#cass will be able to tell next time they see each other that they have | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helionpegasus · 4 months ago

Text

loml

Cassian x Reader

summary: reader and Cassian had a happy marriage, 'till their love wasn't enough. inspired by loml by taylor swift.

warnings: angst.

words count: 3338

author's note: this is big and sad :)

Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway.

Me and Cassian have been riding on the line between acceptable and an official couple recognized by the priestess and The Mother for a long time.

I don’t know when exactly it started. It couldbe when we met for the first time on a Day Court Ball, and we both couldn’t hold our laughter after one of the courtiers slipped during the dance. It could be when i spent my first Starfall as a Night Court member, and he told me that he was gonna “Teach me how to properly drink”, but ended with the two of us drunk enough to sleep sitting side by side in the hall of the House of Wind. Or it could be when he arrived of the Illyrian Camps directly to my room and with tear in his eyes, saying that his heart could not handle seeing how children and females were treated there maintaining a stone face.

We embroidered the memories of the time I was away.

The first time we kissed was when I returned home hurt from a mission. Cassian stayed the whole night by my side, telling me things that happened when I was away, or tracing random shapes with his finger on my hand and arm.

“I was scared that we would lose you. I would lose you.” He said almost whispering, like he was telling me a secret.

“You’ll never lose me, Cass.” I said back to him.

I was staring at the window when I felt him pull his hand away. Once I turned my head back, our lips met. It was so gentle. The hands holding my face, and his lips silently asking if he could deepen the kiss or not.

I remember stopping to breath and giggle like two teenagers, just to look at each other with love eyes and start kissing again. And again, and again, the whole night.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

“You’re not gonna officialize things?” Mor asked one day.

“What do you mean?” Was my answer.

“You and Cassian. Everyone sees the way you look at each other, and we also know that you crossed the “only starring” line. And if you want me to be honest, I think you two would make each other really happy.” The blonde said, bumping her shoulder onto mine. We were having tea while sitting on the House of Wind’s balcony.

“I don’t know… Cassian is a good male, Mor, and I’m not the only one that sees this. I think I’m just afraid, perhaps. Or just too insecure.”

“About what?”

“Maybe I will not be enough for him. He can find someone better, that maybe would match his soul, and I’ll not be able to endure that kind of heartbreak.”

“That sentence is full of maybes. Do you even know how he looks at you?” She asked. “There’s love in his eyes. There’s love in his body language when he’s next to you, and love in every single word he says toward or about you even though ‘love’ is not one of them.” Mor placed my tea cup on the table next to her to hold both my hands with hers. “Don’t waste a chance of happiness just because you’re afraid.”

I felt aglow like this. Never before, and never since

After that talk, it did not take a lot of time for me to build the courage to phrase my feelings to him. And it was a surprise - at least to me - that he felt exactly the same.

If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary

“Did I ever tell you?” Cassian asked me some weeks after we started dating.

“What?” I closed my book to give him my full attention. My legs are still resting in his lap while we are on the couch.

“That I fell in love with you the day we met?” He gave me one of those grims.

“Like those teenage romance books?” I asked, mirroring his smile.

“Yeah. I think it was when one of Beron’s sons asked to dance with you but you said no, and you put him in his place when he tried to talk shit about you.”

“That would have started a war.” He both laugh.

“You are the most incredible female that I know.” His hand squeezed my calf, like he was reassuring his words. “You are smart and so strong. I’m really lucky to have you.”

You and I go from one kiss to getting married

Nervous was too little to what I was feeling at the moment.

“Your entrance will be in 3 minutes.” Mor said before returning inside.

My hands were sweating, my stomach was hurting and I felt like throwing up. But I didn’t have time to overthink how anxious I was feeling, because within seconds the double doors opened.

It was a small wedding, only close friends invited. My eyes immediately searched for him, and he was beautiful as always.

In the middle of the entrance, my eyes met our friends, and I swear I saw Rhysand shed a tear but he will never admit it.

We both agreed to have a quick ceremony, not having enough patience for something too long or with too much bureaucracy. But the little time was enough for him to say things that will be marked in my heart to the rest of my life.

“People can say that the way that led us towards this moment roamed quite rapidly. But right here, on this day that will be remembered forever by both of us, even though we have hundreds of years after us, I promise to love you ‘till we are nothing more than dust traveling in the universe.”

I couldn’t control the river of tears that I cried hearing his vows. It didn’t take a long time for us to feel a burning sensation on our wrists. The image of a little firefly, so small that it could go unnoticed, but a forever sign to the biggest decision of our lives.

You said I’m the love of your life, about a million times

Our eternal happiness lasted the whole three years. Then Under the Mountain happened.

Who’s gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate?

“Cass, this is a lot for all of us. We’re all scared and worried, but I can’t help you ease your tension or worries if you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

We were twenty years into Under the Mountain.

“And could you even understand?” He stormed out.

“I can try.” I answered ignoring how his words felt in my heart.

“Rhysand is my family. And he’s in such a dangerous situation that he prohibited us from reaching him. How could I not feel worried and angry?”

“I know, because I am worried too. But I’m also your family, and you can share with me how you’re feeling, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself. We don’t have to carry this all by ourselves.”

“If we were mates we didn’t have to. We would just feel.”

I couldn’t hide my hurt expression this time. Of course I knew that we were not mates, even though we had a beautiful relationship that everyone claimed would be a Mate one, it’s been almost thirty years that we’ve been together and no bond clicked.

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” His expression softened once he realized what he said. “We don’t have to be mates. It’s really rare after all, and we have a perfect relationship.” He hugged me and I had to hold back tears. “And most importantly, we love each other.”

When your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fake?

Thirty years later we met Feyre.

And everything seemed to be perfectly fine, like the sun before a storm. And I wish my heart was only warning me about the war coming.

And all at once the ink bleeds

Cassian returned from Archeron's house a little air-headed. So I was trying to be really careful on how to approach him with questions about how it went.

“So, everything worked well?” I asked massaging his shoulders trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah, yeah. It was fine I guess, we sent the letter. Why?” His eyes were closed, voice soft.

“Nothing. You just returned, seeming a bit unsettled, so I thought something may have happened.”

I could feel his shoulders tense up again.

“Attor showed up there. I guess that just took us by surprise, but everything ended up fine, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His response made total sense, so I tried to forget about it. It was a surprising threat, and a long trip flying back home, I thought.

But when we went to the Queens meeting, my heart felt a bit uncertain again.

There was something about how he looked at Nesta, a look that I could not translate. And also how he uncomfortably kept switching his weight to one leg for another everytime she was next to him or even just spoke.

She was certainly capable of saying some hateful words, so I was just thinking that maybe they had a wrong start. At least that was what I was trying to convince myself.

But I felt a hole, like this. Never before and ever since

“She is his mate isn’t she?” I asked Mor when we were alone.

I felt terrible by putting her against the wall, even more after everything that just happened in Hybern. But my heart was hurting too much for an answer.

Mor looked at me with wide eyes, trying to wrap her mind whether to tell me the truth or not.

“What?...”

“I saw the way you looked at her and then between both of them. And I think Cassian also knows, for Mother’s sake, I think already felt. So, please, tell me.”

“Yes… I believe so.”

I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. The hot tears fell down my face. And I wondered if the King’s power also didn’t affect the middle of my chest from how much pain I was feeling at the moment.

I didn’t see Mor kneeling besides me, didn’t feel her arms wrapping around my shoulders, and didn’t hear her comforting words trying to console me at my worst moment. All I felt was pain.

If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary. What we thought was for all time, was momentary.

The conversation with Cassian was nothing close to easy.

He admitted that he felt the bond the first time he saw her. And once she turned fae it only got stronger.

“Do you want to end things to try to pursue something with her?” It took me a while to be able to ask this. Not only because it hurts, but also ‘cause I couldn’t stop crying.

“No. Definitely not. We’ve been married for fifty four years, I’m not gonna just throw it all in the air. It will be hard to endure the feeling, yes, but we’ll keep our relationship. I love you, and that’s a forever promise.” He grabbed my wrist to caress his finger on the ink that sealed his vows.

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery. Never quite buried.

The next two years were not easy ones.

The plans we had for our future never made out of paper and conversations, because the whole situation never seemed to get better.

When Rhysand and Feyre announced that Nesta was coming to live with us, I felt like all the blood in my body freezed. Mor tried to help with the situation, proposing other ways to deal with her, since she was the only one to know, but her efforts had no success.

And once she started living with us, Cassian’s feelings got harder and harder to hide.

“Did you lose a bet with one of your brothers?” I asked one night. A smile already pulling up my lips at the thought of it.

“No, why?” He seemed confused.

“This one is new.” I traced my finger at the new ink on the end of his spine.

His whole demeanor changed when I said that. And he was quick with putting a shirt to sleep, a thing that he never does.

“What is it for?” I asked, scared for the answer.

“Nothing important.” He said going to bed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You shit-talked me under the table. Talking rings and talking cradles. I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all.

I quickly got up the couch in our room once Cassian opened the door.

“Hey, are you ok? Rhys told me that you three found a Kelpie, anyone got hurt?”

I rushed in his direction. My eyes scan his body for any scratch.

And then I felt the smell, like a slap in my face, making me stop in my tracks.

“No… No, you didn’t.” I started to go backwards. My vision started to get blurry with tears forming.

“I can explain.”

“Oh, yes.” I said with a sarcastic laugh. “Please explain to me why you had sex with another person while you’re married.”

“Don’t make this even harder for me.”

“Hard for you? Have you ever thought about how hard this situation is for me?” Tears were going down my face copiously. “I gave you an option, Cassian. Two years ago I asked if you would like to end things, for the sake of us both. And you said no, you said that we’ll keep going with our marriage, we had to try. But did you tried?

We had plans, Cass! It’s been fifty six years. We talked about buying our home, having kids! It’s been two years since you said for us to keep going but honestly we just stopped in our tracks.”

“Don’t do this to me. You know how much I wanted a family. You know how much I love you. But do you know how hard it is to fight this feeling? I feel like I’m going mad.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I made myself so open for you to seek your happiness, whether it was with me or not. But today you chose to cheat on me, and that hurts more than if you called to end things.”

Are they second-hand embarrassed that I can’t get off the bed? ‘Cause something counterfeit’s dead

It’s been three weeks since Nyx borned.

With everything happening no one had time to process what happened properly. Rhys and Feyre immediately offered to let me stay in the River House with them. But I had to find my own way again, and after many days of not leaving my room, I was on my way towards the High Lord’s office.

“Hello, what a relief seeing your face again. How are you feeling?” He asked once I sat on the chair in front of his table.

“A bit better. Still a long way to go, though. How’s your almost a month of being a father?”

“It’s less tiring than doing this office work, I promise.” I laugh at his words, the first one in days. “But Feyre is definitely more tired than me, I try to help her all I can.”

“I came to say goodbye. It’s time for me to go to my own place, I’ll see Feyre after this.”

“Did you find a place in the city? We told you that you could have the Town House.”

“I actually decided to go back to Day Court. I already talked with Helion.” I said and a shocked expression appeared on Rhysand’s face.

“If you think we’ll pick a side and that you’re not welcome here, you’re completely wrong. You are part of this family.” He says with a serious face.

“It’s nothing of that. I just think that I need some space and time to clear my mind of everything. I’m so grateful for all of you, but I need to do this for myself. I’ll be available for any help you need, though.”

It was legendary. It was momentary. It was unnecessary. Should’ve let it stay buried

Mor wanted us to have our last drink at Rita’s together. So here we are, at one of the tables with our drink in our hands.

“It surprises me that the vows mark stay there.” She said looking at my wrist. I look at it too.

“Love can come in different ways, and he didn’t specify.” We both laugh.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop loving you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him either.”

“I’m sorry.” She said and I gave her a confused look. “You were right all those years ago, about him finding a soul match.”

“Unfortunately, I was.”

“Why a firefly?”

“I always asked myself this. But now with the outcome, I think it makes sense. Wanna know a fact about fireflies? They only live about 56 days. And our marriage lasted 56 years.”

Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye

“Hi.” I said when I saw Cassian make the corner of the living room. “I’ll be quick. Just didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

“Go?” His brows scrunched.

“I’ll go back to Day Court.”

“You don’t have to.” He says surprised. His body came closer like he was ready to stop me.

“I know. I want to. I’ll visit after some time, I have to see Nyx growing up afterall.”

“You have to see everyone. We’re your family.”

I’m combing through the braids of lies. I’ll never leave, nevermind

I was back in Velaris after a whole year. It wasn’t in my plans to stay away for this long. But I really needed the time.

It was Nyx’s birthday party, and I was slightly surprised that the High Lord made it only for the family. I was expecting for the most pampered baby in Prythian to have a whole festival for his first birthday, but his parents clearly had other plans.

“I loved your hair.” I heard someone beside me, and found Elain sitting on the chair next to me in the garden. “You fit the short hair really well.”

“Thanks, I had to cut it. Hair holds memories.” She only smiled at my answer and we kept observing everyone in silence.

“Did Cassian always have been good with kids?” She asked, looking at him playing with Nyx.

“Yeah, he always dreamed of having kids.”

“Well good thing his dreams are coming true, then.”

“I’m sorry?”

She looks at me wide eyed, like she just told the Night Court highest secret.

“You didn’t know? Nesta's pregnant.”

My world spinned for a moment. When I really thought I was over it. Will I ever get over it?

“If you excuse me.” I gave her a fake smile and got up to get inside.

Feyre and Mor must have seen me, because they walked behind me right after I entered the house.

“You didn’t tell me.” I turn to both of them.

“Would you come if we did?” Feyre asked and I couldn’t answer.

“I just… I thought it didn’t hurt anymore.” I started crying. And Mother, how I started hating seeming so vulnerable. “I really need to get over it.”

I felt them both hugging me. A warmth passing from their heart to mine.

“No one expects you to get over more than half a century of memories in such little time.” Mor says.

Our field of dreams engulfed in fire

“Do you think I’ll be able to find something like this again?” I ask but cut them in the middle of their thoughts. “Don’t answer, I’m scared of what it will be.”

The only thing they could do was hug me harder and stay there with me for the whole ten minutes that allowed me to have a weak mind.

And I still see it, until I die. You’re the loss of my life.

