#these chapters are the STRUGGLE y'all

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

Volume One Book Five reaction images

[disposal-blueeee]

no bg ver because i once AGAIN added too many details and thet got lost with everything else

[wayfinderships]

Good morning gamers!! Hope you're all doing well! As for me, I'm thinking about this bastard again-

[more-better-words]

Want to write, but also want to nap 😭

[adrift-in-thyme]

Give the Lion Fangs update incoming

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: chapter twelve

i recommend reading these first. thanks again to @romeoandjulietyouwish for just being rad and cool and great.

also, in case you missed it, i wrote a sexy one-shot that takes place before the start of mfl and is separate from the plot so you can read it whenever if you want to!

Syngorn, like the Ashari Nation, is more skeptical of arcane magics than their divine counterparts, which is why the citadel explodes into a flurry of activity when Lady Allura pops into existence in the middle of the grand foyer with a small posse in tow. The group is immediately surrounded by shouting Syngornian guards, who retrieve Percy from his chambers to verify the sudden arrivals' identities and vouch for their trustworthiness.

Allura smiles sheepishly at him when he arrives. "My apologies, Percival, but it seemed time was of the essence."

Percy sketches a bow to her and the others. "Not to worry. We're all...understandably on edge." He makes his own apologies to their Syngornian hosts before leading the way up to the Ashari wing of the citadel. "Security has been heightened, of course, after the attack, and the Ashari and Draconian delegations are being kept apart while the matter is being investigated. We are to remain in our designated wing unless our presence is requested elsewhere."

"Great," Lady Kima grumbles. "I love being cooped up."

"Is there still need for healing?" Pike asks, jogging to keep up with everyone. "I'd be happy to help where I can."

Percy smiles down at his old friend. "I think the sovereign has a particular duty in mind for you, Pike."

There's a half-elven man in the group that Percy doesn't recognize. He asks, "I was informed I'd be assigned to the princess's detail. Am I to go to her now?"

"This is Derrig," Kima explains, "one of our best fighters. Now that the war is over—or not, but you know what I mean—I figured we could spare him for the increased security the sovereign requested."

Percy nods. "Wonderful." He turns into the hall that houses the sovereign's quarters. "You'll meet with the sovereign first, Derrig, to get your orders. Then I can take you to where the princess is staying."

The guards outside the sovereign's chambers recognize Percy as he arrives and open the doors for the newcomers to enter. As they do, Percy grabs the last one's wrist and pulls her behind, ducking into a small alcove away from prying eyes. "Vex'ahlia."

"Percy." She throws her arms around him, pulling him tight. His arms snake around her waist, and for the first time in days, he feels his muscles relax. "Thank the gods you're alright."

He presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm so very glad you weren't here."

"Sounds like I missed a hell of a party." She pulls back and lays a hand on his face. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I am well and fine, Vex'ahlia, I promise."

"And my brother? How has he fared?"

Percy hesitates. "He was uninjured in the attack. He is with the princess now." Her face darkens, and Percy continues, "Be easy on him. They have both had quite a trying few days."

Vex sighs but nods all the same. "I best go in and speak to the sovereign." She turns as if to leave the alcove, but then turns back, grabs Percy by the face, and kisses him breathless. His brain freezes, shorted by the suddenness, but just as quickly as it started, the kiss is over, and Vex is gone, sauntering back toward the sovereign's chambers, and Percy is left stunned, not for the first time, by this whirlwind of a woman.

.

There's a knock at the door, and Keyleth flinches. She hates this, the lingering tension in the air after yesterday's assault on the citadel. She closes the book she'd been reading on a little window seat and watches Vax creak the door open. "Who—Pickle?"

"Hey, Vax!"

"Pike?" Keyleth stands as Pike pushes in past Vax, an unfamiliar man edging in just behind her. Pike starts to bow, but Keyleth sweeps her up in a hug. "You're here!"

Pike laughs. "Of course I'm here!" When Keyleth sets her back down, she turns to give Vax a punch on the arm. "Seems like you've earned your paycheck this week, friend."

"I'm trying." Vax hasn't taken his eyes off the half-elf now in the room with them.

"Princess Keyleth, this is Derrig." Pike gestures back at the man, who bows low. "The sovereign has assigned him to your protection detail."

Keyleth can practically see Vax's hackles raise. "It's very nice to meet you, Derrig. Your name is familiar; you fought with the Blades, is that right?"

