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rubyleeray · 3 years

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MARS RED Review

Hey All!

It’s been a while (way too long!) but I’m back! And I’m here with something extremely exciting!

A couple months ago, the good folks at Favary very kindly reached out and offered me the chance to be part of a beta test for their new game - MARS RED: Edge of the Nightmare based off of the Stageplay turned Anime of the same name written by Bun-O Fujisawa.

Regretfully at the time, I was completely unfamiliar with this story/universe but that didn’t matter for long because as soon as I saw vampires - I was immediately on board. Not to mention the stellar cast featuring so many of my favourites!:

The Story

I want to start by saying that I’m not 100% certain as I have not seen any of the original source material yet, but I believe this is a new original story that continues/expands upon the existing MARS RED universe.

You play as Yastufusa Yuki, a newly-turned reluctant vampire that is spiralling into an existential crisis. One day he encounters Organization Zero (a group of good vampires that hunt bad vampires) and discovers he holds a unique and rare ability to mentally recreate and perform crime scenes. With their help, Yatsufusa sets out to realize both his life and afterlife’s purpose while simultaneously helping fight crime.

Even if you are someone who has had enough of/doesn’t particularly like Vampire content (can’t relate!) - you will still enjoy MARS RED. Yatsufusa’s journey into self discovery in the afterlife is a more human story than you may think. If you have ever felt lost, lonely, confused, depressed, and/or unsure of yourself you will be able to relate to Yatsufusa in some way. And if that still isn’t enough to convince you, there are so many hilarious and touching moments, you will never be bored.

And the scene with the baby sparrow just completely melted my heart:

Gameplay

MARS RED is already unique to me in the sense that it is the only non-romance game I have on my phone but it’s also a Mystery/Crime/Horror Visual Novel which is such a great combination! I am not sure if there are any Good Ends or how many there may be yet (the story is still in development) but I have come across a couple bad ends. These were easy to go back and get for me because they involved choosing the options that no one earnestly playing a heroic protagonist should pick 🤣. They were quick and funny and are very obviously the wrong choice so if you haven’t hit one yet, you’re on the right path! If you want to get a bad end, go to the end of Chapter 1 and refuse to help.

Now, I don’t know if it’s a pandemic thing or just a me-getting-older thing😬, but I have almost no patience for games with checkpoints that I have to grind/spend like crazy for. All I really want to do these days is interact with a good story. MARS RED is the game I’ve been searching for for so long! Everything centres around and furthers the story which is super refreshing because for some reason that’s becoming increasingly rare in this genre (and industry in general🫖). Not only is it a solid, mysterious, supernatural crime story, it’s also super fun to play! I absolutely love when a game has mechanics that actually exist to serve and support the story and experience as opposed to just shamelessly providing the player with another reason to spend.

Here’s another confession: I hate most gachas. There, I said it. Why? Because for the most part, I only want/like stories. I don’t want avatar clothes or duplicates of N items that I have to go in and manually delete constantly. I just want to have more content of my faves without spending my entire pay cheque. Is that so much to ask!? MARS RED thinks not! I saw there were two current gachas even in beta: one limited and one not. I was excited because I love everything about the game already but I was also skeptical because I have a long history of being burned to a crisp by all gacha games. I was expecting to see an offering of the typical beautiful and virtually unattainable rainbow rare prizes like cards that are essentially useless (but damn are they pretty!). However I am thrilled to report that MARS RED has blessed me with my dream gacha. STORIES GALOR-IES!

The rainbow rare item was a story with a cg and I managed to pull it on my second 10-pull and OMG I loved it. It was so wholesome and pure and a great length that made it feel as premium as it gets!

Aside from the story, there are three other major mechanics: Investigating, Inferring, and Exploring.

Investigating is so much fun. It reminds me of my childhood days reading iSpy books and playing Spot the Difference games. To investigate, you simply tap on items in the scene to read about them.

Each item offers their own unique clues and context and you better remember what you see because you better believe someone will ask you about it later and that’s called “Infer.”

During the Infer portion, you are given a limited amount of time to make assumptions and come to conclusions based on what you found during the Investigation portion. If you are like me and love playing Investigator - you will love this!

During the Explore portion, you don’t actually have to do much other than pair up 2 people and choose a location. They will Explore on their own and level up/earn you the money and points you’ll need to progress later on in the process. You can also earn rewards called “Murmurs” which are little short anecdotes between the guys.

Cons

My only “con”/criticism is that I wish there were more cgs. I hardly came across any and there were so many fantastic moments that would have completely blown me away with an accompanying CG. But for the record - the CGs I did see were gorgeous!

Random Thoughts

I feel like this would make an excellent BL game - where are my fellow YatShu, YatSuwa, and/or YatDe, shippers?! XD

I love Yatsufusa. He is my son and I want nothing but the best for him and his vampire/human friends. If anything happens to him...I WILL become a vampire myself and avenge him. I already want NEED a little plush doll of him.

This game is generous without spoiling the player and it’s user-friendly without making me feel like a child. I really appreciate that especially since I feel that most recently released games cram a million mechanics in without ever connecting them to the story. (Have I talked enough about how bothered I am by a lot of recently released games 🤣?)

HAS TUMBLR ALWAYS HAD A 10 PIC LIMIT?!

Closing Thoughts

If you’re looking for a game/story that you can actually enjoy without stressing over - give MARS RED a go! The world needs joy now more than ever and Yatsufusa’s smile is pure serotonin! Go get yourself a boost and download this game available now on both Google Play and App Store!

Thank you for spending some time with me! I hope you are doing well and keeping safe & happy. I’m off to go play more of this game (Chapter 7 just released!) while finally checking out the anime! Stay safe and healthy and I’ll see you soon!

***Disclaimer: I was provided early access to this app for the purpose of reviewing it by Favary. I have not been nor will I be compensated for my review, but I received a small in-game sum of points to complete the story in the beta. This does not mean my opinions or words were bought and paid for. These are my honest thoughts and feelings and Favary entered into this agreement with me requesting and expecting nothing but.***

#mars red #favary #vampires #review

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

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Bar Antics

For @siegfaerie as a part of a fandom trade and posted with their consent. Love you platonically, friend. :)

Canonically takes place during the FGO NA 2021 Chaldea Boys Collection event.

Also, note. Cậu is a Kinship pronoun for “Friend” in Vietnamese. Take that however you'd like when reading. :)

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“You shouldn’t be holding that cocktail mixer so tightly, my dear.”

“E-Easy for you to say, Moriarty-san,” Vy mumbled, but she still let her fingers relax their grip on the bottle in question, feeling a shaky breath leave her lips as she turned her head to look up at the older Archer. “I’m bad with alcohol.”

“Such a waste, my dear, such a waste,” Moriarty said, the lilt in his voice taking out whatever venom there might’ve been as he gently patted her shoulder on the way to the sink behind the bar. “But why are you so bad with it? I’ve seen you serve other drinks with the young Itzy to the guests and handle yourself just fine.”

In spite of knowing it was an innocent question, uncomfortable needles pricked at the back of Vy’s neck as she did her best to not reach up and play with her ponytail out of habit. “I-Inherited allergy,” she eventually coughed up, heat starting to warm her cheeks in that embarrassing way she didn’t like thanks to the admission. “Daddy could only drink maybe half a glass before turning red and needing to go to bed, and the first and last time I ever drank anything was with my family before coming to Chaldea.”

“Ah,” Moriarty said with a curt nod, his hand reaching over to turn on the faucet at the sink. “You were just as red-faced as him that time?”

“Nearly cursing like a sailor, crying the entire time, and I almost threatened to pummel one of my cousins into the ground for having me drink a single can of the stuff, actually,” Vy mumbled, ducking her head to look down at the mixer in her hands. “It wasn’t fun.” She found herself pausing from the sudden lack of saliva in her throat, eventually coughing out in a weaker voice, “D-Don’t judge me, please.”

“I wasn’t going to, dear, do not worry,” Moriarty said humbly, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips from what Vy could see past the massive pile of dishes he started to wash. “If I did, I believe I may find myself poisoned in the near future.”

Um. What? “What do you mean by that…?”

“Exactly as I said, my dear,” Moriarty said in the same tone of voice, a wink sent her way once Vy was giving him a confused look. “Exactly as I said.”

Oooookay. Vy shook at the bottle in her hands, doing her best not to squeak once a hand eventually landed on top of her head.

Wait. There were callouses, and the scent of mint—

“…Big Robin?” Vy whispered.

“Hey there. Is the drink ready yet, little sparrow?” Robin asked almost too casually as his hand patted her hair softly. “You’ve been standing here for a little while.”

Vy felt herself flush up to the tips of her ears, choosing to hand Robin the cocktail mixer while ducking her head. How embarrassing! “U-Um. Could you check? I-I can’t exactly, um, taste-test it…”

Robin let out a soft chuckle in response to Vy’s fumbling, gently taking the metal bottle from her hands. “You got it, little sparrow. Just take it easy, okay?” Before Vy could respond, he leaned over to bump their foreheads together. “Don’t break anything.”

“I-I’m not going to break anything—” Vy protested, yet still feeling her voice die in her throat once she was looking up into Robin’s visible green eye. The corners of said eye crinkled softly in Vy’s direction as Robin smiled. “Muuu,” left Vy’s mouth instead. “You’re a dork, Big Robin.”

“And you’re a cute little sparrow,” Robin teased back, bumping Vy’s head with his one more time before pulling back and walking elsewhere, shaking the mixer with one hand all the while. “Don’t worry so much~!”

“Muuu,” Vy felt herself voice again, this time in embarrassment, once Robin disappeared around the bar island’s corner.

Another hand proceeded to land on her person, this time winding around her shoulders to squeeze, and Vy blinked once a warm chest was resting against the back of her head. “Vy~!”

Oh. “H-Hi to you too, Itzy,” Vy said softly, swiveling her head a little just to find an eyeful of pink hair. “Did you already finish your order?”

“Yup~!” Itzy hummed, squeezing Vy’s shoulders in a hug from behind as a big smile graced her face. “And I think it’s time for your break, dearie!”

“…Is it?” Vy glanced at the clock. “I thought I still had 5… minutes…”

The minute hand ticked once for extra emphasis, and nearby, Vy could hear Moriarty make a scolding “tut-tut” noise past his dishes. “That, my young lady, is the sound of losing track of time.”

“Well, fiddlesticks,” Vy said finally in mock-curse while slumping against Itzy, much to her fellow Master’s apparent delight if the soft squeal above her head was any indication. “What about you, Itzy? Are you taking a break now too?”

“I was just about to~!” Itzy said happily, squeezing Vy’s shoulders while a cheek gently bumped the top of Vy’s hair. “I wanted to wait on you though, Vy!”

“Thankie…” Vy smiled up at her taller Master friend, closing her eyes in content. “Let’s go together, then?”

“Let’s!”

Siegfried, who came back to the bar island at that moment with a silver tray of empty wine glasses, gave Itzy and Vy a small passing glance. “Robin and I can handle the floor, Master,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching enough to make Vy wonder if he was giving Itzy a secretive smile. “Go take Vy for some well-deserved rest.”

Vy did her best not to laugh nervously at the discrete callout once Itzy saluted Siegfried with a cheerier, “Already on it!”

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

“No matter how many times I come in here, the break room still feels really fancy…”

“It’s still a break room in the end, Vy, there’s nothing to worry about. No bouncers, no creepy gangsters—”

“I-I can’t help it, okay?! Sieg looks like a Mafia Boss, Diarmuid, Yan Qing, AND Izou are in the gangster way of life here, even though I don’t think any of them would be into that kind of thing, wellmaybeIzou, and, and—“ Vy took in a deep breath, shaking her head enough to rustle her ponytail before she eventually flopped down on the nearest couch and rested her cheek against Itzy’s shoulder. “…Sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with venting.” Itzy raised one hand to gently pat Vy’s hair, scooting closer to let Vy rest her head in the small crook between Itzy’s neck and shoulder. “It is our break now, so you can be a bit more unprofessional here.”

A shakier puff of air resembling a sigh left Vy’s lips as she reached over to take Itzy’s hand for a quick squeeze. “…Same to you, y’know, Cậu Itzy,” Vy whispered, shrugging with one shoulder towards the center of the room. “There’s homemade lemonade on the table if you want some.”

Itzy twitched, and Vy was already expecting the incredulous “Vy…” said in her direction. Almost as if debating whether or not to scold her, Itzy’s hand proceeded to unravel Vy’s hair tie, undoing Vy’s ponytail in favor of stroking the freed hair. “You didn’t have to.”

“Wanted to.” With a pout, Vy added in mock protest, “Before you say anything, I made it this morning, put it away in the fridge before work started, and I checked to make sure Moriarty didn’t put anything weird in it.” For extra emphasis, Vy lifted her head from Itzy’s shoulder so that she could lean over and grab the beverage pitcher in question, pouring out a glass into a nearby cup so Itzy could take it. “I taste-tested it already if that helps.”

Itzy gave Vy a bit of a funny face over the cup’s rim, enough to make Vy fidget for a second or two. “You sure about that last part?”

“99.99% sure,” Vy assured with her best poker face. “Unless you want me to try chugging it?”

The statement was, whether Vy knew it or not, enough to make Itzy relax because her fellow Master was breaking out a grin and taking the cup from Vy’s hands, winking. “No need to chug then, Vy. Lemme see…”

It took a single swig.

Itzy blinked at the contents, Vy leaned in a little from anticipation. “Is it… is it good?”

“I was expecting it to be sweet,” Itzy said in half-wonder, half-amazement. “I wasn’t expecting sour too.”

“Is that a good thing?” Vy could feel another flush of heat start to flood her cheeks, enough to make her raise a hand to cover one of them up and away from Itzy’s line of view. “I-I heard from Siegfried that you liked citrus drinks, so I reworked my old lemonade recipe to what he recommended, and—”

“Wait.” Itzy was blinking again. “Wait, wait, wait. Vy, honey, you came up with this?”

“I said it was a rework of a recipe, but um, yes?” Vy said, caught off-guard. “I’ve had the recipe ever since I was little, and Mommy and Daddy always liked it, a-and you’ve been family to me, so—”

“Vy, honey,” Itzy interrupted with a happy wheeze caught between a grin and a laugh, “I love you too.”

Vy blushed, but still found herself smiling as she watched Itzy down the entire cup after that. Once the contents of the cup were gone, Itzy let out another happy sigh, leaning back against the couch while proceeding to wrap an arm around Vy’s shoulders, pulling her in for another side hug. “Thank you, Vy! It was delicious!”

“I-I’ll make it again for you when we get back to the Wandering Sea,” Vy said softly, smiling as she leaned into her friend’s side. “It’s really simple and doesn’t take up much energy.”

“As long as you don’t push yourself, honey, I’ll take whatever drink you make me!” Itzy hummed.

Vy closed her eyes and hummed back. “Aye,” was all she said back. It felt like it was enough.

Besides, I know I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.

#mastersona vy #itzy #friend things #passing days #short story #gift fic #writing-art trade #siegfaerie #siegfried #robin hood #moriarty #fate grand order #long post #writing #was working on this for two months #i hope you like it fae #others' mastersonas #archer of shinjuku

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

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There is a legend of an enchanting princess who lives inside a giant tower, far away from civilization and deep in the forested mountains. They say that the birds bring her food and water, and every dawn and dusk she looks out her window for any wandering travelers. Every knight that has gone in search of her never returned.

But she is not a damsel trapped inside her prison. She is the guardian of its treasure, and will show no mercy to whoever dares attempt to take it.

(This is very random lol. Have fun!)

“It’s said the princess has hair of gold. Weighs like a normal head of hair, but anything but. And she’s alone- in the forest, surrounded by mountains. Do you know how many carriages have wrecked in the mountains? How many of them have fallen off into the seas?”

Gargon shook his head and tipped it back with a tankard held against his lips. Just a drop of ale left. With a sigh, he smacked it back down on the table and waved at the barkeep. He said to his friend while he waited, “Just myths. What princess gets left alone in a tower for years? Before you answer, I’ll tell you myself; none.”

The barkeep returned with a pitcher of ale and poured it into Gargon’s tankard.

Jemis, Gargon’s buddy, shrugged. “You might not think so, but I fancy the idea. And anyway, I misspoke a bit. The girl isn’t entirely alone. The birds- sparrows, robins, and hawks alike- bring her food. Either way, she stays on the lookout for travellers to find her.”

“Yeah?” Gargon took a swig of his drink. “What about dairy? Do the birds give her milk, too?”

“I don’t know, Gargon, but don’t you find it all even the slightest bit intriguing? Don’t you want to know for yourself?”

