#bless her heart and her many dotted lists

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

The Prince of Shadows - Chapter Two

( image of Karl belongs to this artist!! )

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Chapter One - Here

Rating - T

Words - 2,186

Mother Miranda is a true visage, a golden sight, one that can typically only be seen in carefully mastered paintings that are centuries old. Despite being a century herself, she is as young and as beautiful as she was the day that tragedy befell her. Her features are flawless and still with enough wear to speak of her hardships, telling of how much she’s earned her place as their goddess.

She isn’t a very tall woman, yet standing on the wooden stage of the old church, surrounded by melting candles and candelabras that burn brightly despite the morning sun, she seems almost as tall as Lady Dimitrescu herself. Her six great black wings outstretched in their command of respect adding to her size, her golden halo glinting in the sun beams that beat down warm through the gaps in the vaulted ceiling, exaggerating her height even further. Her long black robes, the beautifully detailed stole around her neck draping to the floor, expertly embroidered with the crests of her four lords, the vertical angles all exaggerate and compliment her frame. Each tiny detail of her clothing and shiny jewelry speak to the true wonder that she is. Dark and merciful in ways understood by no man outside of the village. Sacred and worshiped by the people she looked over. Revered and respected by her lords. Blessed and graced by the power of the megamycete- the Black God.

To her right-

Lady Dimitrescu. Her first success in giving her gift, the cadou. Her staggering height of over nine feet tall reflecting her greatness rivaled only by that of Mother Miranda herself. She holds herself gracefully, with less of an iron fist than that of Mother Miranda. More fluid and graceful, yet poised and ready, as if she were a pet snake prepared for a threat, eager to show her fangs- or rather, claws.

The dress that drapes down her oversized frame, tight in places that would test the will of any man, pure white in color all except for the very end of the skirt and edges of her sleeves. Stained with dirt and dried blood, with flecks of fresh red dotting the sleeve, paint a brutal picture of the lady. Elegant in nature yet vicious and unforgiving, her pure white clothing tainted as she herself had once been betrayed before her arrival in the village. Oldest next to Mother Miranda and Lord Heisenberg she’s called the castle her home for decades. Mother to three daughters she guards with every ounce of herself. She’s similar to the goddess in many ways, honoring her own matriarch in her service to her.

Following-

Lady Beneviento. The young girl frozen in her age, as they all were with the cadou, shrouded in black dress and veil. Her presence is the most cold, rigid, always seeming as if she were attending a funeral each day. Her sorrow hangs over her like a rain cloud. Misery and pain that follows her like her own shadow. Loss is ever prevalent with her, the memories of the family she once adored lingering with her, stored in her aching heart.

Upon her lap sits the gift from her father, Angie, whom had once been a simple hand crafted marionette, given new life with a piece of Lady Beneviento’s cadou. Her animated personality is a contrast to her own, somber and passive where Angie is lively and instigative. Though Lady Beneviento only seldom speaks, her voice is soft and sweet like a melody, Angie speaks high and vocals rough. It’s as if Angie were a piece of her that died the day her family did, only magnified. She serves as the vessel to speak for the Lady in most cases. More bold than she would ever be since the great loss.

To Mother Miranda’s left-

Lord Heisenberg. If Lady Dimitrescu was Mother Miranda’s right hand then Lord Heisenberg would be her left. He is of the only who saw her emerge from the grieving mother she began as to the imperial goddess she became. Though he was not her first choice for the cadou he had been soon to follow, having not been immediately eager to risk a horrid transformation on such a trusted friend. Where Lady Dimitrescu had earned Mother Miranda’s respect, Lord Heisenberg had it from the start.

He is perhaps opposite from Mother Miranda. A true king reflecting those of old. Well liked by many and as proud as he is popular. He’s far warmer than the rest and typically the first the villagers might approach should the great lords of the village be seen outside their respective domains. His long gray hair and beard and age lines in his face give the appearance of great wisdom and power. His clothing always reflects royalty, while not as detailed as Mother Miranda’s it's not quite as simple as Lady Dimitrescu’s. His long duster is lined with golden buttons down one side, gold thread in the loops on the other. His boots ink black and always perfectly polished, his silky red vest perfectly tailored, the cuffs of his sleeves adorned with his house’s horse crest. All he is missing is the crown and he’d look like a king of old. Almost as if he were modeling himself after the ancient statues carved around the ceremony site.

Finally-

Lord Moreau. Perhaps the most humble in appearance next only to Lady Beneviento’s. In fact, while the other lords’ styles were shiny and clean, fit perfectly to them and spoke volumes of their character, Lord Moreau made do with tattered clothing that he could manage to fit his miserable frame. While honored to have received the cadou from Mother Miranda, it twisted his body and caused horrid formations that made looking like the others a chore. Still, he tried his best with a crown, fashioned out of bones of both men and fish alike.

Where Lady Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg reflected femininity and masculinity, and Lady Beneviento resembled the duality of personalities- Lord Moreau was the contrast of beauty to grotesqueness. Not only were his siblings beautiful in their own royal ways along with their mother, but his family crest resembled a beautiful mermaid. They couldn’t be further from his own image. Yet Lord Moreau found it hard to despise himself when it meant serving under the hand of Mother Miranda. He is the most eager and obedient next to the villagers to serve her. He lacks any sort of perfect physical appearance and makes up for it in his loyalty. He’d go to great lengths to please Mother Miranda and show that he’s capable of keeping up with the other lords in their experiments to further Mother’s research.

And in the light of the morning sun they stand, holding council in the old church that’s almost as old as the village itself. Once a place of worship for Christianity’s God now serves as the place of judgment of those who acted against the grace of Mother Miranda’s firm hand with the lords acting as jury. The sight of them alone is enough to send knees trembling and hearts weeping for mercy in their defiance. Yet there was very little for men who had no faith in their persevering leadership.

“Who are you to beg for forgiveness?” Says Mother Miranda, gazing down at the accused, a man from the village, suspected of hearsay and acts against the Black God. Her words echo off the large structure, adding grandeur to her voice as she speaks.

“Nicholas, Nicholas Albescu,” the man answers, such is the format for the court, an admittance of identity in the village, declaring one's name in hopes of forgiveness. No waiver to his voice, no bend of his knees. Not like the others who beg upon their feet for reconsideration.

“What do you say of these claims against yourself?” She asks, knowing already how she’ll judge him. Only the lords knew these trials were fallacies. Heretics are perfect vessels for experiments whether they were guilty or not. Mother Miranda has no fondness for anyone in the village, a truth that no one will ever know, not when they revere her and believe in her magnificence.

“Lies,” he spits, standing firm and proud and Lord Heisenberg lets slip a curt chuckle at the man’s defiance. His sense of self worth is hilarious and a quick glance at Lady Dimitrescu tells him that she feels the same, a small grin of amusement playing at her lips. They share the same view of the villagers- a means to an end.

Mother Miranda seems irritated in how she glowers at them, a cynical stare at the pair for their behavior. Yet their outward display of amusement plays into her final decision.

“I’ve made my judgment,” she begins, only for the man to cut her off-

“Does it matter?”

A silence befalls the court. Rarely does one so boldly go against the goddess let alone in her own holy domain.

When she speaks again it’s a quiet hiss just loud enough to be heard. “To you?” She scowls, “it should.”

The man is suddenly unnerved, his rigid posture suddenly turning in on itself as he waivers. It occurs to Lady Dimitrescu that he had perhaps expected to get off for his bravery. Now as he stands before them he realizes his foolishness, that he’s only sealed his doom. It only serves to delight her. If only his blood could be her’s, it would surely make fine wine…

But she knows just as well as the others that Mother Miranda has the say in who’s prey the guilty becomes.

“Lady Beneviento,” Mother Miranda’s booming voice returns as she addresses one of her beloved lords, “see to it that this man understands the weight of his unfaith.”

Lady Beneviento simply nods, her veil completely covering her face so no emotion at her prize is shown, only Angie’s gleeful giggles to give it away.

The poor man. He’ll suffer the weight of his own fears under her hand. Forced to endure horrid sights and cruel imagery that will feel all too real.

Serves him right.

After its dismissal, when everything is said and done, Lord Heisenberg follows Lady Dimitrescu the short distance back to her castle, coming to a stop within the grand entryway.

“Your insistence is getting quite annoying,” she says, looking down on him as she lights a cigarette, “come to see if I’ve changed my mind already?”

“Well? Have you?” Lord Heisenberg asks, uncertainty beginning to creep in. He doesn’t need her for his plan but he’d much rather have her at his side. He trusts her more than anyone else with this.

She’s silent a moment as she ponders, staring at the portrait of her female ancestors whom she named her daughters after. “Not yet,” she states finally.

Lord Heisenberg breathes a quiet sigh of relief, “Good,” he nods, “I was worried I’d have to remind you why we decided on this in the first place.”

“You don’t have to,” Lady Dimitrescu looks back to him after another drag off the cigarette, “Though I should point out how well she seemed today.”

“Yes but she was rushing it. Remember how much she used to milk it? Drag out the sentencing until the defiant were sobbing? She’s lost her passion,” Lord Heisenberg points out, fanning away the smoke that makes it to his face.

“Passion for suffering? You should consider she has better things to do brother,” despite how none of the lords were truly related, Lord Heisenberg was the only one she’d consider herself close to in that regard, and the only man she’d ever trust.

“Better things as in devoting all her time to children she no longer has? Wasting precious resources on lost causes? Her grief is consuming her. She doesn’t have the privilege of Lady Beneviento, to sit around and wallow. She has a village to care for. Now I could excuse it back then. But now? I can’t sit by and watch as she lets this place rot and become infested with unbelievers,” Lord Heisenberg rants, pacing in his speech. He’s always been good with words. Expressive even as he delivers them, selling himself and his ideas all in one.

Lady Dimitrescu isn't any more convinced now than she had been when he first trusted her with his concerns. Though she isn’t put off by them either, she understands how important leadership is. She least of all hasn’t been blind to how much of the rule over the village has been placed on her and her fellow lords. Mother Miranda has relied more and more on them to do the work for her, only showing her face for meetings and judgements, hiding herself away in her lab the rest of the time. It wasn’t something they could afford. Not with more and more heretics coming out of the woodwork. Soon they’d have a revolt if they weren’t careful, if they even suspected for a minute their goddess didn’t care for them.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Lady Dimitrescu reiterates, “Now, will you be staying for dinner?”

#resident evil #re8 #mother Miranda #alcina dimitrecu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #lord heisenberg #alternate universe #fanfic #the prince of shadows

[poptod]

hey there ☺ do you think you can write a soulmate au with ahk where you hear each other's thoughts? and ahk thought he didn't have one all these years only to hear you while he's at the museum and then you try to find each other?

notes: wonderful idea. also i noticed my method of doing requests is do it almost immediately after i get it or wait four months before i get it done so sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy this!

WC: 1.5k +

There are many versions of yourself, all talking over one another in an attempt to control your mind for once. Sometimes it's hard to decipher if your actions are the result of someone in your head tugging you in a different direction. There is the person you believe yourself to be––what you imagine you come off to people as. There is also the person you truly are, and what people actually perceive you to be. So despite there being several voices, they are all reiterations of yourself in some way.

Except for one.

One of them speaks in a voice that is not your own, in a voice you've never heard anywhere but echoing in your skull. Since you despised asking questions as a child, it took you until you were twelve to realize that no, you weren't insane. It was someone who would love you, who had the potential to grow close to you simply by the strings of fate. Your soulmate. 

Someone who gave you nightmares for years.

'Get me out of here!' He would scream, sending your heart pounding while you tried to sleep as a child. 'Please, please, I need to see the stars,' he sobbed, 'I did nothing to deserve this!'

Once you grew old enough to deal with the screaming beyond what you thought was a schizophrenia disorder, nighttime brought a deep sadness to you. For some reason, your soulmate would never think during the day––which was incredibly odd––and during the night, the only time he was awake, he would scream and beg and cry until you could feel the hoarseness in your own throat. For your entire childhood, you stared up at your ceiling at night, eyes burning as you tried to calm the screaming.

It was all you could think about, as though the screams had muted your connection to him and strengthened his connection to you. Every now and then you would try to think, try to calm him down, but he never quite heard.

Then, one evening in winter, it stopped.

You were lying in bed, rolled onto your side as you once again listened to the man's yelling thoughts. But then he stopped, and both your hearts skipped a beat, followed by an incredibly clear thought: Thank the Gods, blessed Ra and Khonsu.

That evening you darted out of bed, jumping to your desk where you typed in with slamming, lightning-fast fingers, "khonsu." Ra you already knew––everyone knew Ra, and by connection Khonsu would probably also be a God. The only question you were left with was why you were hearing the thoughts of someone who worshipped Egyptian gods two thousand years after that civilization died.

As you continued your research, his thoughts continued.

They took my tablet?

Who are these people?

This man has no idea what he's doing, does he?

Why is he screaming at the Hun?

He's got my tablet.

About halfway into the night you gave up on your research, instead listening intently to the thoughts. With you entirely absorbed in your soulmates thoughts, you had little room to send your own words to him, which unbeknownst to you, would've reached him if you tried.

You weren't quite sure what to think of him for the following couple weeks. At first your assumption was that he was the insane one projecting his insane thoughts to you, but his quieter thoughts led you to believe there was something different in him. It is true what they say––geniuses are often tortured minds, and though you wouldn't classify your soulmate as a genius, he was clearly a knowledgeable philosopher of sorts.

He thought often of the human condition––the rise and fall of civilizations, the cruelty and the mercy of men that began the stories of bloodstained battlefields. Most of the time you just listened. Now that he wasn't screaming, his voice was soft and more of a comfort than you ever thought it would be.

Sometimes he got very sad. After a while you learned to not question the logic of his thoughts. Instead, you simply tried to understand what he meant, accepting him for where he was in his life.

I miss my brother.

I wonder what happened to my best friend.

I didn't think I would ever be this far from the Nile and the sun.

I abandoned my people, didn't I?

If only I could find where my sister was buried. Would that even make me feel better, though? What closure will I gain from seeing her tomb?

... if she even had one.

There's a melody going on in his head, right now. Something that could put you to sleep if you weren't currently working. It's nothing you've heard before, that you're certain of, and judging by the tone of it and your soulmate's previous thoughts, it sounds Egyptian.

Despite the museum being closed, most of the lights are still on. One of the night guards had a very strange insistence about it, but wouldn't tell you why. Oh well––questioning people is above your paygrade, since you aren't getting paid for this. It is volunteer work. Not that you mind; ever since realizing the voice in your head was Egyptian, you've gotten a palate for history. Currently, however, you're dealing less with history and more with files. The curator at this museum asked you to sort through the records of all the different exhibits that are here, or were once here at some point, which made a very large collection. Massive, actually––you're only sorting through A, and it's going to take you a couple weeks.

He's humming softly to himself. The tune carries into your work, and you allow yourself to enjoy his voice as you sort, going over every record to look for exhibits no longer displayed. For this you have a chart in your other hand––a log of all the exhibits currently public in the museum.

Although you're supposed to be concentrated on your sorting, you find yourself more entranced with the melody in your head, and the clearest thought that rings in your mind is, 'that is beautiful.'

The humming stops. Dead in its' tracks, about to reach its' peak, and it stops.

'My mother sang it to me,' he says, 'before I slept as a child.'

"Holy shit, are you talking to me?" You say out loud with bulging eyes before you can stop yourself. The moment you realize what you said, a bright blush coats your cheeks and you slap your hand over your mouth. But he doesn't seem to mind––actually, he laughs, and it's sweeter than summer sugar.

'You must be my heart,' he says in an astounded tone, and you can practically see his dream-filled eyes. You sit puzzled for a second before replying.

"Do you mean your soulmate?"

'Well... I suppose yes, that could be one of the names,' he says, and it only adds more onto the lists of questions you have for him.

"What is your name?" You ask first, hardly realizing you're still talking aloud to yourself.

'My name is Ahkmenrah," he tells you, and it takes less than a millisecond before the dots connect in your head. Instantly your eyes dart to the sheet in your hand, and near the top of the list, there it sits––Ahkmenrah.

'I know this must be confusing for you,' he continues, 'but I am from another time. While I lived then, I dreaded that I didn't have a heart, as I heard no voice. That fear has carried on into my next life, but now that you're here –'

"Oh I'm here alright," you say, unbelieving of both your circumstances and your unblinking acceptance at them. "I'm, like, two floors below you."

"WHAT?!"

A voice from above catches you, but as the same word rings in your mind, you realize with great glee that he instinctively yelled 'what' without thinking. You laugh, and the thought of your laughter reaches him.

Less than a minute later you can hear footsteps pounding down the stairs, landing at the closed door before the handle wrenches open. You quickly move to your feet, facing the man whose voice you know so well, who haunted your childhood and enchanted your adulthood. You can barely hide the grin that spreads across your face––whatever magic has brought you to this moment, you thank everything you can for it, your attention ensnared by the soft features of a 4,000 year old Pharaoh.

He pauses once he enters the archive, eyes finding yours immediately. His mouth hangs open slightly as he scans you, absorbs every feature on your body and face, and barely moves even to breathe for a good minute or two.

"I – I'm sorry, I j – I just realized I didn't ask your name," he says quietly, a small, ginger smile growing on his lips.

"(Y/N)," you say, but you don't quite know how your brain worked to make the word. You certainly didn't consciously choose to speak.

"I have waited thousands of years for you," he says, impossibly softer as he steps forward. He's really quite harmless, you realize––for all the fear you had of him as a child, he's nothing but a sweet-faced boy.

"Was it worth it?" You ask, and your voice cracks ever so slightly.

"My heart," he breathes out, affection lacing his name for you, "it was worth every second."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eight

Read on AO3

“Tante Jenny! There is a rider near the gate!” Fergus shouted through the front doorway and sprinted away.

His dirk was poised in his grasp, ready to protect against any danger. The mule sauntered through the archway and snorted when its rider pulled against the reins to stop. 

 Claire slid off the horse and slammed into Fergus almost immediately. She gathered his body up against hers into a hug and rested her chin over the small curls that were growing even longer than before atop his head. 

“M-milady?” He stared, dumbfounded at the sight. 

 “Oh my Fergus, I’ve missed you so much my darling boy.” She smoothed the hair at the back of his head. Her tears fell unbidden into the little brown waves and began to soak through his hair like a steady rainfall. Fergus didn’t mind, he was also soaking her dress with his own tears. 

 “You have been restored maman.” He stated, still shocked. It didn’t pass her notice what he called her.

 “I love you mon fils. Let me look at you.” She pulled back slightly from the embrace to hold onto his cheeks with her hands. She brushed the hair that was on his forehead back and noticed the subtle changes of the boy. The bones of his face were slightly more defined and he had lost more of the roundness associated with adolescence. She even spotted two hairs on his upper lip that were darker and thicker than the soft downy hairs of the rest of his face. It would be years until it would fully develop into a beard, but she could tell what a handsome man Fergus would be. He just needed to do some more growing.

 She slowly noticed the pallor of his face and the dark purple and red hues under his eyes. The way the flesh of his bone was practically nonexistent. He clearly wasn’t getting substantial meals these days. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead again and her heart skipped in fear at the blazing temperature of it. 

 “Dear God, Fergus, you're burning up.”

 “Do not worry Milady. It’s only the winter sickness.” 

 There was a bulk inside the sleeve of his shirt and she pulled back the fabric to see Jenny’s attempt to bandage him. A long deep gash split through the skin of his inner arm. The skin around the wound was red and swollen, and she could see the tell tale signs of infection from the puss oozing from the centre.

 “What on earth happened to you Fergus?” 

