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ialwaysgobacktoit · 4 years ago

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Time to rest your weary head: Part 13!

IT TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH, but it is here!!! As I explained before, I was facing the last weeks of my semester, delivering final papers and such, but now I'm freee!!!! I thank you all for your patience and eternal support, really <3 hope you like this one! :)))

Also tagging some of my beautiful readers <3 @madie2200 @katiebellf @starbornsinger

Last thing: I wanna leave here my praise to all fic writers and fanfiction and headcanons I had the pleasure of reading on this website; you all inspire me so much, and I’m glad to say I am a part of such a beautiful net of sharing and reading other’s stories :) you are awesome and you inspire me to keep on writing! Thank you :)

Check out the Chapter List and Part 12 if you haven't read it yet!

It was late, but Azriel didn’t mind. He felt like he could explode: like all of a sudden, all his life made much more sense.

He had a mate.

That mate was Gwyn.

And Gwyn had kissed him.

As he jumped off the balcony at the House of Wind, diving fast before soaring, he couldn’t contain his grin. His heart hadn’t stopped thundering in his chest ever since he got to her door. They kissed, and he sensed her affection and desire as sure as she had felt his. He held her in his arms, just like he had that night all those weeks ago. And he had missed so badly doing so, he realized the second he felt her hand on his cheek, caressing him in a way no one ever had, before she enlaced her arms behind his neck.

He felt like a teenager, his Ilyrian hormones pumping through his body, making him restless and euphoric. He wanted so bad to go back, to just stay with her, to make up any excuse to see her, to wake her up, to lay down with her. To spend every second he had right next to her, learning all the different ways he could make her glow.

For so long, he deemed himself worthless; tainted and scarred and damaged. But now he could see that perhaps that wasn’t true. He was hurt, but he could heal; everyone had a past, and it shouldn’t prevent them from living their present. And Gwyn… She was the reason he started believing that. That he had hope left, and that maybe…. Maybe he could care about himself just like others cared about him.

It took a second to realize he was crying. Alone, just him and his shadows, as he soared and spun across the night sky, he was crying. Sobbing and laughing uncontrollably at the same time. He breathed in and out, trying to calm his racing heart, but he still let the tears flow; he still kept smiling, the image of Gwyn’s face never fading from his mind.

Feeling the cold wind across his face, he landed on the pathway to the River House. It was all dark, but he could see a dim light from one of the windows. Rhys’s study.

Rhys. He lowered his mental shields enough so he could voice his brother’s name. Are you there?

Silence, before Rhys’s voice sounded. Yes. Are you alright?

I need to talk to you. May I come in?

He heard footsteps approaching the front door, and then Rhysand was staring at him, violet eyes dark in the dim light. “Come in, brother.”

He was greeted by the image of Nesta facing him, that huge portrait that Feyre had painted some time ago, after The Blood Rite. The house was silent, and all he could hear was his steps as he followed Rhysand to his study.

When he closed the door, Rhysand had just sat down at his armchair.

“Are Feyre and Nyx asleep?”

“Fortunately. The kid’s been having some trouble sleeping these last few months, therefore so have we.” He snorted, but smiled fondly at the thought of his family. “Sit down, Az.”

He obliged, and felt the way Rhys sized him up, trying to decipher what was going on with him. And although Azriel’s expression yielded nothing, he didn’t make an effort to wipe away his tears from before; so his brother was probably putting up the pieces together by now.

Azriel didn’t leave enough time for him to do so, as he again talked to him mentally.

Gwyn is my mate. But I reckon you already know that.

I do. I suppose it didn’t go well, then.

And Cauldron-damn him if he didn’t start laughing at that. And not a bitter one, but a true, genuine chuckle that made Rhys’s brows shot up and a bemused smile appeared on his face.

“It went more than well, actually.” Azriel corrected, shaking his head as he looked to the ground, still smiling. “And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” His brother shifted in his seat, resting his elbows in his knees and interlocking his fingers.

So Azriel explained what Rhys needed to do for them. He honestly didn’t care if his family knew or not about their mating bond, but was well aware Gwyn might need some time to adjust – and the required privacy to do so. And that was fine with him; as long as he was able to spend time with her, he’d be happy. In any way she wanted.

When he was finished, they stood in silence for a couple of seconds.

“So, I see you have your shot at happiness in your hands at last, brother.” Rhysand stated, with a knowing smile on his face.

“I do.”

“She was very good at refraining from telling you. Of course, I didn’t mean to pry when I found out. But do you know why I read her thoughts that night?”

Azriel shook his head, and watched as his brother declared with a low tone.

“She was just sitting there, in a midst of people whom she didn’t have familiarity with, and you were by your usual spot, talking to Mor. And she was just staring at you, eyes full of an emotion I couldn’t decipher, but I knew what that gesture meant. She couldn’t keep herself from looking at you, just as you couldn’t stop from glancing at her time and time again during the evening: like you were drawn to each other. I was going to ask her if she needed to talk about it, though I knew it was none of my business and she was unlikely to do so, but then I read her thoughts about you being mates.”

“That’s why I didn’t meddle in. I was witnessing something way bigger than me, and I think you know what I mean.” He finished, and completed “That’s why I - and Feyre - kept quiet about it.”

All Azriel could do was laugh quietly again at the mention of his High Lady. “Of course she’d know.”

“My dear brother, I learned by experience you shouldn’t keep things from your mate, even if it is to protect them. You're supposed to walk through it together.” Regret crossed Rhysand’s face at that confession.

Azriel knew that although his brother claimed to hide the details of Feyre’s pregnancy from her not to worry her, it wasn’t exactly fair all the same.

“But I’m certain you’ll learn that with time.” He completed, leaning over to pat Azriel on his knee. “So, don’t worry. I will do as you ask.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and stood up, meaning to leave. But, just as he was reaching the door, a thought occurred and he turned again to his High Lord.

“Rhys” He kept sitting on his chair, staring at him expectantly “It took me long enough to realize, but I’m glad you stopped me that Solstice night.”

Rhysand let out a soft chuckle at that, and bowed his head slightly, raising his glass. Knowing well what Azriel had meant with that.

****

His shadows were restless. He barely slept during the rest of the evening, his mind too awake to give in to slumber. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly nervous to see Gwyn again – and to see if they’re new acknowledged bond would stand out or if Rhysand’s spell would work. He wouldn’t doubt of his High Lord and brother, but still. He wanted to see it for himself.

He stood in the training ring ever since sunrise. Gwyn had gone to her usual morning service and he hadn’t seen her, only felt her absence in the House, both an effect from the mating bond and his shadows, since they were so eager to be around her. So he sparred for hours, waiting for the moment training began and he would see her again.

The priestesses started to arrive right about the time Cassian showed up.

“Morning, brother”

Azriel nodded back, and turned to arrange the practice swords and shields into place, preparing the room.

“How was last night?”

He could sense Cassian’s presence behind him, and the innuendo in his sly tone. Gwyn’s image appeared in his mind once again, her burgundy dress complimenting her body’s every feature. He could feel her in his arms, their proximity and heat, the way he kissed her with all need and tenderness he ever felt towards her, the small sound she made when he pulled her close, pressing their bodies together… He was cut short from his thoughts when Cassian cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh.

“I can scent everything went well, then.”

Fuck.

He started thinking about other things, anything at all, to cover his desiring scent. It wasn’t professional nor respectful to appear that way in front of the Priestesses, even though Cassian and Nesta didn’t seem to mind covering their own arousal multiple times during all these months.

It was right at that moment Cassian’s mate and Gwyn arrived, their voices filling up the air. Azriel was still with his back to the door, and counted a total of five seconds before turning around and facing the deep teal ocean that were Gwyn’s eyes.

Like the seas in Reyna.

His shadows whispered one of Summer Court’s many beaches, the quietest, most isolated and beautiful one. Azriel felt a subtle need to take her there someday, to travel around Prythian with her, to watch her explore and discover the continent, her face lighting up with each new sight.

He casually approached the two females, who were still talking while they began their stretching on the mats.

“Good morning.” He let out, dipping his head a bit.

“Hello.” Gwyn greeted back, meeting his eyes. He watched as she breathed, noticing every detail of her exposed neck and freckled cheeks before meeting her eyes. It was a monumental effort to not scan her entire body and take in all of her curves. She seemed to notice that, and with a thrilling sensation he watched her face blush.

“Good morning to you too, Azriel” Nesta mocked, interrupting their charged silence. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

She directed this particular question to both of them. Gwyn finally tore her eyes away from Azriel, doing nothing to conceal her flushed cheeks.

“Yes.” She nodded a bit timidly, biting down her lip to keep her from smiling further, and met her friend’s inquisitive stare with a sparkle that almost sent Azriel to his knees.

Damn. That female would be the death of him.

“We did indeed.” Azriel found himself agreeing, his voice rough all of a sudden. His shadows reached towards Gwyn, desperately trying to turn her attention to him, to them. He wanted to be lost in those teal eyes again, to be alone with her.

“I’m glad to hear that, Gwyn.” Nesta smiled kindly to Gwyn, honesty and pride in her tone. “Although you’re aware you’ll have to give me more details later.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, continuing her warm-up exercises while Nesta stood up. As she went on to stretch her thigh, holding it behind her back, she leaned on Azriel, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself and taking advantage of the situation by voicing quietly:

“You hurt my sister and I’ll make you regret it, Spymaster.”

His shadows protectively wrapped around his shoulders, but he was well accustomed to Nesta and they had developed a great friendship after all those months. He could always understand and read through her pain and aggressiveness, even when others didn’t. He did believe her words, though. She, pretty much like him, would do anything to protect the ones she loved.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He nodded once, staring into her piercing eyes, and she patted his shoulder once, seeming satisfied with his answer, before pushing back and striding towards Cassian.

Gwyn kept stretching on the floor, but he could see she heard everything they said by her amused smile as she watched her friend walking away. Azriel reached his hand towards her, and she faced him again and grabbed it, helping herself up.

They were standing face to face now, hands still intertwined. He could hear Cassian and Nesta organizing the Priestesses in the background, the rustle of robes and training leathers as they moved across the training ring. But he couldn’t care less, not when he was holding his mate’s hand, face mere inches from hers.

“It seems you just got intimated by Nesta, huh?” She teased.

He shrugged: “It’s nothing to which I’m not used to by now.”

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling and her voice a sweet melody to his ears. He couldn’t stop but join her, with a quiet laugh. He could feel both Cassian and Nesta’s stare on them, observing their every move. It didn’t seem like the couple caught up on the scent of their mating bond, even though that faint chill mist mixed with water lilies, the combination of him and her, was currently inebriating his senses.

“Could we see each other later today?” Gwyn surprised him by asking, her big bright eyes waiting expectantly for him to answer.

She took a sudden breath, like she was trying to capture the new scent they shared as well, and Azriel found his lips blooming into a smile, both at the thought and at the request:

“I’d love to.”

She beamed “You can meet me at the library, if you are free.”

Gods, she was stunning. He couldn’t stop counting her freckles, observing the way her ponytail twirled behind her back, marveling at how warm her hand felt against his. What a strange and powerful feeling, he thought; to miss someone with that intensity, to desire more than anything to be close to them at all times.

And Azriel wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll be there.”

***

And so he went. After successfully ignoring most of Cassian and Nesta’s teasing remarks through training and lunch, none of them, however, related to the mating bond, Azriel found himself heading towards the library.

He was greeted by Clotho as soon as he entered the space, her magic pen already moving.

Good afternoon, Azriel. What can I do for you?

“I’m looking for Gwyn.” He cordially bowed his head to the Priestess.

Do you want me to call her?

“Thank you, but there is no need. If you could just tell me in which section she is I’ll meet her there, if that’s ok.”

“Ancient hymns and rituals”, third floor down to the right. You’ll find her.

He swore something about the way that magic pen swirled at the last sentence had a tinge of cheekiness, mischief even. So he gave Clotho a soft smile and went into the depths of the library, descending the stars and carefully avoiding staring directly at any Priestess that walked by, only greeting quietly the ones he knew from training.

As usual, his shadows kept swirling faster and faster with each step closer to Gwyn, excited at the prospect of being alone with her. Well, not alone entirely, but Azriel didn’t particularly care at the moment. He knew the curious eyes directed at them would be much more discreet than the ones at training – or anywhere else, for a matter of fact.

He could hear her before he saw her, humming softly as she labeled and stored a few books back on their spots. His heart thrummed against his chest, and he leaned on a shelf across from where she stood, still absorbed in her task, humming the same sweet melody over and over again.

Before he managed to say anything, one of his shadows darted to touch her hand, and her eyes lifted from the book she was holding and met his, her mouth quirked to the side.

“How long have you been there?” She put down the book and crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting an eyebrow.

His shadows had encapsulated her shoulders and hair now, in a way that she seemed to be the Shadowsinger, and not him. He commanded them to get back to their places, but in vain. He honestly didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

“Not long.” He finally pushed away from his place by the shelf and stepped towards her, while she did the same.

He grabbed her hand, his thumb feeling her soft skin. His shadows encircled them both now, creating a dark cloud in an already dim-lit room. Gwyn laughed at them; curiously following their patterns with her eyes, hand still intertwined with his.

“They never did that before, with anyone.” Azriel observed the way his shadows expanded and darkened around and above them.

“Well, as you said before, they like me. If I were you, I’d be worried they might run away and come to me. I wouldn’t mind at all. Curious little things.”

When he faced her again she was staring at him with such intent he drew a ragged breath, mind focusing only on the female before him. The poor lighting of this particular hallway made her eyes darken, her pupils dilate, mouth slightly parted. Her copper hair now a shade of deep red, like molten fire. He just wanted to kiss each and every one of her freckles, from her face to her neck and below.

The thought made his body ache for her, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He breathed deep, once, twice, in order to calm his mind and thoughts, but was cut short when her lips met his.

His arms instantly found their way to her hips, gripping her gently. She tugged her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him as the kiss deepened, her lips parting wider to give him access. He enlaced one arm around her, keeping her close and placing his other hand in the back of her neck. He could hear a song, an ancient melody spreading from them, an array of strings and choirs.

When they parted at last, her eyes were wide.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered as they breathed in each other’s scent. Her hands were still on his hair, and he couldn’t take his hands off her just yet, placing them steadily on her hips once again.

He nodded, smiling, and she laughed silently before continuing: “It was magical.”

He leaned to kiss her once again, stopping for a brief second and silently asking for her permission to continue. She closed her eyes, lifting her face, and a soft sigh escaped her lips when they met his for the second time. It was softer this time, tender. Azriel didn’t know if something could ever feel better than this, than having his mate in his arms; than having Gwyn in his arms.

When they parted, he rested his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling. The scent of their mating bond stronger this time, only enough for them to sense it.

“Do you think they could feel it today?” Gwyn seemed to read his mind. “Our scent.”

He met her ocean eyes and shook his head: “Well, Nesta has a sharp mind, and Cassian knows me my entire life. They definitely suspect something.” He huffed a laugh “But not relating to the bond. They probably think is a crush thing.”

She laughed at him, teasingly: “Is it, Shadowsinger? A crush thing?”

“It’s so much more and you know it, Berdara.” He answered in the same tone, but he knew by the way she swallowed once that she heard the husk in his voice, sensing the promise in his words.

Someone is near. Priestesses.

His shadows curled around his ear and he retreated a step, just enough to allow a casual distance between them. Gwyn turned her head to the sound of robes shuffling by, and looked at him again. “Care to join me?” She offered, nodding towards the cart with a loving smile.

“Gladly.”

They fell into a comfortable routine after Gwyn taught him how to shelve the books she cataloged and labeled; sometimes she hummed or sang something to herself, and it was usually at those times when he paused what he was doing, bewitched by her voice. Even the movements of the other Priestesses seemed to still when Gwyn sang, the whole world going quiet. Usually, though, she noticed the subtle halt in his movements after a few moments, and interrupted herself by laughing at his reaction.

If Azriel could exchange the work he did as a Spymaster to just label and store books with Gwyn the whole afternoon, he would. Even if he knew the importance of his work, he would trade everything in a heartbeat just to be with her. Or perhaps he really needed a break.

There was a time in which he thought his spying to be the only thing that he was meant to do. And there was so much in it that he disliked: the torture, the gore. But maybe… Maybe it was time for him to start making some changes. For his sake, and the ones he loved.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her quiet voice distracted him from his thoughts. He shook his head, shelving another book, and turned to her, finding her kind eyes staring straight back at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Az.” Gwyn reached for him, holding his hand in hers “You know you can tell me.”

“It’s just” He gazed at their joint hands and sighed “I did such bad things in the past, and have been doing it for so long… I'm tired of it.”

She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against his skin, meeting his stare. “You did a lot of great things too, Azriel. Like helping your friends, your family, your people… And me.” She smiled, reassuringly. “You were the one who saved me that night all those nights ago, and then helped me stand up back on my feet every morning after it. You helped me become who I am today.”

Her tenderness broke him, touched a place inside him he was just starting to realize he had, and he took a deep breath before he took her hands in his, lifting them to meet his lips. The only possible reaction he could have to all that gentleness without allowing tears to fall; and he prayed to the Mother it could convey everything he felt.

The way Gwyn smiled and leaned in to softly kiss his cheek gave him his answer.

#awwwwwww #sorry it took me so long #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #post acosf #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fics #i live for gwynriel

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queenmuzz · 3 years ago

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So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

“Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

#Devil May Cry #Nelo Dadgelo #Dante #Vergil #Nero #canon divergence #I didn't want to connect this to their post via reblog #because that should stand alone in its own perfection #my writing

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

O SHOOT REQUESTS !!! ill take my chances and ask for a zombie apocalypse or pirate au ft. hoseok 👀 i couldnt choose between the two aus and im hoseok biased but i can honestly see any member so do as who u see fit. i will not let my pairing/au choice limit the authors talent 😤 and i dont doubt anything from you will satisfy. and pshhh,, where are my manners. please and thank u! love u 💛

↳ Crocodile Tears

1.8k || 98% Fluff, 2% Angst || Jung Hoseok || Pirate!AU

“Look what I nabbed, Cap’n.”

Gunner Taehyung’s grinning with all teeth, a golden chain wrapped around his fingers that’s so shiny it’s blinding with the sunlight. Hoseok’s intrigued and flips the locket in his hand. It’s heavy with a wild rose engraved on the front and once he pops it open, there’s a faded painted portrait of a young woman inside.

“It’s a booty, eh? Caught if off milady right over ‘ere.”

Hoseok hums and narrows his eyes on the wrench tied in rope sitting amongst the captives. Your face is dirtied, hair drawn in a bun at your crown but with many strands fallen around your face. Your gown rat’s coloured, dull gray. You are entirely unremarkable. Like any other peasant.

But it’s not often captives have something of value on them.

“Bring her to my cabin.”

“Aye, aye.”

The ship sets sail again. Taehyung keeps the captives quiet with the threat of throwing them overboard while the cabin boy Jungkook swabs the poop deck. Helmsman Seokjin mans the helm with navigator Namjoon by his side. The ship’s heading to dock at Port Galigeo to get a pretty penny for all the loot and treasures they’ve gotten after four months’ voyage.

Once steep waters are reached and everything’s been taken care of, Hoseok resumes to his cabin. There, he finds you, sitting in the corner on the floorboards with tears in your eyes. You gasp as he enters and shuts the door.

“Please! Spare me!” you beg sorrowfully. “Let me go!”

“Why should I?” Hoseok tosses his hat onto his table and his coat to his rickety chair. You look so frightful, even when he’s still in his drawers and shirt, held together by the red sash.

