#seventeen meant something VERY DIFFERENT even just a century ago

[thatgirlonstage]

[I’m being grumpy about knowing too much about the histories of various royal families again don’t mind me]

Seeing a whole post about the absurdity of Zuko being firelord that takes his being seventeen as the most absurd element and I’m just sitting here massaging my temples bc like listen. Look. I get that having a seventeen year old running a country is not actually a good idea. But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t, historically, happened kind of a lot

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,”  Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

[fatefulfaerie]

Domesticity

Zelink Week 2021 prompt #5/7 @zelinkweek2021

Word Count: 1,951

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 (post)

Additional Prompts Followed: Hearts, Family

No Trigger Warnings

“Is one of us dying?”

The feast was definitely unsettling to Wendie, and although she was mostly joking, she couldn’t help but think that such a nice dinner at such a random time of the year was odd. Of course her dad was a great cook, but this was a step above, despite there being no family birthdays for at least three months and no holidays for five.

“No,” her mother said as she placed on the table a large bowl of goat-buttered mashed potatoes, one of Wendie’s favorite foods. She had said it with a slight motherly laugh and a warm smile. “No one is dying. We’re just having a family dinner.”

The mother, who went by the name Zelda, had aged gracefully over the past twenty years, blonde hair highlighted with streaks of white that her husband would often call angelic and ethereal when she would doubt her beauty. At the moment, her age-hued hair was swept into a single braid behind her head, messy yet secure.

“Our family dinners aren’t usually this elaborate,” Wendie observed. “You made mashed potatoes and seafood rice balls—which is Elyjah’s favorite food—grilled carrots, meat pie, mushroom skewers and you have an apple turnover on the counter for dessert!”

“Nothing gets past you,” her father said, putting a bowl of baked and salted radishes on the table. His blue eyes looked over to Zelda. “I think we raised them too smart.”

“Nonsense,” Zelda said, walking forward and using the rag that was just draped over her shoulder to wipe a smattering of flour off of Link’s forehead. “Where’s Elyjah?”

Wendie made a sound that sounded a lot like a lazy “I don’t know” while shrugging her shoulders where she sat at the table.

“He can just eat when he gets home,” Wendie reasoned. “There’s more than enough food.”

Wendie didn’t see her parents exchange glances, the seventeen-year old not caring in the slightest that her twin brother wasn’t here to ruin her first dibs on dinner.

“I’ll try and find him,” Zelda said with a sigh, Wendie looking back up at her parents. Link nodded as Zelda departed. Wendie once again questioned what was going on.

“Ly!” The father and daughter heard outside, Zelda from just the doorstep of their modest Hateno home calling out to the entirety of Hyrule. Link sat down across from his daughter, elbows on the table and arms folded into each other. The deep thought he was in concerned Wendie greatly. He wouldn’t even meet her glance. Was she in trouble?

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Elyjah.

Of all the people to be in trouble, surely it was him. He had never gotten into anything truly bad but he was the biggest prankster in Hateno. The only shop he wasn’t banned from was the dye shop. The green-eyed troublemaker was here nonetheless and Wendie prepared herself for another fun show. Zelda moved to sit down next to Link at the table but Elyjah stopped as soon as he saw the table, mouth popped open and body frozen.

“Is someone dying?”

He had looked over to his sister when he asked the question.

“Yeah,” she said. “You.”

“What?” Elyjah asked, almost believing it.

“Wendie, that’s enough now,” Zelda said, before looking over to her son. “No one is dying. We would just like to talk to you both.”

Elyjah sat next to Wendie with the same bewildered look as her, trying to figure out what it was before their parents spit it out. It was like Hylia’s Day presents except they didn’t have a good feeling about this, especially when Link took Zelda’s hand and looked at their children, ready to address them.

And yet it was Zelda who started.

“Do you two remember the fairytale we used to tell you?” Zelda inquired, her voice shaky. “The bedtime story? Of the princess and the knight?”

Neither Elyjah nor Wendie had any clue of the relevance, but they both remembered the tale well.

“The one with the weird ending?” Wendie asked nonetheless. “Where he rescued her and then that was it?”

“Yeah,” Elyjah said. “Didn’t they just stare at each other in silence? After all they had been through, it seemed like there should have been more.”

Link dove his hand into his forehead.

“Zelda, you could have given them a better ending,” Link suggested.

Zelda scoffed and put her hands on her hips.

“It was a lesson in imagination,” she said. “And clearly none of you have any.”

“But that’s besides the point…” Link said, prompting Zelda in a different direction.

“Yes,” Zelda said, nodding at Link and returning her gaze to their children, confused as ever. And yet she smiled at them.

“You both have grown up so fast,” Zelda said. “We both love you very much and cannot believe that you have blossomed right before our eyes into adults.”

Zelda’s smile became sad and she bowed her head.

“You see it’s a lot easier to lie to children.”

Wendie’s brow furrowed.

“Lie…” she repeated from her mother.

When Zelda’s head tilted back up, green was glazed with waves of coming tears, making the emeralds that Link fell in love with a hundred years ago shine even brighter.

“That fairytale…” Zelda said. “The princess who used her sealing power to keep away Calamity Ganon and the knight who slept in a ruined Hyrule for a hundred years in order to recover from his injuries and save her…”

Zelda stopped herself. Twenty years of keeping it in and it seems it wanted to stay in. She wrestled with her conflicted heart, kept it at bay long enough for her to blurt it out.

“It’s true,” Zelda said, no weakness in her voice, no lie, no apprehension. “The knight and the princess really did fight the calamity, really did survive a century to see it through and then some. Once they tracked down the cause of the anomaly, destroying the true form of Ganon, they settled down in Hateno. They got married and eventually gave life to twins, a boy and a girl.” Zelda’s eyes were proud as she looked upon her children, although they glistened with tears. Her heart hurt to see their faces in shock, but the outspoken truth felt better than she could have imagined. She felt Link’s grip tighten around her fingers.

“You both have royal blood in you,” Zelda said. “Even though I stepped away from the throne in the search of a simpler, more fulfilling life, you both still have claim to the titles of Prince Elyjah and Princess Wendie. We wanted you to know in case that path would prove fulfilling for you and…well, now that you’re adults you have the right to know the truth.”

Wendie stood up and walked out of the house, her parents not daring to stop her. Elyjah, however, just sat in shock, piecing it all together in his mind. Link and Zelda both could see his green eyes working, much like his mother’s did when she went over schematics or theorized about plant life.

“The story,” he finally started, “everything you went through…the pressure…you wanted to protect us from that…you wanted to give us the childhood you never had…that neither of you had.”

Link nodded.

“That’s right.”

Elyjah pursed his lips and nodded. Sometimes he was just like his dad. He shrugged.

“Okay,” he said, replacing his empty plate with the one filled with the seafood rice balls meant for the whole family. “Cool,” he continued, or at least it sounded like the word “cool”, his mouth mostly filled with rice.

Link raised his eyebrows and looked over at Zelda.

“Apparently we’re…cool.” Link said the last word as if it were completely foreign.

“Not all of us,” Zelda reminded her husband. She started to stand up. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Yet Link placed a hand on her arm.

“I’ll go,” Link said. “You stay and enjoy the food.”

Link found his daughter on the banks of Firly Pond, knees hugged close to her chest and water lapping at her bare toes.

At first he waited with his hand on the bark of the near apple tree, pursing his lips. Sometimes he was thrust back in time twenty years, when he felt he had no idea how to be a dad. This was one of those moments.

Link saw in his mind’s eye Wendie’s big blue eyes staring up at him, stubby arms reaching for him. He smiled. She grew up so fast.

“I know you’re there,” he heard Wendie say. She didn’t turn her head away from the pond. “Did you come to give me a speech?”

Link walked towards her.

“Maybe.”

He sat down next to her and Wendie only gave him the smallest of glances.

“I feel like I don’t know my parents at all,” she finally said.

Link nodded.

“I understand.” He said. “I don’t agree, but I understand.”

Wendie looked over to his profile, trying to ascertain how he could be serious. The calamity was real and her parents fought it. Sheikah technology really could heal fatal wounds and the goddesses power really was wielded by a mortal, not to mention her own mother, who never seemed like a princess in the slightest. Her father was a knight in a kingdom that really did exist and she?

Well she was a princess. This whole time, she was a princess. The girl who was called the “ugly duckling” of the family as a child was a princess in peasant’s clothing. She almost wanted to go brag to the town, but that seemed petty for just a small ounce of appreciation from the people her age who used to tease her when they would play as children.

Her parents were legends and in comparison, what was she?

Definitely not a princess.

“You know us as what we became after everything we went through,” Link finally said, having taken the time to get his words together. “The people we were before…”

He hesitated.

“We were nothing more than what the kingdom wanted us to be…statues, legends, weapons…we were never fully ourselves, and we could never afford to be ourselves with an entire kingdom looking at us to save them from a calamity. The slivers that were left of us found a friendship in each other, one that grew into love in time. After everything was settled, we began to truly find ourselves, basking in the freedom to do so. It’s something that usually occurs in a fifteen year old but your mother and I were a hundred and twenty years old when we solved the identity crisis. She did not want to be royalty and I did not want to be a knight. When we finally did not need to be those things, we took our first breaths as Link and Zelda. We wanted our children to take those breaths from the very second they were born, and that is why we let you grow up before we told you the truth. We wanted royalty to be an option for you two, not a necessity. We wanted you to become yourselves, not tiny versions of us. I only hope we have…at least I think we have.”

Wendie smiled.

“You have,” she said. “If you want your daughter to have absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life.”

Link brought his daughter closer by hugging her far shoulder, bringing her close enough to kiss the top of her head.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he said. It sounded strange but Link didn’t mean it as a bad thing. “Because finding out your passion for yourself is the most exciting thing in this entire wild land.”

[i-just-like-to-see-you-happy]

In Another Life

So this is a bit of a story I wanted to do but will probably never finish. I thought you all might want to see it even though it’s not done. It has a beginning and an end, and a bit of a middle. So you can still kinda get the gist.

The premise is that Luke and Lorelai are plucked from their own timeline  circa "Take the Deviled Eggs" and dropped in the middle of the civil war-era.  November 2003/June 1766-May 1767

Oh and it even has two playlists, because three-years-ago-me was extra: In Another Life (orchestral soundtrack), and In Another Life (thematic soundtrack)

--

She frowned at him. “Luke?”

He nodded at her. “Miss Gilmore.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what?” He asked.

Lorelai pointed at his clothes. “Like you're the eighteenth century you. Did Taylor finally get to you?”

Luke gaped at her. “Are… are you talking about Taylor Doose?”

She scoffed at him. “Of course I'm talking about Taylor Doose, what other Taylor do you know?”

"No, I meant-" He sighed. "Taylor Doose, town selectman?"

"Yes."

"Of Stars Hollow."

"Again, yes. Did you hit your head or something? Are you okay?"

“Lorelai, look around.” Luke said in a low voice. “What do you see?”

Lorelai rolled her eyes, but looked around like Luke asked. “I see… stables. Horses. Trees. I'm sorry, is there something I should be looking for?”

“How about cars? Power lines? Electric lights? Any trace of technology, anywhere?”

Lorelai frowned. Luke was right. There wasn't anything like that. She even reached into her pocket, where her cellphone should have been.

“Impossible.” Lorelai muttered, and checked the other pocket. “This is impossible.”

“That's what I thought.” Luke said, looking grave. “I thought it was just a dream, until I burned my hand earlier.”

“How did you do that?”

“I was working.”

“You work a lot in your dreams?”

“You'd be surprised.” He muttered. “Anyway, once I got burned and I didn’t wake up, I knew that something was seriously weird.”

“So you came out here to talk to me?”

“No, I came out here cause Rory brought me a message from you, saying that there was a broken door latch that needed fixed, so apparently whenever we ended up, I'm still you're go to guy for repairs.”

“Wait, whenever? As in-”

“Welcome to seventeen-sixty-six.”

--

Lorelai sat heavily on the porch, and Luke sat next to her.

"Seventeen-sixty-six!”

"Yup."

"As in one seven six six?"

"Yes."

"The year seventeen seventy-six?"

"Yes."

“How?!”

“Not a clue.” Luke said. “All I know is, I woke up this morning, and I wasn't in my apartment. Got dressed in the clothes I assumed were mine, went downstairs. Turns out, I own and run a restaurant.”

“Well, somethings just don't change.” Lorelai said. “So, who am I here? Where are we?”

Luke smiled at her. “You’re still Lorelai Gilmore, near as I can tell. You're the owner of the Dragonfly Hotel.”

“I- I... I own an inn?!”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I own an inn?” Lorelai repeated. “What about Sookie?”

Luke shrugged. “Don’t know. Jess only mentioned you.”

Lorelai did a double take. “I’m sorry, did you say Jess?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, he lives with me. Been living with me for a while, apparently.”

“What about his mom?”

Again Luke shrugged. “Don’t know. I figure that however this happened, if I’m still me and Jess is… well, still Jess, then Liz must not be too different either.”

“So Jess is still… Holden Caufield."

"Dean." Luke said suddenly.

"Or James Dean, sure."

"No, Dean." Luke said, pointing. "Forester."

Lorelai looked up. Sure enough there was Dean. He approached them, and greeted them politely. "Miss Gilmore. Mr. Danes."

"Dean." Lorelai said. "What brings you here?"

"Well, I thought I'd call in on Rory before I got to work. Is she here?"

"No, she went to the bookstore in Litchfield." Luke said.

"Oh. Okay." Dean looked crestfallen. "I guess I'll get to work then."

Lorelai held her tongue until Dean was out of hearing range. "So. There's still a Dean."

"Apparently."

"And a Jess."

"Definitely."

"Wow." Lorelai said. "Wait, you said... seventeen-sixty-six.”

"Yes, I did."

"But Stars Hollow wasn't established until..."

"Seventeen-seventy-nine, I know."

"So, we're not in Stars Hollow."

"Nope." Luke said. "I live in Litchfield, which is about a forty minute walk away from here."

"And where's here?"

"A little place called Harristown."

"Harristown?" Lorelai questioned. "I've never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised. It's on the outskirts of where Stars Hollow is today. Or will be, anyway, two hundred and some years from now."

Lorelai rested her head in her hands. "My head is spinning."

--

"My uncle isn't feeling to great today. He's been a little confused."

"My mom too." Rory said. "It must be something in the air."

"Must be." Jess said. "So, what did you find to read today?"

"Robinson Crusoe." Rory handed him the book. "Ever read it?"

Jess examined the cover carefully. "Parts of it. Never owned a copy, so I haven't read it all the way through. Wanted to."

"You can borrow it when I'm done reading it if you like." Rory offered.

"In exchange for?" Jess asked.

"In exchange for nothing." Rory said. "You said you wanted to read it, and you can. When I'm done with it."

She reached for the book, but Jess pulled it away. "How about if we take turns reading it out loud while we walk? That way, we both get started reading it and we don't have to keep talking."

Rory didn't look happy, but she consented. "Fine. But I want that book back when I get home."

Jess smirked at her. "As you wish."

--

(a flashback to when Jess and Rory met for the first time)

Jess quoted, from memory. "My young Readers, Before you begin the following Sheets, I beg you will stop a Moment at this Preface, to consider with me, what is the true Use of Reading; and if you can once fix this Truth in your Minds, namely, that the true Use of Books is to make you wiser and better, you will then have both Profit and Pleasure from what you read."

Rory stopped, and turned about face. "You've read 'The Governess'!"

Jess shrugged. "A few times."

"I've yet to meet another person who's read it, let alone a boy of your age." Rory said. "I thought you said you didn't read."

He shrugged again. "I said I hadn't read much. But what I have read, I've read a fair amount of times.

Rory set back on her way. "Then you lie!"

Jess jogged along to keep pace with her. "I didn't lie so much as I interpret the question differently than you did. You asked if I read much, I took it to mean if I had read very many books. But given your response, the question you were asking was how much time I spent reading."

"I... I suppose." Rory admitted.

"Then how could I answer correctly a question you yourself failed to ask?"

Rory stopped suddenly once more, and answered slowly. "That's a fair enough question. You have my apologies.”

"I accept." Jess said. "So, did you still want to ask?"

"Since you already know the question I want to ask, then why don't you simply answer it?" She asked.

"Very well." Jess agreed. "I read much of the time, when I'm not studying or working for my uncle. I'd much rather read than do most things."

Rory smiled at him. "Then we seem to have much in common."

--

Lorelai crumpled on the ground next to the hollow oak, not caring any longer if her dress became dirty. She took a shaky breath in, trying to calm herself, but only managed to fall apart even more. She let out a ragged sob, followed by another. And another. She buried her face in her arms, and let herself cry. It was only when someone spoke that she realized that she wasn't alone.

"Lorelai?"

She looked up, and saw Luke. She desperately tried to wipe the tears away from her face, but more fell. Luke said nothing, but quickly moved to sit next to her, and took her in his arms, holding her close. She let him, and opened her mouth to speak, only to let out another sob. She hugged him back, tightly, and he held her closer still as she cried into his shirt. After a while, she calmed, and they stayed like that for a while.

"So how was your day?" Lorelai deadpanned.

"Lorelai, what happened?" Luke asked gently.

She shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Just that 18th century Emily Gilmore is a lot crueler than 21st century Emily Gilmore."

She didn't think that he could hold her any tighter, but he did.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I heard people talk, but... I never thought it would be this bad."

She sniffled. "No, neither did I."

"Why do you think we're here?" Luke said. "Why now? Why like this?"

"I don't know." Lorelai said. "Maybe we did something and pissed off the wrong, sadistic god."

"Maybe."

"There is one good thing here, though."

"What's that?"

"You." Lorelai sniffed again. "Seriously. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here."