 “Tis simply a scratch, Milady, dinna fash.” He tried to mimic his Scottish family’s accent, and if Claire’s concern wasn’t in overdrive at the moment, she would have laughed at how cute the boy was. “Milord said I was a brave lad that day. And braw.” He beamed with confidence and pride.

 “I’m sure you were.” She hugged him tight into her side. “Come inside, I need to examine your wound.” 

 “Fergus what stray ha’ ye brought in today? We dinna need more mouths to feed, especially wi’ young Jamie in his sickbed now too.” Jenny called around the corner of the kitchen, fixated on chopping the potatoes for supper. 

 “Auntie, Milady has returned to us.” He beamed, leading her inside on his arm. “I always told you she would.”

 The knife Jenny was holding clattered onto the floor. She crossed herself as all the colour drained from her cheeks. 

 “Blessed Michael defend us.” Her hand clutched at her heart. 

 “Jenny- I.” What words could she possibly say now? “It’s so good seeing you again.” She stared down where Jenny was protectively holding her middle. “A fourth?” 

 “Thank Christ yer here. We dinna have time to waste.” And without a single inquiry over her return, Jenny dragged her up the stairs to the children’s room. 

 The children were all tucked tightly into their beds. Wee Kitty gurgled in her Bassinet. Her small breaths were interrupted by sharp whimpers of pain. Claire’s heart fell at the somber scene before her. 

 “Ian?”

 “That useless, floppy-haired nonce can bide.” 

 “Fergus go fetch some water to boil, and lots of clean cloth. Do we have deer or chicken bone to boil?”

 “Aye.”

 “Great, can you make a broth out of it with whatever vegetables we have? Oh and um-” Her brain paused, racking her memory for the proper words. “Garlic or Rosemary too. They won’t be able to stomach any solid foods for a while, so they’ll need to sip on broth to keep their strength up.” 

 Jenny left for the door but paused near Claire. She squeezed her shoulder. “I dinna ken how yer here, or where ye’ve been these past months, but I am glad to have ye back. Just know I’m going to have some choice words wi’ ye once they all heal.”

 “I’d imagine you would.” Claire smiled brightly and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I missed you too Jenny.”

 Once she had situated the children in the sick room. She brought Fergus along with her to inspect the gash across his arm. 

 “You never did tell me.” 

 “It was a bayonet, from a redcoat. I was holding wee Kitty and they thought she was a sack of grain so they lunged for me. I protected her maman.” He grinned with pride at the memory. 

 “Oh God, Fergus.” She embraced him, careful of his arm. “Though that never should have happened, I’m proud of what you did. My brave boy.” She patted his hair affectionately. “How long ago were they here?”

 “Less than a fortnight maman. A week after they were gone, les enfantés were struck with la petite vérole.” 

 “Those bastards!” They had not only brought fear, pain, and strife into her home- Jenny’s home, she corrected herself, they had brought their disease as well and the threat that carried. 

 She returned her attention to his arm and carefully cleansed it. Jenny had brought alcohol down for her and she told Fergus to be prepared for the sting. He assured her he wasn’t afraid. With the puss and dried blood removed, she carefully poked around the wound. Claire asked if any of it was painful but he immediately gritted out a non. It wasn’t healing on its own and she was concerned. She couldn’t stitch it up with the infection she assumed was waging a war inside it, so all she could do was wrap it in clean cloth every few hours with garlic paste. When Claire went up to the Laird’s room to check on Ian, her breath quickened and her hands became slick with sweat. Ian insisted he didn’t need any coddling and he didn’t want to see his wife up there until he was healthy. Jenny and her worked simultaneously together to heal young Jamie, Maggie, Kitty, their father, and Fergus. They were thankful for the snow to help bring down fever, but also cursed the season for bringing sickness in the first place. Ian sprang back instantly and returned to work on the farm the next morning. Maggie and Kitty were worried for the scars left by the smallpox lesions, but Claire assured them they wouldn’t be terrible. It had spared their faces, and only a small amount of red dots lined their arms. Jamie was proud to add more scars onto his list, and proud to say he fought the monster and won.

 When her nephew and niece's fevers began to break, Fergus took a turn for the worse. She had prayed that the smallpox would pass over him, but it came back with a vengeance. The infection from the bayonet wound and the virus coupled together, left Claire severely worried. 

 She worked tirelessly with Jenny by her side. Never once did she leave Fergus’ room and her sister had begun to worry about her as she simply stared blankly off towards the wall clutching the sickly boy’s hand in hers. Jenny had found her in such a state many times, as if her mind wandered off but she didn’t want to bring it up. When no one was looking, Claire would open the small case of vials and a syringe from her leather travel bag. Fergus didn’t notice the slight pinch of the needle to his rear and grumbled no complaint to her in his delirious state. The Reverend couldn’t smuggle much medicine, most of what he pilfered was what had been discarded behind the hospital in a dumpster. But this small amount of penicillin he had managed, made Claire want to reach out through the veil of time and kiss him in thanks. 

 The infection was healing nicely, but there was still the smallpox coursing through his body. With his body pulled between fighting two foreign enemies, his energy was quickly fading into a weakened state. 

 “Claire, it’s time. We have the certificate ready. I’ve sent the priest down from the kirk to-”

 “No! I will not give up on my son!” She yelled with such ferocity, that Jenny stumbled back a few steps. None of the anger seeped through to the limp hand of Fergus that she was holding, and she kissed it gently while her body shook with rage at the suggestion. 

 “If the lad doesna earn his last rites, dinna say it was my fault.” Jenny slipped away to care for her now rambunctious children, who had bounced back from their sickness immediately. 

 That night, she never slept, and took up her usual spot beside his bed. It would get worse, before it got better. Claire was elated at the signs that his fever would soon break. 

 “Would you like me to tell you a story?”

 “Mmm.” 

 “Well, there once was a brave knight. He found a faerie at the bottom of the standing stones, and knew right away that she was his. He loved her, and protected her fiercely. They were blessed with three beautiful brave children. Two angels, and one son of their heart.” Somehow it was easier for her to pretend she was speaking about someone else. “There was a great evil that the knight had to vanquish. It was-“ She pursed her lips in thought. “It was threatening their angel babies, so the knight had to leave his faerie and guard their daughters in heaven. The faerie returned to protect her son.”

 Fergus while laid fevered and asleep. Claire smoothed back the crusty hair from his forehead sticky with sweat. “Je t'aime mon fils. Être fort.  Je sais que vous êtes.” Fergus stirred slightly. 

 “Je t’aime maman.” His smile and voice were weak. 

 She kissed his forehead and he slumped back into his slumber. 

 Jenny stood in the doorway smiling, on the verge of tears at the sight. It felt such a personal moment between mother and son, that she didn’t want to interrupt. But when Claire lapsed into silence, she took a tentative step into the room. 

 “The worst of it is over.” Jenny said, both as statement and question. 

 “Yes.” 

 “Good, now we can talk sister.” 

 “Yes, I believe we should.” 

 “Why- why’d ye leave my brother? I’ve kent ye well over these past few years, and I’d

never imagine that you’d just give him up so willingly. Ye’d die wi’ him if it came to it.” 

 “He made me promise that- well we knew how Culloden would end up, everyone could 

feel how much of a defeat it would be. He forced me to-“ Her brain felt muddled, keeping track of all the half-truths in her mind. “board a boat to France for the safety of our child.” Tears sprung into her eyes at that admission and her hand extended from her stomach absentmindedly, as if she was holding her belly at six months, the furthest she had been in either of her pregnancies. “Red Jamie couldn’t escape the fate of Culloden but his wife the Stuart Witch could, no one would recognise me. But I- I came back for Fergus and you, Ian, your children. I know that’s what he would’ve wanted. I just wish I knew, if he really-”

 “Ye eejit he isna dead! That dunderheid is holed up in a cave somewhere on these lands, 

grieving ye terribly.”

 “He’s- he’s alive?” A lump formed in her throat. “I didn’t want to hope that-“ 

 “Why on earth would ye think he’s dead! If ye had written letters to us. To let us ken ye 

were safe, we’d tell your daft arse to come back home! But of course, ye couldna spare us that much mind.” 

 “I’m sorry Jenny, I wasn’t in a safe place to send you letters. A man wanted to marry 

me.” Yes, years ago. “After I lost- he put me in an asylum when I refused his advances. I had to escape him after I lost-“ Jenny’s expression softened and she nodded, not in understanding, but in acceptance of what she had done. It didn’t do well to dwell on the past for too long. 

 “Well ye seem dead on yer feet, I’ll go take out all this anger on Ian.” Claire chuckled 

and then kissed Jenny’s cheek. “Wi’ him out and healthy again, the Laird’s room will be free enough but I dinna want ye to be lying in that sickbed so soon.” 

 “It’s yours now.” 

 “Ye ken Jamie and ye will always be Laird and Lady to the tenants. And no, Ian and I

occupy the same room we have fer years. I just stuck him in the Laird’s room because I was irritated at him groaning and shivering in our bed.” 

 Claire laughed, but felt bad for poor Ian who had unknowingly become the subject of 

Jenny’s ire these past few days. 

 She was in the courtyard, while Jamie made his way back to Lallybroch. A deer slung over his shoulders and buckets of water weighed down his arms. He took in the sight of his wife and nearly fainted. The buckets he had carried dropped to the ground with a snap and rolled across the yard. The stiff deer slumped to the ground over the mud. 

 It was the first word he had croaked in months, “Sassenach.” The sound didn’t reach her ears but she could read off his lips the endearment she knew all too well.

 Even with Jenny’s confirmation, she couldn’t believe the apparition before her. But could she have imagined him this way? Haggard and weary from months living in a cave. A bonnet slanted across his red hair to hide the bold colour. His beard had grown considerably from the scruff she was so familiar with. But the thing she couldn’t possibly imagine in her head was the haunted look on his face. The dark circles under his eyes and the gaunt nature of his face echoed his grief.  

 “No I’m. This isn’t- the after effects of the electroshock therapy” she mumbled. 

 She felt woozy, and her head was full of fluffy clouds. She regained her balance swiftly but stared unwavering at Jamie. His heart chilled, as if she was staring straight through his soul, but couldn’t see it. 

 “Claire I dinna ken what ye’re saying lass.”

 She gasped at his hand on her forearm. “You’re real.” 

 “And so are ye. Christ when Jenny told me to get my hide back here, I dinna ken it was really true.” She fell into him and he wrapped his strong arms across her back. 

 “Oh, God. Jamie. Oh God.” Claire’s breath rattled onto his cheek. “Just hold me.”

 She trembled in his arms, months of exhaustion, fear, pain, and heartache expressing themselves. 

 “I’m sorry Jamie. I’m so sorry. I - the stones.” 

 “What’re you apologising for lass?” He choked out. “Claire -the bairn?” She couldn’t meet his eyes. 

 She felt the need to run and hide as she did in the arbor of Fontainebleau. She didn’t want to face what was before her, what was behind. How could she let Jamie forgive her when she couldn’t herself? As if she were putting a sheet of metal between her and her heart, she suddenly felt nothing. 

 “She’s dead.” She said simply, staring at a chipped stone on the ground. 

 This time Jamie did collapse, and took Claire tumbling down to his lap. They held tight to one another, and Claire was the one to comfort him now. His tears soaked the wool of her bodice as he rocked them back and forth on the steps. When his eyes couldn’t produce anymore tears, he slowly peeked out of his shell. Jamie rose slowly from his spot on the steps when the sun crawled below the horizon and carried her with him to the Laird’s room. 

 Claire stripped him down to his sark and was prepared to ask for water, when she saw someone had already completed the task. She resumed her task and shed his final layer, exposing his naked body. It was filthy and covered in scratches, but beautiful to her all the same. When she began to direct him into the washing tub, he objected and began to take off her clothes with a practiced hand. As he reached for the final string of her shift, she moved his hand away. 

 “No, tonight I bathe you.” 

 She pushed him down into the small tub and his knees poked out of the water. The ewer sat on the wooden table near the tub, and she plucked it up with her fingers. She grabbed a sponge as well, and began her ministrations, leaning over the lip of the tub to reach him. She grabbed some scissors as well, trimming the beard that had grown over the months in the woods. 

 “Can ye ever forgive me?” A dejected Jamie asked. 

 “For what?” She knew, but she wanted to hear the words coming from him. 

 “For sending you through those stones, for breaking our family.” 

 “I already have.” 

 “What did she- Was she like her sister?” 

 “I don’t know.” Claire worried at her lip. “I- um. I lost her when I went through the stones. I only know she was a girl, because I felt her presence when I came back. She said she loves us.” She began to scrub harder against Jamie’s arm with the sponge to distract herself. 

 The pang in his chest nearly brought his head below surface of the water. All the air in his lungs fled and he was left with nothing. He stopped Claire’s arm and brought her hand to his, squeezing it tight. 

 “Will you ever forgive me?” 

 “Fer what lass?”

 “Not being strong enough. Not protecting her in the one way I could. Not returning to you soon enough.” 

 “I’ve already forgiven ye for anything ye could ever possibly do. And yer not to blame for any of those.” 

 “Then you’re not either. If there is, it’s God for being a cruel bastard. You say you can forgive me for anything, but I’m not sure I can give you what we want anymore.” 

 “What I want is you by my side. Come in the water Sassenach, let me hold my wife. Let me carry this burden wi’ ye.” 

 With the dim light of the fire and candles dotting the room, she was confident he wouldn’t be able to see her body fully. She slugged out of her shift, weighed down by weeks of exhaustion and crawled in between his legs. Water splashed out of the top of the tub, but they paid it no mind. Jamie repeated the ministrations Claire had provided for him, but even more gently on her smooth skin. When she began to doze off tucked safely between his thighs in the water, they were both wrinkly like prunes. Jamie carried her body wrapped tight around his, and placed her on the fresh sheets. 

 He held her naked on their bed. The smooth skin of her back was pressed against the soft tufts of hair on his chest. They needed to talk, but for now, neither wanted to leave the warm bubble of each other’s arms. Jamie was still processing what it all meant, and so was Claire, even after months of enduring it herself. No words could repair the loss they both felt, and the heartache of time spent apart. It would just feel like a hollow repetition of events after their first born. But tonight they would just simply be. Claire looked down at her sleeping husband. For the first time in months, she felt safe. She lightly traced the skin of his face, from temple to cheek, and saw the familiar smile ghost his peaceful rest. She spread a grin in response, the first one that reached her eyes in months.

#outlander fanfiction #adsofraser writing #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #craigh na dun #claire fraser #frank randall #canon divergence #claire beauchamp #fergus fraser #jenny murray #lallybroch #outlander fanfic

[raventons]

The list of names

*scary music playing* Ok, guys, in the light of American Middle Eastern policy, that has once again brought me to tears, I decided to do something a bit happier (this is me trying to influence my followers to read the news and fight for the right thing and all that jazz). I’ve got a lot of asks recently, mostly from people new to the world of CC, about which creators are the best, so I’ve made this little list of the creators I download and use the most. This is not in any way a complete collection, I might have forgotten someone (and there’s also plenty of creators I haven’t discovered yet). Also, these are all build creators, mainly creating alpha CC. Please feel free to add to this list. Also also, the description I’ve used for the artists are totally my own making, so if you are a creator and feel like I am describing your work in an unfair way, go ahead and punch me in the face.  If I was a new simmer, I would check out these creators:  Retired: MXIMS - Makes modern, real life furniture with the best quality. Has many downloads left on their website.  MINCSIMS - Similar to MXIMS (with some amazing collabs), also with a beautiful talent for doors and windows. Not many objects left in orbit, but google is your friend.  DAER0N - Done everything from noodles to palms, but the recent Daer0n I would describe as gold, dark and modern, with 3D modeling skills out of this world. Retired, and much of the old stuff is gone, but some can be found at bloomingrosy.  DOX - Similar to Daer0n with a slightly stricter, more wooden approach. The most underrated one of the retired giants. Has some downloads left on their website. ANBS - Super clean aesthetic. Modern, real life furniture. Many downloads left on their website. SLYD - Mostly known as a CAS creator, but has the amazing shoes and bags available as decor. All downloads left on the website.  HVIKIS - Wallpapers and wall art. All downloads left on the website. VIIKIITA - Recolors to die for. Not many objects left in orbit, but google is your friend. Active (I think. I hope. I don’t know):  ARSBOTANICA - Previously simshamlet. Does really lovely, vintage aesthetic perfume bottles and amazing flowers. SLOX - A personal favorite. Modern, I’d say. And realistic. But often with objects you didn’t even know you needed, that ends up being the main inspiration for the whole build. Like some folded shirts, or a stack of books. 13PUMPKIN -  A long with Artvitalex this is the best wood creator in the community. The sets are kind of like “small-lovely-family-home”-style, but can be used in big, modern builds with equally outstanding results.  WONDYMOON - My by far most used creator. The most organized one too, I’d say. All sets match eachother, and are easy to find (and are all named by elements, this guy is a rock star). PYSZNYDESIGN - The Kilburn set is to die for.  MEINKATZ - Literally replicas of real life furniture, with their history and all. Honestly the coolest thing ever. Also, a really nice person.  PRALINESIMS - The best floor and wall creator, hands down. I don’t know if this is really the person I should tag tho, so I’ll tag @cross-design​ and hope for the best because I honestly still don’t know who is who. I love them both tho. THE TSR GIANTS: SEVERINKA, KARDOFE, UNG999, SIMMAN123, PILAR, ARTVITALEX, ANGELA, DOT, BUFFSUMM, SHINO and NYNAEVE - Yes, a lot of the creators I mention here are active on TSR and a lot of my TSR giants are active elsewhere, but I still, maybe arbitrary, like to put these under the TSR flag because they represent that wonderful vibe of big sets, certain room types and signature colors. PEACEMAKER - a true legend. Some of the CC is borderline MM, but that is what makes them so perfect. They go with both themes. MIO - This is the first creator I downloaded from and they will always have a special place in my heart. Brilliant conversions, flower sets, seating, everything.  NOVVVAS - A way too humble person that claims she is not the best in the game, when she truly is out of this world. RIGHTHEARTED - who I have been referring to as neiden my whole life because I am an idiot.  TINGELINGLATER - Does a lot of things but blessed all of us with windows and since then I am in love.  ANYE - Pinkbox Anye, to be correct. Lovely person. Lovely sets. Unique eyes. Adore this one.  FOREVERDESIGNS - Will literally transform your bedroom. And kitchen. And life.  BLACKMOJITOS - Build sets and sexy, stunning posters (and a basket every now and then). Also up for commissions, I just noticed. Go throw money at her. She is amazing.  KAI-HANA - Has a totally unique style, where everything is alpha, but still has a beautiful, clayish touch to it. Underrated.  AROUNDTHESIMS - A bit on the MM side, so if you’re looking for that MM/alpha mix, this is for you. Extremely productive. Does everything and more.  CHERRY-SIMS - A part from the CC, this is also the best picture editor I’ve ever seen. I am a huge fan!  CONCEPTDESIGN - Did someone say trees? YUMIA - Soft flowers, old school touch, vintage AGGRESSIVEKITTEN - Literally killed half the community with the recent brutalism set, which without a doubt will be voted best CC of 2020. Also, where else would you go for both beautiful, vintage objects AND a tarot card reading? Weirdly obsessed with seals. Makes amazing lots. I love you.  DSCO - I gave up trying to spell this creators full name after the sixth attempt. I would describe the CC as cute. But not in the condescending (that I could spell) way. More in a bad-ass-I-need-all-of-these-objects-kind-of-way! KKB - My ignorant and uneducated ass wants to call it Korean, and I am sorry if this isn’t the right way to describe anything. Soft, pastel but at the same time very cool, with rattan and wood.  DR GREENIE - Former Green Girl. Mostly MM, but has made some of my most used decor objects.  HELEN - Extremely productive. Does everything.  NIKADEMA - Has made my favorite sink!  PQSIMS - Makes sets. Usually light wood.  LUNATICAVILLAGE (2SIS) - Another underrated favorite. Everyone should go here and show as much love as possible! LAVI3ENROSE - A creator that entered my world quite recently. Art deco. Bronze. Gold. And the best wrapped Christmas presents of 2019.  DDAENG SIMS - Another giant that recently changed their name (used to be dreamteamsims).  FELIXANDRE - The best historical creator (as in making epic shit that would create the most wonderful castle). Sometimes a bit on the MM side with the furniture, and that contrast makes it, in my eyes, even better.  SIMCREDIBLE - Sets. Color matching. Often light and modern. I use their decor stones in every single one of my .  SOLORIYA - MM creator. But even for us alpha bitches there are wonderful stuff (I think this is the case for most MM artists, I just don’t know so many of them).  XELENN - Also does literally everything. One can scroll this blog for hours.  OWL-PLUMBOB - Amazing build objects.  SANOYSIMS - A long with MXIMS, I’d say this is one of the most “realistic” artists.  WINNER9 - To me, this creator is all about the amazing wall art. But of course they make other stunning objects too. Marble tables, anyone? SJAMBOKSIM - My most used concrete walls (and I use concrete A LOT).  AIFIRSA - Totally different style from everyone else. Absolutely love this aesthetic.  VIVIAN STUDIO - This sounds weird, but their onions are the best object in my game. Don’t judge.  HEURRS - A quite new creator who blew my mind with some recent candles and earned my first reblog since 456 BC. Love you.  I am forgetting so, so many. Please, I sometimes can’t even remember my own name, so don’t feel hurt if I missed you. PLEASE comment your favorite creators below! Where would you advice new simmers to start looking for good CC?  Love you guys!!!

