#father spiros

[greek-orthodox-priest]

well. look who finally came out of his bedroom!

[heliza24]

Thoughts about Domesticity, Carework, and the American Dream in episode 2.5 of Interview with the Vampire

I’ve been mulling over episode 2.5 a lot. There was so much to love in the episode (the incredible writing, the kitchen sink off Broadway play of it all, the chemistry between Luke, Jacob and Assad, the vulnerability in Eric’s performance). But my mind keeps circling a couple of themes, trying to piece them together. So as usual I’m here on tumblr to try to work it out. 

I keep coming back to the way that Armand was gendered in this episode. His big complaint to Louis was that he was “home picking lint off the sofa”. He arrives with “mop and misery” to clean up the mess. Louis insults him by calling him “the good nurse”. All those things are feminized. They’re also extremely of the era; these are Feminine Mystique, mid-century housewife type complaints. The wife’s job is to make the husband’s life smooth and never worry about her own happiness. Obviously in the 1970s we’re seeing this begin to change thanks to second wave feminism. We’re in the process of trying to ratify the ERA, Ms. magazine has just been founded, and things are shifting. The kind of cheery domestic American dream of the 1950s is definitely shifting, and we see this in the episode as well. Betty Hutton selling sewing machines competes with Spiro Agnew resigning on TV. The watergate scandal signified a loss of faith in American authority, a kind of parallel destruction of the country’s father figure (brought down by journalists, no less). The comfortable lie of domesticity, the “prison of empathy” that Armand has created around Louis is crumbling. Armand is boring but he’s also bored, like a housewife taking valium to get by. The whole episode is set in an apartment that reeks of divorce, according to Daniel, and we’re seeing it play out in real time. When Armand lashes out to hurt Louis, he does it not through direct violence, like Lestat, but by holding his failure as a father over him, telling him that Claudia  never loved him. That jab, in combination with the way he’s edited Louis’s memories (gaslighting, another time honored form of domestic abuse) is enough to get Louis to hurt himself. LIke a wife who is always outwardly obedient to her husband but spends her time exacting petty revenge against him for the way he takes her for granted, Armand’s methods are never violent. They are soft and subtle and targeted.

I have to thank @bluedalahorse for first alerting me to the way the crumbling domestic American dream is threaded through this episode. And after she mentioned it I saw it *everywhere*. 

Obviously there is a level of complexity here in the Loumand relationship that this metaphor cannot fully capture. For one thing, Armand is a man. He was turned in a time before modern understanding of gender and sexuality really solidified, so in some way it makes sense that he would be the most gender fluid of our main characters, but his position would be a lot different if he were a woman, even a woman vampire. And Armand is very powerful. His insecurities and crippling fear of being alone keep him from exercising this power and walking away in a way that would perhaps be healthier for both him and Louis. But he is not trapped economically or socially in the way a wife would have been in this era. (That being said, I get the sense that *something* about the way the fire happened in Paris has made Louis and Armand go to ground. Maybe there is an element of being “trapped together because of fear of exposure”. But even then, I think my point still stands.)

To drill down and become more specific, there’s an extra added layer to the way Armand is feminized in this episode. I’ve written a lot about disability in this show and also the way it approaches eugenics, and those things were very on my mind as I rewatched this episode. (To be fair, they are always on my mind when I watch anything. Being disabled will do that to you.) Anyway, the specific way that Armand casts himself in this episode is as a caregiver. He is a beleaguered, bitter caregiver to those weaker to him. I think you hear this especially when he describes to Louis what happened: “you said the worst things you ever said to me, and then you walked into the sun. And now you are a convalescent.” The absolute sneer on the word convalescent.  The absolute disdain for being put in this position again. The way he denies Louis the blood and keeps him out of his coffin for so long. The “final act of service” in calling Lestat. And then the tenderness laced with fear. Will he “be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?”. 

Armand is fascinating to me because of the way he seems to instinctively reject people who remind him of his own past weaknesses. Those weaknesses are buried down deep in his characterization, but they’re there and they’re important. He was sick and wasting away when he was turned. And before that he was an abused sex worker. You can see the way he dismisses people in similar situations in the way he treats Daniel in this episode. He calls Daniel a “broken boy” when he’s talking to Louis. He casually rejects the idea that there might be any sort of truth captured in Daniel’s tapes. The interviews on those tapes are with a sex worker and gay veteran and his disabled refugee husband. All of these people are so close to Armand in so many ways. I even think this is why Armand comes down so hard on Claudia, and why he cannot abide the true empathy and love Louis has for her. Claudia was turned when her body was weak. Weaker and more disabled, so to speak, than Armand. But they are not dissimilar. But Louis loves Claudia anyway, and respects her strengths. No one ever shown the love Louis shows to Claudia to Armand. No one ever granted him true empathy. The only way he has been able to hold on to any love at all is to grovel, to manage, to care give. The only way he experiences care is to give it. Of course he’s broken, of course he’s bitter.

So now we come to Daniel. The broken boy who has suicidal ideation and a drug problem, things that make him imminently dismissable in Armand’s mind. But Daniel also has a drive, a passion for life, and a love for the people who slip through the cracks. Louis and Daniel definitely share this great affection for humanity, and it’s what allows them to connect in San Francisco and again in Dubai. And it’s what makes him inscrutable, and captivating, to Armand. Because there really is no greater act of service than telling somebody’s story. Daniel describes himself as a therapist ironically in Dubai, but what he’s doing is carework. It’s real empathy. And Armand doesn’t understand that. Armand doesn’t understand what someone is doing recording the stories of people who were just like him. A whole universe of possibilities opens in the moment when Armand almost starts telling Daniel his story. Out of all the ways Daniel tries to save himself, that little life line of empathy is what almost snags Armand. But then Armand clamps back down, realizes he’s staring into a “black hole”. He’s trying to insult Daniel when he says that, but to me it just sounds like he’s describing himself.

When Armand is lulling Daniel into death, the thing he chooses to describe to him is the American domestic fantasy. He describes it as a fate worse than death. He describes it as a boring trap. And he specifically casts Daniel in the masculine, straight role in that fantasy, with a wife “vacuuming on valium” who “counts down his thrusts”. In some ways Armand is painting his own relationship to Louis as the worst possible fate that Daniel could suffer. (And it makes me wonder– did Armand ever wonder if he would amount to anything? Does he think his life has any meaning at all, if you subtract the vampiric powers? Armand has never stopped to introspect like this, but I wonder what would happen if you forced him to.)

But Daniel is stubborn, and his desire to tell stories and empathize with people resists death. I love that he still defends himself, still claims that he’s “a bright young reporter with a point of view” and that that is worth something. Because it is.

When Louis asks Armand to save Daniel, Daniel unwittingly becomes a symbol of Louis and Armand’s continued marriage. He’s a wedding ring, a vows renewal. He’s emblematic of the continuation of failing vampiric domesticity. And when Louis tries to repair the damage Armand has wrought, he isn’t able to offer Daniel soothing words about his ability to find a spouse or raise children or understand love. Louis doesn’t understand those things, so how could he teach Daniel about them? But Louis has always understood stories and humanity, so he is able to gift Daniel his writing and his reporting back. 

I think you can interpret Daniel’s failed marriages and difficult relationship with his children in a lot of ways. We could say that he was always going to fail at these things, regardless of whether or not he met the vampires, because of the discontent that Armand sensed in him. Maybe the trauma that this aborted gay hookup with Louis created was enough to re-closet him, and send him down a dark road of unfulfilled straight relationships. Or maybe Armand’s words really did echo around in his head and pull him down as much as Louis’s lingered and sustained him over the years. Maybe we’ll get more answers about this as the show goes on, or maybe it will live in the ambiguous world of memory and manipulation the show so often plays in.

Regardless, I think this episode was a masterpiece, and the way it firmly established these themes about the failure of domesticity and the burden and joys of carework are going to really matter, I think, as we hit the brutal conclusion of the season. When emotions are at a breaking point, especially between Armand and Louis, they are going to resonate because they were grounded in this little claustrophobic wonder of an episode.

As a little postscript, I’m not quite sure where we’re going with Devil’s Minion after this episode, or if we’re even going there at all. If a DM timeline happened in the past, it would require additional editing of Daniel’s memory, and I’m not quite sure if that reveal would work structurally. (I would love to be proven wrong about this though, because I would love for young Daniel and Armand to have interacted more, for Assad and Luke’s chemistry if nothing else. They were so wonderful together.)  If it were to happen in Dubai, or to happen again Dubai, however… well that’s interesting. Because older Daniel is disabled. He’s even more firmly in this category of people that Armand is apt to dismiss. And if they were to get together, there would probably be some aspect of caregiving on Armand’s part. And there would also be some caregiving on Daniel’s part, in his ability to listen to Armand. So that has the potential to be really fascinating, and maybe mutually beneficial to both characters. But I think we have to cover a lot of ground before we would be able to get there.

[hiccup-queen]

I'm listening to the Artemis fowl audiobooks (shut up, I know they're for kids, but they're genuinely good books even as an adult) and as I was struck by an absolute GALAXY of an idea

So in "The Opal Incident" Artemis is revealed to enjoy art. He's always been interested in realism, "but lately he's found himself drawn to more fantastic works". The basic premise is that there's a Lost Painting that he wants to steal.

How many times has the Leverage crew used a Lost Macguffin to reel in a mark?

Anyway. I need the Leverage team targeting Fowl. I don't care which book. Imagine the COMEDY of Spencer fighting Butler only for the troll of the first book to come out of fucking nowhere. Arctic Incident where the Leverage team keeps trying to reel him in, but he's so focused on his father (and the B'wa Kell takeover of Haven, but they don't know that) that he doesn't even notice. The Leverage team focusing on Spiro in Eternity Code, only for them to see a teenager being held hostage and IMMEDIATELY change priorities. (Their reactions when Artemis cuts off that finger.)

Anyway this is an untapped GOLD MINE and I need ten billion fics immediately.

[ofmdrecaps]

10/18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Con O'Neill; Vico Ortiz; Boris McGiver; Guz Khan; Gypsy Taylor; Selenis Leyva; Tim Heidecker; Cohen Holloway; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

Hey crew. I spoke too soon on my dad, he's been sent back to the hospital so I'll be back to "who knows" when these will be posted-- which is basically as I have time. Sorry all. I would just expect them to be delayed a few days. Take care and stay safe out there, ya hear?

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys is back to his Murray duties and spreading the word for his son Finn's band-- Great Big Cow! Check them out Live at Heaven Can Wait NYC on December 16th!

Source: Rhys Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

Taika back at the TIFF!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by TIFF (@tiff_net)

Source: Tiff Instagram

= Con O'Neill =

Con O’Neill’s film The Men will be one of the films screened at Alnwick Playhouse 25th October. 7.30. £6. Get your tickets here!

Source: KrisDeeds

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico was out with Jack at -- well Nights of The Jack! Two years in a row!

Source: Vico Ortiz and Rabbit Glitter Instagram

= Boris McGiver =

Father Bonnet's new show -- Teacup is getting rave reviews from Stephen King! New Episodes every Thursday on Peacock if you're into horror shows!

Source: Boris McGiver's Instagram Stories

= Guz Khan =

More shots from Man From Mobeen!

Source: Guz' Instagram

= Gypsy Taylor =

I couldn't find anything specific on "The Minkie Awards" but it looks like director Minkie Spiro gives out these fun awards to the talent that works with her! (If you happen to know more please let me know!) As you can see, Gypsy got one for being the Queen of brilliance she is!

Source: Gypsy Taylor's Instagram

= Selenis Leyva =

Hey! Do you remembe Selenis Leyva, aka Nana? She just got married!

= Tim Heidecker =

Hey! Fabulous news -- On Oct 18th, Tim Heidecker, aka Mary's beloved Doug, has a new album out called Slipping Away! He had some interesting things to say about it in Variety! It's up on Spotify if you wanna check it out!

= Cohen Holloway =

Cohen Holloway aka Pop Pop has more news! He's been nominated for the New Zealand TV Awards for Best Actor in Dark City - The Cleaner! Gratz sir!

Source: NZTV Awards

== Love Notes ==

I hope you all are being kind to yourselves lovelies. I know this life can be hard. I really do. You got this though ok? Good luck this week.

Source: Stay Close To Yourself Instagram

Source: Tania'sCreativeWander

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Don't ask me the theme on this one, they just made me smile. Gifs courtesy of the wonderful @kiwistede and @noneviljen!

[allatariel]

WIP Wednesday!

@gordopickett tagged me earlier this week—thank you <3—and I planned to do it today and then of course forgot until the evening. I should have just done it and scheduled it to post today, but I had hoped to work more on Love at the Drafting Table and post that. Alas—I talk about a project and then life conspires to keep me from working on it!

Instead, below is an older, very rough snippet from another languishing, unfinished WIP, The Calculus of Grief, written at the end of April.