Laughing heartily, Gargon knocked his friend’s shoulder with his own. “You have a crush on the legend lady, don’t you?”

Jemis flustered, shoulders bouncing with uncertainty of what to say. His ears were becoming red; he could feel them heating up. “Of course not. I don’t know her, but I’d at least like to know she exists.” He smiled a bit. “And there’s treasure. Did I mention that part?”

“I’ll tell you what. You buy me half of the drinks I had tonight, and we’ll go out to find this forest-mountain princess with gold hair and bird friends. Maybe I can ask her where her dairy comes from.”

“Maybe use a different wording for that question when we get there.”

“Assuming she’s real. Are you paying?”

Jemis dug a pouch out from his belt, peeked inside, shrugged, and tossed it on the counter. “Paid. All of it. Can we go?”

Gargon held a finger up before closing his eyes and sludged his tankard back again, chugging the contents. Jemis shook his head; he was never one for drinking like his best friend was.

Slamming the tankard on the bar, Gargon stood, reaching behind himself and clapping Jemis on the back. “You ready, Sir Lancelot?”

You’d have thought the non-drinking friend was drunk by the way he practically fell from his stool. He followed after Gargon: one, because that was his adventure buddy, and two, because he was afraid Gargon would fall without assistance.

It wasn’t a long journey, but it was a dangerous one. Gargon nearly got swept away in a strong stream because his drunk brain stole his balance and common sense.

Jemis near regretted even mentioning the legend princess. But as the trip continued, he began thinking of the little joys; one such being that his friend was thankfully wearing his armour. Otherwise, Jemis listened to the birds chirping, and he imagined they were gathering berries for the rumoured girl in a tower. Why he was so fascinated, he had no idea. Fantasies were fun, and wouldn’t it be amazing to find that one of them was real? And if it was so nearby, why not chase it? What was the harm?

“You see that?”

“Hm?” Jemis stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his friend. Gargon was pointing, and though looking at a finger didn’t tell him where exactly to look, as Jemis looked in the general direction, he saw it. Stone. In just the near distance, maybe a hundred yards away.

“Probably some ruin.”

“I’ll tell you what ruin is, and it’s you ruining the moment, you arse. It’s the princess’ tower. The legend is true.”

Gargon grumbled something along the lines of, “You mad, scrawny lad.” He acted like a fifty-year-old man, but in all reality, both men were barely above the age of twenty.

“Come on, we should keep going.”

“Or we could make a shelter. It’s getting dark, Jemis.”

Looking up at the darkening sky, Jemis almost agreed. But they were so close, so close to that stone tower, so close to meeting the princess with gold hair. “We’re almost there. Surely, she will let us stay in the tower. You know there are wolves and the like out at night. It’s better to be in an already occupied tower than to lay in a tiny shelter made of twigs and leaves.”

Even drunken, Gargon shook his head with a huff. “I’m starting to regret making a deal with you.”

“Oh, come on,” Jemis began walking again, watching the ground, and stepping over rocks and twigs, and all else that the forest floor liked to use to trip people. “It isn’t a far walk. We’ll be there before the moon is up.”

“I can see the moon, it’s behind our heads.”

Jemis looked back and bit his lip. “Torches, from the- from the tavern we just left.”

“Right. Well, we are losing your so-called ‘daylight’ and gaining more ‘torchlight’ so keep walking before it’s gone altogether.”

And so, they walked.

The tower was…not very impressive, believe it or not. It was a sad, short thing in comparison to the stories- though still tall enough to see over the tress- with moss growing over it and with holes here and there. Still, Jemis fully believed a princess was hidden away inside.

“Well?” Gargon prompted as his friend just stood there in front of him, staring up at an empty window. “Are we going in or standing out as wolf bait?”

“We go in, of course.”

“Right. Sorry I had to ask. It wasn’t as if we were just standing and gazing at it. What was I thinking?” He huffed. “You know, this whole adventure has managed to make me sober and I’m not happy about it.”

Jemis shushed his friend as he walked towards an old and rotting wooden door. It heaved open and Jemis- in all his glorious skin and bone, fell to the ground, earning a bumble of laughter from Gargon. “Shut up,” he muttered, standing, and dusting himself off.

They took a look at the square room they were in. It was nicer than the outside, more cleaned up, even if there were… bundles of straw? Why was there straw? Jemis dismissed it shortly, figuring maybe it was just the birds. In any case, it was all only pressed up against one wall and it was hardly noticeable if you weren’t deliberately looking for interesting finds.

It was dark, the only light coming from the various holes of the building and slits between stones, which both Jemis and Gargon supposed were meant to be windows.

There were stairs in the back left corner. Jemis took the first step.

“I don’t know about this,” Gargon said with a hand clenched around his buddy’s arm. “We can’t see up there. Whoever- if there is someone- they have the advantage against us.”

Jemis scoffed, pulling his arm away. “It’s fine. I told you the myths. The only thing that is up these stairs is-”

“Hello?”

The men went still as their gaze shifted up the stairwell.

“Is there someone down there?”

Smiling, Jemis looked at Gargon, mouthing, ‘What’d I tell you?’

“Princess? I am Sir Jemis, and my friend behind me-”

“Sir Gargon.” Oh, now he wanted to speak up.

A chirp sounded above the men and a bird came flying down, swooshing above their heads and making them both duck before it retreated upstairs again. Jemis couldn’t help the smile taking over his lips. The legend was real. It was proving itself further, and further, and further.

“May we enter what room you are in, Princess?”

Silence followed for a moment, but then there was another chirp and the princess answered. “The man at the bottom of the stairwell, leave your sword.”

Gargon looked to his hip and squinted before glancing up at the staircase again. He placed a hand on his weapon but didn’t remove it from its scabbard. “It stays with me at all times.” Gargon slept with his sword. He wouldn’t give it to a dirty floor of an old tower when, especially when demand by some random girl who shouldn’t have even known he had a sword.

“Then leave my home.”

Jemis pressed Gargon with a glare. “Just put it down. It’ll be there when we return.”

He shook his head. Absolutely not.

The feminine voice said, “If you do not lay it down- or otherwise leave- I will assume you are just another one of them.”

“One of who, Your Highness?”

The bird came flapping down again, this time flying to the wall where Jemis and Gargon noticed the various piles of clumped straw. It took a bundle in its beak and began slamming it rather viciously against the stone floor. The bundle wasn’t soft as it hit the ground. No. It made a hollow- but also solid- sound.

Gargon’s eyes widened. “Are those…”

“Bones,” the girl upstairs finished. “I am no damsel in distress, but I do like company. Some men took that to their advantage when they saw me- with me being what I am and all.”

“Jemis, we’re leaving. Come on, I feel better about wolves than I do about being here.” He casted a nervous glance at the bird, still beating a bone against the ground. Gargon grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s g-”

“Hold on,” Jemis whispered, and he stepped forward, head tilting like he saw something he fancied or was curious about.

As Gargon looked up, he saw it, too. Gold. The most glorious gold he’d ever seen. He was never one for the precious metals; he liked jewels, mostly, but this…he didn’t even know his mouth was open until he caught a cool breeze with it and snapped his lips shut.

“Drop. Your. Weapon.” The princess stepped fully into view, right at the top of the stairwell. Her skin was golden, and her hair, as well. Not only this, but her eyes were golden, too. She was…she was beautiful. She was magnificent. She was unimaginable.

Gargon nodded, wrapping his fingers around the grip of his sword, and pulling it away before dropping it on the ground. “Yes, Your Highness. I apologize if I made you feel threatened.” He bowed, and Jemis followed suit in a rather dazed way.

“You are forgiven. Now, come upstairs and tell me some stories. I do not have the pleasure of hearing them often.”

Jemis nodded, but all he could think about was how true and yet how wrong the rumours were. The princess was real, and she did live in this tower, and she did have some odd relationship with birds, but the treasure…The stories were told as if there were piles of gold. No one said the princess was the treasure herself.

Gods, her eyes were so enchanting as she watched the two men climb the stairs. They were golden, yes, but not in a solid metal kind of way. They swirled as if the stars also pooled in her eyes and were being stirred in with the gleaming yellow and orange. The men were entranced.

The room they walked into wasn’t special. It was just like the downstairs minus the….the human bones…and there was furniture in here, which was nice. They all sat in individual chairs made of creaking wood.

“It isn’t often I have two knights come to save the day.”

“Oh, I- I wasn’t- I didn’t think-”

“He was unsure if you were real or not,” Gargon filled in. “No saving intended.”

Jemis nodded rapidly. “I mean, if you needed help then we could- but you are handling yourself, so I- so we don’t…um…I apologize.”

The princess hummed sweetly. “What about you, swordsman? Did you believe in my existence?”

“N-no. I did not.”

“You have a scar on your eye,” Jemis muttered, and he hadn’t meant to be heard, but he was.

Touching her brow, where the scar was most noticeable, she sighed, looking to Gargon. “You understand why I demanded you put your sword down, yes?”

“Of course.” Gargon looked away from the princess’ beautiful eyes, looking instead at his lap, then his buddy, and his lap again when he noticed Jemis simply ogling the girl. “I am sincerely sorry. I had no idea that you…I am sorry.”

She laughed, and both men felt themselves smiling at the sound. Like caramel or something sweet, Jemis thought.

“You two are the most apologetic I have ever met. Tell me, do either of you have precious loves at home?”

“We don’t! Do not. Uh. We do not, Princess.”

Her smile fell into something mischievous. She stood from her seat, walking over to Jemis, then walking behind him, allowing her fingers to trail around his neck as she stepped. “Do you desire a strong love in your life?”

“Do I? I-I think every-everyone does.” He couldn’t think with her golden skin touching his own rather bland skin. “Gargon! You- aha- you talked about settling down when we were in the tavern, didn’t you?”

No. He didn’t. He and Jemis never even came close to discussing relationships because neither of them wanted it. They were knights- soldiers. Love had no place for them even if they wanted it. Sure, romance was glorified in the stories, but it wasn’t real, not when you could be sent off to war at any moment. Love was a fairytale, and even with the stunning princess in the room, he still didn’t believe love was one of them. Jemis suddenly did, though. And it wasn’t right because this was the first time he ever fancied it.

The princess made her way to Gargon, doing to him what she did to Jemis, dragging her beautiful skin against his. “Your colour contrasts greatly against mine,” she whispered, her hand stopping at the base of his neck as she bent down to his ear. “I dare say you are as beautiful as I am.”

“Flattering, Your Highness, but unlike my friend, I have duties to fulfil.”

“Am I not allowed to flirt with a knight?” Her lips turned against his ear and he took a shaky breath. “And anyways, who said I had deeper intentions? At least with you.” The princess pulled away from Gargon and began a leisurely stroll towards the open-mouthed Jemis once again.

Gargon stood with a dry mouth. “Jemis, we need to return home. Thank you for allowing us to stay, Your Highness, but I-”

She brought a finger to her lips. “He cannot hear you now.” The princess giggled, and this time it sounded closer to poison than sugared treats. “Your mind is very strong, Sir Gargon. I might like to keep you for a little while longer. Sir Jemis, however…”

Her Highness sighed and did the same finger-around-the-neck that she did before. Gargon watched as his friend’s eyes snapped shut. His own eyes widened and without another thought, he ran down the stairs in search of his sword, but it wasn’t there where he dropped it before.

He turned, watching the top of the staircase, and wondering what the hell he should do. Gargon wouldn’t leave his friend- he could never, but without his sword…He turned back to the floor as he thought. Gargon could hit the princess, knock her out, but that…that wasn’t right. Why was the idea of shoving her through with a sword easier than manhandling her? It didn’t matter. Where was his damn sword?

“You have been the most fun knight, Sir Gargon. You came here for treasure, did you not? I could see it in your head, that little conversation you had at the tavern with your friend upstairs. You only agreed to come when you knew you would gain something. That changed, didn’t it?”

Gargon spun on his heel, backed up step by step until his back hit the wall. It was too dark to see the bones anymore, or even the bloody door. He was trapped.

Except, the princess glowed. Bright and beautiful, her golden skin shone like an ingot in the sunlight, only her glow was confined to her skin, it didn’t stretch- didn’t light the room. It was through the glow, however, that he saw the red covering her mouth.

Tears pricked his eyes. “Please- please tell me he- tell me he is alive.”

“Would it give you hope?” Gargon didn’t answer. “I think it would, so I will say it. Your friend is alive, but I am not quite sure for how long.” She tapped her chin as she stalked towards the terrified knight. “Humans bleed out very fast.”

“What…are you?” His voice was breathy, almost unwilling to come out at all.

“Treasure.”

His mind wasn’t so hard to break this time. She broke him down with the blood on her face from her meal upstairs- which she very much enjoyed. But, the treasure-seekers were always so much more delicious, and Gargon certainly was.

( @whatwhumpcomments )

#request fill #medieval #medieval writing #Heehee #I've been wanting to write this one forever #enjoy #bon apetit #thank you nonny!#oh yeah #TWs #death #blood mention #bones- just a pile of them #think that covers it

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gameofdrarry · 3 years

Text

Wizards Hearts Recs: Angst

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 remember me by hupsoonheng Rated: Teen and Up Words: 31082 Tags: Amnesia, Temporary Amnesia, Obliviation, Established Relationship, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Legilimency, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reformed Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, Gardens & Gardening, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, POV Harry Potter Summary: On a chilly day in October, Draco kisses Harry goodbye before he goes on yet another dangerous, undercover mission with the Aurors. And then Harry doesn't come back. Only Draco believes that Harry isn't dead, and pours himself into finding his husband despite his friends' pleas to move on and grieve properly. What he finds at the end of that work, though, is not at all what he wanted. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass Rated: Mature Words: 20730 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soul Bond, Red String of Fate, Heavy Angst, Terminal Illnesses, Major Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Every Breath You Take by hephaestiions Rated: Mature Words: 19252 Tags: Major Character Death, Death (Harry Potter), Suicide, Child Death, Miscommunication, Angst, Angst and Tragedy Summary: It starts and ends with Death. Scorpius was just caught in between. Like always. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Between Myth and Man by slytherco Rated: Explicit Words: 16242 Tags: Veritaserum, Truth Serum, Mundane, London, Falling In Love, Lies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, This whole story is just Draco angsting really, Sexual Content, keeping secrets, Smoking, Bad Weather, References to Drugs, Making Out, One (1) Scared Little Sparrow, And also lots of texting Summary: Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning. A story about the complexity of choices, repressed desires that come to the surface when we least expect them, and the utter hopelessness of truths built on a foundation of lies. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Three Boxes and a Scrapbook by dracogotgame Rated: Mature Words: 30493 Tags: mention of divorce, flangst, Bill is a bro Summary: One year after being accidentally bonded to each other, Harry and Draco are free to move on with their lives. But perhaps, what they needed was here all along. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Intertwined by bluefay Rated: Explicit Words: 25086 Tags: Memory Loss, Memory Alteration, Accidental Bonding, Magic Gone Wrong, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor, Self-Harm, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Serious Injuries, But they're not very graphic so don't fret!, Self-Hatred, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Sort Of, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Hate Sex, Childhood Trauma ,Flashbacks, St Mungo's Hospital, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: On May 3rd, 1998, Draco Malfoy wakes up with no memory of Voldemort, the war, or Harry Potter, his supposed boyfriend. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di Rated: Explicit Words: 93189 Tags: H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Travel Fair, Secondary Theme: Book Fair, Commercial Fisherman Draco Malfoy, Failed Writer Harry Potter, Depressed Harry Potter, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Muscular Draco Malfoy, Recluse Harry Potter, Angst, Smut, Drama & Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Wandless Magic, Boats and Ships, Finland (Country), Fishing, Redemption, School Reunion, Minor Draco Malfoy/Original Male Character(s), Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Suicidal Thoughts, Near Death Experiences, Magical Theory, POV Alternating Summary: Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography. An invitation to the Hogwarts class of 1998's 15th reunion isn't welcomed by either of them, but neither could predict how the night, and their reunion, will upend their lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara Rated: Explicit Words: 31160 Tags: Blindness, Blind Character, Blind Harry Potter, Disability, Physical Disability, Disabled Character, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Love, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Dorks in Love, Friendship/Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Amortentia, Potions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Emotional, Emotional Roller Coaster, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Romantic Friendship, Best Friends, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, POV Harry Potter, Patronus, Spells & Enchantments, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Jealousy, Jealous Harry Potter, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Spin the Bottle, Halloween, Party, Party Games, Mistletoe, Kissing, Surprise Kissing, Boys Kissing, Rough Kissing, Drunken Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Boys In Love, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Emotional Sex, Awkward First Times, Sleeping Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Dancing, Showers, Masturbation in Shower, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Dreams, Fantasizing, Desire, Self-Esteem Issues, Substance Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Lights Camera Drarry 2020, Lights Camera Drarry, LCDrarry, LCD - Freeform, The Way he looks, film inspired, Self-Prompt, Healing Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 You open always (petal by petal) by birdsofshore Rated: Explicit Words: 65214 Tags: Post War, Rent Boy!Draco, Down-And-Out!Draco, Grimmauld Place, House magic, Portraits, First Times, Antagonism, Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Pining, Angst, UST, Kissing, Frotting, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Intergluteal Sex, Anal Sex, Homophobic Slurs And Attitudes, Internalised Homophobia, Derogatory Attitudes To Sex Workers, Some Mentions Of Sadistic Violence, Brief Thoughts Of Sexual Activity With A Sleeping Partner, Rough Sex, Brief Mention Of Harry With A Woman (Past Relationship), Mentions Of Dubious Consent In Connection With Sex Work, Community: hd_erised, Inexperienced Harry, Top Harry Potter, House Elves, Masturbation Summary: Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Solder by Oakstone730 Rated: Explicit Words: 34547 Tags: potion/alcohol addiction, Recovery, Nipple Play, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Angst, PiningUST, Reconciliation, LoveForgiveness, Cursebreaker!Draco, Artist!Harry Summary: Seven years ago, Harry disappeared out of Draco and Scorpius's life without a trace after Harry's addictions destroyed his and Draco's marriage. Now, Harry’s back, and Draco wants to believe he’s changed. But Harry isn’t the only one haunted by the past. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Three Months, Eleven Days and Nine Hours by sassy_cissa Rated: Teen and Up Words: sassy_cissa Tags: H/D Food Fair 2018, Angst, Romance, Paroled Draco Malfoy, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy/, Harry Potter Friendship, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Food Forager Draco Malfoy, Soup Kitchens, Happy Ending, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hungry Draco Malfoy Summary: Broke and living in a one room hovel in Knockturn Alley, Draco hunts in rubbish bins for food. Nothing could be more humiliating, right? Unless you're Draco Malfoy... ❤️ Read on AO3

