning from her airways expanding she dragged herself to the edge of Adele's bed. Legs still a fair shade of blue, she had no kind of bottom movement, she tried to bend her locked knee as she attempted to climb her way up to her friend. Taking her by the sides, a sister lifted her on to the thin, wearing away bed. Moving her way up to Adele she took her hands and cupped her face, trying to feel her heat, she felt nothing. Lorelei took both of Adele's hands and blew hot air into them trying to make her warmer, over and over she did this as the nuns and priest stood aside watching her whine and push on the departed woman's chest continuously getting rougher as she started to punch. A sister left the room crying at watching a girl crying onto her mother's chest, seeing enough the priest carried the girl to a different room as she lay still in his arms as tears flowed down her face. The Hunter knocked onto Adele's door, calmly at first 

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I know its long affffff im so sorry, but let me know if I should do a part 2 and let me know if you liked it 

im also thinking of doing imagines and headcanons and stuff so just let me know lol

[angelsdemonsducks]

Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. And you are loved.

You hold on to that, when there is nothing left.

You don’t regret it, what you do. You face this man, this monster who has stolen your friends, your fledgling family, and you are already so tired, already beaten to hell and back. If you do nothing, he will kill you and all those who you have come to care so desperately for. So you act, and it is a fool’s gamble, and it does not pay off. You know it, you know it as soon as your swords draw blood, as soon as he caves in your ribs, pain bursting through you like the fireworks the circus would sometimes set off in the fading evening light. You can see them now, their colors blooming in the darkened sky, red and blue and white and gold, exploding in your ears and filling you with a pure and innocent joy. When you saw them for the first time, you thought you could die in that moment and be content.

Here is what else you know: you do not want to die.

Once, perhaps, you did. Once, perhaps, after you woke up to dirt filling your mouth and your lungs, after you dragged yourself out of a shallow grave and let the rain wash away the soil and the blood and the empty tears, before you knew what these things were, once, perhaps, you wished you hadn’t. Once, perhaps, when you felt empty and hollow and the words fled from your tongue before you could think to give them voice. Once, when you were nameless, nobody, without a past and without a future, without an identity.

Once, perhaps.

No longer.

You are full, now, full of life and love and joy. You wear bright colors and adorn yourself with shiny things that clang and jingle when you move, and you tell lies and stories as easily as breathing, sometimes easier. You have as many words as there are stars scattered in the sky, and you use them well, filling the space where the void once was, banishing the dark to the corners of your mind where you dare not tread. You play with cards and you give away fortunes and you juggle you swords and make your friends smile. And when, after a too-long day or a drink too many, the hollowness comes creeping back in, you take those smiles and the warmth that floods you and use them to mend the cracks that run underneath your surface.

You do not quite know who you are. Not yet. But you know more than you did at the start, and you are comfortable in your skin.

You thought you had more time to find out. Two years doesn’t seem like enough.

Would you have done more, had you known? That it would be over so soon? Would you have changed a thing? Traded one experience for another? Counted the seconds, the hours, the days more closely? Lived more, learned more, loved more?

You love them. Your friends. Your family. You love them so much. If love could stave off death, you would live two eternities.

You will miss them. You know they will miss you. You hope that no one cries.

Will this body stay dead, you wonder? Will it stay buried? Or will someone else come to fill the empty space, making your body their own? As you replaced the one who was before, perhaps you will be replaced in turn. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, a life come full circle. Perhaps it was a mistake not to seek out your past. Now, faced with the end, you know nothing more than you did at the start. You do not know if a stranger will hijack your skin, ripping away all that was you and making it them, or if you will be food for maggots instead, if you will rot away until nothing remains of you but your bones and two years of snatched time, faded like wilted leaves.

You hope that whoever comes after you, if such a person will be, will take care of your friends. Will cherish them as you did. Will protect them. Will succeed where you have failed.

Two years. It doesn’t seem fair. You had so much more to do. There is an entire world out there that you have not seen, a hundred thousand things that you will never get to do. It came too quickly. You aren’t ready to go.

Dimly, you hear shouting. Your friends. You love your friends. You open your mouth to tell them so, to tell them sorry, to tell them to kick ass and raise hell and to not stop until this bastard is dead and they have reclaimed their own. Your mouth is full of blood, and you choke on it, its poisonous iron tang slipping down your throat and smothering the words into silence, just as they were so long ago.

Two years. Not long ago at all.

You gather your energy and spit your blood, your life, into his face. It feels a little bit like a victory. One last act of defiance.

You defy this world. You have always defied this world, just by existing. You stand firm in the face of whispers and stares, you fly your colors proudly, you hold your head high. What is that? they ask and usher their children away, and you answer: I am myself. You refuse to be anyone different. You defy a world that would call you a monster, that would ask you to change.

You are yourself. No one else.

The night grows darker. Yasha sharpens her sword, her presence beside you strong and steady and familiar. Beau claps you on the back, indignant, grinning. Nott takes a swig from her flask, Jester sketches with a smile, Fjord keeps watch, protective and sure. Caleb lights a fire with words and a gentle snap of his fingers, and his cautious smile lights another, this one under your veins and in your heart.

You thought you’d have more time.

Toya’s voice rises above the crackling flames, soothing the pounding in your ears. Sweet and lilting, mournful and sad, she sings the sun to sleep.

Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. You are loved, and you love in return.

You hold on to that.

Then there is nothing left.

[alltheangstmygifttoyou]

Soulmate AU Part 6

A/N: I lied apperenlty we’re back to shorter snippets. I feel bad for Jester here, a lot. And Noah. But mostly Jester. But things are only going to get worse for her. Damn. I’d hate to be one of my OC’s.

Summery: Jester is a bit paranoid now that Malcolm seemingly out of the blue has stopped teasing her about Noah, so she confronts him, only to be told she’s already met Noah. But she hasn’t, she would know if she had met her soulmate right?

Word Count: 1664

TW: mentioned violence, manipulation

Jester was glad that Malcolm had stopped bringing up Noah, but was suspicious about why. He had been lording it over her that he was going to show her soulmate how much of a bitch she was for weeks, it wasn’t like him to suddenly give up. She was glad the constant reminders had stopped, but it put her on edge. Elena was glaring at her more often, which left her disappointed in a way she could never express. She didn’t really know what she had done so wrong to make them both ignore and glare so much. Despite how pathetic it was their daily passing of insults was the most she got to talk to people. Everyone else avoided her. Jesse also seemed extremely pissed with her, but that wasn’t completely unusual. Maybe trying to bring the two of them together had been too much. She was sure that the two together would make each other happy, if they actually gave each other a chance. They worked well together now when they wanted to rise up against her. If Jesse could just get over the fact that Malcolm was gay and there was a high chance Jesse himself was gay then they would be fine. If it hadn’t been for Mother Jesse never would have thought that way in the first place. He had been so excited when Malcolm had first started writing to him.

Jester sat at Malcolm’s table and waited for both him and Elena to come. If they were going to avoid her she would come to them. Malcolm seemed most upset by the fact that Jesse was homophobic, if Jester could show him that Jesse was trained to be that way and could change maybe he wouldn’t be so upset. It was chemistry and there were only two seats per table, and every table except for Jester’s assigned table was full. The two of them couldn’t switch tables without getting in trouble with the teacher. After a week of being avoided Jester had the perfect plan to get social interaction. She felt pathetic for this. Malcolm and Elena came in together. When they saw Jester sitting in Elena’s stool their eyes narrowed in unison. Jester would bet that they had practiced that.

“Do you want a repeat of last week?” Malcolm growled, but Jester didn’t remember anything happening last week beside teasing about Noah.

“Don’t you mean two weeks ago, and I remember that going a lot worse for you than me.” He had to be talking about when they cornered her with Jesse. That was the only significant thing they had done to her lately. That’s when Malcolm found out about Noah in the first place. Malcolm’s eyes narrowed even further.

“No, I’m talking about last week, when I ripped your bone through your arm,” Malcolm threatened, and Jester was sure it was just a threat. She didn’t remember anything like that happening last week, and it wasn’t the type of thing that one forgot.

“Sure you did, and I’m sure you’d do it in the middle of class too,” she answered and he sputtered. Elena stayed still, her orange eyes staring at Jester completely focused.

“I did! It wasn’t on purpose but it definitely happened. Right after we introduced you to Noah,” Malcolm sounded as confused as Jester felt. Jester crossed her arms and leaned back.

“I’m pretty sure I would remember meeting my soulmate Lockhart. What game are you playing?” She wouldn’t fall for it, she wouldn’t show them how much their teasing had affected her. She wouldn’t act desperate to know. Malcolm’s jaw dropped slightly.

