#laure adamo

[thepersephonecabin]

A Very Adamo Family Christmas

Happy holidays! This is my gift for @foxesonstilts for the 2019 @festivebastion gift exchange. They requested Adamo/Laure, snapshots from their life at the Greylace estate, and Adamo and Royston being bros.

So this is the story about the wild circumstances surrounding the birth of Adamo and Laure’s first child. Sorry, it isn’t as Adamo/Laure centric necessarily as it could be, so much as it’s... general chaos from the whole crew, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

read on AO3

-

The problem with living in a remote top secret military base disguised as a farmhouse an hour from Thremedon, Laure realized, was that when you went into labor in the middle of the worst blizzard in a decade you would inevitably find yourself snowed in with only a group of the biggest idiots from here to the border as midwifes.

She supposed it was lucky at least that it had happened after their yearly gift exchange for the winter holidays so at least she had Hal and Thom to help bring the collective IQ of the house up, she reasoned, gritting her teeth as another contraction hit her.

Owen was helping her up the stairs to their bedroom, one arm around her waist, the other hand clasped in hers. “It’s okay, breathe through it,” he told her soothingly.

She was trying to, but it was kind of hard with the cacophony that was occurring behind her in the rest of the stairwell.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Raphael was cursing, “How the fuck are we supposed to deliver a baby?”

“Don’t look at me,” Luvander said, “I haven’t seen a vagina up close since secondary school.”

“I GOT A TOWEL,” Toverre announced from somewhere beyond the bottom of the stairs.

“Thrilling. Did you hear? He got a towel,” Ghislain said to Luvander.

“Are you sure you don’t want me carry you?” Owen asked her, gently.

She looked over at him, and let herself focus on him, “Are you sure you can?”

“I’m sure I can try,” he laughed. He let go of her hand so that he could bend slightly, and hook his arms under her knees, lifting her up into his arms and carrying her the rest of the way. A clattering of footsteps let her know the others were following.

As her husband deposited her on the bed, the others filed in, and Adamo turned on them in full chief sergeant mode. “Right, you all can’t be in here or you’ll just wreak havoc.”

Everyone began arguing, shouting about who should get to stay. Laure began dedicating her entire remaining concentration on the arduous task of removing her soaked underwear, an act that she normally wouldn’t have performed in front of everyone, but one that she didn’t see the point in concealing under the current circumstances.

“We can handle this, right boys?” Raphael said to the other first wave members. “I mean, we’ve taken down catapults and taken down tons of Ke-han assholes, fought in countless battles. Delivering a baby? How hard can it be?” Then he caught sight of the pair of panties Laure had just finished removing. “Is that? Bloo-“

He didn’t finish, because he’d fainted. Luvander and Ghislain took a solemn moment to look down at him and not help in any way whatsoever.

“As Adamo’s best friend, obviously, I’ll stay,” Royston was saying.

“Yeah right,” Luvander said. “A fantastic idea. Let’s just put a person known for accidentally exploding things when he gets stressed out in the birthing suite, I’m sure nothing could go wrong there.”

“Well, you know how much it pains me to say it, but Luvander has a point,” Adamo began.

Royston gasped, “Et tu, Owen?”

“Maybe you could try using your powers to get through the snow outside,” Thom suggested. “Then, we could sent Rook or Ghislain out towards Thremedon for a medic.”

“Nope, not going,” Rook said, shouldering his way into the room, carrying a bucket full of towels in one hand and a bowl of water in the other. “Her water already broke, and contractions are less than ten minutes apart. Not enough time in this snow to melt our way out, get to Thremedon, and get back. I’m staying here. Send Ghislain if you want someone to check up on her after it’s over.”

Everyone went quiet, looking at him as he made himself at home at the foot of the bed and began rolling up his sleeves. Luvander gaped at him.

“Hillary, get over here, make yourself useful and pull her hair back as much as you can,” Rook said, pulling a hair tie off his wrist and letting it hang off one hand angled back towards Thom without looking. “Then do mine.”

Thom exchanged confused glances with everyone else, but slowly complied.

“Rook, I’m sorry, I think it might be time for me to get my ears checked again, but are you being reasonable right now?” Balfour asked.

“Shut up, Balfour,” Rook snapped. “I’m delivering, obviously. I have the most experience.” He said it as if it pained and exhausted him to even have to say it.

“Is this really time to brag about how many girls you’ve fucked?” Laure said through gritted teeth.

Rook gave her a warning look and snarled, “It’s not about how many girls I’ve fucked, it’s about the fact that I’m surely the only person in this room who’s helped deliver a baby before.”

“When the fuck did you have time to do that?” Luvander asked. “Thom, when did he do that?”

Thom sighed and began pulling Rook’s hair and braids into a ponytail. “I don’t know, Luvander. I’ve told you, I’m not his keeper.”

“To be fair,” Ghislain said, “You are putting up his hair like a lady-in-waiting right now.”

“Okay, stop,” Adamo said. “Rook, do you really know how to do this or are you talking bullshit?”

