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magnum-caelum · 1 month

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*takes the Iyare siblings and puts them in a Situation*

tags: @mocha-bunbun @tiredsleep

tw for blood, death, recurring mentions of an open wound

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There's so much blood. Too much blood.

Kaia's numb as she puts pressure on the wound, more and more pressure. Her mind is a faraway thing, a distant observer. She hears as though submerged in water, her eyes wide but unseeing.

Am I in shock? But she doesn't care enough. Vaguely, she hears her voice, loud and piercing, commanding someone to order a medic, commanding others to gather clean cloths and a basin of water, boiled or not. Stitches-- so needle and thread, and ointment, and more cloths, more water, everything.

"Kaia," and the word from the wounded boy at her side is enough to pull her to reality like a cold jolt.

"I'm here," her voice is suddenly soft. She can hear the disbelief in her voice, can hear the careful mask torn away to reveal the fear underneath. "I'm here."

She forces her gaze up, away from the fatal wound and to Kayron's eyes. Her entire body shakes with adrenaline, with a need to do something but unable to do anything. What can anyone do in the face of Death's blind sword?

He's looking at her, face white with pain that isn't entirely physical.

He knows thinks he's going to die.

"You're-you're-you're going to live, Kayron, okay? There's- there's help on the way, you-"

"I'm sorry, Kaia."

Another pour of ice-cold desperation.

"What are you- what are you saying?" And now Kaia's voice is ringed with tears, wobbly and messy and, oh, they were only children.

Kayron smiles weakly. "You were- always the strong one, you know that, yeah?"

He coughs, grimacing when his wound tenses.

"Spirits, Kai. I'm so sorry."

Kaia would shut him up if she could. She'd tell him to stop talking, tell him to stop being stupid, to save his strength and focus on resting, but her throat is clogged, and some miserable part of her thinks to let him say what he wants to say. This might be the last time he gets to say these things at all.

Instead, Kaia presses a trembling hand to Kayron's cheek as her vision blurs with tears.

"I should have been stronger for you. I should have protected you better. You shouldn't have had to suffer so much. I'm so sorry, Kaia. Can you forgive me? Forgive your brother for being weak."

No, no, Kayron. You have it all wrong.

"Kay- no- no. I-I could be strong because of you. What am I without you?"

Kayron leans into Kaia's hand, squeezing his eyes shut. His breathing comes shorter, and his eyebrows draw tight with agony. Now he's crying too, quietly.

"Oh, Kai. I don't want to die. I'm not ready to die."

His eyes flutter back open, a little more unfocused than they were, that half-smile of his still offering her comfort.

"I don't want to die. If I die, you- you'll be all alone. Oh, Kaia."

Her heart wretches, each beat painful, as though they were linked to her brother's.

"Please don't go, Kayron."

"Please don't ask me to stay, Kaia."

More pressure. Live. Live!

"Kayron, I love you."

"And you know I always loved you."

When Kayron's chest fails to rise, Kaia falls, draping her body over her brother's. She cries freely, her arms hold his body tight against hers.

Kaia screams for the first time in her life. It claws itself up from the depths of her heart and tears her throat with blood and Kaia screams.

But perhaps the sun will be kinder to us tomorrow.

#> write: constellation of twin blades

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theinsanityofacreative · 3 months

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I have so much of my own shit going on but if I don't do anything I don't think I'll ever forgive myself.

I'm opening up my commissions and every single purchase that I get is going straight to charity to free Palestine. I don't have the funds to do it on my own which is the only reason I'm even asking this much of you. You can find my commission details pinned on my account. I take Kofi and Venmo.

And I'm sorry that I'm clogging this important tag with this. I promise every penny is going to them. Please help me find good charities to fund.

#free palestine

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carass1us-aur4tus · 23 days

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I'm not going to tag this, just because I don't think it's worth drawing attention from main tags/clogging them, but my thanks to the 2.1 release, because this Trailblaze Quest has given me inspiration. (I hope the OG Aventurine enjoyers forgive me after this 😔 I'm sorry I hated your boy first I was just bitter about no Sampo </3)

Just a little quote that I've been enjoying thinking about, from an older (canonically and in real life) OC of mine.

"“Focus on fixing your own wings, little peacock,” [is her reply.] “When you finally learn to fly, you can remind this old canary what it feels like.”"

#celeste has been around since before star rail even release in real life #but when 2.1 released #the parallels i saw between her and aventurine #i couldn't not give them an interaction or three #this silly little ipc guy #years and years her junior #healing to her very core traumas #wild. hats off to the way they fucking wrote aventurine's pov.#the etymology is... you couldve not chosen a word like that for the planet name #dumbass ipc bastard packed to the brim with trauma #dont forget topaz though. she is also full of traumas. and just as gorgeous #do NOT forget my girl in this madness #okay logging off the blr for today #if youve scrolled down this far in the tags i love you and i hope you always have enough money for your favourite snacks #goodnight <3

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its-my-whump · 6 months

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Whumptober 31 End?

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Hummingbird 31

(All the TWs still apply: emotional whump, gore, confusion, drugged, despair, aftermath of self-harm.

Have to admit, over my personal journey throughout whumptober I had to realise I'm actually a creep. I didn't know, that I could tap into this genre of a creepy, manipulating, lying, emotional disfuncting whumper and that I do like to write about it sooo much.

Apparently I'm a creep, creeping myself out for being this creepy, that's just mad and y'know creepy.

