#for a while there it reached like 120k

[naomisalman]

THIRD DRAFT IS DONEEEEEEE

done done done done done

DONE!

i am starting to be actually real happy w this book lads :/ i want other people to read it so bad??

[laswells-ashtray]

KATE LASWELL AND CO BOARDGAME NIGHT. POSSIBLY DRINKING. MAYBE MARIJUANNA.

I'm saying Kate, her wife, John and Nik because Kate and John would never let the lads see them high.

Sarah insists that they play Game of Life because no one is getting through Monopoly if her stash is involved. They don't go your typical route and share a joint. No, Sarah likes baking so they have brownies.

It starts off fine, they're still a bit stiff around the shoulders. A little too professional for a board game. Nikolai and Sarah use their critical thinking skills and bring out a selection of various snacks before ordering pizza.

And then Kate starts smiling when she's reading out a card, she's flashing her pearly white teeth and Nikolai is half sure she doesn't know she's doing it. "Your pet goat wins a ribbon. Collect 120K from the bank."

It's a ridiculously unfunny card but the way John snickers makes Nikolai laugh and in the back of his mind Nikolai quickly realises that the brownies are kicking in. Sarah is still content and happy, no change in her.

"Pet goat?" John asks with far too much glee for something so simple.

"What kind of lesbian doesn't have a pet goat?" Sarah remarks, feigning offence.

Nikolai rolls his eyes and points to the board on the table. "She isn't a lesbian, she started off as a blue figure."

John had immediately claimed the blue car, Nik had taken the pink while no one was looking and it'd left the women to fight over who got the green car. Kate had won and coincidentally, Nikolai had pretended not to see how Sarah had offered her chest a feel.

"Lesbians can be blue, John. You English bigot." Kate retorts, barely biting back a laugh. The relaxed, almost giggly aura looks good on her. Nikolai has seen her during the hardest days of her career and he thinks she deserves as much happiness as she's feeling now. John might be his partner but Kate is one of his closest friends and he'd be lying if he said it didn't warm his heart to see the both of them so happy. Even if they're high as shit.

John only lets out a loud bark of laughter in response, sinking back into the couch cushions.

He watches as Sarah leans over and snatches a pack of Chips Ahoy from the table, tearing it open carelessly and shoving one in her mouth with a quite frankly pornographic moan that is hysterically funny to him. He briefly considers stealing one but John is slumped against his side and there's no way in Hell he can escape out from under him.

Kate looks back to her wife and then at the arrangement of snacks on the table before looking back to Sarah. "Hand me the Doritos."

Sarah does not have the grace to swallow the cookie before answering and it makes Nikolai chuckle. "Get them yourself."

"Give me the Doritos or I'll pinch you."

Sarah grabs the bag with a dramatic look of irritation. "Only because you'd pinch my tit."

Nikolai thinks John is half asleep with how quiet the other man is until someone knocks on the Laswell's front door, the undeniable joy on John's face is something he wishes he could photograph if he could remember where he sat his fucking phone.

The other man drags himself off of the couch and towards the front door with a pep in his step that Nikolai swears he's never seen before.

"Even walks like a gayboy." He hears Sarah mutter between cookies.

Kate breaks into a fit of giggles in response, pointing at John with a Dorito in hand as she tries to form words that just can't quite break through her laughter.

Nikolai would laugh if he wasn't too busy trying to kick off his boots without having to reach down and untie them.

The pizza boxes hit the table with a loud thud and before any of the three have a chance to react, John has already pinched the top one. "Dig in, arseholes."

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

All of our Lives

[ID: A banner showing two children walking hand in hand away from the reader through a forest of barren young trees. The title All of our Lives is written across in a pale yellow to bright blue gradient. All other images are decorative dividers with a row of blue flowers. End ID]

Every time darkness reached for her with the lingering promise that her pain could be over, she let his voice and touch cradle her. The pain was worth it, if only she could stay with him a moment longer, could let his embrace displace one more memory of endless hours alone under the earth.

📖 Synopsis

How far are they willing to go to finally be free?

As children, Ross and Irina were inseparable—rich and poor, nerd and dreamer, the disabled youngest son and the maid’s daughter ordered to assist him with his daily tasks. Now that they are grown up, his hopes of moving out and taking her away from his cold-hearted parents are shattered when she is arrested after killing his brother.

Half a year later, he is kidnapped for a ransom he knows won't be paid, and in the derelict building where the bandits leave him to die, he discovers a terrified, emaciated figure. Irina is alive; barely. Months of isolation and abuse have changed her, but Ross refuses to lose her again. If that means staying by her side while she embarks on a bloody path of revenge, so be it.

📖 About

Genre: Whump I mean uh, cozy dark fantasy

POV: Third person past tense, dual POV

Wordcount: 120k

Status: contemplating more beta readers

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and rape, captivity, starvation and isolation, self-harm, forced to watch, infection, field surgery, childhood abuse and ableism, sexual coercion, various gruesome murders (they're the bad guys)

Vibes: a cold, dark dungeon cell / chosen family / “please don’t kill her” / loneliness / a tin box filled with fruit cake / revenge / “i’m sorry” / hands desperately reaching for the other / a bowl full of oats / scars and trauma / “please stay” / unexpected kindness / bloody chains / “as long as we have each other”

Moodboard | Picrew

And some custom artwork, containing spoilers as well as violence <3

Home at last | So close yet so far | It's not her blood | Done with this shit

📖 Cast

Irina Vaughn

When she was five, her mother took the position as a rich family's maid, and Irina became the de-facto caretaker for their disabled son. At only one year apart, they quickly became best friends, too.

Ross DeWitt

Hoping to finally prove his worth to his family, Ross tried so hard to graduate with honors—only for his life to fall apart at the last moment. What good is a degree if the person he wanted to spend his life with is dead?

Lichen

While they have a big heart, everyone who comes looking for their services as a herbalist needs to make it past their gruff exterior and eccentric behavior. They enjoy life as a hermit, liking plants more than people.

📖 Tags & More

So far, I have been dumping everything into the tag: #wip: aool

When it's done, it will be released in (free) ebook format. I hope to be finished with the draft at the end of the year and aim for a release in the first half of 2025.

Because I won't put it on Tumblr, I don't have a tag list, but you can tell me if you want to be notified upon release :)

[cheesycatz]

Worm in the Apple (the Wormton AU fic) is at 120k words! Obviously the worm guy loves apples, fruit, and sugary stuff in general, though it holds no nutritional value for him. It's fitting, since most of the "worms" found in apples are actually just some form of insect, just like how Wormton himself isn't an actual worm. Being as contradicting as possible is his whole thing, I suppose.

May blithering helminth codswallop posthaste be upon thee if thoust must ruminate over thine virulent and insiduous merchant Sir Spammington G. Spammington The Deceitful:

Anyways, I've been struggling to write the depressing crap, so I often like to imagine the ending where they can all be happy together in Castle Town. I interpret Castle Town as a place where darkners are less bound to fate, since it doesn't seem to manifest from the real world, and is made of pure darkness, whatever that means. Wormton wouldn't have to hide anymore, but he would very much be, uh, neutralized if he tries to infect anything. He wouldn't get to have sixteen identical feral worm children that look like slightly smaller mirror images of him crawling all around the place, unfortunately; Castle Town could do without a highly invasive species that eats and destroys everything. I imagine that he'd keep the suit jacket so that he actually has some pockets, as well as to hide himself a little bit. Malworms naturally like to stay outside of the spotlight, so he's not very comfortable without his disguise. Not that being crammed inside his disguise was much more comfortable, but, hey, what other option did he have?

I like to imagine the addisons getting stuck with Wormton in Castle Town due to it having greater population density. I'm considering making it so that they don't even know he's there at first, like those criminal cases where some guy is living in a family's attic for months unnoticed. He'll have the opportunity to harass Swatch, interact with other characters like Lancer, and send "mild" death threats to Rouxls. I think he'd avoid Kris and the other lightners. He tries to kill Kris and absorb the SOUL from the get-go, and the two of them lack that puppet connection, since Wormton never picked up the phone. Still, he does pick up on their stilted movements that mimic his own when he's puppeteering his disguise, and does realize that the SOUL is a little more controlling than he would want, so they eventually reach a peaceful conclusion (This AU follows the pacifist normal route. This cold-blooded mf would probably just go into hibernation and do absolutely nothing if the player did a Weird Route). He's still pissed about them taking his shadow crystal, even if the starry night sky it once let him witness will never shine through its surface again. Kris is such a gremlin from what we know that I think it would he sweet if he valued the fact that, while they find his puppet-like disguise creepy, they're unfazed by his real appearance. Kris can go on his "people I don't fantasize about murdering and eating regularly" list, which might just be his "nestmates :^]" list if he'd actually admit it

Back to writing about him hating himself so much that he can't fathom someone healing him unless it was a transactional favor, hiding in a locked closet with no stimulation because he thinks he's trying to kill Blue whenever he's in an instict-driven half-asleep state (emphasis on thinks), believing the only reason that Blue is worried about him hiding so much is because they want him to leave faster, understanding so little of his actual species that he becomes stressed when he does anything that "isn't normal," Having fits of anger and mental breakdowns and feeling bad about it afterwards, using the worst coping mechanisms known to man, and devouring an entire 16 inch regular crust meat lover's pizza in one sitting

Cover art concept as a lil treat. Probably won't actually draw it until I'm ready to start releasing chapters, but it's fun to think about for now. I'll do my best to live up to expectations as someone with zero experience writing fiction and long-form content in general o7

[kiki-shortsnout]

Something I'm working for @the-elle-kat! A Sugardaddy A/B/O in which Tony (omega) ran away from home at 19 when he was pregnant, and since then has been leaping from crappy part-time jobs to make ends meet.

