#Ros Vortalis/Holland Vosijk

[ravencromwell]

Ros Vortalis trans headcanons

There are some remarkable trans Holland fics and headcanons, but can we talk about Ros Vortalis, whom all of his friends simply call Vor? Who, even when he’s _dying Holland calls Vor, to be expected, but also Vortalis which’s so much longer than Ros.

A bit of googling informs me Ros is “protector” in German, which’s chef’s kiss one hundred/ten no notes V.E. But it’s also, more frequently, a diminutive of Rosalind. Disclaimer before I start these that I respect and love! the headcanons of Makt as fairly gender nonrestrictive, with power being more of a defining factor of treatment. My Makt, however, is more complicated, with gender and gender transitions being imperfect but still a site where joy can be created, much like the rest of White London existence. Putting the rest of these beneath a cut with that in mind because as a trans person, I know some days I can’t handle transness as careful complication to be navigated and don’t want to inflict it on anyone unprepared. (Though, I promise! there’re fluffy as fuck nsfw Vor/Holland and Vor/friends headcanons in here to cut the angst.)

Ros retains a shortened form of his given namefor business purposes within the Shal—we know Shal means “market” in Red London, and I tend to think it means the same in White, such that when Holland calls him a “thug from the Shal” he’s referring to Vor being in the merchant/smuggling business. When he transitions, he’s relatively young and honestly to flagrantly demand a name change would be seen by too many as blood in the water. His greatest focus, always, is Makt rather than his personal happiness and he’d rather be burdened with the “nickname” Ros and be capable of rising in the Shal in service of becoming king.

There’re two ways of transitioning: the easiest and least painful is utilizing a spell similar to Astrid’s with Lila and stealing a face and voice. But that spell fades with death and though Vor understands that his body is likely destined for desecration once he’s gone as Makt’s people drain its blood and magic, there’s still this stubborn demand that they destroy a body without the face that made him shudder every time his child self caught a glimpse (he is so grateful for a lack of mirrors in Makt for much of his young adulthood.)

So he chooses the harder, excruciating method: finds a bone magician to permanently reshape his body. Session after session, over months traveling abroad on a ship with only the open sea and crew to hear him scream himself hoarse.

The first time they share a bed, Holland strokes along the broadened shoulders, runs fingers along the scars on his chest—eyes fixed on Vor’s all the while— and murmurs: “If they did not believe you would hold the throne, they were fools.”

“I’m flattered.” He’s bright-eyed, with that deep, rolling-sea laugh.

“After this, very little would stop you.” Fools have marveled at the extent of spells across his body, and inwardly he howls in hysterical laughter because there is very little to dull pain in Makt, and the shipboard pain was so vast it made everything else feel like pinpricks by comparison. He’s never bedded someone who would know that as intimately as the man who had done his damndest to use that same magic in stopping Vor’s fist before it connected with his face, and the admiration uncoils something deep in his chest. “Sometimes I’m certain I can’t keep it. One moment it will be there and then not.” He manages a farse of a smile “Foolish, after all these decades, but such is the weakness of your future king, Holland.”

“Lucky you would have an Antari to put it back, then.”

By the time he returned to London, voice rumbling deep from an expanded chest, people understood quickly to use “Ros” with the proper pronouns or see just how effective the runes on his hands were. But well…Ros is an easier shirt than Rosalind to slip into, but it will never sit comfortably. As he develops allies, he finds that Vor and Vortalis fit easier. And it becomes a good gauge for trust. Those who understand implicitly how painful his given name is and respect that, are people worth keeping. It becomes easier, as fewer and fewer people survive who remember Rosalind.

There are far too many moments to count when former friends or lovers try to use “Ros” as a weapon, with a little smirk that says: “You never said we _couldn’t call you that.” And he’s deeply glad he made a relatively small name fuss and provided only a small chink in his armor. (Those sorts of people tend, inevitably, to cause the use of his knives. As though letting them close and showing kindness is an invitation for open season. But such are the risks in Makt, and he is a man who craves touch and closeness. What good to craft the ideal body only to never have it appreciated. The way Holland simply…withdrew from people after Talya is something almost unfathomable. Whether they’re the closest of friends or both king and night and! king and beloved—which’s pretty much always in my head—there’s a deep, profound ache that he could never touch Holland enough to make up for too many years alone.

It’s the dimmest flicker every time he sees the “knight” and “Antari” masks slip, when Holland leans against his shoulder or puts his head in Vor’s lap, eyes half-closing at fingers in his hair. But, simply because the task is nigh on impossible, doesn’t mean he won’t do his best. Vor touches Holland Vosijk a hundred thousand times in those two years of rule—and so, so many more if they both survive—and is so very, very grateful he could take the touches the best of his lovers and allies offered over the last thirty years. (On a slashy front, can we also just talk about how, as a couple, there’s an incomparable way arousal and awe intertwine for Vor _every time Holland reaches out and shows affection: a kiss against his temple as Vor lets their foreheads rest together; a hand moving slow and easy down his back. To be trusted enough for the most guarded man he’s ever met—it took Vor _months to convince him to kill Gorst and he’s never had to work so hard or wanted so desperately for someone to say yes in his life—to touch him is such a valuable thing that he has immense responsibility not to break.)

Also in couple’s verse: If Vor has a small regret, it’s that the bone magicians are far more skilled with outward, above-the-waist presentation—because the best of them have not only done this for trans people, but for criminals etc. seeking a disguise. Thankfully, they had no trouble cutting him open to ensure he would never be with child—he doesn’t have the vocabulary for dysphoria, but the idea of his stomach rounded and heavy is one of the few things that can make him viciously soul-deep terrified. But the below the waist equipment well, it’s not a magic Makt has the luxury of learning.

By the time he meets Holland, it’s the very faintest of regrets: he has a collection of strap-ons for when he and a lover want to indulge in that particular fantasy—and is comfortable enough in his skin it’s an indulgence and not a requirement. It’s beautiful to watch lovers slide to their knees and take them in their hands or mouths or slide inside and watch them arch with pleasure. But oh, oh he wishes he could _feel it. It’s not a complaint worth voicing, and honestly after he becomes king, there’s very little time to indulge.

