#emerywrites fanfic

[emerywrites]

Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :) 

 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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

Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.

[fandomsphere]

Hi again and welcome back to the FANDOM-sphere! For this week’s fanfic recommendation, we're doing something a little different and recommending a fic on tumblr, this fic is written by the amazing gale-of-the-nomads and although I’m not entirely caught up, I have loved every bit of it so far. Soulmate Survey by @gale-of-the-nomads is currently at 17 parts and counting.

If you enjoy seeing your otp using dating apps to lead them to their true love, then you need to check this out.

Since I don’t think there is an official summary that has been posted yet, I’ll do my best to give a brief one.

Unofficial Summary: When a new dating app becomes popular due to its accuracy, everyone in school signs up – including Adrien and Marinette. And when they get matched as 100% compatible, things are sure to get interesting.

If you haven’t checked out the story yet, follow this link to a master post to read all the available parts and be sure to like, reblog, and comment to let gale know how much you enjoyed it!

Follow the (link)

[edendaphne]

Commission from @otakuprincess15​ for @emerywrites​‘ fanfic, “The Masks We Wear, The Parts We Play”.

Pure and Shy Bean™️ Marc is chosen as the cat miraculous wielder and partner to Marinette’s Ladybug, while poor Adrien is stuck under Gabriel’s thumb and forced to find potential akuma victims (or as he calls them, “subjects”) for him.

Here we have an upcoming scene where Marc checks in on Nathaniel at his home after the Evillustrator ordeal to make sure he’s okay UwU

[emerywrites]

Child of Moonlight and Alchemy

Fandom: Tangled the Series

Summary: The Moonstone was holding Quirin hostage even after leaving the Dark Kingdom and the Brotherhood behind. It destroyed his life in every sense of the word and refused to let him go. He never expected it to give him something in return.

Rating: PG

Content Warning: canon character death, child neglect

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

Haunted Quirin felt haunted. As more black rocks cropped up, their spikes taking homes and lives, it left him and the brotherhood at a loss as to how to stop it. Then there was their king, falling prey to the opal’s madness. Quirin was haunted by the shadow of sanity their king had lost, haunted by ghosts of those who were impaled in their sleep, those who were sealed in by the rock surrounding them, those that were done in by the grief of losing everything they’d known to these rocks that could not be reasoned with.

Adira took it upon herself to start looking into more mythic ways to combat them while Hector seemed to be falling into a madness all his own. Quirin preferred the more practical solution of moving their people toward the outskirts of their kingdom, away from the rocks. But what Quirin had not foreseen was being haunted by the ghost of his sister. She had tried to take the opal herself in an attempt at her own solution. It was an effort to save her husband and her son from its fate. He had tried to warn Edmund of the Queen’s plan but they were too late. Sometimes Quirin heard her voice in his dreams, calling to him. “Brother,” she said in a faraway voice as he tossed and turned one night. “Brother, go to the opal. Brother, it needs you.” Quirin awoke in a cold sweat. “Lorelei.” Quirin didn’t bother with his armor. The voice instilled in him a sense of urgency. It drove him to do nothing more than pull on a pair of trousers and grab his sword. He stumbled from his room and made his way to the Moonstone’s chamber. The guards at the doors were easily disarmed and knocked unconscious. “Brother,” he heard call from inside the chamber. Quirin burst through the doors. The opal had shed its protective shell of black rock and floated upwards. Then Lorelei was there. She stood behind the opal, looking down on it with adoration. “Isn’t it beautiful, brother?” “Yes.” He didn’t know why he’d agreed. It wasn’t beautiful to him. To him it was dangerous and horrid. He wished that the moon had never produced that opal. It brought nothing but destruction and decay. But then Lorelei looked at him with tears in her eyes. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. On instinct, Quirin rushed forward. He crossed the bridge but stopped at the middle because Lorelei was suddenly there to meet him. He wiped away her tears with the side of his finger. They collected there and solidified into a smaller version of the moon opal. “What is this?” There was something sinister about its gleam. “You must keep it,” she told him. “There will come such a time that you will need it. Until then, hold it close to your heart.” Quirin blinked and she was gone. With trembling hands, he put the smaller opal in his pocket. The next day, Edmund ordered that the kingdom evacuate.