Stephen (Alpha) a famous, and rich, neurosurgeon has been looking for a caregiver for his mother, who is paralysed from the waist down after a horse riding accident.

When Tony turns up to interview for Beverly Strange's caregiver, Stephen immediately wants to turn him away, especially when Tony brings his young daughter with him.

I'm hoping to have this 70k turned 120K word story up in the next month or two!

---

Stephen grumbled to himself as he dug his fingers into the tight knots on either side of his neck, considering booking himself in for a massage, he stopped at the threshold of his living room, eyes narrowing when he saw who was sitting at the dining room table.

The child.

She was writing something into a book, humming gently under her breath with her small feet swinging. He could go into his bedroom to work, back to the hospital, any other room that didn’t involve a small child invading his personal space, but this was his home and he wasn’t going to let himself be chased out by a child.

Circling the table whilst keeping an eye on her movements, he saw the moment she noticed him. Her feet stopped swinging as a tiny hand reached out to clutch a soft toy perched beside her book.

Carefully, as if she were a rabid animal or something, Stephen placed his patient files down at the very corner of the table, waiting for her to strike, to say anything, before he silently pulled his chair out, still watching her.

Don’t make any sudden movements.

Taking his seat, he spread his papers out, careful not to invade her little corner of the table. Peeping up at him through the bangs of her hair, she bit her bottom lip in curiosity as she watched him.

He should’ve offered her a smile, been kind to her like he was with his child patients, but he couldn’t make himself do it, staring at her until she backed down, returning to her workbook. Appreciating the silence, Stephen began writing notes in the margin of the files, losing himself in test results, CT scans, treatment plans, focused on nothing other than how he could help the people under his care.

After a long while, Stephen placed his pen down, shaking out his hands and looking around for his clock, pausing his movements when he saw the girl still working, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth as she concentrated.

He’d completely forgotten about her.

Begrudgingly, Stephen could admit she was cute, and she hadn’t caused him any issues since they’d moved into his penthouse.

With a start, Stephen realized he couldn’t remember her name, that he knew nothing of this small girl who had been living with him for over two months now. Her toys didn’t spill out into the rest of the penthouse, nothing had been broken by her hand, she was a ghost in his home.

Getting to his feet, he caught the slight flinch from her, and he froze, horror trickling into the pit of his stomach in frigid droplets.

She was scared of him.

Quickly coming to a decision, he left the room for the kitchen, leaving the adjoining door open so she could see him. Placing a mug beneath the coffee machine and searching his cupboards, smiling to himself when he found what he was looking for. While he waited for his coffee, he shot fugitive glances over his shoulder, wondering if fear would make her flee.

Watching the coffee percolate, he was transported back to his own childhood, the way he used to tiptoe around his father, hiding beneath his bed when he could hear him downstairs in one of his moods, swearing and slamming doors.

His original distaste of their whole situation, her unqualified parent working for him had nothing to do with her, and yet he’d been punishing her for it, refusing to interact with her despite his mother obviously being smitten with her.

It hadn’t been difficult to put together a mosaic of understanding from the pieces of information he knew about them, could remember how his chest had ached in sympathy at her limited amount of possessions, how excited she had been about having another book to add to her meagre collection. 

The pair of them were here to stay for the foreseeable future, did he really want her terrified of him?

Memory made him lift his hand to touch his cheek, a phantom tingling sensation of where his father used to slap him, where Stephen’s excitement and pride at receiving high grades had been slowly worn down into shame and eventually resentment.

Looking through the door, he watched he look around the living room with wide frightened eyes, looking over her shoulder to the door to the hallway, listening for something before she looked back down at her workbook, clearly torn. 

He was treading his father’s footsteps.

Bringing his drink back to the table, he stretched out and placed a mug in front of her, smiling as her huge eyes looked at him.

She has beautiful eyes, just like Stark’s.

He’d never wanted kids, didn’t know how to interact with them, struggled with children of patients, his own juvenile patients, but looking down at this small girl now, her eyes brimming with tears, all he could think of was himself being frightened of his father.

‘It’s warm milk, would you like something else instead?’ He made his voice as low and as soothing as he could make it, smiling at her when she shook her head. ‘Sure? I might have some cocoa powder around here.’

She perked up at that, the tears fading as a small smile touched the corner of her lips.

‘Please,’ she whispered, offering him back the mug.

‘No problem, do you like marshmallows?’

‘What’s marsh allows?’

‘Give me a minute, and I’ll show you.’

Rummaging through his cupboards, he found what he was looking for, a gag gift from Wong that he’d stashed at the very back, the packet dusty. Checking it for the best-before date, he opened it, popping a few in his mouth as he stirred the cocoa powder into the milk. When was the last time he’d had cocoa?

Stephen couldn’t remember, the only memory he could recall was sitting in front of the fire back home with Donna, sipping at their drinks as they watched cartoons one morning. Making a decision, he pulled down another mug from the cupboard to make a matching drink, sprinkling a generous number of marshmallows into both.

‘There you go, let me know what you think.’

‘They’re pink,’ the girl told him, scrunching her nose.

‘You don’t like pink?’ Stephen asked, leaning back in his chair as he blew over his drink.

‘Yucky,’ she told him, taking the mug in both hands and copying him, her breath creating small ripples.

Didn’t I ask for the spare bedroom to be decorated in pink? Stephen tried to remember. He’d ignored the expense as it came in at the end of the month, uncaring of how the child’s bedroom had been kitted out. Stephen didn’t understand why she hadn’t said anything, why Stark hadn’t said anything.

‘They’re squishy,’ she told him delight, giggling to herself and doing a happy wriggle in her chair.

‘I’m glad you like them. I’ll keep an eye out for white marshmallows next time. What are you working on?’

‘Letters,’ she told him with an enormous sigh, placing her drink down and offering him her workbook.

Morgan.

Her name was Morgan.

‘Those look really good. I can see you’ve been working hard at them,’ he told her, genuine with his praise, his smiling stretching wider at the very faint blush he got.

Hunching over her drink, she sipped at it, eyes going wide at the taste before she tried to drink more, sticking her tongue out as she inevitably burnt it.

He chuckled, before holding his hands up as she glared at him, trying to show he wasn’t trying to be cruel.

‘You look like a little gremlin like that,’ he said, laughing out loud at her frown.

‘Gemmin,’ she chuckled to herself, nodding to herself.

‘Did you just call my daughter a gremlin?’

He hadn’t heard the omega in the doorway, couldn’t scent him, and he felt himself tense at the accusation. Ready to defend himself he glanced up, lips parting as he took in the man watching them both. He was smiling, gaze soft as he watched his daughter, but it was the t-shirt he was drowning in that caught Stephen’s attention, the sharp jut of collarbones, the damp curling hair around his ears.

‘Daddy!’ Morgan squeaked, holding her mug out and using her hand to point. ‘Arsh allows.’

[burntlikethesun]

Fic: First Day

Donna Noble embarks on her first day at UNIT, 10 weeks after we left her at the end of The Giggle.

Donna had opted to use the tube for her first day. Did UNIT Tower have an underground carpark? She made a mental note to ask someone. If she was going to be saving the planet every week, she felt she deserved a commute that didn’t involve standing with her face in someone’s armpit.

Maybe she could have her own personal driver- no, that would be pushing it. She could still barely believe she’d talked her way into a £120k a year job when this time last year she was doing admin on a fixed term contract for a recruitment company which made them all fork out for their own Christmas party. Now she was a permanent employee of an international organisation defending the Earth!

She had taken a while to agree on a start date - first of all her house had been demolished in an alien skirmish, so she felt like she needed to be settled in her new home before embracing her new role as Consultant Advisor under Kate Stewart. She did feel slightly nervous about the responsibility awaiting her, but she had done so much already that surely the only difference was now she was being financially compensated for her efforts. She had been sent a welcome pack in the post, containing her contract for signing and the company handbook that had some old country house emblazoned on the cover. Very National Trust, apart from the almost comical wooden sign reading ‘Ministry of Defence. U.N.I.T. Headquarters. KEEP OUT.’. Clearly they needed to update their marketing materials, now they sit at the top of a swish skyscraper in central London, complete with a helipad, and according to Shirley, the best coffee machine this side of the Milky Way.

