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the-curator1 · 11 months

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Oceans of Time

Vampire!Cardinal Copia x Female Reader

Author's note: This story was inspired by the amazing fic At The Mercy of Time(And Fragmented Memories of you) by @piaart. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend doing so! Additionally, this is the first fic that I am publishing on my blog, so it may have some flaws. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out to me.

AO3 Link

Summary: Copia and you love each other deeply, unconditionally. But cruel Fate decides to pull you apart from his grasp again and again. The story of two star-crossed lovers always reaching out to each other through the endless ocean of time. (≈6300 words)

Tags: Angst, so much angst, I put our poor Cardinal through hell, but I swear there is a happy ending (kind of), catholicism, Copia is originally a Catholic Cardinal, death, grief, loss of faith, implied smut, some depiction of graphic violence, vampirism, blood-drinking, some bits of unhinged and feral Copia, revenge, romance, some fluff, mostly Copia's POV, Shamelessly inspired by 1992 Dracula (the title ofc, a dialogue and a few elements in the story)

Vatican City, Italy, August 1677

“You cannot do such a thing.”

The Camerlengo looked up at the Cardinal with a stern expression. His bushy eyebrows were so furrowed that they almost hid his dark eyes. The corners of his thin lips were turned up in a sneer of disgust and anger. The man had the appearance of a hawk, with his long, pointed nose and vicious, sharp gaze.

“Well, of course, I can, Cardinal. Not only can I do it, but I must." growled the Camerlengo.

Copia felt a shiver run down his spine and looked down again at his hands clasped in his lap. Shame. Anger. Fear. Worry. All these insidious feelings swirled in his mind as in a demonic waltz. But at that moment, all his thoughts were focused on you...

Oh dolcezza… Forgive me.

“You have broken your vows, Cardinal, " continued the camerlengo in a chilling tone, "Consider yourself lucky that I am not asking His Holiness to dismiss you immediately. Despite your lamentable mistake, you are still a good asset to our Church. Besides, the family of your... lover has urged us not to cause a scandal. Let's hope that this mission will help you think straight again. May God guide you back to the right path.”

Copia shot his head back towards his superior. His throat was knotted, and his heart seemed to hiccup in his chest as if it was shaking with sobs.

No. No...

They couldn't...

They had no right to keep you apart like that!

The Cardinal's hands tightened violently on his knees. He wished it was not his kneecaps he was squeezing between his fingers, but the neck of that old disgusting vulture. But he repressed these violent urges as well as he could. Without a word, Copia rose from his chair. Like an automaton, he bowed his head and walked towards the door.

Italy, Rome, August 1677

You looked out of your bedroom window, your hand resting against the cold glass. Mother had carefully locked the door to your balcony... she was probably afraid you would run away or jump to embrace the pavement two floors below.

Rome had never looked so foul and so fair, bathed in the glorious light of the evening. The sun cast its golden rays on the facades of the buildings bearing their bold fronts. Everything here was pompous, grandiose. Everything was too much. There was no questioning the beauty and majesty of the city... but how you hated it at that very moment. In your eyes, it was the monster of stone, marble and cobblestone that held the man you loved in its horrible clawed hands. It symbolized everything that was keeping you apart. You could have run away together… But where to go? Your family would not let you run away… never.

Oh, if he had not been a Cardinal...

The foolishness of your inner reflection struck you at once. If he had not been Cardinal... his beautiful green eyes would never have met yours in the first place. Your beautiful, sweet Cardinal Copia. Why did you have to be discovered? Why had Father decided to cancel his meeting and return home so soon? Why did he have to catch you and the man he had hired to be your preceptor in a passionate embrace?

"It was bound to happen one day, amore..." whispered your Cardinal when he had come to visit you after the incident under cover of darkness. You had been able to escape the confinement of your room with the complicity of one of your maids.

"And now, Copia? What are we going to do now?" you had asked, your eyes brimming with tears. Your forehead rested gently against that of your lover. His gloved hands rested on your face, his thumbs drawing delicate circles on your skin.

"I don't know, my love. I don't know. But I want you to know one thing: Nothing can keep me away from you. Not even the Almighty, not even Satan below... I will always come back to you."

You had not been able to find the words... they were stuck in your throat. You had kissed your lover fervently, pouring all the love you felt for him into that kiss. The streets were quiet around you, there was only the distant shouting of drunkards mingled with the ringing of the church bells. But you could almost hear the wild beating of your broken heart.

Always. Always.

Your time had almost run out. You had untied your favourite silk scarf off your neck and slipped it into his hands. You had carefully infused the scarf with your perfume. Copia had studied your gift with his wide bright eyes. There was a consuming devotion in his eyes as if he were holding Christ's shroud in his hands.

Your Cardinal had kissed your forehead one last time. In the darkness of the street where your secret meeting took place, you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes. He had not said anything after that. Maybe the words were stuck in his throat too. Maybe he was afraid he could not say goodbye anymore if he had said something more.

Copia had taken a few steps back… and almost as quickly as he had arrived, Copia turned on his heels and let himself be swallowed up by the darkness of the streets.

When you heard the stairs creak at the end of the corridor, you snapped out of your thoughts... It was them. You saw them arrive in the courtyard of your house in their austere carriage. You were not surprised. You were fully aware that, regardless of being the daughter of a powerful family, there remained only one destination to seek solace following such disgrace.

September 1677, somewhere off the coast of Italy...

Copia watched the coast disappear in the distance. The sea was calm this morning. But the gentle sound of the waves did not soothe him at all. Copia was well aware of what they must have done to you... and if he had not been so devastated he would have laughed at the irony of the situation. You, who had committed a sacrilege with a member of the clergy, were now compelled to join their ranks for the rest of your life.

He hated every moment he spent away from you and your arms. He hated every breath he took without feeling your skin against his. He hated the people who took him away from you.

Oh, how he missed you...

How he missed your touch, how he missed burying his face into your hair, how he missed the sound of your voice. He felt like a part of him was missing, he felt like they tore a whole limb from him, he felt like they pulled his heart off his chest.

Copia hated the boat that carried him away from the Italian coast. Away from you.

Copia hated the red cassock he wore, it looked like it weighed thousands of pounds. The cross he wore around his neck felt like the chains of a slave

Copia hated the Church.

Copia hated the God that separated him from the love of his life.

But in this whirlwind of hatred and resentment, Copia did not forget the promise he had made. He held the scarf up to his face to breathe in your perfect scent; it was his greatest treasure. Then he held it to his heart...

I'll be back, amore...

Italy, from Genoa to Rome, 16 February 1681

His heart was pounding in his ribcage. It was beating faster and faster as the city of Genoa loomed on the horizon. All those years away from you had been torture. Those years spent in that alien land had been particularly trying for Copia. He had never been able to get used to India and to his mission there. How could he have preached the word of God when he no longer believed in it?

The Camerlengo had been wrong about everything. This mission had not put him back on the right track. On the contrary, all that time spent away from you had only increased his longing for you, his burning desire to be close to you.

All the thoughts that should have been for the Lord were for you. And, God, some of them were anything but righteous. He had not forgotten you, of course. The Cardinal had thought of you every minute of every day. How could he have forgotten your smile? The softness of your hair? The opal of your eyes? The melody of your voice?

He had held your precious scarf to his face every night, breathing in your scent. Sometimes, as his mind lingered on you, he had let his hands roam over his own body. And he had felt no shame for it. Eventually, the scent of you on the scarf began to fade. It broke his heart when he noticed it. But the token was still something that had belonged to you. It had been wrapped around your neck. It had touched the skin of this part of your cherished body, a place where he liked to kiss you... and in the Cardinal’s love-struck mind, it was more than enough.

The Cardinal now had only one thing to look forward to: seeing you again, holding you in his arms and never letting go again.

It hadn't been very difficult to find out which convent your dear parents had sent you to. They were zealous and wealthy Catholics who were graciously giving money to the abbeys and convents of Rome. Especially that one.

He hoped that his authority as Cardinal would give him the right to see you, for even five minutes. His heart had not calmed down since he had got off the boat in Genoa.

Upon returning to Rome, his heart continued to beat furiously in his chest. He did not care to go to Vatican City to announce his return first. The urge to see you was too strong. Standing before the convent gates where you had spent the past four years did little to alleviate his condition. It felt as though his heart longed to escape its confines.

As he had hoped, his red cassock had a great effect on the Mother Superior. She didn't seem suspicious when Copia told her his name. She seemed too focused on this habit to remember that it was the name of the Cardinal at the heart of a scandal within the Church a few years earlier. Even if the scandal did not blow in the eyes of the world, surely she would know about it. There were whispers, even amongst the clergy. But when he mentioned your name and asked to see you, the old woman's eyes darkened

The Cardinal's eyes were still dry when he placed his gloved hand on the tombstone engraved with your name. But he felt as if his whole being was shaking. He felt as if everything he was had been torn to shreds.

He had not been there.

He knelt down on the grass. The cold winter wind was biting at his skin but he did not care. He removed his gloves. His fingers delicately traced the outline of your name in the stone, but they tensed when they reached the dates engraved underneath. Your life was so short... You were too young. Far too young. And good. Far too good. Your family did not even retrieve your body. You were buried in the graveyard of the convent.

He had not been there.

Copia felt an awful pain searing behind his eyes as scorching tears attempted to break through his tightly closed eyelids. It seemed like the rapid beating of his heart, once intense on the boat's deck, had ceased entirely the instant the Mother Superior uttered the words.

Illness. Death.

He could not remember exactly what the old woman had said after "She is gone, Cardinal." He just remembered the feeling of a hot knife through his heart, followed by a dreadful sense of hollowness.

He pulled your scarf out of his pocket and brought it to his face. He knew that he never would be able to breathe in your scent anymore… and it killed him inside.

He had not been there. Copia leaned his forehead on the cold stone as he used to do with you. The realization that you were gone was slowly settling in. It was clawing at what remained of his heart, it was tearing his wretched soul apart.

You were gone and he had not been there for you.

Did you think about him when you realized what was happening to you?

When you had become too weak to do anything but lay in bed, did you hope for him to come back before it was too late? He promised after all…

Did you call out for him when the cold hands of Death seized you?

Still leaning on your tombstone, the Cardinal began to weep. The howling of the wind blended with the sound of his sobs. After a while, Copia stopped crying. He felt like he had no tears left to cry. His sadness had faded. Now he felt a burning anger. A hot anger blazing like the fiery pit of hell. It was their fault.

Those who sent him away. Those who sent you in this wretched place. It was His fault!

The God who had torn you away from his embrace. The God who was doing nothing but taking.

With an almost animalist cry, Copia tore the cross pendant from his neck and threw it away with force. At once, the wind gave a sharp howl, blowing its cold breath in Copia’s face.

“Damn you” the Cardinal snarled, looking up at the sky. “I will avenge her. And not even you will be able to stop me. You will see. You will see”

With that he turned away, not sparing a glance at your tombstone.

The night had thrown its dark cloak upon Rome and the convent. Copia had left earlier without a word, storming out of the convent like a gust of wind. But his madness and desperation led him back there. He had removed his cassock to climb the closed gates of the convent but he had carefully put your scarf into the pocket of his trousers. He had almost impaled himself on the pickets of the fence. But that did not stop him.

The Cardinal was now standing in front of the small chapel, his chest was bare, exposed to the vicious assault of the chilling wind that was howling louder than ever. His chestnut hair was dishevelled. He looked like a madman. Maybe he was a madman. He tried to open the door of the chapel but it was locked. With a growl of rage and frustration, Copia slammed his fists against the wooden door.

Damn it.

The garden that surrounded the chapel and the abbay was plunged into darkness. But the full moon was casting a pale glow, it was enough for Copia to see around. He squinted his eyes. In the dim light cast by the moon above, he saw an axe stuck in a log of wood. The winter was cold, the nuns surely needed some wood to light their fireplace. Copia blessed the cold of winter and the nun who carelessly left this axe here. The Cardinal pulled out the axe of the log and then walked back to the chapel. Without a second thought, he lifted the sharp object in the air and struck the old wooden door with force. He struck again.

Again.

He was breathing heavily. His mind was blank. It was his purpose. It was his design.

He did not care if the sound of the blade hitting the door might awaken the whole convent. Eventually, the door gave in under the Cardinal’s assault. Copia pushed the door roughly and entered the quiet chapel. He walked to the altar, still holding the sharp axe in his hand.

"What are you going to do now?!" Copia shouted in the silence of the chapel. "I told you that I would avenge her! You took her away from me. What do you have to say for yourself?"