Tagging: @madamairlock, @littlelindentree, @caitylove, @shu-of-the-wind, @fireandsoup

More tags (split to work around broken tumblr tagging): @imsfire2, @cryscal, @air-mechanical, @youreorangeyoumoron, @wanderleave

And anyone else who might want to <3

Though the school year had barely just begun, it was actually still a month out from the second anniversary of Sergei’s first day teaching at Spiro T. Agnew High School. October 1, 1995 felt like a lifetime ago. To be honest, he tried to think about the time before as little as possible. But today was a different anniversary: September 4. Today it was harder than most days to ignore the gaping hole in the center of his life. Two years ago today he and his family had landed in Germany. After an hour of debriefing and setting the wheels in motion, of letting hope run wild and selecting a name to bear during their transition, he had called Margo from his hotel room. He had been overjoyed to see her, and when he hung up, his mother had joined him from the adjoining room where his father slept, with his sisters and their families resting safely down the hall. She had asked him about this woman who had saved him, who so clearly held the heart of her firstborn, her only son. So, Sergei had told her their story. For the first time in his life, he was free to tell his mother about the woman he had been in love with for well over ten years. Hours later, when the news reached them, she had pulled him sobbing into her arms as she had when he was small, before the births of his sisters. That was the only time he had given into the despair of losing her. He was trying to live, to stay safe as she had told him. To keep his family safe. And the only way he could manage to do that, to go on, was to leave it all behind. But then just last night he had seen on the news that the Sojourner 1 astronauts and Mars-94 cosmonauts had finally returned to Earth. After their nearly two year ordeal, the world joined in their joy and relief as the survivors were reunited with their loved ones. Sergei had watched Rolan Baranov, the cosmonaut turned astronaut—a defector like himself—be reunited with his American wife and son. His wife who had survived the bombing of JSC. Unlike Margo. Sergei honestly wasn’t sure how he’d made it into work at all. “Mr. Bezukhov?” Principal Alice Nikolsky—not Nikolskaya—called as she knocked on the door of the classroom. “We have a new student for your homeroom. She’s just transferred up from Huntsville, Alabama.” A young girl stepped into the doorway, her pale orange hair falling around wire rim glasses and shadowing her pale freckled face. She looked up, her blue eyes so like his mother’s, his own catching him already off guard as Alice introduced her, “Madison Morgan.”  Seryozha, if you do not let yourself mourn her, she will haunt you forever. His mother’s plea rose in his mind as he took in this child, bouncing nervously on balls of her feet. In another life they could have had a daughter who looked like this girl.

[yohanseyebrowmole]

Dum Spiro Spero

❛While I breathe, I hope.❜ The son of Hermes and the daughter of Apollo were always enough for each other. What happens when one of them starts yearning for more?

✧ Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!oc

✧ Warnings: Violence, Major Character Death, possible mentions of substance and/or alcohol abuse, Mild gore, Language, Mature themes.

Any potential triggers will be marked as will any potential mature content!

✧ Status: Ongoing

aesthetics previous // next chapter

The Prologue

His Greatest Lover and His Biggest Regret

✧ He watches as she drops to the floor, clutching the wound on her stomach. 

Blood begins to pool around her, and he hears the boy scream her name as she falls, but he couldn't care less. Did he do this? Surely not.

Her breaths are shaky as she sees the eyes of the man she loves change from molten gold back into the blue she loves so much. 

She watches as realisation sets in and horror-filled tears begin to fall down his face.

He did this. 

She was dying, and it was all his fault.

He runs over and falls to his knees beside her, pulling her to his chest, and for the first time in years, maybe even the first time in his life, he prayed to the gods. He prayed and begged for them to save her. He prayed to her father, whom he knew cared for her, to turn up and save her from the wound he had inflicted.

But he knew they would not come.

They were too busy fighting the chaos brought forth by his own hands. 

He felt a hand touch his cheek and looked at the girl in his arms. She smiles at him. He had done this to her, yet she still smiles at him, like he still means something to her.

He meant everything to her.

Even now, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. A sculpture crafted so carefully by the gods and fate that he cried harder knowing he had destroyed it. 

Luke Castellan wanted revenge but not like this.

Not with the only good thing to ever happen to him dying in his arms.

How could he live a life without her? Even as he feels the rage of the titan within him lashing out, even as he hears his voice screaming in his ears, all he can think about is her. 

In a moment of clarity, it clicks. 

He knew what he had to do.

He presses a kiss on his lover's forehead and lays her down. He asks the boy, whom he knew would make things right, to hand him the knife he had gifted his little sister so long ago. He watches as he hesitates for a moment, and he pleads. The righteous boy hands him the blade. 

He looks down and sees a tear slip out of her eyes. Her hands reach for him, but it falls limp halfway. He watches as it thuds against the ground.

I love you

She breathes it out as Thanatos takes her soul. 

The last words she ever spoke into existence were words of care and of love. The words showed her unwavering devotion to the boy she calls her home, her safe haven, and her reason. He had and would always mean everything to her.

The golden light that always seemed to encompass her flickers, dims, and burns out. Her skin grows pale, and her eyes grow vacant. A final tear falls from her eye. 

He watches as it runs down the bridge of her nose and down the rest of her face. Lifeless. She was dead.

The colours of the world grow dull, birds stop singing, the sun stops shining, and the temperature drops. He did this.

He unbuckles his armour, takes a breath, and buries the blade to its hilt under his left armpit.

Would the gods allow him to pray for her forgiveness? To beg for it? Would he be allowed to fall to his knees before her and beg for her mercy? Would that be selfish of him? Would she ever forgive him? Even if she didn't, he wouldn't blame her; he wouldn't forgive himself either.

She was his truest love and greatest regret.

She has asked him once: If he knew it all then, would he have done it again?

No, he wouldn't have. 

He could have—should have—taken her and ran. Far, far away from this place.

She had always said she wanted to live in a house by the beach. She had wanted a library and a room to paint in. Something small, but with room to grow. 

Somewhere away from everything. 

He should have taken her and ran when he had the chance. 

Instead, she lay dead next to him because of his own foolish desires.

The world flashes gold, and he recalls every moment with her as he crumples to the ground beside her and takes her hand in his.

Luke Castellan should have taken Hannah Gibson and ran. 

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N

My first official piece of writing getting published on here! I love how pretty I can make it hehe! Wattpad isn't like that <3

Thoughts???

Please tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist!

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 38

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Dum Spiro Spero

Notes: /

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. !!!Spicy and smut parts!!!. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +220K

Chapter:  38/41

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You had heard the commotion coming from the dining hall whilst walking past it with Mirena. She bursted into the room, knowing that that tone of Helio would lead to trouble. Helio took a step back upon seeing the look his wife had given him. Your heart dropped at the sight of Lancelot with a sword to his throat and a crack in his bloodied lip.

Something just snapped inside, you had drawn your sword and charged at the knights without warning. Some of them stepped back at the incoming storm, few others barely managed to draw their sword to defend themselves. The knights were forced back by your rage.

You raised your sword at them after managing to fight them away from Lancelot. “STAY BACK!”

Lancelot rose from the ground, not even he believed he could calm you now. Ser Florent discreetly signaled for them to listen to the warning.

Helio was appalled by it. “You let him into your bed!”

Mirena was stunned by the information, which told she had not known of it beforehand. “Helio-”

You weren’t happy at all that this had to be said in front of a bunch of knights, and both your parents on top of that. “That is none of your concern! How can you say this in front of everyone?!”

Helio pointed at you in accusation, “How could you?!” Then at Lancelot, “With him?!”

“How could I?!” You scoffed and let it all out, “He was there for me when no one else was! When I was convinced that my own father had turned his back on me! He was there for me when I was rotting away in a dungeon not once, but twice! He was there when paladins tried to defile me!”

The silence that fell was heavy like stone.

“Where were you?” It was your disappointment breaking through.

Helio could not meet your eyes, he could not even meet your mother’s.

“Father… I…” Your throat hurt from how tight it felt. “I am not asking for your blessing, only that you understand. I love him.”

“This… infatuation will pass.” His voice had gone cold. He gave the order to the knights, “Take him to the dungeons, he knew the consequences.”

The knights looked reluctant, pitying you, you hated to see it.

“Don’t touch him!” You snarled at Ser. Baron as he got closer.

The older knight gave Ser Florent a look, it warned you of what was to come.

Lancelot never drew his sword or resisted his sentencing, he surrendered to the mercy of Helio.

Ser. Baron grabbed your arm as you swung at him with your sword, the boar of a man tossed you forward towards Ser Florent and away from Lancelot. You knew they were trying to get you away from the Ash Man, and when Ser Florent did not listen to your warning, you lunged at his arm.

Ser Florent was skilled enough to block your attack as he tried to grab you. You must have nicked some part of him because there was blood on your sword. Seconds later you were on the ground and he was kneeling behind you, arms locked firm around your chest to keep you under control and on the ground as the other knights grabbed Lancelot and led him out of the dining hall.

“Let me go!” You snarled at the knight, who was quietly apologizing to you, and you saw that his hand was bleeding.

“Let them take him. At least he is alive.” Ser Florent tried to reason.

You jerked your head back and it hit him in the face, stubbornly he tried to hold on until you bend his index finger back and his hold faltered.

It was Mirena who stepped into your path, and grabbed you by the shoulders. “Enough!”

She was the only one in that moment who could have tamed some of the fury you felt. Ser Florent slowly reached for your arm and your glare made him reconsider.

You pleaded with her. “You cannot let father imprison him! Please!”

Mirena turned to Ser Florent. “Take my daughter to the courtyard to calm down. Let me speak to my husband alone.”

“There is nothing to discuss.” Helio sternly said.

Mirena gave him a certain look that told him he was in trouble for daring to say it. Ser Florent took you by the arm to lead you outside, but you ripped your arm free and walked to the courtyard yourself.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After waiting in the courtyard for a while, and hearing Helio’s thundering voice from afar, the decision was made. It was Matthew, of all people, who was send to share the news with Ser Florent, who then told you. Lancelot was send to the dungeons and was to remain there indefinitely.

After cooling your fury on one of the straw men meant for practice, you wished to head inside to speak to your parents again. Ser Florent remained at your side, wary of the sword that hadn’t left your hands. Mirena came to meet you, aware that the news must have reached you by now. She send the knight away to talk to you alone.

You tried to speak, “Mother-”

“Why did you not tell me?” She sounded quite disappointed.

“I’m sorry. But you see how father is reacting now that he knows.” You stammered less confident.

Mirena felt like she had failed. “I am not your father. To know that my daughter is not telling me something such as this, is gravely upsetting to me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Neither of you want me to be happy with Lancelot. Because you don’t know him the way I do. He’s not the Weeping Monk anymore, mother, that part of him died the night he saved Squirrel and I.”

Mirena was watching you, seeing how you tried to explain how this had all come to be.

“He’s kind, and annoying. Loyal and stubborn. I feel heard by him.” You sighed. “I know he’d never betray me, nor our people, I wish you and father could see that.”

“I do believe you. For this to have grown from your bond does not surprise me.” She admitted in a sigh. “But your father is as stubborn as they come. And for him to have learned that the Ash Man and you…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

You didn’t expect her to react this way, “Are you saying you have no objection to what is between Lancelot and I?”

“As a mother, I only wish for my child to be happy and safe. I know the Ash Man can provide both happiness and safety for you. But his past will always be in his shadow, Little Moon. And after Soran, your father is more than wary when it comes to those who have served the Church.”

It was a relief that she had grown to see past Lancelot’s past as the Weeping Monk. You shook your head a little. “He is nothing like Soran. Father has to see that some day.”

Mirena hoped for your patience. “Let him calm down today, y/n. He is in shock over this.”

You gave a bitter smile. “In the meantime, Lancelot is in the cold dungeons.”

She gave some valuable advice, “He is alive. And Helio has forgotten to order the knights that the Ash Man may not receive visitors.”

So you could visit him… perhaps even help.

“Go after sunset.” She said upon seeing the hope emerge in your eyes.

You gave a nod. “Mother, if Lancelot is condemned to spend his life in a dungeon I will not stand for it. If he is to be treated like this for the rest of his days here, I will leave the fort with him and find us a place where we can be together without others trying to keep us apart.”

She was greatly saddened, “You would live somewhere else?”

It hurt to tell the truth, but it was necessary. “I see my future with him. In all truth, I don’t see how to live without him anymore. I would choose to live in a cave over living here and us being shunned.”

Mirena wanted that idea out of your head. “I will not force my daughter to live in a cave. I shall speak to your father come morrow. Promise me you will give me the time to try and change his mind? Do not flee in the night again.”

A pang of guilt settled in you, you hadn’t forgotten how hurt she had been when you’d left. “I will not leave without telling you ‘goodbye’ again.”

She came closer and cupped that stubborn head on your shoulders, she pressed a kiss to your forehead before giving a stern look. “Never again.”

You meekly nodded and watched her walk away.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The day went by dreadfully slow. Of course the one having to explain why Lancelot was in the dungeons again, to Squirrel and Ciro, was you. You left out the details, and told them it was because the two of you had fallen in love and it was prohibited by Helio. The three of you were lying on the floor of their room, feet pointing at the walls, heads to each other.

“That’s stupid!” Squirrel angrily exclaimed.

You could only agree. “It is.”

“That she loves him?” Ciro asked Squirrel confused.

Squirrel almost rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid that Helio tossed Lancelot in the dungeon, just because they like each other.”

“Did you kiss him?” Ciro nosily asked you.

“Yuck.” Squirrel scrunched his nose.

Great. Your cousin would try to pry a ton of answers out.

“Sometimes.” You kept it vague.

Squirrel sounded skeptical and maybe even a little disgusted, “With Lancelot?”

You turned your head, and squinted your eyes at the bold child. “Yes.”

Squirrel looked at the ceiling again, “Ugh. Didn’t you used to hate him?”

It made you wince, your past self would slap you for even insinuating what would eventually happen. “We weren’t friendly…”

The cheeky boy arched a brow at you, you kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling

“Will he be free again?” Squirrel asked.

“He will. Even if I have to get him out of there myself.” You swore it.

“Did Uncle really shoot at him with the crossbow?” Ciro sounded a bit too enthusiastic.