The house had been quiet as she left that morning. Shaun was dead to the world after a late night taxi shift, and Sylvia had taken Wilf to visit Minnie. The Doctor, having made himself a resident of her back garden, had recently begun reaching out to old friends, now that he had an address to visit. She was charmed to meet Ace, bemused by the robot dog trundling alongside her, and Tegan made her hoot with laughter when she gave the Doctor a dressing down for saying she used to complain a lot. Jo Jones had embraced her so enthusiastically that she knocked her mother’s favourite vase off a table (thank God, it looked hideous), and she’d been overjoyed to host a raucous wine night when Martha finally found out about her getting her memories back and rushed round with a bag of clinking bottles to make up for lost time.

This morning there was a square patch on the grass which the TARDIS had vacated the previous day, as the Doctor had decided to pay a visit to an elderly couple named Ben and Polly in India, and a time space machine is less hassle than Heathrow. Rose had begged to go too but Donna had reminded her that she had mocks soon, and last time she’d gone on a daytrip with the Doctor she’d missed a week of school as they’d ended up in Ancient Athens, returning with their tails between their legs. As consolation, she let Rose stay overnight with another girl from school to revise for their exams. She was doing her A Levels but was disengaged outside of Art and Design. Maybe UNIT had a work experience program? Not out in the field of course, she didn’t want to encourage that; maybe they needed a new logo designing, or a rethink on their uniforms. She could see Rose sketching out a new look for the troops, the current all black look didn’t compare to the chic red berets she remembered from the ATMOS factory. Although knowing Rose’s taste they’d end up all furry with googly eyes on their helmets and pipe cleaners and pom poms on their chests. Maybe not, then.

Walking through the automatic shining glass doors stamped with the organisation’s insignia, Donna’s stomach threatened to do backflips. She refused to let misplaced imposter syndrome spoil this for her. She’d saved the universe, every universe, for crying out loud. If she could survive being locked in with rabid Ood, sneak through a Sontaran battleship undetected, deduct that a generations-long war had only lasted a week, and outthink the Not-things, she was ready for whatever life working for UNIT could throw at her.

“Hello, darling!”, a voice sang out, and Donna looked across the reception area and saw a familiar mane of red hair. “I came down to meet you!” beamed Mel. 

��You’ve not come to let me down gently then?” Donna laughed, still slightly nervous, but the butterflies inside her calming in the presence of her friend.

“Don’t be ridiculous, come on, let's get you set up upstairs.”, Mel said, whisking her briskly to the lifts, waving to the receptionist to let them through the security barriers. “There’s so much to do! We need to get your photo ID pass sorted, your hair looks gorgeous by the way, and - oh you’ve arrived just in time, our Shadow Proclamation liaison is off sick and we’ve had communication last night from the Judoon that they need jurisdiction to arrest a minor royal for trafficking Graskes - complete crisis. Kate’s on it but needs support arranging rendition.”

“Judoon? Space Rhinos, yoyo velcro tesco fomo; we’re already acquainted.” Donna replied as the doors slid open with a soft ‘ding’. “Let me at ‘em”.

[rabidkermit]

pinned post pertaining to donations (PLEASE READ)

hi everyone

this is gonna serve as an informational thing with asks and messages for donations as i receive quite a lot of them (which is a good thing, and i ask you to please keep sending them)

i am not able to verify donations. in the past, i have tagged posts as "vetted" or some form of it, which meant i had gone through the blog and ensured in some way that the campaign was verified. for any campaigns i've reblogged recently or will reblog in the future, assume i have checked they are verified if the post itself does not already say so.

i am only able to donate small increments to a few campaigns at any given time. i wish this were not the case, but it is. i typically pick a few campaigns at a time to donate to whenever i get paid, but there is no guarantee i will be able to donate to yours if you send an ask. that being said, i will always reblog any campaigns that end up in my inbox.

please do not send multiple asks in a row for reblogs. i have dozens of asks in my inbox, and though not always instantaneous, i will reblog them when i am able. multiple asks in a row tends to clog the ask box and make it difficult to see how many new asks i have. if i have reblogged your campaign in the past and you would like me to do so again, however, please feel free to send another ask.

as of november 1st, 2024, i have closed my direct messages. the reason for this is that i receive numerous asks and messages a day from people in need, and while i will always share your campaign, there is only so much i can do in terms of actually donating, and the influx of both messages and asks is becoming unmanageable for me. please note that my ask box will always, always be open to anyone who needs their campaign shared.

i do not reply to asks directly. i simply receive too many to be able to do so, but this does not mean i am ignoring you. i see you, all of you.

below is a list of campaigns who have reached out to me (not all but some) that i ask you to please share and donate to if you are able. thank you.

aseel's campaign: 75.458k out of 100k

habib's campaign: 3.795k out of 50k

yahya's campaign: 4.769k out of 50k

fidaa's campaign: 76.890k out of 120k

[pluttskutt]

A little unsteady

Stranger Things || Steddie || M || 54k (est. 120k) Alternate Universe - High School // POV Alternating // Closeted Steve Harrington // Queer Eddie Munson // Autistic Robin Buckley

Other tags: Underage Drinking • Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism • Past Child Abuse • Mental Health Issues • Bullying • Homophobia • Attempted Rape/Non-Con • Internalized Homophobia

Chapter notes: Sad Steve :(

“Huh? Ah…” He glanced at Alex, who was kind enough to shake his head slowly. “No, of course not, that’s—“ he scoffed, waving his hand in the air.

“Insane, right?” Jason tossed an arm around his shoulder, which meant he had passed their question.

“Bonkers,” he said, turning his attention back to the board. That’s when his eyes caught the red flannel close enough to touch if he reached his hand out. Thankfully in control of unwelcome thoughts like that, he looked at the board before his eyes thought they could look at him while Jason stood there with an arm around his neck.

»read on ao3«

»chapter one«

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart   Chapter 15

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: A Dream Of Fire

Notes: Very exhausted. Hope i’m posting this right.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +120K

Chapter:  15 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The ride was long, half a day had passed by the time the three of you had reached the forest Gawain had told you some things about.

Legend told that this forest was born of Fey magic, the sort of magic that was ancient.

Those with ill intend would not find it safe to wander these woods, the forest could sense it the moment one stepped foot inside.

It was quiet frightening and intriguing all at once.

“Wait.” You made Gawain halt “Is it safe for Manbloods?”

Lancelot deadpanned “We are about to find out.”

Gawain scolded him but held back a chuckle all the same “Lancelot, don’t scare the girl.”

Oh, the will to tease him right back was strong.

With the perfect pout, you leaned back more into Gawain’s form to seek ‘protection’ “Will the trees not wish to hurt me?”

The cheeky smirk vanished from the Ash Man’s face.

He knew you were just doing it to get back at him for messing with you.

Still…

He had never thought he would feel a sting of possessiveness. To see you close to another…No. it definitely stung.

The Green Knight fell for it a bit, he did not know you so well yet “Of course not. Don’t listen to the dolt over there.”

This time the Ash Man did let out a scoff he’d been holding back “Do not be fooled, Green Knight, she is not as innocent and helpless as she pretends to be.”

Your sly smirk was met with a certain look from Lancelot that made your blood run a little faster.

It was as if Goliath sensed his impatience as the horse began to step forward and backwards.

Gawain gestured with his hand to him “After you.”

Finally Goliath was allowed to trot ahead.

At first everything seemed normal. A bird landed on a bush full of berries nearby.

That bird… it was the most colorful one you had ever seen in your life. Then the flowers came into sight and their beauty was just unbelievable.

The deeper you went into the forest, the more beautiful it became, you even saw deer and fawns with flowers growing from their antlers.

When passing under a tree bearing fruit, you plucked a piece off to study the strange fruit.

It was a dark orange color with some red and it smelled very sweet “What is this?”

Lancelot could smell it from behind him “A pear.”

You mumbled “It doesn’t look like a pear.”

Gawain suggested “Taste it.”

The strange appearance of the fruit had you call out to Lancelot for a second opinion “Is it edible?”

At that question, he turned Goliath around and circled you, taking the ‘pear’ from your hands.

He took a bite of it to prove that it was edible before handing it back to you.

A frown formed on your face “You could have just said ‘yes’.”

Someone sounded grumpy…

He steered Goliath to walk next to the mare “Ah, yes. I almost forgot how foul your mood can become when you are hungry.”

Alright…that might have been true.

You send him a side-eyed look while tasting the pear, it did taste really good.

Gawain wished to inform the former Monk of his ill manners “I would be in a foul mood too if my meal had been in someone else’s mouth.”

You could just see it in Lancelot’s eyes that he was holding back a witty remark in response to that.

He wouldn’t dare, would he?

The Ash Man pretended to take the lesson to heart, albeit with a slight grin “I see your point. I apologize, y/n.”

While remembering how you had once not minded having his mouth were it should not have been…

You couldn’t look at his face, that tone had not been apologetic, it held a charm that could not be misunderstood.

Gawain jested “We’ll get him to be more well-mannered. Don’t worry.”

Your cheeky reply came while letting your gaze roll over the man who continued to make your heart beat faster “That’s not necessary. I like him the way he is.”

