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lynnthefrenchtoast · 2 years

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in the works ⚗️

most of these will honestly never get finished i just have scenes written of core moments dont get ur hopes up (feel free to tell me which ones ur dying to see tho)

aether-centric : a fic in which aether receives a wind glider from amber and realizes, with some envy of paimon, that he cant fly anymore

xiaoaether : selective mute traveller fic set during lantern rite but instead of a shy and solemn hero when aether finally starts speaking hes a sarcastic shithead

kazuscara : i have like 4 different versions of the same fic in which kazuha and scaramouche are starcrossed less than lovers more than friends because i really like the concept of kazuha knowing its stupid to choose a boy over his lifelong ambition to see the world but still not wanting to leave scaramouche

anya-damian : a fic in which their class thinks anya and damian are dating so now theyre sort of just going along with it because neither actually want to deny

yantao : 100% self-servicing fic bc i kin hutao extremely hard. yanfei asks her out and she says no because shes busy with funeral parlor duties and cannot imagine herself in love. its a pity because over the course of the fic you can tell yanfei means a lot to her but she just doesnt have the space on her plate for a girlfriend

excerpt:

"I am the 77th director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." Hutao's eyes, always flowery and bright, for the first time.. dim. "This legacy will not die with me."

kazuscara : a fic part of my long Genshin Celebrities AU which tells the story of member of world famous boyband 4NEMO and the underground twitch streamer he has a crush on. its very funny to watch the ohsofamous kazuha scramble to earn the attention of scaramouche but the AU is mostly text fics whereas this is a normal fic and it makes me hesitant to finish

xiaoven : also part of the long celebrities AU. co-members of 4NEMO who are also fake dating xiao and venti try to maintain a colleague-ish relationship while having to act lovey dovey on cameras

kaebedo / thomaluc : also part of the AU. in which, much like irl, the fanbase decided despite kaeya being romantically involved with pianist albedo kreideprinz and diluc dating DCKZ's manager thoma that the brothers are secretly in love and kaeluc becomes the biggest meme of the fandom (do i ship kaeluc? no. would this absolutely happen? rule 34.)

chiscara : in which its blatantly obvious scaramouche is down horrendous for colleague harbinger childe and everyone knows it, but for some reason keeps turning childe down.

thomato : ayaka makes her brother solemnly swear not to lay a finger on their new earnest and boyish housekeeper. the problem? the housekeeper tries to lay hands on him.

kazuscara : kazuha keeps incessantly offering scaramouche cute trinkets because he thinks scaramouche doesnt like him. scaramouche likes him. hes avoiding kazuha precisely because he likes him too much.

kazuscara : a spin-off to the Celebrity AU in which kazuha in an interview accidentally leaks hes sort of kind of crushing on someone and everyone including 4NEMO themselves race to find out who

kaebedo : albedo gets rude when hes nervous and the cavalry captain makes him very nervous

xiaoven, slight tw for suicide and gore : fic starts with 'Butterflies who lose their wings never fly again, it's the same for yakshas' and cuts to xiao brutally stabbing his spear through a god over and over. but its no use, it wont bring back his wings. hopelessly, he tries to kill himself but is interrupted by the sharp playing of the dihua flute and an anemo vision

xiaoven : based on the latest Perilous Trail event. listen, if hoyoverse wants to give us a canon Room with your greatest fears scene, THEN IM GOING TO MAKE A ROOM WITH YOUR GREATEST DESIRE FIC

in which venti accompanies xiao to that one place in chasm where itto saw beans, shinobu saw her mom and lumine saw the abyss except its changed to showing you ur greatest desire. ventis being mondstadt. xiao's... being the sound of the dihua flute

kazuscara : MAFIA HUSBANDS. its a whole fic each chapter being a one shot abt the story of this company where scaramouche is the head boss and kazuha is the secret lover with him wrapped around his finger.

my fav scene is kazuha being poisoned and scara needing to negotiate for the antidote... and then scara tries to kiss him and kazuha has to physically push back and remind, "im literally poisoned rn."

thomato / thomaluc : in which thoma and diluc are getting married and ayato watches bittersweet from the sidelines. angsty fics arent my taste exactly but there are exceptions

excerpt:

"It's not everyday you get to marry your childhood crush."

Ayato smiles too, something glazes his eyes. Not fondness, not contempt- acceptance. If he had known Thoma was also into men, maybe he would've shot his shot. If he had, maybe it would be his wedding day today. If it were, maybe he would be gazing at the ground in fondness, saying something like 'It's not everyday a commissioner marries a housekeeper.'

kaebedo / kae..gredo? : in which kaeya likes albedo and nigredo likes kaeya, so they fall into this back and forth where nigredo tries so hard to imitate his brother, if only to get kaeya to look at him a fraction of the way he does albedo.

"Subject Two," I start. "what makes you think I want this?"

He scoffs. "You want Albedo, don't you?"

"It's no use hiding it. You're desperate. You want my brother so bad you'd get on your knees and beg," Nigredo turns to stare me down when he says, "and he doesn't want you back. Not even a little."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Yea, fuck me," Nigredo sits up, if only to take my hand and pull both of us down. "you want Albedo? I'm the closing thing you'll get."

xiaoaether : in which aether loses his patience and kills. xiao shows up to the crime scene and finds the bloody traveller just standing there, waiting to be arrested. and as an adeptus, xiao should arrest him.. but instead he begs him to run, to not get caught.

theres more. theres so much more.

if anyones interested in more of the fic ideas my brain gives me at 2am just ask i have a whole list

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saiakv · 1 month

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[ COMPANY ] He... wasn't sure what this is. It was late, humans get weird at night usually. Either they are all too vulnerable or they think their made up rules don't apply to them. All Mahito knew for sure was that he has seen what Geto looks like when he's thinking and this wasn't quite it. A little different in the face slightly but more-so in the shape of his soul.

The cursed spirit wasn't about to make assumptions when it came to the only being he couldn't read well, instead he plopped down within the usual conversational distance he always did.

A tilt of his head was directed at his friend. Friend. Hm. A stupid look on the curse's face, some manner of thoughtful even, clearly his interest was directed at Geto but... then his head tilted back to look forward. This pal of his liked to keep secrets, liked to keep a lot of things to himself. If there was something he had earned, it was Mahito not tormenting him relentlessly to pry it out.

He was there if Geto-kun wanted to air out his thoughts or... feelings. If not he'd just stay for however long seemed appropriate. Hm. Appropriate. A strange word to try and understand in this even stranger context but here he was anyways. If that meant something, Mahito sure didn't know.

angst meme : accepting

The night breeze carries a waft of city smell through tall buildings; grease, trash and gasoline. Solemnly, they lean against the terrace railing, gaze traversing over the myriad blinking lights in a lukewarm fashion. It's not often that Kenjaku stops to reminisce - in reality, they don't. Even in that moment, any taste of nostalgia for times past is filtered through their disdain for how little the world has become in their eyes.