“What game am I playing? What game are you playing! We introduced him to you in this classroom last week! He’s sitting right over there!” Malcolm shouted and Jester looked to the direction he was pointing only to see all of her normal classmates over there, and none of them were named Noah. She shook her head.

“You’re not going to make me act like a fool, I know everyone’s name in here and none of them are Noah.” Apparently her answer wasn’t enough to make him stop as Malcolm was motioning with both his arms in the same direction.

“What the hell Jester, Noah Treviti, blonde boy in the back, green eyes, messy hair. He’s wearing a light blue jacket?” Jester looked over again, but didn’t see anyone of that description. There were just the normal classmates. She looked back at Malcolm and looking into his eyes she could tell he wasn’t lying, but neither was she. Malcolm hadn’t known Noah’s last name before, she wasn’t sure how he would have found out without finding Noah. She looked again, but there was still nothing. She didn’t understand what was going on.

“What does Noah have to do with you apparently ripping a bone from my arm?” She asked, because apparently there was a connection.

“You seriously don’t remember any of that? Oh my God.” Malcolm exclaimed before going over and talking to someone, Jester couldn’t see who. Whoever it was seemed to be arguing with Malcolm, before Malcolm stormed back over without a person. “He won’t come near you, probably because of your little plan together, I bet this is all because of your little plan together.” Malcolm went on while Jester tried to figure out who the hell he had been talking to because she didn’t notice anyone there.

“Elena, I think he’s finally lost it. Malcolm’s gone off the deep end. I don’t even understand his mumbling anymore. Can you decipher this lost man’s words?” She asked the redhead, who had not stopped glaring.

“I don’t think this is a trick Malcolm.” Elena responded, ignoring Jester, who huffed. Apparently Elena had gone crazy too. Malcolm looked at Elena, then behind her to the door, where Jesse was walking in. Malcolm waved him over to which he complied with a sigh.“Did you do something to your sister?” Malcolm asked to which Jesse glared.

“No, last I heard you ripped her arm apart and I thought that was good enough.” Jesse’s response left Jester even more confused. So Jesse said he heard about it, which meant he wasn’t there but the information circulated around school. Which meant it happened and she just honestly didn’t remember it.

“She doesn’t remember,” Elena explained and Jesse rolled his eyes.

“She’s faking obviously. Now if you two gullible idiots are done wasting my time I’m going to sit down,” and he did. Mr. Workshire walked in and Jester moved back to her seat. She had gotten a conversation but she didn’t feel better. She spent all of class looking around for someone she didn’t recognize, for someone with messy blonde hair and green eyes but she didn’t notice anyone. She didn’t raise her hand to answer questions and while she did do the lab she didn’t do it well. The teacher seemed to notice her lack of enthusiasm and put a hand on her shoulder, one that stayed there long enough to make Jester uncomfortable, but she was too busy to say anything about it. When class was over and Jester packed up her things Jesse came over dragging behind a pale skinny boy with messy blonde hair.

“Noah, Jester, can I go now? She was obviously faking this whole time.” Jesse called out, while the boy who was apparently Noah seemed to be on the verge of tears. Malcolm separated Jesse’s tight grip from Noah’s arm and the two boys got into an argument. Jester didn’t listen, just examined the boy. She hadn’t noticed the boy all of class. He didn’t look familiar at all. His eyes sparkled a light green that reminded Jester of the moss covering a swamp. Maybe that comparison came to mind because the boy was now crying.

“Jesse, you made the tall boy cry, I think you should say sorry.” Jester called out, interrupting the argument. Jesse mumbled something before stomping off while Malcolm put his hands on Noah’s shoulders, who clearly tried to pull away, but Malcolm kept his hands there.

“Like you weren’t the one to make him cry Jester, what did you do to him?” Jester threw her head back at Malcolm’s exclamation only to drop it forward and rub her temples. She was starting to get a headache.

“I have never met him before, what could I have possibly done?” She asked and Malcolm began to rub the boy’s shoulder, who had begun to cry harder.

“Pretending you’ve never met him is probably what’s upsetting him.” Elena explained and Jester sighed.

“But I have never seen him before, what do you want from me? For all I know this is some random kid you’re pretending is Noah.” The two of them stared at her unbelieving before Elena took out a pen and drew on Noah’s face. Jester felt a tingle on her face and knew that it was true. She wanted to say oh but that would be like admitting she was wrong.

“He doesn’t seem to like that you’re touching him.” Jester mumbled and Malcolm went to say something when Noah let out a particularly loud sob and pulled out of Malcolm’s grasp and ran. Malcolm glared at her and went after the boy while Elena lingered, looking at Jester before grabbing both her and Malcolm’s things and walking away. Jester spent the rest of the day wondering about Noah, and arguing with herself whether to write with him. When she went to bed that night she couldn’t sleep, still wanting to grab her skin washable marker and write to Noah. But she was worried he was still in a dangerous situation, that he was crying so hard because the three heroes were putting him in harm's way by having the two of them interact. She was knocked out of these thoughts by the creak of her door opening. There stood Noah, she smiled at him, but he was still frowning.

[soartfullydone]

A Deal of Knives and Ash

I posted this first chapter of my self-insert ACOTAR AU about a year ago and just wanted to update it with new canon names, characters, and the like. But if you’re reading this expecting Book 2 and 3 stuff, don’t. I’m ignoring all of that and writing about actual Fae stuff now. Book 1 characterizations or bust.

Melody could say, with utmost certainty, that she despised the Children of the Blessed. She wouldn't even be in her current position if it weren't for them, wouldn't even be in Prythian of all places. If she hadn't needed somewhere to go, if the timing had been just a little different, if they hadn't caught her so lost and desperate.

If she hadn't been so desperate to begin with. Children of the Blessed. Melody scoffed. Children of the Cow-eyed Fools was more like it. 

She wished she could say the same of her faerie masters, but after spending close to a year in their company, Melody found they were neither cow-eyed nor foolish. Instead of being the merciful, benevolent gods their idolaters promised, they were cruel, capricious, and unforgiving. They were also unfailingly arrogant, and as much as their behavior irritated her, it also worked to her advantage. Still, she despised the Fae with equal fervor behind her mask of cool indifference. All save one. "Quick! Don't fall behind now!" a faerie with skin of gnarled wood and tendrils of tiny leaves for hair half-hissed, half-barked at her. "I thought we were trying for discretion. I'm right here, Lyra. No need to shout." "You picture me for a fool? I know how you like to wander." Lyra grabbed her gently by the wrist, not letting Melody leave her side. "Cauldron boil me! The drums have already started." "You sure no one will mess with the horses?" Melody glanced back to where they were left tethered, barely discernible in the darkness. "I'm not worried about the horses. They can take care of themselves." "Implying that I can't?" Melody’s lips quirked to the side wryly. "I was asking more for escape plans than anything." Lyra laughed under her breath. "Of course. I should have known." They ascended a sloping hill, crouching low to peer over its crest at their surroundings. Bonfires were scattered across the dark green landscape like stars and gathered around them were faeries—so many faeries—both High Fae and otherwise. Melody's eyes strained as she took them all in, her senses assaulted as she saw through glamour after glamour. A pounding started in her head, matching the beat of the drums in the distance. "We can always go back." Lyra's voice was kind and deliberate. "I shouldn't have brought a human here, and on Calanmai of all days. It was a mistake." Melody smoothed her scowl of pain into a steady, impassive mask. "I'm fine. Besides, we had to come, and I didn't ride for five days, earning myself a sore ass, for nothing."

