#I also have a Dorian slowly cooking

[yprkaz]

[solarwreathe]

searching for leviathan bones in the hebra tundra. from my oc zelda fic which you can find here

lore under the cut

the fur hood was made from a great-horned rhino. they resided in the highlands and hebra mountains until gleeoks and people hunting them (estan's silence on this topic is deafening) drove them to near extinction.

aubri and her yiga companion (his alias is twigs. i'm tired of calling him data expunged that bit has ran its course) encounter one of the last on their hebra trek, having barely escaped a gleeok, but slowly dying from its wounds. twigs wants to save it (misanthropic vegan that he is) but aubri elects the humane choice would be a mercy kill.

after which they clash again over their beliefs; aubri thinks every part of it should be made use of: cook its meat, sell its valuable tusks, make armour from its hide. because it's dead anyways who gaf. but twigs believes every part of its body needs a burial to pass on.

eventually she compromises to just shave its mane - it's not technically a fixed part of its body so it doesn't count.

burial is as important to the yiga as it is for the sheikah - fail to do so and they'll remain in this world as malevolent spirits. i think even if they killed link they'd give him that rite purely because they'd otherwise be haunted by his unfunny pranks for eternity.

it's also why they left dorian's wife in the underground well labyrinth - they knew she'd be a particularly determined vengeful spirit even when buried, so it keeps the spirit lost.

and if you got this far: bonus doodles!

[senseandaccountability]

Ficlet: Ever on

Solavellan tears and therapy in 500 words, post-Trespasser, pre-Veilguard. Also here on AO3.

And life, as it does, goes ever on.

They work, they travel, they stay with the people that became their home.

They’re not lonely.

Dorian introduces her to a widower in his closest circle of acquaintances - Silus, a fellow rift mage who is a fair bit older than her and carries a sadness that doesn’t quite go away even as the years pass by. It suits her well.

Silus is kind and somber, clever and generous. They don't love each other and it's a blessing. She is free to go at any given moment, he in turn frequently visits a man in Antiva, a girl in Jader. But in Minrathous they share each other's solitude: they cook splendid suppers and assist each other with magical research and when the mood strikes them - less frequently these days, their passion was never strong to begin with and there’s just so much else to do - they share a bed.

They all reside in a large villa that Dorian keeps as some sort of headquarters for the assorted activities they occupy themselves with. Whenever Bull is around, he stays for months - once he stays a whole year and Dorian’s laugh is different then, fuller and warmer.

It’s a busy household, a busy home.

Ellana finds that she enjoys getting lost in it, enjoys living in it - more so than she ever did enjoy life with a clan.

She brings in orphans and makes them apprentices, teaches them old elven magic and new Tevinter one alike; in the autumns they travel out to the forests to practise Dalish spellweaving among the falling leaves and in the winters Ellana tries to teach them how to cook and preserve nature’s bounty. Two of the older kids manage to make hearth cakes without the halla butter and present it to her as a gift made for a god, kneeling in front of her, cheeks rosy and eyes glittering. There's a brief sting deep in her chest then, memories of being a Herald, of being with him. Lady Lavellan, they call her. She lets them. The title Inquisitor fades slowly and she welcomes the shift.

Silus hides escaped slaves and apostates in the spare bedrooms upstairs and Dorian hosts meetings that grow more radical by the month, involving the Shadow Dragons as well as several foreign groups working for the same goals.

“Abolish all slavery, overturn the Magisterium, justice for common people - who would have thought this?” She teases him as he wraps up a large gathering that had lasted three days and required so much wine and protective wards that they will have to do without both for a little while.

“Ah.” Dorian wraps an arm around her shoulder; he smells of brandy and embrium and whatever fragrance it is that Bull keeps using when he dresses up. “You know who inspired me, don’t you?”

And Ellana nods. She knows. Solas, too, she thinks.

“Funny, that.”

—

She still talks to Solas every night; he still visits her dreams.

If someone asked her to separate the threads of reality from the fabric of the Fade itself, she isn’t certain she could.

Or would.

One day she will face him in the physical world again, this she knows. She will look him in the eyes then. Bring her good hand up to cup the back of his head to pull him closer, run her fingers over the long-forgotten freckles on his skin. In her dreams she counts them, but she won't, not then.

“Have I proven you wrong yet, vhenan?” she will ask him, and he will answer that she has and all of this will change, again.

Until then she has a life to live.

And life, as it does, goes ever on.

[callmearcturus]

i am sick as fucking hell today so here's my ranking of S-Links so far

caveats: Aigis STILL hasn't fucking unlocked, i'm only halfway thru mitsuru's, and one-third thru yukari's.

Best to Worst:

The Magician, Junpei: I am still flabbergasted at how fucking good his arc is. The fact that in the penultimate slink scene he recognizes the specific way he's been disrespectful to you and meaningfully apologizes for it is not remotely what I expected out of him. Also I somehow got spoiled very early that he wasn't a romance option, and (I can't believe I'm making this comparison) just like Dorian in Dragon Age: Inquisition, it made it feel fun and safe to play-flirt and joke with him, safe in the knowledge it wouldn't go awry. Junpei is my fucking bro, my ride or die.

The Star, Akihiko: Predictable since I am currently evaluating his entire romance against my other favorite romances in video games (I don't think he beats Garrus and The Transistor, but he's top five). Slowly unraveling this boy is delightful, and honestly the way he turns as you get to know him better is very marked and obvious. He goes from relying on his one hyperfixation to communicate, to opening up and sometimes being genuinely so fucking smooth and romantic, it threw me for a loop. Least neurotypical person in the cast.

The Hermit, Saori: From the moment she said a Bad Word I was in love. I like how... careful you have to be with her, how she is very aware of her faults, of the fact she's a doormat, and the reasons she has become that way. Saying goodbye to her was genuinely very fucking sad and I miss her. Would dump Akihiko for her if I could. (Tho even more I want them to meet, could you IMAGINE.)

The Priestess, Fuuka: I love this girl so fucking much. The steel core of her underneath of the self-doubt is wonderful to see. Also the specific way she sucks at cooking and almost locks up from the failure tracks as very real. It does suck to rope someone else into helping you with something and then seeing how good that person is at the thing. Also her slink is so close to a romance, I'm mad about it. LEMME DATE HER.

The Moon, Shinjiro: Ah, the urge to help people vs the urge to be a bitch. Who can't relate to that. Especially given the inevitable end of his arc, the specific way Shinjiro is trying to keep people from relying on him or expecting anything from him... hitting facefirst into the wall of how goddamn fucking reliable he is, it's great. Glad I maxed this one out.

The Tower, Mutatsu: I really like that you're basically therapizing this old monk just by.... being a mirror to reflect his questions back at him. You do very little to help him honestly, you just exist nearby and thus inspire him to challenge himself and better himself. He just needed someone to talk to! Also its funny to imagine FemPC just hanging out in his booth for a few weeks. What a duo.

The Sun, Akinari: Did NOT like this one at first, but wow the actual final thought of it, the idea that.... death is inevitable, and you will never know your purpose, and you will never see your purpose, but you do have purpose. That was surprisingly affecting. Also WAS HE A GHOST THE WHOLE TIME? WHAT WAS WITH THAT? Wacky.

The Chariot, Rio: Oh Rio, I wish I could rank you higher, girl. I really like Rio and think she's actually an incredible example of the Chariot, but in the way I enjoyed being careful with Saori, there were times I wanted to smack Rio upside the head. Because she's making progress, she's getting there, but it's almost entirely without you. You're there to support her and that's great but you cannot fucking challenge her at all ever or she'll get upset. Just frustrating.

The Devil, Tanaka: This one was so fucking weird but enjoyable? But there's no depth here. It's just weird and fun!

Strength, Koromaru: I'm not a dog person but this is a good dog. Also while I didn't vibe with the plot around Koromaru, the way he incited conversation with other characters was great.

Justice, Ken: I'm about... 4 or 5 into this one? And the point seems to be "ah, the trauma of growing up too fast." Which yep. That's a thing. Wish this slink wasn't like pulling teeth.

The Emperor, Hidetoshi: I'm bored to tears and I'm never gonna finish this one. Hidetoshi is a tool, I'm not interested.

The Hierophant, the Old Couple: this one is straight up poorly written. It's just so fucking poorly written I don't know if something went seriously awry in localization or if it was just that bad. I maxed it out and I regret it.

The Hanged Man, Maiko: HEY YO WHAT WAS UP WITH HER DAD HITTING HER AND THE "BEST" OPTION BEING "That's mean!" OH BITCH IS IT MEAN TO HIT A CHILD? OH DANG I HAD NO IDEA.

Temperance, Bebe: The degree to which I failed out of this slink cannot be overstated. When Bebe calls me, I turn him down every time even if I have NOTHING else to do that day. This slink feels offensive to like five different groups of people. Nope. Not doing it. Bye.

I thiiiiiiink that's all the ones I have an opinion on. /jazzhands

Say What About:

Yukari: I bounced off her early because she gave me huge Best Friend Who Quietly Hates You vibes. She gets great development in the main story tho so I'm working on hers.

Aigis: Hasn't unlocked.

Mitsuru: IT TOOK ME UNTIL FUCKING, WHAT, NOVEMBER TO GRIND ACADEMICS? OH MY GODDDDD the stat threshold for her is literally just to fucking high.

Ryoji: Gave me the creeps so I fully skipped everything after the mandatory unlock!!!! Don't like him!

[bumblesimagines]

Forgotten Fairytale

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

I'm not afraid of this series not becoming as well loved as Green Thumb and I don't expect it to be popular. I've had the idea stuck in my head for a while and I'm getting it all out.

~

You looked over the artifacts the school had stored. You gave a small scoff, shaking your head as you noticed things that didn’t belong in a school.

“They call us thieves and hoarders yet half this shit was stolen off a corpse.” You muttered, stopping in front of a glass case protecting a sword.

“I wouldn’t suggest stealing that. It’ll be obvious.” You turned towards the redhead, sighing and tilting your head as she walked towards you.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” You looked back at the sword, eyes raking over it. 

“You know what this is?” You asked. Hope stood beside you, looking down at the sword. She shook her head, pursing her lips slightly.

“A man named Lord Jameson Wraith owned this sword. He was… a hunter of sorts and specialized in killing dragons. When he stabbed this through the chest of a dragon, the sword would light up and the dragon would burn from the inside. A gruesome, slow death. We were hunted like all others but it wasn’t just to protect humans. We were hunted for our meat, our teeth, and our scales. Humans declared war on us and when we fought back, we were erased from everyone's minds and deemed fairy tales where we continue to be killed by a so-called knight.” You explained, running your finger over the glass. 