You had to hear from Ser Florent afterwards how quick it had all escalated. “He did. And he missed. So, the lesson to be learned from that is to not act out of anger.”

“Or aim better.” Squirrel chimed in and grinned.

This child…

You got up on your feet and brushed some dust off the back of your trousers, “Speaking of lessons, how is your reading faring?”

“Good.” Ciro said, having read his fifth book in less than a month.

Squirrel shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “Fine…”

You knelt down next to Squirrel. “Don’t be worried if you’re learning slow. I am proud of you already for wanting to learn. Reading or not, you’re a clever boy, Squirrel.”

A little pair of blue skies looked up at you, the smile that formed matched them like the sun.

“I can always read the books for you.” Ciro offered, hoping for someone to share his favorite books with.

Squirrel did like that idea.

You looked out the window and saw the sky begin to darken. “I believe you two will be expected for dinner soon. Come on, up you go.”

You helped them both stand up from the ground and beckoned for them to walk with you. Whilst walking them to the dinning hall, where Mirena would be waiting, you brushed the dust away from their vests.

She was already awaiting them and ushered them inside before whispering to you, “Go now. Helio is eating and only Ser Florent is down by the dungeon now.”

You thanked her, grateful for her understanding. She didn’t need to tell you twice, you headed to the dungeons now that the fall’s early evening had arrived to offer the discretion that was needed.

Ser Florent was sitting on the floor next to the door that led down into the dungeons. He saw you coming and didn’t look surprised at all.

You stopped at his feet. “I’m here to see him.”

He looked up at you, “Does your father know you are here?”

“No.” You coolly said. “I’m sorry about your hand.”

He looked at it again, having covered it with a rag. “At least you did not take it off.”

You looked at the door again and saw that it was locked.

The knight searched his pocket, then held up the key to the door. “Leave it on the door when you go in.”

You took the key from his fingers and opened the door, stopping to ask, “Who told my father?”

Ser Florent gave you the truth. “Just a woman who was concerned for your safety when she saw the former Weeping Monk leave your room at the crack of dawn.”

It was a plausible explanation, anyone would be a bit worried if they saw someone acting suspicious in a fort still cloaked by the passing night.

“Do you have the key of his cell?” You tried.

“I do not.” He gave you a warning look.

You proceeded to the dungeons before he’d change his mind on letting you see Lancelot.

It was colder than you remembered down in the dungeons, it must be terrible in the winter to reside. He was in the very last cell, sitting against the wall near the bars.

You dropped to your knees, taking hold of the cold iron bars that seperated you from him. “Lancelot.”

The scent had warned him of your presence beforehand. The little light of a torch on the wall nearby offered him some sight of your facial features.

He changed to a kneeling position and put his hand over one you had on a bar, even such a small action caused your heart to swell. The blood on his lip had dried and sealed the wound shut. Your eyes glowed green as you let your magic heal him. He was too late to draw back his hand, his lip had already healed, and when you reached out and cupped his cheek he stilled instantly.

“I am so sorry.” You felt your throat tighten. “This isn’t right. I will find a way to get you out of this cell.”

He pulled back and reached for the sheath of his sword, he picked something off of it and it glistened in the dim light as he held it up for you to see.

The hairpin he had kept on himself ever since escaping the Brotherhood…

He had not even tried to free himself?

“No more running.” He was looking at the thin metal. “I have accepted this place and it’s people as my home. I will not escape and flee when my heart is at rest.”

It sounded like he was accepting this situation. “Fight for us.” You begged him, “I swear I will never stop fighting for you.”

You were trying to control your breathing, pressing your eyes shut to calm down. He reached through the bars and took your hand, turning it palm up, it was the tingling sensation that made your eyes open again. Small, green sparks of fire were dancing on your palm. His own hand was glowing again, the leaf pattern came to life. If it was his intention to distract you, it sure had worked.

“It doesn’t hurt me…”

“Of course not.”

These flames were born from him, from who he was, they obeyed to his will. And they stopped at his command again. His hand curled around yours, letting the sparks disappear. “We are together, you and the boy are safe. Helio will not keep me here forever, I do not believe the man to be so cruel as he wishes to seem.”

Your anger towards your father broke through. “He has no right to try and control who I want to be with.”

“He wants to keep you safe.” Lancelot reasoned.

The tears broke through, your voice broke, “By trying to kill the man I love? By forcing you into the same darkness I escaped from? He’s not keeping me safe, he’s hurting me.”

Lancelot hushed you when you began to cry. “Go back to the warmth of the castle.”

And leave him there alone? Not a chance.

“I won’t leave you in this darkness alone.” The light from the torches was too far away to even reach his cell.

His tone got firmer. “Y/n.”

Yours matched it. “No.”

You turned and sat with your back against the bars. “I’m staying. They’ll have to drag me out if they want me to leave.”

There was a moment of silence, then you felt his hand caress the side of your neck. He felt so close and yet so far.

He sounded sorrowful, “I do not want harm to come to you.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him sit down against the bars with his side, trying to get an arm around you. You adjusted, sitting side by side with him, the bars forming a frustrating barrier.

Your head leanest against the iron, your fingers curled into his sleeve. “I’m the one who’ll harm them if they try.”

He settled on stroking along your arm, it was more comfortable.

“I wish my father could see into my heart and understand why I fell for you. He just never listens to me, I-” Your voice broke again, “I was kept imprisoned for so long, and now my father will not let me free either.”

Lancelot withdrew his hand and moved a little. “Y/n-”

You were too upset to listen. “I know what you’re going to say. He wants to ‘protect’ me, to keep me ‘safe’. But he never cares about how it makes me feel when he tries to control me. I am so, so, tired of being controlled by others. I thought that was over when we escaped the Brotherhood and the paladins. And now I’m sitting in a dungeon again, after being forced to live in one in darkness for months, all because my father does not care that it is haunting my dreams.”

Lancelot moved away from you and got up from the ground. “He heard you.”

You frowned and looked up at him.

“Y/n.” Helio’s voice came from behind you.

You were on your feet within the second. “Father-”

Helio was looking at you, at the tears that stained your cheeks and the look of a deer facing a hunter. Lancelot held his breath, not ready to see you be dragged out of that place.

And when the Dawn Man looked at him, he did not see the same rage he had seen that morning.

“I had two sisters.” Helio began as he stepped closer. “One who fell for one of our own, and one who fell for a man who I learned was of the Brotherhood. Naia was used for her healing by him, by the Brotherhood, until she succumbed to the weakness it caused.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, finally understanding why he had reacted the way he did.

Helio spoke to Lancelot. “He told her he loved her, and she believed him. Then he got her imprisoned until her death. I was locked away in the same place as her after I had tried to save her, I met Mirena in that time. He was the first of the Brotherhood to fall at my blade.”

“You never told me…” You said, you knew there had been two aunts, but never that one had been tricked like this.

Helio put a hand on your shoulder. “I failed to save her, failed to protect her against him. She gave him her heart and he led her to her death. I cannot stand the thought that history might repeat itself.”

You sensed the pain it had brought him to lose a sister in such a cruel way. With slow steps you closed the distance and embraced him, the anger inside turned into understanding.

“But you are not Naia.” Helio returned the embrace, sighing. “You are my clever daughter. I need to trust that you would know what to do if you would ever be betrayed. After all, I thought you how to fight.” He let go off you and walked past you to Lancelot. “You are by far the worst monk I have encountered in my life. Fled the clergy, fell for those they consider sinners and broke the vow.”

The Ash Man didn’t know what to say, it’s not like Helio was wrong about it all.

“Father-” You sighed.

He continued, ignoring your protest, “A terrible monk, but perhaps a good man.”

Your expression changed instantly, as did Lancelot’s, both struck by disbelief.

Of course Helio was not that quick to forget the audacity the Ash Man had shown. “Good man or not, if you harm my daughter I shall make you experience the same suffering the Brother felt upon dying.”

Lancelot took the warning to heart. “If I ever am foolish enough to harm her, I will hand you my own sword to use.”

Helio would remember that vow, from the pocket of his vest he pulled the metal ring with keys to the cells on it. You couldn’t believe your eyes when your father proceeded to unlock the cell and let Lancelot out.

Helio explained to him, “I care about my child’s heart enough to give you a chance to protect it. Do not make me regret it.”

Lancelot stepped out of the cell, feeling much smaller then he was in front of the man, “Could I have my swords returned to me?”

You actually winced at the ill-timed question.

Helio’s eyes became like steel. “Be glad I am letting you keep your head. I will think about the swords.”

He looked Lancelot up and down with a slight hint of irritation. “Go to your quarters. Consider the lack of a meal part of your punishment, you have clenched your other appetite instead.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, knowing what he was referring to and feeling quite embarrassed, “Are you going to deny me my meal too?”

Helio turned at the slight arrogant tone. “I would, but your mother would gift me a headache. Go eat.”

You didn’t move, sensing he was sending you away to speak to Lancelot alone. One look from the Ash Man convinced you to go up to the dining hall.

“Please, don’t hurt him.” You said to Helio.

He gave a nod and waved his hand, ushering you to go. With reluctance you left the dungeons, and highly curious to learn what was going to be said down there.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Breakfast in the dining hall felt quite uncomfortable the next morning. Neither you nor Lancelot had visited each other last night, perhaps a wise decision. The knights who had been present at Helio’s outburst were trying not to stare in your, or Lancelot’s, direction too often, it was still plenty enough to notice them doing so.

The Ash Man sat almost at the end of a table at the other side of the room from where you were, quietly drinking some soup whilst stealing glances with you every time that bowl lifted to his mouth. What had been said between Helio and him last night? Threats and warnings? Or had it been a genuine conversation? No injuries were visible on him, that was a relief, and he had gotten his swords back as well.

You felt another pair of eyes on you and looked around to see your mother watching you watching him. She shook her head a little, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth. She would have scolded you for staring at him so much. You fixed your attention on the soup in front of you, before Squirrel who sat beside you would think you were done with it and try to slide it over to himself to eat. In the meantime, Helio never lifted his eyes up from his meal, as if he had stopped caring who was looking at who.

“Ash Man.” He suddenly called out and almost everyone in the room fell silent, “You are traveling with the knights to the chapel today.”

Lancelot appeared a little taken aback, “I am?”

Helio finally looked up from his soup and at him. “You came up with the plan. See to it that it goes as envisioned.”

Ser Florent gave a discreet nod in the Ash Man’s direction.

Lancelot cleared his throat. “Of course.”

If not for last night’s conversation, he would have believed it to be a trap. To be send along with the knights after all that had happened yesterday…

After breakfast, when they headed to the stables, you hurried after the knights.

“Ser Florent?” You called out for him, he turned to look at you. “I am coming along as well.”

Matthew saw it happen, “Can’t you go without the Ash Man for one moment?”

It was a snide comment, your mood turned to ice. The other knights heard his blatant attempt to embarrass you in front of them, even Lancelot had heard it be said. Had he gotten so bitter? Was he always like this with others?

Ser Florent granted him not a single look. “Be quiet, Matthew.”

You followed his example and ignored Matthew.

“It’s alright by me if you want to come along. Will you do me the honor of riding beside me?” Ser Florent asked.

“I’d love to.” You knew he was asking it so he could keep Matthew and you apart.

But by the looks of it, Lancelot might have suspected something else. You walked away from the staring knights and proceeded to the stables ahead of them. Some of them gawked at you for so long that you wondered why they didn’t just make a sketch of you if they wanted to stare. Even if it was not being said aloud, you could still sense the silent gossip that must be happening between them and in the fort. It bothered you that your relationship with Lancelot was undoubtedly the subject.

You readied Aella‘s saddle and were halfway done when they entered the stables as well.

Ser Florent came over, pretending to inspect the stirrup whilst whispering to you, “It will get better.”

You hoped so, because this wasn’t fun at all. “I hate to be looked at like I committed a crime.”

The knight consoled you. “You did nothing wrong. I think they are just enjoying the spectacle that comes with the connection between you and the Ash Man.”

It sounded plausible. “Ugh.”

He smiled. “It will pass, something else will come along and pull their attention.”

You gave a grateful smile back at him, and he went to fetch his horse. Just when you wanted to lift yourself into the saddle, you felt a little tug at your jacket.

Lancelot was at your side, looking somewhat concerned, “You are riding beside him?”

You sighed a little. “Only so I don’t have to hear another snide remark from Matthew.”

He could feel the stares of the others in his direction, it felt almost suffocating.

He was visibly bothered that it would cause you to keep a distance from him over it, “Since when do you listen to childish comments?”

It was not meant to be confronting, he was only concerned.

You lowered your voice so others wouldn’t hear. “I still hear them, Lancelot. And sometimes they do hurt, even if I don’t show it.”

You put your hand on the horn of the saddle to pull yourself up.

He placed a hand over the one you had there, fully aware that the knights were seeing it happen. “I am sorry.”

You nodded. “It’s fine. It’s just been a lot to live through lately.”

Ser Florent was leading his horse through the stables. “It is time to go.”

Lancelot did not move his eyes from your face, it should have warned you for what was to happen. By the time you had read his eyes, he had already leaned in to kiss your temple. It was a quick peck, but all who were present in the stables had seen it and shared looks amongst one another. That sneaky twit walked over to Goliath, ignoring the stares aimed at him. You took a second to compose yourself, then hoisted yourself into the saddle.

