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ingek73 · 3 years ago

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Juneteenth

STORY by Team at Archewell

Jun. 16, 2021

YOUNG POETS OF GET LIT SHARE POWERFUL WORDS TO COMMEMORATE THE DAY

In honor of Juneteenth, we, at Archewell, connected with our friends at Get Lit and asked them to share poetry to honor this important day. We hope their poignant words allow you to reflect on the significance of this newly declared federal holiday in the United States and its impact across this country and around the world.

AND HOLD, AND HOLD

CORTUNAY MINOR AND TAMIA JACKSON

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WHY THEY WROTE THIS POEM:

“When I wrote this poem, just a few weeks before June 15th, Juneteenth wasn’t yet a federal or national holiday. It wasn’t something I’d given much thought to, but when I had recognized that fact, it wasn’t information, it was confirmation. At first, I was upset about it. My immediate thoughts were along the lines of, ‘Where are our fireworks? Where’s our three-day weekend?’ But in reflection, I realized that this was demonstrating continued deference to a supposedly superior entity. Juneteenth isn’t the ‘Black Independence Day,’ it’s the only Independence Day. To have that nationally recognized feels amazing. But whether or not the date is printed in every calendar does not validate this holiday. We do.”

WHY SHE ANIMATED THIS PIECE:

“This poem, especially for Juneteenth, really inspired me. The color palette expresses the somber yet hopeful emotions that happen when black freedom is discussed, and what it means to be a Black individual in America. This poem as well as the visuals really emphasizes the impact that Black people have by simply existing, and the importance of our breath. We know that as long as we’re still breathing there can and will be change, and ultimately full freedom.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cortunay Minor (she/they) is a performing artist who specializes in Stage Acting and Spoken Word Poetry. They are currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Theater from the UCLA School of Theater, Film, and Television. The theme and goal that Minor tries to hold in the heart of their artistry is liberation, be that emotional, intellectual, or otherwise. Expression and education are two of the most fruitful paths Minor has found that achieve that liberation, and she is immensely grateful to be able to participate in a craft that allows their simultaneous occurrence.

ABOUT THE ANIMATOR:

Tamia Jackson (animator) is a rising senior at the Rhode Island School of Design, receiving her BFA in Film/Animation/Video with a minor in Literary Arts and Studies. She has always been passionate in art, animation, and storytelling. She loves bringing stories of lesser voices, such as BIPOC, low income, female, etc., into a visual and cared-for light. Though not all of her stories or animations revolve around such identities, it is important that she shows diversity so that many people can relate and find comfort in the characters or art piece. Not only does Jackson enjoy spreading her own voice, but she also loves bringing others’ stories to life.

AND HOLD, AND HOLD

‘Holiday’ meaning ‘Holy Day’ meaning:

every second is sacred/every hour hibernates

within the spirit, huddled beneath the bosom.

To breathe is to commemorate:

inhale – exhale – cradle the thought – hold – and repeat.

When daybreak demotes breath to subconscious action,

the diaphragm still submits in reverence, still remembers that

This is Divine. This

is where jubilation begins:

in the suspension of

breathe in – breathe out – take maybe – and

forever hold the moment,

where the deferred dream stopped shriveling,

wavered in anticipation, remembered that expansion

can be soft,

recognized that it didn’t want soft

expansion.

Bodies were policied out of possession, but

the Black individual liberated their own being,

hollered themself out of state-sanctioned silence.

Words ignite, but presence sustains; this intake/expel maintains us

here

the dream explodes. The spirit absorbs the remnants and outpours,

‘holiday’ meaning ‘Holy Day’ meaning:

I hold this day as sovereign. Meaning:

I hope this day knows its home is in these lungs,

is in this breath, is in the repetition of:

inspire – expire – immortalize the memory – and hold – and hold – and release

POPLAR TREES

CYRUS ROBERTS

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WHY HE WROTE AND DIRECTED THIS POEM:

“It’s easy to say “slavery was an atrocity and we need to do better” but it’s much more difficult to say “slave masters ripped babies from their mothers and used them as crocodile bait for sport.” In the average American lexicon, phrases like ‘Never Forget’ are commonplace but are rarely attributed to periods of fundamental, ongoing violence of a racial nature for the simple fact that our pain makes the people who benefitted from that pain uncomfortable. For me Juneteenth is a day of mourning; the Confederate holidays still celebrated today seem like a gruesome counterbalance. So this is my eulogy to both the country and my own being that could have been.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cyrus Roberts (he/him) writes, acts, and directs across poetry, theater, and film. While his work has been commissioned by organizations like Toms Shoes, Adidas, and March For Our Lives, he also enjoys working on cool independent projects, whether he’s self-publishing poetry compilations, creating movies with friends, or acting in his own plays. Roberts is currently a senior in UC Santa Barbara’s BFA Acting program. Look for him in the upcoming film Summertime, directed by Carlos Lopez Estrada. His assistant director on the project was Mattie Kranz.

POPLAR TREES

Before you there was me. But before me there was (Nina Simone audio: “black bodies swinging”). And that was the gentler time period. Everything base within you, reflected in your actions. Please don’t censor me when I mention how you wrangled our teeth from our mouths and used them to seduce your own illnesses into submission. Or how you took an interest in the skin that had a monopoly on sunlight and then took what you wanted underneath the moon. Or how you used our babies as crocodile bait and our skin as shoe leather. Look right into the eyes of our demise and try to say those times are past, that I’m being rash, that I’m being bad and so full of woe and I should be glad I’m writing this on my MacBook Pro. Yeah? Who am I to complain about slavery? Because it ended, right? On June 19, 1865, Union Army general Gordon Granger made his way to Texas and proclaimed slavery’s supposed fall and us colored folk supposed to have a ball? I mean it was two and a half years after Lincoln already announced it, but we needed a white man to tell other white men what another white man already said. I mean that is until that white man found himself dead and Reconstruction found itself at a head and chain gangs, sharecropping, Jim Crow, private prison options, perc popping, bodies dropping, cops still stopping, guns cocking to ensure that (Nina Simone audio: “black bodies swinging”). Every 19th of June we celebrate the end of chattel slavery and every 20th we’re back to fighting its descendants. Private prisons / a cop’s knee is a modern lynching / it ain’t my decision to get busy dyin’ or busy living / I paid attention, to all the digitized depictions / all the people packing up pensions while we’re backed up by the system. Put your back into the system, this is wack how mother’s missing their babies kisses and I’m supposed to be celebrating? I’m sorry. Will you forgive me, I’m jaded. My grandmother looks at me and says confidently that I made it. That she can’t possibly imagine the life that I’m living, I owe a debt to her generation, and I hope that I pay it. I just get so angry, hazy laughter at the thought of thoughts and prayers ending enslavement. So after you hear me, I’ll forgive you if you’re jaded. But you still need to know the history to have an appreciation. It’s no mystery why it’s a mystery present in our education, presently the gatekeepers keep us from it and it’s heinous. On Juneteenth, Americans across the nation eat red foods in honor of the blood spilled before and during emancipation, we celebrate the secondary, pushed-to-the-side independence day, but you don’t have to know our proclamations of jubilation for us to be heard. We will be heard in our voices screaming thanks that we are not treated as herd. We dance and we sing hymns of freedom. Freedom: absence of subjection to foreign domination or despotic government. Are my brothers and sisters in jail cells free? When there’s a glaring loophole in the 13th amendment smiling from cheek to cheek I’d imagine there’d be some incentive to ensure our purity is never free. And how can I be free when I can’t sleep because my dreams keep whispering I can’t breathe. Regardless of that fact, progress is still being made. But I fear progress is just an exchange of chains for other chains. Same way they changed our names for other names, I rest a bouquet on the graves of enslaved, singing regardless this day. In the hopes that I never again have to see (Nina Simone audio: “black bodies swinging”).

UNTITLED

SIERRA LEONE ANDERSON

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WHY SHE WROTE THIS POEM:

“When writing this poem, I really made an effort to think back to my ancestors. What was their impact? Who did they inspire? How did they carve the path for the road I now choose to take? This poem is about legacy. I am calling back to the ancestors before me to give me the strength and courage to be the ancestor I want to be to future generations.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sierra Leone Anderson (poet) is a youth activist and professional spoken word artist from Los Angeles. Rooted in liberatory joy and armed with ancestral truth, Sierra Leone aims to bring light to the power of language, empowering Los Angeles youth of color to recognize the quantifiable influence of their voice. She has placed both second and first in Get Lit’s annual middle and high school Classic Slam respectively, co-wrote an article for the political column of USA Today, and has shared space with several influential changemakers including Dr. Melina Abdullah (co-founder of BLM-LA) and Cecily Myart-Cruz (president of UTLA). Her other organizing work includes collaborating with Students Deserve LA to make Black Lives Matter in and beyond schools. She is currently a ninth grade student at Girls Academic Leadership Academy and an avid lover of trashy teenage dramedies.

Her director and editor is Lukas Lane, an award-winning filmmaker and founding member of Literary Riot (started in his junior year of high school), and he is currently attending UC Berkeley.

UNTITLED

Every generation, the world gives birth to a new fleet of freedom fighters.

I am one of them.

I stand on the shoulders of tired women.

I dance in the footsteps of Pan-African poets, liberation fighters, and Black writers

who grew fires from a pit hungrier than a stomach. They call my name and I call theirs.

Malcolm X. Phyllis Wheatley. Maya Angelou. Sojourner Truth. Audre Lorde. Ida B. Wells.

Your resilience rivers through me. You are my founding fathers. The blueprint to a world we need to be brave enough to see, to seek.

Let us imagine a world in which we know each other’s palms

and never the fist. Not unless needed. Not unless united together.

Let us be the drum and not the war.

Let us know each other’s names and not the languages we cry in.

Let us be, let all us be more than a slave’s wildest dream

Let us beam past blueprints and what-ifs and start becoming the now we want to see, the now we want to be

Trees growing so far past the Earth, Allah would mistake our bodies for angels.

When I die, I want to ripple through lifetimes. I want my name to graffiti the mouths of the next 10 generations.

I don’t want to be forgotten. Or remembered for the way my feet wouldn’t stop running.

I wanna grow roots in this soil, in this American skin. Join the forest of my ancestors. Let my grandkids climb up my branches and tell stories of school.

And before the first pulse of morning, I want them to drip from their homes and gather at my roots.

I want to tell them my name before I forget it.

I want to tell them that morning is coming. And will always come. And will never wait for when you are ready.

I want to tell them that there is a point far beyond this tree, this forest, this temporary point in time, their bodies, their fears, their fathers, their memories. Where the sun is eternal and smiling. Where freedom rings and is never silent, never out of reach. It is called horizon. And it is right there.

#juneteenth #archewell #sierra leone anderson #cyrus roberts #cortunay minor #tamia jackson #get lit #poetry #poets #Youtube

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1009

survey by spiritt

Do you play minesweeper or solitare or anything to pass the time? That’s what I did on my old Windows laptops whenever the internet would go out for a long period of time, but I haven’t had to do so in a while now. I’d sometimes play pinball as well, but in the end solitare ended up being my favorite.

