#❅ VERSE ❅ // && rise of the inquisition

[dreadbornesaint]

tag dump - verses

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

Character & verses (2/2)

[moineauz]

may i request a ticket for mosaic the memento with boothill?

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆ノ𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 — boothill !

synopsis: lovers that collect each other, piece by piece and display it in peculiar ways.

side comments: tysm for requesting!! I definitely had fun with this and boothill in general. I took the concept quite literally hehe.

extra: gn reader, angst & fluff, mentions of marriage, established relationship word count: 1, 184

When eyesight failed, you turned to the wind's caress, the hum of incessant chatter, and the mechanical click of Boothill's shoes like a heartbeat made of flesh and bone.

Penacony thrived and bounced with promise and prose that night, as it has every night; brimming with the convivial spirit of a cocktail. While morphing desire into the tangible.

Nevertheless, Penacony is a pest: a jewel sowing songs of seduction, Time spent in Penacony rots the living flesh.

"You're thinkin' too much again."

Languidly, you turn your head towards the man leaning against the door frame. His limbs slacken as a tender grin pressed onto his face. It was as beckoning as a blast of dust and powder. A soothing grace found in jagged cliffs.

"It's Penacony," you begin scrupulously, "It's difficult not to think of-"

A small nail bolt hits the ground, a ring reverberating throughout your hotel room: a sour psalm. Your eyes observe the nail as it spins toward the tip of your boot; halting it in its path.

Boothill scrutinizes your eyebrows and how they crease, your placid countenance replaced by blunt displeasure. You cast a faint sigh, rolling your wrists until you discerned a click. A practice Boothill has inscribed into your skin it seemed. To Boothill, your faint, pervasive sighs are like wisps of smoke billowing in feeble puffs. It is the kind that Boothill could keep within the biting palms of his hands like a cloud of mist rolling over a slumbering horizon.

"Boothill," you chide askance, the nail now tightly wrapped under the guileful length of your fingers, "You're falling apart, again."

Boothill emits a delicate laugh; carrying through the thick atmosphere of your hotel room like fog being pushed to the side. "Oh? It's Nothin' to worry bout'," he exclaims, his grin acute and unrelenting like a child.

You scoff, your face solemn. "You're a fool then."

Boohill raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "A fool?" he begins with a tone of toying inquisition, "And what kind of fool would I be then?"

"The kind that never listens," you seethed as you turned your back and rummaged through your satchel. The click and ring of colliding components rebound from the disquieting walls. "Tell me, is it that difficult to keep your gun down?"

Instead, Boothill's legs carry him to the side of your bed; hoisting himself up before lying down on his back, his right hand gingerly tapping against the plating of his chest. One beat after another, one rise of your chest like sundown, one click before the drop.

The room grows reticent as does Boothill's incessant chatter. You considered him like a fly; one swat never ceased his lingering. His buzz and wagers compelled you to an ineffable cusp of undoing. He tugged at your hair, sauntered over your plans and tenderly pressed his treasured gun against your skull like a prayer of undying fidelity: the kind that reaches from the mounds of soil, dust and dirt. A skeleton crawling on the face of the Earth.

However, you kept the bones of that same serrated skeleton in your coat pockets. When the night yielded its youth, you traced your glided hands over its ridges like one recites verses in a destitute, ceaseless pursuit for solace. You hauled the bones of your dead on your back, straggling through sand dunes and sun. Thus, you ensured the bones would never corrode or break. For safekeeping, you thought.

"It always surprises me," professed Boothill, his body still limp on your bed, "That you carry every part of me in that damn satchel of yours."

He then scoffs, amused, "It's ridiculous."

A subtle, witty smile unwinds on your lips before you exasperate, "Well, I find it more ridiculous that a full-grown man needs his spouse to cover his boo-boos."

"Ha!" exclaims Boothill, a smirk unveiling itself, "And what's so wrong bout' that?"

You simply hum at this question, still absorbed by the sensations of various metal pieces grazing against your skin. "Boothill," you betokened "Which wire is thinner? The one on the right or the one on the left?"

Boothill promptly glances at the side table, "The one on the right."

You reach for the wire on the right, no inkling of doubt smearing the page of your chest.

Boothill never pressed his knee down or slipped a circular piece of metal on your finger.

On the contrary, you professed your devotion while uncoiling the vast forests of his wires found in his spinal cord and replacing the plating of his shins. Like a doll being unwinded: its button eyes stitched concurrently to become whole.

Boothill pondered the concept of marriage and discerned it to be ludicrous. However, there was a peculiar charm found in the title "My spouse" like windchimes that crash and sway, casting their dreams into an afternoon breeze.

He reminisced how you ripped his chest open and raised his metal heart in the plane of your hands like an offering. He entrusted you.

You dismantled him with each screw and wire; rerouting and disconnecting nerve after nerve, daring not to draw a breath in fear of failure. His entire being rested upon the pull and press of your fingers and the thrust of your arms. Boothill observed beads of sweat trickling down your forehead and the tentative purses of your lips. He could recount the strands of hair that brushed against your cheek and the bitter pit of envy and spite that grew in him like a weed. The wind could stroke your cheek and the Earth could wrap you fold upon fold until you became the foundations of life itself. Nevertheless, Boothill comprehended how insatiable he was. He envied how the folds of death seemed to embrace you closer than he could ever offer you.

The vibrations of your proposal still ring in his head and run up his spine with the zeal of electricity and the parting words of tenderness. Thus, how could he ever say no?

"I'm almost done with your leg," you muse, your eyes bouncing from Boothill's reposed face and the length of his leg.

"Why'd you ask to become my spouse, ( Name )?"

You blink, the movements of your hands paused while the clock continues to cast its familiar tick-tok. "Don't call me that," you remarked indifferently, your hands promptly resuming their work.

"Then what do I call you?" drawls Boothill, his eyes fixated on the tenacious shifts of your expression.

You emit a half-amused scoff before avowing, "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

"Alright then," teases Boothill, "We can play it that way." He pauses, then prompts, "Why'd you ask to become my spouse, doll?"

With that simple phrase, you gingerly place your tools down and lean forward. The poignant warmth of your breath skimming over Boothill's smooth cheek. A blinding smile tugs at the corners of your lips and the placid facade carved in your face broke with brilliance like the yolk of an egg. The corners of Boothill's eyes pooled with awe.

"Because I was tired of carrying pieces of you in my pockets."

general masterlist. request page for event.

[blightoath]

dragon age: the veilguard

main verse: feyn as rook

after allying with the inquisition, feyn was summoned back to weisshaupt to debrief all the events of the south and answer for his actions commanding the remaining wardens.

this is when he first realized he was never going to see eye to eye with the first warden.

while feyn made the best of his time at the fortress, he struggled with the first warden's overbearing nature and dislike for feyn's more creative problem solving. despite being a warden for roughly fifteen years, feyn was continually treated as if he were a new recruit, undermining much of the confidence and leadership he'd managed to learn while operating on his own in the south.

so he left.

he slipped out in the night with the help of some friends and followed his wanderlust. his journeys and adventures took him all over the place, a few highlights including:

became haunted in nevarra (it was kinda fixed)

sailed with avvar explorers along the rivaini coast

stopped some venatori in tevinter from preying on a political envoy

helped ensure a group of antaam soldiers stayed lost in antiva

helped rebuild a town after a mudslide in the anderfels

feyn runs into varric and recognizes him from the inquisition. after a night of drinks and reminiscing, feyn agrees to help stop solas--someone he never knew, not really, but if varric is vouching for him, that's good enough for feyn. it's not long after that they get a lead in minrathous from someone named neve gallus, racing against the ticking clock to stop whatever it is that solas has planned.

highlights of decisions*

saves treviso

punches the first warden

backs up antoine and evka using the joining to save people

chooses harding to lead the second squad

chooses bellara to work on the wards

all factions maxed, all companions survive the final battle

works with mythal and the inquisitor to intervene with solas

encourages harding to embrace her powers but remain herself

encourages bellara to preserve the ancient elven knowledge

chooses for griffons to stay in arlathan

urges emmrich to resurrect manfred and give up lichdom

neve does whatever it takes to protect minrathous

lucanis and spite come to an understanding and imprison illario

*will happily default to a canon character's desired path

secondary verse: companion

by the time solas' ritual is interrupted, feyn gets word from several friends and acquaintances of things going to shit. darkspawn are on the rise, somehow worse than before. old magic that was stable, reliable, is on the fritz. creatures only barely remembered are now reappearing all over. so when feyn finally meets rook, he's got a fist full of problems from all over thedas and one simple request: help me fix what's broken.

[illusivesoul]

A new chapter of my Femslash February 2022 fics, a year later lol. Morrigan/Leliana angsty smut.

Words: 2076 Read it on AO3

The flame engulfed the tip of the incense rod. Waiting a moment for the fire to warm it, Leliana blew into it to put it out, and the red hot tip of the rod emanated a powerful scent that began filling the rookery.

The spymaster sat against the stone wall, eyes closed as she let herself be enveloped by the smell of the incense and the warmth of the candles, though the comforting gaze of the statue of Andraste gave her all the warmth she needed.

She had come to value these moments in the dying hours of the day. All the crows were away, and they would begin arriving as soon as the sun started to crest over the horizon. Her agents were resting or away on missions.

.

For a couple hours, she would have the comforting silence she had come to enjoy, with only the moonlight that crept through the clouds and the window to keep her company.

She would have the silence and shadows that had become her home.

Closing her eyes as she kneeled in front of Andraste, she let the words fill her mind.

"The army of the faithful gathered before the gates of the city

Wept openly. And from among them voices raised

In threnody for Andraste wreathed in flame.

Though the fire enveloped her like a shroud, and the heat from the blaze

Reached across the field, Andraste was silent and did not cry out.

And the legionnaires who stood guard nearby

Were shaken, and began to whisper among themselves:

"Is she truly the servant of a god?"

The loud caw that rang across the rookery made the verses of the Chant vanish from her mind, and she instinctively found herself holding her dagger in front of her, her mind and body honed to confront threats at any moment should they arise.

Yet her eyes found nothing but the emptiness that had been her comfort just moments before.

A loud swooping sound was heard, and darkness enveloped the room as the candles were snuffed out, with only a few rays of moonlight preventing the darkness from completely overtaking the rookery.

Another caw, and when the brief noise of a spell vanished, a familiar presence made itself felt.

“I can smell you, witch”

“But can you see me, nightingale?” The voice whispered by her ear as a cold hand placed itself softly on top of her eyes, blocking her vision as another softly wrapped itself around her neck, the unnatural cold creeping into her skin making it clear that there was magic at work.

Leliana felt her resolve waiver, her grip on the dagger loosening as her hands fell to her side as Morrigan’s mouth found her neck, making a desperate gasp leave the spymaster’s lips as a deep kiss that would surely leave a mark was etched into her skin.

And the sensations stopped.

Opening her eyes and swiftly turning around, she was met by a smirking Morrigan , a large black robe covering all of her body and a half smile set on the witch’s face, enjoying the anger she saw rising on the redhead’s face.

“So predictable. You always did have that weak spot on your neck”

“Why are you here, Morrigan?”

“Must we play this game every time, Leliana? We both know I’m not here to join you in your praying to a statue and your silent maker” 

Leliana’s gaze followed Morrigan as she started to pace around the rookery, her long fingers tracing the shape of the now darkened Andraste.

"Shouldn't you have already run back to Celene's side? She must miss you greatly. I know she's found quite a lot of uses for your tongue, most of which go far beyond advice on the magical and the arcane"

Morrigan let out a brief but loud laugh "The Inquisition's dreaded spymaster jealous of the empress of Orlais? My, my. Jealousy is such an unbecoming trait, Leliana. I do understand your frustration though. I imagine being the left hand of the Divine and a woman of faith doesn't let you use your tongue in the ways that you so much enjoy" 

Morrigan's eyes drifted to the dagger in Leliana's hand, seeing the fingers tighten around its handle before she sheathed it.

"Would you have preferred that I'd be advising the Inquisitor instead? So we could gaze angrily at each other and exchange barbs during the strategy meetings? Getting you all worked up so that you can then push me into the many dark corners of this castle and…"

“Get out”

“The Inquisitor told me how you described me. ‘She's ruthless. Capable of anything’. Surprised you didn’t tell him that I ate children and set towns on fire for fun. Though you’re not one to tell stories anymore, from what I’ve heard”

“As if I would need to exaggerate to describe your… wickedness. I merely made the inquisitor aware that he should not let his guard down around you. The rotten apple doesn’t fall from the tree, after all” Leliana replied as she stepped closer to the witch.

Morrigan huffed, but Leliana noticed the way the witch’s fists clenched “Looks like your tongue hasn’t dulled. Shame you hardly put it to use other than to pray to the nothingness”

“You’d do well to leave now”

Morrigan leaned into the statue, and with a subtle movement, the robe partly opened, letting Leliana see enough to make whatever resolve she had left vanish.

“Make me, spymaster”

Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The spymaster's gauntlets hit the ground as Leliana pushed Morrigan against the wall, their mouths locked into a fiery kiss that made them both gasp loudly for air. This was the part that the witch always enjoyed the most, seeing Leliana's barely contained anger transform into unbridled passion. She pushed the woman's head downwards, Leliana gasping in pleasure as her lips moved from Morrigan's neck to the space between her breasts. Her head lingered there. Morrigan softly kneaded the red hair, and they didn't move for a moment. Too soft, too intimate, too vulnerable for her liking.

