#correction that friendship was not worth it *OTHERWISE i am glad we are not friends anymore

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal /Betrothal AU: Take Two

So here is the second part of the betrothal AU that I decided to name "A Failed Betrothal. This takes place before Part 1 which in hindsight should have been done first. Part 2 got too long so I cut it and started Part 3. I have no idea and nothing planned on how long this will go. Hope you enjoy ❤.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)

PART 2

Marinette also wasn't having a good day or a good week.

Lila Rossi had been up to her usual tricks. You know, spewing lies from her mouth. How she met these awesome celebrities during this trip and they worship the ground she walks on for her amazing and humbling help. There were stories of these charities, trips and galas that she had been to or was invited to. She has problems with her wrists and can't do simple stuff like carry her own bag or do her homework. She has tinnitus in her ears so she needs to sit in the front where the only seat available would be next to Adrien.

And for the finale.

The desert after feeding the class a banquet of lies.

"Mari...nette..has been bullying me, she...told..me not to tell anyone..*sobs*..that she would kill me if I did.."

Lila dramatically gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Turning on the waterworks for a more dramatic effect. They all ate it up, jumping on the ‘let’s hate Marinette, a bad person’ train.

"She is going to kill me now and I am so scared." That snake managed to snuck an evil smirk past her glaring, oblivious classmates.

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Marinette, at this point of her life, had frankly given up caring for them due to the class's lack of brain cells and Agreste's spineless 'High Road' Approach.

For Kwami's sake, she went through a brutal torture that was training in some jungle temple in Asia before Sabine Cheng, former mercenary/assassin, kidnapped her (Little Marinette took a risk. She ran away and followed her around until Sabine begrudgingly accepted that she was now the 6- year-old girl's mother because screw it, Tom said he wanted children.) to raise/train as her own while she settled down with a baker whose mother may or may not have ties with the Mafia and other illegal activities.

(Mother-daughter bonding days became much more fun once she had Guardianship of the Miraculous. Sabine was ,at first, furious at Master Fu for dumping everything on the girl and losing his memories before swearing to help protect the jewels. Adopted or not, Marinette is her daughter and no one should let a child, even one with training, fight a war. A good thing to come out of her reveal was that her mother was a great tiger to have as back-up. But now, her training regime had become harder and challenging.)

The point was that Lila Rossi would be dead and body missing since that first time she threatened Marinette in the bathroom. The Italian was in perfect health despite what she claims otherwise, because Marinette didn’t want to be the person she was raised to be and also she didn’t want to disappoint Tikki, she was fond of the little red kwami. But sometimes, she just wanted to give into the urge to kill.

She had met and dealt with unsavory characters of all types and she can safely say that Lila Rossi was a manipulator that thrives on attention and like a parasite, latches herself onto the fame of others. None of the unsavory people she had met get under her skin like Rossi had.

Marinette had enough self-preservation to drop the nice girl act and sometimes let the dragon underneath to surface. She stopped doing last-minute favors and giving away free stuff which Lila uses to her full advantage to further destroy her relationships with her ‘friends’. It was better than sticking her neck out for classmates that were no longer worth her time. Attempts to expose Lila had backfired due to the denial they are in, believing the liar to be a sweet, nice girl living the high life.

Adrien with his rose-tinted glasses firmly stuck to his eyes was not happy at all with her decision. That may also have to do where she suggested he shove his advice after he tried to reason her to take the high road for defending herself for the umpteenth time. She felt like the biggest idiot to ever have a crush on him. Every time, Rossi blames Marinette for a problem, he would shoot disappointed looks in her direction.

Alya being Lila's biggest guard dog tore into Marinette for her newfound 'bad' behaviour. The rest of Lila's supporters backed her up with "How could you do that to Lila","I can't believe you changed." Nearly all her so-call friends had turned their backs and lost all common sense to the Italian's manipulations.

(Alya was supposed to be her best friend, aren’t you supposed to listen to your ‘bestie’ over a complete stranger)

The designer took it all with a bored expression on her face, used to the lecturing which was a waste of time because her behavior isn't going to change, no matter what, Lie-la will keep up the act of being the bully's (*cough*Marinette*cough*) victim.

Her heart that cracks the tiniest bit at the accusations. A small part of her, she admits, is hurt that they think so low of her.Was she really that worthless to them? All those times and efforts helping them out on last-minute favors and giving them free treats. Were they not enough to earn their friendship? Their trust or at the very least, a benefit of doubt?

The only ones who didn’t join the berating to 'correct' the raven-haired girl’s attitude were Chloe (who had proven herself to have changed after the miracle queen incident and Lila stole the spotlight and Sabrina. There were a lot of apologizes, gifts and ‘making up to do’) Alix (she came to her senses when the supposed bullying started) and Nathaniel (Lila blatantly claimed to be the artist for the Ladybug comic to his face).

“Girl, Marinette, are you even listening to me?”Alya demanded.

“Maybe. Did you say anything that doesn’t have to do with Lila or how I did her wrong or how I am no longer the person you knew?”

Marinette knew that being sarcastic would backfire but nothing she does or says will change what they think of her. One word from Lila and they will turn back on her. As much as she hates to admit it, Lila’s threat has fallen through and she was alone. Mostly.

She still had Chloe, Nathaniel, Alix, Luka and Kagami as friends. The trust-worthy and loyal kind.

“Girl,” Alya says in a disappointed tone, shaking her head,“when I look at you, I don’t see that girl who stood up to Chloe the bully-”, Chloe snorted, she had changed but they were too blind and prejudiced against her to notice her efforts, “-Picking on Lila, threatening and harassing her. This isn’t you and you know it. Just get over your jealousy on Lila being close to Adrien and apologize to her.”

If Alya had talked to her in the past 12 months other than demanding things that took away her time or anything relating to Lila, she would know that her infatuation had turned into annoyance.

Marinette sighed, too tired of this routine, tired of trying to knock heads so the brain cells can work again. Apologizing would mean that Lila had won. She was petty and stubborn enough to allow that to happen. Lila said she will take the class and Adrien. Fine, she can have them but Marinette Dupain-Cheng will not admit defeat. Bigger men had fallen to the ravenette for lesser offences. A year has passed since the expulsion and the class still hasn't regained common senses, so they can deal with the consequences after the inevitable downfall of Lila and Marinette will be there to see them lay in the grave they dug.

Steeling herself for the pain that will come with the execution of her plan,

“What if I don’t. I won’t apologize to her because I have not done anything to her or even interacted with her. If I apologize, it would be insincere and a lie. And I hate liars.” The former assassin said evenly.

“Lila is not a liar. I don’t know why you are like this.” Alya said, frustrated.

Marinette knew there would be a small chance of an akuma with Gabriel Agreste having an important meeting to attend on this day that would last for the next hour. This was the small window of opportunity to start the plan and also further confirm the identity of Hawkmoth. Killing two birds with one stone.

“Alya, this has always been me, you just never took the time to get to really know the real me.”, she replied, the last part with an icy tone.

“Well-... I- ..You-, fine, then if you can’t say those simple three words, we can’t be friends. I clearly don’t know what a selfish bitch you are. God, I can’t believe I wanted to be best friends with you. You are now replaced by Lila because unlike you, she is genuinely nice and selfless.” Alya declared. The rest of Lila’s supporters murmured in agreement.

Phase 1, complete. Lure the Lie-la into a false sense of security by making her think she won.

Marinette tried not to show how hurt she was, to be replaced by the scheming bitch. But at the same time she felt relieved, she no longer had to walk on eggshells in fear of losing the friendships of people she used to care about. It felt final as she maintained her stoic expression, hoping they didn't notice the glassy sheen her eyes had.

“Then, it is official. We are no longer friends.”

They haven’t been friends for a long time.

Mme. Bustier finally walked into the classroom to start the afternoon classes, signalling the end of the conversation. After class, Marinette resolves to inform them that she was resigning as class president which she was sure the class will be glad for. She was right.

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Ladybug was, as the Americans say, pissed at Hawkmoth which was nothing new. He had sent out another akuma just as Marinette was back home and trying to relax after the stressful day. The akuma was not any of her ex-friends which she wasn’t sure to be thankful for or not.

Louise Martin was a boy about Luka’s age and mad at his friends who had blamed their fifth loss-in-a-row on him despite the fact that it was his skills that were getting them any progress. They were playing one of those recently released 5V5 skills and strategy battle games. (League of Legends or Mobile Legends. Take your pick, I am going with the latter)

He was akumatized into Hayakuma as proof of Hawkmoth’s lack of creativity. Hayakuma was a bleached out version of Louise’s chosen hero avatar, Hayabusa whose outfit was basically what the media portrays ninjas to look like with some samurai aspects.

Unfortunately, he also had the hero’s ultimate special powers which were making four shadow copies of himself and being able to switch positions with them. Thanks to Rattlesnake’s Second Chance, they know that he can only make a switch once every two minute. Hayakuma also wields a sword, showing off his skills.

Just lovely.

Hydra and Ladybug were the only ones able to counter his attacks with Hydra’s sword and Ladybug’s summoned one. (Let’s go with that headcanon(?)/trope that she can summon weapons for plot convenience and the others can too but just don’t have enough practise yet.)

The others managed to dodge and shield themselves from Hayakuma’s really sharp sword.

The shadows themselves were annoying as they would distract or hinder the miraculous users by grabbing them by their shadows and making them unable to move. Until Bunnix had the brilliant idea of shadow boxing which gave the heroes gain more even ground.

With how strong and handful the akuma was, it was code ‘all hands on deck’. Ladybug, Stinger, Rattlesnake, Hydra, Bunnix, Trickster. Well, nearly every hand. Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was busy with the bakery. Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen or very late which had been the norm for the last year ever since Ladybug wanted to form a new miraculous team consisting of permanent heroes.

(He didn’t show up for the first few months because the first permanent member was Ladybug’s mother who did not like his attitude towards her daughter. He ran away with his tail between his legs once he found out how she was related to Ladybug. His face when he realized it, was something Marinette will cherish forever)

At least when Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was around, he would not dare act out of line. When she is gone however, he is back to his old ways.

After saving one of Louise’s teammates from Hayakuma’s sword, they gathered the rest of the team and hid them someplace safe. Using Trickster’s illusions to trick all the shadows and the original to one place, the heroes were going to surround and ambush them and get the akumatized item. The plan would have been a success if it weren’t for Chat Noir hugging Ladybug from behind, making her miss her cue.

“Hey~ Bugaboo~ Did you miss me~? Your Chaton~?”

Thwack! Smack!

Chat Noir was on the rooftop, groaning pitifully in pain. Especially his crotch area. Ladybug glared at him and looked to the ambush point to see the illusions had disappeared and everyone else gone from their hiding place.

She sighed and turned on the comms, (Thank you, kwamis)

“Sting, did you venomed the akuma?”

“No, he escaped before I could. What happened, LB?”

“A certain cat got me delayed. What’s the status update?”

“Hydra is holding him off and Bunnix found that an umbrella is a good substitute for a sword. The rest of us are keeping track of the shadows. They split up but none of them are getting near where we hid the targets.”

“Where are you? I will meet you later with back-up.”

“Near Notre Dame and tell Mama Tigress I said hi.”

“Tell her yourself.”

She looked down at Chat No-, no he is not worthy of being a hero anymore with the amount of times he had derailed and hijacked the plans to defeat the akumas just so he can ‘earn’ Ladybug’s heart.

She looked down at Adrien Agreste, who was sitting and sulking like a child that was unfairly punished. (Once she got over her crush and started looking at the right things that she managed to piece together her ‘partner’s’ identity by accident. Tikki’s confirmation sealed the deal.)

“Chat Noir, this partnership of ours,” she said, gesturing to the two of them, “ is going to change tonight. Meet me at the ‘spot’ at 11 sharp. Now, go home.”

He left with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes at her words. She felt a little bad about the subtle manipulation but with the way things were now, it can’t go on. He was hindering more than helping and the people of Paris that weren’t shipping ‘Ladynoir’ saw that.

As she jumped towards Notre Dame, she called the bakery with her yoyo.

“Mama, are you free now? I need a little help with the akuma and can you bring the horse miraculous.”

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Chat Noir waited excitedly at what they both dubbed at their ‘spot’, in the good old days when it was just the two of them. Maybe Ladybug was finally open to the idea of dating. Or maybe she must have seen what a great hero he is and was going to get rid of the team. Or realized that having her mother on her team was a bad idea. Parents are the worst and they both can be two rebellious teenagers in love. Like Romeo and Juliet. So romantic~.

