#'where did this originate from... i need to know' LOL she is sometimes so inquisitive that it's funny

[brutalmasks]

bunny mask having a birthday cake like this once she finds out about the tradition of lighting candles + just getting a cake for the day you were born AT ALL because it's meant to be special is something else that's on my mind today.

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

To 10 Games

Thanks so much for the tag @thevikingwoman! In no particular order and no particular criteria. Just games that have meant a lot to me for one reason or the other over the years.

tagging @wintersongstress @muses-circle @elveny @alyssalenko and anyone else. I have no clue who is here anymore, lol.

1. Resident Evil 4

Though I love the remake and plan on replaying it soon, the original has to be on this list for not only being nostalgic, but just for being a big staple of my time in high school. I played this game way after it released, but it was such a fun escape when I needed it. Ada and Leon were the first couple I really shipped and their dynamics still appear in my writing today, even subtly. honestly I think it's also fair to say Ada also taught me how to flirt. lol.

2. Kingdom Hearts.

This was the first game I played where the story impacted me enough for me to cry at the end. Yes it’s not exactly great and it’s very cheesy and weird, but I feel the need to include it because this was the game that made me realize how impactful the medium of games could be in terms of storytelling.

3. Dragon Age

I’m sure you knew this would be on here! I’ve spoken so much about it, but let it suffice to say it got me back into writing and now I’m a much better writer because of the things I’ve learned and developed along the way! Will give the edge to Inquisition over Origins on this one, but I feel like a lot of people don't know how much I replayed origins, and in fact played it all the way back when it first came out.

4. Tomb Raider Anniversary

Been thinking about these games a lot recently. I do love the remakes but I have to say I’m partial to this Lara, of Legend and Anniversary variety. She likes adventures and history and she explores and goes to cool locations, and at a time in my life where I was just starting to realize how much travel means to me, I got to vicariously travel. I also think these games are a good blend of puzzle, exploration, and action.

5. Red Dead Redemption 2

This was the game that solidified my feelings that story telling in games not only rivals that of other mediums, but sometimes can even overtake it. Playing RDR2 feels like reading a long epic novel where the characters become your best friends by the end.

6. Last of Us

It would feel weird not to have this game on here because I truly think it is one of the best games that has ever been made. I just like to pretend the sequel doesn’t exist. Cough.

7. Assassins Creed 2

I love so many of these games—odyssey is definitely up there as well but I have to give this one to 2. I played it when I was 16 after coming home from Europe for the first time and enjoyed the hell out of running around Florence after I had been there. I did also have fun playing odyssey again after being in Greece. Couldn’t find the place I jumped from in Paros I was so sad.

8. Okami

This game is very much pure nostalgia. beautiful cell shaded animation and compelling use of Japanese mythology.

9. Mass Effect 2

I don't quite love ME as much as Dragon age due to my own preference for fantasy/medieval, but I love 2 for where it took the story/characters. Overall, ME is one of the few, if only, pieces of SciFi media I like.

10. Witcher 3

If you put a gun to my head and told me to name what I thought the best video game ever released was, I'd say Witcher 3. I have fond memories of playing this game while eating pizza in college. I also just love the animations for this game. In a time of "realism is the way" in video games, to me it's the more animated style that is much more timeless. (this is another reason I like Baldur's Gate right now)

[fanfoolishness]

Interview with a Fic Writer

Tagged by @novantinuum, thank you!

__

How many works do you have on AO3?

242 works. The actual fuck??? Wow, me. Of course, this does span about 9 years, so I guess that's not that insane?

What’s your total word count on AO3

549,737! But that averages out to only 2271 words per story, haha. You got me! I think I have less than 10 fics that have more than 1 chapter. I love one-shots, what can I say?

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Oh, you want to get into this? All right. We'll get into this:

The X-Files, proto-fandom, ur-fandom, first OTP ever... yeah, 15-year-old me went. WILD. Many horrible Mulder/Scully stories, and some Doggett/Scully and character study stories as well. Mostly not very good, but with occasional flashes of decent writing. Really had a difficult time writing romantic feelings between 30+ year-olds given a) I did not date in high school and b) was 17 and not an emotionally stunted FBI agent.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - not a huge volume of stories, but definitely some very angsty Spuffy and Spike tales.

Harry Potter - just one published fic (Lupin grieving Sirius), and one with Snape and Harry having a heart to heart I could never quite get right.

Then came the dark times (vet school) where I was exhausted and hard at work for a few years and I thought, horribly, I might have outgrown fandom. Thank god for...

X-Men First Class and the undying love of Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr! I'd never fallen for a slash ship before but my god I fell hard for this one and wrote my first fandom smut and my first real AU (mutants with zombies) that I never finished.

Then.... let's see...

Quantum Leap drabbles!

Two Avatar the Last Airbender fics!

Agents of SHIELD fics, mostly focused on Coulson and FitzSimmons, and super angsty.

Bioshock Infinite sads (god I love writing the sad bad dad)!

And then the juggernauts of Mass Effect (my longest fic to date with 30 chapters!) and Dragon Age, which were endlessly productive and are still productive given the variety of different protagonists you can create, different choices, and different relationships to canon characters. I'm still working on a Hawke/Varric fic in the back of my mind here.

There's one random Gravity Falls fic (wish I could have got a little more obsessed with it, or gotten into it while it aired) of Stan sads, and one tiny Avengers ficlet of a sad Tony and Peter.

There's one Wheel of Time fic! Dammit I wanted Rand and Tam to reunite so much sooner than they did.

40-odd Steven Universe fics! So many SU fics!

One random Schitt's Creek fic of David and Patrick!

And finally, The Mandalorian, with 47 fics. Phew!!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Invitation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again. A promise is kept.

2. The Outstretched Hand, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin is a man of action, but sometimes, the quiet finds its way in. Din reckons with the aftermath of the events of Chapter 14, the Tragedy. (My very first Mando fic!)

3. Not the Sentimental Type, Steven Universe. Priyanka Maheswaran has long prided herself on keeping her emotions in check. But a mother's love can only grow, and sometimes it expands to people she never anticipated. Like the Universe boy.

4. Translation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages. Some might have thought the Child had no language at all. Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.

5. Full Disclosure, Steven Universe. Just as the world begins to recover from Spinel's attack, Steven starts having nightmares. The more he ignores his fears, the worse they become, until he's left with no other choice but to ask for help. (My thoughts on what would drive Steven Universe Future, and I wasn't far off.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really try to! Even sometimes years later if I realize I've missed some. I appreciate each and every one, and have definitely made friendships through comments <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, hell... I'm too lazy to link these but if anyone wants to read them let me know or find them on my AO3!

A Stopped Clock from Bioshock Infinite has Booker DeWitt ravaged by Korsakoff's amnesia from his long-standing alcoholism. Is Columbia real or imagined? Hard to say.

The Viscount's Way shows Varric Tethras having become his parent, and a cruel, hard viscount of Kirkwall.

Songs in the Key of Red shows how Cullen fared under the dark future in Redcliffe in DAI, and they write happy endings, don't they? shows what happened to Varric. Both horribly depressing in different ways!

Two by Two, Hands of Blue shows a not unexpected end to lyrium addiction :( Poor Cullen, he got a lot of angsty developments, didn't he?

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

Never really got into crossovers or AUs. Just... meh for me!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don't think so.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Charles/Erik, Shepard/Garrus, Shepard/Liara, Shepard/Tali, a mess of different f/f femShep drabbles, and most of my Dragon Age pairings have gotten sexytimes. On the other hand I helped start the NoRomo Mando tag for the Mandalorian to help find non-pairing Mandalorian content. Depends on the pairing and the fandom, for sure.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, thank goodness!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so! There used to be a Spanish-language wiki linking to some of my old X-Files stories XD

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but friends and I definitely will beta each others' things to help with sticky points.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ALL-TIME? Just, why? So many ships I loved in years past turned out to have pretty damn problematic elements I didn't see at the time, so it's hard to say... Mulder/Scully actually has a ton of issues, Buffy/Spike obviously has issues... so maybe Hawke/Varric (except not canon!) or Garrus/Shepard or Brosca/Alistair.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Still need to finish my Hawke/Varric fic for after Adamant! I have 3 chapters written that I haven't posted. Maybe posting them will help inspire me....

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and POV writing from different characters; I feel fantastic writing Steven and Greg, though totally at sea trying to write from Connie's POV, randomly. But I think my dialogue and emotional beats are what people tend to tune in for. When I do write romance, it's usually very sweet and silly and pulled from life. I also love writing nature scenes and settings to help establish mood. Mood and emotion and catharsis are my bread and butter, and I like my poetic prose.

What are your writing weaknesses?

What the hell is a long, well-thought-out plot? Like what even is that???? My longest fic with 30 chapters is basically "Shepard has PTSD and hangs out with her crew. They have some funerals." THAT'S IT. How the heck people actually come up with plot that ties into the lore of a fandom I genuinely have no idea and it's the biggest thing that's held me back from finishing original work. I can come up with a setting and characters and then trying to make them do stuff that's more than just talking to other characters and deepening their relationships with them... how the fuck???

I also definitely have 10-20 words that I am in constant danger of reusing like every other paragraph, LOL!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't speak any other languages so I always avoid it as much as possible. I've seen people describe sign differently in fics and picked one way to depict it that made sense to me for Grogu, but that's about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, of course!

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Towards Another Day, the tale of how Cullen went from being a templar in Kirkwall to commander of the Inquisition, is definitely up there.

Reverberations is one of my rare multi-chaptered fics and one of my favorite for the catharsis at the end. It makes me tear up every time. 5 times Din and Grogu encounter the Dark Side, and one time they find the Light.

Either a world for the birds (Steven develops a closer relationship with his Uncle Andy, learning birdwatching along the way) or on the subject of rocks (Steven and Jasper finally reach a peace) might take the prize for favorite SU fic.

__

Tagging (if you’re super bored and would like a fun thing to do) fellow writers:

@lastwordbeforetheend, @runrundoyourstuff, @honestlyhufflepuff, @art3mys, and @fake-starwars-fan if you would like to play!

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xxi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xxi: what went we

Masterlink Post

Word Count: 15.3k

Rating: Explicit: sexual content ahead.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, some slight gore/blood (it's very mild), the aforementioned sexually explicit content.

Notes: Hi guys. I don't really know where to begin this post, because I am incredibly emotional. It feels so very fitting and special to me that I am bringing in the last chapter of Ancient Names just as 2021 rolls in, and so yes, I AM crying, yes, this WILL be an exceptionally sappy notes section, and yes, this is going to be all about you!

There are so many people that are in part responsible for this fic actually getting finished and put out where the world can see it. @empirics, whose unending support even when she doesn't even GO here and cheerleading me through writing sprints; @lilwritingraven, who is so sweet, so supportive, so incredible and just an overall gigantic sweetheart; @faithchel, whose tags are incredible and always just give me LIFE, I love that our girls be out here really feral like that; @shallow-gravy, who not only lends me her eyeballs but also lets me complain and whine, send her memes nonstop, and participates in my very elaborate fantasies of Elliot and Diana living out their lives as dog moms on a farm (and sometimes in our unholy OT3); @baeogorath, also an eyeball-lender, also incredibly sweet, ALSO lets me send them memes, and does so good in talking me down from my adrenaline anxiety pre-posting and post-posting, was the first person to welcome me into this fandom and is also just a dear, dear friend who happens to be incredibly talented. And, of course, @starcrier. As always, this would have never ever ever been possible without you, not even a little bit, not even at all. From the bottom of my heart, to every single one of you, and the people who have left kudos, have left comments: thank you thank you thank you, from the absolute bottom of my heart. Here is ALL my love, just for you!

The emotional journey of writing this fic has been an incredible one. And a taxing one. Elliot is a character near and dear to my heart for many reasons; I pour so much of my heart into her, so when I hear people say that they love her, and love this journey, and love these things that I've created and written, I mean it when I say that it makes my whole entire day. It means so much to me. Thank you.

In the essence of time, I will not go through all of the feelings that are in my brain right now because there are SO many and I am already crying lol. Please just know you have made the experience of joining a new fandom, and writing in it, so incredible!

There is going to be an epilogue following this chapter, and then I'm going to take a short break and start in on a sequel fic, tentatively titled Witching Hour. Please feel free to hang out/chat w me/plague me with your thoughts at any time of the day; I would love to visit with all of y’all!

John was lying to her.

Or, at the very least, he was withholding information from her, which was just about as bad as lying, Elliot thought. She didn’t know what exactly he wasn’t forthcoming about—but did it matter, at this point? She could tell he was lying; he’d been all kinds of ready to leave and go and get out of Hope County, and now he was scrounging up some kind of ass-pull reason for them to stay. So did it matter? Did the distinction count?

Yes, she thought absently, as John’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles along the small of her back. Yes, I have to know what he’s lying to me about.

“Good morning,” John murmured against her neck. “How did you sleep?”

It had been three days since her baptism-gone-awry, three days of Burke occupying the bunkhouse she had been in while she had wordlessly moved into John’s space, three days of avoiding eye contact with the marshal and deferring questions about him. I don’t know, I really only knew him for a day, she’d say when John asked, or does it matter if I told him? He wouldn’t get it, the unspoken words being ‘not like you do’. She hoped, anyway.

Three days of trying to figure out what it was John wasn’t telling her.

“Like shit,” she replied tiredly as his mouth trailed along the curve of her shoulderblade. The pressure of his fingers against her sternum had her rolling onto her back to look up at him; his gaze swept over the exposed skin.

“Bruising’s clearing up,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. But he didn’t elaborate; he didn’t say, should we reveal your sin today, my love? the way that she thought he would try. It felt as though the gears in her head were still sluggishly turning, trying to piece together the entire picture of what was going on, a picture that she felt like John didn’t want her to see.

She knew exactly how it would go if she asked. What’s the game? she’d say, and John would look at her with those eyes, and lean in to kiss her, and he’d say, no game, hellcat, and she’d have to believe him because she didn’t have any empirical evidence that he was lying to her. Just a feeling, deep in her gut, twisting and wrenching.

It made it worse to know that John was looking at her with adoration.

Trailing a lazy circle below her collarbone with his fingertips, John asked, “Do you want to do it today?” and she stifled a sigh.

“I don’t know yet, about staying,” she replied, even though she did know: she wouldn’t. She would die before she crawled into a stupid fucking bunker at the behest of Joseph Seed. “I want to wait.”

John’s eyes flickered a little at her words, but he nodded. Elliot reached up, catching her hand with his and skimming the pads of her thumbs along his palm. The words sat there on the tip of her tongue: what aren’t you telling me? Why can’t you just tell me? Haven’t we been through enough, the two of us?

“Your heartline,” Elliot said instead, forcing her voice into playfulness because she couldn’t stop thinking about how Burke had told her to carry on as she had been. “Have you ever had your palm read?”

“No,” he answered amusedly, letting her nail skim along the curve of the line on his palm. “Are you an expert in palmistry?”

“My mama used to entertain tarot cards and palm readers with her ladies,” she replied. “So I listened in a lot. I suppose it isn’t very Godly to have your palm read.”

“It isn’t.” John’s eyes glittered. “But go ahead and tell me what mine says.”

She shifted a little against the pillows. On the floor by her side of the bed, Boomer let out a long, suffering sigh—like he was tired of listening to this flirtation already. For a small second in time, that feeling of peace swept over her, and she let herself bask in it. Elliot thought that she deserved that much at least.

“Your heartline shows your personality, and your quality of love,” she explained, skimming her finger along his heartline. “Yours comes all the way over, see? All the way across your palm.”

“Is that good?”

“Very,” Elliot said somberly. “It shows you have an abundance of love, and high expectations.”

John worked his jaw a little, clearly trying not to smile like he was proud of himself—like he had any control over the lines of his palm and how they worked. “I could have told you that.”

“And it curves upward,” she continued. “Which means you have great verbal dexterity.”

“I could have also told you that.”

“Undoubtedly,” she deadpanned. “Are you going to let me finish my reading?”

He flashed his teeth at her in a grin. “Please,” he said, “continue.”

Elliot clicked her tongue, turning her attention back to his hand. Inspecting for a moment, she said, “You have a upward split here, you see? That means you’re willing to sacrifice a lot for love.”

John rumbled his agreement at the statement and leaned down, kissing her shoulder.

“And these little forks here,” she added, pressing her thumb against them, “indicates a dispute on marriage.” Her eyes lifted to his, playful. “Are you intending on marrying, John? Palm says that’s a bad idea.”

For a second, John stared at her—his eyes fluttered, and he looked like he was collecting himself. Elliot sat up a little, frowning, but when she did it seemed to trigger whatever it was that was needed for him to come back to being present. Interlacing their fingers together, he pulled her forward and kissed her; and kissed her, and kissed her, until her lungs ached and she thought she was getting dizzy from not being able to take a full breath. His free hand slid down between her legs; when her lips parted to allow her to whimper, John’s teeth caught her lower lip with bruising force.

Already, heat was pooling in the pit of her stomach. Already, she could feel those telltale signs of desire, the way that John inspired it in her with just a few simple gestures.

“Want you,” John said against her mouth, guiding her onto him, settling her on his lap. Something was wrong, something she’d said had struck a strange nerve in him; but undeniably, it felt good, that his hands were trembling whenever his grip on her lessened a little. It felt good, because it felt like he needed her.

“Reading my palm is a cute trick, but—”

“How badly?” Elliot asked, before she could stop herself. John’s eyes, dark with want, raked over her as the sheets bunched at her hips. When she rocked her hips against his inquisitively, a low, strangled noise came out of him. “How badly do you want me?”

“You’re—in a mood,” John managed out. He opened his mouth to keep talking—something insufferable, Elliot was sure—but as he did, she adjusted and sank down against him, drawing out of him a low, vicious moan. His fingers dug into her hips and he hissed, “Wicked thing.”

She slid him out of her, and he groaned, miserable.

“How badly?” she asked again, less cloying this time. There was a strange kind of satisfaction that wound up in her, hot and humid, when John let her do this—let her take, let her sink her nails and her teeth into him wherever and however she wanted. Like he knew exactly what it was she needed and didn’t mind giving it to her.

Liar, something inside of her said, he’s a fucking liar, there’s something he isn’t telling us, but then John looked at her and said, “So badly, more than anything, Elliot,” and her chest tightened.

Her fingers found his shoulder and she tugged him up into a sitting position. Her mouth found his; she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled just as their hips slotted together and she sighed his name in a hitching breath. The delicious burn was almost enough to fizz her focus out of existence—with so little sleep on her agenda, it was hard enough, but then she canted her hips wantingly and sparks of red-hot pleasure went racing up her spine.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” John ground out, burying his face against her neck. “Can’t believe you’re mine, El—can’t—after all of this—”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered at his words, the uneasy sprint of happiness making her stomach churn. Something else, though, wrenched around the cavity of her chest—those words. Can’t believe you’re mine.

“John,” she managed out, breathless, “I—”

“—and I’m yours.” John kissed her and guided her hips down against him until she was moaning unsteadily. “Fuck, yes, I’m—all yours, baby, just take w-what you—need from me, give you anything, anything—”

I’m all yours, he said, in the same breath as can’t believe you’re mine, and it shouldn’t have but it felt different: in that moment, having John buried into her up to the hilt and digging his fingers into her skin and sighing her name, it shouldn’t have felt different, but it did. It did, because they belonged to each other.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, on his shoulder. She thought, he’s a liar, and she thought, I’m so afraid of losing him, too, and she thought, we belong to each other.

“Please,” Elliot moaned, but she didn’t know what she was asking for; to finish, to hear him say it again, to hear him say more, to tell her the complete and absolute truth? Did it matter, anymore?

It does matter. The distinction matters.

So she said, “You’re mine,” and she kissed him, and she said it again, and again, like a prayer; until John was saying it back, feverish and panting the delicious words against her skin, I’m yours, I’m yours, all yours.

Wicked, and wretched, and maybe a liar, but all hers.

Later, tangled together in bed, John pulled her flush against him and said against her skin, “Don’t you want it, too?”

“I do,” Elliot murmured, knowing that he was talking about the Wrath he was going to put into her skin. “There’s just... A lot after that, to think about. And I know you’ll want an answer right away—”

“Is it that hard?” he asked. “To make a decision about staying or leaving?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

John frowned. “I just—”

“You just want me to say yes to whatever it is you want,” Elliot snapped. “I’d like to remind you that you told me we’d go as soon as this was done.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, Elliot. I’m just—”

And then he paused, like something wanted to come out of him that he didn’t want to say, like he’d caught himself before he’d make a fool of himself. All this time, and Elliot thought she’d never see John vulnerable, not really in the way that she wanted—he’d seen her crying and broken and grieving, and she’d seen him in intimate glimpses, but not completely.

“You’re just what?” she asked, brows pulling together.

John’s fingers traced along her sternum, spelling out WRATH, much like he had done that evening at her mother’s house.

“They’re my family,” he said after a moment. “He gave me everything.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in her chest. “I know.”

“That includes you, too.” John leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “He brought me you. I know you don’t believe, hellcat, but if nothing happens then what did we lose? Nothing. I just get to keep my family.”

Her lashes fluttered, exhaustion seeping over her bones again. It was late into the morning, but already she wanted to close her eyes.

“I told you before,” she whispered. “I told you. You can’t have both. You can’t put one foot in both worlds, John.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. He ducked his head against her neck and kissed there, and she thought about what he’d said that night in the bar.

Outside of my loyalty to Joseph, there’s you, and I want both.

I want you too, Elliot.

We can have a place to belong.

She thought about Jerome’s voice over the radio. You don’t have to Atlas this thing, deputy.

She thought about Joey, holding her tight. I never doubted you’d be able to get me.

She thought about how, at twenty-five, she had to bury her best friend in the fucking ground.

John was lying to her about something. He wasn’t telling her everything, and maybe she had always known that it would be like this, between them: maybe, down in the marrow of her bones, she had always known they would end up at odds with each other, John trapped between two worlds that he wanted and neither side willing to budge.

Something has to be done, she thought tiredly, as John’s fingers smoothed along her hip, and I’m going to have to fucking do it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’ve gotta get them out of here, Rook.”

