#The Weight of Duty

[aristocraticvision]

Chapter 352: The Weight of Duty

Michael shifted uncomfortably his feet. He’d been waiting outside his father’s audience chamber for nearly ten minutes and was becoming impatient.

“I’m terribly sorry, your highness,” Bixby said, noticing Michael’s discomfort. “His royal highness is meeting with Carl Salworth, the president of the Royal Academy of Science and Technology, regarding the academy’s annual gala. I’m sure he didn’t mean to make you wait.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s fine, Bix,” he said. “After all, isn’t waiting the very definition of my job?”

Bixby frowned.

“I suppose you could look at it that way,” the aide said. “But I prefer to think of your role as helping to support Prince Stephen with his many duties. One is passive, while the other is active – and, I believe, more accurate.”

Michael sighed.

“You’re right, of course,” he said. “I apologize, Bix.”

At that moment, a footman opened the door and a distinguished older gentleman emerged and bowed to Michael.

"Your highness," he said. "I look forward to working with you."

Michael nodded politely, covering his confusion as Salworth turned to leave.

Stepping into his father’s audience chamber, Michael found Prince Stephen standing at the window, gazing out intently.

“Father?” Michael called, gently.

“Mmm?” Stephen mumbled, turning. “Oh yes, Michael. Good.”

“I met Dr. Salworth on his way out,” Michael said. “From his comments, I’m assuming I have an assignment?”

“Indeed,” Stephen replied, moving toward his son. “I’ve been struggling with too many commitments these days, so I’ve decided to start passing on some of my engagements to you. As my heir, I think it will be good for you to begin shouldering more of the load.”

“May I ask the nature of the task?” Michael asked.

“You will be my representative at the Academy’s annual gala next month at the Weston Museum of Natural History,” Stephen said. “You will be recognizing the winners of this year’s Royal Science Grants and opening the museum’s new medieval Weston exhibit.”

Michael felt a pit grow in his stomach. Of all his royal duties, public speaking was his least favorite.

“Father,” he began hesitantly. “You must know how uncomfortable I am in front of large groups like that, and ….”

“Michael,” Stephen said forcefully. “I understand your fears, but it’s time for you to grow up and begin acting like a Prince of Weston. I’m not going to be around forever, so you may as well get used to doing things you’re uncomfortable with.”

Michael took a deep breath, knowing that any further resistance would do no good.

“I understand, father,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, son,” Stephen said. “I know you’ll make me proud.”

CHAPTER 1 | BEGINNING OF PART 4 | PREV | NEXT

Continent of Oceana | History of Weston | History of Corwyn | History of Torenth | History of Allycia

[bi-writes]

MOB thots….simon teasing MOB all day by putting her in diff suggestive positions. she gets all excited everytime but alas. still no dick

mail-order bride (lightly 18+)

"hmmm...y'think this table for the study, yeah?" simon asks. you shrug, walking around it, crossing your arms over your chest. you tilt your head to the side. the fluorescent lights of the furniture store make it a little hard to envision your house, but you try to make due with some of the sunlight that's peeking through from outside.

"y'think this is the right color? i mean...i really liked that sage paint color, so i think going with a darker wood might look--oh!" you gasp when you feel him right behind you. your husband's hand finds your waist easily, smoothing around the band of your jeans before he pulls you back and presses you against his front. you jerk a little when his pelvis presses right up against your ass, but he's so cool, so calm, so collected--it's so hard to be normal with him, and yet he behaves so nonchalant. as if nothing phases him, even though you can feel how much you affect him right against your back.

your eyes flutter shut when he slides his hand a little lower, using his other hand to push against your back. your hip hinges, and you mewl as your palms hit the surface of the desk. you bend, easy, and simon hums when he notices the height is perfect, right at your hip. even bent over, your feet are planted firmly on the ground, and he smacks his lips under the mask as he pulls you upright again, right against his chest.

he leans over your shoulder, kissing under your ear through the mask.