He was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t hear his lady land.

“Chat Noir.” Startled, he nearly fell off the roof. No, don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Ladybug.

“Yes, Bugaboo.” Hoping she didn’t know that he was very distracted. His attention will always be hers 100%.

“Don’t call me Bugaboo. Tikki wants to talk to Plagg about Kwami stuff. So you go over and hide behind that chimney. Then, we can talk about why I told you to be here.” Adrien frowned and then smiled. His lady must be very embarrassed about her mistake that must be why she is taking her time. He tried listening to what they were saying but the kwamis were talking in their special Guardian Language. Was it him or did Tikki’s voice sound more like his lady’s voice?

Whizz!

Adrien was tied up with Ladybug’s yoyo. “M’Lady? Bugaboo!? LADYBUG! WHAT IS GOING ON?!! PLAGG-”

Ladybug cut in, “Adrien Agreste, you have been slack in your hero duty and choosing your own feelings over supporting your partner, me, the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous and current Grand Guardian, in the efforts to defeat the enemy of Paris, Hawkmoth. Due to those reasons, you are no longer worthy to be the Holder of the Black Cat Miraculous” in one swift motion, she took the ring off his finger, “As such you are hereby revoked of Plagg’s Ring.”

“NO, YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I LOVE YOU AND I KNOW YOU LOVE ME BACK. WE ARE SOULMATES, WE ARE MEANT TO BE-”

Adrien went slack at Lady Tigress’s pinch on his pressure point.

“I don’t what you ever saw in the boy.”

“I don’t know either. I think I dodged a bullet here. Can you carry him back to his home? I think I have dealt with enough of him tonight.” Ladybug muttered, as she erased Adrien’s memories of being Chat Noir.

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe.

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(Part 3)

#maridami #maribat #damian x marinette #mlb x dc #Betrothal AU: Take 2 #A Failed Betrothal #sorry. No Damian this chapter #there is salt #Alya salt #Adrien Salt #Lila salt #class salt #I don't know if it is mild or not #Marinette is an assassin

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 8

Word Count: 1879

Warning: trigger - hunting, and demeaning verbal abuse.

A/N thanks again to my beautiful @sillyrabbit81 for your editing and @amberangel112 for your encouragement.

Chapter 8

Henry could not understand why Jessie was still considering going out with this jerk. He huffed at Joe’s words and was pleasantly surprised at Tom’s reaction. Pleased to have someone in his corner, he nuzzled into the young man’s arms. It felt nice, an odd feeling of loss and regret pulled at his soul. He hadn’t seen his nephew in five years, he would be fifteen years old now four years younger than Tom. Memories of their last time together flooded his mind, the feel of his hands running through his fur. Even then he had refused to change, sadly his nephew had never known him in Human form.

The packhouse was large, made of local stone it would be considered menacing to outsiders. But for those invited in, it was a house filled with love. They had found Henry and his nephew Adam just outside their forest line, half-starved, dehydrated and desperate for care. The pack doctor had tended to Henry whilst one of the pack's mothers had shared her milk with the little pup. Adam had captured the mother’s heart and at Henry’s approval had adopted him into the pack. Henry had grieved the loss of his only kin but been so grateful to them. He knew he could not look after the little one, not with his heartbroken in pieces.

Over the next ten years, he had come and gone from the house checking up on Adam, watched as he grew strong, not only physically, but emotionally he had developed into a beautiful soul. Their last time together they had sat just like he was now with Tom. He had curled up next to Adam, his head in his lap, Adams fingers running through his fur. “I wish you could change for me Uncle, I see all the other dads and sons playing together and I love the idea that when I change next year we can run together. Then I can finally talk to you and hear your voice back. But I want to know what you look like, to be able to hug you like I see that others hug their dads.” His face had added to Henry’s grief looking so heartbroken and longingly at him. He had tried at that moment, had attempted to honour his request but his human side was so lost, hidden in pain. He had left the house that day, knowing even if it broke his heart, he needed to let his nephew grow with his new pack and not be held back by him.

Now nestled against Tom he regretted that decision. He heard a chuckle soft and happy. “Well look at you two. I would never have guessed Wolfy could be so comfortable with another human. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone except with me. What’s your secret Tom?” Her bright eyes landed on Tom who had continued to scratch behind Henry’s ears.

“I don’t know Miss Jessie, but I have always loved wolves, well any kind of animal really but especially wolves.”

She seemed thoughtful as she eyed them both making Henry wonder what she had planned. “Tom, are you free tonight? I have a date and I really don’t want to leave Wolfy alone again.” Henry felt Tom stiffen. Wondering what was wrong with the request, he moved his head to look up at the boy.

A brief look of disapproval flashed in his eyes before they softened as he looked down and saw Henry watching him. “Yes, Miss Jessie. I would love to spend more time with this beautiful boy.” Internally he chuckled at Tom’s words, if only he knew he was twelve years older than him.

That afternoon Henry, Jessie and Tom spent out in the garden. Tom seemed to fit beautifully into their friendship group kneeling beside Jessie as they planted new flowers and shrubs where they had pulled up the weeds. Together, Henry dug the holes, Tom placed the plants and held them in place whilst Jessie filled the soil around them. Henry enjoyed hearing the light conversation between his Mate and his new friend until it became heavier. “So, Tom, when did you begin to love wolves? I know your father traps them, so I’m interested as to why you don’t follow his belief.”

Tom continued to work, as a gentle hum was heard working up from his throat. “I know why Dad does it, although I don’t think he is correct. He blames the wolves for his loss of cattle, but I haven’t seen that many around. The wild dogs are more to blame but he won't listen. They have a group that meet purely to discuss the wolf problem, but in my whole life, the only large group I have seen was back when I was four. It’s the first and last time Dad allowed me to come to a hunting party. Mom was horrified that he was taking me, but I wanted so much to be with Dad, and he wanted me to be just like him.”

Henry shuddered as the boy spoke as if by some force of nature, he knew that he was about to hear what had happened that day. He also sensed the grief radiating off the boy, wanting to calm him he pushed his body into Tom’s side. Nuzzling his head as if to say, “It's ok, I’m here for you.” Tom let out a heavy chuckle as if he had heard Henry’s voice.

He sat back looking down at Henry as he spoke, “Thanks Wolfy, you would think that I would not remember something that happened that long ago, but it's imprinted in my mind. They had been tracking a pack that had only just entered the area, convinced the rest of the ranchers that they were a risk to our lively hood, that we couldn’t let them nest here. So, the best of their marksman left, when we found them all, sitting around a tree, curled up sleeping, all I wanted to do was go play with the cuddly animals. Dad kept pulling me back holding me still and quiet. I didn’t understand until the loud bangs began.”

Tom’s voice wobbled at this point and Jessie who had been silent up till this time also came closer. She pulled him into her side, her arm encasing his thin body as his shoulders began to shake. “I started screaming as I saw a single wolf with a baby on its back running away, Dad aimed for it but I managed to push the barrel up making him miss. I got the thrashing of my life that night. I couldn’t sit for a week, but it was worth it. I was never allowed to come again after that, not that I wanted to. It took a while, but Dad eventually began to trust me enough to check the traps. I am glad too because it meant I could help this fella.”

Jessie held the boy as his sobs subsided. Henry was trying to hold his anger in, these were the people who had destroyed his family. And yet this one boy had not only saved him once but twice, his gratitude was the only thing stopping him from wanting to go rip the throats out of the group. Ignorance and fear were the driving forces that ended his family, if only they knew the wolves would only ever take a sick animal, and sometimes the young, never the strength of the herd. They would never kill without need. But the wild dogs he had seen were giving us a bad name.

Jessie's voice interrupted his thoughts, the softness not hiding the grief in her own. “Was that near here Tom?” How did Jessie know?

“Yes, Miss Jessie, by the tall tree in the middle of the forest.”

She silently picked up the tools, both animal and human watching her, wondering what she was thinking. Sighing she stood up, “Come, it’s getting dark and I need to get ready for this date.” She walked silently back into the house. The boy and the wolf looked at each other before both followed.

Jessie fixed dinner for Tom and Henry then left to dress, leaving the pair to their own devices. Tom seemed quiet after revealing his early childhood trauma and Henry was eager to help calm the boy. After eating, he plodded into the living room, jumped up on the couch and yipped in Tom’s direction. Chuckling, Tom responded, “You want to watch some TV boy?” Nuzzling the remote, he yipped eagerly hoping to distract the boy from his thoughts.

Tom settled next to him and picked up the remote, they settled on watching a rerun of M.A.S.H before they both heard the clicking of heels and the rapping of knuckles on the front door. Open-mouthed both Henry and Tom sat dumbstruck as Jessie walked down the stairs in a light yellow sundress her dark hair flowing softly twisted into waves. “Wow Miss Jessie, you look amazing” got in first before Henry followed with his eager Yip. Giggling Jessie smiled softly at them both, “Ok I won't be out late, but even so, don’t get up to any mischief”

This caused both Henry and Tom to laugh, one sounding more like a series of yips. The door opened and closed and Jessie was gone. Together the two sat, watched movies and shared some popcorn that Tom had found in the pantry. Just as the end of a Witcher episode finished they heard yelling coming from outside. “I don’t give a dam Boyd, you had no right to hit that poor man, It was an accident.” The front door opened as Jessie stormed inside, the front of her dress had a brown stain down the side of her skirt.

Next Boyd came crashing into the room his face red as he reached out to grab Jessie's arm, this caused Henry to jump into action his snarl reaching the ears of the big man before he saw the wolf racing towards him. Jumping back almost stumbling over the kitchen chair Boyd’s face grew hotter, “Keep that mutt controlled Jessie otherwise I’ll control him for you with my shot Gun.”

The air went still as Henry felt Jessies and Tom's hands on him, “That is enough Boyd Hatfield, you are no longer welcome in this home. Get. Out!” Surprise filled Boyd’s face as he not only recognised Tom but registered his marching orders. Menace replaced the look of surprise, “Listen here little girl, you better watch that attitude of yours. I’ll allow you to cool off but we are not finished talking, and if you value the life of that mutt you will do as your told.” Punctuating the statement with a nod of his head he turned and strolled out the door.

Heart pounding he turned looking up at Jessie who seemed to have lost her speech, her face pale and her hands shaking. Tom moved swiftly pulling her into his arms as she began to cry, frustrated that it wasn’t his arms holding her, Henry pushed his body against her to show he was there, but inside he was furious. That man had threatened not just himself but Jessie, but he had to focus on her right now, she was more important no matter how much he wanted to go after him.

Chapter 9

#the veterinarian and the werewolf #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #werewolf

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Scythes And Stories - Chapter 6 - Twists Of Fate

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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“So you’re telling me that… you are the escaped princess of Solis?” Alastair said slowly, trying to parse out the truth of the words. Ariadne nodded. “And that this is the infamous assassin, the Lady of Death?” Thomas continued, cutting his gaze towards Anna. “I’m flattered that you’ve heard of me, all the way here in Luna.” Anna chimed in. She was currently sprawled across the couch of the boat’s hold, playing with a bone dagger. “Of course we’ve heard of you. You’re either more stupid than you look, or truly ignorant of how much you’ve been employed by the Luna Council.” Alastair smirked, clearly reveling in Anna’s widened eyes and shocked expression. “I’m going to continue this discussion, because obviously these two nitwits wouldn’t bother too.” Cordelia interjected, grinning in response to Alastair’s glare. “If I am correct in my assumptions, you are Lucie Herondale.” she said, gesturing towards Lucie. “That is correct.” Lucie said, mock-curtseying. “So you must be the mysterious and handsome stranger she eloped with.” Cordelia finished, raising her eyebrows at Matthew. “That would be the truth. I am so very pleased that the general knowledge of me is my dashingness.” Matthew said, tipping his hat. “Ignore him.” Lucie stage whispered. “His ego’s gone to his head a bit of late.”

“Well. This is certainly news to me. Everyone thinks you are dead, Princess, and nobody knows the whereabouts of you, my lady.” Thomas said, standing from his seat. “I do wonder what casualties shall befall me if my husband and I decide to give you shelter.”