Burke’s words stayed there, lingering in the air between them. It was late in the afternoon, and John was with his brothers and Faith in the chapel, and she’d ducked into Burke’s bunkhouse between guard shifts to grab a quick word with him. As soon as she told him that John had been pushing to get her sin revealed sooner than the original week he’d told her, Burke’s frown had deepened.

“They’re planning on getting it over with and getting the fuck out,” he said, pacing the tiny bunkhouse room. “There’s no way I’m getting to that radio with them all here. They think the world’s going to end, and that they need to be in their bunkers to survive it. If they get locked in there, Elliot, then—”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get them all out of here,” she replied irritably. “You do realize that I’m only—John’s the only—”

Burke waved his hand to stop her from elaborating. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to discuss the nature of her relationship with John beyond what the base information: they had indulged in a physical relationship, and an emotional one, and now Elliot’s priorities included him. As best they could.

“He wants to do the… Ceremony,” Elliot continued, mouth twisting around the only word she could think to say without making it macabre, “soon. And I just think that if I push it all the way out, then it’ll stir up suspicion, after I told him I wanted to—”

“What if you didn’t?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“What if you didn’t push it out?” Burke continued, slowly, pitching his voice quieter and more urgent when he noticed movement outside. “What if you asked for it to be done sooner? But just—somewhere else? Not here? Make up something about how you don’t have good memories here, and…”

“And ask for his family to be there,” Elliot finished, “so that they have to leave you here?”

Burke nodded. His gaze darted to the window again, and she knew that they were running out of time. “You’ll still be guarded.”

“I can handle a few of these fuckers,” he replied, waving his hand. “Most of them are scattered out, getting supplies. I hear them complaining about it outside all the time. I’ll get that radio, see if I can hear any chatter, and tell them where to find you. ”

I need more time, she thought, but she knew that she wouldn’t get it. Not now. Her deadline had been set for her—by Joseph, by John, and even a little bit by Burke. She was this close to being done, to being—

Free.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, yes, I can do that. I’ll ask them to take me to the ranch, and—I can do that.”

“I know,” Burke said, and he had never sounded more confident; he planted his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, the clarity having returned from his Bliss-induced high. He hesitated, and then said, “The ceremony—”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want you to know,” he plunged on, “it doesn’t matter, but I want you to know that you aren’t… That isn’t all of who you are.” His hands squeezed shoulders, the pressure welcoming and comforting and nauseating all at once. How strange, that kindness sickened her, now. “Wrath.”

Elliot paused, swallowing thickly. “I should go,” she said, because Burke still didn’t know what she’d done to Kian, still didn’t know the full extent of her body count or the way she’d felt when she killed a man. How it felt good, now—satisfying, an instant hit of dopamine centered around control.

“The back window,” Burke said, gesturing. “So the guards don’t wonder.”

“It’s all very exciting,” Elliot added. She tried for lightness, pushing the window up. “Subterfuge.”

“Just try not to say that where anyone can hear you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We’ve nearly collected the last of the supplies,” Joseph said, pacing absently back and forth. “How long do you think, Jacob?”

“A day, at most,” the redhead replied. “They’re working quickly, without all of these interruptions.” Jacob paused, and then turned his gaze at John. His mouth twisted for a moment, and John could tell his older brother was trying not to smile when he continued, “What’s your timeline, John?”

“The same,” John replied tightly.

“A day at most?”

“No, the same as before,” he clarified, even though he knew Jacob was doing it on purpose. “You gave me a timeline and that’s what I’m working with.”

“It’s just, you sounded very confident about your ability to wrangle the deputy,” his eldest brother continued, “and you’ve always been an overachiever.”

Joseph was looking at him expectantly. John knew that they wanted him to say that Elliot had insisted on doing it sooner, that she’d fully acquiesced to staying with him, that he had fully convinced her, down to every molecule of her being, that what they were doing was right and just and undeniably truthful.

But he hadn’t. Their conversation this morning only proved that more to him. You can’t have both, she’d said, like she still thought of herself as a separate entity from him, from his family. But she wasn’t; where else would she find people who would accept her, unconditionally?

Well, mostly unconditionally. There was one condition: believing. The most difficult one for her, he thought.

“I can spend more time with her,” Faith supplied, helpfully. “Maybe she’s tired of being around you boys all the time. You can be...” Her gaze flickered, and she tilted her chin a little, smiling. “A little heavy-handed. It’s possible that a lighter touch is necessary to bring the deputy around.”

“First, you should stop calling her that,” John pointed out, and he felt a little more than petulant saying it. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Elliot was naturally inclined to open up to Faith more easily, and he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it did still bother him, sitting right in the back of his mind. Always away but never forgotten. “Continuing to refer to her as “the deputy” is only going to further cement her ties to her past life.”

“Well,” Jacob demurred, “we can’t all call her baby, can we, John?”

“If you have a problem with me enjoying the marital bed,” John bit out, “then I think perhaps you spend some time reflecting inwardly on why that’s such a—”

The door to the chapel creaked as it was pushed open. Swallowing back his words quickly, he turned and glanced over his shoulder to see Elliot, hesitating in the doorway. Boomer lingered just behind her, sat at the bottom of the stairs, ever obedient.

“I can come back,” she said, sounding uncertain.

“Not at all,” Joseph replied, before John could tell her maybe that would be best. “Please, come in.”

She did, letting the door swing shut behind her, and moved tentatively toward the front. He wondered how it felt for her—coming in here, with all of them looking at her, much the same way she had the day that set the events in motion that brought her back to them.

John wondered, too, if Joseph had known this all along; if the things that he heard and saw had shown him that Elliot would always come back here, to them. Our deputy, he’d always said, without fail.

“I want to do it,” Elliot said, as she approached. “Soon. As soon as possible.”

Silence reigned supreme for a moment, before John said, “That’s great, Elliot. We can get started with—”

“But I don’t want to do it here,” she interrupted, bringing John’s mouth to a full stop.

“More fucking demands,” Jacob muttered under his breath.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Joseph said, watching her curiously. The way they had been, he was the closest to Elliot, with a table separating her from John. His fingers itched. “If you’re worried about the safety of it, I am sure John is more than equipped to—”

“This is supposed to be cleansing, isn’t it?” Elliot asked. “Regardless of how you feel, Joey’s body was put on display here. I don’t want this to be the place where I...”

Her voice trailed off, and her gaze darted elsewhere, mouth pressing into a thin line. John said, “I don’t think going somewhere else would be a problem. Where did you have in mind?”

“The ranch,” she replied, sounding relieved. “Feels fitting.”

As John stifled a smile, Joseph said, “Well, we’ll need to clear out the bodies, but I’m sure that can be done.”

“That’s manpower,” Jacob protested.

“You were just talking about how quickly they were getting things done,” John replied. “Weren’t you? Ahead of schedule. Over-achieving, I think.”

Jacob’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click and grind of his molars, and for once, John felt a sweeping thrill of victory. It was coming together, right there, in front of him—in front of his brothers, and Faith. All of the witnessing the fruits of his labor.

“Fine,” Jacob acquiesced, at last. “But it’ll take them a few hours.”

“Perfect.” John smiled, looking at Elliot across the table, Joseph’s figure nearly eclipsing her. “Then Elliot and I will head out as soon as we hear that the bodies have been properly disposed of.”

“There’s one more thing,” Elliot began, looking uncertain, and drawing all eyes back to her again even as Joseph had moved to place his hand on Faith’s shoulder. When they had watched expectantly for long enough, she continued, “I want—everyone there.”

“Everyone?” John asked, the word souring in his mouth.

“Not—of Eden’s Gate. Just… All of you,” she elaborated.

John could feel the surprise, bubbling fresh and unexpected, between his siblings as they exchanged glances.

“Even me?” Jacob asked, and John saw the grin splitting across his face.

“Even you,” Elliot replied, dryly. “Against my better judgment, I’m sure.”

“I’m touched, honey.”

Clearing his throat, John walked around the table briskly, muttering a quick excuse us as he guided Elliot away from the front of the chapel and down the walkway a little.

“You want my family there?” he asked, keeping his voice low as his siblings chatted quietly amongst themselves. Jacob was grinning wolfishly, looking very pleased with himself, which was something John didn’t necessarily like. “Normally, it’s more of a—a private affair, and that’s how I pictured it with you—”

“This is important to me,” Elliot said, watching him. “And they’re important to you. Aren’t they?”

John swallowed. “Well, yes, but…”

“John,” she murmured, her fingers loosely tangled with his, “I’ll stay, after.”

He blinked at her. “You’ll—?”

“Yes.” Her gaze flickered over his, her voice low as she struggled through the words. “I’ll stay here, with you—and your family. After it’s done. I just… Need to close the chapter.”

I fucking did it, he thought, certain that he was going to grin like a complete maniac if he didn’t keep himself in check. I fucking got her. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they doubted me.

“Of course,” he managed out, somehow keeping his voice steady despite the rush of butterflies banging against his rib cage. “Of course, hellcat, anything you want.”

“Okay.” She paused, and then reached up and kissed him—willingly, of her own volition, in front of his siblings, she kissed him, and then sat back on her feet. “In a day, then?”

“In a day,” John promised, their noses brushing. “We’ll really belong to each other.”

Elliot’s lashes fluttered. She looked a little more tired than before, but it was hard to tell this close; and if it bothered her at all—if it was changing her mood—it didn’t show. He felt her smile against his mouth.

“Yes,” she murmured, just the way that he liked. “Completely.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jacob stopped by the bunkhouse with Joseph that evening to let him know they’d dispatched the men to clean out the ranch of any remaining corpses; they’d do it through the night, to better assist Elliot in her revelations. It seemed that the members of Eden’s Gate were just as relieved as the siblings themselves that the deputy was no longer and adversary, but joining them.

Which still left the matter of Cameron Burke.

“I say we kill him,” Jacob announced, glancing over John’s shoulder to ensure Elliot wasn’t there—and never before had John been more grateful for the blonde’s need to go on exorbitantly long walks out of the compound. “Quick and easy.”

“Well,” John said, “that is what I had thought you intended before, yet here we are, with him still on our hands.”

“We are lucky that our brother cares so much as to run our deputy through such trials,” Joseph interceded serenely, before a spat could break out. “And that she passed. With flying colors, I think.”

“That’s a little generous.”

“At any rate, that we’ve moved up this celebration for her is good,” the blonde continued. “I hear that the Family may not all be finished. Jacob mentioned that his scouts saw movement, out close to the Whitetails.”

John frowned. No good, he thought, but then—what about all of those dead couples he and Elliot had seen? Paired, holding hands, flowers blooming from wherever they could fit them? How was it determined which ones would off themselves and which ones stuck around?

“Now that we have all of the supplies we need,” Jacob said, “we don’t have to worry about getting rid of them.” He shrugged. “Let the apocalypse finish them off.”

“Well.” John clapped his hands together. “I’ve quite a day to prepare for tomorrow, I think. And when it’s all done, we’ll be ready to settle in.”

Joseph and Jacob exchanged looks, just for a moment, before Jacob said, “Night, Johnny,” and set off, leaving Joseph alone in front of the doorway to the bunkhouse. When he looked at John, his expression unreadable, something uneasy crawled and settled down at the base of his spine.

“I have something for you,” Joseph said. “Come with me to the chapel?”

Trying not to recognize that dread, lest he give it more legs than it already had, John nodded his head. “Of course. Though, you know you never have to…”

“It’s the least I could do,” his brother interjected lightly, waiting patiently as he closed the door to his temporary base of operations and then fell into step with him to the chapel. The evening was brisk and chilly, and when Joseph said, “And where is our deputy?” John stifled a rueful smile.

“Taking a walk, with Faith,” John replied. “And the dog, of course.”

“Of course.” He saw a smile ticking the corner of his brother’s mouth, small and almost imperceptible. “It’s nice that they get along, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he agreed, “like she was always meant to be with us.”

Joseph paused outside the chapel’s doors, reaching up and giving John’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just like.”

They stepped inside. It was cool and quiet; nobody remained. The radio flickering through channels was the only noise, and they rang empty and static, not a peep out there. He wondered if the remaining members of the Family were just looking for a place to rest, or a way to get out; maybe they didn’t want anything, anymore.

He followed his brother to the front of the chapel. On the table was the map they’d been using, a few scribbled notes in Jacob’s hand-writing, and a manila envelope.

Joseph picked up the envelope and held it out to John. He took it, and then glanced inquisitively up at his brother.

“Is this—?”

“Her file,” Joseph confirmed. “What we gathered on her prior to the Collapse. Also in there are my notes from her confession, as well as what appears to be diary entries, recovered from where Kian had tried to hunt the two of you.”

Holy shit, John thought, because sitting in his hands was the exact thing that he’d wanted from the beginning. Everything that he wanted to know about Elliot was right there: waiting to be read, devoured, committed to memory. He would know every single part of her, every wretched thing she had ever done, every loss she had ever suffered, every—

“And,” Joseph continued, “your marriage certificate.”

John glanced up at his brother. Suddenly, the envelope felt—different. Like an ultimatum. If he learned all of this about Elliot, and she got suspicious because he suddenly knew so much about her, and she asked where he found out and he told her—and he would have to tell her—she’d want to see it and then. And then.

And then.

“I think it’s time, John,” his brother said. “I know that you haven’t told our deputy about this arrangement. She is your wife, after all, before the eyes of this congregation and God.”

“Right,” John murmured, swallowing. “Yeah, of course. I planned on it. After tomorrow. It feels fitting, to tell her then.”

Maybe it would be better to tell her in the bunker, he thought absently, and then shoved that immediately away. No, fuck, no, I have to tell her. Tomorrow, after we finish everything.

“Good.” Joseph smiled, and for the first time in a long time he smiled with teeth, and the expression on his brother’s face almost unnerved him. He reached up, and his fingers brushed the nape of John’s neck, tilting him forward so that their foreheads pressed together.

Relief, hot and overwhelming, washed straight through him. They had been so at odds that John thought he might have forgotten what it was like to be in his brother’s good graces, but here he was.

“I am so proud of all that you have done for me, for our family, for Eden’s Gate.” Joseph’s voice rang in the hollow of his bones, vibrating straight through him, spiking in him a delirious rush of pride. “You have done so well, John, despite all that God has done to test you.”

Oh, there it was: everything in him said, finally, finally, finally, someone sees me, and he was reminded of why it was he owed Joseph so much. Because he gave him this.

“I’m—” John felt the words choke and stutter on the way out of him. It was almost too much—the finish line was in sight. Elliot had said, you can’t have both, but he could. He could, and he was going to, and it was here right in front of him.

Waiting.

“Thank you,” he managed out. “Thank you, Joseph. I only ever wanted to make you proud.”

“I know.” Joseph smiled, hand pressed against the back of John’s head, holding him gently. “I know.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leaving the chapel, John was cruising on cloud nine; he had everything. Everything. Nobody was going to take it from him. No stupid cult, no last-minute hail mary’s from the opposing team—

As he passed by a window into the bunkhouse that had been Elliot’s before Burke had made it his home, John stopped and leaned against the siding of the house, tapping on the window. Burke was sitting at the table, leaned back, eyes closed; when the sound of John’s finger against the glass rattled again, he opened one eye.

John waved, and grinned. “Hi, bud.”

Burke stared at him. He gestured for the Marshal to push his window up, and after a few exasperated gestures, he did—reluctantly.

“Seed,” he said, tiredly. “Particular reason you’re not fuckin’ off?”

“Just wanted to stop by,” John replied slyly. “See how you were holding up. The impending apocalypse must be weighing heavily on you.”

Burke stared at him for a moment. He worked a toothpick between his teeth. His hands and feet were both cuffed, and the guards standing outside of the bunkhouse seemed to be concerned with his tone when he said, “Can’t wait to beat that shit-eating grin off of your face.”

“That’s not very professional,” John drawled. “Won’t that look poorly, in front of all of your little friends?”

“They’ll avert their eyes to let me give you some extra special attention.” Burke lifted his chin, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and spitting out the window, nearly landing on John’s shoes. “Promise.”

Impudent, John thought. Burke really just couldn’t let him have a moment, could he? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Marshal,” he said, straightening up from the window and taking a step away. “I like it rough.”

And then he paused, turning on his heel like a swivel and lifted a finger thoughtfully.

“If you want some pointers on what I like,” he added pleasantly, “you can always ask Elliot.”

Burke’s eyes narrowed. “Your little brainwashed cultist? I think I’ll pass.” he asked, and John’s smile plummeted, wiped off of his face.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he hissed. “You’re the failing party here, Cameron Burke. You’re going to be the one suffering when the End comes for you.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Burke replied, “better get goin’, shouldn’t you?”

John’s teeth snapped together with a click, pain shooting up through his jaw as his molars ground. Petulant and arrogant, all the way to the very end, wasn’t he? He supposed that made it a little bit better that Jacob was going to off him.

He had everything he wanted, and not even Cameron Burke was going to take that from him.

John flashed a smile, all teeth, and held his arms out. “I suppose I should,” he replied. “Have a nice ceremony tomorrow to prepare. Though, I don’t have to tell you—you’ll be there for it, won’t you? A front row seat and all.”

Even in the dark of the growing evening, he could see Burke’s jaw clench. The Marshal pulled back from the window and slammed it shut, signaling his exit from the conversation; if John had been in a worse mood, he would have stormed right in there and shown Burke exactly what the consequences were for trying to run the show.

But there wasn’t time, because just as he was debating the logistics of doing so, he heard a dog barking in the distance and the sound of familiar voices.

“Hi, John,” Faith sing-songed at him, swinging Elliot’s hand in her own as they approached. “Isn’t it a bit late? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” John replied with a quick smile, which was not necessarily a lie.

“Too excited,” his sister agreed playfully. 

As they approached, he could see the circles beneath Elliot’s eyes had darkened. She really wasn’t sleeping, was she? Reaching up with his free hand as soon as she was close enough, he brushed some loose strands of hair from her face and guided her close, his fingers tangling into her hair at the base of her skull and his mouth finding her temple. Faith giggled and waved her fingers at Elliot, breezing past him on her way to the chapel.

He asked, “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“It was dark,” Elliot replied, by way of explanation. Boomer sniffed around their feet and then cocked his head, listening while his eyes fixed on the dark treeline. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” John asked, distracted by Boomer’s sudden alertness. “Oh, the envelope?”

“No, John, this stupid fucking Hot Topic belt I’ve seen you wear all the time.” Elliot pulled back to look at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Yes, the envelope.”

He opened his mouth to respond, trying to decide if he wanted to be upfront with her about it or not; he was so caught up in his decision that he didn’t even have the time to be offended by her remark about his belt before he said, “We should go back to our house, don’t you think? The company here’s a little sour.”

Elliot’s gaze swept around curiously, and when she spotted Burke through the window, she said, “Ah.”

“You never did tell me how your talk went,” he added, taking her hand and beginning to pull her away. “Good? Bad?”

The blonde watched him for a moment, like he’d said something a little too suspicious. “It really bothers you when you don’t know what exactly is going on, doesn’t it?”

John feigned a pleased smile. “It’s my job to know what’s going on.”

“I thought it was your job to talk incessantly?”

“I am multi-faceted.”

They reached the door to their shared space—and that was a nice little thought, their space, like they had a place that belonged to the two of them—and as Elliot stepped inside, she said, “Burke wanted to know what had happened.”

John closed the door behind them, pausing and looking at her for a moment; he tried to glean any insight he could out of her expression, but he couldn’t. He could only see quiet exhaustion sitting on her face, just there, just within his reach.

“And?” he prompted, when she failed to elaborate. She walked into the bathroom and turned the water on, washing her face; quickly, John opened the envelope and thumbed through the documents until he found what he was looking for. He slid the paper beneath the nightstand beside the bed and shut the envelope, smoothing the metal pins out. There, he thought, like it was never opened.

“I told him the truth,” Elliot replied from the bathroom, shutting the water off. “About the Family. About—you. And your siblings.”

“Well, he did refer to you as my ‘little brainwashed cultist’, so I imagine that conversation didn’t go well.”

The blonde stepped out of the bathroom, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him for a moment. That was answer enough, he supposed—whatever friendliness had lingered between Elliot and Burke seemed to have been decimated by the reality of their situation.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“It’s your file,” John said, plainly. Elliot’s jaw tensed.

“My file,” she reiterated.

“Yes. All of the things Joseph had on you before, including your confession to him and some papers they found in Kian’s bag of belongings. Back in the woods.”

Her eyes flickered, and she exhaled, long and tired. He could tell that she didn’t like that he had it. She had so desperately tried to keep him from knowing what it was that haunted her, though he had mostly pieced it together by now—an ex-boyfriend gone bad, the resulting fallout, all wadded up into a tiny ball of trauma that sat right in her ribs. All of those times Elliot had tried to cling to those shreds of control—and everything about her had been handed to him in a manila envelope. He imagined that it was quite frustrating.

John offered, “I haven’t looked at it.”

“Why not?”

“I thought,” he began, carefully, “that you might want it. For yourself.”

Elliot looked at him warily. “You’re just going to give it to me?”

“Elliot,” he said as he closed the space between them, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’ll give you anything you want.” John reached up, brushing his fingers against the slope of her neck, feeling the way her pulse jumped at the contact. “Besides, I have you. What do I need the file for?”

He wanted it. He wanted to read her file, learn every gritty detail about her, memorize them the same way she’d memorized his scars and tattoos with her fingers; to know her, inside and out, so that there wasn’t a single dark corner of her that he didn’t have completely.

“Throw it away,” Elliot murmured. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it anywhere. Please, just throw it away.”

“If that’s what you really want,” John agreed.

“It is.”

She leaned up and kissed him; her hands cradling his jaw and pulling him there, her mouth soft and compliant against his. He dropped the envelope in favor of getting both of his hands on her, walking her back against the nearest wall and sliding his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. Elliot’s breath stuttered and hitched prettily, but she pulled back until her mouth was just out of his reach.

Still, though her head was tilted otherwise, her fingers tugged on the front of his shirt and crowded him against her, close. If he thought about it too hard—about the way they had begun, hissing and spitting, and how they were now—he’d have thought he was dreaming, how she wanted him in her space now.

“Let’s go,” the blonde said, her voice urgent. “Tonight. To the ranch.”

