#okay I will also accept an argument for 'We Shall All Be Healed' but that's for another post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

regolithheart · 4 years

Note

what do you think about the Nesta/Cassian/Mor conflict? also looking forward to your fics!!

Hi beautiful, sweet, innocent, Nonnie!!

Thank you for writing to me. Like I said, I could talk about Nessian all day and I am full. of. #thoughts. I could give you a short sweet answer, but it’s week six of quarantine, I had a brownie for dinner, and I don’t know what day it is. In the end, you’ll probably regret asking me, but lets just jump into it, shall we?

Unpopular opinion: I don’t like Rhys, Mor, or Feyre. So if you don’t want to hear what I have to say in regards to them, thanks for stopping by. No need to read further.

I’ve never loved Feyre, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I just don’t like main characters in a series. Would I have preferred to read Hermione Granger and the Prisoner of Azkaban? You bet your ass. I also don’t like Rhys for the same reason, but also I dislike Rhys more than Feyre and for additional reasons which we will get to later.

I hate that I dislike Mor, because I loved her so much in ACoMaF and for a hot minute I shipped Mor and Azriel because I am a sucker for the unrequited love trope. A real sucker. And maybe, maybe I could have overlooked the retconning of her being a lesbian (yes, it was a retcon. Fight me.), if it weren’t for the fact that it makes her look really really bad and makes her treatment of Azriel even worse. I get it. I do. Her working through being okay with telling the others any of her business is part of her personal journey, but being honest to someone you claim to love about not being able to love them the way they hope to be is different than telling them you can’t be in a relationship because you prefer the opposite sex. Listen, I obviously have thoughts about this, but that’s not what the question was about so I’ll move on.

Mor and Cassian’s relationship is a dangerous one. They both use each other as a crutch. From day one, Mor was using Cassian. Now, I don’t think she was doing it maliciously, but he appealed to her because he was already one of the most powerful Illyrians and a bastard to boot. Why do you think Mor chose Cassian and not Azriel? Sure, she wanted to own her own body. She wanted to decide who she gets to sleep with, but she decided she wanted to sleep with someone before going to the Autumn Court to stick it to Keir and the establishment. And what better way to stick it to them than to choose an Illyrian bastard. Because being the illegitimate son of an Illyrian lord is still ranked higher than being someone with no father and a dead mother. Mor knew exactly what she was doing when she chose Cassian. She is Rhys’ third-in-command for a reason. She aint no dumdum.

And for 500 years it was all good, right? Mor didn’t care who Cassian hooked up with because she knew they were no threat. But as soon as someone comes along that Cassian has feelings for, like true, legit, feelings, she cannot handle it. Because if she loses Cassian as a buffer then she really will have to be honest with Azriel (the horror). And so what does she do? She gets possessive. She outright hates Nesta and does not hold her feelings or tongue back. Now, some people are going to say that Nesta is the worst. She was horrible to Feyre growing up, she’s rude, she’s belligerent, and she can be a straight up bitch. Yeah. No argument there. We’ve all read the books. We have see the evidence throughout the whole entire series. But so is Rhys, so is Mor, so is Feyre, and Cassian and Amren. The only difference, is that a) they all have each other’s backs while no one has Nesta’s and b) we get to see everyone’s reasons and everyone’s POV except for Nesta’s. Feyre is an unreliable narrator, which is why I’m looking forward to seeing Cassian and Nesta away from Feyre in book 4 because I don’t trust her to tell me what’s going on for realsies.

Honestly, the scene that made me straight up get so pissed at Mor was in ACoFaS when Nesta shows up to the Solstice party and Elain gives Nesta her present. All of Cassian’s attention is pointed to Nesta and what does Mor do? She forces Cassian to pay attention to her by choosing that exact moment to give him his Solstice present. Not any other time before or after when Cassian barely even glances Nesta’s way, but during the what, five seconds, he’s looking at her? PLEASE! It’s so passive aggressive and I hate it. I hate it!

I think the thing that bothers me the most abut Cassian and Mor’s relationship is that it really is just a miniature version of Cassian’s relationship with the Inner Circle in regards to Nesta. But really, when I say Inner Circle, I mean Rhys. I hate how Rhys treats Nesta, thinks of Nesta, and dismisses Nesta. Does he have his reasons? Sure. Are they valid reasons? He sure thinks they are, but like I said before, he’s no angel and we got to hear his full story so until we get Nesta’s full story then I don’t need my inbox blowing up. And honestly, if it turns out that Nesta really is as bad as everyone thinks she is, that’s still not going to change my opinion of her. I mean, why have you even read this far if you don’t like Nesta? Has anyone read this far, period?

What I mean to say is that Cassian loves his family. He loves Nesta. The problem is that his family and Nesta don’t love each other and he will always feel torn apart over it. Cassian knows that Rhys hates Nesta. He can barely acknowledge her existence in front of Rhys and Azriel because they barely do. Yeah, his feelings are complicated right now. He’s hurt, and angry, and confused, and still loves her and can’t work out his feelings because he doesn’t have a safe place to do so. If there’s anyone he should feel comfortable going to to work out these feelings with, it’s Rhys, Az, and Mor but he can’t because he knows exactly how they feel about her, which is that they tolerate her at best. And even then, do they?

I don’t want Cassian to feel like he has to choose between Nesta or his family, but as the situation stands, he probably does feel like that. I mean, who knows. Maybe he’s already chosen his family over Nesta. It’s not like she’s making an argument on her own behalf. But we know Cassian loves Nesta. Even if he’s annoyed with her, or mad, or frustrated with her, we know that he honest-to-the-Mother loves her. But until everyone can heal, and understand one another, and accept each other, it’s a lose-lose situation all around. Notice how I didn’t say love, or even like.

Do I feel sorry for Cassian? Yes. Do I think he’s entirely faultless? Nope. Yes, he’s in a shitty situation, but honestly if he had a real conversation with Mor (and the Inner Circle) about his feelings about/for Nesta and confront her about her treatment of Nesta, he’d get different results. Do I think he’s terrified of having an actual, honest conversation? You betcha.

And yeah, we all know that Nesta isn’t making the situation any easier. But she’s hurt and suffering more than any of us really know. Do I think she's entirely blameless? Absolutely not. But I do feel that Rhys and Mor are extra judgmental of her because they already have their preconceived notions of her and anything she’s done contrary to that is ignored while everything she does that reiterates it is magnified. But here I am getting derailed again.

Nesta feels unloved. We can argue whether or not it is deserved another time, but the fact is that she feels unloved. Probably has always felt unloved. So every time Cassian choses to look at Mor instead of Nesta, it’s confirmation to her that she will never be anyone’s first choice. Look, the only man who said he loved her turned out to be abusive and assaulted her. And then when her father declares that he loves her, he gets murdered right in front of her eyes. Elain is the only other person Nesta knows loves her, and now she’s chosen Feyre and the Inner Circle over her (at least she has in Nesta’s eyes). You see where I’m going with this, right?

Except for the few dire times during the war--like when they’re legit in battle for their lives and emotions are running high--does Cassian let himself show Nesta that he cares for her. The only other times is when they’re by themselves. We know it’s because Cassian hides behind his bravado. But to Nesta, who probably has the worst opinion of herself, it probably means he’s ashamed to show it. Or he’s uncertain. I know we don’t have proof of this in the text, but I like to think I understand Nesta on a deep level, I can just imagine that’s how she’s feeling. Nesta pushes people away so that she doesn’t get disappointed when they decide to leave on their own accord. Nesta fought for Feyre, she fought for Elain, and she fought for Cassian. And in ACoFaS they all essentially turned their backs on her. And you wonder why she has so much rage in her frozen heart.

TL;DR (not that I blame you): It’s complicated and it’s messy and everyone involved has contributed to it’s tangled mess of jealousy, insecurity, selfishness... but I also place more responsibility on the two 500-year-olds than I do on the 23-year-old.

I’m really interested to see how it plays out in the next book(s), but I will tell you right now, I am on team Nesta Archeron and will be until my dying breath.

Also, if you made it to the end...

#anon ask #acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian archeron #nessian #morrigan #listen don't blow up my inbox #because I have opinions #thoughts #long ass post #seriously come talk to me

362 notes · View notes

memes-in-a-half-shell · 4 years

Note

Okay--I'd LOVE to hear how you came up with those astrological signs for the boys! Tell us, please! ^_^

AND I SHALL !!!

Something I like to do usually when creating characters - or simply trying to come up with a “fleshed out” personality for existing characters, is that I often go read astrological signs’ descriptions. Often those things are very cliché and don’t really make a lot of sense, but it is a good baseline for expanding on character development.

Leo

Capricorn (Dec.22 - Jan.19) (I personally HC that his birthday is in January)

“ Smart, hardworking, and fully in control of their destiny, a Capricorn will always get what they set their mind to, in both personal and professional life—no excuses. Capricorns may get a reputation as stubborn, but they simply know what they want, and also know how they wish other people would behave. Natural rule-followers, Capricorns thrive on order and love strict rules, hierarchies, and set ways to do things. Can a Capricorn think outside the box? Yes, they can, but they prefer when they have strict boundaries to constrain against—free reign can make them feel paralyzed by choice. “ (source)

“ Capricorn’s personality traits are derived from its receptive, feminine, or yin qualities, making this sign oriented toward contemplation and engagement with inner awareness. Alive in both a Capricorn woman or Capricorn man, those born with the Sea-Goat as their rising, sun, or moon sign have a discipline, masterful, and determined energy in the core of their personality; an echo of the resilience and resourcefulness needed to survive the cold season of their birth.As a cardinal sign, Capricorn holds the qualities of being an achiever, a builder, and a climber, able to set and conquer the loftiest goals one step at a time. Those born with the sign of the Sea-Goat prominent in their charts are great at being determined, consistent, and reliable. They often over-deliver on their promises and take their honor and public reputation very seriously. Ruled by Saturn, the primary Capricorn strengths can be found in their perseverance, longevity, and focused self-mastery. Coolheaded and down to earth, they have strong powers of discernment. They are often good Saturnian judges of character and can be approached for pragmatic advice and a fair verdict.Ruled by Saturn, the Sea-Goat does not shy away from commitment, but rather requires it of their friends, business partners, and lovers before they can fully trust. As a result, your Sea-Goat friend may be one of your most loyal allies, unless of course, you cross them in a business deal.Capricorns may not be seeking fame or glamour in the obvious sense, yet are known for their enduring beauty and classic elegance. Those born under the Sea-Goat are old souls who traditionally are understood to age in reverse. They usually begin life with the weight of the world on their shoulders that they gradually learn to let go of over the years. Humor is one of Capricorn’s most underrated strengths, which is an important source of their resiliency.Natives from this sign see the world with a pragmatic and sober eye, so have long ago made their peace with the shadows of mortality and human frailty. It is this shadow and frailty that they seek to laugh with, developing a dark, rueful humor to help them survive and endure. “ (source)

Raph

Cancer (Jun.21 - Jul.22) (Can we HC that his birthday is on July 4th x’D yes? Yes.)

“ Emotional, intuitive, and practically psychic; ruled by the moon and characterized by the crab, Cancer has so much going on in its watery depths. Cancers may seem prickly and standoffish at first meeting, once they make the decision to become friends with someone, that person has a friend for life. Most Cancers have been called psychic at some point, and with good reason—Cancer can often intuit relationships, ideas, and motivations before anyone has actually spoken. That can make for challenging interactions with this sign—Cancer hates small talk, especially when it contains white lies (like saying, "How nice to see you!" when it's clear that both parties would rather avoid each other). That's why social gatherings can be overwhelming for Cancers. They'd much rather spend time in small groups where everyone is on the same page. “ (source)

“Ruled by the moon, Cancer’s archetypal traits are derived from its receptive, feminine, or yin qualities, making this sign oriented toward contemplation, and engagement with inner awareness. Alive in both a Cancer woman or Cancer man, those born with the Crab as their rising, sun, or moon sign have a sensitive, intuitive, and protective awareness in the core of their personality; an echo of the life-supporting and sustaining energies of the Summer season.As a cardinal sign, Cancer takes leadership in the roles of being a nurturer, host, protector, and caretaker. Those born with the sign of the Crab prominent in their charts are focused on forming and maintaining family ties. They are naturally empathic, sentimental, and home-loving by nature. The primary Cancer strengths can be found in their kind, giving, and sympathetic natures. Always ready to host, and set a table, they can be counted on to feed and care for friends, family, and any weary traveler that stays in their home. With strong empathic powers and talents for healing, Cancer natives can sense what others need, often long before they have articulated it themselves.The famous sideways walk of the Crab can be observed in the cautious way a Cancer native enters a space or social gathering. They tend to come in quietly, carefully surveying their surroundings, before they open and reveal their whole selves. This protective instinct makes Cancerians good at reading the emotional tone in a room, helping them anticipate danger or crisis early. “ (source)

Donnie

Libra (Sep.23 - Oct.22) (I HC his birthday in October)

“ Intelligent, kind, and always willing to put others before themselves, Libras value harmony in all forms. Ruled by Venus, the planet of beauty, Libra adores a life that looks good. As the master of compromise and diplomacy, Libra is adept at seeing all points of view, and excels at crafting compromises and effecting mediation between others. This sign has a rich inner life yet loves other people, and they're always happiest with a large group of friends, family, and coworkers on whom they can count. An air sign, Libra can often be "up in the clouds," and while he or she is amazing at making big plans, follow through can be tricky. Working with detail-oriented signs, like Virgos or Capricorns, can help Libras actually manifest their dreams into reality, especially in the workspace. But don't call out Librans for daydreaming—their imagination is one of their biggest assets, and they often put their imagination to work by finding careers in the arts or in literature. “ (source)

“ Libra’s archetypal traits are derived from its active, masculine, or yang qualities, making this sign oriented toward engagement with the outer world. Alive in both a Libra woman or Libra man, those born with the planet of love as their rising, sun, or moon sign have an equanimous energy in their core personality. As a cardinal air sign, Libra holds the qualities of social initiation and leadership. This makes those with Libra prominent in their charts great at pioneering social projects and gatherings, and naturals at unifying their team, family, or community.Natives from this sign can be thought of as “the diplomats” of the zodiac, acting as active mediators and negotiators in any crisis or challenge. Being ruled by the planet of pleasure and attraction, Libra is usually quick to forgive and eager to smooth out differences so that everyone can get back to enjoying the finer aspects of life. Libra’s great strengths can be found in their ability to embody Venus’ loving, healing, and balancing traits. These folks will likely have the ability to put others first for the sake of everyone’s comfort and well-being. They are great communicators and listeners, fairly weighing all sides of an argument and another’s point of view. Libras are likely to not hold grudges, as it can take a lot to rouse and sustain their anger. Being very Venusian, they typically assume the best intentions in others and give most people many chances to redeem themselves.In addition to these folks’ great relational strengths, there are also their keen aesthetic sensibilities to consider. Not only will this make sun sign Librans very creative, it will make them attuned to the subtleties of atmosphere and harmonious environments. They are naturally curious about how the aesthetics of our adornments and surroundings can set the tone for our well-being and social interactions. Keeping the peace and maintaining poise, grace, and charm are strengths that can be relied on from these natives. “ (source)

Mikey

Pisces (Feb.19 - Mar.20) (I HC his birthday in March)

“ Smart, creative, and deeply intuitive, Pisces can be close to psychic. Pisces feel things deeply, and have incredibly strong gut reactions. A Pisces "knows" things from deep within, and can often judge whether a person or situation is good or bad. That doesn't mean a Pisces ignores the logical part of their brain, though. Deeply intelligent, Pisces have a profound respect for the power of the human mind. Is it a surprise that Albert Einstein was a Pisces? Pisces may seem quiet but they are incredibly strong and have a very strong sense of right and wrong. Their moral compass, along with their gut, guides them well. When a Pisces speaks up, people listen. Pisces tend to take in everything around them, and they are great people to ask for advice on pretty much anything. While Pisces has strong convictions about the best way for them to live, they have a "live and let live" approach when it comes to others, and are accepting and nonjudgmental of all. “ (source)

“ As a mutable sign, Pisces holds adaptive, fluid, and shape-shifting qualities. Those with the sign of the Two Fishes prominent in their charts are sensitive seekers who have the potential to bring a soulful, healing energy to their relationships and communities. The primary Pisces’ strengths can be found in their tender, sympathetic, and receptive natures. Naturally compassionate and empathic, Pisces are wired to offer spiritual and artistic gifts to the world. These are the poets, musicians, painters, and intuitive counselors in our communities.With Jupiter’s influence on the faith, belief, and sense of higher purpose, Pisceans can be counted on to offer help and healing support to anyone who is in need. These natives tend to drift through life on their schedule and follow an inner sense that life is unfolding as it should.Idealistic and imaginative, those born under the Two Fishes’ sign have an otherworldly quality to them and seem to retain a sense of innocence and wonder their whole lives. These natives often believe in the good of others and will likely give the benefit of the doubt. “ (source)

#it's-a-moi #mythigal1966 #ask

16 notes · View notes

blooddrop-palace · 4 years

Text

Project Updates - What to Look Forward To

<3 Hello all! I've realized (humbly) that I have a small following of very nice people that seem quite interested in what I've written so far, and after seeing some mutuals post update-status posts, I thought I should share what's going on with my projects, also. (Thanks for the encouragement, @queenmuzz!)

Updated Dec-10-20

Sons of Fortune

Probably somehow my main focus now, though I am steadily working on other works. Currently working on the “In Between” special short before I start on Chapter 12.

I would also like to talk a little bit about my plans for this story: if anyone has paid attention to this story's tags, yes, I am touching up on the plots of most of the games. In fact, all of them, and the anime. (I already dealt with DMC4. No, I will not tear apart Fortuna lol.) Not all relevant tags are in, yet, because small spoilers. It looks like it's going to be a long while before I even get to the Temen-ni-gru, though. (There is a reason why that event is getting pushed back.) I want to have fun with the family fluff that is the twins each learning how to parent, first.

Hell Froze Over, and We Shall Reignite It

The drama of it all! Dante and Vergil are finally back from Hell, and Nero doesn’t even know his mother is now standing right in front of him. Meanwhile, even I’m anticipating seen how Snow and Dante is going to handle the obvious things currently unsaid... and I have a feeling a small measure of stupidity is still going to be involved.

Current chapter progress: Outline complete.

It's going to feel so interesting, shifting from "Fortune" back to Reignite. I get to write Sera and Vergil falling in love all over again, with a different set of circumstances. Whoa.

And, and... Nero meeting Sera... odd that I'm saying this as the writer, but I have a "I hope he likes his mom" feeling going on.

Also, no doubt Dante's brain is going to 404 when he sees Snow.

Nico prepares popcorn.

This is Not an Office Rom-Com

I have... about 8 new skits planned out. Nothing more written just yet.

That’s all I’m saying about this for now. =P

Hierarchy of Kings

Purely indulgent M/M romance of Vergil and an OC, existing all thanks to

@wordborne

Working on chapter 2.

