#ship: love forged for a lifetime

[alostcuttlefish]

I think what I love about the Murderbot Diaries

(aside from, you know Murderbot who I love and cherish)

It that it’s a very grim-dark distopian corporate hellscape setting, told through the perspective of someone who has seen some of the worst that world has to offer, who’s existence is part of the worst that world has to offer, and yet-

And yet it’s so full of hope.

Everywhere you look, there’s underground shipping routes to get refugees out from contract labour, there’s universities forging documents to get abandoned colonies out from corporate ownership, there’s people buying a secunit so the company don’t realise it’s hacked itself and has free will. A Tlacy employee smuggles out copies of the files to give them back to their owners, a human officer on HaveRatton station opens the security barrier to let Ayda Mensah escape. There’s a planet that took the promise of somewhere safe to live, of food and medical care, and kept that promise for generations.

And for all it can’t even see the hope yet, can’t even really believe it might be there yet (because trauma will fuck you up), Secunit keeps being that hope for other people.

Not just the lives it saves, not just all the times it shows up out of nowhere like a social anxious guardian angel with energy weapons in it’s arms and several lifetimes worth of soap operas in it’s storage.

When it talks to Dr Volescu all the way up the side of the crater, to keep him moving. When it sticks with the scientists on RaviHyral. When Tapan sneaks onto it’s sleeping mat, because she’s scared, and it ups it’s body temperature to keep her warm. When it keeps Amena safe from a predatory partner, when it tells her to go rest. When it hacks the Comfort Unit’s governor module. When it-version-2.0 gives Three the codes to hack itself.

Imagine being on RaviHyral. Imagine meeting a security consultant who you shouldn’t be able to afford, who goes above and beyond and doesn’t even check the payment card at the end, who tells you that sometimes people do things to you that you can’t do anything about, that all you can do is learn to live with them, who’s clearly been through some shit but came out of it with so much compassion. Imagine the hope in that.

[sky-is-the-limit]

I don’t think people fully understand the sheer gravity of Destiel.

Like, this isn’t just a story about an angel falling in love with a human or another fanon ship that was created just because two dudes were standing too close.

This is an angel, a being forged by God, programmed to follow orders, incapable of free will, the literal embodiment of divine obedience!!! choosing to rebel. For one man. For Dean Winchester.

Think about it. Castiel wasn’t made to feel. He wasn’t made to question. He was made to serve, to follow heaven’s will without hesitation and then he meets Dean. He saves him from hell and in that moment, that exact fucking moment, his entire purpose shifts. Dean didn’t just change his mind cause we are not talking about another mortal being. He changed his entire fucking existence.

And here’s the kicker of it all. God, the all-knowing, all-powerful storyteller, couldn’t stop it. God, who controlled the narrative, who created Castiel and set the rules of the universe, couldn’t stop him from falling. Cas didn’t just disobey orders!!!!!!! He shattered the divine design. He looked at Heaven, at the eternity he was promised and said, "No. I choose him." Insane.

Do you understand how fucking huge that is? This isn’t a simple love story. This is cosmic rebellion and the writers couldn’t even grasp the insanity of what they created for a CW show.

It’s tragic and overwhelming because Cas didn’t fall in love with Dean for any selfish reasons. He didn’t want anything back. He didn’t expect Dean to love him, didn’t need his affection or validation. He never got to touch him or kiss him or get the "I love you too" that all of us wanted to hear. He just wanted to be near him. To help him. To save him, over and over, to make sure that Dean knew that he had someone who was looking after him.

And the cost? It was everything and people just brush over that.

Cas gave up Heaven. He gave up grace. He gave up the safety of eternity and purpose to stay in Dean’s proximity. Not because he was destined to, not because God told him to but because he *chose* to. That’s what makes it so tragic. It wasn’t written. It wasn’t meant to happen. Castiel broke the rules of his existence for someone who didn’t even realise the depth of it until it was too late.

Then THAT moment. When Cas says, "You changed me, Dean." It just hits different, doesn’t it??? Cause it’s not just a love confession. it’s a revelation. He confirms it right there that it was Dean's humanity that did it. Not some grand cosmic force, not some divine intervention. Dean himself, in all his flawed, beautiful, self-sacrificial mess, changed everything.

Dean, who always put others before himself, who had to raise himself, who gave everything to Sam and kept nothing for him. Dean, who was destined to always be second, to always sacrifice his own needs for someone else. Dean, whose car that he loved so much, his only constant, even that belonged to his father. Dean, whose clothes were probably second-hand, whose childhood was spent taking care of his little brother. Dean, whose purpose was always for the world, for the greater good and never for himself.

For the first time, Dean had something that was his. Something that wasn’t meant for anyone but him. Cas was HIS. Not for God, not for his father, not for Sam or the world.

This isn’t just a story about love!!! It’s *the* story about love. It’s messy and painful and romantic in the most devastating way cause Cas didn’t just rebel against heaven, people!!! He rewrote the entire concept of free will, of devotion, of sacrifice!!!!

He loved Dean with everything he was and that love was strong enough to defy God himself.

It’s the greatest, most tragic, most insane fictional story of our lifetime. Nothing will ever come close.

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Din Djarin cock worship drabble (din djarin x you)

pairing: din djarin x f!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, (assumed age gap maybe???), the armour stays on except for when din eats pussy (which is 24/7 in this universe), overstimulation wc: 1.4K a/n: hello lovelies, this is just a part of something that has been cooking in my brain for the last week. I was ignoring my schoolwork and other responsibilities as usual and rewatching mando, and just thinking about how that modulated rasp makes me melt, and how I would give anything to tie Din Djarin up and suck the soul out of him to hear those moans. that man deserves his cock to be worshipped, and I think about that on the daily tbh . this is unfinished but i hope to complete it this weekend!

Impenetrable beskar steel forged under sweltering heat that could rival Tattooine’s binary suns. Stealthy, calculated, choreographed skills of a warrior, so innate to his being, an exoskeleton similar to the armour he wore.  An unshakeable creed that represented devotion, honour, humility, and strength.

Powerful, weathered strength. Strength that shouldered hundreds of bounties, countless days of survival in the harshest planets, and so many physical injuries he’s lost count at this point.   

Din Djarin was a humble man. He never boasted his abilities or displayed a cocky nature. He had no reason to. Growing up in the covert, competing drills and sparring with other Mandalorians, he let his combat skills speak for himself as opposed to his words. Din would never deny his strength however. He knew he was strong, despite his age, and despite the aches and pains that permeated his body after each hunt. It was a quality that he could always pride himself on- at least that’s what he thought up until this point. Until he met you.

It turns out the stoic facade of strength that the hardened warrior so heavily relied on, crumbled the instant you could get your hands on him. Well, your hands and your mouth. 

Nearly 3 months had passed since you joined the mandalorian And the child. Three months since you offered your skills to help him with his bounties and take care of the child when he was off on his hunts. 3 months since your relationship progressed from just ship mates and acquaintances coexisting in solitude and monosyllabic answers, to partners that shared each others bed every night. A cacophony of grunts and deep groans to catch your breathless whimpers and keening whines filling the hull of the razor crest. 

You soon learned how much of a pleasure dom that mando was. Well, Din to you, now that he had entrusted you with his name. Once he learned what made you tick, what made you scream out his name as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, he was fucking insatiable.

Most nights he wouldn’t fuck you until he made you cum on his tongue or his fingers at least twice. And even then you’d be a mess. Squirming and sobbing as you pushed his head off your dripping sensitive cunt. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, you could feel the heat rolling off his broad body as he caged you against the bed.

“It’s okay, you can take it cyar’ika,” he would coo at you as he fed his thick cock into your warm wet heat. “Need this tight pussy nice and wet before I stretch you out on my cock.” 

You never lasted long, your orgasm crashing over you as you pulse around his length, writhing into the bed sheets. 

He reveled in being able to take you apart. Pushing you to the limits of your pleasure that it almost became painful. He fed off of it. 

It was rare however, that Din ever let you return the favor. Whenever you attempted to take him into your mouth, to show him your desire and appreciation, he would bat your hands away. Or he would only let you taste him for a minute or two before he’d manhandle you back onto the bed, legs spread by his massive palms, as he beheld you like a deity he wanted to worship over several lifetimes. His ferocity to have you usually outweighed his usual firm patience. 

You doubted that you were bad at giving head or that he didn’t enjoy it. Din was vocal, that much you were surprised to learn. As vocal as that modulator in his helmet would allow. Nothing rivaled the groans and curses you were rewarded with as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, eyes never straining from the T of his visor, taking him deep in your mouth, sucking on the head. You could only bask in the glow of his praise and delicious sounds for so long before Din became impatient and hauled you off his cock, the desire to be deep inside your warm wet heat his sole focus. “Need to have you now meshla,” he groaned, “can’t fucking wait any longer.”

Tonight would be different, you thought to yourself earlier that day as you watched Din stroll down the ramp of the Razorcrest, eager to begin his hunt for the next quarry. You had landed on Trandosha near dawn, and while the lush landscape of the planet appeared inviting Din had made it clear that you and the child couldn’t explore while he was gone.

“The quarry hasn’t exactly been covert about laying low, so it shouldn’t take long to track him down.” He explained as he restocked his munition and triple checked his weapons. 

Something about the methodical, almost choreographed manner in the way he loaded the pulse rifle bullets in his bandolier, reloaded his blaster, secured his vibroblade on the inside of his boot made you ridiculously horny. Watching the weathered faded leather of his gloves, caress the barrel of the rifle, mold around the handle of the blaster, those same gloves that molded to the curves of your body. You felt your throat go dry as he kept talking.

“Are you listening cyar’ika?”

Two leather clad fingers settled underneath your chin, urging it upwards to meet his visor.

“Huh?”

His helmet tilted to the side ever so slightly as he appraised your glossed over gaze, not before letting out one of those deep sighs that you had come to know and love. 

“No leaving the ship while I’m gone, under any circumstances. Got it?” The fingers under your chin shifted as his hand curled around the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently over your jaw.

“Trandosha may be a decent planet but Trandoshans are ruthless hunters, and they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to capture a sweet thing like you, or the child.”

The thought didn’t scare you. Having been around Trandoshans before, you knew they were cunning hunters, but the large reptilian species were slow on foot and clumsy with weaponry. They were nothing in comparison to Din’s prowess and perfected combat skills. 

Humming in response, you walk your fingers up the cool beskar of his chest plate, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good thing I am traveling with one of the most ruthless and equally feared bounty hunters in the galaxy hmm?”

Burying your fingers in the curls peeking out from underneath his helmet and tugging slightly, you reveled in the shaky exhale he let out. 

He leaned down, resting the forehead of his helmet against yours.  A quiet rumble leaving the depths of his broad chest. 

“Ruthless huh?” His strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad body. You basked in the warmth emanating off his armour. While he appeared a mountain of metal, it sent a thrill through you upon feeling the humanity coursing through his body, the life exuding from underneath his beskar shell.

“Yes Din.” You replied with a smirk as you arched your back, smushing your breasts against the cool, hard angles of the chest plate.

“Ruthless in catching your bounties, ruthless in destroying your enemies,” you look up at him from under your lashes, “ruthless when you fuck my pussy and make me cum so many times I lost count.”

He lets out a noise, between a groan and a growl, as his hands slithered down to grip your ass, tightly cupping your ass cheeks, trying to pull you impossibly closer than you already were. It wasn’t enough to be pressed up against you, he needed to be inside you. That much was evident as you felt the hard outline of his cock, nudging against your lower belly. 

“Damn fucking right I am. That tight little pussy is mine.”

It was your turn to shiver as your eyes fell shut and you bit your lip. Stars, the power that this man had over you. How he was able to make you fall apart with just his words, that filthy fucking mouth hidden underneath his unreadable halo of steel.

He leaned down till the helm of his helmet was beside your ear. “No leaving the ship,” he repeated in that delicious rasp. “I’ll be back soon okay?”

Little did Din know the surprise you had in store for him later.

[missameliep]

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 2 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Arwen (MC - F!Elf)

Summary: How can trust be forged? At the Wraith's deck, Arwen and Tyril have a conversation under the stars.

Word count: ~3.000

Rating: G

Notes:

* English is not my native language;

* Characters belong to PixelBerry;

* This takes place between chapters 6 and 7 from Blades of Light and Shadow - Book 1.

This is my submission to @choicesaugustchallenge hosted by the lovely @lilyoffandoms - Day 10: late night talking under the stars

At the deck of the ship, Imtura was on her natural environment. Not a member of the pirate crew would dare blink at one of the instructions the captain shouted.  

The Wraith’s sails, filled with a fair wind, spread like wings, taking them away from those cursed islands until they vanished. The sunrays peppered the waters with a shimmer that rivaled the fae fishes’ glow, and there was so much beauty in the world one could risk forgetting the dangers lurking not only in the shadows. 

The waves were like mischievous kids, crashing against the hull and spreading a salty misty all over the deck, heaving the ship high into the air just to let it fall and catch it once more.

The motion was harsher than she’d like, however Arwen was confident. Confident the ship would carry them to the shore no matter the weather. A confidence born from the faith on Imtura’s abilities and determination to find the missing shards and bring Kade back.  

The challenges faced were enough to seal the bond and she came to trust not only her, but all the companions – even if the feeling might not be mutual when it comes to one of them. Her gaze, like in so many occasions these past days, was instantly drawn to the other elf of the party, cleaning the blade of his sword at the opposite side of the deck.

With a heavy sigh, Arwen lets her head fall back on her crossed arms. Eyes on the blue sky and on the passing white clouds, she tries to relax, but her mind constantly drifts to the two shards inside her satchel. Two more to go. At least a week’s journey until Undermount after beaching.  

Hopefully, they’d find the next one there. 

Hopefully, she’d also find the answers to questions of a lifetime. Her heart races with the idea of finally be among her own people. Her people. What a change would it be! 

While the sun gently sinks on the horizon, its golden rays set the sky ablaze; the blue welcoming all shades of orange and red. 

The first star appears, and dusk announces the time of joyful songs, chatter and games. Bottles of the strong orcish ale are passed from hand to hand, while the sound of seagulls is replaced by extraordinary tales, laughter and music.   