For what it's worth. I'm sorry, Sam! Thankyou for reading, reblogging and liking. I hope you had some fun! So enough blabbering for now, please enjoy.)

Whole story starts here, if you like / previous

...

Only very shallow, but Sam was still breathing when Grey pressed his slack form into a bridal carry against his own chest and made long brisk steps into the ER.

Grey was sitting alone in the hallway. He couldn't share the waitingroom with all these desasterous creatures. This was about his hummingbird. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, not constantly interruped by someone grabbing for a tissue, someone else clearing their throat, a child rustling a sweetswrapper, a toddler crying.

There was still a slight red shimmer under his own fingernails and inbetween the skin folds on his hands. He literally wasn't able to clean his hands from the blood of his little precious mess.

This was his fault. He was selfish. Caging his hummingbird, as delecate as he was, cutting his wings and then he let just him fade as a pink. Unintended, but that wasn't narrowing his guilt. For all he cared, it was fueling it.

The man was staring into a cup of coffee. The taste of it was as blend as his emotions. The former Doc Monty wanted to throw that ugly stuff against the wall.

He wanted to smag his boy for doing this to him and than he wanted to wrap him in an embrace and never let go. His eyes felt wet.

Someone settle on the chair beside him. It was a young nurse. She mimicked his posture and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees.

"He's in good hands." Her voice was sincere.

Grey swallowed, he turned the cup between his long fingers. Suddenly, it felt too heavy, he was afraid, he would drop it at any moment.

And then, finally a part of his burdon unleashed.

"You know, he's got a recently discovered heartcondition above all. But his psychosis, he's got for almost all his life. His mother married again and his stepfather... was a cruel individual and..." Grey made a pause, his shoulders shrugged in an attempt to finish that sentence, but he didn't. The nurse, Angela her name tag said, just looked at him, giving him the time he needed.

"Over the last year, he was so lost, he was constantly lashing out, couldn't cope. He needed to be sedated so often. But I just can't bring myself to put him into an institution...

He's still my... don't tell him, I said it out loud. He's still my little hummingbird." A smile in his distant eyes. Then his tone was clogged all of a sudden. "He is my responsibility. He needs me and I must confess, just as bad, I need him too."

Grey's eyes turned glazy and he gave her an apologetic look and a sad smile from the side, placing the cup of digusting brown liquid on the floor between his feet.

"Hummingbird? That's a... nice nickname..." 'for a grown man!' she thought to herself confused. But Angela wouldn't show her confusion, keeping a professional, but yet sympathic face.

"Yeah, I call him my little hummingbird since he was a kid, despite he's a big boy now. He was always so alive. Scattering to and fro, never stayed still for a second. Then life caught up to him and I, ...I wasn't there to protect him. I will never forgive myself for that..." Grey brushed his own left hand over his face. "..., but I also will never forget, how full of life, free and happy he was then, he used to be. Fast as lightling, always chatting and moving, and still so delecate and fragil, just like a hummingbird. My hummingbird." His eyes had drifted away, lost in thought, his look fixated on an invisible spot at the floor.

"That's so sweet." The nurse couldn't help the funny feeling this man gave her. But his explanation, the changing expression around his eyes, the smile, when he talked about his kid being alive. She just knew his feelings were genuien. And she could actually feel it too, because she was a mother herself. Sometimes she was annoyed, but mostly more than happy for the sheer endless supply of energy her little girls threw at her day in and day out.

Grey was talking again, his voice low. He didn't move his eyes from that invisible spot. "Delecate and fragile he surely is, my little hummingbird. How could he..." Grey swallowed strained. His hands covered his face in a swift motion.

It was hard to compare that broken, sedated soul just being stitched together in surgery, ever being something more than a pale shell of the person he apparently used to be, Angela thought. She had seen his father bringing him in. A pale ghost covered in heaps of his own blood. She wanted to say something, show her understanding and sympathy, but she wouldn't know what. Just the thought of her girls getting broken by life as it happened, took her breath away.

"I'm sorry." Sheepishly Grey brushed some unshed tears away, lowered his hands again and gave her a heartly, but sad smile from the side by tilting his head a little.

"Sometimes I have hope. Then he can cope and is almost... almost normal. You know what I mean. His medication is really working, helping him. But then all starts anew. Trashing and swearing and...

His heartconditon has gotten worse and so his head was even more screwed, y'know. The worst part of it all." The man swallowed again, it seemed his face lost a bit of it color all of a sudden.

"He actualy thinks, I am some psycho who kidnapped him. Keeping him captive. He thinks, he's being drugged to comply. Which makes it so hard for him to understand, that he actually needs his medication. He thinks all his medical files are forged and we're not even related." The former doctor pulled his eyes from the floor again and looked back at the nurse.

"It's really hard sometimes... actually most of the time. But I just want him to be okay. To finally see the life, I'm trying to put out for him... But I guess, you can't always have what you want, right." His shoulders shrugged, as if his last statement was about a special treat that was out, when he wanted to buy it. There was some kind of resignation in the man's posture.

Angela was inwardly shocked by his whole story. She wasn't sure, if she had really surpressed that flinch, when it overtook her. "I'm so sorry." What should she say to something heartbreaking as a son thinking his own father to be a madman.

Sam startled awake. He had been roaming around, just under the rim of consciousness for days it felt, which had only been hours. Now he finally broke through the barrier. "Take it easy." A soothing hand on his arm. A small hand. It was a nurse, smiling at him. 'He was tired, oh was he tired.'

