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railroad-migraine · 3 years ago

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From the sentence starters: "It's hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you" with Dorain pls. I mean it just screams staying up late at a tavern drinking and the normally shy reader just blurts that out without thinking about what they're saying because its been such a long day. Thanks in advance if you manage to get to this one!

Omg it definitely does. Big ol’ yes from me. I absolutely loved writing this.

~ Poet

Notes: Minor spoilers for C3E3. Very soft. Mutual pining. Requests are open!

Words: 1206

“One More For The Road”

->Dorian x gn!reader

“Let me hear it!”

The few patrons that remained inside of the tavern lifted their heads at the sudden commotion at the front of the establishment. More specifically, the commotion coming from beside your table. The wizened but certainly not wise fighter lifted his tankard into the air, his stance in the doorway staggering and off balance as he toasted: “Bertrand’s Bells!” The slurred murmurs in reply only made you grin wider as you sipped on your drink with the air genasi at your side.

Bertrand returned outside and faced you both- the only members of the party who had stayed up long enough to see him in his drunken state - and smiled. The wrinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes showed his age, but there was nothing but a cheeky fondness in his expression - he may have been very handsome in his youth. “Branding,” he said simply, giving an almost suave wink to you both.

Dorian nodded in understanding, watching the man grip his drink and collect himself. “Good night, Bertrand.”

“Stay safe, Bertie,” you added fondly, patting his arm as he sidled past you.

“Good night,” he quipped, giving a wobbly bow to you. It was a fine night for a stroll, and even in his stupor he had the manners of a gent. He stood there for moment, swaying, glancing left and right indecisively before heading in the direction he believed Imogen and Laudna were staying.

Dorian audibly sighed at the retreating form of Bertrand, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and tapping his fingers on the wooden table with the other. With the stresses dealt in today’s adventure, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders sitting here with you in the inn. As if he just remembered your presence, he turned in his seat, elbow propped up and resting his chin on his palm.

“One more for the road?” he proposed, pointing to the now empty cup in your hands. It was on Bertrand's tab, and so were the empty rooms upstairs, so what was the harm in staying up a bit later? He spotted the pensive look on your face and a light purple blush dusted along his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Only if you want to, that is. I just thought it would be nice. Before we retire to bed- our separate, respective beds, that is. But, of course, the night is still young so…” He cleared his throat, halting his words as he let out a breath.

You considered the suggestion, and followed with a nod. “… I’d like that.” Dorian almost didn’t catch your words, but it was plain to see that you were hiding a smile behind the shyness. With a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, he snapped his fingers and called inside to get the bartender’s attention, and eventually two nightcaps were set down before you. Although you held the fresh drink in your hand, Dorian didn’t touch his immediately. Instead, be fiddled with his sleeve’s material with sudden interest. A silence enveloped the table, but you realised it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you would have imagined it to be.

Dorian eventually cleared his throat and pulled you back from your thoughts. “So…”

“So,” you quietly mused, tracing the lip of your tankard and regarding your friend with a soft gaze. He smiled at you and finally took a sip from his drink. The corners of your lips managed to quirk upwards at the action. “Homesick yet?”

“Pffft, how can you suggest such things?" he said, as if the idea was ridiculous. "Come on. We’re friends, you and I. You know I’m just your average wandering bard - I don’t have a home to miss.” His flustered state told you otherwise. Your deadpan look must have nudged something within him, as he promptly slouched a bit in his seat before continuing.

“I mean…” There it is, you thought triumphantly. “Sure. I will confess our little uh, ‘excursions’ back in Tal'Dorei linger on my mind, and my thoughts do drift to Opal and Dariax from time to time but, y'know. I have you.” Heat flooded your face at his words, and he seemed to realise the weight of them too late. He coughed into his drink, and scrambled to clear the air. “Not that I 'have' you, and certainly not just you, singularly. What I mean is that... Fearne and Orym are here too. Heh.”

He huffed something similar to a laugh, in sync with a short night breeze that tousled his hair. The moonlight softly highlighted his features and sincere expression in the just the right way, his demeaner the perfect combination of awkward and charming. A humble bard, indeed.

But… you noticed a slight strain on his face. Tiredness lingered in his smile, and bags were developing under his eyes - he is exhausted, you noted. And yet he was the one to suggest an extension to your evening, prolonging your company with chat and drinks. For what reason would he abandon the lovely guestroom that was waiting for him upstairs for so long?

Dorian was watching you too, in the same state of curiosity, and longing clearly in his gaze. Nearly overwhelmed with realisation, you felt your heart skip a beat.

He’s here for you.

Dorian averted his gaze and rubbed his forearms, imagining a chill in the air that did not exist, and turned a little shy. “And you? How are you finding Marquet so far? ”

“It's okay, but it's hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you.”

Both yourself and the genasi were surprised with the newfound confidence in your voice, finding it nearly as shocking as the confession itself. He swallowed hard, pointing his finger back and forth between you. “You- you want-” His finger rested upon the mantle covering his chest, eyes wide in disbelief. “To kiss. Me. You and me kissing. Is- is that what you said? That is what you said, right?”

You sucked in a breath and scooted into the seat next to him, barely catching how he too held his breath. Boldly, you pinched his chin and turned him to face you, your chest housing a thundering staccato that would rival any musician’s.

His skin was scalding to the touch, and you were almost certain you were the same. With the fatigue you felt in your bones, and your confidence bolstered by a little liquid courage, you leaned in closer. Slowly, enough so that he could back away to change his mind. Dorian didn't move an inch. "It's been a day," you muttered. He nodded in agreement, familiar crystal-blue eyes flickering between your own eyes and your mouth.

"Maybe," he breathed. "Maybe... we should call it a night then." His expression told you that was the last thing he wanted now.

"Good night, Dorian," you chuckled.

"Goodni- mmph!" And you sealed his lips with yours.

Relaxing into the kiss, one of his hands lingered on your shoulder, the other moving to hover over your waist. The next few days promised to be eventful to say the least - however you couldn't help but cherish the calm you were provided before the storm.

HA, forgive me for the pun at the end of the fic, it was NOT intentional, I promise hehe <3

~ Poet

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wild-aloof-rebel · 3 years ago

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Hi Leslie! Have you watched outer range yet? Curious what your thoughts are so far.

hmmm, what thoughts do i have so far??

the show is beautifully shot, though i wish the nighttime scenes were more well lit because in some places i literally couldn't see what was going on without basically turning my living room into a cave

every single one of these men needs therapy

our real introduction to billy being him doing donuts in the bg on his ATV while singing "private eyes" as his brothers try to do Serious Business is such a perfect first impression of him as a character. can't wait to see more of him (and i don't mean more as in that mirror scene, lmao)

i love time fuckery in general, so i'm Very Here for whatever nonsense is happening with this void. i do feel like dumping dead bodies and whatever else you want to get rid of into a magical mystery hole is just asking for trouble though, royal, so maybe stop doing that

i guess i have exactly one (1) theory so far. i'll put it under a cut in case some people don't want to theorize and would rather just go along for the ride...

i think autumn is amy as an adult. like royal, she didn't have memories of her childhood before age 9, which is about how old i assume amy is supposed to be. the symbol she's been drawing is, as amy points out, very similar to the abbott brand, which could mean she's actually an abbott (plus the fact that it's amy herself who points it out to her). amy's drawing of heaven has her and everyone else in the family in yellow, but then in the inside the void scene, autumn is the only one we really get in yellow (there are other people in yellow obviously, but not the other family members). i feel like there's something too in the intersection of autumn having money, her asking royal how much he'd sell the ranch for, and the repeated emphasis on it being a family ranch passed down through generations. (maybe it passes to her as the granddaughter and she sells it, i guess to whomever is in charge in the inside the void scene? idk exactly, but i feel like there's a connection to be made there either way.) and also olive abercrombie def looks like she could have been cast specifically to pass as a younger version of imogen poots.

#outer range spoilers #outer range #anon #replies #that's the main stuff for now i think #but if there's something else specific you want to know about lmk!

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stomp-that-ho-regard · 3 years ago

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mircallablue asked:

Hey, if its cool with you I want to respond to your last anon, because they said some things I kind of disagree with (or at least they said some things I think it's important to phrase more clearly). Gonna risk doing it off anon because I'm a masochist I guess.

Firstly, Imodna really isn't a b/j apology ship, and I'll explain why. CR doesn't give a fuck about what its fans think, and doesn't make decisions to keep them happy. At least, not in *that* sense. If they cared about b/j or b/j fans, they simply wouldn't have done those characters dirty in the first place. What CR *does* care about is keeping its toxic fans on board, while also making money and building "the brand". And they want "the brand" to be as market friendly and un-offensive as possible. That's why they got rid of Brian. That's why their queer rep is either subtext and tragedy (for mlm) or hypersexual and tragedy (for wlw). That's why the anti-imperialist theme got dropped in campaign 2. That's why they never address the white-washed art. CR is 100% aware of the discourse surrounding the b/j retcon - how could they not be? They're aware of the god damned Imogen glasses discourse ffs.

For this reason, I honestly believe that imodna is at least partially intended to just be shipping bait. But not for b/j shippers - it's for b/y shippers. CR knows it needs to have *something* queer, because it's a supposedly left-wing company, and fortunately, b/y shippers have more than proven that they will go feral over crumbs. So - Introduce two women, have them hold hands, have them share a bed, but avoid defining the relationship for as long as possible, and occasionally no-homo or gal-pal them if they start to get to close to each other. And don't mention *anything* mlm unless it's dead in a backstory or it's so vague it has to be clarified on twitter after the fact JKR style. This is why Marisha interrupted Robbie so bizarrely on the new talk show - he was about to mention Dorians crush on Orym - so Marisha had to leap in and make it hetero as abruptly as possible, so much so that even Robbie and Matt were stunned. CR just wants to keep pathetic b/y shippers "manifesting" every week like they were at the end of campaign 2.

And anyone who thinks CR doesn't make decisions like this is honestly so naïve as to be pitiful.

Secondly, the problem with b/y isn't that it's sexual, there's nothing wrong with that - the problem is that it's ONLY sexual, despite trying to convince us that it's true love. I bet if you were to count, B/Y honestly probably said less than 500 words to each other 1-on-1 before saying "I love you", and I think that's probably being generous. This, as I've mentioned many times before, is a very common trope that straight people fall into when they try to write/portray wlw.

BY shippers will misrepresent this criticism of BY by saying that "b/j shippers think BY is a lesbian ship for straight people", and that's a strawman at best (or sometimes, as the anon pointed out, they'll just throw wild accusations at the wall to see what sticks). You *could* say that BY is a lesbian ship *by* straight people, which is factually correct, and this trope is why we say that. That's why Marisha said, VERBATIM "my feelings just kind of transferred". Because to her, the fact that it was wlw was all that mattered by that point. The specific women in the relationship had become irrelevant. b/j is what happened naturally, and b/y is what *had* to happen for corporate reasons. I notice that b/y shippers never talk about or acknowledge that line... I wonder why...

Thirdly, yes, it is completely pathetic that some b/j shippers would get sucked in by CR again, but honestly, it's shocking to me that anyone would. Because, it is genuinely 100% in-character for c/ritical role to just start pretending, at any moment, that Imogen and Laudna have never been room mates. They've literally done exactly that before. Imogen and Laudna might go the next 41 episodes without having a single 1-on-1 conversation, and CR fans who ship, say, imogen and dorian, will call you delusional if you try to point out how weird it is. That's exactly what they did to b/j, and that was after *99* episodes, not a measly 20 something.

I bring this up because I feel like a lot of people still don't get that THAT'S why b/j shippers reacted the way they did. It has nothing to do with the ship not becoming canon, most of us never thought that would happen anyway. We just noticed that it was a literal retcon, which has continued to this day (the Kamordah M9 animated recap, for example). We made such a fuss about it at the time, mainly to get the reassurance from others that we weren't *losing our fucking minds*, and of course, very many b/y shippers were (and are) happy to leap in and tell that we're mentally ill. Or call us lesbophobes. Or anti-sex. Or infantilising. Or predatory. Or TERFs. Or saying we hate Laura. Or saying we worship Laura. Or accuse us of sending death threats. Or literally just pick a bad thing out of a hat, honestly. Anything to make it so that CR hasn't done anything wrong.

Well, everything you’ve said here is spot on, as usual. And hey, just for the record, feel free to come off anon more, if you want to. No one’s gonna be chewing anybody out on here lol We’re all in the same boat.

I do have some things to add...

“For this reason, I honestly believe that imodna is at least partially intended to just be shipping bait. But not for b/j shippers - it's for b/y shippers. CR knows it needs to have *something* queer, because it's a supposedly left-wing company, and fortunately, b/y shippers have more than proven that they will go feral over crumbs.” Yeah, that could be what’s happening. I think CR mistakenly believes that the BY shipping fandom is comprised of most, if not all, of the queer women in their fandom. So yes, they could believe they are playing to a perceived majority; to keep them watching, and buying merch, and to get free promo out of them. The problem with that though is that, right now, as I’ve pointed out before, there are a LOT of BY’s who want nothing to do with Im/odna. Mainly because they know how many BJ’s ship it. They might find the dynamic cute, but refuse to actively ship it because they despise the idea of BJ’s ever possibly being ‘rewarded’. So, I don’t know how well that plan is working or will work out for CR. Even still, I do recognize that CR has become more PR-conscious as of late, so this could very well be just that; a PR move (naively aimed towards BY’s).

“You *could* say that BY is a lesbian ship *by* straight people, which is factually correct” This is really something they don’t want to accept. That these are straight women attempting to play out a lesbian romance. The amount of outrage you’d get from stating this directly to them is astonishing. They are so convinced Marisha is bi and they will live and die by this so-called ‘fact’ even though she never actually said it anywhere or even implied it. I think the one thing that they keep basing this on was something from the Q&A panel the cast did just before the live show in Chicago (Feb ‘20). No one had any audio or video of this, so no hard receipts. I think someone complimented her on the way she was playing Beau and wondered how she got it so right or something. And she said one sentence, no elaboration, “Yeah, you know, I went to college.” I remember that bit because people kept repeating it over and over as if it meant something. She never went into detail. Never said/implied she had crushes on her friends, or ever had flings or actual relationships with women. It was just “I went to college.” (To me, it didn’t confirm that Marisha is bi, it confirmed that she’s a tone deaf straight woman who experimented once in college and now believes that she totally understands what it’s like to be a lesbian.) But of course, the fandom took it differently, and it’s the only thing they have so they’ve held onto it with a vice grip ever since. With Ashley, I’m not really sure why they think she’s bi. She’s never said/implied it. It seems like her voicing Ellie in T/LOU and being moved by the love story bringing comfort to people means she can’t possibly be straight. Apparently to them, actresses can’t just be good at their jobs, something more has to be going on there. And that’s why the second you mention them being straight, especially Marisha, they lose their fucking minds. They’ll insist that it’s OBVIOUS that she’s bi, and somehow make you feel stupid for not believing that she is.

