#also if anyone is wondering it's NOT a twilight fic

[arecaceae175]

Hello! I noticed that some of your fics on Ao3 are tagged "Screen Reader Friendly," and I wondered what makes a fic screen reader friendly. Is it just about formatting, or does content matter too?

Hi, thank you so much for asking this question!!! Disclaimer I am not visually impaired so all of this information I have learned by seeing blind or visually impaired people talk about this issue.

It’s primarily formatting! I’ll list everything I do to try to make my fics accessible here.

Line breaks!!! Use the ao3 line break code instead of adding a bunch of symbols. This is the biggest thing I had to change once I realized my fics were not screen reader friendly.

HOWEVER some screen readers won’t pick up on the horizontal line, either. Another good option is to use a short series of symbols, for example: “~~” or “- - -“

Basically, just don’t use more than three symbols in a row. I used to use “~~~/\~~~” with a delta symbol in the middle to look like the triforce, but a screen reader would see that and say “asterisk asterisk asterisk delta asterisk asterisk asterisk” which is pretty annoying lol

Most screen readers don’t differentiate between regular text and bold/italics. It’s fine to have those in your story, but if the bold/italics significantly changes the plot or the implications of a sentence then it is not screen reader friendly

Screen readers can’t describe a line break that is just an empty space. For example, in one of my fics I have a character reading a note, and I have an extra ‘return button’ space before and after the note to make the note distinct from the rest of the text. To make that fic more screen reader friendly, instead of just an empty space, I wrote “[Line Break]”. That way, a screen reader can say “line break”, and readers still recognize it as a line break

If you have any sort of chat fic (AND this goes for hashtags on tumblr too!) with screen names, be sure to distinguish the separate words in the screen name. You can do this with by capitalizing the first letter of each word like this “ScreenNameHere” or with dashes in between each word “screen-name-here”. That helps screen readers and also people with things like dyslexia who have trouble distinguishing words if they aren’t capitalized or separated in some way.

Screen readers can read image emojis like this smiley face 😁 because they have embedded alt text, but they can’t read text emojis as an emoji, like this one “:D”. If you use any of those in your fic, add a description like this: “ :D [Image description: text emoji of a smiley face with a big, open mouthed smile. End description].”

Also, this one doesn’t have to do with a screen reader, but if you have an image embedded in your story, keep these things in mind:

Be sure to describe the image so anyone who is blind or visually impaired can still experience the image. I don’t think it’s possible to add alt text to the actual image, so I usually put this below the image: “[Image ID: description of the image. Note the important details, but be as concise as you can. /End ID]”. Including the image description instead of some sort of alt text is good for DeafBlind people who can’t see the image well enough but don’t use a screen reader.

Some blind or visually impaired people don’t use a screen reader and instead zoom in on the text. If an image is embedded in the story, be sure it is sized correctly. If it isn’t, it can make scrolling sideways to read zoomed in text more difficult because it makes the webpage much wider than the text itself.

Not all my fics have the screen reader friendly tag because 1. There might be a few I haven’t updated yet, and 2. I didn’t include the tag on fics that have weird formatting or are accent heavy. For example, in Kinship I wrote Twilight’s dialogue to represent his strong accent, and those kinds of things with apostrophes and half-words don’t come through well with a screen reader.

I personally don’t think it’s good practice to include a ton of apostrophes or shortened words to distinguish an accent. Even for people not using screen readers, it’s hard to read. For me, if I see a fic with things like that, I won’t read it. Maybe try having a few words that the character’s accent comes through on, or write something about their heavy accent outside of the dialogue.

The “Screen Reader Friendly” tag isn’t an officially recognized AO3 tag yet, but the more people who use it, the sooner it will be!

Those are all the things I can think of right now. If anyone has any other tips to add, please do so!!

[links-in-time]

Sword and Dagger

This fic is for @mmelete and anyone else who wants to see some reconciliation and comfort between Legend and Warriors. They are two of my favourite LU boys and I wish they got along more in people's fics.

------------------------~~~------------------------

"LEGEND!" Warriors voice rang out across the camp.

A smile curled the corner of the Vet's mouth as he continued adding wood to the fire. He managed to surpress his laughter. This was going to be hilarious.

The stomping of boots grew louder as Wars stormed across the clearing towards where Legend was kneeling by the fire. Something solid collided with Legend's shoulder, hard and fast. He dropped the last branch he had been holding and clutched at his arm. Looking down he saw the offending projectile. A squat brown glass jar filled with clear gel.

"Ouch!" Legend grunted, rubbing furiously at his new bruise. "What the fuck?!"

"What the fuck?" Wars echoed, turning the question back on Legend.

Around the clearing the rest of the boys couldn't help but stop what they were doing and turn their attention to this latest argument. Time let out a sigh and rubbed at his brow before turning back to his journal. Wild continued chopping vegetables for dinner. He hated it when the others were fighting, it made his anxiety spike and he would rather be literally anywhere else in the world when his brothers were at each others throats.

Four, Hyrule and Sky pretended to carry on with their own activities. Still keeping an eye on the argument about to break out by the fire. Wind was mercifully down by the stream, and hopefully out of earshot of the screaming match that had already begun. While Twilight was out on patrol.

"You arse! You put glue in my hair gel!" Wars bellowed, pointing accusingly down at Legend. His other fist balled and shaking at his side.

Time couldn't help but flick his eye up from his journal to Warriors. He also couldn't help the minute smile which crept upon his lips. Wars' hair, which was usually kept almost immaculate, was a mess. The left side was stuck down so flat it almost followed the shape of his skull. While the right side was stuck up in the air at odd angles. He looked like he'd been caught in a sudden gust of wind. Except there was no breeze. Only a livid scowl and the pointing finger which refused to leave its mark.

"You mean your hair CAN look even more stupid than normal?" Legend replied nonchalantly. His eyes remaining on the fire.

"You little shit! Now my comb is clogged up with glue and hair and I'm gonna have to get a new one, thank you very much! Not to mention what a pain in the arse this is going to be to clean out. What the hell man? What did I do to you?!"

Warriors continued to berate, oblivious to anyone except the object of his fury.

It wasn't really about his hair. Well, it was almost certainly about his hair. But Wars wasn't as vain as people liked to assume he was. Just because he was considered more handsome than most, didn't mean he was constantly preening himself. Sure he liked to look neat and presentable, but that was mostly from a life spent in the army. A soldier could be seriously disciplined for failing to dress correctly or for having scruffy hair. Every soldier was a representative of Hyrule itself. So heaven forbid that Wars always took care in making sure he was the best goddess damned image of Hyrule he could muster.

His real bug-bare was why Legend seemed to have singled him out for his pranks and jibes. Legend teased Wars for his good looks constantly. Not that Wars thought any of the others was less good looking than himself. Perhaps the Vet hadn't seen himself in a mirror for a while. If it wasn't his looks or his scarf, it was his military service, or his rank, or his loyalty to the crown. Legend could turn any trait of Warriors' into a snide remark aimed just right to get under the Captain's skin. Wars sometimes wondered if it was actually some special talent of Legend's. Like a little dagger specifically designed to be able to pick someone apart all the while laughing at them.

"Oh no, you'll have to spend some of that soldiers wage you keep bragging about!" Legend scoffed, batting the pot of gel and glue away from himself.

"What?" Wars shook his head in surprise. This was not the reaction he thought he was going to get. "Since when have I bragged about my wages?"

Wars finally looked around the camp at the rest of the heroes. Sky unfortunately managed to catch his eye and Wars latched onto his gaze.

"Sky, I don't brag about money, do I?" He asked furvently, still radiating rage and confusion.

"Um, well," Sky stammered, shrinking under Wars' intense gaze. "Not as such. But you're kind of the only one of us with an actual job."

Wars processed that for a second. He'd never considered soldiering to be a job, but it did come with a regular pay packet. So far as he could tell the only one of them who got payed for work was the Smithy. Four was an accomplished blacksmith with his own business. He had to make a decent amount of money for the work he produced. So that couldn't be the only reason Legend had singled Wars out. This couldn't be about money.

"Four has a job!" Wars pointed out.

"Hey, leave me out of this," Four stated firmly. "This is between you and Lege, figure it out without pointing fingers at the rest of us."

Four kept his eyes on the sword he was polishing, but Sky noticed they took on a verdent green hew as he spoke. He wanted to ask about it, but knew now was definitely not the time to be starting other conversations.

"Yeah Captain, why don't you pick on someone your own size!" Legend barked, drawing Warriors attention again.

"Pick on..? You're not that short!" Wars spat back.

"Oh so I am short, but not that short!" Legend retorted.

"Come on boys, please knock it off," Time groaned.

He tipped his head back against the tree behind him and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Your screaming match is giving me a headache. Plus I can't imagine anything living within a mile radius of this camp is thanking you either." Time said with a sigh.

"But he..." Wars began, but Time put up a hand to stop him talking.

"Legend, apologise for your prank," Time insisted, fixing Legend with his one eyed stare.

Legend flicked his gaze away to the ground, avoiding the Old Man's piercing eye.

"M'sorry," he grumbled under his breath.

"Right," Time nodded.

"Really, that's an acceptable apology to you?!" Wars scoffed.

"Wars, I'll buy you a new comb and gel in the next town we find. And in the morning I'll help you wash the glue out of your hair. Alright?"

Time turned his gaze onto Wars, who knew from the look on his face that it was going to be alright whether he liked it or not.

"Fine!" Wars turned on the spot and walked decisively towards his bed roll.

He picked it up and dragged it a few metres further away from the fire and set it down with a resounding thump. Wars quickly shucked his armour and his mail and tunic, before shoving himself under his blankets and all but throwing his head onto his pillow.

The rest of the Chain didn't hear a single peep out of their Captain for the rest of the night. Sulking or sleeping, no one had the courage to go and find out. At one point Hyrule asked Legend if he felt bad about how far his prank had gone.

"He deserves being taken down a peg every now and then." Was his response.

But even as he said the words, Legend felt no real emotion behind them. No truth. He'd taken a strange disliking to the Captain not long after they'd all met. He was rigid and calculating. Absurd in the attention he gave to his looks and infuriating in the way that he never deviated from a plan. Legend felt no spark of curiosity or adventure when he took a peek at Wars' aura. His magic felt strong like the rest of the Links, but it also felt tame and rigid. As though it had been pushed into a box which was too small.

Of all the Links in his company, Wars was the one he just couldn't figure out. And the one who reminded him the most of some of the worst days of his life. So he lashed out. Made jokes at his expense, played pranks he knew would get a rise out of the Captain, because it was a laugh. And what else was he supposed to do with someone who was as stiff as a board?

***

Time didn't get a chance to clean Warriors hair. Hyrule woke everyone up in the middle of his watch to the news that a portal had appeared not far from their camp. He'd felt the unique magical signature the moment it appeared and quickly ran to see what had happened. The dark swirl of black and purple bridged the space between two trees. A void deadening all light and sound around it.

Hyrule had hurried back to camp and quickly roused everyone. Unusually, Wars was the last man to finish packing his gear. And he was at the back of the line as they broke camp and followed Hyrule towards the new portal. While no one could see him, Wars attempted to flatten down the worst parts of his hair, but with little to no success. The glue had done a fine job and he'd worked it through so thoroughly with his comb, that it perfectly coated his hair. Forcing it into its current state. He let out a defeated sigh and trudged through the forest without taking much notice of his surroundings.

The shady woodland was soon replaced by the now familiar unsettling feeling of being pulled through a dark place. Wars had the uncontrollable sensation of nausia and dizziness which was concurrent with a portal jump. He was one of the few who suffered the least from time jumps, but he counted himself lucky. Wind and Four often verged on passing out after walking through a portal. While Hyrule could be left feeling dizzy and disoriented for up to an hour. Not helpful if there was danger waiting on the other side.

As the blackness faded away and the sickening sensations passed, Wars felt the bitter chill of icy weather biting at his skin. He looked up and had to blink twice before he believed what he was seeing.

Everything was white.

Everything except the red, blue and streak of pink hair in the near distance, which could only be Legend.

Wars grumbled, wrapping his arms around himself as he shoved his chin into his scarf. This was not going to be a pleasant day.

"Cap?" Legend howled over the rushing of the wind pelting his ears.

His hair flew every which way and he held onto his cap to prevent it being tugged off his head. His tunic whipped around his bare knees and he winced against the sting of the snow as it hit his exposed legs. Surely the Captain would tease him for not wearing trousers at some point.

The Captain! Legend suddenly thought with a jolt. Where in Din's name was everyone else?

"Captain!" He called again.

Wars wasn't very far away, but still Legend's voice sounded like a whisper rather than a holler. Squinting against the driving snow and leaning into the wind Wars trudged towards the colourful blob in front of him.

"I can hear you Legend. Where's everyone else?" He called in reply.

"No clue. They were right with us when we went through the portal."

Wars heard something about Legend not having a clue. (Nothing new there) And the portal.

"Great," Wars sighed.

This wasn't the first time the Chain had been separated by portal jumps before. Usually they were only split up by a short distance. They never settled on a plausible theory as to why this happened, though Wars had some pretty convincing ideas of his own. However, upon a quick scan of the surrounding empty countryside, Wars couldn't discern any other notable figures in the landscape. Legend and he supposed he himself, were the only dots of colour in an otherwise colourless world.

The snow storm showed no signs of blowing over and even tall trees had been mostly hidden by the onslaught of snow and ice. When Wars reached Legend, his next move would be to look for shelter. Hopefully the sour veteran would be cooperative enough to help rather than hinder Warriors efforts to keep them both alive.

"Looks like we got split up again. And we don't have Wild or the Sailor with us to contact anyone. We need to find shelter or we'll both catch our deaths in this cold." Wars said through chattering teeth.

Legend shuddered at the thought of just trying to walk through the thick snow around them. He could already feel the chill in his core as he pulled his hat down over his ears, and shoved his hands under his armpits to keep his fingers from freezing.

"Any suggestions?" He uttered, struggling to breath with lungs full of ice.

"Let's walk downhill," Wars decided, trying to think logically while his brain was telling him to just stop and get warm. "The cold will be less intense if we reach a lower altitude, and there's more likely to be shelter the lower we go. If we stay up here on the hill tops we'll freeze to death."

"Downhill it is then," Legend nodded.

Wars raised an eyebrow at how easily Legend had followed his suggestion. But he didn't dare question it unless Legend suddenly decided to have an argument about it.

"You want me to go ahead or behind?" He asked.

"You can cut through the deep snow easier than I can, you go first."

"Right."

"Plus, if you fall in a hole I'll know not to step there!" Legend snorted.

"Right," Wars said flatly.

So they began their slow slog down the hill. The wind was mercifully behind them, but still bitterly cold. Wars took a leaf out of Legend's book and pulled his old hat out of his bag. He tugged it tight down over his ears and tucked the end into his scarf so it wouldn't flap about. Wars could feel his steel mail freezing but there wasn't anything he could do about that now. His undershirt would keep it from touching his skin, but it wouldn't do anything to keep him warm. He just preyed they would find some kind of shelter and soon.

They walked for what felt like hours before the ground began to level out. The trees became a more frequent sight and though the storm was still raging, even a meagre tree cover was better than nothing.

"We could stop and make a fire here?" Wars suggested, looking about at the tall pines around them.

"Our stuff will just get wet if we stop here. We should keep looking for shelter. A cave or a cabin or something," Legend replied with a shake of his head. Though it could have just been from the cold.

"How d'you know there'll be one?"

"I don't, but... I'd rather keep looking than stop here and freeze. At least if we're moving we're keeping some sort of body heat." Legend explained.

"Me maybe, aren't you freezing?" Wars scoffed, eyeing Legend's bare legs which looked raw and red.

"Yeah I am, thanks for reminding me!"

"Sorry, I was just thinking you might want to stop?" Wars remarked.

"Because I'm small and fragile?" Legend snorted.

"What? NO?" Wars balked. "Because you're wearing less clothes and you're more likely to die more quickly of exposure than I am."

"It's not a competition Captain!" Legend hissed over his shoulder as he continued to walk in front of Wars. "Besides, I'm far more adaptive than you anyway. Who's to say who would win that competition?!"

"It's not a competition to see who dies first either Lege!" Wars sighed, hurrying to stay with the turbulent Vet.

Their argument died as they continued to walk through the snow covered forest. Icicles hung ominously from tree branches over head. Wind whipped through the trees, shaking loose drifts of snow. The only sounds were the howling of the wind, and their laboured breathing as the two boys marched through the snow drifts.

"Hut!" Legend exclaimed.

Wars head shot up at the sound and looked ahead. A squat wooden structure sat among the trees just a few yards away from them. Legend immediately took off towards it, with Wars only a few steps behind him. The veteran hero threw his shoulder into the door as he turned the handle, but there was less resistance than he had anticipated and the door swung open freely.

It was an extremely modest dwelling and it clearly hadn't been used for some time. There was a single cot in one corner. A fireplace set into the back wall and boarded up windows on the opposing sides.

"I'll be damned, maybe the gods do love us after all," Legend sighed, as he spotted a stack of logs in the corner by the fire.

Warriors quickly shut the door behind them and hefted his pack onto the floor beside the bed. His first instinct was to leave some kind of sign for the others telling them where they were. If this storm didn't break soon, the two of them might find themselves stuck for a while. If the others came looking, Warriors wanted them to find him and Legend as soon as possible.

He pulled out a pouch of berries Wild had picked for him and stared at it, turning the object over in his mind. The colour would stand out against the stark surroundings, but he doubted the juice would stick to the door of the hut on its own. Another thought wormed it's way into his mind and he groaned at how good his idea was.

Wars searched for his old pot of hair gel and found it in his pocket of useless objects he kept meaning to throw away. He opened the lid and was relieved to find it hadn't completely hardened. Wars crushed a few of the berries into the jar and mashed the mixture together with his fingers. When the gel-glue had turned a vivid pink colour, he quickly left the hut.

