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saraisunraiz · 12 days ago

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Love Letters to the Mutable Sign…

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Dear Sagittarius,

Your light shines the most bright when you are connected to your internal and eternal flame. For there is nothing more astounding than to see you shoot across the night sky. There is no question to who you are when you are the epitome of being committed to the journey of life. All that life has to offer, you seek it out with your strength and wisdom. Your eye is set on the point of destination and you do nothing but gallop towards your red pin dot in the distance. The adventure seems to be in the journey for you, you grow bored being within your destination. I admire that about you. Being within your understanding is to know that you are free, as free as free can be. If not for your existence manifesting as the two land animals that abide this Earth, I see you as one with wings. Taking flight from your faithful mountain jump, dancing through the sky and winds with dangerous routes. The thrill of seeking makes you such a visionary. You’ve no idea how much you inspire me. Well, I am sure with these words you will find the idea to make much sense. I wish to give you the most amount of love, joy, and free-spirits. Though as I know you more and more, I see that the free spirits and love and joy are not for me to give to you. You do not seek for the world to give you anything. So instead, I leave myself open for you to take. For your taking of my offerings is nothing short of an honor. The most honorable act you could bestow upon me. For my love, this world does not yet understand the beauty of your spirit. They have yet to understand what it means to always be seeking. They mistake you and forsake your character with words that lack depth and intimacy. They see you as just a rolling stone, a continuous cycle that never reaches fulfillment. I see you for much more than that. I see you for the being that embraces yourself entirely. Knowing that the insatiable act of exploration is your home, your peace, your sanctuary. With multiples and millions of perspectives, conioucnessess, cultures- why would one want to keep to the same existence they know? Why not learn as much as is possibly out there in the world? For this day and age does not need stagnancy or safety. They need your bravery, your courage, your moxxy. Be free within yourself, though you do not need me to tell you that. My dear, Sagittarius, you set my heart in an enormous flame when I see you shoot across the night sky. Into the unknown of adventure and destiny. Abundance you bring through your simple existence that is a true inspiration to all. For the days and the nights, I wish I was a star. Therefore, being in such a form could grant me access to witness you soar across the skies- in search of your new adventure, I could be beside you. And if even for the one moment I see your swift sway, I could be eternally at bliss to witness your spark of fire for just one moment. For just one moment, to be within your atmosphere is the greatest and most abundant adventure that could ever be.

My greatest love,

To Sagittarius.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Dear Virgo,

Your calculated mind constricts and relaxes my heart with every breath and every pump that courses life through my veins. The matter of the fact is, my love, that you are my equation. You figure the formulas of life. You solve my problems with ease, though I look to you quizzically and wonder who will offer the same for you? For the love I carry for you could not be strong enough for the weight you hold for others or for the world. You deem yourself useful in the actions you do though I see you as the most valuable for your simple existence. For the mind is one of playing tricks on us, though mine is as clear as day when casting upon your bestowed beauty. Beauty of yours seems to be written with the finest of inks and created with only the most outstanding quality of papers. Do you see the beauty I do when you gaze at your reflection? Would you know the way I feel when you dance within my mind? I’ve yet to know such grace in this world, and I know that there will never be. The existence that is you is what I would categorize to be the most perfect and the most wonderful. Habitual practices of the body and of the mind, they consume you. You have not yet seen the progressions of the simple act that brings you a new day. The breath that seeks your lips once you rise, the soul that creates new energy in your life, the body that your soul resides in- they all want you and desire to be in your attention. Do not look away from the truth of these words. You are one that could never be replicated or understood. For your calculations are too pure yet complex for the world to see clearly. You need not worry to the depths of your continuously moving mind. The expansion of your heart comes from the movement of your lips. My dear, my Virgo. Each day I wish for you to bestow me with your cognitive presence, solve the formulas of my mind that are yet to make sense of what beauty has become into this world. How do you carry such calculations of life within the matter of your skin, hands, & eyes? It is of my most honor, that you grant me the permission to solve the equations of life that belong to you.

My formula,

To Virgo.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Dear Pisces,

The light you shine onto this world would not be able for viewing without the darkness you shadow upon us as well. There has never been one who is so attuned to the worlds around them. Being within one existence and understanding others simultaneously. You are truly an amazement to the world. The laughter that comes from the belly of the depths of your sparkling soul, they echo vibrationally through the patterns of my DNA, my skin… Do you know how magical you are? Enigmatic is truly a word that was created for the sanctuary you bring in the presence of you. Your entire being is one that cannot be understood by many. For you have let me into your world, your twists and turns of all that is a beautiful brush stroke. For I am the most humbly grateful for all that you grace me with. Does the way of the world not cower to your innate powers? How do you flow with such motion? As if every single move you take is a dance of the most eloquence and grace. Your lips humbly drown me with the vibrations of tone that depart between them. Oh, my love! The existence that is you simply tantalizes me. I’ve not known what to do with myself in the swirl of your embrace. The home of you is one that cannot be bound and seemingly that is why I am attracted to it so. Places are not enough, no solid foundation could ever hold the world that you have within your eyes. There is too much magic and love and grace and spiritual wisdom within those eyes. Eyes that hold galaxies from light years away. My ever quest of light and hope is to try to understand who you are and what you are here for, for this world is not your home. This is something we both know, you told me in a dream. The dream that has the resonance of your home, the otherworldly home of stars and planets. Where did you come from? For such beauty is not one of Earthly presence. You are of a quality that is far beyond these lands, you are foreign and you know it so. Hence why your every word and every action and every thought is one that is beyond comprehension of the human emotion. You encapsulate me. You are mystical, I seemingly can never get enough of you. For my mind and emotions move faster than my fingers may keep up and I do it for the honor of complimenting your beauty. There is nothing that can remove me from the magical existence that is you, my lover of all realms. You have yet to know the magic you’ve bestowed upon me. You’ve yet to know the shadows in my mind you have given light and the lights you have casted upon to bring them the contrast of balance. You, my Pisces, are incomprehensible. And for that, I love you oh so deeply.

My enigma,

To Pisces.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Dear Gemini,

Why does the world forsake your curious nature? Need not to worry- for the world does not exist within me. For I am aware of who you are and the love you have to share with so many in this world. I need to know and understand everything that beholds within your mind, for that way I am to connect to you. The way your words move so fast that I am honored by the opportunity to gain my strength. To keep up with your cognitive games is to know I am alive. To go between the winds of the world and fly amongst the clouds is not possible without you and your brilliance. Brilliance truly is the word for a being of your demeanor. How I would love to know that encompasses your mind, though that is a strength I know only you have the honor to behold. My Gemini, what ails you when you speak? For it is the matters of the world you yet not know, always so curious for knowledge. Do you know the knowledge that lies within yourself? I look to you with ease and I see someone that is made of a generous heart. An ever changing and growing soul. The freedom that lies within your being is one that can only be reflected upon, for no one but you could know the presence of such magic. There need be no games to play when I am within your presence, or the joy we make together is adventurous enough. You seek to know the names and details and fragments of all things that be. Do you know yourself in this medium? For you need not to, I hold this space for you. I hold the knowledge of all that is you, so that you can hold the knowledge of all else in the world- that is what love is to me, and that is what I know it be of you. I seek the honor of learning more about your youthful nature every moment of everyday that falls into the weeks, months, and years. Time need not constrict you in your mental plane. Trust in the holdings of my spirit, for they have endless amounts of pages for you to proceed your inner worlds onto. Need I remind you of the magic that holds beyond your mind? From places and lengths that are not yet understood to the masses? You are quick and nearly fleeting, I enjoy the games we play. The world has made space for you, because you have deemed it as such. This power you hold is one that others wish to obtain for themselves, this is why they forsake you, my love. We need not concern ourselves with the matters of the external Universe. For when I am loving you, all of the space and library and collection are here for you to return to. Know that I am the wind and the air that will add to yours. The only wish I wish to be, is in your world of continuous knowledge.

My brilliance,

My Gemini

╭────────── ♱ · 𓆩��𓆪 · ♱ ─╮

The Astrology Guidebook for how to love based on your Venus, Mars, & Juno placements….

╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

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kkoumiii · 2 years ago

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❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 | 김영훈⎾𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚⏌*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

/!\ Friendly reminder that my readings should not be taken at face value, I do not claim to hold the truth and I do not mean any harm to this idol, my readings are only for entertainment purposes. /!\

🌅 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖮𝖸𝖹 🌅

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:53

⊱ ʏᴏᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ's ϙᴜᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs ⊰

• Knight (Light Attribute) | The Magician | Moon ~ Soul •

- Younghoon is a romantic who daydreams about perfect scenarios

- He is a considerate gentleman and could easily be seen as the ideal son-in-law

- He is also gentle and sensitive yet pragmatic

- He is persuasive, which makes it easy for him to win people's sympathy

- The fact that he can quickly probe people’s needs and expectations must probably help him in the latter

- He definitely is popular with women —he needs to feel attractive—

- Charmer alert! He attracts people effortlessly with his bewitching eloquence and his charisma…

- Yet, once he is into something long-lasting with someone, he remains faithful to his lover

- He won’t hesitate to bend over backward and make sacrifices for his lover

- He has lots of fantasies he keeps to himself, some of them might even be a bit strange or unusual

- Material things help him stay grounded

- I think he doesn't have issues living in the present, but he still tends to look ahead a lot to stay motivated

- Once he sets his mind on something, he becomes combative and perseverant

- He finds a lot more satisfaction in the result than in the process

- Seems like he often has this “déjà-vu” feeling

- He has a pretty good balance between his masculine and feminine energy overall.

⊱ ʏᴏᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ's ғᴀᴜʟᴛs ⊰

• Angel (Shadow Attribute) | The Empress | Taurus ~ I have •

- Manipulative in the sense that he tends to use his angel face to get what he wants

- He knows how to use his charms and loves being surrounded by women

- As previously stated, his appearance is of great concern to him, hence his need for frequent validation and affirmation

- He finds it hard to stay single for too long

- It seems like he feels a sort of emptiness that he tries to compensate with love. He is constantly longing for love, which leads him to fill this internal gap with relationships

- For this reason, he gets attached to people quickly and takes time to move on

- Since he appreciates material things, it leads him to be a pretty big spender

- And he is always looking for a way to satisfy his desires, he has very fine taste and is a food lover. Since it came up in his faults part, I guess he can go to great lengths to satisfy his needs and senses in all shapes and forms

- He’s not the adventurous type, he would rather stay in his comfort zone

- Actually, he shows a more fragile and innocent side than what he truly is

- If there’s something he does not want to do, it’s hard to change his mind. As I already said, he prefers his comfort above everything else.

⊱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ϙᴜᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs ᴅᴏᴇs ʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇ? ⊰

• King (Shadow Attribute) | Scribe (Light Attribute) | The Hanged Man Rx | Uranus ~ Genius •

Younghoon respects those who are self-sufficient and confident, without waiting for approval. He values people who are well-cultivated, astute, and have a unique perspective, always seeking new knowledge. It seems that he admires traits that he may feel he lacks himself, such as spontaneity, adaptability, and determination. However, this does not necessarily mean he doesn't possess these qualities himself, but rather that he looks up to individuals who can make decisions easily and won't let anyone take advantage of them. He respects those who own some kind of power and can manage everything on their own —such as entrepreneurs— who are resourceful and can find solutions without boasting about it. Additionally, he appreciates individuals who have their own set of morals and values and are protective of their loved ones.

This reading was interesting to me since I find Younghoon quite intriguing. Let me know your opinion about it!

#the boyz tarot #tbz tarot #the boyz reading #younghoon #kim younghoon #younghoon the boyz #kpop tarot #kpop tarot reading #personality reading #younghoon tarot #the boyz

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newagesurvivalist · 6 months ago

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Chancelleries of scholarship

Authorities instill in us a distinct sense of admiration, perhaps, for the parade of life in which we each have a clever function: this is the nature of one's occupation - that he can move continuously to parade around in some general sense and realize his objectives, but still fashion a destiny out of the endless ruins of the past civilizations. We all have certain values of propriety, but what we see most of all is that the proper men and women of history build their legacy out of the truly spiritual struggle with the End, which is ever coming on; so, in this wise, we are capable only of ordinary actions towards the purpose of life, and we cannot see release from the traditional attitude in which wise men have educated us, or something - and so, we continue to ply our trade or reveal some deeper truth about life in gestures of mastery; things that are strong, but not essential. The fact is that we do have some kind of calling in the general profession of life; or rather, we aim towards some better kind of development, consisting of concerted projects, constantly instigated to defeat the mad elements that rail against the august order (which is not an order but merely a kind of anthem, or monument). We can move strenuously to mad locations in our minds - mad topics - and yet not get to that point where we can loiter forever to get the true spiritual creation ready; a fact proving we are still barbarians... or sycophants. Nevertheless, I will say that we can sing and dance until the breaking of the world.

We do many things, but there is a lot of strangeness in visceral temporizations. Good simplicity can actually aid us in liberty, but we may lose the assertivity of real damage. Actually, I spend so much time doing what is actually the case, that something may result out of detail-based reflection, but our kindness is only the restriction of disproportionate activity. The restriction will aid us: but the hallucination of freedom must not be underestimated, since all things are unknown.

