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macbethsymphony · 3 months

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The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 20

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 4.5k

Chapter rating: NSFW-ish

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut, vague mentions of past abuse

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 20: Scars

Roronoa Zoro's patience was wearing thin. For days now, he had been locked in a relentless struggle, battling against the stubborn resistance of the black steel that had been entrusted to him. With a furrowed brow, he scrutinized the swirling patterns of the cursed blade in his hands, attempting to summon the same techniques you had demonstrated to him.

As his haki surged forth, seeking to assert its dominance over the rebellious metal, Zoro felt a twinge of irritation building within him. He had to remind himself—kindness, reassurance. But the steel seemed to mock his efforts, its resistance growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, the frustration evident in his voice. His haki faltered, its once steady advance now stalling in the face of the sword's defiance.

He was close, he could feel it.

He let the blade clatter to the deck, the metallic sound echoing loudly. Seating himself in front of it, he released an exasperated sigh, his annoyance palpable in the morning air. Running a hand through his unruly hair, he couldn't help but glance towards the door of the forge, subconsciously searching for your form.

Shiawase had been so much like you—stubborn, abrasive, though with a certain resilience that was hard to ignore. But this sword was different. It exuded a strange mixture of longing and fear, almost as if it yearned to be wielded yet recoiled at any hint of command.

You’d told him it was an echo of who you’d been. It made him wonder what happened to you to change so much.

His fingers wrapped against the silk of the handle, his haki extending in as slow an advance he could muster.

Kindness.

The term resounded in his mind like a distant memory, a notion he struggled to grasp. He had always been more familiar with the language of steel and battle, where actions spoke louder than words.

Reassurance.

Even worse than kindness, it seemed foreign to him, a concept reserved for those who understood the nuances of empathy and compassion.

He saw you move in the periphery of his vision. His head snapped towards you instinctively, drawn by the unmistakable storm of your haki swirling in the air like an electric charge.

The sight of you, wreathed in the crackling lightning of your power, was mesmerizing to him. He couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it, a spectacle that never failed to captivate his attention. It was a force of nature, raw and untamed, a technique that eluded his grasp despite his best efforts to understand it.

As your hammer echoed loudly against the blackened steel of the dagger that consumed your psyche, Zoro's gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and frustration flickering in his mind.

His eye traced the contours of your form, hovering on the gentle curves that drew his attention like a magnet. His fingers twitched involuntarily, all thoughts of Uragiri fading into insignificance.

The memory of your touch flooded his mind, igniting a fire inside him that he struggled to contain. The sensation of soft flesh yielding beneath the inquisitive exploration of his hands danced at the edge of his consciousness, a vivid recollection that stirred something primal deep within his being.

His eye drifted to the delicate expanse of your nape, where a few stray curls peeked out from under the linen cloth, clinging to the perspiration-dampened skin beneath. The sight ignited a whirlwind of memories within him, each flashback vibrant and intoxicating.

He recalled the taste of you, a heady blend of alcohol and desire that lingered on his tongue long after you had parted. The souvenir of your compliance, your willingness to yield to his every command, the sound of your soft moans as his fingers had tangled roughly in your hair. It sent a shiver down his spine, a scorching heat of lust.

He groaned.

Fuck.

He pried his gaze away, struggled to come back to reality. His eye traced the sharp edge of Uragiri.

Kind. Reassuring. He could do that.

Your brows furrowed. You were close. Oh, so very close to destroying that dagger. You’d taken a note from the swordsman’s approach. Fuck subtlety, you could overpower it to the point of destruction.

You allowed your haki to roar as forcefully as it could. The power felt intoxicating, on the verge of swallowing your mind. You hadn’t let out this much haki since you’d forged Yokubari, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of giving away your own life force. But, in this moment, you didn’t care.

You watched with keen eyes as your hammer clanged on the cursed blade. Black filaments scaled away slowly, revealing the vulnerability beneath the surface.

Good.

It was starting to break down.

With each strike, exhaustion threatened your muscles. You’d been at this for days now, the toil of the endeavor was beginning to take a toll on you. Yet, you continued to rain blow upon blow on the steel, determination to set it free unwavering.

With a loud clang, the blade broke.

It wasn’t entirely unbound of its torment yet, but it still brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed at the small broken piece with heavy tongs, throwing it in the burning coals in a practiced movement. Your eyes widened as you watched the steel melt.

A thunderous ‘yes’ escaped your lips in victory as you observed the black tendrils of haki dissipate in the hungry flames.

A triumphant grin spread on your features as you reveled in the moment of success. A surge of adrenaline passed through your veins, deceptively washing away the tiredness in your limbs. With renewed vigor you went back to your work, ready to be done with the ordeal once and for all.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the deck of the Thousand Sunny into darkness, when you finished melting the dagger. You wished you weren’t so tired, wished the exhaustion in your muscles would dissipate for a moment, wished you could revel on your accomplishment with more fervor. The gentle sway of the ship and the sound of the waves against its hull provided a soothing rhythm as you made your way to the bathing area with a satisfied smile on your lips. With each step, you left a black cloud of dust on the floor. Nami would effectively throw you overboard if you tried to enter the women’s quarters this covered up in soot.

You walked in the small room in a daze, lazily turning the handle for hot water. With a tired sigh, you began to undress, folding your clothes neatly in the nearby cubbies. You snorted to yourself as you eyed the blackened fabric, wondering why you bothered. It was a habit you guessed.

The hazy glow of the lanterns cast soft shadows across the walls, creating an atmosphere of cozy intimacy as you sat on a wooden bench. You washed your hair, the water turning dark and murky as it descended down the drain. The warm stream cascaded your body getting clearer and clearer as you diligently scrubbed at your ash ladened skin. It didn’t matter how many layers of clothing you wore, the dirt always found a way to cling to the stickiness of sweat covered flesh.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps approaching nor the loud clang of swords in the changing area. Just as you stepped into the bubbly water of the bath, the door swung open, pulling you out of your reverie.

You tensed in surprise as you realized you weren't alone. Zoro paused in the doorway, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of shock before quickly averting his eye.

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was here," he muttered, his voice low and gruff, turning away to make his exit.

"It's fine," you replied, uncaring in your exhaustion. You let yourself sink deeper in the water, your lids closing heavily as you leaned back on the ceramic edge. The warmth felt heavenly on the soreness of your muscles. "If you don’t mind a little bit of ashes in the water, there’s plenty of space."

He stopped in his tracks as he considered your offer.

“If you don’t mind, then-“ he didn’t finish the sentence on his tongue as he sat down near the small shower head. You hummed in answer, too tired for anything concrete to cross your lips.

The silence enveloped you both in a comfortable embrace, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of scrubbing, a soothing backdrop to the moment. Through the veil of your lashes, you studied him quietly, the soft glow of the lights accentuated his features. Clad only in a towel, his back was turned to you, offering a glimpse of the strength and grace that lay beneath the surface. Your gaze traced the contours of his muscles, following the path of droplets as they cascaded down his skin in a mesmerizing dance.

You spotted his eye observing at you through the mirror on the wall. He snorted. You closed your eyes again, giving him privacy. You felt the water ripple around you and rise as he stepped in far from you, at the other side of the bath.

“You did it, didn’t you?” he let out a satisfied sigh once he was sitting down fully.

You looked at him with lidded eyes. You couldn’t help the proud smile forming on your lips as you answered. “I did.”

The water stilled, the only sound the distant crash of waves on the hull. “You figured it out too, didn’t you?” You allowed your hand to rise to the surface, fingers playing aimlessly with the bubbles, sending soft ripples.

“I did,” there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice at the admission.

You chuckled. “I knew you’d get it, you mastered Uragiri this morning, right? I was surprised when you didn’t come get Yokubari. I thought you were itching to get your hands on that troublemaker.”

“You looked busy,” he stated, body relaxing further in the warmth of the water.

A smile plastered itself on your lips. “I didn’t know you were so considerate,” you teased glancing at him through heavy lashes.

He huffed. You had half a mind to continue to taunt him but you were just so tired.

“So which of your babies am I going to be allowed to study next?” You couldn’t help but ask, your voice sluggish.

He hummed, considering. “Shusui,” he decided.

Your brows furrowed as your brain struggled to process what he’d just said.

“Shusui?!” You suddenly perked up, your impulsive reaction putting you at the edge of decency, the bubbles barely covering your nakedness. “Why not Wado Ichimonji?” All marks of tiredness left your body at the thought of the legendary Shusui in your hands.

Zoro's gaze flicked to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eye as he took in your instantaneous burst of enthusiasm. "Wado Ichimonji is special," he explained, his tone was slightly strained as he spoke his next words. "It belonged to Kuina."

Kuina… that wasn’t a name you’d ever heard. You didn’t press in your curiosity, the way he’d said it had been filled with sorrow. It shouldn’t surprise you, you guessed, everyone had ghosts from their past.

You inched closer, threading the edge of the bath. The water rippled at your slow movement. You settled in front of him, bringing your knees to your chest so you didn’t touch.

“Say,” you mused, the sound echoing softly against the walls. “How did you even come by Shusui?”

Zoro's eye met yours, his gaze lingering on your face. The space between you seemed to shrink under the weight of his stare. You shifted, he looked away.

"Shusui... It's a long story," he replied after a while.

There was a sparkle in your eyes as you wondered what the tale behind the legendary sword was. "I have time.”

Zoro's attention returned to you, the hint of amusement resurfacing at your enthusiasm.

"Shusui found me," he answered cryptically, his voice carrying memories. "It really is a long story."

You gave his foot a small kick under the water. "I told you, I've got time," you insisted with a touch of petulance.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before backtracking to meet yours.

"It was when we fought Gecko Moria," he entertained your interest, his tone almost nostalgic.

Your eyes widened in awe as he recounted the adventure. You leaned back, letting your feet tangle with his as he spoke.

"Ryuma..." you whispered when he stopped, the name rolling off your tongue like a sacred chant.

Zoro nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I fought against his zombie, and in the end, I claimed Shusui as my own."

The image of Zoro facing off against a legendary swordsman was strangely alluring in your mind. Your eyes traced his features, traveled down his neck. The bubbles were starting to fade, the scar on his torso slightly visible. You saw his muscles twitch, flex a little, an indication that you’d been caught in your observations, yet you couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

Your attention flickered back to his face, taking in the smug smirk on his lips.

“You’re staring, witch,” he remarked, the gravel in his voice more present than usual.

“Just curious about the scars,” you tried to justify as you fought the heat in your cheeks. “Look,” you started playfully, letting one of your legs rise to the surface. “We even have a matching one,” you gestured at the scar slightly above your ankle.

His eye traced along your skin before observing the white line that spanned the circumference of your leg. You suddenly felt self-conscious and with a quick movement you brought it back under the water. Before you could retreat fully, his hand grasped your ankle, settling your foot to his knee.

Your heart skipped a beat, the touch searing hot in the now tepid water.

“S-so, how’d you get yours?” You asked, giving a small tug, trying to pry your foot from his clutch unsuccessfully. “I’m afraid my story isn’t so interesting.”

The swordsman’s hold on your ankle tightened slightly, his eye lingering on the scar through the thin curtain of bubbles remaining before he met your gaze. “How’d you get it?” He ignored your question.

“I told you it wasn’t interesting, swordsman,” you furrowed your brows, frustration coloring your voice at the memories.

His grip softened, fingers tracing the white line on your flesh in almost delicate circles.

You hesitated. “I tried to cut off my leg,” you admitted reluctantly. Your face scrunched up in a bitter expression, you bit at the fragile skin of your inner lips in an anxious pattern. “Happy? Swordsman?”

His eyebrow quirked at the stiffness of your tone. He leaned back, his eye not leaving yours, his fingers not stopping their mindless exploration.

The silence dragged on.

“It was when I was forging Yokubari,” you confessed when it started to feel uncomfortable. “My mentor wasn’t kind to say the least. He was strict before I made him Uragiri, but when he turned mad under its influence, he began finding pleasure in other people’s pain,” your hand trembled at the memories, you closed your fist in an attempt to rein the torment inside, to calm yourself. “He got scared at some point that I’d disappear. My sister and I had tried to escape but he always found a way to drag us back. So, he decided to chain me to the anvil,” there was a silence before you continued. “You know, not all swords take the same amount of work. Some take a day, others take months to make. Yokubari took about a year of labor. I’d been forging for weeks, pouring my life force into steel when I got desperate enough to try and cut off my own leg.”

He listened to your words, you couldn’t make out any shift in his expression, his features not betraying his thoughts. But his touch on your scar was gentle, almost soothing.

“I see,” he said, when you stopped talking. There was no pity in his voice, you were grateful to him for that.

“I was too much of a coward to follow through though, it turns out that trying to cut your leg off is both harder than it seems and far more painful than you’d expect,” you added with levity, attempting to lighten the mood. “See? Pretty boring, right? So, how’d you get yours?”

He ignored you again.

“Hey,” you snapped. “I told you the story behind mine, now you tell me yours, swordsman. It can’t be that bad.”

He smirked.

“Maybe another day, witch,” he answered with a hint of evasion.

You narrowed your eyes, curious at the mystery he was clearly hoping to preserve. “Fine, swordsman,” you conceded with a pout as you realized he wasn’t going to budge. “But I won’t let this go until you’ve told me.”

Zoro chuckled at your expression, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his stare. “Stubborn as ever,” he remarked, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re not the most obstinate idiot on this ship, moss head,” you retorted, adding the nickname in an imitation of the cook. You flicked water in his direction.

He snorted. Mischief passed in his gaze at your action. His grip tightened on your ankle. Your eyes widened. You barely had the time to take a breath as you realized what he was about to do.

He pulled you under. You bubbled for a moment before coming back up for a big gulp of air. You pried your foot out of his hand in an angry motion.

“Oi,” you yelled at him, swiping the curtains of wet hair out from your eyes as you inched closer to him. “What was that for, you bastard?” You said, your index hitting him in the chest forcefully as though to make your point.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping the painful poking. “That mouth of yours is infuriating, witch,” he drew you nearer, his voice low and intense. “Always thinking you can get away with anything."

His hand went to your face in an almost gentle movement. His thumb swiped at your lips in a fleeting touch. You glared at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the building heat in your veins.

He tugged softly at your wrist, closing the distance ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise, your other hand settling on his chest for support. He pressed a little stronger on your lips in a familiar movement.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his words made something stir in your stomach. All resolve you had held crumbling in the face of the searing warmth that ignited within you.

You opened your mouth, granting him access. Your tongue met the rough pad of his thumb. You felt the rumble in his chest under your fingertips more than you heard it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the pupil of his eye blowing up.

His hand snaked from your lips to the back of your neck. He leaned in, his lips finding yours tentatively at first, then with the hunger of a starving man.

He growled low in his throat, a primal sound that made you moan as you crashed into him, the bare skin of your chest melting into his. The water sloshed loudly, escaping the bath, and puddling on the floor as he switched your positions, trapping you underneath him.

The world around you spun, disoriented by the waves of desire coursing through your veins. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. Your hands tightened on the muscles of his arms in an attempt to orient yourself before they traveled up to the back of his neck and tangled in the dampness of his hair.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding, almost forceful. Your nails dug in, leaving tiny red marks on his nape. He moaned into your mouth, the sound muffled. You smirked against his lips at his reaction.

His fingers gripped your locks as he backed away. Your lidded eyes met his hungry gaze. He tightened his hold pulling your head back, your back arched against the ceramic edge of the bath. Your hands fell from his hair, fingertips digging for purchase in his chest for support. You felt his hand trail your outer thigh, under your knee, opening your leg. You whined as you sensed his knee slot itself between your thighs, so close to your core, yet so far.

His touch was featherlight as his fingers shifted back up your leg, fleeting as he traveled your abdomen, almost imperceptible as the rough pad of his thumb traced the curve of your breast.

“Look at you, witch,” he whispered as he leaned forward, his breath hot against yours, satisfaction dripping out of his words.

A low moan crossed your lips, barely noticeable, even in the closeness of your bodies.

A small knock reverberated from the door, Nami’s voice cutting through.

You both halted.

“Oi, (Y/n)” the voice echoed against the walls. “You’re not asleep in there again, are you?” She asked.

Your heart stopped, the grip in your hair loosened, you slumped back slowly in the water without the intense hold he’d had on you.

“I-I’m awake!” You shouted, panicky.

The swordsman snorted, your eyes widened, your hand going to cover his mouth. ‘Don’t you dare’ you mouthed at him, gaze wild.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” You shouted again. “I just need to finish cleaning out the ashes around here.”

The handle of the door rattled. Your breath stopped.

“Hey, I told you not to lock the door when you’re bathing alone!” Nami admonished, her words muffled. “It’s dangerous if you fall down or something.”

“Sorry! I must have done it without thinking!” You apologized.

Your eyes met the swordsman’s, brows furrowing in confusion. “You locked the door?” You hissed in a quiet whisper.

You felt his grin widen against your fingers, you hit his chest hard. Zoro’s chuckles vibrated against your palm as he leaned back slightly.

Your attention went back to the door when you heard Nami’s sigh.

“Fine!” She relented, the handle clicking back in place. “Just don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be right out,” you reassured her.

You stayed frozen as you listened to the navigator’s retreating steps.

“You locked the door?” You asked again, incredulity in your voice.

His hand left your hair, lingering for a moment on your nape before going to the hand covering his mouth.

“I might have,” he admitted with a smirk, his lips brushing against your fingers with each word.

You tried to pry your hand from his grip, he didn’t relent.

“Get off me, you idiot,” you snapped at him.

He let go, leaning back against the edge of the bath, amusement in his gaze.

“I’m getting out, close that eye of yours,” you announced.

“Why?” He cocked his head. “You’re acting like you weren’t just writhing under me.”

“I wasn’t writhing, don’t flatter yourself so much,” you argued back. “Just close that eye of yours while I fetch my fucking towel.”

“What’s the point? The water’s been clear for the past half hour, it’s nothing I haven’t already seen,” still he closed his eye, expression lulling back in relaxation.

You felt your cheeks heat at the comment. With an exasperated huff, you quickly scrambled out of the bath. Your eyes met his half-lidded one in the mirror as you grabbed the towel.

“Seriously?” You muttered, shaking your head as you wrapped yourself in the fuzzy fabric. Your movements were fast and practiced as you tried your best to ignore the lingering warmth of his gaze. “You’re impossible.”

