#— file ✧ una evers.

[pathlit]

⤷ ✧ @starstcff said, ❝ Well, I guess that answers the old "if I asked you to drive off a cliff" scenario. ❞ from pike.

an eyebrow raised in quiet challenge, the hint of a smile only he will recognize as a smile. ❛ you had doubts? ❜ it has long since ceased to be duty, ceased to be an obligation imposed upon her by rank and position, yet it remains her responsibility: christopher pike says he wants something done, and whatever it is, she finds a way to do it that does not risk ship, crew, or captain.

even if her confidence that her solution will work remains hers alone, and even if she neglects to share the finer points of her plan — those that might give reassurance of its success.

she should fix him with a look that asks now what?, but she cannot resist adding, ❛ you do recognize that that is a silly scenario to begin with. it assumes a binary of options: trust ❜ — she nearly says obey, but knows that that isn't the point — ❛ and risk almost certain death, or, as common sense would dictate, not take the action that might very well kill you. ❜ he knows her well enough to know that, presented with two options, she will find a third.

there is always a third.

[cptnbatel]

honestly, when odette told me ( at my request ) that it was a big cliffhanger and that batel's fate was still uncertain, my immediate response was 'so long as it's a cliffhanger I can find a clever way out of, I'm happy.'

but, no, this one's boring. not going to bother. I'll just write a post!s2 verse where everything's fine and somehow this situation magically resolved itself. because I just don't care? I just don't care.

the more I sit with it the less I give a damn.

all I care about? marie losing her ship and crew. that I'll have fun with.

[ofstarfleet]

god i just have a lot of feelings about Una and the fact that all she believes in, wants to do is explore the stars, to join starfleet-----to help people. and all her people wanted to do was live in harmony with nature. and she puts other people first before herself. her surrendering her badge and giving herself up at the end of the ep was her thinking it was the right thing to do but in doing so she was willing to give up her dream.

una has a very sincere strong sense of justice and doing what's right. and she knows she broke regulations and it was only a matter of time before her past came to light and she'd have to face the consequences.

this wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for the genetics war.

[owedfavors]

ON ETIENN EVERS ;

etienn evers, owner of a transport ship he uses to ferry a variety of goods both within and without the borders of federation space, meets una when she is sixteen, three months after she departs illyria for the stars. a teenager on her own, too bright for her own good and always pushing the boundaries both of her abilities and of what she can get away with, una had run herself afoul of the gravitational pull of a pulsar in an escape pod. she had thought she could boost the small craft's engines to get herself out once the ship pursuing her ( a smuggler's ship she had stowed away upon, needing transport, when none was or would be available, to another system ) departed. her calculations and best efforts failed to conjure power, to materialize a miracle, and etienn and his crew fish her out of a dangerously low and decaying orbit.

he confines her to a set of quarters and plans to deposit her at the nearest stellar port — a three week journey away. within three hours, he finds her in one of their cargo bays, having evaded the lock upon her doors, attempting to construct — well, to be fair, he's never sure what — and realizes that if he does not give her something to do, she will only find her way into trouble. so, he makes her useful instead. with a focused direction for her energy, the bounds of expectations clearly set, she finds her place. etienn does not deposit her in the hands of authorities, and she remains upon the ship for most of five months, gaining experience — of space travel and of the galaxy and its inhabitants.

it is with etienn that she visits pau'uri, the planet that she will later claim as her home planet when she applies to starfleet. it is with him that she begins forging a network of connections that she will expand upon and maintain throughout her starfleet career.

etienn bails her out of trouble many more times over those months — and several more times in the many years since. of everyone in her network, he is the one person whom she owes, and she can, at this point, never pay back that score. then again, she is the only one keeping tally; etienn does not give a damn. if she asks, he will come, and he is one of very, very few people throughout her life that she feels comfortable enough to willingly ask for help. she trusts him in a way she will trust no one else until she meets christopher pike.

etienn is half-human and half-manchai ( a humanoid species that has declined to join the federation but maintains an amicable relationship with them ) raised amongst his mother's people and their customs. forty-five when he first rescued una, he is retired by the time of strang.e n.ew wor.lds. he has retreated to life upon his wife's home planet, handing over his original ship, and a second purchased over the years, to his two sons to continue the family business. the boys, twins, were ten when una was sixteen, then living planetside with their mother. while una has met them, she never connected with them, or to their mother, as she had etienn, and she always felt like they were merely tolerating her at his insistence.

when una submits her application to the academy, she forsakes her illyrian names in favor of the simplified 'una' and etienn's surname; he is, after all, the closest thing she has to family.

[owedfavors]

she does not need to think about it. ❛ no. ❜ simple, blunt, earnest. ❛ what would intrigue me would be the mechanism by which you might transform one being into another, preserve human intelligence in a brain the size of a frog's, and create a condition through which it might restore itself to its former shape. ❜ scientifically, it is one thing to dematerialize one into atoms and reform them in a different place at great distance. it is another to change the nature of that thing while preserving...

well, preserving what? one's soul, una supposes, whatever a soul is. whatever would ensure that a person could still be that same person in the form of a frog.

the individual is trivial, merely one more variable to the experiment. a different person, same conditions, a slightly different result. fundamentally, however, nothing when placed side by side with the physics and biology. even, she will allow, that very question of essence, of what would remain of the original in its new form.

the science of curses. what a field of study that would surely prove to be. her lip nearly curls in a smile that she quickly suppresses.

christopher is quite sure he is discussing neither. frogs, be them fairytale princes, or simple amphibians, do not interest him in the slightest. the only other time he ever thought about them for longer than five seconds was during his last camping trip: he'd pitched a tent nearby a pond, thinking he might fish his breakfast there the next morning.

he'd woken up bleary-eyed and disgruntled, kept awake by three very loud frogs, who he is sure organized themselves into a singing group for the express purpose of making his life as hard as possible. ( not unlike her )

that time, he was ready to wring their skinny necks. tonight, chris understands the fairytale princess a bit better. he can picture himself kissing a frog. after all, he owes the green creature a debt: for the first time ever, he's gotten his first officer to string complete sentences in his direction that have nothing to do with their job.

a miracle worthy of a grimm brother's tale.

❛⠀⠀⠀i place a lot of faith in anyone who is clever enough to get themselves out of a curse, ⠀ ❜ ⠀ he retorts, shaking his head. ⠀ ⠀❛⠀⠀⠀think about it. ⠀ ❜ ⠀ she can't help it, he's realized. ⠀ ❛⠀⠀⠀wouldn't you be curious about a man who was able to get himself cursed at this day and age, and, while still stuck in a dimunitive, not very attractive form, found a way out? ⠀ ❜ ⠀

[nevertheless-moving]

james t kirk walking through the enterprise for his FIRST OFFICIAL ENTERPRISE ASSIGNMENT (his first real (temporary) commission on the ENTERPRISE! baby boy's dream job! second time on this fancy deck EVER!) losing his absolute mind like is this. a thing. that ships do. and no one told me? at ANY point in The Academy??? Or is it just the flagship? I mean they ARE the best, so maybe Pike's on to something? Was that energy pulse a signal? Damn the choreography is impressive — yeah, I suppose I can see this being helpful for emergency drills, or at least morale... and it's just like being on an old Earth ship, which you have to admire. I wonder if they do historic shanties too! Wow! Commander Una really can do anything, is her vocal range also enhanced? Asking is almost definitely a microaggression, come on Jim, be better. ok, it's gotta be just the Enterprise, Farragut never... except, our command officers are somewhat considered killjoys? Maybe its like how some ship cultures tend more pants over skants? no, someone would have told me before now if this was a normal crew activity. But if it's not standard, how is everyone in such perfect harmony that's GOT to take serious practice. Unless its like an old school hazing, trial by fire deal... then I can't be the only one out of the loop on this. Oh shit, what if it's — oh good God I should have taken a music elective — Gary told me straight to my face that my course load was too narrow on command, my career councilor even said that I could benefit from more arts in my schedule! FUCK! They must have taught this in one of those easy credit intro to federation music seminars and everyone who looks at my file knows I'm an uncultured idiot who — oh I am also singing. huh. right yes of course the lyrics are acknowledging the oddity of... guess there's some pathogen or anomaly — thank the lord i haven't been missing something major for — wait no, being compelled to sing in unison is also a problem—

[sgiandubh]

Hola sgiandubh. Esta mañana alucinaba con los mensajes que he leído: poniendo la excusa del cambio de servidor ¿perdona? porque no sé explicarme bien, pero es que no tenía ni pies ni cabeza.

