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aboutescapism · 1 year

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enjoy the silence | ao’nung.

ao’nung x fem!sully!reader

part one | next part

synopsis: Nothing could break your sunshine personality, not even your family’s abrupt move to Pandora’s reefs. But, the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik’s son of the Metkayina, who you’ve fallen at first sight for, greatly tested that.

genre: fluff, angst.

contains: pining from reader; toward ao’nung, mentions of bullying, name calling, feeling alone. ao’nung being a bully (what’s new). unrequited love.

a/n: welcome to my first piece of writing ever! i had to give the honors to my bf ao’nung. this isn’t exactly canon to ao’nung in atwow, he doesn’t outwardly bully the sullys like he does in the movie. but still angsty. let me know if you guys enjoy this!

The Metkayina's way of living was definitely strange to adapt to, but not difficult. Your new life was filled with training your breathing, riding your Ilu, or exploring underwater. Pandora’s enchanting reefs made it hard to dislike living in Awa’atlu, and despite having to uproot your life from the forest so suddenly, you really enjoyed living here. Every day you found something that made your life here greater. Finding an especially pretty shell, weaving your first top with pretty pearls, and even finding a pretty boy to crush on.

The son of the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahik of the Metkayina had caught your eye. When your family first landed here, being picked, prodded, and eyed at by the people, your attention couldn’t help be on him. You were ecstatic when Tonowari put his two children to help your family learn the way of the Metkayina. Ao’nung, not so much.

His death glare scared you, sure, but despite that, he was gorgeous. His braids that tie up into a bun of dark curls, his tooth necklace that dangles off his chest when he bends over, his glistening skin when he’d emerge from the water. Everything about him was admirable, you’d bet his personality had to be wild and free. You’d just have to get close enough for the heir to notice you.

Just your luck, Ao’nung was most often paired with you when you were training. Tsireya was too enamored with your brother, Lo’ak, to pick anyone else.

“Breathe deep from here,” Ao’nung instructed you, hand on your upper stomach. Your breath couldn’t help but hitch, soon quickening.

“Your heart, it’s beating fast. Calm your breathing, feel the water,” Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Tsireya all shared a knowing look.

“Sorry, Ao’nung,” he gave you a small smile, but it soon disappeared and the lesson moved on.

“Just focus, m’kay?”

His smile was your glimmer of hope. Maybe he did take the same liking you had with him? No, he’s just following orders. But, did his father’s orders entail being friendly, too?

Still, you had hope. He had to be your someone, by Eywa, you felt it.

You spent your free time practicing your weaving to make gifts for him, or practicing your breathing and sign language to impress him. Always at the shore to collect sea shells for him. Never not around the Tsahik, his mother, listening to her speak with the fellow healers. Ronal had even grown to like you. Such an attentive, obedient girl. Just what Ao’nung needed in his life, your attention would put a pause on his recent bad behavior. Perhaps it was fate that a Tsakarem was brought to their clan, the perfect mate for her son.

In the Omaticaya, you trained everyday for your whole life on how to rule next to the Olo’eyktan and interpret the will of Eywa. You couldn’t help but believe that, maybe, Ao’nung was the Olo’eyktan you’ve been training for. The one to look after the people with. The one to be by your side for the rest of your life. Your mate. You would be perfect together.

Of course, he didn’t see you the same way. But, you didn’t know this. He saw you as a measly forest girl with “demon” blood flowing through her veins that didn’t belong. Your five fingered waves of hello to him every morning were nothing but offensive. How could you be so content with being part enemy?

You were familiar with the uncertainty people felt toward you being half human. You felt it in your own clan. The Omaticaya didn’t take your extra fingers and the hairs on your brow bone with delight. They had been nothing short of disappointed when Toruk Makto’s children came out looking like dream walkers and not pure Na’vi.

The children of the clan specifically acted on their distaste quite boldly throughout your life. The teasing, name calling, bullying, it wasn’t new to you. “Freak,” “demon,” pushing around, leaving you out, pranks being pulled. Jake had always said to not give them the reaction they’re looking for, and after a while it worked. You gave them nothing, they left you alone.

But you didn’t like being alone. That wasn't what you wanted. You didn’t like not fitting in, not belonging. It hurt, at first, having no one. No one to talk to, to hang out with. All you had was yourself.

Your family made up for it, though. How could you not be happy with them? They filled the hole in your heart made from loneliness, all you could see was the good things in your life when you had them.

“You’re always lookin’ on the bright side, honey. Always makin’ my day better. It’s something we should all take after you,” your father, Jake, always said to you.

Everything was yellow and bright in your life. The way you and your siblings could all fit on your hammock back home, sleeping together. Learning how to shoot with a bow. Your mother, Neytiri, making arrows and weaving tops with you and your sisters.

Coming closer to becoming an adult in the eyes of the Omaticaya every passing day. The pretty flowers you’d harvest to bring to Jake, the close-knit bond of your family. All good things, always good things. Nothing, not even the loneliness, could break your sunshine.

So, you saw your move to the reefs as a chance to explore the world and make it exciting rather than sad. Maybe you’d find people to fit in with, even though this clan was so drastically different from yours, there has to be someone here for you, right?

“Are you a freak?”

Startled, your gaze on the bright blue water shifts to look around, “What?”

It was Ao’nung, your demeanor calms. “I said, are you some sort of freak?”

You smile at him, standing from your crouched position on the sand, “No, Ao’nung, m’not.” Even this close up, he’s breathtaking. His face is inches from yours.

He falters but rebuts, “what about your hands, huh? You’ve got demon in you. Five fingers.”Ao’nung takes your hand, emphasizing his point by shoving your own hand in your face. But he’s holding your hand, so softly, too. Not squeezing or gripping it harshly. Your heart is swelling and you wonder if he’s feeling the same electricity from the contact.

You reluctantly pull your hand from his grasp, a small smile present on your face. He must be teasing you, no harm in a little banter.

“Got five from my dad. Used to be a human and now he’s Toruk Makto. He’s the greatest warrior on Pandora.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s the mighty Toruk Makto hiding out here in the reefs, then? Must still be human, running away from his own battles. It’s pathetic,” you understand, now, he’s not teasing. He’s speaking from disgust.

“No, he’s Na’vi. Has been for years now. We’re Na’vi, not Sky People, dream walkers.” You see him, you understand his confusion, his distaste, his ignorance. You want him to see you, too.

Maybe he will see you as more than a forest girl, more than a demon. Maybe he will see your qualities, your fast learning, your fascination with the water, your adoration for him. Maybe he will see you the same way you see him, as a future mate. His girl.

“But you aren’t Na’vi, can’t you see that? You don’t belong in this world, here, with us. You’re meant to be with the Sky People, not here, bringing your war to us. It’s selfish, just what Sky People would do. Cower and destroy. You don’t see like Na’vi, you don’t understand like Na’vi. You don’t belong,” he finishes, stalking away back to the village.

Your heart can’t help but shatter. Each of Ao’nung’s harsh words pricking at your heart and tears from your eyes. And still, you can’t help but yearn for him.