"Hey there. Nice to have you back, honey. Are you in any pain?" The young woman was still touching his arm with her soft fingertips.

His neck just very slightly shook his head in an unconscious answer without Sam's active participation. His head needed some time to put the pieces, thrown at him, together.

The presence of someone else than Grey was something new. Still his mind wasn't able to catch up.

"Whxc." Scratched out of his mouth silently. Next thing he knew, she held a cup with a straw towards his lips, he accepted thankfully. "Sounds scratchy." A genuien blink from her bright green eyes. "My name is Angela. I'm a nurse and you're at the hospital, honey."

Sam blinked confused himself. He was really exhausted, trying to move into a more comfortable position on the bed. His left arm felt heavy, like a bolder was attached to it, preventing him from lifting it even an inch. He was cold, but not in any real pain. Yet, his arm felt kind of tight and numb, like someone was trying to pull the skin away in different directions, until it would rip apart.

"Whaa-t happnd?" Sam supposed, he knew what happened, but his memory was probably playing him, though. Cause, he couldn't be in a hospital, but it defentily looked like one. The nurse had a real name tag, he couldn't read, if it actually said Angela, but it looked genuien for all he knew. 'Wasn't he supposed to be dead?'

Her sad smile was melting the walls of the drugged induced stupor, she was nervous and changed the subject. "The doctor will have a look at you real soon, he can explain, honey. Till then, someone's here to see you, if you're up to it?"

'Who? would be? No one knew he was here. Where ever here was? No one knew, he was in the fangs of a maniac, for, for godsake he didn't even knew how long.' Sam wanted to tell her. He wanted to spill it all, but he was just too tired. Maybe, it all was but a dream, a nightmere to be precise. Maybe, he never left work, because he was pinned under a bolder or that cart never had missed him?* His head was foggy, as so often in the (recent?) past? "Who?" slipped over his heavy tongue.

"Your Dad." Her smile burned itself inside his soul. 'He... he had no Dad. Never had, never would... so who...?"

Their eyes locked, when Grey stepped into the room. Panic flared up. Sam's weak body jolted. The static beating in the background, he hadn't even really noticed before, because it had been lolling him into a soothing fog of warmth, rose to a hectic cacophony of unbearable noises.

"No no no no no. That's not. No." Sam's head shook frantically. He tried to get away, his left arm wouldn't cooperate. He ripped up his right from the bedding, but it was stopped forcefully. Shocked he stared at a thick leather cuff, binding it to the bedframe. A cuff, that almost looked like the one's Grey used to chain him to floor and ceiling. Uncomprehending his wide eyes looked up again, never understanding hospital policy and the more harming intention of preventing him from repeating the course of action, that had let him here.

"Wha...? why?" Pure and utter panic took a hold of him. He was struggling like a maniac, despite his blood loss and weakness. 'All of this should be over. All of this should have never been real at al.' The strength to fight, only fueled by adrenaline resulting from his panic attack was draining him too fast.

Still, his heart just acted out completely, only short frantic gasped remained of his so vitally needed attempt to breathe in. "No no no. You can't... believe... a thing... he says. Please. That's...not...NOT my Dad. That's not..."

A heavy tingling sensation appeared out of nowhere and jumped at Sam like a landslide, just pulling him with. A bunch of people surrounded his bed all of a sudden, different voices, instruments, hands on him, while an invisible force tried to lure him into a warm blanket of darkness. It was all too much in his fragile state. The hammering pain in his chest kind of ebbed away and Sam willingly surrendered to oblivion.

The commotion faded away, like a fog disolving, people cleared the room after some time. The nice nurse gave Grey an apologetic and very sad look. Her lips forming a silent 'I'm sorry.' Afterwards her mournful eyes went to the floor. Her hand brushed over Grey's shoulder short but gently, than she left.

Sam was drugged out of his mind, his misery and consciousness again. A soothing hand in his hair, he couldn't feel. "Sssch. I got you, my little hummingbird. We'll get through this."

Days passed. And attending nurses, as well as the responsable doctor all worried about Sam's mental state, beside the actual certainty, that he was in desperate need of a pacemaker.

But he apparently couldn't comprehend and he wouldn't really step out of the hazy, disoriented and incoherent space, in which his mind seemed to be imprisoned.

The times, he was coming close to reality were hard on everyone. Between unconciouness, sleep and nightmeres, he tried to convince them, that he was actually a captive by the man, who was only imposing as his father.

It was highly unsettling, but every other reassuring look at his records confirmed, that unfortunately the his head really wasn't screwed on right. A sobbed and hardly audible statement, that kind of sounded like “I thought I was getting better.” from his part in a semi-conscious state only backed up the cruel reality. Had anyone listen closly, it had sounded more, like a desperate wish for 'I thought, IT was getting better'.

And yet, nurse Angela couldn't shake this ichty feeling 'his Dad' gave her. Or seeing the fear in this young man's eyes, whenever he was alert enough, to have some part in their reality.

The nurse was anxious. She kept the chart tight to her chest, not for anyone to see. This was really bad. She had paged Dr. Warron, but he was kept by another patient for now.

When he finally made his way down the corridor towards the nursing station seversl minutes later, she practically jumped out of her chair and all but flew over to him. Angela grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest storage room. "Angy, what do you..." "DOCTOR!" She forcefully interrupted him. "I believe, the young man is right and really being held hostage by the man calling himself his father." She was excited and nervous, but Warron wanted to block every attempt. "Angy, we've been through this. Your gut telling you, you don't like his old man, is not a clinical expertise for a mental case."

