#adsom fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beebrainedstudios · 2 years

Text

The Sun In the Palm of Your Hand:

Two kings and a prince dream of nightfall.

Finally, some ADSOM content again! Here’s a second pass at an idea I’ve been stuck on for a while now, focused around the dynamic between Kell and Maxim and how Osaron affects that, as well as the relationship between Osaron and Antari. I really tried to push the prose here to help emphasize the dreadful, dreamy feeling I was going for. I also snuck in some easter eggs for people who’ve read the Steel Prince graphic novels- it’s not necessary at all to understand this, but it will enhance the experience a bit. Enjoy!

(Set the night before Kell is placed in prison).

(Warnings for exhaustion, character death, blood, minor gore, broken bone mention, broken tooth mention, general injury, and nightmares!)

Night has fallen over London.

Maxim groans, his mouth thick and choked with blood. He can’t tell where it’s coming from; there’s a cut somewhere in his hairline that’s left drying streaks down his face, and he can feel the grind of empty space behind his tongue where a tooth has slipped loose. Beneath the little agonies, a deeper ache thrums, coiling under his ribs where he has been torn open by black crystal.

The palace shudders around his fallen body, its cavernous roof, all of the spiraling glass and gold that had served as his sky for decades now ripped away to reveal the real heavens. Stars wink down at him like sparks, mixing with the blurring darkness that is slowly creeping into his vision. There are no walls left, only broken ridges and fallen pillars like the one beneath him marking where the halls had become the ballrooms, the suites to the bedrooms. There’s no way to know where he is in the wreckage anymore. Everything is broken and saturated in the red light of the Isle below, torn to powder and rubble by the same dark hands that have torn his stomach open. He can’t remember quite what happened- it all feels like a shadow, slipping in and out of memory, formless and strange. There was something, some vile thing with sharp edges and coal-dark eyes. Something as black as night, but blazing with all the power of a furnace, its magic hotter than Maxim had ever felt in his life.

Strange, how something so warm could leave everything so dark.

His staff and his soldiers are nowhere to be found, but he prays to the saints that they all managed to escape before the world collapsed around them. His family- he’d thought Emira had been with him in the ballroom, and Rhy had been there too, dancing along to music that had long since faded. Kell… he can’t remember where Kell was, he doesn’t know. He’d thought he’d sent him away for some reason- had it been for his sake or Maxim’s?- but it couldn’t have been far. Maxim would have never have sent him so far away if there had been a threat to face. He needed Kell, his strength and his loyalty; he was the one Maxim could always trust.

Except for the stone. Except for Rhy?

Maxim barely remembers the night his trust had faltered, but in that moment he wanted it back. He’d never meant its absence to last forever, to push his son too far- he’d only wanted a little space, a little room to breath away from all of the magic and feelings that sat inside Kell, flashing like alarm bells every time something ground against his will. He was the most dangerous blade Maxim had ever wielded, sharp enough to cleave the world in two, and Maxim had never been able to trust his hands around that kind of power. He’d bungled it once, nearly lost the crown to an even sharper blade, but he’d managed to right himself and stop the spread before he lost everything. Now? Magic like Kell’s was the reason Maxim was here now, broken and dying in a shattered palace. He wondered crookedly if it had it been Kel-

No, Kell would never have done this. He’d always been too kind to wound too harshly; no matter how angry he got, Kell would never have torn his home apart, attached as he was to everything he touched. But Maxim had sent him away right when he needed him, and now he was missing and his family was gone and Maxim was going to die in the ruins of his own kingdom.

He hopes, then, that nothing bad would happen to Emira, if it hadn’t already. That Rhy was ok. And Kell…

Maxim hopes he still lives, that perhaps he sent him somewhere safer. But he knows, for all his meager hope, that where Kell has gone, he is lost. That he is helpless to save their world, and that Maxim is the one who sent him there.

A shard of pillar comes loose by his hand, Maxim’s gaze trailing after it to find what was once an embossed sun glinting dully in the light, its golden shape marred by cracks and the dust coating it. Night has fallen, he thinks, as his stomach boils with every breath, the heat dimming as the darkness behind his eyes grows. He finds his gaze settling to the horizon, his chin settling on his half-melted chestplate, watching as the red ribbon of the Isle sweeps away into nothing, its surface scarred with ropes of inky black.

Between his final breaths, Maxim can hear someone far off begin to sing, quiet as a whisper. The sound is even, the notes and words sweet and soft, but the voice itself is as cold as the blood in Maxim’s veins. He knew the song, distantly; he’d sung it since he was a child. Maxim found himself humming along, on and on and on until the blood finally stopped pooling in his throat, and the burning faded as his eyes went dark.

“I made a little fire, I kept it in my hand…”

***

Kell can see the stars.

Night has fallen over London, and Kell thinks it is beautiful. He’d never been able to see the stars from the palace before, where they were hidden behind elegant ceilings or drowned out by the Isle’s harsh glow. But tonight, somehow, the roof of the throne room has been torn away, the Isle has dimmed, and just this once he is able to see the stars. They shine like little beads strung up in velvety darkness, and Kell thinks it might be one of the most wonderful things he’s ever seen. They remind him of the distant flame tucked inside Lila’s eyes, bright as any sun, and the smoldering coals hidden beneath the flat black of Holland’s darkest one. They remind him of magic, and distantly he wonders if they’re anything like his own, glittering with tears that have traced a single path down one cheek.

Lila, he knows rather than sees, is flung across the stairs beneath his feet, her body fallen in a violent pose emphasized by the blood beneath her head and the knives between her fingers. She fought, and yet, she’s alive. He can hear her breathing evenly, without a single stutter, as if she’s merely asleep, and he’s so grateful that she didn’t fight too hard.

To his right, Holland is collapsed behind the throne, curled around a broken scythe that he had wielded in battle so recently. His hair is jagged from flames that Kell still remembers kissing his skin, and his hands are limp around the hilt and the place above his heart. But Holland, too, is unhurt and asleep, his face looser than Kell has ever seen it. A lifetime of pain, wiped away by exhaustion and night’s gentle hours.

He wishes he could look at them properly, perhaps even rise to collapse somewhere between them and curl up himself, but he’s too tired to move and there is someone holding him back. Not with cuffs, or promises, or ropes, or any number of the snares he’s felt before; just hands, sweeping soothingly through his hair like a breeze, cool and comforting. Kell can feel the way some of his bones are shifting as he breathes, off-kilter and stiff, and the skin along his side is torn beneath his coat. But there is no pain or discomfort attached to the wounds, only a heavy pressure threatening to push him off the edge into rest. He is content to sit at the foot of the Arnesian throne- arms limp and legs half-bent as if he was thrown against it- and lay his head back against legs the color of shadow. He fought well. He was strong, even if he lost.