The knight wasn’t really surprised to hear it, the two of you kept circling around each other with words and wits and the Ash Man couldn’t keep his eyes off of you “Oh?”

Lancelot had straightened his back at the compliment “I share the sentiment, Lady y/n.”

You stole one more shy glance, then looked around the forest a bit more.

For a while, the three of you enjoyed the silence and beauty of the forest. There were some birds signing in a way that you had never heard before, soft like little bells.

The next thing you got hold of was a flower that grew on the bark of a tree.

It was rather small and a bright blue color that reminded you of another striking blue nearby.

The Ash Man caught it almost too late “Gawain!”

The flower was snatched from your fingers and tossed away by Gawain “What was that for?!?”

Gawain took hold of your hand and inspected your palm “It burns the skin if held against it too long.”

Lancelot got closer to view your hand as well “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head “It just tingles.”

He taught you about the flower “That is how it’s begins. In the right hands, medicine can be made of it. In the wrong hands…”

You concluded “Skin gets burned. Got it, I’ll keep my hands to myself until I know more of this forest.”

He warned Gawain of your tendency to get yourself into trouble “You should consider binding her hands with ropes if you wish for her to stick to her own advice.”

It rolled out of your mouth “I’ve been bound by ropes enough these past weeks. Thank you very much.”

Both men shared a look, neither daring to jest about it.

The rest of the ride included similar squabbling and teasing, but you did keep your hands to yourself.

  When arriving at the city’s gate, all of you dismounted. The gates were being opened and a small crowd stood there to watch while others ignored it and went on about their daily business.

Right away you could feel the stares and feared all of them knew of your connection to your uncle.

You were reluctant to walk among the people.

Lancelot noticed “What is it?”

It was a panicked whisper “I’m not Fey. And I’m the niece of the person who has done this to them.”

Gawain had went over to one of the Faun archers who stood ready and returned with a cloak.

It was handed to you and you put it on without questioning it.

Lancelot adjusted the hood of your cloak to cover you more “You are forgetting what is most important.”

What would that be?

His gaze rolled over your form quick as a brush of wind “You are with me. If anyone has objections, they can bring them to me.”

Gawain chimed in “And to me. All who aid or believe in the Fey are welcome here.”

As the three of you walked into the city, you noticed that even Lancelot still looked quite timid to be there. You walked between them, letting the hood of the cloak shield you from the inquisitive looks that were aimed at you.

A man and woman approached, Manblood by the looks of it.

Lancelot took it upon himself to introduce the pair to you “This is Arthur and Red Spear.”

Arthur blurted out the information that they had forgotten to share with him upon seeing you “She’s a nun?”

Great, now more people were staring.

Gawain let out a sigh “It was a coverage to protect herself from being forced into marriage by the priest.”

Arthur awkwardly uttered “Oh.”

Red Spear ignored the idiot and formally introduced herself, she had a voice that carried power and authority “I am the Red Spear, exile of the court of Cumber the Ice King, a court now under siege by traitors. And Captain of the strongest ship that sails the seas, You must be y/n.”

You nodded, a bit intimidated. For someone so dangerous looking, she was also quite beautiful.

It led to the peculiar exchange.

You spoke to her “I am. It’s nice to meet you.” the nerves had you blurting out “You’re really pretty.”

She did not expect that sort of reply, especially not from a stranger.

Fantastic, now even they were looking at you strangely.

Well, it was too late to take it back and it would be rude and a lie to say it wasn’t so.

Gawain turned to Lancelot “You were right. She is braver than she pretends to be.”

Red Spear shot a glare and silenced both, then turned to you and gave a very quickly spoken “Thank you.”

It was all she said before abruptly leaving the group.

Arthur commented on it “Last time I tried to compliment her, she took it as an insult.”

Gawain couldn’t hold his tongue “Not everyone falls for your charms, Manblood.”

Arthur disagreed “Maybe not at first, but everyone has a weak spot for flattery and I will find it.”

Lancelot hid the fact that he had rolled his eyes “Do not let Arthur fool you, y/n. He is better with the sword than with words.”

You gawked at Lancelot who had somehow both complimented and insulted Arthur.

The Manblood retorted “Says the man who’s been a monk all his life.”

The lecture fell from you “Being a monk doesn’t mean that you can’t charm someone, only that is it frowned upon.”

Those weeping eyes had darted from you to the ground.

The cheeky Manblood gestured to you “Same with nuns, is it not? And here you are, charming us with your presence. Don’t worry, I won’t frown.”

Both Fey men beside you let out a disgruntled sigh at the blatant attempt at flirtation from the Manblood.

You ignored the attempt, already guessing you were one of the many who received his compliments.

It made you blurt out “I really need to find other clothes to wear.”

Gawain turned to Lancelot “Go on and help her get settled in.”

He appreciated the excuse given to get you away from a flirting Arthur.

Lancelot touched the back of your arm “Come on, there are some people who have been asking about you.”

  You were led into a large building, it must have once resembled a castle more and repairs were being made to the outside. Once inside, it did not look bad at all.

He guessed your line of thought “We are working on fortifying it. It is our mission to return this city to it’s former glory, a place where the Fey can find safety and flourish.”

The Ash Man missed how you were looking at him with admiration and pride.

A large door was pushed open by him and leaded into a dinning hall where children were, upon hearing the doors open the group looked away from the Faun woman teaching them how to read. Their attention left you rather quickly again, except the attention of two children.

Percival saw the chance to avoid being tutored and ran up to you, stopping just before bumping into you “Y/n! You’re here! I knew he’d bring you to us too!”

You pulled the boy into an embrace and purposely ruffled through that wild hair of his.

Percival scrambled to get away, but it was all a facade.

Seeing the lively boy brought joy to your heart “Look at you, you’ve grown since we last spoke.”

And he was wearing the scarf you had given him.

The boy beamed with pride at the words.

Grown? Oh, how you knew exactly what to say to charm the young spirited knight.

Lancelot had another surprise up his sleeve “Percival, why don’t you introduce your new friend to her?”

Percival ran back towards the group and knelt down momentarily to speak to a girl, after that she followed him back to you.

You instantly recognized the curly haired girl as she stopped in front of you “Neia!”

And Neia recognized you too, her small arms locked around your waist “Y/n…”

It felt like she did not want to let go of you ever again “How are you, sweetling? Are they kind to you here?”

Neia did not let go while nodding and quietly answering “Percival is nice.”

The boy had been rather protective over the young girl ever since they had met and since the girl was very shy and barely spoke, Percival took it upon himself to be her voice.

You couldn’t help but share a smile with Lancelot who was clearly proud of the boy he was guiding through life.

You knelt before the girl, barely able to pry her hands from you to take them in yours “You play together?”

She nodded, eyes holding a careful happiness “Every day.”

Percival did not stray far from Neia’s side and pulled some tiny pebbles from his pockets to show “We play with these, we draw a circle on the ground and every time one lands in the circle, we make the circle smaller. If it lands outside the circle, you have to skip your next turn and give the stone to the other. The one who throws their stone in the last circle wins. But If you run out of stones, you lose.”

They sounded so enthusiastic about their time playing together, no wonder these two were friends even if she was younger.

Lancelot chimed in lightheartedly “He also uses those stones for other purposes.”

Percival was quick to put them back in his pocket while Neia giggled.

That got you curious “Such as what?”

The Sky Folk Knight squinted his eyes at the Ash Man who was seconds away from spilling all his wrongdoings to you.

It did not stop him from telling you what the boy had been up to “Certain people here often feel something hitting them and believe it is the spirits of those who lived here before us that haunt the city.”

Percival peeked up at you through his lashes.

You couldn’t resist “Well, they should be glad someone is throwing pebbles at the ghosts who would otherwise haunt them. I’m sure Percival did not mean to hit them too.”

Both children grinned at each other.

Lancelot send you a look, then gestured to the group that were still listening to their teacher and gently steered the boy by the vest towards them “Return to your lessons. Go on.”

Percival protested “But it’s boring.”

You hoped the woman teaching them had not heard “Don’t say that, Percival. It’s not nice. That woman is trying to teach you something really important.”

The boy huffed but gave in “Alright.”

It was Neia who dragged him back towards the group “Come on.”

You watched them scurry off together until you felt something on your back.

Lancelot had placed his hand there to get your attention “Walk with me, I will show you where you can change clothing and freshen up if you please.”

That was an offer you took with open arms “Gladly.”

  You were led into a room that was seperated into two parts by a large curtain hanging close to the middle.

He walked passed you to open the curtain and reveal a space created just for cleaning oneself. A closet held some items of clothing and linen to use.

It had been a while since you had been able to look after your appearance and you were searching the closet for things to wear.

He hoped he had not forgotten something important, his knowledge on what women often wore was limited “Anything you wish to have is yours. I have inquired with others what you could need, but if I have missed something be sure to let me know.”

You had already fished out a dress that felt very soft “I think I have everything I need. Thank you. This dress looks nice.”

His head tilted, eyes fixed on how you held the dress in front of yourself to see how it would look “There is a mirror behind you.”

Oh?

Upon turning around, there was indeed a long mirror in the corner.