She nudged Leliana's head to the side, and the woman wasted no time in capturing a hardened nipple in her mouth, her hands softly grabbing the breast and massaging it. Morrigan closed her eyes and gasped as she listened to the pleasured sounds coming from Leliana as her lips and hands did wonders on her tits.

She knew how much the redhead enjoyed this, and she in turn took her pleasure out of hers.

The seas shall rise and devour them

The witch raised her hips to make them meet Leliana’s hungry mouth as the spymaster kneeled in front of her. The mouth that by now knew every fold, mark and line spot of her skin. The redhead placed one leg over her shoulder, placing some quick kisses on the stretch marks that adorned her stomach before burying herself in Morrigan’s core.

Morrigan moaned, letting out loud groans that filled the rookery as Leliana's fingers toyed with her soaked folds, her face buried in the black mound of hair between her legs, taking every scent and drop that came from the woman.

Morrigan buried her hand in the woman's red hair and pulled her back, Leliana's needy and wanton filled groan as her mouth parted from Morrigan’s fold making the witch’s knees feel weak. The sheer look of despair and want in the redhead's blue eyes as she met Morrigan’s along with the glow of wetness that covered the lower half of her face made a shiver go up and down the witch's spine.

Leliana tried to move forward, but Morrigan pulled her back, drawing out another groan in frustration from her before letting her finally plunge in once more.

The wind shall tear their nations

Leliana gasped against the cold stone as Morrigan held her closely from behind, her armour coming undone with the swiftness that only familiarity could bring.

Her legs spread, and the cold air coming through the roof brushed against her skin, but the feeling was soon drowned by Morrigan's fingers slipping inside her, curling upwards and reaching that spot that made the spymaster's knees weak at the same time as the woman’s other hand reached around her and began softly rubbing her engorged clit.

The redhead pushed against Morrigan, their bodies being as close as they could be, their moans uniting and turning into the symphony that they had grown accustomed over the years, a music that was only meant for their ears.

“Say it” Leliana demanded amidst her moans.

“Make me say it”

Leliana grabbed the back of Morrigan’s head and turned hers to meet her eyes “Say it, Morrigan”

“I… I love you” The witch answered, follow immediately by a curling of her fingers inside Leliana and another brushing of the woman’s clit, making the spymaster dissolve into a trembling mess only held upright by Morrigan’s grip.

They laid down on top of the black robe on the ground as Leliana’s climax passed, Morrigan enveloping the two of them in a comforting magical warmth that made the cold mountain wind vanish from her minds.

Morrigan moved her hand from Leliana, only for the spymaster to grab it and press it firmly around herself, not before planting a soft kiss on the palm of the witch’s hand. Morrigan placed a soft kiss on her neck as she held her tightly from behind, feeling the rhythm of their breaths moving in tandem as her eyes got lost in the full moons that shone their light over the two of them. 

“Are you still awake?” Morrigan asked after some time.

“Yes”

“Aren’t you going to ask about Kieran?”

“I want to, and at the same time I don’t.  You’ve made it clear that you don’t want me to be part of his life”

“I never said that”

“You did not have to. Your actions said it for you. He is already old enough to remember things, Morrigan. I’d rather he not think of me at all than be the woman he’ll see once every couple of years or once every decade when her mom decides to stop by. Because her mother is an egotistical, selfish…”

Morrigan felt her stomach sinking as she heard the pained hush Leliana let out, and she could tell without seeing that there were tears running down her face “Maker, you break my heart, Morrigan. Every time”.

Morrigan waited until enough time had passed, until Leliana’s breathing told her she was lost in the world of dreams before uttering words that only the 2 moons in the sky would listen “I am sorry, my love… for everything”

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

The loud caw that reached her ears made her eyes snap open as she stood, her heartbeat raising at the swiftness of her movement. As her vision cleared from the tiredness of sleep, Leliana saw several crows standing on the railing and near their cages, filling the air with their noises and with the small rolls of papers containing important information tied to their legs. 

"Morrigan?" Leliana asked as she stood, wrapping her arms around herself as the cold morning wind that entered through the open window brushed against her bare skin as the first rays of sunlight appeared over the horizon. 

She stood and took a few steps before noticing the large black robe on the ground. Wrapping it around herself, her eyes closed for a moment as the lingering traces of the perfume reached her nose.  The witch was gone. Leliana knew she wouldn't stay. She never did.

As her sight moved to the other side of the room, where the sunlight had started to shower the statue of Andraste. Yet this time, the statue's gaze gave no warmth, no comfort. Just an emotionless, cold, judging stare that Leliana felt it pierced the depths of her soul, so much that she had to turn her eyes away from it.

Once again she felt the sinking feeling in her stomach, the want to feel anger but only being able to feel regret, the constant longing that perhaps this time it would have been different, that perhaps this time… she would have stayed.

She knew better, yet she kept hoping.

"Morrigan?... Morrigan…"

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find only silence.

[spacemilkies]

hopeful hearts pt. i

pairing: (past) jedi!reader x dagan gera

rqt: [] yes [x] no

wc: 11k+ (lmaoo i have a problem)

a/n: spoilers!! also, there will be a second part to this.

synopsis: the world is never as simply as it appears. but you learn that unraveling it often comes with more consequences than you can handle.

You stand patiently beside your master outside the council rooms of the Jedi Temple. As you wait, you take in the surroundings: the smooth marble floors, the tall pillars that hold up the ceiling, and the large doors that lead into the chambers.

Some may call you undeserving, others unlucky, but what you know to be true is that one does not take an apprenticeship to Santari Khri lightly. The woman saw potential in your inquisitive mind, and the years under her tutelage have filled out a healthy promising history for you both.

You feel honored to have been chosen as her Padawan when she ascended from Knight to Master, and you hope that in the coming years she will witness you following in her footsteps. For now, you soak up all the knowledge you can gather from observing her interactions with fellow Jedi and council members.

Today is no exception.

Suddenly, your master's voice cuts through your thoughts, "Padawan, I would like to introduce you to Jedi Knight Dagan Gera."

You turn your gaze to the man beside her, who stands tall and proud with a confident aura. You’ve heard the name, not only in passing, but from Santari’s lips on a few occasions. Although typically lacking the mellowed patience it holds today, in the past, her frustration has bled through her otherwise carefully crafted mask of resolve. Apparently, the Kage is also notorious for his hardheadedness as he picked and prodded at Santari’s research. It seems, however, that in recent months they have maintained a stable truce.

Santari never fails to voice the importance of building bridges, even those that take special bricks to mold. And Dagan is a particular one indeed. He is known as a renowned Jedi Knight who once dueled and defeated a Gen'dai. His features are striking, with pale skin and silver eyes that seem to pierce through your very being.

Santari makes easy conversation, and you can't help but admire his beauty. However, as he deflects more inquiries than he responds to, you can’t help but feel as though he is rather impersonal and stoic. Everyone has their uses, but you can find none toward your benefit in Dagan Gera.

You sense your master's amusement at your reaction, and she lets out a laugh before turning to you.

"Return to your studies, Padawan. I wish to speak with Dagan privately," Santari says before gesturing for the Kage to follow her.

As they walk away, Dagan gives you a fleeting look, leaving you with mixed emotions. His gaze is molten despite its brevity, and you can't help but feel drawn to it, despite your unease.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

Hours pass as you train in the sparring room, trying to improve your lightsaber skills. You are steadily rising towards your trials to become a Jedi Knight, well-versed in the knowledge of the Force, but lacking in your combat prowess.

As you pause for a break, Santari calls for you. "You’re steadily improving. You make me proud," she says with a small smile.

"Thank you, Master Khri," you reply.

She gestures for you to follow her to the sidelines of the arena, away from the bustle. As you walk, you can't help but ask, "Did everything go well with Knight Gera?"

A knowing glint flashes in her eye and you know you've been caught. "Padawan, I'm afraid I gave you the wrong impression of Dagan Gera," she begins, and you look up at her in surprise. "Despite your force sensitivity, I’ve told you often your emotions bleed quite freely. But do not worry, no one was offended by your mistrust."

You feel embarrassed at being caught. The lingering glances the man had given you now make sense. Santari never spoke beyond a person’s intentions, making you believe that Dagan Gera was about to be a more pasing face. Perhaps he would be partnering with Santari’s archive retrieval system?

From what you've heard of him, he's well-versed in both battle and exploration. Maybe there was use to him yet.

"I think it would be beneficial for you to practice your lightsaber skills under his tutelage," Santari says gently.

You hesitate at the suggestion, surely your progress was slow but getting better. But Santari's expression is one of firm resolve, and she continues, "He has agreed, so your worries should not linger there. It will be good for you both, as he apparently also needs practice on how not to scare away apprentices."

As Santari finishes speaking, she places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Trust me, Padawan, this will be a good opportunity for you to learn from someone with a different perspective. And who knows, perhaps you will find some common ground with Knight Gera."

You nod, taking in her words. While you still feel uneasy about the idea of training under Dagan, you know better than to disobey your master's orders. "Yes, master. I will do my best," you say with a determined tone.

Santari nods, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "I have no doubt that you will, my Padawan. Now, let's return to the temple and get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

With that, she leads the way back to the temple, and you follow behind, your mind already turning to the challenge that awaits you in the form of your upcoming trials to become a Jedi Knight.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

As you approach the training grounds, your heart starts to race with nervous anticipation. Today is the day of your first training session with Dagan Gera, the infamous Jedi Knight tasked by your master to teach you the ways of the lightsaber.

Dagan, expectantly, is already waiting for you, standing tall and composed in his traditional Jedi robes. His silver eyes meet yours, and you feel a surge of excitement mixed with a tinge of fear. You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves.

"Good morning, Padawan," Dagain greets you with a nod. "Are you ready to begin your training?"

You nod, trying to hide the excitement in your voice. "Yes, Knight Gera."

Dagan walks over to you and inspects your posture. You try to stand tall and confident, but you know that your faults are showing. He frowns slightly and shakes his head.

"Let's start here," he comments. "Your stance is too wide, and your weight is too far forward. You're leaving yourself vulnerable."

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. "I'm sorry, Knight Gera. I'll try to do better."

Dagan doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he stands in front of you and demonstrates the correct stance. "Your feet should be shoulder-width apart, and your weight should be evenly distributed between them. Your knees should be slightly bent, and your hips should be pushed forward. This will give you a stable base and allow you to move quickly and efficiently."

You try to mimic his stance, but it feels awkward and unfamiliar. Dagan notices your struggle and steps closer to you.

"Let me adjust your posture, this is more fitting for your height." he says. He places his hands on your hips and gently shifts them forward, adjusting your stance. You feel a jolt of energy shoot through your body at his touch, and you try to compose yourself.

But before you can dwell on it too much, you blurt," Are implying that I'm short?"

Dagan is taken aback by your question at first, not quite recognizing the jest. You can see a flicker of confusion on his face before he quickly composes himself.

"Short? No, not at all," he says, his voice calm and collected. "Your height is not a fault. It's all about how you hold yourself."

He steps forward and adjusts your stance, moving your feet and shoulders into a more balanced position. You can feel the difference immediately, the weight shifting more evenly across your body. Dagan's hands are warm on your shoulders as he adjusts your posture, and you can't help but feel a sense of trust in him.

"See? It's all about finding the right balance," he says, stepping back to admire his work. "Now, let's try a few basic movements. I want you to focus on your breathing and the movement of your body. Let everything else fall away."

You nod, taking a deep breath and trying to clear your mind. You can feel Dagan's eyes on you as you start to move, his gaze sharp and focused. You try to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

But after a few moments, the tension becomes too much. You blurt out another joke, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, I've heard stories about your duels. I'm not sure I'm ready to face you yet."

Dagan's expression softens, and he chuckles. "Oh, I'm not that intimidating, am I?" he says, his voice light. "I'm here to help you learn. We'll take it at your pace."

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, and you realize that maybe Dagan Gera isn't so unapproachable after all. You start to relax, focusing on your movements and your breathing. Dagan watches you closely, offering the occasional correction or bit of encouragement.

Dagan steps back and nods in approval. "That's better. Now, let's begin."

He ignites his lightsaber, and the blade glows golden in the early morning light. You do the same, and the humming sound of the lightsaber fills the air.

Dagan takes a few steps back and gestures for you to attack him. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then you lunge forward with your lightsaber.

Dagan easily parries your attack and counters with a swift strike. You barely manage to block it, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. You're clearly outmatched.

"Relax," Dagan says calmly. "Don't let your fear control you. You need to be calm and focused in combat."

You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. You attack again, this time with more precision and control. Dagan continues to parry and counter, but you're starting to get the hang of it.

As you continue to spar, Dagan offers advice and critiques your form. You find yourself relaxing in his presence, and you even crack a joke about your height. He is taken aback for a moment, not recognizing the jest, but then he smiles.

"Ah, I see what you did there," he says with a chuckle. "Very clever, Padawan."

You can't help but laugh too, relieved that he's not as unapproachable as you initially thought.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

Training with Dagan had become a new fixture in your life, and each session left you feeling like you had only scratched the surface of the mystery that was Dagan Gera. Despite this, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, his enigmatic presence captivating you in a way that you couldn't quite put into words.

You've been hesitant to ask Santari about Dagan, even though you're certain she's aware of your curiosity. Her warm but guarded smiles make you feel foolish for even considering asking. Instead, she always steers the conversation towards your studies, a topic on which you both can easily connect.

As you sit in the library, surrounded by towering shelves of ancient tomes and manuscripts, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. The soft rustling of pages turning fills the air, and the gentle scent of parchment and ink tickles your nostrils, pulling you deeper into the world of the Force.