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

Nature When Quirin came to Corona, he had decided he was done with the Brotherhood. He wanted no more part in something that had consumed his whole life and left with nothing but heartache. He wanted a new start. Helaine swept into his life like a whirlwind. It was effortless for her. All it took was a smile and he melted. She was a brilliant alchemist who helped her village in any way she could. Everyone came to her for help. Watching her work was like watching someone create art. She delved into her own world when she pulled on her goggles. She deftly measured, poured, examined, adjusted temperatures, all in fluid movements that were second nature to her. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. One day it was a salve for the Widow Cooper’s joint pain. Another day it was adjusting the components of the soil to make it more fertile. And the next day it was building a system to warn them if a pack of wolves was coming too close to the village. Helaine’s work was never done and she liked it that way. Then Queen Arianna became ill and the king sent out a search for the Sundrop to save her. Quirin pulled on his old Brotherhood armor and went to warn him not to use it. The black rocks would seek out the magic of the Sundrop and endanger Corona. But the stubborn king wouldn’t listen. Quirin went home and told Helaine everything about his past. Up until that point he had been as vague as he could be to keep the burden of what he knew from her. It finally boiled over and he told her whatever he knew of the Moonstone and Sundrop. Then he showed her the shard of Moonstone that the vision of his sister had given him. He had put it on a chain and wore it around his neck to keep it close to him at all times. Keep it close to your heart. “I fear what will come now that King Frederic is toying with forces he doesn’t understand,” he said as he undid the clasp and handed her the necklace to examine. Helaine held up the chain and took in the smaller Moonstone that was encased in its own miniature shell the same as the one in the Dark Kingdom. “This is fascinating,” she said, voice full of awe. “If I could just study the-” Quirin snatched it back, feeling that he had just made a terrible mistake. Of course, his wife, ever the curious scientist, would be enthralled by something so otherworldly. The hurt that flashed through her eyes, made him want to soften his reaction. “I’m sorry, Helaine. But its dangerous. It killed my sister and drove her husband to madness. It destroyed my home.” “If it’s caused so much harm, then why do you keep it?” She took his hand and held it securely in her own. The comfort Quirin got from the simple gesture was immeasurable. “I know that the vision I saw wasn’t really my sister, but whether it was good, evil, or something else, it gave this to me. She said that this would be important and I believe her. This stone is my responsibility now.” Quirin regretted ever telling Helaine about his piece of the stone. It was too late by the time he found out she too had visions from the Moonstone. It showed her how to use magic and alchemy to get something they’d both so desired. Helaine replaced his piece of the opal with a fake one she’d created and got to work. Using a sample of her hair, his hair, the Moonstone and a few other ingredients that took her a month and a couple of trips out of town to collect, she was able to do it. Quirin came home one day to find her holding a sleeping baby who looked so much like her but with a streak of blue hair standing out against the dark brown of the rest of it. “What have you done?” Quirin demanded. “We have the child we always wanted,” she insisted with a smile. He ripped off the fake Moonstone and held it up. “You lied to me.” He threw it to the ground and stepped on it. “How could you do this? How could you make that thing?” “This thing is our child!” she argued. “The opal showed me that I could use it to make something so wonderful. It was a gift.” “No! Helaine, don’t you see that it tricked you? Now we have an attachment to it. If there was ever a need to destroy it-” “Don’t, Quirin.” Her voice trembled with desperation that sent him internally reeling. “This is what it wanted.” Something broke between them that day. But as the baby grew, that broken piece was patched over. It was left weak but they managed to work around it. The child slowly worked his way into Quirin’s heart. He regretted the child’s origin but couldn’t help the fondness he began to feel. They lied to the village and told them that they found the child left nearby, on the outskirts of the forest. There were rumors and questions that slowly died out over the years. The boy fell just as deeply in love with science and alchemy as Helaine. Though Quirin was happy to see that he did have an appreciation for farming too. But as much joy as the boy brought them, Quirin felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for the payment that would come for such a crime against nature. He refused to even let his guard down enough to call the child his son. The Moonstone wasn’t a kind and benevolent creature. It wasn’t going to give them something so beautiful as a child without a sacrifice.

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

Nurture Then Helaine fell ill. It was something no doctor could explain. She slowly deteriorated before their eyes, over the course of three months. Quirin and the boy sat by her side, comforting her as best as they could. After she was gone, Quirin couldn’t bear to look at the child. That was the cost. Helaine made them a child by using something as volatile as the Moonstone and it killed her. Watching her die only reminded Quirin that the moonstone had tricked Helaine into it to gain a form as sympathetic as a child. He wouldn’t fall for it. A week past that he ignored it. But the continuous, “Daddy, what’s wrong?” and “Daddy, did I do something bad?” and “Daddy, please talk to me!”, were close to breaking him. He couldn’t kill it, that much was clear to him. But if the Moonstone wanted him to keep it close, then maybe he needed to get it as far away from him as possible. He packed up a cart and the boy, then drove to the capital. Quirin walked him all over town, trying to figure out what to do. Everyone was kind enough, someone would care for him, wouldn’t they? Or maybe he needed to go further. The boy may be able to tell them how to get him back home. As Quirin pondered this, he didn’t even notice the boy wander off. Once he looked around for him, the boy was nowhere in sight. He should have felt relief but all that washed over him was dread and fear. Quirin got the attention of a man selling flowers from a cart. “Sir, my son wandered off. Have you seen him? He’s only five-years-old. He has brown hair with a blue streak in it.” He ran around asking everyone he saw if they’d seen his son. It wasn’t until he was asking the fifth person that he realized he’d been calling the boy his son. When someone was finally able to show him into a shop where an old lady had been keeping an eye on the boy, he was overwhelmed with relief. The boy was licking a lollipop seemingly unaffected by the ordeal. Tears stung Quirin’s eyes as he kneeled down to hug him. “I am so sorry, Varian.” Quirin pulled away when he realized Varian wasn’t hugging him back. Varian looked up at him with a confused expression that slowly shifted into a distraught one. “Why were you mad at me?” “I wasn’t mad.” Was that a lie? He didn’t know how to explain something like this to a child. “There is no excuse for how I treated you. I made a mistake.” Too many mistakes. “I hope that you can forgive me.” Varian nodded fervently and hugged him, dropping his lollipop in the process.

