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justafrogandherumbrella · 1 year

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Welcome to Nowhere: Contracts

After the mayor leaves, the five of you are left alone in the office with Mr.Rotary. You’re not quite sure what it is about him, but the thought of being stuck in the same room without any outside protection makes you uneasy. Luckily, you’re not trapped alone with him. You have all your friends- including Gia, the mighty monster slayer themself. You’ll be fine.

“Well then,” Mr.Rotary says with a sigh, “are you going to tell me what it is you want or not?”

Gia steps forward, clearing their throat. “Right then, allow me to introduce myself. I am Gia, the mighty monster-slayer. I travel the land, hunting down the most wicked of beasts, demons, behemoths, and-”

“Alright, alright!” Mr.Rotary interrupts. “No need for long introductions, just tell me why you’re here.”

“Of course…” Gia replies, looking rather miffed. “We’re here because there’s a monster in Dispassion, and I’m going to slay it for you. “

Abandoning his disinterested attitude, he sits down at his desk, suddenly looking rather serious. “What makes you think there’s a monster here, of all places?”

“Well, you see my dog, Bea, can sniff out the locations of the creatures. Normally she can sniff out their exact position, but since leading us here she’s gotten herself all turned around. In other words-”

“Ah, I’m gonna cut you off right there.” Mr.Rotary held a dismissive hand up to Gia’s planet-face. “You said it yourself, see? Your dog got itself all turned around. There’s no monster here, your little pet simply made a mistake.”

A cold anger flashes through the swirling clouds on Gia’s face. “Bea doesn’t make mistakes. She-”

They are cut off by a loud, obnoxious ringing sound coming from Mr.Rotatary’s telephone head. “Ah, sorry, I have to take this!” He calls out cheerfully as he reaches up and removes the phone from the top part of his head. “James! How are ya’? Still up for tonight?”

Gia scoffs and mutters something under their breath before turning back around to face you. “We aren’t going to get anything useful out of him.”

“Should we just go?” Aderyn asks, scowling while watching the CEO discuss dinner plans with whoever’s on the other end of his phone/head.

Gia gave an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, probably. Let’s go.”

Just as you were about to turn heel and depart from Mr. Rotary’s office, his voice calls out from behind you. “Wait! Don’t leave just yet!”

“Yes?” Gia asks as you all turn back toward the CEO.

“Hold on, James, I’ll call you back.” He says, placing the phone back atop his head. “We still have business to discuss.”

“Like what?” Gia asks skeptically. “You seem pretty dismissive of the fact that a monster is lurking somewhere in this town.”

“Well, yes, the notion seems rather ridiculous.” He chuckles. “Nevertheless, I think we can reach some kind of agreement here.”

“Agreement on what?” Aderyn asks suspiciously, stepping forward to stand beside Gia.

“Well, depending on how long you plan to stay in Dispassion, we’ll need to draw up some sort of contract.”

“And why is that?” Adeyn asks again, narrowing her eyes as she looks at Mr.Rotary.

“Tch- I’m sure this one can explain it to you.” He scoffs, gesturing toward Gia. “I don’t have time to explain something so straightforward to the simpleminded.”

“Well then,” Gia begins, their voice filled with a sickeningly-sweet sounding false-tenderness. “Forgive me for being so simpleminded, but I would also like to know why we need to draw up a contract. A contract for what, exactly?”

“Well,” Mr.Rotary said, irked by their behavior. “Let’s start with what I was thinking, shall we? The contract would state that you would be allowed to stay in Dispassion, conducting whatever monster hunting tomfoolery you wish, so long as you agree to work here while-”

“Absolutely not.” Gia says tratly, cutting him off. “We’ll be taking our leave now. We don’t need your silly contracts.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, you do need it… if you plan on staying in this town that is.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing,” Gia says, mocking him. “We really don’t. We are perfectly capable of staying in this town without your help.”

“You misunderstand me.” Mr.Rotary says with a yawn. “This is my town, and I decide who is allowed to stay here. If you choose not to sign my contract, I’m afraid I’ll have to call security.”

“Yes well, you seem to have forgotten,” Gia says, bringing their hand to their hilt. “I have a sword."

“Now, now, there’s no need for violence.” The CEO laughs nervously. “Half! Only half of you will have to sign my contract- and I’ll help you find this monster you’re looking for, yes? How does that sound?”

“N-”

“And before you say no, remember: If you fight me, you’ll have to fight the entire town. You would have to slay hundreds of innocent people, that doesn’t sound much like a hero now does it.”

Gia stops, frozen for a moment, rage-filled storms dancing across the surface of their silver-blue planet. Mr.Rotary only looks on smugly.

“Allow me to discuss with my party members.” They say at last, their voice sounding stiff.

“But of course.”

The five of you, including Bea are ushered out of the room into the hallway, in order to have your discussion privately.

“I don’t like this.” Aderyn says first.

“Neither do I.” Gia responds, sounding despondent. “But he’s right, I can’t hurt the townsfolk.”

“Well, we could just… leave.” Emerson suggests. “We don’t need to be here.”

“And leave the people here while a monster lurks about, waiting to devour them?!” Gia hisses, aghast.

“Well-”

“I wouldn’t mind signing.” You interject, sensing the tension building between your friends. “Without counting Bea, there’s four of us. Gia and I could sign and you two would be completely safe- besides, it’s just a contract. If push comes to shove, we aren’t really bound to anything.��

“Hmmn, you’re right, Rue. We aren’t bound by anything, the two of us could sign that stupid contract, slay the monster, and hightail it out of here. Does that sound reasonable?” They say, turning to Aderyn and Emerson.

The two mutter and nod their heads in agreement, still uneasy but unable to counter the compromise.

“Alright,” Gia says, knocking on the office door. “Mr.Rotary, we’ve come to an agreement!”

Right on cue, Mr.Rotary swings open the door and stands leaning up against the door frame. “Excellent! What did you decide?”

“We’ll sign your contract.”

#writeblrcafe #my writing #writers life #weirdcore #weirdcore/dreamcore #dreamcore #writblr #Writers on tumblr #Welcome to Nowhere #work in progress #writerscorner #writers community #writing community #writing #Welcome to Nowhere: Contracts

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avalon-gardens · 11 months

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But I still love him

I forgot to add an author's letter to the last Angel Face but rejoice reader I'm back. I'm here to answer the question what's up with Angel Face anyways? Seems like our girl is tired of being a product she's turning herself into a project manager. A project manager straight from the projects lol one of Avalon Garden's best if you ask me. Ange; Face's Only This account seems to be taking off it's a shame that her top contributer is Joey Burgers Escrow's manager. Talk about an awkward situation. Although it seems like Escrow doesn't have a problem with it. Mom Issues anyone? A bit of projecting going on there. I can't spoon feed this story to you reader although I'm tempted. I heard a podcast the other day that talked about acting and how it's always way more satisfying to point. What they meant by point was to point the audience to the message of the story and not to just spoon feed it. It might go over there heads or it might be too subtle I guess that's the gamble in art it might just be misinterpreted. But enough about creative struggles lets get back to Angel Face or the Tragedy of an Entrepreneur. See I learned how to spell it.

Angel Face walks down the street holding her phone to her head. "Come on pick up bitch. I need you" Angel Face says to no one. "Hello" Samantha answers the phone. "Hi" Angel Face says, "Thank god your picked up I have a bit of a dilemma. I think I might have just ratted out Escrow to the police" Angel Face tells Samantha. "Good. Fuck Escrow. Are you just gonna let him use you your whole life girl? You have an Only This account now girl you're about to be so paid? It's gonna be a problem OK?" Samantha tells Angel Face. "No ya, I know. I just feel bad for Escrow. I still have feelings for him y'know" Angel Face says. At this point Angel Face is just pacing in place. She's about a block away from her house. "You still feel bad even after he tried to pimp you out to his fat boss Angel Face. Come on. Have some self respect" Samantha tells Angel Face. "I know. I've done real good on Only This. I've made like $6000 just selling my pictures and videos. I have facetimes and video request on there. I'm waiting on messages' Angel Face says. "That's good girl. That's a wicked good start. Send me your account info I'm going to get all my girlfriends to share your profile. Trust me some of these girls have over 100k followers. You're gonna blow up for sure. The next thing you should do is host a live video. I'll show how to do that" Samantha tells Angel Face. "Thanks girl, you really calm me down you know" Angel Face tells Samantha.

I would usually have like a reader's guide section here but I think I'm gonna leave it you reader to dissect the tomfoolery going on here. Anyways until next time dear reader. Peace out.

#indie author #author #fiction #writer #self publishing #authors of tumblr #book writing

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crossdressingdeath · 2 years

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how is ur inky's relationship with their companions? <3

In order, from closest to least close (and behind a cut because Long):

Bull and Dorian are Taelan's boyfriends. Yes I know canonically you can't have two LIs but you can in my heart. He would die for them and they'd die for him and they're among the only things keeping him from deciding the world can go fuck itself and returning to his clan in disgust. They might not always understand his culture and customs and religion, but they've never insulted any of it (...mostly, they both have some rather painful dialogue—Dorian re slavery and Bull re the Dalish "abandoning excess mages"—but it's minor enough that I can see it as more Bioware's refusal to let anyone be nice to poor Lavellan about their people than any reflection on their characters) and they're willing to learn, and honestly that alone would put them above most of the inner circle even if they weren't so genuinely good, both to him and in general. Dorian is sweet and genuine and Bull is charming and protective and he loves them both so much.