"You would've figured it out." Luke said softly. "You're capable of anything, including figuring out how to navigate this crazy, backward place."

She let go of him reluctantly, and looked up to his face. She spoke softly. "You're still the best thing here, Luke."

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but could say nothing. He just looked down at her, still holding her. She was still looking up at him. And slowly, hesitating, she brought her hand up to caress his cheek, and let the other rest on his chest. He moved one of his hands to the back of her neck, and gently pulled her closer, until they could feel each other's breath on their faces. Then slowly, sweetly, Luke kissed her. She kissed him back, wrapping her arm around him once again. They pulled apart, and rested their warmed cheeks together.

"Is this really happening?" Lorelai breathed.

Luke swallowed. "God, I hope so."

"Promise me that if this does end up being a dream, you'll never forget this." Lorelai said, a little louder.

Luke hugged her closer, burying his face in her neck. "Never. I could never forget this."

--

Lorelai woke in her own bed, still partly dressed. She laid there, remembering her dream. Luke, the hollow oak, the stars. Sweet, soft, kisses that comforted her more than anything he could have said.

She opened her eyes, a lump forming in throat. It was just a dream, she thought. Nothing but a dream. Nothing's changed.

She sat up when Sookie came into the room, carrying a tray full of food. "Morning, hon."

"Hey, Sook." Lorelai said.

"How are you feeling?" Sookie asked sympathetically. "You had kind of a rough day yesterday."

"Yeah, I guess I did." Lorelai took the coffee that Sookie offered her. "Hey, how'd I get back yesterday, the last thing I remember I was out in the forest."

"Luke brought you back. You don't remember?" Sookie asked.

"Uh, no." Lorelai frowned.

"I'm not surprised, you were so exhausted. If Luke hadn't offered to carry you up the stairs, you would have had to sleep on the couch in your office. Not very comfortable."

"Uh, no, it would not have been." Lorelai said. "When did he bring me back?"

"Oh, it was late." Sookie said. "He didn't want to walk back to Litchfield in the dark, so he's still here. Did you want to talk to him?"

"Oh, uh, maybe."

"Well, in that case, you eat your breakfast, then we'll get you prettied up." Sookie said.

"Why'd you say it like that?" Lorelai said.

"You should have seen the way he was looking at you."

"Which was how?"

"Like you were his whole life." Sookie said quietly. "He changed his expression as soon as he thought someone was watching, but I know what I saw."

--

Luke felt his heart racing. "Lorelai..."

They met in the middle, hands meeting bodies as lips kissed. Soft, sweet kisses turned hot, passionate, and hurried. Lorelai eagerly tugged Luke's shirt from under his belt, and he stilled her hands, placing his own over them.

"Wait, wait." He said. "Are you sure?"

"Luke." She sighed. "I woke up thinking that holding you in my arms and kissing you would only happen in my dreams. And then I find out, for whatever... inexplicable reason that it wasn't just a dream. And if that isn't a goddamned miracle, I don't know what else is. Now, I don't know about you, but I would very much like to enjoy my miracle."

He grinned at her. "Well, when you put it like that..."

--

(At some point the the storyling, Jess disappeared apparently??)

"You said Jess and Dean came to blows." Lorelai said cautiously.

Luke immediately shook his head. "No. I don't care what world we live it, Dean couldn't- he wouldn't."

"Okay, forget I said anything." Lorelai said quietly.

--

(upon Jess’ return)

"Jess, they dragged the river after you left!" Luke shouted. "Do you know how scared I-"

Luke covered his face and turned around. Jess just stood there. Luke sighed and turned back around.

"Jess, you can't just take off like that." Luke said. "You can't... You just can't. You tell me when you're leaving, you tell me where you're going, so I don't have to think about you maybe lying dead somewhere!"

Jess stood there silent for a few minutes more, before whispering- "I'm sorry."

"You bet your ass you're sorry." Luke said. He sighed, and really looked at him. "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt, you're not sick?"

Jess shook his head.

"Did you find out if your mom's okay?" Luke asked.

Jess shrugged. "She's the same."

Luke nodded, not really surprised. He sighed again. "Come 'ere."

Jess stepped closer, and was surprised when Luke pulled him into a hug, and hesitated a few moments before slowly hugging him back.

"You tell me where you are, okay?" Luke said. "Send me a letter or something, I don't care. Just let me know you're... Let me know you're still alive, for god sakes."

"I will." Jess said. his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry."

--

(After... sometime followed their aforemention... interlude)

"Not here." Lorelai whispered, and took him by the hand. She lead them to the barn.

"Lorelai, where are we going?" Luke said. "What's this about?"

"Not here." She said again.

"What, are you afraid the horses are going to hear?" Luke said.

She glared at him. "No, I just want to talk somewhere private, that's all."

"This is crazy." He muttered, but followed her up the ladder to the hay loft. She laid out a blanket for them to sit on.

"Lorelai, what's this about?"

"Well, you know that thing in history where they'd see if you were pregnant by injecting some of your blood into a rabbit, and if you were pregnant, it would die?"

"Yes." Luke said, completely mystified.

"Well, not to put it too finely, but... the rabbit's dead." Lorelai said.

"Ok-ay?" Luke said. "What rabbit?"

"My rabbit." Lorelai said nervously.

"Your rabbit?" Luke said.

"Yes, my rabbit is dead. It's dead and buried." She sighed. "This was so much easier in 1984, I just showed Chris the stick and he got it."

"What are you talking about, what sti-" Luke's words stopped there, and his eyes got huge as he finally registered what she was talking about. "Oh."

"And there it is." Lorelai said.

"Oh my god." Luke breathed. "You're pregnant?"

"Yeah, I'm- I'm pregnant." Lorelai nodded.

"Oh my god." He said again quietly.

"You keep saying that." Lorelai said. "Is that a good 'oh my god', or a what-have-I-got-myself-into 'oh my god'-"

Luke pulled her into his lap and kissed her. He kissed her lips, and her cheeks and the rest of her face until she was grinning.

"Okay, I'm guessing that it was a good 'oh my god'." She mumbled.

"Very good." He kissed her again.

"So... you're happy about this?" Lorelai asked.

"Yes, of course I'm happy! Aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am." Lorelai said. "And even happier that you are too."

--

(And a heartbreaking return to the Real World)

"Never. I could never forget this."

Lorelai woke, clutching her pillow for dear life. She could remember the whole thing vividly. Her inn, Rory, Dean, Jess.

Luke.

She sat up, and looked around. She was home again, back in the age of technology. She realized she was still clutching the pillow across her belly.

The baby.

She threw her pillow aside and touched her stomach. She knew instinctively that there was nothing there, but still she had to check. She rushed to her bathroom and pulled out the box that she kept there for emergencies, because there was no way she was going to wait to drive anywhere to get them, and she certainly wasn't going to buy them in Stars Hollow.

She already knew what the answer was going to be, and didn't want to look. But she did anyway.

No baby.

No Luke.

Today seemed like a good day to wallow.

(SIDENOTE: not a miscarriage! I realized I that I didn’t make that clear in the text, but I swear, it’s not a miscarriage. Through historical/time travel/dream logic, the baby just doesn’t exist in the “future”)

--

"Never. I could never forget this."

Luke sat bolt upright in bed, reaching out for a body that wasn't there. Once he came fully awake, he sighed. He was back in his apartment, above his diner. It had simply been a dream.

Everything came back to him all as once. Lorelai, the town, Jess, Rory, falling asleep under the stars, holding Lorelai in his arm. Feeling their baby kick against his palm.

Their baby. Their dream life.

Never had he wanted to cry more than that moment.

--

Luke seemed grumpier than usually that morning.

Just Rory came in that morning. Luke wasn't sure if he were more upset or grateful. He went to take her order.

"Where's your mom today?" He asked gruffly.

"She's at home. Something happened, but she won't tell me what." Rory said.

Luke immediately became concerned. "What do you mean something happened?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know. She said she wasn't feeling good, and called in sick to work. But..."

"What is it, Rory?" He asked.

"It doesn't really seem like she's sick, more like... she's wallowing."

"Wallowing?"

"Yeah, like when you get sad about something, like a break up, and you just stay home, watch movies, and eat junk." Rory said. "But I didn't even think she seeing with anybody."

"Well, she's gonna be okay." Luke assured her. "She always is."

"I guess."

"Ready to order?"

--

Luke knocked on Lorelai's door. She answered, clearly surprised to find him there. "Luke!"

"Hey, I know you weren't expecting me, but, uh, Rory said you weren't feelin' too good, so I thought I'd bring you a care package."

"Thanks, Luke. That means a lot." She smiled at him, somewhat sadly. After a second, she added, "Would you like to come in?"

He did, despite the part of his brain telling him that it was a bad idea.

"So, what happened?" Luke asked curiously. "You just woke up feeling sick, or what?"

"No, nothing like that, I just..." She hesitated. "I know it sounds stupid, but I had this... really, really amazing dream, and- well, anyway, I woke up, and realized the dream wasn't real, and I guess I'm just..."

"Wallowing." Luke finished.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Yeah, I know how that feels." Luke admitted. "Same thing happened to me, too. Been crabby all day."

"Bummer."

"Yeah." Luke said. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to your movie."

"Sure you can't stay?" She offered. "We could be miserable and crabby together."

He smiled at her. "As much fun as that sounds, I gotta get back to the diner."

She smiled back. "Well, thanks for the food. You're still the best thing here."

He frowned at her.

"You're still the best thing here, Luke."

"What did you say?" Luke asked abruptly.

"I said thank you. Did you not catch it the first time?"

"No, after that." Luke said. "What did you say after that?"

"You're the best thing here?" Lorelai said. "What about it?"

"Nothing, I just..." He shook his head. "Never mind. Enjoy your food."

Luke turned around and headed for the door, but hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. He swallowed hard, and walked back into the living room. She looked up at him. "Did you forget something?"

"No, I..." He inhaled, throwing caution to the wind. "Actually, I promised that there was something I would never forget."

Lorelai's jaw dropped. She blinked. And then she blinked again. Luke waited anxiously. He'd expected some kind of reaction. Whether she would just blow the whole thing off, or just laugh, he didn't know, but he certainly didn't expect dead silence.

"Lorelai?"

"The oak." She said flatly, and Luke's heart soared.

"The hollow oak." He said urgently. "Where we-"

"Watched the stars." Lorelai finished, whispering. "Oh my god."

"Lorelai."

Luke crossed the room and kissed her, and she kissed him back fiercely. Luke touched her face, and felt tears. He pulled away from her to look at her, and she placed a hand over her belly. She bit her lip, and looked up at him sadly.

"The baby-" She tried to explain tearfully. "I don't- It's not-"

"I know." He murmured, and pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, I know, I know..."

--

When Rory came home that evening, she was greeted with a completely different Lorelai than the one she'd left that morning.

"Mom, what's-" She looked in the kitchen. "Is Luke here? Is he cooking?"

Lorelai wrapped her arm around her daughter, and lead her into the living room.

"Hey, hon, do you want to hear about my dream last night?"

[fictionalnormalcy]

TBWASN Ch. 12

The Boy with a Strange Name

Rating: Mature (Graphic Depictions of Violence)

Fandoms: Fusion of the How to Train Your Dragon books and animated franchise

Additional Tags: jaded protagonist, modern day AU, moving somewhere new, fitting in, making friends, additional DreamWorks characters, back to hometown

Summary: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III has lived nearly seventeen years of life. In the span of those years, he’s moved twelve times. Five of those years his mother was alive. Then a tragic accident left Hiccup in the sole care of his father, Stoick Haddock. Berk was where he had been born. That much he knew.  Over every, single, move his father put him through, it wasn’t until he reached sixteen years old that Berk was the city in which the father finally decided to plant roots. At least, that was what he claimed. After years of being victimized at each school he attended, Hiccup was determined to keep a low profile at Berk High. His past is intent on preying upon him, deciding that Berk was perfect place to come back into the light. However, like all good things that came to him, there was always something to drag him back down into the pit of despair. A dormant secret, tied into his family history, was ultimately brought into the light when Hiccup settles on Berk. A secret tied with guilt and tears, and it all goes downhill from there. He discovered what his father truly did those long stretch of years, and finds he has a gift that had been nonexistent for centuries.

Ch. 12: Sleep and School Do Not Mix

Friday signified the end of the week. In Hiccup's life, it meant that he would be able to work on the conversion of the bedroom into an art studio. All he had to do was get through the school day. He had made sure to walk in to his second period only a minute before the final bell, because he wanted to avoid Dustin at all costs. He had no doubt that the senior still carried resentment for what had happened six years ago and didn't want to see what he was now capable of. By the third period he was practically falling asleep at his desk.

Catching up on the notes for three separate classes was making him lose two hours of sleep a night. Back on Meathead he had worked himself into a schedule where he would walk the 1.6 kilometers to his home and indulge in all the homework he could and be asleep by ten at night. He hardly ever went out, not even for coffee, but there was always a pot full of it when he was home. He left it full in the morning and merely reheated it once he came back home. He had done the grocery shopping, he handled the laundry loads, his father would handle any home repairs.

He couldn't join a sport, because his leg couldn't quite take all the strain. All sports involved running, and any prolonged periods would leave his stump aching and feeling as if he could tear open the skin with any more effort. Here at Berk High, there weren't even that many sports to choose from. There were more clubs than sports, but the twins hadn't listed all of the clubs in their 'surviving high school' guidebook. Only the ones that they could make fun of and that had members that were easy to prank. He made sure to steer clear of those.

He felt his head starting to droop, his eyelids starting to close. Berk had really disrupted his sleep schedule. He had almost never fallen asleep in class. He managed to write down another example before his head finally sagged onto the desk. He refused to let his eyes close all the way, but his thoughts continued to swirl about his head, trying to bring him to succumb to slumber.  Just wait until nighttime, just do a single page and you can sleep early...  He forced his head to lift from the desk, and he wrote down a few more words before his eyes closed.

His father had decided to give him an allowance. Hiccup had never brought it up, not once during any of their eleven moves. 30 decans a week, he could hardly believe it. Instead of Hiccup asking his father for money, back on the other islands he had refused to accept money from his father. Berk made it different. Before Hiccup had gone to bed on Sunday night his father had stopped the door from closing and pressed the bills into his son's hand. He said that he wouldn't take any argument and that the money was his to keep. Over dinner the next few days his father had told him that he wanted him to stay out more, and use the decans he had given him. This was his hometown, he shouldn't stay holed up at home like he had on the mainland.

It was because he had received the money that Hiccup had asked Astrid to help him find a coffee shop. He knew that his father would begin to ask, and to relieve any oncoming pressure he decided that finding a coffee shop would be an ideal way of spending the money he had. Though Hiccup knew that his father was getting quite desperate for him to make friends. He was very diligent about saving his money, because they hadn't visited relatives for the past few years, they would send him money through mail. He remembered one time when he had a phone call with Gobber he had commented on why Hiccup didn't accept his father's money, and Hiccup had responded by saying-

"Hiccup! Are you still with us?" Ms. Sinkt's voice raided his ears.

He opened his eyes and quickly whipped his head off the table, nodding his head vigorously. He glanced at the others students, noting that one already had their arms wrapped around their head and was fast asleep. He didn't care to comment, instead he rubbed at his eyes to rid the drowsiness.  It was Friday , the fact had barely dawned on him, he could sleep in for Saturday morning. Ms. Sinkt cast him a few more questioning looks before turning and once again pressing her blue marker to the board. Needless to say, he stayed awake for the remaining 26 minutes of class.

Keep reading

[mercurygray]

It turns out when you reblog things late at night, like sketches of mermaids, you get nice messages in your inbox like this one:

@junojelli Because I am a terrible enabler of AUs, Joan as a mermaid of Zell Lake *runs away*

How much damage can Merc do on this prompt with two uninterrupted hours of time? A lot, it turns out.

A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown.

- William Butler Yeats

The locals say there are mermaids in the lake.

Have been for centuries - it used to be quite a tourist attraction in the seventeen-hundreds, coming to see the mermaids of Zell am See. It was part of the grand tour, almost like the haunted castles of France and the vampyrs of Romania and buying art in Italy. Very fashionable, to come and sketch them, or write poetry about them, or, better still, start an affair, which was extremely en vogue for a little while. There's probably a great deal of very nice jewelry at the bottom of that lake - but then, no one's tried to dive for it.

Mermaids, they say, can be very possessive.

But then the Enlightenment happened, and the Scientific Revolution after that, and several other revolutions meant there wasn't quite as much ready money for long, protracted trips through Europe for the idle rich, and a deal fewer idle rich to take them, and these sorts of quaint customs sort of fell out of fashion. It had been temporarily revived for a bit in the late 1870s by the arrival of the Americans, who, in their usual way, gave it new life by changing it and making it a thing for young women rather than young men, to go to the mountain lake at Zell am See as a stop on their own Grand Tours, the headstrong Buccaneers ready to trade American cold hard cash and good looks for European panache and husbands with titles.

That was the first American incursion into Austria. This, however, is the second, and it comes not in a four-in-hand coach but a four-wheel drive truck.

Magical creatures aren't totally new news to the Americans - there are all kinds of magical sorts floating around the greater 48. Winters reads the security memorandum from the Battalion S2 who's replaced Nixon, shakes his head, and passes the word down to Lieutenant Lipton: "Don't let Malarkey go near the lake."

That's the fear they have, the stories they've all been raised on, of the sirens who would have dragged Ulysses down to the depths of the sea with their songs. Their long wandering through this war is almost over - they're almost home! Be a shame to survive the damn war and lose their men to mermaids. Malarkey's been a man on the edge since Bastogne, for good reasons, and of all the men under his command, Dick Winters is afraid particularly that once happy-go-lucky Don from Astoria, Oregon, will hear something in that lake that will keep him underneath forever.

