#i will attempt to continue to reblog things as usual because i need every shred of normality i can consume

[seapasture]

i am going to sit down and draw the gentlest scene one can possibly imagine, or the pure visual manifestation of unabashed fury. there will be no in-between (unless)

[krisrix]

Saw a post about the "lack” of trauma in Wayward Son, especially in comparison to the representations of trauma in Carry On. Which seemed like a gross oversimplification of the many ways trauma can manifest and therefore came across to me as dismissive and gate-keeping, whether or not that was the intent.

There is no one correct way of experiencing, exhibiting, or depicting mental health/trauma. And these things shift within everyone all the time. The way a person’s trauma manifests at one point will not be how it always manifests. That’s part of the problem.

So, I thought I would offer some of my own thoughts about the ways we see Simon and Baz’s mental health issues and trauma played out in WS, especially in comparison to how we see it in CO.

This is NOT exhaustive. I am likely going to forget many things. But it’s something.

Simon:

Simon shows signs of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and rejection sensitivity dysphoria

These were all things he had in CO, but they were well-hidden thanks to his compartmentalization abilities and the fact that he was held together by pure stress and adrenaline at all times

Pretty much every single thing shown to us in CO is also shown to us in WS, though sometimes in more subtle ways - name it, it’s probably there

Now that he has his own space, his own rules, and no reason to fear for his life on a constant basis (no care homes, no attacks, no Big Bad, no roommate out to get him), he actually has SAFETY and COMFORT for the first time in his life - and he has no fucking clue what to do with it!

He crumples under the complete LACK of pressure - it was the only thing holding him together

He’s developed a drinking problem, neglected his hygiene, dropped out of school, and gained weight due to lack of maintaining his usual levels of self-care - this is not someone being “listless” - this is someone with mental health concerns on a level where intervention is needed

But rather than tackle this, Simon forces his brain to continue its attempts at compartmentalization, and he stops going to therapy

Except he can’t do that anymore, because Pandora’s box has been opened - AND, again, he has no external pressures keeping him going

He feels hopeless about his future and views himself as completely useless

His self-esteem is awful to the point where he is sabotaging his own health and relationship

He thinks he’s showing Baz “who is really is”, but he’s actually just discrediting himself entirely, showing us his self-destructive hero complex in a different way than in CO

He’s still reactive and loses control - he screams at Penny when she uses her magic on him, he’s itching for a fight, and he’s also channelled a lot of this into possessiveness

He still shows his black-and-white morality continuously throughout the book - not trusting the vampires, throwing his life on the line to save Agatha even though he knows it’s a trap, still quoting the Mage, etc

He only comes to life when he finally has a reason to be useful again

He kills vampires and possibly kills Terry - this is not surprising - he spent his entire childhood as a soldier, slashing things, blowing things up, etc - WS is showing us this side to him explicitly, whereas it was more glossed over in CO - but it was always there (he killed an excitable dog in CO, remember?)

He is disfigured - he cannot go out in public without depending on someone’s magic (which we already know from CO that he hates!) or covering up oddly in a trenchcoat

Even with those things, he can’t go confined places - like the Tube - or a public toilet!!!

Prior to Penny’s new spell, he had not been able to sit up straight properly for over a year - OVER A YEAR - he probably has chronic pain on top of the trauma of this

Baz:

Simon tells us he’s “blossoming” - that does not mean it’s necessarily true

Baz has thrown himself completely into his studies, and whenever he is not on campus, he is babysitting Simon

He is still coping with self-destructive martyrdom - he devotes all his time to Simon and does whatever he can to make Simon comfortable

One remnant of their history as enemies manifests in how Baz is terrified to set his boundaries in the relationship - he’s always on eggshells, he’s always counting himself lucky to be in Simon’s good graces at all, after everything

He watches everything he says around Simon - he’s terrified of giving Simon a reason to officially end things - the teaching-Simon-to-drive scene is a perfect example - it’s sweet and flirty and sexy, but also, Baz is SO careful about making sure Simon doesn’t get frustrated with him or the process

He still sees himself as unworthy of love - which is why he would rather have what little shreds of a relationship they still have left, than nothing at all

He is MISERABLE in America - he is starving and being burned alive and gets shot multiple times!! And he never once complains - that’s not admirable - that’s sad - that’s really fucking sad

He continues to put all of his dignity and pride into his external self, both visually and through his academic achievements, rather than into his mental and emotional well-being - perhaps even MORE than ever before, given how much he’s “blossomed” despite not going to therapy

These are high-functioning mental health issues - not a lack of them

He still hides his vulnerability and affections - he still never feels safe being himself - both as a vampire and as Simon’s boyfriend - coincidence? I think the fuck not

He likens Simon kissing him after the Ren Faire fight to when they shared magic, taking down the dragon - he thinks about how this time, he doesn’t need to pretend he’s not soaring inside - and then a few hours pass, and Simon pulls away from his kiss, and Baz has to go right back to hiding

He spent his entire childhood playing the villain, and now that he doesn’t have to anymore, we get to see that this is not who he was in the slightest

He’s the one appalled when Penny is doing illegal things - he’s the one always trying to talk them out of an altercation - he WANTS to be good but wasn’t allowed to before

He IS loyal - very loyal - and Simon uses this against him in subtle ways

He has no idea who he is - but we do get to see him try to find out, thankfully - it’s a matter of how much of this he is willing to accept and use as a catalyst for his own self-actualization - this is a journey he has only just begun - which should be celebrated, not seen as a dismissal of his struggles which came before

“You live in fear! In denial!” - pretty sure that says it all

There is so much more than this, but I am just so fucking tired.