This place, with its endless supply of knowledge and secrets, has become your sanctuary. The books here are like old friends, their yellowed pages and faded ink a testament to the wisdom they contain. You know that you could spend a lifetime in this library and still only scratch the surface of what it has to offer.

But as you lose yourself in the study of the Force, you hear footsteps approaching. You don't need to look up to know who it is. The sound of the footsteps is unmistakable; you've become rather familiar with Dagan's gait from your sessions together. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Santari told me that you were a quick study. I'm find myself still surprised yet curious." Dagan says, his voice even and measured. "He gestures to the books, "You study often?"

You look up, trying to hide your surprise. It's rare for Dagan to initiate conversation outside of your training sessions. "Of course, Knight Gera," you reply, sitting up straighter in your seat. Combat was expected, but knowledge was coveted within the Order.

As Dagan leans against the table, you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest. You try to ignore it, knowing that the Jedi Code forbids attachment, but you can't help but admire him. His eyes seem to gleam with a depth of knowledge that you find irresistible, and his calm demeanor is both reassuring and intriguing.

"Tell me, what do you know about the Force?" Dagan asks, his voice low and smooth.

You take a deep breath, recalling all the information you've learned over the years. "The Force is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together. Jedi use the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack."

Dagan nods, seemingly impressed. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at having pleased him.

"And what do you know about the Jedi Code?" he continues.

You recite the code flawlessly, feeling a sense of confidence that comes from knowing you've impressed him. "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force."

Dagan's eyes flicker with approval, and for a moment, you feel like you could get lost in them. You shake your head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

As the conversation with Dagan continued, your admiration for him grew stronger with each passing moment. You found yourself hanging on his every word, captivated by his knowledge and wisdom. He had a way of making even the most complex concepts seem simple.

But then, partway through an explanation, Dagan's attention flickered to the darkening sky through the window, and his brow furrowed. You realized with a start that you had lost track of time, lost in the Jedi Master's presence. You offered no complaint as he rose to leave.

"Thank you for the conversation," Dagan said with a slight nod of his head. "I see why Santari felt as though we may improve upon each other."

As you watched him leave, your heart heavy with longing, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a mentor like him. Someone who could guide you on the path to becoming a Jedi Knight, to unlock the full potential of the Force within you. The room suddenly felt empty without him, as if the very air had lost its vibrancy. You knew that you had much to learn, but you felt more determined than ever to follow in Dagan's footsteps.

Dagan Gera remained an enigma.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

Dagan had been your mentor for a few weeks now, and while your training had been rigorous, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more.

As he observes your stance, you take in the way his eyes move across your body, analyzing your posture and movements with precision. You can feel a warmth spreading across your cheeks, and you quickly focus on the task at hand.

You begin the exercises, each movement fluid and graceful under Dagan's watchful eye. The sound of your lightsabers clashing fills the room, creating an almost hypnotic rhythm. As you continue, you find yourself lost in the moment, your mind and body focused solely on the task at hand.

After what feels like hours, you finally come to a stop, sweat dripping down your forehead. You look up at Dagan, who nods in approval. "You're getting better," he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Thank you, Knight Gera," you say, feeling a twinge of nervousness as you address him so formally.

He notices your discomfort and his expression softens. "Please, if it benefits your success, than as your instructor, the pleasure is mine." he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

You feel a rush of warmth at his words, and you can't help but feel a sense of closeness between the two of you. You begin to walk towards him, your eyes locked onto his, and he meets your gaze without hesitation.

As you approach him, your heart begins to race, your mind filled with thoughts and emotions you never expected to have. "Dagan," you say, the sound of his name leaving your lips feeling foreign and yet somehow perfect.

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment. "Yes?" he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of bravery you never knew you possessed. "I just wanted to thank you," you say, your words slow and deliberate. "For everything. You've been an amazing mentor, and I feel like I'm really starting to learn from you."

Dagan nods, his expression serious. "You're a quick learner," he says, a hint of admiration in his voice. "And I think there's still so much you can achieve."

You feel a sense of pride at his words, and you find yourself leaning in closer to him. The space between the two of you feels electric, and you can't help but feel drawn to him in a way that surprises you.

As your eyes meet once again, you feel a connection between the two of you that goes beyond the student-teacher dynamic. You realize that there may be something between you and Dagan, something that you never expected to feel for anyone, let alone your mentor.

But before you can act on those thoughts, Dagan clears his throat, breaking the moment between the two of you. "We should probably call it a day," he says, his tone professional once again.

You feel a sense of disappointment at his words, but you know he's right. You nod, feeling a sense of awkwardness between the two of you that wasn't there before.

As you both walk towards the exit, you can't help but feel a sense of longing for something more. You realize that there may be an unspoken attraction between you and Dagan, and you're not sure how to handle it.

But as you leave the training room, you know that you'll continue to grow closer to Dagan, no matter how difficult it may be. You're willing to take the risk, willing to explore these newfound feelings, and willing to see where this may lead.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

You sit across from Santari in her study, surrounded by shelves of books and various Jedi artifacts. A pot of tea sits between the two of you, steam rising from its spout. You take a sip, savoring the warmth that spreads through your body.

"So, how is your training with Dagan going?" Santari asks, setting down her cup and leaning forward. "I hardly get the opportunity to see the two of you, but from what I hear, you're steadily gaining promise. I'm proud of you."

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you. Santari's praise means a great deal to you, and you're grateful for her guidance and support. But beneath the surface, you're struggling with a growing attraction to Knight Gera, and you know that such feelings are not allowed in the Jedi Order.

You try to push those thoughts aside and focus on the conversation at hand. "It's going well, thank you," you reply. "Knight Gera is an excellent teacher, and I feel like I'm learning a lot."

Santari nods, but you can sense a speculative look in her eyes. You worry that she might suspect your feelings for Dagan, despite your efforts to conceal them. You take another sip of tea, hoping to avoid any further questions.

But Santari surprises you by changing the subject. "I've been working on a new research project," she says, reaching for a datapad on her desk. "It's about the history of the Jedi Order and our connection to the Force."

You're grateful for the change of topic and listen attentively as she explains her research. You find yourself getting lost in her words, impressed by her knowledge and dedication to the Jedi Order. As she talks, you can feel your mind clearing, the worries about Dagan fading into the background.

Santari finishes her explanation and looks up at you. "What do you think?" she asks.

"I think it's fascinating," you reply honestly. "I've always been interested in the history of the Jedi Order, and your research sounds like it could shed some new light on it."

Santari smiles, pleased with your response. "I'm glad to hear it," she says. "I'd love to have your input as I continue my work. Perhaps we could discuss it further at a later time?"

You nod eagerly, feeling a sense of excitement at the idea of collaborating with Santari. As the conversation continues, you find yourself growing closer to her, feeling a deep sense of admiration and respect for the Jedi Master.

But as the meeting comes to an end, you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Your growing feelings for Dagan still linger in the back of your mind, and you know that such emotions are forbidden within the Jedi Order. You push those thoughts aside, determined to focus on your training and your duties as a Jedi. But deep down, you can't help but wonder if there's a way to reconcile your growing attraction to Dagan with your devotion to the Jedi Order.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

As you wander through the Jedi temple, your thoughts swirl around your training and the constant struggle to improve your skills. Your eyes glance towards the garden, where the stars shine brilliantly in the clear sky. You pause, taking in the beauty of the night sky before you notice Dagan sitting on a nearby bench, his gaze fixed on the stars above.

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to interrupt his peace, but before you can turn to leave, he senses your presence and calls out to you. You awkwardly make your way over and sit next to him, unsure of what to say.

"Recognize any of the constellations?" he asks, breaking the silence.

You admit that you know some, but not all. He chuckles, his silver eyes glinting in the moonlight. "For a book nerd, I expected more."

You huff in response, "Maybe you should tell me what book you're reading, and I'll be a better study."

Dagan turns to you, and you're momentarily lost in the way his eyes sparkle. "No books. Just immersion in the stars."

You realize that, as a Jedi Knight, he has likely had more adventures than you. You think back to your own childhood, where your Force sensitivity had saved you from a mundane village life. You had always dreamt of traversing the stars, but even now, you felt so far from that reality.

Lost in your thoughts, you look up and find Dagan studying you. Before you can comment, he turns his gaze back to the sky and points out a constellation you don't recognize. He names it and tells you more about it. "It shares a similar structure to one near my home planet. Not as beautiful, but admirable all the same."

He gazes at you from the corner of his eye, "I've found that even away from home, a few things share the same truth."

You catch his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You quickly turn away, trying to hide your blush. You realize that you're catching feelings too quickly, but you can't help but be drawn to him.

As the silence settles around you once more, you find yourself lost in thought, pondering the complexities of life as a Jedi. You're brought back to the present when Dagan speaks up, "You know, I hardly ever get to see you during training. But from what I've heard, you're making steady progress. I'm proud of you."

You feel a swell of pride and gratitude at his words, and a smile breaks across your face. "Thank you, Knight Gera."

He glances at you, "Call me Dagan. We're not so formal out here."

You nod, grateful for the opportunity to connect with him on a more personal level. You fall into easy conversation, discussing the intricacies of Jedi training and sharing stories from your past.

As the night wears on, you find yourself feeling more comfortable and open around him. You're drawn to the way he listens intently and shares pieces of himself with you.

As you stand to leave, Dagan turns to you with a glint in his eye, "Same time next week?"

You nod, a smile spreading across your face, "I'll be here."

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a warmth in your chest. You know that the Jedi Order frowns upon attachments, but you can't deny the budding interest you feel for Dagan. You know that it's a slippery slope, but for now, you revel in the feeling of connection and understanding that you share with him.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

As you approach the training grounds, you catch sight of Dagan. He stands tall and regal in his golden robes, a figure of authority and wisdom. His agenda has changed, and he nods for you to follow. You comply, intrigued by this sudden deviation from routine. Dagan leads you through winding roads and past familiar buildings until you are nearing the surrounding forest. Doubt creeps up on you, and your steps falter. Dagan notices and a quirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He seems to relish the moment, saying, "I wondered how long it would take you to question my actions."

You huff in response, refusing to be baited. "It’s not my place to question a Jedi Knight."

Dagan raises his brow in interest, finding your blind trust admirable. "Trust in my master, who trusts you," you amend.

Dagan shrugs, as if the two are one and the same. You can't help but agree, and your curiosity is now fully unleashed. You observe your surroundings more freely, taking in the familiar terrain of the path leading down from the Jedi temple. You know the right route to take, and the forest will only swallow you momentarily before opening up into the bustling market below. Younglings and Padawans rarely make the journey alone, but on occasion, Santari would take you on nature walks to get away from the pressures of the council. You can't come up with a feasible reason for Dagan, however. He doesn’t seem like the type to need company for a shopping trip.

The Kage humors your inquisitiveness, stating, "It has become apparent that mentors should not only bog down their apprentices with only training." He gestures to the stretching trees above, saying, "I thought some light meditation may be beneficial." He’s offering something outside of combat, which is not surprising, as mentors offer variety to avoid overwhelming their Padawans. But Dagan is not your master, and he is only instructed to oversee your training. This is an extra direction of his own will, and it reminds you of the moment you shared under the stars a few nights back.

"So you brought me out here to sit and think?" you ask, feeling a newfound confidence.

Dagan snorts at your newfound confidence, and you know that he is playfully mocking you. "I’m led to believe there is more for you to learn," he says.

You can't see his face, but you know that he is leading you through familiar steps and some that are not so familiar. The vegetation thickens, and the day’s warmth is beginning to seep into the morning. But underneath the canopy of treetops, the sun isn’t as palpable, making for a pleasant journey. Just when you were starting to question just how big the forests could be, you finally notice the inevitable thinning and the faint sound of running water.

As you approached the clearing, the air thickened with moisture, enveloping you in a warm embrace. The scent of the nearby river filled your lungs, infusing your senses with a refreshing coolness. The small pool of water in the center of the clearing caught your eye, clear and untouched by human hands, as if nature had created it as a secret sanctuary. It was a peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of the nearby markets, and you couldn't help but feel that you were closer to the temple than ever before.

Dagan's words resonated with you as he spoke, his voice low and soothing. The silence of the temple walls could be deafening at times, and the gentle sound of the water cascading over rocks was a welcome change. You found yourself nodding in agreement, lost in your own thoughts.

As Dagan lowered himself to the edge of the pool, you couldn't help but admire his grace and poise. His movements were deliberate and controlled, as if he had done this a thousand times before. His pale skin was illuminated by the sun, creating a halo of light around him that seemed almost ethereal. The kage truly were a vision of natural beauty, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe in their presence.

“I would be impressed that you are able to mediate standing, if your eyes weren't open.”

A sharp retort caught in your throat. You quickly fell to your knees, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up your legs, and tried to follow his lead. The sound of his laughter was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, the tension in your muscles easing at the sound.

“Just relax, little one. This is meant to be a reward. Enjoy it.”

As you closed your eyes, the sound of the running water filled your ears, a soothing melody that washed over you in gentle waves. The occasional chirp of a bird or rustle of leaves in the breeze served as a reminder that you were still connected to the natural world, even as you attempted to quiet your mind.

Opening one eye, you watched as Dagan remained completely at peace, his body still and calm. It was easy to get lost in his presence, to forget about the outside world and the troubles that came with it. A small part of you wondered if he had brought you here for his own selfish desires, but the majority of you found solace in the fact that he had taken the time to share this moment with you.

