#thank you for your patience! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greeenchrysanthemums · 1 month

Text

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 2: Secrecy and Shadows

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Chapter 1 -> next (tba)

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: Alcohol consumption

Words: 5,682

Pov: Grian

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Head back to the hideout and wait for me there, Scar.” Grian addressed his companion. “I’ll meet you there later tonight to update you on the situation as soon as the meeting comes to an end and we’ll proceed from there.”

“So bossy,” Scar said, and Grian could hear the pout on his lips without having to look at him. Regardless of his (most likely dramatized) complaining, however, he did indeed leap from the roof to do as he was told, fading away into the shadows of the setting sun.

Grian waited a moment before dropping back down into the alley he and Gem had fought in, his cloak billowing up around him on the way down. It still smelt of smoke in the small space, though most of the visual remnants had cleared out by now. He pulled his hood back up over his head, hiding away his feathers and obscuring his features as best as the thick fabric could.

There was at least a quarter hour of sunlight left in the sky, so that meant he had just as much time to burn before he was meant to meet with his someone who could make or break his plan. And he knew exactly how he was going to spend it.

He reentered the festival area, the overwhelming noise and smell bearing down on him in an instant. Grease, spices, perfumes, body odor, and more all punctuated by the ear ringing sound of laughter, bartering, and arguing. He could not claim to be a fan of any of it, nor could he claim to want to be here on this day, but, well, scheduling just works out in ways one does not like sometimes, and as a result he had no choice but to be out and about on a horrid day like this.

He made his way through the tightly packed crowd, moving fluidly between the warm bodies that stood between him and his objective. Grian was the average size and build of an avian of his kind, but he was smaller than the average person of any other race, so it was easy for him to maneuver his way through just about any obstacle, including the living ones.

He slid effortlessly into the shadows with his back against the backside of some kind of tent, likely a changing or storage area for performers. He peaked around the bend and spotted the Commander and her entourage immediately. They were alert and uneasy where they stood close to the stage. They monitored the area with careful eyes, ready for anything, for anyone. But he wasn’t just anyone. He had long ago learned to stay silent and hidden when he did not want to be found. His ears perked up at the sound of the Commander's voice.

“Patience, Scott. This is delicate information; I can’t risk letting it slip to the wrong person. We must wait for the arrival of his majesty before I am to utter a single word more on the subject.” She whispered, Grian’s ears just barely picking up on the quiet words.

“But if it is as grave as you appear to believe it is, I worry that we don’t have the time for you to wait for him to be present.” The blue haired man whispered back, though his pitch was louder than Gem’s, making him incredibly easy to hear in comparison. He did have a point, as well. If Grian’s plan really was going to take place sooner rather than later, she should be acting now. What was her reasoning behind being so secretive about it?

“No, Grian isn’t like that,” She interjected. Oh? “He wouldn’t tell me about a big grand plan and then immediately act upon it so soon after the fact. He knows I would be on high alert after something like that, so he will wait even if it means he gives us a chance to prepare, because the longer he waits the more likely we are to let our guard down.

“Not to mention, we’ve not a single clue what we are even preparing for, and he knows that. If we rush in head on, even if he were to act right now, we would have no idea what we are getting ourselves into. No, If I had to guess, whatever it is he has planned will not take place until the King’s speech or even later after it. And that is assuming it has anything to do with the festival at all, which I am beginning to doubt. We have time, and we are going to use it to clear our heads of the initial panic and wait for the King.”

Grian let himself smirk at the assessment, impressed. She was right of course, just as she usually was. He wasn’t planning on doing anything just yet, and what he did have in mind for today was something she wouldn’t suspect regardless, nor was it something she could stop unless she knew where to look. He knew without a doubt in his mind, as well, that she didn’t know where to look.

“You know that I am not one to doubt your mind, but are you sure about this? We all know what he is capable of. Should we be taking the chance?” The taller man with the nubby horns asked in a nervous manner.

Do you truly know what I am capable of? Grian wondered to himself, already knowing the answer.

Gem put her hand on the older man’s shoulder and said with sincerity “Trust me, old friend. I would not do anything I thought would put us, or anyone else here, in danger.”

This seemed to quell at least some of the man’s unease, because they fell into silence shortly thereafter.

Grian knew that Gem was still anxious herself despite the confident front she put on in front of her group of knights; the way she shifted from foot to foot and glanced around while twirling a stray strand of hair hanging in her face was a dead giveaway of this. Not many would notice these nervous habits unless they were looking for them. In fact, he knew it was likely that she made attempts to hide these shows of weakness to those around her, and she hid them well enough. It was simply that Grian had spent far too much time observing her, and anyone else who might be a threat, to not notice them easily.

She was nervous, but she was good at playing brave and making sure everyone else's nerves were calmed; a skill that any good leader should possess. The crown really was lucky to have her on their side, Grian thought with a note of bitterness.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, here comes the king now.

The crowd, previously an eclectic buzz of ear grating noises combined into one, quickly turned to unanimous cheers and murmurs of excitement, though if he focused hard enough, he could also hear some poorly concealed comments of contempt from some festival goers that made him snicker to himself. The crowd turned almost as one, and Grian followed their gaze over to none other than King Ren himself.

The thicket of people in the square parted to make way for the large, white horse which he rode upon. The stead was draped in riches almost as grand as his own attire, looking every bit the royal transportation that it was. Grian had to hold himself back from sneering at the way he held himself, back as straight as a board and head upturned so he was able to look down his nose at the common folk.

His jewel encrusted crown sparkled in the quickly fading sun, scattering fragments of colourful light in every direction. His red, fur embroidered cloak looked far too warm, even for the chilly weather. His many rings looked expensive enough to feed a family for months with the coin you could get off of selling it. Even his stiff, well-tailored clothes looked more expensive than a vast majority of the exported goods sold in the clothing area of the festival. Overall, he looked just as pompous and over dressed as he always did.