Even if there is no rebirth, I don't need to think about it. The world isn't growing smaller. But when you eat the same meat every day, you stop feeling hungry.

Words echo a familiar grating voice in the back of their mind. An indecipherable expression settles atop the sorcerer's features as they traverse back into that long forgone conversation — in a way they haven't before, as there was no reason to. In spite of swimming the sea of samsara for so long, they had yet to escape some mundane notions; such as recollections visiting the mind nearing sundown. And that time was nay, at last, the conclusion of a thousand year pursuit.

You are wrong, Sukuna. The poor eat to end their hunger. But once you have enough to never be hungry — it is then that the hunger never ends.

Briefly, their senses focus on the small inner pocket sown to the kasaya; the edge of Prison Realm pricks into their stolen skin at all times, there. A subtle stimulation of the nerves, to keep their attention guarded. They are just as quick to avert it when another aura creeps into the lonesome setting. For a moment, Kenjaku could swear they expected to see him in flesh and bones — but Mahito's sewer-stench assaults their nostrils instead.

If their expression could have been read as pensive, it is not something they bother to fix. And if there's an odd reading on their soul, then the human-born curse is free to inform them about it. A mere blink is all the greeting they will offer, regardless; as they begin to process the curse's demeanor. Quiet, unintrusive, uncharacteristically tame when he hovers beside their statuesqe form. Geto hides his hands within his robes, slips on a smirk — reflects the inquisitive look.

He imagines the average shaman would be unsettled by a curse immitating humanity so accurately. Even moreso upon the realization that, simply by showing up, he had managed to abduct their attention from the desensitized, passive dissatisfaction immortal life tended to bring. A rekindled interest lurks behind gleaming purples as they fix on their mismatched counterparts. He notes the way the breeze sways Mahito's disheveled mane, in the same way it sways his own behind him. And the whimsical thought comes along; Mahito is, perhaps, the only being that, at least expresses, boredom with his existence. Though he's easily excitable, at least, being so young — with an ancient essence all the same.

A softer smile settles on their features whilst digging amidst the fabrics to pull out a small bottle of sanitizing deodorant. And they begin to sing while spraying him with it, knowing the intrigue might counteract any volatile reactions ( suddenly, Kenjaku finds their mood has shifted, though they can't exactly pinpoint why, other than that they were given something to fiddle with )

❝ There's... a ... — ♪ hundred and four days of summer vacation, then school comes along just to end it -- so the annual problem for our generation, is finding a good way to spend it ♫ — ❞ Spritz, spirtz; and then the spray is tucked back in and his hand pretends to hold an invisible microphone that's shortly pointed in Mahito's direction.

❝ — like maybeeee... ❞

#꧕ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇺‌🇳‌🇫‌🇦‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌ 🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇸‌🇴‌ ꒰ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ 000 ꒱#answered.#distortedkilling \ mahito

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werewolfboi · 4 years

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✧

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧ I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧ I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse.

#—i solemnly swear a lot; ( meme. )#—i keep a close watch on this heart of mine; ( connections. )#—alpha stag; ( prongs. )#pxtterjames #owl post

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mikkeneko · 3 years

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Got tagged by @veliseraptor for a writing meme!

How many works do you have on AO3? What’s your total AO3 word count?

193 works over 10 fandoms; 2,591,823 words.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I would count 10 real ones. Dragon Age; Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle; Critical Role; Marvel Cinematic Universe; The Untamed; The Witcher; Cardcaptor Sakura; Fullmetal Alchemist; Gundam Wing; Weiss Kreuz. Some of these pre-date the existence of AO3, and some of them are better off that way.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Villain State of Mind; Cover Up the Sun; Laughing As I Pray; I do solemnly swear; The Morning After. All Loki fandom fics. Not too surprising as that was the most mainstream fandom I wrote for, and they’ve been around for a while now, lots of time to accumulate stats.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I have a somewhat complex set of criteria for when I respond and how.

I will respond to all comments left on works in my current/active fandom except for: comments consisting entirely of emojis (mainly because I have no idea what to say to that) comments consisting of single words (same) or comments that seem to be about something other than my fic entirely or focus entirely on negativity (i.e., the commentor is using this box as a space to rant about how much they hate a character, the show, or another author/trope.)

I will usually but not always respond to comments on my next-to-last fandom. On older fandoms I will respond only to especially long or thoughtful comments, or ones that specifically ask a question that I can answer.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

That would have to be Rise From Ash, the Loki timeloop fic I wrote in MCU. Since it was intended to lead into Avengers, it naturally had a downer ending since we know how Avengers went for Loki; but the story also ended with him having a major mental health break and resolving to kill himself in order to end the timeloop, so, uh, that was pretty unhappy.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I think that the Never Gonna Tell A Lie series has to qualify for this one by default; two fics of the “characters from wildly different series meet in a bar” format, spanning seven different franchises.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Occasionally. I can’t answer in a lot of detail because I make a conscious policy of thinking about these comments as little as possible, so I tend to forget the details. Off the top of my head I know I received a few comments on my MCU fics of people complaining that the fic was nothing more than a Thor-bashing exercise (it wasn’t intended as such, but you can’t control how the audience will receive, I guess.) And then there was the whole infamous “ableist torture porn of a mentally ill man” episode.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I can recall. It may have happened that I just don’t know about. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Have you ever had a fic translated?

A fair amount! Sometimes people will leave a comment asking permission to translate. I have always granted it. Sometimes they go through with the translation and sometimes not.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! In Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle I co-wrote a couple fics with @faux-fires which were a lot of fun. (Which... doesn’t seem to be on AO3, huh. But Not Quite Paradise is still on ff.net.) And more recently @cerusee and I have been trading scenes back and forth for each other’s stories.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t know if I have just one. Maybe Kurogane/Fai. They really manage to straddle all my favorite ship dynamics.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Both of my WIPs in Critical Role fandom, Molly’s Moving Castle and Fjord Mustang’s YEEHAW! Fun and Pony Ranch, are at this point probably never going to be finished. Partly because of Characterization Marches On; the characters that I thought they were when I started writing were not the characters they ended up being in canon. But mostly just because I’m no longer really in the fandom.

Wonder if it’s worth closing out the WIPs on AO3 with final chapters describing how the fic would have ended?

What are your writing strengths?

I can do humor, I can do horror, I can do heartbreak. I can write a complex outline and stick to it, I have a fair amount of discipline and perseverance. People occasionally compliment my character voice, so I’d say that’s decent. I can spin up a plot for just about any situation. I love adapting canon to AU. My dialogue is pretty punchy and my action sequences are adequate.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m really bad at writing OCs, as I admit to every darn time this comes up. I’ve also recently realized that I have a strong tendency to avoid writing about characters I don’t like, on several fronts.

