#anyways honestly thanks for this i. needed a name for links horse

[1tsjusty0u]

hm. horse names. does link do much with horses + what did he name any horses he has + any personalities? also what is zelda's horse named

hrose…

hm!! id say he travels a bit with horses, its how he got to kakariko hateno and such. as time goes on he uses them less because they cant climb mountains well and he doesnt want to leave them in case monsters get to them/they wander off (despawn). also as time goes on he has fast travel so he doesnt have to use horses anymore which is kind of sad. he never uses the big horse even when he catches them

for names i like to think hes bad at naming things (shaking his hand) so you end up with names like twig or signpost. for his actual horses though id say he has all 5 slots; his first and main horse is Bug, shes probably gentle temperament because thats the type of horses that dont buck you off if you dont press L fast enough. he got zeldas ancestral horse and the big horse, zeldas horse having Saff as a placeholder name (safula reference), once zelda is freed though she names them Saffron + theyre now her horse. she keeps them. for the big horse, on one hand din is a fitting name, however thats kind of like naming your cat after a god that you believe in (like jesus.) it sort of works for greek gods and such but i dont think link would actually do that so. yeag. speaking of which while looking up where eponas name comes from possibly epona is actually the name of a celtic patron goddess for foals and horses so. snorts. ANYWAYS i think a kid would name the horse instead of link, and as such their name is Dinners. both in reference to din but also “how hungry” horse. for the other two horses, one would be once he finds out wild temperament horses have better stats (though how he finds this out is questionable, considering i dont think the horse facts guy mentions it + how i found out was from a croton video </3. pre calamity he probably found out by testing and researching/reading, so post cal is either a remnant from that or the horse facts guy Does tell him and we can ignore its not actually said in the base game 👍), and one is from just. not having a horse somewhere and temporarily taming it, however they follow him when hes not riding them and they go so far he just kind of. registers them. wild horse is named Clover and the following horse is named Jerry

personality wise Saffron is a bit what youd expect (stubborn and EXTREMELY UNHAPPY to be ridden as a horse.) he warms up eventually but sometimes he still just veers off the road/turns around at max bond just to be petty/prank them. that one horse post about horses adjusting to the people riding them and making their Own decisions when driving (biting off saddles i think? something about weight…), saff would do something like that. otherwise though number 1 rated grass eater and plant stomper, would be a pain for the stable owners and will pick fights with dogs. while he accepts being a transportation animal eventually he Will Not move cargo. that is his one rule, you will Not put on a wagon attached to his saddle he will make so many horse noises about it. Dinners is less stubborn and more blood thirsty. she Will run over herons without input from link. running over bokoblins is her favorite past time. however she also is a huge horse fan in general, especially with the little horses she can be found with. she doesnt really pick fights but she does bite sometimes. not out of malice but curiosity. or sometimes just because she can. get bit nerd. she actually likes having cargo it becomes a challenge to go as fast as possible without dropping it (which leads to stress inducing situations sometimes). otherwise she just chills mostly. would probably sleep in a weird position. she would run over donkeys if she could. Bug is just friendly. a chronic wander, but friendly! because she wanders if link isnt really telling them to go anywhere they just move on their own like minecraft horses. and because of this link cant leave them anywhere because theyll be on a completely different part of the map then where he left them. huge fan of flowers for food and also apples. to be fair all horses are but she gets the most apples out of all of links horses (favoritism). would probably eat a bee hive/wasp nest (fun fact!! beehives in botw are actually really similar to wasp nests rather than actual beehives!!). theyre indifferent to cargo. Clover is Fast. a bit less spurs but they are So Fast. constantly picking things up no matter what they are/the cons of quences. they are The cargo horse. like the name implies they like to eat clovers, and they also have like. grass in their mouth constantly like a cowperson. they would absolutely herd animals. big fan of ruins honestly they just smell weird. every time theres a split in the road they always go the opposite direction of what link needs and he has to steer them the other way around. would crash into trees quite a bit. also energetic constantly they Need to be doing something always. also yes this horse is a reference to clover undertale yellow. and finally Jerry. just a horse, no thoughts head empty. completely chill. stands there as link gets mauled by a moblin

pre calamity zeldas horse was named Selig (and named for her rather than by her considering the compendium entry states that the royal family rode them to display their “divine right”, so its less likely itd be named for fun and more named to be Official and OoOo Goddess Powers, so i like to think a priest named them), but in secret she named them Lilium Woodriff Orientalis (the scientific name for stargazer lillies, Woodriff being the last name of the person who bred them. this is a reference to silent princesses and Blue Heart Lillies- blue heart lillies often being cited as a real world counterpart to silent princesses, however those lillies actually dont exist. theyre always a scam and are actually photoshop recolored stargazer lilly. in universe explanation is that its just a scientific flower name she liked a lot and she wanted to seem cool for knowing it. post calamity she’d call them stargazer even though the horse is long gone. maybe she’d name another horse that in memory?) and uses their full name always instead of a nickname. and because of this she eventually forgets selig as a name and everyone either thinks its a new horse or is cool with it. the priest is kind of exasperated but cant do anything about it. links pre calamity horse is named Epona because im a sucker for that sort of stuff, however is not The Epona (like from the amiibo or oot or tp etc). its more of a name he liked a lot especially because of the epona legends (and also in the memories his horse has a different mane/coat color from epona herself so. yeag). he too wanted to be seen as cool. he’d use her like how merchants use donkeys . light storage system

also fun fact!! the stable has a corporation of sorts!! 50 years before the calamity the Epona Co. was established (creating a champion page with stable info), and it has a logo and everything. said logo is on the hats of stable workers and also on the blankets covering crates. the stable association is under that corporation but seemingly a different thing, and also on the sanidin park ruins you can actually see the logo on the base of the statue, so they had a part in that as well!! i dunno i just think its so neat and im so sad we dont know anything about the park ruins besides being a spot to view the castle. i like to think its a memorial to a horse (whether it be someones pet horse, or a horse who did something historical (like laika or balto, though laika and balto are dogs not horses), and also im not making this an epona statue i. it feels weird to clarify that however with all the epona talk . yeah. also off topic but epona and ganons horse being plushes in majoras mask is so cool and i really want ganondorfs horse to have a name now. like why dont they have one…). alsoalso you probably know this but the top of stables (horse heads) have malanyas face, implying its an effigy of sorts. alsoalsoalso theres an unused compendium photo for epona.

theres also more horse variants (knight horses and festival horses) but. another time.

[evilwickedme]

Ooh, do you have any good Jason fic recs?

anon I cannot tell you how long I've been waiting to see those words!!!! yes I have good Jason fic recs in fact I have so many good Jason fic recs that after narrowing it down I still have fifteen links for you

I have read more fanfic for Jason Todd than maybe any other character ever. I do not understand the hold this man has on me but it's simply the situation we're in. anyway

Jason comes home fics

Make a Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is hands down my favorite. I'm talking favorite DC fic, top fics of all time period, not just from this list. I love this fic series. It is actively and regularly updating, thank fuck, because that little boost of serotonin is everything keeping me going I swear

The 70 Days After Groundhog Day is technically from Dick's POV, but it's about the aftermath of a timeloop that Jason was stuck in. it's. oh my god it's so good. just trust me on this one.

Emotional Motion Sickness is the "bruce goes to therapy" fic series we all want. canon get on this level

Retrograde Motion - I never used to like de-aging fics; not for any particular reason, I just never vibed with them. Recently I decided to see what all the fuss was about (bc there's so goddamn many in this fandom) and I'm glad, because I opened this fic and it's just. oh my god. the use of the de-aging trope here is truly incredible. after a whole week of dipping my feet into the trope I never need to do so again, because this fic made me fucking lose it. this is not going where you think it's going. also, for some reason there's not that much rebirth outlaws fic, and I really like what this author did with that team

matching wounds haha just gonna sneak my fic series on here and pretend that it was an accident, wait how did that get there (some jayroy later in the timeline too which can be read on its own if Jason coming home fics aren't for you)

other non-ship

Too Much Fucking Salt deals with the straw that broke the camel's back. I've read all 22k words of this in one sitting more than once. this is the anti "Jason Todd comes home" fic (this is in itself a whole genre of fic too honestly).

take his name out of your mouth (you don't deserve to mourn) is about Jason mourning himself, which he fucking deserves to. also he smokes a joint with Dick

Sown in Winter is about Jason pulling himself out of a depressive episode partially through the power of Stardew Valley. also technically jayroy, but it's honestly incidental to the story for the most part imo

JayRoy

I do read other ships for Jason but unabashedly this is my favorite, so

A Solid Resume - competency kink. that's all I have to say.

Tenderize is a series of oneshots all of which slowly build Jason and Roy's life together and coparenting lian and I just !!! could also double as a Jason coming home au but honestly that's mostly in the first fic. also a lot of discussion of various chain grocery stores in the united states that I will probably never actually step foot in

Dick Grayson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Two to Three Weeks (But Who's Counting) is so fucking funny I die every time I reread this. there's a scene early on in a coffee shop that just. I don't even know what to say everything about this is perfect. I AM the girl sticking her nose in their business, at least spiritually.

dust devils on the horizon isn't even the only western au I've bookmarked for these two. something about jayroy and horses, man

unity of time: april 27th, 2020 is just,,,, super sad, man, idk what to tell you. it's f!jayroy, but happens after Roy died in sanctuary during the 24h of Jason's death day, so all of it is very fucking depressing. It's also fucking beautiful. I want to reread it now.

Promise After That I'll Let You Go is a poisonivory fic. I was introduced to poisonivory through the daredevil fandom earlier this year and may I tell you when I found out that this author writes for jayroy I lost my goddamn mind. this is my personal favorite, but I almost recommended at least two more aus. Their jayroy sugar daddy au is one of the only sugar daddy aus I've ever truly enjoyed. also really like the one where roy has had feelings for dick since their teen titans days but still starts a fwb thing with Jason. poisonivory can make me into kinks I'm not even into I s2g. anyway this one has lian literally dragging roy back into jason's life

finally, Reciprocation (or: Sex as Violence) shouldn't even really count as a jayroy fic but I feel weird putting it in the other category since it is sort of a jayroy fic. it's ace-aro!jason, which is one of my personal favorite interpretations of Jason (with so much textual evidence wtf), but there's still like... a lot of sex in this. Jason does not have a healthy relationship with sex in this fic. I would describe this as ending in a QPP for jayroy and lian.

honestly there's a lot of good jason and roy and lian fic out there I didn't rec cause this is already long enough

so yeah this is my very VERY pared down fic rec list for Jason Todd let me know if you want more and thank you so much for asking

[ukelele-boy]

Heyo! I am honestly in awe of your art style it’s so good!! Do you have any advice on compsition/how to make your pieces more dynamic?

Hey Sunsketcher (love this name btw)! I love your art too, you inspired me so much. Honored to get an ask from you!

I will explain my own drawing process when it comes to composition and dynamicness, hopefully the wording is ok and it helps you.

Dynamicness:

1. Think of movement as a dance. A dance telling a story.

(What is the character experiencing? What is the mood of the piece? What kind of emotions are they feeling and what kind of poses convey those emotions?)

(Usually, dances have grace, strength and balance, unless you are purposely creating an effect of disharmony and disjointedness)

2. Line of motion. This is something that goes along with my above point. In animation, the characters are always doing something, and there is a specific line that goes through them, showing it. In the python art, you can see the two main lines (apollo and python's, curving towards each other, with a sub-line of Apollo punching contrasting that curve. The act of punching is disharmony so that's why it is crossed over the curves.

3. Considering anatomy at the beginning of drawing makes drawings stilted unless you truly feel like you can manipulate the anatomy like it's your own. Instead, try to imagine the movement and the "beat" like you experience in animations. Imagine your art as a still frame shot of an animation. Try to use your strokes to capture the essence of the movement and then later fill in the anatomy. In the messy sketch below, I disregarded anatomy and just was trying out as many different lines as possible to see which one expressed the beat and dance I had in my mind.

Another example are these horse sketches I did. The anatomy is completely wonky in some, but the essence of the horse can be represented in a few lines. This works for humans too.

In this art, I wanted to show how Apollo's wings were spreading on the ground, in a sort of grieving elegance. And the dead son in his arms is limp and has little balance or smooth lines, unlike Apollo. I did this to create a sense of disharmony between the always perfect Apollo and the mortality of the son. It helps accent them both. And then the scorch marks draw the eye to the duo.

4. Composition wise: think of the foreground, middle ground, background when creating your artwork. Use the foreground to immerse the viewer into the piece and direct their eye to the subjects. I used the rocks and part of python's body (blurry part on top left) to draw the viewer into the scene. This is similar to anime and movies, so if there are any shots or scenes that you felt were particularly well done, try to look for how they do the foreground, middleground and background and put that into your art.

5. Use color as an additional layer of contrast. Bright colors draw the eye and are able to highlight important subjects (characters, objects etc.)

6. If you start to draw and have no idea how to pose the character, I recommend looking at some dynamic fight scenes in manga, anime and art. I also love these two posts in particular as I find them really good sources of inspiration: 

Battle scene composition:

https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/838091811920322288/

Sword fighting composition: 

https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/95842298307452250/

(The author,  EtheringtonBrothers, is on tumblr but because they have like 1828248 art tip posts I cannot link it for you as I can’t even find it XD)

Anyways, thank you for reading, feel free to ask more questions if you need clarification. 

Extra: Another art where I did a quick analysis to show you my thoughts

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!!  As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

-

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

-

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

[mackeydoodledoo]

A Real Hero

Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Daughter of Ares)Reader

Summary: You were lost. You needed to fend for yourself. You were the runt of Ares’ kids. Yes, the god of war himself had told you that you were the runt of the pack, making you fall behind everyone else. However, meeting a certain red-head has you making other plans.

Warnings: Fighting, Small amount of Blood, Supposed Death

A/n: So, I’m Poseidon’s kid... But, I may or may not have a idea for a daughter of Poseidon to be paired with one of the other two daughters. 

“Supermassive Black Hole” - Muse [Play this when Joan splits off with Daniela to go hunting]

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

You had nowhere to go. You were shunned out by your brothers and sisters. Even your own father. You were the runt of the children of Ares. Meaning, you were the weakest link. Your own father had dropped you off at the same very forest. Haven’t heard from him, your mother or your siblings since.

Come on Joan... You got this...

You were exhausted. The glistening sweat rolled off your now toned arms as you were practicing your sword play skills. The tree however, wasn't so lucky. All of its peeled bark, all of its scars. Came from you. It looked like it was on the brink of death.

“Not so tough now are you?” You try to stupidly intimidate the nearly dead tree

God you sound stupid right now...

You take one heavy slash to the tree; it begins tumbling down. However, just as you about to chop it further, you hear a scream. Panic sets in as you immediately grab hold of the tree stump. You initially struggle to keep the other end of the tree’s weight. However, You shove it to the side, groaning in pain, clutching at your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” You ask, running over to the woman who screamed

Just barely grazing her shoulder with your finger, you wince in pain.

“Am I okay?!” She asks, turning to look at you, “Are you okay?! You’re the one who- oh my god...”

The other woman was in shock, but also intrigued. 

She looks down at your finger; blood... But, it wasn’t the crimson shade kind of blood. What was seeping out of your finger was a thick and Silver colored.

“How is your blood like that?” She asks, observing your finger like a gentle specimen

“It’s always been like this,” You chuckle

“Does it actually taste like blood?!” She asks

You look at her; her eyes dilated with curiosity. You look down at your feet, trying to come up with the best answer for her.

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask her, “I’ve never been one to taste my own blood.”

“Then let me be the first one,” She says, her tone dropping to a low, seductive tone

“Hey! What are you-” You protest

But it was too late. The tip of her tongue had ran right over the small prick in your finger. Your eyes widen as she begins gagging.

“Oh that was vile!” She wretches

“I tried warning you to not do that,” You chuckle, “But, did you listen?”

She punches your shoulder as she continues to gag out the contents of your blood.

“But for real though, how did you do that?” She asks

“Do.. What?” You ask her

“The... The.. You picked up a whole damn tree!” She exclaims, “No mortal could do that!” 

“That’s because I’m.. Not fully mortal...” Your voice trails off

“You’re... Not?” She asks, her eyes widening once more

“Demigod.. To be precise..” You begin explaining, “It’s when an immortal falls in love with a mortal... And they have kids... Kids like me.”

The woman doesn’t answer you...

Great... She’s freaked out...

“So... Let me get this straight... You’re... Half immortal?” She asks

Girl’s clueless...

“Technically.. Yes,” You answer her

“Wait until mother and my sisters hear when I bring you home,” She wickedly smiles

Wait.. What?...

When you opened your eyes you no longer found yourself basking in the sunshine.

“Just check her blood! She really is half immortal!” The familiar voice 

“Daniela, quit your games,” Another feminine voice calls to the sole familiar voice

“What is the meaning of this?” An older, robust yet soothing feminine voice walks in

“Daniela claims that she’s found a half immortal,” Another feminine voice says, but more hungrier than the other three

“But mother it’s true!” Daniela claims, “Look at her blood!” 

“Enough... Daniela,” The older woman sighs

By the time the arguing had died down, your fingers held your temples as you groaned in pain.

“Half-immortal,” The older woman calls to you

“Ow... What?” You look up

You had to adjust your neck in a slightly uncomfortable position as you stare straight up into the most giantess woman you have ever encountered.

“Tell me child...” She starts, “What is your name?”

“Joan...” You answer, “Joan Arc...”

“Are you truly half immortal?” She asks

“I am...” You say without a second thought

“Then prove it,” The blonde demands

“Now now Bela,” The older woman calms her blonde daughter, “But that you shall do for us.”

“What happens if I refuse?” You ask, standing on your two feet

“We’ll feed your scraps to the pigs,” The brunette growls 

“Cassandra enough!” Daniela demands, grabbing her sisters’ wrist

Cassandra turns to the red head and begins growling at her like a primal animal. You were about to step in before you see the older woman beginning to raise her hand.

“Cassandra... Daniela,” She sighs, “On this evening’s hunt she will accompany the three of you. Cassandra...”

The brunette straightens herself out when the woman called her name. 

“Do show her the armory for this evening,” She gently commands

“Of course mother,” She answers, “Half and half.”

Cassandra turns to you.

Great... A nickname already...

“You coming or not?” She asks

You walk towards her as you felt claw-like fingernails dig into your skin as you are bragged out of what looked to be the bedchambers. You catch a glimpse of Daniela; the woman you had saved from earlier in the day. You give her a small smile before Cassandra rounds the corner, knocking you into the doorframe.

“Come on,” Cassandra growls

“So... Half and half,” Cassandra teases at your nickname, taking a gaze at the weapons in the armory room

“It’s Joan,” You correct her coldly

“What brought you to our castle grounds anyway?” She asks, completely ignoring your correction

“Actually your sister... Daniela brought me here against my will so...” You joke, but also tell the truth

“She doesn’t know when to stop bringing toys into the castle,” Cassandra sighs

Toys?... Is she for real?...

“I was cast off, unwanted by my own father,” You explain, “I was the weakest of his kids... All of my siblings had their backs turned to me when I was casted out of the cabin...”

“That’s rough...” Cassandra sighs

You weren’t sure if Cassandra was continuing to mock you or she actually felt bad about your situation.

“Anyway though, I’m kind of happy that I’m out of there,” You add, “My siblings were a bunch of assholes anyway.”

“I could say the same for my sisters... We’re always trying to out-best each other to please mother... It’s getting tiring honestly.” She sighs

“Then don’t do it to please your mother,” You say, grabbing a sword off of the weapons rack, “Do it so it makes you happy.”

With your back turned to Cassandra, you begin putting your hair up to a ponytail.

“What’s that?” She asks

“What’s what?” You ask

“The thing on the back of your neck,” Cassandra helps, “What is it?”

My birthmark... Well, just a mark...

“The Mark of Ares,” You answer, “All the children of Ares have this specific mark.”

[A/n: Not much but I tried lol]

You nod, “Not the glamorous life as a god though.”

“So you really are half and half huh?” Cassandra continues asking

After grabbing a couple of armor plates, you arm yourself with a sword and a spear. You follow Cassandra back to the main hall where the other three women were waiting for the both of you. 

“All set?” The tall woman asks

“Yes mother,” Cassandra says

You simply nod as you follow them out to what looked like horse stables. However, you only see enough for the four of them.

Great... Will I have to be the one running on foot?

“Joan,” Daniela calls, horse already galloped in front of you

She simply holds out her hand for you to grab. You let out a smile as you take her hand. You were astonished by the amount of strength Daniela had when she pulled you up onto the back of her horse. 

“Strong,” You smile, resting your palms on her curved hipline

“You better hold on tight,” Daniela flirts

As soon as the stable doors opened fully, Daniela slams the reigns on her horse and the horse bolts past the other three. You let out a startled yelp as Daniela’s horse bursts out of the stables and out into the familiar warmth. You hold onto Daniela for dear life; your head against the back of her neck as you hear her giggling.

“The half immortal is scared of a horse ride?” Daniela teases you

“Caught me off guard is all,” You gently chuckle

Daniela continues to giggle as you ease your grip on her slightly. You look over your shoulder and see the other three horses following behind, slowly gaining to where you and Daniela were. You looked along the tree line to see the sunset beginning to dwindle down below the horizon.

“Why hunt at night?” You ask

“It’s too stuffy during the day,” Daniela explains to you, “It’s tolerable... For a certain amount of time.”

You stop at a river that was relatively near the castle for the horses to rest and hydrate as the four of you begin to tread through the woods to go hunting. 

“Why don’t the both of you go hunt on your own, go teach Daniela some hunting techniques would you?” Bela suggests

“Hey!” Daniela yelps, “I can hunt well on my own thank you very much.”

“I’d certainly could ask Artemis to give Daniela some hunting lessons but who the hell knows where she is,” You explain, “Come on Dani.”