You watched his reflection as he lazily shifted around, reaching for the hot water handle. The sound of water cascading into the bath punctuated the silence between you.

“Bring me Shusui tomorrow,” you demanded, turning to face him. “You can take Yokubari while you’re at it too.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “That’s not our deal.” He stated after much consideration.

“It isn’t,” you agreed. “But I have a condition I’d like to add for Yokubari, it’s only fair that you get it sooner.”

“What is it?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You started to make your way towards the door, snatching your dirty clothes quickly. “You’ll see,” you said. “Try not to fall asleep and drown in there.”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, the night having offered no respite from the memory of his touch and the intensity of his lips. Leaning forward, your elbows found refuge on the worn wooden table as you took a bite of a croissant, the flaky pastry acting as a brief distraction from your restless thoughts.

"Hey, swordsman," you called out, swallowing before continuing. "So, what's the story behind those scars around your legs?" You tried your luck again, your question drew the attention of the scattered crew, their curiosity piqued.

Nami couldn't contain her amusement, a loud snort escaping her lips, while Zoro's expression darkened into a scowl.

"What's so funny?" you asked innocently, the prospect of uncovering the tale now even more intriguing.

"It's none of your business, witch" Zoro replied tersely, his tone clipped.

A shiver went down your spine, the nickname feeling different after the happenings of the night before.

Nami was not to be deterred by the swordsman’s warning, a mischievous glint dancing in her gaze as she took back your attention and launched into a saga of events.

Tears of laughter pricked at your eyes as Nami recounted the embarrassing incident, and once your mirth subsided, you couldn't resist teasing Zoro further.

"So, you were just embarrassed, swordsman?" you snorted, unable to contain your amusement.

Zoro's scowl deepened, a faint pink hue tinting his ears as he grumbled, "Like I said, it's none of your business."

Your chuckling bubbled up once more, the images in your imagination vivid thanks to the navigator’s amazing retelling of the story. "But seriously," you continued, teasingly, "what were you planning to do after cutting your legs? You can't exactly fight like that."

The table erupted into laughter, the camaraderie between the crew members palpable as they shared in the light-hearted moment.

Zoro turned his head, clearly embarrassed through the cracking mask of indifference he usually wore.

“Oh!” Chopper exclaimed, hopping onto Zoro’s shoulder as he looked at the back of his neck. Red marks plagued his nape in lines and crescents. “Did you hurt yourself, Zoro?” the reindeer asked innocently, a small hoof probing at the scrapes.

The swordsman’s gaze met yours, a brazen smirk gracing his lips. You felt heat rising in your cheeks. “Must have scratched myself by accident,” he answered, his voice smug.

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Masterlist

#the swordsman and the blacksmith #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #charlou writes

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cressthebest · 5 months

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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 13

chapter 24:

1. sirius 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 james being codependent af

2. ooo reg you’re so close babes. think about that just a little more. he realizes he cares about how james treats him and feels about him. reg just almost gets it

3. “He thinks the arena makes everyone a bad person while they're here. The only exception to the rule is James. He's the only person who could drag himself through all of this filth and cruelty and still hold onto his shine.”

4. ☺️ this “without hesitation” line is gonna bite us in the ass, isn’t it?

5. they’re talking about what their life without tragedy would have looked like. and damn. i’m not okay. their life would have been so beautiful

6. “"In that life, I do," Regulus whispers. "I let you do whatever you want, and when you want to dance, we dance."”

i’m NASTY sobbing over this line. like, snot coming out of my nose sobbing

7. “Regulus said James was his first love, didn't he? James would give anything to be his last.” 😀😀😀 holy shit that hurts

8. that nightmare was VILE

9. god, reg was practically sobbing to hold james’ hand. why is the world cruel to them??

10. 😐 i am unamused. another fucking spider

11. “"Have a go at me. Don't thank me or anything. It's always you're so stupid, James; it's never you looked so sexy and heroic while saving everyone from the murderous spider, James."” PFFFFFTTTT

12. it hurts to read it, but i also have always known that if reg wasn’t called into the hunger games, james would have died for someone else. like he said, either peter or vanity

13. god, peter’s story line and character fucking hurts. his family was mathias, irene, vanity, james, and even reg. this hurts like hell

14. NOOO PETER!!!!!

15. THEY MADE IT!!! THEY SURVIVED! THE GAMES ARE OVER!! THANK GOD!!

16. 😀😧 the rule change is REVOKED??? IM ABOUT TO LOSE MY FUCKING SHIT!! IF I WAS IN THIS UNIVERSE, ID PERSONALLY BE THROWING HANDS WITH SLUGHORN!! I BET SIRIUS HAS TO BE PHYSICALLY RESTRAINED!!

17. “"You're hesitating, love," James says softly.”

SCREEEEEEEEEEECHH

18. “"Axus got me on their way into the water. At least it was your dagger, I suppose," James says with a weary chuckle, his throat bobbing on a harsh swallow. His mouth quirks up a bit at the corner, gentle and lovely. "Maybe this makes me insane, but if I'm honest, I wish it had been you."”

oh no, make no mistake james. this very much does make you insane

19. and james is compared to the fucking sun going down again. i- i’m not okay

20. i need therapy for my trust issues. i trusted my ex best freind who outed me. i trusted my old roommate who i recently found out had a notes app list of everything she didn’t like about me this year. and most importantly, i trusted zar. i trusted that this fic wouldn’t do this to me.

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #fanfic #jegulus #sunseeker #starchaser #crimson rivers

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sephirothsplaything · 2 months

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DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 14

A/N:Nooo Rhaella! Please don't project your obsessive/avoident attachment style onto Jace because you miss Aemond!!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen; the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond, Cregan,slight Jace, slight Addam,original character.

Read the last chapter here!

"I should have been there," Jacaerys grumbled.

Rhaella looked up to the starry skies in silence. She was still reeling from her brush with death. How the weight of her dagger felt lighter when she found the resolve to kill again.

It was quite perplexing. The thought almost made her smile.

Jace had found himself outside to where Rhaella had stashed herself away. She did not particularly mind his presence, so long as he kept quiet. But here he was, ranting away.

"Are you listening?" Jace asked. Rhaella nodded. Jacaerys was angry, rightfully so. But more than anything he wished to act, to fly his dragon and turn their enemies to ash.

"It was a bold scheme, I admit," Rhaella says finally. Jace rolled his eyes in response.

"Such stupidity could only come from Aegon, I'm sure." He said.

"Criston Cole had a likely role." Rhaella comments. It was not so long ago that he had blocked her from leaving Alicent's company. There was so much hatred in his eyes.

"If my mother only allowed me to be of use." Jace ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Rhaella scoffed. Was he truly this short-sighted?

"You lack experience, your dragon is young," Rhaella states bluntly. Jace turned fully to face her. His cousin was an enigma, for sure. He could not comprehend how she was content with watching and waiting.

"You could claim a dragon or even an egg," Jace said.

"I am trying,it is not so easy." Rhaella snapped. He couldn't understand, his dragon was born to him. Rhaella was shown no such favor.

Recognizing he had struck a nerve in her, Jace drew back instantly, eyes softening.

"I meant no harm by it," Jace reassured. Rhaella shrugged his words off, it meaning little and less.

"I am not your betrothed, you need not consider my feelings," Rhaella scoffed.

Jace parted his lips to speak, but Rhaella's icy voice cut him off once more. She felt compelled to continue.

"You wish for vengeance, it is unbecoming of you," Rhaella said.

Jace observed Rhaella's state. It was as if she hadn't been attacked merely hours ago. Her serene demeanor was nearly terrifying. Like she had since made up her mind about something.

"Was Luke not worthy of vengeance?" Jace asked. Rhaella's steely purple eyes hardened. She misliked when her words were misconstrued.

"War is sweet to those who have never fought," Rhaella said. The words were for Jace as well as herself. A poor attempt to calm her own bloodlust.

"My mother holds back, it unravels us all," Jace countered. Rhaella shook her head.

"She is strategic in her wait, you are too blind to see it."

The two cousins were quiet for a moment. The warm Dragonstone breeze passed over both of them.

"Aemond will not stop, and neither shall I," Jace concluded. Rhaella tensed at the sound of his name. Hard as she might try, Aemond's letter was still occupying space underneath her pillow.

"Alright then, promise me this," Rhaella said. "You are the heir to the throne, and my sister will be your queen."

Jace's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He could not follow.

"Take all your spite and sorrow, give it to me so that you may think clearly," Rhaella said.

"I would not dare place that burden on you cousin," Jace said.

"I can take it, you cannot." Rhaella resolved. Jace's anger would cloud his logic, and if Rhaella were to instill her plans inside of him, she could not have his foolishness getting in her way. His claim was much too important.

"Agreed, but I ask something from you in return."

Rhaella's eyebrow raised. She was unsure if she was in any mood to entertain this.

"Let us help each other keep our wits about us, I know you long to act as well," Jace said.

So he had been paying attention. All the subtle twitches in Rhaella's mostly melancholic face. Twitches of rage and passes of darkness. Jace had indeed seen it all.

Rhaella was not so alone as she thought.

"Fine," Rhaella said, almost in a whisper. She resigned, hoping he would not disappoint her.

Jace stood up, stretching out. He offered his hand to Rhaella.

"The hour has grown late, shall I walk you to your chamber?"

………………..

THE MORROW CAME. Astris had scrubbed Rhaella raw and brushed out her curls into oblivion.

"You could be more gentle," Rhaella muttered. She watched Astris dart back and forth gathering her clothes for the day.

"Mayhaps, but now you look more like a lady!" Astris retorted. Holding out a towel, Rhaella wrapped it around herself.

"I never thought much of my looks." Rhaella sat on a stool as Astris began to work through her hair. Her mother would tell her that she was pretty, but Rhaella figured she was more or less obligated to do so.

Astris formed Rhaella's silver curls into a braided style more elaborate than she was used to. The braids tapered off into thick curls that fell to her waist.

"I could not know why, you have quite a lusty figure," Astris commented cheekily. It made Rhaella's cheeks grow warm.

"If you are finished with your jests, I would like my gown," Rhaella said.

Astris helped Rhaella slip into her gown, it was a fine thing indeed. A red and black dress with a form-fitting corset with long sleeves that flowed down.

"What did you and the prince discuss last night?" Astris asked, adjusting the corset.

"I simply advised him to not be a fool," Rhaella responded. Astris giggled, leaning into her.

"And here I thought it would be something of note."

Rhaella turned to face her, purely unamused. "Today you are full of jokes, I see."

Astris shrugged, a small smirk on her face. "I had nearly forgotten what your preferred taste in men is."

She was relentless today, likely bored. Rhaella dismissed Astris from her chamber, turning back to look at her reflection. She felt like a pretender.

When Rhaella entered Rhaena's room, she found that Baela was already there.

"Sudden change in wardrobe?"Baela said. Rhaella made herself comfortable on Rhaena's couch.

"Astris insisted, overwhelmingly so," Rhaella said. Rhaena's eyes sparkled at the sight of her sister, despite her own sullen face.

"What is it?" Rhaella asked. Rhaena sighed, her hands restless with one other.

"Her grace is shipping me off to the Vale with Joffery, Viserys, and Aegon," Rhaena said.

"Perhaps it is for the best," Baela said, holding Rhaena's hand. She scoffed in response.

"Yes away from everything else, I shall play the nursemaid," Rhaena said bitterly.

"You'll have our father to thank for that," Rhaella said. Since his mistake..as he called it occurred, The queen rightfully feared that the greens may take action against her youngest.

"I hate him, sometimes," Baela admitted, reluctantly. For Rhaella, it was a common feeling she held since she was a girl. Despite her loathing, she found herself missing her father.

She would not dare voice the thought.

"The queen trusts you with them the most, she knew better than to send me," Rhaella said. Joffery seemed to prefer Rhaena to herself whilst Aegon and Viserys were always occupied by a maid.

"She keeps you and Baela because of the dragons," Rhaena said.

Baela sighed again. Rhaella knew the feeling all too well. A Targaryen without a dragon was like a knight without a sword.

"If it is of any commiseration, Aegarax still refuses me," Rhaella said.

"He is wild, give it time," Baela said. But in truth, time was little and less on their side. War was at their doorstep and Rhaella was annoyingly vulnerable.

"Right," Rhaella murmured to herself.

"The queen has asked me to keep watch over Kings Landing," Baela stated.

A poorly timed thing to say, Rhaena and Rhaella glanced at each other in agreement.

"Is that safe? So close to the city?" Rhaena asked.

"I shall stay high," Baela said confidently. Rhaella greatly doubted her sister would follow the queen's instructions so closely. And what if she fell upon one of the Greens dragons?

Her stomach turned at the thought.

"Moondancer is small, she will not be noticed so easily," Rhaella said instead.

Baela gave Rhaena a reassuring hug. Rhaella simply observed passively.

"Come to the council meeting with me Rhaena," Rhaella suggested. She had grown tired of not having Rhaena by her side.

The two girls ventured to the Stone drum, the center of Dragonstone. Baela headed to the dragon pits in preparation.

Each sister took their place by the table. Jace glanced at Rhaella, eyeing the dress she wore.

"Is that new?" Jace whispered. Rhaella turned her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Why?" Rhaella asked, a small smirk gracing her face. "Do you wish to trade clothes?"

Jace sighed in resignation before averting his attention back to the matter at hand.

"How fares Prince Daemon with our army?" Ser Alfred asks. The queen Rhaenyra seemed to physically coil at the question. She had grown weary at the mention of him, as had Rhaella.

"There has been no word, your grace." One of the maesters says. Rhaella glanced at Rhaena. Their father was practicing avoidance, as usual.

"Then we must send out all the dragons, overturn the Greens strongholds." Ser Alfred urges.

He was often quick to speak out of turn, forgetting his place. But Rhaella did not exactly disagree. Had it been up to her, she would have done away with the greens army ages ago.

If only Aegarax would let her, that was.

"If dragons begin fighting dragons we only invite our own destruction," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella's hand twitched at her side. 'All power demands sacrifice'

Ser Alfred chuckled bitterly in response. Jace's hand hovered atop his sword. Rhaella nudged him with the heel of her shoe. Slowly, he brought his hands back to either side of him.

"But your grace," Another lord spoke. "You have witnessed first hand how exposed you are."

Ser Alfred hummed in agreement. " Had Ser Erryk not arrived, you and the lady Rhaella would have been slain."

Quite the opposite, Rhaella had felt. Perhaps she would have sustained injuries, but she would have the two eyes of the invader clutched in the palm of her hand before the fact.

If only Ser Erryk had waited a while longer.

"Perhaps you should flee to somewhere safe, whilst we remain here." Lord Celtigar suggested.

"She shall do no such thing." Rhaella hurled out before she could control herself.

For watching the queen struggle amongst these idiots caused her patience to wain greatly. Why was she allowing such a thing, Rhaella could hardly understand.

"That would be treason, you are lucky you took it no further." Queen Rhaenyra said.

She stood up to leave abruptly, likely to her chambers. There was not much else for her to do.

"That concludes it, I suppose," Jace mutters out. Rhaella had grown bored of this routine.

"Come sister, let us ready your things." She said to Rhaena.

……….

RHAELLA WATCHED as Tyraxes and Stormcloud were ushered out in their crates. Rhaena held a look of nausea.

"It will be fine." Rhaella tried to assure her, although her flat tone was less than.

Baela walked up to them, embracing Rhaena.

"You have not left yet?" Rhaella asked.

Baela shot Rhaella a look. "And miss Rhaena leave? I think not."

Rhaena grasped the hands of Baela. Rhaella stood off, a small pang of bitterness stirred within her. If only she could allow herself to be so free with affections.

"Go safely, sister." Baela wished.

"I will be safe enough," Rhaena said sharply. Rhaella crossed her arms,opting to keep her gaze on the young dragons.

"I'm sure you will be well-liked in the Vale." Rhaella said.

Baela hummed in agreement. "You may find yourself glad to be out of harm's way," Baela said.

It was not so condescending, but Baela could not understand. Such was the privilege of one born to a dragon.

"Do not coddle me Baela," Rhaena said bitterly. Baela looked to Rhaella for help but found no such relief.

"You do coddle, often in fact," Rhaella said shrugging.

"But I meant no insult," Baela said sincerely. She turned her head to the dragon egg chamber. "And here, I think is some consolation."

The sisters joined Queen to Rhaenyra by them. There, presented were four eggs each of them varying in color.

"But should all come to ruin, you shall bear our hope for the future," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella stared at the eggs. In truth, she thought she had fed the last of Syrax's clutch to Aegarax.

'Ice and Fire' Rhaella felt a sharp pain in her head, causing her to hiss. She did not need to think too hard as to what had caused it.

"Are you alright?" Jace asked gently. Rhaella took a slight step back.

"Ice and fire." She muttered. Jace frowned, stricken with confusion. Rhaella had once again returned to her strangeness.

Baela and Rhaena hug once more, a final goodbye. It was unclear when they would see each other again.

Rhaena hugged Rhaella as well, pulling her from the daze she was in.

"I shall miss you," Rhaella said. Rhaena's eyes watered.

"Then grant me this one favor," Rhaena said. Rhaella looked to Rhaena expectantly.

"Burn the letter, should longing become your enemy."

But how could Rhaella tell her that it already had? She would hold it in her hand for hours at a time before she drifted off to sleep.

"As you wish," Rhaella said. A lie.

When Rhaena and their young step-siblings had left, Rhaella went back to the topic of the previous council.

The queen was in an impossible situation. It was agony to be left in the dark as to what the Greens were plotting.

Rhaella misliked not knowing things. A thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she could yet be useful to her grace—dragon or not.

"Your grace!" Rhaella sped up her pace to keep up with Rhaenyra. The queen turned to her. In all honesty, Rhaenyra was shocked that Rhaella was speaking to her. She had a thought that the girl fully resented her.

"Rhaella?" Queen Rhaenyra said. "Wha-."

"I wish to speak to you, it is urgent," Rhaella said hurridly

Rhaenyra led Rhaella into her chambers. Rhaella folded her hands in front of her, confident in her actions.

"You look quite pretty, might I say." Queen Rhaenyra commented. Rhaella tried to smile but it came out like a grimice.

"I have a proposition," Rhaella said. Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow.

"We are maintaining the blockade with my grandsire's fleets, are we not?" Rhaella asked.

Rhaenyra nodded. "It has been a great help."

Rhaella eyes down the multiple books on the side table, open to the pages of Queen Visenya.