#sims 4 #sims 4 cc #the sims #the sims 4 #creators #sims 4 creator #sims 4 creators #sims 4 cc finds #the sims 4 cc finds #sims cc #sims cc finds #sims4 #thesims4 #thesims

[imperiuswrecked]

                               ATLANTEAN PANTHEON

Long before Atlantis sank into the sea it was Golden City and an Empire that stretched across the world. This is the History of Atlantis, before and after, the Cataclysm which sank it beneath the waves.

Namor Week - Day 3 - Mythology

This is a worldbuilding fic and a it is canon and headcanon based. This lists out all the known details of the History of Marvel's Atlantis, and includes Neptune & Cleito, as well as their children who are all original characters of mine. I tired to use as much known lore as possible when writing this. 

Atlantean Pantheon

Neptune - God of the Sea, God of Waters, Lord of Horses, Father Ocean, Old Man of the Sea, Lord of all Things Below, King of the Deep

Neptune has blue skin and white hair with black eyes that cover his sclera and irises, he has gills on his neck and pointed ears. He wears a white toga and a golden circlet on his brow. He wields Neptune's trident. He is solidly built in form and his cape is a fish net. His white hair is a tangled mess and he has a long white beard.

He is as terrifying as the sea and just as unpredictable. He rules over all the oceans and sea life that inhabit it. He derives strength from prayers sent to him by the Atlantean people as well as humans who know of him, often in modern times Sea Faring people such as human fishermen and sailors also send him prayers.

Neptune is closely tied to the physical world, especially that of the sea. The oceans being hurt, harms him and over the centuries with constant pollution he has a shadow of his former strength. Which is why he does not often appear to help Atlanteans, often needing to conserve his strength lest he fades away into the awning black Ether of the Forgotten Realm where Chaos resides.

Cleito - Mother of All Things, Goddess of Fertility & Childbirth, Lady of Undying Things, Embodiment of Illusions, Maker of Dreams, Mistress of the Shroud, Keeper of the Nexus Fragment, Moon Mother, Queen of the Golden City

Cleito has golden skin and amber eyes, her hair is tree branches that grow pretty flower blossoms, all of different types. Depending on her mood the flowers are either in full bloom or decaying. She has pointed ears and her fingernails are like black claws, she has fangs.

She is wrapped in her black Shroud which is dotted with different colored gems, which are the souls of dead Atlanteans of the past waiting for her to pluck them from the shroud and send them into their next reincarnation cycle. The Shroud looks like the night sky and the gems are like Stars.

She is the Weaver of Dreams and Illusions and gives hope to her children. Often appearing in the visage of the Moon she watches over her descendants and those who pray to her. Her place of power is the Golden City which was once the capital of the Empire of Atlantis, however it now resides decaying beneath the waves in a forgotten place. Cleito often sleeps in her palace tomb to conserve her energy since she lost much power during the Cataclysm when she used her abilities to change her children’s people into permanent water breathers. It is guarded by her father Evenor who is a sea dragon spirit. She awakens very rarely before returning to her healing sleep.

Unlike Neptune, Cleito is not closely tied to reality of the world but rather to an embodiment of ideas and dreams, she works her magic and powers through the Nether Realms.

She is the Keeper of the Nexus Fragment; Long ago the Nexus connected all realities but it was fragmented due to a power struggle for control of it, its pieces fell into different realities. Some were absorbed by the souls of people and they became Nexus beings, able to use the power of the Nexus to alter realities or create pathways between worlds. Other fragments became glowing orbs of light which were collected by beings of power to protect them or lay in long forgotten places, waiting to be found. Only beings of divine power (or touched/blessed by a divine power) can contain a Nexus without injury and only they can pass a fragment onto others.

Evenor - Sea Dragon Spirit, With a face like a seahorse and a body of a long snake like dragon he most closely resembles dragon figures of the Eastern surface world. His scales are grey and white and he has a mustache like white hair from his nostrils as well as ridges down his back and long sharp white claws on his hands and feet. His eyes swirl like an ocean whirlpool, to look in them is to be lost. He travels between the spirit world and the real world.

He dedicates his time to protecting his daughter Cleito. He can turn corporal in his dragon form if he desires. He has untold strength and abilities as he is very mysterious and keeps his secrets close. Atlanteans pray to Evenor for protection against bad spirits.

History of Atlantis before the Cataclysm

Neptune was the sea, formed within its roiling waters he manifested physical form, with hair and beard as white as sea foam, skin as blue as the water, and eyes as dark as the black depths beneath the waves. He carries with him, his magical Trident which controls the waters. He has complete mastery over the oceans and all those who dwell within it. His favor is as fickle as the sea, his personality is as ever changing as the ocean. He grants favors to those he sees fit to receive them.

Cleito was born of her father and her human mother, spirit and reality came together in her form and she walked between both worlds as a child before choosing to dwell in the spirit world of her father, she learned all there was to know of places outside of reality. She is the pure embodiment of Illusions and is a being of great power. While Neptune may be more well known Cleito dwells in the worlds behind worlds and watches over her people, only stepping in in dire circumstances.

While Neptune ruled the Seas, she was Queen of the Golden City which was once the hub and center of the Empire of Atlantis.

Neptune and Cleito had children, five sets of twins, who became the Ten Kings and Queens of the Atlantean Empire. To celebrate their children the God & Goddess gave them land to care for, it’s people looked to them not only as their deities but also their rulers.

The Ten, as they would later be remembered, were; Vyncia & Kysine, Ozak & Otia, Sevgi & Rejuat, Teinbo & Zarusal, Mverix & Narxis. They would go on to have children of their own who were part water breathers, and part air breathers. With one human parent any descendant of Neptune and Cleito’s blood were blessed with abilities.  The Atlantean Empire and most especially the Golden City thrived with technology and innovation, peace and prosperity, and all the knowledge they could record for future generations. The most advanced of their time they were a powerful nation. Much of the knowledge is lost after the Great Cataclysm.

Vyncia & Kysine - Daughters, Twins, Goddesses of Fresh Waters

African Models should be pictured for these characters

Vyncia - Goddess of Surging Waters, Lady of Streams & Rivers

Kysine - Goddess of Tranquil Waters, Lady of the Lake

Ozak & Otia - Twins - Brother & Sister

East Asian models should be pictured for these characters

Ozak - God of Deep Waters, Drowning, Death

Otia - Goddess of Tide Pools, Tides, & Unexpected Fortune

Sevgi & Rejuat - Twins - Sister & Brother

Caucasian/Nordic/Irish/Scottish models should be pictured for these characters

Sevgi - Goddess of Dew & Mist, Marsh Maiden

Rejuat - God of Bogs & Marshes, Trickster

Teinbo & Zarusal - Twins - Brother & Sister

Middle Eastern/Indian models should be pictured for these models

Teinbo - God of Hot Springs & Healing, Wisdom

Zarusal - Goddess of Rain, Rainbows, & Rainstorms, Monsoon Bringer

Mverix & Narxis - Sons, Brothers - Twins, Gods of Salt Water

Pacific Islander/Native models should be pictured for these characters

Mverix - God of Sea Storms, Sea Foam & Sea Farers

Narxis - God of Sea Creatures, Sea Life & Plants

History of Atlantis during & after the Cataclysm

Set the Evil Serpent God, and his devoted followers, The Lemurians, waged war on the Atlantean Empire, Neptune & Cleito in order to gain control of the Nexus Fragment. Cleito lead many of the fights and was badly injured due to Set’s trickery however during an earth shattering battle with the Gods, Neptune was imprisoned in a wall of everlasting fire and forced to watch as Set attempted to rip the Nexus Fragment from Cleito’s heart, their Ten Children came from all over the Empire to fight Set and they sacrificed their lives to save their mother. Set enraged at their daring and attempts to defeat him, orders his people to slay the remaining descendants of the Ten. The Lemurians follow Set’s orders with Suma-Ket and Artys-Gran leading them. Killing all direct blood descendants and using their blood to fuel Set with more dark power.

Neptune and Cleito attempt to regain their strength however Neptune, upon learning his children are dead, snaps and gathers every reserve of water, every drop that he could command and begins to drown the world. Gaia the Earth Goddess, upset from all the turmoil awakens and causes huge earthquakes to break Atlantis’s Golden CIty away from the mainland separating it from the rest of the Empire. Neptune drowns much of the Earth and the entire nation of Lemuria, his fury is uncontainable and his tidal wave sweeps towards Atlantis.

Cleito seeing last of her children’s descendants in danger, (many of them demi-gods/goddesses due to them having one human parent) uses a huge quantity of her reserve magic to give them aid and protect them from the destruction; Cleito sinks the now isolated Island of Atlantis beneath the waves. Only those with the capabilities to breath beneath the water survived, they would go on to evolve and become better adapted to their new underwater home. Thus they are now only known as Atlanteans, the last people splinter over time and make their homes all over the oceans.

Set engaged Cleito and Neptune in battle for the last time. All the death of the descendants of Neptune fuels the blood magic that gives Set even more strength and he begins to overpower Neptune and Cleito. Seeing that Set was not satisfied with all the death and that he still wished to carve out Cleito’s heart and gain control of the Nexus Fragment, convinces Cleito to use the last remaining power within her and she banished Set and his highest ranking followers, Suma-Ket & Artys-Gran into the Ether. The underwater portal to their prison was sealed with a door that could only be opened by one who has the Royal Blood of Neptune. Cleito, exhausted beyond all measure, succumbs to a deep healing sleep, and her father Evenor takes her below the seas to her sunken temple, its whereabouts now lost to time, to be protected forever more. Neptune recedes beneath the waves to rejuvenate and neither are seen for centuries before they are awakened by their youngest descendant, Namor the First of Atlantis.

Those Lemurians who followed Set and were left behind used dark magic to transform themselves into water breathers in order to search for a way to bring their master back to them, they spend several thousands of years combing the ocean floor for the location of the Blood Gate, and Cleito, so they may gain the Nexus Fragment and find a means to bring Set back to Earth. Since the great Cataclysm the Atlanteans and Lemurians have been at war. While Lemuria languished in dreams of the past, Atlantis looked towards the future and the preservation of their people.

#namorweek #namorweek 2021 #neptune #cleito #imp writes a thing #long post #impedit #i finally finished the moodboard and thats what took so long #bc i couldnt find models/pics i liked #there is a (not surprising) lack of poc fantasy pics around the internet #and i really wanted my pantheon to be very diverse

[katie-writes24]

Cursed Blessings - Chpt.2

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, angst, suggestive material, misunderstandings and bad researched background of job titles.

Chpt. 1 ~ Chpt.3

Wow, I don't like how I wrote this part at all. But bare with me, I swear we’re getting somewhere...eventually. The plot line is there, it’s just...coming together slowly. I hope yall will continue to read this series, if you could call it that? So yeah, I apologize for the rusty chapter. Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy!

Three years later

Flying made him nervous. It was just a big box floating in the air, and it was unsettling to think there was nothing but clouds around him. 

The stewardess was shooting him concerning looks as Thomas kept ordering alcohol. He doesn’t blame her, but it wasn’t like he was going to become a loose drunk, especially not when he’s so anxious to get on the ground. 

New York was not his favorite place to be, especially not in the winter. Bustling traffic, tourists looking for a white Christmas, and Thomas was just trying to keep this branch under control. Washington said that they were still new, that the office needed someone who was ‘experienced.’ 

As if the years of keeping his office door shut, retorting quickly, and even making an employee cry was considered “experienced.”

Maybe he’s been a little more preoccupied with work than usual, but it’s been busy. There was a lot to do, always time to work. Call him a workaholic, but you could never call him lazy. Thomas was productive when it came to his job, never one to let anyone else step over how much dedication he put into his work. 

But this is where he’d stay for now at least. His temporary penthouse was near a bar and a coffee shop, which he figured he would be spending a lot of time at both. As soon as he landed, he got a cab and moved his stuff in. Two hours later after a visit to the store, he was on the couch in his pajamas, eating and watching terrible tv dramas. 

And that was pretty much the next two days. New York was just like any other city he’s visited, it was nothing special. He was perfectly fine with lounging around until he needed to go in for work. 

That was until he ran out of his basic necessities, and was forced to throw on pants to go outside. There wasn’t a supermarket far from his place, and given it was late on a Sunday night, it was pretty quiet. 

Thomas roamed the aisles slowly, and thought about how exhausting the next couple of months were going to be. He wasn’t one to volunteer to practically train an entire office floor, neither was he sure that he could do it patiently. Hence he had an enclosed office back in Virginia where he could keep to himself. If the workers back home could barely do their job, surely these people couldn’t either.

Lost in his thoughts, he turned the corner and almost knocked over a small child. His hand automatically reached out to stop her from falling. But she just looked up at him with wide eyes and smiled as if he didn’t almost run her over. Thomas was about to walk around, but she held her hand up, showing off a small rocket.

Thomas slowly took the toy from her, gesturing towards it and shrugging. “Very nice.”

She grinned at his approval, and Thomas didn’t even know if she could understand him. 

There was a loud shout behind him, and before he could turn around-

“Sorry, she just got out of my sight for a second.”

Well, Thomas could recognize that voice anywhere.

Y/N still looked the same, but her hair was a bit shorter now. Those sharp eyes always made him catch his breath. But how she looked at him now, Thomas didn’t know what to think.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They just stared at each other for what felt like hours. He didn’t mind it, because he didn’t know what he was going to say if he pulled his eyes away. However, there was some babbling and then something hit his leg. Thomas completely forgot about the toddler at his feet.

“Sorry,” Y/N walked around him and picked her up. And he could see it now.

The matching eyes, except hers were much brighter. They have the same mole just below their jaw, and their noses have the same little curve. 

And how could he miss those curls?

His heart caught in his throat.

“She’s pretty fast...I can’t keep up with her sometimes,” Y/N sighs as she avoids his eyes.

“It’s fine…” Thomas can’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring?”

He blinked and looked between the two. Clearing his throat, he couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “You have a daughter.”

Perhaps he said it too excitedly, but Y/N looked almost sad. Like she didn’t have a gift, that they didn’t have a gift. Something Thomas only dreamed about when they were together.

“I do...” Y/N brushed her daughter’s hair back. It looked so domestic, so loving, Thomas almost reached out and did the same. 

“What...uh, what’s her nam-”

“Thomas, why are you in New York?” 

Right, Thomas wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be going to this branch, he wasn’t supposed to fly in on a Friday and he wasn’t supposed to be at the store right now. He shouldn’t be so giddy about this discovery.

“For work. I, uh, I have to visit a new branch in the city tomorrow.” 

She nodded slowly, almost as if she was trying to sense if he was telling the truth. 

“What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” 

That was understandable; it’s a big city, he knew that she had some friends from college living in the city. Thomas also knew why she would want to get out of Virginia, out of the town. 

“Cora.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Her name...it’s Cora,” Y/N didn’t look at him, instead looking at her daughter like she was the entire world. She now had her head tucked into Y/N’s neck and staring at him with tired eyes.

As Thomas repeated her name, the air seemed to thicken with tension. He had so many questions, he just wanted to know what Y/N was up to now, how this happened, when it happened? But he couldn’t ask in the middle of an aisle at the store. 

“Do you think we could sit down somewhere? Maybe grab a coffee or something?”

“I, uh...I don’t think that’s a good idea, Thomas.” Her grip tightened on her shopping basket as her eyes grew wide.