Solas is basically his dad/older brother. He's Dalish! He was raised to listen to his elders and absorb as much of their knowledge as possible and Solas has so much knowledge and loves sharing it as much as Taelan loves hearing it! Truly, a match made in heaven. ...A match made in the Fade...? I don't know what the Thedas equivalent of that saying would be. But also Solas accidentally got a bit attached in the process of saving Taelan's life right after the Breach opened and Taelan has picked up on that. My headcanon will forever be that Solas teaches Lavellan more Elvish and that goes double for Taelan. Also when they first met Taelan saw an older elf mage who clearly had a great deal of knowledge about Everything and latched onto that small amount of familiarity hard so they accidentally ended up bonding a lot more than either of them originally intended to. Redcliffe was Not Fun for Taelan. He has lost too much family to Chantry-related (even if only slightly) bullshit even without this latest tomfoolery. Also learning the truth about who Solas was... hurt? Just a bit.

Varric: Dad 2, charming dwarf edition. Never forget that Varric is pretty much the only person to ask if Quiz is okay in Haven post-Breach. Also, I believe he tries to track down the remnants of Clan Lavellan if they're destroyed? But I always bring up a guide for that series of missions so I've never actually gotten the clan destroyed, so I don't know for sure. But Varric knows how hard the hero thing is for a person to deal with! He saw what it did to Hawke! And while Taelan's no match for his best friend, he does want him to be happier than Hawke was in Kirkwall, at least. The fact that he invites you to a game of Wicked Grace where you get to just be a normal person for once... it's so good. Also I really do need to find out if you need to have recruited everyone to get that cutscene or if it's designed the way it is so that characters' parts can be cut out if they weren't recruited but that's not important right now. In my canon Varric calls Taelan Quiz and it's the only time he'll tolerate being called anything even vaguely similar to 'Inquisitor' once the Inquisition dissolves because Varric mostly frames it as regarding his habit of constant questions to everyone. Also he invites him to card games with the Kirkwall group sometimes (where it's revealed that Taelan and Merrill already know each other and also Taelan hero-worships Anders just so much).

Cole: He is confused. Taelan is also confused. This is good, they have something in common. Also Cole never asks him to do ~Herald of Andraste~ shit or act as Inquisitor and is happy to just sit in comfortable silence with him when Taelan doesn't want to talk to anyone. Although Taelan is glad the Anchor mostly keeps Cole from reading his thoughts; he does have some things he'd very much rather keep secret with the eyes of the Chantry on him and Cole's not great at keeping his mouth shut. Especially after the whole "talking about Taelan's sex life in front of his surrogate father" thing. Cole has some problems with Things We Do Not Talk About In Front Of People, which is generally fine (if a bit embarrassing), but sometimes there are things that The Chantry Faithful Surrounding Him Might Actually Kill Him If They Found Out About Them. (I bet they have some fascinating conversations when the Anchor's gone.) But he loves Cole like a brother and wants to protect him from anyone who might ever hurt him. Cole is just very good and sweet and always wants to do the right thing and it is wonderful.

Blackwall: It's... a little awkward. Taelan respects him as "Warden Blackwall"; he respects him considerably less once he knows the truth, although he does have a fair amount of respect for his willingness to go to his death to protect one of his men, even when he probably could've invoked the Right of Conscription as a "Warden". Taelan can understand the desire to start over. Blackwall has proved that he genuinely wants to do the right thing; Taelan can get over the whole "lying about his identity" thing, and fighting to save the world is better penance for what he did than dying. They hang out in the stable sometimes. Blackwall carved him a little halla statue after he mentioned missing them and it lives in his bedroom and he adores it. So... friends. More or less.

Vivienne: They share a healthy mutual respect. Taelan likes her, when she's not talking about the Circles being "the best option"; he grew up in the woods being hunted by Templars and more than half his immediate family died and he's still better adjusted than most of the Circle mages he's met! But she's intelligent and good at magic and helps him with the human bullshit he keeps getting trapped in without ever suggesting that his lack of knowledge makes him stupid or backwards or a savage or all the other things Orlesians generally think of the Dalish.

Cassandra: If she doesn't shut up about him being the ~Herald of Andraste~ and how important the ~Maker~ is, he may blast her with lightning. Taelan will never be able to forget her dragging him around, making it clear she intended to kill him for one wrong move because she assumed he killed the Divine and then press-ganging him into helping a Chantry organization. But sometimes he can almost forgive her for it. Almost. She... generally means well. He usually at least vaguely enjoys her company, when she doesn't get too Seeker-y. That's... sufficient.

Sera: Fuck Sera. Just- fuck her. Fuck her so much. I've stopped recruiting her because she makes me want to punch my monitor, but in-universe Taelan does pick her up and she is... dreadful. He... does his best not to react too much to her constant belittling of everything he is and holds dear. They are something close to friendly, most of the time, because Taelan doesn't want to risk rocking the boat by getting into screaming fights about how he's a Dalish mage when that's already pretty much everything the Chantry hates and it's best not to draw attention to it. Still, one day he is going to snap and dump his entire miserable past regarding the Chantry and the Templars on her and it's going to be A Time. He may cry! It won't be pretty! She's more tolerable by the time of Trespasser, but... yeah, they're never going to be friends.

Also bonus advisors, still in order of closest to least close:

Josephine: At least she's apologetic about them forcing him to play figurehead to a Chantry organization. There's that. And she's nice, and at least tries to stamp out any gossip about him. She also occasionally bribes him with snacks so he'll actually play nice with visiting Chantry-affiliated dignitaries. He is a simple man with simple pleasures, like snacks.

Leliana: She... scares him, a little. He likes her, and they agree on most points, but still. Scary, scary lady. He does make her Divine though, because if they're going to give him a say in who goes on the Sunburst Throne he's going to make it the most progressive possible option. But it's her he goes to when he's being told to go smile at Templars and she Gets It and handles the whole thing for him. They're definitely friends, she just... kind of scares him.

Cullen: Taelan has in his life wanted very few people dead as much as he wants Cullen Rutherford dead. He was told they would be a neutral organization, focused only on sealing the Breach and saving the world, and then Knight-Commander Meredith's right-hand man comes swanning up, talking about putting every mage they meet in a damn cage and working with the Templars instead and judging everyone who's ever gotten away with atrocities except for himself. If Taelan could kill one person in the Inquisition without potentially devastating consequences for his people as vaguely related to the guy who publicly murdered an Inquisition bigwig, he'd probably pick Cullen.

#dragon age inquisition #taelan lavellan #long post #asks #oh BOY it's a long one

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 4 years

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Fraxus Anastasia au #3

Fic under the cut ! Or on ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144866/chapters/57301969)

"Yoooo!!!!" Bickslow yells and immediately Laxus ? Yuliy ? gets snapped out of his stupour and pushes himself away from Freed, too aware of how close they had been. He can't shake the feeling of the man's breath hitting his ear like so, the ghost sensations leaving the tips of his ears burning.

"Sup fellas", Bickslow says as he strolls into the room, a woman somewhat reluctantly following him. "I brought an assortiment of snacks that could be classified as a fancy dinner if you aren't all that picky and I'm kind of counting on that." He winks at the both of them before plopping down on some couch and throwing the bag on a table. "Feast my underlings, your king has provided for you."

"I hate you", the woman spits out before turning her glare towards him. "And who is this fool?"

The fool himself would like to know too. With a lazy drawl in his voice, Freed joins the conversation. "His name is Laxus, you might've heard of him." The too large piece of chicken that Bickslow was trying to force into his mouth drops to the floor and the woman raises a single brow. "Right and my name's Evergreen Strauss." Picking the chicken leg back up from the floor, Bickslow points it at her. "I mean, it could be. It ain't that hard to add Strauss to it, all you gotta do is ask your boyfriend to become your h-u-s-b-a-n-d."

"Shut up, he isn't my boyfriend", she snaps before turning her attention back to the blond. "Laxus huh?" He shrugs. "Your friend is trying to sell it to me as well. Currently, I'm not believing him." A single smile slips past her guarded façade. "Good, you shouldn't. He's a pompous piece of shit." While Freed mildly protests her assessment of him in the background, Evergreen shoves Bickslow off the couch and seats herself on it. After extracting the couch from Bickslow, she takes the bag of snacks as well.

Patting on the empty spot next to her, she offers him to sit next to her. "Sit down and have a snack." Turning towards the other two men, she sticks out her tongue. "Bitches don't deserve anything, so don't even bother to ask." (Later on she ends up giving them more than enough.)

"I'm guessing these two have been awfully mean to you."