#would anyone read this series fr #i live for good ol unrequited love #and for my bf ao’nung #ofc #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung angst #ao’nung series #aonung x reader #aonung angst #YALL PLZ TELL ME IF U WOULD #atwow

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ficmashup · 6 months

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Out for Drinks

A/N: Hi again, a single person asked me to continue this and I'm an absolute sucker for anyone asking me for anything, so tada. ;) Still have no clue what I'm doing, but it's fun so who cares. I think I'll continue this a little further until the story has closure, even if it's open-ended, so yeah. Thanks to people interacting. Glad you like it. :)

Warnings: Once again, very vague SA or trauma references, some harsh language, nightmares, f!reader, I mean it's almost an OC, she just doesn't have a name really, idk what I'm doing :/ First person again.

Word Count: 3.7k

Feral Masterlist

I have mixed feelings returning to base. On one hand, it’s nice to not be looking around every corner for someone looking to shoot me. Not freezing my ass off is also refreshing. On the other hand, it means being around all the other soldiers and I realize that I’d relaxed a bit around the team. Enough that I feel my defenses going back up as I walk through base, alert and aware of all eyes that trail me. We’ve just gotten back and the others have dispersed. Hopefully to shower, like I plan to. Then I feel the weight of people’s gazes leave me right before a little shiver slides down my back. I turn around to find Price behind me, a little frown on his face as he looks around. But his expression smooths as he looks at me.

“Glad to know it wasn’t a mistake taking you on. Well done.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, sending a shock of pride and pleasure through me.

I straighten up and nod. “It’s a pleasure to be with a team that lets me do my job, sir. Thank you.” There’s a small part of me that also wants to thank him for keeping me from freezing with his body heat, but I’m pretty sure I can’t mention that without blushing.

“Keep doing your job like that and you’ll leave us wondering what we ever did without you.” His hand lingers on my shoulder before dropping, his fingers skimming my arm. We begin walking towards the barracks, our pace leisurely as our boots squelch in the mud. He clears his throat slightly and my eyes snap up to his face in an instant. “Have fun with the boys tonight. If you decide to go.” He says, the corner of his mouth twitching. My brows furrow slightly. Right after we got to base, the others informed me of a post-mission ritual of going out for a drink. I hadn’t decided whether I’d go or not, despite desperately wanting to dissolve in a sweet drink.

“Will you go?” I ask as I tug my bag up my shoulder a bit.

Price nods. “I go for a drink or two. And to keep them out of trouble. Mostly.” His eyes sparkle a bit as he considers me and I get the impression he goes to watch the shit they get themselves into rather than prevent it. “Not sure whether you’d be more or less trouble.”

My lips part in surprise as I blink up at him, then I can’t help but give him a half-smile. “I do have self-control, Captain. I simply also have a low tolerance for idiocy and sometimes the only way to get people to see sense is to knock it into them. Literally.”

He chuckles and the warm sound hits me like a shot of whiskey, warming my stomach and getting me to relax just a touch more. “Well, you won’t hear me agree.” We stop in front of the barracks and it’s a pleasure to see the smile on his face, the ease in his posture. It’s been a while since I’ve just talked with somebody normally like this. Since I’ve let myself. “But you won’t hear me disagree either.” He finishes and my smile widens just a touch.

“I look forward to seeing you try to wrangle cats tonight then, sir.” I give him an easy salute before walking to my room, but my little smile lasts the whole way there.

* * *

The place they take me is an absolute shithole.

The floor is sticky as syrup, the bar chipped and scratched, and nearly every booth or barstool has stuffing coming out of the worn red leather cushions. But there’s top shelf whiskey behind the bar and that’s what they order as we file into the dump. It’s clearly a soldier’s bar and it’s busy tonight. My spine straightens as I see the amount of people shoved into the place and I make sure to pick a spot on the edge of our little group where I can see everything clearly. My gaze doesn’t leave the bartender’s hands as she pours our drinks and I don’t let the boys touch mine as I take it, my hand perched over the rim as I pull it close to me. They don’t comment, but I feel Ghost’s eyes on my hand as I cover my drink and his grip tightens on his own.

“To our Surgeon! Pray to God she doesn’t have to cut one of us open one of these days.” Soap holds up his glass and the others follow suit while I tilt mine towards them with a smile tugging on my lips.

“Don’t get shot, stabbed, or otherwise be idiots, and the likelihood of that goes down.” I remind them, feeling warm as they chuckle and I throw back my drink. My nose wrinkles at the bitter flavor as I slide the glass back to the bartender. “Mojito and a glass of water. Thanks.” She nods, giving an appreciative look to the men beside me while I shake my head slightly. When I look back to them, they’re looking at me judgement on their faces.

“A mojito, G?” Gaz starts, disappointment filling his eyes.

I lean forward in my seat, leveling them with a look. “All of you can choke on your bitter whiskey and beer, I want sugar.” Price reacts first, a barely noticeable smirk on his face as he makes a little noise that’s almost a laugh, then takes a little sip of his drink without saying a word. There’s amusement in his eyes, though.

Soap scoots towards me on his stool, clearly distraught. “It’s not just that. You disrespected a good whiskey throwing it back like that. You’ve got to savor it.”

My eyes roll. “I’m not savoring that piss-flavored swill, thanks. I appreciate the tradition and participated, but that’s all I can give you.” I respond with humor in my voice even as I watch the bartender prepare my mojito and hand me a bottled water. When she gives me my drink, I pointedly drag my lips over the sugar covered rim of my glass before taking a sip while daring the men to say something. The drink is delicious and I take a deep breath of the sweet smell edged with mint.

“Lucky you’re a good shot, G, or we’d have you thrown out on principle.” Gaz teases and I raise a brow at him as if daring him to try.

“Let G have her sweet tooth. We don’t need anyone else wearing down the stock of good whiskey in this place anyway.” Ghost, surprisingly, lets me get away with my preference before taking a sip of his drink. Soap and Gaz grumble a bit and I’m sure I’ll hear more shit about this later, but they let it go for now.

Soap rests his elbow on the bar and faces me, Gaz peeking around him. “Go on, then, lass. Tell us about yourself. Have anyone waiting for you back home?” The question is kind and genuine. Not leading.

I return the position and turn my body towards him, although my eyes are surveying the bar more often than not. “This your plan all along? Give me drinks and interrogate me?” It’s a light tease and Soap grins immediately.

“We want to get to know you.” Gaz offers and the other’s have eyes on me as well. “Despite your bad taste in drinks.” He adds in a quieter tone and I smirk. It’s only fair, I suppose. We’re a team, we’re trusting each other with everything, I can put up with some questions.

“No, nobody’s waiting for me at home. My parents died before I enlisted and I’ve been moving around ever since, so never got attached to anyone else. No partner to speak of. I get restless easily. That’s why I’m good at my job—I like the focus and having a goal to go after.” Soap blinks a little at me being so forthcoming with information, but Ghost nods. Seems he understands a little of what I’m saying. My eyes flick to Price at the other end of the bar, still nursing his drink, and his gaze is light as it rests on me. He’s listening just as much as the others. “What about you lot?” I return the question and happily sip on my drink while they tell me about themselves.

Soap and Gaz are, unsurprisingly, the most forthcoming. Gaz is more than pleased to lament his lack of partner, but proud to say that he leaves a string of broken hearts wherever he goes. It’s not too surprising. The man oozes warmth and dedication. Soap’s Scottish accent seems to get a touch deeper as he talks about his home and how he blames himself for the last loss of his favorite football team because he was on mission and couldn’t go to the game. Ghost says little about his home life. Just that he lives in London right now and there’s a little café nearby that serves a good cup of tea.