"Something doesn't add up, doctor. The 'kid' is here about a week now and his toxscreen is through the roof. Look at this. All these substances shouldn't be in his blood. Actually these combinations shouldn't be in anyone's blood. When he came in, okay, but neither of us had adminstered these drugs, look." She practically shoved the chart into his face.

It was something the the yoing man had said to her, she just couldn't dodge. It was running circles in her mind. He had been almost out of it again, but his pale cuffed hand had drilled itself into her coat and he had whispered into her ear, on one of those few moments, 'his Dad' wasn't nearby for once. "Please, compare our bloodtyps. He's lying. We can't be related. Pleas..." There were tears welding up in his eyes, but they were interrupted by that man entering again, letting waves of uncertanty flare up around Angela.

Dr. Warron studied the lap results, his expression darkened. "There's also something about their bloodtyps the kid said to me." Angela added. The doctor looked at her. His demeanor had changed, professionalsm and couriosity clearly shown in his face now, erasing the doubt.

"They wouldn't match. The kid's got 0-. But I couldn't get any information from "the father" (she made quotation marks in the air) "without raising any suspensions." An understanding nod was Warrons answer.

"I want someone with him at all times from now on. He's not to he left alone with that man anymore, who is apparently drugging him up under our noses. Call the authorities and I will have to make some calls regarding his medical records, his pretended father so openly provided. Dammit." His big hand squeezed her shoulder. "Good job, Angela. Thank you for being so stubborn."

They left the storage room and approached there taskes with brisked steps. Angela got hold of a collegue and was just about to explain, that said patient needed to be put under constant surveillance, when another nurse hectically made her way towards them. Her face was flushed, she was really upset. "He's gone."

Without any further explanation, Angela knew who was meant. She left her colleges standing and practically ran to the room, the 'suicidal boy' was supposed to be in, under the watchful eyes of his apparent father.

The room was empty, the bedding rumpled and a lonely cuff was chained to the frame of the bed, the other leatherstrap opened.

About 10 miles outside the city a tall man was steering his car towards the sunset. He was humming to himself. His big hand was bent behind the passagerseat. Long fingers ruffled through the young man's untamed hair. He was unconscious, laying on the backseat, his feet behind the driver, a thick white bandage around his left forarm sticking out under a blanket. The man behind the steering wheel took a quick last look to the back.

"No worries my little hummingbird. I'll find us a new home. Just you and me."

His hand slowly pulled away, his attention back to the road. He was humming again.

The End...?

Hummingbird masterlist

@whumptober-archive

#whumptober 2023 #no.31 #oc #hummingbird #creepy whumper #don't knw what's real anymore #did I mention creeeepy whumper #whump #writing #whump writing #I apparently just creeped myself out for being this creepy

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saintclay · 2 years

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it’s 1 am and I have lost enough filters that I’m going to say something that might be controversial.

Conner Kent is not a clone. not in the literal sense of the word. he’s a genomorph, yes, but not a clone.

yes he was artificially grown using Clark’s DNA. however. half of his DNA comes from Lex Luthor. thats. thats literally just a kid. but like with extra steps and a lot of bullshit science.

Match is a clone. I think. I’m like 99% certain that he is explicitly unstable because he’s 100% kryptonian. which is also bullshit and makes no sense but ok I can suspend my disbelief on that I fuckin guess.

this probably makes no sense to anyone who cannot peer into my sleep addled brain but I thought it was important.

#young justice #young justice animated #young justice phantoms #I guess #Conner kent #sorry to all the comics conner stans for clogging up your tag because I don't know enough about the comics to know if this #also holds up for him #but I'm like 90% certain that in the comics he is also 1/2 superman 1/2 lex luthor #so #y'know #look ok a clone is an exact genetic replica and this may be a weird place to draw the line for my suspension of disbelief but goddamn it #I have to draw the line somewhere it might as well be here #Conner is not an exact genetic replica! he's not a fuckong clone!#me looking at a show: I can forgive a lot of things but being inaccurate about something that I have a 9th grade level of knowledge of #is a cardinal sin #hey maybe I'm wrong. yell at me if I am I fuckin guess

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grey-amethyst · 3 years

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Okay, hear me out.

I honestly hope that the Schnee family don’t completely reconcile during the series.

I want Whitley to still resent his sisters for leaving, I want the siblings to not completely trust their mom, I want Willow to be struggling with finding healthy coping mechanisms, I want it to be clear that unravelling decades of abuse can take a long, long while and sometimes damage done to relationships during that time of abuse can’t be mended even with time and work put into recovery.

Ultimately Jacques is to blame for their mangled family dynamic, but being in a dynamic like that, even if you know the primary abuser bears the bulk of fault, it’s still legitimate to be hurt when the people who can protect you need to distance themselves in order to be safe.

It’s not Weiss or Winter’s fault that Whitley was left alone with his parent’s abusive marriage, his mom’s neglect and maladaptive coping with alcohol, and his dad’s emotional and probably physical abuse, but the pain and feelings of abandonment he has are real. It’s understandable that the sisters don’t even want to think about their home life, but neither of them appear to have reached out to Whitley, so he was left to endure that environment almost completely alone. And I really, really hope that that isn’t ignored in the narrative, I want Whitley to express (in whatever way he can, probably non-verbally) how ostracized he felt, how being aligned with their abuser by nature of golden-child/scapegoat dynamics (which imo comes close but doesn’t 100% apply, we don’t see Jacques acknowledging Whitley very much at all when Weiss is around and the golden child can be more opaquely abused when the scapegoat is absent but Whitley seems very familiar with navigating his father yelling at him) hurt even worse and made it feel like he couldn’t leave.