#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian imagine #rhysand x reader #mor x reader #feyre x reader

205 notes · View notes

thedeviltohisangel · 5 months ago

Text

All The Things I Did (Interlude): Wave Goodbye to the End of the Beginning

a/n: ahhhh it is here! i am so freaking excited to do this little band of brothers crossover with cass. we have all been dreaming of what her friendship with nix would look like and i am happy to report that it is phenomenal. this is most certainly not the last we will see of him because i know for a fact that a night of him and john drinking together can only end in debauchery and we should all be able to experience that for ourselves. side note...what other characters should we explore? part of me wants to write a full cass x ron speirs BoB au? not sure. let me know and i love youuuuuuu

The room was more full of soldiers than she had been used to recently. Thorpe Abotts had been shrinking, slowly but surely, with each and every mission. The hole in her heart growing and growing before it tore to shreds with the loss of her husband. All her days were spent working on ways to get him back. To leverage her capability to get to the camp as a way to get him out of the camp. A man like John was not built to be caged and she would be damned if she let it go on any longer than it already had.

“Jesus Christ, it had to be you?” Cass smiled as she turned away from the pot of burnt coffee and took in the sight of the one and only Lewis Nixon.

“I’m just getting a cup of coffee, Nix. Not sure what Jesus has to do with it.” She put the cup down just in time for his hug, the smell of an old friend comforting her in a way she hadn’t known since London.

“Of all the intelligence officers in the entire Army Air Force…it’s good to see you, Coop.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, he noticed, and she pulled him back in for another hug. This one tighter and almost sadder. Like she was asking him to confirm she was here and she was okay. “We got a lot to catch up on?” Lew could almost tell by the way she was carrying herself that she had experienced the gamut of war over in England. Had already learned what it was like on the frontlines before he had even suited up to jump and join in.

“More than a lot.” She looked over to the maps that were covered in canvas until the briefing was set to begin. “But I think we’ve got an invasion of the European mainland to learn about first,” she muttered.

“Didn’t ever think we’d see the day.” Nixon drank from a flask and Cass smirked.

“The boys need this. Hope that it will end soon.” Lew noticed the way she was playing with her necklace, it looked like a ring, and had a hauntingly far away look in her eyes with her words.

“You got someone to bunk with?” He led her towards two empty chairs in the back of the room and sat next to her, arm slung casually over the back of her chair.

“If I say no, does that mean you are going to offer your company?” Having already known how this was going to go, Cass had a few bottles of Vat 69 in her suitcase. Nix may have been surprised to see her but she had done her research.

“Because we didn’t have a blast in DC a few summers ago? Don’t you remember how hard you laughed while swimming in the reflecting pool? You even let me hold you while we watched the sunrise.” Lewis Nixon had first met Cassandra Cooper at a seminar in Washington, DC for all recent intelligence course graduates. It had served the purpose to prepare them for their transition to the life of espionage before they shipped out. One last weekend of an air of normalcy before everything changed forever.

“That is the perfect reason as to why I would be apprehensive about sharing a hotel suite with you this weekend, Nix! I can’t afford to get into any more trouble than I’m already in.” The lights dimmed and he had to swallow his question.

“What kind of trouble?” he whispered. “Can’t be that bad if you’re a Captain now.” Cass looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I’ll tell you when you buy me a nice dinner tonight.”

“Now we’re making bargains?” Someone coughed a few rows behind them.

“I’m getting soup and salad and dessert.” Partially, they had bonded over the family legacies that they had run from but knew were still waiting for them at home. For that reason they both knew they could afford whatever kind of luxurious night on the town that they could find.

“You’ll tell me everything that has happened since we last spoke? Not a single detail spared?”

“Just ask if I got laid in England, Nix, it’d be easier.” He laughed out loud and the entire room shushed them. Cass snuggled deeper into her seat with a smirk as the canvas in front of them was finally illuminated and an officer stepped out to brief them.

“Ladies and gentleman, the ground invasion of Europe is here.” Everyone cheered but Cass wanted to cry. Why couldn’t it have come sooner? Why couldn’t it have come sooner to prevent the need for John to go on that last mission? The map revealed landing points along the coast of Normandy, France. She was already calculating how long it might take them to reach Germany. How long it might take them to reach the POW camps. Every calculation came back that it wasn’t soon enough. That she would have to do this herself if there was any hope of saving John. And she would need to move quickly. The minute American soldiers landed on the shores of Normandy, the SS would take control of the camps.

“Well? You impressed?” Nix asked as he held the door open for her, leading her out onto the streets of the English countryside.

“Sure. Quite the orchestral undertaking.”

“Dinner?” he asked as he offered her his arm.

“Yes. Dinner.”

----

True to their bargain, Cass spared no expense when ordering. In turn she had answered all of his questions as best he could. What had happened to that fiance that she ran from? Had she gotten to fly in a B-17? Was she really the girl on that mission to Berlin? He stayed away from the ring on her neck. From the circumstances of her promotion and relocation. The last name on the registration paper that wasn't Cooper.

“Tell me, Coop. What’s it like being in Moscow? Soviets planning to take us out with the Krauts?” She dabbed at her mouth politely as she chewed her bite of steak.

“It’s busy. They have me doing a lot of internal things. Not a lot of mainland travel but I’m trying to get back there.” Soon.

“You really are fascinating, Coop. Southern belle from so much money it could make the angels weep. Gives it all up to become a spook. Lands in Berlin before the paratroopers and gets a cushy yet high profile gig in Moscow and wants to scoff at it because she prefers the mud.” He made her sound better than she deserved. Her family money wouldn’t get John back. She had to fall back on her intangibles. The skills that she had always had, before OSS school, and that they had just taught her to weaponize. Once this conference was all over she would have the time to practice with them and sharpen them and get ready to wield them at the gates of the Stalag.

“You want to ask about the ring,” she remarked as her eyes stayed glued to her mashed potatoes.

“I’m curious. But it’s not on your finger, leads me to believe the man on the other side of it isn’t with you anymore. Yet you have it on a chain around your neck which means you parted amicably, still in love even. There are only two ways that happens. And neither of them are good dinner table conversation.” Cass had to admit she was impressed. His logic and skills of deduction were impressive especially when you considered the sheer amount of whiskey he had consumed since she bumped into him at the coffee table alone.

“And you told me you learned nothing while you were in Maryland,” she teased as she stabbed a green bean with her fork and pointed it in his direction. “He’s not dead. I’ll take that thought right of your head.” If anyone thought about it then that would give it life. Allow it to fester like an unattended wound. Cass would allow no such thing to happen.

“So the worse option then. Captured.” It was oddly comforting for him to acknowledge that it was the worse option. An odd sense of validation from an old friend blooming in her chest.

“Yeah. But like you said. Not dinner table talk.” He nodded in agreement and was back to tucking into his dinner. “I don’t have a roommate. But I do have a few bottles of Vat 69.” Life was breathed back into Lewis Nixon in an instant.

“God, I fucking love you.” They continued to laugh around dinner and she forced her stomach to compensate for the chocolate cake but then guilt started creeping in. Guilt that she was enjoying this time and living this life and it wasn’t with John. They should have been able to live these joyous moments together. “Ready?” Nix was standing and grabbing her blazer from the coat hook.

“Lew, if the tab is too much, just say so. No need for us to dine and dash.”

“Handed them cash on the way in. It’s taken care of, Coop.” Her cheeks heated as he helped her arms into the jacket. “Someone’s gotta take care of you while the other half of that ring is out of commission.” His arm was around her shoulder and he pulled her in close.

“He is very protective and very jealous. I’d be careful if I were you,” she cautioned as they walked towards the hotel in sync.

“Tell me about Mr. Cassandra Cooper.” Cass tugged the hand that was resting on her shoulder tighter around her.

“He’s a pilot from Wisconsin. Joined before Pearl.” Lew hummed in acknowledgement. “Has a mustache,” she added with a smile.

“Always saw you ending up with a mustached man.” She laughed, working her way through the hotel lobby and towards the elevator. “Sit tight. My bags are with the desk.” While waiting, her hand unconsciously drifted to grab the ring around her neck. If she focused long enough, she would almost feel it burning her palm. On particularly lonely nights she would run it down her cheeks and feel wisps of his fingers. Press it to her lips and feel the way he would whisper how much he loved her. It was exhausting to be without her other half. The piece of him that resided inside of her trying to reach him. Stretching herself thin and wearing down to the bone with the effort it took.

“How’s Kathy?” she asked when Lew got back.

“Fine,” he shrugged, “we fight over the dog a lot.”

“The dog?”

“Why? You and Mr. Mustache a picture of peace and tranquility?” His arm held the elevator doors open as she stepped inside and pressed the button that said eight.

“Major Mustache to you, Lieutenant.” Pulling her own rank on him would feel ridiculous. “And our play fighting and bantering is what gets me out of bed in the morning. Or…got me out of bed in the morning.” Now the only thing that fueled her was her plot for revenge. She was half tempted to throw a lit match into the camp and see how far that got her.

“Major. Your mother won’t be upset he isn’t a Colonel? General, even.” Harding flashed across her eyes quickly.

“She’ll be upset he isn’t a politician or a banker or a lawyer or some other traditionally pleasant profession. And she’ll be even further incensed when she learns I got married in London without her permission.” Just past the open doors, her shoes were kicked off angrily as she stalked towards the crate in the corner. “Bottle or glass?” Nix weighed his options.

“Bottle.” The one in her left hand went to him and the other went to her mouth. “It’s that kind of night?”

“That kind of year.”

----

They lost track of time as they finished their bottles and decided to share another one. They were on the floor, pillows under their heads as they looked up at the peeling paint of the ceiling.

“When this is all over, I need to meet this Major of yours. We can meet in Chicago or New York or bumfuck middle of nowhere. We can get drunk just like this and be fucking happy.” Cass smiled and laughed as he fumbled to try and light his cigarette.

“John will love that. We’ll still be married but you and Kathy…” Nix groaned.

“Kathy.” He handed it to her once he finally managed to capture it in the flame. “Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, Coop.”

“I don’t like being away from him. I don’t feel like myself when he isn’t with me.” She absent-mindedly played with the ring that was resting against her chest. “I was so close to getting him out of there. He was in my arms…I just couldn’t get him on the damn horse. I wasn’t strong enough to get him out and now they have him caged.” A tear snuck out of the corner of her eye and she wiped it away harshly.

“Cass,” Nix set the bottle to the side and opened his arms up to her, “your love is going to survive this. Whatever version of you makes it out of here and whatever version of him makes it out of there are going to be so fucking in love I am going to be sick.” She snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Do you think they’ll fire me if I get myself thrown in a POW camp on purpose?” He’d warn her against it if he thought it would make a difference.

“Well, walk me through the tradecraft. Do it right, they’ll never know.” When she sat up, she looked more alive than she had in awhile.

“One of the guards has a very sick mother…”

The rest of the night was spent with her walking him through her plan. The network she had built to get her to the edge of the camp in the first place, the vulnerabilities she had found within the ranks of the guards to get her husband brought to her when required and the web she was weaving to get past the fence and into the barracks. He challenged the motivations of the guards. Challenged the security of her assets along the path. Offered her perspectives on a cover story and made sure she was emphatically aware of the danger she was taking on by enacting this plan.

“I can’t think of anyone more qualified in recklessness to take this on, Captain,” he said as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. “He’s one lucky fucking bastard to have a girl willing to do this for him.”

“I’m the lucky one. He’s given me a home. Something to look forward to and a place to feel safe while doing it.” She laughed with no humor behind it. “That future…he’s the only one I want it with. Any other version and it isn’t worth it.” He heard the meaning behind her words. If this was her last mission, she would be going out exactly the way she wanted to. Cass was not meant to live without John. And she didn’t plan on doing so either.

“As if I needed another reason to want Hitler dead. Now I have to add your love story to the list.” Nix rolled his eyes but there was nothing but love in them.

“Oh, have you heard the tale of Princess Spook?”

“Does she have a dashing advisor named Sir Nix?”

“Not yet but she can.”

Saying goodbye to him hurt in a way she couldn’t describe. The time spent with him shielding her from the pain and suffering that her reality had to offer her. It had felt good to talk to someone about John and not have to comfort them. Not have to recognize their pain in losing him as well. To share her thoughts and have him listen and provide solutions and not try to dissuade her from the path she was on. It was the first time she had been able to let her guard down in a long while. It would be her last chance to do so for many months.

Cass waved goodbye from the door of her train until it pulled away and Nixon was a speck on the horizon. She stayed there and looked in the same direction until the wind whipped too cold. And as she did everytime the breeze kissed her cheeks, she imagined it was John. And she kissed her fingertips and held them to the wind with a message in the hopes it would return her sentiments in kind.

I love you, John.

I love you.

#lewis nixon #lewis nixon fanfiction #lewis nixon x oc #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #john egan #john egan fanfiction #john egan x oc #masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #ron livingston #cass and bucky

48 notes · View notes

sunkissedscribbles · 4 months ago

Text

Prejudiced - Chapter Six

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

a/n: GUYS this is my favourite one so far, i had so much fun with this. was listening to meddle about by chase atlantic while writing the first part of it. enjoy<3

word count: 3297

tw: um probably swearing, cassie getting a little carried away, mention of sex

summary: cassie finally breaks and tells kiara what’s been bothering her but as always, things only get even more complicated when she tries to apologize to mattheo.

dividers by @chachachannah

As dramatic as it might sound, I spend my Sunday morning locked away in my room in fear after what I've done. Thoughts regarding my stupidity rush through my brain, not leaving me a split second to think about anything else. If I were able to think of something else, I'd be thinking about how big of a genius I was for doing my homework yesterday. But there's no time, nor enough capacity in my brain to keep my mind off that kiss. Almost kiss — it wasn't a real kiss. It was just a little peck on the lips, wasn't it? Like a friendly smooch.

But friends don't kiss each other's lips, I remind myself.

Damnit. Why do I always have to prove no one can fool with me? Mattheo was just teasing, no harm was done by that, and I was an idiot, there's no denying that one.

An hour into me rushing into my dorm dramatically, shoving past fellow Gryffindors who must've thought I've given in to the stereotypes, declaring I'm a psychopath like my aunt and other ancestors by how I was behaving, Kiara knocks on my door. One thing is for sure about her; she does not know personal space, and she never knocks. But now, I think she knows it's different. I've pushed it too far. But wasn't I just responding to Mattheo?

No. It was outright the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life.