“Fuckin’ Brits.” Soap quips instantly and gets cuffed on the ear for his trouble. They descend into an argument full of sharp words and teases about who is more unbearable, Scots or Brits, and I’m so entertained that I nearly don’t register the man coming up behind me. I catch him in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar and turn around too late to send him a death glare telling him what a bad idea this is. His hand wraps around my bicep and my body is immediately stiff and my hands are clenched into fists. He’s not in uniform and he doesn’t strike me as military. Probably just some jack off that wandered in here and decided to go for one of the few women in this place. I’m in civilian clothes, jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt tucked in. Maybe not obviously military to someone who doesn’t think there are women in the military anyway. Idiot.

“What’s a pretty—"

“You have two seconds to get your hand off me before I kick you in the balls so hard that you deepthroat your own cock.” My words are sharp and there’s not an ounce of hesitation or doubt in my voice. His eyes widen and he blinks as if the words have to fight through the wall of ignorance in his head before he can understand them. Yet they must not get all the way through because he doesn’t let go and instead leans closer with a grin blooming on his face. His mouth opens and I’m already pulling my leg back for the kick when I see movement out of the corner of my eye and Price is suddenly there, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Step back.” The words are a command and the anger swirling in my gut calms a touch at the smooth authority in his tone. Of course, when a man says it, the other guy pulls his hand off me but doesn’t move away just yet.

“She yours?” He asks, looking Price over while rage boils my blood at being referenced as an object to be owned.

Price keeps close without touching me, his other arm stretched out behind me while his hand perches on the bar. “Mine to protect. Step back, son, before I let her keep her promise.” He releases the man’s shoulder with a light push to get him moving, then slides into his place and sits on the stool next to me with his back turned towards the man, effectively shutting him out. He seems flabbergasted, but eventually turns and dubiously returns to whatever corner he crawled out from.

“Sorry that I couldn’t let you take care of that yourself, G.” Price apologizes and his calm, smooth voice does wonders to soothe the anger still roiling in my chest. “It’s one thing to let you get into fights with soldiers that deserve it and should be able to handle themselves, but it’s another to let you decimate the civilian population.” His gaze holds mine, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

I take a deep breath to try and calm down. “Understood, Captain.”

“Just Price when we’re out like this.” He corrects and I hesitate a moment before nodding.

“Understood, Price. I wouldn’t want to get everyone kicked out, anyway.” I glance at the others who have busied themselves watching a football game on the tv, trusting their Captain to handle whatever the problem was. But I’m not foolish enough to think that they weren’t aware of every move that was just made and every word that was said. I finish my drink and set it aside in favor of my water. There’s a little satisfaction in hearing the soft click as the seal breaks and I take a small sip. “You didn’t chime in earlier when I asked about everyone’s homelife.” I offer, letting the question that isn’t a question linger so he can decide whether to answer or not.

He heaves a breath and shrugs a shoulder, accepting his glass as the bartender passes by. “Not much to say. I’ve got a flat in London and I’ll meet Ghost for tea every now and then when I’m desperate enough for company.” There’s a snort down the table from the man and Price smirks at the sound. “The job makes it hard to set down real roots, so I’ve no one waiting for me back home other than old friends that’ve survived this shitshow and are waiting for me to join them or kick the bucket.” He chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

I consider him a moment, humming. “I hope both are far off.” It’s as close as I can get right now to admitting that I respect him. That I want him to stay on and to keep working with him. More than that, I actually like him. The others are growing on me, but there’s something a little easier with Price.

He returns my gaze and it feels nice to see his eyes soften a touch. “I can guarantee one is and with you behind the scope and holding the needle, I’m confident the other is as well.” I nod, accepting the compliment and responsibility that comes with it. We talk a little more as the night goes on and it’s clear that he’s usually the designated driver on nights like this. I offer to take over for him since I don’t want any more to drink, but he refuses, telling me he’d rather keep talking than drink more and look like an idiot like the others. He says it affectionately though, clearly not minding being the responsible one as long as he’s looking after the team.

Overall, it’s not a bad evening. The bad part comes later in the form of nightmares and sweat and waking up not remembering where I am for a moment. My hand clutches tight to my shirt over my heart, feeling it thunder in my chest as my mind comes back to me and I try to calm down. “Fucking hell.” I murmur, shaking my head and sliding out of bed. I change out of my sweaty clothes into shorts and a sports bra before wandering out into the hall.

I head to the training room and lose myself in the monotony of going at a punching bag. I passed my psych eval, I’m fit for work, but sometimes things creep up on me. It’s the nature of the things we do. Though these nightmares have nothing to do with missions I’ve been on. The dull sound of my fists hitting the punching bag echoes in the room and I eventually calm down enough to stop. I slowly unwrap my knuckles as I walk back towards my room, letting them flutter into one of the trashcans scattered around base. My steps slow as my mind whirls, then I change my course.

The mess hall won’t be open yet since dawn is still about an hour away, but Price has a coffee pot in his office. He’s offered to let the team use it as long as we only touch the pot and mugs alongside it. Time to see if that offer was genuine.

It feels a bit like an intrusion as I walk into his office without him there, but Price isn’t the kind of man to say something he doesn’t mean. I make an entire pot of coffee, knowing that he’ll be up at the crack of dawn and knowing the pot will keep it warm until then. The little sounds of the machine running and dripping dark ambrosia into the glass pot are soothing with their normalcy, especially as the nutty scent fills the room. It mixes well with the leftover smell from his signature cigars and while I don’t sit down once I have my cup, I do stay as I drink my coffee, breathing in the comforting scents.

I don’t realize how long I’ve been here until I hear boots coming down the hall. My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with my second cup of coffee. The gait is familiar and I have a brief moment of panic at feeling like I’m about to be caught doing something I shouldn’t. Instead, I take a breath and turn around to pour another cup of coffee before waiting by the door and offering it to Price as he steps in. Surprise flits through his eyes, not at finding someone here since he could probably smell the coffee from down the hall, but at finding me here.

“Thought you might’ve been Ghost. He’s the only one usually up at this time, but not usually after a night out.” He greets me and a little tingle slides down my spine at his gruff voice still rough from sleep. He takes the cup with a grateful nod while walking around his desk.

I linger by the door, still clinging to my coffee. “Woke up early today. Thanks for letting me use your coffee pot. I’ll be out in just a minute.” I tell him as he takes a sip of the coffee, shaking his head.

“You’re fine. Take your time.” He says the words easily, genuinely, and my shoulders lax before I realize how stiffly I’d been holding myself. His eyes remain on me and both of us remain standing. I’m not sure if he’s unconsciously copying me or if he’s retaining some idea of a gentleman not sitting before a woman. “How long have you been up?”

I shrug a shoulder, shifting my weight slowly from foot to foot to get rid of a bit of anxious energy. “An hour and a half? Maybe two? Needed to work out a little energy.” He hums, nodding and letting his eyes drop to his desk for a few moments. I hesitate as I think through what I’m about to say and I know he’s waiting, letting me decide without pressure. “The nightmares take me by surprise sometimes. Helps to do something physical until the memories fade.” It’s an olive branch, the words are the most vulnerable I’ve been since arrival. Nightmares aren’t abnormal around here and since Price is the only one who has read my file, I know he’ll understand what I mean.