"Hey! Where are you...?"

Wars heard Legend say as he pulled the door open and quickly used his fingers to write on the outside of the wooden door. It was rough and untidy. But his makeshift paint did the job. The bright pink of the berries having the desired affect. Wars spelled out the quickest and easiest thing he could think of before letting too much cold back into the hut. After he was finished he quickly washed his hands off with some snow, closed the door and threw the jar of paint back into his pack.

"What was that about?" Legend asked incredulously.

Wars sighed contently as he saw the fire blooming into life behind Legend. But he swallowed before answering his question.

"I was leaving a sign for the others in case they come looking for us. Hopefully someone will be able to see it even if they don't notice the hut right away."

"Huh, that's actually pretty smart," Legend nodded, turning to throw some more kindling onto his tender flames.

"Did you just call me smart?" Wars jibed.

"I called you pretty smart, you know, the same way seagulls are pretty smart," Legend scoffed, avoiding Warriors gaze.

"Right."

Wars shook his head and turned back to his pack. He pulled out his bed roll and set it on the floor beside the fire. Legend waisted no time settling himself onto it and rubbing at his legs to stimulate some warmth. Wars pulled out his blanket and pillow and some spare shirts to replace the one he was wearing. It would be wet with both sweat and snowmelt and would quickly make him cold if he didn't change it soon. Speaking of.

"Hey, um, Legend," Wars said tentatively. Hating himself for the next words about to come out of his mouth. "Can you help me for a minute?"

"Help you with what?" Legend groaned.

"I can't take my armour or my mail off, they're too cold to touch. Can you put some gloves on and help me?" He asked, trying to convey as much sincerity in his voice and expression as he could muster.

Legend let out the longest sigh Wars had ever heard. But still, the Vet pushed himself to his feet and crossed the cabin to where Wars stood.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

Wars quickly found an old pair of gloves in his pack (not fingerless ones) and handed them to Legend. Although Wars had to point Legend in the right direction a couple of times, Legend quickly helped Wars take off his pauldron and laid it on the floor near the fire for it to warm up. His tunic came off with ease but his mail was more difficult. Legend managed to buch it up around Warriors shoulders, then got him to bed over and slid the whole shirt off onto the floor over his head.

"Well that's just insanely stupid!" Legend scoffed, as he picked up the heavy lump of clinking metal.

"It's saved my life more times than I can count," Wars retorted, trying to shake out his hair before rembering he couldn't.

Legend layed the mail shirt out on the other side of the fire and Wars wondered at the care which the Vet showed to something he clearly disapproved of.

"Why don't you just try not to get hit. Then you wouldn't have to wear something so heavy?" He proffered.

"Is that why you stopped wearing trousers?" Wars remarked in return.

"Touche."

Wars quickly undressed and pulled two clean shirts over his shivering body. He wanted to put his tunic back on as another layer, but that was pretty wet as well. The garment and his scarf, joined his armour by the fire and he settled for pulling a blanket around his shoulders instead.

Legend scooted along the bed roll slightly to let Wars sit down in front of the fire. The warmth hit him in a similar way to the snow. His face and hands tingled as his skin came back to life.

"Ahhh," Wars couldn't help the sigh which escaped him. "Nice work getting the fire going."

Legend looked at him sideways but decided not to turn the simple statement into an argument.

"Thanks, and you're welcome by the way, for helping you out."

"Thanks for that, I'm usually alright doing it by myself. But, I've known people who touched frozen mail before and ended up with the pattern burned into their skin by the cold." Wars explained, his expression turning pensive as his memories trickled into his mind.

"Huh, yeah that would suck." Legend nodded.

Legend finally decided to take off his hat and tunic and let them dry out alongside Warriors clothes. He found his own blanket and draped it over his knees. After that the pair fell into an uncomfortable silence as their bodies began to warm. They could hear the storm raging on outside their little bubble of calm, but the hut was fairly draft free. Plus there were enough logs to keep them going for at least a few days if necessary.

Wars didn't want to sit in silence. He'd hated the periods of his life when he hadn't been able to talk. Since being with the rest of the Chain he felt like he could speak his mind or his emotions freely, and without reprisal. For the first time in a long time he had almost felt understood, among other people like himself. But then there was Legend. The impenetrable wall of stoicism and spite. It wasn't that they just didn't get on, they were totally different people. And it was infuriatingly difficult for the two of them to see eye to eye. Two heroes of Hyrule, both forged though danger and courage to defend their kingdoms. A sword and a dagger, both deadly weapons, weilded in very different ways.

To Wars' great surprise Legend was the first to break their silence.

"I am sorry about your hair," Legend uttered. If not for their complete quiet, Wars didn't think he would have even noticed the teen had spoken.

"Then why'd you do it?" Wars asked, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"I dunno, thought it would be funny I guess. And it was kinda funny. But after that you were just cross and I knew everyone else would be cross at me for doing it. So, I dunno." Legend shrugged, turning his face away so Wars couldn't see his own confusion.

"Have I done something to make you mad at me for some reason? If I have it definitely wasn't intentional Legend," Wars questioned, searching Legend's posture for some kind of response.

"No, that's not..." Legend tried to push some words out his mouth. But his brain and his lips weren't complying with one another.

Why was he even trying to explain himself to the Captain of all people? He wouldn't understand even if Legend could organise his thoughts. He just knew he wouldn't. So why try at all?

"Forget I even said anything alright. You clearly don't know how to accept an apology."

Just like that Wars watched Legend's walls close in and his mask slip back into place. He radiated the energy of a feral animal, terrified something would come near him. Wars hovered beside him, torn between trying to comfort his friend, and dropping the issue altogether. The hero inside him couldn't bare to do the latter, so he grit his teeth and pushed on.

"Lege, do you hate me?" He asked softly, ready to take the answer he was anticipating.

That made Legend lift his head and face Warriors. A frown creased his brow.

"No, of course I don't hate you?" He said. "Why would you think I hate you?"

"I don't know, the relentless teasing. Hiding my stuff, the glue. You're constantly on my case. It's like you're trying to rile me up so much that I don't want to be with the group any more." Wars rambled on until he had said more than he meant to.

"You don't want to be with the group anymore?" Legend's frown deepend.

"No, I mean yes." Wars sighed, this was coming out all wrong. "Of course I want to be with the group. You boys mean the world to me. But I just get the feeling I don't mean anything to you. Or if I do it's not a good feeling. And that hurts Legend. Everything you do, I know it's little things and if they weren't so often I could brush them aside and maybe even laugh at them. But what you're doing to me, it really hurts. And I don't know why else you'd hurt me if you didn't hate me."

Wars closed his eyes and curled in on himself, his fingers dug into the blanket, knuckles turning while. He only realised he was crying when he felt a drop slip down onto his lip.

Legend sat stock still. He was so stunned he had to give himself a mental slap across the face and grab hold of the situation in front of him. The Captain, Warriors, their chief planner and strategist, his brother, thought he hated him.

"I don't, hate you," he said slowly.

Goddesses he was terrible with emotions. Turns out he was terrible at reading certain people too. Legend thought Warriors was all stoicism and army and, 'look at me aren't I so smart and better than every one!' How could he have got it so wrong.

He knew how.

Months of being hunted by royal soldiers haunted his nightmares. Days and nights spent on the run, accused of a crime he hadn't committed. A crime he was trying to stop for Din's sake! Shining steel and the sound of clinking mail made his skin crawl. Just helping Warriors take his off had sent him to the edge of reliving those memories. But he'd done it because his brother needed his help. Now he was hearing Wars doubted him so completely.

Legend was a difficult person to love. He knew that. He was all hard edges and scepticism. How Ravio not only put up with him, but genuinely loved him, he'd never know. The crazy merchant had latched onto him and never let him go. Ravio had opened his heart to the possibility that he could actually love and be loved in return.

"I didn't take to being the hero as easily as everyone thought I did," Wars said softly.

Legend raised an eyebrow, not at the words, but at the fact that Wars had spoken first. He was almost ready with a speach and everything. But Wars sounded like he was about to get something off his chest, and Legend was happy to hear him out.

"The war had just started. Cia's monsters were ravaging the lands. The Hero was on everyone's lips. And then the Hero was me. I was the one she was after. The spirit of the Hero lived inside me and she wanted it for herself. The lengths she went through to try and claim me, I shudder now to even remember it. I knew how to be a soldier. A Hero was something different. It's alright for a soldier to fail. That just means the enemy was stronger and better prepared than you. You can learn something from failing and do better in the next fight.

But as a Hero, you're not allowed to fail. You win or you lose and if you lose you'd better prepare for people to turn against you. When you're an image people cling to in times of dispare, you do everything you can to help and to live up to their expectations. I tried so hard to be everything people needed me to be. I hardly ever let myself think about what I wanted. Because it didn't matter. I had a job to do and that was all that mattered."

Wars paused and sighed, his chin resting heavy on his arms as they crossed over his knees. Though his voice sounded steady, tears slowly streaked down his face.

"I guess I still have it in my head that everyone needs me to be perfect. If I'm not, then I'm letting someone down. It doesn't matter how good a swordsman I am, or how many enemies I defeat. If I put a foot wrong, if I fail somehow, I fail Hyrule."

"I have a thing about soldiers," Legend sighed. If they were sharing he probably aught to do his bit. "On one of my adventures a guy called Agahnim accused me of kidnapping Zelda. He had some kind of hold over the soldiers and he made them come after me constantly. They put up wanted posters and ordinary Hylians saw me as the enemy who kidnapped their princess. I was on the run for months. Soldiers tried to grab me everywhere I went. I don't know if they had orders to kill me but they certainly weren't gentle in their efforts.

When you first showed up on this journey, for a brief moment I thought you were the enemy. The thing Hylia had sent us to fight. A knight gone rogue. I don't think I ever really got over that feeling. The idea that, at some point you were going to turn on me. So I kept you at a distance, kept pushing you away."

There was a brief moment of silence before Wars chuckled. He snorted a laugh as Legend shot him an incredulous glare.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. That sounds like a nightmare. But it's kind of ironic," Wars tilted his head as the thoughts swirled.

"Ironic?" Legend parroted, utterly bemused.

"I had my fair share of betrayals during the war." Wars replied, his tone souring. "During one battle, half my troops turned against me. They called me a traitor, claimed the war was my fault. I had to-to fight men and women I had fought alongside for years. They gave me no choice. I still hear their screams.

So it's ironic you thought I was going to turn out to be a traitor. When I've spent most of this journey trying to convince myself that all of you won't turn against me at some point. None of you ever gave me reason to think you would, but the memories still haunt me. So when you push and you tease and you torment me, it feels like..."

"Like your fears are founded in something?" Legend filled in, the bottom falling out of his heart as he spoke.

"Yeah, and when the others laugh and join in with the joke. Sometimes it's hard to make myself believe they don't mean it." Wars paused and turned his body so he was facing Legend more directly. "I'm sorry I make you feel nervous Lege. If I'd known I would have done something. Changed my clothes, I would have lost the scarf, the armour. If it stopped you thinking I would turn on you, I'd have done anything."

"You're sorry?!" Legend barked a laugh. He could feel warmth behind his eyes. But he hoped he would be able to keep speaking before he started crying. "Cap, Wars, I never thought about how what I was doing would make you feel. I - I suppose I did a bit and watching someone like you, a soldier, make a fool of themselves made me feel good I guess. I suppose that makes me a terrible bully." Keep going, deep breath, almost there. "And I know I can't take any of it back. Farore knows I wish I could. But since I can't I want to say how sorry I am. I'm sorry I singled you out. I'm sorry I made you feel betrayed, and I'm sorry I made you think I didn't love you."

"You love me?" Wars frowned as he sniffed.

"Of course I do you big dumb idiot!" Legend smiled, as tears began to overflow down his cheeks. Damn it.

"Haha, that's really sweet of you!" Wars laughed, but the sarcasm was clearly received.

"Sorry, I'm not good at emotions," Legend shrugged. "But I do mean it. I love you, and all the boys, and I will try my very best not to let you feel hurt by my awkward nature again."

"You really do mean it, don't you?" Wars said slowly, searching Legend's eyes for any sign this was another joke of his. He just hadn't reached the punch line yet.

But there was nothing but warmth and sincerity to be found. Wars hard hardly ever seen the Vet cry. But that wasn't important, he was crying too after all. Legend had opened up to him. Explained himself at last. All the pieces slotted into place and at last Wars could see Legend for who he really was. A frightened kid lashing out in order to protect himself. A kid who had seen more horrors and been through more hardships than any of their brothers. Perhaps more than all of them combined. And yet he had enough love left inside him for all of them. Even for Warriors himself.

"I love you too Legend."

Wars dropped his knees and spread his arms wide. Legend sniffed back a sob and crawled his way into Warriors embrace. Wars wrapped Legend up in his blanket, Legend's sightly damp hair tickling his neck. But he ignored it. They were both hurting and it meant the world to both of them to be able to comfort each other. Legend clamped his arms around Wars' waist, his face buried in Wars' shoulder. The warmth of the blanket and Warriors body heat spread through his frigid limbs and kindled a fire in his heart.

"Let's never fight again," Legend mumbled after a while. He felt more than heard Wars laugh against him.

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen!"

"Alright, let's never fight over anything stupid again," Legend corrected, wiggling out of Warriors death grip slightly.

"Right, nothing stupid," Wars nodded.

The motion drew Legend's attention to Warriors hair. He really tried not to smile. He really really tried, but it was just so stupid how it was all stuck up on one side, even after being stuffed into Warriors hat.

"Would you like me to try and fix your hair?" Legend offered, already afraid Wars was going to shut him down.

"How? It's going to take days of washing to get this out?" Wars sighed, deflating a little.

"If I brush it carefully, I can stop it sticking up like that. Then we can wash it properly when we're out of, wherever we are!" Legend insisted more fervently. "Ravio did something similar to me once after I accidentally burned his favourite scarf. He helped me get the worst out of it."

"But I ruined my comb," Wars groaned, remembering the matted clump which had been thrown on the camp fire.

"We can use mine," Legend offered. "We already need to buy a new one for you, what's one more?"

Legend and Wars spent the rest of the evening huddled together by the fire. Though the storm outside showed no signs of letting up, and they hoped the rest of the Chain had found their own shelter somewhere, their little cabin remained cosy. Legend was true to his word and dutifully brushed the worst of the glue out of Wars' hair.

After he was finished, Warriors hair felt softer and was no longer stuck to the side of his head or sticking up in spikes. As Warriors ran a hand through his hair, he could still feel clumps of glue against his fingers. But at least it was workable. The simple act of kindness and repentance Legend had shown filled his heart. Maybe things would be different between them from now on.

"What did you write by the way?" Legend asked, as he sat back down by the fire.

"Write?" Wars frowned.

"On the door of the cabin," Legend reminded him. "You left a sign for the others to find. What did you write? Some kind of code?"

"Ah, no. Not exactly," Wars uttered, cheeks flushing a little pink.

"A symbol?"

"No," Wars sighed, a symbol would have been a good idea. The triforce would have been easily recognised.

"Then what?" Legend prompted, giving Wars a nudge with his elbow.

"I was in a hurry so I wrote the first thing that came into my head," Wars admitted.

"Right, and that was?" Legend urged.

"I um, I wrote Link."

"Link."

"Yep."

... "It's a good thing you're pretty."

---

Once again this became so much longer and went so much deeper than I intended it to go. I should probably go to therapy instead of venting all my stuff into these characters. But therapy is expensive and posting fanfics on Tumbler is free! So you guys get to enjoy my therapy with me, yay!

(Cries internally)

If you want to read more Legend and Warriors then my fic Hobby Boys is much shorter and has way less angst!

[marauders-brain-rot]

Current fics and things that have me in a chokehold

In the order I found them in because I cannot pick a favorite

The Night We Met (Or Didn’t Meet) by moonagedaydreamsx on ao3 ( @lilyflxwers on here). Literally found this a few weeks ago and have obsessively been commenting paragraphs on it and living and dying for it, it’s almost complete and I will be heartbroken when it’s over, (not because it’s a sad ending but because that means no more updates). It’s a wonderful little texting (but not like a texting only fic if that makes sense)/coffee shop jegulus au, we have all the angst and humor and good times in this one. Highly recommend.

Sunkissed by fadingtostardust on ao3 ( @fadingtostardust here as well). Found this one like a day after I found the night we met and it has also had me absolutely insane (the paragraphs I have commented on both of these fics are actually embarrassing, if anyone sees me in the comments, no you fucking didn’t). This one is a wonderful jegulus Twilight au except non-problematic. So like not appropriating native tribes and actually being conscious of things. ALSO the amount of research put into vampire and werewolf lore is insane and the research chapter has fucking HYPERLINKS? Okay, pop off

Broken Records, Broken Hearts by my lovely and incredible friend @maraudering-times this is a socmed band au with literally like every ship almost it’s just getting started but oof when I tell you it’s gonna be a WHOLE THING (I love having insider information, all I can say is I’m very very excited for the parts that have yet to come out so everyone should follow along, I’m obsessed with everything she does and no, I’m not biased at ALL)

I don’t know what it’s called but this jegulus exes socmed au by @ccccatttta oh my god you guys I haven’t been normal about this, not one bit. I’m also in the comments on so many of these just like dying. They post like 8 parts a day or more if we’re lucky so I literally have notifications on here turned on for them because I WILL NOT be missing a single part, nope nope nope. It has humor and angst and it has me climbing and eating my walls

Okay, that’s all the ones that are driving me insane and literally eating my brain right now, I’ve subscribed to them all or turned on notifications for them, and I am hopelessly obsessed and unfortunately I think the authors are incredibly aware of this fact as I don’t even TRY and hide it. I’m shameless your honor, I’m not even gonna pretend I’m sorry about it.

