#remember the allied troops

[em-dash-press]

How Authors Write Fictional Wars

Some of our favorite novels include wars. They might stretch over a trilogy or build within a single book. Writing one might seem staggering, but it just takes a different planning approach. Use these tips to write a fictional war for your next story and make your readers feel like it really happened.

Foundational Factors to Consider

1. Your Opposing Sides

Wars always have at least two opposing sides. Start there and develop them before deciding if you need a third or fourth side involved. Cover details like:

What does each side want?

What would each side settle for?

What is each side’s worst-case scenario?

What is each side’s hard no? (What wouldn’t they sacrifice or do to win their cause?)

2. Who Supports the Opposing Sides and Why

As a war progresses, each side loses resources. They start running out of money, soldiers, and whatever public support they had when they started the war due to citizens losing their loved ones or sacrificing for the cause.

Your protagonist and antagonist will need to ask for help eventually. Who would support them and why?

There are numerous reasons why someone might pick one side of a war over another. Politics and economics are often the first things leaders consider. The morality behind each side is another factor.

Consider the American Revolution. Many historians believe America would have lost without France sending money, troops, food, and supplies. Why would France support a budding nation over Great Britain? People argue it was because the French:

Wanted to humiliate the British king

Wanted to hurt their British military rival by partnering with America

Wanted to weaken the British kingdom by ending the colonial taxes they benefited from

Wanted to gain power on a global standing by overcoming Great Britain and rising as America’s first ally

These reasons are great examples of what your novel could include. Another country, kingdom, or group could rise in sudden support for your protagonist or antagonist, ultimately throwing chaos into the determined path of war for better or worse.

3. The War’s Terrain

People can break into battle almost anywhere, depending on your fictional world. Your characters could fight:

On land

On sea

In space

In the air

Underground

Online

Some terrain also comes with other considerations. If your war happens on an ocean, will storms and hurricanes affect battles or the ultimate outcome? How will the soldiers and leaders on both sides deal with the weather?

Note these possibilities as you plan your novel. You can add them in as background or crucial plot devices once you have a skeletal structure in place for your story.

Need help remembering everything you’ve imagined? Try making a map and keeping it wherever you write.

4. What Would Make Each Side More or Less Powerful

There’s always something that could give one side an advantage over the other. It’s often in an unexpected way, although you could make the advantage a goal. The bad guys might feel confident in their ability to win, but they have a secret mission to develop a new weapon just to give them a greater advantage.

Other factors to consider would be one side or another doing something like:

Discovering or enacting a magic system

Eliminating a crucial resource their enemy depends on

Removing funding that makes their enemy able to fight by befriending or overcoming their enemy’s financial backers

Changing the positive or negative public perception of the other side’s reason for fighting to change national morale

Doing something that makes one side’s leaders more or less moral (which could change public perception, the soldiers’ vigor, the leadership’s advisory team together, etc.)

6. What Kinds of Conflict You’ll Write

There are two types of basic conflict you’ll likely write when navigating a fictional war. You may not need both if your story is shorter, but adding both makes the plot more realistic.

First, there’s external conflict. You’ll have at least two opposing sides on some kind of battlefield, sneaking around on spy missions, planning surprise attacks, etc.

Secondly, there’s internal conflict. Soldiers might start fighting amongst each other, people in leadership positions could lose trust in each other, citizens might turn on their country’s cause for one reason or another, etc.

7. What Weaponry Your Characters Will Use

The weapons used in your war depend on numerous factors. It will draw from the genre you’re writing, the time period your story takes place, the advancements made in each civilization’s weaponry prior to the war, and any advancements made while the war goes on.

Examples of these could be:

Guns

Swords

Bows

Bombs

Drones

Armed ships

Armed space ships

You should also consider if one side’s weaponry is more likely to change during the course of the war. That’s more plausible if your story or characters change locations where regional cultures use different weapons. Also if the war spans years, people will naturally develop new weaponry during that time.

If you want extra details to daydream about, think about which weapons will become outdated during your story. Some will prove less useful due to complicated usage or cleaning. They also may not work, like if your science fiction characters follow their enemy underwater, but their laser guns require a dry atmosphere to function.

Include Emotional Plot Arcs

Writing always involves some kind of emotional work that results in a plot arc. It keeps the reader engaged by evoking their core feelings. That’s what makes a novel different from a textbook (in a very basic sense).

Work on details like these to find what emotions will be most present and relevant to your story:

Your overall theme

Your characters and what they experience

The action your characters will go through

How the above action will change your characters by affecting their loved ones

What your characters’ goals mean to them emotionally

If your characters’ will undergo things that change their perception of their world, leaders, country, or themselves

You don’t need all of these things to have an emotional plot arc, but they’re relatable human elements that can drive your plot right into your readers’ hearts.

Avoid Some War Story Tropes

Tropes have a bad reputation that I don’t think is entirely deserved. People recognize them as overdone stereotypes, but sometimes they’re useful.

When you’re writing a war, you’re going to have necessary tropes like:

The hero

The unit or squad

The antagonist

What they undergo and who they become is how you make them fresh concepts for your readers.

Some tropes aren’t helpful because they’re what readers expect from every story. If you give them what they expect, your story isn’t as engaging (unless you get the occasional reader who exclusively reads war novels and never tires of overdone tropes).

Keep these in mind as things to avoid, unless you have an ingenious way to make them a brand-new experience:

One soldier dying in another’s arms

A character dying by going out “in a blaze of glory”

Characters using guns in ways that are obviously wrong (i.e., firing more bullets than the gun-type/model holds)

Getting military rank incorrect (if your characters exist in a real-world, already existing military structure)

Injury-proof characters (even your protagonist will eventually encounter some physical harm, whether it’s illness in bad weather or getting shot on a battlefield)

You can check out this great resource to discover more tropes to avoid/consider as you draft your plot outline. 

-----

If it feels like writing a war over the course of a book or a series is challenging, you’re not alone. There’s a lot to consider to make it have an engaging flow.

Keep notes on things like these to develop your story as much as possible before starting your first draft. You can always go back and add or edit things out as needed while developing it. Writers do this all the time—you don’t need to get any manuscript perfect on your first try.

#writing war #writing warfare #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing inspiration #writing community #writing help #writing resources #writing action #writing conflict #writing batlles

[darkenedurge]

𝐏𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐧 𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰. (𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭)

.

CONTENT : Fem Durge | Voyeurism, kinda | Unethical use of the SteelWatch (LOL) | Male Masturbation | Sex / P in V Sex (in the form of daydreams) | Jealous Gortash | Gortash being the horny, gross mf he is | Past Durgetash.

A/N : this is super short, sorry,, but i had to get the idea outta my head AGH

.

Just a peek wouldn’t hurt. That’s, at least, what he told himself. Convinced himself. He was merely assuring she was safe, guarding and protecting her well-being. He, after all, believed himself to be the only one adequate of doing so.

Gortash peers, observes, for a moment. A moment too long, and several moments after that. She’s been thrust into yet another, thousandth fight – Orin’s putrid assassins. For a split-second, his stomach fleetingly churns. If he weren’t of sound mind, of faith - in her - he would’ve sent guards, troops, marching on after her. But no, she’s capable. She always has been.

He watches, watches, watches, as her pretty, pretty face gleams with sweat – as wounds sting her skin, tear at her armour. As she casts spell, after spell, with profound efficiency that he’d scarcely recognised in anyone else. If ever. She grunts, groans, as her blade rips through man after man, woman after woman.

And Gortash has to shift in his seat, achingly hard. Nothing could turn him away from her, not in all the realms. But this, this certainly turned him toward her. His lashes flutter as he recalls memories of her drawing blood as they kissed, rolling her hips painfully against his as she dragged her blade – harmlessly, down his chest. Her sweet, honeyed moans of delight. Of ecstasy, as he drove mercilessly into her warm, wet cunt.

The remembrance of the fluttering and squeezing of her walls around his cock sends his hand beneath the waistband of his pants. He longs for her again, eyes fixated upon her battle worn face – her uncharacteristically delicate hands, as she aids a wounded ally. He grimaces as she cups their face, thumb swiping over tainted, bloodied skin. Her lips, pressing against theirs. Gortash’s anger only serves in pleasing him further, for better or worse – his hand, pumping his cock at a relentless pace. His leg shakes, his lips part – guttural groans, and whimpers of her name spilling out, rolling off of his tongue in rageful bliss.

Gortash remembers how her hand felt. Not too cold, but not hot. Barely warm, slender fingers curling around the girth of him so easily, so sweetly. She’d tease his tip with her thumb, tease him with long, languid strokes – drooling her spit upon the head, serving her strokes to be slicker. He loved it. Loved her.

Visions sputter into his mind. Her half-lidded eyes, the breath of an ‘I love you’ ghosting pass her lips as he buried himself inside her. It’s all too much, and he topples over the edge with a strained moan – his hand, his clothes, shamefully sticky. His eyes are instinctively squeezed shut, and he forces them to re-open.

He sees her, smiling. And Gods, how he misses her evermore.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #bg3 #bg3 durge #durgetash #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #durgetash posting #liliana posts durgetash (again) #durgetash rambles

[zvaigzdelasas]

"To the Americans, I say to you, remember your defeats in Lebanon, Iraq, in Afghanistan and remember how you humiliatingly withdrew from Afghanistan," he said. "Today, Americans, I say to you, that those who defeated you in Lebanon at the beginning of the 80s, they are still alive and together with them we have today their children and their grandchildren."

In the midst of Lebanon's devastating 15-year civil war and an Israeli invasion, U.S. and French members of the Multinational Force in Lebanon were targeted in a twin suicide bombing attack in October 1983, killing 241 U.S. military personnel in the deadliest day for the U.S. military since the Tet Offensive of the Vietnam War, as well as 58 French personnel. The attack was claimed by a Shiite Muslim group calling itself Islamic Jihad, not to be confused with the Sunni Muslim Palestinian Islamic Jihad, but U.S. officials have directly blamed the then newly formed Hezbollah, along with its ally, Iran.

That one's gotta sting, not supposed to talk abt that one [3 Nov 23]

[oriistar]

All I Want For Christmas..

König x GN Reader ᐤ Fluff

Summary: Your loving boyfriend is currently deployed. As the holiday season creeps closer to Christmas, you feel lonely knowing that König wouldn't be there, or so you thought..

Warnings: Mentions of seasonal depression.

The seasons had been creeping by slowly, bringing the changing of weather and leaves. The warm and inviting hues of Autumn were always comforting but as November passed and you were eased into December and the thrall of the winter season, it became harder to ignore a dreadful feeling in your chest. The frosty streets of the Northern American city you lived in was decorated with bright Christmas lights and decorations. You saw the decorations and happy families every day when you walked your little corgi, Bagel, but for some reason the infectious joy was lost on you. You struggled most of your life with seasonal depression and usually you found ways to preoccupy yourself turning the holiday months but none of your tactics were working this year and you knew exactly why.

Around two years ago you had signed yourself up for a pen pal program, created to boost morale in troops across the globe. This program wasn't specific to American troops though, it was meant to randomly assign you a soldier in any allied countries army including private military contractors. You figured it'd be fun in your free time, to send an occasional letter and possibly learn about a foreign country depending on what kind of soldier you were assigned to. You just so happened to be assigned to a KorTac soldier stationed in Austria. For an entire year you had sent letters back and forth, getting to know the soldier named König. After a year of continuous letters, you started to develop feelings for the man who seemed so sweet yet mysterious. You had no clue what he looked or sounded like, you only knew as much as he told you but it was hard not to feel some kind of affection for the man. A year of letters later, you had decided to meet him in person next time he had leave. 

It was awkward and he definitely wasn't what you were expecting. König was a huge man and even if you knew he was kind and quite a gentleman, he still scared you shitless when he locked on you at the airport and approached you with such meaningful strides. He was so sweet though, and even if he did scare you at first, you grew to find an immense comfort and safety in his presence. The meeting only made your feelings for him grow and unbeknownst to you, he was certainly feeling the same attraction. More letters and a few visits later, you two had confessed your feelings and began a loving a healthy relationship together. 

This was your first holiday season with König as your boyfriend but the excitement of it quickly wore off when you remembered that he was deployed halfway across the world and wouldn't be able to take the holidays off. It only served to make the seasonal depression worse with the knowledge that the love of your life wouldn't be there on Christmas Day. You had received a letter from him just last week, saying how much he wished he could be with you but you didn't have the heart to send one in return. You desperately wished he was allowed to have a phone on base so that you could call him on Christmas Day at the very least. You couldn't even send him any actual gifts, it wasn't within KorTac regulations.