"Yes, Your Highness." His tone is calm and confident. "It is an honor to be chosen by the sovereign for such an important assignment." He turns to look at Vax, who is still inspecting him skeptically. "I understand that we are to be working together?"

Vax nods. "The sovereign has instructed me to not leave the princess's side for any reason, which...limits what I can see and hear outside these chambers. That's where you come in."

"Fair enough."

Pike turns to Derrig. "Well, you've been introduced, but I've got business with the princess, so, um, get out."

Keyleth blinks in surprise at Pike's abruptness, but Derrig doesn't seem to mind it. He bows again and leaves the room. Vax places himself just beside the closed door, standing sentry. Suddenly nervous about what business Pike needs to discuss, Keyleth wishes he could come hold her other hand, ground her and her butterfly heart to the earth, but amidst the chaos of the past twenty-four hours, she hasn't forgotten their conversation in the woods.

"So." Pike settles herself on a settee in the middle of the room. "The sovereign tells me you've been doing some magic."

Keyleth's heart stops. She's not stupid, of course. She knows that whatever...display she put on yesterday in her rage and pain was seen by countless people of all three nations present. Of course her father would want Pike, the Mistress of Divinity, to poke and prod at her, to see exactly what manner of mystical energy she wields, before calling upon the oft-maligned Mistress of Arcana for her opinion.

"Yes," she whispers, looking down at her hands. "I..."

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Keyleth looks up, and Pike's smile is warm and soft.

Keyleth walks over to a candelabra and extends her hand over one of the flames. She concentrates, and the flame dims to the tiniest pinprick. A moment later, it flares out, nearly engulfing the candle. Another beat, and it's back to normal. "This was the extent of my abilities until a few days ago, when we were attacked on the road. Vax was injured, and I was able to heal what very likely would have been a fatal wound in a way much like I've seen our divine healers do.

"And then yesterday…" She trails off. She doesn't know how to describe what happened. In the light of day, the entire ordeal seems apocryphal, as if she perhaps had a dream that felt too real upon waking. She looks to Vax for help.

"You called lightning from above," he supplies, his voice low and even, "pulled bolts of it from the ceiling as though you were the Stormlord himself. And…and your hands were on fire, though the skin did not burn."

Pike takes all of this in with an expressionless face, and Keyleth wants to shake her so that all of her thoughts spill out. She sits in silence for a minute before saying slowly, "Well...that's...incredible, Keyleth."

Incredible? Keyleth has spent her day in quiet turmoil, turning those bolts of lightning over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of the low thrum of energy she can feel even now, a vibration just beneath her skin that she doesn't know she can control. This isn't incredible—this is terrifying.

She doesn't say this. Instead, she asks, "Can you sense the source of this...power? You know me, Pike, I've never been the most...devout or faithful. I have a hard time believing that a god has granted me abilities in the same way Sarenrae blessed you."

Pike hops off the settee and pads over to her. "Give me your hand." Keyleth offers it, and Pike wraps it up in both of hers, her two small hands not quite fully encompassing all of Keyleth's. She closes her eyes, and Keyleth holds her breath. After a few seconds, a warm, soft yellow light emanates from between Pike's palms. It envelopes Keyleth's hand, and it feels as though she's just thrust her hand into a sunbeam after having bathed it in ice. Keyleth looks up at Vax, and he looks back at her with the same perplexed expression she is sure she wears on her own face.

Whatever this ritual is, it's over in less than a minute. The light begins to ebb away, and Pike's eyes flutter open. "Huh."

Keyleth could scream. "What...have you found?"

"Well, it's not arcane, your magic." Keyleth feels her bones turn to gelatin. "But...it's not quite divine either? I suppose, if I had to guess, it's closer to the divine than it is to the arcane, if you were to place them on either end of a spectrum, which, until now, I've never thought to do. The Everlight wasn't the most helpful with the answers, unfortunately, but such is the nature of gods." She pats Keyleth's hand once before releasing. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Keyleth falls back against the poster of her bed. "You're sure?"

"I may not have all the answers, but I do not sense anything evil or sinister in your magic. It's more...neutral. Like nature, I suppose? My magic was given to me with the intent to do good, and if I were to use it to do evil, it would be a perversion of that magic. Your magic, on the other hand, feels...freer. Like you could use it to good, or to do evil, or to do things that don't have much of a moral coding at all, and all of that would be within the intent of the gift."

She's still not quite sure what to make of that, but it's at least better than the worst-case scenarios she's been concocting for herself since she's had a moment to think. "Thank you, Pike, for your insight and counsel. Truly, it means the world."

