#tagging is exhausting

[asphodelevans]

And what if I said Draco, Blaise and Ron should have a threesome (Harry can watch)

[cadotoast]

Chapter 2- The Summons

Minors DNI please. 4.7k word length

Your house can't really be called anything more than a cottage, really. But it is home to you, your father, and your brother on the occasions when he is not in the Knights' quarters in the palace. It is small, drafty, and in desperate need of repairs, but it is home. It is safety. It is sanctuary.

A week and three days after the announcement at the festival, that sanctuary is shattered.

You are in the middle of sharing a breakfast with your father when the knock at the door comes. Seeing your pale expression, he gets to his feet and answers the door for you. You hear him greet whoever is delivering the message, confirming your residence. Your father, usually so kind and chatty, is rather brusque with the messenger, and does not linger in the doorway before closing the door in the man's face.

"Was it from the palace?" You ask needlessly, stirring your porridge with a wooden spoon.

"It is," Your father says, voice soft. "Do you want to read it? Or shall I?"

You hold your hand out for the sealed letter, and take it from his hand. You rip the top of the envelope open, not bothering with breaking the wax seal that bears the signet of Prince Aldous.

"Dear so-and-so," you start with a dreary, sarcastic sigh. "This is a formal summons to the palace to participate in the presentation of yourself as a candidate for courtship to His Royal Highness Aldous Godfrey. You are required to present yourself at the palace in a weeks's time. Any questions should be directed to the Royal Steward." You set the parchment down, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat.

"I don't want to do this," You whisper to the empty room. "I don't have any desire to be royal." 

Your father comes around the table, settling in the chair next to you in order to pull you into a tight embrace. You press your face into his shoulder, leaning into his embrace as you accept the reality that you're going to have to go to the palace.

"Maybe if I'm lucky I'll spill wine on him or something and get booted immediately," You mutter into the fabric of your father's tunic.

He runs his hand over your hair and down your back in a soothing manner. "Whatever happens, whichever the results, I will always be proud of you, my darling daughter. And I have no doubts that you will be safe at the palace, under Jonas' watchful eye."

That thought has occured to you. A dim flicker of hope in what seems like a sea of doom. "He won't let anything happen. Maybe I can bribe him to kidnap me," You giggle then, leaning back once more. Your father gives you a tight-lipped smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle in that familiar, soothing way.

"Well you have a week to get yourself together. Either your Sunday Best, or your washing clothes, which will it be?"

---

"Your summons, my lady?" The guard at the gate peers down at you, an eyebrow raised. He's evidently tired of this particular assignment, and you can't particularly blame him. You hand him the envelope with the letter inside, watching as he removes the summons, skimming over the contents and examining the seal.

"Thank you," the guard says, handing you the letter back. "Continue through that door there, and you will wait in the parlor room with the other ladies being presented today." You give him a nod before gathering your bag into your hands once more and heading for the door that leads into the castle proper.

The morning is bright, sunlight and birdsong filling the courtyard with warmth and beauty. You're loathe to leave it for the uncertainty that is within the castle walls, but alas, with more women arriving behind you, and guards all around keeping a watchful eye, you can't exactly make a grand escape, at least not without making a scene.

Despite your reluctance to participate in this whole debacle, you've resigned yourself to the fact that, if you do indeed try to win the Prince's hand, your father may yet be able to retire in peace and comfort. As the wedded of the heir to the throne, you, and by extension your family, would never be without.

The parlor you enter is well-lit and filled with a soothing breeze. The windows that are usually shuttered against the elements are open now, letting in the smells and sounds of summer. A couple dozen young ladies lounge on the many chairs, cushions, and couches, twittering away like a flock of sparrows. You find yourself a plush cushion to settle on, situated underneath one of the many windows, and pull out a bit of mending from your bag.

As you begin a row of careful stitches on a torn stocking, you let your eyes roam the room. Aside from the young ladies, there are a handful of guards in the room, posted to keep the peace, and to escort the ladies to their audience with the Prince. Every few minutes or so, a harried-looking page will run in, announce the names of several of the women, and then dash away once more.