He fiddles with the many golden rings across his fingers, a habit since he began his adventures, and he comes over to you. Hoseok’s boots are heavy against the floorboards, and he crouches down to meet your trembling eyes.

“I-I am just a peasant,” you sob. “I have nothing to give to you! My father is merely a farmer.”

“Oh? Then what be this here?” Hoseok dangles the priceless locket in front of you as the corner of his lip curls. It catches the light from the tiny window of the cabin and the gold gleams against your eyes, practically sparkling like a jewel.

Your eyes flicker from it to him, hiccuping and frame quivering like a damn leaf. “It’s my grandmother’s. She left it for me before she passed.”

Hoseok hums a low note. “An’ if this be your grandmother’s, how she pay for such a treasure? Unless she been a thief.”

Your downcast head shakes. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

He pops the locket open before taking a good look at it. “This here be a portrait of you, isn’t it? You look different. Lavish. Like a noble’s daughter.”

“T-That isn’t me.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t know.”

There’s something rather pretty in the way tears drip down your cheeks, so soft and gentle like jewels of their own right. But Hoseok has seen many women, children and men cry. It’s nothing astonishing.

Hoseok smirks, a rush of air leaving his nose. “I’ve been cap’n of this ship for nearly a decade, dearest. I’ve held treasures you could only dream of, been in battles that nearly lost my leg, sailed ‘cross the seven seas with me mates. I know when a wrench lies.”

His eyes are narrowed in on yours. And Hoseok comes closer, hand lifting to grab a hold of your chin. But before he can, before he can blink or breathe — suddenly, you brandish a piece of glass against his exposed neck.

The ropes around you clatter to the ground. Hoseok feels the sharp edge of the glass digging into his skin, a moment away from nicking him and drawing blood. But more notably, your eyes are aflame. Your expression is dark and you’re scowling at him.

Gone is the fragile little girl weeping for mercy.

“Don’t come closer,” you warn in a low voice without a single tremble.

He leans back, but his gaze stays on yours. “You reckon you could kill me?”

“I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Hoseok’s mouth curls, grin stretching into his cheek. His interest is piqued. He knew there was more to you beneath the surface, and he’s happy you haven’t disappointed.

His hand latches onto your wrist to force your hand away. It's a battle of strength. One that he ultimately wins as the piece of glass goes clattering on the ground out of your reach. He sees it’s part of a broken bottle. But Hoseok’s much too put off guard and when your leg kicks out at him, he’s smacked square in the chin.

He grips it as he lands on his ass, sharply exhaling. But then he bursts into chuckles.

“You got some mean spirit in you, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately for you, Hoseok has far too much experience in combat and capture. Even if you try to kick, strike and even bite him, it’s not too difficult to get you tied into ropes again. Except this time, he makes sure to use his special knots and get you so wound up, no sharp edge could free you.

“Let me go, bastard!”

“Settle down. You’re only gettin’ yourself riled.” Hoseok crouches in front of you again and comes to wipe away the stray tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You angrily scowl at him, chest rising and falling. Crying won’t get you far now, not when he knows they’re just crocodile tears. “Don’t get yourself worried about someone hurtin’ you. Everyone on this ship swears by our code, me included.”

You scoff. “As if I’d trust a pirate.”

Hoseok smirks. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done so already. It isn’t pleasin’ for me to force a girl like yourself either. Not when I have plenty o’ gold to play with a wrench at the dock. Now I suggest you behave or my Quartermaster’ll throw you overboard.”

“Then do it!” you shout at him with your entire body, only to flop over to the floorboards.

He grips the knob of the door and looks over his shoulder. “No. You’re too much of a treasure, sweetheart.”

The sun is falling over the horizon when Namjoon approaches. “Everything go well with the girl?”

Hoseok hums and turns with a glint in his eye. “Tell all hands to keep her separate.”

Port Galigeo is reached within two days time. The waters are calm without storms and the stars are clear at night. The sailing is smooth and so the docks are reached faster than ever before.

The men aboard are eager to sell the loot, to spend a few days ashore, spend nights at the brothel and replenish the rum. As follows, their steps are quick and they move the crates of jewels and tools to the harbour. Seokjin also takes care of the captives, leading them in a straight line off the gangplank to be sold.

“Cap’n! What ‘bout the beauty ‘ere.” Taehyung points to you.

Hoseok meets your eyes and you’re seething, glaring back at him. The corner of his mouth curls in amusement.

“Leave her. Tell the lad to watch over her till we return.” He points to Jungkook and Taehyung nods with an ‘aye, aye’.

Most of his crewmen take care of business, getting as much gold for the loot as possible. But Hoseok fiddles with your pendant in hand and heads to a jeweler. Said jeweler is an old man who quivers upon seeing him, Namjoon and Seokjin in his shop. He hides behind his table and cries, “Please! Spare me! Take what you must!”

Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t know why everyone thinks so badly of him. Maybe because he’s a pirate and he and his crew have pillaged countless. That’s fair, he supposes.

“Stop yer quivering,” Seokjin spews out, leaning against his table. “We need you to look at somethin’. Hurry before I steal your silver!”

Hoseok lifts your golden locket, letting it dangle from his hand.

The old man eventually slinks out when he realizes they won’t do anything, and he takes out his magnifying glass. He motions for him to bring it forward and Hoseok does. The old man hums, studying the locket before flipping it over in his hand. His thumb brushes against the wild rose engraving.

“Where did you get this from?” he asks.

“Don’t matter,” Namjoon says curtly.

Hoseok studies the man’s face and leans closer. “What is it?”

“It is a very valuable locket. I happen to recognize this symbol as well. It is the emblem of the Crochetta Kingdom.” He pops the locket open to the portrait of the young woman and looks up at Hoseok, clearing his throat. “I believe this locket belongs to the youngest princess of that kingdom. The runaway.”

Hoseok’s brow cocks.

The three of them leave in a hurry.

Seokjin’s eyes are glazed as his mouth starts to spew how Lady Luck is truly on their side, how they’ll be able to get their hands on a high ransom or sell you for countless riches. Namjoon is perplexed at how a princess like you managed to get here when Crochetta was countries away.

But Hoseok remains quiet. He doesn’t plan to trade you. He doesn’t ask questions.

He is entirely and wholly intrigued. Like never before.

“Blimey, the ship!” There’s a shout at the docks and Hoseok is torn from his thoughts. Taehyung has his hands in the air, cursing aloud. And Hoseok’s eyes trail from him to his ship that’s off the dock and disappearing over the horizon. “It’s sailing away!”

Seokjin is aghast. “How?!”

“Who’s still on?!” Hoseok shouts, looking around the dock to all his shocked men and their mouths drawn open big enough to catch flies.

“That girl,” Namjoon says, looking at the captain.

Hoseok tied you tightly, he made sure of it. Unless you freed yourself again. But it’s not possible that you lifted the anchor.

No. You must’ve cut the rope.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

At the same time, there’s a high-pitched shriek in the distance. All of the men are held to their spots on the docks as they watch a tiny figure in the horizon get pushed off the ship’s deck and then plopped into the waters.

There’s a loud splash.

You stole the ship.

Hoseok is quiet when his men turn to him. They don’t dare utter a single word, far too afraid their captain is boiling with anger. But what frightens them far more is when Hoseok suddenly bursts out into chortling laughter.

He laughs and grins as he watches his ship sail into the distance.

You were truly a treasure hard to find. He knew it when he saw you.

And now, he’ll just have to catch you again.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok reader insert #hoseok scenario #bts reader insert #bts drabble #bangtans-peaceful-piegon #Jimlings #let's goooo Hoseok as a hot sexy pirateee!!!

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willowbleedsonpaper · 4 years ago

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Tears Of Guilt

Sirius Black x Sister!Reader (Adopted), Regulus Black x Sister!Reader

W.C. : 2490

Warnings: This is pure angst, character death.

“Sit.” ordered Walburga, her voice snapping at you when you took more than a second to get to the chair next to Regulus. You could hear the clicking of her heels on the wooden floor behind you and if you focused enough, you could hear her thoughts, the words boiling inside her head as she abruptly stopped next to you “Where is he?” she said sharply, her eyes burning holes at the top of your head as you stared blankly at the wall across from the table.

“I don’t know.” you muttered, voice dead as you kept your gaze on one specific spot, avoiding her eyes at all cost.

She scoffed lowly, her pacing behind you resuming once again “Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” she threatened “His belongings are gone, his room is empty. Where. did. he. go?” she asked, leaning her body between you and Regulus as she turned her face to you, her hand carefully caressing your cheeks before she gripped your chin and forced your face to look at her “Stop protecting Sirius or it will be worse for you my child.” she said, staring directly into your eyes as she let go of your face, red marks in both your cheeks from her tight hold.

You swallowed hard, returning your face to the portrait you used as an anchor. “I haven’t seen him in weeks, let alone talked to him.” you told her, feeling the warmth of Regulus’ hand taking hold of yours under the table, a reassuring squeeze coming from him as you kept a dead gaze in your face.

“You’re lucky your mother was a dear friend of mine.” she hissed, standing in the middle of both chairs, just inches away from your hold onto Regulus hand “If it was up to me I wouldn’t have put up with you all this years.” Tears started burning in your eyes, the rapid blinking keeping them at bay as you tighten your grip in Regulus hand.

Of course you knew where Sirius was. Until a month ago he spoke to you like you were best friends, and in a sense you were. The sister he never wanted but ended up loving more than he knew he could love someone. But not enough to take her and his brother with him, to stick together like they had promised one another. He had made his choice and now it was your turn.

“I can only assume he is with one of his friends.” you spoke after what felt like an eternity in silence, Regulus taking a hesitant glance at you and the tear that rolled down your cheek. “Probably at the Potter’s.” you mumbled, missing the grin spreading over your guardian's face as she dismissed the both of you.

“Why did you do that?” Regulus said, barely keeping his own emotions at bay as he carefully closed the door of your room.

You sat down on your bed, patting the space next to you for him to take “It’s just you and me now.” you told him, lifting your face with unshed tears in your eyes “Sirius made his choice and now we have to do the same.” you told him.

“Mom’s going to kill him.” he told you, taking a shaky breath as soon as the words left his mouth.

You only nodded, taking him into your arms as you rubbed his back enough to ease his breathing “He killed us when he left.” you murmured in his ear “Always remember to fight fire with fire, Regulus. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”

********************************************************************

It was your last year at Hogwarts. One month and you would be thrust into the life of a full time Death Eater, the mar in your left forearm marking you for eternity to a path you couldn’t escape. And neither could Regulus.

“You were always more clever than I was.” you told him, watching as he filled page after page of parchment with information, not even giving it a second thought as he knew exactly the words he needed to plasm the knowledge in the paper.

He shook his head, dipping the quill in the pot of ink as he continued his assignment, the small smile in his face going unnoticed by everyone but you “It’s nothing.” he said “You taught me well.”

Just as you were about to answer the quiet atmosphere in the common room was disrupted. Your feet instantly bringing you up as the laughs died down as they saw you standing in the middle of the room “What are you doing here, Sirius?” you asked sharply, his grin widening as he elbowed his friends.

They all laughed loudly, your eyes falling to the flasks in their hands as you slowly but surely pulled your wand from your sleeve, Regulus walking to your side in the same stance.

“You sound just like mom.” Sirius said, the words dragged by his tongue as they all erupted in laughter once more. “Finally turned into her? Are you ready to step into your role as the new matriarch of the ancient family Black?” he mocked, saluting you as he stood straight, James and Peter imitating him as your grip tightened around your wand.

“What do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth, your arm shaking with rage as you raised your wand at them.

Remus was the only one who seemed to sober up instantly, his face falling as he reached for his giggling friends “Let’s go.” he murmured, all of them turning to you at the look in his friend’s face.

You weren’t the only one with your wand up now, Regulus stepping in front of you with a firm hand raised. The look in his eyes cold as he walked towards his brother “You think it is funny?” he asked him “You managed to escape and now we’re the enemy?” he spat the words, the Marauders now ready to duel.

“It appears we all have chosen our sides.” James said, eyes trailing down to Regulus arm, his sleeves rolled up leaving his mark out in the open.

“Stay out of it, Potter!” Regulus’ hissed, not once moving his eyes from Sirius. “Your sister asked you a question. Or have you forgotten that too, Sirius?”

“No death eater is family of mine.” Sirius grumbled under his breath, his words cutting deep into your heart as you reached for Regulus, but it was little too late.

The air buzzed with energy as Regulus shot spell after spell, Sirius and James barely keeping up with him as they blocked his attacks. You watched frozen in place, only snapping out of your trance when Remus tried to intervene with Peter at his side. Flashes of light left the tips of your wands, the possibility of someone finding you slim as it was the Slytherin room in the middle of the night. Only the Marauders being stupid enough to go there at such an hour.

It was only when Regulus stumbled back that your concentration broke, a spell hitting you on the chest as you feel back. Your face shot up in rage, reaching for your wand on the carpet as you pointed directly at James “Stupefy!” you shouted, hitting him as his body flew across the room, leaving you a clear path to Sirius.

Your movements were messy, the spells rolling off your tongue naturally as you cornered him against the wall, the tip of your wand against his throat when the only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

Sirius did nothing as he waited for the spell to come out of your lips, his eyes boring deeply into your wild ones as he held his breath.

“If I see you, any of you,” you yelled, motioning your head around the room “anywhere near Regulus, I won’t be so forgiving. Do you understand?” you asked.

Lowering your wand he ran straight towards James, supporting his body against yours as they made their way out of the Slytherin common room. Not once glancing back, not another word spoken as his footsteps died in the silence of the night.

“He really hates us, doesn’t he?” Regulus asked you, straightening his clothes as he rolled his sleeves down.

“I told you before.” you said, reaching for his arm “This is not who we are, but how we survive.” you took his right hand into your left one, just like the day you both received your dark mark. Together, hand in hand.

You walked inside the room where many of the close followers of the dark lord waited for you two. Dressed in your best clothing, your mother announced your arrival with a grin in her face.

Regulus had a stoic face, not an emotion breaking to the surface as he held your hand. You on the other hand were putting up a show , a proud smirk on your face as you lifted both your arms in the air, the dark marks fresh in your young skin as your new family clapped and cheered in rejoice. Two pureblood children turned to man and woman to the dark lord’s will.

No one would ever dared doubt the both of you now.

********************************************************************

It had been years of enduring and obeying the dark lord’s commands, but your work had paid off greatly. Regulus had found his weakness and was in the path of saving the wizarding world.

You couldn’t have been prouder of him, offering himself to do the job as you played your part as his alibi. You were on your way to becoming legends.

The sound of light footsteps caught your attention as you paced in the kitchen, your mother gone for the day as you “dealt” with the house. You rushed to the hall, stumbling on the furniture there as a smile was drawn on your face “Regulus?” you called, as you turned both sides “Reg?!” you called again, eyes falling lower to the floor. “Kreacher, where is Regulus?” you asked, your heart beating faster as you felt your breath get caught in your throat as he shook his head. You left out a sob, falling to your knees as you clutched your stomach.

Loud sobs and cries left your mouth as you looked up to the elf “Where is my brother?” you asked in a whisper, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“Kreacher did everything he could.” he told you slowly “Master Regulus is dead, Mistress.”

“No, no…” you said in between sobs, resting your back against the wall as you choked in between sobs “NO, HE’S NOT DEAD!” you screamed, hitting the floor with your fists until blood stained the wood. Your cries echoing through the empty house until they could no longer be heard.

********************************************************************

You had begged Kreacher to take you back to the place he last saw Regulus, with no luck. His loyalty to your brother more than his fear of you. That’s how you found yourself all alone, standing over an empty grave with no one but the hope that he was listening to you.

“It should have been me.” you murmured, holding your umbrella close to you as the rain became heavier “Why did I let you go on your own?” you sobbed, using the end of your sleeve to clean your tears.

It had been a month since Kreacher arrived all alone that day, one month since you had taken your belongings and left the house you had grown to call home, leaving it empty for Walburga to find. You had become the one thing you never wanted to be, the one person you promised you would never forgive. The person walking up to you with his own tears.

“Y/N.” he called, making your entire body tense before you slowly turned his way.

“Leave.” you spat, storming his way as he stumbled back at your response “Get out of my sight.” you glared daggers at him, roaming your eyes all over his body.

“He was my brother too.” he told you shakily, looking over your shoulder at the newest grave in the place.

“So now we’re family again.” you said with a sardonic look in your face “He still had the mark in his arm, so do I.” you pulled your sleeve up, thrusting your arm in his face as he closed his eyes shut. Your arm dropping like dead weight at your side, never bothering to cover it again.

“I had to get out of there.” he tried to explain “You don’t know what it was like for me.”

“You think we lived a fairy tale? The perfect life?” you asked in disbelief.

“It was easier for you.”

“Merlin, Sirius. We had to become Death Eaters, I had to take care of Regulus, He had to kill!” you shouted, pointing angrily at the grave as you looked for his eyes.

“But of course, I’m sure being a Gryffindor was a torture, running to the Potter’s and living the dream, forgetting you even had a family.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it!” he snapped, his eyes turning to you as tears threatened to spill at any moment.

“Oh no!” you said with a breathless laugh, shaking your head as you poked his chest “You don’t get to cry for him.”

“He is more my brother than he is yours.” he said bitterly, the pain crossing your face making him regret his words instantly, but it was too late for that.

“Then where were you the past four years, Sirius?!” you screamed “Why did you leave when I told you I had a plan to get us all out of that nightmare? Huh?” you asked in tears, seeing him frozen in place and just as you had imagined all this time: without an answer.

“I thought…” he stuttered, a rare sight in him as you stood there expectant of his answer, only for his words to die down.

“You didn’t think, Sirius.” you told him with a sigh “And if you did you only thought of yourself, as usual.” you said bitterly “We could have left that place together, but you had to be your selfish self and ruin everything for Regulus. I could have left,” you said placing a hand in your chest “But I stayed for him. And you left for yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled after a long minute of silence, a tear dropping from his lashes on his cheek.

You walked to stand beside him, leaning to his side “I want you to drown in tears of guilt.” you whispered in his ear, glancing slowly to his face. You met his eyes before your gaze fell on the tear resting against his skin. “I want you to choke on your own tears as you realize you have no right to be here.” you said, brushing your thumb over the tear rolling down his face “You don’t get to cry, Sirius.”

TAGS:

Skittles @fanficflaneuse @nebulablakemurphy @lupins-sweater @accio-rogers @gloriousrebelrunaway @slytherinprincess03 @not-today-anxiety @strawberriesonsummer @infinity1o1 @haphazardhufflepuff @deafgirltingz @summer-writes @herstory-study @peeves-a-legend

#sirius black #young sirius black #regulus black #sirius x sister!reader #regulus x sister!reader #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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stiltonbasket · 4 years ago

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Beauty & the Beast AU Prompt: Jiang Cheng is the Beast and Nie Huaisang is Belle. Lan Wangji is somehow sent to rescue Nie Huaisang but he refuses to leave - no one is making him train! He can paint and decorate fans all day long! Plus, Jiang Cheng just showed him a library with a very interesting section... Lan Wangji is getting frustrated, and it doesn't help that an annoying candle called Wei Ying keeps following him around and will. not. leave. him. alone!

“I was very beautiful when I was human, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji glares at the smiling candlestick and aggressively reshelves another book. “Indecency is forbidden,” he repeats, wishing he had a tablet of Lan sect principles at hand so he could make Wei Ying copy them down as punishment. “Vanity is a stain upon the mortal soul, and wise men eschew it. Please remember that in the future--whatever you may know of the human world as it is now, we are not all Nie Huaisang.”

