#lacuna shut up

[lonelyquail]

guy who's only listened to screamo trying to find other good metal bands: it's so weird how people keep recommending me hard rock

#vee shut up #Im Not Used To Listening To Metal I Can Feasibly Sing Along To. #the other thing is i keep stumbling across goth metal which doesnt even sound like hard rock to me #it just sounds like if bring me to life was more blasphemous #actually funny story my cousin was watching me play hellsinger during stygia an was like #(oh ive been looking for this type of music actually) #and my dumb ass took this as 'oh so you want more arch enemy!' when she meant she wanted more of that dualism metal #with a pretty singer And Screaming. she just happened to tune into the Only time alissa did that. #ok no handshake with hell and reason to believe did also but its not common #anyway i did kinda brainblast her with my ae playlist sorry cousin. i recommended her lacuna coil to make up for it.

[mazeruffleposts]

Hashira's React! Pt. 2

HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY!!! I wanted to do something for the Hashira, especially since I haven't written for them in a hot minute now. I do plan on making a Hashira's React! special for my birthday, even though it's already passed.

Content Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 2031 words

Proofread? No.

Hashira's React to Sweetheart!Reader surprising them on Valentine's Day! Reader surprises them with something nice that they have been planning for a while!

Lacuna- A blank space. Used in place of your name

GYOMEI

Gyomei is a simple man, he never would wish for anything fancy or over the top from you, his love. Though to be honest, the holiday still snuck up on him. He had been so busy leading up to it that it had slipped his mind.

Que to him spending most of the day traveling back home after a ridiculously long mission only to find that the house is damn near empty, save for the few attendants cleaning like all is normal. You are nowhere to be found.

He assumes that you were out doing something in the nearby town and didn't think much about it. He goes to the private bathroom you two share to freshen up.

About two hours or so later, he greets you at the door with a big ol' hug.

Insert surprise Pikachu face when you inform him you want him to follow. You lead him down the path leading to a small creek near the house.

There you set up a small picnic with his and your favorite foods. To top it all off you brought out a book that you had been interested in reading for a while, but put it off till you could spend time and read it to him. Knowing that he loves your voice.

"My dear Lacuna, you are a true blessing. There is no better gift you could have given me than your time and affection. I feel loved beyond words."

TENGEN (+ Hina, Suma, And Makio)

Tengen is a sucker for the dramatic! He loves to see what all his partners come up with for special occasions and will go out of his way to help when he can. Though he can't help but feel a little bummed to think you and the other wives haven't planned anything special this year. He took it as his chance to swoop you all up for a surprise trip somewhere. The four of you WERE planning something, and for once you were able to keep him from finding out about it beforehand.

He had recently been so busy with a rather nasty demon's nest a few districts over and hadn't been able to come home for a while. The letters you all sent never spilled anything about the surprise you all had.

After trudging back home over a few days flowers in hand for each of you, he finally stepped through the threshold of the house and was greeted with the sight of all four of his partners dressed in extravagant kimonos, hair done up, and bright smiles.

The Halls and rooms of your home had decorations ranging from hanging lights to written letters proclaiming various reasons why you all love one another. The aroma of the good food you all had been helping to prepare took him by surprise a bit.

"I honestly shouldn't be as surprised as I am to find you all did something so wonderful. My heart is bursting at the seems with how much I love you, thank you."

Que Tengen taking a moment to greet each of you with a hug and a plethora of kisses.

KYOJURO

You and the lovable Flame Pillar have been together for almost a year at this point, and Kyojuro has been counting down the days to do something special for you but ended up being surprised. Coming home after a surprise rescue mission with none of the gifts he planned to shower you in, he found the hallway leading through the house covered in various flower petals.

The savory smell of your cooking, which he swears is better than anything he has had, fills his senses as he follows the path you so obviously made for him.

Doesn't know what to think when he gets to the other side of the house and sees you set up a little date spot in the garden. You in your favorite yukata, surrounded by candles with that soft smile that just melts him.

Poor man's brain shuts off at the sight of you. He was rooted to the spot in pure awe of your beauty, never noticing how your melodic voice had been calling out for him to join till you walked over to him and waved a hand in front of his face.

The blush on his face when he realized he'd been staring made you giggle. He made up for the silence and oogling by swooping you into his embrace and kissing the crown of your head.

"I must truly be a blessed man... Coming home with nothing to give but my love, yet you welcome me with open arms. My dear Lacuna, you warm my heart more than the strongest fire ever could."

OBANAI

Isn't one for the dramatics or anything regarding the holiday, even after making you his. He wouldn't ever want you to do anything for him.

Similar to Sanemi, he's not fond of dramatics in relationships till he's in one with you. Now all of a sudden he finds himself panicking as he walks home late with nothing but a couple bentos with your favorite foods.

The entire walk to your shared estate consists of him kicking himself over waiting till the last minute and trying to convince himself that you won't be upset. He should have gotten you a plush bear or something.

You're waiting on the engawa before he even enters the estate grounds. You are dressed in a yukata to match his Haori, which he blushes profusely over but will never admit, and you hold what looks like a journal and a single red rose in your hands.

When he finally gets up to you, he's panicking, but nonetheless calms down when you greet him with open arms. Suddenly he's questioning why you would have been upset with him.

He does that adorable head tilt as you explain how you know he thought the holiday was stupid, but you still wanted to do something for him. Que handing him the journal and the rose, telling him that for the past few months, you've been writing letters about your daily life while he's away accompanied by small poems just for him.

Yeah, that blush has him feeling completely flustered now. You both eat the bentos on the engawa together as he reads the journal.

"My Lacuna, the love you continue to devote to me is truly special. I hope you know you are truly my everything, even when I don't say it."

MITSURI

Is much like both Kyojuro and Tengen. She's been counting down the days to plan something rather extravagant for you. But sometimes, the simple things mean so much more

Everything however seemed to be going wrong in every possible way. Not only did she burn the food she was trying to make for you ahead of the date she planned, she got called out to a mission the day of.

Now she's walking home late, wrapped up with nothing but herself to give you. Not that you would complain...

When you answer the knocks at the door, you find your girlfriend on the brink of tears. She doesn't even notice you dressed up in a silk Kimono, instead, she flings herself into your arms apologizing.

After a few moments of you comforting her, she finally takes a look down the hallway and into the main room when candles are lit.

Que surprised face when you tell her you had heard about the surprise mission and wanted to give her a good meal and warm bed to come home to. Now she's crying again and spinning you around out of pure joy as she tells you she'll make breakfast for you in the morning and spoil you.

"Lacuna, my love! I can never express how much I truly adore you! But I will try my best to shower you with it~"

SHINOBU

Isn't one for holidays, but was planning on doing something small for you. However, she ended up too busy to go through with it and was rather bummed.

An influx of slayers needing patching up plus a whole solo mission on the edge of her district took up the majority of the day and night for her. She was practically stomping her way up the path to the separate house you two share but was shocked to find you opening the door for her with a cup of warm tea held out.

Telling her that her crow informed you of the chaos and that it was alright. After taking the tea from you, you lead her down the hallways to the large private bathroom where you set up a whole ass spa just for her. To top it off, you said you bought her a new Kimono with Sakura blossoms embroidered on it to match the one you had on. Now her cheeks feel warm

She embraces you with the first genuine smile she's had all day.

"No matter the chaos of the day, there is nothing more that I enjoy than coming home to you. Well, besides your love, my dear Lacuna~"

GIYUU

Never really paid much attention to the holiday in the first place. So it ended up sneaking up on him and now he's panicking.

Spent most of the day training at his estate while you were out. Only remembered the holiday when he went to Kocho's that afternoon to do something.

However, it gave you ample time to set up your surprise for him.

Giyuu unfortunately didn't give you a whole lot of time before he came back, BUT you were able to set up the main room for a cuddle space.

Came in as you were setting up the snack stash and ended up staring at you as you rearranged the literal mountain of blankets and pillows to your liking.

Got spooked by you squealing as you turned around to him staring. Spent the next few minutes mentally banging his head on the wall because he should have said something.

Was genuinely surprised to hear that you had planned spending the night cuddling him and showering him with affection. Was also surprised when you brushed off the fact that he didn't have anything for you. He thought you'd be upset, but was shocked to hear that it wasn't required to gift you something, that all you wanted was him as himself.

"There's very little I could do to properly show how grateful I am to have you in my life, my Lacuna... Trust when I say you are a blessing to me."

SANEMI

Similar to both Giyuu and Obanai, he doesn't care for the holiday until it hits him smack dab in the face and now he's panicking trying to figure out what to do for you.

You were well aware of his dislike for the holiday but still wanted to do something to show your appreciation for the man. For the month leading up to the holiday you'd been sneaking small purchases and hiding them away in your shared home.

He had a feeling you were up to something but never could find anything out of the ordinary.

After a rather disappointing meeting with a few of the Hashira to discuss recent demon activity, he came home socially exhausted.

You met him at the door with a gift basket. Its contents are hidden by colored paper with a note attached. His name is written by your hand on it surrounded by various colored hearts.

Didn't know how to react when you practically shoved it in his hands. After a few minutes of convincing, you got him to read the small letter.

Big, bad, buff Sanemi Shinazugawa was on the verge of tears as he read the heartfelt confession you made him explaining all the things you loved about it. Did in fact shed a tear when you said you couldn't put everything on it that you wanted to say.

Opening the gift he found various homemade sweets, including Ohagi.

"My dove, you continue to shower me with love even when I feel undeserving of it. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you~"

You still managed to surprise him with matching Kimono's the next morning that he begrudgingly wore just for you.

Credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers used in this post. They are wonderful, go show them some love!!!

#demon slayer #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri x reader #gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader #obanai iguro #obanai x reader #kny x reader

[aloysiavirgata]

Thanks to @numinousmysteries for tagging me! I had never checked these stats before!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

92

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

484,620

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I’ve written for Hannibal, Battlestar Galactica, The Fall, and The X-Files, but only The X-Files at this point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Parting Glass (smut)

Animus Possidendi (dark smut)

The Common Fate of All Things Rare (casefile, cowritten)

Lacuna (casefile)

This Her Fever (cancer arc)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes and no. Not like I should. I am so deeply, truly grateful for every single one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, I killed William in Inhaling the Different Dawn, but that wasn’t at the end.

Maybe Where The Vines Cling Crimson? Scully’s cancer comes back and her fate is ambiguous. And I had Scully kill Emily in Alabaster Stones. But I think that was the right ending for both of them.

As a mother? A Basket of Reeds, where Scully gives William away. I can’t even reread it without a lump in my throat, man.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Tent of Shelter is fluffy and lovely gets a lot of love, and was inspired by a STUNNING manip by @avocadoave but I personally think In The Gale. It’s the one that, to me, feels the most like a grownup relationship of two people processing some trauma. I think that’s an ending that’s happy and also real - like “I don’t love being broken, but I can survive being broken with you.” Two abeyances that lean…

Foxfire for similar reasons. I real love that little story, which I wrote thanks to @perplexistan

I’m 43. I’ve been married for well over two decades and let me tell you that young love is a gift and mature love is a craft.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Some! And that’s really great too, that people read words I wrote and felt so passionately that they left me words about those feelings. What a strange but profound compliment!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do. PWP isn’t my personal taste so even though I wrote a LOT of smut for the old pornbattles at LJ I wanted the smut to still tell a story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I can’t say it’s especially crazy, but Fern Hill is a Mulder/Stella Gibson crossover. There are a few little ficlets with XF/Silence of the Lambs crossovers in my Inbox Prompts series.

Oh fuck! Wait! I wrote a Fall/Hannibal/XF crossover called Anthemoessa where Stella, Scully, and Bedelia all meet. Okay that’s it. That wins.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Years ago. God, isn’t that sad? To need positive reinforcement that much?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It was SUCH a compliment!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have - The Common Fate of All Things Rare

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mr. Virgata and me. Followed by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, who literally invented the word. ❤️

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Fisher King

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do pretty good banter and my education makes me pretty good at the sciencey bits.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I get too lost in descriptions and I try too hard to be clever. I do my best to self edit but sometimes I reread things and I’m like oh my GOD SHUT YOUR PRETENTIOUS ASS UP.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve done it for Bedelia and Hannibal in Italian. I’m not sure I understand the question?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

TXF, my one true love.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t know that I have a favorite per se. I am most proud of the ones that challenged me to do something outside my comfort zone. Samson is one of mytop fives even though it’s Mulder/Diana. I think I did a nice job. I also wrote Pair of Aces/Double or Nothing which is Scully/Byers.

But I do really love the world of Petrichor and Singing of Mount Abora, and I like the cases.

