#My boy is going through it

[buddhamethods]

Bridgerton Season 3 Part 2 Trailer

[hypnautic-cereal]

SPOILERS FOR THE NEW WELCOME HOME UPDATE‼️

Sooooo, guess who’s favorite character is going through it rn and definitely knows more about Home and the neighborhood than he lets on?

Anyways, when that whole “Eddie is finally happy” sequence went on, for whatever reason it reminded me of Get Out by Jordan Peele, aaaand I drew this

[riseriot]

⚠️WARNING⚠️

!SELF DEPRECIATING THOUGHTS, SU!C!D@L IDEATION, BRUISES, IMPLIED SH!

He went sparring with the furniture in his room. :)

(Without Words)

(Without Shadow and Background)

[aqueousammonia-art]

almost forgot to post this I was so swamped at school yesterday 😭

my favourite one was the millywood one because I didn’t have to move anything

also I got kinda lazy with vash sorry

Sorry I kinda slacked on some of these ##’&*#”# I couldn’t figure out a good enough expression I wanted for specific ships TT three cheers for meryl though yeah I’d do anything for her

enjoy

[adhd7seelie]

You gotta break Will Solace to seem him shine #glowstickcore

[fuzzykazeki87]

So, this was found in Serge's coat? Where and how did he get this photo of Gilbert????

[bluecatwriter]

"I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes. The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere."

~Jonathan Harker's journal, May 31

[Image description in Alt.]

[pain-is-too-tired]

First time writing full hurt/no comfort and it's a Chris one...

I'm so sorry Chris ddgsh

He was just mocking Chris, really. Chris never actually has found his way to the center of the labyrinth. He sure he's gotten close,probably really close, but he's always collapsed before he truly had made it to the center. Chris still kept trying everyday though; because, honestly, what else was he supposed to do?

[dent-de-leon]

also Wildmother please let orym have a good day thank you—

[two-braincells-in-total]

Kai: I'm playing a game. It's called "taking a shot every time I feel depressed"

Emma: This game exists and it's called alcoholism

Kai: *chugging wine*

Credits to @shatterme-me who did it for Juliette and Kenji. I really hope you don't mind me using your quotes for these characters as well. I love your blog and most of your quotes can apply to these characters too, but if you have a problem with it, I'll delete them all!

[clickerflight]

Fallen: Part 5 - The Box and the Jar

Booiiiiiii, this one was fun to write. Shout out to Ivan who is living his worst life.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list

Masterlist

Part 4

Content: Weapon whumpee in training, isolation, sleep deprivation, non-sexual nudity hinted at, blood infusions, shock collar, sensory deprivation, sound whump, dehumanization, reprogramming

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

Ivan stared at the empty wall opposite him. It might as well have been a gnat, or a piece of lint under a table for all he paid attention to it. 

His fingers were so cold, the blood having a harder and harder time reaching them by the hour. He didn’t wiggle against the wall he was sitting against, knowing all he would get for his trouble was his goosebump ridden flesh meeting with cold stone where he hadn’t warmed it up. 

His eyes burned, but he tried to keep them open, taking a deep breath to try and increase his heartbeat. He tried to focus on the cold numbness creeping down his hands, the pain in his empty stomach, the pain in his veins that still coursed through him even though it had to have been days since the last infusion of that blood substance. 

He flexed his hands in the metal cuffs bolted directly into the wall sending pins and needles through all his fingers. He welcomed the feeling. Anything to keep from falling asleep. 

He dared to blink and was somewhat relieved to find his eyelids opened again when he called to them. He took another deep breath, sighing it out and shivering as the air came back out of his nose fast enough to spin cold air past his exposed chest. A chest where you could easily count his ribs and see where every single one of his blood vessels were, spreading from his heart. The veins in his arm where he got his transfusions every time were just as clear as well. 

Ivan didn’t notice his eyes closing. It wasn’t like he was using them to see anyway. 

He didn’t notice himself slipping, didn’t notice the pain and the cold slipping away. Sleep reached for him, offering soft arms for him to rest in. 