Art and work are closely related. We see that a man can only have a distinct profession if he makes his work count on every corner. However, his wishes to make the world a better place lack some kind of meaningful entertainment, and we don't succeed in life. We must make the most of life. The thing is that there is so much under the sun that we do not yet get. A good man can power through the limits of the ordinary world and create paper conclusions that force through the juridical attenuations that will one day make the future of mankind manifest. The constant pressure of the possibility for freedom is a thing; truly, here we see the promise of capacity which is situated in our race, because we are just the oldest sect in the world. And there may be contrasted refutations in the harbour of our deepest desire. The strange thing in our deep cave under the surface of the Earth is that there is truly a moment where we can admire the contours of the better Earth where the wanderers of the old world still linger and we make sense of the compassionate clamour; here, our horror hides and we still must elucidate the qualities of the best empire that thought could bring forth in the consideration of the life of us; the thing determining our wretchedness in opposition to the fortunate rebuttal of the clang and pounding of war, but there will one day be peace of mind. Confucius must certainly wait for us in some area of the eternal world. The truely gentlemanly acquiescence. Besides this, I have no real faith, beyond the things that we expect, because there is always a great deal to expect for the life of us. So, in a nutshell, terrific events are waiting everywhere in this world around the buildings we built, and the street ever extends into the great beyond. The great structures of liberty and the liberal arts have given us only sorrow, as Ecclesiastes said: the more knowledge, the more grief. But in reality, there is a liberation from the ignorance. Truly, we shall achieve serenity in the gardens of Babylon or the colosseum. There will be some kind of expert attitude that we can adopt: truly, we can learn this from history, for the great kings of time watch over the common people forever. The true condescension of combat-situations does result in compassion, and so we can expect great things from politics in the future, but the question is, who will be deemed worthy? Will there be literal heroes? We have seen that the greatest men galvanized endless masses of wretches who are now considered the most dignified people in history. What will the future hold? Some kind of anarchism? I do think that we shall see a certain sacrality coming to surround the discipline of philosophy, because in fact we do see that people seem to be entirely unscrupulous people, but the slow march of ideas and scholarship continues. The cosmopoeia of liberal proportions, where liberty lies, is the governing pension of the truly proper life.

It seems during our lives we can make a vast variety of choices. Every day is a cornucopia of possibilities. However, in the course of our lives we rarely really have control. Most of our time is spend searching for food, or putting our house in order. In this way, we are confronted by a terrible state of affairs. We have to face the day. We make choices all the time. Once we have made the choice, is there any way that remains for us to carry out our task? It just happens on auto-pilot. Sartre said: we are our decisions. Some decisions we make in the here and now; others we have made long ago. Am I on auto-pilot now? Yes, partially: I have decided to do something; I have decided on a methodology: there's nothing more to be done. I can, if the moment allows for it, focus on future events; or I can just wait for that moment to arise. This is the process of decision-making that we have to understand. Without this understanding, there is no equanimity. I can make decisions beforehand; I still have to decide in the moment itself. When we philosophize, there might be a predicament where we dwell on a thought. Then we should simply stick to the plan. There is no philosophy outside of communication; and communication is life. When we articulate a simple position, our compassion may overflow in some final song, but the chancellery of compassion is a true sign-post of the endless labour of the state - verily, of a kind of overzealotry, that shall be fatal to the subject in the last analysis. I can set forth a disposition in the doctrine of political fervour, but ultimately the best men do only what is humble and kind.

I see the ordinary things happening all the time. I really think the future is coming on, but a reflection might flow out of our focus, and so we sit quietly: truly, remission is still a predicament of liveliness, and our finitude will be overtaken by our justice.

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etruatcaelum · 5 months ago

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Ringing silence.

Salem has no—recollection of moving, but as splinters of thought creep back, she finds herself with back pressed to the wall again and arms folded tightly around her chest, head low, eyes shut. Her heart kicks in her chest like it’s trying to tear free before–

surely you can’t see me standing over you with a match?

—if he– she knows—

(“I want an explanation,” she had hissed, and Cinder’s face wrenched with frustration and fear and steel defiance and hurt, glowing like an iron brand behind her eyes. “Please.”

Fractured uncertainty. “What do you care?”

“I will not,” Salem said, strained and suffocating inside this new fissure in her soul, “be angry if you tell me the truth. I promise.”

“He yelled at me,” Cinder spat—like a gauntlet thrown down, a mutinous challenge, like she dared Salem to break that promise; but not enough to disguise the hairline crack in her voice. “That’s all.”)

–knows Arthur—yells—

She cups a hand over her face, breathing hard. Tyrian had… raised his voice—but he was distraught and broken, and his shouting lacked that particular quality of rage.

It takes her several tries to pry open her throat again, and then her voice sounds brittle and strange even to herself; she whimpers, “Please– please…”

don’t yell. please don’t-

Salem gulps air, throat clicking when she swallows, and drags herself through with merciless determination. “You—are,” she chokes out, “not religious. I– I-I- I am.”

Inch by inch, she peels herself away from the wall; straightens her spine. The blind, primal instinct of that flinch lingers screaming in every fiber of her being, unwilling, but she is not a child anymore and she has faced worse horrors than this and the man shivering in terror across the hall is not her father–

“I am,” a bare whisper.

Hands folded behind her back, Salem lifts her chin and forces her breathing to slow. Wets her lips. Opens her eyes at last to meet his wall-eyed stare.

“Arthur,” she says, as gently as she can, “I’m not going to hurt you. I will—ask—that you do not raise your voice with me. It–” a shrill wheeze. “—it… please. Don’t.”

She takes a deep breath, and another.

“That said. I did ask your advice, and while I admire your determination to be forthright with him, and I have always appreciated your honesty, about this, Arthur, I am asking you to trust me. I–” Her eyes flutter closed, and when Salem opens them again their dimmed centers are gleaming crimson again. “I will show you the memories, if you would like.”

Moving with glacial slowness, Salem withdraws her hands from behind herself and combs them once more through her hair. The thought of bringing him into her place and unearthing that storeroom to relive the shattering of her faith for Arthur’s benefit nauseates her, but if that is what it takes in the end—

She will do it.

If she must.

“These–” One hand flits upward to grasp a fistful of her cloak, lifting it away from her shoulder to fully expose the scars. Black as rot, black as grimm, black as the talon she scrapes along the jagged crescent-outline of the dragon’s molar. “These are the marks my creators left me. He bit me,” she says flatly, trailing a fingertip from shoulder to hip along the line of his jaws, “and as I lay dying they judged that I had not yet suffered enough, and so they cast me into their fountain–” a sneer. “—and now I can never die.”

I will outlive him. I will end him.

Ozma and I will–

“My sin,” she purrs, a silken blade to flay that thought, “is that I prayed for my love to be returned to me from death. When I tell you that you are underestimating the harm you will do to Tyrian if you tell him that the way he worships me is not to my liking, I am not speaking of the terror he felt when I lost my temper for a single moment, and I am not speaking lightly.”

This time, she quells the impulse to move closer, though it makes her sway. Her eyes dart intently across his face, searching.

“You are, as you say, not a doctor of the mind,” she says softly, “and you are… sane. You see the marks of my hands upon his collar and hear that I lifted him off the floor and told him to stop groveling—and you hear what I have said to you—and you understand, and you are afraid for him because you have no reason to trust that I will not lash out again. I know. I know.”

Salem spreads her hands, palms upturned, the motion stuttering and uncertain. “I am no doctor of any kind, but I have been in the throes of such profound delusion that I could not distinguish dream from reality, and I have lived for thousands of years at a time no more sane than Tyrian is now. He will find a way to fit my outburst into the pattern of his beliefs. It will not be rational. It will seem as nonsense to you. But it will be real to him.

“He also trusts you. If you tell him that I hurt him because I hate his religion, you will mold his reality into this–” she grasps at her shoulder. “—and you will destroy him.”

Swallowing thickly, Salem continues, “But this has all—these last—the last little while—has been,” a momentary struggle for words. Then, reedily: “…bewildering. I think, unbalancing. He– I do not wish to diminish his grief, but—I– you were dead. Tyrian nearly—and Summer, her girls—Cinder, Cinder, again, I almost lost her in Atlas again—I-I–thought… you were dead. Tyrian was very kind to me. If you wish to tell him anything, tell him that. It pleased me to see the other faces he has… held back for fear that I would have no use for them. If your conscience demands that you must say something about the groveling…”

Her gaze slips sideways, settling upon the end of the hall while her brow furrowed in contemplation.

“…tell him,” she says clinically, “that he had raised himself so highly in my estimation by what he said to me before that it shocked me to hear him denigrating himself again. Tell him that he is forgiven entirely and the offense forgotten, and he is permitted to speak freely before me. And… and tell him—that he is allowed the use of my name.”

Glancing at Arthur again, she adds, “It… comes to the same end. But gently.”

Anything and everything he might say - defenses of why he feels the need to explain himself or be an authority on Tyrian, or why drip-feeding information to Tyrian via Summer isn't going to work (and why finding that out might make Tyrian think Summer only talks to him on Salem's orders), or why letting Tyrian stay, back then, would have done the opposite of offsetting his delusions, or asking for more information on this backstory she has apparently decided to share with him -

It all dies on Watts's lips when Salem lunges for and grabs him, and every rational, sensible thought he may have had is summarily replaced with letgoletgoletgo-

Barring her earlier post-injury behavior in the garden, Salem has never touched him. And a touch like this, well- he might have seen it as a mere emphatic gesture, even a month ago, but nearly being burned alive and living in fear and worry for eleven days and coming back to Tyrian in such bad shape and the lingering doubts that Salem values their presence here-

Gods. It leaves a mark on the psyche, doesn't it?

And so he recoils and thinks of torture he has seen Salem inflict upon Hazel, and thinks about Cinder dangling him over a building and setting him ablaze, and expects to be attacked. To be- thrown, or dragged down, or even killed outright, and in delirium and panic, he thinks my lab and- nonono, can't teleport, she'll just come with me-

(Something to practice later, scientific inquiry hums, despite the situation. How to not bring along anyone who grabs you that you don't want coming with you.)

Still - when she lets go of him and starts to move away, he does not step back but teleports back, only a few steps, and he is of course relieved not to end up in the middle of nowhere, like the last time he did this involuntarily, but-

"You asked- for my advice," he forces out. "Tyrian- needs- a direct command, he- seldom does it work to feed him little pieces of information or to just hope he takes a hint. I- He can be consoled, but he needs the information first, so he can process it at the same time that I calm him down."

(As if Arthur can even calm himself down, right now. Still, when Cinder had tried to kill him the first time - fuck, had he even told Salem about that - he'd spoken his mind, and it had worked, so-)

"I will not tell him you hate him or that you feel wrathful about him, but I saw the way you looked when you talked about his 'worship' and I will not pretend that any harm I could possibly do will compare to what will happen if he hears your hatred of his religion from you. And don't ask me about 'underestimating the harm I'll cause if I tell him you dislike the groveling' when you already told him as much by searing it into his collar!"

(In the resulting silence, regret over the outburst tastes acidic. He hopes that his first guess as to where Tyrian chose to retire is the right one, because he'll need to pop in, grab the man, and pop right back to anywhere else if Salem decides he has more worth dead than alive-)

"That," he adds, weakly, "is my advice."

#LEGENDS AND FAIRYTALES ( ic. )#THE MOON ALSO IS MERCILESS ( ic: salem. )#SO DAWN GOES DOWN TO DAY ( alt. v: rnsm. )#jocundcompany

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seahgreenhorn · 2 years ago

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(via Are 'We' Running Out of Time?)