"No, it's mainly been Freed." The man in question makes an offended noise at this, but Laxus (he likes the name, okay? It's not like it's forbidden to use it. There are people with weirder names out there and he's an orphan so he has the right to choose) isn't done throwing him under the bus. As soon as the next opportunity arrives, he'll do it again.

Evergreen sighs at that and flicks Freed's forehead. 'You rude selfserving bitch, leave people alone." The man in question grumbles a little bit before dramatically flopping down onto the carpet. "Fine then. Oppress me even more." With a gentle smile Evergreen relays the following kind message to him. "Well, with the way you act, you deserve to be."

For a while no one says anything, but Laxus feels more than sees multiple pairs of eyes gliding all over his form. "If there's anything you guys want to say, just spit it out. You're creeping me out with the staring." Awkwardly Bickslow turns his head away as though he hadn't been staring (he's not a very convincing actor). Evergreen however isn't so inclined and continues to look at him, head a bit cocked. "Don't take it personal please, I'm merely assessing how big the chance is that you're our Laxus."

He lets her stare, opting to distract himself by fishing his necklace from shirt and twirling the dainty key attached to it between his fingers, trailing over the letters 'together in Paris' engraved in the tiny thing. The movement catches the attention of the three around him and while Bickslow is busy chocking on his chicken leg, Freed gives the other two a smug glance. "Shut up", Evergreens snaps before he can even opens his mouth, but the young man can't help but shrug cheekily. "Alright Ever dearest." At the open mockery, she decides to try suffocating him with a pillow. She doesn't succeed but the scene does draw a smile from Laxus.

After the bout of tomfoolery, Evergreen plops back unto the couch and shoos Laxus off it. "Fellas", she says addressing Bickslow and Freed more than him. "Tomorrow we'll be starting our journey to Paris. What do we do with him?" This time, she does address him, eyes boring into his soul.

"What does he want?" Freed hummed, faux-nonchalance painted across his figure. "Not that it really matters, I mean, our fourth train ticket is for prince Laxus and this young man says he isn't him. We can't take him with us", the man says, checking his nails and refusing to even spare Laxus a glance. The way he talks over him as though he isn't there grates on his nerves and he grits his teeth together. "I am him, that's what you said. Or are you going to take back your words now?"

"I am convinced, but are you?" The man's grin is infuriatingly patronizing and he tuts a bit at Laxus as though he's a child unable to make his own decisions. "I am the prince, alright? So my dearest subject", he smiles, spite colouring his words, "Shut the fuck up."

Holding his hands up as though Laxus' reaction wasn't perfectly reasonable, Freed sighs. "Oh prince of my heart, please do control your emotions. Such a blatant display of discontent is quite unsightly." Snorting, Evergreen gives Laxus a few pats on his shoulder. "I like you, please continue pissing him off. You're a good one Laxus."

Rolling his eyes, Freed lays down on the discoloured carpet beside the couch. "Our dearest future tsar is indeed quite lovely. I'm sure I'll dream of nothing but him", Freed taunted, eyes dragging across Laxus' entire form, a wicked grin playing along his lips. When their eyes inevitably met, Freed dragged out the words, "Nothing but my dearest prince", obnoxiously popping the 'p'. "Goodnight!" the man wished him with a wide, insincere smile before he wished Evergreen and Bickslow the same, fondness turning both his expression and voice kinder. It was a bummer that he couldn't be decent to Laxus like that. Wasn't that something akin to a capital crime?

"We'll be leaving early tomorrow morning, so you should try to catch some shut-eye as well", Bickslow explains before crashing right on top of Freed, who lets out a disgruntled little "oof". Evergreen curls up on the couch and Laxus awkwardly scans the room from his position on the floor. With a tired sigh he lays down unto the carpet as well, leaving a few feet between himself and the mass of limbs that's Freed and Bickslow. He doesn't want to get entangled with that.

Waking up, Laxus instinctively knows he's failed his resolution from the previous day. He's utterly engulfed in warmth and despite the hair in his mouth that's most definitely not his own, he decides to simmer in the heat for a while. Unused to the sensation, he draws the heatsource closer. In return his personal heater hums a little before tightening his arms around Laxus.

The little detail that throws him off though, is the insistent snickering around him. Reluctantly he opens his eyes and after blinking a few times to adjust to the light he looks at the being entrapping him.

It's Freed, because of course it is the most aggravating bastard on this unholy earth that has decided to interrupt his perfectly peaceful sleep. "Bitch", he mutters before looking up to meet the curious gazes of Bickslow and Evergreen. "Now that's a bit uncalled for baby", Bickslow judges and Laxus ignores him in favour of collecting a pillow from the couch. "It's time for him to wake up too, right?" Evergreen gives him a slight nod, but removes herself from the scene. He really should've thought harder about his following actions, especially considering that Bickslow scoots backwards too.

With an unforgiving force he brings the pillow in the direction of the greenhaired man's head. However, the two do not connect as Freed's eyes spring open and with a combination of both grace and brute force, he grabs Laxus by the arm and throws him over him, making him slam into the corner of the nearby table.

"Ah fuck, sor-" As soon as he notices who exactly it is he attacked, he stops mid-apology. An infuriating smirk plasters itself onto his face instead. "Dear prince, as you can see I'm a jack of all trades." Leaning against his side, the man lets his fingers skips across Laxus' shoulders, whispering: "I'll protect all of this for you, everything inch from head to toe." Laxus tries to swat him away but the bastard proves to be annoyingly strong. He ends pushing against a cheek that feels surprisingly soft to distance himself from Freed.

"Boys, if you could stop fondling each other for a minute, we have to catch a train", Evergreen remarks dryly and Bickslow cuts in, "and breakfast, preferably. I'd kill for a meal."

"Then do it", Freed says, eyes wide open. "Human flesh is-" Laxus takes it upon himself to silence him by gagging him with his arm. Dragging the struggling man along, he nods at Evergreen. "Let's go", he says and sighs wearily. He's already regretting this.

Eventually he has to let go of Freed, because dragging a man along in that manner is a bit suspicious and he isn't looking to be arrested. Thanks to what probably is divine intervention, the man has decided to shut his wicked mouth for now. Instead he's letting his gaze slip over their surroundings, letting it hover at certain foodstalls. The overall expression of his face is inconspicious, innocent even with his slightly parted pink lips and youthful glow. But in the depths of his eyes swirl wayward lights and Laxus shivers. Who knows what this man is truly capable of?

Soon, he gets a demonstration of Freed's slightly shadier sides. Although he has to admit it's nothing he hasn't done himself and that Freed's probably not the only crook at work at this market. Approaching one of the vendors with a bright smile, Freed draws the man into a discussion about his wares. Are they the truly the best in town, as his sign says and other useless questions.

Provoked by the questions, the man offers Freed a sample, boasting about his quality. Freed nods along as the man explains the process of making the bread, interjecting with questions here and there. As the vendor launches into from one passionate speech into the other, Freed puts his nimble fingers to work.

It's the nonchalance of his actions that truly baffle Laxus. He doesn't even try to hide his actions, he casually swipes goods here and there and to top it all off? The vendor doesn't notice. At all. As someone who's gotten beaten quite a lot for getting caught pickpocketing, he's envious of the whole ordeal.

After purchasing a single slice of lemon cake and bidding the vendor goodbye, Freed returns to them. "I got you lot some breakfast, want it now or on the train?" Laxus' stomach rumbles at that very moment and as the tips of his ears colour slightly red, Evergreen doesn't spare him his dignity and gives a light chuckle. "Although circumstances", she glances at Laxus and he glares back, "seem to demand we have breakfast now, I'd advise to wait until we can sit down. I think it would make for a far more pleasing experience, right?"

Agreeing with her, they continue their walk. "Do you always gather your breakfast in that manner?" Laxus asks Freed and the man shrugs. "Is it of any importance dear prince? Is being fed not enough for your royal highness?"

"I'm wondering if you guys don't even have enough money to eat...How the hell are we going to get to Paris?" Freed's mouth falls open in a surprised 'o' shape and he covers it with his hand. "Oh my...there's some form of intelligence there after all", he gasps in faux-surprise.

As he moves to swipe at the guy, Freed swiftly stops him by shoving the lather large remnant of his slice of lemon cake into Laxus' mouth. Gross. That thing's been in the other man's mouth. He doesn't hesitate to voice his thoughts, but does throw in a little thank you because he had been hungry and contrary to other people, he knows what manners are.

"No problem", Freed says, voice honeyed and sweet. "The knowledge that you are enjoying your stolen goods, brings me the greatest happiness my dear prince!" Laxus swipes at him again and Freed dodges by smoothly skipping forwards. When he looks back and sees Laxus indignant face and puffed up cheeks, he lets out a laugh that sounds surprisingly close to genuine.

#fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freedxlaxus #Evergreen #Bickslow #Raijinshuu #fanfic #anastasia au #TheFairyWrites

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veridium · 6 years

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67. “I’m right where I belong.”

Aw, this one’s gonna be good. Thank you for asking, friend!

67. “I’m right where I belong.”