Feel free to reblog, add your own thoughts, counter-points, etc. I love a good discussion. Just be respectful, ok? It’s not hard.

[heart-of-tempered-steel]

𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 // {fred weasley x ofc} preview

As soon as his gaze slid down from her slender shoulders to her neatly folded hands, he saw it.

Her hands, he mused, were small and delicate looking and usually when they were at rest when she sits, are folded neatly one atop of the other. Like bird wings.

Now, her hands were anything but resting. They were slightly fluttering.

As if something ruffled their feathers.

Summary: Fred starts to see through the cracks on the mask she wears and realizes that it wasn’t just a mask... but a full suit of armor as well.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Seri Waldren (OFC)

**Additional Note**: Face claim for Seri is Lee Ji Eun as Jang Man Wol

Warnings: Almost none except for a bit of slightly one-sided angst with a hint of enemies to friends to lovers as well as an ofc (but PLEASE give this a chance before scrolling past!!! I really worked so hard to get everything in place here! 🥺)

His eyes are a deep hazel like his twin.

However, Seri thinks to herself, staring at his side profile as he faced the fireplace, the flames casting a warm glow over his features, that in this light at least, they held a hint of mahogany in them. With the way that the light was catching in his eyes, she can see that it brought out the dark red undertone in them. She gives him a once over—steady gaze tracing his features from his hair to his eyes.

Orange.

Red.

Brown.

Like the fallen leaves that drift with the autumn breeze.

And before she thinks better of it, she is pulled into a memory.

Like the forest floor at that time when the sun was setting and its dying rays peeked through the canopy to shade everything a warm copper and bronze—the earthy smell of dirt with a hint of petrichor from last week’s rainfall; laughter echoing through flying swirls of leaves, recently scattered from a pile.

Mug of hot cider, freshly made, warming you up inside and out. Its warmth spreading from your fingertips to your head as its heady aroma of apple and cinnamon wafts up to your nose and fills you.

Pairs of strong yet gentle arms holding you—comforting you. A melody, sweet and tender as the arms you’re held by, drifts into your ears and lulls you with its lullaby.

Soft wool tickling your cheek as you nestle yourself further into the warm embrace, letting the song carry you over into a peaceful slumber. Here, you are content.

You are safe.

You are not alone.

You are loved.

And just like that, she is consumed. The sudden onslaught of the memory hurtling towards her like a tornado of broken glass, pieces of what was once a precious and tender reminiscence, now in shatters. Jagged, sharp edges were simultaneously slashing, ripping, and embedding themselves into her heart; threatening to shred through every soft layer of tissue to raw and bloody scraps.

She nearly recoils from the emotions that was all at once churning and burning her from within, fighting to keep the tempest within her contained. If she does not get a hold of herself…  

She. Will. Fall. Apart.

Seri instantly turns away from Fred and lets her hair fall to the side of her face like a black curtain between them as she attempts to silently reign in her tumultuous emotions.

Her companion hears a barely suppressed, sharp intake of breath and turns his attention to her. He finds her face turned away, seemingly focusing on a spot just off to the side of the fireplace. Or at least he assumes she was staring at a spot. Her long black hair effectively blocking off his view of her face.

Her figure was stock still except for the slow and methodical breaths he can see her quietly forcing herself to take. She still held the same posture on the carpet as when he came by the fireplace to sit next to her. Back straight, legs tidily folded underneath to accommodate for the sleeping gown she was wearing underneath her silk robe, and hands resting on top of her lap.

That was where Fred found the slight difference in the way she was holding herself. As soon as his gaze slid down from her slender shoulders to her neatly folded hands, he saw it. 

Her hands, he mused, were small and delicate looking and usually when they were at rest when she sits, are folded neatly one atop of the other. Like bird wings.

Now, her hands were anything but resting. 

They were slightly fluttering.

As if something ruffled their feathers. 

One hand still lay on top of the other but the other hand beneath was tightly curled into a fist. Its tightened grip causing her hands to faintly tremble. He had an inkling that if the other hand on top was removed, he would see the white knuckles she was making as she dug her manicured nails into the palm of her hand.

It lasted for only a moment and it was gone as soon as he saw it. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she took in a last deep breath and slowly unfurled her hand back to how it was. But it only took that one passing moment for Fred to know... that something was wrong.

“You alright, princess?”, he let out in a soft voice, his tone laced with concern.

She felt it.

Yes, she could tell he was worried over her. And not just because she was a born empath. No. She didn’t need to rely on that part of her to know that. His voice was—so gentle and soothing. Yet, it held such an intriguing blend of both boldness and apprehension to it that it didn’t want to make her pin the person who was asking under a glare of disdain. Usually, with the kind of rumors and reputation that garnered around her, there were mostly only two types of people in her life who would ask about her well-being with feigned compassion: reporters and suitors from highborn pure-blood families like hers.

One wanted to use her to stamp their name on the cover page of every magazine and newspaper.

The other wanted her hand in marriage for her wealth and, out of their archaic and medieval beliefs, to secure the continuation of their family’s pure-blood lineage.             

But both were attracted to her by their uninhibited ambition.

Both wanted a piece of her to claim for themselves.

The empath part of her can sense an oily power-hungry leech like that from a mile away, eyes closed.

Although now, the empath in her was sensing something entirely different from the red head beside her.

