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whumpster-fire · 1 year

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Today in my journey of rereading the Redwall series: Salamandastron.

This is definitely another one in the "In a world where racism is objectively true" category. Look I know Urthstripe the Strong's overpowering anger towards vermin to the point of endangering himself and sometimes his allies is sort of portrayed as a character flaw, but when your narrative includes "one of the main good guys is openly speciesist to literal children that his adoptive daughter made friends with" (to the point of going "I almost wish they'd try something" and fantasizing out loud about the biggest guy in the hare army beating them to a pulp when they haven't even done anything at that point) and then this is shown to be the right decision with no other example of someone making a bad call like this, there is very much a moral of "Urthstripe is right, Vermin Are Evil. Even the children."

And... look. I am trying not to make every single vermin character my Poor Little Meow Meow and Klitch as written is basically Joffrey Baratheon with fur, but I am so fucking mad that Jacques refused to do any of the interesting things that could have been done with this character and just made him Ferahgo's sociopathic mini-me. Because there was so much potential here.

Like... imagine if Klitch and Goffa were genuinely trying to get away from Ferahgo's horde but Urthstripe ruined it by making it very clear he wasn't welcome in Salamandastron. And then after Urthstripe throws him out and Mara and Pikkle run away Klitch actually sees Mara as a kindred spirit and is like "Hey, your dad's a dick who tries to control your life and stops you from hanging out with creatures he doesn't approve of, my dad's a dick who tries to control my life and stops me from hanging out with creatures he doesn't approve of, we should team up and run away from our horrible parents together!"

And it's only when they get caught that he pivots to "Hello Father, I have successfully spied on the Badger Lord's mountain and I've brought you two hostages!" because the poor kid's panicking because he knows what his father does to deserters (and he picked the moment he did to try to ditch the Corpsemakers because as far as he knew Ferahgo's best trackers were out chasing Dingeye and Thura). He's been much too well trained at lying to protect himself for Mara or Pikkle to notice.

Also: Klitch trying to act casual about Goffa's death and dismiss him as just a dumb minion while internally losing it because his best friend was just killed right in front of him but he's afraid if he shows any sign of grief Ferahgo will use it against him.

Also Also: the wasted comedy potential of Klitch as a high-ranking general in the Corpsemakers who is only in charge of anything because of nepotism and everyone knows it including him. The troops under his command have absolutely no respect for him and only obey his orders because they're scared of Ferahgo. Klitch does not even want all this responsibility (especially because he's not actually given much freedom to make decisions himself: Ferahgo tends to veto or poke holes in any plan he makes whether it's good or not because Ferahgo is caught between trying to train his son to be an effective warlord and being paranoid about his army being more loyal to Klitch than him so he actively tries to engineer situations that will lose him the respect of the troops). Klitch would actually not be a bad tactician but he is also mutually unable to agree with his father on anything as a matter of principle, and is trying to find the precise level of fucking up that will let him weaponized-incompetence his way into not being put in charge of anything anymore without causing Ferahgo to actually murder or maim him.

...combined with the drama potential of him wanting to be the leader of his own army (because he's been raised in an environment where power means safety) but also feeling trapped because most of the Corpsemakers fucking hate him and if Ferahgo dies and he's "in charge" his only chance of survival is if there are so many creatures trying to assassinate him that they all trip over each other. The horde is going to rally around some other figure who will have Klitch disposed of ASAP even if he tries to abdicate, unless he overthrows his father / wins a major victory on his own in such spectacular fashion that he inherits Ferahgo's reputation for being Not To Be Messed With.

Bonus Points if he uses terrible non-waterproof rope on Sapwood and Oxeye on purpose because that's the kind of fuckup that might be that perfect balance (and also because he fucking hated them from the moment they stood guard outside and wants an excuse to have to kill the escaping hostages) but fucks it up for realsies when they actually manage to kill several beasts and escape.

Double Bonus Points if he gets voluntold to help his dad fight a duel against an angry badger lord despite knowing just how stupid that is, and figures out that he's basically there as a distraction so Ferahgo can stab Urthstripe in the eyes while he's busy curbstomping Klitch's head into pulp.

Triple Bonus Points if instead of Badtooth getting caught by Samkim, Mara, and Co, they run into Klitch, who is trying to make a break for it while the horde is distracted and copy the hares' driftwood escape. And who, after getting absolutely decked by Sapwood and informed that he's the hostage this time, completely loses his cool and begs them not to give him back to Ferahgo because he will definitely be literally skinned alive if Ferahgo finds out about this. Which is when at least one of the adults present is finally clued in that something is wrong if the little brat is more scared of his own father than of the numerous well armed creatures with good reasons to want him dead who are right in front of him.

#redwall fandom #salamandastron #klitch (redwall)

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the-redheaded-league · 3 years

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Hurt/Comfort Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt HCs

*warnings for mentions of pain and blood and injuries and mental anguish and such

for the anon who sent me the following:

heyo! first of all your blog and ao3 are totally giving me life rn (thanks bestie) and second i saw you were looking for more father paul hc asks sooooo how about some hurt/comfort? (specifically paul being the hurt bc poor little meow meow my beloved and reader being the comfort)

He makes you kiss even the simplest bumps and bruises. You did it once without thinking, and now he’ll offer them up to you like the sad little meow meow he is, looking for a kiss every time.

If it’s something bigger than that, he’ll keep his eyes glued to you while you’re patching him up. From the time the church’s rose bushes attacked him to the nasty gash he got tripping over a crab trap on the docks, you’ve sat on the bathroom floor carefully cleaning up all sorts of wounds. He’s kind of clumsy if he isn’t paying attention, which has led to more patching-up than you can count. He always asks for a kiss afterwards.

He has a collection of fun bandaids that he says he bought for the kids in Sunday school, but you’ve definitely seen him walking around with some of them on various scrapes. We’re talking anything from Star Wars to Hello Kitty.

If it’s an injury that you insist Sarah needs to look at, he’ll want you to come with. He’ll hold your hand as Sarah stitches him up, his eyes focused on you and not the needle. You’ve come to realize that while he may occasionally crave blood, he hates the sight of his own.

He’ll try to be productive if he’s sick because he feels bad for not working and thinks he can power through it, but all too often he’ll lay in bed most of the day. He won’t want to tell you if you’re at work, sparking an “I would’ve taken the day off if I’d known” conversation the second you get home. But you know he didn’t want to worry you, even if he feels awful.

If he doesn’t feel good, the first thing he wants is to curl up next to you all day. He’s the biggest baby when he’s sick. He’ll want you to sit there and keep him company, be it laying his head in your lap while you read to him or curling up with you while you watch TV. He hasn’t had anyone keep him company like this since he was a literal child (we’re not counting Bev and her poor attempt at soup, what was that???), and he’s so thankful for it.

Whenever he’s sick, he’ll be wrapped in every blanket in the house, even if he feels like he’s melting. You’re kind of surprised that he isn’t holding onto a stuffed animal too, until you realize he just wants to cuddle with you all day.

He has some sort of stomach problems and did even before he was attacked by the angel. Sometimes it hurts so badly that he’ll just lay on the floor to try to stop himself from actually crying. There’s not much that’ll make him (physically) feel better, so you lay on the floor with him. Even if it doesn’t stop the pain, it’ll make him smile to see you there.

Sometimes you’ll wake to the real-life manifestation of the “I threw up” meme standing beside your bed. You’ll end up sitting on the bathroom floor rubbing his back in the middle of the night because he needs you there when the entire world feels like it’s spinning and his stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out.

Heaven forbid he ends up in the hospital, but if he does, he wants you there all the time. He’s so nice to the nurses that he convinces them to let you stay past visiting hours. He’ll want you to hold his hand and lay in bed with him if you can. If it’s surgery, he knows he’ll wake up to you there, patiently but nervously waiting.

If he’s sick enough, he’ll start praying. He’ll ask you to pray with him too, even if you don’t know the words. So you’ll put your hands over his, letting him say all the prayers he wants.

Sometimes he doesn’t feel like getting out of bed for other reasons. Sometimes the world feels too heavy, everything feels like too much, and all he wants to do is sit under a warm blanket. So you’ll join him, bringing him tea and snacks in an effort to get him to eat something.

It may take him a few days, but he’s never sad for long. Except after Millie dies, but you keep him company throughout the service and wrap your arms around him as soon as the vestry door is closed and he can break down privately before he’s even hung his black chasuble back up. He spends the next few days in bed and only gets up for Mass, fake-smiling until he can return to the comfort of you. No matter how much he loves you (spoiler, it’s a lot), he’ll always regret not being able to be there for Millie and Sarah. It takes him a while to mourn, but you’ll eventually start visiting her grave together because you know she meant so much to him and he means so much to you.

He has horrible nightmares but can never remember them. Instead he’ll wake up drenched in sweat and tangled in the sheets. All of the thrashing around always wakes you up. He relaxes as soon as he sees you reaching out for him, but it still takes him a while to fall back to sleep.

You’re there when he transforms and/or when you figure out how to heal him, and it hurts to watch. He’s in the most pain he’s ever been in, just begging you to make it stop. There’s nothing you can do other than hold his hand, pray with him, and let him hold you as he cries out in pain. It breaks your heart to watch, but you never leave his side. He doesn’t know how he’d survive this without you.

Whether he’s sick or injured or debilitatingly sad, he’ll want you to hold him. He always feels a little better when he’s in your arms, laying his head on your chest while you play with his hair and remind him of how loved he is and how you hope he’ll feel better soon.

Bonus: If you’re the one who’s hurt him, he’ll give you the saddest look with those big brown eyes even if it’s an accident. You apologize immediately, of course, but it’s still the worst for him because it’s you.

Bonus 2: If he’s the one who hurts you, he’ll follow you across the island to apologize right away if he has to. He begs you and God for forgiveness because he can’t handle seeing you hurt, let alone being the one who hurt you.

#midnight mass #father paul #monsignor pruitt #hurt comfort #hurt/comfort #father paul x reader #monsignor pruitt x reader

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slow-burn-sally · 3 years

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(Almost) Everyone dies in The Terror, and that might sound pretty bleak. Ok... it is pretty bleak, but... each character dies in their own way, and each for their own reasons. Each death scene is different, and evokes subtly different emotions, and are often used to communicate different things.

Sir John’s death feels like a punishment for his ignoring Francis’ warning and for not ordering his men to treat Silna and her father’s father’s body with more respect.

Hornby’s death, collapsing from the extreme cold, helps hammer home the point that the cold is unimaginable in its intensity.

Evans’ death helps further the idea that the Tuunbaq is intelligent and messing with the crew.

Morphin’s death helps support the plot point that the cans of food are poisoned with lead.

Stanley’s death shows the audience how deeply disturbed he’d become, and serves as the catalyst for Crozier’s announcement that they must leave the ships and walk south.

McDonald’s death was..... just pointless and horrible. Hickey should have aimed higher with the knife. I know you’re short, my dude, but come on.

Irving’s death leads the crew to uncover Hickey’s crimes, and to prove to the audience how far Hickey is now willing to go to get what he wants and gain control of the situation.

The deaths of the Inuit .... well... they fall into the McDonald category. They serve to illustrate just how dangerous Hickey has become, but they feel the most unfair out of anyone in the show, and are definitely among the most heartbreaking.

James’ death is soft and intimate and it drives home how close Francis and James have become. It is by far one of the best deaths in the show. James checks out early, avoiding a lot of pain, and dies in his friend’s arms in a lantern lit tent, private and secure, after being told that he’s admired by Bridgens and that there will be poems written about his life. Yes, we all love James, and I wish he didn’t die, but he got a comparatively good death.