“You—” John paused, watching her. “You want to go tonight? Why not tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to be here,” she murmured, “in the compound. I want—”

Elliot stopped, then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “I want to have some time,” she continued, “with you, before... Everything. Just us.” Her mouth twisted in what John thought could only be a playful smile. “Like old times.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, narrowing his eyes amusedly. “Which times are those? The times where you told me to go fuck myself, or—”

“I think you liked it.”

“Your mouth is one of my favorite things about you, yes.”

“So,” she continued, “can we go tonight?”

John, propped up against the wall with her caged between his arms, studied her for a moment. It wouldn’t be bad to get some time away from the compound that wasn’t some kind of macabre venture out into Fall’s End, haunting her with all of the things she used to have and had once been.

“Sure,” he said finally, “I don’t see why not. Just a little time for us.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Though he had been less than thrilled about the idea of Elliot being outside of the compound, Jacob had confirmed that the ranch was cleaned out of bodies and ready for them. When they swept past Burke in the bunkhouse, watching them through the window, John’s eyes went to Elliot—trying to see if there was anything in her expression, trying to see if there was a blink of affection or recognition.

There wasn’t. Elliot walked past without looking at the U.S. Marshal and swung into the driver’s side of the truck, and when John reached across the console to drop the keys in her hand, her gaze and expression were clear of any cloudiness.

When they got to the ranch, it was quiet; the lights had been left on, and while John knew that the bodies were gone and cleaned out, he still braced himself for impact when they walked in. The bookshelf had been righted again, and the strong smell of cleaning solution lingered in the air, but for the most part, everything was exactly where he’d left it.

It was a shame, then, that soon they’d be slipping underground.

“Bleach,” Elliot said, walking up the stairs after him. “How romantic.”

“It’s your mess they were cleaning,” John replied dryly, flashing her a grin over his shoulder. “In case you forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

He pushed the door open to the master bedroom, taking in a little breath and turning to look at Elliot. She was inspecting the room, and for a second, John almost felt self-conscious—that she was here, now, with him. In his home. Touching his things. Looking at him.

It was almost unnerving to think about; that some time ago, she had been viciously looking for any way out. But of course, she had come around. She was always going to come around, one way or another. He thought about the way she’d spit Go fuck yourself, John, the way she’d tried her hardest to be as obtuse and unhelpful as possible, how she’d said in the bar you can’t have both but here he was.

Here she was.

There was only one thing left standing in the way, and it was something he had all the power in the world to change if he wanted to.

“What are you thinking about?” the blonde asked, arching a brow at him loftily.

“You,” John said, and it wasn’t a lie. Her lashes fluttered and she almost looked shy, for a moment; when he reached out and tugged her close by the belt loop of her jeans, he added, “What do you think about getting married?”

With her hands steadying herself on his chest, she barked out a laugh. “In general? Or us getting married?”

“Primarily the latter.”

“I—” Elliot blinked, and shook her head. “I don’t... What do you mean, what do I think about us getting married?”

“Do you like the idea?” John prompted. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the slope of her jaw.

“We’ve barely been together,” she murmured. “And—you still piss me off.”

“That’s amore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot groaned, and John grinned, sliding his arms around her to pull her closer still. He hoisted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed; when he’d settled her there, on her back and with her legs looped loosely around his waist, she watched him for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to get married.”

John cocked his head. “Not even once?”

“Not even once.”

“And why not?”

“Why would I?” she retorted. “The only marriage I ever saw was my dad dragging my mama’s credit through the dirt and then fucking off the second he got tired of playing house. Giving up my last name to someone? Letting someone take that away from me?”

John leaned down, pushing her sweater up and pressing his mouth to the curve of her hip cutting up and over her jeans. Her breath stuttered for a moment, and she squirmed when he let his tongue slide along one of her scars.

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he said, “but marriage isn’t all about giving. It’s about receiving, too.”

He watched the heat crawl into her cheeks, undoing the button of her jeans and sliding them down until they pooled on the floor with a whisper. She said she’d never wanted to get married, but he thought after tomorrow—after she saw how beautiful it would be, to have her sin revealed and in the open—she would change her mind. For him, she would.

Elliot let out a sharp, stuttering breath. “Come here,” she said, tugging on him a little to guide him back up to her. He obliged, and she tangled her fingers into his hair and kissed him; long and patient, lips parting beneath his and her tongue flickering playfully against his mouth. She skimmed her fingers along his chest, down until she could undo his belt and pull it from the loops, discarding it on the floor.

“Miss Honeysett,” John murmured.

“John,” she replied, as her fingers deftly undid his jeans.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“You did take my pants off.”

He laughed, the sound sweeping out of him just before Elliot pulled him down into another kiss. She shifted and squirmed against him, pushing and working with her fingers until they were skin on skin. There was a second, a heartbeat of time, where Elliot paused, her gaze flickering over him.

“I want—a home,” she said, her voice quiet, “with you. I don’t have one anymore, and I...”

John dragged his fingers along the exposed skin of her sternum, down and down and down, and she sucked in a sharp little breath the second he found exactly he was looking for.

“You have it,” he replied against her mouth, and a spike of heat sprinted up his spine when he beckoned his fingers against her and she whimpered. “You have it, El, I told you—”

Elliot’s nails dug into his shoulder and she said, “John,” and her voice plunged a little when she did, pitching high and sweet and just the way that he liked it; he mouthed a spot on her neck, sighing against her skin.

“Love those sounds you make,” he murmured. “So good for me.”

“Yes,” Elliot said breathlessly, turning her head so that their noses could brush, “yes, I am, for you—so, please—”

So, please, she said, so sweetly, wanting and hurting and needy as she clutched him, as her breath hitched in anticipation when John pressed up against her, slow and without urgency.

“Is this what you wanted to come here for?” John rumbled against her mouth, breathing unsteady. “So I could f—fuck you in peace and quiet?”

The blonde moaned her agreement as she kissed him. Her body arched up against his, impatient, and when he finally pressed into her all the way, she let out a sigh, her fingers twisting in his hair.

It was too good; too tight, too hot, and the way Elliot held him close, like she thought she was going to disappear if she didn’t keep her grip on him, made the trickle of heat turn into a wildfire splitting through his body. He groaned, the pace excruciating and delicious as he made sure to take each drag as slow as possible.

“F-Fucking—faster,” Elliot whimpered against his mouth, “John—”

“No,” he ground out, slotting his hips against hers tightly before drawing back out again. “You have to—I want you just like this, hellcat—”

She made a sweet keening noise and rocked her hips up, impatient; each time she did sent another sharp jolt of desire sprinting through him, and he bit out a low swear and gripped her hip with one hand.

“Brat,” he moaned. “Wants everything her way but can’t—f-fucking—behave.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot replied, but there was no real heat in her words; she said it in a broken, stuttering breath. “What if I want you faster? What if I want you to fuck me until you just can’t stand it—”

“Stop.” John gritted the words out between his teeth; if there was one thing that sent him to his undoing, it was Elliot and her filthy mouth. “God, you—fucking—”

Elliot dragged him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and slick and wanting, and she begged, “John, I want you so badly—I need—”

And her words stuttered for a moment, like she was catching herself before she could say something that she thought might be embarrassing. John’s hand came up and pressed to her jaw, tilting her face back to him so that he could see her; gazing at him through her lashes, flushed and lips kiss-reddened and eyes dreamy and dazed.

“Tell me,” he managed out, through the haze of his own pleasure. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” Elliot moaned, “I need you, John.”

“Fuck,” John ground out. He was powerless to go against her wishes when she was looking at him like that, and saying I need you, and twisting her fingers in his hair and—

And when he snapped into her, she sighed his name like a prayer, like he was holy, and he thought that it would have been a crime not to give her what she wanted. It was almost as good as taking it slow; hearing Elliot whimper yes yes yes into their liplock as he fucked her, rough and a little unforgiving, nearly sent him spiraling.

When he slipped a hand between them, dragging the pad of his thumb across the neediest part of her, he felt her tighten; closecloseclose, it said, and Elliot made a wrecked, desperate sound and kissed him just as she came unraveled, panting his name.

His followed close behind—it hit hard, a strange, empty moment just before the ricocheting pleasure rattled around in his skeleton. John buried his face into Elliot’s neck and moaned, gripping her tight to him, and she arched up a little into him and made him hiss.

“You,” he said breathlessly into her neck, “are getting too comfortable using that filthy mouth of yours to get what you want.”

She laughed, raking her fingers through his hair. “You like it.”

“I’ve said that I do.”

“How much?” Elliot idled, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Wicked thing, aren’t you?” he asked, instead of answering her question. Her lashes fluttered, and when John leaned down and dragged his teeth against her pulse point, she made a soft, sweet sound, squirming in his arms.

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced. Having disentangled themselves and slipped under the covers, she settled back against the pillows and he was reminded, once again, of the dark circles lingering under her eyes. “Feels like I have slept a fucking wink in the compound.”

“Fine,” John agreed, kissing her temple. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, anyway.”

It took some time for them to fall asleep; Elliot slept more fitfully than he, and each time she shifted or sighed or rolled it woke him up, too. Eventually, the blonde settled with her face tucked against John’s chest, her fingers absently tracing over the shape of his scar until her breathing slowed and she drifted back off.

Sometime around three in the morning, she stirred, sliding out of bed and making her way to the bathroom. John reached over to the nightstand and picked up his watch to squint at it in the dark. He heard the sink running, and the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.

“Can’t believe it’s almost the end of November,” he said, out loud and to no one in particular, though Elliot’s head peeked out of the bathroom. She’d wrapped herself in his robe, cinching it tight around her waist.

“It is?” she asked, tiredly. “What’s the date?”

“The twenty-first.”

Elliot stilled for a moment. A strange emotion swept over her face; he thought that it was almost sadness. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

John set the watch back down on the nightstand. “Well, perfect timing then. I just gave you an incredible birthday present. How old are you turning? And why do you look so terribly distressed?”

“Fuck off,” she muttered when he grinned at her. “Twenty-six, asshole.” And then, like an afterthought: “It’s just that normally by now, I’m—”

The blonde cut herself off, and then shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly and walking back into the bathroom to turn the water off.

“Elliot?” he called. “What is it?”

“Just weird,” she replied after a minute, “being... Having a birthday. Here. Like this.”

He settled back against the pillow. “Come back to bed.”

She did as he asked, obliging him as she slid back under the blankets and covers. The robe was still on, and he pulled at the hem of it playfully. Elliot somehow looked more tired than before; and her eyes didn’t quite meet his, like she was somewhere very far away from him.

“Looks good on you,” he murmured. “Blue’s your color.”

Elliot’s attention snapped to him. “Faith said the same thing.”

“Great minds.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting to the other side in bed so that John could tug her back against his chest, burying his face into her neck. When her breathing finally slowed a little, and regulated, John felt himself finally start to relax.

I can have both, he thought, as he began to drift back off. I can, and I will.

｡☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆｡

When Elliot awoke the next morning, the first thing that she thought was, I’m late.

It hit her differently in the cold light of day, to think her period was delayed. That’s probably what it was, anyway—a delay. Lots of things could fuck around with the timing of a period, right?

The second thing she thought was, today’s the day.

Things did seem oddly calm, as they went about their morning; they showered, and John kissed her smelling like expensive soap, and his hands went to the places he loved the most—her hips, her hair, her jaw. It was like they’d fallen into a routine with each other, in just this short period of time; but then, she supposed, that was very natural to have happened, considering that they spent so much time with each other now.

“We should do it downstairs,” Elliot said as John busied himself with some coffee. Boomer had sprinted outside at the first opportunity, taking off into the treeline to burn some of his energy off.

“Downstairs?” he asked, glancing at her. “In the room?”

“Seems fitting.”

He shrugged, sliding a cup of coffee her way and leaning across the counter. “Whatever you want, baby.”

The sound of car doors closing and voices outside stirred her attention away from John’s mouth—a wholly distracting thing—but when she turned to see the Seeds walking through the front door of the ranch, she felt her stomach plummet.

“Brought a plus one,” Jacob announced, shoving Burke forward. “Hope you don’t mind.” He fixed Elliot with his gaze. “Caught him snooping around the chapel. Isn’t that weird?”

“I—” Elliot’s brain fuzzed viciously, static biting through all other noise. Burke’s lip was split and he had a nasty black eye forming. Oh, no, she thought, oh, no, no, no, no. This is so fucking bad.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I couldn’t trust anyone to keep an eye on him, so unfortunately, that is now my job.”

“No,” Elliot said abruptly, drawing all eyes on her. “I’m—I don’t want him here.”

“Elliot,” John murmured.

“Then what do you propose I do with him?” Jacob demanded.

“I don’t know, that isn’t my fucking job,” she snapped. With the siblings all looking at her, Burke took a second and very gently, very resolutely, shook his head no.

Her mind went frantic. What does that mean? Does that mean stop kicking up a fuss? Does that mean he got to the radio? Or that he didn’t? What the fuck is the plan, now?

Joseph said, gentle, “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to lose track of him, Elliot.”

She felt fingers brushing hers. John had come around the kitchen island, and now their fingers were interlaced. It felt like she was on some kind of precipice, some great, plunging cliff into a void, and all she could do was stand by hopelessly as everything pushed her towards the edge.

She didn’t want Burke to watch. She didn’t want him to see her let John carve WRATH into her skin, but most of all—most of all, she didn’t want Burke to see that maybe it would feel good, for her, a catharsis.

“Fine,” she managed out after a moment, watching Burke’s eyes flutter shut in what might have been relief. Or suffering. “Fine, whatever.”

“Well,” Joseph murmured, “shall we get started? There’s a full day ahead of us.”

As they moved down the stairs, Elliot swallowed thickly and tried to clear and compose her brain. Everything did feel just a little bit like it was too much. Joseph there, his shoulder brushing hers; Faith and John, chatting like it was nothing to have her sit down in a chair in the middle of the room where she had been kept captive; Jacob, shoving Burke into the room and on his knees.

It was too much. She would just have to pray that Burke had gotten a chance with the radio before Jacob found him.

“We’re going to have to take your shirt off,” John said, moving into her vision, and didn’t sound like he regretted that in the least. A little rush of relief coursed through her when she realized she’d be able to focus on someone familiar—none of Joseph’s prying eyes or Faith’s sweet smiles to unsettle and unseat her. Just her, and John.

“How long is this going to take?” Burke asked, his voice bordering on vicious. Jacob gave him a little jostle.

“Why? You got somewhere to be, friend?”

Elliot barely heard them. Her eyes, her thoughts, were on John; when her shirt was discarded to the side, he skimmed his fingers along her sternum, eyes bright.

“It’s going to look so good,” he murmured, and she knew that he wasn’t paying attention to them, either. He’d seemed disappointed when she asked someone else to be there, but now, it didn’t seem like it mattered at all. “Ready?”

She nodded, feeling a little swoon of adrenaline kick through her body when John left the room and returned with a knife. John looked at her expectantly. The physical acquiescence wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” Elliot said, and John’s eyes fluttered closed just for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed her—hard and open-mouthed, his fingers bruising where they gripped her shoulder.

“Fucking Christ,” Burke ground out, and John pulled away with a wicked grin.

“You and me,” he murmured against her lips, and she nodded.

John sat down. Over his shoulder she could see Burke, sitting on his knees, his face resolutely turned to the side. She turned her gaze away, too, because she didn’t want to see—didn’t want to see Burke sitting there, biting his tongue and trying not to look at her, look at her scars and the one John was going to give her and—

The sting of the first cut barely registered through the fog of her brain. It didn’t quite hit, and then her eyes flickered down and she saw the first stream of red, and it really hit, immediately slicing through the fog of adrenaline to hit sharper, harder, nastier.

Elliot exhaled a stuttering breath. It felt exactly the same as she remembered; it wasn’t so soft, on her chest like this, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation to her either. Something in her brain tripped at the pain, neurons firing rapidly; we know you, they said, as John meticulously carved the W into her skin, we know you, pain, we missed you, missed you missed you missed you.

“John,” she said, because there was a burst of panic going off in her brain like fireworks. The two parts of her—the one that self-preserved, and the one that craved this exact sting and bite—wrestled with the reality of her situation: that she was both doing and not doing the thing she had tried to deprogram out of herself.

“So good, hellcat,” John murmured, his eyes fixed on his work as he started on the R. He was fixated; he was somewhere far away from her, even as close as he was. “It’s going to look so good on you.”

And behind him, Jacob said, “C’mon, Burke, don’t you want to see what your little deputy asked for?”

“Fuck. You,” Burke bit out.

The sting, the bite; the push and pull. Elliot breathed her way through each excruciating moment, and they were excruciating, these moments, because John was utilizing every second that he had her here, like this.

And that was fine. She needed him to; both for her sake, and for Burke’s. 

Something sounded like thundering up ahead, distant but out of place. It gave her a little jolt of panic. If that was what she thought it was, then—

Elliot saw Jacob’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling, narrowing; she managed out, “Slow down,” just as John paused too, to draw his attention back to her. 

“Slower?” John asked, and the way he said it felt intimate, with his eyes fixed on her and his fingers red with her blood.

“Please,” Elliot breathed. Jacob looked at her for a moment, long and hard, but she didn’t meet his eyes; only looked at John, only waited patiently for him to begin.

After a moment, John said, his voice pitched low, “Anything you want.”

“I’ll be back,” Jacob said. He dropped his hand from Burke’s shoulder; John made a non-committal uh-huh sound, finishing off the unsteady cross of the T. She hissed, squirming in her seat at the pain, drawing Jacob’s attention for just a second long before he made his way out of the room.

The H followed next. As soon as he finished, John pulled back to admire his work; there was still a bit of bruising, but most of it was up on her shoulder, not her chest, which was now doused in crimson. Wiping his hands off with a towel, he beamed at her; all teeth and bright eyes.

“What a relief, don’t you think?” Joseph asked, his voice idle and distracted as he glanced up at the ceiling inquisitively. “To have it all out there.”

John flashed a smile at his brother, clearly pleased. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said to Elliot, coming to a stand. “We’ll have to let it heal for a while to see how it’s going to scar, and then we can go back in and—”

Before John could finish his sentence, Elliot heard the sound of car doors slamming outside, and Jacob’s voice, asking something in a demand, and then a volley of responses: it was hard to hear, a floor down, but she thought they were saying get down, get down.

“What is going on?” Joseph asked, his voice verging on something other than cool and calm, and the sound of it filled Elliot with a bright spark of joy: yes, she thought viciously, coming to a stand and feeling around for her shirt while her eyes stayed on the Seeds, yes, you fucking cockroach, squirm.

“I don’t know,” John said, stepping toward the door. “Stay here.”

He only took two more steps before the sound of Jacob shouting something above them, followed by a gunshot, and then a loud cacophony of footsteps above them.

“Jacob,” Faith breathed, her eyes wide and panicked. “Something’s happened, Father, we have to—”

“Stay,” John barked out, suddenly all business as he was hauling Burke up to his feet. “I think our friend the Marshal would like to take a look first, make sure nothing is dangerous.”

But Burke was grinning when his feet righted themselves on the ground. He sucked his teeth, looked directly at Joseph, and said, “Time’s up, fuckhead.”

Burke’s words send her stomach somersaulting. So he had gotten to the radio. He had, just in time, which meant he’d been caught just after, and now—

Now he was here, and so were all of the Seeds, too.

I fucking did it, she thought hazily, bracing herself on the chair. Holy shit. I fucking did it.

The sound of footsteps storming down the stairs made John’s eyes flicker to the doorway, and he let go of Burke, gripping the bloodied towel loosely in his hands.

Her heart was thundering in her chest. It was hard to think through the haze of pain, the stinging and burning of the cuts on her chest, but it was there, if she tried hard enough to look: hope.

But Joseph wasn’t looking at John. He was looking at Elliot.

“You,” the Father hissed, as Elliot pulled the shirt away from her chest, sticky-wet with blood. “You did this. I know you did, you fucking locust, I knew it the second you stepped foot in my chapel—brought us all here, rounded us up like lambs for the slaughter—”

“What do you mean?” John demanded. “Elliot has been with me since this whole—”

Things moved very quickly, then: through the fog of pain, Elliot heard one, two, three heavy thuds against the door before wood splintered and came crashing down, the instant array of green sights set on them—all of them, her included—and the sound of voices demanding their hands go up.

Elliot watched Joseph, hands at his sides.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Joseph ground out, his voice vicious, the rage splitting across his face almost as delicious as the fear. Faith was crying, and saying something through her tears, as John lifted his hands obediently.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of the SWAT members hauling Burke out of the room first. She looked at Joseph and arched a brow at him, lifting her hands obediently when the order was shouted again. 

“Oh, Father,” she sighed, her voice cloying and sweet and just between the two of them, “did God not tell you about this part?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things were going poorly.

That is to say, Jacob had a gunshot to the shoulder that was currently being patched while he was in handcuffs—“Can’t have you bleeding out on us, can we?” the medic said, a little too gleefully, until Jacob said something along the lines of I’m gonna rip your fucking face off—and Faith was crying, and Joseph was seething, furiously whispering to himself and held in place by one of the other U.S. Marshals.

Elliot was in cuffs, too, but Burke seemed to be talking furiously with the man who had cuffed her, occasionally interrupted when Elliot would try and draw his attention back to John.

This won’t do, he thought, as panic pounded through his body, as his heart hammered against his chest. All of his siblings, in handcuffs, and Elliot too; she was, too, but she looked—

Fine.

She looked fine, and he thought about what she’d said. You can’t have both, and then she’d immediately gone back on that. Of course she had. Of course, because she was wretched and wicked and clever, and she had never truly let go of her hatred for Joseph, but they were married. They were married, and the U.S. government was going to know about it before they stuck her on a stand to testify against any of his siblings.

“I need to speak to her,” John said to the officer holding him. “The woman, there. That’s my—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” the man replied sharply, “except shut your mouth and wait patiently for us to load you and the rest of your fucking brood into the van.”

“She’s my wife,” John bit out viciously. “And she’s in cuffs, I would like to speak with my wife—”

“What did you just say?”

It was Elliot’s voice, sharp and clear and splitting through the distance between them. In the chilly Autumn afternoon, John felt the spike of pure adrenaline race through him at her tone, at the way her head snapped to him and she shouldered her way past Burke. The officer had taken her cuffs off.