Texting You by ununquadius Rated: Teen and Up Words: 6005 Tags: Major Character Death, text fic, draco is dead, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, or maybe hurt/no comfort, Everyday Life, Pets, Asexual Harry Potter, Indian Harry Potter, one penis drawing, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Loneliness, Drinking, Terminal Illnesses, blink and you missed them suicidal thoughts Summary: After Draco's death, Harry can't let go so he keeps texting their private chat, updating him on his life and rambling about everything and anything until it almost feels like there's a possibility that, one day, a reply will come. Read on AO3

📜 Wake Up In The Night by p1013 Rated: Explicit Words: 10483 Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Versatile Draco Malfoy, Versatile Harry Potter, Anal Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Facials, 69 (Sex Position), Coming Untouched, Love Confessions, Curses, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Drinking, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, POV Draco Malfoy, Voyeurism, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Emotional Manipulation Summary: In the days after the War ended, there were a great many things that were changed or changing, a great many things that somehow slipped beneath the notice of Ministry officials and healers from St. Mungo's and Aurors that were tasked with capturing fleeing Death Eaters. It was, after all, the end of the War, and much like war itself, the clean up was heartbreaking. Lives had been lost. The world as they knew it had been changed irrevocably. In the grand scheme of things, there were more important things to worry about than Draco Malfoy's sudden, inexplicable inability to feel love. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Coated in Rust and Blood by crazyparakiss Rated: Mature Words: 2429 Tags: Mpreg, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Angst, Violent Sex, Self-Hatred, Grief/Mourning, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: No one escapes the nightmares. That’s what his headshrinker tells Harry every time he tries to unpack the baggage he was handed from infancy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Here Without You by gracerene Rated: Explicit Words: 26869 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, War, Canon-Typical Violence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Background Het, Non-Linear Narrative, Flashbacks, Epistolary, Love Letters, Dirty Letters, An Ode to Draco's Bum, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Implied Switching, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Explosions, Harry Potter & Parvati Patil Friendship, Loneliness, Denial, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: It's been seven years since the end of the Second Wizarding War with Voldemort, and a new Dark Lady has taken over in nearby Ireland. Harry feels compelled to volunteer to fight on the front lines, but war is never safe, and Harry has a lot—including his blissfully happy relationship with Draco—to lose. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Orion in the Sky by space_wingding Rated: Explicit Words: 30709 Tags: Bookshop Owner Draco Malfoy, Coffee, Village life, Slow Burn, Pining, Denial, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Jigsaw Puzzles, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Fatal Curse, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Hospitalization, Death, Character Death, Unhappy Ending, St Mungo's Hospital, Grief, mentions of anal sex, Chronic or Terminal Illness, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: Draco Malfoy owns a bookshop in the Lake District. He’s also cursed. Enter: Harry Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Forgot to remember you by Andithiel Rated: Mature Words: 1753 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Auror Partners, Magical Accidents, Memory Loss, Partial Memory Loss, Getting Together, DreamsPining, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Rated M for language, There's not any real stuff going on Summary: Harry was hit with a spell that made him forget the week before he was hurt. Most of his memories have come back, but he has a niggling suspicion that he did something wrong. Why else would his Auror partner (and the object of his desires) go from friendly to hostile? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 On the Last Day by trishjames Rated: Explicit Words: 53481 Tags: Mystery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Unreliable Narrator, Drama, Dramatic Irony, Flashbacks, Non-Linear Flashbacks, Memory Loss, Horror Elements, Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Occlumency (Harry Potter), Occlumency as a Coping Mechanism, Panic Attacks, Discussion and Depiction of Mini Seizures, mention of overdoses, Revenge, Repression, Science, Neurology & Neuroscience, Neurological damage, Medicine, Potions, Original Characters - Freeform, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Somewhat Bond!Fic, Strong Friendships, Strong Women, Maternal love, Department of Mysteries, Unspeakables (Harry Potter), The Love Chamber, The Death Chamber, Death Potion, Amortentia, The Veil, Near Death Experiences, Souls, Major character death - Freeform, Death, forced drugging, Mind Control (Imperio), Murder, Vomit, Medical Procedures, Consent, Amoral Behaviour, Unethical Behaviour, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Possession, Ghost Sex, True Love Conquers All, ghost!harry, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Auror Harry Potter, Unspeakable/Scientist Hermione Granger, Unspeakable/Scientist Draco Malfoy, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Psst...angst with a happy ending.. Summary: Draco is still mourning the recent loss of his mother when the Wizarding World is struck with the tragic news of Harry Potter’s untimely death. It’s just his luck that Potter not only comes back as a ghost, but seems intent on haunting Draco as he’s the only one that can see him. It’s a race against time to retrace the last few days of Potter’s life in order to find his body before he’s lost to the living or spiritual realm forever. On their journey, they’ll uncover secrets, betrayals, and a horrific truth that will disrupt both the living and the dead. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Poland | A Faint Glow of Hope by EvAEleanor Rated: Mature Words: 6123 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Summer Solstice, Solstice, Curses, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Healer Hermione Granger, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, Angst, Flowers, Slavic mythology, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Mythology References. Folklore, poland - Freeform, POV Draco Malfoy, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry Summary: On Draco’s 25th birthday, somebody attempts to curse him, but Harry Potter jumps between them and is hit instead, with unexpected consequences. Potter is running out of time, and they both embark on a race against time to find the only cure that could save Harry. Little do they know they will need to face a myriad of magical creatures and their own feelings on the way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Grounds for Divorce by Tepre Rated: Explicit Words: 122217 Tags: Slow Burn, Pining, UST, Anal Sex, brief but all the same enthusiastic rimming, One (1) lemon tree, Accidental Bonding, And I mean like U! S! T!, Jealousy, Deals with Trauma, They both top at some point, ron is a good friend, Draco is a Good Cook, Dubious Consent due to the Accidental Bonding, The actual SLOWEST burn, Hurt/Comfort, Have I mentioned UST? Cannot overstate this it's like A LOT, First there's frottage, And then there's more sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, and just a lot of sex, sex on a bed, sex in the shower, sex on the floor, Sex on a settee, In other news they go to Egypt, Teddy is a Small Bean, There is one (1) cat, and one (1) happy ending Summary: Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 At Evening's End by manixzen Rated: Explicit Words: 31055 Tags: Pre-Relationship, Angst, Azkaban, Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Slow Burn, Post-Hogwarts, Friendship, Past Child Abuse, Enemies to Friends, Auror Harry Potter, Inmate Draco Malfoy, Prison, Auror Ron Weasley Summary: When the dementors are removed from Azkaban, a compromise has to be made for the prison to remain secure and wizard-kind to feel safe. Harry and Ron find themselves assigned to a rotation as guards during their first year as Junior Aurors as a part of the new system. Harry finds his values challenged in the harsh environment, but an unexpected friendship may carry him through this difficult year. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 all you ever did was wreck me by SailorChibi Rated: Mature Words: 10807 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, draco has PTSD, Harry has PTSDN, ightmares, Animagus, Harry is an animagus, prison break - Freeform, Touch-Starved, affection starved, Fear of Death, fear of touch, touch repulsed, Trauma, Aftermath of Torture, harry doesn't want anyone else to die, harry is very angry at the world, Protective Harry, harry had to grow up too soon, Possessive Harry, harry wants to protect draco, house arrest, Ministry of Magic, ministry of magic has gone power hungry, Fear of Magic, draco is scared of magic, it's been used for too much evil, Draco Malfoy Feels, Sad Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Sharing a Bed, platonically sharing a bed, First Kiss, Hugging, Cuddling, Platonic Cuddling, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, death is scary, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Endingh, appyish ending, might be a little bittersweet, but it will be ok I swear Summary: After the war, the Ministry decides to make a clean go of it and sentences all Death Eaters to death. After a year spent imprisoned beneath the Ministry, with his mother safely in France, his father dead and only the Aurors who hate him for "company", Draco is waiting for his time to die. Harry gets to him first. ❤️ Read on AO3

#angst #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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telli1206 · 3 years

Note

(1/2?) Never not gonna take the opportunity to compliment one of my favourite writers (and people) to exist. 😘♥️ SO, Telli… what do I love about your writing, let me count the Everything. I swear on all that is holy, you have to be the only person on earth who could make me love Doug even for five minutes, which is a talent in and of itself lmao. Before I read TWD….. could not have possibly imagined a reality in which Doug and Carlos being friends would be super cute, actually. But here we are! I am forced to contend with this reality thanks to your powers of fix-it characterization. ;)

Anyway, now that I got that off my chest jkldjlakjlkgsd…. you knowwww I adore your Jaylos, but of course I’m going to tell you that a million more times anyway. Your Jaylos fluff is alwayssss gonna be at the top of my list when I’m seeking a comfort fic at 3 AM. I feel like your writing just exudes warmth, if that makes sense. And well, you are a warm person (very much so 💕), but it’s something I felt from your writing before we actually talked, so… hmm, I think maybe that’s just a part of you that slips into your work, since IME the essence of a person is always visible through their writing. It’s kind of difficult to articulate ‘cause it’s more *felt* than anything else, but… warm, yes. That’s how I’d describe it. 🥰

With regards to the more technical side of things, some characteristics of your writing that always impress me are, 1) how gracefully you handle a large cast of characters, as with TWD; you give Jaylos and Malvie the sense of importance they deserve without sacrificing the other dynamics and I really admire that because I *know* how hard it is to pull that off and you make it *look* so easy and feel so real and natural, which goes into, 2) which is that your writing is so immersive because literally everything is so realistic but not the sense of… Reality 2.0, if you will? Like…. actual reality can be boring sometimes, but you know how media realism never has a dull moment when it’s done well and idk, that’s just your writing for me… TWD feels like it could be an *actual* wedding event IRL, and that brings us to 3) which is that you render such powerful and believable emotions, it’s impossible not to feel invested in what the characters are experiencing. I really, REALLY appreciate that in writing because my attention deficit ass cannot cope with an emotionally dry narrative. I need to be able to lean all the way in to what the characters are feeling or I’m gonna get bored in 2 seconds and your writing neverrrr fails to give me that kind of an anchor.

Sparrow!!! I can’t even handle all these beautiful words 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Thank you so much for this, I can’t even think of the words to express my gratitude always for your support and love through any and all of my attempts to write. I’m so happy I have you here to reassure me through all of my many critical moments - you know just what to say to make me feel better 💖🥰 Thank you again and again for all of your beautiful, amazing comments and words about my writing, I love them all SO MUCH 💖💖💖💖💖

And thank you too for sharing my passion for all thing Jaylos! It’s so fun chatting story ideas and sharing sneak peeks and just having Jaylos-centric convos with you, it’s really where most of my motivation and inspiration comes from. I don’t know where my writing would be without you, you’ve helped push me through so many moments of doubt or uncertainty about my fics, but I know for sure I would not have as much content posted without you to keep me going!

And a final THANK YOU for being one of my very favorite Jaylos writers, and for so many beautiful fics that I love to read over and over again! You know I’ve gone back to No Song to re-read the new chapter I don’t even know how many times at this point, along with Djinn!Jay, Drunk!Carlos and many, many more. Your writing is so flowery and poetic and descriptive and beautiful - it’s purely unique to you and SO, SO good! No one in this fandom can paint the pretty pictures that you do in my mind with your words...not to mention the pretty pictures you actually create as well! You are the total package, an artist with your words AND drawings, and I know I’m not the only one if this fandom that is in complete AWE of your talents 🤩🤩🤩

And on top of ALL OF THAT, you’re also just hte sweetest, kindest, most loving and genuine person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Despite going through the loss of your beautiful little Jasper this year, you try so hard to put everyone here first, and make sure we’re feeling loved and supported even when you are going through your own things. I hope you feel like you’re getting the same love and support back from us, because I’m not the only one that wants to make sure that the glowing LIGHT that is SPARROW is always shining bright in this fandom, and that you’re feeling nothing but the love and appreciation that you deserve.

I’ll leave it at that for now, because I know I have another comment from you to respond to where I’ll add more love, but just...THANK YOU. And I LOVE YOU SPARROW 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

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lizz-revs · 4 years

Text

Hatoful Boyfriend

This is both a (satirical) otome game and a rather long mystery/thriller visual novel.

Story

You are a hunter-gatherer human, who lives in a cave, and you were accepted into the prestigious St. PigeoNation’s Institute. As you master your studies and your private life you can choose to get close to a bird you desire (otherwise it’s looking bad for you because everyone needs a friend). After getting every happy or not-so-happy ending with the birds you chose, you may read the True Story, if you’re brave enough. While romanticizing birds is fun and happy, the truth is far more depressing than you might have thought.

Characters

Hiyoko Tosaka

A teenage girl, who is in her sophomore year in St. PigeoNation's and accustomed to her life alone in a cave, while the only “people” she sees every day are birds. She isn’t really smart, but somehow very lively and cares about her childhood friend very much. The main character is a curious girl, who isn’t prejudiced against people (as you can see because she doesn’t trust the rumours about the school’s doctor) and has the ability to befriend everyone. She is very open-minded and chooses her activities based on the birds she has an interest in.

The Birds

Ryouta Kawara, a rock dove

He is the main character’s childhood friend and often has to go to the infirmary to get painkillers. Therefore, he is a good acquaintance of the school’s doctor Shuu Iwamine.

Sakuya Le Bel Shirogane, a fantail pigeon

He is from a French aristocratic family and very full of himself. He thinks that he is smarter than everyone else (, which is also kind of true), but boasts too much about it. That’s why the most birds don’t really like him.

Yuuya Sakazaki, a fantail pigeon

He is Sakuya's older half-brother and pretty much the polar opposite of him. He is very popular, mostly with the girls, and flirtatious. Sometimes he acts very secretive though.

Nageki Fujishiro, a mourning dove

He is very quiet and loves books. He actually seems never to leave the library.

San Oko, a fantail pigeon

He is part of the track club and very athletic. Oko’s major obsession is pudding (I kind of can relate).

Anghel Higure, a Luzon bleeding-heart

He is very eccentric and behaves like he is part of a fantasy role-playing game, where he has to save the world.

Kazuaki Nanaki, a button quail

He is very kind, but almost always falls asleep while conversations (or lessons). Nanaki is the protagonist's homeroom teacher.

Azami Koshiba, a Java sparrow

She is a takoyaki salesperson, who has somehow a similar mentality as the protagonist and acts like her mentor.

Shuu Iwamine, an adorable chukar partridge

He is the school's doctor (and your hidden desire, I know it). Most of the time he is doing some experiments or thinking about doing experiments. He isn’t social at all, but he thinks of the heroine as “an interesting specimen”.

My Opinion

This game is great.