The tomfoolery had reached epic proportions as the supper of the evening gave way to plans for even more rambuctiouness in the pub. Dorian’s singing, increasingly in and then out of tune as he continued to drink, only out-done by The Iron Bull’s roaring and curing as he argued over something silly with his men.

The momentum of the group, now gaining the company of Varric, Blackwall, and even Cullen, enticed by a redemption game of Wicked Grace. They began to head for the Great Hall open doors and out into the evening air.

The Inquisitor, sipping her remaining wine, laughed along with them, but when offered to come along, she crossed her arms with casual posture.

“I…I do not know if I can keep up with you all tonight. I am not in my true, ready form,” she said sweetly to Varric as he tried to convince her.

“Ah, come on, Lightning Bug, you always got another fight in you, and everyone knows it,”

From afar, Dorian’s lyrical tone compounded the wish. “My friend, I shall consider you a more dangerous enemy to me than Corypheus if you slight me in this! You will come along, surely?” he threatened, a tipsy Krem under his arm as they were going to spend another night either laughing or debating Tevinter politics – as much as you could do so competently whilst hammered.

“No, no, I – I am afraid I will have to increase suspense for my next night of mischief with you all. I promise it will end in nothing less than three dart boards catching on fire and five arm-wrestling matches that lead to men’s hands needing to be thawed out,” she patted Varric on the shoulder robustly.

“Ah, I see. Very well, Inquisitor. I suspect you have alternative interests for your time anyhow,” he turned and looked over his shoulder at her knowingly, before turning and catching up with the stampede.

“Maker, preserve Flissa’s patience with them all tonight,” she sighed to herself as they were off and away. Once she was not under the spotlight, she grinned contently as she grabbed an apple. Tossing it in the air, her eyes locked on the “alternative plan” she indeed had in mind.

Entering the office of the Ambassador, she sauntered herself in sweetly to see Lady Montilyet lit by only the dimming, tired fireplace light and a couple candles. Her face looked tense as she hunched into her desk, looking over what looked like the thousandth page of a dense treatise or report. She pensively rubbed her forehead with her index and middle finger, quill balanced in hand.

“My Lady Ambassador, burning the midnight oil yet again?” the Inquisitor took a shallow bite from her apple, before remembering she had her knife in her back belt pocket.

Flinching as she heard a voice after some time in silence, the Ambassador sighed. “It is nothing, my Lady, I am simply doing my duties. It is common for me to spend nights like this, especially when such an arrangement is in order,” she referenced the paper work in front of her.

“May I provide quiet company then?” Theia came and sat one thigh on the side of the table.

“Inquisitor, I…” she looked back towards the door, the source of which she heard many loud and joyous voices. “Shouldn’t you be out with your allies enjoying the evening? I know how they pine for your good company,” she answered politely.

Theia looked back over her shoulder briefly, following her gaze before returning her eyes to her. “Josephine, I am always where I belong, no matter where it is. Tonight, I choose to be here. Now, have you eaten?”

Josephine was about to continue arguing, but seeing her hand a sliver of apple to her, she was convinced. Taking it from her and having a bite, she couldn’t help but grin.

“You are too sweet when you want to be, you know that, my Lady?” she said, referring to the woman she loved with professional words, though she knew Theia would understand what she meant to say.

“If I was like this all the time, people would say the Inquisitor is too soft and sentimental. I save myself for very specific audiences.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, Theia tucking her chin as she smiled softly, feeling butterflies in her stomach as she was blessed with the sight of Josephine’s face and eyes lit by dim firelight

“I…I’ll refresh the fire for you,” Theia suggested, turning around.

“Oh, no, I am fi–”

Without much fuss, Theia had lifted a hand, levitating the firewoood that rested beside the resting chair. She restocked the burning pile in the fireplace, and when that was done, she motioned for a fireball to form on her palm, which she sent to the pile and lit it aflame, starkly brightening the room.

Josephine watched in amazement, stifling an attraction to her confidence and ability. As Theia once again turned to face her, she leaned back in her chair.

“Thank you, mi amor,” she let it slip.

“You are very welcome,” she replied, slicing another sliver of apple. “Now, tell me of these matters.”

#oc asks #theia trevelyan #inquisitor x josephine #josephine montilyet #mutuals <3

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raendown · 7 years

Link

For the Halloween prompts from @sumigakure

Word Count: 2566 Prompt: “witches/wizards” Genre: romance/comedy Characters: Tobirama, Hashirama, Madara Pairing: MadaraTobirama Summary: Every Halloween it's the same damn thing. This year he wants answers.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

It took a bit of creative dodging for Hashirama to avoid the three heavy tomes which flew in the general direction of his head. He smiled, absently waving one hand to catch the books with a string of magic and ensure they landed safely. A rather delicate glass candlestick headed towards his midsection and he caught that too. The smile grew wider when Tobirama’s head popped out of the cupboard he was violently emptying, hair is disarray and a smudge of something orange drying on his forehead.

“Where is it?” the younger man demanded.

“I think the last time I saw it was when you were preparing for that evocation for-”

“For Tsunade! Yes!” Tobirama leapt to his feet and hurled himself to the opposite side of the room, only just barely dodging the large cauldron bubbling away in the middle of the carpet. Hashirama bit his lip to keep the laughter inside. His sibling was such a composed man – except when he was practicing magic.

For being born in an age when magic was supposedly dying out, the two Senju brothers had been gifted with incredible stores of power, nearly unheard of within the last few generations. Hashirama’s magic helped him commune with nature and he largely channeled it for healing purposes. As a doctor it was rather easy to hide the secret of his true methods from the Mundanes who had long ago forgotten the existence of the more fantastic things in the world.

Tobirama’s magic, on the other hand, was much more wild. It had a habit of filling him and spilling over until he stayed awake for days on end researching a single spell, making his hair stand on end and his fingers twitch as he drew summoning circles, breaking his composure and leaving him looking like some sort of madman while he tore his own house apart looking for the correct length of yew wood. Hashirama shook his head as he watched Tobirama’s head disappear in to another set of cupboards. His brother had hurt himself on occasion during his manic episodes but that was more due to absent mindedness than anything else. His own magic would never hurt him. It was against the very nature of it.

“Is this-? No that’s maple. Nothing like yew. Useless. Oak. Hazel. Ash. Where did I leave it, it must be here. I need the yew for – oh!” With a low noise of triumph he reappeared, ducking out of the cupboard with a length of yew wood somewhat longer than his hand. The expression on his face could be said to be evil, although Hashirama maintained that there wasn’t a single evil bone in his sibling’s body no matter what Izuna said.

He should really talk to Madara about this rivalry between their brothers. Preferably sometime before they ended up dueling in the streets in broad daylight.

“This is just what I needed. Ha!” Tobirama reached distractedly in to a jar sitting on the mantle place, retrieving a handful of glittering blue sand and tossing it thoughtlessly in to the cauldron as he passed it. The bubbling liquid inside belched a cloud of smoke in thanks before settling back down to simmer quietly.

“Why do you need new wards, again?” Hashirama asked. Tobirama didn’t bother to look at him as he marched over to the ring of crystals he’d set up on his kitchen table. The yew slotted perfectly in to the only spot missing in the diagram he’d made with various, specifically chosen materials.

“To keep that asshole off my lawn.”

Hashirama sighed. There could only be one ‘asshole’ Tobirama would refer to in that exact tone of voice. “What did Madara do this time?”

“Nothing yet! But he’ll try something soon!” The younger sounded much too gleeful, almost like he was very much anticipating an attempt of…something. “He always uses that stupid Mundane holiday as an excuse for tomfoolery. What is again? Hallows? Hallobean? Wallo-?”

“Halloween. It’s a harmless thing for the kids. You’d like it if you’d just participate one of these years; you like kids!”

“Hmph. What I don’t like is that deranged friend of yours creeping around my property every year doing Merlin knows what. For the love of ley lines, last year I caught him attempting a summoning in my backyard! And I recognized that circle, he was definitely calling something up from the lower levels!” His hands hovered over the pink and yellow crystals, charging them slowly. “And no. I refuse to celebrate anything the Mundanes do. If they get to forget that we exist then why should I have to pretend they matter? I have to hide my magic every other day of the year, I’m not going to reward them with candies on the one day they pretend to like it.”

The symbols in the center of his arrangement flashed once, twice, then darkened back to normal. Nodding with satisfaction, Tobirama let the glow fade from his hands and began to pick the materials from the center. Some of the sturdier woods could be reused and the thick gem in the center was as undamaged as the last dozen times he’d charged it. The more brittle woods, however, were useless now in their used up state. He flicked them out of the way to inspect his favorite lump of amber.

With a roll of his eyes Hashirama strode over to help him clean up. Things that could not be used again he removed for proper disposal, not wanting to risk Tobirama forgetting and attempting to use them again. Last time it had just been a small backlash and a slight purple tinge to his skin had been the only consequence. Who knows what might happen next time.

“You act so old and crotchety all the time,” he murmured. “You’re only three hundred years old. You don’t get to be this crotchety until you’re at least a millennium!”

“Go fall in a fire pit.”