"Just don't get discovered, or else you'll be wishing a sore ass was the worst of your problems." Lyra's eyes trailed guiltily to Melody's back, where they both knew a wicked scar rested along a shoulder blade. Melody pretended not to notice. With a huff, Lyra straightened her spine, businesslike. She leveled a cool stare at her mortal friend. "Let's run through it once more." Melody nodded. "You gather information on the Spring Court for the little lordlings while I find our favorite plant." "And remember: pull the root. It's useless otherwise." “It’ll be a full-grown tree here, though, right? Not the measly shrub we have.” Melody grinned. "Are you sure you're not just saying that because you love to eat the roots?" "Because everyone knows that all faeries have a steady diet of roots, twigs, and berries. Don't sass me, mortal." Lyra swatted her playfully before making eye contact and holding it. "Listen to me. I used the last of the blossoms to mask your scent, but your body's grown used to it. It's weaker now. Up close, anyone will be able to faintly smell your humanness, enough to make them look at you twice. Don't let that happen. Do not make eye contact or speak to anyone. Keep moving. The night's festivities should distract them." "Should?" Melody whispered back, finally feeling trepidation coil like a viper in her stomach. "Is the Spring Court's Fire Night like Autumn's?" "It used to be worse, but the new High Lord is very different from his father. The crowd, however, is still relatively untamed. And there are many beings here who shouldn't be." The pair watched the crowd shift, more and more Fae gravitating towards a cave entrance in the distance, away from the estate. The drums pounded louder, more urgently. Melody felt the pull, but steeled herself. Resisted. It was only magic, nothing she hadn't encountered before at the Autumn Court. Slowly, the crowd before them began to thin out. It was as safe to descend as it would ever be. Lyra spoke as Melody threw her cloak's hood over her hair, shielding her features. "Go back to the horses when you're done. If I finish first, I'll wait for you there." "So long as the High Lord of the Spring Court doesn't select you as his Maiden." Melody's voice slid out teasingly. Lyra elbowed her in retaliation. "You're so funny. Have I told you how funny you are? Next time my Lord Beron requires a court jester for entertainment, I'll send you his way." "Oh, but I'd hate to take that position away from his sons." Melody sobered as she looked over at her faerie guide. "Be careful down there, Lyrie." Lyra smiled fondly at the nickname. "You, too, dear one. May the Blessed Mother grant us good fortune tonight." Together, they rose and walked down the hill, the faerie heading toward the crowd congregating at the mouth of the cave, and the human toward the gardens of the Spring Court estate. The latter did not get far.

It was worse up close. The drums seemed to pound into her very soul, calling to her, determining even how her heartbeat pulsed. For every step Melody took towards the Spring Court estate, she seemed to take two steps back toward the cave and the faeries waiting there.

Cheap faerie tricks, she groused, once again shaking herself from whatever hypnosis the drums and the magic in the air stirred within her. She’d handled worse. Even with the headache, she would still keep it handled. She had a mission to complete. They couldn’t return to the Autumn Court without at least the flowers from the plant. Melody could’ve laughed to herself at the irony, for it was the Flowering Ash that kept her identity as a human secret from even the sharp-eyed nobility of the Autumn Court. No wonder the Fae had burned all the human’s ash trees across the border; too much of it could be used against them.

But while the Autumn Court’s Flowering Ash tree was small, wilted, and thoroughly harvested, it was said that the Spring Court harbored their own deep in the gardens, behind a stone wall, and that tree was large and thriving still.

Melody pulled herself from her musings, only to find in her distraction that she’d wandered—not toward the gardens—but toward the cave entrance yet again. Cursing, she spun on her heel, ignoring her muggy thoughts and the hostile eyes she felt on her when a voice like liquid velvet spoke in her ear.

“Oh, my. Imagine a mortal all the way out here on Calanmai. Are you trying to be part of the buffet?”

And despite Lyra telling her otherwise, Melody turned to look at who spoke, at who had seen through her deception, felt compelled to do so. Behind her, standing far too close, was a Fae who was so beautiful it hurt to look at him. Seeing through his glamour, Melody was mentally slammed with the sight of his true form, of the pale skin that shown as bright as moonlight, of the eyes that glowed like blue-violet stars, of the tendrils of darkness that seemed as much a living part of him as his growing grin.

To give herself some peace, she willed herself to be taken in by his glamour, but the moment she did, she felt adrift. The magic around her was too much, too alluring. She had a beautiful stranger before her, and she didn’t want to leave.

No. No, that wasn’t right. She needed to leave. Now.

“Not hardly,” she answered him, despite everything telling her to run and run fast. She edged around him, aware of how they both followed the other’s movements. “Besides, I’m certain I’m not to anyone’s…taste.”

Take the hint. Walk away from the evasive, flighty girl.

The stranger took a step forward, and Melody swore it was a prowl, made worse when he smiled at her. “And a presumptuous one, too. There are all sorts here, you know.”

An alarm went off in Melody’s head about what he said, but before she could deduce why, she felt herself trip on something. The stranger readily caught her by the arm.

“Ah, mind that root—there we are. Since I already have your arm, I might as well escort you around, don’t you think?” It was less a question and more a seduction.

Though upright, Melody still felt unbalanced. That root had not been there. He hadn’t even been close enough to grab her, and then suddenly he was.

Normally, she would pull away from him immediately, except she noticed one very important thing. While she remained in this Fae’s sphere of influence, the other faeries who watched her with their keen eyes, gleaming smiles, and gnarled features gave them both a wide berth.

“Oh, yes, I suppose you might as well,” she replied flippantly. Feeling uncharacteristically combative, she muttered under her breath, full well knowing he could hear, “Though I doubt you’re concerned with what I think.”

His condescending smile was answer enough. Melody took in the shadows around him, how even with the glamour he still simultaneously blended into the night and bent it to his will. “So what sort are you?”

“What sort, she asks?” He laughed, and it wasn’t kind. The sound sent a rush of heat through her the same time it chilled her heart. “Do you want me to sit you down and tell you the Cauldron story, or shall you figure it out like a clever little girl?”

She might have tried to trip him while they walked. What was wrong with her? She never attempted this kind of behavior with the Fae of the Autumn Court. Never.

“I think you’re the ‘answers questions with a question’ sort.” She narrowed her eyes at him, saying with finality, “Night Court.” It was obvious by his state of dress alone, but as for the kind of Fae he was…

Because she wanted to wipe that smirk from his face, she said, “Perhaps you’re an elf, it would certainly explain your rudeness. Or a Banshee with how your voice is grating on my nerves. Or maybe you’re some manner of wisp or spirit designed to lead me astray. Or perhaps…”

An idea flashed in her mind. Could he be High Fae? If he were, he would have killed her by now. She dismissed the idea immediately, because humoring the alternative caused her need to flee to be almost unbearable. Because if he was, and he hadn’t killed her for her disrespect, then that would mean that he was planning worse…

“Or perhaps you’re nothing so impressive at all.” Melody wished she felt as confident as she sounded.

“Or perhaps,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I’m something much, much better.” He pulled back from her, and the smirk returned, his eyes flashing with something mischievous and cruel. “In any case, you better hope so. Otherwise, these revelers might be tempted to get a bit too greedy with you.”

Aren’t you being a bit too greedy with me?

Aloud, she said, “They certainly seem to think you’re something. They’re staring but not coming any closer.” The stranger, for all his threats, walked with her with his lean frame between her and the other faeries. He wasn’t drawing her farther into the revelry, but neither was he leading her completely out of it.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, trying to mask her features back to indifference.

“Would you bolt if I said somewhere private?” He hummed, finding amusement in something she couldn’t quite perceive. “No, I am escorting you away from becoming the snack table.”

The niggling suspicion—of something not being right with the conversation—bothered her.

“How generous of you.” She smiled, and it was all teeth. “But why? What do you want? I’ve never known your kind to do anything for free.”

Not even Lyra had taken her under her wing solely out of the goodness of her heart. The scar on her back attested to that fact.

“Oh, can it be? You’re not entirely ignorant? Half an education is a charming thing.” His eyes glinted with mirth, and Melody resisted the urge to stab them. “Since you ask, no, we rarely do anything for free, and I especially don’t see the point in it. Be assured I will be bringing this up later,” he ended with a satisfied purr.

Melody dug her heels in, twisting her wrist out of his grip. Brief surprise may have flickered across his face, but amusement quickly followed as he took in her defiant stance, the one that said she wasn’t moving, not without significant force.

“No. I asked for nothing from you. And quid pro quo is something I only humor with friends.”

She didn’t know this stranger well, but she sensed that she’d finally angered him. A long pause settled over their conversation. Then, he moved, but her senses blurred. Was he stepping closer or drifting?

“Oh? You’d rather I demand something of you right now?”

“I’d rather have a choice. It’s more gratifying that way.”

The human stayed steady, with considerable effort. Her smile held no warmth or humor. She knew the gossip, and what was the point in knowing if she didn’t use it? “Is that what you have to do? Force your company on people? The Night Court is feared, but not exactly loved, is it?”

He ignored her jibes and stalked closer. “Choices are not for girls who come to Calanmai.”

It was time to leave.

“What a convincing lie! I’m impressed,” she said with false delight. “But you always have a choice, and I’m always up for challenging convention.”

She turned from him, fully intending to walk, not run, to the Spring Court estate, ready to show any faerie pursuer just how vicious a human girl could be on Fire Night. Above all, she didn’t care if the beautiful Night Court bastard followed her or not.

He let her go.