Do you believe in life after death? No, I just think of it as sleeping for a very long time which is comforting enough for me to be okay with death. If I think too hard about what can potentially come after, I just get overwhelmed.

What do you think of Oprah? I don’t really think about her in any type of way. I know she had a wildly popular talk show and that she made fortunes out of it and that she occasionally gave out a lot of freebies to her screaming audience from time to time, but other than that I guess I never really cared.

Do you write a lot of surveys or do you just take them? Answered this super recently; I just take them.

What's something you're really good at? Beating deadlines, playing with dogs, and overthinking. Sometimes I do these individually, and sometimes I do them all at the same time loooool.

How big is your bedroom? Not very. I was supposed to have a much larger room in the house, but my sister and I were meant to share it. But after sharing a bedroom with my parents and siblings in our old house, I didn’t want to have to share with anyone anymore – so I called dibs on the bedroom that was meant for my brother; and considering my brother was only 4 when we moved in, it’s not the biggest room in the house. But I took it because I jumped at the chance of finally having personal space, and that’s the story of how I ended up having the smallest bedroom in the house haha. I never saw a reason to complain about it though, honestly...I’m only here to sleep, cry, work, and take surveys. As small as it is compared to other rooms, it provides me with all the space I need.

Do you like to go bowling? I do love bowling. But going to bowling alleys is just so expensive I never really get to go and play a few rounds. And because I’m a bit of a sore loser, I like to keep the bumpers up whenever it’s my turn, ha.

Do you usually remember your dreams? I remember them for a few hours but unless I write them down, I’ll also forget them within the day.

Do you think they mean anything? I don’t think they necessarily reveal a lot; but my dreams are very reflective of what I’m going through and/or my emotions at a given time. So I wouldn’t say they reveal, but rather reiterate.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? Yes, but only in high school. In college, one of the professors from the communication research department is super gorgeous and has the most amazing posture and wardrobe, but I never took her classes.

Besides bzoink, which websites do you frequent? Google Suite, YouTube, Reddit, andddd I’ve recently gone back to Twitter because I missed society, tweeting out my thoughts, and being updated with news. Isolation was also starting to not be good for me, so I had to go back.

Who was the last person to come to your house? My grandma and one of my cousins. They came for a quick catch-up and my cousin even got pizzas for us, heh <3

What's your birthstone? Do you have anything with it? Diamond. No, not yet at least.

Have you ever had carpal tunnel? Nope. My wrist has felt exhausted many times before, but I don’t think it was actually carpal tunnel syndrome.

Are you one of those people who is really smart but has no common sense? Hahahahahaha. Yeah I can be, and I’ve occasionally been told that before. I can be a little ditzy, I guess.

Do you think fast? Yes, but I’d rather not. It’s a lot of pressure to think on my feet most of the time.

What browser do you use? Chrome, but I’m increasingly thinking of making the shift to Safari because I’ve just been starting to realize how sleek and clean it looks. I probably wouldn’t simply because I’ve been on Chrome ever since I discovered the internet lmao, but I’ll give it a couple of trials nonetheless and see if I like it.

Are you clumsy? Yep. Tripping is a regular, familiar occurrence.

Paste the last thing you copied. “We were unable to authorize the payment you used to sign up for WWE Network, and as a result your WWE Network subscription has been cancelled.” I’m still figuring out how bank stuff and online payment work and so far no one has wanted to accept my subscriptions. Must be doing something wrong that I haven’t found out yet. I feel welcomed to adulthood, indeed.

Have you ever eaten at Hooters? No. We don’t have them here; but even if we did I dunno if I’d wanna go inside.

Do you like turtles? I certainly don’t dislike them.

Do you have to have goggles when you swim? No. I don’t mind the discomfort tbh, it’s not all bad.

How long can you stay awake? Just a few hours shy of 24.

Where were you going the first time you were on a plane? Boracay.

Do you have a good memory? Too sharp for my own good.

Are you usually more blunt or polite? Eh, I’ve pretty much mastered both. I use either tone whenever necessary.

Does it take a long time to get to know you? Except in the case of this blog, yes.

Is there a specific historical period that you're interested in? Anything but the Middle Ages; for some reason I find that particular period very uninteresting. The whole thing about the knights and peasants and land and feudalism just never grabbed my attention.

Tell me something funny that happened today. I went to PhilHealth today to get my ID and was super excited to take another step into being an independent adult and getting to stuff another Grown-Up™ ID in my wallet. The ID I got is nothing more than a flimsy fucking piece of paper. Barely an ID. This is also the same health insurance corporation whose higher-ups were discovered to have stolen P15 billion from the people’s funds, so. My country never disappoints; a comedy show through and through.

Do you know anyone with a really obnoxious laugh? No.

Do you hold grudges? Yes.

How much was your allowance when you were a kid? P100 a day back in high school.

Can you do push-ups? Very shakily.

I usually assume people online are girls. Do you do anything like that? ??? That’s weird, but okay. Also no I don’t generalize like that.

When you were growing up, did your family move around a lot? Only when I was an infant, so I don’t even remember those times at all.

Do you use public transportation? No. I would if they invested in it and improved on it, but I don’t see that happening.

What's your favorite punctuation mark? I don’t have one.

Have you ever had surgery? No.

What's something you're really proud of? The way I’m slowly learning to be independent. Life-wise, singlehood-wise...it’s terrifying most of the time and I still break down at least once a day. But I’m still alive and doing this survey and breathing, so I must be doing something right. Here’s to feeling and getting better; I know I want to get there.

#survey #surveys

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shipmistress9 · 6 years ago

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FTLOAP: Chapter 34: And There’s Tears We Cry, But Those Tears Will Fade

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: WHOOOHOOW! We're getting started again! I'm so excited! :D It feels like it's been ages, even though I probably needed the break. But on a sidenote: It's been almost exactly a yeah now since this story started! That's CRAZY!

This week's title comes once again from Walking The Wire by Imagine Dragons.

I feel like I should warn you though... Remember how I said I'd use the time to write a buffer for the summer? Yeah... well, that didn't happen. I fell into a bit of a motivation hole and barely wrote anything during these two months. In the end, I managed to write one and a half chapters for this story, which means that after posting this, I'm back to the usual slightly stressful pressure of writing one chapter per week... In addition to that, my life outside of fandom became more complicated too, which in the end means that I can't promise to keep up the weekly schedule. I'll do my best! But if it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

. o O o .

“I don’t want to go…”Hiccup murmured against her neck, and a light shudder ran through Astrid’s body.

It wasn’t the first time these words passed between them lately, not at all. In the two months since Daniel had left for Westhill, they had been a near-daily occurrence. Sometimes, like now, they came muttered against her skin or her hair, sometimes they were filled with desperation when they clutched each other close, or sometimes it was her who said them, a pained, pleading ‘I don’t want you to go…’.

And yet, there was nothing either of them could do about it. With every happy day they shared, the impending separation came closer and closer. It was only two days until her birthday now, and the day after that House Jag’r would return to Eastervale. Their time was almost up.

“I know,” she murmured back, awkwardly turning in Hiccup’s embrace to seek his lips with her own. Their kiss was harder than she’d intended, but then even that wasn’t uncommon lately. What had been intended as relatively harmless cuddling turned into heated kissing in the blink of an eye, her hands clutching his hair just as fiercely as his clutched at her waist.

Only with great effort did Astrid manage to pull back again, to give them both at least the tiniest bit of space to catch their breath and to calm down. This wasn’t the time to get carried away, even though Astrid wouldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed it. She threw Hiccup a soft but sad smile over her shoulder before she leaned back against his chest, basking in his warmth, and tried to push away all heavy thoughts.

It was an early spring day and the sun shone brightly through the stable's windows. It was possible that the chill would return before summer truly broke through, but for now, the weather was nice enough. And, as so often during these last two months, her father had allowed her to spend the sunny day with Dagur and Eret outside instead of with her governess in a stuffy room. Maybe he’d seen how gloomy she’d become after Daniel had left, had seen that spending time with her brothers was the only thing that was able to cheer her up, and had decided that, as long as they were here at the castle, she should spend as much time with them as was possible. Astrid hadn’t contradicted him; he wasn’t wrong, after all. Spending time with Eret and Dagur was always good, even though that was only part of why she always was in a better mood after those days.

With her and Hiccup not being the only ones dreading the upcoming separation, it had been easy to convince Eret and Dagur to leave her with Hiccup at the stables so that they could… spend some time alone. It only had needed her to assure them that she wasn't uncomfortable with Hiccup keeping watch over her in their stead, which Eret was far quicker to accept than Daniel had been. Sometimes the thought about what bad chaperones they were to each other made her laugh, but she surely wouldn't complain. On the contrary, being able to spend nearly every second day with Hiccup at the stables, more or less unobserved and in addition to being here every night anyway, had been a far better way to spend those two months then she'd expected.

During the days, they never retreated to Hiccup's sleeping stall; the temptation to fall asleep during lazy cuddles and the accompanying risk of missing Eret's and Dagur's return was simply too great. But she didn't feel as if they were missing out. While she greatly enjoyed their nights of solitude, of being free to explore each other in every way imaginable, the days of connecting in other ways were wonderful too. At first, it had worried her that they never knew when the others would return. But with Dagur never being quiet and always laughing or joking and them just having to shuffle a bit away from each other instead of putting clothes back on, it was easily manageable.

With a contented sigh, Astrid shuffled out of Hiccup's embrace and reached for the book she'd dropped next to the straw bale they sat on. She'd taken over Daniel's habit of bringing interesting books for Hiccup from their library, and more often than not, she and Hiccup ended up looking through some of them together. And she loved it. It didn't matter whether she'd picked a theoretical book about metallurgy which Hiccup was more than happy to explain to her, or whether she'd chosen a storybook for them to read to each other and enjoy together. Every second she spent with Hiccup was precious, and with every day she got to know him better, she felt as if her soul was getting more and more complete.

Even though every day brought them closer and closer to their separation.

“So, what did you bring today?” he asked, the effort of forcing his attention away from the topic of leaving audible in his tone. He peered over her shoulder, hands lightly resting around her waist.

Humming, Astrid shuffled a little closer again, enjoying his warmth against her back, before she directed their attention to the book in her lap. “‘The Exotics Of The South,” she replied, indicating the translated subtitle, glad that Hiccup couldn't see her half-hidden mischievous smirk as she turned over the first few pages. “It sounded interesting, to say the least. I've never been to the Southlands, but the stories Dagur occasionally tells from the Southshore traders and sailors are intriguing. Have you ever been there?” She paused at a page that showed a foreign landscape that seemed to consist of nothing but sand. Like an endless beach, except there seemed to be no lake or ocean anywhere. There was a description, written in a foreign tongue, with a scribe’s translation written in small letters under it But between the size of the letters and the scribe’s dialect, it was difficult to make out what the scribe had written in the subtext.

Chuckling lightly, Hiccup shook his head. “No, I haven't. I’ve never left Volantis, always hoped…” he trailed off as she turned the next page.