“Some dragons were able to survive Malivore but as soon as they shifted… They were taken. They disappeared and left no trace.” You turned to look at Hope. The redhead stayed silent, a frown etched on her face.

“I’m sorry you lost your father. We’re working on finding Malivore and when we do, there’s a chance you’ll be able to see your father again.” Hope said softly, gaze still trained on the sword. 

“Where’s your mother? Alaric mentioned she was a vampire.”

“I was never able to meet her but.. I believe she’s dead.” You walked around the case, looking back up at Hope. You locked eyes with her, hearing her clear her throat.

“I’m sure she would’ve wanted to be in your life.” Hope offered a small smile, nails gently tapping against the case. 

“Are you being nice to me cause you need to find out more about me?” You asked, head tilting. Hope cocked a brow, eyes rolling as she turned away from you.

“Alaric really doesn’t trust me, does he?”

“He trusts you more than I do, that’s for sure. It’s just too much of a coincidence for you, a dragon, to show up when we’re dealing with monster after monster. If it weren’t for Alaric, I would’ve already done a spell on you.” Hope said as she walked around the room, features hard and serious. 

“A little witch spell wouldn’t work on me. You haven’t been trained to deal with dragons. If I was really one of those monsters, why didn’t I burn the building down and search for whatever it is that you have?” You asked curiously. Hope didn’t answer, thinking for a moment.

“Because you’d need to know if it was hidden.”

“Alaric asked if I felt a pull to this place. I suppose that means I would feel a pull towards the artifact, right?” You slowly walked towards her, a soft chuckle leaving you.

“You can kick and scream all you want, Red. I’m here to stay, whether you like it or not.” You reached out, twirling a strand of her red hair around your finger. Hope grabbed your wrist, pushing your hand away.

“You’re up to something and I’m gonna figure out what it is.” Hope sneered, eyes narrowed. She turned around, walking towards the doors. She almost bumped into a man on her way out, quietly apologizing before moving past him. The man entered the room, clasping his hands together. 

“I’m Dorian Williams, the liberian and occasional substitute teacher.” Dorian introduced himself, finding a table and taking a seat. He motioned for you to sit across from him. You did so, taking a seat and crossing your arms as you eyed him.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, (Y/N). I do have some suspicions that you might be after the artifact but.. You’re a kid. A kid who lost their father and wants answers. I’m not here to interrogate you about your intentions.” Dorian explained, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. 

“Do the other students know what I am?” 

“News spread like wildfire here, especially amongst the students so.. Yes, most likely. I can assure you that you’ll be treated like any other student-”

“So, Hope goes around telling every student she’s gonna figure out what they’re up to? No wonder she’s not popular.” Dorian let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“I promise Hope isn’t always like that. The monster problem we’ve been having has everyone on edge. Do.. Do you know anything about Malivore?” Dorian asked, sitting up and leaning forward. 

“I thought you weren’t gonna interrogate me.” You tilted your head, brow cocked. Dorian hummed softly, nodding. 

“Alright, we can talk about something else. The neck is a dragon's soft spot, right?”

“Depends.” You answered, licking your lips as you reached up to touch your necklace. 

“If a dragon is older and stronger, a hit to the neck isn’t gonna hurt them much. It might piss them off and they could lose their ability to speak or even stop them from breathing fire cause it’ll hurt to do so. We can still kill someone by stepping on them or snacking on them. We were on the top of the fucking food chain and humans just couldn’t deal with that.” 

“I’m not your enemy, (Y/N). I want to believe I can trust you. You’re a child and like all children, you need guidance. I see a lot of rage built up inside you. I can tell from the way you interacted with Hope and from what I heard. Landon and Rafael aren’t your enemies. They’re new and they have a rough past. The first dragon they met wanted to burn them into a pile of ashes so.. I’d say they’re being pretty welcoming.” Dorian held a soft yet stern gaze. It was obvious that he sympathized with you but at the same time, he wasn’t gonna deal with an attitude.

“Tell me about your father. What was he like?” Dorian asked softly. Your gaze dropped to the table, fingers squeezing around the key. 

“I’d appreciate it if everyone could stop talking about him as if he’s dead.” You breathed out, standing up abruptly as your eyes began to sting from tears.

“I don’t need to be welcomed into this school. I’ve been to high school before, I’m not some little kid whose hand needs to be held.” You walked out of the room, heading back to your dorm room. You entered the dorm, shutting the door behind you. You sniffled softly, walking towards the window and opening it. You stepped out, taking a seat on the roof. You brought your knees up to your chest, feeling the wind gently hitting your face. 

“The key to food is passion, remember that (Y/N).”

“I thought it was seasoning.” You grinned as you watched your father cook. He hummed, nodding with a chuckle.

“It is but food from a chef who feels no passion for it will taste bland and bitter. It’s the same with any other job. If you hate it, it’ll show and you’ll only hurt yourself. That’s why I always tell you to look for things you’re interested in.” (F/N) said, handing you a wooden spoon so you could help with stirring the soup.

“What was mom passionate about?”

“Your mother was.. She was a hurricane.” He began, sighing deeply. “She destroyed everything in her path and took down anyone in her way. Not many people have fond memories of her but I saw the good in her. I didn’t love her romantically but I considered her a good friend of mine. I’ll always be grateful to her for giving me the best gift a man could ever have.” You smiled widely, chuckling softly and rolling your eyes. (F/N) smiled softly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“No treasure could ever compare to you.” 

You bit your bottom lip, letting out a shaky sigh. You weren't used to being alone. Your father had always been there to back you up, to support you, and to provide comfort when you needed it.

“Christ, pull yourself together. You come from dragons and a psycho vampire.” You mumbled, carefully going back inside. You picked up the phone, turning it on and waiting for it to power on completely. You responded to a text, watching a call pop up. You clicked the green button and held the phone up to your ear.

“I thought you said it was stupid to be in contact.” You took a seat on the bed.

“Yeah, well, I was expecting you to be back by now. You do know your fathers return lies in your hands, right? Only I can help you get him back but I’ll only do that if you give me what I need.”

“I have a plan-”

“Speed up that plan before I change my mind, (Y/N). While you were on your way to the school, I bumped into some of your new friends. They were a redhead and an older man. I believe the girl went by the name Jessica but I doubt it was her real name.” You let out a deep sigh, head tilting upwards. Hope Mikaelson was gonna be a real pain in the ass.

“Yeah, I’ve met the redhead.” You breathed out, dropping your head and pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“I just need you to relax, Ryan. I’ve got it handled but I really don’t need you fucking things up for me. You just keep up your end of the deal and I’ll keep up mine. You might be able to save my father but I can also keep you from helping yours.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact. Don’t bother me again unless it’s an emergency.” You pulled the phone away from your ear despite Ryan continuing to talk. You hung up and tossed the phone to the side, burying your face in your hands. 

“Am I paying for my mothers crimes?” You whispered. You flinched when you heard two knocks on the door, standing up and approaching it. You opened the door, staring at Josie.

“What do you want, baby face?” You asked with a frown, looking down at the ice cream tub in her hands. Josie’s brows furrowed at the nickname but she ignored it, choosing to raise the tub. 

“I.. I kind of eavesdropped on you and Dorian and saw you rush out. Ice cream always makes me feel better when I’m feeling down, so I brought you some.” Josie shrugged lightly. You blinked, opening your mouth but nothing came out. 

“If you don’t like ice cream then I could see if-”

“Thanks.” You cut her off, watching her relax and give a small smile. Josie nodded, perking up when you stepped aside so she could enter. Josie looked around the room, humming. 

“If you want, we could go shopping for some decorations tomorrow after school.” Josie said, moving one hand under her skirt as she sat down. You nodded, taking a seat beside her and subtly turning the phone off. Josie opened the lid of the tub, handing you a spoon and giving a small shy smile.

“Well, Welcome to Salvatore School. I’m pretty sure dad is still figuring out your class schedule.” 

“Dad?”

“Oh, uhm, the headmaster is my dad.” Josie shrugged, digging her spoon into the ice cream. Your brows raised, a small smile spreading across your face. 

“Really? You look nothing like him.. Which is a big compliment.” You grinned as Josie let out a soft giggle. Things were definitely starting to look up.

[tomtenadia]

Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go. 

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.” 

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

[yudol-skorbi]

your adaar, a baby, tell me more plz!!

YESS YEESSSSSS I'VE BEEN WAITING THIS QUESTION FOR MY WHOLE LIFE BUCKLE UP GUYS, IT'S TIME FOR MY MEDIOCRE ENGLISH

Than Addar the baby my poor tender son boy

lets start with some fun facts

-24yo at the start of the game - a very good cook - loves animals - better communicates with them than with people - his favorite mount is a Abyssal Hang-Tooth dracolisk named Goldie (because of color) - quiet voice, bad posture, very nervous - very tactile, but knows that he looks quite threatening, so doesn't act on it - withdrawn and reserved, trusting anyone is hard for him - VERY polite, even faced with rudeness - very soft and compassionate - full of unrequired love -anxious but fake it until you make it so he slowly starts being more confident - hates attention, being public and religious figure is a pure torture for him - Winter palace?? He prefers death - Still did his best because hyper-responsibility - he is trying like SO HARD oooh my poor boy he is doing hes best, very hard on himself - afraid to let everyone down, to fail their expectations - believes in Andraste but doesn't like church as an organisation - sincerely hopes that he really is the herald of Andraste because it helps him to make sence of his own existence - really embarrassed about his lack of knowledge of magic, especially while working with such a brilliant minds like Solas, Vivienne and Dorian, but very eager to learn - Better gets along with honest and straightforward people, that's why he quickly became friends with Cassandra and Sera -always puts the needs of others above his own to the point where this can become unhealthy - that's why he hired the Chargers despite being terrified of Bull - somehow after a long long time and couple of booze Than suddenly realized that counts him amongst his friends - romancing Dorian - for a long time Than was terrible lovesick mess around him - the boy is mesmerized - he was fully prepared to be rejected and take it as a grown up and not to cry in his room for the next week - he was not rejected! what a surprise!

and now the backstory

I couldn't find any info about Tal-Vashoth who are not mercenary, but i really wanted to give Than a happy childhood so fuck it. Let's say his parents somehow got a little farm in Free Marches far away from any civilization. Than loved his parents with whole heart and they tried to do everything they could for him to grow up happy and carefree even if they had a very vague concept about parenthood. So the boy played with goats and chickens, helped his parents farm and had pretty idyllic childhood

until his parents was killed

I think after the Qunari attack on Kirkwall may have occurred a wave of hatred towards everything big gray and horned and Than's family become an easy target for scared and angry people. He newer get to know why and how murderers end up in their home because the second Than saw his family being murdered his magic was awakened and in a fit of uncontrollable rage and sadness and desperation he burned down the attackers along with the farm and with bodies of his parents. After this Than went on a run. He was terrified, and lost, alone and so so sad and scared. He traveled through little towns while trying not to bring any attention. Somewhere around this timeline he turned to faith because the thought about Maker giving him magic for a reason and watching over him brought him comfort. I think he could find temporary shelters in small churches but he never stayed for long because he was afraid someone would find out he is a mage and he would be sent to Circle.