Are 'We' Running Out of Time?Sublime-- adjective: of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe. verb: (of a solid substance) change directly into vapor when heated, yet, typically forming a solid deposit again on cooling. Or, elevate to a high degree of moral or spiritual purity or excellence.--Considered archaic. *** "Beware, brothers, for fear there should ever develop in any one of you a wicked heart lacking faith by drawing away from the living God; but keep on encouraging one another each day, as long as it is called “Today,” so that none of you should become hardened by the deceptive power of sin." Heb. 3:12, 13. *** "What do you perceive?", the 'Ancient of Days' makes of 'we' this sublime inquiry as our "Earth rotates once in about 24 hours with respect to the Sun, but once every 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4 seconds with respect to other distant stars." "Scientists reported that in 2020 Earth had started spinning faster, after consistently spinning slower than 86, 400 seconds per day in the decades before. On June 29, 2022, Earth's spin was completed in 1.59 milliseconds under 24 hours, setting a new record.3" Great minds active and keeping score. "Because of that trend, engineers worldwide are discussing a 'negative leap second' and other possible timekeeping measures.4 This increase in speed is thought to be due to various factors, including the complex motion of its molten core, oceans, and atmosphere, the effect of celestial bodies such as the Moon, and possibly climate change, which is causing the ice at Earth's poles to melt. " https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Earth's_rotation Instilling global fear, since not being considered Divine prophecy: “The righteous will possess the earth, and they will live forever on it.” Ps. 37:29. God “has established the earth on its foundations; it will not be moved from its place forever and ever.” Ps. 104:5. “A generation is going, and a generation is coming, but the earth remains forever.” Eccl. 1:4. Do not underestimate the Almighty's power: "The little one will become a thousand And the small one a mighty nation. I myself, Jehovah, will speed it up in its own time.”" Isa. 60:22. So again: "What do you perceive?", the 'Ancient of Days' makes of 'we' this sublime inquiry. Are 'We' Running Out of Time? Let us not be deceived: "Do not be misled: God is not one to be mocked. For whatever a person is sowing, this he will also reap; because the one sowing with a view to his flesh will reap corruption from his flesh, but the one sowing with a view to the spirit will reap everlasting life from the spirit. So let us not give up in doing what is fine, for in due time we will reap if we do not tire out." Gal. 6:7-9. Yes, "the time left is reduced. "The end of all things has drawn close. Therefore, be sound in mind, and be vigilant with a view to prayers." "And do this because you know the season, that it is already the hour for you to awake from sleep, for now our salvation is nearer than at the time when we became believers." 1 Cor. 7:29: 1 Pet. 4:7: Rom. 13:11.Photo credits:https://stock.adobe.com/images/time-travel-jump-into-the-time-portal-in-hours-high-quality-illustration/559570636 https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/previews/023/632/340/large_2x/man-standing-in-front-of-the-clock-time-is-running-out-concept-ai-generative-image-free-photo.jpg © 2 hours ago, Lucretia McCloud personal • teen • society • hope • love • death

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edenmemes · 4 years ago

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assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present.

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞ ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞ ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞ ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞ ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞ ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞ ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞ ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞ ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞ ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞ ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞ ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing? do you think it is a serious wound? ❞ ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞ ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞ ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞ ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞ ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞ ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞ ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞ ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞ ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞ ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞ ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞ ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞ ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞ ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞ ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞ ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞ ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞ ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞ ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞ ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞ ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞ ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞ ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞ ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞ ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞ ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞ ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞ ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞ ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞ ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞ ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞ ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞ ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞ ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞ ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞ ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞ ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞ ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞ ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞ ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞ ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞ ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞ ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞ ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞ ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about... about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞ ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞ ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞ ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞ ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞ ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞ ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞ ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞ ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞ ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞ ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞ ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞ ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞ ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞ ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞ ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞ ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞ ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞ ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞ ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞ ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞ ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞ ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞ ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞ ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞ ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞ ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞ ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞ ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞ ❝ people change. it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞ ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞ ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞ ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞ ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞ ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞ ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞ ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞ ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞ ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞ ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞ ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞ ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞ ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞ ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞ ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞ ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞ ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞ ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞ ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞ ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞ ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞ ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞ ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞ ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞ ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞ ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞ ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞ ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞ ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞ ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞ ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞ ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞ ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞ ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞ ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞ ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞ ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞ ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞ ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞ ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞ ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞ ❝ please, you must fight for me. who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞ ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞ ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞ ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞ ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞ ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞ ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞ ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞ ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞ ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞ ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞ ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞ ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞ ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞ ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞ ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞ ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞ ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞ ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞ ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞ ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞ ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞ ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞ ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞ ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞ ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞ ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞ ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞ ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞ ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞ ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞ ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end. that i will not allow. ❞ ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞ ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞ ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞ ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞ ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞ ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞ ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞ ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞ ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞ ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞ ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞ ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞ ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞ ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞ ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞ ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞ ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞ ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞ ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞ ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞ ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.) ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞ ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞ ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞ ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞ ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.) ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞ ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞ ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞ ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞ ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞ ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞ ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞ ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞ ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞ ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞ ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞ ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞ ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞ ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /

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neoheros · 5 years ago

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fuckboy! bokuto headcanons

— find the fuckboy! masterlist here ♡

the day you and bokuto met was one of the most annoying days of your life

hands down, even the thought of reminiscing what that day put you through is enough to send chills down your spine

it was your first year in a new school and work had already been piled on you mercilessly

you had plans on going to a high quality university once you graduated so you figured you’d better start on extra curriculars as soon as possible

of course when you joined the school newspaper and student council you didn’t really expect to end up being that busy

you, on the verge of tears: hi are you taking in member applications because i’m short on one sports activity and i really don’t want that to be the reason why my favorite uni rejected me because i’ll be damned if volleyball ruins my life and—

bokuto, alarmed: please stop crying

he was the only silver lining that day that made it worth it to recall how hard your first year was

now you’re both graduating and close as ever that you’re actually kind of thankful that you went through all that just to meet him

he wasn’t exactly the most attentive boy in class but what he lacked in academics he made up for in sports

when you saw him play volleyball for the first time, you were flat out star struck at his skills and that’s when you understood why so many girls would go after him

he had a reputation in school and you were well aware of the fact that hanging around him meant that getting hated by his numerous dates and flings

you didn’t care though, you were there to graduate and get a fantastic gpa like everyone expected you to

you told bokuto all this the first time he tried to hit on you and at first he was confused to why you’d turn him down but then you offered him to be friends instead and he was more than ecstatic to accept

so now you’re in the running to graduate senior year in the honor roll and all your references have been backed up by solid hard work and proof that you’re sure if the uni doesn’t accept you then it’s going to be their fault and not yours

you: at this point i’m gonna be the most eligible college applicant there is

bokuto: but at the cost of blowing me over every time i ask to hang out 😔

you: personally i find those to be the highlight of our friendship

being best friends with bokuto is quite literally the meaning of getting the best of both worlds

he was there to redirect your focus when you were clearly too frantic to remember your goals but he was also the one to drag you out for a break or two when you’re too deep in your head

“i’m with someone right now but i had to ask— have you eaten yet?” he says into the phone, smiling shyly at his date who’s kind enough to let him take a minute to himself.

you snort, “i have this new technique where i get through my chapters and diet at the same time and it’s basically a win win situ—”

you hear him sigh and mumble an apology to the person he was with, shuffling over the phone as you try to tell him you were gonna be fine

bokuto: i’m on my way and just so you know, you owe me

you: bro this was from your own volition

he snaps you a photo of him in his car with a gloomy expression, but you’re quick to notice the mcdonald’s sign in the corner

you snap him back, “if ur getting me food, get me a mcflurry too ok <3”

to which he replies almost too quickly with a picture of himself giving you a thumbs up and the caption, “i know i’m not an idiot”

he takes care of you a lot and sometimes you find yourself guilty for putting that obligation on him but he never fails to reassure you that it felt nice to be committed to someone every now and then

you: you know that you’d actually be a good boyfriend if you stopped slutting around right

bokuto: you know that you’d actually be a good girlfriend if you stopped dating your books right

you, defeated: touché asshole

when it came to you, you just didn’t have time to worry about relationships and whatnot

you saw how your friends would get obsessed over them and completely derail their futures just to live in the ‘now’ of it all

you obviously called bullshit on that but could they blame you? you had high expectations for your life and you were sure as hell not gonna let some guy take you away from that

besides, you were best friends with the guy that made girls believe in love and break their hearts in one weekend, if the universe wanted you to have faith in dating then maybe they should’ve thought this one through

your phone dinged, ruining the silence you so enjoyed as bokuto peered over your shoulder to see what it was about

“hi ! i’m from your class and i’ve always found you so pretty, would you mind going ou—” he read aloud in a laugh and you delete the message before he could finish

bokuto: yknow one of these days you’re gonna get murdered by one of your admirers who just couldn’t let anyone else have you

you: and i will thank them for that 😌✨

“if you’re turning down all these men because you’re waiting for me to ask you out then all you have to do is say so.” he grins, and it gets wider when he sees you divert all your attention towards him.

you look at him dead in the eye, “no.”

his expression drops, pointing at his heart as he pouts, “that’s hurtful.”

you roll your eyes, telling him all about the plans that you would rather prioritize over falling in love, going on and on about how it would bring you nothing but setting you back and all that

he could only cross his arms as he listens to you ramble, amazed at how you’re saying so many things and all of them were just flat out wrong

it used to hurt him when you talked about swearing off love but the more he listened to it over the years the more amusing it got

he knew one day you’d end up finding someone to love the way he thinks he loves you and maybe it’d be him or maybe it’d be someone you just haven’t met yet

one day you’d realize how important it is to feel and give love to those who mean much to you

maybe you’d even notice the signs that he’s been trying to give you all these years

but in the mean time, you were his problem to deal with, and he didn’t mind taking all the words you said about hating love as long as he could spend every moment of it with you.

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rumblelibrary · 4 years ago

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The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster. The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler. This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others. Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies. John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven.

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together. He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it. A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp. Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention? To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one. I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon?

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch. I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice. I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts. I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat. The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man.

#dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x reader #the alienist fanfic #victorian age #v writes #the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler

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ducavalentinos · 3 years ago

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Hi there ! What do you know about the Cesare and Charlotte of Albret relationship? Alexander VI was really a monster as they say? Thanks.

Hi! So sorry taking this long to answer! :(( I think everything that I do know about them I shared here, under this tag and/or this one. As for pope Alexander VI, well, I suppose it depends on your standards of what makes a monster, anon, but it was papal historian Ludwig Pastor, who was hardly a sympathizer of Alexander, his papacy and/or the Borgia family, that said:

Nothing can be more false than the ordinary conception of Borgia as a morose and inhuman monster.

And on that, he was correct. If we go by the historical material about Rodrigo and his papacy, we can say he was no monster. He was a man and pope of his times, and many are quick to criticize him or assess his papacy as the worst due to the so-called nepotism (there’s a lot of criticism over this practice, but imo it usually lacks a little reflection and understanding as to why this practice came about and why popes adopted it) although other popes were no different than him on that aspect, and many were worse with it, but they don’t quite receive the same level of criticism,sometimes outright condemnation for it. Della Rovere, later pope Julius II, followed much of Alexander’s papal policies, and I’d argue he aimed at finish what Alexander had begun during his papacy, they might have been bitter rivals, but they shared much of the same outlook and goals regarding the Church, power, and politics, and to a point he was successful, he could have been more imo, only he lacked Rodrigo’s diplomacy, he was quick to rage, and he lacked his political mind, (he also lacked a son like Cesare by his side heh........), and during his papacy there was a lot more violent conflics in Italy than during the papacies of his predecessors, yet he is not labelled a monster and his papacy is not seen as the worst thing that ever happened in the history of the Vatican, nor should he be btw, but it is an interesting situation where raises the question: why is one pope labelled as a monster and the other isn’t? if they shared much of the same policies and Julius’s papacy was more turbulent and violent than Alexander’s papacy ever was? Rodrigo Borgia’s reputation, that of a monster, a wicked man, an utterly corrupted, depraved pope, etc, and the view of his papacy as this abomination where all evil was committed is a product of the words of his detractors and bitter rivals, and it’s intimately connected to politics: to his political projected, how much he dared as a pope to go against the Roman barons and other noble families, as well as a matter of nationality and social rank. In my view, Rodrigo was a remarkable man, really, with his qualities and his flaws, he clearly was a good lover/husband in all but name to Vannozza dei Cattanei, and a good, loving father to his children. And as a pope, even if I didn’t loved the Borgia family as much as I do, I think he’d still be on my list of favorite popes, because given all his years inside the Curia, he knew exactly how to operate both roles necessary for a pope: that of the ecclesiastic leader and that of the prince of the Church, the monarch, the politician. He was intelligent and pragmatic. He wasn’t a crazy zealot, nor an extremist, nor a hypocritcal moralist. He had a inclination to always try to find the right balance between things and his actions were mostly guided by reason rather than blind faith or any personal feelings or prejudices he may have had, and I admire that a lot, these are qualities I believe leaders should have. When possible he'd try to mediate peace and work through diplomatic, legal means rather than impulsively going for open conflicts and chaos, he understood the risks of the latter tactic and Rodrigo was a very careful man, too. It’s fascinating for me to watch his political moves, his checkmates against his enemies, it’s so clever and sophisticated, I’d love to have a conversation with him about politics because his mind was so sharp for that. Also I like the way he enjoyed life and how he persevered for so long in an hostile environment where so many were rooting for his failure and his death (and indeed many tried to do something about that), so yeah, overall I just find him a very complex, human individual who led such an interesting, vivacious life, and who mostly had a good papacy for his times, actually. I disagree with author Chamberlin on many things, his work is the least reliable one concerning the Borgia family, but I’ll leave this quote he writes about Rodrigo here because I think it was one of his good moments, one where he was able to give a good summary about Rodrigo:

[...]Pius saw Borgia as a hardworking, good-humored man who made friends easily, enjoyed life enormously but usually took care to conform to the relatively puritanical standards established by the pope. He seemed, like his uncle before him, to have little interest in the speculative ferment of his day. Highly intelligent, he was essentially a pragmatist, using his intellectual abilities for strictly practical ends. But he delighted in display and possessed a talent for organizing those flamboyant religious spectacles, such as the Corpus Christi pageants, that were becoming increasingly part of social life. E.R Chamberlin - The Fall of the House of Borgia

#anon ask #ask answered #pope alexander vi #rodrigo borgia #cesare borgia #charlotte d'albret #house borgia in history

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journalxxx · 4 years ago

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By Hook or by Crook (1)

"Is it possible to become a hero like you even without using any quirks?" Toshinori thought that it was a strange question. Strangely worded, and with too obvious an answer to be worth asking. Still, he stopped. The memory of a similarly naive middle-schooler from way too long ago made him pause. He shouldn't have paused. Another impossibly shrill scream erupted from the boy when Toshinori tried to reassure him of his identity, and turned up with a mouthful of blood instead. What a charming day this was proving to be. Almost an entire night spent awake due to his old wound deciding to make a fuss and disregard any sort of painkillers he threw at it, a frustrating morning followed by an equally frustrating afternoon he had struggled to navigate through with the alertness of a drunken sloth, which had caused him to get lost in the sewers while chasing a dangerous criminal, as well as fail to notice a whole human being sticking to his leg as he took off at the speed of several hundreds kilometres per hour, and now this.