It was a very frustrating scenario with no real solution. Eventually you decided to try your very hardest to pretend like it didn't bother you but often you'd catch yourself snuggling sadly, on the verge of tears thinking about your lover and how much you missed him. It made you feel kind of pathetic too. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to start dating him, he had even warned you that he would often miss important holidays and such but that didn't make it hurt any less now that you were experiencing it.

With a soft sigh, you decided to compose your letter in response to the one König had sent you a week ago. He was probably worried about not having a response yet and you didn't want to give him any additional reasons to be an anxious mess. 

-

Dear König, 

  I'm missing you a lot. I know you're busy, I just wish you would have been able to take this Christmas off. Bagel misses you a whole bunch too, he's always sitting by the door waiting for you to come back. Sometimes I consider sitting with him…

  I hope you're keeping warm and safe. I bet the snow over there is much deeper than it is here. Do they decorate on base for the holidays? I don't think I've ever asked you that now that I think about it.. I've been trying very hard to keep myself happy but I can't help but think about you constantly. I miss the way you hold me through the night, or when you kiss my forehead, and hold my hand.. I miss listening to your stories from missions and antics with your teammates. I miss everything about you but I know you knew that already, it's usually all I talk about in these letters. 

  Here's to hoping next year I get to keep you for the holidays. I'm sure my family will love to have you over for your first Thanksgiving, I know we talked about you wanting to experience that American tradition eventually. I got you some Christmas presents too. I put them under the tree and they're all wrapped even though I know you won't be able to open them until February, at least it'll still be a little chilly out then. Maybe we can recreate a little Christmas, I'll even set the tree back up before you get here. 

I can't wait to be in your arms again. Please come home to me safely. 

Love, y/n

-

You sniffled a little as you finished the letter but you wouldn't let yourself cry again. You spritzed the paper with a spray of the usual perfume you'd wear, something König had said before that he loved. He had written in his letters how the scent of your perfume would make him relax after a long day and occasionally those letters would delve into more intimate territories. 

You folded the letter and slipped into an envelope. You quickly wrote down the required information and pressed a stamp onto the top corner of the envelope. You got up to get dressed in something warm, simple jeans and one of König’s thick jackets that he had accidentally left behind the last time he had come to visit you. Although you referred to your apartment as you and König’s home, he didn't actually live with you yet. He lived in Austria but honestly spent more time on his vacations with than at home, only staying long enough to see his family before he caught a flight to America to see you. As a result, he often left behind clothing. König was a big guy so the jacket he left behind was quite over sized on you and did an amazing job at keeping you warm.

The post office wasn't very far from the apartment complex you lived in so often you'd just take Bagel for a walk and mail the letters from the post office directly. The little corgi was already excited and was jumping around as you slipped on his harness and leash. You walked out the door, letter in hand with a sigh, hoping that König would get the letter soon..

𓆩♡𓆪

Halfway across the world, on the Austrian KorTac base, König was in just as bad shape as you were. Winter was his favorite season and he didn't suffer from seasonal depression like you but he was devastated at the fact that he wouldn't be able to see you for the holidays. He had been mopping around quite a bit and it definitely didn't go unnoticed by his teammates. König wasn't the most sociable person but at the very least he'd talk with his team during their daily PT or meal times but he'd been more closed off than usual the past few weeks. 

Truly, he was feeling very anxious about you. Worried to leave you all alone even though he knew you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. He had sent you a letter in the last week of November and it's been over two weeks with no return letter. Usually your letters were delivered quickly so he didn't understand why he hadn't heard back from you yet. He swallowed thickly as he lay in the bed of his private room. He felt awful, and all he wanted was to see you and hear your sweet voice welcoming him back to your small but cozy little apartment. To put his large hands on your hips and kiss the life out of you. He groaned, his face flushing pink behind his sniper hood. It was only midday but he didn't have much to do, being a commanding officer surprisingly left him with some time to himself for once as he didn't have anything really important to tend to. 

A loud knock on the heavy metal door to his room pulled him out of his thoughts and with a groan, he rolled his large frame out of the squeaky bed that was far too little for him. He pulled the door open to find one of his comrades, Horangi, at the door. The small Korean man held and envelope out to him with a rather disinterested look on his face. “Surprise, your beuja finally sent you a letter.” Horangi said. König’s face flushed red at that, not bothering to correct Horangi when he called you König’s ‘spouse’. “Danke..” He muttered as he took the letter and Horangi headed off to hand out a few other letters, not one to pry in König’s personal business. 

As soon as the door was shut, König resisted the urge to hop around his room like an excited child. He ripped the envelope open and nearly salivated at the smell of your sweet perfume. His excitement was snuffed out though as he read the letter and he frowned deeply. “Oh, mein engel..” he muttered sadly. Although it sent a thrill through him that you thought about him so often, he was also incredibly saddened to hear that you were so caught up about his absence. König bit his lip and cast a glance at the calendar hanging up by his door. It was only December 15th and he tried to think of something he could do to ease your troubled mind. 

He wasn't scheduled for leave until February, but he was a Colonel, surely there were some strings he could pull. He smoothed out the folded letter with his large thumb before he brought the paper up to his covered nose, breathing in deeply so hebcould inhale the scent of the perfume. Yes, surely he could find a decent enough excuse that would let him take an early leave, he had enough influence with his ranking.. he would just have to try, even if it meant getting turned down and having to endure some physical punishment for asking.

𓆩♡𓆪

As time wore on, you were getting more and more restless. You hadn't received a letter back and if König had written one, you probably wouldn't get it until around New Year's due to how crazy the postal service was around this time of year. You'd be surprised if he got your letter either. 

It was Christmas Eve and only around 6 pm. You were in the kitchen preparing a small Christmas dinner for yourself and Bagel. All of your friends were busy with their own families and your family lived across the country so you were left alone for the night. Although your heart yearned for König, you tried not to let it completely ruin the holiday. You had planned to make a small ham and a few sides, something you could eat tomorrow night for leftovers as well. You were going to watch Christmas movies with Bagel curled up in your lap, wearing his cute little Christmas sweater that your mom had crocheted for him last year. It was lonely and a little sad but you found a bit of comfort knowing that you weren't the only person in the world spending Christmas alone. You just hoped that König was having a nice time on base. 

As you were putting the finishing touches on the small dinner and singing along to the Christmas music you had blasting through the apartment, Bagel's ears perked up and he jumped from his spot on the couch, rushing over to the door. You weren't paying attention, the music too loud to hear anything but it and your singing along. 

The lock turned and the front door was carefully pushed open. Bagel started barking, his nubbed tail wagging a mile a minute as he excitedly jumped around the stranger's legs. You couldn't hear the barking over the music and you danced around the kitchen as one of your favorite Christmas songs came on. 

König stood in the doorway, carrying a very heavy duffle bag and looking very exhausted. Despite how tiring his traveling was, his blue eyes immediately softened at the sight of you cooking in the kitchen and the sound of you singing along to Mariah Carrey’s ‘All I want For Christmas’. His heart swelled with love and he reluctantly pulled his eyes from you as he closed the front door and scooped Bagel up so he would finally stop his barking. He pulled down the mask he was wearing, thankful that the cold weather was a good excuse to wear one so he could feel a little more comfortable, and peppered kisses over Bagel's fluffy face. He set the dog down, unable to resist you. 

König’s large frame moved silently behind you, not that you'd hear his heavy boots over the music anyway. His hands reached out and gently rested on your hips. This elected a scream from you, and you whipped around ready to defend yourself against whatever intruder thought you'd be an easy target. Immediately König released you and cursed softly, not thinking about how easily that could scare you. “I'm sorry, mein schatz, I didn't mean to scare you.” He apologized but smiled warmly as he saw the realization on your face. 

Your eyes widened and lips parted in awe as you looked up at him, unable to comprehend that he was here and in your apartment. König shifted anxiously as he considered that maybe his surprise wasn't as well thought out as he hoped. Your hands drifted to his chest, resting them against his toned pecs and gently gripping at the soft grey shirt he was wearing. He was still wearing the KorTac regulations cargo pants and his combat boots. From the way he was dressed it seemed like he didn't even bother going to his own home before he got on a plane to get to you. He even still smelled a little earthy, just like the dusty training grounds on the base. 

“König.. I.. I thought you weren't going to be able to see me again until February, how..” you were a bit lost on what to say. You weren't expecting him to show up at all and it left you in a bit of a state of shock. You let your hands roam his clothed torso but your touches were innocent, just a way for your mind to solidify that he was really here. König smiled softly and you felt breathless seeing his handsome face for the first time in months. “Ja, don't worry, I took care of everything.” He said with a nod of his head as he grabbed your smaller hands and held them in his own. 

You were average height, but König was still quite a bit larger than you and it showed in the way his palms swallowed your hands. He had to lean down just a bit to press your lips together but when he did, you felt fireworks and butterflies each time. This time was no different and as your lips connected, you practically melted right into his arms. König loved that he had such an effect on you and he quickly wrapped his arms around you and tugged you into a strong embrace. As you broke the kiss to gasp for air, König pressed his forehead against your own. “I missed you so much, mein schatz.” He breathed out in a husky tone. “I'm all yours..” His accent deepened with his words, his eyes boring into you with a hunger you were all too familiar with. 

He reached past you to click off the stove, abandoning the dinner you were making as he practically dragged you to your bedroom. He would be more than happy to cuddle with you and watch cringe Christmas movies while drinking hot cocoa but first, he needed to show you a different reason for you to be happy during the winter months..

All of my writing is original work created by me. Please do not repost, translate, or alter them in any way.

#call of duty #konig x reader #könig x reader #konig #könig #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #cod #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #konig cod #könig cod #fanfic #writing #x reader #oriistar

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

One more thing I forgot to post re: Eugenie vs the Sussexes.

During the Platinum Jubilee when the Sussexes were doing the most to try to get pictures with the other royals or even to get them to Frogmore for LilD’s birthday, Eugenie would have been their natural and easy target ally.

Instead the Sussexes made a very public play for the Philips/ Tindalls. All the cousins were in the same room at Horse Guards, but the Sussexes were photographed variously with the junior Philips/ Tindalls and The Duke of Kent. The few Long lens pics into the room showed that no one was talking to Meghan or Harold except for one pic of Harold with Kent.

Then the Sussexes leave Horse Guards presumably to return to Frogmore, and miss the flypast. Eugenie posts lots of pics from the flypast which show that Zara, Beatrice are with her on a rooftop at SJP.

Later that afternoon/ early evening Zara, Mike, Beatrice, Edo, Jack and Eugenie are papped coming out of a London restaurant following group lunch, which Mike later revealed involved all the royal cousins+ spouses who weren’t on the balcony. Only the Sussexes don’t attend because they’d gone back to Frogmore. 

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10896165/Mike-Tindall-reveals-outstanding-cousins-lunch-Harry-Meghan-didnt-attend.html

The next day the Sussexes put out PR about a birthday party for LilD which they claim was attended by the Philips/ Tindalls and their children, but the two families were very visibly at the races most of that day and the distance between locations to attend both events would have been impossible especially as the Philips/ Tindall families had booked London hotels for Jubilee weekend and centred all their activities in/ around London give or take afew miles outside it. 

***********

I do remember these well. 

I don’t think Harry and Meghan not being in Eugenie’s Trooping video (remember how pissed everyone got at her because Wolfie’s face was visible, when Beatrice and Edo hadn’t been showing his face? ah, good times) is because of the falling out. I think it was just the logistics the Queen/Charles had put in place for handling the Sussexes. It was implied that Harry and Meghan were only invited to the official ceremonial events, and once something ended, they were herded back to their car and sent home to FrogCott to wait for tomorrow’s event. So what happened at the service of thanksgiving (where they left in a car that took them to FrogCott while everyone else bussed over to the guildhall for the reception) is what happened after Trooping: everyone else was carriaged/bussed back to Buckingham while the Sussexes were sent home and then all the cousins decided to go out for lunch.

Supposedly that’s why they left early  - they were upset by how closely they were being controlled by palace handlers regarding the events, but knew they couldn’t complain (publicly at least) because they needed the optics of being with Lili for her first birthday so they could use the public spotlight to pressure the BRF into giving them the Lilibet Meets Lilibet photo.