#tags #ao3 #writing memes

[eridanidreams]

Music Tag Game

Tagged by @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake

Caitlyn Lynch: Starfield OC, from my longfic stars without number like grains of sand

VNV Nation: Space and Time

Jeff Healey Band: Angel Eyes

Faith Hill: Breathe

Madonna: Crazy For You

Hybrid: Dreaming Your Dreams

VNV Nation: Before the Rain

Sixpence None the Richer: Kiss Me

Roxette: Listen to Your Heart

Alannah Myles: Love Is

Pentatonix: Mad World

Sara Bareilles: Not Alone

VNV Nation: Only Satellites

Shawn Colvin: Orion in the Sky

VNV Nation: Perpetual

Rush: Prime Mover

B-52's: Roam

VNV Nation: Rubicon

Heart: These Dreams

Cyndi Lauper: Time After Time

Rush: Time Stand Still

Cyndi Lauper: True Colors

Katrina and the Waves: Walking On Sunshine

Mr. Mister: Broken Wings

Police: Every Little Thing She Does is Magic

Sloane Delacourt: Deus Ex OC, from my longfic The Odysseus Gambit

The Cruxshadows: Winter Born

Duran Duran: Wild Boys

The Sweet: Ballroom Blitz

Gavin Rossdale: Adrenaline

Breaking Benjamin: I Will Not Bow

Hozier: Arsonist's Lullabye

Chris Cornell: 'Til The Sun Comes Back Around

Walk the Moon: Shut Up and Dance

VNV Nation: Nemesis

Genesis: Land of Confusion

Paul Oakenfold: If you're Gonna Jump

AC/DC: If You Want Blood

AC/DC: Shoot to Thrill

Metallica: One

David Bowie: Cat People

No Doubt: (I'm) Just A Girl

VNV Nation: Tomorrow Never Comes

VNV Nation: In Defiance

Sinead O'Connor: My Own Woman

Powerman 5000: Drop the Bombshell

Iron Maiden: Where Eagles Dare

Iron Maiden: The Trooper

Black Sabbath: War Pigs

Motorhead: Ace of Spades

Letters to Cleo: I Want You To Want Me

Pat Benatar: Love is a Battlefield

Johnny Cash: God's Gonna Cut You Down

Bishop Brigg: White Flag

The Score: Bulletproof

Heart: Alone

Aviators: Bad Luck

AC/DC: War Machine

AC/DC: Guns for Hire

AC/DC: Fire Your Guns

AC/DC: Dogs of War

Audioslave: Sound of a Gun

Billy Joel: Code of Silence

Bonnie Raitt: I Will Not Be Broken

Everybody Loves an Outlaw: Give 'Em Hell

Front Line Assembly: Killing Grounds

Hybrid: If I Survive

KMFDM: HELL YEAH

Lacuna Coil: Save Me

Megadeth: Peace Sells

P!nk: Trouble

Rage Against the Machine: Killing in the Name

Roxette: Dangerous

VNV Nation: All Our Sins

Breaking Benjamin: So Cold

#music tag game #starfield #deus ex #starfield oc #deus ex oc #playlist #music #my age is showing

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @ahordeofwasps.

My words to find were never, night, nail, & need.

Passing the (optional) tag to @theimperiumchronicles, @sarahlizziewrites, @druidx, @blind-the-winds, and the usual open tag to anyone else who wants to join in.

Your words to find shall be muscle, morning, matter, & message.

Never: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She waits a second for any objections and then places her palm on the bare skin between his shoulder blades.  He’s warm.  She feels the surrounding muscles reflexively tense on contact and then slowly relax.  He’s all muscle beneath the robes, but it feels different from what she’s felt through Eris’s tank tops when pulled into an embrace.  Leaner.  Less bulk but still toned.  She’s heard of mages tapping into their own metabolism for fueling magic to burn excess fat and retain figures in defiance of diet, but that doesn’t build muscle mass.  The skin on his back and arms doesn’t look like it could ever be anywhere near as sickly pale as hers is, but it is noticeably lighter than his hands and face, even accounting for makeup.  She wonders when the last time was that he wore anything with short sleeves.  Does he even have other clothes?  She’s never seen him wear anything else.  

Still less distracting without the robe on than with.  Probably says more about her than him.  Do all wizard robes on Orthon look like sleek dresses with wide sleeves, or is it just because he copied his mentor’s style?

Night: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

“No vertigo, nausea, or other adverse reactions to the counterseal,” Ashan reports once he and his double return to Lacuna.  “This illusion feels as natural to create and control as my conjurations.”  He glances over at said illusion practically bouncing up and down in excitement.  “Well, almost as natural.  Thank you, truly.”

With those last words Ashan lightly puts a hand on Lacuna’s shoulder.  When his double tries to do the same it passes through her slightly and becomes both there and not there to her vision, like an object only visible through one eye.

“You’re wel- whoa, that’s weird,” Lacuna stumbles her words in surprise.

Ashan pulls his hand back with a puff of exhalation and the illusion throws its head back in silent laughter.

“Ah.  My apologies.  Illusions can be like that when exposed for what they are.”

“It’s fine.  Kind of cool actually.  Do they normally reflect the caster’s emotions like that too?  That’s not something I’ve read about.”

Ashan’s reflection has just enough time to blush hard enough to be seen through the perfect makeup before flickering out of existence.

“Merely a random aberration born from tiredness, I am sure,” the real Ashan says coolly and evenly.  “It must be well after midnight by now.”

“Sure it is.” Lacuna grins and chooses not to poke more fun at the matter.  “Let’s call it a night.  Morning?  Whatever.  Either way, I think we can call this experiment a resounding success.  What do you say?”

“Indeed,” Ashan agrees.

Nail: Empty Names - 9 - Test Run

Just a little further to climb.  Not a bad warmup for her, really.  As long as she’s burning Sullivan’s money, maybe she should add a rock wall to her equipment request along with the other training gear. 

One more stretch.  Grab the main pole of the bowsprit.  Heave.  Swing herself up.  Nail the landing.  Dust off her hands.  Nearly lose her balance when she hears Sullivan slow clapping and sees the others already on the deck.

“What the Hell?”

“I conjured a ramp,” Ashan says matter-of-factly. 

Of course he did.

Need: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She bends over to use the keyboard and mouse, foregoing sitting down for fear of not wanting to get back up again.  She stops the recordings and takes a brief glance at compiled readouts.  Nothing catches her eye as out of the ordinary, but she’ll need to check it again in the morning when she’s more awake.  She shuts down the test chamber, starts to shut down the computer, and then remembers she forgot to check her email all day.  Nothing urgent, thankfully, but there’s an unexpected message from RevaTech asking if she’d be interested in scheduling an interview and reconsidering working for them.  Weird.  Maybe someone from her old team heard it had taken her a while to find a new job?

She nearly deletes the email but then thinks better of it, flagging and archiving it instead.  Not that she has any intention of leaving where she is now.  Still… It’d be a heck of a coincidence, but with what she gathered yesterday evening and this morning over breakfast about Sullivan and Road looking into something involving robots, it couldn’t hurt to keep open as an avenue to explore later.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #tag game #writing tag games #find the word tag #manuscript search tag #empty names

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 16; free ice cream

✧.* featuring kyle and yn walking to an unknown (and probably fine, totally not murderous) location : ̗̀➛ notes - here's your daily reminder to why i don't write serious things lmao tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

Kyle didn’t tell me where we were going. 

“We’re going to talk to the doctor.” He’d say as if it weren’t the most infuriatingly cryptic thing ever. What kind of superhero noir film does he think we’re in?

Rule number 1 is don’t follow men into unknown dark places. Granted, the men in those situations are built like a Jostar and super scary. Compared to that, Kyle is more of a pomeranian off his leash. I could tell him that Donald Glover leaves Community in the fifth season and he’d be out of commission for long enough to kick his lanky legs and take him down. 

Why are we thinking about the specifics of physically restraining our friend?

You can never be too prepared.

Now you’re being cryptic. We aren't even in a sketchy area. Isn’t that literally craig’s house?

My focus returned to my surroundings as I noticed the houses lining the street. I’d only seen craig’s house once when Butters shared a picture of a bear standing in his driveway, thinking it was a dog, but that was enough to solidify the house to memory. 

Without realizing, my steps slowed as I became lost in my thoughts again. 

I’m in the neighborhood where Craig’s family lives. Clyde told me he lived in the same neighborhood with the guys for most of their life. That means Kyle probably lives in the same neighborhood too. Kyle knows about Butters.

And we’re diving in this hole, WHY?

Shut up, I’m onto something... I think.

Kyle knows about Butters. Butters is Chaos. We’re in Craig’s neighborhood. Craig. Butters. Kyle. Superheroes. Craig. Fucking SUPER CRAIG. 

Holy shit. I forgot about Super Craig.

“KYLE!” I snapped back to reality. Kyle had gotten a half a block ahead of me. When he turned back, his own nervous gaze met mine. He held up a finger to his lips, gesturing to the dark street as a reminder that this isn’t the place to shout this late at night. 

I pressed my lips together to hopefully hold back any other impulsive shouts and speed walked to catch up with him. 

“Kyle we’re so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it-” Kyle cut off my rambling.

“What? Is something wrong?” He asked, voice matching my own panic as his nerves bounced off of mine. 

“Of course something is wrong. Craig’s a superhero too! Don’t you see it?” I asked, looking up at Kyle. Panic radiated off both of us, air growing electric as our thoughts bounced off of each other in a silent amplification of anxiety.

Kyle opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He paused, then closed his mouth, swallowing the words. He turned away from me, continuing down the sidewalk as though I didn’t just drop a friendship altering bomb.

“Come on, we’ve got to get to Timmy’s house.” Kyle said over his shoulder, turning to walk up the steps of a house at the end of the block. 

Who the fuck is timmy?

"Are we not going to address this? Or do I only get one theory confirmed every 24 hours?" I questioned, jogging to catch up with Kyle on the doorstep.

He didn't look in my direction. Instead he rung the doorbell and kept his eye trained on the entryway. "All of the above."

“This free ice cream better come with a month of therapy after this bullshit.” I muttered to myself as the door swung open revealing him. The one who is meant to answer all of my questions. The one who had the power to keep Kyle Broflovski silent.

Dr. Timothy.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

#next chapter is text so dont worry if you hate these #i have another story idea for after this that'll be more written oriented so pls lmk if you like this style!! #welcome back to the channel #south park smau #south park x reader #south park #corporatefrog #tfbw #sp tfbw #the fractured but whole

[rayneydays]

very late gustholomule week drabble

_

Little human children giggled behind their hands at the sight before them, Gus couldn’t help but do the same.

They didn’t visit the public pool often. However, as witches crossed over more, Gus, as past captain of the HAS, wanted his friends to enjoy all aspects of human culture. Including the figurative and potentially literal cesspool of splashing toddlers and probably-pee infested water.

Plus, to Gus’ joy, one of those friends didn’t learn how to swim. And the beach, with its aggressive waves that even knocked Willow over, probably wouldn’t be the best place to learn. So he took it upon himself to teach Matt. He was so generous, really.

”Your parents really never took you to Lake Lacuna?” the question had been on the tip of his tongue when he first found out. But there was always a certain look when Matt got upset, genuinely upset. Faraway eyes and pinched upturned brows that made Gus feel something.

But just like he was with illusions, Matt was a quick learner, and Gus was a fabulous teacher if he did say so himself.

When they got the basics down, he retreated to sit on the edge, letting Matt practice with Vee.

Gus kicked his feet, watching the pool water ripple. It was such a bright blue. Did chlorine do that? What was chlorine anyway?

He looked up, biting back a laugh at Matt doggy paddling awkwardly under Vee’s guidance.

Anticipation simmered in his gut.

He looked at Matt, all toothy grins and bangs plastered to his forehead. He looked happy.

Gus wanted that look all to himself. And once Matt was skilled enough, he’d have it.

-

It was a pretty long ride to the beach in Conneticut, but Gus knew of another place. During their initial time on the human realm, on days he needed alone, he’d walk off.

After being gone for hours, Gus would return with a clearer head and a new secret destination all to himself. At least, until now.

Matt blinked slowly as sun hit him right in the eye. Gus brushed tree branches aside, revealing the edge of a cliff. He looked down with a grin.

“Woah,” Matt said faintly.

”I know, right? isn’t it cool?” The lake below them was a deep sea green, the sun making it sparkle in their eyes.

”It’s … okay.”

”Don’t lie.”

Gus dropped his bag, shoving it underneath a bush and kicking off his shoes, Matt followed. The two eased closer to the edge, Matt slowing a bit.

The cliff was pretty tall, but not enough that the fall hurt, the illusionist figured.

“This is safe, Augustus?” Matt’s voice voice was hesitant, however he was quick to deflect. “I don’t want you getting hurt, you’re so frail.”

”I’m bigger than you.”

”Taller,” Matt corrected, “whose job is literally construction ergo lifting heavy shit all the time?” he flexed his muscles for emphasis, and Gus had to feign disgust.

”You mainly draw the crap, and make Kikimora do all the work,” he snapped back, a light blush tinging his ears.

Matt grumbled a bit, crossing his arms as he looked over the edge.

“You swear it doesn’t boil?”

“I swear.”

“On King’s dad?”

“On King’s dad, dude.”

Gus grabbed Matt’s shoulders, hugging him loosely. Upon being drawn into the false sense of security, Matt begrudgingly nodded.

”You remember to hold your nose?”

”Yeah - but,” Gus cut him off quickly, dirt scuffled underneath their feet as Gus pushed - pushed -

A girlish shriek the constructionist would deny later.

“What the fuck!”

The two tumbled off the cliff in a gaggle of tangled limbs and held noses, the air ripping through them.

Matt yelled all the way down, clinging to him with wide, angry eyes.

Gus took back his previous assessment on it not hurting to hit the water. It was like a cold smack to the face. They detached as they sank, clawing to the surface. Gus gulped up air, skin prickly as goosebumps formed. The water was so much colder in the human realm …

”Matty?” he called as he breached the surface, eyes still shut tightly. At the lack of response, a bit of panic flared. “Matt?”

”Hold your nose.”

Gus gasped as he was pushed back under water, swallowing lake water as he sputtered for oxygen. After the blatant assassination attempt on Matt’s part, Gus had to enact revenge. They continued to splash and chase each other for almost an hour.

His legs shook from exertion as they swam for a nearby rock. He glared in envy as Matt hoisted himself on the boulder like it was nothing, like really, where was that twig packing the muscle?

Matt yanked Gus up by the back of his tank top so he could flop beside him on the rough surface, gasping.

”Weak, nerd.”

”Shut up.”

Matt looked around. The lake was encased in a woodlands, the land sloped upward to be a mountain. There were a couple lower ledges that Gus would originally jump into the lake from, as he worked his way up to the highest one.

“You didn’t even jump from that before making me do it? What if there was rocks or something?” Matt cried. “I could’ve died!”

”I’ve swam this lake plenty of times, there aren’t rocks.”

”We’re sitting on a rock, you dumb fuck.”

Gus promptly shoved the boy off the edge, taking great satisfaction in Matt’s flailing limbs.