Same with Henry Peglar. He died in a private place, attended to by his love, John Bridgens.

Bridgens’ death is basically the height of romance. My bae died, so now I can’t go on. His dignified (if probably painful and protracted) death was Romeo and Juliet as fuck and I can appreciate that.

Collins’ death is another on the unfair list. Poor guy. At least he went out blitzed off his ass on coca wine. His death also illustrated the fact that the Tuunbaq is a soul eater.

Jopson. I can almost not talk about Jopson’s death. Super duper unfair. Basically just used to illustrate how much Jopson loves his captain and to have his heart broken into a thousand pieces before he dies. Lump him in with McDonald and Collins. Poor babieees.

Goodsir. A very upsetting death, but he goes out like a motherfuckin BOSS. His death is as productive and logical and poetic as it’s possible to make a death, and it’s probably among the top three or four deaths in the whole series. He checks out early just to help take down Hickey’s crew. Cinnamon Roll has spice!

Little’s death. Not as bad as it could have been. He at least gets to be with Crozier at the very end and doesn’t have to die alone. But still... poor meow meow. Poor Edward.

Hickey’s death. Just pure entertainment. He deserved it. It was epic. It also has the added benefit of proving that he’s an egomaniac and not very smart.

Blanky’s death. Hands down the best one in the show. Wrapped in forks. Smoking a pipe. Giving the Tuunbaq the world’s biggest proverbial two finger salute. He set it up himself and did it to help save the crew. Bonus: finding the Northwest Passage. Thomas Blanky, I applaud you!

#the terror #deaths #death talk #non-explicit death talk #death scenes #my ramblings #my opinions

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quinncupine · 3 years

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Hiiii quinn! I never realised you did requests but if it would be fine (and also because its my sole goal) could you do a boom boom boi and izubby with having their own cat or dog as a pet??? I'm seriously thinking that boom boom boi would be both a cat and dog person, don't u agree? (Ily lots and don't feel pressured to do this if you have a lot of stuff going on!)

Hi Dorki! I'm finally making my way through my requests and I was really excited to write this one! Okay, hope you like it!

Quinns Masterlist

Wanna request something?

The Boys with Pets

Word Count: 1,750

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo!

Warnings: dogs, cats, cursing

Izuku Midoriya

Now Izuku loves pretty much all animals, but I can totally see him getting a dog. Dogs are loyal and full of energy just like a certain green-haired hero. The perfect duo.

He would probably rescue one from the pound, the one with the biggest, saddest, cutest eyes because how could he not? But someone has to go with him because he'd try to rescue them all if there was no one there to stop him. Once a hero, always a hero I suppose.

I'm thinking for names, he would definitely pick a name that reflects his favorite heroes. Don't be surprised if he names his dog something super cheesy like Mighty or Rocky…

Wait, okay, I've decided, he names his dog Mighty and that is the hill I will die on.

The life of a hero is quite busy so when he goes off on long missions, he drops the dog off at his mom's house. Inko has fallen in love with this sweet pup, so much so that she sometimes begs him to stop by with the dog for a visit. It's the closest thing she's got to grandbabies at the moment, she'll take what she can get :)

Now, this cute pup draws in the attention of just about everyone so he's gotten an influx of attention and a few numbers slipped in his hand during their walks, much to his flustered surprise.

Best wingman ever.

This dog goes on regular runs with Izuku and sometimes even helps him with training. I'm thinking a Collie or an Aussie would just be the perfect fit for him to keep up with his personality and lifestyle. He needs an active dog!

I can see it now, he goes on his daily morning runs with this cute Lil furry training buddy and they race the whole way! A few regulars on the trail know about this and it's become sort of a tradition to cheer the two on as they pass.

...

The morning air was crisp with the slight scent of the coming autumn, the perfect morning for a run. Izuku, dressed in his usual training wear, had a steady rhythm going for the last forty minutes, letting out even, controlled breaths. This was the easy part of the run, a warm-up if anything, and he hadn't even broken a sweat yet. The canine jogging by his side was enjoying the dewy morning air as well, tongue happily flopping out the side of her mouth. The shared morning ritual between man and man's best friend: Mighty.

Her tail picked up speed, wagging uncontrollably as they neared the bend where the giant jagged rock towered over the path. It was the place marker to start the race. A three-mile run to the top of the hill located at the center of the park. It was also Mighty's favorite part of the morning.

"Ready girl?" Izuku grinned down at the ecstatic dog who barked in reply.

The instant the two of them passed the big rock, they both broke out in full speed, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Happy barks filled the air as she gained the upper hand. Izuku laughed as the dog turned to look back at him lagging behind her. He always did these races without his quirk to assist him. It was only fair and it helped him work on his natural stamina in case he was ever in a situation where he couldn't use his quirk. Always good to be prepared.

He watched as she bounded up the first steep hill on the trail. There were a few small hills on this route, but this one was the hardest to climb and Mighty had the advantage with her four legs so she always managed to pull ahead first. She stopped at the top and barked him on before quickly disappearing over the crest.

When he reached the top, he stopped for just a second to take in his surroundings. This part of the park was a heavily wooded area with numerous trails that many people used to hike or run. It also served as a great view of the city skyline and he couldn't help but stop and admire the rising sun from between the foggy buildings every time. Then Mighty barked to pull him out of his thoughts.

"It's not over yet!" He called after her and raced down the hill, putting on an extra burst of speed to easily close the distance.

Tail wagging, she nipped playfully at his feet as they sprinted along the path, side by side. There weren't many people out this early so he usually had the trail to himself. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, the leaves crunching under feet and paws, Mighty barking beside him, and his own unrestrained glee as they ran together.

These were the mornings he loved. Just the two of them, away from the stresses that came with pro-hero work. He wouldn't trade being a hero for anything, but sometimes it got to be too much so coming here to clear his mind with a little run was always a cathartic release, only made better by the furry companion by his side.

The short bridge that arched over the creek signaled the last mile. Getting more serious, Izuku pulled ahead of Mighty, not able to hold back the giant grin as he streaked across the bridge, startling a few birds off the railings which Mighty barked at as she came up behind him.

Up ahead was a large open meadow with a small duck pond near the center. A few benches were scattered about the path and he saw the same elderly couple sitting in their usual spot with a bag of rice and seed to feed the plethora of ducks waddling around their feet.

"You got him this time Mighty!" The old man looked up as the two of them zipped down the path towards the couple.

"Show 'em what girls can do!" The woman cracked a smile, waving her hands.

"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Fujino!" Izuku waved as he passed. "Don't count me out yet!"

Mighty barked her greeting and took a detour, herding some ducks closer to the couple then with a quick lick to Mr. Fujino's hand, she sprinted back to catch up to Izuku.

The Fujino's marked the last leg of the race. The only thing left was to climb the top of the largest hill in the park to the old oak tree at the top. That was the finishing line. It was always a gamble as to who finished first every day, but Mighty sure had a competitive spirit.

Izuku pumped his legs as he steadily made his way up to the dirt trail, Mighty just behind him before she suddenly veered left and disappeared into the shrubbery. He was so focused on the tree that slowly came into view just around the curve as he neared the top that he didn't notice.

Just as the path leveled out, almost to the finish line, he glanced back to see no sign of his dog. The tree was a few feet away when a furry mass ambushed him from the side, knocking him clean off his feet. The pro hero landed in the grass with a heavy Oof. Sitting on his chest was Mighty, looking quite proud of herself.

"Cheater!" He laughed, trying his best to hold back the slobbery licks she was determined to give him. "Okay, okay, I'll call it a tie!"

Katsuki Bakugo

Now Katsuki on the other hand would totally be a cat person. Not that he has anything against dogs, but cats are more his style. They don't need constant attention and are pretty much self-sufficient. Just the way he likes it.

That being said, Katuski would go all out on toys and the latest gizmos to take care of his cat. Has a self-cleaning litter box, a waterfall bowl, an automatic feeder, etc. You get the picture.

Oh, and toys galore. If he has space, this cat is getting a personal jungle gym that lets him walk up to the ceiling. S.P.O.I.L.E.D.

Doesn't like to tell people just how much he actually loves this cat because he's never been one to express emotions, but this cat just gets him to his core. They share the same wavelength and he appreciates that. The cat is the only one he trusts to open up to, so sometimes you might catch him ranting to the poor thing who just stares back with big wide eyes and occasional meows. Yup, totally gets him.

I see him with a super chill cat, like maybe a Ragdoll or a Russian Blue. Something that tolerates his constant screaming and explosions.

This guy is just as bad at names. It'll definitely be something long and dramatic like Lord Cat Explosion Demon God of Furballs. Yep. He doesn't take criticism so most people call him Lord Furballs, much to his disdain.

Katsuki won't ask for attention from the cat, but the little furry feline is a total cuddler and will often find itself curled up in his lap or even on his neck if Katsuki's sitting on the couch. You better believe this guy won't be moving until that cat decides it's time to move. He's been late to meetings with friends because of this cuddly cat.

He's a hero so this cat is definitely being treated right. Katuski is no slacker when it comes to caring for his lil buddy. The vet is on speed dial should anything ever happen.

Did someone say a custom-made collar that matches his hero costume to a tee?

He's never loved anything more.

...

"Uh, hey Bakubro, why is your cat glaring at me?" Ejiro asked, staring down at the feline.

"What?" Katsuki didn't even bother to look up from his laptop.

"Your cat. It's giving me the evil eye. I thought it was supposed to be friendly." The red-haired hero frowned, not able to break eye contact with the cat. "I don’t think it likes me."

The small furry creature had lazily curled up in the sunspot next to Katsuki's feet, purring away without a care in the world. It seemed harmless enough, except for the heavy glare it was shooting Ejiro's way.

"Heh," Katsuki finally glanced down and crossed his arms. "He's not glaring. That's just his face."

"Ah," Ejiro nodded, "like father like son."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!?"

Taglist: @thecindy @peachsenpie @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567 @justscar @kenmaskitten10 @freckledoriya

#izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #izuku midoriya headcanons #katsuki bakugou headcanons #my pets #cute dogs #cats #yes i did name his dog Mighty #come at me #I got really inspired so i wrote lil stories to go with these headcannons #i laughed when I wrote Katsuki's #of course that cat would pick up on his mannerisms while being a precious sweetheart #and that dog is literally just Izuku in dog form so #this turned out so goofy #lol #request

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muse-oleum · 4 years

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The Flower Shop, part 3

Kingsman - Harry Hart x Fem!OC

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3;

Hey folks! Here’s the third installment of my series. I hope you enjoy it! We’re getting into it, finally. Also, I’ve just added another prompt list that you can find here, go give me some inspiration!

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

The camelias shivered in the evening wind. By their place on the windowsill, they overlooked the entire room, with its large bed, desk and the man sitting there.

Harry’s books and notebooks had all been lost when his house was bombed to the ground, so he’d had to start again. Over the course of the past few weeks, he had purchased several anthologies and was still looking for new publications on the subject of entomology.

He missed his old notebooks, relying entirely on the scribbled pages of the battered pad he’d used during his time away.

Harry rarely referred to his time as an amnesiac entomologist as anything else except his “time away.” He was still grappling with the strange sensation of having recovered his life but he wasn’t so sure now, after so many months wishing for freedom to go find his butterflies, which life he wanted to lead.

Kingsman had been his home for decades, ever since he’d left the army to become a secret agent. But before that? He’d been so invested in becoming an entomologist that it almost surrounded him in a shroud of wing dust for the rest of his career. His home was full of them; his head was full of them; and his heart was full of them.