“Wait, Y/N, please-”

“I gotta go.” And just like that, Thomas lost her again. The only thing remaining was the toy rocket in his hand.

~~~

“You’re back! You won’t believe the shit I just heard.”

Y/N put Cora down and watched her waddle towards the kitchen. She had been crying the whole car ride home; after an entire car search, Y/N couldn’t find her toy and she wasn’t going to go back to the store to see if she left it.

Y/N couldn’t let herself do that.

“Yeah, well you won’t believe what just happened either.”

Closing the door, she followed her daughter inside and set the bags down. She walked in to see her sitting on the counter, a popsicle already in her hand.

“Dude, seriously?” Y/N put a hand to her hip. “I was just about to start dinner.”

“Relax, she’s fine.” A hand swept through her hair as Y/N tried to stop the sticky mess running down Cora’s arm. “As I was saying, do you believe some stuck up southerner is going to sit in as management tomorrow? You believe that? As if he can waltz right in and make some changes. Who does he think he is?”

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” The amount of stories that Y/N had heard the last months of idiotic lawyers and disobedient clients were a bit overreacted. 

“Believe me, I would never over exaggerate anything when it comes to my job.”

It made Y/N pause, for a second she even thought Cora could understand how ridiculous it sounded.

“Anyways, there is no way that I’m going to sit back and let him take over,” She was sure that her of course you won’t comment was ignored. “But I don’t know how it will affect my schedule.”

“Don’t stress, I’ll find someone to watch Cora when I’m out.” 

“You know I would but-”

“It’s fine, Alexander.”

The man straightened at her tone, but nodded nevertheless. He moved around the counter to the fridge. “So, what was it you were going to say?”

Right.

“You won’t believe who I just saw…”

Alexander turned, wide eyed and careful to note her far off look. It could have been a list of people; there had been lots of promising moments ever since Y/N came to New York, lots of friends made, lots of sites seen. However, there were also a lot of complications, lots of threatening emails sent, lots of pressure she was under. 

And as her whole mood seemed to stutter into a daze, Alexander could connect the dots easily. 

After all, it was the same look she had months into her pregnancy. Months after she left. Months after she stopped getting phone calls. Months after she stopped caring about him.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

Jefferson Taglist:  @notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @astralaffairs @daveeddiggsit @ramp-it-up @ohsoverykeri-blog @i-know-i-can @tinywhim

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas Jefferson x oc #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson #hamilton fic #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #thomas jefferson fanfic #cursed blessings #my writings #was it meant to be a plottwist at the end? yes #did it happen? i doubt it

[nbrook29]

💞 my sobbe fic recs part 2 💞

I did the first part in October but since then we have been blessed with so many good fics that I needed to do another one! We are currently experiencing a sobbe drought so these fics are helping us to get through it basically ✌🏻

Part One

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

Let’s go!

1k - 5k

let me be your man (let me hold your hand) by thekardemomme (@wlwharrys) | T

Summary: “what if i hold your hands?” robbe asks, voice gentle and soft, all teasing completely gone. sander turns to look at him, and robbe just gives him an encouraging smile. “will that make you feel more comfortable?”at first, sander wants to say no. he’s an adult, he should totally be able to drop in without needing to hold his boyfriend’s hands. but then he looks down the length of the ramp again, and he ends up nodding.

Sander learning how to skateboard. Basically, A FIC WE ALL NEEDED and this writer provided amazingly.

you just own it by noobishere | G

Summary: He bites his lip as he unhooks the jacket, feeling like he's five years old again, snooping around his mother's closet and trying on her heels.(a.k.a the one where robbe wears sander's clothes)

You know, with this writer it’s like, you see who wrote it and you just know it’s gonna be good. And it may be the most trivial idea but they always turn it into something fun. Oh and the pencil line is living in my mind rent free 🤣

paper rings by thekardemomme (@wlwharrys) | T

Summary: When Sander’s nose twitches, causing him to make this soft little whimpering sound, Robbe can’t help himself. He leans forward enough to kiss Sander’s forehead again, and then he dots one on each cheek, and then finally on his nose.“I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers.

Angsty flugg with such a cute ending, where are my tissues at 🥺🤧

It’s My Turn by isaksliveterna (@to-enter-polaris) | T

Summary: Just little Sander moments through Robbe's eyes as he makes the anniversary video.

Remember Even’s video to Isak? This is sobbe’s version and it’s oh so cute 🥰

5k - 10k

All You’ve Got to Do Is Win by berrevy | T

Summary: “Careful, now.”“Or what?” Robbe walks off, over to his side of the net, voice raising as he goes. “You may as well just draw a picture of you winning cos that’s the only way it’s gonna happen.”It's Sander's turn to splutter. "Jesus...who are you and what have you done with Robbe? Where did this little savage come from?"(or, how that tennis match might've played out)

Oh my god, for me this is perfection ❤ This author can truly capture the real essence of sobbe. And to think I completely missed that fic the last time!

dreaming of you by ivy_seas | E

Summary: Snow, gift giving, wrapping presents, watching movies in bed (+ other activities in bed), celebrating Christmas together.

Sobbe preparing for Christmas together, just the perfect amount of fluff I needed 🤗

you’re my stars... and everything in between by aurorawinds (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: A Star-Crossed Lovers, Romeo & Juliet inspired, AU where Robbe and Sander are the sons of Antwerp’s two most rivaling families of tech companies, head over heels in love with one another as they find it more and more difficult each day to hide their relationship from their families. To hide their love.

Are you kidding me. Romeo and Juliet sobbe AU?! I was so into it from the very beginning, THEY ARE SO CUTE OH MY GOD and the angst oh yes

Taking pictures of you as the light came through by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: Robbe photographs Sander in bed. Things take a steamy turn.

It’s not easy to write the perfect amount of fluff as I tend to not like the overly fluffy stories. Somehow this writer always hits the mark and delivers just what I love.

You say you want your freedom by ayellowcurtain (@ayellowcurtain) | G

Summary: Sander is going away for two weeks to do some college stuff with his teacher. He doesn't tell Robbe right away, but he needs time.

This was really interesting and quite different from the usual approach I would say. I think there are very few fics with sobbe “fighting” and I love me a little angst sometimes so this was just *chef’s kiss* 😍 Also, I liked how *spoiler* the ending isn’t just Sander’s bff suddenly liking Robbe but that they rather work around it.

time may change me but I can’t trace time by abittersweetsong (@honeyandsinn) | T

Summary: “You’re my best friend and I love you.”It’s a simple admission and it settles gently in Robbe’s soul Or Robbe and Sander find each other in every universe, but in this one they're best friends first

This is WIP and as a rule I don’t include WIPs in those recs but I’m gonna make an exception because I absolutely loved it and I need this writer to come back and post more 🥺 I’m in love with their writing style and how they make me care about these characters so much ❤

10k - 20k

sander driesen versus mistletoe by dottori | T

Summary: it’s not a fair match. (or, sobbe go on a christmas date, and sander really wants a kiss under the mistletoe.)

This is a very fluffy fluff so proceed with caution 😂 I liked the Christmas vibe here a lot.

hop in the corolla by noobishere | E

Summary: “Oh dear,” Robbe’s mother cuts in. “You haven’t even started your trip and you’re already at each other’s throats.”Sander takes immense pleasure in the way Robbe’s eyes widen in panic, and before Robbe can even warn him with his glares, Sander is already saying, all too gleefully.“We’re always at each other’s throats.”(a.k.a sobbe's summer road trip)

“I found it. It's official. I found the best sobbe fic.” This is the comment I left and I’m still standing by it. It has so many small gems, it’s just UGH. So goooooood 🤩🤩🤩

my hand around the base of you holy neck by allforyoumylove | E

Summary: “All Robbe knew was that Sander was rubbing his hand up and down his back, nails scraping his skin gently, that he smelled like safety, sweet and warm, and that there was nowhere he would rather be than in his arms.”(aka the one where Robbe and Sander are “just” friends with benefits, but the amount of times they call each other ‘baby’ and the way they can’t fucking stop kissing begs to differ.)

Friends to lovers AU. One of my favorite tropes. It’s smutty and fluffy at the same time which, you know, perfection.

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by berrevy | M

Summary: Robbe bites down on his lip, shaking his head. “You make a habit of luring boys into your lair?”“Only the pretty ones. Don’t worry, schatje, there’s nothing to be afraid of. And if there is,” Sander shrugs, taking a few more steps backwards, “I’ll protect you.”(aka the boys go on their own private Halloween adventure)

So basically, it was Halloween and wtFOCK so DID NOT deliver and we were all pissed off but then this writer came in and gave us what we deserved. Thanks to this fic I discovered this writer’s other story that is one of my sobbe favorites. Oh the symbolism in this fic. I’m just a big fan of this writer’s style in general 🥰

20k+

this rough magic by aholynight (@aholynight) | M

Summary: Though he’s a sixth-prefect and the newest member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Muggleborn Robbe can still hardly believe that he’s made of magic. Sander is the seventh-year Gryffindor beater whose wild behavior and delinquent reputation precedes him. Though Robbe desperately wants to believe in the angel-faced boy he sees in front of him—and ignore the rumors of Sander’s devilish behavior—he’s not sure his heart can afford the risk. But when Sander and Robbe are left in a nearly-empty Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, avoiding Sander might no longer be an option.

I don’t know how I could have missed this one in my last fic rec. Sobbe in Hogwarts. During Christmas. I mean, I’m sold from the start but on top of that this also has a captivating story and made me go 🥺

#wtfock

[ninjacat1515]

Discovery

( @vee-vee-the-starchild  owns Valkory and Aname )

Cries broke through the stillness of the evening, carrying to Valkory’s keen ears. It reminded her of a baby Villager, and prompted the Hero to immediately begin searching for the child. Someone from another town must have lost them; as every little one in her Village was accounted for. She drew closer to the forest, and focused on bushes near the base of a giant Taiga. 

Valkory’s jaw almost fell clean off when she saw the gray skin and red eyes. A baby Illager! One from the vampiric tribes to boot! The child was huddled against the tree, shaking and scared. She looked to have been walking a long time, and her clothes were dirty. Valkory’s heart went out to her, and she knelt down, pulling back the wolf pelt to show all of her face.

The child had ceased her crying, and was now staring wide eyed. She got up and walked forward, curious but cautious. Valkory held out her hand, a cookie resting on her palm. The treat was snatched up and devoured, and the hero could see small, razor sharp teeth. A full mouth of them too. Keeping her fingers at a safe distance, Valkory picked the child up.

She had to care for her, leaving her to the woods was not an option; Illager or not. The hero walked right back into the Village; heading for her base. People turned and gasped, a few even making the sign against evil. The cleric shook his head and approached, furiously writing in a notebook before handing the message to Valkory.

“That thing is dangerous! Why did you bring it here?? Why didn’t you put it down?!”

The cleric took a step back when he saw Valkory’s angry glare upon reading it. Charcoal stick almost tearing through the paper, the hero scribbled a reply and shoved it back in his face.

“If you have a problem with me helping this TODDLER, then I will happily take my leave and go elsewhere!”

He was silent, regretting his harsh words as Valkory stormed past and went inside her base, closing the door behind and locking it. The child was placed on a guest bed, and the curtains were closed to protect her from the sun which was due to rise any moment. She sat, swinging her little legs and looking about with a smile.

Valkory gave her some raw steak pieces, and went over her inventory. One thing was certain, she would have to return the child; lest her parents think the Village was responsible for her disappearance. There were markings on her arms and face, but they were not scars. Intricate strokes of magical paint, one that would not rub off, displayed which of the tribes she called home. Rummaging through her notes, Valkory came to a page where she had begun listing the markings and banners of various Illager tribes.

“The desert...” she thought when she matched up what the child. It was a long way off, but she would follow through with her plan nonetheless. 

The child yawned, and laid down on the bed. Valkory blinked but remembered that the vampiric Illagers slept during daylight hours. Well, she would finish up some tasks and then catch a few hours of sleep before the journey. The hero watched the little one snooze. What to call her? She mused as she had some soup.

“Aname...I know your parents probably have another, but for now, that’s what I’ll call you.” Valkory thought.

When night fell, she outfitted her inventory with supplies and extra cloaks before exiting. Villagers kept their distance, but there were no hateful words or angry faces. They were nervous, having never encountered a baby Illager before. But they would respect Valkory and not interfere.

She carried the tot in a sling, moving quickly and carrying a torch for light. The woods were quiet, and she didn’t spot any monsters. An owl hooted and some far off branches crashed, causing Valkory to get a surge of nervousness. Just normal sounds from a forest, it was a living place after all. Trees, animals-

The torchlight had caught on something up ahead, and she froze mid step. It was reflecting off a pair of eyes, and the eyes were a good 6ft or so off the ground. Valkory kept down panic. There were many more pairs of eyes dotting the darkness as she glanced about. 

Aname was not afraid, and began to perk up with joy.

“Mamma!”

The word made Valkory’s insides feel like a mass of writhing snakes and stinging insects. Here she was, a Hero holding the child of Illagers; the parent of which being mere yards away. Sweat beaded on her forehead under her wolf pelt, and she gently let the child down, fighting off a wave of dizziness. Aname ran to her mother, and in the dim light, Valkory could see her embracing her daughter and kissing her cheeks.

Hands now in the air, Valkory took steps back. None of the Illagers made a move against her; though there was murmuring amongst the crowd. The glinting eyes of Aname’s mother, met Valkory’s. The gratitude was evident and the woman nodded before ordering the troops to stand down. Ravagers grunted and a few witches could be heard sighing in annoyance. A Raid party moved back into the trees and away from the hero.

Valkory glanced over her shoulder and could still see the glow of the Village. A full on Raid had just missed it by only a few minutes. Heart pounding, she marched back, counting her blessings. The Villagers peeking out of their homes were confused, but she waved them off. She needed some Ale and a long rest. Crashing to bed, Valkory was out cold.

A few weeks later, a knock came to her door in the middle of the night. Opening it, she was greeted by a wooden box containing a child’s drawing, doll, and a message:

“She wanted you to have these.”

The drawing depicted Valkory and Aname, holding hands and smiling. The doll was crude but adorable. A wolf with buttons for eyes. Valkory sat at her table looking at them both, heart lighter and hoping she would see the child again one day.

#minecraft dungeons au #drabble

[vivilove-jonsa]

first lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Thank you @esther-dot and @sailorshadzter for the tag :)

All are on ao3.

Moonlight & Madness- Sansa selects a 45 from the stack and smiles hearing the piano as the turntable starts to spin.

oh lay my sweet lass down in the grass- Sansa has always had a romantic heart.

Rickon's Refuge-Sansa may be queen now but she says she was his big sister first.

Moonstruck-Hardhome and nothing much to do.

The Pilot & the Flight Attendant- At ten minutes until three, Sansa Stark decided it was close enough to time to be early but not too early.

Captain Crow & the Runaway Bride- The roar of cannon above and the muffled thumps from the balls coming aboard filled the darkened space.

hit me like a ray of sun- “They’re looking for us. We’re one of the largest groups of survivors left in this area. They want to find us. They want to know if we’re immune.”

Uncle Rickon- When Rickon was a little boy, which seems so long ago, these halls were rarely silent.

Cat & Mouse- Of all the times Sansa had prayed to see her family again, Jon was honestly the last one she’d expected to see even believing the others lost forever.

on a misty morn- Ghost trails behind them as Sansa's voice echoes like some spirit through the morning mist.

The Kissing Booth- Jeyne slides a familiar piece of paper Sansa's way as they wait for the bus.

Rickon's Luck- “Aye, lad! Red hair like me! Like your sister! Kissed by fire! Us gingers are lucky!”

don't kiss me goodbye, kiss me goodnight- The banquet hall is full of the usual suspects; politicians, lobbyists and daydreamer idealists, donors with deep pockets, journalists, ‘yes’ men.

Love's Labor Lasting- In the sixth year of her reign, Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North, is embroidering with her ladies one day and minding her own business when a curious thing occurs.

Do you think about me? (I think about you)- As a younger girl, Sansa Stark couldn’t say she’d thought all that often of her cousin Jon from Dorne.

Mine for a Season- Colonel Jon Targaryen is a single man in possession of a good fortune who claims no interest in finding himself a wife.

Young at Heart- “I don’t know about this, Mom. We’ve not spent much time together since I was a kid. What do I even say to her?” Jon asked as he had the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, searching for a clean shirt.

bare-knuckled- It was an autumn day, crisp and full of color, when Sansa Stark first became aware of Jon Snow.

a song incomplete- Soulmates had become incredibly rare the past few centuries and were considered a curse as much as a blessing by many.

I think that's 20. Apparently, I tend to use character names (especially Jon or Sansa's) a lot in my first lines.

I'll tag @chocolateghost @amymel86 @periwinkle39 @chispas-and-broken-bindings @sanzuh @jade-masquerade @cellsshapedlikestars @kit-kat21 and @kissed-by-circe :)

#tag you're it #my fic

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 14

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 14: They can’t avoid the inevitable. War has come and the Shelby boys must meet their fate.

             They had the blessing of being able to spend Christmas together. They enjoyed their time together as a family, celebrating John and Martha’s newest arrival, Wilbur. While news from the war front was constant, Amelia felt reassured that Tommy and the others wouldn’t be shipped off. With the cold of winter settling in, she felt content to deny what was going on in the rest of the world. She hunkered down like a little mouse, tending to the house and keeping everything warm and keeping everyone happy.

~~~~~~~~~

            But it was not to last. After Valentine’s Day, a letter arrived.

            Amelia heard it fall through the mail slot and she went to retrieve it. When she saw the British army emblem on it, she panicked. It felt like her heart jumped to her throat.

            “Mel?” Tommy was walking downstairs and she saw an envelope in her hand. “Something wrong?”

            “No!” She clasped her hand tightly around the letter and tucked it into her skirt pocket.

            Knowing she was a terrible liar, and seeing the fear on her face, he pressed. “Mel, what is it?”

            “It’s nothing.”

            “Amelia.” He held a hand out. “Let me see.”

            She lifted her chin to try and appear truthful. “It’s not for you.”

            “Really? Who’s it for then?”

            “Me.”

            “Who’s it from?”

            “My-” She swallowed. It was so difficult trying to lie to him. Not only was she a shit liar but it tore her up inside with guilt.

            “C’mon, just let me see it.” He reached for her pocket but she backed away.

            “No!” She snapped and tucked her hand into her pocket and clutched the letter to make sure he couldn’t get to it.

            There was only one thing that got Amelia so upset. It was the war. The prospect of losing Tommy was too much for her to bear. She couldn’t hear or read about the news. She didn’t want to talk about it. She would leave a conversation if it was ever brought up. She was in complete denial. So, Tommy had a hunch about what the letter was about.

            “Amelia, give it to me.” He backed her up into the wall and reached again. She pulled her hand away, trying in vain to keep the envelope out of reach. But he grabbed her wrist and yanked it from her hand.

            Although wrinkled from the tussle, he saw the same emblem that had made her panic. Tommy stared at it for a minute. He knew what it was. He didn’t even have to open it to know. But he peeled open the envelope and took out the letter.

            Amelia watched with tears in her eyes. “Tommy…”

            He swallowed and looked up. “Mel, I told you this might happen.”

            It felt like she was kicked in the stomach. “No…no please.”

            “What do you want me to do?” He snapped. “What am I supposed to do?” He shook the letter in his hand. “Because me hands are tied! You’re only making this harder for everyone!”

            Amelia shrunk into herself, covering her eyes with her hands.

            They stood in the foyer, the only sounds from the clock on the wall and the soft sobbing from behind her hands.

            “Mel…” Tommy tossed the letter aside and stepped closer to her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to tell you anymore.”

            “Pl-please don’t go.” She begged as he enveloped her in his arms. “Please, Tommy.”