His shaky voice echoed in the empty chapel, but there was no answer, no sign. The silence was deafening.

"Well, of course," Copia huffed.

His eyes were wide, his pupils fully blown, as an insane grin curled his lips. Hysterical laughter escaped his mouth.

"You know what, Lord?" he hissed. "I renounce you. You took away my chance to be with her... I know someone who will give me the power to avenge her."

With that, he plunged the axe into the large cross that hovered over the altar. The force of his own strength surprised him as the axe sank into the stone. Suddenly, a crack appeared, and the stone split open. A tiny carmine stream escaped the crack, swiftly rushing down the cross, growing larger and larger by seconds until it transformed into a monstrous red cascade.

The Cardinal instinctively took a step back, yet curiously, he felt no fear. His insane grin spread wider across his face as a strong metallic scent filled his nostrils. Darkness enveloped him like a cloak, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Finally, someone answered his call.

When he opened his eyes again, he witnessed the stream of blood pouring onto the marble floor of the chapel, a sight that ignited an intense sense of thirst as if he had not drunk in ages. He licked his lips. In that instant, the carmine liquid appeared to him like the finest wine. Without hesitation, Copia lunged forward, consumed by greed, and drank voraciously.

Rome, May 1677

You erupted into laughter as your lover pressed himself against you, peppering your neck with a multitude of feather-light kisses. His moustache playfully tickled your skin, sending delightful shivers down your spine. He gently pushed you on the bed.

"Copia!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your laughter, as you wriggled beneath him. "Stop, you are tickling me!"

The Cardinal hummed on your skin, pressing you further on the bed as a low laughter rumbled in his chest. “What if that is my purpose, amore?” he purred in your ear as he planted more kisses on your neck. His teeth were gently nibbling at your delicate skin. His voice was husky and filled with desire. “I love to make you squirm”

Your laughter dissolved into soft moans as Copia tugged the hum of your low cut to press open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. He was not playing innocently anymore, his playful innocence had subsided with a burning desire for you. His warm lips seemed to leave your skin burning and aching for more. The Cardinal pressed his body up against yours, making you gasp.

“Oh amore, you smell so good, your skin is so soft… you feel so good” he whispered as he kissed your neck and your collaborate with increasing fervor You blushed profusely, running your hands across his back. If this was so wrong, why did he feel so right? "Copia," you murmured, worry piercing in your voice, "My maid is in the next room... what if she hears us?"

Undeterred by your concerns, the Cardinal continued his delightful ministrations, his touch growing bolder as he gently lifted your dress, causing your blush to deepen.

"She will not hear us, amore... she never hears us," he murmured against your skin, his voice was carrying a playful smile. "She thinks I am a righteous Cardinal who teaches you about Roman theatre. How boring…"

You chuckled softly, throwing your head back into the pillow to let your lover devour your skin. But the worry did not leave your mind

“But…” Copia's finger gently pressed against your lips, silencing your words

“Hush, Tesoro… I need you now. Let me love you… please” he pleaded, his gorgeous green eyes filled with longing.

As you looked into your lover’s beautiful eyes, you found that you could not resist him and his warm embrace. You wanted this. As much as him.

But you both knew that the hardest thing to do now was to keep quiet amidst the intensity of your embrace.

Vatican City, later in the night, 16 February 1681

Copia plunged his hands into the fountain, meticulously cleaning the blood from his face and skin. His hunger was appeased. A chilling calmness was surrounding him. Your father's life had been swiftly taken and Copia could still taste his bitter blood on his tongue. The man had consistently treated you poorly, he would yell at you, he would belittle you, and he did not care about your happiness. He had banished you to that wretched convent without remorse. He was one of the people responsible for your cruel separation and he deserved his fate. Copia was certain of it. The pathetic man had begged for his life, but Copia swiftly reduced him to silence when he snatched his throat with his teeth.

The Cardinal gazed at his own reflection in the tranquil water of the fountain, his eyes fixed on the image staring back at him. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat as he noticed a profound change. His once vibrant green left eye had transformed, now displaying a chilling white hue. Copia stood there in shock for a moment… then a wide smile spread across his face.

He really did answer my call, he mused, I don’t know what I am anymore… but I know I have the power to avenge my darling.

He mused that his new gaze would look so much better with some black paint around his eye. Once he was sure that his hands were clean from the dirty blood of your father, he retrieved the silk scarf from his pocket. He held it to his face; savouring the lingering traces of your sweet fragrance. He found that he could smell those last remnants better than before.

“Do not worry, amore,” he whispered, “I will exact vengeance upon them all, and then I shall uncover a way to reunite us once more.”

With that, he put the cherished scarf back in his pocket and headed toward the clergy’s quarters. He had a Camerlengo to rip apart

Time passed slowly, the seasons changed, and the world kept turning and wavering faster.

But Copia remained.

Copia had found all the people responsible for your separation and he destroyed them all. But once he was done, what more could he do? He was now a creature of the night and he could not go back to who he was before. Copia harboured no desire to do so. He embraced his new existence and the power bestowed upon him by the Dark Lord. He stood there, a timeless observer. He would watch the people around him bloom and wither in the blink of his white eye and then fall into the pit of oblivion.

But Copia remained.

And he would not let you fall into oblivion. The world may have moved on, and Rome may have forgotten but Copia embarked this endless journey through the vast ocean of time, carrying the flame of his love for you. He would not let a day pass without mourning you. Each night under cover of darkness, he would visit you. He would lay flowers in your tomb. He would kneel beside your resting place, whispering words of love and devotion, hoping you would somehow hear them.

You were gone.

But Copia remained.

He remained in his loneliness, in his longing for you. The price to pay for being able to avenge you was high: He had to navigate without you.

Copia remained.

Despair would gnaw at Copia's soul as he grappled with the cruel realization that the memory of your voice was slipping away from him.

Copia remained.

But he did not forget his promise. He knew you were there. Somewhere.

He would sail until he finds you.

Rome, a Garden in the Sun, April 1677

“Amore, you do really have a gift, you know that?” You smiled, feeling your lover's arms envelop you as he rested his chin on your shoulder. The soft fabric of your silk scarf gently caressed his skin. Your hand moved with precision, delicately tracing lines on the paper.

“Hush” you urged, your voice barely above a whisper “You will scare it away…” You gestured toward the small sparrow perched on a nearby branch, its cheerful chirping filling the air. Copia kissed the top of your head. The garden of your parent’s house embraced you both with its serene beauty. You were well hidden behind a massive oak. The gentle ray of sunshine caressed his skin. The scent of the blooming flowers filled his nostrils. The air was filled with the sound of chirping birds and the soft rustling sound of leaves in the breeze

He was supposed to teach you latin right now… but the weather was so beautiful and you wanted to draw. You had pleaded him to let you go outside. How could he say no to you?

“My little artist, so perfect” he hummed contently as he held you in his arms.

In an instant, the sparrow spread his wings and flew away, startled by the snap of a branch. Disappointment washed over you, and you let out a sigh as you set your pencil down on the sketchbook.

“Oh cara…” Copia leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. At that moment, he made a silent promise to himself. One day, you would both fly away like the little sparrow. He would whisk you away to a breathtaking place, a sanctuary filled with thousands and thousands of beautiful birds, where you could freely admire their splendour to your heart's content.

London, England, October 1808

Copia's existence was lonely, an enduring consequence of his immortality. He had to live alone. He did not want anyone besides, anyone but you. Copia had left Rome for a while now, reluctantly leaving your tomb behind him. He would go from city to city, from country to country, hoping that he would find a sign of you.

But he had been searching for so long now and the former Cardinal started to feel hope falter within his heart. Could he ever find you again? Were you really out there? Maybe his twisted mind had been deluded. You were dead and gone. How could he ever be able to find you again? He held his hand to the pocket of his black cloak, the place where he kept your silk scarf close to his heart… time had damaged it and your scent had surely faded away now but he kept it nonetheless.

Copia wandered in Spitalfields. It was late at night. The moon was throwing its pale light on the grey cobblestone of the street. The sound of silence filled the air only disturbed by the echoes of his heels on the pavements. The market which was usually overcrowded looked eerie at night. But none of those things aroused fear in Copia’s heart. Copia was hungry.

Was there anyone foolish enough to go out at night in such a wretched place? Copia hoped so. But as he looked around, he saw nothing but cats and some rats. The immortal being wrinkled his nose… he had eaten rats a few times before to alleviate his unbearable hunger. But tonight, he did not want to feed on some rodents. He wanted fresh blood. He wanted to feel the thrill of sinking his teeth in someone’s neck. He had become this kind of monster after all... And he had done that many times before. Suddenly, Copia stopped.

There she was. His prey.

The woman was sitting on the edge of a small wall before an old statue, her hair was hiding her face. She was focused on something, blissfully unaware of the threat that was hanging over her. What was she doing out in this place at night anyway? This girl was undoubtedly looking to get herself killed! Copia licked his lips, his hunger growing. He could already taste her sweet blood on his tongue. He would...

Suddenly, the woman turned her head toward him. She gasped upon seeing him, her sketchbook dropping to the floor. In that instant, Copia's cold heart skipped a beat.

It could not be...

This woman wore your face!

Her eyes, her hair, the outline of her lips, the colour of her skin... She was your spitting image. His eyes snapped to the sketchbook on the ground. When it fell, it had opened on the page of a drawing… a sparrow. Copia felt his heart sink into his chest. His eyes widened, and his face turned paler than ever. He took a step back as the woman jumped off the wall

"I have a knife!" the woman shouted. "I won't hesitate to cut you open if you try something!"

Copia's heart sank even further and his hunger disappeared all at once. The woman had your voice, he was certain of it. Even if he could not remember the melody of yours a moment before, he felt it was unmistakable; she was you. He had finally found you.

“I will not hurt you, bella,” Copia said eventually.

He took a step further, knowing that the darkness still concealed him from you. You pulled out a knife from your cleavage and pointed it towards him. A low chuckle escaped Copia’s lips, to his dismay, it sounded sinister. He found that he had forgotten how to laugh gleefully. But he did not let this dreadful realization hit him too hard. He had found you again.

“Oh cara… You don’t know how long I have searched for you” In the dim moonlight, he saw you frown. A hint of confusion and terror flashed in your bright eyes.

“What…?”

Copia stood just a couple of meters away from you. Now, you could see his face.

Please remember me.

The vampire closed the distance between the two of you. You were obviously scared, trapped by the wall behind you. Frozen like a deer in headlights, you couldn't move. He knew he probably looked scary with his dissimilar eyes and the black paint around them. But slowly, and with careful movements, Copia raised his hands to your beautiful face. He was shaking with emotion, his mismatched eyes filled with love and devotion. Please remember me.

"Please do not be scared, amore," he whispered, his voice soft like the murmur of a summer breeze.

You were still holding the knife toward him, but you never struck him. He could see that fear was gripping you, yet did not do anything to stop him from touching you. Eventually, his hands grazed your face as he cupped your cheeks tenderly. It felt like an electric shock, surpassing anything he had ever dreamed of; it was pure bliss. You were here, and he was touching you. The knife slipped from your trembling hand.

Please remember me.

He could see that you were closing your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for the worst, but instead of something harmful, you only felt his gentle touch.

Please remember me.

“I have crossed oceans of time to find you” he murmured, drawing soft circles on your skin Time seemed to stop as you opened your beautiful eyes to look at him. But when he eagerly plunged his gaze into yours, the sharp knife of sorrow pierced through Copia’s heart. You did not remember.

Your eyes were filled with confusion and intense fear. Suddenly, you shoved him away and ran. Almost sounding like a wounded animal, he called your name desperately—or the name that was your many years ago. But you did not stop. You did not turn around. You ran. And let yourself be swallowed up by the darkness of the streets.

Copia stood there for a long, stunned. He felt like his cold heart was bleeding out in his chest. With a shaky breath, he leaned to retrieve the sketchbook and the knife you had left behind in his shaking hands. They would join your silk scarf on his aching heart.

The next time Copia saw you, you were living another life, another life that he could have shared with you. Once again, he tried to reach you, only to be met with confusion and fear. His heart broke each time he tried until eventually the pieces of his heart could not be split any further.

It happened again many times after. He met you again. And again. It seemed as though the universe was trying to make up for all the years you had spent away from his eyes. However, it remained consistent in its cruelty. He would encounter you in all your lifetimes..

After a while, he decided to stop trying to get to you, to explain to you that you were his soulmate. Once he discovered you, he would simply watch you from afar most of the time. Every time you drew your last breath, he would embark on another search for you. He would watch you navigate through your lives, sometimes with a darling by your side.

How he wished he could be them...

