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rosietrace · 2 years

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Four realms festival, autumn season

Banner below will be used for future four realms festival hcs

♜ ♛ _________________________________♛♜

The planning

So the four realms festival(s)

Very exclusive event that not many people outside of SHI residents can attend

And the few non-student guests are either people Eclair handpicked herself

With help from Meryl of course ÚvÙ

Or family members of a student with approval to enter the campus by Eclair

But I digress

Today was the day everyone began to prepare for the autumn event of the festival

But due to complications with the planning, the festival wasn't able to be held between the first week of autumn

So they decided to make an exception for this year

Meryl was extremely excited to help plan the festival, her golden eyes practically shone like the sun because of that excitement

The students, particularly the Animania and Pemburu Hutan residents(they were the dorms hosting the autumn event), looked in amusement as Eclair ran her errands with Meryl in her arms

As for the staff, well.... 😬

Brooke: CLARK STOP WEARING PINK, IT CLASHES WITH THE DECORATIONS

Clark: LOOSEN UP BROOKE, IT'S OCTOBER.

Brooke: S O??

Clark: MEAN GIRLS SEASON!

Finnigan: Mean what?

Clark:

Claudette: *WHEEEEEEEEZE*

Ambrosia: -.- *continues her errands*

M. Monroe: ರ⁠_⁠ರ

Meryl: Momma, is uncle Clark okay?

Eclair: Eh.... Yes, dear, he's fine-

Despite Clark's antics, the planning for the event was smoother than butter

Claudette and Ambrosia handled the food stalls

Brooke handled the music sung by the animals within the academy

Finnigan dealt with security and made sure to handpick the best suitable guards in the security unit of the school

M. Monroe was handling the decorations and dress coding with Meryl

And Eclair was the one to approve all decisions made by the staff and students

The students all wore cute autumn friendly clothing with orange leaves and all that jazz

But for the most part, the handpicked guests Eclair had invited didn't arrive yet

♜ ♛ _________________________________♛♜

The staff shenanigans before the invited guests arrive and the actual festival begins

Everything was pretty much prepped by now

The staff all wore coordinated autumn clothing, and wore stylish but durable coats in case they get cold

Meryl was also almost done getting ready in her adorable autumn outfit that was a gift from Ella(@phoenix-manga 's oc)

Eclair could gush about how cute her daughter looked for hours

Clark was gushing with her

Meryl felt cool when she put on the sunglasses

Unbeknownst to Eclair, Ambrosia snuck some butterscotches into Meryl's bag as a snack

Say whatever you want but for whatever reason, Meryl likes butterscotches

Meanwhile Brooke and Clark were bantering yet again 🙄 smh

Brooke: WHY ARE YOU WEARING A SHIRT THAT SAYS 'A little bit dramatic'?!

Clark: IT'S WHAT REGINA GEORGE WOULD'VE W A N T E D

M. Monroe: Would you two shut your pointless banter? Meryl's ears are still sensitive to shouting.

Clark: ;v;.... Okay-

Brooke: -.- He started it, Marylin

M. Monroe: It doesn't matter, Averett.

Eclair sighed really heavily, saying that it's almost time for the guests to arrive and that she and Meryl need to greet them

Even going as far as to say "Don't cause trouble"

The staff promised not to cause too much trouble and continued to finish up prepping their appearances

♜ ♛ _________________________________♛♜

Chaos. Chaos everywhere.

Remember when Eclair advised the staff not to cause trouble?

That shit backfired immediately after she and Meryl finished greeting the guests

Shit was happening left and right

Endless mean girls references, both the movie AND the Broadway musical

A few people passing out after smelling the wild flowers that Claudette forgot to move

The chimpanzees attacking students and guests when they try to enter their territory

Literal shit show

Clark's mean girls references never seem to STOP, people keep asking Ambrosia questions because she was onced accused of almost murdering the ruler of her former kingdom

So much shit is happening Eclair can't even focus without getting dizzy by all the neverending chaos

But for whatever reason, everyone loved it either way and it surprised the fuck out of Eclair

Meryl was having the time of her life tbh, it was adorable to see her spending time with Ella and seeing both of them fangirl over the aesthetic of the festival

I feel like Ella almost fainted when she first entered

If you're wondering how Ella's still alive despite the poisonous atmosphere of the plants, Eclair probably gave her a brooch that let her move around more normally

Eclair: *sighs* Despite the chaos.... Malory would've loved it either way.

In spite of all the chaos happening around her,

Eclair just decided to let things go as they may and let loose

And honestly?

Quite the shock to see Eclair Ciana Hollow let loose and have the time of her life in the festival since she usually keeps a calm and composed face

I think a few people almost had a seizure and a possible heart attack from seeing her smile so much

And when Clark gave her alcohol?

HOO BOY

As composed as Eclair usually is, she's a fucking party maniac when drunk

She has a high alcohol tolerance, but when she reaches her breaking point it's over.

It's just is. All composure is no more and she's a party animal

Witnessing her and Clark sing Apex predator from the mean girls musical was quite the sight to see

Finnigan: This is why she can't drink more than 4 bottles

M. Monroe: I'll add a passcode to the liquor cabinet so Clark can't enter as easily -.-

Claudette: PUH-LEASE, I'M R E A L L Y ENTERTAINED BY THIS

Ambrosia: You usually are

Brooke: PICK ME UP, I'M SCARED-

In general it was VERY chaotic

Meanwhile Meryl and Ella were having fun looking at the aesthetics and completely ignoring drunk Eclair 🗿

Mostly Meryl tho, Ella was quite startled

Finnigan was actually enjoying the festival and did his best to ignore the chaos-

Most of the magnijardin residents still complained that their outfits clashed with their complexion and wanted to change but they couldn't cause dress code is mandatory for the festival to remain cohesive XD

And then there's the Pemburu Hutan residents who are absolutely SLAYING their autumn looks with Animania

Save some of that stylishness for the rest of us, pls 🥹

♜ ♛ _________________________________♛♜

The wing race, the end of the festival

It was the final day of the festival and everyone was both stoked and saddened

The festival was fun despite the initial stress, and it was a bit sad for the residents to start tearing down the decorations until the winter festival

But either way, they couldn't have a festival all the time

Marylin's obsession with the budget wouldn't allow that

So now it was time for the annual wing race between bystro letayuschiy and pemburu hutan

And everyone was hyped

But BOY were the contestants fast at flying

Everyone was pretty dang sure that they defied the speed of light and were arguably faster than sound

Clark was hyping up both teams since he shows no favoritism-

Same thing applies to Finnigan since he cares about both dorms equally

Meryl: Momma, who's going to win?

Eclair: I'm not sure dear, it really depends

Meryl: Oh.... I hope both of them win!

Eclair: *giggles* You do?

Meryl: Mhm! I don't want any of them to be sad when they lose....

Bless Meryl's soul

In the end, it was a tie

Pemburu hutan was better at navigating

While bystro letayuschiy was better at general speed

In the end, Finnigan declared the race to be a tie and the festival concluded

♜ ♛ _________________________________♛♜

Meryl sniffles, "Can I see you again tomorrow when I go to your school, miss Ella?" She asks.

Ella chuckles, softly patting her head."Of course you can, Meryl! I'll be sure to help you make more friendship bracelets!" She exclaimed joyfully, gently giving Meryl a hug right after.

As Eclair finished opening the portal to diamond crown academy, she approaches Ella.

"It is time for you to return to DCA, miss Glaciel."

"O-Oh! I see... I would like to thank you again for inviting me to such an exclusive event, lady Hollow."

Ella curtsied, tugging at the hems of her skirt. Eclair smiles softly before doing the same thing after Ella.

"There is no need to thank me, miss Glaciel. Since Briar attended the spring event and miss Alison attended the summer event, it was only fair that you attended the autumn event." Eclair picked up Meryl, who began to wave a goodbye at Ella.

"Bye miss Ella!"

"Goodbye Meryl!" Ella says, before the portal closed. Leaving Meryl and Eclair alone.

Soon after, Meryl yawned and quickly drifted to sleep thanks to Eclair's magic. The latter giggled, kissing the top of her daughter's identically blonde head.

"You had a long day, my darling... Sleep well."

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bloodymarsupials1 · 17 days

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sooooo, i wanted to make this because i apparently cant reblog and i have no idea why. (i'm referencing the little...challenge? however you want to call it by @drinkyourvillainjuice.

anyway here it is, i also added a few fanfics just cause.

The Second Sight @spoiledblog (demo) You’re an urban legend in a county full of them. When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons. You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

After The End @albywritesfiction (demo)

Your former fiancé and heir apparent of the Aurelian Kingdom, Prince Ædan, has married the love of his life, the fair Saintess Helene. As the nation celebrates their union, you are left alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart... until you receive two letters. One is an invitation to the office of Prince Ædric, the crown prince's younger brother and rival for the throne. The other is a letter filled with concern from your childhood friend and secretary-in-training, Cyfrin, who is currently assisting your father at your family’s ducal estate in the countryside. Each letter contains a proposition that will change the course of your fate forever.

Which one will you choose?

God-Cursed @wings-of-ink (Demo)

you were found as a newborn, clutched in the arms of your dead mother at the base of a tree. No family came to claim you, but the men who came to your rescue adopted you as their own and became the only parents you’ve ever known. Growing up in the village of Stonebrook, you never want for much, until the day you first fall ill. Life plagues you with a mysterious condition that no one can diagnose or cure. You never know when it will strike or if it will eventually kill you. Living between fear and hope as you age, you try to come into your own as an adult with the ever-looming threat above you. As years pass, your condition seems to improve, until a mysterious mark appears on your body and opens up new questions.

It appears that you’re marked for death with no answers as to why, and your only chance to survive is to go out and seek them.

Journey through the land of Iroda, a fantasy world where the gods have abandoned their people and magic no longer prevails as it once did. Something is brewing that may change this world forever, and you’re in the middle of it, though your role is a mystery you must solve. Wanted dead by some and alive for mysterious purposes by others, you just want to survive. With the help of a few friends, find the answers that you need, and make your choices.