As Matt drowned beside him, Gus tugged idly on his hair. It was a good thing wash day was coming up.

It was another hour before they made their way back up the mountain, which, in hindsight was a lot harder barefoot, but Gus still thought it was worth it.

Too tired to hold an argument, they murmured amongst each other quietly, bumping shoulders and brushing hands.

Gus shivered, only partially from the cold.

They arrived back at Camilla’s as the sun came down. Thankful that she allowed them to stay the night, they trekked to the basement.

Camilla came down to call them for dinner, only to find them tangled together still in their swim trunks.

She smiled, and flicked the light off before retreating back upstairs.

-

“Did you put on any sunscreen?” Camilla gasped in horror at the angry, red flaking skin of Matt’s shoulders.

”I did!” he shouted back, shoulder’s bunched up, “ .. Ms. Noceda,” he added hastily.

Matt hissed as Gus pumped aloe vera over the irritated skin, rubbing it in weakly. When Camilla excused herself to find more healing ointment, Gus smacked the skin lightly.

”Ow! Augustus!” Matt reached behind him blindly to hit Gus.

”Does it hurt?”

”What do you think, prodigy?”

Gus laughed quietly, muttering an apology as he massaged the aloe vera into Matt’s shoulder blades. On autopilot, he leaned forward, head darting down to press a brief kiss to his shoulder.

”I’m sorry, Matty.”

He peeked at Matt’s face hesitantly, silently hoping the red adorning his face wasn’t just because of the sunburn.

#gustholomule #mattholomule #gus porter #the owl house

[hmslusitania]

All I do is keep the beat in bad, bad company

The prompt: “We’re neighbours and you keep me up every night talking on the phone, who the hell are you talking to and will you please shut the hell up”

The outcome: a buddie college AU, somehow?? Rated M for "I could not keep the profanity off the page"

If the off-campus apartments weren’t way, way cheaper than the dorms, Eddie would retreat. The shitty little studio he’s found is just so cheap it has to be worth it though.

Worth the fucking neighbour.

Who, coincidentally, happens to do a lot of that.

The bedsprings on the other side of the wall squeak with an undeniable rhythm and Eddie considers earplugs, but it’s almost two in the morning and the earplugs are in his truck because he needs them for his on-campus job. If he gets the earplugs out now, and then forgets them in his apartment, he’ll be miserable tomorrow at work.

Of course, he’ll also be miserable tomorrow at work if he doesn’t get any sleep because of his fucking neighbour.

His decision is made for him when there’s a few minutes of blessedly silent lacuna and then it starts again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie grumbles, grabbing his keys and stalking out to the parking lot.

He glowers at the closed door of 106 while he heads to his truck. His earplugs aren’t in the glove compartment where he normally keeps them, he learns to his horror after a minute of digging past registration and spare boxes of screws and one rechargeable battery for various power tools that he probably shouldn’t have.

He fishes in the centre console next, disgorging a few spare phone chargers and a protein bar he’d half eaten and then forgotten about, but no little plastic case with earplugs. He remembers then, to his dismay, that he’d left the earplugs at work specifically so that he would always have them.

While he despairs for his sanity thanks to his own over-preparation, the door to apartment 106 opens.

The girl – woman – who comes out of it isn’t the type Eddie would’ve expected unless he was making bad stereotypes about librarians. Like, sure, she’s tall and kind of willowy and has long strawberry hair, but her glasses look like they came right from the ’80s and she’s wearing full length overalls. While Eddie stays sitting in the passenger seat of his own truck and staring like a ghoul, she blows a kiss at the guy who actually lives in 106 who’s hidden from Eddie’s view by the door, heads to a small blue car parked on the street, and vanishes.

Eddie considers this development, and then cautiously abandons his truck for the safety of his apartment. Which, blessedly, is now quiet. He falls asleep with the pillow squished over the side of his face anyway, just in case.

Keep Reading

#the ghost ship scribbles #the ghost ship celebrates #9-1-1 #911fic #buddie #buddie fic

[super-ion]

Ion & Emily - First Date

(master post)

This one's the final episode of the "How it All Started" arc:

How it All Started

First Night Out

~~~

"Okay, but like the portals with the tentacles. How is that not hot?"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Harper, I thought we were talking about costumes."

"Hotness is about presence," Harper argued.

"And Ion doesn't have presence?"

"I guess… but she's only ever fought Jackrabbit. That's like fighting a plastic bag. Talk to me after she takes on Umbra, then we can compare notes… Oh hey, your girlfriend is here, we can ask her."

Emily looked up to see Jen and she felt her face heat slightly.

"She's not my girlfriend," she hissed. 

"Not with that attitude, she isn't," Harper whispered. "Tell you what, we'll have her settle this, if she picks Ion, you have to give her your number."

Oh… the last thing Emily needed was her coworker trying to meddle in her love life.

"Harper, no-"

"Hi, Jen!" Harper said cheerily. "Emily and I were just having a debate and we were hoping you could weigh in. Who's hotter, Lady Lacuna or Ion?"

Jen squeaked and stumbled as she approached the counter.

"I'm going to murder you," Emily said under her breath, but Harper ignored her.

"Personally, I'm a fan of Lady L, but Emily's fully on board the Ion train."

"Y-you think Ion is hot?" she mumbled.

Emily glanced up from Jen's coffee. It might have been her imagination, but Jen almost seemed to be studying her curiously.

"Yeah," Emily sighed. "I like how she does things."

"You like how she targets big banks and corrupt politicians, we're talking about hotness," Harper argued.

"Didn't you just say hotness was about presence?" Emily shot back. "Also, Ion is unapologetically queer."

"Okay yeah, she does have that going for her," Harper admitted. "So who's it gunna be, Jen?"

Jen shot a panicked look between the two of them. 

"I… uh…"

"You don't need to answer," Emily said. "She's being nosy."

Jen relaxed slightly at that.

God, how could someone be so awkwardly cute? Emily thought to herself.

Fine.

Before she could second guess herself, Emily popped the cap off her pen and scribbled something extra on Jen's cup. She set it down on the counter and put on her brightest smile which wasn't hard around Jen.

"Here you go," she said. "Have a great day Jen."

Jen picked up the cup and her eyes grew improbably wide. They darted between the string of digits on the cup and Emily's face. Even as her face grew beet red, the corners of her lips quirked into the tiniest goofy smile.

"I… thanks… um… you too!"

She turned, blushing and fled the cafe.

"Oh my god!" Harper said giddily. "Did you really-"

"Shut it, Harper," Emily replied, unable to keep her own smile off her face.

***

It was… not quite a great day for Emily. She genuinely liked working at the cafe, she liked watching normal people just doing normal people things. The problem was, some normal people were assholes. For whatever reason, the rest of the day had just been a relentless string of one entitled customer after another.

She was tired. She just wanted to collapse at home and watch something mindless. But of course she had to stop at the ATM, which meant she was right outside the bank when half a dozen cop cars swarmed in, screeching to a halt around her.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she muttered. She glanced at the machine which still held her card captive. Yeah… she wasn't getting it back now. 

Before she could move to evacuate the premises, one of the windows of the bank exploded outward and a black clad figure tumbled out. The figure staggered to her feet and brushed the glass off her. Emily found herself staring at the form fitting costume, black and glowing green and shining chrome.

Ion.

Oh my god, she's hotter in person, Emily thought.

Ion looked up and froze as she saw the assembled police cars. For the tiniest moment, Emily saw a flicker of very real fear on her face.

Fights between supers were usually fought with a certain expectation of professional courtesy. In general, that expectation did not extend to cops, especially for an openly trans supervillain who already had a record of exposing police misconduct.

That was probably the main reason why Emily was not at all surprised by what happened next. It was also mostly why she didn't try to resist… mostly.

Ion was suddenly behind her, one arm wrapping across Emily's shoulders and mechanical limbs looming menacingly over her.

"I'm really sorry about this," Ion murmured in her ear. "Do you consent to being taken hostage and/or being used as a human shield?"

"Uh… yeah, sure," Emily replied. "But you should probably be aware-"

"Talk later. Hold on tight."

Alright then. This was happening. Emily knew that when a super told you to hold on tight, you had better do it quickly and without question. Something unfolded from Ion's backpack and emitted a low humming that Emily recognized as gravimetric repulsors spinning up. She tightened her grip and they shot into the sky.

"Oh shit!" Ion shouted. "Shit shit shit!"

They were going very high, very fast. Ion was clearly not used to passengers. For a horrible moment they started tumbling before the wings flared with a groan and they slowed to a hover high above the city.

"Sorry," Ion said sheepishly. "These are new. I'm still getting used to them."

"Wait," Emily replied. "Have you ever actually flown before?"

Ion offered an embarrassed smile before they rocketed forward towards the river. She brought them to an apparently abandoned warehouse by the docks, and they descended through a broken skylight as the floor opened to  reveal a subterranean landing pad.

They set down gently and the ceiling slid closed above them ominously.

Ion sighed and raised her hands to her face to remove her mask. Emily cleared her throat and Ion spun, looking surprised that she still had a hostage. She blinked her luminous green eyes a few times and something like recognition flashed across them.

"O-oh," she said. "Right. Hostage."

Emily narrowed her eyes. There was definitely something familiar about Ion that she couldn't quite place.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked.

Ion blanched and straightened.

"No. I've never met you before in my life," Ion lied.

Okay, that was honestly fair, given that she was a supervillain. However, all Ion had accomplished was convince Emily that she was a riddle to solve.

"You've never kidnapped anyone before, have you?"

"I have… not," Ion admitted.

Emily suppressed a laugh.

"Okay, so you're probably going to want to lightly restrain me. Maybe that chair over there? Do you have any rope?"

"I… do."

Ion darted over to a set of drawers and proudly produced a spool of rope. Emily seated herself in the chair and attempted to get comfortable.

Emily, what the hell are you doing?? she asked herself as she looked expectantly at Ion.

"Is this alright?" Ion asked as she wound the rope around Emily.

"Yeah, you're doing great," Emily replied as part of her tried to ignore the fact that she was presently living out one of her fantasies. Another, louder part of her was relishing it.

"So…" Emily said to break the awkward silence. "You should probably know that there's a good chance Umbra is going to be coming to rescue me."

Ion fumbled the knot she was working on.

"Just thought you should get a heads up," she continued. "And if you wanna record it or anything, can you please blur my face before releasing any of the footage?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Ion replied.

Then after a moment, "Why Umbra? Are you and he…?"

Emily barked a laugh.

"Oh god no," she said. "Among a whole lot of other reasons, he is absolutely not my type... if you take my meaning."

"Oh good," Ion said with noticeable relief. Then after a pause, "Do… uh… you want anything to eat? I have a robot making grilled cheese right now… nothing special though. I usually don't trust them with the cooking, but I actually managed to finally get the recipe and process right. It's about the most complicated thing they can manage."

Emily raised an eyebrow.

"Are you offering your hostage a meal?"

Ion shrugged.

"Sure. I mean, this whole kidnapping thing has got to be hugely inconvenient for you. The least I can do is offer you a meal."

"Sure, why not?" Emily replied.

A bright smile flashed across Ion's face and she disappeared into a side room. This was certainly turning out to be a unique experience to say the least.

Ion reappeared a moment later with the steaming sandwich. She set the plate down in front of Emily who tentatively picked up the sandwich. Nothing special grilled cheese was actually amazing. She knew it was technically robot made, but if Ion was half as good at cooking, maybe Emily should give Ion her number. Wouldn't that be ironic? Her dating a supervillain?

She studied Ion as the villain opened a cabinet filled with labeled binders. She plucked one labeled Umbra and began flipping the pages as she idly chewed her lip.

Holy crap, did she just have binders for every possible scenario? Admittedly, Emily hadn't met many supervillains, but she doubted many of them went to this level of detail. It was actually kind of endearing in a weird way… and again, vaguely familiar.

"Hey," Emily said. "You seem pretty nice and I'd hate for you to get hurt on my account. You should probably just throw this fight. I have a feeling Umbra's not going to pull any punches if he thinks I'm actually in danger. Also, he's smart enough not to get Rickrolled into submission."

Ion looked up in surprise and Emily felt herself blush slightly.

"Yeah, I watched the video of you taking down Jackrabbit," Emily admitted. "I gotta admit, it was pretty fucking awesome watching you take that prick down like that."

She felt a very familiar chill in her bones and she glanced at the ceiling where shadows were slithering unnaturally along the seam in the door.

Ion followed her gaze and she grew pale and swallowed nervously.

"This was fun," Emily told Ion. "We should do it again some time. See you around, yeah?"

"Yeah…" Ion replied as the shadows detached from the ceiling and coalesced into a human figure between them.

***

Unknown number, 7:15pm:

Hello? Emily? This is Jen.

Emily, 7:17pm:

Hey Jen! How's it going?

Jen, 7:18pm:

I am well.

I had a tough workout today, definitely feeling it.

How was your day?

Emily typed out a bland response and deleted it. There *had* been something very familiar about Ion…

No… that was impossible. 

Except impossible things happened every day, she reminded herself.

Emily, 7:26pm:

Pretty good overall

Work kinda sucked, but I had a really good evening

#ion & emily #my writing #supervillain oc #lesbian #transgender #writers on tumblr

[qqueenofhades]

I’m always baffled when people imply that people in foreign countries are so fundamentally different… it’s so weird….

LOOK, I HATE THAT FUCKING CLICHÉ FOR SO MANY REASONS. Frankly, I think my explanation was very nice and reasonable, but Lord, it makes me see RED. BECAUSE:

Exactly as you point out, it implies that not only can we never learn anything about the past, we can never learn, experience, go to visit, exchange ideas with, or recognize the fundamental humanity of Scary Foreigners either;

Obviously the past is not possible to physically visit absent a time machine, but the principle is the same;

It is so lazy! It is so dismissive of the work that so many people have done across the world, in past and present, to preserve their experiences for posterity! It acts like there's this terrible lacuna of knowledge ("stop telling everyone I'm dead!" / "sometimes I can still hear its voice...") and we just have to throw up our hands and accept ignorance!

Look, I know people on tumblr can say any old shit and lie and make up any old whatever, but I think my initial response makes it pretty clear that I'm coming at this from an educational or professional background. So thanks for explaining to me how to do my job and that I should always assume I haven't learned anything? Or that I need randos on tumblr to tell me to Check my Privilege or... whatever?

This cliché has endured past all useful application and doesn't actually represent what anyone in the field thinks. Yes, we have to be careful not to overstate or exaggerate or universally generalise or extemporize our conclusions, you know, like I was doing. But it passively (and indeed actively) encourages anti-intellectualism and that every interpretation is just as valid as any other, because Hey, We Can't Know! Guess that's the end of that! Shut down all the history departments, boys and girls, we're done here.

But truly, yeah. Foreign/different countries and people aren't unknowable, even if they start out that way. Foreigners and people in the past aren't some scary unknowable part-human entity that we have to stretch and strain to recognize any kinship with, or constantly caveat that they are Not Like Us. I think it comes, as do most of tumblr's critical thinking fails, from some misguided attempt to be Progressive wherein they reiterate "they're nothing like us and we can't know anything" from a supposedly more enlightened perspective, and just.

Argh.

#anonymous #ask #history #thank you for letting me have this rant

[reneesbooks]

The Knight of Lacuna Lake - Part 6

summary: Proteus takes charge as the new king of Raedora. tw for blood gore and violence

in the previous part: Rosaleen and Birdie are murdered by Levi, who flees, and Keelan is arrested for failing in his duty to protect Birdie. he is thrown into the Black Cell, but is comforted by a golden light sent by Maura.

intro post, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

decided to throw the entire 10k word chapter at y'all and run.

taglist (ask to be added <3): @serenanymph @lyssa-ink @oh-no-another-idea @lena-rambles @ashen-crest @tragicbackstoryenjoyer @serpentarii @allianaavelinjackson @laurenisnot

Keelan isn't sure how long it's been when the golden light flickers and fizzles out. He hopes that it means that Maura is asleep, safe somewhere and able to rest. He tries to curl up on the floor in the inky blackness, but sleep won't come. He sees the blood on Birdie's floor, hanks of silver hair that Maura loved to braid into complex patterns stained horribly red. He tries to push the memory away but it refuses to leave, hovering in the darkness in front of him no matter how hard he squeezes his eyes shut.

He screams until his throat is raw, slamming his fists into the wall as Levi's face rises out of the blackness, his eyes the moment before he disappeared, the last time he saw him before he murdered Birdie. His hand on Keelan's shoulder, telling him encouragingly that he's been improving in his reading every day. Blue lightning at his fingers, anger in his eyes.

The golden light flickers weakly to life in front of Keelan's eyes, chasing away the vision of Levi. He sobs weakly, reaching out to grab hold of it. He tastes sweet peas and sunshine when his fingers touch it. He holds onto it, needing the comfort, the protection from the waves of crushing guilt and grief. Needing it to chase away the visions of Birdie's blood on the bedroom floor, just another life he couldn't save.

The light doesn't last long, or it doesn't feel long to Keelan—either way, he is drowning again in the darkness of the Black Cell, Birdie's laughter ringing in his ears. His arms ache with the weight of her, the familiar warmth of her falling asleep in his arms as he carries her to bed. That familiar warmth as he tucked her in only hours before she was dragged from that bed and slaughtered, sheared like the little lamb she had been.

His knuckles are wet with blood and his throat is dry from dehydration. There is a scrape of metal and a tray hits his ankles. He drops to his knees, fumbling blindly for whatever had been pushed into his cell. He finds a dry crust of bread barely bigger than his palm and a tin cup of water that has already spilled all over the tray. The bread scrapes his dry throat on the way down, but the remaining water in the cup soothes it. He pushes the tray back up against the door and a hand reaches through a hole in the door, the barest hint of light spilling through as the guard grabs the tray and quickly retreats.

He paces until his feet are wet with blood too, imagining that he can see Birdie running in front of him, laughing as he chases her. He tries to speak to her, beg her to forgive him, to grab hold of her and keep her from running straight into her fate, but she is always just out of reach. He always comes up empty-handed.

The golden light returns and he holds it against his chest and sobs. As it starts to fade again, he begs Maura to stay, even as he knows it is only fading as her energy does. He hates himself for being so selfish, and cries into the darkness when it inevitably returns.

It's an endless cycle, visions of Birdie and Levi and Maura and Rosaleen and blood, always blood, chasing him around the cell until the golden light chases them away. And the golden light's horrible, sputtering death each time, plunging him back into the darkness. He thinks he will die with the taste of sweet pea on his tongue, screaming alone in the endless shadows.

The captain of the royal guard is the one who opens the door and lets light spill into the cell for the last time. Maura's golden light hasn't been there for a while, so it takes Keelan's eyes a while to adjust. He's led, stumbling and barefoot, through the silent criminals watching from behind their cell bars. He hears one murmur a prayer and almost laughs.

There is already a small crowd forming outside the gates, near the newly-repaired platform. There is a new addition, a tall wooden post with a metal ring set into it seven feet up. Keelan sees one of the soldiers from the dungeons cleaning off a long willow switch and nearly stumbles. They'd called the willows near Leyne weeping willows, since the criminals whipped with their branches always wept by the third hit.

Fifty lashes with a willow switch. He really is going to wish he was dead.

The king is sitting under a canopy erected near the platform. Maura is nowhere to be seen, to Keelan's relief. He doesn't want her to see this. Not after everything else.

A scribe is reading out the charges—for his failure to protect the young princess and for letting the murderer escape, he is to receive fifty lashes. It is only by the mercy of the crown princess that he is not killed outright as a traitor to the throne.

They attach his shackles to the ring on the post and tear away the back of his shirt. He meets the king's eyes. They are cold.