"Visenya had a brilliant mind for warfare," Rhaella said. She did not shy away from the most bloodiest of affairs. It was admirable.

"I had hoped to draw inspiration possibly," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella herself preferred the black bride, Rhaena Targaryen.

"Use the hunger of the smallfolk as a weapon," Rhaella suggested. "The people of Kings Landing are surely starving."

"That would be too cruel." Rhaenyra shook her head. Frustrated, Rhaella shut the book with a thud.

"No, it would be war," Rhaella responded. How could the queen not see a golden opportunity right under her nose?

Rhaenyra looked at Rhaella for a moment. Such a soft face, she had. Words of viciousness leaving her mouth was quite jarring to witness.

"What would you then?" Rhaenyra resided. "If you were placed in my position."

'Surround the red keep with all of our dragons.' Was the first thought that crossed her mind.

"Infiltration, someone who could be overlooked," Rhaella said. "There is much risk with multiple spies, it is better to send a single formidable one."

"And who would you propose?"Rhaenyra asked.

"Astris, my own handmaid."Rhaella could not think of anyone better suited for the task.

"No." Queen Rhaenyra shot her offer.

"She is swift and meticulous," Rhaella argued. "Astris served the prince of Pentos before her servitude to me."

Rhaenyra considered this. She had never seen Rhaella so sure of anything.

"And you trust her, wholeheartedly?" Rhaenyra asked. Rhaella's eyes softened at the mere thought of her.

"It was she along with Mysaria who aided in my escape," Rhaella said.

"Help me see your plan then," Rhaenyra said. Eager, Rhaella sat down.

"Let Astris keep check on Aegon and the rest," Rhaella said. "She can report back anything that might be of use."

Rhaenyra hummed. "It is dangerous."

"I am confident she can handle it, Aegon is little challenge," Rhaella said. Her hand twitched by her gown. Her true worry lay with Aemond, Astris would need to avoid him.

"And if something was to happen?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I shall take full responsibility, and act accordingly," Rhaella assured.

Queen Rhaenyra stood, smiling softly at Rhaella. It warmed her to see Rhaella so expressive,as it was so unlike her.

"You have your mother's mind, I think," Rhaenyra said. Rhaella blinked, averting her gaze to the floor. She could not know how to reply

The queen Rhaenyra moved past the silence. "Ensure you prepare Astris properly, I shall make arrangements."

.............

The boat was made ready for Astris's departure at dusk. The time had come and Rhaella's anxieties ate away at her.

The two girls stood in the outer corridor. Rhaella was sending her closest friend off to the vipers, and to what end? Gratification? She could privately admit this was both reckless and selfish.

Astris seemed to sense her lady's unease. Gently, she grabbed Rhaella's shaky hand.

"I can handle myself well enough, you know that," Astris said. Rhaella knew it, as she knew very well what Astris could do.

"You could still be hurt," Rhaella said softly.

Astris smiled in response, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. "The Gods shall watch over me."

Rhaella scoffed. The Gods?

"I want you to make note of any green council member with influence," Rhaella said. In addition, she had entrusted Mysaria with maintaining communication. Rhaella wished to know every detail in the Red Keep, down to the gossip of maids. She was uniquely interested in Aemond's daily routine as well.

"Yes, my lady," Astris said. Rhaella's lips twitched into a smile.

"Be wary of Aegon, he is a cunt," Rhaella added.

Astris raised a dark brow. "I shall do my best."

The boat sails dropped, ready to venture into the waters.

"Will you be alright, my lady?" Astris glanced at Rhaella. The energy surrounding Rhaella had not subsided, it merely seemed to increase. It was all too apparent that the Targaryen's girl mind was beginning to fracture.

"We shall see," Rhaella said.

Astris began to leave with a small curtsy, but before she went any further, Rhaella pulled her in, placing a firm kiss on her lips.

"I need you to do whatever is necessary," Rhaella whispered to her. The Black haired girl looked at her with wide eyes. Astris understood her lady completely and would act accordingly.

Rhaella watched her leave, a feeling of emptiness swallowed her. She walked along the outer courts of Dragonstone, wondering if this was a fool's plan.

In the distance, the roars of a dragon could be heard. Aegarax's distinct calls shot right through her.

Maybe he was upset she had neglected to visit him with a dragon egg. It had been some time since Rhaella had seen him.

Rhaella's walk to the dragon mount seemed shorter this time around. Looking up to the caves, she began to climb. It was only when she had ventured halfway up did she she a tall figure above her.

She cursed, nearly losing her footing. What person would be daring enough to find themselves in a wild dragon's cave?

Rhaella was not too worried though, whoever was there would surely meet their end. The discontented roars of Aegarax only grew louder.

"Lykirī, Aegarax!" Rhaella tried but to no avail. She looked around for the intruder once more but found nothing that could irritate the dragon.

Whatever High Valyrian she spoke had almost no effect. Aegarax crawled out of the cave, on full display to Rhaella. His black scales reflected the moonbeams present.

"Skoros iksos ziry?" Rhaella said in a hush.'What is it?' Aegarax settled into a grumble, his head was restless.

Slowly, Rhaella reached out her hand to him. But she was met with an open-mouthed roar, causing her to jerk back immediately.

Taking cover, Aegarax took flight from the cave and into the skies. Away from her and with him he took the hopes of progress.

Perhaps it was one great jest. She had kidded herself into truly believing she had achieved something of significance.

Forever dragonless, a false Targaryen.

#house of the dragon #black oc #oc character #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #black reader #rhaena of pentos #aemond x reader #house targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd2

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myfavouritefoodismilkbread · 3 months

Text

Underworld Ties

Amidst the shadows of Seoul's underworld, Lee Know of Stray Kids Mafia finds himself entangled in a dangerous game of alliances and rivalries. When he crosses paths with a formidable adversary from the Kangs, tensions ignite, revealing a past fraught with unresolved tensions and undeniable attraction. As their worlds collide in a tumultuous dance of power and passion, they must navigate a treacherous path of loyalty, love, and betrayal.

Chapters:

Ch. 1: Blood Feud Ch. 2: Shadows of the Past Ch. 3: The Contract Ch. 4: Hostile Negotiations Ch. 5: Fractured Alliances Ch. 6: Veiled Threats Ch. 7: Dangerous Liaisons Ch. 8: Unlikely Allies Ch. 9: Undercover Ch. 10: Cloack and Dagger Ch. 11: Loyalty Tested Ch. 12: Betrayal Ch. 13: Heart of Darkness Ch. 14: Point of No Return Ch. 15: Revelations Ch. 16: Crossfire Ch. 17: Redemption Ch. 18: Breaking Point Ch. 19: Surrender Ch. 20: Epilogue - Beyond the Shadows

Warnings: enemies to lovers, Lee Know centric, smut at some point, angst, slow burn, violence, guns, (mafia world related stuff). I am not good at warnings sorry.

I'll update every Thursday. <3

#stray kids #skz #lee know #bang chan #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #skz felix #seungmin #jeongin #mafia au #skz x reader #skz smut #skz mafia

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nyrasbloodyclover · 1 year

Text

THE GREAT WAR

masterlist

[aemond targaryen x oc]

warnings: in almost every chapter there are— mentions of death/suicide, suicide attempts, gore, blood, mentions of rape/ rape, childbirth, abuse, torture, self destructive behavior

a/n: swifties! there are many MANY midnights references in this fic especially for the great war. i changed soooo many things to fit the plot, but the point of the dance is still there, dw.

1. the letter

2. the birth

3. the wedding

4. the greens

5. the allies

6. the wolf

7. the sun

8. the crypt

9. the dagger

10. the raven

11. the sleep

12. the drowned

13. the dragon

14. the night

15. the army

#hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd x reader #evan peters #aegon ii x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction

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ink-and-dagger · 2 years

Text

Featured banner art by @simply---words

The 'Drink With Me' Art Gallery🥃🎨

Displaying a collection of the world's finest fan art.

All works are split into five categories for easy browsing: Astrid, Silco, Astro Ship, General DWM, & Spicy, and are listed in chronological order of when they were posted.

If you've created any art for DWM that isn’t listed here then please let me know as it will have been my mistake!

All the links are to Tumblr posts unless specified. Please note I may update the list from time to time. Click the below link to head back to the main fic masterlist:

Drink With Me Main Masterlist 🥃

Finally, please don't forget to show these incredible artists some love by interacting with their work 💜

Astrid Art (Reader)

Blairs-Witch - Astrid

Leoxnin - Astrid wearing Silco's coat

Wood-white-writer - Astrid "I do not snore"

Grayhoodiesrule - Noir style Astrid

Foppish - Astrid

Designfailure56 - Astrid

Iseutz - Astrid

Foppishish - Astrid 'coward'

Coffee-oreo - Astrid WIP

Lizzthefrizzzz - Drunk Astrid doodle sheet

Lizzthefrizzzz - Astrid in the club blackout (Chapter 8)

Lemmielem - Astrid

Fenyafaraday - Astrid

LittleKittenAmy - Astrid (twitter link)

Coffee-oreo - Miku!Astrid

Artwithvivien - Astrid

Lizzthefrizzzz - Astrid in the warehouse (Chapter 17, tw; blood)

Sweet-candi - Astrid

Dad-dumpster - Astrid

Sleepietimegal - Catgirl!Astrid

Ink-and-dagger - Astrid

Designfailure56 - Soft bedroom Astrid with ring

Sleepietimegal - Astrid with Pokémon

Sleepietimegal - Astrid in low-back top

Vanhelsingsbigtoe - Astrid

Libbyrequiresescapism - Astrid in a suit

Silco Art

Whooshhhhhh - Silco's hip tattoos

Simply---Words - Silco's hip tattoos

Thesaltybuns - Silco fresh from the shower ft. hip tattoos

Pomegranatebat - Feral Silco (Chapter 14)

Lemmielem - Feral Silco (Chapter 14)

Aromansoul - Silco in office wreckage (Chapter 14)

Simply---words - Silco sleeping like an angel (Chapter 18)

Xeiling-skies - Smoking Silco with hip tattoos

Astro Ship Art (Silco x Astrid)

Soutzart - Astrid & Silco

Kofemate - Astrid & Silco smoking

Six-feet-sleep - Astrid fixing Silco's tie

U2dessertflower - Astrid & Silco dancing

Sleepietimegal - Astrid & howl!Silco

Thesaltybuns - Astrid in the rafters and Silco's 'wtf' face (Chapter 16)

Officially-grim - Astrid yanking Silco's tie (Chapter 15)

Lizzthefrizzzz - Drunk Astrid playing with Silco's hand (Chapter 9)

Grayhoodiesrule - Astrid & Silco tender moment (Chapter 13)

Shadowparcourt - Astrid & Silco sofa makeout (Chapter 11)

Jennithejester - 'Before lightning struck' (End of Chapter 13)

Simply---words - Silco & Astrid super serious and tense moment (Chapter 17)

Aviidus - Silco at Astrid's bedside (Chapter 17)

Aviidus - Soft Silco & Astrid asleep together (Chapter 18)

Simply---words - Astrid lovingly holding Silco's face (Chapter 18)

Grayhoodiesrule - Astrid & Silco asleep together (Chapter 17)

Kikiiswashere - Astrid doing Silco's hair

Libbyrequiresescapism - Astrid & Silco play wrestling (naked but fluffy)

Fluffydogboo13 - Astrid flirting her way out of chores

General Drink With Me Art

Whooshhhhhh - Chapter 9

Spirits-lament - Death AU

U2dessertflower - Astrid, Jasper & Max group photo

Indigo-Aspect - Slice of life at The Last Drop

Spirits-lament - Chapter 5 Riverside Conversation

Spirits-lament - Family photo (Astrid, Silco, Jinx)

Simply---words - Family photo (Astrid, Silco, Jinx) plus bonus surprise photo of Silco half-dressed

Sleepietimegal - Astrid & Jinx

Ace-of-zaun - Quote embroidery

Artssaholic - Group birthday pose

Fluffydogboo - Incorrect quotes comic (Ft. Astrid, Silco & Sevika)

Sleepietimegal - Bottle and rose (Chapter 18)

Lizzthefrizz - Beautiful Monster quote typography

Sygmarie4-w - Drink With Me Doodles

Silver-spoon-paper-plate - Astrid & Jinx

Fluffydogboo13 - Drink With Me Doodles 1 || Doodles 2

Fluffydogboo13 - Jasper & Astrid

Silcoitus - Fountain tradition

Spicy Art

The below art is NSFW - click with caution

Thesaltybuns - Silco & Astrid in the taproom (Chapter 12)

Lemonmancer - Silco & Astrid (twitter link)

Grayhoodiesrule - Astrid & Silco in the taproom (Virgin AU; Chapter 2)

Deny-the-issue - Silco & Astrid in ‘Shag Rug’ ficlet

#drink with me #dwm fanart #silco x astrid #astro #silco x oc #silco #astrid #arcane oc #jinx #jasper #max #masterlist #art masterlist

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skydoesthings · 1 year

Text

SCARIAN BALLET AU - CHAPTER 1

A/N: Hoooooly shit! It's finally done! Me and @desertduofan have been working hard on this amazing au created by @imhereforthecomics, and we actually managed to get it done by their birthday! (happy birthday :D) Anyway, you can also read it on AO3, my AMAZING co-writer will be posting it there, and now, on with the story!

-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-~*-

Aurora’s POV:

The Academy of Graceful Dancing. Where the most talented dancers graduated from, no matter the hybrid or gender of someone. Aurora stood in the front of the school, looking up at the sign that read "𝒜𝒸𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓂𝓎 ℴ𝒻 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓃𝓰". After a few silent seconds of staring at the sign, she took a deep breath and walked inside. This was just a normal day, like the rest.

She walked into the Grand Hall, the massive lobby belonging to this academy. Chandeliers hung precariously on the ceiling, swaying with the air conditioning. The red carpet running down the middle of the room, up the stairs made this look so unreal the first time anyone saw it. Some could mistake this as a ballroom. The students here could never. It’s actually quite a beautiful place.

With a start, she realized the time. Shoot, there were only two minutes left till class started! She had to stop admiring the entrance and hurry, if X sir catches her…let’s just say she’ll be in trouble. A lot of trouble. She sprinted across the hallways, and stopped halfway. She’s a vex! She can fly! What is she doing?!?!? She opened her wings and flew. She was a vex, so her wings were tattered, but with determination, stupidity and help from her brother’s friend Cub, she figured out how to fly. It was slow, but it was something. Anyway, she was getting distracted. Again. Seriously, she has got to stop doing that!

With thirty seconds to spare, she made it to class, and sat next to her best friend Ariana, who was checking how she looked in the mirror. Aurora rolled her eyes. Typical. But she couldn’t help but stop and marvel a little whenever she saw her. Ariana’s full name was Ariana Griande. She wouldn’t be surprised if you recognized her name. She was an international popstar, just at the age of 14! But she was never really on a high horse, instead was always laughing and joking with everyone else like she was a normal girl. Anyway, Aurora was getting distracted AGAIN! Ugh, it’s infuriating.

Ariana put away her mirror and finally noticed her. “Oh, Aurora, when did you show up? You were pretty late. If X sir caught you…” They both shivered, and then started giggling. Well, they were, until they heard a strict cough from above them. “Ahem…”

Both of them slowly looked up, and then they saw him. The green and purple antennae. The translucent purple bug wings. The sharp blue eyes, that held a kind of strictness, but also a paternal gaze, which were burning a hole into their souls. Yep. That was their strict father of a headmaster, Xisuma.

“And what was so funny that you had to disrupt the flow of roll call, young ladies?” X sir said, raising an eyebrow. Aurora gulped.

Ariana’s owl wings fluttered slightly, but then she put on the popstar smile, which is always fake but no one realizes. “Oh, nothing really sir! Aurora here…just told me a joke! Yep!” She lied, smiling brighter.

X sir’s eyebrow rose up even further. “And what was this ‘joke’, may I ask?” He questioned. Aurora gulped again.

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll tell you, won’t you Aurora?” She said, elbowing her. Aurora jumped, rubbed the side of her stomach, glared daggers at Ariana, thought hard about the funniest joke she knew, and said the first thing that popped into her head.

“Um…why did the cow cross the road?” She stammered out. “I don’t know, why?” X sir said. “To get to the udder side!” Aurora said, a little more confidently.

Silence.

You could hear the crickets chirping.

Then Ariana’s forced laughter rang through the silent room. “Oh, Aurora! That was hilarious! She’s a comedic genius, I tell you!” She said, pretending to wipe a tear of laughter from her eye.

X sir did not look amused, glaring at the two before sighing. "I'm letting you off with a warning." X sir stated before continuing the role call.

Ariana dramatically sighed with relief, quietly so they wouldn't get in trouble again. "We almost got our butts kicked out!" Ariana whispered. "You're telling me." Aurora said, staying quiet like Ariana. The rest of the role was called, not another word from anyone.

Everyone scattered off to their respective teacher. Aurora and Ariana had an instructor that went by the name of Grian. Grian, the person in question, was an average height male. He had light brown hair that complimented his black eyes. The freckles along his face fit perfectly in the picture, scattered like stars in the sky. Of course, he was the winged instructor, unmistakably brown owl wings. That was the whole reason he was their instructor!

Aurora knew this man as kind and chaotic. A good balance. Like how X sir was strict but parental. Although, another way Aurora knew him was as Ariana's cousin. But that didn't seem to stop Grian from treating her like the rest. Which was fair.

Once everyone had arrived and was encountered, they followed the leader to one of the dance rooms. Each instructor had their own room to decorate. Grian's was decorated with beautiful red birds and a bit of greenery to make the place pop. The instructor, whose name was Mumbo, decorated his room with bits and bobs he made himself. Mr.Dubs, he was a funny man, had a clock and a bit of little drawings that belonged to fantasy. So like castles and such. Ms. Pearl, she was a little different. While all their sirs were ballet teachers, she was the teacher for weapons dancing. Her room decor was a blueish-gray wallpaper with a bunch of little drawings of different weapons. Every single room was noise absorbent as well, so echo didn't exist in them, and you definitely couldn't hear anything outside. It was great for concentration, something Aurora lacked. Which is when Ariana interrupted her distracted state.

"I found this new make-up palette and it's so cool- Hey are you ignoring me?!" Ariana said as she poked at Aurora, who was on autopilot before.

"No- Sorry! Just thinking about a few things. What were you talking about?" Aurora apologized.