None of his friends had ever understood his passion for the small insects. To be honest, Harry himself did not understand it fully.

His father had been very fond of gardening, and his mother never allowed him to squash any insects he found in his room. Even if it was the biggest spider in the world - at least to the eyes of a little boy - she would just pick it up in a tissue and let it free outside. He had always supposed his interest came from them. But now, looking back on how he had cleaved to his ephemeral friends, he wondered if the root for his interest did not run deeper.

Perhaps he was fascinated by their transience? The manner in which their sense of purpose carried them to their death? He envied that. The whole of the animal kingdom, except humans, seemed to have a purpose. Harry had lost his and didn’t know how to regain it.

Sighing, he turned off the nightstand lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Before falling asleep, he remembered his promise to Rebecca to come fix her garden shed. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. At least, he had that to look forward to tomorrow.

Monday ----, 9 a.m

The chime of the doorbell accompanied Harry’s entrance into the flower shop. At the end of a cold February month, the sight of so many blooms was a welcome start to his day.

“You’re an early riser!”

Rebecca stood at her cluttered counter, snipping twigs off small branches. Harry watched, strangely fascinated, as she arranged them in an elegant bouquet. She seemed to know just where to place them.

“It’s for a wedding,” she said, matter of factly. “Apparently, the bride is fond of forest weddings and decided to go for a woodland theme.”

“A forest wedding in February? Good luck to them.”

Her singsong laugh echoed through the shop.

“Yes, the groom seemed rather resigned, poor chap. Let me just finish with this one and then we can go look at the shed.”

Harry followed, calling after her, “I didn’t bring any tools, I hope you’ve got something I can work with?”

Rebecca popped her head out of the shed. “Come and have a look for yourself. It’s in quite a state, but it still stands. My dad was strangely proud of that.”

Harry fit his broad-shouldered frame inside the small shed as best he could without towering above her. Rebecca caught his eye as he attempted to squeeze himself in, chuckling slightly.

The shed was small, built out of wood that had begun rotting many years ago. Daylight filtered through cracks along the walls and dust shimmered in the air. In the corner, a box of tools, its bright red colour contrasting strangely with its surroundings, was waiting patiently for its next use. Rebecca had arranged a large pile of fresh wood and wooden panels next to it, probably to restore the cracked walls.

“It’s dismal, I know, but the roof is still in a really good state so i’d hate it to collapse entirely.”

Harry gently pushed against the walls. The wood cracked and moaned but it held. The problem was the rot, which had weakened the overall structure.

“I’m afraid if you want it to stand for any number of years, we have to tear it down completely first. The wood is rotting. Best to rebuild entirely.”

Rebecca nodded, biting her lips nervously.

“I don’t want to ask you to do that, I thought it just needed a few repairs. But tearing it down and rebuilding it is a job for my brother; he loves to demolish things to rebuild them.”

A small part of Harry’s heart - which he refused to acknowledge - rebelled at the idea.

“Nonsense, I said I’d help and I will. We will just need a lot more wood than that.”

Wednesday, some weeks later ----, 6 pm

Dropping by Rebecca’s shop had become part of Harry’s routine. Nearly everyday after work, he’d go in, buy a few flowers and go. Every weekend, he’d drop by and work on the shed. He was grateful for the distraction it provided and, slowly, began to acknowledge that Rebecca had wormed her way into his heart.

Harry Hart had never dared to think too much about love. The Kingsman code was explicit: no attachments, no weaknesses. Eggsy and, on occasion, Merlin, had expressed how incredibly stupid and bigoted the Gentleman Guide was but the former Arthur had been uncompromising.

Kingsman was slowly adapting and changing, especially after Poppy’s missile catastrophe. A new Arthur had yet to be found but under the capable supervision of the older agents, amongst which Harry and Merlin, the newer recruits were coming into their own. Kingsman was still not operating at full capacity, what with the HQ and the London shop in ruins, but it was getting there.

Exhausted, Harry shook out his umbrella outside the shop before coming in, tucking it neatly in a corner. It had been a long day: recruits to assess, Merlin to check on (he was adjusting to his wheelchair but threw a few dignified Scottish tantrums along the way) and paperwork to work through.

The smell of freshly cut flowers greeted him and, immediately, he felt better. March had brought an early spring and the blooms were peeking shyly from under their green little sprouts.

Harry heard a commotion in the back room and, nerves on alert, made his way slowly towards the garden. Carefully popping his head in, he saw Rebecca, on the ground, looking under the sofa and murmuring soft words of encouragement. Eventually, a small kitten emerged, sniffing her fingers curiously. He meowed a few times, noticing Harry by the door, and meowed even louder, asking for food.

“I believe this little lad is hungry.”

Rebecca gasped, nearly bumping her head on the sofa.

“Harry! You scared the living daylights out of me!”

He held his hands up, taking one step in, chuckling slightly.

“My apologies. You looked terribly busy.”

The shabby little cat, meanwhile, completely disinterested in the antics of those two humans, had made his way towards the kitchen, no doubt drawn to the smell of soup hanging in the air. One or two loud meows later, a large bowl full of ham and leftover meat had been placed for him by the table and he happily forgot all about everything else.

“I found him in the street this afternoon. It was cold and he was shivering and crying, so I brought him in. He wasn’t a fan of being carried somewhere new and he hid under that couch for a solid hour before you came in.”

“Well, he’s one lucky cat.”

Rebecca laughed softly and shook her head, her long curls bouncing around her forehead. Harry resisted the urge to tuck one behind her ear. Tying an apron around her waist, she made her way towards the stove to check on the soup.

Harry observed her, sleeves rolled up to reveal creamy skin, feet tapping lightly to no rhythm in particular, curls pinned up by a clip, out of the way. He felt his heart give a little tug and, unable to stop himself, took a few steps towards her.

She didn’t seem to notice, absorbed in diagnosing what exactly was missing from the soup. The warm smell of tomatoes made Harry’s mouth water. He could tell what was missing from that distance.

“Have you added basil?”

She looked up at him, noticing his closeness, and a pretty blush spread over her cheeks. She tasted one more spoonful before smiling broadly, dashing out of the door and back again. She came back with a shriek, shaking the droplets out of her hair. Harry couldn’t contain his smile.

Suddenly, as she was taking off her boots, a sparkling flash of blue caught Harry’s eye. Looking more closely, he froze. There were two blue butterflies, Adonis blues, flying around her head. One settled into the mass of pinned curls, the other kept looking for a perch.

Harry’s heart soared. how he had missed his butterflies! Their gentle movements mesmerized him and, unconsciously, he took a step forward. He didn’t notice the curious look Rebecca shot him when he reached up to touch one of the butterflies. She didn’t stop him, didn’t move, as if she knew something was happening that she couldn’t see.

Harry felt the flutter of the butterfly’s wings on his fingers and smiled. Rebecca had never seen him smile like that before. He had never smiled happily, always offered small, sad, smiles. She wondered what it was that made him so happy tonight.

The moment ended when their eyes met, Harry blushing furiously and taking a step back; Rebecca reaching up to touch her hair, her blush deeper than before.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I’ve never seen you smile like that.”

Her tone was curious, not displeased. Harry couldn’t help but answer honestly:

“There were butterflies around your head. Blue ones. I’ve always loved blue butterflies.”

Rebecca frowned slightly. Butterflies? In this season? Surely that was impossible, and she would have seen them. Harry lowered his eyes to the ground, realizing how utterly mad that must have sounded. He was ready to take his leave when she said:

“I love blue butterflies too.”

Taglist: @justawriterinprogress; @tonystrksslut; @emilyyblackkk; the-sea-belt; @flybi91

Comment below if you want to be added to my HH taglist!

#harry hart #kingsman #harry hart x oc #harry hart x reader #harry hart x fem!oc #the flower shop #part 3 #original work #kingsman: the secret service #Kingsman: the golden circle #fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction #original character #original female character

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 6 years

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Happy Birthday, mega-aulover!

Today, we wish a very Happy belated Birthday to one of our amazing contributors, @mega-aulover! We apologise for the delay on your gift, and hope you had a wonderful day back on Oct 20th. To bring the birthday feels back around, the lovely @savedbyyeezus has written a story just for you!

A/N: Happy birthday! I’m really sorry for the almost month long delay. I hope you had a great day regardless…and accept this version of your prompt, I hope it’s sort of what you had in mind. Heavy inspiration from Tangled, other Rapunzel stories, the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and of course, Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.

Katniss began to climb up the trellis that separated her from the tallest tower in the township. The ivy cut into her palms, but she knew she couldn’t stop now. Not while the fate of her sister rested in the hands of evil King Snow, and the only way to defeat him rested above in the only room atop the fabled tower. Nobody knew what resided inside, only that the powerful enchantress Coin who ruled the forest had cast numerous spells around it eighteen years ago to dissuade and dispense with all who came near. The resulting fear of her and her power was the only thing that left the tower unscathed by the townspeople on the one day a month Coin vacated the forest to meet with Snow in his castle.

But Katniss had a secret on her side, a secret only the King and a few others knew: she was half-witch, the first daughter (not son, as many believed) of her mother’s tryst with a mortal soldier who went off to die and left her heartbroken. And she was determined to be the first to get to the top, to find whatever secret weapon Coin was guarding as if her life depended on it, and use it to free her sister from King Snow’s clutches.

As the sweat beaded down her brow, Katniss pushed her ebony braid up into her helmet where she normally kept it hidden. Though she had resigned herself to a life as a boy from the age of thirteen, she somehow couldn’t bring herself to part with her hair, and the memories she had of Prim pulling on it throughout their short but happy childhood. After their mother died, whatever pieces of that happy childhood that had remained in her life were gone forever—the town baker’s wife had snitched to the authorities about the Everdeen’s lack of parental guidance, and the king’s men captured poor Prim while Katniss was hunting in the woods. The story was that she was to be taken to an orphanage, but Katniss knew the truth.

Ever since Coin and Snow had heard of their mother’s incredible powers with healing and potions, they had each wanted to utilize her and her offspring for themselves, and it was only because of her father’s secret shack by the lake that the family had been able to hide for a decade. Katniss knew that Prim hadn’t been whisked off to the large orphanage hours away, even before she traveled there to be sure. She knew that Snow had finally gotten his wish—an Everdeen for his own, one to exploit and weaponize once their powers came in at adulthood. Katniss decided she would enroll in the royal guard, as a young male named Kato, and get closer to escaping with Prim that way.

But while she had been able to spend three years sneaking visits with her sister behind Snow’s back, she was no closer to freeing her. Prim was watched like a hawk, and any time Katniss had been chosen to guard her, she had only been able to slip notes into her hand or spend minutes alone before the rest of the guards on duty fell back in line.

So, Katniss needed to think bigger. And the biggest idea she could think of resided in the tower, the very tower she was scaling…

Just as she reached the top, feeling the pulse of unfriendly magic all around her, Katniss paused. She was struck by a strange premonition that her life would change forever when she entered the tower, no matter what she happened to find.

She wondered what it would be like to be a girl again, after spending so long in men’s quarters and in masculine pursuits of sword-fighting and physical strength. Katniss had always been a tomboy, so she never missed the dresses or hairdos she had rarely worn before she had joined the guard, but now she was wondering what else she could be when her cover was blown and Snow found out who she really was.

Shaking off these abnormally distracting thoughts, Katniss slid the window pane to the side, muttering the one disenchantment spell she knew to rid it of Coin’s protection. She hopped inside and was dusting off her chain mail when she suddenly felt a sharp blow to the back of her head, and she fell forward into darkness.