After some time he stumbled upon a Tal-Vashoth mercenary group who decided to take him in (he was 17). There was a Saarebas in the group who taught Than the basics about how to use his magic but with knowledge he also passed those fucked up Qun opinions about mages (well not all of them but some. i think even even if they don't follow the Qun anymore it's not easy to just forget or rework some core beliefs that they learned from early childhood) So Than had become very strict to himself and used his magic very reluctantly and tentatively. Also that is why his knowledge of magic is very limited. Saarebas's don't use spells and staffs, so Than only knows some basics spells that he overlooked somewhere along the way

Now i have a whole another essay about how his views changed during the events of the game and how meeting Solas, Vivienne and especially Dorian affected them but my brain is literally on fire from all of this translation, i didn't have much sleep for a while and this gets just too long, so if anyone interested i will write more, but for now??? I'm tired, but also really really happy about this ask, so thank you very much!!!!!

This playthrough is still in progress because at some point i was like huh i want to play DAO as Amell and now when Amell is on the Deep Roads i decided to return to my son. And I'm really looking forward Trespasser! That will be a lot of fun. For me at least. Than probably will get another mental trauma or smth

anyway please have some doodles i have lots of them but i'm too lazy to scan

also this is how his parents look like their names are Vat and Meraad bc i am the most original human in the world

they traveled a lot together before they decided to have a baby and start a more stable life

unintentionally they turned out very cool and pretty and now i feel bad about killing them for the drama :/

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

When I Rush (I Rush For You)

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: scent Relationship: geralt x jaskier Rating: explicit Content Warnings: sex pollen (of sorts), dubcon (due to sex pollen) Summary: Jaskier recieves a gift from a concerned shopkeeper and it has unforeseen effects on his Witcher.

also on ao3

The sun is already going down when they finally stop for the evening. Geralt is still grouchy about the incident with the blacksmith and his silence has only made the afternoon drag on. Well, that and the mysterious bottle tucked away in the bottom of Jaskier's pack. It's been waiting there for him for the better part of the day, having been given to him by a shopkeeper that morning with only this should help as an explanation. Help with what, he doesn't know, but he hopes it will calm Geralt down a little. They had been arguing at the time, so maybe.

And now that they've stopped moving, Jaskier is itching to see what it is. So once the fire is lit and Geralt has gone off to hunt for their supper, Jaskier digs the bottle out to inspect it. Unopened, it's completely innocuous. The liquid inside is clear and for a moment, Jaskier wonders if he's been duped. When he tips the bottle upside down, it looks like nothing more than water and he frowns at it. Well, there's only one way to know for sure.

He uncorks the bottle and lifts it to his nose. It doesn't smell of anything either, but when he tips a small amount onto his hand to taste it, it's a strange combination of bitter and sweet. Not water then.

He's running through a mental list of things it could be when he notices the scent for the first time. It's faint and not unpleasant but seems to arise out of nowhere. Jaskier shuts his eyes and tries to figure out where it's coming from, but whenever he moves it seems to grow fainter. It's not until he's corking the bottle again that he realizes the scent is stronger when he lifts his arms.

He turns his palm over, inspecting the area where he dumped the liquid and lifts it to his nose. Oh. That's definitely the source of the scent, although it doesn't make much sense. The liquid has no scent of its own, but maybe it's some fancy new perfume? Though the shopkeeper had said it should help with the tension between them and Jsskier doesn't see how perfume could help. But it smells rather nice, so he tips the bottle and rubs it into his neck and wrists. No one else but Geralt is around, but there's no reason not to smell nice just for himself.

Tucking the bottle back into his pack, Jaskier rises to his feet to finish going about his tasks. He lays out their bedrolls and gets a fire pit prepared, but he doesn't light it yet. It's a warm night and they'll need the fire for cooking rather than heat tonight.

And as the minutes drag by, it seemingly gets hotter. Jaskier's skin prickles with it, but he just sheds his doublet and doesn't think any more of it. Not, at least, until Geralt returns with a scowl on his face.

Geralt drops the rabbits he’s carrying and immediately frowns over at Jaskier. He looks tense, more so than when he left, which doesn't make any sense.

"Do you smell that?" he grunts and Jaskier lifts his wrist instinctively, sniffing it and holding it out.

"My perfume?" he asks and Geralt immediately shakes his head.

"No, it's something else." After glowering around the campsite, he seemingly shrugs it off and goes back to preparing dinner.

Jaskier sits and watches, taking note of each little movement of Geralt's hands and there's something inherently sexy about the way he moves. He's hyper-focused on it, his breath coming a little quicker, and it's not until Geralt sits up again that Jaskier realizes he's getting turned on watching Geralt prepare raw meat. He wrinkles his nose at himself and turns away. Maybe he just needs to get off. It has been a while, after all, and the incident with the blacksmith certainly didn’t help. That’s all it is. Or, at least, that's the only good reason he can come up with for his reaction to skinning rabbits.

He's lost in thought, thinking back to his almost-encounter with the blacksmith in town, when he realizes Geralt is on his feet again, wandering around the site. And Jaskier knows the look in his eyes; Geralt is searching for something. And he's sniffing. Jaskier is about to speak up again, suggest that the only thing that's changed is his perfume, but then Geralt is right up in front of him, bending and tipping Jaskier's head to one side to smell him.

"It is you," he accuses and Jaskier shrinks back.

This close, Jaskier can feel the intense heat radiating from Geralt's body, which is unusual unless he’s asleep. His eyes flick up and he's met with blown pupils, so focused on him that it makes Jaskier shiver despite the heat. He reaches out, pressing a hand to Geralt's shoulder and nearly withdraws immediately. Geralt's shirt is soaked through with sweat and Jaskier starts to worry. He was fine when he left, what happened in the hour he was gone?

"Geralt, are you-?" he's cut off as Geralt leans into his neck, breathing deeply. Geralt's nose brushes against his skin and Jaskier bites his lip to hold back a moan. It takes an enormous amount of strength, but he presses both hands to Geralt's chest, pushing him back gently.

"Okay," he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. He keeps his eyes off Geralt as he speaks. "Please explain to me what's going on." Because I'm trying very hard to hold onto my self-restraint here.

"What have you been doing?"

"Nothing," Jaskier squawks.

"Then why do you smell like... that."

"Like what? All I'm wearing is this perfume, Geralt."

Geralt leans in again, nuzzling against his neck and if Jaskier didn't know better, he would swear he hears a low rumbling purr coming from the Witcher. Jaskier rises to his feet and pushes him away because this is cruel and unfair and he doesn't want to take advantage of whatever this is, but he can hardly be expected to control himself with Geralt nuzzling into his neck like this. Geralt stumbles a little and stares back at him in shock as if some spell has been broken.

Well, that's something.

But then Jaskier's eyes drop and he realizes with a start that Geralt is hard in his trousers and that's... not helping matters.

"Geralt," he says slowly, "what's going on?"

"This perfume," Geralt snaps, "where did you get it?"

"The shopkeeper back in Dorian. He said it would help. With what, I don’t-"

"Show me."

Jaskier nods and drops to pick up his bag, digging the bottle out to present it to Geralt. Geralt takes it and turns it over in hand hands before opening it and sniffing the lip of the bottle.

"It didn't start to smell until you put it on your skin," he says and Jaskier isn't sure if it's a question or not, but he nods anyway. "Fuck."

"Geralt what-" the bottle is thrust back at him abruptly and Geralt turns away.

"Dump it when we leave tomorrow. Don't get any more of it on yourself. I'm leaving, I’ll be back-"

"Geralt!" Geralt turns back and Jaskier just looks at him. "What the fuck is going on."

Geralt shuts his eyes and exhales deeply, running a hand over his face. "It's a pheromone enhancer. More commonly known as a love potion. But it doesn't make anyone fall in love with you, it just makes them..."

"Horny?" Jaskier guesses as everything starts to settle into place.

"Exactly. And it's only going to make our problems worse, so you need to get rid of it." He tries to turn away again, but Jaskier doesn't let him.

"So you're... turned on by the way I smell?"

"Hmm."

"Oh, that's..." ridiculous. intriguing. stupidly hot. "Geralt?" Jaskier takes a couple of steps forward, slipping up behind him and when Geralt doesn't move, Jaskier presses his palms to his back. "Geralt," he whispers, "it's no secret that I would happily fall into bed with you any given night - or day, for that matter - and if I smell that good… if you want-"

"Jaskier. You don't know what you're offering.

"Mm, on the contrary, my dear, I know exactly what I'm offering."

"Your scent is... intoxicating. It gets inside my head and slowly chips away at my control."

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around Geralt's waist. Despite his protests, Geralt makes no attempt to pull away and it makes Jaskier bolder.

"So you like it rough," he hums, "I'm not a porcelain doll, darling, I won't break."

"I know," Geralt says quickly and his shoulders slump under Jaskier's touch. "It's just... when I thought about... us, I imagined it differently." The words sound like they're pulled from him with great difficulty, but Jaskier doesn't let himself think too long about it because he doesn't want Geralt getting the wrong impression.

"You've thought about it?" he asks, breathless.

"On occasion."

"And you never told me? Never asked me to share your bed?"

"It's not about the sex, Jaskier."

And oh, he isn't quite sure what to do with that. He doesn't want to stay quiet for too long because for Geralt, that's a lot to put out there, but he doesn't want to say the wrong thing. But this is unprecedented for Geralt and this is not the time nor the place Jaskier ever considered talking about his feelings.

"Geralt are you saying you... do you have feelings for me?" Even as he's saying the words, a shiver of fear runs up his spine. That this is too much. Too soon. That Geralt isn't ready for this. That it will ruin any chance of talking about it properly in the future.

"Hmm." Geralt doesn't pull away, but he doesn't elaborate and Jaskier feels like his whole body will collapse beneath him when he catches a whispered, "yes." He drops his forehead between Geralt's shoulder blades with a relieved laugh and squeezes him tighter.

"Oh my darling, I wish I'd known that earlier."

"What," Geralt snaps but the heat doesn't quite come through, "so you wouldn't fuck the blacksmith." More metaphorical pieces fall into place and Jaskier hums and nuzzles against the back of Geralt's neck.