“Oh I swear we’re nothing but the utmost fun.” Anna said with a smile as sharp as swords. “I can vouch for her!” Matthew chimed in, mischief in his eyes. Ariadne and Lucie sighed in unison as Cordelia snickered. “Yes but they don’t trust either of you, so shut up.” Lucie said, laughing. “All we ask for is shelter for a bit. The world outside is quite chaotic and it would be good to take a breath.” Ariadne said, eyes pleading. “We will take you in.” Thomas finally agreed. “Only if you promise to participate in our drinks night.” James said, mock seriousness in his voice. “You’ll have a far harder time convincing those two to stay away now that you’ve mentioned it.” Ariadne said, gesturing towards Matthew and Anna. “Now, if you wish it, we will retire to our chambers and cause you no more trouble.”

“Is there anything else we can get you while you stay here?” Thomas asked them as they strolled through the city streets. The brick roads were baked in the heat, worn by the feet of a thousand steps. Spices laced the air - nutmeg, basil, and fresh fruit. Thomas had quite quickly fallen into the role of gracious host as Alastair and Anna bantered and the others chattered. “Not unless you can bring back my long lost brother from the abyss.” Anna answered, and silence fell. Cordelia turned to Anna however, brows furrowed. “What does your brother look like?” She inquired, concentration deepening as she gazed at Anna as if she were a puzzle. “Well, he has purple eyes. And he would be around my age, maybe a bit younger.” Anna answered, clearly baffled. James stopped walking right in the middle of the street as him and Cordelia made eye contact. Thomas and Alastair also exchanged gazes. “Is there anything you four would like to share, or are you going to continue to communicate telepathically for the rest of the day.” Anna asked, shifting. She was quite unfamiliar with the warm blooming in her chest like a rose, shining and glowing like a weapon fresh off the forge. It was hope, hope that maybe she wasn’t crazy for the first time in her life.

Shaking herself, Cordelia turned to Anna. “Unless there’s a large amount of purple-eyed teenage fugitives on the run for our kingdom…”

“We have your brother. He arrived just a few days before you. Shivering and sweating and grinning like a banshee. He also claimed to have murdered the king of Solis. On that precedent alone, we allowed him to stay. He’s in his quarters now.”

Anna froze. She could feel the frost of shock spreading slowly over her skin as she struggled to form words. After all these years, all this time, she found him. Her brother with his love of science and the rare, genuine smile that always summoned a smile from her in return. A warm hand slipped into hers. Turning her head, Anna’s eyes met Ariadne’s. The silent encouragement in Ariadne’s eyes nearly brought Anna to tears. “May I- May I see him?” Anna asked tentatively, afraid some cruel god would snatch him away before she could see him. “Of course you can.” Thomas said, understanding in his tone. “Just this way. We’ll arrive back at the castle in approximately 15 minutes. From there, I’ll give you a guide to his rooms.”

“Thank you so much.” Anna whispered. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“None needed, Lady of Death. Everyone deserves loved ones to hold close. Sadly, sometimes the world has other plans. We’re just glad you made your way back to the hearth.” Alastair said quietly, and the others all nodded. From that point on, they were all friends. After all, a friendship forged when you are the version of yourself you hate to show are the strongest friendships of all.

“Mr. Christopher, you’ve a visitor.” the guide called, knocking on the heavy wooden door embossed with a crescent moon. “They may come in.” Came the response from within the room, and Anna’s eyes widened. If there had been any doubt in her mind, none was left now. The decades passed and sands of time could not erase the sound of her brother’s voice from her head. Anna opened the door, and slipped inside, closing it behind her. The boy on the bed looked up, hair messed over his eyes and papers strewn over every possible surface. It didn’t take long for the question in his face turned into confusion, then shock, then wonder. All in the span of just a few moments. “Christopher?” Anna breathed, not daring to take a step forward lest he should evaporate like a mirage. “... Anna? Is that you?” Christopher replied, voice also quiet and strung through with lights of amazement. “Yes, it’s me. It’s Anna!” she replied, joy cracking her face. Christopher’s face morphed again then, and he stood and strode forward. Finally, after so many miles of pain and oceans of blood and battle, they were here. Embracing in a hug and words left unsaid flew, the pair had found each other again.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too! I thought I’d never see you again….”

“I thought the same! They took me away, and I wasn’t able to look for you.”

“That is ok. I doubt you would recognize the me you found anyway.”

“The same could be said of me. It took me years of planning and work, but I finally struck back.”

“And I am more proud of you than I could say. I too have blood on my hands, but I hope that staining them deeper won’t ever be necessary again. If needed, I will fight to make it so.”

Drawing back, Anna examined Christopher and smiled deeply. “You’ve grown into a fine young man. A far throw from the gangly boy I knew. If only mother and father could see you now…” Anna trailed off as a shade of grey permeated the otherwise yellow bright moment. “And you as well.” Christopher said, his wonder saving the memory. “You’re glowing. You look happy. Content.” he added, grinning. “I am… I’ve found a life worth fighting for. But more about me later. We have much catching up to do, dear brother.” Dropping into the armchair by the fireplace, Anna relaxed. Christopher sat on the bed, only succeeding in making his piles of sketches even more messy. “Tell me. What have you been doing these past years we’ve been apart? I am quite certain it’s a grand tale.”

“Now I must confess I’m dying to know how you ended up on the run with the most infamous assassin in five kingdoms.” James said to Ariadne as the two, accompanied by Alastair, Thomas, and Cordelia sat in the royal common room. It was a set of large and comfortable rooms for the royal family to relax and have fun in. Ariadne chuckled quietly, thinking over the chaos of the tale herself. “I couldn’t hardly put it into words for you myself. I had been long since questioning my parents’ actions and the way they behaved around anybody without a large purse or a legitimate heir. I just didn’t know what it was I could do about it. I trained myself, yes. In bladework and poisons and a myriad of other things. But these skills languished in my arsenal, so to speak. I was not allowed to do anything I loved, contained in the palace and all it’s parties.” Ariadne paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The day they forced me into an arranged marriage with somebody I despise was my breaking point. Anna appeared, and it was like she was the escape I was looking for. The escape dressed in black with a dagger, that is.”

Cordelia’s thoughts raced, connecting the dots quickly and smothering her grin. The way Ariadne used Anna’s first name, how her eyes and voice softened at the mention of her, how she would always smile. The quick gazes and hidden laughs. Turning to James, she raised her eyebrows and nearly fell over laughing at his responding smirk. James was observant and had apparently also been quick to notice what she had. “I wish them all the happiness and wishes.” Cordelia vowed, before tuning her ears back into Ariadne’s story.

“So, I agreed to go with her. I set fire to the barracks before we joined up with Matthew and Lucie. Lucie was confined within a loveless marriage, so she was also eager to leave. Anna staged my death, and we set sail. Matthew delivered the note and… here we are.” Ariadne finished, leaninging back in her chair and smiling. “Not the most exciting tale in the books, but it’s my story, so I will cherish it within my heart.”

“On the contrary, I believed that story most riveting.” Cordelia piped up, leaning forward. “There remains only one question.” James said, standing. “Would you and Lady Anna be interested in joining us for dinner tonight? Christopher is also invited, of course”

“We would be most honored to have you.” Thomas added.

“I would be delighted to.” Ariadne smiled. “Anna is I’m sure still talking to Christopher, but when she returns to our chambers, I will extend the invitation.”

“Tell her there will be wine and games!” Alastair called to Ariadne as she exited. “I will tell her. I could never forgive myself and I doubt she would forgive me if she missed out on such an opportunity.”

Once Ariadne had vanished down the hall, the four sat in quiet. “I like her.” Thomas finally said, his voice betraying how deep in thought he was. “I do as well. I’m very glad she was able to find herself a place where she’s truly happy.” Cordelia added. “As much as I’d like to stay and gossip about our new arrivals, I’ve some matters to attend to.” Alastair said, standing. “I’ll come with you.” Thomas replied.

Sighing with a bit too much gusto to be believable, Alastair nodded assent. “I guess we will get these chores done quicker together.” he said, accepting Thomas’s extended hand. “Yes I’m sure that’s why.”

“O do shut up.” Alastair shot back, and soon their voices faded.

“Would you like to take a stroll with me, my fine warrior?” James asked Cordelia, eyes twinkling. “I would love to, James.” Cordelia replied, a small smile twisting her lips. “Well, then, let us go. The winding paths of the park await us.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Ariadne said as she flopped onto the bed of their quarters. Matthew and Lucie had been assigned a door across the hall. “Life does bring us much surprise.” Anna shot back, kicking off her boots. “Did you and Christopher have a pleasing chat?” Ariadne ventured cautiously. “We most certainly did.” Anna replied, slipping back into that soft smile. “He’s grown up so much, Ariadne. So much. And it hurts and heals my heart simultaneously to see it.” Anna said, much quieter this time. “I know you grieve for memories lost, and I understand it. It is right to feel pain, right to grieve. Just make sure you’re not missing out on a chance to make new memories while grieving the past.” Ariadne said, once again gently holding Anna’s hand. “What did I do to deserve you?” Anna asked. “You set me free.” Ariadne answered, and Anna grinned. “And I am very glad I did. Now, what’s this dinner party you mentioned?”

“Oh yes! We are invited to dinner with Cordelia, James, Thomas, and Alastair. Christopher will also be there I believe. Alastair requests I tell you that there will be wine and games.”

‘Well in that case, I’m in.” Anna said jokingly, and Ariadne laughed again, a musical sound to Anna’s ears. “In that case, I will see you in about a half-hour at the party.” Standing, Anna kissed Ariadne softly before breaking apart and bolting for the showers. Sighing and filled with happy butterflies, Ariadne also stood and began to change. “It’s the beginning of a new age. And I’ll be damned if I keep wearing the shackles I just escaped.”

“To new friends, and old. To shining futures and pasts laid to rest in unmarked graves. This is now, and it’s for living and love. I give thanks for the wondrous new souls we’ve met, and the tales they brought with them.” Thomas toasted, raising his champagne elegantly. Everybody else raised their glasses in silent succession, toasting to everything Thomas mentioned and more. And then, the party began. It was in the private royal dining room, and it came with a ballroom. Thomas and Alastair had invited some other close friends and family, and Cordelia and James had done the same. All had been instructed on the situation, and planned to be discreet. A large number of suits and dresses had been delivered to Anna, Ariadne, Matthew, and Lucie, along with a note saying they could choose any one of the options. The rooms were full of life, shining and glittering and shifting. Champagne sparkled and fragrant scents of roasted meats and delicate creamed desserts rose up. Lively violin music flowed from the ballroom, and each person was a vision in velvet and satin, a walking kaleidoscope of dancing and laughing and color. Anna and Ariadne danced, quick as quicksilver and breathless with happiness. Anna was wearing a finely cut suit of ebony and snow white, while Ariadne was resplendent in a twilight blue gown that sparkled with stars and twirled as she did. “You are as gorgeous as an angel.” Anna called as she twirled Ariadne. “And you look like a goddess sent to Earth.” Ariadne called back, cheeks flushed with the blush of life. “Oh stop I might actually blush for once.” Anna said, bringing Ariadne close before dramatically dipping her. “What a sight that would be.” Ariadne mocked, laughing. “Maybe someday, I’ll get to witness this amazing phenomena.”

“You can keep hoping, Princess.” Anna replied, laughing as Ariadne lightly smacked her. “I think I will. After all, we’ve got plenty of time.”

The previous song had ended with a dramatic flourish, paving the way for a slower and more romantic piece. Alastair and Thomas slowly danced, staring into each other’s eyes. “What a week it has been. And it’s only been the first week.” Thomas said as the pair revolved on the dance floor. “Indeed. It might be awhile before we have any semblance of peace again.” Alastair replied. “Even you can't deny that you like our newcomers.” Thomas snarked back, no true bite in his voice. “I do, much to my dismay. I can admit they are fun and Anna especially is very fun. At least she knows how to drink and have fun, unlike you.” Alastair shot back, chuckling. “Oh shut up you. I'm plenty of fun.” Thomas said, affecting a wounded air. “I suppose you can be, but-” Thomas cut Alastair off and kissed him, holding him even closer. Alastair, drunk on happiness, held Thomas close as they kissed and the violins played a song of hearts broken and mended, souls torn and sewed back together.

Cordelia and James sat along the wall, laughing and joking with Lucie and Matthew. The squad had quickly become fast friends. Cordelia leaned forward and kissed James, while Matthew wolf whistled and Lucie slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up. The scene could be described as perfect, if such a thing exists. Music and songs and beauty and, most importantly of them all, new beginnings. What the future held was a mystery, and what the past held was unchangeable. But the now… well the now was whatever the people living in it made it. And everybody present at that party had chosen to make it something glowing with love and happiness and the treasured thing that is friendship. Twists of fate and acts of free will were what brought these people together, but it was their choice to stay. They could’ve shunned each other, torn themselves to bits and pieces while laughing. They could’ve betrayed who was supposed to be their enemies - stabbed them in the back and ran before they could be found by the accusing eyes of their victims. They could’ve done all of this, and more. But they didn’t - they chose to do the opposite. To nurture the compassion in their souls, the love blooming in their hearts. To make friends and lovers and family who would stand by them through the storm of the future, the unknown, and anything else that could be thought of.

#anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #arianna #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #Thomastair #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #jordelia #lucie herondale #matthew fairchild #lucieXMatthew #tsc #the last hours #megans writing

[doctors-star]

13 and/or 17 (... cowboys 🥺 pretty pls?) (but totally fine if u wanna do smthin else)

prompt list

cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

cruore - it literally means “flowing blood”

It’s a warm day out, dusty and dry under an impossibly large, impossibly blue sky. Now that it’s early afternoon and the worst of the midday heat has burned off and dissipated, the town is bustling out again into the streets, in and out of shops and ducking around riders and carriages. It sure isn’t the ideal time to unleash a room’s worth of unruly children who’ve all been cooped up since lunchtime upon the town in the vague hope they’ll make it home in one piece, but in all honesty there’s no good time to do that and they’ve got to go eventually.

Ainsel will get ‘em reading and writing, but they sure as hell ain’t some kind of charitable institution for bored youths.

Opening the door on such brightness and warmth requires serious blinking and squinting and no small amount of internal sorrow as the wall of heat hits Ainsel square in the chest and invades their cool, shaded front room. Not for the first time, they consider the merits of simply opening one of the rear windows and posting the children out of it one by one; not for the first time, the idea is dismissed. The kids would enjoy it entirely too much. Said children are presently scrambling up off the floor and making a break for the door, slates and tin lunch pans hastily shoved into small satchels, baskets, or simply jammed under one arm, and Ainsel steps neatly to one side to allow them free access to the door. For all that the kids bullied Ainsel into teaching them, they sure are always glad to get out at the end of the day.

“See you on Monday, then,” Ainsel says easily. The elder Diaz boy and Mary Wilder both twist to wave at them over their shoulders, but then they’re back to corralling their littler siblings and trying to get them to hold hands nicely for the walk out of town and up to their family ranches. The other kids pay him no mind at all - just tumble out into the street and turn their faces to the sun like little sunflowers. Little Jesse Rainey turns a little circle in the dust, swirling her skirts carefully so as to show off the new printed calico to best effect; she’s a little too used to being the saloon’s darling, if you ask Ainsel, all dressed up in pink with blonde hot-ironed ringlets, but she’s also one of the brightest kids in the class at only six years old. Ainsel reckons she could be the next schoolteacher in ten years or so, if an established schoolmaster could be prevailed upon to examine her and find Ainsel’s informal schooling up to scratch.

Two of the boys have immediately begun a small scuffle, the way young boys are apparently wont to do; Ainsel sighs, and steps forward to separate them (curse all, if one of them isn’t a loose Wilder at that) - but is beaten to the punch. There’s a sharp whistle and the clink of spurs as boots go from horseback to street, and to Ainsel’s great surprise Max Wilder jumps back and sticks his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky as his bare feet scuff at the dirty street. Were it not patently absurd, given the quantity of eye witnesses, Ainsel would say the boy was attempting to look entirely uninvolved.

Ainsel, amused, turns to raise an eyebrow at the newcomer. Will Williams catches their eye for a fraction of a second - enough for Will to roll his eyes, barely, in commiseration - and then he turns his unimpressed gaze upon the Wilder boy.

Max feigns surprise and delight well, for a nine-year-old of no particular theatrical bent; he beams at Williams with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. “Hiya, Doc,” he says through a gap-toothed smile. “How d’ya do.”

“All the better,” Will says, all dry and proper, “for knowing that you are safe at home after school and not fighting with the other boys, just like you promised me you would be. After all, we agreed on good behaviour if you were to come out to Plum Creek with me tomorrow. Didn’t we?”

Ainsel presses the knuckles of their fist to their mouth to ward off a smile as Max darts apologetically forward, spouting apologies and promises of better behaviour for ever and ever if only the Doc - that is, Mr Williams - wouldn’t tell his pa and would still take him out to the river to look for tracks. It’s more grovelling than Ainsel’s ever managed to extract from a pupil for bad behaviour, but then, Ainsel only ever promises letters and numbers, and Max seems under the impression that Williams is going to provide frogs and snakes and half a dozen other natural wonders, so.

Will scratches the back of his neck. “Well, alright,” he relents. “I - I am going to tell your pa, mind, but if he doesn’t say otherwise I don’t see why you shouldn’t come.” Max does a little victory dance and then returns to his classmates, bragging all the while about the things he’ll see out by the creek. Will himself tips his hat politely at Ainsel. “Afternoon.”

Ainsel is aware that they make Will Williams nervous. Many things do, but Ainsel reckons they do a better job of it than most folks; this is somewhat ironic, in many ways, as a fair few things make Ainsel anxious too. If they could get the measure of each other, Ainsel thinks they oughta be friends - they’d like a person to commiserate with about being thrust into a job they ain’t really qualified for, and not-a-doctor Will Williams seems like a good choice - but Williams keeps careful distance from Ainsel, even in broad daylight in a street full of children, and Ainsel ain’t hopeful. They offer a smile anyhow. “Afternoon, Williams. What can I do you for?”

Will nods gently at Miss Rainey, his own face turning gentle. “This one’s wanted at home,” he says with a smile and Jesse blushes and beams, pleased with the attention. “She’s to pick out a new ribbon at the store if she can keep tally of how much we spend and write it up neatly in the saloon books. How’s that, Miss Rainey?”

Jesse puffs up her chest with pride. “I shall have a blue ribbon like Mary Wilder’s,” she says with certainty.

Will offers Ainsel a flicker of a grin. “Jayne Rainey figures your schooling ought to be good for something,” he says, and if anyone else in the town had said it Ainsel would have winced - but Will’s got more books than clothes, same as Ainsel, so they offer a quick grin back. If only Ainsel could remember what they were doing before they woke up in Danser some years back: that way, they could say for sure if they went to college like Will, and Ainsel might feel a little less like, maybe, the local nice, nervous naturalist oughta be taking classes instead of the local amnesiac with a scary-clever horse and the books which they may or may not be qualified to own and read. Knowing that kind of thing, actually, might go a long way towards some kind of friendship with Will Williams, too.

“I figure so too,” Ainsel agrees, instead of voicing that, or anything like it. They beat down the impulse to seek answers, confess worries, force a confidence - to say hey, Williams - you wanna take a look at Edelweiss? Nah, nothing’s wrong; only, sometimes I don’t reckon she’s really a horse. You know anything about that? Only Will wouldn’t. Ainsel knows as much as they reckon they’re gonna, honestly - there was a trade, and for whatever they gave up they got Edelweiss in exchange. And maybe something else, too, but they’ll be damned if they know what.

Ainsel tries very hard to unthink that particular thought.

“Ainsel says I could keep a school,” Jesse is telling Will with pride.

“I’m sure you could,” Will replies with a little smile. Ainsel hadn’t figured Will as one for children, but then Jesse Rainey and Max Wilder are small forces of nature; if they take a liking to a person, it’s hard not to be endeared. And Jesse is the saloon proprietor’s daughter, and Will rents a room in the saloon, and Jesse is the saloon’s darling. Will shoots a glance at Ainsel. “You’re - you’re training up a replacement already?”

Ainsel inclines their head at Max Wilder, who is crouching in the dust with a stick and drawing around the hooves of Will’s square, broad-chested stock horse. Ainsel remembers Will defending his choice to Finn - Will’s horse looks more like a small draught horse than a good or fast rider, but she’s quiet and she stays still while he’s out watching animals - and indeed, though the horse is gently nosing at the boy, her hooves are staying obediently planted as he natters away at her about prints. “Should say you were, too.”

Will huffs gently at Max, who entirely fails to notice. “It was an accident. Alright, let’s get going before your parents come after me wondering where you kids are. Max, are - are you going to walk us home?”

Max bounces up, catching up the horse’s reins and bringing her over with the practised ease of anyone born and raised on the Wilder ranch. “Sure! Can I ride?”

Will carefully lifts Jesse up into the saddle. “Ladies have to ride, Max,” he corrects. “When I was little, my brother always-”

And though Will stutters into silence, Ainsel - sort of hears the rest of the story anyway. Their cards have made their way into Ainsel’s hands without them noticing and the odd paintings are switching and shifting before their eyes as they shuffle idly, and then stop. The card is of what might be a tower, and what might be a cart, and what is almost certainly a lady; the colours twist the eye and every line slides into the next until what had started as one thing is something else entirely by the end.

If you were going to play poker with these cards, you’d probably call this one the Queen of Spades.

Do not play poker with these cards.

But Ainsel looks at the cards, and the strange, illusory lines that leave only impressions, and sees with odd and abrupt clarity a young man with Will’s face but without his glasses and with a shadow of unruly stubble. He is perhaps broader than Will, too, but the resemblance is clear. And in the card, the young man grins and sweeps a small child up into a massive bear hug. He kisses the child’s hair - once plaited, Ainsel thinks, but now entirely loose and wild after a day of playing - and places them with great care and reverence on the back of a tall, thin black horse. The child, the little girl, giggles as the boy kisses her hand, says she is a princess, and runs an affectionate hand through her loose, dark hair to tidy it away before placing his hat on her head. The girl’s hands push the brim up out of her eyes - eyes which are doubtless, doubtless, Will Williams’ eyes - and Ainsel closes their own eyes, and wishes they had done so sooner.

When he opens them again, it’s just the Queen of Spades once more. Like nothing ever happened.

“Well, I, I guess you can ride behind and keep Miss Rainey steady,” Will is saying when Ainsel folds his fingers over the painted cards and looks up once more. He doesn’t seem quite so steady as he did before as he hoists Max up onto the horse’s back.

There’s no way to tell him what Ainsel knows. They wouldn’t, anyhow - Will never said, and wouldn’t thank them for disrupting the life Williams has carefully built for himself. But Ainsel would like, somehow, to communicate that Will’s big brother had seemed nice; that Will, as a kid, had seemed happy with him; that Will didn’t have to give up on his childhood and on the nice boy who had run his fingers so gently and fondly through his kid sibling’s hair, just because he’d changed over the years.

Ainsel kinda misses the memory of their own childhood, sometimes. Maybe someone had once been so affectionate with them, too.

Will catches Ainsel staring and tilts his head in query. Ainsel shakes themself and offers a small smile. “Y’all ride safe, now,” they say. “Oh, and Max Wilder - you tell your ma you’ll need shoes for the walk before the next week is out, ‘cause it’ll be getting colder and you can’t have Will Williams carting you home every day.”

“Sure will,” Max calls back, grinning and swinging his bare feet from high up on the horse’s broad, grey-dappled rear. “Bye, Ainsel!”

“Goodbye!” Jesse says, holding firm to the pommel as she shifts to look back. “I’ll show you my ribbon on Monday.”

Will just inclines his head and takes the reins in one hand.

Ainsel fidgets the cards in one hand. “Be seeing you, Williams,” they say carefully. As the party moves away, heading for the general store, the Wilder ranch, and home, Ainsel flips the top card over and over in their fingers, and hopes against hope that they wouldn’t be seeing Will Williams at all.

--

There are days, Ainsel knows, that they don’t sit fully right with Finn Holden. It’s a different kind of discomfort to wrong-footed Will Williams, but it’s there nonetheless - sometimes they catch Finn trying to look at them without looking at all, out of the corner of his eye or in a mirror or in the eyes of someone else who is looking at Ainsel, and they know that he knows that they know.

Like now: hunched over a little table in the saloon littered with glasses and an incomplete set of dominoes, just the two of them, and Finn’s looking over Ainsel’s shoulder. Ostensibly, eyeing up the liquor behind the bar; in reality, examining the back of Ainsel’s head in the smokey mirror behind the glasses. Ainsel prods the double six morosely and tries not to let it bother them. It does seem unfair, really, that Finn doesn’t bother people the way Ainsel does. That Ainsel bothers Finn, but not vise versa.

They think maybe choice comes into it. But Ainsel doesn’t even know if they made a choice, way back whenever they did whatever it was to land them in Danser Town with a horse and cards and no recollection at all of how this came to be. They might have been totally helpless to their fate, same as Finn had said he was, when Ainsel had cornered him after two weeks and demanded to know what, exactly, the fuck had happened to Finn to make him smell permanently of clay and sawn pine planks and blood.