But his voice called after her from writhing shadows, dripping with caresses and amusement once more. “All by yourself? Does that mean I should come back later for seconds?”

“I don’t care what you do. But the fact that you think there’s going to be something left of me after all is positively moving.”

She broke away from her stalking shadow, discreetly feeling for the weapons Lyra had given her, and ran through the conversation in her head. Something still bothered her about the whole thing, something he’d said early on. When she recalled the part where he called her “presumptuous, too,” she came to a halt, realizing.

That Fae could read her thoughts.

And he’d gotten in when she’d accepted his glamour.

The knowledge froze her to her bones, like being held under ice water. But her mind sharpened at last. The spell of Fire Night and her headache vanished as she refused to be fooled, as she closed the door to her mind, a door not made from solid iron, but of mighty ash.

Proud, she turned her head and found a spot where the shadows appeared darker. She snarled in its direction then marched away.

Despite what the stranger implied, no other faerie crossed her path. Lyra had been right.

The night’s activities proved to be far worthier distractions.

"Gathering these on Calanmai turned out to be a good thing, even if seeing Lucien almost gave me a heart attack," Melody noted one morning in Lyra's quarters. "One plant lasts us for four weeks. And it's more potent." Lyra bustled around, still getting ready for the day ahead. "I bet that was a fright, but none of the young masters have any reason to visit Spring. Only the disgraced son. I’m not even certain if they would survive it. But it'll be good once we host our own Fire Night. The plants will be restored, and we can harvest our own supply again. No need to go back to the Spring Court." Melody caught the edge of trepidation in her voice. "I told you to stop worrying. That Fae isn't going to suddenly be lurking around a corner to snatch me away. He doesn't know what court I'm from. We didn't even exchange names." "That's what's worrying me. The way you described him, on top of him being Night Court of all things." Before Melody could reassure her, another faerie poked his head into Lyra's room. "We need someone to send a tea tray up." "Fine," Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes skyward. The faerie vanished, and Lyra gestured to Melody. "I should have never let you make the tea that day. She can't get enough of it. Well? Why are you still here? You know what to do." She did. Prepare the tea the way the Lady of the Autumn Court liked, deliver the tray unseen to her rooms, and come straight back. Nothing more. "How do I look?" Melody asked, wanting to make sure her disguise was properly in place. "Hmm." Lyra gazed at her haphazard appearance critically, then promptly scooped up a layer of dust and dirt from the floor and smacked Melody in the face with it. The human flinched back, sputtering and coughing as a satisfied smile curved Lyra's lips. "There. No one will want to look at you now." A final cough escaped Melody. "Thanks very much."

A few months later, Melody woke up on her small, makeshift cot in Lyra's quarters alone. Not unusual. Lyra sometimes had to manage the kitchen staff earlier in the mornings than her typical schedule called for. But there was something different about this morning, something wrong. It was too quiet. Tentatively, Melody slowly uncoiled herself and rose. Rotating her stiff joints, she made her way over to the entrance and leaned out of the doorway, taking in the corridor on either side. Empty. Not a single faerie came or went, and the air was dead. No magic to be sensed. The human didn't know what time it was, having no windows to consult on the matter, but it felt later than usual. Certainly later than Lyra ever allowed her to sleep in. She turned back to Lyra's rooms, shut the door, and walked over to the small table where they took their meals. That's when she saw the hastily scrawled note written in Lyra's curvy hand. Melody snatched it from the table, her worry cascading into a heart-racing fear as she read: It's finally happened. The fifty years are up, and the Spring Lord did not break his curse. She's decided to call us to her. All of the courts have been summoned Under the Mountain. I do not know why or when we will return, if we will return. I’m sorry I did not wake you, but I didn’t want you involved, and everything is happening so fast. Take the rest of the Flowering Ash and flee—as far as you can. Travel by daylight, cross the border, and go south. She means only death for you and your world. I'm so sorry.

All she felt was cold. Amarantha, the Deceiver, had actually won. Prythian was fully under her control, just like the lordlings had wanted.

Melody clenched the note in her hand, fell back into her cot, and tried not to panic.

It wasn’t working.

No, she had to think. Assess. It took five days to get to the heart of the Spring Court by horse, another three days to reach the border from there. And then she would have to find an opening, and there was no knowing how long that would take if she wound up near a part of the Wall without a breach. Melody only had a week left on her current batch of lotion before it would be used up. She would need to make more. She’d watched Lyra make it from the flowers and bark of the Flowering Ash tree (while eating any roots that could be harvested) dozens of times.

Melody remained in the Autumn Court for another three weeks, and she still hadn’t perfected it. In fact, the concoction never turned out right at all.

A month passed. Then another. By the end of the second month, she’d given up on making the lotion from the Flowering Ash, having already ruined most of the flowers. No one ever came or went into the Court, and Melody became braver and braver, roaming into the nobility’s rooms, stealing weapons, food, clothes, anything she needed before returning to the sanctuary of Lyra’s quarters in the lower levels. Every morning she woke up, she told herself that this would be the day she would leave, that she would brave the wilds of Prythian, that with everyone Under the Mountain, there would be no safer time.

She stayed for another month, convinced that Lyra would return and that things would return to normal.

And return, the Autumn Court did, but it wasn’t Lyra who found her.

It was the Eldest Son.

Eris.

He found her outside at one of the training grounds. Melody hadn’t run three steps before he was upon her, hoisting her in the air by the throat.

“What is more human filth doing here?”

She gasped for air, unable to answer, unable to explain, or beg, or whatever she had to do to save her life. He wasn’t built like a mountain, but he held her in the air effortlessly. He threw her down to the ground like a ragdoll.

Melody tried to crawl away, to get to her feet, but he planted a foot on her back and held her, crushed her, in place. She didn’t dare move when she heard a blade being drawn, didn’t react when he spoke again.

“This seems familiar.” His tone was cruelly nostalgic, like he was recalling a fond memory.

The scar on her back seemed to burn. Despite everything, it gave her the courage to speak.

“Please. I don’t—”

A blade slashed down, grazing her cheek the same time another voice cried out.

“My Lord, please have mercy!”

Lyra.

Melody heard more than saw Lyra appear and throw herself at Eris’ feet, could barely make out the faerie’s explanations through the rushing in her ears.

She jumped, though, when she heard the slap and felt the dust kick up when Lyra hit the ground next to her.

They were attracting an audience. Autumn Court faeries were murmuring, some laughing. She heard one say, “Another human? It’s an infestation.” Then came a retort. “But we wouldn’t be back home if it weren’t for—”

The faerie was silenced when Eris hurled a knife into his gut. The rest of the faeries took that as their cue to leave. When the area cleared and all that could be heard was Lyra’s sobs and Melody’s own stilted breathing, that’s when Melody knew through the cotton in her mind. Both she and Lyra were going to die here.

Very shortly.

Before Eris could deal out his punishment, a mocking laugh as dark as midnight and as smooth as silk broke the silent tension. Melody finally felt her numbed shock give way to shuddering fear at last.

She knew that laugh.

“What a sight. Did you know I was coming, that you prepared a little show for me?”

“Now is not a good time, Lord Rhysand.” Eris’ controlled posture slipped into acute rigidness. It took a moment to realize that he wasn’t fearful, but angry. “If you’re here to see my father, I’m afraid he has yet to return to court.”

The beautiful stranger, the one she had met at the Spring Court, the one she had once sworn would never find her, appeared in her line of vision. Tendrils of darkness still coiled around him, blending in with his dark, fitted, resplendent clothes, and though he gave the same cool smile, Melody knew there was something different about him.

She couldn’t explain it, but he seemed freer. Power rolled off of him, like his body could no longer contain it. He was utterly relaxed and unquestionably invincible.

Like nothing could touch him and live.

She hadn’t detected this from him before. He had felt dangerous, certainly, but this was something entirely different.

What had happened during those three months Under the Mountain?

“As it turns out, you’re the one I’m looking for.” Though the stranger—Rhysand—spoke to the Eldest Son, he turned his gaze on Melody.

Eris did the same. “Human vermin found its way into my court.” He sneered at Lyra. “And this traitor helped.”

“I see. Now how could that be when the Autumn Court is so well-guarded?”

Melody felt Rhysand’s gaze on her, and she willed her mind blank, willed anything anyway that could incriminate Lyra further. Risking a glance at him, she saw his brows furrow with sudden surprise. His gaze flicked to Lyra, and by the grimace on her face, Melody knew Rhysand had been successful with reading the faerie’s mind.

But not hers.