And then the pain seared through his body and he woke with a hoarse scream, twitching and convulsing until the collar around his neck had released its full charge into him. 

He hung his head, the collar digging into his jaw as he gasped for air, new goosebumps forming on the ones he already had as his back met cold stone behind him and the sweat induced by the adrenaline immediately started to cool, only barely fought back by the speed at which his heart was beating. 

He leaned back against the wall, staring blankly at his bruise mottled legs, ignoring the tremors that picked up as his shivering reached a fever pitch. 

Ivan didn’t know how long he’d been in this freezing room, his vein conversely on fire while he wasn’t allowed to sleep. He didn’t know what it was for. He didn’t know what that stupid scientist wanted from him. 

And he was beginning to not care. 

He had sworn up and down for the first portion of his stay down here, cursing everything and everyone and coming up with insults so creative they would have been pillars of literature for ages if they had been written down. 

That was, until the exhaustion really hit. Then all Ivan could do was glower at the door, as if someone could see him through the solid metal. That period lasted for a long time, but not forever. 

Then came the crying. Ivan hated crying, especially now. When the tears dried it left his eyes even more heavy and itchy, his headache even worse than before, but he couldn’t help it. Everytime he was shocked, everytime his body calmed down from thinking he was being killed in his sleep, there was nothing he could do but cry, trying to loosen the fear that was still wrapping itself tighter in his chest. 

After a while, he was too exhausted to cry, staring at the plain walls, tracking the way each shiver made his muscles twitch, and wait for the next inevitable moment where he would fall asleep and wake up in pain. 

His eyes were so heavy. He hurt so much everywhere. But he wouldn’t give in. There was a small seed of hope in his mind that the scientists would do this for so long that he would be on the verge of insanity and then they would be forced to treat him well for at least a couple of days. He didn’t care if he was strapped down into the bed again if he could be warm. If he could sleep. If he wasn’t covered in his own filth. 

And in those few days he could build himself back up again mentally and he would be fine. He would be alright and he could handle whatever they threw at him next. He wasn’t going to break. He wasn’t going to be their weapon. Eventually, whatever they were doing to him would make him strong enough to escape and he’d make it out of here with a few of their heads, a superpower, and a dark backstory to tell in bars to guys he wanted to scare. 

He just needed a couple of days. That was a-

Ivan screamed as the collar went off, sending lighting through his body that seemed to aggravate whatever was causing so much burning inside of him. 

He gasped for air, trying to understand. 

“Nno,” he rasped, his throat hurting with the word, but he needed to get it out. “No.. I din’t sleep. I din’t-” The collar went off again, and Ivan released a guttural scream, pain besides lighting tearing through his throat. 

There were tears on his cheeks, but he didn’t care, his breath hitching with fear and anticipation as he waited for the next one. The next one that would come out of nowhere for no good reason. 

It didn’t come. 

Well. It didn’t come until he fell asleep again. 

……………………………..

Ivan only got one day to recover, and he spent all of it asleep, pumped full of nutrients and water as the scientists milled about, deep red liquid steadily trickling down the line and into his arm, his skin reddening as a new burning lit into his flesh. 

………………………………

Ivan woke up, heart racing and veins burning. He struggled, an overwhelming sense of dread taking him, but he found himself unable to feel anything as he did. He opened his eyes, struggling and was startled by the greenish glow that lit the room around him. 

No, not a room. A huge test tube. He was suspended in a thick liquid, a mask over his face and his arms restrained to the sides by bindings made out of materials that were see-through and nearly impossible to feel. 

He saw the scientists outside the tube as a mechanical arm with a needle disappeared completely above him, taking a needle with it. 

Dr. LeAnn stood there, smiling to herself and giving instructions that Ivan couldn’t hear. Two mechanical arms came down, and despite his struggling, one grabbed him by the throat to hold him still while the other locked a visor around his head. The arms left again and Ivan tried to shake it off, but the visor wouldn’t come off, especially not with the way the liquid around him was starting to set and gel, making it hard to move at all. 