The party of adventures eagerly joined the crew, except for Tyril, who does not seem to share the same enthusiasm or friendliness. The elf managed to keep himself the further away from the buzz without jumping ship. After days spent at the sea without a moment of quiet solitude, she supposes he’s reached some personal limit. 

While Threep was gnawing the third fish on a stick, Nia smiled listening to all sorts of anecdotes and jokes, blushing at the obscenities spilling from the sailors’ mouths and Mal’s as well. The man is not intimidated by the orcs towering over him and sat at the improvised table for a game of cards.  

Mal winked at Arwen when she caught a glimpse of one card tucked into his shirt, and she stifled a chuckle at his audacity or sheer recklessness before returning the gesture. Their flirtation, she notices, assumes more and more an air of camaraderie. 

Her contemplation is halted when the bench squeals with Imtura’s weight. The orc slumps beside Arwen with a smirk, gulps the ale and offers the bottle to the elf. 

“Enjoying the sail, landrat?” 

“I’ll be fine as long as there are no storm and no more grobtars,” Arwen quips.  

The orc let’s out a loud guffaw and with a massive hand pats her shoulder. “Worry not! Just good weather ahead. And trust me, if those grobtars know what’s best for them, they’ll avoid the Wraith for a long long time...” 

Besides them, the alcohol blushed Nia’s cheeks, and loosen Mal’s tongue, who shares the most passionate narratives about his deeds and conquers, who involves a lot of flirting his way out of trouble. 

“What’s wrong with that elf friend of yours?” Imtura asks, tilting her head in his direction. “Afraid of the sea, is he?” 

Arwen shrugs, unsure if the orc is concerned about Tyril or annoyed by his aloofness like the rest of the crew seems to be.  

Listening to the exchange, Nia suggests someone should invite him to join them for a cards game and cast a not-so-subtle look at Arwen. She wonders if Nia noticed the fleeting glances exchanged between the two or assumes she’s got a better chance at talking him into accepting the offer for being an elf herself. Either way, she accepts the challenge.  

Without a word, she takes the bottle, stands up and unconsciously rake her fingertips through her windblown hair, combing it back in place as much as possible. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath her feet when she approaches him, who glances over his shoulder acknowledging her presence. 

Tucking stray locks of his long hair behind an ear, his gaze follows her attentively, and by his expression and the absence of a scowl, she chooses to believe her company is a welcomed one.  

Tipping the bottle of ale at him, he purses his lips and shakes his head.  

“My senses must be sharp.” 

“Imtura says we can expect nothing but good weather,” she replies leaning against the railing beside him, but keeping some respectful distance. 

“The sea is untrustworthy,” Tyril confides.  

There’s bitterness when the elf utters the last word that is not missed by her keen senses. After the past days of companionship and fighting side by side, she hoped his opinion of the party would have changed for the better. Or mostly, his opinion of her.  

“Is it only the sea you do not trust?” she asks and grimaces after gulping the strong ale. 

Mulling at her words, he fixed his gaze at the starry sky. 

“Have you ever seen a swordsmith working?” 

Even though it was an unusual question, Arwen confirmed she had seen many times the blacksmith at Riverbend forging all sorts of objects. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the heat in the air and hear the clang of metal on metal. 

“The craftmanship requires not only strength, but mostly diligence and a great dose of patience. The swordsmith cannot hurry the process otherwise the blade might flake and shatter… Trust, I’ve learnt, must be forged like a sword. And one cannot be certain it is perfected and will withstand until it’s drawn and tested. Peace is not a good test for a sword, like a smooth sea does not make a skilful sailor,” he concluded in his grave tone without meeting her eyes. 

“Trust, friendship and loyalty, I believe, can be forged by different and unexpected means.”  

Her statement is met by a quizzical stare that lingers far too long to be ignored.  

“You think I am naïve.” Her words break the heavy silence that fell upon them. 

Something crosses Tyril’s face, and he shakes his head to deny her assumption.  

“I do not, but...”  

There’s a long pause and she struggles to not fill the silence.  

His gaze flicks from her face to the infinite dark sea surrounding them, and she almost expects him not to complete the sentence. But he speaks again and when he does, his words are drowning in sorrow. “If you freely offer your trust to the undeserving of such gift, they’ll take it for granted and won’t hesitate before stabbing your back...” 

His body has become so rigid with tension that if not for his long raven strands blown by the salty breeze one could mistake him with a statue. While he stares at the sky, she wonders which kind of betrayal stole his faith in others. 

“What do you suggest then? Should I mistrust everyone including yourself?”  

Her questioning sound a lot like teasing, which partly is her intention to try and light the mood. However, judging by the seriousness of his expression contemplating the sky as if the answer could be hidden among the stars, he considers it worthy of a genuine answer. 

“Trust no one outside your house.” He pauses and his gaze turns away from the sky to meet hers. “I learned it from my father once I was old enough to stand on my own feet. Your house and your blood – those are the sole things that matter and upon which you can rely on...” His face remains impassive, but his voice wavers with emotion and she struggles to control the urge to reach for his hand. “I suggest you consider the advice from someone who’s seen what happens if one loses sight of that...” 

Sipping the ale, she cast a longing glance at the sea and thinks of her life at the nurturing community of Riverbend. Such a long way from where they are now! Her thoughts return to Kade, her only family. His blood is not her blood, but her fate and his are the same. They were united to share the kind of sincere love that would take either of them to the ends of the earth to save the other, just like she is doing now. 

“Not some advice easily taken...” she mutters the words hoping they’d disappear into the throat of the bottle. “Not when you’re twice orphaned....”

His eyes widened for the briefest moment, a glimpse of sorrow crossing them, before he uttered an attempt to apologise in what she assumes is part of Undermount’s fine etiquette.  

“It was a long time ago...” she dismisses with a forced smile, despite the hollow in her chest that aches more frequently than she would let anyone suspect. “With no house to have my back... I guess my experience and perspective on the matter might be a little different from yours...”  

He nods, and his gaze contemplates her face until he averts his eyes. “I suppose.”  

She releases a breath, thankful he does not press on.  

When she looks back at him, Tyril’s chin tilted up, exposing his elegant long neck, and his gaze is fixed on the stars again.  

Maybe he’ll speak of the constellations, she hopes; maybe he’s lost in thoughts that are not meant to be shared with her, which would be less desirable. Her heart aches, fearing to have this moment abbreviated. 

Arwen takes another swig at the ale, building the courage to bring another topic and encourage him to maybe speak more of himself. She doesn’t exactly know why, but she craves to learn more... Probably because he’s an elf and holds the knowledge she so long desired; or maybe that’s just what she keeps telling herself to not think about the other reason for her eagerness... 

She licks her lips, and a warm smile curls them.   

“May I ask you a question?”  

His long black hair sways when his head turns, and his eyes return to her face. It’s difficult to determine if it’s the sight of him and his piercing eyes or the sea that makes her sway gently. 

“Are you a poet, Lord Tyril of Undermount?” 

“Excuse me?”  

“A poet,” the words slowly roll from her tongue.  

“You mock me?” he scowls, and she stifles a giggle. 

His face is always ready to respond with indignation, as if expecting to always meet the worst in those around him. It’s amusing, but also makes her wonder the depths of the loneliness this mindset brings. The frown is back, and she'd like to erase it with a kiss, right between his eyebrows, to help erase whatever poisons his mind.   

“Mock you? Absolutely not,” she stresses the negative word and heaves her hands in theatrical surrender, unable to supress the grin parting her lips. “I’d never dare mock someone who could slice me in half like butter and not break a sweat!” And look like a gorgeous angel of death while doing so...  

“I’d never draw my sword against you!” his response is quick and apparently more truthful than he intended.

The butterflies on her stomach almost flee through her mouth, taking her voice away with them, but she whispers, “You wouldn’t?”

He coughs and covers his mouth.  

“Don’t be absurd!” he scoffs. “Everyone knows that is not the appropriate punishment for mockery and slander according to the elven code!” 

“Oh, right,” she utters with sheer disappointment. 

The graveness of his expression gives way to the slightest twitch of his lips, and that’s when she sees it: the small, almost imperceptible smile, and the glint of mischief in his eyes.  

She gasps, “Was that... a joke?” 

“Everybody knows I do not joke about such matters. Or any matter at all.” His face is still quite serious, but his voice not so much. It wavers as if he's struggling to contain the laughter bubbling inside. What would it take for him to let it out? “Beware, if you sustain those false accusations, you might face time in the dungeon...”

“Oh! We don’t want that, do we?” she teases.

The amusement reaches the corners of his eyes. 

“Wow! You cracked a joke and evaded the question... I’m impressed, Tyril!” 

“Ludicrous allegations are not worthy a rebuttal,” he finally says, his words coated by a lilt of a laugh and his lips slightly curled at the corners. But it isn’t enough. She needs to see him smiling, unabashedly baring his teeth, cackling with her... so relaxed that his beautiful blue skin would be freed of the soft lines marking the area in between his eyebrows.

“Too late! I already have evidence.”

“Evidence?” he echoes.

Grinning, Arwen moves a little closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

“The sword was a good metaphor. Fits a trained warrior like yourself, but hints you got the heart of a poet hidden in there…” She points at his chest, and his eyes narrow, but not in a menacingly way; there’s a hint of amazement at the gesture. When one of her fingertips lightly touches the armour over his heart, Tyril visibly swallows, despite not drinking anything. 

A teasing smile plays on her lips, appreciating the way his cheeks have darkened again, tinting themselves in that lovely shade of lavender she’s fascinated with. Would his cheeks be soft and warm against her fingers? 

“And since you did not deny my assumption, from now on, I’ll be picturing you writing poetry late at night, pen in hand, eyes squinted in concentration... Warrior by day, poet by night...” 

He takes a deep breath and a step away from her, then sharp words fly from his tongue, “How could I make time for poetry when the Shadow Court is spreading their corruption in these lands? Endangering the entire world? I could never waste precious time with such frivolity!” 

“Can’t you do both?” Her lips roll inside her mouth, and she moistens them, giving them both time to contemplate the idea. “Can’t you allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the beauty in the world, love and whatever else moves you... without losing sight of your quest? I believe it can be a motivating force to achieve greater things...” 

“You assume much about myself, including that I would have any talent for poetry...” 

“I’m certain you do, and I envy you.”  

A wistful smile curls her lips when she remembers the first time she saw the sea at Port Parnassus, the way her heart filled with so much joy and craved to have Kade’s talents and compose a song to immortalize that feeling, to share it with him once they are reunited.  

“When I first saw the sea, I was just...Wow!” She waved her hands to try and convey all that excitment. “My first thought when my brain stopped screeching was 'Gods, I wish Kade was here!'” She takes a deep breath, and leans forward, letting both her elbows rest on the railing, the bottle held close against to her chest. “If he were there, he'd have the perfect words... and five minutes later he'd pop a new song and just capture that moment... you know? But he was not there... I was and it seemed like a waste of prettiness... What will I tell him?” She shrugged. “The sea was huge... and blue... and... I don’t do metaphors! And I'm physically uncapable of rhyming!” 

“Maybe you underestimate your capabilities...” he said softly when she stopped rambling.

The bottle almost plummeted into the dark waters, and she took it to her lips once more, before speaking again.

“Kade is the storyteller, the singer... My talent with words is from an entirely different nature.” She winked at him to make sure he understood what she meant by that, and he looked away, which usually is not what happen when she does that with her charming smile.

“Hey! Kit, are you and Elf boy coming over or what?” Mal question rings in the air and she’s reminded of what she came to do in the first place.  

“Would you like to join us? We’re playing cards, sharing tales…” 

A mere glance at the groups, and the crease between his eyebrows returns and looks even deeper than before.  

She risks a pat on his arm, and says softly, “The swordsmith needs something to work on...”  

Tyril’s eyes flick to her face, and his reluctance slowly vanishes. With a nod, he accepts the suggestion and follows her towards the improvised table. 

“Oh, look!” Nia cries, “How fortunate! Mal was about to tell us of the encounter with Duke Erthax!” 

“Listen closely, elf boy, you can learn a thing or two!” 

Tyril halts and Arwen looks over her shoulder.  

“Does your party really requires a thief?”  

“We’ve been through this,” she huffs amused, “you cannot throw Mal overboard.” 

The elf sighs.  

“May I?” Tyril asks, pointing at the bottle, and she hands it. The elf coughs loudly after taking a swig not anticipating the pungent taste, drawing the attention of the group who failed at pretending not to pay attention at the two of them. 

“It’ll get better.” She pats his arm lightly. 

“The taste?” he snorts. “I highly doubt that!” 

“Everything.” She winks and receives the bottle from Tyril’s hand.  

When he crosses the last steps and takes a seat with the others, she smiles to herself, celebrating this small victory, anticipating the others certainly to come. 