At his side, holding onto the reins of the horse from down below, walked the King’s royal advisor and personal guard, Martyn. The man stood tall, his clothes just as uselessly expensive looking, but less stiff to allow him easy movement and covered by a layer of grey armour to protect his delicate weak spots. The strip of green fabric that was tied around his forehead looked more a hindrance than a help, doing little to keep his hair out of his face and only providing a way for sweat to gather and sit stagnant on his skin.

Gross, questionable fashion choice, but who was he to judge.

With the appearance of the two important men, Grian distanced himself from the stage and took to the roof tops beyond the stands and tents. He huffed as his talons made contact with the tiles and his knees bent back to steady him. He was not out of view by any means, but who would think to look to the roof at a time like this? They were all too drunk or occupied with preparing for the feast to care if they saw him anyway.

He watched the Commander march over to the King the second he dismounted from his horse and speak to him, her hands animated as she seemingly explained to him that they needed to talk. He waved her off at first, which Grian could see made her angry by the way her body became tense. Then his advisor put his hand on his shoulder and whispered something into his ear. King Ren nodded and then motioned for Gem to follow him.

Grian jumped from one roof to the next as he followed Gem and The King to an area of the festival that was less occupied, his movements light and airy, but also quick and precise. Eventually they reached an unoccupied area behind the stands similar to the one Grian was hiding behind not long ago. The soldiers formed a semi-circle around them as they came to a stop, keeping an eye out and making sure no one got close enough to listen in on the conversation the two of them were about to have. They were very great at their job.

He settled into a crouch on one of the roofs near them, his talons curling under to grip onto the rafter in order to stop himself from falling. He had positioned himself close enough to hear most of what was said, but hopefully not close enough to be seen or heard himself.

“... warning, you say?” Ren asked, carelessly loud as Grian focused in on the conversation.

“Yes, your highness” Gem confirmed with a nod of her head.

“That hardly makes any sense, Commander. What reason would he have to warn his enemies that he has a plan against them?” The King asked in a condescending tone that left Grian sneering at the sheer indignity of it.

“Your highness, I mean you no disrespect when I say it would be unwise of us to underestimate Grian. Odd as it may be that he’s come to us with a warning, it would do us well to take him seriously. We have no way of knowing the power and numbers he has, nor what it is that he is planning.” Gem said, her tone firmer.

“Or if he is planning anything at all.” Ren said. Grian could not see her face, but he could tell the Commander’s eyebrow twitched, a facial que that she was pissed. She took a measured breath before responding.

“It would be wise to be on guard regardless.” She said, tone even and steady, masking her anger fairly well. King Ren opened his mouth to argue, but then his advisor settled his hand on his shoulder yet again and he raised a jewel encrusted hand up to his chin, scratching at his beard. Everyone waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything. Gem’s shoulders were tense.

“I trust you, Commander,” He finally said, “If it would bring you peace, tell the soldiers to keep their eyes open and increase the security in the streets. Do you believe he will try anything tonight?”

Grian perked up in delight. An increase of soldiers in the streets was not a good thing by any means, but it still meant a decrease in soldiers within the castle. That could work in their favour. What a pleasant outcome to his risky warning. He knew it was worth it.

“No, your highness,” Gem said, “It is unlikely he will make his move tonight, but I still believe it would be for the best if we tighten security, especially around the feast.”

“Have it be done than. If that is all, I believe I have a speech to make, do I not? You’ve kept me from it long enough.” Ren said.

Gem and her right-hand men bowed to the King, and with that he took his leave, the soldiers that had been guarding the area following after him. Gem and her men stayed behind for a moment, anger clearly stewing. She punched the stone wall behind her with a noise of frustration before bringing her hand up to rub the spot between her brows. Impulse tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and took the lead back towards the city square.

Grian knew he should be going. He was most definitely late for the meeting at this point, but surely it could not hurt to listen in just a little bit more. Who knows what he was likely to hear. He unhooked his talons and took off across the rooftops once more.

As he grew closer to the center once more, where the stage had shrunk in size and been surrounded with rows upon rows of tables that were overflowing with delicious foods, he jumped from the roof and onto one of the unattended, canopy covered alcohol stands. He sank into the surface, causing it to cave in the slightest amount. He pulled his talons into his core to avoid tearing the fabric apart and rolled towards the edge until he was on his belly overlooking the feast.

He had perfectly positioned himself on the stand next to the royal dining table, where everyone important or related to the king was sat eating the plethora of food. There were large kegs of alcohol atop the tables, rendering the stand he lay upon useless, so it was unlikely for anyone to approach it and find him.

He watched as Ren made his way up onto the small stage, Martyn ever by his side. He began to talk, voice loud and domineering over the crowd as laterns all around them began to light up the growing darkness. Grian tuned the entirety of speech out, uncaring of whatever prattle was going to come out of his mouth. He knew he would gain nothing of value from it. His speeches were all the same, empty promises of safety full of nauseating amounts of self flattery.

His attention sharpened as Ren raised a golden goblet of wine up into the air, “To another year of prosperity!” He declared.

Grian covered his sensitive ears as the cheers of the crowd grew far too loud for him to bear. He watched as the King made his way over to his designated table, marked by the grand, gold lined red tablecloth that covered the surface. He uncovered his ears when the noise softened to an acceptable, but still aggravating, level as everyone began to feast.

The King sat at one end of the long table, Martyn sitting to his left with cautious eyes. Gem sat at the other end, Scott and Impulse on either side of her; they were who Grian had positioned himself near. Scott, the one with the blue hair, looked peeved. He leaned in towards an equally as angry appearing Gem, his elbows on the table as he spoke to her. Grian closed his eyes and focused his sensitive ears to hear them among all of the noise.

“I just do not understand his unwillingness to listen,” Scott said in a tone just above a whisper. “He knows better than anyone where your skills lie. It would do him well to trust in your word and instinct when facing something unknown like this threat.”