Before We are Ghosts @anjiefiction (DEMO) When a powerful villain threatens the safety of Metamora, you and the city’s heroes go to great lengths to stop him, and ultimately you are forced to pay the biggest price of all.(Against all odds, the heroes win. The victory is hollow.)The doctors are professional, if not sympathetic. They tell you that your body is in the process of slowly shutting down. No, they aren’t sure why. No, there isn’t a cure. When you ask how much time you have left, the faces grow dark. Perhaps a year, they say. Two if you’re lucky.(You thought you could rest. You thought wrong again.)For as threats resurge and the past rears its ugly head, you can only wonder: Do you have the strength to see things through? Will there be enough time?And when the end comes, can you find the courage to say goodbye?

more than me @ryanstillwrites-if (Demo) On a Wednesday morning, you leave your doctor's office with the diagnosis of an inoperable brain tumour and the knowledge of an estimated four months left to live.Suddenly left without any direction in your life, you find yourself in a support group for the terminally ill. Where you expected to find sadness, melancholy and a looming sense of dread at thought of a fast approaching death - all the same feelings you harbour - you find smiles and laughter instead.You're drawn in by the people you meet there, curious and confused by their carefree attitudes. They're kind to you, they take you in, they turn your frown upside down - literally and figuratively. And just when you think you might be beginning to accept your fate; they decide to throw all caution to the wind and whisk you away on the adventure of a lifetime.You don't know what will come of the next four months but with your new friends at your side, you're excited to find out. After all, this is the only life you've been given, and though it may be ending soon; you might as well live it to the fullest.

Omen of Ice @omen-of-ice (no demo) The North has been all that you’ve known your whole life— residing within its icy landscape as part of House Eirlys; Wardens of the North. You’ve never thought you’d one day leave to head south to Vela’thian— the kingdom of the elvhen— much less that you’d head there due to your betrothal with the king himself.What will await you once you arrive? Is everything as it seems? Or is there something more brewing beneath the surface of the seemingly pristine nation?Will you find your way back home? Or will you find something, or someone, worth staying for?Let’s see how your story unfolds…

Mons Immortalium @mons-immortalium-if (DEMO) Mons Immortalium is a fantasy romance interactive story. Human MC falls into the magical land of the faeries, a mountain island that has been secluded from the rest of the world for over a millennium. Break curses, fall in love and beware of wicked faeries. Whatever you do, never give them your true name!

In the Cards @inthecards (demo)

You've always had psychic powers. Reading auras, speaking with the dead, and channeling spiritual energy through runes - these number just a few of the things you're capable of. It's not an unusual gift in the kingdom of Khepris, though it's uncommon enough that you've only met a few other people with such abilities in your small hometown.

After a plague sweeps through the kingdom, unrest bubbles up in the realm known as the Beyond, home to fae and spirits alike. A group of fae who call themselves the Butterfly Court are testing the boundaries between your worlds, and they don't seem to care what harm they may be causing along the way.

With a deck of tarot cards imbued with mystical powers in your possession, you're pulled into the struggle against the Butterfly Court. You must join one of two organizations - the King's Guardians or the Hounds - in order to fight back against this mysterious court… or risk losing everything.

Parasitical @parasitical-if (DEMO)

His flesh, our sustenance. His blood, our drink. His bones, our foundation, His body, our haven.

Five hundred years ago, the Earth was dying. Water polluted, dirt infertile, forests and meadows crumbling to the wars of steel and fire. And so the Order called His Grace, the Lord of Communion, down from where he rested before and He allowed humanity to rest inside his body.

Or at least, that's the story the Order tells.

You grew up under the masked faces of their Exalted, under the stories of Earth past. Rusted metal and cracked plastic; His bone and His flesh. Conflicting worlds, conflicting times, and soon, it might all come to a head.

crown of ashes and flames @coeluvr (demo) The war had taken everything from you.King Luceris had taken everything from you.You were just nine years old when all of this happened. One moment you were in your room sleeping and the next you were walking through smoke and ash trying to find your parents.Love, he said, was the reason he started the war. Ironically, you lost everything you loved but you also lost yourself when he let you survive and dragged you away to his home.In a new Kingdom with no one on your side what choices will you make to survive? Who will you become?Inside of you, there’s something burning for revenge and there’s only one thing I want to tell you. Let it out.

Bleeding Heart @bleedingheart-if (Demo) Congratulations, you got engaged. Whether that is good or bad is ultimately up to you.Shortly after your engagement, your fiancé sets out on a journey to the distant lands of Transylvania, a real estate opportunity that proved too irresistible to decline.With your wedding temporarily on hold, you don't hesitate to respond when your childhood friend Lucy implores you to pay her a visit, seeking your company and counsel with an urgent matter concerning her very own future.The strangeness begins as you arrive in Whitby, a charming coastal town where the Westenra's estate resides.

checkmatein 3 moves @checkmatein3moves (DEMO) YOU are the heir; the child of one of the most powerful women on Oracle Island. When she’s accused of murdering her sister almost forty years prior after the revelation of a suspicious anonymous tip, her power falls to you — but so will her reputation.Many questions present themselves: is your mother a killer? Who wants to see her fall for it? Who will make the next move in the inevitable game? Can you play as well as the rest of them?The Elite Class are full of blood and schemes. Your generation carries the scars of those before them, and thus you all must join the game or face the consequences. But dark intentions are cloaked in silk and diamonds, and the heady taste of power corrupts like an infection.

The Abyssal Song @ri-writes-if (DEMO) In the underworld kingdom, where demons fight for survival against the abyssal monsters, you are just an Oracle. In the distant past the Oracles were at the top of the demonic hierarchy, but those golden days are long gone. You did what you were most afraid to do and now sit under arrest in the royal palace.When the Abyss sends you a vision of a terrible disaster that will happen in the future, you make an inevitable “deal” with the Sovereign to try to change the future and improve your abilities, not only to become stronger and learn more about the coming disaster, but also in an attempt to achieve mind stability.However, what has been happening to you since you received the vision makes you think that you are already slowly but surely losing your mind.Will you be able to maintain your sanity and help others protect the kingdom, or will you become just another name in the long list of Oracles gone mad?

the lonely shore @thelonelyshore-if (DEMO) Meet me at the cabin. Please.You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.A town you can't leave.Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Kenneski @devilishmango (here)You were ripped away from your home, your life- all because you were accused of using magic. Sent away on carriages, bursting full of others like you, being brought to Kenneski Prison. It’s a prison made specifically to hold those that can wield magic, making it so you are powerless. It’s a death sentence for most that go there. But not for you.

stagnation @stagnation-if (DEMO) It's the year 2524, and you're a defeated God/Goddess/Deity in a place and time where your kind is rarely needed anymore. After being locked away and thought to be dead for nearly a millennia, you wake up.

The Fall of House Black @endemise (DEMO) The fall of House Black, your house, was an imminent thing. A name had never been so cursed that all it could do was bring about death.First, your younger sister in a swimming accident, then your older brother in a case of mistaken identity. As the rest of your family sought to grieve and bring justice to your brother, your older sister was killed in a hunting accident at the end of your father’s bow.The three of you, mother, father, and child, became inconsolable. Broken beyond repair. Your mother unable to bear the weight of life any longer took her own while your father disappeared, gone into the night. When you remain the sole survivor of House Black, you know you must leave, and on the night of your decision, your home goes up in flames with you inside.Then, you awake, dazed with no recollection of anything, and when you look down at your body, you scream. It is wrong. So wrong.

Drink Your Villain Juice @drinkyourvillainjuice (demo) Everyone knows that superpowers come about through three distinct methods.One can be born to their abilities, see them emerge in a moment of great strife, or acquire them through extensive cybernetic augmentation.Everyone is wrong.You’d know. If only that knowledge—and your snazzy slash horrible powers—didn’t come with a host of strings attached. Too bad that was an offer you couldn’t refuse.Did I mention one of the strings was supervillainy?Thrown headlong into a life of crime, balance conflicted loyalties, personal scars, and navigating a web of secrecy and deception, all while maintaining your cover.Above all, remember to drink your Juice. Your life depends on it.

The Gilded @the-gilded (Demo v1.2) Your younger brother, Leo, went missing three days ago. Your parents called the police, and they started investigating quickly. They were too late. Leo had already disappeared into the deepest part of the forest, where the mortals have vowed never to return. The police have offered to contact your family if Leo crosses the barrier back to the mortal side, but their investigation can’t go any further without inviting the wrath of the Fae.The winter solstice is approaching fast, which means that the High Fae are likely gathering mortal children for their great feast. The only way to get your brother back is to follow him into the forest and steal him back from the palace of the High Fae… If you can get there in one piece. The Fae forest is full of tricksters and killers, and you'll likely need some allies to help get you both back home.

VANGUARD @vanguard-if (PLAY) As a faering, you should want to keep to yourself. Your home is a safe haven where your dragon kin people reside; a place of true neutrality. There are no allies to the Midlands, nor are there enemies. Your people simply are, and this will not change.But you were never one much for rules, were you? With whispers of a certain prince in the Northlands allegedly receiving death threats from your docile leader, Cirrus, you could only slip away into the depths of the North to go see for yourself. It's so hilariously outrageous that your peace-loving ruler has such rumours teeming about them.You did not expect to find a bounty hunter bleeding out from her abdomen. And most of all, you did not expect her to know you by name, even through her raggedy breaths. And most of all, you did not expect her to have leads on the one you seek: the Northern Prince.

TWISTED GOLD @icaroif (DEMO) In the wake of an attack on your village that left your father dead and everybody you had ever known missing or the same, you are given one option; find your uncle in the Capital or else run for the hills and never look back. It was never really a choice anyway.