He halted you for a moment and took off your cloak for you, then let you go to the mirror.

After a quick look, you decided on wearing the dress.

When you began to undo the tunic you wore, he was quick to head for the door but you called him back “You can stay if you want. I am wearing an undergown under this.”

It was ridiculous how looking away and fleeing was so hammered into him still.

You did not let yourself appear shy now “And I need to speak to you.”

Why was it that those words caused him distress?

The tunic was discarded and you were left in the white undergown. You took a clean piece of cloth, wetted it in the bowl of water and began to wash your face “It’s about your family.”

It had his full attention “What is it that you wish to tell me?”

You slowly started to tell him “Before you and Gawain saved me in the forest, I met an elder Moon Wing called ‘Yeva’. She sensed the mark on me and spoke of your people.”

He stepped closer, listening intensely “I have heard of the name. It is known that she possesses certain abilities.”

You dragged the cloth over your neck “She does. She knew things she could not have known otherwise. Does the name ‘Ban’ sound familiar at all?”

When no answer came, you turned to see him with closed eyes and facing away from you.

Immediately you stopped washing up and dried your skin quickly before walking over to him.

He barely kept his composure at the sound of the name. The whispers he was taught to ignore came to him and fed him memories long forgotten.

It was almost cruel of them, of these voices to make him remember what he’d lost.

The Hidden, that was what the Fey called them. Even the Green Knight knew not all about the way they could haunt him.

Lancelot gave a shallow nod, not finding his voice or fearing how terribly it would waver.

You brushed a hand over his back “I’m so sorry-”

It came out quickly “What did she tell you?”

While rubbing over his back and shoulder, you told him the truth about what was learned “That you are the son of Ban, the Ashen King.”

King?!?

The vague memory of a face that the name had caused did not leave him anymore.

Blue eyes, Ashen marks and a beard. A calm and wise presence.

His father. His kin. His past.

And there was more The Hidden had returned to him. The faces and names of a woman and a boy who bore the same marks that he did.

Sorrow was overtaking him “King?”

It must be a shock for him to hear this “You were born a prince. I am so sorry, Lancelot, she told me you were to only one who survived.”

Why only him? Why?

There was anger in his tone, aimed at the one who chose him and left his other kin to die “I had a brother, Hector, I can remember his face now.” the feeling of Father’s cruel actions only fueled his fury “And a mother, Elaine.”

The change in him was visible to you, the sorrow and fury blended together and caused the storm no person should ever have to experience.

Grief.

He stepped away, eyes avoiding yours, thoughts lost in the storm that roared inside of him.

When he wanted to pass by you, you stepped in his path and took hold of his shoulders “Breath, Lancelot. Please!”

He moved your hands from him, still not meeting your eyes “You cannot understand!”

It was not his intention to hurt you, you knew that, but you did remind him that you understood “I too have have lost my family-”

You didn’t get the chance to reason with him, he had grabbed and pulled you to him and you found yourself in the arms of a man who’s heart had been broken once again.

The embrace was so tight and strong that you believed he’d never let go again, his face was buried into your neck. You could feel his fingers lock into the fabric of your undergown.

And from the corner of your eyes, you could see the flame of one of the candles in the room get a green hue as it restlessly moved back and forth.

Yeva had spoken of the power that ran through his veins, of the legacy of the Fey Fire and the destruction it could cause if not kept under control.

What started with one candle, soon happened to all. But this was not the time for Fey Fire to be born, not like this, not when it was born from his pain.

By cupping his cheek and tilting your head back a bit, you made him look at you, the second you had his attention you brushed the tears away with your thumb.

He was visibly uncomfortable to have you see him like this.

But you continued to place your hand on the side of his neck and let your fingers massage the spot, whispering “Just breath.”

The discomfort and shame began to fade from his expression.

You slowly moved your fingers to his face again, letting the tips of them trace along those ashen markings down his jaw.

The small gesture was perhaps the most intimate and meaningful action he’d experienced thus far. It was quieting the storm inside of him when you continued to let your fingers touch his face like he was something worth of wonderment to you.

Your eyes locked on his “I wish I knew what to say that could bring you some comfort, just know that I do want to give you that. It’s so unspeakably hard to carry such grief, know that I am here when you need me. Day or night. Always.”

It had never truly hit him until now how similar your grief was, both left without parents, both turned to each other to find comfort and distraction from the loss.

Something in the embrace changed, he held you a little differently.

It had been intentional, that became clear when he brought his forehead to yours.

The mark on your arm was tingling, like it was a warning for what was yet to come.

He cupped your neck and let himself be carried away by a heart’s desire.

It was the second time a kiss was shared between you, this one carried no haste.

He sought union and closeness, one sensation to drown out all others, craved to feel you close.

All the nervousness he was so prone to feeling washed out of him like a tidal wave.

You’d never experienced the devotion before that he had to caress your lips with his in such a manner that it felt like you were tasting life itself on them, it was home and it was warm and safe.

He sealed it with a lingering peck to them, like his lips had just made a promise to yours.

You couldn’t fully believe that just happened, thankfully he was still holding on because that kiss had weakened your legs.

The flames of the candles had returned to their original colors.

It left you in a daze and led to the admission “Heaven, I have missed you.”

His hand followed the curve of your neck down to your shoulder “And I you.”

This was not just infatuation, it ran deeper than you ever thought was possible.

Lancelot glanced down, his brow shot up involuntarily, than his eyes fixed on your face again “I should let you continue to freshen up.”

You hummed and threw the question at him “Am I too smelly at the moment for you?”

The truth came out with a smile while he let go “Believe me when I say that your sweat does not work repellent to me.”

Now it was you who arched a brow, but he wouldn’t comment further on it.

He stepped back and folded his hands behind him and while he was making those two steps backwards, you could have sworn his gaze drifted over your form.

It happened so subtly that you wondered how many times he had done it before and you’d missed it.

You couldn’t fight the smile you had now “Now that you have names, perhaps others can tell you more about them. Maybe Gawain?”

It sounded like a plan “I shall ask.”

With a cheeky grin, you teased “Remember how I once said that I deserved a prince or king if I could not have a handsome monk?”

He let out a warm chuckle and coyly replied “I do. I fear you will have to settle for a monk.” after a short pause he corrected himself “-or former monk.”

You picked the wet cloth up again and continued to clean up your neckline “I am not ‘settling’. I don’t care as long as it is you.”

He evaded your gaze for a second, than met it again “The Fey will never accept me as a prince or king after everything I have done. I have no right to claim the title, I am not worthy of it.”

The cloth moved over your arm now and you could see his attention be drawn to it every so often “The fact that you are here among them now, and still alive, means they are willing to give you a chance. No one knows what the future could bring. Tell me, how has it been for you here?”

There was a quiet sigh and he tried to put the experience into words “Difficult. I am trying to find my place among them.” he strolled around the room a little “The longer I am among them, the more I struggle to fight against the magic that resides in me. I used to have it under control, I avoided using it, that mark I gave you was one of the few times I did.”

You dried yourself with a clean linen towel “Yeva spoke of the power your father possessed, said you could have inherited it. She said you should not fear it. The Ash Folk were the ones who could create Fey Fire, Ban was capable of creating Fey Fire that burned for weeks.”

Was this part of his legacy as an Ash Man?

It worried him to hear it “How can I not fear it? If this power goes beyond my control, I could burn this city without ever intending to.”

The towel was placed next to the bowl by you “Gawain spoke of this girl, Nimue, the Wolf Blood Witch. It means he has some knowledge of Fey magic, tell him, he could help.”

Lancelot gave a nod “I will speak to him.” he pointed at a bruise on your elbow “May I ask what happened during your captivity under the Abbot’s order?”

You were quite bitter about the whole ordeal “I was bait to lure you. The bastard left me to starve for days. They kept me in a tent, the camp was riddled with paladins and Trinity guards. I had tried to escape before, I guess that is why they decided to teach me a lesson when Gawain and you came to my aid.”

He was quiet for a moment, the question sounded rather cautious “Did they hurt you in other ways?”

It confused you “Other ways? Like insults? No, not really. They didn’t say much.”

A woman held captive inside a tent for two weeks in a camp filled with ruthless men, anything could have happened.

Lancelot weighed his words, hoping to be more transparent with what he had meant “Did they… keep to the vow?”

Oh…

So that was what he meant with being hurt in ‘other ways’…

Thankfully, that had not been the case “Nothing of the sorts happened.”

It was a great relief to hear that you had been spared from such monstrosities.

You looked back at the bowl with water “I am grateful for the opportunities I am getting here. I just wish I could bathe completely, I miss that.”

It was an understandable wish to have.

He thought for a moment “It would be simpler to bathe in the river while it is still fine weather. No running around with buckets to fill a bath.”

One thing concerned you “Is there a spot at this river that is a little hidden from sight?”

He eased your mind “There is. I can show you tomorrow if you wish?”

It had you enthusiastic “Yes, please. I’d prefer not going alone.”

With an inclination of his head, he vowed to accompany you “It will be a short walk. Remember to take some clothing along and a towel.”