He looked out through the visor at the room, saw Dr. LeAnn nod, and then his visor blacked out, obscuring his vision completely. 

Ivan froze, staring wide eyed at the complete nothingness. He just wished he knew what to expect. He wished he knew what was happening. 

A soft sound broke through the quiet as the gel solidified fully around him, letting him wiggle and breath, but not much else. 

He strained to hear the sound coming from the part of the visor that covered his ears and flinched as a loud sound of static took its place instead. He squirmed as the volume rose, his ears beginning to ache with it and hurt with the pulses of sound that started next. 

Just as the loud chatter, the radio noises, the sounds of voices that were just too muffled to hear, the static, and the loud chirps began to make Ivan want to beg for it to stop, it changed, slowly quieting down until a voice that had been buried behind everything else came forward. 

“Hello, Project 5901.”

Ivan growled into his mask, and even if he couldn’t hear it, he knew that the sound came out wrong with the way his voice box shuddered. 

“Did you enjoy your time in the box?”

Ivan made no reply, but Dr. LeAnn didn’t seem to mind, her voice continuing to needle his brain. 

“Be aware, if you ever disobey me to the point of needing discipline, you will spend three days in the box. If correction is all you need, you will either take other punishments, or spend time here, in the jar. This depends on the severity of the correction being taken. You might even enjoy it here.”

Ivan swore, ignoring the pain that it caused. 

“Hmm,” Dr. LeAnn said, amused. “Well, back to your regularly scheduled program.”

Ivan winced and swore louder as the horrible layering of terrible noises came back, this time including loud cracks of gunfire and what sounded like people scratching nails down chalkboards. 

He was suspended in the jar with nothing to focus on but the sound in the blackness, shuddering and flinching at unexpected noises. His exhaustion came back, and with it the burning in his veins ramped up. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t block out the sounds. They were so unpredictable and changed enough that anytime he started to even slightly get used to it he would be sent violently back to square one again. 

He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes so he could pretend the darkness was his own choosing. He’d just have to endure. He’d be fine. It would be terrible, but he could endure. It was just torture. He’d make it out of here, no matter the consequences. He’d go eat terrible chocolate pickles with Kolt and everything would be fine. He’d be powerful enough that neither him nor Kolt would ever be kidnapped again. They could find a different city and live there for the rest of their lives and lay low. 

A man’s sobbing broke through the deafening sounds, and Ivan cried out, trying to escape the gel when he recognized the tone. 

The other voices faded back and the sobbing rose to the front. 

“No, please, please, please. I’ll be good. Please. Don’t put me in the box, p-please.”

“Good weapons don’t beg when they know they need to be disciplined.”

The man wailed and Ivan sobbed along with him as Kolt begged for mercy, soon drowned out by condescending laughter, cat calling, and the sound of a jackhammer, the last Ivan hearing of Kolt being a drawn out scream that faded like he was falling. 

Ivan sobbed outright now, dizzy as he started to breathe harder and faster into the small mask. Kolt had been through all of this. All of this! And more! He’d been tested on to make that blood substance and then thrown in a cage to be beaten every day. He’d been damaged beyond reasoning, beyond repair and there had been no one there for them. Ivan hadn’t found him. Ivan at least had the knowledge that when he got out of here he and Kolt would be able to share this and work it out together. There was a sick sort of comfort in knowing someone had gone through all this before. 

Kolt had none of that. All he had was a friend who had dragged his feet about making sure that Kolt was really dead for certain who got there too late. A friend that would take his place. 

And Kolt wasn’t even safe. Deal or no deal, Dr. LeAnn could have Kolt back here at any point. 

Ivan trembled as the sounds of screams pierced his eardrums, dogs barking and the sounds of tearing flesh ricocheting off of the inside of his scrambled mind. 

The sounds softened again and a robotic voice began speaking. 

‘You are project 5901, Alpha-2. You have no other name. You have no agency. You are a weapon. You are project 5901, Alpha-2. You have no other name. You have no agency. You are a weapon.’

The message repeated over and over again, occasionally changing tone, inflection, or accent, but the same thing over and over again until Ivan fell asleep, cradled by the gel with the nightmarish lullaby of his future ringing in his ears. 