NINE BLOOD DANCES @nineblooddances-if [DEMO] You were a gift. Now to whom? No one knows.All that matters is that you are a gift and not like any of the others of your species. Uniqueness and importance oozes from every fiber of your being. You're important. Everyone says you're important. But why you're so important?Who knows?You must figure out what makes you so special and different. You must figure out what drives you through all circles. And you have to figure out why the nine commanders of Hell all have their eyes upon you and wish to have you by their side.All before the fall of the ninth moon.

Trouble Brewing @troublebrewing-if (Demo) it's all fun and games until someone loses a head!Quinn, your best friend, has brought you some awful news: your illustrious parents, having run out of potential mates for their brood, have set you up with the worst person you know -- Devon Bainbridge. Your intended is uncouth, self-indulgent, and ten years your senior.Of course, if no one can find you, the wedding's off, right?Make daring escape from your family's castle, get pressed into joining a rebellion, and find yourself fighting alongside a plucky bard, a brooding bandit, a naive idealist, and a fool-in-training. Escape marriage, join a rebellion, and find love… or sabotage it all.

ANECDOCHE @anecdoche-if (Demo) You wake up chained to a chair by one of the most notorious gangs in the country, only to be saved by one of the most famous hero organizations only a few moments later. Who wants you so badly that they would hire an entire gang to abduct you, and can you really trust the Supers that have been put in charge of your protection?

Blood of Morana @blood-of-morana (demo) You are one of the people, cursed with Morana’s magic, which gives you power over both winter and death. You can imagine that being one of the White Deaths hasn’t exactly made you the beacon of hope or the icon of popularity among your people. Worse yet, some of your magic has been sealed, making it impossible to witch away the inquisition.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart @doriana-gray-games (demo)

Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!

Make an enemy of a friend and a lover out of an enemy. Solve the case of boredom. Have a pet bird—and best of all, play as a romantically and emotionally stunted genius detective!

nemisi @elegy-if (demo) The struggle between cosmic deities — now worshiped (or abhorred) as gods — tore its way into your planet not long before you were born. Unlucky for you, you were one of the first generations to be born exposed to Excinate, the name given to the radioactive-like sickness that comes from being exposed to magic not of your world. As you've built up a bit of an immunity to the more dire consequences, you were promptly ripped from your family after a doctor's visit when the Excinate got a bit too close to your childhood home. Since then, you’ve been shipped around and transported from facility to facility to be poked and prodded at.Until now. No, now you’re free.Aside from that lingering hunger for flesh you’ve had since becoming infected, of course. Just a little side effect from the radiation, along with a mouthful of jagged teeth and a jaw that can unhinge like a snake.

Burning Academia @burning-academia-if (Demo) You never thought you'd go to college, due to your circumstances. But you especially didn't dream you'd be forced to attend the prestigious Vales Grove University after being attacked by wraiths in their library. What started as a visit to a long time friend, ended with your hands burned, your innocence questioned, and the startling realization magic is real.To apologize for what's happened to you, or more accurately, to keep an eye on you, the Headmaster himself offers you enrollment with all fees waived. With no real choice in the matter, you become a student, and try to ignore the suspicion everyone throws your way. Besides, you have worse things to deal with.Like how you've started to attract ghosts and other dead things, or the fact that there is a very living thing inside your head, waiting for you to lower your guard and take control. And most pressing of all, managing your obligation to a family that hasn't been such a thing in years.Tread carefully, if the ghosts don't devour you, the university certainly might.

lightweaver: Chosen @lightweaver-chosen-if (DEMO) A world where elemental deities share a fraction of their powers to their chosen, bringing upon the age of weavers; humans with the ability to manipulate the elements of their patron.You have been chosen by a mysterious lightning deity—blessing you with the power to weave lightning. But with a troubled childhood haunting your every step, your new abilities present a double-edged sword.The choices you make, the support you receive, and the inner strength you harness define your journey—a journey fraught with anguish, but one that promises a life outside Mother’s grasp.Two divergent paths lay ahead.Will you let yourself heal and grow, or will you fall deeper into the void?

Talon's End @asheepinthenight (DEMO) You were never destined to marry for love.As the third child of the Earl of Eastthorn, your purpose is to marry to your family's advantage, but after one failed engagement already, your prospects are less than promising. So when the Crown calls upon you to infiltrate the lair of an Elven sorcerer in search of a powerful magical weapon, the offer is too good for your family to refuse.But leaving your respectable home to marry an immortal being of immense power quickly puts you in uncharted territory. Between your secretive, disagreeable spouse and their labyrinthine spire infested with strange creatures, your mission to uncover their secrets is risky from the start. But as you come to know both your partner and your new home at Talon's End, you discover terrors and wonders unlike anything you've known–and the true price of your mission.

Leas: City of the Sun @sailingshellsgames (demo) Enter the city of Leas, where humans dwell in safety behind city walls while strange and powerful Fey roam the wilds. Play as one of a rare few skilled enough to explore the outside world, an agent of Den Zarel.After making a dangerous discovery you are sent on a mission that unfolds into an adventure that will unearth more than expected, and more than you alone can handle.Fortunately, you’ll have help along the way: a lifelong friend hiding a dangerous secret, a mysterious and taciturn rogue, and an eccentric and charming mage unite under your banner to help save your city, and possibly, the world

#OMG #IT FINALLY WORKS!!!!!!!#btw this is like page 6 of a 45 page list #all of these are GOOOD and would recommend #my brian goes 'nom #NOM NOm

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gorjee-art · 6 days

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Your concept of The Lamb is great. I really like its design and story.

However, I wonder if The Lamb is aware of his past lives? Does he remember those he left and have any feelings towards them? Does he happen to miss anyone?

I like to imagine that Lamb once they do ascend, is pretty much just- nature! Kind of like a state of nirvana, the closest I imagine to how the Elder God's internal thought process goes is Jake in Nirvana! Or even Master Oogway in the Spirit Realm (as they are both huge inspirations for how I go about Lamb's interpretation)

That pure state of no longer needing any mortal vices, free from emotion except bliss, just...light! Their life is over, they died, they've become something much more and their soul is at peace. Vengeance has been served and forgiveness was given, they have nothing that binds them to keep living anymore, no more unfinished business. Many followers seem to forget that their leader...is dead! Undead, more accurately through the power of the One Who Waits, but regardless they're hollow, cold, and don't need to eat nor sleep. Once the crown overtakes them, that's it! Finito! Granted:

@vxredemption's fanfic has got me thinking of possible ways to "awaken" Lamb during that Elder God state, as even Jake was tempted with...hilariously. Gum. A mortal vice. Mayhaps with strong emotion, or plea, or overall something just as silly as gum of all things, can temporarily return lamb's silly billy ways as a spirit comes to visit relatives.

In short, they don't remember...but they can, the question is...how!

#ascension of mercy - cotl au #threeface speaks

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givemeonereason · 5 months

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Legacy pt 2

Part one here

Rating: 18+ only!

A/n: @actuallysaiyan girllllll I got you! Thanks for the love. That was the first fanfic I’ve written in over 12 years :)

I hope I’m able to try and write more. If anyone wants it. Or maybe just for the hell of it.

╒══════════════════════╕

7:00 pm

The tower fan in the corner of the room oscillates against your bare skin sending a slightly shiver up your spine.

You’ve been kneeling there atop the satin sheets of the kingsize bed for ten minutes. Though it was quiet in the room aside for the low hum of the fan, your mind was loud with anticipation.

Should I obey his wishes and stay undressed?

Should I put on a racy set of lingerie that I know will make his blood rush with desire?

Either way he’s going to get his way.

A small giggle spread your lips into a smile thinking about his rigid, hot body against yours, his calloused fingertips digging into the soft, plush of your hips, his thick cock plunging so deep inside of you. A moan escaped your lips and you wiggled your hips.

I can’t wait until he gets home.

Your imagination snapped with a squeak of the doorknob, opening the bedroom door. It took a few steps before he towers overtop of your kneeling frame.

Instinctively you reach out to touch him. But before you’re anywhere close to reaching him he smacks you hand away. A small yelp left your pouted lips. You rub the soft skin of your hand to dull the sting of his swat. Despite his cruel reaction you’re still so desperate to run your fingers across his strong chest and feel the warmth across the his hard abs. You licked your lips looking him over and tried to reach out once more.

Your effort was in vain as he grasped tightly at your wrists. Looking down at you with narrowed eyes and disappointed.

“Ah-ah, what did I say last night?”

Your eyes quickly move from your bound wrists in front of you to his eyes, his eyebrow arched and a knowing smile.

He brought your hand down towards his belt having you undo the buckle, leather and zipper.

“Go on.” His voice was stern. But you knew the price you’d pay if you disobeyed.

Another small look at him before you freed him from his briefs. His cock so hard in your hand. You lean forward and taking the flat of your tongue against the tip. He lets his eyes close, a small groan reverberating through his chest. The tang of precum permeating your tastebuds sending goosebumps over your bare skin. His own aphrodisiac that sends you into spiral of lust.

You take him into your mouth slowly. You can only take so much of him at a time. Even though you knew his intentions, he let you take your time taking him in before he would fuck your throat.

Slowly adjusting, slowly more. The deeper you took him the more he growled. You almost had him all the way in before he thrusted forward to fill the gap. It didn’t surprise you, but you choked nonetheless.

“Mmmm, what a good girl.” He starts to set a slow rhythm of his hips. You are skilled with your mouth, swirling your tongue, hollowing your cheeks. But what he loves the most is what you do with your hands. The way you caress his balls when he thrust against the back of your throat. The way your fingers dig into his muscled thighs. How you claw at his skin when your eyes flutter with both pain and pleasure. That makes him absolutely feral.

His thrusts become more rough and erratic. He’s gripping the hair at the crown at your head. He’s grunting and growling almost animalistic. “This mouth is perfect.” You can hear the rasp in his voice as he’s barely able to talk through clenched teeth. “Your mouth was made for my cock.”