[somer-writes]

hey Somer!! I was wondering if you had any Lu fanfic recommendations? I read so quickly I’ve caught up on all the stories I’m following 🥲

i have A LOT so heres some from people I'm not biased towards XD:

Warriors' Disasster Saga by Arggie - a very funny and well written crack fic

Heart Made of Glass and Mind of Stone by FirefliesNightcore - an extremely good converged timeline au which is time centric

Heart on Your Armour by C_C_Cherry and Jade_Green - Twi angst :)

Stubborn by Skyward_Arpeggio - a very good sickfic with lots of comfort

Stand Not at My Grave by Glau - good Twi angst and some really good relationship stuff

LU in Healthcare by Skye_the_Lofty_Nutcase - modern au healthcare setting and wildly cozy

People I AM biased towards:

Blood Drops on Roses (and associated works) by @hotcheetohatredwastaken - calling this a wild meets the chain fic doesn't do it justice. centers a lot on twi and wild's relationship

twilight talks by @rosehipandroots - a series of twi angst fics :D

Visions of a Calling by @wanderlustmagician - a modern au fic with a lot of fun canon nods

Authenticity by @arecaceae175 - a really genuine fic wherein wild is autistic

Here Now by @needfantasticstories - a really sweet fluff fic

ofc i have bookmarks on my prof to look through too but these are ones that i read/reread a lot <3

also im sorry if i missed anyone/anything XD i read a lot of fic lmao

[ontosgold]

hi! first off i wanted to say that i love your art so much its so so pretty and secondly i was wondering, since youre like the ceo of ryomina, if you had any good ryomina fanfic recommendations ? :>

THANK YOU :D !! and hehe thank u for giving me the chance to ramble abt the two ryomina fics that have been consuming my brain lately (that are both written by my lovely fellow ryomina ceos <3)

first off !! the twilight wants him back by @chatlote

it's a canon divergent fix-it fic that takes place from november onwards featuring sees ryoji :> I think my favourite thing abt this fic is the way lina characterises both ryoji and makoto, like I genuinely adore how she writes them in this fic. both of their inner worlds feel so rich and detailed and i adore how the pov switches give us a look into makoto and ryoji's different outlooks !! seeing makoto and ryoji's different perspectives on the same events is so interesting and it adds so much depth of their interactions. it's been such a joy so far to watch those two slowly get to know each other while also exploring how makoto's dealing with everything he's experienced up until then (the way she shows how makoto's been dealing with loss is so. augh <3) and I'm so excited to see where this fic is headed ^_^ every update has me kicking my feet in excitement hehe

and then there's persephone's curse by @sweet-sirin

this fic took me on such an emotional rollercoaster that it hasn't stopped rolling around in my brain since I read it. it takes place post canon and if u know abt persephone than u can probably take a guess as to where this fic is going. I don't wanna say too much bcs I think this fic is best experienced knowing as little abt it as possible but its just a beautiful exploration of ryoji and makoto's characters and just how stubborn they can be in their own ways, especially ryoji. there's so many scenes in this fic that are just stuck in my brain. it felt like every single scene and every piece of dialogue has some sort of underlying/second meaning and it was a ride unpacking everything as I was reading. everything feels so purposeful and meaningful its just so. augh. it emotionally destroyed me and I don't think I'll ever recover <3 it'll live in a special corner of my brain forever

Also !! I haven't really gone down the ryomina fic rabbit hole myself yet so if you or anyone reading has some fic recs of their own please send them my way !! 🙏🙏

[readingismyhobby24]

for the prompts, maybe smth with Twi, Sky, and Wars? :)

thanks!!!

- hero-of-the-wolf

Yayyyy!!! Thank you for the prompt!!! This mini fic is also sort of based on an actual moment in my life, so it was really fun to write! Also, this isn't the best quality of writing, but it's mainly just for fun, and I didn't really want to spend too much time writing it. @hero-of-the-wolf

If anyone wants to send in some mini fic prompts, I'd absolutely appreciate that! I'm trying to get myself to be more comfortable and confident with posting my fics, so I'm starting off with mini fics! So if you come up with something, just send it in my ask box!!! 🩵

Characters: Sky, Warriors, Twilight, and Malon

Summary: While staying at the ranch, Malon asks Twi, Sky, and Wars if they could help her with something in the barn. The boys agree, but get a little distracted from their job when they find an adorable surprise.

Word Count: 519

No warnings, it's really just fluff

The boys had fully been enjoying their stay at the ranch. It was fun, relaxing, and overall, just a wonderful time for all of them. Even with all the hard work they'd been doing. If anything, that was a huge part of the fun.

Which is why as soon as Malon had asked for some help with working in the barn, Wars, Twilight, and Sky immediately agreed to help her. That, and the fact that they all couldn't pass up a moment where they could get more stories of Time. They could never get enough of those.

The three boys and Malon headed into the barn, where Malon gave them all the instructions, along with showing them where all the tools they would need, were. The boys quickly got to work (only after a couple of stories from Malon) on their jobs.

Only a few minutes into their work, they were interrupted by a tiny mew coming from one of the stalls. Wars and Twilight both immediately gasped and ran over to the stall. When they got to it, they found six tiny kittens all huddled together, sleeping on the ground. Without any hesitation from the two, they both carefully went inside the stall, and then made their way over to the kittens.

Once noticing them, the kittens all woke up, and then began meowing and ran up to them. Wars and Twilight each scooped up three kittens and hugged them close.

“Oh my gosh! Why did no one tell us there were kittens in here!” Twilight exclaimed. “I could have been spending time with them this whole week!”

“I know! Just look at them! They are so tiny and cute!” Wars cooed at his new tiny friends.

Twilight looked over at Sky, just to see that the other was hesitantly making his way over.

“You good?” The rancher asked. “There's plenty of kittens if you want to hold some.”

“Yeah, um, I was just wondering how soon it is until dark first, that's all.” Sky answered as he finally made his way into the stall with the others.

“Is there a reason?” Wars asked while handing over one of the now sleeping kittens to his friend.

Sky accepted the kitten, along with another from Twilight before answering, “uh, well, no particular reason. I was just wanting to know.”

“Okay,” Twilight shrugged.

The three then settled down on the ground with their little friends all sleeping on them. Wars sighed contentedly. “I can't describe how happy this makes me feel. Like, just look at them!”

“I know!” Twilight agreed. “They're so precious! I could stay with them all day and night!”

“Oh, I don't know about night, but for sure during the day!” Sky mostly agreed.

The boys happily sat there for hours, and at some point, fell asleep. When Malon came back to see what progress they had made, she couldn't help but quietly laugh at the sight she came across. Not wanting to spoil their moment, she quietly left the barn, and headed inside to tell her husband about the adorable scene she had just come across.

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Immortal Artistry - Ch. 9 - Destroy It

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 9 Warnings: Sexual content; language; vampire blood violence

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic! Hope you enjoy this option 😄❤

Ch. 9 - Destroy It

2023

Balling your hand into a fist, you summon your nerve before reaching out for the pen. Tucking it close to your side, you push up from the conference room chair and head for the door. Your heart hammers in your throat as the walk down the hallway suddenly seems endless.

But as your fingers finally graze the cool metal handle of the rubbish chute, you work a hard swallow down your throat. Drawing a deep breath, you quickly pull the chute open and throw the pen in before you can rethink it. It clunks off the chute’s metal walls as it falls, and your eyes sink closed as a wave of relief washes over you.

It’s done. And now… now, it’s over.

Now perhaps Charles, George, Carlos – hell, even Max – will all leave you alone. They can continue to duke it out over eternity - to move their chess pieces around the board in hopes of achieving checkmate – and you can get back to your life. Such as it is, at least.

Perhaps you’ll be assigned a new boss soon. Perhaps you’ll have some new engrossing case that you can immerse yourself in. But perhaps, first, you’ll need a bottle of wine to help you forget the madness of the last four days – or even just this morning of having a vampire-chef’s  hamburger for breakfast.

The thought teases an incredulous smile to your face as you return to your office. Exhaling deeply to help calm your mind, you return to the open email you tried to write earlier and find the words flow easier now. You continue to work through the other items in your inbox, even taking the time to actually focus on reading an article and looking up a couple of references. Tension bleeds from your shoulders as your body relaxes against your desk chair with a strange sense of ease and freedom. 

Because now you are free. Without that pen – without that film – there’s nothing that either Charles or George could want from you. And while part of you may always wonder what else they’re up to in the world, the rest of you will be grateful not to be involved.

Hours of peaceful productivity pass until the sun settles low in the sky. Powering down your laptop, you reach for your bag and glance out the window at the last rays of twilight. A prickle of fear runs down your spine even though it shouldn’t… there’s nothing more that you have to fear from the undead, and you certainly can’t live the rest of your life scared to go out at night.

The elevator descends to the parking garage with a dull hum, opening to the elevator lobby that buzzes with the distant sound of the sodium-vapor lamps. You squint against the monochromatic color that bounces off the concrete surroundings as you push out into the humid night. A sparse collection of cars surrounds yours and your heels echo off the concrete surface – until gravel crunches and echoes from the distance, followed by a low scuffing thud. 

You freeze, eyes widening as every survival instinct jumps to high alert. Gripping your bag tight, you dart your gaze around, seeking out any sign of a shadow or movement. But nothing looks different… and you still appear to be completely alone. Your mouth goes dry as your heart pounds and an eerie feeling creeps down your spine.

Just because you can’t see anyone sure as hell doesn’t mean that you’re alone.

“H-hello…?” You call out, trying to keep the concerned quaver out of your voice. “George…? … Max?”

Only the ubiquitous buzzing of the light fixtures greets you. Maybe it was just some other employee on a lower level… or a stray cat or a mouse…? Or maybe you are just slowly losing your mind. Hell, if the security guard is watching you on the camera feed, they probably certainly think you’re crazy.

Wetting your top lip nervously as you continue to look around for anything suspicious, you decide to go for broke. “I don’t have it.” You say clearly. “I destroyed it, and now… now, no one has it.”

You have no idea if anyone is even in earshot or if you’re talking to the wind, but it marginally helps you relax. Even just saying it aloud – especially if someone does lurk unseen in the shadows – helps calm your unease. It reminds you of the finality of your decision and there’s nothing anyone can do to reverse it.

Exhaling shakily, you continue to your car and slide into the driver’s seat – quickly locking the door behind you. The engine revs to life and you take off into the night, heading straight for your apartment. Your unease fades the closer you get to home, and after killing the engine, you don’t think twice about exiting your car. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you reach for your keys as you approach your apartment building.

A strong hand wraps around your upper-arm, dragging you close against a tall, lean chest. You gasp as your eyes connect with George’s handsome profile in the streetlight, his face a mask of hard determination as he falls into step with you. Or at least, he tries to, but your feet forget how to move as he all but drags you along.

“Come along now, darling.” He purrs softly, tucking you closer against his side in parody of a couple’s embrace. “We have much to discuss.”

Your mind spins as you try to keep up, to possibly understand what he’s doing here. “We – there’s nothing more to discuss.” You shake your head, trying to keep the fearful stammer from your voice. “I-I destroyed it. Did you… did you already hear me say that?”

He gives a reprimanding shake of his head, squeezing his hand in forceful encouragement as you all but stumble up the stairs. “This is hardly the place.”

“And w-why not?” You grip your keys tighter as you steadily approach the building door. “It’s done – it’s over.”

“It’s hardly over.” George counters, nodding towards the door. “Open it.”

Fear courses down your spine as your heart races. “I don’t want to.”

George turns towards you with a cold expression mirrored in his glacial eyes. “Either you do it of your own free will, or I’ll make you. Your choice.”

Your mouth goes dry as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Fighting to steady your trembling fingers, you jam the key into the lock and the door falls open to reveal the pleasant hallway within. The old building isn’t grandiose by any means, but now the lack of a front desk and night guard strikes you as a poor decision. 

The strength of George’s grip tightens as he ushers you inside and down the small hallway, leading you straight to the narrow staircase. Your stomach sinks to your feet as he drags you up the stairs - knowing just exactly how to get to your apartment. “George,” you breathe, trying not to sound too desperate. “Please, let me go… I have nothing for you.” 

“Oh, we both know that’s not true.” He says as you both step out into the second floor hallway. 

You debate screaming, or clawing at his perfect features - something, anything to bring the neighbors running. Perhaps if they outnumber him, that would be too much exposure for him. Or perhaps he’d just kill you on the spot before making his escape. A tear stings your eye as you try to stall the movement of your feet, but the increased pressure on your arm tears a whimper from your throat. 

Up ahead, a door opens - and thank God for Paulette Masterson. You’d never had any strong feelings about your older neighbor across the hall, but now, you think you might love her just a little bit. Your eyes meet hers, and her face brightens with concerned alarm.

“Oh, my god!” She cries in a heavy French accent, glaring at George. “You - you unhand her this instant!” 

Your bottom lip trembles as you draw a shaking breath. “Paulette, please-” Your voice chokes up in a pained gasp as George’s grasp tightens in silent warning and he lunges forward. His other hand snatches Paulette’s jaw and he looms over her with his impressive height. 

“Look at me.” He commands in a velvety purr as Paulette stares back at him as if stunned. “That’s right.” His words sound in a steely whisper as he stares her down and her eyes turn glossy. “Now, return to your apartment and forget that you ever left.” 

“N-no!” The shaking word leaves your lips before you can stop it and a tear leaks down your cheek. Wordlessly, Paulette turns from George’s grasp and shuffles with zombie-like motions back to her own apartment. The front door closes behind her with a thud that resonates like the final nail in a coffin - your coffin - as George urges you down the hallway to stop in front of your door. 

You clutch the keys tight, refusing to give him the final satisfaction. 

His grip tightens again to the point of pain as his fingers curl and nails dig into the soft skin of your arm. “I don’t know why you insist on trying my patience tonight - and here I thought you were a good girl.” 

“Only to those who I deem worthy.” You hiss as frustrated anger starts to build in your chest. “And you, George? You play nice when really you’re… you’re just a wild thing pretending to be tame.” 

He regards you for a long moment before the corner of his mouth lifts, revealing a sharp pointed canine. “And what about you, darling?” He purrs, leaning in close and hitting you with a wave of cologne that has no right to stir sparks in your blood. “You’re just a wild thing trapped inside a cage… and if you don’t open this door,” his hand squeezes your arm and another whimper chokes off in your throat. “Then, I’ll take away your power to decide if you stay in that cage or not.” 

Another hot tear burns down your cheek as your arm throbs - no doubt severely bruised - and you swallow a sob as your vibrato falters and you fumble for your keys. The door opens after a few attempts, and the familiar interior of your apartment offers you little comfort as the door closes behind George. But at least he finally releases your arm, and you instantly bring your other hand to protectively cover the abused skin. 

George steps further into the shadows of your apartment, and his fitted, black turtleneck and trousers complement every angle of his lean frame as he keeps his gaze fixed solely on you. He moves through your apartment like he owns it, and you wonder just how many times he’s been here. Your stomach sours to think that he potentially watched over you while you slept. 

Slowly, you shake your head and draw another trembling sigh as you move away from him in the living room. “I already told you that I don’t have it - and it’s not a lie.” You try to moisten your mouth with a swallow. “I don’t have the treasure map that you want.” 

George’s gaze narrows with piqued interest. “A treasure map, hmm? Is that what Carlos told you it was?” 

Your frenzied mind tries to think back to this morning - and fuck, that was just this morning that Carlos stood in your kitchen. You try to recall who used the words ‘treasure map’ first, but the details elude you. “I-I don’t think that's what he exactly called it. He showed me some article, he said that Toto told you, and t-that you take Toto’s word as gospel… but it is a map, right?” You say as your mouth runs away with you. “It had a compass rose, it had roads, a-and… what looked like an ‘x marks the spot’.” 

George’s mouth curls to a wide, dazzling smile. “Oh, darling - you have just made my night.” He laughs in victory. “I knew your curiosity would get the better of you. I just knew that… even though you say you destroyed it, that you looked at it before you destroyed it.” 

A cold wave of fear shoots down your spine. “That doesn’t mean that I remember any details or anything…” Your words trail off as you take a step backwards, suddenly feeling way too trapped for your liking as Geroge advances. “I-it was so small… on microfilm or something.” 

“Oh, now don’t play modest,” George coaxes as he moves on silent steps and you continue back away from him. “You said that there was a compass rose, and roads, and even an ‘x marks the spot’. Sounds like you remember it all just fine.” His lips curl to another blood curdling smile that gives his handsome appearance a dark menace. “Now, you just need to tell me a couple of names and I’ll be on my way.” 

Your heart leaps at the prospect. “But I don’t… the writing was too small to make out any names. I can’t - couldn’t read them.” 

“Tsk-tsk,” he clucks his tongue, shaking his head with disappointment even as he moves towards you and you run out of room to run away. “I know you can do better than that.” 

Your back connects with the solid surface of your apartment wall, and you try to summon an image of the tiny map in your mind’s eye. The black lines had been drawn in mostly straight lines, intersecting in various places, and the red x in the corner… but the words are jumbles of squiggles and letters that you can’t conjure. Trying to keep your breathing steady, you offer a dejected shake of your head. “I don’t… I just - I couldn’t make out the words! The writing was just too small, I swear!” 

George stares back at you for a heart-pounding minute as he takes the final step, staring down at you as anxious fear grips you. He hums low in his throat. “Well, if you say so,” he whispers softly with deadly calm and firm resolve. “Then, there’s just one option left.” His chilly fingers find your jaw, tilting it up - just as you’d seen him do to Paulette in the hall - and you instantly slam your eyes shut.

“N-no! George, please.” You plead, trying futility to break free of his hold. “I’m telling the truth - I didn’t see any names. I won’t be able to tell anyone else!” 

“Not that I doubt your sincerity, but this situation has stood for too long to leave it to chance.” His voice holds a chilling, ominous note. “You’re merely just another mortal caught in the struggle of eternity - never able to appreciate the true beauty of the world around you until you just open your eyes… so open your eyes.” 