Si un simple cambio de archivo refleja la fecha actual del cambio de una carpeta a otra, pues la carpeta actual refleja la fecha del cambio y manteniendo en datos ocultos la fecha antigua, pues en un servidor es algo parecido: si cambias un archivo de servidor, cambias la fecha de TODO el contenido, por esa regla, todas las fotos de Getty tendrán fecha del cambio, o sea, excusa más peregrina no he leído en mi vida.

Dear IT Anon,

Claramente no soy experta, pero tampoco soy idiota. Lo que escribes tiene mucho sentido y lo voy a traducir para todas nosotras:

Hello sgiandubh. This morning I was amazed by the messages I read: that pretext of changing servers, excuse me? because I don't know how to explain myself well, but I didn't make any sense.

If a simple file change reflects the current date of the change from one folder to another, then the current folder reflects the date of the change and keeping the old date in hidden data. Well, it goes exactly the same way for a server: if you change a server file , you change the date of ALL the content, by that rule. Thus, all those Getty photos will show the date of the change. That is the strangest excuse I have ever read in my life.

As I said, I am no IT expert, just a slightly above average Internet and database user. But I do believe you, and can only encourage any other computer pundits to step in with their take on things.

If we are not tragically wrong, and it is my strong belief we aren't, this whole affair goes to show how easy it is to manipulate (forgive me, ladies, for I am about to sin, but it is for our own collective good) an aging fandom with technical vocabulary and fallacies they have no means to check.

Thank you, Anon. You are always welcome with open arms in here!

[owedfavors]

una tracks the progress of christine's finger across the map as she diverges further and further from their location. of course her chosen location would lie at the extremity of the map, as if they have not already walked far enough to reach this place. still, it's as good a starting point as any, and una has already resigned herself to the sore feet that would accompany this much walking when so out of practice. it is less far than it seems, una reminds herself, when the current expanse of the city, much of which they have traversed already, spans significantly further than the ancient city whose map they now peruse.

❛ there it is, then. ❜ easy agreement, no time pressures looming over them to send them rushing back to the ship. none, that is, save the late sunset, and of the twenty-seven and a half hour day this planet experiences, twenty one are sunlit at their current latitude at this time of year. her gaze quickly takes in all possible routes from here to there, sorting them by length before discarding that classification in favor of how many other interesting things might we pass by.

she points christine down her selected path, too accustomed to merely making such decisions to clear it with her friend first. ❛ the librarians gave me a host of warnings when I asked for this map. ❜ she remarks casually as they walk, as if this were not something she ought to have brought up at the start of their little venture. ❛ some I suspect are no more than ghost stories, though I would hope librarians would be able to sort superstition from fact. ❜ her tone carries no criticism, despite the words. ❛ we should, however, consider the structural integrity of any buildings we enter. ❜ decades of neglect, following however many other years of wear and tear made it the most plausible risk they would face.

❛⠀⠀⠀or else i’ll find myself out of a head?⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ sounds about fair. a secret for a head, she thinks, lifting her chin, question delivered with precise mock-seriousness that only lasts about five seconds, smile returning to its natural resting place.

there are days, when she doesn’t have much to do — few and far between, the crew’s natural tendency to get in trouble, and her research keeping her schedule packed — when she observes what the others are doing more closely and she can’t help but wonder, as she watches them perform seemingly senseless tasks, if she is an idiot, or if the ship truly is filled with secret levers. a way to keep them all occupied and out of trouble.

honestly, she wouldn’t put it past the commander. though, she amends to herself, distracted by the mystery directly in front of her, that it is best not to linger about it too much, else she might create a theory on how evers keeps the medical crew busy, and that’s not a thought process she thinks would be fair.

when she is handed the padd, it takes her a second to catch up, forgetting her own suggestion from a moment ago. glancing down, then at the map, then back to the world around them, pecing together what una is talking about. ⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀⠀we finally got ourselves a location. now, what can we find here that’s fun...⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ finger hovers over the map, skipping what she thinks might be long gone, going all the way to the bottom where there is a strange drawing of what looks like a house of worship.⠀

❛⠀⠀⠀there might be something there.⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀

[chaos-monkeyy]

haven't played the WIPs game in awhile! if you want to play too, consider yourself tagged 💖

more or less current WIPs and their fandoms, send me an ask about one that interests you and I'll share a snippet and/or some more detail 😁 (all of these are smut and/or kink lol)

Blasted Sidhe Finale - Dresden Files

Get a Room (ch 2) - Stargate

Murdle celebrations - Murdle books

Prax/Amos - Expanse

Tentacle bar - Stormlight

Stealth sequel - BG3

Elhokar being naughty - Stormlight

College Tien sequel - Stormlight modern AU

5 Times Chris and Una Totally Didn't Hook Up - Star Trek SNW

actual thrakif - SW thrawn ascendancy

Harry/Lash/Harry - Dresden Files

More John/Dave - Stargate

[redacted] - BG3 actors RPF that I may or may not ever have the guts to post

Kyl/Mason sequel - original work

[pathlit]

thinking lots today about how una is paradoxically at her most honest when she's talking complete nonsense...

[i-fondued]

Ghost | Sinners in Secret | Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty Four - The La Serenata Incident Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags! A/N:

As always, this chapter is has been reviewed by my beta, @lurancyvenom whom I love! However, as always I snuck this out only half edited because I’m a terror and you should all know how terrible I am!

Full Chapter List - HERE AO3 Link - HERE

The feast after the ritual was easily the largest I’d ever seen.

Given the number of Clergy members and high-ranking Siblings at the Monastery, it had been decided to move the feast from the dining room and into one of the enormous formal hall

The grandeur of the feast and the volume of guests paled into insignificance when compared to the joy I felt at being able to spend time with my boys, especially as I had been locked away from them after each ritual for the last few weeks.

Swiss had led the procession this time, bearing a staff with a grucifix atop it, and Terzo and Copia had been the ones to lead me from the chapel, looking as though we had just walked out of a period drama in our extravagant formal robes.

Finally, the three of us were seated at the top table by ourselves, trying desperately to look interested as Papa Nihil spoke about how proud he was to pass on the honor and duty of the Papacy to his sons; just like his father, and his father’s father…and his father’s father’s father…

Some of the Siblings in the crowd looked bored, and there were more than a few stifled yawns and drooping heads as they fought to stay awake. I had to cover my mouth to hide the giggle that threatened to spill at the incredulous look on Secondo’s face, his eyes filled with a simmering rage as his father droned on. Mercifully, Imperator stood and walked up to the older man, gently taking the microphone from him and turning to smile at us.

“Thank you, Papa Nihil, for that wonderful speech.” She chuckled good naturedly as one of Nihil’s personal ghouls came to collect the wheezing old man and return him to his seat. “Tonight, please enjoy this luscious feast, in honor of the ascension, for tomorrow is the final ceremony.” Imperator sounded almost relieved that it was almost over, and I couldn’t help but to agree with her.

There was a polite smattering of applause, and I smiled at the older woman as she passed us to return to her table. The moment she sat down, the wait staff filed into the room, platters of plates balanced on their arms. They made their way around the tables, depositing plates of food in front of each guest.

As my own meal arrived, I was suddenly ravenous. Hardly surprising after such a long day, not to mention a very long week.

“You look wonderful, Amore,” Terzo whispered in my ear, leaning in so close his breath tickled the loose strands of hair by my ears.

“Thank you, Terzo,” I smiled, biting my bottom lip and leaning back to whisper close in his ear, the gossamer fabric of my veil brushing against his cheek. “You don’t look half bad yourself, you know…”

“Una ragazza così sfacciata…” Such a cheeky girl he chuckled as my hand brushed his thigh, my face the picture of innocence as I moved away from him to take Copia’s hand in mine.