Kell does not know who the throned victor is, the strange shadowy king carved of stone and radiating magic like light, but he feels like he’s been found. Like in some strange way, he’s come home, even as the rest of the palace lays in shattered ruins around him. He doesn’t know where anyone else has gone. There are no other bodies, just piles of ash and the marks of combat that tore his kingdom to shreds. There is no Maxim, no Emira, no Rhy or Hastra or Alucard. He doesn’t know what had taken everyone, but Kell knows with certainty that now there is no one left but the Antari and their king behind him, with his marble hands still stroking Kell’s hair as if he was the most precious thing in the world. He could remember the king’s fingertips, long and sharp like blades; they were still bloody from rending flesh and left flakes of dusty blood along his face. Their touch was gentle now, and Kell was reminded of the tread of a cat, soft paws hiding the killing claws beneath. When was the last time he’d felt like this, so at peace and so still? He hadn’t been held in so long, hadn’t felt a parent’s touch in what felt like years. Ever since the night Rhy fell, the royals’ love had been packed away like a blanket, only pulled out when things got too cold, when it was needed again. It hadn’t mattered that Kell had been freezing for months, not when they were still comfortable in the light chill. He’d missed it and had craved the flickers of it he’d still seen during Maxim’s warmer moments, but it hadn’t been enough; Maxim had still left him alone to fight the king.

The warmth he’d always sought from his family had always been erratic, stoked or smothered by the circumstances of their lives and the weighted risk they all took each time they tried to love one another. Kell would always want more of that touch, of Emira’s gentle grip on his cheek and Maxim’s hand on his shoulder. The hands he felt now were different. He was not needed the same way he had been; he was wanted, so badly it could scorch the earth. He was cherished like a son beneath the king’s hands, adored even, in a fierce, fiery way that would burn him if he got too close. Kell was somewhat sure he was too close already, and he could feel the king’s magic swirling around them both like a heat wave, warning and warm and wonderful. Sleep gnawed at him, trying to pull him back into its embrace, following the rhythm of the king’s fingers running up, down, up, down along his scalp. He wanted to follow it down into the blackness and rest until his bones mended and the world was built anew.

He’d loved the old world so much, but it was gone, and something in him- the same part of him that pulled at the threads of power and summoned flame, earth, and blood- was eager to yield everything they had to the stone king. To the one who held magic in the palm of his hands and crafted it into power. Wasn’t that what Kell was, really? There was humanity in him somewhere, but there was also magic, and it had been snapping at his heels to break free and run rampant ever since he’d been born. He was too tired to keep holding it back. It was tired of being subdued. There was no need to wrestle with it any longer, not with the king’s presence. Kell could feel his magic calling to his own, wrapping around it and soothing it the same way the king’s hands slipped through Kell’s hair. After he slept, maybe the new world would give him the room to let it out. He would be able to breathe, and grow, and change the way magic- Antari- always wanted to.

Behind him, the king had begun to sing, a sweet and crooning song that Kell had heard all his life. It was one of Maxim’s favorites, an idle tune passed between them through the years that was now a lullaby for the resting Antari. Kell swallowed thickly past the blood in his mouth and began to whisper along, letting his eyes fall closed and his head loll to the side. Night had fallen in London, and it was time to rest.

“I made a little fire, I kept it in my hand…”

***

Holland, deeply asleep in his bed in the white world, did not dream.

His mind was at peace, still and calm beneath the weight of the soul it shared a body with. They’d agreed in the beginning that the nights would belong to the oshoc, a mutual gift that gave one a break from constant nightmares and the other the chance to move even while they slept. The dreaming was reserved for Osaron, and so he dreamt.

He dreamt of a world open and waiting for him, awash in shades of gold and red that soon crawled with shadows beneath his hands.

He dreamt of threads, power spiraling out in strands that he plucked, he pulled, he tied into new, beautiful shapes, crafting elements and spells and glorious change from nothing.

He dreamt of another king, a mere human, fighting and trying to stop him, only to fall at his feet in a bloody pool, his crown melting away into ash.

He dreamt of a palace crumbling into ruin.

He dreamt of three Antari. One who was fierce as flame, but distant, a weak memory of Holland’s that still showed exceptional promise. One who was currently tucked beside him like a second skin, a gentle thing made cruel by a crueler world that Osaron had promised everything to. One who was proud and bright with magic as sweet as blossoms, born of a home that had still held as many walls as it had doors. He wanted them. He adored them. They were children of magic, heirs of power, they were his and would soon be in his hands to mold into their greatest selves.

In a few hours, another world would wake up with the sun into a beautiful morning. The day would be bright and cheerful for everyone but its king and eldest prince, whose sleep had been haunted by visions of a black king and their city in ruins. A few hours later, that prince would run, chased away by the king who had caged him, trying to save him and the world at once and instead dooming them both to the curse of the oshoc’s want.

In a few hours, in the same world Osaron was burrowed inside, Holland would wake and summon his knight, bestowing her with a collar the color of midnight and an order to get it around the prince’s neck. She would bow and leave to fulfill his- and Osaron’s- wishes, and a few hours later, Osaron would get to meet the red Antari, the one he craved like an ache, a new host to carry him through the worlds.

But that would all come later. Osaron did not know yet what the next day would bring. He was still dreaming of a night studded with stars, and of a song he’d never heard that he and Holland’s body hummed along to in their sleep.

“I made a little fire, I kept it in my hand,

But when I wasn’t looking, it ate up all the land.

It scorched the earth and grew and grew but still it wasn’t done.

It burned across the world until it grew into the sun.”

19 notes · View notes

alinatk · 25 days

Text

Breaking Down Holland (A Dark Shade of Magic Tickle Fanfic)

Fandom: A Dark Shade of Magic (V E Schwab) Characters: Kell Maresh | Holland Vosijk Summary: Red London is in chaos, everyone is fighting to purge evil, and more than ever the Antari are needed. Even though he doesn't trust Holland, Kell needs his power and will use a somewhat unusual means to convince him to help.

(The picture doesn't belong to me, It's just a reference)

"You told me once" Kell said "that you were either the master or the slave of magic. So which of the two is it now?"

"That's what you don't understand" said Holland "I was always just the slave".

"Holland" Kell sighed. "It's chaos outside, we're losing so all help is welcome. It's the least you can do after all, help us have a little hope"

"Hope for you and your London" Holland didn't change his tone but the harshness was clear. "I just want to stay here and sink into the void, now leave me"

"No" Kell came closer. "You will help, even if I have to make you"

"Go ahead" Holland leaned his head against the wall. "I've felt a lot of pain, I don't care anymore"

"As much as part of me really wants to hurt you, I won't" Kell controlled his chains, so that Holland went to the ground. "I thought of something else"

"And even?!" Holland didn't show it but he was a little surprised. He was sitting on the floor and felt the chains wrap around his wrists and ankles and anchor themselves to the floor. "Well, at least this way is more comfortable"

"Makes it easier for me too" Kell sat down in front of his feet and began to remove his boots and socks.

"What are you.." Holland couldn't hide the confusion in his expression.

"You are so used to painful touches, but what about softer ones? Have you felt them?" Kell asked, with an amused expression on his face.