“Flowering Ash,” Rhysand announced, half-surprised, half-intrigued. “They created an ointment to mask her human scent, then masqueraded her as a servant.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“A year and a half.”

Eris laughed, and its mirth promised nothing good. “What clever rats we have. I can only hope you’re as clever with your screams.” He pressed harder into Melody’s back until she cried out. “I admit, I’ve been in a terrible mood lately. Perhaps this is just what I need. Permitted, of course, that the High Lord of the Night Court allows me such an indulgence before we discuss business?”

High Lord of the Night Court? Melody thought dazedly, her despair mounting with each passing second. All that time, she had been talking with…?

And he hadn’t killed her, which meant he was planning something worse.

“By all means. Only—wait a moment.” Rhysand crouched down in front of Melody and forced her to look up at him with a hand under her chin. Her muscles and spine strained, close to breaking. She watched those sensuous lips curve, watched as something worse formed itself in his violet eyes. “Mmm, I thought so. I was hoping we’d run into each other again, love.”

“Why am I not surprised that you know this human? You seem to know all the mortal women lately, my lord.” No one could miss the accusation in Eris’ voice.

“Blame that love-struck fool, Tamlin. He seems to draw them. I met her at Spring’s Fire Night, only now I know why she was really there.” He smiled at her, and it was slightly wild. Melody recoiled back, but his hand grasping her face squeezed, holding her in place. “And it seems I can finally collect my debt for saving you, can’t I?”

He released her and stood in a smooth motion, facing the Eldest Son. “I don’t care what you do with your traitor, but the human belongs to me.”

The amusement died on his face, replaced by cold fury. “You cannot be serious.”

“You dare question a High Lord of Prythian? A High Lord restored of all his powers, no less?” Rhysand’s laugh was a rumble of dark promise. “I wouldn’t.”

Eris stared the High Lord down, then kicked Melody in the side, like a spoiled child does a toy after being told he has to share. “Have her, then.”

Rhysand looked bored with the whole display, but the line of his shoulders had gone taut. He watched dispassionately as Melody rose on her side on one hand, her eyes only on her faerie friend.

“But Lyra—”

“Don’t worry about me,” the faerie hissed back, her eyes dry now that it appeared Melody wouldn’t die by Autumn hands. Though her dark skin was much paler.

And because it seemed worse to go with the High Lord of the Night Court than to die by one of the Autumn Lord’s sons, Melody cried out, “I will take it!”

The grounds froze. Melody felt every eye on her. “Whatever punishment you intend to give Lyra, I’ll take it all.”

Behind her, Rhysand heaved a sigh. Lyra called her a fool. But Eris considered her thoughtfully. Then he smiled.

“It seems we’ve reached an interesting situation, Lord Rhysand.”

“More like an idiotic one.” He waved a careless hand. “Her life belongs to me. Death is off the table. But exile is obvious.”

“Obviously.” Eris didn’t roll his eyes, but he looked like he wanted to.

Rhysand appeared to ponder something, then he said, “Five lashes should do nicely.”

“We’re agreed.”

And Melody watched in horror as a whip appeared in Eris’ hand, did nothing as he hauled her to her feet only to tie her by the wrists to a post in the center of the grounds. She jerked in fear when she felt him rip the back of her tunic in half, revealing her undergarments and her scar.

“Ah, I thought so. We’ve punished this one before.” He looked back at Lyra, a knowing glance. “The way it’s curved here. Wayward. Like it reached an unintended target. She took that for you, didn’t she? That’s why you sheltered her. Why you betrayed your court.”

Lyra, who was now on her feet, clenched her fists, the muscles of her arms protruding slightly. Melody had always believed that Lyra was a warrior at one time. It was only her discipline that held her back.

Melody faced forward as Eris’ footsteps receded. Her back was to the three other occupants on the grounds. She tried to control her shaking. She failed. So she tried to clear her mind, but memories of her first scar resurfaced with a vengeance. She’d gotten it from the High Lord’s second son, who’d been drunk on his own cruelty, punishing servants as it pleased him. Phantom pain rippled down her scar, and no matter how she lied to herself, she couldn’t believe that the next five lashes would hurt less.

So she tried to withdraw into herself, to go to a place so deep in her mind that she wouldn’t register the pain.

She failed. When the first lash tore diagonally across her back, she nearly fell to her knees, her screams echoing across the grounds. The second slash occurred a hair’s breadth away from the first, and she collapsed, her legs unable to hold her. Tears fell like a torrent down her face, and she nearly tore her throat with her scream when the third slash crossed the other two.

All of it was deliberate. He was aiming to cause as much pain as possible, to make the healing process as difficult as possible.

The fourth slash cut down her lower back, and the fifth followed close behind, tracing the outline of her old scar, reopening it. It hurt so badly she forgot to scream, didn’t have a voice left to scream with. Her body, her pants, everything felt soaked with blood. The ropes bit into her wrists as she hung limply from them, but she didn’t feel it. It was nothing compared to the fire that raged all over her back.

Just as she relaxed and felt like congratulating herself on weathering the punishment, the whip snapped into the air and a sixth slash was cut deep into her, and Melody found that she could still scream.

“That was six, by my count.” Rhysand’s voice cut through the air, somehow even sharper than the whip could ever hope to be.

“Forgive me, Lord Rhysand. I must have gotten carried away.”

Melody felt a brief flair of smugness as Rhysand dismissed him—in his own court, no less—when movement at her wrists caused her to lift her head. She found Lyra there, tearing through the ropes. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was hoarse. Lyra shushed her, shaking her head.

“Can’t believe you did that. Fool! What were you thinking? You and your stubborn, human heart. Idiots, both of you!”

One of her wrists fell free then the other, and Melody found herself falling forward, unable to find the strength to stop. Lyra caught her by the shoulders. Melody felt her hands tense and could only surmise that Rhysand had approached.

“That was quite a spectacle. I’d forgotten how fun humans could be.”

“Please, Lord Rhysand! Show some godforsaken mercy and heal her!”

Rhysand tutted. “You know how this works, Lyra, dear. She must agree to my terms first.”

“She’s barely conscious!”

“All the more reason to make her decision quickly. These wounds didn’t kill when they were inflicted, as agreed, but they will if remained untreated.”

Melody raised her head and rested her forehead against the post. Half delirious, she mumbled, “What decision?”

“For saving your life on Calanmai, your life belongs to me now, to do with as I wish. You can either live in my court as you did here, nothing more than a slave—” He cut himself off with a laugh. “Excuse me, a servant. Or you can live almost like an equal. All I would need from you in exchange is for you to perform some tasks for me, whenever I ask, without question.”

Melody fought to follow him. Still the fire on her back burned, reminding her the clock was ticking. “What kind of tasks? And what use could you have for human vermin, anyway?”

“I don’t know about human vermin, but perhaps I have use for a girl who can see through glamours, resist faerie magic, and live among them for over a year without detection. The thought of all you must have heard while here, where they thought you were one of them, where they thought you were loyal. The possibilities are delicious.”

“…For how long?”

He picked a stray piece of lint off his jacket. “Until I grow bored with you.”

His face—his beautiful, merciless face—swam in her vision. He’d given her answers, which only gave her more questions. But one thing was clear, at least to her.

“Lyra comes, too.”

A flash of teeth. “Of course.”

“Not as a servant. As a guard or—or whatever she wants, so long as it’s her decision.”

Lyra clutched her tighter in warning, but the damage was done.

“Such care you have for each other. One would almost say you were lovers.”

Melody would later blame the pain. “It’s called a best friend, you patronizing jackass.” Lyra sucked in a breath, but Rhysand only laughed.

“So, do we have a deal?”

Melody would have drawn it out, just to make him work for it, but the pain was too great. “Yes.”

“Wonderful,” he purred, then his hand spread across her back. Melody threw her head back and screamed as her pain reached new heights. It felt like all of her wounds were being ripped open wide, like he was filling them to the brim with salt. Then, they were knitting themselves back together, slowly, the creeping, unnatural feeling almost as terrible as the pain itself. Then it was over.

“I do believe this is my best work yet,” Rhysand said, languid with satisfaction.

Melody opened her eyes and felt a drop of sweat fall from her face as she craned her neck to see what he was talking about.

The tops of her shoulders no longer sported white, unblemished skin. Whorls and sharp lines resembling Flowering Ash blossoms and knife blades rested there in dark navy ink, and Melody could only assume her whole back featured the rest of the design. Reaching behind her, she determined that she had no scars—even her old one had been completely healed.