You bite your lip, steadfastly refusing. His fingers on your jaw tighten with bruising pressure as his blunt nails dig into your skin. A whimper chokes in your throat as you struggle to breathe through the pain, and you just squeeze your eyelids tighter together. 

“Well, if looking at me isn’t enough,” George growls. “Then, let’s change the scenery, shall we?” His strong hand abandons your jaw to land on your shoulder, effortlessly peeling you away from the wall and dragging you forward. The sound of shattering glass makes your eyes fly open, and your mouth falls open to see your living room chair half-protruding from the broken remains of your balcony fire-escape window. 

Your heart rate ratchets higher as he pushes you towards the sea of broken glass. “You can’t - you… you’re not going to throw me out of the window, are you?!” 

“Don’t be so silly.” He coos breezily as if he’s not propelling you towards certain death. “Once I have what I need, there won’t be much of your mind left anyway, so it won’t be a problem for it to end up scrambled on the pavement.” 

A terrified gasp escapes your throat as you claw at him, trying to fight back, trying to escape. But his supernatural strength prevails and the humid night breeze hits your face. “C-can’t you just…” your words trail off in a panicked hiccup. “I-I thought you would use your teeth.” 

He chuckles low and disconcerting as he pushes you out onto the balcony, holding you tight. “Come now, darling - that’s mildly offensive. Not to mention racist. Drained bodies leave too many questions. But an accidental fall from a balcony? Now, that’s not too hard to believe.” 

Another tear burns down your cheek as you feebly struggle. “P-please George - I didn’t… I don’t -” 

“Oh, George,” another voice slices through your terrified mind. A heart-achingly familiar voice with lilting Monegasque syllables. “You disappoint me, mate.” 

A relieved sob punches from your chest as Charles’ words echo above the blood pounding in your ears.

Nothing in George’s immobilizing hold eases as he pivots around to turn you back towards the darkened interior of your apartment. Charles stands like a dark avenging angel, eyes narrowed with resolve as he oozes effortless confident control. Another sob rises in your chest at the sight of him, and you want nothing more than to dissolve in the safety of his arms. 

Charles’ glittering green eyes find yours. “It’s alright, cara mia.” His gaze turns to George, hardening with displeasure. “Let her go, mate. Haven’t you distressed her enough for one lifetime?” 

A chuckle rumbles in George’s chest. “That was rather the point, you see. She positively reeks of you… it’s a wonder that you didn’t fuck her when you drank from her.” He nuzzles along your neck and you try to turn away in disgust. “She smells absolutely divine.” 

Charles shakes his head in disapproval. “Then why upset her when you know that it would attract my attention?”

A sharp, harsh laugh punches from George’s chest this time. “Isn’t it obvious, mate? I want you to be here. To bear witness.” He jerks you tighter in his grip as he takes a step back towards the edge. “To see the high price of this game that you insist we keep playing even 80 years later.” 

“Killing her isn’t going to change anything.” Charles simply says, taking a measured step forward. "She destroyed the map - we’re even. No one has the advantage.” 

“Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot? To think that you haven’t got a backup copy? Or to think that maybe when she says she couldn’t read the writing that you could and the knowledge still exists in the world?” He gives a slow, resolved shake of his head. “No, Charles. Nothing good can come from that map if it’s not restoring the wrongs that have been allowed to stand for the last 80 years. And you would know that if - just once - you could understand how wrong you’ve been since Austria.” 

Charles says nothing as he stares back at George in tense silence. Your overwrought nerves threaten to give out as you grow still in George’s strong hold and more tears leak from your eyes. 

At length, Charles wets his top lip and tilts his head. “Wrong, you say…” He trails off with a soft hum. “I suppose you had the luxury of missing out on the war’s early years. The first retreat, the Nazi’s ravaging the countryside, the mass conquering…” He shoves a casual hand in his pocket as his tone sharpens with a steely edge. “You don’t get to stand there and lecture me on what’s right and what’s wrong - and if you can’t understand that, then we’re done here, mate.” 

George huffs indignantly. “Glad we agree.” He takes another step back. “Then, I’ll just toss her over the edge, shall -” His words cut off in an undignified, startled scream as his balance falters. George’s suffocating hold loosens in his shock, and you trip over your own feet in a desperate escape attempt. The sounds of a sharp fight resonate behind you, but you’re too blinded by relief and fleeing instinct to turn around. 

Sobs shake your frame as you stumble back into your apartment - and the comforting embrace of Charles’ arms catches you. You cling to him, crumbling as the last of your strength abandons you.

Charles rocks you gently as he sinks to the floor, encouraging you to burrow his chest. “There, there, cara mia,” he coos gently, resting his cheek atop of your head. “It’s over now. He won’t hurt you ever again.” 

You dissolve against him, drowning in the strength of his arms around you. “I-I didn’t think… I thought destroying the pen would end it, that it-”

Charles shushes you quietly. “You did end it, cara mia. It’s over… and for what it’s worth, you did the right thing.” His lips brush a tender kiss to your brow. “No one needed the knowledge that map possessed.” 

Glass crunches under strong footsteps behind you, and Charles shifts against you to look up. A hum of approval rumbles his chest before he speaks softly. “Thank you, Max.” 

Another body draws up behind you, and everything about the strong embrace of Max’s arms, bracketing you between him and Charles feels so right. You cling to both of them, grateful to be alive and overwhelmed. “W-what about George…?” You choke out through gasping breaths. 

“Don’t worry about him.” Max’s words hold a firm edge despite his gentle tone. “He won’t ever hurt you again.” 

A rush of terrified memory overtakes you, and you cling closer to Charles and Max, letting them hold you in the dark interior of your apartment. Something warm and safe blooms in your chest as they surround you, and Charles presses another kiss to your brow. “In fact,” he coos softly. “No one will ever hurt you again.” 

2026

Excitement buzzes in your veins. After weeks of counting down, today has finally come. 

“If eternity is your choice, cara mia - then it’s something worth celebrating.” Charles clarified. 

Max chuckled softly as he encouraged you. “Sure. Think of it like… like your undead birthday.” 

Charles’ eyes shone with reassuring adoration. “That day will be the start of the rest of your life.” He reached out for your hand and a shiver of anticipation rippled across your skin. “A life with us, for as long as you want.” 

The force of your smile threatened to split your face as you glanced between him and Max. “So, then… that’s really it? That’s all it takes?” 

Max shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “It’s not a complicated process.”

The implications of the words stunned you, their offer overwhelming you. Immortality at your fingertips with Charles and Max by your side? Had there been anything else that you’d ever wanted more over the course of your life? 

Slowly, you nodded and squeezed Charles’ hand. “Then, yes - I choose eternity. With you.” You turned your gaze towards Max, holding out a hand and taking his chilly fingers between yours. "And you.” 

Charles’ face lit with a bright, satisfied smile. “Then, you shall have us, cara mia. And we shall have you.” He dipped his head to place a lingering, tantalizing kiss on the back of your hand. “Let’s find a date, and we’ll - oh! I should have the ballroom prepared.” 

Your brow furrowed. “Ballroom? Seriously…? Your home has a ballroom?” 

Mischief twinkled in Charles’ gaze. “This house is certainly old enough, so, yes - it does have a ballroom. Come, I’ll show you.” With your hand still in his, he stood and you followed, tugging Max along with you. 

The Dutchman bit back an annoyed sigh - something he still hadn’t managed to shake even as an immortal. “Or maybe you shouldn’t show it to her, Charles,” he said even as he squeezed your fingers. “Why spoil the surprise?” 

“Because - despite everything she’s seen - I don’t think she believes me, and I won’t have her questioning my sincerity for such an important decision.” Charles answered as they walked down a side hallway that you’d always considered unremarkable. Though, as Charles dropped your hand to throw open the innocuous double-wide doors, you would have to rethink that assessment.

Two magnificent chandeliers dripping in crystals and coated in dust dominated the elegant room. A piano stood lone sentry with only a scattering of plush chairs along the room’s periphery. The long, heavy curtains framing the windows showed their age despite the drawn shades, and the rich wood floor was desperately in need of some polish. But still… you’d never seen such a sight. At least, not outside of a fairy tale. And let alone in someone’s home. 

You glanced around the room, still unable to believe it. “This is just… incredible. How did I fucking not know that this was here?” You took a step into the room, dropping Max’s hand and studying your footprints on the dusty floor. 

Charles smiled with obvious pleasure. “Hmm, maybe Max was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have showed you yet…” he glanced over at Max with fond affection. “I think we might have created a monster.” 

“None of this ‘we’ stuff,” Max countered gently. “This is all your doing, mate.” He nodded over at you as you took a few gliding steps across the floor. 

Dust kicked up in your wake, tickling your nose and you bit back a sneeze. Coming to a stop, you raised a hand to brush your nose as you turned back towards Charles. His phone had materialized in his hand and his fingers scrolled elegantly over the touchscreen. He glanced up with a curious smile. “Shall we say the 19th? Our next sale should close by the 17th, and then, we’ll have even more to celebrate.” 

Oh, God, yes. That lost Vermeer would fetch another 400 million for Charles’ bank account, and… fuck, you could pinch yourself. 

Spending eternity with those two handsome men and not having to worry about money or food or disease ever again…? It sounded like an absolute dream come true.

And it still does. Even as you answer the knock on your apartment front door, surprised to find a courier bearing gifts. A garment bag and several boxes end up on your sofa despite your confusion as the courier presents you a blood red envelope before leaving. Closing the door in his wake, you flip it over and your heart flutters at the wax seal bearing a familiar crest. At first, you thought the lion and spider motifs were not only creepy but far too cliche for a clan of vampires, but now, you look forward to calling that crest your own. Perhaps they’ll even consider updating it for you - once you decide what animal you want to be. Or do they decide that? 

Your cheeks flush as your mind spins, and goodness… you’re getting way too far ahead of yourself. Reaching for a kitchen knife, you slice under the seal to reveal the thick cream cardstock within. 

A beautiful occasion calls for only the best - and the best deserves every opportunity to feel the most beautiful. Please choose what you will and we hope the gifts satisfy. 

C M 

A wide grin splits your face as you run your fingers over their simply signed initials, each in their own handwriting. Sighing incredulously, you turn back towards the packages and the contents take your breath away. Five designer gowns, all in your size and colors to complement your skin tone. Each fits like a glove, accenting your best features as you twirl to study your reflection in your bedroom mirror. Silk whispers around your ankles and against your legs - and god, any of them would be perfect for dancing. And, of course, the neckline of each gown leaves your neck prominently on display for the evening’s main event. 

A thin ripple of fear works down your spine as the gravity of it hits you - and shit… officially speaking, you’re going to die tonight. The realization should probably frighten you, should engage your every last survival instinct… but you know it’s not the end. Charles and Max are living - but not quite - proof of what awaits you on the other side, and you can’t wait to join them. 

After opening a box to reveal several pairs of gorgeous heels to match the selection of gowns, only one small, black velvet box remains. Popping the lid open, your mouth falls agape at the sight of a ring adorned with a large, luscious ruby surrounded by an array of diamonds. You didn’t know precious stones could come in such a large size - and fuck, would your fingers even be able to hold the weight? 

Still stunned, you pry the platinum band from the velvet cushion and study the refracting light in the gem’s facets. Your heart flutters as you slide it onto your right ring finger, dismayed to find it won’t slide past your knuckle. Swallowing your disappointment, you work the band a little harder, but it’s just too snug. Is it possible that they got the size wrong? But no… if Charles and Max have the exact measurements of your dress and shoe size, then they know your ring size. 

Wetting your top lip, your breath catches as you try the ring on your left hand finger to find a perfect fit. Is this the start of more to come? A proposal? Or merely just the first taste of everything you want with Charles and Max? 

With only hours to go, you slide the ring off and set it on your dresser before indulging in a luxurious bubble bath. You take the time you need for your hair and makeup, hoping it looks good enough for such an occasion. The silk of your chosen dress slides back on your body with delicate whispers, the heels add such poise, and the elegant ruby ring completes your classy, gorgeous ensemble. 

Low simmering arousal heats your blood as you hope that Charles and Max won’t be able to keep their hands off of you. Even now, the phantom memories of Max’s strong hands as he holds you against his broad chest and Charles’ nimble fingers as his lips tease your neck race a blot of desire down your spine. God, what will it be to learn their touch as an immortal? 

As the clock strikes 2200 hrs, a black sedan pulls up in front of your building and you descend the stairs. The driver meets you on the sidewalk with one last gift - a velvet cape in a deep scarlet color for your bare shoulders on a cool night. The heavy decadent fabric settles against your skin, and you swear you can just breathe in the intoxicating scent of Charles’ cologne. 

The thrill of anticipation hums along your skin as the car cuts through the night, taking you ever closer to the house that you’ve grown to love. To the house that will soon become your home. It makes your smile widen as the car glides to a stop and the driver assists you out of the car. Crossing up the steps to the front door, Charles and Max both stand in the foyer, dressed in impeccable tuxedos cut in tailored lines that should be illegal. 

“You look absolutely beautiful, cara mia.” Charles purrs, leaning in to buss your cheek. “I am pleased to see that our gifts were well received.” 

“God, it was almost too much.” You reply, sliding out of your cape as Max stands behind you, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your neck. “But really, I cannot thank you both enough. It’s just… everything is just gorgeous and perfect.” 

Max hums in obvious approval as he nuzzles your skin. “And you look it.” 

Your skin warms under Max’s touch as your gaze rakes down Charles’ lithe form. The dark lines of his tux hug his body with precision tailoring, and you debate just pouncing on him right now - and dragging Max with you, of course. But Max steps away to hang your cape in the foyer closet and Charles moves further into the house, holding out a hand in invitation. His gaze finds yours, glittering with the glow of soft light. “Are you hungry, cara mia?” He asks gently. “Or did you already eat? One last meal, so to speak…” 

You shake your head as Max falls into step beside you. “I already ate… especially since we’re dancing and celebrating, I needed the energy.” 

Charles’ mouth curls with an amused smile. “I wish I could tell you that you won’t have that problem after your transformation,” he says breezily as you approach the ballroom doors. “But, well… without sustenance, even we go weak.” 

“Sustenance…” you repeat softly as your heels echo off the marble. “You mean blood.” 

“Yes,” Max answers bluntly. “That can be a bit of a mental adjustment afterwards, though, depending on the strength of your mortal construct.” 

You arch a quizzical brow. “My mortal construct…?” 

“Yes,” Charles clarifies as he and Max push open the ballroom doors. “Everything that gives you your current sense of right and wrong, of forgivable and unforgivable - even your sense of time.” 

Charles’ words fade in your ears as you stare around the transformed room. Light gleams from the spotless crystal chandeliers, reflecting off the floor’s brilliantly polished surface. The curtains have been redone in a tasteful brocade that harkens back to an age long past. Hell, even you feel as though you should be dressed in a Regency style gown with a dance card looped around your wrist. But the grand ballroom hosts just the three of you, and another delicious shiver races across your skin. 

You shake your head, unable to hold back your appreciative smile. “This is so gorgeous - it’s a shame that you don’t use this room more often.” 

An almost shy edge comes to Charles’ smile. “I’m afraid we don’t really entertain… difficult to do without gaining attention.” 

“And too much attention draws unwanted questions.” Max confirms as he steps further into the room. “And you’ll learn that soon, too… so much for you to learn. And then,” he glances back at Charles from under his neatly combed hair, ice blue eyes mesmerizing in the glittering light. “She will be the young one. Not me.” 

Charles’ smile curls with amused fondness. “That’s not my nickname for you, and you know it.” He looks at you, shaking his head. “I think he’s just bitter that despite being born three weeks before me, he was transformed after me, so that officially makes him younger than me.” 

You chuckle softly. “Well, compared to when I was born - you both outrank me, so if calling me younger helps, then that doesn’t bother me.” 

Overhead, from unseen speakers, a low bass note sounds and a haunting voice follows with familiar words. 

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream 

Your breath catches and your heart sings as your favorite song by Lana Del Rey fills the ballroom. Glancing between Charles and Max, a wide smile splits your face. “You remembered… which one of you was it?” 

Max moves on silent footsteps, coming to a stop in front of you. “Charles has all the musical knowledge and taste in this house. Though, maybe that will change once you join us…” He holds out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to put your hand in his. 

Admittedly, you don’t have much any practice with the waltz, but following Max’s lead, you fall into the elegant 1-2-3 rhythm. His tux does nothing to diminish the broad strength of his shoulder as your hand comes up to rest, and your dress flows in elegant waves as he twirls you around. 

And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem 

Extending his arm, you spin out and find yourself suddenly in Charles’ arms. He gracefully falls into the rhythm, and your hand slides into his as he takes your waist to sweep you around the dance floor. His cologne clouds your senses as he holds you close before turning you out for another elegant spin. Max’s cool hand finds yours as you extend, and as you spin back into Charles’ embrace, Max follows you. Your mind spins as you tuck close against Charles’ chest with the strong press of Max against your back as the hypnotic rhythm fills your ears and keeps your feet moving with theirs. 

But if I know you, I know what you’ll doYou’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream 

Your heart races as liquid heat burns between your legs. These two men are everything you want, and you don’t care if they can smell how desire ignites your blood, how arousal makes you drip with want. If this is to be your last night as a human - if this is to serve as some sort of wedding night and birthday in one - then you have no reason to hold anything back. Especially as you continue to move intertwined with them in a synchronous flow and the desire for them to claim you - to make you eternally theirs - burns fiercely. 

The music draws to a soft, haunting close as their steps slow. Your breathing comes in trembling gasps as you hover on the edge of anticipation and relief, still held in the cocoon of their bodies. Evey nerve thrums with need, an aching pulse that only Charles and Max can satisfy. Words crawl up your throat to beg them to fuck you here, one last time before they drain you of life. 