[theotterpenguin]

what’s your take on zutara being “you’re the wind, i’m in the water”. i’ve heard k@t@@ngs saying it’s clearly about their ship bc their elements are air and water but isn’t that a very surface level of understanding of the lyrics?

anon, i adore you for this ask because i love chemtrails over the country club (and lana's music in general).

i'm not surprised that people would try to apply this song to katara and aang because yes, at a surface level it's relevant to them for obvious reasons (water vs. wind), but i agree that the lyrics have far more depth than this.

first, we have to look at the context of the lyrics within the song. "you're in the wind, i'm in the water" presents a romanticized view of the separation of two lovers, just as the two elements brush past each other but never become one. this theme of separation is seen throughout the rest of the song as lana contrasts the privileged bubble of suburbia with the harsh reality of society, the darkness lurking behind a beautiful front.

likewise, zuko and katara have similar character arcs that revolve around an awakening to the harsh truths of society. zuko learns that the beauty and the power of the fire nation is just a facade, hiding the extreme cruelty of its colonialism and imperalism that has hurt all people (which goes hand-in-hand with zuko unlearning the abuse from his father, the personification of the fire nation itself). katara's arc involves a similar type of awakening, as she unlearns some of the dichotomous thinking she's held around the fire nation. her experiences with jet, hama, the sexism of the northern water tribe, the fire nation village in the painted lady, and even zuko show her the complexities of the war and teach her that people aren't always as simple as "good" or "evil." essentially, both zuko and katara undergo parallel character arcs that fundamentally change their worldview, reflective of the theme of chemtrails over the country club.

additionally, the "wind" and "water" that symbolize the separation of the two lovers in the song is also reminiscent of zuko and katara's journey - the two characters that have been pitted against each other from the beginning of the show, their opposing goals of protecting the avatar vs. capturing the avatar, daughter of the chieftain of the southern water tribe vs. prince of the fire nation, and the two characters that end every season finale in an climactic fight scene (first on opposing sides, then on the same side). and if you want an even more bittersweet perspective, there's also the fact that they are doomed by the narrative, two lovers who never end up together in this lifetime, fated to be separated.

if we want to look further into the song, i've also seen the lyric "nobody's son, nobody's daughter" being superficially applied to aang and katara as they have both experienced loss, but again, in the context of the actual show, it's katara and zuko who are repeatedly paralleled with this connection of losing their mothers and being separated from their fathers. katara discusses her grief over losing kya with haru, jet, and aang, but it's only her and zuko's connection over this that carries actual narrative weight in the story. and katara is the only person that zuko discusses the loss of his mother with. so it only makes sense that all of these narrative parallels culminate in the southern raiders, an episode vital to katara's character arc in which zuko is a crucial supporting character. you could also argue this ties in with the overall theme of separation in the song - being separated from your parentage and having to forge your own path.

finally, as a fun little addition, one of the other lyrics in the song is "my moon's in leo, my cancer is sun." and hmm, who are the two characters we typically associate with the moon and sun? (hint: "you rise with the moon, i rise with the sun"). but wait - it goes even deeper than that. i am most definitely not an expert on zodiac signs, but according to some basic googling, leo (a fire element) is typically ruled by the sun, while cancer (a water element) is typically ruled by the moon. by switching up what elements we typically associate with the signs, lana is reflecting on the duality and the unpredictability of herself like how she reflects on the duality of society earlier in the song. and similarly, zuko and katara undergo dual character arcs bound by elemental symbolism. despite being a waterbender, katara also personifies the element of fire - the element of passion, power, and will - as she stands up against injustice and refuses to back down from a fight. and despite being a firebender, zuko's arc also personifies the element of water - the element of change and adaptability - as zuko's perception of himself, his father, and the fire nation changes over time. they are both water and fire, both moon and sun, both yin and yang.

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the second part to our protective Harry rec list! To check out the first part, click here. We hope you enjoy all of the amazing fics on this list and show them a lot of love. If you want our rec lists to continue, please like and reblog this post to help spread the word! Happy reading!

1) Your Sins, My Vices | Explicit | 12,582 words

Louis hates soulmates. Harry has waited his whole life for one.

2) You’re All I See In My Mind (I Think I See A Lifetime) | Explicit | 16,312 words

Kitten hybrid Louis gets kicked out of his house. With nowhere to go and a very cold and stormy weather outside, he ends up wandering into Harry’s shed to hide from the thunder and rain (he gets terrified by it). Harry hears crying from the shed so he goes to investigate.

3) A Little Bad Luck | Explicit | 17,237 words

"What the fuck do you mean, they quit?" Louis asks.

This man—demon, whatever—looks over at Louis with a withering glance before tossing the apple he's eating. It misses the trash can by about a foot, falling to the floor of Louis' kitchen and definitely leaving a sticky residue that he's going to have to clean up later.

"You kept getting yourself into trouble and their afterlife experience became too stressful, so they quit. After the fifth guardian angel quit their post last week, there were no other volunteers, so that's where I stepped in. I was getting bored of welcoming souls into hell anyway...they're so goddamn whiney, I'm always like, bro, just shut the fuck up—"

"So you're my guardian demon," Louis says flatly, cutting the demon/man/thing off before he can get any further.

He smiles largely enough to show dimples, which seem like a completely inappropriate thing for a demon to have.

"Exactly," the demon confirms.

4) Sweet Revelation, Bitter Wine | Explicit | 20,786 words

An enemies to lovers AU with Harry as the infuriating demon that activates Louis' demon slayer curse.

5) Thawing Permafrost | Explicit | 22,556 words

Louis is from the frozen mountains of Glacien. Harry is from the searing desert of Calidius. They come from opposite worlds, but all it takes is an arranged marriage to bring them together as one.

6) Never Been So Defenceless | Mature | 23,333 words

Harry always thought he’d falter in the face of danger, because no one can ever be truly ready to see their loved one in danger. Even with the warning that’s literally inked into his skin, all the training Harry’s done, and all the hours he’s spent in the gym, nothing could’ve prepared him for how it feels to look up and see the glint of a knife under the streetlights.

7) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34,589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

8) Spoonful of Sugar | Explicit | 42,900 words

Note; This fic is the sequel to this fic.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

9) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves.

Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

10) If You're Out There (I'll Find You Somehow) | Explicit | 55,916 words

Harry looks so intensely into Louis’ eyes it’s as though he’s reaching in and touching his very soul. “I never thought… I never… I’ve been searching for so long, Louis, but I never gave up. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop trying,” Harry says, bottom lip trembling as he strokes the backs of Louis’ knuckles. “I just knew that if you were out there, I’d find you somehow.”

11) Just A Flicker In The Dark | Explicit | 57,204 words

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

12) From Chaos | Explicit | 62,764 words

Tale as old as time, a villain falls in love with an already taken hero who only wants to kill him.

13) I've Got You | Explicit | 62,988 words

As a reward for saving the king's life, Harry is offered omega Prince Louis' hand in marriage. Neither of them has any interest in the union going forward, and so they concoct a plan to prove to the king that they are far from a perfect match.

14) Crowded Town Or Silent Bed, Pick A Place To Rest Your Head | Explicit | 63,577 words

“Poem. I made you a poem.”

“Oh yeah? Can I hear your poem?” Louis turns on the car and exits the school building.

“Wait.” Louis takes a glance and sees his daughter struggle to open her bag, strained thanks to the safety belt. “Aha!” She shouts when she finally finds the wrinkled paper. She clears her throat dramatically. “My mama is cool, because one day he took me to the pool. My mama is beautiful, and I feel grateful. My mama is pocketful, because his pocket is always full.”

Louis ruffles Chrys’ hair making the green-eyed kid groan and swat his hand away.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Louis’ voice is soft.

“Well, duh. You’re the most beautiful person on Earth, mama.” She pauses for a moment. “Although, Uncle Zayn is beautiful too. But, still, you’re the most beautifulest.” She grins.

Louis’ heart clenches at that. Not because she just said he’s the most beautiful person in the world. But, because of the way she said it. Awfully similar to the other person who has the same green eyes as her. And the way she grins after that, identical.

15) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68,210 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

16) Lost & Found In Oblivion | Explicit | 74,779 words

Omega Louis decided to hire an alpha for his heat to ease his touch deprivation, but little did he know everything would grow into so much more.

17) Strawberries & Cigarettes | Explicit | 76,763 words

Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

18) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100,707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them.

Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one.

Until two terrible truths are revealed.

One, he's adopted.

Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers.

19) Among the Humans | Explicit | 129,435 words

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

20) Love Me Until The End | Mature | 207,130 words

AU where Louis, an Omega, is the head nurse of the hospital in charge of running the nursing staff. Harry, an Alpha, is a highly respected surgeon working at the same hospital. They also happen to fall in love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[taintedsoul-if]

idk if you posted those prompts for people to ask or not lol buuuut if you did.....c-can i get "You are too beautiful for me. *starts crying for Cadmus (like said by mc to him) if thats ok owo

Cadmus × MC

One stupid argument, and the weight of regret settled upon you. The words you spoke, the emotions you unleashed, lingered like a haunting melody. You knew, that this outburst was a cry of old wounds, a fear of being left behind. In the past, love had been a scarce haven, and now, to be embraced without condition, without needing to hide or pretend, stirred a discomfort within.

Your thumb twirled in restless rhythm as you gazed back at the study, the crime scene of your recent emotional storm. Ten minutes had passed since you fled, yet the memory of Cadmus's patient eyes still haunted you. His calm demeanor had only amplified your own sense of turmoil, making you feel like a wild, untamed creature, ranting without reason.

The more you argued, the more you felt like a ship lost at sea, helpless and adrift. And now, as you stood there, unsure of what had sparked your ire, a single thought echoed through your mind.

Why do you love me so? How could someone as flawed as I be worthy of your unwavering devotion? Just then, strong arms enveloped you, and your body surrendered to their warmth, melting into the embrace like a flower yielding to the sun.

Your heart ached to hide in the sanctuary of his chest, to escape the turmoil that had taken hold. But the words you'd spoken couldn't be unsaid, and the weight of your own doubts and fears had already condemned this love to ruin. You were a tangled web of emotions, a mess of contradictions, and it seemed the only way to untangle the knot was to sever the threads that bound you together.

Yet, as you opened your mouth to repeat the words that would drive him away, "Say one more thing about breaking up, I dare you," Cadmus's whispered challenge caressed your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. The gentle menace in his voice was a spark that reignited the flame of your desire.

"Without you, my existence is a hollow shell, a mere whisper of a life unlived," Cadmus's said, his words a gentle caress to your soul. He turned you to face him, and took your hand, pressing it against his chest. "Can you feel our bond?" he murmured, his voice soft and husky. "A connection forged in the depths of our souls, a union that has spanned lifetimes, not just mere years?" The warmth of his touch seeped into yours.

As his words pierced the veil of your soul, you finally found the courage to meet his gaze. Cadmus's vermilion eyes, like two burning embers, blazed with a depth of longing, remorse, and love that left you breathless. The raw emotions that danced in their depths were a siren's call, drawing you in with an otherworldly allure.

Your hands trembled as you reached out to cradle his face, as if tracing the contours of a divine sculpture. "You are too beautiful for me," you whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession, a truth you'd long kept hidden. The beauty that shone from within him, a radiance that illuminated every dark corner of your heart, had captivated you, body and soul.

[ravelights]

Yeah “Fated to be” ships are fun and all, but it doesn’t hold a candle to “Fate be damned” ships. We are not the sun and moon, immortal and divine. We are the water and wind, unpredictable and forever changing. We should not work together, but we do, because we are as alike as we are different. “I’m with you in every universe” means nothing next to, “I don’t care if in every universe we never meet, I will love you in this one because we have”. Love me now, because we only have one lifetime together, who we were and will be means nothing to who we are in this moment. We are not soulmates, we have worked for our love, changed and grown together. Our bond is forged, not given.

Our love is fated to be, written in the stars and foretold by gods? No.

Our love defies the gods and stars, and we will carve out a spot in the galaxy, just for the two of us.

For our love is wanted, not needed.

[kalevalakryze]

A Moment Of Peace

Original Pairing: bo-katan kryze / the armorer Warnings: the Mandalorian season 3 spoilers, descriptions of injury, and inaccurate medical jargon. Notes: Hello! This is a rewrite of the very first creative piece I’ve ever written, originally published to Tumblr on April 28th, 2023! To celebrate my one-year anniversary of writing, I’ve decided to take everything I’ve learned and put it into this fic to study in depth how I’ve grown! Thank you so much to everyone who’s taken this journey with me, seen me through unfinished multi-chapters and too many events at once, and to all the Discord servers that have helped keep me going with so much inspiration. I’ve grown a lot as a person and as a writer, I think, in this short time, and I can’t wait to see what next year brings (fingers crossed it brings some update energy, welcome to the family is collecting DUST, my poor baby). Anyways, there really isn't enough space in the world to call out the thanks to everyone who's helped me get this farm so group shoutout; The LesBo-Katan server, the Shin Tano server, Wolfwren Enthusiasts, Pathfinder's (Forge!) Steel & Rev, Dax, Sammy; Everyone who's helped me get here, I really just love you all sooooo much! Here's to the next hundred, right?

Summary: Mandalore has been returned to the people at last, though it came at a cost. There were wounds to lick, anxieties to heal, and graves to dig... But perhaps, they could allow themselves at least one night of calm.

Wood crackled in the bonfire, embers shooting from the mix of tinder and logs crammed into the dug-up hole. Smog hung thick over the Mandalorians as they rested, though the anxiety amongst each of them hung thicker, tension that felt ready to snap and drop the veil at any moment. Peace resided amongst their people for the first time in what had to be decades, so alike and so different. Predators and Prey trapped in one body, given a chance to be just Mandalorian, in each of their own respective ways.

There was no segregation in the many different campfires that roared across Mandalore’s wartorn surface, Niteowls, Bounty Hunters, and Children of the Watch all gathered in whichever direction had the most warmth to stave off the cold night. Alcohol flowed, and some groups grew rowdy with song and drink, their tay’gehaase gathering to write the tales of the victory into a song that would surpass any of their lifetimes. 

Medics glided across their people, giving out supplies to the covert, and helping those that would allow them a glimpse of the damage the battle had caused, armor and flesh dented, cracked, and bruised under their efforts. 

Despite their victory, many Mandalorians still looked to the sky, waiting for the cruisers to appear, parting the storms above to rain the hells upon them all once again. 

Several gunships stayed docked far from their people, far enough that Lady Bo-Katan of House Kryze could only hear the barking of laughter and the roar of raised voices if she listened closely through the lowered ramp of her kom’rk. The entire ship was dimmed to ease her overstimulated mind, emergency lights only just barely offering her a sense of direction as muscle memory guided the woman through what was effectively, the only home she hadn’t managed to destroy.

It was almost comical; Here she was, the woman who reunited their people, who found the middle ground for them all, and helped regain what they all believed to be lost forever, the woman who learned to preach togetherness and community… running off to lick her wounds, alone.

Her armor had been stripped in a messy fashion, the burn of broken bones and scorched skin leaving her no choice but to allow the ancient beskar to fall when she managed to unhook it from its tethers. She was helpless in removing most of the pieces herself, resorting to rather unorthodox methods to strip what she could as she tumbled to the folded-down cot in the cockpit.