Inwardly, Lan Wangji laments the fact that Nie Huaisang had been kidnapped by this beast, of all the rampaging creatures in the countryside that could have run across him. The young Nie scion has as many delicacies as he wants to eat (courtesy of the beautiful porcelain teapot that usually accompanies Wei Ying, who said she was the lady of this empty household, once upon a time) and plenty of paints and brushes and fans, not to mention a whole section of yellow leaflets in the library--which this shameless candlestick, Wei Ying, claimed to have collected himself.

“This is because I gave A-Sang my longyang books, isn’t it?” Wei Ying mourns, while Lan Wangji makes a violent choking sound and piles more cooking manuals--the ones Jiang Yanli lent him, so he could show the kitchen implements how to make his favorite foods--over the shameful scrolls before debating setting them on fire. “You haven’t even looked at me since you found out they were mine.”

Lan Wangji feels his face burn. “Perhaps,” he hisses, “I would be more inclined to look at you if you could go more than two minutes without mentioning them!”

“How can I?” Wei Ying demands. “That’s the reason you haven’t been getting along with me! We have to talk this out!”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Lan Wangji snaps. “You are--frivolous, and shameless, and talking to you makes my forehead ribbon curl.”

And it distracts me from what I’m supposed to be doing, he thinks guiltily. I should have been home with Nie Huaisang two weeks ago.

“Oh?” the candlestick says slyly. “So you don’t even want to stay and see the new portrait I’ve been working on?”

Something aches in Lan Wangji’s chest at the thought of refusing him, even though Wei Ying’s teasing is a deeper source of suffering to him than Nie Huaisang’s refusal to stop wasting time with Jiang Wanyin (current beast, and ex-crown prince) and go back home to his brother. “You may show me your portrait if you promise to behave,” he says stiffly, trying not to blush as Wei Ying leaps up to the drawn curtains in glee. “And then I must go to help the washtubs with the laundry.”

“You don’t actually need to help them, you know,” Wei Ying points out. “Our bodies aren’t human anymore. We don’t get tired.”

“Nie Huaisang and I are two of the only three people in this place who wear clothes. It would only be polite to help them.”

“Ah, that’s right!” chirps Wei Ying. “Well, just look at this portrait, and then you can go.”

He jerks on the tasseled rope fastening the curtains and capers in sheer happiness as it falls back to reveal a portrait of a young man in white robes, seated on a bench with his shimmering gown spread out on the floor around him and holding a fluffy rabbit in his lap.

The youth in the painting has a smile on his lips, and Lan Wangji feels the breath catch in his throat as he recognizes his own face represented above him in ink and brushstrokes and paper.

“Good, isn’t it?” Wei Ying preens. “What do you think, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji never makes it to the laundry that day. But upon later reflection, perhaps the washtubs and irons will understand.

---

Two months later, when Nie Huaisang manages to bring the Jiang household and all its inhabitants back to their former glory, Lan Wangji discovers that Wei Ying is every bit as beautiful in his human form as he always used to claim he was.

“Now I can woo you properly,” his beloved gloats, as the two of them revel in the precious feeling of actually holding each other for the first time. “You won’t be able to resist, sweetheart! I’m never giving you back.”

“I have already been wooed,” Lan Wangji says honestly, smiling as Wei Ying throws his lovely face into his equally lovely hands and wails. “I fell in love with Wei Ying the candlestick, and I love Wei Ying as he is now. You need never do anything to keep me, for I am already yours.”

“You can’t just say things like that!” groans Wei Ying. “Have mercy on my heart! Lan Zhan!”

“I’d advise against kissing Lan-er-gongzi in the courtyard, Xianxian,” Jiang Yanli laughs, appearing in the doorway with her son Jin Ling--the ex-teacup, who liked to wake Lan Wangji up in the mornings by jumping on his back--in her arms. “Nie Mingjue’s here, and I think he might tear the manor down with the way he’s chasing poor A-Sang.”

---

(Nie Mingjue does not get the chance to tear down the manor, because his brother falls to his knees in front of him and begs to be permitted to marry Jiang Wanyin before he can really get started. But that is a story for another day.)

#wangxian #sangcheng #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #beauty and the beast au #my fic

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awanderingdeal · 4 years ago

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Never too late - 4 - 5

A continuation of Leo and Regulus' attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: All content warnings relate to Part 5: piercings and food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

4. Take photos! Candids, selfies and posed group shots. They’ll hold the best memories.

“Merde, what are you doing?” Logan asked, resting his head on Leo's shoulder as he peered at the laptop.

Leo grinned, tipping his head back slightly so he could press a kiss against Logan’s cheek, “I’m getting inspiration.”

“That cleared a grand total of nothing up,” Logan huffed, circling the sofa so that he could flop next to Leo. “Oh my God, no. I thought I had deleted everything from back then” he groaned, reaching to close the lid of the device.

Leo swatted his hand away with a scowl. “First of all, I am offended that you never told me that you used to have bangs,” he gestured to the image of a young Logan on the screen, laughter bubbling in chest. “Second, I think you may have caught most yours, but you failed to check your tagged photos.”

Logan sighed again, apparently resigning himself to the fact Leo was going to trawl through the photos no matter what. “Is there at least a reason that you are torturing me like this?” he asked, curling into Leo’s side.

“It started off as me finding inspiration for classic high school photos to take with Reg, but now I’m just looking at how adorable you were at 14.” Leo chuckled.

***

“I want to be on the top!” James yelled, earning a snigger from Finn.

“No, Logan needs to go on the top, he’s the smallest and I’m not breaking my back for you idiots,” Kasey said from where he was braced on all fours.

“He’s actually very heavy. Like a tiny ball of muscle,” Finn said. Logan seemed conflicted as to whether he should be thanking his boyfriend or reprimanding him, the confused frown making Leo smile, but he figured he should intervene before a full on argument broke out.

“Maybe we should ask Regulus where he wants to go? These are his photos after all,” Leo suggested, turning his gaze onto the man in question.

Regulus threw his hands up, shaking his head. “I was coerced into this madness,” he defended. “But if I must participate then I want to go on top. At least then I don’t get squashed when this goes wrong.”

“O, yee of little faith,” Thomas scoffed, making a dramatic show of stretching his limbs.

“I’m retiring after this season, I’m too old for this,” Dumo groaned as he joined Kasey on the floor.

“You say this every season,” Kuny laughed, taking the spot next to Pascal and nudging him in the shoulder.

“Alright, Cap. I think you better go on the base too,” Leo said, laughing at the scowl he earned. It appeared that Sirius had been trying to make himself blend into the cushions in the hopes he might get out of the photo, but Leo wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “For Reg?”

“Regulus doesn’t even…” Sirius began to argue, but he was interrupted by his brother’s low chuckle.

“I have suddenly changed my mind. Come on Sirius, don’t be a spoil sport,” Regulus teased.

Sirius opened his mouth to start a rebuttal, but all that came out was a resigned sigh, and the man heaved himself to his feet, getting a loud cheer from the rest of the team. Once he had taken his spot, the rest of the pyramid seemed to form easily. James, Remus, Leo, Logan and Finn all climbed on, until eventually it was Regulus’s turn. With a little help from Timmy and Olli, the man managed to take his place at the top of the pyramid.

“Okay, Sergei, take the photo,” Leo instructed, feeling parts of the pyramid begin to shake.

“Which button is -” Sergei asked, before a semblance of a smile crossed his face. “Oh, found it.” Just as the words left Sergei’s mouth, Leo found himself tumbling to the floor, several of his team mates on top of him, a chorus of grumbling in several different languages erupting as they clutched various body parts.

“If anybody has broken anything, I am not explaining this to Coach,” Sirius declared, from under James and Finn.

“Did you at least get the photo?” Dumo asked.

“No, we need to do again,” Sergei grinned, a groan reverberating around the room from the rest of the team.

***

Regulus wiped his hand across his cheek so subtly that he nearly missed it, but the redness in his eyes was obvious.

“Are you crying?” Leo asked quietly, feeling the muscles 0f his forehead tense into a concerned frown.

“I’m fine,” Regulus said, blinking rapidly, shutting the scrapbook perched on his lap with a little more force than necessary. Leo had spent hours compiling the photos taken over the last few months into it: the forming a pyramid, two dozen or so polaroids taken at various events, a fair few with peace signs; the transition of Regulus slowly becoming more comfortable with the action obvious with each one, another was a take on the classic shoe circle only with hockey skates. Somehow James had snuck several selfies of himself into the mix.

“No, Reggie, what’s the matter?” Leo pulled the book from Regulus’s hands and put it on the coffee table, turning so that he could face his friend more easily.

Regulus shrugged, playing with the sleeve of his shirt, a nervous habit Leo had picked up on over the past few months. “I...I just never really had any friends in high school. It’s kind of hard when you’re taught to see everybody as competition, you know? So, I don’t really have any photos that aren’t stuffy family portraits or media shots. I didn’t realise that bothered me until now.”

Leo bundled Regulus into a hug, his friend making a disgruntled sound as he found himself pressed against Leo’s chest. “Just accept it,” Leo huffed, wondering how he had managed to find himself saddled with so many emotionally constipated hockey (or ex-hockey) players.

5. Find your style - change your hair, get a new piercing, buy a new outfit. Go wild!

“Hey, Reg,” Finn waved, mumbling through a mouthful of cheese.

“Harzy! Do you know how much that cheese cost?” Logan scolded, his expression somewhat more horrified than Leo would deem reasonable, “Please respect it.”

Leo grabbed his jacket, patting the pocket to ensure his wallet was inside. He rarely used his physical cards anymore, but it gave him far too much anxiety to rely on just his phone. “We’re leaving now. Try not to kill each other while we’re gone. It would be tragic to lose both of my boyfriends in one day,” he said, dropping a kiss first on to Finn’s cheek and then Logan’s.

“Bye Reg,” Finn waved again.

***

“Thank you,” Leo smiled at the cashier as he took his purchases from them. He looked down, noting that between the two of them they had amassed nearly twenty bags. Leo wasn’t usually one to spend money frivolously, but he had found himself swept away by Reg’s enthusiasm. Apparently when he wasn’t being stuffed into tight button ups and tailored pants, Regulus really rather enjoyed fashion. Finn would have been proud of the multiple pairs of trainers they had acquired so far. Still, they probably had enough for today.

Before Leo had a chance to suggest a change of activities, Regulus beat him to it. “Do you want to get some food?” he asked, the grumble of Leo’s stomach answering the question with no need for any words. Regulus laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes. Are you good to get Thai?”

Somehow over the course of filling their stomachs with curry and Pad Thai, an innocent comment about how Regulus would look cute with a piercing resulted in them walking into the nearest studio that had decent reviews. Regulus had changed into one of his new outfits: a loose black and white striped shirt, a pair of black pants cuffed at the legs and chunky white sneakers because his old outfit was deemed unsuitable for getting a piercing in.

Leo had just finished up getting his lip done, pamphlet of aftercare instructions clutched in his hand, and was waiting for Regulus to come out of his room. The boy had refused to tell him what exactly he was going to get done, and the anticipation was killing him. A few minutes later, Regulus pushed out the door to the small room and Leo’s eye was immediately drawn to the light catching Regulus’ eyebrow.

“Oh my God!” Leo exclaimed, wincing as the movement sent a surge of pain through his lip. “You look so good,” he added, moving to inspect the barbell peeking through Regulus’ brow.

“Thanks,” Regulus blushed at the approval. “Yours is cool too. Logan and Finn are going to freak out.”

“They sure are,” Leo chuckled. “Alright, I’ll settle this and then I’ll drop you back home?”

***

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Regulus scowled, reading the instructions on the back of the box of dye for what Leo was sure was the fiftieth time.

“I told you, you haven’t been a teenager unless you have made some questionable fashion choices,” Leo countered. “Except I’m going to look amazing with blue hair so it’s not really questionable.”

“Well, it can’t be worse than this anyway, right?” Regulus grimaced, gesturing to his bleached blond hair.

“Noughties boy band members would be jealous,” Leo laughed.

“It’s a shame it is neither the noughties anymore, nor am I a boy band member,” Regulus replied, shoving the box into Leo’s hands. “Just do it.”

A little over an hour later, Leo was nudging Reg in front of the mirror. “Okay, this was definitely not a mistake! We look amazing. I am taking up a career in hairdressing if I get injured,” Leo declared, holding his hand out for a high five. Whilst Regulus did return it, it was less enthusiastic than Leo had been going for. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it,” Regulus shook his head, dragging his fingers along the short sides. The cut wasn’t that different to what it had been before, other than a slightly more dramatic fade. “Just feels weird. My parents would die if they could see me.”

“Well, I think we look badass,” Leo said, running his hand through his own blue hair. He’d left the front long and floppy, deciding to go wild and undercut the back. “Come here, let me take a photo.”

Leo was glad that Regulus had finally learned that while he was not one to throw a tantrum, he did have his ways of getting what he wanted and it was easier for everyone if Regulus just compiled most of the time. The post had barely been up on their Instagram pages for more than 3 minutes when Leo’s phone began to vibrate, Logan’s flashing onto the screen.

“Regulus! Why did my little brother just call to tell me that he wants to dye his hair blue?” Remus yelled up the stairs as Leo picked the call up.

And if drug stores all over the country sold out of blue hair dye the next day? Well, Leo guessed there were worse trends to have started.

#Leo Knut #Regulus Black #Sweater weather #lumosinlove #cw: piercings #cw: food #rating: t

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Owl House Season 2 Reviews!: Separate Tides

Hello all you happy witches! I’m Jake, and I review things reguarlly. You might of seen my reviews of Enchanted Grom Fright or Wing it LIke Witches. Wether you have or you haven’t i’m proud to welcome you to my blog. I review episodes of animated shows beat by beat, getting into the ins, outs and what have yous and ocassionaly I cover shows at they come out, having Covered all of Ducktales Season 3 and Amphibia Season 2, and since I slept on the second half of season 1, I’m now doing so for Owl House Season 2! If you’d like me to cover the rest of season one, consider joining my patreon! Just one buck helps get me closer to my next stretch goal of 20 bucks a month, and hitting that means monthly reviews of season 1 in addition to weekly reviews of season 2 when i’ts active. So if you end up liking this review and want more more more, your best way to get that is to help sign up and doing so gets you access to my discord, your pick of a short when I do a bunch of them for my shortstaculars, and access to my exclusive reviews. So line up and sign up if your curious, LINK IS RIGHT HERE. Patreon allows me to get paid for my work as well as keep doing it as much as I am so any help is appricated and if you can’t I fully understand given these rough times we’re just now barely escaping from.

Onto the part you actually care about: I enjoyed Owl House season 1 quite a bit. It had some issues sure: the subplots often felt disconnected from the main plot and overarching stories during the first half of the season and one or two episodes could’ve been cut, but for the most part it was genuinely excellent and gave us a fun, weird, macbre , well crafted world with likeable heroes voiced by great actors, great jokes and most notably a bisexual lead with a lesbian love intrest, something that would be notable on ANY show, especially for my bisexual self, but especially on Disney, where the most we get from them on a good day pride wise are minor gay characters that can be easily cut out, and half hearted tweets that are heavily mocked by one of the voice actors on this very show who you may of heard of.

This is the second time i’ve gotten to use those tweets and sadly it probably won’t be the last. I”d also say he makes Disney sound like some clown version of the hulk but Clown hulk was evne more rediculous than Disney’s blatant pandering.

Did I really need to include a picture of the hulk posing as a robotic clown juggling a seal, a horse and an elephant drawn by the one and only Jack Kirby?... yes I absolutely did.

Point is the show was damn impressive and I was eager to see what was in store. So yeah I did see the first episodes ahead of time as they were released early to select viewers as part of a charity stream for pride month. I just held off on the review because while most fans would’ve seen these eps by now, many were probably holding off for the airdate, and I wanted to be respectful.

So now we’re all caught up how does the opening salvo of season 2 stack up? Is it better or worse? Does it involve a loveable golden shithead and Hooty finally making a friend somehow and causing Blitzo to have an especaially chilly day? The answers are waiting for you inside, full recap/review with spoilers under the cut.

The season starts with a cold open: Luz, in her badass cape from the finale, where she confronts a myserious monster on a bounty poster.. who turns out to be using the light to make himself look bigger and thus the biggest problem Luz has with the guy is getting him out of king’s mouth like the little demon just found a piece of steak.

We then get the spiffy new credits.. which are spectacular. Seriously their gorgeous both showing off how far our heroes have come and how close they are now versus where they started, especailly Amity whose gone from “trying to look aloof” to confidently showing off her power with a wiry smile. Likewise the escalated stakes are shown off as the three portraits for the hexside crew have been replaced with Lilith, Kiki and Golden Guard, and the shot of King playing with his toys is replaced with Belos standing powerful.

What i’m most impressed by.. is that Dana got THIS much changed animation in. Western cartoons usually keep the same intro for a while and the most star vs got changed in season 2 was a frame. Ducktales also somehow remained mostly the same minus a few subsittions (Such as swapping in gizmoduck for littlebulb, adding Della to teh shot of launchpad, and adding Della to the credits period). So while it’s not 100% new, the shot at the end and the race with the monster thing are both kept, it’s still almost entirely new stuff and while it’ll likely last into season 3, it dosen’t make it any less impressive Dana got this. Not the most impressive thing she’s gotten away with but given the most impressive thing is “letting her have a bi lead on a network that at most let a character have a gay friend in the past”, it’s understandable.

So with that we get into the meat of the episode as Luz vlog’s to her mom. Given she probably can’t send the message it feels more like a way to try ane perk herself up as well as fill in new members of the audience. It’s very clear from this scene and especially the next after it things AREN’T okay: We see Eda still trying to use her powers and while it turns out she has a scrap of magic left, i’ts not enough to actually do anything. Lilith is coping badly with the sheer weight of her actions against her sister and her fall from grace in the public eye, and the house has a whole has to now bounty hunt to scrape out some money. Theirs still SOME hope for Luz getting home at least as she has the key to the door, but otherwise despite her best efforts to say otherwise and stay positive it’s clear the reality is a lot more yikes than sh’ed like to admit.

Things aren’t better when they go into town as our heroes get smacked in the face with how much worse off they are: the Emperor, like any pety dictator, has cracked down hard in the face of resistance, putting up more emperor's coven sponsored stalls in the marketplace. It also shows that as breifly lived and kinda sudden the people turning against Belos and for Eda in season 1 was it’s had some nice lasting consequences: Belos is clearly just a tad rattled the people turned against him and is taking steps to make sure that NEVER happens again by cranking up his authority as much as he can without making them turn against him harder. After all if he comes down TOO hard on them, it’ll just make them rebel more. But if he say simply adds a few more stalls and some more propoganda, no one’s going to protest... and more importantly they’ll be too afraid to.

It helps thoguh that his main opposition has taken a PR Hit. Eda barely gets any money for her cart of bounties as the asshole at the cart and everyone around knows she lost her powers. Lilith has also, to her horror, been swiftly replaced by the new kid in town: Golden Guard, aka the mysterious teen we saw at the end of last season and in the opener. Belos has likely done this for two reasons: because he needed a new mouth of sauron to spread his bullshit the public would love to replace the liked and respected Lilith.. and because he likely knew Lilith didn’t like GG that much and promoting him in her place would piss him off. GG is a magical progidy, and despite only being 16 according to word of god he’s already high up.