"I didn't fuck him, Geralt. You did a rather good job of ensuring that when you burst into the room. I wish I'd known earlier so I could have just taken you up to my room instead." He nips at Geralt's ear where it peeks through his hair and runs his hands down Geralt's sides, over his hips. He's careful not to push too far, not to touch his cock (though the temptation is maddening) and Geralt grunts at him. "Geralt?" he asks quietly, "you know I love you, too."

"Yes," Geralt grits and that only raises so many more questions, but this is not the time for them, "which is why it's so frustrating when you run around all over town."

Jaskier maneuvers Geralt to face him and smiles up at him, resting an arm on his shoulder.

"Hush, love. There won't be anyone else." He smiles at him, meeting Geralt's eyes as he slips a hand down his chest. Geralt shudders as Jaskier reaches the hem of his trousers and as he slips lower, his eyes flutter shut. Jaskier's fingers slip around the jut of his cock through the leather and hums. "I believe we were discussing you fucking me."

Geralt's eyes open and he frowns at him, pulling back. "Jaskier-" Jaskier knows the argument before Geralt has a chance to speak.

"Geralt, my darling. My love. Light of my life. I love that you want to make love to me the first time, but we have all the time in the world for that and you need this." He presses closer, winding both arms around Geralt's neck to prevent him from pulling away again. "So right now, if this scent makes you lose control, I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk tomorrow."

Immediately, Geralt's arms are around his waist, hauling him close and Geralt kisses him hard, but briefly. His mouth drifts constantly, returning to his neck to nip at the skin and press his nose under his jaw. Jaskier lets himself be manhandled, lets Geralt do what he wants with him. He gets Jaskier out of his clothes quickly, but he returns again and again to his throat, nipping and sucking at the skin which is sexier than it has any right to be.

Geralt rocks against him, holding Jaskier steady to increase the friction. He drops his head to Jaskier's shoulder, nose pressed into his neck and Jaskier takes the opportunity to get his hands between them. He fumbles with Geralt's trousers as teeth graze against his skin again, but he gets them undone and shoves them down just far enough to free Geralt's cock.

Jaskier takes him in hand stroking him even as Geralt's hips continue shifting, fucking into the tunnel of Jaskier's hand. And by the gods, Jaskier could never have imagined Geralt like this, needy and wanting and taking from him.

He imagines Geralt fucking him like this, wonders if he'll continue taking what he needs, if he'll fuck him hard, if he would- he’s struck by a thought, encouraged by the thick cock in his hand, and he leans up, kissing Geralt quick and hard before dropping to his knees. There's a groan from above him and Geralt's hands are in his head immediately, tangling in his hair, but he shows no reluctance.

Jaskier mouths up the length of his cock, keeping his hand wrapped around the base of him, and even the faintest brush of his lips causes Geralt's hands to tighten in his hair. It's intoxicating, to feel like he has this kind of power over him, and his cock aches in its confines. He wants Geralt to touch him, wants to come, but more than that, he wants Geralt to fuck his mouth and take what he needs from him. He flicks his eyes up, taking in the pleasure on Geralt's face, the way his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth and Jaskier leans forward, pressing a kiss to his hip.

He kisses down the length of Geralt's cock before taking the head into his mouth and Geralt's hips jerk forward hard, pushing between his lips. Jaskier moans encouragingly. If he only gets one chance to see Geralt like this, he's not going to take it for granted.

Jaskier takes him down deep, letting Geralt thrust deeply, bumping the back of his throat as he leans over him. His own cock throbs, ignored in favour of Geralt's pleasure for the time being and Jaskier's legs part automatically. He can't hold back any longer, reaching down to palm at himself through his trousers. He tries to focus on the weight of Geralt's cock on his tongue, the taste of him, but having given in, his body burns for more.

He whimpers as he squeezes around his cock, thrusting abortively up into the touch and then, abruptly, Geralt withdraws and Jaskier finds himself lifted off the ground. It's a blur as Geralt lays him down and there's a rush to get them both out of their clothes and Jaskier aches until Geralt is naked and pressed against him once more.

They move together and it's quick and sloppy, both too desperate for the touch for anything more. Then Geralt reaches for his pack and Jaskier holds his breath in anticipation. He produces a vial of oil and he doesn't waste any time, slicking his fingers quickly and reaching down between Jaskier's legs. Geralt kisses him as he works the first finger into him, breathless but unbearably soft and Jaskier pulls his hand from his cock to wrap his arms around Geralt's neck.

Jaskier whines as Geralt starts moving, thrusting into him steadily. It's hot and impatient and Jaskier moans his praise into Geralt's mouth as he rocks up to meet him. At this rate, he doesn't think he'll last until Geralt fucks him properly. Then Geralt adds a second finger with little hesitation and Jaskier arches off the ground before his entire body goes limp.

"Please," he whispers, "fuck, Geralt, please, I need you-" he's rambling, only half-aware of what he's saying and less aware of Geralt's response. But he focuses on Geralt's voice deep and rough, but soothing as he gets a third finger into him and fucks into him hard.

When he finally withdraws and the blunt head of his cock pushes into him, Jaskier is breathless and struck mute. Geralt is bigger than he imagined, bigger than he looks and while he understands the need for patience, he wants to roll them over and sit back on him. He wraps a hand around the back of Geralt's thigh, gripping tightly to steady himself as Geralt inches forward, slowly splitting him open.

When Geralt finally settles, he presses his head against the ground above Jaskier's shoulder, turning to nuzzle into his neck. He's breathing hard, his breath damp against Jaskier's skin and Jaskier reaches up, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay?" Geralt breathes and Jaskier nods, overwhelmed and at a loss for words. Geralt's lips press against his neck as he rolls his hip and Jaskier tips his head back to give him better access.

Geralt doesn't take it easy on him, but Jaskier couldn't ask for anything else. He can't even think straight, can't focus on anything but Geralt's cock and his hands and his mouth and the constant bolts of pleasure that zip up his spine. He won't last long like this, but he'd rather come too soon than have Geralt hold back even a fraction.

He wraps himself around him, ruts up against Geralt's stomach with every thrust. Geralt's knees press in on either side of his hips and he gets an arm under Jaskier's back, hauling him up into his lap.

Like this, Jaskier can't help but kiss him, but as Geralt fucks into him, he's constantly shifted. He groans in frustration, dropping his forehead against Geralt's shoulder and he gets a little laugh in response before Geralt turns to bury his nose in his hair.

"Jask," he mumbles, "fuck." One of his hands comes up, threading into Jaskier's hair and it's as much warning as he gets before Geralt's arm cinches around his waist.

Geralt holds him aloft, shifting beneath him and he's relentless. He fucks him quick and hard and Jaskier can only hold on and try not to let his control slip too quickly. But his cock slips against Geralt's stomach, sweat and precome slicking the way, and Geralt slams into him with startling precision every time.

Jaskier groans into his shoulder and pushes his hips forward, grinding against Geralt's stomach and he's so close. He squeaks out something resembling Geralt's name in warning and then he's coming, spilling slick and wet between them.

His head spins as Geralt only increases his efforts and then the grip around him loosens and Jaskier slumps against him, exhausted and filthy, but satisfied. He keeps his arms around Geralt's neck, kissing his shoulder even as Geralt lays back against the ground. Jaskier settles against him, uncaring that they're lying directly in the grass. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat, steadily slowing again, and realizes that the shopkeeper was right about the perfume. Pheromone enhancer. Whatever.

He smiles to himself and buries his face in Geralt's neck. "Love you," he mumbles and there's a soft hum from beneath him as Geralt shifts to kiss his cheek. He holds Jaskier against him as he reaches out for his pack to grab his blanket. Without dislodging Jaskier, he drapes it over both of them, tugging it up over Jaskier's shoulders.

As much as he loves laying on Geralt, he can't imagine it's very comfortable for Geralt, so he slips off of him and curls up against his side, resting his head on Geralt's shoulder. One warm arm comes up over his shoulders and Jaskier cuddles into him.

"I take it this means we won't be disposing of my perfume?"

Geralt huffs a quiet laugh. "No, but I think I'll be holding onto it." He turns to catch Jaskier's lips in a brief kiss before returning to his back. "Who knows what you'll do with it if I let you keep it."

"I am offended," Jaskier scoffs, but even as Geralt rolls over again, pressing him down into the grass and kissing him silent, he's already thinking up the perfect time to use it again.

[hungry-tum-stuff]

Dueling Peaks Region - Kakariko Village

BOTW Regional Food Series: Part 2

Description: Link shows up to Kakariko village with an empty tummy, but Impa, Paya, and the rest of the residents are more than happy to point him in the direction of some food.

Contents: Hunger, Stuffing

\\TW: Descriptions of Hunger, Amnesia

Link had made it to Kakariko village. This was the first place the Old Man had told him to go after leaving the Great Plateau, and for good reason. Impa was here to fill him in not just on the events of 100 years ago, but also tell him the story of what had happened 10,000 years ago. 100 or 10,000, the amount of time didn’t make much of a difference to Link. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, especially considering he couldn’t remember any of it.

It felt like this was his first time hearing about the divine beasts, but he knew he should remember more about them. Impa spoke like he remembered them, so he should probably try to regain those memories.

“You really ought to go see Vah Ruta first, the Zora are in quite a dire situation… Their home is close to here, in the Lanayru region, and…” She paused, narrowing her eyes. “Link, are you listening to me?”

Link startled and nodded. Apparently he’d zoned out a bit. ‘Trying to remember Mipha… You told me she piloted Vah Ruta’ He signed, and Impa nodded and sighed.

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m sending you to Purah. She’ll be more than happy to fill you in on the divine beasts, as well as the shrine of resurrection. She’ll also be able to tell you whether or not you can recover your memories” She insisted. Link just nodded slowly, then raised his hands to sign a question.

‘Who’s Purah?’

“Oh, now I know you haven’t been listening to me. Do I need to have Purah check your attention span, too? I already told you she’s-“ Impa was cut off by a loud rumble from Link’s tummy, and Link’s face flushed as he quickly slapped his hands against his stomach. Impa just shook her head. “You really haven’t changed a bit, no wonder you’re so distracted. When’s the last time you ate?” Link thought hard for a moment, then slowly held up two fingers.

“Two days? Boy, why didn’t you tell me that when you first got here?” Impa scolded, and Link just looked down guiltily before signing his response.

‘Needed to see you.’

“Well if you’re that hungry, I coulda waited. I know you’re set on getting your memories back, but you won’t be able to remember a darn thing if you starve to death. And you certainly won’t be saving our princess when you’re so scrawny” She shook her head. “Paya dear, would you mind taking Link to get some food? I’m sorry you have to babysit our hero, seeing as he can’t take care of himself”

Link’s face flushed again, and Paya, who had been standing quietly next to her grandmother, stood suddenly at attention again. “O-Oh, of course! I, well, I’ll just show you to the store! Then maybe we can, cook something?” Paya suggested hesitantly. Link stood up and nodded in agreement to her plan, and Paya just sighed with relief as she nodded back and quickly began leading Link out of Impa’s house.