“Wake up.”

Katniss opened her eyes blearily, feeling confused as her eyes started to focus on the unfamiliar painted ceiling above her, until she looked forward and remembered—

“Who are you?” She asked the blonde woman in a flowing pink gown who was holding a rapier to her throat. This was the last thing she had expected to find in Coin’s tower…

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the questions? Seeing as it’s my knife I’m holding to your throat, after all.” The blonde drew the blade closer with a smirk, but Katniss remained unafraid—she could tell from her years of training in the army what inexperience with weapons looked like, and the blonde’s knotted (and very incorrect) grip on the handle and trembling hands did not signal any cause for her to be genuinely in fear for her life.

She tried to move her own hands, only to realize they were tied behind her, with her arms locked under the frame of the chair she was sitting on. Her natural scowl deepened. Okay, maybe there was a little cause for fear…

“Sorry, my lady, go right on ahead. Begin your interrogation.” Katniss kept her head down, trying not to show her smile at the thought of the delicate blonde successfully interrogating her.

“Well…what are you doing here? Who do you work for? What is your name? Why did you come here?” The blonde burst out, seemingly frustrated and confused at Katniss’ lighthearted attitude towards her situation.

“I’m here to get whatever that witch was guarding, I work for myself, my name is Kato…and I kind of already answered your last question.” Katniss finally broke into the smirk she had been suppressing at the girl’s nervous expression.

“What’s so funny?! Don’t underestimate me, Kato…'that witch' as you call her taught me to defend myself…and I’m not afraid to do so.”

“Then why is your hand shaking? Your grip is all wrong, by the way, if you untied me I could show you—“

“Stop!” The girl screeched and her hair almost…seemed to glow in her anger. But it must have been a trick of the light, thought Katniss.

“Let me think…this has never happened before.”

A small grey cat crept out from behind the bed in the corner and meowed. “Are you crazy, Buttercup?” The girl responded, as if the cat had just said something out loud instead of meowing… “Trust her? Why would I do that? And it’s a him, isn’t…” the blonde trailed off, and ran over to reach for the helmet atop Katniss’s head, which was dented in the back from the force of whatever the girl had clubbed her with.

Katniss tried to struggle out of the way: “Stop, please—”

But the helmet clattered to the floor, and the truth was revealed. Her long braid settled across her shoulders, and Katniss suddenly felt more afraid than she had felt in three years, and not because of the sword the girl was barely holding on to in her shock.

“You’re…”

“Yes, I’m a girl. My real name is Katniss. Thanks to you, cat, for blowing my cover.” Katniss took a closer look at the animal licking its paws, unbothered, nearby. She suddenly noticed the magical aura around it and the life in its yellow eyes and realized how the girl had been communicating with it. “Wait… you’re a familiar, aren’t you?”

The cat smiled, in the way that only cats can smile, and Katniss heard it say: That’s right.

The blonde girl was startled out of her reverie. “How did you know that?”

“Because my mother was a witch.” Katniss instantly berated herself for revealing such an important piece of information about her identity, but the girl gasped and rushed to grab a book.

“Wait, I—”

“Is this her?” Katniss looked at the page thrust below her face. A lifelike portrait, rendered in golden ink, of a forlorn-looking teenage girl seemed to move on the parchment, the girl's hair twisting and her eyes blinking.

“Yes…” she breathed, hardly believing it. Her mother had never mentioned the tower, only to tell the girls to stay away from there and Coin herself, but here was irrefutable evidence that she had been there before and perhaps even grown up here.

The blonde was increasingly animated at Katniss’ recognition, and started babbling:

“This book has always been here since I’ve lived here. It’s her diary. It’s the only thing that’s kept me comfort when…”

“When what?”

The blonde girl shuffles her eyes down nervously, and that’s when Katniss finally realizes: there’s no secret weapon up here for her to find. Just a girl, scared and alone just like her, that Coin wants to keep away from the world for some reason. She wanted to get the girl’s attention, but realized she didn’t know what to call her.

“Hey.” The girl hesitantly looked up. Katniss offered up a weak smile that felt foreign on her face, yet right for some reason. “Now that you know my real story, can I get your name please? So this ‘my lady’ business doesn’t need to continue on…unless you want it to, of course.”

The girl cracked a smile, and Katniss felt a burst of warmth in her chest, and the need to reassure her further almost choked her in its vehemence.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The girl’s piercing blue eyes seemed to gaze into her soul for a moment, and upon finding her words sincere, fill with hope. When the moment passed, Katniss felt the girl had taken something from her…something she may never be able get back.

With that, the girl seemed to shake off her inhibitions, and held her head higher.

“My name is Petra. And I believe I have you at my mercy, so even if you were here to hurt me…you couldn’t.” But Katniss wasn’t worried about the ropes or the knife or any other threat.

“Petra? Are you the lost Princess Petra?”

“What?"

Katniss recounted the story that everyone in her village told, of the far away princess who had vanished from her parents without a trace, the very night after her father had stolen herbs for her mother’s pregnancy cravings from a witch’s garden. Katniss had assumed it was an old wives’ tale to get children to learn not to take what didn’t belong to them, but Petra fit the name and the description perfectly, with her long golden locks and beautiful blue eyes…Katniss shook herself out of her errant thoughts. What was with her today!?

“But…that’s impossible. Coin always said my parents abandoned me, and that Snow was hunting me down because of—a”

Again, Katniss could tell that Petra’s chatty and trusting nature had almost led her to reveal something important to her. “What is it? You can tell me. Snow’s hunted me too…and now I’m hunting him.”

Petra looked appropriately shocked at Katniss’ bold words. She guessed that her keeper, presumably Coin, had impressed upon Petra the grave consequences to any sign of rebellion against Snow.

“I scaled this tower because I thought Coin was hiding a weapon here that could help me get my sister out from Snow’s clutches and let us escape somewhere he could never find us…but it turns out she was hiding…well, you.”

Emotions of sympathy and pain flashed over Petra’s expressive face. But her features hardened.

“No…you were right. She is hiding something here.” And with that, Petra closed her eyes, hummed some intelligible words, and her hair began to glow. Katniss knew she hadn’t imagined it earlier…but seeing in its full glory was a sight to behold. It was like looking at the pearly inside of luminescent shell and the orange sun at twilight all at once. Katniss was in awe, and automatically reached out to touch it, before realizing her hands were still tied. She blushed at her unconscious action, just as Petra opened her eyes again, and her hair returned to normal.

“I…don’t understand.” Katniss managed to whisper after a long minute of silence had past.

“I’m a witch. And I just found out earlier today that Coin is using my power for herself, and now I learn that maybe my entire life here has been a lie…” Petra looked despondent.

Katniss cleared her throat. “I have a proposal for you. But first, can you please untie me? As you said earlier, you definitely have me at your mercy.”

In more ways than one, Katniss unconsciously thought, before she immediately shut down that line of thinking. Petra startled and jolted to action, muttering something under her breath and the ropes loosened. Katniss stood up while rubbing her sore head and wrists.

“So…once my head and wrists recover from your vicious attack,” Katniss winked to show Petra she really held no hard feelings about it, “what do you say we get out of here, and get this whole Snow thing out of both lives?”

“What do you mean?” Petra asked suspiciously.

“Well…you don’t want to live in fear anymore. And you want to find out about your past, which I can only assume can be answered by information inside the castle. And I want to get my sister away from that same castle. So what do you say we join the rebellion, get in there, and get what we need?"

“But…” Petra looked lost at the idea of leaving the tower and everything she knew. But Katniss knew she wasn’t happy here. She could spot a kindred spirit, and Petra was not a girl who had a nice, loving mother who took care of her and gave her what she needed.

“What are you afraid of? What could be worse than being trapped in this tower all your life?” As much as she tried not to feel for Petra, Katniss couldn’t resist her innate warmth and innocence. Even while she was yelling and brandishing a weapon, Katniss could tell that under normal circumstances, Petra would be like Prim—kind and welcoming to strangers, optimistic to a fault, and reluctant to hurt anyone, no matter the circumstances. In her years spent amongst Snow’s soldiers, enduring and experiencing the worst that human cruelty could produce, Katniss knew how to recognize someone good…someone pure, who believed in something greater, even though they had experienced nothing but hardship. Petra let loose another one of her mournful sighs and relented.

“You’re right. It’s just hard to let go of everything you once believed in and knew to be true.”

“I know. I had to relearn everything once my father died. My mother was once a powerful, heroic witch who used her magic to save mortals from harm and heal the ones who got hurt. But her love for one of them, my father, consumed her, and left her so broken that she died only two years after he did. And I had to learn how to raise my sister without them both.”

Katniss had no idea how she could talk to Petra about everything she had bottled up since she was eleven years old. She could tell herself that she was just trying to talk Petra into helping her save Prim…but in her heart she knew that wasn’t true. “But I did it. And I believe I can learn how to defeat Snow and save my sister and change the world if I must in order to do it. Are you with me or not?”

Petra looked into her eyes with something like…Katniss didn’t want to name it. “I’m with you, Katniss. Let’s go.”

After a couple minutes of packing and regrouping, Petra stood at the open window, looking out at the sun setting lower into the horizon. Katniss laid a hand on her shoulder.

“You can do this, Petra.” As those blue eyes turned to gaze upon her, Katniss again felt that thing she had felt before, when she promised not to hurt Petra. The pulse raced in her thumb, and she accidentally stroked Petra’s pale neck with the tip of her finger, causing them to shiver.

Before Katniss could say anything, Petra unwound her hair from its magical updo, and cast it down out the window towards the forest floor. Katniss looked down in shock. Petra gestured for her to climb down. “Well…go on.”

“Won’t it hurt you?” Katniss asked with concern, while grasping at the now-increasingly thick strands.

Petra looked surprised, then pleased at the question. Katniss blushed again. “No, it won’t. This is how Coin gets in and out of the tower. And if we don’t hurry, she’ll be back to climb up again soon.”

At that thought, both sprung to action. Katniss shouldered the pack and hoisted herself out the window. She took one last look at the golden-haired beauty and the grey cat on her shoulder, who both nodded at her in reassurance, before jumping down and into the unknown.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by savedbyyeezus

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 6 years

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The Easiest Difficulty - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent Pairing: jondami Summary: It was a simple choice, for both of them. The simplest choice. Or really, it should have been. A/N: In the same AU as Long Time, No See (where Damian left vigilantism completely). This takes place over a few years, though is not every instance they share on the topic/life stresses (ie Jon’s doubts on being a hero etc) and by the end, Damian is 27/28 and Jon is 24/25. Sorry if this is weird/has plotholes. I just wanted some jondami fluff and shit. They both date other people but obviously not seriously. This is one of those 5x1 fics, but I’m bad at that format so not really haha.

There were signs. Signs he chose to ignore but, in hindsight, probably should have used to escape instead. The girls at the front desk squealing with delight and chattering loudly. The office animals barking and meowing in greeting. Even Zooki, the cat he brought to the office with him every day, sat up, sniffed the air, and started purring.

Yeah, he shouldn’t have ignored those signs.

“Uh, D?” He glanced up towards the receptionist sticking her head in the door. Her smile was too bright, too excited. “You have a visitor.”

“Adopter?”

“Personal.”

“Let them in, I suppose.” He sighed, dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair. His family knows better than to bother him at work. And if they absolutely feel the need to, to call first. No surprise visits.