“Begin whenever you are ready,” Proteus says to the soldier with the switch.

“Keys,” Maura's voice whispers. He blinks and she is standing in front of him, her dressing gown pulled tight around her waist. Her face is streaked with tears and there are dark circles under her eyes. “Say nothing. The glamour is hard to keep up.”

Despair claws at his heart. He presses his lips together and stares over her shoulder. The crowd is cheering, calling for the beating to begin. She reaches out, brushing his cheek with her fingers.

“I don't know how long I can keep the shroud up,” she says, her voice choked with more tears. The soldier with the switch jumps up onto the platform. “But I won't let you do this alone.”

Keelan nearly bites his tongue when the first lash lands. Fresh tears leak down Maura's face. She cups his in her hands. The second lash hits and he whimpers her name, trying to hold himself together.

“I'm here,” she says.

The lashes are coming faster now, “You shouldn't…” he murmurs, quiet enough that only she will be able to hear him. The crowd is shouting, some cheering for each strike. “Shouldn't have come.”

Tears track down her face, mirroring his as the seventh strike breaks the skin. “I won't leave you.”

She presses her forehead against his and he leans against the post, closing his eyes. “Don't…don't want you to see this.” His voice breaks as the pain grows worse and worse. He's lost count and blood is dripping down his back and onto the platform. “Please, Maura.”

She shakes her head, her form flickering. Out of the corner of his eye, Keelan sees Proteus half-rise from his seat, staring at the space where Maura stands. She scrunches her nose and the image of her steadies. Proteus lowers himself back into his chair. The circles under her eyes are getting deeper. “I won't. I can't leave you.”

Someone is shouting out how many lashes it's been. Keelan's knees buckle, his shoulders wrenching as they take his full weight. He has so many left. Maura is stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, crying silently. Seeing her pain is worse than any willow switch.

“I'm begging you,” he chokes out, meeting her silver eyes. “Please.” He shuts his eyes as the switch hits his back again. “I don't want you to see this.”

She sobs once, the sound drowned out by the crowd's jeers. She leans forward to press her lips to Keelan's. “Come home to me, Keys,” she begs.

She's gone and Keelan's skin is splitting but at least she is no longer there to see it. He lets himself cry out, lets the tears pour down his face. As long as she isn't there to bear witness.

They are unshackling him, his shoulders screaming with pain as his arms are lowered from above his head.

“Chin up, boy,” the captain of the guard hisses in his ear. “If you fall, they'll leave you here.”

Keelan has to lean heavily on her, but he lifts his chin and meets the king's eyes. They are not nearly as cold, but he sees none of the man that he met in the chapel under the castle.

“Is His Majesty satisfied?” the captain calls out.

Proteus holds Keelan's gaze for a moment before looking away. “Yes. Take him away.”

“You're alright, lad,” the captain murmurs, leading Keelan down from the platform. There are shadows pushing in at the edges of his vision. “You only have to make it through the gates.”

Keelan wants to weep. The gates are miles away and he's lost so much blood that he can't feel his toes. He hold himself together with the thought of Maura's fingers on his cheeks. Her lips against his.

“That's it, lad, that's it,” the captain says as Keelan vomits in the bushes of the kitchen gardens. “You're almost there, I promise.”

They take him through the passage from the stables, likely to keep him out of sight. The dim corridor only reminds him of the Black Cell. He is relieved when they reach the barracks.

“Be gentle with him,” the captain says. The other soldiers help bandage his wounds and feed him a hearty beef stew before laying him down in his bunk.

“Thank you,” he manages to say. The captain pulls up a chair next to his bed, pushing her dreads out of her face.

“You took fifty lashes today. Most would have passed out from the pain. But not you. You're strong, Keelan. You'll be a good Queen's Knight.” She reaches out and pats his shoulder awkwardly. “Atta boy.” She clears her throat and stands suddenly. “Rest up. You'll be back to work in the morning.”

Keelan nods and turns his face into the pillow. He is asleep in minutes.

---

Maura's door flies open at eight thirty. Keelan doesn't have time to bow before she yanks him inside. He winces, the bandages on his back shifting.

“I'm sorry,” Maura says, running her hands over him anxiously. “Are you okay? They didn't hurt you anywhere else?”

“No,” Keelan says, recovering. He forces a smile. “Doesn't even hurt that bad.”

She doesn't laugh. “Liar. Take off your shirt.”

His whole face goes red and he very purposefully does not look at the four-poster bed against the wall. “Um. Why?”

She flicks her hand. His cloak and armor unfasten themselves and fall to the floor. “I've been studying healing magic all morning. Most of Levi's research disappeared after my mother's funeral, but I managed to sneak a few books away before he came back for them.” She helps him get his shirt off and he tries not to squirm as she appraises the wounds on his back.

“My father…” she says quietly. She touches the edge of one of the gashes. “I'm sorry he did this to you.”

“Birdie is dead because of me.” He shuts his eyes. “I deserved much worse.”

“No,” she insists. He feels warmth traveling across his back, following the trail of her fingertips. The pain fades in its wake and he tastes the faintest hint of sweet pea. “He forgets that this isn't Guildi. You swore your life, but the laws here are not nearly so harsh.”

“The laws allowing beatings remain,” Keelan says. “It wasn't that uncommon in Leyne.”

“It's not the same. The law is absolute in Guildi,” Maura says bitterly. “Not even the royal family is exempt from its punishments. Father…he shouldn't have done this. He called you away from Birdie; you never would have left her otherwise. He just needs someone to blame other than himself.” Keelan hisses with pain as she presses a little too hard and she murmurs an apology. “He should have never done this to you.”

“I've lived through worse,” he says.

“It wasn't necessary.”

“He's grieving.” Keelan thinks of the raid captain's hair between his fingers, the wide, pleading eyes staring up at him. The slight resistance before his sword broke the skin. “People are capable of awful things when they're grieving.”

Maura is silent for a moment as she finishes whatever spells she's using on his back. “I'm so angry,” she says quietly. “I'm angry at Levi. At my father, my mother, myself.” She presses her forehead to his shoulder and he feels tears wet his skin. “Not you, though. I'm only afraid I'll lose you too.”

He turns around, pulling her into a tight hug. “Never.”

“You can't promise that,” she sniffs.

“I can and I do. I promise that no matter what happens, you will always have me.” He kisses the side of her head. “My life in your service."

They stay in her room for the day, recovering together. Maura's spells helped close up the smallest of the gashes and speed up the healing for the bigger ones. She's too tired to do anything more and Keelan won't let her overexert herself for him.

They take all three meals in her room and Maura refuses to let any of the servants in; the kitchen maids have to leave the trays at the door. She and Keelan eat on the floor in front of the window, surrounded by books as Keelan practices reading and Maura studies the pieces of Levi's research that she stole. Proteus tries to call on her twice, but both times she locks the door and refuses to answer.

She falls asleep with her head in Keelan's lap and he carries her to bed, tucking her gently under the covers. He drags an armchair in front of the door and falls asleep in it with his sword across his lap.

It becomes their routine for a week, then two. He missed Rosaleen and Birdie's funeral—Proteus hadn't wanted a traitor like him to be there, so it had been held while he was in the Black Cell. Keelan's back heals and Maura practices every spell she can find in Levi's books. Keelan's eighteenth birthday comes and goes without much fanfare—Stiofán sends up sugared buns and Keelan and Maura finish off a bottle of his father's wine, falling asleep on the floor in front of the window.

A third week passes and Maura is summoned to see the king. She refuses.

Keelan is waiting outside the door when Proteus arrives, red-faced. “Stand aside, Keelan.”

“The princess doesn't want to be disturbed,” Keelan says coolly. “She has ordered me to turn away any who come—”

“Move aside. I need to speak with my daughter.”

Keelan's healing scars itch. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but the princess gave me orders. My life is sworn to her service. I can't let you through.”

Proteus stands there for a minute, seething. Keelan can see him weighing execution as an option. Finally, the king of Raedora spins on his heel and walks briskly away. Keelan stays in front of Maura's door for a while longer, waiting to see if Proteus plans on returning to arrest him again. An hour passes without anyone else coming, so he slips back inside.

Maura looks up from a crumpled scroll. “You were out there for a long time.”

“Just making sure he wasn't coming back.” He unfastens his cloak and sets it down on his chair. “What are you looking at?”

Her nose crinkles as she looks at the smudged ink. “A spell Levi was researching, or maybe putting together. I don't have his personal spellbook to be sure.”

“What does it do?” Keelan picks up one of the books he's been reading.

“I'm not sure. A lot of the writing is in Fiero, so I can't read it. I'll have to spend some time working on a translation.”

She works in silence for a while before Keelan breaks it. “Are you going to go to see the king at some point?”

Her knuckles whiten around the scroll, the yellowed parchment crumpling. “He had you beaten for nothing,” she says savagely. “I don't want to see him.”

Keelan nods, lowering his gaze. “I'm better now,” he says quietly. “Your magic did its job.”

“Good.” She picks up another book and squints at the writing. “Let me know if any of the pain returns. I found a recipe for a scar salve that I could try out.”

And so the routine continues.

Maura throws herself into studying Levi's research. There are still nights that she clings to Keelan and cries until she falls asleep. He holds her and tells her he will never leave, but he can feel the gaping hole in her. He has the same one in his chest and has for years. He knows there is nothing that will close it.

Proteus doesn't try to summon either of them, nor does he come to the door again. Keelan's moved most of his things into a drawer at the bottom of Maura's dresser, since he falls asleep guarding her every night and only returns to the barracks when absolutely necessary. Maura tells the servants with the nerve to ask that she has ordered him to guard her at all times until Levi has been found. Soon enough, the only ones who come to the door are the kitchen maids that drop off their meals.

Stiofán starts putting little notes on the trays, keeping them updated on the going-ons of the land. Keelan is getting better at reading, so he reads them out loud to Maura while she works on her spells. Every day she shows him something new that she's learned from Levi's research.

It seems like this could last forever, the two of them studying in a peaceful bubble on the floor of Maura's bedroom. Keelan knows that it can't—eventually they will have to face the king, and the consequences of flaunting convention and propriety to stay together. But he still likes to pretend, at night as he's falling asleep in front of the door, that this is their everyday life. That there is nothing more that they have to do.

Before either of them know it, the eve of the new year arrives. Maura has been keeping track of the days, of the passing weeks and then months. Ten weeks and two days, if Keelan remembers correctly. They're celebrating by sleeping in.

“Maura.” The king knocks on the door and Keelan jerks awake in his chair, raising his sword. Maura motions for him to hide in her washroom and he hears her open the door. He presses himself against the wall, straining his ears.

“Father. To what do I owe this early visit?”

“Sweet pea.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Maura.” There is a long pause. “The law is the law. None are exempt.”

“Not even us.” Maura's voice is smooth, emotionless. “Was there anything else?”

“Beloved, I don't want to fight with you. We…we only have each other now. Please, sweet pea. I miss my daughter.”

Maura inhales sharply. Then again shakily. “I miss you too, Daddy. I'm just…” She sniffs and Keelan's fingers curl into his palms. “I'm just so angry.”

“Me too. I shouldn't have taken it out on Keelan.”

“No.” She sniffs again. “You shouldn't have.”

Keelan can hear a smile in Proteus's voice. “Will you two join me for lunch? If you're not too busy.”

There is another long pause before Maura says, “Okay.”

The door snaps shut and Keelan steps through the doorway into the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She swipes two tears from her cheeks and turns to her dresser. “I'm going to get ready for lunch. You should as well.”

He takes the hint and grabs his things from the drawer, returning to the washroom and pulling the gossamer curtain over the doorframe. He dresses quickly and helps Maura tighten the laces on her dress when she calls for him. She's been eating less and less, and refuses to ask the maids for help, insisting that they'll gossip if they have to tighten the laces for her.

She holds his arm tightly as they walk through the corridors for the first time in weeks. Keelan feels almost agoraphobic under the vaulted ceilings of the royal wing's hallways. Guards bow and murmur greetings as they pass, black curtains hung over all the windows to indicate their mourning status. Too soon, they are at the doors of the dining room.

Maura inhales shakily and Keelan squeezes her hand where it rests on his arm. “You don't have to do this if you aren't ready.”

“I'm fine,” she says, and pushes the door open.

Proteus looks up from his food. "Ah. Come in, sit."

Keelan takes his seat next to Maura and waves off a servant that tries to offer him a platter of fancy little cakes. He takes a bun and a few pieces of fruit for his lunch and Maura nibbles on a single apple.

"I know that we are still in mourning," Proteus says, buttering a piece of bread, "and the people have accepted that as a reason that you have not been seen in over a month."

"Ten weeks and two days," Maura says coolly.

Proteus's jaw twitches. "Indeed, sweet pea. But it's the new year now, and we have to present a united front. You are the future queen of Raedora. The people need to know that you will take care of them."

"You wish for me to return to my royal duties." Maura bites into her apple, sucking the juices off her fingers before asking, "When?"

"Tomorrow. We will have a session of the court for the new year."

"Fine." She sets the half-eaten apple down on her plate and stands. "I think I've had enough to eat. Sir Keelan, if you would escort me back to my room; I would like to rest."

He stands, leaving his unfinished fruit on his own plate. "Yes, my princess."

"Before I go," Maura says, turning back to Proteus. "Have you anything to say to Sir Keelan?"

Proteus's eyes widen and dart over to Keelan, then back to Maura. "Beloved, what…?"

She folds her hands behind her back. "Nothing?"

Proteus clears his throat, standing. He meet's Keelan's eyes. "I should not have done what I did." He immediately looks back at Maura. "Are you satisfied?"

She curls her lip. "Hardly."

But she doesn't force him to try again, just turns on her heel and leaves. Keelan follows her back to her room, where she throws a vase into a wall with a frustrated scream. He sits there while she paces back and forth, ranting angrily about her stupid, stubborn father who is too pig-headed for a simple apology. When she breaks down crying again, he pulls her into his arms and tells her he's just happy Proteus was able to maintain eye contact for longer than two seconds.

Neither of them feel ready, but they both know it's finally time to break the self-imposed exile.

Now that Maura is returning to her royal duties, Keelan moves his things back to the barracks. He is still at her door every day at eight. Maura refuses to enter the library and it's too cold to study in the gardens, so Proteus picks out the books and one of the servants leaves them in the parlor in the royal wing for their morning studies. After lunch, Keelan sometimes follows Maura to court, sometimes to the door of her father's study where the two of them stay shut in for hours, discussing politics and the finer points of ruling. He's never privy to those discussions, but sometimes Maura will give him a summary of the day's topics. He doesn't understand any of it, but he loves to listen to her voice as she describes it to him.

The full silver moon is approaching and with it, Birdie's birthday. Maura hasn't said anything to Keelan, but he knows that she's had the maids keeping Birdie's room spotless. He doesn't have the guts to ask her about it yet.

On the afternoon of Birdie's birthday, Proteus calls a special session of the court. The nobles crowd into the throne room and scribes prepare dozens of little slips for the messengers. Keelan stands at Maura's side, watching her fidget with the ends of her braids as she waits for the court to begin.

Proteus raises to his feet and clears his throat. The crowd hushes.

"Tonight," he says, his voice trembling with rare emotion, "my daughter, Brigit, should have celebrated her eighth birthday. Instead, she was butchered by a man who pretended to be a loyal servant. She was killed, as was her mother, my beloved Queen Rosaleen, by magic. It is in her memory that I act now." He gestures to the scribes. "On this day, I declare witchcraft, the practice of magic, or the study of it, unlawful in all of Raedora. Any who are found to be a witch, to have practiced magic, or to have studied it, must be brought to the capital to face trial before their king and princess." He sweeps his gaze over the silent nobility. "Those who have never used their magic for harm will be allowed two days to leave. Those who have used their magic for evil will face the consequences."