But Charles lowers his head, skimming his lips along your racing pulse and brushing his cool nose against your flushed skin. A gasping moan passes your lips as Max bends down to the other side of your neck, dragging the sharp points of his elongated canines against your skin with delicious promise. A strong cool hand finds your hips, pushing you back against Max’s body as Charles presses ever closer. 

Charles skims his lips along your jaw, hovering just above your lips with the promise of a lifetime. “One last chance, cara mia,” he whispers with a velvet rumble. “Do you take us?” 

You sigh heavily as everything within you burns. “I do,” you moan, torn between tilting your head further against Max or further into Charles. “I take you both, yes.” 

Max strikes first, his sharp teeth slicing through your skin with familiar ease. Another moan pitches in your throat, choking off as Charles’ teeth find your other main artery, hot blood dribbling down your neck as his lips seal against your sin. When they both hollow their cheeks for a long draught, your mind abandons your body as the pleasure-pain sensations overwhelm you. You cling to them, desperate to never let go, to have them always. 

Blackness eats the corners of your sanity and your vision turns dizzy. Your breath comes in shallow gasps as your life drains away, stolen by their lips. Your fingers lose their strength as you fall slack in their embrace, and this… 

Your heart slows to its final rest. 

With a wet suck, Max pulls his teeth free and Charles gathers you in his arms. Dropping to a knee, he lays your lifeless body on the smooth, polished wood. The last drops of your blood form a puddle on the floor as Charles stands back to his full height. A trail of your blood stains his skin, soaking into the collar of his dress shirt as he stares down at you. 

At least until Max steps over your dead body and hooks a strong arm around Charles’ waist. Charles turns his mercurial eyes to Max’s, smiling with relieved ease as he melts into Max’s embrace. Moving to a tune that only Max knows, he gently guides Charles in slow, easy steps. Your blood sings in both of their veins with immense satisfaction. “You know, I ought to be really annoyed with you.” Max says softly through his own blood-stained lips. 

Charles arches an indignant brow. “What? How could you possibly?” He licks the corner of his mouth still stained crimson. “I told you that we would spend our anniversary together, and here we are.” 

“For starters, you told her that we weren’t exclusive.” 

Charles chuckles softly. “That was a long time ago, mate. And the more accurate word is eternal.” 

“And then,” Max continues, undeterred as he leads Charles around the room. “You invited her to spend our anniversary with us…” 

“You knew it had to happen.” Charles counters softly. “It always does every time someone gets close and learns more than they should…” 

Max hums gently, leaning in to brush his blood soaked lips to Charles’ cheek. “For a while, I really thought you would keep her… she lasted longer than most of the others.” 

“But it wouldn’t last - she wouldn’t last. Any mortal who chooses immortality…” 

“I did.” Max reminds him. 

“No. You chose not to die… that’s different.” 

The corner of Max’s mouth lifts with vague amusement as he leans in to meet Charles in a deep, languorous, blood-soaked kiss. One borne from decades of familiarity and devotion and adoration. One that defies words and stirs every part of their primal, undead, immortal existence. 

A low, delicious hum pitches in Charles’ throat as he pulls back, regarding Max with near pitch black eyes. “Happy 80th anniversary, mon amour.” 

Max leans forward for one last kiss - at least here before they retire to their bedroom. Keeping his arm around Charles’ waist, he turns them both towards the ballroom doors and casts one last glance down at your still body. “You had the floor waxed and sealed appropriately, yes?” 

“Of course,” Charles confirms as he, too, pays you one last parting glance. “And tomorrow, we’ll see to her interment in the crypt. Along with adding her ring to the collection.” 

Max reaches for the lightswitch on the wall and the room falls dark as the double doors close behind them. 

Fin 

Series Main List

Tag List: @fictional-l0v3r @hollie911

[luztoyeweek]

I would love a canon era fic rec list too… since you offered :))

Of course!! I'm only doing five fics again, since that's what I recced for alternate universe luztoye, and went with fics I don't see recced often <3.

As with the last post, if anyone has any recs that I lacked to include they want to add onto this post/add to the ask box, please do feel welcome :).

All recs under the cut!

- The Potential in Paperwork by Muccamukk

"Stare at that page long enough, it'll start looking back at you."

rated g | 802 words | very very short and very sweet, with lovely characterization and writing <3

- But I Linger On, Dear by ThrillingDetectiveTales

Memories of Bastogne stick around even after George is home from the frontlines. Luckily, Joe does too.

rated g | 1.2k | another short and sweet one, with very good depictions of ptsd nightmares and wonderful characterization and dialogue. i think this one has been recced before, but is lovely and sweet enough to get a shout-out

- from there to right here by vannral

"Remember that time in Columbus?” "...which time?” "The one where you, me and Gordon left the camp to have a little fun and got back like 4:30 in the morning.” " ’Fun’, huh?” Joe deadpans, but the corner of his mouth twitches into a shark-like grin." (In which George and Joe reminisce about Toccoa times and their relationship.)

rated t | 1.4k | based on a singular paragraph in the band of brothers book about luz and toye, and adds lovely depth to both the characterizations and personalization of luz and toye and their relationship, as well

- The Soft of Snow by angelboygabriel

“Could be better, but it works.” he admits and exhales a puff of misty air. Luz lets a smile cross his face, and it feels like it cracks the perpetual layer of phantom ice on his skin he can't seem to shake the feeling of.

rated t | 751 words | one of the Original luztoye in bastogne fics, and very sweet. lots of physical touch as a love language, with a bit of nixon outsider pov at the end :)

- seeking grace in the twilight hours by starblessed

Joe’s nightmares tend to be predictable. George’s scatter, running all over the place, tossing in things that couldn’t possibly have happened in real life; there are alligators in Bastogne, maybe, or a hatchet-wielding mime chasing him through Hitler’s Eagles Nest. Even in his dreams, George somehow turns the worst memories into a joke. (The darkest memories, the ones he can’t think of without convulsing from the inside-out, hide away at the very back of his mind, forcibly suppressed during the daytime. It’s the only way he keeps himself smiling, keeps himself sane. They don’t rear their heads often, but when they do, George is out of it for days.) Joe doesn’t throw in anything. He remembers things the way they happened, and maybe that’s worse. (Joe has a nightmare, and George is there to help. )

rated t | 1.3k | two nightmare fics in one rec, because this one is also very very sweet. a lot of good characterization with luz, wonderful expansion into post-war luztoye and overall lovely <3

[celestialvoyeur]

DOES THIS FIC EXIST? IF NOT, ANYONE WANT TO WRITE IT? 😂

Ok, so entirely randomly, I woke up this morning with the plot of a hurt/comfort/whump fic in my head. As in, I was literally already thinking about it when I realised I was conscious again. I must have been dreaming about it, but once I woke all the way up I thought “yeah, I’d read that fic” so I wondered if I could dump the idea out into the ether here in case anyone wants to actually write it lol. Or in case anyone recognises it as the plot of a fic that’s already been written and I can go read that one lol. Here it is:

So, remember the Enterprise episode Twilight, when Archer has amnesia and T’pol becomes his carer? Sort of that idea but instead it’s Kirk who is injured and becomes so physically impaired that the really requires round the clock care. Spock and McCoy both leave the Enterprise to support him, Spock taking on the role of his daily care and McCoy throwing himself hell for leather into work at Starfleet medical researching a possibly treatment or cure.

As the weeks/months wear on Kirk struggles not only with his own helpless and everything he’s lost, but also the guilt and incomprehension of having derailed his two best friend’s careers. Lots of opportunity for angst and depression at the height of this. However, at some point it becomes clear to Jim that it’s not some misplaced sense of duty that’s keeping Spock by his side, or driving McCoy to run himself into the ground working round the clock, it’s their devotion to him. (Could be Spirk or McSpirk depending on whether Bones devotion and love is written as platonic).

Eventual happy ending, McCoy comes up with something that will, if not fully cure Jim, at least allow him to lead a more fulfilling life and a joy his new found love(s).

Does this fic already exist? If so please share the link! If not, someone please write it, I really want to read this! 😂🖖

[garcargofarfar]

Wavering Between

A Garroth x Reader x Laurance Fic

Prologue

Follow up on EIN REWRITE

YOU CAN ALSO READ THE STORY ON WATTPAD @/iiYoshi

A/N : I have no intent in finishing the first two books before posting this one. :D

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"Like I want to be with you." Ein barked back.

"You better not mess this school up as well." I sighed. This was sure going to be a fun year of junior year. "I'm not going to stop you again this time."

"Spare me your overblown ego." Ein rolled his eyes at me, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. "You don't seriously think you can stop me?"

"I did once, and I'll do it again."

Before he could argue back and break out into a fight, the principal finally walked into the office, and we both shut up.

"Ah, so sorry for making you wait." She says, "I'm assuming you're Ein and Erielle Lovette?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wonderful! Let me start off by saying how happy I am to have you both here at Phoenix Drop." She beams.

I nod.

Ein forces a smile, scoffing silently.

"I'm Principal Layla, good friends with Principal Dickson from TH. Though, I'm sure you know that already." She simply laughs, and Ein glares when I nudge his rib to stop him from falling asleep.

"I'm really sorry for all the trouble, Principal Layla." Ein suddenly starts in a polite voice. "My sister and I never meant to cause trouble at Twilight High, but as her big brother, I just have to look out for her."

This time, I scoff.

"What in Irene's name are you on about?" I hiss.

"You know. Seeing as you're human and all. I feel it's my responsibility to take care of you and drop my position as Alpha in TH."

"You're joking." I almost laugh. "You two-faced little-"

"Alright, alright! Enough of this." Principal Layla cuts us off. "I don't care what happened back in TH. It's all in the past now. I only ask of you two to be well-behaved here at Phoenix Drop."

"Yes, Principal Layla." We say in sync.

"The school day is almost over today. You two can get settled in your dorms and check out the clubs they're holding for Freshmen. Feel free to come to me if you need help." We both glare at each other once more before she dismisses us.

"I don't want anything to do with you and your manipulative shenanigans, got that?" I ask, taking a look at my schedule.

"Like anyone wants anything to do with you." He hisses in return.

"Arya would."

"Stop. Bringing. Her. Into. This." He warns.

"You had a chance with her, Ein. You just completely blew it yourself." And with that, I walk off to my homeroom. "Have a good life without me."

-----

I pass by Room 208, my homeroom for the year. TH didn't have homerooms, so I was still getting the hang of things.

Everything was so different here. The students in the halls were human. The students in the halls were also werewolves.

There's this weird balance and equality that I never got to experience in either schools for freshman nor sophomore year.

I don't think I've ever felt this nice just existing in a swarm of people before without any killing eyes or vicious brother to bug me.

"Hey." I turn to see a black haired boy with sky-blue eyes staring at me. "What are you still doing here in the classrooms?"

"Oh I'm sorry." I apologize. "Am I not allowed to be here?"

"No. It's just that everyone's gathered at the football field to sign up for clubs and all that stuff." He signals to the window, which has a view of the whole situation going on beneath.

"I'm new here. Just checking out my surroundings." I shrug.

"The name's Gene. Nice to meet you." He lifts out a hand.

"Erielle." I shake his. "You're a student here too?"

"Oh, no. I graduated last year." He says. "But my little brother still goes here, and he left his homework at home. I had to bring it over for him."

"Ah. I see." I laugh at his remark.

"You should run along, Erielle." He tells me. "They're already starting to sign up for clubs."

He looks out the window as I follow his gaze.

"Maybe I will." I mutter, mostly to myself. "You seem like a cool person, Gene. Was lovely meeting you."

"Was nice meeting you as well." He replies with a smirk. "I'll introduce you to my squad one day. You'd fit right in with the Shadow Knights."

"Looking forward to it." I smile. "I should get going. Have a good one!"

"Same to you."

-----

As I turn the corner, I am finally struck with the realization that I'm lost.

Oh my Irene, why am I so dumb? I should've asked Gene for help.

The halls are mostly empty by now, and I have no idea where I'm going. I'm still walking along the halls as I finally spot sight of a tall blonde in the distance.

"Hey!" I yell, watching the blonde to turn to look at me with azure eyes.

"May I help you?"

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

[imakemywings]

For the femslash requests: Mithrellas x Nimrodel with one carrying the other in her arms

Hi anon!! I actually had to do some research to remind myself who these characters are exactly but then I got a bit carried away so...here's all this.

Here's also a fun version of the song of Nimrodel, which Legolas sings for the Fellowship in FotR!

Summary: Mithrellas would follow Nimrodel anywhere--even across the Sundering Seas--but fate has other things in store.

Length: 4.8k

This fills the "F/F," "history," and "ace/aro" squares on Fellowship of the Fics' Pride Month bingo.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Where She Wanders None Can Tell

Long ago had Mithrellas made her choice. When Nimrodel had come among them speaking words that sparked like fire and pushed like river currents, Mithrellas reoriented towards her, and with her went her cousin Almmir and her brother Enelion, and for many years they followed Nimrodel. Now Almmir lay beneath one of the elms from which she took her name, and Enelion was departed to live among the sedentary, settled Elves of Lothlorien, but not before a terrible parting quarrel with Mithrellas.

(Traitor, Mithrellas had accused in her fey temper, You abandon everything we have stood for!)

Yet the hour was come when proud Nimrodel’s resistance to King Amroth’s proposal at last expired; Mithrellas had stood by the eaves of Fangorn Forest while the pair plighted their troth and Nimrodel agreed to follow him west, and over the Sundering Seas.

And Mithrellas was to go with her.  

Once, Nimrodel, full-throated and straight-backed, had decried the very notion of village-building, and chastised with fire and brimstone these newcome Elves from the west who ate up land and stirred up trouble. She disdained the settlement of Lothlorien and refused to speak other Elvish tongues. Now, she had confessed lowly to Mithrellas, tucked against the bole of a tree in the twilight, it seemed all other paths had been closed to them. A balrog sundered Moria to pieces, and there were whispers of a shadow growing in the Greenwood, and Fangorn whence they fled from Lorien had closed itself to them. Moreover, Amroth whom she loved meant to leave these lands for good.

Who will rule in Lorien after him? Nimrodel asked. For doubtless there would be a new lord, and she did not believe it would be anyone as trustworthy.

Mithrellas meant to tell her to fight. She meant to echo some of Nimrodel’s own stirring words and infectious passions. But Mithrellas had no gift of tongue, and before Nimrodel in particular she faltered, and so she said nothing, and Nimrodel kept her own counsel.

Still Mithrellas was silent as to her thoughts while they assembled themselves for the journey westward. Amroth and Nimrodel meant to leave immediately with Amroth’s small company of staff and what of the remnants of Nimrodel’s band that would follow her so far.

On the morning of their final preparations, Mithrellas combed out Nimrodel’s glossy black hair, and tied it up in a braid that hung to her ankles. Accustomed to traveling afoot, they had been prepared to leave much behind to hasten the journey west, but Amroth had supplied mounts, and Nimrodel’s followers found them more than adequate to carry everything. They were, after all, nomads.

“You keep quiet counsel,” Nimrodel observed as Mithrellas carefully arranged a few sacks of food onto one of the saddles. The sunlight gleamed off her hair and Mithrellas wondered if they ought to produce the summer hoods, to keep them from taking too much sun on such a long, exposed ride.

“Nothing have I to add,” Mithrellas replied, tightening a strap.

“Nothing? Or disapproval?” Nimrodel speculated. Mithrellas’ hands slowed, then stopped.

“I go whence my lady goes,” she said at last, staring at the horse’s flank. “There is naught in it for me to approve or disapprove.”

“Mithrellas has no opinion on this journey?”

“Mithrellas has chores to be done,” answered she. Now she looked at Nimrodel. “And what counsel she has, she has given.”

“As I have spoken, none are obliged to make this journey with me,” Nimrodel said. “Doubtless Enelion would welcome you into his home, if your preference was to remain.”

“It is not,” said Mithrellas. “Not in absence of my lady.”

Long Nimrodel regarded her, the brightness of the sun only just reaching the edges of her loam-dark eyes. At last she said: “Nothing have I done to warrant such loyalty, yet all the same, I will be glad with your presence. These are troubled times, and yours is a soothing companionship.” For a moment, Mithrellas thought that Nimrodel meant to touch her, and she held her breath, but at length the lady only nodded and departed to preparations of her own.

***

The sun shone invitingly on their traveling band through all the start of their journey, so that even Mithrellas felt inclined to tentative optimism. Nimrodel rode at the head with Amroth, and Mithrellas in the back with another to ensure none fell behind. Nimrodel sat her saddle with a back as straight as an oak, but Mithrellas caught the little twitches of her head each time she knew Nimrodel wished to look back, but dared not give the impression of second-guessing her choice. Occasionally, the sound of Amroth’s voice reached back, borne on the wind, doubtless reassuring Nimrodel that she had made the right decision.

Mithrellas occasionally was obligated to glance back to make sure they had dropped nothing, and she tried to draw in these last looks at their homeland for the sake of Nimrodel.

At night they rested the horses and Nimrodel’s remaining people sat alongside Amroth’s and together they ate, and on one upbeat night, traded folk songs one after another.

But the foreboding of Mithrellas and Nimrodel was proven not all amiss when they reached the White Mountains. Knowing the danger of the path, the Elves had girded themselves to contend with those beings which inhabited the mountains, including goblins, giants who took none too kindly to trespass, and remnants of Morgoth’s creatures which gathered in hazardous places where Elves and Men seldom lingered.

What proved most treacherous after all, though, was the weather.

Even at this gentler time of year, for which reason Amroth had urged Nimrodel to accept now rather than wait until the year waned, the mountains were formidable, and the weather like to change on a whim.

Halfway through their first day into the pass, rain began to lash the company, and it did not let up until they were near to elevation, at which point the rain dissolved into a seemingly impenetrable fog. Landslides, rockfalls, and bolting horses contributed to the chaos, until Mithrellas and Nimrodel had only three other Elves alongside them, and had lost sight of Amroth and his men entirely.