The jealousy was hard to endure. Sometimes, he would even think of ripping these people apart out of bitter envy. But how could he blame them? You were so wonderful. And, in the end, Copia wanted you to be happy.

But as time flowed, and as he met and fell in love with you repeatedly, a cruel pattern emerged. Each time he discovered you more swiftly than before, fate seemed determined to tear you away from him just as quickly.

In this lifetime, you were a valiant nurse leaving to care for soldiers during the war. He saw you for a short moment on the platform of a train station before you climbed onto the train that would lead you to your ruin. In another, you were an ill girl of the night whom he managed to hold in his arms for one blissful night.

Every time, you were snatched away by Death with increasing haste. And always, you were robbed of your youth. The universe seemed eager to pluck you at the height of your bloom, as if unwilling to witness the slow decay of the magnificent flower you were.

But that meant you never knew a peaceful death.

That one time he attempted to spare himself the agony of finding you only to lose you again, you crossed his path unexpectedly.

The oceans of time were moody and tumultuous. You could never travel on the same boat. Each time he reached out for you, to grab you in his arms and never let go, the storm would snatch you away from him. Whatever he was trying to do, his heart ached. But he found that the pain was more intense when he could not see you...

So he would keep looking for you. Again. And again.

He would find you.

He would lose you. Again. And again.

Italy, Rome, March 1676

"Father, is this necessary?" you asked, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Your father glared at you from across the room, his disapproving gaze piercing through your soul.

"Yes, it is," he hissed, his tone sending shivers down your spine. "You need a prestigious education. You are my daughter. I won't allow you to be a disgrace or a disappointment. Is that understood?"

You remained silent, you knew he did not really expect an answer. You were well aware of your father's harsh and bitter nature. He had always resented you, perhaps because you were a girl instead of the precious son he had desired. But you were his daughter nonetheless, he had to keep up appearances. You knew he would not tolerate anything that could bring shame upon the family.

Turning away, you looked out the window of the opulent living room, yearning to be in the garden, drawing and savouring the melodies of the birds as they welcomed the arrival of spring.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts.

You didn't turn around. You heard your father stride towards the door and open it.

"Ah, Your Eminence... it is such a pleasure to meet you," your father greeted with feigned politeness.

"Well, the pleasure is all mine, Signore," responded an unfamiliar voice, smooth and melodious.

A shiver ran down your spine upon hearing it. The voice was as sweet as honey, soothing and enchanting. You dared not turn around. Your father called your name, his tone a bit harsh. Slowly, you pivoted to face the man who had just entered the room. Your eyes met his captivating green gaze, and for a moment, it felt as if time had frozen around you. This man was undeniably handsome. When your father mentioned a Cardinal, you had envisioned an elderly and wrinkled figure. However, this Cardinal appeared quite young and attractive.

Donned in a red cassock, a wooden cross hanging from his neck, he possessed sharp features, with a slightly pointed nose. A small mustache graced his upper lip, while sideburns descended along his cheeks. His chestnut hair peeked from beneath the crimson biretta atop his head.

"H-Hello, Signorina," the Cardinal stammered after what felt like an eternity of gazing into each other's eyes. "It's... truly a pleasure to meet you."

A smile formed on your lips. In the end, you were grateful for your father's insistence on teaching you Latin.

Los Angeles, United States, after years of wandering in the dark…

Copia had finally started another life. Some people had reached out to him, knowing what he was, and they did not mind at all. On the contrary, he became a symbol of their faith. Their Dark Lord had heard his prayers and blessed him with the power of darkness. His immortality and power symbolized the almightiness of Satan. He no longer had to hunt for blood; they provided it for him. Copia had regained the title of Cardinal, offering a slight distraction from his pain.

Years had passed since he last encountered you in one of your many lifetimes. It seemed like the universe had finally ceased its torture, and now Copia sailed on calmer waters. But he had to endure the pain of your absence again. Yet, Copia could not help but wonder why he suddenly stopped meeting you. Was the universe preparing something? What other vicious tricks did it have in store for him?

He tried to dismiss these thoughts and focus on the tasks ahead. But for now, he wanted to make the most of his peaceful afternoon stroll in the garden. Its serene beauty and the sweet smell of the flowers gently enveloped him. The gentle ray of sunshine caressed his skin, and the birds were chirping...

"Um, hello? Cardinal?"

The voice behind him startled him for two reasons—the suddenness of the person's appearance and the oh-so-familiar melody of the voice.

Cara mia...

Copia slowly turned around.

There you stood before him, radiating beauty and sweetness. Your face, your hair, your eyes, the colour of your skin and the beautiful outline of your lips. You smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. His eyes wandered to the silk scarf you wore around your delicate neck. It looked like the one he had no stop wearing against his heart all these years.

Of all the encounters he had with you, it was the first time you approached him on your own accord, the first time you reached out to him. A glimmer of hope shone bright in his mind. Warmth settled in his heart as he smiled back at you.

Maybe it was finally time. Maybe his journey through the oceans of time had finally come to an end. Perhaps he could finally set foot ashore.

#cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #copia x reader #dracopia #cardinal copia #vampire #vampire au #cardinal copia x reader #ghost bc

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the-matron-of-ravens · 8 months

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Genuinely curious, what are your thoughts on Dancer and FCG cuz like, he Literally, not figuratively, tried to kill her and did kill all of her companions at the time. I can see being critical cuz she doesn't seem to treat them like sentient beings, but even in the canon... most of the automatons aren't. Just some of the really old ones from Aeor/other old cities, right? So? She got a whoops!sentient microwave, treated them like a microwave, they killed all her friends and almost her and she's supposed to....? Be good buds with them? Also I know it's said that she trauma dumped on FCG, but let's switch it from microwave to personal journal - how would YOU feel if your personal journal popped to life and attacked you for trauma dumping? IDK haha I guess Idk you opinions and I'm just responding to my projected assumptions of your opinion. REALLY I'd 100% sincerely would like to hear your thoughts. I was really bothered by FCG pushing to meet with Dancer. Like jeez just leave her alone, you're her literal sleep paralysis demon, read the room.

Hey! Thanks for the ask, I put this a little bit in the tags but I can elaborate more here. (Edit: elaborate A LOT MORE it seems)

So here goes, I don’t know if you meant it this way but the analogy of a journal or microwave is helpful here because that’s exactly how Dancer treated FCG - as a tool to be used. But they *aren’t*. FCG is a whole being with emotions and thoughts all of which are apparent and so clearly distinct from other automatons.

So tbh, I think the perspective of “whoops! Sentient bot” makes sense for like a month, max. Not years. After all, we have seen NPC after NPC recognize FCG is a sentient being almost immediately after meeting him. I find it VERY hard to believe that Dancer never realized it herself.

Additionally, we need to step out of the plot itself and look at FCG’s mechanics. We know that every time he heals, takes damage for someone else, etc. he takes stress points, and that once past a certain threshold his switch flips and he goes full Murderbot.

We also know that rest and recovery are what reduces FCG’s stress points. So that tells us that Dancer was using and using and using FCG and not letting him rest (enough? At all?) even though he needed it. Because again he’s a person not a tool.

Even when they met back up recently and FCG sobered her up she remarked how she missed him doing that for her. And while I don’t expect her to miss him, I do think it’s indicative of her interest in him never being about him as a person but only how he could serve her.

And if we want to criticize FCG for his lack of boundaries, inability to take no for an answer and pathological need to fix Dancer sure that’s fair. He needs to unlearn a lot of that and quick. But we then have to ask ourselves where did those traits come from? They didn’t come from nowhere.

FCG is mentally extremely YOUNG. Aside from the 6?-ish Months spent with Ashton all he remembers is his time with Dancer. So, if FCG has a pathological need to fix others, to help them, and feels worthless if he’s unable to do so - that comes from how Dancer treated and trained him.

That doesn’t just go away; ESPECIALLY not when FCG doesn’t even remember going postal and doesn’t see to have the (IMO) most clear and realistic view of his and Dancer’s relationship.

After all look how he interacts with the Changebringer. She’s his surrogate Mom/Dancer. He needs someone to tell him how to feel, think, and what’s Good and Bad because he doesn’t know how to do it for himself - because he wasn’t *taught* to.

But here’s my real question. What do we call one person keeping another person in service to them, with no compensation or personhood to be had, and with no intentions of releasing that person from that service? That’s slavery my dude. AT BEST indentured servitude.

(but that implies there’s a debt. What debt? Waking him up? He didn’t ask for that; that was her choice.

And again this sounds a lot like children being “indebted” to parents for giving them life, housing, feeding, etc. )

That’s the part I can’t get over. And that’s the part I can’t get behind where FCG is the abusive one. The power differential was NEVER in FCG’s court; he never once thought of himself as a person or as anything but in service of “Soul Touched”. That complete sacrifice of yourself and your needs (or an inability to even know you HAVE needs) comes from being in relationships where those things are expected/demanded.

So, yeah, he literally tried to kill her, and I gotta be real I’m not surprised. Even children of abusive parents who they love snap sometimes. Because again, that’s mentally what he was at the time. A child.

But even then, no I don’t think it’s unreasonable or unrealistic for Dancer to be traumatized or not want to see FCG again. I don’t even think she’s wrong to say “I can’t give you closure” because closure isn’t something other people give you.

But the way she’s been discussed to be largely clueless about his sentience, blameless in his blow up, and FCG’s victim? I just can’t get behind that. Like at all.

#Critical Role #CR Spoilers #FCG #Dancer #TW: slavery mention #of the fantasy variety #tw: parental abuse #I don’t think this is discourse (moreso Meta IMO) but if folks feel differently I’ll add a tag #fresh cut grass

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pellaaearien · 1 year

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WIP Word Search

Okay @cuubism AND @landwriter tagged me in that WIP word search game that’s going around and since they are two people I love and respect I shall oblige, despite the fact that I only have one WIP - for Sandman. And there’s currently only one unpublished chapter.

So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to do one word from each WIP in my docs folder. Whichever one gives the best results. And you all shall see my secret shame.

cuubism’s words were: eat, world, run, blood, glass

EAT - (ffxiv) a snippet of my oc x Aymeric that I wrote inspired by that video where a man wakes up from anesthetic and hits on his own wife

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, with utter sincerity. Eyn’ara could feel a flush rising to her cheeks. “How did I get so lucky?” He leaned back, sighing dreamily. Eyn’ara bit her lip to keep from laughing, torn between amusement and concern.

“Just take it easy, love,” she soothed. “Eat your biscuit.”

Suddenly, he lifted his head again, intent. “How long have we been married?”

Smiling helplessly, Eyn’ara shook her head. “I’ll tell you if you eat your biscuit,” she said.

Aymeric looked at the biscuit like he’d forgotten it was there, and took a delicate bite, staring at her as he chewed expectantly. Eyn’ara’s heart swelled with love for this ridiculous man.

“Four years,” she answered.

WORLD - (dragon age) fenhawke fic

Fenris looked to Hawke in hope of seeing that look. Cold. Merciless. Righteous. Stealing over the face of the habitually jovial Hawke, it did not look out of place. Its rarity merely heightened its significance. It was the look he imagined an avenging Andraste might have worn. Seeing it directed at slavers reminded him why he'd sworn his blade to her. Times like these reassured him he'd made the right decision.

“Not a chance.” Hawke's voice was thin ice on a winter's day. He could feel it in his chest like a breath of frigid air. She met Fenris' eyes.

Had he not been buried wrist-deep in a slaver's spleen, the world might have melted away around him. He'd be a regular attendee of the Chantry if this was the god he was praying to.

RUN - (sandman) Another Word for Ache (you won the jackpot!)

Death sighs. “Our sibling,” she says.

That word again. “Would this be the same sibling who tried to get Dream to spill family blood?”

Her eyes widen. It’s a natural enough expression but it sits uneasily on her face and Hob gets the impression that not much shocks her.

“He told you about that?”

Hob shrugs. “I think he was trying a new tactic, trying to see how much information would get me to run away.”

“That does sound like him,” she says, shaking her head ruefully.

BLOOD - (voltron) sheith fic

If Keith was smart, he would have disengaged, tried to find some way to get through to the automaton bearing down on him, but some defensive instinct of his own has been triggered and the chance passes him by. He’s already hurtling off the edge of too far when Shiro leaves an obvious opening and Keith lunges for it, hearing the telltale hum of the Galra mechanism powering up as he does, bright purple light flashing in his periphery.

He lands a solid hit against Shiro’s side but it’s already too late because Shiro grabs his arm with his flesh and blood left hand and twists and the next thing Keith knows he’s on his back, looking up into that implacable, beloved face, the prosthetic humming an inch from his throat.