But one day, Holland comes back, smelling of flowers holding a box, tells the guards to wait at the end of the hall because he has crucial business from “the other London” for the king’s ears alone, which has Vor intrigued and concerned because he hasn’t come close to asking Holand to send a message. But before the concern can swell to anything beyond a flicker, he sees a flush so faint anyone would miss it who wasn’t watching. (Even before the Danes, Holland held his feelings and desires in an iron grip; Vor learned early in sharing a bed that Holland loathed the idea of being heard by those not his lovers when losing control: not merely a discomfort that could add spice to an evening, but viscerally, the way it would take everything Vor had to turn his back on an armed opponent.) This is pleasure, not business and he flicks his fingers in a silent command before they can even turn to look.

"Go get yourselves some dinner,“ he says for good measure, "If there is a foe Holland cannot protect me from, there’s little more bodies can do.”

When he opens the box…there are the usual straps but the cock. The cock feels like _skin. “The Arnesians-” and oh, there’s still so much contempt in those words “With their infinite supply of magic have learned to transmute. From earth to bone, and then something softer. There is an illusion for the Arnesians who want to forget the straps.” There were layers upon layers beneath that statement: neither of them wished, at least then, to go begging for scraps, but to _take a little of the bounty Arnes had hoarded,

“_Yes!”

Neither of them know how the illusion works: it is as mysterious as the fireworks Holland has seen that fool his eyes into certainty dragons fly across the unbearably vivid Arnesian sky. It does not matter; in those moments when Holland’s mouth is hot on skin, Vor is utterly, entirely certain Holland is swallowing down the cock he has always had.

It’s almost too much, leaves him speechless for the first time in decades, has Holland scrambling up and onto the bed even as his eyes are still glassy from watching the king come undone to wrap himself around Vor’s back until the world comes into focus again. “Is it only good once or-” he asks, finally and Holland’s smirk is wicked.

When he’s upending the Ost table and coughing up blood—, so much, too much kajt I hope Holland can take the throne because whoever these bastards are they can’t rule, the thing he clings to: more than “Stay with me"—though he _tries—, more than the raw panic in Holland _swearing—is the name. _Vortalis, he says when the table overturns—though it would be such a forgivable mistake to use Ros. Vor, he says while chanting stay and one of his blood spells. He will die as who he made himself, not as he was born.

The three threads of coherence for Holland are the blood spell. That Vor _has to stay. And that if he cannot be enough to stop this, he _will not let Vor die hearing him use the wrong name.

In verses where Vor lives, they both know the "thank you” when he wakes is not for the healing, though to be alive is a joy.

#Holland Vosijk #Ros Vortalis #Ros Vortalis/Holland Vosijk #[to anyone who saw this before I could add the read more fuck I'm sorry I haven't posted on here for too long and how you do everything wit #screen readers is different now] #queer stuff #my meta #shades of magic #please anyone who would like to incorporate any of these into anything Shades related do so gleefully #seeing any of these floating around in fic would make my fucking year #from the moment! all Vor's friends called him by his surname I wanted to write him as trans #so this is my gleefully self-indulgent Christmas present to myself #I'm taking the anxiety out of fic with an essay/meta and fic hybrid I first saw the brilliant #badassbutterfly1987 #use on a different topic a few days ago *bows to this ship's captain who's supplied a shockingly wonderful amount of content solo #and is watering my crops with current drabble collection* #it lets me not worry about producing a perfect product while indulging my love of dialogue and is kinda glorious #(for the record. askbox/messenger's always open to talk anything in this fandom #especially White London and/or these two whose dynamic has sent me into the hardest hyperfixation since I don't even know when

[badassbutterfly1987]

I was scrolling the wiki (as one does) and was reminded of this bit of trivia: "Vortalis is two decades older than Holland, although his exact age is unknown."

Okay so: if Kell is 12 and Holland is about 30 when they first meet, that makes Vortalis around 50 in the flashback scenes.

Meaning even if he still looks good and healthy, he'll probably be showing his age. Hair starting to gray, bones starting to ache, slowing down. Not getting any younger.

Do you think that bothered Holland? His partner was already relying on his strength to keep White London in line, but now there was also the sense of a time limit. They aren't likely to grow old together or moving at the same pace. Vortalis has enough energy and passion to make it easy to forget, but would that remain true in a decade?

And then it turns out not to matter: they only rule together for two years before the Danes end that.

#shades of magic #thoughts #holland vosijk #ros vortalis #they make me sad #do antari age weird? i feel like i read that it slows down but not sure #holland spent more years mourning him than knowing him #and that haunts me too #how little time they had

[starsailores]

just thought about holland and vortalis while listening to king and lionheart by of monsters and men.

i am in severe agony

#was trying to play a game when the song came on and i had the revelation. criminal that it was not already in my hv playlist #holland vosijk #ros vortalis #shades of magic #this is also omam propaganda by the way. band of all time and they fit him so well

[ghoulorghost]

Headcanon about Antari bloodtype

The type of blood a person has, is determined by the presence or absence of certain antigens.

Antigens are substances that, if foreign to the body trigger an immune response.

There are over 600 different antigens across more than 36 blood group systems that may be present or absent on our red blood cells.

You have a ‘rare’ blood type if your blood is missing an antigen which is common to most, or if it has an antigen which most don’t have. 

Plasma contains antibodies which fight infections and antigens of the same type.

The 4 main types of blood are determined by the presence or absence of two antigens, A and B, on the surface of the red blood cells. This classification is done by the A,B,O blood group system.

The bloodtype A has the A antigen on the surface of it's red blood cells and the B antibody in it's plasma.

The bloodtype B has the B antigen on the surface of it's red blood cells and the A antibody in it's plasma.

The bloodtype AB has both the A and B antigens on the surface of it's red blood cells and neither A or B antibodies in it's plasma.

The bloodtype O has neither A or B antigens on the surface of it's red blood cells, but both the A and B antibodies in it's plasma.

The second most important classification after the A,B,O blood group system is the Rhesus blood group system, with over 50 antigens.