“I suppose, it was too much for me to ask you to manage a perfect mediation on your first time.”

Caught again, but this time you didn't shy away from his intense gaze. In turn, he seemed to admire the fact. Incentives, you pushed.

“I remember you promising a lesson? ‘More to learn.’”

As you spoke up about his promise of a lesson, his amusement filled the air once more, a deep and resonant sound that vibrated against your skin. You clumsily arranged yourself in a more comfortable position across from him, eager to learn and grow under his guidance.

“You have an interest in space travel, yes? But you’ve only travel from your planet here?”

As you nod in response to Dagan's question about your interest in space travel, memories of your first interplanetary journey flood your mind. The nerve-wracking experience had turned out to be the best time of your life, offering a glimpse of the opportunities that lay beyond the mundane routine of your village. The feeling was almost as exhilarating as the first time you discovered the Force. You knew that it would be years before you ascended to Jedi Knight status, but the prospect of more freedom kept you motivated.

“I was similar when I first left Quarzite.”

Dagan's words bring you back to the present, and you find yourself curious about his own journey. He speaks of his home planet, Quarzite, and the underground life that he had led. You can almost envision the caves speckled with crystals that glittered like stars, imagining the suffocating beauty of such a place. The Kage's pale complexion, a result of their subterranean cities, intrigues you, but you wonder if you could give up surface living for such a life. The high atmospheric pressure would likely have left the Kage with no other choice.

“Tell me about Quarzite.” 

If Dagan noticed it wasnt posed as a question that a Padawan should be asking rather than demanding, he made no note of it. Instead, he slipped easily into the inquiry. 

“It’s colder than here. Naturally, since most life thrives underground. Most of my life was spent in caves speckled with crystals that glittered like stars. It was suffocatingly beautiful but I’ve come to appreciate what the rest of the galaxy has to offer.”

You could relate to the feeling. Though not trapped underground, your village was stuck in a mundane routine that provided life but not much excitement. You were raised into your roles; an intricate design that kept the life cycle going. You wonder if the Force was a freeing to you as it was to him.

It seemed like too intimate of a question, so you deflected for something more neutral.

“Do you have a favorite planet?”

As Dagan speaks, you sense a deep yearning in him, a restlessness that no destination has yet satisfied. His travels, despite being numerous and decorated, seem almost methodical, as if he is searching for something that he has yet to find. His favorites, if he has any, remain elusive. You find yourself wondering if he, too, is seeking the same kind of freedom that the Force has brought you.

“You seem to enjoy them all, but they don’t seem like your favorite.”

His silver eyes briefly harden at your question, but they soften just as quickly, as if he has accepted your curiosity.

“I’m still looking for the perfect oasis. Coming from a planet plagued by war, it’s something of a childhood dream to find a place of promised peace.” He smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes if the lingering pain overseeded the optimism. 

Above, a cool breeze picked up and the clearing shadowed as a cloud blanketed the sun. Dagan frowned, coming to a quick unanimous decision. 

“It appears as though our meditation will need to be cut short. But I would call it a success. I hope the lesson was fruitful.”

As you pick yourself up, you find yourself in agreement with his assessment of the lesson's fruitfulness. Day by day, you feel as if you are unraveling the mystery of Dagan Gera.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

The morning sun rose over the lush forests of the Jedi temple, casting a warm glow over the towering trees and shimmering lakes. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers through the air as you made your way to the training grounds.

The oasis reprieve was days behind you now and it was time to return back to your duties. Even in his absence, it seemed as though everyday you were learning more about the Kage.

Dagan was a formidable duelist, but he was also an adventurer with a mind best suited to be intertwined with the never ending galaxies. Beneath his prestige, he was still a man and one with goals like any other. 

It seemed as though unintentionally, he was become somewhat of a distraction. Though fortunately, the root of it was not yet easily deciphered as Santari made her own assumptions.

Your master’s laughter echoed against your ears from the memory of her steering you away from the temple steps just an hour earlier. 

“Dagan needs to temper his patience. And you could learn to be a little more spontaneous.”

Her hands pressed against your shoulders encouragingly,” I look forward to witnessing both of your progress.”

And thus became yet another, session with the notorious Kage Jedi Knight. 

Dagan was waiting for you as usual, his silver-grey hair and piercing silver eyes shining in the morning light. The Kage Jedi Knight was always an imposing figure, standing tall and lean with the lithe grace of a predator. But as you approached, his lips turned in a way the eased the nerves to melt away.

"Good morning, little one," he said, his voice low and melodic. "Ready for our session?"

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips in response. Dagan had a way of making you feel at ease, even when the other Padawans made you doubt yourself. As you began their warm-up exercises, you couldn't help but admire the way he moved - so effortlessly, so fluidly.

But then Dagan turned to you, and his quirked lip made your chest thud in anticipation. "Now, let's see if you can keep up with me, little Padawan."

You sparred with your lightsabers, the sound of humming blades filling the air as you traded blows. Dagan was quick, too quick for you to keep up. But you focused on the Force, on the flow of energy around them, and found yourself anticipating his moves enough to remain on guard.

"Good, good," Dagan murmured, his eyes gleaming with approval. "You're starting to get it."

As you took a break, Dagan sat down next to you, and your body reacted to the contact of his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a flush of heat through you. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him; he was so close, so alluring.

"You know," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "If you were as good with a lightsaber as you are with literature, you'd best even me."

You laughed, a soft sound that had him humming in return. "I don't think that's possible."

He chuckled, and for a moment, you sat in companionable silence, watching the dappled sunlight filter through the leaves.

But then he turned to you, his gaze intense. "You know, you don't have to be the strongest warrior to be a great Jedi. Sometimes, it's the ones who struggle the most who end up shining the brightest."

You looked at him, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest. Dagan always knew how to say the right thing, to make you feel like you were worth something.

As you resumed their training, you found yourself lost in the moment, your mind and body focused on the task at hand. two of you sparred with your lightsabers, the sound of humming blades filled the air as you traded blows. Dagan was quick, too quick for you, and you found yourself struggling to keep up with his movements. But with each passing minute, you began to find your footing, channeling the Force to guide your movements and anticipate his attacks.

Then, in a moment of pure instinct, you lunged forward, your lightsaber barely missing Dagan's shoulder.

He stepped back, his eyes wide with surprise. And then, in a move that caught you completely off-guard, he side stepped and rotated around your form. You then felt his arm come across your shoulder with the butt his lightsaber pressed against the vulnerable part of your neck. 

For a moment, you stood there, caught in the trap of his side gaze. your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short gasps. Dagan was so close, you could feel the heat of his body, the soft brush of his breath against your cheek.

The moment was electric, but just as quickly as it had arrived, it was over. Dagan pulled away, clearing his throat and readjusting his posture. your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions that you didn't quite know how to process.

You looked up at Dagan, searching his face for any sign of what he was feeling. But as always, his expression was unreadable. He simply gave you a small nod and said, "Let's get back to training."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. You struggled to focus, your mind constantly wandering back to the moment with Dagan. you were acutely aware of his presence beside her, the heat of his body and the soft brush of his breath still lingering in your memory.

Dagan pushed you harder and harder, each swing of his lightsaber demanding your full attention and focus. You could feel the sweat beading on your forehead, your muscles straining with effort. But you didn't give up, driven by a determination to prove yourself to your master and your peers.

And as the session drew to a close, you were surprised to find yourself feeling invigorated, energized by the rush of adrenaline that coursed through your veins. You turned to Dagan, expecting to see a proud smile on his face, but instead, you saw a flicker of something else in his eyes.

It was a look that you couldn't quite place - a mix of admiration, respect, and... something else. Something that made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flutter with nervous excitement.

Dagan seemed to sense your unease, and he flashed you a reassuring smile. "You did well, little one," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "I see great potential in you."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, a sense of pride and accomplishment that made you stand a little taller. But beneath it all, there was something else - a sense of longing that you couldn't ignore.

Dagan was a Jedi Knight, and you a Padawan. The Order had strict rules against attachments, against giving in to the temptations of the flesh. And yet, you couldn't help the way you felt, the way his touch sends shivers down your spine and his voice made your heart race.

As the training drew to a close, Santari returned from her council meeting. You were relieved to see her, hoping that her presence would help to dispel the tension that had been building between you and Dagan.

But as Santari greeted them, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. You knew that you knew that the fledgling emotions that you held for Dagan that were inappropriate for a Jedi Padawan.  With a deep breath, you tried to push aside the conflicting emotions and focus on the task at hand. Santari had summoned you for a reason, and it was your duty to fulfill it. You exchanged a quick nod with Dagan, a silent agreement table the moment for another day.

As you left the training grounds, your thoughts were consumed by the memory of Dagan's touch and his gaze. You couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if Santari hadn't interrupted when she did, if you had given in to the impulses that stirred inside you.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

The night air was crisp as you stepped onto the training grounds, the hum of your lightsaber the only sound. The light of the blade pierces through the darkness as you practice your moves, hoping to drown out the feelings that have been consuming you. Lately, your thoughts had been consumed with Dagan. You had tried to meditate on it, to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping back in. You know that attachment is against the Jedi Code, and you have tried to meditate on it, but the thoughts keep creeping back in.

As you stood there, trying to focus on the hum of your lightsaber, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander. Lately, they had been consumed by Dagan, your Jedi Knight instructor. It wasn't just his stoic demeanor or his impressive combat skills that drew you to him. It was the way he spoke with such passion about his dreams and ambitions, and how his eyes seemed to light up whenever he gazed out at the stars.

But as much as you tried to meditate on these thoughts and let them pass, they continued to haunt you. You knew that attachment was forbidden in the Jedi Order, and you didn't want to risk losing everything you had worked so hard for. So you had thrown yourself into training, hoping that the hum of the lightsaber and the discipline of the combat drills would drown out the noise in your head.

You raised your lightsaber and began to move through the familiar forms, hoping the physical exertion would help clear your mind. But the more you moved, the more the thoughts swirled around you, like a swarm of insects. You were a Jedi, and you knew the dangers of attachment. The teachings of the Order were clear, and yet you couldn't help the way you felt.

As you moved through the forms, your mind kept wandering to Dagan. His strength and determination, the way his eyes sparkled with silver light when he talked about his dreams. You couldn't help but admire him, and you knew that admiration was turning into something more.

Your movements slowed as you realized that you were the root of the problem. It was your own feelings that were getting in the way of your training. You couldn't afford to let your emotions cloud your judgment, not when you were a Jedi in training. You lowered your lightsaber, feeling defeated.

That's when you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned to see Dagan making his way towards you, a small smile on his face. You tried to smile back, but your body became closed off, defensive.

Dagan's expression turned to concern. "What's wrong?"

You hesitated, not wanting to admit your weakness. But then you saw something in his eyes that made you feel safe. So you took a deep breath and confessed. "I...I can't focus. My thoughts keep getting in the way."

Dagan's frown deepened. "What thoughts?"

You hesitated, not wanting to admit your weakness. But then, something in his eyes made you feel safe. "I'm...I'm beginning to feel an attachment. And I know it goes against the Jedi Code, but I can't seem to stop it."

Dagan's eyes softened, and for a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope. "What if it's not such a one-sided thing?" he said quietly.

You looked up in surprise, and before you knew it, Dagan's hand was cupping your cheek. His touch was gentle, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your face. And then, without warning, his lips were on yours, and everything else fell away.

The kiss starts chaste, hesitance from both parties.

But then Dagan presses against you more, and the soft push of his tongue prods until your lower lip gives away. You feel soft and vulnerable, yet trusting and allowing for him to savor the taste of you.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the sensation of his embrace. You knew that this was wrong, that you were putting your training in jeopardy. But in that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care. The stars above seemed to twinkle in approval as you leaned into the kiss, feeling the weight of all your doubts and uncertainties melt away.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

As the days passed, your relationship with Dagan blossomed into something beautiful and captivating. Despite your attempts to keep it hidden from your fellow Jedi, small gestures of affection and tenderness would often slip out in moments of privacy.

Each passing day brought you closer to Dagan, and you found yourself growing more attached to him. His presence alone would make your heart flutter with excitement, and his touch would send a shiver down your spine. The sound of his voice was like music to your ears, soothing and reassuring you in times of stress and doubt.

You reveled in the stolen moments of intimacy: the subtle brushes of his hand against yours, the small kisses shared in secret, and the way his eyes lit up whenever he looked at you. It was as though you were living in a dream, a perfect world where nothing could go wrong.

Despite your growing attachment to Dagan, you knew that your relationship was strictly forbidden by the Jedi Code. The nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that what you were doing was wrong, but every time you were with Dagan, all thoughts of the Code would fade away, and you would be lost in the warmth of his embrace.

One day, after slipping away from Dagan, you ran into Santari. Her expression was stern and guarded, sending a chill down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over you, wondering what she may have seen or heard.

The happiness you felt earlier slipped away, replaced with a gnawing sense of fear and uncertainty. You knew that the consequences of your attachment to Dagan could be severe, and the thought of being torn away from him filled you with a deep sense of sorrow.

As you looked into your master's eyes, you could see that she knew what was going on between you and Dagan. Whether she would report you to the council or keep it to herself remained to be seen, but you knew that your fate was now in her hands.

The air around you felt heavy, suffocating, as she gestured for you to follow.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

You stand before Santari, your Jedi master, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. You have sensed that this conversation was coming, and now that it's finally here, you feel unprepared.