The ladies themselves are a rainbow of colors, though you cant help but notice that some shine brighter than others. The young noblewomen have come from their estates with bustles and pastels and ropes of pearls. Some even cary boxes and bags of what you can only assume are gifts, though perhaps the better term would be "bribe". The young nobles flounce around and laugh and chat, casting glances over their shoulders at other women in the room, particularly the commoners such as yourself. The truth of the matter is that your Sunday Best will never equate to even the worst of the gowns that those with noble blood boast of.

"Would you care for some refreshment?" A voice from somewhere above you brings you back to the present. You glance up from your needlework, gazing up into the fair face of one of the palace servants. Her plain but practical dress suits her nicely, and she wear a matronly look about her, with her greying hair tucked into a bonnet. "There is wine, cider, ale, and water."

"Some water would be lovely, thank you." You say to the servant with a smile. She gives you one in return, and then moves away to a door that you assume leads to where the refreshments are being stored. In a matter of minutes, you have a cup of cool water in your hands from which to sip from. Then the matron is on her way to the next lady to inquire the same of her.

You're not certain how long you have been sitting on your cushion, basking in the warm sunlight and darning your socks, before a ripple of excitement heralds the return of the pageboy. You lift your gaze to watch the page as he unrolls a slip of parchment, from which he reads several names. You watch those who approach the door when their names are called, noting their mannerisms. All but one of this group seem excited to get their moment with the Prince.

Once they are lead away, the room settles back into its previous state of waiting, and you return once more to the mending in your hands. You count the stitches to keep yourself entertained as the minutes crawl by, humming tunelessly to yourself.

"Is this seat taken?" A familiar voice asks. You glance up to smile at Jenny, gesturing to the cushion beside you.  She fluffs her skirts out and settles next to you, bumping your shoulder with hers as she giggles a little.

"It's a good thing you and I got picked for the same day for our summonings," You remark. "I don't know hardly anyone else in here."

"Oh tosh," Jenny said, rolling her eyes. "There are at least three girls here that we attended early schooling with." She scans the crowd. "There's Elisa Redmont, Genevieve Windmyre, and whats-her-name over there."

You roll your eyes and chuckle, rolling your needle between your fingers. "I wouldn't say I know them," you reply in kind. "We meet occasionally on market days, but I don't actually speak with them, or go out of my way to spend time with them." Patting Jenny's arm, you continue. "That's what I have you for. Who  else do I need?"

"You flatterer," Jenny grins, leaning gracefully against the wall behind her. You notice the book in her hands, one you'd given her a few years' past for a birthday present. Fondness makes your chest tight as you smile at your friend, before settling your back once more against the stone wall.

The time does go by faster with a friend in tow, and before you know it, the pageboy is back once more with a new set of names. "Jennifer Atkins, Wren Rivers, Carmen Pruitt..." And there, at the end of the list of names, you hear your own. You and Jenny share a look before getting to your feet and move to the door along with the others that have been called.

"I'm sure ready for this to be over with," Jenny murmurs in your ear, a note of nervousness tinging her words now. You nod in agreement, clutching the bag at your side.

As you and the others walk down the stone corridors of the castle, you can't help but admire the beauty in the architecture. High ceilings with arching supports, brass candelabras bearing flickering candles, and braziers glowing with fire. In certain places of the castle are well-worn, but ornate rugs to cover the wooden slats, and in other places, delicate but impractical tables stand, boasting beautiful vases of summer wildflowers.

"My Da says that my great-great Grandda was a mason for this castle," jenny murmurs to you, looking at a stone blocks that line the walls. "Can you imagine?"

You shake your head in mute wonder, eyes wide and taking in all the sights.

"You'd think they'd never been inside a castle, the way they stare," Your ears pique up at the sound of a scornful tone. Facing your attention forward, you see three of the young women in the group huddled together and looking over their shoulders at you and Jenny. You can hear their mocking giggles, and grit your teeth as an angry, embarrassed flush fills your cheeks.

"Ignore them," Jenny murmurs to you, though her face is red and her eyebrows furrow as well. "They are just frustrated that they don't get a leg-up by being noble. Normally, the Prince would never even consider a commoner, and here they are, having to associate with us as they vie for position."