"I don't know where you're going with this, I just..." He stopped talking and stiffened when he felt Kell's finger run over his sole.

"Oh, what was that?" Kell scoffed and repeated the movement, seeing Holland try to pull his foot back. "Looks like you're sensitive".

"Tickle me? You can't be serious" Holland tried but failed to hide the uneasiness in his voice. "I thought you had more urgent things to deal with"

"I really do, but I need your help and you don't want to collaborate" Kell ran his index finger up and down Holland's right sole. "So I'm going to convince him"

"S-Stop it" Holland's breathing became shorter as he tried to keep the smile away from his lips.

"I wasn't too sure this was going to work" Kell used all five fingers now, fingering him. "But it's really impressive how these light touches affect someone as serious and cold as you"

"L-Leave me alohohohone" Holland couldn't hold back his laughter any longer, feeling how Kell's fingers ran from the heel to the base of his fingers. "ahahahahahaha stop!"

"Of course, as soon as you decide to help me" Kell used both hands now, one on each sole, increasing the intensity of the touches. "I don't want to take you in chains or have to watch you all the time"

"Ahahahahahahahahahaha shit" Holland was caught completely off guard by this, he didn't even remember the last time he felt something like this. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO!" He reacted more abruptly when Kell focused on his arches and toes.

"Oh, what an interesting reaction, is that a good spot?" Kell dug harder into his arches, reaching the bottom of his fingers and diving between them.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAMN YOU" Holland exploded and despite his effort to keep his fingers suppressed, he couldn't stop Kell from having access to those sensitive areas. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP THAT! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

"You know, you look so much better this way" Kell watched as a blush appeared on Holland's pale cheeks as his feet swayed and his body flexed in response to his movements.

Holland didn't know how to deal with it, he was supposed to be able to free himself but the tickling made him even weaker, it wasn't like he was going to win a fight with Kell in that state either. He kneaded his soles thinking it would help lessen the sensations but it just required more effort and feeling Kell's fingers traveling and exploring every sensitive spot on his feet was disconcerting, after all, he never realized how sensitive he was.

Kell continued like this for a few more moments before pausing. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching as Holland caught his breath and resumed his posture.

"Are you done with this nonsense?" Holland tried to face him but he was still recovering. His face had gained a little color, his hair was disheveled and his breathing was labored.

"No, but that seemed a little intense for you, I wanted to let you breathe before continuing, I'm not going to take it easy" Kell rummaged through his coat pockets and took out a long, stiff quill.

"Then that's it?" Holland said with disdain.

"Yeah, I'm curious to see how you'll react" And with that said, Kell began to stroke the feather along Holland's left sole.

"A-Ah!" Holland's breathing hitched the moment the feather made contact with his sole and as much as he tried to convince himself that it wasn't that bad, he quickly realized how wrong he was. "aaahahahahaha"

Kell was pleased that this method was also effective, noticing how Holland pursed his lips as he tried to contain his laughter. "Is a single feather enough to break you?! How curious"

"S-Shuhuhuhuhuht up" Holland bit his lip trying to stifle his laughter as he wriggled his foot away. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOT THAT!" He screamed when Kell began to pass it between his toes.

"I told you I wouldn't take it easy" He smiled, satisfied. "You can end this whenever you want" Kell moved the feather along the base of Holland's toes, alternating between dipping between them and taking his time as he sawed each of the sensitive spaces.

"NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO KELL STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP" Holland closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head.

"Not yet? Let me be more convincing" And he used his free hand to scribble his fingers on Holland's other sole, combining the methods.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO NOAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEASE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP" He wasn't going to last long.

"Begging won't help" Kell dug firmly into her arches with his fingers. "As much as I'm amazed to hear"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OK, OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY" He screamed.

"Ok what?"

"I'LL HELP YOU, I'LL HELP HAHAHAHAHAHA PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAP THAHAHAHAT" Holland finally gave in and Kell stopped.

"You made this difficult, but I'm glad you agreed" Kell moved the chains to free him.

Holland stayed there for a few moments before retracting his legs and standing up. "And what makes you trust me?"

"I don't trust, but I could very well throw you here again and maybe tell the king about it and ask for a public "punishment" for you, with special participation from everyone who wants to have fun with you" Kell looked at him with a slight smile on the lips.

"Y-You wouldn't dare..."

"So we understand" Kell held his arm and led him out of the cell. "Let's go, we leave early tomorrow"

3 notes · View notes

tigerlilycorinne-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

sixty sentence sunday (or something)

I was tagged by @rainbees an unforgivably long time ago—thank you so much for the tag! I can’t believe I’m doing this on a Tuesday about a month later... This is the little 12k and counting oneshot I’m working on: Canon divergence from the Shades of Magic series by V. E. Schwab for the Hanahaki prompt in the @augustwritingchallenge 2022.

It dawns on him, as he looks up at the nearly-colorless sky, that he is not getting up. This empty grove of trees in White London, viewed from the base of this thin, dying tree, will the be the last thing he will ever see. The thought is not a morbid one, or even a bitter one. It seems to be the correct ending for Holland Vosijk: empty, but peaceful. Even beautiful in its simplicity, elegant in its minimalism. He looks up at White London’s sky, his vision crisscrossed by thin, pale branches. The trees have maybe a handful of leaves clinging to them all together, and as he watches, a gust of wind shakes a single leaf loose.

It flutters to the ground. It lands at his feet.

No, he decides, no, it’s not a bad way to end things at all.

And, like the leaf, he lets go.

He can feel magic leaving him, like pieces of his soul, as he breathes out. He can feel it hang in the air around him, White London snatching it up and drinking it down its parched throat greedily. He lifts his hands and places them, still dusty, in his lap as he feeds White London.

Holland has loved White London, consciously and unconsciously, all of his life. He has served White London the way a servant serves a master. He has imagined a future in it, the way a lover treasures possibilities. He has had dreams for White London the way a mother has dreams for her child.

He could not imagine a more fitting death: letting White London drink him dry.

“Holland.”

Holland considers turning toward the voice, but he has no need to. He knows Kell’s voice by now: clear, a thimbleful of friction, moderately deep but not as deep as Holland’s own. He knows the way Kell’s words carry the weight of purpose. Holland waits for Kell to say more; Kell is always saying things that sound like conversation but are objectives dressed up. Holland can picture Kell now: shockingly red hair out of place in the sparse color palette of White London, his handy coat fitting perfectly around his shoulders, his brows furrowed with displeasure over his arresting eyes: one blue, one black. He makes Holland’s world spin dizzyingly.

Footsteps.

“Holland, what…”

Kell’s voice is coming from in front of him now. Holland’s eyes must’ve closed; he can’t see Kell. He can’t see anything.

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

“Holland, what are you doing.” There it is, the way Kell speaks objectives. He doesn’t mean, Holland, what are you doing? He means, Stop.

“Kell.” Holland is distantly surprised with how much effort it takes to open his mouth and put his vocal chords to use. He ends up whispering half of Kell’s name, his voice cracking with disuse. He doesn’t bother saying anything else; Kell is an Antari; he can see what Holland is doing perfectly.