"Cass. I'm coming in," my best friend's voice echoes through the wooden door, seconds later she's sitting on my bed next to me, awkwardly patting my head as I cry, and unintentionally finding humour in her way of comforting people, I let out a brief laugh, followed by a big sob as I lay my head into her lap.

"I've ruined it, Ki. I-I... he won't ever-" I must stop to gather my thoughts for a moment. "He won't forgive me for this. I'll be the reason we part. Us five."

Kiara just listens for a while, gently caressing my hair as a way of comfort. "I'm so sorry-y," I sob and she immediately starts hushing me. "It's not your fault. You didn't ruin anything. If I were him, I would've enjoyed it," she reassures me. But I can only think of one thing.

"So, he didn't? He said I kissed badly?" I let out another big sob and she smacks my forehead lightly, not to cause me any pain.

"Fuck off. I bet you're a great kisser."

"But-"

"No buts. You are and you know it too. Plus, it wasn't even a real kiss."

To that, I respond with heavier cries. Because she's right.

"My first kiss wasn't even a kiss. And it wasn't real either," I bury my face into her thigh, but she makes me look at her by commanding me to do so.

"Why'd you do it?"

I shrug and shake my head, my voice trembles as I speak and it's barely above a whisper as I can feel my throat tighten with guilt, "I don't know."

After a few minutes, I sit up and start to play with the gold ring on my finger.

"I-I guess I let my frustration take the best of me," I let out a sharp, breathy exhale and run a hand through my hair before continuing. "And... he was right there. And I guess I just wanted to, you know..."

"...Kiss someone?" she helps me out patiently, speaking calmly, to that, I nod. I now realize how stupid and childish it sounds. And Ki sees right through me if I haven't been embarrassed enough for today.

"But it's not only that, is it?"

I look away and shake my head. "No."

"Talk to me. You know I'm right here."

To that, my blood starts to boil again because how would she understand? She's got everything, all the experience and what've I got? Fear of not being enough, fear of running out of time and missing out on life.

"I'm running out of time, Ki. I haven't had my first kiss yet and you have already lost your virginity-"

"It comes in different times for everyone, Cass. Don't compare us."

"I know! I know it does and that I shouldn't, but I can't, okay? Not when all of you are smoking, drinking, attending all those parties where you leave me alone, you and Theo to do that, Mattheo to dance with a girl who's not at all like me, and Enzo not even turning up! And then no one notices I've left. Not even Matt who's been there with me after you two left. Maybe I'm doing something wrong-"

"You aren't."

"-or maybe the problem is with me but I'm not feeling well, for fuck's sake," I blurt out, and my voice trembles while another tear is running down my cheek unstoppably.

Kiara just looks at me with an expressionless face and she nods. She knows. I freeze. She knew this whole time...? Does she know about my problems with my body image too?

She waits for me to continue but I don't. I just turn the conversation back to the topic.

"And now I kiss this twat. All because you three don't know when to stop teasing and because I don't know where to draw that fucking line, okay? I'm a horrible person and my actions will cost a whole friend group. I'm so fucking sorry that I can't be a better fucking person," I spit furiously. It's not Kiara I'm angry of — it's me, my unspoken feelings, and the world that got me this enraged.

In the end, she gets me to calm down. It takes some time but that's enough for me to go down to the Slytherin common room and apologize to the curly-haired boy.

I watch the scene escalate the second I step into the common room. For a moment, I freeze to make sure I'm not hallucinating. I see two boys fighting in the Muggle way, throwing punches.

"You fucking moron," I hear Enzo's voice echo through the space and his voice bounces back off the cold stone walls of the castle as he hits Mattheo back. The other students are only watching the scene before their eyes, rooting for either boy to win. Enzo already has a black eye and Mattheo bruised lips, from where Enzo's fist last found him.

A few seconds later I take the initiative and getting Blaise Zabini, — whom I learn from the fight's about some girl — and another Slytherin student to help me separate the boys, they hold a raging Lorenzo Berkshire back as I pull the other delinquent, Mattheo back. But it doesn't help at all. Where are Ki and Theo when they're needed?

Even when telling Mattheo those sweet lies of how it's alright, how it's not worth fighting, he doesn't stop but nor does Enzo. It takes all my physical strength to shove Mattheo under a cold rain of water in the Slytherin bathroom when his dark eyes don't seem to soften and my words do not look like they're helping, at all.

"Look at me!" I demand. The cold water's dripping from Mattheo's hair, hitting his face like a heavy London rain in the summer, and soaking the both of us' clothes. When he finally meets my gaze, his eyes remain darkened but now, with another emotion, apart from anger it isn't violent, it's just aggressive. Lust, desire.

He pushes me against the wall of the shower, keeping me steady sandwiched between him and the cold bathroom tiles with his hips as his fingers dig into my waist, making a small grunt escape my lips. Not even a millisecond later, his lips press aggressively against mine, not caring that they're bruised because of that punch delivered by Enzo. I need a second or two to realize what the fuck is happening right here, like damn, I'm being kissed by Mattheo Riddle, but then I warm up against his lips and reciprocate the kiss. He kisses deeply, aggressively, and not at all hiding his lust, but this is what's so beautiful about it. My hands wander up his back until they reach his wet curls — might I mention we're still standing under the cold shower. I pull on his hair here and there while my fingers rake through his locks, causing a few low growls to leave his throat and as a response, his hands travel lower onto my hips, and they slowly make their way to grab onto my butt. To this, my head snaps back, against the cold wall and Mattheo's lips trace a line of kisses along my jaw, making their way and stopping on my neck but not at all draw an end to the kissing. His one hand remains on my ass but the other finds its way to the hem of my long-sleeve and travels under it to tease the soft skin of my stomach. The second his palm presses against my wet skin I let out a gasp and Mattheo's lips find their way back to mine while he groans as a response to the pleasure and excitement that we're both feeling right now. I tug on his curls again, following his lead of aggression while his one hand starts travelling further up my body under my top. My breathing's shallow and it as well as my heartbeat are uncontrolled and rapid as a sense of euphoria washes over my whole being that is right now only dedicated to the boy kissing me. His hand, though, stops right before reaching my breasts and after one last kiss, to my dismay, he pulls back from me, and after staring at me with those chocolate eyes in which lust has just been replaced by regret, he steps away, and giving me no reaction time, he turns around and storms out of the bathroom. I stare at the shut door for a few seconds, digesting what had happened just now. Then, I turn the water off with a disappointed look in my eyes, and with a longing ache in my heart and in dripping wet clothes, I make my way to Kiara's dorm.

Disappointed, crushed, destroyed — this is how I would describe my mood after the kiss we've shared with Mattheo under the shower. Not because it happened, though, more of it ever ending; even if it sounds cliché. Over the days following the kiss, I find myself thinking about it, maybe even more than I should, as well as I find myself staring at the curly-haired boy in question over the classrooms, again, more than I should, as I'm trying to figure my feelings out. If I even like him, or it's just the mental image of us, and how we shared a moment. How he satisfied my five senses; the taste of his lips that I can still recall, being met by his lustful eyes that would make me weak in the knees, the feeling of his hands wandering, grazing my skin as they made it their personal mission to explore every inch of my body, the scent of how his cologne mixed with his shampoo as the running water washed everything together, and hearing the sound of our greedy kisses and the sounds he made, driven by pure desire. I wanted a kiss? Well, I got it. But I might have lost a friend as well. I don't fancy him — I can't fancy him.

He doesn't talk to me. Not a word is spoken between us for days, but I know for sure he's approached Theo the same way I did Kiara. "I did something bad, something extremely horrible," this is how I stormed into Ki's dorm on Sunday, clothes dripping with water, on the verge of crying and panicking.

It's one thing he doesn't talk to me and doesn't even try to get in touch. But it's another that Enzo now officially despises us both. Because I also learned it's my fault they'd got into that fight. Because I 'kissed' Mattheo. The kiss that morning that I referred to as a 'friendly smooch.' Well, this second one for sure wasn't an innocent little smooch on the lips. And why does that bother Enzo; I spent too much time thinking about it, looking for an answer. According to Kiara, Theo, and even the twins, he likes me, but in my opinion, maybe he only wanted to protect me from, well, the monster people claim Mattheo to be. But from Ki and Theo's constant teasing back when everything was alright, I doubt I'd be right with the second option. Which is bad. Horrible. Horrible, because I love Enzo, okay? But not at all romantically. Enzo is the guy I'd live together and adopt 60 cats with, taking care of them as platonic cat parents, not the guy I see myself falling for.

So, now my entire friend group is falling apart, all because of me.

And it goes like this, everyone drifting away and the only mutual connection being Theo and Ki, for three weeks. What happens after three weeks, you might wonder. Kiara and Theo, the two kind souls deciding it's time for Mattheo and me to make up ("Make ou- up, I mean. One way or another, him on top, or you, I don't care. I've had enough of this bickering," if I may quote Kiara's words) for what happened. As a solution, we arrive at the present day; they shove us into a broom closet and lock the door until we're done having a heart-to-heart.

"So..." Mattheo's voice is unsteady, so he clears his throat.

I've been thinking about this a lot; about what we should do if he ever were to talk to me again. And I've come to a sensible conclusion.

"Can we forget about it?"

"Let's be more," Mattheo says right when I blurt my suggestion out. And because we're talking at the same time and since I'm focusing on saying the right words, I hear my words louder than his, thus I don't understand what he says.

"Sorry," we mutter at the same time. "You start," I pass him the ball.

"No, you," to that, I sigh and nod.

"I said let's forget about it. We'd just ruin the whole group and there's the Enzo problem too. We were just... acting on a whim, weren't we?" I offer an apologetic smile and to that, his eyes become a little colder and his muscles tense up in his whole body, all too perceptible as I see his facial features change, his muscles twitching underneath the soft skin I'd like to touch the way I did three weeks ago.

Fuck, Cassie, stop this.

"Yeah. I was thinking the same," he nods. I'm not even able to read his expression because of the cold eyes he's giving me. He's shutting down again. Oh, I know for a fact he's a Pisces moon.

"Mattheo," I frown, "have I said something wrong?"

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, his exterior softening. "No, you haven't."

Before I could ask him if he's sure about that, the snickering from the other side of the door catches my ear and I immediately forget that I've even wanted to ask anything. And our broom-closet-duo is supplemented by a cursing Enzo who stumbles in by being pushed in by two pairs of hands.

The second he notices us, he becomes defensive, having his arms crossed in front of his chest and his expression dark and hardened. "Am I interrupting something?" he asks coldly, clearly hurt as his sarcastic words ring in the tight space. He can't even look at me — he's only staring into Mattheo's eyes, coldly as never before. Then, after a few seconds, he looks at me and speaks bitterly. "Or is one guy not enough for you?"

The muscles in my face all tense up at his sarcastic remark. I see the twitch in Mattheo's fists — he'd jump right at Enzo and start another fistfight. Enzo's words though, in me, cut deep, and now I'm just becoming more sure that Kiara and Theo have been right about how Enzo might like me. Might. May. Must do so. And I want to shovel dirt on me and bury myself alive.

"Can't we talk this through?" I suggest in a hurt tone.

"I'm not having this discussion with this in the room," Enzo spits bitterly with a straight back, clearly referring to Mattheo. And again, I'd like to turn the time back to where I messed it all up by acting on a whim when I gave Mattheo that smooch the morning after his nightmare.

"Neither do I," Mattheo claims through gritted teeth, glaring at Enzo while trying to hold his disruptive anger back.

"If you want a threesome, not with him," Enzo shoots back and before I can even respond, a fist is thrown in his direction, followed by a grunt from Enzo.

I try to pull Mattheo back but there's no use. I make my mind up — if I can't get them off each other by my hands, I'm gonna do it by wand. I grab the vine-wood wand from my back pocket and point at them both. "Immobulus," I say in a relatively calm tone that covers my frustration, watching as a blue light flashes from the tip of my wand, freezing the wrestling boys in their movements.

"Let's keep it short," I start in an annoyed voice as I glare down at the boys, the frustrated, almost angry undertone growing upon my words the more I go on. "Have I kissed Mattheo? Yes, I have. But it has nothing to do with Enzo. I'm friends with both of you, nothing more, and less only if you two keep this bickering shit up. You are my best friends, you are my only family, but if you can't appreciate it, then I guess we should call this off. We're all hurting and I know I made a bloody mistake, but we are hurting Kiara and Theodore too with what we've been doing in the past weeks. You two have to get over this, and I have some unfinished business with both of you, but I can only do that if you finally listen to me. And if you actually have some intelligent thoughts in those shrunken brains of yours still, let me know. And stop fighting over childish nonsense, finally. We're not in nursery school anymore, for Salazar's bollocks!"

Okay, saying I'm in a mood is an understatement, I have to agree on that one. But who wouldn't react similarly in a situation like this? Or I do have gone mental — and if that's the case, I'll have to apologize to Hermione.

I'm still looking at the boys lying on the floor under the effects of the Freezing Charm, and I can only hope their brains could process my previous rant — but after a few more seconds, I do the counterspell on the arses of the bloody morons.

They sit up and do a little shake of their hands, both looking at me as if they saw the basilisk, neither of them saying a word but they get up eventually.

I cross my arms in front of me and glare at them. "Shake hands."

"What?" they ask in unison.

"Do it. Shake hands. And get over this shit."

Reluctantly, but they do it, exchanging angry, frustrated gazes, then they both look at me. I have no intention of talking about what happened between either of them and me, not like this, when they're both present — that wouldn't do much good to anyone. All I say is "Sorry," and they mutter a "Me too."

thanks for reading it, and don't foget to comment if you'd like to be on the tag list<3

tag list: @reyys-letters @mqstermindswift @inksoakedparchment

33 notes · View notes

thatmadshifter11 · 7 months ago

Text

The Shadowsinger and The Mistress of Love and Lust Pt.2

As the first rays of dawn break over the horizon, I finally allow myself to rest, leaning against him, our bodies entwined. His once bloody and torn wings are now starting to heal, the skin slowly knitting itself back together. There's still a long way to go, but we've made it through the night, and that's a victory in itself. I let myself relax against the man who I had loved for centuries the one who is now my mate, we haven't even gotten to talk about it the way we are bound to each other. To be completely honest I don’t know if I should even be sleeping beside him since he has said nothing to me other then “Mate” that doesn't mean he accepts it but it also doesn't mean he doesn’t.