The plan was made and you looked forward to tomorrow “I will, thank you. You can be really sweet sometimes.”

There was a mutter “Sometimes…”

You picked up the dress you had chosen “And you would be even sweeter if you stayed for a moment longer and helped close this dress for me after I put it on.”

The dress was nice, unfortunately it was one of those that required to be closed by laces in the back and your wrists were sore from having been bound by rope a lot.

His answer came a bit slower, but no less eager “I will gladly offer assistance.”

Oh, heaven. Why did he have to sound so alluring and charming?

The atmosphere took a turn when you started to put on the dress.

Little by little, you had seen the confidence in him grow. He didn’t look away as quickly anymore and you were starting to catch him stealing glances often.

It was quite flattering to catch his attention without trying.

When you were ready, you called him over with a motion of your hand.

He went to stand behind you and took a moment to figure out how to actually help close this “Why would they make this so complicated?”

You giggled at that “Because it looks nice?”

He had to agree “It does indeed.”

It surely wasn’t to rush him “Especially when closed.”

He tsked “Patience.”

Feeling him fumble with the dress caused only more giggling from you.

Then you felt him touch your back intently and it tickled so much that you tried to get away.

The cheeky twit held on to the laces and prevented you from fleeing “I am not done with you yet.”

It had you biting your lip to prevent a sound from coming out of your mouth.

At least he was making progress and soon he reached the last inches.

He made an effort to end it with a bow instead of just a knot, sounding a little proud of his work “This dress compliments you.”.

No one else would ever know that he was looking down along your back.

As you smiled back at him over your shoulder at the compliment, that striking blue met your gaze instantly “No one has ever kissed me the way you have done today.” the jest fell “Did you practice while I was gone or something?”

There was a slight shake of his head, smirk growing “Did I do so well that it makes you suspicious?”

You hummed and looked ahead again, feigning pensiveness.

His hot breath touched the shell of your ear, voice a husk “I had a good teacher, remember?”

It was hard not to be prideful “Ah, yes. That’s right.”

He took hold of your shoulders, giving them a squeeze “All done.”

You went over to the mirror again and turned to see his work “Someone has experience with lacing.”

He made the comparison “It is just a different sort of ropes.”

It earned a laugh and you made a little twirl to show off “You did well. Thank you.”

He gestured to the door “Am I free to leave?”

With a scoff you told him “You always were, you twit.”

The little bow he made was comical.

Before leaving, he informed “The room is yours.”

It slipped out of your thoughts “And where is yours?”

There was a tug at the corner of his mouth when he saw you make yourself get flustered by blurting out the inquiry “End of this hall, last door on the right.”

The smile you send him must have given away your thoughts “Alright.”

He opened the door and took one step outside “You are free to explore the city, although I would prefer you did not do so alone. The people were…uneasy with my arrival. Some might be uneasy with yours as well.”

It would take time to earn their trust “I understand. I think I will just rest today, if that is alright? I haven’t slept much in quite some time.”

It did not need asking “Of course. Then I must warn you, Percival’s room is next to yours and he is not the quiet type. I will tell him not the disturb you today so you can recover.”

You gave a grateful nod “And what while you occupy yourself with?”

He leaned against the door frame “Helping the Red Spear and Gawain. It is quite time consuming to prevent them from acting to rash at times.”

The tease fell “Are you sure you’re the right person to help them with that?”

He cocked his head, sending you a look while turning to leave “I will see you later.”

You said one more thing “Be safe, alright?”

With a slow nod he left the room, closing the door behind him.

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  It was never easy to fall asleep the first night in a new place and yet that was what happened. It was nice to sleep in a clean nightgown and having been able to freshen up after everything you’d been through.

But what started off easy, ended in a nightmare again.

You woke up in a sweat, still fearing that the flames that had haunted your dream would follow you into reality.

This place had been engulfed by flames and trapped all those inside. But you had been outside, watching it burn, powerless to save those inside.

Your legs swung off the bed and your feet carried you out of the room.

The first destination was the room beside you, you quietly creaked the door open and found Percival vast asleep.

Good, the boy was safe and sound.

Upon closing that door again, the mark on your arm gave off a dull feeling, glowing ever so slightly.

The sound of another door opening drew your attention away.

The answer to the mark’s response had taken one step into the hallway…

It appeared Lancelot had awoken too, he noticed you and gestured for you to come to him.

Once close enough, you whispered “Trouble sleeping too?”

Day or night, that was what you had promised…

He took your arm and drew you into the room he had just exited, closing the door once both inside “My dream was what woke me. You?”

You let yourself be leaded further into the room and he offered a seat on the bed “I dreamed of a fire again.”

He waited until you were seated before sitting beside you “I did as well.”

The screams still rang in his ear, the cries of his mother as the village burned…

There was no explanation needed, the look in his eyes told all “Your family?”

The answer came after he’d taken a deep breath “Yes.” he felt you lock an arm with his and rest your head on his shoulder “And you?”

You leaned into him more “This place was burning, I couldn’t save anyone.”

He leaned against you as well, shifting ever so slightly to fully appreciate the close proximity.

The words were spoken against the fabric of his undershirt “I can’t forget the smell of the burning ashes. If I can’t, then I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.”

His eyes squeezed shut, proving that he too struggled with it.

But he had not seen his family burn, only his home and vague snippets were forced on him by The Hidden.

You must have seen your home in ashes and smelled the burning remains of those you’d loved and lost…

He questioned why a certain pattern kept returning in your dreams “In your nightmares, do you always dream you cannot save others from the flames?”

The admission was a whisper “Always.”

With caution, he proceeded “Do you blame yourself for not having been there when it happened?”

It kept going through your mind day by day, that fate could have been so different if you had been there “I could have saved them.”

His arm moved around your back and held you close “You do not know that.”

There was a shrug of your shoulders. There could have been something you could have done��

He tried to reason “Fire is ruthless, y/n. If they could not flee, I fear you could not have done so either.”

At this point, you let yourself almost use him as a pillow “I don’t know…”

At least it had brought some doubt to your misplaced guilt.

Your eyes fluttered shut when feeling him press a tender kiss to your forehead. The silence of the night draped over both for a while.

He rubbed along your arm and waited until you looked up at him “I have spoken to Gawain, he had heard of my family. That is why he knew what I was so quickly. He knows what I inherited.”

It could be about his title or abilities “The Fey magic?”

He gave a nod “I told him I could feel it grow inside of me. Even today, when we spoke about what the Moon Wing Elder had told you, I felt it rise.”

You admitted to what you had seen “When we embraced, I saw the flames of the candles in my room turn green. One by one.”

The expression he had was one of disbelief and shock “You saw this?”

With a nod you confirmed it.

He let go off you and put his head in his hands “I could have hurt you-”

That was something you weren’t willing to believe “No.”

Those weeping eyes glanced back at you “From what I have learned, Fey Fire is much more powerful than a normal flame. It is born from magic and it brings magic. If I am not in control of myself, I am not in control of the fire inside either.”

His eyes were fixed on the candle that burned on the table beside the bed, seeing with his own eyes how his fear caused the flame to change it’s color.

How could he ever control something he did not even fully understand? And there was none other alive that could teach him.

You noticed what he was looking at, that green hue was overtaking the flame, it was as if the two colors fought each other.

Much like he was fighting himself over this.

But they could coexist, as they had once done so long ago.

By getting off of the bed and sinking down on your knees in front of him, you stole his attention away from what troubled him.

You took his hand in yours, holding on to it in a protective manner “I believe you are far more capable than you believe yourself to be. You do not lack control, you lack faith in yourself.”

His eyes were cast to the floor until they fixed on your hands.

You freed one hand and used it to rub over his lower arm soothingly “And if you cannot find that faith within, remember that you have mine. Always.”

Now his gaze darted between you and the flame, seeing how the green fire overtook it.

He could feel the power coursing through his veins and your gentle touch was it’s equal to match.

Your head turned to look at the Fey Fire, never having seen it this bright green before, innocently unaware of how Lancelot could not pull his eyes away from what was in front of him “If this fire is born from you, I see no reason to fear it.”

The legend of it’s origin was slowly making sense to him, what had once been stories now proved possible “It is said that it came into being when Festa and Moreii decided to remain together in their last moments. That the flames that burned them, fed their power as they perished. Fire born from the love of two who could not be together in this life.”

It was both tragic and romantic “Would that not mean that the Ash Folk is closely related to at least one of them?”

He hummed, lost in thought “Perhaps one of them was of the Ash Folk and they left us a power meant to protect ourselves so no fire could harm our kind again. A sacrifice of life for a future for others.”

Your eyes squinted and turned to look at him “But fire still kills Fey.”

Lancelot’s throat bopped and you knew there was something he wasn’t saying.

His head bowed in shame “Not all Fey.”

You couldn’t really believe what he was trying to say “What do you mean?”

He took hold of your hand, knowing the reaction it could cause in you “Ash Folk cannot burn.”

The news sank in and you looked away to process it, already guessing why he had never spoken of it before “I did not know that…”

He admitted that it had been to spare you “It would be insensitive to tell you such a thing after having lost your family to fire not long ago.”