The picture there was stunning; a forest, but not like anything she’d ever seen before. The trees seemed to reach up endlessly into the sky, and every bit of space between them was filled with other plants, with huge leaves and colourful flowers everywhere. They gazed at the picture for a minute in awed silence before Hiccup reached around her to flip to the next page. It showed a market, but again everything seemed to be bigger and more colourful, fuller as if every tiny bit of space was stuffed with goods and wares and people. There were weapons, rolls of cloth, and an endless variety of objects Astrid couldn't even guess what they were supposed to be. And the scribe’s subtext translation was useless, as Astrid opined, but that just made it more fun, as they could try to make up their own explanations.

“I agree, it’s an interesting book,” Hiccup commented cheerfully after Astrid had suggested that the giant wavy sword was clearly for slicing bread. But then he sobered up again and stroked the page almost reverently, looking at an image of an exotic banquet. His eyes were darting back and forth, trying to take in every detail. “I'd like to see more of the world one day, visit these places, see them with my own eyes. Maybe we can see them together one day.”

Astrid hummed in agreement, her fingers caressing the back of his hand where it rested on the page. “I’d like that.”

The book was full of more pictures, every single one just as wondrous as the others.

The chapter about foreign animals was entertaining, and the scribe’s subtext was at least marginally useful as in they at least could read the headlines. They’d both heard of lions before, but the gigantic beast with a ridiculously long nose and ears called an elephant just baffled them both. However, trying to explain the different kinds of food in the following chapter was nigh on impossible. Astrid spotted something that looked somewhat like Heather’s pastries, but that was about it.

There were more chapters, about clothing, buildings, and strange objects that apparently were part of daily life, and Hiccup and Astrid worked their way through them with much laughter and interest, always trying to come up with an explanation that was either sensible or as ridiculous as possible. It was fun even though Astrid was eager to get to the last chapter. She had, after all, flipped through the book before, and no matter how interesting the other chapters had been, this last one was the one that had really piqued her interest and prompted her to bring the book. Why she’d been allowed to have access to the book by her governess, she had no idea; probably the woman hadn’t spotted those last few pages...

Innocently, she turned the page, and behind her, Hiccup sucked in a breath at the first picture of that last chapter. Astrid felt him shift slightly behind her, his fingers on her waist twitching.

“Well, I’d say that looks interesting,” she commented merrily, intently eyeing the picture. It showed two people, a man lying behind a woman, both naked. In fact, it didn’t look that different from how she and Hiccup often slept, with him curled around her back and their knees bent for comfort. But judging by the expressions on their faces, the people on this picture weren’t sleeping. No, not at all.

“Yeah,” Hiccup breathed. “Interesting…” He swallowed audibly, then turned the page with shaking fingers.

Astrid wondered idly what he’d hoped to see, but the low groan he made told her that it probably wasn’t this. Another picture of two people, with the man somehow kneeling over one of the woman’s legs while her other was lifted up and resting on his shoulder. Feeling a by now familiar tingle in her belly, Astrid tried to appear unperturbed as she flipped to the next page. “Oh, wow,” she commented, disbelievingly. “This looks… is that even possible?”

“It is,” Hiccup muttered, voice low and hoarse.

Astrid mused that, without her heavy dress cushioning his grip, there certainly would be finger-shaped bruises on her hips tomorrow with how tightly he gripped her now. But she honestly didn’t care. Their explorations of each other had continued during the last two months, up to the point where he now at least allowed her to feel and touch him with her hand. However, he was still adamant about his rule, about not going too far. And although Astrid agreed, it was still fun to tease him, to try and get to him. And judging by something hard pressing against her rear right now, she’d been successful by bringing this of all books.

She was about to turn to the next picture, wondering what else they would show and how Hiccup would react, when Dagur’s booming laughter sounded through the wooden wall toward them.

With a muttered curse, Hiccup hastily jumped off the bale. “You’re horrible!” he groaned, even as he bent to place a quick kiss on her cheek. He obviously had no illusions about Astrid having brought this book by accident, but the twinkle in his eyes told her that he didn’t mind. Not really at least.

Chuckling, Astrid closed it and put it at the bottom of the small stack of books she’d brought today, while Hiccup apparently decided that his state of enthusiasm demanded for him to hide in one of the stalls for now.

It was good that they had some semblance of routine by now, Astrid thought as she brushed off straw and dust from her skirt and shuffled back on the straw bale as if she’d been sitting there all on her own. The first few times, she and Hiccup had been nervous, sure that Eret and Dagur would notice something. But they didn’t, and with that nervousness gone by now, it was easy to act as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t spent the last couple of hours as close as they dared during the day, exchanging caresses, kisses, and soft words.

Just to look as if she was actually doing something, Astrid reached for an apple from their picnic basket, right before the door opened and Eret and Dagur came back in.

“Stop whatever you’re doing and act normal. We’re back,” Dagur called jokingly, which drew a chorus of groans and practically audible eye-rolling from everyone else.

“You know, Dagur. The first time, this was a little bit funny, but by now, it’s only boring,” Astrid deadpanned. She didn’t even need to act to sound accordingly bored. Sure, the first time hadn’t been funny either, but at least the boring part was true by now.

Dagur, however, snickered nonetheless. “Well, you never know,” he said as he led Squish back into his stall. “But even with nothing interesting happening here; Hiccup, you still better not tell your girlfriend that you once again spend the whole day alone with the Princess. We wouldn’t want her to get jealous now, would we?” He laughed at his own childish joke again, but this time, Astrid couldn’t help an amused smile from playing around her lips.

“I can assure you,” she replied, trying to sound as unperturbed as she could, “there is no reason for his girlfriend to be jealous.”

Dagur nodded. “I didn’t think so anyway,” he said, winking. “I vividly remember him swooning about her in that tavern. I have no doubts; he wouldn’t risk anything that might have him lose her.”

From the background, Hiccup called over, “And it wasn’t even ‘the entire day’ this time anyway. It’s barely past noon.”

But Dagur didn’t react to Hiccup’s attempt at changing the subject. Instead, he turned more serious all of a sudden. “I was just thinking that she’d certainly like to spend these last days with you too. It can’t be easy for you to be separated for so long.”

“Woah, Dagur, way to kill the mood,” Eret mumbled, saying exactly what Astrid was thinking.

She ducked her head, glad that nobody was paying her any mind anyway with them all being busy with their horses. The last hour of teasing and laughing with Hiccup had effectively wiped away those gloomy thoughts, but now, it all came crashing down on her again. Only three days, and then Hiccup wouldn’t be here anymore. Three days before the months of separation where they wouldn't even be able to exchange small letters or notes. Once more, she feverishly tried to think of any way that would allow Eret and therefore Hiccup to stay just a little bit longer. But, as always, she came up empty-handed.

“I guess we better get going,” Eret said as soon as Crusher and Squish were cared for. “There's still a little time, but I promised Ruff you'd be back in time, and I really don't need for them to play some last prank on me just for letting them wait. Besides, there's a party waiting for us.”

With a sigh, Astrid nodded. Snot's accolade was a good-enough reason to leave the stables, a happy occasion, all in all. Yes, she’d rather stay here with Hiccup, spend as much time with him as possible while they could, but she was also looking forward to meeting up with yet another of her adoptive brothers and to celebrate his big day with him. And the knowledge that she’d be here with Hiccup in only a couple of hours again made parting easier.

“I wonder what stories the Snotman will try to sell us this time,” Dagur wondered as they made their way back to the castle. “It’s always too funny to compare his exaggerations with what really happened when Daniel tells us about it later.”

“Or watch him flirt excessively,” Eret added, chuckling. “He’s hopeless.”

They all burst out into laughter, and Astrid felt the tension in her body lessen. It wasn’t all bad, she reminded herself. Her eyes wandered to the little pond as they passed it, to her beloved swans. But the surface was empty except for a handful of ducks, and, a little disappointed, her mind drifted back to the conversation.

“Ah, I think you’re a little mean,” she gently chided her brothers. “He’s allowed to flirt, remember? Just because you don’t feel like it doesn’t mean he can’t. And he’s polite enough about it anyway; I have yet to meet someone who complained about him.”

Laughing with good humour, Eret and Dagur agreed.

“Yes! The Snotman never gets complaints!” Dagur said.

“He’s too suave and debonair,” Eret commented, and with that, they continued on up to the path to the castle.

. o O o .

Dressing for the accolade took a while; her outfit for the night featured a gown of black satin with silver detailing, and was accessorized with a silver version of her swan coronet and a delicate silver brooch of a bear. But eventually she was deemed sufficient to outshine any of the other noblewomen in attendance and Tuff escorted her to the throne room. On her way, she mused about how different she felt compared to the other times she’d been about to reunite with one of her brothers lately.

For Eret’s accolade, her head had been filled with wayward thoughts about that stable boy she’d met, mourning about how she would never see him again. And later, she’d feared Hiccup might do something stupid, exposing himself during Eret’s accolade. And with Dagur at their reception, she’d been so afraid what could happen to Hiccup if Eret had seen them touching, and then there’d been Harold–

With force, Astrid pushed that thought out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about Harold, not ever again. He didn’t matter.

Taking a deep breath, she instead focused on what lay ahead of her. Snot’s accolade, the last big social occasion for a good while. Knowing that Hiccup wouldn’t be there tonight saddened her a little, but she knew that he was still avoiding bigger gatherings of noblemen if he could in order to not get recognised. She still hadn’t gotten around to actually ask him who he’d been before. But there had never been the right moment, and somehow, it didn’t really matter anyway. She knew who he was right now, knew that he was her future, and that was all she needed. Especially now with their separation looming over them.

A little while later, she sat in her usual smaller throne, next to her father and surrounded by the Fyrirs, and watched as the relatively short procession from Westhill entered the throne room. Off to the side were Sir Eret, Sir Dagur, and the Grand Duke of Eastervale – with Grand Duke Oswald currently convalescing from a debilitating but thankfully not life-threatening illness. While they were not part of the official witnesses, they were certainly more important than the other visitors of lower rank. When Snotlout came into view, wearing a black satin tabard with House Jorgenson’s bear embroidered in silver threads over a silken black shirt and silver chainmail, Astrid couldn’t help but grin. Both Eret and Dagur had looked rather funny in their exaggerated outfits, but for Snot, it somehow worked. He’d always been focused on how he looked, after all, and today he looked splendid.

Reaching the foot of the thrones, he went to one knee and bowed his head.

Try as she might, Astrid found herself losing focus as Snot recited the formulaic oaths. She’d heard them so many times before, after all. Instead, she found herself wondering how Hiccup would sound when he knelt where Snotlout was right now. Would she be able to keep a straight face when Hiccup swore before the gods to always defend a lady’s honour? The rest of the oaths, though, yes, she could see him managing those parts with panache. Always telling the truth... well, he could bend it like a pretzel, but he didn’t lie. Devoted to the gods, his lord, and the Temple? Definitely. Act with honour and charity and kindness? She managed to keep from scoffing and disrupting Snotlout’s accolade only because her princess mask was on. But the thought of Hiccup acting unkindly or with dishonour... no, it was rightly absurd. And the rest of it – oaths detailing preparedness for war and courage on the battlefield, and more? There was no doubt in her mind that he would excel.