Taking your friend's words to heart, you inhale deeply and slowly before letting the air whoosh from your lungs in a steady stream. More focused and centered now, you lift your chin high, continuing to admire the castle you walk through.

Before long, you're brought before an ornate wooden door, heavy and decorated with some sort of mosaic made of precious and semi-precious stones. 

"You will wait here until your name is called," One of the soldiers says. "When your audience with the Prince is over, you will be escorted out to the courtyard from where you entered, and you will be free to return to your respective dwellings." The soldier looks around at the group of women in front of him. "Any questions?" When there are none, he gives a brusque nod, and then raps his knuckles on the heavy wooden door.

The herald looks a little winded, truth be told, his balding white hair all askew. He gives the group of girls, yourself included a slightly weary glance, before unrolling the scroll of parchment he has in his hands. "Let's start with Wren Rivers, shall we?"

One by one, the girls are called. Jenny is in the middle of the pack, and after she is  escorted to the throne room, time seems to drag on infinitely longer.  You lean with your back against the cool stone wall, peering up at a high and shuttered window that lets in a small crack of sunlight. The otherwise dim entryway is lit by torches, their flames flickering and dancing to some song unknown to you.

Soon enough, you are alone once more, save for the guards who remain with you. In an attempt to steady your nervous fidgeting, you clasp your hands behind you, humming tunelessly as you begin to count flagstones. One... Two... Three... Four...

"You look familiar, my lady." You glance up from your counting towards one of the guards, who is looking at you with a queer expression. "Have you been around the palace before?"

You shake your head, rocking back on your slippered heels a little, and then forward onto your toes. "No, I can't say that I have. My brother, however, is a Knight and guard for the castle here. That might be why I seem familiar."

The guard grunts, giving you a once-over, before dropping the topic and returning to his watch. You return to your counting, now timing your breaths with the even and odd counts.

Somewhere around three hundred, the heavy door opens, and the herald says your name. Despite his tired expression, his eyes are kind, and he gives you a soft smile to match your nervous one. "Are you ready?" 

The nod you give is a little shaky, but you manage it nonetheless. The herald enters the room and announces you as you step through into the hall beyond. 

The high ceilings continue here, the rafters arching above your head. Torches in brackets along the wall remain unlit at this time, allowing for natural light to enter the room from the lofted windows. The ground underfoot is smooth flagstone, though as you raise your gaze to the end of the room where the dais and the throne sits, you notice a small recess into the floor, like a remarkably shallow amphitheater, and a beautiful mosaic which decorates the floor in front of the throne.

The king's throne has been replaced with a smaller, but no less elegant one. The Crown Prince is settled in the throne, draped in fine silk and velvet, and with a silver wine goblet in his hand. Behind him stand his parents, and to the sides of the dais is the full guard of the King's Men. The urge to twitch when you notice familiar faces in the audience rises up, a flash flood of heat in your face.

As it is, you brave the walk down to the mosaicked floor, and dip into a curtsy as low and as graceful as you can manage.

"Rise," Prince Aldous says, and you do so, setting your cloth bag behind you so as to not be a distraction. A moment of silence drags on as you wait for the Prince to finish looking you over. "You look familiar, My Lady," he finally says, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. "Have we met?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure, your highness." You clasp your hands in front of you, biting the inside of your cheek to remind yourself not to roll your eyes at the increasingly annoying reminder how much you look like Jonas. "But my brother is a knight of the realm, it's possible that you are thinking of him." Out of the corner of your eye, You see Ser MacTavish grin, apparently recalling the conversation you'd had with him and his comrades at the festival.

"And your brother is...?" The prince's gaze is intense, boring into you.

"Ser Jonas, of the same surname as I," Recognition flares in the Prince's eyes, and you watch for a queer moment as a handful fo emotions flits across his face, before his expression melts into a smooth mask once more.

"I see," He nods slowly. "You and he share a striking resemblance," Another heartbeat of silence, and Prince Aldous Adjusts his seat, leaning forward a little more as he combs his pale hair off of his forehead. "Tell me about yourself, My lady."