Part 6

Fallen taglist: @looptheloup @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

[consularmain]

I feel bad I haven't updated uby in a while so here's a sneak peek at the chapter I'm currently writing.

Arcann couldn’t breathe.  Fumbling with the mechanism locking his mask to his face, Arcann labored for breath, every second with the mask on making his chest tighten and his hand tremble violently. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, each throb sending pain throughout his skull.  Finally, he wrenched the damned thing off with a gasp and threw it away from him. The half mask skidded across the shuttle, disappearing into a darkened corner.  The cold air stung his lungs and his newly exposed skin but he still desperately panted for air as he fell to his knees. His entire body suddenly weakened and he fell forward, unable to catch himself before he hit the floor face-first. He didn’t have the strength to lift himself back up.  Arcann laid there, focused only on his breathing, but it wasn’t long before he started to become aware of something new within him.  His connection to the Force was not what it was. Not diminished, but… changed.

[nocasdatsgay]

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow

Chapter 2: Heir and High Lord

This can be read as a standalone

Word Count: 2938

CW: Blood mentions, Emotional Distress

Chapter Summary: Beron was dead. Beron was dead, and Eris… Eris was not High Lord.

Also read it on ao3 Here

Master Post and Full Fic Summary Here.

Part 2 Here

**Typos are corrected**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris felt like all the air around him had left with the way he was gasping but not getting enough to properly breathe.

Beron was dead.

Beron was dead and Eris… Eris wasn’t high lord.

He waited for the power to come to him, so sure it would rush into him the second Beron drew his last breath.

But it didn’t.

It chose Piran. The second oldest, who stood beside him and looked just as shocked as Eris. The room was silent. Even after the surge of power in Piran, neither of them moved. It felt like decades passed when Eris felt hands on him, guiding him out the blood spattered room and down a hall. He turned to see his mother pulling him along. She didn’t look at him. When they entered a study and shut the door, Eris nearly collapsed.

“I don’t understand,” he started but couldn’t finish.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to rage. He was the eldest; he spent his whole life enduring Beron in hopes of killing the bastard and taking his place. To make Autumn better. He felt warm hands cup his face and he gazed back into his mother’s eyes.

She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Breathe my love,” she said.

“I can’t,” he all but choked on his grief. “It chose Piran. Piran. How- it was supposed to be me!”

A spark of rage came through and his fists caught fire. He quickly shook them out.

“Eris,” she didn’t let him go. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“No!” He pulled away stomping to the other end of the room. “I’m the eldest! It should have chosen me!”

His mother looked at him with what he knew was pity. “Eris. Please sit. I need you to sit down.”

“How can I sit? I have to do something. What does it say about me that I didn’t become High Lord?”

His whole identity was wrapped in being the heir to Autumn. He was raised to rule the court. He spent his life lying and cheating his way into taking out Beron. Without it, he was nothing.

Despite his protests, his mother walked up to him and without a word guided him to the couch. She forced him to sit. She sighed loudly and he looked up at her.

“I was worried this would happen,” she said softly, looking down at the floor. “I was- I hoped my bloodline and Beron naming you his heir would be enough but-“

“But what,” he said more harshly than he meant.

He stood again, restless energy humming through him. His mother grabbed his face again, cradling it in her hands as she looked lovingly at him.

“Eris,” There were tears in her eyes. “The magic skipped you because you’re not Beron’s son.”

“That’s not possible,” he snapped back immediately, pulling away again while a chill ran down his spine. “I look just like- like father.” He spat the last word with venom. Even dead he wouldn’t give that male any niceties.

“You look like me.” His mother’s voice cracked as one of those tears escaped and rolled down her cheek, “and you have Helion’s eyes, Eris.”

“That isn’t possible!” He yelled, fire once again engulfing his hands for a moment. “I was born after you married. Your affair started after the war, you told me-“

“The affair, Eris.” His mother’s own autumn powers ran along her fingers. Probably ready to fight him if he didn’t settle. “I knew Helion before I was married.”