Also it has been alleged that Anne was livid the Sussexes got the photo ops they did with her grandchildren. I have also heard that Autumn and Zara were upset too, which is allegedly why they bailed on the birthday party after promising to go (I’m not sure I believe this one because Zara absolutely would’ve already had plans with her family for the weekend). I think what really happened with the birthday party is Harry invited them, they said “we’ll let you know,” which the Sussexes interpreted as “yes” and thus all the PR.

#ask #brf #platinum jubilee

[alice-angel12x]

Death isn't so scary

Lilia x Death! reader

(behold my amateur photoshop skills)

Lilia had lived a very long life, and had seen many things come and go. The world was constantly changing, spells, technology, and even fashion statements were different in a flash. Yet There was one thing, or one person who never changed, not even time could change them, other than the names they went by.

Lilia could remember clearly as day the first time they saw Y/n of Death. It was during the war between Humans and Fea. In one of the battles the humans faced a humiliating loss, and General Lilia and his army reviled in their victory. When he noticed a lone figure on the field. Draped in a dark cloak, with chains tied around the hip that two scythes dangled from their hip.

The young cocky warrior Lilia thought the figure was a single surviving human left. With a smirk, he decided to scare the life out of this human. So with his large jade buster blade, teleported above and tried to slam down on the figure.

Only for the figure to stop the blade with one of their scythes. Lilia struggled to force the sword down or break free from the entanglement. But the scythe's curved blade caught the silver vines that wrapped around Lilia's own. Yet the figure stood perfectly still as the continued to block the blade.

"Your quite strong for a mortal, where were you when your friends needed you," Lilia smirked as his allies gathered around.

"Your a bit late human," The general mocked, as the rest laughed.

"Do not laugh," The figure scoffed. " DO NOT BE PROUD OF THIS MASSACRE!!"

With one swift movement, the figure sent the small Fae troop flying.

________________________________________

I remember clearly when they warned us Fae that we greatly underestimate humans. And that they will be back for us soon. Of course in my youth I did not believe them.

Yet their promise would soon be fulfilled as the humans started getting stronger. I began to lose my friends and allies left and right, with that eerie whistle haunting me every step of the way.

Eventually, both sides came to a draw, much to Fae kinds Ego. The thought of even acknowledging humans disgusted them. I wasn't the same after the war. We Fae live for so long that we forget that ultimately we are all powerless to death.

One night, when I went out to mourn the loss of my allies. When I noticed a familiar figure in the distance. I silently approached as I watched them pay their respects to the fallen. I could even see the sparkle of tears run down their face as they placed a flower on each of the graves.

"I know your there, General Lilia. Congratulations on your promotion by the way," Death said simply, not even turning to face Me.

"What are you doing here, demon?" I glared as I clutched my fist.

"Still refuse to admit what I am. Why are all Fae like this?" Death said with an annoyed sigh.

"What! It is your fault that they are dead. You cut their lives short!" I shouted as I readied my weapon.

"My fault... MY FAULT!" Death shouted in rage as they knocked me off my feet, slamming me into a tree. "I never really understand why you fae were made this way. I told Life that giving them a millennium's worth of life, absurd."

"You Fae think because you live so long you are above everything. Even your queen brags how she is above death," Death growled as they reached for my blade. "You take things for granted and waste your time in this life, believing your hot $&@%."

I wanted to shout, scream that they were wrong. They were just cruel being that takes life as they, pleased. Memories of my loved ones flashed in my mind, only for the images to fash to their course in the mud. Suddenly my blade was logged into the tree next to my face.

"Pick it up," Death ordered, but... I couldn't everyone I love and care for... Are gone.

"Why did you spare me?" I asked hopelessly.

"Spare you... I did not spare you. Your skills and luck are what saved you. My job is simply to be there when mortal life is about to end," Death said as they stared into my soul. " Don't take anything in life for granted, no matter how fast and fleeting it may seem. And by the end of your life, you will be content."

They said as they pulled away to turn and leave. I... I had to ask. Why were they... Death themself giving me life advice.

"Because it will be important later down the road. When you will teach this to Malleus, Silver, and Sebek," They answered.

"W-who?" I asked, those were names I couldn't recall.

"They will look to you when the time comes, take good care of them," Was all they said.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Years later I would meet these people, very talented young Fae and human. And I'm glad I did stop to smell the roses of life. I never realized just how quickly humans changed, from technology to even fashion statements. And Every once and a while, no matter where in the world I went. They were there. At times they were in a place of mourning, but a lot of the time they were smelling the roses too.

Never once in my life would I ever thought I would spend a good century getting to know Y/n of Death. One could even say we're friends. But after some time, Y/n just vanished suddenly. Until now.

One night, Malleus vanished on one of his strolls. As Sebek and Silver ran all over the school in search of the prince. I decided to check around ramshackle, where I heard a familiar haunting whistle.

So I only did the logical thing, and whistle along as I followed the sound to its source. And there they were, the same wolf-eared figure standing alone in the open field behind Ramshackle.

"Greetings old friend," I spoke up, Y/n's ears flicked in acknowledgment as they turned to look back at me.

"Hello to you too, Lilia. Wow, you sure look old," Y/n laughed.

I rolled my eyes with a small laugh and stood next to them, as we both just enjoyed the beautiful night.

___________________

Bonus scene: inspired by an anonymous ask.

After many late-night game sessions and improper sleep, Lilia slowly follows behind Malleus and Silver. As his eyes wandered his eyes soon landed on his ancient friend, who was walking towards them. Y/n noticed Lilia's stares, so they stopped to greet them. Only to be met with Lilia's tired mumblings.

"You look like you're going to drop dead. Are you ready to cross over?" Y/n asked as a joke.

"Alright...HIT ME" Lilia shouted as he stood tall with his arms wide open.

Everyone standing around, including Malleus and Silver, look on in shock.

"..I'm sorry what ?" Malleus asked.

"I said, you can go ahead...take me, angel," Lilia said as he fell forward into Y/n's arms.

Y/n chuckle softly as they scoop up the tiny old fae and just handed him over to Silver.

"...Your dad is tired..isn't he ?" Y/n commented with an amused smile.

"I can see that now." Silver nodded.

#twisted wonderland #Death!reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia x reader

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

Oooo anyway I just remember why I Hate and Loathe the big High Lord meeting in ACOWAR and why it fully cements SJM in my Worst Authors category for like a billion reasons

1. Feyre refuses to bow to the Dawn Court. Weird choice and completely fucking awkward to read - I guess this is meant as some kind of Girlboss Moment - like "no, I won't bow to the stinky old fashioned MEN!!!! who run this world. My super hot boyfriend gave me this title and I'm the master of the universe now." But it's... childish. Also? Way to disrespect Thesan but this is going to become a pattern because of course the gay Asian High Lord has no special powers apart from super good healing that literally every other character can accomplish, and of course he's gentle, and passive (ultimately willing to "bow [to Rhysand] if the other [High Lords] will") and of course his lover has no name and never speaks. Great! Hate it.

2. Morrigan and Vivian. On paper this seems interesting as far as a relationship goes like - what kind of interesting Court relations did Night have pre Amarantha and can those bonds be salvaged? But instead of asking those questions the scene decides to immediately undercut Vivian's character as a badass general and warrior who defended Winter in her childhood friend/future husband's absence by making her squeal like a literal 13 year old when the Night Court - who is suspected of murdering 24 children - shows up. Vivian proceeds to throw a fit and snarks about wanting to be a High Lady. Rip Vivian we hardly knew ye.

3. Do I even need to talk about Helion being the worst bisexual rep. Do I even need to say it. Good lord.

4. Do I even need to talk about Fantasy China and Helion being allied with the Faerie Confederates. Do I even need to explain this. It gets worse, somehow!

5. Tamlin and Tarquin actually have a case against allying with the Night Court given literally everything that happened in the last two books but this isn't painted as reasonable distrust of a group of lying backstabbing sycophants who purposefully play up their cruelty and keep secrets from the other Courts. No, of course not. Tarquin immediately forgives the Night Court because he has no backbone whatsoever apparently. Tamlin is considered unreasonable for not trusting Feyre and Rhys, who have continuously tried to hurt him and his people and undermine his authority as High Lord.

6. Everyone immediately forgets that Rhysand worked for Amarantha for 50 years and distrusts Tamlin, who has worked for Hybern for all of five minutes and also brings tons of information on their troop movements and positions, confirming that all of his so called alliance was a fraud and he's been spying on them the whole time.

7. Literally the whole fucking deal with the Winter Court. Like I'm sorry that Rhys is so sexual traumatized by Amarantha but children fucking died in a horrible, gruesome way that now, nobody can be accountable for. This is on my top 3 of most egregious SJM retcons because I'm supposed to believe that some daemati we've never heard of before, is never mentioned or seen again, is supposedly the missing link to absolve Rhysand of the fact that he murdered 24 children in book one and devastated the Winter Court. Give me a fucking break. And Feyre gets so SAD and hurt when Rhys says he was confined to Amarantha’s bedroom, but I guess dead kids in Winter and Spring are just the price you pay for loving a morally gray bryonic hero uwu. I'd say, "Get fucked," but i think Rhys and Feyre would enjoy that too much.

8. When the Autumn Court says mean things it makes them irredeemable, but when Azriel and Feyre break all the rules of magic and physically retaliate and hurt other people, it's a-okay, and totally justified! Oh, the Lady of Autumn (another unnamed, sad silent [white] victim who only exists for Helion to angst over) gets hurt by virtue of being a bystander? Totally cool and normal, and since she's been a victim of domestic violence before, it means that she's a secret good guy who will totally understand and forgive Feyre for her totally justifiable outburst. Fuck off.

9. Feyre speaking to and ordering Azriel around like a literal rabid dog. Do I even need to explain this and why its bad. Do I even need to say it.

10. This scene was a joke and everything about it was a stinking trash fire.

#anti sjm #anti acowar #like.... do i need to explain the racism and homophobia?? the misogyny???? i hope not

[usnatarchives]

D-Day: Operation Overlord

On June 6, 1944, over 160,000 Allied troops, including Americans, British, and Canadians, embarked on a courageous mission known as Operation Overlord. The D-Day invasion, as it would be famously known, marked the beginning of the end of World War II.

The largest seaborne invasion in history, D-Day saw troops land on five Normandy beaches, codenamed Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno, and Sword. The assault started with airborne operations, and naval forces bombarded the coastal defenses before the landing of ground troops.

The D-Day invasion was a logistical feat. From deception tactics, such as Operation Fortitude, which misdirected German attention from Normandy, to the innovation of the Higgins boats, it showcased ingenuity as well.

The cost was steep; the Allies suffered heavy casualties. Yet their bravery and sacrifice led to the successful establishment of a Western front in Europe, a crucial step towards liberating the continent from the Nazi German regime.

As we look back on this historic day, we remember the extraordinary courage and dedication of all those who fought for freedom on the shores of Normandy.

#national archives #history #archives #wwii #normandy #dday #operation overlord #world war 2 #military #military history

[thisisnotthenerd]

bands of iron, bands of gold

Elody finds out about the siege from a messenger. Snowhold struck while her forces were scattered, holding back the rapid encroachment from the north.

“The women and children have gathered–,” he says, “--gathered in the cellar of the keep while the guardsmen defend from the parapets. They say the prince is with them, with so few guards to spare.”

“And what of the progress?” she pores over slowly shrinking territory on a map that changes every hour. The prince is with them.

“The castle walls have not been breached, and the keep remains unmolested. The people of Greenleigh are afraid, but hidden. They cannot last much longer without aid.”

“I will send all that I can, but we are more than a day’s ride out. Their forces here may yet seek to join the siege, and there are not enough soldiers even now to hold the line.”

“Whatever you can spare, your highness.” The prince is with them.

Prince Gerard is hidden in the keep of Castle Greenleigh, with the women and children of a falling kingdom.

As the troops under her command march back to the heart of Greenleigh, Elody cannot help the impulse to hold her mace. The gold, far less burnished now, dulled with the blood of enemy combatants, is far from the simple trinket it once was. This is not something that can be left to fall in a pond, to be found by something more than a frog. The weight of a kingdom rests in her hands, scepter and orb made a weapon of war.

She snaps back to attention as the verdant flags of Castle Greenleigh flutter on the horizon. The sigil of a lily flutters in the wind, torn to and fro as beings of ice and wind batter at the walls of the keep. The stones fall with every mile she pushes forth.