I know I said 3 chapters only. I might have lied depending on how much I want to write. It's supposed to be just... awkward fluff of a listless part-devil who somewhat-recently lost his mate, got in a bit of a tiff with his brother, and now his children are trying to set him up with the prospective-king-of-hell, Vergil.

I think about this one a lot but I haven't written anything new for it yet, only because "Fortune" is taking over my life right now, haha.

Through the Lens of the Beholder

Okay, so...This story has no real plot. As a result, my drive for it is purely down to "if I think of a badass or cool photograph to describe." There is a TINY bit of plot. Only a little. And I don't know when I'll update. But this is why I'm trying not to START new projects. Four is a lot already! But because this one is supposed to be simpler than the other two, I will most likely finish this one before the others, so I can open a new project.

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

Speaking of new projects... Here are things ideas bouncing through my head:

- I still have a prompt from @maybeishouldwait sitting in my inbox. I WILL have it done one day, when I find the perfect way to write it.

A whole, entirely royally late set of Dadgil week fics. Yep. I want to write them. They just won’t be on time.

Written in Ink

A plot-less post-DMC5 story.

I say plot-less. There is a plot. The plot is:

Dante: Damn it, Verge, are you trying to turn my office into a zoo??

In which Vergil compulsively starts contracting strong demons he's defeated, left and right, because he's discovered "the joy of pets." The demons all take on a dark animistic form and things get wild.

A Persona and DMC fusion/AU

I have no title for this yet, and I absolutely cannot start this one until I have finished one of my other big projects. This one will take a lot of big planning, because I am making a new plot, using the mechanics of Persona, with DMC characters and setup.

What I want to write, is a teenage Nero as the protagonist, trying to solve a mystery... probably starting with the sudden disappearance of his mother. (Most likely Sera.) And he meets a lot of "new" people, and even finds new family... and yes, he will find his dad. (I'm thinking he'll know about Vergil, though. At least in name and a photo? Isn't that an interesting difference?)

For those of you not familiar with Persona, the major theme I really want to play with is that of the protagonist growing as a person (and in power) by befriending different people that helps them grow as a person. Each party member and important NPC is represented by a Tarot Card, signifying the type of journey the protagonist (The Fool) "embarks" with that character. There is growth in both the protagonist and that characters.

Again, this is ambitious to try and pull off... but it's in the back of my head. I'll focus on it once I've cleared some other stuff.

Sugar Sweet

A somewhat short-chapter series reader fic... of a surgeon/doctor!reader (barely 30 and good at what you do) who often saves the lives of shady people (e.g. mafia) because you care about saving lives, not the politics. But you do make good money out of it. (Hey, you gotta be at least a bit morally ambiguous if you're going to deal with devils.)

You meet one mess of a young mercenary named Dante, who is totally not human and deals with things like having bullets healed into his back, and he can't reach them to cut them out.

Dante doesn't care about bills for his office, or a lot of the debts in his life. You don't know where his money is going, or if he even makes much money at all (for the kind of specialty work he does? Money's going somewhere, but that's none of your business.)

You won't pay Dante's bills, or his debts, but he will accept pizza and ice cream. And new parts for his jukebox. And maybe a motorcycle. Or a new coat. Or a new car...

And you might complain to him about your dumb patients. Or just listen to him talk about his job. Or you two watch a movie together.

And this just continues. For years.

Tokusatsu DMC fusion/AU

So. First thing's first: I'm a big fan of Sentai/Tokusatsu. What is that, you might ask? It's a Japanese genre, and if you're familiar with Power Rangers, that's derived from Sentai.

Basically: Masked heroes with transformation gadgets, sometimes with motorcycles, fighting against evil. ("Magical girls" but strictly the opposite, a lot more physical combat involved, may involve upgrade gadgets, and not strictly limited to male heroes though mostly a male cast. Also not strictly for male-only audience. Girls like the eye-candy, too. :eyes-emoji:)

Why am I thinking about this?

Because I have found out that: Vergil's VA, Dan Southworth, was the Quantum Ranger (WHICH WAS RED). Nero's VA, Johnny Yong Bosch, was a Black Ranger and a Green Ranger.

...And Dante's VA, Reuben Langdon, had a role in a Japanese Toku show as "B-Fighter Yanma" forever ago???? (HE WAS BLUE!!)

What am I going to do with this info? I'll let you know later. But my Sentai/Toku-loving little heart is about to burst with hyperfixation overlap.

If I ever write this out, expect it to be just as cheesy as an actual Kamen Rider show. Or, at the very least, expect some art. I love Kamen Rider stuff!

Family Fantasy MMO

Snow introduces Dante, Vergil, Nero, and Kyrie to Final Fantasy 14 (because that’s the MMO I play) for family bonding. Yep. Mainly for silly indulgence.

Stardew Valley Visit

Post DMC5, Vergil and Dante accidentally end up going on a vacation when they try to leave Hell. No pairing with the farmer, but instead just a relaxing and somewhat introspective moment of the boys being stuck with most of their power temporarily sealed, learning how to take care of a farm, and maybe do a bit of healing by interacting with the townsfolk while they try to find out where their swords went and how to get home.

Re-Colourize

Otherwise what I would call the “re-colour of Nero and Snow” AU.

What if Vergil was found by Kassy’s family and raised among them? What if Dante ended up briefly in Fortuna and then convinced Sera to run away from the island?

What if we have a Nero who, though brash, is outwardly more soft and open-hearted, and has red-orange and gold colours instead? What if we have a Snow who is named Chiyuki, who wields her katana more like Vergil does, and has a more ice-queen aura about her, and has a teal and blue colouring about her?

This is my excuse to switch up the pairings, but also write Vergil being taught to fight more like an assassin.

Raised by the Blade

Imagine: Yamato, cracked, broken, and separated from her Master... desperately searching for a way to get back to him, and ended up washed up on the shores of Fortuna. Humanoid, but clearly not if anyone saw the cracked, broken, and no-normal look of “shattered” in her torso, that she would have to keep covered.

Made from the power of Sparda, she is pale with white hair... and she finds herself drawn to the orphanage...

Where she finds the toddler that is Nero.

Devil Hunters’ Podcast

Nico “accidentally” finds entertainment in recording the Sparda Family arguments as they talk about hunting; after all, they all share one braincell.

Ascended Monochrome

A white angel remains by the side of Nelo Angelo. Mundus was not pleased by the behavior of his second creation, from the human woman that he had picked up with the treacherous Son of Sparda. But he later discovered that by using her, he could keep Nelo Angelo complacent. Eventually, underestimating love will be his downfall.

Fall to Royalty

A story of where Vergil wins against Mundus the first time, and takes the throne of Hell. But what is he to do next? Eventually, ruling Hell seemed meaningless when there was no one by his side, so he goes to seek out the Lady Knight that he had vowed to never think of or go back to unless he had obtained the power he sought.

Doppelganger Woes

So, I heard Capcom retconned Gilver to be some sort of imitation created by Mundus. I’m all for this! And I’m going to DO something with this.

Side-Project: DMC Tarot List

I started on this maybe months ago; and I have a tentative list oh what characters go with what card and a few detailed descriptions. I think I should confer with

@harlot-of-oblivion

at some point about this, and anyone else interested in, well, Tarot stuff.

#devil may cry #fanfiction #Project Update

10 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

With All My Heart - P.02

This is the epilogue to Dear Dean.

Grant that I shall never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, or to be loved as to love, with all my heart.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 3430

A/N: A second epilogue is here! As always, thank you @themoonandotherslikeit <3

You don’t think life could be any more miserable? Dig a hole in your backyard while it is raining. Sit in the hole while the water climbs up around your ankles. Pour cold mud down your shirt collar. Sit there for 48 hours. And so there is no danger of your dozing off, imagine that a guy is sneaking around waiting for a chance to club you on the head or set your house on fire. Get out of the hole, fill a suitcase full of rocks, pick it up, put a shotgun in your other hand, and walk on the muddiest road you can find. Fall flat on your face every few minutes, as you imagine big meteors streaking down to sock you. If you repeat this performance every three days, for several months, you may begin to understand why an infantryman gets out of breath, but you still won’t understand how he feels when things get tough.

— Bill Mauldin, NM, cartoonist & writer for war newspaper Stars and Stripes

May 18th, 1946

Jamie’s fingers intertwined with his. She squeezed once, twice — a form of reassurance, Dean knew. His gaze was fixed in front of him, trying to pinpoint a dot in the distance, but the waves kept crashing in. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath too quickly.

It was a nice spring day. It was too warm for the season, and Jamie needed to get out of the house after last weekend when they celebrated Hope’s birthday. They had people coming around all the time and it made Dean uneasy. It was all new to him. He was still surprised that people cared about their daughter — their family — at all. He wasn’t used to it because he didn’t think that anyone ever cared about him at all except for Sammy.

Jamie had suggested that they’d go to the beach. A month earlier, she came home with some fancy swimming trunks in hand, the kind that are skin tight with a belt around the hip and what not. They were apparently popular but what did he know? She assured him that they wouldn’t be going swimming anytime soon because she wouldn’t fit in her two-piece suit even if she tried, but she wanted him to have one when the time came. Dean was okay with that.

Yet, there they were, standing on a freaking beach, and Dean’s heart was thumping out of his chest. Jamie wanted to get away, to see the beach again even though she knew that Dean probably wanted to get as far away from any beaches, if he had a say in it. He also knew that he had to face it eventually, since Jamie loved the beach.

“Ready when you are,” a soft voice whispered next to him, and he knew that she smiled up at him. He was just too lost in thought to even move his head to meet her eyes. His hands were sweating, too.

“Yeah,” Dean replied eventually. He tilted his head, looking down at her.

Jamie wore a maternity dress, and he had his pants rolled up to his knees. They could hear Jameson playing peek-a-boo with Hope who sat on her uncles’ stomach some feet behind them.

“Da-Da.” Dean could hear Hope say.

“Yes Hope, that’s Da-Da. We give them some time alone, huh? Where’s Hope? Where is my little Hope?” Jameson’s soothing voice faint in his ears.

“Da-Da,” Hope said again.

Dean smiled.

Hope was so attached to him. Maybe because she could feel that Jamie was pregnant and wanted more of his attention, which of course, Dean gave her. How could he ever say no to his little girl?

Dean turned the voices off because he really wanted to do this. Really wanted to be able to stand on a fucking beach and not freak the fuck out every damn time. Maybe not shit his pants, in the near future. Summer’s nearing and while he had an excuse last summer, with his legs still not healed enough, he knew that this summer, he had no excuses at all, except that he couldn’t fucking swim.

Their toes dug in the sand. The fresh salty air breezed through their hair, and Dean thought that it was really fucking nice to be out in this weather, if his heart could stop beating out of his chest, that’d be fucking grand.

Dean closed his eyes, and Jamie tugged his hand back a little. He knew that she didn’t want to pressure him, probably even would tell him that they could blow it off, but he didn’t want to. He’d come this far.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

The letter that was handed to Dean by Captain Mills read: “Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.”

They were on deck of the ship crossing the channel. Dean read it carefully. Maybe, because he was itching to have something else to do other than to wait for a damn order to get off the cramped ship into a more cramped landing craft. Maybe, because it was a sign from home, something for him and his men to cling on. Maybe, he wanted to believe that he was doing something meaningful — if going into war and killing people can count as such.

“In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely.”

Dean snorted. Yeah, right. He knew that he is all that too or at least he could be, and his men are not far off. He was about willing to do anything that would get him back on American soil. The war has only started for him but already he was so sick of it.

“But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory! I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory! Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking. Dwight D. Eisenhower.”

Dean’s not a believer. Never been. If there has been a God, God sure as hell wouldn’t have taken their mother away from them. Sure as hell wouldn’t have let them grow up like they did. Eisenhower’s last words in the letter meant nothing to Dean. Still, he knew that some of his men were believers and when they sat down to pray together, Dean would find himself amongst them. He would do anything to make his men feel comfortable, to keep their morale up even if it meant for him to pray to a God that doesn’t exist in his eyes.

He sat back and fished out his cigarette tin from the pocket and lit one before he looked up at the sky. There were no stars and he wondered how Sammy’s holding up. He hoped that his brother was somewhere safe.

He smoked one after another, before someone barked that they are going in. Dean popped in the last chewing gum he had with him before he climbed down the rope ladder into the LCV.

They were cramped in the LCV, soldiers almost sitting on top of each other, there were only enough space for two platoons and he was thankful that it was Cas’. They were sitting side by side, their backs resting against the cold metal of the LCV as it drove over waves. Dean chewed on the last gum he’d packed before he left for the channel crossing. Right about now he wished that he had packed more. Soldiers were getting sea sick, some were throwing up which then in turn triggered some kind of a puking chain. He chewed more aggressively, trying to suck in the minty fresh feeling of the gum and push the stretch of puke out of his taste buds.

“You think the boys from Phase Two did a good job?” Cas asked him.

“I hope so,” Dean answered.

Truth was, he didn’t know. The planes were to bombard the coastal strongholds, dropping bombs on the beach, creating craters for them to hide in. Yeah, Dean sure as hell hoped that they did their job.

“We’re here!” The pilot of the LCV shouted and Cas’ got up to talk to his men in the front.

Dean looked around. “We’re too far from the beach!”

“Can’t go in any further!” The man shouted and when Dean looked again, he knew why.

It was madness. LCV were sinking further in the front, probably grazing some obstacles in the water. Soldiers were floating face down around them. The smell of gunpowder and explosives were penetrating. People were screaming, shells hissing around them. Soldiers that were still alive were calling out from the water and Dean shouted that they should help them, but his request was denied. “We are not allowed,” the pilot of the craft just said as he pushed the button for the deck to lower. Dean wanted to start an argument right then and there, but Cas put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. Dean shrugged it off, fucking angry at everybody and everything as he bit on his tongue.

“Good luck boys!” The pilot said, lowering the landing deck. Dean looked at Cas, nodding at his friend who visibly paled, and Dean didn’t think he looked any different.

As soon as the door were dropped low enough for the soldiers to get off, the machine guns began to tear them apart.

“Cas! Climb over the side, they’re shooting at us!” Dean called on the top of his lungs. “Everyone, get off the side!”

“Where the fuck are we?” Cas pressed into him as they found a hiding place behind an iron obstacle.

Dean doesn’t know but there’s one thing he knew for sure. The bombers did nothing on this fucking beach. There was no crater, no fucking sign of a dropped shell. Nothing.

Before Dean could answer, Mills was next to him too and upon realizing that Dean doesn’t even have a rifle because he abandoned his at the bottom of the sea, Mills ordered Dean to go get a new one. He climbed over dead bodies, the water underneath his hands was red and thick.

He somehow assembled half of his platoon, or what he assumed was half because he lost track of the number a long time ago. “Get the fuck off the beach! Move inland! Get off the beach! We’re getting murdered here!”

With their uniforms still wet, they fought their way inland and only after they defeated the Krauts in their coastal pill boxes, did they allow themselves to stop and breathe. It felt like Dean had been holding his breath for the whole time since they got off the LCV.

Dean took another deep breath and exhaled. Tears were in his eyes. He sniffed, before he opened his eyes again. His cheeks were wet and he brushed it away with the back of his hand that was not holding Jamie’s.

He didn’t have to look at her to know that she wasn’t looking up. He knew that she always found it hard to look at him whenever he cried. She told him once that she felt like her heart broke every time, and Dean couldn’t say that he didn’t feel the same way when he saw her tears. Instead she squeezed his hand. It was to let him know that she was there. Dean knew that, too.

There’s another inhale before he started to say something.

“Okay.” And then again with a sigh. “Okay.”

He took a step forward and dragged Jamie with him.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Stop.

He inhaled and exhaled. “I’m okay,” he said, to nobody in particular. Mostly to himself.

Jamie replied with a squeeze of his hand.

Dean took another step.

Another one and another.

Until the waves crawled up the sand just below their toes.

It was wet and sticky around their feet.

They stood there in silence, until the water reached around their toes, making them sink in lower into the sand.

Dean chuckled, and when Jamie looked up at him, he was full on smiling down at her. “Thank you, Bambi.”

June 1st, 1946

Hi Sammy,

Jamie’s having her last week at the nursing school, and I just put Hope to bed. There’s not much I can do, since Jameson went out for a date, so I thought I’d sit down to write to you.

Jamie’s almost finished with her school. She has to drop out earlier because of her gigantic tummy (don’t tell her I said that, alright?) but they granted her a BSN degree anyway, because she apparently excelled in her studies.

I accompanied her to her graduation last weekend and I can’t say that I wasn’t proud of my girl. Jamie would maybe tell you that I shed a tear, but there was just really something in my eye, I swear!

She introduced me to some of her classmates. The majority of them had loved ones in the war. I mean, that was no surprise, since we were so fucking many over there! One of the girls was there with her boyfriend. He asked me where I was stationed overseas, and I told him I was with the 116th Regiment, 29th Infantry Division and was fighting in Normandy.

“My brother was with the 29th too,” the guy said.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t want to know if I would have known him because I knew what would follow.

“He didn’t make it back.” The man looked me up and down, as if he’s checking to see if I had scratches, scars or a missing limb from the war. “You were in the same Division. Yet, you are here and he’s not…. Huh.”

I could see the tears welling up in his eyes, Sammy. I swallowed hard and suddenly, it felt too hard to breathe. There’s someone standing across from me who questioned my existence. As if I’m not doing enough of it on my own already. I could hear it in his voice, even if he didn’t say it. Something that sounded like “Why do you think you deserve to be here while my brother gave his life for this country.” Of course he didn’t say it like that, and I seriously couldn’t say anything else than “I’m sorry. I’m sure your brother fought bravely.” Jamie came along and dragged me away before it could get any more awkward.

Anyway, I try not to think about it too much. I’ve signed up for a business program, by the way. My boss at the garage was thinking that maybe I could take over one day. He’s a real great guy, Sam. He’d lost his son, who was fighting on Peleliu. Said I remind him of his son. I’m so thankful for the offer and yes, soon I’ll be studying Business on the GI Bill. I’m grateful for it, because I don’t know if we could cover the cost with our growing family.

Sam, Jamie took me to the beach. Can you imagine? I was terrified, not gonna lie, but it was good. I had to get over the fear eventually. It took me longer than I thought it would, though. All the while Jamie just waited, my hand in hers. I closed my eyes for a minute, thinking about what happened the last time I was at a beach, almost two years ago. I drowned out the voices and noises in my head, and when I opened my eyes again, all I saw was the beauty of the beach. The sand between my toes, the salt tinted breeze, the calmness of the waves. It was great. I think I finally made my peace with it. Took me fucking long enough.

Jamie bought me swimming trunks, by the way. Honestly, I wouldn’t even like to be caught dead in them, but I guess that’s what people wear nowadays, huh? Her dream would be that we could all go swimming one day, but you know that I can’t swim, right? Anyway, I really wanna be able to do that for her but she’s too big to teach me, so Jameson is giving me swimming lessons down by the lake. We always say that we’re going to the bar downtown, and I don’t think she really believes us but she never presses any further.