As soon as they stepped outside, Link’s stomach growled again, and Paya couldn’t help but giggle.

“I guess you’re not just a stoic hero after all… After all the stories my grandma told about you, and when she constantly reminded us that you were going to return to save Hyrule and the princess one day, she kinda made you seem larger than life…” Paya blushed a little. “B-But uh, I guess you’re just like everyone else! And that means you get hungry, so let’s get you something to eat” She rambled, almost dragging him down the steps and into the village.

Link followed along, looking around interestedly at every building, but as they approached the door to the shop, Link stopped short, stopping Paya in her tracks as well. A little girl was cooking right outside of the shop, and the smell had just hit him, making his mouth pool with saliva and sending a pang of hunger tearing through his stomach. Paya looked between Link and the girl for a moment before realizing what had caught Link’s attention, and she smiled a bit, waving at the girl.

“Hello Koko! What’re you making?” The girl looked up from stirring her food in the pot, and she smiled excitedly, motioning for Paya and Link to come over.

“I’m making Meat-Stuffed Pumpkins! I think I got the recipe just right this time, so I made a lot! Do you wanna try some?” She offered excitedly. Paya nodded. “Of course I would, but only if my new friend can have some too” She motioned to Link, who was still staring at the cooking pot with both hands clutching his grumbling tummy. Koko looked at him closely for a moment, as if sizing him up, before nodding. “Okay, he can have some. Who are you anyways, mister?”

Link, a bit startled by the sudden question, quickly spelled out his name: ‘L-I-N-K.’

Koko just tilted her head.

“What’re you doing with your hands?” Paya quickly realized the language barrier and nodded assuringly towards Link.

“He’s speaking Hylian Sign, Koko. He introduced himself, his name is Link” Koko still looked a little confused.

“But why can’t he just talk?” She asked as she taste-tested the pumpkins. Paya looked a bit lost on an explanation, as did Link, but thankfully neither of them had to explain. A man had come out of the shop to scoop Koko up in his arms, making her giggle and cling to him in a tight hug.

“Best not to bother strangers about their business, right Koko?” He asked, clearly having overheard the end of their conversation. Koko nodded, and the man set her down again. “So, how’s dinner looking?”

“It’s all done! Paya and her friend are gonna have some too” She insisted.

“Is that why you cooked five pumpkins?” He asked. Koko shook her head.

“No, I just had a lotta pumpkins” The man chuckled and shook his head.

“Koko, even I can hardly finish one. We’re going to have a lot of leftovers, you know that right?”

They did not, in fact, have leftovers.

There were five pumpkins and five people, including Koko’s little sister Cottla and their father, Dorian. The two girls split one, Paya and Dorian were able to finish most of theirs, but Link was able to finish his whole pumpkin.

And he still had room for more.

Paya and Dorian didn’t hesitate to hand their leftovers over to the hungry hero, and when he finished those, Dorian offered Link the one leftover pumpkin.

How was he supposed to refuse?

“You sure know how to eat, kid” Dorian chuckled, watching Link scarf down his third serving of stuffed pumpkin. “Paya, where’d you say you found this guy?”

“Well, he found us, Mr. Dorian. He’s the hero from Impa’s stories, the one who fell protecting the princess 100 years ago” Dorian looked between Paya and Link before shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well I’ll be, I’m havin’ dinner with a living legend”

“Well, he acts less like a legend than I would have expected…” Paya giggled as Link finished his last serving. As soon as he did, he immediately realized how much he’d overdone it. He looked down, and his stomach was round and heavy, to the point of pressing against his shirt. He pressed a hand against it as it gurgled, his stomach was certainly not going to be quiet as it tried to digest two whole pumpkins after two days without a solid meal. Without thinking, Link sat back and let out a soft groan, beginning to rub his distended belly. However, those surrounding him all turned to look, as that was the most vocal he’d been all throughout dinner.

“Are you alright Link?” Paya asked worriedly. Link flushed slightly but nodded, patting his tummy contently before signing a profuse ‘Thank you, very good’ to Koko and her family. Paya smiled.

“He says thank you Koko, your cooking was really good” Koko just beamed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“Of course, mister! You can come back and have dinner with us anytime you want” She insisted. Link was a little shocked at the offer, but he nodded, and signed another ‘thank you.’

He’d definitely be coming back to Kakariko for the food.

[random-imagines-blog]

Empty Walls {Sirius Back x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2380 Summary: A lot of the order is pretty untrusting of any Slytherins joining their midst - but there is one person who accepts you. Warnings: Mentions of character death.

Molly Weasley shoved a plate of food in front of you, so harshly that little puddles of gravy spilt onto the table, making a small mess. You thanked her regardless of her hostility, and cleaned up the gravy with your own napkin, embroidered with your initials. She was a wonderfully sweet woman most of the time - but you just so happened to be a Malfoy. Despite your loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix, many of its members still didn’t trust you yet, because of your surname. It was more about that than the fact that you had been in Slytherin, while everyone else around here seemed either to be a Gryffindor or even a Hufflepuff. You tied your blonde hair out of your face and started to eat self-consciously, knowing that there were eyes on you no matter what. Sirius Black’s to be specific. He always seemed to be watching.

The room filled with the sound of eating as everyone dug into Molly’s delicious food. You were the first done, vacating your seat quickly and washed the dish - by hand - in the sink. You had grown up completely spoiled, with the house elves doing all of the cooking and cleaning, so earning your place here had been difficult at first. You didn’t mean to be spoiled. You just couldn’t help how you were raised.

Grimmauld Place. It was dark and it was dingy, but there was one place in this house in particular that you were drawn to. The wall with the family portraits - your own included. All of the little faces of your family, and then the burned out one of Mr. Sirius Black. Your eyes went to your brother and you smirked to yourself. He was painted in that little hat. He always hated that picture, which made you love it even more. You then saw your parents, Lucius and Narcissa. They both looked a little snooty, which was how they tended to appear to the world. But they were never like that when it was just the family together. Your fingers graced your mother’s face. You missed her, a lot. She still sent you owls, and your father would always add his own little notes. They loved you, despite the fact that most of their friends saw you as a traitor. That your actions nearly put a bounty on their own heads, like the rest of the order.

But you were going to help take him down before he could try to collect.

“Do you really like staring at your own face that much?” A deep voice came from behind you. You didn’t turn around. It was Mr. Black himself. He always seemed to be following you around. He was probably the most mistrustful of the lot. You just ignored him, and put your fingers over your father. You missed him as well. His opinion was the one that you had been most scared of - but you were doing what he was too cowardly to do. You were making the right choice.

You didn’t even pay attention to your little portrait. You knew what you looked like. You didn’t give into the vanity that the rest of the Malfoys seemed to have. You preferred knowledge over looks.

“It’s not that bad of a picture. Mine was awful. They made me cut my hair for it, so I looked like some dapper gentleman,” Sirius said. He had come and stood right behind you. You didn’t realize how close he was until then. If you took even one step backwards, you would have bumped into him.

“So it’s a good thing that your place is burnt out then?” You asked.

“I like to think of it more as an empty space,” Sirius said. “I’ll probably paint over the whole damn thing one of these days. Most of these people, I don’t feel like I’m that related to anyway. Like you.”

“We’re  hardly related. It’s like ... many branches away,” You said with a shrug. He may be some sort of cousin but it never felt that way to you either. When you looked at him, you saw ... well, a handsome man, even with all of that hair and those tattoos. You had seen photos of him when he was younger and you had some pretty obscene thoughts one should not be having over family members. He’d been, to put it roughly, a hunk. “Why haven’t you painted over it by now?”

“The room needed some sort of decor,” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d do with an empty wall.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m sure you’d hang a very flattering portrait of yourself,” You mused, clicking your tongue. “Dorian Gray style.”

“What?” Sirius asked. You laughed then, remembering that someone like him probably hasn’t picked up a book since his time at Hogwarts, let alone one written by a muggle.

“Nothing,” You said, shaking your head. “So what can I help you with? Does Molly need help with something?”

“Why would Molly need help with anything?” Sirius asked, taking a seat in one of his favorite chairs in the bedroom.

“I don’t know - you all seem to think that housework is female only work-” You started but Sirius cut you off.

“Not at all,” He said, shaking his head, those unruly waves flying around him. “I actually wanted to talk to you myself. And it’s really not about housework.”

“Well, talk away,” You said, settling into a chair of your own, facing away from those painted walls.

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while now. I knew your father back in school and-”

“Yes, I’ve heard some of the stories,” You interrupted, crossing your legs. “There’s no need to go into a lot of backstory. I know you don’t trust me and that’s what you want to talk about, isn’t it?”

“Do you always go around making up all of these assumptions?” Sirius asked, curiously. “I don’t distrust you, I actually wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing an amazing job. Especially for someone so young.”

Your mouth went dry at the unexpected praise that he was bestowing on you. “Well, thanks. That actually means a lot to me. It’s been hard, since I had to give up everything but saving the world seems pretty worth it. Wanna tell Molly what you think, because that woman has had it out for me since day one.”

“She’ll come around. She’s just mistrustful of Slytherins, that’s all.”

You were quiet for a couple of minutes there, thinking about all of the times that you had tried to proven yourself to the Order. You had gone out on dangerous missions without hesitation. You had fought people who had once been dear family friends. You were trying to protect the world, which seemed bigger than just one family.

“Guess I just have to give it time - and hope that we have enough of it,” You sighed, realizing there wasn’t much in this situation that you could do. “You’re not so bad yourself, Black. Even if you come from a family of, well, us. Snakes and all.”

“Thanks,” He chuckled. “I’ll take that to heart.”

-

Since you had already graduated from Hogwarts, you spent a lot of time among the rest of the adults. Molly was finally warming up to you just a little, if only because she had no children to keep her busy now that they were all back at school. You were one of the youngest in the Order, having just left school the year before, and so she doted on you. Or, at the very least, she didn’t make a mess of your food anymore.

“Fancy taking me for a walk?” Sirius asked you one day, leash in hand. You laughed, knowing exactly what he had meant. It was the only way that he could leave this house. Being disguised as Snuffles, the big black dog. And the only way not to get Animal Control called on him was to have someone walk him around.

You nodded, also feeling the need to get out of the stifling nature of the house. Get away from the screams of the portrait and the gloominess that clung around every corer despite you and Molly’s attempt to cheer the place up a bit. Sirius turned into his dog form, and you put the leash and collar on him - which always felt weird, no matter how many times you did it. His tongue lolled out as he grew excited for the fresh air and it was enough to make you laugh.