"this one," he grunts, chuckling. "suits us just right, yeah, baby?"

"y-yeah, simon. i-i like this one."

[temeyes]

I don't know why. I just wanna send you this.

they put the sergeants on harnesses cuz they're on time out

[gomzdrawfr]

Imagine having bear!Price all to yourself

you don't have to, here let me show you instead

[eiraeths]

soap: i think i know what would fix you

ghost: fix what?

soap: in general

ghost: go on

soap: i medically burrito you in a blanket

ghost: and how is that done medically?

soap: you ever seen how vets will wrap up a kitten?

ghost: sounds like the ideal torture method

soap: that a no?

ghost: hm. no. i’m convinced, lets try it

[roachymochi]

Not gonna lie if i was in Shuro's place and every time I tried to do something by myself as a child only to meet the Knife Hag, I too would have trouble expressing when something or someone is bothering me in an healthy manner.

[pampanope]

Phillip Graves but he's a lil opossum man. Lil ears and a fat little tail that he uses to hold hands with his shadows.

I'm feral for this man.

PossumGrabes is cuter than i expected omgghh🥹🥹🥹

I DID NOT KNOW POSSUMS HAD NATURAL FINGERLESS GLOVES💕 (he still wears gloves to keep his fur clean and soft tho 🥰)

[s0fter-sin]

ghost fucking soap so hard and so good he passes out but he utterly panics about it

he thinks he must’ve ignored soap asking to stop; was it pain that made him pass out? how bad could it have been to make him pass out when he’s been shot and kept going? should he bring him to medical? he’ll never touch him again, he’ll never so much as look at him again; he’ll ask for a transfer- fuck that, a dishonourable discharge. there’s no coming back from this

he spirals, guilt chasing hatred chasing despair chasing fear, until soap finally wakes back up

soap's still floating, loose-limbed and buzzing; fucked so thoroughly out of his head that it takes him a while to notice ghost isn't in bed with him anymore. he frowns, lifting a heavy head off the pillow and freezes. ghost's on the other side of the room, curled up tight in the corner as far away from soap as he could get without leaving him alone

(he would've left, would've made sure soap never had to see his face again and be reminded of what he did to him, of the monster he’d let into his bed- but he couldn't just leave him unconscious; what if he didn't wake up, he had to make sure he was safe first even if he'll rightfully hate him forever when he does wake up)

soap's voice when he calls out to him makes him flinch, his head burying deeper in his knees. cold worry chases the bliss from his blood and soap pushes himself up but his shaking arms can't hold his weight

the sound of him collapsing back onto the bed makes ghost rear up, his panic growing and soap's heart breaks at his red rimmed eyes

it takes a long time for soap to coax him back to the bed, countless loops of, "sweetheart, please, come here, what happened? it's okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

(and how ghost’s self-hatred grows hearing soap comforting him; hearing the concern and love in his voice when he doesn’t deserve a drop of it)

it takes even longer for ghost to believe soap when he says that he passed out because he felt so good; that he never asked ghost to stop, never wanted him to stop. that he trusts him more than anything and knows he'd rather die than ever hurt him, especially like that

“you’re not a monster, love,” he promises, soft with conviction and it’s as much a surrender as a relief when he collapses into his lap and lets him hold him close

ghost believes johnny but he still can't bring himself to be intimate with him for a while; that fear still haunting him, but soap doesn't hold it against him, doesn't complain about ghost's perceived "step back" in their relationship

hell, ghost seems to hate it more than he does; he misses being with soap, misses the connection, the closeness they shared, the safety and quiet he found in his embrace, but he's always trusted soap more than he trusts himself

soap doesn't let him be consumed by his fear or worse, sabotage them and turn it into a punishment; doesn't let him even get through the suggestion of switching because he knows how much he hates it and he won’t let him twist something as good and pure as their physical love into something self-harming

instead, he brings them back to the basics, working through the steps to get ghost comfortable with intimacy again, to get him to trust himself again; spends happy months just grinding and exchanging handjobs like when their relationship first started

and it's a happy day for them both when soap finally falls apart on his cock once again, anxiety the farthest thing from ghost's mind when his arms are wrapped so tightly around him, kissing a smile against his lips

[morthern]

Pinned :3c

[wodania]

the young wolf sketches

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.