There was concern, yes. But there was also sincerity… genuine sincerity for her and—

Oh.

There it was. Buried beneath a bundle of his nervousness and the abrupt need to reach out to her...

Kindness.

It was kindness…

 And no. It wasn’t the pitiful kind of kindness that would be offered to her with condolences every time her parents’ deaths were brought up in every one of her mandatory but rare social outings. This kindness that she was sensing from him was pure and so unrestrained that it took her aback. Maybe even perturbed her a bit.

She was sensing this from the young man. The very same young man, who, along with his twin, would set off pranks to soak up the chaos they ensued. Resulting disruptive inconvenience and bodily harm to others be damned. Unapologetic and destructive, the two laid waste with their antics on and off the school grounds. Fred Weasley, one of the loud, cocky, and rambunctious devil duo pranksters of Hogwarts…

Was sitting next to her worrying about her well-being.

And Morrigan knows, with the kind of tempestuous and vitriolic relationship that they started off with—almost a week after she transferred from Ilvermorny, she’d never thought that he’d show her, let alone be capable to have this side of him. Perhaps, it was a good thing that she was already sitting down because reconciling these two sides of him was leaving her a tad disoriented.

Despite that… she lets herself welcome the feeling. She lowers her defenses a bit, letting its tendrils wrap around her senses in a warm cocoon. His earnest need to ease her out of whatever unsettled her—so honest and guileless, centers her while it melts away and soothes any residual pain that the painful memory left in her heart.

So different.

A/N: *tenatively pokes her head into the fandom* hey there! 👋 I hoped you enjoyed this “little” preview of my upcoming fred weasley drabble! I’m a newly minted fan so I wasn’t sure how my fic would fare among you older and OG fans so I decided to just post a snippet of it and see how many of you would be interested in my little project. tbh I wasn’t that into the harry potter fandom for most of my life. I did ofc watched the films when I was younger and ended up with a Daniel Radcliffe crush tht lasted up until I became a Hiddlestoner.

But other than tht I didn’t really consider myself as a potterhead.... until one rerun marathon film series drew me back into its clutches and not only got me to start reading the books but also gave me a newfound appreciation and love for the Weasley twins (especially Fred 😉). the twins deserved a better ending than tht btw. heck. almost half of the characters were done dirty by the end of the series 👀

Anyway, I didn’t expect to fall so hard for the twins considering the massive crush my 9 year old self had w/ harry potter lol. those sneaky twins really have a way of worming themselves into your heart without you ever noticing it! Now, it’s been almost two months since watching the movies and I’m still overwhelmed with all the feels about those two 😩. so this fic/drabble was sort of a cathartic release of all my pent up emotions for them. tbh this just started off with me just wanting to describe the aesthetics Fred was giving me but well... all my feelings spilled out. oops 😬

the title is based on a great song that I stumbled on YouTube called “It Takes A Lot to Know a Man” by Damien Rice and I think it fits the dilemma of Fred and Seri finding out that there’s more than what the eye can see with each other. but that’s enough of my rambling for now 😅. If u made it all the way here, congratulations! And thank you for checking out my fic! I really do appreciate the time you spend reading this as well as any feedback you can give 🙏 (the more detailed the better!) Please reblog/like if you enjoyed this as well! I really appreciate it if you could share this with some of ur friends/mutuals it really makes all the sleepless nights working on this worth it!

Also let me know if there are any grammar errors too (bc I’m def sure there are some floating up there) I’m more of a fanfic reader than a writer so this was a BEAST to get out for me!

P.S. I’m also planning to have a self-insert/reader imagine version of this and any future drabbles of this series in the future since I know how some people feel about ocs 👀

Taglist: @firewhisky-kisses @yourssuccubus (who expressed great support in helping me write this! Thanks, u two ❤️ I hope it was worth the wait!

[just-kessho]

Ambrosia: Dazai Happiness Week

[Day 2] Dress Up 

AU: None/Yokai(?)

Warnings: Suicide – this is Dazai, after all. Descriptions of blood and (slight) gore.

[Day 1] [Here] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7]

 [Surname] [Name] has seen many, many, many things because of her Gift, [The Eden Cycle], that may as well have granted her immortality. From joining the battles in the Edo Era that left a (though perhaps imaginary) metallic, coppery taste in her mouth whenever her memories rounded to the deceased, to the putrid smell of rotting bodies mixed with a strong stench of blood that insects would love to craw all over – and don’t get her started on the Dragon’s Head incident…

Oh man, even six years on, her hand would itch for the handle of her blade whenever she thought of that particular massacre.

But really, nothing could have prepared her for this image that she saw with her two eyeballs.

Dazai Osamu was infamous for many things, and failed suicide being one of them, yet he was trying to hang himself using that fur around his neck… which was just simply too short, thus resulting in the brunette really just trying to chock himself with it…

Key word there: trying to choke himself.

Because honestly, that piece of fashion accessory was still too short to be completely wrapped around his neck ending with a knot.

So [Name], being the loving girlfriend that she is, bee-lined straight to him and nearly used her tanto[1] (or well, one of the many that she has on her) that she usually hides all over her clothing to literally cut the thing to shreds.

But when suddenly remembering that the attire Dazai had on was on loan to them, and it was so delicately detailed anyway, she just had enough willpower to hold back.

Although with the male’s face turning a light blue, [Name] did have second thoughts.

Still, ultimately, she decided against using any sharp objects that could not only cut through the fur, but could also accidentally leave a worrisome red line along Dazai’s neck.