That has two reasons:

First about the otome game: I really liked the characters and the stories because they were short, but hilarious. In addition, I think it was a good idea to use common otome troupes and interpret them rather satirical. And I am amazed that they actually used birds as your romantic interest. (Those birds had still more personality than the characters in some otome I know…). Actually, I also liked the characters even if it wasn’t for the satirical aspect of the game, especially Shuu. They all had distinct personalities and their own story, which seemed very detailed and well written.

However, what I liked the most is that this game stayed realistic. When there were things hinted at and the main character didn’t believe it, it didn’t end with the world being wrong or the romantic interest suddenly changing out of love and affection for the main character. No, it still ended like it should. I think there are a lot of games that would instead just gloss over the bad traits of a chosen partner and twist around the plot and reality so much just to get a happy end. People need games like this, which just tell them “No, you won’t change this person into something better just by wishing it. If he is satisfied with it himself, if he doesn’t want to change himself, you are not going to matter”. Another important message was that you can’t just force your chosen partner to stay with you, if he has another goal in life without making them unhappy. Because in this game this person would still choose his goal over you and it’s kind of a healthy choice in my opinion because giving up their dreams in order to stay with someone is a very high price. However, some otome seem to imply, if a person doesn’t do it, they don’t love you, which is I think simply wrong.

The second reason I like this game is the True Story. After reading through the otome game route, I found myself reading a rather dark thriller. It was both interesting and depressing at the same time. However, it had a philosophical idea behind it and this idea is somehow sad, if you think about it. I’d say read this for yourself and then you will see, what I mean. What I can only add is that the True Story engrossed me totally and I read it in one go. It’s written not only in the protagonist’s, but also Ryouta’s perspective, and you can see, how good the writing actually is because the style completely changes depending on the character, who is telling the story.

To summarize: This game is amazing. It succeeds in the rather satirical interpretation of an otome game and tells a story with a philosophical message at the same time. It is a lot deeper than it seems at the beginning and has a lot of hidden messages that it wants to share with you.

You will actually fall in love with a bird.

You will not regret falling in love with a bird.

And you will never forget neither the game nor that bird.

(I’m still calling almost all doves Ryouta, so even my friends, who never played this game, know that name by heart now)

And after falling in love with a bird, you can choose to play the sequel:

Hatoful Boyfriend: Holiday Star

This is a very short game, including a few short stories about the Hatoful Boyfriend Universe. These stories are more of a further explanation of the main story than a sequel.

First there is the story about Christmas and two birds, who make a lot of mischief. The next story is about saving the school (or the world) as Sailor- I mean Magical Birds (?). And the most famous story is the story of the King of another planet.

The story of the King is actually also the story, which provides the background information for the True Story in Hatoful Boyfriend from another perspective. It is also a very tragic story as I might add and features a lot of resentment and some more mature contents like depression and suicidal thoughts.

After finishing the short stories, you can also read some short episodes, where you can actually have a date with your chosen bird at the shrine (he can also look like a human, not a bird, in the scene).

About new (major) Characters

The King

He is very welcoming at first, but then starts to be more evil towards the guests of the planet. As you progress through the story, you learn about his tragic past and about how he became king of the planet.

The Traveller

He is a nice fellow, who helps you throughout the travel on the king’s planet and is a free spirit wandering from planet to planet. But, he is as stuck on the king’s planet as you are because the king doesn’t want to let anyone go.

(And also there is Tohri, who is the antagonist of the second story and is the self-proclaimed rival of Iwamine Shuu. Yes, I know Tohri would hate being mentioned like that, but what can I say, he just chose the wrong bird to bicker with.)

My Opinion

You should also buy this game, if you liked Hatoful Boyfriend because it’s as well-written as the first game and additionally provides you with details about the True Story and the main characters. Again, this games deals with heavy topics in some of the stories, so it’s like the first game not that happy and carefree as it would seem on the first glance.

Somehow, I even thought this game is more depressing than the True Story because of the King’s story. However, in contrast to that the “dates at the shrine” are more than enough to get everything back on the “it’s your typical otome game” track, plus the other stories weren’t that dark and more satirical as well.

If you thinking about buying this game, maybe buy the DLC as well, if you want to have some goodies and a background of your favorite partridge.

#hatoful boyfriend #hatoful boyfriend holiday star #game #visual novel #review #curator

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freshlyjuicedbeetles · 4 years

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Commodore Norrington x Reader Fic! Chapter 3

Title: The Same Water

Genre: Romance, Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences thus far.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, drowning, and racism.

Summary: Commodore Norrington washes up on the shore and you must find out why.

Notes: I intentionally kept the main character ambiguous (but female) so readers can fill themselves in!

James and I got up early the next morning to head down to the marina. The sky was a dazzling pink only an island could produce.

“Here she is, Seaclusion! Don’t make fun of me. My dad named it.” James got a chuckle out of the other punny names of the neighboring boats.

We climbed aboard, and James inspected the vessel, fascinated by hundreds of years of progress.

“Here,” I said, tossing James a life vest and securing my own.

“What is this?”

“It’s a life jacket. It’ll help you stay afloat if you fall overboard.”

“Ingenious!” James said in awe as he put his on.

“Oh, and these,” I said, digging around in a compartment by the wheel. I pulled out a pair of old aviators and sunscreen. “To protect your eyes and your skin. Though you’re probably already riddled with skin cancer from living in the Caribbean unprotected for years. Keep an eye on that freckle behind your ear.”

James touched the freckle self-consciously.

“You know how to swim, don’t you?”

James rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Of course I do.” He put on the aviators and dang, he looked good. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of interrogation with him. He had an intimidating air about him that he could turn on and off.

The engine roared to life, and the beginning cords of ‘The Real Thing’ by George Strait played on the speakers. James looked overboard to the motor and rudder underwater.

“I’m sure you have better sea legs than I do, but you might want to take a seat,” I said, gesturing the rows of seats on the front deck.

“Hold on!” I said and came up to speed, pulling out of the marina. James was pushed back in his seat by the motion, not expecting a boat to go that fast. I wanted to show him what ships were like nowadays. Even over the rushing wind, I could hear him laughing with glee.

We sailed to the other side of the island with dolphins in our wake. How lucky was I that I lived somewhere where dolphins were so accessible!

I turned down the speakers, “This is Pier 21. Our cruise ships dock here, and on the other side are the shrimp boats that supply these restaurants first.” Large pelicans lazed around the docks and boats, hoping for some fish scrap from the sailors. James wasn’t paying attention; he was gazing at the Elissa like a starved man in an oasis.

“What is this glorious creation?” James stood as we idled.

I smiled, “That’s the Elissa. A little after your time, but I’m sure you can sail her just as good as anyone else on this island.”

The Elissa was a tall ship from 1877. After many different roles in life all across the globe, she was moored in Galveston.

“Is she still functional?”

“Oh yeah, she goes on one big sail to Europe once a year. She’s mostly a teaching vessel now. And next to that is a yacht. Some restauranteur owns it and has a staff to keep it ready around the clock even though I’ve seen him use it like five times.”

“Is it common for laypeople to own such vessels?” He asked, finally pulling his eyes from the Elissa.

“Here on the island, yeah, pretty much everyone has a boat. They’re still quite common on the mainland, depending on how close you are to water. I’d say a boat is definitely attainable to the upper-middle class.”

“You mentioned a ‘cruise ship’?”

“Yeah, they’re huge ships that can hold thousands of people who sail for vacation. See that huge thing over there?”

“Is that a ship?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yep, let’s get closer.”

We were dwarfed by the cruise liner. James looked up in disbelief as we buoyed in its shadow. “Galveston is a port city for cruise liners, bananas, farm equipment…Oh, and you need to see this,” I said as we turned and sped into the open water.

“I think you’ll like this,” I said as we pulled up next to the wreckage of a rusted and splintered ship.

“I am perplexed, yes,” James answered.

“This is the Selma, and it’s totally made out of concrete, or mortar, I guess is similar.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Yep.

“Surely, she never saw the open ocean.”

“It did actually. Until it was damaged, and it was far too costly to repair due to war, and it was scuttled.”

James looked to the horizon, “Why are those ships not in the harbor?” Container ships always loomed in the distance of Galveston Island.

“Again, costs too much but also because the channel isn’t deep enough.”

“Are pirates a concern?”

“I’ve never seen a pirate in my life. I guess pirates were your version of terrorists,” I said.

James thought, then nodded, seemingly decided the word was correct.

“Unfortunately, we still have a problem with terrorism, plus pirates as you would know them. Instead of big ships, they run around on jet skis or dhows today. They’re mostly a problem in the Indian Ocean and around that area.”

“So, they’ve been cornered…”

“What? Down boy! You want to go pirate hunting? Well, unfortunately, pirates are actually looked upon favorably as of recently.”

James looked at me like I’ve grown two heads, “Especially here. I guess people like the freedom of just going wherever you want to and forget that they were actually terrorists. Not that piracy is now legal or anything.”

“And what are those machines in the distance?”

“Oil rigs. They dig oil from the earth, and we use it to power just about everything. Crews live on them for weeks at a time. Usually, there are less parked here, but the price of oil has dropped, so companies don’t need as many.”

Container ships and offline oil rigs loom in the distance of Galveston Island. It’s almost like the giant guardians that protect us.

“Do you want to try?” I asked, gesturing to the wheel.

He looked hesitant at first but quickly accepted. “The wheel is the same as it ever was, this is the accelerator, how fast you want to go, the kill switch if something goes awry…” I explained. James and I then switched places, but I stood behind him in case something happened. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the proximity to another person and a woman, but when we got up to speed, he looked like a bird who could finally fly again. I almost didn’t have it in my heart to ask him to surrender the wheel.

When we got home, there was a package at my doorstep. My heart started to thrum when I saw it was from the police department. I hurriedly tore it open when we got inside. The contents of the box smelled like mildew, salt, and brine. It was James’ uniform. I pushed it to him as I read the letter that was on top of it. It was a standard form letter saying they were closing the case due to insufficient evidence that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the uniform.

James held the uniform in his hand. “Do you have a fireplace?” He asked.

“Why?” I asked.

“It makes me ill.” He replied.

“You don’t want it?”

“It’s a mark of failure, both personal and professional. I would think it best if it was gone.”

“I have a fire pit.”

“Splendid.”

Later that night, Jericka came over, and we started the fire. James unceremoniously dropped the heap of clothes in the fire and sat down with us around it. Jericka and I drank while James abstained.

“To new beginnings,” I said, raising my bottle of Ziegenbock. James nodded, watching the fabric burn.

“You know, there are probably costumers and historians who would have dove in there for that uniform,” Jericka said.

“So…what happened? Before you died?” I asked.

James was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts. “I can pinpoint the exact day when everything changed. An idiot pirate sailed into my port. To attempt to capture him, my men and I sailed through a hurricane. Only a handful survived, and I resigned in shame. I essentially became a pirate myself for the time, drunk, and destitute. Then, I meant Davy Jones.” James leaned forward, the fire casting shadows on his face, almost making his sharp features look hawk-like.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“I am. He is something of a grim reaper of the seas. I was stabbed by one of his crewmen. That’s all I remember.”

“You sailed into a hurricane?” Jericka asked, “And you made it all the way to Admiral?”

James scowled. “I had no choice.”

“But what’s so wrong about the uniform, or being called Admiral?”

“I didn’t earn it, nor was it through the Royal Navy. I worked for the East India Trading Company, who were no better than pirates themselves when I was an admiral. I took the post out of necessity, greed, and selfishness. I was only serving myself, not the Crown, not the people. I was no better than a pirate as well. I much rather be called commodore if you have to address me by title.”

Jericka gave a low whistle, “Then I’m sure you heard of Galveston before.” She took a drink from her bottle.

“Was it a pirate’s den?”

“Oh yeah, Jean Lafitte owned the place.”

“Lafitte? I have heard of him. I always seemed to run into a sun-drenched lunatic named Jack Sparrow.”

“He sounds like quite the character.”

“He was. If Lafitte settled here, I must be in Campeche.”

I snapped my fingers. “I never thought of that! That’s like Galveston history 101!” I said to Jericka.

“Well, I know where I’m at, so that brings some more comfort,” James said.

“Okay, Commodore,” Jericka said, “Tell us about yourself.”

James looked like we just asked him to explain nuclear physics.

“Pets? Did you have any pets?” I asked.

“Well, I had a horse named Scout back in the Caribbean. I think she tried to kill me once.” James said casually. “And there were coconut crabs all over the fort I was stationed at. They stole everything.”

“A horse? Tried to kill you? And crabs stole your stuff?” Jericka asked skeptically.

“No one believed me! Even then!” James said adamantly and gestured wildly as he told the story, “I swear this horse was calculating, and she hated me. How would a horse know to stop right below a hanging lantern so my tricorn would catch fire?”

“Maybe you should have been paying better attention…” I said gently.

James started to speak, but thought better, “Fair enough.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Jericka said excitedly, “We need to take him to Pieces of Ship! Down on Mechanic street!”

“Excuse me?” James asked, not believing his ears.

I laughed, “It’s a shop that sells parts from ships; maps, flags, wheels, bells, you name it.”

“No, Mrs. Norrington, huh?” Jericka teased as James stoked the fire. She winked at me.

“Close, but it wasn’t meant to be,” James said, looking down for a moment.

“Yeah, everything I’ve read about you never mentions anyone,” I said. I was noticing I was relieved when I found out James never married. However, by his wording and the tone of his voice, there was someone he wanted. Jealousy tingled at my nerves.

“I appreciate time for forgetting such a blunder.” He gave a small, defeated smile.

“Sweetheart,” I said, “I think you need to see a therapist.”

We burst out laughing.

By the end of the night, we were laughing incessantly. I felt like we became friends with James at that point.

#James Norrington #pirates of the caribbean #commodore norrington

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windandwater · 4 years

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Since it’s September and the highest of holy days, Talk Like a Pirate Day, is coming up again, I wanted to address a change I’ll be making this year: I’ve decided to un-ban Jack Sparrow and his actor from my blog. I won’t be spamming him or anything, but I did want to make this programming note in case I do decide to reblog some content with him in it.

I’ve been screamed at for “not doing my research” by his fans and I blocked everyone who accused me of that with extreme prejudice. This is not as a result of that, and I still will not be tolerating that behavior, which I still find really obnoxious and disturbing. Instead, this is because of more recent news that leads me to believe the whole situation was not a cut-and-dry case of abuse, but a toxic relationship that got shoved into the public eye and turned into celebrity gossip.

I personally have trouble engaging with anyone who fits into the first category, but I have no interest in the latter. Normally I’d link to research & articles on a topic like this, but honestly I find the tone of the reporting on it really distasteful at best, and voyeuristic and gross at worst. Feel free to google it--I really am sorry that I can’t turn up a respectful & comprehensive article, but I was starting to feel slimy and had to back away from the whole thing. 

Suffice to say it no longer matters to me what kind of person he is (unless other, more serious allegations arise). I really enjoyed the character onscreen—I always did—and I feel his personal relationships and character have moved into the realm of “not my business.” I may revise this at a later date. But for now I no longer feel nauseous looking at his face, and that’s enough.

(Note: This also applies to her.) 

One more quick note: this has been expressed on tumblr before but I think it’s important to keep repeating. This was something that was really really important to me growing up. Cutting it out was hard for me, and a hard decision to make but I stand by it (even though I’m changing it now).

Because liking something or someone that turns out to be problematic in really upsetting ways doesn’t make you a bad person. The fact that you were shaped by something that had deep-rooted issues says nothing about you as a person or your character. People that don’t like it or point out its flaws aren’t attacking you personally.  

I believe there’s no “correct” approach to dealing with this situation. Mine, personally, has been to recognize the parts of the media or the person that brought me joy and shaped me, and let the rest go. I also find it fulfilling to create my own art, whether transformative or original, that challenges the parts of our society that allowed those problematic things to persist, while also celebrating the good things I learned from the art and people that shaped me.

I do think some measure of separation is important, if only to not continue to support people who have done so much damage. For me that also means choosing not to feature them publicly on my blog, even if I still retain a soft spot for their work in the past.

No matter how you choose to draw your own lines, it’s hard and never gets easier. But each one of us has the power to make the world better or worse simply by existing in it. It’s our job to choose every day to do the hard work of choosing to do the former.

Sometimes that means being flexible in your opinion as facts and information changes, and sometimes it means sticking to your principles even when it means the loss or partial loss of something you really care about.

On a personal note, however, I am very glad to be able to watch movies that I adore unironically again, without feeling ill. Bring me that horizon!