I close my eyes, allowing the exhaustion to take over. But even as I drift off, I know that when I wake, I'll be ready to face another day, to continue the fight, to heal and protect my mate. I also know that he will do the same for me even if he doesn’t accept the Bond because that is just the type of man he is one with a heart. You may not be able to tell under all the brooding and shadowy exterior but he is one of the kindest most genuine men I have ever met.

His soft whisper rouses me from my sleep, "Thank you, Cici," and I squeeze his hand in response, and blush lightly noticing our proximity and the way we are both covered in his blood. “uh how about a bath?” I ask easing up from the bed moaning my exhaustion taking over me. Before my pain fully takes over I could’ve swore he said something about how he’d only take one if I joined him. I feel my old scars they are sore and my eyes are slowly lose their sight. I think quickly and using the last of my strength I winnow to Cassian and Nesta’s tent. “Cass? Nes?”

I stumble in blindly bumping into a wall- wait not a wall my best friend, Cass! “Cia are you alright?” he asks shaking me lightly and looking me over. “Where's Az is he ok” he asks frantic. “H-he's fine but I need help,” I say shakily. “My powers are weak and without anything to refuel them before I'm done with Az….” My eyes are welling up with my bloody gold tears and I let them fall.

Cass scoops me into a warm, brotherly hug. I hear Nesta approach, “What do you need to refuel?” she asks me and I can’t help but assume she is crossing her arms like I have watched her do for years when she gets curious. I smile, my senses and skills really show when I'm blind it almost makes me want to stay this way, but I will miss colors and glitter being able to see my family's smiling faces.

“Blood,” my voice shaky as I say it. Nesta huffs and hear footsteps shuffling around next thing I know I loose the presence of my best friend and I'm left myself. I can’t help but let my tears fall. I hear them again and Nesta approaches me grabbing my hands. “Eris said he’ll help he said he's done it before,” she says in a hushed tone.

Which brings me back to the time I spent with Eris camped in a cave hiding from threats, as he survived on animals we killed and my powers keeping him afloat as I kept myself replenished with his strong High Fae blood. He was the first High Fae I had ever drunken from. He allowed me to keep drinking from him as long as he stayed strong and healthy we survived 4 months out in the wilderness that way.

“Where is he?! I need it now,” I say agitated wanting to get back to my mate. “He is going to the healing tent to gather supplies,” “Alright thank you so much Nes,” I said leaning up to give her a kiss on the check which ends up rather sloppily on her ear. She laughs, a sound I haven’t heard from her in awhile. Eris helps me and gives me a few bags of fresh blood so I don't have to wonder around like that again. I rush back to Az fully recharged and ready to help him as much as I can.

24 notes · View notes

nerdasaurus1200 · 7 months ago

Text

Cassie, Gleam and Glow

The story of how the gang found out Cass glows in the dark!

“Hey Varian? Next time we go somewhere where you think you might’ve double crossed someone from your Mad Alchemist days…do us a favor and tell us.” Lance wheezed as the gang finally stopped running.

“In my defense, it didn’t help that you and Eugene stole from the Sultana.” Varian pointed out.

“Well, on the bright side at least we got away.” Rapunzel tried to cheer them up.

Eugene leaned on Rapunzel so he wouldn’t fall over, “On the negative, we’re probably banned from Agrabah.”

“So what now? We head home?” Angry piped up.

“No, you girls need rest.” Cassandra instructed, “Luckily I was able to make a crude map of Agrabah the last time I was here. There’s a cave we can spend the night to hide out in and then we’ll take the airship back in the morning.”