The receptionist nodded and disappeared, only to be replaced a moment later by a dark-haired man in dirty jeans and an ugly flannel shirt.

Damian’s frown deepened. And he couldn’t help but feel betrayed when his beloved Zooki rose from her perch to go greet their guest.

“…Jonathan.” He grumbled as he fixed his glasses, standing anyway.

“Hi.” Jon grinned, and suddenly produced a bouquet from behind his back. Roses of all different colors. “Happy Valentines Day.”

Ah. Now he understood why the front office was so giddy.

Still, Damian couldn’t help but smirk as he approached, and accepted the flowers. Zooki purred from between their feet.

“Cheater.” Damian mumbled, his nose dipped in the petals. “You can’t box me in with a romantic holiday.”

“I’m not trying to box you in.” Jon denied. “I’m just trying to ask you on a date.”

“And I gave you my stipulations.” Damian glanced up, keeping his face in the flowers. “Have you met them?”

Jon glanced down.

“…Jon?”

“Can’t you just like, put those off for now? For one date?” Jon mumbled, shuffling his foot. “Just so I can treat you for a few hours, for once?”

Damian sighed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Jon kept rambling.

“I mean, what if it goes horribly? What if it turns out our clearly mutual crushing was all for naught because we’re both terrible people and so we’ll never go out again? Then your stipulations won’t even be necessary!”

“Or, we could fall head over heels in love and be unable to live without each other. Then my stipulations would be very important.” Damian countered. “Trust me – I don’t like saying no to you like this. But it’s important to me, so I’d hope it’d mean something to you too.”

A pause.

“…So?”

“No.” Jon exhaled. “I haven’t met your stipulations.”

Damian clicked his tongue, and finally removed his face from the flowers. “Thank you for the gift, Jon. I truly do appreciate it.”

“…Can we at least get lunch while I’m here?”

Damian shook his head, turning away and returning to his chair. “I’m swamped with paperwork. Not to mention I need to start preparations for this weekend’s adoption event.”

“…Okay, no problem.” Jon gave him a smile, but Damian didn’t look at it, knowing it would be sad. “Call me when you’re free?”

“Only if you promise to call me if you are.” Damian returned. Jon gave a bitter laugh and turned away.

Damian pulled at his bowtie. He hated these things. Hated the monkey suits, hated the guests. Hated how fake it made his family, and even himself.

He also hated the inevitable kerfuffle when a bad guy tried to crash the party.

And this night was no different. The only thing that was maybe a little strange was that he’d had enough champagne not to care all that much when a gun was shoved in his face, or when he was shoved into a chair next to Tim and threatened.

Hell, he and Tim even toasted, clinking their glasses together and gulping their drinks down as the criminals screamed for Bruce to pay for their lives.

It’d been a crummy week at Wayne Enterprises. A crummy week at the animal shelter. They were allowed to have this.

The plus side of getting out of the hero life – he could sit back and relax, not waste much energy attempting to save himself. And his brother was probably too tired at this point to even try. Finishing the booze in his hand was much more important than his life at this point.

Besides – they knew they didn’t have to try tonight anyway. Their Super counterparts were watching for this exact moment, and it wasn’t long before the ballroom was being invaded by red capes, and various poorly designed uniforms.

Honestly, a leather jacket? A hoodie? A skirt? And Clark’s was just ugly, no matter how many times he tweaked it.

Regardless of their aesthetics, they were good at their jobs, and quick. There was still champagne in Damian’s own glass when he felt Jon’s arms wrap protectively around him, and whisk him away to safety on a nearby roof.

“You’re safe now, Mr. Wayne.” Jon drawled, watching as his family landed around the city with the rest of Damian’s family.

“Oh, gee.” Damian returned, just as sarcastically, downing the rest of his drink. He saw one of his would-be captors try to escape through a balcony door, and threw the empty glass at him with a well-aimed shot, shattering it along his temple. “How could I ever repay you?”

Jon laughed. “Well, you know, a kiss would be nice. That’s what a lot of the middle-aged women we rescue offer. Even to Kara.” He smirked, stepping closer. “And that’s a payment I’ll gladly accept from you.”

Damian stared incredulously up at him. “Sorry, I’m not a middle-aged woman.” He drawled, then gave a smirk of his own. “And I’m more into farmers’ sons anyway.”

“Oh, come on-”

“And only farmers’ sons.” He backed up a step, holding his arms wide while looking around. “And unfortunately, all I see around here are superheroes, so. Guess I’ll keep my kisses to myself.”

“You’re the worst.” Jon whined with an annoyed chuckle.

“From where I’m standing?” Damian said softly. He glanced over the building, watched the cop cars start to arrive. He turned back just to watch Jon take to the sky. “That title is yours.”

“I can’t believe it.” The old man said. One Mr. Sanchez, a twenty-four-year veteran of the Wayne Enterprises board of trustees. Damian was here with him because of the almost-kidnapping event at the gala a few months prior – his father was having a press conference today to talk about security, his family’s safety and how they’re coping, blah blah blah. The usual. Anyway, in Damian’s completely objective opinion - Sanchez’s mind was starting to go. “I can’t believe I know someone who has a superhero interested in him.”

Tim snorted into his water down the table.

“Trust me.” Damian sighed, keeping his voice even. He glanced fiercely at his brother. “It’s not all that uncommon.”

“I suppose.” Sanchez said. “But still! It must be exciting! Especially because it was a Super, no less!”

“There is nothing between the youngest Super-whatever and myself.” Damian droned boredly. “Regardless of what you and the idiot public think you see in that picture.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Wayne. This kind of chemistry is impossible to fake.” Sanchez said, holding up the newspaper in question. Above the fold, splashed across the page – Jon and Damian talking on the roof after Jon had rescued him from that party. Because, of course there weren’t any better or more relevant photographs of the event, right? “And in any case, it’s quite clear that Superboy is very smitten with you, regardless of what you claim. There are rumours about him, and even his heroics. The biggest one being he is only ever seen in Gotham on the rare occasion you are in town.”

“For one, he doesn’t go by Boy anymore, the whole world knows that. For two, I will tell you the same thing I told the reporter who emailed me about this drivel of an article.” Damian sighed, watching Dick come over to Tim, who was having a silent laughing fit behind his hand. He clearly asked Tim what was so funny, and Tim openly told him. Dick’s eyes shone in amusement as he looked up at Damian himself. Damian hated him. “I have no interest in my rescuer whatsoever, nor any superhero otherwise. Whom I’m romantically interested in is none of the public’s business, and I’d appreciate the courtesy of privacy.”

“Fair enough. You are a private citizen and wish to remain so. That’s why you left the limelight of Wayne Enterprises, I know, I know.” Sanchez waved off. “But, may I ask?”

Damian glanced at him.

“Why no superheroes?” Sanchez asked. “What turns you off to them? Even my mother said she’d leave her husband of fifty-seven years for the likes of Batman or Black Canary.”

“Because that’s not a world I want to be a part of. I had enough of all that Batman and Robin stuff growing up here. That’s part of why I left Gotham. Superheroes are nothing but trouble.” Damian explained. Then quieter, mumbled, “And what if they go out and don’t come home? What if they die in the field? Just because they’re heroes doesn’t mean they’re immortal. Doesn’t mean they can’t come back hurt and broken. And would you like to see that happen to someone you claim to love on a potentially daily basis?”

Sanchez didn’t answer that. He quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

“And I, for one, have had enough loss and trauma in my life. So I’ll take a hard pass on a traumatic love life too, thank you.” Damian concluded. He let there be a pause of silence, then hummed, shaking his head as turned to the door to leave. “No, I’ll take the likes of…I don’t know, a poor farmer from Kansas over a superhero any day.”

The only warning he got was all of his animals twitching their ears and turning towards the front door at the same time.

He glanced up from his papers as he came out of his office. “Wha-”

And that was all he could say before the door flew open, practically knocked off its hinges, and he was thrown back against the stairs by the weight of a body stumbling forward and falling on top of him.

“What…” Damian blinked, watching the papers he’d been holding float around them like giant snowflakes. His focus was slow in his surprise, but eventually his vision evened out, and he recognized the body on top of him as none other than: “Jon?!”

Jon grinned, sloppy and giddy. His eyes were blurry and his cheeks were red. He was in his farm work clothes – an old t-shirt, holey jeans and muddy boots.

“…Hi.” Jon hummed, making no move to get off of him. In fact, he did the complete opposite. Seemed to settle his weight against Damian as he reached up and gently ran his fingers over Damian’s face, along the arm of his blue glasses, glossy eyes darting across his features. “…You know, you look way better in glasses than I ever did.”

“…Jon?” Damian whispered, feeling his own face heat up, just a little. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” Jon nodded awkwardly. “You know, Pop won’t let me grow peaches. I think it’s ‘cause we don’t live in Georgia.”

“What? What are you talking about?” And no sooner was the question out of his mouth, the stench hit his nose. The smell of smoke, of greasy food, of too much beer. “Jon, are you-”

Jon’s eyelids fluttered, and he sighed happily as he pulled Damian’s glasses away from his face, in what he probably thought was a seductive move.

…Oh god, he was drunk.

“Jonathan.” Damian scolded.

“You’re pretty.” Jon countered, closing his eyes as he swayed back and forth a little bit. “Did you know that?”

“Jon, how much did you have to drink tonight?” Damian demanded. He put his hands on Jon’s chest, not so much to push him off, just to steady them both against the sharp corners of the steps. He glanced out the destroyed front door, and frowned. “Oh my god, Jon, did you fly here?!”

“I’ll fly to the moon.” Jon slurred, leaning in to brush his nose against Damian’s skin. And as much as he didn’t want it to, Damian felt his heart hammer in his chest, as Jon fell into a ridiculous rendition of Frank Sinatra. “Come fly with me, come fly, oh, let’s fly away…”

“Jon.” Damian tried. “Come on, you need to sleep this off.”

Jon didn’t break his song, just pressed his lips to Damian’s jaw, fingers curling into his hair.

“Who were you out drinking with? Do they know you’re here?” Damian pushed, but even he knew in his soul it was half-hearted. “I’ll need to call your parents…”

Jon stopped singing then, and just turned the tune into a hum as he brought his other hand up to hold Damian’s cheek. He opened his eyes now, and stared at him in a hazy bliss.

Damian gulped, and hated himself when he felt his fingers twitch tighter into Jon’s shirt.

“Jon…”

And Jon kissed him.

And Damian should have pushed him off. Jon was drunk, his stairs were digging into his back, the animals were making a racket and probably escaping, and his stipulations –

But god, Jon tasted so good.

So he indulged. Felt guilt and shame running all through his system, but goddamn, he indulged. Just for a second. For a few seconds.

Because of course, this was all he wanted. All he’d ever wanted. All Jon ever wanted too. And it’d be so easy…

But no. Because he was out. He was out and he refused to be dragged back in, or involved in any way past what his family forced him to be.

Even for his potential – total, absolute – soul mate.

So, sadly, when Jon pulled back for air, Damian turned his face away before Jon could dive back in. Put his hand against Jon’s mouth, and pushed him back as gently as he could.

“You’re drunk.” He sighed. Jon gave a little whine behind his fingers, but moved back as Damian sat up. “Come on, Jon. Let’s get you into the guest room.”

Jon outright groaned as Damian stood and pulled him to his feet by his hands, grabbed his glasses from where Jon had tossed them, and dragged him carefully up the stairs, into – what he believed was – the wrong bedroom.

“Just like old times.” Jon smirked, throwing blankets towards the bed. Damian snatched them out of the air, rolling his eyes. “All those old sleepovers we had, like when our dads were working cases and stuff.”