The small pouch of medical supplies was spilled across the cot, bacta pouches half torn open, medical salve oozing against the thin sheets where they lay, forgotten in lieu of pulling at the straps to her gauntlets with her teeth, Frustration swelled inside her chest as she tried to pull off her vambrace with her teeth, hissed curses in Mando'a filling the cabin as she failed again and again.

She’d been so preoccupied in the hailstorm of foul language and the swirling tornado of self-deprecation that she hadn’t heard the quiet footsteps that ascended hr ramp, deafened by the way each inhale came in the form of a pained hiss sucked between her teeth. Every twist of her body as she worked in vain at another strap only succeeded in bringing her attention back to the tidal waves of pain that radiated from her battered midsection. Her armor had prevented the worst of Gideon’s blows from breaking skin, but it had done nothing against the way the energy had transferred, marring her skin in hideous blossoms of blues and greens, vessels broken behind pale skin in a morbid display of art. 

She shouldn’t have been caught so unprepared, should have noticed in seconds that she was no longer alone- Mistakes like this caught warriors their lives, a lesson she’d learned the hard way long ago. If she’d have been anywhere else, even with her own Niteowls, they would have taken the jump to attack, just as she’d trained them to. 

The Armorer however, did not attack. Red and gold stepped further into the interior, presence silent, strong, commanding attention even as broad shoulders hunched to find space in the small alcove the cot was nestled into. The vastness of the woman’s visor stared at her, and Bo-Katan had to look away, unwilling to catch her reflection in the mirrored surface while her own face was bare. 

Something about the Armorer eased the tension in her shoulders, and Bo-Katan could feel the way her jaw unclenched even just being permitted to be in the Prietess’s presence. Neither woman spoke, and for a moment, neither moved, content to breathe the same air and to allow the rising and falling of their chests to test the tension in the room.

The Armorer closed the distance at last, stepping all the way into the redhead’s space as the skin between dark brows creased. “Armor can protect so much,” She spoke at last, watching as freckle-kissed cheeks darkened, either in embarrassment from being found half undressed, or in her entire predicament of needing help; neither could truly tell. “But there is always a price.” Gloved hands moved to take Bo-Katan’s in a gentle grasp, more careful with the shattered remains of her right hand than one would be with a newly-born Strill. Another sharp inhale, tears stinging at tired eyes as she was moved, the light catching the mess of a warped hand plate and bone protruding morbidly from her glove. “It protects us from everything but ourselves.” 

Green eyes tore away from the sight of bruised skin being cradled in dark gloves, finding a point in the durasteel of the interior of the ship, a green blinking light catching her eye. There was a rustle of fabric as her hands were shifted, though it was the warm press of skin into her wrist that warned her not to look- Alertness shot through her body like a wildfire as her eyes snapped to a scuff amongst the durasteel walls, each bump and bruise ignited along the path of blood in her veins, and yet, she could only focus on the feeling of rough callouses as they danced across her skin like she was something special.

The coolness of the bacta salve being eased into her skin was almost enough to coerce her into following that traitorous thought to peek. The Armorer treated her as if she was deserving of gentle touches, and for once, Bo-Katan Kryze could not find the energy or the heart to try to convince the woman otherwise. The biocast was pulled from the packaging carefully, though Bo-Katan could not find it in her to pay attention, even as bone shifted to mold into the cast’s settings- She couldn’t feel the sting of pain from her hand being moved around, in fact, all she could feel was the warm tingle of listlessness- When did the Armorer drug her, and why wasn’t she upset about it? The empty hypo-spray canister sat off to the side with the various odds and ends from the medkit, though focusing her gaze on reading the aurebesh. 

“Did you… drug me?” She blinked slowly, just barely catching the way warm ebony skin wrapped bandages along her hand, securing the biocast in place and adding an extra layer of protection. 

She was met with a silent stare… or… what she could assume was such from the empty reflection in a dark visor. Their communication seemed otherworldly as understanding settled past the haze of the meds; she would have done the same, were the roles reversed and a stubborn warrior needed care. Her head dipped in silent thanks, muscles relaxing under the influence, even as those careful hands reached beyond her wrists and began stripping away the remnants of her armor. 

Beskar gave willingly under her touch, set aside much neater than the Mand’alor would have been able to remove it. An Armorer’s hands were always something to be glorified, they took things damaged beyond repair and molded them into something useful, made them into more than what they were. Bo-Katan Kryze was born in the flames of war, damaged in countless battles, and had found herself at the smith’s forge since the day Din Djarin led her to his people, redeemed, and on the path to reconstruction.  

This time around, she didn’t feel as bare as when she’d been ordered to remove her helmet. An emotion she didn’t know how to place sat heavy in her chest where the fear of rejection once sat- A promise of comfort, that she would not be sent away from their home- her home, not just in the ruins of the planet around her, but in their people united. When deft fingers paused at the zipper of her flight suit, the redhead found her good hand sliding across warm skin. She did not remove the Armorer’s hand, but dragged the pad of her thumb against the bumps and ridges of scars, encouraging the other woman to guide the zip down.

Bo-Katan’s mouth went dry as cool air ignited across her skin. “Dank Farrik!” The Armorer breathed in a hiss through her helmet, both women entranced in the macabre display against almost anemic skin. Heavy fabric dropped against the cot with a thud as the Armorer leaned closer to study the damage. “You will need a proper healer for this, Lady Kryze.”

“Tomorrow… Just-” A pause as her head pressed forward, finding the warmth of the rough material of the Armorer’s flight suit, and the contrasting soft furs that brushed against her forehead. “Not right now…” Then, as if in afterthought. “Please.” 

The woman’s hand cradled the back of Bo-Katan’s head as the other continued the assessment of injuries. Her heart thundered beneath the Armorer’s touch against her chest, fingertips poking and prodding until even the haze of meds were ineffective in halting the way her weight shifted uncomfortably on the cot. “I will do what I can here-” Tired eyes fluttered, blinking through heavy lids to stare up at the hammered gold of the priestess’s helmet. 

Her breathing was too heavy, something she was becoming consciously aware of as fingers pressed worriedly around her pulse points. There was a wheeze to each breath as the other woman halted her movements against her flesh, reaching instead for bacta, and another hypospray to keep on standby. “Hurts.”  She’d rasped out as her senses came back to life. It only took so much poison resistance training before most stims were rendered useless in time… The pain was worth being captured, at least, not when she was actively suffering its consequences.

This time, she was all too aware of the prick of the needle pressing into her skin, though she took the release from the pain in stride, relaxing into the care of gentle hands once again as she struggled to find a rhythm to breathe with. The bacta was spread sparingly across her abdomen, with the Armorer working quickly and efficiently to cover the large surface area that the damage took up. 

It wasn't a perfect solution for her injuries, but they were all pretty limited in everything they could do, with the other injuries among the tribe and their scarce supplies. Bo-Katan stayed silent as her armor pieces were moved and the medkit was packed back up, warm hands returning to help guide her weight back into the thin pillows of the cot and the scratchy blanket to be pulled across bare skin, halting at her hips to allow the bacta on her stomach time to dry. She'd half expected the armorer to leave her to her misery, though was once again surprised as the other woman's weight settled beside her. The ship was soon filled once more with the sound of armor being removed and stacked neatly beside the cot, though she hadn't once heard the hiss of a helmet depressurizing. She could not fault the Armorer, she’d already shown the redhead more than she should have, according to Creed; and while the image of dark skin would forever be burned into her memory, she could not help but feel like guilt, the sacrilege of everything she’d done just to aid a Fallen Mandalorian Princess in the last hour. 

She could never ask the Armorer for more than she was given, deeming each interaction since Nevarro more than she could ever deserve, and she didn’t ask- Maybe, she thought as the Armorer’s arms encircled her waist, caging her close to her broad chest and allowing her neck to find the crook of her neck, offering up something so vital to one who had been an enemy for so long, maybe it was of the Armorer’s own needs that had the woman’s legs entwining with her own, and the protective way those strong arms kept her pressed into her warmth, even as they reached and the warm fur was dragged into the cot, tucked securely around her shoulders and offering warmth, even as the cool, recycled air of the ship tried to cut through the comfort.  There was no energy left but to allow herself this moment of peace; safe and cared for, repurposed not into a weapon, but a person, for what truly felt like the first time.

[richincolor]

New Releases

A whole bunch of books releasing today to get us ready for our summer beach reads. Which of these is on your list?

Hot Boy Summer by Joe Jiménez MTV Books

Mac has never really felt like he belonged. Definitely not at home—his dad’s politics and toxic masculinity make a real connection impossible. He thought he fit in on the baseball team, but that’s only because he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Finding his first gay friend, Cammy, was momentous; finally, he could be his authentic self around someone else. But as it turned out, not really. Cammy could be cruel, and his “advice” often came off way harsh. And then, Mac meets Flor, who shows him that you can be both fierce and kind, and Mikey, who is superhot and might maybe think the same about him. Over the course of one hot, life-changing summer, Mac will stand face-to-face with desire, betrayal, and letting go of shame, which will lead to some huge discoveries about the realness of truly belonging. Told in Mac’s infectious, joyful, gay AF voice, Hot Boy Summer serves a tale as important as hope four gay teens doing what they can to connect and have the fiercest summer of their lives. New friendships will be forged, hot boys will be kissed…and girl, the toxic will be detoxed.

Better Must Come by Desmond Hall Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books

Deja is a “barrel girl”—one of the Jamaican kids who get barrels full of clothes, food, and treats shipped to them from parents who have moved to the US or Canada to make more money. Gabriel is caught up in a gang and desperate for a way out. When he meets Deja at a party, he starts looking for a way into her life and wonders if they could be a part of each other’s futures. Then, one day while out fishing, Deja spies a go-fast boat stalled out by some rocks, smeared with blood. Inside, a badly wounded man thrusts a knapsack at her, begging her to deliver it to his original destination, and to not say a word. She binds his wounds, determines to send for help, and make good on her promise…not realizing that the bag is stuffed with $500,000 American. Not realizing that the posse Gabriel is in will stop at nothing to get their hands on this bag—or that Gabriel’s and her lives will intersect in ways neither ever imagined, as they both are forced to make split second choices to keep the ones they love most alive.

Bite Me, Royce Taslim by Lauren Ho Disney Hyperion

Agnes Chan never expected to be the punchline of her own life . . But how else do you explain getting accidentally run over and seeing a lifetime of careful preparation, endless training, and all your hopes of a track scholarship to college destroyed in a split second? Not to mention the only witness to your humiliation being your #1 archnemesis, Royce Taslim. So, when Agnes finds a new answer to her scholarship predicament in the form of an international stand-up comedy contest for teens, the last person she expects to be up against is also the last person she wants to - Royce. Because for years Royce has represented everything Agnes extreme privilege, popularity, and physical perfection (ok maybe she doesn’t hate that part so much). Behind the scenes, though, Royce’s flawless façade fades away, revealing someone Agnes never expected—someone who shows her that perhaps the best parts of life are the ones you aren’t prepared for—and as the competition heats up, so do things between these two rivals. But will the pressure to win be too much for them to handle—or will Agnes (and Royce) get the last laugh?

Spin of Fate (The Fifth Realm #1) by A.A. Vora G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers

The world is governed by Toranic Law, an ancient magical force that segregates people into upper and lower realms based on their morality. It’s said that if the sinful lowers commit themselves to kindness, their souls will lighten, allowing them into the blissful upper realms. But Aina, one of the few lowers to ever ascend, just wants to go back. Desperate to reunite with her mother, who remains stuck in their horror-infested homeland, Aina joins the Balancers—a group that defies Toranic Law by bringing aid to those condemned to a life of suffering in the lower realms. Alongside Aina are two new recruits: Aranel, a spoiled noble spying for the upper authorities; and Meizan, a ruthless fighter trying to save his clan from extinction. Before long, Aina, Aranel, and Meizan find themselves in the midst of a brewing war. On one side, a violent lower king is bent on destroying Toranic Law; on the other, the upper authorities will do anything to stay on top. The trio must face both sides head-on if they want to stop a conflict that could break not only Toranic Law… but the universe itself.

Death’s Country by R.M. Romero Peachtree Teen

Andres Santos of São Paulo was all swinging fists and firecracker fury, a foot soldier in the war between his parents. Until he drowned in the Tietê River… and made a bargain with Death for a new life. A year later, his parents have relocated the family to Miami, but their promises of a fresh start quickly dissolve in the summer heat. Instead of fists, Andres now uses music to escape his parents’ battles. While wandering Miami Beach, he meets two photographer Renee, a blaze of fire, and dancer Liora, a ray of sunshine. The three become a polyamorous triad, happy, despite how no one understands their relationship. But when a car accident leaves Liora in a coma, Andres and Renee are shattered. Then Renee proposes a radical idea. She and Andres must go into the underworld to retrieve their girlfriend’s spirit and reunite it with her body—before it’s too late. Their search takes them to the City of the dead, where painters bleed color, songs grow flowers, and regretful souls will do anything to forget their lives on earth. But finding Liora’s spirit is only the first step in returning to the living world. Because when Andres drowned, he left a part of himself in the underworld—a part he’s in no hurry to meet again. But it is eager to be reunited with him… In verse as vibrant as the Miami skyline, critically acclaimed author R.M. Romero has crafted a masterpiece of magical realism and an openhearted ode to the nature of healing.

Blood at the Root by LaDarrion Williams Labyrinth Road

Ten years ago, Malik’s life changed forever the night his mother mysteriously vanished and he discovered he had uncontrollable powers. Since then, he has kept his abilities hidden, looking out for himself and his younger foster brother, Taye. Now, at 17, Malik is finally ready to start a new life for both of them, far from the trauma of his past. However, a daring act to rescue Taye reveals an unexpected connection with his long-lost a legendary conjurer with ties to a hidden magical university that Malik’s mother attended. At Caiman University, Malik’s eyes are opened to a future he never could have envisioned for himself— one that includes the reappearance of his first love, Alexis. His search for answers about his heritage, his powers, and what really happened to his mother exposes the cracks in their magical community as it faces a reawakened evil dating back to the Haitian Revolution. Together with Alexis, Malik discovers a lot beneath the surface at feuding covens and magical politics, forbidden knowledge and buried mysteries. In a wholly unique saga of family, history and community, Malik must embrace his legacy to save what’s left of his old family as well as his new one. Exploring the roots and secrets that connect us in an unforgettable contemporary setting, this heart-pounding fantasy series opener is a rich tapestry of atmosphere, intrigue, and emotion.