Rook looked exasperated, “Do all of you just think the whores in Molly just have doctors waiting on their beck and call? No, they don’t, and even if they did, it’s a tad hard to pay them in sex when you’ve just pushed a baby out of yourself. You just make do with whoever’s there, and you can hardly call yourself a Mollyrat if you haven’t pulled a baby out of someone. I mean, Hillary’s standing right there, isn’t he? Who do you think pulled his whiny ass out of our Mom? Mom? Though, if I’m being honest, if I had known how much of a pain in my ass he’d be I might’ve been more keen to just leave him in there.”

“Wow, love you too, big bro,” Thom muttered sarcastically. No one else really seemed to know how to respond to this statement because Rook and Thom’s shared parentage was somewhat of a touchy subject that no one felt that safe commenting on with any level of seriousness.

Rook seemed to notice Raphael lying on the floor for the first time, “What happened to him?”

“He saw the bloody underwear and just gave dead way,” Balfour said.

Rook looked at the unconscious body for a moment, and just said, “Pussy.”

Adamo was pinching the bridge of his nose, “Okay, obviously Raphael can’t stay. Luvander is out because by his own admission he doesn’t know jack shit about the female reproductive system. Royston, how about you use your explosions to push the snow and work on trying to clear an exit to the stables, and once we get out there Balfour can see if his girl is willing to melt a path for Ghislain to get a horse out to the road.”

“That won’t be a problem, the problem will be getting her to stop,” Balfour promised.

“Well, as long as she doesn’t set the house on fire she can melt as much snow as she wants, there’s certainly enough of it. Laure, are you okay with Rook doing this?”

“Honey, I cannot express to you how little I care about who takes it out as long as someone does,” Laure said, resting against the pillows and closing her eyes. “Not Toverre, though. Love him, but I’m already stressed out enough. I can’t worry about how many sheets I ruin right now.”

“Fair enough,” Adamo said. “Rook, how much help are you going to need?”

“Maybe one other person,” Rook said with a shrug. “Besides you. Your job is to keep her calm. I don’t care who else stays as long as they stay out of my way. Just make a decision so I can look at her. I doubt your bride wants me to flip up her skirt with everyone here.”

“Okay, Thom, help him since you know how to handle him,” Adamo delegated. “Hal, why don’t you stay so you can pass on every scintillating detail to your husband. We can pass anything dirty to Toverre as they come to keep him busy and make him feel included. Everyone else, you have your jobs or you can standby for one.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Luvander said, with a mock salute, and lead the way out.

 The first child of Owen and Laure Adamo, was born at nearly one in the morning, and Bastion-blessed, she was a big one. “The fattest fucking baby I’ve seen since Thom came out,” according to Rook, in fact.

And she was. 12 pounds, 2 ounces, with chubby, little cheeks and rolls upon rolls of skin, but she was completely and utterly perfect.

“I don’t know that she’s necessarily fat,” Luvander said, leaning over Toverre’s shoulder, though he was definitely talking to Raphael. “I think she might just be built like a square like Adamo is.”

“You think?” Raphael asked.

“Can you two please quiet down? I’m having a bonding moment with my niece,” Toverre complained. He was leaning over the bathroom sink where the baby was squirming in the baby bathtub he’d gotten Laure as a baby shower gift. It was supposed to be the best baby bath on the market, and Laure had honored him by giving him the task of washing the baby for the first time since he’d been so excited about the gift.

Raphael gave him a mock apologetic look, and said, “Oh, so sorry.” Then he stage-whispered to Luvander in the most obnoxious way he could manage, “I HOPE FOR LAURE’S SAKE THE REST OF THEIR CHILDREN AREN’T THIS BIG.”

Luvander gave him a wicked grin. “WE SHOULD BET. HOW LONG BEFORE THE NEXT ONE AND HOW MANY THEY END UP WITH?”

“IT’LL BE RAMANTHINE TWINS FOR SURE. I MEAN WITH THEIR FREQUENCY OF LOVEMA-“

“Okay, that’s it, get out!” Toverre yelled at them.

“Or what?” Luvander asked.

“Or I’ll tell Adamo the way you were talking about his wife,” Tovere said.

They got out.

Back in the bedroom, Thom was staring at Rook again.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” Rook hissed at him, shoving dirty sheets into a basket, then doing a double take. “What are you smiling at?”

Thom blushed, looking away. “It’s nothing. It’s just… you know, the last time I saw you with blood up to your elbows like that it was in the desert after you massacred that tribe with Kalim.”

“So?” Rook asked.

“I don’t know. I just thought it was nice to think about. It’s like you’ve graduated from taking life out of the world to bring life into it.”

“I’m gonna take you out of this world if you don’t shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thom sighed. “But seriously, you did good. I’m proud of you.”

“Do I get any gold stars or special points, Professor?” Rook snarked in mock happy voice.

“Rook,” Adamo said from the bed beside Laure, “you were doing so well, don’t start being an asshole now.”

“Bold of you to think I ever stopped.”

It was then that Toverre re-entered the room with the baby in his arms. “Well, she’s all clean, even though she did splash me about a million times in the process.” They could see his shirt was covered in dark marks from the water as he went to sit at Laure’s bedside and pass her daughter to her. “She’s beautiful, Laure. She’s perfect.”