GLASS - (doctor who) Locum Tenens

At last, she reached a door at the end of the hallway. The song in her mind swelled, and Rose could tell that behind the door was the music’s source. She pushed open the door, and walked through it into a field of deep red grass. The sky above was a burnt orange. Rose looked around herself in wonder. In the distance, a gilded city marked the horizon, shimmering under a glass dome. There were two suns in the sky.

landwriter’s words were: pale, hope, lips, ache, laugh, morning

PALE - (ffxiv) my oc x Aymeric, hurt/comfort fic

“...Very well.” The words were a sigh of defeat she tried not to read too much into. Slowly, as though the motion pained him, he uncrossed his arms, peeling back the layers he was wrapped in.

She tried to steel herself not to react, but her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t help it. The first thing to be revealed was an angry scar across his throat, the burn of a rope pressed into his pale skin. She clenched her fingers around the pot of salve to keep them from balling into fists and held back an angry hiss. They hurt him. She abruptly wished they were all twelve — thirteen — of them alive and in front of her so that she could kill them again, slower this time.

HOPE - (lucifer) deckerstar fic

“Are you certain? You needn’t even take your eyes off the building.”

It was indicative of the kind of week she’d had that Chloe even entertained the thought. Thought of his clever fingers dipping south, slipping beneath the button of her jeans…

“No, Lucifer,” she said, in what she hoped was a quelling tone.

He lazily removed his fingers from her skin, no trace of repentance in his movements or his expression. “But you considered it, for a moment. I think that’s a win.”

LIPS - (doctor who) kidfic

“Listen, Doctor. I’ve got… I’ve got something to tell you.” His lips twitched, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue. “I lied to you,” she said in a rush. She’d been waiting for so many years to say those words it was almost a rush to finally say them aloud. “On the beach, on Bad Wolf Bay, I said the baby was mum’s, but it wasn’t. It was mine.”

ACHE - surprisingly nothing, given one of my fics literally has it in the title

LAUGH - (ffxiv) my oc x Aymeric, Shadowbringers fic

He laughed louder. “No, indeed. Sometimes I long for the days when our problems were so simple.” He stretched leisurely, and Eyn’ara took the opportunity to let her eyes trace the slim length of him. “Our problems are now of the negotiating table, and though I would be the last to dismiss your labours, cannot be as summarily dealt with.”

Eyn’ara snorted. “I could still try to hit them with my axe.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

MORNING - (ffxiv) my oc x Aymeric

Aymeric sipped, wishing he could be as certain. He knew Eyn’ara’s life was frequently unpredictable, and it was entirely possible that she had gotten pulled away with no time to inform him of the change in plans. It was the risk they’d taken by choosing to arrive at the event separately. Without her, the evening ahead of him stretched on interminably. Even without the noble harpies circling around him to deal with, her teasing voice that morning via linkpearl had promised him a surprise, and ever since he’d been able to think of nothing else. He was only mortal, and he missed his wife.

I’m not tagging anyone because everyone’s been tagged and I’m ashamed. Do not perceive me

#thanks for the tags tho!!#I super appreciate you thinking of me

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always-together · 2 years

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Tagging both people Garnet already has friendships with and mutuals I haven’t had a chance to interact with yet: @serpentine-rogue @ethereallyloved @queenverdigris @advnterccs @monmuses @gemsandmore @castleofmxses @docozoxo @thenihilistofthevoid @ssatxr @automaton-otto @the-expatriate @manenimittliv @redlineoffate @kaiju-crimson-storyandask

Finally. After hours of procrastinating and having no muse, many many apologies, and lots of feeling sorry and horrible over abandoning you guys like that, the time is finally here.

I’M BACK!! FOR REAL THIS TIME!! Subject to college and life stuff getting in the way but yes! I hope to be back for real from now on!

Once more, I’m sorry I just kind of up and left for a few months. Especially to all of the lovely mutuals that followed me and then I never did anything with you. I hope to rectify that as long as you’re still willing to write with me!

And that starts right now! Since it’s spooky season, like this post for a Halloween-themed starter with Garnet! Please specify which muse if you’re multimuse, and which blog if you have multiple blogs like me!

I hope I never do something like that to you guys again; I genuinely feel horrible. But for now, let’s get some festive stuff going! I’m gonna be a bit busy today, but after I get to my preexisting threads on my other blog I’ll be writing up starters here!

Thank you all for your infinite patience! I’m happy to be writing with you all again ❤️❤️

#[I hope you all can forgive me and still want to write with me 😣]#(I love you! bye!): out of character #(let’s go just me and you): starter call

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void-tiger · 2 years

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Hiii, since you really like Jiro (which is understandable, who wouldn't, he deserves all the hugs <3), I was wondering what you thought of him repeatedly choosing to be a paladin and name his character something identical to Shiro in Monsters and Mana. Because I was thinking it might perhaps say something about a subconscious desire to actually be a paladin, or be Shiro

I wholeheartedly agree!!

“If I can’t be Shiro? Fine. I’ll be his brother instead. And my goals are still the same, and they’re inline with his.”

And yeah. Jiro chose to be a Paladin, even after he believed he was seemingly rejected by BlackLion. Keith, meanwhile, literally kept running away which resulted in, y’know, the Team nearly DYING. And while grounded? Guess who built the coalition while Keith kept noping off with the Blades (who demanded a “new Black Lion pilot”)? That’s right, Jiro did (alongside Allura, Coran, and the rest of the Paladins.)

But Jiro’s the one who managed it since Allura was split between Diplomat/Commander and Paladin duties; and as we see later on when Coran takes it over once Jiro’s flying with Black Lion…Coran’s skills lie elsewhere. Could Allura have done it herself? Yes, but why should she have to do it alone. Could Shiro have done it with Allura and Coran? Again, yes. (But—by no fault of Shiro’s—Shiro wasn’t there to do it.)

So. Jiro is no replacement for Shiro whatsoever. Shiro is quite frankly MUCH better as a field captain than Jiro is, and more amicable overall with, say, keeping the Team’s morale up. But. Jiro still has his own skills. (Let’s be honest, Shiro would be pretty bored and frustrated with only getting to command from central command—the REAL Shiro anyway, not that Greyhaired Walking Corpse Automaton—and moreso than Allura and Jiro were. What really got to Allura was feeling disconnected from the Paladins, and what really got to Jiro was believing BlackLion finally rejected “him as Shiro” as “too broken” or “too corrupted.”)

And Jiro chose to step up and fill a role, then stepped up again to try anyway after thinking he’d been rejected to be Paladin. He tries. He chooses. And it’s not because of what he’s “programed to do”, it’s because he truly wants to. (He also chooses to deny what he wants when it’s seemingly in direct conflict with what BlackLion or the Team wants or needs. He also does his best to apologize and make amends when he screws up and hurts his friends. Team Voltron bicker A Lot. It got more mean-spirited in the middle and late seasons, but. Pretty sure Jiro’s the only one to constantly apologize, even when he’s not in the wrong (but he handled it poorly.))

…so keep in mind this Fanfic (Series) is on hiatus atm, but Jiro 1) repeatedly choosing to be a paladin and 2) arguably naming himself subconsciously is what sent my brain down a “Jiro Lives + Stays + becomes a Paladin in his own right” rabbit hole. (You can see my working ideas in my Grey Paladin Jiro, Grey Paladin of Time, Veeladee Fixit, Blackbox Verse, Rewrite the Stars, Shirotember, cloneganes, and triganes tags. Some of the ideas there have been discarded, but I’ve got more “Jiro as Paladin” and “Jiro as Shiro’s Brother/Jiro with SpaceFam” content there. I do plan on writing actual fic besides the one fic started and restarted sitting on my harddrive, but I’ve had to step away for a bit.)

But. The general idea?

—Canon diverges after that second (offscreen) DnD Session. (Coran is still a pretty vindictive DM, but feels actual remorse for one-shotting Jiro’s characters with fudged rolls to try and force him to pick any other class to play.)

—Jiro’s more insecure about his place as a Paladin than ever, and confronts BlackLion about it.

—BlackLion responds by pulling Jiro into the astral plane, where finally someone finds Shiro.

—(Obviously Shiro is rescued—in his own body tyvm—and remains Black Paladin…but he’s got a LOT of abandonment issues to sort through. Things are ROUGH because 1) such good angst potential but mostly? 2) …just let Shiro be upset. He has every right to be.)

So…

—Shiro deserves to be Black Paladin (and while the Lions ALL officially accept other Pilots, Paladinship is no longer questioned. For Anyone.)

—Jiro deserves to have his OWN Paladinship. With his own Lion. (For pity’s sake the Second Meteor is right there.) Also: White Paladin of Light Allura? White Paladin Allura.

—(Jiro’s Paladinship should reflect how his skills compliment both Shiro and Allura Space, Light, and Time. Grey as the blurred gradient between the two yet still distinct in its own right, not a “discount” any more than green is for yellow and blue.)

..And yeah, space to allowed for things to be very, very messy. (But they get better. Really.)

#askbox shenanigans #burning-moths #jiro shirogane #grey paladin jiro #grey paladin of time #rewrite the stars #blackbox verse #veeladee fixit #cloneganes #triganes #black pilot jiro #…uh…so this…got away from me. I might’ve rambled off target…a lot #(believe it or not I actually cut a bunch of rambling out 😅)#I really do plan on Actually Writing (& posting) I swear!!#but uh. had to finally admit to myself that I had to try and sort out my health first. then go at it from a less obsessive mindset later #hence allllll the tags. (but no new posts made in…uh. prolly about a year?

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eldritchtree · 3 years

Photo

So... I’m doing Art Fight. Here is a card thing about that!

Here is my page: https://artfight.net/~eldritchtree

Feel free to DM me with a link to a specific character of yours if you’d like! No guarantees but I’m looking for inspiration for AF pieces.

#art fight #art fight 2021 #eye contact #uncanny valley #a bit? feels like the right tag for my automaton #ask to tag

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randoimago · 3 years

Note

I have a stupid request, as I just finished CritRole Campaign 3!! It's my first Campaign and I'm really excited :) So, what would be F.C.C, Ashton, Fearne, Laudna, and Bertrand's responses to S/O booping their nose. Please and Thank you~ <3

Booping Their Nose

FANDOM: Critical Role

Character(s): Ashton, Bertrand Bell, Fearne Calloway, Fresh Cut Grass, Laudna

Type of Request: Headcanons

Warning: Campaign 3 Spoilers!!

Word Count: 591

Note(s): It's not stupid! I love these requests! And I’m so excited to write for these babies! I hope you enjoy the joy that is Critical Role too ❤️

I will say I had a good chuckle when I tagged “Fresh Cut Grass x Reader”. I don’t think this is what is meant when people say “Go touch grass”

Ashton

They’d try to grab your hand when you go to boop their nose. Definitely makes a face and looks at you with a tad bit of disgust due.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” They would ask. When you mention giving him a nose boop then you’d get a scoff from them.

If you’re in public, then they’re going to act a bit repulsed by the whole thing.

But if you’re in private then Ashton will 100% point at something behind you, say “Look over there!” and when you do they will reach over and boop your own nose.

You’re not allowed to mention them being sweet to you. They have a reputation as a bastard to hold up.

Bertrand

Probably ends up sneezing after you boop his nose. He turns away so he doesn’t sneeze on you, might sneeze on someone else, but not you.

Asks if he had something on his face and you were getting rid of it for him. When you mention it was to boop his nose, he’s confused.

He’s an old ass man (not that he’d ever admit that) so you might have to explain to him what “booping the nose” means.

Let’s out a triumph “Ah ha!” after you explain. Of course it’s a way to display your affections to him! Very adorable, S/O.

But be prepared cause he’ll boop your nose now too! He’s old tho so probably forgets the whole booping nose conversation.

Fearne

Has a confused smile on her face when you boop her nose.

“Did you mean to poke my face?” She’d ask you so you’d have to explain to her what it means. “Ooh, so it’s not you ‘stealing my nose’ then.” no Fearne.

She’s from the Feywild so there wasn’t many booping nose unless it was to yank someone’s soul out. So this is a nice change up.

Will have such a happy smile whenever you boop her little faun nose. She’ll gladly go and boop your nose too.

Probably boops your nose a lot more than you booped her nose. Just because it’s super cute. Might draw confused or annoyed looks from others but she doesn’t care.

Fresh Cut Grass

Gives you a slow blink like a cat does once you boop their nose. They’re trying to think if they’ve seen any humanoid interactions like you just did before coming up blank.