The first way that manifests is that if there’s a main/good guy character who the fandom likes and I dislike, I will avoid writing about them whenever possible. I don’t do character bashing. (Which means that if I am writing about a protagonist character, even if they’re being a jerk and the narrative is whacking them for it, that doesn’t mean I hate the character. It just means that the story requires that they get a good whacking, Thor.)

But the second way this manifests is that I will often just... avoid writing about the bad guys, if they’re unpleasant and I dislike them. Which in shorter things is fine! We’re here to read about the characters we like. But in longer or more plotful things, that means that all of the villain’s bad things happen off screen if they happen at all, so the audience doesn’t get a chance to really build up anger against them, so their eventual downfall is less satisfying.

I’m also weaker at writing romance than I would like, I’d say. If it’s a story that has a plot, the romance will frequently get shoved in around the corners or at the last minute. If it’s a story that’s supposed to be about romance, the characters will usually sidetrack into having philosophical discussions about moral relativity when they’re supposed to be flirting.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m not sure I understand the question. I don’t think this has ever come up in my fic. I do not speak any other languages fluently enough to have ever tried to write any part of my fics, dialogue or otherwise, in a language other than english. Is this asking my thoughts on other people doing that? Sure, why not?

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would have been Gundam Wing! Gosh, it’s been so long that I barely remember what that first fic was. But the biggest thing I wrote for that fandom was a ghost story on a space station, which was not very good, objectively, but I look back on it and think it had some seeds of a pretty cool horror/psychological drama going there.

Was Duo Maxwell really haunting the space station? Or was Heero Yuy just going mad with grief? Who can say.

Tagging! Well, Lise tagged me, so she’s out. How about... @hollyand-writes (if you have the time to spare,) @curiosity-killed, @thethirdamell, @plotdesigner, and @cerusee ?

#long post #mikke memes #mikke meta

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jj-bxby · 4 years

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Rudy Pankow x Reader Request - Who’s Who

gif credit @toesure

Request - Can I make a Rudy Pankow request pls?? One where the reader and him are dating and the reader is part of the outer banks cast. They are doing The Who’s Who interview with Buzzfeed. They’re just being like super cute during the interview. Thanks! 🤗

Word Count - 1.2k

A/N - This is a piece where the reader is a part of the OBX cast as another character :)

“Rudy, I swear to god if you don’t stop shaking your leg right now,” you mumbled to your boyfriend as the camera’s light flickered on. He looked at you and grabbed your hand out of frame, giving it a squeeze as he smiled at you. Both of you were rather nervous, this was your first interview since you had told your friends you were dating but hadn’t brought it to public light, at least not yet. Luckily your friends were supportive as always, JD sending you both dumb memes about couples, Madilyn and Chase inviting you on a double date, and Madison always being there for you to talk about any relationship questions you had. It was like a fairytale for now, but the both of you had a few different late-night conversations about how your relationship being in the public eye could affect you. Gently sliding your hand from Rudy’s, you turned to look at Rachel, your interviewer for the day as she scribbled on a piece of paper.

“Alright guys, we’re going to be playing Who’s Who today. I’m sure you know how it works already, but I’m going to give you some questions and you’ll point to who is most likely to do the thing in question! Just be yourselves and feel free to talk more about the questions, okay?” The group chattered in agreement, and Rachel nodded.

“Okay, first up. Who’s most likely to mess up their lines?” You smiled and pointed to Rudy, as did everyone else. Well, everyone except Rudy himself of course, who had looked to Chase. He gave you a mock-gasp, when he saw your hand pointed to him, clutching his heart dramatically. “Seriously? Woooow. I just make up my own lines, sometimes is all!”

“To be fair, you making up lines stems from you forgetting them in the first place,” Madison pointed out, nodding to him.

“Look we got some of my best lines that way. Dare I say some of the best lines in the entire show,” He cocked his eyebrow and you laughed.

You mimicked your boyfriend's voice as you recited one of your favorites, “I can’t walk bro, I got polio.” Everyone erupted in laughter, while Rudy rolled his eyes. “Like I said, best lines in the show, man.”

Once the laughter had dropped off, Rachel moved to the next question. “Okay, who’s the most likely to fall or trip while filming?”

Everyone pointed to Madilyn, including herself. “Yeah, y'know that scene where I walked on the log after the storm? We had to do more takes of that than I’d like to admit, just because I kept falling off the log!” She laughed and looked at you, “And Y/N had to help me cover up the bruises the next day!” You smiled, remembering trying to brush color corrector and foundation onto Madi’s skin to cover up the nasty bruises she’d gotten, and failing horribly.

“Now that I think about it, Y/N did have one pretty hilarious trip at one point.” Madison said, glancing at you. “When we were doing a take of the Midsummer's party and she was wearing heels, she totally tripped on her own feet!”

Chase flashed a shit eating grin as he continued the story. “Yeah! And she wouldn’t have even fallen but Rudy tried to, uh, “catch” her,” Chase air-quoted, “but he ended up making them both fall. Luckily Rudy is just such a gentleman.”

You scrunched up your face and groaned while remembering that scene, but your boyfriend just threw his head back and laughed. “Hey you could have at least let me fall on top of you, that day, mister.” You joked as you bumped your shoulder into his lightly, giggling at the thought. He bumped you back, but it was harder than either of you had expected, and you fell off of your stool.

“Oh shit, babe,” Rudy said as he rushed to help you up. You sat there giggling on the floor as your boyfriend hopped out of his seat and held out his hand.

“Y‘know, I seem to fall a lot more with you around, ya dork.” You smiled as you took hold of his outstretched hand, him helping you to your feet while apologizing profusely. “Oh my god, it’s fine, Rudy! Look, I’m not broken!” You said, spinning in a circle before you smoothed out your dress. You glanced over at the others as you took your seat again, seeing the others had taken to staring at you both and grinning knowingly. You rolled your eyes as Madison wiggled in her seat at you, raising her eyebrows.

Rachel cleared her throat as she went back to her questions. “Alright guys, who is most likely to be found staying up all night?”

The votes were split between you and JD, both of you having pointed at each other. “Look I always get notifications from you texting me memes or dumb reddit posts at three a.m., JD!”

“Aha! So why are you checking them at three a.m., huh Y/N? You know I got read receipts on,” he accused, wiggling his finger at you.

You narrowed your eyes and slowly pointed your finger back towards yourself. “Touché.”

“Who’s most likely to be the ‘Cast Mom’?”

You perked as you pointed to yourself, pumping your fists in the air when everyone else did as well.

“I swear to god she has everything you could ever need in that damn purse of hers.” Rudy said with a laugh.

“She even kept fruit snacks in there for when I wanted something to snack on,” JD nodded. “Oh she has chips for me!” Chase chimed in excitedly.

“You don’t want to be around these boys when they’re hungry,” you explained.

“Yeah, y’all also have like an unlimited supply of Band-Aids and bobby pins in there too,” Madison added, Madi nodding in agreement.