One of these Rh antigens is the Rh D antigen, the presence of which determines a Rh positive bloodtype and the absence of which determines a Rh negative bloodtype.

The 8 most common bloodtypes are as follows : A+, A-, B+, B-, O+, O-, AB+, AB-.

RhNull blood on the other hand has none of the Rh antigens. It is the result of certain mutations.

It is extremely rare, with fewer than 50 individuals known to have RhNull blood in the 50 years after it's discovery, and only 9 active donors.

I associated it with Antari based on this quote:

"He was, after all, Antari. And Antari could speak to blood. To life. To magic itself. The first and final element, the one that lived in all and was of none."

RhNull blood can be donated to anybody, especially useful to people with rare Rh antigens, following only the A,B,O blood group system donation rules and that's why the term Golden Blood is used for it. On the other hand, people with this blood type cannot receive transfusions from anybody but other people with the RhNull bloodtype, following the same donation rules.

Magic is not hereditary, so I like to assume that after developing Antari magic they lose the Rh antigens through mutation.

And since I couldn't help myself, I assigned every character I kept track of, a bloodtype.

Most of the bloodtypes I assigned were based on my own interpretrations, but I did my best to mind the rules by which they are inherited.

GRAY LONDON

Barron-  AA+

Ned Tuttle - AB-

RED LONDON

Maxim Maresh - BO+

Emira Maresh - OO-

Rhy Maresh - OO+

Alucard Emery - AO+

Nadiya Maresh - AB+

Ren Maresh - AO+

Emery - AA+

Berras Emery - AA+      

Anisa Emery - AO+

Sol Rosec - AB+

Oren Rosec - BO+

Hanara Rosec - AA-

Serival Ranek - BO+

Mirin Ranek - BO+

Rosana Ranek - OO-

Tesali Ranek - OO-

Kisimyr Vasrin - OO-

Tieren Serense - OO+

Nero - AO+

Ezril Nasaro - OO+

Bex Galevans - OO+

Calin Trell - BO+

Falori - AB+

Calla -  BB+

WHITE LONDON

Ros Vortalis - OO+

Talya - AO+

Alox Vosijk - AA+

Athos Dane - AB+

Astrid Dane - AB-

Nasi - AA-

Lark - AO-

Beloc - AO+

ANTARI

Delilah Bard - AO RhNull (was AO-)

Kell Maresh - OO RhNull (was OO-)

Holland Vosijik - OO RhNull (was OO-)

Ojka - BB RhNull (was BB-)

Kosika - AB RhNull (was AB-)

#adsom #the fragile threads of power #fragile threads of power #ve schwab #fragile threads of power spoilers #the fragile threads of power spoilers #holland vosijk #kell maresh #rhy maresh #lila bard #alucard emery

[beebrainedstudios]

Hey, can we get more Modern AU or Coffeeshop AU for ADSOM?

Sure! I don’t have a Coffeeshop AU, but I do have a Modern AU. I’m planning to draw some more for it soon, but in the meantime, a few more random things:

Talya’s betrayal still happens and still involves a stabbing.

Holland often has headphones with him, but rarely listens to anything with them; they just help with the overstimulation he’s prone to.

Both of Kell’s parents are criminals- his mother was a serial arsonist, and his father was her accomplice who was also known for gambling. He was taken from their care early on and doesn’t remember them or pursue learning about them until he’s an adult.

Kell collects a lot of different things, but he has a particular fondness for enamel pins and music boxes. His apartment is somewhat cluttered with random stuff too.

Lila rides a sleek black motorcycle instead of a car; Kell thinks this is the coolest thing he’s ever seen and often takes rides with her if she’ll let him. Her helmet has little horns on it, and one of her first anniversary gifts to Kell was his own helmet.

Maxim has reading glasses.

The Maresh parents helped Alucard find his own place after being kicked out.

Maris owns an antique shop.

Nokil (Maxim’s father from the Steel Prince comics) is still alive and visits often; Rhy loves his grandfather, Kell is fairly shy around him due to his abrasive personality, and the family as a whole is slightly uncomfortable when he’s present due to he and Maxim’s rocky relationship.

Osaron is a local cryptid that actually exists; he lives in the woods near the city and is known as “the Black King.” He’s terrifying in person but is fairly harmless, and Athos swears he once lured him into his garage with a pack of M&Ms. Recently, he has allegedly been spotted with another, smaller creature that is similar in appearance- locals have dubbed this second cryptid “Vitari.” This second creature is significantly more aggressive and has been known to chase cars.

Kell had an intense angsty teenager phase and had a tendency to act out for a while. Maxim and Emira tried to be as supportive as they could during this time, but it was made more difficult by the fact that Rhy thought angry Kell was super cool and would actively encourage it. Kell is extremely embarrassed at the memory of this time but will often indulge in interests from then when he’s in the mood, such as rock music and more punk-like clothes. 

Lila lives with Barron at the bar (she doesn’t work there though) most of the time when she’s not travelling. She acts like it’s strictly a practical decision, but she does care about him and worries for his health (he’s had troubles with his heart), so she’s secretly relieved to have the chance to keep an eye on him. That said, even when she’s not travelling she spends very little time there. 

Ned works at the bar, and Lila will gladly stab anyone who looks at him wrong- she gets annoyed with him very easily, but genuinely thinks he’s a good person and appreciates that he helps Barron out.

One year Astrid pretty much disappeared around Halloween. Everyone assumed she’d simply received a commission of some sort that was taking all of her time, so when she gives them all some invitations to join her for a haunted house they think nothing of it. Turns out she was one of the scare actors, and she just wanted to see what everyone looked like terrified. This becomes an annual tradition among the gang when she isn’t too busy.

Holland, Astrid, and Athos all have matching necklaces with wooden pendants made by Vortalis. Athos’s pendant is a snake, Astrid’s is an ermine, and Holland’s is a badger. 

Ojka is an actress that Holland has worked with a couple of times.