“Did you cast a spell on me?” They would ask. They know some spells are touch based so that’s the conclusion they have.

You explain to them about booping their nose, which they interrupt with how they don’t have a nose, and that it’s a way of showing affection.

They will give you a smile once it processes in their mind. They will then hesitantly reach up and touch your own nose with their finger.

“I technically can’t feel cause I’m an automaton, but I think that was nice.” They are adorable.

Laudna

Gives you a slow blink, but like an owl does when you boop her nose. Then she begins to slowly grin, it’s kind of creepy.

“That’s a couple thing right! That’s what couples do?” She is cackling at that. Again, kind of creepy but she’s not trying to be! It’s her aesthetic.

Will gladly boop you on the nose back.

She does it a tad harder than she meant to but she lets out a laugh when she does and then goes to boop your nose again.

Honestly, Laudna is thriving from the physical affection and the idea of doing a normal couple thing with you!

#cr spoilers #critical role x reader #laudna x reader #laudna #fresh cut grass #fresh cut grass x reader #f.c.g.#f.c.g. x reader #fearne calloway #fearne calloway x reader #ashton #ashton x reader #bertrand bell #bertrand bell x reader

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities.

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

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cozyenigma · 3 years

Text

An Illuminating Interview

(Y’all I wrote this at WARP SPEED. Also- if you haven’t already, please watch the lil choose your own adventure video posted today so you don’t get spoiled!)

Pairing- Wilford/Reader

Word Count- 823

Request?- Nope!

Summary- Wilford has a new invention to help streamline the interview process and boost his viewership. You weren’t so sure about it. Especially when you score yourself an impromptu interview...

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid

"What is that?"

You had walked into the room and come face to face with Wilford and... what you guessed was supposed to be a robot version of him. It looked rough around the edges, to say the least. Scuffed paint and exposed inner workings made it look like it was pieced together from scraps.

Wilford looked up with a grin as you walked closer. "This, my dear, is the next big thing. The Wilford Automated Interview Automaton!"

He stepped back, presenting the machine with a flourish.

"You... made an interview robot?"

"An interview automaton!" He hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and mosied over to you. "Or the WAIA for short. And while I'm flattered at the notion, I don't quite have the technical know-how or ah- penchant for horror necessary to make this thing."

Despite that note of reassurance, he snaked an arm around you and took you a few steps closer.

"Now I can't be everywhere all at once, especially not on weekends, but once I get these bad boys up and running it'll be like everyone gets their own little dose of Warfstache!"

Now that you got a better look at the WAIA, you couldn't help but feel like you shouldn't be this close. You weren't sure if it was just because it was an animatronic or what but you were tense. It was close enough you could touch it. Or close enough it could touch you.

"Ah don't worry, gumdrop," Wilford laughed, "he's not on. I'm just givin' him the final look over before we start test interviews. Would you happen to be interested-"

"Nope I'm good," you cut in, ducking out from under his arm.

He pouted for a moment before scratching at his chin. "Ah no matter. Maybe I can get one of the interns to sit down with it... Do they get workers' comp?"

When he wandered out of sight for a moment, you didn't notice. You were still keeping an eye on the automaton. It was slumped in the chair, head lolled back. You could see the mechanical workings through it's open mouth, wires snaking down into its body.

"Hold tight darling, I gotta go find an intern!"

You spun around just Wilford popped out of existence. He had a penchant for doing that, even if the destination was just the next room over. You huffed a sigh. Hopefully he'd be back for the WAIA soon. Already you figured if you forgot it was here you'd scare the hell out of yourself later on at night.

That train of thought screeched to a halt as mechanical whirring and clicks caught your attention. Wilford had said it was off, right?

But as you gathered up the nerve to move, to look behind you, the glow from it's eyes told you enough. The WAIA was very much not off. It had moved in that brief instant. Now it was sitting up straight, hands on the arms of the chair, and staring at you.

In a halting voice, it started to speak. "Good evening-"

It stopped suddenly. Whatever script for interviewing it'd been given was cut off. At this point you managed to back up a bit, wary. Even though it wasn't moving, you could hear the clicking and grinding of gears within. It's head tilted to the side. Not a smooth movement, more like it just fell over.

"I remember you."

You tensed. Something about it's voice had changed. "What?"

"I saw you die."

That was... ominous. Before you could ask what that was supposed to mean, the WAIA continued.

"You deserved better. Better than what you got. What I gave you."

As it talked, the words got a little less choppy. A bit more feeling behind them. Your confusion only grew as the lights in its eyes flickered.

"I'm sorry,” it said.

"You-" you cleared your throat, "you don't have anything to apologise for?"

The terror had mostly worn off by now. You weren't sure what angle Wilford was going for with this though. It sounded less and less like an interview and more like a confession.

For a long moment it didn't say anything. The only sign of the automaton being on was the light in its eyes.

"You don't remember either."

You frowned. Before you could ask what it meant, there were strong hands pulling you back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, gumdrop!" Wilford said, looking you up and down. "Well you seem to still have all your limbs so that's a plus."

He walked up to the WAIA, rapping on it's head with his knuckles. "This thing's not even supposed to have power! Just another bug we gotta work out I suppose."

Wilford turned to you, eyes sparkling. "How'd it do otherwise? Insightful questions, startling revelations, anything at all?"

"Uh," you looked towards the robot, it's eyes gone dark, "yeah something like that."

"Fantastic! Oh, you must tell me all the details!"

You didn't protest as Wilford swept you from the room.

#wilford warfstache x reader #wilford x reader #writersofmark #Wilford Warfstache #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #reader is the DA #ego fanfic #My writing

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moxiety-my-love · 4 years

Text

Automotan

Analogical Fic

Prompt: How about some Logan angst? Him having some issues with his self esteem cause he feels like he always has to be a robot. And then (insert favorite other half of pairing) comes in to see him crying at his desk cause he is very overwhelmed with work? And then some comfort and maybe a love confession

Summary: Logan isn’t handling quarantine well, and Virgil is the only one who notices.

Word Count: 1k

Pairing(s): Analogical

Warning(s): Swearing, anxiety, food mention, Remus mention. Let me know if you find any more!

General Tag List: @hogwarts-my-love @yourelost-itsokay @rebeyerfdog

A/N: Decided to place this prompt during the events of COVID-19 because that’s where my mindset is right now. This can be read as either platonic or romantic Analogical!

Logan wasn’t handling being quarantined well.

That was an understatement. Logan wasn’t handling it at all. Every day that Thomas continued to stay at home, Logan’s state of mind grew worse. His inability to think straight was affecting Thomas’ productivity, which only added more stress to his already growing list of things to worry about. It was also making the other sides hesitant to be around Logan when he was irritable.

As such, Logan began to isolate himself in his room, surrounded by stacks of papers and swirling thoughts. He was the literal embodiment of Logic-- he should be able to fix this! But all the alone time in his room was making him more robotic than usual. He bottled up his emotions and hid them from the other sides, trying to help them with their own fears about the quarantine instead. Virgil was the first one to notice.

“Lo?”

Logan lifted his head from its resting position on his desk to see Virgil peeking into his room through the cracked door. With a sigh, he lifted himself from his chair to fully open the door.

“Hello, Virgil. Do you need anything?” Logan rubbed his temple, assuming Virgil had had an issue with one of the other sides. Remus, in particular, had been especially hard to deal with lately. “Did Remus do something?”

Virgil laughed, “No, but that’s a good assumption.” He coughed, stifling his laughter. “No, I just, I thought I’d check on you. You’ve been acting like an automaton, overworking yourself. I’ve been there, Lo, and I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

Virgil shifted his feet as he finished his statement. He knew Logan didn’t love to be accused of anything, so he’d tried to phrase his concerns as best as he knew how. He awkwardly dug his hands into the pockets of his well worn sweatshirt.

“A good use of ‘automaton,’ Virge,” Logan smiled, “but I don’t believe I’m acting any differently than usual.”

“It’s okay to ask for help, Logan. None of us are doing our best work while being stuck in the apartment. It’s taking a toll on everyone, so you shouldn’t feel bad about--”

“I don’t,” Logan interrupted curtly. “I have nothing to feel bad about, excluding the fear that Patton allowed Remus to help him cook tonight. Nothing is more distasteful than the thought of whatever disaster should come of that.”

Virgil laughed and gave a tentative smile. “Well, if you’re sure, Lo. Just don’t hesitate to ask for anything.”

A week had passed since that incident and Logan still wasn’t any better. In fact, the only thing that had gotten better was his ability to lie straight to the other sides’ faces. Whenever he felt his mind clouding over during a conversation, he plastered on an ambiguous expression he deemed passable as “normal.”

The one time he felt himself falter from these falsified interactions was when Patton, during one of his emotional compliment rants, told Logan how proud he was of him for all the work he’d been doing to help Thomas during their social isolation. When those words left Patton’s mouth, Logan’s eyes heated up as he forced back a flood. How wrong he is, to be proud of me, Logan thought. He wasn’t proud of himself.

A sharp rap was heard at the door and Logan bolted awake. After his consciousness returned, he looked to the wall to squint at the face of a clock. 2:30? Afternoon or late at night?

“Logan? Are you up?”

Logan recognised Virgil’s voice again. It must be afternoon, he decided, if he’s asking whether I’m awake.

Adjusting his glasses, Logan realised how much he’d let himself go. A short glance around his room showed just how quickly he’d allowed things to deteriorate. The stacks of paper atop his desk were now nonexistent; in place of the neat piles there now was utter chaos. Paper clips and pens lay strewn at his feet. Meanwhile, his bed and closet weren’t any less of a sore sight. He hadn’t done his laundry in days, or even changed clothes for that matter. But somehow he had managed to distribute the majority of his wardrobe either to the floor of his closet or in place of his bedsheets.

“Lo?”

Shit. Virgil was still there. Logan knew he shouldn’t leave his friend out in the hallway, but didn’t want him to see the mess that had replaced his life. With a sigh, he waved a hand to clear the floor, so Virgil could at least step in.

“Come in,” Logan’s raspy voice cracked as he spoke, and he realised his throat was dry. He was probably dehydrated.

Virgil only had to take one look at Logan before wrapping him in a great bear hug. That was what did it for Logan. The warmth that emitted from Virgil’s sweatshirt and arms engulfed Logan’s entire being. Before he had a second to choke back his cries, he released them into his friend’s shoulders. After the first sob, a weight was lifted immediately off Logan’s chest. For too long, he’d been suppressing his feelings. Finally allowing himself to indulge in them eased a small bit of his anxiety.

Neither of the left-brained sides knew how much time had passed by the time Logan’s sobs had softened into erratic, muffled breaths. But Virgil did know something had to be done to help Logan. He already felt terrible for letting things escalate the way they patently had.

“You need a break, Lo. This isn’t healthy.” Virgil waited for a response before deciding to say anything more. He lightly chewed on his bottom lip, choosing to tread lightly while Logan was still in a fragile state.

Easing his breath before speaking, Logan waited until he thought he could manage words again before replying.

“I- I believe you are correct, Virgil. Thank you for helping me to realise it. We’ve spent so much time discussing repression, yet it didn’t occur to me that I might be repressing.”

Virgil smiled behind Logan’s back, brushing a finger through the taller side’s hair.

“We’re all here for you, Lo. Every one of us loves you, especially me.”

Logan hesitated for a moment before replying.

“I love you too.”

He nestled his head into the warm crook of Virgil’s neck, finally at peace for the first time in weeks.

Requested by @fukindork

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supernaturalist1234 · 3 years

Text

tagged by @the-cookie-of-doom! thanks for the tag.

- what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

Super/supes seems to be what most people shorten to here! I also go by cryptid due to my other most used username. real name is a reserved right XD

- when is your birthday?

May 23rd!

- three things you’re doing right now?

communications speech outline, doodling, and baking cookies. not necessarily in that order

- four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

Sanders Sides (though I’ve been a bit less active with classes starting), Marvel (Shang-Chi dragged me back in), DSMP (against my will), and Teen Wolf has a death grip on my brain at almost all times.

- how is the pandemic treating you?

uh not fantastic tbh. but hey met some great people online I wouldn’t have otherwise, so positives I guess.

- songs you can’t stop listening to right now?

Oh Baby by LCD Soundsystem, Taking You There by Broods, Automatonic Electronic Harmonics by Steam Powered Giraffe, and Hide by Little May. no explanation for really any of these. honorable mention is Christmas Will Break Your Heart, also by LCD Soundsystem

- recommend a movie

Amélie. the cinematography is to die for, it uses so many different plot elements I love, and it has a really satisfying ending. plus the main character is heavily autistic-coded

- how old are you?

old enough to drive but not old enough to drink. in some places that is

- school, university, occupation, or other?

alll of the above..? it’s complicated XD

- do you prefer hot or cold?

cold. 100%. heat makes me wanna die a little

- name one fact others might not know about you

uhh I’ve modeled before? oh wait no I’ve broken my knee, that’s a fun one.