You hesitate, gnawing on your lip slightly. Searching for the right words, your gaze flicks over the others in the room. The King and Queen watch you with rapt attention, and you don't dare hold their gazes for long, before shifting to glance at the knights. Ser Simon in his black armor, Ser Mactavish with his kilt. Sers John and Kyle have their heads tilted towards each other slightly, as if in the middle of conversation, their gazes on you. You feel the older's dark blue eyes on you more intently than most. 

"I am the lowborn second child of a blacksmith." You finally say, rocking from your toes to your heels. "My mother passed away a few years ago in the Summer Sickness, Leaving just my father, my brother and I. My brother, as I mentioned, is a knight serving in your Highness's service.

"My father is aging, and recently had to retire due to an injury. The Summer Sickness also left him much weaker than he used to be, his heart aches for my mother, I feel.

"I bake for a local tavern to earn some coin, and serve in the evenings to travelers at some local inns. It gets us by, between my income and my brother's, we are luckier than most to benefit from the generosity of our peers and superiors.

"I know my letters and my numbers; I used to assist my father in keeping record of his expenses. I enjoy reading when I can afford the time. I can sew and mend, and I am learning knitting from a friend. I can cook and maintain a household, and with the help of Jonas, I am a decent seat on a horse."

"Can you wield any weapon?" Prince Aldous asks, brows furrowed. 

"Not well, Your Highness," Your hands run along the sleeves of your forearms. "My brother has made sure that I have some small skill in knife-work, and he bids me bring one with me when I leave the cottage unattended. Though today I lave left it at home, as you can see." The spot at your waist where the small knife in its worn leather sheathe would normally hang from your belt is indeed vacant.

"As a child I had some experience with the sling, but that would be the extent of my weapons knowledge."

"Do you play any instruments? Perform any art?"

You think of the lute that your mother used to play. "Unfortunately I have not had the pleasure of being able to learn the finer arts. Especially since mother died." You trace the line of your lips with a fingertip. "My family isn't as poor as others... but it is hard to justify luxuries such as instrument or dance lessons when we are still struggling to get by." 

Prince Aldous stares at you for a long moment before getting to his feet, and steps down from the dais. You watch with wide eyes as he walks towards you with a swaggering charm. Those remaining on the dais, as if surprised at the Prince's movements, murmur amongst one another. Ser John steps down as well, shadowing whom you now assume to be his protective charge.

The Prince's movements are smooth, like the strides of a dancer, or mabey like one of the great mountain cats that stalk the outer shanties of the town. As he draws even with you, you have to tilt your head up to remain meeting his gaze; he's quite a bit taller than you. You fight the urge to draw back a step as the prince bends his head down towards you, close enough that his breath fans your face as he takes one of your hands into his own. They are warmer than you thought they'd be.

"Have you had any lovers before me, my Lady?" His voice is pitched low enough that only you, and maybe the guard standing at his shoulder, can hear. All the same, your cheeks flame red, and your ears burn in indignation. "Do you currently have a lover? Are you here unwillingly?"

"I don't see how my lovers, past or present, is your business, Your Highness," You mirror his lowered tone, but there is a bite of frost to your words. You watch as Aldous' spine snaps straight, his face tilted down with an unreadable expression. Oh Damn, I've done it now. You press your lips into a thin line, but make no move to remove your hand from his.

"Because," The words are drawn out, as if he is speaking with a child, "I need to know if you will be loyal to me, or if there is a risk of unfaithfulness with someone who might be my competition for your beauty." One of his thumbs, long and thin, strokes the back of your hand with a feather's touch. "I also need to ensure that whomever I chose will not give me bastard heirs, female or male."

"There is no one that you need to be concerned of," You say with measured tone, despite your irritation, "The only men in my life are my brother and father."

Prince Aldous considers you for a few more moments, before pulling back and spinning on his heel, leaving you for the dais once more. He nearly shoulder-checks the Captain, who takes a step back to let him pass. Ser John turns his gaze towards you for an instant, his gaze scrutinizing. The appraisal takes only a second, and then he is stepping back up into the dais to his previous station.

"That is all the questions I have for you, my Lady. You are dismissed."