“You look spectacular too, Cardinal.” I smiled softly at him, tangling our fingers together to catch his attention.

“Ah! G-Grazie Topolino,” he stuttered, meeting my gaze briefly before looking back at our hands.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning in closer to him while Terzo sat forward to be able to see him as well. 

Copia seemed to war with saying something before he sighed and looked up at me with an unreadable expression. He placed his other hand on top of mine, my heart instantly jumping up in pulse with concern. 

“I have been so focused on all these rituals…I…I just remembered all the paperwork I will need to do when we get back to the Abbey.”

I laughed, a full belly laugh, and had to cover my mouth as Copia glared slightly at me. 

“I-I’m sorry. I know…paperwork…it’s very serious,” I snickered. Terzo smiled and rolled his eyes before sitting back in his seat before taking a bite of his dinner and sipping his paired wine. 

“You laugh now, Sorella…but soon you too will see the paperwork we deal with now that you are Prime Mover.”

“You mean I have to do paperwork on top of the work I do in the library?” 

“I think Imperator is going to take you off your library duties,” Copia smirked, his hand moving to settle on my upper thigh. I could feel the heat through the silk of his gloves and the fabric of my dress, suddenly there was heat starting to flutter around in my belly. “We will have much more importante work to do, vero Fratello?”

“Si, si…one that requires less ink and parchment,” Terzo chuckled, his hand on my other thigh now. “...and a lot more flesh…”

I blushed and tried to subtly brush their hands away, but they both gripped my thigh tightly and I had to bite my bottom lip. 

“Praise be, Prime Mover Elizabeth.” 

The three of us jumped, both boys moving their hands away, and I smiled indulgently as I turned to the two Siblings that had come to offer up praise and a token of faith. A Brother of Blasphemy and a Sister of Sin stood close, the Brother had his hand on the small of the Sister’s back. They looked up at me like I was their last hope, eyes glistening with unshed tears from the light of the candles everywhere. 

“Praise be, Siblings,” I responded, as Copia had coached me the last time someone had come up. “Thank you for your kind offering.”

I reached out and took the sprig of dried herbs, and couldn’t help but smile softly once I noticed the little charm nestled neatly into the bundle; a carving of a baby bottle made from wood. I knew exactly why they had come to me and my heart ached for them. I steadied my own emotions, a sly prickling in my throat for a moment before I locked eyes with the couple.

“I see you brought this token for me,” I stood, taking the bundle with me, and walked around the table and down the slightly raised platform to the couple. The tables closest to us, filled with senior Clergy, stopped speaking and turned their attention to me. “I shall ask Lucifer to help you with your request. However, instead of offering this to me, let us offer it to the flames here, together.”

The woman looked close to tears, shaking her head reverently as I took her hands and smiled softly at her. Gently I reached forward and cupped her face, she leaned into my hand. 

“I cannot make a promise I cannot keep, Sister, but I will offer my help in any way I can,” I whispered to her, my own eyes growing wet at the desperation in her eyes. “Burn this in the fires tomorrow night, a feast of a binding ritual is better luck. Speak with Papa Primo, he has better knowledge of any and all herbs and remedies than anyone I know.”

“T-Thank you, Your Eminence,” she whispered back, and I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t thank me. I wish there was more I could do to ease the ache. Lucifer works in mysterious ways, do not forget that.” I held this stranger's face in my hands and I tried to convey as much as I could with words, knowing full well that there was nothing I could say that would bring her comfort in this desire. “There are other paths to motherhood, no matter how unconventional. If you need anything at all, please do not be afraid to write to me, yes?"

“Y-Yes, Prime Mover.” She was trembling, tears freely falling as she hugged me tightly. I couldn’t help but hug her back, my heart aching for her. 

After a moment, her partner maneuvered her away from me, giving his own quiet thanks before they headed out of the feast. I watched them go, offering anything and everything I could to Lucifer to help them in their quest. After a moment I came back to myself and I returned to the table, moving my veil from my face so I could continue to pick at my food. It was a few seconds before I noticed both Copia and Terzo were staring at me.

“What?”

“You are a natural, Amore, you know that?” Terzo laughed, the heat in his eyes making me shiver. 

“Si, Stellina, you will take to this role so well. I cannot help but admit that I am impressed,” Copia said, face clearly full of surprise. 

“You both act like you thought I’d be bad at it!” I grumbled, suddenly pouting at the thought of them thinking I wouldn’t be able to manage it

“No, no, Amore, you misunderstand me. It was not that I did not believe in you, it takes a special person to understand what someone needs to ease their suffering, to bring them comfort, especially if they cannot find the words to explain.” Copia explained, a soft look in his eyes. “You will be a wonderful Prime Mover, but an even better mother some day…”

I blushed, mumbling thanks back to him, as I picked at my dinner again. Terzo smiled and pressed a kiss to my temple, before both of them placed their hands on my thighs again. I squirmed slightly, cheeks flushed as they brushed their thumbs back and forth. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to focus on regulating my breathing and not on the feeling of their silk and leather gloves brushing against the fine velvet of my dress. Goosebumps broke out on my arms and I took a steadying breath as their hands crept up my thighs towards my core. I bit my bottom lip hard, clenching my fork in my fist and trying desperately not to squirm as Terzo’s thumb brushed teasingly against my inner thigh. When Copia’s long middle finger just barely grazed my core I gave up, slamming my fork down as I finished eating the main course.

“Meet me in our room in ten minutes,” I blurted quietly, standing and trying to subtly make my way out of the hall. 

I looked through my lashes as I walked away, skirts swishing behind me, the wolfish grins on their faces hinting at the treat that was in store when they caught up to me. I made it about half way, Siblings and Clergy men bowing as I passed, before I heard the voice I had been dreading.

“Prime Mover Elizabeth?” Sister Imperator called out to me, the formal title and name seemingly foreign on her tongue, and I had to fight hard to keep a groan from slipping from my lips. 

“Yes?” I smiled, clearly strained at the corners as my eyes flickered over to see the empty head table. Bastards already had a head start.

“Where are you off to?” Her suspicion was clear in her face as she looked me up and down. She crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side as she waited for me to answer. 

“I-I wanted to go to bed early, I know we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I’ll be up twice as late tomorrow, between the ceremony and the ritual that evening…I want to make sure I can stay up all night, you know?” I chuckled, trying to keep it as casual as possible. She clearly didn’t really believe me, but she knew me well enough that I wasn’t going to be telling her more than that. 

“Very well, off to bed with you darling. You did wonderful today, made this old woman proud.” She smiled, placing a hand gently on my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but smile brightly back at her before excusing myself out of the hall. 

Silent besides the sounds of my shoes on the floors and the satin of my skirts dragging against the marble, I made my way back to the Papal suites. I was about halfway back when I caught the red color of his choir dress out of the corner of my eye. Copia smirked, a wicked and devilish smile, and snatched my wrist before I could say anything. He tugged me without a word into a long and empty corridor, clearly never used, and without another word backed me against the wall. My heart was thrumming impatiently in my chest, my breath short as he gently lifted the veil to expose my face. I whimpered as he pressed his hands on either side of my body and caged me in, not that I was looking to escape in the slightest.

“I have missed you dearly, Amore.” he purred, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed against mine as he spoke. “It has been too long…”

“Copia…” I mumbled, gasping quietly at the feeling of his nose nuzzling against my pulse point as he moved to whisper in my ear. 

“Have you been a good girl, Sorella?” 

“Y-Yes,” I stuttered, capturing an embarrassingly loud moan as it tried to slip from my lips.

“Hm…something tells me you long to be punished…” He chuckled darkly, eyes blazing. “Do you?”

“Don’t tease her, Cardinale,” Terzo cooed, stepping from the shadows and cupping my cheek as Copia pulled back slightly. “Sorella sta praticamente tremando dal bisogno.” Sister is practically shaking with need.

Terzo’s gloved thumb brushed against my bottom lip, the silk warm with the heat of his hands, and I felt myself shiver as my eyes locked on his. He smirked and turned to Copia before speaking again. 