“It’s true, she basically knows what we need before we need it! She’s also the best at making plans and getting all of us to show up to them!”

You look to Rachel dramatically. “What can I say, it’s hard raising five twenty-something’s all on my own.” You let out a little nose laugh at your own joke and saw the others smiling back at you, trying to contain their laughter.

“Alright, and final one for the day here, who’s most likely to end up together?”

Your eyes widened and darted to Rudy’s, before you both looked to your friends. All of them were making heart hands at the two of you while grinning devilishly. The blood rushed to your cheeks at their antics and you squeezed your eyes for a second shut as you smiled.

“Well I guess the cat’s out of the bag for everyone now, huh?” Rudy said as he passed a hand through his hair. He ducked over to give you a kiss on the cheek and flash you a grin.

“C‘mon, you guys are too cute together to keep it a secret!” Madison exclaimed.

“Yep, Madison’s right, guys,” Chase said, Madi and JD agreeing.

“Alright, alright!” You pulled out your phone and opened up your instagram, pulling Rudy over to you for a kiss as you snapped a picture of it. You tapped away at your keyboard as your friends “Awwwed” in the background. Rudy read the caption over your shoulder.

“well, it’s official now. @rudeth and i are dating 🥰”

After sliding your phone back into your pocket, you grabbed your boyfriend’s hand and laced your fingers with his.

“So I think we win the ‘Cutest Couple’ award, sorry guys,” Rudy said solemnly as he nodded to Chase and Madilyn, smiling at the giggles coming from you.

“Hell yeah we do.”

tags + moots ~ @joshy-obx @jjsredhat @jjsbxtch @jjsmaybcnk @drewswannabegirl @starksweasley @starlightstarkey @stargazingstarkey @aesthetic-lyss @shawnssongs @futuretaxcheat @overly-b

#rudy pankow #rudy x reader #obx x reader #obx cast #outer banks imagine #outerbanks #outer banks #obx jj #jj maybank obx #jj x reader #jj obx imagine #obx fic #obx imagine #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank

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morganaseren · 3 years

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WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far.

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you."

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

#Dragon Age: Inquisition #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #fanfic #My writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #female cousland/bethany hawke

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lunarianborn · 3 years

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☾ @roseofbaron: aloe, belladonna, chrysanthemum, gladiolus, hydrangea, lavender, magnolia, oak, sage, zinnia ☽ BOTANICAL HCS : accepting

aaahh a true bouquet ! watch me doing all of these I haven’t replied to yet because, one i’m thirsty for more chances to throw hcs at the dash, two the meme is good and all the questions are pretty interesting, tysm <3

belladonna : how does your muse respond to silence ? do they take comfort in soundlessness , or seek to fill the void with noise ?

He responds to silence quite well and always seemed to do as such, he enjoys peace and quiet and always did ever since he was a child. Having been raised inside a king’s castle must have been quite the experience for him, as a kid -- for it would rarely be completely silent and quiet as an ambience. Between meetings, feasts, banquets and all ceremonies and occasions pertaining to a monarch’s life, and Cecil growing up there from the very start, I can’t imagine him having the chance to enjoy silent spaces much; still -- ! his bedchambers reside on the west tower, the highest of the castle, away from sources of noise. It’s quite the solitary place too, away from the main halls, engulfed in silence basically all the time; having been its resident from childhood, Cecil grew to tolerate the tranquility it could offer him - while studying, while reading or thinking, or even practicing with his sword.

I’d call it comfort, simply because that’s the way he always lived. This doesn’t mean Cecil doesn’t enjoy the lively atmosphere a mundane / royal life could offer him, but being the reserved and quiet person himself, I see him enjoying peace more.

chrysanthemum : how does your muse express romantic love ? how do they feel about love as a concept ?

If Cecil represented a romantic concept, I’d say he could as well be courtly love personified. And I know it may sound boring and oh so called for, but I MEAN. He’s Cecil. A knight in a medieval setting who is feeling, at first, that he cannot be with the girl he loves for whatever reasons, that saves her life and rescues her from her kidnappers, to swear unending love by the end of the tale. A classic, Cecil would be a classic haha. So, I guess the term courtly love partly fits him.

By courtly love, though, I don’t refer to the literary or epic kind; he’d simply find love as a form of pure devotion, not assuming control of his heart in an impetuous or rebellious way -- which is nice regardless, he’s a kind type of lover, courteous indeed. For example, when he used to be a Dark Knight, he was not expected to stay with the one he loved; instead of rebelling against such rule, he simply accepted it, bowing his head for the ‘greater good’ and for peace and in the name of traditions; BU,T in his heart, he was still in love. And the feeling is there to stay...

Canonly, by what Kain says in the novel, actually, it seemed Rosa was the one to take the first step, when she started ‘looking at Cecil in a way she never did’, presumably when they were young teens. Cecil, at some point, with age, did come to realize he too felt something more for her; the curious thing, though, is that they never actually confessed. Maybe, true courtly love would have the knight confessing his passion, but Cecil doesn’t. He misses the chance and things get worse when he gets knighted a Dark Knight, at 15yos, the age where Baronian kids seem to reach adulthood officially. No, he kept the true nature of his feelings for himself, despite the truth being rumored and known. Kain knew it, Rosa’s mother suspected it, everyone could have seen it.

So, in these terms, it’s safe to assume Cecil keeps being the soft-spoken, tranquil lover. He doesn’t reveal his feelings if not at the very end, because he fears what it’d mean for the other’s reputation and honor -- those are pretty important things, for he would not tolerate himself or his love to be cause of pain or struggle. And so, being the reserved kind, he’d resort to subtle ways to express love, to court someone. Lingering gazes, gifts, to try and spend most of his spare time with them... you know he’d try to play or sing something, he’s no bard but he is the type.

Love is devotion and its shades and sides to permeate his life. Love for his partner, for his home, for his child, and for his brother too, nonetheless. He commits to it and seeks to protect it at all costs, sometimes even resulting as a bit oppressing -- but he’s on the purest and best intentions whenever that happens. Love is bliss. For someone who believed all his life to having been abandoned by his family, he finds the concept of love to be light incarnate too. After all, hadn’t his father loved him so, he wouldn’t have never become a paladin eheh

gladiolus : describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget.

One moment he’d never forget must definitely be the day when he officially went from being a squire to a knight. The same ancient trial all boys of Baron, while hoping to enlist into its military ranks, must partake at the coming of their 15th birthday - the same one Ceodore insists being part of, despite his title as prince. The task is not as simple as one would believe, especially for a kid so young and barely skilled with the true art of the sword: he must enter a cave, grab the so-called Emblem of Knighthood inside, defeat its guardian and emerge victorious, a true knight to Baron.

No child is told of said guardian though, it usually being a big sandworm trained to react and attack whenever anyone is about to pick the emblem. And, even better, no kid is told the famous emblem is nothing more than a mummified rat’s tail.