(Unlike her, it was rather easy, almost too easy to end his life, despite his many failed attempts. A red cut – deep enough – in his neck would mean a one-way trip to Heaven… a clean stab through his heart would also mean death… and heck, even falling down past a certain height equals an eternal sleep.)

“… You know,” [Name] did not want to think about how the living, breathing person in front of her could die anytime soon anymore, thus she settled on scolding him with an expression that she hoped conveyed her annoyance. “When Kunikida-kun said that a generous shop is going to loan us kimono, I don’t think he meant you could do anything you want with it.”

‘Rather annoyed’ were probably the two words to describe [Name]’s emotion presently, Dazai thought, yet he could decipher the faint twinkle in her eyes and the mouth that trembles for a fraction of a second clearly – after all, perception was one of his forte.

Was she truly worried for him, about him for a moment? How truly precious. He would have hugged her, tightly at that, yet eyeing the traditional kimono (or rather, furisode[2]) that she had on, the brunette held back – just barely. Like the expensive attire he had on, [Name]’s was perhaps even more intricate, and so more expensive. He wagered one of those styles she has on, it was probably worth at least two weeks of pay check for him, perhaps even more.

It was nice, refreshing even, to see her in colours others than the normal black and white, and while her furisode does still have those colours, hey, with the accompaniment of vibrant, pastel coloured flowers and purple, it brought out her beauty even more.

Heh, no wonder many borrow kimono for formal events like these instead of buying them outright.

Still, the same could be said for him – especially that high quality fur he has.

“But [Name]-chan~!” drawing out the female’s name that made her eyebrow twitch, Dazai continued as if that failed suicide did not happen, at all, “that fur looked so comfy, and it really is, so I thought my end could be comfortable as well as clean.”

“Yeah right, I had to waste my time trying to help you. That suicide was by far clean…”

A chuckle met her ears, and her eyes widened at the light laughter that was emitted from her boyfriend’s mouth. That traditional kimono with haori[3] really suited him. If you told her several years ago that Dazai can genuinely laugh with a light pink dusted across his cheeks, then she would have scoffed and walked away muttering “what a joke.” and ��wasting my time…” all the while under her breath.

… Still, Dazai looked so happy, so carefree (well, carefree as he was without running calculations and at least twenty back-up plans for the agency) and so… weirdly normal in that expensive kimono of his, so she too, joined his laughter.

Though that did not excuse him for his failed suicide earlier, thus [Name] was going to add an insulting nickname to show her annoyance (not that it always did much, as Dazai would just smile slyly and continue, completely disregarding the nickname), but at the look of utter comfort that was on his face as he rubbed his cheek against the fluffy material, she settled with:

“What are you, a kitsune?”

“But it really is soft and fluffy… of course, no where near that silk known as your hair but come feel it, [Name]!”

And so she did.

Not because she herself wanted to, oh no, even if that fur looked really soft… but because of the way Dazai’s face lit up whenever he felt the item, and she knew if she doesn’t, he really would have annoyed her to no end.

Oh, who was she kidding? It was because of the famous ‘puppy-dog-eyes’ that was aimed straight at her, though strangely enough, today seemed less ‘puppy-dog’ and more… ‘kitsune-foxy’…

Still, it did the job of melting her resolve-

And was he fucking purring?!

No way, the infamous Dazai Osamu, defeated by a mere accessory that people would bat an eye against, purring in delight at its power-

Oh my, that stupid thing really is fluffy…

So, when Nakajima Atsushi, also in a expensive kimono that was way over his finances that the poor boy had to watch where he put every step, wandered in the room, sliding the shoji[4] door, wanting to ask them if they were ready, he was met with a peculiar sight that had him rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The image of the two most dangerous people that he known of, snuggling into an accessory all the while seeming as if they were in pure bliss, was something that he would not forget in a hurry.

“Uh… [Surname]-san, Dazai-san… are you two ready?”

“Just give us a minute Atsushi-kun.” Dazai had answered, though all of them knew that it was a straight up lie, as they would need at least ten minutes. “[Name] here is looking more and more like one of those cat yokai you often find in old tales.”

“… Bakeneko[5]?”

“No, I’m more of a Nekotama[6] with my age…”

“… [Surname]-san, please stop speaking as if you are an old la-”

He suddenly stopped, for Atsushi realised the irony in the statement… though the actual age of [Name] isn’t known – not even to the female herself, but Vesalius (who was also invited, so Atsushi prayed that he would not strangle Dazai…) had deducted that she would be at least be two-hundred years, as [Name] often had nightmares – or well, past memories in her case – about days of samurai and warfare.

“All right, all right, Atsushi-kun, we’re going…” putting the fur around Dazai’s neck was hard, as [Name] had the sudden urge to just snatch it back and feel the softness eternally, but in the end, with Atsushi exerting a sigh, she, along with Dazai by her side, left the room.

Silently, without witness, the two shadows that were cast by both [Name] and Dazai held hands. Yet what was strange were the nine, fluffy objects (that somehow slightly resembled that weird fur-scarf that came with Dazai’s kimono) that were intruding from the shadow. These nine tails were the classic sign of a kitsune, and even the shadow of the furisode female have a tail, though this one was straight – exactly like a cat’s, yet with the end split equally in two halves.

Just before the light disappeared, thus taking the shadows with it, one of the nine tails found its way towards the tail of the nekotama, and the two enclosed around one another, much like how two couple would hole each other, never wanting to let go.