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

Truth The black rocks encroached on Corona, leaving Quirin at a loss. Varian had been his child for a little over fourteen years and there was no way he was going to risk losing his son. The Moonstone perfectly entwined itself into his life and there was no going back. He had accepted the fact that he would do anything to protect Varian. So, he pretended that the rocks were not a problem. He avoided them and downplayed them until he couldn’t any longer. Then he went to lengths to move their whole village just to protect his son. But Varian didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know the horrible truth about what he was. He didn’t know that he was the same as the thing causing all of the destruction they were seeing. He could never know. Maybe it was in Varian’s nature to be drawn to the rocks. Maybe he couldn’t help but go against Quirin’s orders to stay away from them. Either way he experimented on them in defiance of Quirin’s words. As Varian ran to go get help Quirin knew he couldn’t let his son go on not knowing. With there being no solution in sight, Varian needed to know what he truly was. He silently begged Varian to return so he could tell him before being entombed in the amber growing up from the rock. When the table was pushed near him along with the paper and quill, he got to work. He quickly wrote down the explanation of only the necessary information. It was blunt and lacked any comfort or emotion. Quirin didn’t have the time to include reassurances and gentle words. Could he really leave Varian with nothing but the cold, harsh truth? At the very bottom, Quirin quickly jotted in. I’m proud of you, son. I always have been.

[emerywrites]

The Ragged and Torn Pieces That Remain

This is the Tangled fic that I had written back before I got sick. Its kinda dark so reader discretion is advised.

Summary: Varian ends up having to face mind-controlled Quirin and the results aren’t pretty. Once the damage is done there is no mending the wounds.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: child harm, PTSD

Using the stun mechanism on his dad meant that Varian had to run off to the infirmary to get some supplies. He needed some of the medicines from there that would keep his dad’s vitals steady for the duration of it being in use. The longer that he had to keep his dad unconscious the more likely it was that there could be complications. The thought terrified him but it had been the only way to ensure that the mindtrap wouldn’t interfere with their plans.

The infirmary was on the other side of the castle and the supplies he needed were harder to find than anticipated, leaving Varian frustrated and rushing back to the throne room. He ran clutching the bottles and medical instruments close to his chest. He dodged around black rocks that jutted up through the floor and tried to ignore the way that the castle periodically trembled from whatever battles were occurring.

Varian made it back to the throne room and burst through the door to find… everyone was gone, except for his dad. Quirin stood staunchly before the portal, his eyes glowing bright blue. A shiver went up Varian’s spine and he tried to back out of the room. But it was too late. Quirin saw him.

His dad charged him with a shout and Varian dropped the supplies in his arms. The bottles shattered and the instruments clattered loudly on the floor. For a moment he froze. This was his dad, his dad who had held him and comforted him, taught him and guided him… loved him. He had never fathomed being in a position where his mind would be screaming at him that his dad was a danger to him.

At the last possible second, Varian dove out of the way. He tumbled to the floor and scrambled back to his feet. “Dad!” he cried out. “Dad, please! It’s me—its Varian! Your son!”

“I have no son!” Quirin growled. “I am loyal only to Cassandra and the moonstone!”

He saw Quirin stalking toward him, and for the first time Varian acknowledged just how large his dad was. He was over six feet tall and was made of solid muscle from his years training for the brotherhood. Varian recalled how he had flown across the room when his dad had pushed him out of the way of the amber two years ago. He slowly backed away, looking around for something to defend himself with. His eyes raked over the room and he spotted the helmet, crushed and useless.

Quirin swung a fist at him and Varian managed to duck. “Dad! Dad, think about what you’re doing!”

“I am fighting for Cassandra!”

Another fist came at him and Varian dodged around him. He ran for the throne room door. If he could get out of there and hide then he wouldn’t have to fight his dad. He was more than willing to be a coward if he had to be. But then hands grabbed him by his shoulders and lifted him off of the ground. They were hands that Varian had only known to be gentle but now they were gripping him so tightly they were going to leave bruises. Quirin threw him across the room. He landed on an empty crate that had held parts for the portal.