Queerceañera by Alex Crespo HarperTeen

Joaquin Zoido is out and proud of it. And while he knew his dad and sister, Carmen, would be super supportive, he wasn’t quite ready for them to surprise him with a queerceañera, a coming out party to celebrate him. Between all the talks of tastings and venues, and the chirping of his family’s RSVP texts, the question of who will be his chambelán is on everyone’s minds. What Joaquin is decidedly trying to not think about is whether his mom is going attend or if she’s finally replaced him with her favorite godson, Felix—the boy who made Joaquin realize he was gay and who was his first kiss. But when an impromptu lie snowballs into a full-fledged family-group-chat rumor, every Zoido from Texas to Mexico starts believing that Felix is not only Joaquin’s chambelán but also his brand-new boyfriend. To avoid the pity and sympathies of an ill-timed breakup, Joaquin and Felix strike a deal—they’ll stay fake boyfriends until the party. Yet, as the day draws nearer and old feelings spark anew, Joaquin will have to decide whether a picture-perfect queerceañera with a fake boyfriend is worth giving up the chance of something real.

The Unboxing of a Black Girl by Angela Shanté Page Street YA

Written as a collection of vignettes and poetry, The Unboxing of a Black Girl is a creative nonfiction reflection on Black girlhood. The debut YA title, by award-winning author Angela Shanté, is a love letter to Black girls set in New York City and serves as a personal and political critique of how the world raises Black girls. As Shanté navigates the city through memory, she balances poetry with vignettes that explore the innocence and joy of childhood eroded by adultification. Through this book, she illuminates the places where Black girls are nurtured or exploited in stories and poems about personal and political boxes, love, loss, and sexual assault. Many entries are also studded with cultural footnotes designed to further understanding.

This Book Won’t Burn by Samira Ahmed Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

After her dad abruptly abandons her family and her mom moves them a million miles from their Chicago home, Noor Khan is forced to start the last quarter of her senior year at a new school, away from everything and everyone she knows and loves. Reeling from being uprooted and deserted, Noor is certain the key to survival is to keep her head down and make it to graduation. But things aren’t so simple. At school, Noor discovers hundreds of books have been labeled “obscene” or “pornographic” and are being removed from the library in accordance with a new school board policy. Even worse, virtually all the banned books are by queer and BIPOC authors. Noor can’t sit back and do nothing, because that goes against everything she believes in, but challenging the status quo just might put a target on her back. Can she effect change by speaking up? Or will small-town politics—and small-town love—be her downfall?

The Boy From Clearwater: Book 2 by Yu Pei-Yun, illustrated by Zhou Jian-Xin, translated by Lin King Levine Querido

After his imprisonment in Green Island, Kun-lin struggles to pick up where he left off ten years earlier. He reconnects with his childhood crush Kimiko and finds work as an editor, jumping from publisher to publisher until finally settling at an advertising company. But when manhua publishing becomes victim to censorship, and many of his friends lose their jobs, Kun-lin takes matters into his own hands. He starts a children’s magazine, Prince, for a group of unemployed artists and his old inmates who cannot find work anywhere else. Kun-lin’s life finally seems to be looking up… but how long will this last? Forty years later, Kun-lin serves as a volunteer at the White Terror Memorial Park, promoting human rights education. There, he meets Yu Pei-Yun, a young college professor who provides him with an opportunity to reminisce on his past and how he picked himself up after grappling with bankruptcy and depression. With the end of martial law, Kun-lin and other former New-Lifers felt compelled to mobilize to rehabilitate fellow White Terror victims, forcing him to face his past head-on. While navigating his changing homeland, he must conciliate all parts of himself – the victim and the savior, the patriot and the rebel, a father to the future generation and a son to the old Taiwan – before he can bury the ghosts of his past.

Rising from the Ashes: Los Angeles, 1992. Edward Jae Song Lee, Latasha Harlins, Rodney King, and a City on Fire by Paula Yoo Norton Young Readers

Paula Yoo’s latest is a compelling, nuanced account of Los Angeles’s 1992 uprising and its impact on its Korean and Black American communities. On April 29, 1992, following the acquittal of four police officers charged with the beating and arrest of Rodney King and the earlier killing of teenager Latasha Harlins, the city of Los Angeles erupted in violence. Many of these events were centered on the city’s Koreatown, where tensions between the Black and Korean American communities had simmered for years, fueled by economic challenges and redlining and enflamed by sensationalized and racist media. Based on more than 100 personal interviews, Rising from the Ashes follows these events through the eyes and experiences of the families of King, Harlins, shooting victim Edward Jae Song Lee, and dozens of business owners, journalists, police officers, firefighters, activists, and other community members. Deeply researched and compulsively readable, this is a vivid, propulsive, and moving story of a pivotal moment in recent American history that continues to resonate today.

[beesneedswords]

Enriched

Karlach x Wyll. My favorite companion ship. POV of Tav. The ending we all need, Karlach stays in Faerûn.

Masterlist

You're startled awake by footsteps a few feet away. You turn slowly as to not disturb anyone else and see Karlach dancing with Wyll. Never touching in fear of being burned. You'd always noticed their corny jokes and Wyll's light touches, but never thought it was anything but friendly banter. Maybe it was at first, but this is definitely different, intimate almost. And when she kisses him, you know. However, they have to pull apart quicker than either wanted since Karlach is still too hot for this plane.

Wyll sighs, "So much shadow around us. I almost missed the light." His words are sweet and beautiful, you can't see how Karlach reacts, but you know you'd be melting if he'd said this to you, "Well - it's getting late. We can't face the morrow if we don't bid farewell to the now."

She leans in for another kiss. Savoring the moment they just had together. You can tell neither want this moment to end, but reluctantly Wyll pulls away.

"I've drunk wines from Daggerford to Cormyr, but I've never known a taste as rich as yours. Gods damn it. You almost asked me forget myself. But I still keep faith in the old tales of love, the once-upon-a-times and happily-ever-afters." He smiles fondly, "I'd like to do this the proper way. The way of the old romances sung by the bards." He bows his head slightly, "Till next time, goodnight - and dream sweetly."

You watch as Wyll walks away from Karlach, backwards, to his tent. Not losing sight of her until he turns to lay in his bedroll. She smiles giddily and goes to bed herself. She seems to sleep sounder than she has before. It's the first and last time you see them act in any romantic scene, thinking it may have been a one time affair. You lift the Shadow Curse and head to Baldur's Gate.

____________

You watch as Dammon works hard to forge the enriched infernal iron, you found on some Steel Watch, into a new engine for Karlach. This is her last option to stay here with everyone. Beads of sweat run down Dammon's neck and forehead as he hammers the metal. Karlach is clearly in distress, wondering if this will work.

"Hurry up already, Dammon!" She says frustrated, "I want to see if it works!"

"Almost done, this stuff is harder to work with than anything else I've worked with." Dammon replies, trying to stay calm. You can tell he's just as nervous as she is.

When he's done he hands the piece of machinery to Karlach and she puts it in swiftly. Both of them waiting. The flames around her slowly sizzle out and she just about leaps for joy.

"You did it!" She grabs Dammon into a huge hug, "Thank you, so much!"

Dammon tries to speak loud enough for you to hear, "I don't know how long it will last, I didn't get to test it muche before you came to me with it. It should last longer than the last one I made; however, I'm not sure it will last forever." Karlach finally let's go, "If you bring me some more I can test to see it's lifespan and then give you an estimate on how long it has."

"No problem, we know just where to get more." You say.

You have yet to finish off the Steel Watch, so that is your next quest. You hope this will keep Karlach stable and able to stay in Baldur's Gate with everyone else. With Karlach's new engine she is a machine when defeating the Steel Watch. She seems to be able to rage without overheating, as well as take flames. You collect several more pieces of iron and head back to Dammon. He convinced you to finish what you started, she has plenty of time to save Baldur's Gate. So you do, you beat the Netherbrain and after a few days of rest you go back to talk to Dammon.

"She has at least a few years with this engine, but with the amount you have, I can make her plenty to last the rest of her lifetime." He says, a smile on his face for being able to save her from Avernus.

Karlach is smiling too, "So how many is a few years? I want to live for ages."

"I would say at least 5 years per engine. It really is up to what you plan on doing." He says, "If you continue fighting and raging, you have 5 years with each engine. If you decide to take it slow and relax you may have up to 10 years with each engine."

"That is amazing!" She yells, "I'm just wanting to live a normal life, a normal job. Maybe even a family? I have no idea, but I have options now!"

She starts actually jumping for joy and running about yelling how she is finally free. You can't help but laugh with her, you're so happy for her.

Wyll smiles, "You get to live your own life now, Karlach."

"So do you!" She yells, "I would love to spend it with you!"

"With me? Are you sure?" Wyll asks, "I have to take over as Duke, is that really a life you want?"

"Why not? We could be wonderful together." She laughs, "There's nothing we can't do now!"

Wyll smiles, you never noticed how he looked at her before. Duke and Duchess together sounds like the perfect life for the two of them. Would she be Duchess? She would only take that title if they married, you guess.

"I would love that." Wyll says, "We better get started, we have a city to help rebuild."

The two leave, Karlach grabbing his hand a few feet from you. You turn away to start your own life, no idea what to do, maybe another adventure.

A year later, you hear from Karlach and Wyll before you set off with some old companions for another adventure, they were engaged to be married. You'd heard other Dukes and people of power were not very fond of a Tiefling joining them or Wyll's demon looks. Wyll asked Karlach if this life, being a Duchess, was really what she wanted. Her answer, of course, was yes and he proposed. The rings were blue stones within gold bands, and you'd realized they were True Love's Caress and Embrace, you'd given them before leaving for your own adventure not six months ago at the party Withers hosted. You are happy to be able to be a part of their life still, even if you are so far away.

A few months after their announcement you receive a letter from Karlach, a wedding invitation for you and your companions, for 3 months later. you quickly write back that you all will be attending. You finish some loose ends and begin the long trek back to Baldur's Gate.

[merlinrarepairfest]

Round Up 4

With Week 4 coming to a close, we're now a bit over halfway through the posting period! You can find this week's fills beneath the cut <3

Title: A Lifetime of Promises Writer: eachpeachpearplum | @eachpeachpearplume Rating: M Warnings: No archive warnings apply Medium/Word Count: fic, ~50k | Chapter 1/14 Pairing/main characters: Gwaine/Merlin/Percival, established Gwaine/Percival, past Gwaine/Merlin Up to 10 tags: Modern AU, polyamory negotiations, fluff, slow burn (for the poly ship), falling back in love, hurt/comfort

Summary:

When Gwaine bumps into his ex, Merlin, in the pub one night, he doesn't realise quite how much it's going to change his and Percival's lives.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52010989

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Title: fade away never Writer: SlantedKnitting | @slantedknitting Rating: General Audiences Warnings: none Medium/Word Count: 1,186 words Pairing/main characters: Leon/Merlin Up to 10 tags: Regency Era, Queerplatonic Relationship, Immortal Leon, Immortal Merlin, Ballroom Dancing

Summary:

Leon and Merlin attend a ball.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51031786

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Title: [ART] Still Yours Artist: Mischel | @magicalmischel Rating: G Warnings: none Medium/Word Count: 0 Pairing/main characters: Gwen/Morgana Up to 10 tags: Digital Art, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Gwen (Merlin), Hugs, Wings, Fallen Angel Morgana (Merlin), Demon Morgana (Merlin)

Summary:

Morgana/Gwen fanart for Rare Pair Fest 2023. Prompt: Angels and Demons au. They were together when they were angels. Then Morgana fell.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51384040

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Title: The Shop at the Corner's End Writer: Cassius_theCorrupterofSouls | @twisted-shipper Rating: M Warnings: Creator chose not to use Archive warnings  Medium/Word Count: 12,456 Pairing/main characters: Morgana/Mordred  Up to 10 tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Witchcraft, Wicca, Autumn, Halloween 

Summary:

Drawn towards a local occult shop that lies on her route to school, Morgana Pendragon takes it upon herself one Saturday afternoon in September to visit the store, hoping to purchase with her meager allowance a book or two on witchcraft, a practice she has been secretly reading up on online but has no hands-on experience with due to her father's no "nonsense" stance on all things supernatural. Entering the shop, she finds it to be as magical and sublime as her expectations, but what she doesn't expect is the confrontation she is about to have with one of its employees, a young man by the name of Mordred, who may just possess the secret to helping her realize her dreams of forging her own path and become more certain of herself in the process. Or, based on the prompt: Modern AU. Mordred works in an esoteric Wicca bookshop. Curious, Morgana visits the shop secretly because her conservative and stern father doesn't like her "unscientific, silly" hobbies. Romance, initial dislike for each other, find themselves drawn together.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51253924

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Title: golden thread (clasped weft woven) Writer: AgapantoBlu | @agapantoblu Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Medium/Word Count: 20.766 words Pairing/main characters: Freya/Merlin; Arthur Pendragon. Up to 10 tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Freya Lives, Magic Revealed, Implied/Referenced Torture (though it’s just in dreams), Nightmares, It’s hard to live your cottagecore fantasies when destiny won’t stop banging at the door.