As agreed, you rode beside Ser Florent. At some point, on your way down the hill, you had asked him what his lady-friend was like. And gods, he described her in such great detail that it lasted until you reached the village. Red hair, the smile of a goddess, and the heart of a lover. The knight had not a bad word to say about her, the lovestruck look in his eyes as he spoke of her was evident. None of the other knights said a word against his infatuated rambling, they knew better than to try and tell him to stop. It was actually making your day better to hear him speak so full of love and joy, minutes had passed before you realized you had been smiling the whole time. He was so unashamedly proud to love her. As it should be. You looked back at Lancelot, who rode not far behind the two of you and who was watching the enamored knight speak so enthusiastically. In time, it would be as it should be, for you and for him.

“I would love to meet her.” You interrupted the rambling knight.

He was enthusiastic immediately, “You would?”

After all the praise he’d given, it should have been obvious. “Of course!”

It was like you were one of the only people who had listened to him speaking about her. “I’ll bring her to the fort.”

You would not dampen that excitement. “Excellent.”

You reached over and touched the hand he hand on the reins of his horse.

Ser Florent was confused at first, until he no longer felt the wound on his hand, “Did you heal me?”

You gave a nod. “I don’t want your lady to think I’m some kind of madwoman.”

He let out a chuckle and removed the stained rag from his hand. “I do not consider you a madwoman, you have that same sweetness in you that Mirena has.”

You jested about it. “Perhaps it’s under a few more layers with me.”

“Nonsense.” He tsked. “Look what you just did, that was sweet. You did not have to do it, but you did anyway.”

That kind flattery was surely a part of how he had managed to earn this woman’s heart.

You saw the chapel come into sight. “Well, we need the knights of the Fey. I should make sure that you can use your hand in battle when needed.”

“I still have my other.” He shrugged it off.

Lancelot had overheard it and gave a scoffing chuckle at the knight’s optimism.

“What?” Ser Florent looked back at him, “Good swordsmen can fight with just one hand. Can’t you?”

“I can.” He said.

“I’ve seen him wield two swords at once.” You bragged a little for him.

Ser Florent was slightly impressed, he looked at him again. “Next time we spar, you are showing that to me again, Ash Man.”

Lancelot feigned a sigh, like he didn’t love to show off his skill in front of others. “Very well.”

Ser Florent whispered in your direction, “Tad arrogant that one, isn’t he?”

“Just a bit.” You grinned.

“Just enough for you, eh?” The knight chuckled.

True. There was a certain alluring aspect that came with it.

Some knights had parted ways with the group, to complete the tasks they had been given to start the plans for the chapel. Some were seeking for healers, another went to arrange matters with the lumberman.

And you? You were appointed the task of removing relics of the Church inside the chapel and stuffing them into a satchel. All what was made of iron would be used to forge weapons, wood could be repurposed for repairs. It still felt strange to break the iron crosses from the pews with your sword, but the sick and wounded Feys would not feel very comfortable surrounded by the symbols of those who sought their extinction. If even you felt a bit strange doing this, you worried how Lancelot must be feeling. This was his past, his upbringing…

You kept an eye on him as he and the knights worked together to move the pews to a more useful position.

“We will need to collect pillows and bed linen.” He told them whilst pointing at the pews. “Those curtains by the entrance will be useful for it.”

The knights looked a bit stunned by the Ash Man’s little care for what happened to what had once been a place of worship. Ser Florent waved them away, signaling for them to take down the curtains as Lancelot had suggested.

He then helped Lancelot move another pew to the side of the building. “I’m glad you are hear with me to help.”

“And I am glad I can help.” Lancelot told him.

It was nice to see them get along so well, Ser Florent treated him like any other, something Lancelot wanted. Someone who would not look at him and see a former monk, but just a man who was trying to do his best. You broke the last cross of off a pew, and they picked it up to move it right after.

“Great work.” Ser Florent praised you.

Lancelot parroted it to you cheekily. “Great work.”

You rolled your eyes at the growing urge for mischief in him. Some of the knights returned with the curtains and began to drape them over the pews, changing the hard surface into a softer one.

“Care to inspect it?” Ser Florent shot you a grin while patting one of the pews with his hand.

“Alright.” You went over to indulge the request.

You laid down on the covered pew. Lancelot shook his head at the sight, amused by it.

“Any opinions?” The knight asked.

“I don’t feel my holiness increasing. So I guess that means it’s fine.” You jested.

This time it was Lancelot who rolled his eyes, and he offered you a hand to get up again.

You let him help you to your feet, chest almost bumping into his which he clearly didn’t mind, “Is it going as you thought it would?”

“Better.” The Ash Man admitted.

The door of the chapel opened and in walked the lumberman with some volunteers and the requested wood. In his profession it was easy to find those handy with a hammer and a saw, they were his most common patrons. Most of the volunteers worked together to fix up the roof, others went into the former sleeping quarters to fix the walls. In mere hours the chapel changed before your very eyes, everywhere you looked someone was working on building this infirmary. Two elder healers had already come to bring their supplies to the new infirmary and with the help of Matthew they arranged for the sleeping quarters to be used as the room for storing medicine. The kitchen transformed into a place suitable for medicine preparation. The village came together to achieve this, everyone was helping everyone. At some point Lancelot even helped Matthew.

You worked in the chapel for hours, building the future of the village with your own hands felt good. By nightfall, the people and most of the knights had already returned home. You were still down in the kitchen, cleaning it up as best as you could so dust would not find it’s way into the medicine that would be prepared there.

Lancelot came to collect you. “The sun has set, we should return to the fort. Ser Florent is waiting for us.”

You put down the wet rag you had been using. “I want you to know that I am thankful for how open you were to do this. This place, a chapel…��

He beckoned for you and watched as you got closer. “Your faith in me, is the only faith I need.”

You reached for his jerkin and used it to pull him in. He understood the unspoken request, his gaze fell down to your lips whilst tilting his head to reach them.

Someone cleared their throat nearby.

Ser Florent still stood with one foot on the steps of the stairs, “Can that wait until we are back at the fort?”

“Where my father is?” You deadpanned.

The knight would hear no excuses, “Since when does that stop you?”

Your mouth fell open, stunned by the wit. Not even Lancelot looked like he had expected to hear it.

Ser Florent bit back a smile. “Come on, we are leaving.”

Like two scolded children, you followed him up the stairs. The chapel no longer looked like a chapel. The pews had been transformed into beds. The alter was now used to hold the bowls with clean water for wound care. It was such a change.

“We did well.” Ser Florent said.

“Indeed.” You and Lancelot echoed.

The remainder of the knights were still carrying in some items as you walked past them to the horses, it was a task to not trip over the materials in the dark left behind for the night.

“Watch your step here.” Ser Florent said, seconds before he tripped over an abandoned hammer himself.

You were the first to reach and help him, Lancelot hooked an arm under his and pulled him up.

“I’m fine. Healing me will not be necessary.” The knight chuckled a bit embarrassed.

Lancelot jested to him, “If it were so, you would be the first to seek healing in our new infirmary.”

Ser Florent send him a look at that witty comment. The knight brushed the dirt from his trousers and proceeded towards his horse. You smacked Lancelot’s arm lightly, giving him a scolding look which he simply looked away from. Lancelot did his best not to laugh when he saw the knight pluck some grass out of his mouth that had gotten in there with the fall. It wasn’t until you went to hoist yourself into the saddle that you felt how tired you had become.

“Ugh.” You uttered your dismay at it.

Lancelot did not even have to ask, “Tired?”

You groaned. “It’s been a while since I’ve been tired from working instead of healing.”

“It builds muscle.” Lancelot said.

“How would you know?” You teased.

That sure earned you half a glare from him, but he knew you were doing it to get on his nerves.

Ser Florent laughed a little, enjoying the dynamic between you and the Ash Man. “Women, they know just what to say.”

Lancelot shared a look with him.

“Oi!” You warned them both if they were to pair up against you. You steered your horse away when they began to chuckle, grumbling, “I’m going home.”

The men followed right behind you for a while as you rode through the village. Villagers were returning to their homes, children hurried to get home before their parents would begin to worry. For a moment it felt like there was no war going on, this place had been spared from the cleansings only because the Church held no power over King Cenred’s lands. But how long before Uther and Cenred would be at war? The Church would surely plead loyal to Uther if it meant they could continue their cleansings in Cenred’s kingdom. The only way forward for the Fey was to rebuild and unite for when the time would come to fight.

Back at the fort, the horses were taken back to the stables. Ser Florent left right after bringing his horse in the stable to rest. As did Lancelot once Goliath was back with your mare for the night, the men had been conversing and probably wanted to continue. You brushed Aella’s coat with some straw, then did the same for Goliath. The sound of someone else leading their horse inside made you look. You stopped brushing Goliath’s coat when you saw Matthew walk in.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” He said upon seeing you in a little rush to leave the stables. He left his horse with Ser Florent’s, and came over to you.

You scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

Matthew gave a poor excuse for his behavior, “I mean it. It’s just not easy for me to accept that you’re with the ‘Weeping Monk’. Out of all people…”

Really?

Your tone was cold. “It wasn’t easy for me to see you with others after you rejected me either! I never embarrassed or insulted you for it!”

He was looking at you with remorse, but you did not know if it was genuine or not anymore, your trust in him was almost completely gone.

“And stop calling him that!” You nearly snapped it at him, and walked past him to exit the stables. The hope that he would leave you alone vanished when he rushed after you. When you kept walking, he caught you by the wrist.

“What?!” You ripped your wrist free.

Matthew kept a distance, “Are we really going to act like this to each other? After all these years.”

You tried to calm down a little. “You said it yourself. It’s better if we go our own way.”

He shifted his weight to his other leg. “And I stand by it. But we can still be civil to each other.”

It nearly got you speechless, you were more stunned than angry. “You’re the one who is making this hard. And I’m starting to feel like you keep shifting the blame to everyone but yourself.”

Matthew’s expression changed, like he had finally listened for the first time.

“Have a good evening, Matthew.” You concluded the conversation that had dragged on for too long already in your opinion. Ending the conversation came not a moment too soon, you had just spotted Lancelot waiting at the gate for you.

“You too.” Matthew could be heard calling after you.

Once you had reached the gate, Lancelot asked about it.

“Trouble?” His eyes were like steel as they kept Matthew in their sight.

You took him by the elbow. “No.”

To you, this was nothing more than a confirmation that Matthew was quite selfish. Lancelot walked with you where you passed a chatting couple. Whilst you greeted them politely, the man of the pair was far from it.

~“Whore.”~

The woman he was with was looking at you both in disgust. Lancelot’s whole demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. You stepped in front of him, back facing him while you faced the rude couple.

The anger from earlier had your wit sharp as a blade. “I wasn’t given any payment. He had me without charge.”

It was said with such arrogance and smugness that the Ash Man couldn’t seem to believe that you had said it out loud. The man who had insulted you ran red in the face as the couple hurried away.

Once they were out of hearing range, you cussed him out too. “What a rotten knave.”

It took you another second to notice Lancelot’s flushed face.

“What?” You said.

With a smirk and raised brow, he asked, “Without charge?”

You smiled awkwardly. “Shut it.”

He scratched at his chin, then reached for your hand until he suddenly halted. You turned to see what had gotten his attention.

Squirrel was looking at the both of you a little confused, “What does ‘whore’ mean?”

Lancelot shared a panicking look with you. To hear the word come out of the boy’s mouth gave him quite the fright.

Squirrel got a bit impatient, “I’ve heard it before, I know it’s a cuss. But what does it mean?”

Your mind had gone blank. Was he not too young to learn the meaning of the word?

With a deep breath, Lancelot went over to the boy and beckoned for him to follow. There was a chance that the boy would get quite an awkward answer out of the Ash Man, but you were glad that he took the initiative to be the person the boy could seek guidance from. You watched him walk beside Squirrel slowly, he spoke to him in a low voice so others would not overhear.

“What?!” Squirrel loudly exclaimed all of a sudden.

The poor Ash Man looked like he was completely out of his element.

“But y/n doesn’t kiss a lot of people!” Squirrel was appalled and maybe even disgusted.

You turned and headed in the other direction before Lancelot would call out for your help in this. He would be fine…

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

An hour must have past.

Considering Squirrel was still awake, you went to see if Ciro was in his room. Upon creaking the door open, you found Ciro peacefully asleep. It was getting late and Lancelot had still not brought the boy to the room to sleep. Either the boy was distracting him, or the Ash Man had simply not paid attention to how dark the sky outside had gotten. Your search for them began, on your way to the courtyard you noticed the light coming from under the door to the library. And indeed you found them inside, talking to each other quietly on the floor.

They stopped once they noticed your presence. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s alright.” Lancelot said.

You used the tone Mirena had often used on you when you were small. “Time for bed, young Squirrel.”

Lancelot turned his head to look at the window, he truly must not have noticed the time until then. The boy used Lancelot’s shoulder as support whilst getting up from the ground. It was small things such as this that showed how comfortable they had grown with each other.

“Goodnight.” The boy said to him first, then to you.

“I’ll see you in the morning’s light.” You rhymed.

His eyes flicked to the ceiling for a blink at the silliness. The boy walked out the door.

“Your room is in the other direction.” You called out after him.

Squirrel mumbled something to himself and headed in the other direction. You were trying not to giggle at the child’s attempt to delay his night’s rest further. Lancelot rose from the ground, picking up the book he must have been reading with Squirrel.

You were quite curious as to what they had been talking about, “What were you two chatting about so late?”

There was a solemn look in his eyes. “We spoke about the Fey camp he came from.”

The one he had led the paladins to…

He had apologized. For everything. For every mistake he had made that had hurt the boy directly and indirectly.

“He forgives me. For all of it.” He still couldn’t believe it.