Burke said, “Rookie,” in warning, but it didn’t matter, John knew; they had never been able to ignore each other, in love or in war.

“I said,” John reiterated, “you’re my wife.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Elliot demanded.

“That night,” he began urgently, “that night that you were feeling unwell after your walk with Faith, and we talked about leaving—”

Elliot started, her voice hitching, “John, what did you do—”

“—we talked about other things, too,” he plunged on. “I didn’t tell you, Elliot. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be the right time. I was going to tell you today, after we were done—I was going to tell you that we talked about it and I asked you if you wanted to marry me, and you told me yes—”

“Stop,” she moaned, agonized. “Stop—fucking—talking—you didn’t, John, you fucking didn’t lie to me again about this thing that you know I hate—”

“And you signed the certificate. It’s back at the compound,” John finished, trying to lean around the officer. “We’re married. You and me, hellcat, just like we say, you and—”

He saw the slap coming before it hit, but it definitely took a few seconds for the pain to actually register in his brain. And oh, then it hit; Elliot had swung her hand with the same amount of force she might have if she were close-fist punching him, but her palm connected with this side of his face and sent a sharp, red-hot shot of pain blooming and blurring behind his eyes.

Dazed, John blinked and tried to focus his attention again as the officer jostled him out of her reach. He was vaguely aware of Burke moving toward them as Elliot gritted out between her teeth, “How fucking dare you.”

“Ell,” John said, and there was blood in his mouth, his lip split from the impact of her hand. “Listen to me—”

Burke, louder and closer: “Elliot.”

“No, you listen to me, you fucking rat!” Elliot’s voice was pitching higher in volume, and higher in frequency and hysteria. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I told you, I fucking told you what was going to happen if you lied to me again—you fucking—I’m going to fucking kill you—”

John saw Burke sling an arm around Elliot’s waist just as she lunged again, seething and furious, holding her tight against his chest as she clawed at his arms to get free. His mouth against her hair, he said, “Rookie, take a breath.”

“You take a fucking breath!”

He hauled her, all five feet and four inches of her, turning her away from John, like breaking her eyesight with him would save him the trouble of having to cuff her.

“Elliot,” John called, trying to lean past the officer, “I forgive you—”

“Fuck! You!”

“—marriage is hard work, but I know,” he continued, grinning when she finally pulled herself out of Burke’s grip, “that you’re just the woman for the job.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Every line in her expression was pulled tight with fury, and yes—John thought he should have told her sooner, maybe, but if she was going to find out, what better time to find out than in front of the very men who wanted to put her on the stand?

“Don’t you remember what you said last night? You need me,” he tried again, and he could tell the officer holding his shoulders was getting tired of him leaning around all the time. “I love you, Elliot, through sickness and in health, no matter how many—”

“Oh, John,” Elliot breathed out, like she almost couldn’t get a full lungful of air, she was so out of breath. She swayed on her feet exhaustedly, her mouth twisting around the next sentence that came out of her mouth: “I want a fucking divorce.”

The words plunged John straight into a panic, the kind that made it feel like there was a feeding frenzy going on under his skin. This was not how things were supposed to unfold. This was not how it was supposed to go. Elliot was going to be upset, sure—but he had taken great pains to make sure that she knew he was the only thing left for her, after it all. She was supposed to upset, and then see that it had been for her, it was always for her, for them. Everything he’d done, every step he’d taken, every—

She’s mine, he thought, his face still stinging, dull and hot, from her slap. Burke was saying something to her. That’s my fucking wife, whether she likes it or not.

No one was going to take her from him. Not Joseph or Jacob, not Cameron Burke, not even her. No one was going to put a serial murderer and the wife of a religious group’s lawyer on the stand. He’d make fucking sure of that.

“You think you’re gonna move on from this, El?” he demanded, managing to shoulder around the officer to make eye contact with her. His voice came out tight, sharp—slowly and purposefully careening, but he hated the strike of strange hysteria that wormed its way in there, too. “I watched you slaughter at least a hundred people in the name of “justice”—you beat a man to death with a blunt object, and you liked it—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Elliot ground out. She made to move at him, nails digging into her palms, but Burke hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her back again, much like before.

“You think you’re gonna move on and meet some nice little country boy who’s gonna love you even with all that fucking red in your ledger?” Oh, he was careening—all of the control slipping out from between his fingers, like sand. “No fucking way, baby, I’m it for you!”

“Rook,” Burke said, but there was no follow-up which made it worse; Burke said one word—one tiny little pet name—and Elliot’s attention immediately snapped to him.

John had never been made to feel like he was nothing; not like this.

“Look at me,” he snapped, and Elliot’s eyes turned to him; but he saw the fury split across her face, the absolute indignant rage. “You’re going to spend one day back in polite society and come unglued, Elliot Honeysett, and when you fucking do—you’ll be begging for me to take you back, and I guarantee you I fucking won’t.”

“That’s enough,” Burke said, but he was speaking to Elliot, looking at her.

“Maybe,” she hissed, pushing at Burke’s arm as blood seeped through the wound on her chest “you should have considered how I would react to you being a pathological liar before you fucking came inside me, you cunt.”

Her words sent a strange, uncomfortable sensation sprinting down his spine. She couldn’t be, John thought, alluding to—

But she had been surprised when he told her it was her birthday, like she hadn’t realized what day it was, and had said something like, normally by now I’m, and just hadn’t finished her thought. 

“Okay.” Burke pulled her back a few more steps, his voice strained. Pulled her away from him. “We’re taking a walk. You and me, Rookie.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” John called after her, panic rising in his voice. “Elliot? Tell me what you—”

“I mean I’m late, fuckhead,” Elliot spit at him over Burke’s shoulder.

The officer pulled him back towards the truck, dragging him by his arm as Burke took Elliot around the corner of the ranch house. His stomach was lurching nauseatingly, trying to piece it together. Had it been long enough? Of course, it had—it had been over a month, probably, maybe even more because he didn’t know how to keep track of time when he’d been drugged and kidnapped and dragged around.

If she is, he thought, frantic; if she does have my child, if she’s—

“John,” Joseph said, his voice eerily quiet as he was pushed into a sitting position across from his brother. He seemed to have recovered from his outburst earlier; there was an odd grimness about his expression. “We must remain focused.”

“She—” John blinked rapidly, trying to gather his fraying, desperate thoughts. “Joseph, she might—”

Joseph lifted a finger to his lips to signal silence. Jacob’s breathing was labored but controlled, and Faith’s gentle crying had been snuffed out. She’d only been the damsel for a few minutes before she tried to storm her way out of their grip.

“The task at hand,” Joseph cautioned him. “Then, we will figure out what to do for your son.”

My son. The words echoed hazily in his brain as the van doors slammed shut, eclipsing them.

“How do you know?” John demanded. “You know? You know that she’s—with my—”

“Of course,” his brother replied, still keeping his voice soft.

“God told me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Take a breath.”

“No.”

“Rookie.” Burke’s voice was hard. “Look at me and take breath.”

She couldn’t. Every inch of her body was screaming—desperate for a reprieve, but there was none to be had because she was still nursing her WRATH wound, because she was heaving out great, panicked breaths between ragged cries.

“I can’t,” Elliot moaned, her hands shaking, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Burke snagged her hand and pressed it to his neck, just like before, but this time it didn’t do anything; this time, she just felt the spiral hit harder, the overwhelming sensation of touching and being touched sending her brain sprinting in panic.

She yanked her hand out of his grip and clutched her knees to her chest, ignoring the warm seep of blood even against the bandages the medic had patched her with and the sting of the pressure of her bones pressed up against the wound.

Burke stayed, and she noticed. He stayed, and he didn’t have to—he was done, free, could leave and go home—but he stayed sitting there with her, against the side of the Seed ranch, wherein many ways, things for her had began.

So, she cried; she sobbed into her jeans until she thought she was going to be dizzy from gasping for air, and Burke stayed, and waited until her hand fumbled for his blindly before he touched her again. His fingers gripped hers, firm and soothing.

“Is it true?” he asked, when she had stopped her crying, when she had breathed so much there was too much oxygen in her brain. His gaze flickered over her. “That you’re… With that fucker’s…”

“I don’t know,” Elliot replied, exhausted. “I’m—fuck, I’m late, and I didn’t realize until yesterday, because it’s been so fucking—”

Burke passed his free hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” and the words came out of her agonized; because she could hear the disappointment in his voice, or what she thought was disappointment. “I thought—I thought he—Burke, I—”

“I know, Rook,” Burke murmured, not unkindly. “Just focus on breathing. I know.”

A few more moments of silence passed between them, filled only with the sound of voices and out and the kick of an engine starting and pulling out from the ranch. After her breathing had evened out again, Burke said, “They’re going to be retrieving Kian’s body.”

Elliot stared at the ground, feeling numb. He didn’t have to say; she knew what that meant. Government officials were going to see what she’d done to Kian. They were going to see it, and see that she was legally married to one of them, and see that she was carrying the child of one of them, and see her history, and all of these things were going to add up.

The picture was not going to be a good one.

“I’ve gotta take you in, Rook,” Burke said quietly. “At the very least, to a therapist.”

She sniffed. I love you, John had said, after he’d lied. Lied, and lied, and lied, and used her, and lied, and if he loved her, he didn’t love her in any way that she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.”

“I know what you’ve been through, and you know I’ll vouch for you. I saw firsthand the kind of—the shit that was going on,” he insisted. “I just—want you to have a realistic picture of what it’s gonna look like, when we get back. They’re gonna autopsy Kian’s body, and—”

She took in a long, suffering breath. “I’m really tired,” Elliot said, her voice breaking a little. “Can we—are we going straight there, or?”

Burke paused, his expression softening, and shook his head. “We’ll hit a motel or two along the way.”

Elliot nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her face back into her knees. She stayed like that for a while; it was hard to tell how much time passed, but eventually, someone came around the corner and said something to Burke, and he tugged her to her feet and walked her to the car.

The sensation of Burke’s hand slipping out of hers sent another burst of panic flooding through her; her body was so tired, so very fucking tired of managing the adrenaline, but the more she tried to calm down the more tired she got.

“I want to stay with you,” she said, feeling hazy and tightening her hand around Burke’s. The Marshal looked at her for a long moment and then nodded.

“Alright, kid,” he murmured, reaching up and squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll stick together.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Time passed differently, after that. Elliot couldn’t have said how long it took them to get to the first motel; it couldn’t have been seconds, or minutes, or months for all that she knew. She was numb when they set her up in a motel room with two beds, she was numb when they checked her scar and redressed it.

“Fucking Christ,” the medic said under his breath when he saw the WRATH wound, still hot and trying its best to scab over. “You poor thing.”

It’s not me, Elliot thought miserably, opening her mouth; but no words would come. All she could think was, I asked for this, I’m not the poor thing, please don’t.

“Hey,” Burke barked out, his voice sharp as he took in Elliot’s crumpling expression. “Let’s get it cleaned and let her sleep, buddy.”

The medic nodded, thoroughly scolded, and worked quickly after that. When he’d finished and she had swallowed two Tylenol dutifully, Burke watched her climb under the covers of the bed and said, “I’ve gotta make a call. You okay in here?”

She swallowed thickly. He was looking at her like he was wary of her. The same way Whitehorse had looked at her.

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a tight, tired smile and then stepped out of the motel room, closing the door behind him. Silence lingered there for a little while; Elliot tried to close her eyes and sleep, her fingers brushing through Boomer’s fur as he dozed, but the low, murmuring sound of Burke talking just outside stirred her anxiety, and each time she closed her eyes she just saw John’s face.

John, holding her face and kissing her, You and me. John, burying his face into her neck, I love you.

John, their noses brushing, We can have a place to belong, Elliot.

John, vicious and unyielding, I’m it for you.

She lurched out of the bed, pushing her way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her just in time to lean over the toilet and throw up whatever was left in her stomach—which wasn’t much, if the amount of dry-heaving were any indication. Bile burned at the back of her throat, and she thought if she didn’t get a breath of air she was going to fucking die.

Elliot pushed the window open and tried to steady her breathing. Rinsing her mouth out in the sink, she shut the water off and paused, looking at herself in the mirror.

The person that looked back at her was unfamiliar. A stranger. She blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself, but each time she did, she felt less and less familiar with the gaunt, sharp-faced, dark-eyed stranger gazing back at her from the mirror. Some bruises along her neck and shoulders still remained.

Who are you? She thought, tiredly. The one that killed all of those peggies? The one that killed Kian? Why don’t I recognize you?

“... understand that, sir, it’s just—if you saw what was going on...”

Burke’s voice drifted in through the window. He must have been pacing, because the volume of his words drifted and moved, as though he were walking around the corner and then back again.

His footsteps paused. “No, I have not read the autopsy report yet. I didn’t think it pertinent at this time, considering we only just—”

She heard Burke’s words cut abruptly, the sound of his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale, and then he said, “Jesus Christ. No, I didn’t know.”

Oh, she thought hazily, oh, he knows. He knows what I did.

Her body moved automatically. Something inside of her kicked—we’re not done yet, it said, ferocious and furious, sinking its teeth into her and operating her body outside of her own executive function. We’re not fucking done yet.

Elliot pulled her sweater and her shoes on. The late autumn chill drifting through the open window made her mind feel sharp, and clear, and she thought, somthing has to be done, and I’ll fucking do it.

She stuffed a couple of things that felt essential into a bag—painkillers, bottles of water from the fridge, Burke’s gun he’d left on the nightstand closest to the door—and then waited until she heard his footsteps pacing around the corner again before she ducked out of the window.

When she looked back, Boomer had already leapt through the window after her. His eyes were on her, bright, ready.

And then she ran.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She’s twenty-six, and she’s in a bar.

Or that’s how it would go, anyway, if she was asleep. If she were dreaming, or remembering. But she wasn’t. Elliot was twenty-six, and she was in a bar, and she wasn’t waiting for her best friend to come back with a different drink, and she wasn’t making eyes at a handsome blue-eyed stranger from across the bar. He wouldn’t come over and call her beautiful, and he wouldn’t make her want to be kissed by someone whose face looked a little sharp, and she wouldn’t one day think that maybe she was in love with him.

I’m just a girl, she thought tiredly, staring at the water glass on the counter in front of her. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

But it was. It was her life. Here she was, sitting in a seedy bar halfway to Georgia, with a U.S. Marshal’s gun she’d lifted sitting in her bag. She’d hitch-hiked a ride back into Fall’s End, grabbed what remained of her things—her ID, what little cash she still had on her, a debit card she was too paranoid to use, dog food—and then she’d taken the jeep parked out behind the Keller’s old place and drove.

And drove. And drove. And drove.

Now, she was twenty-six, sitting in a bar, and there is no Joey coming to rescue her, and there is no John to be a monster that she needed rescuing from.

I’m just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

She left the cash for her water on the bar top, hauling herself out of the stool and back out into the parking lot. It was late; the sky was speckled with stars; if she thought hard enough, if she really thought about, Elliot thought maybe, somewhere inside of her, she was going to be okay.

As she climbed into the driver’s seat of the jeep, Elliot turned the key into the ignition and reached into a grocery store bag on the passenger seat, fumbling around for the cigarettes she’d purchased. Her fingers hit hard plastic and she glanced over.

The two little tiny lines on the pregnancy test stared back at her. Her stomach lurched, nausea welling up inside of her, and she tossed the hard plastic back into the bag and left the cigarettes untouched. Boomer, dozing in the back seat, pricked his ears forward and looked at her inquisitively.

She was just a girl. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. But it was—and there was only one place left to go from here.

Home.

[sweetlilpaulie]

Never Leave Me.

Request for time travel reader, telling the boys about the future.

Reader X John (it was never specified, but I wanted to do John, cause, well... it’s John)

Caution: Language

Enjoy, my cuties.

P.S. Not to get confused, she’s been with the boys for a few months now, so she knows them pretty well.

~~~

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, we like to dream about what life would be like had we done something different, or said something that we held inside. Maybe, even daydream of the possibilities that we know will never happen. I admit to have fantasized on many occasions, to have been born in a different state, with a bigger house and adoring people on my sides, maybe even in a different time.

Funny, I guess I never thought that I’d end up here. Those very daydreams coming to life. To be honest, I still have no idea how I got here, and if the boys ever found out well... I don’t know what I’d do...

“(y/n)!”

Startled, I turned around, quickly shutting my notebook and placing it under a pillow. 

“H-hey.”

Paul smirked.

“What cha been up to in this room for so long ay? Coulda had a whole orgy by now.”

Blushing furiously, I frowned at him. 

“I was...writing, you silly goose. What cha need?” 

Well, John’s been waitin for ya, he won’t say why, says it’s a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Well, alright then.”

Paul and I walked down the stairs into the studio apartment’s tiny parlour. 

John was lounging lazily on the loveseat, his head drifting dangerously downward.

“Oh, Johnny!” chirped Paul loudly.

John’s head snapped up.

“Took ya long enough!”

He grinned, standing up.

My breath hitched. 

Every time, even now, his face always made me stare in wonder. And each time, I have to remember.

He’s alive. 

And he’s mine. 

“Like what you see?” he smirked at my awestruck face.

Not wanting to stroke his ego further, I crossed my arms and cheekily replied “No, but you do.” 

It was then, Paul cleared his throat. 

“Save that for the bedroom, ay? I’m still here, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are ye still doin’ here? Sod off Macca.”

Raising his hands defensively, he left the premises. 

Turning back to me, he smiled once again.

“Come ‘ed. ‘ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Grabbing my hand he pulled me out the backdoor and into the yard. 

I gasped in surprise.

White rose bushes were planted on every side, a tall elegant fountain sitting in the middle.

“You said you wanted a garden...so ‘ere ya are.”

There were cobblestones joined together to create a pathway towards the fountain. By the fountain, was a small table and two chairs, a bowl of strawberries, and a tea set were lying on top of the table.

“All...for me?”

“Yes love, all for ya.” he nuzzled my cheek.

This all keeps getting better and better.

“Well, let’s not keep the grub waitin, shall we?”

He guided me towards the table. Sitting down, he poured some tea in the cup along with a bit of cream and a spoonful of sugar. Stirring it all together, he passed me the cup and saucer. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes in delight.

“Earl Grey, you remembered.”

“How could I forget?” 

Opening my eyes, John had his on mine. My heart started beating faster once again.

“(y/n), the truth is...” he looked down, biting his lip slightly.

“...I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I could open my mouth, he quickly added “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but, I dunno, I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for...oh dear God, that sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’m really not that kind of guy, I don’t want you to think I’m that sort of guy, look...”

“John.” I raised my eyebrows, and he went quiet.

“I should probably tell you something...”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then worry “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little forward, but...please, don’t think I’m gonna push ya in any way, if you don’t love me back I’d understand...”

“JOHN!” 

He shut up once again.

“Good God, Lennon! Calm down. The truth is I love you too.” his eyes widened and a grin spread on his face “Hold up mister, I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else is there you need to say?”

“Uhm...okay, y’know how I told you my parents were in Canada, and that they worked in a small town that nobody knows?”

“Yes?” his eyebrow raised further yet. 

“That’s...not...entirely true.” I bit my lip. His face only urged me to continue. “Uhm, they actually, aren’t here.”

Too vague. 

Before he could share his inner demons, I quickly added. “They’re not dead. They just uhm...well, they aren’t here...yet.”

“ m’afraid I don’t know what you mean love.” 

“Look, I’m gonna sound crazy, It’s absolutely wild, and you may think I’ve lost it, trust me, It’s hard for me too. Do you understand?”

He nodded mutely, still giving me a puzzled look.

“I’m not from here.”

He rolled his eyes at this “I know that much ya yank.”

“No, well yes...but, not from this...time.”

I took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t born in 1944. I was actually born in 2001.”

It was then he started laughing.

“Good one, (y/n). Still don’t really see the punchline though.”

I slapped my forehead. 

“I thought you might think this was a joke. But, I’m being serious.”

He light smile faded, and turned to a frown.

“Whaddya mean you’re from 2001? Hasn’t even ‘appned yet!”

“I know...I’m from the future.” 

He stared at me blankly for a long time. Then crossing his arms and giving me a skeptical look he finally spoke.

“Prove it then.”

After many months of hiding the technology, I finally pulled out my phone. I tapped on the screen several times to reveal my home screen. 

“Wha- the bloody ‘ell is that?” 

“It’s a phone, love. Look.” I tapped on my Spotify app.

“You boys have been working on a new album with all originals correct?”

“Y-yes, you know this.”

“But you are keeping it a secret, not even I’ve heard the music.” I smirked. “Or at least, you don’t think I have.”

I tapped once more on the screen revealing A Hard Day’s Night album. 

“We haven’t even...”

“Named it? Oh, I know. Check this out. Y’know the song the Macca brought to your house yesterday? And I love her?” I pointed to the screen, and viola it was there. I played the song. His eyes widened in shock.

“We haven’t even finished...”

“Yeah, next week George Martin is going to ask for an intro, and George Harrison is gonna come up with something that will make the song.” His mouth was gaping, he couldn’t believe his ears “Don’t believe me? You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask him yourself, and you’ll know it’s true.” 

At this point, John knew she couldn’t be lying.

“How...?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea. But, here I am, with you, with the Beatles! And it’s a dream come true!”

“Wait...” He quickly interrupted “You said you were born in 2001. That’s...decades. Are we really that famous?” I could hear the anticipation and excitement in his voice. 

Biting my lip, I nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a hit.”

He grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t get too cocky Lennon. You might just fall off your high horse.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Uhm...”

You’re gonna get assassinated. 

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Really?”

“Well, you marry this crazy lady.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s ‘er name?”

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

“Alright then. What else?”

“You grow a beard a few times.”

“Really? I’ve always wondered what’d that’d be like.” he looked up thoughtfully. 

I giggled at his inquisitive look. 

But my joyful moment soon subsided. I finally remembered the truth of the future. 

A world without Lennon.

I should tell him. Of course! If I tell him, he’ll know not to step anywhere near that man! He needs to know!

“Erm...there is one more thing.”

He smiled at me “Yes, kitten?”

“You...” I couldn’t help but stare straight into his orbs once again. 

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here with me.

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“(y/n)? You still here? I know I look good, but maybe you could not get distracted one tiny second?”

I blushed again, and cleared my throat. “Well, this isin’t really something you wanna hear but...”

“But?”

“Uhm, well, you’re dead.”

He looked down at the ground in slight disappointment. “Of course. We all die eventually.”

“Yes, but with you...” before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my eye. “...you could have lived so much longer...had it not been..”

I choked. Tears continued to stream.

“Love, s’alright. I’m still here. Hey, look at me.” He laced his fingers with mine. 

“Y-you were assassinated! That bastard shot you four times! You did nothing wrong!!” I sobbed wildly, mascara streaking on my cheeks. 

He was appalled, but continued to comfort me.

“S’alright love, now that I know, I’ll make sure to not be where I was that day, yeah? You’ve saved me! I’ll be alright! Doll, please don’t cry.” He wiped away my tears with his handkerchief. 

I looked up at him with relief in my eyes. “You’re gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be ok.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

In that moment I had finally realized. 

He was here.

He was alive.

And he loves me.