We already see that Weiss has complicated feelings about her mom, she understands why she checked out but still feels like she failed her and her siblings by not protecting them more proactively from their abuse, and I hope that same feeling is reflected in the rest of the family dynamic.

I hope that that hug isn’t the end of Whitley and Weiss’s conflict.

#whitley schnee #abuse mentions /#weiss schnee #rwby spoilers #don't get me wrong i want emotional moments #but i also want weiss to come away from that knowing there was more she could have done #and for whitley to also know he could have done things differently too #but the past happened and their feelings are now and they need to take more time to heal before they can try to #forgive themselves and each other #sorry if i'm clogging the tags but complicated / abuse family dynamics #are important to see in media #and it's important imo for those portrayals to stay well-rounded and grounded in realism and understanding

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nyerus · 3 years

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i'm. it took me until today to realize that your twitter actually says 'reading nan chan' bc the substitute л is the russian letter for L. so every time i saw it i would just go 'but. but what is nal chal???'

OMG xD

Yes when I chose to mix it up, i was like damn i rly hope russian twt doesn’t get confused pls forgive me in advance -- but my choices were limited! I didn’t wanna clog the tags by leaving it as “nan chan” so alas... here we are!

Sorry for the confusion anon~ 😘

#anon #also sorry for like...#taking 17000 years to actually read NC #i really like it #im just SO busy and not in a good way ;v;#Anonymous

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cela-astral-projection · 4 years

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I thought if I could touch this place or feel it. This brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.

So I was fixing the tags on this from the app and it deleted the whole fic. Sorry, it wasn’t just a sappy-ass title. :( I hope someone likes the fic as much as this sad-ass Miranda Lambert song.

Celeste was in the clinic, back in the sluice room. She had just finished with a patient. Her last for the day. Julian was out on rounds, so it was quiet. Generally, at the end of the day, they would sit together and work charts, talk about patients, and get ready for tomorrow, dividing up tasks.

But, Julian was decidedly late. Generally, she could chalk that up to a chatty patient or something that needed a bit more time or attention. If it was a truly emergent situation, he would have her sent for. No, this was just...late.

As soon as she had completed the thought, the front door banged open. "Lovely, Sweetheart, Angel, Light of My Life!" Julian called out, sounding somewhat harried.

Celeste looked over her shoulder, fighting a smile. He was obnoxious, and she loved him for it. And he was laying it on thick. "Everything okay, Doc?" She called back.

"Uh...I don't think so." He said, sweeping into the sluice. He looked a bit disheveled. Celeste blinked, taking in the measure of him.

"What happened?" she asked, shaking the suds from her hands and turning away from the sink.

"Not sure. There was quite a commotion in the square. It was nearly a stampede. I got caught up." He was trying to straighten himself up. His shirt sleeve was torn, and the shirt itself was untucked. His hair was quite tousled, which was saying something.

"What do you mean, 'commotion'?" she said, striding past him, moving quickly to the front of the building, looking through the windows. Sure enough, the streets were slam packed, people pushing, shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes went wide. She yanked open the door and leaned out, looking out.

A royal guard was pushing up the street, against the fray, followed by her husband. Muriel, looking equal parts distressed and furious. The guard was calling out to her, but she couldn't hear him above the din of the crowd. Muriel caught her eyes, and she could see the panic.

When they had fought their way to her, Muriel kept moving up the street. He shouted, booming, that he was going to get the girls. They were in classes. She nodded, but she could feel her heart pounding. The guard pushed into the clinic.

"Forgive me, Mistress, but you are required at the palace, immediately." the man said, trying to catch his breath.

Julian was behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "What's happening?"

"The former Count has returned to the palace. He has demanded an audience." the man spoke plainly.

Celeste deflated a bit, and Julian stood close behind her, steadying her.

Everyone had been apprised of the situation, regarding Lucio and Celeste's shared heritage. In a compromise, she had agreed not to seek him out, but instead, wrote him a letter that detailed the nature of their relationship, and made her feelings abundantly clear. It had been an act of catharsis, and it helped keep their distance.

Apparently, age hadn't tempered Lucio's boundary issues.

Her mind raced. Muriel would have the girls. But, Asra was at the palace already. Helping entertain traveling diplomats at Nadia's request.

Seeing the panic on Celeste's face, the guard softened a bit. "I assure you, Mistress, that he is quite...subdued. Comparatively speaking."

They were ushered through back alleys, avoiding the throngs of people that clogged the main arteries of the city. Portia met them at the front gates. Everyone appeared to be unscathed, but there was certainly a panic on. Guards barricading people at the bottom of the path.

Portia simply looked annoyed.

"What happened, Pasha?" Julian asked, following after her.

"Apparently he swanned around town for a while. Word spread fast," she said, her voice edgy.

"I thought you had him monitored? How did he get into the city? Did he hurt people?" Celeste asked, concerned. It was one thing for Lucio to be somewhere out in the ether, someone else's problem, but the fact that he was back...