“Brother! So mean!” Hashirama pouted to cover the smile threatening to come back. “Anyway, haven’t you ever talking to Madara about this weird Halloween thing? If he only tries to pull this kind of stuff on just this one day every year then you don’t think that maybe – oh I don’t know – there might be some kind of reason behind it?”

“Reason! When has Uchiha Madara ever listened to reason?” The crystals hummed politely as he gathered them up, fingers gently cradling them in a direct counterpoint to the way his boots stomped fitfully on his way to the front door. “He wouldn’t know reason if it stripped naked and danced in front of him.”

“I’m sure he’d like it better if you did that,” Hashirama muttered under his breath, careful not to be overheard.

Luckily, Tobirama was too busy crossing the yard to begin setting up his new wards.

Not that they did much good. Halloween being the very next day, it was only a little more than twenty-four hours later that saw Tobirama jolting off his couch when the alarms attached to his wards went off, jangling in his ear like discordant bells. The evening had been so pleasantly calm up until now. No Mundane children banging on his door begging for sweets. No nosy older brother trying to wrestle him in to being social. No stupid rival Izuna come to spit epithets in his face for however he’d managed to offend his fellow caster this time.

All that peace was ruined in an instant and there could only be one reason. Madara must be here. A scowl settled down over his features as he stormed towards the back of the house, slamming open the door and scanning his backyard with sharp eyes.

There. Just at the edge of his property, where the innocuous wooden enclosure became an enchanted living barricade, Madara was trying hard to muffle his shrieks while at the same time attempting to extract himself from the wooden jaws of Tobirama’s fence. His leg had been caught and no matter how much he swore and tugged, the enchanted planks simply clamped down harder. Tobirama wrinkled his nose as he watched.

“Uchiha!” he hollered. “Get the hell off my lawn!” Madara squawked indignantly, looking back over his shoulder with light panic on his face.

“I can’t get anywhere with this thing trying to eat my shoes! Call off your guard-beast!”

“Maybe if you weren’t a creep trying to break in to my property again then you wouldn’t have to worry about your shoes.” Not a drop of sympathy was to be found in his tone. Madara snarled.

“Well excuse me! You’re the one who won’t listen! If you’d just sit still for five damn minutes without being suspicious of every time I so much as breathe maybe I wouldn’t have to!” Giving vent to a huffy noise of frustration, Madara gathered magic to his fingertips and smacked the mouth trying to cut him off at the knees. The semi-sentient fence gave a yowl, its jaws stretching open just enough for Madara to jerk free and tumble backwards with a yelp.

Tobirama crossed his arms, still offering no help. The fence was imbued with a portion of his own consciousness so it knew not to actually hurt Madara, just rough him up a little bit to show his lack of appreciation for this yearly stupidity.

The two of them had been clashing for centuries, Tobirama’s water-based magic clashing spectacularly against Madara’s fire. Whoever said opposites attract was clearly only thinking of magnets. The only attraction he felt for the spiky haired half-wit caster stomping across his yard was the attraction to the idea of sealing him inside a pocket dimension just for some peace and quiet.

And he was sticking to that story.

“You infuriating damp rag!” While not particularly cutting, Madara’s insults never failed to be amusing.

“Don’t yell at me,” Tobirama bristled back. “I’m the one under home invasion right now!” His magic swirled up inside him, crackling beneath his skin and shifting his hair like some pale entropic beast. The darkness was lit by the subtle glow of him, shining with energy just looking for an outlet. Madara gawped openly for a few moments, either fascinated or fearful. Tobirama honestly wasn’t sure one which he would prefer.

“If you’d stop setting up traps I wouldn’t have to fight my way through them!”

His eyes couldn’t decide whether to narrow or not to roll. They ended up twitching and blowing out sparks that both men pretended not to notice. “The traps are meant to keep you out. As are the wards. And the barriers. And that hex I sent your way last Tuesday. Am I being too subtle?”

“Am I!?”

That gave him pause. “You’ve never been subtle a day in your life, what are you on about now?”

“You are the stupidest genius I have ever met!” Madara’s face twisted in to a rictus of indignation as he crossed the neatly cut grass to shove his face close to Tobirama’s. “It’s been years and you still don’t get it!”

“Get what!?”

“You don’t even remember do you?” Madara shoved an accusing finger against his nose and Tobirama swatted it away.

“Start making sense! What exactly am I supposed to be remembering?”

“We met on Halloween you tight-assed excuse for a magical mishap! Why do you think I show up every year on this particular day?”

Tobirama huffed, leaning back a bit and trying to pretend he was offended by Madara’s proximity rather than enticed by it. The prickly asshole had always been too pretty for his own good. Not that Tobirama was about to admit to having had any thoughts on the matter.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, feeling oddly as though he had missed something rather obvious.

“I have been trying to ask you out for years! But you always mess it up somehow! A few years ago you sent me to the Astral Realm while I was trying to invite you to dinner! The year before that I was bringing you flowers and you somehow set off a storm in my hair! You don’t even use lightning conjuration!” His hands were tracing patterns in the air, small tongue of flame dripped from his fingers as his magic overflowed with his temper.

“Last year you were summoning something from the lower levels in to my backyard! Explain that!”

“Do you know how long it took me to figure out how to summon a hellcat? How long it took to train a hellcat? Because you like cats! But nooo! Senju Tobirama can’t even take the time to see the effort I put in!” Madara’s face pushed up so close to his own that the tips of their noses brushed together, matching each other scowl for scowl. “Arrogant prat!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that’s what you were doing?” Tobirama demanded, face growing hotter and hotter by the moment. “And why is it so important you do it on Halloween? There’s an entire year in between you could ask me out! Three hundred and sixty four days that happen between each occurrence of Halloween.”

“IT’S ROMANTIC, OKAY?”

Madara’s outburst silenced them both for a long moment. They stared at each other, each equally wrapped up in the cloak of their righteous irritation. They had been at odds with each other since the day they met over two hundred years ago; hate at first sight as Touka liked to say. Except that Tobirama didn’t really hate the older man, never had.

Sure, he thought the other was an asshole. And sure, he found him annoying a great deal of the time. But he also found him attractive and engaging, was fascinated each time to witness the passion with which he cast his magic, found frustration in their continued inability to speak coherently around each other. He lost his tongue around Madara more often than anything else, making up for its absence with cutting barbs and instinctive standoffishness.

The idea that Madara was trying to ask him out on the day they met because it was romantic was certainly not on the list of reasons he had considered for their annual clash.

“You,” he declared in an ominous voice, “are the single most vexatious, exasperating, idiotic ass I have ever met.” Madara opened his mouth to offer what would obviously been a heated protest but Tobirama cut him off by leaning forward and removing the space between them for a first kiss that had been too long in coming. His magic swelled higher and higher, lifting both of their clothes in a spontaneous wind. “Unnecessarily complicated foolish plan!” He bit down on Madara’s lower lip. “Could have been doing this years ago!” Rough hands pulled him closer by the hips, pressing their bodies together. “You fucking asshole.”

“Fuck,” Madara whimpered against his lips, fingers digging in until there were sure to be bruises and shuddering as teeth sank in to his lips a second time.

The sentiment of ‘finally’ went unspoken by either, though they were both surely thinking it. Madara’s mouth abandoned Tobirama’s lips in favor of tracing down his throat and the younger man could feel the fire raging just under his partner’s skin, bursting to be let out and threatening to burn him to ashes.

He couldn’t wait.

#k the second half of this was written while drinking #i am still drinking #whoops #rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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b-does-the-write-thing · 7 years

Note

Will you write a follow up to the The Heart of Avonlea?

Well, this spiraled into a thing….Read The Heart of Avonlea first!

When stories end with happily ever after, it means that is not truly the end. After all, few happily ever afters end in death, so particular story must continue on even if the narrator does not. A certain part of their story may be closed, but there are numerous other stories waiting to unfold, and any narrator that says ‘and they lived happily ever after’ is one that is tired and wants to go home to their bed and worry about their own life and if they’ll ever get their happily ever after.

Which means the stories people love to hear about good triumphing over evil, love conquering all, and tales of morality are not over just because someone says they lived happily ever after. It just means that they didn’t die, they’re together, or they learned a very necessary lesson (like not to wash reds and whites together).

However, no one really wants to hear about the brave knight’s struggle to find a new purpose after the wicked dragon is slain, or how true love does not mean the happy couple never argue or that just because slow and steady won a race once does not mean that it did not work out for the tortoise when attempting to elude an ornery manticore.

–

In Avonlea, there lived a lady and a lord, most beloved and renowned across the countryside for their wise and fair rule. Lady Belle was as fair as her name, trained in combat, needlery, diplomacy and an avid reader, she could carry on a conversation with kings from across the waters or the smallest peasant child.

Her husband, Lord Rumplestiltskin, more often referred to as His Lordship, as it was much easier to pronounce, was a plain man with silver hair and crow feet around his eyes. However, there was a sense of coiled power in him, and no one was very comfortable in his presence except his wife. He was just and fair, though he had little interest in small talk and his stare could make even the most confident men shake in their boots.