Summary: 

“It was so close. They barely made it out of Camelot and even then, Merlin was ready to watch her die. He'd held her and cried and screamed and begged whatever force had made him, every ounce of his magic, to please. Just not her. Not at Arthur's hand. Fate must have worried about the latter more than the first, but the waters had risen nonetheless, and the waves had washed away the blood and the wound alike. Merlin had been hit with a strange feeling of melancholy and sorrow and the weird relaxation that happens when a pull that seemed unnoticeable before suddenly stops. Just like that, Camelot didn't seem so enthralling anymore, and Arthur's actions not so easily pardoned."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51364060

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Title: her sorrowless salt self Writer: greenforsnow | @m-b-w Rating: T Warnings: no archive warnings apply Medium/Word Count: fic, 6k Pairing/main characters: Gwen/Morgana Up to 10 tags: Pirate Morgana, Mermaid Gwen, getting together

Summary:

Morgana looks for freedom in the ocean; she finds Gwen.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51389305

[thenotebookwizard]

She-Ra | Defiance CH 26: Plans

Shadow Weaver schemes and manipulates the Horde to keep her plans on track - while Lord Hordak sets his own plans into place. Whatever those may be - a mystery that worries even Shadow Weaver.

Some of you may have noticed the change in rating. This chapter marks the shift from T to M.

To be fair, I never planned for the rating to change. I also planned for this fic to be a 90k event fic I could bang out in a couple of months before turning back to my other longfics and stories. As we can all tell, this story was far, far more than I expected it to be, and as we head into the time skip, I am realizing the story is no longer T rated.

What this means:

Some of the villains are going to be meaner and more unpleasant

There may be *references* to nudity and sex (adult characters only)

The violence may be more violent

What this does NOT mean:

I will not be writing hyper-graphic violence or abuse: things will stay at the level they are, though I will be implying darker things

I will not be writing sex scenes

There will never be a need for gore or violence warnings beyond what I already have

If any of this makes you want to jump ship, I understand!

This week is the last week before the time skip. Next week, we start one year after Catra's abduction. Two weeks hence, we start two years after Catra's abduction.

We have a few weeks of story during that second year, and then we enter three years after Catra's abduction. Adora and Catra will both be eighteen by the time Adora leaves the Horde.

If I were writing this as a traditional book, today's chapter would either be the end of book one or the beginning of book two.

But it isn't the end of the first arc of the story!

But, this chapter marks a few updates. A new summary:

Determined to make Adora into her perfect weapon, Shadow Weaver banishes Catra from the Horde and manipulates Adora onto a dark path of pain, fear, and hopeless devotion to nameless causes. Sent back to a people she doesn't know, Catra must discover her stolen heritage and take her rightful place in the hidden kingdom of Halfmoon, defying a lifetime of failure to become a leader - and reshape the future of her people. Trained by an enigmatic prisoner who might know the secrets of her past, Adora must endure the terrible future Shadow Weaver has planned and reshape herself into a champion for all of Etheria - and beyond. But when Shadow Weaver's impatience and range change Adora forever, she escapes to the rebellion and faces war against the Horde that that raised her in hopes of saving the world. They must both defy destiny and embrace the promises of forgotten magic and childhood dreams to forge their paths back to each other.

And the new rating. Which - given some of the content so far, might be overdue? Not sure. The line between T and M is sometimes very thin. None the less, as we move into the girls getting older and as they face darker and harder moments, the rating is going up.

As always, thank you to all of my readers and commenters. Your support is amazing, and I am glad to see this story getting so much love!

[anxiousotters]

5 things I like to write about

All my love to @cookiemonsterv3 for the tag!!

1. Redemption - I really like looking at villains or just antagonistic characters and asking “Why did you do it?” and “If things were different, would you have made different choices?”. Obviously I don’t think bad decisions should be excused, but far too often I see villains/ antagonists either A) sacrifice themselves to absolve them of the consequences of their actions or B) apologize for their actions but never do anything further. I love writing villains/ antagonists who make the choice to apologize, take accountability for their actions and own them, and try to reconcile and do better for their communities. I like when characters choose to do the hard work of acknowledging their faults and becoming better people, proving it’s possible to come back (can you tell I really want Pride and Prejudice from Mr. Darcy’s POV?)

2. Religion/ Culture - I love exploring religion or religion-equivalents, how they function, and how characters interact with their religion, or religious around them that they’re not members of. In a similar vein, I love writing about culture and when a fictional culture isn’t completely fleshed out or has room for additions, I love adding little bits of my own culture to it (eg. detailing mandalorian formal tunics with Celtic embroidery). I also love writing cultural clashes, like what happens when two opposing cultures are forced to share space with each other. I just like it when characters learn that the other culture is full of different (but still important) things, and both sides learn to appreciate the other

3. Banter - who doesn’t love a good bit of banter? Honestly I don’t think writing banter is my strongest suit, but I love it anyways, especially sibling banter. As one of four kids with an additional gaggle of 30+ cousins, I really write how I think me and my siblings/ cousins would interact (or have interacted in the past) when I write banter. It always makes me giggle, and I love giving my characters siblings/ friends who are as close as siblings for this reason. I also love the tension and excitement that comes with writing romantic banter, especially if the characters aren’t together yet. Delicious stuff

4. Forged Family - you’ve seen found family, this is the same dish but with a hint of forced proximity and trauma. I like writing about found family where the family bonds form because the characters have suffered so much together and still choose to protect and love each other like family. The sentiment is very “I’m stuck with you, but I’d also choose to love you in every lifetime”

5. Rivals to Lovers - in same vein as banter, but different. I like a good conflict, I like the tension, I like the slow build/ melting of ice that comes with rivals to lovers. Specifically I like it best when the conflict comes from external/ cultural reasons and not miscommunication. I just think it’s juicer when the rivals actually have to learn to get along because they’re different in ways that cause friction, rather than they’re not having an important conversation that could solve everything. Almost all of my favourite ships are rivals to lovers, and I like to put the ones that aren’t into situations where they are (oops)

No pressure tags: @thenookspace, @firefly-fez, @maraliga, @ferretrade and anyone else who wants to play!!

[fortunafavours]

Care to share some facts about the ROs?

oh, absolutely! i'll drop a few about each:

Malcolm

Has been imprisoned twice, and nearly hanged once. Not something he's really proud of, but not something he shies away from either.

Knows how to use a sword! It should come as no surprise to anyone that he was training from young to enter squirehood and eventually knighthood. He swapped paths when he was sixteen and needed something to keep him out of trouble, so blacksmithing kept him busy. Turns out he was good at it and stuck with it as it's meditative for him in nature.

Everything Malcolm forges has his signature on it: a small M engraved somewhere on the steel or handle. That's how you know it's an authentic Ashford blade and of good quality.

If Malcolm had a dnd class, he would be a LG oath of devotion paladin with the artisan background

Cyril

Loves cats. Has had a few in his lifetime, currently has two, both black: Mischief and Mayhem. Mischief is a sleek black and Mayhem is a fuzzy black.

Is left handed!

Not really religious, but definitely knows a lot of sayings for the old gods and uses them regularly. The one he refers to most often is Bastian, god of dawn and dusk and the patron of shadows and rogues.

If Cyril had a dnd class, he would be a CG/LN grave domain cleric with the charlatan background

E

Has fairly good memory recall and is likely to know exactly what you're trying to refer to. However, the pitfall to this is that it makes them not a very good liar. "I don't know" doesn't fly when you can remember where you were on August 15th at 3:55 in the afternoon.

Reads EXTREMELY corny romance novels for fun, but would rather gnaw their own hands off than admit that outloud

Knows a lot about ships. They're from a merchant family and spent a lot of time between ports, so they have a random assortment of knowledge on boats.

If E had a dnd class, they would be a LG conjuration wizard with the sage background

JJ

Was an annoying theatre kid (speaking as an ex-annoying theatre kid). It shows in their debate style, as they cannot help the flair for the dramatic.

Knows how to count cards and has, on occasion, used loaded dice. You could take them to a gambling den and win, but you'd have to know when to haul 'em out. Not because they have issues with gambling, but because they have far too large an ego and would blow it pretty quick.

Of all the ROs, JJ is the least likely to give you a nickname as a term of endearment and instead, always use your full preferred name. However you introduce yourself to them is how they'll refer to you (i.e. if you say your name is Daniel, they'll never refer to you as Dan or Danny unless you say so, even if others around you are doing it). They're very proper in this way. Likewise, they absolutely hate being called Jamie/Janey. It's either James/Jane or JJ.

If JJ had a dnd class, they would be a CG glamour bard with the courtier background

D

like their younger brother, D also has magic, and actually made it through SCEPTRE training with top marks, but didn't qualify for the group. So instead, they were made head of the sorcerer division of the kingsguard.

If Fortuna were set in a modern verse, they would have the most "dad rock" taste in music of all time. Like, Journey, Aerosmith, Queen etc. They'd have a record player and their favourite records and get tons of mileage from it.

Takes great care of their mount. One of those real rider/beast bonds, was probably a horse girl.

If D had a dnd class, they would be a... lawful... oath of the crown paladin with the knight of the order background

A

In certain circles, and once you get to know them better, they utilize their mother's surname of Larkspur as they themselves hold no love for the Calyx crown either. Being a pawn in greater political ambitions does not suit them well.

Very religious. Depending on the twin, the deity they follow changes. Amaranthus is a follower of Viralaine, goddess of love and death, whereas Amaryllis is a follower of Valentine, goddess of mercy and justice. They have very different perspectives on this.

If they aren't tending to their duties at the temple, then they're usually in the burial mounds paying respect to the departed. The dead keep the best secrets after all.

If A had a dnd class, they would be a NG twilight cleric with the acolyte background

[birdie123au]

agon

agon - a contest, struggle, or conflict of personality, character, or values

War has taken from you everything you had known and loved. Still, new light has been brought into your life to keep you afloat. Through an unlikely friendship, you forge your way in the royal court as a force of great power to be reckoned with.

part four of five

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The sun was harsh as it shone over the sea, reflecting its intense rays off the clear ocean blue back into the sky. Despite the beautiful, sunny weather that often brought good fortune, the day was nothing but solem and the air was tense. A fleet of a dozen ships would be setting sail for Troy, and on one of those was your newlywed husband, Ajax.

It had only been several weeks since the two of you married, yet it felt like lifetimes ago. The very next morning following your wedding, you woke up in a room full of people you dreaded to see. The headmistress, the master guard, the King of Salamis, and the horse-stable man. Angrily, three of them demanded to know if it was true. If you had truly wedded the future king in the later hours of the evening without proper supervision or consent of the father. You practically had a heart attack after being bombarded by their questions, especially when they began to bring up matters of consummation and which chamber you slept in that night. It wasn’t until his siblings, the rest of the royal counsel, and Ajax himself arrived that you no longer felt you were the target of the attack.

After hours of debate, screaming, and scheming, the royal counsel came to the conclusion that, although they did not wish for it, the marriage was legal and therefore binding. This meant that the two of you were married officially, your betrothals ceased, and you were now a princess. But you were certainly not treated as such, especially after you guaranteed you would never have the favor of the king who was beyond mad his matchmaking skills with the Princess Arete had gone to waste. 

But it didn't matter, as today was not about you. It was about your Ajax. He was to get on a boat for an indeterminate amount of time with the slight chance he would never return. The night before his departure you spent weeping into the pillows of your shared room. You no longer had shame expressing your tears, and you instead sought the comfort of those around you, including your husband, as a means of coping with your grief. 

Despite all prayers and wishes, you stood in front of your husband, looking directly into his bright blue eyes. You couldn't help but wonder how things could have turned out to be this way. The twelve year old boy you once knew, who you used to play toys with, and watch his sports, had grown right in front of your eyes. His face had matured and his hair color had deepend. You tried to imagine the two versions of himself standing next to each other, how similar their smirks would be, how different their height. What that twelve year old boy would be feeling about all this, you do not know. Now matter how much reflection you could do did not change current circumstances. Ajax was leaving you, just after you finally, truly had him, and he would not be back for many more moons.

“Ajax,” you said, taking an additional step forward. He met you halfway in a bone crushing hug. Summers on Salamis could be sticky and unbearably hot at times, but you didn't mind how your skin stuck together slightly due to the line layer of sweat.

“Y/n,” he similarly addressed, “be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

You laughed into his shoulder before pulling yourself away to meet his lips; “Only if you promise you’ll be good as well.”

You were only half joking.

You heard a much deeper voice clear his throat from behind; “Son,” the voice said.

King Telamon was standing directly behind you, towering over both you and your husband. You decided it was best to move out of their way, opting to stand a comfortable distance at the side of Ajax. You watched as the two men embraced, and although Ajax was eighteen you couldn’t help but identify parts of his twelve year old self as he attempted to squirm and squeeze his way out of his fathers hug. You felt a pang of sadness in your heart as you watched the scene knowing you no longer had the opportunity to embrace your own father.

The Queen Hesione was nowhere in sight. Ever since the marriage of her eldest son to the bastard daughter of a beggar, tensions were ever high in the royal court. Hesione took a particular dislike to you out of all the women present. It was unsettling to you that you preferred the company of Headmistress Xanthe over the queen. She was cold, judgemental, and outright rude towards you despite the fact you had only formally spoken a few times. She did not like you, and you were fine with that. Afterall, she owed you nothing and you did not behave in a way to indicate that she did. But what you did find rather obnoxious was her refusal to send off her own son to war due to her grievances with you. 

Despite this bit of drama, the rest of Ajax’s family and court were present. The Princess Tonia, Prince Anton, and Prince Teucer all had to blink back the tears in their eyes as they hugged their brother goodbye. You did not know his siblings well, but you were still formal enough as to have no public grievances. Watching the siblings interact in a way so caring, so loving filled your heart with joy. It reminded you of your childhood with Rosaria. You loved having a pseudo sibling, you loved the fact Ajax had a sibling, and you knew you wanted any future children of yours to have siblings as well. 

It wasn’t much longer before Ajax had to say his goodbyes. With one last kiss, he turned toward you to say, “Good luck, girlie!” before heading off. No ‘I love you’ or ‘I'll miss you’ just a childish, silly phrase he would say. That was your Ajax. 

With that, he was gone. You watched as the ships slowly disappeared over the horizon. Standing alongside the rest of his family and court, you became increasingly aware of a looming threat above you. Ajax served as the protector, the buffer between you and his enraged council. Without him, you were vulnerable, your only truly allies being Dimitri and the headmistress, if she was having a good day. You attempted to push away these thoughts in your head, and instead focused on watching attentively as you watched your husband disappear right before your eyes over the great ocean.