These were tags in the notes of a post calling out the people who were calling out Marisha after she bragged about ‘accidentally’ showing an IT guy her NSFW BY lockscreen. From user c/upcakesandhags...

From user s/hmendrickthemagician...

Here’s just a taste of how deep into this some people are...

Good god. That one tweet saying the whole cast is some form of queer, except Travis lol

Please tell me when and how the fandom collectively decided that the cast is now filled to the brim with marginalized people? Could this possibly be yet another way for them to try to shield CR from criticism? Like, if they insist hard enough that the majority of this cast isn't straight, maybe people will stop saying mean things about them? Even if they aren’t majority straight (which I highly doubt based on all of the constant missteps), that wouldn’t change anything. Someone’s sexual orientation or gender identity doesn’t exclude them from being shitty or from making extremely shitty storytelling decisions.

“Marisha said, VERBATIM "my feelings just kind of transferred". [...] I notice that b/y shippers never talk about or acknowledge that line” Oh, some of them did at the time. But they dismissed it, like they did everything else she said. Claimed they didn’t understand what the problem was and that this kind of thing ‘happens in real-life all the time’. I’d really like to know what alternate universe they’re living in.

“b/j is what happened naturally, and b/y is what *had* to happen for corporate reasons.” And I think one of those corporate reasons was FJ. BJ happening would throw a wrench into CR’s main m/f ship, and that would be blasphemous. They couldn’t allow that. As we all know, any show’s most popular m/f pairing needs to be protected at all costs, like it’s some kind of priceless treasure. (This is why I keep comparing CR’s storytelling tactics to scripted TV. The patterns are the same.)

“many b/y shippers were (and are) happy to leap in and tell that we're mentally ill. Or call us lesbophobes. Or anti-sex. Or infantilising. Or predatory. Or TERFs. Or saying we hate Laura. Or saying we worship Laura. Or accuse us of sending death threats. Or literally just pick a bad thing out of a hat, honestly. Anything to make it so that CR hasn't done anything wrong.” This is what it’s like to become the fandom’s punching bag. But I don’t think BY’s are just doing it to protect CR, it’s also simply because we don’t agree with them. This is their retaliation for us not worshipping BY.

Here’s an old post from l/uck...

She was talking about us. Maybe her and her BY cronies should ALSO stop pretending that all queer women share a hive mind. And accept that not all queer women feel the same way about every f/f ship. Accept that not all queer women believe BY is the ROMANCE TO END ALL ROMANCES and THE BEST REP WE’VE EVER SEEN and that they shouldn’t be required to believe that in order to avoid harassment. But the BY’s don’t have enough self-awareness for that. Again, ‘rules for thee, but not for me.’

#op #ask

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kvj-novels · 4 years ago

Text

Senku x fem named!reader

Rating: this chapter is E for everyone though there is some strong language

Warnings: this fic has elements of smut and a mention of eating disorders THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT CONTAIN THE CONTENT WITH THESE WARNINGS.

Summary: Imogen has been awakened from petrification but she suffers from amnesia upon waking up. Senku and Taiju - her lover and childhood friend (respectively) before the petrification - must do their best to help her recall her past life.

Smut summary: soft sex, first time, no warnings but very NSFW.

Chapter Three

I walked deep into the forest, my feet getting cut up from the rocks and the branches. Eventually I stopped at a river and sat down in the sand. I didn’t notice how bad my feet got until I smelt blood. I looked down at my now red feet and frowned. Inching a bit closer to the shore I slid my legs into the water. It stung and I hissed when I reached down to wipe the mud and dirt off. “Damn it.” I whispered. I just let my feet float in the water and let the current wash them. I sighed and leaned back on my hands. Just my luck that the only person who knows me also holds a grudge...I laughed. How perfectly stupid. I can’t even remember how old I am and here I am already having boy troubles. I sighed and wiped my cheeks, they were still wet from crying. “Fuck it.” I said to myself. “I got woken up into a future with a brand new slate. I’m 3,700 years older than I was before. I’ll just...be a new me. Forget about trying to remember who I was then.” That was my resolve. What was the phase? New year new me? Try new millennial, new me. I think. I got up to go back to the village. My feet were swollen and burning but I needed to get back so tried to forget about the pain. I think I remember how to get back...it’s not too far. It’s still mid day, too. I just need to listen for the bustle of life and I’ll be fine. I was about half way there when I get a weird feeling on the back of my neck. I stopped and rubbed my neck. The hairs were standing on end. I shivered despite the heat. I heard a low growl come from behind me. I froze. It hit me that this was no longer modern times and that I could be in deep trouble. I slowly turned around to see a large bear a few yards behind me. She was snarling at me but not moving. I gulped. A smaller cub came out from behind her. I had a feeling I walked through her home and she wasn’t happy about it. I took a step backwards while still facing her and prayed that I didn’t look threatening enough to attack, only warn. I kept inching backwards and when she growled again I stopped for a moment. “It’s okay...I’m leaving...please don’t hurt me.” I started to move again but my foot met resistance and I stumbled backwards. Another cub yelped and jumped out from under me as I fell to my ass. The mom got on her hind legs and roared. I screamed. She started to charge and I scrambled to my feet, the adrenaline kicking in well enough to numb the swollen cuts on my feet. I ran as fast as I could but I knew in the back of my mind I wouldn’t be able to out run a bear. I screamed for help as I ran hoping without hope that I was close enough to the village for someone to hear. As I ran past a tree, a large figure came slamming into my side. I was scared the bear was super smart and was pummeling me to the ground but when I felt the warmth of human skin on my face as I was held tightly against the bare chest that rammed me to the ground, I realized instead that someone heard my cries. Both of us went tumbling, the man held me tightly as a hill took our momentum and made us tumble faster until we came to stop at a tree. His back took the blow and he grunted. My head was spinning still even as we were stopped. He picked himself up, one arm still wrapped around me. “Are you alright?” he asked, sitting on the ground. I grabbed my head to try to make it stop spinning. “Y-yeah...maybe a little cut up.” I responded when I felt a warm trickle of blood down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” He said. “that wasn’t a very clean save was it?” I finally looked up into his face to see the warm red eyes of Senku in front of me. “Senku?” “Was getting dressed when I heard you scream. You’re not too far from the lookout. Sorry, I should’ve warned you that it’s dangerous out there. The animals are used to owning the woods.” I swallowed to force my mouth closed as I stared at his chest. His slender frame deceived you when fully clothed. Senku was quite strong and very ripped. And I couldn’t help but a stare a little too long now that he had no shirt on. Senku ripped off a piece of his pants and wrapped it around my head over the cut. The pain from the pressure jolted me out of my daydream. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not very good bedside manners.” He tied off the bandage and stood. “Can you walk?” He asked. I looked down at my feet which were even more cut up than before. My legs were bleeding and my dress was almost in pieces. “Damn,” Senku said before I could respond. “I really did a number on you didn’t I?” He helped me stand and swept me up in his arms without hesitation. He seemed different now, maybe not so on edge. “I’m...sorry.” I said. “I probably shouldn’t have stormed off like that.” “Don’t be sorry...that was just me, being an idiot again.” He said, easily finding the path to the lookout and walking it back. He set me down on one of the beds that Ruri had previously mentioned was in the small building that used as a hospital. “Let me get something to clean up all your wounds.” He grabbed a bowl of hot water and a rag and sat down next to the bed. “Senku?” I asked. “Hm?” He looked up at me through his brows as he gently wiped down my legs. “Can we start again?” I asked. “What do you mean?” “I mean...I can’t remember what happened 3000 years ago...but I want to know you now, here, in this place that you seem very dedicated to. And...well I want to know you the way I did back then but I want to do it differently.” He paused for a moment to think. “Clean slate, you’re thinking?” He asked. I shook my head. He dipped the towel in the hot water again. “The past doesn’t really matter in this world does it? You’re all just trying to survive. So I shouldn’t focus on the past especially if I can’t remember it.” I said. “Well, there’s where you’re wrong.” He said. “When I broke free of the petrification, a made it my goal to advance society back to where it was and save all 7 billion people on the planet.” He paused to gently pull some debris out of a cut. “That’s a very ambitious goal...” He chuckled. “Yeah it is. And believe it or not, I’m not an idiot at science. When I got to this village it was in the Stone Age. Thanks to a lot of hard work and some very dumbed down lessons, I’ve not only gotten these people to the age of electricity, I be also helped them understand it so they can make, and explore, and do things on their own.” “So...you’re a big nerd?” A smiled. He let out a laugh and a flashed a contagious smile. “Yeah, I’m a very big nerd. I’m also the only person on the planet right now with the knowledge to bring the world back to where it was. I guess that’s why they insisted I stay the chief.” He got up when he finished cleaning my wounds and grabbed a large bowl of precut bandages. Sitting back down to wrap my feet he eyed me for a minute. I blushed. “W-what?” I asked. He smirked. “All that talk about forgetting the past...If you don’t want to remember, I won’t tell you. But remembering the past is exactly my goal. It looks a little different for you but I would be happy to tell you everything I know about you. Taiju, too.” “Who’s Taiju?” “Oof. Don’t say things like that to him, you’ll hurt the brutes feelings.” He chuckled. “The guy who was with us in the tower.” “Oh right - sorry. I knew him too?” Senku shook his head, he was suddenly very focused on the wraps, being careful as he went along. “Yeah, we actually met because of Taiju. You knew him before you knew me.” I was quiet so I could listen, I hoped he would continue when I didn’t respond. “Taiju and you go way back. We were childhood friends, I knew him since kindergarten. But you and Taiju literally grew up together. Somehow I never met you though. Not until senior year anyway.” “Senior year?” “Oh yeah, uh, the last year you have to spend at school. Once you’re senior you can graduate and either move on to college - a more focused type of school. Or you could move on to a job, life, family, whatever the hell you want honestly. After high school, you’re considered an adult so people let you do whatever, you know?” He finished with my feet then moved to the head of the bed to work on the cut on my head. “Anyway, Taiju introduced us at the end of junior year and we hung out a lot all the next year. I don’t know if that dumb brute was trying to set us up from the beginning but he was really smart about it; just a casual introduction and then bam, you were hanging out in our group all the time.” I flinched when he put the hot rag to my head. “Sorry,” he pulled back. “No it’s okay.” I looked up at him. “Please, keep going.” He continued cleaning my head and then cleared his throat. “Just before summer break I asked you out on a date. I hung out with you more that summer than I did with Taiju. He didn’t seem to mind though since he had his own love life he was going on and on about.” He chuckled. “How was it? The date I mean.” “We were both nervous as hell. I took you to a walk through tour of one of the biggest science labs in Japan.” He laughed. “Looking back on it now it probably wasn’t the greatest of first date ideas, but you didn’t seem to mind.” I smiled. “What else happened that year?” “Well, summer was over and we had to go back to school.” He paused for a moment to tape a small bandage to the side of my head. I sat up fully when he finished, carefully bringing my bandaged legs under me. He sat on the bed next to me. “I told you I couldn’t make things official yet...I was too focused on my school and I was trying to figure out where I wanted to go after graduation.” He sighed and rubbed his neck. “That was my first mistake. You understood but I could tell it was bothering you a bit. I psyched myself out because I was overthinking it. If you can’t already tell, I’m very much an idiot at matters of the heart.” I bit my lip. “Is that...when we argued and I got mad?” He shook his head. “I said a lot of thing I really regret. I blamed you as a distraction and I tried to push you away. I hate to admit it, but I was scared. I wanted so badly to not mess things up with you that I fucked up and messed things up anyway.” He let out a deep sigh. “Our last conversation was an argument. I said I cared more about science than I cared about you. You promptly slapped me across the face and said you’d save me some trouble and would never have to talk to me again.” I frowned. He continued, “I don’t think any harsh word ever spoken to me has hurt more than that. And it was my own fault.” I swallowed. I felt a lump in my chest that made me want to throw my arms around him and tell him I’m sorry. But the mental block of complete emptiness and detachment from not truly remembering this man in front of me, stopped me. I looked down at my hands. “We didn’t have a lot of time together then huh?” I asked. “No...I didn’t see you for a whole week and then the petrification happened.” “I uh...I still can’t remember any of it. Even though you’ve told me the majority of it.” I forced down the lump in my throat and tried not to cry again. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I felt empty. Hearing that story makes me really happy but...it’s like it’s literally just a story. I can’t picture any of it.” “It’ll take time. Amnesia can only be cured by the patients willingness to remember the parts they’ve lost. The fact that you can’t remember what school is tells me that more was happening than just a little bit of love life drama. Whatever it was caused you to block out not just me, but physically every single part of school.” “How do I find out what that was?” “I would suggest you find Taiju. Like I said, you guys grew up together. I think you lived in Taiju’s house. I never got around to asking what happened with your family, so I can only assume that he’s the one who can tell you that part of yourself. I can go find him for you if you like?” “Not right now please...if it’s not too much trouble, I’d really like to stay and keep talking with you.” He smiled a bit. “I’ll go get us some dinner then. Meet me up in the tower, take your time.” He got up and left the small building, headed for the village. I thought about the story he just told me and smiled. Butterflies erupted in my stomach again. I felt like that was proof to myself, a bit. Proof that Senku and I had something together. Proof that I...

Well, I probably shouldn’t get too caught up on that feeling.

********

Tag list @viskafrer @bee-cakes @potatochic2003 @gxldenhunny @cheesey-fox @guijh103 Please DM me if you would like to be added to the tag list!

#ishigami senku #senk x fem #dr stone #dr stone fanfic #fanfic #taiju oki #senku x reader #one shots

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nellygwyn · 4 years ago

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BOOK RECS

Okay, so lots of people wanted this and so, I am compiling a list of my favourite books (both fiction and non-fiction), books that I recommend you read as soon as humanly possible. In the meantime, I’ll be pinning this post to the top of my blog (once I work out how to do that lmao) so it will be accessible for old and new followers. I’m going to order this list thematically, I think, just to keep everything tidy and orderly. Of course, a lot of this list will consist of historical fiction and historical non-fiction because that’s what I read primarily and thus, that’s where my bias is, but I promise to try and spice it up just a little bit.