He's right - but not in the way he thinks.

One morning, Don is down by the lake sitting on the pier, and in the water next to him, bold as brass, is a lovely looking lady with dark hair, winsome eyes, and a tail like the better class of rainbow trout, dappled and flashing. And they're just...talking. She doesn't seem particularly interested in dragging anyone under the lake - but she is drinking in the story of Don's war.

(The mermaids, it turns out, speak excellent English - all those tourist Buccaneers and their maiden aunts! Sounds a little like your grandmother, but it works.)

Lipton observes for a while and decides to leave the man there. By dinnertime, Don comes back in looking like a changed man - there's an actual spring in his step. That's the magic of the mermaids of Zell Am See - they'll steal your cares away in the best way possible.

After Malarkey's surprising discovery, it's hard to keep the men away from the lake. There are a few familiar faces now, though none of them are bold enough to leave a name. (The locals say that's expected. If you know a mermaid's name, you could compel her to leave the lake.) And here, on the side of a lake in Austria, Easy Company slowly processes their war. Lewis spends a lot of time talking with Malarkey's mermaid, whom they are calling Eileen after a girl Malarkey went to school with. Dick privately thinks that this is a good thing - Lewis is processing a lot more than just his war.

When Dick finally goes down to the lake, it's not to talk. He goes early in the morning, just after the sun comes up. He's tired of running and calisthenics. He wants to swim, and the usual suspects are not at the pier yet. (Sometimes they're out early in the morning like seals in the zoo, doing each others' hair and giggling in the way girls everywhere do when they're assembled in large groups.)

Good. That's the point of this exercise - he wants to be alone.

The water is crisp and refreshing, and so, so needed. Dick Winters hasn't done anything for himself - really for himself - for months now, and this is probably the first real treat he's given himself since ordering in all that ice cream a few weeks ago.

He's all the way out in the deep part of the lake when he realizes he's picked up a training partner.

She's following him - at a respectful distance, mind you - just...watching. Is she afraid he's going to drown? (The mermaids are protective, not possessive - it's different. Wouldn't let you drown in the lake unless they thought you deserved it.) But there's a competitive streak in Dick Winters, and he decides, just for fun, to pick up his pace.

She matches him.

They are nearly at the other side of the lake when he stops, treading water, his heart pounding, regretting his decision to try and race a woman who's literally half-fish, and then, suddenly, she is sailing up over him like a dolphin. (None of the others have ever done this.) Show-off, thinks one part of his brain. The other part watches in silent, smiling wonder. It hadn't really clicked with any of the others before - the mermaids are beautiful. Or at least, this one is.

Up, up, up, she goes, body arching and glistening in the sun, spangling the air with water, and then dives out of sight. Did he scare her off? Offend her?

Then she's back, bobbing in the water a few feet away. "Aren't we going to finish the race?" she asks, smiling.

"A guy should know when he's beat," he manages with a smile. "You win."

"Usually men don't make it this far out," she says. "It's impressive." She's the type who isn't usually impressed, he can tell. They've all got personalities, and now that they're talking, he recognizes her - she's not usually out with the others. Lewis has talked with her a couple of times - she's the one who makes him laugh. Lewis calls her Duchess - she's got a sort of high society feeling and she seems to be nominally in charge.

He's still trying to catch his breath - and the shore is so incredibly far. "Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to make it back."

Her eyes light up a little. "Ask me nicely," she says. Ask you for what? he wonders, his body exploring possibilities it wasn't exploring ten minutes ago. (She notices, of course, and laughs.)

In the end, she takes his hands and tows him. "Hold your breath - and squeeze my hand if you need to stop."

It feels like flying. One minute they're at rest, and the next they're charging through the water, her tail pumping powerfully, her hands still locked around his wrists. This would be how she drowns a man, to take him down to where he couldn't breathe, but they're only a foot or two beneath the surface. He's reminded, oddly enough, of parachuting, the rush of air along his face, the adrenaline. He looks at her, muscles straining in the clear water, strong as anything, smiling and laughing for the sheer joy of being alive.

Oh, yeah, he's a goner.

Slowly word gets around that anyone up at the crack of dawn can see Winters and his new friend taking an early morning swim together. Good for him, the feeling is. That man needs something for himself.

(Certain parties who've also been up at the crack of dawn may have also been treated to the sight of Major and the mermaid, embracing on the tiny spit of beach near the hotel. Lew asks him about it one afternoon and, strangely, Dick doesn't blush about it.)

[ganymedesclock]

Ghirahim and gendered expectations of sensuality

So, as people who’ve seen my previous Zelda posts might gather, I have a mixed relationship with Skyward Sword. On the one hand, I think many of its characters have tremendous potential. On the other, I feel like the game largely did not live up to that potential, and in some areas, it feels rather deliberate. But suffice to say, elements of Skyward Sword have meant that certain characters- Batreaux, Groose, Fi, and Ghirahim are not far from my mind.

A brief primer, for those who might be unfamiliar: Ghirahim is the main antagonist of Skyward Sword, and a bit of an aberration in the common Zelda formula, which tends to introduce a ���decoy’ or “lieutenant” antagonist who dominates for most of the game and then bows out towards the end as the prelude to the true final boss- usually Ganondorf, in Skyward Sword’s case, it’s the demon god and a figure we are clearly supposed to scan as Ganondorf’s divine progenitor, Demise.

Ghirahim is quite openly a harbinger of, and servant to, Demise- where he breaks script is by being extremely proactive. We run into Ghirahim in most dungeons in the game, where he is not waiting idly for us, but doing actions that veteran Zelda players might recognize as comparable to Link’s: he breaks into dungeons either chasing Zelda, or chasing information that will allow him to proceed. We also have not one but three different fights with him, personally, and several other times he concedes that he doesn’t have time to play with Link and instead sics a boss monster on him.

The other thing about Ghirahim is, I will outright say it: He is written as a caricature of a predatory queer man.

He’s shown to be literally bloodthirsty, and presented by the narrative ostensibly as someone who has a sinister, perverse interest in both Link and Zelda, a contrast to their saintly, chaste union (which is supposed to read as a union; pursue a romantic sideplot with Peatrice, another girl in the game, and Fi will pretty much openly admonish you for cheating on Zelda, saying that Zelda wouldn’t be happy to know Link’s seeing someone and that Link should know that)

This is, really, a bit jarring, when Ghirahim’s actual dialogue suggests that he has very little interest in Link and views him much like a butler tending the master’s house while the latter is away might view a feral golden retriever that’s running loose in the place and getting mud on everything. His emotional range runs from warmly patronizing to exasperated to a truly dangerous degree (since, in this metaphor, the butler has also been tending the master’s house in near-total isolation for something like several centuries not having real conversations with the other servants and nobody’s at their psychological best in those situations even if they weren’t implicitly born and raised to murder).

Basically: that Ghirahim has no real interest in Link- not his body or appearance or anything. In his own dialogue, he seems confused by the idea that he’s at all interested, is apologetic that he’s wasting his time or dawdling and in his final scene, offers a genuinely flummoxed “you... who are you?” He offers colorful, violent threats, but when Link obstinately faces him again, he’s shown to be almost embarrassed and disgusted by them, and tries something else that almost no Zelda antagonist does: on multiple occasions, he tells Link to just walk away from the situation with what appears to be every intent of letting him go.

Ghirahim does not want Link for himself. He seems to, begrudgingly, against his own intentions, value Link as someone to fight against, but this connection does not actualize within the story- they are not really rivals. He isn’t even that deeply fond of the idea of Link’s blood, though he’s a proponent of blood as a vague concept.

Now, I like Ghirahim. I don’t think that even the read of Ghirahim as a queer man is a terrible one. But it definitely is interesting the lens in which Ghirahim’s implicit sensuality is cast. Basically, he is depicted as creeping on Link, without any real sense that he wants Link. Because it isn’t about what he wants- it’s about that implicitly he has a sexuality, and the idea of a man who might be attracted to other men is threatening, evil, and scary. Ghirahim wasn’t made queer-coded for representation’s sake. He was queer-coded to suggest he was depraved and motivated by a sinister lust. And the cruelty of this depiction is I think made immediately clear by- Ghirahim’s actual interests, passion, or preferences do not factor in here. That Scene Where Ghirahim Does The Tongue Thing is about how it is expected to make the player feel, and how implicitly Link feels.

What is Ghirahim’s type? Does he consider Demise beautiful? He makes it pretty clear he considers Link a brat. These are questions that aren’t asked, because it’s wrong that Ghirahim seems to have any sexuality at all- and, since Link is our lens and our guidepost for how we’re supposed to feel about characters, if Ghirahim behaves in a sensual manner it happens to Link, and to Zelda, invasively. Even though it is shown he feels no desire for any of these people, so that sensuality basically comes across like the game is firmly expecting us to find the idea of even an e-rated sensual male antagonist repulsive.

This led me down a very odd sort of rabbit trail.

Because Ghirahim- a bit indirectly- is inspired off a figure skater.

Specifically, Fi’s design was stated to evoke a figure skater, and we even see her ‘skating’ in several of the cutscenes. Ghirahim’s design matches Fi’s quite strongly; they were designed to be two of a kind.

I am not, myself, a figure skating buff, but a while ago, I happened across youtube videos of a skater named Johnny Weir. 

Quickly, you can see the sword spirits’ inspirations; the close-fitting leotards, the lithe, acrobatic capabilities.

But here’s the thing about Johnny Weir: this is a guy putting on a sensual performance that is not a gross-out, a joke, or a threat. It’s basically impossible to find nothing suggestive in his choice of backup movement or the movements he makes running his hands along his body- his costume even asserts these more with the mirrored details on his gloves. This is a dude, acting in a way you could say is objectively sensual even if it may or may not stir every viewer given the individual nature of preference.

But there’s a world of difference to Weir’s performance. Not just that this is a voluntary choice made by a real person, while Ghirahim’s choices, even if they have in-game logic, are largely about Link and about the player- but Johnny Weir is having fun. He has a charming energy to him and is performing to a song he loves.

Watching Johnny Weir, it occurred to me, that regardless of Weir’s own orientation- that I do not know and will not speculate on- there’s a preconception around “being sexy”. Women are seen as supposed to be sexy (but, in many circles, not too sexy. Can’t insinuate they know what they’re doing, or have opinions and tastes...), or, more, “sexy is seen as a job that women do for men specifically.”

So, to homophobic audiences... a man deliberately enacting a sensual performance- a sense of what sensual looks like from a dude- is seen as weird, wild, and out there. If you’re not shocked by the implications that Ghirahim may be attracted to men, may be into Link, may be into the idea of torturing Link- then a certain amount of his writing kind of falls apart. 

And comparing the way Ghirahim is animated and shot to Johnny Weir’s performance, it’s kind of... weak? Like, at one point in Weir’s routine, he lifts one leg and slides his fingertips down it in a smooth stroke from knee to thigh. It’s a steamy looking move, and this coming from someone who is so prodigiously ace I thought sexual attraction was made up for the first seventeen years of my life.

Ghirahim does not do that. He’s got thigh cutouts in his very close-fitting outfit, and has lines in his second fight about his body and how beautiful it is, but he does not make these movements that deliberately catch and draw the eye along the planes of him.

To me, I feel like besides this being a general affront against real queer people- the Zelda games have a concerning habit of depicting “eccentric, effeminate” men as either neutral characters or open villains and virtually always with this air of being the brunt of a joke (it’s very hard to imagine ALBW’s Yuga was designed by someone who earnestly loved this character)- it is also a bit rude to the character of Ghirahim himself.

Because Ghirahim, at the end of the day, is someone who ends the story heartbroken literally and figuratively. The entire game, he is driven by loyalty to Demise. He does not care who he hurts or threatens- and this comes back to the seeming implication that he is somewhat bloodthirsty, but vastly plays up his appetite for torture. When he thinks his goal is out of reach, he continues slogging away at it anyway, but listlessly. Everything he does, is for Demise. He is devoted enough to, late in the game, throw himself on Link’s sword for the third boss fight purely to stall for time until Demise revives.

Demise does not speak to Ghirahim, or acknowledge him, or even seemingly notice or care that by the time he comes back, Ghirahim’s metal heart has been torn open by being repeatedly stabbed by Link. (third boss fight is not kind.) Instead, he rips Ghirahim’s sword form out of his chest.

Ghirahim is a danger to Link, Impa, and Zelda, because he attacks them, and his own subordinates, because he threatens them. But to his master, he’s just a disposable pawn. This is a character driven by passion such that many of his poses and scenes show him nearly breaking into an actor’s soliloquy as he explains something to Link- and this is one way he does seem to like having Link around: he craves an audience.

And his passion is, in two ways, depicted as completely futile. First, in the dubious amount of oo scary gay man, watch out Link, he’s doing something weird with his tongue- and second and far more seriously, that everything he works for leaves him with nothing because his life never mattered for a second in the eyes of the person he lives and dies for.

Ghirahim is made a sensual character, but in a manner that feels bad faith- that feels like it has not thought about male sensuality in any direction besides “that’s wrong and icky, so we’ll attach it to our villain, who we want to be wrong and icky, and absolutely not suggest there’s anything particularly sad about what happens to him. His fault for being wrong and icky.”

[fear-before-valor]

💫

(Thank you again for your help with the trollish, by the way!!)

--

Tranz by Gorillaz

When you get back on Saturday night And your head is caving in Do you look like me, do you feel like me Do you turn into your effigy?

Jim stared into his bathroom mirror, where a crack remained that had never been repaired. He traced over his own doing with a very human fingertip, though he’d made the crack with, at the time, stone hands, instead of the warm ones that he was peering at now. The crack had split the mirror down the middle, and spiderwebbed into smaller offshoots that weren’t quite enough to completely distort his reflection; they were only just enough to make something look Not Right. Though, to be fair to the mirror, every time Jim had seen himself since even as far back as Eternal Night— and really, was that even that long ago? Or did it only feel that way?— something had felt Not Right. Capital N, capital R, Not Right. He’d seen it in everyone’s faces; in the brave way his mother had tried to hide her fear and worry behind support, but he could tell. He’d always been able to tell, with her. And Toby. And Blinky, after a while. He’d seen the worried faces of his family who tried to be strong for him, like he tried to be strong for them. But no amount of strength could hide when something uncontrolled in their faces blanched for just a moment, when they’d looked at him, just for a split second too late for them to cover it up.

It was one thing he definitely didn’t miss, from his time as a troll.

He wasn’t sure he even could say he missed it at all, though, if he was being honest. He’d never really asked for the form; only accepted it because it was what had been expected of him.

He supposed, if he did miss anything from it, though, he missed how utterly invincible he’d felt.

…Well.

Until he hadn’t anymore, when he was stabbed through his armor—through his heart—and suddenly he hadn’t felt so helpless in his life, as his own mind had turned traitor.

Jim never thought he’d approach anything like the singular sensation of even seeing his own effigy. Though, to be fair, he still hadn’t.

He hadn’t seen his own effigy.

He’d become it.

Do you dance like this? Forever

He could feel stone crumbling, as he met his own eyes in the mirror; he could feel his own skin crumbling, as his terror stared at him back. He could feel his own body crumbling— I’m dying…! He’d thought. I’m dying and Claire has to watch—

and then he felt the soft vibration of his phone at his hip. Three quick buzzes, a pause between them, three more buzzes, a pause between them, three more, and a pause, and Jim almost missed the green ‘accept’ button.

He raised his phone to his ear, forgetting to look at who it was.

“Jim? Where are you? My mom is demanding pictures, and my dad can only stall for so long!”

Claire.

When Jim opened his mouth to answer back, he was surprised to feel a smile stretched over his lips— he hadn’t even known he’d started to do that. He was quiet for a moment, just smiling, listening to the muffled commotion of Ophelia Nuñez nigh on a warpath, and her husband who had the distinct sound of a father trying to quiet a rambunctious toddler, while also attempting to have a civil conversation with his wife, all at the same time.

And it struck Jim.

It was so normal. So, incredibly normal. Even hearing NotEnrique chime in once in a while, sounding remarkably delighted by the chaos, was so blessedly normal, that Jim’s smile threatened to turn into a beam.

Claire had apparently gotten worried at his lack of response, however, and said, uncertainly, “…Jim? Are you there?”

He snapped back to the present. “Oh. Hey, Claire. Sorry; uh, I was having trouble fixing my—” he’d meant to decide if he was going to say his tie, or his hair, but instead it came out as, “Hairtie. I mean—”

Claire cut him off, a soft giggle chiming through his phone speaker, which set his heart spiraling. “Your hairtie, huh? Well, hurry up beauty queen, or we’re going to be late. You know between my mom and yours, we’re going to take centuries to be done with photos, and that’s not even taking into account when we meet up with Toby and the others, and their parents. It’s gonna be a brigade of parents, Jim!”

Jim chuckled, supposing that he wasn’t quite as unhappy about that as he perhaps should be. “Okay, okay. I’m on my way.” He said, and after a hushed ‘I love you,’ from Claire— who would never live it down if she was caught saying such a thing at seventeen— and a sickeningly sweet ‘I love you’ from himself in return, Jim hung up the phone, and slipped it back into his slacks pocket.

In his defense, he really had been trying to fix his hair, before he’d had his… episode. Now, he stared at it, and decided it was a hopeless cause due to the sheer amount of ruffles it would get from his mom alone, and so reached to grab his suit coat, instead. Pulling it on, he exited the bathroom, and just as he was about to slide down the railing, a hand caught him by the back of his collar.

“Now, Young Atlas, I do hope you were decidedly not going to risk ruining your dress pants on our banister?”