The only man who sought out His Lordship was King Jefferson himself, who thoroughly enjoyed the once dark sorcerer’s acidic wit, and treasure trove of tales stretching back for generations. Avonlea and the Kingdom at large grew and prospered under HIs Lordship’s expertise and Lady Belle’s tempering hand. Far and wide, the tale of the Heart of Avonlea spread but this is not that tale.

This story is about small moments in true love and while not particularly fascinating as the story of how they came to fall in love, perhaps it will suffice.

The room was quiet, and they were alone after the long festivities of the day. Rumplestiltskin, previously the Dark One but now a man once more, was utterly still. Belle began to feel slightly silly, dressed in her virginal white and anticipation tingling up and down her bare arms like magic.

Despite the fire roaring in the bridal suite, shadows still hung heavy around them. Belle took a step towards her new husband, and his hands closed around her waist as he drew her closer still.

The scent of pine and snow lingered on his skin, as soft now as her own, and she watched his eyes as they skirted over her upturned face as if searching for something. “Is this…is this real?” he finally asked as his fingers began to play with the ribbons upon her chest. The reverent touch ghosted over her chest and Belle found she had quite forgotten how to breath.

“I’m as real as you,” Belle replied as he started to slowly unravel the bow to reveal her pale skin below. An overwhelming need to be closer to him filled Belle’s every sense and though she did not know the reasons why her body was behaving so wantonly, she planned to find out. “Husband,” Belle said, and her voice was oddly breathless though she stood still. “Take me to bed.”

He did not have to be told twice.

While he was not entirely sure what had started the fight, Rumplestiltskin did know it was not his fault. Across the royal ballroom, deep in conversation with the King’s consort, Victor, Belle pointedly ignored him.

Though he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his thoughts, that was not to be. The King materialized beside him with a rueful chuckle. My, my. What have you done now?”

“Nothing,” Rumplestiltskin grumbled. Belle laughed at something Victor had said, and Rumplestiltskin’s gut clenched unhappily. They had their spats, as everyone did, but she had barely spoken a word to him all evening.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Jefferson said as Belle took Victor’s arm to join the dancers. “Why, I haven’t seen her in such rare form since her suitors showed up at Avonlea all chomping at the bit.”

They had been out on their morning ride, as usual when staying at the Royal Palace, discussing small matters at home when Belle had gone cold and trotted away on her horse. At a loss for her behavior, which was growing increasingly testy these days, Rumplestiltskin had turned his own mount around believing it would be best for them to have some time apart. This, he now knew, had been a terrible idea.

“Is everything going well at home?” Jefferson pressed, utterly imperceptible to the Dark One glower that typically got Rumplestiltskin out of most uncomfortable conversations. The King gave Rumpelstiltskin a once over. “Nothing out of place?”

Rumplestiltskin’s fingers itched at his sides. “Jefferson, get your nose out of my business or I’ll remove it from your face.”

The King merely laughed, startling a group passing nearby. “Tell me, Rumple old boy, have you been minding your husbandly duties?” King or no king, Rumplestiltskin was going to kill him. Jefferson held up a hand. “Anything…different?”

“Of course not,” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “What would be-”

He fell silent as a few differences did occur to him. “I took over Lord Maurice’s council,” he said and it occurred to him he had never asked Belle how she had felt about that. The council took most of his time, from daily issues such as sheet disputes to the more pressing diplomatic relations with other kingdom trade relations.

“The one she’s been going to since she was a child?” Jefferson said with a low whistle. “The one she’s been training to take over her whole life?”

Now that he thought about it, every one of Belle’s odd cold spells had been when he had been lamenting about the annoyances of the court. Years of watching the world from on high gave him little patience for the squabbles and spats people brought to Avonlea, and he had been dismissive of everything, seeking solace by venting to his wife.

Rumplestiltskin eyes Jefferson. “Did she say something to you?” he demanded and righteous fury lent a chilling tone to his voice.

The King rolled his eyes. “Hardly. It doesn’t take a genius to see she doesn’t want to upset you or make you feel unneeded in Avonlea, but the Queen of the Southern Isles wrote me just last week that you threatened to build your own armada and seize her island if she didn’t bend to your trade demands.”

He had done that. It had seemed…prudent at the time.

“Luckily, I received another letter the next day that your lady wife had written her an apology, and invited her to Avonlea to discuss new trade regulations and enjoy the countryside.” The King’s eyes were sparkling. “I hate to tell you this, old boy, but you are rubbish at diplomacy.”

Rumplestiltskin ignored him, too busy trying to figure out how he was going to apologize to Belle, hand over the council seat he hadn’t wanted in the first place, and make it up to her. He suspected it was going to involve a fair amount of groveling.

“Rumple, we talked about this,” Belle sighed. “You have to go.”

Half hidden by the tower turret, her husband sulked from he sat overlooking the courtyard. “I have no interest in such tomfoolery.”

Belle moved to sit down beside him and he took her hand to help her. Once settled, she leaned her head upon his shoulder and let silence fall between them. “The faery ball is a time honored tradition,” she said after a spell. “I understand how you feel about them, but if we don’t go…we risk a schism between Avonlea and the faeries. You know what happens to kingdoms who upset them.”

“If they try to curse any child of mine, I’ll rip their wings off their backs one by one,” he grumbled but his voice lacked real conviction. After all, the faeries were the most powerful beings in all the lands these days, and there was no love lost between their ruler and the once upon a time Dark One.

“Do you miss it?”

“Being the Dark One?” he asked. “No. Yes. Sometimes.”

She nodded and his arm wrapped around her stomach, the slight swell of life already starting to show. “I would give it up a thousand times and thousands more for the opportunity to sit here and grow old with you,” he said into her hair. “But it was who I was for years….and sometimes it is as if I am missing part of myself.”

Belle did not quite understand, but she closed her eyes and let him hold her.

–

“Careful, careful!” Rumplestiltskin chided but his father-in-law did not seem to hear him. Lord Maurice gazed down at the small bundle in his arms. From the birthing bed, Belle, tired and pale, smiled up at the men in her life and Rumplestiltskin sank down to sit beside her.

He had not known fear as the Dark One. He had been all powerful, with magic at his back and call and something as trivial as childbirth would have barely registered with him much less scared him witless.

However, he was a man now, and in all his struggles to remember how to live as a mere man, nothing had been such a test as Belle’s face twisted into agony as she brought forth a life into this world. He would have sold his very soul for her safety, but she had held his hand tight in her own the entire time, refusing to let him so much as move from the stool beside the bed.

“What’s his name?” Lord Maurice asked as the babe, still red and shriveled and utterly beautiful, yawned. His mother had to cover her own mouth with an answering yawn, and it struck him how truly wonderful women were.

“Gideon,” Belle replied as she leaned her head against Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder. “HIs name is Gideon.”

Outside the bells began to toll to announce the lord heir had been born and the people of Avonlea rejoiced.

–

Belle had grown up beloved by both her parents, though as a lady of the great household, she had been seen to by governesses, tutored by scholars. As a very young child, her only real memories of her parents were at dinner and the hours following it. Her father had taught her to play chess in those early evening hours and her mother had read her stories.

So, now a mother with children of her own, and the Lady of Avonlea with responsibilities, Belle expected to follow the same upbringing. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, would not be separated from his children for a minute, much less the whole day.

Despite her heavy heart, the giggles from the nursery were infectious. At the sound of pure joy spreading out into the hallway, a single tear fell from her eye even as she smiled. Belle schooled her face into a mask before she entered the room.

The three inhabitants didn’t pause their game, with Alice on her father’s shoulders and Gideon prancing around them with a wooden sword.“Release the fair princess!” Gideon demanded as he swatted playfully at his father’s knees.

Rumplestiltskin growled in response in a fair imitation of a dragon. Alice squealed happily as her fingers tightened in her father’s shoulder length hair and Belle had to clear her throat for the party to realize she was there.

“Mama! Mama!” Gideon cried as he came racing over to her. “I’m rescuing Allie from the Dark Dragon!”

“That would be me,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he came to press a kiss to her cheek. “What news from the palace?”

Belle lifted Alice free from his shoulders and the toddler went happily to Belle’s arms, pressing up against the bump that would be her future sibling. “Jefferson sent word,” she said with a sigh. “There’s to be war.”

“Yahoo!” Gideon cried but his father put a hand on the young boy’s head, squashing his curls.

“War?” he repeated and his voice sounded hollow. “I thought negotiations were going well.”

Alice pulled Belle’s hair free from the elaborate coiffure under her diadem, and Belle’s grip tightened on her, prompting a squeal of displeasure. Rumplestiltskin plucked his daughter free. “Go see if the kitchens have any sweets, you two,” he said and at the magic words, both disappeared out the door their mother had just entered.

“They’ll never eat dinner,” Belle complained but her it was a half protest as her husband took her into his arms.

“Their presence will quell any rumors spreading,” Rumplestiltskin pointed out. “No one will have a chance to gossip with those two chatterboxes at their feet.”

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle sighed as she clutched his shirt front in her firsts. “Jefferson will call the banners…you’ll….you’ll have to go with the men.”