            He hushed her softly and kissed her hair. There were no promises he could make to her anymore.

~~~~~~~~

             So, it would be. The Shelby boys were to be shipped to Le Havre in a month’s time. In the meantime, they had to get their affairs in order. Tommy and Arthur had many meetings with Polly about the future of the betting shop. Amelia wasn’t privy to the information. Tommy didn’t want to stress her out even more.

            But at least Tommy knew he wasn’t leaving his wife alone. She had his whole family to comfort her plus the friends she’d made in Birmingham. Some rekindled from their youth, some newfound. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would ever be the same.

             “Max?”

            “Yeah?” The little boy came into the kitchen of Six Watery Lane. Amelia was upstairs with Martha helping her tend after baby Wilbur and Abigail. Meanwhile, Max was meant to play quietly in the parlor with his toy train.          

            “C’mere.” Tommy patted his knee. His son smiled and scrambled up onto his lap. “C’mere my boy.” He helped him up.

            “Hi, daddy,” Max said sweetly. He was mildly surprised to see Tommy in the middle of the day. Usually, his father was hard at work and wouldn’t come home until bedtime.

            Tommy brushed his hair back. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

            “Okay.”

            “Two weeks from now, I’ll have to go away for a little bit. I’ll be going with your Uncle Arthur and Uncle John.”

            Max looked confused. “Why, daddy?”

            “We’re going so we can keep you and your mum and everyone else safe.” He said gently and held his son close. “Can I show you where we’ll be?”

            “Okay!”

            Tommy stood up, carrying the four-year-old into the empty betting shop. In the meantime, operations had been halted. Most of the men who worked there had either already been drafted or were about to be. Things with Polly hadn’t quite been sorted yet so it was better to just close up shop for a bit.

            Tommy sat down where he’d left the book of maps, he’d gotten from the library just for his talk with Max. “Alright, let’s see.” He flipped through to find a map of Europe. “Right, see that little island there? That’s where we are, that little dot, Birmingham. That’s where you and mum will be. And I’ll be right over here.” He pointed to France. “That country very close by. So, we won’t be far apart.”

            Max leaned forward on the desk to trace the path from Britain to France, bumping into his father’s finger.

            “Just a little bit of water that’ll be between us.”

            “Can you swim home?” Max asked. The little centimeter of water on the map seemed insignificant to him.

            Tommy chuckled. “I don’t think so. But when I come home, I’ll take a ship across the water, then a train to Birmingham. And you and mum will be waiting at the train station, won’t you? You like seeing the trains, aye?”

            “Yeah!”

            “Well, that’s good because I’ll come home on a train. I’ll come home to you and mum. I promise.”

            The days went by too fast. Amelia knew she would never be prepared for the day Tommy left. But she tried her best.

            The night before, she held onto Tommy fast as they made love. Their last moment of intimacy for the time being. Halfway through, he looked at her and realized a tear was slipping down her cheek.

            “Alright?”

            “I’m just trying to make everything last.” She whispered.

            He wiped the tear from her cheek. “It’s just a small time apart.” He assured her. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

            Tommy held Amelia’s hand as they walked to the train station that fateful day. Max was riding on Tommy’s shoulders, oblivious to what was really going on. It didn’t help that John and Arthur were sure they were basically headed for a nice little holiday. They joked that the war would be ended the second they stepped foot in France. Whether it was just being mindless or an attempt to stay sane, no one knew for sure.

            Besides, they weren’t the only ones who thought the war would be a quick ordeal. Nothing too difficult, nothing too long. Who could beat the British army?

            Tommy was a bit more realistic and somber. He couldn’t be sure of the timeframe they faced. But any number of days away from his wife and son was too many.

                   They said their goodbyes at the train station, among a sea of families all in the same situation. Martha had a hard time even speaking, she was so overcome with grief. There was only so much John could say to comfort her. Meanwhile, Abigail and Wilbur were much too young to understand.

            Polly hugged each of her nephews close and told them to watch after each other.

            Amelia kissed Tommy, forcing herself to let go of him when the time came. “Right, Max, say goodbye to daddy, give him a cuddle.”

            It seemed to dawn on Max that his father really was leaving. “Daddy.”

            Tommy picked up the four-year-old. “Yes?”

            “You hafta stay.” Anxiety was starting to creep into the little boy’s voice.

            “I want to, Max, I do. But I can’t.” He said gently. “You have to stay here with mum. You watch after her and your cousins, right? Auntie Martha and Auntie Pol? You’ll watch after them too?”

            Max hiccuped and began to cry. “No, daddy, stay here!”

            “I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll come back home to you and mum. But I have to leave for now.” Tommy met Amelia’s eyes but neither knew what to say to comfort Max.

            A loud piercing whistle came from the train. Amelia’s stomach was in knots as she pried her son away from Tommy. Max screamed when his last finger slipped away from Tommy’s uniform.

            Amelia wanted to scream too as she watched Tommy, John, and Arthur disappear into the crowd of soldiers. She wanted to scream for him to come back. But instead, she held Max close, her tears falling into his hair.

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[yurimother]

Top Yuri Anime Poll Results

Whether it is subtext or explicit, cute or sexy, school love or gay action thrillers I love yuri anime. These series either focus on or contain elements of female same-sex relationships. Pride month is the perfect time to look back and reflect on the best of this genre. I teamed up with OG Man of The Yuri Nation (yurination[dot] wordpress[dot] com/) and together we put out a poll asking what you thought the top yuri anime series were and over 1000 of you responded submitting almost 5000 different entries. We spent hours combing through the data, analyzing and commenting on the results and we would like to share our thoughts with all of you. Enjoy the reflections of me the yuri critic and OG the dedicated yuri fan!

These are the Top 20 Yuri Anime as voted by you

1. Bloom Into You - 692 Votes

OG: Be it East or West the YagaKimi took the world by storm. Citrus and BiY once again taking the top two spots remains unsurprising.There is something undeniably fascinating about our leading ladies consisting of an asexual slowly coming to love her senpai back but restraining herself for various reasons. The biggest one being said senpai having a deep case of self-loathing and a fear of romantic reciprocation, also for various reasons. She is like “I love you but please do not love me back”. Then there is one of the most popular “cursed” lesbians of all time in Sayaka, the fantastic adult side-couple (The world needs an anime starring lesbian adults/mothers) and the various other characters who have their own interesting tales to tell. The series absolutely deserves a spot in the Top 10 though it would not be in my personal Top 3. Oh and as Yurimother said the presentation was fantastic.Visually stunning from start to finish in my opinion. Special mention goes to the criminally underused first-person “camera”. So cool.

YuriMother: I agree with this series deserving a spot in the top ten even if not the number one slot. For me, it was good but not great. Moments such as the aforementioned adult couple as well as stellar art and a phenomenal score made this series enjoyable but they were not enough to overshine the problems of the narrative. For the love of the Yuri Goddess, this series is crying out for asexual representation but insists on carrying on with its confused romance. Enough complaining though, many people love Bloom Into You despite its faults and I agree. The characters are interesting and lovable and it manages to tell a yuri story more real and complex than the typical fluffy girl meets girl narratives.

2. Citrus - 452 Votes

YuriMother: The presence of Citrus and Bloom Into You prove two things to me, the importance of recency, as both anime aired only last year, and the sheer popularity of these series. Both had established and extremely successful manga runs which were adapted into English by the publishing masters of yuri, Seven Seas. Citrus is a contentious series, to say the least, as it includes elements of (non-blood related) incest and non-consensual actions as part of Mei and Yuzu’s “relationship.” However, if you possess the magical power to turn off the part of your brain screaming at you that those aspects are deeply problematic or if you seek a different interpretation then Citrus can be downright WONDERFUL. I actually loved this anime series for its characters, amazing animation, and salaciousness. As OG said, it is an operatic concussion of emotion (seriously everyone in the series needs therapy) but my is it fun to watch. The Citrus anime also holds a special place in my heart, as the first serious piece I ever wrote was a review for it over on Okazu (nice plug)! Citrus is certainly not for everyone but those that stuck with it and overlooked some of the problems ended up loving it.

OG: Here we are again with Citrus at #2. My thoughts on the series remains the same as in the previous two lists I discussed (the Akiba Research and goo Ranking Japan lists), overrated. Good soap opera/telenovela-esque series but my feelings on the cast are mixed (which I imagine was the writer’s intent). My main issue has always been the obstacles repeatedly challenging Yuzu and Mei’s feelings for each other instead of it focusing on “Hey. We like each other but our parents got married. What do we do? Can we keep our desires for each other in check?”. Instead it is one newcomer after another who want to eat either Yuzu or Mei and Yuzu repeatedly asking herself if she really wants robo-stepsister patties? I will give the anime adaptation credit. The story was easier to enjoy animated than drawn. It also helped that I grew up in a telenovela loving family. The characters’ actions, reactions and emotions were depicted better in the anime. I still consider the show’s greatest accomplishment being the humanization of Mei-Tron. In the manga it took a post-epilogue continuation to show readers “Hey everyone. Mei-Tron was human all along.” whereas in the anime I sensed the small bit of humanity quicker than in the manga where I continued seeing her as a block of wood with a brain up to the point where I dropped it. Harumin though is the greatest regardless of anime or manga adaptation. Bless her. Regardless of how I feel about the series I get its massive popularity. After all, were the rest of the story to get an animated continuation I would gladly pick it up...Not the manga though.

3. Sakura Trick - 342 Votes

OG: There are fans who understandably would disagree with Sakura Trick’s praise but I will always defend it and the anime as one of the very best in the genre. First off it aired at a time where animated on-screen close up kisses (specifically consensual ones) between ladies were rare. Haruka X Yuu’s relationship was believable for the most part. Even their season finale resolution, them not getting what being “in love” meant at the time, made sense though I get why it left some scratching their heads. Probably not the best “manga lure/bait” end I suppose. On the bright side Kotone X Shizuku’s story definitely did not have the two doubting their true feelings for each other. I do hope Kaede X Yuzu eventually hooked up in the manga as they too had potential to be a lovely couple.

YuriMother: Sakura Trick has no real narrative, no great insight, and offers little intellectually. As a teacher, it makes me furious, as a fan of yuri, elated. The anime is beloved for its plentiful soft service, presenting a plethora of kisses, cuddles, and awkward thigh shots (ew). However, it was one of the first anime to include this much explicit yuri service without being pornographic. All the characters were cute and fun, even if there was little in the way of development or complexity, it worked for the series. If you want something to make you think or to learn about yuri, pass over this one. But, if you want a cute and meaningless anime definitely watch it.

4. Yuru Yuri - 337 Votes

YuriMother: OG may not be a fan of Yuru Yuri but I certainly am, which is fairly obvious to anyone who observes that a solid 20% of my communications occur in the form of gifs from this series. It is hilarious, cute, and playful. Just like Sakura Trick, this anime is an easy watch with ultimately little substance. However, the part of me that is not rolling of the floor laughing every time I watch Yuru Yuri lives in a state of pained existence with the knowledge that this work of all things ended up being so popular when people are telling interesting stories about queer women and people in actual relationship that manage to still be funny and adorable while having something to say.

OG: The undisputed most mainstream friendly yuri series there is. It is also one of the funniest. My one gripe is that excluding a select few the main draw of the show besides the comedy and yuri is the ship wars, meaning (almost any girl can be shipped with each other). Not a fan of that but hey, it brought Namori the big bucks so who am I to judge? In any case not much else to add. It deserves all the adulation it gets but the free for all shipping irks me. Reminds me of how they botched Chika X Riko in the Love Live! Sunshine!! Anime. If you were going down the Riko X Yohane route from the start then why give us Chika X Riko in the first half? Ship wars yo. Tch. Hopefully I properly explained myself..

5. Kase-san and Morning Glories (Asagao to Kase-san) - 289 Votes

OG: Still wish this got a 12-13 episode anime. The glorious movie showed how much it deserves one. Whether it will happen or not remains to be seen. In any case the beauty of Kase-san X Yamada is how simple their romance is. No strings attached whatsoever. It is as straightforward as a self-proclaimed “ordinary” cutie, Yamada, having a crush on the super cool school beauty Kase-san. Said beauty is revealed to be just as “adorkable” as Yamada. The other highlight is their story not ending once they officially started dating (as is the case with many romance stories) but that being only the beginning, like real life. From then on, side-stories aside, the two biggest challenges for the two is Yamada accepting that it is okay for someone as “ordinary” as her to be the “cool babe”s girlfriend and Kase-san finding different ways to express her love/hunger for the cutie. As for the OVA, cramming the second part of the first series in an hour definitely had the downside of excluding some important moments, yes, but it at least covered some of the best moments in the manga. The first half of the story was summarized in a five-minute music video. One last thing. The animation, though a bit too brought for some, was glorious. It also had some long pauses which were effective (The bus stop scene being the most infamous) but while I did not mind them at all even I will admit some pauses went a bit too long. A small nitpick all things considered. Fingers crossed one day we either get that 12-13 episode anime for the first series, the sequel or both. That is one of my dreams.

YuriMother: At last, an anime that I do not have to react cynically to! Kase-san is one of the single greatest works of yuri animation to ever to be created and its glory is rivaled only by the manga from which it originated. Despite being only a one hour long OVA this adaption told such an engaging and realistic (finally) story of romance and personal growth. We get to skip the meatless girl meets girls arcs and get into the depth and complexity as Yamada and Kase work to further their relationship. They struggle with the fact that they are two different people who want different things out of life and love and have to actually work on their partnership. Kase-san also includes signs of physical affection and love that are never lewd, immature, or gross, I do not even think I could refer to them as “service”. However, for me, Kase-san’s greatest victory (both the anime and manga) is in its escape from school romance, which in this genre is often a shelter from reality, allowing for women to be in relationships without actually being queer. Kase and Yamada instead make an effort to continue their romance and build a life that includes their relationship once they graduate in a triumphant final act. This anime is a slap in the face to the class S stories and sloppily sexualized works which proliferate the yuri genre. Asagao to Kase-san shines as a holy beacon for the greatness that this genre can achieve.

6. Puella Magi Madoka Magica - 286 Votes

YuriMother: Hurray!! For two entries in a row, I get to talk about series that I wholeheartedly adore without having to constantly attach caveats. Puella Magi Madoka Magica is not considered by all to be yuri, and that is certainly not what it is best known for. PMMM is however famous for twisting the tropes of the magical girl genre and creating one of the most cohesive and thoughtful narratives ever put to screen. This series summoned a new era for the magical girl genre (what OG humorously referred to as the “Moepocalypse”) but no other title managed to top Madoka Magica’s runaway success. Every aspect of this work is highly polished including character designs, a phenomenal soundtrack, and superb writing. This is not only the definitive work of its genre but of all postmodern anime. Whether or not one is a fan of yuri every anime fan should give Madoka Magica a watch.

OG: Meduka Meguca. Its impact in the “Moepocalypse” (Shows where cute and sexy girls consistently suffering physically and emotionally. These are usually dark magical girl shows.) genre and legacy are undeniable. It deserves all the praise it gets. It scarred many unfortunate souls, Homura is a legend in yuridom, Kyouko X Sayaka are glorious (Especially in Rebellion), Meduka’s Mom Junko is a Top Tier Sexy Mama, Charlotte the Witch is a very strange girlfriend and of course Hitomi is a walking anti-fun meme. The animation, especially the creepy doodle like monsters known as Witches are memorable. However, it is not my favorite Moepocalypse show. That honor goes to Yuki Yuna is a Hero.

7. Strawberry Panic - 224 Votes

OG: Like it or not Strawberry Panic is a yuri classic. I have a strong feeling that like many readers around my age (31 during this writing) this was their first 100% yuri anime. The cheese is real but it is the yummy kind of cheese and I loved almost every minute of it, except Amane X Hikari. That was the weakest of the love stories going on. Poor Yaya trying too hard (Not saying this in condescending way. She literally tried too hard). It is like a young adult lesbian novel but more fun. I mean Nagisa X Shizuma might as well be “Lesbian Twilight but not crappy”. Let us be honest, Shizuma is a vampire. Chikaru is an undisputed goddess and Kagome is the cutest.

Oh and I will repeat this statement till my last breath…

#TamaoWasRobbed.

YuriMother: I may be almost a decade younger than OG but even for me Strawberry Panic was my first yuri and it more than earns its nickname as the “gateway yuri,” although last year’s Citrus and Bloom Into You may be presenting serious contenders for this title. If for no other reason than nostalgia, Strawberry Panic remains my favorite yuri works but this ridiculous soap-opera of an anime does deserve a fair amount of recognition. I see Strawberry Panic as the culmination of the S subgenre revived by Maria Watches Over Us. However, this work succeeds at both parodying many of the tropes of S and yuri while breaking a few. However, its greatest accomplishment is introducing many of the young western fans of yuri to the genre. Strawberry Panic, you are an overly dramatic mess but thank you for all you have done.

8. Revolutionary Girl Utena - 176 Votes

YuriMother: Another gem of the yuri genre, actually scratch that, if works like Kase-san are gems then Utena is the minerals from which gems form. I think that is how it works, I am not a geologist. My poor analogies and subtle nods to Steven Universe aside, Revolutionary Girl Utena is one of the single most important works of yuri anime, possibly even more so than Sailor Moon. These two works were the dawn of the current age of yuri, an era spurn on by social progress and the internet into a place where more yuri works featuring honest depictions of homosexuality are flourishing. Utena laid the groundwork for queer representation in anime and for that I remain forever grateful to this masterpiece.

OG: I must confess. While I saw the movie long ago and thought it was cool I have yet to sit down and finish watching the main series. I cannot say much about this show other than it is another yuri classic. Possibly one of the biggest. I think I will leave this to Her Holiness because even if I had seen it I do not consider myself someone who possesses the sufficient intellect to properly explain why this is a legendary show.

9. Flip Flappers - 132 Votes

OG: I would need an essay to explain why this show is legendary. Let me see. It is a story of a girl who discovered her gayness thanks to her growing attraction to a lovable idiot/genki. There are references to Western media, dimension hopping (including Class S Hell), self-discovery, a sexual orientation journey, a tree, armored wedding gowns, crazy third wheels, Ku Klux Klan stand-ins…You know what? Just watch Flip Flappers. It is a hot mess of random, crazy, creative and thought provoking awesomeness with a wonderful dose of gayness. Glory be to PapiCoco. However, as Her Holiness mentioned this is essentially Ikuhara-san levels of weirdness (though not as complicated I feel) but as the plot thickens it all (sort of) starts making sense...eventually. That tree yo.

YuriMother: Flip Flappers was almost too strange and abstract even for me, and that is saying something. However, upon further examination, one of the most interesting works of yuri is revealed. This heavily stylized anime delves deep into the sexual maturation of its protagonist while examining the yuri genre and representation in media. Flip Flappers is the perfect marriage of heavy visual style and intellectual substance. Definitely give them one a.. err better make that three watches, as you will want to be sure to get everything out of this beautiful series as possible.

10. Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid - 131 Votes

YuriMother: This series is the closest anime fans have to a lesbian couple having a family that we have, and that is a shame. I LOVE family narratives, outside of the yuri genre Usagi Drop is my favorite anime. To me, seeing women balance life, a relationship, and children is some of the best queer representation there is. However, for every point in Kobayashi’s favor, there is also a glaring fault. Kobayashi is a modern woman in the workforce providing for herself and her “family,” but is borderline abusive to Tohru. Kanna is an inquisitive child being raising by two women, but there are weirdly sexual scenes featuring her. As previously mentioned on this list, if one can silence the reasonable part of the brain this work becomes enjoyable, hilarious, and adorable. Unfortunately, its faults prevent it from being more than an amusement and I seriously doubt that they will fade in the second season. But hey, it sells a ton of figures so… YAY!