“What are you doing, Holland.” There’s more heat in Kell’s voice this time. This time, he once again doesn’t mean, What are you doing, Holland? He means, I have things to do. Stop being ridiculous.

Holland drags in another breath. If he was a full cup of magic, White London has drunk approxmately half of him. “Can you feel it,” he rasps. “The world…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He feels as if he’s falling through the cracks of reality, slowly fading into translucency.

A pause. “Yes.” Kell’s voice has gotten lower. Physically lower—he is probably kneeling in front of Holland now. “Yes, I can feel it.”

Holland smiles. “White London.” It feels like the name of a lover on his tongue. “It’s alive.”

Hands press against Holland’s own, folding Holland’s fingers closed. Holland must be very cold, because Kell feels extraordinarily warm.

And then he realizes magic is flowing into him, an endless tide, crashing over him, so much he feels he could drown.

“You can be too,” says Kell.

Alive? Holland wants to ask. The relief that has slowly sunk into him, through his muscles and into his bones suddenly freezes in his veins.

Do I want to be?

Tagging: @academicdisasterfic, @blue-rose-smalls, @lunar-obscure-us and @kellerific-writing (and anyone else who’d like to!)

#adsom #kelland #is that even the ship name?#I have no idea #my fic #fanfic #tags #writing #au_gust_2022

17 notes · View notes

tleeaves · 3 months

Text

The Fictional Crush Line-Up For 2023 and Beyond

Was going to do this sooner (as in a review on the year based on the new or resurfaced interests I picked up, with aforementioned fictional crushes along the way), but I wanted to collect art for them all too and then I also had to try and remember them all. But here we are. If I'm missing any, I'll either have to edit and or reblog to include them.

See if you can spot any common threads (it may get trickier as the list goes on, just be warned). This goes almost in chronological order. But order does not in any way reflect my level of brainrot and obsession with each.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE FRAGILE THREADS OF POWER, BALDUR'S GATE III, AND ARCANE: LEAGUE OF LEGENDS (SPECIFICALLY REGARDING VIKTOR).

Consider yourself warned.

Victor Vale (Vicious by V.E. Schwab)

Victor and his revenge story are kind of responsible for kick-starting my journey of self-rediscovery these past twelve months, in a strange and roundabout way. He made me want to stick up for myself and what I wanted out of life. Sure, he's extremely morally grey in a concerning way, and yeah, we don't normally encourage revenge, but I found him a comfort at a difficult time. But also, I could totally fix him (no one can and it's no one's responsibility, yet the sentiment is still there). I'm not usually one for blonds (I am a liar) but his cold aesthetic is oddly pleasing. There's nothing I understand more than an awe that rots into resentment and envy while maintaining the same thread of fascination with someone. "Victor Vale was not a fucking sidekick" is just a, mwah, chef's kiss line. Honestly, I have less of a crush on this guy, more of an understanding that I appreciate. Also, I haven't even mentioned the chronic pain implications and canon uses of his powers. But that might be for another time.

Viktor (Arcane: League of Legends)

Another Viktor with chronic illness themes and whose (in LoL lore) regard for a partner in science goes sour over time as they pursue different objectives (not seen in the Netflix series yet, of course, it's too early for glorious evolution). This guy always comes back to rot in my brain, and I cannot wait for season 2 later this year to see what comes of his arc. I'm planning a fanfic involving him, Jayce, and maybe/sort of Jinx, based on a dream I had months ago but still have swirling in the soup that is my consciousness. There is something so pretty about this guy. If I was more confident in my sketching abilities, he'd end up being my muse way too often. Viktor's character to me is kind of a tragedy personified, and I love a good tragedy. Oh, and his voice actor?? Amazing. There's some debate over how authentic he sounds to Eastern Europeans, but the accent aside still, he sounds sooo good. I want to sit in on a lecture where he speaks about literally anything for two hours.

Kell Maresh (A Darker Shade of Magic; The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab)

Usually, I don't talk about Kell because of how silly I feel like my crush on him is. I identify with Delilah "Lila" Bard throughout ADSOM and even Threads, so I hate further mentioning how much I actually think about Kell because I'd have to fist fight anyone who said I only relate to her because of Kell when that's not the truth. And yet, there's still enough differences between Lila and I for me to be like "if I had to pick a woman in the Schwabverse..." But also, MAYBE I JUST THINK KELL IS GORGEOUS, OKAY? 🫣 Maybe I like that he starts as a somewhat naive prince who's had things both easy and rough in life (wanting to be loved by the only family you know and not feel like you're only there to protect your adoptive brother whom your parents tried to tell you both was not actually your brother and you should stop treating each other as such is VALID, argue with the wall, also he's the bodyguard and eternal worrier (yes, worrying) for Rhy and he's taken lives way too young). Maybe I like that he fell first and fell hard for Lila (okay, but if we're getting into the nitty-gritty, she did flirt with him first multiple times, but she would never admit to actual feelings), that he's the male love interest without reservations for once, leaving it up to Lila and whether she's open to love for once in a story. And yeah, okay, maybe I like that he's actually some kind of a prince charming, the sort you always secretly dream about, you know? Shut up. I like his stupid magic coat too. He's clever, but occasionally actually unbelievably dumb, he's funny and witty yet he knows when to keep his mouth shut (and is usually the one hauling others out of a scrap because of their own smart mouths), he cares too much about his family, AND DID I MENTION HE ALSO HAS CHRONIC ILLNESS THEMES THAT BROKE MY DAMN CHRONICALLY ILL AND IN PAIN HEART? I've said too much already, but there. He's a guy.

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man: Across The SpiderVerse)

This is the one my sister teases me most about because she doesn't get it. To be honest with you all, even I don't know how to explain it. But this guy. Miguel. There is something about him that I just abdkjdjsdv, you know? Is it the tragedy? The moral greyness? The fangs? His insane height? Just his fanon self? The fucking muscles?? I don't know. But I will defend how interesting he is as an antagonist until the cows come home.

Elliott (Stardew Valley)

Oh... boy. Sometimes, I realise I have a type. It's pretty guys who are hopeless romantics that write novels and poetry. Maybe it's just this one guy. But wow, it works on me. I'm writing a fanfic about him because I need to. There's only 400-odd words to it so far. It was not long after I met him in the game that I decided I had to wife him up. I planted that pomegranate tree early, because it's his favourite fruit for those who don't know, and he loves receiving them as a gift. I got ducks so I could give him their stray feathers. I learned how and when to find lobsters and catch crabs because he loves those too. If I'm out of gifts, I go get a coffee for him because every writer needs their sustenance. Literally, by Spring of Year 2, we were married, and I wondered if perhaps I might have been a little too single-mindedly pursuing every one of those cut scenes when I should have been taking it a bit slower and making it less of a mission. Don't know what to tell you, I went crazy. I fully believe in the headcanon that he gets up early just to go through his haircare routine. Is he pretentious? Maybe. Does he lay it on a little too thick that he's scared of dying alone? Well, okay, yes. Does it bother me that as a househusband he doesn't help out more on the farm? Occasionally. But there's also no one else I'd rather be with (and I developed a sprinkler system specifically so there was less work for me anyway and so now I don't mind at all when he isn't helping). And I can't believe my sister ever introduced me to Stardew Valley because I am now mentally ill about a videogame character made of pixels. Yes, I make wine just for him too. Hush. I spoil him daily now that we're married. Our first child is a son named Ernest. I was debating between Ernest and Edgar, and honestly, I think I should have gone with the latter, but I chose the former. All the dialogue from Elliott is so frickin' cute.