[shadow0-1]

Enjoying the summer breeze

[skulldetergent]

chubby ghost i will always love you.

as much as ghost is an undeniably fit and athletic person, he's also got a good amount of extra fat on him. soap adores his curves, and never misses the chance to rest his head on ghost's belly, play with his love handles, or take a nap on his massive thighs. ghost puts up with those antics, and has to tear soap off him as if he were a clingy housecat when he's had enough

ghost is the perfect mix of muscles and fat, and it only enhances his already impressive and intimidating statue. and soap is smitten– his boyfriend is simultaneously a strong and capable soldier but also the perfect pillow. the epitome of beauty, soap would say (and i agree)

[lemonwrap]

I dunno if you take asks, but your Merman!Ghost + Soap AU is just mmm and I got hit with inspiration-

---------

Imagine:

Dog!Soap, loving paddleboarding and surfing, loving feeling the sea breeze in his hair and ears, the ocean being his place to relax after long days. Suddenly, a huge wave hits him out of nowhere, dragging him under, fast and hard. He thinks it's the end. Until this sleek, beautiful creature, with eyes as dark and thick as the night sky, grasps him by the hand and drags him upwards to the surface.

Months go by, Soap can't look at the ocean anymore, but he always, somewhere in the back of his mind, yearns to go out to a pier and jump in, go diving for the beautiful creature that saved him. He wants to thank him, do something for him, like any dog would for someone who saved them from the brink of death.

Suddenly, the nearby aquarium offers a new exhibit, only described in vague words and blurry pictures.

Price and Gaz drag Soap along, knowing he needed to go somewhere, do something, get out of the house, to cheer him up a bit.

As they make their way through the crowd around the large glass aquarium, and get right to the glass, Soap sees the same eyes he saw that day in the ocean, just as deep and enrapturing as ever, staring right back at him.

----------

And ofc anything can be changed if you want to write it-

I have no focus really to write it full out, but I also really wanted to share it somewhere lol

Omg, omg.

Ghost doesn’t even seem to see the other visitors once he spots Soap. He just stares past all the people with those pitch black eyes, intense and unwavering with zero doubt that he saw Soap.

Even Gaz and Price notice the merman’s unusual reaction.

“He noticed you,” Gaz says, then playfully flicks one of Soap’s perked ears. “Think it’s the ears?”

“Shut up,” Soap says absentmindedly in response to Gaz, not paying much attention to anything but the merman. He doesn’t look sick, but he looks unhappy. The aquarium’s water is clean enough, but it’s small and overly bright with no place to hide from prying eyes and the occasional flashing of cameras. The merman seems agitated, too, swimming in tight circles and scowling whenever the glass is tapped but repeatedly looking back to Soap.

They’d arrived in the afternoon, so there’s less people than at opening and Soap has a chance to get up close to the glass. He can’t keep his tail from wagging, but it slows when the merman doesn’t look any happier at his proximity, just more desperate.

“He likes him!” a young girl exclaims when she sees the merman pressing his palms to the glass, clearly the first time he’s bothered to interact with anyone. More camera flashes go off, and the merman’s black eyes squint, irritated by the lights, but he keeps looking at Soap, miserable and longing.

Soap hasn’t been back to the ocean since he almost drowned, but can almost feel the salt of the water in his lungs and burning his throat.

The merman saved Soap’s life that day, and he vows that he’ll get the merman out somehow.

[infernal-lamb]

Hey, I've seen your drawings from Neves. They are brilliant. I like her a lot, and are you writing fanfic about her?