OG: This series is one of the closest yuri fans have to a series starring a lesbian couple with a daughter and it is wonderful. Is the tale of an eternally grateful dragon who wanted to repay the human who saved her life, albeit drunk, by becoming her live-in maid. Tohru being a dragon girl had incredible power and could easily crush everyone in sight but preferred to try and understand humanity so she could live in peace with the woman she loved. It of course was hard at times but thanks to Miss Kobayashi slowly growing to accept her back (romantically she had a ways to go) and the two raising the adorable bundle of mighty puff known as Kanna they became a happy family. How long this relationship will last and whether Miss Kobayashi would come to fully love Tohru back romantically remains to be seen. I have high hopes it can and will happen. Kanna X Riko is precious (Yes. Even that scene). We even have a potential BL couple, which is nice. Not a fan of Lucoa X Shouta the shota. Not because of the age gap but it not being my kind of romantic comedy. It is the same reason I have a hard time buying Tsubame X Misha from UzaMaid. Mya-Nee X Hana from Wataten...maybe. At least Mya-Nee showed she is patient. Back to Dragon Maid. Great series. Naughty of course but great.

11. Sweet Blue Flowers (Aoi Hana) - 119 Votes

OG: Megane girl falls for a cutie but has a hard time confessing to her to the point she gives a relationship with another girl a try. Said other girl has troubles of her own courtesy of her own views on what love. Do not get me started on the OTHER girl who likes megane’s girlfriend. I did not even mention megane girl’s first love interest who she herself eventually begins questioning her feelings for the glasses wearing maiden. While this is well known throughout the history of yuri anime Aoi Hana made it clearer than ever that Yuri + Classical Music go hand in hand. Plus the show is quite pretty. Ultimately enjoyment of this series depends heavily on viewers’ patience.

YuriMother: Aoi Hana was ahead of its time in many regards. Most yuri during the early twenty-first century was unrealistic and melodramatic, especially with the revival of S stories. Aoi Hana instead presents a calm and realistic story that we still rarely see in yuri anime today. Instead of relying on tricks like service or comedy Aoi Hana presents a serene and character-driven story which is matched by equally calming scenery. It is certainly not the most thrilling watch, but a slow and beautiful slice of real life that remains one of the all-time strongest yuri works.

12. Yurikuma Arashi - 99 Votes

YuriMother: Yurikuma Arashi is strange, to say the least, but this is not out of the ordinary for legendary director Ikuhara, who also directed Utena. Parallels are easily drawn between this work and Flip Flappers, as they are both complex and encoded with enough symbolism to drown a bear. Yurikuma is one of my favorite works in the yuri genre and I have had more than a few heated discussions about interpretations of the work, including one memorable occasion when I was visiting a college professor and we ended up in a shouting match in the middle of the hall. However, while Flip Flappers holds a high degree of polish the same can, unfortunately, not be said here. Yurikuma Arashi has more than a few scenes of fanservice many of which overly fetishize the characters and relationship and some of the symbols, particularly lily flowers and the word “yuri” are practically beaten to death with an object I refuse to come up with because I am starting to have my fill of symbolism. However, despite some of its sloppiness, Yurikuma is one of the single most interesting and well-formed anime out there and analyzing it is practically a right of passage for seasoned yuri fans.

OG: Yurikuma Arashi is my favorite of Ikuhara-san’s series. To me it was the least complicated of his works but even so I needed help to understand the show. Luckily I had plenty of assistance. The meat of the story is more complicated but put simply it is about a war between a group of bear girls (and some human girls) who want to freely express their love and/or desire/hunger for each other and another group that amounts to Right to Censor from WWF. Like I said it is far more complex than that but that is the gist. The anime is quite ecchi and it has good reason for it. Again the gay bears are the more liberated of the groups and them getting more sexy scenes is meant to showcase that. Our heroine has good reason to be grumpy and a divine entity was introduced alongside a certain someone from a certain dark anime we already discussed.

In the end it is a show starring lesbian bear girls. I love love stories between women and i love bears. It was obvious I would end up enjoying this one. Like other complex stories it is not for everyone. Shows like Flip Flappers, Utena and Yurikuma have something of a learning people will have to get accustomed to in order to enjoy them.

13. Whispered Words (Sasameki Koto) - 88 Votes

OG: To me Aoi Hana and Sasameki Koto were always connected despite the former being a drama and the latter a comedy. Both star a female protagonist struggling with how to best tell the girl she likes her true feelings whereas their love interest for one reason or another makes it all the more challenging to get their feelings across. Both shows aired during a time yuri was not as popular of a genre as it would become over time. Perhaps if they had come out a little later when yuri was becoming more popular in the mainstream they would have fared better…Then again they may have helped set the groundwork for future yuri shows so it’s just as well they came out when they did. In any case both good shows worthy of “best of yuri” lists. SK has the dynamic of the megane in love and her somewhat airheaded love interest who specifically likes “cute girls”. Poor megane has a hard time figuring out what the airhead defines as “cute”. The show also features an amusing side-couple of an ojou-sama and her tsundere girlfriend. Not to mention the somewhat controversial side-girl who plays a more prominent role in the 2nd half of the anime. Heck, even Mr Crossdresser himself is cool. Let us not forget Miss “Ha Ha Ha!” Another really good show that I would love to see the rest of the manga get animated someday but considering most anime are essentially manga commercials and the SK manga ended the odds of a 2nd season are close to 0.

YuriMother: 2009 was a great year for yuri anime, with both Sasameki Koto and Aoi Hana, among other works, airing. But while Aoi Hana sought to resist many of the common tropes of the genre and tell a simple grounded story Sasameki Koto appears to have looked a the list of every convention possible and say “yeah I can do that.” It has melodrama, comedy, one-sided love, friend love stories, I worship this genre but even I think there is a limit. However, Sasameki Koto is one of the most competent yuri anime works of the current era. While all the tropes are present most of the problematic aspects of the genre are not. The story is well written, characters enjoyable, and art that is really well done for the time. I enjoy every watch and if I ever want to quickly download the genre’s tropes into another person's head I need only duct tape them to a chair and throw on Sasameki Koto.

14. Riddle Story of Devil (Akuma no Riddle) - 77 Votes

YuriMother: Akuma no Riddle was highly anticipated back in 2014, sporting a premise of student assassins that, while certainly not unique, was outside the norms for the yuri genre. It promised a dark and thrilling take on the yuri genre that would not become popular until the yuri horror trend a few years later. At first, it looked like this would be successful with an excellent setup and some pretty compelling characters but ultimately Akuma no Riddle fell flat and became more derailed as it continued. The monster of the week style of episodes left little room for complex plots and plans or proper character development, which is a shame because of how engaging so many of the assassins were upon original presentation. However, this show still has some of the best action in the yuri genre, placing it alongside series like Cannan and Utena despite its flawed storytelling. If nothing else, the anime may compel one to read the manga, which expands the story and characters more than the show was given time to.

OG: Professional assassins secretly gathered at an academy in an attempt to take the life of a seemingly innocent cutie to win the ultimate prize, one of whom wishes to protect the adorable redhead. Yes the manga, which is pretty much a Director’s Cut, is better and the anime would have benefited from having 20+ episodes instead of 12 and a delightful beach OVA but the show did a good job of showing viewers what each assassin was like, their motivations (though many of their origin stories were summarized in written biographies during commercial breaks viewers needed to pause to read) were clear enough and the duels, as brief as some of them were, had enough spicy goodness in them to be memorable, especially the ones in the latter half of the show. Oh, and although the manga wrapped up after the anime it had a very similar ending.

15. Revue Starlight - 72 Votes

OG: Gay theater girls who strive to become the top star, meaning the best actress or lead actor of the cast. How do they do it? By working hard and overcoming their personal hardships? Yes. That. What makes this show so wonderful despite being almost a year old as of this writing is not only do the ladies all have interesting stories to tell but so does the stage. Every song, prop, movement, dance, gesture etc. It is like the performers and performances are united. It is like in Spongebob where not only does the person in the boots tell a story but the boots as well.

Oh yes. I almost forgot to mention the mysterious underground theater and talking giraffe. Never forget the talking giraffe from Hell. #Wakarimasu.

Super cool and super gay.

YuriMother: Bushiroad continuously gets better at what they do, creating media franchises of cute girls filled with music and making mountains of cash from smartphone games. Inspired by the likes of Love Live, they created BanG Dream and last year Revue Starlight. However, where these franchises fell short Revue Starlight success. It never twists its characters to tell a story but rather creates compelling arcs around them. I thoroughly enjoyed and agree with its place on this list.

16. Konohana Kitan - 68 Votes

YuriMother: I know of Konohana Kitan for its constant presence at yuri events more so than the anime or even the manga. It is adorable, relaxing, simple, and fun. While it does not add anything super substantial to the genre it does not take anything either or present any objectionable material. The “plot” is nonexistent but that does not matter, as it is not trying to tell a story or make commentary, just be fluffy and simple.

OG: Konohana Kitan to me is a Girls Club (Cute girls doing cute things) and iyashikei hybrid anime. It is visually stunning as it is relaxing with Yuzu pretty much one of the cutest demigoddesses in existence. She of course is a chick magnet but her heart will forever belong to Satsuki.

17. Destiny of the Shrine Maiden (Kannazuki no Miko) - 65 Votes

OG: The other stuff on the show is still not that great but ChiMeko will forever stand the test of time as far as I’m concerned. Top 10 for their love story alone. Yes. I know THAT ONE SCENE continues being controversial and talked about every time curious new yuri fans witness greatness…but I will forever defend Chikane because I get where she was coming from. Would I have done something different? Yes. The thing is you need to put yourself in her shoes and understand what she wanted to accomplish and how far she would go to get it done. Kotoha is best side-character and Souma Ogami is real man’s man who does not deserve the hate. He was an honorable warrior to the end. He fought well and accepted defeat like a man. Plus his yell is inspirational.

YuriMother: My feelings on Kannazuki no Miko are incredibly mixed. It has many of the worst facets of early current era yuri anime, tropes include S, rape and… am I reading this correctly, demon mechs? Worst of all it presents a cycle, a never-ending loop that haunts the characters in the overarching plot and it does not resolve it. If a work ever presents such an element, like Puella Magi did, it must be overcome or confronted at least. Its presence makes the already cringy story feels cheap and lazy. However, I love the two female leads and their difficult relationship. I love the music, especially the hauntingly beautiful ending theme, and the final moments of episode 11 are some of the greatest seconds I have ever seen in an anime. I cannot wrap my mind around my view of this series but at the end of the day, I understand it. I do not believe that work like it would ever be warmly accepted today but for its time it does stand as a breakout piece of yuri anime.

18. Princess Principal - 61 Votes

YuriMother: Princess Principal is one of the best anime of the past few years. It had everything, an interesting premise, great characters, an incredible soundtrack. Alongside all this is the sharp writing and thrilling story. Princess Principal did everything Akuma no Riddle wanted to with an intriguing and action-packed story featuring strong characters. On top of all this, the animation is top notch. A six-part movie sequel is planned which has me somewhat concerned, but I am glad to see that it is being continued as the ending to the series was one of its weakest aspects. Now if you will excuse me, I need to listen to some jazz.

OG: Cute and sexy gay spies in a dramatic British Steampunk setting. What more do readers need? Allow Her Holiness to elaborate a bit further. Currently waiting for the multi-part cinematic continuation.

19. Izetta: The Last Witch - 60 Votes

OG: I am known for loving shows people do not think as highly of. Izetta: The Last Witch is no different. I love this show so much. Besides how certain events transpired some complained about the depiction of WW2. Basically think about people ranting about storylines and content featured in certain Call of Duty and Battlefield games. Here however, it is clearly a fictional great war inspired by WW2. I was invested in the following:

-The cute and sexy ladies.

-Seeing two badass lesbians lead an army against an evil empire.

-FiZetta’s romance. This of course being the major highlight. I love FiZetta so much. My sexy lesbian babies and Anne X Grea’s mentors. They taught them everything they know after all.

It is similar to how I felt watching Kannazuki no Miko where my focus was primarily on the leading ladies’ developing romance. The difference is that unlike Kannazuki I was also somewhat entertained by our heroines’ enemies along with their allies. Basically viewers’ enjoyment of the show depends on how seriously they take their history and are willing to overlook the liberties this story takes with its depictions of the weapons, military and the familiar evil empire. FiZetta are one of my favorite lesbian couples of all time.

By the way, in that famous scene, yes they did. Viewers just have to squint their eyes to see “it”.

YuriMother: Another show that I consider to have squandered its potential. I know that lots of people enjoyed this one, including OG but I could not bring myself to finish this constantly mediocre series. Perhaps I am tired of alternative light-fantasy European-war inspired plots. Trying to stand out in this bloated genre is difficult and Izetta fails. Izetta started strong and hooked many viewers with its amazing visual and auditory polish but this was quickly lost in the plot which, while set up well, struggle to gain any ground of pay off what had been established. On the yuri side, it did not really do anything interesting or satisfying, with plenty of scenes feature the character’s standing next to each other looking cute and one or two moments of actual yuri. I am glad that some of you were able to enjoy this one more than me at least.

20. Maria Watches Over Us (Maria-sama ga Miteru) - 57 Votes

OG: Like Strawberry Panic this is a “Like it or not” classic. Despite being a Class S show it did its own thing and became a pioneer for . It’s also responsible for the many yuri jokes related to all-girl schools in anime.Shimako X Noriko best Grande and Petite Souer! Yumiko X Sachiko were great too as the two grew to better understand each other. Most memorable scene for me was the panda costume. Even Sei is a sleeper icon in all yuridom. Yoshino X Rei had a very interesting dynamic. I actually think they are the real pioneers of relationships between cousins. Thank you YoshiRei. HaruKana, Kaede X Sara and several others owe you two much appreciation.

YuriMother: Another great and significant series, Maria Watches Over Us, took the tropes of early yuri works, Catholic schools, a lack of men, piano scenes, and emotional relationship rather than physical ones and turned the dial up to 11. For better or worse, it single-handedly revived the Class S genre and was copied (and parodied) endlessly for over a decade. However much I complain about S I actually do not think that we would have the current age of yuri without its popularity and proliferation at the beginning of the century so I owe a big thank you to Maria Watches Over Us for that. Ignoring its historical importance and literary significance the anime still presents an engaging plot with wonderful characters and more butchered French than my last trip to Europe. It is certainly worth a watch and worthy of a place on this list.

What do you think should be on this list?:

YuriMother: As I previously said, this is a pretty perfect list. As far as missing titles I can think of the following.

Simoun - not the greatest in terms of plot or animation but it had cute service and a fun action-packed plot.

Kashimashi: Girl Meets Girl - This series may be strange and present the dreaded love triangle but it did its best to tell a transgender narrative in 2006, naturally this involved aliens, and I applaud it for its attempts.

Cannan - This series is light on the yuri but heavy on the suspense, action, and amazing character designs. The terrorist plot is exciting and the final train fight featured in the series is one of the greatest action spectacles in anime that somehow manages to remain grounded.

OG:

-Harukana Receive: Best all-female sports anime ever made. Plus the gayness is not subtle at all.

-Mikagura Gakuen Kumikyoku: Eruna Ichinomiya is an underrated yuri icon. While not the first of her kind (That honor, I think, goes to Galaxy Fraulein Yuna) she set the standard of cool and inspirational badass lesbian protagonists who are proud of who they are and...also happen to be super perverts. Eruna made it cool to be such a protagonist. It is nice seeing a lesbian lead who does not care what anyone else thinks. She is hungry for cute girl booties. While she often loses her control in the presence of pure beauty she, as an inspiration for others like her, has enough self-control to not go overboard (most of the time).

-Symphogear: Symphogear is love, Symphogear is life. Hopefully Season 5 will keep up the good work.

-Rinne no Lagrange: My favorite mecha anime and the reason I embrace OT3s when the signs are there. Not the greatest but man was it fun. Plus Madoka Kyouno is still sexy.

-Yuki Yuna wa Yuusha de Aru: My favorite Moepocalypse anime of all time. Yuna X Togo taught me to love and trust some people outside my closest family again.

-Mouretsu Pirates: If someone were to ask me “Hey OG. What to you is the perfect anime?”. I would tell them Mouretsu/Bodacious Space Pirates.

-Kashimashi: Girl Meets Girl. Thanks to the first fan commenting and reminding me of it. Definitely worthy of a spot. #HazumuWasAlwaysFemale

Final Thoughts:

OG: Pretty good list and close to what mine would look like were I to make one. Reason I have yet to do so is because I do not feel confident enough to pick a favorite yuri anime of all time. Favorite yuri manga and couples? That I can do, but anime always seems to give me a hard time choosing my absolute favorites. Like I said though, a potential yuri list of mine would look something like this. I also found it interesting how similar the Top 10 are among both our respective fanbases and visitors to the poll conducted by the Akiba Research Institute.

YuriMother: I may have done most the complaining and left the praise to OG but I actually and really happy with this list. I think that every title presented is a worthy addition and while I would certainly move some higher or lower than their current placing I do not believe that these are too far off from my own opinions, which is surprising for a popularity poll. More than anything I am thrilled to see that works I dislike that I thought to be popular did not make this list. Perhaps I should have more faith in people and their opinions. Everyone did such a wonderful job voting and I am so grateful!

Thank you so much everyone for reading and for voting in the top yuri anime poll. To see the full results of the poll and to support yuri news, reviews, and content, check out the YuriMother Patreon. Happy Pride Month

#yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+ #pride #pride month #queer #gay #anime #cartoon #tv #lesbian #lesbians #girls love #wlw #gl #poll #manga

[dragonswithjetpacks]

I did it! I started a fic on Ao3 to put everything together. You’ll probably see my Ao3 clear up a bit in Ferelith’s series. I’ll probably just keep everything up here on Tumblr because I’m lazy. Master list will be updated accordingly. Which means when I feel like it.

Theurgist

Chapter One: A Crone Warns of Darkness

-dragonswithjetpacks

Notes: A rework of my previous Astarion x Ferelith works turned into a full fledged fic. I basically did it. Started the fic. You’ll probably be seeing me update it as I go along.

Read here on Ao3.

The cool breeze brought from the afternoon shift in the clouds rustled the papers like frantic fingers in the loft of the library. There was the sudden sound of wood scraping against wood as the assistant pushed the ladder against the far the wall, rushing up it to close the the open window. It fluttered just out of her grasp, but with reflexes as quick as hers, there was little that escaped. She clutched the brass handle on the inside of the pane and pulled it against the sill tightly.

"Alright," she said quietly to herself. "There will be none of that today."

With a satisfied grin, she descended the steps, brushing off the front of her apron with it's many pockets. Noticing the disarray on the table, she turned to assess the damage. The notes were shifted a bit, but no harm was done to the original organization of the writings. As she picked them up, stacking them on top of each other with out of order pages between fingers, she took a quick glimpse at the writings. There were glyphs, many of which she knew, with incantations and rituals written in the margins. To the sides were components, mostly those of a a higher value, and the effects of the time of day the ritual would be cast. Her pale yellow eyes scanned over them quickly, but her research was cut short by the tapping of a loud cane up the wooden staircase.

"Ferelith! Ferelith, what have I told you about closing the window!"

For years Ferelith had studied the fey and their affect on the wild. The combinations of natural phenomenon and magical abilities were her specialty. Down to the very point her soul had fused with the fey itself. And yet, here she was... looking after an old bookshop replicating old tomes for a daft, blind, and nearly deaf old woman. The thoughts always lingered how she came to be in Baldur's Gate, why she had been there for so long. And it always brought her back to her simple path. The path of knowledge. One that rested in a single tome that she kept in her breast pocket at all times. A small tome with words that were unfamiliar to her.

"Get up there and open that window! I can't stand this stuffy place."

"Let me gather the papers, first, please," she bustled even quicker around the table.

"Don't leave such a mess and you wouldn't have to worry about!"

The old crone remained vigilant in the doorway. Her eyes could not see the study in where Ferelith worked, but she knew the shop as if it were part of her very flesh. And she required an open window for ventilation. This bothered the warlock she had employed, of course. As Ferelith was very adamant about closing all windows and doors to protect the books inside from ware. The old woman, though, she knew better. And she grinned knowingly as she could hear her assistant scrambling about the room.

"Oh how I long for your death," she grumbled quietly between gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

"How long until we receive winter's breath?" she perked her head up with a charming smile.

"How am I supposed to know that? Check the ledger."