#adventures in text posts #couldn't find a natural place to cut this so here we are #...think I'm gonna adapt the second half of this into its own post #some of those lines are too raw to leave in this post #housekeeping #also his fans still gross me the fuck out #probably no more content with just him #but if he's in it I won't leave it out #that's what this means

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thecandywrites · 4 years

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Of Heaven and Fire Part 11

Do ya’ll have any idea how long I’ve been saving that picture of Benyana’s brother Kaive? Since part 1. Finally. He’s here. Ya’ll are in for a treat.

Tagging the crew. @probablyclever @imherefortheforthefanart @funmadnessandbadassvikings

Of Heaven and Fire Part 11

“...and a thousand.” You counted out before you were handed a set of documents which you quickly put away into your satchel before you gave your orders to the builders and gave them a bonus in their wages and gave the foreman your new orders before you began to walk the long walk back down the beach towards Stormbreaker before Oriles came out of the water to walk next to you.

“How are the legs working out?” You asked him curiously as you walked together.

“Strange, like two tails instead of one but they have to work together as one to get anywhere.” He answered.

“You’ll get used to them.” You offered as you took his arm as you walked together, your steps going in tandem.

“Why did those gold tattoos on those orcs surprise you?” He asked curiously.

“Can you keep a secret?” You whispered.

“I’m a Prince of the 9 Seas, of course I can. Besides, I would also like to be your friend. And It would honor me to keep your confidence.” He flattered as your intuition told you that for now, you could count on him.

“Look at the back of my neck.” You offered before he did and frowned.

“You have a gold tattoo too!” He realized.

“It’s called the gold moura mark. All moura are born with it. So if they have it, they are also moura.” You explained. “But the fact that they think it’s an orc thing, they’re...intimidating, not to mention fierce, powerful and are in great numbers and have a strength I don’t dare play against, so I don’t dare correct them.” You answered. “Every moura a few months after birth grows what’s called a moura cloak- it does look like a feather blanket at first. However someone is stealing the cloaks from them and they think it’s one of their gods and have built a tradition around it. To steal a moura’s cloak is a very serious crime and injustice and whoever is doing it- is counting on the orcs not realizing the real value of what they have lost and their own naivety, if not imposed ignorance. It’s like if I were to trade you two tiny pearls for a large pearl just because there’s two of them instead of one, counting on the fact that you don’t know that your one large pearl is worth more than two small ones, if not many small ones. They’re content with the sack of gold only because they don’t know the true worth of what’s been taken from them and it’s just a matter of time before they find out and when they do, it could be another war, one that no one would win, so we all need to be careful and cautious.” You explained.

“Ooohhh,” Oriles nodded in understanding. “That’s why Mr. Jealousy was as shocked as you were, because he’s moura too.” Oriles realized as you giggled at the name.

“He is jealous isn’t he?” You asked rhetorically. “I don’t know how I’ll handle him. Usually men who are like that irk me and I have nothing to do with them. Now I have to deal with him or else.” You grumbled.

“Who says you have to?” Oriles questioned.

“The hundred and fifty thousand heavenly moura above us.” You answered as you looked up and noticed they seemed to watch you steadily. “I’m worried one wrong move from me will have disastrous results.” You muttered.

“You already told us that we are not to harm either you or your family or the other competitors.” He countered.

“I don’t trust Cordene to honor that.” You said plainly which got Oriles to grin.

“Well at least we both sense that.” He nodded.

“If you could keep an eye on him for me, I would appreciate it. He may let things slide in front of you that he may not with me. I trust you won’t abuse this and put words in his mouth or falsely malign him.” You furthered.

“It’s obvious you are an honest person and therefore put importance on honesty from others, despite the situation. I respect that and I respect you. I will do as you ask.” Oriles agreed.

“Thank you.” You thanked him.

“So what were you doing over here?” He asked as he turned to look at the docks under construction behind you.

“Getting more information about what’s going on there, I like to be well informed.” You placated. “Rhos said that they’re building the docks to circumvent Stormbreaker. I came to see if it’s true.” You explained.

“And?” He asked curiously.

“Not quite, but her hunch was close. When people are fearful, they assume the worst about everyone and everything. To be cautious is good, but too fearful and you become too guarded to believe the truth if it’s not as bad as what you fear it is.” You advised as Oriles grinned fondly at you. How wise you were despite how young he knew you were.

Once you got back Suriel and Cordene unveiled their gifts to the clans in your honor since they could tell you held the clans in a safeguarded fondness, they were mobile villages on clouds that the orcs could move into that could travel all the way up to Suchi, one for Stormbreaker and one for Hurricane Breaker and you were unbelievably pleased before Suriel revealed to Oriles that he would make sure Oriles’ ship would also float up to the city so his own people would be able to be close and have a home away from home as well which pleased you supremely.

However that night at midnight the cloak detached and Suriel woke you up to tell you that within mere moments of it being detached, someone was already there to steal it and you were instantly enraged to the point you transformed into a missile hawk and flew after the two sparrows that flew like bats straight out of hell out of the top of the tent where there was a hole for the smoke from the fire inside it- to come out of and once they saw you, they transformed into missile hawks to try to evade you but you were determined and your rage gave you a fuel that you sorely needed and in moments of great acrobatic feats as you both fired at the other before you managed to hit each of them while evading their own fire and then you caught them and drug them down to the ground before they were captured in cages and you transformed into yourself.

“Change into yourselves you fucking bastards!” You roared angrily as they looked at each other and simply backed into the corners and away from you, doing their best to imitate real missile hawks.

“Suriel,” you called out before he was at your side in an instant and all it took was for him to flick the cages and both birds instantly transformed into their human forms as you gasped in horrified shock.

There, at the bottom of the cages knelt your brother Kaive and your brother in law Garis.

“Oh fuck.” Suriel breathed.

“Who are they?” Cordene asked as you were ready to set them both on fire as a fire like glow came from your heart then rose up your throat.

“Hey, hey, hey, take a step back and breathe.” Brock realized as he pulled you away and tried to calm you down which surprised Kaive and Garis the most as Brock watched as the glow began to wane before it died out.

“Talk to me, who are those guys?” Brock asked before you started to cry.

“That’s my brother Kaive and my brother in law Garis, this doesn’t make sense, they would never do anything like this.” You explained as you steadily lost your composure before Brock just hugged you as you sobbed into his chest as the others turned to Kaive and Garis as they both winced and grimaced.

“Then ask them to explain themselves.” Brock invited before he brought you back but just looking at their guilty expressions and posture got you seeing red again.

“What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You?!” You screeched before Brock had to pull you away from attacking the cages once he saw your hands becoming clawed as the air above you started to waiver from the heat rolling off of you in the brisk spring night air.

“Hey, they can’t answer you if you burn them to ash before they get a chance to explain themselves.” Brock calmly if not a little firmly reminded you. “Hey Suriel, how about you do the asking for a minute. You have a level head and know what’s really going on right?” Brock suggested as he tried to make sure you just didn’t turn into a fiery phoenix.

“Explain yourselves.” Suriel demanded as Brock did his best to calm you down.

“Elder Vedross told us that another moura colony was attacked and in the spoils was a baby’s moura cloak which the figured the orcs thought was just a blanket and put the blanket around their own child and tasked us with getting it back and suggested we leave a bag of money so that the orcs could buy a proper baby blanket but when we saw that the cloak actually belonged to the baby, we knew something was wrong so we left the money and the blanket on the baby and we fled.” Kaive explained.

“Vedross?” You repeated in confusion. Elder Vedross was someone you never would have suspected of something like this but it only made you realize that this corruption was more vampant and arcane than you thought it was? What if TriKeng was actually rather new to this scandalous sin? What if this had been going on for centuries? What if there were other clans with gold moura marks? What if every colony’s elders were guilty of this? You were just one girl. Granted you were in extraordinary circumstances, and you did currently have legions at your disposal but did you really, honestly, want to use them on the very people you knew and loved and attack the colonies? Attack the very fabric of your way of life? Was there any answer to this problem that didn’t involve either blood or ash? And what if your family was more involved than it already was?

You swallowed down the bile in your throat as you took a measured breath to keep yourself from hyperventilating as you could feel yourself grow numb in response to your overwhelming thoughts.

“Tell me the truth, is this your first time doing this?” You questioned as they both affirmed that as you stalked over to them, angry tears rolling down your cheeks.

“And are either of you aware that these cloaks have been stolen from these people for generations? To the point that these people have built an entire tradition around the theft? And does the council of elders know that all it takes is for word to get out of the true nature of this and no moura on the surface would be safe? Ever? Every moura would have to go back to the heavens or face these warhammers and battle axes and atone for these sins. These people have had their very birthrights stolen from them, their powers stripped from them and purposefully kept in the dark about the true nature of what’s been stolen from them. All of these crimes will be answered for and justice will be served- so may the gods help and deliver me I will see to it that each and every single one of these people will get their cloaks back or I will expose anyone and everyone involved so that the whole world will know the truth in vivid detail and whatever has been built on these sins I will break and tear apart thread by thread and brick by brick if I need to because these people are our brethren and they deserve to be recognized and respected as such and deserve to be welcomed into our brotherhood as a whole.” You insisted.

“Because here I’ve risked my life to find a way to help Suchi, as we speak there are ships whose holds are frozen solid with seafood meant for Suchi and in just a matter of days we will be at the base of the mountain ready to climb up the passes and if the elders would just open their gates and if they would receive us in peace and joy and fortune we could be such strong allies. No one would come up against us ever again if we really embraced our brethren like we should have all along. Now if there is a way that that can happen without bloodshed and without everything set on fire to fuel war and for this great wrong to be set right, I’m all for it. The council of elders has until we get up to the gates to decide how to proceed.” You decided before you set them free.

“Ok, I’ll let them know.” Garis nodded before he fled while Kaive stayed put.

“Aren’t you going to go with him?” You prodded as you nodded up to Garis’ shrinking form in the night sky.

“No, only one messenger should be needed for a message like that.” He answered before he cautiously came forward. “I really am sorry that I was stupid enough to get caught up in this, but I am so happy and relieved you’re ok, obviously.” Kaive apologized.

“Thank you.” You sniffled as you hugged him.

“How about I stay with you for now.” Kaive suggested.

“Ok,” you nodded before you introduced him to everyone around you before he walked you back to the clan where Cordene and Suriel were all to happy to have you sleep in one of the homes on the massive cloud island that had been built for Stormbreaker.

“How the fuck did you manage all of this?” Kaive asked as you both settled in bed as you curled into him.

“Kaive, do I have a tale for you…” You chuckled.

#Of Heaven and Fire #Of Heaven and Fire Part 11 #orc #orcs #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #moura #merman #siren #angel boyfriend #exophilia #exo

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chaos-ineffable · 5 years

Text

I’ve fallen hard for @professorflowers reverse au and I just had to write something for these adorable boys. Hopefully, you enjoy!

You can also read it on my AO3

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

Crowley fucking loves sleep. As far as he is concerned, there is nothing like laying in a soft bed after a long day and just not existing for a few hours. Even better is when he can convince his precious swan to lay in bed next to him. Zira rarely sleeps, despite Crowley’s best efforts, but he has mentioned before that he enjoys watching Crowley sleep.

If anyone asks, Crowley did not become a flustered, blushing mess at the comment.

Thankfully, everyone knows better than to ask.

Crowley loves sleep but sometimes it evades him. He was not designed for sleep, after all. On these nights, he’ll usually give up early and go find his swan. Never a hard task, especially since Zira usually wants to be found.

Tonight, though, Crowley smiles down at his demon. It is one of the rare nights Zira decides to share his bed and he is sprawled out over the mattress on his stomach, his swan wings spread out over the pillows. The angel gently runs a hand through those soft feathers, enjoying the small hum it draws from his little sparrow.

He’s content to just sit here and watch Zira sleep. It’s a sight he rarely gets to see but it is one of his favorites. In sleep, the demon loses the anxious scrunch of eyebrows and the sad twist of lips. He looks content in a way Crowley has never seen when he is awake. The scar over his mouth glints faintly in the moonlight, it’s golden sheen whispering the truth of how it came to be.

Crowley frowns slightly at the memory. He doesn’t like thinking about the first time he met Zira. The blood and tears and Zira’s fear. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He shakes the thoughts away and continues stroking the demon’s smaller wings.

Part of him wishes the night could stay like this forever. Once Zira wakes, he will bustle around the flat like a hummingbird, not resting until Crowley pulls out his favorite book and offers to read it to him. Crowley will pretend to be annoyed but will not try to hold back his smile. Zira will all but fly into his lap and make himself comfortable. Then Crowley will read until one of them falls asleep.

He smiles softly at the thought. That is a routine they have followed for centuries. It is one that he will fight to keep, even if it means going up against the whole Host.

Zira shifts beside him, a small sound escaping him. His swan wings flutter, shaking Crowley’s hand from where it is still buried in the feathers. Crowley watches him in confusion. His duckling is a peaceful sleeper. He rarely makes noises in his sleep and can get up as if he was never asleep at all.

It doesn’t take long for Crowley to understand what’s happening.

Zira begins whimpering, his swan wings drawing over his face, completely covering his features. The thickest part covers his mouth. His hands clench into fists around the bedsheets, his face scrunching in pain. His whimpers turn into quiet gasps which turn into sobs. His larger wings manifest and begin beating the air, the feathers ruffled and puffed up.

Crowley grabs him, gentle but firm, and pulls the demon to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s okay, lovebird, I’ve got you. You’re fine. You’re okay.” He soothes, rubbing circles into Zira’s back. He ignores the wings thumping against him, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid taking a feather to the eye.

Slowly, Zira comes too. He struggles slightly in Crowley’s grip before he recognizes where he is and latches onto the angel, burying his face in auburn hair. His wings fall limp on the bed and he clutches at Crowley, sobbing quietly into his neck.

Crowley continues to murmur soothing nothings into his hair, stroking his wings and back and head softly.

Eventually, the demon pulls away, wiping at his eyes and sniffling sadly. With trembling hands, he signs a slow, “I’m sorry.”

Crowley shakes his head and places his hands on the demon’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.”

“But I woke-” he pauses mid-sign to wipe away more tears, “-you up.”

“No, you didn’t. I promise. I’ve been awake for hours.” He can’t help but smile a little bit. His swan is far too sweet. “And even if you had woken me, I’d prefer to be awake now than to know that you went through that alone.”

Zira smiles back at him. The scar stretches with his lips, stopping him from smiling fully. His face falls as it pulls slightly at his muscles. His swan wings pull towards his mouth, beginning to cover up the scar.

Crowley watches him sadly. He wishes he could remove the awful reminder but he is powerless against the mark of a holy blade. He rubs Zira’s shoulders comfortingly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Zira closes his eyes, more tears falling down his cheeks. Crowley leans forward and presses soft kisses against the streaks they leave behind. When he pulls back, Zira gestures towards the scar.

It’s enough for Crowley to understand. Zira had dreamed about losing his tongue.

“Oh, swan,” he whispers, pulling the demon back against him.

He feels Zira’s shaking fingers begin to sign against his stomach. He pays attention, sure to catch every word. He feels his own tears begin to well up as he listens.

“You were there too. They beat you and cut off your wings. They made me watch. Then they…took my tongue again. It was just like in the Garden. I was so,” he hiccupped softly into Crowley’s shoulders, his fingers stuttering for a moment, “I was so scared, Crowley. They were hurting you and I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

Crowley buried his face in his duckling’s neck, grateful when one of the small wings pressed against the back of his head, completely enveloping him in Zira. The demon’s hands had fallen into Crowley’s lap, fingers lax against his thighs.

“Do you remember what I said when we first met?” he whispered against Zira’s neck. “‘I’m not going to let anything hurt you ever again.’ Do you remember that?”

Zira nodded slowly, bending forward to bury his own face in Crowley’s neck. His lips trembled against soft skin.

“I meant it, lovebird. Nothing is going to hurt you, not while I’m around. You have nothing to worry about. I promise.” He pulled away just enough to look Zira in the eye. “Do you believe me?”

Zira’s black eyes flickered between his golden ones. Uncertainty and fear were obvious in the draw of his eyebrows. Crowley cupped one cheek and pressed their foreheads together, bumping noses gently. He breathed with his demon, letting the swan consider his words.

After a few minutes, Zira pulled away. Before Crowley could ask his question again, lips were pressed against his. His precious swan kissed him like it was their last day on earth. Crowley kissed back just as fervently. He tipped onto his back, pulling Zira with him, situating so the demon was resting between his legs. They continued kissing, taking delight in the other’s desperate moans and keening whimpers.

Eventually, Zira pulled back for air that he didn’t need and signed a quick, messy sentence. “I will always believe you.”

Crowley smiled and pulled his swan back down, “I love you, sweetheart.”