He shushed her as his arms tightened around her, but after ten years of marriage, Belle knew he was just hiding his face. She buried her own deeper into his chest, and let herself cry.

–

He had been a soldier once before.

Before him, the battle raged onwards. Banners fell, trumpets blew and the screams of the dying reached him even here on the hill. He had been a coward in a previous life, he had run from battle, thinking he had been right to avoid the nonsense of war.

Before him was death and destruction, and behind him was Avonlea. He had been gone for nearly two years now. That would have been a blink to him once before, but now it was an eternity. A letter was clutched in his hand, written in Belle’s own hand.

The letter told him Gideon grew wary of his studies, running off with local boys to spar in the woods, how Alice asked for him every night, but how the little girl was trying to be brave for her Papa, all about how his youngest, the one he had never met, Roseleen was teething and a holy terror and how Belle missed him so much she hurt all over.

She wrote him daily, though sometimes the letters did not arrive, or arrived late, or all together and opened by some spy who had hoped to learn something from the King’s right hand man. The letters had kept him steady, had kept him alive as he could trust that behind him, back home in Avonlea, his family was thriving even if it was without him.

In the distance, another cannon roared and his horse underneath him shifted nervously as the smell of blood drifted up to them on the wind. “Why, Rumplestiltskin,” came the voice by his ear. “I didn’t believe it when they told me, but it is you.”

He resisted the urge to flick the fairy away from him, but only just. “Reul,” he greeted. “What news from the other side?”

The fairy drifted into view before him. “Your King has reached an accord with the Red Queen, but it may fall before the night is over. There is distrust on both sides.”

“Which is why I called for you,” the Lord of Avonlea said with a heavy sigh. “In the past…it has been my experience that a truly neutral party can broker peace far more effectively.”

The leader of the faeries hummed. “You’re asking me for help?” At his nod, her face broke out into a smug smile. “Hmm. How interesting..”

“I do not expect it your assistance comes cheap, what will it be?”

Reul cocked her head at him. “Did you know your heirs are the only noble children who have not been blessed by the fairies?” Rumplestiltskin harrumphed and Reul’s smile grew sly. “I’ll broke your peace treaty on the condition all three of your children are given a fairy godparent.”

He had to bite down on his tongue to avoid ruining his only chance of returning home. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. A fairy godparent was a rarity, even the King’s two children did not have a fairy godparent His children would be safe, cared for and watched over for the rest of their life, but his own actions would be reported back to Reul at every turn. Her bargain would not hurt his children, but it meant an end to his own freedom.

But it meant his people and others might live.

“We have a deal,” he said and he hoped he did not live to regret it.

–

Lord Maurice had lived until his seventy-fifth year but in the night after his day of birth, he slipped away from this world in his sleep. Avonlea was draped in black for the old lord, and everywhere Belle looked, she saw signs of him.

He had been slipping for years, too old and feeble to do much beside sit by the fire or let his grandchildren read to him. His son-in-law spent his evenings playing chess with him, though neither party ever won or lost, they just moved the pieces around and around until the old lord fell asleep.

“Sweetheart,” Rumple said as he took her hand in his own. “It’s time.”

The people of Avonlea had come from far and wide to honor the man who had brought peace and prosperity to the realm, the father of the Treasure of Avonlea, and the man who had let his daughter marry her heart’s desire instead of the wealthiest suitor.

Belle swallowed her tears as she turned to her children, and Gideon, a man now in his own right, held Rosie in his arms as Alice stood trembling beside him, already a beauty at fourteen. At their shoulders, their respective fairy godparents hovered in respect, though Reul had been smart enough to stay away.

Roderick, Gideon’s fairy godparent, grew to true size, and bowed loud. “My lady,” he said and though he was nearly two hundred years old, he looked no older than Gideon. “The faeries send their condolences for the loss of such a great man.”

Belle touched his face,and nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. Roderick stepped backwards to stand besides Gideon, and it didn’t escape her when their hands clasped together. Rosie, only four, did not not understand what was going on, and her fairy companion, Tink, was blowing raspberries at her to make her giggle while Alice’s fairy, Nova, was sniffling openly while Alice tried her best to stem her own tears.

With everyone’s temper slightly frayed by grief and exhaustion, Belle’s own eyes began to fill up with tears again in sympathy with Nova’s own, which wouldn’t do at all for the procession to the mausoleum. She tried to bite back the tears but as always her husband noticed and tried to take charge of the situation. “Nova, kindly desist that noise before the procession starts,” Rumplestiltskin attempted and the little fairy squawked, still terrified of the once Dark One, and burst into even noisier tears.

“Oh, darling Nova,” Alice said as she scooped the fairy out of the air beside her. “Shush now, Papa, didn’t mean anything by it.” Alice looked up at her mother with her father’s eyes and tried to smile. “Oh, Mama, Grandpapa would not want us to be so sad…but I can’t help it.”

Tink, who to be fair was kind of an odd fairy in her own right, took this opportunity to play sneeze, shooting backwards out a open window to Rosie’s delight. The toddler began to clap happily and shriek in delight. Gideon and Roderick’s serious faces both cracked into answering grins as Rosie and Alice and Nova joined in, almost unsure of themselves but soon caught up in the toddler’s infectious delight.

Rumplestiltskin put his arm around her, and though he did not laugh, his eyes were soft as he watched his children’s find a moment of joy in the face of grief . Belle leaned her head against his shoulder, and closed her eyes in a small prayer for her father who in his kindness and in his wisdom, had allowed her this life, this love, and this moment.

–

“Papa,” sighed his eldest son and heir to Avonlea, “be reasonable.”

There were five people in the world who would dare say that to His Lordship, and four of them were in the room. HIs wife, perpetuator number one, put her hand on Rumplestiltskin’s arm as she expertly maneuvered herself between the two of them. There was always something utterly calming about her bright blue eyes, even if they were now lined with crows feet and her hair touched with silver at the temples.

It was only his wife’s calm demeanor that stopped him from losing his temper entirely. “Reasonable?” he demanded. “You want me to be reasonable about my-my son getting married on a whim in Agrabah of all places!”

“Not that we don’t love Roderick,” Belle hastened to add as the fairy in question colored under all this unwanted attention. Roderick had always been shy around Rumplestiltskin, no doubt cowed by the tales he had had known all his life. When he had been assigned to Gideon, no one had expected the two to grow close as thieves, encouraging each other to new adventures and unavoidably falling in love. “It’s just…we would have liked to be there.”

Rumplestiltskin crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to grumble under his breath. His son had a similar expression on his face, though Gideon’s lips were a thin white line while his father preferred to snarl.

“Both of you are sulking,” Alice pointed out. “Gideon, I understand you were swept up in the moment, and Roderick, no one is blaming you at all. but Papa has a point. There’s certain things expected of a heir to Avonlea and running away to get married in secret is not one of them.”

Gideon raked a hand through his hair. “Which is why I told you all I don’t want the lordship,” he repeated and this started the whole argument up again. Rosie, nearly ten now, watched everything with her wide blue eyes, the only one of the three to get her mother’s eyes though she had her father’s crooked teeth to match. Quiet as always, her face was calm despite the heated voices.

“Enough,” Belle finally declared as she stood from her seat. “Gideon, if you truly do not want the lordship, and would prefer a life exploring the world with Roderick, then you have our blessing.” She shot Rumpelstiltskin a pointed look. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Yes,” he bit out and Gideon softened.

“Papa,” he said as he came to stand beside his chair. “I love you, I truly do, but I’m not happy here. This isn’t where I belong. You…you understand that, don’t you?”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed his words, knowing he’d regret them if he spoke in wounded anger now. “Think of your sisters,” he said softly, so only Gideon would hear. “If you step down as heir, it falls to Alice.”

Gideon looked to his younger sister with pride. “Alice is more of a leader than I have ever been,” he replied. “She will make a wonderful Lady of Avonlea.”

Alice came up to take Roderick’s other hand in her own and put on a brave smile. “Really, Papa, I don’t mind,” she assured him as the burden of being the heir of Avonlea now fell upon her delicate shoulders. Belle reached out to take his hand in her own, and they shared a private look.

“If…if this is what you want…both of you, then so be it. I…I just want you to be happy,” Rumpelstinkin finally said, “but…but I’ll miss you son.”

Gideon made a choked noise before falling upon his father in a hug. A moment later, Belle wrapped her arms around her two boys, before Alice and Rosie joined in as well. As Rumplestiltskin held his family in his arms, he tried to remember what life had been like before them, and found he could not.

–

Across the crowded ballroom, the heir of Avonlea was dancing cheek to cheek with the crown prince, both completely out of sync with the music playing and the others dancing around them as they swayed on the dancefloor. “My son wishes to marry your daughter,” Jefferson announced to no one’s surprise.

Belle sat beside her old friend, her joints throbbing painfully with the coming of the rain. Her husband had retired to be already, and Rosie was off somewhere, no doubt getting in trouble. “They have our blessing,” Belle replied as she watched the two lost in their own world. “Though Rosie’s been dreading this since Jakon came to Avonlea last fall.”