Astarion Ancunín (Baldur's Gate III)

And do you know what the worst part about this one is? I still haven't actually played Baldur's Gate III. I know, I KNOW. A crime. I'm working on it. But you best believe I've watched every cutscene I can, every scrap of gameplay dialogue, all the choices, the different endings you can get with him (Ascended breaks my heart every time -- I don't care how hot he is, it's not what he would have wanted, he doesn't love you like he used to anymore, and he's not as happy as he could be), and I've listened to all the interviews with Neil Newbon and the writer for Astarion about him. This fruity traumatised vampire haunts me. I want to hold him gently and caress his face and tell him he's beautiful and what he looks like to me since he hasn't seen his reflection in centuries and I want to make sure he knows he's loved. I want him to bite me and drink my blood too, but that's not as important. Does it weird me out how much he reminds me of Prince Charming from the Shrek franchise and Preminger from Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper and then aesthetically Asra from The Arcana: A Mystic Romance? Yes. But Astarion's also his own character and I'm in love with his smile and goofy lines.

Settrigh "Sett" (Heartsteel; League of Legends)

This... might be the lowest point, actually 💀 My sister would agree. Because it's not enough to crush on book characters, show characters, and videogame characters -- while technically this guy is a videogame character and was part of League of Legends waaay before the music video, it was the PARANOIA music video that got me. So, even fictional characters made/involved in music videos are not safe from my heart. Because, as I understand it, OG Sett is a bit different from Heartsteel Sett, and I've found I usually prefer reading about the interpretation of the latter in fanfic more than the former. I mean, I still really, really enjoy fanfics where he's The Big Boss of the pits, and or his other background/lore is included, but I've read some where his old personality is a bit Yikes. The golden retriever energy is my favourite era of his if we can call it that (I still headcanon him as a part fox Vastayan, you can't convince me otherwise so go argue with someone else about it, not me). And honestly, I think I might have read more fics involving Sett in 2023 than I did any of the other characters on this list. Which is saying something since he's not as popular as a few of them. He's a pretty guy and I wish to bite him. Lovingly.

Mizu (Blue Eye Samurai)

Oh woman. Mizu is... is... she's basically my wife. I know she's all our wife, but like just let me dream a little here. As soon as I finished the series, I was opening up Tumblr, Pinterest, and AO3, my holy trinity of fandom. My platonic wife was sending me TikToks of our shared fictional wife. Mizu can wind up non-binary, male, female, I honestly do not mind because I am in love with any version she is/becomes (for now, I interpret her as a woman in disguise, but if that changes, I'll absolutely change how I refer to Mizu). She is a tragedy wrapped up in revenge because of a rotten love and unfortunate parentage and time period. I want her as much as I want to be her. Also? I go insane over her little smiles and smirks. I LOVE when we got to hear her laugh, even if it was mostly the flashbacks (do not mention Mikio near me; if he wasn't already dead, I would kill him). Also, who doesn't hate their British/white half, ahaha, oh my god, I know mixed ethnicity is a hot topic for people who do not want POC whitewashed in media, and I fully understand that, but I do appreciate seeing parts of myself in mixed characters like the conflict between trying to be more like one side than another. I'll also admit it: she does indeed look hot covered in blood and carrying a sword. I'll see myself out the door. I've been wanting to write a fanfic about her but I'm still stewing over ideas. Mizu is also probably my first truly major crush on a fictional woman (other than my childhood crush on Helga Sinclair from Atlantis: The Lost Empire). Vi from Arcane comes pretty close, but I see too much of myself in her that it gets weird.

We'll do some honourable mentions for characters from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim since I've gotten into that again.

Brynjolf, Hadvar, and Nazir, I wish I could mod my gameplay so I could marry you. The developers hated their men-loving gamers (I know the women-lovers complain about Serana, but she will never be as heartbreaking as Brynjolf, I don't care if she recognises proposals only to decline them). I mean, Brynjolf is the Tamriel equivalent of Scottish, he calls you "lass/lad", has got a smoothass voice, supports you through so much of the Thieves Guild questline, has a wicked sense of humour, and then when you finish the questline, it's all "sorry, lass. Got important things to do. We'll speak another time" 😭 You can't even recruit him as a follower. He says nothing when you wear an amulet of Mara. I play on a fucking PS4, I can't do mods to marry him or get more dialogue.

(By the way, on my most recent playthrough, Lydia died when I fought the troll on the seven thousand steps, and I am still mad about it. It used to be difficult for Lydia to die, that was why I brought her everywhere, and now I have to become Batman "I work alone". ESPECIALLY after Benor then died on the way up to Paarthurnax. I still can't believe that happened, I should have told him to stay behind and wait for my return.)

Also, every time I play, Derkeethus is so bugged, I can't even rescue him let alone marry the guy, which was disappointing because he seemed nice.

Argis the Bulwark, Vilkas, Farkas, Rayya, Aela the Huntress, and Marcurio, you are all marriageable and live in my heart always. Marcurio was the first I ever married, I think. Three guesses why I chose him (it's the sarcasm, wisecracks, and general sense of humour) (maybe the long hair too). Has anyone noticed how there doesn't seem to be marriageable options among the Khajiit characters?? Why do you think that is? I just checked the Skyrim marriage wiki and this is what it has to say in the trivia: 'There are no Khajiit spouses, however; since the majority of Khajiit in Skyrim are traders or travelers from Elsweyr, they probably have families back home. Additionally, Khajiit characters talk about home a lot, stating how much they miss it and how cold Skyrim is; thus, they probably do not want to marry and settle down in Skyrim.'

Heart-breaking. Oh well.

And that's the end of the line-up. If you read through this, Divines bless your goddamn soul. Psycho-analyse me based on them, I dare you. Or just judge me. I'd like to see either. And if you can find something in common about them all (you don't need to consider the honourable Skyrim mentions), please let me know, because I am personally at a loss.

#victor vale #viktor arcane #kell maresh #miguel o'hara #elliott stardew valley #astarion ancunin #sett heartsteel #mizu blue eye samurai #skyrim characters #these are all just from the past twelve months #the real common thread here might just be mental illness

21 notes · View notes

starsailores · 3 months

Text

been discussing new name ideas with my housemates because, as much as i adore the name holland, it makes writing adsom fanfic rather difficult. and two of the names they proposed were elliot and victor. i am never escaping the ve schwab character allegations

#issue is my favourite names are holland + adam + elliot + victor. all fictional guy names. alas

3 notes · View notes

kmackatie · 10 months

Note

Your choice (or all, if you like) of 19, 53, and/or 66 for the ask game? c:

hello! thanks for the asks!