When all is said and done, the survivors emerge from the keep, eyes seeking the light and wincing at the brightness of the winter sun after weeks of darkness. One by one, they emerge from a battered keep, seeking the comfort of home.

She does not wait to see if he comes up, safe in the hope that he would not have left the castle.

The call to search comes hours later, when no one has seen the prince in over a day. Those that stayed with him only recall the reflection of bloodshot eyes in a shadowed corner, and the reassurance that war could not reach them dying down in the final days.

In all the rubble and destruction, there are many bodies–but none that she knows, warped as it has become.

Prince Gerard is gone, gone with the winds that battered the keep for days on end.

She sends scouts to search in the guise of monitoring the changes in borders as the Snow Queen sends her inhuman armies. Many people have fled Greenleigh in the wake of the battling soldiers, but there is no prince to be found among them.

The pond is her last resort–maybe the only place left in Greenleigh that has not truly been touched by war. It is a feeble hope that this worry might be allayed by whatever is there.

But indeed, there is only the pond she remembers from nearly twenty years ago–frozen over in the dead of winter, the frogs and fish far beneath the ice.

War has never stopped for love–why would it now? She cannot afford the time anymore than she can the heartbreak, buried as it is.

Prince Gerard is gone, gone like her parents, gone like the peace that Greenleigh cherished for decades.

Whispers of battles fought across the Neverafter reach Greenleigh as fast as all tales of war spread, rapid enough to know the nature of the danger only after the conclusion of the battle. Undead armies in the north, giants in Marienne, missing princesses and dead princes in faraway Elegy.

Jubilee is her closest ally in this ever growing war–the old king is solemn as he fights in the name of fiddlers three. When the kingdom falls she offers him a place in Greenleigh, if only for a moment’s respite. He thanks her, but leaves in the night for the Blackwood Forest.

After a while, she stops hearing from Old King Cole. At first, she sends scouting parties down the road to Shoeberg to track the latest caravan. The people who flee may brave the haunts of the Blackwood to find refuge in Shoeberg’s prosperity, as the world falls apart around it.

She goes herself on impulse, wanting to know what happened to the old king.

A ways off the path, she finds furniture, misshapen and warped into the proportions of men, wandering the Blackwood in search of flesh and blood, the magic that changed them fading into the air.

A day’s ride after she passes the border into Elegy, she happens upon a town, abandoned and falling apart as all things do in the Neverafter.

The remains of the fairy who made men of objects are easy to find in the outskirts of the abandoned home of the princess of Elegy. A large rotting pumpkin sits at the heart of a battlefield, surrounded by the rogue enchanted furniture. The fresh bodies are more unnerving than the silence of the clearing, disturbed only by the creaking of wood and metal joints that bend in strange and fractal ways.

The first is an old man–past the prime of life, limbs spread at odd angles–crushed by the enchanted creatures. He has the look of a budding witch, magic tinting the air around, but a strange lack of personal effects.

The second is that of a young woman in a tattered gown and small tiara. Her bow lays at her side, quiver emptied into the enchanted onslaught. The scavengers have already started to come for her far more than any other. When Elody moves the bow to try and see what felled this girl, this young princess far from the land of her birth, foreign briars creep up the wood towards her seeking hand. They do not grow from the cursed ground but seemingly from the girl herself.

The sight of a mutilated little girl is jarring; the various chests and tables surround a canyon in which she is the only occupant, presumably drawing fire from her allies. Had Elody and Gerard married earlier, she could have borne a daughter the same age as this girl in a red cloak, bearing the ax of a woodsman far larger than her.

The puppet left under the table must be the toy of the younger girl, abandoned on the battlefield. Shaped like a marionette’s attempt at a little boy, it reeks of fading enchantment magic and something else, darker than the innocent face would have her believe. The only thing marring the toy is a missing nose, ripped from a wooden face with clawed hands that do not match those of the martyred girl.

The cat in boots is peculiar, and sticks in her memories of Marienne, of a humble boy rising to become the Marquis de Carabas with the aid of a trickster. This little animal, mangled by magic, is far from the estate now, no title nor land to speak of. She would not have noticed it save for a little blue cape now stained with blood.

The fairy’s corpse is odd–the progress of rot and death more advanced than would be expected for something that could not have died more than a few days prior. At a glance, the magic sustaining her and the furniture is seeping into the blackened earth and spreading from the clearing with a vengeance. Elody brandishes her mace and approaches the fairy, hoping the magic is not a sign of the fairy’s life returning, when she sees it.

A glass shard, torn from a greater structure and bloodstained buried in the chest of a man whose eyes she recognizes, warped as they are. Gerard.

He looks more froglike than the last she saw of him, at the dinner table arguing that war could not reach them in the castle. His crown rests on his brow between bloodshot human eyes, ill-sized for a frog’s head. His hands, membranous and viridescent, are flayed where they desperately pull at the shard. The shard pins his body to the earth–much as she tries to remove it, she cannot without taking it into herself.

She walks from the battlefield, mace stowed and Gerard’s wedding ring on her right hand.

Prince Gerard is dead and gone, taken by the times of shadow. Not in Greenleigh, but in a forest, far from home, condemned again at the hands of a fairy.

#dimension 20 #d20 neverafter #neverafter #elody of greenleigh #neverafter elody #gerard of greenleigh #neverafter gerard

[mischiefmanaged71]

The Great War (2/10)

Summary: After landing in a place he has no idea about, Tom comes across someone who can finally help him get back to Manchester

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! reader

Tom seemed to be in better spirits than the previous day. She noted it in the back of her mind, the creases from stress had edged away slightly with rest. He relaxed in the bed, an arm propping his head up. 

She returned, packet in hand, crossing past the aisle of beds. It was quiet that morning, save for a few chattering nurses as most had settled into other rooms of the hospital. His head turned at the approaching footsteps, a light igniting in his eyes at the woman’s arrival.

“I hope you weren’t causing trouble in my absence?”

“No, I’ve been complacent, sadly. Not much to do round here.” a teasing look in his eyes.

She raised her eyebrows at that, placing the packet down on the bed, the bag falling to the floor. Y/N tucked her hair back, crossing to the bedside. “Time we change these.” she grazed her hand over the bandages across his shoulder and chest.

Y/N forced herself to hold her hands steadily as she gently urged him to sit up, hands drifting to his back to untuck the bandages. She stood over Tom, her hands revolving around his chest and back, unravelling the previous doctor’s work. A warmth crossed her cheeks, sensing his gaze no her focused expression. Her fingertips glossed over the wound gently, squinting at the still raw wound, the signs of the healing process slowly revealing. 

“It looks good.” she met his gaze, “Just needs to be cleaned.”

Y/N waited a moment, silently asking for permission as Tom nodded. “Do whatever you need to.”

She attended to the wound, cleaning away the dry remnants of blood still on his skin. Tom simply watched her as she focused; the furrowed eyebrows, the tight line of her lips. Tom’s breath was calm and for once, he was stunned into a silence as he watched her work. The brush of her gentle touch sent shivers along his skin, no matter the cold sensation of the alcohol solution.

“You need to keep this clean. Don’t strain yourself and it should be healed in a week or two.” She unravelled a new roll of bandages, twisting and turning to wrap the wound.

“Yes, Ma’am.” he mumbled, catching an amused look from her as she finished, tossing the dirty bandages and in the bin. 

“What’s it been like here?” his voice brought her back. “Since it started?”

She reflected on the passing months when the first battalion arrived. Although they lived off the coast of the capital, there were just as many invading troops sent to their city. She remembered the firing of guns, the screams of mothers reaching for their children. The cries of men falling to the ground. 

The blood shed.

“Not anything I would wish upon anyone.” she replied, “Seeing the fear and death each day. It’s...”

Tom watched as she sighed, a distant look as she shook her head, “You adapt to survive.”

“Do you have any family?” he asked as she looked up from her hands. The distant look in her eyes, the shakiness told Tom enough as she fell silent.

“Here, all we can do is fight the small battles. Hope that our allies will be there to help us with the ones we cannot do alone.”

“Is that why you stay here? Why you don’t leave?”

He saw the glistening of her eyes as she felt the true depths of the question. She could have many reasons for staying; her home, memories. The people still there. But her family were one of many that were lost when the Germans arrived in Paris. When the Nazis sent their battalions to the towns and instated their authority on the land. Fear is what they brought. She decided to conceal it, not let them see an ounce of it. To weaponize her fears and turn them into ammunition. To keep her community strong in the ways she knew how.

“Soldiers can’t fight if they’re dead.” she replied, clasping her hands. It was a blunt statement, but true. 

Tom’s face softened, a strange sensation filling his chest. And he listened, coaxed by the emotion in this woman’s voice as he grasped the experience of the people here. It was as unpredictable as a ticking bomb, expecting the explosion, but never knowing when it will implode. They were all watching the fuse burn, but unable to decipher exactly when it would all go to high heaven.

“People live in fear.” she ducked her head, “I don’t want my life to end like that.”

“I’m sorry.” he echoed.

“What for?”

“That you’ve had to do it by yourself.” she felt his fingers brush her hand. A moment passed before she opened her palm, allowing him to grasp it gently. It was the first form of comfort she’d had in a while. She nodded her head, squeezing his hand back. A moment passed before she released his hand, drawing a gasp from Tom.

“Where are you going?”

A teasing look crossed her face, “Why do you need to know?”

“Maybe I’m curious about all the people taking the attention of my lovely nurse.”

“Your nurse?” she mimicked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not everyone’s having our lovely conversations, are they?”

“I suppose not. Nobody quite has your vigour.”

He smirked, “Is that a good thing?”

“Depends on your interpretation of that.” she tilted her head.

“Which is it then?”

She hummed, “Well, that’s for you to decide, I suppose.”

He chased her hand, brushing against her wrist which brought her back. “Yes?”

“Will you come back tomorrow?” a hopeful look on his face.

She relieved it with a smile,  “Of course. Although, you’d best behave yourself while I’m gone. Doctor O’Connor has a small tolerance policy. And I don’t think he likes you very much.”

“I wonder why.” he posed, chasing her laughter with a wonderous glint.

***

The sound of Doctor O'Connor's aggravated tone filled the break room.

"He's getting on my nerves. I swore the hippocratic oath, but I might make him an exception." referring to Tom and his short temper. The man had caused a new irritation to rise from not only the Doctor, but many others in the hospital, especially after Tom's outrage upon waking. None of the French residents were inclined to deal with the British man after the altercation in which he, as repeated by Webster, insulted the Doctor and French people trying to help him. He rather said he'd be left to die than fall into the Nazis hands staying in the city.

"Don't be so brash. No need to compromise your morals just yet. He's angry, that's understandable given what he's been through."

"You're defending him?"

She caught the astonished look on the Doctor's face, "No, I'm saying don't be quick to judge based on his behaviour so far."

"I've had enough of an impression to know his character already."

She sighed, given Tom's track record thus far, the Doctor's reaction wasn't surprising, "Understandable, I suppose."

He scoffed, causing the woman to look up at his raised eyebrows.

"What?" She asked in confusion, taking a sip from her drink.

"You notice how he acts with you? Almost like his entire personality changed?"

"No." She drew out, uncertain of where he was going with this.

"Really?" He posed, titling his head "He must like you."

Her eyes flickered around, refusing to address to the statement, "Or maybe I'm the first friendly face he's seen in a while. These soldiers are just men after all. Everyone is afraid right now."

"I'm telling you now, it's not the same. The man doesn't take his eyes off you. I've seen it."

"Whatever you say, Doctor." She agreed, allowing the topic to diffuse as he discussed his recent patients.

***

After tending to her last patient of the day, Y/N tiredly blinked the sleep from her eyes, revolving to the sound of footsteps thumping against the tiles outside the ward. The loud steps echoed in the halls, thundering in her chest as she looked to the doorway, the image of the uniforms with the clear crosses struck her as she felt her heart drop.

Suddenly she was wide awake and attentive, her feet wandering to the doorway as she lingered there, watching the retreating boots turn the corridor. Her breath shakily left her throat, the thought of Tom immediately breaching her thoughts.

Beyond her better judgement, Y/N moved quickly, stepping to a connecting door to the ward where the British soldiers resided. Half of the beds empty, but she locked onto Tom. He sat alert, moving to stand from his bed when she strode over and gripped his shoulder.

"Come with me now." A pleading look to convince him.

"What?" He whispered, stunned to see her.