Jim groaned, rolling his eyes in an extremely over-exaggerated way, making sure Strickler saw. “I was gonna be careful!”

Strickler only looked amused, “I’m sure. But why don’t we take the stairs like civilized people, just in case?” He wrapped a gentle arm around Jim’s shoulders, guiding them both down the stairs together.

Barbara was at the bottom, dressed casually, for once— there had been no ifs ands or buts; she had the night off, and wasn’t on call unless the world ended. Of course, given Arcadia’s track record, that could have been an unfortunately high chance, but then again, it felt like even evil was taking a backseat that day. It seemed that that day was the first day they’d had in ages where no one wanted to destroy the world. Not even a continent.

And it was divine.

The sun was hanging lazily in the sky, golden light filtering harmlessly through their blinds, though Strickler was, of course, careful, regardless. He’d agreed to stay with the children until Barbara got back, but stood in the foyer as a mother stared at her son— looking so scarily like an adult— and watched with a smile, as she embraced the boy, trying to hide her misting eyes.

Barbara pulled back after a moment, and despite her valiant effort, hadn’t successfully stopped her tears from spilling, so as she pulled away from Jim, she wiped at her eyes under her glasses. Jim’s face softened, as he reached up to put a hand on her cheek, “Aw, mom, hey—”

“You just look so grown up, Jim.” She cut him off, going in for a second hug. He laughed, and hugged her again, and they held it, for longer this time.

After a moment too long, Jim opened his eyes to glance at Strickler, and shot him a look that screamed help me. Jim wasn’t sure he’d be able to get his mom to let go by himself. Then again, this, too, did not bother him much.

Seeing Jim’s face, however, Walt chuckled and moved to place a comforting hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “Come, now, tarn, you must get going. You two have a picture date to attend, after all.”

Barbara finally pulled back enough to give a wet laugh, saying, “I’m glad you made me get waterproof mascara.” She smiled fondly at Walter, “It’s going to come in handy, if this is only beginning.”

The beginning of many more events to come, she meant. Jim was a senior this year, and graduation was approaching far quicker than any of them were ready for.

“I’m going to go get a few more tissues, actually.” She realized, and turned to dart back into the living room, to secretly tuck the whole box into her purse. She wouldn’t be the only one who needed them, after all.

As she left Walter and Jim alone, the former teacher reached to clasp Jim’s shoulder, to get his attention, and to hold him in some way. The boy was good at hiding it, but Strickler hadn’t missed the slight shaking of his hands, which he’d tried to hide, as he’d buried them into his coat pockets, post-hug. Walt gave Jim a gentle, reassuring smile, “Jim. How do you feel?”

The boy futzed for a moment, glancing into the living room, and then back to Strickler— there was a flash of a memory, when the two of them had been watching for Barbara in a much different way— and then he shook his head, smiling—a real smile, genuine. He spoke the truth when he said, “I’m fine, actually. Just nervous. I’m bad at dancing.”

Walter gave a gentle, kind laugh, “I believe you ought not worry, Young Atlas. Were Claire to break up with you over your dancing, I fear there would be a much larger issue at play.”

Jim’s eyes went wide at the implication, and Strickler realized the poor timing of the joke. “Ah, but… you needn’t worry. The world will not end because our trollhunter has two left feet. Claire loves you, Jim. You will be quite alright, I believe.”

Jim fidgeted for a moment, looking as if he was trying to make up his mind on something.

And then Barbara rejoined them, giving Walt a quick kiss on the cheek, interrupting whatever Jim had been about to say. She slung her purse over her shoulder, and reached to place a hand on Jim’s back. “Let’s go, honey. Can’t keep Claire waiting too long, eh, Romeo?” She teased.

Jim rolled his eyes, but grinned, “Yeah, yeah.” He turned to the door, but then halted, and looked over to her, as if he’d just remembered something. “Hey, Mom? Why don’t you go get the car started? I think I left mine and Claire’s tickets upstairs.”

Barbara looked at him to joke that that was, of course, important, but as she turned, she caught the smallest glimpse of the corner of the tickets already sticking out of Jim’s coat pockets. She glanced from Jim to Walter, who gave her a nod. Ah.

She pretended to be none-the-wiser, as she walked over to hug Walter. He was surprised, but accepted it, and as she held on, she whispered, “Thank you, my love.”

He murmured, “Of course, von swin dwoyem eks klokarp.”

Barbara gave a soft laugh. “One day I’ll get you to tell me what that means.”

“Not a chance.” He winked, as she let go, and properly exited the house.

Jim had averted his eyes throughout the exchange, embarrassed. No matter how long he lived with them, it would still always be a little awkward to see the two of them like that.

He looked back up when the front door clicked shut.

It was a split-second, the silence hanging in the air between them. And then Jim surged forward, and wrapped his arms around Strickler’s neck, having to get up on his tiptoes to do so, even for his stature. He held on only just long enough for Walt to loosely wrap his arms around Jim in return. They stayed for a moment, and then Jim pulled back, standing awkwardly, as if he’d surprised himself.

Strickler opened his mouth to speak, but Jim took that moment to cut him off, blurt, “Thank you,” and make a beeline for the door.

Walt let him go. When the front door shut again, he smiled to himself.

Do you dance like this? Forever

That night, three very not-normal teenagers engaged in one of the most normal rituals of high school that any of them had gotten to do, thus far—Senior Prom. They filled their phone storage with pictures, screamed their voices hoarse, abandoned shoes, ties, coats, danced themselves breathless, wheezed when they had not the breath to laugh at that very same dancing, collapsed on each other in a giggling heap on the floor when they rested for only a moment—they had to soak up everything; they couldn’t waste time sitting!— and stole far too much food from the snack table. They saw friends, old and new, teased each other, or professed love, declared themselves best friends, and decided to abandon their plans for the future. They didn’t need them. For one, incredible night— for one, normal night, they danced, frozen in forever.

For one beautiful night, Jim danced, hand-in-hand in a three-pronged circle with his two best friends in the world, and after two long, long years… Nothing was wrong. It was perfect.

[deans-mind-palace]

Suspirium (Pt.4)

Pairing: Prof!Sam x Reader

Summary: You’re in your last year of your Classics and Mordern Languages studies and you’re majoring in Latin and English. Then you get assigned to a different Latin teacher. And damn, he loves his subject. Too bad that he’s also hot. What is just a childish crush soon develops into something way more complicated.

Word Count: 1,891

Warnings: Latin & Slowburn

Author’s Note: A lot of Latin and Catullus but I wanted you to show Prof Sam’s lectures and the reader’s life besides university. And there’s a surprise at the end. Enjoy.

Suspirium - Masterlist

You slammed your locker shut and hurriedly stuffed the white blouse into the waistband of the black skirt, when the door to the changing room had already been opened. You stood up straight immediately. Chest out and stomach in. You took a deep breath and tried to appear confident, while you were getting ready for a reprimand. A man in a black tuxedo came rushing through the door. "Y/N! Where the hell were you?" The man was a little fatter and his head was all red. His expression was ugly and distorted and he was dabbing the sweat off his forehead with a white cloth from the pocket of his jacket. "François. I am sorry. I really am. I-I lost track of time!" you tried to explain yourself. Your self-confidence was gone. "What is this, Y/N? You work in a star restaurant. I expect discipline. I'm trying to rely on you. Tonight is a night with important guests and I need you. We're behind schedule. The reputation of the restaurant -" the man with the French accent complained. But you already finished his sentence. "depends on each one of us. A grain of sand in the clockwork will stop the whole movement. I know." You knew that speech by heart. Normally you would have taken that motto to heart, but... "Mon dieu." He brushed across his moustache and massaged his temples while his anger subsided. "We'll talk about it later. I need you now. The kitchen is a mess because the food is not being served quickly enough." He pushed the door open and you followed him out into the hall and into the kitchen. There were all kinds of steaming from different pots. Jacques waved a frying pan in which he was flambéing something and blurted orders around. A kitchen boy pushed some plates into your hand in a frightened way. His eyes were wide open and he didn't seem to be used to the harsh tone that prevailed in the kitchen.

He had red hair and countless freckles adorned his face. The plates swayed in his hand and his arms trembled under the weight. You gave him a sympathetic smile and took the plates away. "The roast beef with sesame crust on mango chutney and the sea urchin cores with green asparagus to seventeen. Hop hop!" François directed you out the door and into the dining room. Immediately, the soft murmuring of the guests, the clinking sound of wine glasses being clinked together, the clattering of cutlery on dishes and the gentle tones of the piano floated through the air. With calm and firm steps you brought the food to the white-laid table and set it down in front of a couple wearing chic evening gowns, as is obligatory in this expensive restaurant. With a professional but reserved smile, you silently handed the food as you had learned it, and with an elegant gesture of your hand you poured some water.

It was shortly after one o'clock when, after almost seven hours, you stuffed your skirt into your locker and slipped into your jeans. In one flowing movement you brushed the hair out of your forehead and took a deep breath. Your body ached from a hard day, your head was buzzing and you longed for your bed. Tomorrow you already had a lecture at 9am.

In a hurry you took a look at your mobile phone. You could hear the clinking of plates, which had been washed and dipped into the sink, sounding muffled from the kitchen. Brooks had written to you a few minutes ago. He knew your working schedule by heart and knew that you had just finished. Actually, you were too tired and didn't feel like talking to your best friend on the phone, but you knew the longer you delayed the call, the worse it would get.

Quickly you dialed his number. After the ringing tone he answered immediately. "Hey, Brooks." You had trouble suppressing a hearty yawn. There was not a hint of fatigue in Brooks' voice. "Y/N, what secret are you keeping from me?" he demanded amusedly. Your friend was a man who came straight to the point. You should be fine.

"How was your first lecture with Professor Winchester?" Brooks asked. It took your tired brain a moment to realize that he meant Sam. "The typical introduction. Sam seems nice." You were biting your tongue when his first name left your lips. Brooks, of course, noticed this little detail right away. "Sam, huh?" repeated his name with a smirk, almost as if he had to test it on his tongue first. "Did he offer you his first name because he is so young himself?" the man on the other end of the line asked curiously. This time you couldn't suppress the yawn. "Hmm, exactly." You told Brooks everything he wanted to know about the lecture. After a while, he settled for the information and decided to let you go to bed. The last night bus spat you up a block from your stop and you were glad when you fell into your cuddly bed and could pull the fluffy blanket up to your chin.

The auditorium was already filled with students talking wildly, but Sam hadn't appeared when you sat down. The day before yesterday, right after the first lecture, you had gone to the university bookstore and got the materials he requested. You put Latin for the Illiterati, a dictionary and a small book of poems by Catullus on the table. Your pens and your notebook followed. All heads turned to the door as Professor Winchester entered the room and walked forward with long, determined strides past the filled rows of seats. The red sweater stretched across his sturdy stature and a grey jacket hung over his shoulder. There was silence in the lecture hall as Sam prepared his lecture.

He cleared his throat, which was completely unnecessary as he already had all the attention on him anyway. His gaze glided briefly to you and you gave him a smile. He winked at you in a friendly way before his gaze wandered over the rest of the students. "We will begin today with Catullus." he began today's lecture. Your fellow students listened to him eagerly.

"Who can tell me something about Catullus as a person?" he asked. Immediately your hand shot up. But he called a student a few rows behind you. "Gaius Valerius Catullus was a Roman poet from Verona. He was probably born in the first century B.C. He aspired a political career at first, but he was not satisfied with the opinions of the triumvirate consisting of Caesar, Pompeius and Cato, so he began to write insulting poems about the three great men of Rome." Sam raised his hand and the student stopped his monologue. He cleared his throat again and walked up and down in front of the first row. "Who can tell me when Catullus died?" he asked the next question. Again your hand shot into the air. But again he did not call you. "Whatever dates you wish to give me, ladies and gentlemen, I doubt very much they are correct." You lowered your hand and listened carefully. "For the fact is, we know almost nothing about Catullus' life. We can only make guesses. So who can tell me about Catullus?" He raised his hands in invitation.

"Come on. Call in your answers, don't be shy, pretend we're in the ancient senate of Rome. Do you think it was organized that way? Come on, let me hear you." Your fellow students looked at each other in surprise. For a moment there was hesitation in the air, then they started calling in. "He wrote a life's work of 116 poems." "Catullus admired Sappho." "Exactly. And his best friend was Nepos." "He was also one of the Neotericists." "Not to mention that he died when he was 30. Circumstances unknown." "Nonsense. He died of lovesickness." Sam just nodded, but that sentence made him stop and listen. He lowered his hand, a simple gesture, and the confused cries ebbed away, almost as if he was the fixed star of the lecture hall. He was the sun in your star system and you were just meaningless planets circling around him and drawn to him by higher powers like moths to light.

His gaze wandered over the students, who waited attentively for his next words. He took the thin volume of poetry from the desk and held it in the air. "As mentioned earlier, Catullus wrote 116 carmina." He paused and looked at the book. "Page 38, carmina 85, please." Immediately, the rustling of book pages could be heard. At that unobserved moment, he glanced at you. His hazel eyes pierced yours.

He averted his gaze and raised his voice. Like a Roman rhetorician, he stuck out his chest and began to read the poem with perfect accent. For a moment you thought you were standing on the Forum Romanorum listening to the Roman messenger telling about Caesar's victories.

"Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris. Nescio. Sed fieri sentio et excrucior."

Sam looked up. "Who can translate this for me, please?" Again you raised your hand and this time he noticed. "Ms. L/N. Please do us the honor." "I hate and I love. Wherefore would I do this, perhaps you ask? I do not know. But I feel that it happens and I am tortured." you translated the ancient words fluently. "What do you feel when you read these words?" Sam asked and his eyes were only on you. It felt like for a moment there was just the two of you in this room. The other students around you disappeared. "Pain, unrequited love, despair but also anger," you replied. "Why did he write this?" You took a deep breath. This was your specialty. Now you had the chance to prove yourself. "Most of Catullus' poems are about his love for Lesbia, a married woman with whom he had an affair. The name Lesbia is only a synonym. There are speculations that the beloved is the elder Clodia. She was the wife of a consul. Even though they loved each other, Catullus was not sure of her love. He was torn apart by her failure to return his love unconditionally."

I heard whispers behind me. "Her name was Lesbia! You can see by her name that it was never going to happen." You rolled your eyes, and Sam snorted in amusement. "Well, Mr...?" "Winter, sir." the student helped him. "Mr. Winter. You're not wrong. Homosexuality was not uncommon among the Romans. It was frowned upon, but nobody really cared. Especially the patricians could do what they wanted. But I think that's not true in this case." Sam smiled before he talked to everybody. "Now, I want you all to analyze this poem as homework. Are there any hidden messages? Innuendoes? Stylistic devices? I want to know everything. I want the papers on my desk next week. Good? Then you're dismissed for today."

Sam was standing at your level and you were about to pack when a little note landed on your desk. 4:00pm. My office. S. Surprised, you looked up, but you only caught a glimpse of Sam's fluttering jacket as he disappeared from the lecture hall.

Tags beneath cut. Wanna get tagged? Drop an ask or comment in or add yourself to the Sam taglist with the link in my bio.

Sam Tags: @ashthefirefox​ @rintheemolion​​ @fortheentries​​ @vexhye​​ @traceyaudette​​ @zeppette​​ @thewintersoldierswife​​ @outofnowhere82​​

[ruensroad]

warm me up (I’m far too cold)

Wanted a challenge and @this-solaris-life delivered! New Jinyi AU based on the enemies-to-lover’s troupe, as well as jealousy. Also tossed in arranged marriage, because it’s me.

Inspired by the book Hawksong, by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes.

Translation key: Shé - serpent shifter. Bào - snow leopard shifter. Lù - deer shifter. Tùzĭ - rabbit shifter. Zhangfu - husband. 

---

Jingyi hadn’t felt this terrible since the war. Black, coiling cold in his chest; a simmering, helpless anger. It had been so much easier when he’d had pointless battles to be furious about, all the death and destruction. And even though he’d never imagined that he himself would be what stopped centuries of bloodshed, it’d nonetheless been an easy role to take, even when it came through marriage to his once enemy.

It was different for the Shé, who carried their emotions freely on their sleeves and said what was on their mind. His husband, as such, was temperamental and cutting, with a sweetness hidden under layers of bravado. If Jingyi was not the worst Bào to ever be and gave back what Jin Ling threw at him instead of the serene silence of his kind, he didn’t know how they’d ever work.

Sometimes, despite their somewhat stilted progress, he still wasn’t sure.

Logically, he understood his place. He was first zhangfu and the most important. But that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a second, or third, or even tenth. Jin Ling’s grandfather alone had had seventeen wives, and that still hadn’t been enough for him. One day, it would be expected of Jin Ling to take another spouse, preferably a wife to make him heirs, and Jingyi would have to deal with it, even if it went against everything he knew himself.

He’d been taught to fear these people, but still respect their very strange ways. And he’d thought he could do it, and gladly too.

To feel that resolve shaken apart already, so completely, so easily, Jingyi wondered how he ever thought he could possibly be expected to share. Jin Ling was a brat, but he was his brat. All these weeks of trying so hard to find common ground, to be someone Jin Ling could count as friend and confidant, to be a good husband, and for what?

One smile from Ouyang Zizhen and that cold bitterness swelled inside him. One laugh, and he had to set down his cup in fear of breaking the fine porcelain.

It was ridiculous. Jin Ling was allowed to have friends. He was glad Jin Ling had such a friend, and that made it all worse. He could be reasonable about this, he could. Childhood friends held that ability to get smiles and relaxed laughter. So what if Jingyi had to struggle so hard for the same? Jin Ling was forced to put up with him. Of course it wasn’t interchangeable.

That didn’t stop the feeling whatsoever. Made it worse, really.