Daniela takes you by the wrist and yanks you close to her as the both of you begin walking along the forest trees in hopes to get any kills before dawn arrives.

“Have you.. Actually hunted before?” Daniela asks

“After months of fending for my own,” You say, “Mostly spear-fishing... Spear is normally my main weapon but if I want to go more rough n tough, a sword.”

“Shouldn’t the half immortals be expertise in various weapons?” Daniela teases you

“A lot of Demigods would have their specified weapons,” You say, “Watch and learn baby.”

You roll up your pant legs and your sleeves. You strip off your shoes and slowly begin stepping into the ice-cold riverbank. further to your right was a giant waterfall. You could hear the loud running water go over the edge of the drop.

“If I only had Night vision,” You sigh 

“On your right,” Daniela calls out to you

You immediately spear to your right. Once you had lifted the spear, you had sworn the spear had gained more top end weight.

“How did you?...” You turn to Daniela

“I mostly go hunting at night,” Daniela smiles, “So my eyesight works best during the night.”

“That’s good to have,” You smile

You and Daniela continue spear-fishing as the night progresses through. 

“Have you caught a bear before?” Daniela asks

“No,” You say

“Why don’t we go and catch one?” Daniela suggests

“Well, how would you do it Daniela?” You ask her

“Why are you asking me?” Daniela asks

“Because one, you’re the one suggesting it and two, why don’t you lead a hunt for once,” You smile

Daniela looks at you as you emerge from the riverbank and begin making a makeshift basket to place all of the fish in. 

“You sure know how to craft,” Daniela just simply watches you make

“A lot of things were learned while living on my own out here,” You smile as you look up at her

You stop weaving the basket when Daniela is just kneeling in front of you. 

“You okay Daniela?” You ask her, clearing your throat

“I’m okay,” She answers, inching her way closer to you, “You?”

“I’m fine,” You answer, a bubble caught in your throat, “What-what are you doing right now?” 

“I... Like you..” Daniela says

“Daniela!” You yell

You coil an arm around her waist line as you try to get up but you tumble forward. You look up and see a bear letting out a roar. With your spear crushed under the bears’ foot, you draw your sword and begin swinging, in hopes of it being scared and runs off. However, you stop once it began growling. 

“Joan!” Daniela yells

You felt your body land onto the ground as the sword is knocked from your grip. You immediately prop yourself on your elbows and turn your head.

“Daniela!” You yell to her

Like Hell I’m about to lose her....

Your legs suddenly spring upward, pivoting as fast as they could. You break into a run as the bear begins to stand on its hind legs. You didn’t even think to take your weapon back into your hand as you use your body to slam yourself into the bear.

“Hey!” You call to Daniela

She looks at you.

“I... Like you too,” You smile

“Joan... Joan!!” Daniela screams

As quick as Daniela could, she scampers up to her feet and dives after you, only to come a hare too late. You and the bear had plummeted towards the sharp-rocked bottom of the waterfall.

“JOAN!!!!” Daniela banshee screams as she watches you both and the bear disappear into the misty waters below

“Daniela?!” Alcina calls out

Alcina, Cassandra and Bela emerge from the tree line, beelining it to her. Alcina pulls her youngest daughter into her arms as Daniela lets out wailing sobs.

“We were trying to hunt a bear and- and- I almost got killed but-” Daniela chokes on her sobs, “Joan went over the edge protecting me.. With- with the bear...” 

“I’m sorry my daughter,” Alcina sighs, “The hunt is over. Back to the castle. Now.”

“But-But Joan is still down there!” Daniela begs her mother

“No one survives that drop,” Alcina states, “Not even a half immortal like Joan. We have to go now.”

Daniela doesn’t argue with her mother. She follows her mother and sisters back to their horses to take back to the castle stables. 

I’m sorry Joan...

Night was slowly dissipating as Daniela lay across her bed, crying to herself. She didn’t care about how bad she smelled from the outside world. She was upset at herself for not catching you in time just before you plummeted to your death.

“Daniela?” Bela calls out

“What Bela?...” Daniela wipes away her tears 

“Someone’s in the main hall with Cassandra,” Bela says, less enthusiastic

Daniela dissipates into flies as well as Bela. Daniela follows her sister and as soon as Bela busts the doors open, Daniela felt her heart throb.

“Joan?...” Daniela calls out, materializing into her human form

“Finally,” Cassandra sighs as she pushes your batters and bloodied body towards Daniela

Daniela catches your almost limp body. But, you manage with all of your strength you had left, you wrap your arms around Daniela's neck as she struggles to keep you on your feet.

"I thought you were..." Daniela says

"Dead?" You finish her sentence

Daniela takes you to her bedchambers and begins stripping away whatever was left of the armor and your ripped clothing.

"Ow..." You groan

"Do you... Remember what happened after you plummeted down the waterfall?" Daniela asks

"Well, what I do remember is that the bear wasn't anywhere to be found by the time I had come to. I was bleeding a lot. But, obviously being a Demigod, my slow regeneration process began. But. Took me forever though. Everything still hurts like hell..." You sigh

You lowly gasp as you felt Daniela's long, cold fingers caress your body as she applies the bandages.

"I'm sorry," She whimpers

"It's okay. You're just really cold..." You sigh, smiling

You could feel Daniela's eyes on you as she moved directly behind you. You could feel the tension between the both of you.

"I meant what I said too," You say

You feel her fingers begin coiling around your ribcage and her head resting on your shoulder.

"I know," She whispers into your ear

You sweep your arm underneath Daniela and pull her into your lap.

"Joan!..." Daniela gasps

It doesn't take Daniela long to settle herself in your lap as her wicked smile sweeps across her face.

"Awwww you're blushing," Daniela coos

"Shut up..." You growl playfully

"Well then maybe you should make me," She smirks, her wicked giggle coming out

[A/n: Here is a character board for Joan Arc]

[blinder-secrets]

False Employment

tommy shelby x maid!reader, 5,900 words

warnings: power play, dominance, nsfw

ao3 link

a/n: this is essentially the second piece in a maid series i’ve accidentally started, read michael’s here <3

When you were eight, you’d told your mother that you were going to be a dancer. Then a dressmaker, a poet, a horse-groomer. As a teen, you’d decided that you’d be a wife, just a wife, who’d raise the kids while your husband was away making fortunes, no doubt. Your mother had been happy enough with that idea, but it had soured on you. After all, you thought, why spend your time looking after others and not yourself?

In the end, though, you’d found work as a maid. A house-servant in black and white, cursed to parole the hallways of an estate that’d never feel homely, or private. The irony of it was not lost on you. Employed to look after people that weren’t even yours to look after, half the reasoning but triple the pay. At least this way, the work you did was profitable, and the money you made was saved in your own name. The catch, however, was that you hated it. And you hated it because you were frustratingly terrible at it. No matter how many times Frances taught you to fold the sheets, you got it wrong. Somehow. No matter how carefully you swept, or cleaned, or shined the child’s shoes, you missed a spot. You always missed a fucking spot. It’s like you were cursed, destined to be the worst possible maid in the Midlands, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The strangest part, of course, was that you hadn’t been fired yet. You’d hardly even been chastised. The most unbecoming maid in the history of housekeeping, and you still had your job. You were still paid more than the industry standard. Despite all you knew about him, it seemed Mr. Shelby, unlike most employers, was endlessly forgiving of his staff; it was only when you started to question why, that you realised that wasn’t entirely the case.

On the Friday, you’d been called to bring tea to the front sitting-room. You’d say it’s one of your least favourite tasks but, honestly, they all sit equally on the list of things that you hate to do. The dishes always clatter on the tray, rattling wildly as you take the stairs from the kitchen. The china is scolding to touch each time you go to pour it. The spout is short, the saucers fragile and ill-fitting. Really, there’s a lot less grace in serving tea, than there is in drinking it, and that day was no different.

‘Your tea, Mr. Shelby,’ you announced, once you’d wobbled through the doorway. The milk had spilt onto the metal, but the cups and teapot had stayed strong, thank God. ‘Where would you like it?’

He wasn’t alone, the aunt and his cousin were waiting with him, but only your cold-faced boss had acknowledged the arrival. He was stood by the window, picking a cigarette from his case, and had paused to give instruction that no-one else would offer. His gaze flicked to you briefly, then over to the low coffee table in the centre. ‘There.’

You obliged with a nod, before crossing the room to set the tray and its precarious contents down. ‘Should I pour you some, sir?’ you asked the cousin, hoping he’d say no, hoping he’d let you return to some other, more menial job. One that at least let you work without an audience. Instead, he nodded, and leant forward to hold one of the tea-cups up. Why he couldn’t just leave it there, on the flat surface, where no spills could do any damage, you didn’t know. He probably thought he was being helpful; tragically, he failed to take into account that you were the clumsiest tea-maid in the house.

The handle stung, as expected, the moment you took hold of it, but you were interrupted before you could even begin to pour.

‘Shouldn’t milk go first?’ he asked, continuing once you looked at him like he was wild. ‘In china, to stop it from cracking?’

‘Oh.’ You stuttered, straightening from your bend with the burning teapot in your hand still. ‘Of course,’ you answered. Of course there was some rule you had forgotten, some high-class superstition about breaking the bone china they could replace so easily. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you smiled, and set the tea down again. ‘Sorry, sir.’

When his cup was filled with an inch of the obviously critically important milk, you tried again to pour his tea. The aunt and Mr. Shelby were talking around you, but you were so focused on the act that their words fell away into rubble, just birds chattering between the trees. You lifted the pot again and poured as steadily as your arm would allow.

From the sudden hiss of breath between his teeth, it hadn’t been steady at all. You’d poured scolding tea onto the rim, the saucer, and finally, unfortunately, onto the pinstripe-stretch of his knee.

‘Fuck,’ you burst, ‘sorry.’ The pot went back to the tray quickly, your hands into the pocket of your apron. You hadn’t realised you’d sworn until it was too late to correct it. Another X against your name, surely. ‘Forgive me,’ you told him, pulling a cloth free to offer it, ‘it’s clean.’ At least, for your sake, you’d remembered that dabbing the stain yourself would be inexcusable.

He took it, sighing, and his mother rolled her eyes so plainly that you couldn’t have ignored it if you tried. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, though his scowl didn’t agree. ‘That’s enough anyway.’

You nodded, leaving him to pat awkwardly at the stain, balancing the cup and saucer in his free hand. What Mr. Shelby thought of the ordeal, you didn’t know. He was behind you, quiet, and impossible to see without turning entirely. The embarrassed heat that lingered in your ears was enough to keep you from trying. The last thing you needed, was another unimpressed look sent your way; you got enough of them from Frances.

When you shifted to face the aunt, she spoke before you could, insisting, ‘I can pour my own.’

You smiled before she’d even finished. ‘Course, ma’am,’ you offered with a shallow curtsey. Anything to get out sooner was welcome, even if it was a dig at your serving expertise.

Straightening fully, you smoothed the back of your dress and spun, facing the windows and the silhouette before them. ‘Will that be all, sir?’ you asked as you met his gaze —which had already been there, waiting. Taking account. He’d been watching you fuck up, yet again, probably wondering how you got the job in the first place. You chewed your lip as he deliberated.  

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, speaking through the cloud of his cigarette, ‘that’ll be all.’

Why you got off so lightly, made no fucking sense, but you weren’t about to stand there and argue with him. Instead, you dipped your knees again and left. It had felt like he’d watched you until you’d gone out of sight, through the doorway, but that was more likely to be a symptom of your over-thinking. Just jumping to paranoid conclusions like you always did, assuming his eyes had clung to your back until the door had shut them away.

By the next week, you were starting to think you weren’t paranoid at all.

Frances had caught you in the hallway between your room and her own, just as you were heading down for something to eat. ‘Mr. Shelby will be home soon,’ she said, stopping in front of you with a sure knot between her brows.

You watched her undo the tie of her pinafore. ‘Okay?’

‘He’ll need his coat taking, and offer him a drink, not supper.’

You balked. Why was she telling you this? ‘Isn’t that your job?’ you asked, feeling dread settle into your stomach. She was top of the hierarchy, the one he trusted most, you were a scullery maid at best. It’d make more sense for his boy to greet him, over you.

She sighed like you were at fault, and folded the pinafore over her arm. ‘He’s asked for you.’

‘He has?’

‘And don’t speak more than you should,’ she continued, ignoring your obvious alarm. ‘Just, just do as I would.’

But you didn’t know what she did. You never paid attention to what she did. ‘Do you think he wants to speak to me?’ you asked, following as she started towards her room. ‘Am I in trouble?’ Was it finally the chopping block for you?

She turned sharply, causing you to stumble to a halt. ‘I think,’ she stressed, ‘that he wants his coat taking.’ Then her door opened and she shut herself inside, leaving you to stand aimlessly in the hallway.

With little else to do, you made your way downstairs to wait within hearing distance of the front door. It didn’t take Mr. Shelby long to require your services, but it did take just long enough for you to think yourself into a panic. No, not a panic, it was more of a steady confidence. A certainty that he had asked for you, specifically, so that he could tell you to work harder. Better. So that he could get you alone, and threaten a cut to your wages if you didn’t stop pouring tea onto his guest’s laps. It was the only plausible reasoning you could settle on.

When he stepped into the entry-way, your heart was beating hard enough to trick your mind into labelling it as excitement. A twisted bout of adrenaline at the thought of being fired. You’d have laughed if you weren’t trying so hard to be professional, instead, you kept your face serious. ‘Good evening, Mr. Shelby,’ you started, moving from your post to meet him. ‘Can I take your coat?’

You thought you saw his lip twitch upwards, but it was redirected into a short nod. ‘Frances changed the rota,’ he said, though it was obvious. He turned, showing you his back, and you pulled the collar from his shoulders before you could overthink the motion.

‘She did, sir,’ you agreed. Don’t talk too much. Don’t talk too much. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’ you asked, unable to stop once you’d noticed the close shave at the back of his head.

He faced you again, letting the coat peel from his arms until he was separate, and you were left to wrangle the heavy fabric alone. To no surprise, he didn’t answer your question. He didn’t even remove his cap. Instead, he stared, squinting slightly, then held the briefcase out for you to take.

You were running out of hands to be useful with. The folded coat was thick enough to render one arm useless, and now his case occupied the other. ‘Would you like something to eat, sir?’

‘No,’ he answered, too quick to have really considered it. Then he looked down, eyes on the leather gloves he was removing, and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘[Y/n], sir.’

He repeated it once. Rolled it over his tongue and out again like he was testing for its flavour. Analysing its worth, though he had surely heard it a hundred times before.

Your adrenaline had finally been replaced by fragile nerves. The silence felt like an open invite for critique, and you’d rather have it filled with the forbidden small talk than let it begin. ‘Would you like me to fetch Char—‘

‘Have you lit the fire in my office?’ he asked blankly, interrupting you as he lifted his eyes to yours. The blue alone was enough to quiet you. His stare was more intimidating than luxurious; if he had been watching you as you thought he had, you weren’t sure that was a good thing anymore.

‘No,’ you stammered. ‘Should I have?’ It was dark already, but you hadn’t noticed the cold yourself. ‘Should I do it now, Mr. Shelby?’ you corrected, playing catch up on your responsibilities. ‘I’ll put these down.’

He shook his head and put the gloves, together, on top of his coat. Piled it all on you like you were a walking hat-stand. ‘Make sure you have next time,’ he said. ‘It’s winter.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’

It didn’t look like the apology meant anything to him, probably because you had rushed it out nervously, rather than sincerely. You didn’t often know what you were apologising for after all, just that you should be, and that you were normally at fault in the first place. So you said sorry quickly, before he could leave. And then, once he had done, turning from you after a final clinging-look, you said sorry again into the absent space he had left behind. Sorry, Mr. Shelby, don’t fire me, Mr. Shelby. I know I’m a terrible fucking servant, Mr. Shelby. He didn’t look back, nor did he ask for you again that evening. From your perspective, that was a win. It meant he hadn’t planned to stage an intervention, or to tell you off like a scorned school master. He had simply wanted you to do your job, well, Frances’ job, and somehow, you hadn’t massively disappointed. A few mis-placed questions hadn’t caused your downfall, and you found yourself hanging his coat with an easy smile. Perhaps you were valuable to him then, or at least acceptable. Perhaps you were employed for a reason.

When he next went away, you made sure to light the fire before he returned. Clever, you thought, well remembered indeed. What you failed to do, however, was time it well enough that it would be lit, burning strong and heating the room, before you had to meet him at the door. You were still knelt by the hearth when he arrived.

He cleared his throat once, from the doorway, and the noise was loud enough to startle you over the snaps of the fire. You sprang from the floor in one panicked burst of energy, turning in almost the same motion, moving faster than you felt you ever had.

‘Oh, Mr. Shelby,’ you panted. ‘Sorry, sorry, I was just finishing the fire.’

He was fully dressed still. Obviously, because you hadn’t been there to pull the outer layers from him as you should have. It wasn’t even a difficult task and you’d seemingly failed on your second try.

‘Have you been there long?’ you asked, hoping that if you kept him talking, and kept his eyes on yours, he would fail to notice the ash on your knees. The grey powdering of your tights and the hem of your dress, dirtied from kneeling too close to the bricks. It could be brushed away easily, but you hardly wanted more attention drawn to it. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He shrugged, not bothering with a real answer. The nonchalance made you nervous. He could’ve been standing there for seconds, or he could’ve been there for minutes, watching you bent in half, folded in front of the fire as you worked. Whether someone could even be judged on their fire-making skills, you didn’t know. But he seemed the type to be able to judge anyone for anything.

‘Sorry, I should take your coat,’ you started, crossing the room with your hands out.

‘It’s alright.’ He walked past you before you could even reach him, moulding into the study like he was a part of it. ‘I have to go out again, anyway.’

You nodded. He didn’t offer any other instruction, so you just stood there, dirty like a chimney-sweep, gormless like a fucking goose in the river. ‘Should I go, sir?’ you asked.

His case went on top of the desk, his body dropped into the seat behind it. He didn’t look at you, or answer you, he just pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it. You watched him inhale and exhale once before growing tired.

‘There are things I should be doing, sir,’ you said, hoping to sound more apologetic than rude. In truth, you were just bored. Uncomfortable. You couldn’t stop thinking about the ash on your knees.

It definitely wasn’t paranoia that time. His eyes finally found you, in the middle of the room, and drank you in like you were one of his racehorses. The flashy ones that he bought for the sake of money and money alone. You fidgeted under the weight of them, knowing the crystal irises were skimming every part of you that should’ve been ignored. Especially for a maid, for one of his house-servants. Your body should’ve been nothing beneath the rigidity of your uniform, and yet he scooped it out from between the seams, looked at the curves that you were sure had been hidden.

‘Do you live at the house,’ he started, voice low and catching, ‘or at home?’

‘The house, sir.’ You threaded your fingers together, kept them clutched over your pinafore. ‘I share the room next to Frances.’

The smoke pooled from his lips again, trailing after him as he leant back into his seat. He was looking at you down his nose, through his lashes, holding the silence just long enough for it become taut. Sharp enough to make your cheeks warm.

‘And when she hears the bell at night, do you hear it too?’

You frowned, but nodded. The service bells were mounted on the wall between the doors.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘next time it goes, I want you to see to it.’

His gaze was unmoving. Yours had been charmed into the same fate, unable to pull away from him. ‘Sir?’ you said, understanding his meaning, but not believing it in the slightest. There was no innocent reason for him to switch orders like that. The older woman had always covered the night work, as infrequent as it was.

He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes in one quick pulse of intent. ‘Let Frances have her rest, eh?’

It was either a promotion, or a proposition. You had neither the gall or the desire to ask which. ‘Of course, Mr. Shelby.’

After that, your encounters with him had remained short and indifferent. You took his coat, brought him tea, whiskey, followed orders when he gave them. You’d watched him, watching you, every time, and thought nothing more of it. Or at least tried not to. You never saw him interact with other staff, so you couldn’t dispel the idea that he treated you any different from them; he could’ve held all of his employees under the same searing gaze and you wouldn’t have known. Frances had commented on his favouring of you, claiming ‘he’d ask for you over anyone else’, but she had seemed relieved all the same. She liked her work, but she liked free time just as much. His request to switch you to the night-calls, however, had been a dormant one, an almost pointless one, because he’d never rang. Never asked anything of you once he’d taken supper.

At least, he hadn’t before now, right now. This very moment. You’d been dragged from your sleep by the dull clanging of the service bell, and now you’re hot-footing down the stairs with your pinafore barely fastened. What the allowed time for dressing is, you have no idea. You’re trying to rush, but there’s no way of knowing how long it has been, or how presentable you are. The only comfort is that he’s yet to ring the bell again, so you obviously haven’t been long enough to make him impatient.

The door to his study is shut, but there’s nowhere else he’d be, so you knock once you’re stood in front of it. You hear him cough from the other side, before saying, ‘Come in.’

Right then. Here you go. You take a few steps into the room, just enough to be present, but not intrusive, and force a quiet breath before speaking. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ you ask, starting as he shows no sign of doing it on your behalf. He hasn’t even looked up to acknowledge you.

He’s leaning on the end of his desk, staring into the embers of the once lit fire, with a half-filled tumbler in his hand. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled and shoved to sit above the elbow. If it weren’t for the waistcoat, still fastened and adorned with the chain of his pocket-watch, he’d look almost scruffy. Off-guard. ‘So,’ he says, ‘you heard the bell, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t mind the disturbance?’

‘No.’ Though, if he’d brought you down just to test the mechanism, you would hardly be happy about it. ‘Is that all, sir?’

He snorts, following it with a sip of whiskey. The motion causes the gold band around his bicep to catch in the lamplight, glinting at you. A lighthouse through the dark. ‘You don’t get bored of saying sir?’ he asks, finally flicking his eyes in your direction. ‘You say it more than the others.’