(If Ainsel is honest with themself, they suspect that they did have a choice. They suspect they made a deal. The knowledge that their fate has been entirely self-wrought is not helpful.)

“Hey,” Finn says, looking at the table rather than Ainsel and tacking a domino on the end of the six. Is that better? Ainsel isn’t sure. “You been...well, lately?”

Ainsel regrets that Finn has cause to have concern for him. Unfortunately, there are only so many times a person can be seen screaming blue bloody murder at a horse for being a demon in passive, judgemental mostly-horse form before people start taking that person aside and asking about how things are going at home, and that number of times is one. “Grand,” Ainsel says levelly. They’re not wholly lying, either; they haven’t found themself lost and memory-less in a forest for nearly three weeks, Edelweiss hasn’t tried to bite them for their many and varied sins today, and Johnny McPherson had offered them a friendly holler across the street that had actually done disproportionate wonders for Ainsel’s mood. But, also, Finn isn’t looking at them straight. He’s looking the way that Will says you oughta, when you’re a little too close to some creature that can kill ya but hasn’t tried yet; with the kind of caution which is always recommended in old wives’ tales about ghosts and devils and the fae.

Finn nods. “Glad.” Then, abruptly, as if bored of being careful (not unlikely) Finn slumps back in his chair and eyeballs Ainsel straight on. It’s - oddly comforting, actually. “I’m sick of dominoes. We don’t even have half the damn pieces.”

They have all bar two. Ainsel sweeps the tiles together into a pile and starts dividing them into two sets of seven and a discard pile, pushing them across the sticky table with long, pale fingertips. “You want to play that Matador game Johnny was trying to teach us?”

Finn huffs. “Tryin’ is the word. If you can remember the rules, then I’m Saint Bridget. I sure as hell can’t.”

Ainsel tips their head, conceding the point. Something about sevens, and it being annoying that their set lacked the five-two; Ainsel had been a bit drunk at the time. “Well? We’ve got to play something. I ain’t gonna just sit here and talk to ya, no-one’s got that patience.”

Finn laughs, loud and inelegant, and Ainsel grins. “Aw, you ass,” he says cheerfully, spinning his glass on the table with careful flicks. “Let’s play cards or something. I’m a demon at rummy.”

“The saloon hasn’t got any cards any more, remember?” Ainsel points out.

Finn frowns. “It don’t? Why not?”

“Jesse Rainey nicked ‘em and gave out the picture cards to the other kids as favours. And, also, as a kind of basic hierarchy system, far as I can figure it.”

“Aw, hell. Why does that kid get away with everything?”

“Y’all reckon she’s cute.”

Finn grins. “She is! It’s like being mad at the kid on the Pear’s soap ads, or a gopher.” Ainsel spreads their hands - well, there you go - and Finn laughs. “Alright. You got cards, though, right?”

Ainsel rides the sudden lurch of horror at the idea of anyone else even seeing the cards, let alone using them. But - they want Finn and Will and everyone else to see them as normal folk, they gotta Be Normal. Have a normal horse, and a normal life, and normal playing cards. Any number of things can cause amnesia - hitting your head real hard because your horse, which maybe hates you, kicked you or bucked you or something. Trauma. Heatstroke. Normal shit, which ain’t magic no matter how much you side-eye it or examine it in mirrors. Finn might’ve just - imagined it, or had a vision like some religious folks do. Ainsel could have dreamed up any number of things and thought them real - what he’d seen of Will could be nothing. Probably says more about Ainsel than it does about Will anyhow.

Be Normal. Ainsel reckons they can do that. Most all other folks seem to.

Ainsel brings out their pack from the inner pocket of their duster, shakes out their wrists with a confident movement, and manages two whole shuffles before dropping most of the pack. The beautiful cards flutter and spin as if caught by some wild, summer wind and scatter over the table and floor in an unstoppable cascade. Finn tips his head back and laughs like a hyena.

“You’re the clumsiest fuckin’ card shark I ever seen,” he says delightedly.

“I am not a card shark,” Ainsel says rather absently as they scrabble to collect up the cards on the table.

Finn snorts. “I believe it! But what else you carryin’ all these damn cards all the damn day for, huh?” He gets off his chair and drops to the saloon floor, hunting down Ainsel’s precious cards before they get trampled or lost between the boards.

“I don’t know,” they bite back rather crossly; one of the cards, the Jack of Hearts, has just jumped away from Ainsel’s grasping fingers and they have to stand and lean over the table to snatch it up from Finn’s chair. Ainsel glances at it habitually as they sit back down and briefly forgets how to breathe.

The card, like every other, is not a standard face card. The young knave depicted always seems to form out of the swirling lines upside-down, no matter how Ainsel looks at the card, with an inverted heart on his chest like a drop of ruby-rich blood. And for a moment, whilst Ainsel watches, the Jack looks out at them with Finn’s eyes that are not Finn’s eyes. The heart pulses, once, and slides away and dissipates; the eyes go dark and glazed; and Ainsel is looking at a dead man in a churchyard. Some shadow oozes into the edges of the card and at the same pace blood leaks thick and dark from the man’s chest. There is no helping him; he is gone. Ainsel knows it. And then, he sits up. Abruptly, like he’s awakening from a nightmare. He inhales hugely, or tries to, as though he had been drowning, but chokes on his own blood. The man spends quite some time on all fours, coughing and retching and hacking up blood, but this slows and he sits back on his haunches to assess the pool of blood. He wipes at his chin with the back of his hand and grimaces - not with pain, more like disgust. And then he looks up - and this time, it is Finn with Finn’s eyes who is looking straight out of the card at Ainsel.

Ainsel’s fist closes around the card, barely managing to avoid crushing it. They look up in time for Finn’s head to appear in triumph over the edge of the table, clonking his temple gently against the underside as he does. Finn brandishes a handful of cards at Ainsel with a grin, and Ainsel sees him bleed out and wake up over and over in their mind.

They take the cards. Slide the pack back together. Tuck them deep down in an inner pocket.

Finn blinks at them for a moment. “So no cards today, then.”

“No,” Ainsel says shortly.

Finn nods solemnly. “You wanna talk about it?”

Absolutely fucking not. Ainsel slides the dominoes back across the table a little too violently, sending ivory tiles skittering against their empty glasses and shoves a couple Finn’s way. Finn, who is alive and well and not all that damn normal either, so damn it all; maybe no-one in this town is normal enough to start shit with Ainsel, and everyone ought to fuckin’ remember it. Ainsel fixes their gaze on the base of a glass, in whose curving reflection they can watch Finn without actually looking at him. “Come on, Saint Bridget,” they say roughly. “Double six starts.”

There is a short pause, and then Finn’s hand closes over the glass which Ainsel is using to look at Finn without looking at him, and they can’t see Finn’s reflection anymore. “Alright,” Finn says quietly. “Matador it is.”

#cowboy content (yeah!) #ainsel's creepy as hell what fun #the supernatural's creeping in chaps #or is it #i'm aiming for ambiguous truth #hope you enjoy! playing with other people's ocs is funa dn also nervewracking #*fun and #this is your captain speaking #a town called danser

[ethanramseyyy]

OPEN HEART : SECOND YEAR CHAPTER 8

SO. MUCH. HAPPENED. I say this every week but I genuinely think this chapter was the most fun to play. I literally had the biggest smile on my face the whole time I was playing it.

Let’s start from the beginning. The first scene reminded me so much of the first book when we spent basically everyday in the bar. I love that it felt like old times and that we got to spend some time with our friends and Elijah as I feel like we really haven’t seen him that much in this book so far. Also Bryce Stans I’m so happy for you! He finally appeared and you got a diamond scene with him and his sister. I didn’t play it but I’m sure it was amazing! I’m so glad that the diamond scenes have become more fair for everyone and I overall just thought this scene was so cute. I like that they talked about his struggles with his sister and that choices didn’t decide to leave that storyline just for the diamond scene after the festival a couple of chapters ago. I love love love that someone who isn’t necessarily a main character has gotten a large storyline.

I thought the little interaction with Aurora at the apartment was really nice and I think that it really showed how much our friendship has developed since the first book. Even though I didn’t buy the Bryce diamond scene I did buy the scene with the boys. And it was so worth the diamonds! The fact that we are slowly getting to know everyone’s backstories is literally amazing as that’s all we wanted from the first book. I’m so not surprised that Bryce was a surfer tbh but I was surprised that Raf was a jock. He striked me more as a quiet type but I guess not. When Elijah said that his coach wouldn’t let him try out for the team because of his chair I literally felt so heartbroken for him. I was seriously ready to kick his coach’s ass but obviously Elijah being the cutest most positive person ever he didn’t care about it. I love his character sooooo much, I honestly hope that we get to have more one to one scenes with him.

One of my favourite moments was when we asked Ethan to be on the team and his first response was ‘NO’. obviously! have you met Ethan Ramsey?! But all MC had to do was look at him and he said yes. It really goes to show that he will do anything for the one he loves. We got so much cute and heartwarming Ethan content today. I literally fall more and more in love with him everyday.

And then the game began. This reminded me so much of the baseball episode in Greys Anatomy. If you’ve watched that show then you will undertstand.I never expected Choices to do something like that in Open Heart but I’m SO glad that they did.

Landry. I can’t believe he had the nerve to even try and speak to us. I was a little bit glad that he decided to though just so we could shout at him again because I love doing that. And obviously Elijah and all our friends stuck up for us and shouted at him aswell. Our friendship group is honestly unbreakable. It’s crazy to think about how different it could have been if he didn’t stab us in the back. Anyway DROP DEAD LANDRY.

I had the BIGGEST smile on my face whilst playing through the game. It was honestly such a good idea. I’m also so glad that Zaid, Baz and Ines were there. We never really get to see Zaid or Ines now that we aren’t interns anymore so it was really nice to see them both. And Baz we all know is one of my favourite people because he’s so adorable so it was also really nice to see him. Zaids lack of enthusiasm and Ines apologising for getting overly aggressive really made me ship them even more. I just want to know if they are together.

I really don’t know what to think about the whole Aurora situation. My MC was quite angry with her and I don’t know if that was the best option. However, I do think it was a bit snakey of her to tell Dr Carrick about our patient because we told her as a friend not a doctor. But then I guess you could argue that she didn’t know that he would take our patient. I really don’t know but it’s going to be interesting seeing how everyone else reacts. I’m seriously not ready to be snaked out by another one of our best friends.

WE WON!!! I mean...duh. Do you really think that I would let Mass Kenmore win. I think not. As soon as I saw the diamond scene to get practise in to increase my chances of winning , I didn’t hesitate. I bought that scene just to see Tobias’ reactionwhen we won. I honestly hate that guy so much. But not as much as Declan Nash and we all know. I really wish we had gotten a picture of the group hug because that was so nice. And then we saw Ethan smiling at us. I don’t know about anyone else but anytime he smiles, I genuinely feel like my heart is melting. No just me. Ok cool. But their relationship is literally so cute. I have said it before but I love that it’s more of an actual relationship now and not just a ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing. But we are still waiting for that 30 diamond scene. And I thought that today was going to be the day when he said we could go back to his place. But it wasn’t. Unfortunately.

WE FREAKING COOKED TOGETHER. We are actually married. No one can tell me otherwise. Just the thought of MC and Ethan cooking and Ethan teaching us how to cook whilst giving us the occasional smile. Literal heaven.

Choices have done such a good job with Ethans storyline. We were asking for his backstory for soooo long. And I’m so glad they waited because it’s been amazing!I love that MC was there to support him when him and his dad were trying to talk things out. And I’m glad that now MC is around, Ethan knows that he can open up to us and we will understand. I just loved it so much. It felt so genuine. I would add pictures of this moment but I have a 10 picture limit and i NEED to add pictures from the kiss. That’s the most important part.

This kiss was perfect. I just have so much love for this man. We know he’s in love with us and vice versa so why aren’t choices just giving us that 30 diamond scene. It would be much appreciated. Every single week, I’m like ‘this could be the week’. But then it’s not. I know we waited FOREVER to get a 30 diamond scene in the first book so I’m not surprised. And to be honest I am loving the suspense and suspiciousness around their relationship at the moment. But if not a 30 diamond scene what about a wedding, or a holiday together or a date. Just anything really.