These walks became more and more frequent - especially because sometimes, when you were in a more isolated part of town, Sirius would turn back into his human self and you would have a coffee and sit in a park, enjoying the early fall nature. You ended up having some really long conversations. About everything. You told him some stories about his godson, Harry, and his friends at school - they were rather infamous and it seemed like you knew a lot about them despite not being in their house. And your brother’s complaints, of course.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were falling for this much older man, despite the age gap and the fact that he had been in Azkaban for years, and that this was hardly the time for love, given the fact that there was a war that was growing in importance more and more each day.

-

“To the ones that we have lost,” Arthur Weasley said, raising his glass in toast over his head.

It was  not a happy occasion that you were celebrating here tonight, back at Grimmauld Place. “To the ones that we have lost,” you toasted back in return. And then you drank deeply from your flask - Firewhiskey having become a solace these days.

Sirius was taking things particularly hard - the war may be over, but the cost of that victory was entirely too high. He was tearing himself apart about it, but you couldn’t blame him. He lost his only other best friend. And the Weasleys had lost two sons - one to death, and one to the attack of a werewolf, though Bill was pulling through swimmingly.

You stood up slowly, which garnered the attention of the rest of the people around you. “I can’t be here,” You admitted, finding it too hard to be around loved ones, when they weren’t exactly the ones that you wanted.

You went down the hallway into the room with the family portrait on it, your wand in your hand as you closed the door, but you did not lock it. “What have you done to be remembered for?” You asked the portrait of yourself, and of your parents.

“I think this is a long time coming,” Sirius said, staggering into the room. “Patat Pingere.”

“What are you doing?” You asked, as the paint started to peel off of the walls, and then dissolve into nothing, leaving only the bare baseboards that they must have been before the family tree. You watched as you, your parents and the rest of them just seemed to disappear, like you never existed.

“You deserve to be remembered,” Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of all of that white. “So we’ll repaint you now, as you are. And... and Remus. And Tonks. And Fred... the others...”

You nodded, looking at the potential of it now. All of the noble house of Black had disappeared, and most of them were better off being remembered - entirely unlike everyone that you had just lost, and whose death was still pulling at your heart.

“And yours,” You said, looking over at Sirius. You were surprised to see that his head was down, and a sob racked through his entire body, and he was barely keeping himself upright.

You rushed to his side and took his weight upon your shoulder, half-dragging and half-carrying him to his favorite chair and helped to lower him into it. He didn’t let you go, so you had no choice but to sit with him. You curled up in his lap like a kitten, and he held you while sobbing into the shoulder of your robes.

You were through with crying - you’ve made yourself dehydrated with it and nothing ever seemed to get better, but seeing Sirius like this was still draining nonetheless. “You’re not completely alone Sirius - you have me.”

That seemed to help somewhat, for his shoulders stopped shaking as much, but he did continue to hold onto you tightly, making sure that you could not leave, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay and make sure that he knew - that he knew that you would not leave him.

“I love you.”

You weren’t expecting that from him, especially not at this time, but you began to run your fingers through the dirty, straggly hair.

“I love you too.”

“Don’t just say that if you don’t mean it. I can’t take anything more, I just-”

You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. Even when he was in the middle of a fight, with spells going around him, narrowly missing him, he usually had some excitement showing on his face. But this was a defeated man, who seemed ready to break at the slightest negativity.

“I mean it, with every bit of me. I really, truly do,” You told him, detangling a few knots with your fingers, your wand having dropped on the floor when it seemed like he was falling. “I love you, Sirius Black.”

“Can we fix this - these empty walls?” Sirius’s head rose just a little.

You nodded, looking into his dark eyes, which had the same expression as a dog that had just been kicked. “Yes, I think we can. I know we can. Let’s start tomorrow.”

[sister-dear]

Okay, so you mentioned that Wild was another favorite... Headcanons please? [Watch me just keep doing this until I see every single boy get headcanons XD]

Yeah so I'm just gonna keep doing these lol. Let's see if I can get through all the boys by the end of the weekend.

Wild Headcanons!

As before, here’s the giant mis-mash of canon/LU canon/fanon/headcanon that I use for writing Wild.

Genderfluid. Defaulted to ‘he’ after waking up because it’s what everyone around him assumed, got slapped in the face in Gerudo Town with how good it felt to be called ‘she.’ Zelda knows to use ‘she’ when Wild is dressed a certain way, but it’s Hyrule who brings up the idea of being gender neutral and Warriors who introduces them both to the term ‘genderfluid’ and to using ‘they’ as a pronoun. Basically, Wild is slowly collecting pronouns like candy and it’s very exciting. They can’t wait to share the new things they’ve discovered on the topic and how they think it applies to them with Zelda; she’ll be just as happy about it as they are. Still mostly defaults to ‘he’ out of a combination of habit and continuing to figure out good signals for when their pronouns change, but that is shifting as time goes on.

Functionally aro/ace, at least for now. He’s focusing on rediscovering who he is and establishing familial and platonic relationships. Will probably hit one hell of an experimental phase before too much longer.

Wild’s journey/story arc is largely one of experimentation and self discovery. Curiosity is the driving force behind most of the decisions he makes. (Along with just having fun. Wild loves to have fun.)

Adventure buddies with Hyrule. They pretty much bonded instantly over their shared love of exploration and nature.

Has lots of similarities with Wind even though they don’t see eye to eye on certain topics. (Kings of Hyrule, anyone?) When Wild is feeling their silliest or just needs to have some fun to let off steam, Wind is the one they turn to.

Slightly intimidated by Warriors and Sky. Warriors seems a model knight, something Wild feels he failed to be and maybe even slightly resents. Sky also talks about being in the Knight Academy, and of course there was the whole thing with the Master Sword. Wild very much does not want Sky to get mad at him again. Nobody likes it when Sky is mad at them.

Obviously has strong familial feelings towards Twilight, and by extension Time

Has sass, generally more positive than Legend but not afraid to throw hands

Occasionally has depressive episodes and the memory-flashbacks

Wild doesn’t actually cook all the groups’ meals. He’s not the only one who is competent around a cook pot, he’s just the most passionate about it. And also the one who keeps most of the group’s food, given the slate’s ability to keep food fresh.

Wild is in fact very frustrated and somewhat humiliated by the shitty quality of his weapons, now that he’s seen enough of the others to know that none of them have the same issues with stuff just breaking as he does. Knowledge of how to care for and maintain weapons was not one of the things that carried over from his previous life, plus he keeps doing things like hitting frigging rocks with his blades. The others are slowly teaching him better.

Adrenaline. Junkie.

Thinks of their past self as a stranger who happened to inhabit their body. Had anxiety-induced muteness pre-calamity, began talking again after they woke up. They did retain sign language. Will occasionally default to it if their throat is paining them.

Has a bit of a rasp due to vocal chord damage that the shrine didn’t quite fix all the way; his voice starts to get tired if he does a lot of talking. The scars sometimes cause him mobility issues. The masseuse in gerudo town gave him oil for them and taught him how to massage the tissue to help, but he tends to forget to do it.

Hair is constantly tangled. He takes a stab at brushing it most days but not nearly thoroughly or often enough to keep it from turning into a horrible rats nest.

Is it gonna be fun? Great it’s a good idea let’s go.

Considers basically everybody in his Hyrule to be his family. Has adopted family in pretty much every race, village, and stable. His Hyrule loves him and he loves them back. Kass and Teba are like dads. Riju is his BFF and fellow pun enthusiast. The villagers of Hateno are especially protective of both him and Zelda once she comes to live with him there. There’s Impa and Dorian in Kakariko. Sidon and Paya are both potential Significant Other material if he ever becomes interested in that stuff. He gets fussed over in all the stables, greeted with enthusiasm in Tarrey Town and with the Gorons… Most of the citizens of his Hyrule don’t have any association between him and what happened 100 years ago, they just know him as the person who made things better this time.

Falls into a sibling relationship with their Zelda post-adventure. Neither of them have any interest in restoring the system that failed both of them so badly, especially after all the time that has elapsed. Zelda is quite happy with the opportunity to just be herself, exploring and experimenting and re-establishing relationships of her own.

One of the more religious of the group. He prays and leaves offerings at every statue, in every temple. Wild’s Hyrule has very active spirits and a large variety of religions, both ancient and current. (Hylia, the little ancestor statues all over the place, the dragons, the Gerudo seven, Malanya…) Wild’s personal experience has been that paying basic respects leads to good things (finding Koroks, increases in health and stamina, someone watching out for his horses…)

Wild takes lots of pictures, not just of people but of places and plants and animals. He’s recording his travels to show Zelda when he gets home. He knows she would kill him if he didn’t.

The others: Four | Sky | Legend | Hyrule | Warriors

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

[dragonagecompanions]

hi there, so in love with your works. Seriously *bows head* thank you all so much. If its not too bad, I wanted to know how everyone in DAI from the advisors to the companions would react to a teen inquisitor who is brilliant at cooking? Yet the inquisitor has no idea about people from Leliana's agents to everyone else pinching her food.

Cassandra: She thinks she is being sneaky and subtle, insisting that because of their age and responsibility it is better for their young herald to stay close to camp and not take a watch when they leave Skyhold. There will be time for that when they are older, and bearless of a burden. If they will take on the difficulty of closing the rifts, then the most they should have to do is help around the camp, and after a long day nothing is appreciated more than hot food.

No one contradicts her, and the Seeker is left to silently congratulate herself on enjoying the absolutely divine way that their young leader has with rabbit and Hinterland herbs without making the Inquisitor feel worthless.

(And if everyone else lets her take a lead on that because she has mattered the speech, well...it’s really good stew.)

Varric: Damn, this is the stuff. Its like being back in the Hanged Man, except the bread is trying to actively strange him, and the pies aren’t staring back and.. 

It’s nothing like the Hanged Man, really, but the sheer comfort of phenomenal food at the end of the world? The same kind of warmth as sitting with your friends as the city goes to shit and laughing at a joke no one else gets. Their young protagonist has a good skill set on their hands, and If Varric’s writing table moves a little closer to the door into the kitchens, well.

Keeps the ink from freezing.

Solas: It had been a passing comment about the frilly cakes in Val Royeaux,  some exchange of banter with Varric about time passing and philosophy and the unending banal that one takes on to keep the miles from turning monotonous. He’d had no idea the Herald was listening, and so it makes it all the more touching when- after waqving to them as they take on the climb to the library- he comes down from his painter’s perch to find three petit fours waiting for him on his table. 

It drives home that they are a thoughtful young person, so different from the rest of this world, and if he uses the sweetness of the frosting and cake to drive away the twinge of guilt that his plans still move at speed....it does not take away from their talent, or their kindness. He will be content with that.