Athos has a pet hognose snake named Ladon and a pinktoe tarantula named Athena, Kell has a crested gecko named Crumpet, Alucard (of course) has Esa the cat, and Holland is considering getting a tortoise. Emira has a small Maltipoo named Lovey that hates Maxim and Rhy (Kell can get away with being near him since he used to give him a lot of treats). They are working on fixing his temperament, but none of them are very good at dog training. Vortalis also has two resident dogs, Shuck and Buck, and will often foster another one.

Hope you enjoyed these! Thanks for the ask!

#adsom #adsom modern au #a darker shade of magic #shades of magic #ve schwab #kell maresh #rhy maresh #lila bard #holland vosijk #alucard emery #the dane twins #athos dane #astrid dane #maxim maresh #emira maresh #ros vortalis #ojka #maris #ned tuttle #barron #osaron #vitari #talya #ask bee #bee asks

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Five sentence fic starter:

Holland looked down at the whip he held in his bloody hands.

Holland looked down at the whip he held in one hand, frowning. There was a spot of blood just on the knuckle of his thumb, pale and faded pinkish red.

The silence drew out, and behind him his king said, "Get on with it, Holland, we need more details. All we've gotten so far is mewling."

Holland glanced over his shoulder, the lamplight flickering dimly off his black Antari eye. "This sort of torture rarely results in true answers, Ros," He said, with a sigh. "A mewling confession to crimes never committed is far more likely."

Ros Vortalis gave a hearty laugh and clapped him on the back, nearly forcing Holland to stumble forward off-balance. "Holland, my friend-"

Am I your friend? Holland wondered. By now, with all we've done? Or merely still a tool in your hands like any other?

"-it's not the truth I am interested in," Ros continued, his eyes on the heaving muscles, the running blood, of the tall, muscular faded blond man stretched on the rack before them. "But in making a point. We'll get information, true or not, and if he cooperates, we'll parade him in chains to live out the rest of his short life in the hanging cage. If he doesn't, we'll put his body there to be pecked by the crows. Northern city gates."

The man hanging on the rack made a sound of low despair. Holland ignored it. "North, your Majesty?"

"North," Ros said firmly. "When the Danes come, they'll see that we will not bend to their invasion. You are my sword, Holland - but I am the hand that wields it. Give him ten more."

Holland's fingers tightened around the wrapped leather handle of the whip.

A tool, then, still, He thought, and tried not to feel a strange pang of disappointment as he pulled his arm back to bring the next blow. He had never been anything but a weapon to be fought over, controlled, or destroyed. This was as close to friendship as he had ever come, as close to honest partnership as he would ever find.

So why was he still disappointed?

He barely heard the man on the rack scream when the whip came down again. The hand holding it no longer even felt like his own.

-

Tagging my ADSOM crew: @pinkcupboardwitch @orchidscript @dr-dendritic-trees @muffinworry @orange-cheetah

#adsom #adsom fanfic #fanfiction #shades of magic #holland vosijk #ros vortalis #whump #whipping tw #blood tw #shades of magic fanfiction #white london

[lumau]

Rating: G Fandom: Shades of Magic Cinderella AU based on the 1970's movie Tři oříšky pro Popelku/Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel/Three wishes for Cinderella and the original Grimm's brothers fairytale Aschenputtel/Cinderella  ~✾~ Ön vejr tök... The story goes...

In a SoM / Cinderella story Holland has to be Cinderella, of course! A big part of the cast makes an appearance in various roles. And in true fairytale fashion, there will be villains, magic and a big happy end. ~✾~

Also - Happy Birthday Holland! I'm pretty sure Holland never got to experience an actual good birthday, so I wanted to post something with a happy end for the occasion.

#adsom fanfic #cinderella au #shades of magic #fairytale #holland vosijk #kell maresh #rhy maresh #lila bard #alucard emery #maxim maresh #emira maresh #tieren serense #ros vortalis #talya #nasi #ojka #osaron #astrid dane #athos dane #ve schwab #brothers grimm

[darlingfoe]

An extremely vague, spoiler free snippet from a Shades of Magic fic I have been working on that I am excited to pick up again. 💖😏

#am writing #writings #vo writes things #holland vosijk #Ros Vortalis #fabdom: a darker shade of magic #A Darker Shade of Magic

[pinkcupboardwitch]

10: “Please don’t make me socialize.”

* * *

“You said it yourself,” Holland says uncomfortably. It’s not just nerves choking him; the new, fashionable, tight cravat has its share of blame too. And too late to discreetly retie it now, they’re in plain view of the ballroom. “I’m better at intimidating people than…than diplomacy.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re bad at it,” Vortalis says with laudable warmth, if not conviction. Holland gives him a pained look.

“Please don’t make me socialize.”

Vor hides his laugh behind a cough. “I can’t be everywhere at once. Think of this as practice.” 

“Practice.” 

Holland keeps staring at him, unimpressed, until Vortalis gives in, ballroom formality be damned, and laughs out loud.

“Never lose your poker face, Holland, you’re a joy.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean right this moment -”

“Mm.”

* * *

“Please don’t make me socialize,” Athos will say a year and a day later as Astrid fixes his cravat, and Holland -

Holland’s face does not change. 

#adsom #holland vosijk #ros vortalis #pink creates

[incorrectsom]

Athos: But you... Vortalis might actually listen to you. You had that weird thing together... whaddaya call it?

Holland: FRIENDSHIP. It's called FRIENDSHIP. You monster.

#shades of magic #incorrect shades of magic quotes #c: athos dane #c: holland vosijk #c: ros vortalis #s: lumberjanes

[ravencromwell]

Character headcanons for Ros Vortalis?