Laure smiled, “Thank you, Toverre.”

“What will you name her?” Hal asked.

“Well,” Laure said, looking at her husband. “We needed to talk to Rook and Royston about that.”

Rook paused for a moment at the mention of his name, then shook his head and passed the basket of soiled linens to Toverre for him to take care of.

“I’ll, uh, take these downstairs and send the Margrave up then,” Toverre said awkwardly. “If you need anything, just yell.”

Rook leaned against the window, looking out at the snow for the sake of not looking at Adamo, Laure, and the baby, which he had privately decided to called The Interloper. In the distance he thought he could see a light down towards the end of the driveway. Seemed like he’d been right about them not having time to get a healer if Ghislain was just starting to get back.

It didn’t take long for Royston to bound in. He’d gotten a quick glance of the baby with the others, but they all knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was able to take her on a whole damn uncle-niece shopping spree. Sure enough, he was grinning ear-to-ear when he came in with barely contained excitement. “Congratulations,” he said, giving each of the new parents big hugs, then staying attached to Adamo with an arm around his friend’s hip.

Thom went by the window and elbowed Rook until he went over to the bed.

“Well, Laure and I talked about it extensively before tonight,” Adamo began giving his wife a smile, “and against our better judgement, we decided to ask you two, Royston and Rook, to be her godfathers. Royston, you’ve been my closest friends since we were pieces of shit in college together. You were really the one person who encouraged me to go after Laure, you officiated our wedding. And we agreed that neither of us would be here, holding our daughter, if it weren’t for you. And Rook, since the day Amery dragged you into my office you have been nothing if not a pain in my ass, but you’re also maybe the strongest and bravest son of bitch I’ve ever met. And I know if there was one person I could count on to protect my daughter if for some reason Laure or I couldn’t, it would be you.”

“So for those reasons, and in thanks to all your help tonight, we decided to name her Royce Rook Adamo. Rory for short,” Laure said. She looked at Royston. “Do you want to hold her?”

Royston laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Of course, I do. What kind of question is that?”

Finally, now that she was in his arms, Royston had a good look at her. She had Adamo’s brown skin, and the croppings of what promised to be curly red hair. He thought she might also have her mother’s smile and cheeks, but a wider nose like her father.

“I’m in love with her already. You know, I rather have a feeling that she’ll be a marvelous handful, this one,” Royston said with a soft laugh, carefully moving away Rory’s tiny fist as she tried to grasp ahold of his beard. “And a fighter to boot. I hope you’ve both gotten your beauty rest.”

Adamo laughed, “Really, I think you and Hal should get yours as well. After all, you’ll have to babysit her eventually.”

“Of course,” Royston agreed. “I’m sure you’ll be ready for some alone time soon enough. Airman Rook, would you like to hold her?”

Rook wasn’t sure what he’d like, but he could feel enough eyes on him that accepted he baby into his arms anyway. He had to admit, now that she’d calmed down and stopped crying she wasn’t so bad. But he wasn’t sure it made her not bad at all yet. It had been many years since he’d held a baby in his arms, and he wasn’t sure he was a fan of having someone to take care of considering Thom gave him enough trouble already.

“Well, Rory,” he sighed, “sorry your parents gave you such a shitty name, but I suppose I can try to make it up to you by teaching you a few swear words, and the important things like holding your liquor, winning bar fights, and maybe if you grow up and end up taking after me in other arenas I can show you the art of wooing ladies and by wooing ladies I mostly mean getting laid, of course. Now, if you really cooperate with me, we might be able to teach you how to say ‘fuck’ before anything else, and wouldn’t that show Mommy and Daddy?”

Rory responded by gurgling spit at him, which he took as a yes. Dumb bitch still doesn’t know how to talk, he joked to himself and almost laughed.

“Yeah, that’s about as good as I was hoping to get when we had this conversation,” Laure said.

“Honestly, I expected it to be much more vulgar,” Adamo confessed. “He could be losing his touch.”

“Rory, can you tell Daddy ‘fuck off’?” Rook asked the baby.

Rory gurgled some more.

“Fine, we’ll work on it some more,” he promised. “We have time.”

[foxesonstilts]

Settle down with me...

[aymentanazefti]

Adamo: mort marquante/ Sophie Tapie méconnaissable/ Carole Laure est mamie/ Cauet et sa chérie http://www.allnewsmag.com/2021/08/adamo-mort-marquante-sophie-tapie.html

[thepersephonecabin]

I always thought about most Magicians being similar to witches and wizards in Harry Potter where you could inherit magical talent if you are from a magical family or you could just get it randomly like a muggleborn. I always thought of Malahide as someone who later gained her powers an outlier.

In canon i think i remember that Xi'an also has people with magical Talent but that no one in Volstov knows what the source of it is because the Ke-han don't have a Well. I think they were the ones who came up with using weather manipulation to combat the dragon corps.