"Just this amazing make-up palette I was hoping to use next time I do a concert!" Ariana stated before rambling on. Something Aurora could deal with because her brother at home did the same.

Once they arrived in the room, everyone started their stretches. They had to stretch carefully, stretching out every muscle. Why couldn't this be a faster process? Aurora had sighed, stretching downwards. Everyone here was flexible, if you weren't there were classes you had to take first to become flexible. Being a ballerina was a very dangerous path. Ugh, was she seriously getting distracted again?!?

She finished her stretches as quickly as she could. Finishing around the same time Ariana did. "What do you think we're going to do today? Maybe Grian will let us do something cool this time!" Aurora said, hopeful.

"Doubtful, he'll probably just make us do more 'tOe stAnds'." Ariana said like she was mimicking their instructor. Who, unluckily, had overhead them and now was walking towards them. Aurora could easily take a step back, leaving Ariana to get the blunt end of it, but she'd rather stand next to her best friend.

"I'd like to remind you guys that you did get a warning from X. So, with that in mind, what did you say about the toe stands?" Grian said with a challenging tone. Aurora could swear it was only directed to Ariana.

"Nothing, sir." Aurora spoke up as no one answered. Grian responded by placing a hand on their shoulder.

"That's okay girls," Grian switched from looking at them to addressing the whole class, "we'll be doing more toe stands. But, I want you guys to understand…" and Grian went on to explain. Lectures did not interest Aurora one bit so she pulled Ariana to their corner and started the practice.

Grian's POV:

Well. Another day, another ballet class to teach, another Ariana to deal with. Grian remembered the day Ariana joined. He saw her, and he dropped to his knees, puffed up his wings and screamed ‘NO’ at the top of his lungs. Everyone had looked at him weird. He didn’t care. However, she, and the rest of the class for that matter, were a very promising bunch of kids indeed, all well on their way to becoming ballet stars.

He looked around the classroom, taking a second to appreciate the greenery before getting his head into the game. He went around, fixing up the kids who weren't doing anything correctly. Of course Ariana and Aurora already had it down because they seemed to pick up things quickly. But that doesn't mean there isn't room for improvement. "We're all doing great, I think in a few minutes we can move on to the next step." Grian stated, with a bit of pride in his voice. Because he was proud of them for learning this, proud that they've stayed this long.

He swore he could hear a few murmurs of excitement, which was great. He shivered for a second, being reminded that he was wearing his work outfit. How he missed his red sweater, the warmth and coziness of it. His pants, that were just the perfect bagginess to not stick against his legs like how these tights were. It was uncomfortable to say the least. But, it was his work outfit, keeping in regulation with what X had put the dress code as.

Grian started to go through five positions, scrambling up some of the numbers to catch a few people off. "Don't anticipate the move." he stated out of pure experience. These positions were only the beginner ones luckily, so no one seemed to mess up too bad. Although, he did promise they'd be doing something different. So, something different they would be doing.

"Rest. Alright. Like I promised l, we'll be practicing something new. Although this will take multiple days to learn for a few of you." the instructor said, shooting a glare at Ariana. "This move is called 'Assemblé'. You'll be lifting off the ground with one of your legs, for practice it's whichever one is stronger. You should land on both your legs before returning to the fifth position. Understood?" Grian stated and then asked.

They did not, which is when someone brought the topic up of what they were supposed to do with their wings. Which Grian would respond with a face palm and a disappointed sigh. More so disappointed in himself. "Sorry guys. You should extend your wings slightly, you shouldn't hit the wall or the barre." he explained, extending his wings outward just slightly. "Here, I'll give you guys an example."

With that, Grian would go to the barre and fold his wings to his back to start. He started in position one, moving to position two then three, before lifting himself off the floor using his right leg. The avian hybrid extended his wings slightly, not hitting the wall or anything with them and in a couple of seconds landing on both his feet, snapping to the fifth position. He wasn't going to lie, his anxiety was high there. If he messed one thing up while these kids were watching him it would've been laughs and disappointment. At least it wasn't as bad as it was when he was a teenager, especially since he could throw one of these children right out the window- No no no. You'd get the Academy sued, Grian.

Grian would turn over to the rest of the class and smile at them to instill confidence in them. “Did that help you understand what to do?” He softly said, his anxiety slowly wearing off.

He saw Ariana frowning. Shit. He forgot she can tell when stuff like that happened. He’s gonna get interrogated later. But he couldn't focus on that too much, needing to get these idiots started.

A little while later, everyone had started doing their assemblés. They were all improving really fast! However, looking over, he saw that Ariana and Aurora had basically mastered the pose already. Of course they had. They were the two that grasped new concepts the fastest, after all.

TIMESKIP 2 HOURS LATER

Scar’s POV:

Scar planned on getting to this place early. Yet now he was stuck in traffic. Luckily he left early enough to be there just on time if this traffic hurried up. It felt like New York traffic, just in London. It was absolutely horrible.

Although the cars weren't noise polluting. Usually road rage would get someone, but there was barely anything. And to add onto that the buildings are absolutely beautiful. The architecture was amazing. Although Scar liked seeing nature at its finest.

Scar arrived at the academy, taking in its structure. This was his first time here, since Cub usually picked Scar's sister up. As soon as he walked in, he regretted not bringing his cane with him. The cold air made his bones ache more than they already had. Even though the academy was cold, the interior was absolutely beautiful. Scar would get distracted by the chandeliers hanging. They were golden, with those yellow stained lights. The chandeliers also had little tear drop shaped gems hanging down. It was quite the combination.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, getting his attention. "Hi, sir. Can I help you with anything?" they said. They sounded strict. And Scar was wondering whether or not he was security.

"No, no, no- Well yes. Would you happen to know where Aurora Goodtimes is stationed?" Scar asked.

"Oh. I thought Cub usually picked her up. Although- Are you her father?" the strict man said.

"No no no no, I'm her older brother. Cub is a friend of mine. Scar Goodtimes." Scar said as he held his hand out.

"Xisuma Void, you can call me X. I'm the headmaster of this academy." X said and shook his hand. His grip was firm, just like his personality.

"It's a pleasure to meet you X." Scar said as he shook hands with the headmaster.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine Mr. Goodtimes. Your sister is an excellent learner."

"I'm glad to hear. She absolutely loves this place. She talks about it everyday." Scar stated, looking around a bit in curiosity of where his sister was.

"Mhm mhm. She's with our instructor Grian. He's on the second floor and has a red bird outside his room. You'll know when you see it." X said. Honestly his tone now was less strict and more.. fatherly?

"Alright! Thanks!" Scar said with a wave goodbye.

He'd slowly walk up the stairs, because of the aching bones. God he wished he wasn't so forgetful! Once he made it upstairs he walked down the hall, looking through the classrooms. There were a few different ones. Gem, whose room was labeled the councilor's office. Pearl, who seemed to be an instructor of sorts. She had cool props as well. Mumbo K. Jumbo–jeez he used his whole name–who was also an instructor. Although with Dubs, who seemed like a really cool instructor. He stopped at the door, a little red bird instead of a name outside of it.

Scar opened the door, and smiled at his sister. Who quickly realized her brother was here and ran over to gently hug him. "Where's your instructor, Aurora? Don't just wanna steal you from your class."

"Grian's over there!" Aurora pointed over to her instructor.

Scar would smile and look over to where she pointed. His gaze stopped in its tracks as he saw Grian. First he saw the wings, the beautiful brown wings. Then the dirty blond hair, just slightly messy in style. As soon as Grian had realized someone was staring at him his feathers seemed to fluff out. That's when he did a 180° spin. Scar's brain ran, ran fast either with work or actually out of his skull. His jawline.. his lips.. his black eyes.. he swears he could stare into the deep black eyes and get lost into them…

cough cough

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A/N: WOAGHHHHHHHH!!!!! I am so proud of me and desertduofan for creating this! Also sorry for leaving you on the cliffhanger, we're working on chapter 2! Big props to @imhereforthecomics once again, for creating this au and inflicting us with the brainrot, and have an amazing birthday! And to all the lovely people who read this, thank you so much for reading! We hope to get chapter 2 out soon for you guys!

#sky actually wrote #scarian ballet au #grian #scar #scarian #cubfan135 #ariana griande #all the maintags to get everyone's attention

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faith-less-one · 18 days

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Fic: So It's You (6 / 14)

Sixth chapter of my new AU Brennan/Cass fic! Original series here.

Cassandra

Her pretty noble fool is less of a fool than she had imagined. A little less noble, too, if one takes noble to mean the sort of pampered fop she is used to encountering in such situations. Which she had.

She had imagined a great number of things when he suggested a more ‘enjoyable’, less ‘appropriate’ activity, especially when he had then called it ‘a different sort of dancing’. But she had not guessed that he might want to spar with her. Or that he would be able to talk her out of her promise to Anthony with such ease. Or, indeed, that he would – with a practiced deftness of hand that had made her heart race – pick the lock on the gate leading out of the gardens.

(A far better plan than her idea of climbing over the garden wall.)

But when it actually comes to sparring…

He offers her a choice of weapons. There are practice staffs and daggers, along with a few axes and larger two handed weapons that she can see in the dim moonlight that filters into the room. She is familiar with a wide range of weapons, obviously, though she does particularly favour her sword and shield. There is little that can get past her when she wields them. But swords are out. Though she doubts Anthony will keep to his end of their deal (she would be shocked if Clara, at the very least, did not spend part of the night in her brother’s bed, unless he manages to persuade one of the noble ladies to be there instead) she likes to have the upper hand. Claim the moral high ground.

But it leads to… indecision.

Sparring is dull when there is an excessive disparity between the opponents. She isn’t in the mood to instruct. But neither is she in the mood to pretend that she is less competent than she is.

To this end, she asks, “Which do you prefer?”

They are quite… close. Necessitated by the small space in the armoury. She decides to blame this for his renewed nervousness.

“My first choice is usually the sword, as I presume is yours,” he says, almost stuttering the words. “But I don’t mind the quarterstaff. I also quite enjoy just, well, bare-handed.”

She had not expected that. He doesn’t seem the type to enjoy such close-quarters fighting. But her pretty noble fool is increasingly full of surprises.

Read the rest on my AO3!

#cassandra pentaghast #inquisitor trevelyan #cassandra x inquisitor #dragon age inquisition #no powers au #regency au #regency vibes anyway #fanfic #enjoy!#next chapter up in 2 weeks!

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bearbluebooks · 11 months

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Chapter 15 - Autumn Recomposed

What happens if the Yule Ball meets Acotar? We get another girls getting ready, an alcohol raid and a protective Azriel. Who will get the iconic Ron get-up?

Read on AO3 or under the cut :)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

I tried to time the music with the passage, start the song at "With one swift movement" and get the full experience!

Gwyn POV

Otherworldly music moved through the corridors. Finding its way into every room and all the ears gathered there- urging them to listen, to dance, to come alive.

Gwyn could almost see the strings of melody dancing in the empty space.

The air seemed different too, it was filled with notes of excitement and expectation.

The Blood Rite was one of the biggest traditions of Helmerra. News reporters and officials came from faraway lands to observe the competition firsthand.

Ever since the draw, Gwyn’s days were filled with anticipation of all that was to come. She tried to prepare as best she could, but textbooks and stories could only limit the uncertainty so much.

All other time was spent preparing her body and mind as much as she could before she entered the unknown brutality that awaited her.

Her magic was useful and powerful, but also greatly unpredictable. Unlike hand-to-hand combat or weapons, both of which could be mastered through technique and strength.

Devlon granted them extra training time but it still wasn’t enough. Especially if they wanted to train as a team, something that Devlon highly discouraged, exclaiming in his stern voice ‘What use is a team, if you can’t even defend yourself’.

That’s why Gwyn spend most of her time training for battle on the secret roof together with the other Valkyries. Their nights were filled with one-on-one fights, strength training, and weapons practice. Archery became one of Gwyn’s preferred skills, next to the dagger for closed combat. Azriel loved her proclivity for the dagger. He even gifted her another dagger, which he strongly suggested she keep under a pillow.

Through repetition, repetition, repetition, Gwyn learned to use her weapons as an extension of herself. Her previous disbelief in her strength and skill was an extra barrier that disrupted the flow of force. She finally realized that it was all connected, that the fluidity of movement depended on her trust in the weapon and her skill as the wielder.

At night, Azriel made it his mission to give Gwyn private lessons. He experienced the competition firsthand and knew better than anyone which trials and tribulations were in store for her.

After a week of training, she could already feel all the training taking effect- her body reacted so much faster than she ever held possible, she even misjudged her strength a couple of times, and Devlon complimented her on her dagger skills.

With only three days left until the first trial, she wanted to make the absolute best of every day. Sleep was for the amateurs, that’s why when Azriel went to sleep, she read up on poisonous plants, dangerous animals, and Valkyrie fighting techniques. After all, brain was just as important as brawn.

But not tonight, tonight was for dancing and drinking.

For the very first time, she would be able to drink the notorious golden brew.

She could still see her mother drinking the sun-colored liquid with other villagers.

Once a year they would sit around the fire they built to honor Minera, their sun goddess, whilst singing songs and telling tales deep into the night.

Her mother seemed less constrained by the worries that always seemed to plague her eyes. To Gwyn, that alone made the drink seem like a magic potion. Unfortunately, alcohol was almost as rare as magic in Sangravah, there was no brewery and the only way to obtain it was through travelers or trade.

When Gwyn turned 18, her mom promised she could try the golden brew whenever it became available. Unbeknownst to either of them, that time never came. Until now.

The old promise hurt. She always imagined her first drink to be with Catrin somewhere in an inn, or the library. If she was honest, the place didn’t really matter as long as it was with her.

Even though she wasn’t here tonight, she promised herself to keep Catrin’s memory alive in whichever way she could. So tonight, she would drink for Catrin, as if she was there with her.

-----

Azriel POV

Gwyn’s first taste of beer would not be that watered-down golden brew bullshit, they usually poured at those sorry excuses for a party.

Last week, she mentioned it, and he vowed to have her first be something better than that.

Luckily, Rhys, Cassian, and him had a different tradition before every party. One hour before the lame party started, they would sneak out to the Busy Willow, the local bar just outside of Helmerra, to steal one keg of their finest drink- the Salty Hell.

Azriel already had his first taste of the dangerous liquid when he was twelve. At the Willow they didn’t care how old you were, as long as you had the gold coins to back it up- thanks to his shadows and Rhys’ allowance, they always did.

Their first encounter with the S.H. ended in a different kind of hell, bent over the toilet, sitting on the cold floor, praying to all the Gods that never listened to please take away the pain.

That didn’t stop him from repeating everything one week later, he just made sure to drink more water.

Nine years later, the trio had a lot more experience, but not necessarily wisdom, as they found themselves in the same bar, on the hunt for the same dangerous liquid, the Salty Hell.

Rhys came up with the plan last week. In those nine years, they had to become more and more creative. Sundamar, owner of the Willow, and smart son of a bitch, became more and more aware of their tactics. At first, he laughed it off, they were just children, and more than anything he was impressed. As the years went on, the repercussions became more severe- from slaps on the wrist to full-on bans.

This year, would top them all.

The plan was masterful because of its simplicity.

A diversion would be created by Cassian, who would kick in the door, concentrating all attention on the front of the bar. In the meantime, Rhysand would distract Sundamar with tales from Helmerra, the old gossip loved younglings' tragedies, the more sensational the better. Rhys’ power could be invasive and annoying, but as Azriel navigated his way into the locked backroom, he couldn’t be more grateful.

He could hear the steady heartbeat of the guard out front, and the smell of gunpowder hit his nose the second he stepped foot in the cramped space. Light was limited, there was one small window at the back of the room which was barely visible in the rows of barrels that lined the walls. Fortunately, his Illyrian senses helped him identify the different liquids contained in the chestnut kegs.

Making sure he kept his wings tightly pressed against his back to not knock over anything, he navigated the small space until he smelled that unmistakable wood odor, jackpot. After he deposited two barrels in his shadows, another chestnut container caught his eye.

The weathered label informed him of its contents, ‘Melon Stardust’. When he crouched down to smell the mysterious liquid, he was hit in the face with the sweetest fragrance that had no place in a bar, Gwyn would love it.

Shouts loud enough to reach the backroom suddenly erupted from the bar. Then a smack was heard, and a slamming of chairs. With one quick grab, he threw the Melon atrocity in one of his shadows as he stepped into another one to the source of the noise with two of his daggers ready in hand.

The whole bar was engulfed in a fight, not tonight, he thought to himself as he hit a man in the face. Another dagger flew towards the hand that was about to slap Cassian, who was surrounded by three males, in the face. “I think we’re about ready here”, Rhysand’s voice said in his mind, “Grab Cassian and let’s get out of here.”

With two sweeping motions, Azriel pushed two males out of his way and forcefully grabbed Cassian by the shoulder, he could faintly hear some argument “Buy me dinner fir-“

In the blink of an eye, all three stood in the Illyrian common room. Blinking to the new reality they found themselves in. “Let’s get dressed brothers”, Rhysand exclaimed.

-----

Gwyn POV

Catrin loved to dress up. Their mom had an old chest with dresses tucked away in her bedroom that they would often plunder when they were children.

The beautiful garments made her feel like a gorgeous princess, or a brave knight, or a scary pirate- everything was possible with a good imagination.

Gwyn didn’t mind dressing up, but it didn’t have the same effect on her as it had on Catrin. She transformed into a whole different person, like magic. Gwyn could still see her dancing around in the small bedroom with her small hands on the flowy gown, spinning, spinning, spinning, until she was so sick she would have to sit down.

Tonight, Gwyn would also be a princess, for Catrin.

By the Acheron sisters, Gwyn could once again share their collective closet.

It was no easy feat, with so many options, all the beds were covered in garments, skirts, tops, and shoes. So many shoes.

In the background, daylight slowly made way for the luminescence of evening. The soft light covered everything in a cozy radiance that only existed in one small time frame.

Gwyn felt like a doll, so many gowns were tried on until they unanimously decided on a long emerald green gown.

The elegant garment had a voluminous skirt with a singed waist. The open back showed much of her pale skin and freckles, whereas her chest was completely covered in a flowy horizontal fabric. The dress was held up by two thin bands, leaving much of her shoulders bare. Nesta let her borrow two stunning diamond earrings and a matching thin diamond necklace.