(ask me a fanfic writer ask)

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

There's quite a few authors I read who I think has influenced the way I like to write, and specific books in them! V.E. (Victoria) Schwab, especially The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue and A Darker Shade of Magic, both for the way Victoria structures text, and the worldbuilding in ADSOM (this book has my favourite opening line of a book ever). More recently—and definitely influencing the style of sleep, with benefits—is Alison Cochrun's The Charm Offensive and Casey McQuiston's Red, White, and Royal Blue. Both are contemporary romcoms with a really fun way of blending humour and emotional beats that I definitely have been emulating in writing my own romcom fic. These authors are also all favourites and influences what I like to read and write: Jay Kristoff, Sarah J. Maas, Richelle Mead, C.S. Pacat, Brandon Sanderson, Robert Jordan, Tamsyn Muir, and Leigh Bardugo. Also Tolkein, I am a big fan of Tolkien!

53. when writing, do you have an outline? and do you stick to it?

What's an outline? Nah, I'm kidding, but I also don't outline in the typical outline-y way. Most often, I have a bullet point list of some character beats I know I want to hit in the fic (generally hashed out in a Discord message to my friends) that becomes the kind of blueprint for writing. Most of those main beats stay once I work them out, but the exact path to get there is all up in the air until I write it. I found, if I do a full outline on a fic, I then don't actually want to write it because my brain thinks I already have. My bullet point list works really well for me! Some beats stay fixed, some adjust and change as needed for the story.

66. when have you felt the most confident in your writing?

I think with my current fic I'm writing/publishing, and that really came out of the end of last year once I fought through some pretty sever imposter syndrome, disconnection from the community, and my own fears about not being good enough at writing. I think I've finally found what I like as 'my style', and also have the confidence to experiment and play around with it.

#my writing #fanfic writer ask game #outquisitor #ask katie #katie replies #fic: sleep with benefits

2 notes · View notes

hollandorks · 2 years

Note

Hey Shelby!! So I just saw your post asking for romance book recommendations and since you’ve help me endure exam season with your absolutely amazing Middle of the Night fic, I thought I’d return the favour!

A darker shade of magic, V.E. Schwab: Okay so, it does center around romance but the romance in it is really sweet and has got a pretty natural flow. The basic concept of the series is that there are four different worlds in which four London cities exist in superposition. There’s black London which has been consumed and burnt out by magic, white London in which magic is scarce and every one fight for the slightest scraps of power, red London which is the capital of an empire in which magic flourishes and grey London aka Victorian London with no magic. Kell, is from red London and is a very powerful type of magician called an antari who can travel through world using blood magic and tokens to deliver messages from his king and queen to the other world’s sovereigns. Lila is a thief with dreams of adventure and a sharp tongue. They both meet under strange circumstances and end up teaming up to save the worlds from being corrupted by magic the same way black London was. They are a very cute, sassy, pairing who really complement each other well and help each other grow as people. Highly recommend. (There’s also another really really cute pairing that start appearing in book 2, Rhys and Alucard)

The Folk of the Air, Holly Black: Okay so that one is much more romance oriented. It takes place in the land of Faerie, where Jude and her twin and half-fairy sister where taken after their parents were murdered by a fairie general who was married to their mom and decides to raise them out of honour. And because the twins are human however, they’re not really accepted by other fairies. That’s partly why Jude feels an insatiable need to prove herself and gets involved in all sorts of political schemes and plays for power. Carden is a prince of Faerie and is know for his cruel, tempestuous and wild temperament. Him and Jude both feel nothing but contempt, hatred and disdain for each other and yet Cardan might be the key to Jude’s plans. So it’s a bit tough to summarise but basically enemies to lovers with lots of sexual tension, an insanely clever and ambitious female lead and faerie lore!

Lore Olympus, Rachel Smythe: So this one’s a webtoon, I don’t know if you like comics but seriously this one is amazing. Lore Olympus is basically a retelling of Geek mythology and follows the Hades and Persephone. The art is just gorgeous, Persephone and Hades are just so adorable, the plot is complex and well built and if you like mythology, you’ll definitely love it. Episodes come out every Sunday and you’re in luck cause the hiatus ended just a few weeks ago !

So that’s for my little recommendation list! On that note, I just wanted to say, because I haven’t had a chance to do so since motn ended, thank you so so much for your writing!! It was seriously one of the best fanfics I have ever, and I mean ever, read. And I don’t say this just for the sake of it because I generally never really reach out to authors personally. But wow, let me tell you, nothing makes me happier than the thoughts of a sequel. And just as you’re stuck on battinson, I’m stuck on motn 😂

Anyway, thank you so much, lots of love,

Mal 🤍🤍

Hi Mal!! Thank you for the book recs!!! I have read and loved both ADSOM and The Folk of the Air!!! 🥰 literally two of my favorite series! I haven't read Lore Olympus though and I shall do so!

(Also, love that you included a little like summary for each of these and why you love them!! 🥺 we're best friends now just based on this, you have excellent taste)

And thank you so much for the love about motn 🥺😭 It means a lot to hear that! I'm hoping to take a week or two to read & refill my creative well while working on the sequel! 🥰

#adsom is like #one of my all time favorite fantasy series #I've read pretty much everything else by the same author and I would die for her tbh #folk of the air is also A++#asks #book recs

5 notes · View notes

darlingfoe · 1 year

Text

People finding slivers of my old ADSOM fanfic ; oof. I cannot even tell you if I will continue the series or not it's been SO LONG — y ikes

0 notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 8 months

Text

Endurance - Chapter 51 - itsalwaystheapocalypse - Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab [Archive of Our Own]

#endurance fic #adsom #adsom fanfiction #adsom fanfic #a darker shade of magic #a gathering of shadows #a conjuring of light #magic #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #ve schwab

11 notes · View notes

ao3feed-shadesofmagic · 10 months

Link

by antaripirate A collection of little one-shots with the adsom gang! Words: 651, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Delilah "Lila" Bard, Kell Maresh, Handsome Vasry (Shades of Magic), Stross (Shades of Magic) Relationships: Delilah "Lila" Bard/Kell Maresh Additional Tags: captain bard is protective of her crew read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/r4LBP7v

#shades of magic #a darker shade of magic #adsom #ve schwab #adsom fanfic #som fanfic

2 notes · View notes

lumau · 3 years

Photo

For @orchidscript ‘s fanfic A Sweet Far Thing - Shades of Magic / Edwardian AU, in which Kell is trans and Holland is incredibly sweet!

Thank you Orchid for bringing this AU to life and letting me draw them!

#shades of magic #kelland #kell maresh #holland vosijk #adsom fanart #adsom fanfic #edwardian au

30 notes · View notes

luciehercndale · 3 years

Text

Hair Cutting and Sunrises // Kelila

Double fanfiction today! But this is a Kell x Lila one. I’ve had this idea for a while, and decided it was time to write it. Enjoy!