#ineffable lovebirds #ineffable husbands #good omens #reverse omens #my writing

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

904.

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? >> A beverage.

Do you like clowns? >> No.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? >> There have only been two thus far, and I can't imagine lying on a survey question anyway.

What's the third text in your inbox? >> ---

Are you listening to anything at the moment? >> No.

Do you twitch when your falling asleep? >> Yeah, sometimes. Or I have that sudden falling feeling and jerk awake.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? >> The dishwasher is either still running or finished running, so, either clean or about to be clean.

Are you at home or with friends more often? >> 98% of the time, I’m at home.

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? >> A year ago? At least? I don’t know. I tried to ride for a while but I’m too out of shape to enjoy it and it was discouraging. And by now, I’m worried it needs maintenance from having sat in the garage through a full cycle of seasons and I’m afraid to ride it.

What have you eaten today? >> A veggie burger and chips, a sandwich, and taco mac with Nuggs.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? >> ---

Do you own a strapless bra? >> No.

Does the person you like know it? >> ---

Do you care if people hate you for no reason? >> I care in some circumstances, but not all.

Did anything brighten up your day today? >> I’m not sure. My day was pretty okay, though. To my pleasant surprise.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? >> Chill. A bit tired.

Are you someone who worries too often? >> I get anxious about things, but I’m not sure “worries too much” is applicable.

If you could date somebody who would it be? >> ---

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? >> Well, yeah.

What is one good thing you're known for? >> ---

How about one bad thing? >> ---

Are you taller than most? >> Most children, yeah. LOL

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? >> Hmm... oh, I sang along to a Journey song while I was in the shower.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? >> I like to be home.

What time do you normally go to bed? >> Between 10p and 12a.

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? >> My neck is still kind of sore, probably from sleeping wrong the other night or something. It’s getting better, but I also keep accidentally twinging it.

What did you do today? >> Read some of the book I’m on, watched a few episodes of Avenue 5, played some Torchlight 2, browsed tumblr, browsed Reddit. Not in that order.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? >> No.

What was the last thing that you drank? >> A shandy.

Is anything annoying you now? >> No.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? >> How would I know, unless they told me (and in my experience people generally do not tell)?

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? >> Eh. Not really. Like, it sucks and I hate that the trauma from those interactions is still haunting me and affecting my current relationships, but it is what it is.

Do you realize it when you curse? >> I mean, more or less.

When was the last time you showered? >> This morning.

Who did you last talk to in person? >> Sparrow.

Do you ever have days where you just don't do anything? >> No. Even when I’m deeply depressed I will move my hands to put on Netflix (and then click “yes” when it periodically asks if I’m still watching), lol. That’s something.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? >> Yeah.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? >> ---

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? >> Maybe.

What's the longest amount of time you've been stuck in traffic? >> ---

Best field trip experience? >> ---

Have you ever been to New York City? >> I used to live there.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be? >> What’s it cracked up to be, exactly? People say a lot of things about NYC, not all of it positive. It also depends on, you know... your socioeconomic standing. Wealthy folks’ NYC is a completely different place from poor folks’ or homeless folks’ NYC, despite being on the same patch of land...

What is the most amount of money you've spent on a meal before? >> I have no idea.

What museums have you visited, if any? >> In NYC: MOMA, Museum of Natural History; in Philadelphia: Franklin Institute; in Chicago: Museum of Science & Industry, Adler Planetarium (it’s also an astronomy museum); in Michigan: Grand Rapids Art Museum, Grand Rapids Public Museum. Those are just the ones I remember, mind you. Might have been to a couple of others and just forgotten about them.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? >> Maybe when I was in school, idk.

What's your worst traveling experience? >> Probably every time I had to take a Greyhound from Colorado to NYC (or vice versa).

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? >> I’ve never played the first one. I like the vast amount of custom content resources for 2, the innovation of 3, and the continued innovation of 4. Otherwise, they’re mostly the same to me except the graphics just get smoother over the years.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? >> Yes. Poorly, obviously, for me anyway.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? >> ---

Best muffin you've ever had? >> I don’t like muffins.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? >> Once.

If so, was it required? >> No, it was an elective.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? >> Hardly any. I just check it every few days or whatever, for messages mostly.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? >> I don’t know.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? >> I don’t care if people like the same music as I do, as long as they’re not rude about genres they don’t care for. I like talking about music with people, but it always ends up being this “this genre is better than that genre” or “this era is better than that era” circle jerk and that’s so fucking boring.

What is the strangest thing you've ever seen outside of your house? >> *shrug*

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? >> It can be a useful concept.

How often do you "half-ass" things (put little effort in)? >> Whenever I don’t have the energy to whole-ass something, but I don’t want to just not do anything at all.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? >> No. I feel annoyed when I have to eat around other people, because then I have to hear other people eating.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? >> Probably.

How reliable is your internet connection? >> It’s quite reliable.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? >> Yeah.

What's something that makes you incredibly nervous? >> I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.

What's the latest you've ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? >> ---

If you don't have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? >> It wouldn’t bother me too much. Unless my vision started failing really badly, because, you know... I like seeing.

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn't need them anymore? >> ---

How many vegetarians do you know? >> I’m not sure.

Have you ever considered going to art school? >> No.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? >> No.

How quickly can you write an essay? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? >> In high school, i was put on multiple psychotropic/anti-depressant drugs, none of which I actually needed, so they all had pretty adverse effects on me. Including making me fall asleep in class almost constantly.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? >> I usually was.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager? >> ---

Favorite episode of Spongebob? >> I don’t like that show.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? >> I don’t want to call any of my emotional connections silly or odd. Especially since I have a hard enough time making them in the first place -- I want to encourage and support those connections, not disparage them. :/

Are your parents supportive of you? >> I took this survey almost a decade ago, and my answer then was that he was supportive even if he didn’t always approve. I was really on some bullshit then, I guess... because that’s just not true. He only supported what he thought was appropriate for me to be involved in, and when I invariably wanted to do or be other things, he was dismissive and almost derisive. Being supported in my being and endeavours is not a common theme in my life and it starts with that motherfucker.

How often do you take the train to go places? >> I don’t take it much anymore; the last time I took it was to go to Chicago and back, as an experiment (Sparrow wanted to see if it was truly better than driving there and back). When I lived in the City, of course, I took a subway all the time. Really miss that.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? >> I guess I would, if I found myself in a situation I thought was awkward. I usually don’t.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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whumpiary · 5 years

Text

[update: this drabble used to be two posts but has since been edited to be one coherent piece!]

content warning: referenced past drugging, implied/discussed drug abuse, paranoid thoughts.

Cass is sitting in J’s bedroom, trying to sleep despite the daylight creeping in through the blinds. He’d been confused at first when Josiah had shepherded him in and peeled the sheets back from the bed. When he hadn’t moved to lie down Josiah had said that he needed to put the house back together and Cass needed sleep and that neither would happen if Cass was lying on the couch. Cass felt a pang of guilt through his fog and hadn’t argued. He’d done enough arguing today.

He’s not sure if he sleeps but he’s certainly awake when there’s a gentle knock on the door, followed by a man with long blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard letting himself him. Whatever Cass was expecting when Josiah said his friend was a doctor, this is not it.

“Hey there,” he says with an easy smile “Wasn’t sure you’d be awake”

Cass tenses, sitting up against the headboard and trying to look less vulnerable, less weak. He hates doctors. Hates them even more when they’re so casual. Trying to act like your friend. They weren’t friends.

“I take it you’re Mal,” he grunts.

“I take it your Cassius”

“Cass”

“Cass. Right,” Mal corrects. He’s got a relaxed grip on eye contact, holding Cass’ gaze a few seconds longer than should’ve been comfortable. There’s something vaguely familiar about the way this man hold his gaze and it settles in Cass’ gut with a rocking sort of unease. Despite himself, Cass looks away.

Mal sets his bag down on the desk with a thud. It’s one of those old leather ones that border on the line between outdated and cool depending on who’s carrying it. Cass rolls his eyes. Wanker.

“How’re you feeling, Cass?”

“What, what do you think?” Cass spits. The other man doesn’t miss a beat.

“I literally do not know, mate. I met you about thirty seconds ago.”

Mal sits down on the chair by the desk, a careful distance from Cass, and begins rolling up the sleeves of his henley, revealing a litany of old-school tattoos that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Sailor Jerry’s bottle.

“What?” Mal asks, smiling at Cass’ obvious stare. “Did Josiah fail to mention my rugged good looks?”

J had, in fact, failed to mention his doctor-friend’s rugged good looks. He’d failed to mention anything at all about Mal, actually. Cass had half expected a half-dead, half-deaf 67 year old racist who’d scribble a prescription for Valium without looking at him and head off again. Instead he was staring at a 30-something Adonis who looked like he oughta be on the cover of an alternative home-goods magazine selling kombucha.

“You just don’t, don’t really look like a, like a doctor.”

Mal nods like he’s used to that assesment.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m technically a nurse.”

Cass coughs a laugh, “It, it, it does, actually.”

“Thought it might,” he says, smile dancing back on his face “Now. Josiah said you took something?”

Any amount of warming Cass had been feeling toward Mal turned ice cold in an instant.

“I didn’t take shit.”

Mal shrugs, “Alright, well did someone else give you something?”

Cass’ head jerks up and he squints at Mal, trying to figure out the trick.

“You believe, believe me?“

"Well are you lying?”

“No.”

“Then I believe you,” Mal says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He puts on a pair of blue-rimmed glasses, smiles like this is the only thing he’d prefer to do right now.

Cass stares at him. Right. Definitely not what he was expecting.

“So. If you didn’t take anything, did someone else give you something? Josiah, maybe?”

Cass’ heart falters and his eyes flit to the door. This is a trick. A trap. They’re tricking him into saying something against J so he can be thrown out or hurt or- he takes a deep breath and stops that particular train of thought. It was stupid. It was Josi- J - for God’s sake. And Cass’d named him, anyway, made him tell the truth. He knew J hadn’t given him anything.

He looks back at Mal, suspicious all over again. Why would he plant a thought like that?

“Wouldn’t he… wouldn’t he have told, told you if he gave me something?”

“Well, see, Josiah knows I’m not a huge fan of roofies, so I doubt it,” Mal says, rolling the desk chair closer. “Alright if I take your blood pressure?”

Cass nods blankly and shoves the sleeve of his shirt up to his shoulder, offers his arm.

“Do you, you, you think he gave me something?” he asks.

“Seems a little out of character but you’re the one that knows what’s going on here, so I figured I’d ask,” Mal straps the blood pressure cuff around Cass’ upper arm “This might be a little uncomfortable, but it’ll just be a minute.”

They’re silent for a moment as Mal pumps air into the tourniquet. He’s right, it is uncomfortable. Maybe not in the way that Mal thinks. The cuff tightens slowly with each pump, cutting the blood circulation in a way that feels far too much like a rough hand gripping too tight. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace?

Cass takes a deep breath, tries to remind himself where he is, who he’s with. “Is Mal short for, short for something?“

“Unfortunately, yes,” says Mal and smiles as he makes quick eye contact. “Malory.”

Hipster with a medical degree. ‘Course his name is Malory.

The cuff constricts a little more and so does Cass’ chest. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace? Deep breath.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs.

“It is when you’re middle name is Valerie.”

Cass snorts a laugh. He doesn’t care if it’s true or not. The distraction is welcome.

The fact Mal’s not actually touching him helps. The tattoos even more so.

Classic American sailor tattoos, thick dark outlines coloured with red and yellow, a little blue. Sparrows, an anchor, a swashbuckling lady, a dagger, a heart. Then the less conventional ones. An astronaut, a small cat, an umbrella, a tea cup. Cass’ eyes catch on a trio of roses on Mal’s left arm, warped slightly. Or rather, the skin is. Bubbled scar tissue sits uneven under the ink, spreading neatly along his inner arm, starting at the wrist, stopping before the crease of the elbow. You’d barely notice it if you weren’t this close. Cass leans a little closer.

“You admiring the artwork or the scar?” Mal asks in an even tone, his attention on the blood pressure gage. Cass pulls back away, quickly, cheeks burning hot with the shame of being caught staring.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s a good scar,” he says removing the cuff. Cass flexes his fingers as blood rushes back into them in a hot flush. Mal rolls his chair back to dig something else out of the bag. “It’s from when they cut me open to hardwire in this here biometric, fully automated, life-like mechanical hand”

Mal flexes his fingers, as if to show off the dexterity of each digit. Cass stares. Mal’s face splits in a stupid grin.

“I’m kidding,” he assures quickly “Hand’s real. It’s the foot that’s fake” And he knocks on his shin, the full thud of hollow plastic helping pitch the punchline.

Cass frowns, looks back down at the bed sheets. He feels like an idiot for nearly falling for it. But he’s tired and he doesn’t feel right and wasn’t this asshole meant to be helping? Not just fucking around? He feels even more like an idiot because everything Mal does makes him feel small and young and stupid. Like some kid, doe-eyed and staring, about to be tricked by Dad jokes and an easy smile.

“That’s a stupid, a stupid joke,” Cass mumbles. Like a fucking kid. God. There’s something about Mal that Cass can’t place, can’t pick and it keeps sending him off-kilter. Something familiar-but-not that he doesn’t want to think about.

“Yeah I know. Bad habit,” Mal is picking something else out of the bag now. “He holds up a stethoscope. “Give your chest a listen?”

“Do I have to take, take my shirt off?”

“Yeah,” Mal says with a deep sigh, apology etched into his face. “Unfortunately, while medical science has advanced far enough for me to hear through several inches of muscle, blood, and bone, we have not yet cracked the ability to also hear through a thin stretch of cotton, so…”

He gestures with his hand. There’s a beat. Cass remains thoroughly unimpressed. Mal sighs again, with another smile.

"Yeah I know, stupid joke. Leave your shirt on. I’ll get you to lean forward though, if you can”

Cass obliges silently. He fucking hates this guy, he decides. He hates the jokes and the hair and the tattoos and the one fucking foot. The painfully ‘not your average doctor’ vibe of him.

Complete wanker.

“I know, know what you’re doing,” he spits after a few moments of quiet. The other man hums an acknowledgement, moving the stethoscope to his back “With the, the, the jokes and the stories. Tryna be friend- be friendly. Just tryna get me, get me more comfortable so I’ll tell, I’ll tell you shit”

Mal sits back, taking the stethoscope from out of his ears. He’s got an impassive sort of look on his face that’s kind of annoying. “Is it working?”

“No. You’re not my, not my friend.”

“I’m not trying to be, mate, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on,” Mal holds his gaze as he says it. Piercing and ice blue, Cass is overcome with a feeling that he’s being looked into, gently inspected. That he doesn’t need to tell Mal anything. He already knows.

There’s a fear that grips Cass for a moment. J wouldn’t send a reader in without telling him, right? His eyes flit to the warped skin on Mal’s wrist. Hiding a mark?

Then the moments gone. Snapped in two like glass as Mal breaks his gaze to throw the stethoscope back in the bag.

“The stammer normal for you?” he asks, suddenly.

Cass blinks. “The what?”

“The stammer. You keep repeating, keep repeating yourself every few, every few words, like this, like this,” Mal demonstrates. The not-a-mechanical hand turns in the rhythm of his voice, like a conductor keeping time for an orchestra “That how you usually talk or is it new?”

Cass frowns, tries to think about how he’s been talking.

“Uhh… new, it’s new I guess,” he says. Mal hums low, produces a small pen light.

“Follow this with your eyes,” he says “What about the tremor? That new too?”

The flip between conversation and consultation is dizzying, but Cass does his best to oblige. There’s a faint feeling of nervous dread creeping over him. Something’s wrong.

“Um, it… It happens when I’m, when I’m, when I’m tired. Or when I’m stressed, stressed I guess. Been pretty norm, pretty normal for a while,” he says. He’s overly aware of the tripping of his tongue, now, embarrassment and frustration eating at him with every word he snags on.

“Push through’d do it too, I guess?” Mal asks, pocketing the light again.

Cass stares at him, gaping a little.

“You know, push through?” Mal tries again “When you’re spent but you keep using your-”

“I know what, know what push through means,” Cass snaps.

The other man puts his hands up in a hasty surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it, mate.”

“I’m not your mate.”

Cass knows exactly what push through means. If he spent too much time in someone’s head, if he named too many people one after the other, he’d start to feel the tug of it. Tingling in the hands and feet, faint ache in the chest or the head. But a blood rush, your heart pulsing with something other than blood. Like you could do anything.

So then you’d push through, keep going. Full splitting headache, churning stomach, dizziness, aching joints. But your brain felt electric, so much bigger and faster and you could see so much more than anyone else. So many connections and vibrations.