The human felt like she was out of her body, like she was observing her life’s events from someone else’s eyes. Disjointed, detached, she watched Lyra kneel and swear an oath of fealty to the Night Court and its High Lord, demanding instant death if she wavered. A tattoo spread, covering the palm of her right hand after her pledge, sealing the contract.   Lyra exchanged a glance with Melody as the young woman rose to stand beside her, the latter clutching her torn tunic across the front of her body. Not even phantom pains disturbed her. In truth, Melody didn’t feel anything at all. Was she in shock again?

“Come.” Rhysand turned on his heel, expecting them to follow. “It’s time to return to my court. I’ve been away from home for far too long.”

“Can’t we stop for—”

“No,” Rhysand interrupted Lyra. “We cannot. Now, stand close to me.”

Melody watched as pure darkness spread from Rhysand’s feet and quickly climbed higher, soon covering all of them. They were pulled under, and Melody drew back, taking in a quick breath when total darkness blocked out every shred of light that there was. She flinched when she felt a cool hand on the small of her bare back, but Rhysand didn’t remove it. Instead, he began tracing the lines of her tattoo.

It didn’t reassure her. Instead, she kept thinking about what her tasks could possibly entail, what the feel of his hand touching her so familiarly could potentially promise.

Until I grow bored with you.

When the shadows fell, they were somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere dark, but wholly, unquestionably beautiful.

“Welcome to the Night Court,” Rhysand breathed into her ear, pride coating every syllable of his voice.

Melody took in the palace before her, the snow-capped mountains, and the gorgeous starry sky all spread out like a panorama around them, and agreed that Rhysand had much to be proud of.

The Autumn Court, for all its splendor, never stole her breath like this.

As they entered the palace, Rhysand turned to Lyra.

“You’re dismissed.”

She straightened, threw one last glance at Melody, then strode away. Melody watched her, wondered how she knew where to go. Before she could ask, two shadows broke from a dark corner and coiled toward them. When the shadows reached them, they took the forms of two women. Were these Rhysand’s servants? His shadow harem?

“Take this one upstairs. Get her cleaned and dressed.” Rhysand pushed Melody forward towards them.

She wheeled around, still holding what was left of her tunic. “This one?” She glared at him. “You offer me a deal, and you don’t even know my name?”

Rhysand shrugged, like it didn’t matter, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I forgot to ask. Very well, what’s your name, darling?”

She stayed stonily silent.

His lifted a brow, and she could tell he was frustrated. “Fine, then. If you don’t want to tell me your name, I’ll just have to call you my pet.”

“It’s Melody.”

“Mmm.” He moved toward her with effortless grace, viewing her with half-lidded eyes. “Melody.” Rhysand said it with the kind of reverence lovers reserved for each other, like suddenly it was the only word that mattered. Chills erupted down her spine, down her arms. She told herself it was because she was standing in a palace resting on top of a snowy mountain, at night, and she was half-naked. “I think I still prefer ‘my pet.’ ”

Melody glared at him until the shadow servants dragged her away, his mocking laugh following her.

Honestly, she’d had better baths. The shadow servants weren’t what she’d call tender.

But she would gladly go back to the harshest bathing of her life if it meant that she didn’t have to wear this dress.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That is the rest of it,” one of the servants hissed at her in a disembodied voice.

Melody scowled. “That bastard.”

“Do not address the High Lord so disrespectfully,” the servant snapped again. “You have no idea what he has done for his people.”

“I’m just calling it as I see it.”

Her dress had been designed to cover the bare minimum of the parts most important to her. The front was short, stopping mid-thigh, only for the back to gently flow down to her calves. Her breasts were half-heartedly covered with straps that thinned to tie around her neck. Naturally, the dress was backless, displaying the tattoo, which did cover her entire back for all to see. On top of everything, the color of the dress was a deep wine red, rounding off the harlot look for her quiet nicely.

‘’I want to go to bed,” she groused.

“You must attend the party,” the second servant hissed back, for the third time. “The court has come to celebrate our lord’s return.”

So Rhysand’s court was going to see her, the High Lord’s newest, mortal plaything, like this. Swell.

She took one last look in the mirror, at her long, brown hair spilling over her shoulders, the dark makeup, the dress, the ridiculously high shoes, and straightened her spine, holding her head high.

“Let’s get this over with.”

When she rejoined Rhysand, he was in the ballroom, where more servant girls were flitting about, setting up a line of covered carts on wheels. Melody hoped that’s where the food would be, if there was food. Rhysand conversed with two other Fae. The first was a dark-haired, clean-cut male with an expression that only seemed to move from serious to more serious. Melody blinked at the impressive, leathery wings he had tucked close to his back. Was that…a normal feature here? Perhaps not, for the stunning blonde woman next to him was wingless, though she did possess an ever-present smirk on her face that was endearing until one met her sharp brown eyes. It reminded her of another certain infuriating smirk.

The conversation stopped when she entered the room. Melody pretended not to notice how Rhysand took her in, almost appreciatively, like he was preening. She was much more interested with the reactions of the Fae male, who closed his eyes as if praying for deliverance, and the woman, who hid her smile behind her hand, never taking her eyes from Melody.

Well, she supposed, in a few years, this would all be funny to her, too.

“Azriel,” Rhysand said to the male. “Mor.” The female Fae inclined her head. “I’d like you to meet the Night Court’s newest asset. The girl who can resist magic: Melody.”

Melody nodded her head but said nothing, assessing them just as they were assessing her.

Finally, Azriel said, “You can’t read her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not yet. She’s blocking me somehow,” Rhysand replied, smirking. “But I’ll find her weakness soon enough.”

Melody snorted. “Good luck with that, Your Worship.”

“Your Worship?” Mor let out a delighted laugh, turning to Rhysand, whose grin had spread at Melody’s mocking title. “Oh! This is going to be so much fun, Rhys.”

Rhys?

Melody wrinkled her nose in mild disgust. “You know what would be fun? Returning to matters of state,” Azriel said, moving to ignore Melody entirely. Good.

She needed a breather.

The pounding in her head was starting again. There were faeries here, all over the palace. She could sense them. They just weren’t allowed into the ballroom yet. She knew she should be listening to the conversation, but in truth, she was tired, so tired. Melody kept her gaze settled on a spot just before her, not really seeing anything. Not wanting to see anything. Everything felt scrubbed raw, especially her mind, and every new sound, smell, or sight that involved a faerie had her nearly on the ground. Melody knew the signs well, having experienced it before at the Autumn Court and at Spring's Fire Night. Over-stimulation from all the glamours and magic in the air. And the Night Court was so much bigger, so much more populated, especially now that their High Lord had returned. Briefly, Melody considered giving in for a moment, dampening her will to allow the glamours and spells the faeries so desperately wanted to fool her with to do their work. But then, Rhysand laughed at something Mor said, the sound sliding over her nerves like velvet, and she knew she couldn't. If the force of her will wavered, even for a moment, he would know. He would see everything, why she had even come to faerie lands in the first place, and would be able to discern her thoughts again, maybe worse. And he was much stronger now. Just as she was about to beg Rhysand to let her leave and rest, a series of movements across the room caught her eye, moving separately from the natural energy of the room. Two of the shadowy servant girls wheeled yet another cart, this one also covered with a sheet, on the end of what she still took to be a banquet. More shadows appeared from nothing, and at once, they began removing the covers. Though there hadn't been anything there before, the cart's surfaces flat, as soon as the sheets were removed, mountains of food appeared. Once more, the last cart the servants had wheeled in caught her eye, and Melody couldn't stop her gasp, welcoming the sudden burst of energy at the sight of— "A cheese cart!"

Food. Without even thinking, without even remembering who she was with or where she was, Melody slipped away from Rhysand to begin her journey to happiness. 