Characters/Couple: Kelila, Kell Maresh and Lila Bard Rating: T

“What are you doing over there?” Lila called behind Kell. He found himself grinning, as she came close to him.

He was on the deck, enjoying the first lights of the day. “Nothing. What are you doing here? It’s still early, you could have slept more.”

Lila’s eyebrow shot up. “I don’t think so. I’m the captain here, I should be up before everyone,” she shrugged, crossing her arms on her chest. “Even if the weather is damn freezing,” she added, and yawned.

Kell moved closer, and put his arm on Lila’s shoulder. She gazed up at him, and a small smile of gratitude appeared on her lips.

“Better?”

“Mmmh,” she murmured, and her eyes moved from his face to his hair. She shifted her body and lifted a hand to touch the end of his ginger locks. “Your hair grew a lot ever since we’ve left,” she commented, examining it.

“That’s what hair do,” Kell replied. “They grow.”

Lila rolled her eyes, then her whole face changed. Kell knew that she had probably had an idea, and honestly, sometimes it scared him. Her ideas weren’t always doable. “And you cut it,” she said, frowning. She was already taking one of her knives out of her coat when he realized what she wanted to do. Even before she wielded the weapon close to his throat, aimed at his hairline.

“No,” he said firmly, and recoiled back from her.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Kell rolled his eyes. “I trust you, but not with my hair.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you know that you’re not at the palace anymore, right?” she teased. “And you’re not a prince here.” She was joking, of course.

“There was somebody at court who used to do it, okay?”

“And I bet this person was a professional, unlike me.”

“Perhaps?”

It was Lila’s turn to roll her eyes. “By the time we’ll get back to Arnes, your hair would reach your elbows. You can wait if you like. It’s your hair, after all.”

Kell’s eyes widened in shock. “Alright, I’ll trust you with that knife,” he decided.

There was something in Lila’s eye. She was satisfied. He hoped she would also know what she was doing, as she asked him to sit down nearby. This way, she would see his head better. She glanced around to see what needed to be cut. “It won’t take long, I promise,” she whispered in his ear, then her hand grabbed a fist full of his copper hair and she started working.

Kell heard the sound of the knife cutting, and sighed when he saw his hair flying in the wind. “Don’t throw it away like that,” he protested, and he heard Lila snort.

“I’m done,” Lila announced after a bit. “I have to say, I’m proud of this. Your hair was easy to fix, unlike mine.”

“Of course, since you can’t see the back of your head,” Kell mused, turning to frown at Lila. “Let’s see it,” he said, and produced a small mirror from his gray coat. It didn’t look too bad, until he saw something resembling blood on the back of his neck, which was staining the collar of his coat. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What do you think it is, Kell?”

Kell scowled at her, and stood up. “I thought you said you’d cut my hair, not my neck.”

“Hands slip, alright,” Lila shrugged. “It’s already drying.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, then opened his arm to welcome her closer. It was still cold.

Lila snuggled close to him, pressing her head on the side of his torso and her arm behind his back under his coat, while he secured his hand on her hip. “Next time you could cut my hair, if you want,” she proposed.

“Deal,” he agreed. Then he looked at Lila, and they exchanged an honest grin, and stared at the beauty of the sun rising above the open sea, the events of a few moments before already forgotten.

#adsom #kell maresh #lila bard #kelila #adsom fanfic #a darker shade of magic #shades of magic #som #a gathering of shadows #a conjuring of light #ve schwab #tweety.writes #kell and lila

27 notes · View notes

beebrainedstudios · 3 years

Text

Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile

Here’s a little hint of the Swapped AU! Specifically a rewrite of ADSOM’s opening chapter from a slightly-different-Kell’s perspective. No particular warnings here besides the briefest mentions of blood. If you have any thoughts, please share them- I’m curious- and if you’re a little confused about the AU, check out the tag adsom swapped au below. Enjoy!

Kell wore a very peculiar coat. It had many sides and many secrets and a personality all its own. Sometimes it ate what was slid into its pockets. Sometimes it spat out something new.

Presently, it was covered in blood.

Kell sighed and stopped walking, causing a few of the bolder passerby to nearly walk right into him; he didn’t spare the grumbling commoners a glance, far more preoccupied with the crimson dotting his coat’s hem, a mass of patches ranging from the size of a single coin to as large as his palm staining the thick white fabric. The blood was fresh, still dark, wet, and rich, its scent thick in the air. It coated the edge of his train until the entire thing was damp with it, even leaving its mark along the top of his boots from where they had met it as he walked. Most of the spots were smudged (smeared by both his passage into Red and the brush of his heels) but a few had managed to keep a solid border, the extra liquid seeping instead into the seams that ran along the coat’s edge. It had even made its way to the lining, darkening the grey fabric until it was the color of a night on fire.

He huffed, his mood souring as he started to shrug the coat from his shoulders. What a waste. He’d liked this one- it made him look bigger and was long enough to swish around his ankles, covering every inch of the bony mess he’d become and blowing dramatically as he walked. Now it was ruined. Kell supposed he had no one to blame but himself; he should have known Astrid would make him clean up the square after Lila’s escapade that morning. He’d been caught off guard by the command- getting ready to travel, packing his knives and gloves- and had already switched the coat around, leaving him trapped in it after the bond had sent him scrambling to finish the task.

Note to self, swap coats after the transfer next time.

The warm, breezy air of Red London sparked along his skin; it was far warmer than the blistering air of White, but it wasn’t enough, and he shivered as what little heat he’d managed to trap with his coat fled into the atmosphere. Arnes was in full summer, he was in half-sleeves, and still he felt like he’d stepped bare-chested into the Sijlt. He expected a little chill as a matter of course- an Antari’s magic was their source of warmth, an inner fire, and his had been doused with a bucket of ice water- but this was ridiculous. His magical coat was the only thing that kept his teeth from chattering; now he’d been forced to take it off, and even the few seconds exposed it took to change was enough to plunge him back into shivers.

After a minute of swapping his items from pocket to pocket, Kell set off once again for the palace, a new, dusky-red coat slowly warming his shoulders and replacing the lost heat. He kept a brisk pace, knocking people aside in his haste, eager to get away from the crowds and their peering eyes. Even a world away from home he kept his guard up, the distraction cooling his annoyance back into simmering discontent; he wasn’t allowed to waste time and he didn’t need to scuffle over stolen tokens, though the idea of a fight briefly warmed his smoldering magic. It had been too long since he’d unleashed his strength, even just a little. Perhaps he should goad Lila into a fight when he arrived back in White (not that she needed much goading). He’d regret it, but it would at least pass the time until nightfall and perhaps sate her long enough for him to catch a little sleep.

Focus.