So you push through, go a bit further, just a little more. Breathlessness, slamming heart, bones like glass, thoughts like fog. And it’s burning now, a little, but the spark is still just in reach. So you push through.

Just a little further, knowing you’ll get it back if you just keep reaching. Memory loss, delirium, pain like your body was going to kill you. Or floating, unhooked, free.

Cass knew what fucking push through was. Intimately. The question was how the fuck did Mal?

"Josiah didn’t give me anything,” Cass says suddenly. It feels like a confession. Mal doesn’t say anything. “There was... The... The, the, the people I was, people I was staying with. I think they, they… I think…”

“Do you know what it was they gave you?” Mal asks gently. He does everything so fucking gently. Cass squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head.

“I don’t even, even know for sure that they, they, they did,” he admits. His voice isn’t shaking. It’s not. “I’d just… wake up and I would feel, would feel wrong. Like I’d gone on a bend, a bender or something”

“Like a hangover?”

“More like withdrawal. Then push through on top.”

“Is that why you took the oxy? It felt like withdrawal?”

“It wasn’t an oxy, just a-” Cass stops abruptly, biting down on his tongue. Idiot. “I thought you said you believed me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t take anything.”

Mal’s eyes glint. This isn’t right. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace?

Cass can feel his breath ducking shallow in his chest and he hastens to control it, shove it down, stave off the black spots that are suddenly flickering in his vision.

This isn’t right. He leans forward where he sits, gripping the edge of the sheet. He barely has anything in him but he needs to get this guy away because something isn’t right, none of this is right.

He barely has enough in him but he has enough: “Mᴀʟᴏʀʏ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ”

But Mal doesn’t flinch, doesn’t change his face, doesn’t move to go. He just tilts his head slowly, looks Cass in the eye. His voice is so gentle when he speaks.

“That one’s not gonna work on me, mate.”

Cass feels his heart miss a beat, like skipping a step on the stairs, foot sliding through free fall. He thinks about bolting, but Mal is blocking the door. He thinks about trying to name him again but he has nothing left, he was nothing left and it doesn’t matter because it didn’t fucking work.

“I knew, knew it. I fuck, fucking knew it,” he spits. He tries to lean forward, but the dizziness hits him too fast and he sits back “You’re a reader, aren’t, aren’t, aren’t you?”

Mal laughs softly like the accusation is surprising.

“No, not quite,” he says, quietly.

“Well what are, what are you, then?”

“I’m honestly just a nurse, mate,” Mal leans back in his chair, pushing that long mane back with one hand “And, unfortunately for you, Josiah’s friend.”

He almost looks sad. Cass isn’t fucking falling for it.

“I don’t believe you.”

Mal shrugs, taking his glasses off, “You don’t have to.”

There’s a long moment between them, quiet and still. It’s so silent that Cass can feel the air around them pulsing. Maybe that’s why the yell from the other room is so loud. Something like a crash. More yelling. An argument, a fight. Mal, who has been seemingly unphased the entire time Cass has been talking to him, suddenly seems very, very phased.

Someone is here. Someone has J.

Cass is moving before he has time to register the pain that swoops in at the rush in his head.

“Who’s, who’s here? What’s happening?”

Mal tries to stand in front of him but Cass is already pushing passed. He can barely feel the juttering of his legs. Mal grabs for his arm-

“Everything’s fine, it’s jus-”

Cass doesn’t notice way his heart is suddenly not beating but fluttering, surging, buzzing. He shoves Mal backwards, reaching for the door.

“Everything’s not fine, fuckhead. Who, who did you bring here? What, what what have you done to Josiah?”

Cass doesn’t notice that his lungs are straining to grab oxygen, straining to do anything other than squeeze mercilessly.

“Nothing, mate. Cass, you need to-”

Cass doesn’t notice the blood rush in his ears, drowning out Mal’s words.

He opens the bedroom door, prepared to see anything; prepared to see a bloodbath, prepared to see a gun to Josiah’s head, to see an armed fucking militia. Prepared to see them. The them he’s running from, the them he should know better than to have run towards, the them who could find him and drag him back, and drag Josiah along too if they wanted to.

But that’s not what he sees.

He sees Josiah, standing with his back to the hallway, completely fine. Angry, sure, but when wasn’t Josiah angry? His voice is still echoing sharp across the room but his body language is open and loose. He almost looks relaxed. Comfortable in a way Cass hasn’t seen him since coming back. He’s fine.

And then he sees her. Small and leather-clad and familiar and furious.

Oh.

Cass feels the fear fall off him like a cloak, which maybe was stupid considering who he’s looking at. He wishes he hadn’t opened the damn door.

Lou.

“I assume you’ve met my wife?” Mal says from behind him.

Right. Fuck.

And then.

And then Cass realises someone’s squeezed all the breath from his chest, and that his legs are shaking so hard they shouldn’t be holding him up and that his heart has somehow turned into a wasp’s nest, and that his brain is a brick of dynamite about to explode.

Cass looks at the woman in front of him, looks at Josiah, looks at Mal.

Lou. Here. Right.

Fuck.

And then he faints.

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chrysalispen · 5 years

Text

vii. sleep mothered them, and left the twilight sad;

AO3 Link

In the midst of the short journey back to the surgery, Cheerful Sparrow was the first to break the silence between them, and he did not do so until the tent and its endless lines came back into view.

"I hope," he said very quietly, "that you'll not hold Bryn's words against her."

"You see it in this profession often enough," Aurelia replied in a thin, dead voice. "Circumstances being what they are, no doubt I make an easier target for her anger."

"Aye, but that don't excuse her castin' aspersions and such. I'll talk to her about it." He hesitated. "Doubt anyone'll be askin' after your feelings, though. I'm sorry, truly. I can see you and Captain L'sazha were close once upon a time. He never was one for talkin' much about his life before he came down here."

"We were children together. I can't- I wouldn't know how he truly felt. There were," Aurelia faltered, "I can only speak for myself. But his presence brightened the life of a very lonely little girl, and-" She heard the crack in her own voice and stopped, tried to breathe through it, to keep her grief from spilling forth unchecked until she was certain the urge to cry had passed. "Sazha was my best friend. We'd planned to- ...we meant to leave the Empire and go adventuring toge- to-"

And then she couldn't stop it anymore. The words were choked out by a strangled sob, her chest hitching in a short gasp, and the tears came hot and close. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't have stopped it if she tried. To his credit, Sparrow didn't say anything, just stood still and let her cry.

"What happened to him- it's all my fault. He'd made a new life for himself, and I was part of the force that came down here and kicked it all apart like a godsdamned anthill-"

"Last I checked, your name was not Solus zos Galvus, unless we're mistaken about a hells of a lot more than we thought." She offered him the barest ghost of a smile, a small and tremulous thing, and he continued, "You can't hold yourself to task for your Emperor's actions."

"No, but I can hold myself to account for my own."

"Aye, that's as it may be, but- listen, it's commendable t'want to change yourself for the better. Just have a care you don't take the whole bleedin' world's troubles on your shoulders. There's a difference between atonement and bein' a martyr, like."

"Every single person in this camp right now has lost family and friends, if not their homes." Aurelia swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Crying over my own losses is naught but selfishness."

He gave her a sad smile.

"Selfish? I wouldn't say so. Bryn may not have noticed - as y'can see, she has her own troubles just now - but seems t'me like the Empire's taken its share from you too." Unable to formulate a proper response, she stared down at her hands, picking at her sleeve with her fingertips. "You good to get back to Captain Brudevelle, or do you need a minute?"

"I'm... no. No, I've taken enough of your time."

"Only time I'd be spendin' asleep, have no fear. Let's get you back before she sounds the alarum -- an' maybe see if she can't scrounge up a pair o' crutches or summat in the bargain. No offense, lass, but you're heavier than you look."

~*~

The next handful of hours (bells, they called it here) proceeded in a blur of activity, for which she was grateful. The tasks she'd been set to complete were not so very unlike her duties within the infirmary in the VIIth Legion's camp, for all that she lacked many of the amenities that she realized now she had very much taken for granted.

When not on the battlefield Eorzeans relied on magical healing far less than she'd supposed, which was something of a surprise. It also meant that her own mundane skills were not half as useless as she'd worried they might be, though at this juncture she'd hardly put them to use. Léonie - Captain Brudevelle - had set her and a handful of able-bodied volunteers to overseeing the triage roster. She was currently spending what little spare time she had in stripping down the remaining bolts of homespun the Grand Companies' remaining medical teams had on hand to create bandages and dressings.

Aurelia set the heel of her splinted leg on a low stool (a milking stool that had been repurposed, she suspected) and kept a watchful eye open while she kept her hands busy. Most of those milling about were freelancers who had taken up arms beneath the banners of the Grand Companies. She heard myriad different accents among the chatter, most she assumed to be Eorzean, though her ears caught tongues she recognized from all three continents.

A couple of adventurers who passed by the triage lines on their way elsewhere caught her eye for a brief moment. Both Hyur in appearance, but fair and svelte and very tall, their brows carefully covered-- Aurelia knew her countrymen on sight, and she noted with something like amusement their own expressions of startled recognition when they sighted her; clearly they knew her too. Imperial defectors who'd made sellswords of themselves, no doubt.

Like Sazha. She couldn't help but wonder if he would ever have attempted to reach out to her again, had circumstance not dropped him back in her life--and thought to herself that the odds were against it.

It was a sort of bookend to their lives, she mused. They had met by blind chance, had grown up dogging each others' heels, and in the end had become little more than ships passing in the night, physical and emotional distance enforced by the strictures of the imperial caste system. He had had no reason to believe he would ever see her again and so he had made a life for himself here.

One that had been cut short by-

Aurelia let out a choked exhale at the sudden wave of pain that snapped through her head, just behind her eyes, and doubled over with a hand pressed to her temple.

"Not like that, Bryn," Sazha is saying. His voice is soft and ragged, the barest sound rising from a wasted chest and charred lips. The weeping woman at his side tries to glare at him and can't. Even in the throes of grief and jealousy, she can believe naught but the best and truest intentions from him. If he says that the Garlean is nothing more to him than an old friend, he means it.

He sighs, one of his bandaged hands resting on her forearm and patting, the movement slow and clumsy as he tries to offer what bare amount of comfort he can. Bryngeim wants to rage at him out of jealous hurt. Throw his hand aside. Storm out of the tent and confront the woman. She does none of those things.

"Childhood friend or not, she has no call to be so blasted familiar with you. If she cared so much she'd have defected long ago."

"She had a duty. And family. Not easy to defect." His reply, mumbled as it is, halts her angry rant in its tracks. "Empire makes it hard. The more you have, more you have to lose."

"Sazha..."

"Don't blame her." His unburnt eye falls shut. "She's here now."

Bryngeim bows her head, feeling a vague sense of shame. That much is true; the Garlean woman is here now. It is also true -- much to her own chagrin -- that her beloved at one point knew the prisoner extremely well, well enough to be much more than passing fond of her. And he is insisting she help the woman once he has passed. It feels like salt rubbed in a raw wound, though she knows he doesn't intend it that way.

"Bryn," he mumbles. His eye has still not opened. "Don't forget. Talk to the brass. Keep her off the gibbet."

"...I know, I know. You always were too sentimental by half." A great sigh erupts from the woman's lips and as she responds, she tastes the salt of her own tears. "Fine, all right. I'll give her that box like you asked *and* I'll try to get leave to speak with Admiral Bloefhiswyn on her behalf. I don't much rate the chances of her listening to my like, but I'll try."

"Oi! Watch out-"

She'd nearly fallen off the stool.

A soft chorus of concerned murmurs had arisen from the small group of wounded nearby, and Aurelia stared at them all with blank and uncomprehending eyes, her head still pounding with the vestiges of that ache. She winced as she saw she'd upended the box of cloth bolts. It was Sparrow who had caught her as she was about to fall in the mud. He was carrying a large and familiar-looking bag slung over one shoulder.

"Saw you hunched over grabbin' at your head, like, and then you nigh keeled over. Should I fetch Léonie and let her know you need to lie down? You look ill."

Aurelia heard the question but it didn't register right away that he was talking to her; she was still puzzling over the vivid scene she'd just witnessed. Slowly she reached for the box, checked its contents, and was relieved to note that most of them were still intact. Fine job it would have been if she'd soiled all of the supplies they had left over a fainting spell. "I- no. I'm fine. I just..."

What in the seven hells was that?

She'd seen Sazha and Captain Ahrmbraena talking--through, it seemed, the Captain's own eyes. No, not just her eyes; her own memory. Had it been a hallucination for lack of sleep? Some sort of extremely lucid daydream? It had felt so real Aurelia could almost feel the roughness of the homespun cloth that had been used to make Sazha's dressings. And she'd felt every thought and emotion of the Captain's as surely as if they'd been her own.

Well, there had to be some reasonable explanation, surely, Aurelia thought. It wasn't as though she could read minds, or project herself into the woman's body; the very idea beggared belief. Likely just a passing fancy, or she'd been dreaming. She was starting to feel every ilm of her exhaustion.

"Lass-"

"I'm fine," she interrupted somewhat absently, shaking her head and wincing at the fresh stab of pain the movement sent through her. "Mayhap a bit tired. What're you doing here? I thought you would have sought your bed."

"I did, but one of the lads found something on their run that I thought might be of use to you."

With a grunt, he unshouldered the heavy bag he was carrying and set it in front of her. The fabric was covered in mud and singed in places, but the damage appeared to be superficial. She gasped, recognizing immediately the scarlet triple-link insignia of the imperial standard, stitched as it was into the canvas.

"You found a field kit!"

"So this is what you were telling us about, then? Good."

Aurelia's hands quivered with excitement and relief as she unsealed the top and flipped the bag open. Syringes, fresh dressings, spare reagents and alchemics, a set of sterile tools for use in an operating theater (or on the field itself in a dire emergency)-- they were all here. Granted, it wasn't enough to actually use on more than a few of these poor folk, but arguably more important than the potions were the tools themselves.

"You... didn't have to go out of your way for me like this," she said unsteadily.

The silver-haired marauder shrugged, hazel eyes not quite meeting the wide sea of blue. "Well, might be as I heard you mention such a kit a brace o'times afore Cap'n Léonie set you to work."

"Sparrow, that was hours ago-"

"-and might be as I had mates in some other search units about to start makin' their rounds. One of them served some time with the imperial army in the Estersands 'bout five summers past afore he came to Eorzea, so he said he'd keep an eye out."

Before she could stop herself, Aurelia had thrown her arms about the man's neck mid-explanation and bestowed upon him the fiercest embrace she'd granted anyone since she was a child. She could feel him stiffen in surprise beneath her, but after a moment- somewhat awkwardly- he patted her on the back.

"Here now," he coughed, his deep voice a touch gruff with his embarrassment, "no need t'make a fuss. If you say one o'these would be useful, that means it helps our lot too. Just help as many folk as you can manage, an' that'll be us square."

"I'll not forget this," Aurelia said, still smiling, and meant it. He had been unfailingly kind to her when he had no reason whatsoever to take her part. It seemed that she had at least one other person in her corner, and that made her feel an immeasurable sense of relief. "I promise you that. Tell your friend he has my most sincere thanks."

"Aye, I'll pass it a-"

"I told you lot I don't need any swiving help!" a voice roared, the shout echoing from nigh the back of the line.

Both of them turned to look in that direction and bore witness to the sight of two men in Maelstrom colors, a Hyur and an Elezen, dragging a decidedly recalcitrant-looking third in officer's dress towards the front of the line. The Roegadyn was cradling his left arm and his face was deathly pale except for a couple of spots of hectic color on his cheeks, indicating a fever.

He was clearly also in a very high temper and he towered over his fellows as he blustered all over the camp, which made their ability to drag him forward despite his attempts at resistance all the more remarkable.

The Elezen caught her eye and waved.

"Miss!" he called. "Miss, we need a healer. I know there's others ahead of us but I'm beggin' ye, please. He's ill and gettin' worse by the minute. Taken fever, an' he's weak as a-"

"Shut your bleedin' hole," the Roegadyn snarled at him. "I'll show you weak."

"Sir," the other man said, expression pained, "with all due respect, if you would just-"

"Bugger off, both of you! There's naught wrong with my arm." The man yanked his limb out of their reach, swearing as he did so. He wore a brown band about his good wrist, meaning someone had marked him as lower priority for treatment. Aurelia surmised it was one of the others, as she didn't recognize the man. "Just needs one of those conjurers to wave their fingers a touch."

Inwardly, Aurelia sighed. This man promised to be a difficult patient if his behavior now was any indication. She was tired, grieving, and her hips and leg were still a dull background ache. Her composure had already slipped its leash once; she wasn't entirely sure she could rein it in a second time.