Because Ouyang Zizhen was warm and friendly and if Jingyi wasn’t such a petty wretch he’d want the easygoing Lù as a friend too.

It was already hard enough that Sizhui liked him, laughed with him, welcomed him into their small group, and that Jingyi was hard pressed to argue the decision. He liked Ouyang Zizhen, all things considered, liked his charm and dramatic tales of love scorned.

The bitterness was not there because Ouyang Zizhen smiled at Sizhui the way Sizhui was meant to be smiled at, or smiled at Jingyi for that matter. It was because he smiled at Jin Ling, and that Jin Ling grinned right back, eyes flashing in mischief and more lively and animated than Jingyi had ever managed to get.

And that… stung.

Still, he managed a near hour with the trio before having to retreat, citing a need to get cool from the ever present warmth and sunlight of the Shé capital. Thankfully, it hadn’t even been a lie; he was meant for snow and cold, not the heat the others thrived in.

He just wished the small alcove could cool his temper as well as his skin.

A whisper of the curtain behind him let him know he’d been followed and he found himself hoping it was Sizhui. They’d only met the day of his wedding, but already he was like a brother long lost. His soothing nature was a balm, most days, when the strain of it all became too much, and Jingyi turned willingly, needing that comfort.

But it was not the sweet Tùzĭ standing there, lit by a back-glow of sunlight. It was Jin Ling, dark eyes shimmering with serpent gold and princely brow furrowed. If it wasn’t such a surprise to see him, Jingyi wondered if it would have been relief filling his heart to see his husband now, or if the sight would have only served to make the coldness in his stomach worse.

They stared at each other for a beat too long, because Jin Ling would never admit to doing something kind and Jingyi was still rocked by his presence. Finally, his husband looked off to the left, muttering to the wall, and it was sweet enough he felt something tense inside him start to release. “I was told to check on you. Are you alright?”

Jingyi hated the fondness that filled him hearing that. If only Jin Ling wasn’t prone to blushing, he could believe what he was saying face value. It would be so easy to bicker and send him off in a huff, if that were the case.

But it wasn’t, and even his jealous heart could soften to it. “And when do you follow orders so easily?” he asked, crossing his arms. He tried for amusement, but only felt tired as that bitterness started to drain. “I’m fine.”

“I thought the Bào were forbidden from lying,” Jin Ling said and locked their gazes with a frustrated noise. “You’ve been acting weird all morning. Yesterday too.”

It was true enough and Jingyi found he was the one glaring at the wall now. Had he truly let such horrid feelings plague him so long? No wonder he was so bitter. Ashamed, he sighed and forced the feeling to leave as best he could, but it persisted, having rooted hard in his chest.

His silence had Jin Ling stepping forward, a surprise. “If I’ve done something -”

“No,” Jingyi assured him, because in all honestly Jin Ling hadn’t done anything except enjoy a friend. It wasn’t his fault Jingyi was apparently so selfish. He wilted in guilt just thinking about it. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just…”

He shook his head and did his best to smile as he waved that off. “Don’t worry, I’ll get over it. Just need to work through something. Go back and have fun. I’ll be along in a minute.”

Of course, telling Jin Ling to do something just made him all the more stubborn not to do it. Jin Ling crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, a fighting stance, because he was ridiculous. “Or you can tell me what’s wrong and we can both go back.”

There was a time, not even three months ago, that he would’ve been tasked to kill this man, or have to worry about being killed instead. It was a sudden grief, knowing what could have been, that he could have never known Jin Ling’s true heart, that such a bright fire could have been forced out of the world. War had separated them for so long, had robbed them of a more proper meeting, proper courtship, proper marriage. Was he really going to let something else rob them of more?

No, he resolved. He was not.

“Laugh if you want, but I’m feeling inadequate,” he said, laying it all bare and refusing to be sorry for it. “I feel like i have to fight for even an inch with you, yet Master Ouyang can get it all in an instant.”

Jin Ling blinked at that, surprise plain, and his brow furrowed so hard his vermilion mark disappeared in the folds of skin. “You’re jealous of Zizhen?”

“And I feel stupid about it,” Jingyi agreed, feeling his face burn. “I get you’re friends, but it’s hard -”

“You realize he sent me in here after you, right?” Jin Ling cut across, oddly blushing harder now too. “And that he’s sweet on Sizhui?”

Jingyi took that in with no small amount of shock. “He is?” he asked, dumbly. “He did?”

“He wanted me to take the chance to show I’m a good listener, or something,” Jin Ling huffed and it was clear then just why his flush was so hot. “That… I’m a good husband.”

Jingyi smiled, that cold coil breaking as a warmth overtook his heart. Embarrassed, but pleased, he reached for Jin Ling’s hands, felt their sun-kissed heat, and pressed his lips to each knuckle, until his husband was nearly as red as the dot between his brows.

“You are,” Jingyi murmured. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I did say i was being stupid.”

“Yeah, well, just stop it and come back,” Jin Ling managed, all flustered authority, and Jingyi couldn’t help but laugh to see it.

“If you want me there, just say so,” Jingyi teased, dared, but it came out a little too soft. Too wanting.

Jin Ling huffed at him like it was nothing. Easy, so easy, and Jingyi’s heart was flying. “Of course I want you there. Now come. If I have to sit through those idiots trying to court without knowing it, so do you.”

A held out hand followed that, as well as a determined pout, and Jingyi knew he’d follow this man anywhere as long as he continued to look at him like he was worth the effort. And he told himself he would be worth it, would be better, and worthy of his place in Jin Ling’s life.

One day, perhaps, he’d find a place in his heart, too, and even jealousy would not be able to touch him. He could only hope for such a day and pray it came.

For now, he took Jin Ling’s hand and followed him back out into the sun.

[bellemorte180]

If I Die Before I Wake: Chapter Three

Vengeance is defined as punishment or retribution for a wrong committed against another. A single curse could derail and weaken the most powerful being in the world. A single massacre could take the entire world in one go; but it could centuries to execute the perfect vengeance.

Chapter Three

Chicago

October 1922

Klaus was in a foul mood as he sipped on his bourbon. He watched the people in the middle of Gloria's bar and was tired of Chicago. They were only meant to be there for a short stop. Freya had heard of Gloria, a powerful witch who may have connection to the Bennett line. It seem frustrating that those witches were so well hidden. Katerina must have made a deal with someone before the slumber spell was cast or Emily cast a cloaking spell on her bloodline just to hide them all from Klaus. Fifty-eight years without Caroline and Klaus could feel what left of his humanity burn away slowly.

He knew why they were still there. He cast his eyes towards his younger sister and the man who had his arms around her. Ever since Alexander, Klaus had been doubtful of Rebekah's taste in men. They always seemed weak.The only one who seemed to be a descent choice that Klaus didn't have to slaughter had been Marcel; and even then he hated the idea. If it wasn't for Caroline, Klaus would have shoved a dagger in Rebekah's heart and snapped Marcel's neck. However, he didn't. In the end even Rebekah couldn't hold that relationship together either. Although, he didn't know if it was because Caroline was gone or she grew bored.

Either were plausible answers to be honest.

And then there was Stefan. The new boy. Klaus hated to admit but he liked him. He was charismatic and enjoyed a good rip. They had fun just like Klaus and Kol used to. If Kol wasn't banished to the dagger for the rest of eternity, the three of them might have had some fun together; creating a blood bath that Chicago had never seen. He liked Stefan enough to overlook the fact that Katerina was his sire. Most days he could overlook that he was turned the same year that he lost Caroline; or that he was turned in the same place, or that he knew Emily Bennett when she was alive......or that he knew nothing of where the Bennett's where. The only reason he allowed Stefan to live was because Klaus knew Stefan had nothing to do with the curse and the fact that Rebekah liked him.

However, today was not most days.

“Come now Nik, you should enjoy the party.” Stefan said with a wide smile on his baby face. He grabbed a glass full of illegal bourbon and drained it. “It would be a shame to sit here and not enjoy the music. Gloria is really casting a spell tonight isn't she?” Stefan's eyes fluttered over to Rebekah who gave him a coy smile. That only infuriated Klaus further.

“Tonight is not the night to tease my into false brotherly affections.” Klaus snapped at him and Stefan saw his eyes flash yellow. This was the hybrid that people whispered about in the night. While he called Stefan a friend, Klaus wasn't above chopping his head off. “It's Caroline's birthday.”

“Oh. I didn't realize. I'm sorry.” There was that never ending compassion for those he cared about that both infuriated and pleased Klaus. It reminded him the Caroline he first married. The young seventeen year old girl full of light. Even in her bloodiest and darkest moments, Caroline never lost that light. “Maybe you should have another drink?”

“Or maybe he should go back to the penthouse.” Rebekah replied in the only tone she could achieve; bratty and spoiled. She put her hands on her hips, her nails tracing the white lace of her dress. Her hair was done it the flapper style and she was gorgeous, even Klaus acknowledged that. The silver necklace that had once belonged to their mother hung around her neck. Klaus could tell that Rebekah was finally coming into her own and that caused Klaus to want nothing more than to rip her throat out. “Perhaps you should not have come at all.”

“I thought you said that I shouldn't be alone tonight?” Klaus snapped back. His eyes narrowed. In the back of his mind he could hear Caroline's voice, stating that Rebekah cared far more than she lets on. Even in the deepest of slumbers, Caroline was able to keep him from doing something drastic. Her voice just brought to much pain; so he decided to shut it out.

“Why don't you tell me about Caroline? Rebekah's told me what she was like but, I would like to hear it from you.” Stefan chimed in, sensing the escalating tension between the siblings. That was Stefan, always able to calm even Rebekah in her brattiest of moments. “Rebekah said she was full of light. That she lit of a room whenever she walked into it.”

“Thats my Caroline.” Klaus drank more bourbon before falling into memories. “I met Caroline when we were human; before my mother tampered with a very dangerous spell made by a witch centuries before she was born. It was during the Summerfest in our village, we were celebrating the end of summer and welcoming autumn. I saw her across the fire and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She was singing and I never heard a voice like hers before. I thought I loved someone else but Caroline, she showed me what it really meant to love someone.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is. A little neurotic and a controlling but passionate. Oh, you should see us fight.” Klaus laughed, really laughed for the first time. “Centuries ago, when we were first turned and running for our lives, we made a stop in France. A noblewoman, Aurora, took an interest in me.”

“Psychotic tramp.” Rebekah muttered under her breath.

“You cheated on Caroline?”

“Never!” Klaus hissed and his eyes turned yellow. “I would never betray her. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Aurora took a fancy to me, not the other way around. She kissed me and I pushed away; Caroline saw the whole thing. It was the first time I really saw her loose her control. Caroline mastered being a vampire the moment Mikel made me watch him shove a sword through her chest but this, this made her lose complete control. She snapped Aurora's neck so quickly that I could hardly see her do it. The fight we had lasted a fortnight. Brought Mikael right to us. It was the brightest her light ever shined.”

“That is probably the most twisted thing I have ever heard.” Stefan chuckled, looking at Klaus's face. He was lost in that memory. The memory of Caroline's lips savagely devouring his over Aurora's corpse. It was possibly the first moment that they both lost their humanity into each other. “So Caroline killed Aurora.”

“Not quiet. Someone had Rebekah's blood in her system.” Rebekah rolled her eyes at her brother but smirked. Stefan turned to his girlfriend and she just shook her head.

“Aurora was prone to mania. She attempted suicide the night before because she couldn't understand why my brother did not love her. Klaus discovered that our blood was healing when Lucian, a servant boy, was beaten by Aurora's brother Tristen. I forced my blood down her throat to save her. When Caroline snapped her neck, Aurora became the first vampire that was turned after us.”

"You said the fight between you and Caroline brought your father after you?” Stefan asked. It was clear that Rebekah had shared more than Klaus would have preferred. Either way, Mikael was dead so he supposed he could let that go. He hated thinking of his step-father anymore than was reasonable.

“Yes. Our fight turned bloody. Caroline has a tendency to be as jealous as am I. The entire castle was pretty much massacred by the end. If Elijah hadn't learned to compel, we might have not made it out. We turned Lucian, Tristen and another servant girl as well. We compelled them to believe that they were us in order to lead Mikael on a false trail. Worked for a century.”

“A century? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Rebekah snapped, slamming her glass on the table.

“What Bekah? Too painful of a memory? Yet it is perfectly okay for me to relieve the first time I ever saw doubt in Caroline's eyes but you can't relive the memory of Alexander and his betrayal?!” Klaus was growing angry. His eyes flashed to Stefan. “Did she tell you that she allowed a hunter to bed her like a common whore?”

“Stop it Nik! I loved him. You know I did and he broke my heart.” Klaus looked murderous. The room went still. The people in the speakeasy froze, sensing the shift in the air around them. In a slit second, Klaus reached across the table and flung Rebekah across the room. Her mother's necklace hit the floor with a loud thud. People screamed and scattered. Glasses dropped. The alcohol that was worth more than ever-before spilled.

“You know nothing of love. You know nothing of a broken heart.” Stefan moved slightly out of the booth. Klaus saw him out of the corner of his eye. He flashed over and picked up the man he actually liked by the neck. “You loved Alexander. You loved Emil. You loved Marcel and now this one. Your love is fleeting. This one will end eventually. Why not now?”

“Nik, please. Don't. Don't kill him.” Klaus saw it, in her eyes. This one was different. He looked to Stefan and he could see it there too. Seeing the confirmation between the two lovers only made Klaus break even more. Once, he would have wanted his baby sister to feel what is was like to completely give into another person. Now, he was at the point where he wanted to burn the world to the ground. He turned to Stefan and looked him directly in the eye.

“I'm sorry Stefan, but the fun must end here. You must forget Rebekah and me until I say otherwise. You never knew us Stefan. Thank you. I had forgotten what it was like to feel something other pain for such a long time.” He dropped Stefan to the ground and faced Rebekah, who had the most heartbroken expression on her face. Klaus strolled towards her slowly. He opened up his coat, pulling out a silver dagger.

“Why do you have that? Why did you bring that?” She was still on the ground, tears staining her cheeks. She crawled backwards, trying to escape from him but knew that he would always catch her. Klaus crouched down to her level and waved the dagger in front of her. He grabbed her and slid the dagger into her chest; leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Because I knew you and Stefan were planning on leaving me behind.” He looked at her eyes and watched as her skin turned grey. “Don't worry little sister, I'll bring him back to you when I have Caroline.”

*

Mystic Falls

April 2010

Elena frantically looked around the room. She was locked in a room that was possibly the best furnished room she had ever been in. She ran to the windows and pounded on them; smearing the blood on them as she screamed. Yet, none of the workers below heard her. Her hand went back to her neck, the wound still bleeding from Klaus's assault.

Her body and mind were in shock. Klaus stole her liked she expected but not because he needed or wanted her. No, he wanted Bonnie and that was not something she expected. It had always been her. Hadn't it? She couldn't remember a time that everything didn't revolve around her.

"I apologize.” Elena jumped and turned. In the now open doorway stood a man with impeccable dress. He was tall, brown hair and dressed in a suit. “I didn't mean to scare you. Forgive me.” He saw the injury on her neck. “My brother Niklaus does like to make an entrance. I'm sorry that he hurt you.” The man stepped forward, bit into his wrist and offered her. “Drink. It will heal you.” Elena wanted nothing less than to drink the blood but she could feel the wound wasn't going to heal. She accepted and drank, tasting copper on her tongue. She could feel the wound begin to heal.

“Thank you.” Elena whispered and she stepped away. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You said 'your brother'? You mean Klaus?”

“Yes. I'm Elijah.” Elena smiled tentatively. “Niklaus was always rash but he is brilliant. He had a good heart once. Long ago. Our father hated him. Beat him furiously but Caroline gave him purpose. Passion. Drive. For eight hundred years their marriage held strong. They fought with the worst of them, but never once did they break. When Katerina had her witch cast that spell, she unleashed pure evil onto this world. He killed and maimed with Caroline. Without her, his moods and anger got worse. Blood flowed in the streets and second chances were never offered. Yet, he still clung to his humanity. If your witch fails I fear nothing in his path will be left standing.”

“Is that a promise?”

“No. A warning.” Elijah cocked his head and looked at her. “Niklaus is a broken man. Our family has been torn apart by what Katerina has done.” There was something behind his eyes that Elena could see but she didn't have a moment to process it before Elijah started speaking again. “There are clothes in the closet for you. Food will be brought at your request. A TV has been set up and the room is connected to a bathroom, right through there.”

“Such a luxurious prison.” Elena snapped, crossing her arms. Elijah chuckled at her as though he found her more than entertaining.

“You all look alike. All three of you. Each of you had a different personality but there was this fire in you.” Elijah studied her and Elena felt uncomfortable. To hear that the man in front of her had met several woman who were identical to her, suddenly made Elena not feel special at all.

“Oh goody, another one.” Elena's eyes snapped toward the doorway. A tall blond woman who looked similar to the witch Klaus had brought with them made her way into the bedroom. “Why do we always find ourselves in the presences of the doppelganger? Why does our fate always seemed to be intertwined with theirs?”

“A curse I blame our mother for.” Elijah replied and the blonde snickered. “It is good to see you Rebekah.” She smiled at him and make her way across the room and throwing her arms around him. He spun her around before setting her down. It was a moment of affection Elena didn't think would be possible for siblings of the man who savagely tore at her throat. “A few days and our entire family will be back together.”

“I'm looking forward to it. I missed having Caroline around. She always did have the best fashion advice for the times.” Rebekah smiled and looked over towards Elena. She didn't really spare to much of a glance, once you've met one doppelganger, you've met them all. However, something caught her eyes and the bored look she wore turned to fury. Before Elena could blink, Rebekah was pinning her to the wall with her hand wrapped around her throat. “Where did you get this?!”