His eyes raise to mine again and they’re gentle and nonjudgmental. “If you want to talk about it, you have my ear. If you want to sit and stay, my door is open. Sometimes the boys do the same.” It seems like such an easy offer for him to make. My fingers shift as I hold my coffee and I take a few steps closer to him, leaning my hip against one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

“And you, Captain?” I prod just a little, curious as to what he does when he has struggles.

He gives me a crooked grin. “I have good soldiers that come in and sit quietly in my office from time to time. They’re pretty good listeners.” I return his smile. It’s a trade then. Nightmare for nightmare. It’s a refreshing mindset and one that I haven’t often run into. More proof that Price is a good leader—a good man.

“Pretty fair price for a good cup of coffee.” I surprise myself by teasing and I’m rewarded by his smile widening as he takes a sip from his own cup.

“Mm. You’re welcome anytime. You make a better cup than the lot of them, anyway.” My lips press together to hide my smile at the compliment as I finish my coffee and set it aside.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I begin to drift towards the door, halting when he calls out for me.

“G.” I turn back to find him reaching into his desk and shuffling around a bit, then he walks over to me with a little box in his hands. “Sometimes it helps to remind yourself that you’re not there anymore. Find something to ground yourself afterward. Like this.” He taps the top of the box as I take it and my brows furrow at the sight of one of his cigar boxes. I open it to find it empty, but I understand what he means as the distinct scent drifts up to me. I can’t help thinking of how well I slept wrapped up in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cigars and him. My fingers quickly shut the box to keep more of the smell inside as I look up at Price with a hint of a blush in my cheeks.

“Thank you.” It’s for more than just this. It’s a thank you for being gentle with me, for being thoughtful, for doing more than a usual Captain would. His entire body seems to soften and he reaches up, lightly squeezing my shoulder with a heavy hand.

“Anytime.” He responds and it takes me a minute to pull away, his hand sliding off me as I go.

That night, I sleep holding the cigar box and breathing in the smell that’s just so…Price. I don’t have a single nightmare.

Taglist (because you expressed interest! If you don't want to be tagged, let me know! And if anyone else wants to be tagged, tell me and I'll add you):

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murtacalafate · 1 year

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Knowing Fujimoto’s previous works, he might pull something tragic over the protagonists. Let cringe boy and fail girl be happy cmonn!

#chainsaw man #asa mitaka #denji hayakawa #asaden #denasa #csm part 2 #csm #let the losers be happy pleaaaase #each chapter gives me content for good ol' angst #mc draws

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valoale · 17 days

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Sketch Saturday or me trying to be more active here with art

Q: Harry has ran after him in the pouring rain and is calling for him; what is he saying?

#technically it’s already Sunday here it’s two am but anyway #been staring at this for hours like I like this but it’s getting distorted in my eyes #but anyway I love me some good ol’ angst #hurt/comfort my beloved #really wanna finish this one #but I need to sleep first #my two am brain ain’t braining #hp #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry james potter #drarry #harry potter fan art #vee art #sketch

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orbmanson7 · 10 months

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Time to analyze the next part of the "The Sides Need a Nice Day" video, this time it's Virgil and Roman.

(If you want to read the first part about Patton and Logan, read that here.

If you want to read the last part about Janus and Remus, go here.)

Moments here are less about foreshadowing and more about recollection and the current standings amongst the sides, most notably how Roman feels about his place after all the events in SvS:R (and likely the FwSA Asides episode).

Virgil starts off by stating he noticed Roman being whinier and moodier lately, more so than usual. It's possible at this point that he doesn't have full context from the SvS:R episode as he wasn't in attendance, though we know he's at least aware of Janus' involvement/acceptance because he brings it up in the FwSA Asides episode.

He describes Roman as being a bummer, and Virgil (like Patton) is able to pick up on this because it's something he sees in himself enough to recognize it. He empathizes with Roman even if he doesn't fully understand why Roman feels the way he does, because he's been in a spot like that before himself, moody and down in the dumps.

He says that he figured something needed to be done and says he might as well be the one to do it. It doesn't seem like this is out of obligation, which is the way he's attempting to frame it, but rather that he's noticed Roman feels down and has a desire to help him out.

He saw that Patton was relatively successful at cheering Logan up so he decides to give that method a try. However, he uses it in a very different way.

First things first, he immediately pops in, startling Roman, which you'd think would not be the right play here, but Virgil isn't sucking up to Roman's ego to cheer him up today, he's just trying to give him something fun to do and focus on instead.

Virgil doesn't start off by explaining what he's doing, he just gets started. When Roman yells, asking what is wrong with him (because he's a king of deflection), Virgil then explains in simple terms (with some free insults thrown in) what it is that they're doing. He specifically states "we are going to..." throughout this, implying this is meant to be a group activity.

I want to point out this difference from Patton and Logan's version, as Patton had instead chosen solo activities for Logan (as those are what he likes) and was just tagging along the whole time, but they did not participate in those activities together.

Virgil and Roman, however, are doing these activities with each other.

The reason for this may tie back to love languages, interestingly enough. While the intention lends to all of the video falling under the 'acts of kindness' love language, each part has something specific to the side of focus, as well.

For Patton and Logan, Patton being knowledgeable about what Logan enjoyed without asking and then presenting the activities to him instead of participating alongside him would technically count as 'gift-giving'. And for Virgil and Roman, Virgil finding common ground the two of them share and finding similar interests to further their bond, sharing and spending time together, would be 'quality time'.

And later, for Janus and Remus, Janus knowing what Remus enjoys but not participating directly in the activity with him could count as 'gift-giving', but also validating his interests and thoughts could count (in a way) as 'words of affirmation' (which I'll discuss more in the next post).

So, Virgil has already planned for these activities to be done together with Roman. The activities in question, however, do not all require a second party, but are more enjoyable with one.

They start with listening to that new rendition of We Didn't Start the Fire, and Roman is confused as to what he's hearing because it's not what he knows or expects. He's caught off guard because he believed one thing but was instead told another.

Wonder what that's reminiscent of...

Virgil quickly explains what it actually is, as well as his opinion that it's better.

What Virgil is trying to do here is what a lot of people enjoy doing - sharing music that they love! Virgil is aware that Roman enjoys music and he knows Roman likes this particular song, so Virgil, having heard the new rendition and liking it, believed that sharing it with Roman might allow for yet another shared interest of theirs. He's trying to find more things they can both enjoy together, which is very thoughtful and nice of him to do. It shows that Virgil genuinely considers them friends and they've grown much closer over all this time.

When Roman doesn't seem all that pleased about the song, however, Virgil is VERY quick to offer "I've got others" to salvage his attempt. He doesn't sound upset, though, simply prepared as though he anticipated this could happen. Roman gladly takes the offer because things have already started off in an unexpected way for him and he would rather find something familiar next.

He seems excited by the next activity, only to be confused and somewhat alarmed at what it turns out to be instead. Virgil explains and even states that he thought Roman would be interested in the Disney creepypastas, again as something that can act as a shared interest between them. We've seen, long long ago in The Dark Side of Disney episode, that Roman and Virgil do already have a shared interest very similar to this, so it's understandable that Virgil would attempt to build on a foundation that's already been established.