Toshinori took a proper gander at the brand new crack in his privacy. He was a freckled, scrawny thing, with unruly green hair and enough jitters to be picked up by the nearest seismographs, probably.

"How... How? Is it- are you- are..." The boy stuttered, pale and physically shivering from the shock. "Is... was that your quirk? A transformation quirk?" He brought a hand to his mouth, subconsciously mimicking Toshinori as he wiped the blood from his lips. "That hurts you when you use it?" "...Something of the sort." It was an explanation as good as any. They stared at each other for a few moments, before the kid dropped his gaze and started muttering to himself. Toshinori could barely make out the words, but it seemed to be something about internet forums and theories about All Might's quirk. Toshinori sighed and sat down on the concrete, leaning his back against the railing to catch some much needed breath. There was no point in running off now, was there? He supposed the most sensible thing to do at this point was to have a little chat with the boy, if only to ascertain whether he was capable or willing to keep such a momentous secret. He waited for the boy to finish his quiet soliloquy... for two or three minutes, during which the onslaught of words didn't show any sign of dwindling. He politely cleared his throat, and the young man's attention was immediately back on him. "What's your name, boy?" "Uh... Izuku. Izuku Midoriya." "Midoriya." Toshinori acknowledged with a nod. "And you're quirkless, I take it." "Oh... Uh... Uhm..." Midoriya snappily clasped his hands behind his back and his eyes darted around as if caught stealing jam. It was an understandable reaction, if a tad overblown, Toshinori thought. Quirklessness was rare these days, and never something one could be proud of. His own powerlessness had frustrated him in his youth, and it positively tore at him in the present, now that his physical condition rendered him functionally quirkless for more than twenty hours a day. "Regarding your first question..." Toshinori paused, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Was there any way of putting this kindly? "Surely you realize the huge dangers and requirements that come with a hero's profession. Pros risk their lives every day, and in order to even make a livelihood out of it, they need to achieve a certain amount of success and visibility. Frankly, I'd advise anyone with a less than exceptional quirk, either in terms of combat ability or versatility, to think very carefully about undertaking this career path. To think of someone without a quirk attempting it..." Midoriya's head dropped again. "I... I see... But what if...?" The boy bit his lip and trailed off with a conflicted look. He shook his head, apparently reaching some private conclusion, and continued. "It's just... I've always admired you so much! Saving people with a fearless smile is just about the most inspiring and incredible thing one can do! If only everyone followed your example-" "I should hope they wouldn't have to!" Toshinori interjected decisively. "You know, the world I dream of is one where only few of the very strongest have to bear the hero's burden, so that all the more people can be free to enjoy their lives without fear or extreme sacrifices. We aren't there yet, not by a long shot, but..." He allowed himself a little smile. "I'm sure happy to know I'm inspiring courageous and driven citizens such as yourself." Midoriya's face immediately acquired a marked tomato hue. A small barrage of stuttered thanks followed. Toshinori raised a hand to stop him. "Look, kid. Your heart is in the right place and there's nothing worthier in life than pursuing your dreams, but... I cannot in good conscience encourage you to follow a path that would ultimately destroy you. You have no hope of becoming a hero - no hope to survive as a hero without a quirk, and a damn good one at that. As you can see..." Toshinori gestured towards himself, unable to keep his smile from turning sour. "Not even I can be a hero like me without using my quirk." Midoriya took it better than Toshinori was expecting, all things considered. Those anxious eyes roved around his gaunt form for a few moments, sympathetic and a tad disturbed. But the boy's features soon composed themselves into a look of calm thoughtfulness. "I understand." He nodded, straightening up his back, only to curl slightly upon himself all over when doubt reared its head again. "I guess... I'll just have to find a different solution..." "Indeed. If helping people is your goal, there are plenty of professions that regularly achieve that. Healthcare professionals, lawyers, policemen, firefighters, social workers-" "I know, I know..." Midoriya's expression became distant. No doubt it wasn't the first time he received such a speech. Children these days received their first career advice as early as primary school, during the mandatory quirk counselling sessions, to help them better understand how their abilities could be nurtured and directed into constructive endeavors for the benefit of the whole community. Now that Toshinori thought of it... did quirkless children like Midoriya even receive any such counselling? The program didn't exist when Toshinori himself was a kid, so he realized he didn't quite know. A lack of career counselling would explain the boy's irrealistic hopes. "If you are dead set on working in the heroics field, there are options there as well." Toshinori added, determined to do at least one thing right that day and offer the poor kid a grain of useful advice. "Have you considered working as a support item engineer or as a quirk analyst, for example? You certainly seem to have the qualities for jobs like these." "Uh? How can you say that?" "I took the liberty of flipping through your notebook before signing it." Toshinori tapped his temple as the boy's cheek tinged with pink again. He really wore his heart on his sleeve, didn't he? "You seem to have quite a well-organized mind, and keen observation skills. If I were you, I wouldn't underestimate how far those two talents could bring you in the right field." "Ah... Thank you! I- it's just a hobby, nothing more! But thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to answer my question! And give me advice! And listen to-" It devolved into another short stream of gratefulness and humility. Toshinori deemed his impromptu orientation session a job decently done and he finally stood up. His left side gave a sharp twinge. He couldn't wait to be back home, stun it with a generous helping of ibuprofen and hopefully catch up on a few hours of sl- ah crap, he'd left his grocery bag near the manhole he had emerged from, hadn't he? Maybe it would be quicker to just do the whole shopping again at the closest convenience store... "Now, about what you just saw..." Toshinori approached the boy, lowered his voice and scanned his surroundings automatically, as if there was anyone who could overhear them on the small rooftop they were standing on. "I don't think I need to point out that it would be really, really bad if voices of a secretly emaciated Symbol of Peace were to start circulating, on the web or by other venues-" Midoriya raised his head from the deep bow he had maintained for the last good minute, eyes wide. "O-oh! Of course-" "But I'm going to do it anyway. It would be really bad. Catastrophic. Not only for me, because I would know exactly who put the rumors forth and I would have some choice words for said source, smash being one of them." He had meant it in jest, but the terrified expression on Midoriya's face warned him not to put too much faith on the boy's sense of humour. He showed the palms of his hands in the universal gesture for I'm not going to smash anything. "...I'm joking! Obviously. But I do need to know if I can count on your utmost discretion." "O-Of course! Your secret is safe! I swear it on my life, All Might! No one will know!" There was no doubting the fervor radiating from Midoriya's every pore. Toshinori nodded and squeezed the boy's shoulder while also not-so-subtly pushing him towards the door to the stairs. "Good to know, good to know. Now, let us both be off." Toshinori moved towards the exit as well, patting the pocket of his cargo pants. "I have to hand this guy over to the nearest precinct before-" His hand patted rough cloth and the wiry muscle of his thigh, and nothing inbetween. Toshinori stopped in his tracks and checked his right pocket. Then his left one. Both empty. He gazed around the rooftop in confusion, noticing a clear lack of plastic containers on the barren expanse of concrete. "Hey, have you seen..." He started, glancing at Midoriya. Who was staring at his empty pockets in obvious distress, both hands covering his mouth as if to keep himself silent. Something cold gripped Toshinori's scrambled insides. "...the bottles... where..." Toshinori's sleep-deprived brain pieced it all together with frustrating slowness. Loose trousers pockets. Clingy boy. Hundreds of kilometres per hour. Gravity. RIght on cue, a loud explosion made them turn their heads in unison, and a black cloud of smoke erupted among a cluster of buildings a little to the south of the one they were standing on. "...Shit." A small part of Toshinori's mind added 'cursing in front of a child' to the impressive streak of fuck-ups he was accumulating in a single day, but most of his evidently dwindling faculties were busy trying to come up with a way to unravel the current predicament. He marched to the door without wasting another moment. "Go home. Take a detour if you have to, just stay well away from there." "It's my fault." Once again, despite Toshinori's better judgement, the boy's words compelled him stop. Even muffled by Midoriya's hands, his whispers sounded positively agonized. "I made you drop them. It's my fault. Oh God, what do I...?" "What? Don't be absurd! You didn't do anything, I should have-" It came out more harshly than he thought, and the kid's horrified eyes snapped back to him. God, he hated seeing him blame himself for what was clearly Toshinori's blunder - a blunder unworthy of the greenest of rookies, let alone of the celebrated number one hero - but there was really no time to waste self-recriminating. "Look, just go home. I'll-" "I can't! None of this would have happened if I'd just-" Midoriya burst out, halting his own words just as abruptly and wringing his hands guiltily. "I have to help! I can help! Let me-" "All right then." Toshinori said, and his ready agreement shocked the boy into silence just as he had expected. Telling him to wait around and do nothing wasn't going to work with that hero-obsessed mentality of his, so he chose a different approach. "Here's what you'll do. You'll stay here until you've calmed down enough to keep your wits about you. Then you'll go to the nearest police station - there's one just over there - and tell the officers what just happened. Minus the part where you've seen me like this, obviously-" "How's that going to help?! They can see the smoke, by the time I get there they'll already know-" "We don't know if that explosion is the villain's doing. It might be unrelated, and in that case the villain would be still at large." Toshinori explained with his most commanding tone, despite the urge to dash off. "Even if it is connected to the villain, I scooped him up into two bottles. We don't know if each half is capable of causing damage on its own. You have to alert the police so that they can start searching for both as quickly as possible. I'll take care of whatever that accident is." Despite the panic, Midoriya seemed to process his words. He gulped, and gave him a worried once-over. "But... can you fight again? Even like that?" "Tsk! I'd expect more trust from a fan." One more for the road, Toshinori coached himself. He reached into his quirk and flexed, his muscle form puffing up dutifully and his trademark smile slotting back in place. He gave the boy a confident thumbs up. "I'll have this solved before you can blink!" Toshinori flung himself down the stairway before Midoriya could come up with more objections. He managed five flights of stairs before his quirk failed him again and one hundred and eighty kilos of muscles went up in steam. He stumbled as he coughed up more blood, his scar hurting like it was trying to murder him, but he didn't stop. Hopefully the boy would follow his orders and make himself marginally useful, and more importantly he would keep himself out of trouble and away from the danger zone. Meanwhile, Toshinori... well, he'd have to clean up his own mess in some way or another.