Eris could only stare at her. “How? Father would have, he would have killed you.”

Her flames vanished and she stood straight, her face hardened. “You were born nine months after the wedding. I went horseback riding when I felt the labor start as a cover. The healer told Beron that’s why you came early and he believed it.”

Eris stumbled back, falling onto the couch again behind him when his knees gave out. He wasn’t the heir of Autumn. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“I don’t have any of those powers.” He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “I would have- I would have shown them by now.”

If he was truly an heir of Day he wouldn’t have been taken by that fucking crown. Surely he would have been able to break free from it. But I did, he remembered, I was coherent enough to hide the Made blade and feed that wretch incorrect information. The whole time growing up he called Lucien a bastard but the truth was they both were.

He looked at his mother and he knew he sounded defeated when he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was selfish.” She said, more tears falling down her cheeks. “I was scared and alone. You were my baby. I- I didn’t want Beron to find out and kill you. By the time you were old enough there was a war and I was separated from you. After… I don’t have an excuse.”

“Does he know?” Eris was crying. He hadn’t cried since he was a child but he couldn’t stop the tears. He didn’t stop his voice from raising as he repeated “Does he know!”

“No.”

Helion didn’t know. Which meant Eris couldn’t go to him. He felt his throat tighten. He wasn’t safe here. He definitely was to be a laughing stock when the morning came and everyone started finding out he wasn’t high lord. He wished humiliation could kill, then at least he would be dead.

There was a knock and he heard the door open. He looked automatically, not bothering to wipe away drying tears or hide his distress. Piran had walked in looking white as a ghost. His copper brown hair was disheveled, like he’d been running his fingers through it constantly since they’d left the room. It was almost nauseating the power coming off him in waves. He shut the door and his gaze met Eris’s.

“We can fix this,” Piran whispered. “I don’t- I don’t want to be High Lord.”

“How?” Eris snapped. “Even if I killed you, which I won’t, the power wouldn’t come to me.”

“Maybe there’s a spell,” Piran went and stood beside their mother. He looked between the two. “A transfer of power. Maybe the priestesses-“

Their mother reached over and cupped Piran’s cheek with her hand. Eris could see him shaking as she looked at him with a soft smile.

“The magic chose you. It’s alright, my love.”

“But mother,” his voice cracked much like Eris’s did earlier. “I can’t. I wasn’t trained for this. I’m not,” he stopped and clenched his jaw.

Eris wanted to vomit. None of this was going according to plan. The only thing that went smoothly was killing Beron. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees to cover his eyes with his hand.

He spoke without looking up, “we just have to accept it.”

“You can’t say that,” Piran hissed. “I will concede my status.”

Eris dropped his hand and glared up at his brother. “I can’t be high lord, you idiot. I’m not Beron’s son.”

Piran’s eyes widened. “What?” He looked to their mother. “How, you didn’t- Eris is the eldest, you weren’t-“

“I knew Helion before I married your father.” She said, not an ounce of regret in her tone.

“How could you do that?” Piran stepped back, putting distance between them. “Mother, how could you? Lucien and Eris? Was I, did you even want me?”

“I am your mother, Piran.” Eris had never heard his mother speak so harshly. “Of course I wanted you. I love you no more than I love any of my other children. You both were blessings from the cauldron. All seven of you were.” Eris watched his mother pull Piran to her and hold him in a way she hadn’t been able to hold any of them for a long time. “Do not ever doubt my love for you.”

Eris failed to tamper down the jealousy welling in his chest. “That’s fantastic to hear mother, but that doesn’t solve our problem.”

“I told you,” Piran said but didn’t remove himself from the hug. “I’ll transfer the power.”

“That isn’t possible and you know it.” He shot up from the couch, the heat in his body rising with his anger again. He turned from them both, staring at the bookshelf to think. “I’ll have to leave; fake my death. Live the rest of my days disguised a common fae in the woods.”

He could practically feel Piran roll his eyes. “Stop being dramatic.”