Santari's eyes, usually warm and comforting, are now piercing and scrutinizing as she looks at you. "Padawan," she begins, "I have noticed the growing closeness between you and Dagan. It's not something that can be easily hidden from someone who has been trained to read the Force."

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words to respond. "Master Khri, I..."

But she interrupts you. "I know that you care for him deeply," she says, her tone softening. "But as a Padawan on the path to becoming a Jedi Knight, you must consider the consequences of your actions."

She pauses for a moment, and you can see the concern etched on her face. "I put too much trust in Dagan to know when to stop," she continues. "I did not consider the fact that his feelings for you could cloud his judgment. And now, I fear that you both may be putting your personal desires ahead of the Jedi Order."

You feel a pang of guilt at her words. You have been struggling with the same thoughts, wondering if your attachment to Dagan is getting in the way of your duties as a Padawan.

"I know that you have feelings for him," Santari says, "but you have to understand that your role as a Jedi Knight comes with responsibilities that require you to put the greater good above your personal desires. You cannot allow yourself to be distracted by attachment."

You nod, feeling the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I understand, master," you say softly. "I know that the Jedi Order forbids attachment for a reason."

Santari nods, her eyes softening once more. "I only want what's best for both of you," she says. "I don't want to lose two of the important people in my life."

You can see the genuine care and concern in her eyes, and it brings a sense of comfort to your heart. "I will do my best to uphold the Jedi Code," you say, determination in your voice.

Santari smiles, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "I have no doubt that you will," she says. "Remember, the path of a Jedi is not an easy one. But with discipline and focus, you can overcome any obstacle."

You bow respectfully, feeling a sense of renewed purpose. "Thank you, Master Khri," you say, "for your guidance and wisdom."

As you leave her presence, you feel a sense of clarity and purpose wash over you. You know that the road ahead will be difficult, but with the teachings of the Jedi Order and the guidance of your master, you feel confident that you can navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

You try to avoid Dagan's presence as much as possible after the discussion with Santari. It wasn't easy, considering how close the two of you had become, but you knew it was for the best. You didn't want to be the cause of his downfall or yours, for that matter. You kept your distance, avoided his gaze, and tried not to let your eyes wander towards him when you were in the same room. But it was only a matter of time before he noticed your distance.

It started with small attempts to talk to you, to ask how you were doing, but you always found an excuse to leave or to avoid the conversation altogether. It wasn't long before he started cornering you, trying to find out what was wrong. You couldn't keep up the act forever, and eventually, you found yourself in a secluded corner of one of the gardens, with Dagan standing in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest, a look of frustration on his face.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voice firm but not angry.

You tried to deflect his question, "I'm not avoiding you, Dagan. I've just been busy with my training."

"You've been avoiding me for weeks," he said, his voice rising slightly in frustration. "I know you, and something's not right. You can't keep pushing me away like this."

You took a deep breath, "Dagan, it's not you. It's me. I can't do this anymore."

"Do what? What are you talking about?"

"This... us," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "I can't keep pretending that everything's okay, that we're just friends, that there's nothing more between us. We both know there is, but we can't act on it. Not as Jedi."

Dagan's expression softened, and he took a step closer to you. "I know what you mean, but we can't ignore our feelings either. We can't pretend they don't exist."

"But we have to," you said, feeling the weight of the Jedi Code on your shoulders. "We're not supposed to have attachments. It only leads to distraction and pain."

"That's not true," Dagan argued, his voice passionate. "Attachment can give us strength, it can give us something to fight for. You and I, we have something special. We can't just ignore that."

"You know the rules, Dagan," you said, feeling the frustration rise in your chest. "We can't risk our positions as Jedi. We have to focus on our training and our duty to the Order."

"But at what cost?" Dagan asked, his voice softening. "Do we have to sacrifice our happiness for the sake of the Jedi Code? Is that what it means to be a Jedi?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. You knew he had a point, but you couldn't ignore the warnings of your master. You took a deep breath and looked away from Dagan, not wanting to face the conflict in his eyes.

"Dagan, I don't know what to do," you admitted, feeling the weight of the decision on your shoulders. "I don't want to lose you, but I don't want to put your future in jeopardy either. I don't want to lose my chance at becoming a Jedi Knight."

Dagan sighed, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you pulled away, feeling the weight of your doubts weighing on your shoulders. "I understand," he said, his voice low. But his tone holds the burden of the opposite. 

"I know," you said, feeling the heaviness of the situation bear down on you. "I wish things were different.” Truly… You had spent too many nights already experiences a different reality with Dagan in your dreams.

Dagan's face softens, and he lets out a sigh. "We’ll… figure this out. But please, don't push me away. "

"There is nothing to figure out," you reply softly. "It’s best if we maintain what we have as friends. We are that still… right?,: you whisper, fear bubbling back up.

Dagan takes a step closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours. "Of course. You know I harbor that much for you and even more. So let us fight for it. Together."

You feel your resolve falter at his words, your heart yearning to believe him. But you know it's not that simple, the Jedi code is clear on the matter of attachments.

"We can't do that, Dagan," you whisper, taking a step back. "It's not just about the code, it's about the danger of distractions. We have a duty to the Jedi order and the galaxy, and we can't let our feelings interfere with that."

Dagan's expression hardens, his frustration mounting. "Is that all I am to you? A distraction?"

"No, of course not," you reply quickly, regretting your words. "But our feelings for each other could cloud our judgment, and that's not something we can risk."

Dagan stares at you for a long moment, his eyes flickering with emotions you can't decipher. "Fine," he says finally, his voice strained. "If that's how you feel, then so be it. But don't expect me to just sit idly by and watch you slip away from me."

With that, he turns on his heel and stalks away, leaving you alone in the garden with the weight of his words heavy on your heart.

You stand there for a long while, watching the sunset bleed across the sky, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. The garden is peaceful, yet you can't shake the turmoil inside of you. You want to be with Dagan, but you know it's not that simple. You have a duty to the Jedi order, and your responsibilities as a Padawan far outweigh your desires.

As the stars begin to twinkle overhead, you take a deep breath and steel yourself for the road ahead. The journey to becoming a Jedi knight is fraught with challenges, but you know that this is just another test on your path. You'll do what's right, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

You throw yourself into your training, finding solace in the routine of it all. Santari gives you extra tasks and meditation techniques to improve your connection with the Force, and you take them on eagerly. You find that the more you focus on your training, the easier it is to push thoughts of Dagan to the back of your mind.

But even as you immerse yourself in your training, you can't help but notice Dagan's absence. It's not just the fact that you miss him, but there's a part of you that wonders if he's avoiding you. You try not to dwell on it too much, but it's hard to ignore the emptiness in your heart.

Santari seems to sense your struggles, and one day she sits with you in the gardens, her eyes full of concern. "You know, Padawan," she says softly, "it's okay to feel hurt. Love can be a beautiful thing, but it can also be a painful thing. You have to learn to navigate those waters carefully."

You look at her, taking in the soft lines on her face and the way her eyes seem to see into your very soul. "But how do I know what's right?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

She smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "That's something you have to discover for yourself. But always remember that the Jedi way is one of balance. You must learn to balance your emotions with your duty as a Jedi."

You take her words to heart, and you begin to try and find that balance. You throw yourself into your studies and training, but you also take time to reflect on your feelings and what you truly want.

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

As the weeks pass, you start to feel more centered. You're still dispirited about Dagan, but you've come to accept that the path forward is more stable. You're content to focus on your training and the journey that lies ahead of you.

You sit quietly in Santari's office, listening to her words as she instructs you on your next task. It's been another few weeks since you last saw Dagan, and months counting, and you're starting to feel the lingering strain of his absence. It's growing beyond mournful to concern as you consider the welfare of the Jedi knight. You try not to dwell on it, focusing instead on your training and the instruction given to you by Santari. But it's hard, and the ache in your chest persists.

As you listen to Santari, the door to her office suddenly opens, and in walks Dagan. You're surprised and caught off guard by his sudden appearance, but you can't help but admire the beauty that still clings to him outside your memory. He catches your gaze and gives you a small, quirked smile before turning to Santari.

"I have news."

Dagan begins to speak, telling Santari how he's been meeting with the council and has been given the duty of traversing the galaxy to discover new planets to house the order away from the empire's reach. 

Everyday, the empire dawns closer and Jedi are forced to fight for their shores as their current known bases are no secret to the empire. Both Santari and Dagan has before expressed their interest in exploring new planets for the order to expand upon, but the opportunity was weighted by the burden of resources needed when they were better served towards defenses. 

But it seems as though Dagan has found away around the council's hesitance as he leans forwards, palms braced against the back of the chair. 

"We've discovered a galaxy outside of the empire's reach. It's outskirts edge the unknown with plenty of planets left undiscovered." His excitement bleeds into your senses, radiating from the palpable effort he must have put into this venture over the last few months. 

You're reminded of a time that Santari confident in you when she admitted to not liking Dagan. She feared the stonic nature of the war-driven Kage, but later noted his somberness as he redirected his goals towards creating a new source for the peace he fought for. Overtime, their visions aligned and from it came understanding and later friendship. 

"We have narrowed down a few options, but the council has tasked me with creating a team to assist in the search."

He thus he asks for Santari's support, knowing that her aspirations would be a leading favor. However, her responsibilities sober the initial ardor. Settingly back in her seat, she reaches for her data-pad idly. You're reminded of the objectives she had set for herself while delegating her own. 

"I ... cannot leave my post right now, Dagan. You know I support your efforts, but my role is best suited here." Your master has the best control over emotions bleeding than anyone you know, but for a moment, even you can feel the palpable disappointment. 

You can't help but feel like you're invading a privacy suited for a friendship that had aged longer than your connection to either of them. But before you could attempt to step away, Dagan brought you to pause with a hand.

You can't help but tremble at the warmth of his hand enclosed around your wrist as he maintain eye contact with your master while offering an alternative: a request for you to join him on his journey instead.

He explains that he brought it up with the council to use this as an opportunity to prepare you for the trials. You're shocked and can't believe what you're hearing. Santari narrows her eyes suspiciously, and you can tell her opinion teetering with the new information brought before her. 

She regards Dagan quietly, and they have a stare-down, each one sizing up the other. Eventually, she asks him if he believes he's in the best position to protect you. The implication is two fold to encompass both physically and from the wrath of the order. Dagan steps closer to her, his confidence palpable as he replies with a resounding "Yes."

Santari is quiet for a moment longer before sighing. Her gaze drifts to you and down to the grasp Dagan has yet to let go. 

"With the council's approval, there is not much more I can do, I suppose." You can't help but feel a bit uneasy, knowing that as your master, she has the final say in the matter and could deny it if she wanted to. But she's not, and you know that she's allowing this to happen.

She turns to you and says, "This is an opportunity for you to prove your maturity, Padawan. Do you believe in yourself?" Dagan turns to you, hope shining in his eyes, and you can feel the desperation emanating from him through your Force sense.

This wasn't just a trial to lay the foundation of your step towards ascension, but the framework that would design your path as Jedi.

And with this decision, you would be accepting the fate of not stepping alone.

You nod, your resolve solidifying. "Yes, Master," you reply, your voice steady and determined.

Dagan grip flexes and you feel a sense of relief and joy wash over you. You can't believe that you're going on this journey with him, but at the same time, you're nervous and unsure of what lies ahead. You know that the trials will be difficult, but you also know that you have to trust in yourself and in Dagan.

Before the Kage could pull you away, Santari asks for a private conversation with Dagam and urges you to begin readying yourself by closing up any lingering tasks. 

Obedietny you depart with a hesitate on Dagan part to let go, however, you find that you couldn't distance yourself further than the garden. Too much had transpired in a short amount of time for you to focus on anything other than what they could possibly be discussing without you. 

You had suspected that Santari had a similar discussion with Dagan at some point before the months had distanced you all, which only made you more anxious about what more this new discovery had prompted. 

▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▁▂.

You found yourself pacing back and forth along the garden path, your mind racing with all sorts of possibilities. 

It was true that Santari had given her acceptance, but that had been towards your newly appointed role, not necessarily the severed but still visibly prominent connection that persisted between you and Dagan. 

Would you be in for a separate conversation later detailing her expectations?

At last, Dagan emerged from the office, looking more relieved than you appeared. He practically dragged you away from the garden, leading you towards a secluded cove where you could speak without interruption.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long," Dagan said, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "But it's good news, I promise."

You hugged him back, though the source of anxiousness remained . "What ... did she say?"

Dagan pulled away slightly, looking at you with a serious expression. "Santari has indeed given me permission to include you on my exploration team."

You felt your heart skip a beat. It was everything you had ever dreamed of – the chance to travel the stars, to discover new worlds and new experiences. But at the same time, the reality of leaving everything you knew behind, of embarking on such a dangerous and uncertain journey, was overwhelming.

Not to mention the present dilemma he was still edging around.

"Dagan, are you sure this is a good idea?" you asked hesitantly. "Did Master Santari have any ... doubts?"

Dagan took your hand, looking at you with a gentle smile. "She voiced her concern," he said softly. "But I assured her that I was capable of mitigating the responsibly. We have the ability to carve a new space—a better home. A place where we wont have to hide."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. You knew that he truly believed in this, that he was passionate about exploring the unknown and achieving his goals.

"I'll go with you," you said finally, feeling a rush of excitement and fear at the same time. "But we have to be careful. We can't just rush into this blindly."

You were speaking both on the journey and the fragile future ahead.

Dagan nodded, his expression serious. "I understand," he said. "And I promise you, we'll be mindful. I won't let his opportunity escape."