"It's been a long time, Cela. He's really not a threat...we thought we could get away with less frequent checks. He took the lapse in supervision as permission to come home." she replied. Her wife was somewhere in the palace, holed up with her ex-husband. It would be trying under ideal circumstances. But, with Lucio, circumstances were rarely ideal.

When the palace doors, Nadia stood stalk straight at the top of the stairs overlooking the foyer, flanked by Lucio. Waiting.

They descended as the trio crossed the foyer. Nadia joined Portia, looking on. Portia looked nervous, but Nadia was all composure. Nerves of steel.

To say that time had been kind to Lucio was an understatement. How old would he be, now? Much older than he appeared. There was rather more white in his golden hair than there had been when last they had seen him, but it blended in beautifully. His appearance was more natural. He was not opulently adorned, his clothing more like the old portraits of a roguish young Mercenary, not the Count of Vesuvia. His alchemical arm still glittered, reflecting the light.

Apparently, his banishment had not quite been as hellish as Celeste had imagined. He was elegant. Regal. Composed. But, it did not temper her fear. It was still Lucio.

Lucio stood, towering over Celeste, appraising her. She waited for the blow. A sharp word. Something. Anything. His eyes still stained red, were rimmed by fine lines. He seemed softer.

He smiled at her. He smiled. A kind, genuine smile.

Celeste took a step back, searching his face. She couldn't trust what her eyes were seeing.

Julian looked equally shocked. "Lucio?" he implored, his eyes raking over his former employer's face, his body.

"It's good to see you too, Jules," Lucio said, his voice coy. He knew he had everyone on edge. And he reveled in it, a bit.

It was good to see them. All of them. Something he never thought he would admit, even to himself. He had loved Vesuvia. Truly, truly loved Vesuvia. He loved everyone here, in his way. These years of separation had pained him. Sobered him.

He had spent so much time being bitter. Scheming, planning. Plans that never came to fruition. And, even in his exile, his sweet Noddy had indulged him. Making sure he was well supplied. It was more than he deserved, but he had grown to truly appreciate her giving spirit with time and distance.

And he had built a life of his own. Made friends. Real friends. He had taken lovers. He was finally a man. Not a child. Truly beloved and embraced by his friends.

After years of being so embraced, it was hard to see these faces. This fear. He understood it. He could live with it. He would try to fix it if he could.

He sighed and produced a letter, extending it to Celeste between sharp fingertips. "Is it true?" he implored, gentle.

She didn't know what to make of that tone. Celeste stiffened, but nodded, making a noise of confirmation.

"So, you're Verner's daughter," he said, more statement than a question. "I don't see it, but...it makes sense." He stopped, contemplating what to say. "Verner was a good man. What I remember of him, anyway."

Celeste's eyes went wide. Did he remember her father? She hadn't considered that to be a possibility.

"Aedan looked like Verner. Aric. I... didn't see it, then. I was...preoccupied. To say the least." He said. He sounded genuinely contrite about it. "Aedan was a friend. You were always a flighty little pain in the ass. Had Valdemar in my business all the time, complaining about you. But...Aedan always got me. He always put up with me."

Asra appeared at the top of the stairs, taking them two at a time. He strode past Nadia and Lucio, wrapping his arm around Celeste's waist. His jaw was set and his eyes were hard. Magic and protection radiating off of him.

Lucio blinked, and a wicked grin spread across his features. "Oh, Jules. I thought she was your girl, the way you came in together. Unless you're sharing with Asra, here." He winked. "Linnea, maybe we are closer family than I thought. It seems like something I'd pull, too."

Asra made to speak, but Celeste nudged him, shaking her head. Not quite willing to open that can of worms and indulge him.

They stood in tense silence, unsure of what to do next.

Celeste sighed. "You didn't know, did you? That we were family? I mean...I have seen what you have done to your own blood. I can't imagine we would have been permitted to stay or...live. If you'd known."

Lucio shook his head. "Maybe I did. Aedan was pretty transparent about some things. The gifts he'd give. The stories he'd tell. When we were together it felt like...home." He appraised her. "I don't think I ever would have got it from you. You avoided me like the pl--... " he stopped, considering his verbiage. "You generally sent Julian in your place if you were summoned."

Julian made a noise. He didn't remember, either, but that did amuse him, somewhat. She was pushing him around for years, apparently. No wonder she was so good at it.

"It was Morga. She sent us to watch out for you," she said. That was a point of anger for her. Morga, who had put her and Muriel through such hell the first time she recalled meeting her, had been pulling the strings the whole time. She had respected Morga. Grieved her. She couldn't reconcile this information.

"Yeah, mom was about as subtle as a brick to the face. So, I guess...she did a good job with this one. Either that or she just knew I wasn't paying close enough attention to catch on." He considered for a moment. "Probably the latter."

Asra pulled a face. Was he really, truly owning up to his stupidity? Knock him over with a feather. What the hell was happening, here?

Nadia cleared her throat. "We're lingering in the foyer. Let us take refuge in the great hall. The servants will have dinner prepared. Some of us have traveled far to be in attendance today."

Asra scoffed. "You'll excuse me if I decline to eat with Lucio." he bit out. "We have a bad track record with his dinner parties if you'll recall."

Julian coughed, fighting back a laugh.

Lucio narrowed his eyes but didn't respond.

Nadia didn't bat an eyelash. She simply sighed. "All the same, you are all guests here. Come, sit. Drink."

Everyone knew better than to truly decline her hospitality. Awkward as the prospect may be.