–––––––––

My dearest, Y/n

It's hard to believe over two years have passed since the day I left you on that dock. The war moves slowly, much like many of the old warriors who serve Menelaus. The days are long, and the nights seem to only grow faster. I urge Menelaus to push forward against their defenses. Afterall, we have many strong, capable men (like me) who are up for the task. Still, he assures me that his plan of working slowly against each of Hector and Paris’s wave of armies remains the best strategy available. I spend my nights drinking with Agamemnon, mornings reviewing strategies with Odysseus, and afternoons discussing more simple ideas with Achilles and his dear friend Patroclus.

Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with my buddies! But two years of talking with only men has grown rather… repetitive. I long to hear your voice again. Some nights I find myself saying up whispering your name, to see if it still sounds the same to me, you know?

I hope things are going smoothly in court. It hurts me to know you're still dealing with these… problems with my family. Just know, you have someone on your side all the way across the sea. I’m sure you will rise above this seemingly never ending challenge, you always do! Keep me updated with this whole Dimitri–Linos affair. It’s the only good gossip I can get around here. 

I know I always write the same thing, but I think about you everyday. I think about your hair, your eyes, your smile, the way your scent always reminds me of the beach. Reminds me of home. Getting to fight in a war is great in all, but I do find myself missing you and the family more and more as the days pass.  

Take care of yourself, and tell the boys I say hi.

All my love,

Ajax

You sigh as you look up from reading your letter. The chambers of your room have a great window that looks out onto the sea. Ever since you had moved in almost three years ago you had been infatuated with watching the curtains blow towards you with each gust of wind. As the wife of the crowned prince, you find that you no longer have as many freedoms as you once did as a young serving girl. 

You were no longer able to take a stroll all by yourself onto the beach, no, you were always under constant supervision by either the guards or ladies in waiting. Not like it mattered who it was, as no matter the type of person once their duties were done they would always whisper in the hallways calling you names such as ‘The Bitch Servant’ or ‘The Bastard Queen.’ Your skin was thick, and their words could not penetrate it. However, you always found it interesting how no matter your station in the palace, you would never truly have their respect. Not even by marrying the future king of all of Salamis. 

Years had gone by since you had last seen your husband. Not even his letters could appease the growing hole in your heart that his presence once filled. Instead, that whole was filled by a person, two people.

As if they had read your thoughts, you heard the frantic knock of a young servant girl, and you therefore already knew who was here. Standing up from your chair, you fixed your light purple robe and adjusted the string that tied up your hair. The young serving girl had already swung open the door and there ran in two little bodies. Your boys. 

Alexandros and Simonides, who you referred to as Alex and Simon, had recently turned two years old, and had the energy to prove it. The two toddlers would constantly be running up and down the palace corridors with their arms extended to their sides like little birds. The boys shared the ginger hair of their father, but inherited both their complexion and their eye color from yourself. 

Alexandros was the older of the two boys. This natural born leader aspect of his character had already begun to show from the way he paraded his little brother around, commanding him which halls to go down, which foods to eat. He had a knack for mischief and liked to show it. 

Simonides, the younger twin, was more sensitive than his brother. He cried more often than his brother, and was less ambitious to take on new challenges. Despite this, the boy had an extensive vocabulary for his age, and his delicate, intelligent nature served as the perfect foil to his more intense brother.

“Oh my boys!” you said, throwing the letter down onto a nearby chair. You crouched before the two of them, stretching your arms out wide to which the two boys gladly ran into. 

“Thank you, Agatha,” you said as you dismissed the service girl. She did not respond, but rather bowed her head before swiftly leaving this door.

“Mama!” Alex giggled, throwing his little hands up in the air.

“For you,” Simon said, sudden;y releasing whatever had been clutched in his little hands. It was a small flower, most likely from a rogue seedling that had grown in the grass.

“Why is it beautiful!” you replied, pulling it up to your nose to take a sniff,  “It smells very fresh. Did you boys find it on your walk with Agatha?”

“No!” Simon shouted, “Grandmama walk with us.”

“Ah,” you cringed, “Well, I hope you had fun, my sweet boys.”

Alex then sprung in an escape from your arms and began running around your bedroom. It had been difficult raising your children without your husband the past few years, but with the help of the staff and Ajax’s family you did not have to struggle as much as your father did. It did pain you that Ajax had never met his own sons, but you found strength in the idea that he may someday return. Although you knew many in his family had no love for you, they did love the boys, and for that you were grateful. Your children were your rock, they were what kept you strong. They were the reason you could hear vile whispers and allegations in the halls and walk past them with your head up, eyes forward. You only hoped that your sons would never have to face the same speculations that you had. 

“Your majesty?” a handmaiden said, standing at the now open door of your chamber.

“Yes?” you asked, standing up from where you were crouched on the floor, watching your boys run all around the room.

“Her grace the queen wants to speak to you,” she paused for a moment and anxiously picked at her hand, “She says it urgent.”

“Oh,” you said, “Well, could you help me take the boys?”

“Um, she actually wants it to be just the two of you,” she replied, you raised your eyebrows in exasperation, “The boys will be sent down to the Princesses quarters until you can return.”

“Why,” you said, anger straining your voice, “I haven't seen my sons all day. What does she want?”

“I don’t know, your majesty…” the handmaiden said, looking as though she was about to cry.

You sighed angrily as you walked out the door, leaving her behind to escort your children. You then made the walk across the entire palace. Holding up your dress so as to not trip up the many stairs, you were fuming. It was not as though the queen intentionally kept your children away from you often, but she knew that today was when the letters from the army would arrive at Salamis. She knew Ajax had sent you a letter, and you knew that ignited the wounds of betrayal from years ago. 

You had learned from Ajax in a letter he had sent about a year ago that it was the queen's idea to marry him to Princess Arete, and that the king had been the one to put the scheme to life. The queen’s cousin was mother of Arete, and Queen Hesione wished to have a family member nearby for comfort. It pained you to learn that she had been shipped off to Salamis at the age of only fourteen to marry the already eighteen year old King Telamon. 

Not pausing to knock, a guard swung open the queen’s door at the sight of your arrival. The queen turned around from where she had stood, gazing out her window, much like you had been. Hesione was a beautiful woman, that was for certain. She had long, curled auburn hair with a section of it braided and wrapped around the back of her head going ear to ear. Her eyes were a beautiful light brown. The way in which she carried herself with confidence reminded you of her first born son, Ajax.

“Ah, Y/n,” she said, “Please, take a seat at the table.”

“Your grace,” you bowed before taking a seat at the small table by her window. It was an ancient wooden table that belonged to one of the first queens of Salamis and only two of its original chairs remained. Taking a seat, you glanced once more at the queen who was now approaching you. She did not look happy, but rather solem. 

“I wish not to bore you with idle chit-chat,” she began, “I’m sure you received a letter from my son this morning, have you not?”

“I have, your grace,” you lifted the cup of wine that had been placed before your seat, taking a sip; it was bitter.

“Tell me what it said,” she said, startling you with her change in demeanor, “Tell me in total the truth of it.”

“Excuse me?” is all you could think of as a reply.

“Y/n,” the queen pleaded, “Please, this is very important. The queen commands it.”

“If I had known this was all that concerned you, I would have brought it to you myself,” you said before explaining to her the contents of the letter. 

“I see,” was all she said in response, “I understand then.”

“Is that all, your grace?” you said, annoyance still present in your voice despite you trying to be as calm as possible.

“If I tell you this, will you promise not to spread this gossip?” she said; you were confused.

“Of course,” you replied upon instinct, “What is it?”

As if her demeanor had not shocked you enough, the queen began weeping. Despite your sour relationship over the past several years, you felt plain watching her cry in front of you, helpless to stop it.

“My son writes to me,” she said in between her tears, “That the Trojans are making their advances and are winning the war. Menelaus is stubborn and wishes to carry out his strategy with no change. They–”

The queen became overwhelmed by grief and sobbed into her hands. Awkwardly, you walked towards her offering an embrace. Much to your surprise, she had not rejected you, and instead allowed you to wrap her in your arms. It was strange, you had never been this close to the queen physically in your entire life. After a moment, the queen gained her senses and lifted her head back up. You took your seat at the table once more.

“They wish to take to battle more skilled warriors,” she finally explained, “Menelaus demands for my son’s brothers to fight by his side. Ajax has wholeheartedly agreed.”

“What?” you gasped, “But Anton has just begun his studies of philosophy. Teucer is hardly fifteen. Surely there is no way the king will allow this.”

The queen shook her head, crying some more; “I spoke with my husband this morning, Ajax had already written to him with this news months ago. What a fool! Does he not care for the lives and innocence of his younger brothers! He is meant to protect them, not drag them into battle. Oh, and my husband! I just cannot believe he would allow such a thing!”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, reaching your hands onto the table, “Is there anything I can do?”

In another shocking act, the queen grabbed your hands into hers; “I have been at this court for many years at the mercy of the men around me,” She continued tearing up as she spoke, “Not once have I had an ally completely partial to me, not even my own husband.”

It started to make sense. Queen Hesione, the same woman who had spent years mocking you to your face and whispering about you behind your back, had now realized that in all the time she spent tearing you down she had neglected the fact she had very few allies in court. She now needed your support, your perspective, someone who would agree with her: a fellow mother. The thought first disgusted you, how dare she treat you like that and then expect you to blindly support her in court! But the more you thought about it, the more you realized the great importance an ally of her status would mean for you. No longer would the servants be able to freely whisper about you in the halls, insult your late father, or question the legitimacy of your own children. You knew you had to dismiss your anger in search of greener pastures. You had to make an ally out of Queen Hesione.

“Y/n,” the queen continued, “Your support in this court would be a great help to me, to my own daughter. We are both mothers who care deeply for our children. Together we could protect them.”

“I completely agree, your grace,” you said, putting on your best comforting smile, “I believe that if you had the support of Princess Tonia and I, surely the head priest Dimitri would follow– as well as the high priestesses of the Temple of Athena.”

“I’m glad you see it as I do,” the queen said as she removed one of her hands from yours as to wipe her tears away, “Well, I must now go speak to my daughter, tell her all of her brothers will be sent away to war. You will come with me, and we will go visit my grandchildren as well.”

Walking with linked arms, you and Hesione left for the princesses quarters. As you walked through the halls, the servants stared, bowing down to the two of you in awe. An allyship, a statement to the king, a protest of sorts. Showing how two women at odds could unite under a common ground: the protection of their children. You and the queen, walking arm and arm. 

–––––––––

The princess’s head was buried in her hands, sobbing. Her mother, the queen, was at her side attempting to comfort her with reassuring words of strength. Tonia had just turned sixteen years old, but carried herself with grace beyond her years. She was educated, had great posture, and had a beauty that would rival her own mothers. Much like all of his siblings, she shared practically identical features to Ajax. 

Upon your arrival to her chambers, the young girl was playing blocks with your sons. Laughing as the two would take turns knocking over the towers she had built up. She was initially very confused why you and her queen mother had arrived at the same time, arms liked as though you were longtime friends. But the confusion very quickly turned to joy as she grew excited over the possibility of your friendship. That happiness quickly turned into horror as her mother sat her down and explained that her two remaining brothers would be shipped off to war, just as the oldest had been. 

As the mother comforted her daughter, you stood off to the side, looking on in sadness as your little boys laughed and tugged at your dress. A few moments later, the queen stood up from where she had been crouching. 

“My daughter,” she said, stroking the princesses' ginger hair, “I bring you more alarming news, but you should not worry. Your father has plans to marry you off to the cousin of King Menelaus of Sparta, an older man with no children. But we, you, Y/n, and I, will not allow this to happen. I will not have my only daughter, my only child remaining, shipped off to some far away kingdom to a man three times her age. You are to come to court, and the three of us will present our case. Y/n will write to Ajax demanding him to negotiate against his father.” 

So then turned to you, “We only have so much time, you must write quickly.” Tonia looked between the two of you, tears still in her eyes, but the every deviant princess nodded her head in solidarity, and so the three of you devised a plan. By the end of the month, there would be a meeting at the royal court to decide upon the dowry of Tonia. It is where the three of you would present your case to King Telamon, and if all went according to plan the three of you would remain at court. Remain in power.

–––––––––

My dearest, Y/n

I am glad to hear that the boys are doing well. I remember when my little brother, Teucer, was their age. He also had a habit of running around, causing mischief, and keeping both the handmaidens and my own mother on her toes. The war has been going steady, though not too great for us, my fellow warriors and I have slew hundreds of Trojans and we won’t stop until Helen is returned to her rightful home.

As for the more pressing matter to which you write, I cannot believe how disgusting the situation is. If it was up to me, Tonia would not marry the cousin of Menelaus. He is a lazy bum, and more than twice her age! I already was on edge about accepting my brothers into my army, but this has truly gone too far. I certainly condemn this relationship, and I’ve already written to my father demanding he does not proceed. Trust me, I’ll take care of it.

I am also very pleased to hear you and my mother are getting along now! In her letter she wrote praises of you and your bravery. I can’t wait to hear more about all your adventures together. I miss you and the family more than anything. 

Yours,

Ajax

The King Telamon crumpled your letter into his face, angrily looking upon his wife; “Hesione,” he demanded, “What is the meaning of this!”

“My dear husband,” the queen said, she was the only person at the small table of the royal counsel who stood up, “I believe that it would be in our best interest to not marry the Princess Tonia to the cousin of the King of Sparta. Instead, I propose we marry her to one of his sons when she is to turn eighteen.”

“Oh you stupid woman,” the king laughed, “You know nothing of politics! I have a fair trade with the cousin. Twentyseven oxen in exchange for our daughter! These oxen would bring great fortune and good to our local farmers. Strengthen the economy of all of Salamis!”

“Is that all our daughter is to you!” the queen yelled back, “Is she worth twentyseven ox? Is that all she means to you!”

The king grew even more angered, and opened his mouth in protest, but you instead cut in to speak your mind, “If I may, you grace?” all eyes turned to you as you stood from your chair, “The deal for your daughter is an excellent one, a clever political move.”