He pulled you close once more, kissing you deeply. You felt a surge of desire flood back in after weeks of absence as his lips met yours, feeling a sense of completeness that you had never known before.

"I care for you," he whispered against your lips. "And I promise you, no matter what happens, I will always be here for you."

You smiled, feeling of warmth and happiness flooded through you.

And so, the two of you began to plan, to prepare for the journey ahead. You spent weeks researching and gathering information, studying maps and charts, and gathering supplies and equipment. You met with scientists and experts, learning everything you could about the planets and stars that lay ahead.

As the day of departure drew near, you felt a sense of nervous excitement, a sense of anticipation that bordered on fear. But through it all, Dagan was there, his steady presence and unwavering determination giving you strength and courage.

And then, at last, the day arrived. You stood on the launch pad, watching as the ship that would carry you to the stars was fueled and prepared. You felt a sense of awe and wonder of the future paved ahead.

[bluepeachstudios]

What's one thing about GITS that nobody has noticed/asked about that you really want to talk about?

There's a whole meta thing going on with Ghost in the Shell that people have pointed out before, but Ghost is very much not part of that dimension. This shows in his more desaturated colors, in the way he acts, in the way he gets startled about stuff that logically in his universe makes no sense but in Riseverse it does.

Rat flu. He crops it up to everyone being dramatic about being sick. He's like "this cannot honestly be a real sickness". But in Rise, it is! So he's confused af.

The boys' disguises barely hide them. Ghost and his bros had to wrap themselves up so no part of them was showing, and RAPH can go out in some basketball shorts and a jersey and cap and no one questions him. This wilds Ghost out.

The kids can get really hard! LIKE RIDICULOUSLY SO!! Even the mutants can get hit by stuff that should have killed them, and they're fine!

The action figure stuck in the tea kettle.

It's very much a Rise-verse trait for people to not notice something that obvious. "Convenient Plot Device".

Ghost is from another universe where that logic wouldn't make sense. He's paranoid, and observant, and inquisitive.

So why did Ghost never notice the action figure in the tea kettle?

[mablikethequeen]

How Auguste Gave Laurent ‘The Talk'

The best thing about an Augustelives!verse where the Regent never existed is that young Laurent gets to learn about sex in a normal way

CW: 'the talk', discussion of consensual sex, coming out? kinda, mention of Hennike's repeated pregnancy loss. The whole thing is just Auguste being a good brother

Read on AO3 (rated T, 2k words)

“What’s a consummation?”

Startled, Auguste looked up from his work, the endless papers scattered in piles on the table before him.

Laurent stood at the other end of the table, reading from one of the pages. It was a drafted schedule for Auguste’s wedding celebration, one of the countless items he had worked on with the council to prepare for the days ahead.

“It’s part of the wedding ceremony,” Auguste said, trying to keep the response light and easy, hoping Laurent didn’t pry further. He continued his letter writing, his pen scratching across the page.

Laurent didn’t let him off easy. “I’m not invited to it.” It was not a question.

Auguste paused his writing mid-sentence. His brother was young still, and sweetly innocent. Auguste would not initiate a conversation he was not ready for. “It's for the adult guests only.”

Laurent’s brow furrowed. Auguste could sense an internal debate being endured— there was something else.

“Is that because there will be fucking?” asked Laurent.

"What?" He nearly dropped his pen. “Where did you hear that?”

Laurent stood straighter, flush rising in his cheeks. “The councilors told me.”

Auguste raised his eyebrows.

Laurent quickly caved: “I overheard them talking about it," he said, which meant that he had been sitting outside of the council room door for the entire meeting. Again.

"Laurent--" Auguste sighed, pressing the pads of his fingertips to his eyes. It wasn't the first time Laurent had overheard something he was not supposed to hear, especially during meetings of state. The council members tended to use colorful vocabulary amongst each other, resulting in occasional slips that were overheard by his brother's innocent ears. With Auguste's impending wedding, the topics of conversation at this week's council meeting had strayed into the business of the marriage bed. He should have expected Laurent to overhear, should have prepared something to say.

"It's not--" Auguste started, but he stopped and tried again. “‘Fucking' isn't a polite term to use.” It came out sterner than he intended.

The tips of Laurent's ears flushed pink, the color slowly spreading across his cheeks. "Sorry," he said, dipping his chin.

Auguste sighed, softening. "Do you know what it means?"

Laurent's flush deepened, as it always did when he was asked something he did not know. It didn’t happen often.

Auguste surveyed his little brother across the far end of the table, really seeing him, as was so easy to overlook in everyday life. Laurent was almost a young man now.  He was sharp, inquisitive. He studied whatever texts and maps and treaties he could get his hands on. But, like all scholars, he was limited to the contents of the library in which he dwelled, in this case, the royal library in Arles. Someone needed to tell him about the ways of the world, the things that he could not research in books. Both of their parents were gone now, and with startling realization, he recognized that the responsibility fell to him.

Auguste pushed out the chair adjacent to him, where his most trusted advisor would sit if this was a council meeting.

Laurent had joined him at this table countless times before, the act comfortable to them both, but today he approached tentatively, his posture rigid. He sat.

Auguste peered at Laurent’s downcast face. Was he—shy? Perhaps he had already been too harsh. Pity welled within him, deep in his stomach. “You're not in trouble," Auguste said.

Laurent sat very still, avoiding his gaze. They sat for a moment in tense silence.

Finally, Auguste said, "Tell me what you’ve heard.” He knew Laurent would be honest with him. Even if his cheeks colored and he stumbled to find the words, he would tell the truth.

“They said you would…” Laurent paused. “That the marriage,” he continued, “would be consummated after the ceremony. And that the council would witness it.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Auguste said.

Laurent held his gaze. “I looked up consummation in the dictionary.”  His expression changed, his brow furrowing. "It doesn't-- I don't get it."

Auguste pursed his lips; his tongue felt like sand in his mouth. “Have you read about sex before?”

Laurent gave the slightest shake of his head. His cheeks darkened further.

“It’s hard to… It isn’t…” Auguste felt the heat start to spread across his own face. He might actually catch fire any second now.

Laurent sat very still and straight on the edge of his chair. He waited.

Auguste rubbed his weary forehead. It was during moments like these that he missed their parents the most. “I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with you tonight,” he admitted, releasing a half-formed laugh.

Laurent didn't waver.

Auguste felt sweat beginning to prickle the back of his neck. He hoped no one was around to hear this, for both his and Laurent’s sake. “When two people love each other very much,” he started, but that made him cringe. He cleared his throat. “When people,” he started again, “wish to be physically intimate, and it’s what they both want, they can choose to have sex. Erm, with each other,” he finished awkwardly. He actually wanted to catch fire now.

Laurent was still looking at him inquisitively.

“Those people can use their genitals, and, uh, put them together,” Auguste swallowed thickly. He could tell Laurent was trying to compose a neutral expression, trying and failing to hide his disgust. “During a consummation, that’s what the council needs to witness.” Auguste scratched at his sweat-dampened temple.

“Do you really have to?” Laurent asked.

“In front of the council?” Auguste asked. Consummations were voyeuristic in nature, yes, but it was tradition. He didn’t think about it too much.

“No,” said Laurent quickly, shaking his head. “Do you have to do.. uh.. it.”

Auguste examined his brother’s face carefully. “You mean if I have to have sex?”

Laurent paused, but slowly he nodded, his eyes round and blue. 

Auguste knew his brother was a very green innocent, as he had intentionally kept him so, especially after their parents were gone. The burden of raising Laurent himself was a heavy weight to bear, but it was one he bore with great sincerity. As far as he knew, Laurent was still unaware of the functional purpose of pets, what happened at late-night arena shows, and the business of the brothels in town. Even now, the young man sitting before him may not understand the full implications of what he was asking, but Auguste wouldn’t lie to him.

“Yes,” he said, carefully. "I do."

Laurent’s face scrunched in his distaste. “But do you want to have sex?”

“Well, um, yes,” Auguste replied, stumbling, unable to contain his blush. “But that’s okay. I want to have sex with her, as she does with me.”

Now Laurent just looked alarmed.

Auguste’s mind reeled as he tried to explain this in a way that made sense to a naïve mind. “It’s, uh, generally thought of as a pleasant thing to do.”

“Oh,” said Laurent. This was news to him. His brow was still furrowed, his eyes cast to the table in thought.

Auguste softened, wishing he had prepared for this moment. His own feelings of inadequacy as a stand-in parent loomed over his head. “A lot of people have sex regularly. It’s normal. And fun, even. For a wedding, the council observes the first time to make sure the marriage is properly consummated.”

“Why?”

“It validates the union. And in this case, to make sure the heirs are the king’s.” Auguste had carefully avoided an extra-marital pregnancy for years, which was especially forbidden for the Crown Prince of Vere. He had not yet adjusted to the idea of pregnancy being desirable. It was strange for him to think about, even now, days away from the wedding.

Laurent’s expression opened up at the mention of heirs, as if he hadn’t connected babies with sex until just now. More questions formed. Auguste prepared himself.

“You're going to make an heir in front of the council?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” said Auguste.  “I'd like to, but it may take a while."

"How, exactly? Why does it take a long time? Could it take all night?"

Auguste wondered if he looked as sweaty as he felt. "No, I mean..." he waited for the words to come. They didn't.

Laurent waited patiently.

Auguste cleared his throat. “When a penis is put in a vagina during sex, and at the end there’s…” he didn’t finish that sentence. Too much for today, perhaps. Thankfully, Laurent didn’t ask, so he didn’t elaborate. “Sometimes, a few weeks later, a pregnancy will take, and eventually a baby is born.”

"Sometimes," Laurent echoed.

“The right, uh, parts have to be present during sex for a pregnancy to happen. And even then, it doesn't always happen right away. Sometimes you have to have sex many times over many months to conceive a baby. You took years for Mom and Dad—” he stopped abruptly.

Perhaps this was too far. 

But Laurent perked up at the mention of their parents. “Mom and Dad?”

Auguste remembered his mother, the pregnancies, the life that drained from her with each passing loss. The joy when, finally, a second son was born. He remembered, even though he was only a boy at the time. Carefully, he said: “You were very wanted.”

Laurent seemed somewhat satisfied with this answer. He mulled it over, deep in thought. Auguste saw another question coming before Laurent spoke.

“What if,” Laurent started to ask, but he lost his confidence halfway through, and went silent again.

“Go on.”

Laurent spoke slowly, each word carefully selected. “What if the sex doesn't have the right parts for pregnancy? What if two men...?”

Auguste felt a knot in his chest. They had danced around the conversation of Laurent’s tastes for months, but it never quite came about. He wanted Laurent to realize for himself what he wanted, and to trust him with the information, knowing either of those could take a long time. They had come close to speaking of it only once, when Auguste caught Laurent lingering around the soldiers’ training arena, nervously saying he was there to study, the book in front of him unopened. At the time, Auguste hadn’t pried.

“That’s okay too, although there would be no heirs. But many people prefer to have sex that way.”

Laurent thought about this.

“Does everyone have a consummation when they get married?” Laurent asked.

“It's traditional in noble families,” said Auguste.

"Will I?"

“Only if you want one. You get the final say.”

Laurent pressed a crumb into the table with his index finger. It crackled against the wood. “I think I’d like to marry a man, one day.”

Auguste's heart bloomed with warmth, bursting outwards with brotherly affection, watching his brother grow up. It sparked the flame of protectiveness within him, the same that had been burning ever since Laurent was left within his care. He would do anything for his little brother, to make sure he got the life that he wanted, to provide for him in all the ways their parents would now never be able to.

“Then you shall,” Auguste said, more of a promise than anything else.

Laurent smiled at him like he was his entire world. The tips of his ears were still pink, but his shoulders began to relax. “I’m glad I don’t have to go to your consummation.”

Auguste laughed, genuinely. “I’m glad you don’t either.” The pressure eased a bit from his broad shoulders.

Auguste felt like Laurent was growing up too fast, that they were running out of time. His baby brother wasn’t a baby anymore. “One day, when you’re ready, you can decide to have sex with someone, if you’d like.”

Laurent scrunched his nose, a half-hearted expression that Auguste saw right through. The day would come, was coming, when someone would catch Laurent’s eye. No matter how long it took, Auguste would never be ready for it. He felt a knot rise in his throat, and with it the impulse to beg Laurent to stay little forever.

Instead, he said: “You should love him, whoever he is. I have no doubt you will choose someone worthy of you.”

Laurent nodded sincerely. “I will.” And he would, for no other reason than to honor his brother’s advice.

Auguste knew his words would not be wasted. He paused for a moment, allowing Laurent to ask additional questions if he had them, but none came. Auguste sat forward in his chair again, picking up his pen.

“I have a few more letters to get through, if you want to stay,” he offered. He knew Laurent's favorite way to spend an evening was at his side, answering letters, trying to run their country, together.

Laurent nodded eagerly, sitting forward as well. He picked up the next letter in the stack, broke the seal, and began to read.

[crosaidi]

Dragon Age verse notes:

Grey Warden, originally from the Free Marches. Half-elven ( dalish on his father's side ), but was raised by his mother alone. He knows his heritage, but isn't particularly open about it and since in Thedas the human traits run stronger than the elvish ones, he doesn't look it outwardly. But he is more empathetic than most to the treatment of elves and doesn't tolerate mistreatment.

Joined the Wardens during the rise of the fifth Blight. He was not at Ostagar — he was traveling there when word was raised — but was at the Battle of Denerim. Not against the archdemon, but on the streets and with the rest of the soldiers and fighters.