Maura's fingers twitch in her lap.

"If it was not for witches, my daughter would be alive," Proteus says, his knuckles white on the arms of the throne. "Instead, my baby girl is gone. Witchcraft will no longer be tolerated in Raedora. If witches do not turn themselves over, they will be tracked down and brought here by force. All must face judgment for justice to be served."

Keelan's mouth is dry, thinking of Maura's books hidden under the bed. Proteus wouldn't prosecute his own daughter for witchcraft, would he?

The law is absolute in Guildi. Not even the royal family is exempt from its punishments.

"You are all dismissed," Proteus says, resting his head in one hand. The court leaves quickly, whispering furiously.

Keelan sets his hand on the arm of Maura's throne. "Princess?"

"I was going to take Birdie riding for her birthday this year," she says, staring ahead. "She always begged to come along when I went, but she was still too small. She was finally getting big enough."

He slides his fingers down to touch her arm. "Do you wish to go back to your chambers to rest?"

"Yes," she says, standing. "Yes, I think I will."

---

"The princess's birthday is coming up," one of the kitchen maids says slyly, passing Keelan his usual breakfast sausage. He breaks it in half, tossing half to the fat kitchen cat that's supposed to catch rats but mostly trips people and begs for scraps. "Do you think she'll get any gifts this year?"

"She's still in mourning for her mother and sister," Keelan says, giving the maid an odd look. "Why would she even celebrate her birthday?"

The maid rolls her eyes. "Sometimes," she says slowly, as if he is a child, "people celebrate things when they're sad so that they can feel better." She laughs at his expression, handing him another sausage and a napkin for the grease. "Perhaps her friends will still get her something to cheer her up a bit."

Keelan bites into his sausage, smiling a little. Not a bad idea. He bids the kitchen staff goodbye, hardly noticing the maids exchanging bets.

Keelan is, technically, paid a wage, so he gets his purse out from under his bed in the barracks and counts out the coins with shaking fingers. Eighteen silver, six copper, and twelve gold. Not much, but he's sure he can find something.

The kitchen maids tell him, giggling, that most people looking for a good birthday gift for someone like Maura will start at the jeweler in the Grand Market. He doesn't want to be recognized or bothered while he is out, so he strips his horse and dons a plain cloak. Without the fancy saddle and heraldry, his fierce warhorse almost looks like the docile mare that pulled his father's plow.

The jeweler isn't hard to find—he has a large sign with a painted diamond and a throng of people perusing his enormous booth. Keelan wanders around the tables, eyes wide as he takes in the range of different jewels and precious metals. Maura loves blue and green, so he looks at sapphires and emeralds. His eye catches on a simple gold ring with a small blue stone. He catches the jeweler's attention.

“How much for this one?” he asks. The jeweler's smile is sour.

“Twenty-five gold pieces,” he says, with a decidedly nasty lilt to his tone.

“I have twelve and eighteen silver,” Keelan offers.

The jeweler sneers. “If you can't pay, put your grubby hands somewhere else.”

Keelan stiffens, glaring at him, but sets the ring down and goes back to his horse.

“Don't let that snob get you down,” a voice to his right says. He glances over to see the silk merchant leaning out of their booth. They give him an apologetic smile. “He's been a sour apple as long as he's been here.”

“Thanks,” Keelan mutters, mounting his horse.

“There's a jeweler in South Town that has better prices,” the silk merchant calls loudly, ignoring the way the jeweler glares at them. “Better prices, too, in my humble opinion.”

Keelan laughs a little. “Thanks.”

The South Town market is small and quiet, but the merchants are friendly and one happily points him to the jeweler's workshop.

It's a small building, stained with smoke from the puffing chimney. The front window has a spare, simple display featuring a single set of jewelry—a necklace, a ring, a set of bracelets, and a pair of earrings, all worked in silver and set with small red gemstones.

“What can I help you with?” a young woman asks eagerly when he steps inside. He freezes as she bounces around the counter, beaming. “Are you shopping for yourself, or somebody else?”

“Harper, go oil the tools,” an exasperated woman says from where she is hunched over a half-assembled necklace on the battered wooden counter. “Hello, love,” she says to Keelan, as Harper slinks off sullenly. “I'm Laoise, the jeweler. You'll forgive my apprentice, I hope. She is very eager.”'

Keelan's hand is still resting on the doorknob. He releases it and clears his throat. “Ah. Yes. I'm here because I want to find a birthday gift for someone.”

Laoise sets down her pliers and studies him for a moment. “What do you have in mind?”

He deflates a little. “I don't know. Someone said to go to a jeweler and here I am. She already has everything…I don't know what to get her.”

“I see.” Laoise comes out from behind the counter, looking Keelan up and down. She glances out the window, at Keelan's horse. Something like amusement flicks across her face, but she doesn't say anything about it. “How old will your friend be?”

“Seventeen. She…she lost some people recently. I want to make sure she knows that I'm here for her.”

“Of course,” Laoise says, smiling. “You're a kind friend. Tell me about her. What does she like?”

She pulls up a chair at a little table and Keelan sits, trying to think of words that will be adequate. “She's…she loves to read. She loves plants, especially sweet peas. Her favorite colors are blue and green. She likes horseback riding and stargazing.” He wrings his hands in his lap. “I'm awful at giving gifts.”

Laoise got a pot of tea from somewhere at some point and is pouring him a cup. “That's alright. I'll help you.”

“The silk merchant in the Grand Market told me to come here,” Keelan admits, accepting the cup. Laoise laughs.

“They're a sweetheart, aren't they? They send a lot of folks my way. I'm guessing the old stuffed-shirt was rude to you? Mad you couldn't pay?”

Keelan nods and sips his tea. It leaves a warm feeling in his chest, his nerves calming slowly.

“Let's get it out of the way, then. How much do you have?”

“Six copper, eighteen silver, and twelve gold.” He fidgets while she repeats it to herself silently, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Is that enough?”

“Oh, that's plenty, honey. That stuck-up egomaniac in the Grand Market is just greedy.” She rubs her jaw. “You won't want any yellow gems—it'll clash. No gold either, which is fine since I only work in silver anyway.”

“But her hair is golden,” Keelan says. “Wouldn't you want to match that?”

Laoise shakes her head. “You don't need to add to the gold; it won't match and will only make either her hair or the jewelry look out of place. No, you want to match her eyes, to pull out that color more clearly and draw attention to them.” She taps her chin with one finger, her eyes darting around the shop. “Hm. Come look at this one.”

She picks up a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a blue teardrop gemstone. Keelan thinks of the similar one that he's seen Maura wear to state dinners. “Not quite. It's beautiful, though.”

“No need to flatter me,” Laoise laughs. “I know my work's worth. We're trying to find the right one; we'll have to go through a few wrong ones.” She sets the necklace down, frowning in thought. “Does she already wear a lot of jewelry?”

Keelan rubs his forehead. “Kind of? She doesn't wear a lot all at once, but she almost always has something.”

“Makes sense.” She picks up a set of silver-and-green bracelets. “These, perhaps?”

Keelan has never seen Maura wear bracelets in his life. He thinks of her flourishing motions when she speaks and casts spells. “She talks with her hands a lot.”

Laoise grimaces and sets them down. “I should think not.” She casts her gaze around the shop again, her eyes narrowing. “Harper!”

Harper comes tumbling out of some back room, oil smudged on her nose. “I wasn't listening,” she says guiltily.

“Of course you were.” Laoise waves her hand. “Do you have that piece you were telling me about ready to be shown?”

Harper's whole face flushes. “You—to a customer?” she squeaks.

“Yes, Harper, to a customer,” Laoise says with the barest hint of a smile. “Do you have it?”

Harper disappears and reappears faster than Keelan can track, holding a folded cloth in her hands reverently. She lays it out on the counter and Keelan leans over to get a better view. She unfolds the cloth carefully, revealing a delicate ring made of braided silver and set with three pale stones. Keelan inhales softly, his eyes raking over the thin tendrils of silver that hold the stones in place.

“They're moonstones,” Harper says, vibrating with pride. “They change color in the light, see?” She tilts the cloth carefully, rolling the ring in between her fingers. The pale white surfaces of the moonstones shimmer, blue and silver and red hues crossing their faces. “When exposed to direct moonlight, some say that they can feel the moon's power through the stones. Whether or not that is true, they will often glow brighter and more vibrantly.”

Keelan reaches out but is afraid to touch the dainty piece or smudge the stones. “You made this?”

“Yes.” Harper fidgets, a bit of doubt entering her expression. “Is it satisfactory?”

“It's perfect,” Keelan breathes. He smiles at Harper before returning his gaze to the ring. “How much?”

Harper hesitates, glancing at Laoise.

“Wrap it up for him,” Laoise says. Harper nods and take the ring away. Laoise sets her hand on Keelan's shoulder. “I'll give it to you at no cost, Keelan O'Leyne.”

He jerks away from her, startled. “How did you know?”

“You pick up on things more as you get older,” Laoise says with a wink. “And you're not all that stealthy, honey.” Her expression sobers. “My mother was from Leyne. I lived there for a while as a young girl before we came here.”

Keelan's breath catches in his chest. Laoise sets her hands on his shoulders.

“You are not alone, little knight,” she says softly. “You are not the only one who remembers.”

Tears well up behind his eyes. Harper returns with a wrapped ring box tied with a ribbon. She presses it into Keelan's hands and takes his empty cup of tea. Laoise pats the side of his face.

“Leyna watches over you, Keelan of Leyne,” she says. “You are not alone.”

He walks out of the shop shaking, tears sliding down his cheeks without his permission.

You are not alone, little knight.

He rides back to the castle slowly, lost in his thoughts.

---

Proteus doesn't host a ball for Maura's birthday, as they're still in mourning. Even so, Stiofán makes all her favorites for dinner and sends up extra sugared buns with the desserts. Keelan's hands are sweating so much on the walk back to Maura's room that he thinks he's going to drop the ring.

"Sir Keelan," she says, curtsying. She goes to open the door and his heart leaps into his throat.

"Wait."

She pauses. "Yes?"

"I got you something." His mouth is dry, but he manages to smile at her. "If you're interested."

She lets go of the door handle. "Like…like a birthday present?"

"You didn't get one from me last year. Not a real one, at least." She slips her hand into his and he rubs his thumb across her knuckles. "And with everything that's happened…I just wanted to make sure that you knew…" He clears his throat. "It's a gift for you."

He doesn't drop the box, and hands it to her with steadier hands than he'd expected. She takes it but doesn't open it, turning it over and over and inspecting the sides of the box. "Where did you get this? How?"

He chances a smile. "I am paid a wage, even if it's not a big one. I got it…I'll tell you after you've opened it."

She pops the top off and presses one hand to her mouth when she sees the ring.

"They're moonstones," Keelan says, twisting his fingers together. "They change color in the light." He watches tears gather in her eyes and his breath hitches. "Do you not like it?"

Her eyes dart up to his face and her hand lowers from her mouth to reveal a tremulous smile. "It's beautiful," she whispers.

He bows. "Happy birthday." She is still staring at him and he fidgets again. "So you like it?"

Maura looks back down at the ring and her trembling fingers lift it out of the box. She slides it onto the third finger of her left hand. "It's the best birthday gift I've ever gotten." He can't help the enormous smile that breaks over his face. She stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he replies.

She goes into her room and he walks on air all the way back to the barracks.

---

Keelan opens his eyes.

“Keys!” Maura's face appears above him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank the gods, you're awake. How do you feel?”

He blinks, trying to orient himself. He's laying on a cot in the infirmary, undressed from the waist up. His mouth is dry, his toes are tingling as sensation returns to them, and he can feel stubble growing in on his jaw.

“What happened?” he says, immediately wincing as his dry throat scratches with the effort. Maura bites her lip.

“You don't…you don't remember?”

His head aches. “Remember what?”

She drops her gaze to her lap. “You…you were helping bring witches in for the trials. One of them attacked you.”

“I remember bringing witches in yesterday, but everything else is a blank.” He scratches his jaw. The stubble must have grown in fast.

Maura's gone a shade paler. “Yesterday?”

He slides his gaze to her slowly. “Yes. Why?”

She won't look at him. “That was over two weeks ago, Keys. You've been here, recovering, for fifteen days.” Her fingers curl into her palms in her lap. “I…made a mistake.”

There is a sick feeling in his gut that has nothing to do with the healing wounds that he sees across his chest and arms. He takes a moment to look at them, to process what they are. “I was burned,” he says as it finally dawns on him. “Badly.” As sensation returns, he can feel how extensive they were. His whole chest, across his shoulders and arms. They're mostly healed now, so the pain is mild but still constant, ebbing and flowing. “But I don't remember anything.”

Tears drip down Maura's cheeks. “You were in so much pain. I thought…I must have done something wrong. I didn't mean—”

“You took my memories.” There is a distant roar in his ears. He can't feel the absence in his head, but he knows, deep in his chest, that they're gone. “You stole them.”

“I only wanted to take the memory of the pain,” she says, tears falling faster as she reaches for his hand. He pulls it away. “You…you were in agony, Keys. The witch who burned you…she nearly killed you. I couldn't…I couldn't let you live with that kind of pain.”

“You learned the exact spells that Levi used on us.” He stares at the wall on the other side of the infirmary. He can't look at her tears anymore; he isn't sure how much longer he can handle the pressure in his chest.

“I thought if I learned how he manipulated us, I could stop it from ever happening again.”

“How is this stopping it?” His voice raises, but he still can't look at her. He glares at the other side of the cot instead. “Fucking hell, Maura, how is this stopping it?”

She inhales sharply and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall back on the pillow. A moment passes silently, then another. “I will leave you to recover in peace,” Maura finally says. He feels a hesitant, fluttering touch on his hand before her footsteps pace away with a swish of skirts. He doesn't open his eyes until he hears the infirmary door open and then shut. He is alive and alone and missing fifteen whole days of his life.

He rolls over and tries to get some sleep.

---

They release him from the infirmary in the morning and he returns to the barracks, where soldiers regale him with the tale of his heroic duty protecting the king from the fire witch. The captain of the guard pulls him aside at one point and pats his head with another “Atta boy.” He just dresses and straps his sword to his side.

“You have the whole day to recover,” the captain says, stopping him on the way out the door. “You don't need—”

“I'm in good enough shape to return to my job protecting the princess,” Keelan says flatly. “Excuse me.”

The captain stares, worried, but lets him past.

He's missed the morning studies, but he takes his place next to the guards outside the private dining room and waits for the king and the princess to finish their lunch.

The doors are open before he is ready. “Sir Keelan.” Maura tips her chin up, visibly steeling herself. “The physicians didn't inform me that you were ready to return to service.”

He bows. “I swear that I am fully able to protect you, my princess.”

“Good man,” Proteus says, stepping past Maura to clap Keelan on the shoulder. He manages to disguise the wince as another bow. “We're holding court today. The witch who nearly killed you is due to go on trial. Perhaps you will be the one to dispense her justice. It would be fitting.”

Keelan swallows the sick feeling in his stomach. “Yes, my king.”

He falls into step behind Maura and pretends not to notice her furtive glances at him. He can read her face too well, knows exactly how she's feeling. The guilt in her eyes is threatening to kill him.

The court is already assembled when they arrive. Keelan sees many whisper behind their hands when he walks in and chooses to ignore that as well. He might not remember what happened, but he won't let their gossiping faze him. He's sure there are plenty of outlandish stories out there.

“We may begin,” Proteus calls out, his voice ringing over the chatter. The court falls silent and the doors at the far end of the throne room swing open. Guards file in, leading prisoners in chains. They are forced to line up along the back wall and Proteus surveys the assembled prisoners.

“You are all here to stand trial for witchcraft,” he says, his expression hardening into the same one Keelan saw on his face the day he was beaten. “The law is the law. None are exempt. The truth will be found out, and the law will be applied. Those of you who have not used your magic to harm will be allowed two days to leave Raedora.”