Her father tapped Snotlout on the shoulders with Astrid’s grandfather’s sword – still sharp enough to shave with, according to Eret – and the newly minted Sir Snotlout of House Jorgenson rose back to his feet. He had a proud grin on his face, which grew even wider as he received similar gifts as Eret and Dagur had gotten before him, the traditional helmet and the additional sword and scabbard ornate with a bear and a swan in black and silver.

“Congratulations, man,” Eret greeted him with a slap to the shoulder after the stiff formation was loosing up.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Snot grumbled. "Just don't break my shoulder right away, all right? I still need it, you know?" His words held no venom though, and a moment later, another grin spread across his face. "Oh man, it's really good to see you again. I didn’t think it possible, but I actually missed you guys. It's good to see a couple of familiar faces in-between the thousands of nameless ones passing through Westhill these days."

"Aww, we missed you too," Dagur crooned and took Snot into an exaggerated hug. It made Snot protest, though not for long, and they all ended up laughing freely.

"It really is good to see you, Snot," Eret eventually agreed after they'd calmed again. "It's been too long. Two years now?"

Snotlout nodded. "Aye. I wish we could have come last year, but it's all chaos. The number of bandit and raider groups is growing, outposts are falling apart, and everybody, soldiers and residents alike, are losing their will to live. This war is going on for far too long now."

"Well, then it's up to us to change that, I guess," Dagur threw in, grinning. "But what about Daniel? I assume you met with him? How are his repairs of the outposts going? And what was the name of that other place? Redpeak?"

Snot nodded. "Aye, I've seen him, but only briefly; we barely got the chance to talk for longer than an hour. The repairs though..." he paused, frowning, then went on, "Well, it was quite a surprise to learn that he wouldn't see to the repairs of the outposts this year after all. Father was furious. Although, there seemed to be have been a good reason for the change of plans, because once Daniel and Father talked about it, my old man was far more agreeable. Do you guys know anything about it?"

"Not much," Eret said, shrugging. "Only that he wanted to alter Redpeak instead of the repairs, because something important came up, leaving him with less time than originally planned for. But I assume that is a good enough alternative, from the little I understood?"

Snot nodded again, even though he was still frowning. "It is. If he manages to make Redpeak usable, that would truly be an invaluable asset. Father's change of mind still surprised me though. Didn't think he'd take another delay so lightly. Ah, well, his actions rarely make sense to me anyway, so whatever." He shrugged the topic off, then turned with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes toward Astrid. "But I'm sorry, I forgot my manners. Fair Lady, please excuse me for not properly greeting you directly. May I say that you became even more beautiful since the last time we met? Seriously, your beauty is dazzling. If only we could bottle it and release it onto our enemies; they would stop fighting immediately and freeze in awe."

From nearly anyone else, words like these would have annoyed Astrid to no end. But this was Snot, and she knew well enough how to handle him. "Oh, stop that, you idiot," she snorted, and gave him a light punch to the shoulder. Certainly not suitable behaviour for the Princess, but they all knew how to take it, and Astrid didn't care much what others thought.

Snot burst out laughing, then took her into a friendly hug. "It's good to see you again, little sis. But I mean it, you did become more beautiful."

He winked at her as they parted, and, with a fond smile, Astrid rolled her eyes at him. Snot was and always had been a gigantic flirt. That was just who he was, but Astrid knew just how to take it. His compliments came freely, but they were honest, and even with his braggy and sometimes over-confident behaviour, he never crossed the line toward being obtrusive. He just loved the ladies, and more often than not, the ladies were quite fond of him too.

Still shaking her head with amusement over how Snot would probably never change, it surprised her when suddenly an unfamiliar voice spoke up, more closely than she'd expected for any stranger to come.

"Um, sir? How long am I supposed to wait here?"

Frowning, Astrid turned toward the source of that voice, just like Dagur and Eret did, while Snot let out a low groan. Behind him stood a boy, which he then led forward with a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

"Right," Snotlout muttered. "May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Astrid of House Hofferson, and the ducal heirs Sir Eret of House Jag'r and Sir Dagur of House Berserker. And this is Gustav of House Larsson, my squire."

Snot waved his hand from one to the other, and Astrid inspected the boy with a guarded expression. Even though the boy didn’t look anything like Dagur’s former squire had looked, meeting him still brought back memories of Harold. But just like before, she fought them down immediately, and once again wished that Hiccup was here. Even as she knew that he wouldn't be able to do much �� certainly not hold her, claim her, and keep other men from approaching her – him just being here, near to her, would have been good.

"How did you manage that?" cut Dagur's amused snicker into her thoughts, and Astrid focused on him instead of her dark mood. She threw Dagur a questioning look who was looking at the boy with clear amusement. "Where did you find a younger and even shorter copy of yourself?" Both he and Eret were visibly fighting laughter, and Astrid threw another look at the boy Gustav. And had to bite back a giggle too.

Even though he was much younger and, indeed, shorter than Snot, Gustav looked eerily similar to his master. Not as if they were related though, but more as if the boy actively tried to look as much like his master as was possible. Which was confirmed as the boy began to speak again.

"I’ve been looking up to Lo– Sir Snotlout for all my life,” he declared, beaming. “I always wanted to be just like him, a great warrior, beloved and admired wherever he goes, and I’m so grateful that he agreed to take me as his squire."

"’Beloved and admired wherever he goes’... Is that what you told him?" Dagur was barely able to keep himself together anymore.

"Hey, it's the truth," Snot shrugged, grinning. "I'm a hero, and everybody loves me."

Astrid felt as if a good smack on the head would do her brothers good, all of them, but before she could say or do anything else, Gustav turned his attention toward her.

"And I agree with my master. Highness, you really are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said, grinning, bowed, and reached for her hand to place a kiss on its back.

There was a moment of tense silence, Dagur and Eret momentarily sobering up again. But before either of them could say anything, Snot beat them to it. "Woah, Gustav, back off. I know you don't know better so I'll leave it at that. But for the future, no hitting on the Princess. She's like a sister to me, so that's just creepy."

Gustav looked clearly puzzled. "But you–"

"I know her since she was born," Snot interrupted him sternly. "And she knows it was just for fun. But I don't want to see anything like this ever again. Understood?"

"Yes, master," the boy said, obediently and clearly remorseful. "Please, excuse my bluntness, Your Highness. I-I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I’ll retreat now, if I may?"

"Yes, you are dismissed," Snot waved him off, not without a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, and then Gustav disappeared into the crowd.

"I'm sorry for that," Snot said with a light shrug. "He tries to be just like me, but doesn't know yet when to say something and when to hold his tongue. Something like that won't happen again."

Astrid nodded, arms wrapped around herself. She felt as if she ought to say something, but didn't know what, couldn't find her voice.

"You better make sure it doesn't," Dagur muttered, voice more serious than it had been all evening. From the corner of her eye, Astrid noticed him and Eret exchanging a quick glance, then Dagur pulled Snot to the side, talking in quiet voices. She could imagine all too well what Dagur was telling him, but she didn't want to think about Harold again. Instead, she focused on Eret's hand on her back as he led her to one of the high tables and gladly accepted the glass of wine after he'd waved over a servant.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

Astrid took a moment, but then nodded. "Yes, I am," she murmured. "I'm over what happened with... with Harold. I'm fine." She glanced up at Eret and gave him a weak if true smile. And she meant it. Sure, Gustav had woken unpleasant memories, but she wouldn't let them rule her.

And to her relief, Eret believed her. He nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Okay. But promise me to tell me if something's bothering you after all, okay? You only need to say it, and we'll take care of it, whatever it is."

His words made her laugh, warming her from the inside even though she knew he wouldn't be able to keep that promise. "Thank you. Really. But Gustav is not a problem."

Eret nodded again, but his expression became serious nonetheless. "Then what is? Because I can see that you're not happy."

Astrid's smile turned a little sad, and she averted her eyes. Eret knew her too well. She contemplated shrugging his concerns off, but she didn't feel like lying again, especially not to him.

"I'm not," she admitted. She hesitated, then nodded toward an empty sitting corner near a big window. They walked there, and once they'd sat down, Astrid continued. "You're right, I'm not happy. But even though I appreciate your promise to 'take care of it', I fear you won't be able to." Eret frowned, so, after biting her lip, she went on, at least telling him all she could tell him. "I wish you wouldn't have to leave," she said with shaky laughter. "I-I got quite used to... all your presence during the last few months, and I fear how it will be once you're all gone again." It wasn't a lie. It wasn't just that the thought of being separated from Hiccup was tearing her apart; she would also miss Eret and Dagur, and Snot as well, and feared falling into a hole of loneliness once they were gone.

Eret grimaced, and soothingly rubbed his hand up and down her back. “Yeah… You’re right, there’s not much we can do about that. I don’t think we can put off returning much longer. The weather is warm enough by now, and the herd needs to return to our pasturage lands.” He sighed, but then perked his head up with a wide grin. “But how about you visited us? You could come as guest of honour to Ester’s wedding? I’m sure your father would support such a show of allegiance, and my sister would be honoured to have you there. Maybe you could stay a couple of weeks, keep Mirja company so she doesn’t feel too lonely at first. And we could go on rides through the countryside; I could show you the lands and the people.” He gave a little shrug. “What do you say?”

“That would be wonderful!” Astrid agreed, a hopeful smile on her face. “And yes, I’m sure Father would allow that. That’s just the kind of representative duty I’m supposed to undertake as Princess, isn’t it?” She could literally feel her mood rising higher and higher the longer she thought about Eret’s suggestion. Getting out, getting to see more of their Kingdom, their people, spending time with Eret and his family, with the horses – and with Hiccup! If her father agreed, then they wouldn’t be separated for months on end after all. Sure, they would need to find new ways to meet in Eastervale, but that certainly would be manageable. A part of her wanted to jump up and ask her father right away, but she knew tonight was not the time. However, she would ask him as soon as possible.

“I’m glad I was able to lighten your mood,” Eret mused, smiling. “This is supposed to be a party, after all. Come on, let’s find Dag and Snot, and celebrate.”

Astrid spent the rest of the party in a surprisingly good mood, surprising to her at least. Despite the happy occasion and finally seeing Snot again, she hadn’t expected to really feel happy until she met up with Hiccup again later. But with the prospect of Eret’s suggestion and the cheerful company of her brothers, the night was filled with laughter and joy.

They spent hours reminiscing on fond memories and catching up on what had happened to all of them lately, and eventually – on Eret’s suggestion – crashed the party by turning it into a ball once more. At first, Snot had been reluctant, worried about how his father would certainly scold him for acting improperly. But with Dagur’s encouraging teasing and Eret’s reasoning about how this was Snot’s day and not his father’s, he was eventually convinced. They took turns dancing with Astrid, and before long more and more couples were joining them, the good mood quickly becoming contagious.

All in all, the day ended much better than Astrid had originally anticipated.

. o O o .

“Oh, Freya…” Hiccup moaned, a shiver running through his entire body. Astrid could tell that he was fighting to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at her, but every so often they fluttered shut despite his best efforts.