“That’s our Cassie. Always so resourceful!” Varian praised.

~~~~

Deep into the night, Eugene groaned as he began to stir. He almost forgot how much he hated sleeping on rocks in the middle of nowhere. If it weren’t for the campfire, spending a night in the desert like this would truly be torture. Of course it was an even greater benefit that his beloved wife was practically a walking furnace thanks to her magic.

“Eugene? You awake?” He heard Lance whisper.

“Yeah, I’m up.” Eugene whispered back, “These rocks are killing my back. I’m gonna have to see the royal masseuse when we get back.”

“It would help if you put out that dang lantern.” Lance muttered.

Eugene chuckled and rolled over, “It’s your blue lantern, you put it out.”

“Nah, it’s yours.”

“I didn’t pack a lantern.” Eugene suddenly raised his eyebrow. Both he and Lance slowly at up at the same time. Neither of them saw Varian turn on his new invention (he called it a nightlight) so where was that strange glow coming from? They looked over near the entrance of the cave and there they saw it, something humanoid eliciting an unholy blue glow. It was too bright for them to fully see what it was.

However just finding the source of the light was enough to make Lance shriek and suddenly the light flickered and rose higher. Quick as a flash everyone else was awake.

“VARIAN, GET YOUR ALCHEMY SOMETHING GOT IN!” Lance wailed.

“Lance, what are you-OOF! Ughh….wha-hey! Get out of my bag! Get off me!” Varian tried to scramble away from Lance.

“Are the girls okay?! I thought I heard them scream!” Rapunzel fretted as she went for her frying pan. Then suddenly the light spoke.

“Would you fiddlesticking calm down, I can’t hear what it was!” Cassandra yelled, and Lance let out a squeak of terror.

“It’s talking! The light is talking!” He panicked. At his words Cassandra froze, and then turned to her friends in both annoyance and realization.

“Guys. It’s me.” She deadpanned. Everyone else looked at each other in confusion as the realization dawned on them.

“I won’t lie, that’s insanely creepy.” Eugene said bluntly.

“Yeah, humans ain’t supposed to glow.” Lance agreed.

“How did this even happen?” Rapunzel asked.

“I think it’s some side effect of the moonstone. I glow in the dark now.” Cassandra explained.

“How fascinating!” Varian marveled, and moved closer to inspect her.

Angry and Catalina however didn’t move from their sleeping bags. Instead they just watched the adults gawk over Cassandra’s strange new power.

“Did they really have no idea about this?” Catalina asked, “Even Varian? She’s been back home for a month now.”

“Adults are dumb, Cat. They don’t notice stuff.” Angry shrugged, “Especially with Cass for some reason.”

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #rapunzel #cassandra #lance strongbow #varian #eugene fitzherbert #angry and red #kiera and catalina

14 notes · View notes

batstorm93672 · 2 years ago

Text

Do I Know You?

~First (Here)~ Next>>>

Damian sat and sighed as he was tied to a chair. Heaven forbid he decides to go to the Cave and only be able to take off his mask before being bombarded by his family.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?"

Batman looked at Damian and furrowed his brow "Why do you keep calling me that, how did you get in here and why are you dressed like Robin?" "I'm your son, I am Robin" "Don't lie!"

"Alright B how about we lay off the kid? Not gonna get anywhere shouting"

Nightwing walked in and handed Damian a cup of water. "Here, don't mind him. We just want to know what's going on"

"Richard you're a part of this trivial thing too? Also did you put anything in the cup?" Nightwing paused and kneeled down "Okay. We just want some answers, number one. How do you know who I am?"

"Tt. Fine I'll play. I'm Damian Wayne-" Damian jerked his head to Batman "-your son and I'm-" He looked back at Nightwing "-your brother. Alongside with Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas and not to mention the million of others father brought in as he is a magnet for taking in children"

Nightwing nodded and took off his mask "Are you a speedster from the future?" "What? Ew, no. I'm Robin" "Listen, you might be getting something confused. There are no more Robins, the last one was Tim. So where did you get the costume?" "Okay hasn't this gone on long enough? Where is Titus or Alfred the cat? Do you need them to help recognize me or something"

Dick raised a brow "I have no idea who those are"

"Tt. This is tiring"

Damian stood up, untied hands and ankles, he rubbed his wrists. "I untied myself about a minute after you tied me, I know your tricks father, you've taught everyone how to escape knots like yours. Try to get a better tactic. As for you Richard, hasn't this gone on long enough?"

Bruce took off his cowl and studied Damian carefully "He may be telling some truth. It's hard to tell, who is your parent?" "Other than you? Talia Al Ghul is my mother"

The two adults looked at each other with wide eyes. "She doesn't have a child. She told me she had a miscarriage" "Do I look like a miscarriage?"

"Dick. Call for Tim and Cass, they may be able to figure out if he's lying. In the meantime I'll look into this kid"

Damian groaned and sat back down. "Can Pennyworth at least come down? I'd enjoy his company"

"N-" "Yeah I'll get him"

Bruce narrowed his eyes making eye contact with Dick, the two had their private conversation internally and while Damian could decipher the gist of it. He didn't want to right now. This is dragging on long enough.

Bruce sighed for like the fifth time "Fine, let him come. He stays here and under surveillance. Understood?" "Hear you clear"

Bruce left and Damian eyed Dick, wouldn't they have stopped by now?

"Richard... are you still joking with me? Hasn't this gone on long enough?"

Dick looked guilty and sad "I'm sorry, but we really don't know you"

Damian looked down, recounting what he just went through moments before showing.

Someone approached him, a lady with a crystal ball typical isn't it.

"Young boy, won't you indulge this old lady?"

"I'm sorry, I can't-"

"Oh please? This is all I ask of you"

Robin nodded and came over, she was an elder and he respects them. Not to mention she would probably insist and Damian would rather not have to do that.

"Come child" Her wrinkled yet soft hands went over his gloves and she closed her eyes, she was wearing a shawl and attire of stars and eyes decorated on the cloth. "I see... you are of a great destiny. Yet though this is apparent, you are deeply troubled with choices. Leading to terrible consequences. Not to mention the loneliness you are faced with, a great destiny yet an even greater shadow. Tell me, the family you surround yourself with, do they truly see you? You have so many doubts and fears, that you will be alone and forgotten by them"

"...That sounds correct, my fears tend to obscure my view of the path ahead. I feel like one day, they will forget me. And that I'll be alone. Sometimes I wish I was forgotten so I could avoid the pain and move on with my choice without feelings" He... didn't mean to say that much, what is happening?

"Then it will be"

"Wha-"

A flash of light, recovering his vision to see no one. The lady was gone.

...Curious, it may be time I go back before they worry.

Damian kept his gaze away from Dick who was talking on the phone.

They... forgot me. They don't know me. It's like I never existed...

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #batman #nightwing #mentioned cassandra cain #mentioned alfred pennyworth #mentioned jason todd #mentioned duke thomas #mentioned stephanie brown #mentioned tim drake #mentioned talia al ghul

31 notes · View notes

not-quite-girl-nor-quite-boy · 2 years ago

Text

dean Winchester was the most prolific criminal in Kansas. His husband Castiel Novak on the other hand, was the most successful detective in the state. He had the highest arrest record in his precinct and he had held that record for over a year. Dean however was (to his colleagues) the one arrest he never could land. It was actually perfectly designed so that dean could slip away undetected without rousing any suspicion. By some miracle castiel was always sent to head up raids for dean Winchester, meaning dean always had just enough warning to make his seamless disappearance.

that morning Cass sat at his partners desk, detective Anna Milton, they were good friends but she could be a bitch sometimes. She was always passionate about how she didn't believe that the justice system was nearly strict enough. Captain uriel exited his office,

"Milton, Novak. We gotta lead on the Winchester. come on." He hailed them in. Briefed them on where he was supposed to be and they were on their way. Cass was worried he hadn't really been able to warn his husband of what was happening. He crept inside Anna on his left guns drawn. They carefully scoured each room, hallway, corridor. They heard dean's voice from around the corner and they deciphered his dialogue.

"so, why did you do it Gordon? Why did you kill those children?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"sure you do, come onnn. Was it because your were afraid they would tell someone? Tell someone of the horrific things you did to them?"

"I didn't do anything."

"bullshit. You hurt children, innocent little kids. Defenseless minors, did it make you feel strong? Powerful? Did it make 'little Gordon'" dean implied. "finally feel big?"

This is what Cass loved about Dean, why he could be with a murderer. Dean never killed the innocent, the undeserving, he was a dramatic vigilante. And he only killed those who were evil, flawed to the very foundation of their being. And dean prided himself on that fact, as did Cass.

"what are you doing? Why are you doing this?" Gordon asked.

"if I'm honest, I'm waiting for someone, he's usually here by now," Dean looked around smiling, Cass felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He calmed himself down. Anna drew his attention to her, while dean was talking. "ok, so S.W.A.T will be here in about 30 seconds and by here I mean in this room. So I say we go in now."

castiel felt his heart stop and his stomach plummet.

"S.W.A.T?" He asked, not nearly quiet enough.

"shush, and yes S.W.A.T this guy is a murderer, he kills people, how could captain not get S.W.A.T involved?" She asked rhetorically.

"ok, 3, 2, 1." She said writing the numbers on her fingers as she said them. She broke down the door Cass stood behind her, looking like a distressed child hiding behind its mother. Dean turned and smiled at Cass, looking straight past the notably attractive redhead in front of him, he saw his sad face and his face changed.

"nice to see you, boys in blue, well boy." He said flashing Anna a look

"funny." Anna said. "drop the knife and put your hands up."

"actually I think I'm gonna not, if its all the Same." She smiled sarcastically.

"actually," she mocked "its not... Knife down, hands up." Cass stepped next to her he Gave dean a troubled look, he didn't know how to enterprate it, it could have meant do as she said, something bad is gonna happen, I hate having to pretend I don't love you. Frankly Dean had no clue. He squinted at Cass, he mouthed something, swat Dean read his lips, his eyes widened, internally in a way that allowed only Cass to see the fear In his eyes. He ran to the back of the room just as S.W.A.T burst through the door they hunkered down and readied themselves to fire. Time moved In slow motion. Cass burst in front of Dean catching a bullet in the stomach, dean watched him fall, watched the intrusive bullet enter his stomach unpermitted. He screamed "NOOO." he ran forward lifting Cass in his arms before his husband lost consciousness, Cass smiled at dean.

"go" he whispered seemingly only realising the pain he was in then. "don't get caught for me. Go, I'll see later." He wheezed. Castiel passed out, Dean pushed down on his wound hard. He lifted Cass and ran out the room, unaided by anyone, miraculously he only got hit in the arm. He would live, right now Cass was the priority. He drove fast, when they arrived at their shared home, Castiel's condition had worsened he was pale and sweaty, he was bleeding alot. He carried Cass indoors, Castiel came to in Deans arms. He smiled at dean, who was panicking, for some reason though, Cass was strangely calm. He felt safe in deans arms.

"hey, morning sunshine." Dean said smiling still obviously concerned, Cass blearily watched dean take off his belt. He held it in hand.

"so, good news you're only wounded on one side, bad news that means I have to get the bullet out. Bite down on this."

he put the belt in Castiel's mouth, he bit down hard, dean fished around in his insides desperate to find the bullet as quickly and gently as possible, it didn't help Cass' screams.

"there we go, got it." He pulled it out and saw s very passed out Cass on the bed in front of him. He checked his pulse, it was there, it was weak, but he was alive.

"but why would he take a dying cop?" Anna argued.

"he was there, weak and defenseless, easy prey." Uriel said.

"sir I feel like you are overlooking the obviousness of this situation, obviously something is going on between them that we don't know about."

"we should be looking for him, why am I defending myself to you?" he stormed out of the office without another word.

hours passed and dean sat there worried, terrified for his husbands welfare. He stitched Cass up and bandaged over his wound. He just sat there waiting, looking at Castiel's chest rise and fall. He suddenly felt weak and dizzy, the adrenaline was wearing off he suspected, until he heard a faint dripping sound, he looked around enraged by the dripping. It had been a long, awful day and he was in no mood. He noticed the thick red blood dripping from his fingers, from his palms onto the hardwood floor of the bedroom. He looked in disbelief, he remembered suddenly, unable to believe he cared about anyone enough to forget: he was shot in the arm. He looked at his coat, a hole shot straight through. He took it off wincing at every movement. He was weak, he didn't know when Cass would wake so he had to fight to stay conscious or he would just bleed out, then who would help Cass? He tore the sleeve off his shirt thinking it couldn't possibly hurt as much as having to manoeuvre the shirt off, he was wrong. The sudden movement of his arm in turn made his hole body move sending out a shockwave of pain through his arm ricocheting off his veins and bones thus intensifying his pain. He bit back screams not wanting to disturb his sleeping spouse. The wound in of itself wasn't that bad, it was more the bleeding. The red fluid oozing out from beneath his skin even still, despite hours having passed. No wonder he felt so weak. He started to sew the wound shut when Cass stirred, his eyes flickered open, he grunted, the pain wearing through him. Dean immediately stopped what he was doing and scrambled to his feet and ran over to Cass. Unbeknownst to him, it tore the stitches he had done and further aggravated the wound, but that didn't matter now. Cass tried to sit up but he winced and fell back down onto the bed.

"easy, are you ok?"

"I'm fine." Cass said.

"hun, you just got gut shot, I wouldn't call you fine."

Cass chuckled. He looked his husban over and realised the this red stain trailing down his arm from his shoulder.

"are you ok?" Dean looked at his shoulder, and winced as he wssaw how bad it was.

"damn," he mumbled. "it wasn't that bad a minute ago." He stumbled

"Dean?" He weakly collapsed trying to catch himself on the bed, to no avail.

"Dean!" Cass scrambled over to Dean, miraculously he didn't pop a single stich on his way There. Dean was passed out on the floor, bleeding severely from the wound on his arm and Cass was barely able to sit. The work was cut out for him. He saw the needle dean was using earlier, he grabbed the thread and started suturing deans wound. He grunted as the needle repeatedly pierced his skin.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." Cass repeatedly said to comfort the unconscious man he loved on the floor. When he was finished he yanked the duvet and pillows off the bed so he he could sleep next to his husband, Cass wouldn't have been able to lift dean on a good day, let alone when he had a gunshot wound. He turned Deans head onto the pillow and covered him with the sheets. They fell asleep cuddled into each other on the floor.

the next morning when dean woke up he just smiled in admiration of the man he loved. He set up a bed system on the floor for dean, he had cuddled him close and he was ultimately more injured than him. Dean smiled. And kissed castiel. Who smiled. In that moment all was good, they were safe, and they were happy.

I’m sorry it’s been two months, I know there is literally no one here reading but still, apologies.

This was a little weird fpr me but the idea sort pf just struck I suppose :)

anyway hope you had fun <3

14 notes · View notes

rosanna-writer · 2 years ago

Text

this love is difficult but it's real (2/2)

Ch. 1 is here. Read on AO3 or under the readmore

Summary: Rhysand allows one hand to turn into a claw, a display of that Spring Court shifting ability Feyre's never seen up close. "Even roses have their thorns, Feyre darling."

Feyre runs a mental talon down his shields and watches him shiver ever so slightly. She snarls, baring her teeth. "I'm not your darling."

"Not yet."

A tiny part of Feyre hopes that's a promise. But mostly, she's irritated he's being an absolute prick when she's wearing a dress she can't properly fight in. She reaches for her foot, grabs the only projectile she has, and hurls her shoe at him.

Or:

Rhys is the son of the High Lord of the Spring Court and an Illyrian seamstress. Feyre is the half-wild youngest daughter of the High Lord of the Night Court. After making eyes at each other across a bonfire in Illyria, they meet for trysts in the woods that turn into something more. War with Hybern and an inter-court feud might tear them apart, but they always find their way back to each other.

Pairing: Feysand

A/N: Time for the "Hello Rhysand darling" wedding crashing chapter I built this fic around! Please note this chapter does have discussions of forced marriage.

Feyre's only been in the mountains long enough to destroy a few trees when Cassian and Azriel land in front of her. They give her a wide berth, but she's too upset to realize it's because they're worried her grip on her magic might slip completely.

"This is for you," Azriel says, tossing her a set of leathers.

Feyre catches it between her palms to avoid shredding it with her talons. She looks down at the leathers, confused. "What for?" she says.

"We saw a dark spot in the forest and figured you might need to hit something," Cassian says with a shrug.

Feyre uses her magic to shift herself into the leathers. Gods, she must be producing quite the cloud of darkness if it was visible from the air. "Thanks," she says.

Cass and Az take turns sparring with her until she gets her head on straight. The darkness fades. In between punches, she tells them all about how quickly relations between Spring and Night have gone to shit. They're also furious at being separated from their brother, and the fighting does them some good, too.

Eventually, Feyre's exhausted, out of breath, and covered in smears of mud and pine needles from all the times the Illyrians have knocked her down. But she's thinking clearly now.

There's sweat beading on her brow despite the chill wind. As she wipes it away, she says, "We're going to get him back. We're going to fix this." She's not sure if it's directed at Cass and Az, or if she's just musing aloud about the plan forming in her head. She says goodbye and winnows back to the city.

The next day, Feyre swallows her fury. She tells her father she feels she's coming into her own as an emissary and asks for a bigger role as Night's representative in other courts. He agrees.

It's her best shot at seeing Rhys again.

If she throws herself into enough diplomatic work, there's almost certainly a chance they'll be invited to the same inter-court event. And if not, anywhere else she could go in Prythian is closer to Spring, so she might be able to maintain a better mental connection there. And if they can coordinate, they can fix this.