He grabbed a few pillows from the shelf, then stepped over to Damian, very obviously standing purposefully in his personal space. Damian kept his scowl.

“I won’t make you sleep on the floor this time, though.”

“I’m not taking your bed, Jon. We’re adults, I can survive a few nights on the floor.” Damian mumbled. “Though frankly, the sooner this case of Grayson’s is over, the happier I’ll be.”

“Well, of course I agree. The sooner Dick and Dad find whoever’s threatening you and your dad, the happier I’ll be too.” Jon snorted. “And no, you’re not taking my bed. We’re sharing.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Jon…”

“The bed’s big enough.” Jon grinned. “And like you just said – we’re adults, Damian. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but I won’t have a problem.” Damian spun away from him, unfolding the blankets and laying them out. “If there’s anything to worry about, it’s you and your…your crush.”

It was mean, borderline cruel. But it was the only way he could protect himself too.

Jon just laughed, though, and as soon as Damian had the blankets settled, flopped onto the bed.

“You wish it was just a crush.” He giggled. Damian let his frown deepen.

“No, I wish you would move on.” Damian scolded. He began to set up the pillows, began debating putting one between them as a barrier – just in case. “I wish you’d let yourself be happy instead of chasing lost causes.”

“I am happy. And I’m not chasing a lost cause.” Jon countered. “Even if we’re not together-together like we – I – may want to be, you’re still my best friend. You still make me happy.”

Damian pursed his lips, and kept his gaze on his task.

“Hey.” Jon suddenly took hold of his wrist, squeezing gently. “Don’t feel guilty about it, okay? I get it. I totally get it. You’re not being selfish, or greedy or anything. You got out, Damian. You got out of the mask, you have a life, you’re happy and safe and stable. You’re taking care of yourself. And you deserve that.”

“…I’m sorry I can’t be like your mother.” Damian murmured, still refusing to look. “I’m sorry I can’t…toe that line like she does. Or be able to have two completely separate lives like Grayson or Drake do.”

“Don’t apologize.” Jon repeated. “I’m glad you don’t. That means I don’t have to worry about you being out there getting hurt. Times like right now excluded, anyway.”

Damian closed his eyes. Jon gave his wrist another squeeze.

“And you’re not hurting me with your choice either.” He whispered. “I understand the ultimatum, I do. And I respect that.” He paused, and Damian felt him look out the window. “You don’t owe me anything, Damian. You don’t owe anyone anything. Not me, not your family, not the world. You always tell me to take care of myself; maybe you should listen to your own advice.”

“Love is about compromise.” Damian countered softly. “And I haven’t made any.”

“Neither have I.” Jon agreed. “In fact, if anything I should be apologizing to you. You gave me a simple choice, and I keep making the wrong one every day.”

“No you don’t.” Damian shook his head, opened his eyes, glanced at the other. “The world needs a Superman.”

“Yeah, and it has like four or five, even without me.” Jon laughed. “Honestly, I’m totally expendable. Which probably makes what I’m doing to you even worse.”

“You are not…!” Damian almost shouted. He stopped himself, though, and instead just pulled his hand from Jon’s. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m tired.”

“Same.” Jon allowed. He patted the bed next to him. Damian silently crawled in next to him, lying as close to the wall as he could. He waited a moment, knew Jon was watching him, then decided to put that pillow between them.

Jon snorted when he did so, and immediately tossed it to the floor. He scooted closer, hooking his chin over Damian’s head as he flopped his arm loosely around his waist.

“You’re here so I can protect you, remember.” He mumbled, like it was actually a valid explanation. Damian sighed, but didn’t shove him off. Didn’t make any move to return any affections, either. They laid in the silence for a moment, listening to the bugs chirp into the Kansas night. “…You’re always going to wait for me, aren’t you.”

“Always.” Damian promised quietly. “Unfortunately.” He added bitterly after. Another second, then: “And I guess I don’t have to ask you the same.”

Jon didn’t answer. Damian fell asleep.

He was just finishing watering the plants on his back porch when the sun began to rise over the tree line. He’d found he enjoyed gardening in his new life, specifically early morning or late night gardening. When the neighborhood children were asleep or inside, and cars weren’t coming and going. When there was utter silence and peacefulness. Just him and his thoughts, and sometimes, if they were awake themselves, his animals.

The water in the can ran out, and he placed it on the porch railing next to his pot of blooming zinnias. He gave a contented sigh as he reached for his mug of steaming coffee, holding it in both hands as he took a long sip, and paused to watch the sky light up in deep oranges and pinks.

Then – his house gave a slight shake, and he could hear things inside falling off shelves.

He turned back towards the house, setting his coffee back on the table as the animals inside began to stir and bark in alarm. When he got in, he watched his pets all rush to the front window, staring anxiously at something in the front yard. Damian frowned and followed the mob, but instead of looking out the window, he moved to the front door and opened it, facing whatever threat it might have been head on, like he always had.

But it was no threat.

Standing in the center of a small crater localized to his front yard, stood a man in a red and blue hooded sweatshirt, torn, dirty and open, exposing a bloody and disgusting white shirt underneath. His ripped jeans had even more holes in it, and he was missing his shoes.

Next to him was a duffle bag.

“…Jon?” Damian called carefully, stepping outside and closing the door before any of the dogs could follow. Jon glanced up at him with tired, sad, hollow eyes. “Jon, are you alright?”

“You were right.” Jon croaked as Damian approached him. “You were always right.”

“About what?” Damian reached up, and gently ran his thumb over the giant bruise on Jon’s face. “God, Jon – what happened?!”

“I should have listened to you years ago. I should have agreed to your stipulations. Then we could have been happy and safe and a family and…”

“Jonathan.” Damian tried again, dropping his hand to Jon’s chest. He could feel the blood still seeping, feeling injuries that Jon absolutely should not have. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want it.” Tears welled up in Jon’s eyes. Overflowed immediately. “Damian, I don’t want to be Superman.”

Damian’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart maybe stop.

“I lost. Again. People died today, and it was my fault, Damian. I wasn’t good enough. My powers shorted out. I was…I was only a fucking human.” Jon wailed. “I don’t want it to happen again. I…I can’t let it happen again. But it was…I…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m so tired, Damian. I don’t know how Dad does it. I…”

He swayed on his feet a little bit, and Damian immediately reached out for his arms. His tears twinkled in the rising sun.

“I can’t be Superman. I don’t want to be. You were right. You were always right. I should have gotten out when you did. I should have given up this stupid symbol and helped people on the ground, like you do.” Jon repeated. His lip trembled. “I don’t want to be Superman, Damian.”

“Then don’t be.” Damian whispered.

“I just…I want…” He let out a tiny sob. “I don’t even want to be the Son of Superman anymore. I just…” Another louder cry. “I just want to be Jon.”

And Damian couldn’t help but smile, as he gently began to push that sweatshirt from Jon’s shoulders. “You are.”

“I just…” Jon repeated. He suddenly glanced down at his bag. Damian did too, saw the zipper wasn’t completely closed. Inside, he could see clothes and books and pictures. Jon’s whole life, more or less. He looked back up at Jon, and Jon was staring desperately at him. He was serious about this. “I just want to be yours.”

Damian couldn’t help but grin even wider. There was no more Superboy. There was no more budding Superman. There were no more nights laying up in worry that he would die, that they’d be separated forever. No more days feeling guilty or selfish, because he was making him choose. No more ultimatum between him and the cape.

There was just his love. There was just his soul mate, Jonathan Samuel Kent.

“Beloved, you always have been.” Damian breathed, bringing his hands up to carefully hold Jon’s face, and kiss him as sweetly as he could. As sweetly as he’d always wanted to.

Jon all but collapsed into his arms, clinging as tightly as he could, and Damian relished in the feeling. Even when their lips broke apart, Damian didn’t let him go. Kept a protective arm around his waist as he leaned down and picked up his bag for him.

He kicked the ruined hoodie into the dirt of his front garden, making a mental note to gleefully burn the thing later. (With Jon’s permission, of course.)

“I’ll need to find a job.” Jon murmured. “And I…I don’t know how to cook. Or understand banking accounts. And I’ll pay rent, and I’ll…”

“Shhh.” Damian breathed. “Later, Jonathan. One thing at a time.”

When they attempted to step forward, Jon immediately stumbled, and half collapsed further into Damian’s side. Jon couldn’t walk, his leg was clearly too injured. And that was fine. Damian merely flipped Jon’s bag over his shoulder, and slip his arm under Jon’s knees. Jon immediately curled into his chest, arms around his neck.

“May I show you to our bedroom?” Damian asked gently, as Jon desperately dug his nails in Damian’s back. “You look like you could use a nice long nap.”

And finally, he caught a smile on Jon’s lips, and relief in his voice. “Yes, please.”

Damian carried him to the door, balancing on one leg to kick open the knob, then walked across the threshold with him. The animals all began sniffing at the new arrival, but Damian paid them no mind, immediately moving towards the stairs, towards the bedroom.

Their bedroom.

“Welcome home, Jon.” Damian whispered into his hair.

Jon, still crying, let out a tiny laugh. “I’m so happy to finally be here, Damian.”

#Damian Wayne #jon kent #jondami #freedom au #has a name now oops

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annemayfair · 7 years

Text

Parting Ways. [P.2]

@picchar @thatcalamity here’s the ending o w o

[Words: 2,348]

Oran opened his eyes.

The ceiling in his bedroom seemed closer, but there still remained a darkened spot where Rowan’s spell once hit. Oran always remembered it, having stared at it for a few years now. Light painted bright yellow squares as the sunset shone through the windows. He had slept long enough.

After washing off the grime of his tired and exhausted sleep, Oran kneeled before a large wooden box with smooth sides, packed to the brim with pillows and blankets. Honeybun slept, her belly with pink nipples exposed, and ready for the pups to suck on them whenever they pleased. Tiny squealing potatoes with squiggly thin tails rolled around in the box, some of them with eyes still closed. Oran noticed one that couldn’t get on his belly after rolling on his back, and picked him up gently.

“Good morning,” he greeted the tiny pup, kissing him on the head. The puppy made a sound much closer to a meow, and wiggled its tail. “Be a good boy.”

He placed the puppy next to Honeybun, petted the head of a sleeping mabari, and checked the plate right next to the box. It was empty, and Oran made a mental note to ask servants to keep her fed and happy.

Oran didn’t remember a time when there wasn’t a Rowan or a Gylys waiting for him outside his bedroom, with a mischievous look on their faces, with toys hidden in hands behind their backs. They weren’t here this time, however, and for the first time Oran truly realized how bizarre this wing of Redcliffe castle felt without the Guerrin kids in them. He never remembered this hallway being so quiet, with no stomping or running or laughing or yelling. And no barking of several adolescent mabaris.

There was, however, a baby crying.

He made his way to the biggest nursery, farthest from the staircase, and pushed the door open. A tall thin woman dressed in heavy red velvet rocked a crying baby, the babe’s head on her shoulder; her straight blonde hair disappeared in folds of her dress.

“I was told that Vints don’t care about their children,” Oran leaned against the doorframe, crossing his hands over his chest. “I thought you’re supposed to find an elf for every need he has.”

The woman turned around, hushing at the baby and patting his back. Her dark brown eyes pierced Oran straight to the doorframe, but then a slight smile bloomed on her lips as she waddled towards him. Her walk was unsure and somewhat clunky, but that is to be expected of a woman who just gave birth.