Still, she turned her attention towards the trio with a polite smile.

"Well then," she said aloud, keeping her tone as even and mild as she could manage, "I see you've had at least a cursory examination. Let's come in out of the wet and have a closer look."

Those rheumy eyes tracked over her form - including her partially exposed third eye, though she knew it was difficult to see it in the dark. He scoffed, loudly, making his disdain evident.

"I'll take no directions from your like, Garlean. Aye, I know what you are. There's rumors all down the line about the imperial prisoner working the triage lines. Stick to your busywork and let the healers do what they're good at."

"...Are you done? You can come in if you like, or should you prefer to stand out here in the damp and cold and continue to be miserable while rousing the entire camp with your bluster, then I suppose that too is your choice." Annoyance at his coarse demeanor had made her response sound rather more waspish than she'd intended, but Aurelia couldn't be bothered to moderate her tone.

"And who in blazes do you think you are, to be taking that tone with me," he sneered, "the Emperor? Think I'm one of your pet savages to order about at will, is that it?"

With some effort, she took a deep breath and held her tongue. She had no idea who this man was, but the medals he wore on his jacket indicated a fairly high rank and it probably wouldn't be wise to antagonize him unnecessarily.

"Sparrow, would you mind taking these dressings and the kit inside? And the stool so I'll have a place to sit? I can take matters from there." She reached for the makeshift walking aids she'd been lent and carefully maneuvered herself to stand on her good leg. "You two, please bring your friend inside."

Safely out of sight now, Aurelia winced as she made her slow and careful way towards the surgery. Her hips, still sore and extremely disinclined to bear her weight after her recent injury, screamed in silent protest. Under normal circumstances there was absolutely no way she'd be up and about like this; she really should be keeping her weight off both feet for about a sennight. As it was, she had to force herself to work through the pain.

Just like the rest of them, she couldn't afford the time spent in a sickbed. And bellicose as this man was, a patient was a patient and none of them had the luxury in a crisis situation to choose who was and wasn't deserving of treatment.

Steeling herself, she nudged aside the oilcloth flap and entered the relative dry warmth of the surgery. The partition was drawn; she could hear voices speaking quietly on the other side of the cloth. Otherwise it was quiet save the soft tick of an aetheric chronometer on one of the nearby shelves.

"Where's the healer, Garlean?" was the first thing out of the man's mouth.

"You're speaking to her," she said. Sparrow had set the field kit within easy reach for her to remove the steel tools within and a roll of fresh linen, so she did just that, looking over the assorted bottles and their contents within and refusing to give the irritating man a second glance. "I'll need you to have a seat on the table so I can examine the wound, please."

There was no response, so she looked away from her tools to repeat herself in time for the man to cast an imperious glare at her down the length of his aquiline nose.

"The request was for a healer," he snapped, "not an imperial wench with the manners of a harpy. I'm not near enough of a fool to trust your like to pull an ingrown toenail from your enemy, never mind-"

Aurelia's temper snapped like an overtaxed thread.

Her palms slammed down onto the surface of the table hard enough to crack the brittle wood and set the nearby potion bottles to jittering in place on its surface, making them all jump. She rounded on the man with unbridled fury in her dark blue eyes, a vicious rage burning in their depths, and his sneer faltered before the heat of her anger.

"My best friend, who fought the Empire beneath your banner," she hissed, "is dying. He is dying slowly and painfully, and with the limited resources on hand there is little that can be done to ease his suffering as he passes. Would that your places had been exchanged, but they were not, and it is your life I must needs safeguard and not the one I hold dear."

"How dare y-" he began, but Aurelia was not finished.

"As regards mine heritage, you should count yourself extremely fortunate that I am first and foremost a chirurgeon. I am charged with the preservation of life, regardless of the worth I would personally find in it. Rest assured, you have naught to fear from me save my words--which hardly cut so deep a wound that your pride shall not recover anon. Now," she bit out, "kindly place your arse on the sodding table, and keep your mouth shut unless you are addressed. You can do that much, can't you?"

The man had gone slack-jawed with incredulous astonishment-- but he didn't attempt further argument. Shivering, looking visibly ill now that he was no longer shouting at everyone in close quarters to obey his orders, the man seated himself on the edge of the table.

"Move aside," she told his companions, voice still flat and cold with anger. They all but scrambled to clear a path as she reached for the dress jacket slung loosely over his shoulders and shoved it aside. The foul smell hit her nose almost immediately, though she didn't react, only peeled back the dirty bandage that had been slapped over his forearm in all haste some time ago. "How long has your arm been like this?"

"S... since yesterday evening...?" At her mulish expression he sputtered, "Don't give me that look! 'Tis just a scratch."

"Aye, one you've let fester long enough it's like to cost you the limb."

"Like hells it is! This is why I wanted to see someone with magic, so they'd just heal it and I'd be about my way!"

"Conjury can only do so much," she said. "Magic isn't a panacea; even I know that."

"You imperials have taken aught else of value," he snarled at her. "I'll die before I let you take my godsdamned arm in the bargain."

There it was, she realized. The fear and distrust he'd hidden beneath his belligerence--not of her specifically, or even her people, but of medical practitioners in general.

Her own helpless anger subsided beneath a small sense of pity. She suspected that - ironically enough - he had put off having his hurts addressed simply because he was too frightened to deal with a chirurgeon, and ashamed of his fear. He was far from the first patient she'd received who worried her first answer to his problem would be a bone saw, and he'd hardly be the last.

She put her hands under his arm, bracing them at the wrist and the elbow so as not to touch any part of the wound itself. The man flinched and hissed at even her slightest touch; pus had leaked into his filthy dressing from the opening of the wound, and she could see a small piece of metal lodged just under the skin. Angry red streaks lanced down his swelling limb nearly to the elbow where her index and middle fingers touched.

When Aurelia spoke again, she kept her voice perhaps a bit calmer and gentler than before.

"First things first, there's shrapnel that needs removed. It's the most likely culprit-- and then I'll need to clean and suture it and change out your dressing. I think I have some things on hand I can use to keep the infection contained. Although at this point, I can't promise that any of these measures will forego the need for amputation. Captain Brudevelle is currently working with other patients; once she is available, I shall consult with her. For the time being, that is the best I can offer."

"I told you, I am not-"

"I am very sorry that you mislike matters as they stand," she said quietly, "but your anger changes nothing. Shouting at your wound will not cleanse nor heal it. Nor will shouting at me. Hopefully it shan't come to surgery, but if it's your arm or your life, then we shall take the arm that you might survive the infection. I would not even suggest it if it were not a possibility."

He blanched even paler beneath his fever-stained cheeks, but nodded and slumped forward in a clear show of defeat. His gaze didn't meet hers. He had lost what little fight remained in him.

Aurelia turned to his two underlings.

"Now," she said, "if one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to assist me, I shall need the basin atop that sideboard filled with water and brought to me, please. Quickly."

#reborn by fire #aurelia laskaris #chapter 7: sleep mothered them #wol origin story

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hiddlywiddly81 · 6 years

Text

Devoted

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Prompt: Just a really body positive and saucy fic that literally no one asked for. Just felt like writing it.

A/N: I read a piece of @ohhhmyloki ‘s work a while back, and was totally inspired. I liked the little bit of body positivity, and thought we could all use more. Also, I apologize if the POV is confusing. It’s kind of second person omniscient (I know, author speak). I wanted something that still felt personal (second person, then), but allowed you to get in Loki’s head too. This fic is also THE. LONGEST. I’m done blabbering. Enjoy!

Warnings: lots of my lovely almost smut, mention of self harm, and a heck ton of self-doubt and body insecurity

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m going to go hop in the shower,” you said, popping up from your spot on the bed. Loki only looked up from his book to watch you sauntering over to your bathroom door. It took every ounce of self control not to have you right then and there. He adored the way your shorts sat on your thighs, and how he could see your curves though you wore an oversized sweater. Having a nice shower seemed the perfect oppurtunity to get you naked.

He smirked that deliciously devious smirk of his.

“May I join you?”

Your cheeks flushed. Your head spun. This was partially from the hungry look he gave you- the way he watched you like a starved cat watching a sparrow. But it was also from sheer terror. You didn’t want him to see you unclothed.

It seemed trivial on the surface. You two had been naked in each other’s company many times. Except you had the comfort of the lights being off, and occasionally sheets covering you, hiding you from curious eyes. Not to mention there was too much passion to particularly see straight or contemplate anything but the pleasure. The thought of being... exposed in front of him made you nauseous.

“Darling?” You realized you were just staring at him- wide-eyed and open-mouthed. You shook head and swallowed audibly.

“Just relax, sweetheart. I’ll only be a minute.” You prayed your sweet tone and loving smile were enough to keep Loki in his place. Well, it didn’t work.

He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist. Then he began purposefully nibbling your neck, where he knew it got you going. You held back a small moan and pushed him away before getting too caught up in the moment.

“Loki,” you tried more forcefully, “I don’t want to do this. I can’t.” Despite what many would think about him, he always respected your wishes. You knew he wouldn’t try to do anything you didn’t desire. It was one of the many reasons you loved him so dearly.

He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t angry. He was concerned. He could tell that there was something more going on than you simply not being in the mood.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

Are you ok? For as long as you remembered, that question made you break into tears. You could be unaffected one moment, and broken down the next. You wanted to be strong for him, but as soon as Loki said those words, you could feel the familiar sting of tears.

“Please, just tell me,” he prompted. Knowing there was no way to get out of this now, you let him lead you back to the bed. You both sat there for a few minutes- you avoiding his eyes, crying a bit more, and he taking your hands in his for comfort. Finally, you drew in a sharp breath. And you told him the truth.

“I don’t want you to see me naked.” As crual as it sounds, Loki fought the urge to laugh.

“My love, I believe we’re way past that.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You struggled to find the right words, and he was patient with you. “Yeah, we’ve slept together. But you haven’t really seen me. I’m...worried you’re not going to want me anymore when you do.”

Loki didn’t respond. The silence made the rush of emotion too intense, and gave you the opportunity to carry on.

“I’m not an Asgardian goddess. I’m not even that fantastic of a Midgardian.” The word tasted funny in your mouth. “Loki, you’re perfect. You’re gorgeous. You’re meant to be with some beautiful, skinny goddess of something or other. Not me. I’m fat, I’m not at all beautiful, I’m just... nothing.” He searched your eyes frantically.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t love you because of how you think you look?” You shrugged. He grabbed your shoulders, making your eyes snap to his. He looked the way he did when he talked about his mother, or how his father wronged him, or how Thanos tortured him. He looked devastated.

“Don’t ever say that again. Ever.” His voice shook slightly, startling you. You’d only known Loki to act in such away when he truly cared about something. In a way it was comforting. In another, it terrified you.

He took your cheeks into his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. You must have looked like a mess. You knew your makeup was all down your face, and snot was beginning to dribble out of your nose. But Loki looked at with you with such admiration, it made your heart hurt.

“I love you. And that means I love all of you. You said I deserve to be with someone perfect, and I am.”

In one fluid movement, his lips were on yours. Your hands instinctively curled into his onyx locks.

After many delicate, chaste kisses, Loki tested the roiling waters. He slipped his tongue between your lips with surprising deftness. The sensation of him gliding into your open mouth, filling it nicely, caused you to grip his hair with more ferocity. You wanted him, but fear still lurked in the back of your mind.

He took his time. He wanted you to feel his deep affection for you. He worried that if he took things too hastily and passionately as he was usually inclined to, it wouldn’t have the same meaning.

Without breaking contact with you, Loki lowered you down onto the bed. Eventually he straightened and positioned himself in between your shins. His hands glided gently beneath your sweater and he raised his brows, asking for permisson. You didn’t grant it right away. You fought with yourself for several moments. What if he changed his mind about you once you were naked beneath him? Would he regret saying such sweet things to you once he saw you? How could you stand the embarrassment?

“Are you sure?” you whispered.

“Absolutely,” he breathed.

Assisting Loki in shimmying off your sweater and shorts felt like diving from a cliff. And the cold, waiting air felt like the water slamming into you, and you into it. The finality of it felt like drowning.

You watched Loki as he drank in every detail of your flesh. Almost everything was on display for his hungry gaze (you were still in your undergarments). You were unsure what to do. You were a butterfly pinned to the corkboard, or rather, as you figured, an unsightly moth.

Loki, on the other hand, was amazed. And undeniably aroused. He had never seen a creature so beautiful. And it was his duty to worship you- to hopefully make you realize how gorgeous you were.

He started where he was, and nuzzled your smooth legs. You closed your eyes in delight. Perhaps this would be worth it. He slowly worked his way upward, nuzzling and caressing as he did so.

When he arrived at your thighs, almost all restraint was thrown to the wind. The softness of them, the appealing amount of flesh to grip while ravishing you made him salivate. He so desperately wished you could see yourself as he did. Instead he could only settle for demonstrating how utterly infatuated- how utterly devoted- he was to you.

You shivered as Loki’s cool tongue dipped into and ran the length of one of your stretchmarks. Self-doubt gripped at you once again. You hated that aspect of yourself. Though he seemed to be enjoying himself, you couldn’t help the feeling he may have found them unattractive.

“Loki,” you interrupted. Unable to quite verbalize your internal struggle, you allowed him into your mind. He only responded by shaking his head and continuing his ministrations.

Loki had to have had his tongue in every single one of the marks before going all in. He sunk his teeth into your inner thigh as if sinking his teeth into the flesh of a most succulent peach. He made a small noise of pleasure in the back of his throat. Your back arched, and a hand curled back into his tosseled hair.

He continued savoring your thighs for a long while until he decided to resume his upward journey. He peppered your stomach and sides in identical bites, all the while whispering “My Queen.” You could get used to this.

After what seemed like hours, Loki’s mouth reached yours- all teeth and tongue and aching devotion. You were done for. You wanted his chilly skin against yours. You wanted him in-

Still listening to your thoughts, Loki pulled away, nodded, and tugged his shirt over his head. You reached down and helped him with the button, then the zipper, of his trousers.

•

“How are you not exhausted?” You breathed. Loki had pleasured you to your limit, but he remained unaffected. A thin sheen of sweat covered his whole being. His cheeks had the tiniest tinge of pink. His eyes were still bright and his breathing even. And despite pleasuring you many times over, he still hadn’t met his own end. You were impressed, if not a little worried you weren’t pleasurable enough. You pushed the thought away, and threw and arm over your eyes.

Loki flopped down beside you, and propped himself on an elbow.

“I’m a god, remember?” You hummed in recognition. You chastised yourself for the previous thought, reminding yourself of his inhuman stamina.

Loki traced runic patterns- spells, probably- on your side. Goosebumps covered your flesh as he did so. You were utterly content for the moment. Loki had worshipped every inch of you, and you felt a certain credibility for his devotion.

“You know,” Loki broke into your thoughts, letting his lips brush over your arm as he spoke, “I have my own insecurities about my... appeal.” You chuckled and removed your arm from your face.

“Loki, come on. You could snap your fingers, and a thousand women would be ready to ride you into oblivion.” He didn’t find your comment amusing. Your face fell.

“You’re quite right, my darling. But only in this form.”

“This form?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t know?”

You turned on your side to meet him face to face.

“Know that you’re a frost giant?”

He shook his head, then shrugged.

“You know my heritage, but you don’t know... This isn’t... this isn’t my natural form. This,” he motioned to his body, “is all an illusion.”

The curiosity was killing you, but you didn’t want to frighten him. You eased into the question, prefacing it with a handful of kisses and nips at his neck. You slid on top of him and took a stab in the dark.

“Would you show me?”

“You’ll think I’m some sort of monster,” he responded. The hurt in his eyes was heart shattering. You tucked his hair behind his ear and smiled.

“Loki, I promise you. I could never think that.” He bit at the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Nothing terrified him more than this moment. And you wanted nothing but honesty between you.

After taking one deep breath, and fixing his gaze to the ceiling, his skin began to transform into a rather calming ocean blue. It spread slowly, with no deliberate path, like ink dropped into water. His eyes shifted from their usual brilliant blue to a deep red. Portions of his skin raised into simple, sweeping lines. You followed them with a finger, coming to his hands. Another set of raised lines resided on the inside of his wrist- horizontal, different from the rest.

“Oh, Loki,” you sighed. He turned away.

“See? A monster.” You took his face in your hands. Tears reflected in his eyes.

“I love you, ok? Nothing- nothing- could change that.” You leaned down and pressed a lengthy kiss against his freezing lips. He raised a brow and trailed his hands up your thighs. You giggled.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I haven’t got anything left.” In an instant, he was hovering over you, pinning you to the bed.

“We’ll see about that.”

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