Astrid loved watching Hiccup like this. Because she was doing this! Everything, his pressed noises, his dazed eyes being unable to focus, his accelerated breathing, his flushed face, and his hands helplessly clenching at the straw beneath – all that were reactions to what she did, and it never ceased to fill her with amazement.

With measured motions, she kept stroking him, thrilling in the moment. It was only recently that Hiccup had loosened his strict rule, had allowed this to happen. He had been reluctant at first, but her curiosity and her reasoning that, even with her hand inside his trousers, he was still wearing them, had finally won him over. And by now, he certainly didn’t mind anymore anyway.

With a low groan, he gave in to her touch and let his head drop back into the straw, eyes closed. Freya, she loved doing this, all of it. Feeling him in her hand, hot and pulsing, was an incredible sensation, but seeing just how much Hiccup enjoyed her touch was something else altogether. She could have done this all night, but as so often, he eventually stopped her.

Without saying a word, Hiccup reached for her hand, and gently pushed her down into the straw. His kisses were surprisingly soft and sweet, despite the intense fire burning in his eyes. Astrid would have liked to go on, to make him come with her own hand, but she also didn’t mind as he blanketed her with his body, his hand wandering beneath her skirts. With maddening slowness, he stroked the pleasant warmth inside her into a raging fire, grinding into her until it consumed them both.

“And good evening to you too, milady,” Hiccup murmured into her hair as they both floated down back to reality. His voice was soft, thick with longing and love. “I’m glad to see you in a more cheerful mood. I reckon the party was to your liking then?”

Sighing contentedly, Astrid snuggled deeper into Hiccup’s warm embrace, amused by how, once again, they hadn’t gotten around to talk before. “Yeah, it was okay,” she hummed. “Better than expected. It was great to see Snot again after so long. He really hasn’t changed a bit. And Eret once again turned the occasion into some kind of ball. Uncle Spite wasn’t happy about the breach of decorum, I think. But Father didn’t seem to mind, even smiled when he saw how much fun we had, so Uncle Spite couldn’t really say anything.”

“Yeah, that does sound like fun,” Hiccup chuckled, then sighed. “I just wish…”

“...that you could’ve been there as well?” she continued when he didn’t, and Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

Hiccup shifted and, leaning over her, placed a soft kiss to her cheek. “One day, we will dance together,” he promised, murmuring against her skin. “I’ll come to you, open and for everyone to see, and ask you for a dance. Maybe they would stare and wonder, but it won’t matter. There will be only you and me. Forever.”

Astrid chuckled at his mellow words, even as the picture they painted was a beautiful one. “What makes you think you’ll be the on to ask?” she replied, and turned her head to seek his skin with her lips. “Maybe it’ll be ladies’ choice. I��d walk along the line of waiting men, not seeing any of them, only you…” she trailed off, humming against Hiccup’s lips as he kissed her.

“One day,” he murmured again.

Astrid pressed herself closer to his warmth, and nodded. One day they would be able to dance like that. She could hardly wait. But until then, they would still have to wait two long years, maybe even longer. And most of the time would stretch out endlessly.

“Oh, right,” she exclaimed when that thought stirred another one. “Eret suggested I should come and visit you.”

Hiccup seemed to need a moment before the words fully sank in. Then he pushed himself up in a halfway-sitting position. “What?” he exclaimed. “Did… did you tell him after all?” There was disbelieve on his face, but Astrid directly shook her head.

“No, of course not. I just… well, he asked what was upsetting me, and I told him that I'm sad you're all leaving so soon.”

Hiccup nodded, frowning, and Astrid suppressed a sigh. She knew that Hiccup thought letting at least Eret in on their secret would be beneficial. And maybe he was right, maybe Eret wouldn't tell on them. But even if he didn't – what good would it do them? She remembered Eret’s promise from earlier that night; how he would take care of whatever bothered her and how she’d instantly thought that he would never be able to keep that promise. As important as he might be, he still held no real power, just like herself. He couldn’t change his House’s plans so that he and Hiccup would stay here longer, nor could he gift Hiccup land and title. All telling him about her and Hiccup would do would be forcing him to lie for them.

“So, what did he mean about you visiting?” Hiccup eventually asked.

Astrid turned in his embrace so that she was able to look at him. “He suggested I should come for his sister’s wedding. Stay a couple of weeks.” She chuckled lightly. “It would still be a while until then, but it would at least be something?”

Hiccup nodded, hope gleaming in his eyes. “It would. Certainly better than not seeing you at all until next fall. I mean, sure, Eret and I are going to stop here before we head for Westhill and on our way back as well. But those would only be a couple of days at best.”

The prospect of those weeks in Eastervale helped soothe both their minds. The separation was still looming over them like a sword, but at least the burden was lighter now.

For a while, they settled for comfortable cuddles and soft caresses, both basking in each other’s presence. The day had been a long one with the hours here at the stables in the morning, getting ready for the accolade, and the festivities themselves. But even though she was tired, Astrid didn’t want to sleep. Not yet. Too precious were these last nights she could spend with Hiccup to waste them. Instead, she stirred as her mind threatened to drift off after all, and sat up.

“So, where did you store that book we were looking at earlier?”

Hiccup looked up at her, with only one eye open but his lips were stretched into a tiny smirk. “Really? That’s what you want to do now? Look some more at those pictures?”

She shrugged, managing something like an innocent but curious smile, and Hiccup laughed. They settled much like they had this morning, Astrid’s back against Hiccup’s chest and him looking down at the book in her lap over her shoulder. And despite Hiccup being far more relaxed than he had been earlier, she could still feel him stir again behind her after a while.

“Dear, Freya… I never thought you’d be that interested in looking at such pictures,” Hiccup muttered against her shoulder at some point, his fingers around her hips flexing.

Astrid giggled. “You don’t seem to mind them either. Although, I’m mostly curious. I never knew there were so many… options. I mean, I already knew about this–” she pointed at a drawing of a woman riding a man, ”–but this one looks a bit odd,” she commented the next, showing the woman on her hands and knees with the man kneeling behind her. “I can’t imagine that to be very comfortable.”

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable, exactly,” Hiccup murmured. “But it’s certainly not bad either. It’s actually a good position, you– the woman is supposed to feel more that way.”

Leaning back against him, she hummed. “Mmh, can’t wait until we can try all these.”

Hiccup chuckled, breathlessly. “Yeah, me neither.”

They flipped on through the pages, commenting on every single one. Astrid enjoyed winding Hiccup up a little. She understood his caution, she really did. But, Freya, she didn’t want to wait two more years. She wanted it all, now. She might be sensible enough not to push for it, but she could still dream.

“Huh… what’s this?” she asked when they reached a drawing where the man’s head was hardly visible, hidden between the woman’s legs.

Behind her, Hiccup whimpered, his face pressed into the crook between her neck and her shoulder.

“Hiccup?”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “It’s just… Gods, I’m dying to do this with you.”

Astrid glanced back at the page, giving it a closer look. But no matter how hard she tried, it didn’t make much sense to her. “What… is it?”

Hiccup, noticeably pulling himself together, swallowed. “It… it’s going down on you with my mouth. Making you come with my lips and tongue, licking and sucking and… and tasting you…” He broke off, his fingers on her waist almost bruising.

Astrid felt heat rise to her cheeks. She loved how his mouth felt on her skin, her neck and her breasts especially. But the idea of feeling him there…

“Why don’t you?” she asked, voice trembling slightly. “It wouldn’t… break any rules, would it?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t,” he affirmed, slowly. “It’s just that… I don’t know. It’s something different, special in a way. Or it feels that way to me, at least. And, well... I wanted to keep that for our wedding night.” He chuckled, sounding a little embarrassed.

Another kind of fire rose inside her at his words, not the heat of desire like before but more the comfortable warmth of love. Their wedding… Gods, if only they’d reached that day already.

The next page showed a reverse of the previous, the woman with her head between the man’s legs. But upon her question whether she could try this in return, Hiccup merely chuckled. She probably could… but he’d rather she be more experienced all over before she tried this. They moved on through more intriguing-looking pictures, one even seeming to be a combination of those other two, until they reach one that made Astrid laugh.

“Oh, look. They got it wrong there,” she snickered. Sure, she hardly knew anything about sex herself, but even she knew that that wasn’t supposed to go in there.

Hiccup choked on a suppressed laughter. “Actually, no, that’s exactly how they mean it,” he commented rather cheerfully. Astrid turned to give him an incredulous look, but Hiccup just shrugged. “Hey, it’s possible, obviously.”

“But…” she sputtered. “But that’s…” She glanced back at the page, checking whether she’d gotten it right.

“It’s actually not that much different,” Hiccup explained in a calmer tone, his smile still audible though. “I mean, of course, it doesn’t feel the same. But it can still feel really good too; mostly for men but for women too. It’s actually what Eret and Dagur do all the time, or how did you imagine they do it?”

“I…” Astrid began, frowning, but didn’t continue. She actually hadn’t thought about that technicality so far. But of course, it made sense. She leaned down to study the picture closer, thinking.

“We could do this… couldn’t we?”

Behind her, Hiccup instantly sobered up, stiffening. “Astrid,” he began, but she interrupted him directly.

“No, listen. From how I understand, this wouldn’t break my maidenhead, right?”

Hiccup nodded, reluctantly. “Right, but–”

“And it also couldn’t get me pregnant, right?”

“Yes, but–”

“No but,” Astrid interrupted him again, excited now. “We could do this, couldn’t we? Before you have to leave? Just once?” She’d turned around to fully look at Hiccup now, a strange hope flaring up inside her. She couldn’t even say why this was so important to her all of a sudden. But from one moment to the other, the longing to just be that close to him before they had to part, just once, became overwhelming.

But Hiccup was unyielding. “Astrid, this is madness,” he tried to dissuade her. “Anal sex… that’s not the best thing to start with. Besides, I don’t know nearly enough about it, only did it a couple of times. I-I wouldn’t know what I need to do in order to not hurt your, or–”

“Then you can ask Cami when you go see her tomorrow,” Astrid suggested, brushing all his concerns aside. She was hooked now. “And I trust you. You won’t hurt me,” she added, then paused when something else occurred to her. “Unless… unless you don’t want to do it?”

Hiccup had seemed more and more troubled, but at her last words, his frown broke into a soft smile. “Of course I want to,” he assured her. “I just want to do it right, you know? I don’t want to rush anything, and this,” he paused, gulping. “This feels like… cheating, you know? And...”

For a moment, his eyes glazed over a little, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. It was just for the blink of an eye, but it told Astrid enough. Yes, he was more than interested, only his sense of responsibility holding him back. She shifted closer, idly entangling her fingers with his. “Look, I understand. But can we at least consider it? Not for right now. But can we at least give it a try? Can you ask Cami about it tomorrow; what she thinks about it, what you’d need to know. And then we decide?”

At first, Hiccup still hesitated. But then he gave in, to his own curiosity and her eagerness alike. “Okay. I’ll talk to Cami about it tomorrow. But no promises, okay? If she says that it’s not a good idea for whatever reason, then that’s it, all right?”