Your heart swelled. “Because he has grown to love you, even if he might not say it out loud to you.”

To him it seemed so unbelievable. “I consider it a miracle that he did not use the knife, that you have given him, on me.”

“You’re the one who sharpened it for him.” You quipped.

He came to stand at your side whilst placing the book back on the shelf. “He is clever. He will grow into a good man.”

You gave a smile. “He has a good example to guide him.”

He appreciated the compliment greatly. “Do not underestimate your own influence on him, he seeks your guidance as much as he seeks mine.”

You stilled when he brushed his hand over the back of your head, it was such a small gesture but it made you feel so loved. His thumb touched your cheek, and then he pulled his hand back.

You bumped into his arm playfully, “What did you tell Squirrel about that insult?”

The look on his face was comical, it must not have been easy to speak to the boy of this. “I told him it was an insult, and why some thought it proper to use it.”

“And?” You pried.

“He knows now that such a thing should never be said. Even if a woman kisses many.” He said and swallowed thickly.

You squinted your eyes at him, “You do know that the insult refers to doing more than just a kiss?”

He gave a look. “I know. But the boy is too young for now. And I had to prevent him from going to throw a rotten egg at the couple.”

Wait… “Where would he get a rotten egg?”

He blinked twice, “He hoards them under his bed. You do not know of it?”

Your mouth fell agape. “Wha-… of course I don’t! Did you tell him to throw them away?”

“Should I?” He actually put genuine thought into it.

“Lancelot.” You scolded.

He surrendered under that scolding look. “I will tell him tomorrow.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Tomorrow? Let me guess, after he threw that egg?”

His eyes gave it away. “Perhaps.”

A sigh passed your lips. “Whilst we are speaking of angry knights holding a grudge, what exactly did my father speak to you about last night?”

The Ash Man folded his hands together behind his back. “We spoke for quite some time.”

It was obvious that that conversation had been quite nerve-wracking for him. Of course that only fueled your curiosity. “I’ve never known my father to be capable of having a long conversation…”

He began naming a few things that stood out from that conversation. “He told me he would have murdered me, if our night together had been one with a full moon.”

“Gods…” It was enough to feel embarrassed, you hid your face in your hand, “What else did he say?”

He was a tad amused by the response. “Helio wanted to know everything about my upbringing.”

Oh no… that must have been painful. “Gods, I’m so sorry-”

Lancelot watched you bring your hand around his arm to draw him closer. “Do not worry. I told him what he wanted to know. He wanted to hear how I became who I am now, to understand.”

At least now Helio seemed interested in learning who he was.

“He stopped asking once I began speaking of Goliath.” He said.

You snorted a laugh at that, “What did you tell him about dear Goliath?”

The spark in his eyes when you showed interest on the topic was lovely. “That I found Goliath in the forest as a wild steed. I saw him a couple of times before, but he ran off every time I came close to him.”

By leaning your head against his shoulder, you showed that you were listening.

He quietly continued. “I was only a year or two younger than Percival I believe, when I was near the monastery after one midday, Goliath emerged from the trees and walked over to me with caution. As I sat on the grass, this graceful creature joined my side.”

Maybe the loyal animal had once believed his marks to be tears, maybe Goliath wished to comfort a weeping child. He had bonded with him instantly. There was only Goliath and Father, and often when Father was disappointed, there was only Goliath.

He put a hand over the one you had on his arm. “When I met you, it felt similar to the day I met Goliath. There was something different…”

“A call of destiny?” You asked, not offended that he compared the two meetings.

“I believe it was.” He admitted a long kept secret. “Even now, I can still feel it. Your eyes that glow green, I dreamed of them many a night since we met.”

It was not uncommon for others to never forget the sight of magic. “Probably because I was healing you when you saw it first.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “I know now that destiny has brought us together. I wonder what, or who, else it will bring to us.”

“It brought us Squirrel.” You said.

He hummed in agreement. “The boy bound us together.”

You thought back to when you had almost made the biggest mistake. “I was going to leave you after we fled the paladin camp, but Squirrel refused to come without you.”

Lancelot recalled the moment as well. “Everything could have been different if he was not there. I would not be here. You would have still hated me.”

Many things would have went a different route. “I’d probably be killed by Soran, or eaten by wolves.”

He turned until he was facing you. “We would not be, as we are now.”

It was actually frightening to think of it. All of it happened because Squirrel had convinced you to not leave the Ash Man behind despite your hate for him. If you had been more stubborn…

A lump formed in your throat at the thought, your voice broke. “I can’t envision a life without you…”

He was filled with regret upon seeing you become upset at the mere thought that he would not be with you.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to put on a brave face and felt silly for how it had made you feel.

His arms still came around to encapsulated your form, he wasn’t going anywhere without you. As if it was a certain skill that he did not know he possessed his fingers massaged the back of your scalp soothingly. Always when in his arms, there was the wish to be as close to him as possible. Your hands tangled in his jerkin, your face rested against his chest, anything to be close.

“I will always be with you, by heart and soul.” He gently hushed.

“Always?” You asked.

“Always.” He vowed.

You leaned back a little, looked into his eyes, “Does that mean I won’t be alone in my room tonight?”

His thoughts were racing, you must have noticed how surprised he was to hear the inquiry.

The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. “I had to evade two arrows for spending a night with you.”

You grinned back at him, teasing, “Surely a man like yourself is not scared away so easily? We don’t have to do anything other than sleep.”

His voice went down into a husk. “You see, that might be a problem…”

“Why?” You asked.

His hand came up and his fingers held your chin. “Because I want you.”

That confession, mixed with the genuine intense interest in his gaze, made you fall silent. He felt your bottom lip with his thumb. When your eyes locked on his lips, you fell at their mercy as they crashed unto yours.

The fear of being hunted down by a crossbow did not stop him from indulging your request to not be alone in the night.

It was as if your lips had not parted, not even as your back hit the mattress of his bed mere moments later and the gasp was let out into his mouth. His hand wandered over you, drowning your body with attention. The hunger in him as he kissed from your shoulder to your neck was setting you aflame. There was more confidence in him, he worked on undoing the bodice, you were as impatient as he was and began to help. He uttered something against your neck. You hummed, not having heard what was said.

“I love you.” He breathed under your ear, repeating it out of fear that you hadn’t heard him well, “I love you very much.”

You curled your fingers in his hair, pressed a kiss to his head. “And I love you. Always and forever.” It was an oath you made.

He got that leather open far quicker than you could have anticipated, his hand went under it immediately. You couldn’t help but be baffled and smile at the eagerness he displayed.

“Gods…” You chuckled a little when he palmed a breast shamelessly.

His mouth latched onto the skin under your ear, sucking it gently, teeth grazing over it.

If he could act this bold, so could you. Your hand teasingly traveled down his chest and to the cord of his trousers, loosening them just enough to slip past the waistband. He choked a breath when feeling your hand wrap around him, he stopped kissing you for a moment and rested his face in the crook of your neck. You brought your other hand back to his hair and softly massaged his scalp. He held the sheet in his balded fist, moaning deeply against your skin. Your knee came up to rest against his hip, his free hand flew to your thigh to hold it close. This was pleasant, to have such control and hear him utter your name in that low tone. You had no objections to him chasing his release like this, the night had only just begun. He was terribly sensitive now, like he had been hoping for this the whole day. He kneaded at the soft flesh of your thigh, nearly panting in your neck.

“Did you miss this?” You teased softly.

He could barely form the sentence. “I… missed… you.”

“You’re so sensitive tonight.” Your observation fell. “Will it not be better if I please you like this first? We can share another moment together once you’ve rested or when you’re up for it again.”

The last time, his body had been ready again quicker than he thought it could possibly be. He had fallen asleep, but woke again minutes later when your knee had grazed near his groin in your sleep, all of him had woken and kept him awake until the feeling had subsided again. If you had not send him out of the room that morning, he would have easily hardened again to offer you a repeat of the night before. And with all that had happened, this longing had increased strongly inside of him. Not long ago he had believed to be spending the rest of his life in a dungeon, unable to ever have a moment such as this with you again. Now that he was free, he would not let a moment like this go to waste. Getting rid of this dire need for release, would make him be able to enjoy you longer afterwards.

The answer came in the form of him putting his hand over the one you were using to stimulate him, he held it loosely as it continued to do so.

“I will reward your generosity.” His lips brushed over your jaw. “In any way you want me to.”

Soft giggles past your lips when his mouth touched a ticklish spot under your jaw. Often he moved into your hold on him, struggling to keep his vocal responses to a low volume.

His mouth stopped moving along your collarbone when the knock at his door sounded. Then a flood of knocks hammered on his door, and he sighed in frustration.

“Who-” You began.

“Ser Florent.” He knew it right away.

Your hold on him went away, and he climbed off of you.

It made you panic a little, “What do I do?”

“The same you made me do?” He grinned, and gestured to the spot behind his door. He got quite a look in return for that, but you did follow the advice

As you stood behind the door, you took the moment to close up your bodice again.

He put on his cloak to hide the state he was in, and only opened the door a little, “Yes?”

Ser Florent stood there, looking quite tired, “You are still awake? Thank the gods. May I ask for a moment of your time? I need some help with escorting a couple of people, who found the rest of the ale from the feast down by the kitchens, to their sleeping quarters.”

From behind the door you heard the Ash Man sigh.

“I will help.” Lancelot told him.

He followed Ser Florent, closing the door of his room behind him and leaving you inside alone. You picked your jacket up from the floor where it had been carelessly abandoned moments ago. It was a pity that the interruption had occurred, you thought it best to just head to your own room for the night.

Taglist:

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[quailxcrossing]

CHARACTER DYNAMIC ASK GAME YES!!! You have so many amazing duos….

Machwell and Bartenn (I’m predictable) 5, 3 and 16!!

Magic and Ruse - 1, 6 and 8!

Ruse and Esperanza - 13, 15 and 7!

Runo and Peony - 2, 4, 9!

aaand Spiro and Tai - 2 and 11!

BWBWBWB i want to talk about dynamics so much and you selected like. all of my favorites

thank you for being one of the biggest machwell and bartenn fans ever . i will write a lot about them, just 4 you

MACHWELL AND BARTENN

5. A has to get B a gift. right now. what would they get? how long would they spend thinking about it? Machwell's POV oh god i can't even express how bad Machwell is at gifts. when the pressure is on, he truly forgets most anything that person ever liked- and his ability he feels like to fulfill this task is shot down to 0. can you imagine Francine being good with gifts? yeah. Machwell would work himself in a stupidly long tizzy, so stressed out to pick something that's not only perfect, but something that Bartenn will receive well, and he overthinks and replays fake scenarios of every possible reaction Bartenn could have-

-without actually getting him anything. and the longer this goes on, the worse he feels, the harder it is to think of anything-

gifts from Machwell will come in due time. they're heartfelt by the nature they came from him, and usually in the form of perishables. that's great! that's exactly what Bartenn wants!!!! it's hard to give gifts in Nhales anyway- and he's always so overjoyed when Machwell brings over some drinks or gummies or bbq bacon pizza, and there's always room for him to enjoy it too!! cmon sit down!!

3. what's something A thinks in their head about B that they would NEVER tell them out loud? alternately, what's something they want to say to them but haven't/can't, and why not? Bartenn's POV Bartenn definitely struggles with articulating how much Machwell really means to him; yeah they're close, but they're also middle-aged men who aren't doing Therapy-Speak at each other. its impossible for either of them to say "hey, you know you're my friend, right, and i care about you immensely and i'm sad when you're not around and you keep me on this planet"??? i dont even think he can think thoughts like that. how could he possibly say that....

16. free space: what's your favorite thing about their dynamic, as a fan or as a writer? smiles :) i just like them......I like how a character (Machwell) who originally started as literally "well he's Goat's absent father, who he would have never had any chance to meet, so he pretty much exists to make him warm-colors" and then Bartenn was a character I, like....got in a custody battle with my ex-girlfriend?? not really sure how it happened, honestly. but she gave him to me! and i was, like....not in a good headspace, so Bartenn got set aside for almost a year

and then they looked at each other....and Bartenn tried to give Machwell weed-paranoia. and ruffled his hair and told him to get his head outta his ass and chill the fuck out and come drink expired apple juice with him.

i did not mean for their relationship to be that serious. i did not mean for either character to be that serious!!!! the way these two have wormed my way into my heart is so fascinating... they literally are getting straight-man married. they keep track of each other's mental health and make sure the other one is eating and showering and sleeping. they get knocked outta their zourds and lay completely still for hours together. machwell starts to feel safe enough to go places with bartenn, and then safe enough to go places by himself. and bartenn has a companion again, someone would could never replace his late wife Lindsey, but Machwell doesn't need to- he makes Bartenn laugh, and gives Bartenn the reason to make jokes again.

i think they're a very good testament of how scarily sentient characters get to me! i really care about both of their journeys and how they found each other and are just,,,friends. just good, genuine friends, and i could roll around forever and think about how these two fucked up little men became friends and helped each other get out of their spirals just by being a buddy :]

MAGIC AND RUSE

YAY!!!! I LOVE GIRLS!!!!!