Elain urged her to wear one of her emerald high heels, proclaiming in that convincing way of hers “They match too well for you not to wear them tonight!”

All Gwyn saw were two deathtraps that would surely be the end of her before she ever stepped foot in the Blood Rite. Her first steps resembled a newborn fawn, who just learned to walk. When she finally started to gain some confidence she fell flat on her face.

She almost gave up, what was the point, nobody would see it under the dress anyway but then she reassured herself that she could use Azriel as a walking stick.

Gwyn felt beautiful and expensive.

“You look stunning, Gwyn.” Nesta said from behind her, as she put the necklace around her neck and then sternly “If you lose that necklace, I know where you live.” Gwyn hoped that she was joking, just to be sure, she said an extra prayer to the Mother.

Looking around the room, she tried to imprint the memory in her brain forever. The friendship gathered in the room and the love they all shared for each other.

Gwyn had lost her twin, which was a loss she would carry with her forever, a piece of her soul died with her on that day. But looking around the room, she felt like she wasn’t alone anymore. Their grace, generosity, and open arms filled her with so much warmth and gratitude, that she choked up a little.

Feyre, who spend a lot of time with Rhysand, but was always there for her if she needed it. Tonight she wore a blue gown that resembled the night’s sky, with small silver stars adorning the layered skirt. The heart-shaped top was separated by a silver belt that created a beautiful shape.

Her best friend, who was the biggest reason for her dorm being a home, wore a tight red dress that skillfully showed all her curves. There was a black sheer fabric layered on top of the mahogany garment, with black sheer gloves that gave the overall apparel an elegant but sharp look.

And then there was Elain, who was as wonderful as she was kind. Their relationship could have become awkward when Azriel and her started dating, especially when they started to share a room and he would come over. Although it took some getting used to the new situation, from both sides, she never made Gwyn feel unwelcome. And for that, she would always be grateful. Tonight she looked ethereal in her purple fairytale dress. The sheer sleeves matched the fluidity of the star-studded skirt perfectly.

Mor and Emerie went on a date beforehand, but their clothes remained a mystery until they were reunited at the Starfall ball. Emerie did tease that she would be wearing a suit, and Gwyn couldn’t wait to see it in person.

One more person was missing, everybody knew Amren preferred to collect treasure instead of wearing it. She did make an exception for the Starfall ball and reassured them she would join them later.

The Starfall Ball was an ancient tradition as old as the Blood Rite and Helmerra itself. Tradition was marked by rules, and there were several, as Gwyn and all other students were informed by several teachers, in multiple classes.

The most important rules were that dress robes were mandatory, the ball would start at 8 p.m. sharp, and there would be wine. Several times, they emphasized for everybody to be on their best behavior, or else...

The mysterious threat left too much to the imagination and scared most students enough not to try anything.

The end of the night was signaled by a yearly migration of stars. When the sky was painted in light, and spirits found their way back home.

One quick spell by Professor Helion turned all other lights off, to ensure the stars could be seen in their full glory.

During the spirits migration, silence was mandatory, to commemorate all fallen Blood Rite students that perhaps colored the sky that night.

Gwyn wondered if she would be one of the lights in the sky next year.

A stern knock on the door brought her back to reality and Nesta rushed to the door to see the cause of the intrusion.

“Hello beautiful”, the deep voice said from the door opening. He already barely fit in the doorframe, but now he had to walk sideways because of the huge barrel he held under his arm. With one kiss Nesta urged Cassian inside. When he put the barrel down, the two locked arms and walked toward Nesta’s bed.

“Feyre darling.” Rhysand greeted as he elegantly walked into the already cramped space to kiss Feyre on her cheek.

Elain’s date, Lazarus, was running late and would pick her up whenever he could.

She deserved so much better. She knew Lucien had a small crush on her and she couldn’t help but wish he was here right now. During Royals class and group reflectionism, the two of them had grown close. Someone she could rely on. Someone she considered a friend. Tonight she would help her friends, even if they didn’t know it yet.

The last male to enter was more silent as he walked towards his destination. Words seemed to escape his mind, as he didn’t utter a single word until he reached her side. “You look- you look gorgeous, Gwyn.”

His hand caressed the naked skin on her back, as if he was mapping every piece of her with his hand. Small points of electricity erupted at the innocent touches and Gwyn cherished every second of it. She did not make a move until he was satisfied and it was her turn to admire what stood before her.

Tonight, he wore a suit that seemed to be tailormade to his body. The black blouse and classic jacket fit his muscular arms in an almost magical way. The matching black trousers showed his powerful legs in an almost obscene way. To not stray from the theme too much, he wore black oxford shoes which finalized the overall grand attire.

Gwyn couldn’t help but chuckle. She made a mental note to inspect his closet the next time she was in his room- to go on a mission to find at least a white shirt.

With a quick movement, Gwyn took his scarred hand in hers and guided them towards her bed opposite where Nesta and Cassian were sitting.

Cassian and Azriel continued a conversation they seemed to have started outside, she could faintly hear ‘next time be more subtle’ when Nesta smiled at Gwyn. Gratitude and something else colored her blue-grey eyes. Someone less familiar would have missed it, but Gwyn could swear it was sadness that shone through her eyes.

Gwyn couldn’t help but share the feeling. The easy companionship, the family they created with each other. All of it could be taken from them in a second, and both of them were all too well aware of it. On instinct, Gwyn grabbed Nesta’s hand and hoped it reassured her enough to let her enjoy the evening. One squeeze of her hand back told her the answer.

That muscular leg she was just admiring moved closer and closer, and when it finally touched her, it sent a little shockwave throughout her body. The touch made her wish they were alone.

One of his shadows suddenly dropped another barrel onto her desk, “Melon Stardust” he whispered in her ear, “I didn’t want your first drink to be fairy wine, so we got you something else.”

The corners of her mouth smiled before she realized the incredibly thoughtful gesture. Did she want to know how he got it? She opted for the simpler question “What is it?”

Another smile adorned his face as he said in a hushed tone “Melon Stardust. It’s very sweet, you’ll love it.” A glass appeared in everybody’s hands, and although she recognized the red color, it smelled so sweet she was sure her nose got cavities from just the smell.

Cassian’s voice filled the room as he exclaimed with a raised hand “To a great night and even greater friends.”

“Hear hear” Rhysand answered, and in unison, all seven raised their glasses.

One taste was all Gwyn needed to understand the absolute danger of heaven and hell that the drink contained. It was the promise of an uninhibited existence in the form of liquid candy.

After she finished one glass in what couldn’t have been more than five minutes warmth engulfed her body, her fingers felt tingly and her head began to feel lighter.

Azriel laughed “You like it then?” to which she answered “Very much. Too much.”

Groups mixed and drinks flowed until Azriel found his way back to Gwyn’s side, and she finally had the chance to say “Thank you for getting it, Azriel” and she placed one chaste kiss on his lips. To which he softly licked the sweetness off her lips and whispered “Anything for you.” One scarred hand caressed her exposed back and found a resting place on her leg.

If it was the alcohol, his words, or the lingering touch, her heart spread warmth throughout her body.

Suddenly she felt like standing up, moving her body, DANCING.

“Guys let’s go!” Nesta ordered as if she read her mind.

When they walked out hand in hand, his wings seemed to splay even more proudly than normal. Protecting her from the slight chill that always stalked the corridors. His shadows trailed behind them, and Gwyn thought she saw pride radiating from their little bodies.

Once they reached the hall she already spotted that familiar red-headed male standing with his back towards the stairs.

Gwyn asked Lucien to meet them at the entrance, to combine both friend groups and enjoy the ball together. Next to Lucien stood Jurian, a human reporter who was allowed to visit for the special occasion, and a beautiful female with reddish-gold hair.

Wasn’t that the female she saw in Koschei’s dungeon?

She vowed to ask Lucien about it later, she didn’t want to ruin anybody’s night, and Koschei was sure to have that effect.

The best-dressed male in all Helmerra was wearing something that looked like it was as old as the Starfall ball itself. The pants and jacket were made of a color brown she had never seen before, and it resembled something she could only describe as molding brown. His white blouse had so many frills it took away all attention from the strange color, but not in a good way. His shoes were dark brown and elegant?

She would love to know what happened there. Did he lose a bet or something?

When she looked behind her, to make sure everybody was still together, she could swear she saw jealousy in Elain’s brown eyes. With a quick shake of her head, the emotion disappeared too quickly for anybody to realize it was there in the first place.

“Hi, Lucien. You look… unique,” to his credit, he did make it work in a way nobody else would have been able to. “No need to lie Gwyn. I know I’ve looked better” he responded with a smile.

Suddenly, an audible laughter could be heard. The soft voice behind her took the words right out of Gwyn’s mouth when she asked, “What happened?”

Lucien seemed surprised at the interest but gladly took the opportunity when he answered “It’s an old family tradition, I’m her last chance to carry it out.

“And if one of the Vanserra’s can pull it off, it’s me don’t you think?” he said with a wink.

A red flush washed over Elain’s face, and joy seemed to color her eyes. “I wouldn’t say that. I think Eris makes a strong contender.”

“Oh, you do? I don’t think I’ve heard a worse insult in my life.” As the words left his mouth, one hand covered his heart in pretend anguish.

Gwyn smiled and spotted another reflectionist member standing just behind Elain and Lucien. With a quick wave, she greeted Elly, who was wearing a purple dress that brought out her eyes.

Elly looked away nervously, instead of waving back.

Maybe she wanted to keep her spaces separate. Unfortunately, reflectionism was still surrounded by a lot of stigma. Gwyn felt a slight pang of hurt, but it was quickly replaced by understanding- not everybody had the support system she had. She could give her all the space she needed.

Unlike Lazarus, who suddenly stood way too close for her liking. “Where are the other smut sisters?” the last two words were spat out with a disgust Gwyn was not used to hearing.

“Far away from your petty insults. What do you want Lazarus.” She crossed her hands in front of her body in an attempt to distract her body enough not to roll her eyes.

“I just want to talk, is that not allowed anymore? I’m not the one who permanently scarred the other one, am I?”

He was right.

The black-haired male moved in front of her. A smile adorned the face that still carried a permanent reminder of their last encounter when Gwyn punched Lazarus and accidentally left a handprint on his face.

The memory gave her slight chills. Although all her training provided a semblance of control, her power had grown immensely since that night.

Who knew what hurt she could cause now?

That didn’t mean she had to stand there and listen to him taunting her.

One had to be the bigger person, and it was not going to be the one standing in front of her.

“Have fun tonight, Lazarus.” She said as she whipped her hair around and walked straight into the biggest person in the room.

“Everything okay?” Azriel asked with slight worry in his voice and anger in his eyes.

“Just Lazarus.” She answered, before adding “I handled it.” She didn’t want him to get caught in Lazarus’ stupid games.

The best way to win was to not play at all.

“I know,” He said into her hair. “I know,” a soft added whisper.

Azriel walked back behind her and asked “Ready?”

With one nod and a deep breath, he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided them toward the gathering of people.

She still wasn’t used to this many people in one place, her heartbeat quickened, and all sorts of thoughts popped into her brain- where are the exists, what if the Sun Sages invade the school, what if a fight breaks out, what if the punch is poisoned?

The large hand that covered almost all of her back seemed to feel her worries because he placed reassuring circles along her skin. All tension escaped her body at the loving touch of his hand.

Slowly he guided them both inside, where the absurdity of magic was revealed. All light seemed to have vanished to create tonight’s spectacle.

Dusts of silver fell down the ceiling in repeating motions, creating the illusion of falling stars. All tables were removed in favor of one big dancefloor that was barely visible in the darkened space.

She could barely distinguish the statues that she knew adorned the wall.

Did Azriel have better sight? He seemed to navigate the space without worries, whereas Gwyn was increasingly worried she would trip and fall.

Suddenly Professor Helion stood in front of her as her eyes snapped up to meet his he asked “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what professor?” she inquired slightly worried.

Gwyn was nothing if not prepared.

Not having an answer made her palms sweat and drench the hand she was currently holding.

In a quick movement, she retreated her hand and rubbed it on her emerald dress.

Azriel eased both worries as he joined hands again and confidently said “We are. Watch and learn Helion.”

Ready for what? Gwyn said still worried as she was twirled into the darkness.

-----

Azriel POV

Are you ready?

What kind of question was that?

He was born ready.

All his mother’s dance lessons prepared him for this moment.

“Do you trust me?” was the only warning he gave before he softly but confidently pulled her towards the dancefloor.

When he found the perfect spot at the outer ring of the ballroom, he made sure to keep both feet together, as they faced each other. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, strong eye contact makes the dance sweetheart.

With one soft movement, he placed Gwyn’s right hand in his left, as the violins introduced the new symphony of sounds and movement.

With one slick turn, he swept Gwyn and him along the outer side of the ballroom.

Slowly more instruments joined the quick melody.

His expert gaze spotted empty spaces to ensure safe and fluid movements along the crowded space.

His right hand moved towards her waist with the change of melody as more instruments joined in.

His stead and quick feet never missed a beat.

More instruments joined and the music influenced his movements. He felt it in his bones. He closed his eyes and felt the soft breeze of the wind that signaled his safe space. He could hear the humming of his mother, and how it beckoned the muscles in his body to move to the music.

The familiar moonflower, juniper, and vanilla scent brought him back to the present, and the beautiful female in his arms.

He could see the initial surprise in Gwyn’s eyes that was replaced with pure happiness. Turn after turn her smile brightened.

He needed to have her closer, and he wanted to memorize the magical sight in front of him.

His hands decided for him, as they grabbed Gwyn closer and moved her body flush to his, “I think we showed them enough, don’t you?”

Gwyn was speechless as he guided them both off the dancefloor and into a dark corner in the hallway.

With one swift movement, he softly pushed Gwyn against the wall, his enormous body covering her from sight.

His shadows felt protective, as always, and added an extra obsidian shield to obscure them from any drunk onlookers.

“You look stunning, my moon.”

She gifted him a smile again, as she playfully pushed him away exclaiming “You already said that.”

He would never tire of the sight- of her vibrant copper hair that always stood out in every room, of her teal eyes that reminded him of home, of her freckles that were even more Gwyn than her stubbornness.

All he could think to say was, “And I will until the day I die.”

The words caused a beautiful redness to erupt all over her face.

Without thinking, his mouth moved to cover hers in a passionate kiss.

It started gently, he didn’t want to scare her with everything he wanted to do.

How he wanted to kiss every freckle on her body, how he wanted to discover just how much he could make her blush. What he could do with his tongue. With his cock- which was already achingly hard in his pants.

Before he could deepen the kiss, she already opened his mouth with her tongue. One of his hands moved to her hair, which he softly pulled before he caressed the thick strands.

“Nesta spent hours on it” she managed to say in between kisses.

“Do you want me to stop”, he teased into her mouth.

One movement of her hips into his groin answered his question for her.

With one movement of his hand, he cupped her ass and pulled her flush to his body. Gwyn wrapped her legs around his hips and he made use of the movement to turn them around so he could give her stability.

He briefly touched the tip of her tongue with his, before he deepened the kiss.

Pleasure erupted all over his body, as he got lost in the sensation of her mouth.

She got skilled, and there was no place he would rather be.

Hours or minutes passed, as time was lost, and happiness was found.

---

Helion needed Gwyn for some a speech and found them in the hallway after who knows how much time had passed.

Alone again, the earlier anger reappeared.

Lazarus.

His shadows already whispered where the shady asshole was hiding.

In one swift movement he was in front of the black-haired coward, no words were wasted when he said “You pull that shit with Gwyn again and I’ll make you regret it, you hear me.”

The little shit was speechless.

“You hear me.” He repeated with even more ire in his voice.

He didn’t seem at a loss for words when he spoke to Gwyn, little did he know she was the one he should be scared off.

“Just nod asshole.”

One quick reluctant nod told him all he needed to.

Now he could get back to what was important. She should be finished by now.

Gwyn was already standing outside, under the sky painted in pure starlight. Nesta and Emerie stood next to Gwyn, with Cassian taking up his usual spot behind Nesta.

Rhys and Feyre were somewhere in a dark corner according to his shadows, and Lucien and Elain were standing in the front near the ledge overlooking the forest.

Lucien’s bigger body engulfed Elain’s smaller frame in an embrace that looked as if they had done it a million times before.

Lucien and Elain? His eyes quickly roved back to two, his shadows had not given him any indication of this new development.

Maybe it was new, or they still kept their distance.

Either way, he was glad Elain found someone who could give her the love she deserved.

Just like he had in Gwyn. His eyes quickly found her again. Despite the magical sight, her eyes were closed, perhaps she was saying a silent prayer for the safe return of her mother and sister.

Suddenly, the sky was filled with red smoke of a red skull with a sun coming out of it.

Screams erupted amongst the students.

It was the sign of the Sun Sages. They were here.

He could see Gwyn, yelling his name into a crowd that threatened to swallow her.

The peacefulness that enveloped the school moments before was now overtaken by utter chaos.

“GWYN.” He yelled with more desperation than he ever felt in his life.

All of his shadows moved towards her in a flash. He didn’t even need to give them the order.

With desperate hands, he moved people out of the way.

He needed to get to Gwyn.

They would take her from him again.

His feet weren’t quick enough, but his shadows were.

His eyes never left her sight, and he could see the black shield forming over her.

Two more steps and he could envelop his arms around hers.

With one strong movement, he pulled her up and wrapped her in his arms.

“Are you okay?” He pleaded into her ear, more of a wish than a question.

“Are you?” She answered before words appeared in the sky and a shiver ran up his body before pure anger took over.

“She’s mine.”