Astrid pouted, but agreed. From the few times they’d met by now on various occasions, she knew that Cami was anything but prudish. She certainly wouldn’t be all that reluctant… or if she was then probably for a good reason.

. o O o .

Ah, yes... Astrid really is quite thirsty, isn't she? But let's be honest, who can blame her?

So, the last months have been easier for Hiccup and Astrid than they'd thought. But will that be true for the coming months as well? What will the future bring?

As always, I'm looking forward to hearing what you think :)

Next chapter

#FTLOAP #for the love of a princess #Hiccstrid #fanfiction #Hiccup and Astrid #fluff #lemon #medieval au #Royalty AU #httyd

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stantalentstansk-archive · 7 years ago

Text

Chan’s Clarinet Witchcraft Cult

Pairing: none

Genre: humor

Words: 1,552

A/N: I’d like to thank my friend @auraseek for giving me this idea whiles I was talking to her on the school bus about how I wanted to write a Stray Kids Band AU thanks beb you the best beb Lmao anyways this is based off of my experiences in a marching band clarinet section it’s wildt

“Alright everyone for the first 30 minutes of rehearsal today we’re going to have sectionals,” the band director, JYSnake, said. Minho, the section leader of the clarinet section, groaned knowing he would have to deal with 8 rowdy kids.

“Music library! Music library! Music library!” the kids chanted. For all of their sectionals they join together in the music library. It's just a room full of all of the music every single band and choir has performed over the years.

“Jisung! I was gonna sit in one of the comfy chairs this time! Minho, he's sitting in the chair I was gonna sit in!” Seungmin complained.

“My butt was on this chair before yours, therefore, I'm sitting here!”

“But I was-!”

“Hey does anyone know when Bam Bam is coming back?” Chan interjected. Bam Bam was the section leader last season. Sadly, he went on to college and stopped talking to the clarinet section due to college things.

“Chan, how many times do I have to say that Bam Bam is dead, he isn't the section leader anymore!” Minho said.

“But…. I miss Bam Bam”.

“I miss Bam Bam too,” Jeongin said before running over to Chan and hugging him, both squealing as they fake cried.

“Hey are we actually going to get work done today or are we going to sit here and cry over Bam Bam again?” Hyunjin asked.

“He has a point,” Felix stated.

“I mean, yeah, I get it you miss Bam Bam and all but he'll come and visit us… probably”.

“PROBABLY!?!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROBABLY??? HE'S DEFI-” Chan started before Jisung screeched.

“Thank you. Now I'm not usually one who wants to actually get work done in a sectional but I don't know, you're all just disrespecting our section leader Minho,” Jisung replied after he screeched.

“You know what I think? Minho is a witch! He's casting his evil spell onto Jisung to make him want to work on stuff during a sectional or worse, he's casting a love spell onto him!” Everyone gasped and looked at Chan all thinking the same thing Minho is a witch!

“Now listen here shitface, if anything you're the witch for accusing me of such a thing as casting a love spell on Jisung. He has his own weird mind and you thinking I'd do such a thing is criminal in its’ own occurrence. You know what I think of you Chan? You casted a love spell on Bam Bam that's why he never shut up about you last season. I seen you two together all the time, don't act like I didn't,” Minho angrily replied. Everyone looked back and forth between Minho and Chan trying to figure out who the real witch is.

“You know what, I think Chan is the witch as well,” Seungmin interrupted. The room started to fill with arguments as to who the witch was. Is it Chan? Or is it Minho? No, they're both witches.

“WHAT IF WE'RE ALL WITCHES!” Jeongin screamed.

“OH MY GOSH YOU'RE RIGHT,” Woojin screamed back.

“IT COULD BE YOU, OR YOU, OR YOU, OR EVEN ME OH MY GOD!”

“I'M SO SORRY MOM FOR NOT BELIEVING YOU WHEN YOU SAID SINNING WOULD MAKE ME TURN INTO A WITCH,” Seungmin cried. Soon the room was filled with clarinets cluttering the countertops, tear-stained music, loud screeching, and a giant mob of people huddling in a corner crying. They didn’t know what to think, all they could ask themselves over and over again is if they were actually witches. Of course everyone was startled by the situation but soon enough one member calmed down enough to start talking.

“Does… does this make us a coven now?” Changbin asked, still sniffling

“I guess…?” Minho replied.

“No come on we can't be a coven because I'm not a witch,” Chan interjected.

“YES YOU ARE STOP LYING TO US!”

“NO I'M NOT!”

“I don't mean to interrupt but aren't we already a cult? How can we a coven and a cult?” Hyunjin asked.

“CULT! CULT! CULT! CULT!” Felix started yelling, the others soon joining in after him.

“Wait stop yelling!” Jisung shouted. “Okay, obviously Chan has done some acts of witchcraft in the past with Bam Bam, for example, but that doesn't mean all of us are witches-“

“What if instead of becoming a coven we become a sisterhood?” Minho questioned

“And then a coven!” Changbin excitedly stated.

“Maybe...”

“YAY!-“

“But only if we’re all okay with it”. Everyone let out a huge sigh of relief knowing that nobody would be forced to join a coven. Being a sisterhood is only the first step to that however…

“Hey Felix how have you been?” Minho asked whilst holding out his hand to do the sisters wiggly finger… thingy… I don’t know what it’s called okay give me some slack here I’m only an author it’s not like I know everything.

“I’ve been good, you?” Felix replied whilst returning Minho’s sisters wiggly finger gesture thingy.

“I’ve been stressing out man I mean, with the scheduled sectionals starting next week and band camp next month I have a lot to prepare for”.

“Wow, being section leader must be hard work”.

“It really is. I thought it was going to be so much easier than this bu-“ Minho was interrupted by Seungmin’s bottom half of his clarinet falling to the ground.

“NO MY BABY!” Seungmin screamed.

“OH MY GOD IS THE INSTRUMENT OKAY!”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CLARINET!”

“IS SHE ALRIGHT!”

“WHO HURT THE BABY!” The room started to fill with screams as everyone tried to figure out if the Seungmin’s clarinet, which he named Ji-yun, was alright. Ji-yun was okay, Seungmin, however, is still rattled by the situation.

“Seungmin, how many times do we have to remind you to hold Ji-yun from the bottom half not the top half like some uncultured swine!” Hyunjin told Seungmin.

“I- I forget easily… y-y- you all know this,” Seungmin mumbled, still sniffling from the fear that his precious Ji-yun would be broken.

“Hey,” Hyunjin said whilst hugging Seungmin, “She’s okay, if Ji-yun is okay you should be okay as well”. Seungmin shook his head signaling for Hyunjin to let go of him.

“I know but still… Ji-yun is a wood clarinet if she broke I would be paying four hundred dollars worth of repairs-“

“Will you two stop being so cute god, all you two do is remind me of exactly what I don’t have!” Changbin exclaimed.

“What? That you don’t have Fel-“ Hyunjin tried to finish the sentence and was abruptly cut off by Changbin putting his hand over his mouth. We can all just assume what Hyunjin was trying to say and hope we all think the same thing…. *sigh*

“Alright can we have everyone sit down please! We are going to go out onto the field today to work on some marching basics. You know the drill, just go out there and make shapes with your instruments and whatnot,” JYSnake told the band. Everyone hurried out of the music area to go out onto the field except for the clarinet section who kept bickering with their own section members and were slowly, but surely, making it out onto the field.

“You know what witch, you better stop with all of what you’re doing because I am not having any of this,” Woojin said.

“Oh yeah! Well you better watch out I may be shorter than you but that won’t stop me from taking your precious Ye-rin and putting a dent in her,” Changbin angrily replied back.

“No! How could you do that! Ye-rin is a perfectly beautiful clarinet! Put one little dent in her and I will end you shorty!”

“You did not-“

“How would you like it if I bent a key on Gyu, huh? Would you like that!?”

“WILL THE TWO OF YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!? WE BARELY MADE IT OUT THE DOORWAY AND YOU’RE STILL YELLING AT EACH OTHER!” Minho screamed. Everyone was surprised, even people who weren’t in the clarinet section. Minho never raised his voice but when he did you knew he was angry. Everyone remained quiet the rest of the way to the field. To the clarinet section not having any noise feels weird, no, it actually feels very lonely. The section sat down by each other but it was still silent until the youngest boy decided to speak up.

“What… what shape should we make today? I was personally thinking a witch but it doesn’t have to be a witch…” Everyone was still silent until Chan stood up.

“Fine, I’ll admit it now rather than later. I guess we’re all witches so that makes m… me a w-w-w…”

“Oh come on will you just say it already?!” Jisung exclaimed.

“Okay okay! I’m a witch too and I see that now. We’ve all done some bad things so we’re all witches, each and every single one us clarinet playing losers”.

“That was the sappiest yet most weirdest thing I have heard anyone ever say,” Felix stated. Everyone agreed and went along forming a witch with their clarinets. Although the boys weren’t all too happy about being a cult, a sisterhood, and a coven they still have one thing that makes them really happy which is being together in marching band.

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writingfuzzy · 8 years ago

Text

Ghost writer’s bet chap 3

Chapter 3

The school day is finally over and all the students are making their way home after yet another day of education, all happy for it to be over until the next day. Ghost Writer personally had no feelings regarding it, he liked education but he himself is since long ago done with school. So he had spent all class hours to read or writer as he waited for the boy to come back out into the hallway.

Speaking of the boy.

Looking down from his place in the air the author catches sight of his target, coming out the doors to the school yard. A dark skinned jock laughs as he passes the ghost child and don’t even notice how he pushes the short boy into the door frame. Writer tries to think nothing of it, he doesn’t think anything of it aside from the simple notion of how these kind of things keeps reoccurring for the halfa.

Aside from the times that the child left his lessons for ghosts, which was a multitude of times, there had also been a theme for the halfa to be disturbed and mocked multiple times by his peers, for the whole of the day that Writer had stalked him he had so far counted up to 12 different occurrences of bullying on the halfa, and that was only for today. It had been a variation from the brutal kind he first witnessed at the first break, and down to the kind of name calling. And more often than not had the ghost seen how an adult was nearby but did nothing to stop the situation or reprimand the offending party. Still he saw no reason for why he should particularly care, it isn’t like the child is incapable to stop it he had just for some reason decided not to.

Ghost Writer huffs, if anything so is Danny encouraging this bad behavior of his peers, by repeatedly letting himself be a target and a victim that never does anything to stop it, it makes it so that those that are causing harm is learning that they can get away with it.

Looking down again from his position near the top of the entrance doors he sees when the halfa’s friends comes out from the building and joins their friend on their walk home. At least that is where the ghost is assuming they headed.

Drifting down to A, make certain that he don’t trigger that ghost sense by slipping in and out of its area, and B, to be close enough to hear what they might say between each other. Normally Writer wouldn’t care to do something so stupid like eavesdrop but he still have yet to find anything discriminatory against the boy.

Well he do believe he has some few things already, or one, the boy do not care for his education. That for Writer alone is proof that the boy is both ignorant and illiterate. That and the amounts of fights he throws himself into indicate that he holds violent more to heart than anything else. When all this sounds logical for the librarian he is also sadly aware that it is simply speculation from his side and that there is no way that the stubborn woman from before would agree to it being enough. Especially not with how she had stressed the “sharable” bit of the deal.