Favourite fiction books of all time:

The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock // Imogen Hermes Gowar

Sense and Sensibility // Jane Austen

Slammerkin // Emma Donoghue

Remarkable Creatures // Tracy Chevalier

Life Mask // Emma Donoghue

His Dark Materials // Philip Pullman (this includes the follow-up series The Book of Dust)

Emma // Jane Austen

The Miniaturist // Jessie Burton

Girl, Woman, Other // Bernadine Evaristo

Jane Eyre // Charlotte Brontë

Persuasion // Jane Austen

Girl with a Pearl Earring // Tracy Chevalier

The Silent Companions // Laura Purcell

Tess of the d’Urbervilles // Thomas Hardy

Northanger Abbey // Jane Austen

The Chronicles of Narnia // C.S. Lewis

Pride and Prejudice // Jane Austen

Goodnight, Mr Tom // Michelle Magorian

The French Lieutenant’s Woman // John Fowles

The Butcher’s Hook // Janet Ellis

Mansfield Park // Jane Austen

The All Souls Trilogy // Deborah Harkness

The Railway Children // Edith Nesbit

Favourite non-fiction books of all time

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman // Robert Massie

Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King // Antonia Fraser

Madame de Pompadour // Nancy Mitford

The First Iron Lady: A Life of Caroline of Ansbach // Matthew Dennison

Black and British: A Forgotten History // David Olusoga

Courtiers: The Secret History of the Georgian Court // Lucy Worsley

Young and Damned and Fair: The Life of Katherine Howard, the Fifth Wife of Henry VIII // Gareth Russell

King Charles II // Antonia Fraser

Casanova’s Women // Judith Summers

Marie Antoinette: The Journey // Antonia Fraser

Mrs. Jordan’s Profession: The Story of a Great Actress and a Future King // Claire Tomalin

Jane Austen at Home // Lucy Worsley

Mudlarking: Lost and Found on the River Thames // Lara Maiklem

The Last Royal Rebel: The Life and Death of James, Duke of Monmouth // Anna Keay

The Marlboroughs: John and Sarah Churchill // Christopher Hibbert

Nell Gwynn: A Biography // Charles Beauclerk

Jurassic Mary: Mary Anning and the Primeval Monsters // Patricia Pierce

Georgian London: Into the Streets // Lucy Inglis

The Prince Who Would Be King: The Life and Death of Henry Stuart // Sarah Fraser

Wedlock: How Georgian Britain’s Worst Husband Met His Match // Wendy Moore

Dead Famous: An Unexpected History of Celebrity from the Stone Age to the Silver Screen // Greg Jenner

Victorians Undone: Tales of the Flesh in the Age of Decorum // Kathryn Hughes

Crown of Blood: The Deadly Inheritance of Lady Jane Grey // Nicola Tallis

Favourite books about the history of sex and/or sex work

The Origins of Sex: A History of First Sexual Revolution // Faramerz Dabhoiwala

Erotic Exchanges: The World of Elite Prostitution in Eighteenth-Century Paris // Nina Kushner

Peg Plunkett: Memoirs of a Whore // Julie Peakman

Courtesans // Katie Hickman

The Other Victorians: A Study of Sexuality and Pornography in mid-Nineteenth Century England

Madams, Bawds, and Brothel Keepers // Fergus Linnane

The Secret History of Georgian London: How the Wages of Sin Shaped the Capital // Dan Cruickshank

A Curious History of Sex // Kate Lister

Sex and Punishment: 4000 Years of Judging Desire // Eric Berkowitz

Queen of the Courtesans: Fanny Murray // Barbara White

Rent Boys: A History from Ancient Times to Present // Michael Hone

Celeste // Roland Perry

Sex and the Gender Revolution // Randolph Trumbach

The Pleasure’s All Mine: A History of Perverse Sex // Julie Peakman

LGBT+ fiction I love*

The Confessions of the Fox // Jordy Rosenberg

As Meat Loves Salt // Maria Mccann

Bone China // Laura Purcell

Brideshead Revisited // Evelyn Waugh

The Confessions of Frannie Langton // Sara Collins

The Intoxicating Mr Lavelle // Neil Blackmore

Orlando // Virginia Woolf

Tipping the Velvet // Sarah Waters

She Rises // Kate Worsley

The Mercies // Kiran Millwood Hargrave

Oranges are Not the Only Fruit // Jeanette Winterson

Maurice // E.M Forster

Frankisstein: A Love Story // Jeanette Winterson

If I Was Your Girl // Meredith Russo

The Well of Loneliness // Radclyffe Hall

* fyi, Life Mask and Girl, Woman, Other are also LGBT+ fiction

Classics I haven’t already mentioned (including children’s classics)

Far From the Madding Crowd // Thomas Hardy

I Capture the Castle // Dodie Smith

Vanity Fair // William Makepeace Thackeray

Wuthering Heights // Emily Brontë

The Blazing World // Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle

Murder on the Orient Express // Agatha Christie

Great Expectations // Charles Dickens

North and South // Elizabeth Gaskell

Evelina // Frances Burney

Death on the Nile // Agatha Christie

The Monk // Matthew Lewis

Frankenstein // Mary Shelley

Vilette // Charlotte Brontë

The Mayor of Casterbridge // Thomas Hardy

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall // Anne Brontë

Vile Bodies // Evelyn Waugh

Beloved // Toni Morrison

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd // Agatha Christie

The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling // Henry Fielding

A Room With a View // E.M. Forster

Silas Marner // George Eliot

Jude the Obscure // Thomas Hardy

My Man Jeeves // P.G. Wodehouse

Lady Audley’s Secret // Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Middlemarch // George Eliot

Little Women // Louisa May Alcott

Children of the New Forest // Frederick Marryat

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings // Maya Angelou

Rebecca // Daphne du Maurier

Alice in Wonderland // Lewis Carroll

The Wind in the Willows // Kenneth Grahame

Anna Karenina // Leo Tolstoy

Howard’s End // E.M. Forster

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4 // Sue Townsend

Even more fiction recommendations

The Darling Strumpet // Gillian Bagwell

The Wolf Hall trilogy // Hilary Mantel

The Illumination of Ursula Flight // Anne-Marie Crowhurst

Queenie // Candace Carty-Williams

Forever Amber // Kathleen Winsor

The Corset // Laura Purcell

Love in Colour // Bolu Babalola

Artemisia // Alexandra Lapierre

Blackberry and Wild Rose // Sonia Velton

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories // Angela Carter

The Languedoc trilogy // Kate Mosse

Longbourn // Jo Baker

A Skinful of Shadows // Frances Hardinge

The Black Moth // Georgette Heyer

The Far Pavilions // M.M Kaye

The Essex Serpent // Sarah Perry

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo // Taylor Jenkins Reid

Cavalier Queen // Fiona Mountain

The Winter Palace // Eva Stachniak

Friday’s Child // Georgette Heyer

Falling Angels // Tracy Chevalier

Little // Edward Carey

Chocolat // Joanne Harris

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street // Natasha Pulley

My Sister, the Serial Killer // Oyinkan Braithwaite

The Convenient Marriage // Georgette Heyer

Katie Mulholland // Catherine Cookson

Restoration // Rose Tremain

Meat Market // Juno Dawson

Lady on the Coin // Margaret Campbell Bowes

In the Company of the Courtesan // Sarah Dunant

The Crimson Petal and the White // Michel Faber

A Place of Greater Safety // Hilary Mantel

The Little Shop of Found Things // Paula Brackston

The Improbability of Love // Hannah Rothschild

The Murder Most Unladylike series // Robin Stevens

Dark Angels // Karleen Koen

The Words in My Hand // Guinevere Glasfurd

Time’s Convert // Deborah Harkness

The Collector // John Fowles

Vivaldi’s Virgins // Barbara Quick

The Foundling // Stacey Halls

The Phantom Tree // Nicola Cornick

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle // Stuart Turton

Golden Hill // Francis Spufford

Assorted non-fiction not yet mentioned

The Dinosaur Hunters: A True Story of Scientific Rivalry and the Discovery of the Prehistoric World // Deborah Cadbury

The Beauty and the Terror: An Alternative History to the Italian Renaissance // Catherine Fletcher

All the King's Women: Love, Sex, and Politics in the life of Charles II // Derek Jackson

Mozart’s Women // Jane Glover

Scandalous Liaisons: Charles II and His Court // R.E. Pritchard

Matilda: Queen, Empress, Warrior // Catherine Hanley

Black Tudors // Miranda Kaufman

To Catch a King: Charles II's Great Escape // Charles Spencer

1666: Plague, War and Hellfire // Rebecca Rideal

Henrietta Maria: Charles I's Indomitable Queen // Alison Plowden

Catherine of Braganza: Charles II's Restoration Queen // Sarah-Beth Watkins

Four Sisters: The Lost Lives of the Romanov Grand Duchesses // Helen Rappaport

Aristocrats: Caroline, Emily, Louisa and Sarah Lennox, 1740-1832 // Stella Tillyard

The Fortunes of Francis Barber: The True Story of the Jamaican Slave who Became Samuel Johnson’s Heir // Michael Bundock

Black London: Life Before Emancipation // Gretchen Gerzina

In These Times: Living in Britain Through Napoleon’s Wars, 1793-1815

The King’s Mistress: Scandal, Intrigue and the True Story of the Woman who Stole the Heart of George I // Claudia Gold

Perdita: The Life of Mary Robinson // Paula Byrne

The Gentleman’s Daughter: Women’s Lives in Georgian England // Amanda Vickery

Terms and Conditions: Life in Girls’ Boarding School, 1939-1979 // Ysenda Maxtone Graham

Fanny Burney: A Biography // Claire Harman

Aphra Behn: A Secret Life // Janet Todd

The Imperial Harem: Women and the Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire // Leslie Peirce

The Fall of the House of Byron // Emily Brand

The Favourite: Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough // Ophelia Field

Night-Walking: A Nocturnal History of London // Matthew Beaumont, Will Self

Jane Austen: A Life // Claire Tomalin

Beloved Emma: The Life of Emma, Lady Hamilton // Flora Fraser

Sentimental Murder: Love and Madness in the 18th Century // John Brewer

Henrietta Howard: King’s Mistress, Queen’s Servant // Tracy Borman

City of Beasts: How Animals Shaped Georgian London // Tom Almeroth-Williams

Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion // Anne Somerset

Charlotte Brontë: A Life // Claire Harman

Goddess: The Secret Lives of Marilyn Monroe // Anthony Summers

Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day // Peter Ackroyd

Elizabeth I and Her Circle // Susan Doran

African Europeans: An Untold History // Olivette Otele

Young Romantics: The Shelleys, Byron, and Other Tangled Lives // Daisy Hay

How to Create the Perfect Wife // Wendy Moore

The Sphinx: The Life of Gladys Deacon, Duchess of Marlborough // Hugo Vickers

The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn // Eric Ives

Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy // Barbara Ehrenreich

A is for Arsenic: The Poisons of Agatha Christie // Kathryn Harkup

Mistresses: Sex and Scandal at the Court of Charles II // Linda Porter

Female Husbands: A Trans History // Jen Manion

Ladies in Waiting: From the Tudors to the Present Day // Anne Somerset

Ghostland: In Search of a Haunted Country // Edward Parnell

A Cheesemonger’s History of the British Isles // Ned Palmer

The Butchering Art: Joseph Lister’s Quest to Transform the Grisly World of Victorian Medicine // Lindsey Fitzharris

Medieval Woman: Village Life in the Middle Ages // Ann Baer

The Husband Hunters: Social Climbing in London and New York // Anne de Courcy

The Voices of Nîmes: Women, Sex, and Marriage in Reformation Languedoc // Suzannah Lipscomb

The Daughters of the Winter Queen // Nancy Goldstone

Mad and Bad: Real Heroines of the Regency // Bea Koch

Bess of Hardwick // Mary S. Lovell

The Royal Art of Poison // Eleanor Herman

The Strangest Family: The Private Lives of George III, Queen Charlotte, and the Hanoverians // Janice Hadlow

Palaces of Pleasure: From Music Halls to the Seaside to Football; How the Victorians Invented Mass Entertainment // Lee Jackson

Favourite books about current social/political issues (?? for lack of a better term)

Feminism, Interrupted: Disrupting Power // Lola Olufemi

Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Worker Rights // Molly Smith, Juno Mac

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race // Reni Eddo-Lodge

Trans Britain: Our Journey from the Shadows // Christine Burns

Me, Not You: The Trouble with Mainstream Feminism // Alison Phipps

Trans Like Me: A Journey For All Of Us // C.N Lester

Brit(Ish): On Race, Identity, and Belonging // Afua Hirsch

The Brutish Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence, and Cultural Restitution // Dan Hicks

Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls: A Handbook for Unapologetic Living // Jes M. Baker

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women White Feminists Forgot // Mikki Kendall

Denial: Holocaust History on Trial // Deborah Lipstadt

Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape // Jessica Valenti, Jaclyn Friedman

Don’t Touch My Hair // Emma Dabiri

Sister Outsider // Audre Lorde

Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen // Amrou Al-Kadhi

Trans Power // Juno Roche

Breathe: A Letter to My Sons // Imani Perry

The Windrush Betrayal: Exposing the Hostile Environment // Amelia Gentleman

Happy Fat: Taking Up Space in a World That Wants to Shrink You // Sofie Hagen

Diaries, memoirs & letters

The Diary of a Young Girl // Anne Frank

Renia’s Diary: A Young Girl’s Life in the Shadow of the Holocaust // Renia Spiegel

Writing Home // Alan Bennett

The Diary of Samuel Pepys // Samuel Pepys

Histoire de Ma Vie // Giacomo Casanova

Toast: The Story of a Boy’s Hunger // Nigel Slater

London Journal, 1762-1763 // James Boswell

The Diary of a Bookseller // Shaun Blythell

Jane Austen’s Letters // edited by Deidre la Faye

H is for Hawk // Helen Mcdonald

The Salt Path // Raynor Winn

The Glitter and the Gold // Consuelo Vanderbilt, Duchess of Marlborough

Journals and Letters // Fanny Burney

Educated // Tara Westover

Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading // Lucy Mangan

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? // Jeanette Winterson

A Dutiful Boy // Mohsin Zaidi

Secrets and Lies: The Trials of Christine Keeler // Christine Keeler

800 Years of Women’s Letters // edited by Olga Kenyon

Istanbul // Orhan Pamuk

Henry and June // Anaïs Nin

Historical romance (this is a short list because I’m still fairly new to this genre)

The Bridgerton series // Julia Quinn

One Good Earl Deserves a Lover // Sarah Mclean

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake // Sarah Mclean

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics // Olivia Waite

That Could Be Enough // Alyssa Cole

Unveiled // Courtney Milan

The Craft of Love // EE Ottoman

The Maiden Lane series // Elizabeth Hoyt

An Extraordinary Union // Alyssa Cole

Slightly Dangerous // Mary Balogh

Dangerous Alliance: An Austentacious Romance // Jennieke Cohen

A Fashionable Indulgence // KJ Charles

#the only categories not on here are plays and poetry #just bc this post would be even longer!#you can ask me for my favourite playwrights/poets separately tho

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago

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Falling Again

Summary: Life is cruel, but the mind is crueler. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 5.2K Warnings: Angst. Loads of tears. I apologize in advance. A/N: @luna-aestas requested angst in the same vein as the Welcome Home series, along with some unrequited love. What’s worse than unrequited love? Assuming it’s unrequited. This will probably end up being another series. You’ve been warned.

Everyone told him that the pain would pass with time. That with each day, the wound would scar over and the dull ache in his chest would go away, that things like work and social events would be less awkward, and that even alone time would normalize again.

They were all wrong.

The truth was that it had been five years, and he still felt the pain like a red-hot poker searing through his heart each time he woke to live another day.