“We must carry on!” Nimrodel insisted, her voice echoing against the rock. She bled from a gash across her right cheek and ear where a fragment of stone had struck her. “Amroth will wait for us on the other side, if needs be!”

By the time they reached the downside of the mountains, Mithrellas and Nimrodel were alone.

The mountain reclined into forest, where fog once more enveloped them amidst the thick foliage of that ancient wood. There was no path on which to walk, nor was either woman familiar with this place, and the horses and Silvan had committed acts of mutual abandonment so that Mithrellas and Nimrodel were on foot and bare of their provisions.

All her life Mithrellas had spent in the loving if occasionally stern embrace of the trees, and yet to stand there in that forest made her skin crawl as if she were a rabbit under the shadow of an owl.

Nimrodel looked about them in bewilderment, seeing no sign of Amroth, nor of the others of the company, nor of their mounts, and Mithrellas suspected her iron-willed lady was close to a breaking point.

“We must carry on!” Mithrellas echoed. “Amroth will await you beyond this foul wood!” It was not like her to cast such aspersions on a plant of any kind, but such were her nerves at that time.

Nimrodel spoke not, but they moved forward through the wood, taking turns at the lead. Mithrellas refused to look back; she did not want to see how deep into the forest they had gone, and she wished to give Nimrodel the reassurance of thinking that Mithrellas was certain of their course.

It was only when she paused in her blundering forward that she realized she could no longer hear Nimrodel’s steps behind her.

“My lady?” She turned back. “My lady?” It was possible Nimrodel had stepped into the foliage only for a moment, but unusual not to ask for a halt. When no answer came, Mithrellas tried again, panic beginning to swell her throat. “My lady, are you there? Please, answer me!”

There was only the wind in the trees, and the dying screech of some small animal—a rabbit, perhaps.

“My lady!” Mithrellas began to run back the way they had come, and she had gone but a few yards when she spied Nimrodel prone on the ground. “My lady!”

Nimrodel did not stir when Mithrellas rolled her over, nor did she wake when Mithrellas pinched her cheeks.

“Never fear, my lady,” she panted, dragging Nimrodel upright to scoop her into her arms. “I will see us through.” Nimrodel had led long enough—let it be Mithrellas now who was the pillar on which to lean.

Mithrellas had feared days of travel, but the woods came to an end by the close of day—or nearabout as Mithrellas could tell under such cloud cover—and not in all those hours did it cease to torment them. Every sound was an alarm; her face was stung with nettles; the howl of wolves chased at their heels; and the fog, the fog which covered all, which netted them up like flies in a web; which denied Mithrellas any sense of direction so that they were stumbling out of the eaves of the forest before she even knew it was over.

Heavily it seemed she felt Nimrodel’s weight as she staggered with relief through the thinning underbrush.

“Done,” she gasped. “That’s done!” Yet when she looked down to give Nimrodel a smile, her arms were empty, and the weight was gone. Eyes flying open, mouth agape, Mithrellas whipped about.

“My lady?” she cried, the register of her voice leaping to a hysterical squeal. “My lady!” She ran in circles around the edge of the forest, thoroughly convincing herself she could have dropped Nimrodel and somehow not noticed. “My lady!”

The trees loomed dark and jagged out of the obliterating fog, and Mithrellas panted like a trapped animal.

But she had made her choice long ago.

Back into the forest she went, beating through the foliage, looking for some evidence which did not exist.

“My lady!” she wailed. “My lady! Nimrodel!”

***

Two years Mithrellas spent in the forest in Dor-en-Ernil, trying to bury a fact she had known in her heart from the first moment she stepped back into the woods: there would be no sign of Nimrodel’s fate. Yet for the sake of one beloved, one may convince oneself of many things. At times, Mithrellas felt certain even that she had entered the forest alone, that Nimrodel must have remained behind in the mountains, and she ranged about there as well, but found no trace of Nimrodel, nor of Amroth, nor any of the others who had been with them.

When Imrazôr the Númenórean of Gondor found her with his hunting band, she could have mapped every inch of that forest, and could have believed herself the last person on earth, and had no will left for fighting. Everything of herself she had emptied into her quest for Nimrodel; there was nothing left, it seemed, of Mithrellas.

Imrazȏr, enraptured at once, promised her wealth and family and honor as a noble lady of Gondor, but all that Mithrellas heard was: rest. A place she might close her eyes, someone else to look after her, a forced end to the torment of her vain search.

So, wearily, Mithrellas plighted troth with Imrazȏr, and took the cloak he offered her from his own back, and as she turned away from the woods, she drew up the hood, and wept rather than look back.

***

Elves did not wed with Men, and Mithrellas was an oddity in Belfalas, the only one of her kind there, and Men even less familiar with Silvan Elves than with other Elven kindreds. They gaped at the geometric patterns inked beneath her eyes and on her chin, and many openly suspected she had ensorcelled their lord with Elven magics (to what this referred, Mithrellas could not possibly have guessed). Imrazȏr told her the fate of King Amroth of Lorien, and then—perhaps wishing to make a show of sympathy to his Elven wife for her drowned kindred—renamed the high hill on which his castle sat Dol Amroth. It seemed to Mithrellas that she slept now upon two graves.

(She thought better of Amroth, though: she too, would have thrown herself into the sea rather than be carried away from Nimrodel.)

Imrazȏr her husband treated her kindly enough, if he was dismissive of her thoughts, as he was dismissive of the thoughts of all women, and Mithrellas forgot that there had been a time she would not have tolerated being talked down to by men many hundreds of years her junior.

The Men of Belfalas laughed when they learned Mithrellas could not read nor write, and made many japes about the supposed superiority of Elfinesse, though one woman gently offered to write to any of Mithrellas’ family, if they would be able to read the letter. She thought of Enelion far off in Lothlorien, and of the differences she might cite between herself and Elves of the Sindar, Noldor, or other cultures, and declined the offer.

Traitor, she thought. Traitor, traitor, traitor.

A son she bore Imrazȏr, for it was expected: Galador, who was called the first prince of Dol Amroth. Imrazȏr was delighted with the boy, particularly as he had been concerned, Mithrellas knew, over the fertility of a union such as theirs, when she had not beget a child within the first year of their marriage. A hefty part of his attention was thus diverted to the boy, and he asked less after Mithrellas, and that was not entirely displeasing to her.

What would Nimrodel think of her now, as she sat in her hard-seated throne beside Imrazȏr, ruling over a court of Men, birthing Mannish children, keeping behind the cold walls of Dol Amroth as she was bidden?

Imrazȏr had seen her dirty and wild in the woods, and believed she was a broken thing which he could fix. What he misunderstood was that Mithrellas had no desire to be fixed. In her brokenness, life was made bearable: if she felt not the joy of her child’s love, nor the tenderness of friendship with the Men of Belfalas, nor the satisfaction of tasks well done, neither did she feel grief for Nimrodel or her lost people, which it seemed must consume her if she permitted it to exist at all. Perhaps to live in a city of stone, one must become stone, and so Mithrellas resisted the return of any feeling beyond the detached indifference which had carried her through the last several years.

On a time Imrazȏr gifted her a beautiful rowan horse on their anniversary, one which she knew by then must have cost a fortune, and took her riding out in the fields beyond the city walls, though the hill of Dol Amroth was always visible wherever they roamed.

He told her that he loved her, and called her “wife,” and praised her work in decorating the castle, though he chided her for allowing Galador to run too wild and grew cross here and there with her seemingly perpetual dolor. A-times he even managed to lighten her melancholy with his words or his songs, and Mithrellas told herself that this—that Dol Amroth, that Gondor, that Imrazôr—was her future, and so she became pregnant a second time.

***

Galador played in the yards and the streets like other mortal boys. When he played pretend, he named the kings of Númenor and the heroes of the houses of Hador, Bëor, and Haleth. When he spoke of the future, it was of ruling Dol Amroth and already other children deferred to him as the son of Imrazôr. He grew so quickly to Mithrellas’ eye—already he seemed halfway to adolescence, and yet it had been only a handful of years ago that she had produced him.

He was not interested in learning the names of plants or the histories of the Elves, for the Men of Dol Amroth boasted that the Age of Men was come, and the time of the Elves was past, and plant-lore was wise-women’s work, and Galador had little interest at that age in being a healer of any kind.

When Mithrellas took him out, he liked to race along the beach and wrestle in the mud, and sometimes that brought a smile to her face, but Imrazȏr did not think it appropriate for a young boy to spend too much time with his mother, nor was it thought proper for the princess of Dol Amroth to romp with a child; and Mithrellas often had other chores about the castle of which to take care. (These moments necessitated particular attention to her detachment, for they often came close to the tasks she had managed for her people before, in which she had once taken pride.)

There was the same fuss at Mithrellas’ second birth as there had been at the first, and it sobered her then as before to be reminded how fraught an endeavor it was for mortal women. Imrazȏr seemed relieved to find both mother and baby alive at the end of it.

Nevertheless, Mithrellas perceived that he was disappointed to have a baby girl, rather than another boy (She understood that in Gondor, as among some other peoples, only a male child could inherit land and titles by law, and so there was a preference for boy children). He offered to let her chose the name, but she accepted his suggestion of “Gilmith” as she knew she could not give the child an Elvish name. “Gilmith” recalled some ancestors of Imrazȏr whose story Mithrellas had not bothered to listen to, and when she looked at the child asleep in its cradle, she could not attach the name to the baby. “Gilmith” meant nothing to her. Gilmith did not belong to her.

“When you are well,” said Imrazȏr, “we must make plans to journey to Minas Tirith. It is time Galador saw the capitol.”

Mithrellas had heard from their guests and those of Dol Amroth who had been that Minas Tirith dwarfed Dol Amroth in size and towered as a mountain above the plains. She said nothing, and a nursemaid—not the same who had nursed Galador—arrived to take the babe away. Mithrellas had held her only once.

Mortal women needed time to recover from a birth, but two days gone Mithrellas had regained her strength, and with it, a budding restiveness she could not ignore. One night not a week from Gilmith’s birth, Mithrellas dressed herself and led her horse from the royal stables, bidding the stableboys quiet with a gesture. It was not that Imrazȏr forbade her from leaving Dol Amroth—it was only that he disliked her to go alone, and he would not approve of going so soon after childbirth, and he would tell her to put it off until the weather was better—which would not be so until fall was ended and winter come and gone and spring good and settled once more by his estimation, though the climate at seaside Dol Amroth was quite mild in Mithrellas’ opinion.

So Mithrellas told no one, and left under cover of darkness, and rode out to the edge of Dor-en-Ernil, out to the woods at the foot of the White Mountains. There her horse would go no further, so Mithrellas left it to return home or not, as it chose.

Into the wood she went. The years had not left it much changed, and Mithrellas’ old familiarity with it returned at once.

She walked.

Mithrellas was Elf-kind, and not given to the enfeeblement and world-weariness she had observed in Men, nor was she easily prey to exhaustion, but there was a frayed feeling about her which she had long felt, and it came upon her keenly then, and seemed to increase moment by moment. Her heart throbbed so sharply in her breast it was as if she had taken a blow to the sternum, and a fear began to overtake her that death was at her door. Elves did not die of age, but she had heard they might perish of sorrow, though she had never seen it herself. Perhaps that which she had kept so long at bay had come for her at last.

“I should not have left you behind,” Mithrellas said, pressing forward. It was not until she first stumbled that she became truly aware of how tired and clumsy she had become, but still she went on. The pain in her breast increased, and she felt choked as if there were a hand at her throat. After what seemed like hours of walking, she stumbled for the last time, and hit the ground in a small grassy knoll on her hands and knees.

The forest, which had seemed before to wield such malice, wrapped around her like a cloak. Overhead, the call of birds she had never heard in the city, and rustling through the underbrush little creatures that would be chased out of castle halls. The smell of the fallen leaves and animal trails and flower perfumes surrounded her.

“My lady,” she murmured. “I forgot…I forgot my place.” It was with Nimrodel, it was always with Nimrodel. Had she not decided that centuries past? What had possessed her to take the hand of some Man of a far-off land she knew not? What a coward she was!

Mithrellas sank down into the thick grass. It poked at her face and neck, and she pressed her face into the crisp scent of it.

“Nimrodel,” she whispered to the blades. “Nimrodel, Nimrodel…” What life had she been living in Gondor? Her life she had left behind in the east—with Nimrodel, with their people, with their land. She had gone with Imrazȏr because she was weary—but now it seemed no rest she had found in Gondor, only a different sort of weariness, and the grief from which she had tried to flee still lurking underneath.

A tremor wracked her body, and again the pain in her heart, and Mithrellas closed her eyes, and did not expect to open them again.

It would be good to die in the forest.

***

It was the sound that woke her. An almost halting kind of tune, as if sung by one hesitant, and when the nature of it was clear to her, Mithrellas wept profusely.

“Why do you weep?” asked Nimrodel, ceasing her song.

“For you must be dead, as I am,” Mithrellas answered. “Else I would not hear you here.”

Nimrodel’s arms tightened about her, pulling Mithrellas closer against her.

“Nay, not dead,” said Nimrodel. “For I think then I would not see you as I do now, nor feel your flesh against my flesh. Open your eyes, Mithrellas, and see.”

So Mithrellas opened her eyes, and loath as she was to part from Nimrodel’s embrace, she sat upright immediately, to gaze in wonderment upon the face of her lady. Recognition flooded through her at the sight of Nimrodel’s dark, dark eyes, with their lovely doe-eyed shape, and the tattoos at her throat and forehead which Mithrellas could and had sketched from memory, and her noble black brow.

“My lady!” she gasped, and reached out as if to touch Nimrodel’s face, but drew back before making contact. Nimrodel caught her pale hands and pressed them to her cheeks.

“My Mithrellas,” she said.

“My lady,” said Mithrellas again, and wept. Abruptly, as if remembering, she stopped and said: “Amroth is dead.”

Nimrodel looked sad, but not surprised.

“It has been a long while, hasn’t it?” she said softly. “I feel much has changed.”

“I betrayed your teachings,” Mithrellas blurted out in confession. “I lived in a stone city. I espoused a Man and bore him children. My son will be a prince of Gondor.” Her face crumpled, and the tears resumed. “I would that I had destroyed myself,” she said. “Better to have done it that way, than to live without you and the rest. Better to die than to have betrayed myself.”

Nimrodel studied the ground, still holding Mithrellas’ hands. Then she turned her gaze again on Mithrellas and said: “You are here, now. And I am glad.” She drew Mithrellas into a hug and held her there. “I hear your grief,” she murmured, “and for that I sorrow. I did not mean to leave you so long and lost.”

“I left you,” Mithrellas sobbed, her voice breaking. “I failed you. To you I committed myself and then I failed you. I—you were—you were in my arms! And we were free! But it wasn’t true.”  

“It is true now,” said Nimrodel, holding Mithrellas tighter. “And were I dead I would not have you sit at my grave forevermore. Rather I would have you love the flowers and the trees that would grow there. I would not see you destroyed for my sake.”

“I would never leave you again,” said Mithrellas. “I will never.”

“Such promises may prove difficult to hold in Middle-earth,” said Nimrodel, drawing back to look into Mithrellas’ face.

“Still I swear it,” said Mithrellas fiercely through her tears. “My loyalty has been yours since first I heard you speak, my lady. And though I have ignored it these past years, I have not forgotten it.”

“Ah, Mithrellas,” said Nimrodel softly, wiping at the tears on Mithrellas’ cheeks. “Your affection sustains me. I am glad ‘tis you, among all the rest, to find me here.” Mithrellas held back more tears, for she wished to see clearly, to drink in the sight of that much-beloved and long-missed face. When Mithrellas’ cheeks were mostly dry, Nimrodel rose to her feet and offered Mithrellas a hand. “Will you wander with me again, Mithrellas? Even in my slumber I have missed my companion.”

Mithrellas shifted onto her knees and grasped Nimrodel’s hand, bowing her head over it.

“I will go anywhere my lady commands,” she said.

“Your lady offers no commands,” said Nimrodel. “But Nimrodel asks a question of you.” Mithrellas tipped her chin up to gaze up at Nimrodel.

“I will go,” she said. “I will go gladly.”

“Then rise,” said Nimrodel, and Mithrellas did so. Then Nimrodel drew her nearer with a hand at her waist, and pressed her forehead to Mithrellas’. “If you chose to go, you would go with my love,” she said.

Mithrellas trembled, but spoke with breathless surety. “Having it, I could not imagine leaving, my—.” And then suddenly, Nimrodel’s name seemed far too intimate to speak aloud, and Mithrellas blushed.

“And if you stay, will I have your love?” Nimrodel asked. Her breath was warm on Mithrellas’ chin.

“My—. You have always had my love,” Mithrellas answered.

“And yet you would not counsel me against Amroth, not once I had decided.”

“What kind of love would intervene in the happiness of its object?”

Nimrodel observed her and then said: “You are a rare kind I think, Mithrellas. Again I feel I have been unjustly fortunate in your acquaintance. May I kiss you now?”

Mithrellas’ shock was difficult to put to words, but she had barely finished nodding assent when Nimrodel’s lips pressed over hers, and then Mithrellas felt she nearly swooned. When they parted, Nimrodel’s arms were tight around her, and Nimrodel was smiling.

“I have seen now how to effectively disarm the formidable Mithrellas!” she said.

“Not so formidable,” Mithrellas answered feebly, light-headed. “Not where—not where you are concerned.”

“Will you not call me by name, Mithrellas?” Mithrellas flushed again and looked askance. Nimrodel sobered again—they had never been much given to mirth, these two, and the recent years had added none to it—but she took Mithrellas’ hand and made to lead her further on, perhaps back over the mountains, or perhaps off to some new place. “Will you abide with me at least, then?”