“He meant me no disrespect,” Gem said, though her tone said she believed otherwise. “This is out of the usual for Grian. He may even be right, who is to say it is not just a trick he is playing on us all?”

“But to dismiss it so easily-.”

“That’s enough, we’ll talk more after-.” Gem interrupted and the cut herself off, her eyes turning towards the roof tops.

Grian ducked out of view, though he doubted she would have seen him from where he was regardless. It was too risky to keep listening in when she was in some way aware of his presence, so he took that as a sign that it was best he be on his way.

He looked around him and found that the sun had fully set at this point. The moon and stars were both high in the sky, meaning it was well beyond time for him to go. He rolled towards the edge of the canopy and slipped off with one easy motion, hitting the ground with a near silent clink of his talons. He kept hidden behind the booths until he rejoined the crowd outside of the town square. The flickering fire from the lanterns cast dancing shadows across the walls and the ground, creating a kaleidoscope along what was visible of the stone floor.

He reached the tavern in a timely manner and pushed the wooden door open. This place was usually more busy, but with the festival in full swing most would prefer to get their alcoholic fix in the streets where they could enjoy the festivities at the same time. Because of this, the spacious tavern was mostly empty, save for a few regular drunkards and people who had stumbled in to avoid the noise of the outside world.

It was dark inside, the few, scattered lamps that were lit around the space providing very little actual light. It was also filthy, with trash, food scraps, and sticky puddles of ale littering the floors and tables. There was a man slumped over one of the tables near the entrance, his hand still loosely holding onto an empty mug. He swore he spotted another man underneath a table near the back, but he chose to ignore it.

Grian made his way over to the bar, where the tender was stood rubbing the lip of a mug with a filthy towel as he eyed Grian with suspicion and murderous intent.

“I thought I told yous to stop coming here after the last time,” The man said, setting the mug on the counter with enough aggression that it rattled the racks of cups behind him. “Yous is trouble, too much trouble.”

“I’m here to meet a friend,” Grian said with a smile, undeterred by the aggravation directed his way. The man did have a right to want him gone, after all. Last time he’d been inside of this establishment he’d started a bar fight that ended with Gem showing up and the two of them fighting. The damage done to the interior had been spectacular. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him around? About my height, maybe a little taller. Brown hair, green streak in the front. Perhaps he had gills and earfins?��

“I have the right mind to call the guards in here right now, you know. Lotta nerve you’ve got showing up here to conduct your shady business.” The man said, crossing his arms.

“We both know you won’t, though.” He said, his grin turning into more of a smirk, “So, have you seen him?”

The bartender grunted, a sour expression on his face, before he pointed to the far corner of the bar, where a hooded figure sat at a large, round table all by himself. Grian gave the bartender a slight bow before heading over to where his potential ally was sat.

The hooded man looked up as Grian approached, his green eyes reflecting the flickering orange light of the lantern that hung from the ceiling. He was nursing a mug of ale that Grian knew from experience tasted like warm piss on a good day, and based on his twisted expression as he took a sip, today was not a good day. Well, people didn’t come here for the taste of the ale anyway.

Grian pulled one of the chairs away from the table and spun it around so he could sit with his legs spread and his arms resting over the back. He was rewarded with an unimpressed look, for more reasons than one.

“About time you showed up. I’ve been waiting a bloody quarter hour.” Joel scolded, his sharp teeth on display.

“Sorry, Joel, I got a little caught up on the way here.” He said, choosing to leave out the part where he had been spying on Gem and her people.

“Sh! Keep your voice down, would you? Might as well just run into the streets and announce that I’m here while you're at it!” Joel whispered harshly, leaning forward with paranoid eyes. Grian rolled his own black eyes at the exclamation.

“Joel is a very common name, and you aren’t the only one with it. I can guarantee you that no one knows who you are. Even the hood is unnecessary.” Grian retorted, leaning forward to flick the hairline of the hood. Joel leaned back, glaring.

“You’re wearing a hood as well, you know.” Joel protested.

“Because unlike you, I am well known in this area, and I would be recognized.” Grian replied with a tilt of his head. He felt like that was obvious.

“Whatever,” He said, taking a swig of the drink in his hands as his eyes scanned the tavern, “Let’s get down to business before this place falls apart on top of us.”

“Oh, come now, it’s not that bad.” Grian said, waving his hand. He reached over and snatched the ale from Joel’s hands and took several hardy gulps. He licked his lips and slammed the mug down onto the table, “That being said, the owner very much would like to see me buried six feet under, so perhaps it is best we get this over and done with as soon as possible.”

Joel looked perturbed by the assertion and the theft of his drink but said nothing of either.

“So, tell me, what choice have you come to in regard to the plan?” Grian asked.

"She has agreed to the plan, and I’ve been officially assigned to take care of preparations for you. I will personally be coordinating everything over the course of the next few weeks. It should all be in place just in time for the New Moon, just as you asked.” Joel said, posture straightening as he spoke.

“Excellent news!” Grian said, taking another drink of the alcohol and wiping the foam off of his lips with his shoulder, “I will arrange for a place for each group to camp out until the night we make our move.”

“I was just going to ask about that. I have already taken the liberty of renting out one of the vacant shops in the market district under a fake name. I already have a group here who accompanied me on my journey, so I will have them base there, but the shop is not nearly big enough to occupy the number of people you have requested.” Joel said. He eyed the mug Grian had stolen from him, and Grian slid it back over to him. Joel frowned when he saw how much Grian had drunken from it, squinting at him over the lip of the mug as he took a drink himself.

“Leave all further housing to me, I will take care of it.” Grian said. He briefly wondered if he should order his own ale but decided against it. He didn’t need to give the bartender more reasons to be angry with him.

“You can expect the second group of men and women to arrive by the end of next week. They will be disguising themselves as the family of my men already here, so be on the lookout for merchants selling glass.” Joel said.