The crate shattered from the force that he hit it with. Everything hurt and he was disoriented as he struggled to his feet.

“Dad,” he croaked out.

Then his dad was there again and Quirin’s fist collided with the side of Varian’s face. He crumpled and held where the blow had made contact with his jaw. Tears stung his eyes. He’d been punched before, by children his own age when they were play fighting as young children. He’d once even been slapped by an old woman in their village when he’d accidentally ruined her flower garden. But being struck by his dad was something that had never even crossed his mind. It felt like a betrayal. Varian had to remind himself that this was the mind control. His dad didn’t know what he was doing.

“Daddy… Dad, please stop.” He prayed that the pleading in voice would get through to his dad. His voice broke as he implored, “I’m your son.”

It wasn’t working. There was no sign of anything he said getting through. Quirin’s eyes glowed as vividly blue as they had the moment Varian entered the throne room. There was no other choice. He reached down and grasped at a piece of the broken crate. When Quirin pulled his arm back to take another swing, Varian stabbed the jagged end into his leg as hard as he could. Quirin cried out and stumbled back. He yelled in anger as he ripped the piece of wood out of his shin.

Varian made another run for the throne room doors. For a moment he thought that he would make it. Then his dad grabbed the back of his shirt holding him in place.

“No!” Varian’s heart pounded in his chest. He was scared. He was scared of his dad. The realization made something deep inside ache. “No! Let go!” He struggled and fought to get free. He unbuttoned his vest and slipped it off. There was only a couple of steps of freedom before Quirin grabbed him around his chest and lifted him off the ground again.

Once more Varian was flying through the air. This time he hit one of the tall, spiky, black rocks. His shoulder took the brunt of it and as he landed, he felt something shift painfully. Something was very wrong with his arm. He struggled to his feet again but didn’t know where to go. Another futile run for the door? Open the portal and let his dad get sucked through? Pick up one of the abandoned pitchforks to defend himself with? Give up? Varian sobbed as his mind reeled with option after option that would only hurt his dad.

Quirin came after him again and Varian scurried away, kicking a stray barrel into his path. There was an animal instinct clawing at him from the inside, screaming at him to escape the predator chasing him. It was like a game of chess, with every move Varian made to get away, Quirin seemed to get several strides closer. Then suddenly Varian realized that he was cornered against the black rocks.

Quirin laughed and it sounded nothing like his dad. Varian hated the sound. The mind-controlled brotherhood member that Varian no longer wanted to think of as his dad—couldn’t think of as his dad—picked up a broken piece of wood debris as he got closer and closer. Varian tried to get away, using his good arm to push himself backward against the rocks. As they hit his back telling him there was nowhere else to go his insides went cold. Then Quirin swung.

Varian screamed.

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

When Quirin came back to his senses, he was standing over Varian. His son was cowering against the black rocks, sobbing as he held the right side of his face. “Varian?” He looked around for the culprit. Whoever had hurt his son would pay dearly.

But there was no one in sight.

He knelt down and reached forward to help. “Son, let me see.”

Varian only turned away, sobbing harder. “No! No! Get away!”

He was at a loss. With Varian so scared of whoever had hurt him, how was he supposed to help? “It’s me. It’s your dad. I’m here to help you.”

Quirin tried to reach for him again but Varian lashed out. He swung his fist out hitting Quirin in the side of the head. It barely hurt but it shocked him into a stunned silence. He wasn’t getting through to his son at the moment. Blood was dripping down from between Varian’s fingers as he whimpered, but there wasn’t a way to help him.

“Varian,” he said calmly. “I need to open the portal to let everyone back through. I’ll be right back.”

From the one eye he could see, it looked like Varian was finally acknowledging that it was his dad trying to help him and not the monster who had hurt him. He nodded slowly and Quirin went to open the portal. He limped as he went and wondered how he got the wound in his leg.

Once everyone was back through, Quirin ignored the cheers and cries of gratitude from friends and neighbors glad to be rescued from wherever they’d been taken. He went right back to his son. “Ready to let me help?”

“Its really you?” Varian asked in return.

Quirin frowned. “Of course its me.”

It took him only a moment longer to realize. Memories came rushing back—fighting Eugene and Edmund alongside Hector… guarding the portal… attacking Varian. It was awful to relive the flashes of events. He’d felt proud of himself for hurting anyone who stood against Cassandra. He’d been pleased to see the fear and pain in his son’s eyes. He wanted to throw up. He’d hurt his son… and he’d enjoyed it.

Varian pulled his hands away from his face, revealing the wound. It was awful. Quirin cried. He had done this to his son.