Mithrellas gripped Nimrodel’s hand tightly, and locked her gaze with her companion’s.

“I will, Nimrodel,” she said.

***

Of Nimrodel, it is sung that she became separated from Amroth during their journey west, and fell into a long sleep, and came no more into the histories of the Elves but for the song and the river which to this day bear her name.

Of Mithrellas, it is said only that she disappeared after the birth of her second child, and never again returned to the realms of Men, though her strain of Elvish blood lingered long in the princes of Dol Amroth.

Where they wander now, none can tell, but where they go, they go together.

Nimrodel left and Mithrellas right from this picrew

[faroreskiss]

The Power of Understanding / Part 2 (v2)

Read on Ao3

Rewritten v2 posted on: 2023/09/10

Cheat Sheet

Chapters: Pilot, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Summary: You have been with the Chain for a while now, as their "scholar" and translator. You know everything about them, because you are from our world. But do they know the truth about how you can understand everyone? Loosely based on the same reader in my NSFW fic, which is a very loose prequel to this one, and a work in progress. More background info to come, if I feel like it :D Isekai reader, but she doesn't know about the Linked Universe. Warnings: None. SFW. Maybe Teen? Points of interest: This is your thing if you are into the mystery of chain being able to talk to each other. I am an actual trained linguist IRL, hence this HAD to be written! Some fluffy Twilight x Reader content in this chapter.

So, what was happening to you today? You just couldn't stop thinking about Twilight for some reason. You even carried your work over the stables, having to inhale the smell of horseshit around you. 

But he was just... there. Not like he has been far away lately. You’ve literally been stuck with him (and the rest of the chain) for around two years. Your ‘situationship’ with Wild was still there, and the rest of the chain was aware of it, you were guessing.  You both weren’t exactly super subtle about it, hand holding and such and sometimes a small kiss here and there, but you were never explicit with it either. Nobody questioned anything, everybody had their… quirks, you guessed. 

Did they think you were just in a relationship, you wondered sometimes. Were they even familiar with the word, situationship? Gods, what would they think of the involvement of you, Zelda and Link at the same time, if they knew? Technically, everybody had their room in the house in Hateno, but, well... Ah, you really missed Zelda too, and her delicate fingers on… You took a breath and then sighed. You were getting distracted.

Anyway, nobody owes anyone explanations in the Chain that you learned. That was the agreement of the Links, in which you were indirectly included. If they don't want to tell, you don't force them.

Except, you pretty much knew everything. Well, you weren't really familiar with any game where all the Links were together except maybe some fanfiction where they met in the afterlife, but Wild didn't "exist" back then, from your perspective.

Now, Time was out with the others, getting some business done in Castle Town. Wild also joined him to get some ingredients for the recipes he learned from Malon.

Back to Twilight... You were watching his strong arms, brushing the horse gently. He definitely had a tall stature compared to the other Links. The Links you are in contact with are ranging from their mid to late twenties, maybe early thirties (except Wind, though he was still almost a 16/17 -year-old teenager). So, most of them were fully adults.

"Hey, I can feel ya starin', ya know, Trivia Queen,” he said with his Ordona drawl that occasionally made an appearance, sighing, while still brushing his Epona.

Right. That was your nickname. When you first arrived, you kept spouting things about them that you supposedly should not "know" about, which made the Links (except Wild, he was used to it) extremely suspicious. Over time, they got used to it, especially after finding out about your "job" at Wild's world, as a historian, linguistics scholar. So they left it at that.

The other rule was that you were not supposed to discuss one Link with another, unless you are sure you are not revealing any secrets.

...which was a rule that was established right after you revealed that Twilight is Wolfie, to Wild. Seems like the Old Man already knew (you and Wild joined the chain pretty much as the latest additions), and it was his idea to come up with it. And it was kind of unfair because Wild said he already knew Wolfie from his initial adventure! Hah, good riddance. It did end up being revealed to everyone anyway, after his near death experience.

Fair to say, you were the persona non-grata for a while. And that nickname was not Trivia Queen, but it was Trivia-something else for a while (Thanks, Vet).

"Mhm," you idly replied.

Twilight raised an eyebrow, catching you lost in thought while the stables filled with the scent of horse dung. "Hey," he called out again, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Lost in your own world again?"

You sighed, blushing slightly, and tried to shake off the daydream of you and him in a big bear hug. "Yeah, just got a bit distracted," you admitted, turning your attention back to the ranch's budget paperwork. "These numbers can be quite mesmerizing, you know."

The rancher chuckled, his eyes warm as he continued brushing his Epona. "If you say so," he replied playfully. "But I have to admit, you manage to make even the most mundane tasks seem fascinating."

You couldn't help but smile at his compliment, feeling your heart flutter slightly. "Thanks, Link. You know how to make a 'trivia queen' blush," you teased back, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted.

His grin widened, and he leaned against the stable door, looking at you with that undeniable twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, really? Well, consider it a skill I've honed over time," he said, winking playfully.

You playfully rolled your eyes, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach. "I suppose I'll have to keep my guard up around you, then," you replied, feigning a serious tone.

Twilight chuckled, and for a moment, the two of you locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between you.

"You wish you could," he winked.

There was an unspoken awareness that, despite the friendly banter, there were lines he would not cross. You respected his relationship with Wild, and he respected your history with him. And of course, the fact that everybody's existence is but a flicker...

Yes... Who knows how long you will still be here anyway? Even the stuff with Wild and Flora is as dangerous as it is. You can literally disappear and get back to your own world, leaving them behind.

This was the thing that was stopping you from the other type of "feelings" you could catch. You never spoke about this with Wild or Flora. To be fair, not like there was any time to. You… literally had the most intense moment of intimacy one night, and less than 24 hours after that, you and Link were taken in via the portal and met with 8 other Links. Poor guy even hesitated to sleep with you in the same bedroll, literally the night after. 

 And since the adventures with the Chain started, there was this weird gloom between you two sometimes (both missing Zelda), but the respect you have for each other never disappeared. That was another unspoken agreement.

The moment you want to speak about this awkward issue of you having a heart big enough for love for other people, the reality of your existence would be bare.

Anybody can disappear, forever, anytime.

Time's return broke the moment, and you both quickly resumed your tasks, acting as if nothing significant had transpired. "So, what were you two chatting about?" Time inquired with a sly grin.

"Just discussing the ranch's budget," you replied casually, keeping things vague.

The Old Man raised an eyebrow but seemed to take your word for it. "Alright then, just remember we've got some preparations to make before the next portal appears," he said, his eyes flickering with a knowing but serious glint. It wasn't the first time he witnessed something like this.

You nodded, grateful for the diversion. "Of course, I'll get back to work."

As the day went on, you couldn't help but steal glances at Twilight, his presence always managing to captivate you. Though you were the "translation magic" of the group, your understanding of him went beyond language. It was a connection that had been forged through shared experiences and unspoken feelings of the last couple of years, despite the initial incidents you had.

And as you continued to work alongside the Chain, you held onto the hope that, in the midst of all the chaos and adventure, there might be a chance for your paths to intertwine in a more profound way. For now, you would cherish the friendly banter and the secret glances, knowing that no matter how many worlds you traveled, Twilight would be a part of your heart's journey, for now.

[jomamaofficial]

Death After Noon (Kaeya x GN!Reader Dark Angst Oneshot)

A/N: Day 3 of the holiday writing streak hehe. Hello my lovely toes, I am back with another angst fic. But this time, I’ve tried a new format out hehe: reverse comfort → angst no comfort </3. Also, if you didn’t see my last post, I AM WORKING ON A QUIRK MARRIAGE MULTIPLE CHAPTER FANFICTION WITH OUR GOLD MINE OF ANGST, SHOUTO TODOROKI. If you want some more information, filter through the richiethetoe’s updates tag :). As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I would love to give back to our little community here. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts about the new format I experimented with hehe. CW's: Intimate acts (kissing, making out, SFW touching), Alcoholism. Masterlist Word Count: 1505. Summary: Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, the infamous heart breaker of Mondstadt. And your sole reason for pure and utter joy. Sharing moments he never shared with anyone but you, it makes you wonder how someone could say that they love you so much but then just decide that they don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

——————————————————————————————————

His smile was infectious. A simple chuckle– warm and deep.

It lifted all the burdens in your life.

It was cheesy. Cliché even. But you couldn’t help smiling at every shared moment with him. 

The chaste, knowing glances– his eyes always finding yours in a crowded room. The subtle closeness– his fingers brushing past yours. 

The tall, and dark, and handsome man became your Prince Charming in your Shakespearan tragedy. His smile could tug the heartstrings of the Holy Lyre, enticing Barbatos himself to descend down to Teyvat, mistaking it for the heavens above; his hair reflected the celestial twilight: a vast ocean for your fingers to tread through as he rest his beautiful face on your lap, his lunar eyes staring into the void of your heart, pushing and pulling until it soared in tides. 

Kaeya Alberich was the rich poetry scribed in gold, filling the pages of your empty book in lavish ink– envied by many, obtained by one. 

Late nights in the Angel’s Share were spent: skin against skin, his fingers sneaking over yours. Intertwined in a beautiful mess, with heated cheeks, and cool, deep tingles, which ran through your spine. 

The two of you were Diluc’s worst nightmare. The older brother had his reservations towards both of your… public approaches to intimacy. But the brother held sympathy in his eyes; his stoic face would always fog up in questions when he saw your longing one. 

Diluc was weary of his younger brother. 

He sent sharp glares and hushed warnings to both of you. Yet instead of listening to him, Kaeya grabbed your hand and ran into the awaiting darkness. You stumbled as you traversed along the winding allies of Mondstadt, his greedy, impatient hands picking at the buttons on your shirt, guiding your bodies into an empty Inn.

Yet when he was finally in the  solitude of your comfort, concealed from the prying eyes, his deep desire evaporated, in its place left deep adoration.  

You basked in the rays of filtered silence, his hands soothing your waist and holding you tight against his flushed body. He nestled his head, heavy with thoughts, on your chest, tracing absent shapes on your skin whilst his touch got softer and softer the more you stroked his hair. 

“What I wouldn’t do. To stay like this forever”, he spoke, voice so soft and incoherent, you almost mistook him for another. 

 “Going home was snatched from my fate, my angel. It was never an option”. 

He pushed his head against the increasing gravity, his eyes heavy. He glued your gaze to his, and you peered at your reflection wavering in his crashing waves– his irises, cloudy and grey. 

“So why does your embrace feel like home to me?” he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly, his breath uneven as he lingered at your lips before lifting his head, his misty blue eyes trapped behind his lashes. 

You were just an inch apart from his lips, and you could smell an assault of booze and liquor. Yet this time, you didn’t want to get drunk off of it. 

You wanted to savour it. 

Your hand seeped warmth through his cold cheek, his face glowing, a gentle radiance. 

So fragile, you shivered as you cradled him in your hand, jumping head first into the abyss of his eyes, trying to decipher the harbouring storm that formed underneath. 

He seeked permission, his lips drawing closer. 

And how could you refuse him, when he was sprawled in your lap, so exposed? So vulnerable? 

“I love you so much, Kaeya”, you whispered, only for him to hear.��

You were so inviting, so kind. 

His confident demeanour shrivelled; he didn’t know how to act when you patiently waited for his lips to close the gap.

So he cautiously pressed a peck to your lips. 

His sweet hesitance filled you with travelling butterflies that spread their wings, fluttering colour to your face, and comfort through your core. 

And for the first time, Kaeya felt as though his guard was melting. The heavy armour finally peeled away.

Such a simple moment, but for him it was so unfamiliar. 

His lips had touched many. But they were sloppy, sticky, and seductive. 

But he had never kissed someone. 

With love, tenderness, and care. 

You were his first. 

His first kiss.

Your thumb grazed past his cheek, your feather touches travelling to his jaw, shakily cupping it. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yes…”

And this time you closed the gap. Your hands left his face and rubbed his back. 

You felt as though he would shatter in your hold, like a shard of glass. Your breathing matched with the slow pace of his, as one of your hands travelled to his scalp, tenderly scratching it. Kaeya leaned into the touch, sighing as he pulled away from your lips, his eyes closed. Your fingers removed his worries, one by one, plucking at every strand and blowing them far, far away from him. 

You were the reason his head was lighter.  

You deserved so much more. 

“You deserve so much better than me…” he babbled, only to be silenced by another kiss. 

He pulled away to babble again.

“If you knew the real me, you would never come back”. 

You pulled him in again. Your taste was sugar for his bitter words. 

“Never let me go”, he pleaded. 

And you detached your hands from his back and head to extend your pinky forward. 

“Never”, you promised, curling your pinky around his. Such childish antics. Such sinless  memories. 

“I love you, Y/N”. 

-

With a dry throat and a splitting headache, Kaeya woke up to the ray of sunlight that peeked through the blinds. His eyes blinked the fatigue away, his hand shielding them from the piercing radiance. 

He examined the room he spent the night in. Unfamiliar as always. 

“I’ve gotta’ stop drinking”, he muttered.

Kaeya let out a yawn, before leaning his hand on the side of the bed, fingers reaching for a shirt. 

“How high is this thing?” he mumbled, leaning further down until they hit the wooden floor. 

Brows knit in frustration, he craned his head on the side, scanning the empty floor. Apart from the legs of a chair, there was nothing. 

Eyes squinting, he peered beyond the foot of the bed. 

Nothing. 

Just the chair standing solitude in front of the uncovered windows.

He couldn’t remember what he wore the day before either. 

Fuck. 

The sudden movements caught up to the throbbing ache drumming in his head. With a wince, he settled against the brick walls, closing his eyes to alleviate the pressure in his temple. 

The absence of his rapid movements cast pure silence in the room. And the early morning was kind enough to hold the burden of his thoughts temporarily; it cast pure silence in his mind. So when a soft rustle tainted the abyssal stillness, he flinched, the hair on his arms erect and alert. 

It was coming from beside him. On his left. Underneath a mast of thick, white linen. 

With a few strands of hair poking from the top, he shifted his focus onto the constant rise and fall. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

The air was still around him. 

Kaeya stared at the sleeping figure; his lips were pressed together, his fingers tense as they clutched his matching duvet.

Thoughts were crossing his mind again. The silence, destroyed. 

His hands reached towards the figure, reluctant. hesitant. 

Kaeya exhaled, breathing shallow. 

Using his thumb and index finger, he grabbed onto a crisp cover with the tips, drawing them back, inch by inch. 

His heart beat faster as he slowly unveiled the duvet, Every piece of revealed skin matching together as a puzzle until he reached the chin. 

Beside him lay delicate features, so innocent, lounging comfortably beside him. The light of dawn diffused a rosy hue on your cheeks. His glazed eyes began to thaw along with his hands. 

His smiling eyes trailed down the curve of your neck that disappeared into a silk collar, hidden. 

But then his smile dropped: eyes scrunched and lips parted. 

A collar.

And suddenly, he narrowed on the reflection behind you: his black shirt hanging off of his chest, with maybe one or two buttons open. His hair, tame. His skin, clear: empty of any bites or bruises. 

His gaze focused on the sliver of your exposed skin. 

Clear: empty of any bites or bruises. 

The forgotten headache was back, louder than before, seeking his attention as his vision disfigured. His chest tightened, his thoughts flooding the memories from last night. 

What did he say to you.

-

A lonely flask sat on the bedside table. An overwhelming absence. 

What a fool you truly were. 

A fool because you dove head first, even though you knew this would happen. 

How could someone say that they love you so much but then just decide that they don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

Kaeya Alberich could. He always did.

[aeonphantasia]

To all the akuroku shippers (and to my own amusement lol), I made a small summary of all the times Axel and Roxas met and spent time together throughout the KH 358/2 Days game because i feel like the movie version didn't do justice to them. It's a very small outline and i'm already planning to do a more detailed breakdown in the future to showcase how their relationship has changed through that one year. Hope you enjoy it!!

Also, I want to dedicate this to all the akuroku fans out there who have written beautiful fics about these two. I know there's an akrk discord where you meet and discuss about them. I made this for you, for reference if you want as a thanks for all your wonderful works!!! (I would tag you all but i'm a bit shy, so you know who you are!)

n.b. the days marked with a ! indicate an important milestone in their relationship.

PART 1 - here.

!DAY 255 - THE LONGEST DAY Axel meets Xion in C.O. and asks her to leave and forget everything. Axel meets Roxas for ice cream. (This is where the famous ‘why the sun sets red’ scene happens). Roxas wonders about Xion. Axel lies and tells him she is on an important mission. Roxas feels Axel is not being entirely honest and he too seems like is not himself. Xion finds the truth about herself. 

!DAY 256 - NEWS Org.XIII has a meeting discussing Xion who has left. Xemnas forbids anyone to go look for her. Roxas is disheartened. After his mission he is alone eating ice cream. Roxas wishes Axel would be there with him. Axel stands hidden in silence on the clocktower, observing Roxas. 

!DAY 257 - HOLLOW Roxas sits alone on the clocktower. He’s sad. Wonders where his friends are. Roxas seems sure Axel is avoiding him. 

DAY 276 - DISORDER After a long time, Axel joins Roxas on the clocktower. Axel resolves they will go look for Xion the next day. Axel is worried about Xion too.

DAY 277 Brief meeting in the morning. Roxas looks for Xion. 

DAY 278 Brief meeting in the morning. Roxas looks for Xion. 

!DAY 296 - CONFESSIONS Brief meeting in the morning. Later, Roxas and Axel sit on the clocktower. Roxas wants to look for Xion in C.O. Axel confesses that’s where Xion comes from. 

!DAY 297 - CONTACT Axel and Roxas go to C.O. Roxas collapses. He wakes up next to Axel in Twilight Town. They briefly see Xion but she runs away. Roxas questions her actions. Axel seems reluctant. 