“Besides, Cardinale, if we are going to break the rules we have to make sure we do not mark her…”

Copia growled hungrily, pushing forward to grind his hips against mine, and I moaned quietly at the feeling of his hard cock against my hip. Terzo turned my head to look at him before tugging my chin and kissing me softly. I gasped at the feeling of the two of them; Copia growling in my ear as he ground against my hips and Terzo’s gentle and exploring kisses. I shuddered as Copia pushed the veil back more and managed to knock the gold diadem off my head, the metal clanging loudly on the floor, but in the moment I couldn’t have cared less. Terzo’s gentle kisses quickly turned more possessive, his hands cupping my cheeks as he parted his lips and slipped his tongue against mine. I whimpered, one hand slipping around his neck while the other came to grip Copia’s side tightly. 

“C-Cardinal,” I gasped as Copia pulled me away from the wall and allowed Terzo to slip behind me. The two of them locked eyes, and I knew something had been planned when they smirked wickedly. 

I felt Terzo’s hands settle on my hips and guide me back against him, his obviously hard length grinding against my ass; making me moan and throw my head back against his shoulder. Copia stepped forward and without any warning crashed his lips against mine. I whimpered and rolled my hips against the Cardinal’s, only to be tugged back against Terzo again, who chuckled darkly in my ear and made me shiver.

“So needy, nostra cara…” He brushed his lips against my pulse point, causing me to whimper into the kiss with Copia.

Copia’s hand cupped my head, his fingers slipping into my hair, tugging slightly, and I gasped as my eyes fluttered closed again. My heart was pounding, my chest heaving between kisses as they both took turns taking what they wanted from my body; all the while I was trembling between the ebb and flow of their hips. Boldened by the pair of them, I gently sucked on Copia’s tongue as it slipped into my mouth and I was rewarded with a particularly deep growl as his hips rocked forward so hard it bucked me back against Terzo. We all groaned, writhing against each other, and I couldn't even imagine what we three looked like right now. 

I felt a deep trembling lust in my belly, a warmth spreading to my core, and I couldn’t help but arch my back as I ground back against Terzo. Copia’s eyes were blown wide with lust as I fumbled with the front of his robes, trying to find my way through the layers to be able to touch him. I needed to feel his skin against mine, waiting another twenty four hours felt like being cursed. Copia must have picked up on what I was trying to do because he snatched my wrists, lifting them above me until Terzo was able to grip them instead, a mischievous quirk to his brows.

“You are not in charge here, Stellina,” Copia chuckled, taking my chin in his hand as his other tugged at my skirts. I was panting, face flushed as I struggled slightly against Terzo’s grip on my wrists. “We are.”

I watched as Copia began to slip down to his knees, pushing my long and heavy skirts up, and I whimpered and shook slightly as Terzo chuckled deeply behind me. His hand moved to grip my wrists in a surprisingly strong grip, his other held firm to my hip as he rocked against me. I gasped as I felt Copia’s silk gloves brush against my ankle as he spread my stance so he’d have better access to my dripping cunt. 

“Stellina…so wet for your lovers, eh?” Copia’s voice was deep and grumbly as he pressed a gentle kiss to my inner thigh. 

I was rolling my hips forwards, desperate for friction when suddenly someone cleared their throat.

I would have bet our souls had actually left our bodies, the three of us jumping practically to the ceiling, and all three of our heads whipped in the direction of the sound.

Standing slightly in the shadows, his body language reading somewhere between extremely uncomfortable and slightly amused at catching us, was Omega. What I wasn’t prepared for was the very obvious bulge in his trousers as he walked over to me, almost shy. 

“Omega…” Terzo started, slipping from behind me and stepping forward to almost block the ghoul’s path. “We were not going to…”

“Be thankful I came instead of Multi Ghoul, Papa.” Omega sighed, cutting Terzo off with a glare through the slits of his mask. “He is young and is getting more and more feral by the day…the honeymoon cannot come soon enough…” 

“Sorry…” I blushed furiously, looking back at Copia who face looked almost ominous as he glared at our interruption. “Is Swiss okay?”

“He’s fine, Your Eminence.” Omega took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm as he took a step back from my companions. “Though Sister Imperator has decided he will be guarding your door this evening.”

“Oh…oops.”

“Amore?” Copia’s voice caught my attention and I turned back towards him. 

“Yes?”

The look on his face softened and he took my face in his hands, placing a kiss ever so softly to my forehead.

“Ti amo moltissimo,” he whispered, a gentle smile on his face before he stepped back. 

“I-I love you too,” I whispered, cheeks flushed and longing pulling at my heart. 

“Tesoro, until tomorrow,” Terzo laughed, a small smirk on his face as he dramatically took my free hand and kissed my knuckles. “We will pick up where we left off, si?

“Of course,” I laughed before reaching out and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight boys.”

Wordlessly, Omega bowed his head to the two men and led me from our alcove and out into the hallways back to the Papal suites.

I had fallen asleep rather quickly once I had settled back in my bedroom. 

Swiss hadn’t said a word to me, just glared with his arms crossed as he settled in his seat outside my bedroom door. Imperator had been there with a tired, motherly expression when I arrived. I could have sworn I heard her mumble about us being like a couple of teenagers but I was already yawning as the Sisters from earlier had returned to help me take off the many layers of fabric and heavy formal adornments. 

“Sleep well, Sunshine.” Swiss mumbled as he slipped out of the door, following after Imperator and the other siblings.

“G’night Swiss.” I yawned, smiling sleepily as I tucked myself in. 

I must have only been asleep for a few minutes when I heard a gentle tap on the glass of the small balcony on the other side of the bed. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, the sound almost like the occasional pop of the logs on the fire on the other side of the room. After the first few taps, they were becoming more frequent. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and pulled on a sweatshirt I’d left out after taking a shower. Slipping on a pair of slippers I padded up to the french doors, peaking through the light curtains and outside. 

The balcony wasn’t all that high off the ground, we were on the ground floor after all, it was only up higher due to the foundation. There was a row of hedges in front of the railing that prevented anyone who wasn’t all that motivated from climbing up onto the small balcony. I had to choke back the bark of laughter as I watched a slightly wobbling Terzo and Copia waved at me like a pair of overexcited kindergardeners. 

“What are you two doing out here? It's freezing, plus you’re going to get us in trouble…” I chuckled, wrapping my arms around me tightly as I slipped out of the doors and shut the doors as quietly as I could. 

“Amore…oh, amore…” Terzo’s voice was louder than I would have liked considering how late it was and I automatically shushed him as quietly as possible. Moving closer to the hedges he crooned up to me, eyes soft like a lovesick puppy. “But what soft light through the yonder window breaks?”

“A-are you misquoting Shakespeare at me?” I laughed, shaking my head as my heart squeezed at the look on his face as I leaned on the railing of the balcony. “What are you even doing? We have to be up so early tomorrow…”

“È una tradizione, Amore.” It is a tradition, Amore Terzo said simply, shrugging like I was supposed to know what that meant. Copia still hadn’t spoken but was nodding solemnly, head bowed but there was a mischievous look in his eyes even if he wouldn’t meet my gaze. 

“I don’t understan-” I started to say but Terzo held up a gloved hand, effectively pausing me midspeach. However, rather than responding with words like I’d expected him to, Terzo smiled wickedly before his voice went from his slightly slurred drunken words to silky smooth song.

In a city of ice, there are burning cathedrals

Turning the skies into glass

And through echoing futures, over buckling sutures

That hold shut the wounds of the past

So won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me?

Through a fractured existence, won't you fall for me?

Won't you fall for me, from reality?

To the rhythm of eternity, won't you fall for me?

His mismatched eyes locked with mine, my heart stuttering slightly and I couldn’t help but feel frozen by the intensity of his eyes. My mouth felt like all the moisture had been rung from it, throat suddenly thick with emotion. 

My insecurities surround me like lions in the den

And I feel like I'm losing touch with what I am again

Slowly, I remember why I cannot pretend

That I never think of you in all this screaming silence

Oh God, I wish you were here…

The emotion in his voice was unmistakable and I felt my face soften as he reached a hand out towards me. Without thinking I reached forward over the hedge and let him take my hand, a small almost shy smile on his face that made my heart swoon. 