So yeah our heroes aren’t in a great place and Eda shoots down Luz’ suggestoin of taking on a Selkiedama, a rare sea creature with a massive bounty. But with her mentor and new ally both having taken a hit to the self esteem pancreas, it’s Luz’ turn as she overhears Eda talking to lilith.. and finds out Eda’s not eating. She can’t get any apple blood because she needs to spend what she can food wise on Luz, as there’s not much Luz can healthily process out here. It’s a sad and often far too often real circumstance: a parent forced to not eat or barely eat so their child can.

This honestly reminds me of Steven Universe in the best way. Like Steven for Luz while this wasn’t a game, as shown by both’s hard work and dedication towards becoming a crystal gem and a witch respectively, it was still a fun adventure like something out of a fantasy novel. Sure there was danger and the constant threat of Eda getting caught and her curse acting up.. but both were manageable. Eda was so unstoppably powerful only Belos could challenge her and with him unwilling or unable to leave his castle to go fight her, there was no one who could stand a resonable threat. The Most Luz had to deal with was interpersonal stuff and by the time of the two part season 1 finale most of that was settled: Amity had gone from hating her due to a series of misunderstandings to having a massive crush on her, Willow had gained confidence, Gus was.. gus (He might just need a touch more focus this season just saying), and the one threat at school in Boscha had been taken down too many pegs to matter anymore. By the time of the finale Luz had gained magic, friends, love, and confidence. She had everything except how to tell her mom about all this really.

The finale.. sent all that crashing down. It showed just how precarious everything outside her friend group was: the curse finally overwhelmed eda, Lilith sunk to her lowest to mamke it happen, and Belos very nearly won. While Luz proved capable fighting various mooks and still ultimately won the day out, her fight with Belos showed how ultimately out classed she was. This went from a fun magical adventure to a genuine battle for freedom and for the very soul of the boilling isles.. and one Luz is now throughly aware she’s badly outmatched in.

To make matters worse her own choices left them in no shape to fight said battle: Luz’s decision to try and cure Eda with the hat lead to her capture and Eda going full owl, and while it was partly Eda’s own decision to destroy the door, it was Luz who ultimately had to push that button and did so on the boiling isles side of it, trapping her here possibly forever. While Luz made an udnerstandable decision in the first case and the right one in the second, they still had conseqeunces: lilith had to give up her own magic and take on part of the curse to get Eda back.. and eda was left with no magic, no income and no clue how to move forward. Before doing the right thing either lead to some wild shenanignas that ultimately turned out fine or lead to good things.. now Luz is seeing sometimes being a hero means that even when you did everything for the right reasons or did everything you SHOULD have done.. it still costs you. She’s now stuck here making Eda’s life visably harder, not that Eda cares.

I genuinely love this: it adds depth and weight to things: while Luz can still HAVE fun one off adventures, her adventures have now left a mark and while she still has her loveable optimsim i’ts slowly slipping.. it breaks this episode as we’ll see and while i’ts restored by the end of the same, i’ts very clear she won’t make it out of this the same person she came in.

So while Luz and King sale the seven seas, Lilith tries to put her mind at ease kicking off her subplot.. which i’m covering in full now because they don’t intersect at all till the last scene. So Lilith is not taking loosing everything well and instead is just having a mope sesh. Eda walks buy with a bandolier of potions like she’s some magical version of Cable... side note whoever writes the next cable ongoing, consider that will you? That’d be dope. Eda’s apparently realized there’s ANOTHER avenue for her powers: potions. They don’t require magic, so she can just sell some minor ones off.

Lilith, wanting to both prove her sister and Belos wrong while also GENUINELY wanting to make up for how shitty her behavior was, decides she too can make a potion, a scrying potion into the palace. With Eda still a fugitive it would be handy to have a peak into Belos castle.

But getting the ingredients proves harder than expected as Lilith can’t accept she’s just not as powerful as she was or that she actually needs help now. Help comes in the form of Hooty.

No seriously he is an actual help... coming to genuinely help Lilith because he assumes their friends. Granted he assumes he’s everyones friend when really out of those he’s met outside of those random mooks King actively despises him, Eda is constantly annoyed with him, Luz is the same but tries to be ncier about it, Willow and Gus are terrified of him and Amity tried to murder him. Granted ALL of that minus king is warranted: he tries way too hard with everyone so he ends up pissing them off or creeping them out.

Lilith only tolerates him because he is mildly useful and clearly won’t go away aka the reason everyone does. But her reason for rejcting his help, later screaming in his face to go away, is personal: Lilith wants to prove she can be self sufficent. To prove she can do this herself. In hindsight.. that’s always been there. She doggedly insited on trying ot cure Eda her way. Said apparently cure involved someone else sure but it was someone stronger who Lilith trusted over anyone else, even Eda. Lilith lost EVERYTHING making things right with Eda and is just depsperate to prove she can still be useful, that she isn’t outmoded without the coven or everything she dedicated her entire life to.

But Lilith learns the hard way that you really can’t do everything yourself and ends up annoying a colony of flaming bees.. or was it fire hornets.. I don’t know the point is they create fire and they sting people I think semantics aren’t necessary here. Lilith ends up surrounded and admits she needs help from hooty.. who gladly comes back, saves her ass and takes her yelling in stride, it’s what friends do. And it’s what Lilith needed: to see she dosen’t HAVE to do this alone and prove herself. What she was is gone but she can still be something new. And in the process Hooty FINALLY makes an actual friend, not by trying to force himself into their life or jabbing them in the eye while annoying them after they specifically said if he annoys them again they’ll kill him, but simply by doing something nice and being genuinely friendly. Both got what htey needed: lilith needed some support from someone she hadn’t horribly wronged and thus dosen’t have a complciated relatoinship with, and Hooty needed a friend. Awwww. they also got the ingredients for the potion so we’ll see how that panned out after the main plot.

Back a few hours and aboard a ship, Luz hops aboard, embracing the pirate’s life .. well a pirate’s outfit even though she’s a sailor. Look you can only wear a pirate outfit in about ten ways that are socially acceptable, I can’t blame her for getting after it. For the record those settings are: 1) A Pirate’s funeral 2) Halloween 3) A Funeral At Halloween 4) In honor of Stefan Karl Steffanson who played Robbie Rotten, either his birthday or his death day. Or just in general. I miss you man. 5) To kick Johnny Depp in the Nutsack 6) To drink Rum 7) To Pirate Media over the internet 8) At your Pop Pop’s funeral 9) As a sailor 10) To reinact Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest

IT’s sad getting older is what i’m saying so if they want to dress like pirates they can. Oh and for added irony the vessel is working for the emperor and GG is on board. Oops. Luz is unaware though and successful wins over the sailors by scraping barnacles using king’s horn, swabbing the deck and doing a jig as all pirates or sailors do, to a traditoinal she shanty.

youtube

Okay sadly not but come on Disney, you can afford “Lean On Me” and “All I Do Is Win” but not this?

Anyways King decides to go looking for crackers and instead finds a message with the emperor’s sigil.. and the golden guard who quickly grabs him.

But while our heroes prepare to follow the Selkiedama to it’s lair, they instead get a shock when a mystery pirate grabs their pay.. which the emperor decided was a good idea to keep on board with a crew that could steal it at any time, in a raging sea where it could be lost at any time, and with a crew going after a sea beast that could capsize the thing in an instant.

Luz and mystery pirate scuffle over the loot.. only for the Loot to get lost in the sea. As for the pirate it’s naturally Eda, which did genuinely floor me on first watch. Season 1 had the two off doing unrealted stuff as often as it had their plots intersect or had both in the same plot, if not more, so I figured Eda was going to show up in Lilith’s plot instead, or at the very least at the end of this plot. Not smack in the middle. Luz learns two things from Eda: one that the Selkiedama is actually peaceful as long as you don’t piss it off and that’s the REAL reason she didn’t take the job rather than not wanting to risk Luz, and two, this is an emperial ship.

The two argue for a second before the real threat arrives: We finally PROPERLY meet the Golden Guard. GG is played by Zeno Robinson, who is now double dipping Disney Show wise as he’s currently Remy on Big City Greens. He’s also the Green Poncho on Craig of the Creek, a storyline I really need to catch up on.. and a show I need to catch up on in general. Point is he’s awesome at what he does and also has the best twitter handle i’ve ever seen.

I also did not know before pointing out his twitter handle he also added the golden guard name to his name but clearly is VERY proud to be part of this series and rightfully so.

He’s an utter treat in this role too as the Guard is awesome from second one. He starts putting on the offical airs planning to arrest Eda and force Luz to continue sailing for money and easily curbstomps both. Eda is a bit more understandable as while she apparently can fight hand to hand, she’s far more used to either using her staff or her magic. Luz though we saw curbstomp a good chunk of the emperoror’s soldiers and scratch Belos. She didn’t remotely stand a CHANCE against Belos, but still the fact she was able to do anything to the strongest witch on the island is an achivment. GG just easily rolls her over.

We then get his REAL game: he’ll let both off free if they kill the selkiedama for him> He doesn't even know WHY the emperor wants him dead... he’s just following orders and clearly respects the man as much as Lilith did. It also gives me the feeling he’s been doing black ops style stuff for the emperor, stuff the Emperor couldn’t risk with Lilith as if she had to do some attrocites that werne’t business as usual, she might get suspcious and belivie lilith. His loyal possible son though? Someone he probably at least partially raised? GG will gladly do whatever the emperor asks with a smirk. Well presumibly. That is not an expressive mask. Is damn cool.

So after the two resist he simply gets a bit flustered/ annoyed and just pulls out his trump card: King, who acts like a scared dog and says he’ll kill this bird if they don’t do what he asks. Also he somehow thinks king is a bird... as @jess-the-vampire put it when we talked about the episode he’s either never seen a bird in his life or was just mocking them. Me I like to think of him like Jeb from scott the woz, just replace Gex with Birds.

Golden Guard: What about last week? \ Belos: That was a car wash.

Anyways with no other options Luz commits to doing a murder and Eda heads after her. Eda finally confronts Luz on why this is so important and we get easily the best part of this episode that dosen’t involve everyone’s faviorite golden little shit. Luz opens up that she heard all of that, and while Eda tries to deflect it with a freaks stay together Luz snaps at her her that doing so has only gotten her hurt. This is where that point I mentioned about things sinking in and the stakes being way higher comes in: Luz feels like being in Eda’s life has COST EDA TOO MUCH. The petrifcation, the loss of her powers, having to scrimp to feed only one of them... it’s just too much. Luz dosen’t want to keep runing her life.

But as Eda explains in her own way... Luz made her life BETTER. She made Eda want to be a better person, made her try harder to be one. Luz being around makes her better so no matter what has happened or what she’s lost to keep the kid... Eda will NEVER regret the gains. She gained a daughter, and that’s more than enough. It’s what Luz really failed to realize: sacrificing for someone you love isn’t a burden. It was Eda’s choice. Eda could’ve barely fed both of them. but she choose making sure luz got something she could digest and could thrive. And when you look back a lot of the choices were Eda’s: eda choose to keep using her powers to save Luz knowing what woudl happen, choose to hide the condition in the first place, choose to hide how bad it was and WANTED Luz to destroy the door over hre own saftey. Eda has always put Luz over herself like any good parent would and it took Eda just outright saying that for Luz to realize it: that no matter how bad thigns are.. they aren’t worth what they’ve gained. Luz isn’t protective of Luz because she thinks less of her.. she’s protective because this is her kid and she’ll do anything for her.

Still Eda has no intention to let Luz murder an innocent creature either and they come up with a plan, puttnig on a shadow play that makes it look like they killed the selkie dama using light magic. GG ... geninely keeps up his end of the bargin. Sure he leaves them stranded, but even that’s not too bad when you think about it: Luz can use ice magic, he likely knew that before even fighting her. While it won’t be an EASY voyage home, he knows she can manage it. He then warns luz to try and stay out of trouble for her own saftey. It shows beneath the mask of being the emperor’s servant he’s a decent kid who genuinely thinks he’s doing the right thing: He’s what Eda COULD’VE been in his shoes, someone with all the power and convidence.. but unlike Eda the exact wrong person telling them what to do. He’s also a massive loveable dork, lifting up King’s curtain over and over again just to see him scurry around panicked and best of all popping a FUCKING WHEELIE and going BYEEEEEEE. i just.. I have no words. It’s perfections. I already loved this kid for popping a witch wheelie but then he goes and added BYEEEEEEEEE to it. Beautiful. Can’t wait for more.

So after going to Eda, who pulled off her first glyps in the process, and confirming the selkies are all alive the selkie barfs up a fat lump. HIS NAME’S GENE! that turns out to be selkiegris which like Ambergris is worth a LOT. So our heroes are fincially secure and playfully roll around in the barf. I love a job that allows me to say things like that.

So wrap up: our heroes head back home, now secure, Lilith shows off her potion which our heroes aren’t sure what to do with and as they prepare to drawn on hooty, with Lilith promising to protect her bestie... we get a bit deeper into the castle and find BELOS HAS REPAIRED THE DOOR. “knock knock, human”

Final Thoughts: Seperate Tides is an EXCELLENT opener. it greatly strengthen’s luz’s character, introduces a great new threat and wonderfully expands on the fallout from the finale while helping deepen lilith and givng her her own weird animal sidekick in Hooty, a friendship I never expected but sure as shit love. It also greatly improves on the subplots of season 1, with this one being unrelated but still help forwarding plots and characters. While I didn’t hate most of season 1′s subplots, a good chunk were just irrelvant hyjinks with eda and/or king that made them feel like side characters in their own damn show. Hopefully the trend keeps up> This is an impressive opener and I hope the season keeps up this level of quality

Next Time: It’s Luz vs a magical Karen as we meet Amity’s mom. Also Lilith and eda try to master Glyphs. All this next week.

#the owl house #luz noceda #eda clawthrone #lilith clawthrone #king #golden guard #emperor belos #seperate tides #owl house spoiliers

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a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 5

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The daughter of House Caspian begins to realize her place in a world of strict tradition and hierarchy. A tragedy strikes Winterfell, bringing her closer to the Starks.

The brush slid across the thick paper, making a beautifully straight line. The black paint was bold against the paper, which wasn’t completely white, but it was the closest she’d seen, almost as white as snow. What a wonderful birthday gift. Y/N had a thin wooden palette that she perched on her lap, allowing her to take the paper anywhere and paint what she saw. She already had ideas of what to send Ned, although transporting a painting without damaging it would be troublesome. Maybe it was best to just keep it in Winterfell until he came back? He had to return soon, he was seventeen. It had to be soon.

It’s what Lyanna talked about often, and Y/N didn’t blame her. She wanted him back too, though maybe for different reasons. She was pleased he still kept writing to her, entertaining her childish whims, although she didn’t feel childish anymore. They didn’t talk about ‘childish’ topics, either, it was always… all sorts of things. Y/N could write to Ned about anything on her mind, and he did the same.

I hope we can talk as easily. What if he comes back and I don’t know what to say? Y/N wondered if that was a silly thought. She refocused on her painting, dabbing a small brush into the paints she’d set up beside her. There weren’t many colors to work with, but that made it an interesting challenge. The training yard was busy this late, so she had plenty of subjects to observe. Painting moving figures was a new challenge. It wouldn’t be a perfect still life, instead, she’d try her own composition of movement and action.

Y/N hummed to herself as she worked. She had only two hours before the sun would set, but she was confident she could finish the rest of it in her room.

“Don’t most girls paint flower fields and vases?”

“I’m a lady,” Y/N responded. She didn’t look up from her painting right away, wanting to finish a few more brush strokes. “You should always be gracious to a lady, especially if you’re a future ‘Lord Stark’.”

Brandon grinned. “I was going to scare you, but I decided to be nice instead. That’s very gracious, I think.”

Now you sound like your little brother. Y/N set her brush down next to the paints. She observed Brandon was still in his traveling clothes. “When did you return?”

“Just over an hour ago. It was a slow ride, Ser Roderick wouldn’t let me go ahead of the escort.”

“There’s a reason for that.” Y/N smiled at his impatience. “How was the Rills?”

“The same as always. Next week I’m going to see Lord Manderly. While I’m there, I could stop by your family’s castle. Perhaps I could bring a gift to them.”

“That would be wonderful. You know they would love to have your company, my lord.”

Brandon’s smile was infectious, Y/N had to admit. Thank the gods he was over that irritating phase he had before, acting like he was too grown-up and superior to bother with Y/N and his younger siblings. Well, he could still be irksome to Benjen and Lyanna, but they paid him back tenfold with their usual mischief. Y/N was just pleased he acted like the lord he should be around her. Pleasantries made things easier, and it really would be kind of him to bring her father a pelt or her mother a rare book.

Right now, he was leaning over to see what she was painting, as he’d often been doing the past year. She knew he had no interest in art, but he still made a point to ask about what she was working on.

It’s good for him to at least feign interest and learn about others. Maybe all those scoldings from Lord and Lady Stark are finally sinking in. Y/N thought. She showed him what she’d been working on, groups of men at swordplay. “They’re finally used to my sketching, I think. At first they gave me peculiar looks.”

“It’s because you were staring.” That charming smile turned to an amusing pout. “You shouldn’t be staring at strange men, Y/N, or drawing them.”

“They aren’t strange at all! I know their names, and they’re sworn men, besides. Are you just upset I haven’t drawn you?”

She was teasing like Lyanna and Benjen did, but he didn’t respond like she thought. Brandon actually huffed. “Better me than some old guardsman.”

“Sit down, then.” Y/N gestured to the seat next to her on the bench, the side not covered in paints and paper. “Portraits are always good practice.”

Brandon looked at the spot, only waiting a moment before taking a seat. He was still windblown from the road, smelling like horses and leather, but it wasn’t too unpleasant. Y/N fought the urge to smooth out his hair — it was such a mess, but he wasn’t a boy. Even Benjen was getting too old for her fussing.

“So you know, I’m not the sort to embellish.” Y/N said, her hand darting across a blank piece of paper. Messy sketches were fine for something like this. “So I will be drawing that unruly hair and those red ears.”

“They aren’t red,” Brandon grumbled and rubbed at the ears in question.

Y/N didn’t look up from her drawing. “They are. So are your cheeks. Are you cold?”

“I’d be a poor Stark if weather like this got me cold. Shouldn’t you be concentrating?”

“I am.” Y/N had to glance up to make sure the eye shape was right. Brandon had such an amusing expression, it was making her work difficult. “If you could be still, it would be easier.”

Brandon said nothing to that, only furrowing his brows further. It was startling how much he looked like Lord Stark, while Lyanna took after her mother. Benjen was a clear mix of the two, but all of them had that long face and dark coloring. She pictured Ned’s face in her mind, trying to remember the last time she saw him. Gods, was that three years ago? Maybe four? He must look so different now. Taller, with a proper sword and the skills to back it up - and what about those grey eyes? Would they be darker or lighter? Did he finally cut that brown hair, to better fit in with the Eyrie, or did he keep it long and Northern?

“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Y/N said Someone in the distance drew her attention away, which she was grateful for. She waved at him. “Ben!”

Brandon scowled at his little brother walked up. Benjen was already taller than Y/N, thanks to his spindly limbs. He looked around at the art supplies and Brandon’s awkward posture. “I hate it say it, but you’d be better off with a different subject, Y/N. There’s only so much you can do with this one.”

Benjen dodged out of the way of his older brother’s grip. His reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. “Big words from a skinny rat!” Brandon said, getting up to grab at his brother again, but Benjen was too quick. The older Stark may have been as big as his father now, but he had a certain … lack of grace. No doubt he was tired from the trip, too.

“Should I use smaller words?” Benjen easily danced around him.