1. what were A's first impressions of B? were they mostly correct or have they changed? Magic's POV This is such a fun question to answer after just drawing their first meeting out, finally!! i've had that scene in my head for years....Magic's first impressions of Ruse were, oh geez well my head just got chopped off, but really Magic is quite used to that (her limbs are quite detachable! it doesn't hurt, she swears) and she was mostly concerned if Ruse was okay after fainting. She felt bad for startling her!! clearly, this girl was living on a hair-trigger...Magic wanted to make sure Magic herself wasn't too scary, though. She did feel a little self-conscious about causing such a fuss....

her POV has certainly changed- she knows now why Ruse was so scared, but they're definitely over that now. the story of their first meeting is a funny story Magic likes to tell while Ruse hides her face in (normal levels of) embarrassment. Magic knows Ruse is a big softie and gentle giant, who doesn't ever want to hurt anyone ever. She just wants to eat chicken wraps and go shopping and sing badly to her favorite songs as she sits pretty in Magic's passenger seat.

6. what does A think B thinks of them? or, if asked to describe their relationship, how would they do it? are they right? Ruse's POV

Ruse would hum and haw....emotions and perceptions are not her strong suit. but she'd shyly say that Magic really likes her. before their relationship is confirmed, Ruse is generally confused about Magic's feelings, but she can pick up on the fact that Magic always sticks up for her and takes her fun places and always jumps for a chance to hang out. they can spend a long time doing nothing together- their hangouts can easily span 9, 10, 11 hours, much longer than either of their social batteries. they spend their time recharging together, doing errands together....Ruse doesn't know how to explain things on the terms of internal feelings. she loves spending time with Magic, and she's pretty sure Magic does too.....right? she's right!!

8. is there anything they really disagree on? what are they most likely to argue about?

The most major thing these two disagree on is their variation in threshold, basically. they're both autistic/have a range of mental illnesses, from Magic's extreme sensory differences to Ruse's C-PTSD. And sometimes, things overlap and they clash. Ruse is very sensory-seeking, while Magic is not. Magic needs a lot of quiet time with minimal noises, and Ruse loves loud music and big crowds. Magic can handle going out for an hour or two, while Ruse wants to be at events from start to finish. sometimes they miss what the other wants, and they both get frustrated. Especially since both of them lack a lot of understanding in emotion/ conveying how they actually feel.

they're trying to find the perfect happy medium! Ruse learns to understand that Magic doesn't want to go to every loud party that she does- and Magic understands that Ruse can't stay at home parallel-playing all day. Magic likes to go to events for limited hours, and with aids like her headphones and sensory happy objects, and Ruse will happily wait for her. And if Ruse needs a day of distraction or loudness to block out the cluster of teeming slush in her brain, they'll cafe-hop or take part in outdoor activities. they do their best to make it work !

sometimes it doesn't always work out, and they are just truly incompatible in a way that neither of them will be happy. sometimes you just really wanna spend time with your bestgirlfriend, but she wants to do something that you Cannot Do- sure, they get ticked off. but they ultimately care about the happiness of the other, while preserving themselves.

and then youre gonna hit with Ruse and ESPERANZA. geezus...../posi thank you thank you thank you for bringing them up. they fuel me. they mean everything 2 me

RUSE AND ESPERANZA

13. if A needed help, how likely would they be to ask B for it? Ruse's POV ah! she would! not! Ruse is so terrible for asking for help, especially in her current situation. This Ruse we're talking about is not healing, chicken wrap eating Ruse, this is Ruse in the middle of an active coup. She firmly believes she is in this situation because she signed up for it. She does share her grievances with Esperanza, but that is different in her mind than asking for help. And even when Esperanza offers help, unrelated- she cannot take it.

15. what's A's absolute favorite (or least favorite) thing about B? Esperanza's POV

Esperanza's favorite thing about Ruse is her humor! And yes...Ruse is not TRYING to be funny, but Esperanza just loves how dry she is, how funny she is without trying...how earnest and genuine Ruse is, without needing to put on a face. Esperanza really admires that.

for what Esperanza dislikes the most, probably when Ruse's dryness turns to stubbornness, and then cost-sunk fallacy pride. She wishes she could knock Ruse outta her brain sometimes- she knows she can't.

7. are there any habits, mannerisms, practices etc. A does because of B? anything they do because they saw B doing it, or got advice from them about it, or something rubbed off on them? Esperanza's POV

Yes.....yes. quite a few. Esperanza is only just recently living in a physical body again (long story) and for a while, the only person she knew before she regained her memories was Ruse. Esperanza picked up lots of her little quirks to relearn how to exist.

One of the major ones is playing with her tail, Esperanza has never had a tail before, but she's seen how Ruse used it with her body language! So Esperanza tries her best to mirror those mannerisms. she wants to feel comfortable in her new shape and have others feel comfortable around her!

RUNO AND PEONY !!!! MY PARENTS

2. if asked to describe B to a stranger, what would A say? are they mostly truthful, or is there anything they omit? Runo's POV

I think he'd try to keep it on the lowdown best he can but he's such a wifeguy. he's weepy sobby over his wife and keeps hyping her up, did you know she's trying to publish a book she's so talented and such a good writer and so intelligent and eloquent and .....!!! i'm pretending he's not deathly shy in this situations, but honestly if Peony was brought up, he'd be gushing all about her.......man who loves a woman. augh

how does A refer to B (first name/last name/pet name/title/etc) in their head, to them directly, and to others? are they different? why? Peony's POV

This is a pretty simple answer, but to herself and to Runo, she calls him...Runo. To their kids, it's Dad. To strangers, she uses Brunowe, at Runo's request. To friends, it's whatever name they know him by (usually Runo) that's it! I mean she's got pet names but she doesn't throw those around too often, nor does she think in them!

she knows Runo is most comfy with Runo, but he's also really embarrassed to give people his nickname, hence the "this is my husband, Brunowe!" and if he ends up giving that person his nickname, that's his choice!

9. what do outsiders think their relationship is? do they consciously or unconsciously act different around others?

also kinda simple, but to others they're mostly like...aww a normal married couple. aw look, its Sunny/Indigo's parents. They just seem sweet, quiet, and in love. which they are usually anyway!

SPIRO AND TAI UAUUUGUUGUHGHHGHGHHH!!!!!!!!! CMON FISH!!!!!! I LOVE THESE GUYS........... NO ONE UNDERSTANDS /LH

2. if asked to describe B to a stranger, what would A say? are they mostly truthful, or is there anything they omit? Spiro's POV augh he's a husbandguy too. he'd be saying some real embarrassing shit he knows Tai would turn into a tomato to hear, and because it's Spiro, i can't guarantee it's PG. but yeah he's bringing up the opioid story. he's making dramatic hand motions. he's pulling out all the sickly sweet nicknames he knows Tai hates.

11. what's something A knows about B that most people don't? alternately, what's something most people believe about B that A doesn't? Tai's POV well....take everything I just said about Spiro's mannerisms above. most people see him as this really confident, semi-famous guy who is known for being very quick socially but also really weird.

what most people don't know (basically the only people being Tai, their daughter, and Star) is that Spiro is still handling a lot of things really poorly. he has bad coping mechanisms and he's scared shitless to leave his house alone, even for simple things like getting the mail. he's tethered to his house and even going in public with a safe person is too overwhelming, and Spiro tries to keep things light with a smile despite how terrified he is. ALL. THE. TIME.

everyone thinks he's completely over The Incident; this couldn't be further from the truth. i don't think there's an expiration date on trauma, but you know how Society is :(

only Tai is really deeply privy to how deep this goes, and he wouldn't share it with a soul unless Spiro was seriously in danger.

yay!

[lastweeksshirttonight]

I've listened to this almost four times at this point, so I better write some thoughts on it. (Did you need them? Probably not but humor me.)

This whole podcast talks deeply about the emotional toll of COVID and the pandemic, so be advised.

Interview starts at 16:10.

To start, I think a thread that runs through this entire episode is Marc being more cynical or bitter than John about a point, and John pausing to realign himself with what his actual level of cynicism is. You can tell that Marc and John like each other a lot, but there is also a tension to some of their discussions that I find really interesting. Like a mental chess match where Marc has a clear POV and John is trying to subtly spin the response to be closer to his own ideals.

The interview opens with the two of them talking about microphone levels and people not being closer to the mic and how irritating it is when people don't know how to use microphones. I am weak to John talking

I haven't watched Rachel Maddow in a while, is she really doing radio shows about Spiro Agnew? What? Why?

John speaking about context and contextualizing our current dark reality. The way he viewed the pandemic and the extent of society's flaws, and how nothing was fixed was really interesting. For as much as he's said that he's allergic to sincerity, that's just plainly untrue. He really does want to believe in the best of everything around him - he later talks about how he loves his children so much it's painful, and I had the same thought. Marc's darkness is something else though, I would laugh helplessly too at being reminded that 30% of the country wants to kill me specifically (help)

"It will eat your messages and shit them back into your face." I truly enjoy when John goes this blue, it always surprises and delights me.

John wants everything to have a system. He really likes the John Wick coin-based hotel system. I don't quite know how the two of them got from the comfort conspiracy theories can provide in dark times to John Wick but hey.

Marc being mad about having no awards and John being like "you really didn't need to say your bitterness out loud bro" killed me.

John has no idea why LWT was moved into another category. He doesn't even know who he's competing against. The Emmys basically afford him the right to be left alone with his show. I think he values that more than anything in regards to LWT - this topic comes up multiple times in this podcast and John stresses that having no sponsors to be beholden to, no commercials, and seemingly little to no oversight makes them able to do things that just can't be done on commercial television. There are more details to mine about this later, but it seems like, for all the absolute chaos of HBO and Warner and Discovery (something John likens to continually having new fathers around and wondering if he even has to bother learning their names), he's still relatively free to plug away at LWT the way he and his team envision it. Which is a relief to hear, honestly, the delayed announcement of LWT being renewed really made me concerned that Discovery in particular was done dealing with him.

I like how John, when given questions, will often ask clarifying follow-ups in this. He's not one for vagueness as it seems - the one that particularly stuck out to me was Marc relaying how he struggles with pulling his thoughts together on current events, using the Gaza crisis as an example for him before asking how John settles on topics. John's response is to ask if Marc means in general, or om Gaza specifically. The conversation moves into the general and how LWT is made now that it's ten years in (John calls the research department a machine and I can tell Marc is hoping that John literally invented a research machine from his tone of voice), but those are two very different conversations that could be pulled from that one question.

I also love John and Marc taking the piss out of John's show. Truly, if John leaves his desk, you obviously just sat through 30 minutes of the worst human misery possible.

-

Marc: "Because of your innate Britishness and your sense of humor, that... you do irritate -"

John, sounding like something just activated in his brain and as darkly as I've ever heard him: "I love to."

Marc: " - the right - ???"

-

My new favorite running theme in John's interviews is his apparently very tense relationship with his lawyers. The nitty gritty of the legal needs of the show, and how John views his lawyers and the frustrations that come with trying to do hard-hitting topics while having lawyers drop out from conflicts of interest, always fascinates me.

John also delves into the security he requires because of the breadth of people he's pissed off. He doesn't seem to care at all and enjoys pissing these people off, despite his wife's concerns. (I'm so sorry Kate you married a deeply weird man) John derives such pleasure from irritating people that it outweighs, say, never being able to go to Thailand without being arrested.

I cannot believe the Sacklers tried to come to the LWT office. Jesus Christ the entitled gall of these people.

Marc offends John with his assessment of England having many destroyed buildings, which leads into him saying, in a way reminiscent of the long-lost American from the Bugle, that he "enjoys the castles". God I miss the American. "How old's this wall? Holy fuck!"

-

Marc: "What are we gonna do about the futility..."

John: -cracks the fuck up-

Marc, finding his point: "...of..."

John: "Let it hang. Feel free to let that hang in the air. Let's just all enjoy the fact that we're all filling it in and coming up with different, equally valid, depressing ends to that sentence."

-

John is so severely offended and killed by Marc's suggestion that he did a Q&A tour. The absolute lowest form of entertainment in both of their minds. John mentions that he emphatically told people they could leave before the Q&A they hosted at the John and Seth stand up show I was at because he feels so strongly about this. I wrongly assumed this was because John hates himself and can't imagine people sticking around for him, but in my defense, that's usually the reason he tells people not to do something/shits on his bangs/etc.

(We still have like 30 min of this podcast, why am I like this)

The question of "what's gonna happen" is a pretty dark one, as John notes. He fears the worst but hopes people will work hard to stop the path we're on. Marc wanting to illustrate where we are is pretty ridiculous, as John points out - just look around.

I think Marc talking about what "all right" means to people gets to something that deeply concerns me about what the future of this country will be for me. I don't want to be that cynical but there is a deep well of selfishness in the US (rightfully identified) that does keep the country from uniting and fighting for survival in times like this. We're definitely at that turning point and I really want to hope we don't drive off the cliff.

I am not really emotionally prepared for jokes about John being in prison, I was genuinely a bit concerned about that The Last Time. That's my own problem though.

I didn't expect to get more information about John leaving The Daily Show on this podcast, but that's one of the most interesting things discussed. Marc asks if John left TDS because he felt the freedom he has with HBO wasn't there, and John says that wasn't the case - his contract expired at the end of 2013, after his summer hosting gig. Ideally, and Jon and John had discussed this (!!), the goal was to have John do TDS in the summers so John could, you know, rest. Sleep. Not be beholden to the horrors all the time. But Comedy Central, in John's blunt words, "didn't really care", so he went to HBO. The way that John mentions that "they would have probably kept [Jon] longer" if they'd actually tried to keep John around sounds just a tinge bitter and honestly, yeah. I'm annoyed hearing that we could have had this magical 2-host version of TDS and CC just... sucks. God I hate them. They gave me most of my worldview as a teenager because of TDS, but fucking A man.