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn acosf #gwyneth berdara #acotar #a court of silver flames #acotar alternate universe #ao3 fanfic #gwynriel fic

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whataphantasia · 1 year

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oog i keep forgetting to post here,,, i did a really big oc x canon promptlist on my alt twitter acc like, last year, and i like the stuff i did for it so im posting it here :3

day 1: dancing

needed to draw this for the fic where they dance at prom and a destroyed universe respectively ^_^

day 2: stargazing. the thumbnail image at the top :D

day 3: phone call

day 4: (not so) sneaky glances

ely sits inbetween these two in class. they have to deal with them staring daggers at each other. very stressful sorry ely </3 here's the doodle from like 2019 that made me wanna draw this

also like there's this moment in the fic where eadr is watching mysterious mysteries together and..... HSHSBDHSHDGDHDHS

day 5: "i'm proud of you"

THESE TWO NEED VALIDATION SO BAD RAGHHH don't @ me about the lighting on zim IK ITS REVERSED,,,

day 6: music/playlist. i didn't make any art for this but i did show off my playlists for zaeadr :D i will not elaborate here bc I Don't Feel Like It.

day 7: whispers

this is actually a redraw... :3c specieswap eadr! so cute :)

day 8: closeness

ok i didnt actually make any new art for this i just posted two old ones from 2021 LOL

day 9: protectiveness (CW blood)

dib and zim r dangerous to have as love interests come on ely 😔

day 10: "how was your day" (CW blood as well)

ely needs to tell him to stop tracking blood into the house.....

day 11: one wish

WOW something NOT ely related?! anyways ana and ad's whole love arc is kinda like... they both have responsibilities and unrequited feelings. moreso than my other oc x canon pairings. i think them a lot

day 12: matching accessories

cove jumpscare. IDK I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE MATCHING KEYCHAINS HE BUYS FOR MC... this is reiner btw i was playing as xim in my like 3rd playthrough >_< xe's fond of spoiling him with gifts, more than my other mcs...

day 13: nightmare

it took me 13 days to break and make sans x shelby art SJWKDJWJ anyway. shelby doesn't meet him pre-corruption but whatever i think they're cute

day 14: makeup

I HATE THIS DRAWING RAAAA but ely likes asking to do his nails ^_^ even tho theyre terrible at it but he doesnt mind :3c

day 15: "you are my happiness"

ok uhh my bad this isn't oc x canon LOL. but... erfi and ana... have a lot of angst like halfway/early in their arc bc erfi sees her as a beacon of light/savior, especially due to her current relationship with the ppl in her life.................... they get better dw!!! ad goes through a similar arc so i think that was how i tied it into the oc x canon promptlist LMAO

day 16: indirect kiss

SODA BOTTLE... IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW. i've talked about this scene in the fic NON STOP to my close friends.... its when dib realizes he has a crush on ely...... i drew this like in 2021 SHWJSJW

day 17: morning cuddles

SORRY i just think it's a super funny possibility that zim becomes domestic. idc if it's out of character thats why its funny U_U!!

oh and uhm yea i have a fankid 4 these guys... have i talked abt her... i dont think i have... but ive drawn her a lot... maybe ill post more art abt her later...

day 18: photoshoot

uhhhmmm im gonna crop this for my tumblr.... yea.... anyways i love the possibility that when they're adults they become super popular, like in dib's wonderful life of doom X)

day 19: voicemail. THAT ONE THING I POSTED!! yes it was a shelby x error thing. i was listening to pick up the phone by fir at the time, which like, its not the errorshelby dynamic at all they're not toxic, but. the vibes... in the fic after shelby leaves the anti void he has a massive crisis... thats what the drawing is...

day 20: "what happened to you"

BRO I HAVE SO MANY IMAGES RELATED TO THIS FOR ANA AND ADAMAÏ... the images explain everything idc read them instead

day 22/23: hand made gift, late night drive

ummmm sooooo theres this chapter in the fic where they go to an echo flower field on the surface at night........ this is that.... DIES

that last one i never posted on twitter :0c and uhm thats all i did of the 30 day promptlist! it was fun! i got to draw so much... yay :3 thats all. explodes in embarrassment

#ph_art #ph_ramb #ph_iz #ph iz:ss #ph_ut #ph_wakfu #zaeadr #phoc_elycrowe #phoc_reiner #phoc_anastasieteilun #phoc_shelbyquill #phoc_erfi #ah yes ive madeANOTHER long ass post my FAVORITE

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years

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Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 14: The Reckoning

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,438

Chapter Summary: With Loki gone, Teki finds herself reaching a breaking point.

A/N: I’m sorry.

This chapter includes depictions of violence.

Thanks for reading!

TW: Graphic violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Somehow, Teki managed to return to her rooms, although she didn’t remember how—she was fairly certain the Queen had offered to escort her back, but she wasn’t sure if she actually had or not. Perhaps she was in shock, or perhaps her mother’s training to keep a mannerly expression was rooted deeper than she realized, but some way or another Teki made it back to her bedroom before she completely fell apart.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. She sobbed into the front of her dress, the words circling her head in an endless chant. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

He was the only person she had, the only person she could talk to, the only person who would listen. He was the only place were she could smile, where she could stretch out and actually breathe instead of suffocating all alone laced into a crimson dress. He was the only person in her life that didn’t have to care about her and somehow the only person who did.

And they had taken him away.

It was clear that her mother and Osvald had known about it. The dressmaker debacle made sense now—it was all planned, to keep her and Loki from protesting until it was too late. That night, Teki face down on her bed, hiccupping into her pillow, listening them whispering outside her door.

“It’s a good thing,” her mother was saying. “Even with her throwing a fit about it. I’m glad the King agreed. He was just mucking everything up.”

Teki turned her head to the wall, staring but not seeing. Empty vials of poison danced across her vision.

Was Daddy mucking everything up too, Mama?

She was still sniffling that night when her door creaked open just a crack.

“Teki?” Brant’s voice was hushed, uncertain. “Can I sleep with you?”

She quickly wiped her cheeks, humming in quiet affirmation as she grasped for her responsible voice. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Ever since he had learned to walk, Brant had been sneaking into her room at night, fleeing his bed and the snarling creatures he was certain lurked in the darkness. He had only stopped this a few months ago, after Osvald found them curled up together one morning and spent breakfast ranting on about how Teki was turning his son into a recreant.

But tonight, Brant shook his head as he crawled under her covers.

She frowned. “Then what’s wrong?”

He stared up at her with wide eyes that glistened in the faint moonlight coming in from the window.

“You’re sad,” he said.

Oh, Brant. Teki pulled him close, and he hugged her back. She rested her cheek against his sandy hair. It was nice to have somebody to hold on to.

“Yes, I’m sad right now,” she murmured. “But it’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ll be fine.”

“I have to take care of you,” he whispered solemnly. “Prince Loki told me I’m s’posed to.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Prince Loki?” she asked. “When did he tell you that?”

“He came while you and Mama were gone. He said they were sending him away and he had to talk to you. He said he’d be learning more magic things, so when he came back he’d be able to give me wings.”

Teki bit her lip. She wondered what he would’ve said, had he managed to get to her before they sent him off. She thought of the day of the Games, hidden away in the healer’s tent.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

Next to her, Brant inhaled.“Teki?” he asked slowly, as if he were afraid to put the thought to words.“Do you think you could maybe marry Prince Loki instead?”

There was a lump in her throat as she pushed his bangs out of his face. “No,” she sighed. “It has to be Thor.” Saying out loud only made the cords around her heart pull tighter.

“I like Loki better,” he whispered, barely a breath.

Teki stared into the nighttime shadows. “So do I.”

Suddenly, Brant grinned through the darkness. "We could run away!” he hissed excitedly. “Prince Loki says there's secret tunnels all over Yggdrasil. We could go through one and meet Loki in Vanaheim!"

"Brant." She hadn't heard that one before, but it sounded like something the prince would tell her brother. Teki felt very tired. "That's just a story. They're aren't any secret tunnels."

"Yes there are! He told me where— I put them on my map!" He sat up, readying to crawl off the bed. "I'll show you!"

Teki pulled him back. She wished she had his steadfast belief in everything-- in magic wings and secret tunnels and happily ever after. As it was, all she could do was hold him closer. "It wouldn't work," she said. "They'd follow us and take us back. It wouldn't work."

For a moment, Brant seemed completely deflated, but then he perked up once again. “If I change my wish, do you think he could make it happen?” he asked excitedly. “Instead of the wings?”

Something about his face, the way hope seemed to radiate from his smile, crushed her even more.

“No,” she whispered. “Nothing’s going to change.”

…

The next week was less of a continuous period of time and more like a string of actions that looped over and over again. She dressed. She played piano for Frigga. She picked halfheartedly at her food. She waited for Thor to ask her to dance, then waited for him to move on once he had. She fell asleep to the empty throbbing of her heart.

Rinse and repeat.

Sometimes at night, she’d pull Loki’s dagger from its sheath and stared at her reflection in the polished blade, running her hands over the golden snakes on the hilt and wondering what he was doing. He had said he had always wanted to study in Vanaheim. She wondered if he was enjoying it. She hoped he was. Somehow, the thought that he was just as miserable worlds away from her as she was here made Teki feel even worse.

Her mother tolerated her gloom for a bit, but by the end of the week it was clear she was ready to move on.

“I had an idea!” she announced one day after barging into her room without warning. Teki had barely any time to shove the dagger into her nightstand drawer, but luckily her mother didn’t seem to notice her scrambling. “You know those little white cakes you love, that they make for the Winter Festival? I was thinking that perhaps we could convince the chefs to make an early batch. We’re nearing fall after all, and I can’t imagine that they’d refuse a request from the Crown Prince’s bethrothed!”

Teki mumbled a nondescript reply. Speaking to her mother—even looking at her—had suddenly become one of the most difficult tasks throughout the day. She avoided it when she could.

“Or, perhaps the three of us could take a day trip to the countryside! Remember that little cove we visited when Brant was a baby?”

When Teki didn’t even bother to answer this time, her mother huffed indignantly. “Tekla, I am trying here. You can’t just sit and mope in your bedroom forever.”

“Why did you marry Osvald?” Teki asked suddenly. It had been a question that had clung to her like a shadow for the last few days, Loki’s words rattling in her head. Your mother had a plethora of other options. Why Osvald? Of all people?

For a moment, her mother was stunned into silence. She laughed nervously. “Well, your stepfather and I met, and we got along very well, and we felt that we liked each other very much—”

“I don’t believe you.” The Teki of last month—the Teki of last week—would have fainted at the thought of such bitter words, but now she didn’t even flinch.

Her face darkened into a deep scowl. “What do you mean you don’t believe me?”

She should’ve stopped there, but the simmering resentment that had been bubbling within her for so long had just found a vent.

“Why did you really marry him?” she snapped. “What did he do to get you to marry him?”

“Stop!” her mother snapped. “I’ve had enough of this from you! You’ve had your time to sulk, now we have appearences to maintain.” She stormed from the room, only pausing briefly in the doorway to spit one threat. “If you won’t listen to me, then perhaps you should have a talk with your stepfather.”

The door slammed as she left. Teki sat in silence as the vibrations echoed in her eardrums. She had the sudden urge to scream—just to scream, at the top of her lungs until the windows shattered and the very foundations of the palace shook—but she swallowed it.

…

It came to a head the next day. She had just taken Brant for a walk in the gardens—his idea, as he insisted that looking at flowers always made people feel better. It had been sweet sentiment, and Teki tried her best to smile for him as they strolled past the lake, hoping that her brother didn’t realize that the sparkling water only reminded her more of Loki.

When they returned to their apartment, Osvald was waiting just inside. His cold glare immediately screamed trouble, but it wasn’t until she realized what it was that he was holding that Teki’s chest turned to ice.

“I found your little hiding spot.” His voice was low and dangerous as he tapped her father’s journal against his other hand.

Teki didn’t say anything. She watched the journal swing up and down against his palm, hypnotized by the soft beat of worn leather against skin. Besides her, Brant whimpered, gripping her hand more tightly. She didn’t move. Something kept her frozen in place, but it wasn’t the usual chill of fear. No, a single thought broke through the fog in her mind as she watched her only physical memory of her father dance in Osvald’s hands.

How dare you.

“You stole from us,” he continued. “You went through your mother’s things and you stole from us.”

“I didn’t steal anything.” She felt Brant stiffen at her words. You didn’t talk back to Osvald. They both knew this. They both knew what would happen if you did. But the fire blazing within burned through her caution.

Osvald was seemed taken aback by her bitterness, but he recovered quickly. “No?” He stalked closer to her, waving the journal in her face. “You’re lying to me now? Is this what I’ve raised? A filthy, lying little thief?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she repeated. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to drop her gaze, but she held her glare into his glittering eyes. How dare you. “That book is my father’s. It belongs to me.”

His scowl deepened. “I am your father. And I will not tolerate this behavior—”

“You’ll never be my father.”

She cried out when his fist crashed into her abdomen, doubling over as pain exploded across her ribcage and air rushed from her mouth. Her stepfather grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her backwards, slamming into the door. Colors splashed across her vision as her head smacked against the wood. Before she could completely lose her balance, Osvald yanked her up by the front of her dress.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” he hissed, throwing her back to the floor. Somewhere in the background, Brant was sobbing. “Brave little bitch.” His boot collided with her chest. Teki’s pained scream almost drowned out the sickening crack from her ribs. His foot came down again.

Her chest was on fire.

Teki coughed as she struggled to shield her abdomen, the taste of blood metallic and heavy on the back of her throat. He kicked her again, crashing against her lower back. When she gasped for her next breath, it felt like burning coals rushing down her airways.

“You never seem to learn, do you?” he snapped. She braced herself for the next blow, but instead her stepfather cursed.

Painfully, she craned her neck just enough to see her little brother pulling at Osvald’s arm. “Stop it!” he cried, tears running down his cheeks. “Get away from her!”

No—

Teki fought to get up but her limbs weren’t working properly, everything was throbbing, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe—

Brant shrieked in pain, a horrible screech that cut Teki to her very core. The room shook as a body hit the floor, Osvald growling words that she couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

Get away him from Brant—get him away from Brant—

Her brother lay lifeless on the ground, Osvald towering over him like some malevolent spirit about to feast. Teki wasn’t sure how she made it to her feet, but once she did, she flung herself at her stepfather with the last shreds of strength she could muster.

He must not have been expecting her to move, because when she collided with him her meager effort was enough to send both of them tumbling to the ground. Her body howled as they hit the hard wood. She had barely enough time to gulp for air before Osvald had her pinned to the floor.

“Is that the game you want to play, you fucking cunt?” he snarled, his hand a vice around her neck. Teki thrashed against his grasp, but he only pounded her head against the floorboards. “Is this what you fucking wanted?”

She couldn’t breathe. Teki clawed at his hand in a panic as she battled for air, scanty gasps that were rewarded with a tighter grip.

She couldn’t breathe!

“Please!” she choked as his wild eyes bored into her. Her vision was going white around the edges. “Please!”

Osvald didn’t budge.

He’s going to kill me.

Tears flooded the corners of her eyes, running down the sides of her head.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead—

Please! she screamed in her head, for her voice no longer worked. Please! Mama! Norns! Somebody!

But it was only Osvald, panting down at her with eyes as black as Hel—

I don’t want to die!

Only Osvald, sneering mouth twisted in laughter because he knew no one else was coming—

… please …

But there was nothing. Even her stepfather dissolved into a million bits of sparkling glitter as Teki faded away into the white abyss.

#loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #dances and daggers #dances and daggers chapter 14 #the reckoning

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asha-mage · 2 years

Text

“My lady, I-“ Lews Therin began, but Lanfear ignored him, and smothered her own frustration as she shoved down the temptation to draw on the Source. Instead she stepped forward and reached out again to touch his forehead, feeling for fever the way Joar’s mother had when they were children. She felt foolish- what could be detected from mere touch? – but she needed to cover the slip. She had been making too many of those lately.

“What happened?” She asked softly.

Lews Therin gulped and shook his head, brushing away Lanfear’s touch, then moved to the fire to lay down Cauthon beside it. “Ambush in the woods. We caught a patrol coming back.” Lews Therin said, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

“That lightning bolt-“ Hurin began, face pale and sickly.

“The work of the Darkfriends, no doubt.” Lanfear said softly, kneeling beside Lews Therin at the fire. “Perhaps, this mysterious Mordeth himself.”

For just a moment, Lews Therin’s eyes flicked to Cauthon and he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Interesting. She knew, from Ishamael, of some link between Mordeth and the boy, though he had not been clear on the matter, and the bits she had overheard since joining their party had not clarified it. Ishamael had been…not afraid exactly, she didn’t know that he was capable of fear any longer, but…wary of that link. Something to consider.

“Yet it did not stop you,” she noted, and Lews Therin shivered as she stood, gently laying a hand on his elbow to help him to his feet, and lead him over to the chest. It looked almost ghostly, reflecting the dancing firelight off its yellow surface. “Your effort has borne fruit.”

“The Horn- we-“ Lews Therin began extending a hand to touch the lid. Lanfear watched in fascination as he traced his fingers along the vines, frowning as if trying to remember something.

Realization hit her in the same moment that his fingers seemed to pick out two matching leaves, positioned one atop the other. Leaves in distinctive almost teardrop shapes, that if fitted together would make a whole circle, divided by a sinuous line.

Of course . Lanfear thought as she watched Lews Therin press his fingers against them at the same time. A disguise, to hide the true key. The symbol of the Aes Sedai. Sentimental fools to the very bitter end, it seemed.

The chest opened with a soft rush of air, a seam that was disguised by the carvings appearing and the top half of the chest springing backwards of its own accord. Lanfear watched, rapt, as Lews Therin dipped his hands within and drew out a curled golden horn.

It was beautiful, almost delicate, the surface of it glinting, untarnished by the ages. It hummed faintly with some ancient power. At some point since the War of Power, someone had added silver script in a curling loop around the bell, and she could not stop herself from reaching out to trace it with her fingers.

Tia mi aven Moridin isainde vadin.

“The grave.” She murmured softly. “Is no bar to my call.”

- Sworn, Chapter 14: Within The Dagger

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Fanfic #Sworn #WoT Bookspoilers #Rand al'thor #Matrim Cauthon #Cauthor

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cappymightwrite · 3 years

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So I’ve just read your meta on the TWOW Alayne I sample chapter (it’s amazing btw!) and I noticed something while reading it that I wanted to share and see if anybody else has noticed - nearly every man Alayne dances with during the feast could be taken as a reference to Jon or the Night’s Watch.