“Give them word that they should head to Big Bakeries once they’re inside of the Capital and ask for the secret recipe. He will send them my way and I’ll get them settled.” He said, reaching over for the mug. Joel let him take it, and he deflated in disappointment when he found it empty.

“I’ll be sure to pass along the message,” Joel said before slapping his hands on the tabletop and pushing himself up into a standing position, “You made me wait too long, so I’ve got to be on my way. I’m on a tight schedule if you want things moving smoothly. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“I think we’re done here unless you need something from me,” Grian said, moving to stand as well when Joel shook his head ‘no’. He kicked the leg of the chair to spin it around to its proper placement and pushed it in, “It’s been both a pleasure and an honour doing business with you, I look forward to our future interactions.”

“You know how to get into contact with me if you need to,” Joel said, fixing his hood so that it properly hid his face.

“And you, me. If the usual avenue doesn’t work for whatever reason, you may also find me through the same method as your men, or you may also reach me through the inventors on Tinker Avenue. All you have to do is tell them you are there to watch when they ask what you need.” Grian said.

“Gods, I forgot it was your reach that tipped us off to your existence. It’s disturbing how many connections you have within the city. It makes one wonder what you need our help for at all.” Joel said, eyeing him.

“We are many, but there are hardly enough of us to lay siege to an entire castle all on our own. Your assistance is as greatly needed as it is appreciated.” Grian said. Joel nodded in understanding and then rounded the table to stand near him. He held out his hand and Grian reached out his own to shake it, careful to not scratch the man with his sharp nails.

“I was here much longer, so it only makes sense that I will be the one to head out first,” Joel said. Grian nodded and let go of the man’s hand, watching as his ally departed from the tavern.

He waited what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time to avoid appearing like he was following Joel out before pulling a bag of coins from his belt and tossing them towards the bartender. He caught it with a nasty look and tucked the bag away under the counter. He pointed towards the door and Grian rolled his eyes as he saw his way out before he could be thrown out.

As he entered the night air, he shivered a bit. Though it was only fall right now, it was already growing colder by the day. Winter would be upon them in no time. He would have to remember to inform everyone that they should wear warm underclothes once the fated night arrived.

The festival was still well in effect at this point, the jovial sounds reaching his ears and the smell of the food making his stomach rumble. He hoped their joy would last after his plan was enacted. He was doing it for them, even if they didn’t know it. While he had faith that everything would go well, especially with the news that their sister kingdom, Coral Crest, was on their side, there was always the ever-looming threat that things would go wrong.

In any case, he needed to get home to tell Scar the good news and give him a new task. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he exited the town, the noise finally dissipating to a low murmur before disappearing entirely and being replaced by the near silent sounds of crickets and wind ruffled leaves. He hurried through the trees to the location of his and Scar’s main hideout, one only they and Mumbo knew about, and looked around to ensure he wasn’t followed. Not that it really mattered. This place was completely guarded by magic, but one could never be too safe when you lived the life Grian did.

Once he was sure he was alone, he entered the cave hidden among the boulders and trees, and carried on further until he reached a split in the long tunnel. He came to several of these twists and turns until he finally reached the cavern he had been calling home for many years now. It was small, the interior only about the size of the average house, illuminated naturally by amethyst and some species of moss that grew along the ceiling and ground. There was a hammock in the corner for him to sleep in, a few chests scattered around the area, and a table that held a pitcher of water and piles of papers, both used and unused, in the center of the room. The left wall was entirely covered in papers with his messy handwriting on them, along with diagrams of the castle; all of his planning throughout the years.

Few people knew that this place existed. It was safer that way.

“Scar.” He said, his words echoing in the dark. He let out an exacerbated sigh when he received no response. He raised his voice, “Scar!”

“So impatient,” A voice said directly beside him. He didn’t so much as flinch, having had years to develop an immunity to the Scar’s bullshit and antics, “Give me a chance to respond!”

“Coral Crest has agreed to help us during the new moon.” Grian got right to the point. “They’ll be sending groups of soldiers to us over the next few weeks until then, so we’ll have to be ready for their arrival. Can you safeguard a few houses?”

“Anything for you, my delightful birdie friend.” Scar said. A meow reached Grian’s ears and he looked down to find Scar’s familiar rubbing against his leg. She looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he reached down, gingerly taking her into his arms before standing again.

“And while you’re at it, do me a favour and safeguard the glass shop over in the shopping district as soon as you can. There are a few Coral Crest allies stationed there already, and we wouldn’t want something happening to them.” Grian tacked on, scratching Jellie under the chin with the tip of his talon, as gentle and careful as could be though he knew he could not hurt her. She purred in his hold.

“Consider it done.” Scar said, and then continued with a satisfied grin, “The pieces are falling into place just as we hoped they would, aren’t they?”

“We’ve prepared for this day for nearly a decade. There is hardly any room for anything to go wrong.” Grian stated matter-of-factly, settling Jellie down on the ground.

“Let us hope that things keep going our way then.” Scar said before he and Jellie disappeared just as suddenly as they had showed up, no doubt getting right to work with the things Grian had tasked Scar with. Scar may be a bit on the carefree and goofy side from time to time, but he was also quick and efficient, especially with Jellie by his side. It would be taken care of by morning, Grian was sure of it.

All he had left to do until Joel arrived with more of his men in the coming week was go over the ground plans with his engineers, but that could wait. He pulled his cloak off of himself and discarded it on the chair by the table before heading over to the swinging hammock that hung from the lower parts of the ceiling. He climbed into it with practiced ease, folding an arm behind his head and settling the other on his stomach with his feet hanging over the edge. For now, he would sleep and await the new day.

He smiled a true, sincere grin up at the stone ceiling. Soon it would all be over, and this living nightmare would finally, at last, come to an end. Scar was right, everything truly was falling right into place for him.

Gem froze mid-sentence and turned her head at an unnatural speed towards one of the alcohol booths off to the side of the table. Her mouth snapped shut and her brows furrowed, lips twisting into a confused and foul expression.