Izuku stood stock-still for a good minute before his body reconnected to his brain. A lot had happened in the last half an hour, there was... there was a lot to unpack there. First things first, his duty. The admittedly sensible instructions given to him by All Might himself. Point number one was regaining a semblance of lucidity. His legs felt like jelly, so he simply let himself slump to the ground and breathe deeply. Never in a million years, not even in the darkest and most conspiratorial corners of the net, Izuku would have ever imagined to discover what he had discovered about All Might. All Might had a quirk... that debilitated him? Some sort of temporary performance-enhancing boost that wore his body down whenever he used it? Because what Izuku had just seen wasn't the body of a healthy person, not even remotely. Pale, hunched, with barely any flesh hanging from his still oversized bones, with sunken eyes and non-existent cheeks. Totally unperturbed by the gush of blood spurting from his mouth, as if that was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. Was it the result of decades of continued usage? Was Japan's Symbol of Peace constantly and deliberately harming himself in order to do his job? Izuku had experienced firsthand that powerful quirks came with unforeseen drawbacks, but this... this was... This was none of his business, Izuku chided himself. All Might was... All Might. Number one hero. An unprecedent and yet unsurpassed phenomenon. He knew what he was doing, for sure. It was presumptuous of Izuku to even doubt that he did. He had said he would take care of things, and he was certainly going to. Izuku scratched his head furiously, as if to rid himself of those intrusive thoughts. He felt better, more grounded. Time to move onto step two. He made his way down the stairs and out of the building, slowly, mindful of the lingering dizziness, careful not to trip and cause himself and others further troubles. The street was full of curious onlookers glancing at the rising column of smoke, filming it with their phones and chattering about it among themselves. Luckily, Izuku spotted a policeman almost immediately, as he was busy trying to disperse the small crowds and redirect the traffic. He recounted his tale, purged from gossip-inducing details, to the zealous officer, who promptly reported it to his superiors via his radio. There, he'd accomplished his task. Quick and effortless. The last item on his to-do last was heading home. Izuku stood on the sidewalk, contemplating the enlarging black cloud. Smaller explosions could still be heard popping in the air now and then. It had been at least ten minutes since All Might's departure and, judging by the heated talking coming from the officer nearby, the crisis hadn't been solved yet. Izuku thought back of how All Might had left the building using the stairs, instead of one of his much quicker, much more efficient leaps. A gnarling unease gripped his stomach, and his feet started moving on their own. He just couldn't get it out of his head. His idol's shrunken body, the immense tiredness that seeped through his every movement when in that form, his stern request for discretion. Your very life and safety may depend on your discretion, Izuku. Izuku shivered. Accidents aside, he had acted for the best, hadn't he? Despite everything... Civilians were not allowed to use quirks freely on public grounds, even though exceptions could be made in case of blatant self-defense. But even if he had used his quirk to stop the sludge villain by himself, what would he have done afterwards? He doubted he could use his newly acquired quirk effectively, and in a quirkless fight against an adult, he would have gotten the short end of the stick anyway. Not to mention the aftermath. Questions. His quirk revealed. Suspicion and distrust. Izuku's legs brought him to the site of the accident in a rushed daze, as his thoughts wandered in circles. He peered beyond the crowd of onlookers, and the scene he witnessed froze the blood in his veins. It was a disaster. The sludge villain was indeed responsible for it, and he had a hostage as well, tightly wrapped in layers and layers of goo. Numerous fires surrounded the captor and his victim, the heat and destruction giving them an almost hellish appearance. Almost half a dozen of heroes were already involved, but none of them seemed capable of creating an opening or coming up with a plan to face the situation. A veritable tragedy was unfolding before everyone's eyes, and no one was moving an inch to stop it. Izuku gazed around in a frenzy, searching for the one man who could and would solve it all. He spotted him quickly enough, his wild blond mane making him easy to pinpoint even with his gaunt frame huddled against a wall. All Might, the number one hero, looked like he was barely managing to stand on his feet. Hunched over, jaw clenched, one hand holding onto the nearest lamppost, the other clutching his side tightly, bright blue eyes dimmed in frustration and trained on the grim spectacle unfolding in the fiery lane. The sight dispelled any remaining doubt in Izuku's mind. All Might couldn't intervene. He couldn't use his quirk freely, either because of some pre-existing hard limit, or in fear of the repercussions it would have on his body. He had had to waste some of his limited stamina to save Izuku earlier that day - save him from a danger that Izuku could have, should have at least tried to handle himself - and now he was too drained to help. And the current hostage was paying for that - Izuku's heart nearly stopped as said hostage suddenly thrashed about enough to free a small portion of his face, enough for Izuku to recognize him, as more explosions boomed and set ablaze more of the surrounding buildings. Kacchan. Izuku moved without thinking, his mind blank. In that moment, he couldn't think about anything - not his father's recommendation, not his fear of exposure, not his weakness or inexperience, not the Symbol of Peace, not even his crushing guilt - except one thing. He couldn't let Kacchan die for his mistakes. A lot happened, very quickly, too quickly for him to process. The crowd and the heroes screamed. The villain saw him and readied a blow. Izuku barely dodged it by bodily throwing himself to the side, blindly. He landed hard on something that felt like overheated metal, but it didn't hurt too much. A slimy arm impacted solidly against the asphalt, missing him by mere centimetres. Goo from the monstruous limb splattered all around, staining his clothes. Without thinking, he reached for the green mass with both hands, let his palms sink into it, closed his eyed to focus and just did it. There was a strong gust of wind, as if a very fast car had suddenly raced past him and barely missed him, at the same time as he heard the asphalt crack a little to his left. Suddenly, all went perfectly still and silent. Izuku gulped, and forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was All Might's massive back. Roaring muscles filling his oversized clothes amidst thin strands of steam, the hero was standing in full bulk right between him and the villain, his right arm raised and poised as if charging a punch, but completely motionless. There was no more sludge around Izuku's hands, nor anywhere in the street. Peeking between All Might's legs, Izuku saw Kacchan twitching weakly on the ground, and another person standing beside him. A thin, flabby-looking guy, with an ashen complexion and not a single hair on his head, face or bare chest. A blood-curling scream erupted from the man's - the villain's - mouth. As he stared in stark horror at himself - probably seeing his human limbs for the first time in his life, Izuku realized - the weird silence and stillness instantly receded. The heroes rushed forward to help Kacchan and apprehend the panicking criminal, the crowd cheered, and All Might turned to look at Izuku. There was no smile on his face. Izuku had never seen the Symbol of Peace without his usual cheery attitude. He realized the hero looked a lot less reassuring without it, and a lot more... purely, bleakly intimidating. The sheer magnitude of what Izuku had just done suddenly hit him like a train. He scrambled to his feet, heart beating wildly in his chest, and sprinted towards the closest alley. He heard All Might's voice calling to him, but he ignored it and ran, ran until his lungs burned with the effort and the tears made it impossible to see where he was going.

An undefined number of streets and turns and forks later, Izuku stopped. He collapsed against the closest wall, gasping for air and clutching at his jacket in a desperate effort not to succumb to hysteria. He'd done it. He'd used his quirk in front of a whole crowd of civilians and heroes. There was no hope of avoiding the consequences of that. Kacchan would dispel any doubt the police may have about what had transpired. Even though his childhood friend had kept quiet about it for years, out of... Fear? Respect? Leverage? Izuku honestly had no idea - there was no reason for him to shield him from the official investigations. It was out of Izuku's hands now. But maybe... maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He had saved his friend from a gruesome fate, first of all, which was undoubtedly good. And maybe his father was plainly wrong, maybe their quirk could be tolerated, even accepted by society at large. Maybe even trained for the purpose of- "Midoriya!" Izuku's stomach did another somersault. All Might's skinny silhouette had just emerged from a nearby road and was approaching him quickly, one long arm raised to catch his attention. Oh God, Izuku had hoped he'd be too busy to chase him right off the bat. He'd hoped he could at least make it back home and talk with his father, with his mother before... "There you are! Why did you run off like- Hey, are you hurt?" All Might asked, immediately grabbing his arm to support him when Izuku wobbled dangerously. The man eyed his side worriedly, and Izuku finally remembered to check it himself. His jacket was torn and singed where he had fallen on the burning debris, but the layers of clothing underneath were surprisingly intact, and so was Izuku. "No no, I'm fine, thank you. I just... I guess I was scared of being told off for rushing in." Izuku offered with a poor attempt at a smile. "More afraid of being reproached than of facing a villain head on? You're an odd one, all right." All Might chuckled, visibly amused. "Law enforcers can be sticklers for non-professional quirk usage rules, but I don't think you would have gotten into too much trouble, all things considered." "I-I see... well... I guess I'll have to deal with it anyway, sooner or later..." "Ah... Not necessarily. I don't think anyone other than me realized what you did. In fact..." All Might rubbed the back of his neck with an oddly embarassed grimace. "I think I may have... sort of accidentally taken the merit of what happened back there. People saw me and just assumed I smashed the sludge off the villain faster than the eye can see. Journalists were already showing up and I was running quite low on stamina, so I scampered off before, you know... " He gestured at himself eloquently. "I can release an official statement later to rectify the matter, if you want. I'd hate to steal the spotlight of an aspiring hero." Izuku blinked. No one else knew? Kacchan hadn't talked? Or had All Might fled before he could hear his account? Probably the latter. And... "Aspiring hero?" "Indeed. It seems I have made some wrong assumptions about you." All Might positively beamed, ruffling his own hair and regarding Izuku with a sort of challenging grin that made Izuku squirm on the spot. "You aren't quirkless at all, are you?" "I never said I was..." Izuku tried to deflect lamely, hoping not to sound too cheeky. All Might merely laughed in response. "Very true! A variant of Erasure, isn't it? I've never seen any Erasure quirk work on mutant types, but I guess it is true that the new generations are naturally more endowed." "Uh... Y... Yeah..." Izuku heard himself say. He... He didn't want to lie. There wasn't even any point in lying considering that Kacchan was going to expose the truth anyway. But Izuku's mouth had been basically running on autopilot since his idol had materialized into his life, and his brain seemed to have lost the computational power to rein it in when said hero was in the vicinity. "That's good! Very good! Why would you be concerned about not using your quirk?" All Might scratched his chin thoughtfully. He seemed strangely unbothered by the fact that Izuku hadn't corrected him earlier, prompting him to waste valuable time of his day to bestow misplaced advice. "I guess Erasers tend to be somewhat at a disadvantage with rescue operations and solo missions... But I can assure you that, when it comes to apprehending villains, any combat specialist would beg to be teamed up with an Eraser. They're the absolute best support in case of quirk misfires and misuse... As you've just proven yourself." All Might seemed hell bent on encouraging Izuku's dream, now that he saw a real chance of success for him. Izuku was... moved, honestly, and sincerely grateful. But the hero was, once again, wasting his words. That wasn't Izuku's quirk, Izuku's quirk was far more sinister in its mechanics, far less likely to be requested or even endorsed by the hero community. Far more powerful, frighteningly so. Would All Might even be standing so close to the boy, within an arm's length, if he knew what would befall him if a hint of greed or envy pushed Izuku to- "Don't look down on yourself, kid." A bony yet amicable hand squeezed Izuku's shoulder, ripping him out of his meandering thoughts. All Might was smiling openly, his voice tinged with a softness that was entirely at odds with his haggard looks. "Your quirk might be less flashy than others, but I've seen enough today to know that you're definitely hero material, both in skills and heart." The really important thing is recognizing your own flesh and blood. Recognizing yourself. Izuku had been thinking a lot about that old interview of All Might's lately. The closer the UA admission test got, the more he found himself doubting his father's pessimistic take on the villainous nature of their quirk, and the more he wondered if he shouldn't trust himself, recognize himself, with enough conviction that everyone else would simply have to trust and recognize him too, eventually. It was easier said than done, of course. Spending the first twelve years of his life as quirkless hadn't exactly geared him towards building oodles of self-confidence. But he had to start somewhere. And if there was anyone in the world who was likely to see and trust and recognize Izuku for who he was, villanous quirk or not... it had to be him. The man who was the living embodiment of hope, reliability, rectitude and positivity. The man who apparently had a quirk with such a detrimental side effect that he ought to avoid resorting to it like the plague, and yet who kept using anyway, for the sake of the people. The man who was standing right in front of Izuku, giving it his all to obliterate his insecurities with sensible and kind words, with something awfully akin to pride for him shining in his clear eyes. If there was anyone that could change Izuku's world, it was All Might. "I, ah... actually, I... that isn't my quirk." "Oh?" All Might would have raised an eyebrow, if he had any. "Then what is it?" "I..." Izuku gulped. "I can take quirks. From other people. Permanently. And use them as my own." Silence. Not a muscle had moved on All Might's face, but suddenly his smile seemed a lot less alive, and a lot more set in stone. Izuku willed himself to keep speaking. "That's what I did to the villain. I stole- I took his quirk. It was the fastest way to stop him. The only way I could think of. It... worked quite well, uh?" Izuku offered a tentative smile, at the same time as All Might's started to fade. That... didn't bode well. But of course not even All Might could react to such a piece of information with immediate enthusiasm, it was a lot to take in, Izuku understood that. No doubt any moment now he'd slip back into his pep talk, reassure him of his chances to become a hero, wipe away his insecurities with a blinding smile and a boisterous laugh- "Do you still have it? The villain's quirk?" All Might asked in a whisper. "I do." Izuku knew, without really needing to try it out. He knew it with the same certainty as he knew that he was thirsty, or that his side did in fact hurt a little bit, or that most of skin was constantly brushing against his clothes. It was an almost visceral sensation, both conscious and subconscious, that he couldn't quite put into words. "I could try to use it too, if I wanted. Although I d-don't, really. I don't think I'll want to see any more slime for the next ten years or so, especially not on myself. Or as myself..." Izuku chuckled nervously, his heart growing heavier as All Might's expression reverted to one of studied, rigid neutrality. For once in his life, words failed him completely. He wrung his hands in discomfort, hoping that All Might would be the one to break that increasingly worrying silence. But his fidgeting caught the hero's attention. Very slowly, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, All Might's hand left Izuku's shoulder and took the boy's hand in his own, turning it over. He straightened the curled fingers with his thumb, fully exposing his palm and the small, circular hole right in the center of it. And then all of Izuku's hopes crumbled to dust. Very scary, very disturbing things had happened to him that day. He had almost died, he had almost accidentally killed a friend, he had inadvertedly learned a potentially peace-endangering secret, he had been forced to reveal a personally-endangering secret. He could have lived with all of that, probably. But nothing could have prepared him for the subtle shaking of All Might's hand as he observed the stigmata of Izuku's quirk. Nothing could have humiliated more than the sharp inhale of his idol, than the way his breath caught in his throat in obvious shock. Nothing could have confirmed his father's warnings more than the one thing he would have never, never, never expected to see - let alone cause - in the eyes of the Symbol of Peace. Fear.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #Toshinori Yagi #All Might #deku #izuku midoriya

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meta-squash · 5 years ago

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This meta about Grantaire’s “belief” vs “caring” has been circling my head for a few days now.

Hugo describes Grantaire as a man who “took great care not to believe in anything.” And while I do think part of that is skepticism or cynicism, I think his monologues, admiration of Enjolras, and death all hint at something a little bit more.

He tries his hardest not to believe in anything, but I think there are two things to pull from this: that not believing isn’t the same as not caring, and that caring plus action without belief is scary.