Also interesting to hear, however vaguely, that John had some other offers. Wonder what those were. My best guess, based on what else was going on at that time, is TBS (who later made Full Frontal with Samantha Bee and were building around Conan) might have made a play.

I'm not a parent, but I do appreciate the discussion of parenthood, particularly how anxiety-inducing it can be. Hearing John talk about his worries regarding his prematurely-born son definitely resonated, and I'm glad his son is doing well now. ❤️

The brick joke in the middle of the parenting discussion is the hardest I've ever laughed at Marc Maron. Truly. Masterful brick joke.

I don't have an elegant tag for this - there's much more than what I touched on here in the podcast, and I appreciate how deep the conversation gets. It was really nice to listen to this multiple times during my hell day, and to hear John talk deeper about things that he's rarely asked about.

Also I'm sorry I wrote like fucking too many k words on this, I clearly had thoughts

[sun-in-retrograde]

A star is about to explode

The Blaze Star is about to go nova in the Northern Crown. For a day, this faint star will become as bright as the North Star. In the past, a new star appearing in the sky was a major omen and people would pay close attention to it, but people rarely understood that it could be a recurrent phenomenon.

Recurrent nova explosions basically happen when a star experiences a large explosion that is nonetheless not big enough to destroy it. In the case of the Blaze Star what happens is that a small white dwarf is orbiting close to a much bigger red giant star. The red dwarf has an “accretion disk” of chemicals around it and as the Blaze Star travels through it it takes in more and more glasses until this reaches critical mass and explodes. Then, for a day, the star becomes 1500 times brighter than it usually is. We know of ten recurrent novae but the Blazing Star has one of the longest known periods between recurrences - about 80 years.

The Blaze Star, also known as T Coronae Borealis (or T Crb) is currently at 18°22 Scorpio and it’s moving slowly through the Scorpio. The last time it lit up was 9 February 1946 when it was at 17°16, then before that it was at 16°10 on 12 May 1866. There’s also two documents that discuss the nova before it was properly discovered. It was observed in around 1787/8 and a medieval manuscript mentions the nova in mid Autumn of 1217 when it was at around 7°04. The Ursperger Chronicle reports it like this:

"In the autumn season of the same year, in the early evening, a wonderful sign was seen in a certain star in the west. This star was located a little west of south, in what astrologers call Ariadne's Crown. As we ourselves observed, it was originally a faint star that for a time shone with great light, and then returned to its original faintness. There was also a very bright ray reaching up the sky, like a large tall beam. This was seen for many days that autumn. The preachers also in these times asserted that many other signs had taken place in heaven and on Earth, which it would be too long to enumerate and to add to this brief account."

I share the full text here because I think as astrologers what it shows us is that ancient astrologers took events like novae seriously and if we are seriously making a case for following in their footsteps we need to do the same. But also, they didn’t understand what they were looking at. We are aware of ten recurrent novae in this galaxy and we didn’t have evidence of this phenomenon at all until the 1900s. Most people who saw a recurrent nova before that thought it was a possibly miraculous one off event. I am 100% expecting to find ancient mesopotamian, Chinese, or Indian records that show that someone somewhere noted a recurrence in ancient times. The ancients were so often able to see more and connect more than we give them credit for. But I’ve not yet seen any evidence of this. For now, we have to assume that the recurrence of nova explosions is something nobody understood until modern times.

The Northern Crown

The Coronae Borealis constellation is named after the garland Venus gave to Ariadne when she married Dionysus. It therefore traditionally has some Venus-Mercury themes. In some cases this seems to play out with a connection between the nova event and children. For instance Spiro Agnew had his Sun conjunct the Blazing Star and his wife’s pregnancy at the time of the novae encouraged him to go back to law school. 

In some cases it can also relate to adult experiences of children and succession - for instance the month of the nova architect Frank Lloyd Wright’s son sent him a copy of his book about their relationship. It had the very Saturnian title: My Father Who Is On Earth. Frank was not happy and wrote notes throughout the book, his son responded to his comments. The book was published with the full disagreement available for everyone to read. This is all very Saturn-Venus to me - succession, children, creation, difficulty, and legacy all wrapped up in one story.

Passing the Torch from Conflict to Conflict

The most notable event at the last nova was the Soviet prosecutor giving his opening statement at the Nuremberg trials. A couple of Nazis had key signs on those strongly conjunct the Blazing Star - Wilhelm Frick (the architect of Germany’s anti-Jewish laws) and Alfred Rosenberg (the administrator in charge of occupied Russia). Oddly Frick was one of only two Nazis to refuse to testify in his own defense, and Rosenberg was the only Nazi executed following his trial who refused to give a last statement before being hanged. I don’t know what this is about but Hess, the other Nazi who refused to testify had the Blazing Star strongly trine is ascendent. Maybe the influence of the Blazing Star encouraged them to let their lives end with the mercy that we didn’t have to hear them whine about it. Because honestly, nothing of value was lost when the leaders of the WW2 Nazi Party were executed. 

Passing the torch from one conflict to another seems kind of key to this nova. On the day of the nova Stalin gave his first major post war speech and said that another war was inevitable because of the "capitalist development of the world economy", and that the USSR would need to concentrate on national defense in advance of a war with the Western nations. This is considered by some to be the start of the Cold War. Meanwhile in Britain, Jewish ex-servicemen beat up a group of fascists who were trying to rebuild their movement - this was both a reflection on the war that had just gone and inspired the formation of the 43 group of anti-fascists which was an essential part of the post war anti-fascist movement. One conflict ends, but immediately, another one starts.

What I’m looking out for

We can expect the nova in the next six months so I’m keeping my eye out for conflicts that are ending and sparking an immediate new conflict. The change over from Israel invading Gaza to a more sustained occupation as part of their ongoing genocide against the Palestinians strikes me as a key one to watch for. The Blazing Star is loosely conjunct Ukraine’s MC and Pluto and its at a sensitive part of various Russian natal charts so this is a conflict to watch when the Blazing Star goes up.

Prince Harry is a key celebrity in this - he has the Blazing Star conjunct his MC and it’s interesting that we’re currently in a period where for the first time ever the British press has more complaints about Prince William’s wife than Meghan Markle. The monarchy is less of a joke than we make it out to be sometimes - the ongoing conflict between the Windsor siblings and their wives demonstrates major faultlines in British society on issues like how tolerant we are of secrecy within the executive arm of government, and how a lot of people understand race and racism. A shift in this conversation could be important. 

Of course, with the conception connection some of the most important events of the transit might not become apparent right away. It could be conception, or women finding out they’re pregnant, or starting to tell people. The key thing seems to be how the arrival of a child impacts the parent and this is a really personal thing we might not be aware of unless this hits your personal chart at the right time in the right way.

In general, I’ll simply be watching out for a new star in the sky. Astrology isn’t just about fortune telling, it’s about forming a personal connection to the universe and watching an event like this is one way to do that. I also think astrology is about forming a link to the past. We do this by following the cycles of planets, or in this case, stellar explosions. We also do this by understanding our ancestors who also tried to understand the stars. We have an opportunity to understand the cyclical nature of an event that most past astrologers could only understand as miraculous. I think that’s really beautiful.

Underneath, for the nerds, I have the charts for the three known nova explosions so far:

[greek-orthodox-priest]

Dear Father, textures are so bad. what do?

father spiros says: used steamcmd to download and install source server content.

[mightyflamethrower]

Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves.” – William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

“They had learned nothing and forgotten nothing.” – Often attributed to Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand

The Democratic election postmortem immediately descended into public blame-gaming—as expected. When Joe Biden was forced off the ticket in late July, the conspirators issued a party line that he was to be praised as a veritable George Washington—in the spirit of Washington’s farewell address of 1796 about why it was a good thing for the first president not to run for a third term.

So, we were lied to that Joe, the sitting President of the United States, was not forced out by Nancy Pelosi, the Obamas, George Clooney and the celebs, and the billionaire class. We instead were lectured that Biden, magnanimously as the neo-father of our country, selflessly bowed out to ensure Kamala Harris’s elevation as the nominee and, with it, a sure Democratic victory.

But now? After the Democratic train wreck, half the party is suddenly damning George Washington Joe for sticking around too long, even though party grandees cooked up the scheme in the first place of nominating the cognitively challenged Biden in 2020 to shut out his radical (and supposedly unelectable) primary rivals.

Now that his successor Harris has bombed, in the leftist mind, Joe has gone from a Washingtonian Olympian to a veritable selfish Richard Nixon who clung to office far too long and supposedly ensured his party’s defeat.

Yet still, others now blame incumbent Vice President Kamala herself. The once “joyful” candidate, after the coup to remove Biden, was once praised to the skies as a “turn the page”/”move forward”/“change” candidate—only then to be damned as an insipid loser.

So, one postelection narrative was that Harris—we were told to recall—was always known as inept and thus originally picked as Joe Biden’s Spiro Agnew insurance policy, who would prevent his indictment, impeachment, or medical removal.

But never mind blaming either Biden or Harris or both. The left cannot fault either a lack of funds; they raised a billion dollars more than Trump. Leftists also cannot complain about 95 percent favorable media coverage, supposedly worth billions of dollars in free advertising.

They cannot regret that they did not do everything imaginable to destroy the Trump monster—given they had impeached him twice and tried him as a private citizen. They cooked up the Russian collusion and laptop disinformation hoaxes, raided his home with a SWAT team, and unleashed five criminal and civil suits designed to bankrupt, demonize, and jail him. They tried to remove him from at least 16 state ballots and daily smeared him as a fascist, dictator, and Hitler—even as two would-be assassins tried to shoot him.

So, we are witnessing the rich Democrat-media fusion blame and fault everything but themselves. In truth, whether Biden or Harris ran—it never really mattered.

Even an open convention with a “moderate” veneer nominee like a Josh Shapiro would not have saved them. The fault was in themselves: a radical Democratic agenda actualized by Joe Biden, who will leave office with an approval rate under 40 percent, and two-thirds of the country believing the country was headed in the wrong direction under his tenure.

So, what lost the election for the Democrats? Both substance and style.

The proverbial people may have agreed that Trump was sometimes crude, but they knew in his prior four-year tenure that food, gas, rent, power, and insurance were affordable. The border was finally secured. Trump did not welcome in 12 million unaudited illegal aliens. Nor did he oversee a disastrous flight from Afghanistan or watch two theater-wide wars blow up Ukraine and the Middle East as a derelict America became irrelevant.

Boys did not spike volleyballs down upon the heads of girls nor did male boxers pound the brains of women.

Nor did teenage biological males shower with young girls.

Nor did the Trump tenure witness institutionalized anti-Semitism spreading throughout the nation’s elite campuses and onto the streets. Nor did Republican party grandees obsess on race, promote reparations, demand unlimited abortions until the moment of birth, or trash fracking.

So, the message—not just the messengers—was toxic. But that said, the message was also delivered by a bicoastal elite, exuding hubris and superciliousness. This election, the left committed the two cardinal sins of American politics: one, never talk down to the American people as too stupid to appreciate the wisdom of their supposed elite betters; and two, never abandon the upwardly mobile aspirations and real struggles of the middle class.

Instead, during the campaign and after the election slaughter, Democratic grandees screamed against a supposedly racist, sexist, homophobic, nativist electorate—as if these critics were a mummified Hillary Clinton circa 2016 still pontificating about the deplorables and irredeemables or a calcified Obama lecturing on the pathologies of the clingers.

Indeed, the epitome of such hypocrisy was the late entrance of the now-plutocratic Obamas. The pair variously private jetted in from one of their four mansions to “save” Harris from her incompetent self by diagnosing the skeptics of her hard-left message as ignorant, illiberal, and suffering from Marxist false consciousness.

Thus, a week after the election, Democrats are still trapped in La La Land.

Blue-state governors now posture and brag that they will stop the newly elected Trump—but from what exactly? Will they refuse his tainted federal funds? Spit at him when they ask for disaster relief help? Declare blue America “sanctuary states” that will nullify federal law and not pay federal taxes?

What does California governor Gavin Newsom mean by calling to session the California legislature to “resist” Trump? Will he order another Steele dossier pee-pee tape? Another Hillary Clinton 2016 call to join La Résistance?

What does Illinois Governor Pritzker mean by warning Trump he will have to go through the ample governor to get to “his people?”

Coordinate more local and state prosecutors to resume where Fani Willis, Alvin Bragg, and Letitia James left off?

Mimic Madonna and threaten to blow up the White House?

Emulate Kamala Harris and warn weeks of violent protests that won’t and should not stop?

So how exactly is the elected president actually stripping away the rights of their liberal residents—three months before he even sets foot in office? And what might such illiberal or extralegal Trump efforts entail?

Find another Andrew McCabe to weaponize the FBI to go after his enemies?

Discover another Anthony Fauci to stealthily send American cash to a leaky Chinese virology lab run by the People’s Liberation Army?

Draft another Lois Lerner to politicize the IRS to deny left-wing groups nonprofit status?

Rehire James Comey to get the FBI and social media together to censor the news?

Maybe rehire Loretta Lynch or Merrick Garland to sic the Department of Justice on political enemies at school board meetings?

Bring back Confederate-style nullification of federal law and open the border?

Or are Trump’s threats likely to be more existential and cosmic—like packing the court to ensure another six conservative justices?

Or, as the right takes control of the Senate, will the damnable new conservative majority abolish the ancient filibuster?

Perhaps the left is worried that now that a vengeful Trump has handily won the popular vote, he will most likely remove the 237-year-old Electoral College by sidestepping the constitutional amendment process?

Or will a dastardly Trump bifurcate some blue states to ensure their red halves become two new states and with them four conservative senators?