He was so close, you saw his pulsing veins up his arms. You know how hard he is trying not to thrust at full strength as he would most likely hurt you in the process. You sucked harder thinking about him pounding hard into your wet heat. A trigger that sent him into his peak. His head thrown back and a loud moan escaping his throat as he emptied himself inside you. You continued through his orgasm, sucking him for all he’s got.

His hand dropping from your hair to your chin. “Did you finish it all?”

You nodded your head, looking up at him through eyelashes.

“Let me see.” His fingers are wrapped around your chin prying open your mouth. You stick your tongue out and he smiles down at you and wiping the stains of saliva down your chin and neck.

Your eyes close when he lightly grips at the soft spot of your throat. You moaned into his mouth as he leaned down into kiss you fervently.

You were lightly gasping for air when he broke the kiss, picked you up from the edge of the bed and laid you down against the pillows. His eyes are hungry looking at your naked form fully on display for him.

He stripped the rest of his clothing from him. Your eyes glazing over his body. Your cunt clenching around nothing with need.

He placed himself between your legs. Vegeta kissed you again, your hips bucking want him against you, inside you. He was so close, just not close enough. “Impatient woman.” He laughed, kissing down your neck and down your chest taking your pert nipple in his mouth. Again, you arch your back, bucking your hips. He bit down and you yelped. “You want your prince that bad, woman?” You hummed wiggling your hips. “By the end of night you are going to bear a Saiyan.”

Vegeta reached down pressing his fingers between your slick folds rubbing circles over your neglected bud. “Geta, I need you.”

He’s ignoring your pleas, dipping two fingers down into your entrance. “Vege….please, baby.” His fingers curling inside your tight walls.

He kisses you hard. “So tight.”

When Vegeta pulled his fingers from your heat you reached out grabbing onto his arms, pulling him towards you with force. This is nothing compared to his unmoving strength.

He held you down to line himself up against your entrance. He slowly rubbed himself against your folds for lubrication before he pushed the tip inside.

You are feverish now, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms until he bottoms out. He groans into your ear. “Tight…tight around this cock.” Pushing so deep inside you.

Vegeta thrust hard against you with brutal force. You began meeting his thrusts with all the energy you had left. “You’re going to…” Deep roll against your cervix. “…look so beautiful with my child inside you.” Roll again, again. “Beautiful.”

“Vegeta, cum. Cum inside me.” You moaned, rolling your head back against the soft pillow.

Faster, he pushed. Deeper, pushing at all your soft parts. Perspiration collecting around his brow. His lips on the pulse of your neck trying to muffle his grunting. His fingers laced with yours gripping the sheets.

“I’m close.” His voice barely above a whisper between his ragged breaths.

“Baby…” you back arching, reaching up pulling him against your chest. His cock twitching inside your clenching walls.

You shook almost violently, bitting down on his shoulder. He rolled down into your heat pushing you through your orgasm. You were almost limp when he ramped up to finish.

Overstimulated moans passing your lips when he grabbed onto your hips, the headrest slamming into the wall.

He shot his seed inside you. Emptying himself, leaving his half erect cock inside you in a mating press.

“This is only the beginning, my little human. When you catch your breath,” he kissed away the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. “I will fuck you until I’m sure I’ll stick.”

╘══════════════════════╛

Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!

Reblogs and likes appreciated :)

#I had too much fun writing this #I want him to all over me #prince vegeta x reader #vegeta x reader #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball fanfiction #prince vegeta #dbz vegeta #DBZ

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moobell55 · 6 months

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Your Love Made It Well Worth Waiting (For Someone Like You)

A very fluffy fanfic

This part contains no Smut, however a second part with smut will be posted soon

Evangeline never thought she'd been the kind of women to want a quick elopement; as a young girl she'd dreamed of a beautiful wedding full of family and friends.

But Evangeline no longer had a family, and the moment she'd been waiting for her entire life would be better alone.

Her feet shook as she walked the lite path. Flower petals lined the ground, brilliant colors that even stood out against the darkening sky. Her pink and white dress swayed around her feet, gold lacing lining the skirts and her corset.

For the first time since coming to The Magnificat North Evangeline Fox truly felt like she belonged to royalty. A crown of wildflowers rest in her hair, she spent all day making it away from her soon to be husband.

Overhead the moon and stars showed to their fullest, like all the celestials' in the sky were here for her wedding.

The thought brought warmth to her heart, that some greater force led them to each other, finding peace for both of them.

Her feet walked on their down towards the dock, where her true love awaited her. Her heart beat frantically, something in her mind telling her this was too good to be true. After all the suffering that they'd gone through that someone would tear them apart again.

But Hope rang through her soul, and Evangeline could not resist its call.

The Silver ring on her finger felt like a beacon to him, and like a moth to a burning inferno Evangeline followed.

Her pace picked up when she caught sight of the tall man waiting for her at the end of the dock, his gilded hair gleaming under the stars. The look that crossed his Silver eyes set her heart ablaze, she felt like she was burning in the sweetest of fires.

Jacks held out his hand and Evangeline took it as if it was the last thing she'd ever do. She'd die in the next moment if she didn't touch him; she'd cry a million tears to have his lips against hers.

And every part of her existence knew Jacks had done the same without her. Knew of all the blooded tears he cried searching for her, the corpse left in his wake while he lost hope looking for her.

Evangeline had enough hope in her heart for both of them.

Evangeline was the only star in the sky that mattered, the only saint he would pray to, the candle that guided him home, the arrow that always struck true.

She was his as last, and after a thousand years of searching for his one and only true love, Jacks was happy.

Something he'd only been when he knew her, those gray eyes had haunted his soul since his first gaze upon her in his church. He wondered back then if she'd remain a tool, but she hadn't been in a long time.

He could remember the first time he held her, despite his displeasure he cherished the moment. Wanting to hold her again when she'd healed, wanted her lips upon his, wanted her warm body against his fridge one.

He loved the women in front of him more than anything in this world, he defied death and time to keep her safe. He did the impossible, and for her he'd do much more.

Nothing mattered except for her, nothing would ever compare to her.

Jacks would kill for the women in his arms, he'd die and pray to every god to be reborn to find her again. He'd search every corner of the world, every village and every house if it meant having her.

In this life and whatever came the day after he will face his mortality he would be hers.

Perhaps he was hers from the moment he drew his first breath in this world?

In his Soul he knew it was true.

For Jacks of The Hollow, Jacks the Prince of Hearts, and The Archer, had always belonged to his Fox. His heart beat for one purpose, the women who wore his ring.

He smiled a brilliant thing that lite up the night sky and Evangeline's heart.

She spoke, "Shall we Wed now my beloved?"

Her voice shook, but he smiled and guided her to the end of the dock.

Candles set alight on the dock posts, flicking in the darkness.

He'd spent hours preparing this for her, so she could have the closest thing to her dream as she could.

How she loved this man in front of her.

A spool of Red ribbon rested on the dock, next to his silver dagger that she was all to familiar with.

"This is one of the old ways," his voice spoke at last, "my parents married this way, Honora and Wolfric married this way, and if they had more time Lyric and Aurora would've too."

He paused, "This is truly the only way I know how, legend says that it binds two soul together, so that they will always find each other."

Evangeline smiled and cupped his face in warm hands, her smile could've stopped wars and almost stopped his heart.

"I do not need a piece of ribbon to bind your soul to mine, my heart decided a long time ago that we will always be bound."

Jacks smiled kindly and rested his forehead against hers, and she to knew that he never wanted to this moment.

This state of bliss and love that would start the rest of their lives, their happily ever after awaited them on the other side of that ribbon.

How does it begin?

Her words slipped into his mind, not wanting to break the silence.

I'll measure a piece of ribbon, that we'll wrap around are arms, the binding words are spoken from the bride first than the groom.

Her heart fluttered.

And then what my Love?

His smile turned devilish.

He spoke, "We kiss, and then I take my new bride home and consummate our marriage."

Evangeline smiled and crashed her lips against his, the sound of his joyous laughter echoed across the lake.

And after an eternity of waiting, Jacks began cutting the Red ribbon of Fate.

He dropped his knife and it clatter somewhere he didn't care to look, he couldn't take his eyes off his Evangeline.

And carefully with their hands interlocked, Jacks began binding the ribbon around their arms.

Evangeline swore that her soul felt as it was clinging onto Jacks, her life was connected to his in every sense possible.

Messily Jacks tied the knot at the bottom and took a breath.

"The bride will say her vows first ," his tied hands squeezed hers.

"With the Ribbon I bind thee, soul and body to the keeper of my heart and holder of my hand. To Wed and love, for the remainder of my days and for even more after we fade."

As she withdrew a golden ring from her pocket, and carefully slide it onto Jacks long pale fingers.

As she looked up Jacks met her eyes, an eternal happiness burning in his soul not even the lake could put out.

And breathlessly he began his binding.

"With the Ribbon I bind thee, soul and body to the keep of my heart and the holder of my hand. To Wed and love, for the remainder of my days and for even more after we fade."

As Jacks slide the silver ring onto her finger she felt a pull to her heart, a pull that Jacks felt too.

A burning in her heart and soul that her husband felt too.

She didn't have time to dwell on it; as Jacks crashed his lips to her and carefully pulled apart the ribbon.

His lips consumed her, every inch of her belonged to him and she knew the man who was revenging her lips felt the same.

Carefully without her noticing Jacks placed the ribbon into his jacket pocket, he knew she would want to keep it for years to come.

And while still distracted Jacks swept his wife up bridal style and began walking towards their home, his lips not once leaving hers.

And so Evangeline Fox was carried by Jacks of the Hollow into their happily ever after.