--------------------------

Notes:

 [1] Tanto: it’s basically a short Japanese sword that was used by the samurai. While I’m not 100% sure, I think Kyouka’s short sword qualifies as one.

 [2] Furisode: traditional kimono worn by unmarried woman/girls

 [3] Haori: a traditional jacket-like kimono

 [4] Shoji: those traditional paper sliding doors you often find in Japan

 [5] Bakeneko: a yokai cat that can shapeshift

 [6] Nekotama: a breed of bakeneko, born the same way as it, though only the oldest, largest (thus with more power and intelligence) cat could become nekotama. Nekotama have two tails

Done! Now, excuse me while I go reblog 2000+ photos of my husbando on my main trash blog. It’s not even 19 June here.

@dazaixhappinessweek2k19

[austenpoppy]

A review of "The Wonderful Won-Won" chapter 4 (part 1 because I'm a fangirl)

@hillnerd I said I would do it after my exams to take the time to say all I wanted to say and so do justice to your work, so here I am ! I always keep my promises. But Tumblr would not let me reblog this particular chapter, that's why I had to do a separate post.

Edit : I have seen your post about your father. I send you my best regards and all the hugs. I know it is hard. Love you. I know it's not much but I hope it will cheer you up a bit.

So if you want to find the chapter I'm talking about, go see Hillnerd's blog or follow this link : https://m.fanfiction.net/u/666390/

I recommend you all the other fics written by Hillnerd, they're fantastic.

So... yeah, my reaction to your chapter when I read it for the first time...

OH MY GOD ! OH MY GOD ! OH MY GOD ! Oh mon Dieu !

I'm smiling, a huge grin on my face even if nobody can see it because I'm alone, in my student room, at 2am and I'm too lazy to revise. I'm squealing on my bed, my face is tear-strained because I cried, and I feel very emotional. I swear, my heart swelled at least twice its size !

This is definitely one of my favorite chapters in fanfiction ever.

Let's go back in time to see what happened :

"The brain's tentacles were ripping him to shreds and reality was warping around him as an unsteady pulse echoed in his ears. Spiders the size of houses walked over him while their young devoured his limbs, leaving him unable to move. Powerful convulsions constricted his chest and air bellowed over his shredded lungs. All he could feel was pain, a tangible darkness, and the sensation of being drowned, but backwards?"

It feels so realistic. You got all the sensations of being in great pain yet being unable to move. I especially love "the unsteady beat in his ears". The spider anecdote makes me shudder. How awful !

"The only real thing he could think about, besides the pain, was her. What was her name again?"

Oh man, Hermione is on his mind and in his heart at all time, even in his darkest hour. She's the only thing that can take his mind off pain *eyes water*

The convulsions struck again and again. He longed to be able to lose himself in the darkness, but something kept tethering him to the unimaginable pain. He was drowning again, and his limbs were back, stiff as lead.

No no no my Ronnie is suffering so much he wants to black out, and what if the darkness meant death ? How come this is totally canon ? How come I enjoy this ?

If he could only say her name one time, maybe all of this would end? It almost seemed like an answer to a riddle. He just couldn't think what the riddle was or what the name was he should say. It was like trying to hold a fist full of sand, with each grain slipping through his fingers until he only had a few grains left.

Argh, my little Romione heart. Touché. He tries to hold on to her, the key to happiness, the light in the dark, the fire of comfort.

"How long was he—"

It's nothing really. A tiny sentence. But the fact that the person who said it was unable to finish it is just so perfect, so moving - as if the idea of Ron suffering was unthinkable. *eyes water again*

Why could he not control his body?

Oh god, I know this frustration. Your writing is so moving, you are able to convey so much feelings in the simplest sentences.

Ron did as he was told, even though the light was so bright he could feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat. A loud ringing tone pulsed in his ears, high and sharp.

I can feel exactly what he is speaking about.

"Can I… Can I touch him?" his Mum ask Pomfrey, sounding teary.

Aaaaaaaah you got me again. The hesitation in her voice when she probably wants nothing more, when she probably craves to touch him... That's it, my vision is blurry, I need to take a tissue (fortunately there's a box on my bedside table)

Ron tried to form a word, any word, to say to his mother, but as soon as he could so much as rasp a coughing fit took him. It rattled and tore through him unlike any cough he'd ever had before. Dark red blood exploded from his lungs and splattered the matron's apron. His lungs rattled as cough after cough shook his chest and tore through his throat.

I just felt a pain in my heart. A pang. It's so heartwrenching to see him suffer like this.

Ron had to concentrate, but was able to barely wiggle them and they felt whole enough.

Oh Ron, how can you make me laugh in a moment like this ?

He tried to wipe the back of his arm across his mouth, but his arm just wouldn't move off the bed, lamely twitching at his side. A slimy trail of sputum and blood oozed out of his mouth, but Pomfrey wiped it away with a handkerchief.

All is in the details. I'm picturing Ron, unable to move, his eyes open and unfocus, a trail of blood flowing from his mouth that he can't even wipe and MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT.

"We love you, sweet boy. We love you so much,"

Yes ! Give him love ! All the love ! I love you too Ron !

Ron began to panic as he tried again and again to make words. He couldn't. Tears came to his eyes and he started to breathe hard.

Nooo he can't speak my poor little Ronnie he must be so afraid and nooo he has tears in his eyes, my heart felt another pang why are you so good at this ?! That's it, I need a pause because I am actually crying. I am sniffing in my bed, tears have rolled off my cheeks and dampered the mattress. Damn you !