Eager to prove his worth, Cecil waited for the fated day with high expectations and premises, only to almost risk his life against the sandworm. He doesn’t remember much of that fight, but he does recall the final blow at the beast’s hellish muzzle and the initial disappointment in finding the tail; but the moment he returned home, to be officially and solemnly invested a knight by the King, -- ceremony followed by a banquet and feast, as tradition commands, especially for residents of the castle -- everything changed.

It was a big deal. The boy that always felt a foreigner, one of the very few lucky one to have been granted so much for so little in return, does finally feel part of the city, of its community and its military ranks. Plus, his adventure in the cave was a good story to tell companions and friends !

hydrangea : how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ? are they prone to being misunderstood ?

Quite a lot, but he wasn’t very skilled with words when very young. He got better as years passed, but his character too didn’t make things easier; he thinks communication is the basis of every sane and good relationships. Even in-game and ‘in-novel’, with Rydia, the first thing he does, when fleeing with her to Kaipo, is to try and communicate. To console her, to cheer her up the best he could -- despite the child’s reluctance and silence.

Even as king, he found the importance of communication to reign over mostly all of his relationships -- from work, to family. I’d say his toughest challenge on that front came from his son and his character, his ideas and projects for his own future; while on a side it makes him happy to see Ceodore growing up so sure of his own thoughts, despite his title and familiar ties, it also pains him to not being able to speak as much / of what he’d like to him (heart-to-heart types of conversations, I mean - in the novel, Ceodore admits he never saw his father weak or tired, and that they never talked much of very personal matters).

I don’t think he would be easily misunderstood though. He learnt how to act as a leader early on, and the role only got enforced once king. He is supposed to be clear, and he’s supposed to be listened to, especially when his role(s) demands him to be.

lavender : how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ? once their trust is broken , how might one go about mending it ?

It’s quite easy, honestly. He tends to see the brightness and positivity in everyone he comes to know - especially during his journey, and tends to form bonds of trust when felt or necessary. It’s not that rare, honestly, the only true exceptions come from individuals who are obviously ill-mannered or plain evil and suspicious !

And it takes a lot to break his trust. Overall, he’s a very pure man, trying to find light even when it is scarce indeed -- he’s a good man. When Kain does take the last Underworld’s Dark Crystal to give it to Golbez, everyone in the group starts doubting him again. And yet, Cecil doesn’t give up on him (and remember it’s the second time he gets ‘betrayed’ -- although the novel explains what is really going on inside Kain’s head, and by that point, he was just acting as a bait...) and tries to think of why Kain had “betrayed them again”. He even omits to tell Giott of it, in fear Kain would have been branded a traitor and sentenced.

“Cecil told him everything. Of how they had successfully reached it [the Crystal], and of how Golbez had appeared to rob it. He never mentioned Kain’s involvement. Although he had betrayed them, he still believed there was good in Kain’s heart. He considered him a friend nonetheless, and believed the darkness to have gained control of his mind, back in the cave. He didn’t wish for him to be called and considered a traitor.”

magnolia : describe your muse’s relationship with nature & the natural world.

It’s ironic, because Cecil -- hadn’t his parents died before having the chance to meet and raise him like they partly did for Theodor, would have grown up in a small woodcutters-like village amidst the forests next to Mysidia. Baron too is surrounded by green plains, lakes and rivers, it’s beautiful to see - truly, but he didn’t have much time or dedication to spare to the city’s surroundings. As a child, perhaps, he could have hoped to train or venture outside the city’s walls more often. Since a chocobo forest is nearby, I like to think Baron youth do actually learn to ride the birds out in the open, where there’s plenty of space and green to practice.

Being son of Kluya, the very Lunarian who introduced magic to humans, I think Cecil was born with a natural aptitude for magic; his legacy as a knight didn’t allow him to put those hidden qualities into any practical use, and the few white magic spells he knows as a Paladin are, also, rather weak (which is, ironically, the complete opposite of Golbez’s case). To hone one’s own magic, the user has to have a connection with the natural world, which is the primary source of energy needed to cast spells. This is why I think, albeit having little chances and few true opportunities to venture outside for leisure - Cecil has a subtle, inborn link with nature (as many mages do too) and would find great pleasure in nature and its joys.

oak : who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?

I believe he’d see Cid as one of the strongest people he’s ever known, even before the whole ordeal narrated through the game and his ‘sacrifice’ could be the nail sealing the whole deal, here. Having been raised without true parental figure, it is easy to understand why a child like him could have found comfort and warmth in such the extrovert man -- Cid acted like a father to him and never truly stopped, haha, he’s even there offering moral support (and some doses of panic too) when Cecil is literally becoming a father. Despite Cid having a family of his own, and a daughter too, he showered Cecil with attention and affection, like a true father would have...

I could argue Cecil did see a rather strong presence and soul in the late King of Baron, for very similar reasons. Minus the affection part (due to maybe king’s duties, prejudices, Cecil being a ward and not the UMM probably-long-lost-son-of-the-king’s-teen-crush, not officially at least) I believe, the two men are seen both in the highest regards from the man, he would manage to choose one between them. They both possess a spirit of sacrifice for the greater good, admirable values (till Cagnazzo enters the stage, at least) and morale, and both served as cardinal points for Cecil’s growth and childhood.

sage : what is your muse’s legacy ? what do they want to be remembered for & what might they actually be remembered for ?

Cecil is such a humble man, I doubt he would ever think stuff like ‘ah yes, and I’ll do this so that everyone will remember me for it’. But for everything he has accomplished and done for Baron, for the one he loved and from himself too, it is inevitable his name will long keep ringing in bards’ songs and in his people’s tales long after his life is spent. His legacy is Baron itself. The restored town, with its ancient monarchy and the promise of the star not being threatened anymore by the ambitions of a wicked Lunarian. His is a legacy of bountiful peace and prosperity, worthy of his courage and of all the pain he had to endure because of it.

Cecil also carries the hopes and dreams of his other people, the Lunarians. He incarnate all that is good and hopeful in such a difference race, not to mention - with hi brother, he is in fact the incarnation of their union (after all, Lunarians saw humans were still developing and growing, and felt their technological prowess and knowledge could have altered their natural evolution and development if forced upon them through cohabitation -- so they never truly invaded Gaia and remained on the artificial second moon, promising to find a way to coexist together only when humans would have reached their same intellectual level.)