- are you shy?

no I’m just horrible at reading social cues and would rather not talk at all if I can’t make at least 3 different scripts of what to say in my head beforehand

- do you have any preferred pronouns?

just stepped on a land mine there XD uhh any kind of right now.

- any pet peeves?

really specific but people saying wikipedia is a bad source. it’s really, really not.

- rate your life 1 - 10, with one being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be

just kinda vibing right now, so probably like a solid 6 or 7. points docked cause life is a little shitty at times

- what’s your main blog?

this one right here

- list your side blogs and what they’re used for

I’ve actually only recent started using sideblogs, so neither of them have many posts but

@cryptid-brainrot-o7 is for my dsmp nonsense, unlikely I’ll ever link it again. or even talk about it.

@alightinthedoorway is just for lyrics or thoughts or images or ideas or whatever really that pops into my head, since I use the notes app for everything

- is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

If you want to be good friends with me honestly just like. Give me permission to spam you tbh. If I feel like I can send you every random meme or idea I get, or infodump at you, or send you posts that I think you will like, I’ll be way more likely to interact with you more. And that’s not to say I genuinely will be a nuisance about it, if you tell me to cut it out I absolutely will, it’s just about the comfortability of it. send me a random fact or image if you wanna start talking to me XD I’ll respond

tagging: @that-spider-fan-over-there, @improbablyamartian, and @mr-haiku if you want to!

#tag game #fun!

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hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong · 3 years

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Bud like you

Rex was in the training room, he was watching Astraea training her wrestling moves on some automatons. She had asked him to watch over her training to give her any advice, as he'd actually been training in various different forms of wrestling ever since he started dating Quetzalcoatl.

After a short round, Astraea leaned on the ring's ropes to talk to Rex.

Astraea: thanks again for watching over me train master.

Rex: of course, it's actually nice to see another new fighting style to compare to the others.

Astraea: I'm surprised you were so willing, you seemed like you wouldn't want to go without your wife.

Rex: hey, we can be separated sometimes... just would rather not usually.

Astraea: ahahaha! Ok, I believe you. So if that is the case, then I'd love to know who else you're close with. I'm still new, so I haven't seen you with many others besides her. In fact, I haven't seen you with the other human masters either.

Rex: oh yeah... the thing is... we kinda hang around different servants. It's like... we're drawn to or draw in different groups of servants.

Astraea: oh? Can you elaborate?

Rex: well... the twins seem closer to the more... "human" servants if you get what I mean. Servants whose legends, while still fantastical, are still relatively down to earth and very much human. Even some demigods they're close to.

Astraea: alright, and you?

Rex: for some reason... I seem to have an easier time with... the inhuman ones. The divine and the monstrous. For example, I can't hold a conversation with Nero very well, but with Tamamo, it's much easier.

Astraea: huh... do you have any idea as to why?

Rex shrugged his shoulders

Rex: not really. I just feel... more comfortable? I guess.

Astraea: interesting... is that why you don't seem to have trouble with taking to me?

Rex: I guess. There are exceptions tho.

Astraea: really? Like who?

Rex: well... I have trouble talking to the onis, aside from Kijyo. I'm also close to Mash, but I think she's close to most servants. She has some kind of... natural charm or something.

Astraea: well that does seem to be the case. Well I have a question that may help you figure things ouout.

Rex: shoot.

Astraea: how was your social life before chaldea?

Rex: nonexistent.

Astraea: Really?!

Rex: yeah... I have trouble with social interaction... other then my family other people... we're difficult to get close to.

Astraea: hmmm, maybe you just have trouble interacting with humans? Sounds odd under normal circumstances, but the evidence seems to suggest as much.

Rex: huh... maybe you have a point...

Astraea: I mean, you married a goddess instead of a human, so it's not really that surprising.

Rex: yeah... I mean... she's the greatest tho! She's strong and kind and beautiful and intimidating an-

Astraea: Rex, now's not the time.

Rex: right, sorry about that.

Astraea: it could be the case, that you just have trouble understanding people, but can naturally draw in non human beings. How you end up like that while living in normal human society up until chaldea is... confusing.

Rex: huh... interesting if true. Do you think that has anything to do with why me and Quetz are just... naturally close to each other?

Astraea: partially... but you both also never knew love beforehand so it could be a combination of those things.

Rex: interesting...

As this was happening, Quetzalcoatl came into the room, looking for Rex.

Quetz: mi amor! We've been separated for too long!

The goddess came up and embraced her husband.

Quetz: can we please go back to our room together! ❤

Rex: of course mi corazon! Sorry Astraea, we'll have to finish this up later.

Astraea: that's fine, you go be with your wife!

Then the couple left for their room, absolutely exuding love!

Astraea: hmmm... there's something odd about that master...

A/N: so... after some time thinking, I realized Rex has been almost exclusively written about together with Quetz. While that relationship is still the absolute most important part of my writings, I want to expand a bit more and this is a way to start at least. Quetz still needs to show up at the end tho.

Tags

@writer-and-artist27 @exmeowstic @grievouslyxorvia @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong

#fate grand order #mastersona #rex #astraea #quetzalcoatl #wife #rexcoatl

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spaceyqueer · 3 years

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time to be controversial again because its That Hour and I feel like it.

It's a generally accepted thing now on Tumblr that the sort of behaviour that was acceptable like five, six, seven or longer years ago definitely isn't now for a variety of reasons. Some of it is due to changes to Tumblrs website, such as the ability to actually handle large amounts of reblogs which in turn changed how people interacted with posts (and leading to the phenomenon where everyone talks in the tags but not the actual post). Some of it is due to the weeding out of shitty behaviour (it was definitely way easier to be bigoted and nasty on here several years ago).

In return for all this we regard many of the posts from this era with amusement, admittedly with a bit of cringing and "oh god we really were like that".

However when it comes to posts from say 2015 which had shit like "I'm asexual and I don't understand these silly allosexuals I like cake!" it somehow remains a collective memory that still allows people to say aphobic stuff because 'cringe tumblr ace ew' and its just...for all the shit that's been learned, I question why it is that this particular idea of what ace people are like has cemented itself in tumblrs memory and continues to haunt people's blogs when everything else cringe is either laughed at for being of its time or ignored.

As someone who is/was somewhere in the ace spectrum (I'm figuring it out, which I'm totally allowed to do btw, because I'm a human being and not an automaton) Im still anxious about mentioning to anyone I'm asexual from facing backlash online and in real life. The era of "ew cringe ace" still seems to exist, and yes it actually impacted my life and the life of other asexuals (aromantics also, but aromanticism is further ignored and ostracised so by and large everyone pretends that doesn't exist). I got outed and ridiculed by my family for being ace, I got harassed online for being ace, and I was subject to all the awful aphobic shit on here of that era and seeing it still going round is not only despicable but deeply hurtful, and people on here collectively act like it's a non-issue. "I don't hate asexuals but ew look at this cringe shit from years ago I reblogged lmao isn't it funny? this is why you don't belong at pride lol"

And I can't stop the thought that even making this fucking post is gonna get someone going "but what about lesbians/gay/trans people (etc) on here?!" like somehow expressing the fact that tumblr communities treat asexuals abysmally is somehow talking over everyone else, as if we have no right to say 'hey can you maybe not say stuff like that?'.

I'm just so tired of investing an interest in people's blogs and then being thrown a horrible reminder of how much tumblr hated us for the actions of a small few who were behaving like many other people on here at the time, and how it still hates us because of those years old actions.

#swearing tw #asexuality #original post #cal speak

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lifeofroos · 3 years

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Part 34: This chapter is made up of two parts: The first part is just your dose of This Might Be Crazy. The second part is a story I wrote years ago, which I think fits the main story.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, sits down for a talk with Hephaestus. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! Also in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Dionysus, fanfic etc.

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 34: Cappuchino

I knocked on the gates to Hepaestus’ workshop. The doors opened without making a sound. I peeked inside. There was no-one to be seen, but I did hear the sound of a hammer hitting an anvil. I didn’t know whether that was because Hephaestus was working on something or if it was just for dramatic effect.

Slowly, I walked inside. As soon as I was a few metres in, the gates began to close, causing me to quickly jump further into the workshop. With a slow thud, the doors closed behind me.

A little shaken through, I looked around. ‘Eh…’

Out of nowhere, an automaton in the shape of a giant insect appeared in front of me. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

I stared at it. ‘Not exactly…’

‘Then you leave.’

‘Hey! I did not come without cause! I got something for Hephaestus!’

The automaton did not budge. ‘No appointment…’

‘Let him in.’ The automaton dissappeared at once, while Hephaestus limped into the room. In the background, the hammering went on (Which meant that it was definitely for dramatic effect).

Hephaestus studied me from head to toe. ‘Nico di Angelo, right?’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’ I could not see his entire body. There wasn’t enough light. I wondered whether Hephaestus had done that on purpose.

He scratched his ear. ‘What is it?’

‘Eh… I need decorations for a cabinet.’ I wasn’t going to mention that I got it from IKEA.

‘I can do that. Is it at camp?’

‘Yes, in my cabin.’

Hephaestus nodded. He snapped his fingers and in a second my cabinet appeared.

He laid his hand on the top for a second. ‘Hm. I know what I can do with this.’ He looked back at me. ‘Maybe you should come with me while I work.’

I nodded while I walked after him.

After five minutes of watching Hephaestus work fast as lighting, I scraped my throat. ‘You know I get therapy from Dionysus, right?’

‘Therapy, is that what you call it?’ The blacksmith looked up from his work for a second.

‘Yes.’

‘Hm. When I had it, they just called it ‘dragging you back to your senses.’’

‘Ah-ha. Eh, that is what I came here to talk about, actually.’

Hephaestus let his work rest and leaned back for a second. His metal brace clicked.

‘I am not ashamed that I needed his help. But neither am I ashamed of what I did that made him realise I needed it. It might have been wrong, it might still be wrong, but I am not ashamed.’

He meant tying Hera to her throne as revenge. Right. ‘I think I understand.’

‘I don’t think you do.’ He coughed and adjusted his leg brace. I did not see what needed to be adjusted, but okay.

‘You probably know the story. All the gods try to get me to free Hera. They all fail, except for young Dionysus, who managed to get me so drunk that I willingly came along. Except, no.’

I was confused by the last sentence for a second. ‘He… you mean he didn’t get you drunk?’

‘Does he intoxicate you? Of course not. Neither did he intoxicate me. The other gods just couldn’t fathom the fact that he had been a puny mortal so soon before.’ Softly, his hands stroked the silver decorations he had just attached to my cabinet.

‘Eh, this does not surprise me,’ I said after a pause.

‘I am not surprised it does not. You seem clever enough.’ He coughed again. I moved back a little.

‘Hm.’ He snapped his fingers. A table came walking over, with two cups of cappuccino on top.

I took my cup, even though I had little interest in drinking it. The last cup of coffee I had gotten from Hephaestus was abhorent. I did not expect this one to be much better.

‘I don’t think he knew what to expect when he came to see me,’ Hephaestus continued, ‘Maybe someone in a fury, maybe someone who was depressed. Probably something in between. But no matter what, he treated me like it didn’t matter. The way he would treat any other guy. Came by, helped out in the workshop…’ the blacksmith rolled his eyes for a second, ‘... So called help, at least. Half of the time he was ‘helping’ me, he was an inconvenience. But when I needed someone to talk to…’ he shrugged. ‘You know that yourself.’

‘Yes.’ I did.

He took a sip of cappuccino. ‘Well, slowly, we get onto the subject of Hera. Why I had chained her up, what it did with me to live with my actions, and what would be the best thing to do next.’ He took another thoughtful sip. ‘Dionysus did not want to talk about what would be best for the universe. He meant what was best for me.’ Hephaestus shrugged. ‘Now, that turned out to be the best for the universe as well. Yet, I know I would have been worse off if I had kept Hera chained up.’

I raised my eyebrows. The universe would have been worse with Hera chained up?

‘You can look at me like that, but it is the truth, young man.’

Sure, sure, balance and all that. I took the tini-tiniest sip of my cappuccino. And would you have it, it actually tasted good.

‘Eventually, I was the person who said we should go back to Olympus. Now, that wasn’t easy for two outcasts. We had to travel by donkey, which…’ he sighed. ‘But still, he kept helping me. Kept talking to me. And I began to feel like we would get to Olympus, and it would be fine.’