In sum, the left will not recover by blaming the American people and the voters for their loss. Nor will they regain power by caricaturing the supposedly illiberal and unappreciative middle class.

Nor will they reboot by blustering that they are at war with a president before he takes office as if he was not just elected by a clear majority and an overwhelming electoral college vote.

Nor will they find salvation today by blaming the “messaging,” or tomorrow Kamala Harris, or next week Joe Biden—rather than looking in the mirror and acknowledging the fault, Dear Democrats, is “in ourselves.”

[starlightandetherealshadows]

i have a dilemma (author ramble) ༯

Hi lovebugs,

I was up late last night making notes and continuing to develop each character in contra spem spiro, when I came across an ~issue~.

I started the IF with the intention that every type of MC will be able to romance the ROs. Then, I started actually writing them and figuring out their backstories, their wants and what makes them tick. And I realize that not all of the romance options would be..well..attracted to every type of MC. Some clash in an unsexy way.

I was figuring out dynamics with various ROs and some weren't gelling. I was trying to write my way through molasses.

Namely, Veronica/Vincent with sunshiny MC's, and Cecelia/Chase with stoic, abrasive MC's. They just wouldn't like them (romantically at least, friendships are different) or find them attractive personality-wise. It's nothing personal, but we all have different "types" and people we get along with better than others.

I was making a likes and dislikes list for Veronica/Vincent, and they don't like people that are: needy, always need to be protected or saved, reckless, overly happy and optimistic. For V to like someone, they have to respect them. (I'm a pretty bright, sunshiny person myself, so trust i was devastated when I realized that V would not like me omg they strict af)

For Cecelia/Chase, a stoic, cold MC reminds them of their father. And that is a can of worms they aren't enthusiastic to open. They have a lot of angst regarding their father and so they want a partner that makes them feel loved and will say it to them. C, once they realize their feelings, wears their heart on their sleeve and wants their partners to do the same.

My dilemma is that I want to stay true to my characters and writing a story that makes ME happy. But I don't want to disappoint people. At the end of the day, I'm the one who has to write out all these scenes. If I don't like what I'm writing, if it doesn't feel right for me, i'll be less inclined to keep writing. If something isn't working, then it isn't working.

Which means I have a few options.

The first is to stat-check/personality lock Cecelia/Chase and the V/Z/MC Poly.

The second is to adjust MC's personality so their core personality is set and the readers can tweak their reactions/personality up to a point.

I'd rather have people be able to choose MC's personality and have ~consequences~ for that than have them play a pre-determined MC.

I don't know, I just want my characters to feel like real people, not just ~romance options~ that will like the MC no matter what.

So I will think more on it.

Thank you again to everyone who sent in asks! I've been having a blast responding to them and chatting with y'all!!! ₊˚⊹♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

All my love,

Cheye

[bloodyspade0000]

Dum Spiro, Spero Part 1– The start of it all

Summary: When I breath, I hope...

...

After being killed by his father, Haizaki gets regenerated into a strange new world where his father didn't exist and where he had to learn to use the new powers that had been bestowed upon him—flames that flickered and spewed underneath his skin and glowed purple whenever he let them out—and had to adapt to a new beginning with his previous memories still intact.

A/N: I posted this on ao3 but I decided it be great to post this here as well. So enjoy :3

.....

After the winter cup, Haizaki's father forced Haizaki into the yakuza as punishment for his delinquency and used Haizaki as a pawn to do his dirty work so he didn't need to stain his own hands. 

He had no qualms about exploiting his son, whether it meant gaining more power, keeping people in line, or getting rid of those who defied him. 

And…

It had gone on for years.

Until…

Haizaki's father no longer found him useful and killed him. 

…

Haizaki was reborn into a strange new world where his father didn't exist and where he had to learn to use the new powers that had been bestowed upon him—flames that flickered and spewed underneath his skin and glowed purple whenever he let them out—and had to adapt to a new beginning with his previous memories still intact while adjusting to growing up again. 

In this world, the criminal underworld was ruled by a mafia Famiglia called Vongola that had influence worldwide, and Haizaki had been generously picked off the streets by Vongola Nono's cloud guardian, Visconti, who raised Haizaki as his own and trained Haizaki to utilize his cloud flames while teaching Haizaki Italian. And once Haizaki was old enough, Visconti enrolled him into mafia school. 

Haizaki was a quick learner and picked up everything faster than one normally would, as he trained his hardest. 

His goal in this world was to live the normal, peaceful life he had so desperately wanted in his world, which his father had ruined.

But…

Haizaki found that would be impossible in this world, too, when his eyes met the blazing red ones belonging to Xanxus—Timoteo's youngest son and Varia's ruthless leader—at a party, and Haizaki found himself instantly drawn to him like a moth to a burning flame. 

Xanxus was a powerful sky, and Haizaki was memorized by that power. 

He craved it. He carved Xanxus. 

Haizaki wanted—needed Xanxus as his sky. It ached and scorched his insides, blazing through him like an inferno. 

So, he sought out Xanxus. 

Because…

No matter what world it was, Haizaki always took what he wanted. 

…

Teeth scarped and nipped at his skin, leaving behind marks of sizzling desire that set his heart ablaze as wrath flames tangled and sank into the cloud flames. He had awoken at rebirth and mastered it.

Rough, calloused hands gripped Haizaki's hips, and Haizaki felt the familiar stretch and burn of being penetrated by a cock.

He hadn't felt it in a long time and had ached for it.

He had ached for the sensation of being filled that had kept him grounded in his world and kept him sane under his father's scrutiny and control.

Heat curled down Haizaki's spine as moans escaped his quivering lips, igniting their shared pleasure as a bond clicked into place.

They both knew what it meant. They were tied together now—bounded by a bond that would never break.

And...

It was terrifying to be owned by another person. Especially one Haizaki had only heard of through rumours whispered and spread and someone he had just met. (Though Haizaki knew it was the same for Xanxus.)

However, Haizaki didn't dwell on it any further. He was more focused on being claimed by a raging beast as he was thrust into it ruthlessly, forcing more moans out of him that mixed with the sounds of Xanxus'.

The last thought Haizaki had before being completely swept away was that he was glad he now lived in a world where he didn't have to deal with his father.

…

"Your name, scum," Xanxus spoke as he lay on Haizaki's chest. He was both satisfied and sated with how things turned out.

Xanxus now had a full set and a powerful cloud on his side.

This changed things…

"Haizaki Shougo," Haizaki responded, his lips twitching upwards into a smug smirk. "I'm sure, ya must've heard of me."

"I have, trash," Xanxus told him, glancing at Haizaki with amusement flickering in his eyes. "You're the stray Visconti took in."

"Yeah." Haizaki flipped Xanxus over onto his back and crawled on top of him.

Xanxus pulled Haizaki down with an arm and devoured his lips like he had done at the start of this.

Xanxus moaned against Haizaki's lips as Haizaki sank onto his cock, and his grip on Haizaki's hips returned.

…

This was only the beginning…

...

Read the rest on ao3

My ao3

My ask box is always open for requests or fanon discussions!

[fowlblue]

Choose violence asks!

8, 18, 20, 21?

Ooo yes, lemme think-

8. Common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about-

I’ll list two, because they’re similar- buckle up, this will be a little long.

1: The JEAN SCENE from TAC holy cow. Ya’ll. Angeline wasn’t trying to ‘change him’ she was reaching out because she has very good reason to be concerned about his well-being at the time. Artemis had been expressing all sorts of concerning behaviors, don’t you dare tell me Angeline Fowl, having went through what she did while Tim was missing, would not recognize them for the red flags they were. Could she have phrased it better? Yes. But it clearly wasn’t meant to be read as ‘she wants to make him a normal child’ it’s meant to be read as ‘the exact same situation as when your grandma buys you clothes you don’t really like and you have to pretend you’ll wear them’. It is not that deep.

(Also, like… if you want to read into it, Artemis only started wearing suits after his father’s ‘death’ when he had to take on the role of adult in the family. More likely than not, Angeline assumed that him continuing to do so might have been him being unable to ‘let go’ of that period in his life, as opposed to simple preference).

2. This is really a rant for another post, but the idea that Angeline and Tim shouldn’t have been concerned at all about their children and the fairies, and should have willingly let them run off on adventures with them, rule-and-supervision-free? Like… that would be bad parenting!

Let me phrase it like this- if my 12-14 year old child (or children!) were running off with strange adults, off to other countries or even fantastical worlds, and the only supervision they had was someone who has been raised to obey their orders with little question… that would be bad! We as the audience have the benefit of knowing Holly and Co. are friendly, but Angeline and Tim do not, and aren’t given much reason to think so in-series. It’s like a much more extreme version of your pre-teen running off to go hang out with the high-school students known for causing trouble, it’s a bad idea. What happened in DAC was bad, don’t get me wrong, and far too extreme, but they weren’t entirely incorrect in wanting to limit and monitor their children’s interactions with fairykind, especially when fairykind is blatantly hostile to humans.

18. It’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on-

Uncle Foxy. Fowl Senior’s time in Russia. Butler in general beyond ‘Artemis’s real dad’ (he is more than that, why not love him for HIM). The potential fun of Tim and Butler being buddies. Jon Spiro, my beloved. Need I go on?

20. Part of canon you found tedious or boring

Hmm… probably the LEP/Haven parts? I like Holly’s POV and I love Foaly as a character but otherwise, most of the fairy society stuff kinda bores me?? It’s like… basic sci-fi tech society stuff, not really my thing.

21. Part of canon you think is overhyped.

I answered this here!

[lightofraye]

Rust Shooting Trial Summary

DAY TWO

It begins with Spiro cross-examining the crime scene tech. Spiro questioned the tech about the damage caused by the state’s forensic analysis of the gun.

The tech agreed that the gun could likely be fixed with replacement parts, it could not be restored to the condition it was on the day that Halyna was shot.

When evidence was collected on the Rust set, live rounds were found mixed with dummy bullets on the prop cart, in a munition box and in two gun holsters, one being Baldwin and one being Ackles’.

Spiro made a point that was agreed by the crime scene tech that the bullets looked similar and easily commingled. One bullet could have been mistaken for another.

Baldwin’s defense states the actor insisted that the firearm misfired when he cocked the gun, denying that he ever pulled the trigger. Prosecutors argue there is no evidence the gun misfired, but defense’s line of questioning appears to bolster their case that Baldwin simply did as he was instructed as an actor.

There was a motion during lunch break.

Defense showed photos of the “co-mingled” bullets, trying to make a case that to the untrained eye, it may be difficult to tell the difference. A bullet with a silver dot was identified as a live round, while those with gold or bronze dots were identified as dummies.

The judge approved the prosecution’s motion to include a phone call between Baldwin, his wife, and others at the police station after the shooting.

Prosecution believes that the call, in which Baldwin tells his family to still come and that they’d “have fun” contradicts defense’s claim of Baldwin’s state of mind. At the time of the phone call, Baldwin did not know that Halyna died, but aware she was severely injured.

Prosecutor argues: “And if the defense hasn't spent all of this time saying how, how, how panicked and upset he was, I'm not sure that it would be relevant, but he is actually planning basically a vacation.”

Defense tried to fight the motion by saying Baldwin’s demeanor was not relevant.

Judge disagreed, saying defense tried to argue the other day that Baldwin was upset, so it’s relevant how he behaved after the shooting.

The judge approved a small portion of a transcript that shows Baldwin’s statement regarding the danger of guns. The transcript includes a statement Baldwin made regarding the fact that “blanks can kill”. It shows Baldwin’s knowledge of how dummy bullets can be deadly.

More arguments before the judge.

More questions for the crime scene tech from defense. Defense pointed out about ammunition that was brought to the tech by a “good Samaritan” after the trail of the armorer.

The tech did not put the evidence with the rest of the Rust evidence, and Spiro accused her of suppressing evidence. She was also asked if she ever turned that evidence to the defense, to which she replied she does not turn any evidence to the defense (that’s prosecution’s job, geez).

Prosecutor redirected with the tech. They identified the person who turned over a box of munition after the armorer’s trial as a friend of the armorer’s father.

During redirect, prosecution confirmed the name of that person. They insinuated the man, a family friend of the armorer, had motivation to implicate the weapon supplier. The tech said she had no evidence the weapon supplier had anything to do with bringing live rounds to set. Upon being asked if there was evidence the armorer brought live rounds to the set, the tech answered “yes”.

The armorer’s attorney accused prosecution of “hiding the ball” after defense revealed in cross-examination that new evidence was brought to the state after her trial ended.

Alessandro Pietta, who manufactured reproductions of collectible firearms, has been called by the state. He made the gun used by Baldwin on the set of Rust. He noted it was made for a trade show in 2016 or 2017, and he was personally involved in producing the sample.

The company does its own checks for defects, go through quality control by the government of Italy.

Pietta testified that it’s not possible to fire the gun without exerting pressure and pulling the trigger.

"This gun cannot fire without pull of trigger because of the mechanics and design of trigger was made to work in this way," Pietta said.

In his testimony, the number of checks done by the Italian government body also include drop tests.

A sales rep for the company said he has not heard of that model of gun misfiring. He takes 5 to 6 phone calls a day since he started working with the company in 2018 and never received a call about that gun model shooting on its own.

The second day of the trial ended with Santa Fe County Sheriff's Cpl. Alexandra Hancock detailing the investigation into the shooting. She was testifying when the judge decided to end for the day.

This ended Day Two

Link: https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/live-blog/live-updates-day-2-alec-baldwins-rust-trial-rcna161360