“Not many youngest children inherit their parents titles,” Jefferson said with a shrug. “She’s four and ten now, is she not?”

“Nearly,” Belle said with a nod. Her youngest had shorn all her hair off when Alice had first begun to show interest in her childhood friend, Prince Jakon. Then, Rosie had taken to wearing baggy stable boy clothes and spending her time outside the castle walls. “Alice took after me,” Belle said as her middle child glowed bright with happiness.

Jefferson patted her hand. “She would have made a lovely lady of Avonlea, but she’ll make a remarkable Queen.”

“Rumple will be beside himself,” Belle laughed and Jefferson joined in. “At least this time, he’ll get his wedding.”

“If he doesn’t try and get rid of Jakon first,” Jefferson teased.

“Always a possibility,” Belle replied but her smile was gentle. “No, he’d never do anything to harm Alice even if it does mean his little girl is all grown up.”

A tinkling laugh between them signaled Alice’s godmother had appeared and sure enough, Nova was clapping her hands in delight at the scene below them. “Oh, how wonderful!” she sighed. “She must have finally told him how she feels!”

Jefferson caught Belle’s eyes over the fairy and rolled his eyes. Belle had to bite down on her laughter. “Nova, dear,” she said. “Is Tink off with Rosie?”

“Oh, those two,” Nova said with a bristle. “They tried to lock me in a teapot earlier, so no, I have no idea what they’re up to at the moment.”

In the distance, the music stopped and the crowd turned to clap in approval as the crown prince deposited a chaste kiss to his bride to be and in the moonlight outside, the youngest child of Belle and Rumplestiltskin listened in rapt attention to her fairy godmother as Tink taught her a simple spell.

–

There was dead silence in the room.

“What is the meaning of this?” Rumplestiltskin demanded in a voice like ice. Belle had her hands clasped to her mouth as they stared at their youngest child, heir of Avonlea, who had just been caught red handed.

“Meaning of what?” Rosaleen asked as if there was not a giant pumpkin behind her where her bed had once been. Her blue eyes were guileless as she held her father’s eyes. Of all the children, Rosaleen had inherited her mother’s stubbornness and her father’s refusal to bend, which was why they were here now in this fine mess.

“It’s my fault,” Tink croaked from where she hid under Rosaleen’s hair. “Rosie asked me to teach her a few spells…and I didn’t see the harm-”

“DIdn’t see the harm?” he repeated and Tink grew even smaller.

“Rosie,” Belle pleaded. “You know the risks…”

Rosaleen titled her chin up in defiance. “I have magic in my blood. Why not use it?”

“Because it’s not safe!”

“Says who?”

“Says your father!” he thundered back. He took a step forward, but Rosaleen did not so much as flinch. She marched up to him, eyes blazing and ready to battle when Belle slipped between them.

“Rosaleen,” his wife said in a firm voice. “Change your bed back this minute or sleep in the pumpkin, but you are not to leave these quarters.”

Rosie opened her mouth to argue, but Tink fell around to hold her lips forcibly shut. “Will do, milady,” Tink said with a worried look up at Rumplestiltskin.

“I trust you to ensure my will is followed,” Belle said in a pointed voice to Tink, whose wings quivered in embarrassment. With a small nod, the fairy agreed and Rosaleen bristled before marching off to where the pumpkin was still growing. “And you,” Belle said with a jab at his chest. “Outside. Now.”

He let her drag him out into the hallway and when they were safely down the hall, she spun around on her heel and pointed a finger straight at his nose. “You two are impossible! Peas in a pod!”

He opened his mouth to argue that his youngest was more like her than she thought but his wife did not give him the opportunity. “Gideon is off gallivanting the heavens knows where, Alice is expecting the heir to the kingdom proper, and our youngest daughter is practicing magic in her bedroom.” HIs wife’s jaw trembled as she fought back tears and his heart broke to look at her.

“Can’t say our family is boring,” he said. She swatted at him, but moved into his embrace. “Now, now, sweetheart,” he sighed as he kissed the crown of her head. “I overreacted…but…magic…”

“She’s your daughter,” Belle sniffled. “I’m not surprised one of them took it up.”

“Gideon married a fairy,” he snorted and Belle giggled into his chest. “Though, for a fairy, Roderick isn’t that bad.”

Belle pulled her head up to smile at him and he kissed her, long and deep. The years had been good to them, and under the lines and the white hair and the full cheeks, his wife still was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His own body was wrinkled and heavy, white and grey grizzled hair past his shoulders and aches in places he didn’t even know he had, but he would not have traded a moment of his life for the internal life he had once enjoyed.

‘We’ll have to get her a proper teacher,” he sighed. Tink may have helped raise Rosaleen but the fairy was a prankster at heart with a stubborn attitude that no doubt only enhanced Rosie’s own natural bullheadedness.

“The Lady of Avonlea a witch,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “Well, we won’t have to worry about being inundated with suitors again, my love.”

Well, that was one good thing, he supposed.

–

“Gideon,” Belle said as she stood to greet her son. He hurried into the room to clasp his mother in an embrace before turning towards the bed. Belle pushed his long hair out of his face, marveling at the man he had become as Roderick came in quietly behind him.

“Is he…” Gideon managed to ask and Belle shook her head.

“Just sleeping for now,” she said as Gideon joined her at Rumplestiltskin’s bedside. Her husband’s face was calm and smooth, there was no pain or worry there, but an acceptance. “He’s been waiting for you,” she said and Gideon’s face twisted in grief as he nodded in understanding.

Rosaleen stood in the corner, arms wrapped around herself, and quiet as the grave. Her blue eyes were shiny but not a single tear had dared fall. Gideon held his hand out and the young woman barrelled into him, burying her face into his chest. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured as Roderick put his hand on his husband’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Alice arrived in the doorway, her youngest strapped to her chest already fast asleep. “I heard you two had arrived,” she said as she came into the room to press a kiss to Roderick’s cheek. Rosaleen tried to wipe the tears away as two small children ran into the room, both halting at their grandmother’s expression.

“Grandmama?” the twins asked revrently. “Is Grandpapa really going to leave?”

“Yes,” came the croaking response from the bed. “But not before I get my kisses, little ones.”

Shy around the prone figure, the two princesses moved to deposit gentle busses upon his cheeks before withdrawing to their mother’s skits. The prince slept on, his bald head sticking out from Alice’s arms as she came to press a kiss to her father’s face. “Oh, Papa,” the Queen said. “Jefferson will be so cross you went first.”

Shocked, Rumplestiltskin laughed and Belle took his hand in her own. She had accepted this day was coming, but now that it was here, she wanted it to last forever. Her husband turned his head to the side to smile at her. “No tears,” he whispered as his hand moved to hold her face. “You promised.”

Belle inhaled deeply and Gideon, bless him, stepped to his father’s other side and sank down to his knees. Their eldest had inherited his grandfather’s height, and he towered over everyone in the room. “Papa,” he greeted. “I’m here.”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. “I knew you would be, son,” he said and his other hand gripped Gideon’s tightly. “My boy,” he managed before a spasm of pain darted through him.

Gideon’s face cracked and Rosaleen hurried into the breach. With a wave of her hand, the pain washed away from Rumplestiltskin’s face. “Magic comes with a price,” he murmured to his youngest child. “Remember that.”

“I’ll pay the price,” Rosaleen assured him as she smiled down at him. “Anything for you, Papa.”

Rumpelstiltskin looked up at his three children and his three grandchildren and sighed in content. “It’s time,” he said and turned towards Belle. “My love?”

The children wiped the tears from their faces, and with one last kiss goodbye, they all filtered through the door. Rosaleen was the last, and with a touch to her mother’s shoulders, she whispered a small spell of grace.

When the door closed behind the now Lady of Avonlea, Belle kicked off her slippers and crawled into the large bed she had shared with her husband these past forty odd years. It had been the bed she had given birth to thrice, and now it would be the bed in which she would say goodbye to her true love.

She laid her head upon his chest, and his heart beat faintly under her cheek. His hand came up to stroke her hair, streaked with white and silver. “i’ll see you soon,” Belle promised him. She had no need to memorize the feeling of him, or his scent, she had committed it to memory long ago.

“Not too soon,” he sighed . “They need you still.”

Belle did not respond but her arms tightened on his frail frame. “I wish you wouldn’t go without me,” she whispered.

“I wish I could stay with you forever and a day,” he responded. “But death has waited for me long enough. It’s time.”

Belle tilted her head up to kiss him, once more, thinking of their years together and their joys and struggles, over their children and their children, and of Avonlea and its neighboring lands. If someone had told her as a young woman of nine and ten that her life would bring her here to this moment, she would have not believed them. And yet it was not so much a story as a life well lived.

She settled back down into his arms and they held each other tight. “Do you remember how we met?” Belle asked in the silence and his chuckle was so low she thought she may have imaged int.

“I do but tell it again,” he whispered and so, she did.

In the morning, the bells would toll, but they had one last evening in each other’s arms, and that plus the lifetime together, was enough.

#b does the write thing #rumbelle fic

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