Your brows sink together, frowning before you can help it. You weren’t aware there was any other thing to call him, or that sir had a quota, one that you were seemingly well over. ‘Am I wrong to address you as that, Mr. Shelby?’

Quietly, he stands from his lean and tips his head back to finish the final portion of his drink. You watch his neck against the light, follow the whiskey as it travels down his throat. Once it’s empty, he turns to face you with his arm limp by his side, glass dangling in his palm. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head half-way, ‘call me what you like.’

You catch a whim in the dim-setting, a spark of courage from the fireplace. It’s like the quiet of the house, the certainty of your solitude together, is daring you to test the bounds of your employee-boss relationship. His lingering pause gives the same effect, his blank stare waits to be challenged.

‘Not Tommy, though, sir?’ you ask, wanting to smirk with it, but missing the moment. Or rather, losing the courage as soon as the name’s left your lips.

His chin lifts a fraction. ‘No, not that.’

Tommy is too personal, too close to him. The faint hope you had, that he’d allow you to say it, is squashed into the rug beneath his feet. Without asking, he holds the glass up, arm straight and pointed toward you. You understand his meaning well enough and cross the room to take it from him.

‘Do you often wake a maid, just to pour your whiskey?’ you ask from beside the drinks cabinet. The decanter is there, ready, un-topped and waiting. You fill his glass a quarter, and then a quarter more after a pause of consideration. It doesn’t seem like an evening for single measures.

He doesn’t answer until you’re back in front of him. ‘No,’ he admits shamelessly, leaving you yet another silence to fill.

‘Just me then, sir?’

He nods. ‘Yep, just you.’

He takes the glass and lifts it for a drink. By the time he’s swallowed, and set it down again, you’re two steps back, waiting in the middle of the rug. Anxious for the next order. You’d hoped that the late hour would’ve made him more accessible, more willing to drop the formalities and pretence of your relationship. Instead, it’s made you all the more aware of them. All the more sensitive to the ladder of power between the two of you, and the way he manoeuvres it. He seems so easy, so comfortable, unapologetic of his status and the benefits that it gives him. He can walk the line without risk of misstepping, because he’s the one who sets it.

‘Do you like your job, [y/n]?’ he asks, sounding as if he knows the answer already.

You chew the reply over in your head. As lucky as you’ve been so far, the outright truth might finally throw you into the cold. ‘I like the company,’ you answer, ‘the people.’

He pushes a laugh through his nose, amused but barely smiling still. ‘Didn’t ask you that.’

No, but you won’t lie to him. ‘I’m terrible at my job, sir,’ you say. He surely knows that as well as you do, maybe that’s the reason for him calling on you. It’s time for the meeting you’ve been dreading. The conversation was here at last. ‘In all honesty,’ you tell him, ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept me on.’

Sighing, he half-sits on the desk again, arms folding across his chest. ‘You think you’re that bad?’

‘Awful, sir.’ The added responsibilities have done nothing to improve your prowess. His extra requests have just given you more things to misplace, more damages to cause. ‘Why have you never said anything?’ you ask, adding a ‘sir’ at the raise of his brow. ‘Most people would’ve docked my wages by now.’

He blinks once. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’

The heat it sends up your neck is scorching, embarrassing. For a moment, you forget that he could mean it plainly, that he could speak as an employer and an employer alone. If he had any other expression, you’d be able to validate that, but he’s stoney as ever, waiting for a response like he’d simply asked for the time. ‘No, sir,’ you manage. ‘I just wondered why.’

He takes a sip before answering, hissing the whiskey between the set of his teeth. ‘You know why,’ he says, watching his hands for once, giving you respite from his stare. ‘You look at me just the same.’

‘I do?’

You don’t know why you’re asking, because you’re already in agreement. The self-indulgent glances you’ve taken of him were for the exact same reason you had hoped he looked at you. It wasn’t judgement, but hunger. You had thought it silly to imagine he felt that way too. Maybe men were men after all, easy to read regardless of status, free to want as they liked, but not without the worry of consequence.

‘I don’t want to misunderstand you, Mr. Shelby,’ you say carefully, speaking slow enough to set your thoughts straight. ‘Why do you employ me still?’

You’d expected bravado in reply, but his eyes are on the glass and his voice is taut. ‘I can’t,’ he states. He knows the reasons as well as you do. The chains that bind him, the ones that keep both of your roles in place. There are rules in this house, things that can’t be changed for desire’s sake and he’s counting on you to respect them; the sheer fact that you’re here, alone with him in the middle of the night, proves that his willpower is faltering. He expects you to make up for what he lacks.

The irony, of course, is that you’ve never been any good at meeting expectations. You feel your heartbeat in your skull, right behind your ears, as you take a step forward. ‘Can’t say,’ you challenge, ‘or can’t act on it?’

Another step and you’re an arm’s length away from him.

He puts the glass down and faces you steadily, like he’s flicked the switch back into place, like he’s got cold, iced water in his veins again. ‘You’ll tempt me in my own house, eh?’ he chides, pushing it through a smirk. ‘So quick to be a whore.’

‘I’m not a whore,’ you answer, ‘I’m a maid.’ You chance it and put a hand to his waistcoat, pinching the edge of it between your fingers. He doesn’t stop you. You’re invincible then, you could do anything in the world, and he still wouldn’t think it reason enough to fire you. ‘You don’t seem like a man to ignore his wants, Mr. Shelby.’ Indulge while you can, taste what you’ve been thinking about for so long. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help,’ you purr, ‘then it’s surely my job to do it.’

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he’s ran out of words. Maybe they’d just take him further from what it is that he wants. Now that you both know it, there’s no reason to discuss. You may be terrible at housework, but men have never been a challenge, you could never fail at something you enjoyed so thoroughly.

Standing, he takes you by the wrist and pulls your fingers free of the waistcoat. He holds your hand in front of your face like you’re a caught criminal. ‘Go back to bed,’ he says, bluntly enough that you almost turn and run. But you were so close to the impossible, so close to tipping over the line, that adrenaline catches you instead.

‘Why?’ Your brows pinch, your manners forget themselves in the disappointment. ‘You suddenly have morals?’ you ask, teetering on laughter. ‘Shame?’ He could kill a man, but fucking his maid is where his ethics hardened. Where they steeled to a stop.  

His jaw sets. For someone so familiar with staff, and giving orders, he’s struggling to put you in your place. You know it’s coming though, you can see the threat behind his eyes.

‘Are you scared, Tommy?’ you taunt. ‘Worried we’ll be found out?’

It was a risk, but it paid off, and he switches the play so easily into his favour, that the wind is knocked out of you before you can piece together what’s happened. He’d pulled you forward, then past him, so that your thighs are against the edge of the desk and his chest is pressed along the length of your back. His arms are either side of you, palms flat on the wooden top. ‘Is that how you want it?’ he bites, putting the question to your neck. Down the collar of your uniform. ‘Ay? Against the boss’s desk?’

‘If that’s what suits you.’

He puts a knee between yours, pushing your legs just far enough apart to feel like he’s predator and you’re prey. Like your body is his to bend, to set in place and enjoy. ‘What?’ he asks, breath hot and liquored by your ear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

You clear your throat, willing your voice to strengthen. This was what you’d initiated, after all. This is the side you’d asked to see. ‘If that’s what suits, sir,’ you say again, stressing the ‘sir’ like it’s the key to it all, the fuel under the fire. By the way his breath shudders against you, you’re starting to think it is.

He exhales again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He’s quiet with it, like the thought had escaped without him realising.

‘I want to,’ you insist. You lean forwards slightly, curving your lower back upwards and into him. ‘You want to, sir.’ It was obvious enough. The extra work, the lingering stares, the hardness growing against the back of your thigh —it all lead to one thing, to wanting, lusting. To favouring desire over anything else.

His hands lift from the desk-top to your waist. Taking the bait, then, making it his.

You turn between them, not caring that the motion has skewed your uniform, twisting the skirt beneath his hands until it’s sat, bunched, at your hips. It would have to be moved eventually, taken off entirely if he had the time. ‘If you take any longer,’ you say, ‘the house’ll wake up, Mr. Shelby.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts you as he answers, putting you onto the desk, and himself between the spread of your legs. ‘And you’ll have duties to attend,’ he says, looking over you, rather than at you. His gaze is foggy from the need. You hum in agreement, playing the game, following his lead as you’re paid to. When his nose finds the space beneath your earlobe, his lips ghosting the edge of your jaw, you melt. You pour into him like scorching gold. ‘I’ll have to have you now,’ he decides, ‘while you’re off the clock.’ The words rumble out of him, low and careless, shouldered by a kiss.

You close your eyes, holding his biceps to keep you upright. ‘If I’m off duty, should I call you sir, or Tommy?’ you ask, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

His mouth opens against your neck, hot and possessive. His lips drag down to the base of your throat before he replies. ‘Are you a maid,’ he asks, panting into the skin, ‘or a whore?’

A whore, you think. He’d never kiss his wife this way, would never have relations like this with any other member of staff. You purl against him as his hand goes between your thighs. ‘Whatever, sir,’ you breathe, ‘I’m whatever you want.’ Right now, you’re a torched flame, you’re a white hot coal, split apart by the heat. His fingers move like he’s known you before. ‘There,’ you tell him, sighing as he finds that tight bundle of nerves through the cotton. ‘There, sir.’

When he kisses you on the mouth, you’re almost surprised enough to reject it. You had wrongly assumed he would avoid kissing you like a lover, but his tongue swept between your lips, pushing in to find yours, and then the thought had gone entirely. You kiss back like you’ve been starved of it, your arms around his neck to ensure that he’ll stay.

‘I imagined it like this,’ he pants, pulling back to say it into your cheek. ‘From the start.’

Really, you want to ask, right from the beginning? But instead, you moan and curl into him, spine mirroring the path his thumb had taken across your clit. ‘I didn’t,’ you breathe, humming as he repeats the motion. ‘I imagined more fucking.’

His hand pulls away fast enough that you regret saying it, but he speaks so urgently that you don’t have time to mourn the loss. ‘Take them off,’ he says, already starting on the fastening of his trousers. ‘Now.’

You do as you’re told, unclipping the garters from your tights, so that you can push your underwear down and over your knees. He’s back against you before you can shake them from your ankles.

‘It’s just a fuck,’ he says, with one hand on himself, and the other on the bare bone of your hip. ‘Alright?’

You nod, meeting his gaze with the same rushed sincerity. ‘I know.’ You hadn’t doubted that for a second. You’re after the same thing he is: relief. A purge of the tension that he had been building between you, a break from the questioning of ‘what if?’.

‘Just a fuck,’ you repeat, desperate now the heartbeat pulses from your head to your toes. Now it thumps from you, to him. You’re sure he can feel it as he presses into you.

He groans, savouring the sensation, and lets his hands stray to grip your thighs. ‘That’s what you wanted?’ he pants, rocking his hips forward again. ‘That answer your question?’

You lie back, over the newspapers and the letters. Let him fuck you like you’re just another object on the desk. ‘Yes,’ you sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ It not only answered your question, but clarified another that you had yet to consider. You knew now, why he employed you still, but you’d discovered why you worked for him, too. Why you kept the job you hated, why you hadn’t quit after failing so many times. ‘It’s this,’ you tell him, ‘it’s for this.’

[jaskiersvalley]

(Nearest) Furthest and Dearest

Written for @aphelioo as part of @thewitchersecretsanta.

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier Summary:  With so many suitors and adoring fans to swoon over Jaskier, Geralt had no hope of ever being more than a protector and source of inspiration. He'd all but given up, accepting his fate. It wasn't like Witchers should want or need anything anyway.

It was an understatement to say that Jaskier was popular. He had fans across the Continent who adored him to an almost alarming extent. This made Geralt both happy for his friend but also rather sad for himself. Because, in the constant stream of admirers, Geralt didn’t stand out. He didn’t have a special place in Jaskier’s life. Well, he did, he was Jaskier’s muse, took him on adventures and provided inspiration for songs. But that wasn’t all Geralt wanted to be. Like the many other adoring fans, he had only gone and lost his heart to Jaskier. Unlike the masses, Geralt didn’t just love the image of Jaskier and his songs. Nobody else got to watch Jaskier wake up, squinting worse than a startled mole into the sunlight while creases from the pillow lined his face. Geralt quite doubted Jaskier would have quite as many fans if they had to bear witness to not just the songs in the taverns but the grunt and whining in the forest after a slightly underdone squirrel meal. Over the years Geralt had seen Jaskier in every state of being and still loved him, no matter whether he was belching after an ale or snoring thanks to a cold.

The problem was, Geralt could watch from afar as Jaskier charmed his way through life, got invited to bed after bed, often with the offer of more than just a tumble. All those suitors, they could offer so much more than Geralt ever could. A Witcher didn’t have a lot, they have even less to spend on frivolous gifts. The scarf Geralt managed to save up for and present Jaskier as the weather turned cold was, by Geralt’s standards, extravagant. Yet it paled in comparison to the three others that were given to Jaskier over the following week, each more ornate and of softer material than the previous. It was no wonder Geralt’s measly offering got shoved to the bottom of a pack and forgotten about.

Anything Geralt offered, it was vastly surpassed in value by others. When he could offer a nicer room at an inn for the night, a suitor whisked Jaskier away to a cleaner, larger and less drafty room for the night. The food Geralt could buy was pigswill when Jaskier could dine at any court he wished because he had invitations from all over the Continent to play for the rich and elite. It wasn’t like Geralt could even offer Jaskier a horse to ride with him. Feeding two humans and a horse was strain enough on Geralt’s coin pouch already, he went hungry so Jaskier and Roach wouldn’t more frequently than he’d hoped. It didn’t matter anyway, any horse he could have offered Jaskier would have been good for nothing more than glue when compared to the carriages that came to whisk Jaskier away if he so wished.

Despite all this, Jaskier still stuck by Geralt’s side. It certainly wasn’t for all the gifts Geralt had tried to bestow on him, it wasn’t for good company because even Geralt knew he was sullen and bitter most days. The only reason Jaskier stuck around was probably for the safety of travelling with a Witcher while exploring the Continent. Geralt couldn’t begrudge him, he knew Jaskier craved the new and the exciting, was familiar with how Jaskier would pout when a contract was something as mundane as a handful of drowners. He had even begun to turn his nose up at kikimoras, preferring to stay at the inn and entertain his loyal fans than get dirty and be in danger for such boring contracts.

If all that hadn’t been enough of an unfortunate mess, Geralt’ heart had one more painful twist to choke itself with. Namely that he was failing as a Witcher. He was meant to be aloof, above frivolous things like matters of the heart. Maybe the second round of trials were wearing off, weakening him. Geralt had no idea what was happening to him. Working through his inner turmoil and allowing himself to gift Jaskier things had been difficult enough. Now, he was left holding the tatters of his heart and trying to figure out whether it was terminal.

So caught up in his worries, Geralt didn’t notice at first that Jaskier was chattering away. That was another problem. Jaskier spoke so many words but rarely actually said anything and Geralt didn’t have the time and energy to parse all of them. Thus he often found himself humming along to Jaskier’s chatter without actually paying much attention. There were more pressing issues to concentrate on, such as the surrounding area and listening out for any danger as they settled for the evening. What did draw Geralt’s attention was Jaskier huffing as he dug through his bag.

“Honestly Geralt, why do you let me carry so much crap around? I don’t even need three scarves.”

Said scarves were being pulled out of the bag and being dumped unceremoniously in the dirt by Jaskier’s feet. Rich, vibrant silks that were now covered in dust. Geralt never could understand how anyone could have such disregard for their possessions. Then again, Jaskier didn’t treat Geralt’s heart any different either, maybe he just didn’t value what he had.

“What do you keep them for then?” They could sell them or burn them and they would be more useful than when they lugged them around, bursting their bags with frivolous gifts.

“We might need them.” Jaskier frowned at Geralt as though he’d heard the worst suggestion on earth. “I’m certainly not tearing up my doublets to bandage your wounds with.”

Not that Geralt ever expected him to. “I don’t need or want you to.”

“I know.” There was a hint of sadness to Jaskier’s words. “You don’t want anyone or need anyone. I know.”

Which was an absolute lie but Geralt couldn’t refute it. A Witcher didn’t have wants or needs. They had the Path, their swords and their purpose, and that ought to be enough. They shouldn’t be mooning over a bard who could have anyone and anything. They most definitely shouldn’t be trying to impress them. Maybe there was a ballad in it that Jaskier would never realise: the Witcher who gave his all and still wasn’t enough. Usually, those Witchers ended up dead.

A soft huff from Jaskier drew Geralt out of his introspection. His friends was staring into the bag with a small, almost bitter smile twisting his lips. Whatever he had in the bag, he was running his thumb over it.

“I imagine it’s nice, not wanting anyone. It gives life a certain simplicity surely.”

“I guess.” The lie burned Geralt’s throat.

“Makes me wish sometimes that I could have some of your stoicness, some of the stones of the fortress around your heart.”

So someone had caught Jaskier’s fancy. It was only a matter of time, Geralt knew. Their time together was limited, dictated by Jaskier’s whims and desires. Geralt had done all he could to entice Jaskier to stay but, like always it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

“We can go back and find them. It’s not too late.” If the lies had burned, saying those words was agony. Geralt didn’t want to let Jaskier go, didn’t want to deliver him on a platter to someone else. But Witchers didn’t want anyone, Geralt didn’t need Jaskier. That wasn’t a luxury he could afford, both literally and metaphorically.

“It’s okay Geralt, they don’t want me. I know that for sure.”

How anyone wouldn’t want Jaskier was beyond Geralt. He cleared his throat, wanting to comfort but that was a skill he never developed. When Roach was upset, he pressed against her side, so with great simplicity, Geralt shifted to sit close to Jaskier, shoulders together. It meant he also caught a glimpse of the item in the bag that had Jaskier all misty eyed.

A cheap scarf. A very familiar one at that. Geralt could distinctly remember buying it and shoving it at Jaskier’s chest in a market when it was cold. It was never worn after that first day and Geralt had known he’d failed at giving a gift once more. Now, it was in the bottom of their bag, being caressed by a sad Jaskier while other, fancier scarves were still on the ground.

“It’s silly, I know,” Jaskier whispered. “But I couldn’t bring myself to wear it for fear of damaging or losing it.”

“It doesn’t match any of your outfits.”

“I don’t care.” Jaskier turned to Geralt, pulling the scarf out. Keeping eye contact, he linked his fingers with Geralt’s and wrapped the scarf around their joined hands in a mockery of handfasting. “You gave it to me. That makes it important.”

Speechless, Geralt frowned, trying to make sense of it all. He didn’t have to because Jaskier’s eyes were flicking down to his lips as they leaned in closer together. As their lips brushed, Geralt had a thought. Maybe, just maybe, he had been enough all along.

[typically-untypical]

Cursed

Story Plot: Roman lost his connection with his soulmates 8 years ago because of a mistake he made. Now that he is being freed from his isolation, hopefully he can fix his mistake and become worthy of his soulmates.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 11 - Curse Breaking

Two weeks. Two weeks of searching, of decoding, of dreams without Storm and Starlight. Roman had spent that time getting to know Breeze fairly well, the man was an absolute sweetheart and Roman was quickly falling for him, though he was worried about his dreams. Each night he fell asleep to Breeze, and it was beautiful, but every morning he woke up with a longing that pushed him to work harder to fix his mistake. He wasn’t sure how he had pulled Breeze into what he had done, but he deserved to meet the other two.

“Prince Roman!” Lycott came running over to where Roman had spent the last two weeks, combing through the books one by one. “I was working on transferring one of the ledgers when I realized it fit some of the criteria you were searching for!” They handed the book over to Roman who immediately started looking through it. He didn’t have to look very far. The very first page told him exactly what he needed to know.

‘This book belongs to Alaster Doyle, the master of subterfuge.’

“Honestly, who puts their real name on one of these books. Of the hundreds I have looked at, not a single person has used their actual name… okay, that is not true, but very few have, and those that did had very benign spells in their books.”

Roman began flipping through the pages, looking at the different spells this man had performed and the different potions he had made. When he got to the end, there was a page written out that looked more like journal writing.

‘I have been working on this curse for some time, that commoner and the chaotic prince cannot be allowed to become the rulers of this kingdom. If I succeed, I will tear this page from my book and burn it, but if I fail, the world should be allowed to know my reasons.’

He refused to read further, slamming the book shut. He had seen a bit of spell work on the next page and he knew this was the information he needed, but he didn’t want to see anyone slandering his brother, or Janus for that matter.

“Thank you Lycott, this is exactly what I needed. Is Logan here today?” Logan was the only person he trusted to know how to fix this. He had been the one who told Roman that it might be possible with the curse maker’s ledger.

“Um… no…” There was a look of confusion on Lycott’s face but Roman ignored it for now.

“That’s fine, where does he live, this is urgent.”

“I believe out in the forest, you just need to follow the path to get to his cottage.”

“Very good, can I take this?”

“You are the prince… we haven’t finished copying it, so I would just ask you to be careful?”

“Of course.” With that, Roman immediately went to leave, hoping Lycott would tell someone he had taken the book. He didn’t have a moment to waste.

Unfortunately, he wished he had made time to get his horse from the inn. He hadn’t realized, ‘just down the road’ was a two hour walk. It was much longer than he had wanted to waste and the sense of urgency now buzzed in his veins like angered bees. The feeling barely settled when he saw the small cottage nestled amongst the trees. His feet moved faster until he was face to face with the door, hand rapping on the wood before his mind could act. “Logan, Logan I need to speak with you. It is of the utmost importance.”

The man who answered the door wasn’t Logan. Instead, it was a man about Roman’s height, with dark raven hair, and a piercing gaze. He was too gay for this. Roman was not prepared for another hot man to enter his life. He needed to fix the curse on Janus. How were there so many hot men in this town anyway?