He wouldn’t want to be remembered anyway else. He’s a brave knight, a loyal friend and a just king. It may not seem as much, but it is plenty enough for one of the savior of the star, haha! Which is also the cause of such big expectations being placed on Ceodore’s shoulders so early on too... it’s sad to think about, actually.

zinnia : how has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ? has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

I think the losses made him more aware of the big role he had to, willingly or not, play for the salvation of what he held dear, and of the star. From the King being made puppet of a hellish demon, his body tossed unceremoniously in a hidden room on a mocking fake throne... to Yang and Cid temporarily disappearing and being believed dead... the twins turning into stone to save the other’s life... Tellah, but also the found truth about his father and mother’s deaths (novel explains that, for the longest time, Cecil believed to have been abandoned in the woods as an unwanted child... it’s heartbreaking, really, for he is sure of it and even says he doesn’t blame his mother for it. When he finds out she died of childbirth he is devastated also for having thought such a thing about her...) all shaped him into the rather firm young man he is by the end of the story.

And while not a loss per se, Golbez leaving the star to join Lunarians in the sleep and Kain disappearing for almost 15 years after the events of the game also happen to be strong moments for Cecil as well -- yes, almost as strong as true deaths would impact him and his psyche.

The sheer fear of losing his family and friends shapes him to the point he straight up refused at first to have the girls, especially Rosa, follow him back on the moon. The love for what he cannot ever afford to lose is what brings the light in his empty husk, during After Years, to defend Rosa and Ceodore before his ‘shadow-dark-knight self’. The tragedies, the scares and the moments of grief he lived through did make him a more responsible individual, a better fighter and even a more devoted man than he who was already; simply because that’s his entire world, and to know of his loved ones being safe is his true main concern...

#▐┊ headcanon.#roseofbaron #[ this took me TOO LONG but ]#[ i appreciate this bouquet aaa ]#[ and all chances to gush out my cecil hcs ;__; ]#[ so ty sooooo soo much aaa <3 ]#long post under cut omg #[ this is why it took months HHH jk... ]

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dowonist-blog · 5 years

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tag dump!

#✶ ⋯ › worst criminal ever stops running from cops to pet cat | ⌜ aesthetic ⌟#✶ ⋯ › it looks a whole lot like hell from here | ⌜ asks ⌟#✶ ⋯ › error: no identity | ⌜ headcanon ⌟#✶ ⋯ › i solemnly swear i am not going to die | ⌜ meme ⌟#✶ ⋯ › never trust a survivor until you know what they did to survive | ⌜ musing ⌟#✶ ⋯ › it speaks! | ⌜ ooc ⌟#✶ ⋯ › am i more than you bargained for yet? | ⌜ paras ⌟#✶ ⋯ › i don't want to be just a number | ⌜ solo ⌟#✶ ⋯ › does this unit have a soul? | ⌜ visual ⌟

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kyliwrites · 4 years

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the exit's the other way

ship: davekat (no quadrant/all quadrants; established relationship)

prompt: "you know what!? fuck you. i'm out of here."

"*name.*"

"WHAT?!"

"the exit's the other way."

setting: earth c (canon universe/post-canon, no epilogues)

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are just the absolute god damned best at riling loud, insufferable aliens up to the brink of delirious rage. Because the way their gray cheeks flush and their eyes darken is so perfectly entertaining, you take it upon yourself to annoy them into paradox space and back.

Karkat, for example. All it takes is the bare minimum of poking and prodding at his favorite romcom actor and SHABAM. Little guy's all fuming and everything; you can see the puffs of smoke coming out his ears and the attractive way his fangs slide out over his lips. He's glaring in that wide-eyed furious way of his, anger hot enough to brand you right on the asscheek like a motherfucking cow. Moo, bitch.

You hardly insulted him, but Karkat's like that: hypersensitive, petty, an asshole, totally adorable when he's mad. He's got his flaws (who doesn't?), but with you, he doesn't try so hard to cover them up. You love him all the more for that.

Presently, he's ranting about the flaws and inaccuracies of some human film you alchemized into existence for him, and he's been doing so for approximately four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. You haven't been paying much attention, if you're being honest, because you've been too busy mentally recounting everything else about those four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Why? Narrative reasons, yo.

You tune in at the last second and catch his metaphorical hands instead of the hilariously unironic picking apart of whichever movie you picked for him (you can't even remember at this point; you've spent all three years since the game ended finding progressively shittier films, if only so you can experience the pleasure that is Karkat's ranting).

"-and are you even FUCKING listening, douchenozzle!?" Comes Karkat's infuriated, raspy interjection. It throws you bodily from your thoughts, and you blink from behind your shades in an effort to clear your head.

"Nah," you answer honestly once you've regained your bearing. "Shit got more boring than watching American football with the boys on a rainy Saturday night. Dude goes in for a tackle and skids across the field tragically. Eight jocks in a row go flying and it's like a god damn bowling alley up in this bitch. The boys start swearing like some motherfuckers, but you, a renowned Football Connoisseur, shake your head solemnly rather than go batshit insane over the slip-n-slide conga line like, you know, a normal person. Football people, bro. No humor. No sense of irony."

"I understood approximately FUCKALL OF THAT, asshole. Speak English or Alternian, thanks a whole fucking lot. What gog damn language was that!?" Karkat looks you up and down with a scrunched up expression, as if deciding where to maim you first. You straighten involuntarily underneath his gaze.

"...S'called Texan, m'dude."

He recoils melodramatically. "Texan!? Is that a joke or some bullshit? Some kind of dead language you somehow learned? Where the fuck is the TEXAN and who came up with a name that hideous and disgusting?"

"No, Karks," you wheeze. "Texas. The people from Texas are Texans."

"Why do I care about your overcomplicated alien linguistics!? Answer my question, Strider," he demands, crossing his arms. His nails, bitten down yet still sharp and threatening, dig into his sweater.

"I'm from Texas, dude. You know how there were, like, different dialects on y'all's murderplanet? English is kind of like that. Texans have huge accents and are famous for being racists, people from Jersey are famous for being the shittiest people, Alabamians marry their relatives, etcetera etcetera."

After a moment of thought, Karkat nods seriously and says, "That explains why you're such a xenophobe."

You choke. Of all the things you'd been expecting him to say, it definitely wasn't that. You reply eloquently:

"W-what!?"

"You heard me. You fucking space racist."

"Oh my jesus shit, rude," you protest vehemently. "I am not space racist." Not anymore, at least.

Karkat flashes a rare fanged grin at you, his eyebrows lifted, and you realize he's only joking. The smile is gone as soon as it came, one of those blink-and-you-miss-it gifts. "Space racist." He nudges you with one elbow. You nudge him back.

"Dude," you say, "don't make this a thing."

He pushes you forcefully, hard enough for you to have to grip the arm of the sofa you're sitting atop to remain seated, in response. Oh, it is on.

You tackle him and he lets out a paralyzed squawk when you roll off the couch and into the floor. He lands on his back with an "oof," and you pin him down by the shoulders. He bares his teeth, but the smile breaking out over his face ruins the effect.

"Get off me, asshat, I'll fucking kneecap you," he barks, still grinning like an idiot.

"You won't." You're grinning like an idiot, too, to be fair, except yours is more fond than shit-eating. Dave Strider, maximum sap. Whod've thunk.