When Roman says he's done and wants to move on, Virgil simply accepts it, just says "cool" and brings up the next options to pick. It's interesting to see how Virgil is so accepting of this despite Roman's dismissals so far. He doesn't appear to be offended that Roman isn't really liking his suggestions, likely because Virgil has either prepared for this possibility or because he knows he's building on their shared interests that already exist.

To give an example, if you and your friend like the same tv show, but you disagree on your favorite character, that doesn't mean you don't both still love the show or can even enjoy watching it together. It just means you enjoy different aspects of it, and that bond isn't ruined in any way, even if it could potentially be a stronger bond if you both liked the same character.

In this case, for Virgil, he already knows he and Roman have these shared interests, he just wants to strengthen that bond, so throwing ideas out there and seeing what works doesn't have to be stressful. It is surprising that he's not more nervous about the potential of a worst-case scenario, considering that's kind of his norm, but this may just be because he's more focused on giving Roman something nice to do and so he's less worried about his own thoughts in the moment.

Moving on, when Virgil gives the next options, Roman looks concerned. They've already had two strikes, two instances where he thought he'd get one thing when it was really another. So now he's worried what the next option will entail. Will it be another mistake?

He's unfortunately right to worry because Virgil's attempt to offer a spider as an animal companion doesn't sit well with Roman. He is extremely uncomfortable and is more desperate to move on to something else rather than stay there any longer.

I want to point this out, that Roman is still participating in all of this. Having had three strikeouts in a row, it would make sense for him to assume none of these ideas were going to be something he liked and he could give up and just go back to what he was doing earlier. But instead, he chooses to try another option with Virgil.

I think this may be significant for his character, likely because Roman wants this to work. Whether that is because it's a distraction from how he feels (even if it's not the most welcome one) or because he wants to enjoy himself and not be alone in all of this, he is still willing to try more options until they find something that works.

It showcases Roman's tenacity and perseverance in an interesting way, that he will keep going until he finds the right solution (not too little, not too big, but just right).

That being said, it doesn't mean he has to do it with a smile on his face, as he's clearly frustrated once he sees what his next option will be.

It seems like a nice activity that he would normally enjoy, but considering how every previous activity had already turned out differently than he'd hoped, he is now expecting the worst.

Virgil follows through, reading him a fairy tale, and of course, tells the original version of The Little Mermaid. Roman is not pleased by this, seeming increasingly bothered and upset, because yet again, this isn't what he expected and ultimately not what he wanted.

He eventually yells out in frustration his problem with the story, saying that that's not how the story goes.

Virgil argues that he's telling the real story (which he is) and attempts to tack on the point about the mermaid being rewarded in the end for her selflessness, as though in an attempt to placate to Roman a little bit.

But Roman cuts him off, declaring that the prince in the story wouldn't be that "stupid or mean," because he's a prince, and that's not how princes are meant to be.

"A prince always does the right thing, the good thing."

And then he suggests that maybe that's not the real ending to the story.

What Roman is doing here, which should be obvious, is projecting his insecurities (mostly about the end of SvS:R) that have yet to be resolved onto this other story. He's giving his thoughts on his own identity issues and personal struggles.

He was faced with an enormous change in his reality after SvS:R, having been led to believe for so long that he was doing what was right and good, that he was the good guy, the hero. But then he was slapped in the face with the realization that there's far more grey area than he could ever possibly imagine, and that the moral compass he'd been using to guide his righteous path hadn't been as righteous and reliable as he'd thought. He's stuck in a position of having done what he believed to be right and now being told that it was wrong, which feels unfair because he thought he was seen as a hero and now he's being told that he's not.

It's an extremely sobering and depressing notion that Roman hasn't even begun to address yet.

Virgil seems to realize that what Roman is getting at isn't his dislike of the story, it's that he wants comfort right now, and stories can provide that when used in certain ways, such as for escapism.

Escapism is something both Virgil and Roman would likely understand rather well.

For Virgil, it's a way to relieve stress and anxiety, to get away from the terrors of the real world for just a moment.

For Roman, it's a way to indulge in fantasy and pretend those troubles are far away. He can imagine a way to fight them off or avoid them completely as if they no longer exist.

Escapism can be dangerous if not reeled in, though. You have to face reality at some point or you'll never grow and improve yourself.

But right now, Virgil's whole reason for doing this was to cheer Roman up, to make him feel better, so if that meant letting Roman have his fantasy instead, just for a while, then he would do that.

So he alters the story he was telling, gives it something more along the lines of its Disney rendition's ending, makes it more saccharine and sweet, and this gets Roman to finally relax, which shows how much this method really works for him (and how much he may rely on it, too).

Now, the story points that Virgil mentions are very intriguing. Firstly, they are different than the Disney version, so he's not just ripping that off, he's making some of this up but still has it based on the original tale.

The parts he changes? He mentions the prince realizing the marriage was a sham, the prince finding the little mermaid before she turned to foam and saving her, that the prince proclaimed his love for her, that the little mermaid realized the prince was good all along, and that they lived happily ever after.

These all sound like wish fulfillments for Roman - things that he specifically would want, as they all center the prince's actions in the story (not the little mermaid's, you know, the titular character).

Now, if I had to guess, I believe this is meant to be taken as an analogy for an ideal version of Roman being Thomas' hero, where Roman is acting as the prince and Thomas is acting as the little mermaid, and I'll explain why.

I believe the marriage being a sham part is less of an analogy and more of a reference to the wedding vs callback scenario, and saying it was a sham is meant to imply that Janus had set things up (as the supposed bad guy) so that Roman (the heroic prince) would look stupid. Realizing it was a sham puts the prince in a position of power over the one setting the trap, making him appear smarter and confident instead for outsmarting his enemy.

The part about the prince finding the mermaid before she turned to foam and saving her might be in reference to Thomas' mental state getting worse, losing himself, so much so that Remus had come along with all those intrusive thoughts, and if Roman had been able to prevent that whole situation, somehow Thomas would be okay and happier and healthier instead.

Proclaiming love should be obvious, Roman (and all the sides, really) genuinely love and care about Thomas, they want him to be happy and safe and healthy and doing what he loves, even if they all think they each know the best way for that to happen. Declaring his love here may mean that Roman can fully express his passion in what he does for Thomas, because he anticipates reciprocation (as you may in any fairytale). If he declares Thomas as his favorite, as his one & only, then perhaps Thomas would do the same of him? This would definitely show Roman's focus on his self-importance and his desire to be paid attention to and adored in turn.

And the mermaid realizing he was good after all is absolutely a direct reference to the end of SvS:R, because the notion that Thomas would not see Roman as his hero absolutely broke him in that moment. Wanting to indulge in the fantasy that, instead, Thomas realizes he is a hero and good and right after all, is his ideal scenario and an escape from what really happened.

And then a classic ending of happy ever after being there is what Roman wants, it's his ultimate ideal. He doesn't care how he gets that ending, so long as he gets it.

Virgil gives him that escape to fantasy, then holds his tongue and runs out of the room before adding "for now." Those words tacked on to the end would bring it all back to reality, because it's true (though quite pessimistic)!

Even if all the ideal parts were to happen, that doesn't mean the story would necessarily be over, or that more events would not then unfold. Roman may be able to get his happy ending, but that doesn't mean the next story won't start right up afterward, throwing everything back into turmoil.