She gets her first break on a trip to Winter to discuss a trade agreement with Viviane, who's been left to run the court while Kallias is negotiating the treaty. After a full day of discussions, Feyre sits by the fire in her room, wrapped in furs, and strokes Rhys's mind with an affectionate talon. Even though he's still faint, it's less taxing on her daemati abilities to reach him from here.

RHYS! she says, breaking into a grin even though he can't see her.

You sound closer. Where are you? he says.

Winter.

Another trip? You're well on your way to charming all of Prythian.

Feyre can't help but shake her head. She certainly doesn't feel charming. Striking a balance between coming off as intimidating enough not to mess with but friendly enough to strike a deal with isn't simple. Kallias, Viviane, and their advisors, at least, have been the easiest to understand—Winter is harsh, a bit like Illyria.

I'd find a way to charm a rabid naga if it meant getting closer to you. She can sense laughter from him, but it has a strained quality to it. Has something happened?

The Spring Court is rosy as ever.

More of that strained-sounding humor. Feyre hesitates for a moment, then says, Are you safe?

Yes. But my father has been more unpleasant than usual. He's forbid my mother from leaving the manor.

Feyre expected that—from what Rhys has said before, his father has been even more paranoid and quick to anger since the start of negotiations. But still, it's awful to hear it confirmed.

And Rhiannon?

Still lucky our father considers her beneath his notice.

As a female, Rhiannon hadn't been allowed to train in Illyria, and their father had written off the possibility that she could ever inherit. In some ways, it's for the best. Feyre now understands that it's what gave Rhiannon enough freedom to send her those letters without much fear of them being intercepted. No one treats her as a threat, even if they should.

I miss you, Rhys. I'm sorry I haven't been able to fix this.

I miss you, too. It's not your responsibility. We may be able to get my father to see reason.

Feyre doubts they'll ever be able to, only potentially strong-arm the High Lord of Spring into doing what they want. But she's not about to tell Rhys that, not when he's doing his best to hold things together.

I'll see you soon. I promise.

Her magic reserves are getting depleted, so Feyre just stays in his mind long enough to hear him say, Get some rest.

---

There's another month of feeling empty before things start to change. Feyre spends it doing everything she can to get closer to Spring and reminding herself none of this can be fixed in a day. Scraps of communication with Rhys aren't enough, but she makes do.

Treaty negotiations pause to give the High Lords a chance to handle their courts' domestic affairs before meeting again, and Feyre's sent on a diplomatic trip to Day to discuss rebuilding efforts at their shared border.

When she arrives, Helion greets her and says, "Apologies for the late notice, but this morning, Spring's emissary decided to extend his visit. Am I correct in assuming that won't be a problem?" His smile makes it obvious he thinks it's the exact opposite of a problem.

Feyre blinks. She can't understand why Helion's looking at her like she should be pleased.

"Lucien is here?" she says uncertainly. Lucien is a friend of Rhys's, exiled to Spring after leaving Autumn, but Feyre has only met him a few times.

"No," Helion says. "Rhysand will be here another week."

Feyre stills. A week is exactly the length of her trip. There's no way this was an accident. "Thank you," she says. Too stunned to ask in a way that's more subtle, she adds, "Why did you do this for us?"

"With our territories between both of yours, friendly relations between Night and Spring are a boon for everyone. Most of Prythian is rooting for you two." Helion's eyes go sad for a moment, and he continues, "And it's always a tragedy when squabbling between courts strangles young love."

Feyre understands he's speaking from experience, and it makes her heart squeeze. She also didn't realize she and Rhys had made such an impression, either—they'd really only been together outside of Illyria once. Perhaps they hadn't been nearly as subtle as they thought.

She recovers enough to act the part of the courtier again and says, "Then I hope this will be a fruitful visit."

Helion shows her the way to her rooms and leaves her to freshen up before dinner. Feyre pushes open the door to the suite and finds Rhys on the bed, arms crossed behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. "Miss me, Feyre darling?" he says.

"Not when you're putting your shoes on the bed. I thought even Illyrian brutes knew better than that," Feyre says, but there's absolutely no venom in it.

Rhys laughs as he stands up and crosses the room to meet her. "Don't tell me all this diplomatic work has finally domesticated feral Feyre."

Feyre hurries towards him, and then they're all over each other before she can get any more words out. They're both desperate to touch in any way they can. If showing up to dinner reeking of sex and each other weren't overstepping Helion's hospitality, they'd make full use of the bed.

When they break their kiss, they each pull back just enough to examine the other.

Rhys's wings are still hidden, and he's wearing another green and gold tunic. He looks filled out, healthier.

"You look like less of a ghost," Feyre says.

"I'm fully recovered and flying again," Rhys says, unfurling his wings and encircling her with them. He gives her that cocky smile she missed so much. "And because I know you were wondering, there's been no reduction in my wingspan, either."

Feyre didn't think she could smile any brighter, but she does. "And no reduction in your ego, I see."

"It's not egotistical when it's just fact that they're the largest."

That coaxes out Feyre's first real laugh in months. After all the time she spent in Illyria, she's heard more than enough bickering about wingspans to last a lifetime. She drew the line at helping Rhys, Cass, and Az hold the measuring tape.

Rhys's eyes go soft. "There were some days I didn't think I'd hear that laugh again."

If he'd said that a few months ago, she might have burst into tears, but now she feels as if they've all been wrung out of her. Being separated once was enough. Twice has burned away almost everything but her determination.

"Then let's use this week to bring you back again."

Feyre might not be the most skilled negotiator, but even she can recognize that Helion's aid is a gift they can't squander. It will be delicate work—for the two of them to be together, it will take more than just getting the High Lords of Spring and Night on the same side of this issue. There can be no lingering bitterness between their fathers.

She curls up in Rhys's lap as they debate their approach. It's unclear how much they can ask of Helion, and they're hesitant to push things too far. They consider concessions to propose or alternatives to try, but they end up talking in circles. Both of their fathers are stubborn. By the time they need to leave, they haven't made much progress.

As on edge as they both are, it still makes Feyre feel a little giddy to take Rhys's arm and walk to dinner together. He hides his wings again before leaving her room, and it warms her to know he'd unfurled them just for her today. It hurts a bit to let go of him to take her seat.

It's only the second time she's seen Rhys act solely as the elegant, suave Spring prince, and it's endlessly fascinating to her. Daemati abilities make her inherently difficult to trust, and with the image the Night Court projects to the world, fae from other courts keep her at arm's length, even allies. As a shapeshifter with a beast form, it would be easy for Rhys to fall into the same pattern. But he hides the warrior in him under petal-soft new beginnings, and it feels like she's watching him win friends in real time. No wonder Helion agreed to help them.

The inroads Rhys made before she arrived, plus his obvious high opinion of her, make Helion's advisors warm up to her. It's not even a conscious thing, but she and Rhys are working together as a team already; he's set up favorable conditions for her, and she'll use that to finish the job and ensure they get the support they need from Day—for the rebuilding efforts and all the rest.

It makes her feel like the two of them could accomplish anything together.

Rhys comes to her room shortly after everyone retires for the night, and they fall into bed together. Making love somewhere other than directly on the ground outside feels impossibly luxurious, almost like a dream.

Feyre could do without the mud, and she isn't eager to repeat the time it had started storming halfway through (even if Rhys shielding her from the rain with a wing had made her melt). But still, a part of her misses being under the stars with him.

When it's over and she curls up with her head on his chest, she can almost believe that there's nothing wrong in the world. She drifts off to sleep feeling more at peace than she has in months.

---

It only lasts a few hours, until a tidal wave of power pouring into her wakes her up. The room is full of an unnatural darkness that blots out everything, even the faelights she turns on. She gets out of bed in a panic.

"Feyre?" Rhys says, going from asleep to alert instantly. Feyre struggles to put the damper back on her power, but there's just so much of it, so much more than there's ever been. She doesn't answer Rhys, just tries her hardest to pull the darkness back. "Feyre, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Feyre braces a hand on the bedside table, nearly shaking with the effort it takes to rein the power back in. When the darkness clears enough for the faelights to cut through it, she sees Rhys look afraid for the first time.

She takes a breath to steady herself, then forces herself to say out loud what she thinks just happened, as awful as it is. "I think my father just died," she says, voice trembling. "And the magic didn't choose Nesta. It chose me. I'm now High Lady of the Night Court."

Before Rhys can respond, there's a knock at the door. Feyre can sense it's Helion, so she grabs a dressing gown and pulls it on before opening the door. She's past caring that anyone knows what she and Rhys were just up to.

Helion's grim expression is enough to confirm her suspicions. "Apologies for disturbing you so late at night, but there's been news," he says. Feyre ushers him inside, and Helion pretends not to notice that Rhys is still halfway through slipping on his shirt. "There's been a fight between your fathers. Feyre, I'm sorry to deliver the news that yours has passed, and Rhys, yours is gravely injured. My condolences."

For a half second, Feyre thinks she might vomit on Helion's feet. Her father, dead at the hand's of Rhys's—it's unthinkable. Everything is spiraling out of control, just when she thought it might actually get better. But now she has a court to run, and she can't afford to panic.

"Thank you. I need to get back to Night," she says, surprising even herself at how steady her voice sounds.

"And I'll be needed in Spring," Rhys says.

They lock eyes, and an understanding thrums between them: this might be their last night together, if not forever, at least for a very, very long time. They kiss each other desperately, then winnow back to their respective courts.

---

Feyre's numb, in a daze during the time just before and after her swearing-in as High Lady. She can barely think, barely function enough to take care of herself, and Mor blessedly steps up and arranges most of it for her. Her sisters are equally shellshocked.

Feyre had expected Nesta to be outraged at being passed over, but she's not. When Feyre finally works up the courage to ask her sister about it, Nesta just gives her a harsh, humorless laugh and says, "I never wanted it in the first place. I should be thanking you."

Officially, treaty negotiations are postponed out of respect for the Night Court's mourning. But really, Prythian is waiting to see if Rhys's father will pull through or not. Feyre can't decide if seeing her father's killer or a grief-stricken Rhys at the bargaining table would be worse.

---

Rhys's father lives. Feyre hardly has time to sort through her feelings about it because there's just so much to do. Night still has an army to be kept on standby in case peace talks fall through, and the war has has ravaged every corner of Prythian, including Night. It will take a long time to get her people back on their feet.

And of course it's no small matter that killing a High Lord is an act of war.

When negotiations resume and it's time to take her father's place, she wishes she could be wearing armor instead of the black gown she has on. The High Lords will be watching a young, untested, grieving High Lady—who never thought she'd be the one to rule— like vultures. She can't afford to appear weak, but she has no desire to drag her people into another war.

Feyre reminds herself she's been going to the Court of Nightmare since she was a girl. She can do this.

All eyes fall on Feyre as she arrives in the meeting room just late enough to command attention. The room goes quiet as she stares down the High Lord of Spring. Rhys has his father's violet eyes, and seeing something of him in his father makes her gut twist.

"Before we begin today, let me make one thing clear," she says quietly, with the authority of someone who doesn't need to raise her voice to be heard. "I will not allow you to make a warmonger out of me. But my father's death cannot go ignored. The Night Court will cease trade and diplomatic relations with any court that maintains ties to Spring. Is that clear?"

She braces herself for threats or worse—taunts about Rhys. But no one speaks, not even the Lord of Spring. Feyre sits down in the last empty chair and laces her fingers together. "Then don't let me hold us up any longer," she says.

It's the hardest thing Feyre's ever done, but she holds it together until they break for lunch. Then she finds an empty bathroom and has a good cry.

She's tempted to reach out to Rhys's mind, but he's far and she's hesitant to deplete her power when there's still the possibility things could go to shit. So after a few minutes, she picks herself up, washes her face, and goes back to the meeting.

She's never felt more alone in her life.

---

To Feyre's surprise, the sanctions actually work. Rhys's father crossed enough of a line that he has no supporters. With Spring left friendless, they make progress negotiating the finer points of the Wall that will separate Prythian from the mortal lands. It actually seems like it will only be a short while before they have a final treaty to sign.

But a week after that, she's eating dinner in Velaris when she suddenly feels a wave of overwhelming dread. She doesn't know why—or at least, she won't admit to herself why—but Feyre has a bone-deep certainty that something has happened to Rhys.

Pushing down her panic, Feyre reaches out with her mind to Cassian, Azriel, and Mor to summon them to her. She briefly considers including her sisters too, but they're not coping with their grief much better than she is. It seems unfair to drag them into this when her Inner Circle can handle it.

It's too dangerous to winnow into enemy territory without knowing what's happening, so Cassian and Azriel fly her and Mor in. If Rhys, Rhiannon, or their mother needs asylum in Night, Mor will have to get them out. As High Lady, Feyre will be breaking all kinds of ancient rules if she does it herself.

None of them ask how she knows something's wrong or how she finds Rhys. Perhaps they know better than to ask her about something she can't even admit to herself.

Feyre's never seen Rhys in his beast form before, but she knows it's him as soon as she sees him. He looks like a massive jungle cat with inky black fur, but the antlers and Illyrian wings make it clear he's no mere animal. He's beautiful in a fearsome sort of way.

She strokes his mind with a gentle talon, not sure what to expect.

His hackles raise, and his tail twitches. He looks directly at her and growls . The sight of it, plus the feel of his mind so close, makes Feyre's heart flip. But there's a crack open for her, so she takes that as a sign she's not unwelcome.

Rhys, what's wrong?

You can come down here, and we'll talk. This should be face-to-face.

Feyre doesn't like the sound of that, but she doesn't think he's a danger to her. She lets the others know what she's doing, then winnows out of Azriel's arm before anyone can voice their objections to seeing their High Lady launch herself into an enemy court.

She lands a careful distance away from Rhys as he shifts out of his beast form. He's wearing the same expression as the night he told her he was leaving to fight in Summer. Feyre doesn't know if she should approach him or not.

"I'm sorry for reacting like that," he says. "I can't talk when I've shifted, and you caught me off-guard."

Feyre hadn't realized it until then, but as a daemati, she must be one of the only people who can communicate with him when he's in his beast form. She doesn't allow herself to think about what that means.

"It's fine. Just tell me what happened," she says.

"I was going to try and see you, but you came. I have bad news," he says, his voice dull. Feyre says nothing, just waits for him to continue. "Amarantha has come to Spring as Hybern's emissary. My father's quite charmed, and there's been talks of an alliance, of opening up trade between his court and Hybern."

Amarantha. The general who captured Rhys. Feyre presses both hands to her face in horror—if she hadn't worked to cut Spring off, there would have been no opening for Hybern to send an emissary to slide into. But for it to be her of all people…

"I'm so sorry," Feyre whispers.

And then it gets worse.

"I'm to marry her to solidify the alliance."

Feyre stumbles backwards into a tree, then steadies herself on it. She repeats his words in her mind again, certain she misheard.

"You can't do that.” She’s crying now, and she wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. "We'd offer you asylum in Night. Even if you don't still want me—"

Rhys makes a strangled-sounding noise then says, "Of course I still want you.”

That just makes Feyre cry harder. She thought he might hate her now, after her actions opened up an opportunity for Hybern. If he did, she wouldn't blame him.

He closes the distance between them and pulls her close, so her head is against his chest. In between pressing kisses to her hair, Rhys says, "There will never come a time I don't want you."

Feyre pulls back so she can look him in the eye. "And I'll always be yours. Stay strong and let me get you out of this.”

“I don’t see a way out. He’ll start a war if he thinks you’re interfering with how he runs his court.”

Feyre knows he’s right. If Rhys runs to Night, most of the other High Lords will see it as insubordination. They’ll likely let Rhys’s father march soldiers through their territory to get to Night.

"Then focus on your head above water."

Feyre can't imagine how it must be to have the bitch who tortured him in his house. It makes her blood boil, and the idea of Amarantha touching Rhys is too much to contemplate without risking her power coming loose taking out half the forest.

Rhys nods and swallows hard, clearly trying to compose himself. "I will. I just thought you should hear it from me and see you one last—"

"Don't," Feyre snarls. She grabs his face in both her hands and kisses him, claiming and fierce. "I got you into this mess. I will get you out."

"If anyone can, it's you." Rhys's gaze drifts up to where Cass, Az, and Mor are circling overhead. "Do you mind telling them to land? We'll never hear the end of it if they flew here and only saw me from a distance."

Feyre does, and once the other three have landed, Rhys relays the news to them. A group of five is hardly inconspicuous, so they keep their conversation brief. But before they go, they squeeze together for a group hug.

---

None of them object when Feyre calls an emergency meeting at the House of Wind on the way home. There's no time to waste.

Azriel's top priority is now finding any information on Amarantha, ideally something damning in her background that will make Rhys's father reconsider. Mor has diplomatic trips planned, so she'll gather intelligence regarding what the other courts are doing in reaction to the news. Cassian will ready the Illyrians in case the balance of power is disrupted and fighting breaks out again.