“Is there a reason you are pounding on my door Mr. Hot Head?” His voice didn’t seem malicious but rather entertained as he slowly began to check Roman out. His eyes gazed over Roman’s body, quickly changing from one emotion to the next. Roman didn’t know how he should feel about it. On one hand, a hot guy was checking him out, on the other, he was a prince and someone was looking at him like a piece of meat. On the third hand he didn’t have, this man wasn’t just ogling his body, but it felt like he was looking at something so much deeper.

He needed to ignore it for now, there were pressing matters. “I need to speak with Logan, we spoke at the library and he said that it is possible to break a curse if I have the ledger of the person who cast it. I have found the ledger and I now need his assistance.”

The other man’s smirk and smile faded into anger and horror. He left Roman standing at the door as he swiftly turned on his foot, shouting out towards another room? “LOGAN WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?”

Logan came out of a door across the great room. He must have been working on something because he was holding an empty potion bottle in his hand. Seeing his familiar face was comforting, but he was also stricken with the thought that he was about to see something very personal that he shouldn’t be here for. “Is something wrong? Are you having side effects?” He hadn’t noticed Roman yet, and his eyes were completely trained on the other man, full of love, and concern.

“WERE YOU GOING TO TRY CURSE BREAKING?!”

“What? Of course not, what would give you-” Logan looked over the other man’s shoulder at the open door. His eyes met Roman’s. “oh Prince Roman…” He paused, looking over Roman in that same piercing way that the first man had. Whatever Logan saw must have been surprising, because he rubbed his eyes before looking Roman over, again. “OH, Prince Roman, and… someone else.”

“No, you, focus. Princey over here said that you told him with a ledger you might be able to break a curse, but that’s only if you are able to perform a curse breaking spell, something you cannot do.” He punctuated every word as he got closer. There was definitely more going on here than Roman was privy to. He felt very very confused right now.

“Although you are factually correct you are jumping to conclusions, Virgil. I told him if he was able to find the original spell we may be able to figure out what loopholes were implemented in it, and if there were none I was going to suggest he found a mage who has the ability to curse break. I would never take that task on myself.”

His shoulders slumped. “Lo… why… why would you? I thought…”

The other man was scooped up into Logan’s arms, the hold loose enough he could escape but Roman watched as he curled in tighter.

“Prince Roman, why don’t you come in, I think we have a lot we need to discuss.”

Roman hesitated but eventually stepped in. “If you are certain.”

Logan looked at him with the softest expression he had ever seen. It made Roman’s knees feel weak. “I am sure, my Ember.”

[First] - [Previous] - [Next]

[queenof-literature]

Wind

Part 7 of my Hero of Wild series! Wow we’re here already

I’ve had this idea for so long and I finally get to write it! Uhh I don’t have any clever jokes for April Fools, so take this instead. Honestly the most April Fools thing about this is I didn't get a chance to edit much sooo sorry about that.

Hope you enjoy!

Wind narrowed his eyes at the scene before him.

Why did Twilight get to be best friends with the mysterious new hero!

Of course Wind was happy Wild seemed to be finding his place among the others. It started when they found out he had the cooking skills of a castle chef. No, scratch that, his skills had to succeed any castle chef. He had tried food in Warriors and Twilight’s Hyrule Castles, and nothing beat what Wild could do with time and a proper set up!

Man, he was hungry.

Not the point!

The point was, Wind watched Wild silently laugh at something Twilight said to him, Wind couldn’t help but huff. Jealous wasn’t really the way he would describe his feelings. Wind was happy when he saw Wild getting along so well with Twilight, especially with how shy he seemed to be around other Hylians.

That was another mysterious trait about Wild. His name, Wild. It implied someone savage and not caring of others and their rules. That wasn’t Wild.

Wind discovered what his name really meant. If Wind’s name was the gentle tuseling of hair from the high seas, then Wild’s meant the course but soft feeling of grass beneath one’s feet.

Their names were similar, not just in the lettering, but in the feelings they both provided. When Wind thought of their names, he thought of freedom. And with Wild perhaps a few fires along the way.

And Wind was gonna be his friend dammit.

~

His sign was outdated, the other Links weren’t the only ones who didn’t understand him. Like many things, sign has evolved without him. The only one who truly understood that was Zelda, and she was in Hateno.

Wild didn’t have many memories, but he did remember talking to her after they finally got along, only with her. Verbally. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t even remember what his voice sounded like.

Would he have a similar accent to Zelda? Posh and regal? Probably not, accents could be changed and acclimated and it had been over one hundred years since Wild had heard anyone have that accent but Zelda, and perhaps the ghost of the king. No, his accent would probably develop into a mix of things.

  As for his voice itself, would it be soft and quiet? Loud and course? Did the two feel different when you spoke? Sure Wild had made noises before. He laughed when he was alone, sometimes the noise just bubbled up and he couldn’t stop it. But talking? Wild didn’t know how, and that was embarrassing. He could read, he could write, and he could understand how other people spoke. He couldn’t speak.

He had watched how others talked. He tried to copy it. When they said an ‘oh’ sound, they made the same shape with their mouth. He was positive he was doing it right, he copied it exactly, but nothing pushed passed his mouth. Nothing of importance anyway.

Just as it had the past couple of days, Wild’s mind flashed back to Sky’s offer. He had seemed so genuine, it didn’t seem to be something the man would offer simply to be nice. But perhaps the man hoped Wild would forget about it, maybe Sky himself had already forgotten about it. Still, there was just a small ember of hope in him.

He imagined himself finally keeping up with conversations, laughing loudly, maybe even surprising Zelda. He shouldn’t let himself get lost in fantasies but he couldn’t help it, not when it was a small possibility. There was no telling if Sky’s offer was truly genuine, or that Wild would actually be able to follow through and speak, but what if he tried. 

Still that would require reaching out, approaching Sky and asking for help with one of the most basic actions one could perform, something many did without even thinking about it.

Yet Sky understood that, didn’t he? He had been open with Wild, told him of his childhood struggles. Perhaps there really was no shame in asking. Wild let out a low sigh, not aware of the figure stalking him from behind, eyes narrowed slightly, plotting.

~

Now, how was he to approach him? Wind mused on the answer as the group walked forward. No one had claimed this Hyrule as their own yet, the best they could do is walk the main path and search for a town, and keep their guard up.

Truthfully Wind didn’t know Wild well enough yet to determine the best approach. Would a direct question work? He had tried that before and had been mostly brushed off, but that was before Wild knew who they were. Wind decided ultimately to be honest and say whatever was on his mind, Wild could probably tell when someone was being dishonest or not genuine. 

Twilight bid Wild a short goodbye before speeding up to talk to Time near the front of the group, and Wind saw his chance. Wind took a deep breath and trotted up to be beside Wild, giving the fellow teen plenty of room as the rest of the group tried to. They did the same thing for the more antisocial Links at the beginning of their group as well.

“Hi Wild! Breakfast this morning was really good.” Wind complimented, trying to start up a casual conversation. It was true, the food Wild called ‘crepes’ had absolutely blown Wind’s mind. Maybe Wild would be more inclined to talk if it was about something the teen enjoyed, and Wind could tell he really loved cooking.

‘Thank you’. Wind felt success at the small sign, preparing to talk again before Wild continued his signs. ‘There are a lot of flavors’. It took Wind a moment to remember the word for flavors, but Wild signed slow enough for him to figure it out. ‘Depends on the ingredients.’  

“I bet! Feel free to experiment with ingredients, I'm sure we’ll all thank you for it.” Wind joked, chest feeling light at the small smile he earned from Wild.

‘Will do.’ Wild joked back, and Wind bit his lip at the lull in conversation. Now or never.

“We don’t know each other very well.” Wind observed. “Can we ask each other questions?” Wind didn’t know what making friends was like in Wild’s Hyrule, but at Outset it was very forward, hopefully he wasn’t crossing a line. Wild’s steps seemed to falter for a minute, and Wind felt another spike of worry, before Wild nodded.

“Really? You don’t have to.” Wind assured, fearing Wild was only saying yes to be polite. Wild nodded once more, and Wind’s eyes lit up in excitement.  

“What’s your favorite color? Your tunic is blue like mine! Where’d you get it? Where’s your Zelda? Where are you from? In your Hyrule I mean. Do you have a favorite animal? What-”

“Woah there Wind.” Warriors physically stepped into the very one-sided conversation, placing a firm but gentle hand on the sailor’s shoulder. “Give him a minute to answer.” Warriors noticed the wide eyes Wild held under his hood and his twitching fingers.

“Oh! Um, sorry Wild.” Wind rubbed his neck, embarrassed. He just couldn’t decide what to ask first!

‘Don’t have one. Zelda made it. In Hateno. Everywhere. I like horses.’ Wind’s eyes lit up, excited someone had kept up with questions, but halted himself from asking anymore.

Wild however, felt sadness bloom in his chest further. 

He wanted to say that his favorite color depended on the day, on what marvels his Hyrule had in store for him. 

He wanted to say Zelda made it for the champion, her duties as a princess, but she was a scholar at heart and she was pouring over books and reaching out to leaders to make her kingdom better as they spoke. 

He wanted to say that he loved his horses and the companionship they provided, but he thought bears and elk were fun to ride and foxes were so cute with their fluffy tails and huge yawns he only killed them when absolutely necessary.

He wanted to say that, but he didn’t. Because he couldn’t.

Before Wild could raise his hands and ask a question in return, a shout was heard from the front of the group.

“Watch out!” Twilight yelled, unsheathing his sword. What? Wild’s head whipped around, eyes scanning for any sign of a threat. He summoned his sword with the others, lucky enough to have a royal broadsword with minimal damage. The rest of the group stood in different stances, ranging from wide to more narrow and showing how different they were from one another. It appeared they were all waiting for the enemy to make the first move. And make the first move they did.

 A creature launched out of the trees in an instant, right towards Warriors, who expertly lifted his shield  to protect himself.

“They’ve surrounded us!” Called Legend, blocking another creature attacking him from the other side of the path. Wild could now see they looked like a different version of Lizalfos, green scales shimmering in the sun contrasting the pale milky yellow of their stomachs. They didn’t look like his Lizalfos, their heads rounder and bodies thicker, but that was something Wild would need to get used to.

“Keep an eye out for the black one!” Warriors shouted to their group. Black one? Did they not have black Lizalfos? Something in Wild’s head screamed at him and he summoned his shield from his slate and parried a strong hit from yet another of the creatures. They really were surrounded, but Wild was used to fighting this amount by now. He raised his hand to his slate to summon his bomb arrows before pausing in growing realization. What was he thinking? He would hit his comrades!

His hesitance resulted in a strong punch to the chest, Wild’s breath caught and he stumbled back, running right into Sky behind him who was fighting off his own Lizalfos. Wild quickly recovered, almost dodging the next attack before realizing that if he did the creature’s sword would ram right into Sky’s chest. Wild clumsily blocked, chest constricting, desperate to get away and cursing himself for his own weaknesses. Quickly he lurched to the side before the Lizalfos could raise his sword, and ran right into Legend this time.

“Watch it!” Legend snarled, not even noticing who it was in the heat of battle. Wild’s eyes darted around, looking for any opening, anything to do. If he could get into a tree he could jump out and take them out with his arrows, no, no opening. He continued to use his sword and shield, hyper aware of all the bodies surrounding him that weren’t enemies.

And at the worst possible moment, Wild’s shield broke. He really should have expected it.

The Lizalfos made a deep growl in its throat, smashing its shield into Wild’s head causing the boy to stumble and fall, landing on his back, his sword skidding away from him. The Lizalfos didn’t hesitate, raising its sword to plunge into Wild. This was going to hurt…

With a cry from the left, Wild watched in awe as a small body parried the sword above him, Wind. The boy swung his sword in an arch, cutting right into the Lizalfos chest. It was shallow, but it allowed Wind to gain the upper hand. How had he made that big an arch without hitting anyone? Wind launched himself from the ground, mercilessly driving his sword into the Lizalfos’ chest, crashing them both to the ground.

As the other Links finished up their own fights, ensuring they were truly out of enemies, Wild stared in awe and shame. Everyone had taken out at least one enemy, everyone but him. Wind had to step in and save him. Wild’s cheeks were bright red, an uncomfortable heat across his face, ears and neck. Without thinking Wild yanked his hood higher, chest constricting. They were all looking at him, they were all seeing how inept he was at this.

“Are you okay? I think he got hit in the head!” Wind called out to the other Links. Oh, so that’s what felt wet on his face. Oh well, head wounds bleed a lot. Wild silently begged Wind not to draw anymore attention to him. He just wanted to forget this ever happened. They were all looking at him.

“I have a potion!” Hyrule called, rushing over. Wild shook his head as Hyrule approached him. He was fine, he didn’t need it. He had already messed up.

‘Fine’. Wild signed as Hyrule sat in front of him, perhaps normally this would be fine, but everything was too much and Hyrule was too close.

“Wild, you’re bleeding.” Hyrule stated, reaching for Wild’s face. Wild quickly flinched away, hand flying towards his slate in momentary panic. Hyrule’s eyes widened, realizing what he had done and pulling back. “Sorry! Sorry just… you’re bleeding. We have extra don’t worry.” Once again Hyrule offered the potion, holding it far away from himself for Wild to grab. Wild didn’t know Hyrule all that well yet, their shield surfing adventure aside, but he knew the other boy would probably persist until Wild drank, and the last thing Wild wanted to do was to make a large spectacle. Well, more than he already had.

Wild reached out to grab the potion, ensuring he didn’t touch Hyrule’s fingers, before slowly sipping, only consuming enough to heal his head wound. Almost instantly he felt fog he hadn’t even known was there clear up, allowing him to relax, only slightly. There was still an uncomfortable heat in his cheeks and ears. He handed a skeptical Hyrule the bottle, gesturing to his healed head no longer gushing bright red. Hyrule reluctantly clipped the almost full potion back onto his belt, but didn’t leave Wild’s side.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wind approached Wild. It was too much, it was all too much.

‘I’m sorry’. Wild signed shakily to Wind, eyes focusing anywhere but on the younger boy who had perhaps saved his life. ‘I’m sorry’. He signed once more, this time in the direction of Time and the others. That could have gone so much worse, he could have gotten someone killed, specifically Wind. 

“Wild, it’s okay we’ve all had to save each other’s asses before.” Wind piped up, but Wild only shook his head, he lifted his clammy hands, but nothing would form. What could he say? That he was sorry he put them all in danger? That he was sorry he almost blew them up without thinking?

“Teamwork is hard when you’re not used to it.” Wild’s shocked eyes darted to Hyrule in front of him, the other boy having a look of sudden understanding of what had happened, and that understanding dawned on the rest of them. 

“Do us a favor and don’t almost electrocute all of us like Hyrule did.” Legend smirked at Hyrule’s red cheeks and betrayed glare.

‘I almost blew you up’. Wild signed without thinking, feeling regret pool in his stomach. He expected a scolding, a remark about how reckless and dangerous he was, how they shouldn’t let him fight. He did not expect them all to burst out laughing. 

“Great, there’s another one!” Four groaned, but he didn’t sound very upset.

“Like you’re one to talk!” Warriors laughed, dodging a kick from the smith.

“Let’s not stay here for too long.” Time announced, however the clear smirk on his face told everyone how amused he was. Honestly, Wild was scared he would get a verbal lashing, but Time would probably wait for later to do that.

“Are you okay to walk?” Hyrule asked, and while Wild appreciated the concern he was confused how a small head wound would impede his movement at all. Still Wild shook his head and stood, ignoring the slight tremble in his legs from the feeling of the world imploding just a moment ago. Wild had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at how pathetic he was being.

It seemed unnatural to be on the road again. The others chatting even while keeping a far sharper ear out for what lurked along the path.

“Hey Wild.” Wind greeted once more.

‘Thank you’. Wild signed with as much feeling as he could have while not making eye contact.

“Oh! Uh yeah, no problem. Those bastards are slippery.” Wind smiled at him, the same as before, and Wild felt himself calm slightly. “Listen…” Wild cocked his head slightly at Wind’s sudden serious tone. “I know…  I know what it’s like, to feel embarrassed when someone else has to save you. I’m the youngest so…” Wind trailed off, gesturing his hands vaguely, but Wild could understand what he was trying to say. “It, well, it took me a while to realize that getting help isn’t something you should be ashamed of. I used to feel bad whenever someone stepped in to help me, but Warriors told me that it’s okay to accept help, and I had forgotten that. That’s what being a group is. Don’t feel bad.” Wind smiled up at Wild, who looked as shocked as he felt. It’s okay to accept help. It was such a simple sentence yet it sent Wild reeling.

‘Thank you, Wind’. Wild signed, and Wind lit up once more at the sight of his name sign he was so proud of. He nodded and he and Wild spent the next hour exchanging questions and answers. They were all simple, nothing that dug deep, and Wild wasn’t as overwhelmed as he thought he would be. Yet something still weighed heavily on his mind.

~

Sky was well aware of the company he had. The others had taken to doing their chores before settling in. It was a general unspoken rule that if they had the opportunity, Links that had their tasks done could do whatever, just as long as it was near camp or someone else knew where you were and you were within someone else’s eyesight. It certainly helped them all, especially those who were used to traveling alone. The tasks weren’t really assigned, most of them just did what was closest and others filled in the rest. Sky had already ensured that Epona was properly taken care of while Twilight secured the perimeter, and was content to work on his latest woodworking. It wasn’t the only hobby he had, but it was nice for evenings he was content to sit back and observe.

Currently though, his main point of interest was awkwardly shuffling behind him. Sky wondered if he would come around in front of him to talk, but ultimately decided to be the first to speak. Sky shifted from where he was leaning against the tree to face Wild, meeting questioning but troubled blue eyes. He had been wearing his hood around camp less, and Sky wanted to think that was a positive sign. It seems being acknowledged only troubled Wild more. 

“Hi Wild! Is there anything wrong or would you just like company?” Sky offered, always so considerate for his feelings. This only made Wild more flustered as he stood there, awkwardly shuffling his feet. “Wild?” Sky pressed, no impatience, only concern and confusion. Wild squeezed his hands close to his chest before raising them. 

‘Is your offer still open?’

[inkrabbit]

Too Good to be True - Micah x GN!Reader

You know, I started writing this. Hated it. Pulled it back up cause I like the concept and finished it. So here we are.

Summary: While working the general store in place of your father, you meet a new face. The two of you hit it off quick, but when events transpire in Valentine, you find yourself making a quick decision.

Word count: 2,340

 The start of spring had proved it was here to make an impact on you. Having broken his leg and too busy nursing it, your elderly father had put you in charge of the general store in Valentine. It hadn’t been the first time he had done this, broken limb and all, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. This wasn’t your first time working for the man, and you found yourself doing it more often than not whenever he didn’t feel like getting up and running the store. However, it wasn’t too bad. The store wasn’t that far from home and folk that resided in Valentine had loved you and your family from the moment you all had moved. They were friendly for the most part, coming in and greeting you with smiles as they picked out what they had wanted. You would lend them the catalog anytime they wanted something from the back, and you helped them pick out items for jobs or even gifts. But even with the tame life, you always felt as though you were missing something.

 A week into you running the shop was when things started changing. A man you had never seen before had entered the shop in the late evening, blue eyes looking you up and down with a crooked smirk as he started to browse. He certainly stood out from the rest of the townsfolk. His white hat was dusty and stained of dirt, his blond hair reaching his shoulders. His leather coat, while still a good shade of black, had also looked like it had seen its fair share of better days. He had peaked your curiosity from the moment he walked through that door, bell chiming as you two made eye contact.

“Haven’t seen you before,” you comment, catching his attention. He turns away from the cigarettes, showing off his green neckerchief a bit more as he raises his head, eyebrows raised and waiting for you to continue. “You new to Valentine? Or just passin’ through?”

“Depends on the company,” he replies with a playful tone, going to turn back around and continue his search for what he needed. “They all look like you? Might just have to stay.”

“Well, is that so?” You lean against the counter, listening to him chuckle softly.

“Oh, it is so, darlin’,” he purrs, snatching up a can of tobacco chew and strutting over to you. He sets it down none too gently, resting his hand on the top of the counter and inspecting you further. He gives you a toothy grin, mischievous but intriguing. “So, what’s your name, anyway? Gotta be as beautiful as you.”

 And he said it was when you told him. You have had customers flirt with you before, complimenting your looks and even how you worked so diligently, but this man – Micah Bell the third, he said his name was – was the only one who caught and held your interest even long after he left the shop, promising to visit again real soon so you two could get to know each other better. You had stood there, smiling like an idiot far after he had left the store with a wink, questions running through your head. You wanted to know where he came from, what he did and exactly who he was.

 So those were all questions you asked whenever Micah would return to the store. He seemed to come back every other day to help you close shop, roaming the town with you as you asked everything you could, your arms linked and some of the townsfolk giving you questioning looks as you would giggle at his comments. Oh, but he was a mystery of a person, responding to your questions with vague answers. He did “this and that” for work, and he lived “you know… here and there”. It was irritating to no end, but he had confessed that it wasn’t the right moment to explain everything. Honestly, you were worried he had a family waiting for him back home, but he had laughed out loud when you voiced these concerns. He told you of a “family”, but it wasn’t the one you were worried about.

 Every night it was the same. The two of you would walk around Valentine, sometimes going to the saloon to get something to drink and relax. You had found yourself feeling more relaxed than you had been in a long time, and those soft touches he would trail along your hand with his would send a shiver up your spine.

“So, how’s that father of yours?” he asks as he takes a sip of his whiskey. You had told him of the fall your father had taken the week prior to you two meeting when he had asked if you worked at the store all alone.

“He’s doing fine. Practically better now, but he’s bein’ a baby,” you tell him with a smile. He hums, nodding his head as his thumb brushes your knuckles. “Business been slow, though. Wishin’ it would kick back up.”