I’m so undecided about who’s going to die. I think it may be Kyra but I was also CONVINCED it was Raf because they’ve been giving subtle hints with him throughout the entire book. I really don’t know! I really like Kyra and I hope she’s able to fight the cancer like she did the first time. But honestly I can’t decide if it’s going to be Rafael, Kyra or someone else completely. When she said that line in the picture below, I felt like crying. This death is going to be heartbreaking.

Sorry if I missed anything I tried to cover as much as I could but there was a lot in this chapter. I also found it abit weird that Dr Hirata wasn’t at the baseball game. Correct me if I’m wrong but it seemed to me that all the doctors we have interacted with were there except her. Maybe she was and I missed it. But anyway I also want to say I thought Bruce’s outfit for the game was so funny. I wouldn’t except anything less from him.

Open Heart 2 is really smashing it.

@playchoices

#ethanramseyxmc #ethan ramsey #ethanramseyyy #choices #bryce lahela #choicesoh #choices open heart #ethan x mc #open heart #openheart #mc x ethan ramsey #choicesOH

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 56 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Twinkle Toes

"Gentlemen outside, ladies inside ..."

The delicate strains of the lute underscored Josephine's gentle reminder of where they were supposed to be at this point in the dance. Palm to palm with Dorian as they circled in time to the music, Rory found herself once again sending mild disapproval through the ether to Cullen, who had somehow managed to avoid taking part in these interminable lessons on etiquette and courtly behavior. This little group certainly made for an interesting learning experience.

"Still don't see the point," Sera was complaining on the other side of the room, snickering as her partner - Leliana - corrected her direction with just a touch to her shoulder. "Anyone asks me to dance, I'll kick 'em."

"No, you will not." Vivienne sighed wearily. "You will politely decline. Bull, darling, you're squeezing again."

"Sorry, ma'am," the big Qunari agent apologized, concentrating on loosening his grip on the First Enchanter's fingers.

"Please remember not to close the distance between yourself and your partner when you spin," Josephine called. The ambassador had taken on the task of teaching Kaaras to dance, and despite all initial fears, he was proving to be surprisingly good at it.

"So just how big is this going to be in two weeks' time?" Dorian asked as Rory spun tentatively out under his arm and back in to lay her hand on his shoulder and fall into the waltzing part. He gestured to the bump at her middle.

It was definitely a bump now, more difficult to hide despite its relative smallness. Her pants no longer fitted, her dresses were starting to feel snug, and Cullen had had to cut new holes in the leather of her belt after a particularly petulant outburst when she could no longer fasten the thing comfortably about herself. Thankfully, however, it was still small enough to disappear in the flouncing layers of skirt Francoise was gleefully putting the finishing touches to.

"Not too much bigger than this, I hope," Rory answered Dorian's query with a half-shrug. "Otherwise even with the dress I'm going to have to be careful not to get too close to people."

He looked down at the smooth bulge, with its unmistakable shape, gently intruding on the space between them. "I am still mildly astonished that there's a baby in there," he admitted quietly. It had been a while since he'd had to correct her when it came to dancing - while everyone else was concentrating, the two of them had managed to hold some interesting conversations. "I daresay it won't be real until the brat starts to kick."

"You're so complimentary." Rory chuckled, shaking her head gently. "If you ever say the word "fat", I will kick you."

"I will deserve it, if I do," Dorian assured her with a smile behind his mustache. "Not that I would, I am the soul of civility."

But protest as he might, the altus was fascinated by her pregnancy. She hadn't thought he'd be all that interested, really, but it was Dorian who had noticed she winced whenever wine was offered to her and had taken steps to make sure it didn't happen again; Dorian, who had gently suggested that perhaps she should start wearing the dresses rather than squeeze into her pants; Dorian, who was reading textbooks on midwifery and child-rearing in his spare time. He didn't seem entirely sold on the idea of ever actually interacting with the baby, but he was certainly invested in making sure the pregnancy was a successful one.

Given the way things had been left with his father in Redcliffe, it was doubly surprising that he would care quite so much about friends who must, in some way, remind him of the "perfect" son Halward had wanted instead of him. But Rory appreciated the way he went about it, that understated way of just doing things that needed to be done, saying the right things to Cullen when he was in a state, absently pulsing heat into her when they met in chilled corridors. Dorian was becoming possibly her best friend here, and she really wasn't sure how to tell him that. Especially since, in the games, he only ever admitted to being friends with the Inquisitor.

"I do hope you two are speaking Orlesian," Vivienne called as they whirled past the ridiculous sight of her still trying to teach Bull that he wasn't allowed to just pick her up and swing her around the floor, no matter how much easier it was.

"Comment ne pouvons-nous pas avec vous écouter chaque mot?" Dorian answered her in flawless Orlesian, sending Rory into giggles that were echoed by Sera on the other side of the room.

"I am not listening to every word you say," the First Enchanter objected, but there really was very little she could do about it - the altus had already managed to whirl his dance partner to the other end of the carefully cleared floor.

"You know, I'm getting the distinct impression that they don't believe I'm more than capable of holding a conversation in Orlesian by this point," Rory drawled, hesitating for just a moment as the music changed.

Only for a moment - the pressure of Dorian's hand on her side changed subtly, and she remembered what came next with that gentle guidance. It was a shame she wouldn't be able to dance every dance with him, really; once she was with another partner, there was every chance she was going to forget how this went entirely.

"You are going to be a spy for the evening," the altus pointed out in amusement. "As well as furthering your own career, no doubt."

She giggled, falling into the promenade with him easily. "My career is the last thing on my mind when it comes to walking into that snake pit, Dorian."

"My dear girl, one of the Masters of the Guild has invited you as his guest," he reminded her with a low chuckle. "You may be a Mistress of the Guild before the night is through!"

"You sound more excited about that than Granthis does," she protested, glad to see him relaxing once again. "Evy's the one who should be joining the Guild; she's got more talent for healing than I ever did."

"Ah, but sadly the captain and his wife will be returning to Skyhold only a day after we leave for the in-bred glories of Halamshiral," Dorian pointed out in amusement. "You will simply have to ... what was that charming phrase you used the other day? Ah, yes. Suck it up."

Over the sound of Rory's uncontrollable piggy-snort of laughter, Josephine called out, "Turn and bow, the dance is over."

"I should never have told you what that phrase meant," Rory giggled as she curtsied to Dorian, rolling her eyes at the look of pure mischief on his face.

"But you make such adorable noises when I use it," he protested innocently, accepting the gentle slap she gave to his midriff without comment. "Truly! That sweet little snort is the brightest light of my day!"

"If you make me do that at the Winter Palace, I may have to spike your wine with something that'll make you see dancing fairies," she threatened, though they both knew she'd never do it.

It was a strange sort of friendship they had, but it was friendship, and one she treasured. If there was anyone she felt she might be able to tell about her not-very-Thedosian background, it was Dorian, but it felt cruel to lay that burden on his shoulders. He didn't deserve to hear all about how weird everything here was to someone who had grown up with electricity and indoor plumbing. But she also knew that if she ever did let anything slip to him, he wouldn't immediately assume she was dangerous. Dorian, of all people, knew that what was presented was never the whole story.

"Very good," Josephine was saying, looking over the four of them who were supposed to be learning how to dance. "Sera ... perhaps you should only dance with members of the Inquisition."

Sera rolled her eyes, making a slightly rude noise. "I'm not dancin'," she informed Josephine easily.

The ambassador restrained her sigh, and didn't bother to argue. Sera was problematic, but she had insisted on being at the Winter Palace along with everyone else, so all Josephine could do was lay a thin veneer of etiquette over the Red Jenny's habitual attitude and hope for the best. She looked much happier with the progress of Bull, Kaaras, and Rory, though.

"The same time again tomorrow, please," she told them. "We will be starting on the quadrille, which is the last of the official court dances you will have to learn. Rory ... please wear the shoes."

Rory just about managed to hide her wince. "Yes, Josie," she agreed in a resigned voice.

She hated the shoes. Oh, they were beautiful. Leliana had gone all the way to Val Royeaux to commission them herself, and had returned with the materials and the cobbler to make certain they fitted to perfection. The only problem was the heels. Rory had never really worn heels on Earth, and here on Thedas, she was more than comfortable in her flat boots. Learning to walk and dance in shoes that had a two inch heel, however comfortable they were, was not a fun experience.

"I do solemnly swear not to let you fall over unless I am underneath you," Dorian murmured to her, earning himself another soft piggy-snort that made her cringe.

"Okay, you are officially bad for my composure," she informed her friend fondly. "I have to get back to the infirmary. Merrill was threatening to drop in, and Gustav has no idea how to handle unfettered enthusiasm."

"Back to the grind, I see," he agreed, moving to walk with her as the group left the study to wander back to their own amusements. All but Kaaras, who had an entire nation's worth of titles and names to learn in two weeks.

It didn't seem long enough for them to be comfortable with what they needed to know. It certainly was looming in Rory's mind, made worse by the fact that she was technically going to be there alone. Oh, she trusted Granthis; she was sure he would go out of his way to make sure nothing terrible happened to her; but a part of her desperately wanted to either be left at home, or to be wearing that silly uniform and glued to Cullen's side all night. The gown - which was, admittedly, beautiful - was also going to be utterly unique at the ball. She was going to draw attention just standing quietly in a corner, whether she wanted to or not. But it was all a show. Her role was to be vacuous and alert for anything she might overhear, to distract the nobles with her unusual style of dress and her dazzling charm (or lack of it) so that Kaaras and the rest of them could do what they were there to do in the first place.

It didn't help that she genuinely had no idea which way her Qunari friend's opinion would fall when it came to the outcome of the evening. She'd thought he would ally with the templars; instead, he had conscripted the mages. On paper, he might seem to favor an alliance of all three, to keep Orlais focused on itself, but in practice, who knew what he might decide to do. Or not do, she reminded herself. She didn't want to think about the very real possibility that her friend might just stand back and let someone be murdered in front of him, but she couldn't get away from the knowledge that Cullen was inclined to support that decision himself. Every now and then, Thedas threw these differences at her - differences in opinion that made her modern mind reel back from the consequences of. I'm just glad that I don't have to make that decision.

She paused on the steps outside the door to the main hall, hugging her arms about herself as she let the chilly breeze clear away the cobwebs. Down in the lower courtyard, she could see the rawest of the raw recruits being put through their initial paces; habit drew her eyes up to the battlements opposite, where Cullen was watching them critically. Unusually, though, he wasn't alone. Garrett Hawke was leaning against the stone wall of the gatehouse tower, the two men apparently in quiet, slightly awkward conversation. And that's another thing not to look forward to, she remembered with an unhappy sigh. The siege of Adamant was on the far horizon, on the other side of the Winter Palace, and Hawke might die there. Gods, what if his Warden friend is Alistair? That's going to hurt me. But the choice would be a no-brainer for Kaaras, very likely. To choose between a mage who was slowly becoming a friend, who understood the pressures he was under in a way no one else ever would, and a Grey Warden who would not have that same emotional impact with him ... it wasn't a choice, not really. For the first time, Rory found herself hoping the Warden was Loghain. That would serve him right. But again, she couldn't help feeling glad that the decision would not be hers to make. She would simply live the consequences with everyone else.

Her hand rubbed absently over the little bulge at her waist. There really was no mistaking that she was pregnant now, but at least layering up could still conceal the obvious evidence. Well, the tummy evidence. She bit her lips against a grin. Cullen had taken obvious delight in helping her to adjust her new breast-band to fit when it became obvious that her ladies were putting on weight. She couldn't help feeling proud of them - she'd always felt a little lacking in the breast department. Pregnancy had certainly perked them up a little, though she had a feeling that wouldn't last. Still, she intended to enjoy them while she could.

Letting that grin loose, she jogged down the steps to the upper courtyard, heading toward her infirmary with purpose. Two weeks, and she wouldn't be here to hover and annoy everyone for at least another two weeks. She wanted to be certain everything was in good condition for Evy's return.

Thinking of Evy broadened her smile as she passed the tavern. The newly-weds had been summarily dismissed to the Free Marches for a honeymoon, where Bann Trevelyan and his family were hosting them more than happily. If Aveline Vallen can do it, why not them? She'd received precisely one letter from her friends, which had consisted of a ridiculously long description of the feast Evy's father had thrown and all the people who were there from Evy, and a slightly shorter, definitely smug description of what it was really like to be a husband from Rylen. They were gloriously in love. It might almost have been sickening, if she hadn't known the feeling intimately herself.