~~~

Lol, this ended up being more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ll admit to getting a little misty eyed as I wrote this up.

Again, thanks to my computer, which died on me...again... this story is finally out now. Hope you enjoy! 

L.M.

[astoriias]

{ cisgender woman, she/her } ❝ Thank god women learned to whisper / though I crave a megaphone. ❞ huh, who’s CAITRIONA BALFE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ASTORIA MALFOY (NEÉ GREENGRASS). she is a 47 year old PUREBLOOD witch who is CHIEF WARLOCK OF THE WIZENGAMOT. she is known for being JUDGEMENTAL, DISHONEST, COLD, RIGID, and CALLOUS but also PRACTICAL, DRIVEN, INNOVATIVE, STEADFAST and DISCIPLINED, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song TOMORROW - MINER and BLACK LEATHER BRIEFCASES, THE CLICK OF HIGH HEELS ON TILE FLOORS, THE LINGERING TASTE OF FAIRY FLOSS, BURGUNDY NAIL POLISH, AND PEARL HAIR PINS. i hear she is aligned with NO ONE so be sure to keep an eye on her. 

BIO

Cursed with a blood malediction that left her and her parents preoccupied with maintaining her health throughout early childhood, Astoria grew up without direction, without passion, and without much to do or think about other than staying alive. She did what she was told and completed what was asked of her by her parents: mostly swallowing thick potions that made her head spin and remaining in bed when all she wanted to do was tumble through the lush gardens of the Greengrass estate and scrape her knees like other children. As she grew older and defied Healers’ expectations — making it past 5, then 10, then 15 — Astoria grew weary of the half-life she’d been prescribed. At Hogwarts, she followed her sister Daphne into Slytherin because she didn’t know where else to go. 

It took Astoria almost a year at Hogwarts before she would speak up in class or acknowledge anyone with more than a handful of words — and each time she did her heartbeat would quicken, her face would flush. If she was called on by a professor and — Merlin forbid — got the answer wrong, her eyes would fill with tears, her gaze would shift to the floor, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. One day, outside her second-year Transfiguration class, an annoying boy named Colin saw her heavy breathing and told her about panic attacks — Astoria’s irrational fear of social situations and new people now made sense.

That same annoying boy became her close friend not long after. It was a month into study sessions by the Black Lake that Astoria Greengrass learned that her Colin, the boy who kept a camera slung around his neck at all times and was so nice to her, was Colin Creevey, yes, that Colin Creevey, who was petrified by a Basilisk a year prior for being MUGGLEBORN. Astoria found that didn’t bother her very much. Sure, she never advertised that they were friends and didn’t freely associate with Colin in public places, but he understood her position or in the very least, didn’t protest it. She even got him to join Herbology club — though she insisted that they enter and exit the greenhouse at different times and never spoke directly, his presence was a comforting balm.

Colin tried to get her to join up with the student resistance that was brewing in her third year — but Astoria knew she wasn’t the type to stir up such trouble. She couldn’t stand with the muggleborns and blood traitors no matter how right they were; she couldn’t risk losing her family. Unlike those in Dumbledore’s Army, Astoria didn’t see this conflict in terms of black and white, good vs. evil — there were plenty of others like her, struggling to find themselves in the midst of conflict, battling tradition and family expectations. She kept out of Umbridge’s way during that time. Kept out of her father’s way during that time — while he had no Dark Mark to speak of, his entrepreneurial hands passed cursed objects and ingredients for poisons to any Dark Lord-aligned wix who wanted them.

Through her friendship with Colin and her time in Herbology Club, Astoria learned she was a talented witch in her own right. Formed an identity outside of being the sick girl everyone doted on. Quietly realized that her muggleborn classmates  — despite what her pureblood indoctrination taught her — were fully-fledged human beings. To someone who didn’t grow up feeling trapped in the (sometimes socially constructed) confines of a blood illness, perhaps her time in Herbology Club wouldn’t seem so transformative. But for Astoria, it was everything.

Nowadays, Astoria is still defying life expectancy estimations and is perhaps best known for her robust political career. She joined the Ministry as a pupil/intern in its Wizengamot Instruction in Magical Law Program (W.I.M.P.), and in the span of twenty-five years has climbed the ranks to barrister’s assistant, barrister, then Wizengamot member, and finally, the youngest Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot in the last hundred years. She is extremely opinionated about the runnings of the legislature and judiciary, and her past two years as Chief Warlock have been marked by her love for procedure, due process, and fairness -- essentially meaning trials are very thorough and very focused on making sure the Ministry doesn’t overstep its bounds. 

BLOOD MALEDICTION

i’m truly on my bullshit and this needs its own section..........,,,,, i’m sorry

I originally started writing Astoria out of pure spite — it enraged and continues to enrage me that all we’re given about this woman is a few lines about her and an off-page (or off-stage, I guess, but Cursed Child is its own beast) death. It makes me mad that she is only defined by her role as a mother and wife to Scorpius and Draco, that she doesn’t get her own ambitions and a life of her own. The racist and sexist underpinnings of the blood malediction/Maledictus concept are par the course for JK but still, bad!

And while I can’t choose for Astoria to have this particular chronic illness and completely divorce it from those origins, I can at least eschew parts of it I don’t like and give a Astoria a rich and fulfilling life with a chronic/potentially terminal illness — not in spite of the blood curse, but because those of us with illnesses and disabilities are people with rich and fulfilling lives, wants, desires, and ambitions.

AN IMPORTANT NOTE:  I try to be really careful about ableist language when I describe this blood malediction and its effects on Astoria’s life — I think that there is so much to explore regarding chronic illness and what, exactly, we constitute as ‘health’ — but I know that I can fall into the traps of my own internalized ableism. If there are terms or concepts here that make players uncomfortable and/or have harmful effects, let me know! I’m happy to make changes.

So anyway!

— origins of the blood malediction

I don’t have this fully worked out, but I think the Greengrass blood malediction stretches back a good ten generations to a very vindictive-in-her-righteous-cause-Muggleborn-witch cursing the family for their refusal to let her marry their son. It’s not limited to just the girls in the family, because I hate that, but it does affect at least one child per generation, so long as the family continues to marry exclusively purebloods — which they have continued to do, not knowing that their bigotry (though in some cases, real love!) is the reason for the curse’s spread. Astoria’s parents mistakenly believed that since the last few cases of the curse had cropped up in different branches of the Greengrass family — distant cousins living on the Continent — that their children would be spared.

— astoria’s symptoms and treatment

Since it’s a blood curse, I figure Astoria’s symptoms manifest as issues both with her blood and with her cardiovascular system at large. I’d compare it to haemophilia. Her blood itself is thin and cannot clot without healing spells and thickening potions, meaning that nosebleeds are frequent, bruising is easy, and bad cuts can be fatal. She’s at high risk for internal bleeding in her joints, and  a big — though often unvoiced fear — of hers is a brain aneurysm that ruptures into a haemorrhage.

(miscarriage tw) These symptoms have waxed and waned her entire life, with particular incidents that have brought her close to death; an accident falling from the garden wall at five, a wayward spell hitting her across the face in second-year DADA, trying for a child. She doesn’t regret that last one — not at all — though it was five weeks after her miscarriage before she was able to stand unassisted, and her Healer’s face when she said “I strongly advise you to not have any more children” haunts her to this day. Scorpius’s birth, possible due to a wonderful surrogate, was alternatively the happiest day of her life. (end miscarriage tw)

Then there come the potions — a barrage of them, to be taken at specific times of day, with extras if she’s bleeding externally or feeling pain in particular areas — that come with side effects like exhaustion, headaches, and nausea. She visits St. Mungo’s once every three months to ensure that the potions are working as intended and has learned to accept her Healers chastising her for the times she skips parts of the regimen or pushes herself too far physically.

PERSONALITY

astoria!!! my love. clearly i have a lot of thoughts and Feelings about her lol,,,,,,,

there isn’t any world or timeline in which astoria would be rushing to join the death eaters -- lol, i’ve always envisioned her being extremely inquisitive and Critical of other people, their motivations, their methods -- this makes her extremely Good at Lawyering and Suspicious of Bullshit. i also have always thought that it was important for her to make a muggleborn friend or two just to really hammer the point home that pureblood nonsense is just that.

still, again, she’s not really motivated by niceness, she doesn’t have a bleeding-heart-sense-of-empathy, she’s kind of snarky and mean. her friends describe her as an acquired taste. 

has a massive sweet tooth. her family is regularly concerned she does not eat enough vegetables.

adores her son. just, absolutely thinks he can do no wrong. she and draco agree that most parents think their child is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, but scorpius actually is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, so. 

a note on astoria and draco: i think draco doesn’t treat her with pity or kid gloves, and has never underestimated her capacity to get shit done in light of her blood curse. and they have an honesty and rapport with each other that astoria hasn’t been able to cultivate with anyone else. they may not be very great people but they’re great partners and great parents. i luv them ok bye

STATS

GENERAL

name. astoria céline malfoy (née greengrass)

nickname. aster (reserved for use by her sister only!)

birthdate. 1 january 1982

place of birth. greengrass residence via midwifery

family. daphne greengrass (sister), draco malfoy (husband), scorpius malfoy (son)

residence. malfoy manor, wiltshire

occupation. chief warlock of the wizengamot

gender identity. woman

romantic orientation. biromantic

sexuality. bisexual

blood status. pureblood

relationship status. married

pets. a scottish terrier named hades

HOGWARTS / MAGIC

house. slytherin

extracurriculars/leadership. herbology club

allegiance. neutral/no one

n.e.w.t. grades charms (o), transfiguration (o), herbology (o), d.a.d.a (a), potions (a), arithmancy, astronomy (o), history of magic (a), ancient runes (e).

wand. willow, nine inches, unicorn hair core

boggart. tbd

patronus. also tbd! my brain hurts 

magical strengths. nonverbal casting, herbology, transfiguration, ancient runes

magical weaknesses. flying, defensive spells, domestic spells

[galadrieljones]

Dragon Age Question Meme

Tagged by @thevikingwoman and @idrelle-miocovani. Thanks!! ^_^

tagging @pikapeppa @a-shakespearean-in-paris @wrenbee @bearly-tolerable @hidinginthehinterlands @ladylike-foxes @sasshole-for-rent @ma-sulevin @princessvicky01 @lyrium-lovesong

01) favorite game of the series?

Inquisition. It was my introduction to the franchise, and I just have a hard time going back to older games and enjoying them the same? I really liked Origins, but the silent protag, despite my love for Skyrim, isn’t really my thing. I’ve never *actually* played all the way through DA2. Don’t shoot me. I just don’t have the time lol.

02) how did you discover Dragon Age?

My husband bought it for me for my birthday one year, on a recommendation from a guy at GameStop. He said, “My wife loves Skyrim. What are some other games she might like?” Inquisition had just come out like six months earlier.

03) how many times you’ve played the games?

I’ve only played through Origins once. I’ve played through Inquisition in its entirety (including Trespasser) 4 times.

04) favorite race to play as?

Hmm. I’ve played most as an elf, but that’s due to Solavellan. I am not really an elf-exclusive kind of lady. My first two PTs were with Trevelyans who romanced Cullen and Sera respectively. In Skyrim, another game with a million race choices, I’ve mostly played as a Nord, with a couple wood elves, too. So, I like elves and humans equal, I’d say.

05) favorite class?

Rogues, archers in particular. This is pretty much always true for me. Though I play Revasan Lavellan as a two-handed warrior with a great big sword and it’s QUITE fun (in Skyrim, my main Nord is a two-handed warrior, too.)

06) do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

I have mixed certain things up. I’ve done playthroughs in Inquisition where I let the Wardens stay, playthroughs where I exile them. I’ve also gone with the Templars once, though I mostly choose the Mages because I just like In Hushed Whispers better. I like to mess with the opening world state a little in the Dragon Age Keep, too. But there are certain things I always need to be the same, just because I can’t cope with the other options lol. For example, Morrigan and Warden Matthew Cousland are an OTP for life for me, and it’s canon in my brain forever that Matthew would not do the blood ritual with Morrigan, nor would he allow it to be performed with anyone else, so he died saving the world. But they do have a baby together--Kieran exists. But he is not an old god baby in my universe and never will be.

07) go-to adventuring group?

Solas, Iron Bull, and Dorian with Sene Lavellan; Solas, Cassandra, and Sera for Revasan Lavellan. Sometimes, I’ll mix things up a little with Sene (who I’ve played a LOT) and bring Sera instead of Dorian, or Cole instead of Dorian. Sometimes I’ll bring Cass or Thom instead of Bull. I specialize Sera with daggers, actually, so I can have two kinds of rogues. 

08) which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

Overall, probably Sene, since I’ve played her the longest and written about her the most. But I’ve put a lot into Revasan as well. In some ways, I feel I know his code better than Sene’s. 

09) favorite romance?

Solas. But Sera was also lovely.

10) have you read any of the comics/books?.

No. I have “Masked Empire,” but I’ve not read it.

11) if you read them, which was your favorite book?

-

12) favorite DLCs?

Trespasser. I also like Jaws of Hakkon. The Frostback Basin is a super neat setting with a lot of strangeness and beauty. I love the pink.

13) things that annoy you.

Not much? Mostly I get annoyed when parts of the fandom fixate on things that annoy them. That annoys me, because I’m here for the positive vibes, not the negative.

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

Ferelden. I think it’s weirder. 

15) templars or mages?

Mages. Honestly both factions have problems  in their leadership as far as I’m concerned, but I tend to choose the mages more often, because the quest is more fun in Inquisition, and I just can’t stand the idea of them being enslaved by some Tevinter fuckface. 

16) if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

I have two universes: one where Sene is Inquisitor, and one where her father Revasan is Inquisitor. They each exist in their respective universes though and are the same people, just in different roles. Sene is with Solas in both.

17) what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Warden Matthew Cousland named his Mabari Good Boy.

18) have you installed any mods?

Console only

19) did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

No. He didn’t want anything to do with the Wardens. He was sort of like the Prince Hal of the Couslands, causing trouble and being ironic and kind of a jerk and a charmer. Morrigan often casts him as having had a bandit’s sensibility but a good heart. He joined the Wardens because after his parents died he was a mess and didn’t know what else to do or where else to go. I picture him as only having been like 24.

20) hawke’s personality?

I kind of just go with classic purple Hawke lol. He’s a little derpy but brave as hell. His plans often go wrong but he’s very good at improvising. He romanced Fenris. His name is simply Garrett. 

21) did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

No lol. I like to use knightly colors though. I always use light, silvery metals and then with accents that fit each character’s personality. Sene’s accent color is always a fiery red. Revasan’s is a cold blue.

22) if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?  

Probably not much. My characters all tend to sort of face forward at all times. Revasan might change things from his wife’s tragic backstory though. He might save her family from the Fifth Blight if he had the chance.

23) do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

Plenty lol. I headcanon my Lavellans as land rich farmers who live stationary, wealthy lives and have for three generations. I have robust headcanons for the Dalish in general, mainly that there is a robust farming tradition among them, and that there are more successful Dalish elves than many humans and city elves realize. Nobility and Chantry officials would be unfamiliar with their culture, but any agricultural and merchant families of Ferelden and Orlais and the Free Marches would probably work often with Dalish farmers. I also headcanon Dalish farmers as being very much in league with the Merchant’s Guild. The Lavellans have a strong, historic partnership with the Tethras family, for example, because of all the business they do in Kirkwall. Varric has known Revasan and also Sene for many years. 

I also reject the barefoot elves thing. I just...for me, personally, it’s too Fantasy with a capital F and I like things to be a little grittier than that. So my elves wear boots, okay? Come at me.

24) are any of your character(s) based on someone?

Nope. Or, well, I mean, Revasan’s appearance is heavily informed by that of Luke Evans. His voice claim is like a mix between Gordon Ramsey and Jude Law. Sene is entirely unique.

25) who did you leave in the Fade?

When it was Hawke or Stroud, I left Stroud. When it was Hawke or Alistair, I left Hawke. Hawke wanted it more. Alistair is too...precious in my mind. I was worried about him. But in my sort of main world state, Alistair is King of Ferelden and not a Warden, so Stroud is actually in the Fade for all intents and purposes.

26) favorite mount?

Lol I don’t use mounts. My party and I run around on foot like children and get eaten by bears like men. 

[ghostwise]

Dragon Age Questions

@dirthara-mama tagged me for this! Thank you!! <3 I’ll tag @mabarihounds @antivan-surana and @vlwv 

01) Favourite game of the series?

Origins! It’s the first one I played, and each time I pick it up I find something entirely new in the experience. The characters feel like old friends, and the dialogue is really charming. It also has a ridiculous high-fantasy vibe that I love, which seems to be lacking in later games. I know it’s silly, I know it’s absurd and dated... but you just can’t beat that possessed rhyming oak tree npc…

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

When Inquisition was announced, I started seeing a lot of it on my dash, so a friend and I started playing the series! I was hooked pretty much right away.

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I’ve finished Origins three times, DA2 twice, and I’m currently playing Inquisition for the first time!!  Exciting!

I also have a handful of unfinished playthroughs on Origins, which were attempts to create new Warden characters, but none of them got past the first quest. I just love my Mahariel too much… 

04) Favourite race to play as?

Elves! I love the worldbuilding behind them, the city elves, the Dalish, and the ancient elves. I hate pretty much everything about how these issues are handled in game, though.

05) Favourite class?

Mage!

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

Pretty much. I have tried to play as different characters so as to explore different outcomes and decisions, but again… I love my OCs too damn much.

07) Go-to adventuring group?

Origins: Hamal, Zevran, Morrigan, Sten. DA2: Renata, Varric, Anders, Isabela. Inquisition: Neluayo, Varric, Blackwall, Sera—so far!

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

Listen, I love creating OCs and putting ridiculous amounts of thought into them. It went from being a coping mechanism as a newly immigrated depressed and anxious child, to something I still love as an adult. I have a hard time picking one OC I put the most thought into…

But because I’ve played Origins the most, and played it first, Hamal has a lot more content in his tag than my other Dragon Age OCs. He’s my baby and I adore him.

09) Favourite romance?

Zevran’s, no question. I think he may be one of my favorite characters in the series, romance or no! I love his background and his personality and his character arc. My boy...

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

Nope!

11) If you read them, which was your favourite book?

Didn’t read any of them but I do own World of Thedas v1 and v2, and it seems each time I open it I find something new and surprising about the world. I love it!

12) Favourite DLCs?

I really enjoyed Return to Ostagar for Origins, and Legacy for Dragon Age 2. I know Inquisition has some amazing DLC content so I’m looking forward to that!

13) Things that annoy you.

The constant retconning, and rewriting of issues to suit a certain agenda in game. Especially regarding treatment of the mages or the elves. Like, I know this is a fictional narrative, okay? But it’s annoying to watch the story go from ‘Templars are unequivocally abusing their power and oppressing this group of people’ to ‘well they have good reason for it, sometimes you have to massacre an entire population because of one incident, it’s Gray Morality™ sweetie!’

Nah, it’s just bad writing! And it’s okay to admit that lol

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

I have no strong feelings on the matter. Would love to hear more about Antiva or Seheron!

15) Templars or mages?

Mages!

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

Same universe. I don’t have an interest in having multiple Wardens or Hawkes tbh, I... I get too attached lol

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Hamal calls his mabari D’alen. He is the most spoiled mabari in all of Thedas, typically guarding the camp, never fighting or being placed in danger. Renata calls her mabari Nicolo, and she loves putting warpaint on him. The dog accompanied Carver at Ostagar and takes care of the family over their years in Kirkwall. I still need to name Neluayo’s hart!

18) Have you installed any mods?

A few for Origins (different robes for Morrigan and the realistic appearance mods for companions), and several for DA2 (dialogue tweaks and new hair/appearance options). But Inquisition seems kinda complicated to mod, and I don’t want to break the game hhhh

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

No, he wanted to find Tamlen and go back to his clan. He actually did take off after Ostagar, driven by anger and fear and homesickness. Alistair was devastated. Morrigan had to go and fetch him, convincing him to return.

20) Hawke’s personality?

A good mix of purple and blue, but let’s be real, Renata is pink. Whimsy, whimsy, whimsy.

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

I haven’t played around with armor creation yet… sounds fun though!

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

Hamal would have gone after Tamlen. It’s his greatest regret. Even before encountering him as a ghoul, Hamal was never able to shake the feeling that Tamlen had survived. But Duncan shot down every hope, and there was so much going on after Ostagar… there came a point where Hamal accepted that Tamlen was gone. 

When he shows up again, too far beyond any help but a blade between his ribs? It’s not something he ever gets over.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

Oh I love breaking canon.

Hamal never becomes Warden Commander. His political influence by the time of the Landsmeet is as perilous as you might expect of an angry and traumatized Dalish elf whose interest was more on surviving and defeating the Blight, than, say, being on any noble’s good side. The only reason he isn’t immediately executed is because he and his allies called in many favors and made many concessions. One being that he would leave the Wardens and not remain politically involved. Frankly, the crown and nobility hoped he would perish against the Archdemon. But here we are! 

Alistair becomes Warden Commander instead. Receiving the boon comes with challenges of its own. The Dalish receive all the land that was most tainted by the Blight. Reconstruction takes years and is still an issue during Inquisition era.