“Hi”, Jamie leaned against the door to the study in her flowery maternity dress, and her hair up into a bun. She smiled when Dean turned his attention to her.

“Hi.” He returned her smile.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.” Dean nods. “I’ll be right with you.”

She frowned. “No you won’t.” Jamie walked into the room and stood beside him so Dean could place his arm around her waist, his cheek rested against her belly as she cradled his cheek, one hand stroking the short hair at the back of his neck. “You take your time. I’m going to check on Hope and take a shower.”

He kissed her belly. “Okay, I’ll see you in bed.”

She smiled before she walked out.

Jamie just came home, Sammy. I think I’ll draw a line here, too. My fingers are starting to hurt. I am thankful for the notebook. I really am. I think it’s easier for me to put my thoughts into words — to have an outlet for all the things that I have in my head. Even if I have people around me who had been through the same, they still didn’t go through what I went through. Jamie wasn’t a prisoner, and I am fucking thankful that she went home before shit got serious. I don’t even want to imagine what they would have done to her if they would have found her with me. I don’t even want to think of all the horrors, because it would only make me angry.

You know, they have psychiatrists working for the Army. I tried it once, but they only said “Try to act normal then you will begin to think normal, too.” That’s like an hour of my life that I will never get back. Try acting normal. The fuck does that mean anyway?

Ah, I shouldn’t work myself up now. I need to calm down and honestly, I can’t wait to slip into the bed next to Jamie, maybe listen to what she has to say about her day, I like that. Like to listen to her everyday life, it makes me think that sometimes the world isn’t so cruel to me after all. Honestly I still don’t know how I deserve all this. Deserve to come home, have kids, be with my girl… I wish you could be here, Sam.

I miss you very much.

Good night.

Dean

Dean closes his notebook and walked into the bathroom as Jamie brushed her teeth. He took a toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it before he brushed his own teeth, eyes Jamie through the little mirror screwed to the wall. He thought that she looked exhausted, more so tonight than on any other night. He’s worried about her. She needed to rest. Maybe he’d whisk her away the coming weekend and go somewhere just the two of them.

“Stop staring,” Jamie said, spitting out toothpaste. She rinsed her brush, a playful frown on her face.

“I’m not.” He laughed when Jamie sent him a gaze with her lips curved into a grin before she walked out.

June 2nd, 1946

SAMMY THEY ARE COMING!

..To Be Continued.

@dean-winchesters-bacon @beautifulbowleggedangel @flamencodiva @weepingwillowphoenix @adoptdontshoppets @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @mrswhozeewhatsis @katehuntington @mariekoukie6661

#with all my heart #part 2 #dean winchester #dean winchester au fic #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction

53 notes · View notes

darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

Text

“Sleepover Like We've Never Had Before”

Summary: Griffin and Faragonda’s sleepover is steering in a new direction when so have been they. It has the potential to bring them closer or tear them apart with the impact of an embrace or a crash.

Set when they were students in an AU to my headcanons for that period. The end deviates from the sfw label a bit.

“It seems cozy,” Faragonda said, barely pausing before the lie slipped off her tongue. Granted, she was trying to be polite but Griffin was a bit annoyed by it when there was no need for pleasantries between them. Also, probably because even Faragonda’s compliments couldn’t make her dorm room seem any more comfortable than it was.

“Suffocating you mean?” she offered to see Faragonda give a sympathetic smile that was appreciated even if it didn’t save her from the nightmare of the constricted dorm room she needed to share with Ediltrude and Zarathustra.

The two had gone home for a few days to make sure their father was okay. He’d caught some kind of magical flu and they’d headed back home to heal him–Zarathustra had packed almost all of her potion ingredients–since they knew he was likely to just ignore his condition until it got the best of him and caused complications. They’d tried to act annoyed but Griffin had seen the panic hiding beneath the complaining, their gestures more frantic rather than irritated. They didn’t have the best relationship with their father but after the death of their mother had left them all angry and suffering, they were more terrified of losing him as well than they would ever admit. Probably because they had already lost some of the connection they’d had with him when their mother had still been with them and they didn’t want to find out how much worse it would be with him gone too.

Griffin had offered to go with them but they’d refused and she’d known not to insist when they’d brought up the argument that she’d be breaking the rules without reason to skip school. They both cared about rules as much as she did so it meant they didn’t want her with them if they were trying to pull off that excuse. Griffin could only guess what their reasons were for keeping her separated but she had to respect their boundaries even as she worried about them.

She’d called Faragonda to keep her company and have a sleepover. It hadn’t been so long since their last sleepover in the summer at Griffin’s house before they’d headed back to school but it was the first one where they would be completely alone with no parents to check on them. If they didn’t count the Cloud Tower teachers that could totally get them busted if they weren’t careful and they would both be in trouble. Griffin – for sneaking a fairy in Cloud Tower, and Faragonda – for staying out of Alfea past curfew. It was a solid risk to take, yet that somehow didn’t seem to bother either one of them when they were together.

“What?” Faragonda asked and Griffin needed the seconds it took her to blink a few times to realize she’d grabbed Faragonda’s arm before she could have sat down on Ediltrude’s bed.

“Nothing,” she released her, perhaps rather reluctantly or it was just her brain that wasn’t functioning at full speed and made things look slowed down. It was unusual since time spent with Faragonda always flew by so quickly and left her wishing they could have more opportunities to just be together without worrying about judgment because of the clear line their friendship was stepping over. “Just a habit,” she added after Faragonda’s questioning look didn’t settle with just that. “Ediltrude’s snakes usually lounge there but she took them with her.”

Griffin had gotten used to them enough not to pay them any mind even when they found their way into her own bed and slithered over her but she was sure she couldn’t take care of them no matter how soon the twins would be back. It had forced Ediltrude to risk smuggling them out and then back in which remained a challenge no matter how many times she’d done it already. Griffin wasn’t sure how they still hadn’t gotten caught but she knew they couldn’t afford to relax as that was bound to draw the problems to them.

“Perhaps I should just sit on your bed then,” Faragonda probably had the right idea considering Zarathustra wasn’t the tidiest person when it came to her potion work. Not that Faragonda knew that. “Just to be sure there’s nothing that can leap at me unexpectedly,” she added and Griffin could understand how she was uncomfortable with the idea of the snakes ever having been in the bed even if they weren’t now but she couldn’t help the feeling that Faragonda was looking for an excuse to sit on her bed.

It was odd when there was no need for that. They’d never had a problem with proximity and she hoped to keep it that way. Even if there were other things changing.

“Feel at home,” Griffin let a teasing glint in her eyes even though her heart wasn’t quite in tune and was doing excited leaps in her throat instead. She was just happy they could be themselves while together and were no longer separated by their differences. Those even made for lighthearted jokes now. “It seems that you are anyway. With all that rulebreaking you’ve committed today.” Griffin smiled slyly as if she wasn’t right there with Faragonda.

“For you – always,” Faragonda came closer and the sound of her heels was like a trigger that released panic in Griffin’s heart and mind. Faragonda would need just another step to get too close to her where it would be impossible to ignore the change in their relationship that had started out slowly and had kept speeding up, leaving Griffin afraid it would crash like an out of control car but unable to tear herself away from the rush of adrenaline coming from the race against inevitability. Or at least it seemed like that was what it was no matter how hard Griffin hoped that was the one time she was wrong. It would mean they’d both been wrong in thinking they belonged even closer than they already were if they got torn apart.

“Well, now that we have this… tiny space in Cloud Tower,” she couldn’t really call it a kingdom if it hardly qualified for a shoebox even, “what shall we do with it?” she asked as she plopped herself down on her bed. The action brought more comfort than she’d expected when her mind was weighed down with wariness and she’d been afraid it would plunge through the mattress and somewhere out of her reach.

She hadn’t really planned anything and all their entertainment would have to remain confined to the room. It didn’t leave them with too many opportunities, especially considering they had to keep it down as well. Unless they felt like soundproofing, of course, but she had a feeling Faragonda wouldn’t be more inclined to use her magic for that than she was.

“We could always drink some tea and just talk,” Faragonda said, making Griffin smile at how simple yet deep things were between them as it was true.

They could–and had–spend all night talking about anything on their minds and it was the freest she had felt. Not even her magic could give her that when it was what earned her judgment most of the time even if people weren’t right in their prejudices. She’d had to struggle to keep her pride in her powers and with Faragonda it was always effortless. She didn’t have to do anything or be anything that she wasn’t just to be accepted – by Faragonda and by herself. Faragonda didn’t just make it easy to love her. She made it easy to love herself as well. Easier than it had ever been without her support.

“How about some games?” The suggestive smile on Faragonda’s lips was anything but reassuring. No sparkly outfits and wings would be able to get the witchy upbringing out of her and while Griffin normally found that oddly endearing, she dreaded it now. It could only mean one thing.

Griffin groaned as she rolled her eyes. “Truth or Dare,” she spat out as if that was the vilest thing in existence. Frankly, she was sick of it and even her love for Faragonda had its boundaries which the fairy was starting to push with her go-to game.

“I was actually thinking about strip poker,” Faragonda said and at least the mischievous smirk made sense now even if Griffin was still struggling to process the suggestion. “It seems on brand for tonight,” Faragonda apparently noticed her difficulty to grasp what was happening. “Gambling and nudity aren’t exactly in line with school rulebooks, whether Alfea or Cloud Tower.” Faragonda’s justification worked about as much as the twins’ for leaving Griffin behind had.

“Sounds like a solid plan,” Griffin tried to adapt to the speed with which Faragonda was steering them. It would be a shame to fall out of the loop before she’d seen where that road ended even if it could turn out to be the less painful option. She couldn’t resist the temptation of the treasure that could wait at the end destination if she was brave enough to get there. “Except that I can’t play poker,” she said, almost angry with Ediltrude that she hadn’t taught her when she literally had cards up her sleeves more often than not. Granted, those were tarot cards but Griffin had seen the loot Ediltrude had gotten from some seniors the previous year from gambling with them. She knew her way around playing cards as well.

Of course, the little bump on the road had a positive side as well. Now she could see Faragonda’s reaction which could be the peek in her head that she needed. Things between them weren’t quite as clear as she’d like them to be but that was to be expected with how foggy her head got every time she felt the softness of Faragonda’s lips pressed against hers and their fingers tangled together the way their souls had been for years now.

They’d found themselves kissing at the very beginning of the summer vacation in Griffin’s room to only break it up when they’d heard her mom in the corridor and while they hadn’t let things get awkward, Griffin had been convinced the reason for that had been that Faragonda had been staying with her for the whole summer. It had kept happening, however, and with increasing repetition at that, both of them getting bolder not just in touching, but in talking about it as well. They stopped pretending the kisses hadn’t existed and acknowledged them even if that was only in whispered praises to the other that never poured over the confines of the moment since they weren’t quite sure what to do. At least Griffin wasn’t.

That had held true until just over a week ago when they’d walked back from Magix through the forest and the secluded place had left them with wandering hands that had ended up with Faragonda pressed between her and the trunk of a tree and grinding on Griffin’s thigh pushed between her own. Griffin had been torn between kissing her and drinking in the sweet sounds she’d been making or letting them flow around them freely so that she could enjoy them to the fullest and she couldn’t have been bothered with anything but the exquisite torment of that choice as she’d alternated the two options. Anything except for her alarm that had gone off and jerked them out of their fascination with each other so abruptly she’d felt like a part of her soul had remained caught between Faragonda’s lips. Faragonda had had to get back to Alfea on time and not earn herself detention or any other punishment that would keep them from seeing each other again. The moment had been broken and they’d avoided talking about it afraid of the sharp pieces and all the ways in which they could cut them.

“Strip chess then?” Faragonda didn’t seem fazed by what could have been taken as rejection if they didn’t know each other so well. But they did, which was exactly why Griffin could see the way Faragonda was holding her breath from its usual rhythm as there was only so much she could do against anticipation.

“You really want to see me naked,” Griffin didn’t make it a question on purpose even if it felt like she was pushing too much. But that was exactly the point and she got her answer as Faragonda didn’t really try to object to the playful accusation giving them both their sentence. “You should have just said so,” Griffin struggled not to let her voice drop down all the way to a whisper when she was supposed to be confident in their… feelings for each other. It wasn’t hypocrisy on her part. Just a confession of her confidence in Faragonda being bigger than that in herself.

Still, she reached for her magic as she didn’t have the nerves to undress manually–not to mention the bravery to risk having her hands shake while she did it–and let it take the clothes away to give access to her body to Faragonda’s gaze. There was a split second’s hesitation whether to remove everything before she pushed her magic to make sure it wouldn’t leave any fabric in the way. She’d always let Faragonda see all of her and she had no reason to change that now.

She still shied away from meeting Faragonda’s gaze and some aggressive impulse had her moving to get up and let the fairy see all of her when Griffin refused to find the soothing blue of her eyes.

Faragonda’s hand was grasping at her and pulling her in the comfort of her body before she could leave the bed where they were together. She must have read the negativity in Griffin’s mind and was jumping to the rescue like she always did. Only, this time it was more like diving when her lips met Griffin’s and her mouth was surely flooded by the witch’s breath that rushed out of her excitedly as if it knew it was wanted in Faragonda’s lungs.

Faragonda’s lips only pressed closer to hers and her tongue tangled with Griffin’s as if in an attempt to weave back that piece of her soul that had been ripped away the previous week before they could have sunk completely into each other. It was working, too, as Faragonda’s desire and trust was filling Griffin up until there was nothing that could ache with emptiness. She was full, whole, and it was something she’d never known she could have as she was only experiencing it now. She was sure she didn’t want it to end, though. Never.

She allowed herself to stop grasping at Faragonda like she was a lifeline and give a slight push to her shoulders. A suggestion the fairy let herself fall into and Griffin had her pressed into the mattress faster than either of them could comprehend, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Their bodies fit together just like their souls always had and Griffin could hear both their hearts in the quietness of the room that didn’t dare interfere with the perfect harmony they made for.

Griffin still broke the kiss and let Faragonda’s panting calm down before she let her make a decision that could greatly impact both their lives. “Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes finding Faragonda’s far easier now that she didn’t feel vulnerable in her nakedness with both of them exposed.

Faragonda took a moment to let them both know she wasn’t jumping in without thinking before she answered. “I am,” she said before her confidence seemed to evaporate and almost left Griffin afraid the intensity of her own golden stare was too much for the fairy to handle. Faragonda didn’t look away and only held tighter to her instead, her hands still on Griffin’s waist where they’d been the whole time as if she’d been afraid of disrespecting their connection if she allowed herself to explore and Griffin was grateful for the consideration since she wasn’t sure she could quite call it unnecessary. “I just have to tell you that… I haven’t had sex yet,” Faragonda admitted after just a moment that Griffin was sure was more searching for the right words rather than hesitation.

“I know,” Griffin said softly and started unbuttoning Faragonda’s shirt only after she relaxed in her hands and the words.

They hadn’t directly talked about it but she’d known that Faragonda was still a virgin just like Faragonda had known that she wasn’t. And they’d both known that the other hadn’t seen anyone else since the kisses had started. Not even in the months after the beginning of the school year when they hadn’t been constantly together and there’d been enough room between them to stuff with some secrets but they hadn’t allowed themselves to dishonor the sacredness of their relationship like that. Honesty had always been what they’d thrived on and that didn’t get to change no matter what else did. It was that openness that lent Griffin enough faith in their relationship for her to stop fearing for its survival and help it grow instead.

“I’ll make sure you’ll get only enjoyment out of this,” she promised as she kept working on the shirt, a bit more hurriedly now that Faragonda’s skin was peeking underneath and luring her closer.

She’d complicated the process of undressing a little by getting Faragonda underneath her but she could do it–it would even stop her from rushing through it and making good on her promise–although she hadn’t done that before. Faragonda was the first woman she was sleeping with and in her own bed in Cloud Tower. It was a first for her as well and it was more than special, leaving her determined to make it so for Faragonda as well.

“It won’t be a sleepover if I chase you away before morning,” she joked to swipe away any nervousness there might have been in the fairy. “I can’t let you go before you’re satisfied with your stay,” she said and the smile on Faragonda’s face was all the stop her heart needed to keep from crashing.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx faragonda #griffin x faragonda #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

9 notes · View notes

birdlingstarot · 4 years

Note

Hiii (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧ May I ask about my connection between my boyfriend David and me, please? I think of him as someone I want to share my life with, and I have a feeling we may have met in another life. Thank you –Alejandra

Hello 🌻 Alejandra!

A little birdie told me this 🕊

To start right off, I did get the feeling that the both of you have a deep connection within yourself and are proud to have each other. Both of you really boost each others’ confidence within themselves and each other which is a really beautiful connection. I wish the both of you the best in this relationship. 😊

What is the nature of your relationship with David? 55 - Taming the Wind; 33 - Magic

This relationship is probably something you did not expect initially and came into your life like a whirlwind. There’s an intense connection and feelings between the both of you. Both of you is a power couple and is able to push each other to better yourselves as well as face challenges with courage and fearlessness.

Both of you provide a huge sense of security for each other despite how ‘wild’ the relationship was.

This relationship is like magic and both of you were decently surprised at it, especially with it seemingly looking to be ‘too good to be true’. It is likely a high level soulmate connection that both of you shared which explains your feeling of having met in the previous life.

The reoccurring numbers of ‘5′ and ‘3′ could hold importance to either of you - such as dates of events or it could mean something big could happen or is happening with you and/or your partner if you see those numbers reoccurring (3333 / 333 or 5555 / 555). The digital clock is one of the most common ways you could see them. [Don’t force it though.]

Both of you compliment each other well and is able to protect each other from harm in your own unique ways. Both of you are quite in touch with your feminine energy (which represents your emotions) which meant well as both of you know what you want and feel and is able to communicate with each other without much issues.

One of you is more nurturing in terms of emotions which helped the other with theirs and the other is more cautious of people which protect the other from potential harm from the people around them.

Despite both of you being in touch with your feminine energy, one of you is actually much more masculine in energy with provides a good compliment to the other’s more feminine energy.

Both of you holds strong feelings and respect for the other. It is likely to be a lasting relationship, even one for a lifetime.

Potential hiccups in your relationship. [ It might relate to the both of you so I feel that it might do the relationship and the both of you good if you share it with your partner, David, as well. 😊 ]

34 - Hummingbird Spirit; Be here now!

There might be times when one of you become too invested in the future, such as future plans and dreams, which is not a bad thing. However, be sure that you will take actions towards it.

For instance, you might dream about taking a trip together to another country like Spain. If you don’t take actions such as working overtime to earn extra money or saving up, it is unlikely it will be fulfilled.

Another note is that one of you might become too invested in the potential of your relationship or of the other person. What this could result in is that one of you might overlook qualities or actions that should be called out on which could damage the relationship further in the future.

See things as how it should in the present and communicate. Don’t explode at the other person but talk it out and compromise, which I am sure both of you could do.