So won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me?

Through a fractured existence, won't you fall for me?

Won't you fall for me, from reality?

To the rhythm of eternity, won't you fall for me? 

Oh God, I wish you were here.

Won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me?

With my love as your garden, won't you fall for me?

Won't you fall for me, from reality?

I am yours in the end, so won't you fall for me?

When he finished his song, he took my hand tightly in both of his own gloved hands and pressed a kiss to the top of my hand. He locked his eyes with mine again before taking a step back, bowing as I clapped as quietly as possible for him. 

“That was beautiful Terzo,” I smiled, a flush on my cheeks at the idea of them planning this behind my back as a surprise. “Thank you…”

“Sei la benvenuta, Sorella.” Terzo preened, cheeks slightly flushed from my praise and from whatever he and Copia had been drinking before coming out here in the middle of the night. “La serenata…it is an old tradition, slightly out of fashion with the younger couples in Italia, but I had always wanted to do it when it was my turn to be wed. Il Cardinale here is indulging my wish.”

I looked at Copia then, his eyes finally meeting mine, and I was taken aback at the seriousness on his face. His eyes burned with determination as he stepped forward towards me, taking a steadying deep breath. Part of me wanted to tell him it was okay, he didn’t have to do it just because Terzo was doing it. But the words died on my tongue.

I’d heard Copia sing in the past, at least I thought I had, but him singing as part of a group of us during black masses and sermons had nothing on him singing solo. My mouth hung open slightly as the sound of his warm tenor, his eyes closed like he was too anxious to look at me as he shung.  

Can you hear me say your name forever?

Can you see me longing for you forever?

Would you let me touch your soul forever?

Can you feel me longing for you forever, forever?

I know the light grows darker down below

But in your eyes it's gone before you know

This is the moment of just letting go

She said, if you had life eternal

Can you hear me say your name forever?

Can you see me longing for you forever?

Would you let me touch your soul forever?

Can you feel me longing for you forever, forever?

Copia seemed to gain a little more confidence, eyes opening to gauge my reaction. I’m sure I looked stupid, mouth wide open and eyes locked on him in awe. I blushed when he smiled and seemed to let his inner dominant take over as he stepped up and took my hand much like Terzo had. 

We dance once more

I feel your hands are cold

Within your heart, a story to be told

This is the moment of just letting go

This is the moment of just letting go

Can you hear me say your name forever?

Can you see me longing for you forever, forever?

Would you let me touch your soul forever?

Can you feel me longing for you forever and ever?

If you had life eternal...

My cheeks were wet as he finished his song, I didn’t even notice I’d started to cry. He smiled softly at me as he kissed my inner wrist; a shiver running up my spine from the warmth in his gaze and from the chill in the air. 

“Where is that song from?” I asked, my voice thick with emotions as my heart pounded in my chest. It was taking everything in me to not leap over the railing and launch myself into his arms.

“Well…” Copia started before Terzo came and threw and arm around his shoulders, a silly grin on his face. 

“It was una sorpresa, Tesoro.” Terzo teased Copia, the other man looking slightly shy. “Il Cardinale wrote it himself just for you, I have been trying to convince him that he should let me sing it for the next album for the Ghost Project…”

“The song is for Sorella, only she can decide if she wants to share it…” Copia mumbled, suddenly shy again. I smiled warmly, butterflies in my stomach fighting to get out. 

“If I wasn’t locked away like a princess, I’d kiss you both.” I sighed, crossing my arms and attempting to not look like I was pouting. Copia chuckled, cheeks flushed as he tried to reach out for my hand, however Terzo took that a step further. 

“Ah amore, it is not that far of a gap, si?” He giggled, slipping into part of the bush that was a little thin. “I have been sneaking in and out of these suites for years…”

“Terzo…” Copia started warningly, reaching out to steady him slightly as he toddled himself. 

“Terzo I don’t think that’s a great idea…” I laughed, reaching out to take his outstretched hand. 

“Nonsense, Sorella..” He went to wave me off and before he could say anything more, his food slipped on some ice and he went down with a very undignified screach.

“T-Terzo!?” I cried out, forgetting my volume as I pitched forward to try and help him at the last minute. 

“Sto bene, Amore...” The raven haired Emeritus groaned, a chuckle following. “I just need to sit, si?”

“Ai, Terzo…” Copia sighed, rolling his eyes as he slipped between the bushes without a problem and boldly reaching up to me. His voice dropped several octaves as his eyes burned with the same heat as earlier, instantly causing me to squirm as he spoke. “Vieni qui, Donna…” Come here, Woman…

I bent down ever so slightly and his hand wound around my braided hair as he tugged me down to a passionate kiss. I whimpered quietly, my hands reaching out and curling around the edge of his cassock to tug him as close as possible. Copia growled into my parted lips and he tugged my hair slightly causing me to gasp and rock forward against the railing; a shutter running down my spine as I tried to figure out if I’d get hurt slipping over the railing and into his arms. 

Suddenly the creaking of the french balcony doors made me jump about ten feet, then came the deep otherworldly growling. I knew already I was in trouble, but when I felt a slight heat in his palm as he wrapped his hand around my wrist, I knew Swiss was pissed. 

“Ah Multi Ghoul! Eccellente, Sorella was attempting to help me from the bushes you see…” Terzo started to say as he struggled to his feet, pulling dead leaves out of his hair. 

“Save it, Papa.” Swiss growled, eyes blazing behind his mask. “Go back to your rooms before I tell Imperator you two were going to try and break the rules.

“We would never…” Terzo started to try and look offended but the Swiss just fixed him with a look that made even the antipope mumble an apology under his breath.

“For fuck sake you two, its one more night! Then you can fuck her brains out where I won’t have to feel it…” Swiss hissed, throwing his hands up in the air as he glared at my companions. “Go to bed, all three of you. I am begging you.”

“Sorry Swiss…” I smiled sheepishly, slipping past the simmering ghoul before turning back and smiling at my lovers. “Goodnight boys. Tomorrow is the last ritual, then it's just us for two weeks…” 

“And we will take full advantage of those two weeks, Amore.” Copia chuckled, winking at me and causing my stomach to do a flip. 

“Bed. Now. Sunshine.” Swiss growled, practically shoving me back into my bedroom. 

“I’m going, I’m going…” I grumbled before blowing two kisses to the two men outside. 

“You three will be the death of my poor, overworked penis…” Swiss muttered as I choked on my spit while holding back ugly laughter.

[owedfavors]

EPISODE DIVERGENCE ; the cage. ** also known as: TALOS IV AND ITS AFTERMATH.

ON RECONCILING WITH STRANGE NEW WORLDS

for someone as intensely private as una, to have anyone in her head and amidst her thoughts is perhaps the most horrifying of possibilities. when it seems like the talosians are capable of this, her first thought ( even though she knows she should not think about it ) is that they are wrong: she is not human. that they will pull from her mind the fact that she is not human, that they will reveal it, and that this will finally be the end of her career.

they do not.

it takes her a while to figure it out, to realize that, for all they are in the heads of her fellow officers, both on the planet’s surface and on the ship, and for all they can alter her perception as thoroughly as they can captain pike’s or yeoman colt’s, they cannot get a clear read on her thoughts. something in her illyrian genetic make-up prevents it. they do not know she is illyrian, do not know that she cannot have children ( an unfortunately-relevant-to-this-ridiculous-episode part of my unwritten headcanons regarding the consequences of disguising herself as human ), and, upon the planet’s surface during their “escape,” cannot determine from her own thoughts whether she is bluffing when she sets her phaser to overload ( it is for this that the talosian looks at captain pike to ask whether it is a deception. ).

it is not until this final instance when they need a direct read on her that the talosians realize they cannot reach her thoughts. having the decision that these humans are poorly suited to captivity, they are content to release her back to the ship with the anomaly unexplained.

this does, consequently, also mean that the talosian keeper’s observation that includes my most utterly despised line from the entire episode does not come from una’s own thoughts, but from the general perceptions of others ( I will consider it acceptably plausible that colt or other members of the crew would believe her to have feelings for their captain ).