You don't linger to ponder the brusqueness of the dismissal, nor the queer feeling settling in your gutt. With another curtsy, you gather your bag into your hands and allow one of the guards to escort you from the throne room.

Back out in the courtyard, you blink at the bright sunlight, shading your eyes as you peer up into the sky. It is clear and breezy, a fair day. A direct contrast to the storm brewing in your own thoughts.

"How did it go?" Jenny steps out from a shady spot beneath a sprawling willow. You approach her, sighing through your nose. 

"It went," 

Jenny chuckles at your brevity, reaching out to catch the crook of your elbow. She tows you along beside her as she makes her way across the courtyard, back to the main road that leads into town. "Nothing of interest to note? I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

"He recognized my resemblance to Jonas."

"Everyone does. Are you sure you two aren't twins?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Anyways, he asked about the things I could do, and I guess about the things I can't do. He asked about if I had any lovers, too."

"He did?" Jenny's eyebrows raise. "That's a rather intimate question."

"If you think so, then you will love how he asked me!"

Before long, the grey clouds are blown away from Jenny's gushing and laughing as you dramatize your experience, and as you both descend into the village, you let your cares tumble away for a little while, like pebbles in the bottom of a stream.

---

The phases of the moon pass, and you almost forget the looming doom that hangs over your head. Each day, Prince Aldous meets more and more young women of the kingdom, some of which will be trying their very best to impress him. You're grateful for the number of women, frankly, and the length of the process. "The more women there are to choose from, the less likely I'll be one of them," You tell your father over supper one evening, nearly a full moon having passed since your audience.

"Aye, that may be true," Your father murmurs, a twinkle in his eye. "However, he would be a fool not to pick the most beautiful young woman his kingdom has to offer."

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get rid of me!" You exclaim, the grin on your face betraying the fake outrage in your voice. You father laughs deeply, his deep rumble dissolving into a slough of hacking coughs. 

As quickly as it came, the good mood is gone. You get to your feet and move to your father's shoulder. "That's sounding worse, Da," You murmur, fingers combing through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair.

"I'll live," You father rasps, clearing his throat once more. "I've been through worse, and it's yet to kill me."

Despite his assurances, you continue to worry, even as your father readies for bed. You make sure that he is settled comfortably in the one bed in the house, before you yourself retire to your pallet situated by the dying embers in the hearth. The night is sleepless, and when the sun begins to rise, and the roosters crow, you're scrubbing your face with cold water, sighing and the warped image of your face in the cracked silver mirror that hangs over the washbasin. Plum-colored smudges adorn your under eyes, and you have no face powder with which to cover them as the rich girls do. 

Muttering curses under your breath, you search for your basket, and the coin purse that resides next to it. "I'm going to town, Da," You call as you exit the cottage. "I'll be back in a while." You hear a muted affirmation from your father in the back room, and take it as your cue to leave.

Your skirts wind around your legs as the breeze blows past, bringing with it the fresh smells of produce from the market. Your pace picks up almost of its own accord, your mouth watering at the thought of a leg of lamb for dinner, maybe a fresh piece of fruit. Townspeople already flood the main road leading up to the village square, and you take care to keep your basket and purse close by.

You are neck-deep into negotiations with the butcher when you hear it: the sound of a royal herald. Your stomach does an acrobatics routine as you hastily agree on a sum with the butcher, gathering the wrapped meat in your basket before heading for the center of town. 

It's not hard to locate the herald. He is standing on a stack of boxes, to be above the gathered crowd. His garb is nicer than the average commoner, a sign of his station. Standing at the edge of the crowd, you've situated yourself under an awning for the shade, but you can hear the herald clear as day as he begins to speak.

"People of the kingdom, hear the words of your King! The Summons have been finished, and the selection has been made. Of all the women in the kingdom, ten will be brought to the palace to win the Prince's hand. These ten women are as follows: Ami Orund, Joan Bavent, Ysoria Rainecourt, Jennifer Atkins, Natale Parry, Sabine Vauville, Lydia Gueron, Floretia Eveque, Cyrila Tirel, and-"

Hearing your name roll off of a stranger's tongue is disconcerting, especially in this context. You lean back against the wall behind you, steadying yourself as the truth of the matter sets in. As the herald continues his speech, you tune him out, eyes scanning the crowd. Which woman would have wanted to take my place? You wonder, gripping your basket with whiote-knuckled tighness. Some people in the crowd are looking your way. In this little villiage below the castle, it is not uncommon for everyone to be at least semi-aquainted with each other.  To your dismay, it appears there are quite a few aquaintances in the crowd. 