The blonde vampire ripped the necklace Elena was wearing from her neck and dangled it in front of her. Rebekah didn't even flinch as the vervain burned her skin. Black veins appeared under her eyes and Elena felt her heart begin to race. Her vision blurred from the lack of oxygen and she felt herself being slammed back into the wall a second time.

“I won't ask you again, where did you get my necklace!”

“Rebekah, she can't answer you if you're chocking her.” Elijah chimed in and Rebekah tossed a filthy look over her shoulder at her brother but she loosed her grip. Elena took a few deep breaths and remained silent. Rebekah huffed in impatience and looked deeply into Elena's eyes. Without the vervain hanging around her neck, she was vulnerable to compulsion. “Who gave you that necklace?”

“My boyfriend Stefan.” Rebekah dropped Elena and took a step backwards. She could see the complete look of heartbreak on Rebekah's face; the necklace still dangling in her hands. Elijah sighed and stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“He gave you my mother's necklace?”

“Niklaus promised that he would make it right.” Elijah stated and Rebekah's eyes glistened. She turned and flashed from the room. The other vampire looked down at the girl and saw that her neck was bruised. He wouldn't blame her if she began to really hate them, having two of his siblings attack her in the same day. He bit into his wrist for a second time and offered it to her; however this time Elena declined. “It appears that you are seeing my siblings on their bad days.”

“I just don't understand what is going on.” Elena croaked out. “Katherine made it sound as though Klaus was coming to Mystic Falls for me because I look like her and it some how would help Klaus get his wife back.” That wasn't exactly what Katherine had said but Damon came flashing into the tomb before she was able to get any further answers. Everyone just assumed that Elena was the target.

“It is true that Niklaus is here in order to wake Caroline from her sleep but you have nothing special to contribute. I don't mean to be indelicate but you're just a means to an end.” It was harsh but Elena appreciated his frankness. “It is true that doppelganger blood is valuable. We discovered in the 1700s that it would be needed to create hybrids, someone who is a vampire and werewolf combined” Elijah added upon seeing Elena's look of confusion “like Niklaus himself. He was willing to wait for another one of Tatia's descendants to make an appearance. However, when Caroline was cursed, the talk of hybrids ended.”

“So he doesn't want my blood?”

“The only thing Niklaus wants is Caroline. Everything else is inconsequential.”

“Sounds like he is obsessed with her.” This caused Elijah to chuckle.

“Trust me. The obsession is mutual.”

*

Cadiz, Spain

June 1702

The forrest was thick and deep. The sun was beating down on her back as Caroline strolled through the trees. The clothing she wore was impractical, what with the tight corset and full skirt. The hems were getting dirty from the ground beneath her feet but she continued onward. She stopped and looked down at the body part below. A sigh escaped her lips. It wasn't as though Caroline was innocent when it came to murder but she preferred not to slaughter for the sure pleasure of it; she wasn't Kol after all. She knew that Klaus was relishing in the the delight of having his wolf back but this was getting out of hand.

“I found a hand and what looks like to be half a torso.” Caroline stated in a bored tone. Elijah was at her side in a second as was Kol. The three of them looked at the body part in annoyance.

“Why is it that when Nik slaughters an entire village in his new found wolf form, we clean up after his messes. When I torment a house full of prominent noble men, I get a dagger in the heart?” Kol stated in a petulant tone. He was none to pleased being forced to chase after his older brother's mess.

“Because Nik has been trying to break this curse for seven hundred years and when you torment innocent victims, you draw way to much attention.” Caroline snapped. She never wanted to admit that Kol had a point because that would go to his head, but unfortunately Kol did have a point. The last thing she needed to was control Kol with an inflated ego. She had enough of a challenge being married to Klaus.

“Although, if Niklaus doesn't shift back soon and stop this rampage, he will draw Mikael's attention.” Elijah joined in. “Although, I am beginning to expect that is his intention, am I wrong?” Caroline turned towards Elijah. She knew it bothered him that Niklaus stopped confiding in him as much after the incident in England. It wasn't that Klaus didn't trust or love his brother, it was just that Elijah's judgment always seemed to be clouded when it came to the doppelgangers. Klaus loved Tatia once but that ended when his affections for Caroline grew. However, Elijah's love for Tatia never ended and he had hoped to recreate that love with Katerina.

“Yes. Nik wants to draw Mikael here and finish this. We have a white oak stake and he broke his curse. He is stronger than Mikael now and with all of our help, we can end this. We can stop running and perhaps create a home somewhere.” Caroline smiled. She knew that Klaus was doing this, not only for himself but for her. She was tried of running. She was tired of looking over her shoulder. She wanted a home and she wanted one with him. He once built her a hut in the dead of winter while he was still human because he knew that he was going to marry her. She still saw that determination in his eyes now when he looked at her. “This rampage is not just him enjoying his inner beast; he is gaining his strength for the fight.”

The two brothers were silent and that was a feat for Kol who always had a witty remark. None of them knew how it would end with Mikael but they knew it needed to be done. Each of the Mikaelson siblings grew to hate their father but none more than Klaus. Elijah remembered some sentiment of emotion for the man but the beatings his brother endured took precedent in his mind. Caroline hated him with the entire soul of her being because she was the one who saw the scars on his body that only Mikael could have created.

“Kol, take this and put them with the rest then start a fire.” Kol did as he was told without complaint; something unheard of. Kol flashed away and Elijah just stood there looking at Caroline. He said nothing but Caroline could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“What is it Elijah?”

“Why didn't he tell me that he found another doppelganger?” There it was. Caroline and Klaus had gone back and forth from telling Elijah the truth why they came to Spain. At first Elijah just thought it would be a new adventure for them, a new place for them to hide from Mikael. Yet, he saw the calculation going on between Klaus and Caroline; but they let none of the family in.

“Don't take it personally Elijah. We told no one. Not Rebekah, not Kol. No one.” Caroline stated but could see that answer wasn't going to be enough. “It is not that we don't trust you Elijah, it is just that you have a history with the doppelgangers. You loved Tatia. Still do. You loved Katerina and while we know you had nothing to do with her escape, we wanted to ensure that Francesca stayed where she was. It was best if she knew nothing of our coming.”

“I'm amazed I didn't notice her. A noble woman wearing the face of the women I have loved.” Caroline smiled at that. When Francesca was discovered, they were unsure how they were going to hide her from Elijah but the opportunity presented itself.

“It was easy. She was near the end of her confinement.” Caroline added and Elijah nodded. Pregnant woman of nobility rarely go out into society. Which worked perfectly for them when it came to keeping Elijah in the dark. Klaus of course just wanted to snatch her right away, sacrifice her and move on. Yet, Caroline thought it would be best to allow her to birth her child and keep the Petrova line alive.

“She had a son then?” Elijah asked and Caroline nodded. “Do you think how you retrieved her was cruel? The Caroline I knew never would have harmed a pregnant woman and yet you walked right into her home, took her from her birthing bed and brought her to be sacrificed on an alter.”

“You make it sound as though I cut the child from her.” Caroline snapped. “I may have compelled her labor to advance but I did not harm that child Elijah.” He knew she hadn't. No matter how much her love and obsession for Klaus caused her to let go of her humanity, Caroline could never harm a child. “Once the child was born, yes I took her and yes she never held her son but I did what needed to be done. I brought her body back and as far as anyone is concerned, she died in childbirth.”

“It was clean and your compulsion is always sound.” Elijah cocked his head. “But what is really bothering you? Your hatred for the doppelgangers parallels my brothers'. He hated Tatia because of her affair with me. He hated Katerina because she prevented him from breaking the curse. But why do you hate them so?”

“Tatia bedded my husband.”

“Long before you could have called Niklaus you betrothed let alone husband. Aurora kissed him after you were married and I don't see you hunting her down to make her pay for it.” Caroline narrowed her eyes. Elijah knew better than to mention Aurora's name to her because seven hundred years later she still holds a grudge against the wench.

“Let her cross my path and she won't be so lucky with Rebekah's blood this time.” Caroline snapped. She could see that her brother-in-law was not going to let it go. “Tatia had a child. Before Niklaus and I became acquainted I remember thinking that she was blessed.”

“Yes. She had her late husband's child.”

“And Katerina gave birth to Nadia.”

“A child you tracked down and hide in order to prevent her from ever finding.” Elijah replied. It was an odd punishment, especially since Caroline had kept Nadia close for a year before placing her in a village far away from Bulgaria. For a long time, Elijah thought it was just extended punishment for running, as though massacring Katerina's family wasn't enough. “What is it?”

“They just always seem to have what I can't. Tatia had her daughter. Katerina had Nadia and Francesca had her son.” Caroline looked down. “I was pregnant.” Elijah went still and if his heart still beat, it would have skipped one. “When we were human, right before we were turned, I suspected I was with child; and then when Mikael killed me and Esther brought us back, the child was gone.”

“Caroline, I didn't know. I'm sorry.” She didn't reply and her face was stone. Elijah knew her well enough that she was constructing that perfect wall back up around her emotions. If Caroline was a master of anything, it was control and that included her emotions. “Did my brother know?”

“Yes. I told him of my suspicions but I did not feel the quickening yet. We wanted to wait.” They heard a shift, about a mile away and Caroline plastered that smile back on her face. It wasn't completely false but the pain was still there. “It seems my husband as decided to return to his human form.”

[hadesglance]

All hail the new queen... - 23 (Hades Original Piece)

You fought your way through the maze of the underworld to make a deal with the King…intrigued the lonely king listens…

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six Part Seven  Part Eight   Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven Part Twelve  Part Thirteen  Part Fourteen  Part Fifteen  Part Sixteen Part Seventeen  Part Eighteen  Part Nineteen   Part Twenty  Part Twenty-One   Part Twenty-Two

Hades sighed looking down at his watch again. They were going to be late at this point so what was a few more minutes. He was sure everyone would understand. At least Zeus would, he knew everything that was going on, which meant so did everyone else.

He looked in the foyer mirror adjusting his tie. He was never good at getting it in the right place. He sighed holding it letting his hand slowly fall when he saw you walk up behind him.

You wore a simple spring dress, with a shawl draped over your arms. You looked less then thrilled to be going to the spring event with him in Olympus. You had asked him not to go, but unfortunately it was the one required event of the year. You just happened to fall into his life at the same time as all the other required events of the century…

Things fell apart for you after your father’s passing. You begged him for days to see him, to which he had to heartbreakingly tell you no. Eventually, you told the school you were taking some time off…indefinitely. Too many things happening all at once…

“Y/N…” Everything he wanted to say to you he felt he couldn’t. A distance had built up between the both of you.

“Let’s just get this over with…okay?” You forced a smile avoiding eye contact with him, “I’m feeling tired and…I really don’t want to go…”

He nodded slowly offering his arm to you as he walked toward the door, “For what it’s worth…you look lovely.”

You glanced up to him as you nose got red as you took his arm. You looked away quickly trying not to smile, “Thank you…”

He smiled for you, something he told himself he needed to do for you sake. If you were struggling to be happy he would try to be happy for both of them until you were ready. He paused at the door looking down to you again, “I will try to keep this short…but there is some expectation. As soon as my duties are done, we can go.”

“I understand…” You nodded slowly. Hades understood everything, but he still wanted you to be part of his world. That meant doing things you didn’t want to for his sake.

He opened the door stepping through to Olympus. He watched as you stepped through your mouth dropping open as you looked around at it everything. You never got the chance to see it the same and each time it always seemed to surprise you. He hoped that at least the aesthetic would brighten your world, even just for a little while.

“There’s so many flowers….” You reached out to one of the pillars nearby caressing the flowers petals.

“Persephone.” Hades whispered to you as he stepped close plucking the flower gently before placing it into your hair. He smiled at you when you looked into his eyes as he brushed your hair into place, “This is her and her mother Demeter’s celebration. Relighting the life in the world…and in us…”

Taking your arm, he looped it into his escorting you into the crowd. He nodded to several other gods and goddesses as they made their way up to the front. He stopped at the edge of the stage seeing Hera waving him up.

He sighed turning to you as worry began to fill him, “I have to go up there as a show of support to Persephone…”

“I’ll be alright.” You told him with a small smile and curt nod.

“Don’t worry, Hades. I’ll act as chaperone for a moment if you’re worried.” He heard behind you. Looking over your head Hades saw Apollo approaching with a cup in his hand, “Go on…I’ll keep her safe.”

Hades held you hands in his for a moment staring at Apollo before looking down to you, “Apollo will keep you safe, if that’s alright?”

You looked back to Apollo who held his arm out to you. You nodded slowly looking back to Hades, “If that’s alright with you…”

Hades nodded slowly letting you go. He watched you take Apollo’s arm staring up to his face. He didn’t have a moment to ponder what could be going through your head as Hera came off the stage grabbing him by the arm, “Hades, it’s time!”

Your head snapped back over to him as you saw Hera practically dragging him away, “Oh…”

“He’ll be fine. He does this every year.” Apollo told you patting your arm.

“Yes, but he’s not fond of getting up in front of people…Hera knows that…” You watched him take his place next to Persephone, “You all have eternity to do things, she could be more patient.”

“My, my, you are very brave to say Hera needs a lesson in patience. Luckily she didn’t hear you.” Apollo chuckled raising his glass to his lips.

“And if she did? What?” You looked to him eyes narrowing slightly, “Would she strike me down? A poor mortal wouldn’t stand a chance next to the fierce rage of Hera.”

“…what happened to you?” Apollo began to pull you away when you scoffed at him. The stage disappeared from view as he refused to let you get away when you tugged for him to stop.

“Apollo…let go…” You frowned looking back across the crowd as Hera took her place and began speaking to everyone, “They’re starting…”

“You didn’t seem to keen to listen a moment ago.” He pulled you out onto one of the balconies, “Now…you are not the same young woman I saved a few months ago... What happened?”

You stared at him for a long moment, “…w-why does it matter? Why does anything that has to do with me matter to any of you!?”

Apollo glanced over to the crowd seeing a few people look over curiously, sighing he pulled you away from their view, “Because…it’s our job to care about mortals…without you all there isn’t a point to our existence, is the short answer. Now…what’s wrong?”

You stated at him a long time before stepping away looking out over the sea, “Nothing…”

Apollo sighed in frustration, “Y/N…”

“No.” You looked back to him again tearing up, “The problem is…nothing…everything is good. I’m happy…I’m surrounded by people who care about me. Everything is…fine…”

“…I don’t follow…” He stepped next to you, confusion falling over his handsome features, “If everything is fine, why doesn’t it seem like you’re fine?”

“My father died, and I was sad…I mourned him, but then it was fine…” He watched you take in a deep breath before letting it out as tears fell down on the guard rail, “Everything was fine. I didn’t feel an absence o-or anger…or…anything…and-and I just feel like I should feel something, if I’m crying all the time…because I’m always crying.”

Apollo let out a long sigh looking out to the horizon as he began to understand, “Oh mortals, you feel so deeply in everything you do…Especially loss. I understand loss of a loved one…”

You looked to him seeing a great pain fall on his features for a moment before he smiled again, “Everyone deals with death differently. Even gods. I…when Zeus killed my son…I was so angry. I blamed him and my Uncle Hades…enough that I killed the Cyclops that makes father’s weapons, but killing him didn’t help ease any pain.”

“I was sent away for a while, but I take after my father, so I didn’t learn my lesson right away. We fought for years…eventually I came to realize that it wasn’t Zeus I should be angry with…He could care less about balance…it was Hades. So consumed with life and death…perfect at his job… He brought the problem up and Zeus resolved it.” He sighed shutting his eyes as his hands tightened on the railing thinking about it.

“Asclepius?” He glanced at you as you looked at him curiously.

“You’re very smart…” He smirked a little before chuckling.

“I really liked my Gigi’s stories.” You smiled at him before your eyes narrowed a little, “But I thought Zeus put Asclepius in the stars?”

“He did.” Apollo looked up sighing again heart heavy seeing his son resting high above, “And one day he promised to make him a god, a full one.”

“Why not now?” You looked up at the twinkling stars trying to imagine what it was like.

“Balance…always about the damn balance. Asclepius had surpassed us all in the world of medicine, a feat every father would normally be proud of, which I am by the way…but it’s not time for him yet, the world isn’t ready…” Apollo looked back to you, eyes full of wisdom, “The point is…what you’re feeling is okay…I reacted with anger for a long time, I…still do…there are still pains, there always will be for people we love.”

“But that’s just it…” You sighed crossing your arms, “There isn’t any pain. Hades he…he kept such close eye on me. Even after I yelled at him…so many times…he stayed. I think about my dad and all the happy things come back to me. He was a good man, and a good father. I think I want to feel upset but I have no reason to be…maybe…”

“Answer this for me then, why do you cry?” Apollo stepped close to you. When you didn’t answer him, he reached up taking cupping your cheek to look at him. You were still that curious little girl to him and he wanted to make sure you stayed true to yourself, “Don’t be afraid to admit everything your feeling.”

“Cause I feel…” You stopped short staring into his eyes. His head tilted a little as formulated the words, “…so loved…and it scares me how much love him. How perfect everything feels…”

Apollo smiled letting his hand drop from your face taking yours in his tightly as he kissed your fingers, “Hades…is a very, very lucky man to have someone like you love him so brightly.”

“Oh my…oh my…” You tensed up hearing the click clack of high heels behind you. You watched as Apollo’s eyes shifted from you to the woman behind you, “It’s so, so sweet…lovers in the dark…”

You turned around finally looking at Media walking up like a cat ready to pounce, “Why are you so…cruel?”

She laughed stopping in front of you both cocking her hip out, “Cruel? Me? I like to think of it as being honest.”