Still, she wouldn't see either of them for a month. As Dorian had said, they were due to return the day after the inner circle decamped to Val Royeaux and Halamshiral. It was already strange not to have Evy right here to tell her how to behave around the various noble visitors; not to constantly run into Rylen in the evenings as he came ot the infirmary to collect his lady love. She missed them, but she was glad they had this chance to enjoy being married before life and war rolled in on top of them again. They were lucky not to be coming to the Winter Palace. If she could get out of it, she would.

She pushed opened the door to the infirmary, ducking inside with a reassuring smile for Gustav. Work now, worry later. Much later.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #MGiT #modern girl in thedas #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #dorian pavus #sera #iron bull #josephine montilyet #vivienne de fer #leliana #kaaras adaar #lessons for the winter palace #how to dance 101 #small bit of angst about what's coming

[thetimelesscycle]

The Hobbit Fanfic: The Heart of Erebor - Chapter 63

Summary: ‘He could stand the wild light in his uncle’s gaze. He withstood the crazed glint that entered the ravenous stares of his companions. He endured seeing the dragon’s greed take them all. But when that madness seeped also into the eyes of his own beloved brother, he knew something had to be done. He just wasn’t expecting it to be this.’-The gold sickness of Erebor claims one more, and the path of destiny is irrevocably changed.

Inspired by the following quote from ‘The Hobbit’: “So grim had Thorin become, that even if they had wished, the others would not have dared to find fault with him; but indeed most of them seemed to share his mind-except perhaps old fat Bombur and Fili and Kili.”

*Cover Art Courtesy of Toastytoastie

   /THE HEART OF EREBOR\

ACT VI -The King Beneath the Mountain-

Chapter 63

New Oaths and Old Wounds

Though Bilbo was not the only one who might have wished otherwise, the coronation ceremony was far from the conclusion of the day’s events. It was not just a simple matter of Thorin accepting his crown and being done with it. There were too many bridges to rebuild for that, too many shattered alliances that needed to be pieced together anew, shard by scattered shard. If the act of crowning Erebor’s new king itself had seemed daunting, then this was a challenge worthy only of the most stalwart of Durin’s blood. A challenge Fìli stepped forward to receive with head held high, knowing the duty he was about to accept, and knowing it was not his alone.

For that was the first matter Thorin chose to address; his nephews’ place in the line of succession. Whilst their initiation was not a trial such as Thorin’s had been, it was a clear and final message to all who bore witness that the eldest line of Durin was united in this venture. The fissures that had ensured they were not standing together when it came time to face their doom were now gone, healed over by mortar stronger than any stone, bound never to break again.

No doubt it would bring comfort to the many who had heard the rumours of what had happened above Erebor’s gate so long ago, exaggerated and further poisoned by Valin’s whispered venom. It was not a mistake Thorin would soon forget, Fìli saw that promise in his uncle’s eyes even as his lips spoke only the official words, and he silently nodded his own agreement with the sentiment. He did not know if Kìli was aware of their exchange, his brother said nothing, merely touching him lightly on the arm when they were both called to take their rightful place on either side of their king. It put them squarely in the line of fire, on display alongside Thorin for all the world to see. That should have been daunting, but, for his part, Fìli found he was simply glad to be able to sit down at last. There were still many to speak with, many to thank, and the very idea of standing through that entire ordeal made his leg ache.

Well, he amended in the privacy of his own mind, ache more.

As it was, they were all three of them seated as Erebor’s subjects were invited to swear fealty to their lord. Unlike those of the king, these oaths were not strictly of tradition, for Thorin had been true to his word that he would demand no loyalty despite the crown he wore. What was asked was only what was willingly offered, so it was no great surprise that the first to come forward were the faces of old; Balin, who had been friend before he was counsellor. Dwalin, shield and ax and brother-in-arms. Gloin and Oin, who had always claimed their blood ties to Durin’s line, and now professed their loyalty with the same pride. Lofi, who had served Thror and Thrain, and intended to spend the remainder of his years in service to a king of that line. Tyrth, who was of a mining family, with no ounce of noble blood in his veins, and yet none dared suggest he did not have a right to his place on the King’s Council.

Others came forward as well, both expected and not. Noble families who had been disinherited along with their monarch when the mountain fell. Influential merchants from the Iron Hills. Travellers and traders and all manner of folks who perhaps believed more in gaining the favour of a wealthy king than in the promises they were making. Fìli knew better than to believe all were in earnest - Erebor was a mountain wrought of temptation, and more than his line would be tested by it - but enough of the faces he saw bowed before the throne were familiar to give him hope that, for every insincere word uttered, others were honestly meant.

Thorin received them all graciously regardless, whether or not he believed their overtures to be in earnest, and his stately demeanour did not waver until Dain stepped forward, Svala ever at his side and Rin a step behind, to bend his knee before his cousin.

“Dain.” The throne room fell suddenly quiet, expectant. With a single gesture, Dain had made a statement that more than just Thorin were struggling to grasp, a hint of surprise slipping into the king’s words as he continued, “There is no need for you to bow before me.”

“On the contrary, Thorin,” the Lord of the Iron Hills corrected him calmly. “It is custom to show respect to one’s king.”

“But I am not your king, Dain,” Thorin replied just as softly, even if the room naturally carried the words. “That is a right that is yet to be earned, like any other.”

“And still, here I am.” Though his knee might be bent, Dain held his head high, meeting Thorin’s confusion with a steadiness that did not waver. There was in him as much of the Durin stubbornness as Thror’s line had ever inherited, and Fìli could see it now glowing in his eyes. “Ready to swear fealty, if my king will hear my oath.”

After a brief hesitation, Thorin inclined his head, permission and acceptance of whatever Dain intended. Fìli was certain Thorin was as unaware of what that might be as he himself was. Whilst Dain had been ready to concede the throne, and had even voiced his support against any opposition more than once, none of them had expected him to make a pledge of loyalty. Not after all he and his kin had suffered at the hands of Thror’s madness. Not when he still stood to lose everything if Erebor proved itself cursed still.

“I make no promise to blindly follow,” Dain began, his gaze never wavering from Thorin’s own, his words carrying the weight of the lord and leader he was. “Nor do I pledge my armies in defence of Erebor’s wealth. Those who stand here today in witness have seen firsthand that it is nothing worth spilling the blood of our kin to preserve. Instead, I pledge to defend that which has been all too easily abandoned in the past. That which we have set aside as unimportant in the face of bewitching rewards, forgetting too often that such things breed only a greater hunger that can never be satisfied. I will fight, shed blood, and die to protect those who dwell beneath the mantle of your protection; our kin, the greatest treasure Erebor will ever produce. For this, and this only, my ax is yours, King Beneath the Mountain, and it will serve you well for so long as you wield it only on the battlefield of righteousness.”

He trailed off, letting stillness settle in the air, and for a moment it hung over all, a mantle of trepidation and anticipation both. Fìli lifted his eyes from Dain’s blazing expression to watch his uncle, wondering how Thorin would receive such an oath. For a long moment, the king did nothing, simply sitting in place and watching the dwarf kneeling at the foot of the dais. Then, slowly, he rose, descending the steps to grasp Dain’s arm and pull him to his feet.

“There is no need to bow before me, cousin,” he repeated, laying a hand upon Dain’s shoulder. “I accept your oath as it has been given, and swear never to abuse the trust you have shown on this day. Erebor and the Iron Hills are sister nations as much as our forefathers were brothers, and I would see them restored to the friendship of the days of old.”

“They say bonds forged in the midst of adversary are the strongest.” Smiling in a manner that was both grim and yet also cautiously hopeful, Dain returned the hold. “We shall do better than the days of old, Thorin. We must.”

Nodding his solemn agreement, Thorin then lifted his head to gaze past the Lord of the Iron Hills, disbelief flitting briefly across his face as he spoke, “Lord Stormsword…”

The Firebeard had not ushered forth with an entourage, but instead had traversed the walkway alone, coming to stand beside his sister, who cast him a knowing glance. He said nothing at first, studying Thorin acutely, before nodding as if to himself.

“If this is the oath that is asked of us,” he said aloud. “Then I, too, am ready to swear allegiance to my king.”

Stepping away from Dain, Thorin stood before the bold dwarf lord, something like bemusement on his face. “You did not wish to be bound to a lord in such a fashion,” he reminded the Firebeard ruler.

“And I will not be,” Steinn said with a careless wave of one hand towards his brother-by-wed. “I am bound to protect my kin, both those of my clan, and those of yours. If ever an oath was spoken that would bind the Seven together again then this is it, and I will stand by it for as long as I do still live.”

There was nothing that Thorin could say to that, and so he merely reached out his hand, grasping Steinn around the forearm in a sign of a warrior’s respect. Fìli let out the breath he had been holding, relaxing a little in his seat as he realised the invisible battle that had just been won. Barriers had been torn down here, doors opened, and he found himself eager to discover what might yet lie on the other side.

A new future for Erebor, its people, and its King.

~The Heart of Erebor~

With oaths sworn and loyalty pledged, Thorin moved on to those who owed no such promises to the King Beneath the Mountain. Those who instead deserved to receive, a gesture of friendship and gratitude extended to the individuals who had done their part to make this day happen. Gold was, of course, the obvious gift of choice, and Kìli felt certain that many of those gathered half expected Thorin to simply shower their guests in riches and be done with it. A great deal more thought had been put into the matter than that, however, just as with the fate of the Arkenstone, and it was no gaudy wealth that was dragged out of overflowing chests when King Bard of Dale stepped forward to pay his respects.

Instead, the promise circumstances had meant Dain was unable to uphold was reaffirmed. The masons of Erebor would continue their work in restoring the city of Dale to its former magnificence, and the forges of the Lonely Mountain would be put to work in replacing the defensive armaments that had been destroyed when the dragon came. In return, Dale would once again call itself an ally to its neighbour, so that in due time the two kingdoms might return to the vision of united peace they had once been.

To Elrond of Rivendell, Thorin did grant gifts of gold and silver, though not in the form others might have expected. Many looked on in confusion as the Lord of Imladris was granted a small bounty of furnishings and silverware, whilst Kìli did his best to control the laughter trying to break free. He dared not look at Fìli, for fear seeing his brother’s face would break his fragile hold on his composure, and Thorin’s completely sober expression was not much better. Elladan and Elrohir did not seem to share his compunctions, exchanging an open grin behind their father’s back as he accepted Thorin’s generous gifts with all the grace and decorum his station demanded.

To the Rangers there was nothing that Thorin could give to truly repay the debt that was owed. They were a people in exile, a truer and harsher banishment than even Erebor had suffered, and neither gold nor trinkets would appease the hardships they faced day by day. Instead, all he could offer was the same boon that had been granted to him and his kin; aid, whenever and however they should need it. Narrán accepted the king’s pledge with his customary gruffness, and the resignation of one who knew that such aid, should it ever be called upon, would likely arrive too late to make a difference.

That thought was enough to stifle the smile still trying to find purchase on Kìli’s face. A stark reminder that, though their battles might now be behind them, there were still others in Middle Earth whose fate was less certain. Others who had helped them.

It troubled him that it should be so. That he had not realised it was so until that moment, as Narrán turned to walk away, Ana beside him. The only two who had answered the king’s summons. The only two the rangers had dared to spare, for theirs was an existence that teetered always on the brink, ready to tumble into the abyss at the slightest straying step. It was not right, it was not fair, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Fate may have chosen to favour the Line of Durin for the time being, but they could not force it to extend that goodwill to others, no matter how deserving they might be. Not… not now. But perhaps… perhaps someday… The thought did not have time to fully form, there were others who needed to be thanked, recognised, rewarded. Yet it stayed with him regardless, a lingering malaise that would not be swiftly banished. Not until he had found a way to overcome it.

Bilbo was the last to present himself before the throne, looking awkward and unsettled to be the centre of attention as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something, but did not know what that something might be.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin saved him the need, speaking first. “What gift would our burglar ask of the King of Erebor?” Warmly, he added, “You may name anything you wish, Bilbo, and it shall be yours.”

“Well,” Bilbo began nervously, his voice growing stronger as he went on, “I was rather hoping, if it is not too much trouble, that we might take a break for a bite to eat?”

His words were met by a roar of approval by all who were within earshot, the sound echoing uproariously through the vast chamber. Thorin waited patiently until the noise had subsided, a faint smile playing about his lips, and spoke only once all was settled again.

“That, Master Baggins,” he said. “I believe we can do.”