ON THE AFTERMATH

even though the talosians are unable to truly read her thoughts, and even though she is spared that violation of her privacy, talos iv leaves una immensely rattled. for a woman whose entire conception of the universe is built upon empirical fact, whose reality is bounded and defined by what she perceives, who stores no value in things like faith and spirituality and fate, to suddenly no longer be able to trust her own senses affects her immensely. upon the planet’s surface, she keeps her focus: she has a job to do, and until she has returned herself, colt, and the captain safely to enterprise, she does not have time to consider the implications.

when she does, however, the thoughts refuse to leave. they gnaw at her relentlessly. it’s akin to a paranoia, and for weeks she startles awake not knowing where she is, thinks she imagines she sees or hears things that she does not, and otherwise sits with the nagging thought of what if we never left? it is months before these effects fade, but she does not speak of them to anyone, considering it a wholly ridiculous premise and believing there to be no point in dragging anyone else into her own doubts. her rationality rejects it even as her subconscious refuses to let it go.

[choccy-zefirka]

So what's in the file named "The walls wobbl"?

let's learn together! :D

Haha, it's an old-ish fic where Una Cadash is not having a great time in the Dark Future! Serendipitously, I have been meaning to make a minor edit in it bc I wanted to age up Una's kid (who still doesn't have a set name or appearance ooopsie) in case I want to make him into a Rook :3

I will copy-paste it here, but it's just shy of 3K words! TW for the stuff you'd expect in the Dark Future, plus mentions of childbirth and subsequent abandonment of said child (don't worry though, he'll be fine... At least until he becomes Rook, at which point it's out of my hands)

The walls wobble, closing in.

Maybe they really do that. This bloody castle is being held together by spit and red lyrium chunks, and every moment, another bit of it breaks away and floats into the hissing, biting green sky-acid outside.

Or maybe Una is just imagining things. Ever since her little stint in a Chantry cellar eleven years ago — twelve, now; do not think about the kid, about how he would be twelve years old in this twisted future, about how he may have died, when the world drowned in the Breach; do fucking not — she has not been a big fan of walls.

Whatever. It doesn't matter what the walls are actually doing.

All she knows is that inside her pulsing, shrieking, aching head, they shift inch by inch. Bleary-green, with a jagged row of bloodied crystal teeth here and there. Pressing at her. Ready to devour.

Her throat contracts. She feels like all skin on her face and throat has melted away, leaving behind just a thin, slippery, fucking gross film of sweat. She closes her fists with a silent ferocity, until her axe's shaft nearly shatters to splinters.

Focus, Una, focus.

You've seen so much fucked-up shit in these crumbling, dark corridors, and you decide to be scared by the walls? There are people on either side of you who are scarcely even people any more.

Look at them. Shadows in prison rags, with all these crystal shards packed tight under their ruptured, rotting flesh. Still rying to speak with the broken voices of Madame Vivienne and the Lady Seeker. Two fucking strongest women in the Inquisition, reduced to this.

Una glances at either in turn; her jaw tightens, her jowls roll, and she curses the hot tingly feeling in her eyes. Blinking it off, as best she can, she goes back to staring at the third woman ahead of her. The woman who sent her into this blasted stupor in the first place.

She was the Nightingale, once. The Inquisition's spy master. Sod it, Una feels so guilty now for saying that shit to her. Back when the sky was blue, and the ground stayed in place, and there was snow — falling in large flakes and brushing, feather-soft, against the Nightingale's flushed, frost-nipped face when she knelt in her open tent and prayed for her lost Divine.

"Bad things happen. Get used to it," Una told her. Repeating the lesson beaten into her from a very young age — because she knew no other.

Fuck, she had no idea how many more bad things would follow.

At this point, these bad things have kept happening for a whole bloody year, which Una missed — but the Nightingale lived, same as the Madame Enchanter and the Seeker.

These bad things have sucked the color from her cheeks, and sucked the skin dry too. It's all gray now; thin wiry strands of brittle tissue, caked together into a warped mask. Her eyes are vaguely the same still: blue lights burning from the bruised dark pits of her skull. But that wistful sadness, which Una recalls from that snowy day, is all gone. The Nightingale's gaze is sharp now, cutting as a spike of primal lyrium — as the edge of steel, which she presses into the throat of another... creature she has in a stranglehold.

It... He used to be such a good kid. Una could tell, right after getting to know him.

Shit, she saw him last so recently. Couple hours ago, for herself. And for the kid's friend with the 'stache, whom she can hear breathing behind her, in uneven, nearly squeaky gasps, making something in her gut clench sickeningly in return.

And months and months ago for everyone else.

His skin is dry and decaying now, same as his captor's. They share a sickness. So it's written down in the papers they found, scattered around this wretched castle: pale-white sheets like water lilies in the green mire.

Stache told Una what the writing said: she cannot read all that well yet, though a little Chantry sister has been teaching her... was teaching her, a year ago. She is probably dead now, flayed by the fucking cultists into a twitching bloody pulp for refusing to worship their Elder One.

Yeah. Whatever. Una's been thinking too much about who died in here, and when and how.

The papers — experiment reports by the cultists, acting on the orders of that vint in the stupid hood — mentioned that the Nightingale's blood is the only reason the kid is still alive. But while the Nightingale's eyes burn, clear-blue and fierce and angry, his are milky-white. Round and vacant.

 A newborn kitten has more sense in its half-blind stare than he does. Not that... not that Una is the type to cuddle kittens. She is not the type to do anything but fight and curse.

All he can do is whimper softly, limp and meek in the cage of the Nightingale's arms. A quick slash across his sagging, blotchy throat would put him out of his misery. But — oh fuck, his father, the old vint in the stupid hood, is still reaching out to the Nightingale. Still pleading, even as she tilts her dagger just so. Ready to strike.

"Please! Please, I will do anything! Just — just give me my boy back!"

That's all the vint has been doing, all this time. Not cackling and plotting, like the other cultists. Just... Just trying to get his boy back. And fucking up worse and worse along the way. Because he just will not — cannot let go.

Una squirms, drenched in her own sweat.

She — she knew her own son for a grand total of twenty minutes, probably. She has more vivid memories of that fucking pain, in there, in the dark, with the walls threatening to crush her (because of course, she had to go into labor right after those bitchy humans in white locked her up in their Chantry's cellar, on suspicion of theft), than she has memories of holding her babe. And it still hurt to let him go. Even despite knowing that he was going to be raised by sweet, caring surfacer dwarves — totally respectable, hard-working women, with a nice little house, bathing in foamy pink flowers. And with not a blemish of suspicion, not a hint of thieving history to turn them into targets for humans.

It still hurt. After twenty minutes, it still hurt. She cannot imagine how much worse it must be after twenty-something years.

All she knows is... There have been other pages, among those metaphorical water lilies — Metaphorical... that's the sort of word a rich, cultured dwarf like Varric would use. But Una is not Varric, and never will be anything like him. She does not even know why she came up with this fucking comparison in the first place.

Well. Whatever. There have been pages that Stache refused to read out loud to Una. The scribblings on them differed from the cultists' notes — they'd been scattered all over the sheet in a shaky, hurried hand, and were peppered with round, grayish blots. Like someone had been crying.

Tears, shed by anyone who's not a newborn babe (and by many babes too, probably), are a con. Meant to squeeze pity out of people. To twist their minds like a towel, just the way the tear-shedder wants. So Una's been taught. First by her mother, whom she tried to con, time and again, without even realizing. Then, by her trainers in the Carta.

She's learned her lesson, bruise by bruise. She repeats it to herself and others every chance she gets... But she still fucking falls for the con.

She falls for the traces of tears she spotted on those stupid loose pages, next to the only words she managed to make out without Stache's help (before he snatched the paper away altogether, nostrils wide). "Nothing works".

And for the wet glint that is filling the vint's eyes right now, as he lowers himself slowly before the Nightingale. On his knees. Breathless. Shaky. Haggard, with bruised undereye circles almost as bad as on the barely-human faces of Una's companions. And terribly small against the bleeding green walls behind him. Which keep closing in.