"Before you do something you shouldn't." He paused before nodding and following her instruction.

The fall of the boots echoed in her ears as she ushered him toward the back entrance, arm linked through his. She guided them into an office, pulling open a secondary door to the back where a back cupboard existed.

"What are we doing here?"

"I didn't think you'd feel comfortable with them walking about."

His eyebrows raised, slight surprise on his face, "That's-thoughtful."

"I wasn't sure how you would react, if I'm being honest. I didn't feel entirely comfortable either with them wandering around." She confessed, knowing of the dangers and the truth that he would be taken away in a split moment if they knew of his British name and origin.

"Worried about me, love?" He smiled, as they stood there, less than a foot distance between them.

"Well, yes. I can hardly have my patients running off and getting themselves taken away."

"Trust me, that's the last thing I want." He replied, "Being away fr9m you, that is-would be devastating. I have no plans of the sort." A smirk lining his lips. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at his incessant flirting. It seemed, his humour had no ends.

"And yet, you appear to have a tendency for getting into trouble, as you put it. Why is that?" She was inclined to ask, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Tom clenched his jaw, holding her gaze "I don't like following orders much. Never one for the rules-or authority figures."

He tilted his head, "But for you, love. I might just be in for a change."

Her cheeks flushed, flickering between his eyes as she comment caught up to her. She felt a rush along her skin as he grew closer.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Not sure what you mean. Doing what?" He pondered, not entirely focused as he was enraptured with her pleasing stare.

"Saying things like that?" She repeated.

"Might have to be more specific, love."

"Precisely what I mean." She breathed. Her face felt hot, her lips parting at the proximity of their faces as Tom drew closer. A shaky breath drew from her chest as Y/N forgot what it was to breath as his full lips were mere inches away and she could breath him in. Her eyes almost fluttered close before a knock at the door shook her from her daze. A shaky exhale left Y/N as she turned to the door, unsuspecting of the person on the other side.

"Don't make a sound." She urged him to stand behind the door before turning the knob with bated breaths.

Doctor O'Connor stood on the other side causing her to left out a sigh of relief and allow him to enter.

"They're gone?" She asked.

"Yeah, made their rounds." He replied, "They're becoming more frequent each day. I fear we have little time left before it grows worse."

"What are you doing in here?" Glancing between Tom and her with a confused look.

Her mouth parted, eyes wide while she thought on her feet, "Thought it best to wait until they left. I was in the ER at the time."

"But you were there yesterday." He pointed out.

"Marta was tending to another patient so I took over." She corrected, even though she was most definitely not there.

"Okay then." He agreed.

Tom knew this too, but remained silent as they stepped out of the closet and Y/N led the way back to his bed.

"Thank you." Tom murmured, his hand brushing against her own.

"Don't worry about it." She left him with a final glance.

TAGS:

@pearlstiare @dothrckis @aemonds-sapphire @xcharlottemikaelsonx @amnesiiiac

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #world on fire #aemond #ewan mitchell

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

No idea what that anon meant because I very much like your writing which is why I am asking you to feed me some Manon x reader angsty romance typa shi please (hope you’re taking care of yourself)

Part II

Happy reading, lovie✨🤍

Beneath the surface

It was complicated. The relationship between you and Manon. Most of the time you struggled to even phrase the things that you two had. You knew that Manon had lots of responsibilities. That there was a whole kingdom on her shoulders now. You knew her personality. You knew that she wasn't into sweet nothings. She wasn't big on affection. She was stone cold. You didn't even remember the last time you saw her smile.

Hence, why at first, you were hesitant about the sudden change in her behavior. Yes, you were her close ally. You had to merge your forces with hers in order to help Aelin, and then tiny little touches started to happen after the battles. She lingered in your tent. You marched and reformed your troops together. You stayed up making plans together. If not love, that at least felt like a strong friendship that was brewing.

But sometimes you had started to wonder that you were seeing into things. Yes, Manon came to you after a long day and yes, you two had spent more than a handful of fiery nights together. But it was always you who clung to her, always you who tried to keep her in your bad until the sun rose above the mountains. It was you who carefully and barely noticeably touched her thigh during the long and boring meetings.

And yet Manon almost always pulled away. You could understand why she would do it in front of others. You two have never really put a label on your relationship. It was there. At least for you. It was clear to see that there was way more beneath the surface. But Manon started to pull away from you even in the comfort of your tent. That's when the last straw of your patients has been drawn.

You had been sitting hunched over the table, looking through the war reports. You had opted to eat your dinner alone in the company of yourself and yourself only. Just you were halfway through the meal when the flaps of your tent were pulled open and Manon walked in.

"Right, why don't you make yourself at home", you lowered your cutlery to the table frowning at the witch slightly. "Don't start with this", Manon said undoing her cloak and throwing it on one of the chairs, "I don't have energy for this tonight".

"No, but when do you ever have energy for this?", you grumbled. "I come to you don't I? I'm here. What else do you want from me, woman?", you met her daring stair across the tent.

"I want you", you breathe out, "I want you, the real you. I don't want you hiding from me. I don't want to settle for a tiny piece of you". You admitted finally the ache in your chest was too strong to be suppressed any longer. "Oh, come on", Manon hissed, rubbing her temple, "This is war. We all need someone to take the edge off with". Even her face blanched, but those words had already slipped past her lips. You looked at her with big eyes. "Get out", you said through gritted teeth, "Get the fuck out of my tent, and I never wanna see you again", you hissed, feeling your eyes filling up with tears, "I'm not gonna be some whore for you".

"Y/N", Manon breathed taking a step closer to you, "I didn't mean it like that". But you only reached for the knife that was lying on your table, pointing it her way. "Get out, wing leader. Our business together now is purely political", you gestured to the tent door. A tear slipped down your cheek. Manon opened her mouth to say something but quickly chose against it. She turned away quickly. All you caught right before Manon disappeared was her brushing a hand against her cheek.

#manon blackbeak imagine #manon blackbeak x reader #manon blackbeak #manon x reader #manon imagine #manon x you #manon tog imagine #manon tog x reader #tog x reader #tog imagine #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Your post on continuity errors reminds me that the one that bothers me most in Animorphs is that in book 8, Ax reads the entire World Book encyclopedia and apparently remembers all of it, but in later books he's never heard of World War Two (MM3) or the nation of China (#46). Maybe it's trivial, but it makes part of Ax's arc toward the end of the series when he wrestles with human atrocities seem kind of forced.

So. Your Mileage May Vary on this one, but. My read of MM3 is that Ax has specifically never heard of the Holocaust. Like, you're right that he has no context for U.S.-U.K. troops storming Normandy beaches, and doesn't instantly understand when/where he is the way Marco does. But I think it's possible he's read a few encyclopedia articles on the subject without knowing about that particular battle. Rachel mentions the Holocaust, Ax asks her what that is, and she briefly explains. If that got left out of a world history book or an almanac, then that's potentially a pointed omission.

It might fall in the same category as Tobias joking about his complete lack of knowledge of the War of 1812 (which he mentions in #8 and IIRC #23). I assume that that's a deliberate callout on Applegate's part — we really don't cover the War of 1812 in most U.S. schools, because it's such a bad mark on the U.S.'s history. The U.S. and U.K. get in a trade dispute, the U.S. invades Canada in revenge, the U.S. murders 1000s of Native Americans on the chance they might be allied with the British, the U.S. murders 1000s of enslaved Black Americans on the chance they might be allied with the British, the Brits burn the White House, everyone decides to call it a draw. The whole thing is shameful, to say the least.

If Ax's almanacs don't cover the Holocaust, then I think you can read MM3 as drawing pointed attention to that omission because the whole point of MM3 is that we sanitize history to force the issue of "glory in battle" and "we happy few, we band of brothers" after the fact. That said, it's also 100% possible that Ax's knowledge of human history is just inconsistently written. Because that's been known to happen as well.

As for him not having heard of China... Uhhh, okay, what if he's mostly just encountered the acronym PRC before, and doesn't remember what it stands for? I've seen world atlases refer to China just as PRC before.

#animorphs #animorphs' imperfect continuity #kasu #aximili esgarrouth isthill #ax man #baker street irregulars #genocide mention

[yanderes-galore]

Surprised to see no N'tho 'Sraom concept yet! Might as well go ahead and request it myself right now~

I actually didn't know him so I had to once again utilize the wiki to help me out ^^ Hope you enjoy this regardless! Not fully proofread, may have mistakes!

Yandere! N'tho 'Sraom Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Yandere alien, Manipulation, Invasion of privacy, Violence (Mentions of war), Forced/Dubious relationship/companionship.

According to what I read, N'tho was originally the youngest Sangheili in a Covenant Special Operations branch.

He outperformed many of his fellow Sangheili in the group.

Later, during The Great Schism, he joined forces with Thel and Rtas against The Prophet of Truth.

He developed a high respect for humanity and was a human sympathizer.

He then became part of The Swords of Sangheilios after the Human-Covenant War with Thel.

He is very dedicated to old Sangheili ways.

He understands and respects human's audacity and resolve.

He actively participated in missions under Thel's command.

N'tho may be close to either a human or Sangheili who fought beside him during the end of the Human-Covenant war.

This way, regardless on which species you choose, you have time to prove yourself to N'tho.

Most Sangheili gain respect for others based on their combat prowess.

I'll try to keep this general but I am biased to human darlings....

N'tho's obsession starts with a mutual respect between you.

He is a young member of his kind but can see a good fighter when he sees one.

Regardless on your species... he respects you and considers you an ally and companion.

Even after the war he still remembers you fondly.

Perhaps if you're a Sangheili you are also a part of The Swords of Sangheilios.

Or, if you were a human, you're one of those new marine turned spartan types.

N'tho hopes you are respected for your skills in combat situations and wishes you the best.

His obsession slowly develops as he's away from you.

You two are stationed away from one another and N'tho finds himself thinking back on how well you fought.

N'tho canonically has not married or taken any sort of partner

So his obsession could just be a close bond or something more romantic.

He certainly is fond of you for your abilities.

Both in strategy, leadership, and overall combat knowledge.

He finds these traits desirable in both an ally and partner.

As a result N'tho may try to sneakily find information on you to meet you.

Surely he can get permission from Thel to meet with you, perhaps even for a future mission due to how well you are in combat.

He may even get away with it as you are a good asset.

Having an extra Sangheili/Human warrior can aid in missions.

It's even better if just by chance N'tho works with Thel and a human group, just to find you.

As with most Sangheili yanderes I write, N'tho grows possessive of you when he sees you again.

When he first met you he was a Sangheili Minor, a young Sangheili with barely any rank.

But now he's something much more, isn't he?

Surely you find this... appealing?

In a way you can tell he's trying to impress you.

He's a higher rank now, he even is able to command a ship as Shipmaster.

Due to his higher rank, N'tho may even recruit you on his ship.

Naturally he wants to keep you close, what better way to do that than by recruiting you?

Eventually N'tho's obsession makes you his second in command.

He keeps all other troops under his command away from you.

His possessive behavior leaks out at times, resulting in subtle threats towards some forces.

He holds back on outright violence... but he has his limits.

If he just sees you as an ally or friend... his obsession stops at that.

If not... then he tries to court you.

After all... he's improved so much from when you first met.

Aren't you impressed?

Maybe you should give him a chance...

As two warriors, you'll be perfect together!

If not... well... N'tho is persistent and loyal.

One way or another you two share a warrior's bond with one another...

He plans to preserve that connection and keep it all to himself....

#yandere halo #yandere halo sangheili #yandere sangheili #yandere alien #yandere n'tho 'sraom

[asingleietsist]

"A Green Queen" AU

Chapter VII

TW: minor self-harm

Mario yawned and turned over in the car seat, he groaned and blocked the small ray of sun peaking through the bushel. "Mm..."

He blinked his eyes open, looking up at the canopy. As he pushed himself up a nice misty breeze brushed past his face. He wiped his it a bit and froze when he noticed Daisy stretched out against his yoshi.

A sigh of relief left his lips when he heard her snoring and he got out of the seat to stretch. He tiptoed over to the yoshi and took out a few fruit slices he'd packed. His yoshi opened his eyes slightly and glanced back at Mario.

Mario gestured to him to stay silent and motioned to the start of a path leading down from the edge. The yoshi huffed and closed his eyes again, not really wanting to move. Mario took this as a sign for him to go fill up his water cantine and headed back to the edge of the cliff.