Eris felt his mother grab his arm. “I’ll send word to Helion. We can set up a meeting-“

“Helion hates me.” Eris wanted to snatch his arm away but didn’t when he glanced and saw the hurt in his mother’s eyes. “Do you think centuries of hate will disappear just because we tell him I’m his bastard son?”

Piran didn’t let their mother answer. “Mother, go call for a priestess. We will wait here.”

There was no room for protest. Their mother nodded and left quickly. There was heavy silence between them but Eris refused to break it first.

“So,” Piran asked after a moment. “How does it feel to know you aren’t the son of a monster?”

“Don’t start,” Eris scowled. “I was raised by him all the same as you.”

“But mother wanted you. You and Lucien both. I always knew you were the favorites and now I know why.”

“Favorite? I’m the favorite?” Eris scoffed. “You and the others were coddled by her long after you became of age. At least mother tended to your punishment wounds instead of leaving you to deal with them yourself.”

Piran went quiet and Eris felt he won. Until Piran replied, “Father wouldn’t let her.” Eris stared at his brother. “He said you were the heir; you needed to learn how to deal with your own problems. He told all of us if we were caught helping it would be a week in the dungeons.”

“I didn’t know that.”

He should have. But that was probably the point of it, to make Eris feel like he couldn’t trust anyone. Not even his own mother.

Eris changed the subject. “You should stay High Lord.”

“No,” Piran shook his head. “I don’t know the first thing about ruling. It’s you who have the loyalties. You have led the army. And you know damn well Asher and Cillian won’t listen to me. I bet those two don’t even know our father is dead.”

“Probably not,” the corner of his mouth ticked up. “I bet they’re both drunk and passed out in a corridor again.”

“Leave us to do the dirty work as usual.” His remark had Eris’s eyes skimming both their clothes. They were covered in now dried blood. Piran cleared his throat. “The Night Court made Crusebreaker High Lady. If they can do that, surely we can transfer the power.”

Eris laughed. “You’re really going to take notes from the Night Court? Feyre maybe High Lady but Rhysand pulls all the strings. She’s only High lady in title; he lets her think she has power.”

Piran side eyed his brother. “You’re just bitter that their Witch didn’t accept your proposition.”

“If you saw how they used her, you would have offered her a way out as well.”

They both were silent after that. They both ended up on the couch, waiting. Embarrassment settled back in but Eris was too tired to care. He could weather the humiliation of the priestess finding out. It was the whole court and all of Pyrthian learning of his predicament he wasn’t sure he could fully handle.

And Helion.

Helion would probably kill him, if only to keep Eris from inheriting Day. He doubted his mother could sway him differently. Eris was always worried about that happening with Lucien. He never dreamed it could happen to him too.

Eris mulled it over in his mind while he cradled his head in his hands. How did he not know? He looked nothing like Lucien. However, the more Eris thought about it, the more his stomach soured. He didn’t have the Spring sun to see if his skin would tan. He didn’t burn as easily as his other brothers. He had to spell his hair to keep it neat. So many little details adding up to a glaring miscalculation on his part.

And Lucien. The gods have damned him as he made promises to Lucien he now couldn’t keep. He couldn’t even- his chest tightened. What would Celeste think? She was going to come back and find him an utter failure. An heir to none and unwanted bastard of a court he never knew.

When the door opened, snapping him out his thoughts, he and Piran jumped to their feet. His mother walked in and behind her the Head Priestess. Shame washed over him as she looked at Piran with shock. Her eyes seemed to dare not glance at Eris.

“High Lord,” she said with a curtsy. “May the Mother bless your reign.”

“No,” Piran shook his head. “It will not be my reign the Mother will bless.” He looked at their mother then back to the priestess. “Priestess Rhea, I need to transfer the power.”

She shifted on her feet, staring at the floor. “My Lord, I am not sure it can be done. There are risks.”

“What are the risks?” Piran asked.

“The Magic is ancient. If it feels disrespected, there would be devastating consequences. The cauldron blesses those it deems worthy. It is a slight against the cauldron and the mother to go against those blessings.”

“But there is a way,” Piran pressed on.