To that end, the political influence of the Dalish during Inquisition leads to a lot of changes for Neluayo’s canon too. Because the elves have a hold over much of the south, the Inquisition needs to ally with them to even gain access to those regions. Neluayo being Dalish herself smooths things over some, but she is really in a complex position, with the Dalish, with the Chantry, with the monarchy… being stationed in the Free Marches, Clan Lavellan is one of the clans that has yet to join the southern Dalish. It’s a huge stressor for her.

As for Hawke, I keep both her siblings alive. Renata needs her little sister ;; <3 They do all go their separate ways after events in Kirkwall though. Orsino is also alive. Varric was clearly covering for him!

And I know Hawke already has a VA buuuut I headcanon Renata’s voice to sound more like Brittany Howard’s! Because it’s adorable.

24) Are any of your character(s) based on someone?

Not really. I never create them with any one source of inspiration or influence in mind.

25) Who did you leave in the Fade?

I’m gonna leave Stroud in the Fade! Makes my life a lot easier lol

26) Favourite mount?

I’ll agree that the harts are amazing! And they’re just so TALL. Love those majestic Thedosian megafauna. The bog unicorns are cute too, they’ve grown on me, surprisingly. Ha!

[wolgrahas]

tagged by: @falkreathh thank you!!  sorry for doing this so much later u_u’ tagging: whoever wants to!! (◡‿◡✿) 1. favourite game in the series ok... i don’t know if you already figured it out but my total fave is dao. why? maybe is the nostalgic feelings this game gives me or... i played it so many mcfucking times that i just get this hollow feeling inside my chest when i haven’t played it for weeks... idk. the trespasser dlc was spectacular too and gave my lavellan a lot of personality (what i thought the dai base game lacked, bc it made me feel like my inquisitor was an empty shell with no personality, solas’ romance save the dai base game to me tbqh). but... you can create such complex personalities in dao for your warden, and the relationships are so so realistic. i think (dao) is neat lmao. 

2. how did you discover dragon age? before being a dragon age fan i was a dark souls fan; i breath dark souls, i read dark souls, i ate dark souls, i was quite obsessed with dark souls, and before dark souls i was an obsessed skyrim fan (oNLY SKYRIM, not the previous games ashdgjasdgh) and with skyrim that was the first time i made video game oc's, like... they had such complex personalities and i cannot make complex character now... aNYWAY i'm getting carried away: i knew dragon age bc dai was being lunched and ALL the people i followed reblogged stuff about dai, and then i bought dao and loved it!! 

3. how many times have you played the games? hfgsdjfhsjfshd fffUCKKKK SHITT... alright... many mANY TIMES, but how many times i haven't finished my game?? countless times!! i think i finished fINISHED dao maybe... pls don't laugh at me... 10+ times. yes they are so so so many times, shame on me! shame on my cow! blah blah, but i lOVE dao. da2 maybe.... 3-4 times? and dai 6 times?? it's funny bc i played dao and da2 in many different ways but dai... m8, always the same, fuck you solas sdhfjdshjsdf 4. favourite race to play? qUNARIIIII!!! i lOVE tieflings so.. i obviously love the qunari too, but in the dai the first race i chose was qunari but then i talked to solas and i was like... bITCHHHHH i'm gonna create an elf to romance this egg, and then... my canon inky became an elf lol. and last favourite race are humans... ok don't hate me, it's not bc they are """boring""" or shit like that, it's bc they are the upper-class of thedas and i LOVE the "from zero to hero" trope... so... yeah agfshsdfhj 5. favourite class? mages!! bc i love the lore behind this class, it's fantastic, precisely blood magic. but if i didn't care about this, i would choose archer, tho in the first games it sucked but in dai is pretty cool :^) 6. do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? as i've said before i have made many different decisions in dao and da2 but in dai are always the same lol 7. go-to adventuring group? origins: alistair/sten, morrigan, zev/leliana da2: aveline, anders, isabela/varric dai: solas, cassandra, cole/sera 8. which of your characters did you put the most thought into? i think prim/anika??(they're the same but one is a human and the other an elf lmaoo), she was my first da oc, and obviously the one i put most thought into bc i uSED to have a lot of creativity some years ago, what a pity my brain is useless now lmao 9. favourite romance? pfffff... solas, alistair, leli and cass!! i think?? idk i gotta play again dai bc i'm not sure :/ 10. have you read any of the comics/books? i've read aLL the books but not the comics :/, i want to read the comics but idk where i could read them online and free (sorry i'm poor lol), so... mi gozo en un pozo lmao 11. if you read them, which was your favourite book? my fav book was "the masked empire"!! patrick weekes is a good writer and i loved the orlesian politics, and i adored seeing these characters in dai! (tho briala was whitewashed lmao) 12. favourite DLCs? obviously: awakening and trespasser. these two dlc's were mcfUCKING AMAZING. i mean, with dao i expected the same quality of the base game, but trespasser was such an excelent and good experience, it gave a lot of insight to our inquisitors and also: sOOULASSSSS, so yep! i mainly lOVED trespasser and i hope weekes guides the team to make a game at least as good as this dlc! (tho, if ea is a greedy bintch this time [as always lol] it doesn't matter how many times the bioware time tries, ea will force them to do a shitty game :/) 13. things that annoy you how viv, anders and sera are written, i mean, i loved anders the first time i played da2 but his personality is obviously written to annoy the fuck outta you, tho i loved how he expressed his ideals freely (tho sometimes he even seemed too traidtional to me about topics like blood magic :/), but sera and viv were a lil harder to befriend and like, and i still don't like much viv, but i love her as a character, y'kno 14. orlais or ferelden? tbh, if i gotta live in one of those two places i would choose ferelden by fAR. but, now, if we're talking about which is more interesting; orlais. 15. templars or mages? like @/blckwall said: all templars are bastards :). i would love if thedas had independent magic schools, that there were no higher representatives or charges, that every village or city had its own magic school, and the crown would be the responsable of manage its needs. i haven't thought much about this so my thoughts are quite vague :/ 16. if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one? they're from different universes, tho i'd love the idea of all of them being in the same universe, but some worlds states are incompatible with others. 17. what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc) in dao: barkspawn (i'm extremelly predictable, sorry u_u') 18. have you installed any mods? all my dragon age games are modded as fUCK. i mean, i think dao is the most heavy modded game i have?? (mainly bc i cannot install many mods in skyrim lol) but when i have my gaming computer again i will mod the shit out of dai >:) 19. did your warden want to become a grey warden? prim had been working in the circle her entire live to be in the higher ranks, and then she saw how all her work was lost made her really conflicted: she didn't wanted to leave bc she yearned to be more powerful and make the circle a better place for mages (yep, she's deeply anti-circle bc of her traumatic past), and she was going to die if she refused duncan's offer. even so, she was never sorry for supporting jowan. and, she became the king of ferelden's mistress; she loved him obv, but she could also take some advantage of his power to make the mages and marginalize people's situation better, and gain fortune by that; alistair was well aware about her plans by prim's words herself, but he never objected. altho the main cause prim made alistair king is bc she wanted him to have a good life and not waste it as a grey warden, so... anyway, i got acrried away... this is long af ghdjsdgf 20. hawke’s personality? red mostly, tho he used to be purple/red in the first and begining of the second act :/ 21. did you make matching armor for your companions in inquisition? yes i did!! i lOVED to be fashionable in dragon age instyle!! 22. if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? prim : she would have tried to convince jowan and wait some months until she could convince him. also: sometimes she wishes she didn't make alistair king, mostly bc of her daughter (her daughter is the only heir to the throne of ferelden, and basically she doesn't even know that prim is her real mother, mostly bc anora adopted her bc alistair and she couldn't have children), sometimes, in her alone saddest times, thinks how things would have been if alistair was still a grey warden, they would have a happy family and wouldn't even had to hide inofensive stuff like a cheek kiss. but anyway, her duties as a grey warden are more important and doesn't have time to think about it. garrett hawke: he regrets not defending carver, he would have prefered to sacrifice himself instead of any of his siblings. he also regrets going to the deep roads with bethany, letting the grey wardens make her one of them (obv he doesn't know that if he didn't she would have joined the circle lmao). and obv her mother's death... if he had been there, with her mother, he could have done something... :'/ maia: she regrets not being strong enough when that shem tried to hurt her when she was a litte girl, that made her mother kill him to save her bc she was too defenseless, she should have been stronger, that caused her mother and she part ways, because now maia's mother was a criminal and she had more proabilities of getting caught, so maia should go on her way and find the next village, but she found the lavellan clan. she deeply regrets not going after her mother. she also think she was too stupid to not found out the true identity of solas and try to convince him that this world has meaning :'/ 23. do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon? mmmm... no? :/, i like my decisions to have consequences?? 24. are any of your characters based on someone? sahgdashsd pls don't make fun of me but in the first stage of prim's/anika's 'personality creation' was inspired by mother gothel, then she was inspired by...... mikasa ackerman dsfgdjsdf, i'm still inspired by that character tHO i know that shingeki no kyojin is nazi propaganda and i no longer watch that anime lmao. maia is inspired by... a mix of me and rapunzel (from tangled)?? she's basically a shy rapunzel :') 25. who did you leave in the fade? some of you will hate me bc i had to choose between hawke and stroud but i still chose hawke dsfgsdf. m8, hawke is just a 'figure' who isn't widely recognized in thedas, while the grey warden are 394789x more useful, idk i always put myself in the shoes of my characters even if their decisions hurt me (tho, tbqh, i'm not tHAT attached to hawke so this choice was easy lol) 26. favourite mount? royal sixteen!! she's so pretty!! ♡♡♡ thanks for tagging me!! ♡♡

[skyaches-aaa]

Here are Krishna’s thoughts on all of her companions , much of which is based on personal headcanon and my canon divergence about Origins’ timeline so I don’t expect everyone to adhere to this development ! This includes companions from the main game and DLCs and I’m using general terms from the companion relationship chart to describe them before going into detail.

EREYEN ( BEST FRIENDS ) : He is a companion created by my best friend who will be bringing him to tumblr in the near future. He is a Warden as well , in Alistair’s recruit group , but also did not want to lead the party. Still , he became a very good friend of Krishna’s over the Blight to the point where her daughter calls him Uncle.

ALISTAIR ( FRIENDS / DISLIKE ) : Oh boy. Krishna’s relationship with Alistair got very complicated. In my game I took the fact I kept sniper romancing him as canon of him developing a crush that ultimately went nowhere when she turned him down which made things uncomfortable for a brief period but she does care for him as a friend. I also have it where the Landsmeet happens in the middle of Origins instead of at the end , and Krishna spares Loghain. She doesn’t want Alistair to leave but she is firm in her decision and is very sad to see him go. She often thinks of him and feels guilty if she ever hears what became of him after the Blight. If she could , she would love to repair their friendship even if it’s not quite what it once was.

ITZAL ( BEST FRIENDS ) : Who’s a good boy ? Itzal’s a good boy !

LELIANA ( FRIENDS ) : There was a bit of a tense start given Krishna’s feelings on the Chantry and Leliana’s naïve view on elves. But she is willing to learn and she develops as a person and they become close.

MORRIGAN ( FRIENDS / DISTRUST / FRIENDS ) : Another complicated relationship. Krishna befriends Morrigan and they do trust one another. They’re very close and Krishna appreciates her blunt honesty. But then the Ritual comes and Krishna has been through a lot. She doesn’t love the idea of it but she also doesn’t want to risk Loghain or Ereyen dying because she loves them deeply. Plus , Morrigan and Ereyen are together so it wasn’t like sex was an issue. And then Morrigan disappears with the baby and Krishna worries about her and , honestly , what she is doing with the child. When they meet again in Witch Hunt , Morrigan is cryptic and refuses to show the baby and she is going to disappear with him again. So Krishna stabs her with every intent on going through the mirror and getting Ereyen his son and the portal closes. It leaves Krishna riddled with guilt until Morrigan shows up again in Inquisition. There is a long conversation where they slowly begin working through what happened and rebuild their relationship. Morrigan admits that she had plans but they changed so Krishna’s paranoia was understandable but they both agree stabbing was probably a bit too far.

OGHREN ( DISLIKE / FRIENDS ) : I take a lot of personal headcanon when it comes to Oghren. He is deep in the ways of the warrior caste , the subsequent removal from it , and the abuse from Branka. Krishna sympathizes , especially after learning the importance of caste in dwarven society. Still , she tells Oghren he can’t talk like that to women in particular , and that drinking this much is an issue. I won’t say she’s unkind about it , but she isn’t exactly gentle either. She doesn’t ever give him alcohol as a present because she does not want to encourage his alcoholism. Krishna is the firm hand he needs to learn to be better. He relapses while they’re apart between Origins and Awakening and she doubles down on him with his new responsibility as a father and husband and that’s when he turns his life around for real.

SHALE ( BEST FRIENDS ) : Shale is her favorite sassy golem. Krishna is very happy to not have control of her. The very blunt nature hides a very soft heart and Krishna knows it. Shale likes to pretend she doesn’t care but she can carried an injured Krishna all the way back to camp and didn’t let anyone else touch her until they got to Wynne. They are very good friends and Krishna misses her when she leaves and is happy for any visits.

STEN ( BEST FRIENDS / RESPECT ) : Sten learns a lot from Krishna and she from him. They build up a combatant’s respect first before they get to a point where things become more personal. She does have to kind of put him in his place in regards to some of his attitudes but all in all Sten is someone she comes to care for and respect very deeply and vice versa.

WYNNE ( RESPECT ) : Oh , Wynne. Krishna is older than the game attempts to imply the Warden is. She’s 30 and Wynne treats her like a child while still expecting her to be fully shouldering the Warden responsibilities. As someone who also lost her mother , she is very against many mothering types save for Adaia’s friend from her former Dalish clan but those are special circumstances. She respects Wynne to a degree , but at the same time Krishna has experienced a lot more than her given Wynne has lived the majority of her life in the Circle. Age doesn’t automatically earn you that respect or right to council. It only comes from her magic / healing experience and the fact that sometimes she does give good advice. But I still wouldn’t call them particularly close.

ZEVRAN ( BEST FRIENDS ) : The assassin sent after her is now a part of her found family , thanks. If it isn’t clear , Krishna does have a preference for her non human companions but it’s not intentional lol. But yeah , Zevran is easily one of her best friends ever and she emotionally supports him in leaving the Crows. They send letters often after the Blight and he regularly offers to kill any annoying nobles for her for free. She doesn’t really directly say no lmao.

LOGHAIN ( LOVE ) : That’s her husband. Again , as the Landsmeet takes place in the middle of the Blight instead , Krishna gets Loghain as a companion early. Krishna has zero intention of falling for him , but she finds an unexpected ease with him. She treats him like a normal person and does understand Rendon was absolutely playing on his paranoia while also acknowledging the things he was at fault for. He is someone she comes to rely on with her leader responsibilities and Krishna finds herself caring more and more. They get married a few years after the Blight and have an adopted elven child named Nina together.

ANDERS ( BEST FRIENDS ) : After everything with the Blight and then having Warden Commander duties , the levity Anders brings is refreshing and she really sympathizes with someone wanting to escape the Circle , given what she saw there and knows even the stories she heard are far worse. She gives him his cat and it cements their permanent friendship. When she hears what happened at Kirkwall , she does briefly hide him in Gwaren. There is discussion about potentially putting Krishna and Nina ( as he doesn’t really have a personal relationship with Loghain and Nina is still young ) in danger for harboring him but they insist it’s okay but he still moves on eventually.

JUSTICE ( FRIENDS ) : Admittedly , it’s a little weird to have a spirit possessed corpse running around but Krishna comes to care about him. He’s interesting and she appreciates his unique perspective on the world. It’s very interesting for her when she realizes Justice and Anders are bonded but she cares about them both.

NATHANIEL ( FRIENDS ) : He is a young and angry kid and Krishna gets that. She really does. So she tries her best to help him but also remains firm in handling the way he is dealing with his mix of guilt and confusion and anger and love surrounding his father. Eventually he comes to look up to her and still calls her Commander even when she eventually passes the title to Valaros.

SIGRUN ( FRIENDS ) : The death jokes are funny but Krishna does encourage Sigrun to find purpose for herself. They are good friends and enjoy having a laugh together , getting drinks after long days. The way Krishna gives her gifts over little things she mentioned is very sweet.

VELANNA ( FRIENDS / RESPECT ) : Krishna and Velanna have an understanding of being abused by humans but Krishna has interactions with humans beyond the antagonistic ones Velanna had. She does knows her anger , and her hating of humans is valid. But they do disagree on how to handle situations. It’s more Krishna’s willingness to cut through her barbed exterior that allows them to be friends but they don’t necessarily become best of friends still.

VALAROS ( FRIENDS ) : This is actually her half brother. Adaia had a child a year before she met Cyrion and she was shunned by her clan for being pregnant out of wedlock. She left Valaros with the clan so he can still have his culture and she thinks this is a better chance for him and her. Val does grow up embittered by this , especially when he purposely finds out where his mother is and sees she has another child. He becomes determined to make his own way in the world and winds up with the Wardens in Orlais. When he discovers Krishna got into the Wardens and became a Hero within a year it did make him rather angry and he requested to be sent to Amaranthine so see what happened with the Ferelden Wardens post Blight. He didn’t tell Krishna why he had a problem with her for a very long time but it eventually came out but because Krishna refused to be the point of blame for all of her brother’s problems , they did work through Valaros’ anger and became close. They do consider one another siblings and the position of Warden Commander is granted to Val since he actually wanted to be a Warden and she did not. He is the one out looking for a cure for the Taint.

ARIANE ( FRIENDS ) : More angry elves for Krishna to befriend. She likes her upfront and confident nature and likes the banter she has with Finn. They write one another on occasion.

FINN ( FRIENDS ) : Finn is not the first mage she’s met that liked the protection of the Circle but she isn’t a big fan of his unintentionally badmouthing Anders. Still , they get along well enough and he is usually there to greet her when she comes to visit the Circle for information.

BROGAN ( FRIENDS ) : Admittedly , I never played the Golems DLC but Krishna did complete it and I believe she would have liked Brogan’s company.

JERRIK ( FRIENDS ) : Same as above , though she does prefer Brogan I think.

[simplystefanie-rae]

I think Marinette wont be as interesting since you already talk about her quite a lot in your posts (but you could do it anyway if you'd like) :) How about Alya and Lila?

@cheklmn I could probably talk about Marinette and think of new things to say about her for hours, but I’ll do Alya and Lila to switch things up a bit!

Alya first : )

do I like them: I love Alya bunches. I know it might not seem like it because my blog is basically exclusively all about Marinette, but she’s the perfect best friend in a story that has her own qualities that make her stand out as more than just the supportive best friend. She has her own wants and we’re going to be privy to a more in depth look at her family life that’ll flesh her out even more, and I’m really looking forward to see where they’re taking her.

5 good qualities: Her supportive nature: The girl is just no questions asked, she’s always helping her clumsy, no-chill friend out when she needs that more calming presence to help her out. It’s all very sweet.Her hair: Have you seen that hair? Her spunk: Like Marinette, she doesn’t let people walk all over her and snaps back quick. Her softness: with kids specifically. Being a sister in charge of babysitting will do that. Her inquisitiveness: It’s what makes her a great upcoming journalist. She’s as successful as she is because shes constantly asking questions and wanting to learn the scoop. Unfortunately…

3 bad qualities:… this can also be a bad thing. Her inquisitive nature sometimes reaches to far and she doesn’t think some things through. Like with discovering Ladybug’s identity. I’m not sure the ramifications of that crossed her mind at all, though this hasn’t been brought up in a while so maybe she’s laying off more? Still would have liked to see that play out more on screen though. But she also rushes into the thick of a fight to get footage. The danger is part of the job for a lot of journalists, but she’s still a kid, and Le Pharoah demonstrated how she can get in the way and be used against the heroes. So, I can really only thing of 2 bad qualities, and that’s being both relentless and reckless at times. 

favourite episode/etc: Origins, both episodes. We got to see her righteousness, bravery, and recklessness all in one episode, and she was instantly there to help Marinette from the start. 

otp: Her and Nino are cute as shit, wish we saw more of them though. Or just of Nino in general.

brotp: Obvi her and Marinette, they should write the book on besties.

ot3: Not really into one.

notp: Her and Chloe I guess. I just see them clashing and getting on each others nerves more than anything, even after they likely become friends. 

best quote: I can’t remember it word for word, but it’s when she tells Marinette in Origins that it’s worse to sit idly by and watch evil happen rather than try to stop it. It’s probably the show in a nutshell.

head canon: Makes everyone in her life watch superhero movies; even the bad ones who puns make even Adrien cringe.Now Lila, which will probably be a little shorter since so far she’s a one-ep wonder

do I like them: Yeah, I think from what we’ve seen of her so far she’s really interesting. I was annoyed at how many people instantly disliked and was disappointed by her because they projected some older sister type character onto her for so long, but IMO a sneaky liar who lies is ten times more fun to play around with, especially since outside of Hawkmoth and Chloe to a smaller and smaller extent, there are no jerk characters, or characters who are there to cause others conflict. Lila could fit the bill quite nice. 

5 Good qualities: We weren’t really shown much so far were we. She’s smooth and has great hair lol. And she’s clever. The problem is the things that I can say are good about her she uses for less than moral purposes right now. Until we learn more this is about all I can say. 

3 bad qualities: I mean, the usual lol. Manipulating, lying, and her pride. The first two I think are discussed in spades though. Her pride prevents her from taking responsibility for her own actions and even seeing that she ever did something wrong. It’s why I was one of the VERY FEW who did NOT like that she didn’t forgive Ladybug right away, not because Ladybug deserved to be forgiven, but it says more about Lila’s inability to assess her own wrong doings and that she’s clearly a girl that can hold a grudge. It just doesn’t seem healthy.

Favorite Episode: Lol. Volpina. 

otp: None

brotp: I like the idea of Marinette trying to reach out to her if she sees Lila trying, though with certain spoilers we know that likely might not happen right now. But I like the idea of them bonding while Lila rants about how much she hates Ladybug lol. Dishing out some of that sweet, sweet irony. Also they’re both italian like can I get Lila showing Marinette how to say some italian words??

notp: None

best quote: I can’t remember a thing she said word for word and I’m not checking the awful wiki page to find out. But in general I think that she refused to forgive Ladybug at the end of the episode set the tone for her kind of character and that she’s going to be a problem. A deliciously fun problem. 