The knocking on the door was never loud enough to hide the sound of her sniffles, and though sleep always threatened to drag him back under, it was her soft voice that always made him sit up.

“Papa? I had a nightmare.” Her voice, tear-filled and scared, always broke his heart, and though there were days when he needed an extra moment to hide his own tears, he never denied his daughter entrance.

“Come in, sweetie,” Henry called, barely getting the words out before he heard the knob turning. He watched as she padded in, taking extra care to close the door behind her. With her otter plushie tucked under her arm, she tiptoed to the bed, looking up at her father, fresh tears tracks painting her ruddy cheeks.

“What did you dream about, pumpkin?” He asked, his voice as soft as his daughter’s as he picked her up and lifted her into what had--over time--become her spot. He was shocked when the mere question had her whimpering, her little arms finding his neck and holding on tight as she cried into his shoulder. His face broke into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking any time his daughter cried so earnestly.

"We were at the park and I got l-lost! I ran the wh-whole park and f-finally found you, but-but you were a-asleep and wou-wouldn't wake up! J-just like g-grams!" She keened, his shirt soaked with her tears as she shook like a leaf in his arms.

Cradling her head against his chest, Henry smoothed down her hair over and over, his own eyes filling with unshed tears as he realized, in that moment, how much his mother-in-law’s death had affected his little girl. His mother-in-law had been far too young to go, but had lived long enough to become attached at the hip with his daughter. Her death hadn't come as a surprise to either of them, but holding her now, he could tell that his daughter hadn't been given a fair shake at grieving.

He'd taken her to the funeral, not because he thought it was the right thing to do, but because he had no other choice. Babysitters were exorbitant luxuries in NYC, and everyone he knew was either going to be in attendance, or tied up with work. Technically, he couldn't even afford the day off for the funeral, but his boss was self-servingly magnanimous and had paid him time and a half, knowing full well it would put Henry in his pocket for another year. She'd been quiet as a mouse during the ceremony, the eulogies, and the procession to view the body (which he'd left her in her seat for). Even the ride home, he realized, had been a silent one, and for all the grieving he'd done when he thought she wasn't looking, Henry had never seen his daughter so much as throw a tantrum to try and express herself.

Now, holding her as she wailed softly, her grip on him a vice that wouldn't release until she slept, Henry realized that the nightmares she'd been having were her mind's way of processing what had happened, and that, like her father, she was afraid of losing everyone she loved.

Kissing her forehead, Henry tried to think of a way to make her understand that he wasn't going to die the way her grandmother, and her mother both had, but he knew his daughter well enough to know that promising he'd live to a ripe old age wouldn't cut it.

"That sounds like a scary dream, pumpkin, but papa's not going anywhere, okay? Grams was very sick, the kind of sick that only really happens to people that are much, much, older than Papa. Grams was sick for a long, long, time. Ever since you were a baby. Papa just went to the doctor and he said I was in perfect health. I don't want you to worry about Papa falling asleep and not waking up, okay? I’m going to be around for a long, long time. Might even be around when you've got white hair and wrinkles everywhere, okay? Papa works out and eats healthy every day so that I can be around as long as possible. So don't worry, alright? I’m not going anywhere."

Sophia sniffled and whimpered a little more, but finally nodded, understanding what he was saying, even if she didn't 100% believe it quite yet. "I love you, papa," she whispered, giving him a squeeze. He kissed her temple and nodded. "I love you too, sweetheart. More than you'll ever know."

"I won't worry about it unless you go bald like grams or mama," she whispered, the decision one that made her content and relaxed in his arms, Sophia never to know just how much the simple reasoning shattered her father's heart.

Henry waited until she was completely asleep to tip his head up to the ceiling, his own tears silent and desperate as he clung to what little family had left.

There was very little he paid attention to at work aside from work itself. He couldn’t afford distraction; medical bills, funerary costs, utilities, rent, and groceries all required money, and working an entry-level job was barely cutting it, even with mandatory overtime. Still, there was one distraction he couldn’t seem to shake, despite the guilt that came over him each time he realized it was happening again.

His distraction had a name and a devastating smile much like his wife’s. In fact, there was a lot about Zoe that reminded him of his Izzy. At first glance it was hard to see, given the differences in eye color, nose and face shape, but there was something about her mannerisms, her energy, and her kindness that evoked the love of his life. Henry couldn’t help but watch her whenever she came to speak to one of their colleagues, and at lunch they exchanged polite conversation. That was the extent of it, though. Henry knew that a woman like Zoe, a woman who radiated such brightness and joy, would never be with a man like him, a hulled husk ready to be crumbled into dust at any given moment.

There were days however, where even Zoe’s brand of sunshine couldn’t break the storm clouds that seemed to follow Henry wherever he went, days where the world crushed him just that little bit further. As Henry took a seat at his desk, he knew today would be one of those days, if his morning had been any indication.

He had cried himself to sleep, if the heaviness of his eyes was anything to go by, but as the sun crept through the crooked blinds of his bedroom, Henry remembered the events of the night before, and in peeking down, found Sophia pretending to be asleep.

"Rise and shine, pumpkin, it's time for school," he murmured, peppering her face with gentle kisses, Henry angling his head before blowing a small raspberry on the top of her arm.

"Papa, I don't feel good," she said as she swatted his face away, her eyes staying closed--Henry's first indication that she was faking it.

"You don't feel good? Well, let's see," he kept his tone soft and neutral, both of them knowing this game all too well, both intent on playing it anyway. The back of his hand pressed to her forehead before he scooted down to press his ear to her tummy. Coming back up, Henry gave her a half-shrug. "You don't have a fever, and your tummy’s not rumbling...Is it the kind of 'not feeling good' where you just want to stay home?" Fixing her with a soft, 'tell the truth' gaze, Henry waited for her answer.

"I don't wanna go to school. Wanna stay home with you."

"But papa's not staying home, I have to go to work, sweetheart," he tried to reason with her, Henry surprised when, for the second time in less than 24 hours, Sophia’s lower lip started to quiver.

"But I want you to stay home! You're always so tired and so sad, papa! Want you to stay home so we can nap and have tea, and so you can be happy!"

Sophia's reasoning hit him like a truck at an intersection, Henry feeling his heart stop for a few beats while he tried to process what she'd just said. He'd thought he'd always been careful to smile and be upbeat around her, but obviously his little one had the gift of stealth and had caught him in private moments, when he thought she wasn't looking.

"What makes you think Papa's not happy?" he asked, trying to keep his face neutral and his eyes from watering.

"I hear you crying every day, papa! And when you talk to Uncle Dom, you always say about how you're worried about money, and about how bills are piling up. At night, you say mama’s name over and over, like you're having a bad dream."

Tears spilled over as he listened to his six year old be so observant, so astute, and so heartbreakingly no nonsense in her reasoning. Chin falling to his chest, he only managed to hold back his sobs, crying as quietly as he could, because, as seemed to be the case whenever she really watched something and made up her mind about it, Soph was right.

The shrill ring of his cell phone cut through the otherwise-quiet moment, and Henry answered it without looking, not realizing that it was his sister-in-law, Imogen on the other end.

"H-Hello?" he stammered, the grief clearly heard in his voice, even through the shortest word possible.

"Henry? Darling, is everything alright? Nevermind all that, I’ll be over in a jiff."

Wiping his eyes, Henry sighed heavily, getting up to unlock the door to his ramshackle apartment, knowing Gen would be there in less than five. Though it was nice having her and her husband, Dom so close, there were times when Henry wished they lived just a little further up town. Henry hadn't been expecting the hug, but the moment Gen was through the door and her arms were around him, it was all he could do to keep from sobbing.

“Are you certain you’re okay to go into work like this?” Gen asked softly, feeling a sense of dejavu come over her. It was a conversation they’d had often enough, both before and after her sister’s death, and it had yet to end differently. Shoulders shaking, Henry nodded, the words that followed being the opposite of what anyone wanted to hear.

"I d-don't have a choice," he whispered, knowing full well that any slip-up would cost him his job, and that being without income, even for a few days, would spell disaster for his and Sophia's lives.

"Aunt Gen, make him stay home and sleep!" Soph said quietly with urgency in her voice, the little girl knowing how frayed her father was, even if he fought it tooth and nail.

"Soph, sweetheart, Papa has to go to work. It's not like school, I can't miss a day just because I don't feel like coming in," he did his best to explain it to her gently, Henry crouching down, arms outstretched for her.

Reluctantly, she came, and Henry wrapped her up tight, kissing her head over and over. "You're going to have the best time with Aunt Gen. You always do. You'll go shopping and have lunch at her place, or maybe even help her and Aunt Beth make a cake! Or you two could go to the pool, or maybe even go see Uncle Dom at the bookstore. You're going to have loads of fun and before you know it, papa will be there to pick you up."

Though he managed to keep his voice steady, Henry's free hand covered his eyes, the age-old shame he felt as a father who couldn't provide everything his daughter needed and wanted coming back the second he realized he couldn't even give her spending money for anything.

Wiping his eyes hard, he pulled back and fixed his daughter with a beaming smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I want you to tell me all about the fun you had today once we get home, okay? Now, go on, you're wasting time hanging around here with your old gaffer, when you could be having pancakes for breakfast with your favorite auntie."

He winked, Henry’s smile growing just a little more when Soph's eyes lit up. It was rare she got more than a bowl of oatmeal in the morning, as groceries tended to be kept to the cheapest items that provided the most nutritional value possible. If the military had taught him anything, it was how to stretch food, and he did it without even thinking sometimes; without taking into account that a treat here and there would be good for his little girl.

Standing, he went for his wallet, eyes on the floor, jaw clenched, and face burning red with shame as he handed Gen a five, giving up what he'd budgeted for lunch for the week, wanting his daughter to at least have something on her day out with her aunt.

Henry turned immediately so that Gen didn't have the chance to put it back in his hand, moving across the room to grab his phone and call in to Sophia's school, not wanting to get the call later at work, where he wouldn't be able to answer it.

"Hi, Mary, yes, this is Sophia’s father, Henry. Soph's not going to be coming in today. She's feeling rather poorly, so I'm going to keep her home. Okay, thank you. Have a great day," he spoke softly, making silly faces at Soph while talking, grateful to get a silent laugh from her, his daughter knowing better than to jeopardize her day off by giggling loud enough to be heard by the school secretary.

"All right, pumpkin, come ‘ere. You have fun and listen to your auntie okay? No running off, no being a silly monkey in a crowded place. I love you, have fun, and I'll see you tonight," Henry said softly as he hugged Sophia tight, holding on just a little longer than usual and wishing for all the world he could call in.

“You always have a choice,” Gen reminded him, her face holding sympathy for the man who’d single-handedly been responsible for her sister’s happiness, especially in the last few months of her life. “You should stay for dinner. Dom’s making his famous Kitchen Sink Pasta,” she added after a moment, noticing the sallowness of Henry’s skin, how the hollows of his cheeks were becoming more pronounced.

To Gen, Henry and Izzy would forever be soulmates, an insurmountably perfect couple, but her sister’s request that he find someone new after her passing weighed heavier and heavier on Gen’s mind with every passing year. If Heaven did exist, Imogen imagined her sister was tearing her hair out with impatience, or sobbing without end at seeing how life had panned out for her husband after her parting.

"Easy for you to say," Henry murmured, giving Gen a kind smile, not needing to remind her that her situation was far different than his, given her huge family, and the fact that she ran her own business. The more Gen looked at him with sympathy, the more shame he felt, and while he knew she was only trying to do right by him, it only made him feel worse about his circumstances.

"Don't count on me for dinner. Dom's been picking up Soph for a reason. I probably won’t make it out of there until at least nine," he spoke softly and between his teeth, wanting to make it as garbled as possible so that Sophia wouldn't be upset. One look in her eyes however, and Henry knew his daughter had understood every word.

"You two have fun. I'll see you ladies later," Henry smiled, seeing them to the door and watching until they'd disappeared down the stairs before closing and sliding down against the frame, his tears free to fall in privacy.

Connected to her father by an invisible thread that latched her heart to his, Sophia forced Gen to stop midway down the stairs, her ears perked, head tilted towards the general direction of her home.

"Papa's crying again," she stated plainly, her own chin falling to her chest, the softest, saddest little sigh escaping her. "He hasn't been happy in a very, very long time. Wish I could fix him. Wish I could make him stay home, aunt Gen. The only reason I wanted to stay home was to stay with him."

Sniffling, she wiped her eyes, looking up at her aunt with questioning eyes. "Do you think it would be easier for papa if I gave him all the money in my piggy bank? Would he be able to stay home and sleep then? Is there a way that we can make the bills stop coming? Stop them from making papa so worried and sad?"

Gen did her best to keep her face neutral as bent down to hug Sophia tightly, feeling the waves of anguish roll off her. Her heart broke for her niece, knowing the little girl was as empathetic as her father, and that at her age, emotions were always felt more deeply.

“Tell you what, why don’t we go back in there and see if we can’t convince your father to stow away with us one more time? I think he could do with some pancakes as well, don’t you?” Knowing she was pushing her luck, but also knowing Sophia would spend the day withdrawn if she didn’t try, Gen opened the door, hoping once, just once, Henry would say yes.

“So Soph and I decided that you don’t have a choice. You’re coming with us today, for pancakes and books and cake, alright?”

He’d had just enough time to wipe his eyes and stand up by the time the door opened and Sophia ran to him full tilt, hugging him as tight as she could manage for such a little girl.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up at Gen in concern before her words clicked everything into place. Though he kept a smile on for Sophia, he couldn’t stop from fixing Gen with a look.

"Girls, much as I'd like to join you, I have to go to work. Like I said, pumpkin, I can't just skip a day because I feel like it. Papa's has to go to work." Henry was tender with his daughter, never once wanting to be the one that made her upset, but also needing her to understand that his world didn't work as easily as her's did.

"Give papa just a second to have a word with Aunt Gen, alright? Then you two can get to those pancakes," he nodded, pressing a kiss to each cheek and giving Sophia a squeeze, before motioning for Gen to follow him into his bedroom.

With the door closed and locked behind them, Henry ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really do. But I can't skip work, or I'll lose my job. Furthermore, Gen, if I miss a day, I literally can't make rent or groceries this month. I cannot skip today, especially when I’m being paid overtime. I'm sorry, I r-really am, and believe me, this is k-killing me, okay? But I c-can't. So please, don't get her h-hopes up like that. It's not fair--"

Turning his back to Gen, he curled in on himself until he was crouching down, hands covering his head as though it were a bomb drill. Using his forearms to muffle the whimpers, he stayed down there until he felt his composure return. Wiping his eyes with the same ferocity he always did whenever he knew someone had seen him crying, Henry stood up and gave her a gentle smile.

"Please make it a day she'll never forget, okay? Do that for me? Please?"