It is never mentioned in the series but I like to headcanon that the desert nomads also have magical people. Maybe they are more practice based as opposed to being based on inherent talent? That would kind of make sense considering how kalim interacts with Malahide in Dragon Soul. Or they could be like sand benders or something. That would be wicked cool but who knows, like i said, its never mentioned in the books.

The rest of this is getting into my OC's so you can ignore but i cabt help it i love my oc's dearly. As I talked about in a past post, me and one of my friends made up oc's who are the children of adamo and laure. One of those OC's is Natalia (yes, she is named after the dragon) who is the muggleborn type of Magician. None of her siblings have a Talent and neither laure nor adamo have Talents but she ended up getting the power to control fire and subsequently was taught to control that Talent by Royston. Natalia grows up to be a dragon creator and eventually has 3 kids with her husband (non-magical). Two of the kids inherit magical talent from her. The first, her son Aster, has the inverse of his mom's Talent and so his powers are focused around frost/snow/ice. The second is her youngest daughter Poppy who has life force manipulation. Her other daughter Violet does not have any talent so shes kind of like a squib, but she and her dad can bond about being the only ones who dont do magic in the family.

Quick canon question about Talents:

Are people born with Talents or do they acquire a Talent through drinking from the well (in exchange for giving something up), or both?

I’m just trying to figure out if Royston just Is Like That or if he (like Malahide) gave something up? Iirc Caius was Born Like This but also, Talents always start with well water, so somebody has a slurp and then passes the capacity for Talent on to their kids (like in the case of Caius?) but iirc Royston’s brother and niblings don’t have Talents, so. Did Royston slurp or did the Talent just skip generations in his family?

[festivebastion]

Festivebastion 2016 Link Round-Up

Here’s a round-up of all the entries for this year. We had a small but otherwise very smooth exchange, so here’s to everyone who participated! The Kiss (art) by @eatingfireflies (Antoinette/Anastasia) Molasses by @greaseonmymouth (Raphael/Ivory, Luvander/Niall) Paper Faces On Parade by @capncrystal  (Adamo/Laure, with appearances from Everyone) and its prequel Why Did I Think This Was A Good Idea? 

Lipstick (art) by @foxesonstilts (Antoinette/Anastasia)

[thepersephonecabin]

laure adamo has ADHD and so do like half her kids with owen thank you for your time and attention

[foxesonstilts]

it’s always sweater weather in the adamo household

[foxesonstilts]

i spent like 5hrs today being frustrated cuz i couldn’t get any drawing done but then i went back to just being extremely horny on main for adamo and laure and the problem solved itself

[foxesonstilts]

[puts head in hands] ........i don’t have an excuse for this

[thepersephonecabin]

Fandom: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett Relationships: Owen Adamo/Laure Summary: "Owen Adamo did not, under any circumstances, dance.” Adamo works as a set maker at his friend Royston's ballet studio. Everything changes when a new ballerina named Laure joins their ballet classes and Adamo is completely lovesick over her.

I’m so excited! This is my @festivebastion gift for @foxesonstilts which takes place in their Ballet AU- I hope you enjoy it!t

[foxesonstilts]

~ wedding bells ringing in the distance ~ 

[thepersephonecabin]

Bad havemercy valentines ideas:

Royston: my heart is exploding for you valentine

Hal: my favorite love story is ours

Rook: so do you take cash or check?

Thom: are you my long lost older brother who i thought died in a brothel fire decades ago because we have some serious chemistry, valentine

Caius: I don't need to be a velikaia to know you're falling for me, valentine

Alcibaides: I would love to take you home to meet Yanna

Kouje: I would follow you to the ends of the earth, valentine

Momaru: I would spend a whole book homoerotically imagining us as a normal couple without the weight of the crown hanging over us

Madoka: are you a dragonsoul because the compass implanted into my skin and necrotizing my hand seems to think we should be together

Malahide: a spy never kisses and tells

Kalim: be my desert prince/ss?

Sarah Fleet: get out of my house

Balfour: i promise they aren't actually steel

Adamo: lets move to the countryside a raise dragons together

Laure: let's have a hot cocoa date sometime!

Toverre: my intentions for you are squeaky clean, valentine!

Luvander: i'll show you why they say i win

Ghislain: i'm all in proportion

Raphael: you know i once spent months in a Xi'an village worshiped as a god for the size of my dick, wanna find out why?

All the airmen in general: you could be my second favorite girl (the first is and will always be the dragon sorry)

Antoinette: i'll come for you when volstov falls

Anastasia: want to see my royal chambers?

[thepersephonecabin]

Legacy and Bullshit Mindfuckery (fic)

Summary: Luvander has two things for the Adamo’s first child: a gift and a wish.

Please see full tags and warnings AO3

Note: So... How did we get here? Well, basically, when I was writing A Very Adamo Christmas for @foxesonstilts for the @festivebastion exchange I meant to put in a short bit about a Luvander giving Laure and Adamo’s first child a very special gift, but forgot until after finishing FestiveBastion. So I told myself I was gonna write a small addition, and then my latent need to see the airmen recover after the war took over and suddenly I had a 4k+ luvander character study on my hands. And also about halfway through my if-i-dont-write-this-right-now-i-will-never-sleep craze a tiny part of my brain was like “you should make luvander a trans man for absolutely no reason” and I did and actually really liked the way it fit into the story.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy!