"Right of course," she smiled just as the woman ducked down the hall out of sight. "Of course I'll check the ledger... the ledger I write in every day... that I memorize... you crazed old bat."

The woman was a terror to her stress, but she was beyond capable of producing ancient spells. No one believed this, of course. Which is why she ran a bookshop on a corner of the most run down part of Baldur's Gate. And it's why she sold makeshift herbs and potions on the side. And also why she agreed to hire Ferelith to begin with. It was low income, but she had endless access the tomes as well as a cot to sleep within the loft. The dust did her no good, but she had become quite friendly with the spiders and mice.

More importantly, she was left to study to her heart’s content once her work was finished. Being a transcribe would have been a difficult task for most. But Ferelith was different. With being a warlock and holding a close connection to her patron, she was able to read any language placed in front of her. This was something she used to make coin often during her early years of adventure and excitement. Though now, this was her career. A path she had chosen to stay comfortable as she pursued other and more important goals. For the past ten years, all Ferelith had known was the feeling of a quill at her fingertips, the beautiful art of calligraphy, and the constant image of words floating through her vision.

This kept her patron content. For the majority of the time. There were days it longed for the forest. And in those days, she would travel to gardens. Or to the edge of Neverwinter. But for the most part, he was happy to lose himself in a book just as she was. He was eager to learn. And she was happy to oblige. The more they learned together, the more they could use against the spell against them. She patted the book in her breast pocket lovingly with a sigh. The true meaning of a blessing... and a curse. It was best not to dwell on nostalgia, though, and she picked up a broom to head downstairs to close the shop for the night. There was a project that awaited her finishing touches. And she never left a book waiting.

Scratches of quill on paper filled the dusty loft among shelves of mahogany. A window open in the upper part of the high ceiling welcome a gentle breeze. Her papers shifted atop her writing desk causing her hands to leap out in haste to catch them. The damned window. Just a few more sentences and she was almost done. One hand resumed it’s stance, spread over the tome and holding it open so she could read the dwarvish inside. The other was equipped with her pen waving and twirling around giant pages, filling them with the common tongue others could understand. With a heavy sigh, she made her final dot.

"There," she said, sitting up and stretching her back that had been slumped over for several hours.

Sliding from the the chair, she grabbed her cloak that was draped over the back. She wrapped it around her, ignoring the scarf as the night seemed quite lovely outside despite the breeze. She climbed up the latter, shutting the window, and climbed back down, dusting her hands onto her apron once more. Carefully, she began to wrap the book she was reading into a burlap cloth. She placed it into an over shoulder bag on a coat rack nearby. And she repeated the process with three other books that rested nearby. Once the ink had dried on the book she had written in, she flipped through it one last time. A month's work finally finished. She shut the book, admiring it's deep blue cover and golden embroidery. It was too large to place into the bag.

"You're going out?" a throaty voice said from the doorway, disturbing her admiration for her own creation.

The disheveled old woman stood the doorway watching Ferelith run her hand across the book. She shifted onto her cane, her feet already bothering her from standing too long.

"The Thornbeards are eager customers," Ferelith slung the strap over her head. "They'll be grateful for the late delivery so long they don't have to wait until morning."

"Fair enough," the woman nodded. "Be careful tonight, Ferelith... It's dark out."

The cryptic bat was warning her, but she took most of her notions of danger with a grain of salt. The woman had barely left the comfort of her shop since Ferelith had started living there. She had done the shopping, the organizing, the promoting of their business, the deliveries. In truth, it had appeared the book shop was Ferelith's. Time would only tell if she would inherit it. Or it would get swallowed up with the rest of the run down buildings in a pile of dust when the woman passed.

"Don't worry," Ferelith grinned. "If I don't came back, that will give you the excuse you need to hire a much younger and handsome hand."

"Bah," the woman waved her hands. "Jokes all the time. Jokes from you. See if I care."

Ferelith touched her shoulder gently as she passed by with a sarcastic smile. Her feet were quick down the steps as she was determined to end the night. The taps of a cane echoed through the shop, even down to the lower floor where Ferelith searched her pockets for her keys. It was the last thing she heard as she left, turning to shut the door behind her and locking it with her silver keys. She took a look up at the old building, her home. For now. Just above, she could see the moon blanketed heavily by clouds. There would be no stars to light her way that night. The old crone was right... the night was dark indeed.

It was a long walk into the upper part of town. The district Ferelith resided in was known to be a rather unwealthy and large area commonly known as Heapside. While not entirely littered with crime, it still had it's fair share of homeless and pickpockets. Most of the buildings on the street she lived on were abandoned. And the shops that did exist were on their last leg. It was a mystery how the old woman had managed to have such a prosperous collection and business. Then again, Ferelith had raised it's reputation tenfold since her arrival. The beautiful elf with dark hair and a cold voice with an ethereal demeanor that could transcribe nearly anything was highly sought after. Yes... she was well known. Even to the extent of the some of the higher districts. Which was precisely where she was headed.

The wind began to pick up and it felt much colder than before. Ferelith looked up to the moon now completely covered in the sky. She had not sensed rain nor smelled it. Perhaps the old woman was right. There was an eeriness to the air. Picking up her pace, she began to trot down the street. She twisted and turned, careful which alleyways she ducked into. Until finally she had reached the black iron fence of the Thornbeards. It was a grand estate with two wondrous statues of goats at the door. Ferelith marched up the carved stone stairs and took the the door handle into her hand. She knocked loudly three times. And waited. The door opened, a good sized with dwarf with dark hair pulled back into a braid appearing to answer with alert eyes.

"Lady Moonshade?" he said, bringing his candle closer to her face. "My lady, it's terrible late."

"I'm sorry to trouble you, Brunan," she took the pack from off her shoulder still clutching the book in her hand. "But I've come to return Lord Thornbeard's collection."

"You're not bothering me at all!" he happily took the bag from her. "I'm just afraid for your safety, my dear!"

"No need to fret," she held her work proudly in both hands. "This is well worth it. The final piece."

She held it out, the gold shimmering in the candle light. Brunan's eyes widened at the sight of it. He sat the candle down at the edge of the stone railing and took the book into his own hands. Opening it carefully, he cherished the sound of the spine cracking. The old groundskeeper smiled, looking down at the first page, and seeing the tree drawn onto it.

"I didn't know you were an artist," he said.

"I'm most certainly not," she grinned. "It's a copy. From one of the originals."

"The family will be quite pleased with this. I'm sure," he nodded slowly. "You're done us a great services, Ferelith."

"That means more than you," she crossed her hands in front of her. "I can expect payment on the morning?"

"Always the greedy one, aren't we?" he chuckled. "Of course. But I do have something for you."

"Oh?" he ears perked.

Brunan leaned inside, setting the book down onto a corner table. He opened a drawer, pulling out a small wooden box. It was stained and smelled of sweet cherry wood. When Ferelith took it, she felt the smooth surface beneath her hand. It was fine craftsmanship. She lifted the lead seeing a red velvet cloth inside. And beneath that, a red leather bound book. The pages were crisp and white. And sewn into the cover was a red velvet bookmark.

"Lord Thornbeard wanted to thank you personally. But you know words aren't his forte."

"No," Ferelith smiled. "This is perfect. Thank you."

"I believe we are thankful to you. The family history will reside on Thornbeard shelves for generations."

"If there's anything else you need, Brunan, do not hesitate to visit us."

"In the meantime, Lady Moonshade, you take care."

"Until then," she gave a slight bow.

Brunan nodded back, shutting the door and disappearing inside. Ferelith took a step down, still staring at the door and listening. There was a slight shout from a distant room and she knew the lord of the house had his commission bestowed onto him. Finally pleased with herself, she took her leave, pulling her cloak tightly around her. It had somehow gotten colder. That didn't seem to affect the night life of the upper district, though. The tavern nearby was bustling and she could hear the music playing loudly from an open window. She paused for a moment, peering inside from her place on the cobblestone road. There were finely carved wooden chairs, polished tables, fancy lit scones, and beautiful tapestries. The nobles dancing inside were all dressed in fine silks and embroidered robes. Ferelith looked down, looking at her old tattered tunic. It had been nearly a century since she had last worn a dress.

Just as her mind began to wander back to her previous lives, a loud bang echoed through the streets. Pouring out of the now wide open door came two gentlemen, one with his arm wrapped around the other. They were smiling, smitten with one another. She lowered her hands, scanning over them. Clearly, they were drunk. For a moment, she thought they would not notice her. But one did. He looked up, his eyes shooting a warning glare. Ferelith did not get the best look at the man. But she noted his eyes and could only describe them with a single word of hunger. They stared at one another until he disappeared into the alley nearby. It wasn't the effort to follow and she began to head back down the road to her little and safe bookshop.

Until she heard a scream. Ferelith turned toward the alleyway, hearing the piercing cry of a man. She ran, feeling the books in her apron slapping against her thighs. She had forgotten to remove it. But it did not matter. She rounded the corner and followed the sounds. A scream had been silenced. And then more shouting ensued. The horrors of what she found left her speechless as she skidded to a halt in front of a pool of blood. A man lay face down, a hole bore into the top of his skull. Ferelith looked up, a tall tentacled monster holding another man by the neck.

"Do something!" he shouted before it tightened it’s grip

"What is this?" she faltered, her eyes widening.

Her presence alarmed the humanoid creature, drawing its small yellow eyes to her attention. She stammered back, her feet ready to run. But she held fast.

It's no use.

The voice in the back of her head was right. It usually was. She looked to the man, helpless and squirming against the wall. This was not her fight. And she was certain it was one not worth winning.

"Don't you dare leave me," the man gurgled, the hand wrapped around his neck tightening.

The creature reached out and Ferelith felt a tug at her head. The voice inside her thoughts cried out in pain, but Ferelith herself resisted. Red streaks of lightening flew across her fingertips as an anger trigger within. She began to run toward the monster, casting forth a blast of energy. The thing dodged, dropping the man to his knees and allowing him to gasp for air. Ferelith had no weapons, only her wits. If she could stall for just a bit longer, perhaps he could help. But as he looked up, she saw he would be of no use. Ferelith turned back to the humanoid, realizing how grave her mistake was. His hand reached out again. And Ferelith felt a cold grasp reach into her mind. Her feet lifted from the ground. It felt as if the air itself was suffocating her. The monster looked down to white haired man, striking him across the face with its other hand and causing him to fall unconscious. She began to gasp desperately. Everything turned black. And she never felt her body hit the ground.

#bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 oc #astarion #ferelith #ferelith writing tag #i wasn't going to tag him since this is just the opening chapter #but expect a lot of him in the next couple days #astarion x mc

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: Hi there, I told you I wouldn’t abandon this little slice of fluff completely! Slow updates yes, but never forgotten <3 I also figured, after today’s episode (no spoilers of course!!), and the overall quarantine situation, you all probably need a bit of brightening up, and now with so much more free time, I’m happy to oblige! 

And because I don’t say it enough, thank you so much for reading, and putting up with these now sporadic little updates. Writing time is coming in either waves or drips, but I so so appreciate the encouragement, and the warm welcome the fandom always brings! As much as I haven’t forgotten this story, it’s always nice to know the fandom hasn’t forgotten me completely either haha ^_^”

Jamie’s being dramatic, Claire has too many thoughts, and as always, the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Nine: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Ten: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eleven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twelve: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Thirteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Fourteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] Part Fifteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Sixteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seventeen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eighteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Nineteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty-Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Part Twenty-Four: Burdens | Chapter 1

Thursdays, Jamie had decided, were the best.

Well, no, second only to the weekends perhaps but certainly high-ranking for sure. Thursdays he had only one class in the afternoon, and that afforded him more than ample time to snuggle into Claire in bed and see where the morning took them.

Not that they didn’t always end up in the same place – limbs and hearts entangled – but he wasn’t complaining.

Except for this Thursday, he realized as he blindly groped for Claire beside him and came up empty handed.

With a grunt, he begrudgingly floated up to full consciousness and sat up, blearily scanning the room to no avail. Squinting at the backlight of his phone – and the perfectly framed lock screen of a candid Claire adorably sleeping atop a textbook at the dining table – he frowned at the time.

7:15 a.m.?

7:15 was entirely unacceptable for lazy Thursday mornings with Claire.

He was about to call out her name when he caught the scent of something frying. Not burnt, he noted right away as he fished around the floor for his shorts and slipped them on. There was a faint sizzling noise coming from downstairs and, with no real sense of urgency but intent all the same, he half-consciously padded out of the room.

“Sassenach?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he followed her absent humming into the kitchen.

She hadn’t heard him, and he took a moment to lean against the doorframe and watch her. Her back was facing him as – he assumed by the smell and the wee apron tied haphazardly around her waist – she fried eggs on the stovetop, and maybe it was the sheer domesticity or his barely waking state, but he felt his heart clench at the sight. His need from earlier burning into something much deeper than base desire.

Within seconds and with very little thought, he crossed the room and pulled her tight against him, arms snaking around her waist with a soft rumble in his chest that ended on a chuckle as she gasped.

“Ye’re makin’ breakfast?” he mumbled, dropping his head into her neck like he could fall asleep right then and there.

“I was,” she said, wriggling her arms free in an attempt to get back at it. “Good morning to you too, love.” She placed a quick kiss on his crown, and he smiled, returning it against her neck.

“Why’re ye dressed?”

“Joe and I are touring campuses today and tomorrow, remember?”

“Och ayyye,” he drew out with a needlessly heavy sigh. “Ye’re leaving me.”

“You can tone down the dramatics, darling,” she laughed, and he didn’t need to look up at her to know she was rolling her eyes at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Her tone did little to assuage his dramatics. In fact, in his half-waking state he suddenly and brilliantly decided that he wasn’t being dramatic enough, as evidenced by him leaning more of his weight onto her like it might compel her to stay and take root in the kitchen tiles. Or better yet, their bed upstairs.

“Ye’re sure there isna anything I can do to convince ye to stay?”

“Mm, I do believe you tried your very best last night.”

He huffed, soberly. “I can do better, always do like the challenge.”

She made a noise equal parts grunting and giggling as she wriggled around in his arms to face him, poking him indignantly in the cheek.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring your breakfast over.”

He inhaled, slow and deep as he stared her down and she, as resolute as ever, stared right back.

He deflated—

“Fine.”

—then kissed her quickly before retreating to the stools on the other side of the kitchen island.

------

24 things, including train and bus schedules, meeting places, and pertinent questions to ask, completely blurred and dissipated as Jamie’s large arms enveloped her.

His clinginess was to be expected, she thought with a smile as she plated the eggs and turned the stove off. She had hoped the food would distract him first, but in a wager she happily lost, was proven wrong.

The plates had barely touched the island when she found herself swept up and seated astride his lap, a sleep-tousled but thoroughly smug face waiting for her before descending with purpose into her neck.

“You’re—mmph—supposed to be eating the eggs, Jamie!” She squirmed with little conviction, protests dotted with giggles.

“It’s on my to-do list,” he murmured as he nipped his way towards her collarbone.

She shivered as his teeth sunk into her, but tugged at his ear to stop him.

“If I have to spend the whole day hiding a hickey from my future professors and Joe – goddamn – Abernathy—” She held his face by both ears now. “—You will be in so much trouble.”

“Och, aye?” he said with a quirked eyebrow.

She sighed and conceded to kissing him back, because at least that kept his lips from her neck; the prospect of being in trouble with her had never proven to be an effective threat anyway.

“When are ye supposed to meet Abernathy?”

“Mm, an 20 minutes or so?”

Close as they were, she could feel both the corner of his mouth lift upwards and pleased Scottish-sounding noise rumble in his chest.

“Like I said, always do like the challen—”

They both froze at the sound of the doorbell ringing. Two pairs of eyebrows immediately furrowed.

“Is Joe meeting ye here?”

“No…”

Sliding off Jamie’s lap, Claire quickly straightened her outfit and headed to the front foyer, Jamie padding just behind her but far enough behind that he didn’t know who was at the door until he saw a small set of arms wrap around Claire’s waist, knocking her back a step.

“Fergus! W-what the hell are you doing here?” She pulled him from her, and looked over his head, half-expecting to see Jenny and Ian around the corner.

“How’d ye get here, lad?” Jamie said, thinking much the same thing.

“I do know how to take a bus,” the boy said proudly. “And I saw your address written down on a paper on the fridge.”

Claire and Jamie both blinked, gaping at him for just a moment before Claire recovered first.

“Well that doesn’t answer my question,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Don’t you have school?”

His smile faltered only slightly at that.

“Ah oui¸ but—But I do not need to go, it’s alright!”

Claire and Jamie shared a look but, before Jamie could take a stab at reasoning with him, Claire’s phone alarm chimed.

“Shit, I’ve got to go. I—”

Her eyes fell squarely on their new charge and paused. While he likely wouldn’t cause much trouble during the tours, there was the hotel rooms she and Joe booked. But she could potentially set up some pillows on a couch for him if she needed to—

Jamie ran a hand down her arm, as if divining her thoughts.

“It’s alright lass, I’ll take him to campus.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.” He raised an eyebrow at Fergus, who’s bright-eyed smile remained relatively unfazed. “He may not want to go to school, but I have to.”

Now with much more than 24 different thoughts swirling around her head, Claire shrugged. It’d have to do.

“Well alright, call me if you need anything,” she said before grabbing her coat and the bag she had packed by the stairs.

“We’ll be fine, a nighean,” Jamie said, squeezing her hand. “I’d say dinna worry about us, but I ken ye’re going to anyway.”

“I’ll try not to, I guess.” His hand came up to cup her cheek and she leaned into it. “See you tomorrow.”

Keenly aware of one young boy’s eyes on them, Jamie kissed her forehead quickly. Not their typical goodbye, but Claire supposed Jamie’s early morning clinginess was a blessing after all.

Stepping out of his arms to rub Fergus’ mop of curls, she walked past them toward the front door.

“Behave yourself!”

“Are you talking to me, or M’sieur?” Fergus laughed.

“Both!”

Chapter 2 Coming Soon!

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #perfect distractions au #wr writing

[pastelpinkcheeks]

Tolkien Secret Santa 2020!!!

Here’s my gift for the 2020 exchange! Happy holiday to y’all ( @officialtolkiensecretsanta ) and a fantastic New Year ! This was written for @stormwarnings​ uwu I hope you find it cute and funny and that there aren’t many typos on it... I am really bad with the typos. Anyways. Have fun!

Title: In which Thorin learns about Hobbit Christmas 

Rating: G

Summary:  Decorations up in mid-November, a pantry filled to the brim with food and declaring war on your cousin because of presents? It's the Christmas holiday at the Shire and Thorin wants to know all about it.

Read it under the cut or at AO3! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287660

 The hobbits had this thing called Christmas and Thorin was just discovering how much of a big deal it was. Oh, he wasn’t an ignorant old dwarf, thank you very much, he had some idea of what this Christmas holiday was supposed to be. There were feasts, and celebration, and presents, very similar to the dwarven traditions of Yuletide.

All in all, probably not that much of a big deal. Just harmless winter time fun!

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

It was the middle of November. Thorin was happily bouncing young Frodo on his knee and reading him a children’s story. Only five months since he decided to move into the Shire with his dear Bilbo and Frodo already adored him. The young man was nothing but a toddler, but Thorin was terribly blessed at how quickly he managed to charm Bilbo’s nephew.  Young hobbits weren’t always fond of his rugged looks, and his beard was always raising suspicion around the Shire. Fortunately to him, Thorin was amazing at making different voices for the characters.

“…and then they lived happily ever after.” Thorin finished the book, making the three-year-old clap his little hands in a mismatched rhythm.

That was when Bilbo dropped a heavy box by his feet, startling both dwarf and hobbit. “Good, you’re done! Frodo, darling, guess what we’ll be doing today?!”

The young toddler stared at him with wide eyes. “Dunno?”

Bilbo smiled and opened the cardboard box. “We will be putting on the Christmas decorations!”