He tries his hardest not to believe in anything. And yet, in his monologues he spends so much time lamenting the injustices of the world/history and criticizing them in fairly competent (if roundabout) ways. He says that if he had money he’d make sure there were no more poor. He offers to help Enjolras at Barriere du Maine (though it doesn’t go well). He cares. He really does care about people. That doesn’t mean he believes.

His first monologue is full of cynical, negative opinions. “I desire to forget life....You break your neck simply living.....Every good quality runs into a defect” etc etc. Obviously, he’s depressed, he’s an alcoholic, and he’s cynical. But I think it’s more than that. He tries his hardest to believe in nothing, to forget life, because caring scares him. I’ve said in multiple metas that I don’t think it’s that he doubts literally everything; he’s not a nihilist. I think he doubts the success of Les Amis’ endeavors and their chances of survival. He wants to believe in their goals and their ideals and while he believes in those concepts I don’t think he has confidence or belief in Les Amis’ actions working.

But this doubt makes caring about them, their beliefs, their goals, etc, scary. Because he cares but he doesn’t believe it will work. And I don’t think Enjolras’ belief that if they do fail they will basically light the way to another revolution is something he can get behind. Which means he doesn’t have that extra padding of hope and/or determination to see it through. He’s just stuck there, caring about his friends and about strangers, but there’s fear there.

Because his lack of faith in the success means that he doesn’t have that push to keep fighting. It means there’s fear of retribution or death or injury or capture or whatever. There’s fear that everyone is going to fail and it will all be for nothing. If he was a nihilist and literally believed in nothing, or if he tried not to care at all, it wouldn’t matter about their chances of success; he wouldn’t be (as) upset. Except that he “takes great care not to believe in anything.” He cares, but belief terrifies him because of all the things that could fail or go wrong or whatever. He cares, but it’s overwhelming to care and be scared and not have that extra boost of confidence and belief in either success or a sort of ripple effect.

And I think there’s quite a lot of anxiety in Grantaire, along with the depression and alcoholism. His whole interaction with Joly and Bossuet in the Corinthe is him drinking because he’s freaking out because he’s scared his friends are going to die. He’s anxious about all of this because he cares but he doesn’t have faith in success, which means all he can imagine is failure and what will come with that failure.

This means his instinct is to basically stick his head in the sand, to distract himself, to “forget life.” He cares so much but any time he thinks about what’s going on around him and the inevitable failure, he’s gonna freak out, so he hides from it by drinking. And by going on long rambling monologues that honestly are kind of a weird cry for help if anyone bothered to really listen (although in the Musain they’re all distracted and tuning him out and in the Corinthe they’re all drunk). So he cares about everything and everyone, and that care plus a lack of belief means a kind of anxiety and sad pessimism that makes him want to hide from life.

I think it’s yet another reason why he sticks around on the barricade instead of going home or something. These are his friends, and he cares about them. If nothing else, he cares about Enjolras. He wants to be with them, but being part of the action scares him because all he can imagine is failure. This is why his “Let me sleep here, until I die” line is interesting. He can only see their defeat, and yet his fear means he cannot bring himself to actually join in the action, despite the fact that he knows that if he sticks around, he will probably be killed.

He takes great care not to believe in anything. Not because he’s a nihilist, but because he cares, and belief combined with caring is scary, because it means a type of action and sacrifice that until the moment in OFPD, Grantaire is not willing or brave enough to give. So his caring without belief is even more terrifying, because all he can see is failure, and the idea of all this sacrifice (and the deaths of his friends) with no gain is overwhelming, and it makes him want to drink it away and hide from the overwhelming anxiety.

#grantaire #grantaire meta #les miserables #les miserables meta #les mis #les mis meta #hello if you're new here i have lots of grantaire posts he's my favorite boy

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starshipsofstarlord · 5 years ago

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To Be Human

A/N: Okay, so this is probably my best written piece yet. I’m going to try my best to keep up the quality like this, I just got so inspired by this episode, it was my first time watching it, and now I have finished Season 9. Remember, if you have any requests, feel free to send them in.

There was a reaper on the loose, going by the name of April, searching for the fallen angel Castiel. At this information, you had decided not to spend the time he had with the Winchesters, but going solo on your hunt for the wingless vessel. You had been told of this by Dean as you were on your way back from beheading a vamp, but you knew where the angel was, or at least the overall whereabouts. Unlike the brothers, you had insisted with the man without his grace that you would keep in contact with him. If he ever needed help, he could call you and you’d damn sure be on your way.

“Cas?” You shut your eyes, defeated and worried that you would not find Castiel first. If this reaper did she would do her job and he would be dead. He was your friend, and that was the last thing you wanted. If he were to ever die, he deserved to do so as a soldier of heaven, as he had committed to be once again before his grace had been stolen by Metatron. Not as a human, where his life although meaningful, served no purpose other than vengeance or an order to his killer.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were running low on your faith to find him in time, not that you had much faith in general to begin with. Opening your eyes, you turned down another dark alley, and that was when you saw a man burrowing his face in his knees. From the looks of it you guessed he was homeless, his dirty hair and the fact he was sitting outside of a closed restaurant suggested as much.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for-“ The man lifted his head, and you were met with the purity held within a pair of blue eyes and messy scruff that had once been moderately tamed. “Cas?”

Pushing up from the ground with his hand, you noticed how he shook. He was cold, it was raining which made it understandable, but you had never seen him act so human.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” It was common knowledge now that all of the angels had been kicked out of heaven, but he could have come and found you and the brothers. He didn’t need to hide from you.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Crossing your arms, you stared intensely at the angel, making him look away awkwardly. In the past he had been unbothered by it, but his body became uncomfortable naturally all by itself.

“I’m running from the angels. Metatron tricked me, he took my grace as an ingredient for a spell that discarded all of my brothers and sisters from above.” Looking around, you ensured yourself that there were no prying ears. You knew that he was on the run, and that it had to do with heaven, but not that he was a victim to thievery. Castiel continued, noticing your confusion to what that meant. “I am human now. I have no wings, no ability to heal, just a list of confusing things that your kind does.”

The rain was getting heavier. You pushed your hair from your face, looking at the man with sadness. Castiel had saved you all countless times, and when he was in dire need none of you could locate him to do the same in return.

“Let’s get somewhere dry, we can talk more.” He was quick to follow you as you stalked towards your car. As you did so, one thing that your hunter instincts didn’t catch onto was the redhead worker leaving the restaurant.

….

A motel room was not something new to Castiel, but your silence on the drive here had been. When Castiel had his wings, he often did not drive with you and the brothers in the impala, but the times that he had, you were always discussing the matter at hand.

After entering, you had told him to have a shower. When he exited from the restroom, dressed in his dirty clothes, he saw you sat on the bed, your head in your palms. He felt refreshed, but clearly you did not, predictably you were stressed, and the man could not help himself but come and sit beside you.

“What does this all mean Cas?” You mumbled, and then lifted your head, staring at Castiel, searching for any hint of an answer. He had always been so optimistic in conversation, but the reason for that being was probably because he was not human.

Cocking his head, as he had done as an angel quite often, he asked you what you had been expecting. “What does all what mean?”

“Angels are wanting to kill you Cas, and our world could be on the verge of an enormous scaled pandemic caused by them. This stuff happens all of the damned time, but there’s never a reason.”

“Don’t worry, they can’t track me.” He lifted his shirt, showing the ward he had gotten tattooed. You raised your hand, tracing the ink with your fingertips, his body lurched backwards at the contact.

“For now.” He nodded in agreement. “There’s a reaper after you, hired by an angel or something. We’ll have to keep on the move, as you have been doing.” You pulled your hand away, tugging down his shirt. “Get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

Castiel let his eyes wander around the room. “There’s only one bed.” But then his eyes fell on you, as you lifted your jumper over your head, revealing you white tank top that had became see through from the rain. He had never had such erotic thoughts about you, or anyone or anything in general. Right now however, he couldn’t look away from the visibility of your bra.

“You take it, I’m going to stay awake just in case.” He took a gentle hold of your wrist, pulling you back down onto the bed so that you were sat next to him.

“We can share.” Cas said. You squinted at him curiously and then shrugged, thinking nothing much of his suggestion. It would only be weird if the two of you made it that way. Lifting the duvet, you got under the cover, Castiel copying your actions.

“What is it like, being human I mean, after you have been an angel for such a long time?” The lamp on the bedside table was still on so that you could gauge his reaction. So far you had picked up on him being less stoic and more relatable.

“Strange to say the least. My thinking process is different, I care more about not only my life but those of others. I now can see how precious human life really is. In an instant you can be fathomed by hunger or quenched by thirst, and that feels horrible. There are so many things that are acquired to be done to stay hygienic, like brushing your teeth and showering. I’m going through so many new experiences, ones that I never thought would I apply to me, but now do. To be human is about survival, in the most absurd ways. It is like a breath of fresh air sometimes but I do miss my wings.”

Smiling, you raised your head from the pillow, sitting up and Castiel mirrored your actions. “I’ve missed you Cas, I really have.” Without him, your life felt so full of hatred. Without him, you had no kindness towards heaven or those that had fallen from there.

“As I have you.” You leant your head closer to his. Cas as a human showed affection attributes, like genuine smiles and holding admiration in his eyes. He didn’t move away from the proximity you were lessening between the two of you.

“Would you like another new experience?” He was definitely tempted, you could tell from where his gaze momentarily shifted to and how he bit his bottom lip. As an angel, he would probably have been confused by what you had meant by the question, but he no longer was an angel, so he clearly received and understood the hint.

Cas made the first move, swiftly leaning even closer and pressing his lips against your own. You were quick to melt into the embrace of the kiss, closing your eyes into the process. He wasn’t a bad kisser at all, especially considering this his lack of experience.

“From the moment that I met you, I felt that you would be important to me.” His lips were still brushing your own as he spoke, his hand sliding gently up the back of your tacky shirt. You leant back, pulling it over your head, showcasing the plain underwire bra that had been holding your chest in place throughout the day.

“I was shooting at you.” Letting out a light laugh at the memory, you bit his bottom lip which caused him to moan into your mouth, to which you swallowed that sound. “But luckily those bullets did nothing, and you stood as strong as a tree, with your wings expanding on the wall behind you.”

The mention of his wings made him duck his head in embarrassment. That was how you had known him all of these years, and he had changed, quite significantly. He had watched you age and become more mature with your hunting skills throughout, but during that time he had always remained the same. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay (Y/N).” He assured you, bringing his hands up to trace your ribs. “If I hadn’t lost them, nor my grace, we wouldn’t be here, about to perform sexual intercourse.” He began to unbutton his shirt from the top as you helped him from the bottom of the material.

“Please don’t describe it like that.” His naivety had always humoured you, yet it still brought the same comfort. It confirmed that you were not sleeping with a stranger, but the angel you had always known, even if his back was bare of feathers.

Shrugging out of the unbuttoned button down, your fingers returned to the ward. As you touched it, his fingers remained on your ribs, tracing over the pentagram that had been inked in that spot. And as he made that contact, his lips returned to your own, one of his hands moving down and rubbing your hips through your jeans. Your own ran to his hair, tugging lightly at the strands.

“I take it that you have done this before?” Castiel asked, throwing his head back as you sat upon his lap that was raising from his increase in arousal.

“Yes.” Reaching behind your back, you unclipped your bra, exposing you breasts to your friend. “Don’t worry about it, you’re the first one that actually matters.”

You rubbed your nose against his, letting your breaths collide as you began to grind down on him. Taking one of his hands into your own, you cupped it around your breast, letting him feel you and the flush that was residing under your skin.

“Can we take our pants off?” In reply, you kissed him again. You worried that you would become addicted to the contact, this contact. He was such a gentleman even in this moment, and it made you feel special, appreciated.

“Of course, Clarence.” You laughed at the name, something you had called him a couple of times after interactions with Meg. As you got off of his lap, you nipped his lip, causing a groan to rumble from him.

Once both of your pants were off, and the two of you were left in your underwear, Castiel rolled you over so that he was on top, looming down at you with a lustful darkness gleaming in his irises. With your feet, you began pushing his boxers down, and when they had gotten as far down as you could get them, Castiel removed them the rest of the way.

“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” He asked sweetly, making you look up at him unbelievably. You took your own underwear off, tossing them past his shoulder and somewhere on the motel room floor.

“That was supposed to be my line.” You corrected him, smirking at the redness that was building upon his cheeks. “To answer your question though, I know I do.”

With that, Castiel began pushing into you, causing the pair of you to moan and throw your heads back in pleasure. He had never felt anything so good, and the feeling only got better as he moved within you. Now he understood why Dean would bed many women and why he had encouraged the angel to do the same when it was supposed to be their last day on earth.

If it felt this good for him, he could only imagine how it felt for you. Sweat was building on your forehead, more collecting there with every move he made. The marks you were clawing into his shoulders only made this experience that much more surreal for him.

“Don’t stop.” You whined, biting the inside of your cheek. The angel would be damned if he had any intention of doing so. But as your walls clenched around him, he felt something greater. There was a pressure in the bottom of his stomach that was increasing with every stroke he practised inside of you.