!DAY 298 - FRACTURE Roxas witnesses Saix ordering Axel to bring Xion back with force, considering her a traitor. Axel promises he won’t hurt her. Roxas has been ordered to find the impostor (Riku). During his mission he finds Xion and begs her to come back, which she refuses. After trying to grab her, she summons her keyblade. Axel, who was secretly witnessing the scene, charges towards Xion and they have a fight which Roxas tries to stop. Axel knocks Xion unconscious and brings her back to the castle. Roxas catches up to him asking for an explanation and accusing him of not keeping his promise not to hurt her. Axel remains indifferent. Roxas is cross with Axel.

!DAY 299 - SORA Roxas learns from Xemnas about Sora. When he’s greeted by Axel, he ignores him. Axel keeps ignoring his guilt towards Roxas and the lies he’s telling him, convincing himself that that’s what being a nobody means. Yet, he feels something is not right. ‘Roxas doesn't trust me after the whole Xion incident, but I can't tell him the truth yet. So I keep lying. It's no big deal when you're a Nobody. There's no guilt, no feeling at all. So why does it still sting, just a little, when I lie to him? All my dealings with Roxas give me this bizarre illusion of humanity.’

!DAY 300 - SHUTDOWN Axel and Xion join Roxas for ice cream. None of them speak a word.

!DAY 301 - VACANT PLACE Roxas eats ice cream alone. He starts feeling tired. Axel doesn’t know how to talk to Roxas. 

!DAY 321 - WANING POWER Roxas and Xion have ice cream together. Roxas complains about the way Axel treated Xion and he’s mad at him as far as calling him ‘jerk’, which takes Xion aback. She (very sweetly) explains to him that if it wasn’t for Axel she wouldn’t be here with him now. Roxas is still cross. (The little dialogue they have is actually very sweet and emphasizes my HC that Xion is very aware of the feelings Axel and Roxas have for each other.) Roxas: I can't believe that jerk would actually attack you. Xion: So he's a jerk now? (Roxas says nothing) Xion: Roxas, I wouldn't be sitting here with you if Axel hadn't done that. (Roxas still says nothing) Xion: He's your best friend. Roxas: So are you. Later, Xion meets with Axel. She is worried about Roxas, and Axel tells her (very rudely) it’s because she is absorbing his powers. Once again, Axel states that they are best friends and can’t take decisions on her behalf. 

DAY 322 Roxas has ice cream on his own and wishes he can meet with his friends again like before. 

DAY 324 Roxas has ice cream alone. 

!DAY 352 - SUNSET Brief meeting in the morning. Axel is worried about Roxas. During his mission, Roxas fights a powerful nobody. Just before the final attack Axel appears and stops the fight revealing the mission to be a setup: Xion and Roxas were actually fighting each other. Later they eat ice cream together. They enjoy their time together and Roxas proposes the three of them to run off so they can always be together. Roxas promises to never forget these memories. ‘Me and Xion and Axel had ice cream. The sunset was beautiful.I don't have to write anything else down, because I'll never forget this day.’

!DAY 353 - RESOLVE After his mission, Roxas is back at the castle. He learns that Xion has disappeared again and Axel let her go without stopping her. Finally, Axel tells Roxas the truth about Xion and how he would trade her to save Roxas’ life. Roxas is very upset. He thinks he can’t trust Axel anymore. (I cannot NOT include their dialogue because it is extremely powerful and emotional). Roxas: What happened out there? Axel: Look, nothing. Roxas: Xion's gone! How is that nothing? Axel: It's just like Xigbar said. I couldn't stop her from going. Roxas: Don't give me that! Why not? Axel (crossing his arms): Roxas... Xion is like a mirror that reflects you. Roxas: What? Axel: The Organization made her to duplicate your powers. She's a puppet Roxas: Have you gone nuts? Xion's a person, not a puppet. Axel: She's smoke and mirrors, Roxas. And when I looked in the mirror... It wasn't you I saw. Roxas: I don't know what you're talking about, but Xion is Xion. You can't expect her to be me. Axel: That's not what I mean, Roxas. It was only a matter of time before somebody had to break the mirror. Roxas: You mean destroy her. (Axel looks away) Roxas: Answer me! Axel: Roxas, if somebody doesn't, you'll... You won't be you anymore. Roxas: I'll always be me! Your best friend--just like Xion! Axel (shaking his head): Roxas, you're...you're not seeing the bigger picture. Any of it. Roxas: Ugh, forget this. (Roxas starts to leave) Axel: Roxas! (He runs away) Axel: Why can't you understand…

!DAY 354 - TRUTH Org.XIII has a meeting. Xemnas orders Axel to capture Xion once again. Roxas is against it. He is angry at Axel for keeping the truth from him for so long. Roxas wonders if he is a puppet too. 

!DAY 355 - UNSAID, UNHEARD Roxas meets Axel and the two have a bad confrontation. (Again, I’ll let their dialogue do the talking. This is the best piece of writing of the entire game. I call this ‘The Break-up’). Roxas: Axel. Axel: Hey, Roxas. (They stand silent for a moment) Roxas: You find Xion? Axel: Like it's gonna be that easy. Roxas: I know… (Axel says nothing) Roxas: Have you been keeping the truth about her from me this whole time? Axel: ...Not the whole time. Roxas: When did you find out? Axel: Oh, I dunno. Somewhere along the way. Roxas: Didn't get it memorized, huh? Axel... Who am I, really? (Axel says nothing) Roxas: I'm special, like Xion. I know that. (Axel remains silent) Roxas: But the Organization wanted me out of the picture. Axel: Yeah... They did. Roxas: Is it because Xion copied by Keyblade and they didn't need me anymore? (Axel continues to say nothing) Roxas: And you feel the same way. Axel: No, you've got that part wrong. You'll always be my best friend. Roxas: Best friends are honest with each other! Who am I, Axel? (Axel looks away) Roxas: Xemnas said me and Xion are connected to Sora. Who is that? Tell me! Am I a puppet like Xion? Axel: No… Roxas: What, then? Axel: You really think the truth is going to make you feel better? It won't. Roxas: What makes you so sure? I have a right to know who I am! How did I get here? Why am I special? Where did I learn to use the Keyblade? I deserve those answers! Axel: Roxas… Roxas (sighing): Are you gonna tell me or not? Axel... Who am I? Axel: You've just gotta trust me, Roxas. (He turns around) Roxas: I don't. Axel: Hey, c'mon… Roxas: If I can't get answers here, I'll get them somewhere else. Somebody knows where I came from. That'll be the person I trust.

Roxas leaves. Outside of the Castle, they meet one more time. Axel: Your mind's made up? (He stops) Roxas: Why did the Keyblade choose me? I have to know. Axel: You can't turn on the Organization! You get on their bad side, and they'll destroy you! Roxas: No one would miss me. (He walks away) Axel: That's not true... I would.

DAY 356 - PLACE TO BELONG Axel meets Xion and they fight. Axel brings Xion back and then he collapses from fatigue. 

!DAY 357 - TEARS Roxas and Xion fight. Xion disappears into the light. Axel finds an envelope. Inside, there’s a ‘WINNER’ stick. 

-END.

[amor-immortalem]

Hi hi. I'm in the mood for angst and I really enjoyed your brothers react to MC enforcing the pact on Mammon. So I was wondering if you could do a brothers react to Mammon getting hurt saving one of them and maybe is in a coma or has irreversible damage like losing a wing etc your creative choice. Like all of them react to the news or maybe they witness it. Mammon saving one specific bro from an assassination attempt or an explosion from the science lab type accident of your choice. I'd prefer if it was either Beel or Satan. It would be nice if it was more of the fic style version but I wouldn't mind the head cannon bullet point version. Your writing is really good especially the angst 🤧

A/N: hope this lives up to your expectations, anon. I tried to go with like a pre-nightbringer-esqe setting just because I feel like in the ‘modern’ times the brothers are pretty much tolerated so there would really be no reason for an assassination attempt on anyone and I couldn’t get behind a scenario of an accident at school either (trust me, I tried! that’s what drafts 1, 2, and 3 were all about…) also it’s written half-and-half, one part story format, the other part bullet list format.

Warnings: Not canon-compliant (cuz I just can’t be arsed to care about canon atp) personal headcanons used, potential ooc-ness description of injuries

I wrote most of this during the height one of my manic phases so sorry if this isn’t worded well.

・・・〆・・・

It was supposed to be a normal day for the brothers- just a normal day where they continued to hide away in the castle while they awaited more permanent housing to finish being constructed but it just seemed to not be in the cards for the new demons.

There was a ball held by Diavolo to welcome the Devildom’s newest elite- war criminals who’d fled from the Celestial Realm after a failed rebellion to save one of their own.

Mammon notes how these nobles are all sizing him and his brothers up for any weaknesses among them- not too dissimilar from a pack of lionesses picking out the weakest gazelle in the herd. It makes him uneasy, wings pulling tight to his war-wounded body. The leathery texture makes the demon squirm. It wasn’t too long ago that those very same wings were once a pure white with feathers dyed crimson by the blood of his fallen former brothers and sisters- maybe just a couple of months ago at most.

“Here.” Beelzebub holds a plate out to his older brother, drawing Mammon from his thoughts. “You should eat something.”

It’s filled with a generous portion of gourmet foods that make second-born’s stomach queasy. He’s still not used to his food having such otherworldly colors and abominable textures to it. If Mammon’s being honest, he’d rather starve.

“Thanks, Beel,” he turns his eyes back to the crowd of demons in the ball room, “but I think I’m gonna pass this time.”

“You’ve been passing for the last week,” the sixth-born frowns, worried for the second. “Your wounds will never heal right if you don’t take care of your body inside and out.”

“Do you notice the way they’re looking at us?” Mammon changes the subject. “I don’t like it.”

“We’re safe, Mammon.” Beel insists, twilight-gradient eyes follow his brother's line of sight. “Lucifer’s here- he’ll protect us if any trouble arises. Let yourself relax for a moment.”

“Lucifer’s got his hands full with Satan at the moment.” The white-haired demon only sighs, watching his exhausted-looking older brother attempt to wrangle the demonic child in his arms. “That group over there’s been eyein’ the two of ‘em up ever since this whole shindig started. The one over there’s been watching Levi ‘n Asmo ‘n then you and I have our own dedicated group of spectators as well.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Beel sets the plate down and takes a much closer look at the crowd surrounding them to find his brother is indeed right. “You noticed all that from just observing them?”

Mammon nods slowly blue-to-gold eyes still scanning around them in hyper-vigilance. Something has felt wrong ever since the ball began and the demon can’t quite put his finger on what it was.

And then everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Glass shatters, screams can be heard, a volley of arrows thunks into the ground one right after another.

The attendees panic- typical of nobles who’ve not once seen the hell of a battlefield- as Diavolo and his father begin attempting to calm them, so none are trampled in the hysteria.

The brothers group together as close as they can with their nearest sibling in all the chaos, all of them on high alert to whatever threat there is. They stand back-to-back in their own separate little groups to ensure nothing can creep up on them in all this as they begin to move to each other.

That’s when Mammon hears it, the whizzing of another set of arrows to his left. There’s not much time to react as the tanned demon uses all his strength to shove Beel forward, knocking his brother off kilter and straight onto his front.

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

Mammon doesn’t necessarily feel it at the moment of impact. All he knows is that he can’t breathe, and a warm liquid is flooding throughout his airway. His ears are ringing, and the sounds of his brothers’ voices are all muffled, almost mute and he can’t move his left and wing from his side.

Mammon starts to choke on the fluid backing-up in his airways as he coughs and gasps and he finally looks down to see the arrows piercing his throat and side, golden lines of celestial magic spiderwebbing out from the points of entry as his skin starts to crack and decay at an alarming rate. His vision is starting to go dark now, black spots dancing all around the white-haired demon’s eyesight from lack of oxygen.

The last thing he can remember is meeting Beel’s eyes and seeing the sheer horror in them as the six-born realizes that, yet again, he’s failed to protect one of his siblings.

・・・〆・・・

The Reactions:

Lucifer

• Can not believe this is happening

• He thought they’d be safe here. How could he have been so careless?

• It almost feels like he’s reliving the war and that terrifies him. He can’t lose another sibling.

• The first to react, he’s across the room in a flash, doing everything in his limited power to help his favorite brother while the others stand around too shocked to do anything for the moment.

• The damage to his skin looks like it’ll take eons to repair on its own and his wing already looks unsalvageable.

• When he catches whoever did this, they’re going to wish they were never created.

Levi:

• *cue internal screaming*

• He’s fine! He’ll be fine! We won’t lose another sibling like we lost Lilith!

• Mans was paralyzed by shock at the scene before him- some ex-General he is…

• After the whole ordeal he goes to visit his brother in the hospital despite all the demons there and how uncomfortable he is in settings like that.

• He leaves feeling even worse for not acting sooner after seeing the way Mammon’s wing is nearly mangled and the way his skin is chalky and cracked where the arrow heads pierced his body.

Satan:

• The noise and promptly being dropped on his ass is what really catches Satan’s attention

• His tiny body is still filled with nothing but rage and contempt for the family he got stuck with at this point so he doesn’t exactly care that one of his brothers might die

• He doesn’t really expect Mammon to bite the big one though- I mean, this is the same brother Satan watched get his shit rocked by Lucifer not more than two nights ago for stealing something out of the royal vault. He’ll live.

• After Mammon comes home from the hospital though, Satan is a pest ™️

• After hearing the others talk about how dangerous Celestial Gold can be for demons and how it’s nothing short of a miracle that Mammon didn’t immediately combust in the areas where is body came into contact with it, Satan decides he’s going to study his brother like a bug.

• And Mammon’s a good sport about it… until it turns into a six-month ordeal before ultimately Satan decides there’s no more information left to glean from his observations…

Asmo:

• “Did that really just happen?”

• His jaw? On the floor- Beel’s such a big demon and Mammon just shoved him down like it was nothing!

• But now’s not the time to be admiring his older brother’s strength- this is an actual emergency!

• Does his best to help with what little medical knowledge he did have- in the war between angels and demons, he’d been conscripted to a legion responsible for healing other injured angels so at least he knows enough about what not to do.

• “No Beel, don’t pull the arrows out like that, you’ll injure him more!”

• After Mammon comes home from the hospital though, Asmo’s there to help him find ways to hide the scarring without the use of glamour magic.

• Also, like the king of boosting people’s self-esteem so like if Mammon’s ever feelin’ down ‘n out about the scarring, he’d always have something to say make him feel better like: “some people are into scars, you know?” Or “No, they don’t make you ugly, they add to your character.”

Beel:

• This poor demon- he got to watch as his little sister died at the hands of these same arrows, now his older brother is meeting the same fate?

• Not on Beel’s watch.

• Tablecloths are being torn to shreds so he has enough material to pack and dress the wounds in makeshift bandages until they could get their brother properly treated.

• Afterwards, he blames himself every day for what happened even after Mammon comes home from the hospital.

• Thinks he should have been the one to get shot up by all those arrows.

• Always making some kind of meal for his brother- the quickest way to promote healing is to make sure one’s body is properly nourished after all.

Belphie:

• Didn’t see the initial incident because he skipped out 20 minutes before shit hit the fan to go take a fat nap. (Can you blame him though? The music was calming, the food filled him right up; it was only inevitable)

• When he wakes up, he initially doesn’t seem all that bothered because he’s good at hiding that shit

• But on the inside? Whoo boy, he’s sweating bullets. What if the worst comes to pass?

• “What do you mean the arrow heads were laced with Celestial Gold?? that shit’s lethal to demons.”

• Breathes the biggest mental sigh of relief once he finds out his brother’s gonna be okay.

• Crisis averted; he can go back to be the annoying baby brother now.

• Doesn’t draw too much attention to Mammon’s wounds- mostly so he can avoid thinking about the incident himself.

[c-c-cherry]

Thank you wonderful @justanotherinterneruser for tagging me in this silly little challenge! To reiterate the rules: pick 10 of your fics and post the first line of each? Teeheehee...

So going through my works, I realized I have a whopping 55 of them?! It has been a long time on here I suppose. I decided to randomly generate by number to make it fun. I wonder if anyone following on here have been around for all of these? (lookin at you jojo era cause those are definitely the oldest on here)

1 - "Reigen should have waited for Mob to get off school when he got the call." (Good ol' Area Hysteria, mp100. Working steadily on this but life has decided to make me internet absent as of late.)

2- "Hey, Giorno." (The Stoooooooorm. jjba fellas will remember back when this fic was my 2020 Area Hysteria hahaha)

3- “Dude…is this like, our first Halloween together?” (Morioh's spooky swamp stories, jjba. Silly halloween fic for a silly halloween)

4- "Alphonse Elric?" (Heavy Lifting, fma. Very short but I had a lot of fun teehee)

5- "Lady Palutena?" (Wingless words, kiu. Cry I promise I'll finish this soon)

6- "…and then after giving me shit for dragging him over here even though these missions are his job, he insisted that I have no idea what I'm talking about …." (Live Wire, fma. As soon as I fall back into this fandom its over for all of you.)

7 - Gilbert Blythe did not want to be a farmer. (The Art of Being Alone. Any awae fans out there? No? Didn't think so.)

8 - "Fucking Farore, Twi," Legend breathed out, "You made it seem like your Hyrule was a wasteland." (Where The Heart Is, loz/lu. Most self-indulgent gift fic I wrote for my own giftee's pleasure)

9 - "Killua liked to think that he wasn’t affected by anything." (In the Moment, hxh. You guys don't understand I have so many ideas for this fandom. I just need time and a good rewatch)

10 - “Has anyone seen my shoulder armour?” (Heart on your Armour, loz/lu. Making twilight and time bond is forever my unguilty pleasure)

***

What I've learned from this is that I love to start my works with dialogue. Good habit or bad habit?

I got no one really to tag but I ask @jjadegreen to do this if you want toooo. I also invite anyone reading this to just go ahead and do it but TAG ME TAG MEEEE I WANNA SEEEEE