“What is it, Gem?” Impulse asked, leaning back in his chair to look in the direction she was.

She hesitated for a second, eyes trained on the darkness. There was nothing there that either she or the boys could see, but still she couldn’t shake the feeling there was something, no someone, there. She, against her better judgement, turned her attention back towards her meal. She couldn’t let that encounter with Grian drive her mad with paranoia this early on. She had to be on her A-game, and that included not jumping at the shadows.

“It was nothing,” She said, ignoring the growing pit of unease that had yet to leave her. She only hoped that her words held true.

#GG rivals au #GG main fic #grian #geminitay #joel smallishbeans #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #life series #Danny's fics #fic: Thus Always to Tyrants #Point of View: Grian #cw: alcohol #very sorry for the wait everyone!#thank you for your patience!#let me know if this needs any more content warnings and I will update it in a heartbeat

50 notes · View notes

civilight-eterna · 8 days

Note

Hiii requesting horndragora, having an angry and steamy encounter in a Londonium alleyway

(cw: dubious consent, toxic yuri, enemies with benefits)

---

The order of "pin down the caster" was probably not meant to be taken so literally.

Horn had routed around Mandragora's cadre, covered by the debris that fell in the explosion, and at first contact, she'd managed to get behind her, far at the back lines of the fight.

A hand over her mouth and a chokehold later, and she's dragging the kicking feline into the back alley, unseen in the chaos.

"I'm not going to kill you. Just take a cat-nap until my squad passes over and I won't have to tear your head from your shoulders."

Mandragora's legs go weak faster than she expects them to and she staggers to kneel with her as she collapses to the ground, her knees splayed to either side of Horn's thigh.

They struggle for a few more seconds, in the interim of which, Horn realizes-

Mandragora is absolutely soaking between her legs.

It wouldn't be the first time someone has pissed themselves with fear while fighting with Horn, but that's precisely why she can tell that this isn't that. She's shocked, but not enough to loosen her grip.

"Are you-" Horn flexes her arm, tries to keep focused, but she can't seem to spit out the second half of her question-

-seriously about to cum from being strangled?

It's so beyond anything she could have fathomed that her arm slips in her distraction, and Mandragora throws her head back into her nose the next instant in a way that tells her she didn't even need to say it aloud. Heat trickles fast down both nostrils and through her bitten lip as the caster reverses her position, closes her hands around Horn's throat.

"Fuck, you-" She's coughing the words out. One of her eyes is red with broken blood vessels. Her hands aren't even that tight, or holding her in the right place to do the worst kind of damage. She's probably never been in a physical fight in her life where she had even glimpsed the 'winning' side. "Fuck you, you corn-fed Victorian cunt, it wasn't enough to try killing me? You wanted, to humiliate me too?"

Horn puts all her force into her legs, walking them inside Mandragora's guard to pound her feet hard into her chest. The feline goes flying through a brittle glass storefront, and when she chases her inside, she finds her scrambling to her feet, clutching a bleeding arm. A wall of rocks erupts behind Horn, sealing the door, the window, everything.

"Still want to blow us up, toy soldier?"

Horn growls, wordless fury building in her chest. Her team is on the other side, bleeding, enduring, and she can't clear it without burying them both.

"No, but maybe I'll use that hard head of yours as a battering ram if you keep talking." She wipes blood from her lip and flicks it across the floor.

A surge of energy bursts out of Mandragora and the rocks grow to triple their size, closing in the storefront, leaving about half the room to stand in. Horn staggers in the resulting quake and closes the distance between her and Mandragora, pouncing on her. A wolf on a kill.

Pin down the caster.

"You really want to die so badly?" Horn can't keep the sudden strain out of her voice.

"Don't you dare act like it's unbelievable or something! You don't get to pity me now-you're about a decade overdue! As if you have no idea how I've lived!" She's wiggling her wrists under Horn's grip, twisting from side to side in futile struggle.

"Oh, I've an idea," Horn breathes out, "'Mandragora'. Something that is ripped, screaming and crying, from the dirt. Did you choose that yourself? Or was it a 'gift'-" Her glare is molten, haloed in the curtain of wheat-colored hair obscuring them, "-from that beloved Leader of yours?"

Mandragora roars, thrashing and kicking, her fingers curling downwards and grasping, desperate to scratch.

"I'd do it again-I'd claw myself out from under as many bodies it takes to make you Victorians bleed even another drop-!"

Horn suddenly realizes how she's going to get them out of this.

It's unpleasant. It's nothing she would ever consider in any other circumstance.

She knows it'll work so she knows she's going to do it.

But it is all kinds of wrong.

"Alright, little feline-" Horn grimaces, and pushes her knee between Mandragora's legs, eliciting a scandalized gasp, "-bury us here, then. And when historians come to uncover us, maybe ten years from now, maybe one hundred years from now, they'll find Dublinn's caster and the 'White Wolf of Victoria'-"

She readjusts her arms, one around Mandragora's waist, the other raised to press a palm to her cheek in the most saccharine and overtly romantic display of affection she can imagine as she presses her forehead to hers.

"-locked together as star-crossed lovers that deserted their battlefield to die in one another's arms."

"You bitc-mmph-!"

Horn kisses her, hard, leans into her with her full weight, pulls at her slight waist and runs her fingers through her hair like she's never loved anyone else in her life.

Mandragora's nails destroy her back. She's screaming against her mouth, biting at her lips, but Horn readjusts for every inch of purchase she makes.

"Fucking Victorians-!" Mandragora howls, as Horn shifts her mouth over her throat, smothers it with bruising kisses, "-Faking's all you're good for-!"

"What about you?" Horn breathes into her ear, "Were you faking it when you nearly came from being choked out? Or are you that much of a pervert in general? Could it have been anyone but me behind you?" Horn strokes her hair out of her eyes, and Mandragora grabs her wrist so hard her nails are drawing blood.

"I don't know, I think you just love me that much that you would die in my arms."