“Only if the child is not a mage, unwanted, or a kossith,” she told Oran, approaching him. She then kissed the baby’s head gently, and played with the tiny palm held between her fingers. “He drank dill water earlier, but it’s not helping yet. Tummy ache.”

“Oh, you poor little pup,” Oran stroked his nephew’s bald head, feeling the cotton-soft hairs that appeared to be as light as his mother’s. “Maybe next time eat a bit slower, right?”

Young Eamon interrupted his crying to burp, and his mother hurried to get a spare cloth her son could use if needed. Oran watched her fuss around for a few minutes, held the babe as she placed the cloth around her shoulders, and fondly listened to her coo and talk to the child.

“I’m glad you feel well here, Gaia,” he told her. “Gilbert is a lucky man.”

“He is,” she did not protest, whirling around the room, trying to cheer the baby. “And I’m glad everyone knows it.”

Oran kissed Gaia’s hand before departing downstairs. He wondered into a small inner garden where Ysenda used to teach Gylys about flowers and plants that could kill. He and Gilbert would hide under the bench sometimes, pretending that Nan was an archdemon’s scout, trying to find them. Of course, Nan always won, and the boys cried as Ferelden’s fate was forfeit.

Redcliffe, unlike his Rainesfere, felt more like home. It was built to be a home, despite looming over the nearby town like a menacing giant. Guerrins were here to stay from the start. Oran listened to the sound of rustling leaves with his eyes closed, counting how many bedrooms there were in his new homestead. Embarrassingly small bedrooms with unwelcoming windows and cold fireplaces, low in numbers and uncomfortable, pressed against the Main Hall, were abominable at best. If he ever wanted to have a family there, renovations were in order.

“Finally up,” a voice made Oran jump. “Good evening, Oran.”

“Good evening, mother,” he rose to his feet.

A tall woman in a dark blue dress made her way from the opposite side of the courtyard. His mother remained as beautiful as her portrait above the main hall’s fireplace, but the years stripped away the fresh pinkness of her skin and fullness of her shoulders. And, of course, on her portrait, there are no dark blue veins around her mouth and eyes. The taint did not touch her when she was Nathyara Mac Eanraig.

But now she was Nathyara Guerrin, Victor of the Fifth Blight, Ex-Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, Arla of Redcliffe, and a mother of the Five Guerrins. Her black hair grayed at the temples and whole locks were now always ash in color, and her spiky gaze got muted with age. Oran moved to greet her, kissed her hands, and she placed her skinny palm on his cheek.

“When did you arrive?” He asked, escorting his mother to the bench.

“This afternoon,” she replied, sitting down and fixing the folds of her dress. “You were sleeping, and covered in puppies. I took the liberty of placing them back in Honeybun’s bed.”

“I was wondering how they got back there,” he sat beside her.

For a while, the two of them stared at the sky above them. Oran heard laughter and hurrying footsteps of servants who prepared Gilbert’s study for when he shall arrive.

“How did she look to you?” Nathyara broke the silence.

Oran’s memory invoked the shape of Fenlin in bright sunlight of the day of her wedding. Her white hair, braided like divine halo around her head, was illuminated into yellow of the liquid gold. She smiled a lot, and laughed, and she seemed to be the happiest woman in the whole wide world.

“She was perfect,” he finally said. “They both did. They looked so… natural together. Just the way newlyweds should be.”

He never knew if his tone was too sad, or if his face fell as he spoke. But as he did, his mother’s hand gently squeezed his, and when he looked up at her, he saw compassion. He lifted their joined hands and kissed his mother’s hand.

Then he let himself go. His smile and fake normalcy fell, his shoulders sank, and he felt the corners of his mouth go low. Suddenly his throat was dry. And he shouldn’t have been this way, not on her wedding day, not now, and not ever. But something tugged and gnawed on him from the inside, and this little moment in the garden seemed to be the only opportunity of letting it all out.

And he knew he shouldn’t take it.

“But you were there, as well,” he nervously laughed it off. “Wouldn’t you say that the couple was adorable?”

“I think I enjoyed it,” Nathyara said with a shadow of indifference in her voice. “It was a luxurious reception I wish your brother hadn’t negotiated. Seems a bit too extravagant than both of them were comfortable with. Certainly too much wine and saffron broths.”

She shivered, and Oran chuckled. His mother carried a deep disdain for the red aromatic that she developed during her youth in Orlais. He never quite understood it, but then again, he did not eat saffron for years every day.

Both of them watched the rising wind pick up few dried leaves and carrying them away. The summer neared its end, and soon the trees and grass around these parts would turn to rust color, as the peasants would harvest their crops. Castle would be filled with people and their produce, and even this courtyard will briefly be serving as a brewery. Oran wondered if he’d see it soon.

“You’ll learn to live with it.”

“This is not for long, they’re going to be imprinting in no time,” he tried to deflect the implication.

“You did the right thing.”

And then Oran started thinking. It did not surprise him that his mother, whose intuition was nigh unnatural, saw what was going in his heart. He wondered how she spoke with such conviction and understanding, if she… if she went through it herself. But that is impossible!

Right?

“Why?” He asked his mother in disbelief. “Whom and when?”

Nathyara softly chuckled, leaning back on the bench. Her relaxed pose and a dreamy smile on her lips reminded Oran of family evenings when she scared Rowan with stories about the darkspawn near the fireplace, with their father, hugging Gilbert and Gylys, played along.

Was she unhappy then as he is now?

“A fortnight passed after the Ostagar when we made camp near a stream,” Nathyara began her tale. “I took the first watch, and Rythlen slept curled up in her tent. I prayed for her safety, for seeing her reinstalled as Teyrna of Highever, no matter the cost. I believe my mood was quite grim, and it was easy to catch on.”

Oran listened to her intently.

“The boy Warden who survived with us woke up and started chatting me up. Just talking, making bad jokes about two dwarves in a drag and so on. But it helped,” a smile bloomed on the lips of the old Warden. “It helped to distract myself from losing a family again. It helped to chase away bad thoughts and the dread of failure. And on the second night, as we spoke, I felt a needle pierce my heart.”

“Alistair,” Oran said quietly.

“Alistair,” echoed Nathyara. “When I first saw him, I thought that Cailan simply changed his armor to fit in with the soldiers. You know, to mingle. But then I discovered they were different. Very, very different.”

“Of course, we were busy,” she continued. “Mending a broken kingdom and reviving ancient treaties is no easy task on its own, but we had men and almost everyone run after us as we traveled. But there remained a needle in my heart, a small needle that pushed me to joke around with Alistair. It pushed me to tease him, to make him laugh and blush. But then it stopped when I saw Rythlen’s eyes when they talked. How could I do this to her? How could I put myself above her, and take what she wanted?”

Oran, not controlling himself fully, formed his palms into fists. He knew what his mother spoke of. He truly had been there, and he remained there in a way.

“Even when they walked hand-in-hand and kissed behind everyone’s back, sure nobody saw them, there was this voice in my head,” Nathyara’s voice started to crack. “At first, it kept saying: “Nathyara, you could spend your life with this man”. And I thought I could. I imagined myself in his arms, my head on his shoulder, feeling the beating of his heart with my hand. And then the voice in my head said: “Nathyara, you want to spend your life with this man”. And I did. And when it wasn’t my duty on watch, I imagined his eyes on me, looking at me, desiring me. But that never happened.”

Oran’s hand landed on his mother’s shoulder as he hugged her, and she hugged him back.

“She was so happy on her wedding day,” Nathyara’s voice was barely audible. “Dressed in laces and silks, smiling at him, nearly singing because of how happy she was. And I got to hold the crowns, and announce them King and Queen of Ferelden.”

Nathyara wiped away a tear in her eye, and Oran pressed his lips against his mother’s forehead.

“And then I learned to live with it,” she said simply, shrugging off her momentarily sadness.

“Are you happy with father?” Oran asked her. He needed to know, he must know. “Do you love him?”

“Do I love him?” She repeated the question. “After thirty-five years of marriage, what is the point to ask if I love him?”

“It’s the only thing that matters,” Oran told her.

She drew back from him, sighing. She stared to the right as she thought before finally answering:

“I gave that man thirty-five years of my life and raised him five children,” she said with a smile in her voice. “My desires became his, and his hopes became mine. We fought together, we starved together, and we celebrated together. And never, ever in our lives we hated each other. So yes. I suppose I do love him.”

She looked up at her son, placed her hand on his cheek, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“My beautiful, noble son,” she kissed him again. “Why must you suffer so.”

“I just need to learn to live with it,” he replied to a question she did not ask.

They talked some more, about this and that. But the mood simply wouldn’t lighten up. Oran caught a servant girl and instructed her to keep Honeybun fed. Nathyara reprimanded two men who nearly dropped a mahogany table. In the end, Oran stood up, and excused himself.

“When will you be leaving?” Nathyara inquired, standing up herself. “I assume you’re going to abandon us soon.”

“In a day or two,” Oran answered. “I have a plan for the hold; the treasury keeper might not like it, but I need a house, not a hold. Besides, when else will I have an opportunity to build an entire house?”

He waited for a while, before adding:

“If I may, mother, tell Gilbert to find me a wife. I’m tired of waiting.”

#Fenlin Lavellan #Rahlen Theirin #Oran Mac Eanraig #Nathyara Cousland #Nathyara Guerrin #Honeybun the mama #Dragon Age #2nd Gen #Coon Writes

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keepyourpantsongohan · 7 years

Text

Ayesha Liveblogs Magi: Kingdom of Magic

It’s been like a minute and already this show has escalated so much more than it’s predecessor good lord

What kind of an ominous note to start this peppy intro song on

“Tonight we shall celebrate that triumph” Sinbad loves any excuse for a feast

Lmao @ Jafar just lurking around waiting to let Ka Kaboun have it

“Jafar, have I become devious?” said Sinbad, after doing a series of devious things all in succession

Oh my god Alibaba gave Kogyoku a flower crown that’s adorable

“I never thought anyone would make a move on a woman before me. Aladdin, you are a true Magi” SINBAD PLS

Take a shot every time someone pauses to relive tragic memories

I don’t want to accuse Sinbad of doing this on purpose but I kinda think he exposed Dunya to the dark magic on purpose

OH MY GOD THEY’RE HAVING A SLEEPOVER I LOVE IT

I deeply appreciate Alibaba’s sleepwear and that he removes his earrings

“My, what a charming sight you are” Kogyoku’s a little crazy but I dig it

Poor Jafar he is very concerned about Sinbad and I share the concern tbh

Oh no is Dunya dying iS THAT WHAT DAY OF DEPARTURE MEANS

“I wanted you to know all about it, about my true feelings” is this tragic backstory exchange also a romantic confession?

“I really envy you,” said Morgiana, immediately after Hakuryu told her that his entire family had been murdered

I don’t care who gets together with whom but I want one of these youths to take advantage of these romantic sunsets and flowers and fall in love like give me something to hope for in this society of imminent sadness

Oh shit they’re both royals of low birth I love it!!! Bond my peeps

“You must become my friend forever” I LOVE KOGYOKU AND ALIBABA

Yamuraiha is Aladdin’s mom now sorry I don’t make the rules

OH MY GOD HAKURYU’S GOT PINK RUKH CAUSE HE’S IN LOVE!!!