He started to hike down the steep pathway and kept a hand on the sediment walls while skidding down slowly. As he made his way down the color of the soil changed and its richness was clear as he reached the gorgeous lake at the bottom of the waterfall.

The crisp, clear blue water rippling from the falls made him breathe in awe. The mist and light peek of the sun's rays reflecting off of it made him smile slightly.

'Wow... If only Luigi could see this..'

He lowered himself towards the edge of the large body of water and rolled up his sleeves. When he opened the cantine and dipped it into the cool water, it began to fill it up as the netted filter at the nozzle caught some small pebbles in it.

He wanted to see his brother once, just to make sure he was ok. Even if he got caught, maybe his imprisonment would show Luigi how terrible that monster truly was.

Bowser grinned as he pushed the large doors open. Kamek was about to introduce him as he teleported in, but was hit by the door.

Luigi winced at the inflicted pain and stood up to go check if the MagiKoopa was ok. Spotty following behind him, closely.

"Are you ok?", He asked.

Kamek nodded, "I-I'll be ok, your majesty! Please continue to enjoy your meal.". He croaked, giving a good stretch to his back as he was helped up.

Bowser grumbled at the lack of acknowledgement of his presence, before he took another look at Luigi. He was wearing his attire from his first night in the ship except his hair was a mess. He could help but feel uneasy from remembering what happened that night, but shook it from his mind.

He apologized, and all he had to do was play nice for a while until Luigi forgave him.

The large koopa then turned his attention to the Prince who was simply smiling at them from the far end of the long table.

"It's nice of you to join us, King Koopa.", he grinned. He shifted his eyes towards Luigi. "Your husband has been telling me about his little coronation, or moreso the lack of one"

Bowser scowled in response, "I just overslept.. and that's none of your business. When it happens, it happens."

Luigi could sense his disdain, but didn't feel comfortable chiming in without being acknowledged. He was aware of not officially being the Queen, so didn't fuss about any ceremonies.

Then he remembered the turmoil that awaited them in the Darklands. The many, MANY troops in Bowser's army that were waiting for some kind of answer as to why he was their Queen. He felt sick.

It gave him an unpleasant chill thinking about it.

"Oh c'mon..", the Prince remarked slyly. "You remember my coronation, a grand gala. Everyone invited in peace for the night. Speaking of which, I heard the Kongs are one hosting the Peace Flair Ball this century."

Bowser rolled his eyes and Luigi over to Kamek for an answer. Kamek walked over and whispered, "Kingdoms come together in peace for 24 hours to dance and convene at a large ball. It's a simple reunion for old friends or allies. If you want my opinion, I'd say it'll be great for you to meet more of your subjects! Maybe steal a dance with the King?"

He nudged Luigi's arm a bit, being careful not to hit the bandages.

The King rubbed his chin as he sat down at the table, "My kingdom will not be attending..."

Prince Khufo's smile gradually faded, "Yours?". His gaze turned towards Luigi, confused, "And the Queen's, right?"

Luigi flinched as he sat back down in his seat across from Bowser. The King Koopa gave a low growl once he heard it out loud. Kamek had constantly planted it in him that he was sharing HIS kingdom with the plumber, despite knowing his intentions were to make Luigi his prisoner.

"He's...."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, your highness.", Luigi chimmed in. "Like you said, I haven't had my... Coronation yet. S-so.."

Khufo blinked, trying to piece together the weird tension floating around the two. "Well, no matter. We can just finish breakfast and head to my balcony to talk more!"

Bowser grunted, "Couldn't we go somewhere where there are less eyes watching?"

"It's quite safe upstairs!", the Prince insisted. "You said yesterday you wanted to get this whole ordeal over with, right?"

Bowser sighed, "Yes but-"

"Then that's what we're doing, right Queen Koopa?"

Bowser grumbled, bearing his teeth as gazed down at Luigi. Both waited for an answer.

Luigi flinched as he was suddenly the focus again, "I-It wouldn't hurt, plus we would get out of here sooner!"

Khufo cheered, "Splendid! Finish eating you two!"

A plate floated over and landed onto the mat in front of Bowser. He huffed down at it then towards Luigi whose hand was shaking trying to lift the spoon up to his lips.

'Red stained lips'

Bowser shook his head then extended his claw, gesturing for Luigi to give him the spoon. The tiny man looked confused, but hesitantly gave it to him. Bowser scooped up a spoonful and lifted it towards Luigi's lips.

Luigi opened his mouth, letting out a small breath before placing his mouth around the spoon and drinking the soup. A bit dripped down to his chin from slightly missing.

Bowser cleared his throat, "T-Try using the other hand."

Luigi nodded taking the spoon back bashfully, his face flushed as he used his left hand to eat.

Prince Khufo pretended not to notice the two and called his servant over, "Coals, did the King and Queen spend the night together?"

"No, your highness. The King slept in his ship."

"Interesting..", he sighed. He sat up and stretched. "I'm going to head there first. Kamek could come with Coals and I just so he can show you two to the balcony."

Bowser nodded. Kamek checked in with him once more and Bowser muttered something to him before the three exited.

Luigi watched them go, noticing a grin on the Prince's face before he slipped out the door.

Bowser's tail was wagging slightly, he finally got to be alone with him yet didn't know entirely why he was happy about that. "How was your rest?"

The Queen was shocked by his sudden interest, but saw the anticipation in the koopa's eyes.

"It was good, T-They bed was nice and soft. I also looked around at the design on the walls and the delicate strokes on the paintings were pretty. H-How was um.. a night on the ship?", He fidgeted.

Bowser blinked at the question and felt his face heat up, "Well, it was...decent. Not much changing. Uhm... I dreamt about the Princess!"

Luigi looked up at him disgustingly confused. He wasn't sure where this conversation was leading to, and didn't want to find out either. But Bowser was lost in reminiscing the dream.

"Her hair was like strands of gold, yet so delicate. Her lips were red like my flaming heart", he gushed.

"Red?", Luigi asked.

"I-I said pink! She had soft pink lips!"

"Uhm... Ok? G-Good to know."

Bowser left out a small sigh of relief, glad he convinced him otherwise. "Then we shared a passionate kiss. I'm telling you Greenie, it was magical..", He lied.

"Right... A little weird, but glad you- uh, enjoyed your night.", He replied. Luigi glanced over and did a double take once he saw Bowser picking at his food.

"Hum- I mean, Greenie. Do you think..."

Luigi tilted his head then blinked once he realized, "N-No! I'm not saying your crush is a bad thing, j-just not the best topic over breakfast? Maybe? But what do I know?! M-Mario and I usually share everything, so I guess it's ok, but we don't share those kinds of- what I mean is that it's fine! I'm fine with it!"

Bowser closed his eyes, "Will you shut up? I'm not talking about....-". He stopped seeing Luigi slump a bit. "I didn't mean to say that.. I was just trying to ask if... You think it's weird that I like humans."

'Humans? Plural...?'

Luigi thought for a moment and saw the large Koopa's scales were tinted with a fiery red, nearly glowing. His eyes stared down at the ground beside him, almost as if he were ashamed of himself.

"No.", he squeaked.

Bowser flinched from the response. "Right, O-Of course not! It's love!"

"Yeah..", Luigi said weakly.

Bowser's tail halted hearing that pain in his voice, it started to gnaw at him. Despite feeling relief from Luigi's acceptance, he still couldn't tell him about what he dreamt or what he did once he woke up from it.

"I'm done.", Luigi said getting up from the table. "You should probably finish up."

"I'll finish it when I want to!", He snapped.

Luigi stepped back, "Sorry..."

'One step forward, two steps back. Why do you keep trying with this monster? He's nothing but trouble.'

'I shouldn't boss him around..'

'Oh please, he'd kill you if you let your guard down. Remember, you're the Princess's stand in puppet. Don't get cocky.'

'But I just want to help'

'He doesn't want it. He doesn't want you. Why do you keep burdening everyone with your fuck-'

"Greenie!"

Luigi snapped back, "Huh?". He felt a sting of pain in his right arm, unaware that he was applying pressure to the indent, a small trickle of blood seeped through the bandages. "I-I.."

Kamek teleported in, "Your majesties, the Prince has set up everything and... Your majesty! Sire, what did you do?!"

"I-It wasn't-"

"He got out of line, I just reminded him of his place."

Kamek furrowed his brows, "He's recovering! Please, sire. Have mercy on him! Your majesty, we need to change those. Come along!"

He took Luigi's other wrist and began pulling him along. The Queen looked back at Bowser confused, "But.."

Bowser shook his head and mouthed 'No.'.

Luigi nodded and headed out the room with Kamek.

'What did I tell you? A damned burden.'

#a green queen au #a green queen bowuigi fanfic #a green queen #bowuigi #bowser x luigi #luigi x bowser #super mario bros #luigi #super mario #mario brothers #mario #princess daisy #fuck it we ball

[fanby-fckry]

How to Support Your Asexual Friend (Who May or May Not Know He’s Ace)

Day 5 of Ace Alastor Week: Friendship Friday

Please ignore that I didn’t post on tumblr, yesterday, I promise I didn’t forget/give up, I’m just indecisive and late. I’ve got one up on AO3, but can’t post it here until I figure out what I’m doing.

Word Count: 2,942

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Warnings: Implied/Referenced Canon-Typical Violence

Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne | Morningstar & Vaggie, Alastor & Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Alastor & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggie

Characters: Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Mentioned Rosie (Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, (mostly), Episode: s01e07 Hello Rosie! (Hazbin Hotel), then timeskip to, Post-Season/Series 01, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Friendship, Developing Friendships, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Aromantic Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being an Idiot (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Good Friend Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Supportive Charlie Magne, Supportive Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Charlie Magne | Morningstar is Bad at Feelings, yeah I said it. she’s not good at them either she just has more of them, Fallen Angel Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Good Significant Other Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Protective Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Asexuality, Ace Community Inside Jokes, Unreliable Narrator, Misunderstandings, Baking, Stress Baking, Talking, Conversations, Crying, Implied/Referenced Canon-Typical Violence

Series: Part 5 of Fanby’s Ace Alastor Week 2024 ( <- Prev || Next -> ) || Part 2 of Piece of Cake! ( <- Prev || )

Summary:

“Remember how you said we could work on supporting Alastor and his ace identity after we survived Extermination Day?” Charlie asked.

Vaggie nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Well, we survived!” Charlie gave an awkward, celebratory thumbs up. “So, now I wanna show my support! Be the good, allo-bisexual ally I know I can be!”

“By baking another cake,” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Yup!”

*

Charlie wants to show some support for Alastor and his asexuality, and decides that the best way to do so is by baking him a cake several cakes! Vaggie does her best to support Charlie in supporting Alastor.

There are only two problems:

Alastor doesn’t like cake.

Alastor doesn’t realize he’s ace.

Better on AO3

Charlie flopped down on her and Vaggie’s shared bed. “You should’ve seen them, Vaggie!” she said. “They were dancing, and singing, and really, really – honestly kind of creepily interested in the idea of getting to eat the invading Exorcists. Especially their wings.”

Charlie grimaced and Vaggie made a mental note not to expose her newly regrown wings while in Cannibal town.

“But I mean, that’s good, right?” Charlie said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself as well as her girlfriend. “Because they’re on our side!”

Vaggie nodded, intently. “Bloodthirsty troops are the most effective kind, sweetie,” she assured her.

Charlie sighed. “Thanks,” she said, smiling softly. “Rosie’s really nice, though.”

“She is?”

“Mhmm,” Charlie hummed. “I didn’t know what to think of her at first because she made a joke about Alastor and I dating and how I’m too young for him, which: First, no. Not dating. I have an amazing girlfriend and I don’t think about Alastor like that, anyway. And second, even if we were dating, I’m pretty sure I’m older than him? Chronologically, at least.”

Vaggie tried her best to follow along with Charlie’s mile a minute rant, but she felt like she was missing some very important context.

“But then she told us she was just kidding, which was a huge relief, and she called Alastor an ace in the hole-”

“Wait,” Vaggie interrupted. “Alastor’s asexual?”

“Huh?” Charlie tilted her head.

“His best friend, who’s known him for decades, called him ace.”

“Ohh.” Charlie shook her head. “No, no, she called him ‘an ace in the hole.’ You know, like a secret weapon.”

“What did she say, exactly?” Vaggie asked.

Charlie thought for a moment. “She made a comment about how I’m ‘too young’ for him, as if we were dating, and then she said, ‘I’m just kidding. I know you’re an ace in the hole.’”