“You could lose your life,” she replied softly.

Eris saw the pain that flashed in his mother’s eyes. He turned to his brother. “Piran, this is nonsense. Just stay High Lord and make me second in command.”

“No, it’s supposed to be you,” he countered. “You’re the strongest of all of us. It- it should not matter whose blood runs through your veins. It should be you.”

“Mother would never forgive me if you die trying to make me High Lord.”

“Boys, please-“ she started but Eris held up his hand.

“No, mother. You’ve suffered enough.”

Fire shown in Piran’s eyes. “Well, I am High Lord for now and I command it. Rhea, explain the spell.”

Eris glowered but couldn’t fight the command. Rhea couldn’t either. She went into detail on how the process worked. How they would have to stop at just the right time before all of Piran’s powers were drained. If they didn’t, his very life would leave him. She added with great emphasis that nothing of this sort had ever been attempted in her lifetime.

“Even if it worked,” she added, “the cauldron could curse the reign. The Autumn Court would be a shell of its former self until the magic rights itself.”

“The reign will not be cursed. The Mother blesses those who act selflessly. I’m not doing this because I want to. I’m doing what’s best for the court.”

Eris scoffed. “This is everything but selfless Pir. Stop being a coward and accept this is how things are meant to be!”

“The Cauldron is wrong.” Piran yelled so loudly it came as a roar. The two females recoiled but Eris stood his ground. “I can’t do this!”

“You can and you will,” Eris replied.

Eris and Piran stared each other down. It was their mother, sensing the increasing hostility, that ushered the priestess into the hall. He was uncertain what that would accomplish, but when the door shut Piran’s shoulders went slack.

“We split it.” He said and Eris narrowed his gaze. His brother pressed on. “We split the power. We both take the title of High Lord. You do politics and I will take over agriculture. We split the legions.”

“And when you get bored of sharing?” Eris snarled.

If it wounded Piran’s pride, he didn’t show it. “We make a bargain to never willingly or knowingly plot to overthrow the other.”

“What happens, when you die? The next heir only gets half the power of a High Lord? How can you not see how ridiculous this is?”

He wanted nothing more than to collapse, settling for leaning back against the wall. Dawn was going to break soon. They didn’t have time to keep arguing. And Eris was tired. So very tired.

He continued. “We need to focus on damage control. We cannot kept wasting time arguing about who deserves the power more. The governors and lords loyal to Beron need to be elimated.”

Silence fell heavy between them.

“Fine,” Piran said, sounding just as tired as Eris. “I keep the powers and you’ll be my second.”

In the future Eris knew he would make peace with that. For the moment, he was reluctantly thinking of all the things he would have done if he had been crowned High Lord. Piran was right on that front; he wasn’t trained. Eris would need to swallow his own pride for the next few weeks while he walked his brother through the ropes.

“Your first act, I request you pardon Lucien.” Piran nodded. Eris was relieved he didn’t argue. “Then you’ll call the court together before sending out formal letters to the other High Lords.”

Piran still looked worried. “And what do we tell them, Eris? What do we tell them when they see I am now High Lord?” And you are not, went unsaid.

Eris shrugged. “You tell them to bow.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Author’s note: I really wanted to play with the fact Eris and Helion have the same eyes. I also wanted to explore what would happen if Eris wasn’t high lord and how he would feel.

[zoppzoop]

"I love this show where everybody Beats chip up and he.. dies"

I AM WRAPPING HIM UP IN A BLANKET AND GOVING HIM MY MINI DJUNGELSKOG AND A CUP OF HOT CHOCOLATE AS HE DESERVES!!!!!!!!

[thatgirlonstage]

Obviously nothing is more gutting than Diamond of the Day but the end of S2 is truly like. Merlin is having consecutively the five worst days of his entire life and has made several of the most impossible, cruel choices imaginable and he can’t talk about any of it with anyone except Gaius. Arthur asks him what’s wrong and there are like sixteen different true answers and he can’t share any of them.

[righteousmen]

don't mind me, just thinking about how Aemond pays someone to cuddle him and pet his hair