--Cats. In the Shal, Ros Vortalis was terribly fond of stray cats. Dimitri Moroz (best second, he ever had even if the boy was barely old enough to shave; he was _hungry for the work, for the position and that made all the difference) used to despair they'd all get murdered via the cat flaps. Not that he was fool enough to start collecting them, but Makt was cold and he'd seen enough cats aboard ship they were good luck and damn it no harm in leaving a cat flap in the kitchen with a bowl of milk. He sealed the flaps before making a serious play at Gorst's guards. Enough bloodshed on his hands without adding strays and Gorst is absolutely the sort that would. Kept it up just fine as king too, until Dimitri unceremoniously dumped two of the filthiest specimens on his floor. Thin and fierce, already with their scars with blazingly curious yellow eyes. And by the time he's signed 'damn it, Demi, take them back' the new leader of the Shal has flashed a positively wicked grin and turned on his heel and Vor knows by the time he coaxes them from underneath the bed and dresser he'll be well out of the damn castle. It's fine, Holland's on patrol in the Shal tomorrow he can take them back. Only...there's something oddly comforting upon waking to find one feline on his feet and the other in a ball on the second pillow, yellow eyes blazing into the dark. A guard-cat's not going to stop a damn thing; that's why he has an Antari knight, for Crow's sake but it's comforting nonetheless and so he calls for one of the servants to bring some raw fish. And one of the kitchen maids flashes white teeth against the hints of brown the city hasn't entirely leached from her skin yet. It's the widest smile he's seen from the servants since his coronation and says it's good luck to have cats again after the old king didn't want them taking scraps off the table. And so, he tells her to take them if she's inclined; he's no time to look after cats as king. Which makes them not! his cats, even if there is a flap in the door of the royal bedchamber--they'll keep the castle awake with their yowling if I keep them out Holland. Holland, who's not running away from every romantic impulse he ever harbored, will just go on being casually fond of the cats. [By the time Holland comes out of the worst of those first few days with the Danes, he hears no rumors of cats in the castle. The one time one of the servants broaches getting a cat for the vermin problem, Athos yawns and says: "So long as it doesn't see us. Cats, unlike some I could name," with a terribly sweet smile in Holland's direction "run when they see us coming. Cleverer than hounds, I suppose." It is a foolish whimsy, but after that, Holland finds himself stopping on the rare occasions a cat moves in his direction. Scriching their ears is nice, as so few things are these days and once or twice, one has lingered longer, purring and he can't help but wonder... the kitties are fine, is what I'm saying. :]

--One of the first bits of family history Vor learns about Holland is his mother. "Can you not?" Holland says the third time they've fucked, when irritation has overcome his better judgment as Vortalis reaches for a cigar. "In the bed, at least." Ros Vortalis, who has pointed people to the door without a moment's hesitation for kvetching over his cigars--he's earned his scars, surviving this city and he'll damn well enjoy his vices for his trouble--thinks he might be in deeper than he would like when he finds himself asking: "Care to give me a reason?"

(This had been easy once with Talya, like lancing a wound or sharing burdens, but a decade of silence leaves him wishing Vortalis had just told him to go jump into the Sijlt or his common sense had stilled his tongue. But he supposes he owes an answer since he's the one asking) "We slept in one bed, my mother and brother and I. We never got smoke from the Sho dens out of the sheets when it was in her clothes and hair."

He could protest plenty of things: his cigars smell nothing like that sickly-sweet shit. But...there's a difference in smoking it across a table and wafting it in Holland's face. And it does cling to fabric. "Not giving up my cigars for you or anyone," he grumbles, even as he snuffs it out. And then carefully, "Since it was six months for your mother, if I'm on the throne a year, will you tell me about this brother of yours?"

"Maybe. If you're not a tyrant by then." He can't tell if what's caught in Holland's voice is a laugh or tears and suspects Holland can't either.

(When the Danes come, Holland finds it ironic to be the one wafting cigar smoke into a pillow for old time's sake. But when all the other smells have faded, when he can't remember just how faded a brown his king's hair was, he remembers the damn cigars. Oh, he remembers the blood, too, but those cigars were such a constant smell, outside the bedroom, that he's inherited a milder form of his mother's vice. Didn't she flee into the dens to remember his father, after all?)

[this entire headcanon courtesy of the phenomenal @pinkcupboardwitch who gave the second half of this in a one A.M. angst fit so it can live forever rent-free in my head though any dreadful dialogue is entirely mine :)

--in a universe where Vortalis can have Arnesian food, he's a spiced tea addict. Anything strong enough it makes AGOS Lila sneeze, he's in absolute paradise the heat of it is almost as good as a cigar. And Arnesian curry Kajt, he could eat it by the bucketful.

--"The stores are thinning" absolutely refers to a public granary. One of the first things he did as king was to impose reasonable grain prices, particularly on the Kosik--think of the Roman grain dolewith the crown subsidizing the farmers in various magical artifacts rather than funds. It wasn't an easy program to get off the ground because there weren't good ways to pay the artisans and you can live in the castle wasn't exactly a glowing proposition when the castle could be overrun. But there were a few odd folk, some who genuinely wanted to do good, some who were of a historical bent and wanted to be close to an Antari--you will never convince me there aren't Maktahn Tieren's at least in personality if not vocation and some who just thought being under an Antari's protection were better than their odds on the streets. Of course, such reductions are only effective so long as you have grain to offer.

--Had Kell asked the right people, they might have also told him about how the king let his Antari heal their grandmother, their baby, and didn't ask for tribute. Not many; you'd have to be desperate indeed to go to an Antari, but there were stories that resurfaced when Holland became the new king.

--He knows full well how much his instincts lean to death-dealing, even if his brains demanded a change for the city. And whatever Holland might think, Ros Vortalis has heard his share of tales. A knight, before the doors sealed, was a sword and shield. But they kept a king honest too,, forced him to hold to honor and justice.

#sorry these are so late #to all you other brilliant humans will do the rest of the asks tomorrow/at the weekend! #Holland Vosijk/Ros Vortalis #headcanons #Ros Vortalis #Holland Vosijk #Shades of Magic

[badassbutterfly1987]

Thought experiment: So Osaron is usually a spooky shadow creature or a disembodied voice but in that time when he was half-possessing/manipulating Holland, do you think it ever tried to look like Vortalis?

Because that's a wound that's barely been allowed to heal, a death Holland couldn't really grieve under the Danes and even though he's free form them now, he's ruling alone.

Now he's working with an oshoc he doesn't fully trust but then it looks like Vortalis-

It's not a perfect replica. The voice and mannerisms aren't real enough. But it's a reminder that always catches him off-guard, a constant confrontation of what he's lost but also a reminder of what they were fighting for.