“Money gettin’ tight?” he questions. You give him a nod, sighing softly. He listened to your story, almost intently as you told him about the bills that had been piling up. Of course, you had shrugged it off, telling him it would all work out. He just gives you another hum.

 And just like the other nights, when your fun would have to come to an end, he would walk you back home. You would thank him for the nice time, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, something he had to get used to. The first time you had done it, he had seemed so surprised, but had quickly recovered with that smug grin. He always waited until you got inside safely, too. You weren’t sure if he knew, but you would always peek out the window and watch him walk away, whistling for his horse. You always wondered where he went, and what that “family” of his was like. He had told you his father passed and didn’t admit to having any siblings.

 You hadn’t seen Micah for a few days after that, and you had worried that confessing to your family’s money problem had put him off. Or, maybe he was just a drifter that had finally decided to pack up and head off somewhere else. Whatever the case was, you found yourself missing his company. His gruff voice and those sweet compliments he would always give you as he pulled you closer. Well, there was always tomorrow. At least, you hoped. Closing up shop and making your way home. However, as you walk up the steps leading up to your porch, you notice a little lockbox sitting on the bench, its lock busted. Curiously, you pick it up and open the top, peering inside. There’s a small piece of paper with your name scribbled on it, atop a stack of money that almost makes you choke. You don’t know how much there is, but you take it inside after a moment’s hesitation. You remove the paper with your name, tossing it into the trash and heading to your room. Setting the lockbox on your nightstand, you close the top and sit down on the edge of your bed. Maybe you would talk to your father about it tomorrow after dinner.

 By the time the evening comes tomorrow, Valentine is in lockdown. You heard the officers firing at some “Van der Linde”, and a sheriff had urged you to stay inside the shop and keep your head down until it was safe to come out. It felt like a lifetime before everything outside had stopped and someone had told you everything was okay. He had looked you over and made sure you weren’t hurt before he sent you on your way. You were to go straight home and stay safe. Wishing him luck on catching the outlaws, you made your way down the road and towards home.

“There you are, darlin’!” Micah was the last person you expected to see lingering around your property. However, he seemed jumpy and in a hurry.

“And where have you been, Mister Bell?” you ask him. He doesn’t exactly reply, just walks over to take your hands, giving one of them a kiss.

“Walk with me, darlin’,” he says, leading you away from your house. You give him a curious look but you follow regardless. He’s leading you further and further away from Valentine, just on the outskirts, and you notice this is the first time you two are walking without your arms linked, but instead your fingers laced together.

“You gonna tell me what all this is about, Micah?” You finally ask. He groans softly, giving your hand a soft squeeze.

“I gotta move,” he tells you. The same disappointment you had when he didn’t show up at the shop hits you again. Of course. You didn’t know what to expect, honestly. Settle down with a man who had a shady background? Just your luck.

“Of course you do…” Your voice is low and your hand slips from his as you cross your arms, staring down at the ground. Micah’s quick, however, stepping forward to grab your face with a gentle touch so you’re looking at him again. Those blue eyes are finally filled with a different emotion, and if you had to guess, you’d say it was worry.

“Now, don’t you start that, darlin’,” he coos, thumb stroking your cheek. “Look, I know I ain’t been truthful and it ain’t been fair to you. But I just… I need you to trust me, one last time.”

“Trust you for what, Micah?” you question. He inhales deeply, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls back.

“Come back with me,” His words hit you like one of those trains you had heard all about. Your mind goes a mile a minute, thinking of every possible outcome as you open your mouth.

“Micah… I…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. Sure, you had one day longed to pick up and move from your parents house and have your own life. But for Micah to just so suddenly tell you he has to leave and wanted you to tag along. It was something out of those fairy tale books, where Prince Charming comes to take the princess away to a fantasy land to live happily ever after. You never exactly considered yourself some princess locked away somewhere, but as Micah speaks, it becomes more convincing.

“It ain’t gonna be easy, I’ll admit,” he starts softly, removing his hands from your face to once again hold yours. “but we’ll make it work, doll. You an’ me? We’ll be alright. I’ll show you the ropes and make sure you know how to take care of yourself. We’d be free, together.”

“What about my parents?” you finally ask. You can see him falter, but he regains himself quick.

“We can send them money!” he responds, and he seems to be getting more anxious as the seconds go by. “C’mon, sweetheart. Trust me this once and come with me?”

You take a moment to think it over. Perhaps this was what you were missing in your life? Micah keeps looking around, but a smile finally breaks out on his nervous face when you finally tell him “yes”. His arms envelope around you in a tight embrace, a barking laugh escaping his lips as he lifts you up and swings you around. Finally being set back on the ground, you’re greeted with a bright grin as he lifts a hand, whistling for his horse.

“You won’t regret this, darlin’,” he promises. You just give him a smile as a Missouri Fox Trotter makes its way over. Micah helps you on the back of the animal before mounting up himself. The plan was to go pack your things, leave a note for your parents that you were hightailing it out of there and would eventually be back to visit. You knew your father was pretty much back to his normal self and had just been letting you continue to run the shop so he could continue his “vacation”, as you liked to call it. You left the note on top of the broken lockbox, making sure to keep the top open to show off the money inside. And once you were done, suitcase in hand, Micah helps you back up. It almost feels surreal as he spurs his horse, Baylock.

 Along the way down the road, Micah finally comes clean, though he sounds reluctant to do so. He had confessed that he was the one who had left the lockbox at your doorstep, and when he tells you about how he’s part of an outlaw gang, you’re almost surprised to hear the name “Van der Linde” again. The same group that had tore up your hometown a few days prior. Apparently someone his leader had stolen from was looking for vengeance, which had ultimately escalated to a gunfight. Of course, this didn’t sit right with you, but Micah’s colossal hand reaches back to gently rest on your knee.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he coos as he glances back to look at you, “We’re gonna be alright. I just need ya to… have some faith in me.”

 And truth be told, you do. With an arm hooked snugly around his waist, you rest your head on his shoulder and let out a soft hum. He doesn’t tell you everything, and you didn’t expect him to. But he tells you enough about the gang, and tells you the plan his leader, Dutch, has. A trip to Tahiti once they get enough money, and Micah promises you a spot on the boat right next to him. It sounds nice. A fairy tale ending. You don’t even notice the smile that graces your lips as you imagine what it’d be like in Tahiti with him and the rest of the group.

[azaffranist]

Deleted lines of dialogue in Frozen 2

We know that F2’s plot suffered from last minute changes and even leaks that we got before the release contradict the final material, but that’s another can of worms for another post. What I wanna talk about in this post is something I happened to notice a few days ago while watching the Frozen 2 Outtakes video available with the Blu-ray version of the movie. Here’s a link to it. My apologies if there’s a post out there already talking about this, but I haven’t seen one so I thought I might as well give it a go.

Basically, the video is a recollection of funny moments that arose when the voice actors were recording their lines. But… I don’t know if this was deliberate or an oversight on Disney’s part, or if they didn’t care too much about it at the end of the day and released it anyways. The thing is, we can see the original dialogue they were supposed to record as tiny subtitles, and good god, there are tons of deleted lines, including an earlier version of Some Things Never Change, and some point to the existence of completely different scenes from the ones we got. Here’s what I mean:

I don’t recall ever coming across deleted lines for Frozen 1 apart from the famous “That’s no blizzard, that’s my sister”, so this is pretty interesting.

But in addition to that, while digging through some old files I found recorded lines of a Frozen 2 book that came out before release (Specifically on October 4th, 2019, when the Frozen Fan Fest was being held with the first released merch). That’s a long, long time ago and I don’t remember the name of the book, sadly, but you can listen to the recording I made right here. If someone does remember the name of the book that’d be really cool. I think the original recording was provided by Snow on the Arendelle Kingdom Discord server, so credits to her.

UPDATE: The book was found along with other interesting pieces of info! It’s called Frozen 2 Read-Along Storybook and CD. Credits to @lovewillthaw-j​ and their amazing detective work! Here it is.

What’s particularly interesting about this one is that no merch released on October 4 had the ending of the movie. Every book was cut off at the moment Anna received Elsa’s message in the cave, with no mention of Show Yourself or Elsa’s death for that matter. Now, we don’t know if they were trying not to spoil the movie, or if they legitimately didn’t have a final ending at the time the books were made. Knowing how… messy Frozen 2’s development was, I think we can all sort of agree it was the latter. 

Because of this, there is some really intriguing stuff. Nods to scenes that aren’t in the final movie, shameless hints to Elsa’s permanent death, events happening in a different order… I don’t know if these lines were recorded only for the book, but I doubt they were, because many of those lines are actually in the movie or are referenced in books and some have really slight modifications like changes in tone of voice. I guess we’ll never Find The Truth™, but we can analyze these lines too because they can give us an idea of what earlier versions of the movie were like.

So let’s look at them one by one. Looooong post ahead.

Frozen 2 Outtakes Video

“Should have left it to me. Love you too. You blew it Kristoff. Oh. I’m alone. It’s fine.” – Kristoff/Sven

This one definitely happens during Kristoff’s first proposal attempt. Before this line, Anna says, “She couldn’t act out ice?” and we can assume Kristoff absent mindedly responds with “Should have left it to me”. That makes sense, considering he delivers ice for a living and ice is his life. Then we got “Love you too”, which Kristoff says in the final movie, but then we got Sven dialogue as he tells him “You blew it, Kristoff.” “Oh, I’m alone,” is what would go before he finally says, “It’s fine.” The reason the dialogue is all mixed up is because Johnathan Groff is the one recording the lines and he does both Kristoff and Sven’s voices (well, technically, Kristoff).

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“Hey. What the—What is this? Hang onto me. What’s happening? Run. The mist is rising. We are being pushed by the…” – Kristoff

We can tell this happens when the Arendellian gang was crossing the mist wall for the first time. The scene was evidently going to be longer and more chaotic than what we actually got. Apparently they run and that would’ve been pretty cool.

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“The winds are restless. Like how I sometimes feel in the fall. But I’m not ready. I love these days, I’m grateful for them all.” – Elsa (Alternate Some Things Never Change)

Now this is what I call a quality deleted line. I recommend you guys watch the video to hear the little part that Idina sings to have an idea what Elsa’s part in Some Things Never Change was originally going to be like. Definitely a bit sadder than what we got. I think this line gives the idea that Elsa wasn’t feeling too comfy in Arendelle even though she enjoyed the company of her family immensely, or if we go with the idea that fall represents change, Elsa is feeling restless in the face of change. She’s not ready to ‘change’ and wants to keep enjoying her days in Arendelle. She can’t let them go. How ironic. Interpret it as you want!

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“I’d freeze this moment if I could find a way…” – Elsa (Alternate Some Things Never Change)

Same scene. Sadder atmosphere for her part of the song. It’s a shame we don’t know what goes next.

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“Water drowns with a stallion’s might.” – Elsa

Wowowowowow. Now this is interesting, because I have no idea where to place this line of dialogue meaning there might’ve been another scene foreshadowing the Nokk. In the final movie, the only moment we see the Nokk is during When I Am Older and it was very brief and played for laughs. But this line gives the idea that the existence of an angry murderous water horse was going to be mentioned earlier on. Now I have a lot of ideas as to what she might’ve referred to (maybe that’s just a comparison she made on the fly and didn’t know the water spirit was a horse? Maybe it’s like a riddle she solved to know what the water spirit was?) but to be honest I think there’s no way to know. Fun to theorize, though.

Also, total confirmation the Nokk is a male!

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“It’s magic. It’s amazing. There’s a voice. I need to follow it.” – Elsa

This line probably happened when they visited Pabbie and evacuated Arendelle. A different take on how she explained to Anna why she wanted to go on the journey. Honestly, I prefer what we actually got. She sounds quite desperate and hypnotized in this one. VOICE. I HEAR. MUST FOLLOW. I don’t know what you guys think. The actual explanation in the final movie is not great either but I prefer it.

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“Hey Elsa. It’s your mom. Remember, mothers are always right. Now, be who you are!” – Olaf (Longer Post Credits Scene)

We were robbed. This line and another one points to a longer post credits scene. I suspect they weren’t able to include it because of time constraints, because c’mon, this is hilarious. An animator on Instagram said that they were not able to model the inside of Elsa’s ice palace for the post credits scene because they ran out of time, so they used Ahtohallan pillars and changed the lighting so that it gave the ‘feel’ of the ice palace. I’m sorry I can’t provide a link right now because I don’t remember who the animator was, but if I find it again or someone else does I’ll update this.

UPDATE: The Instagram comment in particular was found! Thanks to @super-mam-te-moc​ for the screenshot. 

Okay, kind of got derailed there. They didn’t have enough time to finish the post credits scene and that’s the only coherent answer I can find as to why this was deleted.

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“They’re all looking at us, aren’t they? Okay, got any advice? How do I free the forest?” – Elsa

Very similar to what’s in the movie but here Elsa asks Bruni if he knows how she can free the forest. The fact that Elsa asks a little cute salamander this… kind of gives the idea that Elsa was completely clueless, same as the rest of the gang, and the rest of the writers. Jkjk!

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“Emotional and slightly haunting memory of Mother? Is that you?” – Olaf (Longer Post Credits Scene)

Same as above. We were robbed. Twice.

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Unused Recorded Lines from Frozen 2 Book

“Teeth? Oh. Pillow fort! Disturbed! Aw, c’mon, you definitely look disturbed!” – Anna

Shorter or summarized charades scene. Anna never mentions a pillow fort in the final movie.

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“I know that rumble.” – Kristoff

This probably goes when Pabbie and the trolls appeared at the evacuation place. Seems like in an earlier version, there was more buildup before the appearance of the trolls. Kristoff hears the rumble of the rocks before anything else. Deleted scenes seen in trailers also point to a slightly different ‘troll appearance’ scene.

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“I won’t leave her side.” – Anna

During Pabbie’s visit. We know thanks to trailers Anna’s little talk with Pabbie changed a bit. Here Anna displays her worry for Elsa even more.

Here’s a comparison between the trailer:

And the final movie:

What’s particularly interesting about this is that a later point in the movie, during Kristoff’s third failed proposal, Anna suddenly remembers Elsa and runs off hurriedly saying, “I swore I wouldn’t leave her side”. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. She never explicitly says so in the final movie, but it seems like she did in an earlier version. 

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“We’ll fix it together. / Together. / Together.” – Anna, Kristoff and Olaf respectively

Probably as they were going to go on the journey, considering the lines are said chronologically? They discovered the power of teamwork. Weird Elsa doesn’t say ‘together’. Maybe they left it out because, coughcoughtheydidn’tfixanythingtogether.

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“Uhm, I sense no way in, but this is fun nonetheless.” – Olaf

Definitely during the arrival at the mist wall. Olaf doesn’t say anything as he bounces off in the final movie.

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“Hah! It let us in, but it clearly does not wanna let us out.” – Olaf

Same as above. Anna is the one who says they’re trapped in the final version.

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“Your father was… / King Agnarr of Arendelle.” – Mattias, Elsa, respectively

In the final version Mattias immediately says “Agnarr”, while here Elsa finishes his words after his pause. To be honest, it makes more sense in the final version, considering Mattias would remember Agnarr’s name without a doubt.

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“I’m fine. I just… actually, I’m starving.” – Anna

This probably goes right after the “Don’t Run Into Fire” argument. I didn’t think much of this line at first but it’s actually really interesting, because in the final movie, right after Elsa and Anna’s argument, Elsa places Iduna’s scarf on Anna’s shoulders and with this perfect timing they find out she was Northuldra, leading to the whole “Vuelie” scene. But here, there’s no comforting with scarf, and it seems like this scene leads to the one after Vuelie in the final movie, with Anna eating as she talks to Mattias, and Elsa and Honeymaren talking about the spirits.

Which means… that in an earlier version, the discovery of Iduna being Northuldra was probably going to happen later on. Pretty crazy, right?

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“If I lost her… I think I’d lose myself.” – Anna

All right. I think that this line is one of the most important ones. Thanks to books having this line in them we can pinpoint exactly when Anna utters it: expectedly, when she was talking with Mattias. The delivery of this line is also particularly heartbreaking, so I recommend you guys hear the audio file.

I don’t wanna ramble too much but there’s a lot to be said about this line. But yes, I’ll actually end up rambling. Warning.

Along with “I won’t leave her side”, it seems like earlier versions of the movie showed Anna being even more anxious and worried about Elsa’s wellbeing. As we know, Anna and Mattias were talking about ‘doing the next right thing’, and being prepared when life throws you down a new path. This is obvious foreshadowing to The Next Right Thing. But why were these two cut? Don’t they deepen Anna’s character and show just how deathly scared this whole adventure had her?

Well, here’s some speculation. These two lines are obviously foreshadowing Elsa’s death. The thing is, there exists the likelihood that at the times these lines were written and recorded, there was no such thing as Elsa’s revival. We’ve known for a long time that Elsa was going to die for real in Frozen 2, but test audiences were left traumatized and probably in need of PTSD treatment, hating it so much that the ending and everything that came with it was rewritten around June. Including, I speculate, these two lines which blatantly foreshadow Elsa’s big oof.

There’s not much foreshadowing to Elsa’s death in the final version. That’s because it was a minor thing. She died before the climax of the movie and her death scene didn’t feel final nor dramatic enough to fool the audience and make them believe she was really, really, won’t-breathe-ever-again kind of dead. Some watchers didn’t even realize she died, because the scene was not supposed to feel like her end. Not even the score, Ghosts of Arendelle Past, has a final feeling to it. It just kind of ends there in an ominous tone and they stress the fact that she sent an important ice message before freezing, giving hope of events resolving themselves.

But these two lines do foreshadow of a terrifying event. One that’s not minor nor temporary. These two lines, probably among others we’ll never find out about, and Anna’s worried sick attitude in earlier versions, give more weight to Elsa’s death, Elsa’s permanent death, and ultimately, The Next Right Thing.

Or maybe not and I’m wrong and there was no need for a 4 paragraph long overanalysis of two lines. Maybe they just deleted them just cause. Who knows the ways of writers…

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“All this time… the four spirits. Right there.” – Elsa

Maybe this goes during Honeymaren’s talk about the spirits? Right there, meaning, they were all along depicted in Iduna’s scarf and nobody in Arendelle realized? We’ll never know.

_______

“You mean like a voice?” – Elsa

Probably happened when Honeymaren was talking about the fifth spirit crying out the day the forest fell.

_______

“She made it across the sea.” – Anna

“I know why the spirits evacuated Arendelle.” – Anna

“Olaf, I know how to free the forest.” – Anna

Okay, I’m gonna talk about these three at the same time because it’s the same scene. Obviously, these lines of dialogue take place in the cave as Anna receives Elsa’s message, right before The Next Right Thing. We know that for sure because The Next Right Thing was one of the first Frozen 2 songs to be written and the writers knew that’s where they wanted the story to go. This seems like a pretty different setup, but to be honest, it feels like a placeholder. Anna doesn’t even react to the fact that there was a statue of grandpa slicing an innocent man in two right in front of her which just feels weird.

And all in all, the lines just don’t have the sadness of the final version. Anna doesn’t sound nearly as disappointed and her voice doesn’t lower that much. She sort of sounds determined in the last line! So determined to wreck her home to pieces with a gigantic flood… ahaha Anna…

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Okay, it was pretty fun to overanalyze all 23 deleted lines that I managed to find. There are even more deleted goodies out there thanks to the merch, but we’re gonna leave that for another moment.

There’s no doubt that Frozen 2′s development had plenty of problems along the way and I think it’s pretty interesting to learn what it could’ve been and could’ve had. These lines are just the tip of the iceberg and I’m more than interested to know what exactly the test audiences saw in those infamous test screenings...

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UPDATE: More deleted stuff!

@theupsidedownpyramid​ collected more deleted lines found in the trailers right here!

@yumeka36​ made a really interesting analysis of the Frozen 2 Novelization with even more deleted lines and scenes here!

[alia-turin]

For a fic that is mostly written that surely takes a lot of time to edit. Anyway, new chapter (yey) for the like 1.5 people who read that and my self indulgence. I do promise lots of action next time (which most likely will be next week) and from then on. 

As always thank you for reading and commenting, I love you guys

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 4) Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3 Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter, mention of scars, angst AO3 Link

Caranthir walked in the yard where Eredin and Imlerith were practicing. He didn’t join them immediately but watched from distance, not even sure he wanted to talk to them. He spent the last week in the mountains in the Winter Tower, alone. He needed to clear his head, but he managed somehow to achieve the exact opposite. He had buried himself in books reading about magic of half elves and half humans. He didn’t want to think about her, but all he did was somehow centered around her. What he read, what he dreamed about at night...he hoped that a week away will just make him forget about her, but it didn’t. Just made it worse. What bothered him more was the fact that he had to force himself to stay away. Every time he thought about the roundness of her face, the softer elven lines of her cheeks, the eyes he had the urge to get himself back in Tir na Lia. He had missed the way her body felt against his and it might have been an innocent touch but made him realize how he never truly had that in any way or form.

“The prodigal son is back.” Imlerith shouted at him as he and Eredin ended another sparring session. Perhaps he was not as out of sight as he thought he was.

“And what was it this time?” Eredin mocked him. “Avallac’h? Someone else? Your canary?”

“Needed some air.” he tried to keep his voice flat and show his annoyance at the fact Eredin was aware Caranthir vanished every time he had to deal with his emotions.

“Plenty of air here.” he opened his arms as if to point at all the air around them. “Every time you fall into one of your moods you hide in the snow. So what was it?”

Caranthir didn’t answer. That was a weakness, neither of them would understand what he needed right now and they would most likely laugh it off. He would laugh if it was one of them in his shoes. But they weren’t. Imlerith needed a touch only when it made him orgasm and Eredin would never have an issue act on his feelings no matter what they were. The king did not hate himself unlike Caranthir.