Ahh thank you!!! That's really flattering fkljgfjf....It's always a pleasant surprise that people like Neves :'-) (and I love when I get an excuse to post my doodles of her and the Lamb lol)

I am in the works of trying to write a cotl fanfic abt this specific au (I call it The Apostate & The Martyr in my head lol), but writing doesn't come as easily as drawing to me SIGH. I've actually written quite a bit, but the problem is putting all these random excerpts together to make something coherent LOL. But yes, the fic is intended to be the story of The Lamb and Neves' friendship amidst the brutality and terror of the Lands of the Old Faith, how to deal with the consequences of their choices, and the mutual alienation they experience in their positions....as silly as that sounds lol. It's very self-indulgent! I just liked the concept of the "Outsider" POV, so to speak, being subjected to the sort of normalized violence that exists in cotl. Though, I might end up just making comics if I can't pan out this fanfic well enough!

[pampanope]

~7-11 Lore~

Name: Efren Torres Aldrich

Alias: 7-11, Cerberus, Shadow Company’s Dog (Konni)

Affiliations: Shadow Company, USMC (former)

Age: 34 yo

DoB: May 7 1990

Height: 6’1

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: filipino/white

Born in: Queens, NY

Pronouns: He/him

Gender: cis man

Orientation: panromantic homosexual

Specialty/Résumé

• Former Marines Force Reconnaissance operator

• Deep reconnaissance with qualifications in parachuting and combat diving (MOS 0326)

• Profficiency as a sniper and rifleman, at intelligence collection, mountain warfare, CQB, and small squad tactics.

• Dutiful Shadow babysitter

• Graves whisperer (usually)

Personality

• calm, quiot, generally easy going; speaks in low even tones

• observant, pays attention to the goings on of those around him, and completes tasks efficiently.

• treats fellow Shadows with warmth, courtesy, and long-suffering exasperation. Takes some time before he feels comfortable enough to freely goof off with other people.

• Has a playful side; likes to harmlessly tease other Shadows to a certain degree but is all business when working or on an op

• sees all of Shadow Company as his family; their success and well-being are his top priorities.

• this devotion towards Graves and SC has a possessive slant to it; he’s willing to destroy anyone and anything that threatens his family

Physical Description

• lean, fit overall build

• dark brown hair and dark sleepy looking eyes

• mole beside left eye

• very light stubble

• scars on left arm (IED shrapnel), wrists (rope scars), around fingers (balisong flipping) and upper left side of torso (gunshot wound)

• Usually wears neutral dark colors, mask, tactical gloves, combat boots and baseball cap

Psychology

• the loss of his parents at a young age, years of instability, and military training have led to the creation of a mental coping mechanism that can be described as “a feral hind-brain creature” that views individuals as pack, predator, prey, those who need protection and those who need to be cut down.

• 7-11 understands it’s not normal to look at the world in such a way, nor is it normal to want to sink his teeth into the throats of his enemies or into the flesh of those he cares about, in the hopes that he leaves a mark that they’ll carry even after they’ve gone.

• he keeps this part of himself carefully contained within with the majority of Shadows non the wiser,

Love Language: Touch, Gift Giving

Prefers affection via: Touch, Quality time

_____________________

Strengths

• loyal

• diligent and efficient

• puts his subordinates before himself

• smooth operator on the field

• stays calm under pressure and in the face of unusual situations

• thoughtful and empathetic

• can fall asleep anywhere

Weaknesses

• can be stubborn

• tends to forgo personal safety and care if he thinks it’s necessary

• has abandonment issues

• guilt-ridden

• may be vengeful, especially so on behalf of someone else

Hobbies

• photography

• karaoke

• balisong flipping

• sparring

**• Graves**

Likes

• cuddles and head scritches

• SC gossip

• collecting large, huggable plushies

• napping in warm cozy places

• training Shadows (usually)

• getting ragdolled and tossed around like a salad

• displays of physical strength

• training or games that allow him to hunt down others (or be hunted)

Dislikes

• incompetent and callous leadership

• humidity

• the sun (this boi burrrns)