#evajacks #stephanie garber #evangeline fox #jacks prince of hearts #tbona #tbona spoilers #the ballad of never after #ouabh #jacks x evangeline #ouabh spoilers #acftl #a curse for true love #once upon a broken heart #evajacks fanfiction #evangeline x jacks

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 4 months

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Last Updated: 2023-12-23

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Prince Hal/Henry V stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

❆ Twelve Days of Christmas￨Prt. II￨Prt. III￨Prt. IV￨Prt. V￨Prt. VI￨Prt. VII￨Prt. VIII￨ by smolvenger • 18+ • 〔F᜶A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You must face your first royal holiday celebration —the Twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany —for your first time as the bride and queen of the new, young King Henry V, a man you were arranged to marry, a man you hardly know."

❆ Green Sleeves by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Hal should be at the royal residence for the holiday but is instead at a local inn with Falstaff and Poins. He has his eyes on you."

See Also: Navigation || Prince Hal/Henry V Master Index

Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @smolvenger ||

#Prince Hal x Reader #Prince Hal x Female Reader #Prince Hal x Y/N #Prince Hal x You #Henry V x Reader #Henry V x Female Reader #Henry V x Y/N #Henry x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #The Hollow Crown Fanfiction #The Hollow Crown Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston Fanfic

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ascendanceseriesveteran · 9 months

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'I am Prince Jaron' - Short Fanfic 👑

*Set at the end of TFP with an alternate ending*

What if Imogen found out slightly earlier than in the books? What if she didn't wait for Tobias and the crown? What if Imogen was there to support Jaron when he confronts his past for the first time in years?

Even though I actually felt some inspiration, I feel like this cut off abruptly. Ran out of ideas. Sorry for any spelling mistakes as always

⚔️⚔️⚔️

I looked directly at Mott. “Go now.”

Mott nodded and took Conner’s arm. “Sir, Prince Jaron will be there. Let’s go.”

“I will get there in time,” I told Conner. “Have Mott secure the kitchen for us.”

They ran ahead and Imogen knelt beside me, asking, “You knew about Roden and Cregan. How?”

“It was their last chance to make Roden the prince.”

She reached for the hem of her skirt, intending to tear off strips for bandages. “Where are you hurt?"

“Nowhere. Everything is fine. Really.” I smiled and held out my arms to prove it to her. “I just needed a reason to get separated from Conner. Do you think Mott has secured the kitchen yet?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand — you faked that injury?”

“Yes.” It was the first time her confusion could have been mistaken for distrust. I stretched out my hand to help her up, “I’ll explain on the way.”

“But what about Tobias? What about the crown?” Even though nobody could hear us, she still whispered the word.

“The crown will gain him entry, and I won’t need it.”

“Sage—” She tugged me back as I started walking, searching my eyes desperately.

I squeezed her hand, “Trust me.”

Although she didn’t seem all that convinced, she allowed me to lead her until we saw light pouring into the tunnel and a figure taking up too much space to be anyone but Mott. I let her climb the ladder first and followed soon after.

“How bad is it?”

He was obviously asking about my injury, so I just grinned at both of them, “Practically nonexistent.”

Imogen’s frown deepened just as Mott understood, “Unbelievable.”

“I thought it was rather clever.”

“You think everything you do is clever,” This time it was Imogen, still looking as though I was some puzzle that had been scattered and she had to put together again.

“And since when can you talk?”

She gave Mott a pointed look just as I spotted Cook, my favourite chef who always kept silent about my midnight escapes through the trapdoor and into the world. And suddenly, I felt very hollow. I was home. I was prince. And yet I felt like neither. I longed for my family, but they weren’t here. Only Cook. Still, as if drawn to her like a echo from the past, I needed to see her. I needed someone to know I had come home before the entire kingdom knew it. I tapped her on the shoulder before Mott could stop me.

“Did you get the potatoes I asked—” The plate she held shattered at our feet and her mouth hung open. She was looking at a ghost, I realised. It was best to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So I just grabbed a pastry from behind her and winked. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I knew the tears I had caused weren’t out of grief.

I strode back to my friends with a grin, “Time to come back to life.”

Mott just shook his head with a smile but promised to remain at the sewer entrance to wait for Tobias, nodding once at me as though he knew my plan without my telling him. Perhaps also in good luck. I generously left him the rest of my partly-bitten pastry and exited through the staff door.

Imogen followed me in silence. Up the curving stairs I hadn’t stepped on for half a decade as I ran my hand along the stone walls, each bump and crevice unearthing memories from deep within me. And dread, and sadness. I pushed the last two emotions aside and dared to glance back at Imogen.

She no longer looked suspicious, only nervous.

“I have something I need to tell you.” I said as I stopped and pushed our backs against the wall. A guard was walking by, armed heavily in anticipation of the coronation. My old room was almost in sight. I knew how to get there unnoticed.

“Yes?” She whispered.

“I—” She looked at me with such trust in her eyes. Trust that would be broken in an instant when she found out who I truly was. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You don’t have to be. I know why you’re doing this now. I understand.”

“No, you don’t. Not until I tell you everything.” I gently ushered her across the walkway and into the royal quarters. And with a wave of nausea, I realised nobody would be here.

She noticed my distress apparently, “Sage, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I—” The door to my parents room. I gasped, seeing myself caught by them sneaking around. But that wasn’t real, of course. Just my own ghosts. “I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me.” This time she squeezed my hand.

And quietly, because the words seemed to seek refuge in my throat, “I am prince Jaron.”

“Yes, I know.”

“No,” I looked directly at her, “I am him.”

“Sage, I understand if you want me to call you that, and I will. But what’s really going on?”

It’s better to show than to try convince her of the impossible. I nudged open the door to my old room and walked in. The smell of pine and dust thick in the air. Everything was just as I had left it.

Imogen froze as the door shut behind her, hissing, “Sage, why are we in a royal’s bedroom?”

I took exactly three steps, knowing which floorboard I needed but still waiting for it to creak and then knelt down to tear it free.

“Sage!”

There, sandwiched between two loose pieces of wood, was the inspiration for Conner's prized replica. I lifted my up my sword and watched it glimmer in the moonlight. The leather warming in my palm. Rubies sparkling.

It was like the world quietened around me. Enough that Imogen's sharp inhale was just as loud as her back hitting the door. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Stop talking,” her eyes widened, “Wait, no. Forget I said that.”

She looked impossibly small when I stood back up, and suddenly she bowed low.

“Please rise,” I said. “It’s still me.”

She obeyed but shook her head, avoiding my eyes. “No, I don’t think it is, your Highness.”

I frowned at my sword as if it had personally ruined everything. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Her voice was almost imperceptible.

“I have everything to apologise for.” I allowed myself to really look around. A melted wax candle on my bedside table. The sheets tucked carefully into the bed like a treasured memory. Blue and yellow drapes canvasing the bedposts and pot of rotted flower stems, the petals long disintegrated. Forgotten, much like I was.

“Are you alright?” The words seemed to take on a new meaning.

“No.” I swallowed. Throat burning with unshed tears. But I had a job to do. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

I didn’t notice her walking up to me until she touched my wrist, getting my attention, “I understand.”

That was all I needed to hear. I was breathing again. Where Cook saw a ghost Imogen must have seen a complete stranger. And the thought of my closest friend no longer sharing that sentiment was a nice addition to the pain that was already crippling me from inside out.

"How much time do you have?" She was speaking quietly now. And, to my surprise, studying my face.

"The regents would have started their proceeding. Connor would have made it just about now. I expect another ten minutes until I have to make a grand entrance."

She giggled, "I'm not the least bit surprised you want it to be grand."

"I want Conner to think he's won."

"I forgot about that part. He has no idea, does he?"

"And he won't know until I have him arrested," I looked at her through blurry eyes, "He killed them Imogen. He murdered them all."

Her eyes widened and a look of horror flickered in her expression. "What?"

"It was him. I figured it out."

"You're saying--"

"He murdered my family."

I hoped that darkness made the tears invisible. Though I suspected the tremor in my voice didn't help me be inconspicuous. For days I had been filled with such unbridled rage, such resentment. Briefly I thought that I should poison him with the same vial myself. But an emotion I hoped I could withstand was haunting me. Loss. I lost my family once again... only this time permanently.

And then, like a bandage holding me together, Imogen wrapped her arms around me and placed her ear above my pounding heart. "I can't pretend to know what you're going though. But I want you to know that even though your life is about to change, I will be here if you need me to be."

"As a subject or a friend?" I sniffed.

"You don't have to order me to be your friend, Jaron."

I sighed. My name sounded so nice when she said it. I was longing to hear someone say it and know it was real. So I couldn't help myself, "Imogen?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you say that again?"

She chuckled slightly and looked up at me, her own brown eyes a bit glassy, "What? Your name?" When I nodded she smiled and repeated it almost reverently, "Jaron."

I tightened our embrace slightly. "Thank you. It has been years since I heard that."

"You should prepare to hear it more often. Or Your Majesty."

"As long as you don't end up calling me that."

"What, by your title?"

I raised my eyebrows and leaned in, "Yes. Or else I'll start calling you Lady Imogen."

She threw her head back and laughed, "That would be a sight. You'll have nobles turning over in their graves."

"Well they better start turning. Because when I'm crowned, it will be my first decree."

She stepped away, "What do you mean?"

"I already planned it, back at Fathernwood. As a thanks for all you did for me."

She was silent for far too long, "Jaron, I can't repay that."

"You already have. Several times over." I stepped close to her, "I would be dead without you, Imogen. Of that I am almost certain."

"It was just some cleaning alcohol, anyone could have done it."

"I'm not just taking about my wounds, Imogen."

And it was almost a whisper when she replied, "Thank you."

I cleared my throat, and with it, reined in my emotions, "Well..." I re-gripped my sword, "I think I should probably go. But I'm going to miss this. Being Sage was one of the best things that ever happened to me, and also the worst."

"You've lived the life of a royal and the life of a peasant. You know your people more that any ruler before you. And from what I know of you already, you are going to be the greatest King that Carthya has ever seen. I can't wait to see who you'll become." She bowed her head once more and looked up with a smile, "Now go and take your kingdom back.”

I kissed her cheek and headed off to take my throne, feeling, for the first time in my life, like I was where I was destined to be.