So, he didn’t stop. He kept going until he felt a wet consistency escape you and pool over him, and he repeated such an action upon you. And that was when he realised, that he had just orgasmed. Regretfully, he pulled out of your warmth, flopping on the bed beside you, gasping for air.

“Holy shit Cas.” Your face was flushed, and there was a wetness to your eyes. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” Similar to him, you were breathing heavily, clearly exhausted from your activities.

“I think I would have remembered if I had.” He turned to you rather than the ceiling, brushing your hair back with his large hand. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again though.”

//////////

It really was a pity to be wakening Castiel, he looked so peaceful when he was asleep, but the two of you had to keep moving. If this reaper found you, you dreaded what would happen to the man. He had many targets on his head, and you were trying to stop him from being shot.

He groaned as you shook his shoulder, wanting to stay asleep. That was a human quality you could relate to, but not one you were privileged of having as a hunter.

“Castiel, we have to go.” Reluctantly, he got up and dressed himself as you previously had. He went into the bathroom, leaving you to ponder in your thoughts as you looked at the bed the two of you had more than shared. What did this mean for the two of you? Was it just a one night deal? Being a hunter made you no stranger to such ordeals. It was a price amongst many that had to be paid for living such dangerous lifestyles.

There was always something supernatural lurking, and it was your sworn duty to execute any threats. You quickly grabbed your angel blade as the front door began to open, revealing a woman with red hair. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. It was the reaper, and she found Cas to your dismay.

“Is it too early for room service?” She asked you, walking past the threshold of the room. Instinctively, you stood in an offensive position, your weapon gripped in your dominant hand.

“I don’t mind taking the trash out.” You replied, looking her dead in the eyes. You allowed her to come closer, thrashing your arm out in attempts to stab her. But creatures of death were stronger than humans, and so she grabbed your arm, holding it securely as she bashed your head a couple of times into the bedframe. And just like that, you were out like a light.

When light returned to your vision, you saw Cas tied to a chair, blood drawn on his exposed chest in lines through his flesh. The reaper was torturing him, and you shifted in attempts to stop her infliction, but similar to Cas, you were bound to a chair. There was no longer hope praying to the man across from you, he could not be a saviour to either one of you, instead you trusted the Winchesters would get here in time. If they didn’t, you weren’t keen on how far she would take this torture.

“Let him go.” Growling at her drew her attention, and April began towards you, though not fully leaving Castiel. His pain was etched in her mind and dripping down the angel blade she held, he was her mission, and she would not be one to give it up so easily. In return to your demand, the reaper laughed at you. The predicament was not ideal, you were giving her orders whilst you were her captive.

“Is that so you can fuck him again, hunter?” Her question made you sick. There was a chance she had been watching the whole exchange, it was an intimate moment, and it was supposed to have been a private one as well. Your stomach churned at the thought, dulling you into silence. This was one of many reasons why you resented and ended the lives of monsters, their manners were crippled along with their natures.

The carpet appeared more interesting than her face. It held the mud that you had dragged in with your boots, making the soft texture rough. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t look at the monster as she returned to Cas, hearing his protests and noises of pain. You came here to save him, and that was the one thing you were failing at.

“How about I talk to your friend here, then perhaps you will give me the answers to my questions.” April turned to you once more, her presence pulling your eyes up from the floor. In response to her attention, you spat rudely at the reaper, earning yourself a slap against the side of your face. Her palm burned as though she had heated it from the depths of hell itself, your head whipping in the same direction it had swept.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” She saw your remark as a challenge, and so she grasped the sleek silver blade and ploughed it through your chest, which caused Cas to scream out at the sight and prickling of agony. Everything blurred as the sharp edge tapped your heart, sending you to a darker place than earth.

///////////

New life, it was a great gasp of air, or series of them. Your hand reached up, feeling the closed flesh upon your chest. The wound was gone, and so was the reaper, her vessel laid motionless on the floor, as did Sam, until he suddenly lurched up, appearing exhausted.

And then you saw him, alive. Castiel. You looked down to see your binds untied and on the motel floor, and you were quick to stand and go to him despite your light headedness. His eyes were shocked to see you fine, he was certain he had witnessed your death.

Death, there were so many annotations. You had been to purgatory, and Sam had assumed death had wreaked a toll on you, his brother and the angel. But here you all were, breathing human intakes of air, surviving the backlash of heaven.

“You were wrong Cas.” You began. “To be human is to be on the verge of death, overlooking it from a cliff that will one day erode. If I were you, I’d search for any variable that could restore your grace. At least then you wouldn’t succumb to such vulnerability and exposure. You would be free of this pain, and any desire you have, you’d have the strength not to give into it.”

As the brothers stared at you, confused by your outburst, you fled the room, going to your ‘borrowed’ car only to find that presumably the reaper had deflated them with the blade. That meant that you would have to ride with Sam and Dean, keeping what had happened to yourself in the same pattern as they were. They always had secrets, and you could sense something was not right in this scenario. You were beyond sure you were on the lift down to hell, and for once it was not Cas raising you from below. It was something else playing with the routine of the afterlife, and you were determined to find the conclusion as to what it was.

Opening the back door of the impala, you sat, looking out of the window as the three men exited the rented room. Last night Castiel saw you at your peak, at your most vulnerable. It couldn’t happen again, you wouldn’t allow it. You had tried keeping a straight line of professionalism the entire time you had been exorcising demons and beheading vamps, it was against your code to allow an angel to get that close. He was your friend, yes, but you couldn’t allow him to be anything further than that, no matter how your pulse flickered in his presence.

#castiel x reader #casxreader #castielxreader #castiel imagine #cas imagines #spnxreader #spn x reader #spn one shot #castiel novak x reader #angel x reader #misha collins x reader #misha x reader #mishaimagine #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural one shot #spncastiel #castiel

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nexyra · 4 years ago

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I got an ask for Qrow Branwen so here it comes !

My fav ship(s) for the character

I think my favorite ships for Qrow are Cloqwork and Fair Game ! Cloqwork lacked screentime in terms of canon content of course, but I love the potential here. I also have a things for shipping the sad men together xD There are a lot of REALLY great Cloqwork fanfics out there and I love seeing people write about these two <3 It's in the details but I think there's something interesting here. With Qrow who is convinced to be a curse, who came from such a harsh background... And with Ozpin who is so convinced of humanity's inherent goodness and that anyone deserves a chance. At the same time they're both very complicated people who I think would interact in cool ways. Ozpin is wise but does have a mischievous streak that I think also helped in making them both get along. Qrow is much more perceptive than he appears and that's also good for dealing with someone as secretive as Ozpin.

Fair Game also had a very good start ! The relationship was admittedly a bit tilted toward Qrow's recovery in the show, but they were nice to see together. Clover was perceptive & caring as well as patient. All great qualities for a relationship with Qrow, who has a hard time breaking down his walls and a shot mental health. At the same time, Atlas is very professional, straight-to-the-point and I think Qrow is a real breath of fresh hair in that environment. He brings a different viewpoint to the table, he's very loyal & caring and it's clear that his sass amused Clover greatly. We didn't get to learn enough about him, but Clover's VA hinted that Clover's trust was a fragile thing and he wasn't a fan of showing vulnerability. Qrow, who gives everything he has in all his relationships, would have been a great balm for that uncertainty. So yeah !

My least favorite ship(s) for the character

There are, of course, any & all ships between Qrow & the kids or Qrow & Salem's team. But outside of these obvious "nope", I'll have to go with Jailbirds. This is COMPLETELY personal but I have a really hard time liking Robyn's character as of V7 end/V8 so I'm barely interested in her dynamic with Qrow. I did appreciate her talking down Qrow from revenge because he was only doing it for his own sake but... That's about it. I find her way too abrasive (hidden behind her shiny Robinhood looks). And whereas Clover (imo) was pretty good at getting Qrow to face his issus head-on & building him up, I feel like Robyn relies more on humour & deflection... Which is an art Qrow is already acquainted with, and not the best coping mechanism for him. Aaaand I just feel like she put Clover down several time in order to lift Qrow up. That, plus the queerbaiting controversy, plus her having indirectly participated to Clover's death... The ship makes me a bit uncomfortable.

My fav & least fav platonic relationship(s) for the character

My fav platonic relationship for Qrow is his bond with Ruby ! I really hope they bring it back because these two were GREAT together. Ruby's admiration was adorable. Qrow's nonchalent but clearly protective streak. They care about each other A LOT and I really loved them together. I hope they can have more moments together like back in V3-V4 or V6.

I'm not sure what my least liked platonic relationship would be. Saying Robyn again feels like beating on a dead horse but I don't really have a problem with any other ones. They're all, if not kind & good for him, at least interesting (like Raven)

My favorite thing about the character

The combination of his sassy/cynic personnality and how loyal & caring of a person he actually he is. Qrow is rough around the edges, leans easily into banter but he cares so damn much. He fit so easily next to Ruby's peppy enthusiasm in Vol 1-3, and then he was just an incredible badass and yet so damn vulnerable human in Vol 4-6. I liked that about him. How all the pieces fit together

My biggest criticism for the character

Well I have 2 things to say about that. First : V7C12 With Friends like these. What the fuck was this episode qkfazkfhkgh Qrow's brain was nerfed SO DAMN HARD, I was genuinely pissed while watching the episode. This was just a string of dumb decisions from everyone except Tyrian. But I digress -

In a more general sense, I'd say... putting Qrow in the sidelines. Him falling further into depression was a sound decision. It was interesting and fitting of his character imo. But I feel like they tied "Ruby having enough of his alcooholism" and "Ruby growing away from adults" in a way that kind of.... just put Qrow to the side and doesn't allow him to do much. In V6 finale, Qrow expresses understandable concerns about their plan to steal an airship, but instead of dealing with that Ruby's frustration with his cynicism is aired out and... the timing kind of makes the whole thing weird becaus Qrow isn't allowed to disagree with their plan ("we'll do it with you or without you") and then has to trust Ruby and let her go which AGAIN is a great moment in itself. But all that put together just like... rid Qrow of his function as a parental figure because Ruby is the leader now and he's just... kind of following along.

When was their writing at the peak according to me (ex : best season)

Okay for this one Q, I'll have to go with Vol 4 and Vol 6 for very different reasons. V4 was great because we really got to get to know Qrow. His complicated relationship with Raven. How BADASS his encounter with Tyrian was I freaking loved it. What his semblance and how it shaped his life. And it also let him be vulnerable through the poison & seeing Ruby repay his care was very nice.

Vol 6 for fleshing out, taking his issues & drinking more seriously. Showing more hopelesness and cynicism, and that he had a real drinking problem and he wasn't just a fun drunk. Plus the loss of faith in Oz showed how much Qrow needs stability and secure certainties to orbit around despite his nonchalant personnality. But I like it a bit less because it was the starting point of putting him on the side kind of.

A song I think fits them & why

Ship in a Bottle (Steffan Argus) ➸ A song about being alone in your fight, in the sense that your life is like a sail on the ocean and you are the only captain, the only one who can choose what to do with it. At the same time, there are several mentions of a "captain" as if the singer/Qrow adresses someone else. It's reminiscent of his relation with Ozpin or Clover : speaking of a deal, of being honest and sharing what's on your mind. Qrow thinks too much, he's scared and he sinks more & more as he delves into his cynicism (V6). Qrow cries, things get worse, the mention of the glass echoes his struggle with alcooholism. And the Scarewrow loses his brain, "lose touch with all the things that made [him] feel sane."

+ Problem child (Simple Plan) The Star song (Amanda Palmer) Would anyone care (Citizen Soldier) Wasted (8 Graves)

A headcanon to make up about them

Qrow didn't have the most normal childhood and because of that he had to learn a lot for Ruby & Yang. Notably, Qrow had absolutely 0 notion of what was an appropriate presents for young girls. As a result, he tended to simply bring back from his travels whatever shiny thing might have caught his attention. Could be a weird flower. Could be a pretty knife. Or even junk that his corvid brain latched upon.