Thirdly, take time to live in the present and enjoy yourselves, If things get rough, take time off to calm down and heal. Indulge in yourselves for a little bit, daydream and go flying [a kite too? it’ll be cute if both of you fly a kite together, back-hugging??? 👀👀👀] Basically, do something that is not as grounded, relating to air, wind, flying etc. or even surrounding yourselves with people who are air dominant ( Gemini, Libra, Aquarius ) and communicate, talk about different things compared to the usual, philosophy, debates etc.

Also, go back to your roots when things get rough. Remember why you are doing things.

Indulge in your passion from time to time like your hobbies, take up something new ( and the... adult fun too).

In addition, remember to appreciate the present. The you now as well as your partner now, how they are, how they look etc. Remember to compliment each other as making the other feel good will bring you happiness as well.

57 - Squirrel Spirit; Believe in yourself.

One major thing that might happen (which goes for the both of you) is that your partner becomes a huge part of you, your identity. When the other is not present, it could very well seem like you are lost and can’t do anything without the other.

Remember to take time to yourself and away from each other (which is not a bad thing per say, something along the lines of distance makes the heart grows fonder? and both of you will become more appreciative and love each other more.). You need time and space to regain and solidify your own sense of identity, that you are your own person.

A partner is there to help and support but they shouldn’t be such a big part of who you are to the point of being helpless or even almost helpless without them.

Another issue that might arise is that both of you could make decisions based on what the other said. It does not mean that you shouldn’t share your troubles with each other, but rather you don’t have to ask your partner to make a decision on everything. There are some decisions you can make for yourselves.

This could lead to excessive clinging, over possessiveness, jealousy and reliance etc, which is another whole issue in itself.

All in all, remember that you are your own person. That you are capable and able to achieve and get what you desire, relating to aspects outside your romantic relationship, by yourself.

A relationship should not define who you are but support and compliment the already existing you.

65 - Whale Spirit; Trust in the great mystery.

One of you might be very interested in this relationship and it’s justified. You’re curious and that’s alright, even good as you can learn things that you might not know before.

However, it might go to the point that you want to know each and every little details and crevices of the relationship - how it will go etc.

There are things that you are meant to not know and just experience as that is the most important aspect, You could become so invested in learning and uncovering this relationship that you fail to appreciate and experience the relationship in the current moment.

It’s okay to not know. Trust in yourself, each other and the relationship. It will go how it should. Just enjoy the ride.

It’s okay to dive deep and learn but you have to understand and accept that there will always be things that will still be hidden from you and that’s okay. It’s part of what gives this the magical feeling.

There’s no reason for you to remove that from the relationship by fully learning about what caused it.

Communicate with your partner and just enjoy the moment. Take each other out of it if they get too invested. Also, you don’t want to end up unintentionally not giving your partner attention.

18 - Deer Spirit; Bring a gentle touch.

One or both of you might be very volatile or tend to hold onto things for a long time especially when it comes to arguments.

With each other, it is important to remember to communicate calmly to each other or take the time to calm down become working things out. Don’t get too rough with words with each other, such as attacking each other with things that is not even part of the argument.

Don’t say unnecessary things that will hurt the other especially with arguments.

Apologising as well, make sure it does not come out as off-handed.

Also, be gentle when forgiving each other. Don’t put on the front as if you are reluctantly accepting their apology.

In addition, don’t be too hard on yourselves. If you did something wrong or hurt your partner, apologise and learn from it. Don’t keep beating yourselves up about it. You are meant to make mistakes and learn from them. Mistakes does not define who you are as long as you make an effort to improve. Don’t keep falling back to the same old habits if it harms you, your partner and the relationship.

Also, both of you could very well be protective of each other and your relationship. This doesn’t mean it is bad but rather, you might be explosive when people outside your relationship comments on it or about you and/or your partner in the relationship.

You might have a tendency to lash out at them and it could very well put you in a bad light. Communicate calmly with them.

Bring a gentle touch to every aspects of your life and communicate calmly. It’s okay to protect you, your partner and your relationship but don’t insult another even if they insulted yours. Don’t place yourselves in a bad light and by extension, your position as it is also a method of protecting you, your partner and your relationship.

Listen to others as well, sure it sucks to hear the opinion of another about your relationship, but it could bring underlying issues to light that the both of you should work on. Stay open and don’t lash out at others.

[ Does your partner have a mustache or beard? I get a feeling that he might have or at least is interested in having one. 😂 also, one or both of you might look younger than you are. That the partner find that the other have a very child-like quality and innocence to them that they enjoy and adore, (and wants to protect) ]

[Why are you guys so cute?]

All the best for your relationship!

Support and love each other!

We hope the both of you will overcome any obstacles and challenges that comes your way! 😁

We hope this had helped you, 🌻 Alejandra!

For now, the little birdie shall return home 🏡 ~ Ring our doorbell whenever!

Rest well 💤 ~

6 notes · View notes

not-a-red-rose · 4 years

Text

Bit of a long read.

Warning: Topics are somehow sensitive, but please read, for this is also a way of education (or maybe you’ll just find out I’m a bad person, that depends lol.) But if you’ve got time, if you can make time, please read this. I accept constructive criticisms, some arguments that do not involve ad hominem, and additions if ever you are willing to say there is.

So, it's been approximately 5 years since I strayed away from being masungit and maldita (mean and snobby), because my Mom and Dad got a lot of trouble because of it (I did get a lot of trouble, too, only I didn't mind, because I really didn't care) and now I love being compassionate and kind

I really do, because I can't also stand an environment where most of the people are mean-spirited and always angry. I wanted to build a soft and light environment, so I tried to be soft and light, too.

Because change starts within, don’t you think?

So I did, and I became very good at it.

It feels great to see and watch people grow comfortable with their own skin around you because you don't judge them. It feels great to see and watch people love themselves more because they can see that you love them for who they are. It feels great to make people feel great and give them the love they deserve, because we are all human, and we don't deserve to always be shut down by people who suffer inside of themselves. So we create bonds, we love people for who they are, we eat with them, we cry with them, we laugh with them, we pat their backs when they are defeated and helpless, we shout “I’m proud of you!” to their faces when we feel proud of them, and we begin being kind.

But now that I have been terribly woken up by realizations, shaped by my experiences, and taught with other's advices, I am also beginning to see the predators in our forest.

I will sometimes think that maybe we aren't always aware that we are being predators, sometimes we are as clueless as the preys and we don't know any better. Sometimes we can be the toxic ones, too, so there is no point in stopping our self-development and realizations. Everyone starts as clueless and inexperienced— oftentimes, a monster isn’t a monster because he is evil, it is because he refuses to change so, even when he knows he is.

Bad people only become truly bad when they don’t care about being better.

I am not perfect, I am not all-knowing, I became a predator, too, for far too many times than I can count, and I am still trying and learning how not to be. But here are some of the things I realized:

• The awful mindset of our society is that if someone's kind, they are supposed to tolerate everything you do. (even and especially gaslighting, guilt-tripping, backstabbing then denying it later, always saying "yes," and being soft even when hurt and angry.)

No. People who are kind do not deserve such abuse and manipulation (we don’t deserve abuse and manipulations,) so please, quit saying, “mabait naman ‘yan si ano e, okay lang ‘yan sa kan’ya!” (Don’t stress about it too much, she’s kind, so that’ll be okay for her!)

And what, you’re going to victim-blame again? You’ll say, “you’re too kind, you’re teaching people to step all over you.” Dude, I’m not teaching them anything like that, really, they are teaching that to themselves because they want to abuse and take advantage of the kindness. If there is no kindness because kind people took your advice to not be kind so people won’t step all over them, then what would become of our world? Common sense, sweetheart.

• Normalize saying no. If you mean no, say no. If you mean maybe, say maybe. If you mean I’ll try, say I’ll try. If you mean yes, say yes. Normalize saying and receiving no, not everyone has to agree and do what you suggest them to do.

Normalize saying no, if no is what you want to say. I don't care if they hail you as a saint and they label you as someone who tolerates everything. Say no if you mean no. Say it firmly. Don't waver. Your voice may shake but say no if what you mean is no.

(“Normalize saying no” doesn't just tackle suitors and people who want to be your lover. This also tackles people you don't want to spend time with, things you don't want to do, places you don't want to go to, words you don't want to say, and etc.)

say no. say it loudly. say it firmly.

• Unfortunately, we are not educated about gaslighting and guilt-tripping, or any psychological/mental manipulations, enough to defend our own selves from manipulators, narcissists, and terrible behaviors of people.

We should be educated.

Please read verified and credible articles about it, listen to classes when it’s the topic, research about it, observe it. You may be doing it, too, so please learn about it.

• We should stay away from "friends" who hurt, invalidate, manipulate, abuse, and force you to do things you do not want to do. I don't care if it makes you alone-- alone is better than being with people who will just use and hurt you.

• Do not try to repaint red flags. Red flags are red flags, unless you are color blind, although please do not be figuratively color blind. If you cannot settle it through peaceful conversations and negotiations, it’s time to cut ties. CUT TIES. No one is important enough, for you to stay with them even when they exhaust and drain the hell outta you. Let them go. If they don’t wanna walk away, then you do the walking away. Don’t stay there. Life is too short to deal with people who take and take and take and take your peace and who obliges you to fix them.

• I do not have any idea how to say this properly— but you cannot expect your romantic partner/ lover to take the heavy weight of your mental messes and emotional baggage just because you cannot deal with it yourself. Stop dropping all the weight to someone and expecting them to fix you because you are broken.

I am not invalidating the love lives of lovers who stay through each other’s destructive jealousies and insecurities— I am only saying that we don’t have to. We aren’t obligated to fix an individual just because we love them. That’s what’s cruel there, when we find someone we can and will love and we would like them to be in our future, but they come across as toxic and draining and destructive, and they don’t want to adjust to be a better person, we gotta let go of them.

It is always your choice if you’re going to stay with them— if you can and you want to, then stay. If you can’t and you don’t want to, then don’t.

This may sound harsh and (even) evil, but normalize leaving people when you cannot deal with them any longer. Normalize leaving people. Normalize people leaving you. Those who can and who want to stay will stay, will always find reasons to come back, and will always stay. Remember that.

• Normalize rebuking and criticizing the ideas of the people who make rape, poverty, mental illness, and anything-that-shouldn’t-be-joked-about jokes. Normalize criticizing, standing up to it whether it came from your parents, a very dear friend, or a romantic partner. Sensitivity shall not be filtered. Respect shall not be filtered. Note that I said “ideas of the people” not “the people” because we should not hate people so easily, maybe they just need a little education, a little more push to leave that mindset and perspective.

Well, if they have been presented with enough and sufficient facts of why they shouldn’t think like that and shouldn’t joke about that, but they still haven’t changed their mind, let us go back to what I said earlier.

Bad people only become truly bad when they don’t care about being better. :>

• Say what you mean and mean what you say (this one is the hardest so far because man, we are reckless with words.) Like what I said earlier— about the saying no. If you say yes, darling, I do hope you mean yes. If you make a promise, do your best to meet it! Treat your words like they represent your dignity, because oftentimes, they do. You believe it or not, words are powerful. It can heal and mend, but it can also tarnish and destroy.

“The words you speak become the house you live in.” ― Hafiz

• We all need healing. We all have wounds we need to heal from. I do not know jack about your problems and you might not know about mine, but we cannot deny that we need healing. Because if we deny, and we think that we’re a-ok even when we are not, the wounds will remain wounds and we will bleed on people who did not cause it. We will punish others because we are experiencing anguish inside of us. Do not let that be you. Be soft on yourself enough to acknowledge that you are hurt and in need of healing— that way, you are soft and tender with others, too.

• What you feel isn’t always what I feel, and what I feel isn’t always what you feel. We have different capacities, different perspectives, different emotional wavelengths. What’s trouble for me can not be trouble for you, and vice versa. However, that does not give us any power to disregard what others feel. We need a lot of understanding in this life, and acceptance towards the diversity of every aspect in our lives. Respect is needed, always respect. Respect should be the default (that being a default, it can also be lost).

(But this^^ doesn’t always apply to all things such as being homophobic and racist, because that perspective and mindset drives one to disrespect existence, and even act out violently, set prejudices and be downright inhumane. That is not what I am talking about.)

This is not all, but if I type all I might accidentally write a book about it, so this stops, for now. Note that your understanding of the words I’ve said depends on how well you interpret it, whether you have prejudices or you do not, whether you will use it for good purposes or for bad.

#quarantine thoughts #midnight thoughts #normalize #society #societal #behavioral #mental #psychological #analysis #realizations #accepting arguments about this #don't be shy to argue with me #but please no ad hominem

4 notes · View notes

lilithsgayadoptednephew · 4 years

Text

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Chapter List

Chapter 12

House arrest was a nightmare, and it didn't go without protest. One look at Lucifer's face, however, and all arguments died on their tongues. It wasn't so bad, the house was big and they could still open windows and stuff. Levi didn't even notice anything had changed.

Lucifer still went to RAD every day to retrieve their assignments and attend to student council responsibilities. Outside of those circumstances he tried to stay indoors as well out of solidarity.

Meanwhile Acacias news app was spelling out only bad news as the days went by. The death toll finally crossed one million. People were so afraid of the demonic attacks they were turning to all sorts of religions for help. Mass prayers and saiances were being held. People accused of being satanists or witches were being arrested in the best cases.

Hunted down by neighbors in the worst.

It was grim, but the humans kept their spirits up as they lived out the long days locked in the house of Lamentation. The brothers were not doing quite as well.

Mixing rising tensions with close quarters and no means of escape was not a good recipe. They were like feral dogs snapping at each other whenever they crossed each other's path. Beel and Belphie had the kitchen under lockdown, making sure they saw exactly what everyone took and how much. Levi's room was now without a door handle, 'can't get in if there's nothing to open the door with' was his logic.

Asmo was slowly healing from his attack, but he'd seemed to have fallen into a depression since the lockdown. He never left his room, hardly even got out of bed. He was always on his phone texting or calling someone. That or he was sleeping, but on his stomach to avoid aggravating his injury.

Satan had gone completely cold. He spoke to no one, looked at no one, and read like stopping would mean his death. They suspected he was stressed and angry as well, but he showed no outside signs. He showed no emotion at all.

Acacia and MC had escaped the terror on Earth by moving to the Devildom, but they'd also trapped themselves in a stress-fueled house of abject misery. MC often fiddled with the bow shaped earring they were given. Wondering if and when they would have to use it. They loved the brothers, they really did, but they knew all to well how unpredictable they could be under pressure.

They stuck close to Acacia at all times.

That is until they started to notice a change in the boys.

"They were all so high strung before, now we hardly see them at all."

"Maybe they're finally relaxing?" Acacia suggested.

"I don't think so" MC confessed. "I think they just...gave up"

Acacia glanced around the room. Breakfast had started a while ago and still they were the only ones there. She looked fearfully at their older sibling.

"MC...are we gonna die?"

"What? Of course not." They waved her off.

"But everything’s so dangerous now, if the most powerful demons in the Devildom can't deal with it then what chance do we have?" Her voice got high with anxiety as she spoke.

"Hey hey stop that" they placated. "We've pulled through way worse than this, remember Mom?"

"...yeah" Acacia flinched and MC instantly felt bad about using such a drastic example.

"All I'm saying is... we're not powerful demons like them. We're human . We were born to survive. We can make it through this, we always do."

Acacia seemed comforted by MCs confidence.

0Simon was walking on a razors' edge. He knew what Michael was planning, and while it was a good plan, there was no good ending for the friends he'd made in the Devildom. Once upon a time he'd looked up to Lucifer as a superior and a friend. It was hard to truly accept they were on different sides.

He couldn't outright disobey Michael, but he could try and help in other ways. All he'd done up until now was healing some human victims and relaying false messages.

Now he was doing something drastic. He shivered as he waited for the man to arrive, the one he had to go to Earth to meet with. He wanted more than anything to go back and forget this had ever happened, but there were innocents on the line. MC and their sister lived in the Devildom now and no matter what his orders were he would not let them be caught in the crossfire. He couldn't.

"Hello birdie" a voice drawled from the shadows.

"I am Simon, is that you...Abaddon?"

The man stepped into the light. Long black hair framed around a sickly grey face. Large orange eyes with rectangular pupils bore into the angel, sizing him up like a wolf would a wounded rabbit.

"That I am, and you have word of my stolen plague?"

"Y-yes" he hoped his voice wouldn't shake but he could feel the evil radiating off the angel of the abyss. "They have been used to set in motion a plot, one I wish to stop."

"Ah that is a dangerous game you play birdie." He smiled from ear to ear. "Talk like that reveals a high confidence, and I think we all know how the fall can be from such a stature."

Simon shut his eyes and braced against the memory of an old friend. Fallen for a youthful mistake. His resolve only strengthened.

"I accept the risk, will you help me?"

Abaddon narrowed his eyes at the angel, grin still in place.

"Alright." He spoke softly. From his head he took one of his horns, the appendage separating from his skull like pulling the leg off a cockroach. "Blow the narrow end and my plague will follow you. Blow the other and I will come. Be careful, if you show me any disloyalty my locusts will only leave bones of you."

"Okay" Simon shivered as he took the horn from the demon. "So I return them to you here?" He asked, but when he looked up the demon was nowhere in sight.

#obey me!#obey me fanfic #Holy Hands

1 note · View note

tyrannysaurusfloof · 5 years

Text

Snake Bite - 1

Summary: Virgil should be more concerned by the random snake in his room, and the fact that it bit him. He should. But his family are good at calming him down, and there’s one Side in particular that doesn’t want to feed his concern. Characters: Virgil, Roman, Patton, Logan, Thomas and Deceit Relationships: Platonic LAMP, Platonic LAMP/Thomas Warnings: Mild Panic Attacks

My first full length Sanders Side Fic!

Part Two || Part Three

It started with his missing headphones.

Virgil couldn’t put his finger on where they had gone, couldn’t see them by casting a glance around the room, and the very idea of that sent his usual bought of anxiety through him. He always left his headphones somewhere he could just out a hand on them, because he always needed them like that.

And now, they were gone.

His first thought was Roman had had something to do with it. The Creative Side had been in an argument with Virgil earlier that day, but even during their worst arguments, he hadn’t hidden any of the things that Virgil used as coping mechanisms. So now, not only did he had the anxious gnawing in his stomach that his headphones were gone, but Virgil also felt guilty for blaming Roman immediately, when the Side had never done anything like that before.

The easiest solution would be to ask, but Virgil couldn’t move. He needed to control the rising panic inside him before he tried to step out of his room, and the thought of even approaching any of the other Sides in a state like this only sent him to his knees. Panic was never good, eventually the feelings would leak from him to Thomas, and he could really do without that happening now. He was finally relaxing, editing done and everything on track, Virgil didn’t want to derail that.

He could find his headphones. They may have just fallen off something into the organised chaos that was his room. Having things micro-organised was really Logan’s department, and having a chaotic mess of a room was something shared between Roman and Patton. His room was a little eclectic in style, but it wasn’t a mess. He always knew where things were, which was why his headphones being missing was such a big problem.