- The End

#jarogen #the false prince #prince jaron #king jaron #the ascendance series #the ascendance trilogy #the captive kingdom #the runaway king #the shadow throne #jaron #jaron eckbert #ascendance trilogy #ascendance series #ascendance series fanfic #the shattered castle

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thequeenofnightmares · 1 year

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My new Jurdan fanfic is up!

How The King Of Elfhame Got His First Tattoo.

Jude and Cardan can't keep their hands off each other, and all of their wild antics eventually gives Cardan an idea . . . something that will show the world his devotion to Jude.

—

“Mm—” I bit down on the rest of the sound as Cardan’s tongue grazed the hollow at my throat. His breath was hot on my skin. He was too good at this.

We had been kissing for nearly an hour, having quietly snuck free from the revel happening a few paces away in the woods. His hands had roamed all over me by now. My cheeks were flushed and my lips felt raw, and still I wanted more.

I stifled another sound as Cardan blew a breath into my ear. He was going to keep kissing me like this until I let myself moan, I realized.

I knew he liked when I made noises; and he knew that I would do anything to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing them. This all made for a playful and dangerous game; but, if I was being honest, it was my favorite game to play.

Cardan reached back to twine his fingers in my hair, his other hand toying with the golden kamarband at my bare waist.

It was maybe the most Elfhame outfit I’d ever worn to a revel; my midriff was left exposed, the gold and black embossed bralette that covered my breasts hardly more than a whisper against my skin. My shimmering golden sarong, tied delicately to a large ring of gold on the side of my thigh, was now hitched up scandalously high as Cardan pulled one of my legs up to hook around his waist. His fingers thrummed through the laces of my sandals, tied up high on my calf, as he stroked a finger down my leg.

I might have looked like a woodland sprite, had it not been for the crown of gold atop my head that marked me as Cardan’s Queen.

My queen, he’d called me all night. And, I’ll admit, I rather liked it.

His fingers tickled my skin, trailing across the kamarband, then down, then up, then across again. They left gooseflesh in their wake. I stifled another noise. I could feel his smile against my throat.

His hands were his third favorite things to use to make me act this way. His second was his tongue.

But I had weapons, too. And I also liked to hear his noises.

I moved against him, undulating my hips to match a sway in the music from the revel behind us. He sucked air in through his teeth and pressed his fingers tighter, pulling my leg closer around his waist. His lips moved back to my mouth. I allowed him one deep kiss before lacing my fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and guiding his mouth back to my throat. He obliged me.

With my head thrown back, I breathed heavily a few times to make him think I was going to moan. His body melted against mine, forging itself against me as if he could absorb the sounds he thought I was about to make. He continued his ministrations on my neck, traveling down and up, up and down, more passionately than he had before. Certain that he was about to win.

I smiled, then moved my hand to gently grasp his throat. He was panting as I pushed his head aside. And bit down on his neck.

It was just as hard as he always liked it, and enough that he rasped out a gasping breath before he caught himself from going further.

But I wanted to hear him louder.

—

Read the rest on AO3!

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lordansketil · 9 months

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So, a while ago, a friend and I talked about rewriting the duel between Maul and Sidious as a conversation where Sidious orders Maul to kill his brother in order to return to his service. Which, okay, cool prompt. But, for the last couple of days, I've been sick. So I haven't been up to much. When I haven't been working on this story, I've been binge-watching The Hollow Crown. Which... sure... fine... good. The problem is, now that I'm editing what I've written... it turns out that maybe writing Star Wars fanfic at the same time as mainlining Shakespeare while running a mild fever wasn't my best move ever. This... um... this is the first paragraph:

He has been waiting for this moment. Its teeth, gnawing at him like junkyard scavengers, have finally struck bone. His actions have accomplished that which madness whispered was impossible: to pull the greatest power in the heavens down to walk the dust of Mandalore. Or is this insanity? Insane to catch what you cannot kill. For his Master’s attention is such a quarry that to catch it is to be caught in turn. Even here, astride this darkened shadow of a ducal throne. For the bloodstained seat that sits atop this wretched system seems as small and wretched as an insect mound in the presence of true mastery.

What do I do, guys?

#i'm dying scoob #it's all like this #omfg #what is this iamic fucking pentameter?????#darth maul: shakespearean protagonist

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dustteller · 6 months

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I've been working on a fix-it fanfic this weekend bc I think our protagonists deserve happiness (well, they don't, but I want them to be, ok??). Here's the first scene I've written as a sneak peak! (And also a summary of wtf is going on, bc otherwise the scene makes no sense)

She Who Became The Sun AU were Ouyang didn't get the chance to kill Chaghan, and as a result, his plans took longer to unfold. This gives them time for 1) Esen to process his disilusionment with his father and start realizing how shitty he is, 2) Wang Baoxiang tries to be petty and pissed at Esen and basically just tells him how uncomfortable he makes Ouyang sometimes. This backfires spectacularly. Baoxiang will never forgive himself for being the one that got Ouyang a relationship. 3) Esen gets to actually see Ouyang start spiraling, and 4) Esen finally realizing and coming to terms with his own dumbassery. I genuinely believe he was getting there in canon, his father's death just derailed the impending development. With more time and pressure I think both he and Ouyang would have managed to truly become the cringefail couple they were meant to be.

Esen and Ouyang scene below the cut!

“Please, Ouyang,” Esen grasped at Ouyang’s hands with a hollow hunger that Ouyang had never seen in his lord before.

And then, he did the unthinkable:

“I’m sorry.”

Esen lowered himself, debased himself, let his knees touch the ground before Ouyang’s feet, and as he stared up, as Ouyang’s vision swam and almost blacked out at the wrongness of it, he apologized.

“I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Ouyang collapsed. He crumpled to the ground, undone.

Or perhaps, it was better to say that something inside him gave way, and like a building on fire being ravaged from the inside, his foundations and walls turned to ash under him and, unable to keep himself upright, he folded into the fires below.

Esen met his blank stare with a squeeze of a hand, Ouyang’s hand.

“I’ve failed you. I called you my general, and still I have been so careless with you. I never thought about it, but I’ve been hurting you this whole time, and you never let it show- No, I never realized. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

It was easier to stare at Esen now that they were both on the floor. Ouyang was still shorter than him, here, still had to look up to avoid his gaze and only had to look forwards to avoid it.

It all still felt wrong. It was the certainty that this scene had never been written out, was never meant to happen. He could feel it, trapped behind his eyes and as cold as the steppes in winter.

And yet, a rage long-repressed rose up within him still.

“How dare you.”

Esen’s molten-gold hands could still tighten around his, Ouyang found out.

“Why now? Why? After so many years, why do you care now?”

Why were his tears cold, on his cheek, when he had caught ablaze with impotent rage? Even as he yelled, he knew there was no bite behind his words, not for Esen. Perhaps only for his own tounge.

“I care about you.”

“You’re not meant to. Not like this.”

“I do. I want to fix this, fix us.”

“I’m a thing. I belong to you, you can’t apologize, not like this. This isn’t how it’s meant to happen.”

“Ouyang,” and Esen, sweet Esen, who had not once commanded him, brushed his chin softly with his fingers. It was only the barest touch, but Ouyang’s eyes snapped up, as if he had been waiting for permission, “It already has. I want to hear you. Tell me why you won’t allow yourself to accept this.”

“I’m just your general.” Ouyang muttered as Esen’s thumb sizzled away his tears.

And then Esen pulled Ouyang towards him by his collar, until his cheek was pressed against the crown of his head and his white-hot hands branded his nape and back.

“Exactly. There is no one in the world I trust half as much as you, no one else I want by my side. I've told you before, you're my best friend, my general. You've always done me proud. Please, let me in. I want to help you be as happy as you've made me."

And as Ouyang sat there, his forehead pressed against his lord’s shoulder, he closed his eyes and let himself sob out all the cold that remained behind his eyes.

And at last Ouyang lets himself burn.

#general ouyang #esen temur #she who became the sun #my writing #my thoughts #first few chapters will focus on Esen and Ouyang as the differences from canon are established.#and while I read HWDtW.#but don't worry bc zhu will def get lot and lots of screentime :)#to ouyangs eternal dismay.#she also thinks esen is incredibly mediocre and is dissapointed in ouyang. she makes sure he knows this (affectionately).#Xu Da on the other hand LOVES esen and somehow their friendship manages to be more embarassing for Ouyang than Zhu's ribbing #before i can get there tho i need to read the second book to know how I'll arrange the timeline/alliance #zhu is right tho esen is a bit of a mediocre toast man and ouyang can do better. ouyang does not want to do better.

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sillymarigolds · 1 year

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Between the Lines

I'm back writing fanfic after many years away from the wonderful community of writers and readers! This is my first THG fic and was inspired by the prompt "This Would Have Happened Anyway" on @promptseverlark but I just never got around to writing it in time for the challenge.

Also posted on my ao3 here (I'm sillymarigolds there, too!)

Synopsis: If the 74th Hunger Games had never brought them together, perhaps the 75th Hunger Games would bring Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark together instead. A canon-divergent AU fic based on the “This would have happened anyway” prompt on @promptseverlark

~*~

Early Summer

Crouching in the scrub, I strain my ears listening for the rustling of leaves that might give away any game. The chorus of birds is absent today, leaving only the hum of insects emanating from the trees.

I watch the shadows of the trees grow taller on the forest floor and sigh. It’s time to go.

I trudge back to the hollowed tree stump where I carefully wrap my bow in oilcloth to protect it against the elements. Readjusting my game bag with only two hares and some wild greens to show for my afternoon, I pick up my pace to a trot, making my way towards the fence. I stop briefly to listen for the hum of electricity. Hearing nothing, I wriggle under a loose section close to home.

The streets of the Seam are quiet, still awaiting the next layer of coal to be deposited off the backs of the miners toiling underground. I make this journey alone most days now. Since Gale has turned nineteen and started work at the mines, we are hunting partners only on his weekends off.