There's something wrong with the kiss that follows. Tears prick the corners of Mandragora's eyes as she tries to force Horn back, but she's no match for her physical force. They're both exhausted.

The kissing becomes ever-so-slightly less performative on Horn's part. Mandragora's lips part just a touch wider, and even though Horn has been avoiding it, she finds her tongue sliding deep into her mouth.

"Hh...Hhah, fuck-" Mandragora whimpers, trembling with the urge to resist using her arts, overshoot her power. Horn's knee rubs slowly between her legs and she swears louder before she's silenced with an even deeper kiss.

"Mmhm." Horn exhales hard and gasps as Mandragora's cold hands slide under her tank, drag it up just over her breasts. This wasn't in the plan, she thinks distantly to herself.

"Victorian pig-" Mandragora spits, "-I bet you're, hah-used to sweating like an animal-on a leash with some crystal-studded plug up your ass, some noble's concubine because they pay big money to fuck their soldiers-"

Disgusting. Horn should be disgusted.

There should be no other emotions present at the revelation of such a filthy fantasy that her enemy has fashioned for her.

"You think about me a lot at night, don't you? All alone with your preoccupying hatred. Hope it keeps you warm, little feline."

"I was born from a grave. I've never been warm in my life."

"Then may my love for you sow warmth anew that entwines us together for the ages. I'll save you. You'll never be cold again under my embrace-"

"SHUT UP!"

The entire store quakes, the roof blowing off into the sky, the rocks vibrating so violently they become dust and powder overhead. Everything comes crumbling down.

On instinct, Horn throws her arms over Mandragora's head, ducks and covers until it's over.

They stare at one another. A voice from afar breaks the reverie.

"Aye! Captain?!"

They're both rolling away from each other, running opposite directions. Mandragora stops at the other side of the store, hand on the doorframe.

"-This never fucking happened, toy soldier."

"-Agreed."

(It's not the first lie they've told.)

#arknights #horn (arknights)#mandragora (arknights)#requests #my writing #foetp: impale you with my rock #dubious consent #toxic yuri #enemies with benefits #manipulation #these two really are the toxic yuri of all time #slowly working through requests #thank you for your patience!#horndragora

23 notes · View notes

soothedcerberus · 1 year

Photo

Commission for @astridkolch of their oc, Sonar! 🌸💙

#soothedcommissions #maccadam #oc #tfoc #watercolor #transformers #thank you for your patience!

140 notes · View notes

jamiesfootball · 1 month

Note

🌹🌷🌹

Later that night, while they're curled up on the couch with an empty bottle of red split between them, their phones go off at the same time.

Roy struggles to reach the coffee table - now that Keeley's cried herself to sleep, he doesn't want to wake her - but he's finally able to snag Keeley's by the corner. Without hesitation, he punches in her passcode; there's only one person they need to hear from right now, and he knows she'd kill him if they left Jamie waiting.

'I'm sorry I stormed out'

'I want you both to come. please'

'I can't do it without you'

#rose for a snippet #writing snippet #I've actually been writing again so I'm going to try to start answering these again #thank you for your patience!#fic: you're gonna go far kid #roy kent #keeley jones #jamie tartt

15 notes · View notes

rriavian · 2 months

Note

You mentioned in a recent ask how one of the things you loved about Corintheus is the balance of the ship. Could you tell me more about this? It's something I've never really associated with Corintheus and I'd love to know more.

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took so long to answer—I ended up writing far too much and had to wrangle it into something shorter. Also (as a general disclaimer) this is based on the show rather than the comics. When engaging with Corintheus as a ship I can definitely see why the idea of balance might not be something you’ve come across before!

I suppose the personal answer is that (for me) balance is what makes a ship fun.

I don’t think either of the two would be satisfied by someone who doesn’t match them, and as a reader/writer I’m not satisfied by that either.

I’ve answered a couple of asks about power dynamics and how I like to balance them (original here, part two here), but there are also other ways in which balance can be found within relationship dynamics. It doesn’t necessarily have to be about physical strength/power. In many ways I write Corintheus as a negotiation of balance, (though of course the Corinthian is going for dominance most of the time). In canon we see him fighting for agency, fighting for freedom from Dream and all of his rules, and to me that’s an attempt to balance the scales.

There’s an obvious, and unavoidable, power difference that impacts the relationship but there's also a hierarchical difference, further complicated by the creator/creation dynamic. In many ways Dream is always going to hold all the cards. But that’s a character quality not a relationship one (most characters interacting with Dream also face it) and, again, it’s what the Corinthian spent all of season one seeking to counteract.

So I don’t think he would want to stay in a relationship where he had no power…not when a lack of agency was why he rebelled in the first place.

But I also don’t think Dream is really the sort to use brutal (clumsy) shows of power in a relationship context. As the Corinthian’s king and creator, sure, Dream will be absolutely merciless when he needs to remind his creation of the rules. There’s a line though (exceptions made for fun little roleplays perhaps, but even then Dream is going to be far more careful with the Corinthian than the Corinthian would be with him).

A common theme in my writing is the Corinthian trying to push past his own limitations to balance the field with Dream, and Dream, in turn, allows him to choose the game they play but he doesn’t necessarily makes himself ‘weaker’. He sees it more as ensuring an interesting game of chess ;)

Of course this could just be me wrangling these dynamics to make it personally satisfying, but I always draw my characterisation from canon.

Even when provoked Dream rarely attacks with the full limit of his power, remains incredibly well controlled, pitches the exact amount of force required. To use one of my favourite examples—and also one where traditional ‘power’ isn’t what makes the difference—Dream does this against Lucifer. One could add that this is especially intricate as he takes what I write as the Corinthian’s usual place in this scenario; except here the obviously stronger opponent also sets the game, Lucifer can't quite commit to leveling the playing field, and yet Dream proves he knows exactly how to play because he still wins. Which is one of the things that makes his relationship with Lucifer so interesting.