It was strange to wish your family had been Ash Folk too and you pushed away that thought before it could put it’s claws in.

But he knew it must have passed your mind “I am sorry.”

Your shoulders shrugged “There is no reason for it. I am glad you told me, maybe now I won’t have nightmares of you dying in flames.”

He brought his hands up to cradle your face, letting his calm gaze speak to you.

The way he was looking at you was so caring and gentle that it made it hard to bring a word out.

The invitation left him like a wish “If you wish, you may rest here tonight.”

Well, that was unexpected to hear from a man who was raised as a monk.

Nerves hit you “I doubt that would not arise questions if others found out. Our past makes this a delicate matter. I am the niece of a priest and you…”

He knew what you tried to say “You fear they are not ready to know about us together.”

You explained your worries “Their faith in us is not there yet, I don’t want to compromise you being accepted by them. And admitting that you are with me might cause that. Father Carden was my kin, I am Manblood and came here dressed as a nun. I think we shouldn’t test their beginning trust further.”

You plucked his hands from your face and rose from the ground.

They found their place on your waist instead and he was quick to rise to his feet too.

There you stood, feeling him draw you in close

It felt and looked like he wished to do something but changed his mind at the last second.

Your heart went and left you there as it ran off alone “Goodnight, Lancelot.”

He cupped your neck but willed himself into letting go, the hand traveled down your shoulder to where the mark hid beneath your nightgown.

Even now he could feel it’s response.

He traced his thumb over it and then let go “Goodnight, my lady.”

Your brow arched and a soft giggle spilled out “My lady?”

The smirk he had was more confident than he perhaps felt in that moment “Well, you are mine, are you not?”

So the ambiguity had been on purpose.

You hummed, feigning doubt.

He did not give you the chance to mess with him on this matter “Do not bother to deny it. The sign is there.”

His eyes had drifted to your arm on purpose.

You found your voice from where it had hid itself “Goodnight.”

Dammit, that cocky self-satisfied smirk he had now gave you mixed feelings. He looked so damn attractive while doing it, but also so smug that you couldn’t resist the desire to pretend that it wasn’t.

You walked over to the candle that carried the green flame and saw him tense up when holding your hand a little above it.

It was hot like regular fire, but something was different.

The mark spread from your arm down to your palm and upon turning your hand around, you saw it grow to your fingers.

This time the pattern glowed green, like the flame itself burned within it.

Lancelot was completely quiet while it happened and you hoped this proved that you did not fear the power he held within.

It never hurt, it was quite mesmerizing to see even.

He walked over and extinguished the flame with his bare hand, the green left your mark and the pattern retreated back to just your arm.

It was the first time he saw that green glow on someone other than himself…

Your smile could not have been bigger, to have actually felt this ancient magic run over your skin like this was incredible.

Even now that it was darker, he could still see the wonder in your eyes.

It was a bold idea when you stepped closer, grabbed the front of his shirt and pressed a vigorous kiss to his cheek, the smile never left you.

After that you backed away and hurried out the door before you wouldn’t be able to resist staying there.

The last thing you saw when closing the door behind you was his surprised but amused expression.

     Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan  @rainyv-skies​​​

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[hpdmfics]

cant believe that i have had the good fortune to find not one but TWO very excellent plotty and well-written time travel drarry fics

Across the Multiverse by hsvh (110k) Thirteen years after the war, Draco Malfoy is quite happily tucked away in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. When an Auror disappears through a broken Vanishing Cabinet, it presents the perfect opportunity for Draco's research to finally graduate beyond theory. Unfortunately, Harry Potter will also be along for the ride. This has time AND space travel. A certified banger. You know when the worldbuilding makes you yearn?

Always Already by aibidil (170k) Harry and Draco, not quite friends, get sent on a mission from the Unspeakables — go to the 1980s to help in the first war against Voldemort. I'm half way through this one rn and it's been a RIDE. Honestly I'm always a bit wary starting fics longer than like 120k because it takes good writing to keep up the momentum, but I'm very glad I took a chance on this one due to good memories of aibidil's fake relationship election campaign fic.

tbh let's make that three because i can't forget my original love: If Them's The Rules by MayMarlow.

Unable to accept the aftermath of the war, Harry decides to travel back in time to become the parent Tom Riddle obviously should have had. Except that things don't go as planned and Harry finds himself part of a game with hidden rules, trying to survive while raising a boy whose understanding of family has nothing to do with love.

The tags say HP/Tom Riddle but if that author actually intended to make that relationship romantic, we haven't reached that point at all yet, 42/83 chapters and 200k words in. It's been a while since my last reread but I think Harry becomes involved with a male OC around the last few chapters, while the other parts did not have any romance at all. I've been following this fic for 8 years now and I still maintain hope of more chapters being posted. Still absolutely worth a read as an unfinished WIP.

[scramblecat]

get askgamed 🫵

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

AND / OR

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

GETS ASKGAMED????

🎙️ - Which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

I have answered this one!! (Though I will add bc I didn’t on the other post. while NAEA is a fic that exists. holy fuck please nobody attempt that we just reached 120k today and we are still going. If you want to podfic something save your voice SAVE IT)

💌 - Share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

You already fully know about this but I’ll say it anyway. My closest to completion WIP (though it’s not near done) is yet another sickfic— but this one is for the TSP Theatre AU series created by hit writer TillyWunderWing who is very cool ajd awesome and I have definitely never talked to in my life. I say I’m excited about this one because it’s been so unbelievably fun to write and I cannot express that enough. I’m having a blast with it so stay tuned

Thank you for the ask!! :D

—————

Fic writer asks! Send me some of these emojis and I’ll answer the corresponding question 👍

[inkovert]

so um. I think I wrote the first chapter of the second draft of MDE sometime in late October/early November of 2022 (according to the date the document was created on Scrivener it was 11/7/22 but who knows if that was the OG document)

And at some point while I was writing this draft I gave myself the at-the-moment very reasonable word count goal of 120k words.

tell me why I look up at the header on Scrivener and it's like yeah...congrats you've pretty much reached that 😃

BRO THE STORY'S ONLY HALFWAY DONE askdlfasf;

I'm such an overwriter. I guess that's the consequence of being a plantser. But I am also baffled that I managed to write 120k words in just a little over a year. I don't think I've been that prolific like...ever in the past 15 years of me writing yeesh

[mcalhenwrites]

For what it's worth, I want to read your writing! lack of audience can really get to a writer but I feel sometimes one needs to be reminded of why they write? Are you writing for yourself or to please strangers, which I get is obviously important for motivation and as a professional worker but I guess what I'm trying to say is don't be too down about it. I appreciate your hard work and amazing stories.

For what it's worth, I want to read your writing! Thank you, anon, that means a lot to me!

I agree with "write for yourself", because you'll never please other people/have to select who you want to please, and that's never going to end well. You can't please everyone. I used to be in the Tales series fandom, and I'd have mixed feelings about some of the games that contradicted the way others felt. I liked some of the lesser known/older games for the same reasons people hated them. So as a creator, you have to think about what feels right to yourself. It's good advice, but I have seen it taken out of context. (For the record, I don't see that happening here, because you do clarify that it's harder when you're stepping into the profession. I'll get into that in a minute, if that's okay!)

That said, I think there needs to be a distinction between writing and sharing. Writing is a process for myself, but the career aspect is stressful and straining and honestly feels hopeless most days. I hate the idea that every single part of a story needs to be about the plot, because the formulaic ways of the publishing industry don't work for every story, every writer. I think the existence of fanfic is proof enough of that, actually! So many of us love fics that cover what might have happened behind the scenes or just… we'll read fifteen different stories of the same tropes for a single ship. And tbh, I think a lot of writers - including myself - really prefer to have more canon included than the publishing industry has room for.

I'm trying to find a middle balance, personally. I want to share! I'm an avid reader, and if no one had shared, what would I have read growing up? Plus the want of financial stability, which is pressure I sincerely despise. I'd happily share everything for free if I had $100k-$120k a year for the rest of my life so I could have my house, healthcare, 3-5 cats, garden, video games, and home library. xD

Sharing is actually pretty difficult for me. I barely showed anyone my work until I was in my mid-twenties. I started writing stories down at age seven. I'm now in my thirties. But sharing is something I want to do and it doesn't get easier after all this time of trying to spread my work. Past the perfectionism (I am definitely working on this and have already made improvements) and the history of bullying I've had over my writing (of which there's been a lot). Overcoming all of that is tough. Which means I feel a little extra sensitive to the idea that if something of mine isn't getting traction, it's confirmation of all the times someone mocked my writing or vaguetweeted by a BNF to make fun of fics I'd just posted. And while I'm starting to realize that some of that likely comes from jealousy - not necessarily that I'm a great writer that poses a threat, but just that my writing means that I might take attention from them in the fandom (which is not how that works) - it's still so hard to stop thinking, "What if they were right?" when I don't get any or very few likes/reblogs or kudos/comments, etc.