It wasn't lost on him, in that moment of vulnerability, that he'd yet been able to make it to any of his daughter's events during her first year in kindergarten. None of the little parties, show-and-tells, or anything of that nature had seen him in attendance, but instead, had been graciously covered--and recorded for later viewing--by Dom, who had been mistaken for Sophia's father more than once.

Wracked with guilt and shame over his failings as a parent, Henry looked down at the floor, destroyed through and through. There were a lot of things missing from his life that most took for granted; a couch, Netflix, sometimes electricity. But it was the intangible things that ate him up and made him feel like true scum. Missing Sophia’s events, not picking her up from school every day, and often being too tired to do more than what was absolutely necessary for her when he finally came home, were all things that caused him deep shame and often-sleepless nights.

He waited for Gen to give up, to say she understood, and to leave in order to hopefully give his beloved daughter a day she'd not soon forget, Henry knowing that today, no matter how easy the calls turned out to be, would be hell.

"You were supposed to be here by six, Cavill!!"

Henry's head snapped up when he heard his boss' voice booming down the hall.

"I'm scheduled to start at nine, sir," he replied, trying to maintain his cool as he fumbled with trying to pull his schedule from his desk drawers while putting himself in a code so that calls wouldn’t come in automatically. He was certain his schedule was right and that he hadn’t switched with anyone.

Even as he tore through his papers, a write up sheet was laid on his desk, Henry finding the printout before turning and looking up at Jerry, utterly confused and more than a little appalled.

"You were supposed to start at six, you showed up at nine. You're late, so I'm docking your pay." Henry's eyes hardened as he held up the sheet of paper, handing it to Jerry.

"I was scheduled for nine. I logged in at 8:58 am."

"I wanted you here for six, I told you on Friday. Sign the form and get back on the phones."

Henry tried to wrack his brains for any important conversations he'd had with his boss, anything that could help him defend himself, but nothing came. Friday had been as ordinary as any other day.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Henry signed the paper, knowing full well he was giving away half his paycheck and with it, any chance at getting rent paid on time.

Sick to his stomach, he looked at the clock, then at the picture of Sophia he kept tucked in the back of his cubicle. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. Should've just stayed home today," he murmured, wiping at his eyes to keep fresh tears at bay.

By lunch time, Henry was beginning to feel light-headed with hunger. Knowing he’d given his lunch budget to Gen, he settled for a black coffee and took his usual seat, intent on shutting out the world, if only for a few minutes.

“Uh oh, *someone’s had a rough morning,” Zoe grinned as she came in, setting her lunch bag down on the counter before putting the container inside into the microwave to heat. Moving over to where Henry sat slumped over, she rubbed his shoulders gently, surprised when she felt nothing but tension beneath her fingers.

“Everything okay? I heard Jerry muttering in his office all morning about you being late, which I found unusual, given you were here on time.”

“According to him, I should have been here at six. I think he has it out for me, or is planning on letting me go,” Henry answered, finally lifting up his head to look at Zoe. He wasn’t surprised when she gave him a double-take; he knew he looked like roadkill, her expression simply confirmed it.

“Have you been sleeping alright? You look like you could use at least 24 hours’ worth,” She commented softly, Henry scrubbing a hand over his face before taking a sip of his coffee.

“No rest for the wicked, isn’t that the saying? Soph hasn’t been sleeping all that well, so I wake whenever she has a nightmare.” Though it wasn’t the full truth, it wasn’t an outright lie. Henry simply omitted the parts he knew no one at work would care about.

Zoe grimaced in sympathy, getting up and fetching her food before sitting down across from him. Whatever was in the container smelled wonderful, and were it not for the coffee boring a hole in his gut, it would have been pure torture.

“I bet she sleeps snug as a bug in a rug once she’s been comforted though, huh?” Zoe grinned, taking a bite of sauce-covered ravioli with impeccable manners. Like him, Imogen’s family, and Dom, Zoe was a British expat, having come to NYC to fulfill a career in fashion, but having had her dreams detoured instead. Unlike the rest of them, Henry had landed on his ass in the Big Apple, with all his prospects falling through within the first year of him being in the country. He managed to stay afloat until his paperwork was in place, but no matter how often he applied to jobs in his field, nothing ever came through. Then Izzy got sick and the downward spiral began for good.

“That she does,” he agreed, rubbing his face and managing a smile for Zoe’s sake. Finishing his coffee, he allowed himself to daydream for a moment. He only ever allowed himself to think of what a date would be like with Zoe, and it was always the same thing. A bright blue sky, good food, and a trek through one of the city’s smaller and more interesting museums. Nothing more, nothing less. More than anything, he just wanted her company.

“Earth to Henry!” Zoe’s sweet, musical voice brought him back to reality, and looking at her, he couldn’t help but blush. “You were on a different planet. Time to get back to it, sleepyhead,” she mused, tugging one of his curls playfully before letting it spring back up.

“Sorry. Just a zombie today, I s’pose,” Henry answered, looking at his watch and seeing he only had two minutes before he had to be back on the phone.

“I’ll see you later. No falling asleep at your desk, eh?” Zoe grinned, giving him a wink as she stood to wash out her container, her heels clicking on the floor in a way that had Henry momentarily entranced.

Nine o'clock came as quickly as molasses. By the time he’d stamped out, Henry’s vision was blurred, and he was slightly dizzy. He was careful as he walked home, staying closer to the buildings than the car-lined roads, and waiting for the crosswalks to give him the right of way instead of jaywalking like he normally did.

By the time he hit Dom and Gen's block, he was swaying a little, beyond starving. He hoped the goodbyes wouldn't take too long and he and Sophia could be on their way. Dinner would be something quick, easy, and carb-loaded to hopefully keep his roiling stomach from protesting too much.

Taking the stairs slowly, Henry knocked on the door, leaning against the frame and dying to see his little girl.

“PAPA!!!!” Sophie called excitedly, rushing to Henry with the biggest smile on her face. Though she loved her extended family, it was clear that she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. Papa missed you a ton!" Henry grinned, dropping into a squat to hold her close, his body swaying a little at the sudden movement.

“We had so much fun today and I made you dinner and I made cake and Aunt Gen said you can eat here while it’s still hot and I missed you, papa!!” The second part came out in a single, muffled rush of air, a confirmation of the type of day Henry’d hoped she’d had. At hearing about dinner, he pulled back, fixing Soph with a playful, narrow-eyed smile before raising a knowing eyebrow up at Gen.

"Did you now? Did you make it allll by yourself?" he asked, tickling Sophia’s sides, Henry tugging her close once more to press kiss after kiss to her face.

When his legs began to get pins and needles, Henry reluctantly let her go. Standing, he tripped over his own feet, Henry’s swaying combined with his clumsiness making it seem as though he were drunk.

"Everything alright, mate?" Dom asked as Henry finally came in through the door, Dom hugging his brother-in-law a little tighter than normal, concern etched in his features.

"Yeah, yeah, just a very long day. Glad to be back with the munchkin and to apparently have dinner made for me…Gen," Henry spoke the last part with emphasis, shooting her a half-smile and a wink, not in the least mad at her for making him dinner. If anything, he was relieved he wouldn't have to wait until they were home.

He didn't even flinch as Soph crawled up onto his lap as his plate was set in front of him, Henry crooking his finger at Gen before she could leave, a warm kiss pressed to her cheek in thanks.

"Thank you for doing this today. I owe you big time," he murmured, cupping the back of her head for a moment, Henry wanting her to be certain that he meant every word.

“Just remember, you’re not alone in this,” Gen whispered back, her expression tight and filled with an emotion that was both intense and unreadable, a cross between anguish and worry.

“Hands off my wife, pal,” Dom joked to bring some levity to the room, his hands coming down on Henry’s shoulders with a friendly shake. Henry’s mind set out to hurt him, reminding him of the many daydreams of Zoe, of their lunchtime conversations, long enough to make him flinch in his seat, the thoughts feeling like blasphemy.

There was once a time where he’d come back with a quip of his own, something quick-witted to keep the room laughing just a little longer. As it stood however, Dom’s words were just a painful reminder that there was only one married man in the room. Putting on a brave face, Henry managed to look the part, but his voice betrayed him, coming out soft and broken.

“You got a good one, mate, that’s for sure, but I got the angel.”

#henry cavill #henry x ofc #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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echo-bleu · 4 years ago

Text

straight through the smoke (3)

Summary: After Magnus breaks up with Alec and chooses to align with the Seelie Queen, pulling the Downworld Cabinet with him, Alec is arrested by the Clave for high treason. Will Magnus find out in time to save him from a death sentence?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

On AO3

Ten minutes left.

Alec stumbles when his guards push him roughly toward the center of the courtyard, struggling to regain his balance with his hands still cuffed in front of him. One of the guards swipes his stele along the cuffs to remove them, and Alec flexes his wrists to help the blood flow back into his hands. He takes a pause to steady himself, then raises his head high and walks the rest of the way.

The large rune carved in the stone of the courtyard hasn’t been used in a long time. There hasn’t been an execution in the New York Institute in over a century. Alec has to fight himself not to look down as he steps in the middle of the rune, instead holding Imogen’s gaze until she looks away.

Beyond the no-man’s-land created by the rune and its safety circle, the courtyard is crowded. They’re all familiar faces, people Alec has led for most of the last decade. There is no hunger, no blood-thirst in their eyes. In fact, the atmosphere of the courtyard is muted and heavy. Disapproving.

Imogen is in front of the crowd, holding an adamas staff. Behind her, the Institute’s core stone of adamas has been set on a small platform, waiting to power the staff. The staff would normally be handled by a Silent Brother, Alec knows, but there must not have been any within the warlocks’ wards. Imogen is taking it upon herself to do the deed, just like she almost did with Valentine – or the man she thought was Valentine. Alec is looking at his executioner.

The anger has settled in him, and then evaporated. There is no time left for bitterness, not when he has mere minutes to live. Imogen doesn’t matter.

He tears his eyes away from her to survey the crowd. Even the youngest Shadowhunters of the Institute are here, some of them barely turned thirteen, and Alec is immensely grateful that his parents took Max back to Alicante as soon as he was stable. He couldn’t stand to look at his little brother today.

He wonders if Imogen has deemed it necessary to inform his parents, if they’re raising hell to save him from this, powerless, in Alicante, or if they secretly think he deserves no less. He’ll never know.

Despite being crammed around the safety circle, his people are standing apart from Imogen’s goons, like they’re showing their disapproval by isolating the Clave’s envoys into a group of their own. The Institute’s Shadowhunters are all standing at attention, in their formal uniforms, the Institute’s insignia on display on their chests. Alec chokes up. Every one of them seems to be wearing the—his Institute’s symbol instead of the more conventional Clave insignia for such an occasion – it’s a deliberate show of support to him, one that Imogen can’t take away from them.

Alec locks eyes with his second-in-command Jens, his mentor, who looks back at him with his gaze full of rage and sorrow. He breaks his stance to place his hand over his insignia, just above his heart. Alec nods at him, trying to make his gratitude apparent in his expression. Jens will handle the Institute until Imogen or the Consul appoints someone else – maybe Jace again, unless his association with Alec has tainted him irremediably.

Alec tries to meet everyone’s eyes, even briefly, in the time Imogen gives him. Sixteen-year-old Kara Svec, a recent transfer from Prague, who Alec has been taking under his wing. She’s crying silently, her head held high, and Alec gives her a tiny smile. Sandra, his favorite IT specialist and Alec’s de facto secretary, since the Clave has yet to assign him a real one. They won’t need to anymore. Andrej, the weapons instructor who replaced Hodge, and his herd of teenage Shadowhunters. Underhill, his brand new Head of Security. Even Lindsay Wayglide and Carson Strongmill, who grumble at each of Alec’s new briefings, are wearing their Institute insignia.

Jace and Izzy are standing at the front, their expressions a mix of horror and trepidation that even their best attempt can’t hide. They’re holding hands tightly, not bothering to stand at attention. It’s clear that they’re still hoping that something will stop the execution, but it’s too late for that now. Alec wishes that he could hug them one last time.

Magnus isn’t there. Alec wonders if he hallucinated his presence yesterday, or if Magnus is out there somewhere, trying to stop Valentine. He has his people to think about. Alec berates himself for hoping that he’d be able to look into his lover’s eyes as he died.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you have been declared guilty of high treason, and sentenced to death by immolation,” Imogen declares, her tone emotionless. “Do you have any last words?”

Alec, turns away from Imogen, clasping his hands behind his back in one last show of respect in the direction of his people. He looks down at the rune on the floor and tries to put his thoughts together, swallowing.

“I was lucky,” he says quietly. The silence in the courtyard seems to grow deeper, expectant. “I was lucky to fall in love with a man as wonderful as Magnus Bane. A man who is a warlock, a Downworlder. Someone that my entire upbringing had conditioned me to despise, and yet the man I met and fell in love with was nothing like what I had been told.”

Alec blinks back the tears coming to his eyes, letting his memories of Magnus wash over him. He can barely remember, now, why their breakup felt so important, why he didn’t run to Magnus and apologize, to spend one more day, one more minute with him. Wasted chances, all of them.

“Nephilim, Downworlders, Mundanes,” he continues, this time raising his head high to meet the eyes boring into him. “We’re all people. When it comes down to it, we’re all the same, with the same faults and the same hopes. I love a Downworlder, and if the Clave is going to execute me for that, then so be it. I am not ashamed, and the only regret I have is that it took me too much time to understand how deeply we Shadowhunters are failing at fulfilling our duty.” Alec turns to look at Imogen, letting his hands fall to his sides. He refuses to show her any more deference. “Our prejudices deform our understanding of the world until it is unrecognizable, and that is how ideas like those of the Circle are born.”

Imogen opens her mouth, but Alec turns away from her again. “The coming times may bring war and grief to our doorstep,” he meets Jens’ gaze. “I am sorry that I will not be there to meet them at your side. But when there comes a time when you have to take a stand, I urge you to think. Is caring for other people a crime that should be punished, just because those people are different from us?

“I love a warlock, and I will not apologize for treating him and his kind like people.”

Alec lowers his head to signify the end of his speech. He traces the rune under his feet with his eyes, once more, then catches Izzy and Jace’s eyes. I love you, he mouths, opening the parabatai bond wide to push through all of his love. They’re the ones who will have to stay behind, and keep fighting.

Jace pushes back fearstrengthlove and Alec nods at him just a fraction. Izzy has tears running down her cheeks. Alec takes all the courage he can get from their gazes and tries to send some back, before he turns back to Imogen. He will not let his siblings see his face as he burns.

Imogen doesn’t look at him as she raises the staff and touches it to the core stone. The entire courtyard seems to hold its breath, watching the tip light up like a stele, ready to activate the fire rune on the floor.

“Pulvis et umbra sumus,” Imogen declares. Her posture tightens when the only ones who repeat it are her Clave soldiers, but she turns her staff to the rune without stalling.

Alec closes his eyes.

This is how his story ends. Burnt to death in the courtyard of his own Institute, under the eyes of his siblings and his people. This is how he dies.

Twelve hours left.

“He wasn’t supposed to plead guilty! We were supposed to have more time!”