“Those of you who have used your magic to harm will face punishment befitting the crime,” Maura says, her voice ringing even louder than her father's. Keelan fights the urge to look at her and read the expression on her face. It's the only reading he's any good at anyway.

The guards pull the first prisoner, a middle-aged woman with stringy dark brown hair and muddy eyes, forward and onto her knees in front of the throne.

“Ah, yes,” Proteus says, his lip curling a little. “The so-called swamp witch.”

She spits on the floor in front of him. “I kneel not for you, foreign king, but for our princess. She is a true Raedoran queen.”

“I thank you for your respect,” Maura says. “But I am not the queen yet, and my father's rule still binds you. Do not disrespect him again.”

The swamp witch bows her head. “As you wish, my princess.”

“You stand accused of witchcraft,” Proteus says. “What do you plead?”

“Guilty as charged,” the swamp witch says, a little smugly. “Been the witch of my village for twenty-five years.”

“What does that entail?” Maura asks, leaning forward in her throne and resting her chin on her hand. Keelan sees her left thumb rubbing along her moonstone ring. “Being the village witch, that is.”

“Maura,” Proteus starts to say, but Maura waves a hand dismissively and he shuts his mouth, shock flashing across his face. Keelan's fingers twitch towards the hilt of his sword, wondering if she shut his mouth for him. She wouldn't use magic so brazenly, especially not in front of the king, or on the king.

Would she?

He hates that he isn't sure anymore.

“A village witch protects her home,” the swamp witch says, her eyes darting between Maura and Proteus. “She heals the sick, aids in births, and eases the pain of the dying. She keeps raiders and thieves away and serves her community faithfully. Many of us take vows to the gods and the moons.”

“Interesting,” Maura says. “What witness does this witch present?”

The guards pull forward a young woman who trembles as she realizes that she has the full attention of the royal family. She drops into a shaking curtsy. “My name is Maisy, milady,” she says, with a thick southwestern accent that Keelan recognizes. They must be from one of the villages in the swamps near Aresfield. “I was brought here ta bare-witness.”

“To bear witness to the crimes of the so-called swamp witch,” Proteus adds, but Maura waves her hand again.

“I'll handle this, Father,” she says airily. “It is good practice, isn't it?”

Proteus opens and closes his mouth, apparently speechless. Keelan's hand tightens on the hilt of his sword. What kind of game is she playing?

“Maisy,” Maura says. The poor girl flinches. “Tell me about your village witch.”

“Mistress Ennis?” Maisy blinks. “She fixed my cat's crooked tail. When the fisherman's son got fish-sick, she helped him get it out without suffering.”

“What's fish-sick?” Maura interrupts, tilting her head.

“Oh, beggin' your pardon, princess, but it's rather unpleasant,” Maisy says, flushing and glancing around at the gathered nobility. “I would never—on such royal ears as yours, milady, and—”

“That's fine,” Maura says. “Please, continue telling me about Mistress Ennis, as you called her.”

Maisy nods, curtsying again. “Mistress Ennis kept pirates away when they came lookin' for safe harbor.” The swamp witch, Mistress Ennis, chuckles a little at this. “She's a real nice lady, milady, and we were real sad to see her go.”

Proteus leans forward. “The law is the law. Have you ever seen the swamp witch use her magic to harm others?”

Maisy hesitates, her eyes darting between Proteus and Maura nervously. “Do pirates count?”

“Defending your village from pirates is not the same as harming others,” Maura says evenly. “There is no other instance of Mistress Ennis using her magic harmfully?”

“No, milady. My princess.” She curtsies again.

“She is innocent,” Maura says. She waves her hand and the guards come forward, unlocking Mistress Ennis's chains. “You have two days to gather what you need and leave Raedora.”

Mistress Ennis sinks into a deep curtsy. “As you command, my princess. I hope to someday return when you are queen.” Proteus shifts in his throne, but the swamp witch is already turning away. She says nothing more, thankfully, and leaves with Maisy pulled tight against her side.

Keelan shifts from one foot to the other, glancing between Maura and Proteus. Maura is only focused on the next prisoner while Proteus watches her, calculations running behind his eyes. Keelan isn't sure what angle Maura is playing now. He thinks bitterly that he might have a better idea if she hadn't erased two and a half weeks from his memory.

“Sir Keelan.” Maura leans back in her throne and he steps forward. She looks up at him, a wrinkle in her brow. “What's fish-sick?”

Keelan smiles a little, clearing his throat before answering. “When someone eats a fish that's gone bad. Their insides clean themselves out to keep the rot from spreading. Most vomit, but some—”

“Stop.” She holds up one hand, a little paler. “I understand now. Thank you.”

The next prisoner, a tall man with cracked glasses, kneels before Maura's throne. “My princess. I submit to your justice.”

“You stand accused of witchcraft,” Proteus starts to say, but Maura leans forward in her throne, her hand up again.

“You are a witch, yes?”

“Yes, my princess,” the man says. “My parents were witches too, but they've left this world for the one beyond.”

“What did you use your magic for?”

Keelan sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his mind slowly piecing together Maura's plan. He doesn't have the full picture yet, but he's not sure how he feels about where all this is going.

“I'm a gardener, Your Highness.” He spreads his hands and the guards draw their swords. Green sparks dance between the man's fingers, but nothing more. “I use my magic to keep the crops of my village healthy and productive.”

“Who is your witness?”

Another man steps forward and bows. “My princess. I swear on my life, this man has never used his magic maliciously. He has helped my family's farm prosper for years, despite droughts and storms.”

“Innocent,” Maura says, spinning her ring on her finger. The court claps politely and the two men leave. The next prisoner is brought forward, spitting and struggling the whole way. Maura's lip curls, matching Proteus's. “Yes. The fire witch.”

“I'm not the only witch here, princess.” The witch spits the last word like a curse. Keelan see's Maura's fingers twitch in her lap and there is a brief golden shimmer in the air in front of her before it disappears.

“I have no doubt of your guilt,” Maura says, her voice still even despite the steel underneath. “But we shall give you the same treatment as all the others. What did you use your magic for?”

The witch spits again. “I won't say another word,” she says.

“Wouldn't that be a blessing,” Maura replies flatly. “What witness is there for her?”

A young man steps forward, averting his eyes but bowing neatly. “My princess. My king. This witch lived outside our village, see? I…I know little 'bout her, but there were lotsa stories of her powers. The village always brought her the healthiest lamb during the spring. My ma told me it was to keep the wildfires away. But…” He glances at the witch, then up at Maura, his expression hardening into determination. “I thinks she's the one who sets the fires.”

“Liar!” the witch screams, but Maura ignores her.

“Regardless of the witness's statements, your actions here in these halls were inexcusable,” she says. “You attacked my father, the king, and nearly killed Sir Keelan of Leyne, sworn shield of the crown. These are serious crimes that demand justice.”

“There's no justice to be found here,” the witch says. Her hands are still bound, but Keelan sees red sparks fizzle out at her fingertips. They stop after a moment and he thinks he sees golden sparks settle on the woman's wrist. The witch sneers at Maura. “And the princess is a hypocrite worse than her father. Magic runs through your blood, girl, and your father is a fool to not see it.”

“Sir Keelan.” Maura's eyes are cold and her voice emotionless. “She has insulted us enough. Remove her tongue.”

The witch's eyes widen and Keelan steps forward, drawing the dagger from his belt. “Yes, my princess.”

“Not here,” Proteus says, reaching out to grab Maura's wrist. “Not in front of the court.”

“I disagree.” Maura shakes him off, her eyes still locked on the witch as Keelan advances with his dagger. “I think here is the perfect place to do it. You yourself taught me the value of public punishment.” Proteus flinches. “Let it be a reminder to the others that justice does not wait.”

“There's no justice,” the witch tries to say, but the guards holding her in place force her head backwards and her mouth open.

Keelan flinches as the blood splatters across his tunic, but he steps back when his work is done and looks up at Maura. She nods and he returns to her side. The physician attends to the fire witch, cauterizing the wound to stop the bleeding. She sobs quietly into her hands when he backs away. Keelan thinks of the burns across his chest and looks at Maura again. She is unmoved by the witch's pain, staring down at her with anger barely hidden behind the sharp angle of her cheekbones. Her left thumb rubs along her ring.

“Now that we will have no further interruptions,” she says to the silent court, “we can proceed with the sentencing.” She takes a moment to inhale sharply. “Execution. She has committed treason and nearly killed a member of the royal guard. The sentence shall be carried out in two days.”

“This is why magic is no longer allowed in Raedora,” the king adds, his voice echoing around the white-faced nobles who stare in shock at the weeping witch. “Its corruption may be slow, but it will only lead to more death if we allow it to flourish.” He gestures at the guards. “Take her away. The Black Cell.”

Keelan's back itches but he keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as the fire witch is led away.

“Bring the next one forward,” Maura calls, all trace of anger smoothing over into calm.

---

Keelan pushes open the door to the barracks with his shoulder, massaging his palm. His grip on his sword had been iron during the day's trials and his muscles are cramping up. Even after three weeks, he still isn't used to the constant weight of the sword or knife in his hand.

“And Princess Maura's my favorite, of course.”

Keelan's head snaps towards the conversation that's being held somewhere deeper in the barracks. He walks quietly, not wanting to give his presence away.

“If you're going to get a long shift,” the soldier continues, speaking to a group of soldiers gathered with cups of wine and plates of dinner, “you always want to get the princess. High-and-mighty Princess Maura won't talk to you, but she at least gives you something to look at.” He waggles his eyebrows and Keelan's hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. “And to dream about later.”

The barracks fall silent as Keelan's sword flashes in the torchlight, the tip resting at the hollow of the man's collarbone. “Say that again,” he says calmly.

“Sir Keelan,” someone behind him says. “We didn't—”

“Say it again.” He pushes the tip of his sword against the man's chest, pinning him to the wall. “The part about the princess.”

“I didn't mean—”

Keelan slams his hand into the wall next to the soldier's head, his eyes shooting sparks. “Let me make something abundantly clear,” he says through gritted teeth. The soldier is silent and white-faced, wide eyes darting around the barracks at the other soldiers. Nobody says a word. “If I hear the princess's name in your mouth again, I'll cut out your tongue. Is that clear?”

The soldier gives a short, terrified nod.

“That goes for all of you,” Keelan adds, glaring over his shoulder at the rest of the gathered soldiers. “Keep the princess's name off your fucking tongues or I'll remove them.”

He sheathes his sword and stalks out of the barracks.

---

Keelan knocks on Maura's door. “Princess Maura? You summoned me?”

The door flies open and she is standing there, her nightgown half-hanging off one shoulder and dark circles under her eyes. “Keys. Good.”

She yanks him into the room and shuts the door tight. Silver moonlight spills through the windows, the curtains thrown wide open. There are strange chalk markings on the floor and spellbooks scattered across nearly every surface. Maura's bed is still neatly made despite the late hour. Keelan rubs his eyes. “Maura, how long have you been awake?”

She glances at the bed. “I didn't go to bed, if that's what you're wondering. I stayed up to prepare the spell.”

“Spell?”

“Yes.” She picks her way around the books and papers on the floor, until she reaches the chalk circle. “I've been searching for a spell to find Birdie.”

Keelan rubs his eyes again, a headache pulsing to life behind them. “Maura—”

“I know—” Her voice breaks and he lowers his hand from his eyes to see her staring at the floor, her lip between her teeth. “I know you're mad at me right now. Just hear me out.”

He softens, because he hasn't been mad at her in days, not since the last of his burns faded to the physician's shock and he realized that she'd been using healing magic to speed up the process. It's only been a month since magic was outlawed, but the trials have progressed quickly. Keelan's lost track of how many have come before them. Maura's judgment is swift and harsh—he's gotten better at removing tongues and once, an eye. The man had stared too long at Maura's chest and Keelan had enjoyed carrying out the punishment. He doesn't think about it much, filing it away with the sick satisfaction of the raid captain's head in his hands.

“I don't think that Levi killed her,” Maura says, gathering bits of parchment off the floor and pulling Keelan back into the present moment. “I think he wanted us to think that he'd killed her, but I don't think he really did.”

“Why would he—”

“So that we wouldn't look for her.” He can see the desperate hope in her eyes and something in his chest cracks. She's been hiding this, even from him, because she's terrified of what she might find. What she might not find. He resolves not to argue any further, and is immediately challenged when she says, “I just need you to be here in case I drain myself by accident.”

“No,” he says, stepping forward over one of the spellbooks. “You're not taking any risks on this.”

“I thought you would want to help me.”

His hands clench into fists. “I won't stand here while you kill yourself.”

“That won't happen. It's not likely, but if I have to push—”

“Stop.” He reaches the chalk circle and hesitates there, not wanting to ruin the markings. He meets her eyes steadily. Her lip trembles. “You won't overexert yourself. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she says. “Come stand by me.”

He does as she asks, brushing his hand against hers. She grabs it, squeezing his fingers so tightly they feel like they might pop off. He squeezes back, offering comfort if she'll take it. He feels her relax next to him.

She speaks a few words in the magical language he's heard before and the chalk markings glow with golden light. She lets go of Keelan's hand and her nose scrunches up as she continues to speak. Crystals rise up from points in the circle and dissolve into golden threads of magic that weave together into a mirror, hanging in the air in front of Maura. She stops chanting and the mirror hangs there silently, its surface showing the two of them, pale and nervous.

“You have to speak the name of the person you're searching for,” Maura says quietly. She clears her throat. “Princess Brigit of Raedora.”

The mirror swirls with mist, the image of the two of them dissolving. The mist clears and the image that appears is one that's haunted Keelan for months. The pool of blood on the floor of Birdie's bedroom, the silver hair slowly turning red.

“No,” Maura says, her eyes brimming with tears. She curls her hand into a fist. “No, that can't be it.” She thinks for a moment. “Birdie. Show me Birdie.”

The mist swirls across the mirror's surface again before it only shows the two of them again. Keelan watches Maura's reflection as anger, despair, and then anger again flash across her face. She lets out a scream and thrusts her hand out, shattering the mirror with a bolt of golden magic. Keelan flinches as the pieces hit the ground and dissolve into golden mist. The hum of magic in the air fades.

“I spent months researching that spell,” Maura says, staring at the chalk circle. “I found it in Levi's research and I thought…” Her expression hardens. “If I found it in Levi's research, then he knows how to defend against it. I'll just have to find one he doesn't know already.”

“Maura,” Keelan tries to say, but she doesn't seem to notice, reaching for one of the books on the floor. She tips, her eyelids fluttering, and he catches her before she hits the ground. He swings her up into his arms and carries her to the bed, maneuvering carefully around the spellbooks and scrolls littering the floor. Maura's head lolls against his shoulder and he lays her down gently, arranging the blankets over her.

“You broke your promise,” he says softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “You overexerted yourself.”

“I'm fine,” she says, but the circles under her eyes are darker than ever and he can tell she's trying very hard not to pass out. “I'm fine.”

“It's over. It's okay.” He sets his hand on her face and smiles softly at her. “I forgive you.”

She turns her face into his hand, tears caught in her eyelashes. He stays with her until she is peacefully asleep.

#hhh my job is sucking my time and soul so i'm gonna throw a lacuna chapter at u and disappear hope that's ok <3 #i see all the tag games and asks and i will answer some when i have like. more time to think. #until then it's the start of the school year and the teacher that had my classroom before me didn't clean out any of the cabinets #so that's been my life for the last week. bc my classroom is enormous and there are a million cabinets #anyway personal rant over #this chapter is...a lot. in a lot of ways. it's the last chapter of act one #so yeah. enjoy :) #lacuna #rb original #writeblr #writeblr community #original fiction #indie author #fantasy novel #dark fantasy #keelan #maura

[ryttu3k]

shuffle your on repeat playlist & post the first ten tracks 🎧

Not tagging, do if you like! Taken from full library.

Placebo - Special K

A-Ha - Take On Me

Mandrake - Universal Soul

Eleni Fouriera - Fuego

Vampire the Masquerade - Bloodlines - Festival

U96 - Club Bizarre

Pink Floyd - Cluster One