Feyre's tempted to ask Cassian to march Night's armies straight to Spring and demand Rhys's father hand him over. But that would only cause a thousand other disasters to take the place of their current one.

Feyre can't waste reserves of her power, so she leaves Rhys's mind alone. She needs a secure channel of communication to coordinate the next step of the plan, and her daemati abilities are all she trusts.

So she reaches out a mental talon to Rhiannon, who’s all too willing to scheme with her.

It takes work from her entire Inner Circle, but the day of Rhys's wedding, Feyre is ready. Armed with intelligence reports and a stolen Veritas orb, she leaves for Spring.

---

There's a clap of thunder as Feyre winnows to Rhys, right into the spot where Amarantha is to join him at the altar. There are a few screams from the assembled guests as Feyre's power darkens the sky.

Amarantha freezes halfway down the aisle. Some of the guests winnow away. Others—including some High Lords—draw their swords.

Feyre wills herself to focus on Rhys so the sight of another female as his bride doesn't send her rage into overdrive.

"Hello, Rhysand darling," Feyre purrs, caressing his mind with a talon.

His shields go down immediately, and she says, Just trust me. She needs to focus, so she's out of his head before he can reply.

She smirks—the Court of Nightmares mask is on firmly now. "You know, I really would have expected better flower arrangements for a Spring Court wedding," she says to the crowd.

Amarantha's shock dissipates, and her face contorts with rage as she stalks forward. "I will kill you," she says, dropping her bouquet.

Feyre just rolls her eyes and puts up a shield around her and Rhys with a wave of her hand. Two bands of pure darkness wind around Amarantha's ankles, holding her in place.

As if she hadn't been interrupted, Feyre continues, "I have information that might be of interest to the High Lords in attendance. I suggest you hear me out."

"And you decided my wedding was he place to share it?" Rhys says. He sounds irritated, but Feyre knows him well enough to spot the smile he's trying to hide.

"Considering your wedding was the first phase of a plan, yes. My spymaster procured letters Amarantha sent back to Hybern, detailing her progress with an attempt to steal power from Prythian's High Lords. And in case you don't believe me, I brought the Veritas orb for good measure," Feyre says. She pulls both the letters and the orb out of a pocket dimension with a flourish and holds them up.

Using the orb, Feyre projects a vision of Amarantha's last conversation with the King of Hybern and images of their letters. As she gives everyone time to look it all over, Rhys lets her into his mind again.

What the hell is happening? he says. Not angry, just bewildered.

I told you I'd get you out, didn't I? Feyre says.

Any other tricks up your sleeve I should know about?

Not up mine but your sister certainly has a few.

Enough time has passed for the crowd to take it all in. Feyre continues, "I hope that was illuminating. Are there any objections to me killing her now? Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

No one does. Feyre takes it as an affirmative answer.

Tempted as she is to tear Amarantha to shreds with her talons, Feyre wants this to be clean. It's a chance for a show of power as High Lady of the Night Court, so she uses her daemati abilities instead.

As she loosens her grip on her power just a bit more, the world goes pitch-black. She pries apart Amarantha's mental shields and makes quick work of them. Once she's in, Feyre crushes her mind completely. Amarantha might be a powerful fae, but she's no match for a High Lady.

It's over before it even starts.

Feyre pulls her power back, and everyone in attendance blinks at the sudden return of sunlight. Amarantha's lifeless eyes stare upwards.

Feyre turns her attention to the High Lord of Spring next, and she says, "I just handled a potential threat to your court. I believe you're in my debt."

Through clenched teeth, Rhys's father says, "What do you want?"

Feyre smiles, and there's no warmth behind it at all. "Give me Rhysand's hand in marriage, and we'll call it even," she says coolly, as much as it pains her to trade Rhys as if he's livestock.

"Only if he renounces his claim to my throne."

Feyre expected this, but it still makes her pause. Rhiannon had said that their father would take any opportunity to be rid of the son he worries will kill him to become High Lord himself.

She enters Rhys's mind again, but before she has a chance to say anything, he says, Is this the trick up my sister's sleeve?

There's a horrible half-second where Feyre worries that she miscalculated and Rhys wants to be High Lord more than he wants her. If his father's stipulation is enough to make Rhys refuse her proposal, she’ll find a way to live with it, no matter how much it hurts.

Yes. She plans to depose your father, and I offered her Night's assistance.

This must be the "best wedding gift ever" she mentioned this morning. She'll make an excellent High Lady.

No one but Rhys and Feyre notices Rhiannon's subtle nod at her brother as she mouths "do it" at him.

Rhys says, "I'll renounce my claim to the Spring Court throne if you marry me, Feyre. Consider it a bargain."

Feyre lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her Court of Nightmares mask slips as she breaks into a real smile and says, "I agree."

A bargain tattoo appears for both of them, a vine of flowers that winds from the elbow to the ring finger of their left arm.

Feyre holds out a hand to Rhys, ready to winnow them home, and says, "Shall we?"

Rhys steps towards her, but something makes him stumble before he can take her hand. Feyre puts an arm out to catch him.

"Are you hurt?" she says, steadying him. Her gut twists with the fear that they aren't actually about to escape this ordeal unscathed.

Rhys just shakes his head and laughs. "We're mates," he says.

It's true, something Feyre's suspected for a long time but was never strong enough to admit to herself, let alone voice aloud. It still feels impossible she could be lucky enough to have Rhys as a mate.

"Mates?" is all she can manage to say.

"The mating bond snapped just now. A little late don't you think?" Rhys says, draping his arm across her shoulders.

It's the one thing that could have gotten them out of this situation sooner—even Rhys's father wouldn't have tried to force the marriage to Amarantha if the mating bond had snapped then. But of course it had to happen just after it could have saved them frustration. Feyre shakes her head in disbelief and smiles.

"Better late than never," she says.

Rhys gives Rhiannon a wink just before Feyre winnows them both to the bedroom of the townhouse she bought after staying at the House of Wind stirred up too many memories of her father. She's hardly decorated yet, but the sword lily Rhys gave her the night they met is framed on the wall.

"Directly to the bedroom?" Rhys says, his cocky smile returning. "I should have known you'd only want one thing—"

Feyre shuts him up with a kiss.

It's a good while before she pulls away, both of them a little breathless. She almost considered pushing it farther than that, but she knows her Inner Circle will be anxious until they see their High Lady back from behind enemy lines.

"Kitchen. Now. I need to make you food," Feyre says.

Rhys knows better than to object. He lets his wings out and sits in one of the chairs made to accommodate them while Feyre grabs a can of soup, the first thing she sees in a cabinet. As she heats it up, she speaks mind-to-mind with her sisters and friends and tells them to come to the house.

She lets Rhys have his reunions and fill them all in as she stirs the soup. With every movement of the spoon, she feels as if her heart comes another stitch closer to being repaired. Her mate is home.

She wishes she had a speech prepared, but no words feel sufficient. She ladles a serving into a bowl, places it in front of him, and says, "I love you."

She hands him a spoon next; Rhys takes it from her and kisses the knuckles of her outstretched hand. "I love you, too."

Surrounded by some of their birth and chosen family, Rhys eats every drop of the soup. After that, everyone knows to leave them alone for at least a few days.

---

During the mating frenzy, Feyre and Rhys manage to keep their hands off each other just long enough for a quick wedding ceremony. Plans can't be set in motion until the bargain is fulfilled.

With Rhys out of the line of succession, his father's guard drops faster than anyone expected. Rhiannon becomes High Lady within days.

They return to the Spring Court for Rhiannon's swearing-in, the end of so much suffering and death. In another time, Feyre might have rolled her eyes at all the mentions of new life blooming. But the new alliance between Night and Spring is the strongest in Prythian's history, and both High Ladies want nothing more than peace.

---

Rhys and Feyre stay the night after the swearing-in, partially to send a message that Spring trusts Night enough to allow its High Lady to stay for a longer visit, partially just to spend time with Rhys's family. After dark, they sneak out to the woods just like they used to.

Rhys is tucking a moonflower behind Feyre's ear when a beast with inky black fur, Illyrian wings, and antlers emerges from the forest. Rhiannon shifts out of her beast form, fresh as a daisy despite the long day. She's changed out of her formal gown, and now that her flower crown is gone, Rhys musses her hair, greeting her like a brother.

“Rhysie!” Rhiannon exclaims, batting his hand away. Then she says, “Cauldron Feyre, I can’t believe you put up with him.”

"You can keep him in line by throwing shoes at his head," Feyre says.

Rhys gives Feyre an indignant look, but she just wraps an arm around his waist and kisses his cheek.

"And I suppose you're still making my brother happy?" Rhiannon says with a soft smile.

Rhys pulls Feyre closer and presses a kiss to her hair. "Incredibly happy," he says.

Feyre leans into Rhys's touch, thinking that there's no better gift than a peaceful spring night with him.

#feysand #feysand fic #feyre x rhys #feyre x rhysand #rhys x feyre #rhysand x feyre

7 notes · View notes

valleynix · 2 years ago

Note

Another chapter is finished. So you had mercy over those poor characters and us and decided to give us some fun time :')

I fear this is only a quiet moment before a huge storm but that's a problem for another day so lets appreciate the peace till it lasts. Ch. 10 comments.

Awww Donna. I wonder if she can become a trusted friend and maybe help Reader a little, it's hard not to be able to share your thoughts and worries with anyone :(

Cassandra: Sit.

Me: I am sat.

There she goes again, protective older sibling Cassandra my beloved <3

I believe in the other reality she was absolutely furious after Dani died and that's so sad that she died after she failed at protecting her and couldn't even avenge her death :') <\3

"If she knew what you had done before you’d gone back-"

You probably would be murdered to prevent it.

Here come Cass and Bela having beef with each other again with the Reader in the middle of it. Poor thing.

And the skinship goes hard whenever Bela's on the radar pls.

Not the Lunatic/Miranda moment pls they're truly mommy's lil bird.

Due to new evidence, their actions are understandable, as they're driven by – mommy issues👨🏼‍⚖️

But Lunatic, bestie, join the good side, we have a mommy too. And Alcina > Miranda.

A full pack of cuddles, kisses and praise too.

"She looks… like she’s been busy."

"(…)messy hair, flushed cheeks, even the robe-"

WHAT WAS LADY D BUSY WITH 😳

False alarm.

"I can show you that no one is here that shouldn’t be.”

Like bestie Miranda wouldn't shape-shift to a maid or sth.

“I could bite into your throat, darling.”

I see no issues here???? Next.

"She could tell you to sleep on the floor and you’d be happy."

REAL

Reader getting BOLD out there with Bela.

Also it's cute how Bela can be oblivious and shy at times but can also become wild in seconds 😭

NOT DANI AND CASS RUINING THE MOMENT PLS

Ok but they also cooperated to make a necklace for the Reader and that's so sweet *sobs*

"when you correctly pronounced something, she kissed you quickly and moved on to the next item"

The kind of motivation I need. Dani be my teacher.

"Not many humans would willingly spend their evening with me"

Well they're not really a human so.

Cassandra is like: fine I agree, but I'll complain the whole time.

"Could you lie your way out of it?"

No <3

Cassandra.exe stopped working for a moment there.

The amount of love I have for the Cassandra you write. Please the whole scene with her during that wedding in the village was so beautiful, I need every single word engraved in my heart.

READER YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO KISS ALCINA !!!!!!!

oh i see you're getting to the good parts BAHA

*i'm definitely planning to have Donna be a friend to Reader, but she does have other things to tend to in her territory :')

*Cass pls anything for you

*PROTECTIVE OLDER SIBLING CASSANDRA >>>

*oh she 100% was, although iirc, i think Cass was killed before Dani was? i feel like the knowledge that you tried your best and it still wasn't enough to protect your youngest siblings, knowing what would happen to them as you spend your final moments crumbling to the ground... ouch :'(

*Lunatic has worse mommy issues than anyone else LMAO

*(it's the way you just know Daniela would adore Lunatic because of their funkiness (girl loves strange things) and would give them all the kisses and praise they wanted)

*she was... yknow... busy... BAHAHAHA

*tbf she does hire each maid individually, so she would know if someone was in the castle that wasn't supposed to be there :O doesn't stop Miranda from trying, though

*i see Reader is staying relatable as always HEHE

*i love writing her as so teasing and confident, but when someone else is actively flirting with her?? she's so clueless and can't really connect the dots SDJFS she's so smart but so stupid, i adore her

*YOUNGER SIBLINGS DOING YOUNGER SIBLINGS THINGS

*listen it's so obvious they all adore Reader i love it sm skdjfhskdjfs

*i would learn literally so much if i had Dani giving me a smooch every time i did something right pls

*LOOPHOLES

*(we all know Cass actually enjoyed it)

*HEHEHE I LOVE SOFT CASS, she's so awkward but so loving deep down. it's nice to write her as someone with a massive soft spot for those she loves/cares for, even if no one else would ever be lucky enough to see that side of her

*LISTEN THEY WERE VERY DRUNK AND ALCINA IS VERY PRETTY, their brain just. "hm. pretty lady. kith"

ehehe but i'm so glad you're still enjoying it :D <333

#asks #i did just finish off an energy drink and i hope to get back to writing kjshdf #must... focus... on the gay...

6 notes · View notes

ferniliciousness · 4 months ago

Text

The DND saga continues finally!

This session kicked off right where we left it, the party heading to the sheriff's office to tell him about what we found in the mansion. When we get there he thanks us for investigating. Ember is very sad when he doesn't give her a patch from his vest for helping.

He then tells us that while walking to the office he has noticed the smell of death coming from the old church next door. We agreed to go and check it out in exchange for 15 gold each.

The church had obviously not been used in some time, in some disrepair with the basement nearly caving in on itself in certain places. Entering we didn't find much except for a few tables and drawers as well as an altar to the god Fharlanghn, which was still holding onto some traces of radiant energy.

In a back room we find three books, one a wizard scroll of advanced fire spells.... Too bad we don't have a wizard lmao. The other a book on drow, which our drow sorcerer, Cass, found to be rather inaccurate lol. The last one was a book on deities of Gem City and included Fharlanghn and a god I can't remember, Feora didn't read it lmao.

Continuing onto the basement we are met with a group of six undead skeletons and spring into battle. Ember brandishes her pickaxe and runs into the group of them, chopping off the arm of one of them. Celeste, our ranger shoots it again, cleanly killing it before shooting the one next to it and taking off its leg. Four of the skeletons surround Ember, hitting and biting her.

Poor Ember takes the brunt of the hits while Feora aims at a skeleton at the back of the room, cleanly sticking its skull to the wall behind it. Ember is bit taking some form of poison damage from the undead, before we are able to quickly kill the last of the skeletons. We rush to Ember who is inspecting her now clearly infected wound. Feora offers her healing but is denied as the Paladin prays upon their god to clear the infection and Cass gives them a potion.

At the end of the room we find an almost secret door, clearly much newer then the rest of the church we had been through. Walking in we find a large pit with a pile of bones at the end of it. Sitting atop the bones, chained to the ground is a Berbalang. The Berbalang leaps into the air, flying close to where it can almost touch us before hitting the end of its chain.

It begs us to free him, saying he means us no harm and was just being nosy around the town. It flies to its pile and brings us back a bone covered in infernal writing, which Ember is able to translate, full of all the tea of the town. It's similar to things we had found in the ledger in the mansion earlier that day. Everyone in the party is interested in the tea and we end up exchanging quite a few rumors with it before Feora looks down into the pit to see if she can free the Berbalang.

The way down is pretty steep but she's able to get down easily without a rope. The Berbalang lands next to her and sits quietly while she uses her dagger to break the chain from around its leg. It flies around happily, shaking Feoras hand and thanking her profusely before handing her a whistle made of bone and flying away.

The pile of bones are all covered in more infernal writing and Feora grabs as many of them as she can before climbing her way back up. Upon inspecting everything it is full of even more dirt from the town, including the fact that the leading family in town is actually in quite a bit of debt and not as rich as they would like to appear. There is also someone or something living in the Old tower and a couple in town involved in some shady business. The bone whistle is simple, lined with three groves and Feora can tell that it is made to summon the Berbalang up to three times.

The group gather what they made and start to head out of the basement... Except.... The basement appears to be much, much larger now. Walking for over an hour the group still does not find the stairs out, and instead are greeted by the night sky. No longer in the church they now appear to be standing outside of an old mining shaft some ways outside of town, and the sun now appears to be rising, instead of setting. Behind them in the mine they can hear Varguille chittering and snarling in the darkness. Ember quickly heads into town without the rest of the party.

Feora casts detect magic and is able to find traces of teleportation magic. Some ward obviously teleported them from the church basement to here. They walk into town, confused as to why time seemed to have moved so quickly as none of them are tired. They find the sheriff asleep on his desk, having waited up for them. Ember knocks on his table to wake him up (more like punches but 🤷) the man startles awake and immediately asks where we've been all night.

Feora tells him about their fight in the church and of the magic that teleported them to the mine nearby. The sheriff, does not believe her, accusing Feora to simply having been tipsy with wine and losing her way in the new town. As a bard, who has been around magic her entire life and literally cast detect magic, she is immediately distraught at the notion taking great offense to the sheriff who looks as though he hasn't cast a lick of magic his entire life. I believe her words were "I think I know the difference between a stairwell and a spell."