“So, in the context of explaining why it’s obvious that you two aren’t dating,” Vaggie said, slowly. “She called Alastor ace.”

“Yup!” Charlie said, then paused.

Vaggie could see the exact moment the penny dropped.

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Oh shit. Alastor’s ace.”

“Probably aro, too,” Vaggie pointed out. “I bet Rosie said ‘ace’ instead of ‘aroace’ because it fit the pun better.”

Charlie put a hand under her chin. “You know, that actually makes a lot of things make sense,” she said. “I didn’t wanna assume anything, but Al’s kinda…”

Vaggie finished Charlie’s sentence. “Flamboyant in a way that makes gaydar go haywire?”

“Mhmm.”

“Yeah, Angel’s brought that up a few times.” Vaggie sighed. “And by ‘brought up’ I mean complained about. He thinks Alastor is either straight or an incredibly repressed gay man and can’t figure out which.”

“The answer is neither, apparently,” Vaggie added. “Not that it’s any of his business. Or ours for that matter.”

Charlie gasped. “Should we do another lesson on boundaries?” she asked.

Charlie’s words ran together as question after question came tumbling out of her mouth. “What about amatonormativity and asexual/aromantic erasure in the LGBTQIA+ community? Is there a way I can support Alastor without outing him? What if-”

Vaggie kissed her, and Charlie’s questions melted into a pleased hum against her girlfriend’s lips.

“I think we can figure that out later,” Vaggie said once the kiss broke. “Let’s just focus on protecting the hotel, and if we’re alive afterwards, then we can work on supporting Alastor, ok?”

Charlie nodded. “Ok.” She bit her lip. “I guess it’s just that…”

Vaggie waited patiently while Charlie wrung her hands together.

Charlie took a breath. “It’s easier to think about making new workshops and being a good ally to other parts of the community than it is to think about this!” She gestured vaguely to, well, everything.

“I wish I could go back in time before that meeting with Adam.” Charlie sniffled, and Vaggie grabbed a box of tissues from their bedside table. “Before I fucked everything up.”

Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and handed her a tissue.

“You did not fuck up,” Vaggie said. “Adam is an asshole. He’s always been an asshole. And Heaven is…”

Vaggie hesitated. She couldn’t think of the right words to describe her feelings about Heaven, even now that Charlie knew what she was.

“We’re going to get through this,” she said instead, and kissed Charlie’s tear-stained cheeks. “Together.”

“Together,” Charlie repeated.

In Charlie’s defense, the first cake was incidental.

They’d just finished rebuilding the hotel – which meant a brand new kitchen! – when Alastor made his triumphant return. And what better way to celebrate the hotel’s completion and her friend’s return than with a cake?

Charlie never actually saw Alastor eat the cake, but he did accept it. And Charlie didn’t find it in the trash, later, so she was going to consider that a success!

The second cake… Well, that was intentional.

“Do we have any purple food coloring?” Charlie asked, rummaging around through the – somehow, already disorganized – kitchen cabinets.

“I’m not sure,” Vaggie said. “But I could run to the store and buy you some if you want, hon.”

“Thanks!” Charlie kept looking. “What about gray? Do they sell gray food coloring or should I just use a smaller portion of black?”

“Uh, Charlie?”

Charlie turned around. “Hm?”

Vaggie was sitting at the island, surrounded by various bakeware and ingredients Charlie had set out. “What are you making that uses all of this” – Vaggie gestured to the somewhat-organized chaos in front of her – “And purple and gray food coloring?”

“I’m baking a cake,” Charlie said cheerfully. “For Alastor.”

“Another one?” Vaggie asked.

“No,” Charlie said, before correcting herself. “Well, ok, yes, but… Let me explain!”

Charlie took a break from her hunt for purple and gray food coloring to join Vaggie at the island.

“I’m listening.”

“Remember how you said we could work on supporting Alastor and his ace identity after we survived Extermination Day?” Charlie asked.

Vaggie nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Well, we survived!” Charlie gave an awkward, celebratory thumbs up. “So, now I wanna show my support! Be the good, allo-bisexual ally I know I can be!”

“By baking another cake,” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Yup!”

“Why?”

Charlie took a deep breath. “Ok, I started by voogling ‘how to support my asexual friend’ and I found a website called HAVEN – Hell’s Asexual Visibility and Education Network, which is actually Hell’s version of a website from the Living World called AVEN that asexual Sinners created for Hell’s ace community – and I kind of wound up going down a rabbit hole about ace culture.”

“Apparently cake is a pretty big thing in the ace community. It’s a…” Charlie hesitated. “Mee-mee?” she guessed. “May-may? I’ve never actually heard anyone say that word out loud…”

“Meme,” Vaggie supplied. “Long E sound.”

“Thank you!” Charlie leaned across the island to give her a quick kiss.

“But yeah, it’s a meme,” Charlie said, pronouncing it correctly that time. “Because a lot of asexual people would rather have cake than have sex. So the saying, ‘I’d rather have cake,’ and cake in general became a whole thing.”

“And the food coloring?”

Charlie grinned so hard her cheeks started to hurt. “I’m gonna bake four layers in the colors of the asexual pride flag!”

Vaggie looked at her fondly. “I love you,” she said.

Charlie’s smile somehow got even brighter. “I love you too!”

Charlie squeaked. “This is gonna be amazing!” she said, bouncing in her seat. “I’m going to get a good grade in allyship! Something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve!”

Vaggie shook her head and sighed, a soft smile gracing her adorable face. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s bake a cake.”

Why the hell was Charlie baking Alastor so many cakes?

The first one, that made sense. Alastor had just returned after being mortally wounded in the battle to defend the hotel, and dare he say it, a celebration was in order.

Of course, he would’ve preferred a strong drink or some freshly killed venison, but he graciously accepted the gift he was given. He didn’t eat it of course, but it would’ve been rude to reject Charlie’s misguided attempt at a welcome home gift.

But then came a second. And a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth cake. What the fuck was going on?

Was there a joke he wasn’t in on? Had Charlie developed some sort of dessert-related madness? Was this her latest hairbrained scheme to send Damned Souls skyward?

It would all come to an end if he would just turn the damned things down. He knew that, but…

Charlie stood in front of Alastor, holding the sixth – the sixth – cake, smiling like the sun he hadn’t seen since 1933. He took the cake, thanked her, and left.

Something had to be done about this. He needed to go see Rosie.

Vaggie walked warily into the hotel’s kitchen. It looked like some kind of culinary warzone. Mixing bowls and baking sheets were piled precariously on top of egg cartons and sacks of flour.

“Hey, hon? Charlie? Sweetie?”

Charlie popped her head up from behind one of the towers of bakeware. There was purple cake batter on her cheek. “Yes?”

“Don’t you think this is getting to be a little…”

Somewhere, something crashed to the ground. Vaggie hoped it wasn’t something breakable. Niffty had a habit of collecting shards of broken glass or ceramic and turning them into makeshift weaponry.

“Much?” Vaggie finished.

Charlie tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Vaggie pursed her lips. “It’s just that…”

A bag of sugar fell from its perch. The only thing that stopped it from hitting Charlie in the face was Vaggie’s quick reflexes.

Vaggie opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted yet again. Not by another object falling from the crumbling towers, but by a different kind of chaos all together.

Alastor returned to the hotel at a completely reasonable rate.

Which is to say, as fast as demonically possible. That was a very reasonable rate considering he was facing the possibility of a seventh cake he could neither eat nor refuse.

When he arrived at the hotel, the first thing he heard was something made of glass being shattered on the kitchen floor. He could only hope that it was Husker drinking while cooking or Niffty breaking glassware to have a mess to clean and sharp objects to play with.

Much to Alastor’s chagrin, it was neither.

The kitchen was a disaster. How Charlie had managed to get it in such a state was beyond him. Alastor had cooked dinner for the other hotel residents just a few nights ago, and while the organizational system was somewhat of a mess – as is often the case when you have seven cooks in the kitchen – it wasn’t anywhere near the catastrophic levels of the kitchen’s current state.

Vaggie was balancing on her toes, wings outstretched, with one arm in the air, holding a bag of sugar over Charlie’s head.

“Hello there, ladies!” Alastor made his presence known before Vaggie could do something ridiculously sappy like pour sugar on Charlie’s head and call her ‘sweet.’

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, knowing damned well that he was.

“No!” Charlie said at the same time that Vaggie groaned, “Yes!”

“Ah, good to see we’re all on the same page!”

Charlie smiled nervously while Vaggie grumbled something under her breath in Spanish. Alastor didn’t speak Spanish, but he was fairly certain that whatever she was saying was both directed at him and incredibly rude. He magnanimously decided to ignore it.

“Charlie,” Alastor said, allowing his voice to drop slightly. “If I might have a word.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, of course!” Charlie made her way through the absolute nightmare that was the hotel’s kitchen, occasionally cursing when something crashed to the ground in her wake.

Vaggie glared daggers at Alastor from over Charlie’s shoulder. And yet, there was something beneath it. Some sense of desperateness. Interesting… He should follow up on that.

“What did you wanna talk about, Al?” Charlie asked once she was finally standing face to face with Alastor.

“I’d like to discuss the cakes.”

Charlie’s face lit up, and from across the room, that look of desperation and wrath on Vaggie’s face intensified. Very interesting indeed.

Almost interesting to make him pause his attempts to stop this nonsense long enough to figure out how he could use it to his advantage. But not quite.

“While I appreciate the gesture, I must admit, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” Alastor adjusted his monocle, trying to ignore the way Charlie’s cheery demeanor had started to droop.

He could only hope that Rosie was right about this.

“In fact, I’d rather have garlic bread,” Alastor said, repeating the exact words Rosie had used.

Instantly, Charlie’s expression changed. To what was debatable. Alastor thought he saw about ten different emotions run across her face, most of which he had never had the displeasure of feeling, himself.

When she finally did speak, the words came rushing out all at once. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t mean to assume!”

Charlie reached out as if to touch him, then pulled back, balling her hands into fists and holding them rigid against her sides. Smart girl.

“I’m so, so sorry, Alastor!” she said, barely pausing for breath. “Of course, I know aces aren’t a monolith, I just thought that…”

Charlie continued speaking, but Alastor wasn’t paying very close attention. Whatever she was saying was of little importance and made even less sense.

However, there was one word that kept catching his ear, persistently clamoring across his consciousness like a single note out of tune in an otherwise unremarkable song. And like an off-key note, it didn’t seem to fit within the context provided for it.

Which begged the question…

Why did everyone keep calling him ‘ace?’

Oh, Charlie was starting to look teary eyed. He’d better tune back in.

“…and I just wanna be a good friend.” Charlie’s voice wavered. Her knuckles were somehow even whiter than usual as she fought to keep her hands at her sides, and tears were already starting to spill down her cheeks.

Alastor made an executive decision to cut the waterworks off before they could truly begin. Of course, this would mean he’d be liable for Charlie’s famous ‘happy tears,’ but well… anything was better than this.

Alastor reached out and hugged Charlie, who promptly collapsed onto his shoulder and began to cry what he hoped were the aforementioned ‘happy tears.’

“You are a good friend, my dear,” he said, which triggered another – happy? – sob.

Alastor looked to Vaggie for help. He was out of his depth, here. Somehow Rosie’s advice had both made things better and worse.

Vaggie – whether for the sake of her sweetheart or to put Alastor out of his misery – met them in the doorway.

Alastor was just about to pass Charlie off to Vaggie when she lifted her head off of his shoulder.

Charlie looked up at Alastor with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. “Thank you, Alastor,” she said. “That means a lot.”

Alastor’s own smile softened. “I do consider you a friend, Charlie,” he said, his voice almost entirely unfiltered.

Charlie made a truly pathetic – and somewhat endearing – whimpering sound, and between that and her expression, Alastor suspected that the ‘happy tears’ which had finally begun to stem were threatening to return in full force.

“That’s quite enough of that!” Alastor spun Charlie out of his arms and into Vaggie’s.

“I think I’ve had enough cake to last a lifetime, and enough sentimentality to last two!” Alastor made a show of dusting himself off. Well, it was mostly for show. His shoulder was wet, and a bit of magic goes a long way when combined with such a gesture.

“If you do decide to transfer your obsessive baking fixation into garlic bread, please limit yourself to once a month or less,” Alastor said casually. And then, with just a hint of darkness, “Lest I lose my appetite for that as well.”