There was something in his tone that got me concerned. ‘What happened next?’

‘You’re an observatory young man. What happened is that your therapist, as you call him, caught a horrible fever, so that I had to take care of him instead of the other way around.’

Wait. What? Dionysus had been immortal at this point. ‘How did he even catch a fever?’

‘He must have been more mortal then he seemed. I…’ the god sighed, a little sad. ‘I was worried. It might have been the most worried I have been in my entire life. He was terribly ill and I was afraid I would lose him. After all that happened, I couldn’t afford to. If he would have died, I would have gone back.’

‘But… he didn’t.’

‘No, he didn’t. That is why I am the blacksmith of the gods, Hera is free, nature grows as before and my friend got to live his life.’

The god took a sip of his cappuccino.

‘Sorry for asking,’ I muttered. I stared into my cup.

‘It’s okay. I was actually expecting you to come over someday, after what I said when you were here with Hades.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘And I know you won’t blab.’

‘Of course not!’

‘Good.’ He looked at my cabinet. ‘I just need a few more minutes.’

‘Take all the time you need.’

Indeed a few minutes later, my cabinet was just the way I wanted it. ‘Here. I hope you get some use out of it.’

‘I will.’

‘Good.’ He wiped his hands on a cloth. ‘I also hope you learned something today.’

‘I think I did.’

‘Hm. If you take away anything, please let it be that Dionysus wants to help you for you. Not for anyone else.’

I nodded, a little slow.

Hephaestus gave me a single nod. ‘Okay. Then Sierra will see you out.’

The automaton from earlier appeared in a second.

Swiftly, I stood up. I scooped up my cappuccino and took a large gulp. ‘Okay, Thanks, bye!’

‘The cabinet will follow you.’

Thanks, that is horrifying. I walked after the automaton, to the gates of the forge.

When I was back in my cabin, I stared at my cabinet and thought. Yes, I learned something today.

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A/N: Bonus chapter, maybe? Anyway, Leo and Hephaestus story, which I wrote ages ago and I thought fitted the This Might Be Crazy chapter.

Leo was alone in bunker 9, repairing something for Frank which he had promised to repair ages ago. It didn’t go so well, even though repairing a sword was usually brainless work. His mind was constantly trailing off. A lot of things went wrong the past few days. Aside from screwing a few screws the wrong way and latting a vat of mild greek fire explode, he had forgotten Annabeth’s birthday, camp half-blood’s 3900 year anniversary and the weekly get-together of the Hephaestus cabin, and who knows what else that people just had not told him about yet.

The third time Leo accidently hit himself with his hammer, he screamed and angrily threw it across the room. ‘Curse this whole damned world and everything that can go wrong in it!’ He screeched.

‘That’s not very nice. I didn’t expect to hear that from you.’ Leo gasped and turned around. Hephaestus had appeared behind him.

Leo lowered his arms. ‘I am sorry if....’

Hephaestus shook his head. ‘I think you are having some problems with the world around you.’ Leo nodded.

‘I just can’t seem to remember my appointments, I drop everything I hold and now my thumb is bleeding as well.’

‘We can fix your bleeding thumb.’ Hephaestus pulled a band-aid out of thin air and put it around his sons’ finger. ‘So. Slightly better?’

Leo shrugged. ‘I guess it is one issue less.’

Hephaestus nodded a bit. ‘One step at the time. Someone told me that once.’

‘Someone did?’ Leo looked up when there came no answer. The gods’ gaze was muddled, as if he was somewhere else with his thoughts.

‘Thetis, I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you allowed me to live in your house but I have to leave. I need to get back to Olympus.’

Hephaestus looked at the nymph in front of him, who was rubbing her hands together. ‘Are you sure about this, Hephaestus? Your mother threw you out, back when... aren’t you afraid she’ll do it again?’ The god shook his head.

‘I have a plan. It will be okay.’ The nymph sighed. ‘Take care and don’t forget that if things go wrong up there, you’ll always have a place here, where I live.’ She gave him a small smile.

‘I will. And I’ll never forget that you were the one who raised me and cared for me, I promise.’

Thetis’ smile became broader. ‘Have a save trip, Hephaestus.’

‘Dad? Dad!’ Leo’s voice brought Hephaestus back to reality.

‘What? Oh, I was just thinking about something.’ the god scraped his throat. ‘Have you taken a moment to think about why you have been forgetting your appointments?’ He asks. Leo shrugged.

‘Not really, I guess. It just keeps happening.’

‘Maybe you should think about it for a little while.’

‘Alright.’ Leo looked at his hands, and quickly trailed off in thought, not realizing that the same happened to his father.

The other Olympians stared at Hephaestus with wide eyes. Some of them backed away. Hephaestus was looking at his mother. She was furious, afraid and a little sad at the same time. Hephaestus took a deep breath. ‘Once again, thanks for the way you treated me, mother. And to the others: don’t try to release her, because nothing will work.’ He looked around the room one more time, before walking away. No-one dared to say anything.

With a start, Hephaestus looked up. Leo was talking.

‘I did have a lot of appointments the past few weeks and I must confess that I didn’t write those down anywhere. Yet, that doesn’t explain why I forgot our cabin meeting or the anniversary of Camp Half-blood, because everyone was talking about those all day long. It is not like I had a lot of projects that were distracting me. I mean, maybe…’

Four gods had already tried to persuade him into freeing Hera. Ares had threatened him, Athena had tried to reason, Poseidon had told him he would flood the forge and Demeter had said she would let all the plants around the forge die. None of it had had any effect.

Hephaestus looked over at the door, just as the fifth ambassador walked into the workshop. He looked extremely young and somehow didn’t feel like the others. He wasn’t mortal, but he wasn’t fully immortal either.

He didn’t say anything, until Hephaestus spoke: ‘If you are here just to ask me to free Hera, just go away already and don’t waste my or your own time.’

‘That’s not why I am here.’ Hephaestus shook his head.

‘Then why are you? Listen, kid, four gods have tried to persuade me the last few weeks. So just get onto that, alright?’ The stranger chuckled.

‘My lord, I am not here for that, and even if I was, I do not think there is a lot I could do. I do not have Athena’s wit or Poseidons’ power over the sea. And I could not try fighting you if I wanted to. Why, you are at least fifty centimetres taller than I am.’

‘I…’ Hephaestus stopped talking. He hadn’t realized that this stranger was, in fact, very small compared to him. Actually, he seemed to be the same height as most mortals (maybe even on the slightly short side), which confused him even more. He narrowed his eyes. ‘You might be right. Tell me your name and what you want.’

‘... and I think that might be why I have forgotten nearly everything in the last few weeks.’ Hephaestus jerked his head up. He hadn’t heard anything Leo just said. His son sarcastically raised his eyebrows. ‘So I think I might get a diary, ask people to remind me of my appointments and make sure I work extra carefully the next couple of days.’ Leo smirked. ‘You know, dad, you were right. This whole thinking thing really works. Now, can you tell me what you were thinking about?’

Hephaestus shrugged. ‘You notice more than people think.’ Leo nodded.

‘I tend to.’

‘We are really walking all the way from Lemnos to Olympus, so I can free Hera from her throne.’

Dionysus sighed. ‘True. It is strange that we are technically helping the other Olympians now. I mean, what have they ever done for us? We are outcasts, we don’t have any fancy flying chariots or great magic like they do and they are still relying on us for help!’

Hephaestus laughed. ‘I guess that is the Olympians for you!’ He sighed. ‘Another thing. Deep inside, I want to be an Olympian and I don’t know why. Maybe it is the feeling of inclusion?’ Hephaestus turned his head to his companion, who had stopped walking. ‘Dio? What do you think?’ The other god sighed as well.

‘Could be. For me, I think... I just became a god, you know. No warning, no-one asking me if I even wanted to, nothing. Maybe I am reaching for Olympus because if I have to be a god, why not go the full way?’

Hephaestus nodded. ‘You might be right. So, how far do you think we can get today?’

‘I was thinking about my own past. I was cast out as a small child and it didn’t seem like I had anybody I could trust on Olympus.’

Leo slowly nodded and beckoned his father to continue. ‘After chaining Hera up and retrieving to Lemnos, I only really cared about my forge, not about anything else. Not even myself.’ Hephaestus thought for a second. ‘Well, I think I cared about Thetis and about my donkey. Yet, Thetis wasn’t there, and my donkey… was a donkey. The person who showed me how to care again was Dionysus. He hung around the blacksmith just because he appreciated me and he was the one who got me so far that I admitted I wanted to go back to Olympus and right what I did wrong. He showed me some people did care about me. About me, and not just about what I did. It made me care for him as well.’

It was nighttime, but Hephaestus was wide awake. A few metres away from him, Dionysus was finally asleep. They were close to Olympus now, only about two days of walking away, but they had not moved forward at all in a week. Dionysus had caught a fever, and there was no way he would be able to climb Olympus in his current state.

Dionysus moved and yelped in his sleep. Hephaestus sighed. He didn’t know if fever dreams were always this bad, or if they were worse because of Dionysus’ relation to madness. With a scream, his friend woke up, just half an hour after falling asleep. Hephaestus quickly moved over. Dionysus stared at him with damp eyes. ‘Dionysus….’

‘It will go away, it always does.’ He shivered and Hephaestus quickly put another blanket over him. ‘Are you sure? I did occasionally meet mortals every now and then, back on Lemnos, you know. A lot of them had relatives or friends who had caught a fever, and they had...’ Hephaestus swallowed. ‘I don’t want you to die, Dionysus. Please, you can’t die, you can’t.’ Dionysus closed his eyes. Yet, he was smiling.

‘I probably could have gotten that from anybody else as well. But I didn’t. I began to trust Dionysus and he never broke that trust once during our entire trip from Lemnos to Olympus.’

Hephaestus walked into the throne room, with Dionysus by his side. The gods turned their heads, every single one of them surprised. Hephaestus didn’t say anything. He walked over to Hera’s throne, spoke a few words and the cables loosened. It took a few seconds before she felt comfortable enough to step down. ‘Thanks...’

‘Keep your thanks,’ Hephaestus muttered. The other Olympians began crowding around Dionysus, glad that there was someone they could safely call a hero. The wine god looked over at Hephaestus, who nodded.

‘After I got back on Olympus, the other gods quickly got used to me. Hermes and some others made the effort to get to know me, and slowly I found my place. Sometimes, I still feel like I don’t belong, or that I am just a nuisance. But then there is always Dionysus, who is there to support me.’ Hephaestus stopped talking. Leo was listening with his mouth open.

‘That was a wild history lesson, dad.’ Hephaestus smiled.

‘I hope you learned something from it.’

‘I sure did.’ He jumped up. ‘But now I have to go buy a diary in the store and apologize to a few people. Thanks again, dad. I hope you’ll come visit me some more.’ Leo ran out of bunker 9, leaving his dad behind. Hephaestus hardly noticed his son was gone at first, until he sighed, with a little smile.

‘You are a god.’ Hephaestus nodded, while he looked into the gorgeous eyes of Esperanza Valdez. The woman stayed calm, as if she knew all along. Hephaestus laid his hand on her cheek. ‘I can’t stay for much longer.’ He tried to smile. ‘Please stay safe, Esperanza. I want you to live a happy life.’ She laughed.

‘I hope so, too.’ She gave him a kiss on the cheek, before he left.

From up on mount Olympus, he could see her. She stood by the door for a long time, with a hand on her belly, before she walked back into the house.

A/N: I freakin’ love the tale of Dionysus and Hephaestus. If I ever write a retelling of greek mythology it would be about the tale of Dionysus and Hephaestus. They are my boys.

Okay so, myth-accurately, Dionysus gets Hephaestus drunk. Except I dislike that version so I made my own (sue me). Also Dionysus didn’t catch a fever, that is just for the drama (again, sue me).

I must have written the second part at least three years ago. Of course, I re-wrote it for a bit, but it surprises me how many elements of it survived the test of time.

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jamiebluewind · 4 years

Text

Character/Location Descriptions for Fantasy High 2.10!

***

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: emprisonment, multiple injuries, canon typical violence, multiple blood mentions, gross descriptions, poison mention, broken bone mention, vomit mention, torture mentions, trauma, abandonment,

***

Brennan

"Free dad slap."

"You 'Ally'ed out of the box of doom!"