Was not involved in the dealings with Kirkwall, but of course knew of them. He spent a good amount of time in the wilds purging whatever darkspawn he could find.

The false Calling came with the rip in the sky. He felt it too, because how could he not? He stuck by the word of those he trusted ( Stroud or Alistair, depending ) and didn't follow the rest to the Western Approach and Adamant.

He can join the Inquisition through a mission where a farmland has had a rift open on top of it and he's holding off the demons to get the survivors clear.

[abracadabruhs]

josh dallas, gay, trans male + he/him → isn’t that arthur asmodeus caliburn? i’ve seen them hanging out with the counselors. i hear they’re 33, but they’ve been been coming to camp for 13 years. they seem to be studious & inquisitive, but also aloof & dismissive. it’s cool that they’re capable of astral projection, divination, healing, & telekinesis! their aesthetics are also spell books lifting off the ground, cycles of magic in a circle, gilded iron mirror used for scrying. | written by ian 

name: arthur asmodeus caliburn nicknames: arty, ass (affectionate) date of birth: February 14, 1994 age: thirty-three face claim: josh dallas height: 6ft 1 dominant hand: ambidextrous occupation: camp counselor.

basic powers: spellcasting, potion making, scrying, mediumship, advanced powers: astral projection, divination, healing, & telekinesis

parents: unknown mother (deceased), unknown father (deceased)

astrological sign: aquarius sun sign, aries moon sign, sag rising sign positive traits: Attentive, Curious, Focused. Studious. Inquisitive. negative traits: Aloof, Dismissive, Closed Off, Mysterious, Focused. quirks: Enjoys when a spell requires a glass of wine. (might have been added to the spell by him in the first place.) pet peeves: people who interrupt others, impulsivity, callousness.

sexual orientation: gay, but you never know~ 😉 sexual position: verse

clothing style: A lot of casual wear for a camp conselour, slacks, ties, and long sleeve dress shirts. prominent features: fan fiction blue eyes, can occasionally have facial hair, assinspirations: john henry moore (ahs), magnus (shadow hunters), ambrose (caos), zoe (ahs).

biography, if you'd like: s o o n .

Was taken from his coven at a young age.

Lived life not knowing he had these abilities until he had a mysterious accident.

Ran away and has been hiding from people for years, only researching tiny tidbits of magic he could get his hands on.

Attempts to find the camp and maybe finds something more??

Finally locates Caldron Bubble and decides to stay and help cultivate others talents and make lasting bonds with both the counselors and campers.

extras:

[ausetkmt]

https://x.com/Joe__Bassey/status/1701860296493547847?t=z8gLfv41GiIWPQq83c58Ng&s=09

Image: a Moor on sale after the beginning of their fall in Spain. The last expelled Moor was in 1492 CE

THE 'CHURCH' WAS THE DRIVING FORCE OF TRANS-ATLANTIC SLAVE TRADE AS MUCH AS ISLAM WAS AT THE HEART OF ARAB SLAVE TRADE

IN 1455 CE, Pope Nicholas V. wrote a Roman bull(romanus pontifex) declaring that all Moors, Saracens and all non-christian blacks were to be sentenced to perpetual slavery and Charged as heretics during the early stages of the 'Inquisitions'. By 1492 CE, the Moors (African Maghrebs and some Arabs) surrendered their castles in Iberian peninsula with Spain claiming most of the Moorish territories and persons of black-skin became the 'property' of Spain. Some escaped back to Africa.

In 1493 CE, another declaration was made by Pope Alexander VI(inter caetera), known as 'doctrine of discovery' which gave rise to the idea of 'discovery' as a concept in Europe. What followed this was noted by Karl Marx thus; "what was good for the europeans was obtained on the expense of untold suffering by the Africans and American Indians... the discovery of gold in the America, the extra patient enslavement and the entombment of the minds of the aboriginal population... the turning of Africa into a commercial warrant for the hunting of black skins, signaled the rosy dawn of the capitalist production". Little wonder, Rev. Richard Furman, President of the S. Carolina Baptist convention in 1823 CE, stated that, " the right of holding slaves is clearly established in the holy scriptures, both by precepts and by example ". He was a slave owner. "I draw my warrant from the Scripture of the old and new testaments to hold slaves in bondage" -Rev. Thomas Witherspoon of the Presbyterian church of Alabama, in a letter to 'the emancipator' in 1839 CE. These 'justifications' were stated by many churchmen and women, drawing from the Judeo-Christian Bible.

The revered book of the Mohammedans, the Qur'an, which was written in the 8th/9th century CE, by those who took over from the Nabataean, also indicated in many verses that slavery was 'just'. But in this case, it was often Stated that the followers of the Islamic ideology were to by loving and gentle among themselves but to "fight them[non-followers of the ideology] and allah will punish him by your hands" (Quran 9:14, 15) and that "allah will strike terror unto the unbelievers(Q. 8:60)... and until they pay gizya(Q. 9:29). 'Gizya' was supposed to be an Islamic tax, targeted at the non-followers of the ideology, even if they are not enslaved but if their lands are taken over by followers of the Islamic ideology.

Following several injunctions in the Arabian Quran, the Mohammedans in Iberia had sought to control the situation: "anyone who is known to be from those lands which are known to be lands of Islam should be let go and should be adjudged free. This is the ruling of the jurist of Andalusia "-( Al Umari, 14th cen. Arab historian. But for all else, slavery was allowed.

This was the ugly web that Africa was caught in, in the 7th cen. CE and the 15th cen. CE. And in this way, many Africans became Mohammedans for convenience, especially the Garamantes(an ancient black skinned people with kinky hair), of north Africa, who joined forces with the Islamizing Arabs, whom together went in and took over Iberia in 711CE.

According to Dr. Josef Ben Jochannan, " Africa took-in both the hook, the line and sinker" and that had stretched to this very day. Africans born into this just 'follow the followers', sometimes, even somewhat blindfolded.

[setaripendragon]

Trying to organize my ask notebook better since I've run out of space under general fandom asks and I would like to know what fandoms you are in so I can ask the correct people about the correct fandoms.

I think my main ones are Bagginshield/The Hobbit, Sherlock/Johnlock, Dragon Age Inquisition, {Pippin/Faramir Merry/Eowyn}/The Lord of the Rings and I dip my toes in a few that I currently can't remember but ones I don't engage in canon at all are Good Omens but only for Crowley/Azirapheal ship, Stranger Things but only for Steve/Eddie ship, The Witcher but only for Geralt/Jaskier things and Ladybug and Cat Noir but only for Adrinette .

Also do you like getting asks that are or include story ideas or snippets?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer within a certain amount of time or at all.

Ooh, I am in so many fandoms XD It wouldn't actually be easier to list the ones I'm not in, but sometimes it feels that way.

Definitely there with you on The Hobbit and Bagginshield and Lord of the Rings and that whole 'verse, and I'm all in on the Good Omens and The Witcher (well, all in on most of the fandom, I've read some of one of the books, played some of one of the games, watched some of one of the shows... XD).

I also enjoy me some Sherlock, but my preferred flavour is Elementary, rather than BBC.

At the moment my main fandoms are One Piece (catching up with the anime atm, it's taking a while XD), Supernatural, and Star Wars (pretty much entirely second hand, except for the Kenobi show and recently being bullied into watching the Mandalorian with a friend =P).

Okay, I'm going to try and be concise now because otherwise we'll be here all day. Here are fandoms that I've written stuff for (published or not): A Song of Ice and Fire, Alice in Wonerland, Assassin's Creed, Avatar the Last Airbender, Black Butler, Bleach, James Bond, Charmed, Criminal Minds, Critical Role, Emperor's Edge, Fairy Tail, Firefly, Frozen, Fruits Basket, FullMetal Alchemist, Girl Genius, Rise of the Guardians, Harry Potter, Kingsman, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Merlin, Chronicles of Narnia, Naruto, Avatar (2009), Once Upon a Time, Peaky Blinders, Percy Jackson, Pride and Prejudice, The Sandman, Shadowhunters, Sinbad (Dreamworks), Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, Teen Wolf, The Untamed, Torchwood, White Collar, X-Men.

I'm not, you know, deep in the fandom of more than usually three or four at a time, but my muse wanders like she's got itchy feet. And I'm probably at least passingly familiar with several other fandoms: I'm enjoying watching Dungeon Meshi at the moment but I haven't yet got the itch to play in that sandbox, I love reading Scum Villain's Self Saving System fanfic but I don't feel I know the characters well enough to write my own, I watched basically all of the Disney animated movies as a kid but I haven't yet had a solid enough idea to write, I have seen some of Stranger Things but I watched most of it while somewhat sleep deprived and that is not the best way to watch horror ^^" I've played FF7, I've read the Hunger Games, I've watched Yuri On Ice, etc, but I don't have a convenient list of those, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I won't make this any longer than it needs to be going into my ships unless you ask specifically, but let it be said that I'm a polyshipper in a big way (nothing gets my brain to go brrrrrrr like complicated relationship dynamics =3), and making it onto my NoTP list takes some seriously rancid vibes and/or overly pushy fans, and it's always safe to ask me about a ship =P

Story ideas are very welcome! The muse needs constant feeding =P I won't make any guarantees about them going anywhere, but I love seeing them all the same. Snippets... are probably the same? I don't know, I've never been sent one. I'm probably even less likely to do anything with them, just because of stupid brain quirks, but who knows?

[frozenambiguity]

inardescere asked:

Don't tease him too much, even if it's out of character. He just happened to be out on a little stroll, so when he comes home, the young master walks up to Kaeya, who he assumes had just woken up, and holds out four calla lilies tied with a ribbon he had on hand. "For you." Even though it's not... the prettiest bouquet he could have given. Maybe he should have gotten him proper flowers from Flora, but when he saw them at the river, they reminded Diluc of him. Calming flowers. "Good morning."

There are moments when one can act outside the norm. Deviate from one's usual behavioral pattern. Not because it is out of character, but because one's emotions have evolved, to the point where giving into the whims of one's heart no longer invokes resistance, but a certain desirability. Such is human nature — ever-flowing, ever-changing.

Kaeya had noticed his absence. Perhaps a little later than usual, he will admit. If they had been sleeping in the same bed, as they had multiple times before, then maybe he would have sensed Diluc the moment he departed.

Maybe his hand would have patted the soft sheets, searching, longing for him. For his warmth. Maybe a soft voice, still husky from sleep, would have called his name. Begged him to stay a little bit longer. The world would not end if they were missing from it for just a few minutes. And if it did, Kaeya could not think of a better way to go. With him. Together.

A scene for another day.

For now, this — the knight had always been a light sleeper and an early riser. A combination that made sneaking out without being noticed a task more arduous for others than ever intended. He had paid the stillness and the silence no mind, rationalizing Diluc's absence instead.

Sometimes, they had affairs to tend to. Business that they did not inform each other about, for there was no need to talk about such dull, mundane things. Kaeya had merely focused on getting up, preparing for the day, and descending the staircase to reach the main entrance.

There, he sees him. Skin pale. Even paler than his usual porcelain palette. Hm. Hair that could not tamed yet was no less beautiful because of it. Shawl over his shoulders. Thin. Comfortable clothes still in place. Feet—

... ... ...

— Barefeet...? An inquisitive brow rises at the sight. Just as Kaeya is about to protest, to ask why he has returned home in such a state, Diluc speaks. Holds out a handmade bouquet. "For you."

Kaeya's expression softens. Lips part, though no words escape. A moment that freezes in time, before clarity at once starts radiating, slowly melting the ice away. And as it melts, so does he. One small step, then another. Hands reach for that simple bouquet, bringing it closer. Calla Lilies. A choice on purpose...?

Only a soft, brief laugh is heard, the expression on his features tender, innocent, as he leans closer to the flowers, inhaling their scent. Freshly picked. Did Diluc...?

It is hard to contain his blush and the way his lips wish to curl upward. So he does not.

«Thank you. I...» For someone so well-versed with words, they sure seem to fail Kaeya. He does not care. Gaze focuses on the flowers some more, before shily sneaking a glance at the redhead. As quick as it is stolen, as quick it returns to the lilies.

«They're lovely». A well-crafted pause, dedicated to putting the bouquet on top of the nearest surface. For a moment, the thought that he may have to ask Adelinde for a small vase surfaces. It is soon replaced by the wish to acquire his own. A task he may ask Diluc to assist him with. To match the aesthetic of their future home.

Now that the appreciation has been given for the endearing gesture...

«Unlike your current state». A small yet no less powerful jab. For good measure. Now that Kaeya's maternal instincts kick in, his protest may begin.

«What were you thinking, going outside barefoot like this? And this shawl!» Hands grasp the fabric, bringing it closer to the redhead's body. «It is simply too thin for a day like this! Need I remind you that it is still winter, Master Diluc...» Who is the one becoming exasperated now? A rare sight, but the knight has trouble ignoring how little this fool has thought of himself, going into the cold without a care in the world, just to...!

... Just to bring him flowers.

An unnecessarily prolonged, deep sigh. «Come. Let's get you warm. I don't want you to catch a cold. You're already awfully pale...» A hint of suspicion as he tilts his head and hands rest on Diluc's shoulders, guiding him. Worry. There are other ways to greet Kaeya that are just as special. Diluc knows that. But Kaeya would lie if he said he did not appreciate the gesture, so he gives the redhead's shoulders a gentle squeeze. Good morning to you, too.