Virgil took a deep breath. He was going around in circles, and that wasn’t good for his mounting anxiety. Shoving down his thoughts for the moment, he began to methodically search his room, moving things, sifting through them and then putting them back in complete order. When the entire room was done and it was only the closet remaining, Virgil wasn’t as calm as he would have liked to be. There was no way his headphones would have gotten caught up in his closet, meaning they weren’t in the room, meaning he had probably lost them, meaning he would have to try and get more, meaning he wouldn’t have his best coping mechanism until he did, meaning he was only going to ruin everything with heightening anxiety, meaning the other Sides were going to hate him, meaning Thomas was going to disregard all he had said when they had decided to accept him, meaning-.

When his knees hit the floor, Virgil managed to draw in a large breath and get a grip on himself. That…that train of thought was dangerous and had nearly overtaken him. If the headphones weren’t in his room, he reasoned, then they could be out in the common area of the mindscape. Or he may have left them with Logan when he spent time in the Logical Sides room. Taking another deep breath and keeping the breathing techniques Thomas had learnt throughout his struggle with anxiety in the back of his mind, Virgil opened the closet door and stuck his hand inside to rifle through the clothes in there.

Only to draw it back with a shocked exhale of breath when it caught something sharp. It almost felt like a bite, but there was nothing in his closet that could have bitten him. Then again, Virgil was pretty sure there wasn’t anything in his closet that was sharp either, so he pulled the doors open wide and began to throw the pile of clothes around trying to see what it was.

A snake, yellow and black bands running the length of its scales, came darting out from the warm pile of clothes, hissing in warning as Virgil scrambled backwards.

“Fuck!” He cursed, looking around for something heavy as the snake coiled in on itself and hissed again, poised to strike. The only thing to hand was a large book, something Virgil was pretty sure he had taken from Logan for…something or other. Right now, it didn’t matter. With his fight or flight instincts kicking in, Virgil wasn’t about to run, knowing that if he did this snake would either find somewhere else in his room to hide or it would sneak off to one of the other Sides’ rooms. Grabbing the book, he slammed it down as hard as he could, panting hard. His hand was stinging, but when he examined the bite mark - only after deciding it was safe to take his hand off the book - it was two small pin-pricks.

The door to his room burst open, Patton and Logan bursting in and Virgil swore again, jumping out his skin.

“Are you alright Kiddo, we heard a loud noise and-…is that a snake?!” Patton squealed the last part of the sentence, rushing further in and dragging Virgil backwards on instinct.

Logan glanced between the creature and Virgil, panting, sweating and clearly close to panicking. “Is it dead?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil whispered, “Can we just get rid of it?”

The Logical side had no arguments for that, disappearing from the room for a moment only to return with a sack and some tongs. He carefully lifted the snake into the bag and carried it from the room as Patton bombarded Virgil with concerned questions. Had the snake bitten him? How had it gotten in there? Was Virgil okay? Did they need to get a doctor? Was it venomous? What kind of snake was it? Virgil was trembling when Logan came back, Roman following him to find out what all the ruckus was about.

“Patton.” Logan said firmly, “Virgil needs some space.”

“I’m sorry!” Patton exclaimed, shuffling backwards to give Virgil space, his hands still hovering in front of him, wanting nothing more than to pull Virgil into a hug.

“Were you bitten, Virgil?” Logan inquired, less enthusiastic and over the top as Patton, crouching down in front of the anxious side. Virgil nodded silently. “Let me see.”

The pin pricks were stinging, but other than that there didn’t seem to be much damage. There was a small part of Virgil that was screaming at him just to just cut off his entire hand because if any venom got inside him it would be bad, but cutting off his hand would also be bad, so he ignored that voice and listened to Logan’s voice of reason instead.

He was wrapping Virgil’s hand in a compression bandage, carefully and calmly explaining the purpose of it not only for Virgil’s benefit, but for Patton’s. Roman was kneeling at Virgil’s other side, trying to sooth him as much as possible.

“It couldn’t have happened to a worse person,” He muttered when Patton shot him a quizzical look, “If any venom was injected with that bite, Virgil’s increased heart rate will have it travel around the body faster. The key is not to panic, which is easier said than done for Panic at the Everywhere.”

Logan looked mildly surprised. “Very impressive Roman.”

The Prince looked offended, “I deal with villains all the time, and some of them come in the snake variety, Logan, I have to know what I’m doing.”

“Can you all…do you think you could…just…could you step…um…” Virgil couldn’t get the complete sentence out, his bandaged hand still gripped in Logan’s own, Roman’s hands on his shoulders and Patton sitting close on his other side. All of them were touching him somehow and it was having the opposite effect from making him calm.

“Of course.” Logan realised it first, released Virgil’s hand and stood, gesturing for Roman and Patton to do the same. Patton did reluctantly, but he smiled softly when Virgil rose to his feet too, shaky but able to support himself.

“We shall monitor the bite, and if it shows no signs of envenomation, then I think you shall be fine. Besides, being inside the mindscape will mean he will heal quickly from a bite.” The logical side continued, “Do you need anything?”

“No.” Virgil whispered. He desperately needed his headphones and the chance to get out of his room because of the fear of something else being hidden in there, but he didn’t verbalise any of that.

Not that he had too.

“Well Kiddo, why don’t you come with me and we can set you up somewhere with a nice audiobook, while Roman and Logan check the rest of the room for any other nasty creepy crawlies?” Patton suggested, smiling broadly as he read exactly how Virgil was feeling.

“Snakes cannot be classified as a ‘creepy crawly’.” Logan countered before Virgil could reply, “For one, it refers to insects, specifically those with legs. A snake is neither of these and-.”

“Logan, we get it.” Virgil interrupted, and Logan looked surprised but stopped talking. “Sorry, I just…I wanna get out of here.”

“Of course, please do while Roman and I search the room.” Logan nodded.

Patton led Virgil from the room as Roman materialised his sword from nowhere and began to search the room, Logan making sure he put things back in the right place so as not to cause any more undue stress to Virgil when he came back in.

In the yard, the sack inside the rubbish bin trembled, before springing open and Deceit tumbled from it in the least graceful movement he had ever done. His head was aching and he really needed to go and lie down after being hit by such a large book.

A sinister smile spread across his lips.

The plan was in action.

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #ts deceit #Snake Bite #repost #so queue me

16 notes · View notes

floatiisms · 6 years

Text

Warning this is 1,130 words so if you read it it’s long.

Okay well I was considering staying out of this one but I’m an opinionated person™ and also I got an ask that I have to answer anyway, so why not just make it a thing.

Reminder that this is coming from the POV of someone who

A) Is an abuse survivor

B) Is a psychology major

C) writes an abuser as well as other ‘asshole’ characters

D) loves villains

And, as anyone who follows me knows, I’m not caught up on the manga, so this is coming from only what I know. That being said, I did read the bit (numbers escape me) with hawks / dabi / scar / soba. That should sum it up enough that people know what I mean

So lets start with the ask, shall we?

Mh, don’t like that, but my personal opinion on your wording aside!

- People have the right to HC whatever they want for their muse’s opinions on their abuser. Yes, canonly certain muses have ‘forgiven’ E.nji, however if someone wants to write it another way, it’s their blog and they have the right to do that.

- People have the right to avoid / not interact with Enj.i rpers, no matter what, canon or no.

Now lets break down what that means.

I write an abusive parent from Ass/assin/ation Classro/om. Do I expect people who write in that fandom to interact with that blog? No, honestly not one bit. Do I hate him? Yes - While I love how complex and interesting his character is (which is the reason I write him ofc), I hate the things he did and how he is. He’s a shitlord.

En.ji’s very similar in my eyes, except lacking the canon ‘depth’.

NO MATTER if (in canon) a person’s muse has ‘forgiven’ an abusive character or not, they are not obligated to interact with that muse. They are entitled to creating their own experience, and their own space.

NO MATTER if (in canon) a person’s muse has ‘forgiven’ an abusive character, they are not obligated to write it that way if they wish to differ their characterization.

NO MATTER if someone who writes En.ji wants to write with, say, a Rei, they are not entitled to simply because of canon relations.

E.nji is an abuser. This is canon. And due to that, En.ji is triggering. That is fact. If someone wants to avoid En.ji, then THAT’S THEIR RIGHT. If someone wants their muse to avoid En.ji then THAT’S THEIR RIGHT. Just like it’s who the fuck ever’s right to write En.ji if they so please.

Now wait, why do I keep putting quotes around forgiving? Because forgiving your abuser in a healthy way, it doesn’t look like “oh it’s okay now lets sit down and eat Soba and pretend everything is fine” which is what? This argument is making me feel you see it is? (Actually that’s ignoring abuse and devaluing your trauma, typically)

So wait, what does forgiving your abuser look like? Well...

It doesn’t always involve the abuser.

Sometimes contact isn’t possible and, frequently, contact isn’t healthy. Sometimes the abuser doesn’t apologize. Even if the abuser is truly sorry and openly repents, forgiveness is about the victim’s healing. It can happen with or without them being involved.

It doesn’t mean reconciliation.

rec·on·cil·i·a·tion 1.the restoration of friendly relations.

You can forgive someone and not reconcile with them. You can forgive someone and acknowledge that their presence isn’t healthy for you. You can forgive someone, and now seek a relationship with them.

It doesn’t mean quickly moving on, or overlooking the wrong.

We’re back to ‘lets just pretend it didn’t happen’ not being healthy. Forgiveness is a journey, and even if someone characterizes their En.ji as trying to seek forgiveness and being genuinely remorseful for his actions, it’s still a long time before he can start to rebuild relationships and them be healthy. Often the abused person will have to go through the stages of grief, intense counseling, and a lengthy period of processing before they’re ready to look at forgiveness - and often they slip stumble and regress, because recovery is never linear.

This is only just skimming the surface, but NO MATTER if Fuyu.mi and R.ei have (canonly) forgiven their abuser, it doesn’t mean they have to be around him. It doesn’t mean he has to be in their lives at all. Factually, it means they may heal better without him. And if someone wishes to write this into their blog, they can WITHOUT being ‘unable to accept canon’ as you put it.

This aside, it’s difficult to heal when around your abuser. When your trigger is still living in the house with you, it makes it difficult to move past what they did to you, no matter if they’re sorry or not.

And factually? If they’re genuinely sorry, then they’ll understand that someone needs space to breathe.

If someone who is writing En.ji is genuinely someone who feels En.ji as an abuser is sorry, and wishes to see his family heal from literally kicking the shit out of them among other things? Then they should understand that

A) this means the todor.oki’s may need space from their abuser, for an indefinite amount of time.

B) his actions may be seen as unforgivable and that’s understandable.

C) abuse survivors who are on their own journey to recovery may need distance from things, such as En.ji, who remind them of their abuser, and this is especially true for those of us projecting on our muse.

I respect all RPers and their choice of muse, but when you write a toxic character, it’s your responsibility not to force that upon other people, and it’s your responsibility to write your muse in a way that doesn’t romanticize or take their actions lightly. It is your responsibility to understand that the actions your muse has engaged in are trauma inducing.

And if you can’t respect people’s decision to avoid a muse that triggers them and craft their own experience, if you can’t respect people’s decision to characterize their muse how they so please, then for fuck’s sake, get out of the RPC.

This is coming from someone who writes an abuser. This is coming from someone who writes a toxic relationship in another fandom. This is coming from someone who got out of an abusive situation, only to have to exist alongside him for several years after the fact.

I respect En.ji rpers, so long as they respect how people choose to characterize their character's forgiveness of a man who brought nothing but pain and suffering for their entire lives.

Of course this doesn’t touch on my opinions on if En.ji is ‘redeemable’ or not, but that wasn’t the topic, forgiveness was, so I won’t get into that.

#long post //#drama //#negative //#tw: abuse mention #abuse //#( 𝙊𝙪𝙩 𝙊𝙛 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙮 ⁞ OOC )#tbd ;;#<-- possibly i may leave it

13 notes · View notes

kisuminight · 6 years

Text

Corona curled upon his lap, winglets twitching as she dreamed. It was an exceedingly vulnerable position, trusting that Maiinomaia wouldn’t hurt her. There were so many ways that could be accomplished, beyond the most obvious vital points. A simple application of his claws to the base of the winglets would allow both a crippling blow to keep her pliant with shock and pain, and direct access to the spine, from which he could—

Maiinomaia pushed the Forsythe-borne thoughts of death and destruction from his head; they were unneeded and uselss. After all, the young chosen belonged to him as much as his Second. There was no reason to put out a fire just because he held little regard for the one who started it. Carefully, Maiinomaia flexed stiff fingers across those soft winglets.

Corona shifted lightly, relaxing deeper into Maiinomaia’s hold, nearly purring. Hmpf, such unfaltering trust. And yet, why should she not? It was a poor Lord indeed who needed to harm his subjects for their devotion. “Nepyrodhan, the situation.”

His ever-loyal Second stepped forward, kneeling at the base of his throne. “Taken care of. The paladin was particularly helpful.” Unspoken went the fact that this still didn’t make up for her initial failings, which had led to the kidnapping in the first place. “For your consideration.”

The trophy his Second presented was scorched from the heat of the blade used to flense the flesh from bone. They’d then been reassembled and bound in proper layout with gleaming gold wire and Maiinomaia grinned, pleased. Arrogantly, the Lord inclined his head, and Nepyrodhan placed the skeletal remains in their silken box in his hands. Maiinomaia gazed upon the tribute in admiration; the one who had dared to touch what wasn’t theirs would never touch anything again.

“Acceptable,” he deemed, “but be sure to remobe it before the Chosen wakes.” Better to avoid the fussing. Obviously Maiinomaia would never let a challenge stand uncontested, but Orono had crippled his most powerful weapon with far too much goodwill. Even knowing exactly what would happen didn’t mean it hurt Corona any less to witness such things. If Forsythe’s control had been stronger, it would have been so easy to break her.

But broken toys didn’t suit Lord Maiinomaia, and it suited him even less to have other people break them.

“Shall I remove them now, then?” Before the ensorcelled sleep faded away alongside the healing lash marks which striped across muscled shoulders. Soon the damage would be gone completely; already the pain and nerve damage had disappeared, by Corona’s pleased reaction to the stimuli.

“Return quickly,” Maiinomaia graciously allowed, “or you will miss the fun.” Lethal claws flexed, and his pretty Chosen melted deeper into his hold. After all, there was no reason for those-who-were-his not to belong together.

“Mm, thank you.” Nepyrhodan’s clever fingers felt good on Corona’s winglets. “Are you alright?”

“You have used far stronger abilities many other times, when we were not in the heart of Our Lord’s power,” Nepyrhodan commented absently, still preening Corona’s wings. Most of his attention focused on Maiinomaia as he prowled the edges of the throne room, fixing the holes Corona’s light had left in the boundaries of the Underdark.

There were a great many responses to that, but half of them were offensive to the Forsythenne and the other half obviously conciliatory, and Corona didn’t want to make someone she wasn’t even sure wished to be her friend angry.

Of corsse, that didn’t address the minor jealousy she always picked up, nor did any of them cover how to explain the sheer unneccessity of the emotion. For one, she had a huge collection of family and friends to divide her love amidst (not that she loved any less! Just, concentrating all that on one person wasn’t something she could do).

For another, Forsythenne energy was poisonous to literally all her systems, and if Auntie Starsong had to drag her back from severe anaphylactic shock again, Corona would be sent to live on the moon for the next century.

“Shall I do your wings as well?” Corona offered. The equipment was here; last time Corona had gotten dragged off by her counterparts, she’d brought along the proper polishing clothes and oil. Admittedly, it looked more like something you’d find in Citadel’s sword kit than one for wings, but the two Forsythenne always seemed more relaxed after a little pampering. Besides, there were several marks she’d left behind, speckled against the metal silk of their wings that needed to be buffed out.

“My Lord first,” Nepyrodhan bargained, and stood to fetch the box from the glass doored cabinet set against the side wall of the throne room. Corona recognized nearly all the items inside—the kit, but also one of her shed feathers from the fight with Forsythe, the cracked face of a Brass Dancer, glass from an Abyssal’s death, and the brace of throwing knives that Cia had used to pin the Forsythenne to the wall for a bout of familial threatening.

There was another box in there, one Corona didn’t recognize. It was made of a dark wood—about as long as Corona’s forearm, twice as wide, and fairly shallow. Reflecting back, there hadn’t been anything worth noting that Maiinomaia had gotten involved in. Well, there’d been the thing with the briarrose mice, but that would hardly be something to commemorate. The sheer embarrassment still survived even Nepyrhodan’s attempt to help him sweep the entire incident under the rug with extreme prejudice and excessive firepower. Neither wanted a trophy. Except….

Well, it seemed Corona hadn’t managed enough misdirection after all. Her winglets ached, despite the care being given, and a slight shiver built beneath her skin in a rolling wave, a memory of hours of lightning dancing across every nerve as she fought to keep it away from her heart. I shouldn’t be glad that somebody’s probably dead. Except they’d be dead anyway, if Elsu, Abayomi, or Tirian justice caught up with them. What was the difference?

The difference was justice and vengeance, and how it might impact two souls adrift, as they tried to understand how the world worked when not swamped with the rising tide of fury as Forsythe used them in an attempt to drown everything in his shadows.

Then again, Actaeon wouldn’t care either way, and he was the most similar to Maiinomaia. Mind, he’d had a very long time to learn and understand how to be comfortable in his own skin, and rule his emotions no matter where his actions took him.

Broad, sharp claws brushed against her cheek and Corona leant into the touch, eyes sliding shut. “You think too much,” Maiinomaia rumbled, wings extending to cocoon her.

“I can’t fix your wings like this,” Corona scolded, but leaned into Maiinomaia’s chest. The warmth suffused her body. Most people never thought or realized just how nice it was, to hold and be held by someone else. “What about Nepyrhodan?”

“I am here,” Huh. Corona had almost expected a lecture on being too weak, or too fragile. Not that it would have been anything other than unfailingly polite, but she wasn’t in the right headspace for another argument. Mm, now it was even warmer. The only thing that could make this better would be a nice patch of sunlight.

Now those claws gently combed through her hair, catching against small tangles and teasing them out; wind-touch, except caring. “You will not leave.”

Everything fuzzed in and out, like a drowsy day in midsummer. Corona barely heard him, but “Mom is expecting me back.” She’s nice, nicer than I am. You promised not to upset her.

“A blade belongs as much to the one who forged it as the wielder,” Nepyrodhan noted softly. No broken promises there, then. So what did Maiinomaia mean?

“I’m not a blade.” I’m not a weapon.

“A hearthfire, then,” Maiinomaia interjected. “I will no see you put out.”

Sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet, as far as the Forsythenne were concerned. “I’m okay. The dissonance between our auras encourages my healing.” We were designed to confront each other.

“And against normal people? Who hate you for your mortal heritage?” Nepyrodhan struck, logical words meant to flense away any and all objections. “Or those who survived the war through their brutality, who would kill you just to prove their strength?”