 ~The Heart of Erebor~

With her part in Thorin’s coronation complete, Dìs had not waited to witness what followed. It was not in her nature to sit still whilst there was work yet to be done, and the celebration banquet could hardly be expected to ready itself. She was not alone either, for Bombur joined her not long after, Bifur and Bofur in tow, to take on the monumental task of ensuring all the food he had prepared was laid out as it should be. Confident he had it well in hand, Dìs left him to his appointed duty, drifting instead about the Great Hall, making certain that all the seating arrangements were correct, that none had been overlooked, and that nothing might yet occur to throw a dampener upon the festivities.

In truth, there was very little left to do. They had had months to prepare for this day, and though ill health had harried her more than she would have liked she had been able to keep a steady hand on the rudder throughout. That did not stop her from feeling as though she had forgotten something now, a nagging sense of restlessness that saw her circling the room again and again, Inga a patient pace behind, seeking out whatever had been mislaid. There was nothing that she could see, however, and she came to a halt in the middle of the room, hands on her hips as she huffed in frustration.

“Is something wrong, my lady?” Inga, never prone to voicing her concerns, clearly thought better of it now, her soothing tones echoing slightly in the empty hall. Dìs frowned, wishing she could give her oldest friend an answer. At least one she could be certain was truthful.

“I do not know,” she admitted at last, turning in a slow circle, as if the wrongness would leap out at her of a sudden and announce itself to all the world. “Something is missing.”

“Aye,” Inga agreed quietly. “Many are.”

Dìs froze, understanding threatening to floor her as Inga’s simple words explained the absence she had felt ever since setting foot in this room. She had not expected it to hit her so suddenly, so unexpectedly after all these years. The quest to reclaim the mountain had brought a multitude of old memories back to the forefront of her mind, of Frerin, of Nali. She had felt anew in many ways the pain of their loss, but she had thought those ghosts laid to rest along with the Arkenstone. That was what the ceremony of remembrance had been for, yet it was only now that the empty spaces they had left behind reached out to draw her in.

Standing in the heart of her old home, in a room prepared for celebration but yet still devoid of it, it was so easy to imagine them both where they should have been. Frerin, seated at a table surrounded by a crowd of listeners as he regaled them with some fantastical tale of might and magic, using his spoon as a sword whilst warier hands snatched laden platters away from the reach of his swing. Nali, flitting here and there about the room, soothing over any discordance, tripping over any feet, his light laughter easily heard even above the din of the gathering. She could picture it so clearly in her mind’s eye and it made her chest ache, a foreign lump lodging in her throat and refusing to be moved as her eyes burned with the threat of unshed tears.

She chastised herself even as she lifted a hand to dash away the moisture building at the corner of her eyes. This was meant to be a happy occasion, a joyous day for her family. Yet, reminding herself it was so did not stop the grief she felt in that moment, more poignant than any she had felt in a long, long while. Standing silently at her side, Inga raised a hand to lay upon her arm, gently guiding her away from the larger chamber and into one of the adjoining rooms, where her sorrow could remain yet a private thing. Her loyal companion hesitated a moment, then, a rare flash of uncertainty darting across her face, before she dipped her head in a quick bow and excused herself from the room.

Dìs barely noticed her departure, lost in a maelstrom of emotions she had not seen coming as she wrapped her arms about herself and tried to command her pain to be gone. It did not obey her, enraged like a caged beast at last set free, railing its defiance, screaming its fury. She wanted to scream herself, and nearly did in surprise when another voice broke through her misery.

“They are with us still.”

She had not heard Thorin enter and she whirled, knowing he should not be here, prepared to rebuke him for abandoning his duties without good cause. The words died in her throat as she laid eyes on the crown resting across his brow, an old wound torn open anew, and a sob took their place. Thorin closed the distance between them at once, his expression soft as only she and her children had ever seen it as he gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. She allowed it without complaint, for once not feeling the need to struggle and fight, to gather the strength to keep pushing forward and drag him with her when the shadows clung too tight.

“They should have been here,” she whispered against his shoulder, feeling his hand pass over her hair, careful not to tangle in the delicate mesh entwined in her golden locks. That was another gift, another keepsake she would hurl willingly into the deepest pits of Middle Earth if it meant she could speak again with the one whose hands had done the crafting. “How can it be home without them?”

“Dìs…” Thorin sighed softly, his breath ghosting over her as his hold briefly tightened. “My dear, brave little sister.”

“I am afraid,” she retorted harshly, denying what she knew was his unfaltering faith in her strength. She had been strong through every hardship, every tragedy, every blow meant to lay her low. But the fight was over now, over and done, and she just wanted to break. “I am afraid that this will all be taken away, and I can’t lose anymore, Thorin. I can’t.”

“I know.”

Thorin’s grip was one of reassurance now, of empathy. He had shared in so many of her sorrows, had watched as every small comfort they managed to eke from a cold and harsh world was stripped away from them, and he understood, at least in part, the horror she had faced in thinking her children dead, even for as short a time as it had been. Neither of them trusted to good fortune any more. Though it might have been kind to them of late, they knew all too well how swiftly the tides could turn. She could see that truth in his eyes as she pulled back enough to meet his gaze, but there was something else as well, a fathomless calm that grasped her and held her steady despite how she wanted to waver; a promise.

“I will not lie to you, Dìs,” he stated, his words still soft, still gentle even as he smiled ruefully. “And not simply because you will know any falsehood I tell you for what it is at once. We have fought a great many battles to make it this far, and the fight is not over yet. Others may still try to take this from us, evil may still lurk in the shadows. Even now, we are not safe. We never will be. But we do have each other, Dìs, and we will face whatever may come side by side.”

“You know all that means is we will die together like fools,” she uttered the grim thought aloud without taking the time to check her tongue, too weary to care as she lowered her head to rest against his shoulder once more.

Thorin’s soft chuckle vibrated through his chest as he chided her, “Such dreary words are my domain, sister.”

“Ah, yes. My apologies, oh wise king. I did not mean to overstep.”

Thorin hummed his dubious acknowledgement of her insincere words, but he did not speak again, content to linger in silence for as long as that was what she needed. It amused her slightly that they had changed places so seamlessly, even as a quiet corner of her mind not wholly drowning beneath the onslaught of her sudden grief noted with pride the strength her brother seemed to have drawn from the day’s events. For as long as he had been assailed by doubt, it did her heart good to find him steady once more, a wall against which she could break without fear she would send them both scattering.

Sensing her slight change of mood, Thorin withdrew a step to look her in the eye as he asked, “Are you ready?”

“No,” she answered truthfully, taking the arm he offered regardless. “I will never be ready to face this world without them.” He nodded his understanding, her own grief reflected back at her in his eyes as he simply waited for her to continue. She drew in a fortifying breath, and then rewarded his patience, “But we are of the Line of Durin, and that duty comes first.” She let herself smile, then, though it hurt to do so, reminding herself of what she still had left. "Before two errant young princes start a war in the Great Hall."

"I do not mind," Thorin admitted. "So long as they win."

#The Hobbit Fanfiction #The Heart of Erebor #Thorin Oakenshield #Kili #Fili #Dain Ironfoot #Dis #Dwarves #Coronation #Return to Erebor #The King Beneath the Mountain #Victory #Fix-it #AU #Ensemble fic #Bilbo Baggins #Angst #Hurt/Comfort

[docandprof]

In Which I Celebrate an Anniversary, Camp, and Move; in that order.

Ho sailor!

No need to apologize for your lateness, we’ll both just have to try and be better. If it makes things easier, if we start posting more often, the posts (maybe) won’t be as long - hah! I know it’s only been a few posts each since our return, but I’ve been enjoying writing out my thoughts, and you asked for word vomit this week so be prepared for the worst. Also my wireless keyboard is pretty spotty. It wiill laag, add extra letters, and otherwise test my patience, so if eventually I get tired of correcting it, apologies! I’m thinking I’ll buy a nice keyboard soon. Now I’ll get on with it!

Thank you for sharing your thoughts about the wedding. I’m glad you were able to enjoy it and hope everyone is able to stay safe and healthy in these troubling times when I can’t help but worry about it. I’ve been to many of my cousins’ weddings, which have been nice, but I can’t imagine the weirdness that will be the first of my friends’ weddings! It sounds like you had a lot of fun though, and had some good emotional experiences - just what weddings are for. We’ve got a pretty big group from back home to look forward to celebrating with - hopefully we can all space them out evenly heheh. You are right that love is beautiful and should be celebrated. It’s funny, just yesterday, August 3, was actually a Nerdfighteria holiday to celebrate familial and friendly love specifically - Esther Day. I think it’s come up in the group before, but check it out if you’re interested. I may be a day late on it, but I love you and value all the laughs and joys you’ve brought to my life from the moment we became side-pockets! 

I think your motivation to start practicing what you preach about relationships is wonderful! Admittedly, I have felt more distant to you during college than I would have liked. Obviously its a two-way street, and things aren’t helped by the geographic distance, but this blog is a good way to open those lines again. Your words and commitment to our friendship made me emotional when I read it so thanks a lot for that! I do want to be a best friend to you that you can open up to and share all your deepest darkest secrets so I can sell them to information brokers in exchange for cryptocurrency. In all seriousness, I do want to deepen our friendship, as I have felt like there wasn’t quite a wall, but more so a fence between us - meaning just that there seem to be things that we just don’t talk about. You know Lyss is my best woman (friend), and even with the metaphorical fence, you’re still my best man! We’ve just got some weird connection for both being so strange and nerdy, so let’s best friend it up!

Most recently I’ve been exceedingly stressed and busy. Work has been mostly good, until the errors of a past employee we had to let go catch up with the rest of the team, hindering their work, and causing us to need to delay our delivery. It’s not a huge deal because we’re working with a good client, but I can’t help but feel responsible for these setbacks. As the producer I should have been ready to predict this when we let this guy go, but I didn’t and now we’re dealing with the consequences. I don’t blame myself too much because I am new to the industry, so I’m trying to just take this learning experience and keep on marching on. I haven’t been looking for more work so much as holding out for a full time offer, so I’ll keep you posted. Besides work, Raquel and I got into our biggest argument yet which was awful. I won’t get into details, but I ended up going home so we could talk it out and we’re good now. Which is good since that was a week before our three year anniversary! I’m glad I went home to work things out because we had a great weekend out by me the next week. Had a lovely dinner outside at a great restaurant and we took some grad pics for me since I hadn’t done that, and I just printed them out and surprised my parents with them, and they loved it! It was a lot of fun to spend time with her and just celebrate our continued love. I don’t know what things will be like since we’ll be long distance for the forseeable future. I don’t think that truth has really hit me yet. I kind of just keep expecting her to move out here and we’ll be together, but that’s probably unrealistic! Anyways, we had a nice anniversary and I’m a lucky guy to have gotten back in her good graces after my big oof at the end of high school there. 

While home, I was also lucky enough to be able to camp out in Silbs’s backyard with the peeps which was really nice to see everyone again - wish you could have been there! I didn’t sleep well because camping and I’m a light sleeper, but there were also some famous chocolate chip cookies in attendance, so it was all worth it. Along with that, the niece and nephew spent the night at our house Saturday which was a crazy time. Lots of running and screaming. I went to bed early that night hah! It was good to see them - they recently got a new puppy and lil nephew has had two visits from the tooth fairy already! They’re getting so big! Another reason I was home was to get some things to move to a new apartment near work. My dad came up yesterday to help me move, and it was a long tiring day again. I’ve been here for a day now, and I think it will work out, but it was not easy to get to this point! Trying to find an affordable one-bed willing to do a month-by-month lease was not easy, but I ended up renting out the top of a duplex from a friend of one of my professors that I had tea with a couple weeks ago. My landlord has been pretty flexible and laid back so far which is appreciated. I’m all settled now (as you saw) and I think it’ll be nice for a while. 

Keep me posted on your Hinge adventures! As the saying goes “good things come to those who wait” so just keep that in mind - the right person for you will come along some day! I know there’s been a lot of maybes and what ifs the past year or so, but just don’t stop believin’ in love, baby. Also I hope we can get back to our DnD campaign soon! I miss you guys. I did listen to “A Love  Supreme,” and I’d say it was good. Different than even the jazz I usually listen to. I get the impression that like fine wine, that sort of jazz is an acquired taste. Makes me want to get back into being a musician! I’m thinking the harmonica? Answer: either as long as it’s a  pretzel. Question: what do you know about tri-color pasta? That was a lot to read, but thanks for sticking around. Take care and stay safe until next time!

Your Obedient Servant,

A. Ham