“Do this somewhere else!” Y/N laughed. That was the end of the little sitting session, then. Brandon couldn’t be still after getting riled up; he was like a dog in that way. “Be careful, would you?”

“I’m just going to teach him a lesson—!” Brandon said, finally getting Benjen in his grasp. He cursed when his brother easily twisted out of his grip and hit his nose. It wasn’t a real punch, but it still hurt, and Brandon shook his head while Benjen unhooked his sword from his belt.

“Thanks!” Benjen scurried off, carrying the sword that was too heavy for him to actually wield. Y/N rolled her eyes at how Brandon predictably ran after him with a fresh new string of curses. He had only been home a few hours before he was going back to silliness with his brother. Lyanna would have joined in too, had she been here. Their latest pasttime was stealing the beautiful new sword Brandon was so proud of. Benjen just liked to stir up trouble, but Lyanna was sour she couldn’t have steel of her own.

What has she been doing today? Y/N hadn’t seen much of her friend today. Lyanna didn’t enjoy the last feast, which was a small affair - only half a dozen families were there, and not all their members - but she was still put off. Y/N hadn’t known Lyanna to retire before her, but that night, she did. It was usually the fatigued Lady Stark that was the early departure, not her fiery daughter.

Thinking about it now, Lyanna was unusually quiet through breakfast this morning, and she had been riding most of the day. Y/N considered that maybe she should have gone with her, even if being near a horse still made her shudder. She could have at least sat on the edge of the riding field and watched Lyanna. Maybe she wanted to be alone. If she really wanted me there, I know she would have dragged me.

With all her art supplies carefully packed up, Y/N returned to the castle and planned to find out what Lyanna’s mood was. I could be overthinking everything. We’re women now, four and ten years, we don’t have to cling about each other anymore.

Y/N nodded to the servants and guards when she saw them, giving a smile to those she knew well. They had long been familiar, pleasant faces that she relied upon. It recently occurred to Y/N that she knew them better than the servants of Whitetide, whose faces were rapidly disappearing from her memory. Maybe if her parents didn’t visit twice or thrice a year, and if she didn’t love them so much, she’d begin to lose their faces, too.

Their shared bedchamber was warm from a low-burning fire in the hearth. Y/N set her supplies down on her desk before shedding her thick cloak. It was fastened with a lovely silver manta ray that had a tiny pearl for an eye, a gift from Lady Stark herself. Y/N’s name day had passed a few months ago, and while her parents couldn’t visit, her second family was right there beside her. Lady Stark’s hands had become pale and thin, but she still wanted to fasten the pin herself after presenting it to Y/N. Then she patted her head like adults did to children, but Y/N couldn’t mind it.

Y/N was so caught up in turning the little manta ray in her hands, she didn’t hear the bedroom door open and close. The stomping of feet made her jump, and she swiveled to see Lyanna yanking off her riding boots and shaking the snow off them in the most unladylike way.

“So you were riding all day,” Y/N said, setting the pin into her modest jewelry box. She offered a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Lyanna didn’t respond right away. She pulled at her cloak instead, tossing it on one of the chairs by the hearth. Y/N’s smile fell. There was an obvious dark cloud around her friend. Lyanna kicked her boots aside and huffed as she sank into an overstuffed chair. She was becoming too leggy to curl up into it like a child.

“Why in the seven hells can I not wear riding trousers?” She said irritably. “I’m sure the washerwomen are sick of cleaning the smell out of my dresses.”

Y/N sat in the chair across from her, settling herself into it. “And the horsehair.”

“It itches terribly. If I had a tunic, it wouldn’t be so bothersome, nor would the branches in my way.” Lyanna picked a leaf off her sleeve. Trouble was brewing in her grey eyes. There was fire in them even without the hearth lighting her face, a natural energy that possessed her entire person. Lyanna was more wolf than any of them, and when she hunched in the chair with her long legs drawn to her chest, she looked like a trapped one.

Y/N waited for her to speak first. There was something on her friend’s mind, but she had to find the words. Once she had them, Lyanna said, “You weren’t bothered at that feast. The last one, with the Karstarks and Glovers and Cassels.”

It was strange for her to bring it up now, but Y/N had just been thinking about it as well. Overall, Y/N would dare to say she enjoyed herself, even if the Karstark boys were too blunt in their desire to dance with her.

“I wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t as crowded as it usual; I could hear the music for once. I was able to dance for a while, and the lords and their sons behaved.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say. “You left early. You didn’t want to dance?”

“Of course not!” Lyanna responded so sharply, it startled her old friend. “Why would I? Why would you?”

Y/N had no idea what Lyanna meant by that. That embarrassing dance with Roose Bolton a year ago had made her self-conscience of how clumsy her movements were. Lady Stark was delighted that Y/N took an interest in learning grace and how to carry herself better; and didn’t it make sense to test it out? Now that she didn’t overthink the steps, she could enjoy the exercise and the music. The company was good, and when she was tired, she japed around with Benjen and little Jory.

With all those racing thoughts, Y/N simply said, “I enjoy dancing, if that’s what you mean. What’s the matter with that?”

Lyanna shook her head, her brown hair falling farther out of a braid that was already coming undone. She’d lost another set of silk hair ribbons. “I don’t know how you stand it. You’re just a prize to them, you know, a bauble. You shouldn’t even amuse them. Neither of us should.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The men! The lords or their sons, whichever! We’re just stupid little brides to them. Didn’t you notice them looking at you? Shoving their sons at you? Lord Karstark had them all lined up! And even if they’re married, they’ll leer!”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous, Lyanna,” Y/N stammered. “Where did this come from?”

“Y/N, we’re women grown now!” Lyanna was bursting with energy and frustration that she couldn’t get out fast enough. “My mother married at six and ten! It’s nearly time for us, time for arrangements! Soon every lord will be nibbling at my father’s heels to take me off his hands, and no doubt your own lord father has received letters from all the ones you danced with.”

“Lyanna. Did someone tell you something?” Y/N asked. She was already trying to avoid thinking of the future, and Lyanna had never discussed it with her. She thought her friend didn’t think of it at all. “Before you, Brandon will marry, and that hasn’t even been discussed.”

“Of course it has! Why would they tell us? They can marry me off without finding him a bride, and without asking what I think.” Her cheeks were burning with red anger now. “I’m a Stark, so I can’t stay in the North. They’ll send me away somewhere — somewhere South, because where else? I’ll have to leave Winterfell, while my brothers and everyone I love stay!”

Y/N went to Lyanna, taking her hands in her own. She squeezed them tight. “Where did all this come from? Have your parents been talking?”

“No one needs to tell me. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Lyanna said, looking Y/N right in the eyes. “That’s what we’ve got to look forward to, Y/N. The feasts aren’t meant to be fun for us. Maybe for the men, but not for us. We’re there to be picked and chosen, like prize fillies.”

Lyanna squeezed their hands tight, so tight it hurt right away. She stared at Y/N’s clean nails and smooth palms. Except for the occasional smudges from paint, they were always like this. Lyanna looked at her own, already becoming calloused at the palms and thumb, often edged with dirt around her nailbeds.

Y/N was at a loss. Her friend’s harsh words were true enough; she was well aware of what their duties as women were. It crossed her mind now and again, the thought of marriage and that she’d have to return home eventually so her parents could begin to plan. She’d push those thoughts away, hoping the day would come slowly. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, or her dear friends.

Still, she said, “It… It has to happen eventually. Our parents aren’t cruel, they wouldn’t give us terrible husbands, and they’d talk to us before any arrangement. When we have to leave Winterfell —”

“You won’t.” Lyanna pulled their hands apart. “You’ll be staying here, Y/N, and I’ll be sent away.”

“What? No, when my parents are ready arrange a match, they’ll call me back to Whitetide.”

“You aren’t going back! Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to marry one of my brothers!”

After that statement, the only sound in the bedroom was the crackling of the fire. Lyanna didn’t back down. In this light, her Stark eyes weren’t grey at all, only hot steel.

“How do you know that?” Y/N said. With the loss of Lyanna’s hands, she nervously tugged at end of her long sleeves. “Did … did someone say —?”

“No one has to! I thought you knew! You’re fourteen, a woman grown, and my parents haven’t sent you back, nor have your’s asked for you. When they meet, they’re always whispering and glancing around. Brandon will marry outside the North, as the oldest son, and Ned will marry inside, as the second. Benjen will serve Winterfell. It’s how these matters are done, Y/N.”

Y/N’s throat closed as she choked up. Her blood was rushing in discomfort. She didn’t want to fight, she wished they could just change the subject. What brought this on? She’d never seen Lyanna in a mood like this. “You don’t — you don’t know that. Maybe my parents will send for me in a month. We don’t know.”

“Maybe they will, but when it’s time for you to leave, they’ll send me away, too. There’s a reason mother doesn’t care if I spurn the lordlings here.”

Lyanna’s anger had broken again, now it was just frustration and sadness. The two girls stood in silence. The flames of the fire made shadows in the room, and that was the only thing that moved for some time. The shadows seemed to grasp at the two of them, little fingers reaching for their dresses and hair. Y/N was the one who stepped forward, wanting to make it better.

“We’ll always be friends,” Y/N said, trying to keep her own choked up voice steady. “No matter what. I won’t ever forget you. I’ll write you a dozen letters a month if you get sent to the south.”

Lyanna was tired. She couldn’t attempt a smile, but she said, “That’s more than you write to Ned. If he ended up in a green field instead of a mountain, would you have sent more?”

“No, the dozen is only for you.” Y/N said, even if she cursed the slowness of her letters to the Eyrie so many times, it felt like a mantra. She touched Lyanna’s shoulder. “Let’s ready for supper, Lyanna. You’ve been riding a long time.”

Lyanna only reluctantly went along with her. After dinner, they changed into their nightgowns and brushed each other’s hair, as usual, but there was no laughter and joking this time. When they huddled under the furs, Lyanna faced away, still deep in her thoughts. Y/N didn’t know what else to say, if anything at all would help, so she closed her eyes.

“What are you reading?” Benjen’s long hair swung back and forth as he hung upside down. Y/N looked up, wondering when he managed to scramble right above her. Just a few minutes ago he was struggling to get on the first branch.

“A letter,” Y/N said, “Although I think you already knew that.”

Benjen grinned. “I did, and I know who it’s from.” He swung back up on the branch and easily moved himself to a standing position. He reached for another branch and lifted himself with ease, starting his disappearance into the leaves. With each branch he climbed, a few leaves fell down. Y/N pulled one from her hair.

She rested against the trunk and returned to her letter. Ned was writing about Robert’s attempt at jousting. He much preferred the melee, but ladies preferred the jousting, he said. Y/N was pleased Ned stayed out of all that. He also tried to doodle a little manta ray, in response to the direwolves and cats and deer she often drew on the margins of her letters. They were… arrow-y looking. Close enough.

I’ll have to pick up some skills from you the next time we meet. I don’t think I’d be a good student, but just watching you paint with my own eyes would be enough. You’ve written about it before, but I think hearing you talk about it would be much different. I want to you to tell me.

Y/N closed the letter hastily, wondering if her beating heart and sweaty palms were showing on her face. She glanced around and caught eyes with Brandon. She kept noticing his staring in the past hour, even though he was across the training yard trying to practice. It was a little strange. Are there leaves in my hair again? She touched her hair from the top of her head to her pearl. Brandon seemed annoyed, so she’d prefer he kept his gaze to himself.

The tree branches shook above her, and she heard feet scuffling around. “Ben, be careful!” Y/N called upward. “You shouldn’t climb so high!”

Benjen either didn’t hear her, or was pretending to not hear. Y/N sighed, folding her letter, stashing it in her belt and standing up. She craned her head, trying to spy the wiry boy through the leaves. He may have been a year younger, but she fretted over him from time to time, thinking of her little brothers back in Whitetide.

“Maybe he’ll climb high enough to catch a cloud and float away.” Brandon was beside her before she knew it, and Y/N was glad he didn’t seem as bothered as she thought. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Maybe,” Y/N giggled. She heard more rattling, but it didn’t sound like leaves. It was metal chains, and coming from a different direction. Behind the two of them, the maester approached them as fast as he could, the old man breathing hard as the chains swayed around his neck. He didn’t seem to care about the mud dirtying the end of his robes.

“What’s happened?” Brandon asked while the maester tried to catch his breath. In all the years she’d been here, Y/N had never seen the man so harried, and it seemed neither had Brandon. For a panicked, irrational moment, Y/N thought there was a raven from Whitetide. Dark wings, dark words.

“Lady… Lady Stark has … a … an illness.” The maester took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “She has been … weak, as you know, but … it’s far worse than I thought. She needs to be kept apart from everyone else at the Keep. When was the last time you spoke with her, children?”

Brandon took a moment to respond. “This morning, I talked with her, she— she hugged me, but —”

The maester shook his head. “And you, Lady Y/N?”

“Last night, at dinner,” Y/N said quietly. “She took my hand…”

She remembered the kind gesture, and now weary and pale Lady Stark looked. That night, her eyes looked especially tired. She’d begun to hold onto her husband or one of the servants when she walked to and from her room, the place she stayed in the most nowadays. No one seemed to want to talk about her worsening condition, not even the Lady herself. Out of respect to her, no one mentioned it openly.

The leaves danced around them as Benjen swooped down from a low branch. “Can’t we see her?”

“I just said you cannot,” The maester said. “She will be kept away from here on, and we will burn her things and anything she has come in contact with. Now, if the three of you will come with me, I’ve already spoken with Lord Stark and Lyanna…”

Lady Lyarra Stark died within a week. The children heard of the passing suddenly, as her husband was the only one who could visit her through her last days. No amount of guards or a maester’s lecturing would keep Lord Stark from her bedside.

Y/N stood next to Lyanna at the funeral, allowing her friend to clutch her as they all prayed in the godswood. Lady Stark’s bones had been kept in a beautifully engraved wooden chest, and they would be moved to a place of honor in the crypts, but that was little comfort to the children she left behind.

Y/N said some prayers aloud, mouthed others, but kept her head down the entire time. She heard the servants of Winterfell crying and praying, and clearer than that, Lyanna’s crying into the fur draped around Y/N’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled, but Y/N could still feel her body shaking. Y/N herself was trying to keep her tears from rolling down her face. The warmth of them stung her cold cheeks terribly.

Benjen was quiet on the other side of her, staring up at the red leaves like he was in a daze. Brandon seethed beside his father, who was as old as the stone lords in the crypts. Y/N was anxious to see Lord Stark’s expression, knowing it would either scare her or make her tears come faster.

The Starks stayed behind to keep vigil while the servants and guards returned to the keep. Y/N didn’t know how long she stayed kneeling in the snow. She listened to Lyanna’s quieting tears and remembering the kindnesses Lady Stark had given her. Anytime Y/N missed her own mother, Lady Stark was ready to speak with her, to teach her something, or hold her for a while. Y/N couldn’t imagine how the others felt. She thought of her mother now, safe in Whitetide, and desperately wished she could see her.

“Return to the keep,” Lord Stark said after some time. Y/N still didn’t know how long they’d been outside. “All of you.”

“Father —” Brandon started.

“Go.”

Their lord father’s voice was hoarse and hard. He didn’t look at any of his children as they slowly stood around him. Y/N’s legs had gone completely numb from both the cold and kneeling. She wobbled, and Lyanna tried to help her stay upright, no doubt just as weak-legged herself. Benjen found his way to his sister’s side, holding onto her like she held onto Y/N. It reminded Y/N of when he was younger, tagging alongside the two of them.

Y/N glanced back, noticing that Brandon was still trying to linger by his father. She didn’t know if they exchanged words, but eventually Brandon caught up to them as they walked back to the keep.

They all walked slowly, and the Winterfell that greeted them was eerily quiet. The kitchen staff worked with no cheer or haste, the smith’s anvil was quiet, there were no carts or wagons being pulled through the gate. At the feast hall, the candles were burning low, and there was only one servant tending to the cleaning the floors. Her scrubbing was interrupted by intermittent sniffling.

Ned couldn’t be here, Y/N thought not for the first time. Her heart sunk into her gut, making her feel sick. She knew the others were thinking the same. What could I say? What could I possibly say?

She mechanically walked to the main parlor, sitting down at the windowsill. Lyanna sat by the hearth, Benjen sat beside his sister, and Brandon had split off from them quickly. Y/N looked out the window, glad it faced away from the Godswood. She had a feeling if it did, she’d see Lord Stark still kneeling in the snow. She recalled Ned told her the Eyrie’s godswood was more of a little forest, and her heart ached even further. It almost made her cry again. How are the gods supposed to watch over him? Or hear him when he’s in trouble?

She would wait for Lord Stark to send word, if it hadn’t already been done, then she’d send a letter to Ned herself. She’d paint something, too, something special. She’d do anything, if only she knew what that was. Why couldn’t he be here? Y/N rubbed at her raw eyes and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, letting the chill hit her dizzying, exhausted head.

Y/N stirred and sat up slowly. Her head was aching from the awkward angle she fell asleep at. She squinted out the window, but there was only darkness. Across the room, the fire was low, and a chill was settling in the room. Y/N pulled her fur cloak closer around her and shivered. Where was everyone?

She slipped off the windowsill and wandered the halls. If it was dinnertime, no one woke her up, and she didn’t smell meats cooking as she entered the great hall. Y/N stepped outside into the fresh snow, wondering if the day had all been a terrible dream.

It wasn’t, though, and she couldn’t hide from it. People died all the time, especially women and children. If it wasn’t this sickness, Lady Stark may have died in childbirth. That was a far more common fate, something Y/N would have to worry about herself one day. Some day soon.

She sighed heavily and hesitated at the edge of the godswood. The darkness was all around her, with the warmth and light of Winterfell far behind. She took a step forward, letting her boot sink into the snow. The moon was waning, giving off the slightest light. The white bark of the trees and the snow glowed on a full moon, but tonight, they disappeared.

One foot in front of the other, the snow crunched below Y/N’s feet. She kept thinking about Ned, imagining his expression, what he would say — she would never know, of course, and that made it worse. She could only write and draw, there was no holding and comforting. The thought of holding him hit her so strongly, her body ached. Lady Stark held her when she worried about her uncle at sea, when she caught sick or when she hurt herself. Y/N wanted to hold Ned like that, even if he was far bigger than she. Maybe this was a stupid, girlish, childish thought. Maybe it was, but stupid words on paper didn’t seem like enough.

There was a clear path that let to the heart tree, but the darkness didn’t help her navigate, a strange noise did. It made her jump at first, but there were no wolves in these woods. She listened carefully. There was the distinct sound of someone shuffling around in the snow, like they were standing up. Y/N anxiously wondered if it was Lord Stark. No, he can’t be here still. It’s been half a day …

She jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice call out, echoing off the snow and the trees. “Who goes there?!”

“I-It’s only me,” Y/N started, ready to apologize to Lord Stark, but the voice sounded off. Too young, too angry. “…Brandon? Is that you?”

The person didn’t respond, but she heard boots trudging clumsily through the snow. She felt a presence next to her, and finally she could see his outline. Y/N reached forward and was surprised to not touch a fur cloak or thick surcoat, but a fairly thin tunic that was frigid cold, and the stiff muscles underneath it. Brandon didn’t flinch away from her, so she kept her hold on his forearms.

“Brandon, come inside.” Y/N said. Her own voice was weak, she realized, and she was already shivering. “It’ll get colder, and it’s already so dark. How long have you been here?”

Brandon sniffled, both from the cold and the tears, she assumed. “Father hasn’t come in. I was waiting …”

Y/N shook her head. He must have come right outside after realizing it was dark and Lord Stark still hadn’t returned to the keep. “You can’t stay out here all night. Come inside. Please?”