Ron tried desperately to say yes, but all that came out what a strange sound similar to the ghoul that lived in his attic. He tried to nod his head but it wouldn't do what he said and just barely moved to the wrong direction. What was wrong with him? He was trapped. Trapped in his own body unable to say or do anything!

I just want to hug you so much Ron. I can't but I really, really want to. That's one of the worst things in the world, being conscious but not being able to do anything.

"You are alright. What you are experiencing is temporary. You will be able to speak later. Maybe in a few hours. This is not permanent. The part of your brain that forms speech is injured, but will be healed - probably by the time you wake up tomorrow. You will regain movement in your body as well, but that might take longer before it's completely healed. Do you understand, Ron?"

You are such a good healer Mrs Pomfrey. And you need a raise.

"The bleeding will continue on and off again the next few days."

How come people think that the Bezoar erased every consequence possible of the poison ? Ron did not spend so much time in the infirmary for nothing !

"Hermione was here?" Ron asked, trying to sit up as quickly as he could. Instead his head rose off the pillow a few centimeters and he weakly collapsed back onto the bed. He gave another attempt to sit up, but the Matron of the hospital wing made it impossible to succeed.

He seems so surprised it is awful but so sweet. The fact that he tried to sit up twice pulled at my heartstrings.

"Did Hermione seem upset?" Ron blurted before realizing it was Pomfrey he was asking.

God the sweetheart somebody helps me !

Your heart stopped, and you weren't breathing for a few minutes, so it might take a bit for your memory to be back to normal.

HIS HEART STOPPED ! HE WAS NOT BREATHING ! OH MY FUCKING ALLMIGHTY GOD !

What happened? Why am I in the hospital? Who visited? Who poisoned me? Will I be ok? Was Hermione here? Where are everyone? Was Hermione upset? Is everyone else ok? Where's Harry? When can I leave? Will I be able to play quidditch? What potions do I have to take? Where is Hermione? Should there be all this blood? Are you sure this is normal? When will I be able to walk again? How am I going to the bathroom? Did anyone but my parents see me when I couldn't talk? When will I be able to sit up on my own? Why can't I use my hands? Do I still have to do my homework? Can't I drink more water than that? When can I eat? Can Hermione visit me again?

Oh. My. God. My heart swelled. I am once again crying thank you very much my bed is now full of dirty tissues. But like, this list is one of the sweetest and most heartbreaking things ever. I need to squeal. So I put my phone aside and do just that (which means rolling in my bed, laughing and probably looking like a maniac). "Did anyone but my parents see me when I couldn't talk ?". How perfectly insecuringly Ron that is (yes I invent words and no I don't care) ? "Is everybody else okay ?" . Man you just got poisoned, you are in unberable pain and you still ask for everybody else ? You're just so... so caring and I love you ! "Can Hermione visit me again ?" God the sweetest of sweethearts 2.

He coughed and felt some blood beginning to make its way down his throat. 

Somebody do something ! My little Ronnie ! Bad, bad Draco !

How could one person look so perfect and make him feel magically better?

He's so in loooove. That's why I love Romione : the raw love and painful need for each other.

 Well, better besides the feeling that he was choking on blood and couldn't fight off a possessed scrambled egg if he had to.

How dare you make me laugh again ? A possessed scrambled egg *snorts loudly*... I'm laughing through my watery eyes...

...he couldn't help but smile.

That's my sweetest of sweethearts Ron 3. He is in pain yet he smiles because the person he loves most is there and he's my little sun.

Last thing he wanted was the sight of bloody teeth sending Hermione away.

*snorts again* *then feels her heart pang again because it's an horribly sad piece of humor*

Ron could vaguely recall reading something about a poisoning, so nodded, hoping that would leave him alone with Hermione.

*shakes her head and smiles* That's so Ron. He just wants to be with the people he cares about.

"You're really here," Ron smiled hopefully. He thought he'd never have Hermione to himself again. She was biting her lip with worry, but she was there. She was beautiful, though a bit paler than usual. Was she in the hospital wing because she was injured? "How are you feeling?"

FOR F*CKS'S SAKE ! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME ! SH*T ! I NEED ANOTHER TISSUE ! AND I AM NOT HALFWAY THROUGH THE CHAPTER ! P*tain de b*rdel de m*rde ! It is so incredibly perfect and moving and Romione-y. The fact that Ron does not believe his eyes that she cares for him, that he smiles hopefully, that he thinks he would never be with her again, the fact that Hermione is biting her lip but does not say anything, and the selflessness of Ron who as usual does not think about himself at all but worries about his loved ones even though he just got poisoned...

"Better, now that you're awake."

My Romione heart swelled again.

Her hand gently made its way into his, sending a thrill through him like the first time he'd ever ridden a broom. He tried to squeeze it hard back, partly to ground himself that this was real, and partly to let her know something of how happy he was to see her, but all he could manage was a limp clammy hold. She didn't say anything to him, simply putting another hand on top of his one weak one.

I am at a loss for words. I am just so emotional. This image of them together is exactly why I love Romione so much. It is very poignant and moving.

"So… I kind of lied. I don't entirely remember what's been going on… I just wanted to see you," Ron said quietly.

At this point I just want to cherish this chapter forever and I definitely need another box of tissues, so I stand up and go search it. It's the "quietly" that actually killed me : picturing Ron, searching Hermione's eyes, whispering this to her is so sweet.