"Of course, Keyleth. Now, I have to go talk to some dead people." Without any further explanation, she gives a little half-bow before marching past Vax out of the room.

Keyleth collapses on the settee, burying her face in her hands. The tears come swift and hot, tears of relief, of gratitude, of exhaustion, of fear. This has been the longest few days of her life, and to have this one source of anxiety eased even just a bit makes her feel as though she is no longer tethered to the ground.

And yet. And yet. And yet she cries alone, no body beside her, no arm around her shoulder. She can feel him across the room, even without seeing him, and she knows why he can't come to her. They have to be better, both of them do, and so she cries alone.

.

Every muscle in Vax's body is tense. It is only by the strongest of willpower that he is able to stay rooted to his station by the door as Keyleth bursts into tears before him. His instinct is to go to her, as natural as the tide comes in to shore, but he has to be better, has to remember the ears just on the other side of this door. When he held her yesterday, when he brushed her hair and plaited it down her back in the way his mother taught him, this was a mistake. She deserves better, his sister deserves better, and he will be better, for them both.

And yet. And yet. And yet she cries alone, when she is already so alone, already kept tucked away from the easiest joys life has to offer. And what is the point of him, if not to fill her life with joy, if not to ease her suffering, if not to love her the way the flower loves the sun? The point of him, of course, is to keep her alive, to shepherd her to her great destiny, a destiny far beyond the reaches of a bastard child-turned-spy who has traded in his days in the sun for a lifetime of shadows. The point of him is to love her from afar, he supposes, and so she cries alone.

[tvrningout]

guess who just finished delwyn's bio B)))

[sophieswundergarten]

Mental Literature

Reynie had always had a habit of "writing things down" in his mind, he found it helped him remember important details and organize his thoughts. Certain words he liked, or ideas that came to him when he didn't have pen and paper handy. Often, these little notes become lists, or, less often, letters. After all, he had no one to write to at the orphanage.

The lists he used most commonly were the ones that contained new words he'd learned. When he came across one he didn't understand, he'd go get a dictionary from the reading room (One of the few books actually available at the orphanage, and one that had sat through many years of dusty disuse until Reynie had come along), looking it up and tracing the letters with his finger until he had fully absorbed the meaning.

One day, when he was sitting outside enjoying the pleasant weather while the other children ran around on the grass and played various games amongst themselves, he found himself cataloging their names. There was Susan Pennyworth, and Thomas Deerhart, and Jane Poll, and several others that moved about, swiftly engaging in a game of tag. A boy a few years older than Reynie himself walked up to where he was sitting under the ash tree. Vic Morgeroff, Reynie noted.

"What're you doing, Muldoon?" Vic asked in a bored way. Reynie wondered for a moment why he was asking, if he seemed so disinterested.

Quickly, he went through his list of new words, excited to try one out.

"I'm just enjoying the breeze under this large, deciduous ash tree, Vic. How are you doing today?"

Reynie hoped Vic would ask him what the word "deciduous" meant, as he himself had just learned earlier that day. Maybe he would even already know what it meant, since he was older than Reynie, and they could talk about it.

Vic's eyes sharpened as he listened to Reynie's response. "What did you just say, Muldoon? If that was a swear, I'm telling the director. Don't think just 'cause you're quiet and always hiding in one of your books you won't get in trouble."

"No, no," Reynie immediately jumped to correct him, "It's not a swear word, I promise. It's a word I learned this morning, it describes the tree, since it loses its leaves in the winter, as compared to an evergreen, which doesn't."

Somehow, this didn't seem to calm Vic.

"Oh? And what makes you think you can use that word, eh? Is it 'cause you're reading all the time? Think you'll impress someone? Knowing big words doesn't make you special, Muldoon. It- It just makes you a freak, who knows too much."

Apparently satisfied, Vic stalked off, shaking his head and muttering to himself, "Little weirdo, thinks he's better than everyone else."

Reynie watched him go, slightly stunned that his word had evoked such a violent outburst. After a few moments, he sighed, shoulders sagging as he shifted to lean against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. He started a new list. "Unpopular Words".

Months passed, and Reynie was summoned to the director's office.

Mr. Rutger was sitting behind his desk, tapping a pen on it when Reynie entered.

"Come in, come in." Mr. Rutger gestured with his free hand to the chair sitting across from him. Reynie sat down obediently, wondering what this was about. He hadn't caused any trouble lately, although his "Unpopular Words" list was beginning to get long enough that he'd had to start reciting it to himself in the mornings, so as to not forget any. He'd avoided Vic and his friends as much as he could, and continued to do well in all of his classes at the orphanage academy.