Ben Coldwater -> Snow is, obviously, cold water, and Ben is a sneaky Benjen reference

Andrew Tollett -> most likely related to Dolorous Edd Tollett, Jon’s old steward and good friend

Ser Byron the Beautiful -> GRRM has described Jon as a Byronic hero

Ser Morgarth and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse -> these men are more dubious, I’m not really sure of the link with Morgarth. Shadrich is a callback from Brienne’s AFFC plot though, and a sign that Sansa’s cover isn’t as secure as she and Littlefinger think it is

Ser Albar Royce - a reference to Waymar Royce, he of the many Jon parallels and Sansa’s old crush, though she finds his cousin(?) stout and dull

The Sunderlands - their family are the lords of the Three Sisters. In ADWD, Davos is told a story on Sweetsister about Ned having to sneak across the Bite during Robert’s Rebellion, to get North and call his banners. A fisherman helped him but drowned when a storm caught their boat - but his daughter got Ned safely to the Sisters. The prevailing story on the islands seems to be that he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly, whom she named after Jon Arryn

Uther Shett - I was half-convinced this guy also had a relative on the wall, because his name (insulting pun aside) seems to be a reference to Chett, the prologue POV of ASOS who had a grudge against Jon for losing him his position as one of Maester Aemon’s stewards in favour of Sam

Ser Targon the Halfwild - Jon will likely be half-wild when he comes back from the dead, but he’s already been described as ‘half a wildling’ multiple times. Also Targon = Targ-Jon?

Ser Roland and Ser Wallace Waynwood - both are described earlier in the chapter as long-faced with brown hair, which are also Stark features. Alayne thinks of them as “horsefaced”, probably an Arya reference that also calls back to her and Jon’s shared Stark look. Wallace is even the same age as Robb, and thus Jon, would be.

So though Jon wasn’t mentioned by name in the chapter, I think he was very present... not just lemoncake-wise ;)

Thank you! :D Haha for a moment there I was like...wait which meta? Had to take my mind back for a sec there because I've written quite a bit since then! But yeah, doing deep dives into certain chapters is really fun — my next one that's in the works is Jon XI in A Dance With Dragons. Great to hear you enjoyed my Winds one :)

Ooooh that is really interesting and a mighty fine catch! Definitely the vibe I got whilst reading that chapter, after having analysed Alayne II, AFFC (which chronologically precedes it), is that Jon's presence or references to him are made subtly throughout the chapter(s) — especially whenever Winterfell is alluded to because Jon is the "Snow of Wintefell", the "blood of Winterfell", etc. But also vice versa, Sansa is very much connected to Winterfell in Jon's chapters as well — "Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa."

But let's take a look at those names you listed below the cut! Big post ahead, so buckle up kids!

So, I hadn't noticed the significance of those names on my reading, but I can well believe what you're suggesting because it plays very much into how I interpreted the subconscious goings on of that chapter — that you have these rememberances/reminders of Winterfell and Sansa's Stark idenity at crucial moments within the chapter’s narrative pacing, especially prior to moments with Harry the Heir. Not to sound too crass, but it's sort like a marking of territory, and this is made even stronger by that goddamn phallic as hell Giant's Lance lemoncake (aka Jon's peen). It's all quite neatly buried, but when you start matching up the imagery...I mean, I guess wolves are territorial beasts, so...checks out? (George...why are you like this?)

It is interesting that we get that iconic entrance of the Giant's Lance lemoncake prior to these dance partners, i.e. a claim has been staked essentially, and it ain't from Littlefinger, which is what could be interpreted on first inspection. And let's not beat around the bush, as uncomfortable as it is (because Sansa is ONLY 13/14!!), this is a sexual claim being made owing to the phallic symbolism and the general tone of the chapter being about Alayne's betrothal/marriage:

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out.

I legit just snorted re-reading this: "splendid subtlety" MY ASS! What follows is a whole lot of gift-giving, which come to think of it, in combination with this bloody big cake...well, it reads quite a bit like a wedding breakfast to me, followed by dancing, in addition to a possible nod to a Stark bridal cloak, masked by the Arryn colours:

There were gifts as well, splendid gifts. Each of the competitors received a cloak of cloth-of-silver and a lapis brooch in the shape of a pair of falcon’s wings. Fine steel daggers were given to the brothers, fathers, and friends who had come to watch them tilt. For their mothers, sisters, and ladies fair there were bolts of silk and Myrish lace.

Because if we compare this "cloak of cloth-of-silver" with previous descriptions of Sansa's maiden cloak, we see this obvious recurring inclusion of either silver or grey as one of the Stark colours:

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain.

A maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared. – ASOS, Sansa III

"[...] and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back...why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright [...]" – AFFC, Alayne II

This is all very in keeping with the theme of the chapter, which is meeting Alayne's betrothed, Harrold Hardyng, so obviously a future marriage/alliance is very much a prevalent theme here. Furthermore, the mention of "Myrish lace" for the "ladies fair" does somewhat remind me of Alys Karstark's wedding garb:

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

"Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand. – ADWD, Jon X

I think some other people have mentioned before how even though Jon makes a conscious comparison between Arya and Alys — "reminded Jon so much of his little sister" — the romanticised, flushed cheeked imagery very much points towards a subconsious allusion to Sansa (ETA: anyone spoken on this got a link?). With that in mind, we could see this as foreshadowing of not only Jonsa, but a Jonsa wedding, and Sansa as Queen in the North — "a frosty crown" "Winter's lady" — with Jon as her king/consort. In my current Jon chapter analysis I've been working with the idea that actually as soon as Jon starts romanticising a girl, which is notably different from just noticing someone's physical beauty (e.g. with Val), that is when the subconscious comparisons to Sansa really jump out.

But anyway! Onto those names...or rather, Jon Snow stand-ins.

Rising, [Ben Coldwater] offered Alayne his hand. “Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”

“You’re very kind,” she said, as he led her to the floor.

He was her first partner of the evening, but far from the last. Just as Petyr had promised, the young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. After Ben came Andrew Tollett, handsome Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Then Ser Albar Royce, Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir. She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. Uther Shett appeared to pay her slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet, but Ser Targon the Halfwild proved to be the soul of courtesy. After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment. When the dance was done she excused herself, and went back to her place to have a drink of wine.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

If I've counted that right, that's 14 men? Alright, here we go.

First up...Ben Coldwater

I think you're right that Ben Coldwater feels very much like a nod to Ben-jen Stark, who is referred to as Ben a few times I think, and Jon Snow (cold water = snow), both men of the Night's Watch. House Coldwater also traces its lineage back to the First Men, and are sworn to House Royce, who are also notably descended from the First Men, have previously married into the Stark family and still maintain close connections to the current house through Ned's fosterage in the Vale. So, through the Royces, we see another possible connection to the Starks and Jon Snow...Jon Snow who was named after Jon Arryn.

I would also add that we have Ben make this inquiry prior to his dance with Alayne:

“Are there no singers?” asked Ben Coldwater.

I don't know, maybe I'm reaching but...singers feature quite a lot in connection to Jon, for instance:

Mance Rayder, who infiltrates Winterfell disguised as a singer called Abel, an anagram of Bael, aka Bael the Bard;

Bael the Bard and the Blue Rose of Winterfell — a story told to Jon by Ygritte, which very much evokes the tale of Rhaegar and Lyanna;

Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon's real father, was a notably skilled lyre player, whose singing supposedly made Lyanna cry — "The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle," (ASOS, Bran II). He is also theorised to have written the song Jenny of Oldstones, possibly for the Ghost of High Heart, Jenny's friend.

Ygritte — when Jon starts to find her more attractive, when he starts to romanticise her, he observes that "sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him," (ASOS, Jon II).

Val — again, we start to see Jon begin to warm to Val, to see her in more of a romantic + typically feminine light, because of her singing to the baby Monster: "I have heard you singing to him," (ADWD, Jon VIII).

Sansa — oh, my sweet Sansa...when remembering his family, not quite in his dying moments, but a little bit prior to that, Jon thinks "Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow," (ADWD, Jon XIII).

I think it's clear that Jon loves a good song and you know what? He'd probably be asking about the lack of singers too! One final detail perhaps worth noting is the seat of House Coldwater:

[...] the Coldwaters of Coldwater Burn [...] – TWOIAF, The Vale

Obviously, the "song of ice and fire" is not a person, but more the elemental and destructive forces of the Others and the dragons, yet nevertheless, through Jon's parentage, as well as his actions (burned hand, etc.), plus his personality to a certain extent (hot-headed then repressing emotions) you do have this duality of hot and cold, of fire and ice...Coldwater Burn? Could be something.

Ser Andrew Tollett

So, like you said, the name Tollett immediately puts us in mind of Eddison Tollett, also known as Dolorous Edd, who is like Jon, a black brother of the Night's Watch. And he is a good brother to Jon, voting for him in the election for the Lord Commander, as well as becoming his loyal steward for a time, before being sent on a mission to Long Barrow. Interestingly, Dolorous Edd, as well as the Tolletts in general, do have a bit of a Stark vibe to them...

Like a typical Stark, Dolorous Edd is described as having a "long face" (ACOK, Jon III), a face like a mule's to be exact, but also notably a horse's as well:

"[...] Me, I have the mules. Nettles claims we're kin. It's true we have the same long face, but I'm not near as stubborn [...]" – ADWD, Jon XII

He only wished he had time to kill Tollett as well. Gloomy horsefaced fool, that's what he is. – ASOS, Prologue

He is given the nickname Dolorous Edd (dolorous = mournful), and is referred to several times as being "dour" (ACOK, Jon II, Jon III, ASOS, Jon V, ADWD, Jon XII, XIII), an attribute not entirely out of place when we consider some notable Starks and their disposition, as well as their house words:

He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. – AGOT, Tyrion II

Winter is coming. The Stark words had never sounded so grim or ominous to Jon as they did now. – AGOT, Jon VIII

I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. – ACOK, Catelyn VI

Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages [...] And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. – ASOS, Catelyn V

So, not unlike Jon, Arya and Ned, Dolorous Edd has a "long and solemn" face (AGOT, Arya I), as well as a "dour" personality. Furthermore, even House Tollet of Grey Glen's sigil and words have Stark vibes, since according to semi-canon sources, their shield is "pily grey and black" and their words are "When all is darkest," which arguably carries the same ominous, Long Night warning of "Winter is coming". In addition to this, like the Coldwaters, the Tollets are sworn to the First Men descended Royces.

But beyond this, if we take a look at some legendary and historical Tolletts...we actually have two notable names:

Torgold Tollett — also known as Torgold the Grim, though ironically, because he was famous for riding into battle laughing, and naked from the waist up:

The songs say that Torgold knew no fear and felt no pain. Though bleeding from a score of wounds, he cut a red swathe through Lord Redfort's staunchest warriors, then took his lordship's arm off at the shoulder with a single cut. Nor was he dismayed when the sorceress Ursula Upcliff appeared upon a bloodred horse to curse him. By then he was bare-handed, having left both of his axes buried in a foe's chest, but the singers say he leapt upon the witch's horse, grasped her face between two bloody hands, and tore her head from her shoulders as she screamed for succor. – TWOIAF, The Vale

Ser Jon Tollett — In Fire & Blood, Jon Tollett is recorded as a member of King Maegor the Cruel's Kingsguard. After the king's mysterious death, his successor, King Jaeherys I, offered Maegor's surviving Kingsguard a choice between execution or taking the black. Jon Tollett chose the latter. This somewhat parallels Ned's decision to take the black, to a certain extent.

You could argue that there are more than a few similarities, or future foreshadowings, between these Tolletts and Jon Snow...

Ser Byron the Beautiful

Like you mentioned, Jon Snow has been described by GRRM as a "Byronic, romantic hero". I'm so annoyed with myself, because I had written up some good stuff on how Jon really does possess certain Byronic traits but as I was inserting a gif it ended up deleting most of what I wrote...so I'm still a bit bitter over that, but will rewrite it at some point soon. Take my word for it though, Jon Snow is 100% more of a Byronic Hero (a la Byron's own Manfred), than Sandor Clegane, for example:

GRRM: “Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love.” [source]

Ser Byron, as well as being described as beautiful, is also notably very gallant, the perfect knight:

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders. – AFFC, Alayne II

We all know that Sansa appreciates a bit of genuine courtesy, and in fact, she's taught Jon well in that regard:

"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."

"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her. – ACOK, Jon III

I think this Jon stand-in does rely mostly on Jon's connection to the Byronic Hero. So, if anyone is still a bit dubious on that (because Rochester and Heathcliff are trash), just hang in there for my eventual meta on the subject, which focuses on Lord Byron's OG Byronic Hero, rather than the later Brontë/Victorian iterations.

In fact, in terms of Jon's parentage and future romance with Sansa, there's one Byronic tale that may be a particular source of inspiration — The Bride of Abydos. This poem notably includes a romance in which half-siblings are revealed to be cousins...sound familiar?

Ser Morgarth the Merry

Another hedge knight, like Ser Byron, who is sworn into the service of Petyr Baelish. I've got to agree with you here, red-nosed Ser Morgarth's connection to Jon is quite a bit harder to decipher! I have done a little digging though, and it is possible that the Garth in Morgarth is a reference to several Garths that appear in Jon's chapters, as well as Garth Greenhand, the alleged ancestor of legendary House Stark founder...Brandon the Builder:

Garth of Oldtown

Garth of Greenaway

Garth Greyfeather

All of these Garths are rangers/members of the Night's Watch at the same time as Jon, though I think by Dance it is presumed that they are all dead, or at least missing — in fact, Garth of Greenaway kills Garth of Oldtown. Garth on Garth violence!!

Haha, oh god...I think I just got the pun...Morgarth = More Garth! More Garths the merrier! Get it?! More Garths everybody!

George, I hate you.

Ok, so that's what that is. It's literally just a dumb pun, yet it also connects Morgarth to the Night's Watch Garths, and therefore Jon.

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

I think you're right that Ser Shadrich's presence connects us to Brienne's quest, as well as foreshadowing potential shit hitting the fan at the tourney of the Winged Knights. But he also notably makes some interesting remarks, both to Brienne and Sansa, which we can connect to Jon Snow's secret Targaryen heritage:

"Where?" Brienne slapped another silver stag down.

He flicked the coin back at her with his forefinger. "Someplace no stag ever found...though a dragon might." – AFFC, Brienne III

On the surface, in response to Brienne's questioning about the whereabouts of the Stark sisters, Shadrich is talking about a monetary bribe. However, beneath that explicit meaning, is an implicit reference to a stag (Joffrey) failing, where a dragon (Jon) will succeed. Others have talked about this line in more detail elsewhere, but it seems like a pretty good allusion to the foils, Joffrey (a prince who is really a bastard) and Jon (a bastard who is really a prince).

In this exact Winds chapter, however, we also see a conversation between Alayne and Shadrich, which hints at his possible plans to uncover and abduct Sansa Stark in return for a lucrative reward:

“A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that’s not likely, is it?”

This "stumbl[ing] on a bag of dragons" could also be seen as an implicit nod towards stumbling upon Jon's Targaryen heritage later in the novel, something that is more "likely" than anyone would expect. That claim might be a reach, were it not for the implication that when Shadrich talks about money, i.e. dragons...he isn't actually talking about gold coins, he's talking about Targaryens, but more than that...he's talking specifically about Jon Snow.

Ser Albar Royce

"Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir." I think like Ser Morgarth, the physical appearance of these stand-ins doesn't always play a factor, because it would be kind of unnerving if they all had solemn long faces... So, what is important here is, like you say, the name Royce and his relation to Ser Waymar Royce, Sansa's first crush, who just happens to resemble and parallels Jon quite a bit:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. – AFFC, Alayne I

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned. – AGOT, Prologue

Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. – AGOT, Bran I

"They're not my brothers," Jon snapped. "They hate me because I'm better than they are." – AGOT, Jon III

Although, it is worth noting that the Royces, as a whole, do somewhat resemble the Starks in appearance, at least in terms of their eye colour:

Bronze Yohn Royce, the current head of House Royce of Runestone, has "slate-grey eyes" as well as a "solemn face", (AFFC, Alayne I).

Ser Robar, his second son was "comely in a rough-hewn way" (ACOK, Catelyn III), with "pale" eyes (ACOK, Catelyn IV), possibly grey like his father's.

Ser Waymar, Yohn's third son, as mentioned, was "grey-eyed" (AGOT, Prologue).

It isn't as clear whether or not their cadet branch, which Albar belongs to, tend towards grey eyes as well, though we know that Myranda has brown hair, specifically "thick chestnut curls" (AFFC, Alayne II) — typical looking Starks, like Ned, Arya, and Jon, all have brown/dark hair.

As previously mentioned, the Royces are also descended from the First Men, have kinship links to the Starks, knew Ned when he fostered in the Vale, and Bronze Yohn even "knows" Sansa Stark:

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw...he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." – AFFC, Alayne I

His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. "Lord Royce," she asked timidly, "will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?"

Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. "Do I know you, girl?" – AFFC, Alayne I

They also have the house words "We will remember", which somewhat evokes the recurring refrain "the north remembers" (ASOS, Catelyn, ADWD, Davos IV, ADWD, A Ghost in Winterfell, TWOW, Theon I), as well as a possible remembrance of the Long Night, similar to the Starks’ and Tolletts’ words. All in all, as well as evoking a certain Starkness (and Jon-ness), the Royces seem set up to be staunch allies of the Starks going forward.

All Three Sunderlands

Since these Sunderland brothers aren't given names, we can assume what is significant about them, in relation to Jon and Sansa, is their Sunderland name. As you noted, the Sunderlands are the reigning lords of the Three Sisters, and in Dance, through Davos' pov, we hear about Ned's time there during Robert's Rebellion:

"At the dawn of Robert's Rebellion. The Mad King had sent to the Eyrie for Stark's head, but Jon Arryn sent him back defiance. Gulltown stayed loyal to the throne, though. To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down. They say he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly. Jon Snow, she named him, after Arryn.

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true…but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.' " – ADWD, Davos I

This passage has one of my favourite asoiaf quotes of all time..."In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true...but what if we prevail?" Truly iconic. So defiantly hopeful.

But, yes, you're right that this story, and the Sunderlands, connects us to Ned, but more importantly...to Jon Snow. Really, Jon has quite a few Vale connections, all things considered, and he is named after Jon Arryn after all!

Uther Shett

Well, along with his buddy Ossifer Lipps (ass for lips), Uther Shett (utter shit) is an example of George having some pretty lowbrow fun with punny names. During their dance, Uther paid Alayne "slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet"...so not the best partner!

But from one shit to another...I think you're probably right that Uther Shett is meant to recall Chett, indeed, if we take a look at his description in Winds:

The one on her left was no more than eighteen, and skinny as a spear. His ginger-colored whiskers only partially served to disguise the angry red pimples that dotted his face.

His bad skin is somewhat comparable to Chett's boils:

Chett had a wen on his neck the size of a pigeon's egg, and a face red with boils and pimples. Perhaps that was why he always seemed so angry. – AGOT, Jon V

What is also noteworthy about Chett's prologue pov in ASOS, is that we get this linking of literal snow and Jon Snow:

Snow was falling.