Dammit, that… “You know I hate fighting.” Corona had survived the war, if mostly on the edges. She’d seen the battlefields, and spoken to the pale-faced ghosts that had come off them—both living and dead. “Besides, I know who to stay away from.” Icedown didn’t appear problematic on paper, and he wasn’t on any watch lists. But her ghosts told a different tale, though not one acceptable for the courts.

“Does that include the person who tortured you?” Maiinomaia hissed. His claws dug in, but released with only the slightest pinpricks of pain.

“I suffer more damage in our quarterly fights than I did in half a day in that person’s care,” Corona shot back. “I’m in more danger letting our auras mingle than I am in a simple knife fight!”

“And in a knife fight, your blessing doesn’t speed your healing. The same blows you take have a much different impact on your health,” Nepyrodhan tried, cruel to be kind. Still, Maiinomaia spun out in a much different form of attack.

“You are my nemesis. No one else should be able to touch you!”

So that was the root of the problem. Not that Corona hadn’t expected to run into this sooner or later. What Maiinomaia conquered was his, his lieutenant and counterpart were his, and what was his was also his. And even if both Forsythenne had the mentality of adults, their emotional maturity still stood quite young in comparison to their outward appearance.

Hugs were nice, and Corona liked Maiinomaia and Nepyrodhan. When they figured out if they wanted anything else, then there’d be a talk as they all negotiated around limits. For now, “I understand. And I have tried to avoid those kinds of situations. But I can’t always, and you can’t always protect me. Would you appreciate it if I demanded that you never put yourself in danger?”

One impossible promise for another. Maiinomaia felt like a glower; sharp and tense, a gathering storm of power as frustration built—and collapsed, as Nepyrodhan deliberately pressed a hand between her winglets.

“Vengeance is still mine,” the Lord conceded, his mind turning away from the potential fight. “If you let the world break you, I will break it back.”

“Please don’t start another war in the process,” Corona joked weakly, absent-mindedly resettling her winglets into a more relaxed position—she’d responded with a threat display, oops. “I kind of like how the world had become more smoking crater free. It’d be a pity to undo the terraforming work.”

“I turned the perpetrator over to the Elsuii Justice System only a little worse for wear.” Which meant maimed as far as anyone else judged the matter. Corona thought back to the box; it—no, nevermind.

“I’m too tired to get upset right now,” Corona decided. “Just don’t rub it in my face, and I won’t lose my grip and start radiating holy energy.” Still, that either of them trusted the Elsuii government enough to rely on in, “Thank you. For allowing mortal justice to rule mortal matters.”

“It is not a mortal matter when the attacked is Orono’s own demigoddess Chosen,” Nepyrodhan corrected dryly. But his hands moved up to rub at the joints where her winglets met her back, so he couldn’t be too displeased.

“Of course.” Even though the initial hatred had arisen from rage against the Elsuii who helped raze Abayomi to the ground, for all that Starsong herself had seen each of them executed in turn. Forcing them to yield to Elsuii justice… a better revenge than Maiinomaia likely acknowledged, though Corona wouldn’t put it past Nepyrodhan to have engineered that way on purpose. “Now hand over that kit.”

“No,” Nepyrodhan replied succinctly. “You’ve been awake for too long. Go back to sleep, and let the healing finish.”

Maiinomaia delved into scowling again based on the way his blood roared beneath metal skin, a volcano about to erupt. Corona judged his displeasure as a result of reminding him or her apparent fragility. “If you break yourself through your own stupidity, I’ll break the world anyway for teaching you horrible habits.”

“…Stop trying to figure out ways to refocus all my attention; destroying everything is what Forsythe wants you to do.” And where are you going? Gotcha! Corona reached up to tangle her hand with Nepyrodhan’s in an iron grip. Sometimes, she was sure he didn’t like her, that he only put up with her for his devotion to Maiinomaia. “Stay?”

Well, clearly he didn’t hate her; Nepyrodhan leaned back into the cuddle pile with the slightest sigh. Mm, so warm.

Despite the briar prickles of pain as their auras carded past each other, like curling up to sleep alongside a stickerwolf, Corona relaxed. Outside this temple, only one place felt safe like this: the aerie. But even the aerie wasn’t impregnable. The temple was; nothing could attack her here (well, no unless Maiinomaia wished it, and when he did wish it, the spars tore apart the furnishings, smashed the stone floors, and collapsed columns. But she never felt unsafe).

In a tangle of wings and claws, Corona slipped into purring, and then sleep.

#my writing #project: updating the medium #mentions of:#torture #discrimination #dark gods #mental manipulation #mostly past-tense stuff #flip side of the reincarnation bit #Maiinomaia might actually figure out being a good person provided Corona survives #but that's hard when you weren't raised that way #Nepyrodhan has no time for nonsense getting in the way of his efficiency

1 note · View note

ingloriousfanfics-blog · 7 years

Text

All Smiles - Ch 5

SHIP: link x sidon / sidlink WORD COUNT: 3,074 RATING: T for teen for language FANDOM: the legend of zelda: breath of the wild ONE-SHOT/MULTICHAPTERED: this is CHAPTER FIVE, you can read chapter four here!

SUMMARY: inspired by my own playthrough/painful journey up to zora’s domain, in which link finds prince sidon to be incredibly obnoxious… at first! journeying to the zora’s domain in order to battle with the divine beast vah ruta, link’s injuries from the monsters speckling the path there result in him spending more time getting to know sidon than fighting ruta, and finds himself more invested than he ever imagined.

enjoy my work? help support me by buying me a ko-fi so i can keep on writing!

Night was beginning to fall upon the Zora’s Domain when they crested the hill and laid eyes upon it for the first time in what felt like weeks. Sore, bruised, and tired, the remainder of their exhausting journey had been spent in tense silence, the entirety of which Link had felt Sidon’s eyes burning into his back. He did not need to look back to see the concern, hurt, and confusion that would be written upon his face, for he had already, accidentally, caught a glimpse of that stare. It was understandable, of course---for him to go from amiable to having his lips tightly sealed, there seemed to be no reason. No reason beyond his own, muddied emotions, twisted and knotted together with his confused thoughts.

But the sight of the Domain was one of absolute relief, feeling his heavy chest lighten as for the first time in hours, he looked back to Sidon, a worn smile creasing his lips, and spoke.

“We made it.” Sidon’s smile, toothy and broad, was nearly enough to uplift his spirits further, but remembrance of the prince’s near-sacrifice was enough to turn him serious again, gaze solemn as he located the path. His mission may very well end in his own death, and he need not drag Sidon into it due to attachment. In the end, he was destined to save the princess, and his own personal desires and relationships needed to be set aside until he finished his primary task. Doing his best not to think much of the grim reality of his fate, he motioned for Sidon to follow as he carefully struck out a path down the hill. The grass was slick, the mud sticking to his boots as he attempted to find the driest spots to carve out a path. ”Link, I was thinking---” Link did a bit of a shuffle to avoid a puddle, trying his best not to instinctively look to Sidon as he spoke, focusing on the path ahead. ”Uh-huh.” ”You’ve been quiet this whole way---” ”Yeah.” ”---and I wanted to make sure---”

”Yes?”

“--that you’re oka---” Making the mistake of lifting his head to acknowledge Sidon’s concerns, mouth partly open in an explanation, all that came out was a startled yelp as his foot slipped up on the grass. Eyes wide, hands fumbling through thin air for a grip, his outstretched fingers found a firm hand, his gaze briefly catching sight of Sidon trying to grapple onto him before he hit the ground. Rather, before they both hit the ground.

Momentum and gravity dragging them both down, the slick hill served as a slide as they went speeding down, Link’s kicking feet doing nothing to slow them. Frantic eyes looking from Sidon, to the end of their ride that was the bottom of the hill, he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to Hylia for a graceful landing. And a graceful landing was anything but what he got, voice mustering something of a half-choked squeak as they hit the ground, and bounced, ricocheting off to land in a heap of limbs.

Head spinning, the world slowing its fervent dance as he recovered from that tumble, it was only after a few dazed seconds of trying to ground himself that he realized he hadn’t landed on soft, plush ground, but rather a soft, plush shark.

Scrambling quickly at the sacrifice of his screaming, aching muscles, he swung up onto his feet and offered an immediate hand for Sidon to take, concerned eyes raking over him. Of course he had to land perfectly onto the one who was not only the prince of all Zora, but also likely the most injured of all Zora. To aggravate his wounds further by slamming into him as he did was not on the top of his list.

“Are you okay?” Gaze nervously expectant, watching as Sidon seemed to recover himself, he gave a slow shake of his head, and then blinked up at him. ”… Well that was fun,” he remarked, sharp teeth put on display with a dazzling smile as he accepted Link’s hand, stumbling onto his feet. ”I’m fine---great, actually! We made it!” His excitement contagious, Link could not help but smile back---up until realizing he still clasped his hand in his own for far too many seconds extra, quick to pull back. He was not ignorant to the brief flash of confusion (and was that hurt?) on Sidon’s face before he promptly recovered, looking to the grandeur bridge that would take them to the heart of the city.

“Let’s go,” Sidon said, his voice turned serious as he looked to Link. With a nod, he dusted himself off, and walked in step with the Zora, steeling himself for what was to come.

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

The guards had swarmed them when they had arrived, frantic and excited and nervous all at once. Being as injured as they both were, soaked and in need of proper medical treatment, neither were granted the opportunity to see the king, swept off to separate areas. The last glimpse he had of Sidon was him promising to see him once they were both released from treatment. That had been two days ago now, Link foggily recalling his wounds being treated and bandaged before he fell asleep. Exhaustion had won the battle against his mind, and emerging from the room set up for him, he felt a quiet yearning to go back. Dry, comfortable, warm---it all left as the first fat raindrops hit his shirt, and he fought with himself not to go hide back in bed. But was it so wrong to wish for a day of reprieve from being soaked to the bone, freezing and yearning for quiet?

Pushing aside his dismal thoughts and stepping out further into the cold and rain, with a quick nod to the guard standing watch at his door, he made his way for the throne room.

It seemed that he was not the only one with the king in mind, stepping into the covered, expansive room to find Sidon and the decrepit old adviser of Dorephan’s. ”He is too injured,” Sidon insisted, looking between Muzu and his father, clearly blissfully unaware of Link’s quiet entrance. ”The Domain can endure a bit more rainfall, but he cannot--” ”It isn’t the Domain that will suffer, but the reservoir!”

Link’s eyes shot to Muzu, who’s scowl was almost as deep as the lake itself, glaring down the crown prince. ”We don’t know when it might give, and when it DOES, it wont only be the Domain in danger! If the Hylian wishes to prove himself, then now is the time.” For the first time since meeting him, Link saw true anger enter Sidon’s typically peaceful gaze, expression darkening as he turned upon him. ”Prove himself? He volunteered for this, and it is us who should be proving how GRATEFUL we are for it!” Muzu’s lip curled, serrated teeth caught in a sneer as he replied, “This is nothing more than him paying back for taking away our sweet Mipha. If it weren’t for that blasted Divine Beast, I’d rather see him drowned for his crime.” A chill overtook Link at the hatred seeping from those words, and it seemed it was not only him who suffered from the pure malice coming from Muzu. Looking as if he had physically struck him with his words, Sidon gaped before it all seemed to crash back in like waves hitting the shore, a snarl contorting features Link never knew could harden so.

Sidon’s hand rose, sharp claws glinting as his arm began to swing, “How dare you---!”

“ENOUGH!” The booming roar of King Dorephan was enough to shake the very infrastructure of the throne room, all within it wincing and cowing down at the power of such a voice. ”I am sick of these petty arguments,” growled Dorephan from his throne, his eyes turning from his son and adviser, to that of Link, still caught halfway in the doorway. ”If anyone shall be making a decision, it shall be Link himself. What say you, Champion?” Link did his best to not look at Sidon nor Muzu, focusing only on King Dorephan and his patient stare. What choice would he make? He was indeed still exhausted, wounds still healing. But Muzu was also right in that he felt this mission was a sort of redemption for what had happened to Mipha, even if she had taken on her mission on her own accord. Either way, the decision would be hard, and the path beyond it only harder.

“I’ll do it.” He saw Sidon’s crestfallen, concerned look out of the corner of his eye, and likewise did he catch Muzu’s derisive snort, the Zora turning his back upon him. ”Then so it shall be.” Dorephan nodded, motioning to Muzu to draw his attention. ”Repair his armor. You will set off at daybreak, for the chill of night will be too much for your body. Even with Mipha’s armor protecting you, you remain too exposed to the elements to take such a risk. Do you have any of the shock arrows left from the Lynel?” Muzu, grumbling beneath his breath, turned sharply to vanish out of the throne room, likely to Link’s quarters to retrieve the armor. Only watching him for an instant, Link turned back to give King Dorephan a solemn nod of confirmation. ”I have enough. They are with my quiver in my quarters.” ”Ready them, and ready the rest of your weapons. One of the guards shall assist in arming you with what you may need.” ”And I will come with you!” Thumping a fist against his chest, Sidon’s expression, once shocked by Link’s decision, turned grim and serious. ”Armor or no, you will not be able to swim quickly enough to avoid Vah Ruta’s attacks. I will be your fins, and guide you to her.” Thinking to protest, not wanting to put Sidon in any further harm, the beginnings of such was interrupted by King Dorephan hum, looking up to the king once more. ”So be it. You will honor your people and Mipha’s memory by helping the Champion enter Vah Ruta. You both have my blessings.” Stomach twisting into knots, thoughts filling with the potential sacrifice Sidon may be making, much as his sister before, Link was quick to dip into a half-bow, turning sharp and exiting the chamber to pursue Sidon back into the heart of the Domain.

“Are you insane?!” As small as he may be, he remained strong, reaching out and seizing Sidon’s forearm with a sharp yank, face distraught. ”Are you?” Sidon, not fighting against his hold, looked down upon him, his serious expression making him look so much older and grim. ”You are still injured, you have only just returned from our near-death experience with the Lynel, and yet you are already promising to face Vah Ruta. I can’t let you go alone. I’m not letting you die.” Link’s emotions were hard to pick apart, anger and uncertainty and fear combining into one ugly beast. This wasn’t supposed how it was meant to go. He was the one meant to be the sacrifice, the disposable hero sent off to do what no one else was willing to. To save the lives of many, he would sacrifice his own, but he couldn’t do that if he could not even keep Sidon safe from himself. ”You can’t go--” Link started, watching as Sidon wrenched himself out of his grip, his eyes narrowing and teeth beginning to flash. ”Why can’t you just let me help you, Link?!”

Link froze, mouth agape, Sidon’s yell leaving him stunned. His words did not come quickly enough, stumbling and stuttering through as Sidon grimaced, hiding his face with a hand as he turned away.

“I will meet you at dawn,” he muttered, walking away as Link began to stretch out a hand, frantic. ”Wait, Sidon, wait---!” A water dweller Sidon may be, but his legs were plenty long enough to swiftly take him away, disappearing off to the other end of the Domain with Link taking only one, stumbling step after, heart sinking deep into his stomach. Was it wrong of him to try and deny Sidon what he wanted if he had meant it with good intentions? Was it wrong to try and protect him, even if Sidon was trying to do the same? Staring long at the spot where Sidon had once stood, wondering what he could have done differently, if there was anything he could have done differently, Link sighed slow, shaking his head. ”Dawn… it is.” ---------------------------------

Link was drowning.

It was an almost blissful sensation, compared to that of the other near-death scenarios he had been caught up in. There were no monsters snapping at his heels, no person there with him to suffer a kindred fate. It was only him and the dark reach of the water, bubbles drifting past as he sunk lower and lower. Nearly did he shut his eyes, ready to embrace the calm and fall deep into it, until he felt the water churn, as if some great fish had slapped its tail near him. Eyes snapping open wide, becoming all too aware of the painful burn of his lungs and how slow he moved, he looked up to see a shadow blocking out the dim light from above. Closer it swam until his visibility of it cleared, mouth parting to try to choke out a horrified no as water rushed in to smother him. Sidon’s hand reached for him, the Zora’s face taut with fear, trying to grapple onto one of his arms that drifted down through the water. Don’t, he tried, choking on another lungful, sputtering as with every gasp he was met with more water. Something felt wrong, his mind screaming that something terrible would happen if Sidon reached him, that he couldn’t let him touch him. In the water he was far too slow to move away, Sidon naturally swifter, reaching for him as Link tried to give another bubbling protest as his hand clamped around his forearm. Sidon looked to him, and their eyes locked, and for a moment, as he gazed into Sidon’s happy gaze, he thought everything would be alright. When the harpoon split through Sidon’s chest, the sharp tip brushing against him, he swore he could hear the scream that ripped out of him and sent bubbles surging to the surface. The light left Sidon’s eyes, and the rope on the end of the harpoon yanked, Link feeling as though his limbs were stone as he tried to reach, tried to grab him. His hand fumbled, brushing Sidon’s fingertips, his mouth caught in a scream, this couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t let him die, don’t---

“Gah!” Breathing hard, sweat dripping down his brow, Link shook himself from the remnants of his nightmare, his heart pounding. Skin clammy and sweat-slicked, for a moment did he fear that the sweat was in fact water from being dragged out, though a quick look around reassured him that it was morning. It was morning, and it had all just been a dream.

Just a dream.

Counting each breath, fingers massaging his thighs as he tried to calm himself down, nearly did he not notice the guard shifting to the door, peering in.

“Prince Sidon awaits you at the mouth of the Domain, Champion.” Pausing, feeling somewhat embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable moment, with a quick nod, Link flipped back his blanket and moved to dress. ”Thank you,” he managed after clearing his throat, locking eyes to confirm he had heard them, and was met with the privacy he wanted, the door shut. ”It will be fine,” he muttered, pulling on his boots and fumbling for his shirt, pulling it on and reaching for the Zora Armor to lay on top. ”It will be… Fine.”

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

The morning was cold, damp, and dark. Even when knowing the sun had risen, every once in awhile during his trek to meet up with Sidon, Link glanced again at the sky to ensure it wasn’t actually night. The rainclouds had only grown darker, thunder rumbling, and once, when he took another glance up, he watched lightning crack across the sky. Impulse commanded him to double-check that he had no weapons that would draw the lightning close, and for a half-second, he wondered if the shock arrows would lure over the lightning. If he could command the lightning with these arrows, would he be able to conquer Vah Ruta more easily?

Unwittingly did he cross the threshold to the reservoir, looking around at his new surroundings and casting a lingering stare back. Easily could he turn around and vanish, leaving the call to action unanswered and go back to his horse and run. He was more than capable of hiding from the Calamity, and with his memories gone, what ties did he have that made him morally obligated to help Zelda? His choices laid out before him, Link gazed upon the path to freedom, the path that would take him away from what may very kill him, and turned his back on it, marching into the heart of the East Reservoir Lake.

#sidlink #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #prince sidon #link #erika's writing 2017 #next chapter we face off against... VAH RUTA!