"Now, Reynard," Mr. Rutger set his pen down and steepled his hands together just below his face. "Do you know why I asked you to come have this little chat with me?"

Reynie shook his head. What strange thing adults do, he considered, to summon a child purposefully without telling them what is going on and then ask them what they think about it. How is the child supposed to respond?

Mr. Rutger frowned at him, as if that was the wrong answer.

"Well, Reynard, your teachers have reported to me that you've been asking about... opportunities." He said the word as though it was an oily worm that had slipped out of his mouth. "Opportunities to attend other schools. Now, why don't we talk about this? Here you're comfortable, you know how the system works. Your friends are here, and it wouldn't make sense to send you away. Besides, it's against policy for a student to be placed in an external education facility."

Reynie hadn't thought he was asking for "opportunities", he'd spoken to his teachers about taking extra classes only because he was nearing the end of the high school work books, and that was as far as the orphanage curriculum went. He was about to explain this to the director, and add that he didn't have any friends, but Mr. Rutger seemed to have decided that the conversation was over.

"There we are, Reynard." He clapped his hands together, leaning back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with his solution. "See? You'll be much happier here. Oh, and be a good lad and try to clean up that reading room you're always in; it's so dirty."

Reynie nodded, standing up and walking out of the office. He paused on the other side of the heavy doors, taking a deep breath before heading back to the room he shared with four other boys. He added "opportunities" to his list.

Not long after that, Reynie entered his first class of the day with the dull resignation to finish the last few pages of his geography workbook. He'd been trying to take as much time as possible and stretch out for as long as he could, since he knew that once this one was full he'd have to content himself with sitting in the back of the classroom and listening to the teacher go over material he had long since learned. However, upon wishing Mr. Green a good morning, he was told that he had been excused from his classes, and was to report to the main hall.

Reynie walked slowly on his way to the main part of the orphanage. He wasn't quite sure what had changed, but some part of him was hopeful that Mr. Rutget had changed his mind and would let him start taking classes somewhere else. He knew there was a local community college not too far, and he'd be happy to walk there if he could only get permission to attend.

His daydreams were shattered by the sudden image of the orphanage director's expression whenever he had approached him about... anything really. He'd asked, more than once, if they might be able to get a few more books for him to read, if the school kids might take a field trip to the museum, if there was any way that he could help pay for further education, he'd even offered to go through the orphanage's policies and Stonetown's bylaws himself to see if there was an exception or loophole that would allow him to attend the Boatwright Academy. All of these queries had ended with Mr. Rutger looking down at him, lips pursed in a sour pout. This had been going on for so long that Reynie noticed the same expression twisting Mr. Rutger's face every time he even entered the same room as Reynie.

He prepared himself to see that expression before opening the door to the main hall, but instead he found a woman. One he had never seen before and knew didn't work at the orphanage because she was wearing a lovely pink sweater over a floral patterned shirt. No one at the orphanage wore nice sweaters or bright colors. Everything there was drab, as if the color was leeched out of it upon crossing the threshold. This woman was certainly not drab, and smiled warmly at him as she rose from the table she was seated at.

Reynie smiled back at her shyly. He felt a slight, pleasant surprise at her seeming excitement to meet him. It had been a while since someone had smiled at seeing him.

"Hello, I'm Miss Perumal. I was told to wait here for a 'Reynard Muldoon'? Is that you?" The nice lady took a few steps toward him, smile faltering a bit as he hesitated.

"Oh," He started, shaking off his thoughts. "Yes, that's me. I'm Reynie." He hurried down the steps, stopping just in front of her. He paused, awkwardly trying to decide if he should shake her hand, or if she would find that "off-putting" and "too mature for a boy of his age", as his French teacher had once said.

Luckily, Miss Perumal stuck out her hand to him, her friendly smile returning in full force.

"Ah, I'm so glad. I was worried that you might have had somewhere else to be, and I was delaying you. As I said, my name is Miss Perumal, and I have been hired to be your new tutor. I am delighted to meet you Reynie. Do you prefer 'Reynie' to 'Reynard'? When I met the director he referred to you as 'Reynard', so I wanted to see what you'd like."

Reynie's mind was whirling with all that this woman said. She was "delighted" to meet him? And she wanted to know which name he preferred to be called, even after Mr. Rutger had spoken with her? He was stunned once again, and only pulled himself out of it when he realized that she was continuing to look at him, waiting for a response.