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

Varian stared in the mirror. Everyone was going to celebrate at the castle. The battle was over and Cassandra was going to be leaving on her adventure. Meanwhile, he found himself unable to leave that moment. His arm was in a sling and a bandage was secured over his eye. The doctor had told him that it would never fully heal. The cut had been deep enough that it had permanently damaged the nerves. It was going to scar but Varian was already working on a salve to minimize it. But there were scars he could never erase. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he wasn’t fully safe with his dad. He had nightmares about the jagged piece of wood coming at his head.

“Son?”

Varian jumped and whipped around to see his dad poking his head into the room. He swallowed hard and tried to calm himself. It was no use. It was clear from the guilt in his dad’s eyes that he saw how scared Varian was.

Quirin cleared his throat and looked away. “Sorry. I was checking if you’re ready to go.”

“Yeah.” His voice came out in a squeak and he winced but said nothing more. He walked to the door, Ruddiger following behind.

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

Varian was riding in the back of the cart as they approached the castle. The closer they got, the further he found himself getting lost in the memory of that moment—the wood debris coming at him—“Dad!”

The cart stopped in the middle of the road. Others on their way to the castle had to go around them. Quirin turned to look at him, eyes wide with concern. “What is it, son?”

He hesitated, breath coming in gasps as he tried to figure out why he had called out for his dad.

“Varian?” His dad’s voice was surprisingly steady. It shouldn’t have been surprising though. In the three days since the battle with Zhan Tiri his dad had had to quickly adapt to Varian’s nightmares, flashbacks, and mood swings. Varian was pretty sure that Quirin’s guilt had a lot to do with his ever-enduring patience.

It took another minute before Varian figured out what it was, he wanted. “I don’t want to go to the celebration.” He climbed out of the back of the cart, careful to not aggravate his arm. “You go ahead. I think I need some time alone.”

“Are you sure? We can go home.”

“I’m sure. I want to walk around for a bit and see how the rebuilding is coming along.”

Quirin sighed. “Okay. I’ll come to check on you in an hour.”

He forced a smile and waved with his good hand. “Sounds good.”

When his dad was out of sight Varian walked into town. It was completely deserted as Coronans were heading to the castle. He went to sit down on the edge of the fountain that stood in the middle of town. It was calming to listen to the rushing water, even letting his fingertips dip in for a moment. But then he caught his reflection in it.

He tried to slow his breathing but it only got worse as his breaths turned into sobs and he doubled over. Why couldn’t he just be happy that it was all over? Why couldn’t he force himself to push away that memory?

“Why am I the only one with lasting damage?”

He knew the answer to his own question of course. He wasn’t on the battlefield when they were fighting Zhan Tiri. He stayed in the throne room with his father watching over him. None of the incantations reached them. While that meant the decay incantation didn’t touch them, it also meant he couldn’t get the benefit of the healing one. So, his injuries remained, terrible reminders of just how cruel fate could be.

The sound of a horse’s hooves hitting the ground in a slow, steady pattern caused him to look up. It was Fidella carrying Cassandra who was too busy looking around at the buildings to notice the lone figure sitting at the fountain.

Varian got to his feet and thought about bolting. He didn’t want to see her. He’d thought with her leaving it would be easy to avoid. But then their eyes met.

Cassandra lightly pulled on the reins with a soft “Woah.” Fidella came to a halt and she climbed down.

“Hey, Varian.” Her voice was small, sounding nothing like her.

He looked away, swallowing hard. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to pretend that she hadn’t caused him the worst pain imaginable, that she hadn’t caused a permanent rift between him and his father, that she hadn’t ruined his life?

“Hey.”

She took a step forward and reached out to touch his shoulder. Fortunately, she thought better of it and let her hand fall short of making contact. “I’m sorry.” She paused and let out a wry laugh. “That sounds so stupid. Sorry? I hurt you so badly. I… I don’t know what I could possibly say, Varian. I just… I am so sorry.”

His good hand clenched into a fist at his side. It did sound stupid. She put his dad under mind control and made him into a puppet that was willing to attack his own son… all for Cassandra. “I tried to help you,” he began. It was a simple statement but one that he wanted to make sure she heard and internalized. He hadn’t been willing to give up on her in the beginning. He’d cared about her and didn’t want things to go as far as she had taken them.

“I reached out to you.” His voice was getting progressively louder now. He wasn’t meaning to, but something inside him was building, some emotion that he couldn’t place. It wasn’t exactly anger or hurt or sadness. “I was the one person who understood!” He was shouting. His voice echoed in the empty street. It felt good. She was the one person he could blame and this time he wasn’t just trying to push the blame off of himself. He’d done nothing wrong. “You made my dad hurt me! He never did anything to you! And now… Now we can’t even look at each other. I flinch every time he comes near me.”