8 notes · View notes

itsomgitsgreenblogging · 7 years

Text

Break My Heart: Chapter 3 (A Solangelo Fanfic)

I graduated, hurray! And because of that this chapter is late, forgive me! But things are being set in motion at this point of the end of Day 1 in the infirmary, officially. I hope you all enjoy what’s in store (and as always my advice is, reread that dream if you don’t quite remember it, all details are important)! Also, yes, I am very invested in bi!Will Solace, and as such, that does play some importance. Just a head’s up. And yes, remember, this is a slight canon divergent AU, so, things go a little differently in this fic then in canon. But just slightly.

Enjoy!

Previous Chapters on Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Read it all on AO3

Preview:

“Hi Will, how are you doing, it’s nice to see you too. Oh, thank you Clarisse for asking I really appreciate it,” Will said as he leaned against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Don’t be a bitch, Solace,” Clarisse told him with a roll of her eyes.

“And deny myself all this fun? How could I?” Will reminded her before sighing. “Yes, Clarisse, Ellis isn’t dying, and I haven’t killed him though he has tempted me constantly. Can I get you anything else with that order? Fries and a shake?”

“Is Ellis not dying?” Clarisse La Rue asked after she marched into the infirmary. She stood there, tapping her foot to the beat of her annoyance, which Will guessed was cranked up to a solid slow-burning fury (though it didn’t take much to get Clarisse to smoldering rage, maybe a paper cut, an ill-timed swing during a WWE event, or the weather being warm during training would also suffice as a fuse to ignite her temper).

“Hi Will, how are you doing, it’s nice to see you too. Oh, thank you Clarisse for asking I really appreciate it,” Will said as he leaned against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Don’t be a bitch, Solace,” Clarisse told him with a roll of her eyes.

“Haha funny, well if Ellis isn’t dying can he come back with me? I need Sherman to quit whining and get along with our Roman cousins, which, newsflash, is difficult when Sherman is whining.”

“Sherman’s whining?”

“In the way Sherman whines, which is breaking punching bags with his fists at five in the morning. I know this may fuck with your mind, but Ellis actually chills Sherman out. Right now I need optimal chill, like subzero. Me and Zhang are having issues containing our collective natural affinities to kick the shit out of each other, and contrary to popular belief though I appreciate the idea, I am not having a fight club being organized in my gods damned cabin.”

“Okay, you can come with me to go check Ellis. If and only if he is ready to leave will he be discharged, but tell Sherman to come visit Ellis is going stir-crazy too,” Will told Clarisse as he attempted to lead her back with him, but Clarisse being Clarisse marched on her own terms and Will just ended up following behind and hoping she didn’t see anyone she didn’t like.

“Oh thank the gods you’ve come to spring me,” Ellis groaned from his bed as soon as he saw Clarisse. “I thought I was going to murder Markowitz if I had to look at his face for another second.”

“That’s what they all say,” Cecil said with a dramatic groan from over in the corner, giving Will a smile. Ellis made a disgusted face.

“Yeah not so much if Solace doesn’t okay you, though I only wish you were so excited to see me when I try to get your ass out of bed in the morning for practice you lazy son of a cyclops,” Clarisse said, sounding pissed but Will knew there wasn’t any heat in it. They exchanged insults and complaints, which, in Ares-progeny talk was pleasantries, as Will inspected Ellis’ wounds and felt about his ribs for tenderness.

“Di Immortales Solace don’t push so hard!” Ellis hissed at him and Will raised a brow.

“Ellis, I know that’s you sweet talkin’ me, and I am tryin’ very hard to be gentle with you, but I would appreciate if you were quiet and let me do my work,” Will warned him firmly with a drawl for good measure, meeting his gaze. “I can do a little simultaneous healing and get you out of here now, or, I can refuse and move you into the bed next to Cecil. Your choice.”

“Okay, okay, shit,” Ellis groaned, allowing Will to pull up his shirt and press his hands against his sides. Where Ellis’ ribs had been fractured from a spear’s handle had mostly healed up, just leaving them bruised. Will hummed the melody of a hymn, feeling his power seep into the hurt and calm it, soothe it. Ellis released an unwilling hiss of relief as Will lessened the ache (Ellis had been too proud to accept the pain meds, dumb brave kid). Will pulled away and motioned to Clarisse, who handed him his flask of nectar which he took a swig from. Ellis sat up and moved, testing his range of motion, and Will found it to be satisfactory.

“Alright, he’s ready to go, just don’t get into any arguments,” Will told them and Ellis nearly jumped out of bed. Clarisse clamped a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Clarisse said.

“Of course, anytime,” Will said honestly. “Shall I walk you—“

“Praetor!” Phoebe’s voice came like a squeak towards the front of the infirmary. Will, Clarisse, and Ellis hustled to the front, to find Phoebe and her healers standing stock still as the Roman Praetor Reyna stood tall and accompanied by Hazel Levesque who was carrying a rather stuffed duffle bag. Reyna’s brows flew up at the sight of them.

“Good afternoon, I did not know it was Grecian infirmary policy to allow patients to wander about without shoes,” Reyna noted, giving Ellis the once over. Ellis, bless his heart, did not flinch but instead puffed up like an insulted rooster.

“And I did not know it was policy for Romans to walk into a hospital fully armed,” Will reminded them sternly, pointing at the weapons cubby. “If you are here for visiting you will utilize the proper procedures as well as turn down the intimidating factor, it would be much appreciated kay thanks.”

“Forgiveness, you must be…?” Reyna offered.

“Will Solace, I’m the head counsellor for Cabin Seven, and head healer at Camp Half Blood,” Will introduced, holding out his hand. Reyna grasped it in greeting, her grip strong and sure. “Clarisse, please, make sure Ellis doesn’t get into any fist fights on the way back to your cabin. I’ll see you later.”

Leaving Will to his own devices with the Romans seemed to be the last thing that Clarisse wanted to do. Say what you would about Clarisse, and Will had certainly said it before, but the girl was loyal to those she thought deserved loyalty. They had worked out a few rough patches over their years as counsellors together on that alone. Clarisse also knew when to let other people fight their own battles, so Clarisse clapped him on the back hard (which may have translated to either, consider Apollo and Ares allies in the next Capture the Flag or don’t die before I have to kill you loser, Will couldn’t really tell) before exiting the infirmary with a glaring Ellis still half-unclothed in tow.

“I’ve come to see how our soldiers are recovering in order to create a—“

“We’ve come to see Nico,” Hazel clarified with a sheepish grin. Reyna cleared her throat, cheeks slightly reddened as if she had been caught sneaking cookies out of a cookie jar.

“Yes, that too. We heard that Nico had checked in, thankfully. We’d been both telling him to get checked out since the battle,” Reyna said, offering Hazel a chiding look that was given mostly in amusement. The other girl made a show of straightening up for dramatic effect.

“I’ll take you back to see him then,” Will said, motioning for them to drop off their weapons (which they both did with varying levels of comfort). As he walked them back, Cecil gave him a look and a smoothing motion that read something akin too: holy shit bro watch what you say or else you might get a foot of Imperial Gold shoved up your ass by two badass ladies who I’d like to be friends with if you catch my drift. Will responded by flipping the bird.

“Interesting bedside manner,” Reyna observed.

“It comes with the job,” Will told her as he stopped flipping Cecil the bird, trying not to be intimated. “Also that’s my best friend so…”

“Do you normally do that with your best friends,” Hazel asked, looking charmingly embarrassed.

“You do when your best friend’s a piece of trash,” Will said neutrally with a shrug. “But he’s my piece of trash. I must remind him of that sometimes.”

They made their way back to the mostly empty section of the infirmary where Nico was currently presiding. Nico was still mostly in the position that Will had left him in, though with the added addition of the IV and the blanket. Hazel immediately rushed to his side, and worried over him.

“What’s wrong—“

“I’m being held against my will,” Nico said with a sigh. There was something gentle in his expression, something akin to a smile on his mouth. Hazel took a breath of relief before smiling back at him.

“What’s the diagnosis?” Reyna asked Will, hanging back, all business.

“Infection, exhaustion, and general power malfunction. But the IV fluids and rest should help with most of it,” Will told her encouragingly. “How are you feeling, Nico?”

“Cold,” Nico said shortly, with a shiver for emphasis. He was looking heartbreakingly small, thin, tired, and pale against his sheets. Will made a mental note to get him another blanket. If anything, Nico di Angelo looked stretched thin, as if another inch would press him out of existence or a breeze might sweep him away.

“The fluids will do that, let me take a look,” Will said as he held out his hand. Nico, stuck his free hand out to let Will clasp it again. Improvement, small improvement, but improvement nonetheless Will noted. Of course it was only a few hours, but it was enough to let an optimistic smile show through, mostly for Hazel’s sake who was looking seriously worried about her brother. “Better. Incrementally better but that means we’re on the right track.”

“Great,” Nico said with heavy sarcasm, as he looked away quickly and he nearly threw down Will’s hand. Hazel gave her brother a strange look.

Weird, Will thought. This guy is supposed to like me? How? I don’t even know what I did but I think he hates my guts.

“What Nico means to say is thank you,” Reyna seemingly reminded/warned him, Nico only responded by slumping further into the bed like an angry child. It was oddly endearing, which was very concerning.

Will needed to watch himself, maybe get a crush on another equally emotionally unavailable person who he hadn’t had a prophetic dream about so he could at least trick himself that they wouldn’t break his heart. Like on someone like Reyna for example, she was certainly gorgeous, also could kick his ass, and was also very unattainable. Will could totally have a crush on her and get his heart broken because she would probably never even consider him because as some of the Venus campers who had stopped to gossip in the infirmary had reported, Reyna had been making bedroom eyes at both Jason and Percy Jackson for a while now. And as everyone who had seen him in sword-practice would tell her, Will Solace was no Jason Grace or Percy Jackson, so that translated to having no chance. Will understood what unrequited longing and undeserved heartbreak was like, and if Will hadn’t been so attached to the idea of his head being attached to his body, Will would’ve given her a pat on the back in a sign of comradery.

“We came to let you know that most of the legion are out of the infirmary. Phoebe let us know that in the next day or so the rest of them will be released and we’ll be heading back to Camp Jupiter—“

“And also to visit you,” Hazel reminded Reyna again with a laugh.

“Yes, we also wanted to see how you were. Are you going to be coming back with us?” Reyna asked curiously, her head tipped to the side and causing her dark braid to fall off her shoulder.

“As much as I would like to say yes…I don’t really foresee a lot of black togas in my future,” Nico noted with a sigh. “Even though they were a striking fashion statement.”

“It was also nice to see you out of your ratty clothes and looking professional,” Hazel teased and her brother gave her a well-worn look of exasperation.

“Excuse you, I’ll always take comfortable over fashionable.”

“And godliness over cleanliness?” Hazel said with a roll of her golden eyes.

“Okay, listen, it wasn’t my choice to show up in that shirt it was all I could find—Solace, stop cackling!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Will said as he tried to clear his throat. He hadn’t even realized he had been laughing until Nico had pointed it out. Reyna gave Will a curious look, before returning her attention to Nico. Which confused Will again. Had his laughter been so weird?

“Don’t worry, I brought a present,” Hazel said as she showed her bag that she had brought into the infirmary. Hazel pulled out a few shirts, varying shades of black and grey as a demonstration from the bulging bag. “I asked some people to donate. Only white and grey scale colors, maybe one navy, but I know your aesthetic.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Nico said, his gaze was almost unreadable but there was something vulnerable in his eyes—which were oddly colorless. “Hazel, you really shouldn’t have—“

“Oh hush,” Hazel told him as she reached out to brush his hair from his forehead. “Nonsense. It was nothing.”

“We thought it would be only appropriate considering the circumstances,” Reyna said as she took the seat on the other side of him.

They continued to chat with Nico and Will kept to the background, minding his own business as he changed out bedsheets. He checked on the quickly emptying infirmary and all the recovering inhabitants (including Cecil, who he warned off from any unfortunate romantic misadventures). Phoebe was still half-panicking in the front, and Will gave her a look and a job to complete to keep her mind off the fact that two of the highest ranked and regarded warriors of their generation were in the same building as her.

“I don’t understand why you are freaking out,” Will asked Phoebe who took a deep breath after they finished cutting portions of ambrosia.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s like the CEO of a fortune 500 company coming to a side branch,” Wren, one of Phoebe’s half-sisters scoffed.

“Listen, she’s like our age. She seems pretty normal to me. Like, it’s great you respect her, but there isn’t a point in getting one’s panties twisted up about it,” Will pointed out to her. “You don’t see me getting bent over backwards over seeing Annabeth Chase or something.”

“Easy for you to say. You are basically the equivalent of a Centurion here,” Phoebe pointed out. “You are allotted a certain amount of respect automatically, you are on the same playing field as the great heroes.”

“Centurion?” Will asked curiously.

“We have our Cohorts. Each Cohort is run by a Centurion, so, you are basically the Centurion of your cabin,” Phoebe explained before sighing. “Not that you wouldn’t be considered in the running at Camp Jupiter for a legitimate Centurion position if you came to New Rome with us.”

“Wait, what does that mean—“

“Will Solace?” Reyna’s voice called as she and Hazel appeared. Phoebe and Wren stood up rod straight until Reyna dismissed them with a tired wave. Will stood up a bit more slowly. “I’ve heard from some of the other Legionnaires that you performed emergency healings and saved many of them, even without hymns or assistance.”

“Yes, though I prefer not to. It’s tiring,” Will said with a shrug. Reyna blinked, seemingly filing away that knowledge for later.

“Well, I just wanted to officially extend an invitation to New Rome, and know that our resources are yours. Phoebe has written glowing reviews in her report, and seeing the infirmary itself shows me that you are a great leader,” Reyna explained before giving a softer smile. “And I can already tell that Nico has improved. So, as a friend, I must thank you. Keep Nico as long as necessary, and if necessary please call me. I can always talk some sense into him.”

“I think I can handle myself, it’s all in a day’s work. If you ever find yourself or anyone you know injured on the East Coast, just holler,” Will said as he reached over to give her a handshake. As soon as Reyna had finished, Hazel Levesque nearly bounced over to hug him. Will couldn’t help his smile as he accepted it.

“Thank you so much, and don’t let Nico bully you!” Hazel said firmly, as if she believed her brother had every intention of being troublesome.

“I’ll survive. But if you could do me a favor? Make sure Frank knows that Clarisse is having a hard time reigning in her cabinmates, and there has apparently been talk of a fight club,” Will told her.

“What’s a fight club?” Hazel asked, her eyebrows furrowed worriedly.

“Not on my watch will there be. I’ll take care of it,” Reyna said as she cleared her throat. “Thank you again.”

And so Reyna and Hazel both left the infirmary, leaving a much relieved cohort of Roman healers behind them. Will, as always, organized the dinner in the infirmary to be assured that all demigods had their nutritional needs met, and making sure to swipe two platters before going down the hall once more. Nico was laying back dozing again, understandably exhausted.

“Dinner’s served,” Will told him, and Nico opened one eye and looked at Will with all the enthusiasm that he probably would have mustered if Will had just told him that he had hired a mariachi band and a clown for Nico’s super sweet sixteen.

“I’m not really hungry,” Nico told him with a sigh, and to be fair, the kid looked pretty drained. Will settled the plate on the bedside table.

“Good news is, I just got you a sandwich and some potato salad. It won’t go cold or anything, so eat it at your own pace,” Will promised him and Nico seemed relatively relieved that Will wouldn’t be force feeding him, as if he had been in that situation before, which made his heart break a little bit. “Would you mind if I checked you out?”

“Alright,” Nico said, offering his hand which Will took. Will couldn’t help but notice that Nico’s entire arm twitched as if he had just been shocked with static.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?” Will asked him worriedly, attempting to reign in the desire to try to rub some heat into Nico’s frigid fingers. Will had a feeling that Nico might bite him involuntarily if he tried something like that.

“You are hot,” Nico muttered, before immediately gaping like a fish, eyes wide with panic as the flashed around the room looking for an exit. “I mean—I mean—“

“I do like to think I run hot. Son of the Sun God and all,” Will could help but joke with a laugh.

“Don’t let your head get full of hot air. You might burst,” Nico grumbled, embarrassed but looking relieved. Will was still grinning as he let his power wash through him once more. The shadows were still lurking there, but nothing too concerning. His body was already fighting off the infection that had taken hold of his cuts, and the resting was helping out. But there was a lingering heaviness that still had to be addressed, something that Will knew was more mental then physical, though as Will had often discovered the two bled into each other.

“Progress already,” Will reported, very pleased. “Now we have to keep it going that way.”

“I hope so, I’ll die of boredom if I’m stuck here longer then necessary,” Nico groaned.

“If you would like, I could send a message to some of your friends so they can come visit you. Hazel and Reyna aren’t the only ones who would like to see you I’m sure,” Will pointed out to him, and Nico’s expression was suddenly guarded and tight.

“They know where I am,” Nico said with an odd amount of frustration. “Why should I tell them to come visit? If they want to see me they’ll come.”

“Hey Nico, let me let you in on something,” Will said as he sat down beside his bed, while still trying to give Nico space. “And I don’t want you to take this as me being condescending or something because it’s not. But people don’t know what you are thinking or feeling unless you say something, that goes for everyone. Sometimes you have to say something to be seen the way you actually are. If you leave people to guess, then you can be misconstrued.”

“That’s stupid,” Nico argued but the defense seemed weak, and Nico frowned. Will couldn’t help but give him a small nod.

“Yeah, it is. Also, you won’t be seen as weak or something because you want your friends to visit. Gods know I’ve had a very similar conversation with Kayla before,” Will explained with a fond chuckle. “And I was the same too. I cried when Michael didn’t visit me when I got a concussion. I found out after that because he accidentally gave me a concussion on the lava wall, and he thought I wouldn’t want to see him and I was mad at him. When Lee came in and saw me blubbering, Lee dragged Michael in to the infirmary with a vengeance. It was all a misunderstanding, you know? But communication was key in resolving it.”

Will couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the story, remembering how much a mess all three of them had been. That was the thing with Apollo kids, they were all dramatic in their own ways and they couldn’t help making a scene sometimes. It had all been rather silly, but the fond memory made his cheeks hurt from his smile. Nico watched him with something like fascination, as if trying to physically absorb his advice so he could use it another day.

“Your brothers, right?” Nico asked with a strange look in his eyes, as if he was focusing on something at a far distance through Will. The intensity of the gaze made Will feel like heat was crawling up his neck and he was forced to look away. Not good. Not good. Holy Hera that expression was cool in an awesome comic book superhero kind of way, like Nico was some gunslinger off to seek retribution for ill-deeds. “Both were heroes, and judged to be honorable enough to find a place in the Elysian Fields.”

“Yeah…I know,” Will said as he shook free his errant feelings, a bittersweet feeling welling up in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Well…I…” Nico said awkwardly, the strange authority slipping away to reveal the boy his age underneath who seemed anxious to turn the topic away. “Could you pull out some of the clothes in the bag? I want to see what Hazel gave me.”

“Sure, of course,” Will said as he fumbled for the bag, reaching in and feeling a smooth, cool texture.