"Oh shit! Please don't leave. I'm so glad you're here. It's fine… I can catch up on this crap later."

He is so emotionally open I just... Hermione, cherish this boy.

He honestly didn't care if he sounded pathetic or desperate. She was the one thing he could hold on to when time was bending, and he wasn't sure of what was real and not.

My Romione heart does not thank you for the emotional roller-coster.

"I'm not going anywhere,"

Aaaah Hermione you pulled at my heartstrings. No, not you too ! I have enough heart pangs with Ron thanks !

"Sorry I'm so stupid right now. I just can't seem to keep a hold of things in my mind for long."

There self-depreciating Ron goes again... Like, am I hallucinating, or is he actually apologizing for not being well after having been poisoned ?? #Rontheboywhoapologizesforeverything

"You're far from stupid," Hermione said with her trademark scowl, and he grinned at that. "You were nearly killed. You had anoxia, where your brain didn't get enough oxygen. It's literal brain damage."

Yes, Hermione ! Tell him he's great ! Prevent him from being self-depreciating ! I love it so much when people let their appreciation of him shine through ! And she's so cute when she gets so anxious and worried that she has to ramble about facts, explain things and expose her knowledge !

He almost laughed at being brain damaged, but tears began to pool in her eyes.

Again so perfectly Romione-y. Ron sees the funny side of things, or the sadly funny side of things when he gets self-depreciating, and Hermione cries because she saw all the implications.

If it weren't for magic you might not be able to remember anything ever again, or talk, or move, and could have been mentally infirm the rest of your life. It wouldn't have been temporary. You'd not be yourself and I just — I just can't stand the thought that-that someone as alive and as - as wonderful as you could ever be struck down and unable to be yourself and I was so so afraid I was going to lose you and the last things I ever said to you were-were horrible, and I just —"

Oh my Romione. And my eyes are watering again. She's so devastated at the idea of a tetraplegic or diminished Ron, and I am too, that's the wrongest thing ever in fanfiction; and she's using the world "alive" to describe Ron and that fits him so well, and she feels so guilty that's awful even if it pleases me a little (I hate it so much when in fanfiction Hermione "accepts" to forgive Ron for Lavender. 😒)

"Oh, Hermione, don't—" he said while weakly raising his arms as high as he could so she'd come into them. 

My HEART ! YOU STABBED ME ! I NEED A F*CKING TISSUE AGAIN HE'S SO CARING AND SWEET !

~ Squealing time interruption ~

Hermione needed facts and figures to comfort her. "Hey, according to this parchment, I'm going to be ok, right?"

He knows exactly what to say to makes her feel better and that's instinctive. That's my Ron and I love him.

She gave a great wet sniff and nodded, though she looked even paler than before.

They're so terribly cute together. Hug her Ron, my girl needs it badly !

He'd have to humiliate himself a bit to get her to laugh, but it would be worth it.

So you are once again going to be very self-sacrificing, okay Ron, but what are you talking about ? How could you...

"And apparently there are some spells in place, so we don't have to worry I'll wet myself in the bed, even though I'm so mentally infirm," he said with a conspiratorial grin.

*jaw drops, eyes water (my fucking god I really am a mess and I look like I just had a heartbreak but okay), heart swells with enough Ron-love to fill a swimming pool*

~ squealing time interruption ~

Okay, I'm extremely moved and that's for a very personal reason. I have had 16 general anaesthesias in my life, yet I have always refused, even when I was seven, to use bedpans to... you know, because I am so proud; I hate admitting weakness and that felt so degrading, even if it's totally normal; so for Ron to humiliate himself like that just to make Hermione laugh is quite extraordinary and extremely selfless. I would never have done that.

End of part 1

[archeron-queens-blog]

Wings and Mist

Night Vibrance | part II 

Chapter 1

Rhysand’s sister, Sofiya, and her story, told from my perspective and what I wish happened both while she was alive and an alternative ending where her mother and her don’t die. This summary was confusing, I’m sorry,  I hope you understood it though

If you like this new project of mine, leave a little like, reblog and tell me what you thought of it!! As usual, if you wish to be tagged in later chapters, message me or comment!

Writing masterlist

Sofiya aesthetic

Night Vibrance pt1

Sofiya let her weapons’ belt clank to the floor, unbraiding her hair and deftly going through the motions of getting into her bath. More often than not, she had to get through her day in a permanent state of numbness, just so the camp around her didn’t kill her.

Every single day since her fourteenth birthday she had lived in an Illyrian War Camp, and since then she had to deal with being told she wasn’t good enough, just because she was a female. Just because she was a half-breed. But she had to succeed. If only, for all the other females before her, her mother included, whose wings had been viciously clipped at their first bleeding, who had never been taught how to protect themselves, who had never been able to taste the wind on their faces. She was the High Lord’s daughter and the camp Lord was too scared to not let her train, so she had to use that power and give them the freedom they deserved. Not that she wasn’t doing it for herself, she was ambitious and proud, and she wanted to be the first female Illyrian warrior, the first female to complete the Rite. And she wanted above all to prove all those bastards wrong.

She sat in her tub for much longer than needed, it was one of the small luxuries she was allowed, and she fully intended to make the most of it. After an unholy amount of time, she summoned back her wings and gently rubbed them with a soft washcloth and dried up quickly. She got dressed and pondered reading a book, but her sore muscles and dropping eyelids quickly made her decide otherwise.

The cauldron, however, didn’t think to reward her with a good night’s sleep. At the exact time she was falling asleep, a knock sounded from her window. Her training had her up and at the window in a split second.