I have worked very hard to be a better writer, thinking I could escape that. Now I'm beginning to recognize that that hard work has paid off, but I was also never as bad as everyone made me feel (including myself). I want to keep working hard, because my standards for myself are high.

My writing makes me so happy, I can't describe how much. So even through all the pain above? I still do it. I just think that maybe there needs to be more separation between writing and the results of that ever reaching the public eye. (Most of my writing doesn't. I write a lot. XD)

Sorry to get a little real there. And so lengthy, ugh! I never can say things briefly.

Thank you for reading out, though, and thank you for reading my writing. There are more people reading my works than I know, but sometimes I fear that I'm the only one who will want what I'm making.

I've had IRL and health issues bringing me down too, which overlapped with stressing out over the editing of the next chapter of the story I've been posting. That chapter wasn't making me happy, so I'm taking a break, ignoring it a few days, and going back with fresh eyes later. So that all was knocking down my mood, and seeing only one person comment on the latest chapter, I was like, "Oh, maybe I'm just making a big old mess of this story"… perhaps because I see the mess in my head? Every possible path I threw out, every scene I want to write but won't fit in the story, every part I feel is lacking, every bit of character and world info, etc. Is that translating into something coherent on the page, I wonder, and… it's a lot to think about.

Sorry for TL;DR on this answer, and again: thank you. ;A;

[kichoukotori]

These are my thoughts on the balloon matter as someone with a career in aviation. It's very long and a bit rambling but I wanted to get it out there.

Its standard procedure to scramble jets (typically two) to approach any rogue aircraft, particularly ones with no radio contact. Such was the infamous case with a golfers(?) plane (I believe a leerjet) that traveled over several states and was radio silent. Turns out the plane depressurized and both pilots passed out due to hypoxia. Eventually it ran out of fuel and crashed into an empty field, of course while being accompanied by the fighters so they could monitor its estimated crash site.

If a pilot does not communicate with scrambled jets (via wing movement signals or hand signals from within the cockpit) the jets may be authorized to down them in order to keep the larger public safe.

Now, I don't know how this works with weather balloons. Generally they travel incredibly slowly, think 20 knots on the high end as opposed to a low 80 knots of small propeller aircraft. Offhand I don't know the speed of fighters, but they're quite big so I figure they don't dip far below 100 knots. I imagine it would be quite the hassle for a jet to pace a weather balloon for much distance at all.

Offhand I don't know of an instance where a jet was ordered to shoot down an aircraft within the United States as rogue planes tend to handle themselves one way or another. Then again I also don't know of an instance where jets were scrambled to follow an aircraft off the coast. To my knowledge this is an unprecedented instance in peacetime.

Personally, I don't see a reason why they would shoot it down over water, especially if it flew off of the east coast. I believe news reports said it was 60k feet up, so there was little risk of it popping as surveillance balloons can generally fly at an upwards of 120k feet. It would have been very safely out of the way of virtually all commercial aircraft since they tend to reach 50k on the upper end. If it was travelling east it would have very likely continued a similar course, remaining in New York's oceanic airspace control and thus would be easy to navigate around. My point in all of this is that it poses essentially no risk to the general public, the only risk is the fact that it's pretty much a UFO which could act unpredictably.

NASA published a document as of Oct 2022 somewhat establishing what communications airspace above 60k feet would require. Basically, we don't have enough stuff capable of flying that high for it to have ever mattered all that much. The balloon was definitely in controlled airspace, but there are not super clear guidelines on what upper class E airspace requires for "civilian" aircraft. AFAIK as long as you're above 60k you don't actually have to establish communications, only when you breach into a lower flight level.

I think our response was incredibly shortsighted and extremely undiplomatic. There was very little risk to the public and it only threatened the military, and frankly I don't think there's much of military bases that can't be seen already. I would have preferred a discussion between the two nations about the capability and (directional) intentions of the balloon, the purpose of it being secondary. Shooting it down and asking questions later was seriously reckless from a form of transportation that prides itself on safety and regulation. Who could expect more from this country in its current state, though? I'm thoroughly disappointed, to say the least.

[asynca]

This is so upsetting to me as someone who cares about others but also as a mum.

The best days of my life were at uni. The first thing I did at uni was go directly to the queer lounge and make some of the longest friends of my life there, on the first day. I hung out there so much, and we got up to so much stuff! I'd just been kicked out of home (for the same reason), but I didn't really have time to grieve that then because i was welcomed into the arms of the most wonderful queer people and given so much love and support. I was out every night. Between classes every day I hung out with a rotating group of about 30-40 people. I had a nokia 3210. If was the most exciting thing I'd ever owned because suddenly my friends could reach me 24/7 and we did so to organize midnight skinny-dipping and 24h KMart meetups.

I've barely used my first degree, and it didn't matter because although we had to pay for uni, it was only like $1000 a subject so I ended up with a $16k debt that wasn't too hard to pay off.

A couple of years back, I went to the queer lounge again before I moved away from Melbourne. I thought, I'm at Monash guest lecturing, we had a lot of mature-age students while I was there, I'll go in.

It was.... different. People were sitting in little cliques. Everyone was on a device (studying, I could see). It was peaceful in there, definitely, very different from the campus centre outside. It didn't have the energy and vibrancy I remembered. Everyone looked tired.

I thought a lot about that. Why would it? Kids don't have the hope I did in the 90s. The world is going to shit. They've been online and accessible to their friends and family the entire time they're awake their whole lives, it's crossed the threshold of being exciting and new and is now exhausting and a chore, sometimes.

I don't really know what to do. I have children, I originally wanted them to go to uni not really to get an education (although that would be great!) but to have the experiences I had and to learn to think the way I do (social justice). But kids are already learning to do that in high school now on thinks like tiktok, so idk if it would matter. And the DEBTS these days from uni!!!! Like what the fuck $120k??? That's so much!

idk man. it sucks. I wish I could give every single person reading this the absolute exhilaration I had for my first four years of uni. The feeling of joy, hope, and companionship - being surrounded by people who care about you and would fight for you - is healing in way nothing else ever could be. Even if I don't have a large, strong group of friends like that anymore, that I had them means the world to me.

I wish that for all of you.

It's not even possible to really articulate all the things modern society is stealing from younger generations, but this companionship and solidarity is definitely one of those thefts. There's a horrible hole of loneliness and separation from others left in its wake.

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

[superheroclock]

Update On SHC Episode 1 Part 4 Progress With Screenshots!

-Posted on the original website on: July 31, 2015

STATUS CHECK: Let It Go videos - DONE, 100k Subs - ACHIEVED, Vlog about some announcement stuff - DONE, Youtube 100k Subscriber Silver Play Button Reward Animated Unboxing Video - DONE, Draw Against Time Finale - Eeehh... that can wait.

So now that the gritty bits are pretty much taken care off, I'm back working on Super Hero Clock Episode 1 part 4. If you guys have watched my vlog (listed above), you'd have probably been informed of the progress so far. But anyways, so far, the backgrounds, sound effects and even scoring (background music) is done! What is left now is the shading for the characters and video editing. After all that are done, part 4 will be complete! Once it's complete it will be put in line for release while waiting to hit the 150k subs subs milestone.

Right now the channel is at about 120k subs. I know you all must be disappointed to wait till I get another 30k more subs just to watch the next installment of SHC, right? But I have good reasons for that.

Subscriber-wise, all the subscribers my channel has considerably accumulated so far came from the Genderbend Let It Go videos and only a very small group of them came from SHC videos. Some of those who subscribed from watching the Let It Go videos might watch SHC as well but it is still hard to determine how many would now. I'm gauging it would be just a fair number of them but at least more than the number of people who watched SHC before the first Let It Go video was uploaded. Another thing is, unlike last time, I'm planning to do more SHC videos. For the first 3 parts, I uploaded them right after completing them but I didn't release them constantly and fans had to wait for quite a while to watch each video. The reason why SHC Episode 1 part 1, 2 and 3 were not constantly released was because of the amount of time I took to finish each video. I got other projects to do while working on SHC at that time and whenever I did, I had to put SHC production on hold. Focus always got shifted away from SHC production causing its progress to get dragged a lot.

So this time, I'm not going to release an SHC video right after I complete it. Instead, I'm going to keep it first, and move straight to making the next one, and repeat this process for as many SHC episode videos I can make until I reach 150k subs. Then when my channel hits that subscriber milestone, I will start to release the videos one by one hopefully in a more constant time frame so that fans don't have to wait too long for each SHC sequel video and can anticipate when each video will be available on my channel to watch. That said, I would focus as much as possible on SHC production and let it have more priority this time.

Now, 30k subs might seem like a long wait for the fans but for me, as the person making this series, it feels like I'm closing in on a time limit - like finishing a test paper in time in an exam. It's not a long way to go for me. In fact, it's rather too short a time. I made this decision to continue the series this way when I reached 100k subs way back around March. Now it is August and I have 120k subs.... and there is a part 5.

I'm not sure if you can imagine the anxiety, stress and adrenaline felt from even just the thought of it but whatever it feels like, I will try as hard as I can to make this work for Super Hero Clock, and for the fans.

150,000 subscribers. The race is ON.