At least the Nightingale knows what's what. As the vint begs, she does not falter. Her grip is firm; her death mask of a face, frozen and cast in shadow.

She will do it, even if Una — completely bamboozled by tears, again — orders her to stand down. She will kill the kid. And maybe — maybe the agony that the vint feels in that moment, when all his hopes wrestle his son from death come splashing back in his face, in a jet of slimy, corrupted blood, will make for nice payback. In return for all the suffering in this insane world that he created, when he decided to join a cult and fuck around with time.

That's the least of what he deserves. No amount of tears is going to change that. She mustn't feel sorry for him. She mustn't.

His kid is better off dead now; just as hers was better off far, far away from her. Let the Nightingale do what's right!

The knot in Una's stomach winds ever tighter. Her palms begun to burn — from chafing, all sweaty and slippery, against the axe shaft. That's what she assumes anyway.

In a fraction of a second, the burning sensation soars to splitting, blistering agony... And across the room from her, the Nightingale staggers.

The dagger flares a fiery orange in her withered hand. It eats her flesh up with a crackle, as though her fingers were spun out of wicker rods. She spreads them out, flapping her hand in confusion. And the dagger rattles to the ground.

The kid gawks around with his milky eyes; then, drops on all fours and skitters into the comfort of the shadows.

Una cannot help but exhale. Neither can the vint.

The sound, quaky and strangled, makes the Nightingale snarl. In a broad stride, she sweeps over to the kneeling vint, and aims a kick in his stomach.

"You did this!" she spits, in between muffled thuds.

Out the corner of her eye, Una sees Stache shudder head to toe. His knuckles turn pale over his mage staff, but he does not intervene. Not yet.

"After subjecting us to... to this!" the Nightingale gestures furiously as the heaving walls, while her boot continues its pounding — the same boot that pressed against another vint's throat as she crushed his windpipe. Sod it, she is fierce. Not... pleasant to watch, not like when she strangled the other guy. But still fierce.

"You still toy with us! Still torment us! For the sake of that blighted monster!"

"That's... my son!" the vint spits, before his voice mangles into a wet gargle. "I... I saved him!"

"You saved nothing! Not a year ago, not just now! Do you really think you can stop me from picking up my bow and shooting that thing where it hides?"

"Will you kindly — " Stache squawks.

The Nightingale whips her head upward, glaring at him. He glares back, a vein bulging across the sliver of skin visible through his robe's open collar. For a moment, the kicks stop. It even seems to Una that the Nightingale's eyes mellow, returning to that sad, snowy softness. But it is just a trick of the light. There will be no returning to that Nightingale unless Una and Stache turn back time.

"Please... This is not what I meant..." the vint wheezes, doubled over now, with his gauntlet spikes scraping at the floor. "I don't know what happened to your dagger... I did not cast that magic..."

"Neither did I, in case you are wondering," Stache cuts in again, now with a bit more composure. "And I do think we can all stop being violent towards each other for a moment, so I can have the amulet and reverse this bloody spell!"

"I... I will help you... I did not intend for any of this to happen. I just wanted — just wanted to fix my mistakes."

With a stiff, jittery hand, the vint rummages in his stupid, over-layered, dragon-embroidered robes — grimy and shabby now, full of fraying holes, like a dead thing munched on by maggots — and tosses a small, shiny green cube at Stache's feet. Or, well, not tosses it — more like, lets it roll out of his loosened grasp.

There it is. The thing that leaked ghostly green goop all over the Redcliffe throne room — a whole vertical pool of it, which sucked in Una and Stache, and brought them here. The vint really is giving it up, just like that. The Nightingale must have beaten the last fight out of him... Or maybe — maybe his tears were not a con?

A stupid thought. Whatever.

Stache scoops the amulet into his grasp... Then, looks up at the Nightingale and the others, searching their deathly-gaunt faces, with a frown on his own.

When none of them move, he reaches with his free hand to help the old vint up.

"Dorian," the vint mouths. "I — Let me use it with you; I could..."

Stache looks away.

"I don't think so. You've had your playtime. I will figure the magic out on my own. You can go and stand guard, in case your little friends decide to check on you. I will need about an hour or so —"

A massive rumble dances across the walls. They shake for real this time, dust and plaster oozing off them in powdery rivulets. Something shrieks, out of many inhuman throats. Lined with teeth all the way down; gawping and hungry.

"You do not have an hour," says the Nightingale, before rolling her shoulders and walking towards the door. The shrieks grow louder.

"You only have as much time as I have arrows."

The vint, who has still been leaning crookedly against Stache, straightens up and follows the Nightingale on waddling, unsteady legs. A spark of magic threshes against his fingers, like a trapped firefly.

The Seeker and the Enchater both spring alert, ready to bare their weapons — or use the shard red crust of their arms, when push comes to shove — and give the vint a new beating.

But he does not aim the spell at any of them. He, like the Nightingale, like the other two, who also approach the door, prepares to face whatever lurks, and claws, and drools out there. Beyond the trap of the walls.

"I twisted time out of joint," he says over his shoulder. His voice is oddly calm now; his face would have seemed nearly peaceful, if it were not for the dark bruises and the traces of tears: fine pale lines in the grime.

 "Might as well win some of it back for you. Take care of Felix when you return."

Stache gives him a curt nod and sets to work on unraveling the magic of the little cube, thread by shimmery thread.

The Nightingale, awash with the same eerie peace, notches an arrow and begins to recite some verse from the Chant. Or a prayer, maybe?

"Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame," she says; and the Seeker and the Enchanter raise their heads up high in her wake.

Beautiful stuff, that... Even though humans told Una in the past that it was not meant for the likes of her. That all the likes of her could get would be a lock on the cellar hatch, and walls closing in from all sides. When all she did was hide out in their stupid Chantry, because people were chasing her and she had a babe on the way.

"Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side."

 To the rhythm of the verse, the old vint is the first to fall. Long, green, spindly arms, with claws the length of Una's entire torso, push through a crack in the door. Like meat hooks, the claws dig into the old vint's throat; he grabs back at those monstrous limbs, releasing a zigzagging shock charge and charging them to a crisp. The last thing he does, bleeding in streams out the undulating (Sod it, what a word; a Varric word), gill-like gashes in his neck, is throw the twinkly blue-green net of a barrier over the Seeker and the Enchanter. Something to protect them as they hack and burn the next demon, and the next... Before the door swings wider, and they fall as well.

Once more, a burst of invisible fire eats into Una's eyeballs: they feel like they shatter into tiny crystals of salt. She grinds her teeth, angry and confused, and curses again. There's nothing but the demons and the dead in here  — whom is she conning?

She guesses it must be the pain from the blisters on her hand.

[the-redhead-in-a-dress]

SNW Drabbles (PikeUna)

Just something that's been in my notes app for months and I've never done anything with. I think my idea behind this originally was La'an had turned little in an accident and Chris and Una looked after her before they could turn her back to her regular self. And that this experience made them realize that perhaps having another little one of their own wouldn't be too bad...

________

Christine was ever the professional when one afternoon the Captain came for his bi-yearly physical looking more hesitant than his usual confident self. She had thought nothing of it at first, thinking he was just a little embarrassed that she'd be the one doing his examination. Usually, MBenga covered the Captain's physical but sickbay had been swamped with an unusually high caseload of a rare Andorian flu and he was flat out covering all the patients. So Christine had offered to cover his scheduled check ups for the week.

It was only at the end of the exam in which the topic of his sexual health came up that the Captain's nervousness was explained. She had to have similar conversations about sex with over half the crew multiple times a year, often with many she considered personal friends as well as colleagues. So the nervousness positively radiating from Chris as he sat on the biobed didn't phase her in the slightest, right up until the point in which he mentioned that he would be declining the birth control shots he'd been receiving since he was 16 years old. That was interesting.

She buried her head in the PADD to tick the decline box next to birth control, desperately trying to keep a composed expression before looking up to meet the Captain's eyes.

“This is going to be awkward Sir.” Christine said. “But I need to ask, are you sure about this? The consequences, have you discussed this with your sexual partners.” 