“Fuck. It’s the girl.” Imlerith groaned and reached for his pocked tossing some coins at Eredin, the king caught them with a smile.

“I actually wanted to spar.” he looked at Imlerith pretending none of the conversation right now actually happened.

“I have been swinging a sword all day. Wrestling.” That wouldn’t have been Caranthir’s first choice, Imlerith was built like a mountain, but he needed the physical distraction. Any physical distraction would do. Last time they wrestled his neck and back hurt for two weeks.

Caranthir unbuckled the clasp on his coat and let it fall down. He pulled his shirt over his head as Imlerith did the same, both of them removing their belts.

Imlerith was bigger than him, pounds of muscle over bones, the man could lift a horse and won’t even break a sweat. Caranthir was far from being skinny and weak, years of practice with these two had built him stronger, but he was small next to the other man. His only chance was to be actually faster which was not as easy as it seemed as Imlerith had the reflexes of a snake.

“I forget what mess you are.” Imlerith taunted him pointing at his body. He knew it was just a game, but the words stung all the same. He was a mess, his tattoos covered most of the scars on his body, but they were still there.

“Avallac’h took pity on you, if he had made me physically perfect, you would never get laid, someone had to be uglier than you.” Caranthir responded but all he earned was a snarl and Imlerith launching at him. If he could use magic, they would be done by now, but that was not fun. He braced himself for the impact but the force Imlerith used to slam at him was so strong that it threw him on the ground immediately.

“One -zero” Eredin announced leaning against the nearby wall with a smug smile on his face.

Caranthir got himself on his feet quickly and started slowly circling around Imlerith. He couldn’t win with brute force, he knew that he had to be smarter. Imlerith launched again, but this time he was paying attention, he moved out of the way just in time to grab Imlerith’s arm and twisted behind his back. Imlerith tapped his free hand against his naked shoulder.

“One - one.” Eredin announced. Caranthir could almost bet money the king was enjoying that too much.

He stepped back allowing some distance between the two of them. They watched each other. Imlerith did the same attack and Caranthir was honestly surprised, but before he could react Imlerith ducked down. Caranthir used his arm to block the mass coming against him and for a second he could but Imlerith just grabbed his foot and made him lose balance, Caranthir falling on his back again, the stone and dirt scratching against his skin and Imlerith’s full weight on top. He was better than that, but for some reason concentration was not something that was coming to him easy right now.

“Two - one.”

Caranthir waited for Imlerith to get off him and took a deep breath. That was humiliating. He knew Imlerith was stronger and physically better in a fight, but it was still embarrassing. Just like the feeling of loneliness that had been following him for a week now. The thought stung his mind and he did not see when Imlerith launched at him again, his shoulder at Caranthir’s knees and tossing him over his whole body. The fall hurt, his head hit the stone and for a second he could see two of Eredin by the wall and three times more towers on the castle.

“Still with us?” Imlerith loomed over him, Caranthir nodded. “I think that was enough beating for a day.”

He had to agree. His back had started hunting on the first throw and now his head was hurting. He reached for his shirt and used it to clean the dust and sweat of his body.

“I think that was your worst in a very long time.” Eredin said as he pushed himself off the wall.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we were using magic.” it was childish of him to say that, but Caranthir could fight, might not be as good as the other two but he wasn’t weak, just...distracted. It was humiliating and he had no one to blame but himself and maybe Avallac’h.

“Caranthir, I need you focused.” Eredin finally said, looking at him dead serious, no mockery. The navigator nodded. He needed himself focused.

The king started walking toward the castle then suddenly stopped. “The reception Ge’els has been going on for a month is tomorrow. You will both attend and you will both behave.”

Imlerith groaned, Caranthir just looked up the castle to one particular window. He had a problem to resolve, but he had no idea how.

After he changed and cleaned himself he opened a portal and walked straight into Avallac’h’s room. He wasn’t even sure why he was here, it wasn’t like the two of them had any sort of relationship left. Caranthir was still angry at him, after so many years and Avallac’h had isolated himself with his work and plotting.

His teacher was sitting behind his desk, head buried in a book. Caranthir just stood there not saying anything part of him felt like a little boy again, unable to solve a problem and going to his master to ask for help. Avallac’h did not turn toward him either even if he was aware Caranthir was there. He regretted coming here, that was stupid, there was nothong on earth Crevan could do for him, he didn’t even know what to ask.

Avallac’h lifted his head from the book and looked at him. They both just stood there, neither of them talking just looking at each other.

“What is it?” Avallac’h eventually broke the silence, but Caranthir didn’t answer. To tell him what the problem was, felt like cutting himself open and serving his guts on a platter. He was developing feelings he could not understand and he was...scared. He didn’t want to be hurt again, he didn’t want to make himself vulnerable, but at the same time that feeling he felt when he touched her and his arms were around her...he wanted that. Avallac’h was the only person he knew who had truly been in love. Probably Eredin somewhere at some point but that was just a wild guess. Imlerithw would never make that list.“Caranthir, I cannot read minds. Either tell me why you are here or leave, I’m busy.”

“You and Lara…” as soon as he mentioned the name Avallac’h eyes narrowed. “I know you loved her and then things happened. Was it worth it?”

“Was it worth what?” Avallac’h’s voice was calm but Caranthir knew him too well. He was getting angry and defensive. Expected almost every time they had one of their little verbal sparrings, Caranthir would drag Avallac’h’s feelings out there in the open.

“I’m not here to fight.” he decided to clarify, he regretted coming here as it was already but he was desperate to find some understanding of himself and who better than Avallac’h to provide that. “You were hurt after she left, your pain - was it worth in comparison to the good things you felt before she left?”

Avallac’h didn’t answer for a very long moment. His teacher just looked at him, Caranthir could bet money he was trying to figure out what was going on, after all the two of them did not speak on trivial topics anymore. Ever to be fair.

“I will assume you are not asking me this question out of concern for my current or past mental state.” Avallac’h finally said. “So I will also assume it has more to do with your mental state.”

“Forget it.” He did not need a lecture right now. He would deal with his own problems as he had always done. Most likely it will all end in ruins, but he had tried. He started opening a portal.

“Wait.” Avallac’h raised his hand. “Falling in love is to find pieces of you that have been missing. There are a lot of pieces missing from you.”

“And whose fault is that?” Caranthir said through his teeth.

“You cannot blame me forever for everything. Whatever I have done, I have done it, but you are more than hundred years old, the damage you are doing to yourself is not on my conscious.” silence again. Caranthir had to fight with himself not to snap back, instead he just started casting the portal again. “Caranthir.” Avallac’h spoke. “You are a cage in need of a bird...if you happen to find your brid, make sure the cage’s door remains open. It would be painful if the bird dies inside.”

Aine walked from one end of the room and counted 8 steps. Exactly as many as she counted yesterday. Then she did it on the long side of the room. Twelve. Yes, that many were there yesterday. Her mind was not playing tricks on her.

She stopped by the window and looked down. She was that close to throwing herself through it - what was there to lose, her life did not mean much here anyway. Nothing had happened for a week. Not a thing. Caranthir never showed up again which was a relief for the first two days. Then she was so bored even his presence was going to be a relief. She read all the books he gave her - twice. She did not try doing any more magic, she was worried she might mess up again and there was no one to stop her now. Then again who knew, maybe she should try to bring the castle over everyone’s head and that will solve all of her problems. Her mind was lost in itself, servants came and went, cleaned the room, left her food, one would almost be deceived she was not a prisoner. None of the servants spoke to her, they didn’t even look at her, but what was new. She was used to the servants in her father’s house give her these looks, as if she had any say in the matter of who she was. Aine never understood it as a child, until she understood she was also treated differently than Aen Elle. Not as a servant but as a mistake.

She walked to the window again and looked down, she could see the city and the courtyard...and there he was. That bastard. She was too high up to make the features of his face, but she recognized the hair, the frame and the cloak lined with furs. He was with two other men and from what she could make they were talking. Then Caranthir and the larger man started taking their clothes off. She had seen the tattoos under his chin but she did not expect they covered most of his body. She couldn’t recognize the signs or symbols from here. The other man was larger and looked physically stronger. Then they started wrestling, Caranthir obviously being at disadvantage. He managed to overpower the other man once and was thrown on the ground three times. Then after speaking for another moment the three of them walked away.

Aine stepped from the window and looked again at the room. Her feelings were anywhere between anger, despair, fear and sadness. What did she need to do to just get out of here. He had obviously lost interest, whatever that interest might have been which was a relief. If she didn’t find a way out she was probably going to lose her mind.

She was used to loneliness, that did not scare her, but the lack of freedom was what drove her insane. All she wanted and needed was just for that door to open so she can go back home and she won’t bother anyone. Why was he even doing that to her?

Magic...fine she could use magic, so what? She had no real interest in using it, she lived for almost hundred years without that she thought she could manage perfectly fine for whatever time was left. She also knew magic was a sure way to get yourself noticed, as already proven, so she’d rather stay away from that.

As she was debating on how exactly to get out of there something weird appeared in the middle of the room, a hole in the air and Caranthir stepped out of it. A portal. She had never truly seen one, but everyone knew about them.

Her first reaction was surprised but then it was anger.

“You bastard.” She had been holding his ring in her hand so she threw it at him, the metal hitting his chest and falling down on the stone with a loud noise. Caranthir looked down at the ring then looked at her. She suddenly realized what she did and made a step back.

“Not so scared, now are you, my little canary?” He smiled, but there was nothing warm in his smile. He lifted his ring and placed it back on his finger where it originally came from.

Caranthir could see she was on edge. Different than it was before, she was still afraid of him, but that now? That was pure anger and frustration. He deserved it for sure. Being away for a week did not change how he felt, made it even worse. He had been starving to touch her again, but now that he was in front of her all he could think was what Avallac’h said. He would never admit it out loud, but his teacher had some good ideas occasionally.

“Sit.” he pointed at the bed that was right between the two of them. He set on one end and was hoping she would sit somewhere closer, but that did not happen, she sat as far away as possible from him without falling off the damned thing. Caranthir wanted to fix that. He made it that way, his actions, as always had led to his own suffering, but he also had no idea how to be...normal.

“Let me go or kill me, but I cannot spend another day here.” she was looking him in the eyes, straight at him, not trying to avoid his face as most people did. He was impressed, but also wondered if she would be able to keep that gaze if he was to pull his hair back and show her all the ugly scars on his skin.

He had to say or do something, but he had no idea what. That is why he had avoided her for a week, because he didn’t want to mess it up. He already had, but could be worse. Avallac’h would have never gotten himself in this situation, Eredin would probably just seduce his way out, Imlerith wouldn’t have a problem by now. If he showed her who he truly was, she would hate him, but he was all he had.

A normal person in his place would probably tell her that he likes her, that she is free to go but he would like to see her again. He wasn’t normal and not being in control of the situation freaked him out. What if he never saw her? Sure he would get over it, but the need he felt? That will never be satisfied and he was not going that road a third time.

“The king has a reception tomorrow, you will come with me.” he didn’t ask, maybe he should have asked first, but why? What if she said no, it’s not like he was going to agree to it.

“You are insane.” she took a deep breath as if trying to find her courage with that. “You kidnap me, I almost died because you needed to prove a point about magic, I’m losing my mind here and you…” she stopped. He wanted to know what was coming after you.

“I will ask my servants to bring something for you to wear, they seem to be getting your size well enough.” he made a hand gesture to her clothes. “You are a nobleman’s daughter, you know how to act.”

“Bastard half human daughter...what am I to do there?” it was strange but the passion of her voice was pushing him further and further in his need to just...hold her. He wanted to tell her that she was more than that. Maybe for everyone there but not for him. She had made him feel something he had not felt in years, she was confusing him and somehow he liked it.

“Distract people from me.” was the only answer he could give.

[whereisstevethestove]

4 with anaroceit, or loroceit?

Prompt: 4. ‘The king is missing’ with Roman, Janus, and Virgil.   For the 300 Follower special here! (x)

TW: Implied Torture:)

AO3 Link (x)

In the three years that Janus of Onryx had been a companion to the king, not once, not twice, but almost fourteen times that the man had gone missing.  Most of the time, he had been found hiding somewhere on the grounds, so not exactly missing, but it did add some spice, so he dealt with it.

So don’t judge him if he was rather indifferent to the guard that had burst into his personal study.

“The king is missing.”

“Don’t bother me, I’m busy.”  Janus flipped a document over, pulling out a candle so he could wax seal the back.

“He’s not in the palace.”

“Do I care?”

“Janus, please, he was here last.”  the guard shifted nervously as Janus lit the candle, still indifferent.

“Let me finish this up and I’ll do your job for you.”

...

The king, meanwhile, was being insulted by a rather cheeky young man.  Roman had said good morning to Janus and then had snuck out of his own palace to head to the surrounding town.

Roman loved his job, he loved the people, but he hated how it made it difficult to just go out and observe.

Anyway, he had made it to the edge of the town, where the poorer people lived when the voice assaulted him.

“Looks like a little royal got lost, eh?”

Roman paused.  There wasn’t anyone in the area and so he slowly turned in a circle, one hand flinching to his sword.  “Where are you?”

“Does it matter?  Well, I guess it does, you do look higher ranking than me by any chance.  I’m on the roof to your right.”

Roman turned and looked up to see the owner of the voice, who was lounging on the thatch roof of a small shack, smirking.

“Hello Princey.”  Roof guy said, waving.  “Here to tax me again?  Honestly, at this point, might as well take the skin from my neck before I commit high treason.”

Roman sputtered.  “I... I was just taking a walk... Thatcher in the Rye.”

“Very creative for a royal.  I’m not a thatcher.  This isn’t even my roof.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it belongs to the rich fucker who is gonna force me off it.”

Roman really wished that his father had taught him how to talk to people like this.  He honestly had no idea.

“can I get a name?”

“Nah.”

“Well, Nah, how can I help you?”  Roman swept into a bow, feeling a bit silly to be bowing to a dirt covered person on a roof, but they laughed.

“A royal, bowing to me of all people! Must be my unlucky day.  You can’t help me.  When I said that I didn’t own this roof, I meant it.  It’s eviction day, I’m just waiting to be dragged off in chains.”

The nonchalant way that he seemed to accept it was jarring to Roman.  Yet, behind the dirt and the wary gaze, he could see very real panic in the other’s eyes.

...

To say that Virgil was having a good day was a lie.  First he’d had woken up to the reminder that this was his last day of freedom and when he decided to make a last, bold but stupid stand, the freaking king had shown up.

He was playing dumb in hopes that King Roman would laugh it off and hopefully leave before the count could show up.

God, it’d be embarrassing to be dragged off kicking and screaming if his royalness was watching.

Unfortunately, the king was still talking and Virgil could see a cloud of dust from about a mile off, which could only be caused by horses.

“Do you know who I am?”  The king’s voice pulled his eyes back down.  Virgil shrugged.

“You’re dressed like a common folk, but your clothes are too clean and you wield a sword. Most likely a royal boy running from his mommy and daddy for a day out.”  Virgil looked back up to see that the dust was closer, probably arriving within the next five minutes.

“How dare!  I am an adult.”

“Cool, I don’t care.  Run off royal, before the wolves come.”  Virgil waved his hand dismissively and the king looked taken aback as he swiveled around to see the approaching count with his entourage. 

“Virgil! Get down from there.”

Virgil rolled onto his back, taking in the sky.  “Can I take a week to think about it?”

The count sighed, hell it was loud, Virgil could hear it from here, almost fifteen feet away.

“Do you want to be forcefully removed?”

“I mean, I would have gotten off the roof if I wasn’t expecting a fight.”  Virgil flipped over again, glaring at the count, the king lost in the small crowd of people that had started to gather outside of their nearby homes to watch.

It happened pretty fast.  One of the entourage walked his horse forward, reached up and yanked Virgil down by the hair.

Virgil fell, landed on the dirt with a thud and then scrambled to his feet, attempting to book it before the man from before grabbed his hair again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s whatever I guess.  You were hired for this right?  Can’t hold it against you.”  Virgil said as roof puller got off his horse.

“I have to tie you up.”

“Fair enough.”

The ropes were the worst, and it was only now that Virgil’s bravado left him as he was thrown on the back of a horse, completely at the mercy of the count and company.

He looked up as the horse started to walk, catching a glimpse at the crowd.

“Bye!  Wish me luck as I rot!”  One last jab, fake snark as a hope to the others that he wasn’t about to be broken.

Virgil then closed his eyes, and quietly began to cry.

...

Janus had finally finished what he needed done when another guard ran in, further annoying him.

 “We found him.”

“Thank goodness, I was so worried.”

“He wants to speak with you.”

Janus stood and pushed his chair back, following the man to where Roman’s study was.

His partner was pacing the study, dressed in what looked like a poor disguise, hands running nervously through his hair.

“Ro, what’s wrong?”

Roman looked at him.  “Just something I saw today.  Do we really tax people so much?”

Janus let out a quiet sigh.  “Honey, you might want to sit down.”

“No, I want to know the answer.  I just watched someone get tied up and taken because they couldn’t pay!  How is that fair!”  Roman whirled around, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes.

“We try to do it percentage based.  The person you was taken probably owed private tax.”

Roman turned again and Janus walked over, stretching out a hand.  “Did you get a name?  We can look into it.”

“Virgil.  I don’t think he had a surname.  But Janus, they ripped him off his roof and just.. took him, it was horrible.”  Roman took Janus’ hand, still shaking a bit as his partner folded him into a hug.

“We’ll look at it, promise.”

...

Roman waited a week before looking back with the records finder to see if there was any clue where Virgil was.

Logan was annoying, but at least he did his job better than anyone.  He handed Roman a stack of transcripts, and when he looked through it, it was all trade receipts between Virgil and the Count Burgess, and the prices slowly got higher with no explanation to why or what was being traded.

At least he had a location now.  Roman took Janus and a few guards on the journey to the Count’s estate.

Needless to say, the Count was surprised to see the king knocking on his door.

“Your Majesty.  To what do I owe the pleasure, and with so little warning?”

Roman stepped forward as the Count bowed.  “Just looking for someone.  Virgil was his name.  There’s no record of him after you settled your debts with him.”

“But of course.  Come in?”

The group entered and Roman shivered.  Everything was perfectly clean, but even then, it all just felt shifted to the left.

“I don’t have many that come to me for financial aid, but when they do, it’s always delightful to help them out.  Of course, the poor boy couldn’t pay me back...”  the Count turned and opened a door.  “He’s down there, two at a time.”

Roman gave Janus’ hand a squeeze before nodding to the Count.  “I’d prefer to go first.”

“But of course.”

The pair went down the stairs, it being eerily silent.

“Now, before we enter the backrooms, I’d prefer you don’t have me killed,  I’m only collecting my debts.”

Roman narrowed his eyes.  “You say that as if you are doing something that would warrant death.”

The Count shrugged.  “You seem to be the overly emotional type you Majesty.  I learned my method of debt collecting from your father, so forgive me if I do offend you.”

Then he opened the door.

...

Virgil woke up, feeling like death itself had sucker punched him.  He didn’t bother opening his eyes, it was dark, of course it would be, he was in the dungeons after all.

Something felt off though.

“Is he okay?” “MMMMmmm, no, the infection is pretty bad.  I’m sorry Ro.  He’ll probably be in and out of consciousness over the  next few days.” “Thank you.”

Virgil tried to open his eyes, yelped in pain from the natural sunlight and then tried to roll away, pain flaring absolutely everywhere.

“Hey, you’re okay now.  Promise.”

Virgil didn’t respond and he felt a hand rest on his forehead.  

“I’m so sorry etoile.  Just rest okay?”

Virgil nodded.

Something warm covered him and he drifted off again.

...

Janus was surprised that Roman had let the Count live.  After everything had gone down, they’d returned to the palace with one less Count and one patient in need of severe healing from the injures and undernourishment from just one week.

They were laying in bed when Roman first asked him.

“Am I bad because of what my father did?”

Janus rolled to his side to look at his love.  “You saved Virgil, right?”

“yes, but~”

“No buts Ro, you did better than any king I know.  You’re a hero.”

“Hmm.”  Roman muttered before scooting closer to Janus.  “I’m worried.  Patton said that he’d get better, but I still worry.”

“How about you let the funny magic man do his healing, and I’ll make sure that you don’t go stir crazy waiting for your crush to wake up.”

“Not a crush.”  Roman protested.

“Virgil is very pretty though, you told me that.  And you seemed to put a lot of effort in for one person who owed debts to a person.”

“Okay, fine, you win Jan, but you’ll see once he’s coherent.  He’s wonderfully snarky.”

Janus laughed quietly.  “Fair enough.”

...

Roman wasn’t in the country when Virgil first awoke and was actually functioning past a fever dream and a few mumbled sentences.

Janus was there however, and Roman was right.

Virgil was incredibly snarky, and also very antsy, further proven when he tried to clamber out of the bed, almost falling before Janus caught him.

“Let the fuck go of me.”

“I’m sorry, I’d rather not have staff clean blood from your face off the ground when you collapse.”

Virgil hissed and Janus begrudgingly let him go, hands still hovering just in case.

“Roman’s going to be disappointed that he didn’t get to meet you.”

“We’ve met.”

“Ah yes, the roof incident, I’m well aware.”

“Fuck you.”

...

It took a long time for the scars to heal.  It took even longer for Roman to work up the courage to ask if Virgil would court him.

And it was Janus who asked in the end anyways.