To make matters worse while looking for a map the sheriff knocks over a cup clearly full of wine, while h continues to say that it would have been a simple mistake and how he still couldn't believe there would be some kind of magic there. At this point Feora just ignores him, having had enough of his accusations. The rest of the party quickly speak up for her and get there payment for the job. The sheriff gives them a bit more info before quickly falling back asleep on his chair.

Ember, upset that the sheriff took the credit himself for there work, waits until he's asleep and steals some of the badges on his vest, quickly sticking them to her own clothes, where she finds they actually have some magical benefits. Plus she earned it after almost dying.

Heading back to the tavern they find the owner of the mine, already drunk at sunrise. They ask him a few questions about the mine, finding out it had been closed after monster attacks drove off the workers. With the info everyone takes a long rest in there rooms upstairs and leveling up.

We left the session standing in front of the old mine about to step foot inside.

#feora linnic #dnd #mine #this is long #but im mostly recapping for myself lol

0 notes

radarsteddybear · 1 year ago

Text

Whumptober Day 22 - Who Among Us Doesn't Have a Scar or Two

Fandom: Original Fiction (H.O.U.N.D.S.) Prompt(s): scars, "Let me see." Rating: Teen Additional Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, friendship, found family, spy-fi, in which the author remembers her characters are werewolves

Minnow shivered in the cold night air. The fire didn’t seem to be giving off that much heat, though that may have been due to dampness that still clung to her clothes more so than anything about the fire itself.

She looked over at Cassandra, who was staring into the fire, holding her jacket tightly around her, her mind a million miles away. This was only their third mission together, and already, they worked as well together as the cogs in a well-oiled machine. But Minnow hadn’t seen this side of her partner before. Up until now, Cassandra had been cheerful, talkative, expressive. The only times she ever seemed to stop talking for more than ten minutes were when the mission called for quiet or when she was asleep. But Cassandra hadn’t said much of anything since they’d escaped the F.E.L.I.S. hideout, and that had been hours ago. That could mean any number of things. Cassandra could be hurt physically. She could be hurt psychologically. She could be feeling guilty about the way the mission had gone. She could be having second thoughts about being a H.O.U.N.D.S. agent.

“You ok?” Minnow finally asked.

Cassandra blinked at her like she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Minnow said. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Cassandra shrugged. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

Normally, Minnow would have asked her if she wanted to talk about, but even in the dim light of the campfire, she’d caught the way Cassandra had winced when she’d moved.

Minnow’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Minnow carefully considered what she was about to say. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but if we’re going to be partners, then we need to be able to trust each other, and we can’t trust each other if we’re hiding things from each other. I need to know if you’re hurt, just like you need to know if I am, and if something’s impacting you emotionally or psychologically—”

“Nothing’s impacting me emotionally or psychologically,” Cassandra interrupted.

“Are you sure? Because you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world,” Minnow said. “You don’t have to tell me specifics, but if you’re at all compromised—”

“I’m not compromised!” The words came out sharp, nearly as sharp as the wince that immediately followed.

“Ok,” Minnow said slowly, trying to keep her voice neutral. “But you look like you may be injured—”

“I said I’m fine!”

Suddenly, Minnow wasn’t so sure about this partnership. She started thinking about what she would say to Mr. Thaddeus when they returned to Arlington. While Miss Jacobson is a fine agent, I don’t think that we are a good fit, and it may be better that we are each paired with other agents—

Next to her, Cassandra took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe—maybe I am compromised.”

Minnow took a moment before answering. “I see,” she said. “What do I need to know?”

“It’s just a minor injury,” Cassandra said. “It’s not much to worry about, really. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Minnow frowned. “Are you sure? Because typically—”

“This sort of thing has happened before,” Cassandra said. “This right here will be the worst of it. I’ll be right as rain after a good night’s sleep.”

“What do you mean, it’s happened before?” Minnow said, alarmed. “What kind of injury are you talking about?”

“I told you, it’s nothing! Just a scratch or two. That’s all.”

“Maybe I should take a look, just to be su—”

“No!”

Minnow sat back, startled. Maybe it was time to start thinking about what she’d say to Cassandra when she decided to cut the mission short and return to Headquarters without meeting the mission objective.

Cassandra buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by her fingers. “I just—it’s—it’s personal.”

“I should still probably take a look,” Minnow said gently. “Just so we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Cassandra pulled her jacket closer.

“It’ll be in the capacity of a medical professional, of course,” Minnow said. “Though calling myself a ‘medical professional’ just because I’ve had some additional training is a bit of a misnomer—”

Cassandra laughed in spite of herself. “You always undersell yourself.”

Minnow blinked in surprise. Did she? “The point still stands. The last thing we want is to wake up in the morning to find you’re completely critical.”

“I can think of worse things,” Cassandra said.

Minnow just gave her a Look.

Cassandra sighed. “Ok,” she said. She took off her jacket and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. About halfway down, she hesitated. “It’s just—I have—there are some scars—”

“Who among us doesn’t have a scar or two?” Minnow said.

“I know, but—”

“Let me see,” Minnow said softly.

Cassandra finished unbuttoning her shirt. Minnow moved closer to her as she turned around so that her back was to her partner. Cassandra shrugged off her shirt to reveal four jagged lines torn into her skin. Minnow knew that mark—it was a claw mark. A large claw mark.

One that had definitely come from a werewolf.

Minnow’s breath caught in her throat. The scars were old. Far older than Cassandra’s H.O.U.N.D.S. service record could possibly be, even counting her time at the Academy. Sure, Minnow had meant it when she’d said that everyone had scars of some sort, but this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind. She found herself reaching out to touch them, but she quickly drew her hand back and reminded herself that that wasn’t what she was looking for. No, that would be where the dried blood was.

“How’d you get this?” Minnow asked.

“What?” Cassandra asked, her voice tight with anxiety.

“This—is this from a belt?” Minnow touched it lightly. It was a fresh, swollen line across her shoulders, not quite as red and angry as the claw marks below.

Cassandra winced. “It was a whip.”

“A—when the hell did that happen?”

“When they captured me. Lord Leonid wanted to ‘teach me a lesson’ for snooping around places I shouldn’t be. Lucky for me, he only had time to hit me twice before your diversion.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Cassandra was quiet a moment. “I told you, it’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“It most certainly will not be!” Minnow grabbed Cassandra’s discarded shirt and searched it for tears.

“He was kind enough to let me take it off first. He said that ‘flesh heals, but fabric does not.’”

“And you said you’ve had injuries like this before?”

Cassandra was silent.

“When?” The word spilled out of Minnow’s mouth before she could stop it.

Cassandra remained silent.

Minnow scrubbed a hand over her face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—you don’t have to answer that, of course.” She pulled out her handkerchief and wet it with one of the canteens they kept in the sedan for emergencies, then carefully laid it on Cassandra’s back. Cassandra hissed when it made contact with her skin.

“It’ll be fine tomorrow,” she said again.

“Yeah,” Minnow said as she carefully avoided the scars with her handkerchief. Her head was swimming with questions she knew she couldn’t ask. “And if it’s not, that’s ok, too. We’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“Yeah,” Cassandra agreed.

“For tonight, you might want to sleep on your front,” Minnow said. She considered their meager first aid kit. “I’m not sure if we’ll have enough bandages for this.”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“I guess we will. And if we don’t, we can always use your shirt to make more,” Minnow teased.

“After Lord Leonid went to the trouble of not ripping it to shreds?”

“He should have thought about that before he tried to rip you to shreds.”

“Can you imagine, though? He hands us a couple of rolls of bandages on our way out of there,” Cassandra snickered.

Minnow picked up the roll of bandages and started wrapping it around Cassandra’s shoulders. “After some of the stories we heard at the Academy, I’m not sure that I’d be surprised.”

Cassandra hummed in agreement. “Speaking of bandages, how are we doing on ours?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to cover the whole thing, but I should be able to get most of it. And if you don’t move at all tonight, it might even stay that way.”

“I just hope that we don’t need any more before the end of this mission,” Cassandra said. “Hey, do you think they’ve got a suggestion box back at headquarters?”

“I have yet to come across a suggestion box,” Minnow said, concentrating on positioning the bandage just so.

“Maybe we could suggest a suggestion box.”

“Or we could put it in our report.”

Cassandra snorted. “Does anyone actually read those reports?”

“We’ve got a whole division dedicated to it!”

“But are they going to notice a line in the middle of a report that we could use more bandages out in the field?”

“We could bring it up at the debriefing. Then it’ll at least be on the record in two different places,” Minnow said.

“Yeah, so at some inquest years down the line after something terrible happens, someone can prove that H.O.U.N.D.S. was negligent. But in the meantime, that’s not going to help.”

“You really don’t have a high opinion of H.O.U.N.D.S., do you?”

“I don’t have a high opinion of bureaucracy. If I didn’t have a high opinion of H.O.U.N.D.S., I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, that answers my next question.” Minnow tied off the bandage and sat back. “How does that feel?”

“Pretty good, all things considered.”

“Good.” Minnow climbed into her makeshift sleeping bag. “If you need anything in the night, let me know.”

“Will do.” Cassandra slowly climbed into hers.

It wasn’t long before they were both fast asleep.

#whumptober2023 #no.27 #scars #let me see #H.O.U.N.D.S.#my Minnow #my Cass #fic #Teddy Bear writes #my OCs #whumptober #whump #hurt comfort #original post

1 note · View note

xtruss · 1 year ago

Text

The American Left And Right Loathe Each Other And Agree On A Lot

Economic philosophy is not just changing—it is converging

— United States | U-shaped Economic Thinking | July 13th, 2023 | Washington, DC

Image: Tyler Comrie/Getty Images

Normally, you need read only the first six or seven words of a senator’s sentence to be able to correctly surmise his party. See if you can tell from the next 40 or so, an extract culled from a prominent senator’s recent book: “Today, neoliberalism is in. In the eyes of our elites, the spread and support of free trade should come before all other concerns—personal, political and geopolitical. In recent years this has led to a kind of ‘free-market fundamentalism’.” Suppose you were given a hint. The three proposed solutions for the neoliberal malaise are: “putting Wall Street in its place”, bringing “critical industries back to America” and resurrecting “an obligation to rebuild America’s workforce”.

If you guessed a Democrat—perhaps even more cleverly Bernie Sanders writing in his recent work, “It’s ok to be Angry About Capitalism”—you would be wrong. It was in fact Marco Rubio, the Republican senator from Florida and one-time presidential contender, writing in his just-published book, “Decades of Decadence”.

The populist era marked by Donald Trump’s ascension has been tumultuous for economic policy on both the American left and right. What was once heterodox has quickly become orthodox. It is easy to be drawn to where the new left and the new right are diametrically opposed, because partisans amplify disagreement, and because there are real differences on the role of policing, say, or whether pupils ought to be schooled in gender fluidity. What the culture wars distract from is that, on matters of economic policy, there is rather a lot of agreement. The culture wars may even have hastened the convergence between the two sides by quickening the break-up between the Republican Party and big business, which is now commonly derided as just another redoubt of wokeness.

The diagnoses from the new right and new left of what ails America are strikingly similar. Both sides agree that the old order that prized expertise, free markets and free trade—“neoliberalism”, usually invoked as a pejorative—was a rotten deal for America. Corporations were too immoral; elites too feckless; globalisation too costly; inequality too unchecked; the invisible hand too prone to error.

These problems, both sides agree, must be rectified by the state, through the use of tariffs and industrial policy to boost favoured industries. That should be coupled with greater redistribution, to the detriment of corporations and to the benefit of left-behind workers. When Jake Sullivan, the national security adviser, who is tasked with making something called “a foreign policy for the middle class” a reality, endorsed the idea that the administration’s domestic economic policies represented a “new Washington consensus” in April, he was speaking grandly but not incorrectly.

For wonks pushing in this direction, that is great news. “It is a sign of a healthy politics that you have people with their eyes open on both sides of the political spectrum saying, ‘This is really broken,’” says Oren Cass, a former policy adviser to Mitt Romney and now the executive director of American Compass, a think-tank leading the charge on the right. In June the organisation released an anthology of policy essays called “Rebuilding American Capitalism: A Handbook for Conservative Policymakers” that resembles a slaughterhouse for Republican sacred cows.

Trade deficits are obsessed over; federal budget deficits are hardly mentioned. Child benefits for parents should be made much more generous, as Democrats suggest, though only on the condition that parents work. Financial engineering should be resisted, with share buy-backs banned. Organised labour is to be encouraged rather than being dismissed as a hindrance. “Conservative economics, unlike the fundamentalism that supplanted it for a time, begins with a confident assertion of what the market is for and then considers the public policies necessary for shaping markets toward that end,” Mr Cass writes at the start of the manifesto.

This is apparently a catchy proposition. Most of the young guard of Republican senators who are trying to fashion populist economic policy—like Tom Cotton of Arkansas, J.D. Vance of Ohio and Todd Young of Indiana—gave lengthy interviews at an event to celebrate its unveiling. Mr Rubio was there, too; his recent book of recriminations against the decadent technocratic, neoliberal elite is studded with references to Mr Cass and his writings.

The idea that capitalism has inherent contradictions that require government intervention is more usually associated with the left. But Thomas Piketty, the famed French chronicler of inequality, is also optimistic that there is a broader ideological shift under way. “Beginning with the 2008 financial crisis, we’ve seen the beginning of the end of this sort of neoliberal euphoria and the pandemic accelerated this transformation,” he reckons.

Mr Biden is doing “interesting things” when it comes to industrial policy, says Mr Piketty—who freely admits his preference for the more revolutionary Democratic alternatives like Elizabeth Warren and Mr Sanders over the centrist Mr Biden. The president, he says, is “not really questioning the very high level of inequality that we have in the us today”.

This is a critique that those in the Biden administration might heed. There are more than a few casual fans of Mr Piketty in the White House. Heather Boushey, a member of the president’s Council of Economic Advisers, helped edit an entire volume of economic essays titled “After Piketty”. Even as a tight labour market after the pandemic increased wages for the lowest-paid workers, top incomes continued to rise, causing some measures of inequality either to rise or remain stuck at stubbornly high levels. Mr Piketty had called for a return to the high marginal tax rates on income in effect in the three decades after the second world war, as well as a new steeply progressive wealth tax to finance a generous welfare state.

This is one difference between new right and new left. Mr Biden has taken on board the idea that extreme wealth at the top of the distribution is a problem that needs tackling, and insists that he will not raise taxes on those earning less than $400,000 a year (98% of Americans fall below that threshold). Mr Cass and co spend less time fretting that the top 2% are doing too well. Though since Mr Biden has not managed to actually raise taxes on top earners, the difference is moot.

All of which leads Mr Piketty to worry that America could have a “neoliberal stabilisation” at a very high level of inequality, or continue to flirt with alternative systems like the “neo-nationalism” embodied by Mr Trump. He also worries that some of the leftish industrial policy that the Biden administration has championed, and which plenty of Republicans would copy, is in fact something more retrograde in disguise. “Some of what we call industrial policy today looks a lot like subsidies and sort of a new wave of tax competition and a race to the bottom,” he says.

Crossing the Piketty Line

Aside from the focus on the super-rich, the differences between the new left and new right on economic matters can be hard to detect. Those on the left often discuss social policy as something that happens between state and individual; the right insists that the family remain the intermediating institution. Both find competition with China to be a justification for industrial policy; but the new right does not find the threat of climate change to be nearly so moving. There is little appetite on either side to reform entitlement programmes before the trust funds that hold cash for old-age-pension and health benefits are depleted within the next decade.

Both the new left and the new right agree on empowering workers but disagree on the means. “The Democratic Party is just completely committed at this point to strengthening existing unions,” says Mr Cass. He prefers alternative ways of organising labour like sectoral bargaining, or a German-style co-determination system in which a set number of corporate-board seats are reserved for workers (an arrangement also praised by Mr Piketty).

If there is so much agreement, why is Congress not enacting more laws that reflect the new consensus? The main reason is that mutual suspicion on matters of culture, the primary currency of contemporary politics, infect whatever new economic consensus there is. A wholesale refashioning of America therefore won’t come soon. But the ideas are already proving to be more than a mere passing fad.■

— This article appeared in the United States section of the print edition under the headline "Frenemies"

#United States 🇺🇸#U-shaped Economic Thinking #Economic Philosophy #Democrat #Capitalism #Republican #Donald Trump #Neoliberalism #Marco Rubio #Washington #Tom Cotton #J.D. Vance #Thomas Piketty #Elizabeth Warren #Bernie Sanders #Joe Biden #China 🇨🇳#Frenemies

0 notes