And maybe in brief moments he can almost pretend Vortalis isn't dead.

#shades of magic #holland vosijk #som osaron #ros vortalis #thought experiment #just rambling #if they ever make the show i want this for a visual gut punch #i also want confirmed holland x vortalis but that might be too big an ask #i'd be happy with subtext anyways

[lesbianyeva]

@shdwthief and i were talking abt this earlier so, some stuff abt holland vosijk n ros vortalis for ur consideration (aka: cry with us)

both use on vis och before / after two of their major scenes - vor just after he’s become king, still believing his reign can bring a new start to white london, and holland on his way to his execution, about to face death (or worse) to bring down the demon he released.  and it kills me bc the two different meanings of that phrase?  a fresh start, what vortalis believes in creating, and a good end, what holland hopes for.

in the end, it is what they both get.

even if they didn’t make a huge difference, white london under vortalis still must have been slightly better in terms of like, at least he wouldn’t have been killing innocent people in the square every week or letting people starve so he could live comfortably.  and without him taking the throne first, holland might never have gotten his arc in acol because he wouldn’t have been in the palace, wouldn’t have had anything to do w the danes unless they actively sought him out, might not have died as the someday king, which is literally white london’s fresh start.  

holland dies after having given everything (and given up everything) for his world, he traps osaron, he unknowingly brings magic back, achieves exactly what he dreamed he would as a child - a good end.  and without that end, you wouldn’t have the new beginning that comes after.

also can’t make a post abt these two w/out referencing the winter king / someday king parallel so.  vortalis is talking about how they have to get through winter before the city experiences spring or summer (as in, good things, stability, magic returning) and that’s the time for the someday king but winter and the winter king have to come first.  which.  is literally what happens.  the winter king paves the way for the seasons of the someday king.  he says they have to survive winter and holland does, and because he does, eventually brings the metaphorical spring / summer to white london.

thanks for coming 2 this ted talk

#shdwthief #shades of magic #adsom #holland vosijk #ros vortalis #ghost whisperings #shades of magic spoilers /

[ghoulorghost]

I think the main difference between the Antari lies in the way they perceive both themselves as people and themselves in relation to their magical ability.

Delilah Bard found out she was Antari when she was 19 years old, a period of time in which her character had time to develop. She was her own person, with desires and a purpose, long before she made this discovery. She defined herself as a thief and wannabe pirate, before anything else, and this new talent certainly didn't make a difference , her choice being to wield it the same she would a blade.

Holland Vosijk acquired the title of Antari when he was 8 years old. At that point in time, in spite of or maybe because of the way he was brought up, he already viewed his existence as important, his conflict with both his brother Athos and later his first lover Talya proving that.

His encounters with Ros Vortalis strengthened the care he held for White London, but also gave him the purpose of bettering it's fate.

His time spent bound to the Danes did not diminish his sense of self and his desires, but actually fostered them.

And while Holland did seem to consider his position as an Antari a curse, due to the way others sought to use him, I feel like he did not intend to die, just favored it over the alternative.He also recognised the magic's usefulness as a means to an end.

Delilah and Holland are alike in that sense. Both of them view their magic as a component to what they perceive their own person to be.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Kell, whose memories begin from the moment he was discovered as an Antari.

He didn't have the chance to separate himself from this label, he was essentially the label, first and foremost.

Kell was valued and forced into certain predicaments as a consequence of receiving it.

He's grown up learning to associate his worth to his magic, all the while resenting what he was given as a result of it, which he perceived as unfair. I'm convinced he also subconsciously resented the people who viewed him this way and taught him to view himself this way. He felt and was told he was being ungrateful, and ended up feeling guilty and resenting himself for even thinking such thoughts and experiencing such emotions in the first place.

Instead of it being a talent he could make use of, it became something he was used because of, feared because of and coveted because of. It's become his defining trait.

Both his biological mother and father elected to give him up in exchange for his mother's freedom and a sum of money.  They didn't value him as a person, they saw value in this specific characteristic he had, and used it to their advantage.

His adoptive parents, the king and queen, viewed him as means to keep their enemies at a safe distance, as a method of communication with other Londons, and as prince Rhy's protector.

Rhy must've been the only person who saw Kell as something else, as a brother, as an individual, and even he had his flaws, not willing to recognise what the people he loved did.

The times Kell did attempt to exteriorize other attributes and desires, ended with him being punished. He desires to have more to himself than his magic.

Feeling stuck is what caused him to act recklessly, to do things he wasn't supposed to, and to keep them to himself.

The arrogance he displayed seemed like a front, a way to feel less inadequate.

He won both the coat and a multitude of baubles through gambling, and while it's not specified for how long he'd been doing this, he was wearing a red coat, the coat?, the first time Holland met him, at 13 years old.

He smuggled, traded and collected trinkets, to feel like he had something of his own for once, something he wasn't offered just because of his status, his magic. He'd tried to define himself through the objects he gathered.

This habit of his, which frankly sounds more like an addiction, was the cause of his encounter with the Black Stone. The Black Night, Rhy's death, Holland's death and consequent return, and Osaron, all occurrences that followed.

This series of events ended with him shattering his magic beyond repair, losing what he and most others thought of as himself. Suddenly he became nothing, useless, and everything attributed to him because of it didn't fit anymore.

He's displayed a carelessness in regard to his life, multiple times across the years, his tie to Rhy being the main thing keeping him alive.

He'd have been willing to go to Black London, was resigned to the idea for most of the first book, but his binding to Rhy made him reconsider. I think he also really believed Holland so close to death he wouldn't have survived the trip and wouldn't have suffered.

The same could be said about him planning to offer himself as bait to Osaron. If Holland hadn't taken over the role and his brother wasn't in danger of dying, he wouldn't have thought twice about doing it.

Kell confirmed he would have taken his life the moment he came to the conclusion that his magic wasn't coming back, had he not considered Rhy's life more important than this inclination.

He doesn't see value his life beyond it benefiting others.