-

A day and a half following the birth of Rory Adamo, Luvander found himself on the doorstep of the Greylace Estate once again. Wrapped in one arm, he cradles a soft drawstring bag, cream in color with a light pink ribbon around the top.

He didn’t bother knocking as he shouldered his way through the doorway. Even though he still primarily lived out of the apartment above the hat shop, this place was dragon territory, and therefore as far as he was concerned, it was his home as well.

“Hello?” he called out, slipping his shoes off at the door. Maybe if he was really lucky, Rook would come in and pitch a fit about like he would in the good old days.

Balfour emerged from the lounge with a book cracked open in his hands and questioning eyes. “Oh, Luvander. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Luvander confirmed. “Where’s the chief and his young lady love? I had something I wanted to bring to them.”

“They’re in their bedroom, I think,” Balfour said before quickly amending, “Oh, no, not like that! I think it was just time to change her.”

“Ah,” Luvander said. “How is the not-so-little tyke anyway?”

Balfour smiled and began leading him up the stairs to Laure and Owen’s room as if Luvander hadn’t been there not two days ago. “Oh, you know. She sleeps and eats and poops and cries. Lucky the three of us don’t room up in the same area of the house as Chief Sergeant and Airlady Adamo or I’m sure we’d all be knackered already.

The three of us. Luvander knew he meant the three Second Wavers outside of Laure of course. Luvander felt a sick little spark of jealousy flare up in his stomach and not for the first time at their mention before he stamped it out with the guilt of it all.

Balfour continued, “Mom and Dad are still smitten with her though. I wager that by the sixth week in they might be out of the honeymoon stage.”

“Sixth? I don’t know if I could make it to the second,” Luvander said. Of course, he was happy to have a little niece to dote on, but Luvander had never seen much draw in the idea of having a baby you couldn’t return to its rightful owners when it began to shit itself.

Balfour laughed good-naturedly, “I think Adamo’s a bit more levelheaded than you, however.”

Luvander shrugged. “Maybe so, but I’ll stick to my instinct and take you up on that bet.”

They’d reached the Adamo bedroom now, and throught the door Luvander thought he could hear the baby’s wordless vocalization (Did most newborns make this much noise when they weren’t crying or was this one just especially talkative, he wondered) paired with Laure’s laugh and the low tenor of Adamo’s voice.

Balfour turned to him, touching Luvander’s elbow softly through his coat. Balfour wasn’t wearing his gloves today, Luvander observed. Good, he thought, he shouldn’t feel like he needed to hide them, especially not here, not with family.

“Before you go in…” Balfour began, “I wanted to ask how you were doing. I know Ghislain sailed out.”

Luvander resisted the urge to grimace. He liked to tell himself he did an okay job of deflecting everyone else’s attention away from his persistent problems with loneliness. On the good days he cracked enough jokes and sarcastic witticisms to keep the people around him too entertained to notice. On the bad days he threw himself into overworking, holed up in his workroom with little sleep and becoming overly perfectionistic about whatever he was working on until he felt like tearing it all apart again. But on the best days Ghislain was home, in this place Ghislain didn’t even think of as his home, but the place Luvander was, which in Luvander’s mind designated it as Ghislain’s home nonetheless.

Balfour, however had always been the one he couldn’t fool, and it was a fact that needled at him constantly. He didn’t enjoy it when others looked past the mask he’d so carefully crafted for himself like one of his custom hats.

Not that Luvander had anyone but himself to blame for that. Balfour always suspected Luvander’s yearning for affection and attention and approval had been more than the average loneliness, but then Luvander just had to go and fuck it up even further.

It had been at least a year and a half or maybe even two when it happened. He, Raphael, Balfour, and Rook had been drinking (because of course they had) in Balfour’s room at the Greylace Estate. These rooms were a damn sight bigger and nicer than the ones in the Old Airman, a fact that Luvander could never parse out about whether he appreciated or was annoyed by. As such, Balfour had set up a couch and a few chairs to fill the space between his bed and the opposite wall. Ever since Raphael turned up again, they’d started having little get togethers one or twice a month, alternating whose place hosted.

Then Thom’d been offered a job as a professor (a real one this time) at the ‘Versity and Rook had come back to Thremedon bitching and complaining the whole way back from whatever adventure they’d been on when they received the letter. Apparently Thom had already begun writing a letter back declining the offer when Rook found out and through some well-intentioned bullying and ripping of half-finished correspondence got Thom to accept. From Luvander’s understanding, Thom had decided immediately to pass on the job in order to continue looking after his older brother, knowing that Rook had very important reasons for staying away from Thremedon. He couldn’t ask Rook to go back there, and he didn’t feel comfortable letting Rook travel alone without eventually winding up dead in a ditch from asphyxiating from his own vomit either. According to him, Rook’s mental health had markedly approved once the Dragonsoul was destroyed and th’Esar’s plans thwarted. He’d finally been able to properly grieve, Thom said, but that didn’t mean he was ready to part ways and risk Rook relapsing without him to drag him out of it.