Blackwall: Food is food, particularly on the road. Hard tack and sausage has kept many a soldier alive, and he is the last person you’d hear complaining that he can’t put his pinky out eating meat from a spit. Luxury is for soft handed nobles, not men and women striving to make the world better. Let them have the best cuts-- Blackwall would starve before he robs true heroes of a hot meal.

And yet the first time he comes back from gathering firewood to find that the reason the inquisitor was tying so much string around the side of a wild hog was to make a porketta, and he got a good whiff of roasted pork slowly spinning in it’s own drippings....It would be a harder sacrifice. It made the Inquisitor so happy to watch their work be enjoyed and help people though, that it would the crueler not to take some. 

And if he dreams about the tender meat and crispy skin all perfectly seasoned and roasted for days afterwords, that’s no one’s business of his own. 

Vivienne: She cuts an imposing figure, and for the Madame de Fer is quite proud. It has cowed more than one recalcitrant novice into place with only a long legged stride alone, and for that she is a legend in her circle. Of course the stories do not tell how she would never be cruel or unfeeling to a child, and particularly not one far from home and frightened of every shadow like the ones that the Templars rip from families and depost in a new and strange place.

She expects a similar attitude from the young Herald, particularly after her (rahter stunning) entrance on their first meeting. And perhaps they were a bit overawed, but before it could become something she needs to address Lady Vivienne is pleasantly surprised to find their young leader coming to her for advice from a letter from some minor Orlesian lord. And while surely it will be up to Josephine to craft the response Vivienne is delighted that the Inquisitor wants her input.

That they went to the effort to bring beignet’s with them as a bribe...For that, she will give them every secret of the author’s well kept family scandals. 

Sera: Their Bitty Herald can make cookies better than Sera can make cookies, but they aren’t the kind that you throw at people as a prank or that come out all rock hard and brown and blegh. They are the soft gooey kind that make you want to steal the whole plate and eat them on your roof but also throw the plate at their Quizznitor because....because cookies!

She will trade pranks for cookies, who ever her Jenny in training wants to see doused in water or flour or...or...pudding! Pudding for cookies is the most fair.

Dorian: Southern food is bland and tasteless, and Skyhold’s resident ‘Vint will endure it for as long as he must to help defeat this ancient magister and get things on the right track. And the beer isn’t the worst, much to his own dismay as his delicate palette accepts the swill. But the food is all friend or brown or smothered in gravy, and he’d just as soon not.

So when they finally stop for the night under the endless web of branches that keep the sky from meeting the Fallow Mire, the pond water full of dead people sounds more appealing than one more night of Varric’s nug stew. Which makes the fact their valiant young Herald just ladled him a bowl of Minestrone so much more impressive. Their shrugged explanation of ‘I’ve always wanted to make it and the merchants had actual artichokes on the way here and you can tell me if I got it right’ does nothing to take away the warmth and delight the gesture brings to him. 

It would be like coming home, if anyone had ever made sucha rustic and delightful soup for him without strings and hooks attached in Tevinter, and for the first time on the whole mission Dorian isn’t chilled the rest of the night. 

The Iron Bull: He isn’t sure which one of the Chargers talks to the Herald (lies, it was  Krem), but one night half the fortress is piled into the Rest and the Inquisitor is waiting with four bowls of unreadable origin. The explanation that these are four kinds of curry and each is hotter than the last is the best gift he’s ever gotten, but the wager of a single coin (he won’t steal more than that from the kid) that the Iron Bull can’t finish them for the spice is even better. 

Three hours later finds him chewing on one of Stitche’s poultices for a burnt tongue (and throat and stomach and probably ass in a few hours) but one coin richer and hoarse voiced from the roaring laughter he’d gotten after a straight face convinced Krem to try the last bown and he’d literally wept.

Good times. 

Cole: The nug is made of bread, and it isn’t a nug but it looks like one. And it’s wearing a tiny hat! ‘Roll the dough out, has to be thin so it rises to keep the shape, he likes nugs so much and doesn’t ask for anything and Sera bet me I couldn’t.’ You made it for me. Thank you! He says hello back!

Josephine: When their ambassador hears that not only does the Herald have an aunt who married into a merchant house in Antiva but the inquisitor spent a summer there and learned to make authentic Paella, Lady Montiliyet’s mind is a whirlwind of plans and thoughts of just the appropriate bribe that would spare her from getting down on her knees and begging a fifteen year old to make her favorite dish. Eventually Leliana gets tired of little doodles of steaming bowls on all their meeting notes and sends a raven  three windows over, Josie, really with an ‘anonymous’ request to make it and leave it in the war room in exchange for a trade of equal value. 

And when Josephine finds out that all the Inquisitor wants is the creepy love letters from young  Orlesian nobles to go away, she takes great delight in her strongly worded letters to their mothers in between heaping mouthfuils of white wine rice and shrimp and the warm bite of saffron that will always be home.

Leliana: It is written on no report or schedule, and her agents will go to the grave without speaking of it to another soul, but the Inquisition’s spymaster has a man in the kitchens whose only role is to fetch firewood and water and try to one day recover his shattered after a terrible mission in her service. It’s easy work for a man who gave so much, and somewhere he is able to do good work until the tremors and the nightmares stop. The kitchen staff is kind to him and treat him well, but his true mission is known only to himself and his mistress.

The second the herald starts making  Cassoulet he is to fetch her immediately. She won’t be caught in a meeting and miss her favorite food again, damn it.

Cullen: It’s hard for the Inquisitor’s commander to be at ease with someone who is both a child and at least nominally his leader. They are someone he wants to protect, but also the key to stopping the world and someone who must be on the front lines. That is gift alone to the world, but when the rumors begin to swirl that they will also go out of their way to make things that people like it brings a small smile to his face. The world would be better if had more people like the herald in it. 

Especially if they could all make little crocks of shepards pie like the one that sits on his desk after a day of long meetings and a lyrium migraine. That might make everything right again.

-- Mod Fereldone

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

rules: create your own post and tag 9 people to get to know better or catch up with

thank you for tagging me in this, @vishcount, eventhough we catch up every day basically 💞 i am tagging @cortue, @sassyassassy and @the-cloud-whisperer! no pressure in answering these questions to such detail, just do however you feel like. (ED) i’m sorry i forgot to tag @intyalote because i wish to know you better too! 

my ramblings under the cut: 

last song listened to:  Change (Feat. GRAY) (Prod. 코드 쿤스트 CODE KUNST) by Kid Millie

code kunst is one of my absolute favourite musical artists and i always discover new projects he was part of. this one is my recent favourite, i’ve just been listening to it up and down the past few weeks so my youtube shuffle automatically plays this.

last movie watched: The Yin Yang Master (2021) 

just like vishie, this was the last movie i watched and i think overall it was very fun? i found it very cute and entertaining in its world-building, as well as the visual design. also chen kun as qingming truly.....hits differently, wow. so it was hard to keep my cool about him because somehow he is way too stunning in my eyes. i also enjoyed the found family trope? it was very sweet. but as vishie noted too, the movie did not leave much place for the characters to develop properly so it would have deserved more time in that department. i was not that attached to any of them because the movie focused more on the plot happening than the character driven story. also funny how the yin yang master: dream of eternity was a wonderful gay feast while this movie just pulled the no homo card lol

currently reading: When The Light Of The World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through, A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry (Ed. Joy Harjo, Leanne Howe, Jennifer Elise Foerster and more) 

i wished for this book for christmas and finally received it a few weeks ago. the past two years i’ve mostly been reading poetry (if you leave out readings for university) and i really want to educate myself on native cultures and their past. i think this is an amazing book that has a long introduction about its creation and the choices made on how the poems should be assembled. i love how so many different voices across geography, time and ages gets presented and i am excited to read more. apart from that, i am just waiting for uni taking up all my reading space again.

currently craving: a cold beer? 

since yesterday the weather has been so incredibly lovely and spring-like, i just want to go sit outside in the park or by the river and have a beer with someone. might do that tomorrow? i am feeling the holiday vibes. (also i am hungry so i should probably cook soon hmm)

current project: uni and fic ideas (and a fishtank?)

for uni i will need to hold a presentation about materiality in viennese modern designs during 1880-1930. i have this ceramic vessel by dagobert peche as my topic and i’m excited to dive into it because i am not well-versed in viennese art in general? and from what i’ve seen from his designs he took a lot of inspiration from japanese ceramics and chinese brush paintings which fits me past studies. also the question of materiality has never been the biggest focus in my studies so i am curious what will come of it, especially since our course leader wants to get us into the exhibition and hold the presentation in front of the actual object, which i have never done before (thanks covid).

i have some fic ideas which i want to get into but right now they are more vague concepts - i’ve been doing some research on korea during the 1880s-1890s for some very loosely dorian gray inspired au, but let’s see if this will take any reasonable shape. i’m also thinking about more wen ning & song lan content and maybe, possibly, some wen kexing character study? let’s see. am slowly getting back to writing and i am lowkey proud. 

and yes, i want to get a fishtank in our flat. i am so ready to have one again and my flatmates agreed so there is nothing standing in my way

current mood: tired but content

i overslept my first alarm today so i had a very stressful morning (it usually takes ages for me to get out of bed) and i did most of my first lecture but then decided to ditch it to hang out with my flatmates which was the best decision tbh. i also skipped the second lecture to hang out with them and go on a walk later to enjoy sunshine? so i think this day was very much successful on the social part. i even had ice cream. 

current wish: for my writing to return from war

i’ve lamented about this for the past few months on here, but it truly is weighing down my heart a lot. i just miss writing okay. i know i shouldn’t be hard on myself and accept that i need a break too, because indeed - i can’t force it and there is no need in beating myself up. but it still hurts because there is always something missing. i think the past two weeks i have been feeling a little bit more ready to return to it? though i truly need to be understanding with myself if it doesn’t work as i want it to. 

currently learning: materiality, persian book art and queer theory

as mentioned above, i have one course about materiality in arts, crafts and designs, focused on 1880-1930 vienna. i am also attending a lecture about persian book art from the 14th century onwards, though i have taken so many lectures with this professor already, i feel like he is repeating himself so much? i hope i will learn something new at least, so far it feels like i’m hearing the topics for the third time. and then i have a lecture about queer theory which is exactly my crowd - the people, the professor and the discussions give me so much and bring all these topics that i think about in my free time into a theoretical and scientific realm? so it’s nice to study these things in a systematic way - as systematic as it’s possible with a topic such as queer theory. this lecture just makes me feel seen and also allows me to get a broader sense of understanding how these studies developed.

something that makes you proud: my niemo oneshot  and my social activities

last week i wrote a short snippet for nie huaisang/mo xuanyu and it was the first time i had written in ages? so i feel very proud of it. and something i have been proud of lately is that i manage to be socially active a lot without feeling like all my energy has been sucked out of me? i am genuinly having fun being with people - of course it exhausts me a lot and i take breaks, but all in all it truly got easier socialising ever since i started taking my meds. my anxiety levels aren’t as high as they used to be and it helps me appreciate the presence of other people in a completely new way. this allows me not to feel like i am running away when i take time for myself. 

if you’ve read all of this, thank you! this was a fun little something 

[ahrorha]

Flame of Winter

This is the final chapter, and it feels unreal to have come so far. The story is far longer than I ever could imagine. And I want to thank everyone who joined me on this journey.