Overall, Virgil was successful in giving Roman something nice that day, specifically something to cling onto while he struggles with the reality of what will inevitably come next. A short reprieve is better than nothing, though.

Now, onto the last part...

#sanders sides analysis #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts spoilers #long post #orbs thought bubbles #alright one last one I'll do tomorrow cuz ive got another double shift day #these have been fun haha #love some good ol classic roman angst from time to time #:)

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mrsnaildood · 2 years

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The unfamiliar familiarity of a childhood friend

#brad tudabone #lloyd garmadon #me sobbing @ ninjago: GIVE LLOYD HIS FRIENDS BACK #also me: not without a good ol seasoning of angst #mydoodle

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mintytealfox · 1 month

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*inhales* Norton took the job because he has early stage of black lungs disease

;kajbdgf;ajbdg;ajbga/jgd O H NOOOOOOOOOO

are you saying what I think you're saayyiinnnggggg ?????? 😭😭😭

That he took the job cause he was dying anyway ?? HUUUHHH?? HHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH AND THAT HE IS JUST TRYING TO LIVE WHHAT LIFE HE CAN

SO MIGHT AS WELL GO OUT RICH AND FREE EVEN THOUGH IT WONT BE FOR LONG AND EVEN THOUGH IT COSTS HIS MORALS/WHO HE IS???

AND WHY HE KEEPS HARPING ABOUT 'I WILL BE THE ONE WHO LIVES LONG' CAUSE HE IS JUST CONSTANLY LYING TO HIMSELF ALL THE TIME ALREADY????

I CANNTTTTT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

NORRRTTOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

#then there is fool's gold who doesn't care and just vibing lol seems like he doesn't worry about death cause he is already experienced it #and yet here he still is living on as a big ol rock man oh my G O SH #identity v #norton campbell #idv #idv prospector #idv norton #identity v norton #ask #asks #minty speaks #minty answers #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #thank you for the angst -sips angst tea- the good good loooooll

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jupiterpiss · 2 months

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What’s up gang! Welcome back to another rant about Mac McDonald and his pathetic self.

Mac McDonald is such an amazing crafted character in my eyes because the fandom is able to take all aspects of him and make extreme angst with it. Like you got a guy who not only has fatherly issues, but also got a guy who’s a closeted gay man who really loves his friend who’s a fucking douche to him.. Butttt you also got a character who’s desperate to be seen as “cool” and a character who looks sad all the time that the entire fandom agrees he looks like a kicked puppy and-

I could go on and on and on but that will bore you. I seriously love his character for that reason, like you could look at any aspect of his life and just make him be the most miserable man out there. Like the angst.. UGHHHH dude the ANGST you can do with his character RAHHH

Hell, any sad edit or prompt or ANYTHING applies to him. Religious trauma? CHECK! Daddy issues? CHECK! Having financial issues? CHECK! Internalized homophobia? CHECKKKKK! He’s got it all, it’s the one and only MAC MCDONALDDDDD

Thank you and good night!

#mac mcdonald #pathetic loser #favpatheticloser #AMERICARAHHH #justkiddingimcanadian #anyway anyone got any food suggestions I’m fucking hungry #(your tags here)#GIVE ME AO3 FANFICS WITH THAT MAN AND LIKE ANOTHER IASIP CHARACTER I NEED SOME #iasip #need me some good ol angst

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fe-fictions · 3 months

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I may have sent this one in pre new year, but could you maybe write some Frederick angst with hypothermia (in honor of the freezing weather; the angstier the better). No pressure, of course, and happy new year!!! 🥳

(It's starting to warm up, so here's one last freezing story before we welcome a stupid hot spring U V U / )

The village in the high north of Ferox was besieged by Risen. It wasn’t a terribly difficult job to dispatch them, on their own.

It was the weather, the sheer number of civilians, and the swiftly sinking sun that was creating a whole host of dangers and threatened your plans.

Frederick tried his damndest to keep things in line, barking out echoes of your orders to those who couldn’t hear your voice over the howling winds.

The civilians who could pay attention to him and focus outside of screaming in fear at the sight of the undead, were able to get somewhat organized into a barreling crowd, rushing towards the back of the village. Getting them as far from the fight as possible was key.

“Sumia!! Get me a number on what’s left-- we’re losing daylight and I need a body count!” Your orders cracked across the field like a whip, demanding the attention of those wh ocould hear you. Frederick was fighting up ahead, ready for the battle to shift towards its end.

It was never that Risen were particularly powerful or challenging; it was always the numbers.

Whoever summoned them, they did everything in their power to tire out the Shepherds so they might pick off a few from their ranks.

It was particularly distressing between the civilians, the snow, and the never-ending hoarde of monsters.

“I’ve got two dozen left to the southeast, and another 14 to the direct south!”

Well, almost never-ending.

“That’s not bad…we can rout them quickly if we keep pushing them away from the village!!” You realized, “Frederick, I need you in the backline, protecting the gates with Stahl and Sully. I’ll take the mages, and we’ll clear the Risen in the field. If any stragglers get near-”

“They will be dispatched.” Frederick confirmed, giving you a curt nod before pulling Hebert around and galloping back into the town.

With the push to clear the remaining enemies, but made it easier to work around the rest. He charged back to the gates, rallying the civilians that were struggling to escape the hoard and shepherding them to the chief’s home, the furthest back in the village territory.

It was the safest place they could be, while the army handled the rest of the battle.

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

It wouldn’t be until two more hours before the battle finally ended. The cavaliers had successfully kept the bastards from the villagers, and had hurried as many civilians as possible into the safety of the chief’s home. It was quite cramped, but it was indeed protective of the innocent people.

“Lieutenant!!” Chrom’s voice cut across the billowing wind, frost and ice piercing any exposed skin with no mercy. The snow seemed to be getting worse, making it harder for Frederick to spot the prince…especially with the white cape and blue clothes that seemed to blend into the landscape.

“Milord! Is it done?”

“They’ve been cleared- I think we’re all right. The only problem is the villagers- we found multiple out in the field trying to escape from Risen. I don’t know how many more there are. Robin and the others went into the forest to try and recover people spotted running away, but they’ll need help.”

“They went deeper into the forest?” Frederick repeated when the Exalt crunched his way over, the snow halfway to their knees. A knot of worry lowered his brow, feeling a stirring in his chest.

He had been militant in educating you on the dangers of winter weather; especially given your Plegian constitution; the desert environment couldn’t have been more different from Ferox. You weren’t exactly built for the snow, but with education and plenty of precautions taken, you would be fine.

He wasn’t sure how well that would hold up if you were navigating the frozen tundra alone.

“How long ago did they start the search?” He demanded, looking back into the crowd milling about inside the bursting house.

“It was little over a half hour, I believe.” He thought hard, eyes narrowed against the snow. “We need to organize a search party to make sure everyone comes back safe. Are the horses handling the cold well enough to work through it a bit longer?”

“Hebert is still strong enough to carry on; I’ll inform the pegasus riders and the rest of the cavalier squadron what we need to do.”

The Shepherds quickly rallied around the Exalt when he informed them of the situation. The chieftain managed to pull together focus among his citizens, asking if anyone was missing.

A few families were missing siblings or cousins, some friends and some more prone to panic than others.