Isabelle is pacing the length of the small bedroom, while Jace sits immobile on the bed, staring at nothing. He looks in shock, incapable of processing. Clary looks at Magnus with pleading eyes as Jace fails to react to her pats on his arm.

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose. “The Clave called off the search for Valentine,” he says. “He got through the wards around the city. He’s on his way to Lake Lyn as we speak, and the Consul is going to welcome him with open arms.”

The three Shadowhunters stare at him in shock. “The Consul is part of the Circle?” Isabelle asks with wide eyes.

“Alec said it was the only explanation. I told him during the trial.” Magnus closes his eyes. “Maybe that was a mistake. He pleaded guilty to speed up the trial, so we could get there faster.”

“Fuck!” Jace mutters through his teeth. He rams his fist into the mattress in desperate rage.

“That sounds like Alec,” Isabelle sighs.

“What do we do?” Clary asks, wringing her hands. “We have to stop Valentine, but we can’t let Alec get executed!”

Magnus feels himself flinch at the word once more. Executed. If they don’t find a solution fast, Alec will be burned to death by his own people, for the crime of loving him. Of being a good person, in spite of everything he’s been taught.

Clenching his fists, Magnus forces down the magical outburst he can feel coming and instead conjures a timer. “We have twelve hours,” he says, starting the magical clock with a wave of his hand.

“If Valentine is already in Idris, he’ll be at Lake Lyn long before that,” Isabelle says. Her face distorts before her next sentence. “Stopping him has to be our priority. We can’t let him succeed.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I agree that he’s the priority, but we can’t leave things as they are. This isn’t just about Alec. Even if we succeed in stopping Valentine, if Alec is executed tomorrow and word gets out about why, we’re looking at an all-out war.” He takes a gasping breath, the guilt eating him alive. How much of all this is his fault? He knows, he’s known for centuries that the Seelie Queen can’t be trusted. He chose her side over Alec. And if the war that’s brewing happens, he’ll have doomed his own people as well as Alec.

He leans against the wall, struggling to breathe through the panic. “Magnus?” Isabelle asks, squeezing his arm.

Magnus shakes himself. He can’t give in to the fear. Not yet. “The Seelie Queen betrayed us all. And your Clave is about to execute one of its own Heads for associating with the Downworld. This is a fuse that will blow it up to massive proportions.”

“But what can we do?” Clary asks.

“We need to split up,” Jace breathes, meeting Magnus’ eyes as he understands his intent. “Some of us need to stay behind. To organize.”

“Yes,” Magnus confirms.

They all look at each other for a moment. It’s not an easy decision. “Magnus,” Isabelle says softly. “You’re the best equipped to fight Valentine, especially since Jonathan might be with him.”

Magnus sighs. As loathe as he is to leave Alec, he knows she’s right. “I’ll go. I’ve already spoken to Luke and Raphael, they know where I stand. You can coordinate with them.”

“What about the warlocks?” Clary asks. “There’s still the wards over the city.”

“That’s also why I need to go,” Magnus says. “I’m the only one here who can go through them. I can take one of you with me. The warlocks won’t get involved beyond lowering the wards when I tell them to, unless war is officially declared.”

“The wards are useless now, though,” Isabelle remarks.

“Maybe not,” Jace says. “If you take them down, we expose ourselves to the Clave, and we know we can’t trust them. Right now every Shadowhunter in New York is in the Institute. That could work to our advantage.”

“An insurrection?” Magnus asks curiously.

“Maybe not that far, but Imogen is a minority right now. Our people are loyal to Alec. We may be able to use that to stall, if nothing else.”

Magnus nods. “Buy us more time.” He eyes the timer. “We could use that.”

“Clary, you go with Magnus,” Jace says.

Clary frowns. “You’re a better fighter than I am.”

Jace shakes his head. “You have your runes. And I’m needed here. My name and Izzy’s contacts will go a long way.”

Jace doesn’t add that if Alec is executed, it will incapacitate him and make him useless in a fight, but Magnus can see it on his face.

Clary nods and stands up, checking her pocket for her stele. “Magnus, do you think you could summon me a blade from the armory?” she asks. “I don’t know if we’re still on house arrest, but I’m sure we’ll be watched the second we step out of this room.”

“Of course.” Magnus visualizes the armory the best he can and pulls. The blade he finds in his hand isn’t Clary’s usual one, but Clary doesn’t seem to be bothered as she grabs it and clips it to her belt.

“Alright, Biscuit,” Magnus takes her shoulder. “We can’t waste any more time.”

He watches her hug Jace tightly, then Izzy, and the steel band around his chest tightens a little more at the thought of Alec, alone in a cell, waiting for his execution. He doesn’t let himself wish that they could have had more time, that they could have talked. They will.

“Isabelle,” he says. Isabelle turns to him and hugs him a well, but Magnus can’t quite return the gesture. He’s too tense. “If we don’t make it back in time—”

“We’ll do everything in our power,” Isabelle promises. She doesn’t say what, specifically. She can’t promise more.

Neither can Magnus. “If Valentine succeeds,” he starts instead, swallowing. “Tell Alec that I love him, and I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Magnus,” Isabelle murmurs. “You’ll get to tell him yourself. Have faith.”

Magnus nods. “I love you, too. Alec is my family now, and that means that so are you.”

“Go kill Valentine for me, then,” Jace says, punching his arm. In another context, it could have seemed callous, even rejecting. But the look on his face says everything, and Magnus suddenly remembers that Valentine raised him. That Valentine is his abuser.

“For all of us,” he chokes out. “Brother.”

They’re brothers in battle now, not just in their connection to Alec. They strive toward the same goal. Jace nods, pursuing his lips in the way he does when he’s trying to hide his emotions.

Magnus opens a portal, layering it with a shield meant to pierce wards, both those of the Institute and the ones around the city. Clary takes his hand, and in a second, they’re gone.

Eight hours left.

They’ve set up in the training room. It’s something Alec once started, Izzy remembers, in the first year he took over the Institute. He was sixteen, not even an adult in Nephilim eyes. She remembers that he had to get Jens to sign every single report before he could even send them to their parents because his own signature held no weight, even though he was effectively running an entire Institute.

Their parents still came back for a few days every month back then, and after dressing Alec down for some minor mistake, they’d kicked him out of the Head’s office like his work meant nothing. So Alec had swallowed his pride, changed into workout clothes, and held every single one of his planned meetings in the training room, under the guise of fighting hand-to-hand.

He kept doing that as long as their parents still held some pretense of running the Institute whenever they were in New York. The practice came in handy when first Lydia, then Aldertree and later Imogen took over the Institute and Izzy watched Alec more than once discreetly listen to his people’s complaints and needs while kicking their ass on the training room floor, or letting them pretend to watch him fight Jace or Izzy herself.

Today it’s Izzy and Jace on the mats, sparring without conviction. It’s past midnight, and the benches are full. They’ve had to wait until Imogen retired for the night, leaving only one of her henchmen to watch over the ops center while the Institute works are reduced capacity. They can’t leave the bounds of the city, when they would usually handle calls as far out as New Jersey, and half of the regular patrols have been canceled because of the events of the day. Anything involving Downworlders has been put on indefinite hold.

Izzy straightens with a silent nod to Jace, untangling herself from his grip, and heads back toward the nearest bench to grab her towel. Jens hands her a bottle of water, casually standing up next to her, just outside of the line of sight of the Clave guard in the other room.

“Clary’s training all night,” Izzy says. “I need someone to cover for her. It’s her final exam.”

Jens nods gravely. “Is she on her own?”

“No,” Izzy shakes her head. “She’s getting some help.” She makes a small hand gesture low at her side, imitating Magnus’ style the best she can.

“Good,” Jens nods. “I hope it will be enough.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Izzy sees Jace gesture to her. It looks like he’s got Lindsay to distract the Clave guard, and he has his back to them now. Jace runs his hand across his throat. The sound of the surveillance system has been taken down. The guard won’t notice as long as he’s not looking. They have a few minutes.

She signals the Shadowhunters around her to come closer. They gather around her just as Jace joins them, still looking like an accidental grouping but close enough to listen.

“I think you all know that the crimes Alec is accused of are unfair and that he’s innocent. It looks like the Clave is corrupt far beyond what we thought. I’m reaching out to people we trust to try to overturn this decision, but I need you to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” one of the Shadowhunters asks.

It’s Kara Svec, Alec’s little protegee. She’s at the bottom of the Institute hierarchy, still a trainee, and she’s speaking out of turn, but Izzy doesn’t point it out. She knows it, Izzy can see it on her face. She loves Alec and she’s terrified.

Alec was her age when he took over the Institute, Izzy realizes. She didn’t understand how young that was at the time. They were teenagers, ready to take on the world, and she and Jace must have caused Alec so much trouble with their unruliness. Izzy can barely handle the thought of leading the Institute now, let alone when she was sixteen.

Izzy puts an arm around Kara’s shoulders to comfort her, though the young Shadowhunter is taller than her. “We’re going to do everything we can to get Alec out of this,” she says. It’s looking less and less like they’ll succeed while staying within the bonds of Clave law. Izzy and Jace have tried everything they could already, from calling their parents – they didn’t answer, and Izzy has a feeling that Imogen is purposefully keeping them away – to Jace directly trying to convince Imogen to change her mind. Izzy has been through all of her contacts in Alicante, and the only thing she got was a promise from Aline that she’d call back as soon as she got hold of her mother.

“If we have to, we’ll stop the execution and break Alec out,” Jace says, his voice deep and more confident than he is. “We won’t ask any of you to put yourself in a position to go against the Clave, but we need to know that you won’t stop us.”

Jens steps up at that. “Alec is our Head, and what’s happening is wrong. I am loyal to him before the Clave.” Izzy nods at him. The older Shadowhunter is Alec’s mentor in many ways, the one who taught him how to run the Institute when their parents left. Alec broke traditions when he made Jens his official second-in-command, despite him not being a fieldworker.

“He’s the best commander I’ve ever had,” Underhill declares. “I stand with him. We’ll help in any way we can.”

Kara nods emphatically at that, tears in her eyes, and she’s followed by all of the others. Everyone here has a reason to be thankful to Alec, and that’s exactly why Izzy chose them.

“We’ll do things by the book for as long as possible,” Izzy says. “But be ready. Pass the word to anyone you know you can trust.”

“Time’s up,” Jace signals.

They break ranks immediately, going back to the benches as Jace drags Underhill out to the center of the room. Izzy sits down next to Jens, making a show of unwrapping her hands.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she murmurs. “Thank you. For your support, for all these years. Alec wouldn’t have made it without you. None of us would have.”

Jens lowers his head. “I wish I could have protected him more. He took on so much more than he should have had to, and now they’re punishing him for it.”

“Imogen hates Downworlders. Hell, the Clave hates them. Alec knew that when he made his choices, Jens. None of this is your fault.”

“Be careful tomorrow,” Jens whispers. “We’re on the brink of war. If you free Alec and side with the Downworld, you’ll be hunted by every Institute.”

“I hope it won’t come to that, but it’s better than Alec being executed,” Izzy murmurs. She looks around her and spots Kara with her face in her hands, trembling slightly. “Jens, tonight, will you watch over Kara? I’m worried about her. She’s really attached to Alec.” Izzy doesn’t know all the details of the abusive situation she escaped in her previous Institute, run by her father, but she knows enough to know that Alec saved her life by pulling her out. The fear of losing him could pull her right back to the traumatized state she was in when she first got to New York.

“I know,” Jens says sadly. “I’ll take care of her. What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

Jens is one of the few people in the Institute who knows about Izzy still being in recovery, and how stressful the last few months have been.

“I’ll hang on until morning,” Izzy smiles weakly, touched by his concern. “I have Jace. And I have a mission. I’ll be fine.”

Two hours left.

“For the last time, the Inquisitor is not allowing any visitors,” the Clave guard growls, his hand ostensibly on the hilt of his seraph blade.

Izzy fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Come on,” she pleads. “He’s my brother. He’s gonna die tomorrow.” She almost chokes on the last sentence, and it’s far less of an act than she’s willing to admit.

No. Alec isn’t going to die. They’re going to get him out of there.

“I have orders,” the guard says. “I’m not letting you through.”

Izzy sighs. She’s been trying to get to Alec for a while, coming back here every hour, but it’s not happening. She turns on her heels and walks back to the elevator. Jace joins her just as she gets out on the third floor and comes with her to her room. “Any luck?” he asks.

“No.”

“Me neither. Still nothing from our parents, and Clary and Magnus aren’t answering their phones.”

“Fuck,” Izzy swears through her teeth. She throws herself on her bed. It puts her face to face with Magnus’ timer, which now read 2:03. They’ve got two hours and three minutes left to save Alec, and they haven’t made any progress. What are they going to do?

The only positive point so far is that Luke and Raphael are still alive, answering their texts, so Valentine hasn’t succeeded in making the Wish. Yet. Clary and Magnus have been out of contact since they portalled to Idris, so there’s no way to know if they’re even alive.

Izzy’s phone buzzes in her hand, and she brings it up to see the text, only now realizing how tightly she’s gripping it. Jace sits down beside her to look over her shoulder.

It’s Aline.

Mom has got the Council together in an emergency meeting. The Consul is out of reach, so she’s calling the shots. What do you need?

Izzy breathes out. Finally, something is moving. Just as she moves to answer, her phone starts ringing.

“It’s Clary,” she breathes. Jace immediately straightens. Izzy taps the screen to answer the video call.

“Clary?”

“Izzy!” Clary’s face appears on the screen, bathes in sunlight. It’s almost midday in Idris. Magnus comes into the frame beside her, and Izzy lets out a breath she didn’t know she held all this time. They both look okay, if a little out of breath.

“We did it,” Clary says. “We got Valentine. He’s dead.”

Izzy closes her eyes in relief – or maybe just exhaustion. Jace says something under his breath and squeezes her against him tightly.

“He raised the Angel, but I got to him before he could make a wish,” Clary continues.

“Thank the Angel,” Izzy sighs. A part of her registers that the Angel she’s thanking is the one who would have annihilated the Downworld on Valentine’s command. “I mean, thank you, in this case. You’re certain he’s dead?”

“Yes,” Clary answers. “Magnus killed him while I talked to the Angel.”

Izzy chokes on her breath at Clary’s nearly casual tone. “You talked to Raziel?”

“Yeah,” Clary laughs. She sounds more shell-shocked than happy. She’s had a long night. They all have, but Clary and Magnus perhaps more than anyone else. “Not my first rodeo with an angel, remember? I told him that we didn’t want to make the Wish today, and he left. The Wish is safe.”

Izzy takes a moment to breathe and process that. It’s too much at the same time, she doesn’t know where to even start, but she has to keep it together. For Alec. Alec needs her to figure out their next step, and the next. He needs her to get him out of this.

The news of Valentine’s death should feel more earth-shattering than it does, but they still have work to do. Izzy puts that aside for now. They can celebrate and think of what almost happened later.