He surges forward suddenly, without warning, and uses his legs to flip you onto your back; it knocks all the air out of you, but you manage a cackle and a "fuck you" anyway. He pins your arms above your head and sits on your chest.

"Say fucking uncle, Strider."

"That's not how that game works!" You wheeze. "You don't even know what an uncle is!" He smirks—the sight makes your heart flutter like the cat getting showered in affection meme. The thought distracts you and you briefly ponder making a Karkat version, but you aren't given the reins to think very long because he flicks your nose.

"Ow! Dickhead, that hurt—"

"Dickhead yourself! Your fucking bony ribs are digging into my ass!" He wrinkles his nose and shifts, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

"What ass?" You demand in jest, which is the worst thing someone pinned beneath the person they are making fun of could possibly say. He narrows his eyes and you manage a "shit wait no" before he snatches his hands away.

You've lived together for all of three years, four months, and seventeen days. He knows your weaknesses as well as he knows his own, your fears, your discomforts. He knows what you like, love, and hate. He knows when to push and when not to push. He gets you better than anyone, even your own psychoanalytic twin sister (you'll have to blame that one on the fact that she and her wife don't leave their house unless they're going to the alien procreation cave).

So, that's why he decides to tickle you. Because he knows you throw an absolute shitfit when it comes to being tickled.

You hunch your shoulders when his hands descend upon you and try to roll yourself into a tight, impenetrable ball to escape his fingers, but he's fucking relentless. He knows how sensitive you are; it's the perfect revenge.

In between your wheezing laughs, you can barely manage words, but you cough out a "dude," "bro," and "dudebro," then, finally, "Karkat," before he pauses, rasps, "You did this to yourself," and raises his hands threateningly again.

You blurt, "Uncle! I'll say uncle just don't do it please dude I have never done anything wrong ever you know this right? I—"

He leans forward, silencing you. "Take that bullshit you said first back, Strider, or your plea to your human familial figure is null."

"Fine! Fine, I take it back. Listen, bro. You definitely don't not have an ass. Like, in fact, that ass is so ripe I can't believe anyone would ever accuse you of not having one. That's so fucking disrespectful. How dare those blind motherfuckers? I'm waving my fists at them right now. I will singlehandedly smite all Karkat's assphobes, my man. I'll raise my assphobe smiting trident and pulverize all these thotass sons of bitches right here, right now. I'll do it, I will. I'm no coward. I'll protect that magnificent rear with everything I have, dude. Those glorious buns. The assnihilator—"

"Shut the fuck up oh my gog I can't believe I fucking brought this upon myself." Karkat rolls off of you and clutches said glorious buns. Apparently your ribs really did hurt his ass. Huh.

"You did bring it upon yourself," you agree. And then, because you still aren't done pushing his buttons and want to be an insufferable piece of shit, "So, you didn't say what you thought of the movie."

He opens his mouth, clamps it shut hard enough for his teeth to clank together, repeats the motion a couple of times. "I—Dave—You fucking—No. You know what? Fuck you. I'm out of here."

You burst into the horrid laughter of a hyena when he scrambles to his feet in one furious motion; he's back to grumpy scowling and cussing you out in the amount of time it takes for the underpaid McDonald's employee working the back of the store to flip a shitty one hundred percent not-beef burger patty.

He stomps heavily away—in the direction of the kitchen, you note, which only makes you cackle harder when you realize he didn't do it on purpose.

"Oh my fucking jesus god. Karkat!"

"WHAT!?" He yells without facing you.

"The exit's the other way."

He comes to an abrupt halt, slowly turns around, and begins marching back, in the right direction this time.

You're too busy flailing on the couch (you can't even remember pulling yourself back onto it) to give a shit when he throws himself down beside you. You do, however, give tons of shits when he pulls you into a very exasperated smooch that simply screams "shut the FUCK up you absolute godless heathen of a space monkey."

You are not opposed to "shut the FUCK up you absolute godless heathen of a space monkey" smooches.

He draws back and rolls his eyes. "Are you done yet, bulgemuncher?"

You are, as established many times, an insufferable piece of shit, so you say, "Dunno. Do I get to kiss you again?"

"Not with that attitude you don't."

You kiss him anyway, because god dammit he's your boyfriend and you demand kissing rights. He doesn't protest; instead, he wraps his arms around your neck and relaxes, just a little.

You could stay in his arms forever, you think.

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #fluff #no epilogues #homestuck #fic

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lilfellasblog · 5 years

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Knight in Shining Armor - Roman’s 2019 Birthday Fic!

Summary: When Thomas has an allergic reaction, Virgil’s anxiety gets stuck on high-alert. Will he have to face it alone?Hello! Despite how the summary makes it sound, this is actually a fic for Roman Creativity Sander’s birthday! Happy birthday to the dramatic, passionate Side that inspires Thomas and keeps him going!

A/N: If you like this please reblog. It is the only way for this writing to reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Minor allergic reaction, anxiety, feeling of breathlessness that comes from anxiety. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1741

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Earlier that morning, Thomas had woken up at his friend’s house after a bit too wild of a night. He had groaned and stretched, trying and failing to open his eyes past the searing headache, when he felt weight drop on his chest.

His eyes slammed open and he was face-to-face with a very fluffy cat.

“Oh my goodness!” Thomas cooed as he brought his hand up. He let the cat smell his hand, then started gently petting its head and neck. The cat was a light gray color with yellow eyes and a very poofy tail.

“Aren’t you such a good kitty?” Thomas gushed.

The cat laid down on him and stretched, accepting more head scritches. Thomas couldn’t stop himself from booping the cat’s nose, but he immediately went back to petting. Soon enough, however, his immune system had something to say. He barely got his arm over his nose and mouth in time for him to sneeze.

The cat was entirely nonplussed and simply looked at him as if to say, “Why did you stop petting me?”

Thomas gently picked up the cat and deposited it on the ground. He stood up, gripping his head, and made his way to the bathroom to get some water and ibuprofen in his system. Might have to see if they have benadryl, I can already feel my nose getting stuffy.

////

Virgil was panicking. Thomas had been exposed to a cat, right after he had woken up, for an extended period of time, and was already having his airways close. Logically, Virgil knew that Thomas probably wasn’t going to go into anaphylactic shock, but what if he did?!

Virgil was keeping a very close eye on his own breathing. He didn’t feel like his airway was obstructed or swollen, but he did feel like he had to focus on taking deep breathes or else his lungs would start burning. He tried his breathing exercises, to no avail. Virgil was relieved when the benadryl kicked in for Thomas and his symptoms disappeared fairly quickly, but Virgil still couldn’t get enough air. He felt like he was constantly yawning or deeply sighing. It just felt like he wasn’t getting oxygen into his lungs!