It also seems as if he becomes someone else everytime he's redefined. He's been Kastion Laros, K.L., Kell Maresh, Kell, Kamerov Loste, Kay, and multiple other people over the course of his life. I do think they're all sides of him.

Now, with his magic mostly healed, he's back to playing Kell Maresh.

But I'm not convinced he's learned to value himself yet, just reverted to a state he views himself valuable in. Though I hope by the end of the series he'll figure himself out.

#adsom #the fragile threads of power #fragile threads of power #fragile threads of power spoilers #the fragile threads of power spoilers #ve schwab #kell maresh #lila bard #holland vosijk #rhy maresh

[ashintheairlikesnow]

"It's gone cold" - Astrid

“Is it ready?” Athos crouched next to her, his boots sinking into the soft, powdery snow. It’s not a good snow - difficult to pack underfoot, the horses founder in it, and they’ve set camp for the night. The smoke of London’s ten thousand fires is just visible, tinting the horizon, and the camp around them is restless.

The men and women they’ve brought with them are eager for battle, eager to be commanded. They want the city.

Astrid wants it, too, of course. 

The city and the throne, hers - and her brother’s - for the taking. Astrid wants to rule, but it’s Athos who wants the king’s pet Antari, a green-eyed man who serves Ros Vortalis’s whims. They’ve heard Vortalis pretends at a friendship with the magician he uses for his own ends. Athos, at least, promises a far more honest relationship than that.

“It’s gone cold,” Astrid says, voice flat. She leans forward, tapping her fingernail against the spill of dark red across the thin, wide bowl. “Frozen, actually. Which is exactly how it needs to be.”

Near them, a man breathes in gasps, clutching his bloodied wrist to his chest. Astrid and Athos ignore him. He has served his purpose - a man with some magic who has seen the king’s Antari.

Astrid’s black veins shiver and shift under her white skin as she passes her hand over the frozen mirror of blood. Where her hand passes, the blood glimmers, pulls, dances. It settles again, but an image is there, painted in shades of red, blood to blood.

The king’s Antari sits in his own chair in Ros’s room, the two of them laughing over something. The king’s laugh is bright and booming, albeit tinny when heard through blood. The Antari’s laugh is soft, and likely rare. 

The magician turns to look at his king, a slight smile on his face, and Athos leans closer, his white hair falling around his face. His colorless eyes, ringed in deep black veins, glimmer in interest. “He’s handsome.”

“We knew that already. Handsome doesn’t mean useful.” Astrid swats at her brother good-naturedly, and he flashes her a smile, sticks a pale tongue out at her. She can’t help but smile in return.

“What do you think?” She asks. “Will he suit you?”

“He is going to bleed,” Athos whispers. “Bleed, suffer, and sing for me, sister. I will have my Antari pet.”

“And we will have our London.”

The two of them raise their heads and look to the smoke at the horizon.

“Ah, London,” Astrid breathes, closing her eyes. She fancies she can smell the smoke, from here, even though she knows it’s only her own campfires she smells. “Pretty city of the world. Center of magic.”

“Give us your Antari, and your king, too,” Athos murmurs.

The two smile at each other, in a perfect devoted affection. 

“I cannot wait, brother,” Astrid says, to the backdrop of the man tied on the ground weeping. “London, London, pretty thing, give us your magic. Give us your blood.”

#adsom #astrid dane #athos dane #holland vosijk #ros vortalis

[voidcat]

– Acina in the Silver Wood

Characters: Holland Vosijk, Kell Maresh ; mentioned: Talya, Ros Voltaris, Athos and Astrid Dane

Genre & Word Count: angst, kind of a happy ending (for the world)  major spoilers if you’re still reading the book series  & 1.8k

The Silver Wood," he said. "Some say it was the place where magic died." After a moment he added, "Others think it's nothing, has never been anything but an old grove of trees."

Despite his words, Holland knew deep down, that the Silver Wood was more than what they say. He knew it would be the place where magic will come alive once again.

ao3 - song rec: All Delighted People by Sufjan Stevens

The Someday King.

That was the name of the stories and the myths.

The same ones Holland grew up with. The stories he would seek out whenever his city experienced yet another death of an innocent one, another fresh blood, another king, another life.

It was the story of better days to come, power to be restored, a name of hope and light. It was everything the White London needed, but only limited to words and a title.

Life in White London was not easy. This was the first thing you’d learn. The struggles would start during your birth and only increase in time. Each day a new challenge, a new page of survival, another “Will it happen today?” asked. Happiness was as rare as stable magic in White London. A fact everyone learnt to live with. What else could’ve been done when even the simplest acts of magic was a vile chore? And so Holland learnt at an age too early, that life could exist without the good in it.

Maybe it’s for the better. It’s familiar, in a sense. There are no surprises. Nothing to throw you off, catch you off guard. The Grimm and the dread feels numb after a while. Holland learns to grow used to it too.

The first betrayal comes with Alox. In a city filled with people hungry for magic, even a drop of it, it is expected. It is one of the rare times he is caught off guard, but when he looks back on the memory, he ascribes it to his young age.

Then comes Talya. And with her comes a little change. Such things as comfort and safety make themselves known in Holland’s life. Followed by happiness, Holland tastes something he never thought was possible in the icy cold of White London. As his definition of life and regular change, so does his familiarity with everything around him.

A brand new page, a different kind of hope.

These make the inevitable end all the more painful. But the pain brings a comfort of its own. Of being known.

—

Change, has always been an everlasting part of the White London. The changing of the power, the reigns, the shift in dynamics and relationships. The only thing that never changes is the dull color of the world and the sky, the piercing cold and the hanging despair in the air. It feels so long ago that life used to be different. Beaming with magic and power. It feels unreal, just like the tales of the Someday King. After her, things go back to how they once were. Her death doesn’t awaken any change in White London that day but it pokes at something inside Holland. He withdraws more after that day.

As he returns to the routine of the same blinding days in White London, he realizes he has missed this a little. Having to let go off the only thing in his life that resembled happiness feels heavy on his shoulders, but not on his soul. The happiness of it drove him to worry for more, and made him drop his guard too. A mistake he promises never to repeat again.