Frodo shrieked and hopped of Thorin’s knee, falling to the ground on his chubby knees and palms. He quicky raised back to his feet and dove inside the cardboard box, pawing at all the colored tinsel. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“I thought your Yuletide celebration only happened in the end of December.”

“Yes, Thorin, but we start decorating earlier.” Bilbo said as a matter of fact.

“You start decorating in November, then?” He hummed, wondering why bother decorating before Christmas itself was knocking on their door. Wouldn’t they be tired of the decorations by the end of December, when the holiday was due to happen? He did not mention that, though, because both Frodo and Bilbo were happily scavenging inside the wooden box.

He ought to write that down. Get used to the Shire festivities!

    And the Shire was boiling with celebration all over the place. Bilbo was consistently sending Thorin to the market to buy more and more food, and even though Thorin had no problem with eating a lot or stocking up food, their pantry was starting to cranky under the weight of all the stuffed hams, salted pork meat, gigantic pumpkins, pots and more pots of honey, a lot of bottles filled with red wine, dark ale and blonde beer. There were also huge blocks of hard cheese, and small blocks of blue cheese pilled on top of each other. Not to mention the vegetables, that, for all Thorin knew, would be stale by the second week of December.

“It’s just in case one of the in-laws drop by and we have to make a quick feast.” Bilbo ushered him off whenever Thorin complained.

“A feast is never quick, Bilbo.” Thorin frowned. In the paper Bilbo had just gave him, there was a small list of items to buy. “Why do we need an entire mutton?”

“Oh, I don’t know, why do we need it?” He placed his hands on his waist, tapping his overly large foot on the wooden floor. “Because it is Christmas!”

If the cranking pantry was worrying Thorin – Frodo can very much be standing under one of the wooden planks when they inevitably break down from the excessive weight! Have you considered that, Bilbo?! – he had not been prepared to deal with the market in the beginning of the third week of December. Not even the halls of Morgoth, during the first age, had been as crowded with mad creatures as that market. Thorin was blessed with height, otherwise he would have been swallowed by the crowd of fussy hobbits.

Patiently, Thorin stood by and waited. Everyone around him was yelling, leaning on the counters and trying to get their goodies first than the others. Fussy hobbits, Thorin thought with a frown. He could be the arsehole and use his louder, deeper voice that compared to theirs was like thunder, but he wanted so much to be a good lover to Bilbo, and he wanted to charm his family. He couldn’t be that guy who went to the market to yell at other people. He couldn’t be that guy.

So, he waited patiently in line and bought all the goodies Bilbo had beautifully written down on his note. Thorin always loved his calligraphy, how he added little dots on top of his letters that more looked like small crystals.

    The other thing he learned was that entire feuds were held over not giving a gift to someone during the Christmas week. Not during Christmas day, no, not that. That was too late for hobbits standards. If you actually cared for friends and family, sending presents had to be done till the Christmas eve otherwise you were as good as declaring war on them.

And Bilbo was considering finally declaring war on his cousin, the dreadful Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Is it worth it?” Thorin asked, fixing the golden tinsel that Frodo had ripped from the top of the entrance door. “What is it about the Christmas spirit again?”

“Oh, don’t you even start.” Bilbo tapped his feet. “Every holiday I give her something good. Something made of silver, or perhaps a new embroidered apron. And guess what? The damned woman will still try to abscond with my silverware.”

“Maybe…” Thorin touched his beard. “Maybe you should give her something extremely valuable. You should humble the woman until she is too ashamed and won’t even try to steal anything.”

“Or perhaps I should give her absolute garbage since she will inadvertently pick something else from this very house!”

And Thorin sat back on the armchair, watching as his lover fussed around the house, trying to select whatever piece of trash he could find lying around the house. Frodo appeared a few minutes later, his child-like voice asking what his uncle was looking for. Thorin bent down and picked him up, setting the young hobbit on his knee. “Your uncle is going on a personal vendetta against his cousin Lobelia.”

“What’s vendetta?” Frodo asked.

“Well… it’s when someone does something bad and you decide to do something bed to them as well.” Thorin frowned. Perhaps he shouldn’t be teaching something like that to young Frodo, and shouldn’t be telling the young kid that his uncle was a mean little bastard when he wanted to. “Actually… why don’t we go wrap up the presents and leave your uncle to his own devices?”

Little Frodo happily nodded and followed Thorin to one of the many rooms inside Bag End. Thorin was sure Frodo had quickly forgotten all about ‘vendetta’ when later that week, during the Christmas, he quickly found out just how good the memory and understanding of a three-year-old could be. When Bilbo was, with an overtly sweet smile, delivering his neatly wrapped present to Lobelia, little Frodo asked:

“Is that the vendetta?” While pointing to the colorful present.

“The what?” Lobelia blanched, frowning at the kid.

Bilbo paled. “Now, where did you learn that word?! Little kids really have a fascinating way of learning, don’t they? Frodo, dear, come, let’s get you another cookie in reward for your excellent vocabulary.”  Said Bilbo while hiding the present behind his back and taking Frodo by the hand.

“But what about my gift?!” Lobelia asked, still confused by Frodo’s words but greedily staring at where the package had disappeared.

She would, obviously, receive her package later. Not the collection of old toothpicks Bilbo had smugly wrapped up in a big box, but a bottle of old brandy he received from Lord Elrond himself. Next year, perhaps, he would fool Lobelia and give her what she deserved. But the important part about a vendetta was not letting the victim know about it!

Now… Bilbo asked himself while he quickly wrapped up the bottle, where did Frodo learn that word?! It didn’t take Bilbo two seconds to figure out where he learnt that, or, even better, whom he learned it from.

    Despite Thorin going on and ruining Bilbo’s marvelous plan of fooling Lobelia without technically declaring Christmas war on her, he couldn’t stay mad at the big oaf of a dwarf he had brought into his home. Their first Christmas together, and Bilbo was immensely appreciative of how much Thorin was trying to learn Hobbit customs and blend in with Bilbo’s gigantic family and never-ending family drama. He already loved Frodo, which covered the essentials, but seeing Thorin learning some of the Shire Christmas carols really warmed up his heart.

And, boy, did he sing them in dwarven fashion, all low notes and rumbling voice?

It was nearly morning when Bag End was finally clear of family members. Frodo was asleep, had been asleep for hours now, and Bilbo was putting the trash out. Thorin was smoking outside, and the Sun was making the sky shine in different colours. It was now light enough to see without the aid of a lamp.

Bilbo sat down next to Thorin. “How was your first Christmas experience?”

Thorin let out the smoke and tapped the pipe down, removing the burnt leaves. “You hobbits take it very seriously. It was enjoyable.”

“Even after all the times I sent you to the market?”

“Even after the multiple lines I had to stand by.” Thorin nodded and smirked. “Now, were you consciously sending me away? I thought you were too busy that you weren’t even noticing that.”

Bilbo snickered. “I wanted to make sure we had everything in case anyone would drop by earlier than the Eve, but, in honesty… I like it. Having this domesticity between us, being able to send the mighty King of Erebor whenever I wish to buy, I don’t know, carrots and salted pork.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Thorin… this, this thing… it works, doesn’t it? Do you feel like it works? God, am I rambling? Sometimes I get overexcited.”

“It works.” Thorin said, making Bilbo shut up all at once. He leaned down to kiss Bilbo’s curls, the little braids he himself had put there. “I wasn’t sure I could trade rock and stone for sunny meadows and green hills, but it works.”

Bilbo stared at him. From the greying hair at his temples to the sharp tip of his nose. Wow, Bilbo thought, enamored, what a dwarf! He looked around for a second; in the next weeks the Shire would be snowy and wintery, but so far, it was only December. None of them were too fond of snow.

“Next year, maybe, we should go to Erebor. So you can teach me about your holidays.”

“It involves less fussing about unexpected relatives dropping by and more drinking competitions.” Thorin warned.

Bilbo’s nose twitched. “Then you better have some sugar and grease to help me with all that speculative drinking.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

#tss2020 #tolkien secret santa 2020 #bagginshield #the hobbit fanfic #my fanfics #my art #my writing

[sarah-bae-maas]

Rowaelin AU!

AU! where the valg wars never happened, but Aelin and Rowan would always have met anyway

Masterlist      AO3

***

“Dorian, as nice as this was, you need to leave.” Aelin smirked at the bare body next to hers, admiring the prince.

Dorian reached a hand over, smoothing it down her body and around dangerous places. “Of all the things I could do, why would I do that – Ah! Fuck.”He pulled his hand back, and held it to his chest as it burned. Aelin’s eyes widened, horrified at what she’d done. Before she could apologise for losing control of her magic once again, Dorian huffed and near-fled from the room, slamming the door in his wake. She didn’t even have a chance to apologise to her friend.

She was lucky her room was on the opposite of the castle to her parents, otherwise she’d fear they’d hear her escapades with the prince of Adarlan.

Maybe burning Dorian was a blessing in disguise. She did need to get some sleep – some fancy diplomats from Wendlyn, including some warrior that had been hired to train her, were arriving in the morning. She didn’t know if it would help at all, but she figured it couldn’t hurt. Even at twenty-one, her fire burned in uncontrollable ways. She thought maybe as she aged it might settle down, that somehow she’d magically be able to control it better, but it still flared up at the worst possible times. Like when Dorian tried to touch her. Luckily he was just a bit of fun, or this would be a serious problem.

She sighed, eager for tomorrow but dreading the likely-awful fae that would be her maker for the next few months. She decided that sleep would likely evade her the entire night, so she may as well find something to do with her time.

The halls were silent as she crept through them, her fae senses letting her know what ways to avoid so that she didn’t run into anyone else. Her body, tall and languid, thrived when in her fae form. Her human side was so erased that she’d fooled even the oldest of fae into thinking this was her who she really was.

Although only walking, a bead of sweat started to roll down her back. The air was dry as can be as a sweltering summer rolled in, the earth smelling of dead grass and dust. The back alleys she took to get to her favourite pub forwent pavement and let long-cemented clay guide her feet. The stone homes that lined the alleys were cool to touch, and she let them cool her fingers as she walked to her place.

Shady’s had been there longer than she’d been alive, and had been passed down through the same family like it was a royal crown. Not bustling, but not meagre, it was the perfect place to lose yourself. It also helped that it was smack-bang in the middle of a precinct the wealthy usually avoided. Dorian, for example, would never sully his fine shoes by walking on this dirt. Ha! What prisses. Anyone to scared to walk to Shady’s didn’t deserve it.

A little bell dinged as she entered, but no one looked up at her entrance. She had a hood over her head, or waist-length blonde hair braided back and hidden. Not many people were here at such an hour, only those who really wanted to forget themselves. Aelin ordered a pint and sat at her usual seat, scratching at the table.

Tomorrow will be fine. You can handle some old fae. You can do this! You’ve trained your whole life for this moment!  Even if you can’t get grip on this, you’ll still be a Galathynius. Terrasen is your home. They’d never make you leave.

No matter what she told herself, she still felt butterflies roaring in her stomach. It wasn’t so much that she was nervous to meet her alleged mentor, but what would happen if the bastard couldn’t fix her.

It had been only a month ago that she and Aedion had overheard her parents discussing her fate if they couldn’t get her flames under control. Aelin could hear the love they felt for her in their voices, but it didn’t seem to matter as they considered shipping her off to Wendlyn, alone, until she was better. How could they suggest separating her from her family, from her life? Aelin could admit maybe there was someone in the Whitethorn lot who could teach her, but at what cost? To Aelin, spending potentially years away from those she loved simply wasn’t worth it.

Since then, her parents had pulled her aside and told her they were bringing someone to her, but Aelin knew exactly what that meant. This was her chance, and if she fucked it up, she’d be on the next ship out of there.

“You look awfully sad for someone so pretty. Maybe a drink will cheer you up?”

Aelin looked up at the low voice, surprised to see another fae. Although Terrasen was teeming with her kin, Shady’s wasn’t somewhere they frequented. He was tall, alarmingly so, and built like a castle. His skin was bronze and littered with scars, his dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. He was attractive – in the same way sin was.

“I’ve already got one.” Aelin pointed to the half-empty glass in front of her, her answer making the stranger smirk.

He leant in to speak again, but a male at the next table stopped him. “Give it a rest, Lorcan. She’s not interested, and you’re starting to look pathetic.” His voice was deep, the lilt to it making the butterflies in her stomach rest. He had a cloak on, an emerald so dark it was nearly black, and his hair was a neat and short silver, but slightly longer on the top. His skin was creamy but loved by the sun, and his eyes were a startling green. Although sitting, he clearly had some height behind him too, but unlike his friend he was not a castle; he was a palace. Elegant.

“She can answer for herself, stop being so sour,” the man, Lorcan, said.

Aelin was looking at the sitting man as she answered. “Your friend is right, I’m not interested.” She peeked a glance at him, and he smiled.

“Fair enough. And I’m going to consider that my cue.” Lorcan sauntered off to the corner and up the dingy stairs that led to the few rooms Shady’s hired out – usually by the hour.

Feeling intrigued and full of liquid courage, Aelin decided to sit at the table of the elegant fae. He barely glanced at her as she did. She rested her hand on her fist, squinting at him.

“What brings you to Orynth?” she asked.

“I’ve been to most corners of the world, yet Terrasen remained unexplored. The capital seemed like a good place to start.” He took a deep gulp of his drink, his fingers dotted with tattoos written in the old fae language.

Aelin, being a pervert, decided to breath deep, wanting to inhale the scent of the man in front of her. She frowned, the pine and snow from Terrasen too strong to get a read on him, despite winter being long gone.

“Who is your companion?”

“The brute that just left?” Finally, a small smile on those lips. “He’s like a brother. A very annoying, overprotective brother that won’t stop hitting on any woman with a pulse. I don’t imagine you came here to be seduced.”

“It’s not usually on my list of weekday activities. There are plenty of reasons I come here, although I’ll admit love isn’t one of them.”

A laughed lowly, the sound like the rumble of a dragon before it takes flight. “You must be young, talking about love as if it’s real.”

“You must be either old or bitter to believe it’s not. Or just very unlucky.” Must be bitter, there’s no way a male that looked like this had trouble finding women to warm his bed.

“Hm. Maybe.” His drink was empty, but he didn’t move from the table. “You been here your whole life?”

“I’ve been to every country on this damned continent, but this is home, always will be. I have no desire to leave. You make me think you’ve never been anywhere that’s made you want to stay.” She didn’t know what made her say it, but she could somehow feel the truth in her words. He looked at her, his eyes saying how do you know me so well, yet not at all.

“Be careful, soon you’ll know my most intimate secrets,” he playfully warned, a spark lighting his eyes.

“How deep can I go before you’ll stop me?”

“I don’t know, shall we see?”

Aelin grinned at the challenge. “Parents?”

“Dead since I was a child. Next.”

“No siblings then.”

“Took them nearly a thousand years just to have me. You?”

“Destroyed my mother’s uterus. What’s your profession?”

“Soldier, mostly blacksmith. If I were to guess, I’d say you were a handmaiden.”

“Pianist. I play every week at the grand theatre, if I had my way it would be every day. Favourite place you’ve been?”

“To war.”

“How incredibly savage.” She leant closer to him. “There hasn’t been a war in Terrasen for hundreds of years, won’t you get bored being here?”

“Lorcan has forced me to rest, said it’s best for my mental state; I couldn’t disagree more.”

“Do you have a second form?”

“Hawk.”

“What does it feel like to fly?”

He paused, considering his answer. His head tilted to the side, a strand of hair falling onto his face. Aelin resisted the urge to push it back. “Freedom, in its purest form. In the sky, there is everything and nothing all at once. No one to answer to but the wind.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Unfortunately.” He looked at her keenly. “You ever have your heart broken, since you’re such the optimist?”

“I’ve never cared for someone enough to have them hurt me.”

“You’ve been with a human tonight; I can still smell him on you.” From any other mouth, the words would have made her cringe, and then run off to tell Elide so they could laugh together. Instead, they sent a shiver down her spine. Dorian had been forgotten the moment she’d laid eyes on the male in front of her.  

“Something tells me you don’t care.”

____

He couldn’t take her to his room since Lorcan was there, so he held her against a wall in a closet. His hands were under her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him, setting her alight. It took every spare thought to keep her fire under control as he kissed her, his tongue an artist as it painted her lips, neck, chest. She moaned as one of his hands wandered up the back of her shirt, her cloak long since dropped to the floor with his.

“You know this place better than me,” he said between kisses. “How likely are we to get caught?”

Aelin growled in response, summoning him closer. His shirt, so pristine for a blacksmith, was in her way. In her haste and forgetting her own strength, she tore it in two, leaving it in shreds in the floor. It only spurred him on, and he turned them around so he could sit her on a bench.

The sex wasn’t graceful, but by the Gods was it good. He had her clothes off in minutes, and she had never felt so aroused in her life. It was like every nerve she had was being played by his magic; like she was the piano and he was the master musician. It was quick, his tempo perfect to hit the exact spot it needed to every time, but he also had a stamina unseen in the human boys she had been with. He was a man; a full-blooded fae male that was biologically engineered to make her moan so hard she forgot her own name. At one point, when the tips of her hair had started to curl with flames, she nearly shoved him away mid-thrust. But as he looked at her fire unfazed, he simply doused them with a pinch of his own magic. Knowing she could truly let loose, she gave all that she had to him.

And by the Gods it was the best she’d ever had.

They were panting on the floor of a broom closet, him big enough that he had to prop his knees up. She was curled into his side, leaving thank you kisses alongside his body. He was puffed, and let out an airy laugh. “You should stop, or I’ll have to take you again.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to go for round, what was it? Six?” To let him know, if it wasn’t already obvious, that she was joking, she left an open mouth kiss to each of his abs. He was the best thing she had ever tasted.

Aelin looked up to the window the size of a plate and groaned. The sky was starting to lighten, and soon the palace would be awake and she’d have to meet the Wendlyn convoy sent by the Whitethorns. “But you’re right. I have to go.”

She stood up, and trying not to step on him, redressed. He eventually did the same, but not after admiring her body greedily.

“Last question, will I see you again?” she asked, not hopeful. Shady’s attracted transients.

“I’m staying here for the next week at the least. Do with that what you will.”

She grinned, kissing him once more before running away from the pub, drunker than any alcohol could make her. It wasn’t until she was back in her room that she remembered she hadn’t asked him the most important question of all – his name.

___

“Elide, I’m serious. It was mind blowing. Like, I could have set that building on literal fire. I nearly did at one stage!” Aelin whispered furiously as she sped-walked to the main hall. She was late, as per usual, but at least she had Elide at her side. It wouldn’t be so awkward with her there.

“Please, pleasestop talking.” And Aedion was there too, and in genuine pain from their conversation.

“Where can I get a man like that? You mentioned he had a brother? I’ll pay you to take me with you tonight.”

“Won’t it seem desperate if I go to find him less than a day after I left him? And I think that’s prostitution.”

“Aelin I do so much for you. The least you can do in return is help me get dicked down to the nth degree.”

“I’m going to impale myself on my sword.”

“Shut up, Aedion!”Elide and Aelin said simultaneously, before giggling to themselves.

She nearly tripped on her gown, the green organza ruffles on her dress a pain in the ass to walk in. She could also feel her crown starting to tip off her head, but Elide quickly grabbed it and pinned it back before it could. The sight of the three of them running towards the hall doors made the sentries guarding it laugh as they put their fingers to their lips, silently shushing them.

“They’re all in there, Princess, they’re just waiting for you.”

Aelin put a fake smile on her face, dreading who she’d find waiting behind that door. She stood herself in front of it, Elide to her right and Aedion to her left. She smoothed down the front of her dress, making sure everything was perfect to give the best, first royal impression she could. She had to impress the old fae that was to train her, lest she be sent to Wendlyn. Her hair was fine, her crown straight. Her dress was fitted in all the right areas but flared out to give the impression of modesty. Her favourite jewels were on, and her shoes – oh fuck, she’d forgotten to put her shoes on.

The sentries opened the door, not giving her a chance to panic.

“Introducing, the crown princess Aelin accompanied by her destined bloodsworn, Prince Aedion Ashryver, and handmaiden Lady Elide Lochan.” The booming voice welcomed her as she walked through the double doors, the people in the room dropping to their knees to meet her. The walls were lined with familiar and unfamiliar faces. All but her parents, sitting on their thrones, and one other stayed standing. A male, tall with silver hair, eyes the colour of evergreens. He was standing on the steps leading to the thrones, clad in armour and navy and black fabrics, clothing fine enough for a king.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Princess Aelin, might I please introduce Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, your new mentor.”

#rowaelin #elorcan #fanfic #AU! #sjm #throne of glass #kingdom of ash