The scenario in hell is a nice example of how balance isn’t guaranteed by giving one character a power boost, nor is it lost if one character is ‘weaker’ than the other. Lucifer was objectively where the power scale tipped, and yet I don’t think anyone who watched that scene could really say that Lucifer came out the victor. It’s a perfect illustration of how Dream sees/uses power, how he can manipulate an external perception of it.

(Not just the characters around him, but us as viewers, which is again something I’ve brought up before).

Ok so there was a whole point here about the Corinthian and Lucifer but it’s not really relevant (and I’ve already gone a little off topic!!) so I’m moving on…

So. If ‘power’ doesn’t always matter…where is the balance?

The Corinthian is intelligent, a hunter, made to be patient and calculating, and he has the sheer gall to use that against Dream. Yeah season one was mostly running, but when he stands his ground the Corinthian stands and fights. He pushes back—looks so personally hurt by Dream as he does so—and extrapolating that development into other scenarios is what started my Corintheus journey haha. I think those attributes—the stubbornness, the perhaps overabundance of intensity that is quite inhuman—are shared.

They are both nightmares: that part of Dream finds someone who can take it (and vice versa). It can be played out in a way that is healthy for them both.

I think that’s what so often goes wrong with Dream in his canon relationships—he’s too much for those who’ve tried. I think I briefly referred to this in another ask. But anyway! When the Corinthian wants something he goes all in to get it; his freedom in the waking world, his refusal to deny himself, ravenous to taste it all. Applied to Dream himself it’s balance because of how intense Dream also is. I think Dream is insanely attracted to that—the attempt of it, the eternal dance of it—he doesn’t want to be forced into a box, he wants someone to meet him where he is and still he knows that doing so will be a constant fight.

This idea is a theme in Baiting the Trap, though the Corinthian is only starting to become aware of it.

It’s the Corinthian’s nature as a ‘dark mirror’, because a reflection is a thing of balance. He brings out the dark urges, the selfish ones, speaks to the nightmare in Dream that isn’t evil but can be misunderstood to be so. Nightmares are a big part of Dream that I don’t think many characters within the narrative accept, or see as a good thing, but it’s not a part of him that should change. I think the Corinthian can draw that out and play with it.

They can do all sorts of fucked up/imaginative things with each other as outlets for a shared nightmarish nature, finding pleasure in what others might balk at.

The Corinthian objects to Dream’s rules, to a perceived lack of agency, but still thinks he’s doing what he’s made for. He has a differing philosophy in how he wants to be a nightmare in the waking world. This desire for freedom/agency is another balancing tool—it challenges Dream’s duty (and what that makes the Corinthian’s duty)—giving Dream a stage to reaffirm/explore that part of himself. While giving Dream a forum to challenge right back so that the Corinthian can reaffirm/explore the same thing.

In the weirdest of ways, Dream is complimented by a partner who is both a subject of his kingdom and a sceptic of it. The Corinthian understands, is just as inhuman as Dream is, but shows utter disdain right to his face—doesn’t put role and duty first—is selfish enough to want just him and fuck everything else.

The scene at the Convention was what inspired me to write for Corintheus. Mostly because of how it was framed. As opposed to the meeting in ep one it’s a very different set up and that’s not really because of Rose.

If anything the presence of a vortex should mean Dream zooms his way through this like ‘yeah that’s nice, but turn into sand now’ but instead he takes his time. He talks it out. They both have one half of the stage, opposite sides, opposite colour palettes, but there’s no game. They are both honest. It’s raw and real. And though it still ends in an unmaking it’s a very complex encounter. Yes it has the threat of duty hanging over it, but Dream is very clearly affected in a way he wasn’t when he punished Gault.

Wow this is getting long. This is so complex for me that I’ve written over 100k about it. I hope this makes sense though!

The Corinthian gets to push the boundaries with Dream, to do what he’d never thought he could, what he could never do to anyone else. In the waking he finds victims not equals, those he’s supposed to teach, to prey on but who he can never fully let loose on. No worthy opponent (no worthy lover). But Dream can be fought forever, is an incredibly powerful being that can be enjoyed past the limit, and oh does the predator in the Corinthian enjoy that. It’s the right kind of bittersweet because victory is impossible sure (balance in that too!) but there’s fun in it.

The sort that suits two immortal beings. It’s a meal that the Corinthian can never finish. It’s balance because he is never going to stop, and Dream is never going to move an inch.

It’s insatiable appetite vs an infinite feast.

#corintheus #dream of the endless #the corinthian #ship meta #character analysis #as always i could say more #thank you for your patience!#I hope this was interesting #let me know if you have another question <3 #rria writes meta

17 notes · View notes

sumerianlanguage · 6 months

Text

Silim y'all! Given the latest rumors that have been swirling, this is just a reminder that, in case Tumblr does eventually close active operations, the best bet is to follow me on Twitch. I stream about Sumerian/ancient stuff twice a month (including this evening in just a few hours) as well as non-Sumerian stuff all the time. My Twitter is no longer active, but you can follow my mostly-inactive YouTube too. Be well!

#also heads up that I have been very busy so will be slowly working through the backlog of asks #thank you for your patience!#blog update

24 notes · View notes

fuckmeyer · 1 month

Note

DVD COMMENTARY #1.. I have a couple!

***

“Did Marie see into the past, too?” said Phil.

“She read palms,” I mumbled.

“Past,” said Renée, pointing at me, “present,” she continued, pointing at herself, “and…” finally, she pointed to the sky “…future.”

By this point, Edward had gone quiet.

I added, “Mom, don’t you remember the way she would grab your hand and read your palm?”

He could keep wading through her memories, and I could get off the subject of my “psychic talents.” Win-win.

“What did she say about you?” said Phil

“All kinds of things. Let’s see. She predicted my little girl.” Renée threw me a loving glance. “She also said I would have a boy later in life, though—hm. I suppose that could be David. She said Bella would reunite with long lost family— I’m sure that was Charlie. And what else? —Ooh! That I would die an old, old lady.”