From beside him, Rhysand heard her gasp and exclamation and tilted his head to find the human's face shining with wonder. The stark contrast between this and her usual guarded coldness gave him pause, so much so that he let her leave his side. Rhysand only half-listened to the ongoing conversation, his amusement focused steadily on the mortal as she practically skipped to the cheese display. He watched with growing fascination and surprise as she perused the selections with a critical eye—his servants darting around to avoid her—to finally settle on a soft cheese. After spreading it on a cracker with acute deliberation, she popped it in her mouth, and Rhysand was caught by the look of rapture that stole across her face. Then she let out a moan so erotic it made his ears tingle. Rhysand no longer cared how obvious it was that he was staring. He wanted to see what else she would eat, wanted to see what could stir her sense of pleasure. She chose a cube next and tossed it into her mouth with zeal—only to screw up her face in disgust. As a look of utmost betrayal widened those deep, blue eyes, Rhysand heard a low laugh escape him. "Something you find amusing, my lord?" Rhysand snapped his attention to his shadowsinger, whose features were blank and controlled as always. "Only that my inner circle is so worried about the other courts' reactions that they've chosen to bother me with them, on a celebratory night no less." "Two dozen of the Winter Court's younglings dead, meanwhile our court prospered under the Deceiver's rule. Even despite your actions protecting the Summer Lord and Tamlin's mortal woman, there's been a lot of talk. Mostly concerning calls for retribution." "So things are finally getting back to normal," Rhysand flippantly remarked. With palpable disinterest, Rhysand waved the words away. "I did what was necessary. I can't be bothered with High Lords who were too cowardly to do the same." "But—" "Azriel," Rhysand admonished, his smile growing at the shadowsinger’s narrowing eyes. "I plan on enjoying my homecoming tonight. Perhaps after imbibing a few glasses of wine, you'll do the same?" Azriel was kept around for more than just his efficiency. He knew a dismissal when he heard it. Rhysand watched him stalk off then turned to Mor. "And you are being far too quiet." She smiled sweetly at him. "I think I'll go bother your mortal." Rhysand stopped her with a hard grip on her arm. "You can play with my toys when I am done with them, Mor." His smile was all charm, but his eyes were knives. "And not a moment before." Mor matched him, smirk for smirk. "Of course." She glided off, all too sure of herself. Rhysand wondered how this was all going to play out as he rejoined the mortal. "Do you plan on leaving any for the rest of the guests?" he purred in her ear. She spun around, mouth full of the telltale cheese. Swallowing with effort, she pointed at the cubes. "You can have those. They're horrid." "The generosity of mortals always manages to stagger me. But I think I'm more interested in this spread." He served himself a cracker-full and didn't take his eyes from hers as he took a bite. He swallowed. "It's good. Hardly moan-worthy, though." Her face was a little pink as she broke eye contact with him. "Ah, right. The hearing thing." One by one, her walls came back up, and her tone was defensive when she said, "I just really like food, okay?" He wanted to bring that delightful flush back to her cheeks, so he leaned in and purred, "What else do you like that makes you moan like that?" "A return to country, family, not to mention extended freedoms and liberties," she rattled off with ease, her skin still frustratingly pale. "I have need for little else." In his annoyance, Rhysand nodded mock-understandably. "You will, of course, be granted none of that." She moved away from him, and he got the impression that she was trying to hide from him. "Don't worry. I wasn't holding my breath." An uncomfortable silence passed between them. Melody filled it by eating more cheese. "There will be roasted duck served, too." He wasn't sure why he said it, other than to ignite that visible sense of passion within her. Rhysand reminded himself that human feeling was fleeting and weak. Even so, out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her freeze then look at him. "…Are you serious?" "Deathly so." He grinned. She leaned back from him slightly. "And will I be allowed to sample it along with you and your toadies?" So distrustful. He wondered which had caused this, her living among her own people or his. Still, her distrust would serve her as well as it did him. "Of course." His grin widened as he stepped forward, trapping her between himself and the cheese display. "Provided your cooperation." "With what?" She said, an annoyed slant to her voice and her brow. "That when I ask you to dance with me tonight, you won't look so obviously miserable." The tension released from her shoulders, and she gave him a searching look. Not for the first time, Rhysand felt a wave of frustration that he could no longer read her thoughts. But that, he vowed, would change. Finally, she said, "I suppose I can manage that. For roasted duck."

He smiled, knowing just how much she would despise said dance when she realized what it entailed. This wasn’t the human realm, after all.

And he wasn’t a gentleman. He was Fae.

[barddom]

The Tempest

I started my reading list with The Tempest because it’s the first one in my copy of The Complete Works. It’s also a little bit poignant because Tempest is one of those plays that People believe “means” something about Shakespeare (or, as he will be colloquially referred to on this blog, Billy Shakes). It was probably one of his last plays, and because it’s about an old man giving up his craft, People say that it is about Shakespeare giving up The Theatre.

I don’t know about all that. What I do know that Shakespeare had daughters, and that the way he wrote father-daughter relationships is very particular and interesting. However, using his plays to try and expose truths about the playwright can be really unproductive. I’ve tried it and it’s hard and usually wrong. That being said, the plot is pretty wild.

[what follows is a plot summary. for hasty, last minute thoughts, skip to the end.]

Act One

Surprise! It’s about a tempest! We open in Act 1 with a storm, and a ship caught in the fustercluck.

The Boatswain and Shipmaster are like, “Nooo!” and the passengers are like, “Please God, I don’t want to die at sea! I want to die on land!” (1.1.63-65)

These passengers are: Alonso, the King of Naples, his brother Sebastian, his son Ferdinand,  his counsellor Gonzalo, and Antonio, the Duke of Milan. Basically, the who’s who of Italy.

After this expository storm scene, we jump to a nearby island to meet our protagonists, Prospero (old, weird, presumably funky smelling), and his daughter, Miranda (young, nubile). Also, Miranda is the only female character in the play, which means we’re off to a really great start of continually failing the Bechdel test.

“Papa,” Miranda says, probably. “What is up with this freaky storm? Is that a shipwreck over there? Also, who am I?” (1.2)* (See notes at the bottom re: Miranda’s questions, memory, and this entire exchange.)

Here’s the deal: Miranda is fifteen, and has never met anyone other than Prospero, her father, or Caliban, the dude he keeps chained up in a cave for reasons that will become clear (but make that fact no less alarming).

Prospero, on today of all days, decides to be honest with Miranda about his past and her identity. This is a classic Billy Shakes move: exposing the noble lineage of a character to move the plot along. The sad tragic backstory is this: [cue violins]

Prospero used to be the Duke of Milan. Antonio is his evil, scheming, usurping brother. (Gasp!) Back when Miranda was a toddler, Prospero spent all his time reading magic books, and his brother was like, “I should be the duke!” King Alonso was in on it as well, and they shoved Prospero and Miranda on a boat and left them out at sea. Gonzalo gave them food, clothes, and water, but more importantly, the magic books! (Thanks, Gonzalo.) They eventually made it to The Island, where Prospero was like, “Chill,” and set up camp for the rest of time. (1.2.36-173) (It’s a long story.)

So the storm is Prospero’s revenge. He’s gonna really make life hard for the guys on the boat. (1.2.180). Miranda tries to ask another question, but her dad spells her to sleep instead, naturally.  

This is where we meet Tempest’s real MVP: the spirit Ariel. Unfortunately, we don’t get to see him in action just yet. Instead we hear his tragic backstory. [Violins again, please.]

Before Prospero came to the island, it was ruled over by an evil witch named Sycorax. (Notice how men who practise magic are good magicians and women who practise magic are evil witches? Yeah, that’s a thing.) Prospero killed Sycorax, freed Ariel from the tree he was captive in, and then immediately enslaved him again. (1.2.257-293)

Prospero has promised Ariel that he will free him, as long as he follows through with the plan to separate, torment, and punish the shipwreck victims. Ariel’s like, “Already on it, boss.” And he flies away. (1.2.300)

When Miranda wakes, they go visit Caliban, Sycorax’s son! Wild. He collects their firewood and complains about it, mostly.

Meanwhile, Ariel has found Prince Ferdinand and is luring him in with sweet music. Miranda, who has never seen a man who is not a) super old or b) horribly disfigured, immediately falls madly in love with him on sight. Too bad, so sad, Prospero locks him up.

Act Two

We open on Antonio and Sebastian, who – I’m not gonna lie – I have always gotten a weird evil lovers vibe from. Is that just me? Probably.

They put their heads together and decide to kill the king, who is super bummed out because he thinks his son is dead. So if he dies, then Sebastian would be the new King of Naples! And Antonio would be the Duke of Milan and they could have slumber parties! Flawless plan. But as they go to behead the sleeping men, Gonzalo wakes up.

“Hey guys, what are those swords for?” he asks.

“Uh… we heard a monster?” they say, you know, like liars.

They don’t know how right they are, as we cut to–

Caliban, who is chopping wood (naturally) and starts to soliloquize on how much he hates Prospero, which is pretty understandable. I mean, a guy comes and kills your mother, steals the land you grew up on and were destined to inherit, and then enslaves you? That’s a huge bummer.

Enter Trinculo, the court jester, who was also in the shipwreck. The scene that follows is slapstick AF, providing a much needed break in the action of Slavery this and Drowned Souls that. He and Caliban end up under the same cloak for shelter from the storm, and Trinculo says, “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows!” (2.2.42.)

Too true, Trinculo. Too true.