Tears were running down her face. Varian wanted to feel righteous. She felt bad and it was only fair that she did. It didn’t change anything though. Why couldn’t finally saying it all out loud fix it?

“I have nightmares about it—about him hurting me!” More. Maybe if he yelled some more, something inside him would change. Maybe then he could place what he was feeling. “My eye is never going to heal! My dad is broken because of you! Nothing is going to be the same for me!” Truth after truth came tumbling out and maybe it wasn’t just one emotion, maybe it was all of them mixed up together: anger, pain, humiliation, hatred…

Cass was sobbing into her hands. But it wasn’t working. He was crying now too. The tears from his good eye were running down his cheek but the tears from his other eye were just dampening the bandage. He’d have to change it when he got home.

“I just want my life back!” He wasn’t shouting, now he was screaming. Were the words even words anymore? “I want my dad back! Give it back!”

Cass was on the floor and her hands were covering her ears. She was still crying and it still didn’t make him feel any better. “I can’t!” she yelled back. “I can’t!”

Varian collapsed to the ground in front of her. He felt numb. Nothing was going to change. No matter how much he yelled… his dad was still broken… and so was he.

Then he noticed that she was wearing the Cassandrium. She had kept it. She felt like she had the right to wear it.

Anger. That was all he felt. How dare she think that she had the right to wear the symbol of their friendship.

He reached out and ripped the necklace from her. She didn’t react except for her eyes widening.

Varian slowly got up. He threw the Cassandrium into the fountain and walked away.

[emerywrites]

“A Son I Can Be Proud Of”: A Tangled the Series fanfic

So I started writing this during all the hype for “Cassandra’s Revenge”. I just finished it yesterday. It takes place after “Be Very Afraid” and before “Cassandra’s Revenge”.

Summary: Varian knew that one day he would have to tell his dad about his time as the villain of the story. But with each passing day it got easier to put off. Eventually, he found that he could imagine a world in which his dad never had to know. Fate isn’t so kind.

 Content Warning: character has a panic attack

Varian was up in his bedroom hunched over the Demanitus Scroll. That was all he seemed to do anymore. As the days wore on, with no sign of Cassandra, he felt the urgency increase along with his anxieties about what would happen if she showed up with them unprepared. The translation was barely halfway done and he was no closer to finding out any relevant information.

This was his chance to prove that he could do something productive now that he was on the “right side of history”. He had tried to help get the king’s and queen’s memories back and had failed. Rapunzel was the one slowly bringing them back. Then he’d gone on that quest with her to stop the red rocks. While he’d been an important part of that success, Rapunzel had been the real hero. He never would have made it far without her encouraging him. No matter what it seemed that in the end the princess was the real hero.

What he needed was a break, and yet he kept going, making no progress as his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. Varian didn’t even notice his head begin to tip forward. The heavy slam of the front door startled him back into alertness. His dad was home… And Varian had forgotten to make dinner. He jumped up and ran downstairs.

“Sorry!” he blurted out as he leapt down the last three steps. “I’ll get dinner ready now!”

Quirin set two large jars of honey on the dining table then pulled out a chair and sat. He was working at slowly removing his boots as Varian ran past him and into the kitchen. His brow was deeply furrowed and he seemed much too focused on his task.

Varian slowed to a stop. He’d already removed his apron that he used for alchemy and was halfway through tying his mom’s old apron for cooking around his waist. “Are you okay, Dad?”

Quirin didn’t reply. He picked up his boots and went to set them next to the front door. “I got the honey Travis promised us.” His movements were stiff as he straightened from dropping his boots in the usual spot then turned back around.

A lump caught in Varian’s throat. It stuck there making it difficult to breathe. Something was very wrong. He could sense it in the tension in the air. He undid the apron and set it on the kitchen counter.

“Varian,” Quirin said with a sigh.

The way he said it made Varian suddenly feel very, very small. It was the way his dad would say his name whenever he had messed up. If asked, he could have recounted each use, tying to some alchemical explosion or awkward slip up that cause offense with their neighbors. It was like the disappointment in his dad’s voice physically weighed down his name as it was spoken. Varian stepped out of the small kitchen area and stood there waiting for whatever was going to come. “Yes, sir?”

Quirin stayed near the front door and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes focused on anything other than his son. “When I saw Travis today, he told me something.” There was a long pause. Varian knew better than to interrupt so he waited. Each moment of silence was like the metaphorical chasm between them growing wider. “I can’t believe that it could be true. He told me… he told me that you did some very terrible things while I was trapped in the amber. I know you, Varian. I know that you would never do the things he told me. I was going to tell him that it wasn’t possible, but… but then I realized that you never actually told me what you had been doing while I was trapped.”