And so he returns to the typical life of White London, where everyone suffers equally and constantly; where pain becomes the norm here, having to rely on primal instincts and doing your hardest to beat everyone at everything, anything. With the touch of care and light gone, gone with her, Holland goes back to suffering like everyone else.

The rest of White London would beg to differ, say he is not one of them and never will be. Cast out from early ages of his life, marked with the inking black of his eye, the mark of Antari, Holland is always in a separate cell. In a way the people of White London are right; Holland is not like them, never will be again. He will never taste the same hunger as them or experience fear as them, and unlike them he will suffer like no one else, for no one will ever suffer as beautifully as Holland Vosijk.

 —

Then Vortalis will knock on the door to Holland’s life. Failed attempts following one another, it is better to talk to him and stay on the ground with him, than to kill him; if he could ever kill him. A new kind of hope comes into Holland’s heart with Vortalis. Not the fairy tale kind, like the Someday King carries; but a new one for his world’s magic. When Vortalis becomes king, and Holland his knight, it is apparent how different they are compared to the previous reigns. Not a sudden change in behavior or looks, no acts of selfish reasons; they try and try and try, for London, for magic. Maybe the Someday King will never come, maybe there are decades for him to come; but until then they are here in his place, to do whatever they can for the balance and well being of their world, their home.

Alas, all good things come to an end; something Holland had to learn by experience, twice in a row now.

When the Danes come, so does change. And short after, comes him.

Holland has gotten a look at him before but this is the first time he has truly sees him. The Aven Vares of Red London, the blessed prince. The pink pearl of the treasure chest. Holland looks carefully and observes. And all he can see in Kell Maresh is everything Red London is to White London. Kell blinks and Holland sees the gates shut down ages ago. Kell walks and he can smell the lingering scent of roses. The blue of his eyes show Holland a sky he will never see in his home. With his each step, his red coat kisses the air, too vibrant for his faded world.

Holland looks at Kell Maresh and all he can see his the selfish world that abandoned his. It wouldn’t be a surprise to say that Holland didn’t like Kell from the first time he saw him but unfortunately this would be false information. As much as he wanted to dislike him and despite him, Holland didn’t have it in himself. Deep down he knew the Antari of Red London couldn’t be hold responsible for the things they had done. But wouldn’t it be so much easier to hate him? To channel all his frustrations through him and the image of him? Yet what he felt wasn’t one but close to it. Holland didn’t know what to name it but it was clear there was no dislike or hatred for the young rose bud.

 With Voltaris gone, the Danes are cherry on top. Each day a torment of its own. With the first kill, came the second, and one after that; it was never easy, it never would be. He wanted to fight back, desperately. But all he could do was to obey and carry out their orders, watch everything Voltaris had worked so hard for crumble. The Danes would play ost sometimes and make Holland watch. Athos would seek out a man to resemble Holland with looks and make him a part of the game too. Seeing the slightest change of expression, tiniest bit of emotion in Holland would delight them both; and all Holland could think of is to wish he was in that man’s place, for there was an end to it all. A finishing blow, a light at the end of the tunnel. What made Holland ache more was the knowing, that the man wouldn’t have suffered as much or as early at their hands if he looked a little different. Just another pawn in their games, targeting Holland.

—

Time only grows duller; more encounters with the young Antari, too kind for his own good, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong; the body count Holland keeps for the Danes increasing, their deaths never getting ordinary, seeing the light leave their eyes always haunting his memories.

Life, full of dread and pain and never truly free, yet Holland finds himself holding onto it some days.

That night in the alley, a part of him hopes Kell lands the finishing blow, he should’ve remembered it is never that simple to kill their kind.

—

Another day of waking up, to a pitch black world this time. Yet something has changed, he can feel it, or the lack of its presence. He is almost upset he didn’t get to kill the twins.

He never hurried to celebrate, for he can’t break free of the chains. They’re changed and the leash held by someone new now. But it’s worth it, to see his city bloom finally, to see the sky gain color just like his cheeks do, the air not as cold and heavy, the sun shines like his hair does.

Bound tight by yet another force, much stronger this time, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. The happiness of seeing his world change is eases the agony. Maybe he can hold on and keep Osaron at bay until he comes, the promised one he hoped for all his life.

No matter how long it has been, the tales provide a sense of solace. A trinket of hope; one he will always need, he fears.

—

As things draw near to an end, he does what must be done, what he must; for the sake of his world and the others. So he does what Red never did right, and he does it for everyone.

When Kell takes him back to where it all began, the Silver Wood, Holland feels comfort again and warmth spreads through his chest. His world still cold and as Kell leaves, he stands in the middle of it, alone. In the boy’s eyes, he feels the countless of times he was there, acts of kindness and gratitude; maybe Kell could never truly understand Holland’s pain, but his eyes told him he understood some of it, and suffered with him every time he looked at him. As he sags back against the nearest tree, Kell’s eyes never leave him. He can still feel his touch on his hand, his warmth and care. He can still smell the roses and see the sky. Kell was someone he could never name accordingly, perhaps he never wanted to label his feelings toward the boy in the red coat; but Holland would be a fool to pretend he never liked Kell, to act like he meant nothing. In his left hand, lays the the red lin he left behind.

As the leaves rustle and the woods let out a tune of its own, sing the song of a tale long gone, a cheer for the Someday King. The wood whispers and Holland hears it say: The King is coming.

All the dots connect, all the strings tied together, no loose ends, no gaps. He understands.

Holland Vosijk breaths out one last time and he feels his world breath in the air he let out. As he fades away, the world starts to bloom. And with one last breathe, he becomes one with his home.

—

Anoshe lingers in the back of Kell’s mind and whenever he sees an acina, his green eyes flood his heart.

#adsom #shades of magic #holland vosijk #kell maresh #kelland #holland x kell #implied #the dane twins #alox vosijk #talya #acol #a conjuring of light #agos #a gathering of shadows #a darker shade of magic #som #v e schwab #analysis #character analysis #of sorts #not really #idk why i did it #i love pain #fanfiction #wriitng #adsom writing