Headcanon: She brushes her hair in 100 strokes a day. 

[shift-shaping]

I'm very sleepy, so apologies if you're not taking prompts.... But the female Solas post keeps popping up on my dash.... If you're up to it, would you perhaps write a bit with her perhaps meeting/flirting with someone of your choosing? (Bonus points if it's some weird version of the world where they know of the original Solas lol)

Glimpses: Lady Solas

@dadrunkwriting

Rating: G

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Female Solas x Lavellan because I guess we’re doing this now

Ellian had never been so obsessed with another woman before. 

Sure, there were dalliances in her clan, pretty girls she enjoyed time with just as much as the handsome boys, but no one that caught her eye like Solas. She was statuesque and stunning, with long legs and toned arms. Her eyes reminded Ellian of a cat’s, gleaming and wise and mischievous, but her demeanor was always calm and controlled. 

She was brilliant, too. Solas had something to say about everything Elvhen, and seemingly endless stores of information about the Fade. It was all absolutely fascinating, and Ellian hung on to her every word. Of course, all of that was made dangerously easier by her deep, painfully sexy voice. Ellian swore she could hear it in her dreams, or whenever she allowed her mind to wander. 

After spending enough time trying not to fawn over Solas in the field, Ellian finally decided to seek her out in Haven. There she was, barefoot but comfortable, hands held behind her back as she observed the Breach high overhead. As Ellian approached her Solas smiled very slightly, almost imperceptibly. “The Chosen of Andraste,” she cooed, with a curious expression that made Ellian’s heart drop. “A blessed hero sent to save us all.”

“Ah, yeah. I guess I’m riding in on a shining steed.”

“Mmm… I might have suggested a griffon, but sadly they’re extinct.” The thought made Solas purse her lips and shake her head. “Joking aside, posturing is necessary.” There was a slight lilt to her voice, an accent Ellian couldn’t place. It had a hint of her own voice, the Dalish tongue, but not quite. It was more refined, somehow, more tempered. 

Solas turned and Ellian followed. She saw how the taller elf’s brows knit together as she looked up at the Breach. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations.” Ellian followed Solas’s gaze, looking up at the torn sky. “I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clashed to re-enact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” Though she kept her tone light, Ellian couldn’t help but detect a note of somberness in it. Beautiful as it sounded, fascinating as she was sure such journeys were, there had to be difficulties as well. “Every great war has its heroes,” Solas said, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Ellian again. “I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

Ellian stiffened and tried to find words, but it was hard to think when such a gorgeous person was looking at her. “I… I’ve never of someone going so far into the Fade… that’s amazing.”

“Thank you, it’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons.” She paused, smiling slightly, and held her arms behind her back again. “You are a mage, are you not? Tell me, what do you see when you dream?”

“I see…” She considered the question, not wanting to sound dumb or inexperienced. “Whatever is around me, usually. I can wander through the recent past of an area, speak to some of our ancestral spirits… things like that.

“Ah. Fascinating. Can you shape what you see there, in your dreams?”

“Not exactly, no… I can call things to me, sometimes, but only if they want to come.”

Solas nodded, looking away from her for a moment. “Dreaming is not as flashy as throwing fire or lightning, but the thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream?” Her eyes flashed with interest, and Ellian was entranced by the wonder in her eyes. “I would not trade it for anything.” Solas paused suddenly and looked away, glancing out over Haven. “I will stay then. At least until the Breach is closed.”

Ellian blinked. “Was that in doubt?”

“I am apostate mage, surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you,” she eyed Ellian’s hand. “I do not have a ‘divine mark’ protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but… you understand my caution.”

“You came here to help, Solas,” Ellian replied, an edge to her voice even she wasn’t expecting. “I won’t let them use that against you.”

Solas was quiet for a moment, studying the Herald. When she spoke again, her voice was low and hushed, with a depth that made Ellian shiver with excitement. “And how would you stop them?”

“However I had to.” And Ellian knew it was true.

Now it was Solas’s turn to be surprised, her dark brows raising. “Thank you.” It was obvious she wasn’t expecting that kind of devotion, and knowing she’d caught the other woman off guard made Ellian smile slightly. “For now,” Solas started again, smirking. “Let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.” 

“You sound disbelieving.”

“I do not have much cause to feel otherwise,” Solas said dryly. “Closing the Breach must remain our primary goal, but… I would hope we might also learn what means were used to create it. Any artifact of such power is dangerous. The destruction of the conclave proves that clearly.”

“I agree. We should recover it, if only to keep it out of the wrong hands.” 

Solas nodded, frowning again. “Leliana’s people have scoured the area near the blast and found nothing. Whatever the artifact was, it is no longer there.” She sighed. “My apologies, Herald. Did you need me for anything?”

“No, I just- I was curious. Am curious. About you.”

“Me? I cannot imagine why…” The sarcasm caught Ellian by surprise, and she let out a short laugh before quickly covering her mouth. “Is there a reason?”

“Do I… need one?”

“You must understand, I take great caution here, and I value my privacy. The future of this Inquisition is unclear, and I… cannot risk putting myself in further danger.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, of course, I just meant… it’s not official business, Solas.”

“I am sorry,” she said, heaving a sigh. “There is so much… fear in the air. What would you know of me?”

The question somehow made Ellian’s excited state even worse. “Why study the Fade? What made you want to do that?”

“I grew up in a small village to the north. There was little to interest a young woman, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined.” There was a note of sorrow now, and she paused before going on. “I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.”

“The spirits must have tried to tempt you.”

She shrugged. “No more than a brightly-colored fruit is deliberately tempting you to eat it. I learned how to defend myself from more aggressive spirits and how to interact safely with the rest. I learned how to control my reams with full consciousness… there was so much I wanted to explore. But eventually i was unable to find new areas in the Fade.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons. First, the Fade reflects the world around it. Unless I traveled, I would never find anything new. Second, the Fade reflects and is limited by our own imaginations. To find interesting areas,” she looked at Ellian again, eyes narrowing slightly, and the expression made her feel much warmer than the cold mountain air ought to allow. “One must be interesting.”

“That is… interesting.”

Solas smirked and looked away from her again, making Ellian curse her nerves. “I am glad you think so. In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the Fade.”

“How so?”

“As a mage, you train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your… indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit.” The phrasing gave Ellian pause, and she raised an eyebrow as Solas went on. “You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads you to a destination you enjoy. As have I.”

“…indomitable focus?”

Solas smirked and shrugged, her tone casual. “Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be… fascinating.”

Ellian blushed vividly and laughed, looking away. “Well, uh… yes. I- perhaps.” Solas tilted her chin up, expression measured but mischievous. This was only making Ellian’s situation worse. “I… have not seen yours dominated either.”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you are not paying close enough attention. Many things have dominated my focus here. Just none that are so obvious to you.”

“What… what do you mean?”

She shrugged again, maddeningly. “If you watch carefully, you may see. Now then, Herald,” she looked over Ellian’s shoulder, and the smaller elf turned to see Cassandra walking towards her. “It appears you are needed elsewhere.” She winked and turned to leave. “Another time then, Ellian.”

“Right, yes…” She watched as Solas left, unable to tear her eyes from the woman’s backside. “Another time.”

if you enjoyed this fic, please hit the reblog button on this post. comments are cool but not necessary -you can leave no tags, a keysmash, or even just 'nice' if you'd like! thanks for your support -arden

[the-outquisitor]

everything but multiples of four who am i?? Ull never know

What a ~mystery~! I don’t know ANYONE who doesn’t like the number 4!

1. Templars or Mages? Srsly??? Mages

2. Mage, warrior, or rogue?I have one of each! Buuuuut rogue, tbh, it’s in my soul

3. Describe your favorite Inquisitor’s personality and backgroundAurora Trevelyan is the youngest child of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick who, despite the expectations of her pious family to join the chantry, trained as a warrior. She is kind and forgiving, but firm and strong in her convictions and her faith. While she is gentle, she is reserved until she learns to trust you, and has a sad air about her.

5. Favorite romance in Dragon Age: Inquisition?Cullen ♡♡♡

6. Favorite romance in Dragon Age 2?Anders ♡♡♡

7. Favorite romance in Dragon Age: Origins?Alistair ♡♡♡ (I, uh…have a Type™)

9. Least favorite Dragon Age character and why?Loghain! Because he planned everything all along, including the enslavement of the elves in Denerim, the poisoning of Arl Eamon, abandoning King Cailan, destroying the Wardens, and allowing Howe to get away with the massacre of the Couslands. In fact, they say that ALL of the King’s advisors are mysteriously out of commission during the Battle of Ostagar, and I’m not convinced that he didn’t have to do with the Arl of Denerim’s death either. AND he gets a free pass. So fuck that and fuck him. :^)

10. Who do you think should become Divine? Leliana please, down with Circles

11. Should Cole become more human or more spirit like? I always make him human because he’s really really suffering when he sees that templar, and ultimately I think Varric is right about helping him through changing himself. Not that I think he couldn’t be happy being a spirit, it’s just that the whole “forgive someone killing you” thing is something I struggle with personally.

13. What was the fate of your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor?Warden: Queen with Alistair and a daughterHawke: Back in Kirkwall with Anders and a daughterInquisitor: Running templar sanctuary with Cullen with a son

14. Qunari, humans, elves, or dwarves?All of the above! Everyone’s great

(Started answering on my laptop at this point, so had to change the spacing)

15. Favorite location in Inquisition?

Wholesome answer? The Frostback Basin. Self indulgent answer? ...The Winter Palace

17. Which characters do you ship and why?

Josephine and Isabela because Isabela would TOTALLY go for seducing a prim and proper lady with a secret penchant for adventure and Josephine would TOTALLY go for making her work for it when Isabela can usually get what she wants pretty easily cause Josephine knows how to play the game. IMAGINE THE BATTLE OF WILLS. And then they can get married and go gay sailing forever.

Sera and Dagna because not only are they canon, but the MAYHEM. ALL OF THE BEES. And they’re cuties

Sigrun and Velanna cause I enjoy ships where one is grumpy and the other is a ball of sunshine and also because both of them deserve love and happiness. 

Maryden-centric polyamorous relationship between her, Cole, and Krem because I enjoy compromise.

And one that I just made up which is Carver and Nathaniel because they both have similar experiences with family and reputation and also because I don’t believe Carver is actually as broody as he’s made out to be and I feel like Nathaniel would appreciate his sarcastic sense of humor. (And also because Nathaniel and Anders def had a fling and how awkward would that make family reunions??? In other words, I live.)

18. Which pairings do you dislike and why?

Varric and Cassandra because WHY???? LIKE OKAY they were both able to move past their fight and their distrust of one another from the beginning, but I don’t see that blossoming into a relationship. I feel like they could be friends, but they do not solve problems or generally go about things the same way, and I can see that becoming an issue. Like Cass is way more strict with her morals and Varric couldn’t give a single fuck, and I feel like when your value systems are that different, there’s gonna be problems. I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

19. In your playthrough, who became the ruler of Ferelden?

Alistair, the right one

21. Which game, in your opinion, is the strongest entry to the series?

AaaaaAAAAHHH THEY’RE ALL GOOD FOR DIFFERENT REASONS. I play Inquisition the most because I’ve played Origins SO MANY TIMES and 2 isn’t as flexible with Hawke’s characterization. But I feel like Origins is the strongest because it establishes a consistent lore and has a good story structure. Also, absolutely nothing is in it or any of its DLCs that doesn’t add to the story, the lore, or the characters in some way.

22. Bethany or Carver?

I have...never played as a non-mage in 2...so I’ve never had Bethany :’(

23. Favorite DLC?

NooOOOO DON’T ASK ME THIS DAMMIT!!! Because Awakening is where I finally developed my Warden, Trespasser is, well, Trespasser, and The Descent is SO GOOD AAAAAHHHHH

I’m, uh...gonna answer this with that, so :P

25. Do you like the Warden, Hawke, or the Inquisitor the most?

26. Did your Inquisitor forgive Solas?

LOL for which fucked up thing? Cause depending on the universe, the answer varies VASTLY. For giving the orb to Corypheus which fucked everything up? Sure, we all make mistakes. For keeping that, his identity, and the nature of the Anchor a secret from her the whole time so she could believe whatever she wanted and not know what was actually going to happen? Probs not. For breaking up with @ravenstag‘s Inquisitor? NEVER.

27. Least favorite quest in the series?

THE ONE WITH THE FADE IN THE BROKEN CIRCLE QUEST IN ORIGINS FUCK ME SIDEWAYS AND BURY ME ALIVE I HATE THAT QUEST SO FUCKING MUCH

29. Describe the appearance and personality of your Warden character.

(All taken from her Charahub page cause I’m lazy)

Shoulder-length brown hair, usually kept in a high ponytail, Dark brown eyes, 5'7" with a slender build

She is mild-mannered and gentle, preferring to take the diplomatic route in a situation if possible. She is good at helping feuding parties find common ground and using logical arguments. She is also very detail-oriented and perceptive, taking in small but important pieces of information almost constantly.Although she knows how to hide her emotions behind a polite smile or a calm demeanor, when she is around her loved ones, she is happy-go-lucky and unrestrained in sharing her affections or making witty jokes. She is also very individualistic and tries to find the value in everyone's personal identity. As a result, she tends to be a good listener and/or a shoulder to cry on. She is very intuitive, sometimes asserting that she just knows what the right choice is. This can lead to her making reckless decisions which have gotten her into dangerous situations. Her penchant for recklessness also comes from a general thirst for excitement, a yearning for more than what was expected of her, and an intensified need to feel alive after experiencing trauma.Because she was taught that duty and loyalty always come first, she detests betrayal in all of its forms and if you betray her trust, which can be given in haste, she will not forgive you and will seek vengeance to one degree or another.

30. Did you side with Briala, Gaspard, or with Empress Celene?

I...may have reconciled Celene and Briala...because I didn’t know better...and because I have no reason to think Aurora would know any better...I kept it that way... Oops...

[kepesh-yakshi]

I’ve been tagged!!!

I was tagged by @wyndx (you’re awesome!) great questions in this one!  I’m going to answer yours, my fair tumbling friend!

Rules:

a) Always post the rules, answer the questions, then write 11 questions of your own.

b) Tag 11 people.

1. Do you have a hobby outside of gaming?

I have a few, though gaming has been taking up most of my recent time.  1) I am a writer by both hobby and pseuo career (aka, I do not yet make enough to cover any bills, but I get something for it sometimes).  2) I love archery, and thus play an archer in most of my games.  My favorite bow is my newest:  a Bear Cruzer, it’s blaze orange, though I don’t count it as one of my “required orange” wearables. To be honest, I like to deck out in all blaze, so other human hunters can see me while most animals can’t discern my orange from actual camo.  3) Most of my work life has been devoted to security of some kind.  I spent ten years with the TSA, and now am in retail security, and though it is my job, it’s also a major interest, and in a way, hobby of mine.  Enough so that I read and chat with others in the field about it.

2. What Dragon Age companion could you see yourself actually hanging out with in real life?

Honestly?  Cassandra.  In real life, my closest friends (I have three) are all tall, strong, beautiful women, all but one are of culture aka, they choose a non-mainstream lifestyle and are proud of their heritage or path or belief(s), yet are still welcoming, open-minded, intelligent, forthright, and forgiving.  Great role models.  I stand 5′8″ - shortest on mom’s side, tallest on dad’s.  Cassandra would be one of those three.  I could see her in modern day calling me for a cuppa coffee and talking about her newest discovery in classic romantic literature.

3. What is your favorite movie?

Shawshank Redemption, hands down.  But...Dumb and Dumber is my favorite laugher.  Arlington Road pisses me off to tears, so it is among my favorites because it moves me so much.

4. Which DA game did you play the most?

Inquisition.  It was my “welcome to DA” game.  I am on Windows 10, and the other games don’t play well with this OS. and that sucks. But I am working on it. Origins, so far, has been a blast to play, so far!  I have not really started DA2.  But I can’t wait to get into it.

5. Would you ever move somewhere else to live?

Yes!  I lived in Durango, before, back in the late 90s.  I’d definitely do it again!  Beautiful place with great people!

6. Do you have any new year’s goals for 2017?

Two:  one is recurring and doesn’t count because I do it every year.  “physically” get back in season.  Enjoy the summer months in a great body, then throw it back to the fat hell in the winter months.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  But this year, my goal is to not have to explain myself for what makes me happy.  I am me, I do me, and if people don’t like it, that’s their shit.  I just dropped a long time friend of six years because she took my self-deprecative humor personally.  Tired of that shit.  I am not a doctor, psychologist, etc, and i don’t want your family drama, and i should not have to explain in detail why i do not wear makeup when YOU KNOW I am transitioned to male.  UGH.  I do not and will not explain myself.

7. Do you have any pets?

One cat.  I rescued her over the summer.  She was five when I met her.  She actually picked me out.  We’ve been best buds ever since.  Her name is Crackers.

8. Where in the world of Thedas would you a)live b)vacation c)avoid?

Live:  southern Marches or northern Fereldan.  Close to water (fishing!!!!) and seems to be a nice easy community gathered around the area.

Vacation:  Nevarra or Western Approach.  Culture and food for the former.  Hunting and endles beauty of the sands for the latter.

Avoid:  seheron.  Stories like what comes out of there kinda push me away.

9. Are you a reader? What is your favorite book?

YES!!!  Classic Lit.  Favoite book is The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay.  A pro hockey player friend gave me a copy.  I’ve shared it with many.  I also love The Count of Monte Christo (Dumas) and The Idiot (Dostoyevsky), but I can’t limit to just three.  I have so many I love and so many I have yet to read.

10. Any secret talents?

I am left handed to a fault -- I crook my hand when I write.  So my secret talent is that I can sign my name upside down, right side up, top to bottom, left to right, and even backwards.  I can also blow bubbles out of my left eye (dog attack severed my tear duct when I was 13). And I was a goalie for an inline hockey team in an all-mens league between 2001-2005.  Once held 6 records before it got popula.  1) most shutouts in a season (36).  2)most wins in a season (36), 3)first female goalie to make it to regionals (lost 2-1 in triple overtime, other goalie bought me dinner, I thought I had a husband at that point LOL)  4) longest game ever played (still in the record books at 4 hrs 36 minutes)   5) hottest game ever played (126* outside)  6)coldest game ever played (-20 outside) -- last two records were october 2003 in Texas within three weeks of each other.  the last three still stand.  LOL.

11. Do you ship any rarepairs?

Rarepairs?  OH like leliana and sera?

My questions:

1. If you could pick any superpower to have what would it be?

to be able to see 5 minutes into the future. 

2. What is your preffered race and class in the DA games? human rogue archer

3. Favorite food? Grilled chicken breast.

4. If you could choose to live in any fictional universe which would you choose? Either Dragon Age or Elder Scrolls

5. Anything you really want to see in DA4? Nevarra

6. Are you in any other fandoms? Elder Scrolls

7. Biggest fear? Death :(  it’s something we all will deal with, but I fear it.  I have heard that fear of it means we have much more to live for, and we need to be stronger in our own personal convictions.

8. First Video Game you ever beat? Legend of Zelda (Adventures of Link) or Shadowrun (on Genesis), I forgot.

9. What’s your hogwarts house? (if you know) Slytherin -- which is funny, because I hated that house in the first movie.

10. Are you a night owl or a morning person? All-nighter, baby!!!

11. What’s the best advice you’ve ever recieved? Don’t give up on you!!!! My 11 Questions (answered) : 1.  Who is your hero? Me, first and foremost.  I’ve been through shit that people often write books about. And I’m still here and still enjoying life. But I also love my life coach, J, who guided me through the process of dropping all hindrances and learning to love my inner child. 2.  Have you ever met someone you looked up to and were happy about it? YES!!!   She left me with some keen advice.  Sylvia Browne is her name. She passed into the next world, so to speak, but when I met her, I was working the walkthrough at TSA, and she was in a wheelchair.  I was pre-transition (I am ftm), and she complimented me on my kindness and asked if she could give a reading.  Of course I agreed, after complimenting her on her books.  She said to me, “you are going to change.  A metamorphosis.  It will be painful but worth it to you.”  Almost exact quote, that was back in ‘08.   She also said that I would be a beacon to others who need to grow out of their boxes if I overcame my own obstacles.  She’s been right so far. 3.  What are your three current favorite songs? Sorry - Justin Bieber (the kid is good, I have to give props here  -- I jam to this) Can I get a - Jay Z (high school favorite, still a favorite) The entire Under Reprisal CD by Threat Signal -- I kill workouts to this CD Anything at all from Fear Factory -- because again I KILL my goals with their music blasting. 4.  Favorite pizza topping? Meat. 5.  Favorite obscure movie? Hmm...The Upside of Anger (Joan Allen and Kevin Costner).  Joan is my favorite actress. 6.  Are you a sports fan at all? YES to almost everything.  I played goalie in roller hockey. 7.  What tumblrs do you follow and love but haven’t given love to? (tag the person) @meridok and @customhawke ... and @my-mother-mercury

damn fine tumblrs, there. 8.  Any crazy bad habits? I bite my nails almost religiously, though they’re quite healthy, despite this. 9.  What career do you think you had in a past life? A scribe or bard.  I love to sing and write, now. 10.  What is your best feat ever?  Ran 2.6 miles in an airport terminal to exchange switched laptops between two high-up people in two major and well-known companies.  Both offered jobs to me afterward.  Hmm, perhaps I should contact now for career purposes. 11.  What is your favorite motivational quote (or one you made up)?

“The ability to not know is an essential quality in learning anything.” -Jeff Brooks  (article here)

My 11 Questions (for those I’ve tagged) : 1.  Who is your hero? 2.  Have you ever met someone you looked up to and were happy about it? 3.  What are your three current favorite songs? 4.  Favorite pizza topping? 5.  Favorite obscure movie? 6.  Are you a sports fan at all? 7.  What tumblr do you follow and love but haven’t given love to? (tag the person) 8.  Any crazy bad habits? 9.  What career do you think you had in a past life? 10.  What is your best feat ever?   11.  What is your favorite motivational quote (or one you made up)?