I have started to feel very envious of Gale sometimes. He no longer has to go to school and listen to lessons on the importance of coal production to Panem. He can finally support his family financially without relying on selling game at the Hob. And most of all he has survived the reapings.

The only place where I don’t have those terrible thoughts is the woods. Because in the woods there is no District 12. There is no Hunger Games. There is only green and bird song.

From the street, I catch sight of the clock atop the Hall of Justice and realise I am late to pick up Prim. Sliding my father’s hunting jacket off and dumping the game bag in front of an angry Buttercup who yowls in response, I cut through backyards to make it back to the schoolhouse.

The schoolhouse has apparently not changed in anyone living’s memory. It is only one room, built of whitewashed wood harvested from the forest that now lies outside the fence. Prim was supposed to wait outside on the front steps for me, but I can’t see her.

I fly up the steps, my braid swinging like a crazed pendulum behind me. Two of the long desks we sit at during classes have been covered in old cloths stained in many colours. The long bench seats have been pulled either side making it look more like a formal dinner setting than a classroom. Old jars stand filled with opaque shades of brown, grey, blue and violet atop the table. Pencils and charcoal are dotted between them. Darius, one of the younger peacekeepers is napping on a chair in the corner of the room, his hands resting on a folio stuffed with paper. The late afternoon sunlight casts a bright orange glow onto the crown of his head which rests on the window. The room is otherwise empty, but I see the back door is open, so I slow to a walk and make my way out the back.

I see the backs of Prim and Miss Flora our old schoolmistress standing over a tub together washing out paintbrushes quietly singing a folk song that calls for a good harvest. I take the stairs two at a time and walk around to stand opposite so as not to scare them knowing I have a light tread. “Prim, you said you would be out front,” I say hands on hips. Prim’s eyes widen pleading forgiveness. Miss Flora turns looks at me through her grimy spectacles and I swear I can almost see a hint of a smirk on her lips. She looks over to Prim and exclaims, “I’m sorry dear, time must have gotten away from us both. Thank you for all your help, I can take it from here.”

“But Miss Flora, Katniss and I could stay for a little…”

I open my mouth to rebut that no, we do not have time and that we need to make it home so I can cook dinner, but Prim continues:

“We still have to take all the paintings inside!”

Miss Flora pulls her hands out of the tub and wipes them on her apron, pushing her spectacles back up her nose. “I would certainly appreciate it if you two would do that, my knees aren’t quite what they used to be. If you could stack them all against the wall next to the blackboard.”

My stomach growls as I go to frown at Prim, but she is already wiping off her own hands on her skirts and skipping around the side to the building.

Miss Flora looks up at me and says, “Thank you Katniss, see you tomorrow morning,” and goes back to washing up, whistling the chorus of the song.

I follow Prim around the side of the schoolhouse to where the canvases are lined up to dry in the late afternoon sun. She has already got one in each hand and is heading inside with them. “Thank you, Katniss,” she says sweetly, and my face softens. I could never be angry with Prim.

As we pass one another, I catch sight of one of the paintings —a portrait of a man opening the door as he comes home from work in the mines. It is every bit a beloved father painted by an adoring child. But everything in it is too clean – the house, the father’s face, his clothes. One thing strikes me as true though, and that is his smile. I can remember my father always having one on as he walked through the door, bending down to hug me as I clung to his knees, and then he would scoop up a baby Prim to plant a kiss on her temple. Always the left one, where she has a birthmark so close to her hairline it is almost invisible. Sometimes I see her touching it when she looks at the photo of our father on the mantlepiece. Suddenly my chest feels tight, and I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the emotion swelling in my throat from spilling over into tears.

When I close my eyes, I can still see President Snow’s face pulling that letter out of the wooden box, his eyes cold as he reads out the words: “On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that the beauty and peace they enjoy at the generosity of the Capitol is still young, each district will send their youngest eligible male and female as tributes.”

The art was Snow’s addition. That “all the potential tributes should showcase their district and the generosity of the Capitol in art to be displayed in the Capitol before the Games.” There have never been proper art classes at school before. Only ever graphite pencils and plain paper which were already scarce. Most of the children in Twelve had only ever drawn on frosty windowpanes when there wasn’t enough money to keep the fire stoked with the coal their fathers toiled underground to mine during the long, harsh winters.

The day after President Snow’s announcement, a peacekeeper-guarded train arrived filled with coloured pencils, paints and paintbrushes in all the colours I could imagine and some that I couldn’t. There had been an announcement to all parents that children were to stay on Friday afternoons until the reaping to work on their pieces that would be considered for the “great honour” of travelling to the Capitol and representing our district. Of course, that should have include me, but I was excused by Miss Flora on account of my inability to think of anything I was remotely grateful for that the Capitol had given me. How could I be grateful to people who killed my father and left me and Prim to starve? Who will take away twenty-four twelve-year-olds to fight to the death for entertainment?

What I love about Twelve has nothing to do with them. I love Prim and my mother. I love Gale and his family. And I love the woods. Besides, my artistic abilities are limited to drawing hunting maps in the mud with a stick.

I blink my eyes back open into the afternoon and rub my eyelids with the hem of my shirt before Prim comes back. I grab two more canvases trying not to look at them and head back into the schoolhouse to lay them next to Darius’s chair with the others. Darius is still snoring softly, but has been joined by Purnia, another of the peacekeepers who is sitting on the opposite side of the room. We nod politely to one another having seen each other around the Hob. Prim and I continue this dance, passing each other with paintings in each hand, until I see Prim heading for the last two and I wait inside for her while Purnia starts collecting up the art materials from the tables into a large metal box with a lock. Purnia has almost cleared the tables and Prim still hasn’t come back inside, so I head back through the door and around the side where I see her standing perfectly still.

I walk towards her, my steps quickening as she fails to look away. “Prim,” I say from a metre or so away, but I get no response. She is so enraptured by the canvas she is looking at.

I reach for her shoulder placing my hand on top of it and eyeing her with concern. “Katniss,” she whispers quietly in reply, never turning her head to look at me. And so, I turn my head to see what has struck her almost dumb.

I recognise the scene immediately — it is the woods at the outskirts of District 12; the woods I left to come here. The leaves are the perfect shades of green with streaks of gold reflecting the sun overhead. There is even the dappled shade that covers the ground in the afternoons. I have this strange feeling of wanting to reach out and touch the leaves and hear them rustle under my fingertips. And then I focus on the figure in the middle of the painting, a girl with her face turned away and a long braid of black hair resting down the middle of her blue, floaty dress. Birds are perched in all the trees like a silent audience. Their beaks are shut, and they watch intently as if they have been held entranced by the girl.

“Katniss it’s you.” Prim says quietly, finally turning to look at me with tears in her eyes. It’s my turn to be struck dumb because I know she is telling the truth. My tongue feels like it has swollen up to the roof of my mouth and my throat feels as dry as if I hadn’t had a drop of water all day. Prim reaches out to me and takes my left hand in both of hers. She knows I can’t express whatever I’m feeling and not to make me try. She lets go of my hand to walk over and pick up the canvas with both hands, treating it with the utmost care, and starts walking it inside. I look over to the canvas next to it and see a warm hearth with a large scruffy yellow tabby cat and goat curled up on a rug and I smile knowing that Prim can always see the good through the grime.

Reaping Day - Part I

The sun is high in the sky, glaring off the windows in the square. There is no wind to flap the flag of Panem or the banners that have been hung on the Hall of Justice.

Prim and I have scrubbed ourselves to a healthy looking pink. My mother laid out her blue dress for me again, but at the thought of the painting I folded it and left it on the end of her bed. Instead, I am dressed in my favourite green blouse and skirt with my signature braid coiled up into a bun that sits on the nape of my neck.

My eyes flick between the stage and the younger girls a few rows ahead where I see Prim standing in her pink blouse and brown skirt. I have to keep reminding myself that she is safe. This time, my mind adds.

There is no need for the reaping balls this year. Everyone has known who will be going since the announcement or soon afterwards. The little girl Nona’s body shakes with her sobs. The boy Martin is trying to be brave, standing as tall as he can, but I can see the fear in his eyes. They are both Seam children — he the eldest of five, she the youngest of four. I walked past their parents: one mother sobbing like her only daughter, the other completely silent as if she had no tears left to cry as the baby slung across grabbed at her chest for comfort.

The paintings going to the Capitol have been hung behind the stage on a large piece of red fabric that I learned is called velvet. Prim’s painting is there amongst a dozen or so others. The painting of me is there as well. Together they tell a very different story of District 12 — one with fathers who always make it home, where there is always food to eat and coal to burn, where we are all surrounded by cleanliness and greenery.

Effie Trinket is back for the televised broadcast of the reaping. As usual she sports the bizarre fashions of the Capitol, with a gold wig teetering atop her head and red jewels stuck on her face. I adopt as neutral an expression I can through the proceedings. The entire district is silent apart from the wails of babies and the soft wooshes of fans held by adults to keep them from fainting. I can see the faces of the peacekeepers starting to falter as they too are struggling with the prospect of sending our youngest away to die far from home for the amusement of strangers. They end up having to restrain Nona as she tries to run for her parents. The only person whose resolve seems not to be tested is Haymitch Abernathy which I think is simply because he is too drunk to be aware of what’s going on.

When Nona and Martin have been taken to the train along with the paintings, the crowd slowly disperses. Prim comes and takes my hand, rubbing circles with her thumb over the back of it to soothe me. I can feel the tension in my jaw loosen a little. “What should we do, little duck?” I ask her, pulling my mouth into a closed smile.

“Can we go and look at the cakes in the bakery window?”

“Of course.” I know Mother will have already gone home to lie down.

Hand in hand we walk over to the bakery, an old brick building painted white and kept meticulously clean. I know the baker, Mr Mellark, well as he is one of my best customers. He loves squirrel, although I can only sell them to him when his wife isn’t around. She is a proud woman who thinks it is beneath them to eat game since they can afford “proper” meat.