Rook found all this out and stubbornly refused to go along with that “bullshit mindfuckery” Thom was always practicing on account of the fact that teaching at the University had always been Thom’s dream job, and he would be damned if his little brother threw it away for his sorry ass. After all, while the ‘Versity had improved in regards to letting in more students from poorer walks of life since Thom had been awarded for his work with the Airmen, the same improvement hadn’t come in regards to hiring choices. For all any of them knew, this might be the last time a mollyrat was offered a job at the Empire’s highest learning institution in a long, long time. So, back to Thremedon they came, and Luvander, Balfour and Raphael’s little survivor’s club had expanded from three to four members. (There had always been an open invitation to Adamo as well, but he only rarely took them up on it.)

So, anyway, they’d been drinking thoroughly and Luvander more thoroughly than the rest. It’d been months since Ghislain had come to port- not his fault, some jobs simply took longer than expected- and Luvander was in the pits. That said, he’d been holding it together pretty admirably that night, and it had all been fine until Rook and Raphael left. Raphael said he had Royal Guard duty the next day- it was a job offer Luvander, Ghislain and Raphael had all received from the Esarina herself after she’d almost died by her own guards that night when they’d had to rescue the Adamos. Raphael had been the only one to accept.

But so when Raphael stood up to leave and appropriate one of the Estate’s carriages Rook also decided to leave “before the Professor starts hyperventilating over me” and figured it would just be easier to go back in one carriage. It was, in sober retrospect, a suspiciously sensical thing to come out of Rook Molly’s mouth, but who knew anymore. Luvander didn’t know what kind of bullshit mindfuckery Thom had exposed that man too while they were travelling, but Rook’d been all kinds of weird since they’d come back and by “weird” Luvander meant “vaguely decent.”

The two of them took their leave and after that the details grew fuzzy, but he did remember drunkenly confessing his depression about missing Ghislain to Balfour and Balfour being nothing but supportive as understanding.

“You’re so sweet,” Luvander had told him, slurring his words and cupping the other man’s cheek. “You know that? You’ve always been so sweet, Balfour. Sometimes I wonder how someone as sweet as you got mixed up with all of us selfish ingrates. You always deserved so much better than us. Hell, if you’d never met us assholes, you’d still have your hands.”

Balfour blushed and looked away. “My hands weren’t your guys fault, and even if I don’t have them, I have my girl and all of you. Besides, I’m not so inno-“

And that had been as far as he’d gotten before Luvander launched himself into Balfour’s lap and shoved their mouths together.

Now, it’s important to note that Luvander had always been a touchy drunk. He’s sure he’d made passes at all thirteen of the other airmen more times than he could count while trashed out of his mind. He even had one absolutely disastrous incident with Adamo that had gotten a very stern talking to about appropriate relationships between a superior officer and his subordinates the next morning. Luvander had deeply respected the things Adamo said to him at the time despite the massive hangover he was fighting his way through as he said it and the urge he had to hang himself rather than have this conversation at all. That didn’t mean he hadn’t brought up the irony of it in his speech at Laure and Adamo’s wedding, though.

Which was all to say that Luvander was no stranger to make-out sessions with his friends after a few too many drinks. In fact, drunken fooling around had been the bedrock upon which his entire relationship with Ghislain was founded. Even after Luvander and Ghislain were “official” they’d kept the relationship fairly open because Luvander wasn’t the sort to abstain from sex for months at a time while his lover was at sea. It had simply come with the condition that if anything that strayed from the “casual sex” territory and into the “feelings” territory had be to discussed- Ghislain wasn’t jealous about Luvander being with other people physically, but he was jealous about having to share Luvander’s heart and overprotective at times about the idea of someone taking advantage of Luvander’s emotions.

This had been different though. This kiss with Balfour hadn’t been borne of happy delirium or playfulness like most of his less-than-sober escapades were. This had been borne of deep, deep sorrow. A desperate effort to patch a leak in a dam ready to burst. The other reason it was different was because Balfour had only had had two drinks that night, and Luvander had had at least five times that.

On the bright side, if one had to have such a mortifying experience in their lives, Luvander could think of very few people better to have it with than Balfour Vallet.

The epitome of gentlemanly behavior, Balfour had gently broken off the kiss and softly and without malice told him that they couldn’t do this, not when Luvander was so intoxicated. Luvander had nodded and understood, but then broken into wracking sobs as he blubbered about how fucking alone he felt all the time. Balfour let him cling to him like a security blanket even though Luvander was still straddling him and repeatedly assured him that he didn’t care if Luvander covered his shirt with snot and tears.

Then Luvander woke up the next morning on Balfour’s couch with a blanket draped over him. His clothes were all intact with the exception of his shoes and his binder which he had a bad habit of sleeping in and Balfour knew it. Balfour must have peeled it off once Luvander had passed out along with the boots and then buttoned Luvander’s shirt back up and even replaced his signature scarf. Both binder and boots were now neatly laid out on the coffee table with care.