“What about the Consul?” she asks.

“We ran into him while walking to the lake,” Magnus answers. “We had the element of surprise, since he didn’t know we knew he was a traitor. We had to fight off his goons, but I think we got them all. The Consul is dead.”

“Good. Do you have conclusive proof that they were with the Circle?” Jace asks.

“Is this enough?” Clary asks, switching to her phone’s second camera. It moves for a moment before it stops on what is unmistakably Malachi Dieudonné’s face, the Circle rune prominent on his neck. “I think he had a glamour on it that fell when he died.”

“Definitely enough,” Izzy says, taking a screenshot. She thinks for a moment, as Clary brings the camera back on herself and Magnus. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get in touch with the Council.” She pauses as Magnus nods. “We need to make sure that you’re untouchable, especially Magnus, in case there are other Circle members in the Council. You record a video of you two explaining exactly what happened tonight. Jace authorized Magnus’ portal as Head of Field Ops and Magnus will get paid for his services, so we’re in the clear on that front. Make sure the video shows Malachi and the Circle rune clearly, and that you don’t implicate yourselves. Then send it to the Institute’s servers. It will make several backups just in case.”

“Okay,” Clary accepts. “We’ll do that. Can we come back now?”

Izzy sighs. “No. I’m sorry, but if you aren’t there when the Council sends a team to the scene, this will all have been for nothing.”

“Alec only has two hours left,” Magnus says, anguish in voice.

“I know, Magnus. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he’s still alive when you get back, okay? But you can’t leave Idris, or you’ll get thrown in jail too, and it will all have been for nothing.”

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose, but nods.

“Magnus, can you get the warlocks to bring down the wards? We’ll need you and whoever they send from the Consul to be able to come through.”

“Okay,” Magnus says. “I’ll be there the second they let me go.”

“Me too,” Clary affirms. “Guys. We’re gonna make it through. Valentine’s dead. We’re gonna save Alec. Okay? Just hold it together.”

Izzy takes a breath and gives her a small smile, feeling Jace do something similar at her side. “Thanks, Clary.”

They’re all inches away from crumbling, but they need to hold on for a bit longer. One hour and forty-eight minutes left, according to the timer.

It’s a terrifyingly short amount of time that somehow feels like an eternity. Izzy sends the screenshot of Malachi’s Circle rune to Aline, along with a quick summary of what happened, and transmits Clary and Magnus’ video to the Council as soon as she gets it. Jace paces the length of the bedroom, fists clenched. After a while, Izzy takes his hand and pulls him down to the floor, where they sit cross-legged, across from each other.

“I think Alec could use some calm right now,” Izzy gestures to Jace’s parabatai rune, swallowing her tears. It’s almost seven. Outside, the sun is rising, coming through the stained glass windows.

Jace lets out a near-sob. They still don’t have an answer from the Council, and Clary and Magnus aren’t responding to Izzy’s texts. With no official backup coming, all their plans are crumbling one by one until they’re only left with the last resort.

“Breathe with me, brother,” Izzy murmurs, holding out her hands. “Send him strength. And love.”

Jace links hands with her and closes his eyes.

They don’t move until Jens knocks on the door, fifteen minutes before the end of the timer. “It’s time,” he says when Izzy opens the door. “They’re prepping him.”

Clary and Magnus haven’t made it back.

They’ve run out of time.

#shadowhunters #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #mine #echo's fanfiction #hm discord #malec discord server #straight through the smoke #angst

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workingonit-currently · 3 years ago

Text

DOG

session starts a little late, maybe. And simply text tonight.

still waiting at the gate

Times does not spell well if Courage and Aleris are the only two available for this session...

Griss is still trying to kill himself

Apparently his house is about to go up in flames

Griss needs help putting out the flames and Aleris thinks Imogen sleep cast the fire. (again)

Courage tells Aleris they can use this as cover to enter the city without the guards

Aleris just calls the guards over to help

Aleris tries to end it with druidcraft

Griss and the guard run in to save his house and Aleris doesn't want them to die.

Griss' house is fire-proof but the recipes are not and all gone now.

Courage is suprised he doesn't just throw shit in a bowl with how weird his food tastes.

Aleris offers to give him some of her cookbooks but Griss takes that as an insult.

We hear horses and Aleris becomes enamored.

You see the other goliath guard from earlier, who you sent to grab Danald Gray Old, along with another man. He's wearing bright bronzed armor, has long, gray hair, and is short and well-built.

"Travellers! Present yourselves! I have brought our boss, Mr. Old!"

Aleris says she needs to get into the city quick

The old man knows ALERIS!!!?

Aleris asks him what he is

DGO is offended, apparently

He looks like he's going in for a hug so Courage steps away, she does not like.

Aleris still questions him. (and now my capslock is backwards so the light is on when I'm typing in lower case....0-0)

He's an founder or something and my computer has reverted to normal, wahay

He looks to be a short human or a tall dwarf

Aleris asking the real question of 'is he going to let us past?'

He's actually pretty chill and allows us in, allows us horses and stuff to.

He introduces himself to Courage and she is prickly

He says she could stand to learn manners as well and Aleris wants him to turn into a dog.

We give him the glare as we both get on the warhorse to ride into the city

Aleris says 'The horses told me they don't like went people sat on them'

Courage is connected to this horse so...

Aleris now refers to DGO as dog man and Courage shakes her head at his apparent treatment of horses.

He smiles at you, his smile more like a toothy grin full of barely hidden anger, before he swings up onto his horse. "Well then? If you're ready, I will show you the way. And watch your words. I am the founder of this city, you would do well to remember that."

Ohhhh Aleris is dunking on this dude. (like I thought, with just Aleris and Courage they get angry.)

He speeds off and Courage takes it as a challenge

Noooom!

Roll and a 7 so not so noom

Aleris feeds him apple and it's a 23 noom! He is speedy noom boy!

Stephen, after being bribed with an apple, achieves all his dreams and almost flies across the gray waste of the ground like he has wings on his feet. DGO's horse isn't far behind, but Stephen neatly outraces him to the gates of the city

DGO is annoyed and comes storming behind us as we pat and give apples to Stephen, our good boy.

He's angry we've disrespected him but Courage is acting all innocent.

lying me teeth off Where I'm from it's the mayor honor to make the guest race, and if he get beaten it's means he choose his guest well. But probably, don't have such tradition here. Since the city is still very young. - ALERIS IS A LEGEND! I love her! Well done Rian.

He glares at you, working his jaw, before his mouth stretches painfully into an anger-filled horrifying imitation of a smile. "Of course. My....apologies. You two truly are great guests. Clearly, I have chosen well." He grabs the harness on his horse, pulling it to a guard who takes it, startled, and he storms into the city. - We might have gone and messed up

People are parting for the mayor and Aleris is blowing Courage's attempts at being not seen by waving at people staring

Aleris tries to find druids

Aleris rolls a good perception check (I think repayment for all the terrible rolls last sunday.)

Aleris asks Courage what to do and Courage says to stick with the dog, he might lead them exactly where they need to go

'yes, that's the polite thing to do right?' - Aleris...you better not be thinking what I'm thinking....

You guys continue following him through the streets, all the way to a massive, bright white building in the center of the town. It looks almost like a massive, blindingly bright spike in the middle of the city, shedding light on anything around it. It is probably the brightest thing you've seen so far while down here.

Courage complements the house

Aleris says nothing because if she opens her mouth rudeness might come out

"It is my place of work, gallant knight! The Tallspire. It is the tallest and brightest thing in the city. I had it specially made out of veins of this bright, light-emitting stone we had found in some of the caves of Helmsbane cavern. This stone is said to ward off the god Helm; thus the name. Anyways, come inside, come inside." He walks to the doors and flings them open, walking inside and up a massive spiral staircase in the side of the tower.

More sucking up and Aleris being silent

You guys follow him up this massive spiral staircase for a good three or four minutes. You see thousands upon thousands of crates in nooks and recesses in the walls, all branded “oldliving oils—live until you’re old and gray”. He leads you all the way up to his office.

His office is massive, with a desk in the middle with stacks of papers on top of it. He’s got the Oldliving logo in gold leaf on top of the desk, and a few chairs around it. There are shelves upon shelves of books and papers and files.

We sit and think about how he's compensating for something

He snaps his fingers and an elaborate throne-sort-of-rolly-chair appears out of thin air, and he collapses into it with a dramatic sigh. "Now. Now that all the walking business is out of the way, I would like to talk to you for a bit, Aleris, person-to-person, just us two." He leans over the table, steepling his fingers, and looks at you expectantly, Courage.

Courage in not going anywhere for the moment though you can't remind me of noble knights when all I've been thinking about is Ed. I'm going to start thinking of ED.

She's my emotion support paladin, she doesn't leave me grab Courage arm, and hold on firmly

"Well, I'm afraid that if you wish to speak about your true family, little druid, it would be better for both of us if she were not here."

Courage asks about who she'll be with waiting

Aleris argues Courage stays

Daniel!?

"You can trust me, Aleris. I'm old, I would not even be able to hurt a fly. As for you, Courage...DANIEL!" He shouts out the door. You hear a faint "Yes, sir?" "DANIEL, COME UP HERE, WE NEED SOME COMPANY FOR A CLIENT!" "Of course sir, I'll be right up."

Courage is ready to fight this Daniel

Daniel is a cat, a tabaxi. Aleris' dog, Link can stay though. Courage is confused if she should skin the cat.

whisper back Don't I want to see where this is going. I'll sent you Link if I need anything. Ok?

Courage trusts Aleris so takes the cat's paw and walks out of the room. (did I mention she is nervous around cats.)

Oooh, DGO getting to the point and calling Courage a client

Aleris also doesn't like being called a client

"Of course. My apologies for assuming." He hums, placing a hand on the file. "We were recently visited by a group of a few travelling druids, wearing green cloaks, who were asking around for someone who went by the name 'Aleris'". He leans over the table to meet your eyes. "Now, I should say, I generally don't like druids. They infringe on some of the...projects I do, however these druids were willing to pay an amount of money to find you."

Oooh, Aleris might be getting kidnapped.

"Well...yes and no. I know where they are, but in exchange for that information, you'll have to help me for a bit." - Nope, Aleris is just being hired to help him for a bit in exchange for information, Yay!

Ohhhhhhhh, Aleris is showing the anger she has for being abandoned

Tricky DGO but Aleris is not agreeing to something she knows nothing about

"You wished to find these druids that are looking for you, no?" He grabs a bottle of some sort of amber, sweet-smelling liquid from the shelf, and snaps his fingers. Two glasses appear, and he pours some of the liquid into each one. "Stay for a while, let's chat about you for a bit."

Suspicious

Aleris tries to divert the conversation but he just wants to talk about her...weird

Aleris asks why he cares

"I do care! I care about our partnership, our friendship, druid. It's a symbiotic relationship. You help me, I help you, we become friends!" - I call horse-shit

Daniel, the cat, locks the room Aleris is in.

Courage asks why.

He shrugs. "Mr. Old told me to, ma'am. He's quite insistent on this with every client. Says it cultivates an air of 'privacy' and 'trust'." - Yeah, Aleris is totally going to trust him now. Rian states.

'You're the one that contacted me. YOU need me, not the other way around. I know I look like a naive little thing, but don't believe for a second that I need you. And if the other druids refused to help you there probably is a very good reason. And I quite would like to hear it.' - Aleris telling the truth!

You see his smile go back to that pained, angry grin. "Of...of course. They did not agree with...some of the lengths I had had to go to in order to make my essential oils, and so, when I asked for their help to make a new product, they left before I could convince them to stay. It's all in the name of business, Aleris, and I will give you a 20% share in the profits if you join me." He looks nervously at Link, who is quietly growling, looking nervously back at the door.

Aleris would like to leave

"Before you leave! Let us sit down! Introduce yourself a bit, talk about yourself. Have a drink." He slides a glass of the amber liquid over to you.

Aleris says goodbye and tries to open the door. (it's locked though.)

The door is locked, and when you look back, Danald Gray Old is holding a few bottles of essential oils. Courage, you hear the door rattle, and Daniel starts again, looking at the door, confused.

We roll initiative and we'll start off fighting next session.

#OXFalconMail #oxfalconmail #dnd #d&d #aleris #courage

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yeaahishowedupatyourparty · 3 years ago

Text

Characters who have been shaped by me & shaped me. (Part 1)

In simpler terms, characters who I feel like have effected how I act in everyday life & characters who I put my real life self into.

Florence.

Believe it or not, Florence is probably the character most like me and the character I put the most of my own personality into. Granted, I don't have as many ditzy moments as she does, but overall we're very similar and I find writing her often reminds me to love parts of my own personality that I don't always want to claim. Sat beside her sisters and cousins, Florence is stereotypically hyper-feminine. Both inside and outside, she's all pink, ballet slippers kittens, dainty jewellery, crying to romantic movies while eating ice-cream, painting her nails as a way of lifting her mood and then matching her purses to them - I could go on. I think in an age where women either push towards owning businesses, building empires and being a kardashian-level of ambitious or settle down with boyfriends and start families before 25, Florence reminds me that it's ok to do neither. She takes everyday as it comes and does what she loves, but has no real life plan. Florence is incredibly sensitive and feels all of her emotions on a very deep and intense level (same). If she's sad, she's distraught. If she's happy, she's ecstatic and if she's in love, she's ready to be whisked down the aisle. She absolutely reminds me of my own values, the main one being that there's WAY more to life than what you have & who you're with. She reminds me that the way you treat others and the positive vibrations & energy you put out into the world is ultimately going to determine how you feel about yourself.

Disney and Imogen.

Where I'm naturally more like Florence by a mile, playing Imogen and Disney has probably helped me way more than I ever realised it would when I made them. Disney - Disney was originally inspired by Blair Waldorf, another character who I feel that I owe a lot to LOL but she's definitely developed into her own unique person. I think the main thing I've learnt from Disney is that it's ok not to like people and the things they do. And, that's not just on a black and white level of "Oh, I don't like you because you're shitty ." or any other justified reason to not like people. Disney has strong opinions and sometimes she can't explain why somebody or something rubs her the wrong way, it just does. After a few years of playing her, I've definitely become the same way. She's VERY good at following her intuition and doesn't need to explain herself if something has upset her. I remember once she had a strong disliking towards Mallory and Charlie, partially because their friendships with Matt and Gisele made her feel ignored. At first, I took her down that route because I thought it'd be a funny, petty reaction true to her character but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I was actually on her side. Whether it's intentional or not, if somebody keeps doing something or talking about something that's killing my energy and making me feel shitty about myself, why should I like them or associate with them? I think Disney's very known for her aesthetics and funny comebacks but this is definitely my favourite thing about her. She protects her own energy which in turn lets her be the confident/self-assured character everybody knows her as. Literal queen of setting boundaries and not caring who gets upset. Imogen - Imogen and I are the least alike of the three sisters but through writing her, I think I've learnt that you don't always have to be nice. Disney's tactic is often to just cut out anything that doesn't align with her, but Imogen isn't afraid to give people the energy they're giving her. I like that she isn't afraid to upset people or call anybody out. She's not afraid to be branded a bitch or a horrible person & I think that's a fear I definitely want to work on shaking. She prioritises her own feelings over those of others and while I don't think it's healthy to always do that, I think writing her has shown me that it's completely necessary. The "What you think of me is your problem" mindset is one that I find very therapeutic to get lost in sometimes.