"Um, yeah. 'Reynie' is good, thank you, ma'am. You said you're my... tutor?"

Reynie wasn't entirely sure what a tutor was supposed to do. He had a vague concept of someone who is supposed to help students with their homework if they were struggling in school, because a teacher had once suggested he tutor his classmates, since he was so for ahead. It hadn't worked out, though, because only one student had approached him, and when Reynie had looked up in the middle of an excited explanation about the French Revolution, the boy had been staring at him in disgust, before abruptly pushing his chair back and leaving. Reynie had created a small mental note for himself, deciding that once he was able to think of the word without recalling that nightmarish, uncomfortable situation, he would find out exactly what the word "tutor" meant.

Miss Perumal nodded at him, her expression growing more serious.

"Yes, I am going to be your tutor. The word is often used to mean someone who will help students as a supplement to traditional teaching, but in our sense it is going to mean that I am a sort of private teacher, just for you."

Reynie appreciated that she had defined the word for him, but he was still a bit apprehensive about this strange woman. She seemed nice, but if she was just going to be a different kind of teacher, that likely meant that she would just hand him a new workbook and try to cover her surprise when he finished it in a few weeks. He didn't want her to be like that, she smiled at him and her eyes seemed kind, and he didn't want her to be just another adult who came to look at him with that distasteful expression that all of the other grown ups at the orphanage did.

But Miss Perumal wasn't finished yet.

"Now, Reynie, I understand that some students need a little bit of different help than most teachers can give them, but you aren't one of them. Mr. Rutger has shown me your transcripts, and you have excelled in every subject and class you've been placed in. You are a very gifted child, Reynie, and something tells me you haven't been given nearly enough opportunities."

She turned then, rummaging in the bag she carried over her shoulder, which Reynie had not noticed before. Producing a small book with a soft blue cloth cover, she handed it to Reynie.

"This," She explained, her smile back again, "Is for you. It's a book on Tamil, the language I grew up speaking. I really think that you'll enjoy learning it, and we might even be able to start having some conversations in it soon, if your record with the limited French available here is any indication."

Reynie accepted the book with a wondrous expression. This woman was willing to teach him, she gave him a book right after meeting him, she wanted to give him opportunities. He searched for a word to describe her, and he found so many good ones that he had to create a "Miss Perumal" list on the spot. She was glorious, she was exorbitantly compassionate, she was a paradigm he wished all adults followed, she was an assiduous researcher, and she was the antithesis to Mr. Rutger.

He took a deep breath, holding it in his chest next to the spark of hope he could feel glowing there. Running a hand over the book, he felt a smile growing on his own face. It had been a long time since he had smiled.

"Thank you, Miss Perumal. I would love to learn Tamil from you, as well as anything you'd want to teach me."

Miss Perumal looked excited, excited at the thought of teaching him. "Well, then, Reynie, I don't see any reason we shouldn't start right now." She gestured at the chair opposite the one she had been sitting in. "Why don't you begin reading through the introduction of that book, while I go over a few more of my papers. We can work on basic pronunciation once you're done."

Reynie sat down immediately, opening the book and still smiling to himself a little. He felt a lot less lonely as he began reading, and added "Friend?" to his Miss Perumal list.

[fuckin-sick-bih]

when you can see the finish line for a fic but you're just like... how get there... how do i make words happen... what are the idiots supposed to do now?

[itstimeforstarwars]

Can't believe that people think cats aren't cuddly. Captain Rex the cat gets excited when I put my dinner plate in the sink because that means it's Sleep On Grem's Arm hours.

[ghost-proofbaby]

mordor chapter 2 is taking so long because during editing i scrapped a huge portion of it because i hated it 😬 please bear with me as i rewrite

[miodiodavinci]

seeing everyone's responses to that "describe your ocs in the worst way possible" post has led me to conclude you are all rad as hell and have only the finest of tastes

[daemonoferror]

If I don't finish Heimdall x poet chapter 2 tomorrow, I will extend the hours in a day so that I can.

[akugyu]

i am so fucking tired of tumblr. stop hiding me from the tags, mother fuckers. i haven’t even been using the smut tag :(

[picascribit]

Me, trying to get myself to do fucking anything on my writing spreadsheet.

[kaercu]

it goes to show that you shouldn't try to write when you're sleepy bc last night i was struggling, but this morning i got through 7 starters pretty easily. i gotta start sleeping better asdf