“Not to throw kerosene on the fire, babe,” said Phil with a growing grin, “but that’s pretty vague.”

“Oh, no! She was very specific. Death was her specialty. Her mother— my Nona Cynthia, Bella’s great-grandmother— she was the same way. Nona Cynthia used to run a little business with two friends when she was growing up— all the neighborhood kids would pay a cent to be read by The Psychics Three.” Renée laughed.

“So intuition runs in the family,” said Edward. His voice was scratchy. I gave him a look he didn’t return.

She gave me a knowing look. “Honey, you remember—after a while, I had to tell Nona Marie to stop reading your palm. Oh, she was just awful about the whole thing. Every time she would visit—”

We finished in unison: “Bella, your lifeline has run out.”

Edward looked up.

“Had it?” he said.

My mother and I had both been taken aback by the question.

“Well, of course not,” said Renée quietly with a nervous chuckle. Her hands fidgeted, nails picking at skin.

Edward didn’t need more information. He could see the memory clear as a mountain spring.

“Nona said I would drown,” I explained in a murmur.

Edward swallowed.

***

what made Edward go so quiet? what is Renee thinking that has him so on edge and tense? what is Renee feeling when seeing Edward’s reactions? please please share what you are able to without spoilers!!! and with Renee’s total 360 on her thoughts about Edward… was this when she realized he had this “darkness”?

ooh yay, throw em all my way!

BY STARLIGHT* CHAPTER 10: THEORIES - DVD COMMENTARY

*(no spoilers for future chaps)

“Did Marie see into the past, too?” said Phil.

“She read palms,” I mumbled.

“Past,” said Renée, pointing at me, “present,” she continued, pointing at herself, “and…” finally, she pointed to the sky “…future.” [this line is SO freaky to me. past implies a terminus, & Bells is terminal. the future, like Nona, is dead (& Renee points up, implying ascension). only the present - Renee - remains. like, holy shit Renee, do you have any idea how fucking symbolic you're being rn???]

By this point, Edward had gone quiet. [because Edward DOES realize how fucking symbolic she's being rn]

I added, “Mom, don’t you remember the way she would grab your hand and read your palm?”

He could keep wading through her memories, and I could get off the subject of my “psychic talents.” Win-win.

“God! Let me tell you how embarrassing it is to have all your friends’ deaths predicted by your mother whenever they came over.” She and Phil laughed; I chuckled weakly. Edward had no reaction. [this subject is discussed later, so maybe light spoilers? Edward can go deeper into someone's mind, but it requires more attention and energy. he is not well-trained in his new abilities. right now he's seeing Renee's memories: orange shag carpeting, birthday hats, children laughing, Renee whining to her mother...] “She made the freakiest predictions sometimes. Uncanny.”

“What did she say about you?” said Phil.

“Not to throw kerosene on the fire, babe,” said Phil with a growing grin, “but that’s pretty vague.”

“So intuition runs in the family,” said Edward. His voice was scratchy. [i've been wanting to do this "Edward stays out too long in the sun" scene for years. i initially pictured this as the day E&B get back together. i wanted them to be best friends (albeit with unbearable sexual tension). this lunch happens at a restaurant. when Bells would go off to find him, they'd meet in an empty hallway and get it on the janitorial closet or the pantry or sth. not all ideas are good ideas.] I gave him a look he didn’t return.

She gave me a knowing look. “Honey, you remember—after a while, I had to tell Nona Marie to stop reading your palm. Oh, she was just awful about the whole thing. Every time she would visit—”

We finished in unison: “Bella, your lifeline has run out.”

Edward looked up.

“Had it?” he said.

My mother and I had both been taken aback by the question.

“Well, of course not,” said Renée quietly with a nervous chuckle. Her hands fidgeted, nails picking at skin. [she knows how accurate her mother is. she's seen it firsthand. so for Nona Marie to INSIST that Bells would drown EVEN AFTER that incident at Charlie's makes Renee wonder if it'll happen. it's been years, and she's "convinced" herself Bella will live a full, happy life, but she'll never be able to shake the specifics of Marie's prediction (details she's never told Bella), & her insistence that Bella's time is coming very soon.]

Edward didn’t need more information. He could see the memory clear as a mountain spring. [that is, Renee getting the call from Charlie that Bella is in the hospital and Caitlin has gone missing.]

“Nona said I would drown,” I explained in a murmur.

Edward swallowed.

***

what made Edward go so quiet? [although he is a more powerful telepath, slipping into people's minds requires more energy & is harder to control. he's trying to focus & find what he needs to find. i talk about this more in depth in future chaps]

what is Renee thinking that has him so on edge and tense? [reliving the memories]

and with Renee’s total 360 on her thoughts about Edward… was this when she realized he had this “darkness”?

regarding Renee's about-face:

i intentionally set this and the next scene up to be ambiguous. we never actually know how Renee feels about Edward specifically. we do know Renee is worried for Bella. but we only hear about Edward & Renee's interactions through Bells who has proven to be an unreliable narrator. we also hear about Renee's opinion of Edward through Charlie who is at best is paraphrasing & at worst lying to suit his own agenda. Edward never tells Bells whatever it is he may or not may not have read in Renee's mind. is it a 180? i think that's something the readers should decide for themselves based on their perception of the characters :)

i will say, Renee seems to be a worrier. when she's in the middle of an adventure or new experience, she can quiet her mind & go with the flow - it's why she's so impulsive & reckless. here, grief is a constant source of background tension for her as her mother's funeral takes place, while having Bells home blinds her to pretty much everything else. not as to say she didn't notice. she is clearly concerned for Bella to some extent. but i think she had a lot going on around her & needed to reflect on the visit to grow so concerned she calls Charlie.

send me 500 words of my fanfic & i will give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet

#thank you for your patience!#feel free to send any others along!! i love this game :)#asks #by starlight #fanfic dvd commentary

10 notes · View notes