They came to the banquet hall and took seats. Serving staff stood in the periphery, all looking rather nervous. Celeste imagined this was quite an event. The fallen Count, the source of so many stories, in their midst once more.

Asra leaned over to her and spoke, low. "Did Muriel get to the girls?" She nodded. At least, as far as she knew, he had. It made sense that Asra would have had guards collect him and send him to the children as a precaution. Why he wasn't there, now. Keeping them as far away from the palace as possible. Lucio was generally considered a loose cannon.

But, he didn't seem like a threat. He seemed...normal. That was information she wasn't sure how to process. The last months had been full of little revelations like this. It was an onslaught of new emotions. Building a narrative out of nothingness. Gaining a new context for every aspect of her life.

She reached out to grab the wine glass. She considered it for a moment and set it back down. Asra's words reverberating through her mind. As much as she'd like to be drunk for this...they truly did have a poor history with Lucio and dinner parties. Julian seemed equally reluctant to partake, eyes darting around the room.

Lucio had no such compunction. "Gods, Noddy. I think things have only gotten better. It's true. Distance does make the heart grow fonder."

It was the first time they had seen Nadia's veneer crack a bit. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh. Her eyelids fluttered a bit, and she seemed to be struggling. Unsure of what to say.

Portia chimed in, reaching out to grab Nadia's hand, running her thumb over her knuckles reassuringly. "Nothing but the best, here. As you will remember."

Lucio eyed them and gave a nod of approval. "And good for you two. Congrats," he said, raising his glass. "I always knew you had it in you, Noddy. Glad to know the legacy of taking the help to bed didn't die with me."

Portia and Julian were both on their feet, spluttering, furious. Nadia's hand was on her forehead. Pained. Lucio laughed, putting his hands up in resignation. "Good to know that you're all as humorless as ever," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I am serious. I'm happy for you. You look happy. Cheers."

The redheads settled, still tense. Julian's jaw was set. Portia's eyes fixed on him. They were both flushed scarlet.

Celeste and Asra gave silent, sympathetic glances. Asra had her hand under the table, squeezing it firmly.

"We would have taken a letter, Lucio. You didn't need to come." Celeste said, watching him.

"Oh, I wanted to come. I wanted to see you for myself," he replied, eyes fixed on hers. "I almost didn't believe it. But...I see it. You have my mother written all over your face." His gaze turned to Asra. "Do her eyes do that thing when she's pissed? Go gold?"

Asra tensed, but he nodded. He turned to Celeste. "You want to pull out the party trick? I think he'll probably appreciate it even less than Muriel."

She furrowed her brow, wondering if Asra was serious. He was. She drew a deep breath, and closed her eyes, turning her face back to Lucio. When her eyes opened, they were that same gold. Her face was hard. She spoke in Morga's voice. "If you wish to make up for your many shortcomings, you'd better start now."

Lucio's eyes went wide and he flailed a bit. "Oh, fuck." he spat, color draining from his face.

She made a noise in her throat. She felt as if Morga had given her strength. She settled back into herself, but her eyebrow was lifted, challenging Lucio.

He smoothed his hand over his chest, trying to catch his breath, steady his breathing. And of course, she'd pick that ominous statement. His shortcomings.

He took a deep breath, bearing up against the fear that she had stricken him with. Trying to find words. "You are...correct. My shortcomings are...numerous." he started. His eyes fell. He deflated a bit. "I don't expect forgiveness. I don't know that I can earn that. But...I'm not who I was."

His eyes went to Nadia. "You granted me grace. You gave me a home and an opportunity to start over. And I fought it for years. I wanted to take Vesuvia back. I wanted to overthrow you but...I couldn't. I didn't have anyone. Nobody was coming for me. I was defeated. I had to learn how to behave. How to work with people. How to fend for myself. I couldn't turn to Mercenary's work. The patrols you had on me made me learn how to live with myself. I had to seek people out and...treat them well. And they listened to me. They were kind to me. I...didn't know what to do with that. I still don't." he stopped. "But I'm learning. I am better, now. I promise you that."

Asra softened a bit, but he was still skeptical. "And what do you expect us to do with that information? Lucio...we all know you. You're a murderer. You enslaved people. You separated children from their parents. You were a literal vessel for the Devil." he said, rapid-fire. "What do you hope to gain, coming here? Do you want your power back? Do you want to try again with the Arcana? What can you do here that couldn't have been accomplished with a simple letter?"

Lucio shook his head. He tensed a bit, but, his words were patient, accepting Asra's frustration and anger. "I needed to see her. I needed to see Aedan's sister. I needed to know if there was a chance to have..." he stopped himself and took a deep breath. Unsure if he wanted to admit it out loud. "...another opportunity. Another chance at family."

He bit his lip, and his eyes welled a bit. Everyone else was a bit taken back by the show of emotion. Unsure of what to make of it. It seemed genuine.

Lucio continued. "I have singlehandedly destroyed or lost everyone who ever cared for me. I know where the blame falls. I can take responsibility for that, now. But, when I understood what I had done to you, Linnea. That you had died. And that you came back. And I...I stole your body from you. You, my last living relative. I destroyed our family. I killed you. I killed our Aedan." Tears did fall. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. "And you're here. And you...sent that letter. You gave me another chance. I can't thank you enough for that."

Celeste softened, and she felt her face go hot, and knew that tears were not far behind. The rest of the attending dinner guests stared on, disbelieving.

"När djävulen växer gammal blir han religiös ." Montag said, his voice soft. When the devil grows old, he becomes religious.