Tai designed a look(Tm) that Qrow learned to recognize as "No, not appropriate." After a while, Yang learned to mimick it (but rather at random, she didn't really recognze what was appropriate and what wasn't). Ruby always liked his presents though.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

I CLEARLY would rewrite V7C12 so that Qrow & Clover keep their brains kzjhfkqhzk There were ways to reach the same conclusion without like... having a Qrow-Tyran team-up which was REALLY weird

I see 2 main possibilities to stick close to canon content - After the crash, Tyrian gets free but he keeps playing dead for a bit. Since there is no 3rd menace, Clover and Qrow's argument devolve into a fight as seen in canon. At one point, Clover manages to briefly disarm Qrow. They discuss for a bit, you can even put the exact same dialog as in the ep. Then Tyrian takes action, moving out of the shadows to kill Clover with Qrow's discarded weapon. Braincells saved. OR - Instead of having Qrow & Tyrian outright team up, Tyrian just... keeps instillating doubts in their mind. Qrow & Clover are temporarily allies in taking Tyrian down but because of this, they don't TRUST each other which cause missteps and make them less effective. At one point, Qrow tries to attack Tyrian who is behind Clover. But because neither Qrow nor Clover really have faith in the other at that moment (and because Tyrian is poisonning their mind), Clover automatically steps back or aside. He doesn't entirely trust Qrow. Because of this small hesitation, Qrow's attack fails. Tyrian manages to disarm him. Tyrian uses Qrow's weapon to kill Clover. There could even be some message here about the lack of Trust & letting Salem divide friends... something of that caliber in any case 🤔 It can even parallel V3 where Qrow did the same thing with Ironwood & Ironwood refused to stand aside even if he thought Qrow meant to attack him... Could lead somewhere ! Like, in V3 Qrow had faith that Ironwood wasn't to blame. Only Ironwood feared that Qrow blamed him, but Qrow knew & trusted that Ironwood wasn't to blame. In other words, Salem didn't divide them. Here, Qrow & Clover let Tyrian get into their head. And as a result Clover dies. "Together we stand, Divided we fall"

My guess for their MBTI/Enneagram

I'm still mulling on it right now but I think he might be some kind of ISTP 416. He has some weird 7ish behaviour but his need to orbit around someone/a goal, his relationship with Oz, how close he stuck to Tai & Summer sounds closer to 6 fix. He wants people to go home to. Certainty and security. His independance definitely is there but seems emphasized moreso out of necessity.

One aspect that I think would be nice to delve deeper into ? (optional)

I'm not sure mhmmm maybe his relationship with Summer ? It would be both cute & interesting. As well as finally giving us insight into who Summer was

#rwby #qrow branwen #rwde #rwby thoughts #send asks #cloqwork #fair game #v7ch12 #with friends like these #v7 spoilers #character song #enneagram #mbti #rwby rewrite

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puddygeeks · 4 years ago

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Dusk Till Dawn - Dragon Age Inquisition - Cullen/Inquisitor

Masterlist

Rating: Suitable for all

A/N: This is actually my first ever piece of writing from the perspective of an existing character, especially a male so cut me some slack whilst I experiment with this new venture. I also do not tend to write in the 3rd person, so this piece has been a learning curve for me. However, I felt hugely inspired to write a fluffy piece about my fluffy boy, so enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to see more DA based content from me in future.

Summary: Commander Cullen struggles to maintain a professional, working relationship with the Inquisition’s fearless leader. As the realisation dawns on him that his thoughts linger on her, he begins to question whether the feeling is mutual.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Lavellan

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Perhaps some mild spoilers?

Standing across the war table, hand placed comfortably on the hilt of his sword, Commander Cullen focused on remaining professional.

Their fearless leader assigned missions and plotted political manoeuvres that would shape the very fabric of all the Kingdoms in Thedas. Despite being plucked from relative obscurity, she rose to this responsibility as if made for it and led the rapidly growing Inquisition with grace and wisdom.

Without warning, her large, almond shaped eyes met his and he felt his very spirit stir at the subtle connection between them. Buried in the deep hue of her eyes, he could always sense some hidden power that was disguised by her petite frame and seemingly harmless appearance.

He felt himself fidget on the spot, an involuntary movement that had escaped his carefully controlled facade and he noticed a slight smile lurking in the corners of her mouth.

There was a hint of playfulness in the way that she viewed him, he thought, before she swept from the chamber, leaving it notably colder by her absence. Surely he must have been mistaken. She was an icon, a force of nature in the crumbling world and would never view him as anything more than her lieutenant.

“My, my. Are you blushing, Commander?”

Leliana’s sickly sweet voice drifted from his side, tainting the drafty space with her sly implications.

It was not the first time that suggestions of this nature had been made about him, but each time caused him to bristle with embarrassment in a manner that was entirely more revealing than intended. He made a sound that almost resembled a scoff at the absurdity of her statement, but it strangely combined with an awkward splutter that filled the bard’s usually pale face with a smug satisfaction.

“I do believe you may be correct, Leliana. Our dearest Commander certainly does seem rather flustered. Why, I could not possibly suggest a cause for such a reaction.” Josephine taunted, her words coated in a barely concealed enthusiasm as she studied him over the top of her papers.

Cullen cleared his throat in a joyless bid to regain some composure, as his colleagues gazed past him at each other with mischief gleaming in their eyes.

“Surely you both have other matters to attend to? Nobles to pamper, or spies to train?” He countered, a poignant lack of authority in his voice, as the women crossed their arms and met his suggestions with a blatant disdain.

The Inquisitor inspired courage and determination in the recruits, each viewing her as a symbol of hope and light in the darkness. For Cullen, however, she was a constant distraction and a trigger for his most regretful, tense behaviours.

As time passed, he found that he was able to recognise traits within her that others were blind to. He was stunned by the depth of her kindness towards him. Regardless of the shame that he felt when presenting his issues with addiction for her judgement, he was always met with understanding and compassion. These were new experiences for Cullen and the emotions that they provoked in him were completely unexplored territory.

On the battlements of Skyhold, he embarked on his regular stroll to examine and assess their sustainability, when an unfamiliar sight caused him to pause in his tracks. Standing by the edge, staring out into the mountains with an intense expression was the Inquisitor, clearly deeply lost in thought.

She didn’t seem to notice Cullen’s arrival, as her gloved hands gripped onto the stone wall and he recognised that the usual strength that radiated from her was absent. In what she believed to be a solitary moment, her defences were lowered and she had allowed herself an opportunity to be vulnerable.

Cullen felt awkward witnessing this, feeling the familiar sensation of invading upon a sacred space as he’d often experienced throughout his youth in the Chantry.

“Are you going to stand and stare all day, or would you prefer to join me, Commander?”

His stomach churned as her words cut through the tense silence and she turned to glance at him over her shoulder with a gentle smile. He blanched at her casual offer, feeling pressure compressing his chest and she returned to her pondering, blissfully unaware of the nerves that her presence summoned in him.

“I apologise, my lady. It was not my intention to intrude, nor to stare.” He managed to force the words out through the block in his throat, but as they left his mouth, he acknowledged the deeply ingrained formality in the way that he addressed her. She smiled fondly at nothing in particular.

There was a stifling atmosphere as he realised that there was not another soul in sight and inwardly, he scolded himself for not recognising the absence of guards earlier. He knew that they had likely already shifted their positions out of respect, to allow her a moment of peace and he felt embarrassed at his perceived social blunder.

“You’re not intruding. You don’t need to tiptoe around me, you know. I don’t bite.” She commented idly and Cullen tightened his grip on his sword in stress.

The instances of flirtatious remarks were mounting, an overpowering suggestion in his already cluttered mind and each new addition increased his difficulty in denying their presence. They were an ever present force, haunting him at all hours of the day with their desire to be acknowledged. He pushed it away, desperately pleading with his heart to allow him to remain focused and appropriate. The Inquisitor regarded him with an amused disbelief, as he remained at his cautious distance.

“Do you ever simply stop patrolling, or working, and allow yourself a few moments of peace? Our surroundings are idyllic. It’s wasteful not to appreciate them.” She urged, gesturing for him to join her and, unable to deny her request for a second time, he reluctantly marched over to her side with his legs feeling as heavy as led.

The view from the battlements was breath-taking, but it was difficult to fully realise it’s wonder beside the simple splendour of her beauty. She sighed wistfully, the pleasant sound causing a flutter in his stomach and he relished the circumstances that allowed him to witness her in a more relaxed state than he’d ever been entrusted with in the past.

Surrounded by snowy mountains and without the usual bustle of demands pressing against them, the silence was no longer tense and Cullen allowed his shoulders to gradually lower into a comfortable slouch.

“We filled this empty shell with purpose and belief.” She began, breaking the silence in a sour manner.

“The halls are bustling with people determined to bring change to our world and the courtyard has become a home to the faithful. Undeterred by all theories to the contrary, we’ve proven it possible to unite mages and templars against a common enemy, under a single, inclusive banner that fights for the freedom of all.” She detailed, as she listed achievements that should have filled her voice with pride, but instead the words rang hollow and her tone remained lacklustre.

Cullen was unnerved by her raw, unenthusiastic demeanour that existed in stark contrast to the invigorating personality that she displayed in the company of her comrades.

“And yet, at the head of this mighty cause is a single elf. Inquisitor Lavellan. Despite all of the titles, followers and respect, I am still merely a Dalish with a strange light imbued in my palm. My value is awarded as a result of missing memories that humans have interpreted as a symbol of divine intervention. Tell me, Commander Cullen, what certainty can you possess that I am worthy of such duty?” Lavellan turned to face him, her eyes alight with a storm of emotions that blazed from the inside and he was lost under the intensity of her doubt.

Words failed him as he floundered in search of an answer that could provide her with the peace that she so desperately desired.

In his heart, he knew that his belief in her was greater than any other within this fortress, or indeed all Thedas itself. He knew that if he allowed himself to be honest, he could list all of the admirable qualities that he had long admired about the awe-worthy being before him.

Regretfully, his terror of unveiling the depth of his devotion prevented him from granting her with honesty. Instead, he beheld her with a barely concealed state of adoration and she sighed in disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I’ve posed a question that you couldn’t possibly answer. I suppose I should know better than to burden others with my own insecurities.” She excused, turning her face from him with an unsatisfied void in her eyes that would remain with him for as long as he lived.

The cool, crisp air tore through the gaps in their defences, carrying the loose sections of her silver hair out behind her like wings and only exaggerated her appearance to him as some kind of ethereal being.

As his gaze explored her features, he noticed that her nose and cheeks glowed in a delicate shade of pink that spread to the tips of her gracefully pointed ears and he wondered how long she had been standing here, allowing her exposed skin to grow cold. He ached to lighten her burden, to remove the knot that formed between her brows as she battled the responsibilities that threatened to crush her beneath their weight and against his better judgement, his answer began to flow freely from his lips.

“In all of my years as a templar, I have followed leaders of many different titles. Each of them possessed their own approach, their own qualities that influenced their choices and shaped their time in power.” He recounted, uncertain of the confessions that might escape his lips as he spoke without restraint.

“Never have I known any other to rise from the ashes as you have, nor for the people to elect them with such fervent belief. They follow you with unshakable faith, as do I, not because of your origins, your race or your rumoured holiness. They follow because of your decisions, because you lead with a grace and wisdom that comes from deep within and is unique to your formidable soul.”

“You are the Inquisitor not because of the anchor that you wield, but because there is no other who could fulfil this duty as you have. You are indisputably, unfathomably, exceptionally more than ‘merely a Dalish’, Lady Lavellen.” He spoke with conviction and with every shred of reasoning, he observed her becoming increasingly humbled by his confession.

Of course, Cullen knew her name, but he wouldn’t dare to address her by it, believing that it disrespected her journey and consequent struggles to earn the title which she now held. Her eyes grew wide and it was clear that she was shocked by the passion of his words, whilst he waited in a terror ridden state, fearing that he had absolutely revealed too much.

“It is incomprehensible to me that you are capable of such earnest insight into others, whilst believing yourself to be scarcely more than a failed ex-templar.” She surveyed him with a sympathetic, yet frustrated expression and as often would occur in her company, Cullen found himself lost for words.

When under her gaze, he felt unworthy of the praise that she often bestowed upon him and could not fathom her unwavering faith in him. Even when he had suggested that Cassandra replace him, Lavellan refused to allow him to relinquish his position and insisted that he could defeat his demons to abstain from the use of lyrium once and for all. There was no doubt in his mind that she made him a better person, but in spite of all his improvement, he still could not even begin to imagine himself as deserving of her fondness.

Lavellan turned from the wall to face him fully, closing the distance between them until she was nearer than he’d ever had cause to be. In such proximity, he could smell the natural scent of flowers and herbs on her skin, admired the sun that glinted in her eyes and his face flushed with a heat that exposed his exhilaration.

For longer than he could ever truly admit, he had laid awake at night, imagining what a privilege it would be to touch her, but he would never be so bold as to attempt such a sin. Involuntarily, he gulped as she pouted her plump lips thoughtfully and his heart pounded with such intensity that he felt concerned that it could cease to function at any given moment.

She leaned forward at a painfully gradual pace and had to shift her balance onto her toes in order to reach him. With ice tinted lips, she placed a single delicate kiss on his cheek, contrasting sharply with the burning of his skin.

Instead of immediately moving away she lingered there, her breath tickling his neck as her mouth brushed his ear.

“Your faith extinguishes my fear, unlike any other.” She whispered, her words burning into Cullen’s mind like a brand from an iron that could never be compromised.

All of his senses seemed to be intensified, as he committed every minute detail to memory for fear that this experience may not occur more than once. When she leaned back into his field of vision, her features glowed with fondness and he simply gawped at her in amazement.

“You put my heart at ease, Cullen. Thank you.” She admitted with a relaxed sigh and without a further word, or any indication that she would explain the meaning behind this statement, she parted from him.

As Lavellan’s delicate steps echoed down the stone staircase, Cullen remained rooted to the spot, obsessively analysing the conversation and wondering if he’d perhaps misunderstood. Perhaps the mountain of comments in his mind that he’d long considered to be indulgent, self-delusion had accumulated into something more significant than he’d ever dared to imagine.

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