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 6 Episode 3: Time to meet Group B! (Commentary & Guesses)

Hello fellow humans! Welcome (or welcome back) to Ana’s Masked Singer recap, where I recap and talk about this show called The Masked Singer if you wanna stick around for that. So, this time around, we get to meet the other group, Group B, who we might not see again for 2 weeks, since we are going to see group A perform again this upcoming week with a new wildcard, Pepper. Anyways, let’s get started with the recap:

Group B was introduced and they consisted of Dalmatian 🐶, Queen of Hearts 🫀, Mallard 🦆, Cupcake 🧁, and Banana Split 🍌🍦. They performed, and one was eliminated unfortunately, let’s start with that…

So the contestant that was eliminated/revealed first in Group B was:

Dalmatian 🐶

Performance Commentary: ok, so I wasn’t super surprised by this elimination honestly, I expected it since he was the weakest vocally of this group. He sang Beautiful by Snoop Dogg ft Pharrell Williams and I gotta give him props for actually singing when most rappers just decide to only rap and not sing at all on this show. However, he did sound a bit like they put way too much of that auto tune stuff on his voice so it sounded like a robot him singing, which kinda made him the weakest link. However, his rapping was awesome (duh because that’s what he does professionally… and btw not spoiling who he is with that comment because when you hear the performance, you’ll know 100% it’s a rapper)

And he was revealed to be…

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

Tyga

Omg I knew it!! Thank you Twitter for helping me out, y’all are the best. I thought at first it might have been Chance the Rapper but then people started saying Tyga and I was like hmmm lemme see the clues, yup makes sense, well great segue (segway) Ana because imma show you some of the clues you might have missed:

Scream Poster= he was in the Scream series

Cat Doll= play on words because his name is Tyga (like Tiger… man these producers are really into puns, it’s kinda clever tho)

Was discovered by a big player= in 2007, he started doing mixtapes and he was discovered by Travie McCoy who offered him a record deal

Now, that we have that out of the way, let’s get into our remaining contestants (big warning: this group has left me all types of confused when it comes to guesses so I apologize if my arguments aren’t perfect with some of these):

1. Cupcake 🧁

Performance: This performance is so confusing to me. Idk if this is a man or woman, sometimes I think woman with deep voice and other times I am like no that’s a man. So I don’t know about this one, it’s a very good performance of Heat Wave by Martha and the Vandellas but I need to hear more because I am confused. I am in between a specific man or a specific woman but I am not sure so unfortunately for this one I don’t have a guess

Sorry y’all no guess for this one :(… hopefully, next time they perform I will have a better idea*

*(I will say the guess I am leaning towards that a few people have said *just in case the cupcake leaves next* is Ruth Pointer from the Pointer Sisters because there were supposed to be multiple cupcakes and not just one, and in the PKG, cupcake said they were used to being in a group)

2. Banana Split 🍌🍦

Performance: They were 1000% my favorite performance of the night even though only Split/Ice Cream sang A Million Dreams from the Greatest Showman. She is amazing, I absolutely love her, she has that iconic Broadway sound that I absolutely adore. Just her singing this makes me so confident on who she is omg I’m stoked!

Having said that, I am so positive, like way too certain none of y’all will convince me otherwise like Todrick level confidence they are…

Katherine McPhee and David Foster

Ok, so you guys are probably like “Ana, how can you be so sure if the damn banana didn’t even sing a note, he just played the piano?!” Well, my friends, you have a point, but I know who she is and honestly I don’t even care if I am wrong ab him (I won’t know for sure until he sings a note) but HER I am absolutely positive….and they are a married couple and the banana has heart eyes so in my head it makes sense with the clues too, but before I go to the clues, I have a funny story on how I know who Ms. Katherine McPhee is… so like I was watching this performance and was like omg her voice Sound so familiar! Where have I heard her before?! This is driving me nuts… And then I saw people on YouTube saying that it’s them and I was like wait Katherine McPhee that name sounds so familiar. Then I looked her up and I found out that I knew who she was because I randomly watched a show on Netflix called Country Comfort (which side note: LeAnn Rimes or the Sun from Season 4 guest starred on that show and LeAnn’s husband stars in it… so connection there?), which to explain the show briefly it’s literally the Nanny but with country music and in Tennessee instead of NY. Anyways, she sang a lot on that show and it clicked, I was like BINGO OMG THAT IS HER IT CANNOT BE ANYONE ELSE (similar to how I felt about Todrick being the bull when I saw that damn sneak peak performance). Anyway ya, that was unnecessarily long, now onto the clues:

She left school to move to the city= she attended Boston Conservatory for 3 semesters and left to move to LA to try out for TV pilots

Thought she got her big break, but it wasn’t it= she got an MTV soap opera plot but it never made it to air

Collaborator who sticks with me through sweet and sour= they have known each other ever since she was on the 5th season of American Idol in 2006 and their collaboration is that he is a music producer and she sings (on American Idol, he would play the piano while she sang… does this sound familiar to you guys yet? Ringing any bells? If not, rewatch the performance Banana Split did)

3. Queen of Hearts 🫀

Performance: She sang Born This Way by Lady Gaga and I already knew she was going to be good, but this was like Black Swan all over again. This beginning song wasn’t the best for her voice, but she had fun and she did the damn thing. Closest Lady Gaga singing impression I’ve seen, but I am positive it ain’t Lady Gaga. Also, she slayed that ending.

Ok, so I am not too sure about this guess but after a bit of research and voice matching, I think it might be…

Jewel (the singer, not an actual jewel)

Again I say, with a bit of research, I feel like she’s the closest guess I can give you guys especially matching the singing voices, but let’s look at the clues:

Grew up in a house that lacked warmth= she grew up in Alaska (born in Utah)

Tin man from Wizard of Oz= she played Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz in Concert: Dreams Come True in 1995

Hilary Swank photo= Swank has a dog named Jewel (when I read this I laughed, wow Masked Singer really?! 😂😂)

4. Mallard 🦆

Performance: This performance was not my cup of tea tbh, it was real deep country which is not my jam at all. The song title says it all: Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) by Big & Rich. Like it was great no lie, but like I just don’t really enjoy that kinda music so it wasn’t for me.

Again, this one is a shot in the dark guess but I am gonna stick with it and it is the one I am leaning towards voice wise:

Willie Robinson (yes the guy from Duck Dynasty)

Ok, so again hear me out, this might sound stupid (and half of me thinks it is) but it kinda makes sense in a strange way especially looking at the clues:

Surrounded by dollar bills= Duck Dynasty merch raised a ton of bills

Photo of Chris Pratt= they worked together and became friends filming Jurassic World in 2014

Platinum Album= Has a certified platinum album “Duck the Halls: A Robertson Family Christmas” (I can’t believe this one, I was pretty surprised)

Anyways, that’s it! I can’t wait to see Group A next week.. again yeah but with Pepper this time so woohoo another Wildcard. I just hope we can see more of Group B too because it feels like too much of Group A is being seen. Anyways, see y’all next week with the recap for tomorrow’s episode! Bye guys! Remember to do all the social media things! Like, comment, follow me for more, all of that 👋🏼

[goldeneyedgirl]

JaliceWeek2020 Day 7

JaliceWeek2020 Day 7: Yeehaw/Western/Sheriff

Love & Duty

Notes: Okay, I’m pretty sure this isn’t nearly ‘cowboy’ enough, and I’ve already started an alternative piece, but I found an old tumblr post about how cowboys were just daytime witches, and I frickin’ loved it (I’ll link it in the morning) and my excitement got out of hand again. There’s definitely going to be more to this story, but separately. 

I also just wanted to prove to myself I could smash out two prompts in one day, honestly. I opted for quantity over quality, and I currently only have some regrets - 4.5 down, 3.5 to go. 

--

The old farmhouse sits outside Laredo, Texas. The wood has blackened from decades underneath the sun and seems to sink in on itself; the ground cracked and dry. The barn roof has caved in, obviously years before if the elaborate nest tucked at the edge is any indication. At the end of the drive, the sign once bore the name of the owners, but that name has long since faded into the wood.

It is an unwelcoming place, for any passerby or stranger - a house that actively discourages anyone from crossing the boundary, even if they never notice it.

But for those that sought it out, and for those few that lived there, it was very different.

���

It was a sacred duty, once upon a time - the Guardians of the Border, sent to protect and prevent the Southern Wars from spilling over from Mexico into America proper. For decades, girls from all the old families across the country were sent to Texas to run the Guard Houses, to protect and shield those. Back then, there were so many daughters that only the very best were accepted at the Border Guard Houses, most of them settled in the city houses, mixing the potions and preparing the weapons. Some girls were even sent home - there were only so many beds, after all.

And Texas remained well-guarded.

But time marches on. Vampire wars, human wars, they all have a death toll, and entire family lines died out. It became less of an honour, more of an obligation, and one that fell to the oldest daughter, or the oddest daughter, or the ugliest daughter. It became more important to keep the bloodlines strong than to protect the South from the never-ending Wars.

Mary-Alice Brandon was never surprised to be banished to Texas on her sixteenth birthday; she’d known her entire life she’d don the blacks and take up the mantle as six generations of Brandon witches had done before her. She was not good breeding stock, with her ‘visions’ and her temper and her complete disinclination to conform to her parents’ social obligations. Cynthia was a much better heiress, and so off to Texas Alice was sent, to three ancient ‘aunts’ who would train her in all she would need to know, having lived their entire lives defending the Laredo house.

The house wasn’t so bad, if you looked past the glamour. The house was in good repair, and the aunts maintained a lush garden out the back, of herbs and flowers. They had two strong horses - Hallow and Haven - and half a dozen well-pleased cats. Her own bedroom looked over the road, hidden only by the branches of an ancient willow tree. Of course, the aunts were strict teachers that expected impossible standards, and third-rate cooks. But no place was perfect, and at least here no one cared about manners or propriety.

But she missed the sunshine. That was one thing the aunts never budged on. “Day is for sleep.” And hell was raged over her head if she wasn’t tucked up tight in bed every morning before dawn, the curtains drawn tight and refusing to budge. Once every moon cycle, her aunts would have a dawn meeting with someone but she wasn’t allowed to join those until she was twenty one, when she formally became a Witch Guardian. Until then, she was just a handmaid and dogsbody.

Which is why she was up to her ankles in mud, trying to pry an overzealous hemlock plant from the ground because it was smothering the chamomile again, with nothing to light her work except the lanterns on the porch. And this was just the first of the positively irritating chores she had been assigned that night.

It was her own fault, really. She should have kept her nose out of the books, and maybe there’d be more lessons for her to finish.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, Alice glared viciously at the hemlock plant, and wondered if the aunts would consider it ‘inappropriate behaviour’ to curse the damn thing to burn.

“Mary-Alice!”

One of the aunts came dashing out of the backdoor - all three were fairly interchangeable, which felt like an uncharitable thought, but it was the  honest truth - looking more agitated than Alice had ever seen her.

“Yes, Auntie?”

“Get out of the mud, and go and fetch one of the horse,” the older woman said, buckling an over-stuffed messenger bag. “Be quick, girl. Change your boots, don’t worry about your dress.”

Struggling out of the garden and into the house to find her riding boots, Alice knotted her hair back before hurrying to the barn, where all three aunts were gathered, Hallow already saddled - she would have thought Haven a better choice, since Hallow was so big and she was not the strongest rider.

“You’re going to Del Rio, girl,” one of the aunts said, shoving over a mounting block with surprising strength. “One of our allies has suffered an injury and cannot be moved. Hallow should have you there by dawn.”

“Del Rio?” Alice couldn’t remember the last time she’d been into Laredo, let alone more than a hundred miles up the border.

“Yes. Now, they’re expecting you,” the second aunt said, taking her hand and half shoving her up and into Hallow’s saddle. “Everything you need is in the bag; there’s food and water for you, but you’ll need them to provide more for your return journey. Hallow knows the way; if you hit the yellow farmhouse, you’ve gone too far. There should be a scout waiting for you anyway, don’t worry. It’s a long trip, but it’s a good practice for you, and you’re a good, clean healer.”

“The boy’s in a bad way, so you best be off,” the final aunt said, looking grim. “Let us know how long you’ll be staying and when you set off home.”

“Okay,” Alice managed, a bit dazed from the amount of information she’d just been given.

“Blessed and safe journey, my dear,” the first aunt said, looking worried before Hallow decided they had lingered long enough, and moved out of the barn.

Alice suddenly regretted cursing the hemlock.

—

The ride was long and hard. She honestly regretted not getting changed into something more sensible - she’d learnt to ride as a girl English style, side-saddle, but the aunts had laughed at that particular pretension, and Western saddles and long skirts were not a winning combination.

The bag wasn’t heavy enough for any of them to have thought to pack her a clean dress, either, and she was truly wretched at cleaning spells. Perhaps the Del Rio coven could loan her a dress.

Hallow stopped some time after midnight, and she took that opportunity to eat - a floury apple, some dry bread, and cold chicken that was so well cooked it might as well have been ash. But it was food, and the urgency that she been sent off - alone - implied she didn’t have more than a few minutes to rest.

The rest of the trip felt long, and as pink and gold streaks began to hover at the horizon, Alice wondered if she’d taken too long - if the poor boy (boy? she’d never heard of a coven accepting a boy, but maybe the Guard Houses had decided to modernise) had already succumbed. But it wasn’t like she was provided with a map or proper direction…

It was dawn when Hallow began to slow, and she saw a man leaning against a signpost with an indecipherable sign, the road behind him leading to a fire-decimated house on a hill in the distance.

“Miss Brandon?” the man said, looking at her with suspicion before his eyes softened. “Ah, Hallow.” The horse clearly recognised him, nickering affectionately at the man.

“Yes, I am Miss Brandon. You are the scout from Del Rio?” she asked primly, as if she didn’t have mud on her face and dress and sleeves, and no hat.

“Yup. Come on, he’s in the house. I’m Peter,” the man said. “Budge up.”

Within seconds, Peter had swung himself onto Hallow behind her, and Alice gasped at the impropriety, but didn’t get a moment to say a word as Peter clicked and Hallow took off like a bullet.

As Hallow passed another sign that couldn’t be read, the fire-ruins shimmered before reforming into an expansive and well-lived farmhouse, with a large barn. Out the back, she could see pristine fields full of horses and cattle. It was like chalk and cheese from home, and for a moment, she was jealous.

As they stopped in front of the house, Peter slid off, and tied off Hallow’s bridle to the porch railing, reaching up to help her down.

“Quick now, one of the boys will come take care of Hallow, we need you to tend to Jasper now,” Peter said, half dragging her up the front stairs and into the house.

It felt like a bustle of activity, and was so bright and airy. The smell of fresh bread filtered through the house, and Alice couldn’t help but snatch a look as she was dragged deeper into the house.

“Char! The witching’s here!” Peter bellowed, and suddenly Alice was presented with a drawn-looking woman with strawberry-blonde hair.

“Oh, thank gods,” she said. “I’m Charlotte. Come with me. His fever keeps getting higher, and I’ve tried everything I know. We called out to everyone, but your aunt was the only one who got back to us.”

She was lead into a backroom, where a mattress was laid out on the floor, and the curtains were drawn. And in the middle of the room, moaning in pain and sweaty, was a tall man covered in scars.

Alice tried not to gasp. The scars were quite clearly vampire bites, healed ones. Covens had some natural immunity to vampire venom, but it only slowed down the process and allowed it to be reversed. There were dozens of stories of girls who couldn’t be saved, and had been burnt before the change could be completed. It was, unfortunately, one of the risks of their duty.

“He got ambushed,” Charlotte said, kneeling beside the man. “The harpy practically gutted him, but he got away okay.” She pulled back the sheet, to reveal an enormous wound that had been clumsily stitched, from the middle of his chest, slashing downward over his stomach to his hip. “It needs cauterising I think, but I’m no healer.”

Alice came back to herself then. Whatever was going on here - male Guardians, this untrained woman, all the bite marks - could be questioned after this poor man - Jasper, had Peter called him? - was treated.

Dropping to her knees, Alice quickly inspected Charlotte’s stitching of the wound. “It will need cauterising, it’s too deep,” she determined quickly. “And treatment for infection, but stitching it was a smart thing to do.” Charlotte looked relieved. “Did he get bitten?”

“His arms,” Peter said, and Charlotte quickly pulled off bandages, already blackening from the venom. Three bites on one arm, four on the other. Bad, bad business.

“Okay. Do you have a smock, and a place I can wash up?” she said, standing quickly. Walking into a sick room in her filthy clothes and boots had been a stupid thing to do, but nothing for it now.

“Of course - show her the bathroom, Peter,” Charlotte darted out.

Within moments, Alice had a smock over her underthings and a pair of borrowed slippers - Charlotte promising to wash her dress immediately - and she’d scrubbed every visible inch of her skin as fast as she could, her hair pinned under a kerchief.

It was a very, very long day. The bites had to be purified, cleaned, and bandaged to draw out as much venom as possible; the bandages had to be changed four times every day, to prevent the venom lingering against the skin. Jasper had to be fed the tonic that the aunts had sent every two hours to flush any venom that had already ended his system. Then she had to treat the fever, to lesson his evident discomfort, and treat the infection that had clearly set into the wound Charlotte had stitched, whilst reassuring Charlotte that it was nothing actively wrong that she’d done, just the unlucky result of riding home with an open wound.

But by the time night fell, Jasper was somewhat more comfortable - the moaning had stopped, and with a generous dose of pain and sleep tonic, he seemed to actually be sleeping.

Alice wished she could.

Instead, she changed his bandages again before finding herself in the kitchen, with Charlotte piling plates with food.

“We heard from the others,” she said, taking her own seat. “Days away, Carlisle is furious. Emmett’s already on his way back with Rosalie, but they won’t make it here for at least a week.” Charlotte looked exhausted. “At least they’ll bring supplies.”

“What’s done is done,” Peter said smartly, watching Alice as she began to eat, exhaustion in every one of her motions. “Jasper will be okay now, yes?”

Alice looked up. “Well,” she began, and sighed. “There were so many bites,” she managed, trying to be kind. “And he’s been bitten before - even one previous bite decreases the effectiveness of treatment. I swear I am doing everything I can possibly do.”

“You’re young, yes?” Peter shot back. “Not even a full Guardian yet?”

“Peter!” Charlotte scolded.

“No, I’m not of age yet. My title does not affect my ability - I have been trained. I have completed my lessons. There is nothing I can think of that I am not already doing,” Alice retorted.

“And we are grateful,” Charlotte broke in.

“Yup, I’m positive Jasper would be thrilled that his life is in the hands of a schoolgirl,” Peter muttered before getting up from the table and storming away.

Alice was too tired to be angry, and just sighed and went back to her food - Charlotte was far and away a better cook than the aunts; perhaps a week of edible food, and she’d be filling out her dresses properly.

“I’m sorry, Peter and Jasper… they’re like brothers. They’ve been together for years,” Charlotte said, looking at her plate. “…Please, please don’t let Peter’s rudeness dissuade you from helping Jasper…”

Alice looked up in shock. “No. No, of course not. I understand his frustration, I do. And there’s nothing he could say to me that would make me treat Jasper any less, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte smiled, and began to clear the table. “The guest room is at the top of the stairs, I’ve laid out a nightgown for you, and some towels. Peter’s taken care of your horse, and I’m sure…”

“That’s very kind of you,” Alice said gently, “but I’ll sit up with Jasper tonight; he’ll need watching.”

“Could I help at all? Watch him in shifts?” Charlotte asked, but Alice could see the exhaustion and worry in every line of the woman’s face. If they weren’t careful, Charlotte would fall ill too and she’d have two patients.

“No, it has to be me, to make sure the bites are clean and the tonic takes. We’ll have a better idea of how he is tomorrow, though,” Alice offered. “I would like to bathe, though, if you could watch him?”

“Oh, of course - there’s a washroom in the guest room,” Charlotte said, gesturing to the stairs. “Thank you, Alice. I mean it. Thank you for coming, I feel like everything is going to be okay now that you’re here.”

—

It was a long night, with exhaustion setting in for Alice - she hadn’t slept in over a day, had ridden half-way up the border… she felt like an old woman. But it was her duty. And she would do it to the best of her ability.

Charlotte had leant her several dresses, and it was quite strange to wear a colour that wasn’t black or grey, but a welcome novelty, even if the dresses were a size too big.

Settling beside the sickbed, Alice administered the tonic every two hours, and found herself changing the bandages obsessively, as soon as she saw or smelt the venom. She flushed out the bite wounds - one would need stitching. She’d have to cauterise the chest wound first thing in the morning; his fever still lingered, but the tonics and potions seemed to have had a powerful effect on the infection, with the red veins having already retreated.

Though, she might have to teach Charlotte how to administer stitches whilst she was here. The woman was clearly unfamiliar with stitching flesh. Maybe some rudimentary treatments so that they didn’t have to wait twelve hours for help.

The aunts had packed her two new books to read - purely educational, histories of the coven, that were not even a little bit relevant in her current situation, or interesting. But they did keep her awake.

Morning came, and Jasper’s fever had broken. She nearly cheered at that, and when Peter and Charlotte burst in at dawn, she gave them the good news. She thought that Peter was going to cry - Charlotte certainly did. But then she required the couple hold him down as she cauterised the chest wound.

Charlotte ended up vomiting at the smell, and Peter looked at little woozy, but at least he was held together with more than embroidery thread now. She quickly applied a fresh layer of ointment that smelt like mint and tea leaves to the raw wound and bound up his chest up in fresh bandages. At least Charlotte had the practicality of preparing an immense quantity of fresh, sterile bandages that looked like they been cut from good quality bed linens or petticoats.

The day moved slowly; Charlotte brought her meals in on a tray, and sat with Jasper whilst she changed her dress again, and sent a message to the aunts. Peter was very respectful around her, and brought her anything she asked for - purified water, feverfew, lavender, aloe vera. Jasper seemed to sleep more comfortably each day, as she fed him cold tea laced with every possible tonic and potion she had in her bag and could create from scratch. His bite marks were cleared every day, settling into fresh scar tissue. She was genuinely sorry that they had scarred, but there was nothing for it.

But only time would tell if the venom had made it to his heart.