“Honest…that’s very sad of you, if you think what you do is honest.” Apollo squared off behind you as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And you’re just a bright ball of sunshine as always, Apollo.” Meedia glared at him before returning to you, “Do you honestly think the god of the Underworld…King of his cold dark dismal land actually loves you? He could have anyone…anything…do you honestly…really honestly think he’s settling just for you? A mortal who will grow old, and frail until you’re dust…”

“I’m not going to listen to this…Apollo…” You turned and started heading for the party.

“Right behind you.” He stepped in front of Media who tried to follow you, “No…you’re done for the night.”

“Am I?” Meedia quirked an eyebrow before patting the side of his face winking before she walked past him.

You pushed past people in the crowd whispering ‘excuse me’ to get past. You just wanted to get back to Hades and go home. You glanced back to thank Apollo, but he wasn’t there. You stopped looking back through the crowd seeing him frozen on the balcony, Media nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for me?” You turned quickly hearing her voice in your ear. She smirked as she started to circle you, “Ah yes…no one to protect you right now…and you don’t wanna cause a scene, do you? Mortal girl, surrounded by gods who could simply snap their fingers and ruin everything in your pathetic life.”

“What do you want?” You hissed at her glancing up at the stage seeing Persephone speaking to the crowd as she took Hades’ hand. He was giving her back to let life spring again in the world.

“I like you…straight to the point, no filler episodes needed.” Meedia perched her chin on your shoulder wrapping her arms around your waist making your skin crawl.

Look at me… You pleaded in your head staring at Hades. You watched his hand clench and flex as his head swiveled to the crowd eyes scanning to find you, you hoped.

“I want you…to break his heart…in front of everyone here.” You looked away from Hades stepping from her rapidly, “Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N…”

“Stupid…what is wrong with you!?” Your voice rose and people moved away from you, “Why are you like this?!”

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone’s eyes moved to you both. Meedia looked around straightening up, “My dear I’m…”

“If you say a god…so help me…” You stepped toward her closing your fist at your side, stopping in front of her, nose to nose, “I feel sorry for you, Media…that you feel so inadequate about yourself…so broken that you have to bully anyone who is happy.”

“I do not feel…” You raised a finger to her face stopping her from speaking.

“I don’t care! Wanna know why?” You raised your eyebrows before pointing up to the stage, “Because I love him. I love Hades so much that your cruel and angry words cannot shatter that, and I feel sorry that you will never get a chance to feel what I feel for him because of how you act. Because you build relationships out of poison that festers and kills any hope there is.”

“…is there a problem?” Hades voice washed over you from behind. You turned seeing his concerned look ready to throw down as he stepped through the crowd.

“No…not anymore.” You smiled before pushing up on you toes kissing him deeply as your arms slinked around his neck. Chuckles, giggles, and exclamations were heard before the crowd began to clap. You were too consumed with the man in front of you to notice Media slink back and disappear.

You pulled away looking into his eyes seeing them dazzle in surprise, “I love you, Hades.”

You watched his mouth drop open slightly before it turned into a smile. He cupped your cheek letting his thumb absently caress your cheek, “I love you too.”

You smiled at him as he pressed his forehead against yours nudging his nose lightly. You stayed in the moment for little longer before your eyes widened in worry, “Apollo…”

[the-dragons-knight]

Prompt #17: A Fool Deserves No Justice?

Entry number seventeen for the FFXIV Write Challenge by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Prompt: “Obeisant”

Rating: PG

Relations: None really, shows a mother’s loss for her son

Warnings: A Realm Reborn side quest that hints at happenings in Patch zone ARR and Early Heavensward, but no spoilers to note

Meduil lost her son, a soldier stationed in Camp Dragonhead, long ago, yet she has never gotten justice for his death. She has asked Katsum to win her that justice so that she can be at peace knowing the beast who killed her son is dead.

- - - - - - - - - -

 “Ah, thank the Fury, you’ve returned safe!” The old woman, Meduil, sighed in relief upon seeing the young blonde Miqo’te enter through the doorway to her bedside, “For a moment, I chanced to think I had sent you off to your death too.”

 Katsum stopped at the foot of the bed, her stoic expression ever hiding her thoughts as she replied, “Nay, though the beast was a formidable one, I did lay it low as you’ve asked, madam. It shall plague the mountain caves no more.”

 The woman smiled and nodded, “Bless you, kind girl. Thank you. You’ve done a great kindness for this old woman.”

 “Also, while I went searching for the creature, I found something amongst some forgotten pieces of armor.”

 “Oh?” Katsum opened her hand and held out the rosary to her and Meduil stopped breathing for a moment, taking it with shaking hands, “You found his rosary... Oh Bless you, child.” She stared down at the green bead work and the blue-tinted metalwork that held it all together, all down to the symbol of Halone crafted out of the same blue metal. Katsum watched her, observing and listening.

 “As bright as the day his father put it around his neck...It’s made of mythril and malachite you see, and while the gems may one day lose their luster, the mythril shall never fade they say,” She laughed softly, looking back up at Katsum for a moment, “Not like life, eh?”

 Katsum didn’t respond.

The woman shook her head, “I don’t blame you for not answering or knowing. You’ve still got many years before you understand,” She looked back down again, “‘Fall to a dragon, go to heaven. Fall to aught else’...who gives two hells?...That’s the Ishgard way.”

Katsum narrowed her eyes in confusion, “What do you mean by that?”

Meduil met her gaze with a sad smile, “I wouldn’t expect you to know our troubles much. Especially if you hail from a land as far away from here as you look. We’ve been at war with the dragons for centuries. And it's all anyone ever cares about, even my boy. All he ever talked about was getting stronger so he could slay his own dragon one day. He was a scout, you see, and a good one I’m told. Scouts aren’t meant to fight, only observe and report back and though it can be dangerous, they often hardly ever see a day of real fighting with anything.”

Katsum shifted, “So what happened then?”

Meduil herself shifted and slowly seated herself on the bed and sighed, “Well, he got stuck out in a blizzard one day and couldn’t find his way back in the storm. You have to be careful traveling through Coerthas and some places have deep trenches carved out in the rocks. One wrong move when you can’t see what you are going and you fall a few thousand yalms to a stony death. So instead of tempting fate, he sought shelter in the caves of the Ogre’s Belly to weather out the storm. And there he met the beast that killed him...”

Katsum noticed her hand shake a little, “The storm ended and they went looking for him. And find him they did, but in the eyes of Ishgard, he died a fool’s death for having wandered so far in such a storm...and...fools they say deserve no justice...” The woman’s hands shook furiously now and a teardrop fell on her hand, “They found him...and they left him...his body, his belongings, left everything where it lay. His own comrades.”

Katsum stepped forward and knelt down beside Meduil and laid a hand on hers, trying the best that the stoic knightess could to comfort the elderly woman as she cried. Never had Katsum heard such injustice. What difference did it make whether he died by a dragon’s teeth or by the claws of the gorgotaur? He still died in the service of his nation, making sure the mountains were as safe as they could be for any future marches through there. The very thought made Katsum’s heart shake with anger.

“But you didn’t, did you?” The Miqo’te’s ears perked as she looked up into the teary eyed woman’s face, “You picked this up and brought it home to me, and I thank you for that. You have a good heart and such a noble soul to keep your promise and do a kind thing for an old woman like me.”

She took Katsum’s hands in hers firmly and nodded, “You...are the justice I sought, adventurer, and now I may live out my days in peace.” She reaches into her pocket and pulled out a small brown pouch and placed it in Katsum’s hands.

“Madam, I-”

“Take it, please. You’ve done me a great kindness. Let me repay you for it.” The warmth in Meduil sad smile made Katsum go quiet and she nodded. She let go of her hands and Katsum stood to her feet again.

“I pray your travels go well, sweet girl. And that you will be safe going through these icy lands.”

“Thank you, madam.” Katsum bowed respectfully, “And I am sorry for your loss.”

“‘Twas a long time ago child, but thank you all the same.”

As Katsum turn and left the room and descended the stairs, she eyed the knights that she passed, clutching the pouch of Gil close to her. She pushed through the doors out into the snow, stopping to look up at the sky and the spires of Camp Dragonhead as they pointed to the heavens. Though the quest Meduil had given her was finished, Katsum was not done. With a deep breath, she nodded and started forward again, a determined look in her eyes.

She would see justice done.

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

She sighed as she set down the large stone, her breath coming out as a cloud before her. She stood at the entrance of the Ogre’s Belly, arranging the rocks over the hole she’d just finished filling up until she was happy with it. She then pulled out the chisel and hammer she’d just purchased and bore down on the rock, carving out the words:

Ser Mandailan

Son of Meduil

May he watch over any who enter here

ever more and keep them safe

Her work finished, Katsum moved back enough to be respectful and knelt down to pray before the stone, praying for the soul to be welcomed into the arms of heaven if it had not already, that Halone would find his soul where it was lot and lead him to the Savior’s home in the heavens.

“Amen,” A warm wind blew past her and Katsum lifted her eyes to look about her, but she saw nothing and no one around her. She only heard what she thought was the faintest whisper of a voice that came from deep within the cave that said: Thank you.

- - - - - - - - - -

I think I did this one right? X3 We gonna go with it! This is my favorite side quest(“A Fool and His Life are Soon Parted” is its title) I think cause I remember doing it for the first time and feeling so sad for the woman that I actually knelt before her after I finished the question. It was really fun to revisit it to write this. I enjoy writing the honorable and knightly side of Kat’s actions cause its the things I would try and do myself. :3 <3

[ravenwritesstuff]

Wandering Hearts (26/?)

Fandom: Frozen AU. Set after shipwreck but before coronation day. 17th Century.

Pairing: Kristanna (Kristoff/Anna)

Rating: M (honestly if I have to explain to you what lemons are you are too young for this)

A/N: Don’t ask me what it took me to write this. Just don’t. PROOF YOU HATE YOURSELF

[ part one] [ part two ] [ part three ] [ part four ] [ part five ] [ part six ] [ part  seven ] [ part eight ] [ part nine ] [ part ten ] [ part eleven ] [ part twelve ] [ part   thirteen ] [ part fourteen ] [ part fifteen ] [ part sixteen ] [ part seventeen ] [ part eighteen ] [ part nineteen ] [ part twenty ] [ part twenty-one ] [ part twenty-one ] [ part twenty-two ] [ part twenty-three ] [ part twenty-four ] [ part twenty-five ] [ part twenty-six ] [ part twenty-seven ]

She recalls that first day in the woods where he had pulled her from her attackers. She is still unsure where the act had taken place, doesn’t remember the distance he carried her in his arms to his cabin as she had faded in and out of consciousness, but she does remember the look in his eye when he had first happened upon her.

She had nearly given up - too broken and in pain to struggle - by the time he appeared. She had thought that that was her end: alone, unloved, and forgotten. She hadn’t known how wrong she had been.

It is unclear still how he had found her, how he had happened across the horrible act and further been compelled to intervene, but she had seen something then that she had not understood. Perhaps it had been the pain, the abuse she had endured, the logic of her mind trying to fit an impossibility into the matrix of her reality - but she had known he had been different. No matter how she dredges her mind she cannot quite place what changed just as she cannot place now what about him is different as he walks out the door.

She fights to focus.

There is so much she cannot remember, hadn’t thought important, that had been pushed to the side with more immediate questions but here - now - she sees the fault in her ways.

There was something there.

That wild thing she has come to know playing in his gaze that makes it impossible for her to ignore the inference of his warnings.

She does not know him, not truly, and he not her.

She thinks of all that has gone unsaid between them, all the questions left unasked, and she wonders if any of this would be different if these things had been spoken before.

She wonders if she has done the right thing by staying, by loving him.

For all she does not know of him she knows even less about love, but still she does not doubt her feelings. Not this time. Not anymore. She does not need to know the facts and dates to understand a heart like she understands his, he hers. Maybe, just maybe, this is all bigger than both of them. Maybe, just maybe, he feels for her what she does for him - which is why he must know it is insanity to stay behind and wait.

He had saved her in those woods all those months ago: afraid, alone, and nearly spent. She will not leave him to the same fate without her.

The air is too thick to move quickly, too hard to breathe to be sensible, and she stumbles after him. Pushing open the door alone is a herculean task and she finds what awaits her requires no less effort.

The mist is all encompassing. She is unable to keep his pace beneath the strange supernatural weight in the air, and he is out of sight. She had failed to grab a lantern to brighten the night and dares not go back for fear of wasting her strength. All that lights her path is the moon filtered through the bare trees refracting in the fog - creating ghosts.

She tries to call after him but the air swallows the sound. She stumbles after his footprints instead, step after step, never once considering that she should have heeded his warning and not followed. Whatever was done was done for her error and she would not let him pay the price alone.

She recalls the last time she had ventured out in this crushing blackness, of what she had seen. Her mind had rejected it then, called it fantasy - lunacy, but she knows better now. She knows the truth. He had told her.

That is why she goes after him now.

If monsters are real as he said she will not let him face one alone - especially not if she had unwittingly brought it upon them.

Her head spins from shortness of breath. The vice around her entire frame squeezes that might tighter with each step, but she dares not stop. She presses forward, concentrating in the misty dark to find the trial. So focused is she, so oppressive the forces around her, that she hardly realizes when she has stumbled upon her destination.

It is not the same clearing where she had found him before. No. This one is is wider, more thickly guarded with rough brush and low hanging branches that grab at her now with bare, wicked fingers. She stumbles, the world's weight upon her and catches her hand on the rough bark of the surrounding trees and just watches.

It is dim, everything she sees is only in dark shadows and faint highlights, but she can see enough. The two figure circle each other - one as tall and broad as a house, the other more near the size of a man but cut from a very different shape. His shoulders are too broad, hands like boulders with ridges and sharp edges in unexpected places, but she thinks she also catches sight of the familiar in slivers of moonlight. He holds a sword, gold hair washed silver, and from the pained yet proud stance she would know him anywhere.

It is Bjarg.

His opponent is not so familiar. The figure is enormous, near four times that of Bjarg, the moonlight bouncing from his skin as if made of snow and ice. It's enormous back hunched and hulking. The head of it rounded with imposing jowls and spikes protruding from what she can only describe as it's spine and shoulders. Stout, powerful legs carry it's massive frame lumbering in counterpoint to his smaller, but by no means small figure.

She can hardly make out anything more distinct than shape and motion, head swimming as her breath rattles in her chest, but her heart stutters as the monster swings it enormous arm. It nearly catches Bjarg who manages to jump clear with agility that says he is not under this same cumbersome air - or somehow has the strength to fight through it. Which she cannot say, she can barely gasp, as he swings his sword against his attacker.

The arc of the blade is sloppy, errant, and much unlike the usual precision she has seen in his fighting. She has not seen him fight with a sword before but she is not foolish enough to think that it because he is not proficient. He is not well and whatever tactic he thought might prevail in this moment is quickly proved useless.

After only the third lunging strike from his opponent, Bjarg is swept off of his feet. She can hear the air gush from his lungs even if she cannot hear his impact cushioned in the thick snow. She also does not hear her scream - is not sure she does - is not sure it would matter. The monster takes a step closer, raises a giant fist above Bjarg as he struggles to stand and -

There was a time where she stood in doorways, knocked, and waited. There was a time she stared at closed windows and wondered why they couldn’t be opened. There was a time she hovered in the wings, too afraid to move. There was a time she was different but she has no time to wonder just what her older self would do in this moment.

She has no time at all.

Her hands scramble, shaking with cold while her nerves blaze, to come up with something - anything. Her movements still feel weighted, cumbersome, but that does not stop her. Even as she struggles for breath, even as her hands dig into the mid-calf  bank of snow  for something - anything - until scarred hands grip what she is sure is a rock.

There is no thought - only action.

With every bit of strength she can find she hurls the egg sized stone towards Bjarg’s attacker with a grunt. It sails through the air as she watches the monster loom over Bjarg’s fallen form and each second catches in her throat. She cannot look away - cannot move - cannot think until -

Her projectile hits its mark.

The weapon seems even more pathetically small as she watches it sink into the shoulder of the monster instead of bouncing off - as if the creature is so porous it absorbs the things levied against it without feeling. If it had not felt the attack then - she can barely finish a thought. Her body moves before her brain can follow anything through to completion as she steps from her hidden place into the clearing.

The monster turns.

She does not know, probably can never be certain, if it turns because of her assault or her approach. In the end, she supposes, it does not matter.

It sees her either way.

What had already once seemed impossibly huge now grew to astronomical proportions. The figure towers in shadows, massive and practically glowing where the moonlight strikes it except for its eyes. She hadn’t noticed before just how small and dark its eyes were, black as coal recessed deep in its distended head. Those eyes, however, follow her like a bead on a target.

They see her.

It’s enormous jaw drops and from it emits as sound unlike anything she has ever heard. It is a roar, but instead of just a noise she also feels it. It knocks her back with its power and force. She stumbles, feet catching on something, and she tumbles back into the snow.

Her arms flail, legs kick, fighting to stand in the deep snow but it only exhausts her. She can barely move in this terrifying heaviness that constrains her movements in ways she cannot understand. Her best attempts to stand are thwarted by mingled exhaustion and terror as the creature turns from Bjarg and steps towards her.

She hadn’t meant for this to happen.

When she had run she had not understood where she was going. She had not thought of ships or foreign destination or practicalities. She had not thought of weeks or months or years. She had not considered others, or feelings, or love. She had only left the best way she knew how.

She hadn’t known that Bjarg could fail her.

Never once had she seen him bested. Never once had he not come back to her, revived if not worse for wear. Never once had she truly doubted his ability to protect her, until now.