“What the hell,” she sighed, opening her window. Marcus hovered just in front of her windows, still clad in his training leathers. “What do you think you’re doing? My mum will see you, get the hell out of here, right now!”

“I just wanted to see if you were alright, I saw you leaving earlier,” he said leaning on her windowsill. “Are you seriously not going to invite me in? What sort of education did they give you in the palace?”

“Marcus. Leave,” she said pinching the bridge of her nose. “Seriously, I’m okay, just go away.”

“It’s okay, no one will see us, don’t worry. Are you alright or not?” She knew this would last a while, he wasn’t easily moved when he didn’t think she wasn’t okay so she simply secured a shield all around her room and pulled him into her room.

“Just go take a bath, I’m not having you getting my room all dirty.” “See? Deep down, you actually love me,” he told her with a laugh, stripping down with no shame for his own nudity before her. “What happened?” he asked after a while.

“What do you mean,” she drawled from her bed, where she was reading her book, which pretty much translated to her pointedly ignoring a naked, heavily muscled Illyrian warrior bathing in her chambers.

“Sacha, you left extremely upset, those assholes may not see it, but I sure did,” he said appearing, buck naked, in her doorway.

“Just the usual. I only have to deal with them for two more months, I don’t mind it, Marcus,” she said while he appeared, clean shaved and wearing only a towel. “Why do you insist on shaving at night? The stubble doesn’t make you look more charming,” it did, though, she loved his little stubble more than she would ever admit to anyone.

“It always worked on you, dearest Lady,” he sat down next to her and tried to peer into her book, but she hid it out of his view before he could. “Am I supposed to just sleep here?”

“They already call me a slut, it’s not as though it’ll change anything. Besides, you were the one who said no one would know,” she said with a smirk.

“The second you pass the Rite, I’ll help you rip them all to shreds,” he said running his fingers through her damp hair. “Tomorrow I’ll leave early, no one will see me. If you don’t mind me staying here, that is.”

“Of course I don’t, silly,” she drawled through her sleepiness. “How was your day?”

“It was great, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it, let’s go to bed,” he pulled her to his side, and she suddenly remembered that he was clad simply in one of her towels. She felt like a lovesick child with a new crush. It was disgusting.

“Don’t work tomorrow, let’s sleep,” she said suddenly. Mother, what was she doing? She had to visit her family in Velaris tomorrow.

“You have to train for the Rite, Sacha,” he said with a small laugh at her sleepiness.

“I’m visiting my family, tomorrow, and you can just say you had some recognition work to do.”

“Cloak me, then, I’ll leave a note to Lord Devlon,” and with this he got back up again, still wearing nothing but the towel and went out the window while she placed an invisibility shield around him. Being part High Fae really had its privileges sometimes.

***

Sacha woke up to the soft light of dawn over the steppes, Marcus’s arm draped over her waist and his other hand drawing soft circles over her shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she drawled.

“Me? I was trying not to wake you up.”

“That was a very failed attempt, then,” she said.

“Shut up, princess,” he shoved her aside, rubbing a hand over his sleepy eyes. “Weren’t you visiting your family today?” “Yeah, I’ll have to go there today,” she said into her pillow as she turned away from the sunlight and from the day in general.

“Won’t your mum come looking for you? Shouldn’t you, maybe, start getting ready?” he said smugly.

“Just shut up, Marcus,” she answered.

“Tell you what, you go downstairs, get breakfast, tell your mum you’ll be late and I’ll escort you home,” he whispered into her matted hair.

“You go, I sleep.”

“Do you really wish my death so much,” he says while picking her up in his arms and making her stand up on her own, throwing her out the room. “Good luck,” is the last thing she hears before he slams the door in her face. Sofiya pads into the kitchen, her mother already wearing a simple classy gown while she eats her breakfast.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mother said between sips of tea. “I would tell Marcus he can’t expect to leave your shield in the middle of the night to come get water and not expect his scent to be all over the place if I were you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, it doesn’t suit you,” her mother laughed her bright, clear laugh. “He’s a good male, darling, I’m happy for you.”

“What? No, nonono, we’re friends, mum, that’s it. Cauldron, I haven’t had enough sleep to deal with this.” “Don’t be so overly dramatic. I’m teasing you, Sacha, calm down. We could use an escort, though, how trustworthy would you say he is?”

“To the mountain? He’s perfect for the job. To Velaris? Don’t even think about it,” Sofy answered while sipping her tea, steeped as strongly as she could.

“Why not? Are you inviting random strangers into your bed?” “No, I just don’t want to burden him like that. Cauldron, do I look stupid? I know my positions means I have to be more careful than most.” “He’s your father’s soldier, Sacha, and a grown male, I’m sure he can handle pressure,” her mother said passing her a tray of food. “Give him this, and both of you get dressed, he’s our escort for today.”

“If the Lady of the Night Court wills it, it will be done,” she bowed mockingly and left to her mother’s laugh.

***

“Am I to know where I’m escorting you to or am I just to go with you blindly?” Marcus asked as he strapped his knives to his belt and his thighs.

“Don’t know, ask the Lady, it’s not exactly my call. If it were, you would be down there training younglings.,” Sofiya answered, drumming her fingers on her teacup.

“And why is that,” he said, joining her near the window and combing her hair down her back.

“We’ll talk about it afterward, we’re late now, come on,” his fingers lingered on her hair but slowly he let her go, following her down the stairs.

[To be continued]