I catch sight of the baker at the counter through the glass in the door and he dips his head at me in greeting, his eyes twinkling. Prim drags me towards the window, her nose mere inches from the glass, eyes roaming hungrily over cakes we could never afford.

As I stand there bent over holding Prim’s hand, I notice a new tray being pushed into the cabinet. Small cakes decorated with bright iced flowers on top. They remind me of the paint boxes from the Capitol. I stand up expecting see the baker, but instead my eyes meet his in a different face, that of his son, Peeta Mellark. His reaping clothes are covered by a well-used apron that bears splotches in many colours and a dusting of flour. I notice Peeta’s hands are covered in the same bright hues.

We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, I feel like he wants to ask me something. But then I hear his mother call out for him and his shoulders sag slightly and he turns away and disappears out the back.

Peeta the painter. It must have been him. Which just begs the question, why Peeta who has this comfortable life choose to paint me in the woods?

Reaping Day - Part II

Later that evening, out of our reaping clothes, we are drinking mugs of dandelion tea in candlelight in front of the empty hearth. I am oiling my boots to keep my hands busy and Prim is sitting cross legged with Buttercup on her lap. Instead of turning in to bed, Mother has fallen asleep in one of the armchairs. She dipped into her emergency stash of Ripper’s white liquor, which means she found today more distressing than usual. Father’s photo looks down on all of us from the mantle. The only sounds are my cloth rubbing against well-worn leather and the purr Buttercup eminates as Prim’s nails scratch his scalp. The broadcast of the reaping is at last over, each face of the tributes flashing before my eyes making me rub harder, my knuckles turning white.

A gentle knock on the front door brings me to my feet. Prim’s eyes are wide and worried as she stays rooted to the ground. Mother continues to slumber on.

I tiptoe over to the door and take a deep breath in as I open it into the cool night breeze unsure of what I will find.

A young man stands outside half in shadow, his head tilted down. “I’m sorry to come by so late,” he says, moving towards the light.

It's Peeta Mellark.

The left side of his face is covered with an ugly hand-shaped welt that has swollen his left-eye half shut. He is still dressed in his clothes from the reaping, his hands awkwardly holding his elbows.

My brain struggles to pass words to my mouth, so I instead wave him in and lock the door behind him. Prim’s hands are over her mouth. Peeta winces knowing what a sight he must be.

His blue eyes meet my grey ones. “I thought maybe your mother…” his sentence trails off. Of course, he is here for Mother.

I go to her and squeeze her forearm, but get no response, so I move to squeeze her shoulder. “Mother, wake up,” I say, my voice a little shaky. She screws her nose up but resists opening her eyes. Prim comes to stand next to me, taking Mother’s opposite hand, “Mother, please, there’s a patient here to see you.”

Prim has said the magic word. Mother’s eyes fly open, and she pushes down into the armchair to stand, smoothing down the front of her dress. She turns to see Peter still standing near the doorway. She gives no hint of pity in seeing his swollen face or his broken spirit.

“Come, sit,” she says like someone who was asleep only moments before. “Prim grab my bag. Katniss, boil some water.” She takes Peeta by the arm and leads him to our kitchen table, settling him in one of the chairs.

As instructed, I head outside to fill the kettle from the pump in the backyard. Seconds later I hear Mother come out behind me, and in my peripheral vision I can see her outline heading for the outhouse. The liquor must have caught up with her.

We head back inside together, not speaking until, as we are a foot away from the back door, she whispers almost inaudibly, “She always did have a nasty temper, his mother.” I almost stumble and fall behind her, closing the door behind me. In the dim light, I catch my reflection in the glass panes of the door and feel like I am looking at a ghost.

I put the kettle on the stovetop and sit down at the end of the kitchen table, watching Mother and Prim working together like a well-oiled machine. They grind up herbs and roots out of jars kept in Mother’s leather apothecary bag to make a poultice. The train of thoughts in my head stretches on without end:

How could his own mother do this?

On a day she was able to keep her son?

I must have lost track of time as I am broken out of my reverie by the order “Katniss, make Peeta tea with some willow bark,” as the kettle whistle crescendos in the background.

I make my way over to the stove, shifting the kettle off the hot plate. “How do you take your tea?” I ask without turning to face Peeta.

“No shu-argh-no sugar, thank you,” he replies, wincing at the sting of whatever Mother is applying.

I steep the willow bark with the tea leaves in one of our nicer mugs, listening to Prim ask Mother questions about the ingredients in the ointment she has applied. When the tea is ready, I make my way around the table to stand in front of Peeta. He is sitting quietly, hands folded in his lap, looking down.

I hold out the mug to him with both hands. He lifts his head up and I get a better look at the mark his mother’s hand has made. If I had a paintbrush, I could trace the outline of each of her fingers. There is a small section that is deeper and jagged where a ring has torn into the milky flesh of his cheek. Peeta reaches both of his hands out for the mug and his fingertips brush mine ever so gently. I want to yelp as the feeling of an electric shock runs up my arms, but I end up biting my tongue.

Our eyes meet again, and I look away.

Every time I see his eyes, I am back there, sitting in the rain outside the bakery.

“Thank you, Katniss,” he whispers quietly.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. “Excuse me,” I say to the room as I head back outside to rinse my mouth out.

When his tea is finished, Mother sends Peeta home with a small jar of the ointment and a poultice to keep on it to reduce the swelling. I couldn’t think of anything to say to him, so I sat there awkwardly with my stomach twisting and turning on itself.

She tidies up and heads to bed without saying another word. Prim gets into bed with her, pre-empting the nightmares she will have after today.

I crawl into my own bed alone, pulling the thin, woven blanket over me. I stare up at the ceiling and feel like the world is moving around me ever so slightly, pitching my stomach side to side even as I lie as still as possible. I feel so unbalanced and all I want to do is sleep to make it go away, but I also don’t want to close my eyes. I don’t want to watch the reaping replayed in my dreams. I don’t want to trace the outline of the mark on Peeta’s face. I can’t tell which is worse anymore, being awake or being asleep. I exhale all the air in my lungs and try to focus on the sliver of sky I can see through the roof, hoping sleep will take me by surprise.

Late Summer

I take every opportunity after the reaping to disappear into the woods.

The weather is still warm, but I leave my father’s hunting jacket on and stick to the shade cast by grandfather trees. The song of invisible birds rings out through the small clearing not too far from the fence. There is no need to hunt today, but I carry my bow out of habit. “If you aren’t prepared to fight then you have already lost,” as my father used to say.

As my eyes wander through the trees, I am reminded of Peeta’s painting — all those birds perched, listening. I feel silly, but I want it to be real, so I lower my bow and clear my throat. The words are tucked deep into my memory, and so as I start to sing, I close my eyes to help bring them to my lips:

“Down in the valley, valley so low, Late in the evening, hear the train blow. The train, love, hear the train blow. Late in the evening, hear the train blow. Go build me a mansion, build it so high, So I can see my true love go by. See him go by, love, see him go by. So I can see my true—" I swirl around as a twig snaps behind me.

The corner of a blue shirt and brown boot catch my eye from behind the trunk of a red oak.

I can feel my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I raise and draw my bow.

“Who’s there?” I ask. The birds are silent like curious onlookers.

From behind the tree Peeta steps out his hands raised in surrender. The mark on his face has vanished.

“Sorry,” he says, looking up past me to the trees, “I’m just here to paint,” he leans his head over to his left shoulder which carries a canvas bag. “I was going to move along but…” his voice trails off.

“But what,” I snapped, my bow still raised at his throat.

“But you really can make the birds fall silent.” He gestured up at the trees and I turned around to see the birds had come out into the open, onto the edges of the tree branches like spectators in the highest stands of an arena. They all stood perfectly still as if Peeta and I were Covey midway through an act.

“I remember you singing that song when we were in music class.” Peeta adds.

“My father always said your father could make all the birds fall silent too.”

I am glad I have my back turned to Peeta at this point because I don’t know what to say. I just stand their silently, making eye contact with each of the birds in turn.

“He wanted to marry your mother you know, my father that is. I don’t think my mother’s ever gotten over feeling like a second choice…” He adds.

“I’ll go,” Peeta says after the silence between us grows, he shifts his weight with the resultant rustle of leaves.

“Peeta, I’m sorry.” I blurt out as I turn back around and narrow the gap between us.

Now it’s Peeta’s turn to be confused. He looks at me with a furrowed brow, sunlight glinting off his eyelashes making them outline his eyes in gold.

“I’m sorry your mother did that.” I clarify, tipping my nose towards his left cheek.

Peeta’s brow relaxes, and his face twists into a sad smile. “She was so angry when she saw that painting,” he explains.

“But this was what I thought of when I thought about everything good and pure in District Twelve.”

I duck my head and feel the heat of a blush rise in my cheeks.

Peeta’s voice picks up where I left off:

“—so I can see my true love go by.

Go write a letter, send it by mail. Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail. Capitol jail, love, to the Capitol jail. Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.”

There is a commotion as the birds prepare to take flight, jostled by this new voice that sings in a slightly off-key tenor. To settle them, I join him to finish: “Roses are red, love; violets are blue. Birds in the heavens know I love you. Know I love you, oh, know I love you, Birds in the heavens know I love you.”

The last note of our voices intertwined seems to hang in the air, vibrating slowly.

Something different is in Peeta’s eyes when I meet them this time. It is both steely and determined, soft and enveloping. The trees behind him seem to shift back and forth despite there being no wind.

I feel myself drawn towards him and reach out for the same place that ugly welt marked his face. As lightly as moth wings, I place my hand where his mother’s lay. His skin feels like it is burning my fingertips.

Peeta reaches up to encircle my wrist.

“Katniss,” he says softly, looking straight at me.

And to make everything straighten out I press my lips against his.

#thg fanfiction #the hunger games #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3fic #everlark #this would have happened anyway #sillymarigolds

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