—

Seven days. She had been at the Del Rio house for seven days and seven nights. Jasper had passed out of danger, and was now just healing, though he hadn’t regained consciousness. But Alice continued to nurse him, as was her duty and purpose here. She fed him careful sips of tea and then herbal broth, to build up his strength and hopefully reinforce his immunity; she rubbed ointments into his new wounds to keep the skin supple and preveshe lnt thick scar tissue and ease any discomfort. She helped Charlotte wash and dress him as soon as she deemed it safe.

That she had not been expecting. She hoped her poker face was good, because she’d really never seen a man’s body before. Not like that - she was only nineteen, had lived with the aunts since she was sixteen and had never been courted. Even her lessons had been done on whatever animals they could hunt or trade for from the market, not really humans. And this man, he was… handsome. He was tall and just the right amount of muscular and tan and, she shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

She couldn’t even imagine her embarrassment if this Jasper had seen her in such a way.

Oh, she was definitely sleep deprived. She had yet to sleep a single second in the guest room, snatching cat naps in the corner of Jasper’s sick room when she couldn’t hold her eyes open a single moment longer.

Which was what she was doing now. She twisted her neck uncomfortably; she’d been sleeping at a funny angle, she’d be feeling that all day. Stretching out, she looked over at her patient, only to see Jasper staring back at her curiously.

“Oh my gods!” Alice gasped, scrambling over. “You’re awake? How are you feeling? How long have you been awake?”

She quickly helped him sit up, reading for the water cup on the beside table. He took two deep swallows before coughing.

“Oh, it’s got lemon and mint in it, for healing,” she explained. “It’s helped, I promise. Hopefully we can get you back to normal drinking water and food tomorrow.”

“Who are you?” croaked Jasper, looking up at her with glazed eyes.

“Oh. Um, I’m Alice Brandon. From the Laredo Guard House,” she said, embarrassed. She was acting like a bumbling sixteen year old trainee, not a proper Guardian. “I was summoned when you were wounded.”

“Alice Brandon from Laredo,” Jasper repeated, a quirk of his lips. “Thank you.” His energy seemed to drain out of him all at once - totally normal for the severity of his wounds and his recovery.

“It was nothing,” she said. “Sleep now. It’s a great healer. Charlotte and Peter will be awake in a few hours.”

He nodded half-heartedly before he closed his eyes again, and Alice sat backwards. He was okay. Two blue eyes without a hint of red, talking and lucid, and drinking easily. She did it.

He lived.

—

Both Peter and Charlotte had wept when they realised that Jasper was conscious again, and Peter had nearly tackled the man when he saw Jasper sitting up, drinking water and talking to Alice, trying to piece together what had happened to him, and to learn how she had treated him - the Del Rio Guard House had fallen to the Whitlock-Hales several generations ago, and many of the old skills - like healing - had been lost.

In fact, it was only him, Peter, and Charlotte who were at the house full-time now - they hired local boys to help out on the ranch that funded the Del Rio clan. Jasper’s own sister and brother-in-law visited regularly, as did various other friends and allies, “but none of us are witchlings,” he coughed. “We were raised in the sun, not in the night.”

She smiled at reference to the old rhyme. “Even your sister?” she asked; girls were kept to the night, boys to the day. Old attitudes that had held true - girls were protected and cloistered (and much less likely to be caught poisoning or cursing) in the darkness. Their herbs and plants bloomed and grew so much harder under the moon than the sun. But boys, they were the fighters, the warriors, and battle against vampires and other dark creatures was best done when there was no darkness to escape into.

“Even my sister,” Jasper had smiled. “Rose would have made a horrible healer - punched me in the arm and told me to ‘man up’ the first time I fell off a horse; my arm was broken. She’s not nearly as committed as I am, but she helps. Her husband’s good at it too, he just married into the madness.” He spoke about his family with such affection, Alice felt a little jealous, but before she could ask any other questions, Charlotte and Peter were there, Jasper just as pleased to see them as they were to see him.

Alice slipped out to give them privacy - a bath and a clean dress sounded heavenly right now, and she ought to send another message to the aunts. She’d help Jasper wash and change afterwards, and hopefully be able to move him from the sick room to his usual quarters with fresh sheets. He’d sleep more comfortably in his own bed.

By lunchtime, Jasper was safely ensconced in his own bed, in a room that overlooked the a paddock of horses. He’d eaten some broth and drunk as many cups of herbal tea as Alice could press on him, as she fussed around. Peter had headed off to get ranch work done, and Charlotte had taken up a vigil at Jasper’s bedside with some sewing.

“Alice, please, you don’t have to do anything of that,” Charlotte laughed as Alice began folding clothing. “You should rest - you must be exhausted.” Turning to Jasper, she continued, “I don’t think she’s rested this entire time - she sat with you every night, didn’t even wake us to help change your bandages. She insisted Peter and I sleep.”

“Oh, I’m up at night anyway,” Alice laughed. “And I’m here to help.”

Jasper was watching her carefully now.

“She hasn’t stopped at all. I cannot imagine how efficient the Laredo House is,” Charlotte shook her head. “Though, I’m sure having proper recruits makes a difference.”

Alice shook her head, as she reached out to plump a pillow behind Jasper’s head. “Oh, it’s just me and the aunts,” she said airily. “All the old families are dying out, and, well, it’s not exactly a glamorous position. I knew I’d be sent to Laredo since I was very small, so I suppose my mother and father prepared me for it.”

“It sounds lonely,” Jasper said quietly.

And it was. She always tried to think of the positives, that she had her own bedroom, and she got to learn so quickly and do hands on practice much more quickly, and there were practically no chores but she had still been alone there for three and a half years. No companions, just duty. It hadn’t felt quite as bad until she’d come here, to this bright, happy place with sweet Charlotte and practical Peter and handsome Jasper…

“It’s home,” she finally said, honestly. “But I will take you up on that offer for a rest. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to wake me.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Jasper said.

“See that you do - you’re my first official patient, and it would look terrible if you died when I was napping,” Alice teased, before slipping out of the room. She could sleep, finally.

—

The next week and a half fell into a routine. Jasper regained his strength surprisingly quickly, and went from being bedridden to eating meals in the kitchen with them all, to back on his horse - an enormous brown beast named Duke - within the week, though he did seem to tire quickly.

He took to showing her their operation - the wall of blessed weapons in the barn and in the house, the modified saddles to carry the weapons, the horses carefully trained to protect their rider and be desensitised to the presence of vampires.

It turned out that Charlotte was a newcomer, a local girl raised as a kitchen-witch whose brother had worked on the ranch. Charlotte had fallen quite hard for Peter, to hear Jasper tell it, and hadn’t flinched when she realised she’d married into a quasi-family of cowboy vampire hunters. She had started a small greenhouse with many common herbs that was a good start, but Alice knew that they needed something a little more robust for their ‘business’. She immediately promised Jasper to write them a list of additions they needed - and send them seeds and samples - and their purpose as soon as she was back in Laredo.

It was all very pleasant, but Alice realised quickly that Jasper was, for all intents and purposes, healed. She had no place here any longer; his sister would arrive soon, and he had no use of a nurse or witching now. She needed to leave.

She announced those plans at dinner that night, as Charlotte presented another one of her delightful spreads.

“I’m going to miss this,” she said ruefully, as they all dug in. “The aunts cannot cook at all.”

“Miss this?” Charlotte asked innocently, passing out hot rolls.

“Jasper is healed,” Alice smiled, trying to keep her voice upbeat. “Your recovery will continue, and you should be conservative about what you take on for a months or two, but you have no need for me any longer. I should return home first thing tomorrow.”

Everyone froze.

“So soon?” Jasper managed, almost looking… hurt?

“The aunts need me. They’re elderly,” Alice explained, “and it’s where I belong.”

Silence.

“Well, we’re mighty grateful you came all the way out here for us,” Peter said. “We’d all be happy to see you around here again.”

“Ah, but that would mean one of you was hurt, and that would be acceptable,” Alice teased. “You’ve been very kind to me. If I could trouble you for some food for the trip home, Charlotte…”

“Oh, of course,” Charlotte nodded. Jasper was focused on his potatoes and not looking at anyone. “You must stay in touch, yes? It’s been so nice having another woman here.”

“Of course,” Alice gushed, trying to ignore the reaction she knew the aunts would have if she started using the messaging system for socialising. “I’m going to be lost without you!”

“You’re not the only one,” Peter murmured, and Alice chose not to pull at that thread, and instead turned the conversation to Jasper’s sister’s arrival and tried not to dread the next morning.

—

It was a moment of weakness when she waited til Jasper was downstairs helping Peter wash up, when she slipped the medallion into his cowboy boots. He’d never feel the tiny silver charm, blessed with protection and a long life, but it would keep him safe.

She tried to convince herself it was because he probably wouldn’t survive another bite, but it didn’t work.

—

She left just before dawn, once again clad in her blacks - freshly washed and mended by Charlotte - and Jasper was waiting there, holding Hallow’s bridle as she walked out, Charlotte’s food tucked into her bag.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, realising Hallow was saddled and ready to leave.

“I wanted to.” He looked her up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Alice smiled - her black lace dress, from ankle to wrist to throat - was practically her uniform; she had four more just like it hanging in her wardrobe at home. Any particular beauty in the garment had faded the one hundredth time she wore it.

Jasper stepped closer to her; standing on the second step of the porch, they were nearly eye-to-eye.

“I never truly thank you for what you did for me - Peter and Charlotte filled me in,” he continued.

“It was truly nothing, it was what I was born for,” she said, wondering if it was Jasper’s proximity that was making her so warm, or if summer was coming early.

Jasper just stared at her and all of a sudden his lips were on hers.

She had never been kissed before, not even once, and it was… unexpected. Within a moment, Jasper deepened it, and she was properly clinging to his strong shoulders and oh, how could he do such a thing to her when she was about to leave?

Pulling back slowly, Jasper ducked his head. “I just wanted to do that once,” he murmured. “I couldn’t let you walk away without…”

“I can’t,” Alice whispered, somehow unable to pull away. “I… I’m not allowed. I would have to recant my vows, and the aunts have no one else to take on the Laredo house… I just can’t.”

Jasper looked at her. “That seems cruel,” he said in a low voice. “Looking after some old ladies until they die, then being left alone without being allowed anything more.”

“It’s how things are done,” Alice took a shaking breath. “I’m sorry. Please thank Charlotte and Peter for their hospitality.”

And with that, Alice took Hallow’s bridle from Jasper and mounted her horse, leaving for the Laredo house, trying to drag her mind away from what was behind her, from the first (and likely the only) kiss she had ever been given. From the way he looked at her, like she hung the moon.

She was, in all probability, never going to see him again. And that was how it was supposed to be.

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 18

Short and sweet today because I’m drowning in work! I will update the Masterlist later, I promise! But if you jump down like 2 posts, the link will be there (I know, I’m so lazy, it would have been faster to copy the link rather than type all of this, oops! xD) I’m a weirdo, I know!

Btw, if anyone wants to be tagged when I upload a new chapter, please just say so! I’d be more than happy too! And as promise, here’s my first tag: @tillyrubes10 I hope you love this new chapter! :D

CHAPTER 18

Sidetracking

Sunday was a blurred mix of images in Celaena’s mind, and she wasn’t sure what had been real, and what had been a dream. Waking up in a stranger’s room, she started piecing all the bits of information together, trying to collect as many facts as she could about her situation.

She got up from the bed and had a drink of water from the bedside table. There were a couple of blisters with painkillers, and she decided to take just one more to blur the pain and help her focus. She was done with feeling weak and useless. Her phone was also on the night table, connected to a charger on the wall that wasn’t her own; she was surprised to find it there as she couldn’t remember asking for one. 

Looking down at herself, she laughed; she was wearing a pair of male pajama pants with drawings of dinosaurs in all colors and shapes. After checking her phone, she started rushing around and picking up the few belongings that were scattered around the room, and throwing them back into her duffle bag. If she wanted to make it in time to go to school, she’d have to go back to the hotel to get her uniform, shower, get changed, and apply a ton of makeup. Probably too much makeup. Time was barely on her side. 

She looked around the room until she finally found a small mirror on the inside of the closet’s door. She looked pale, and the cut on her brow was still swollen, the skin around it was a mixture of green, yellow and purple. She rolled her sore shoulders and then lifted her top to look at the long cut on top of her hip bone; the skin around it felt a little tight, but the redness had almost disappeared and the stitches looked good.

As she heard voices outside the room, she hurried to her bag, grabbed her contacts, and put them on using the small mirror again. Her eyes were still sore from wearing the contacts for way longer than she was supposed to and sleeping with them the night before, but she added some eye drops and hoped it’d do for the moment. She barely remembered taking them off on Sunday and hoped she hadn’t been stupid enough to let any of the guys see her eyes. 

Not like they could make anything out of it anyway. 

A knock sounded at her door, and it slid open slowly almost as soon as she reached the handle.

“You’re up early,” Fenrys said, sounding surprised.

“Yes, I’m feeling way better.” 

“You’re leaving,” he said as his eyes darted around the room and focused on her bag. It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.

“I am, I need to head to school.” She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The pain was certainly still messing with her mind, she normally wouldn’t have been so stupid to let such a big piece of information slip out of her mouth.

Fenrys’ eyes didn’t give much away, but his smirk did. “School, huh? Why don’t you join us for breakfast before you go? Connall’s making eggs, and he’s a fine cook.”

“I don’t really have time for-”

“I insist,” Fenrys hooked an arm around her and ushered her out of the room. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t feed you, right? You haven’t eaten pretty much anything in two days, you need your strength back.” He might have noticed her body going tense at the contact because he let go of her almost as fast as he had grabbed her. “Please?” He added with pleading eyes.

Begrudgingly, she walked with him down the hall and towards the kitchen. It was probably a good idea to gather some information on these people before leaving anyway, and she was famished. 

The open plan lounge was small but practical. To her left, there was a couch in front of a small TV that had some blankets and a pillow on top, and two small armchairs. And to the right, a small kitchen and a table with four chairs around it. Connall was cooking on the stove, his back to them, and he barely looked over his shoulder as they walked into the room. 

“Morning, brother!” Fenrys chanted happily.

“Hm, morning,” Celaena said, feeling slightly uncomfortable but slowly slipping into the character she had to play. 

“Come on, let’s grab a seat,” Fenrys pointed to a chair, and she took a seat, looking around the room discreetly.

“So, it’s just the three of you living here?” She asked, pretending to make small talk.

“Yes, it is. So glad to see that you’re off your defensive horse.”

Celaena glared at him and then softened her look. “I apologize if I caused you any inconveniences or if I was rude. If I’m honest, my memories from what’s happened in the last day and a half are a bit hazy, but I know I owe you one; the stitches look great.”

Fenrys’ smile spread wide on his face as he looked at her up and down as if trying to check how well she was feeling. 

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you're feeling better. You have some color back on your cheeks... If you wanted to pay me back, you could always stay for a while longer, so I can make sure you’re properly healed.”

“I do feel almost back to my normal self,” Celaena shook her head, and Fenrys sighed as he smiled warmly at her.

“You are so much stronger than what meets the eyes, you know that, right? I think you might be the bravest teen I have ever encountered, you almost had those guys back at the alley.” He said encouragingly. 

Connall came over with two plates full of scrambled eggs and toast then, and put one in front of each of them, then returned to the stove and came back a moment later with his own plate, and a tray full of crispy bacon. Celaena was glad for the interruption as everybody looked at the food in awe.

“Bon appétit," Fenrys lifted a glass of orange juice as if doing a toast.

“Thanks, Connall, and thank you too, Fenrys.”

“Eat up,” Fenrys grabbed a forkful of eggs, and Celaena followed suit.

The eggs were delicious, and considering how hungry she was, she ate her whole plate without paying much attention to anything going on around her. Once she was done, she looked up, only to find both Fenrys and Connall staring at her.

“Do you want some more?” Connall asked jokingly, a half-smile showing on his face for the first time.

“Is there any more?” She asked softly, making both brothers laugh. Connall went over to the counter and returned with a new plate full of eggs and fresh bread.

“It was meant to be for Rowan, but he’s taking too long on the 24/7, so you can have it. I’ll make him more later.” He slid the plate in front of her, and Celaena grabbed a mouthful of egg, aware of Fenrys’ eyes still on her.

“So, school, huh?”

She looked up at him through her lashes and shook her head.

“I think you’re smart enough to know I won't tell you anything about it.”

Fenrys’ laughed out loud while Connall collected the empty plates and headed towards the sink. There were only a bunch of schools in the city, but they were enough for them to have to actively search if they wanted to find out which one she attended. 

“Girl, I don’t even know your name.”

“And that’s how it’s meant to remain. I need to leave, and you should forget any of this ever happened.”

“Are you sure you're feeling good enough to leave? I honestly don’t think you should be going to school, you need to rest and take care of those stitches. Do I need to remind you that you lost a lot of blood?”

“Trust me, I remember.”

Her eyes dropped back down to her plate as she ate slower now, the memories of everything that had happened catching back with her. She had been careless and stupid, she should have never allowed Cain to get so close to her, to make her so vulnerable. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was lucky Fenrys had seen them and stepped in; she didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if he didn’t.

When they heard the front door open, they both turned around and found Rowan standing under the threshold, his hands full of grocery bags.

“What the fuck is this?” He dropped the bags to the floor and slammed the door shut behind him.

Celaena jumped to her feet on instinct, and Fenrys walked forward, standing almost in front of her. “What’s wrong, Rowan?”

“What’s wrong?” Rowan yelled back. He stormed towards them and pushed Fenrys with a palm against his chest. “Couldn’t you have given her any other fucking seat?”

Celaena watched them confused as Fenrys’ expression changed, his eyes dropping and his palms raising. “I’m sorry mate, I didn’t… didn’t think about it.”

Rowan’s cheeks were bright red, one fist clenched by his side, and the other grabbing a fistful of Fenrys’ shirt. Celaena cleared her throat lightly, and Rowan turned to her as if remembering she was standing there. His eyes traveled down to the pajama pants she was wearing, and if she didn’t know the guy better, she would have thought his eyes were filling up with tears. He let go of Fenrys and, pushing him to the side, stormed towards the hallway.

“Fuck.” Fenrys ran after him, leaving Celaena standing on the spot, speechless and confused. He disappeared down the hall, and then she heard the knocking on a door, a door opening and closing, and muffled yelling as Fenrys and Rowan argued behind closed doors, possibly in Rowan’s bedroom. 

Connall showed up by her side, and she looked at him questioningly. “What was that about?” He shook his head and pointed to the bags by the door.

“Help me with the groceries.”

She followed him as they picked up the bags, took them to the kitchen counter, and started unpacking all the food. They worked in silence for a while, the muffled argument in the distance going quieter and quieter until Connall sighed and looked at her. 

“You were sitting on her seat,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Who’s seat?”

“Rowan’s ex.”

“Oh, okay.” Confused, Celaena got a bunch of bananas out of a bag and passed them over to Connall, who set them on a fruit bowl and turned around to get some cans out of another bag. 

“So, what’s the deal? Is the seat sacred or something?” She grabbed the last of the apples from the bag and set them on the fruit bowl. Connall poked his head out of the pantry, looking at her with his characteristic nonchalant expression.

“She’s dead.”

Celaena’s jaw dropped, Connall’s head disappeared back behind the pantry’s door, and as if on queue, Rowan walked into the room. There was an awkward silence as Celaena held an empty bag in her hands, and Rowan just stood there in front of the hallway door, looking at her. As she opened her mouth to say something, anything, Fenrys showed up behind Rowan and set a hand hard on his shoulder.

“My mate here wanted to apologize for overreacting,” he said, a huge smile on his face. Rowan scoffed and rolled his eyes, but then looked at her, nodding lightly.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” Rowan said, nonchalant.

“And… for being a moody prick?” Fenrys spur him on, making Rowan roll his eyes again.

“And for being a moody prick.” Rowan’s right corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Apology accepted.” Celaena had to admit, she almost liked Fenrys and his way of dealing with things. But her time was over, and she needed to hurry and head to the hotel if she wanted to have enough time to do her makeup. There was probably no useful information within the apartment, nothing worth her time. “Now, it’s my time to head out.”

“Don’t forget to return Rowan his pajamas before you go.” Fenrys winked at her, and Celaena darted out of the kitchen, pushing the guys to the side as she passed the door and headed back to the bedroom. Rowan’s pajamas? She remembered then, barely, how Rowan had given her some of his clothes the day before. Had he been in the bathroom with her? She shook her head dismissing the crazy memory of Rowan helping her, that part surely must have been a dream. 

Celaena got her bag, and as she was about to head out of the room, her phone rang. It was Sam’s name on the screen.

“Cortland.”

“Hey, you’ve been MIA this weekend, I expected to hear more about the fight. Should I pop into the hotel before school?”

“I don’t think so, I’m running late and will be just in time for class.”

“Oh, okay. Any new developments I should hear about? I’ve heard from Arobynn, he’ll be out of town all week again, I think he’s headed over to Terrasen.”

“Not much, really. Look, can’t talk right now, gotta go.” She hung up, fixed her bag over her shoulder, and walked towards the lounge. 

All three flatmates were sitting on the couches as she approached. “Okay, thanks for your hospitality, but I guess this is goodbye.”

As Fenrys stood up, a loud knock sounded on the front door. Fenrys’ eyes widened, Rowan jumped to his feet, and Connall raised his eyebrows.

“You,” Fenrys mouthed to Rowan as he pointed at her. 

Rowan walked quickly to her side and pushed her gently with a hand in the small of her back. He led her towards the room on the back of the hall as she heard Fenrys calling ‘coming’ while he walked loudly around the lounge.

Rowan left the door ajar as he leaned in, his ear against the gap. 

“Hey, how can I help you?” Fenrys’ voice reached them from the entrance.

“I have a message for you all,” an unknown male voice replied. It sounded deep but young.

“What is Lorcan Salvaterre doing here?” Rowan murmured to himself, and Celaena stepped back, the school database popping in her head as the name rang a bell.