Johann Strauss Jr - Radetzky March

Organic Factory - Anarchy Is Energy

Walk The Moon - Shut Up And Dance

Scissor Sisters - Take Your Mama

Lacuna Coil - I Survive

Baldur's Gate 3 - Bard Dance

Legend of Zelda - Wind Waker - Dragon Roost Island

Legend of Zelda - Breath of the Wild - Molduga Battle

Dandy Warhols - Bohemian Like You

Legend of Zelda - Symphony of the Goddess - Link to the Past Movement

Darude - Sandstorm

Legend of Zelda - Breath of the Wild - Vah Ruta Approach

Måneskin - Baby Said

I love how I got a bit of a way in and my music player realised I didn't have any Zelda yet, and so made four of the last seven all Zelda stuff. (For the record, Zelda stuff makes up 572/2,851 files.)

#music #memes

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Friends with Benefits (2) Masterlist

part one

ain’t it funny how the night moves? (ao3) - soulmatism Michael/Luke E, 6k

Summary: “That summer wasn’t... love,” he whispers before Michael has the chance to talk first. He doesn’t mean to, just like he doesn’t mean to do a lot of things, but it’s true. Michael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn’t look hurt.

“I know,” Michael says softly. “I think it is now, though.”

Or, Luke really shouldn’t still be thinking about the summer he spent hooking up with his best friend when he was nineteen.

are we something to each other (or are we just blowing smoke?) (ao3) - bellawritess Michael/Ashton, Luke/Calum T, 10k

Summary: A startled laugh escapes Michael, and he gently pushes against Ashton’s chest, though his hand lingers as if for a moment he considers holding Ashton in place instead. “You’re lame. And you’re not kissing me like that in front of your friends. I’m a respectable fake boyfriend, I don’t believe in gratuitous PDA.”

Blossom (ao3) - FayeHunter Michael/Luke E, 9k

Summary: Luke's been hooking up with his friend, Michael for a bit now. Too bad he's just a little in love with Michael. Too bad Luke doesn't know how to tell Michael or if Michael feels the same.

cut it with a knife (ao3) - beckywritesthings Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum M, 17k

Summary: “What about you and Ashton?”

Ah fuck, Luke should have known better than to assume he would have gotten out of this conversation scot-free. “What about me and Ash?” He shoots Michael a look that says please shut up, but of course, he doesn’t listen.

“Isn’t it the same situation with you and him? You guys are fucking too – don’t you even try and say you’re not – but you want it to be more.”

Hearing it said out loud is like an arrow through his heart: aim so true it’s impossible for it to do anything but hurt. He takes a deep shuddering breath, pressing down the lid tight on the box of emotions he’s labeled Property of Ashton Irwin: Do Not Touch.

“It’s just sex.” The words taste like sawdust coming off his tongue, but Luke can’t– isn’t ready to handle it yet. “That’s it.”

or, a story where Luke models, Ashton sings, and neither of them talk like they should.

Foreplay - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) Calum/Ashton E, 9k

Summary: Ashton always initiates it, Calum is always far too happy to play along, and they always get each other off using their hands while pressed as closely together as physically possible. Then Calum will laugh a little, Ashton will grin, and they’ll use whatever they can find to wipe themselves off before pulling their pants back up, making sure the coast is clear on the other side of the door, and go hit the showers.

That’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. That’s probably how it will always go.

i don't mind you under my skin (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 26k

Summary: With a tiny smile, Luke says, “I like it when you look at me like that.” He’s probably going to regret this in the morning, but right now, he feels weightless. Nothing matters, he can say anything and do anything and he never feels this way and it’s fucking amazing.

“Like what?” Calum asks. He tips his head in closer to Luke’s, forehead wrinkled curiously, and Luke realizes he’s not sure if Calum is drunk or not. He has no fucking clue. Does it matter? Yes, it probably matters, at least as far as Luke’s ego is concerned. It trips him up.

“You know,” he says, tongue stumbling over the simple words. “Like you like me.”

Lacuna - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) Luke/Calum, side Michael/Ashton E, 27k

Summary: In which Luke needs a place to live, Calum needs a roommate, and they don't exactly dislike each other but they don't exactly like each other either.

making the most of the night (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 27k

Summary: “Cal! Have you met Luke?” Ashton has one arm around a tall blonde guy wearing a sheepish smile and a barely buttoned shirt, and he wraps his other around Calum, pulling him in close. “You should talk. You’ve got a lot in common. Shit exes, for example.”

Calum looks over this Luke person he apparently has a lot in common with, and he does seem a little familiar. Maybe Calum has met him before. But that doesn’t seem right either, because he thinks he’d remember meeting someone so…bright. Noticeable. Luke doesn’t exactly blend into a crowd. Calum’s not certain, though — he could’ve met Luke while he was super drunk or super tired or super distracted by his ex-boyfriend.

“Sure, yeah,” Calum agrees, dodging the question. “Luke, would you like to spend a fun evening talking about our shit exes and feeling sad about it?”

new shapes (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 23k

Summary: “Anyway,” Calum says, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I wanted to talk to you about it, because I kinda think it would be a really good idea for us to fuck each other.”

Luke chokes on his water.

Calum slaps him on the back a few times, even though Luke has told him over and over that doesn’t do anything to help.

over and under (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum E, 10k

Summary: “We really need to stop doing this.”

“I know.”

Luke says he won’t do this again.

They both agree they won’t do this again when they’re dressed, in Luke’s living room and not his bedroom, when Calum’s about to leave to see his other friends and Luke’s going to the studio to write.

It’s easy to agree not to do it again when Calum’s not touching him.

since we can’t hook up tonight (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 5k

Summary: As much as he may nearly count down the hours until he gets to speak to Luke again, that doesn’t mean that Luke is doing the same for him. Now that Luke is off touring and seeing new people and amazing sights, maybe he’s forgetting about the people waiting at home for him.

Maybe he’s forgetting Ashton is waiting at home for him.

But Ashton just reminds himself again that just because he’s a hopeless fool for Luke doesn’t mean that Luke feels the same about him. Quite the opposite, honestly, because he knows that Luke doesn’t feel the same about him, or they wouldn’t be in this position right now, friends with benefits instead of more.

something (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 6k

Summary: Luke brings his hand up to rest against the swell of Ashton’s right thigh, fingertips pressing lightly into the skin through the thin layer of cotton between them. There’s no heat or want in his touch, simply seeking out the ease of an interaction so casual, kneading his flesh like a pleased cat. It’s a familiar interaction, with Luke always wanting to be as close to another person as possible, but always seeming to find his spot against Ashton’s legs when he can.

Yet there’s just a little bit of something more there, something in the way that Luke’s fingers press down and his cheeks round out from his smile and his eyes flutter shut. Something.

summer nights (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum M, 14k

Summary: Luke was waiting for romance. He was waiting for the guy that sweeps him off his feet, that wants him for everything he is and isn’t afraid to show it.

He used to be sure that guy was out there. Now he’s pretty sure he’s not.

talk to me, baby (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum E, 17k

Summary: “Is that why you’ve been looking at me all night?” Luke asks, reaching out and brushing a finger over one of the rips in Calum’s jersey. “Trying to get me alone to sell your services?”

Calum looks delighted that Luke has called him out and it makes Luke smile again.

“Not at all,” Calum says, taking a swig from his drink. “But I was trying to get you alone to offer some other services for free. Interested?”

Luke laughs. “Is that an innuendo?”

“Absolutely, but I can be less subtle.” Calum sips his beer, eyeing Luke. “Wanna fuck?”

Tie That Binds - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) Luke/Ashton E, 98k

Summary: In which Luke wants to explore miscellaneous kinks and Ashton strikes him as a good candidate to do said exploring with with.

touch (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 6k

Summary: Everyone who’s seen Ashton knows how large his hands are. They’re massive, with palms nearly as big as the entirety of his face and slender, long fingers all dressed in cuts and blisters from drumming with all his might. Even in their teenage years, Ashton’s hands have always been mesmerizing to Luke, especially comparing the size difference between their hands. Ashton’s has always dwarfed Luke’s in a way that no one else’s ever has before and probably never will again.

One thought that has somehow never plagued his mind is how absolutely devastatingly large Ashton’s hand looks on his thigh.

Wildest Dreams (ao3) - no_clue_who Luke/Ashton E, 16k

Summary: “Come with me? Two weeks away from the city and the noise,” Ashton said, “Just us for two weeks far away from everything.”

“What?”

“Come on, some fun time away.” Ashton says, grabbing his keys, “We can just have some fun.”

Some fun to Ashton probably means fucking for hours on end, eating food for days and not thinking about their responsibilities past waking up and eating. Luke knows its dumb to agree to this, doing mildy domestic with Ashton is always going to end with him hurt. Luke knows he dumb to agree but at the same time what does he have to lose?

you are the reason I never think twice (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton E, 15k

Summary: Luke was lucky to be able to stick in Ashton’s orbit through his first year. So how was he supposed to say no when the object of his affection tossed him the idea of being friends with benefits in his second?

”We’re both single, we know we’re compatible as friends, what harm could it do? Just a way to blow off steam,” Ashton had said one late night in his room with Luke sitting comfortably in his bed at the beginning of the fall semester.

If it’s the only way that Luke would ever be able to have Ashton, then so be it.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #smut #sex tw #fwb #fwb masterlist #masterlists

[lightyaoigami]

DIRECTOR'S CUT!! i would like to humbly request one moment you would like to discuss / give us insight on from each of the lacuna triptych (<- hoping that's the right word) if that is not too much <3 if that's too many things then i humbly ask specifically after transference, (<- off the top of my head the last one? if i'm wrong please obliterate me with laser eyes)

🚨 TRANSFERENCE MENTIONED 🚨

honestly this fic was a massive struggle to write. as you know i am always dogged by endings, tying up loose threads, etc. and this was a particularly challenging one given that kompromat was kind of a sleeper hit and adieu adieu drove traffic due to the E rating lmao. part of me wanted to do a layup and just write about them fucking nasty after they admit they recognize each other but something about that felt a bit...sour? to me. i have a mental disease where i am obsessed with the rotten and irredeemable and. actually im getting away from myself hang on. okay so the part i wish to discuss is below:

"Are you tired?" Light asked. 

"Tired?" L repeated, his gaze trained on the ceiling. "No. I'm not tired." He turned his head. Their faces were close enough that L's features became distorted, coming back into focus at very different angles as Light shut each eye in turn. "Are you tired?" 

"No," Light yawned. "I'm not tired."

so as the movie watchers among you may have surmised this entire series is based on my undying love for eternal sunshine of the spotless mind which is one of the best movies of all time imo. specifically, this scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIT3kcZMgQ8

"Please let me keep this memory, just this one."

ask me for the director's cut

#fic: transference #ask meme #tbh might come back and add moments from episodes 1 & 2 as well

[if-th3n-else]

Everybody shut up LACUNA COIL IS BACK

#Lacuna coil #new music new music new music #crying screaming hyperventilating etc. #im being normal about it #we haven't had new LC music in so long 😭 #if not counting comalies XX #although it's literally the best re interpretation of a band's own songs I've ever listened to it 😌 #but i am so happy to have new music #I've been into them for so long #but got a renewed obsession with black anima because i love this album so much #it's my second favourite of them #it's so good #anyway so happy to see they are continuing sounding harsher than before

[autumnalwalker]

Find The Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @toribookworm22.

My words to find were quiet, dare, & token.

Passing the tag to @andromedaexists, @blind-the-winds, @oh-no-another-idea, and the usual open tag to anyone else who wants it.

You words to find shall be jolt, remote, & toy.

Now, time for Lacuna mixing trans angst with mad science!

Quiet: Empty Names - 21 - Changeling Child

“I don’t want her to worry about me,” she mumbles.  “Same for Road.”

“You mean to say that becoming stuck as a faceless imitation of a human being all night is not cause for concern?”

“It’s fine!” Lacuna snaps defensively and then shrinks back from her own raised voice.  “It’s fine,” she says more quietly.  “I’m fine.  I’m fine.  It’s a problem I’ve been working for a while now and that’s not even the worst thing that’s happened to me so far.  And the enchantment had a safety timer built in, so I would have been fine.” She raises her head, looking through Ashan rather than at him.  “Compared to some of the other mishaps, this one actually felt… nice?  It was quiet.  Like all the thoughts going in my head all the time finally shut up for once and let me just be.  Awareness without a sense of self to be aware of and in a room with no external stimulus.”  She slaps a hand to her forehead and laughs.  “Okay, wow, that does sound bad when I say it aloud, but I promise I’m fine.  It was actually about as restful as sleeping, I’m just a bit frazzled right now from the sudden jolt back into things.  And probably dehydration.  And maybe low blood sugar.  But I’m good now.  Mostly”

Dare: Empty Names - 10 - Cleanup

She suspects those two hadn’t really needed saving themselves, but Glassheart had definitely made it easier for them to get those last two passengers out unharmed.  And he’d looked amazing doing it, no matter which point of view she watched the feed from.  The fluttering dress, the flowing wand motions, and that conjuration at the end.  Goddess, now that was the sort of working that she’d only ever heard about.  Having gotten to see it, even remotely, is almost enough to take the sting out of wishing that could have been her out there doing that, being even half that useful.  Half that brave.  Half that - dare she even think it? - that beautiful.

She indulges a self-deprecating chuckle.  All this, all her… well her everything and now she finds herself wishing she could be like a guy.  Well, to be fair, it’s one specific guy whom she would still be mistaking for a girl if someone hadn’t said something.  Yeah, no one ever needs to know about that mixup.  Seriously, of all people, she should know better by now than to assume.  At least she’d realized her mistake before she actually said anything.  That would have been mortifying.

Token: Empty Name - 17 - Embedded Media

She takes off her gloves, reaches into a cargo pocket on her pants, and fishes out a thin metal sheet, slightly longer and wider than her open hand with the fingers pressed together.  A spiraling, branching mess of mutilated glyphs cover both sides, one for the incantation recording and one for the desired end effect.  

Small, simple changes compounded over time.  That’s the way to do it.  Just alter one body part at a time, and control the speed of the ritual to keep the change gradual, only pushing further when it feels right.  

She’d tried almost this exact same experiment a week back, and the change had lasted a solid twenty minutes after the ritual ended.  Far longer than the seventeen seconds she got out of the full body attempt, but still shorter than what someone with proper training and experience could pull off and nowhere near permanent.  Shortly after she started visiting Crossherd regularly she’d found an alchemist’s shop selling potions that claimed to do the same thing for a full day.  Sure they’d only ever lasted about an hour for her, and that was before she built up a tolerance from drinking one every night for a month straight, but at least they never left her chest itching all the next day like her last experiment had.  The effect on her psyche of seeing and feeling them wear off earlier and earlier until they barely did anything at all had probably been fuel for her current autogenesis issues though.  But that’s what she’s fixing now.  Hopefully.

The idea of tying the transmutive effect to an object was one she had been toying with even before the last mission, but seeing all those natural-born shapeshifters with their abilities tied to a token of some sort made her all that more confident that there was something to it.  And if she has to carry around a veritable deck of enchanted metal cards everywhere she goes to keep a body that feels right, then that’s a small price to pay.

Having learned from past mistakes regarding sudden shifts in center of mass, Lacuna takes a cross-legged seat on the floor, clasps the metal card to her chest, activates the stored incantation, and focuses on the new reality she wants for her body.  

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #tag game #writing tag games #find the word tag #word find tag