***

New Character/s

Fire Elemental #3

Genderless

Was summoned and bound by the elves of old to protect the elemental pylon that powers the permanent magical effects of Ka'lethriel Tower, which transformed them into a monstrous fire thing along with 2 other fire elementals bound there

Was embrased by Fabian in a deep dip as he cradled their head and his sheet wrapped around them both and roiled above them

The power of Fabian's dance partially stunned them and took them out of active combat

The thing binding them to protect the pylon went when the fire pit helix was put out, causing them to change back to a creature with an elvan face of wreathing flame

They cry fire

They kissed Fabian softly on the lips (for 8 points of damage) and whispered in his ear (softly like flame) "Thank you. For my freedom. For my life." before disappearing

Established Characters

Arthur Aguefort

Slows localized time at Ka'lethriel Tower, opening a rift from his desk at the academy to talk to Adaine

Crawled through the rift after Adaine confirmed that her captors chose the way of pain

The way of pain involved Aguefort using new and experimental magic resulting him growing 450 feet tall (massive thudding steps), reaching up to grab the Sun (causing his veins to light up with golden fire and his mouth to fill with a fire that releases and races across the sky), calling thousands of terracotta Agueforts to burst out of the ground and sprint north, moving the Sun itself (leaving a burning scar across the sky), and shooting lasers the width of highways that have enough power to cap a mountain in one hit with lasers that shot out of his eye (which took on a golden bright glow)

He appeared to Kristen later (via a spell that appeared as a scroll glowing with illusionary magic with his name on it that allowed him video chat with her from back in Elmville) badly injured, wrapped up in bandages, bleeding a lot, and in pain.

The new magic tore up his guts so bad that by the time he got about 50 miles north of the tower, he "shit about an ocean of blood" and almost passed out (we can't get that big, 450 feet tall is too big)

Was also hit with a lot of powerful elven counter magic before he teleported back to Solace

His terracotta army fell apart when he left

Admitted that he had been going ham for a while since after Kristen snuck him into heaven, that being dead for a couple months really messed him up, and that attempting to destroy the government of Fallinel was "just too much"

Got in a lot of trouble with the government of Solace, will probably have to go to court, and he has to move the Sun back ("gotta figure out how to do that")

Dragged the Sun "a little bit north of where it should be" (causing the far south of the Earth to be colder and far north to be hotter), but said the Sun was "going in the right direction" and "still going around the Earth", resulting in clarifying that Spyre normally goes around the Sun, but he's not sure of what he did when he dragged it across the sky and that there was more of a poetic understanding of how things really work, but he still "really fucked up"

Kear/Keer

Was horrified by Augefort's actions

"I'm getting very confused and upset with everything that these children do."

Was poisoned and vomiting when Kristen banished her with a kiss on her face, came back when Kristen broke her ankle, and was banished again by Ayda who loudly pronounces "mwah!" while kissing her face like Kristen

Oak Warriors

8 foot tall

Look like green men (not automaton) made of magic with elven faces

Vulnerable to fire

Controled by Kear

Anguin

Was blinded by Kristen

Went invisible and ran

Was knocked unconscious by Fig and left in the vault (with some of his teeth knocked out) when Ka'lethriel Tower collapsed

Aelwyn

Kept awake for 5 months

Was rescued from the tower and fell unconscious/comatose immediately

Was carried out by Ayda

Even outside the orb, her body shook with the strain and effort

As she and Adaine tranced, a tiny piece of her abjurative magic (an innate cantrip, abjurer's ward) came back and she started building a shield around Adaine in her "sleep"

Was taken to a hot spring with elven healers by Adaine

Was unsure if they actually escaped or just died before trying to cast a feeble shield around Adaine again

Her mind was damaged and the torture had a profound and corrosive effect on her well being and memory

The inside of her mind looked like a city razed to the ground with crumbled walls, battlements, towers, and arcane defenses. Only a weird, vulnerable labyrinth of images remained

Has a deep self loathing (especially for not saying anything on Adaine's behalf against their parents) and a powerful fear of her parents. Her cowardice fed into her self loathing which fed into her cowardice in an endless loop.

Had an intense magical charm in the center of the labyrinth of her abjurations and a little faint enchantment with "Despite all of the torment and tribulation, let this be proof. I always knew there was only one person clever enough to find this." written on the outside. The charm was a custom modify memory spell (which The Court Of Stars had been searching for) and contained a saved unbroken version of her from before she was capture which overrode her current broken state once it was dispelled

Adaine

Found a sword in the vault while looking for a weapon to fight with

Later gave the sword Fan-dran-goorh to Fabian (was made by his grandpapa Tel'amine)

Held Aelwyn as they sleep

Detects magic on Aelwyn and find a faint whisper of enchant magic before using detect thoughts on her

Found and dispelled the magical charm within Aelwyn which returns her sister's mind to a version before she was captured by The Court of Stars

Gilear

Fluid in his feet, especially his right (due to rolling his ankle months ago) which now has a band of purple around it (possibly a bone issue) and causes him an ambiant throbbing pain and heat from all the extra blood (GO TO A DOCTOR!!!)

Tel'amine

Tried very hard to say "Gorgug" one last time, but just said "Chedge" and then cried and became really embarrassed when Gorgug responded "It sounds like literally no sound was correct in that."

Dances with Fabian at one point in the night to the sound of Fig's bass.

He and the other adults of Kylo Me'newra give teens grapes because they believe it will make them less horny (doesn't actually work)

Riz

Shot a fire elemental over Gorgug's thumbs up

"Stay positive."

Said "It's beautiful" about Fabian dancing with the fire elemental and shed a tear before saying "It's beautiful Gorgug" and lowering his gun, aiming at the last pitcher

Poked his head in when Adaine was about to go to sleep to ask if her sister was still trying to kill them (since she was just kind of there now), listens to her answer (doesn't think so, especially with her trauma), and then slowly (and awkwardly) backs out of the room as the sisters doze off together (after Ayda dropped her off)

Gorgug

Soot on his face and singed hair after being set on fire

Had his thumb knicked slightly when Riz shot over it

Fabian

Slashed the first fire elemental on his first two turns before hiding behind Gorgug

Had an elven sheet on hand which has the ability to put out fires, so he used to put out his friends

Danced and jumped with his sheet during the battle and did a bit of contact juggling with the fire

(On being kissed) "I take it. I take every point of that damage and I take it slowly. I can feel it. In my whole body."

Was left with red hot lips after kissing the fire elemental and (with a gulp) felt a glowing moat of fire travel down his throat and rest hot and warm in his chest

Had the sheet tied around him like a cape while traveling back to meet with the others

At Kylo Me'newra, danced (badly due to rolling a 1 and a 2) all night outside with his sheet (like nobody is watching) as the ground lit up behind him with a dull glow with each step. It helped him get in touch with his feelings and his body

Enjoys the taste of the flower his grandpapa gives him

Gorgug, Riz, and Fabian

Ran to and from their pylon with their arms back like anime characters

"I believe in you/us."

"Spring break!!!"

All three were burned from their fight

After getting back to Kylo Me'newra, Fabian danced all night while Riz and Gorgug watched (cradled in the boughs of treents that hummed a song as the trees rocked them)

Riz: You know? This place isn't so bad.

Gorgug: How did this part start happening?

Riz: I thought I was just gonna sit in a tree and it started singing to me.

Gorgug: Hey. Really not horrible.

Riz: Yeah.

Tel'amine: Yes. Really not horrible at all. *catches a blossom and shoves it into Gorgug's mouth* Eat it.

Gorgug: *chews*

Tel'amine: Yes.

Riz: Is it good or is it just a flower?

Gorgug: *shakes head*

Riz: It was beautiful.

Tel'amine: *glides off into the night*

Gorgug: *coughs and sticks his tongue out*

Riz: Did that dude just feed you a flower?

Gorgug: Yeah. *hacking sound*

Riz: That was insane.

Gorgug: It's a complex flavor, I don't like it.

Riz: That was insane.

Kristen

Unmade a oak warrior due to the annoyance of her spirit guardians

*appears behind Kear and puts her hand on her back* "You're on the wrong side, but you could join us if you want. Just something to think about." *casts banishment to give Kear time to think and kisses her on the side of the head before she goes*

Tried to ribbon dance fly down 10 stories in the middle of the tower and ended up just slamming into the floor at the bottom instead, breaking her ankle

Her spirit guardians attacked Anguin while he was invisible and trying to sneak into the vault, ending his invisibility

Used sending to get in contact with Jawbone (Jawbone. Hey. Having some trouble with Tracker. She's pretty upset at me. I keep saying the wrong thing. I kept something from her. Oops? -> Tough break kiddo. Happy to help if I can. Should I find a way to contact you other than this spell? -> Fuck yes. -> Hell yeah.)

Had a long distance talk with Jawbone (using Aguefort's video chat spell) where she got advice on not treating her partner as a means to an end and about transparency.

Fig

Gave Wicklaw's sword back to Leviathan

Disguised herself as a Arthur Aguefort (but with a bass guitar) and accidentally really upsets Ayda

Played a really sick guitar riff that would make all the gems dance (to persuade them somehow and find out more about gems) and ends up causing a large gem built into the base of the tower to crack and the tower to collapse (but not before grabbing a book on gems lore)

Tried to set Adaine's dad on fire with a pack of cloves as they left

Had a sleepover with Ayda (text link below)

Ayda

Brennan stated outside stream that an incarnation of Ayda has been living on Leviathan for a very long time, building the Compass Points. When she dies and is reborn, it is a true rebirth and her new incarnation has none of the memories of her previous forms, only knowing her previous selves from the written instructions they leave behind. Her current incarnation is the same age as Tracker (17).

Can fly with two other medium sized people (and later the two plus an underweight Aelwyn)

Immune to fire

Her dad is very triggering for her

Had a sleepover with Fig

(to Fig) "Have you said something so kind on purpose?"

When Fig attacked her as her dad (due to spell fail), she got very upset and said "Dad. Dad. I'm sorry. I'm done. I'm sorry. Dad. Dad." as Fig tried to calm her

When she counter spelled Angwin and Fig told her thank you, she answered "Whatever. I would help you, Fi-du-du-Dad. You're not my dad. You're Fig! Right? It's an illusion. Yes. You're Fig. I know. Why would I have carried my dad here? He never carried muh... me."

Told Fig that she might need to work through some of her stuff in battle as she "elected to have a disguise that was very upsetting."

After dispelling a spell on Fig that was gonna make her run away "Dad don't leave! I mean Fig! Fig don't leave."

Was very happy to see Adaine.

Said "My friend Kristen did this" before giving Kear a loudly pronounced "Mwah" kiss to the side of her head and banishing her again

Fig: How dare you do that the Arthur Augefort!

Ayda: PLEASE STOP THAT!

Fig: I know, but see, it's intimidating for them-

Ayda: It can't possibly be helping us more than it's hurting us!

***

Location Descriptions

Ka'lethriel Tower (new details)

The tower itself is 10 stories tall and sits near a wall (with a gate) that surrounds the tower and the garden

Each floor has one room (save the top which has at least two)

The first floor holds a vault (which is normally protected by permanent magical effects) with a big locked door

There's a large gem built into the side of the tower within the vault

The vault is filled with a lot of things, including Adaine and Aelwyn's property (spellbooks, arcane focuses, and The Jacket of Useful Things), Fan-dran-goorh (Fandrangor): Sword of The North Star (long, whip thin elven sword that shines a gleaming green golden light, can talk with the voices of elvan ancestors, and once belonged to elven kings long past), a massive religious tome, a quarenteened series of top secret elven scrolls that is the research of Adaine mom, a series of notes by mom looking for the location of a temple in Sylvar (Kristen knows due to a book at the Compass Points Library), and a book on gem lore

Fire Pit Pylon

Large elvan smithy (only in looks as it's an arcane power station and not an actual forge) and worst of the two pylons

Stone, mossy covered building with a floor covered in traps and an entire infrastructure filled with a high elven adoration for magic

In the center of the building, there is a hexagonal 6 pointed room with a fire pit in the center that's so hot that it's hard to look at. The fire is golden green helix at the start (changes to purple gold with the first pitcher of water spilled into it, ruby red with the second, and out with the third. It also flickers with other energy at ruby red from the other pylon being attacked).

Surrounding the fire pit in altering positions around the 6 sided room are 3 braziers and 3 statures (each statue directly across from a brazier)

The elven statues have ornimental stone weapons on them and are holding huge alabaster pitchers of clear water which bend towards the fire pit and require a cantrip (or enough damage to break them) to dump their water

The large firy silver elven braziers are piled high with burning coal (responsible for the smoke) and are traps that conjure a monsterous fire elemental when the water from its corresponding stature spills into the fire pit or when a floor trap is triggered

***

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