[daitranscripts]

Skyhold Conversation

Maryden Halewell

Skyhold Masterpost

Maryden: Inquisitor. A title hard to rhyme. A challenge for another day, I think. Forgive me my distractions, Eminence. I'm overwhelmed by you and what you've done. My name is Maryden. A humble bard.

Dialogue options:

General: How can you help? [2]

General: You’re a bard? [3]

General: Goodbye. [4]

2 - General: How can you help? PC: What do you bring to the Inquisition? Maryden: A simple thing that you know well. The power of a muse to rally hearts and minds. Inquisitor, I want to spread the word of what you've done. A small but vital role. Perhaps I'll also make a coin or two. [back to 1]

3 - General: You’re a bard? PC: Are you a bard, likes those of Orlais? Maryden: Oh, Heavens no! I am a minstrel first. My weapon is a cutting tongue, not blades. I hope my skills will help in some small way, if only I can give your deeds their due. [back to 1]

4 - General: Goodbye. PC: Carry on, then. Maryden: Oh, I will do my best, Inquisitor.

As the PC leaves Maryden: I thank you for your time, Inquisitor.

If spoken to again

Maryden: Your Worship graces me with blessed eyes.

Maryden: The day finds you of well and sturdy health?

Maryden: I hope to serve the cause, Inquisitor?

Maryden: There is an issue that you should address. I think it's worth your time, Inquisitor. Acquired War Table: Stop the Rumors

Upon completion Maryden: Of course you handled this, Inquisitor.

After completing Sutherland’s quest chain Maryden: Inquisitor, these youths of yours delight. A boon both on the field and for your name. And yet, I've tried to capture them in verse. To no avail it seems, but I forge on!

—

Ambient Dialogue

Maryden: From Haven's fire come we the able true, to Skyhold now, a fortress strong and free. We rally with our hero born anew. Inquisitor, there's none as brave as he/she.

Maryden: Our hero strode the winding road, defiant of the vile. Uncertain pause for home and cause, when met the monster's smile. A man his kin through blood and sin, a bastard of the gloom. A rising cut through bone and gut, an awful skyward bloom. I think this one is simply not my style.

After HLtA Maryden: Wardens harm their own, and fall to mortal failings. Where does that leave us?

After WEWH Maryden: I wonder who knows pain astride the Game, it's one who lacks a certain wherewithal. For he knows well a pain with paltry gain, the fool who dares to rhyme Halamshiral.

After WPHW Maryden: Wonder well what did befell our heroes wise and wondrous, the risks they took would earn no brook from villains dark and thunderous. For not undone but fairly won were victories and happenstance. And suffered all who held Mythal, deserving of their circumstance. Corypheus was failing thus, his weakness obvious to all. For faced with we, the fools must flee the blessed Inquisition's call.

General

Maryden: Ah lahdeedah and something something else.

Maryden: It writes itself. At least it seems it should.

Maryden: A perfect start except… no, it needs work.

Maryden: I think that one is just me showing off.

Maryden: It’s not my style to simply start and simply stop.

[sehtoast]

Kindred (ftm!Homelander x ftm!OC Smut)

18+

1.6k

AU Where Ben and Homelander are not intimate until later in season 3. Just some indulgent couch-breakdown Homelander t4t smut.

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

Warnings: Oral sex, Homelander's bottom dysphoria manifesting in calling himself inadequate.

The fates always had a wicked way with him, did they not? Kicking him when he was down, throwing curve balls left and right for him to adjust to. 

We have a situation– Yeah. Yeah, now, please.

It was the shaking of her voice that bothered him the most. 

Like he'd done something wrong. 

As though she wasn't the one who barged in unannounced. 

He rolls his already teary eyes. 

On my way, he heard faintly, the voice on the other end of the phone all too familiar to his already aching heart. 

But he couldn't move a muscle. All he could do was sit there with the remote, rewinding and resetting the video of his speech. 

"I'm stronger! I'm better!" 

Waiting for that familiar voice to barge in as well.

He'd broken decorum. He lashed out– let the mask slip. What would become of him in the court of public opinion? 

He hears her tell the new arrival that he needs to deliver the news. He can hear the unsettled shudder in her tone as she dances around the truth of what has her so frazzled. 

Just get in there, Ashley tells him. 

He tries to brace himself– to rise from the couch and throw, at the very least, his underwear on before his next visitor can come in and find shock in his difference.

His body doesn't move. 

Only his thumb, to press rewind again. 

"I am done being persecuted for my strength!" 

He hears a knock, not too harsh, before that voice calls out to him. 

"Hey, John?" The spider calls out to him. "Mind if I come in?" 

He's given the courtesy of a warning, this time. The bug always did give him more than others. His penthouse had no front door, and the vast majority of his visitors tended to just waltz in as though they owned the place. 

Not Benjamin. 

He doesn't reply– just pauses the video as though the silence could speak for him. 

He hears the padding of footsteps approaching him slowly. John's gut dropped in anticipation of another unpleasant reaction. 

"Oh," he hears. He doesn't look up. Doesn't want to. 

He doesn't want to see his best and only friend react to what he lacked. The dismay he felt from the last twenty-four hours stopped him from realizing Ben's voice carried no shock, no discomfort, no awe at his difference. 

"So, Ashley wanted me to come up and tell you about your numbers, but…" Ben trails off, walking over to the other side of the couch, his eyes never falling down to observe his lack save for the initial once over.  "Did- Did she actually give me a passcode locked tablet and expect..?" 

Ben scoffs a laugh and tosses it onto the couch nonchalantly. 

"Did you really expect her to use her brain?" He asks, a jest present but delivered without the proper inflection. 

"Do we ever?" 

It's the first a smile has cracked at his lips in nearly a day. 

The remote is coaxed from his hand, and the TV is shut off. 

"You shouldn't do that to yourself," the bug tells him. "Are you cold?" 

Was he cold? Was he, the fucking Homelander, cold? 

"Why? D'you want me to cover up?"

There's a question underneath his question. 

Do you need the anomaly put away?

The only thing, to this day, that ever stopped Homelander from jumping Benjamin's bones was the idea that his lack of… anatomy would dash any hopes of a positive response. 

It wouldn't be the first time someone had rejected his body– but it would certainly be the only time he couldn't pretend that he was unbothered.

The only time he found true value in another's opinion of himself. 

"No, I–" Ben breathed gently. "I want you to be comfortable." 

What part of my life has ever been comfortable, Homelander calls out from inside his mind. 

"Does my body make you uncomfortable?" He asks, a bitter inquisitiveness on his tongue.

The way Benjamin's brow flicks upward before he shakes his head no makes a smirk tug at John's lips. 

The hand that held the remote sought Ben's, his fingers lacing through the spider's gloved ones in a display of affection he was near petrified to show. 

He watches Benjamin bring his free hand to his mouth, biting the fingertips of his glove to remove it before bringing his bare hand down to rest against his. 

John begins to feel a hunger, the comfort of flesh calling to him loudly.

Sure, with his superpowered senses, he could smell the drips of his own arousal beginning to gather from the moment Benjamin arrived. But, at some point, he knew Benny could smell him too– so naked and exposed. 

The flare of the web-head's nostrils on a not-so-subtly deep breath gave it away. 

It makes him clench– makes his clit twitch in anticipation. 

"You'd be surprised…" Ben exhales, "at what you don't know about me." 

Oh, but he knew. He knew they were the same.

But, it was different when it was him compared to when it was Ben.  When it was Benjamin, it was a character trait.

When it was him, it was a shortcoming.

Just another inadequacy.

There had always been such carnal tension between them– unspoken and left to fester.  Every day it seemed to grow and grow, but every day John feared the web-head would find him lacking.

“What do you need from me, John?”  Ben murmured, his thumb stroking over John’s hand.

Entranced was certainly one word for how he felt as his free hand began to run the length of Benjamin’s arm, all the way to where the neckline of his suit met his throat.  He ran a finger along the seam, hooking the tip underneath to lightly pull…

“I…” he began, the words catching on a tight breath.  “N-Need you…”

Ben’s eyes floated down to his lips, lingering on them.

“Show me where,” the web-head whispered, offering his bare hand as though it were a tool to be used to John’s every whim.

Homelander pulled him forward by the collar, brushing their lips together– featherlight at first– finally, oh, god, finally sealing that long awaited contact.  As they kissed, John pressed Ben’s hand to his chest, shuddering at the way his little spider’s nails dragged softly through the smatterings of hair as he guided him lower, lower, and lower.

The first touch to his wetness had John keening into the kiss, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as Ben dragged his slick on two fingers to his clit, rubbing him with a pressure so perfect that it tingled down to his legs.

His hand overtop of Ben’s went to his wrist, gripping as he panted into the web-head’s mouth, a string of saliva connecting them when they separated.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous…” Ben breathed against him, finally sinking two fingers deep into John’s cunt, groaning at the way his walls clenched around him immediately.  “Thaaat’s it…”

Ben shifted, his fingers never leaving Homelander’s heat as he maneuvered to kneel before him.  

John choked on a breath when Benjamins’ tongue swiped his engorged clit before sucking it into his mouth, laving flat figures over the head as his fingers squelched on each thrust.

“B-Ben…” he whimpered, reaching down to tangle his fingers in the curtains of the web-head’s hair.

A moan rumbled against him, stimulating him further.

“You taste so good,” Ben murmured as he withdrew his fingers, licking them clean.  He looked to Homelander for a moment, pressing a kiss to the curve of his mound.  “Lay back and let me take care of you…”

It took a hand pressing him flat, but John complied.  He gasped at the way Ben gripped his hips and pulled him closer to the edge of the couch, leaving his pussy and rim on display– his legs resting overtop of Benny’s shoulders.

The web-head tensed his lips and dropped a glob of spit directly onto his clit, bringing a thumb up to rub his bud tantalizingly slow, leaning down to run his tongue between John’s folds, lapping up every drop of him.

Homelander had no idea when he started cresting to his peak– perhaps when Ben ran his tongue from his rim to his clit and sank his fingers in deep– but, fuck, he was close.

His body began to twitch with every crook of Benjamin’s digits against a spot that had his head thrown back in a whine, and he bucked against his spider’s mouth for any added friction he could find.

Suddenly, Benjamin was stood, leaning halfway over him to press a wet kiss to his lips, dragging Homelander’s own taste through his mouth with every swipe of his tongue.

“You’re doing so well,” Ben praised, a soaked thumb dragging along his cheekbone as his other hand’s digits kept their pace inside of him.  “I can feel every time you clench, y’know…” Ben slipped a third finger into him.  “Perfect…  So, so perfect…”

At the all consuming warmth of Ben taking his clit again, John threw his head back in bliss, his cunt throbbing and gushing against the web-head’s fingers as he thrust them in deep.  He called out his little spider’s name, howling it through tears that sizzled away from the heat in his eyes.

“Oh– oh fuck!”  He whimpered as Ben withdrew, his tongue taking the place of his fingers to lave him clean, his slurps ringing obscenely into the room.  Homelander pressed his fist to his mouth to keep from singing out further, to muffle the moans that spilled free from him.  “B-Benny!”

He panted heavily, eyelids leaden as Ben kissed a path from his clit to his neck, breaking away only to meet his lips.  His fingers fumbled around Benjamin’s super suit to seek entry.

As he and Benny lost themselves in each other, Homelander found himself almost a little grateful that Ashley was dumb enough to barge in unannounced.  If nothing else, that stupid open door policy brought him his little spider…

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #1 - Envoy

Character: Daidukul The Ruby Sea, 1563, Sixth Astral Era

Fingertips drum excitedly on the edge of the boat, a too-wide grin on youthful features as they stared out into the vast ocean beyond. Daidukul had seen the Ruby Sea but once in his ten cycles, accompanying an uncle of his on a trip to Isari some few summers ago. To actually set foot on a boat was another manner entirely, and now torn between watching the land he had come from grow more distant, and the land to which he was going grow closer, Daidukul opted between bounding between the port and starboard of the vessel as it turned away from the dock.

Kugane bound as a student, he was to spent a full moon learning the ways and traditions of their people, as had many Kha before him. Already versed in the language; both spoken and written, Daidukul had shown an aptitude for communication even in his formative years.

The guardian of the young Kha; an older, greying man who had found it almost impossible to keep up with the child's nigh-boundless energy heaves an amused sigh. It would be a long moon trying to keep up with him, but one he would enjoy none the less. Age was beginning to take a toll, and though many of the Kha had great skill with language, there were few that could truly call themselves master.

Master of Tongues. This was his title, and his duty to find another protege to carry on his duty before he slipped into the lifestream. The young boy was a contender, but his inquisitive nature often saw him sidetracked.

Bounding back from the side of the ship, Daidukul's mass of wild, unkempt red hair that so easily matched his robes battered about in the wind, combing it with his fingers from his face... And upon so doing, sees his gaze fix on a traveller; a lone woman who gazed outwards to sea. With no further hesitation, Daidukul closes the gap, and offers a hand to the woman, offering a short bow that she only looks to be charmed by.

"I'm Daidukul of the Kha, and it's nice to meet you!" Flowing Hingan left his lips, rising up to greet her with a brighter, childlike expression. "What takes you across the Ruby Sea? Are you from Namai, Miss? Have you ever been to Kugane? What's it like?"

The elder chuckles to himself, settling against the mast of the boat. Sidetracked, and inquisitive, yes. But Daidukul was above all things friendly; a trait that would most assuredly take him far in life, wherever he might roam. A smile creases the corners of his aging eyes, as the young boy spared no moment to learn of the land he would soon set foot upon.