Brandon didn’t seem easy on his feet, and he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I-I have a vigil to keep. I have to — father is, s-so I should at least try…”

“You’re cold, and exhausted, besides. You ran out here without anything, you fool. Why aren’t you wearing a cloak?”

He mumbled something in return. Y/N pulled the tall boy toward her, wanting to urge him toward the light in the distance. She was ready to give him her modest cloak, just enough to serve until they reached the warmth of Winterfell, but then he wrapped his arms around her. Y/N let out a noise of surprise as his head slumped on her shoulder. Brandon was heavy, but she kept steady. For a moment, it was all still: The godswood around them, Brandon in her arms, the night above them.

Y/N was about to speak, but then she heard a noise, like a deep gasp. Brandon shook from the cold and his own emotion. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him cry.

Robert shook his leg impatiently, causing the thick heel of his boot to tap against the floor again and again. Normally Lord Arryn would chastise him for his restlessness, but the two of them had been quiet for days. Robert didn’t like quiet, or gloominess. He didn’t want to stay like this a minute longer.

“Has he left his room yet?” Robert asked for the third time.

“Be patient, Robert.” Lord Arryn replied expectedly. “Recall that terrible day you endured.”

He didn’t have to recall his own parents’ demise. Robert thought about it often, a wound that was still fresh, and it only closed up when he drank enough or when a pretty girl sat by him. It’d come back afterward, though, and then he had Ned to talk to.

He shouldn’t have to go through the same thing, Robert thought irritably. The worst part is, he knew Ned wouldn’t want a drink or a pretty girl, or a fight, or a new horse. He would just sit in his own sorrow, brooding in that way he did. The young Baratheon huffed, shifting his restless energy to tapping his fingers on the table. Ned was always talking him out of trouble and listening to his worries — the only person he’d ever spoken to about them. But what did Robert ever do for him?

The Baratheon heir growled in frustration and stood from his seat abruptly. Lord Arryn only glanced up a moment, but Robert was already gone.

He barged into Ned’s room, and was half disappointed Ned wasn’t there — he’d been sitting vigil at the Eyrie’s godswood for too damned long, but that made this next part easier. Ned had several of his girl’s paintings up around his desk, where anyone could see them, but Robert knew where he kept the letters. He opened the bottom drawer and in a wooden box with the direwolf sigil, and there they were.

Robert had read some before. Sometimes Ned would read things aloud, sometimes Robert snuck in here, but they were never that exciting. Always talking about Winterfell or what the horses were doing, nothing salacious like a proper love letter should be. Still, they made Ned happy. Robert picked a few out and tucked them carefully in his doublet.

The grass crunched under his boots as he entered the godswood. The fiery red leaves and snow-white bark looked out of place amongst the rocky Eyrie, he always thought, especially when there was bright green grass and regular trees around the weirwoods. He spotted Ned at the same place he’d been for hours, kneeling. His head was lowered slightly, some of his long brown hair falling around him, and Robert wondered if he was asleep. Then Ned raised his head and turned it.

“Robert?”

“Brought you something.” Robert said. Ned wasn’t getting up, so he awkwardly knelt beside him. Gods, it was murder on the knees, and even in that position he was far taller than Ned. Robert retrieved the letters from his doublet and handed them over.

Ned looked at them with hope, then confusion.

“They aren’t new,” Robert said, chuckling. “I just … I remembered you liked these ones. Y/N was writing something about a festival? And Lyanna stole a sword off your brother. Y/N wrote about her dress, and something about a horse…”

He trailed off, wondering if this was a stupid idea. He was terrible at this. These were the letters with the most pictures, giving life to what Y/N wrote about, as clear as any maester’s history book. Ned stared at the papers in his hands, lightly touching a rare self-portrait Y/N had done of her new gown.

I worked on it for two weeks, although your lady mother helped me several times over. It’s the first one I’ve sewn by myself, and I hope I do it justice. This may not be interesting to you, but I’m proud. It’s cerulean and white.

Lyanna wanted me to draw her with Brandon’s sword. She thinks it’s very funny. ‘How can he call himself a lord when he can’t keep hold of his own sword?’ I thought Benjen was the thief, but Lyanna can be just as clever. It took him all day to realize she’d replaced his with a dull training sword.

Do you remember when you found my pearl? You couldn’t forget, I know, but I still think about it when remove it to brush my hair. I’ll never forget that kindness, Ned.

He smiled for the first time in a week. To Robert’s excitement, he made an expression for the first time in days.

“You can go back home,” Robert offered, wanting to keep the mood up. “Even if it’s just for a short time.”

They were men grown, ten and seven years old. If anything, they should have left the Eyrie by now. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time, though Robert didn’t want to go back to Storm’s End after all these years, having to finally take his lordly duties seriously. Ned was a second son, his duty would be commanding the household guard or visiting with minor houses.

Robert had a feeling if Ned left now, he wouldn’t come back to the Eyrie.

“Perhaps.” The Stark said quietly.

Their easy days had to end eventually. Why did it have to be on such a damned sad note?

Robert looked up at the heart tree. Its eerie, foreign face stared down at him. He had no prayers to give, only a quiet request that when Ned returned to Winterfell, it would be safely. The only noise for a long time was the wind rustling the branches of the white trees and the shuffling of the letters as Ned re-read them.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #salt & snow #libra fics #i just realized all the summaries of this fic hint at something sad happening LOL

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charliesradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Corruption

Hello! This is a LATE birthday present for my dear friend @sesukytes ^.^

Happy late bday my dood <3

ENJOY

With Vaggie and Angel out of her life and the hotel still empty, Charlie’s fears became realized. She failed again. Even with a successful redemption program, nobody was interested.

At that point she didn’t know what to do anymore. She didn’t know what she could do anymore.

________________________________

Alastor resided to biding his time after witnessing Angel ascend to Heaven. It was a great shock that the naive little princess seemed to have finally made a breakthrough, but it seemed that it didn’t matter. He waited around to see if the rabble would bite and come running for a “better life”, but not a single desperate soul came even after two months.

Having been bored sick of his empty investment, Alastor decided to make his own move. A month had passed after he heard that Vaggie had ascended and Charlie refused to even leave the hotel. She’d been silent and wasn’t answering his calls nor calling him back.

“A shame, really...” he muttered while stiffly rapping his fingers on his pristine mahogany desk, not caring whether his sharp claws broke through the polish or not. He knew things couldn’t continue as they were. He was generous enough to give her time to recoup and continue on but his patience had finally reached its expiration date.

________________________________

When he walked up to her bedroom door, he already knew exactly what he needed to do. And in her state, leaving her would push her further down the spiral of despair. If he played it right, her broken expression could make up for the waste of time that he spent waiting on the hotel; not that he had many high hopes for it in the first place.

‘To see the broken look on her face...’

Alastor knocked before entering, a bit too eager see the final dregs of hope leave his partner.

What he found was truly pitiful.

She hadn’t been crying, but seemed as if she’d cried herself dry. Instead, she just stared at him blankly, looking broken and lifeless; not at all like her peppy self. Her eye sockets seemed to hollow in, her hair disheveled and somehow she seemed impossibly thinner than ever. When he looked into her eyes he found that the spark was nonexistent, leaving a blank gaze as if all that was left was an empty husk of a being.

Any fun he could have breaking her now was completely drained.

She was pitiful and it took him much effort to find a reason to stick around any longer. Without her life or her smile, Charlie was just a broken doll he couldn’t play with let alone break any further.

As she still said nothing to him, Alastor looked to her nightstand. There, an assortment of litter and tissues laid. In the center of it all: a small framed photo of her and her family sat. She looked to be younger than the portrait in the lobby, but still old enough to be considered a teen.

It was an unremarkable photo in all regards. He’d seen far too many of these family portraits around the hotel and the palace when he visited Lucifer. It seemed odd how family oriented the Magnes were considering how broken the relationship between Charlie and her parents were.

But unlike the ones Alastor had seen before, Charlie looked different. His eyes lingered on the visible horns protruding from her skull, standing tall and proud and unabashedly her’s. In the few family portraits Alastor had seen, Charlie seemed to purposefully hide her horns away even while her mother’s were displayed proudly.

He’d seen her horns and teases of her form in photos, paintings and on live television before, but Charlie had never looked so proud to show off her demonic features than in the photo on her nightstand. She was never ashamed of her demonic form, but rarely had she ever used her features. From what Alastor could remember from his time with her, he realized that she never utilized her demonic form or any powers.

He wasn’t even sure she even had any powers. He reckoned that she had to considering that she was a product of Lucifer, the most powerful being in Hell.

Alastor’s eyes fell back to the skeletal being before him and mulled over a thought that popped into his mind.

He could fix her- improve her even. She was practically a blank slate now, could he really pass up the opportunity? They could discover what exactly she was capable of together. Imagining the possibilities with the princess of Hell was just too enticing to let go.

Granted it wasn’t what he originally intended nor was he one to pick up fixer uppers, but he couldn’t just let the daughter of Lucifer waste away. It wasn’t like he had another venture lined up anyway.

________________________________

He continued to visit her daily, bringing her homemade food, clean clothes, linens and anything else she could need to cheer her up. He would talk to her, try to liven her up and keep her up-to-date on the latest news. Though she initially answered with single worded answers, it was clear his efforts were working as their conversations got longer as her state improved

Little by little, she opened up to him more and more. And in a short amount of time, she seemed to be back to a semblance of normal. And although she physically looked better and spoke more, Charlie was still missing the soul and spark that she’d lost.

Though Alastor didn’t mind. It was just all a part of the process.

Now, after a few weeks of nurturing her, it was time to get the ball rolling.

“All I’m trying to tell you sweetheart, is that you have been holding yourself back. You have so much potential for so much more! Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what you can do?” Alastor sat on the edge of her bed, facing Charlie who had her legs drawn up to her chest.

Charlie held her knees tighter to her chest and frowned. “Not really...”

“What a shame! It could prove useful for your endeavors. Now that you know redemption is possible, you’ll need to attract more souls to your hotel!”

“I don’t know Al...”

He sat on the edge of her bed and reached over to place a hand on her cheek, drawing her attention to his softened gaze. “Trust me, my dear. I haven’t led you astray before haven’t I? You’ve already done all you could. Allow me to help this time.”

As much as she didn’t like the idea, she knew he was right. Now that she knew redemption was possible, she could help people get to Heaven. But did she have the energy or power to do that when everyone still doubted her? Nobody took her seriously and she doubted anybody would believe what she did at that point. Hesitant, but without many other options, Charlie nodded. “Okay, but I’m not making a deal with you.”

Alastor chuckled, smiling a bit brighter in response to the bit of spunk returning to her. “Not a problem sweetheart. I wouldn’t have expected it any other way.”

Another week passing meant another week gaining Charlie’s wholehearted trust.

Alastor had to admit, it was enjoyable watching her grow back into the person she was before. She even smiled on the rare occasion. But as pleasant he’d found that her company was, he needed to get her going.

Having known her father, Alastor knew that Lucifer had the ability to subjugate and pacify any demon at will. Any demon under his will would fall into a trance-like state and obey all orders, even if it meant permanent death for that demon. All he needed to do now was see if Charlie had inherited this ability from her father.

He brought it up to her, presented as an idea to bring in patients.

As expected, she seemed hesitant. “That doesn’t seem right Al.”

“Don’t you want to help your people? How else are they going to find salvation if they aren’t convinced?”

She paused, seemingly convinced yet careful. “They won’t...”

Alastor nodded, standing from her bed. “Exactly! And the longer you wait for them to come crawling to you, the more that will perish by the next cleanse! I know that you want to help your people, don’t you sweetheart?” He turned to her and extended a hand. “Now why don’t we try? It’s about time you’ve left your cave and let the world see your dazzling smile, so let’s kill two birds with one stone?”

Charlie looked between him and his hand several times while she deliberated her decision. If she did nothing, would things get any better? Alastor was so willing to help her in her time of need- even more so than Vaggie ever had.

What was wrong with trying?

She took his hand, earning her a wide grin and a strong tug from the man. With a yelp, she flew off her bed and into his waiting arms. In an unexpected turn of events, Alastor wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth filled her. When was the last time she’d gotten a hug from anyone? Months ago from Vaggie probably.

“A solid choice my dear! Might I say that I’m impressed with your resolve!” He bent away to find tears rolling down her cheeks. Bothered by their existence, he wiped them away with his index finger. “Why the tears, Charlie?”

“I... I just want to thank you for being here Alastor. I-I don’t want to th-think about where I’d be without you here...”

Alastor chuckled and gently placed his hand on top of her head. She was his now, there was no doubt about that anymore.

“Think nothing about it. I didn’t think I would ever find myself caring about another’s well being.” He said partially truthful.

Once she composed herself, Charlie left the hotel for the first time in nearly three months while holding Alastor’s hand for support. She’d almost forgotten what her home had looked like. The blood-red hue of the sky, the faint smell of rotting flesh; it was something she didn’t know she missed.

Still holding his hand tightly, Alastor led her out to the streets to get down to business. He’d waited far too long for this moment and he was all too eager to get started. “I believe your ability is innate, meaning if you just wanted it enough, anyone could be bent to your will,” he looked about the busy streets but quickly perked up. “Why not try it on that one there?” He said, pointing ahead of them.

When Charlie looked, there was a scraggly three-armed man sitting on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign that simply read: “help” in crude lettering. He was a hulking purple giant of a man, taking up most of the walkway on the street. Had he not been so massive, the passerbys would have probably scowled at him for being so invasive. The purple demon also appeared to have a permanent frown on his face that made him even less approachable.

“I believe the man needs help, he’s practically asking for it dear,”

Charlie grimaced, suddenly feeling an awful twist of wrongness in her gut.

Alastor quickly sensed her hesitation by her tighter grip on his hand. “Charlie darling, I know you can do it. You can help that man. If you can do it, he’ll never have to beg in the streets again! You wouldn’t deprive him of that chance now would you? You know he certainly wouldn’t survive the next cleanse being so exposed like this,”

Again, he was right. Alastor was always right, and Charlie knew that well.

But still, it just didn’t sit right.

Alastor bent toward her, getting close so that she could only focus on him. Charlie stared into his ruby-red eyes, confusion in her eyes. “I will be here with you all the way.”

She hesitated a bit longer, biting down on her lips and looking down to the ground.

‘Alastor’s always right.’ She reminded herself in her head.

“Okay.”

They approached and Alastor let go of Charlie’s hand to watch her with anticipation from behind her.

Charlie forced a friendly smile on her face and waved up to the seated man. “Uh hi!”

The beggar man didn’t seem amused. “You got money?”

“I have something even better!”

“Meth?”

“Nope! I-I uh, I have a hotel! That redeems souls so that they can go to Heaven!”

The purple demon huffed a laugh. “Oh I know this scam! You want me to go with you to this hotel of yours and you’ll take my organs and use me for meat,” he crossed his two arms and let his third hand give Charlie the bird. “Yeah no thanks, bitch. Get lost.”

Before she could walk away dejectedly, Alastor held her shoulders to keep her in place and whispered in her ear. “Demand it. It will only work if you demand him with confidence. Try it again.”

She took a deep breath. ‘He’s always right.’ She subconsciously reminded herself once more.

“Hey didn’t I say get lost? The fuck you still-“

“You will come with me and stay at the hotel. You will work toward redemption to Heaven and stay there.” She stated firmly and devoid of emotion.

The man closed his mouth, removing the scowl on his face. Not even a moment later, he stood and looked to Charlie expectantly. “Sure thing.” He said with barely any emotion behind his own answer.

Charlie’s eyes widened and she gasped, feeling her heart race. Quickly she turned to Alastor and shot him an unsure look. “Al... I... I think I did it...”

Alastor chuckled and approached, studying the man for a moment. When Alastor leaned in close to the dirtier demon’s face, the other man did not react with any hostility, just with an innocently confused look on his face. Satisfied with the results, he turned back to Charlie and nodded “Yes you did, dear. Now, let’s check him in, hm?”

________________________________

Everything ran smoothly from the first patient in the hotel. Charlie began subjugating the homeless population quickly to beat the cleanse deadline. Every day she got into a normal routine that made bounds in her development. She quickly became much more confident, and most importantly: more reliant on Alastor and his opinions.

Alastor stood beside her wherever she went like he was a part of her being. Though he could be described as her shadow, Charlie seemed to be slowly melting into his.

She began doing everything he suggested. From subjugating whoever he pointed out, to smiling almost all the time, she was improving to his standards rapidly and eagerly.

He was her new constant in life, her lifeline and her only friend.

________________________________

With only days remaining until the next cleanse, the streets of Pentagram City were cleared of a large portion of its homeless population. She’d redeemed such a large amount of people that could have been lost to the cleanse and she was proud of it.

“Darling, the angels are coming this way.”

Charlie gasped, sprinting up to the window next to Alastor. What she found was a team of four angels making their way toward the hotel with deadly purpose. “What? Why?”

“They probably know where a large mass of demons are.” Alastor said calmly with a shrug.

It was time to awaken another power within her. He didn’t have a hand in this arrangement, but he wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect motivation to get Charlie going and he was giddy to figure out what was next.

Watching the figures get closer and closer, Charlie’s heart began to race with frustration and panic. “They can’t do that! I’m helping people!”

“They don’t seen to care.”

She laced her fingers in her hair, quickly losing her cool. “What do we do? We can’t relocate everyone! There’s too many of them!”

“I suppose we’ll have to fight.”

Charlie whipped her head around and stared her companion down in disbelief. “Al, that goes against what I’m trying to do here!”

“Then everyone perishes.”

‘He’s right, Alastor is always right.’

“...Okay. Let’s go then.”

________________________________

“Kill it.”

“W-what?”

“Kill it, or else it will keep coming.”

“B-but...”

Alastor bent, still looming over her and the writhing angel she’d caught in her grasp. He took her chin to look him in the eye. “You must, or else everyone will be in danger.”

Charlie’s head began to spin, her heart racing and the adrenaline rushed through her. ‘Everyone will die. All my hard work...’ She needed to do it. She needed to for her people’s sake.

Alastor let her go, allowing her to decide. If she truly put her full trust in him, he knew she’d do it. It was only a matter of time.

But he didn’t have to wait too long.

Charlie’s grip on the angel’s throat tightened, earning a gurgle from the struggling being. It couldn’t muster the strength to thrash nor could it dig its fingers in to try to pry the hand around its throat off.

She watched it struggle- watched the life slowly leave it. It was suffering. It was fighting so hard to live. It was a sad sight, yet Charlie’s pity for it quickly left as Alastor whispered in her ear. “That’s it, darling. Remember, they hold no remorse slaughtering your people. They even smile as they do so. So why don’t you smile as you return the favor?” He paused before chuckling.

He craned his head around to look at her face to find a smile forming on her face. “There you are. And what a lovely smile, Charlie. Truly a vision.”

Smile? Was she really smiling? How could she smile as she was killing something? Why did it feel so good?

The sudden squelch as well as the splattering of warm blood on Charlie’s face instantly removed her grin. The angel stopped squirming, but slid downward from her bloodied hand. Without a head atop its shoulders, there was nothing left for Charlie to grip. With two audible thuds, she watched as the body of the angel slumped over with the head rolling a bit away from its body.

‘Incredible strength, but I’m not surprised.’ Alastor thought, impressed by her feat. It took a great amount of strength to decapitate a being by just squeezing its neck.