Varian’s heart was racing as his stomach sunk down to his feet. He had tried to tell his dad the truth many times, but the words never left the tip of his tongue. There was always some interruption or it was never the right time. Then eventually it felt like it was too late. He’d been lucky enough that no one had never mentioned it in front of Quirin, so why should he ruin how easy it had become with his dad? But it looked like his luck had just ran out.

Quirin took a step forward. “Please, Varian.” His voice was desperate and it killed Varian to hear. It was worse than those visions the red rocks had given him. Then, his dad had been pleading for his help, this was his dad pleading for a comforting lie. “Please tell me that Travis is wrong.”

And the lie would be so easy. All he had to say was No. No, I didn’t do any of the things he told you. Travis is a liar. I’m your son. I’m the same Varian that you’ve always known. Why should he ruin it? They could go on living in denial and never have to confront the darkness that Varian had brough into their home.

But then he would just be going back to that darkness—embracing it with all his might. He didn’t want to keep living in that perpetual state of lying to himself. The madness of insisting that everyone else was to blame that suffocated any possibility of healing. He didn’t want that.

“Dad,” he started weakly. “I can’t… I can’t tell you that Travis is wrong.”

Quirin scrubbed his hands over his face and looked away. Tears were collecting in his eyes but they didn’t fall. “He said that you-” He paused and cleared his throat. “He said that you kidnapped the queen. That you tried to kill the princess! Varian, that can’t be true!” His voice slowly rose in volume. It made Varian feel sick to hear how distraught his dad was becoming.

There was nothing for Varian to do but nod. He stared at the ground, unable to keep looking into his dad’s eyes. The shame was overwhelming and yet there was a stubborn part of his mind that was screaming at him that it wasn’t his fault. He refused to indulge it and instead locked it away and buried it like the hazardous thing that it was.

“He said that you took over the kingdom with those Saporians! That you helped erase the king’s and queen’s memories!” His dad’s voice cracked and Varian’s heart along with it. He’d never heard his dad so broken and vulnerable.

He nodded again. If he tried to speak the floodgates would open. All Varian allowed himself to do was nod and watch as his tears dripped onto the floor at his feet. The shame was now clawing at the inside of his chest, like a desperate animal trying to get out.

Silence. The only sound Varian could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then his dad’s voice returned.

“Oh, Varian. How could you?”

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Varian knew that he had to be dying, because his heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. He sunk to the floor as his body was racked with sobs. “Daddy, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Once he started, he couldn’t stop. The mantra of “I’m sorry” continued on and on.

Strong arms wrapped around him and pressed him against his father’s chest. He gasped and sobbed and clung onto his dad.

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay.” Quirin made comforting, shushing noises. It was the kind of thing Varian hadn’t heard since he was a small child.

But his dad was wrong. It wasn’t going to be okay. How would they ever move past this? He had betrayed the whole kingdom and then once he’d finally been forgiven, he’d hidden it from his dad. His father would never be proud of him. A fresh wave of sobs tore from his throat and his dad only held him tighter.

It was an hour before Varian calmed down enough that he was able to pull away from his dad. He sat back against the leg of the dining table and pulled his knees up to his chest. His throat and his eyes ached from crying. He stared at his knees until he heard a sniffle. Slowly, he raised his gaze until he met his dad’s eyes. Tears were drying on Quirin’s face, leaving clear tracks where they had run down to his chin. His dad had been crying along with him.

Varian took a deep, trembling breath. This wasn’t something he could come back from. Everything had changed with Travis’s words to Quirin and there was no undoing it. He got to his feet and had to grab onto the table to steady his shaky legs. Quirin got up at the same time and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I can go.” The words came out of Varian’s mouth much too quiet. He tried again, putting more force into his voice. “I can go. I’ll be gone tonight, if you want. I understand how ashamed of me you must be.”

His dad’s arms were back around him, pulling him into another tight embrace. It was so unexpected that Varian didn’t return it. “Son, I…” He went silent but it wasn’t full of foreboding like earlier. This was different—comforting even. “I may be shocked and disappointed, but I could never send you away like that. You will always be my son. I will always love you.”

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Varian pushed away as hard as he could and his dad released him. Quirin looked at him with eyes full of hurt. “You don’t mean that,” he said as he wiped away the fresh tears sliding down his face. “You can’t. How could you want…” Varian trailed off as his throat closed up and the words became too difficult to speak. He desperately tried to continue but instead of words a choked sound came out. It was embarrassing and pitiful. He was trying to deal with his consequences like a man and he was acting like a child.

Quirin opened his mouth to say something and Varian held up a hand to stop him. Varian tried again, swallowing down the lump in his throat and pushing out the words one by one. “How could you… how could you want someone like me… living in your house?”

“Don’t you dare!” Quirin’s voice was low but stern. It startled Varian with the conviction behind it. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself, like you’re some stranger to me. This is your home, son. I would never kick you out or abandon you. I told you, finding out about this is difficult. I wish you would have just told me. But I am so proud of you for coming out the other side, still being a son that I can be proud of.”