Actually, he probably could steal a copy of the ghost child’s grades to use as evidence. Yet it wouldn’t be of any use when the subject for the deal is to prove whose fault the Christmas incident was. And so long as he couldn’t make any direct links between the child’s none existence grades to that event there would be no point to even look into it.

For what felt like the thousands time, Ghost Writer sigh. If he at the very least could interact with the brat this would be a lot easier.

He gives his thoughts a pause at that. He couldn’t interact with the child? Where in the rules does that come up exactly, the only two rules that he can recall that apply is the one about confronting the child on the subject for the bet and the other is about interfering in ongoing events of his life. But neither of those rules explicitly forbids all interactions. Ghost Writer knows he will have to look over what he wrote down about the rules but he is certain that he technically can interact just fine with the target.

And that opens up for the possibility of tripping him up. Just because he himself isn’t allowed to bring up that subject that doesn’t mean he can’t course the kid into doing it instead. And the event thing says nothing about not causing other evenest for the child, only not to stop ongoing ones.

Silently the ghost smirked as he continued to follow the group of three. It wasn’t until the black clad girl asked about the halfa’s day that he zoned back from his reverie.

“You were missing for a while in second class.”

“Yeah man, normally it’s just a few minutes but this was more to 20 minutes. What happen? Did Skulker get an upgrade again or something.”

This is uninteresting, it is about that blond jocks assault. And just as he thought that is what the halfa answered. “The janitor was there in the hallway so I couldn’t get out until after he had left.”

“Rough.” That was Tucker’s only comment as he went back to his PDA, Sam on the other hand went a little longer.

“This is what I keep talking about, the teachers are so ignorant of the football teams behavior it’s ridiculous.” She made a frustrated sound as she fling her arms around. “Just shows you how corrupt our day’s society is.”

Danny smiled at her rant but said nothing, Tucker on the other hand huffed. “Yeah, and it’s not like they are any good either. I mean did any of you guys see their last match against Elmorttown? It was brutal.”

From there the discussion went on shifting around about different faults in the social structure and general complains. It made Ghost Writer frown. He had noticed it early in the conversation between the children but had thought they would address it later on, not once had either of the other two asked the halfa of how he felt and if he was hurt.

Shut in he may be but he is after all an author and the friend code usually involves such things as care and concern.

“Right, hey Danny,” Sam directed towards the halfa that snapped to attention with a confirming hum, “what happen to Dash afterward. Did he leave you along after that?”

Ah, even if a bit late it seems that the expected concern questions would arrive now. Danny hummed for a bit before answering, “He threw some paper balls at me during history and stole my food at lunch but otherwise nothing more happen, I didn’t try to get back at him.”

Sam about to say something got intercepted by Tucker. “Dude, he deserves a a knock down from that pedestal of his. Maybe you can do that locker prank again.”

Danny open his mouth to answer but Sam beat him to it. “No way Tucker. Dash doesn’t even look for anyone else anymore then Danny for the culprit. And you can’t have Danny keep doing things like that with his powers. Someone will catch him.”

“But then it doesn’t matter, if he will blame Danny anyway why not be the one that actually have done something. And no way will he get caught, it’s been a little more than a year and no one have gotten a clue about it. So relax, it’s totally safe.”

Raising his hand Danny again tried to talk only to be spoken over by Sam, again. “Not only would that be morally questionable but it would be abuse of his power.”

“Oh come on Sam.”

“Lay off Tucker.”

From there it continued back and ford with short or long responses and insults. Both discussing the right use for the halfa’s abilities. For some reason felt Ghost Writer disappointed in them, disappointed and annoyed. That were their version of worry and care? Not only had the directed questions for what had happened to him been made up by one single question, but they had left the subject and gone off on a tangent.

And then it is the matter of how the ghost child didn’t even mention the times he had gone off to fight ghosts, be it under break time or in the middle of a lesson.

“And where were you at the breaks Danny? We only saw you a short moment at lunch today and even then you disappeared shortly after.”

Maybe Ghost writer spoke to soon after all.

Rubbing his neck the halfa answered, “When I wasn’t running from Dash or his buddies it was pretty mush ghost fight upon ghost fight, sorry guys that I didn’t get to spend time with you.”

“Who were it and why didn’t you ask us for help?”

“Yeah we could have helped man.”

“Because you would have gotten late to the classes and we don’t need all of us getting detention.” He stops as he facepalm. “Detention, I forgot. I have detention. Sorry guys you go home, see you for patrol.”

“Sure Danny. See ya.”

Sam scowled. “You really have to try harder to not get these slips. Your grades can’t take well to this.”

“Tell me about it. Well bye.” And Danny sprints back into school. Writer looks over his shoulder at the two other children as they left and he followed the halfa back indoors. Frowning, so his target cared about others education at least but his friends sound to be about the same opinion on their own studies as he is on his own. Treating it as something none important.

Huffing silently and cursing i his mind for not being able to make sounds and having to be overly careful he and the halfa shortly arrived at their destination, the detention. Joy.

And the one holding the detention was the English and lit teacher. That at the very least is good. Out of all the teachers on the school that Ghost writer got to hear in the background he found this one the most responsible, he for one reprimanded the halfa when said being decided to leave the lesson or come late due to ghost fighting. It also helped that he is teaching inside subjects of interest for the ghost librarian. Even if he hadn’t listened in completely to the lesson to hear how good this teacher’s lesson really was.

No matter, he was going to be stuck here for a while and more certainly then not will have to sit outside this lesson again at some point.

As the halfa walked and sat down at a desk in the back Ghost writer chose to hover near the ceiling on the other side of the room in the back. Aside from the teacher there were no others here so he saw little point in sitting outside for this hour.

It annoyed him with how obvious it was that Danny is no stranger to detention, not with how he clearly knew what to do under it as he immediately took out different study books and what he would guess to be homework, which the child started to work with.

At least he didn’t waste his detention time as he did his class hours.

Ghost writer had finished reading his book in the last class so he took out his own note book and in cover of Danny’s own scratching of pen, started to write. And so the hour went, Danny flipping pages in one book or other as he wrote down notes or filled in assignments, Writer wrote down two new scenes to a novel idea he had ongoing and the teacher in the front read in a book about slang among youngsters.

As the clock read out 15.30 Lancer look up from his desk and look over to the only student in the room. “Detention is over mister Fenton. I would say I hope not to see you here again, but with your track record that don’t seem probable. See you later Mr. Fenton.”

Saying nothing Danny left the room with his head down. Unaware of the ghost following after him, who is silently brooding yet again regarding the child and his attitude for school, seeing how he had not even tried to deny that he would be back in detention.

They had barely gotten two steps out from the building when Danny’s mobile went off. Flipping it open and answering he look tired but sounds almost peppy.

“Hello.”

Writer can’t hear the conversation on the other side of the phone.

“I would want to, really, but remember how my parents grounded me last week? That isn’t over just yet. You could try meeting up at my place.”

“…”

“Oh, okay then, that’s fine. See you two at patrol instead?”

“…”

What happens at Sam’s?”

“…”

“I thought she hated those kind of things.”

There were a bit of louder sounds from the other side of the phone before another pause until Danny spoke again.

“Ah. Try to make yourself unnoticed for a while before slinking off to a corner, it should work for the most part. Or you could try repeating the fact it is only for a evening and try convincing the adults to let you go early. After all you parent do care for your grades Sam.”

There were some more sounds before Danny laughed a little. “Well I’m almost home, and seeing how I got detention again mom and dad may be taking my phone. I will see Tucker tonight and you tomorrow then Sam.” “Yeah, bye.”

He flipped it back closed before stepping up to his door and into his home. Ghost writer hesitated for a moment, it had been no trouble being here earlier in the day but that was only a short passing through as he searched for the halfa. Taking a breath he went in, he was going to be forced to spend time in there either way at some point so best to get used to it as soon as possible.

Inside he met the scene of one halfa getting shewed out by two angry parents. One of which is holding a report card in their hand. It would seem Ghost writer wouldn’t need to search for how badly Danny really were doing in school, as said child’s parents read up aloud just how bad it indeed is.

#ghost writer's bet #dannyxghostwriter #danny #Danny Phantom #ghostwriter #fanfiction

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misssophiachase · 8 years ago

Photo

Well it's certainly been a long time between updates but it's tennis season here at the moment and I'm so excited! Heading to the Australian Open and can't wait : ) So enough about me, onto chapter 8!

This is dedicated to the lovely @iart1992 who is an avid follower of this fic : ) and to @romanoffsbite for the awesome cover!

Game. Set. Match

Chapter 8: Every 1's a Winner

Arbory Bar: Southbank, Melbourne, Australia - 25 January

"Forbes and Mikaelson have surprised everyone with a quarter finals finish at the first major tournament of the year," John McEnroe commented. "We saw glimpses of their potential when they reached the third round in Qatar but after their undisciplined performance in Sydney I had my doubts."

"You weren't the only one," former tennis champion Jim Courier concurred. "It looks like they've rallied and even though it's early days in the season I think we are going to be seeing a lot more from this dynamic, mixed doubles pairing as they storm their way up the international rankings."

"I never thought I'd be this excited by a quarter finals placing but it's like music to my ears," Enzo grinned turning away from the big screen television they'd erected over the bar. They'd assembled at one of the most popular places in town which also happened to be the longest in the southern hemisphere and overlooking the famed Yarra River.

"Watch out Rotterdam Open next month," Matt celebrated, popping the bottle of champagne open with a loud bang.

Klaus and Caroline gazed at each other wearily across the table. Although they'd decided their pairing was ending after the Australian Open they hadn't broken it to their enthusiastic coaches just yet who were too busy celebrating their success. They hadn't expected to do so well and Klaus figured the relief at breaking up the partnership was responsible for it. It also didn't hurt that their dinner the other night had gone surprisingly well with no arguments. He actually thought they were making progress, pity about the poor timing.

"Why so glum, gorgeous?" Enzo asked, passing Caroline a glass of the golden bubbly. "Look, I know you're planning on ways to torment Mikaelson and I for one am excited to see what you come up with but could you at least wait until we properly celebrate your joint success?" Klaus chose to ignore the insult, he was getting used to Enzo's supposed humour after all this time together.

If he was being honest Klaus was regretting letting her go so easily, it was obvious they were a good tennis pairing and all they needed to do was stop fighting and focus on their game. He'd genuinely felt bad about the way he acted with Tyler but he was only looking out for her best interests. He'd never forgive that bastard for what he did to Rebekah. There was also a small, niggling part of him that cared about Caroline's wellbeing. Klaus decided to blame that on the stressful situation they'd been thrown into.

He considered trying to change her mind but she had been fairly insistent and Klaus was worried she'd think he was being self serving because of the precarious situation with his Nike contract. For once Klaus hadn't even thought about that consideration.

"Stop encouraging her, Enzo," Rebekah chided joining them at the table with Kol in her stride.