Another survivor, the butler Stephano, rocks up, only he has a whole lot of wine with him. Get in, buddy. He thinks that Caliban and Trinculo look like a weird beast, and decides the best course of action is to feed it the rest of the wine. Caliban gets smashed, immediately. Then Trinculo pops out and says, “Stephano, buddy! It’s me!” Happy friends are reunited, and now have a drunk, pliable, and desperate Caliban believing that they are gods and that wine is divine nectar, and that they’ll be able to kill Prospero! Sounds logical.

Act Three

Because there’s not much to do on an island populated by three people, Ferdinand is the new Caliban and is in charge of woodcutting. He waxes poetic about how the work is hard, but his love for Miranda makes it all okay. (i.e. “This work is hard, but I am harder, eh-hey!”) (3.1.1-15)

It’s cool though because it’s totally mutual. Prospero isn’t too keen on it, and is spying on them from a distance like the creepy, overprotective father he most certainly is. He’s conflicted because Miranda has never been happier, but also his baby girl is growing up! [violins, again]

The important thing about this scene, I think, is the language about servitude. We’ve seen a whole lot of different kinds of servitude in the play so far - mostly, you know, involuntary. Miranda and Ferdinand exchange willing, voluntary vows, declaring their love for and service to each other. (See, kids? Love is a prison.)

Meanwhile, on another part of the island, Stephano and Trinculo are getting Caliban even drunker.

More importantly, Ariel comes in, invisible to them, and plays them some kickass tunes on his pipe. This is where one of the best known passages from the play comes from.

Caliban

Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had wak’d after a long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak’d, I cried to dream again.

(3.2.130-137)

I love this part because this is where we finally start seeing the island for what it is: a haunted fairytale world. Caliban, who’s lived there all his life, doesn’t know what the noises are, or even the spirits that make them. His connection to the island is so innate and deep that he doesn’t question this mystery, just accepts it. It’s *clenches fist* so beautiful.

Back with the merry group of Italian Nobles, shit is about to get real. They’re busy complaining about their feet being sore, or whatever, and then… “solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the top, invisible.”

Strange shapes enter the stage with a banquet. Sebastian is like, “Cool, I believe in unicorns and fairies now, this is absolutely nucking futs.” (3.3.22)

Before the nobles can eat, though, the greatest ever stage direction I’ve ever read in my life.

Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes.

First of all: enter Ariel, like a harpy? Can you think of anything more beautiful and terrifying than seeing a giant bird-spirit with an enormous wingspan emerge from the air, slam its fists down in front of your face, and vanish everything there? This is why Ariel is my MVP. He’s just such a drama queen.

I’m also hugely fascinated by the “quaint device” situation, here. There’s a good chance my MA thesis will be on magic/witchcraft on stage. As Tempest is a late play, probably 1610-11, it was written and performed under King James, who was obsessed with witchcraft. Magic tricks weren’t just slight of hand, back in the day, they were fully, completely real. The audience, the actors, and the king all believed in the supernatural.

Anyway, Ariel makes this big speech about how he is a spirit of vengeance who is there to punish them for what they did to Prospero, before vanishing in thunder.

Act Four

“Sorry I, like, imprisoned you, or whatever,” Prospero says to Ferdinand. “But you can totally marry my daughter. As long as you don’t bone her until after the wedding. Or else I’ll do… something. Something magic and weird.” (4.1.1-23)

“Cool,” says Ferdinand.

Ariel, when Prospero asks, brings down the spirits/deities Iris, Ceres, and Juno to bless the union. Then some nymphs, then Reapers. Which reminds Prospero suddenly! Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo were on their way to kill him! Yikes.

With the help of Ariel’s trusty invisibility cloak, they manage to spy on them, and then set dog/hound spirits on them, and scare them away. Too easy.

Act Five

Finally, Ariel is going to be set free! After god knows how many years stuck in a tree stump, and thirteen years at Prospero’s beck and call, he’s going to be set free!

Only no.

What proceeds is a super sad scene where Ariel, telling Prospero how the Merry Italians are faring (spoiler: not well), feels a deep tug on his ol’ sympathy wire. Or, rather, “Mine would, sir, were I human.” (5.1.19)

Who is the monster and who is the man? Huh? HUH?

While Ariel goes off to fetch the shipwreck victims, Prospero makes an awesome speech about how cool and powerful his magic is, and how, alas, he is going to give it up. Because he cannot be a wizard and a Duke, can he? Also, it seems to me that his main power was, you know, enslaving people and spirits who can do his bidding. Not exactly kosher.

Ariel returns with the Italians and Prospero finally confronts them. Of course, they’re like, “Are you real? I’ve seen so much crazy crap today I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a figment of my imagination.”

But no, he has a pulse, and he has aged, and he is real!

He confronts everyone, left and right. Sebastian, Antonio, Alonso - nobody is safe! (Except for Gonzalo who he’s chill with.)

He even gives them a twist by saying, “I’ve lost my daughter…” and while they’re like, “NO!” he says, “PSYCHE! I meant because she married the prince! Booyah!”

Meanwhile, Ariel repairs the ship, fills it with supplies, and sends the captain to pick everyone up.

“FREE ME!!!!” he seems to be screaming, through clenched teeth.

Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano all emerge, in stolen clothes, reeking of wine and, probably, their own piss. Everyone heads back to the ship, bound for Milan.

But first - “My Ariel, chick / That is thy charge. Then to the elements / Be free, and fare thou well!”

Finally. Finally.

Epilogue.

To be fair to those who think Prospero is kinda sorta Billy Shakes himself, Prospero’s epilogue sounds a lot like an old man giving up his trade, there on the stage. In fact, he begs to be set free from it.

Really, it was Prospero who was the slave all along. A slave to his circumstances, his trade, his life. Heavyhanded? Yes. An attitude that maybe diminishes the suffering endured by the actual slaves in the story? Probably. But in the end, it’s Prospero who needs to be freed from the shackles of the play, of magic, of fury, a quest for revenge, and his life on the island.

What makes Prospero’s epilogue sound like a speech being given by Shakespeare is that he asks the audience for permission to step down: “As you from crimes would pardon’d be, / Let your indulgence set me free.” (19-20)

Only can the audience set him free - not the other characters. The epilogue happens for us, not for the sake of the plot on stage. It is our job to pardon Prospero for his crimes. Our job to let Shakespeare put down his pen, I guess.

My real interest in Tempest is, as I said, in the stagecraft of it, and the implications of performing, or re-enacting the supernatural on stage. I’ll likely think about this more when it comes to things like Macbeth, Midsummer, or any play with supernatural elements, like Hamlet.

Other fascinating points:

colonialism/land ownership

colonialism and language - (Caliban: “You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language!”)

that Ariel was freed from the stump implies that he was captive in the land. I’m sure there’s some kind of eco-criticism about this, somewhere, but I don’t know if I care enough about eco-criticism to follow it up

Memory

Antonio has convinced himself that he did not wrongfully usurp his brother, for instance.

Miranda cannot remember… anything? (See Kevin Ohi (2015), ‘Forgetting the Tempest’, in Dead Letters Sent: Queer Literary Transmission (pp. 49-66). University of Minnesota Press.)

The way in which Prospero constantly qualifies the story (1.2), asking her if she’s listening, if she’s paying attention, etc. implies that she might not be listening, that she perhaps can’t pay attention, that she might not remember. Despite knowing that the shipwreck victims are alive and safe, Miranda let’s Ferdinand believe that his father is dead - or, perhaps, she does not remember that Alonso is alive.

Caliban’s memory of his mother, of his island, of his childhood - it leads us to the question of who is the custodian of knowledge, of memory, for a place?

Performances and rituals

magic, marriage, masques (oh, i like the sound of that.)

And yeah. What a plot summary. Catch me never writing one again.

Things to accompany The Tempest:

Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed

The Little Mermaid and/or Pocahontas

Julie Taymor’s The Tempest (2010) where Helen Mirren plays Prospera.

“The Island: Come and See/The Landlord’s Daughter/You’ll Not Feel the Drowning” by The Decemberists.

[velbsy]

OH HMH FOD I LIVE THSIS O MUCHHX AAUAUAGAHH FUCKIGN SHAKES YOU /VVVVPOS

Last Names

(Click for better quality)

"KAPRI YOU CAN'T POST THE AFTER STORY FOR CHASING STARS YOU HAVEN'T EVEN POSTED THE FIRST CHAPTERS YET!!!"

🤫🙂‍↔️

This comic is kinda shitty but you get the point XD

Bonus clothed CS Moon!