Varian was surprised that he hadn’t run out of tear as more burned behind his eyes and cascaded down his face. “I was so scared,” he confessed, trembling where he stood. When his dad pulled him back into a warm hug, relief washed over him. For the first time, since his mother had died, he felt truly secure.

Quirin kissed the top of his head. “I will always love you, son.”

[emerywrites]

It's been shown the "camouflage mode" of a Miraculous depends on the person holding it at the time (e.g. the Monkey Miraculous is VERY different for Marinette than it is for Kim) In canon, the ring stays the same shape but turns silver when Plagg is out and not charging it. How is the ring when it's in Marc's possession in “The Masks We Wear, The Parts We Play”? (Marc wears gloves so there would be a noticeable bulge and hard to hide, so is it smaller/thinner for him? or held on a necklace?)

Hi! Thank you for your ask.

As far as Marc's ring appearance when in camouflage mode, I was actually picturing that Marc's ring is more of simple silver band. Since Adrien is rich he can have a flashier ring that wouldnt look out of place, whereas on Marc it would be more noticable.

I hope that answers your question! :)

[fandomsphere]

Welcome back to the FANDOM-sphere! For this week's fanfic recommendation, we bring to you a fic focused on the Nathaniel/Marc ship. The Art of Jealousy is a 13k+ word fanfic by Akira_of_the_Twilight (@akira-of-the-twilight ) . And is a must read for any Marc/Nathaniel shipper.

This story gives us some of the best things for a fic of this type. Mutual pining? Check. Miscommunications that cause all kinds of confusion? Check. A perfect balance of angst and fluff? Check. The best ending ever? Check!

This fic gave us all the best excitement and feels for one of our favorite ships. If you haven’t read this one yet, please check out the summary below and follow the link to enjoy this amazing story!

Summary: “That’s great, right?” Marc’s head swiveled between Luka and Nathaniel. “You two can work together.” He hugged his elbow. “All three of us can make a comic book together.”

Nathaniel slapped his pencil down. With agile movements, he slammed his sketchbook shut and gathered up his pencil, book, and satchel.

“Nathaniel?” Marc’s voice came out a squeak.

“What happened to just you and me?” Nathaniel stormed off.

“Wait, Nathaniel, I-” A chair screeched across the floor. Marc yelped. A thump then a grunt.

Nathaniel spun.

Marc lay on the floor, his foot entangled with the chair’s leg, and Luka bent over him. Marc lifted his head. His attention landed on Nathaniel.

Hurt, betrayal, confusion, and a silent plea had taken over Marc’s face.

Guilt body slammed into Nathaniel. He tried to ignore it by focusing on his hurt and anger, but his guilt was a crushing weight that couldn’t be shoved aside.

It could be fled from though.

Nathaniel bolted.

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15850518

[fandomsphere]

WE NEED YOU!

Do you have a favorite fanfic?

Here at FANDOM-sphere we are getting swamped in our every day lives and haven’t had much time to read fanfiction for Miraculous Ladybug. We need fanfic recommendations from you, so we can read them and make a recommendation post.

Please send any recommendations by DM or comment on Tumblr, Twitter, or Facebook.

Thanks guys! Let’s give these fanfics some love!

~Luci & Emery

[fandomsphere]

Welcome back to the FANDOM-sphere for this week’s fanfic recommendation! This week we are bringing you a fanfic that isn’t the usual kind of fic. This story, The Worth of a Foil, is written by Arttrain and is the first time I’ve seen the ship it focuses on – Kagami/Felix. Currently the story has the first two chapters up at nearly 3800 words and it is so promising.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this ship, as it was one I had never considered, but Arttrain has found the best possible way to do it. They have used two of the best tropes: Arranged Marriage trope and enemies to friends to lovers. I am already so excited to see where this story goes, so if this sounds like something you’d love to read, head on over and check it out to give some encouragement to the author. Read the summary below and then follow the link and enjoy the first couple of chapters of The Worth of a Foil!

Summary: “We shall bind the houses of Agreste and Tsurugi.”

Kagami has waited for this moment, sitting across from her mother as the Tsurugi matriarch reveals the contract that has been in the works for months.

“There will be an arranged marriage between yourself and Mr. Agreste…”

Finally, she can be with Adrien: the only one who will ever be worthy of-

“…’s nephew, Félix Agreste.”

…

What?

-

Kagami does not get her perfect prince charming. Instead, her fiancé is his stoic and unkind shadow, every bit as cold and candid as herself. He does remind her so much of herself.

It’s hate at first sight.

Read it here at ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424575/chapters/46227829

[fandomsphere]

And a special thank you to the fanfic author of our first audiofic @imthepunchlord ! Thanks for letting us record your fic, Manynette, for the podcast.