Warmth creeps into your face as you edge around the crowd, just wanting to go home. People whisper as you pass, and you duck your head, walking all the faster.

Someone beats you there. Jenny stands in front of your door, face pale, apron wringing in her hands. You both gaze at each other in wordless shock, as the fact of the matter sets in. You invite her into the house with little preamble, to prepare for the ordeal to come.

tag list: (hope i did this right ;-;)

@adnauseum11 @the-californicationist @strawberrygato @marierg

[ijustwanttoescapethatfrog]

Hello I once again present to you - Taylor Swift songs that make me think of Mean Girls.

So I'm obsessed with this idea and need to remove it from my brain. Color coded pink for Regina vibes and purple for Janis vibes and regular text is both vibes.

Also this is a very good song

Someone please validate my feelings I love you

Lilac short skirt, the one that fits me like skin

Did your research, you knew the price goin' in

And I'll tell you one thing, honey

I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean

Standing at the bar like something's funny, bubbly

Once you fix your face, I'm goin' in

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

I hear the whispers in your eyes

I'll make you wanna think twice

You'll find that you were never not mine

You're mine

Small talk, big love act like I don't care what you did

I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into the ditch, then ran and hid

And I'll tell you one thing, honey

I can take the upper hand and touch your body

Flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party

Or I might just love you 'til the end

(Chorus repeats with "Whether I'm gonna flip you off or pull you into the closet I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back")

I can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move

Push the reset button, we're becoming something new

Say you got somebody, I'll say, "I got someone too"

Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you

Bygones will be bygone eras fadin' into gray

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game

Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same

Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way

[gonchillunchis]

[natsumiheart]

Click for better quality cause tumblr likes to destroy drawings 😂

[flawedvictori]

Bug in The System

A/N:A quick Nuts and Dolts Kofi request, for @snowflakes-and-firebombs, from a grateful friend! You got someone who’s really happy to have you in their life, hon.

If you want your own request done, consider backing my patreon or tossing me some cash on my ko-fi?

She was fine, she'd said, when her first friend had looked at her with such worry.

Really, it was okay, she'd insistend, kissing her girlfriend's forehead.

Machines couldn't even get sick, she'd protested as Ruby pulled the covers up to her neck and kissed her forehead.

This was all just some weird coincidence, she'd whined between coughs, and Ruby had nodded sympathetically, spooning more soup into her mouth.

But, even she'd had to admit that she was sick when she'd started sneezing.

Which was odd, as no part of her design explained why she was able to sneeze...

And yet, there it was, plain as day.

So, at Ruby's insistence, she'd laid down to relax for a while.

Which had quickly turned into being bored out of her mind.

She loved being in Ruby's bed, was always ecstatic to be allowed in the team's room, but... it was so empty, some days.

The others had all cleared out, planning on seeing a movie and getting dinner, which left the two of them, all alone... with nothing on TV.

And she was sick.

She sighs, and Ruby looks up from her book, concern clear in her eyes.

She shakes her head, and Ruby smiles, bright and wide, and several of her internal sensors note a spike in body temperature.

She ignores them in favor of trying to smile back. "Hello!"

"Bored?" Ruby asks, grinning as she shakes her head, and Penny feels something in her chest take flight.

Several of her monitoring systems recommend a diagnostic, but she ignores them.

She was more than used to it by now.

Ruby always made her feel this way.

She nods, and Ruby smiles, moving that much closer to her. "Want me to read to you? You, uh... might already know this one, though..."

A quick scan of the cover confirms it, and she nods.

"The General made certain that I be taught stories of all the greatest huntresses, and read all the standard childhood stories." She explains, and Ruby's eyebrows furrow, just a bit.

There's a moment, and Ruby crawls that much closer, coughing into a hand.

