andromanic
Andromanic
He/Him, 22, Side blog for my Ao3, I follow from aerithtseng (main acct, for reblogs - i don't post on it.)
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Contribution to the fandom
God knows we need more Valenwind in the world
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Fav ship is always the ship that makes no sense and only exists becuase one line made everyone sit up and go “gay??”
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when ur undead bf is insecure about his gnarly autopsy scars
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valenwind angst!!!!!!…… i kno… it’s all i draw for this fandom lol
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I want to whimper “it...it hurts” as he thrusts into me. Then I want him to lean in and whisper into my ear, “good” and starts to thrust faster and faster so all I can do is cry and whimper more
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Unfriendly reminder that if you think women are inherently submissive and/or inferior to men do not follow me. I want nothing to do with you
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I really like the lineart from my last drawing, so I figured I’d share it here~
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Febuwhump 2022, Nightmares - Summary:
In which Cor has a nightmare and Cid tries to help.
Fic under the cut
Cor jolted awake, hand over his mouth to cage in a scream that threatened to escape. He scrambled out of the tent, chest rising and falling with rapid, panicked breaths as he slipped into the chilly, late fall night.
“It’s all your fault!”
A sharp gasp left his lips. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the haven and focused on the sensation of the rough, uneven rock that dug into his palms and knees. His stomach churned. The overwhelming fear and grief stole his breath away, flooded his mind with memories of the past, memories that he had tried to bury a long ago.
A daemon roared in the distance, and Cor flinched. The katana appeared in his hand on instinct, knuckles white as he gripped it tight. He had to remind himself to breathe. It was just a daemon in the woods. Nothing else, especially not him. The haven was perfectly safe. Cor took a shaky breath and let the katana vanish. He needed to get control of himself.
“You ruined everything!”
“I wish you’d never been born!”
Cor wiped his eyes hastily with the back of his hands as tears fell. He was over this. It had been two, maybe three years since he had last seen the man. He wasn’t that child anymore. He didn’t want to give him, or his words and actions, any control over his life anymore. A strangled noise bubbled up his throat. He shook his head sharply, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Fuck you, stupid fucking asshole!”
“Kid?”
Cor recoiled with a gasp, nearly falling from the edge of the haven as he whirled around. His breath hitched as he saw Cid standing right outside the tent. He hadn’t meant to wake anyone up. No one was supposed to know. “N-no. Go back to sleep. I- I’m fine.”
“Kid, you ain’t fooling anyone with that. What’s wrong?” Cid huffed as he walked over to him and sat down with his legs dangling off the haven. He sat close, but not close enough for their shoulders to touch. Cor appreciated it even as he turned his face away and tried to wipe away the tears.
“Nothing, I’m fine!” he insisted.
“That’s a load of garulashit and you know it,” Cid told him. “Have a nightmare?”
A low whine left Cor’s lips as he sniffled. He didn’t want to talk about it. He shifted, straightening his legs from under him before pulling them to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “‘s nothing.”
“You can keep telling yourself that, but I’ve never seen you cry over nothin’.”
Cor buried his face into his knees. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“We don’t need to,” Cid said. Cor tilted his head to look at him and saw him watching the stars. He was surprised and confused by the lack of pushing, but also relieved. He didn’t think he could handle it.
He didn’t know how long they sat there like that, but it was long enough for Cor’s tears to dry. The exhaustion was creeping back in, weighing down his body. He licked his lips nervously. “Thanks.”
Cid glanced at him. “For what?”
“Just— for not being pushy. Everyone else always is.” Cor shrugged. He didn’t meet Cid’s eyes, and instead picked on the hem of his shirt.
“It’s not any of my business to probe into your personal stuff,” Cid told him with the shake of a head. “I’m here if you want to talk, but I ain’t forcing you to.”
“Thanks.” Cor released a shaky breath. “I, uh— thanks.”
Cid raised an eyebrow at him. “Ready to head back to sleep? There’s still a good few hours of dark left.”
Cor bit his lip. He didn’t want to have another nightmare but he knew he would be exhausted if he stayed up the rest of the night. He looked at Cid again. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“Afraid you’ll have another nightmare?” Cid asked and watched him carefully.
“I guess,” Cor said with a tiny shrug.
“You won’t know until you try.”
“Yeah, but—” Cor cut himself off. He didn’t say anything for another minute as he stared into the distance. “Does it— Does it ever get easier? Like, uh, the bad memories.”
“Bad memories?” Cid hummed. “It does get easier, over the years. If it hurts now, it will most likely never stop hurting, but you learn to live with it and cope.”
“I still remember my first kill,” he said, slowly as if picking his words carefully. Cor looked at him with wide eyes. “I was a boy back then, barely your age. It was a kill or be killed situation, and I was faster.”
There was a pause as Cid rolled his shoulders back and sighed. Cor got a feeling this wasn’t something Cid had told many others. He didn’t wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “I felt terrible about it for a long time.”
Cor licked his lips when Cid trailed off. “And did it - get easier that is?
Cid looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He said nothing, and Cor instantly regretted asking. He opened his mouth to apologize, but right then Cid spoke up. “I can still feel the guilt, all of it, if I really think back to that day. But yes, it does get easier with time, even if you never forget.”
“I wish I could forget,” Cor mumbled. He didn’t want to wait years and years for the pain to fade.
Cid nodded. “Some people say talking helps.”
“Not you,” Cor pointed out.
“I ain’t much of a talker, kid. I’ve got a pair of good ears on me though.”
Cor propped his head back on his knees. Maybe someday he would have the courage to tell Cid more, but not yet. “I don’t think I can.”
“Alright. I won’t make you, just know that the offer stands.”
“Okay,” Cor said and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for a while longer before Cid stood back up. He swore his old age and stretched his back, getting a small smile from Cor. “I think it’s about time we get back in the tent, don’t you think?”
Cor bit his lip as Cid offered him his hand. He didn’t want to have any nightmares. Cid didn’t look like he was going to take a no for an answer though. Sighing, Cor accepted the help and let Cid pull him up. “Yeah, okay.”
Cid clapped him on the back. “You’ll be fine, kid.”
Cor wasn’t so sure about that but chose to say quiet as Cid led him back into the tent.
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And quiet evenings you told me what you thought about
Servants and kings and how everyone is bought
And how no one’s hands are bloodier than God’s
And I won’t be judged for doing as I ought
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Cor's swords!! I found it amusing how they became smaller the older he got, clearly demonstrating he was overcompensating as a kid, haha!
It's almost like a form of ego death, huh....
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