Lacey.

Lacey is my newest character and the baby of the group but EASILY the character I've been pleasantly surprised to see a lot of myself in. I think pre-"dead" Lacey used to work really hard to keep it altogether; she was a child star, her parent's golden child, America's Sweetheart, a role model, a sister and so much more. She cared almost too much about her image and what was being said about her. Now that she's back, that TikTok with the girl rolling around in the rain and saying "I literally don't care what happens to me anymore" couldn't be more accurate. In 2021, everybody's obsessed with self-care and good mental health but ironically post all of their pretty info-graphics on Instagram, one of the most damaging apps of all time. I think Lacey isn't fully ready for self-improvement. She's angry and confused and feels a weird sense of betrayal from almost everybody. Yet, in the next breath, with the right person/people, she'd happily be more of a Zara; give into feeling loved and opening up/sharing her feelings. She's in a constant war with herself and I think for me, she's probably the most honest character I play. Negative emotions and shitty feelings are a part of life that can't be erased with a cool career opportunity, a relationship or posting a quote on Instagram. A part of self-care is allowing yourself to reject the self-care movement if you don't feel ready for it. Lacey doesn't force herself to be ok and while I think she probably doesn't always channel that in the right way, I can definitely relate to her 'I give up with this shit' attitude. Not caring can sometimes be more freeing than caring.

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ascendantking · 4 years ago

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;; A Shoulder to Lean On ( Ch 4 )

Pairing: Jaron/Imogen Words: 1554/4432 Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4/? Summary: Post-war angst after The Shadow Throne. -- A long-awaited talk between friends.

His feet couldn’t carry him away fast enough. His sword he had discarded somewhere along his route, throwing it off to the side with a clang; he couldn’t stand to hold it any longer.

Once more, he had hurt his king--his friend. Once more. And how much longer was it till his once mores caught up to him? How much longer till the devils collected their dues? They certainly were quick to remind him of his failures, quick to remind him that the slowness in Jaron’s movements were due to his own actions.

The walls never forgot. Those that knew--those that would like nothing more than to climb the political ladder in this time of supposed peace--would like nothing better than to remind people of his past. Though they hardly had to mention it--it was branded onto him.

So he ran, away from prying eyes, away from it all. The faster he went, the slower the consequences. Yes, Jaron trusted him with more than his life, but could he trust himself? His friend gave him more than he could ever think to want and what had he given him? The rational thoughts that were needed in this moment were shoved away.

Continue reading below or on AO3! ( Link on blog. )

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he suddenly collided with someone else who desired nothing more than an escape. As skirts flew up in the air, Roden looked on Imogen in horror as he ignored his own hard fall onto the cobblestone pathway. “I--Oh, my gods, I--” Imogen only blinked, the book she carried had landed off to the side, but her concern laid more with Roden’s wild eyes--there was something about his demeanor that was sorely off. She put a hand up as he quickly scrambled up to offer her his own hand. The Queen pulled herself back onto her feet, brushing off her dress and going to pick up her book before raising an eyebrow over at the captain.

“Hadn’t expected to run into you today,” she said as she dusted her book off of.

“I--likewise,” Roden retracted his hand, furrowing his brows together as she straightened more than herself out; the urgency in the situation seemed to fade as she looked him over--and he gave himself a moment to catch his breath. Imogen offered her arm to him.

“But, I suppose you are the person I’m looking for, do you mind escorting me to the garden?” He blinked at her, confusion knotted further on his face, but he hardly felt like he could deny her, even if she had done this walk many times on her own. Roden looped his arm with hers, walking at the slow pace Imogen set for them both.

The tree leaves rustled in the autumn air as their footsteps echoed along the path. The quiet silence of the day was only interrupted by the inescapable noise of the palace as Drylliad came to life around them. Servants cut across their path hurriedly, nodding their heads in acknowledgment, disappearing just as quickly as they appeared. The few courtiers that found themselves in the presence of both the Queen and the Captain of the Guard moved carefully out of their way, bowing in reverence as they took their hats off. Neither of them dared show any recognition lest it lead to any unwanted conversation. They held their heads high as the sound of their steps came to a stop against the gate to the private gardens. Roden opened the door for Imogen as she nodded her head towards him, moving inside. As soon as the door closed behind Roden, the two of them took off their masks, suddenly out of breath from their short walk over. Imogen sat down, closing her eyes as Roden leaned over his knees, staring at the intricate stone patterns on the ground.

“I doubt you were running for pleasure,” she said softly, finally taking him in. While she wore the finery of the day, her tone gave her away--it was one of a servant risking a whisper behind the back of their master, not one fit for the prestige of the crown.

“I hurt him.” Roden sat down on the ground, crossing his legs in front of him, not looking up at her. “Again.”

She swallowed. “Jaron?”

“Who else.”

Imogen nodded, a pit growing in her stomach. They sat in silence for a few moments longer as the fountain trickled behind them. She set her book off to the side on the ledge, straightening out her skirts before she began slowly, “what...happened?”

“I cut him. We were sparring.” She studied him. His face was red as he bit back his lip. Roden took in a deep breath as it hitched in his throat, still not meeting her eyes as he worked to undo his memories. “I’m sorry.”

She believed that. Her eyes turned downward as she sighed, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as well. Imogen wiped them, looking back over at him as sympathy clouded her expression. Roden wouldn’t want her pity, but she never saw it as pity--a recognition, an olive branch to the broken hearted. She bit her own cheek, abruptly glancing away with a hard look as she remembered her own embarrassment when his father turned his kind eyes towards her. How that man did it, she didn’t know. Imogen sighed, shaking her head to herself. “I doubt he counts it as a transgression.”

Roden sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “He might not, but I do.” She moved to sit on the ground with him, resting a hand gently on his knee. “How can I even face him again, with yet another reminder that it’s only the saints’ mercy keeping me here?”

“I hardly think Jaron’s a saint,” Imogen tilted her head. “The saints have nothing to do with it. You’re here because he wants you here--faults and all. I think you running off will worry him more than a new scar.”

Roden threw his face in his hands. “That’s even worse. I can’t even give him the decency to stay with him in his hour of need.” Imogen’s expression shifted into one of annoyance.

“In his hour of need? During a sparring battle he willingly partook in? With you? Full well knowing one of you might get hurt? He’d be as devastated as you are now if you got a single scrape on you, I swear it. You’ve been by his side far more times than he’ll ever know, there’s no doubt in his mind of your character, Roden.”

He only looked away, closing his eyes as a tear fell to the ground. “I can’t face him. He deserves better than me.”

“And that’s exactly why he wants you by his side, don’t you see?” She scooted closer, squeezing his knee. “You all think so highly of each other, you think the other will be better off with someone else more ‘qualified,’ but your loyalty--your absolute devotion--to each other, that’s what binds you together, that’s what makes this all work--not book knowledge or tactical training, but a trustworthy companion who loves more than they can give.”

Roden looked up at her, his face red with emotion. He sniffed, wiping his face again, before nodding reluctantly. “I’d do anything to repay my debt to him.”

“You owe him nothing but your friendship--and you can’t ever fail him in that regard.”

The captain snorted, as the semblance of a smile pulled itself onto his face, “I suppose he is too stubborn to see otherwise.”

“All the more reason for you to stay by his side,” she put her hand on his shoulder, grinning back at him. “I need to know someone’s keeping that impulsive man safe--and there’s no one more suited to the job than you.” Roden heaved a sigh, nodding once more as he fixed his shoulders. Imogen sat back as she smoothed out her skirt.

“I suppose I should go see how he is--I--” he took in a breath, letting it out slowly. “I at least owe him that.” He looked down, “I shouldn’t have ran, but I didn’t--I couldn’t be responsible again. If I ran, maybe it wouldn’t follow me, but that’s not how these things work.” His chest seemed to deflate as he shook his head, but he sat up straight, facing her once more. “I can’t run from my past, but I also don’t have to let it control me.” Roden stood up, glancing to the door solemnly. “I can’t let it control my present.”

Imogen watched as he made his way out, looking back at her before nodding with more confidence as he closed the gate. Her eyes went to her hands after he left, coarse from years of working, before she sighed and picked herself up, dusting off her skirts and setting her chin straight.

She moved over to the peonies she planted earlier in the year, running her hand through the dirt as she knelt down to pull the weeds that threatened their progress. She cut back some of the foliage around their stems, careful to prune what would inhibit their growth in the spring. The past may not be as easily purged, but any work made towards the future, no matter how small it feels, is a step towards a beautiful spring--and she awaited the bloom.

#the false prince #the false prince fanfic #the ascendance series #the ascendance trilogy #writing #My writing #the runaway king #the shadow throne #roden #king jaron #jaron artolius eckbert iii #imogen #{ f i n a l l y }#;; a shoulder to lean on

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iamayellowbird · 4 years ago

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This is A LOT.

I see so many instances mental unhealth, heartbreak, distraught romanticized in the media and social media.

Let me set the record straight.

Tears don't always come the moment you realize a loss. Sometimes, they do. When it is absolute. Like the time I learned I lost my Oma or my dog Gina, I was near instantly overcome with intense anxiety and sadness. It was hard to breathe.

But other times, like this loss...it waits. It builds. You know the loss isn't absolute, but there is a loss.

The subject might not be lost to the world, but the subject is lost to you, seemingly for ever. You wait. You ponder.

Where is your place in the loss.

Could you have prevented it?

Can you make it easier?

No matter what in the end, a piece of you and the subject is lost forever. An idea you held on so dearly. A feeling. Hope. Love.

Loss. It waits. It builds.

You recite the story over and over, sometimes becoming teary-eyed, but never breaking.

You drive, triggered along the way, vision blurs, but never enough to slow you.

You feel, a building depth inside your being, welling up, taking up so much space, but nowhere to go.

You carry it with you. The weight. Day to day, interaction to interaction. Hoping it goes unnoticed. Maybe it does, in some instances.

It does not feel unnoticed. The weight is real. You feel it. Swelling. Like a dam. That won't break. Just...release. You say "I'm ready" or "I have time now, go!" but it won't.

Grief does not operate on your logistic, convenient terms.

This is grief.

This is loss.

It hides behind a coping façade.

"I'm having a hard time" you say through tearless eyes.

"I'm doing okay" you say through calm, collected breaths.

You look fine.

You feel okay,

after a while.

Time passes.

"Okay I got this, let's move forward"

The song hits you in the gut.

This time its

can't get it out - Brand New (problematic, I'm aware)

Yes.

Someone knows the damn. Dam.

Eyes water. Okay.

Nose starts to run. I guess we're ugly crying now.

Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap (but the Amber Run cover so the lyrics hit different)

Hyperventilate. Suffocating. Gasp for air, frantically.

You know this...You've been here before. Acute loss.

Realization. Nothing will be as it was.

Comfort in another... gone.

You've been waiting.

"Come at me tears"

Be cathartic. Free me.

You've forgotten what entails a good sob.

Snotty nose. Can't breathe.

Desire to calm.

Desire to see it through and let it,

do what it needs. What you need.

Imagine a paper bag.

Now you know why you've seen them in comics or TV.

Slow. Down.

You imagine the bag sucked in against your nose a lips rapidly. Panic.

Was this the point? To make you feel suffocated?

No. The point is to help regain control.

You control the bag, you control your breath.

In for 1...2...3...4

Out for 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8

That's what school, etc have taught me.

Slow down your out-breath. Worry less about IN.

OUT controls the parasympathetic nervous system.

You slow down. You feel okay.

Okay, let's carry on.

Big Black Heart–Better Oblivion Community Center

Do you deserve calm right now? How is the subject? Do they ache?

You know others have ached like you ache.

Tears for them. All.

You can't possibly be calm already.

The hurt can't be this small.

Just a few minutes? A song?

No.

You let your paper bag be caught in the wind out a window.

You have not hurt enough, through your lungs.

Chest.

There is still hurt stored. Like batteries.

Waiting to be used.

Okay.

"Come at me while I'm hot"

"I got this"

And you mean it, this time.

You can stop it anytime you want.

All you need is a paper bag.

In your mind.

Hyperventilate again.

Claw at your arms.

Good thing you just trimmed your nails.

Dig in, but don't leave marks.

Claw/grab at your ribcage like you're trying to free your lungs.

Escape.

From this bone prison. Person.

Let it out. Yell. Let it outside you.

Give it to the universe,

so that,

it may find

who needs to know it's okay.

Okay to feel and act unhinged when you are safe.

Okay to sob or ugly cry until you literally can't breathe because for days, weeks, or months, it has already felt like you couldn't

anyways.

Wait it out. Like a storm.

Collect, breathe, take a break.

Cry. Sob again. Hyperventilate.

Collect.

Not like a storm,

you CAN control this.

You get to have this time.

If you are lucky, it will wait.

Until it is "socially acceptable"

Until you have privacy.

In the evening.

Alone.

When just the right songs come on in succession.

Like the universe knows–and it does–what you need.

Well heck. I'm here to say you don't need to be alone.

You don't need privacy, if you can't get it–to feel grief.

And heck, you shouldn't have to wait for privacy.

Sadness. Grief. Loss.

These are human.

"Coping" day to day...or "functioning" as society would prefer you to...

Shut it down. Out.

Move along now.

Forward.

You got this.

Distract.

Whatever means possible.

I'm here to show my ugly crying self.

Share how ugly loss and grief really is.

How ugly it is, and how privacy makes it uglier.

Hiding behind a mask that you're "fine" shuts people out.

People who want to support.

People who want to see your grief and hold space for it.

People who feel it bottled up, feel a damn dam.

Where is the release?

It will come when it does. We have no real say.

We can contain it for a time, but it has to go,

and it should. Go.

Calming your breathing is good. The paper bag helps. Regain your blood oxygen level.

Think.

Do I need more?

Do I have more to unload?

Is there more I'm willing to let go at this time?

Sometimes it's a yes. Sometimes no.

But if it comes knocking on your soul's door,

I hope you embrace it, give it space.

Grief needs space.

Hiding, minimizing does no favors.

Let it roar, so that it does not become

displaced

in anger

at others.

Give yourself the compassion to let it out

like you would an upset child, friend.

It is not pretty, but it does leave you feeling

lighter

unburdened or

less burdened.

And maybe, just maybe, your expression of grief will reach another person energetically to do the same.

Maybe someone who is attached or connected to your grief, so they can let it go too.

Or maybe, a random soul who just needs that

extra push

to know it's okay.

You're not alone.

#personal #grief #loss #heartbreak #too personal #normalize crying #normalize tears #catharsis #let it out

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