Celeste's eyes went wide, something snapping into place. "Bättre sent än aldrig." She said, not sure where the words were coming from. Her head swam.

Better late than never.

#count lucio #montag morgasson #the arcana game #the arcana #arcana #lucio #montag #mc #oc #looks like growth to me #fanfiction #apprentice oc #apprentice celeste #celeste #happy birthday monty #love ya bud #goatman #reunion

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demented-dukey · 5 years

Note

(Anon who asked about blocking remrom, in long post) um. That is, if you tag remrom😅 I don't follow any other blogs who ship them, so I didn't have to worry about it, but if you don't tag them I'd have to unfollow you😅 (I'm not saying that as a threat! Remrom just really makes me uncomfortable. I'm sorry if this is annoying)

Hey Anon! I’ll answer your other ask in just a sec, so forgive me for doing these out of order. Here’s where I stand on tagging:

All art, fic, and memes that contain Rem/Rom content will be tagged with both #remrom and #romrem. I would suggest blocking those two tags (which I will explain how to do on your other ask).That said, I get a ~lot~ of asks about Rem/Rom, and I talk about it a lot in random posts. With some exceptions, I rarely tag these as #remrom or #romrem, because I’m trying to keep the tag positive (some asks are negative), and because I’m trying to keep the tag reserved for actual creative content and not clogged up by all my asks.

TL;DR - Creative shipping content will be tagged with #remrom and #romrem, but there will be a lot of general discussion and mention of the ship on my blog that may not be tagged, so if that bothers you too much to just scroll past, you should probably unfollow me for your own mental health.

I take tagging suggestions, and do my best to tag properly. If I make a mistake, please point it out and I will do my best to fix it.

(You’ve got me curious now, Anon. While it’s technically a Remus-centered blog, I created this side blog so I had somewhere to start screaming my love of Rem/Rom. If you’re bothered by it, how the heck did you find me, and what made you start following me in the first place?)

#dd asks #anon 😅#legit asks get legit answers #no gif #serious talk time #there is a method to my madness #tagging #blocking #dd is curious

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fleshphagus · 2 years

Text

Sorry I couldn't figure out the readmore

identification removed to protect the innocent and I don't want to clog replies with just a Mildly Related tangent but:

I saw some random mlmtoothpasteflagblogtype get ''dunked on'' today and like yeah, in the Real World ''there's nothing wrong with men liking sports and tools and being dirty and masculine'' is the norm and you complain about people living in this pathetic little online bubble and how they're regurgitating traditional gender roles but you know what. They do live in a bubble. What about it. Lots of (trans especially) people flock to online spaces and have shit tons of friends on tumblr/discord. If one of the only places they can get whatever transvalidation they need is this bubble, OK. And these if things are making them feel better, OK. Anti-masc/androgen sentiment is completely understandable and I agree you cannot have transandrophobia but I think they have a point to a bit annoyed about it. Like maybe they won't grow up, who knows, OP I saw was 22. But the post I saw today by famous funnyblogger said in the tags ''I've never so harshly dragged someone without provocation like this'' and that was so stupid. Yeah sis you really dragged. Wig etc. I'm sure that OP could see your reply and knows who the two tradwife looking blond girls were and got super insulted.

I think if we're going to spend time discussing accepting every plastic/affirming/whatever surgery regardless of contribution to ciswhitecentric beauty ideals the converse can be true without it being the end of the world even if it's a little cringey.

If someone wants surgery to pass better which is a saftey issue and you're going to full ''every surgery is fine'', Fine. - If women raised on instagram and tiktok elect to have nosejobs and tummy tucks and whatever, enforcing unhealthy or racist standards of beauty but its the way of the world or bullying or whatever the cause where it's forgiveable enough it's etc etc it's fine, let's pretend Ariana got that monolid surgery to be more popular and even though asinine and racist - It's fine.

God forbid the cringey transmascs post about ''liking sports is okay!'' on the site where a big sporting event day cannot pass without an infamous ''I hope the goalie scores a home run in sports ball today'' or whatever kind of dime a dozen, oh sports? That thing that makes stupid men yell? Team jerseys are the original funkopops. That shit is just as cringe as ''Tradwife youtuber speech bubble under your MLMurl transman it's ok to like sports'' post.

There's that post that talks about ''some of your favorite things will simply not be possible under anything other than capitalism'' re multiple blockbuster movies (not even just aimed at mcu fans), sports shouldn't exist like it does to day that's absolute truth. I only mildly like sports. It's not that big a deal to admit these things. But do I enjoy seeing 10 thousand people in comradery? Sure. You wanna dunk on me for it? Sure. Unironically it's sad you do not know the epic highs and lows of [high school football] sports.

It's really not about the sports lol. I lost the plot of this post long ago. What is tumblr but ever growing separatist communities through dash curation? ''Don't blame separatists blame the conditions that make them want to separate'' or whatever. The dunking post just caught my eye because the cis girls get in on it too and where is that in the tmatrans>tmetrans>cis section of opression olympics that this site lives and breathes on? "Subverting power structures and hierarchies is working within their confines which is both bad and good, I am very intelligent." (I am saying this, as a joke and seriously.)

I'd love the return of forums. The only problem: All the coders are transfemme, the transmascs could never make their own mlm boards. (Joke haha Jokes because you reached the end)

#Unimportant comments on two sides of the same tma coin about online transmasc misandry or what the fuck ever today #I COULD care less but I could care a lot more too.

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