He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders from behind to assure her. “No matter how many you kill, it’s not your patient’s sin. You cannot go to Heaven anyway dear so you’d might as well take the burden and protect them, right?”

She looked down at the angel’s headless body on the ground. “To protect them?”

He turned her slightly and stood in front of her. He gently placed a hand on her head, keeping her grounded. “Yes. I’m proud of you, Charlie.” It wasn’t a lie, he felt immense pride in the progress she’d made.

‘Proud of me?’ She questioned mentally. She pried her eyes off of the sin she’d just committed to whip her gaze to Alastor. “Alastor...” She whispered, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Yes dear?”

She didn’t say anything and instead jumped to wrap her arms around him, catching him off-guard.

He felt her trembling followed by an unmistakable moistness touching his bare chest. “My dear, don’t cry.”

His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

‘And all you need is me.’

#it's more of a quick fic #this could easily be broken up into multiple chapters #charlastor #charlastorfic #radiobelle #radiobellefic

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dancingdimitri · 4 years ago

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Well, it’s officially been a year. On March 23, 2020, I unboxed the secondhand Switch we had obtained by some incredible stroke of luck, solely for the purpose of playing Fire Emblem Three Houses, and started my first ever playthrough--Blue Lions route, of course--which I affectionately dubbed “Dimitripocalypse.” I chose this name because immediately prior to actually playing the game, I was aware of several facts:

- I was somehow already in love with Dimitri. - The Blue Lions story was both 1) centered on Dimitri, and 2) tragic. - I do not handle tragedies well.

(spoilers following, obviously. And lots of introspection.)

I knew about Three Houses since its release, but waited until many months later to actually play it for a few reasons: we (“we” meaning myself and my twin, Aki) didn’t yet possess a Switch; getting our hands on a system, plus the game, was an investment of several hundred dollars; there were no Switch games other than Three Houses we had significant interest in playing at the time, and besides, we were already plenty occupied with Fire Emblem Fates and the multitude of older games keeping us entertained on our outdated handheld systems. Our original plan was to buy a Switch for our birthday in May of the year following the release of Three Houses. Once the news of an impending lockdown started to spread, though, it became apparent that if we were going to get a Switch any time in the foreseeable future, that time was now. Our in-person shopping was mostly fruitless--no Switch, but we got our copy of the game while we were out (we like our physical copies)--but by some miracle we managed to find a previously used system for sale online: in retrospect, probably one of the last ones to be sold for a very long time after that.

By restraining myself from actively seeking out fanmade content, I managed to avoid significant spoilers for Three Houses. Inevitably, though, as months passed after the game’s release, I absorbed tidbits of knowledge that happened to roll by on my social media feed. I probably learned about the general concept and organization of the game (for example, obviously, the fact that there were three houses; more specifically, that it was a tragic story, and there was a timeskip somewhere in the middle), and the names of a few characters, but my recollections of my initial phases of information osmosis are fuzzy at best by now. My earliest memory of having a cohesive thought about anything in the game was sometime around September of 2019, when I happened upon Dimitri’s post-timeskip portrait. Immediately upon setting eyes on it, my heart went: He’s the one.

I still haven’t figured out what my heart does or how it works in such tight coordination with my eyeballs, but I have this tendency to abruptly fixate on one character in a given series, thereby selecting my single, immutable favorite character for that series. Yet, even as I subconsciously judge these characters based purely on appearance, when you also factor in aspects like personality and backstory, which I inevitably learn later, I somehow manage to also have a very consistent and predictable “type.” This was exactly what happened with Dimitri. Granted, it took me until February 2020 to form a significant emotional attachment to him, to the point where I was thinking about him constantly, but I never doubted from the beginning that it was Dimitri who would be the source of my “brainrot.”

I always wonder how things might have been different if I didn’t know about Dimitri beforehand: would I still have picked the Blue Lions house, solely because blue is my favorite color? Would Dimitri still have drawn me in through his many characteristic charms? Or would I have picked a different route, a different favorite character? How many things would be the same as they are today? But then I remember one of my favorite passages from what has been my favorite manga since my adolescence: [There’s] no point in thinking about the things I could have done, because there’s no guarantee that any choice is the right one. Alas, the timeline that exists right now is the only one that I know for certain, so it’s the only one I can discuss at length.

Sometime in the months that passed between finding that portrait and the beginning of lockdown, my knowledge of Three Houses had grown more cohesive, as vague as it still was. I knew that Dimitri was a tragic character who, due to some sort of traumatic events earlier in the story, became significantly more emotionally troubled after the timeskip. Looking back, I think this ended up being just the right amount of knowledge to have about the game before I started playing, because at any given point I had the faintest idea of where the story might be going, but no clue whatsoever about how it got there, and, perhaps most importantly, I still did not know how it ended. Nevertheless, another notable reason I hesitated for so long to play Three Houses was because I knew I was faint of heart and not adept at coping emotionally with even fictional tragedy; knowing what I did about Dimitri, I assumed playing Three Houses would leave me in a significantly worse emotional state than I had before playing the game. (I already struggled with generalized anxiety, a stressful family life, and recurring nightmares.)

Fortunately, I was very wrong. Even so, with no way of knowing this at the time, I figured that a lockdown would be the perfect time to start my playthrough. I was temporarily furloughed from my day job for the foreseeable future and obviously had no plans to go anywhere or do anything, so if I was going to get emotionally wrecked and needed significant time to recover, I might as well do so while I was stuck at home anyway.

(Side note: we could have gotten a Switch Lite with much less hassle if we wanted to, but we opted against it because we wanted to utilize the large television we had in our living room at the time. This ended up being an excellent decision. Second side note: it took me a few days to figure out there was a button on the system itself for taking screenshots, but I’m too sentimental to delete my lower-quality phone pictures.)

On the first evening after dinner I played for only about 45 minutes, enough to select my house. I ended up restricting myself to playing only in the mornings after that, because I lost practically all of my sleep to speculating. I primarily remember wondering about the deeper aspects of Dimitri’s character--what kind of person was he, really? I wrote an unnecessarily detailed paragraph about all of my guesses, based solely on his dialogue up to that (very early) point in the game, synthesized with things I knew about myself. I supposed, with the reservation that these were just wild guesses, that he might be very much like me. Every last one of my guesses turned out correct.

I experienced the story roughly one chapter at a time in two- to three-hour sittings, to allow myself ample time for emotional processing. I figured I might need it, and again, I was right.

As they say, the rest is history. Writing out all of the impressions I recall from Dimitripocalypse would make this post more needlessly long than it already is, and you can gather most of those from my regular posts, anyway. For the sake of as much brevity as I can muster, I’ll skip to the most important conclusion: I’m so glad I played this game.

Again, things could have easily turned out much differently. I very nearly stopped playing the game entirely after Dimitri’s sudden outburst at Remire Village gave me a panic attack so awful that I struggled to manipulate the controllers because my hands were trembling so badly. (I would have quit then and there, but I didn’t realize what was happening until after the fact.) But, after having Aki look up the ending to the route to confirm that it was indeed happy (for Dimitri, anyway--an important distinction), I persisted, also keeping in mind another favorite quote: something about the importance of continuously making an effort to understanding someone you love, even though not understanding them is “the greatest fear.” In retrospect, with how Dimitri’s character arc continued to develop, putting in the effort to reach that understanding at that specific point in the game saved my butt and made the vast majority of what happened later much, MUCH less of an emotional slap in the face. And with how the story progressed, I needed as much free cognitive space for emotional processing as I could get. The post-timeskip reunion with Dimitri led to my first good, cathartic crying session that I could remember in probably seven years. If I remember correctly, think it lasted a total of an hour and a half.

Even with that in mind, or maybe because of it, Dimitri’s renewal halfway through the second part was the single most cathartic moment I can recall ever experiencing. With how hopelessly attached I already was to Dimitri even before knowing the grisly details of his upbringing, the development of his story felt quite literally like something chipping away at my soul. Dimitri’s second peripeteia, then, wherein he realizes his past mistakes and decides to change for the better, evoked the sensation of my soul gently being reassembled, each broken shard softly being set perfectly back into place. I’m still not entirely why a fictional story felt so much more therapeutic than any therapy I had ever gotten up until that point. Somehow, though, just by experiencing that moment, I no longer carried with me a background-noise level of emotional anguish that had, at some point, become my default state.

With all of that said, I’m not entirely sure how to start wrapping this up.

It’s been a year since I took my first fateful step into the world of Fire Emblem Three Houses. There was no way of knowing where the steps after that would take me, even if I did predict a few aspects of the story. I’m certainly happy I was wrong thinking that I would end the game in a worse place than I started. Now I’m standing here looking back, one year later, amazed at how all of these experiences culminated into the present I know today.

I was always entertained by how, when you select which house to lead at the very beginning of the game, Rhea responds with “Your heart has made its choice.” My reply is always: “Yes... yes, it certainly has.” Maybe in some alternate timeline, it is true that this path was a choice I consciously made for myself. But in my current reality, that is not the case. Somehow, my heart makes its own choices independent of the thoughts in my head, and this particular choice is just one river joining the flow of time that continues to sweep me along.

My recurring nightmares never stopped entirely, but they significantly declined in frequency and severity. Moreover, for once, I even recalled a few good dreams I had: those, for me, are rare. I can count on one hand the number of such dreams in which Dimitri unquestionably appeared. One in particular sticks out in my memory to this day. I think of it whenever I have to negotiate with my estranged mother and I resort to perhaps unnecessarily diplomatic, emotionally distant and yet affable language; when I converse with someone about how it is crucial to discern when to change what is unacceptable and when to simply accept it anyway, even if--especially if--when the thing in question is something about yourself; when I keep in mind that, as much as I’d like to care for others until all of their needs and wants are met, because it brings me joy to see them happy as much as it pains me to see them hurt, there are times when I have to care for myself first, or else I will have none of myself to give.

Oddly, or perhaps, just as it should be, this dream did start out more like a nightmare. I recall feeling very anxious. But the difference this time was that Dimitri was there. Though I seldom experience such vivid sensations in dreams that I still remember them after I wake up, this time, the physical contact our bodies made as we embraced felt real.

“Dimitri,” I murmured, though I didn’t know why, “I’m so scared.”

His response, in perfect tune with the sound of his voice in the game:

“It’s all right. I’m here. Even when I’m not by your side, I’ll always be with you.”

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem three houses #dimitri #disclaimer: using the phrase 'in love' loosely because i still identify as aro/ace #but i haven't found a different term that feels like a better fit to describe how something fills your mind #until you can't think about anything else even when you try #i'm told that's also called a hyperfixation but in this case i feel like that takes away from the emotional significance #because oh boy are there emotions involved #just not ones that are necessarily romantic

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 4 years ago

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Who is the Mole?

@dalekofchaos I’m not taking any chances, your Ask will be given the security it deserves, from the demons of Tumblr who have been eating my messages!

So, who is R’s agent? Well, let’s look at what we know. They’re apparently someone within the walls of Hogwarts, that this dark witch has regular contact with. It’s never established when the mole arrived, but MC seems to think that it was after Rakepick left, and that would make sense. Let’s narrow down the suspects.

It’s not Jacob. Make no mistake, he is shady and he always has been. But he comes and goes. They specifically talked about a mole being present at Hogwarts. Plus, why would the White-Robed wizard flee when Jacob showed up, if he was on their side? Jacob is clear.

It’s not Alanza. She simply arrived too late in the story. Why would R wait this long to have another agent planted at Hogwarts? One who could not slip in undetected, but would inevitably have attention drawn to herself by transferring? What’s more, Alanza declined to join the Circle and she admitted to knowing Rakepick. I know a lot of people think that it’s her, but if she’s a spy, she’s a pretty lousy one. Alanza is clear.

Of the younger characters, the only one who isn’t canon is Beatrice. With how much focus she’s gotten, it’s a possibility. But she’s almost always under the watchful eye of Penny, or hanging with Ismelda. The only time she wasn’t, she nearly drowned in the Black Lake. She can’t even go to Hogsmeade, no way she’s meeting up with R in secret. Not to mention, she would never be on board with having her mind probed if she was the mole. Beatrice is clear.

Regarding the rest of the Year 6 characters, Talbott and Chiara are both secretive and keep their distance from the group. But we already know why they do this, they have well-established backstories and character-based reasons for why they would. Beyond that, the mole should want to join the Circle. They should want access to that intel. Just like Alanza, Chiara didn’t even want to join at first. No, I’m gonna say Talbott and Chiara are clear.

I could go through every member of the Circle, but I’m going to streamline the process and say that I don’t believe it’s anyone who was introduced from Years 2-5. The way HPHM is written, the only characters who get major plot importance are the Year 1 characters,and the people who are “guest-starring” in the current year, who were introduced in that Year. I consider The Year characters to be possible suspects, but I’ve gone through why it won’t be them. Many people suspect Tulip, but when was the last time she was relevant? Or Barnaby, or Jae, or Badeea? Sorry, no way it’s anyone who guest starred in a past year. Let’s go through the Year One folk, because I believe it is one of them.

Penny has simply never had the relevance that Ben and Merula have had. She didn’t even have a connection the plot prior to Year 5, prior to Beatrice’s introduction. I’ve talked about this before, but assuming you chose not to bring her along on any adventures, she could, in theory, but cut from the first four years, without the story changing much. Which is not to say Penny isn’t important, just that I don’t think she’s the mole. Penny is (basically) clear.

Merula’s loyalty has always been questionable, even as a major of hers, I don’t deny this. I can believe that even now, she would work against MC. The only question then, is when did this start? Did Rakepick give her this job before the Portrait Vault? Was Merula in on that? It might explain why Rakepick told MC to look out for her. But we’re forgetting one key detail about this character. She’s a terrible liar. This has been well-established. Merula’s emotions get the better of her. She would have given herself away by now. If this theory is true, she would need to pull a serious long-con, and I just don’t believe she’s capable of doing that. Merula is clear.

Ben has always been suspicious. From Year 2 on, Rowan them-self suspected him. It’s abundantly clear that he’s keeping secrets. Who did he write that letter to, prior to the Portrait Vault? Why did he insist on coming? Does he remember the time that he was kidnapped, or not? Why did he panic upon seeing Rakepick for what we can only assume was the first time? He’s hiding something, definitely. However...Year 5 seemed to settle the question of “who’s side is he on?” by using Rowan to prove that R can and will Imperius people, and exonerating Ben from his time as the Red Cloak. What’s more...Rakepick aimed that curse at him. She tried to kill him outright, and she couldn’t have known that Rowan would rush in. She wouldn’t do that if he were the mole. Maybe Ben can be trusted, maybe not, but regarding this...Ben is clear.

But hold on, I said that I believed one of the Year 1 characters in the mole, didn’t I? And I do. I’ve talked about this before, but I sincerely believe that the Mole...is MC.

Now, I’m not saying that MC is pulling a long-con, that they’ve always been loyal to R, and that even the player didn’t know it. That would be one hell of a twist by itself, but people would probably hate it. No, I think that MC is the mole...without knowing it. I have on many occasions, expressed doubts about Moody. I know he’s canon, but like I said, R has proven that they can and will use the Imperius Curse. That would be a way to use Moody as a secret villain without breaking canon, and it’s not like we haven’t seen that done before. Seriously, the way he’s acting in this game, particularly his encouragement of MC’s revenge and blood-lust? This reminds me more of Barty Crouch Jr’s impersonation than anything else. We know from the Weird Sister TLSQ that the Cabal was planning to contact Moody and “see what he knows” about the Sunken Vault, and the Coral Key. (A quest that, curiously, has since been removed, and it seems like they’re not putting it back. I wonder why...) At the end of Year 5, not long after Rakepick abandoned her role as R’s agent at Hogwarts, Moody shows up and abducts MC. Swearing them to secrecy, almost always insisting that they not tell Jacob and their friends important information, or otherwise encouraging them not to. Think about it, what new information has Moody actually provided? Compared to the fountain of intel that MC has been providing him, for no real reason. MC told him about the Circle almost immediately. Now, Moody isn’t the dark witch, but suppose she was the one who Imperius’d him? If my theory about this is true, then MC has been passing information to R, without their friends knowing, for this entire year. That would make them a mole.

Of course, they have no idea. Which means that in this context, to call them a “mole” or a spy isn’t really accurate. It’s twisting the facts. But I firmly believe that’s the interpretation that we’re going with here. Which is a good lead-in to another phase of this theory that I have. Not only do I think R has been using MC as a mole, the way they’ve been using them as a weapon to open the Vaults this entire time...I also believe that R wanted MC to find out this bit of information. I believe that entire Infiltration was a trap, that R knew MC was there, and that it went exactly as they wanted it to. Setting aside my theory about Moody, I have to confess that the “advertisement” MC and Merula found at the Whomping Willow never made any sense to me, and felt like bait for a trap. Seriously, even if we ignore that the tip-off about The Whomping Willow being a secret meeting place was almost certainly referring to the Shrieking Shack, and not this...why would R do something like that? Leave a note like that out in the open, for any student or teacher to find? It’s not like dark witches and wizards are going to be prowling around Hogwarts that often. Wouldn’t it make way more sense to post that around say, Knockturn Alley? No, they wanted MC to find th at. Not to mention the tone of the note, “Dark wizards, come one, come all!” Please, if I’m a dark wizard, and I read that? My first thought is, “Well, this is clearly a sting. I’m not getting involved.” Not to mention, this wouldn’t be the first time MC tried to crash an R meeting based on written information that they supposedly left laying around. The Forbidden Forest was a trap, and Rowan paid the price. So why wouldn’t this be a trap? Sure, it seemed to go well...but I can’t help remembering the White-Robed Wizard’s line about how R would never let MC learn something that they didn’t want MC to know...

And that’s just it. They wanted MC to know that there was a mole. They wanted MC to tell the Circle that there was a mole. Moody instructed MC not to say anything about R wanting them to join and someday lead, but he didn’t tell them not to bring up the mole. Really, it isn’t so much that they wanted MC to know, it’s that they want the Circle to know. They want The Circle of Khanna to know there’s a mole. They want MC to find out about R’s plan for them, and they want MC to keep this plan from the Circle, so that when the time comes, R can drop this bomb. That MC is the mole, and always has been. MC can deny it of course, but what will they do when it comes out that they’ve been reporting to R (Through Moody) all this time? There’s a reason no one else is ever in those scenes - not even Jacob. There’s a reason Moody has been trying to put distance between MC and their friends. Imagine if The Circle finds out that MC knew R wanted to recruit them, and they said nothing? People have been speculating that MC losing a friend in an “unexpected way” might be referring to the mole, and how one of their friends is a traitor. But it could work in the opposite direction as well. If people find out that MC is a “traitor” I mean...how are Ben and Merula going to handle that news? Sure, some people might not immediately turn on MC, some people might believe them, or be uncertain...but R has been building up “evidence” of this for months, and Ben and Merula are both in a place of being so traumatized and unstable that they’d probably just buy it hook line and sinker. And they’re the co-leaders of the Circle. They might, at that point, kick MC out. Or at least call for a vote.

And what happens if MC is expelled from the Circle? The very organization they formed to honor Rowan? They wouldn’t be able to investigate the Vaults anymore, because they’d be working against two secret organizations, one within the walls of Hogwarts. The Circle of Khanna, presuming MC to be a spy for R, would never let them within fifty feet of their investigation - hell, they could be the opponent that MC has to face, from the Centaur’s prophecy. (Or it could be R’s leader.) The Circle, at least initially, wouldn’t take MC back or trust them. But the Cabal? Oh, you just know that they would open their arms to MC and welcome them to join, pointing out that they have nowhere else to go...not saying MC would agree to join them, but this could be R’s plan. This could be the big choice that MC has to make from the Centaur’s prophecy. Suppose Dumbledore was told by Circle members that MC is an R agent, and, oh I dunno...expels them as a result? We’ve all speculated than an expulsion arc is coming. If it is, that would be the perfect opportunity for R to try and get their claws into MC.