But it was fewer than a dozen. How far could they have wandered that Robin and the others weren’t back yet?

“Frederick, take my flare spell; it’s the last one I’ve got, but I assume you’ll want to wait to return until everyone’s accounted for.”

“I will make certain we have saved everyone.” Frederick promised, taking the small tome into hand and tucking it into his cloak.

The search party left the warmth they craved to return to the bitter cold. Even in those few minutes of planning their search, the wind grew much faster and biting.

It did not settle the pit in his stomach any less.

“The wind is too strong for voices to be heard over it; save your strength and don’t send up any signals unless you or the civilians you find are in immediate danger! Am I understood?!”

“Sir, yes sir!!”

And with that, they burst into the unforgiving snow once more. The knight could only hope that you were safe and healthy, returning with as many villagers as you could manage.

The alternative would be unthinkable.

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

If you were struggling with snow blindness before the storm got worse, it was completely impossible to see, now.

Between the wind whipping your hair about your face, and the ice crystals forming on your lashes, it was a miserable challenge just to put a coherent thought together.

A sliver of panic was setting in, but you were determined not to let it show. Not when you had a child in your arms, shivering violently against your chest. You held them tightly, having them underneath your coat and buttoned in to protect against the cold, but even with the woolen interior that Frederick had sewn in, you were finding it difficult to maintain either of your temperatures.

If the child had been a little older, perhaps you could’ve gone farther and gotten closer to the village before you lost sight of everything, altogether.

But there was little time to regret it. Your limbs were growing more numb by the second, and all you knew was to keep moving forward.

One of the many navigational skills Frederick had taught you was to focus on the moss on the southern side of trees; it always grew on the southern side.

…Right?

That didn’t seem right.

The fog in your brain was getting thicker. Heavier, much like your limbs. With a shaking gasp, you tried to take in more air; each breath filled your lungs with ice.

“Aaah!!”

The child’s squeal vibrated against your chest, startling you; it seemed like you’d lost your balance. With a staggering few steps, you fought to stay upright, the wind beating into your body making it far more difficult than it should ever be.

“S-sorry…sorry…” You mumbled, tightening your grip on the little one. At least, you thought you did. You told your fingers to press into their small body, but…you weren’t sure if that mental command had traveled to your hands.

You couldn’t feel them anymore.

The pain of your struggle onward was getting harder to focus on. The numbness was worse. You kept apologizing. The word “sorry” left your mouth again…and again…

Where was the village? No…where were the trees? It was all so white…so blinding…

“Robin!!”

You felt the child jolt in your arms; someone had called your name. It must be loud, because the child started squirming, shouting back.

It was hard to hear even that much, though you could vaguely feel the vibrations of their voice against your chest.

“Gods, Robin!! What the hells happened?!”

You kept hearing a voice, but you didn’t recognize it. There was a flash of brown hair that came into view, and a big, blob that appeared to be walking on four sticks.

The young one squirmed from your arms, just as a pair of large hands came to your shoulders. You couldn’t feel them squeeze, but you felt the world suddenly stop.

They must have caught you. There was a frantic, muffled noise in front of you…was that their voice? Gods, you were so tired.

That was just about the last thing that crossed your mind, before the blinding white tilted into darkness.

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

Hebert was whinnying with great displeasure, having to go back into the punishing cold. Frederick understood the feeling well, but he was far more worried about locating his missing wife.

It hadn’t been long after he’d prepared the Shepherds for the search before he heard the panicked wails of a young mother; her little boy hadn’t come back.

He’d been separated in the panic, trying to get all the civilians away from the battle. He was too young to be out there alone; no way he could find his way back in all the madness.

That, and the storm was so bad now, that little one would surely be dead if he wasn’t found.

Frederick prayed to every god he could think of that you had found the boy, and the pair of you were quickly on your way back to the village.

“Onward, Hebert!! Faster!!” He snapped the reins, pushing as fast as he could go. It was a grueling process; the hopes of spotting the black coat in this sea of ice were becoming dashed with every passing moment.

After ten minutes, there was still no luck. Frederick’s heartbeat quickened, the dread creeping in with every slam of Hebert’s hooves into the ground.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Every second you were out there, the chances of survival were slipping away. They were going to run out of time to get you and return to the village.

If things got any worse, they’d have to go back empty hande.

He searched the ky for a flare, flistened for someone shouting they’d found you. But of coufres, no signs came to suggest you were found.

That would be far too easy.

Frederick dug his heels in, prssing further into the white and prayed for your safety.

He bore the brunt of the ice for twelve more minutes…when he finally had a breakthrough.

A single, dark blot against the horizon.

It was moving slowly, moving away from him…but it was no doubt a person. He He pressed forward despite Hebert’s whinnied protests, the wind picking up speed and blowing at the poor beasts’ side.

“A little farther Hebert. We’re almost- you!! You, there!!”

He shouted out at the sight of the distant figure. They did not seem to acknowledge his voice.

“Robin?! Is that you??” He shouted louder. The distance was quickly closing, and the blot turned into what was without a doubt your coat. The patterns on the sleeves were purple; there was only one person it could possibly be.

“H-help!! Help, please!!”

A small body was running towards him, forcing Hebert to a stop. Frederick quickly closed the distance with his dismount, finding a small child trudging towards him with a complete lack of balance and coordination. The poor thing must have had his limbs half frozen.

“You must be the child that went missing.” Frederick found it hard to speak over the weather’s howls, but the boy acknowledged him, welcoming the knight’s hands as he lifted him up, placing him on Hebert’s saddle. Quickly, he unclasped his cloak, draping it around the boy. He seemed lucid and sound, and looked warmer than he would’ve thought.

“I-I don’t need much help-- it’s her. She needs it.” The boy pointed back to the figure who he’d looked away from.

The figure that had turned slowly, clearly confused.

The fear struck him like a lightning bolt.

“Gods, Robin!!” He sprinted to you, grasping your shoulders. You didn’t acknowledge him at all. "What the hells happened??"

Your eyes were glassy; skin pale, lips blue. Well past blue.

You were on You looked on the verge of death.

“It’s all right, I’ve got you.” He bit back the panic, fumbling the flare from his pocket and launching it into the sky. The magic made the bright red sigil impossible to miss.

It was the one saving grace they had.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ve got the boy. You did brilliantly.” He said, tearing his scarf from his neck and wrapping it around your neck.

It bothered him more when you didn’t react to his actions.

“Robin?”

You blinked, a slurred “Sorry” falling from your lips. Then your knees buckled. A strangled noise escaped him when you suddenly fell, the whole of your body weight coming against his hands. He nearly dropped you into the snow.

“Dammit…!” He growled, finding the strength to lift you to his chest, carrying you back to his restless horse. The others would arive soon- surely they’d seen the flare by now, hovering bright and shining in the sky.

He had found you. He was bringing you to safety…but this was only the beginning of teh battle.

With a twist of his heart, he turned Hebert around and started the race back to teh village.

This was a battle you could still lose.

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

It was a merc that some Shepherds had met them halfway back to the village; Frederick had you wrapped up in the cloak with the boy, trying desperately to retain some of your body heat. When Sully and Maribelle caught up to him, they had her pulled from Hebert and placed into a village cart, its wheels carefully grafted to handle the snow far better than poor Hebert’s hooves could.