There were still a few bottles of alcohol too, and ordinarily he might have been tempted to drink them. This time though, he reckoned he’d done enough damage under the influence for one day.

That was about when Balfour appeared, already dressed for the day and carrying a tray of water and coffee. “Oh, you’re awake,” he’d said, kicking the door shut behind him. He sat next to Luvander on the couch and set the tray on the table. “I hope you don’t mind that I took off your…” he said awkwardly, wringing his hands like he always did.

It took Luvander a moment to understand he was talking about the binder. “Oh. Oh no, it’s- Balfour, I know you’d never do anything to me or go further than protecting my ribs from some rather tragic pain in the morning. And it’s not anything you haven’t seen in the showers before. If anything I think when it comes to invasions of peoples’ personal boundaries, I should be the one apologizing to you right now. What happened last night… the way I just went after like that was unconscionable and I promise it will never happen again. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest if you never wanted to see me again.”

Balfour looked shocked. “Of course, I don’t want that. What happened last night wasn’t ideal, obviously, but you were plastered and having a rough day. I get it.”

Luvander could’ve both laughed and cry at that. “But it wasn’t just a bad day. It was… Bal, I think I have a problem.” He could practically feel the bile coming up just from saying those words out loud, but he told himself that if there was ever the time to admit it to anyone, this was it so he continued: “I think maybe I always had. Even before Xi’an it was like this, just not as intense or constant. I don’t know how to be alone. I don’t know how to feel unimportant or like I’m not the center of attention without letting it control me. When there were fourteen of us I could ignore it, right? Because there was always someone around, but now…” He wiped away tears with his scarf and adjusted it anxiously. “And, like, the way this place just fucking tossed all of us out like yesterday’s trash the second they didn’t need us anymore and that blasted medal ceremony was over didn’t exactly help.”

Balfour nodded slowly. “I think I know the feeling or at least a fraction of it. I felt so isolated and broken at the end of the war, but even before that I… well, I suppose I always felt like I was second to Amery.”

Luvander felt another pang of guilt. None of them had been sure how to react when Balfour replaced his brother in the Corps, but Rook more than anyone. Before Amery died he’d been the one of them that Rook was closest to, so Balfour’s presence was anything but welcome to him. So, whenever Rook had a problem, Balfour was usually who he took it out on. And Luvander had always just let him. Because sometimes crossing Rook was like crossing god in that house, but it didn’t excuse how cowardly he’d been.

 “Got feminine parts between his legs, airman’s honor.”

That’s what Rook had said about Balfour when he’d tried to be kind to Thom that first day when the Professor had them do introductions. Even then, Luvander, the real one with “feminine parts” among them was sitting right there, and he hadn’t said shit to stop Rook.

(Luvander had always felt Rook didn’t mind trans men as much as he minded trans women. Something about the way trying to be more masculine was seen as noble, while trying to be more feminine made you a Mary in a world where women were always seen as lesser. But he also felt like Rook’s somewhat backwards and begrudging acceptance of Luvander’s presence was conditional, like it was something that he was able to revoke at the barest hint of insubordination. Luvander was tolerated as long as he fought well and shut up and was cruel like him, but that didn’t mean it was real. At least Thom had seemed to have trained some of that out of Rook over the years, but it was still a nagging fear for Luvander.)

Luvander didn’t say any of that. He just said, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix it.” I don’t know how to fix me.

Balfour escorted him to the ‘Versity after that and made him talk to Thom about it. Thom being Thom, of course, looked at it as the academic he was. He talked about all kinds of fancy words like ‘schizoid’ and ‘histrionic’ and ‘dependent personality’. Basically, Thom said he couldn’t be sure exactly what the problem was without examining further. But he assured Luvander that there were coping mechanism they could try and that he had colleagues from the ‘Versity that he could ask for more medically focused advice as compared to Thom’s social theory perspectives.

Bullshit mindfuckery, Luvander remembered. As much as he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of Thom “examining” his psyche, he was significantly less thrilled about a perfect stranger doing it. At least he could trust Thom. At least Thom knew jackshit about how the airmen worked beyond the court gossip and bards’ song and those fucking statues that made them war heroes and not real people anymore. At least Thom was there when he woke up on an infirmary bed unable to talk for how deep his throat had been slit only to find out that four out of fourteen of them had come back. Even if Thom had been beside himself with grief, unaware that number five, Rook, was still breathing somewhere out there, at least Thom had borne witness for himself what they’d gone through, and Luvander wasn’t about to have to hash all of that to someone new.

But he couldn’t sit on his hands and not accept help when it was offered. Because he’d made Balfour a promise. He’d promised that he would never kiss Balfour again without fair and honest consent, plastered or not, and he’d meant it. He had so few friends left in this world. He wasn’t about to lose another due to his own selfishness and stupidity.

And so, he gave himself into the bullshit mindfuckery. He’d been meeting with Thom once every one or two weeks (or more than that if something set him off and crisis called for it). It was helping, Luvander thought. Slowly but surely.

Back in the present, Luvander shrugged at Balfour noncommittally. “It sucks, but I’m seeing the Professor tomorrow. And I guess now if I need someone to keep me company I could come and let the baby keep me busy so Mom and Dad can have some alone time.”