Will pulled out a leather jacket. A leather jacket he recognized, as suddenly for a moment he was taken back to that dock, to that lake, to that moment of rejection. His breath caught in his lungs at the intensity of the déjà vu.

“Oh cool,” Nico said as he snatched the jacket from Will’s numb fingers and admired the black leather with more interest then Will had seen from him this whole time. “I needed a new jacket since mine got all ripped up.”

Oh gods this isn’t good this is happening this is a thing that’s happening, was Will’s first thought. The second being: I’m screwed.

#Solangelo #Solangelo fanfiction #Will Solace #Nico di Angelo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #Hazel Levesque #clarisse la rue

56 notes · View notes

annemayfair · 7 years

Text

Innocent Conscience Fears Nothing

@picchar HAPPY BIRTH-DAY FRIEND

Word count: 3,653

“Drink this up,” the healer commanded, putting a cup to Oran’s lips. “This will hurt, but we have to take the arrows out.”

Oran nodded silently, grabbing the armrests of the chair. The healer tipped the cup, and the healing potion started to flow down his throat. He felt invigorated, but only for a moment – the second healer, who sat on a low stool next to Oran, put one hand on his shoulder, and with the other started pushing the first arrow through his side.

The pain was immense, and Oran gritted his teeth to attempt to silence the scream. His torso shook as the tip of the arrow cut through his flesh, and he prayed that perhaps the arrows that were barely stuck underneath his skin in his back could be pulled out backwards, not forwards.

When the arrowhead pierced his skin just below his navel, Oran felt blood come up to his mouth. A towel wiped away the liquid that started coming out from his tightly pressed lips, and the potion once again was shoved down his throat. A healing spell also grazed his skin, fixing the torn guts and the messed stomach.

“One out, ser,” the healer said, pulling the potion away from Oran’s lips. “Eight more remaining.”

“Fucking amazing,” Oran grunted, moving forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feeling the remaining metal inside him pierce more of his muscles and tissues. He groaned and hit his knee with his fist, trying to tame the pain.

The tent where he was being tended to was hot with many braziers burning away incense that masked a maddening mixture of smells – of his sweat and blood and bowels, the scent of magic potions and anti-poisons he was being treated with. The battle ended a full day ago, but the healers only managed to treat minor wounds of sword slashes, moving onto the arrows in his sides and back. The gash that split his stomach open was still there, with less blood coming out, but still bleeding. The healers kept him alive although Oran wasn’t sure he wished to live much longer in this much pain.

Of various kinds.

The guards that stood outside Oran’s tent saluted loudly, and Rahlen entered with a concerned look on his face. The healers quickly shoved another cup of health potion into Oran’s mouth, and this one tasted sickeningly of ice. As his insides froze, the healers bowed to the Prince, and scurried away. Rahlen watched them leave with his head tilted, then turned to his cousin.

“You don’t look well, Oran,” he said calmly, putting his hands behind his back. “I hope your treatment shall end soon with success.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Oran replied, wiping his mouth with a towel.

Rahlen’s shoulders shivered. The only times the Guerrins called him by titles was when they were sulking. Or hurt. Oran seemed to be going through both of those sensations, but that was to be expected. The man nearly died on the battlefield.

“The battle had been a huge victory for Ferelden,” Rahlen continued, making one step closer to Oran. “Your valiant fighting is what secured the defeat of Jelynn’s soldiers. It would have been impossible if you hadn’t dealt with the blood mages she summoned, and it pains me deeply that the intelligence provided missed such an important addition to her forces.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Oran nodded without lifting his eyes at the Prince. “I may only hope that such mistakes aren’t made in the future.”

This wasn’t good. Both men knew it. The hot air inside the tent was as thick as butter, and Rahlen’s head swirled with words he wanted to speak, with emotions he wanted to express. But how could he do it? Oran looked at him as if he looked at a stranger, almost no recognition of Rahlen’s persona in his eyes. His face was stone cold, professional, polite. Oran wasn’t sulking. He truly was hurting.

“Oran,” Rahlen started after clearing his throat. “I believe I owe you an explanation of the events that have transpired several days ago. I must-”

“Your Majesty,” Oran interrupted him, raising his hand in the air. “I believe that nothing of your personal agenda is a topic that shall be discussed with me. There is no explanation to be had, as I doubt whatever it is you are speaking of concerns me directly.”

Lost, Rahlen opened and closed his mouth, staring down at sitting Oran. The man seemed to be as serious as ever. He watched Oran take a drink from his cup and his face contorted in disgust.

“Oran,” the prince repeated. “If I only could have imagined…”

“But you didn’t,” Oran interrupted him again. “Of course you fucking didn’t.”

His voice was bitter and dry. Rahlen took one more step towards his cousin.

“With all fairness,” he wondered if he tried to convince his cousin or himself, “when I had arrived at the pub, I offered to leave. It was you who insisted I stayed, and you did not insist you go with us to the ruins.”

“I would have insisted if I fucking knew you’d whip out your dick the moment you two are alone!” Oran yelled, jumping onto his feet from his chair.

The arrows that still were stuck inside him swayed around, propelled by Oran’s movement. The open gap inside his stomach splattered blood and lining onto the floor, but the Guerrin did not feel that. He did not see Rahlen’s shocked expression as he saw his cousin’s insides escape his body, one bit at a time. Anger and wrath that boiled inside Oran made the pain go away like no potion ever did.

Rahlen took that silently before attempting to defend himself again:

“Oran, calm down,” he tried to touch his cousin’s shoulder, but his hand was smacked away hard. Rahlen furrowed his brows. “You are being sensitive.”

“Am I?” Oran asked with his teeth bared so much Rahlen could see his gums. “Then how do you explain yourself at all? Just because I was being polite and did not shove a cousin whom I hadn’t seen in years, you think what you did was what, normal? It was okay? What fucking shit sits in your rotten head that you think you’re in the right here?”

Bits of blood and spit landed on Rahlen’s outfit, pale blue now staining with red. But now Rahlen was getting angry, too.

“If you really wanted her, you should have done something, cousin dear!” He raised his voice as well. “Nothing good comes to those who wait for gifts to simply fall into their lap from the sky! If you truly wanted Fenlin, and I mean it, you should have shoved me out from that pub, and never let me near her again!”

“I did what I thought I shall do!” Oran nearly yelled, but only growling escaped his chest. “I set up a date, I prepared a gift, I fucking had a music band, with harps and shit, hide in the basement for the right moment! And even if Fenlin did not catch what the fuck was up with me, how could you do this to me, cousin?”

Oran’s face shifted expression from anger and wrath to sadness and disappointment. His shoulders and chest moved in tact with his hastened breathing, his neck’s veins bulging from stress and pain. Guerrin’s face was as red as Theirin’s was pale. Rahlen bit his lip, trying to come up with an appropriate argument.

“Out of all people in the world,” Oran continued, his chest falling deeper and deeper. “Out of all people in this world, I did not expect this kind of… dishonesty, this kind of disrespect and betrayal from my own family, Rahlen. I never expected any of this shit from you.”

There was a wet sound of ripping, and with a meek gasp Oran sank back onto his chair. His pants and bandages around his previously closed wounds reddened as blood soaked them through. Rahlen wanted to help Oran, but once again he was refused:

“Don’t touch me.”

“You should have just said no.”

Rahlen stood his ground, his head clear as it has ever been. Oran’s helpless flailing, accompanied by profanity, came from frustration at his own mistakes, no doubt. And if they were to remain a family, if the Theirins and the Guerrins were to continue together as the force that kept Ferelden whole, the sooner Oran accepted his fault, the better.

“It was as simple as that,” shrugged Rahlen, filling up Oran’s empty cup he had dropped with more of the health potion. He held it out at full arm’s length and waited for his cousin to take it. “You need to learn how to say “no”, cousin dear, and your life will become a lot easier.”

Oran stared back at Rahlen with such a deep hatred in his eyes that Rahlen felt goosebumps on the back of his neck. This was the look he had seen in aunt Nathyara when she was forced to negotiate with Queen-Dowager Anora. This was the look of his mother when she spoke of Arl Rendon Howe. This was the look of his father when he spoke of Loghain Mac Tir.

And now his own cousin’s eyes returned the same emotion on him.

“How can I tell you “no”, cousin dear,” Oran took the cup, but his voice was pure poison, “when none of us are supposed to?”

That took Rahlen by surprise. His face smoothed out in disbelief as he returned the gaze to Oran:

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing at all, Your Majesty,” Guerrin’s face fell dead and emotionless as the healers came back to the tent, carrying more potions and clean bandages. Rahlen turned around as they started laying out their tools and preparing for another round of trying to keep Oran alive. One of the healers, a man with braided auburn hair, gasped in horror when he saw Oran’s reopened wounds and the lining on the floor that had fallen from his stomach.

Rahlen nodded with the slightest bow of his torso, for the healers to pick up that their conversation was finished. He exited the tent, feeling Oran’s eyes glued to the back of his head. The camp outside buzzed with life as soldiers counted the prisoners and fixed their weapon and armor. March towards Dartmoor Hold was yet to commence, but the forces were halted by Oran’s injuries. Rahlen wondered if taking command would undermine whatever respect his cousin has for him.

Fenlin approached Rahlen from the side, Potato snoozing in her hands. She looked worried, and sad, and a thousand more things. As they stepped to the side, watching the men carry their duties, she asked Rahlen:

“Is he okay?”

Fenlin, good, kind Fenlin. Rahlen wrapped his hand around her waist and drew her in for a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the aroma of her hair.

“He will be,” he assured her. “Oran just needs time.”

Three weeks later, Rahlen and Oran met again, but this time in even worse environment. They entered the Landsmeet room, with dozens of questioning and judging eyes upon them. The King and Queen sat on their thrones on a podium at the end of the hall, and Gilbert with Duncan and Eleanor leading the table. All three stared at Rahlen and Oran in unified inquiry.

“By the grace of our Maker, and His bride, the ever-graceful prophet Andraste, I greet thee,” Oran bowed in a formal introduction.

“By the blessing of our Maker, the Light in the shadow, I greet thee,” Rahlen continued.

They both noted changes in each other’s appearance. If Rahlen seemed relaxed still, maybe even happy, the air around Oran started to remind painfully of Gilbert. Perhaps it was his hunched posture as he still waited for the last wounds to heal, or perhaps his moody face was to blame. But the Landsmeet wouldn’t wait.

“Bann Oran Guerrin,” a bann with swirly braids around her head asked from the gallery, “how shall you explain what had happened at Dartmoor?”

Oran bowed to the gallery before answering:

“A victory had been claimed in the honor of the crown,” he gestured towards Alistair and Rythlen, who listened carefully. “Bann Jelynn, half of whose bannorn had been tainted after the Blight, sought to annex the neighboring Voytern bannorn, which, as all of you known, has been lord-less since the passing of childless bann Wilhelm.”

Rahlen waited for Oran to finish his speech and couldn’t ignore how his own siblings inspected him. They were displeased with him. Gilbert, on the other hand, kept his face neutral and almost friendly, like he always did. And it disturbed Rahlen more than any stares his siblings could give him.

“The Bann had hired four thousand mercenaries and two thousand legionnaires from Tevinter Legion,” Oran continued. “After the battle had ensued, our forces managed to take over Dartmoor supporters despite the two-thousand men advantage.”

“Bann Oran, is it true that you set a dragon upon Bann Jelynn’s men?” A man with grey beard asked.

Rahlen wanted to take the blame for Fenlin’s decision, which he hadn’t protested, but Oran replied quicker:

“No contest, my lord.”

Rahlen stared at Oran in disbelief as a wave of whispers came from the gallery and the table in front of them. Oran’s face was set in stone, not a single muscle moving, and it made the usually happy and open Oran seem like a dead man.

“Bann Oran,” Duncan lifted his hand. “Bann Oran, what is your justification for an action so vile?”

“Your Majesty,” Oran bowed before answering, “nothing so upholds the laws as the punishment of persons whose rank is as great as their crime. After Bann Jelynn sent assassins after two of my captains, I felt it were a measure equal in retaliation.”

“Equal in retaliation?” Gilbert furrowed his brows. “Oran, it was a dragon.”

“The dragon served merely as a distraction tactic, and a fear factor for our enemies,” Oran defended the issue. “The dragon could not be ever persuaded to take action in actual battle, so it never did. After frying up a bunch of pigeons, it took off and away, but our enemies have been stricken with fear of her return. Their panic allowed us to make them forget of their numerical advantage.”

Rahlen swallowed hard as Oran smoothly weaved the lies about why their arrival on the back of the dragon was a positive thing. He was sure that Oran wouldn’t mention stable page boys who got trampled to death, and a few others who got injured in panic that set in the Royal camp as a freaking dragon flew over it.

“If I may…” Rahlen started, but immediately his voice drowned in another.

“Yes, but setting a dragon against our own people, despite them being temporary enemies, is a lot,” King Alistair spoke up and all heads turned to him.

“With all respect, Your Majesty, to mislead a rival is permissible in times of unrest,” Oran bowed even deeper, his expression never changing. “One must use all means necessary to win.”

“That’s a tactic that leads men to dark paths,” Queen Rythlen took initiative. “It always had in the past, and it will do so in the future. If you had been able to, would you abstain from summoning a dragon?”

Oran waited for a brief moment.

“No contest, Your Majesty.”

The Landsmeet hall blew up in angered yells and a low rumble became a loud noise. In shock, Rahlen looked at the Oran, hoping his cousin would look back at him, but he remained unmoving. With his jaws clenched tightly, Oran was preparing to face whatever the nobles would throw at him.

“Bann Oran, your behavior was unacceptable…”

“No contest.”

“Bann Oran, I reject your assessments of tactics and the enemy forces…”

“No contest.”

“Bann Oran, don’t you think that your actions have harmed…”

“No contest.”

Oran took blow by blow, and every attempt of Rahlen to raise his voice ended up with nothing. He angrily motioned for Duncan or Eleanor take stand so he could speak, but they seemed to ignore him as well. As the displeased nobles quieted down, both the king and the queen demanded for Gilbert to explain his brother’s actions:

“Arl Gilbert,” King Alistair started. “I know that you must feel strongly about the events of the Dartmoor incident, but it seems that your brother is adamant on not releasing any additional information that would allow us to judge the measure of his punishment.”

“Arl Gilbert,” Queen Rythlen continued, spreading the folds of her dress. “It also must be noted that you employ the policy of secrecy being the first essential in affairs of state, but at this time there could be no secrets as to my son’s involvement with the death of Bann Jelynn’s family.”

“And the Dalish Ambassador,” King Alistair added. “I believe it was her dragon.”

Oran pleaded Gilbert with his eyes to not stand up, to do nothing, but he could not tell his brother what to do. Gilbert stood up, leaning heavily on his cane, and turned and bowed to the entire Landsmeet.

“My lords and my ladies,” he started, his voice bouncing off the walls. “Your Majesty, the King. Your Majesty, the Queen. I am but a simple not-treasurer of this kingdom, as I always have been, but events at the Dartmoor have revealed many troubles within our own spy network, and within the Royal family.”

Oran tightly shut his eyes, whispering “Motherfucker” under his breath. Only Rahlen heard it, and only Rahlen heard the addition: “Sorry, mother”.

“The underdeveloped and ignored spy network of Ferelden had failed to anticipate or intercept the foul libels and pasquinades that damaged the good reputation of the Dalish Ambassador, one Fenlin Lavellan.”

The crowd listened intently, and Rahlen’s heart sank. Gilbert brought Fenlin into this.

“The Ambassador was,” Gilbert clearly and obviously looked at Rahlen, “persuaded that the use of her dragon against the enemy’s forces would bring her into good graces of Denerim and Ferelden’s people. Which is what caused the regrettable end of Bann Jelynn, her husband Tabard, and their three children.”

Oran swallowed hard.

“No more, brother,” he said loudly.

“And it was none other than Prince Rahlen Theirin who displayed the lack of self-control and discipline as he time and again failed to advise the Ambassador otherwise,” Gilbert pressed on, his eyes fixed on Rahlen’s face. “He displayed disobedience as he entered the command on his own, secured a position for himself in the ambush battalion, and when the battle turned foul, nearly had my brother killed as the prince himself rushed to save the Ambassador, who should never had been on the battlefield in the first place.”

“Gilbert!” Rahlen lost his temper. “You’re the one who told us take the dragon! You insisted we do it to catch Oran before the battle started!”

“I did not push you to do anything,” Gilbert banged his cane against the floor to silence the roar of the crowd. “I merely stated that you would catch my brother before the battle if you took the dragon. And I also stated, multiple times, that there was no hurry in telling him…”

“Gilbert!” Yelled Oran.

It was a menacing, guttural yell that threatened that the very next moment, Oran would come at Gilbert with fists swinging and pummeling. Everyone begrudgingly stared at Oran, including the royal couple.

“…whatever it is what you wanted to tell him,” Gilbert finished. “That is my perspective, Your Majesty.”

He turned to face the King and the Queen, whose faced displayed disappointment and worry. They exchanged looks as Gilbert continued:

“My brother, who nearly died on the battlefield, is taking all of the responsibility on himself so that Prince Rahlen’s reputation within the army or the bannorn is not stained. That is why he is prompting to provoke the harshest punishment for himself, and will thoroughly insist the Prince did nothing wrong.”

The King and the Queen seemed devastated. Rahlen’s heart couldn’t handle it much longer, so he spoke up again.

“It is true,” he said. “All of it. It is my fault, and I am ready to accept consequences of my actions and decisions.”

Silence fell onto the Landsmeet hall.

“Arl Gilbert,” Rythlen spoke to him directly, her face pained by what she had just heard. “What punishment would you issue for Rahlen and Oran?”

Gilbert swayed in his spot, shifting the weight from the cane onto his back.

“No contest, Your Majesty.”

In thirty minutes time, Oran had been dishonorably discharged from the army positions and prohibited from participating in any military endeavors. Rahlen, despite how much he protested, despite his claims he could prove nothing of what happened shall be blamed on Oran, was ignored. His parents didn’t give him another look until the Landsmeet was over.

As the nobles poured out from the hall, Rahlen found Oran and Fenlin conversing quietly to the side. She seemed agitated, nervous, and her face was painted with utmost despair. Oran still had his dead face on. Rahlen bumped into few of the nobles on his way, and saw Oran bow low to Fenlin, dismissing her attempt to hug him, and walk away. She turned to him, eyes on the verge of tears, and Rahlen hurried towards her, not bothering to apologize to those he elbowed on the way.

“What did he say?” He inquired, catching Fenlin into his hands. “Maker, Fenlin, what did he say to you?”

“That he’s not angry,” she said back to him. “That he’ll visit when he can. Rahlen, have we broken him?”

She lifted her head to stare at him, her voice almost crying.

“Have I broken him?”

“No,” Rahlen hugged her tightly. “No, you didn’t. Nobody did.”

But that wasn’t true. And that didn’t matter.

#picchar #Rahlen Theirin #Fenlin Lavellan #Oran Guerrin #Oran Mac Eanraig

8 notes · View notes