He could feel tears freezing to his cheeks. It isn't fair, he wanted to scream. Snow would ruin everything he'd worked for, all his careful plans. It was a heavy fall, thick white flakes coming down all about him [...] The snow's taken it all from me...the bloody snow...

Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig. – ASOS, Prologue

This makes any mention of snow beyond this point a bit more noteworthy, especially since Jon is referred to as "the Snow of Winterfell," (ASOS, Jon I), and we also have Sansa's famous "drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses" whilst building Winterfell out of snow scene, also in ASOS, (Sansa VII). So, Chett is very important when it comes to establishing this connection.

Ser Targon the Halfwild

Targon is only mentioned once and it is in that list of dance partners. He's not connected to any particular house, all we know of him is that he is a knight and that he "proved to be the soul of courtesy." This detail is interesting because it sort goes against his "Halfwild" moniker — he is courteous in spite of his half-wildness. Likewise, Jon is also courteous, chivalrous and knightly even, in spite of the stigma attached to being a bastard:

They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black...Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. – ASOS, Jon VII

As mentioned in comparison to Ser Byron, Jon behaves courteously towards Gilly, calling her name "pretty", just as Sansa taught him. He also often refers to Val as "my lady" despite her being a proud woman of the Free Folk. Jon also clearly looks up to and wishes to emulate legendary knights to a certain extent, and behaving with courtesy and honour is very much part of that:

They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." – ASOS, Jon XII

Furthermore, Jon has this connection to the Free Folk, also known as the wildlings, having spent a fair amount of time with them:

"The wildling blood is the blood of the First Men, the same blood that flows in the veins of the Starks [...]" – ASOS, Jon I

"Some of your own Sworn Brothers would have me believe that you are half a wildling yourself. Is it true?" – ADWD, Jon IV

Mully cleared his throat. "M'lord? The wildling princess, letting her go, the men may say—"

"—that I am half a wildling myself, a turncloak who means to sell the realm to our raiders, cannibals, and giants." Jon did not need to stare into a fire to know what was being said of him. The worst part was, they were not wrong, not wholly. "Words are wind, and the wind is always blowing at the Wall. Come." – ADWD, Jon VIII

"A wildling. A filthy, murdering wildling." Cregan's hands closed into fists. The gloves that covered them were leather, lined with fur to match the cloak that hung matted and stiff from his broad shoulders. His black wool surcoat was emblazoned with the white sunburst of his house. "I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow." – ADWD, Jon X

I am not the trusting fool you take me for...nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. – ADWD, Jon XI

If Stark blood is also essentially wildling blood, and Jon is half Stark on his mother's side...that would make him "Halfwild" in blood as well as in spirit. And like you said, Targon feels very close to Targaryen/Targ-Jon. So this name is there solely as a hint towards Jon's true parentage — half Targaryen and half Stark. But I think you could argue that the "Halfwild" element could allude to Jon's post-resurrection state as well. I do personally like the idea of Feral Jon™.

Ser Roland & Ser Wallace Waynwood

Like the Royces, and Dolorous Edd, the Waynwoods also bear some notable Stark physical traits, as noted by Myranda in this chapter:

“The first Lady Waynwood must have been a mare, I think. How else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? [...]"

As we know, looking horse-faced, or in Edd's case, mule-faced, indicates a rather long visage:

Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. – AGOT, Arya I

[Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. – AGOT, Sansa I

Interestingly though, Jon is never referred to as being called horse-faced, although we know he has a long Stark face. You'd think that Chett, in the ASOS Prologue would have made that kind of dig, since he says as much about Dolorous Edd? This is why I tentatively believe that, although long-faced, Jon isn't as apparently "homely" as these Stark looking Waynwood brothers:

Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses. Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought.

That being said, I don't think he's as "handsome" as Ser Waymar Royce, or "beautiful" like Ser Byron. But obviously, he's got something going for him because as GRRM says "all the girls love" him, and you know, he's got a good bod probably and if the Giant's Lance cake is anything to go by, as well as all Tormund's small penis jokes...um, well, maybe he's packing, I don't know! (Don't look at me like that guys...it's GRRM not me!)

But anyway! Like you said, Ser Wallace Waynwood is even of an age with Robb, and therefore also Jon:

Robb would be his age, if he were still alive, she could not help but think, but Robb died a king, and this is just a boy.

There is also a teeny bit of Stark blood, though obviously potent stuff, in the mix with those Waynwoods:

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest...it might have been a Templeton, but..."

"Mother." There was a sharpness in Robb's tone. "You forget. My father had four sons." – ASOS, Catelyn V

Shit — "all of whom wed Vale lordlings" — that's probably where all these Stark looking mother fudgers are coming from. So, all in all, I think there's some strong parallels.

And finally...Ser Harrold Hardyng

But let's not forget this bitch.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

Prior to Harry, who notably fits into the Ashford pattern of Sansa's suitors, we have all these Jon stand-ins, or references to Jon. We can actually separate them out into their different functions, though there is some overlap with Andrew Tollett:

Those who reference Jon's Starkness/the Stark Look™:

Andrew Tollett

Albar Royce

Roland Waynwood

Wallace Waynwood

Those who reference his position/location at the Night's Watch:

Because in the Alayne chapter prior to this one, Sansa learns that Jon has been made Lord Commander:

[..] Oh, and the Night’s Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark’s.” “Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised. “Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

So, it is interesting that you then have a number of dance partners connected to members of the Watch:

Ben Coldwater

Andrew Tollett

Morgarth the Merry

Uther Shett

This could be read as foreshadowing for Sansa's future journey north, and specifically to the Wall, where she believes Jon to be.

Those who reference his true/uncertain parentage:

Byron the Beautiful

Shadrich the Mad Mouse

The Three Sunderlands

Targon the Halfwild

All these guys get a dance, but when Harry asks? He is denied. It is only after some A+ dragging by Alayne, and begging by Harry that the latter gets his dance. Yet don't be fooled into thinking this is a win for Harrold:

"Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I’ll be all the spice you’ll want."

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

First off, we have this reminder of the betrothal, but there is a lack of certainty there — "should we wed" — and I would argue that's because...they ain't gonna. Remember all that wedding breakfast imagery, including an umcomfortably phallic lemon (wedding) cake, gift-giving and nod to a bridal cloak? Remember how that was followed by several dances with Jon stand-ins?

"[...] It is promised to… another."

Oh, I wonder who that could be? Honestly...GRRM has very clearly, for those who care to really look, stated someone else's claim here, and it ain't Harry's. In fact, it is the very same person who also evokes Valarr Targaryen in the Ashford pattern.

...it's our boi, Jon Snow.

“Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised.

“Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

You "suppose", Myranda? Honey, I'm certain.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #cappy's thoughts #Alayne I Winds #i'm actually so chuffed with myself on the morgarth = more garth #thanks for this ask!#jonsa supremacy honestly

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spencer-reids-adventures · 3 years

Text

it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing - chapter 8

Warnings: Depression, meltdown, disordered eating, self harm

Summary: Weeks go by and he feels himself deteriorate, feels the thread he’s hanging onto begin to split and fray, and he starts to wonder how this is going to end for him. At what point enough will be enough.

or,

The one where Spencer goes to the psych ward.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 - The Enemy Within Chapter 2 - Errand of Mercy Chapter 3 - Dagger of the Mind Chapter 4 - Where No Man Has Gone Before Chapter 5 - The Galileo Seven Chapter 6 - This Side of Paradise Chapter 7 - The Man Trap Chapter 8 - And the Children Shall Lead Chapter 9 - Mirror, Mirror Chapter 10 - A Private Little War Chapter 11 - Wink of an Eye Chapter 12 - That Which Survives Chapter 13 - The Empath Chapter 14 - Let That Be Your Last Battlefield

Spencer has just finished breakfast when a tech comes to let him know he has a phone call. He takes the phone to the end of the hall and answers - it’s Hotch, calling to let him know the team has a case.

“I think it’s going to be a pretty quick one,” Hotch tells him. “We’re not going far, and there are already some good leads. But it messes up Garcia’s visiting schedule a little bit, and I wanted to run something by you.”

“Okay,” says Spencer, already preparing himself to hide the disappointment of knowing no one will be coming to see him that evening. Sometimes seeing his friends feels like the only thing that keeps him going.

“How would you feel about Jess bringing Jack by for a visit tonight?”

“Wait, really?” Spencer breathes. “I mean, that’s-- you’d-- Jess would be willing to do that?”

“Yes,” Hotch says. “I already asked her. And Jack has been asking about you ever since he got home the other day and you were gone.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth. That you’re not feeling well, and you have to stay in the hospital for a little while to get better. I think it would put his mind at ease to see you and know that you’re okay.”

“I’d love to see him,” Spencer says. “I really, um....” He wonders when he started being so emotional all the time. “Thank you, Hotch. You’re an amazing dad.”

“I’m not sure where that came from, but I’ll take it,” Hotch laughs.

“Growing up in my family, we lived with mental illness every single day,” Spencer tells him. “And even then, it was this horrible taboo subject that everyone danced around. When my mom was in the hospital, my dad would tell anyone who asked that she was ‘out of town’ or ‘on vacation’. No one was allowed to know that she was sick, until my dad left and I went to college and I had no choice but to ask my neighbors to check in on her.

“Her schizophrenia was treated as a source of shame, not just for her but for the whole family. And no one should have to live like that, not ever, and no kid should be raised to look at someone in their family that way. And I know I’m not, like, a part of your family or anything, but I do care about Jack very much, and the fact that you aren’t raising him with that stigma is just… really important, I think.”

He’s a weepy mess by the time he finishes speaking, but thankfully Hotch doesn’t comment on it.

“I trust you to be as honest as you want with Jack,” he says. “He’s smart for a six year old, and you’re good with kids. I have to go, but Spencer -- take care, okay? I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Go catch some bad guys,” Spencer says, and tries not to be jealous.

He meets with the doctor a little later and agrees to try an antidepressant medication, one he’s thoroughly researched and feels optimistic about its potential. It seems like such a small thing, one pill a day to start, but it feels huge, gigantic, overwhelming. The nurse brings his pill in a little plastic cup exactly like the ones they use for his mother at Bennington. He knows medication is hit or miss for his mom, but when it works, it works. He hopes this works for him, too.

Spencer spends most of his time before lunch rocking back and forth on his bed, running his hands up and down his arms, wishing his hoodie still had it’s strings so he could chew on them, a weird habit he has despite what his friends lovingly calls his ‘germ thing.’

At lunch he eats half of his sandwich and pours his meal replacement shake into a cup with ice and a straw, making it easier to stomach, and vows to finish whatever his dinner is tonight since he likely won’t be getting coffee.

He introduces himself to the people he sits with as he eats - Susan, Melody, and Dale. Susan is quiet, and she seems sad like him. Melody is clearly in a manic episode and doesn’t stop talking, but she’s sweet and funny, and if anyone can be understanding about a person’s need to ramble, it’s Spencer Reid. Dale doesn’t say much, but he reminds Spencer so much of his mother it’s almost eerie, the way he talks about certain things and glances around the room. Spencer finds it oddly comforting.

After lunch he meets with Wendy, the occupational therapist. She’s got enough energy for both of them, and she’s friendly and enthusiastic and ready to help. The first thing she does is get Spencer a weighted blanket, which he can keep on his bed or take with him to therapy, although once she sees Maurice the Stingray, she agrees he’s probably more portable than the blanket.

The next thing she does is set him up with some therapy putty, something Spencer has been missing terribly, and a small box with a smooth-cornered rubik’s cube, a puzzle ball, and a few other stim toys. There’s a larger box in the activity room, but Wendy lets him keep these in his room since they’ve been recently sanitized and he won’t have to worry about anyone else touching them.

The last thing she does with him is some yoga. She explains that it’s good for his proprioception, his body’s position in space, which is something he struggles with. She goes through some basic poses with him and shows him how he can do them on his own when she’s not there. She also tells him she does a yoga class on the unit once a week, so if he’s still around on Friday, she’d love for him to take part.

Overall, it’s an incredibly productive day, which is why the meltdown after dinner seems to come out of nowhere.

It’s not really out of nowhere, though - nothing ever is. It’s the feeling of dinner in his stomach, the belief that he’s taking up too much space, the knowledge that his team is out doing what they do best, and he’s failing them because he can’t help. It’s the smell of the soap in the bathroom and the frustration of only being able to write with a four inch pencil, the lack of his books, his routine, his friends. It’s the staff who rotate every day, each tech and nurse following slightly different rules than the last one and expecting him to read their minds. It’s the way today’s nurse shakes her head after weighing him, but she won’t even tell him the number on the scale.

It’s nothing, but it’s everything, and Spencer finds himself on the floor of his room slamming his head against the semi-soft plastic of his bed frame, pulling on handfuls of hair and whimpering, eventually collapsing on the floor as a nurse comes in to help him calm down. She brings him an anxiety pill and talks to him in a soothing voice until he starts to relax. She helps him up to his bed and wraps him in the heavy blanket, and he starts to recite poetry in his head, and that’s what he’s doing when a tech comes in to tell him he has visitors.

---

“Hey, Jack, what do you think about going to visit Spencer tonight?”

“In the hospital?” Jack asks, putting down his toy truck and looking up at Jessica.

“Yup,” she says. “Since Daddy and the team are on a case and can’t go visit, he thought it might be nice for Spencer if we came to see him.”

“Do you think he’d wanna play trucks with me?” he asks excitedly. “Or read something?”

“You know what, I’m not sure if you can bring your trucks, but I’m sure he’d love to read with you. Do you want to pick out a book or two to bring?”

“Yeah!” Jack scurries to his bedroom and picks out two of his favorites, then lets Jess help him into his booster seat in the car. On the way, they stop at a drive-thru so they can pick up coffee for Spencer - Aaron made her promise - and she gets a hot chocolate for Jack, too.

When they get to the hospital, they check in, Jack with his two books and Jess with her two drinks, and they’re led to a small room with a few chairs and a little table in the middle. Jess puts down the cups and Jack sets down the books, then hops up on Jess’s lap.

“Where’s Spencer?” he asks. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll be here any second,” Jess assures him. Sure enough, a moment later the door opens and Spencer enters, dressed in pajamas and a sweatshirt, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Spencer!” Jack shrieks, and leaps at him before he can sit down. Spencer smiles and picks Jack up.

“Wow, you’re even bigger than the last time I saw you!” he exclaims.

Jack giggles. “That was a couple days ago!”

“You must be growing fast, then,” Spencer says. “Probably eating your vegetables and everything, huh?”

“Yeah!” Jack says, and Jess narrows her eyes, but smiles.

Spencer sits down, but Jack stays sitting in his lap, and Spencer wraps his arms around him, holding him close.

“We brought you something,” Jess says, holding out the coffee, and Spencer’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Jessica,” he says sincerely. “And thank you for coming, and bringing Jack.”

“It’s good to see you,” she says. “Everything going okay?”

“Okay enough,” Spencer says, which Jess takes as code for, I don’t want to discuss it, but no need to worry.

“Spencer, how come you don’t hafta be in a bed?” Jack asks. “With the machines, like on TV?”

“This is a little bit of a different kind of hospital, Jack,” Spencer explains. “You know how sometimes people go to the hospital because they have a tummy ache, or a cough, or they have a broken bone, or they need surgery?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, this is a hospital for people who are having trouble with their mind, and their thoughts. And they might be acting a little differently than normal, and they just need some help to feel better, just like the people getting surgery need some help to feel better. But since my body isn’t the part with the sickness, I don’t always have to stay in bed the way some people do. Does that make sense?”

“So the sickness is in your brain?”

“Yeah, it is,” Spencer says. “And it can be confusing, because you can’t see it, right? It’s invisible! And that’s why sometimes it takes a long time to finally get medicine for it. But luckily, that’s what I’m doing now.”

“Is it, um,” Jack says, scrunching up his face as he tries to think of the word. “Can I catch it from you?”

“Nope,” Spencer promises. “It’s not contagious. You’re safe, don’t worry.”

“Is the brain sickness the reason you got all skinny and your eyes are red and sad all the time?”

“Jack!” Jess scolds. “That’s not a polite thing to say.”

“Sorry, Spencer,” Jack says.

“No, it’s all right,” Spencer says. “Yes, that is the reason. But I’m working on getting better. And Jack, you can ask me any questions you want, okay? I don’t mind.”

“What’s it called?”

Spencer tilts his head to look at Jack. “What’s what called?”

“The brain sickness that you have.”

“It’s called... depression,” Spencer says, and Jess gets the feeling that he’s leaving some things out, but that’s probably for the best. Jack is only six, after all.

“Can you read even though you have depression?”

Spencer grins. “Absolutely. Did I see you brought a couple of books with you?”

“Yeah!” Jack says, reaching for one and handing it to Spencer. “Would you read to me?”

“I would be honored,” Spencer says, and opens the book.

Two books, one cup of coffee, and one cup of hot chocolate later, it’s time for Jess and Jack to be on their way.

“Hey Jack, can you throw these cups out in the garbage over there while I talk to Spencer real quick?” Jess asks.

“Yup,” Jack says, picking up the empty cups.

“I hope I didn’t screw that up too bad,” Spencer says immediately, wincing. “I just wanted to be honest--”

“You did amazing,” Jess says. “Really, honesty is so important to us -- all of us -- and I appreciate that you were willing to be that open with Jack about what’s going on.”

“I meant what I said - if he has other questions, he can always ask. I didn’t think we needed to get into the PTSD or the eating disorder or the autism, but as he gets older, if he ever wants to know more… I’m here.”

“He’s lucky to have you, Spencer. We all are.”

“Thank you so much for coming,” Spencer says. “Seriously, I had a bit of a rough evening and this just… it made it so much better.”

“I’m glad. You just keep getting better, okay? We’re thinking of you. All of us.”

Suddenly Jack runs up and jumps into Spencer’s arms again without warning.

“Goodnight, Jack,” Spencer says. “Thanks for coming to see me. It was really nice.”

“Thanks for reading to me,” Jack says. “I hope your oppression gets better soon.”

“Depression,” Spencer corrects, holding back a laugh. “And, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Bye-bye!” Jack waves, and Jess waves along with him.

“Bye, guys,” Spencer says, and that night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

#it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing #maya's fics #spencer reid #maya's spencer whump collection #cw depression #cw trauma mention #cw ed #cw meltdown

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