Balfour smiled at him. “You could have come over anyway. Well, I won’t push for specifics, but if you want to talk later…”

“I know where to find you,” Luvander confirmed.

Balfour gave him a bigger smile now. “Okay. I’ll let you talk to them then,” he said, and began descending the stairs, leaving Luvander at the at the door to the Adamo’s room.

He knocked briskly on the door and heard the Chief say, “Come in,” from the other side.

When Luvander opened the door, he found Laure on the bed over the covers cradling not-so-little Rory and making faces at her. Adamo was over by the radiator holding a bottle over the heat.

“Ah, I thought I heard someone out there talking to Balfour,” Laure said. “I didn’t know you were coming over today, but then again, I don’t think the pregnancy brain is totally out of my system yet.”

Laved waved moved to sit on the bed at her feet and waved her off with a hand. “It was unannounced. I had a gift for the baby and thought I’d bring it over.”

“Oh, that was thoughtful of you,” Adamo remarked walking over. To his credit, he only let a sliver of the wariness of a man who put up with thirteen uncontrollable ever-pranking monsters with dubious respect for authority for Regina even knows how long it’s been slip into his voice.

Luvander took the drawstring bag from the crook of his elbow and held it in his lap. “Well, I started working on this once you announced she was on her way. I guess I could have given it to you earlier, but it just felt like I should wait to give it to Rory in person. And of course, I didn’t exactly know you would choose to go into labor in a blizzard, so I didn’t have it on me the other night.”

He had a million things to say, a million possible preambles he could make, but he figured it was best to just show them. So, he pulled open the drawstrings, reached in, and pulled the carefully constructed figure of silver-grey fabric and held it up for inspection.

Adamo looked too shocked to say anything. Laure’s mouth had dropped into a soft “o” shape. But Rory had caught sight of her new toy and vocalized with one hand in her mouth and the other reaching out toward him with demanding hands. Bossy, he thought, Like her dad.

“I’m not sure I got all the details right since I was working off memory, plus she never really let me get that close to her anyway, but… Here she is,” Luvander said, because in his hands was a very small plush dragon.

“Is that…” Laure began.

“Proudmouth,” Adamo breathed. “Can I see her?”

“Of course,” Luvander said.

Adamo took it from him as if squeezing too hard would make it turn to nothing in his hands, turning it from side to side to see all the craftsmanship Luvander had put into it. Embroidered patterns where Proudmouth’s metal had been engraved, carefully cut and stabilized fabric made to take the shape of gears, a brass-colored ribbon where brass-colored brass reigns would’ve been. Every detail down to the shape of her claws had taken hours to craft and even more hours of meditating and sifting through bittersweet memories to recover. And here were the fruits of his labor all pieced together. Finally, Adamo let out a breath and said, “Looks just like her.”

“Well when you two starting talking about having kids, I wanted think of something special I could pass down to them, and eventually thought, well, every Adamo needs a dragon, right?” Luvander said. “So, I settled myself of making a different for each of your kids, if you have more that is. And it felt important that Rory got Proudmouth as your firstborn. I think… I think if things had turned out differently than they did Proudmouth could have been her birthright what with the way Anastasia picked two Vallets in a row to ride her.”

Adamo’s face as always was had to read, but somehow with a dragon in his hands, he looked years younger, and Luvander could tell whatever he was feeling he was feeling a lot of it.

Then Adamo smiled and said, “Thank you. It’s perfect, Luvander, really. I guess we should give Rory her girl and see if they choose each other.”

He passed the dragon to his daughter’s grasping hands, and they all watched as Rory immediately pulled Proudmouth to her chest.

“I think that’s your answer,” Laure laughed, dabbing at her eyes.

And in that moment, it seemed to Luvander that the world shone brighter. Welcoming a new generation was always hard, especially when the old one had lost so much, but it felt nice to be able to give the Airmen a proper legacy- one that wasn’t bronzed in statues, written in theses, or whispered behind hands at palace balls. But one that was simple- from father to daughter. And wrapped up in that gifted legacy was a wish, the most powerful wish Luvander had ever made, sewn into every stitch and seam: I wish that the ones who come after us won’t need our bullshit mindfuckery in the first place.

And then, Rook ruined the moment when they all heard a loud bang of the front door opened way too forcefully, followed by “BASTION FUCKING DAMNIT, WHO LEFT THEIR BOOTS IN THE DAMNED DOORWAY, I THOUGHT I DIDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT ANYMORE!”

Laure, Owen, and Luvander all looked at each other, and all at once they burst into laughter.

[thepersephonecabin]

Hal *on the phone*: Adamo come over your wife is crying

Adamo: what do you mean? laure is right here and shes fine

Hal: No, your first wife, Royston. He’s hysterical please help.

[foxesonstilts]

i had some time leftover so i cleaned up and coloured my outfit sketches for the laure/adamo wedding pic

[foxesonstilts]

i’m drawing Laure and Adamo’s wedding outfits and I’m honestly having Such A Great Time