Lmao @ Aladdin outing Hakuryu’s crush to everyone around them

“I pray that you’ll have a good and safe journey” “Who are you?” Poor Spartos getting called out for his lack of screen time

IS ALIBABA GOING TO STOW AWAY I BET HE’S A STOWAWAY

Update from 10 seconds later: I KNEW IT

Poor Alibaba he was so set for his dramatic reveal but he fucked up

“But now that I’ve known him for a long time, there are a few odd things that I’ve noticed about him” Lmao they know he’s listening

Alibaba do you really think they can’t hear you shouting in the room beside them

I think Hakuyru and Alibaba are going to become romantic/battle rivals

“Next time I’ll do my part!” “Can you handle it?” boys pls

Who is this twelve year old magical pirate with a cyclops baby

Pretty unfair to refer to the people who own the ship as “intruders”

Guess these punk ass kids chose the wrong ship to attack

“I’m a mother to all of the miserable children in this world” I bet she’s eating them or smth

As soon as they mentioned the cliffs I knew Morgiana would be tossing her boys into the air khgdjhjkdhgk

I fucking love when Morgiana goes wild and destroys everything

Hard for Hakuryu to relate to all these parental memories when he grew up without any

Ohm Madura’s magical power: inducing mommy issues

“That means that though physically they’re children, mentally they’re actually mature” poverty, slavery and abandonment will do that

Omg does this mean that Hakuryu is actually the least mature of all of these children poor guy

Update from next episode: “That one seems to be the only one among them that’s still a child” oh Hakuryu

Well I guess that answers the question of whether Hakuryu can djinn equip

Judging purely on the theme song Hakuryu is not going to become a main character and that makes me sad because I’ve grown attached to him

MY GOD HAKURYU CHILL THE FUCK OUT YOU JUST MURDERED A WOMAN IN FRONT OF A BUNCH OF CHILDREN

“My mission is to kill my own mother” what a trope reversal instead of a Dead Mom he’s got a Murder Mom

“There’s no reason to grieve... after all none of you were ever loved in the first place” damn Hakuryu quit taking your issues out on the children

I did not think this romantic confession was coming on so quickly oh my

“That’s why I want to marry you” you’re like seventeen get it together

Lmao @ Morgiana and Hakuryu kissing with their eyes wide open

Take a shot every time Alibaba cries for his enemies I love him so much it’s like his philosophy is ‘if the mood is vengeful burst into tears’

“You’re different than King Sinbad... in what way I’m not sure” why do they keep alluding to Evil!Sinbad I’m not about this

“Isn’t there any way to put your vengeance behind you and finally be free?” Damn so he’s not just Arabian Zuko he’s also Arabian Sasuke

I want for Hakuryu to be happy but I can only imagine Morgiana is going to end up with Alibaba which isn’t bad it’s just sad for him

“Stamina is your only redeeming quality” how rude, Alibaba

Sfhkdjhgfkjghfdkhg these flashes showing that Hakuryu is loyal af and Alibaba is a hoe are hilarious

Alibaba has no idea how to coordinate jewelry lmao

Why is everyone from the Kou empire so goddamn crazy good lord

Take a shot every time someone under the age of 15 witnesses a murder

“I want you to mess me up too” Kinkshame Kouha’s consorts

Me @ Aladdin collapsing after a single pull-up: .... same

Sphinctus: Pay! Attention! To! Me!

ALADDIN FELL ASLEEP DURING SOMEONE’S TRAGIC BACKSTORY... TWICE

“Thank you... Instructor’s Boobs” what on earth is this show honestly

“When you guys first got here, you were just a bunch of ignorant losers. But not anymore... Today, you guys are self-aware losers” ..... same

Alibaba just fucking ends up passed out in the streets when left to his own devices my darling disaster

This fight is lit I love my boy battling in the middle of a casino lmao

Is this meant to imply that Cassim bestowed his magoi onto Alibaba as he died like what kind of loyalty does this boy inspire 10/10 world’s Best Boy

Why are all these people so messed up there’s a death chant like every few episodes

“Are you alright?” he said, after watching Alibaba almost die several times and not doing a damn thing

I can’t wait for Alibaba to take back Balbaad

Morgianna should really have more questions about the mysterious all-knowing stranger in the cave willing to take her on a one-way trip across the void

So I take it that these past six months have not gone well for Hakuryu

“there can only be one ruler, not just for this country, but for the world” like a minute of screen time and Kouen’s already talking world domination

“From father to son just like that” this family circle is way too close these kids are siblings and also cousins now the mom seems to be hitting on her son it’s all very yikes

Is Hakuyru seriously supporting his mom’s bid for the throne just so he can depose her what a mess

I’m loving all of Hakuryu’s dramatic actions being accompanied by lightning

This dude looks almost exactly like Sheherazade how many magi are at this school exactly

“[...] Will be granted the honour of second-class citizenship” oh Aladdin

“You and I are cut from the same cloth that’s a very special thing” okay Anime Malfoy I wonder how this exchange with the equality-minded protagonist is going to go

“I thought for sure you were a girl under there” I’ll admit it, that’s not how I thought this exchange was going to go

Whoops I guess when you’re dependent on a thin piece of cloth to hide your biggest secret things might not go in your favour during battles

“One of the four magis who is not supposed to exist” wait what homie

“The magi and I have reached an accord” Titus has known Aladdin’s secret for one (1) night and already he’s dropping it in casual conversation

“Back home the engine that drives industry is the accepted use of forced labour” these call-outs are near constant

Titus highkey adores cats and babies and I appreciate it

Omg Titus just called his employer just to tell her about his amazing day meowing at cats I love him

Damn I should’ve known something like this would be going on I was sort of just expecting run of the mill corruption and abuse not using-people’s-lifeforce-to-power-their-lifestyles

“Oh yes, yes it would” Titus has known this girl for five minutes and he’s already ready to adopt her

Titus decided to liberate 200,000 people from enslavement even though his mission is to study them bless him

“You came here to study, not be a freedom fighter” but he wants 2 do both

Aladdin’s ready to fight at the slightest provocation and like same

Your narrative of overthrowing oppression is really undermined by referring to the masses in the same way you claim that other nobility referred to you

“The breed possessing sharper intelligence and higher reasoning should control those who don’t” so it’s not only a fascist state it’s also proposing eugenics we’ve reached full on wizard nazis

“I’m so happy for you Titus” why does Mogamett ruin every happy moment by being gross

How is Titus planning on continuing his studies while he raises a six-year-old full-time are there nannies in this school

“We will be together forever, I give you my promise” well now I’m worried that Marga’s gonna die

I’m guessing Titus is some kind of copy of Sheherazade not meant to be permanent so that’s why he’s not meant to last

“I don’t want my life to end yet” I’m guessing Titus is about to make a mistake

“No matter who he is, no human must ever be granted the powers of a king” now would be a good time to cut to Alibaba

[Donald T/rump voice] Make the Empire Magic Again

Call me crazy but I’m guessing the handsome one is the person they’re going to focus on as a potential king

Things have escalated really quickly like four episodes ago they were having fun times in the market and now they’re at war

I’m guessing the ominous prologue is about to come to fruition

“Ours is not a society built on oppression,” he said, while literally standing on ground built above the bodies of indentured labourers

Sheherazade is defeating her enemies through science what a plot twist

Are these two just having an ongoing magical phone call while their armies attack each other

Don’t get me wrong I want to know where this plot goes but I also want to see Alibaba’s training montage and see what Morgiana decided

“You’re an abomination that should never have been born in the first place” Mu is defeating Titus by blows to the self-esteem

Aladdin’s trying to stop a war single-handedly bless his heart

“I never thought about just asking them nicely” Aladdin <333333333

Why is Mu’s djinn equip the only one which changes the user’s ethnicity

“He’s my friend, my best friend” ALIBABA MY LOVE IS HERE AND MY BABIES ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THEIR BOND

What a weird tone for these armistice talks. On a boat during a beautiful sunset with a bunch of teenage boys

Is Sheherazade the only Magi that can reproduce because she’s a lady

I LOVE THIS TROPE OF GIVING A HEAD BOP EVERY TIME SOMEONE TRIES TO STUBBORNLY TAKE ON ALL THEIR OWN BURDENS

“I acted as if you were a just a toy for me to play with, but I knew no other way to express my love for you” that’s no excuse for bad parenting Sheherazade

Mogamett needs to chill the fuck out good lord

“My fall into depravity is guaranteed” I mean same but calm down

Alibaba during literally every battle: How can I make this about Cassim

“I’ve had my fill of heartbreakers” Slutshame metal vessel users

Look at my fancy boy with his pants on fire good for Alibaba

I think this is the first time Alibaba has referred to himself as a Prince of Balbaad since its fall

“She is much more of an adult than I will ever be” TITUS DON’T DO IT

“Mr. Director, sir, you shall always have my respect,” said Titus, while speaking to a man who is operating a weapon of mass destruction against hundreds of thousands of people using human lives

OH NO TITUS WHY HE DOESN’T DESERVE THAT I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE WHERE HE WAS UNTIL I SAW HIS EARRING

EVERYTHING HAPPENS SO MUCH HOW ARE THEY GOING TO RESOLVE ALL OF THIS IN ONE EPISODE

“Just like Sinbad... I have a feeling he’s someone else that I shouldn’t be secrets to” has Sinbad really done anything yet other than give people the heebie jeebies

“YOU GIVE ME BACK MY SON” ME TOO SHEHERAZADE

I fucking love this “Alibaba dear” my royal buddies Kogyoku and Alibaba

Sidenote: In Japanese she calls him “Alibaba-chan” which is for friends/babies/lovers and Alibaba is all three tbh

I deeply relate to Kouen’s lack of impulse control/regard for his own life

“Die you wastes of space”... maybe not

“What he’s saying now is, ‘The way things are now, I’m unable to have my way with those wards. And so, as you also own a fire djinn, Lord Alibaba, I’d like you to please lend me a hand.’ Those are the exact words Lord Kouen just spoke to him.” HAKUEI PLEASE HE’S STOMPING ALIBABA INTO A VOLCANO

I already love Kouen and Alibaba’s relationship like combo attacks are my shit

Kouen’s concerned about his djinn equip even though he’s clearly lost a few layers of flesh where are your priorities my dude

I love these crazy ass siblings dedicated to saving the world together

“Why isn’t Hakuryu here?” he’s probably doing something devious

“I too was there, and served [King Solomon] as well”.... WHAT

If she’s a being of only thought how did she have like ten kids

Sinbad coming in with the cavalry ayyyyyyyyyyyy how’s it going my mysterious friend

Morgiana comes to the rescue my gal and

“However, if you’re an uninvited guest forcing yourself upon our world, we’ll eliminate you” Sinbad always says such honourable things it’s very confusing with all the devious coding he’s been getting

Sheherzade coming to perform some deus ex magica

There’s Hakuyru come to fuck up his life he’s got like half an an episode to make a mess let’s see how much he can accomplish in that time

“This man, he kidnapped me from the royal palace and raised me as his own [...] but I was never anything but happy” even the nice things that Mogamett does are sort of evil lmao

Why doesn’t poor Titus even get a line in all this peace-making

Knowing from my friend that Hakuryu is going to do something after all this plot resolution is making me real tense

“Now that their common enemy is gone” IS HAKURYU GOING TO BECOME THEIR COMMON ENEMY

“The alliance will spare no effort towards the rebuilding Magnoshuttat” Sinbad’s deviousness is finally coming to fruition

OH MY GOD TITUS IS BACK AND HE’S A MAGI I LOVE IT

“I have chosen to forever turn my back on you” why are you like this Hakuryu

Alibaba’s ‘my friends are idiots’ senses are tingling but I guess it’s not time for him to go full Naruto to Hakuryu’s full Sasuke yet

#ayesha liveblogs magi #ayesha talks anime #liveblogging

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