"Oh if it isn't the Brady Bunch!" Enzo exclaimed. "That fierce protective side makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, gorgeous."

"I just don't want to clean up his mess, I already do enough of that already," she scowled at Enzo, taking a seat by Klaus.

"I'm not that bad," Klaus argued noticing Kol trying to stifle his laughter. "Anyway, what's got into you?"

"It's all of this gorgeous Australian sunshine and women," Kol sighed.

"Last time I checked you were complaining about your sunburn courtside and the only woman you seem to be shamelessly throwing yourself at currently is Bonnie," Rebekah groaned.

"Rebekah!" He hissed.

"It's okay Kol, we all know about your thing for our little Bon Bon," Enzo laughed. "In fact it's become quite entertaining watching you make a fool of yourself. We even have bets on how long it will take for her to slap you."

"I'm surprised by her willpower to be honest," Matt joked. "I had money on last week."

"You're all bloody hilarious, I should have stayed at the hotel with Elijah and Izzy, I probably would have had more fun," he growled, heading to the bar. "I'm going to get myself a much needed drink."

"Where is Bonnie anyway?" Enzo asked Caroline.

"Bonnie said she was going to take a rest at the hotel but that she'd meet us later."

"Yeah a rest from Kol's pestering," Matt replied. "Maybe if she'd slapped him last week she'd be Kol free by now and I'd have an extra $100 in my pocket."

"You guys seriously made a bet?" She baulked looking between Matt and Enzo.

"Well, why not?"

"I don't know because it's childish," Caroline bit out. "I can't wait until Katherine hears about this."

"Who do you think came up with the idea?" Enzo chuckled. "Where is the annoying, feisty brunette anyway?"

"I'm not sure to be honest but when Katherine doesn't share her plans it's usually for the best, if you know what I mean," Caroline mumured. "There's only so much detail I can take."

"As much as I love talking about Katherine's sex life, I'd really prefer we outline our plans for the Netherlands next month, we need to keep up the momentum," Rebekah ordered, back to business as usual.

"Well, the plan is to go and play some tennis. I mean that's just a hunch," Enzo answered, a wicked grin etched on his face.

"If someone needs a damn good slapping it's you, Lorenzo," she drawled.

"Someone obviously likes it a bit rough but I'd be more than willing to entertain you, gorgeous," Enzo purred. Klaus noticed his sister's cheeks flush, something that wasn't a very common occurrence. He could have sworn there was something more than a begrudging working relationship going on between them. If it was, his sister certainly worked fast. He shook his head deciding that he didn't really want to entertain those untoward thoughts.

"Okay, time out," Caroline interrupted, almost like she was reading his mind. "Klaus and I actually have an announcement to make." For once the table was quiet and they had everyone's undivided attention. "We are calling it quits."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Well since you asked so nicely Rebekah, we decided it was best that we part ways professionally," Klaus murmured, backing her up even though he didn't agree.

"But you just made the quarter finals in only your third tournament," Matt said, his bewildered expression not lost on Klaus. "And it wasn't just any tournament it was the Australian Open, only the best of the best qualify to compete here."

"I think they know all of that, Matt," Enzo replied knowingly. "What is really going on here? Did you call her names again or did you hit him with more projectiles? It's just a bit of endearing fun even if your coaches don't think so at the time."

"That's exactly it, Enzo," Caroline argued. "We don't get along, infact all we do is fight and you've just proven that."

"Well, call me crazy but this tournament was the first time I actually saw you getting along, that's why you did so well, Caroline." Klaus knew it was true but he didn't want to put any added pressure on her especially given the current interrogation they were being subjected to.

"Yes because we decided beforehand we were going to end things for good," she insisted.

"Oh, so you didn't think about telling us about this little arrangement?"

"Calm down, little sister," Klaus warned. "At the end of the day this decision is for us to make, no one else."

"Well it's a stupid decision," Rebekah huffed.

"For once I agree with Rebekah and that doesn't happen often," Enzo agreed. "All we ask is that you think about it and don't make a rash decision. What I saw today was bloody good teamwork and it would be a waste to lose that."

"And I don't usually agree with Enzo but he's right," Matt added. Klaus looked across at Caroline, it was obvious by her pensive expression that she was deeply torn about what to do.

Crowne Plaza Hotel, Melbourne

"When I told you about Izzy's fever I didn't expect a personal house call," Elijah said as he opened the door to the brunette, her arms laden with snacks and toys. Katherine had to hide her excitement at finding the eldest Mikaelson in his usual suit but surprisingly casual with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his tie loosened around his neck. Why did this gorgeous, married guy continue to get even more handsome?

After their surprise flight together to Australia, Katherine and Isobel had really bonded over Frozen and surprisingly she'd found that her and Elijah had quite a bit in common, well except for their relationship status of course.

"Well, I was at a loose end."

"You didn't want to join the tennis stars at their celebration?"

"I can only take so much of their banter and don't get me started on Kol's obvious attraction to Bonnie," she quipped. "Anyway, I thought this was too good an opportunity to miss watching Finding Dory, I mean we are in Australia after all."

"You realise the majority of that movie takes place in California, right?"

"I didn't know you were the authority on children's movie locations?"

"I do my research before letting my daughter watch anything, I'm kind of..."

"I would have said anal but have a feeling you were going to go with thorough?" She replied finishing his sentence. "Does that mean we can't watch it because I was really looking forward to it if I'm being really honest?"

"Well, I'd hate to deprive you of that opportunity Miss Pierce."

"Hey, you have a child which gives you an excuse to indulge in animated movies, I have no such excuse," she said, pushing past him and into their suite. "So, where is the sick, little girl? I also have games and toys she might enjoy. Oh and it's Katherine by the way, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I never took you for the child type," he murmured.

"Well, you obviously don't know me very well yet," she scoffed. "My twin sister Elena has two children and I'm their favourite aunt, granted I'm their only aunt but that doesn't matter."

"I should have known given your ability to recite the entire script of Frozen unprompted," he chuckled.

"Don't think I didn't see you joining in on a few of those lines," she grinned.

When she'd convinced Elijah to let her sit with Isobel, Katherine hadn't imagined he'd end up next to her after another passenger offered to trade seats. Once the little girls had fallen asleep a few hours into the flight the two of them had discussed just about everything, except the obvious elephant in the room which was his wife. He didn't raise Tatia and Katherine felt weird bringing it up herself given they were practically strangers. Elijah seemed like an honourable kind of guy but why would this woman still call him her husband when it was clear he didn't wear a wedding ring?

"That's what happens when you are forced to endure the same movie a hundred times."

"You secretly liked it, I could tell," she smiled, placing her goodies on the couch. Katherine was a smart woman and she always did the proper thing but when it came to Elijah she couldn't retain some space given his situation, although the fact he had messaged to let her know she was unwell seemed to illustrate he was doing the same thing.

"Katherine," the little girl in question sang. She was wrapped in a light blue dressing gown her brown hair unkempt and a telling pale complextion. Katherine's heart immediately went out to the sick, little girl. "You're here."

"I am Izzy and I brought you a few things, you know if you're well enough to play with them," her sudden, happy expression told Elijah he only had one thing to say and that was yes. She'd been so weak and tired the past few days and it was wonderful to see some enthusiasm back in his little girl's brown eyes and it was all because of Katherine Pierce.

Arbory Bar, Melbourne

"I come in peace and in need of alcohol," Bonnie said, approaching Kol tentatively at the bar who was nursing a glass of scotch.

"It's okay, if you want to slap me I understand," he muttered, thinking back to Enzo's words. "If anything someone might win a bet out of it."

"A bet?" She asked in confusion. Kol inwardly sighed with relief, at least she didn't know about their stupid arrangement.

"It's nothing," he replied. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'd love a vodka," she shared. "I'm still trying to get over the surprise quarter finals result to be honest."

"We all were until they decided to announce that they are ending their tennis partnership," Kol scoffed, gesturing to the barman for another drink.

"I'm sorry? I've been absent for what a few hours and this happens?" She squeaked. "Tell me this is a joke?"

"Apparently not," he responded. "They were unconvinced until they left here a half hour ago, Enzo and Matt are hoping it was temporary insanity and they'll come to their senses sooner rather than later."

"But why?"

"I wasn't there but apparently it has something to do with their inability to get along."

"Okay, now you've said it that wasn't difficult to guess," she drawled, taking the glass gratefully. "But after that win? They seemed so in sync on court for once."

"That was already covered, trust me," he explained. "It's probably best we just wait and see what happens, those two can be sensible every now and again."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" He asked, his brown eyes boring into hers deeply.

"Make everything sound like it's all going to be okay."

"You haven't grown up as the youngest of the Mikaelson siblings. Given all the dramatics you had to hope everything was going to right itself, even if it didn't feel that way at the time," he offered. "We could sit here and worry about it until morning or make better use of our time."

"What did you have in mind?" Bonnie asked, cocking her left eyebrow.

"Does that mean you might be interested?"

"Possibly," she answered, sending him her best smile. "Just as long as you don't try and hit on me again."

Southbank Bridge, Melbourne

"Why do I suddenly feel like it's the French Open again and I'm at the Pont des Arts in Paris?" Caroline asked noticing the stray locks attached to the bridge over the Yarra as they walked across it towards their hotel. They'd left the bar desperate to get away from the judgmental looks from their coaches and his sister in particular about their decision.

"Because they've obviously tried to recreate it here," he said. "Not that it's my kind of thing of course, Forbes."

"Well, that I'm not surprised about it Mikaelson," she teased. "Romance isn't really your thing."

"It might be," he spluttered, "You know if I'm in the mood and really tried."

"You realise being in the mood for possible romance doesn't mean sex, right?" His face softened in realisation at her inferrence. "That takes a lot more effort."

"Why?"

"You're hilarious, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Numerous times actually, love," he promised. Klaus was trying to ignore just how cute she looked in her blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"It's habit I guess and before you say it, it has nothing to do with its tennis score," he said. "You seemed torn before about our decision, if you don't mind me saying."

"Oh, because it would help your situation, right?"

"I never said that," he implored, placing his arms on her shoulders so that she stood still on the middle of the bridge as the city lights twinkled in the distance. "I'm onboard with whatever you decide." They held each other's gaze for what seemed like ages, completely oblivious to the passing foot traffic, some of whom recognised the celebrities in their travels.

"We did play extremely well," she shared. "Well, I certainly did anyway."

"It seems like someone has made an impression on you."

"Yeah an arrogant someone," she shot back, her bright, blue eyes blazing as she said it. "I just won't take his crap anymore so if he's willing to cooperate and not act like a five year-old then I'm willing to reconsider my decision." Klaus laughed, she always had that effect on him. "And to take this seriously."

"I agree," he replied solemnly, finally removing his arms from her shoulders even though every shred of his being was screaming at Klaus to stay in that very position for some reason. "So, how about we celebrate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do something to cement our partnership."

"I am not getting a tattoo, Mikaelson, even if your face looks pretty on my skin."

"I had something else in mind, if you're game of course?"

You can read it and review on FF HERE

#game set match #sophia chase #every 1's a winner #klaroline fanfiction #romanoffsbite

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