Kell shook himself out of his thoughts, unsure if it was Astrid’s voice or his own in his ears, and looked up just in time to see a pair of royal guards spot him among the crowd. He was nearing the palace bridge, the red light of the river Isle beneath it visible even in the afternoon sun, and as the streets had approached it they had held more and more soldiers. The sight of the guards’ faces blanching white beneath their helmets lifted Kell’s spirits slightly; he liked it when the guards saw him, trying not to cower as they ran to alert the king. He gave this particular pair a cheeky wave and one of his special smiles, feeling it slip onto his lips the moment a palace-goer's eyes landed on him. Astrid’s hold tightened on his heart then, a flash of pressure, and vindictive as he was feeling he didn’t mind it. Just this once.

Smile, Kell. Let them see your teeth.

He ran his tongue along his sharpened teeth as he watched them go, their cloaks little more than white flags, savoring the fear on their faces. Then, he turned away from the street and set a new course for a nearby alleyway, already prepped for his arrival with the marks that would carve him a door into the palace. Walking through the streets of London was only necessary insofar as to get the guards’ attention; he never used the front door to the palace, preferring to slip in undetected as the guards informed the royals of the looming correspondence. A surprise visit forced Maxim to be honest, catching him off guard in the middle of some other task and letting Kell and his world slip unwanted into the forefront of his mind. Astrid approved.

With the flash of a knife and a tiny flicker of pain, the world of Red London bent around him until he was pulled through the alley wall and into the palace. He’d landed in the royal gardens, beside a mossy stone wall and a massive apple tree, its boughs still laden with fruit despite the dozen full baskets that had been laid out beneath it. Kell squinted at a particularly shiny specimen on a lower branch, observing it for a moment before reaching up and tearing it away from the tree. The air was thick with the scent of summer fruit, so full of it that Kell could practically taste the sweetness- the apple in his hand was no exception. He admired its dappled surface, wondering what spell had been cast to grow it- apples weren’t in season for another month or two- and what would happen if he actually ate it. On one hand, neither his queen nor his empress had expressly forbidden him to eat today, a slip of the mind no doubt, but they would still probably take the chance to discipline him. On the other, traveling was exhausting, it was right here, and he’d already torn it off of the tree.

Kell looked around, shrugged, and took a bite, mentally organizing his excuses as he ate. Well, they were sitting there unguarded and I thought it would aggravate the queen. She’s so manners-driven, she’d take it as an affront… Another bite, so sweet he nearly choked. Besides, I brought some back for you both… He bent down to retrieve two more apples from the baskets, searching for the best ones before sliding them into his coat pockets, which held them well despite their size. And you might be able to taste it in dinner’s blood, so it’s beneficial for everyone...

Astrid and Lila would still tear him to pieces for eating without permission, but that wasn’t any different from his usual living, and if four years of servitude had taught him anything it was when to pick his battles. Sometimes you had to let things go. Other times, you accepted the blows and picked the fight anyway because you would never get to eat or bare your teeth otherwise. Speaking of which-

“Master Kell!”

Kell caught the scent of a guard- they always stank of metal, though here he could also catch the faint chill of an air magician- and with a sigh he finished his treat and set the core aflame. The acrid burning sugar filled the air, smothering the copper tone of the guard’s magic, but Kell could already guess where his voice had come from. He turned towards a small arch carved in the wall, letting the ashes of the stolen fruit fall from his hand. A royal guard stood red-faced in the doorway, obviously winded from what Kell assumed was the hunt to find him. The man’s eyes trailed the burnt dust until it hit the ground, but he wisely decided to ignore it, instead nodding his head the way he had come. Kell didn’t miss the way he kept his gaze carefully averted; he distantly appreciated the guard’s concern, even if it wasn’t for his benefit, but it wasn’t much use for either of them. Kell’s cheeks had twisted up anyway.

Kell didn’t bother letting him speak. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” He said, pushing past the guard and into the rest of the gardens. He sniffed the air and started to walk, trailing the tangled scents of magic, searching for heat, for gold, for lilies and perfume. The guard huffed and trotted after him, unwilling either to stop him or to leave him alone. “Let’s see, it took ten minutes this time for one of you,” Kell mused, speaking idly to his companion. The guard behind him flushed- they were usually much quicker about finding him, but in their defense he’d been quieter about his entrance so he could eat without discovery. “And I was seen almost what, half an hour ago? The royal family must be close. Taking tea by the pond?” Queen Emira was predictable- she always took her tea where she could relax and watch the fish while Maxim and Rhy bickered.

“I will show you to them-”

“No need,” Kell cut him off with a laugh, watching with delight as the panting guard went even redder. He’d already caught the scent, confirming his suspicions about the royals’ whereabouts. “I’m very good at finding my way.” He stopped suddenly, letting his follower stumble past him, before he pointed in the direction of another arch, several voices heard spilling through it. Their destination. A booming laugh cracked through the air, echoing off of the path and walls. Kell’s smile widened, more snarl then grin, but he kept his tone light. “Tell you what, why don’t you go ahead and tell your king I’m here since he obviously hasn’t heard yet, and we can both pretend that you found me when I first came. Deal?” The guard didn’t move, and Kell could practically see his mind turning, weighing the choice between showing incompetence and leaving a foreign magician unguarded. Kell’s eyes narrowed, and his smile twisted further into an angry grimace. The man went white at the sight, his eyes darting along Kell’s teeth, no doubt surprised by the four sharpened fangs and the twisting scars beside them.

Kell nodded towards the arch, this time unable to hide his impatience. “Go. Shoo. Now.” The guard jumped at the growl and with no more contemplation sprinted for the archway. As soon as he was alone, Kell sighed and rubbed the rigor mortis out of his cheeks, drifting over to one of the numerous statues filling the square, a jagged image of a roaring lion, an armed soldier mounted on its back. The blood on his arm was still fresh, and it took him no time at all to paint a new mark along the soldier’s shield. The palace staff would probably find it- there was no time to find a better hiding place- but he still had plenty of entrances stashed around, and this one would serve fine as a decoy. He then pulled his sleeve back down and returned his knife to his sheath, wondering what mood he’d find the king in today. Perhaps if he was lucky he’d manage to avoid the princes; Rhy was little more than a minor annoyance, all too-bright sunshine and confidence, but the other…

Play nice, Kell. My brother will be your king one day.

“Master Kell, the king will see you now.”

Another smile spread like frost across his face, tight as cord and just as binding. Kell looked towards the attendant who’d summoned him, wondering if Astrid’s smiles ever met his eyes. As he walked through the arch and into the next garden, he could guess probably not; the king, the royals, and the staff all looked politely uncomfortable, as if a wolf had asked them out to tea. Good. He didn’t want to get too chummy.

“Hello, your majesties.” He said, too loudly and with too much charm. “Did I hear it was somebody’s birthday?”

#if you thought kell was snippy before #swapped kell is worse #though to be fair #dealing with astrid and lila together can be a little stressful #adsom #adsom fic #a darker shade of magic #kell maresh #lila bard #rhy maresh #astrid dane #athos dane #the dane twins #bee writes #adsom swapped au #adsom fanfic #a faded shade of magic

13 notes · View notes