Thank you for sending me the Ask! This has been a lot of fun, and I’ve enjoyed getting all these suspicions out in the open.

#HPHM Theory #HPHM Spoilers #HPHM Cabal #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery #HPHM Analysis #HPHM Jacob's Sibling #Ben Copper #Merula Snyde #Alastor Moody #Patricia Rakepick #HPHM Jacob #Alanza Alves #HPHM R #The Circle of Khanna

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artcenterstories · 3 years ago

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Inside Job: Meet Interior Photographer Christopher Dibble

ArtCenter: What inspired your current creative project? Christopher Dibble (Photography and Imaging '05): My first book, Modern Americana was released on April 20. Written by interior designer Max Humphrey and co-written with Chase Reynolds Ewald, the book contains around 150 images that I photographed of spaces designed and styled by Max. I began photographing Max's work when we met in Portland shortly after each of us made the move from Los Angeles. Because we had worked together so often, and the majority of our work published editorially, we had discussed photographing a book project as a potential next step. About six months later, the conversation got serious and Max secured a book deal with Chase to be published by Gibbs Smith. Since I had already photographed all of his spaces, and we had a number of other projects we worked on together, we had a head start with half the book photographed. During the summer of 2020, we produced the other half. We worked for two months, producing about 75 images in spaces ranging from estates, antique shops, boutiques and backyards. It was a challenge producing so much work in such a short period of time and the pandemic didn't help. No assistants, no rentals. Just a camera, a tripod, a tiny light kit and lots of dedication.

AC: Where do you get inspiration? CD: I think we can find inspiration just about anywhere. It depends on how we look things. A lot of my inspiration comes from film, art and photography, but recently I’ve been digesting photographic inspiration in a way that I haven’t before. I've begun looking at images to see what I would do differently and think about ways that I could elevate a particular photograph. A bit of a challenge, or assignment I suppose. I think this is a way for me to shake things up a bit, and change the way I look things and get inspired. How could I make an image of a room better? How could I make a portrait more intriguing? With inspiring films, I’m often drawn to the light and color, but also the story. I love when my images can tell a story.

AC: Describe the moment in your childhood where you first identified as an artist or designer? CD: I’m not sure there was a particular moment in my childhood where I first identified as an artist, but I do recall my decision to dive deep into photography. I had been a fan of Stanley Kubrick’s for some time, and his work inspired me to learn more about cinematography. While exploring that at Pasadena City College, I read a quote from him that said, “To make a film entirely by yourself, which initially I did, you may not have to know very much about anything else, but you must know about photography.” This was what prompted me to begin formally studying photography, and eventually led me to ArtCenter.

AC: How were you exposed to great art and design as a child? Who were your favorites? CD: I’m fortunate to have come from a family of artists. My grandfather was a newspaper photographer, and my father was a photographer and artist, so there was art throughout my childhood. One piece that I remember growing up with on our wall at home was a photograph of a man in a trench coat, standing in front of a sculpture, opening his coat with a quote that said “Expose Yourself To Art.” Fittingly enough, the man “exposing” himself to art was the future mayor of Portland, where I currently reside. And, I've been exposing myself to art ever since.

AC: What is your current obsession? CD: I've always been obsessed with textiles, and currently, I’ve been weaving my own. I primarily weave hand towels and blankets on a floor loom, but also enjoy weaving knotted and woven rugs, as well as wall hangings.

AC: What’s the first site you look at when you open your computer in the morning? CD: I don’t have a particular website I look at everyday, but the first thing I do when I open my computer is dive right into emails.

AC: How would your closest friend describe you? CD: This one felt funny to answer on my own, so I paid… er… asked. "Loving, funny AF, passionate about everything and everyone in his life. Will always tell you the truth and take the time to break things down for you. A great teacher, supportive, motivates you to do better and be better. Very knowledgeable about everything, from art to crafters, and also useless stuff like 90 Day Fiancé. However, don’t rely on him to help wipe a baby worm that’s stuck to your leg while in the middle of a field in Chiang Mai."

AC: What books are on your bedside table? CD: PhotoWork: Forty Photographers on Process and Practice, and The World According To Mister Rogers.

AC: What’s the one tool you can’t do without? CD: Where there is a will, there is a way, but having to choose, I’d say my hands.

AC: Where is your happy place? CD: Home. Not a building or a specific place, but a feeling. A less esoteric answer would be Italy.

AC: What is your prized possession? CD: My education, formal and informal.

AC: What’s your best piece of advice for an ArtCenter student who’s interested in following your career path? CD: The short answer, from a photography-business perspective is, learn how to read, understand and write a contract. If you don’t know what something means, ask for clarification. Having that clarity will save you time and heartache.

The long answer is more complicated. My career path has gone from editorial celebrity portraiture, to fashion catalogues, and now interiors and architecture. It’s been a bit of a zigzag, but all land around things I have a passion for: people, fashion and design. This has allowed me to grow and apply the principals I’ve learned from one subject to the next.

Photograph what you’re passionate about. While this doesn’t always guarantee financial success, it will give you more understanding of the subject you’re photographing.

Show your work, and meet people. You have the skills, but the relationships are just as important. Find out who you should be showing your work to. Editors at magazines? Art buyers at ad agencies? Gallerists? When I graduated, I wanted to work with magazines, so I made it a point to meet, in person, with as many magazines I could. When I shifted to photographing interiors, I made an effort to authentically connect with interior designers and publications. Beyond the initial outreach and meeting, I continue to foster those relationships and connections by finding common interests and staying in touch. Through this, I’ve made real connections and friendships with people I now get to work with.

Ask questions and listen. You don’t have to take every piece of advice given, but be open to receiving advice and critique, and apply it as you see fit. Don’t blindly reject or accept it.

Also, share your knowledge.

#ArtCenter #artcentercollegeofdesign #photography #interiors #christopher dibble #modern americana #architecture #fashion #design

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girlandgeese · 4 years ago

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Artist ask thing!

I was tagged by @kourvo and I am a big baby who is afraid to tag even my mutuals so if you see this I WOULD like to read your responses and please DO tag me if you fill it out. :’-)

What is the character you’ve drawn the most (Can be original or fanart) Other people’s Lavellans by about a mile.

What colour do you often use? I like muted and muddy colors. Give me those soft tonal shifts!!

Any colour you are bad at using? Bright and poppy shades. It isn’t in my programming.

When drawing people, where do you start? Jawline, then nose, then eyes, then mouth.

What is a character only your eraser will love? I’ve accepted that I’ll never draw Solas and that this will be why I never climb to the top of the DA art fandom.

Which of your works took the longest time? Almost definitely this one for @teknon who put a lot of faith in me, haha. This is still one of the most ambitious concepts I’ve ever actually completed. 🥺🙏

What techniques do you use when you want to improve in drawing? Eugh... I really haven’t actively tried to improve in a long time. Any of my improvements have been through sheer repetition, like taking on two dozen portrait commissions inevitably makes me better at faces. A lot of times I will burn out, stop drawing for a few months, then be slightly better when I get back at it. It’s a mystery. 💦

What do you think of the art of the person who gave you this ask meme? Their art is so lovely and striking and distinctive!! Extremely strong and emotive portraits. Wonderful use of light and dark values. When I read in their response to this that they don’t often use reference, I was like, “...?? How is this possible?”

What art tools/media are you good with? All my digital work is Procreate + iPad. Whenever I’m traveling I’ll bring a sketchbook (Leuchtturm is the best) and some ink pens.

Art tools/media you are bad at? Pastels, watercolor, charcoal. Messy things.

What do you think about your own art? ... Honestly I’m not a fan, haha. Occasionally I’ll make something that I’m proud of, but the vast majority of the time I’m just frustrated. This probably means I need to make some changes to my approach. But. Y’know. There’s currently a very large gulf between where I am and where I would like to be.

Do you consult references for your drawings? Every time for every thing. You haven’t lived until you’ve got eight tabs open of searches for “old man stern”, “old man angry”, “old man frown”, “old man face downward angry”--

What do you like about your art? I like my line work. I like how I render different planes and edges on a face.

What habits do you have while drawing? Planning to do something quick and then accidentally overworking it.

Are you good at drawing faces facing right? I think so.

How frequently do you draw? Not at all, then a TON for a short period of time. This is maybe my worst habit.

What do you do when you have artist’s block? I wait six months to several years. I do “junk food” art like drawing an easy portrait to build my confidence a bit. Photo/master studies.

What must you have when you draw? I have to have some noise, and my workspace has to be free of clutter. 9/10 times I will make a hot drink to have beside me; 7/10 times I forget about it.

Do you have a lot of stray lines (messy lineart)? Nah. I’m pretty economical.

What is drawing to you? Something I’ve been doing for a long time. A place where I have put most of my skill points but not enough of my attention and dedication.

Your art goal from now on? Make things that are unrecognizably mine. Confront my insecurities. Draw for no audience whatsoever.

Artists you’ve had influence from? See next.

Artists you like? Akihiko Yoshida, John Singer Sargent, John William Waterhouse, Ivan Bilibin, Even Amundsen.

Which is easier to draw, humans or animals? Ha ha. Humans.

Show us an old drawing. This is my favorite one to peddle out.

What is the charm-point of your art? Nice faces that are pleasant to look at. Chiseled cheekbones and numerous elf ears.

What is the first thing you would draw if we’re talking about fantasy? Elves, unsurprisingly. If I were just doodlin’ it would be outfit and armor designs for various adventurer types.

Please draw your most beloved character: I have spent literally 100% of my artistic energy on donation drawings so here is a year-old Lavellan that I still like a lot, to represent Elves as whole.

When thinking of characters is it mostly female? male? or androgynous/no sex? I think it’s a mix, at this point? When I was younger I would only draw girls.

What did you draw yesterday? Donation drawings! Last one was a nice OC. :-)

What is the most fun part to draw? Eyes and brows. Hair is fun to draw but miserable to paint.

What part of other people’s drawings do you notice first? Line work, color theory. Mark-making.

Regarding backgrounds, what is your method of making it easier to draw? Simply do not draw a background.

What colour coordinations do you like? Zorn palette, baybee.

What character did you last draw? Attractive male-presenting OC with long white hair and a nice skin tone.

What part of drawing do you pay most attention to? Line work requires the most active attention. You cannot save a bad drawing with good painting. I have learned this. I may spend more time painting, but it doesn’t ask as much of me mentally.

How do you feel about drawing adult art? At any moment I am ready to sell out and be paid large amounts of money to draw NSFW content.

Do you like criticism from others? When I solicit it and when it’s from someone whose opinions I value. That sounds like “no”, but it’s more that many people don’t give good, actionable criticism. Luckily I am my own harshest critic. 🤡

How many people do you normally draw per artwork? 1/6 of one humanoid.

#ask gg #kind of #thinky thoughts #long post #thank you for tagging me!! this was really fun to think through

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #354

“swimming through the void, we hear the word / we lose ourselves, but we find it all”

The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? I never do. My hair is naturally pretty oily, and conditioner just adds oil to it. Do you prefer light or dark jeans? Dark. I never liked light-hued jeans. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I almost always just listen. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yes. Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? My first "real" boyfriend. I always do to varying degrees. How many cars are parked at your house right now? Just one. Do you have any Italian ancestry? No. Do you prefer water to be ice cold or at room temperature? The colder, the absolute better. I can barely stomach drinking water that isn't cold, like literally. Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak? No. Do you know anyone who has gone missing? If so, were they ever found? I don't think so, anyway. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? A certain hot sauce on the wings I used to get at Buffalo Wild Wings. It was close to the top of their little heat rating thing. It made me feel awful, and yet I enjoyed it still?? I think it was an adrenaline thing. I only get medium sauce now; I'm more interested in enjoying my food than feeling like I'm eating fire. Do you need to talk to someone? I'm ready for my therapy appointment honestly, but it's not 'til the start of June. Mom and I both don't want to go through the process of finding a new one, so I've chosen to just suck it up and wait. Is something confusing you at the moment? I'm always confused with myself and my feelings. When was the last time you had a real deep chat? Real deep, I'm sure that would've been during PHP. Who did you last see on webcam? My former group therapist. I miss him a lot and really wish he could treat me outside of the program, but he doesn't do that. :/ What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)? Doris, Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, Jane Marie, Buster, Beesly, Winter, and I believe only one of the fish is named: Raisha. Have you ever taken a picture while laying in the grass? No. Who’s your favorite Disney character? Dory, probably. Have you ever deliberately tried to get someone drunk? What the fuck, no. When was the last time you used a pay phone and who were you calling? I've never used one. Do you like being kissed on the neck? Whoa now buddy, we better be kind of serious by then for you to do that because it doesn't end "well" lmao. Have you ever had sex with someone you weren’t dating (but had feelings for) in the hopes that they would ask you out later? I almost deleted this question because I didn't want to answer it, but I try to leave more unique ones in, so... whatever. I haven't. But I would for "somebody." What’s the most you would be willing to spend on a good bra? Ugh, my relationship with bras is a hellish one because NONE FUCKING FIT ME CORRECTLY. Mom's tried so, so many places, so many different stores online and in-person, and even if the bra fits in the front, it won't go around my back comfortably. I guess my body is shaped weird, I don't fucking know, because I have literally ZERO bras that don't aggravate me. At some point, I'm going to some woman Mom knows who can size me properly and therefore buy some that don't piss me off. All that to say I'd actually pay more than the usual, but not a ridiculous price. Do you have any of your teachers’ personal cell phone numbers saved in your contacts list? My old Physical Science teacher, who is actually now a very close family friend and our landlord, is in my phone. Do you ever stalk peoples’ personal blogs, even if you don’t know them very well? No. What’s one thing about today’s generation that you just can’t stand? How ungrateful they can be. Be honest: how do you feel about abortion? I am pro-choice. Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to? There's a lot of people, actually. Old friends I miss. What is your favorite piece of art you own? It... sounds cocky, but it's probably the drawing I did in high school of Pyramid Head and the Halo of the Sun intertwined. I worked my fucking ass off and I'm extremely proud of it. What’s the one thing you apologized for this month? Hm. Probably just something minor, like bumping into Mom or something when passing her. My favorite color is ______? Pink, specifically pastel pink. I wish I had _____? A job. What did you buy today? Nothing. What has challenged your morals? Life, my dude. Live and learn. What made you pick up the last book you started reading? It's the sequel to the last book I read. What about your life concerns you the most? Concerns me, my physical health, especially just how weak my legs are. I'm terrified of them continuing to deteriorate. What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? I cannot fucking stand the misuse of the word "retarded." Like just keep your damn mouth sewn shut if you have the audacity to say things like "hurr hurr this driver is retarded." ANY mental illness/condition is NOT to be mocked. Onto the next question, I'd say I'm more towards difficult to offend. It really depends on the topic. What was the last series you finished watching? Do you have any plans to begin another? I re-watched Fullmetal Alchemist w/ Sara. We're working on Avatar: The Last Airbender too, but I won't resume watching it again until we can do it together. What is one way in which you are different from a year ago? What is one way in which you are still the same? Well, I weigh a lot more. .-. I gained back almost all the weight I shed since quarantine started, and I'm forever fucking furious about it. I'm the same in most other ways. If you could learn about anything without the stress of grades or cost, what kind of classes would you take? Uhhhhh meerkat behavior? Idk. Name a song you’ve listened to today? I've got Halocene, Lauren Babic, and Violet Orlandi's cover of "Aerials" by System of a Down on loop right now. It's fucking gorgeous and so mesmerizing. When you were younger, did you have a swing set or a playhouse in your backyard? We had a small playhouse with swings and a slide. Is your mall nice? GOD no. You better accept the possibility of getting shot before you walk in there. There's nothing that cool at all there. Do you have a Sonic near you? If so, what’s your favorite drink from there? Yeah. I love the strawberry slushy, and the Reese's Blast thing if KILLER. Will you be voting in the presidential elections next time around? Yes. How do you feel about chocolate-covered strawberries? GOOD. STUFF. Did you ever stop having feelings for someone and then started having those feelings again for them? I think so. Do you hate the last guy you had a thing with? No, he's my closest guy friend. To whom did you last give the finger? Probably some idiot that ran a red light. I'm sure it happened in the car, whenever it happened What was the last musical instrument played in your presence? I've got no clue. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? No, I hate the texture difference. And just sprinkles in general. Honestly, have you ever crashed a party before? No. Do you know how to do the moon walk? No. Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Yeah, but I beg to differ. Onion rings or french fries? French fries. I'm not a big fan of the other. Has anybody ever described you as a heart breaker? Nope. Has anybody ever told you that you talk too fast? When I'm excited, yes, it happens sometimes. Who is the best cook that you know? Uhhhhh idk. Which meal throughout the day do you skip the most? I don't really skip meals. What’s the largest amount that you can juggle at one time? I can’t juggle at all. What was your favorite thing to go on at the playground as a kid? Swings. I'd dash to those at recess to try to actually get one. Do you know how much you weighed at birth? How much? All I know is six pounds, no clue on the ounces. Which aspect of your daily routine takes the most time? What do you do? Sitting my ass at the computer, really... I don't exactly do much. Do you enjoy buying gifts for others, or could you do without this? It feels sucky of me considering whenever I do get someone a gift, it's because Mom is letting me use her money with me being without an income, BUT I still do LOVE the process of thinking of something meaningful for those important to me and hopefully seeing them love whatever I got them. I cannot wait until I actually can do that regularly. What is one thing you are expected to do, if anything? Take care of my pets. How do you tend to view driving? Monotonous or entertaining? I hate driving because you're in a speeding box of death, man. I do really want to start working towards my license though; I've long since reached the "enough is enough" point. But first I need new glasses so I can actually see five feet in front of me. Do you enjoy talking about music with others? Yeah! Is acting something you enjoy? No. I'm too awkward about it. When do you feel most accomplished? When I finish a big art pierce. Do you think Manwich is amazing or completely gross? I like 'em. Just messy, which I'm not a fan of. How many best friends do you have? One. Are you a smoker, drinker, pothead or none of the above? None of the above. If you have your ears pierced, when did you get them pierced? I don't remember exactly, but I was a kid. Do you own any exercise machines? No. I wish. On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings? Nah, but I used to do that. Have you ever drawn or painted a self-portrait? Painted, but only because it was a school assignment. Who was your last voicemail from? I don't get voicemails because mine isn't even set up. Have you ever been falsely accused of something serious? No. Did you ever set up a lemonade stand when you were a kid? No. When was the last time you spoke to someone in a different language? Not since I was taking a test in high school for my German course. My teacher was a Germany native, so she was a total pro and fun to learn from. Have you ever received an anonymous gift? No. Have you ever camped out somewhere for an event the next day? No. That's always sounded miserable to me. When were you the saddest in your life? 2016 was fucking miserable. Do you know anyone, personally, who is in an abusive relationship? Are you? I don't know if it's abusive, but it's toxic and dysfunctional as HELL. I don't know WHY she keeps going back to him, I feel awful for the woman. I'm definitely not, 'cuz I wouldn't tolerate that shit for half a second. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? They've both moved out by now. Have you ever gotten searched by the cops? Yes, as a safety protocol with mental illness stuff. Do you like fried rice? Yes. What was the last thing you drank? Would you believe me if I told you I have water right now?

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''aerials'' by system of a down

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