She thought she had been alone those years as a child when her parents had doted on her sister. She thought she had been alone standing at her parent’s graves with a kingdom watching with no one beside her. She thought she had been alone when she heard those words: then leave. She thought she had been alone when she ran, when those men attacked her, took things from her that were not theirs to take - but no.

She had never been as truly alone as she is in this moment.

In the palace she had been taught myth and legend. She learned of Balder being killed by mistletoe, of Fenrir devouring Odin, of Ragnarok. She had been taught of dragur, jötunn, and nisse. She thought she knew of monsters. She thought she understood.

Nothing she had learned prepared her for this - for the end.

The monster takes another step.

She remembers her mother, her father. They had always been kind, but far away - distracted. Between the duties of the crown and the training of Elsa to wear it after them there had been little time for her. She understood. She hadn’t pushed or fought. She knew her privileges, her rights, and she had waited. She had - but now she wonders for what?

For what had she waited?

She has been silent her entire life.

There have been so many times she could have spoken - so many things now she wishes she had said -

Another step, one more and it would be upon her.

Bjarg!

She know this is the end, but she will not go as a spark snuffed in the dark. Heavy limbs search in the dark for anything she can find, burying into the snow in daft hope to stay her impending doom. She hadn’t time upon exit to search the chest, to take up a weapon as he had. For that she now sorely laments.

She remembers when she broke her mother’s hand mirror. She had been nine. It had shattered on the floor. She remembers looking at a hundred versions of herself in the shards. Some were small, some were large, but they were all her. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, that this is the best way to think of herself.

She is not one whole picture, but instead a combination of fractals. She is small, she is big, she is warped, she is clear, she is less, more, bright, dim, visible, unseen, but she is still herself. Before and after anything else. She is her own person and nothing can change that.

If she is to die - if he is - then at least she dies knowing that all the strange fractured pieces of her life come have come together into some strange whole.

Her muscles cramp from the foreign pressures in the air, the familiar cold of the snow. This is the moment, she realizes, that she has been running from as much as she has been running toward. This is the moment where she ends, but she is not alone. She has not been alone since she found him.

If they have run out of time - then at least they have run out together.

The monster does not even bother to reach for her. It just lifts it food, edges bright as silver in the night, and she will be crushed in instants.

Something flickers in the back of her mind. She has seen this kind of silver before - but she was in the palace. Elsa is there. They are children. There is a snowman in the grand hall and she is flying - soaring - laughing - and then she is back. There is nothing but the present and a striking sense that if she does not keep fighting the next moments then that this is all she has.

She struggles, brain choking for lack of air, but then she feels it.

Something dark and sharp digs into her thigh and she remembers.

She does not know what good a small dagger can do against her impending foe, but she will not stop fighting. She does not know how.

Her stiff, numb hand fights to find her pocket. She fights against seams and folds and fabric and curses beneath her breath.

Her mother cursed once. Just once. That is where she learned it. She had been commanded under no uncertain terms to never repeat the phrase. She hadn’t, until now. She thinks that her mother, give the circumstances, would forgive her.

Or would she?

Anna is not sure she can even give her the benefit of that doubt.

If she was Elsa….

Her numb fingers catch around something substantial. The weight of metal and bone fit her palm and give her focus and purpose. This is her only chance - and it is not much of one. She can hardly breathe, the shadow of a foot twice her length is about to crash upon her frame, and this is all she has.

She rips the dagger from its hidden place in her skirt pockets and thrusts it up above her chest. It takes every ounce of her strength to do so. She gasps, word closing in on the edges and she cannot see anything now, but she does not stop. She does not withdraw. Her arm trembles at the feeble weight of it weapon and waits for her final moments.  

She and Elsa had learned a game once when they were children. They sang and danced in circles and fell on the ground. She tries to remember it now. She tries to remember the exact curve of her mother’s smile - the strength of her father’s brow.

It all fades.

All she can see is him.

All she can recall are his eyes.

This is where her story ends, their story ends.

But at least they had fought.

At least they had tried.

Unlike her sister.

She uses the last of her strength to force open her eyes - to realize her end - but all she sees is a light. A burst. An impossibility. A light that radiates down from her hand, into her arm, and illuminates her entire body and she has felt this before -

But all thought is gone.

She is gone.

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[jpat82]

Chosen

Chapter 11

    You stood in the center of the library, looking around at the books that lined the shelves. Your arms crossed to fight off the emotions coursing through your head. You heard him shuffle a bit behind you, and your body went rigid as you felt soft fabric being placed over your bare arms. James sighed heavily behind you, slipping his palm into yours. You looked down at where your hands were connected, your own hand looked tiny in comparison.

    "Come, sit by the fire." He said, gently walking to the large leather chair. He sat down and the pulled you lightly into his lap and you allowed yourself to mold into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

    "I wish I didn't feel like I was at war with myself." You managed to say, trying to breath even. It was the truth, the whole truth of it. Saying it out loud was like ripping a bandage off and allowing a wound to breathe for the first time. It hurt, and it felt good at the same time, a soft silence fell between you as he wrapped his powerful arms around you.

   James nodded his head and tenderly kissed the side of your head as you stared at the fire, watching as the flames licked upward. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, letting his scent wash over you, welcoming it.

    "I was born to a woman who worked the streets. She was human, an amazingly strong woman despite her short comings in life." He said finally breaking the silence, slowly you sat back. His eyes trained on you as he lift his hand to brush the hair from your eyes. "She always told me growing up that she wanted better for me, that she felt like the wrongs in her life made me the way I am, like the devil cursed her to have a child that could only feed on blood."

    "Your Mom was human?" You asked furrowing your brows at him.

     "Yes, she was." He chuckled, nodding lightly. "She never knew which man was my father, and she never talked about the men she met. But she did everything she could to raise me to have as normal as a childhood as possible. She taught me as much as she could since I could never attend school, the sunlight used to hurt back then. It would my blister skin after I spent to much time outside. I would go outside in the evening, when there was still some light but after the sun had set, so I could play other kids. Even then though, I knew was I different."

    You settled yourself further into his lap, listening to him as he spoke.

    "But she tried. I grew up in a house full of women who worked the streets and each of them treated me as their own. They didn't know of course why they would find dead animals out the back door, or why they never saw me during the day. And as I child I aged much like the rest of the children on the block." He explained, trailing his fingers across your arm, his eyes scanning the fabric as he did. "It wasn't till I was seventeen years of age that my aging slowed, and coincidently that was the first time I took down a human."

    He sighed heavily, his eyes met yours, soft blues taking in your features. You kept quiet, not knowing if you said anything if he would stop telling you his past. He was making you look at him as something other then what you were told. He had a mother, a childhood, people that had cared for him.

     "It was one of the men that another woman brought to the brothel." He licked his bottom lip before continuing. "Growing up in one was hard in some aspects but as I said each of the women that lived there treated me with nothing but kindness often spending hours play games with me so when this man came in and started to hurt her something in me snapped. My ma tried to keep me out of it, tried pulling me away from this guy. He thought it was funny, that this tiny woman was pulling on me."

    "What happened?" You asked, the corner of his lip pulled back but the was no sincerity in the movement.

    "I don't remember how it happened, I just know he hit my ma, hard. And it was the first time I saw red, and I snapped." He said, his words turning ice cold as he spoke. "I slammed him into the nearest wall, the wall broke on impact, I knew cause I heard it crack. I bit down on his neck as hard as I could, and to taste human for the first time... all I had ever had up until that point was small animals my mother would bring back on her way home from the store. But that first taste, when I felt the warmth of his blood rushing into my mouth, it tasted far better then anything I had ever tasted.'

    'I was kicked out that night." He sighed after a brief pause. "My ma didn't want to but they couldn't keep me there. So I was given a small bag of money and turned out in the middle of the night."

    "But you were protecting them, why did they do that?" You asked, bewildered.

    "Cause, they saw me for what I was.. a monster. They didn't see me as the child they helped raise." He replied, his eyes completely locked into yours. "And there wasn't anything my ma could do, either set me on my way or die in the streets next to me."

     "You would of protected her though." You stated, he chuckled softly shaking his head.

    "Would I? I had just had the taste for human, and she had seen me do that. She was scared, you can't tell me you wouldn't of been. Having never known what your child was, she didn't know about vampires, doll."

    You thought about it, and truth was had this been a couple nights ago you would of done the same. Hell you would of tried to kill him, but now here you were sitting in his lap listening to him speak.

    "Tell me more." You asked, he slid his hand up your back to play your hair that hung loose on your shoulder.

     "I was on my own for well over a year, feeding on people that would stray into back alleys. Just trying to survive, I would go weeks sometimes without feeding, and the pain was intense. Then a man happened upon me, his blue eyes piercing through the fog." James continued, shifting slightly so he could face you better, allowing his left hand to drop to your knee. "His name was Stan, that's all anybody ever called him. He was an ancient, the oldest there was, he showed me the ropes and explained to me what I was. And he gave me a place to stay till I got on my feet, teaching me not just how to be a vampire but everything I would need to know in the human world. Writing, reading, math, history, everything he could. I met others like myself during that time, and for once I didn't feel so alone."

   "But?" You asked, knowing there was more.

    "It came to end one night, hunters stormed his home. They killed as many as they could, not with stakes, or daggers, not with any of the things your team foolishly left you with. But with long silver swords, decapitating everyone." You felt him shuttered beneath you, a glossy look in his eye, no doubt reliving the nightmare that played in his head. "I barely managed to make it out, lost my arm in the process."

    "I didn't know that, I heard rumors about the one with the silver arm. He was a legend the people that took me told us kids about. They said he had made a deal with the devil to have complete immortality." You spoke softly. "He was gruesome, ripping his own limb from his body as a 'downpayment'."

    "Afraid not, I already had been alive for over two hundred years by the time I lost it." He smiled. "And I've lived even longer with out it. It wasn't till I met Tony that I got a new one, and that was what, three hundred maybe a three hundred and fifty years ago. He keeps perfecting it every century."

"How old are you?" You asked him, again he smiled, as he traced patterns over your thigh.

"I was born in the year 1018." He grinned, leaning forward but stopping just before his lips met yours. His eyes that were focused on your lips raised, meeting yours. He was one thousand years old and looked no older then his thirties.

"You said I was the first in a long time that could smell your lure and that all of your.. the ancients had it." You said with questioning eyes.

    "All of us pures gave off a scent, it was unique to each of us but we could always tell who was and who wasn't. And yes, I have only met one other human who could smell it, and at the time I didn't know humans could." He replied taking a deep breath. "It was a very long time ago, it was while I was still learning from Stan. I drained her, I hadn't meant to but, I did."

"You sound like you regret it." You stated looking down at your hands.

"I have many regrets in my life, she was just one of them." He replied hooking his finger under your chin. Slowly he raised you face so that your eyes met his. "And what I did last night is one of them."

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P I C K (S)  O F  T H E  M O N T H: J A N U A R Y

Tangled Like Us by Krista & Becca Ritchie

King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo

Two Can Keep a Secret by Karen M. McManus

Miracle on 5th Avenue by Sarah Morgan

Right Where I Want You by Jessica Hawkins

Winston Brothers series by Penny Reid

Tangled Like Us by Krista & Becca Ritchie

Genres: Contemporary, Romance, New Adult

Synopsis:

How to protect your heart: Let your bodyguard have it. Jane Cobalt is an American princess. The loyal and painfully curious twenty-three-year-old has inherited immense pressure to preserve the Cobalt legacy. But for Jane — sex, love, and life have been a series of royal failures. After a friends-with-benefits ended in disaster, she's sworn to a “no sex” hiatus for, well, eternity — and she has no intention of letting anyone in her bed and definitely not her heart. Twenty-eight-year-old Thatcher Moretti is painfully professional. As the stern 24/7 bodyguard to Jane, thinking about unbridled sex with his sweet client is a sin. One that he keeps committing. But the real act is a hard line he’d never cross. When a family member betrays Jane's trust, the media becomes obsessed with matchmaking the perpetually “single” Jane Cobalt and unwanted attention suddenly compromises her safety. Thatcher would do anything to protect her, and one solution may level the threats: Become the fake boyfriend to an American princess. Entwined together with boiling chemistry, new “professional” parameters, and an oath, unsaid feelings threaten to rise and change everything. ​​The Like Us series is a true series, one continuous timeline, that follows a family of wealthy celebrities and the people that protect them. .

Why we love it:

best book of Like us series so far

lunnelly breadcrumbs for the win!

the Cobalt royal fam finally gets some spotlight

beautiful connection between Jane and Thatcher that goes deeper than just physical bond 

body positivity

sexual tension is strong in this one

Trigger warnings: n/a

King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo

Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult / New Adult

Synopsis:

Nikolai Lantsov has always had a gift for the impossible. No one knows what he endured in his country’s bloody civil war—and he intends to keep it that way. Now, as enemies gather at his weakened borders, the young king must find a way to refill Ravka’s coffers, forge new alliances, and stop a rising threat to the once-great Grisha Army. Yet with every day a dark magic within him grows stronger, threatening to destroy all he has built. With the help of a young monk and a legendary Grisha Squaller, Nikolai will journey to the places in Ravka where the deepest magic survives to vanquish the terrible legacy inside him. He will risk everything to save his country and himself. But some secrets aren’t meant to stay buried—and some wounds aren’t meant to heal. .

Why we love it:

please, Ms Bardugo, CAN WE HAVE SOME MORE?

beautifully written and multi-layered female characters

interesting world-building and political setting

stakes are getting higher

amazing main ship

BANTER

very emotional and funny

basically Leigh Bardugo at her best

Trigger warnings: abuse, torture

Two Can Keep a Secret by Karen M. McManus

Genres: Mystery, Thriller

Synopsis:

Echo Ridge is small-town America. Ellery's never been there, but she's heard all about it. Her aunt went missing there at age seventeen. And only five years ago, a homecoming queen put the town on the map when she was killed. Now Ellery has to move there to live with a grandmother she barely knows. The town is picture-perfect, but it's hiding secrets. And before school even begins for Ellery, someone's declared open season on homecoming, promising to make it as dangerous as it was five years ago. Then, almost as if to prove it, another girl goes missing. Ellery knows all about secrets. Her mother has them; her grandmother does too. And the longer she's in Echo Ridge, the clearer it becomes that everyone there is hiding something. The thing is, secrets are dangerous--and most people aren't good at keeping them. Which is why in Echo Ridge, it's safest to keep your secrets to yourself.

Why we love it:

real page-turner

once you get into it, you can't put it down

mystery plot that was pretty unpredictable and it turned the "who did it" guessing game into so much fun

ending (and last sentence) that gives you chills

Trigger warnings: mentions of violence, murder

Miracle on 5th Avenue by Sarah Morgan

Genres: Contemporary, Romance, New Adult

Synopsis:

It will take a Christmas miracle for two very different souls to find each other in this perfectly festive fairy tale of New York! Hopeless romantic Eva Jordan loves everything about Christmas. She might be spending the holidays alone this year, but when she's given an opportunity to house-sit a spectacular penthouse on Fifth Avenue, she leaps at the chance. What better place to celebrate than in snow-kissed Manhattan? What she didn't expect was to find the penthouse still occupied by its gorgeous—and mysterious—owner. Bestselling crime writer Lucas Blade is having the nightmare before Christmas. With a deadline and the anniversary of his wife's death looming, he's isolated himself in his penthouse with only his grief for company. He wants no interruptions, no decorations and he certainly doesn't appreciate being distracted by his beautiful, bubbly new housekeeper. But when the blizzard of the century leaves Eva snowbound in his apartment, Lucas starts to open up to the magic she brings…This Christmas, is Lucas finally ready to trust that happily-ever-afters do exist? .

Why we love it:

soft broody guy + sunshine girl trope

softest relationship

slow burn 

cliche with happy ending

Trigger warnings: n/a

Right Where I Want You by Jessica Hawkins

Genres: Contemporary, Romance, New Adult

Synopsis:

There’s a thin line between love and hate . . . and it cuts right through the middle of their office. Bad boys? They run right over good girls like Georgina Keller. But after a confidence-shattering breakup, she’s determined not to let anyone at her new workplace push her around—least of all the brooding creative director, a “bad boy of publishing” who’s made it clear she’s enemy #1. Sebastian Quinn's taste for fast cars, late nights, and beautiful women may have gotten him to the top of a leading New York magazine, but the reputation that made him is suddenly threatening to end his career. Georgina can help Modern Man shed its bad reputation, but in order to do that, she’ll have to start at the top—and no amount of rakish charm or inconvenient attraction will distract her. Because if Sebastian gets her right where he wants her, it means she’s going down. .

Why we love it:

slow burn office romance with enemies to lovers trope, ENOUGH SAID

characters that don't fit the typical molds for female and male character in contemporary books

off the charts chemistry

once you start reading, you can't put it down

Trigger warnings: n/a

Winston Brothers series by Penny Reid

Genres: Contemporary, Romance, New Adult

Synopsis:

There’s a thin line between love and hate . . . and it cuts right through the middle of their office. Bad boys? They run right over good girls like Georgina Keller. But after a confidence-shattering breakup, she’s determined not to let anyone at her new workplace push her around—least of all the brooding creative director, a “bad boy of publishing” who’s made it clear she’s enemy #1. Sebastian Quinn's taste for fast cars, late nights, and beautiful women may have gotten him to the top of a leading New York magazine, but the reputation that made him is suddenly threatening to end his career. Georgina can help Modern Man shed its bad reputation, but in order to do that, she’ll have to start at the top—and no amount of rakish charm or inconvenient attraction will distract her. Because if Sebastian gets her right where he wants her, it means she’s going down. .

Why we love it:

family bonds

you will fall instantly in love with all of the brothers

the writing is witty

hilarious and heart warming

each romance is different and unique from the last and will have you hooked

Trigger warnings: n/a