"Well... did they ever tell you the stories of Summer Rose?" She asks, waving her hands slowly through the air and making sound effects with her mouth.

Penny's data banks pull up several mentions of Summer Rose, but...

Ruby's eyes are bright, and her chest is soaring again, and she can't bring herself to tell the truth.

"They didn't!" She says, tilting her head slightly. "Please, continue?" She asks, covering a hiccup with the words.

Ruby nods excitedly, zipping in to give her a quick kiss before starting her stories.

And Penny... Penny just relaxes, secure in the knowledge that she'd made the right choice...

And she couldn't be happier.

[wolfs-bxne]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

THERE SHE GOES………………………. IGNORING HER ONGOING FIC IN FAVOR OF AN AU………………….. ITS ME IM THE “SHE”

[lauraeklundnhaga]

Reviving this blog?

I feel like it is my responsibility (and also generally beneficial) to revive this tumblr. This is, and will be the home of all of my different projects coming up. I do so many different things: spoken word (x,x), acting (x), writing, singing, general activism etc. And I recognise all of that is really hard to navigate for someone who is interested. So I’m planning to make this sort of a central blog, that you should follow, if you like, and are interested in my work.

I’ll be reblogging PGG gifs (fuck I love those), posting links to events and finished projects, and just... musings of creating, if that’s okay. Also I was thinking of maybe doing monthly updates listing all the things I have going on, even if I don’t have the time to post every once in a while.

Vittusirkus, my other url (finnish for cunt circus, you can blame Jutta for that one) will keep excisting as my reblog, “sjw”, angry bullshit blog, that you are very welcome to follow. This one will be a more... I guess official, or atleast organised one.

TL;DR: Follow this blog if you’re interested in the content I, Laura Eklund Nhaga, produce.

Here is what you can look forward to in the near future:

LAUNCH OF A WEBSITE I’m working on a website for similar reasons I’m reviving, and originally created this blog. It will also work as a sort of... CV, portfolio, or archive I guess. This will be done as soon as I figure square space out. 

SHORT FILMS, LOTS OF SHORT FILMS I recently took part in a Kino event in Helsinki, in which a bunch of film lovers create shortfilms with 0 budget. In that event I featured in 3 different films, that will be coming to the internet soon, I hope. These include and awesome Get Out-esque film about racism, a beautiful lesbian music video, and my own film, Revelations. Coming soon, to an internet near you :) I’m also attending a similar event in Berlin this August, and hopefully many more films will be created there.

MY SERIAL STORY After overwhelming support (srsly, thank you), I have started to work on my serial story in earnest. I’m really excited about it, and really hope you guys will love it. I can tell you now, that it will be my take on fantasy genre, which in many ways is kind of returning to my roots. I also now have a title: The Witch of Aergrad So feel free to use that tag (or... um.. “TWoA,” I guess), if you want to discuss it (not that there is much to discuss), or are looking for updates. Updated considering this series will be posted on this blog, but also reblogged on vittusirkus most probably. The series will eventually have it’s own tumblr, but that’s not really relevant yet.

SECRET THINGY (not in the near future) There is also a project I am a part of, that I don’t know if I can talk about yet. It is not my project at all, I just... am in it. But I do have a central role, I think y’all will like it. It might be years in the making though, but I will keep you updated, also on this blog.

YOU TUBE? She said, tentatively, simultaneously remembering that she still doesn’t have a consistent schedule. And tbh, I might never. YouTube requires so much maintenance that I don’t think I will ever be very consistent with it. I would like to be like a Nathan Zed type of vlogger, but my content is not anything near his quality. Anyway, if you want to see more vlog-type casual things, feel free to subscribe to: Self-portraits Just to calrify, all of my bigger video-projects, such as short films and poetry videos will be uploaded to my personal youtube. You can subscribe to that here.

Social Media

If you would like to follow me on Social Media, (which, I would love if you did), here are the main ones:

You can like me on facebook Instagram: @vittusrikus And personal Tumbrl: @vittusirkus

That’s all I can think to say now, except, I will be very thankful, if you follow this blog, and so humbled by your support. Thank you! I will keep making stuff, and hoping you enjoy it :)

Love, Laura