• watermelons (tastes like sugary wet sand)

• Shadows or Graves getting hurt

• being cornered

• Shepherd

• disorganization

Fears

• Losing everyone and everything

• not being enough

• substance abuse and addiction

Preference

Fave Color: Blue

Fave Season: Autumn

Fave Music: 80’s rock and power ballads, most of 90’s and 2000s

Fave Animals: Crows and cats

Fave Food: savory snacks, burgers, lumpia, kare kare

Favorite Plants: blue orchids and monstera

Coffee or tea: coffee (once a day)

Night or Day: Night

____________________

Idiosyncrasies & Random Stuff

~ named after his mother’s favorite billiards champion (Efren “Bata” Reyes)

~ He’s always had a blushing problem; doesn’t matter what emotion it is, if it’s strong enough, he gets flushed.

~ started out wearing a mask to hide the blushing and hide his expression; it’s fun keeping fellow Shadows guessing

~ likes to make up reasons why he wears the mask all the time

~ eventually realizes that he got so used to freely making silly expressions behind a mask that he can’t school his features without it anymore

~ which is fine, it became habit anyway; he enjoys any rumors among the Shadows about him and why he stays masked when others remove theirs outside of ops.

~ there are way too many benefits to wearing a mask for him to quit

~ Biting is a very valid tactic, on and off the battlefield; as an offensive move and form of affection (but he doesn’t bite out of affection as often as he’d like because he doesn’t wanna scare the other Shadows lol)

~ kinda short circuits a bit when handled roughly

~ Tore a man’s throat out with his teeth on Grave’s behalf; Graves **really** liked that and decided to give him the callsign Cerberus and collared him (it’s a pleasant grounding presence around his neck)

~ will start growling when stress levels are maxed out or if very sleep deprived

~ keeps a cork board of photos in his quarters; photos of Shadows past and present

~is banned from the kitchen(s), no, not just SC HQ or bases.

~ grabs ahold of anyone or anything that comes into contact with him while

sleeping; he’s like a bear trp that way

~ he’s seen the effects of substance abuse and addiction first hand; it’s why he limits alcohol intake, drinks one cup of coffee a day (hence the regularly scheduled naps), and avoids gambling and smoking

~ deeply misses his parents and his childhood; often wonders if they’d even recognize him as their son

- Voice claim: Isaac Clarke (VA: Gunner Wright) (Dead Space games)

______________________

Backstory

7-11/Efren is one of Graves’ most loyal Shadows and considers himself a vanguard of the Company.

After losing his parents at 13 to a vehicular accident (for which he blames himself for) and the subsequent abuse and neglect from his uncle, Efren spent most of his teenage years feeling untethered, numb yet seething with anger and guilt.

He spent his early years working part time jobs to make ends meet while getting into fist fights with the local gangs to release the deep seated fury within.

A final altercation with his uncle drove Efren to seek structure and a place to belong in the Marine Corps.

There, Efren, while excelling at every aspect soldiering, would often be easily goaded and provoked into brawling with other recruits of his cohort.

This led to his first meeting with Graves, a cocky, silver tongued, MARSOC operator in his mid twenties.

Graves issued a challenge to Efren, which ended with Efren being so thoroughly *humbled* that it altered his brain chemistry, quieting his feral hind brain to a dull roar for the first time in what felt like forever.

Fixated on Graves after that meeting, Efren joined Force Recon with the hope of providing crucial intel to support his fellow Marines (especially Graves).

He always kept an ear out for news of KIA personnel; thankfully Graves was never one of them.

After years of serving in Force Reconnaissance, Efren was faced with making a decision whether or not to re-up to continue his service or to move on into civilian life.

As if summoned, Graves appeared after so many years, and whisked Efren away to his new Shadow Company, where he world finally find a new home.

The irony of feeling at peace in a PMC was not lost on him.

Wherever Graves went, he would be his Shadow and support. For Efren, it was the least he could do after the man gave him everything.

((May add more as i go✨))