I’m breaking the rules and tagging less than 11 people (sorry). Tagging:  @meridok @archievement @customhawke @cuddlingcassandra @fereldan-dog-lord @my-mother-mercury @solasofficial @dragonageconfessions @dawriting @earthen-soul @fantasyartwatch

[nobelmemories]

          More Nobel Memories – Along The Nobel Road

                                       Part IV

 I have mentioned in these stories where the Harris’s and Langford’s lived on the old Nobel road in the 1940’s. I am including a picture taken of Herman Harris, Charlie Langford and Lawrence Rosewell, and Doug Langford taken about 1947 when they opened L & H Motors in Parry Sound. I have also included a picture showing a Glacier hole Lawrence and I visited a couple of years ago.

       I thought I would start this sessions with my memories along the Old Side Road (Hammill Ave.) or the Original Nobel Road beginning with houses and places north of Portage Lake Road  (Pineridge Dr.) To begin with I should remind people that they are my memories as I remember them from the early 40’s, their accuracy may have been blurred by time. They are not like telling a fishing story. Those are always different because in a fish story, it is your story and you can make the fish as big as you want, especially if no one else seen it and it got away. If you actually caught it and took it home. There is a requirement to make the story a little more accurate. Especially if there are witnesses. I do try to make my memories as accurate as I can and I do get straightened out by one of my friends or relatives from time to time. Then sometimes we just agree to disagree.

     So here we go heading north on the Old Nobel Rd. on the left there were two houses, within the first two hundred yards.  I can’t remember who lived in the one, but the one which lay about halfway to Hwy. 69 was occupied by a Jack Crawford and family. No relation to the writer. He must have left right after the war ended and the plants closed because I have no memory of them being there after that period. I heard years later that he moved to the Sudbury area to work in the mines. I do remember he shot a good sized bear one time. He had it hanging by the neck with the hide off of it. When you skin a bear, you skin it so that the claws, and head remain with the hide. With these removed, the hanging carcass looks just like a human being. This has always stayed in my memory and every once and a while you will hear on the news of the day, about human remains being found some were. Later you will hear that human remains have been analyzed and found to have been one of a bear. Do not judge too quickly, there are two things at work here, first the shock of finding what you think is human remains, and secondly, there is such a strong similarity.

     Just slightly to the north of the Crawford property was the south end of the old water line that had been run down from the Nobel Plant. (Our bicycle superhighway through the bush.) This area had been cleared at one time and had grown up in thick brush about six or seven feet in height. We kids selected this area as a place to build our town. The water line was our highway and we made narrow trails all through the brush. These were our streets We set up a little town with all the usual businesses you would have in a town. We built little shelves and stocked the businesses with whatever supplies were required. We had signed to identify the streets and businesses. If it was a store we would collect empty containers from our homes or dumps, cereal boxes, cheese boxes, cigar or cigarette cartons. If it was a garage we would haul in old tires, cans or whatever was necessary. We would then barter or sell with imaginary money. I am sure any of the local kids will remember doing this or some of you did similar things. When our younger grandkids came to visit us in later years, I never could understand why they wanted to be entertained. We never seemed to have this problem when we were kids. There was always something to do whether is it was the Tarzan Tree  ( a big beach on the Wright Property) or fishing for chub in Scott's creek. We would find something.

     A few hundred yards north on the water line on the bush side there was an old green shack. It was covered in green rolled roofing. The owner had taken an additional piece of the rolled roofing and cut it in the shape of a big star about 2’ across and painted it silver. He then tacked it on the wall of his shack up about 7’ in the middle of the east wall. I can not remember his name. He mumbled to himself a lot and constantly wore army uniforms of one kind or another. I suspect he was a veteran suffering from PTSD, we called it SHELL SHOCK at that time. Mom always cautioned me to stay away from him as she thought he may have been some kind of child abuser. I and a lot of the other kids did not heed our warnings. In fact, it made us more curious than anything. I got to know him quite well and I never saw him do anything that needed to be worried about. He did fill our heads with good imaginations. He sure could tell good stories. I think for the most part we did not believe the stories but they entertained us something like a comic book of the time would. He didn’t seem to have any money and what he did have came from bottles he had collected or something he found in the dump. We dubbed him The Lone Ranger. He had a little garden which we would help him with sometimes, but other than that he seemed harmless. He snared a few rabbits, often had a little campfire going and that worked well as it always does to attract the kid. Looking back even at my life experiences behind me, I think he was a harmless person, some tragedy had affected his mental outlook and he was lonely.

     On the right a little north of  Jack Crawford’s residence was the Claudney residence. I just remember their daughter as in later years she built a cottage out on Hwy. 69 opposite the Esso and later the Shell service station. She was from Toronto I believe and use to come up and use the cottage as a summer residence. Her first name also eludes me. The Collison family later lived on this property.

     Continuing north of the west side of the road were tow houses I forget the owners of the one, but the other I believe was the Dore’s and later the Kerr residence. I believe the Kerr children I remember was Duncan and Ann. They had lived in the village during the war years and moved to the Side road after. Ann, I believe in later years became a nurse and married Ron Anderson owner of the Island Queen. Switching back over to the east, the other side of the street and another 150 yards north was a small house owned and occupied by Orville Hodgins and family. I believe he had two female children. After the war, the house was torn down and he lived to Espanola for many years.  Coming back to the west side there was a couple house as you traveled a slow corner to the left. I am not sure who was in the first one, it may have been Klingbells, just past their house and set a little further from the road was the Unger’s. I believe they had a son Gerald. Continuing north on the same side and right on a corner was the Chevrette house. It had kind of a barn shaped roof and I think shingle siding. I remember a Ronald Chevrette. This house I think was originally built by Ralph Crawford my uncle. At one time Uncle Sarnie and Ralph had been working together on the local snowplow. In a garage that was on Hammill Avenue on the east side of where Sarnie’s House was. It was a caterpillar type tractor on tracks. It had a V-plow and wings on both sides I think. There was a square metal frame built around it. There was a platform across the back of it that allowed the operators to walk back and forth to operate little hand wenches that operated the wings and v-plow, this allowed you to change the level or angle of the plow. It was still used to plow the old side road, Hammill Ave, and Portage Lake Road when I was a kid. We use to like to see it come through and open up the roads, but when they sanded the road that was not a good thing. It messed up our shiny games, as we use to play them on skates right on the packed ice road. We watched very close and everyone was familiar with the warning call of CAR! When one did come. The goalie would grab the goal posts, ( Someone’s boots ) and everyone would clear the road until the vehicle was gone by.

      To get back to the story, Ralph was doing repairs on the caterpillar plow and attempted to crank start the motor while standing in front of it. It had accidentally been left in gear. It started and pinned Ralph to the wall of the garage, severely damaging his leg. He eventually got gangrene in the wound and it led to his death. This occurred I believe in 1937. I was only a year old but was told that Aunt Annie moved her four children to Parry Sound. Dorothy who married Tommy Green, Bob who married Helen Schell, Jean who married George Watkinson and Gordon who married Fern Culp. Of the four sibblings, Dorothy the oldest is the only one that has not passed on. She is working on her 96th.,year Tommy her husband and a well-known member of DEED Builders is also still alive and with her. They have both moved on to a retirement home not.

     The next house another 150 yds north on the west side was the home of Ken Scott and his wife Rita Bilton. Ken was the son of Henry Scott who lived at the end of Portage Lake Road now Pineridge. The Ken Scott children were  Allan and Sharron. Ken worked at the Crawford Garage and drove schoolbus and did mechanical repairs for Uncle Sarn his brother-in-law. Allan was close to my age and we got in many safari’s together. He had an equal inquisitive mind to mine and we attempted many things better left unmentioned. But we did have a lot of fun. I remember he had a weakness for dill pickles and would do almost anything for one. Lol. We spent many day squirrel and chipmunk hunting with our sling-shots. Bod Foley was often with us. I remember one time we were on a hunt across the road and railroad tracks from the Foley house, near the shore of Simm’s Lake. Bud shot a big red squirrel breaking its back. He ran over and picked it up, cupping it in his hand, allowing its head to come up between his thumb and index finger. The squirrel swiveled its head around and bit him in the webbing of the hand between the thumb and index finger. It must have cut a small artery because every time his heart beat a stream of blood would shoot out about four feet. The squirrel was still holding on, Buf opened up his hand and held it out Allan, saying: Squeeze it to make it let go. Allan reached out then pulled his hand back and said: I can’t, it’s too cute. Bud and I quickly disposed of the wounded squirrel and bandaged the hand up with a hankerchief and went on hunting. If I remember correctly, Bud had a few well chosen words for Allan.

     The long driveway into the Nick Kott farm was located pretty well across the road from Ken Scotts. At one time the Kott farm consisted of a very large field that started north of the Orville Hodgins property to a point north of his driveway and almost back to Scott’s Creek. The end of the field actually extended east of the present north-bound lane of Hwy 400. Most of the field is covered with trees now. There is an interesting hole located at the back of the Kott field. We use to say the Indians ground their corn in these rock formations. I believe they were originally caused by the melting glaciers causing a harder rock of or boulder to spin around in a circle in the same spot grinding a hole into the granite.  These holes come in various sizes. The one back of Kott’s field is formed so you could sit in one hole and put your feet in the other. I have seen others in my travels. One other is just off the north side of Hwy 559 in Carling about a tenth of a mile past the entrance into east Carling Bay Road. It is a little ways off the road on the north side about a tenth of Km past Larry Ritchies.

      About a month ago I was having lunch at the Orillia Costco. We had picked up our lunch but there were no empty tables. I saw a couple sitting at a table that looked to be alone, so I asked if they would mind if we shared theirs. They welcomed us and during our lunch we started conversing. I found out that the man’s name was Billy Carruthers. When he found out I was from Nobel, he told me that during the war his family had lived on the Kott farm. He told me that there had been some pretty lean times there. I also learned that we had gone to the Nobel school together.

     The next house north of the Kott driveway was owned by Jim Odd and his wife. I remember several of their children, there was Edna, Louis, Clayton, Norma and George. They hailed from the town of Restoule and many of them returned there in their later years. I remember spending one Halloween evening there when I was quite young. They had dumped a large number of apples in a wash tub. The girls coached me on how to retrieve the apples with my hands behind my back. As I remember I got quite wet. They were always a friendly fun family. Many of them have passed now but they are still remembered. These kids usually attended our skating partied on Portage Lake, and skiing and toboggan parties on the old golf course.

     The next house on the same side just past the Odds was owned by Norm and Lena Knectel. I spent several deer hunting trips with Norm. He was really good to do more than his share of camp duties and often ended up as camp cook. He loved to tell camp stories. I remember they had hunted a couple of days before I was able to join them at the Van Wagner camp at Deep Bay in Carling. Oscar Mace was telling a story as usual and apparently Norm had missed a deer. I was never sure how much was truth and how much got added on in these stories. Oscar claimed that he had been dogging and came up on a hill where he could look down on Norm standing on his watch. He claimed that the deer ran right across in front of Norm and that Norm instead of shooting the deer, followed its progress with his rifle on it. He kept following the deer with his sights and each time he would yell bang, eject a shell, yell bang and eject a shell again, until the deer was no longer in Norm’s sight. Oscar claimed he knew the cause, it was that all the previous year norm had practiced with an empty rifle at flies on the wall in his house. He would sight at a fly on the wall, call out bang, work the action and got to the next fly. When he got nervous on seeing the deer he did what he had trained himself to do. Whether it was true or not, it was a good story and we all had a laugh at poor Norm’s expense. I do know that Norm was very much in love with hunting and loved to tell his succesful stories which were very entertaining, providing you had lots of time. When Norm told a story he told the whole thing. What time he left where he went, what kind of trees he walked by, where the stumps were, how many bays in the lake he walked around. Plus anything else that came to mind while he was in the process. He did fill out the gang and was a valued memory. Thanks for his presence. I knew all of Norm’s children but always seem to miss one. I remember Glen, Betty, and I think there were two others. Norm’s wife Lena was a sister to Henry Daub and they originally hailed from Nippissing Village, not too far west of Restoule. I met Henry in my later years up at Warren, Ontario. I also remember that Lena was a great friend to my mother, especially in her more senior years. Thank you Lena, you were appreciated. Next to Knectel’s as you started up the big hill on the Side Road was a small cottage and an English Lady lived there, but I cannot remember her name.

     Across the road from Knectel’s was the Gonyavick (not sure of the spelling) residence. I remember them having chickens and one boy I remember who often joined us in our PEE WEE games. I think his name was Wally. I remember there was a trail that went in just north of their house and went from the Sideroad over the pipeline out to Hwy. 69.

     The next house on top of the big hill and close to where Kim Dixon now lives was owned by Herman Harris and his wife. There two children that I remember was Ron and Shirley. Next to them was Charlie Langford and his wife and their children Doug, Joan and Marilyn.

Charlie Langford and Herman Harris started L & H Motors in Parry Sound which Doug and his boys Steve and Bruce later took over. The next house to the north on the west side as you started down the hill, was owned by Joe Emery and his wife and a large number of children whose names have escaped me. I do remember that Joe had quite a drinking problem and at time life was pretty hard for the rest of the family.

     At the bottom of the hill on the east side was the home of Herman Rosewell and his wife Florence Crawford. I have so many wonderful memories of visiting here. This was family to me in the truest sense of the word. Uncle Herman and my dad were good friends as well as being brothers in law. They had started the Crawford Rosewell Hunt camp together on Cranberry Lake, near Marsh Lake in the early forties and hunted there for many years. Uncle Herm was no slouch when it came to telling hunting stories and many a time as a young child I would be sitting on the floor listening to the two men reminisce and tell another hunting story. I remember one time when I was ten or eleven years old going up with my brother Deane, Lawrence Rosewell, probably Otto Kraus and some other boys and we went hunting rabbits with our .22’s back by Scott’s Creek. It was a cold winter day and there was lots of snow on the ground. We had a special spot to cross the creek where a large white pine had a limb that grew out over the creek. It was near some fast water and the ice was not too thick. So we unloaded our rifles and one of the boys swung across with the limb. The rest of us then tossed our rifles across to the first one. Then each of us in turn swung across using the limb. I was the last one to go, I took a run; grabbed the limb and made a mighty swing. I swung across the river okay, but did not let go until I got halfway back. I landed in the middle of the river and broke through the ice into about 4 feet of water. I floundered to shore and we headed back. The closest place was Uncle Herm’s and Aunt Florence’s. Aunt Florence had me strip off and soaked me in warm water in the round laundry tub. It would be quite a sight to do that now. Just believe me. LOL. She then gave me a couple of cups of hot chocolate. I remember I never even got a cold. I was always treated with love and affection in that house. There were three kids in that family. Enid was the oldest, she was the boss and always told us what to do, and still does, but does it with love making it okay. Lawrence was next. He was born on the same day as my brother. May 2, 1934. He was the inventor and fixer up in the family. From as far back as I can remember he was always tearing things apart to fix them. He still is. He is a well known mechanic throughout the area. The difference between Lawrence and most mechanics is that he not only removes and replaces. When you can’t find a part to replace, he will make one. He has a natural curiosity and ability to figure things out. He is generous to a fault. There are not many people in Nobel and area that he has not helped at one time or another. The last child was Rod. Rod was the kid when I was growing up, being just that much younger. In our senior years I have really learned what a great guy his is. There are not many days go by that we don’t make some kind of contact. When we were kids Lawrence made a bobsled, It was about eight feet long and had a short bobsled fixed solid at the rear and another short one that swiveled on the front. We would pile on about eight kids and go down the big hill on the Side road. It would go from the top of the hill almost to Ken Scotts driveway. It was really great until they sanded the roads. I also remember him making a go-kart with the gas engine out of washing machine. There was always some new tool or toy he would come up with. I,m not sure who started it, but I remember we were all good with sling- shots, and before we got our own rifles we would collect empty .22 shells up, we then cut the heads off of the self lighting match heads. We would fill the .22 shells with the match heads, crimp the ends of the shell close, then drop a rock on them. They would go off like a cherry bomb. We got some bigger rifle shells and tried doing the same. We laid the finished product on a flat rock, then got about six feet above it, picked up as big a rock as we could lift and tried to drop it on the shell. It took a lot of rocks before it finally went off. It sounded just like a high powered rifle. For you parents reading this, I don’t think you can still get the right matches to pull this trick. I think it was about 1949 that Uncle Herm and Aunt Florence built a new home and moved the family down to what is now the corner of Lake Forest Drive and Nobel Road. That is the Week’s Construction Yard. This home had some memories for me but the best were at their first house.

     The last story I will tell for this session also involves the Rosewell’s I often think of it this time of year. I was six or seven years old, so it must have been the 24th. Of December 1942 or 1943. I was all excited as the next morning would be Christmas morning. We were living in our house on Hwy 69 just south of what is now Pineridge Ave. We all got dressed up in our Sunday best. Mother had on a wool coat with a heavy weave, it was  brown with a full fur collar. She had on a nice flowered dress scarf and a blue hat with a fancy twirl to it. She had on what looked like swede overshoes with a ring of fur around the top of it. Dad had on dark coloured galoshes that pulled over his shoes, heavy dark pants and a full length overcoat that was heavy like the old army trench coats. He was wearing a fedora. My brother Deane and I were similarly dressed in ski jackets and wearing a helmet type hat. My jacket was brown in colour. We were going to Uncle Herman’s and Aunt Florences for Christmas Eve supper. I knew Lawrence would come up with something exciting to do. We walked up to there house on the Side road, had supper and headed back somewhere between 8 and 9 PM. I think it was around Chevrette’s corner that it really started to snow heavy. Within a matter of minutes you could see your tracks. The four of us were talking and laughing, because of the evening well spent and the impending Christmas morning. It is one of my most memorial memories and I recap it each year at this time.

So much happiness, so much love. I wish all of my readers a similar memory and a very  Merry Christmas. Garry

[dragon-age-sideblog]

How about 01, 03, 05, 08, and 15 from the OC question thingy for your fav inquisitor?

oh thank goodness u said my fave bc i have ? i think 18 total now (i have no chill and i need to be stopped) bUT SINCE I HAVE 2 FAVES THAT ARE TIED RN

ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH OMG I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY INQUISITORS

1. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded?

Plaio Lavellan - so? his name kinda has symbolism bc one of my friends i call her palio but i often misspell it when i’m typing it so it ends up Plaio and also i just really like the way it sounds when i say it

Kiilani Cadash - i have no clue tbh where i came up with this name? like i think there was a reason but? do not remember. Either way i like it how sounds

3. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves?

Plaio - his entire face bc he knows hes drop dead gorgeous (he’s the one as my icon rn) but also he is v proud of vallaslin and his Dalish heritage so also that

Kiilani - HER GUNS (arm muscles lmao) bc HELLO SHE CAN JUST FIGHT WHOEVER also PICK UP WHOEVER (Josephine) i mean?? Gotta have some nice arm muscles to swing around a battleaxe that’s 2x ur size, yeah?

5.  Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type?

Plaio - lol he was so shy his first time (with Cassandra) bc he is a nervous cute lil bean and he didn’t really? Know exactly for sure what he was doing bc he had only been with one other person before and it was a man but !! after a few times he is MUCH more confident (thanks Cass) and is more ? open about what he wants

Kiilani - look this girl has no shame when it comes to sex so definitely more confident. she’ll tone it down around Josie tho since she knows Josephine is a bit more… reserved? but believe me. She is confident about what she wants. (Also: she flirts with EVERYONE)

8. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it?

Plaio - His biggest flaw is that he is too forgiving - in fact, he is able to forgive and forget anything even though it has costed him before. While it is admirable and a good trait to be able to forgive people, he does it to the extent that he (and the Inquisition) gets hurt from it (which, wow same bud). Another flaw of Plaio’s is that he gives everything his 110% like, he will completely exhaust himself (sometimes even to the point of near-death) to achieve his goals. Also he is extremely sarcastic and it sometimes upsets people but that is how he copes with the stress of being Inquisitor is by making jokes

Kiilani - she is definitely the type of person to act first and think/talk later and this has definitely caused some issues especially since she now is a figurehead that is supposed to be civil and responsible. She becomes aware that this is a problem the first time Josie tells her she cant call nobles every insult under the sun and then expect them to make an agreement. 

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear.

Plaio - He doesn’t remember the name of the person but it was a young, dumb, teenage human noble that decided it would be funny to torment all of Plaio’s clan when he was a younger child (about 6 or 7 years old). The noble brat stole their food, slashed some of the wings on their aravels, broke his first ever bow in half, and spit on his mamae. The asshole and his friend also called the clan every insult imaginable then left - but Plaio still remembers the whole incident. He has never trusted nobles (or humans, really) since then and has always been more cautious around humans. He told Cassandra about it after Empress Celene’s Ball (wicked eyes and wicked hearts. also? I’m pretty sure the ball had an actual name but?? i do not remember it ofc) because she wondered why he was so uneasy (because he hadn’t acted that way around other nobles before, or even acted that way about being the center of attention). So, he explained how the dumb noble brat humiliated him and his clan and how he can handle a noble or a two at a time but? an entire palace? No Thanks.

Kiilani - Beraht. Okay SO SOME HELLA HEADCANON TIME Kiilani is a Cadash and her family was a part of the Carta. Her father and older brothers especially were a part of the Carta and it’s dealings, and they would often smuggle lyrium and other goods on the Surface. However, I headcanon that they still worked with Beraht (!! from Origins lmao) way back in like 9:30-9:31ish Dragon (before the warden, if a dwarf commoner, killed him). One day Kiilani’s father was short on some of the money that he owed Beraht from the lyrium dealings on the surface, and Beraht sent some of his assassins to kill Kiilani’s father and one of her brothers. Kiilani was only about 12 when this happened and she has been angry about it ever since. She had to begin work with the Carta about two years later (as hired muscle, since she refused to smuggle like her father and brothers; still, her mom was disappointed in her for choosing that lifestyle) so that her, her mom, and her other two brothers did not starve. Although she knows that Beraht is dead (if dwarf commoner warden lol idk if he dies otherwise) she still hates him and his name