“Partner” Chris clarified with a chuckle. “And yes, we are both fully aware of the consequences that come with coming off of birth control, that was, uh, kind of the point.” Chris’ face turned red as he tried to explain to Nurse Chapel without stuttering.

“I wish you luck Sir. You and Number One will make very cute babies.” She said nonchalantly as she wrote a note in his file on the PADD she was holding.

“I uh didn’t say who.” Chris' face slackened at the mention of Una. They'd been trying to keep their relationship on the down low, and their recent decision to try for a baby was definitely not something they wanted to advertise yet. They were both fully aware their ages meant that their chances of procreating weren't guaranteed, but they had agreed about giving it a go and seeing if it worked out. Their recent experiences with La'an as a toddler had been the spark behind their rather unexpected decision. The experience of caring for her together had led to both of them realizing that the presence of a small child in their lives was something that they actively enjoyed, and now missed now that La'an was back to her usual self.

It had been scary trying to broach the topic with Una, having known her stance on children since they were in their early 20s, they're cute but not something for me. However, halfway through his ramblings Una had cut him off and actually asked him whether he wanted to have a baby with her. He had not so articulately stuttered a yes in response and then they had stood in his kitchen grinning at each other like idiots for several full minutes.

Even the thought of it now, a baby, a Chin-Riley and Pike baby, brought a wide smile to his lips and they hadn't even really started the process yet. Although there had been lots of practice already, because they'd never want anybody to accuse them for being underprepared for anything, in any facet of their lives, professional or personal.

“Firstly, it’s obvious the way you look at her," Christine couldn't help but a grin escape her lips as she responded to the Captain's comment. "Secondly I think La’an will literally kill you if you have a baby with anybody that isn’t Una. And thirdly, I already had to have this conversation with Number One last week and nobody else on this ship except from her has come to let me know they’re willing to procreate anytime soon." 

“Ah, okay."

Not to embarrass him further, Christine turned away from the Captain and moved towards the matter synthesizer in the corner. She played with the settings for a moment before replicating a few vials of what she needed. As she handed them to him she noticed his hands were slippery with sweat.

“You might want to take these supplements every morning, to increase sperm production. I’ve already started Una on something similar to increase her chances of ovulation.” 

“Okay, thank you.” He said awkwardly, hopping off of the biobed in the private exam room.

“Good luck Sir,"

The Captain nodded at her and thanked her for her time and help, before quickly escaping out of sickbay.

Christine shook her head as she watched him leave. Did she just wish one of commanding officers luck in having sex with her other commanding officer? This ship was weird. 

[curator-on-ao3]

💙🩷💛, which is as my love for you, but also the ask game.

Ahh, thank you my wonderful @grissomesque! ❤️

💙 Blue: What inspires you to finish writing a fanfic, and what makes you quit writing one at any stage in the process?

Pure stubbornness gets me to finish. Lemme tell you what happened last night. My WIP? 40Kish words? I did another edit over the course of maybe two days. My life is busy, so edits happened in the waiting areas of various kid lessons, parking lots, stolen moments at home, etc. I got to the bottom of the doc, cleanup draft done, and something happened that I’d never seen before — a red software bar saying there had been a critical error and the document was corrupted.

All my edits over the last couple of days had become gibberish along the lines of my changing “Chris says” to “Chris tells” becoming “Chris saytellss.” Some words were duplicated. Punctuation moved. My backups were of no use and the file corruption included recovery versions — which makes no sense but that’s what I saw with my own two eyes.

I stayed up late, woke up in the middle of the night, and started again first thing this morning to clean up that damn document while my memory was still fresh for the changes I had made.

If it’s a story I want to tell, I will not be fucking defeated.

Now, if there’s a WIP I lose interest in or decide I don’t want to write or whatever, that’s fine. Sometimes what I think will be a story is actually a few paragraphs and an abandoned concept. Learning experience noted, no harm, no foul. But I guess to answer the question, I quit writing if I feel like the story isn’t worth telling. I’ll wrestle with a beast (see above), but if the story is just meh, both the characters and I have better things to do.

🩷 Pink: Do you find a certain character (or characters) easy to write? More difficult -- and if so, do you avoid writing that character (or those characters) when possible?

Damn, I’d like to write more Pelia. I love her so much. She’s definitely not easy for me to write, but I don’t want to avoid her for that reason. I feel like an asshole saying I find certain characters easy to write because who am I to say I write them well? So I’ll leave it at wanting to write more Pelia.

💛 Yellow: Do you ever alter, highlight, or de-emphasize certain canonical traits in a character? If so, why and describe how.

Heck, yeah. I think we all do, including professional writers from episode to episode. I emphasize what I find interesting or what’s useful for a certain story (Una can’t possibly care about her nails every time) and I’ll highlight the heck out of what I think is neat (as you know, when a commenter wrote that she went to transcripts to try to argue my Tom Paris characterization but instead saw that what she thought was in the show was not, indeed, in the show — what a great moment as a fic writer to have my interpretation of canon help another person see a character through fresh eyes).

Also, as we all are very much aware, Trek canon characterization can be inconsistent. Annoying as a viewer. Potentially useful (and potentially annoying) as a fic writer.

Thank you again for asking, @grissomesque! 🩷🐼

> questions from the fanfic ask game <

[beautyofsorrow]

2, 4, 7, 18, 46

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

evil. evil question. why would you make me think about my multichaps. ok so i tried the intensive outlining thing, i really did, and it flopped so bad because i'm pretty sure i have adhd which, among many other things, means i need novelty in order to stay interested in a thing. but i also need STRUCTURE so i know where i'm GOING or i'll never FINISH so i have started doing this thing where i have the vague outline of what happens and then go from there. for without anesthetic, i had a pretty good idea of what i thought the first four chapters entailed before i ever sat down at the word doc, just so i'd have a measure of security behind this wildly ambitious idea. turns out it was only enough for three chapters and i am spinning my wheels a little on the fourth/fifth/sixth, but it's going so much better than my last multichap did, and i haven't abandoned it like my first. so yay! it's my own version of what i call the ann patchett method of drafting (see "the getaway car" in this is the story of a happy marriage for more details on that, dear mutuals who are not zanna). more adhd, but just rigorous enough to keep me from walking out. this seems to be working, but it's also nerve-wracking because oh no, what if i get ?? chapters deep and i've written myself into a corner? (the answer: girl calm down, it's fanfiction and you're supposed to be having fun)

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

i rifle through the fridge at 10pm looking for a very specific food that does not exist and then get mad at myself when i realize i am gonna have to write it into existence.

see also: my love for the characters (/horny and emotional). a desperate need for non-romantic sexually intimate relationships in media. upsetting plotholes in canon. deranged character dynamics. weird takes on popular tropes. religious trauma. family estrangement. being queer. i also read a lot of books and find plenty of sparks ideas juice inside them, usually in their style and execution. i looooooooove studying form and how it influences a book's plot.

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

whatever best serves the story! and/or whatever i feel i can handle best in a given moment. for example, the first time i tried my hand at sex pollen (drown me in glitter, glitter and gold) i had no fucking clue how to write from a sex-pollened person's POV, so the answer was to stay in la'an's head the entire fic. that let me get really comfy with the story so that by the time i had to write her being all high on horny juice, it flowed much more easily than if i had started in una's POV, who's dosed from the start. also, it was a much better, funnier, and stronger fic that way. la'an's mortification really came through and allowed me to hit a lot of comedic beats i wouldn't have been able to hit due to una's temporary plunge into angst.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

i do all three lol. mostly during and after. sometimes i'll have one from the start and it will stick; other times it will change to something else halfway through. many many times i will come screaming into ur DMs complaining about being done with a fic but not having title tags or summary. i started keeping a file in my notes app of lines of poetry i love, and i'll occasionally plunder them for titles. i'll also yoink song lyrics (just give me trust and watch what'll happen), riff on character quotes or episode titles (without anesthetic, ad astra), or rotate the fic in my head until something appropriately vibe-y presents itself (dress me down and hold me open, aces wild, stitch)

46. How would you describe your style?

contemplative, lyric and/or comedic (depending on the fic), & character-driven