Charlie sniffled and wiped her tears away with her palms. Vaggie held her protectively, wings still visible. Her feathers were fluffed the way Husker’s sometimes got when he was feeling rebellious, and she looked like she was poised to kill should Charlie give the word.

Instead, Charlie gave quite the opposite! She giggled, a much more appealing sound than all the sobbing – happy or otherwise. “I can do that,” she said.

Both Alastor and Vaggie let out a sigh of relief.

Oh, so that’s what the look was about. Vaggie was as disturbed by Charlie’s baking mania as Alastor was.

Alastor probably could’ve used that to his advantage – and potentially gotten another Deal out of it – but he was honestly just grateful that the whole thing was finished.

Alastor and Vaggie shared a brief and odd moment of comradery, silently celebrating the end of a hell within Hell.

“Well, it was nice chatting with you both,” Alastor said, more than ready to leave both the conversation and the kitchen. “I’m happy we could put this whole cake confusion behind us!”

“Agreed,” Vaggie said. Her tone and expression spoke volumes. Clearly she’d witnessed horrors beyond Alastor’s comprehension. Which is saying a lot considering the Eldritch nature of his abilities.

Charlie laughed and hummed an, “Mhmm,” in agreement.

Alastor was going to consider that a success!

Alastor hummed along to a song he’d strung together from the airwaves as he made his exit – read, ‘escape’ – from the kitchen.

That had gone smoother than expected, all things considered.

“Ha!” he laughed to himself. Piece of cake.

#fanby’s fuckery #fanby’s fics #acealastorweek2024 #hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie morningstar #vaggie #rosie hazbin hotel #aroace alastor #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #chaggie

[popjunkie42]

Gifts for WitchlingsandWyverns!

From your ACOTAR Secret Santa! @witchlingsandwyverns

I have had so much fun working on a story for you and getting to send you gifts and sneak peeks over the past few weeks! I have always loved your art and creativity and I really hope I can give you something you'll enjoy this holiday season.

I got inspired early on to lean into the fantasy and do a sort-of Lord of the Rings AU. This story takes place during the war 500 years before ACOTAR against the human slave lands and the human-faerie alliance. I imagine Feyre as a Spring fae, and she and Rhysand meet for the first time in the Dawn Palace's House of Healing. I was inspired by one of my all-time favorite fantasy couples, Eowyn and Faramir.

Blossoming in Winter - Chapter 1: Under the Wings of the Shadow (on AO3, the first part of Chapter 1 below) and tagging @acotargiftexchange

A million thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @temperedink for being my amazing beta readers!

Your story is mostly complete and will be four chapters long. I hope to publish every few days up until Christmas, but be patient with me if the final edits take a bit longer!

I've had so much fun being your secret gift giver and learning more about you! I hope you have an amazing birthday, and holiday season, and that you enjoy all the ACOTAR riches coming our way!

Love,

PopJunkie42

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

To Thesan, High Lord of Dawn and Commander of the Peregryn Legions:

Esteemed High Lord,

It is with great thanks and humility I write to you on behalf of Lord Tamlin, third son of Spring.

The Peregryn legion you sent to our aid was invaluable in our victory on the coast of the western Spring lands.Through whatever grand insight you possess, they arrived in the knick of time, as our armies were on the verge of being overwhelmed. The turn of the tide led to a grand victory on the side of Prythian. Though casualties were great, the land has been held successfully by our warband and will, we believe, provide strategic ground for both monitoring Hybern’s forces and maintaining a foothold on the shore, to prevent further ships and troops from docking in Prythian and adding to our troubles. 

Indeed, if you’ll forgive me for my storytelling, I can tell you the sight of feathered wings will forever bring a surge of joy to the hearts of the Spring warriors, and the tales of the Peregryn’s bravery will long be told in our lands and at our tables. The legion’s arrival at dawn after the long night siege, the rising sun at their backs, was the stuff of grand tales, and seemed to us a blessing from the Cauldron and the Mother. Lord Tamlin (and myself) sincerely hope that his future court and the Dawn Court may remember this great victory and the strength of our combined partnership in the days and years to come. 

Lord Tamlin wishes greatly to speak with you and the other High Lords further, once battles have ceased and Prythian is free of the stain of Hybern, about the future of our illustrious court and the question of leadership therein. Though the Prince has always valued the leadership of his father and wisdom of his brothers, their choice to ally with the King of Hybern shows their loyalties and interests lie outside of Prythian. After this war is won, Prince Tamlin wishes only to treat with those loyal to the lands of Prythian.

Though I write to thank you for your great kindness, I also am afraid I must use this letter to beg another courtesy. It has been heard that your illustrious Court has opened its doors to the High Lord’s families and those in greatest need of healing, to be blessed by the grand bounty of your powers and knowledge. It is with this in mind that Lord Tamlin humbly asks you to take in another patient: Lady Feyre Archeron, an archer in his personal guard.

Although Lady Feyre boasts no direct relation to the High Lords, perhaps word of her bravery has already reached your lands. For it was Lady Feyre who dared to enter the Middle and defeat the fearsome Sylvanus, the forest god, the last of the old gods walking among us. We know that all the High Lords and generals have knowledge of this beast, as he has split the land in two and his wrath and magic had prevented the joining of the northern and southern armies in our long-standing war. Although rumored to be immortal and impervious to death, even by the hand of a High Lord, the monster was single-handedly defeated by Lady Feyre. We have no doubt that her name will long be known throughout Prythian, and the grand tale of her conquest will be the subject of songs and poems. Perhaps if taken under your healers, you will get the entire story firsthand from her, as she has not spoken of it since returning to Spring. Such a tale would be the envy of the land, and certainly of your neighbors in Day.

Lady Feyre, though brave and strong, returned to the Spring Court wounded by the deep magic of the god. Her spirits fail her, and her body withers under wounds our healers cannot touch. Lord Tamlin beseeches you and your healers to care for her with your powerful magic, as her hurts go beyond the body and perhaps into the soul.

With much gratitude and hope in battle,

Lucien, Emissary of Spring

on behalf of Prince Tamlin, the rightful heir

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Please, Lady Feyre…”

The warden of the healing wing scuttled behind the female, her steps brisk, his own faltering as he rushed in his voluminous robes.

But both came to a pause in front of the wooden door, one of many in the hall of healing. A cold fog of darkness, whirling and flecked with stars, was pouring from the crack at the bottom.

Feyre Archeron, her face pale and jaw set, looked upon the tendrils of darkness now lapping at her feet. With a deep breath, she knocked loudly and opened the door.

She did not pause at the wave of cold night that washed over her at the threshold, nor at the brisk “What?” bitten out by the occupant. She only paused when the shadows cleared and she saw the patient clearly.

The Prince of Night sat up in bed, framed by outstretched, massive black wings. The span of wings was echoed in swirling black tattoos on his expansive bare chest, split by a wound covered in bandages across his shoulder.  His face was fine, if a bit wan, and adorned by a vicious frown. His eyes quickly snapped to Feyre as she stood in the door. But it was the wings, gleaming iridescent in the light, that took her breath. It looked as if he sat upon a throne ensconced by those vicious and beautiful tokens of death.

At least, it did at first. Now that she took a breath she noticed the way his wings were scaffolded by light fabric tethers and a framework of wooden dowels. Covered in bandages and oily with salves whose scent filled the room and her nose. Blood, too, dripped to the floor and across his white silken sheets, and bled through the starched bandages. She saw gashes and holes in the thin membrane of his wings, the skin raw and irritated and covered in healing ointments.

Just like that, her determination wavered at the sight of his injuries. She had spent enough time in Spring’s healing tents to know his wounds were fresh, and to recognize his pallor and sheen of sweat upon his brow as tokens of his pain. 

Feyre realized she had been frozen on the threshold of the room, staring at his wings. Dropping her eyes, she met the menacing stare of the son of Night.

The warden bustled past her and into the room, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Apologies, my Lord. She…”

“I thought I ordered you to let me remain undisturbed,” the Prince bit out, his voice hard and impatient.

“Yes, my Lord, but -“

“Are you Rhysand? Prince of the Hewn City and son to the High Lord of the Night Court?” Feyre asked.

The Prince’s eyes were upon her again, glowing in the dim light of the room. “I am.”

“Good. I’ve been looking for you.”

“And to whom do I owe this unwanted disturbance to my peaceful convalescence?”

Feyre swallowed. This was not going as she had planned, if she had a plan at all. She was the one who was angry, she was the one with demands.

“Well?”

“I am Feyre.”

“Well, that explains everything.” Her face turned to a scowl as his eyes roamed over her body, full of haughty judgment. A pang of embarrassment, and then anger tore through her as she considered her rumpled tunic, cut and tied to fit around her bandaged arm, her plain pants, her weather-stained leather boots.

Before the warden could start his bumbling apologies again, Feyre forged ahead.

“I am being kept here against my will. I wish to leave. And the warden,” she looked to him with what she hoped was utmost disdain, “told me you were the highest ranking fae here, while the High Lord of Dawn is away.”

Rhysand laughed. It was a bitter sound.

“Do I look like I am giving orders here?” he asked, spreading his arms against his outstretched wings. “Do I look like a lord of Dawn? I am as much a prisoner as you. Moreso, as I’m being kept in chains.”

The warden stood straighter as Feyre clenched her jaw. With High Lord Thesan gone for what could be the end of the war, and the nurses’ endless vigil in front of her door, she had no means of escape.

From his bed, Prince Rhysand sighed. She watched him wince slightly at the movement of his shoulders.

“And why would you want to be released from this gentle hall of healing? You look as if you’re in need of it’s services,” he said, his eyes again on her body.

She knew what he was seeing. Had seen it herself in the glass this morning, before she tilted it away from her bed in dismay at the grayish pallor of her face, her skin papery and thin, the blue veins beneath giving her a sickly hue. Her eyes had charted the scratches on the left side of her face and neck that refused to heal, stark red slashes on her skin.

Of her arm, bandaged and tied closely to her chest. Only her pale fingers, chalky white and withered, gave any hint as to what lay underneath.

“I wish to return to battle,” Feyre said, willing confidence and command into her tone. Surely a High Lord’s son couldn’t deny the war one more willing soldier. “I did not wish to be sent here and I do not wish to waste time waiting to heal. I only wish to fight.”

“Why do you not wish to be healed? A wounded warrior is of little use on a battlefield. And haven’t you heard that we all talk of victory and peace now?”

Feyre lifted her chin high, poured all of the confidence and pride she could muster into her face. Thought of Lucien, of Tamlin addressing his armies.

“I am an archer in Lord Tamlin’s personal guard. And battle is where I belong.”

The prince regarded her further. His anger had softened and the blackness swirling about the room had dissipated to soft shadows. He tilted his head. “Again, an archer who cannot use her bow isn’t much use to an army.”

“I have other skills to use, my lord,” she said, the last words dripping with ire. “Not everything heals. And I do not fear our enemies nor death on a battlefield. Indeed, to die in battle is an honor, is it not?” She wished desperately for him to heed her words. Every hour she felt the final battle rushing further away from her, like the ships traveling swiftly across the sea. Surely, a High Lord’s son would not deny the war another willing soldier.

Prince Rhysand swallowed. “An honor?” he laughed, low and dark, the sound pulsing across her skin. “I suppose it is. Certainly those bleeding on Prythian’s fields no longer have to face the horrors of what we have done or what will come next. Is that what you wish for, Lady Feyre?”

Feyre bristled at his tone. Whatever future waited for Prythian had little to do with her now. “I am a warrior pledged to battle, and the battle still goes on, and yet I am here.”

She wasn’t sure what it was, now, that look on his face. Silence filled the room.

“Well, Lady Feyre,” she chafed again at the term. No matter that she had explained to her nurses that she was not a lady, the epithet had followed her through the halls. “Whether it was the Cauldron, the Mother, or the old gods, our lives have been spared. And, as I have explained to you, I have no authority here in the halls of the Dawn Court. Even if I would grant you my blessing to send you to your death, the sentiment is meaningless here. So I am afraid we both will remain imprisoned, and live to see another glorious day.”

Feyre took in a deep breath through her nose. A second.

“Then you will not help me?” Rhysand wore a frown.

“Not in this.”

“Fine. Apologies for disturbing you, my lord.” she said, and turned on a clipped heel out the door.

Read the rest on AO3

#acotar #feysand #rhysand #feyre #acotar fanfiction #acotar gift exchange 2023 #lord of the rings AU