It mdae the return much easier; Maribelle was quick in administering first aide, focusing on yourr injuries and the frostbite nipping into your skin even as the ice turned her perfect curls into a frantic mop.

“She’s got hypothermia,” Maribelle deduced as they rushed through the front gates. “She’s losing her body emperature fast- she needs more than what I can do, and she needs emergency medics, now!!”

There was little more that needed to be said.

Frederick handed the boy off to his weeping parents, but had little tim eto accept their thanks; you were already being pulled frmo the cart and rushed to the cleric’s housewith the SHepherds’ best healers in tow.

He followed after them, Chrom and Ricken rushing with armfuls of blankets and enchanted stones to warm you quickly.

“Put her there, Frederick!” Lissa’s hand pointed to the pallet of blankets all but thrown together on the floor. The few beds were already filled with a mix of injured soldier and civilian alike.

You could only make do with what you had.

Frederick grit his teeth, following the command and lowering you carefully onto the blankets. His gloves were soaked through when he withdrew; your clothes were sopping wet.

“We need privacy-- Chrom, get those sheets up on the lines, here; fasten them so no one can look in.”

The prince did not dawdle, handing off the thicker blankets he and Ricken brought and started to fasten up the sheets around the clothes line hastily tacked up during the rush to protect the tactician’s privacy.

Frederick well understood what was happening, and had already begun to remove your clothes; the coat, sweater, scarf and tunic were difficult to peel away, but mercifully, your underclothes were not beyond rescue.

As soon as you were out from under your layers, he had you bundled tightly beneath the blankets, pressing the warming stones to your palms and your feet, and another to your chest.

He fought to suppress the anguish in his heart when he saw the tips of your fingers and toes had grown discolored. Had hypothermia already set in?

Was it already too...

“Frederick, armor off, now!!”

“Yes, milady!”

The buckles were being undone just as Lissa darted to the floor beside you, strategically speaking healing spells over the more dire areas in need of repair.

Your breathing had yet to steady, and your pulse was still weak. Maribelle looked utterly frantic, working opposite the princess to try and stabilize your temperature.

Frederick’s armor was fully off, clattering off of him in lieu of his carefully setting it on its stand. There would be little time for procedure. Not when you needed him.

“Your clothes, are they-?”

“They are dry, milady. If it is not enough body heat quickly enough, I will take them off. Give me the order when you must.” His words were clipped, the knight wasting not a second longer before lifting the blankets and joining you beneath them.

Gingerly, cautiously, you were pulled into him, making sure not to hold you in a way that would inhibit the healers from getting to you.

He cradled your head to his neck, your nose like ice against his skin. You were still so cold…this was surely a nightmare, wasn’t it?

“Stay with her, just like that. Any loss of body heat could be deadly for her, at this point.” Maribelle instructed in a grave tone.

Frederick squeezed you closer. The thundering of his heart was deafening in his ears…surely, you could hear it.

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

The first thought you had when your thoughts finally came out of the darkness was that you were very, very warm.

That wouldn’t make any sense, considering the last place you were was in the middle of a raging blizzard.

Then your second thought was that you couldn’t really move. It felt like you were being held by someone. Was it the little boy? The child that-

Oh, gods, where was he?

“Ungh…”

You couldn’t quite form words, yet. Your mind was filled with fog. And your head hurt. Well, really, a lot of you hurt. As your consciousness started to come through the grogginess, you felt a shift around you.

“Robin?”

Your vision was still blurred, despite rapid blinks attempting to clarify what you were looking at. Or rather, what you were looking for. All you could really see was the knitting of a thick, dark blue tunic…it smelled quite familiar.

“Robin, can you hear me? Are you- Milady, I think she’s coming to.”

That sounded like Frederick’s voice. The hands that were on you retreated from your back, one gingerly cupping your cheek, tilting your face up.

Your vision went from the dark blue haziness into a much brighter, warmer shift of light. You found yourself looking up, into the blurry vision of your husband’s face.

You’d recognize that cowlick anywhere.

“Robin…you’re finally awake…can you hear me? A-are you…?” He sounded so fragile. What could’ve happened that would have him so worried?

It did bother you, but there was a much more important matter at hand.

“Boy…t-the…the boy…”

“Thank the gods.” He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, holding you tighter. He pressed you to his chest, his other hand threading into your hair. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the grimace on his lips. “You’re all right…!”

“Fred…the child, he’s-”

“He’s all right. You saved him.” He spoke softly, his voice vibrating pleasantly along your skin. “I found you both, just in time. He’s with his parents, and you’re in the cleric’s home.”

The cleric’s home.

“Lissa’s nearby. She’ll come to check on you in a moment. You were…it was touch and go for a while.”

Oh. That explained the tremor in his fingertips.

“What happened?”

“When I found you…you were unresponsive. The boy had actually run from you to come and get me. It was right when I’d gotten to you, that you collapsed. Your hands…you were frostbitten, and you’d been walking the wrong way, and…and you were delirious.”

You raised your hands to his chest, fingers curled into his tunic. They did not seem to be frostbitten any longer, at least. They were stiff and sore, but they weren’t discolored.

“I don’t remember much, I’m afraid.” Your voice was hoarse, despite the best attempts to clear your throat. Frederick stroked your hair, an attempt at comfort for the both of you. “But I’m…so glad you found me.”

“I would not have lost you to the winter.” He murmured, “I refused to. I know how much you hate the cold.”

“Ha.” You pressed your face into his chest, snuggling as close as you could. His hand tightened on your waist, and you were acutely aware that his calloused fingers were pressed to your skin. “Um…am I…?”

“Your clothes were utterly soaked through. We had to undress you, but rest assured, it is just the two of us. Lissa was kind enough to prepare some privacy for you while treating you.”

“I see.” You were too tired to be embarrassed. Given the circumstances, you weren’t surprised that was the course of action taken. “Well…thank you. For coming to my aid.”

“Good wife, I will not hesitate to do so. Just as you do the same for me.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You curled your arms around his back, hugging him as tightly as you could.

You pushed your leg between his, all but wrapping yourself around your husband with the energy you could spare.

He had been so worried. You could feel the remnants of the stress in his form, how he had yet to fully relax despite cradling you so closely.

It was his favorite place to be, in the best of circumstances. Having you close in his embrace was a luxury that you had not been afforded since the Plegians first struck.

Perhaps being put in mortal danger wasn’t so bad, if this is what awaited you on the other side. Though you were careful not to speak of such a thing while your husband doted on you, remarking here and there about how utterly frightened he’d been at the thought you’d been lost in the snow.

Instead you simply lavished in his warmth, rising from your delightfully cozy nest to be examined by a tearful Lissa, and later to enjoy a bowl of hot stew lovingly prepared by your relieved comrades.

It would be a few days before you were back on your feet, but Frederick was with you every step of the way to make sure you recovered fully (and you were sure to give him as much physical comfort as possible in that time…there couldn’t have been enough hugs and kisses in the world until he was confident you were all right).

#frederick #robin #fe 13 #fe awakening #fire emblem awakening #fe: awakening #fe-fictions #fe fictions #fredrobin #Frederick x robin #f!mu #f!robin #fem!robin #angst #hurt and comfort #blizzard prompt #we love some good ole hurt and comfort for Mr. freddybear #good to be back #this was way longer than I had planned it to be but you KNOW how I get with Frederick ;;;;

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