The queen raised her eyebrows in confusion as Tonia’s eyes widened in fear of what you would say next, “But it is clear to me you are being schemed by the cousin of Menelaus. He knows too well that Menelaus’s sons are a far better match for your daughter, and is attempting to woo you with animals that you could surely obtain through other means. In fact, if you were to marry your daughter to his eldest son, Nicostratus, I’m certain he could provide you with gifts of an even greater scale. Your daughter would be the future Queen of Sparta, she would be fair and good and loved by all her people. She would have status and power, you would have connection to the throne of Sparta.”

The queen smiled; “I agree with Y/n, my husband,” she said, “I will write to Menelaus, informing him of the proposal. Ajax will be quite pleased, and I am certain he will convince his fellow warrior to approve of the union.” 

The king sat in silence for quite some time, thinking long and diligently about the proposal; “Headpriest Dimitri,” he said suddenly, “What are your opinions on the matter? Do you believe the union to be promoting and truthful? Is it the will of the gods?”

Dimitri practically yelped at being put on the spot. He stood up from where he sat, brushing his robes off with his hands in a fit of anxiety. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat before beginning to speak; “Your grace,” he began, “I believe that the queen and princesses proposal is a fair one. A proposal that will surely have the gods smiling down upon the union. Nicostratus will succeed his father and take Tonia as his queen. Connections with Sparta will certainly assure a bountiful harvest in trade and crop.”

“Is that so?” the king said, looking at his wife, “Well… Y/n, you should write to Ajax immediately informing him of this offer. Dimitri, I want to send word for Sparta tonight informing him of my intentions to marry my daughter to Nicostratus. And to my wife, you best not involve yourself in such political matters again. Women are unfit for such a station.”

Following the conclusion of the meeting, you, Queen Hesione, and Tonia spent the evening in the queen's chambers, eating rich food and drinking fine wine. You shared stories about your youth as a servant, including the one where you met Ajax for the first time. Tonia gasped in horror while the drunk Hesione laughed like a schoolgirl in reaction to you telling them about when Ajax practically drowned you in the water to wash off your clothes. You found yourself enjoying their comfort more and more as each day passed with your husband around. You no longer felt as isolated, as afraid of the people around you.

Despite King Telamon’s threats about the women no longer being able to attend his court, the three of you continued to do so until Tonia was married off to Prince Nicostratus. You and Queen Hesione, however, continued to hold powerful influences in court for many years. When King Telamon became too ill with consumption to attend the hearings, it was Hesione who sat in his place with you at her side. 

It is not a king who rules over Salamis, they would say, it was a woman and a bastard, a queen and a princess.

–––––––––

My love,

I find I have little time to write to you. The war is near its end. Achilles is dead, I have killed Hector with my own hands. All that is left is for us to kill Paris and rescue Helen. I will finally be able to reunite with you.

I have recently been thinking about what I’ve been doing with my life for the past decade. Was participating in this war truly worth it? Was watching my dear brother Anton die before my eyes worth the gold and honor I would bring back with me to Salamis? Not being able to visit my father even though he's getting sicker? It's been ten years since my sons were born, and I still haven't even met them once.

Every night I think back to the night we ran away and got married. Nothing stopped us from continuing to run. We could have left everything behind and had each other. I would still be with you. When I can’t sleep, I leave my tent to go standby on the shore of the ocean. Watching the waves crash on the shore in the dead of night reminds me of you.

I hope the next time I write to you I’m on the ship, heading home. Tomorrow my fellow soldier, Odysseus and I will fight for Achilles’s armor. Once I have all my affairs settled, I will return home.

It won't be long now!

Yours,

Ajax

“Is that all he said?” you asked, continuing to weave the stitches on the loom.

“Yes, mother,” Simon said, “It’s shorter than usual, doesn’t even take up a full page.”

“Well, hopefully the next one he writes is longer,” you stop weaving to stand up and smile at your son, “Now, where is Alex? I have another meeting with the council this afternoon, and I want you both to be there.”

“Um, I think he's out training in the yard,” he said, “I can go grab him if you want.”

“I would appreciate that,” you kissed him on the cheek, “Take your time, you don’t have to rush.”

You smiled as you watched your younger son leave the room. He had grown a great amount in the past ten years, and he was tall for his age. He was several inches taller than his brother, but his build was more slender due to the fact he never trained outside. Alex kept his ginger hair to his shoulders while Simon kept it shorter and in a ponytail. It pleased you to see how good your boys had gotten along. 

“Princess?” a handmaiden said, standing at your door, “The queen requests your presence in the garden.” 

You nodded at the girl’s words, following her out the door to approach the garden. Walking through the large marble halls has always filled you with a sense of nostalgia, remember your walks as a young servant girl, fetching water for the horses or chum for the fish. You often thought about Rosaria as you walked through the courtyard to the garden, walking past the various statues of goddesses and gods. Although the two of you wrote to each other often, it had been several years since she last visited you and your sons at the palace. You appreciated the fact that she would also write to your sons often, establishing a healthy relationship as a caring aunt. 

I love this chapter with all my heart. Expanding on Mc’s relationship with other characters was a real treat. Yay princess girlboss!

As you entered the garden and turned the corner, you were greeted by the face of the queen and several of her handmaidens. 

“Y/n,” she said with a smile, “Come here dearest.”

You walked towards the queen, her hands taking yours as she reached out towards you; “I have a surprise!”

You stiffened in surprise as you felt someone's hands cover your eyes from behind. They were soft and delicate, they surely belonged to a woman.

“Guess who!” the cheery voice called out. You recognized you it belonged to immediately. Wiping your head around you made eye contact with her.

“Tonia!” you said, opening your arms wide for a hug to which she readily accepted, “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too!” she cried, “Exchanging letters was nice but it doesn’t compare to truly hearing your voice!”

The queen laughed as the two of you continued to hug each other. After several minutes of catching up in the garden, the princess turned to her mother and then to you again.

“Oh!” she said, “Mother, Y/n, there is someone I want to introduce you to.”

The princess then took both of your arms in hers, and the three of you made your way back through the courtyard. You had a good idea of what the princess was going to show you, but you could hardly contain your excitement when you entered the quarters and saw her. Tonia’s daughter, Princess Eudora, had just recently turned three years old. 

Tonia grabbed her little girl and handed her off to her mother, the queen. Who had tears in her eyes as she held her granddaughter for the first time. The girl had dark brown hair like her father, but blue eyes the same shade as Tonia’s. 

“I wonder where my boys are right now,” you said out loud, “I’m sure they would love to meet their little cousin.”

“Guards,” the queen said as rocked her granddaughter, “Go to the training quarters and receive Alexandros and Simonides. Tell them the queen demands their presence.”

“Mother! You’re going to scare them!” Tonia laughed. The queen had never truly gotten over using her summoning powers in a way that could send chills down someone's spine. You remembered it quite well, the first two years you had known her, you remember the intense anxiety of being summoned by the queen even when you had done nothing wrong.

Not even twenty minutes had gone by when your two boys appeared before you, excited as could be.

“Mother!” Alex said, racing to be at your side, “Can we please hold, Eudora? We promise to be gentle!”

“Alex!” Simon angrily whispered, nudging his brother’s arm.

“Simon’s right,” you said, “Remember your manners and greet the queen and princess first. Alex’s eyes opened wide, shocked at the fact he failed to remember a proper greeting.

“Grandmother,” Alex said as he and Simon bowed, “Aunt Tonia.”

Just as quickly, the boys shedded their formalities and raced over to the queen, who laughed as she handed her granddaughter over to Simon. Alex protested before eventually coming to terms with the fact he would have to be patient and wait his turn. Once he had finally had the chance to hold his cousin, he turned to you.

“Would you like to hold her, Mother?” he asked, grabbing the baby’s hand and waving it around.

“I would love to,” you said.

And so for the rest of the morning, the six of you spent your time in both the guest chambers and the garden, entertaining the young Eudora. You laughed as you watched your sons chase her around the garden as well as when she ‘tackled’ Alex to the floor. You drank your wine and listened to the bard’s music in bliss as you awaited the meeting at court that afternoon.

–––––––––

“I, Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, sister of Priam, and wife of Telamon, sit before you today acting in the interest of the king who is too ill to join us. My decision on each matter is representative and acting in the best interest of the crown and the kingdom.”

The queen delivered the same speech at the start of each meeting for the past several years following the illness of Telamon. In a room full of powerful men, it was important she established herself as a woman of great power and prestige, but also someone who valued morals. You sat in the chair directly next to the head of the table; you were at the queen’s side, readily available for whenever she needed you.

“Today, we are joined by a few special guests,” she said, using her arm to guide everyone’s eyes to the further end of the table, “Nicostratus, Crowned Prince of Sparta, and his wife, my daughter, the Princess Tonia.”

Next, she guided her arm to where you sat or, more accurately, next to where you sat; “My grandsons, the Prince Alexandros, future king of Salamis, and Simonides, his younger brother.”

“Today we hear petitions from various peasants,” she continued, “They will be in regards to land disputes, taxes, and family rivalries. I expect you all to give me counsel, when you are asked to do so, that acts not in the interest of personal ambitions, but instead what would be best for the kingdom.”

And so for the next several hours you and your children sat in court, hearing petitions from various families all with different concerns. Some of it was interesting, some of it was not. Whenever the queen was in need of counsel, she would either turn to you or to her master of economics. The afternoon passed without much quarrel, and after eating dinner with your larger-than-usual family you sent the three children off to sleep.

“Y/n, wait a moment!” Tonia said as you were exiting the dining hall, “Don’t go to bed yet– come with me.”

“What are we going to do?” you asked, playfully raising your eyebrow in suspicion, “Rob the master of economics?”

Tonia threw her head back in laughter, “No silly! We're going to sneak into my grandfather's office!”

“What? No!” you whispered, but it was too late, Tonia had already began to drag you across the palace halls.

“Trust me, Y/n,” she said, “the stuff we’ll find in here is gonna be worth the trouble it takes to get it.” 

Tonia led you to a small room with nothing but a trap door. You began to protest once you realized the implications of what that meant: you were going to have to go in it. But with the princess’s pestering you eventually complied. You were crawling on your hands and knees for what felt like an eternity until Tonia suddenly shot her head up, effectively opening the other end of the trap door.

The ‘office’ of King Telamon’s father was less of a workspace and much more of a library. There were shelves upon shelves of books, scrolls, and hieroglyphics on papyrus. Tonia immediately began looking around the books despite the fact the shelves were at least thirty feet high. You instead decided to peek around what looked like a desk of pure gold at the center of the vast room. 

Despite the fact the previous king had been dead for several decades, there was a scroll open that was far more recent. The date at the top of it read that it was from thirty years ago, just days after when you were born. You laughed at the coincidence before taking a seat on the old, wooden chair, but you stop laughing immediately when you read the name of the author. It was your father. Although under most circumstances you knew better not to read letters that were not addressed to you without permission, you concluded that this letter was a particular exception. Though looking back, you wished you had never read it at all. It began with:

My dear friend,

I write to you with a heavy heart and a great sense of urgency. As you know, following my studies in Athens, I trained to be a priest of the goddess Hebe. 

It seems my ambition has led me down a path of great regret. It was a late night several moons ago when I was taking a walk down the beach. I had gotten into a great fight with a fellow priest over a sacrifice that had gone wrong. I was ever certain I was in the right, but when my superior scolded me I lashed out and fled the scene. It was there when I saw her the first time. The great goddess, my light, my savior, Hebe. She came towards me offering help, to overthrow the ‘corrupt’ head priest and instate myself in his place.

Together we collaborated for months, and it wasn’t until I was in the trenches of our passion that I realized I was completely and irrevocably in love. She was married, that was true, but I knew that gods did not value fidelity as strongly as humans do, even the women. And so we began our secret affair of which I wholeheartedly participated knowing I was sacrificing my dignity, honor, and manhood. But still I could not stop, my heart and head at war. 

I suppose it was only a matter of time until the other priests found out. Jealous, angered, or genuinely betrayed I did not know, but it became clear to me that I was no longer welcomed as a religious leader. Matters were only made worse when the subject of this letter, my daughter, was brought before me by the goddess.

She explained that this child was the result of love, but that she could not keep her. Despite her trying to keep a secret, some of the other gods, including Zeus, her father, had found out about her affair with her own priest. My hubris, my believing I was worthy of loving a goddess as a god would, was my downfall. A curse was put upon not only me, but also my daughter. We would both be casted down for our love. Rapid aging has already set in for me as I feel my life slipping away every passing second.

But for my daughter, it does not have to be like this. Take her in as a serving girl. Help me protect her from the god’s wrath and my own deadly pride. If not you, then who will?

I hope to hear from you soon,

Your old friend

You shrieked. You cried out. You felt faint.

Tonia rushed to your side, confused by your fit of emotion. When she realized she could not calm you down, she was sent running down the hall in search of someone for help.

The room felt as though it spun. How could this be possible? You spent your entire life thinking your mother, the woman who gave you life, was nothing more than a common whore who ruined your fathers career through seduction. If your mother was a goddess, Hebe, goddess of youth and cupbearer of the gods, that meant you were half god. But that made no sense as you felt less than special in each aspect of life.

Yet it was true, it all made sense. Your father’s fear of the gods and how they would harm you, his dedication to warning people of fatal sins through the stories he would share, and his untimely death early in life.

By the time several handmaidens arrived with help, you had already pulled yourself up the ground and began racing to your chambers. Not even Tonia could stop you as you locked yourself in your room and ran to where you kept your quill and paper: you had to write Ajax immediately. 

Not even an hour had passed when you had finished your letter, sealed it up, and began to walk towards the door in search of a servant to hand it to. That's when you realized you were hearing sobs from the other side of the door.

Swinging it open stood, your eyes widened in fear. There stood several handmaidens, Queen Hesione who was cradling a sobbing Tonia, Headpriest Dimitri, and several guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” you asked, suddenly feeling very guilty for your emotional outburst, “I didn’t mean to frighten any of you–”

“Your majesty,” one of the serving girls cut you off, eyes wide with terror, “We came here with urgent news, well, to tell you of–um.”

“Y/n,” Dimitri cut her off, “Ajax is dead.”