He knew that it was going to be difficult to act normally around the other Sides. Patton was the center of Thomas’ emotional intelligence, Logan was ridiculously smart and observant, and Roman was very sensitive to how others were acting around him. Resigned to suffering alone in his room for the rest of the day, he flopped on his bed and scrolled through Tumblr. He had days like this; where he’d feel like his lungs weren’t working properly and that he’d have to gulp air just to feel like he wasn’t out of breath. It usually dissipated by the next morning. Virgil knew it was his anxiety, but knowing that only helped so much. He wasn’t going to have a panic attack over thinking he had methemoglobinemia or was going into anaphylactic shock, but his brain was still telling him that he was dying.

Virgil tried focusing on the various memes and shitposts that made up his Tumblr feed, but he wasn’t enjoying it at all. He was thrumming with anxious energy. When 3 PM rolled around, Virgil was exhausted and miserable. He wanted his anxiety to just fucking stop, to let him be a neurotypical person who could cure their sadness by walking outside or whatever shit, but no, his neurotransmitters decided that their role was to make his existence miserable. Was it so much to ask to just be able to breathe and have a normal day?!

Virgil threw his phone on the bed in frustration and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. He heard excited knocking coming from his door.

“Virgil, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance! May I request thy presence for a quest?”

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Sorry Princey, I’m not feeling too hot today. Maybe another time.”

There was silence at his door, and Virgil was relieved and sad that Roman had left.

“A new quest then! Perhaps I can interest you in a distraction?”

Virgil considered that. He wasn’t getting much better laying here in his room, but he could barely catch his breath as it was! How could he last during one of Princey’s quests?!

Virgil let out a groan. “Fine, but only if you promise there’s little to no physical activity.”

“I swear it.” Roman said way too solemnly. Virgil huffed a silent laugh to himself. Roman’s extra dial is stuck at 300%.

Virgil got himself up, made sure he had his phone and headphones, and opened the door. Roman was looking at him as though he didn’t expect Virgil to actually come out.

“Virgil, my dark knight! How may I be of service to you?”

Virgil shuffled. “I don’t know.” he mumbled. He really didn’t know how Roman could help him.

“That’s quite alright! I’m sure I can… imagine something.” Roman said with an excited smile and waggle of his brows.

“Did you just make a Patton joke?”

“Why yes I did!”

“Not very creative.”

Roman let out an offended Princey noise and Virgil snorted. Roman led the way to his room, not touching Virgil. He had learned that when Virgil’s anxiety was acting up, touch didn’t feel very good for him.

Roman opened the massive doors to his room and Virgil noticed that it was slightly darker than usual. The only light came from candles, fairy lights, and a sunset in the Imagination that was shining through the window.

“We could play Scrabble, we could watch movies, I even have a PS4 set up in here!”

Virgil bobbed his head as he looked around. He needed a distraction, so,

“Scrabble?”

Roman swept his arm to the fireplace (that has GOT to be a fire hazard) and directed Virgil to one of the armchairs. Unlike the other armchairs, it was black with silver metal accents, as opposed to the red chairs with gold and brown accents. That little detail almost made Virgil tear up.

Almost. He had a reputation to maintain dammit.

Roman grabbed two mugs of jasmine tea seemingly from out of nowhere and set one in front of Virgil, along with a plate of finger sandwiches. They played several rounds of Scrabble, with Virgil winning the first one by a narrow margin and Roman winning the second by an equally narrow margin. They got about halfway through the third game before Virgil decided to try eating some of the finger sandwiches. They were good. Virgil ate enough so he wasn’t hungry anymore but no more than that. He didn’t want another lecture from Patton about ruining his appetite. Although to be fair, this was probably healthier than Cheetos dipped in cream cheese, right?

Virgil irritatingly brushed his fringe out of his eyes for approximately the 70th time that minute and huffed in annoyance.

“Would you like the assistance of an expert hairstylist fair maiden?”

Virgil saw excitement barely being held at bay in the royal’s eyes. His skin didn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore, and he could use some help…

“Sure.”

“Wonderful! Come into my bathroom, I have everything we’ll need in there.”

Virgil threw one more finger sandwich into his mouth, chugged the rest of his tea, and followed the royal.

Roman’s bathroom was an amalgamation of every bathroom Thomas had seen in his life that made him think “Oh pretty!”. Walking past a clawfoot bathtub that was in the exact center of the bathroom for whatever reason Virgil was sat down in a chair facing a vanity. The mirror was lined in lightbulbs.

Fit for a star.

Roman tousled Virgil’s hair, staring at it in concentration. After running his hands through it a few more times, he went to his vanity.

“Your hair has enough grease in it to make hairspray not as effective, and we really don’t have a good hair type for hair gel. I was thinking of putting some dry shampoo in and adding hairspray?”

Virgil shrugged. “Whatever you think will work best.”

“Excellent! I shall begin right away.”

Virgil let his mind drift a bit as Roman fussed over his hair. Roman had personalized his room just for Virgil’s sake and put his whole heart into doing whatever it was Virgil wanted to do. All because Virgil was being a useless puddle of anxiety on his bed and decided he couldn’t breathe and avoided the others. He had even made sure Virgil was hydrated and had something to eat, and Virgil hadn’t even gone on the quest Roman wanted to go on, and-

“Done! What do you think?”

Virgil tore himself away from his thoughts and looked in the mirror. It… looked good. For only using dry shampoo and hairspray, it was damn impressive. It had some volume and stayed out of his eyes, but was still draping down enough to keep the emo vibe alive.

Roman was chewing on his lip and staring at Virgil in the mirror with wide eyes.

“Thanks Ro. I really like it. It’s really good.”

Roman’s smile lit up the entire room and Virgil swore it got a few degrees warmer.

“I’m very glad you like it Virgil! My skills are unmatched!” he declared with a flourish.

Virgil chuckled as they heard knocking on Roman’s door.

“Kiddos! Dinner!”

Virgil and Roman began to shuffle out of his room when Virgil realized something: he could breathe again.

He felt a lump in his throat beginning to form against his wishes. Roman heard Virgil stop walking and turned around. Upon seeing the expression on Virgil’s face, his brows knitted together.

“Virgil? Is something the matter?”

Virgil laughed wetly. “No Princey, I just… thank you.” he breathed out.

Roman smiled. “Of course. It is my pleasure to help you Virgil.” he paused, looking slightly hesitant. “Would you like a hug?”

Virgil nodded and walked into Roman’s waiting arms. Roman held him tightly, showing the strength hidden beneath the prince uniform, but not too tightly. He had his face buried in Virgil hair and was breathing in the scent of hairspray and dry shampoo. After a good 30-second hug, they separated. Virgil was looking down and blushing slightly and Roman was smiling, a blush also covering his cheekbones, but instead of embarrassment in his eyes there were stars.

“L-let’s go to supper.” Virgil muttered.

“Very well. Let’s.”

#sanders sides #fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #anxiety #thomas sanders #fic #fanfiction #ts sides

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