Your kind words were a joy to have received. Thank you so much for everything.

I love you guys <3

Chapter 35

.

.

Upstairs in the Hanged Man in Kirkwall, Varric sat in his armchair. His room in the most famous tavern of Kirkwall had become his second office since he became the Viscount. Here he could hide for a while from the complaining nobles and stuffy politicians he was surrounded by in Hightown. He could clear his head here and listen to the common people living in Kirkwall, who faced, in his opinion, the real problems in life. Not that he could escape his 'assistant' (pain in the but) Senechal Bran here. Bran had just delivered another stack of letters that required his 'immediate' attention. Varric sighed. He would become bald, grey and worn out like the previous Viscount if he wasn't careful.

“I see you are still insisting on staying in this lovely part of town.”

Startled, Varric looked up and saw Dorian walking into his room, looking critical at his choice of furniture.

“Sparkler! You've already arrived. Take a seat.”

“Yes. My voyage was very boring and uneventful. No burly Qunari pirates visited to make it less tedious.”

Varric stood up to send for refreshments, and soon afterwards, he took a deep drink from a mug of ale while

Dorian was sniffing his wine before taking a careful sip. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the excellent taste.

Varric laughed. “I got you something good. My knowledge of wine has improved after spending time with you and Broody.”

They both were silent for a while.

Swirling his mug of ale, Varric asked. “Have you gotten one too?”

“Yes. Though mine was a little different.” Dorian answered.

“How so? Didn't you get a letter? Mine just showed on my nightstand when I woke up.”

Dorian gave him a surprised look. “A little unnerving. Do you know who brought it?”

Varric shook his head. “No, and to be honest. After Hawke, the Inquisition and my trip through eluvian capital, there is little that still can surprise me.”

“Well, this might just do. I have talked to our little Snowflake.”

“What?!”

“I didn't get a letter. I got a sending crystal.”

“What is that?”

“A small magical marvel. It is a magical gemstone that can be used for communication. They come in pairs, and you can talk with the person that has the other one. With the crystal came a small note with a date and time.”

“She has the other one?”

“Yes, though she hasn't answered any of my calls to this date, but I talked to her just before I left Minrathous. She is doing well, though she feels guilty about how she left. We talked a long time about me and how I was after Iron Bull's betrayal. I have to confess I wasn't entirely sober after that.”

“So, it is true she is back with Chuckles?”

“Yes, they are back together, and she seems happy.”

Varric sighed. “Well, at least one good thing has come out of this mess.”

“She also told me that things are far more complicated than she ever thought, and she was unsure what the future would bring.”

“You don't say. I know a lot of people don't believe what Chuckles is claiming and are more worried about the Qunari. But after what I saw in the Crossroads and seeing so many elves disappear, I know something is going to happen.”

“True, though our dear Inquisitor hasn't told everything that happened.”

Varric looked curiously at him.

Dorian chuckled. “Do you know what the first thing she did was, when she saw Solas?”

“No.”

“She slapped him with all her might.”

Varric sputtered. “She did what?”

“I think it may be not as bad with her at his side.”

“Maybe? I got an extra note with my letter, from the Dread Wolf himself.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He confessed that he had spent the last two years looking over his shoulder, fearing for a shot from my Bianca. He also thanked me for looking out for her.”

They both huffed a laugh and nursed their drinks again.

“Do you blame her?” Varric asked.

“After everything that happened to her and with the Circle looming over her head? No. Though I fear what the future is going to bring.

“If I have learned one thing over the years is that nothing is simple.” Varric lifted his mug. “Let's drink. And I think we will come face to face with her or Solas sooner than we might expect.”

.

Skyhold was once again surrounded by a thick layer of snow. Cullen shivered as the cold wind tugged at his cloak. Winter had the Frostback Mountains full in its grasp. He looked up at the sky where slowly clouds were gathering. There would fall even more snow today. It would delay his departure even further back.

Feeling a little melancholy, he gazed over the walls. It had been almost eight months since the events at the Exalted Council, and soon he and the remaining troops would leave Skyhold for good. The fortress would become a mere outpost now the Inquisition had transferred into the personal honour guard of Divine Victoria.

Currently, the main body and command centre of the Inquisition was stationed in Val Royeaux. Most of the Inquisition's operations had already been transferred; what remained at Skyhold was the clean-up crew.

Cullen looked at how little was left of the once vast field of tents and huts in the valley. So much had already been deconstructed. A caravan of wagons was being loaded to bring the last of the supplies down the mountain. It was strange, they had arrived here with so little, and now they needed weeks to clear out the fortress.

It wasn't really necessary for him to be here, but it felt right to accompany the last of his men personally when they would leave. A final goodbye to another place he had called home.

Three years they had stayed at Skyhold, and somehow it felt like he hadn't achieved anything. True, many things happened here; they had defeated Corypheus and saved Thedas, but if what Ryan had told them about Solas was correct, then Corypheus had only been the beginning. He had a hard time grasping what Solas claimed to be. To

Cullen Fen'Harel was a character from elven folklore. In the past, he had never paid much attention to the Dalish tales about their gods. As an Andrastian, he had always believed that their talks about elven gods were no more than silly fairytales. Even now that he had spent time studying those stories, he wasn't any wiser as to how to prepare for an opponent that claims to have made the very Veil itself. But one thing was for sure, Solas had outsmarted them all, even Leliana.

It had been very sobering to see how many elves had disappeared after Ryan's confrontation with Solas. Over a period of weeks, servants, craftsmen, cooks and cleaners had left. They all disappeared overnight, not leaving any trace behind. And it wasn't only the Inquisition or Orlais that reported the disappearance of elves; it was the same in Fereldan, Nevarra and the Free Marches. Tevinter was keeping quiet, but they gathered enough information to know that they also struggled with people becoming missing. Whole families had left, leaving some alienages almost empty and the servant quarters abandoned. There were even reports of entire Dalish clans that hadn't been seen on their migration paths. It showed just how vastly Solas' network was and how his people had access to every organisation in Thedas.

Maybe the most dangerous thing was that no one could estimate how big Solas' forces really were. It showed just how no one took the elves seriously and how they could have operated without being noticed. Cullen had a hard time convincing others of the dangers those elves could represent. To most, the disappearance was a mere nuisance; they complained because their servants they relied on had left. And for once, they had a hard time finding a replacement.

What they didn't see was the threat those elves could represent. Cullen knew from his own experience how dangerous things could become once Solas would train these elves. The Inquisition itself had started this way; the first soldiers under his command were recruits from Haven, men and women who barely knew how to hold a sword. The same recruits turned out to be brave soldiers that won many battles and helped to defeat Corypheus.

Solas had achieved what hadn't happened in seven hundred years; he was uniting the elves of Thedas. Though Cullen couldn't guess what Solas' plan was. He had said to the Inquisitor that he would destroy the world, but Cullen doubted that Solas would destroy it in such a way that his allies wouldn't survive. But he wondered what Solas' plans meant for the humans. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be peaceful. With how things were now, no human nation would support any claim of the elves for land or power.

He shook his head. No, whatever was going to happen would end in more bloodshed.

His thoughts went to Eirlana. Was she back beside the man she loved? Or had Solas cast her aside just like after the defeat of Corypheus. He felt a pang in his heart thinking of her. He missed her more than he wanted to admit, and although she had rejected him, he hoped that wherever she was, she was happy.

.

Cullen entered his quarters, a familiar headache pulsing in his head. Without Eirlana's healing, his headaches had returned, as well as his cravings for lyrium. He sat down at his desk, feeling drained. With a sigh, he rubbed his tired eyes, knowing there wasn't any escape from his withdrawal. But there was no time to rest; even in an almost abandoned fortress, paperwork was waiting for him. Letting out another sigh, he grabbed a report to be read when his sight fell on a small raven scroll lying in front of him. With a frown, he took it, wondering where the scout had gone to who had delivered this. A message from a raven typically meant they needed a reply immediately. With ease, he broke the seal and unrolled it. A small pressed elfroot leaf fell out of it, and Cullen's heart skipped a beat when he recognised the familiar handwriting.

.

____________________

Cullen

I don't know if you want to hear from me, but I have a request.

Meet me alone at the grove tonight. I will be waiting for you.

Eirlana

.

____________________

.

Cullen sat there stunned, re-reading the short message. Why would she contact him? Grabbing a drink from his secret stash, he stared out of the window, not knowing what he should do.

.

The eluvian sprang to life in the small elven ruin. The eluvian was half-buried in the rubble, and Himel had to bow down to step through it. Immediately he checked the surroundings. Soon he was followed by other elven soldiers that spread out and did the same. The eluvian's surface rippled again a short while later, and Solas and Eirlana stepped through it.

Himel returned to them and kneeled down. “There are no signs of any activity in the vicinity, my Lord.”

Solas fussed at the fur collar of Eirlana's cloak, pulling it tighter around her neck. “Wait here for our return.”

“Yes, my Lord.” answered Himel. “Stay safe.” He then directed his men to their stations and guard this place.

“Are you ready?” Solas asked Eirlana, stroking her cheek with his gloved thumb.

Eirlana nodded. “Just a little nervous.”

“We will be alright.” Solas stepped out of the ruins in the open and transformed himself into a huge black wolf. Crouching down, he waited until Eirlana had climbed on his back. Once she had securely grabbed his fur, he rose and took off. The sun was setting, turning the snowy peaks into orange and pink hues wherever the twilight managed to peak through the heavy snow clouds. When they arrived at the mountain ridge surrounding Skyhold, night had fallen, and Solas slowed down. Casting a spell to hide himself and Eirlana, he carefully made his way over the mountaintop and down the valley. As of yet, he couldn't find anything unusual other than that the walls had far fewer guards and that the fires in the settlement surrounding the lake had dwindled in number. Skyhold was almost abandoned. Confident that there was no trap waiting for them, he fade-stepped the last distance into the grove.

Solas waited again, listening, smelling for any sign of trouble before lowering himself so Eirlana could slip off his back. He transformed back and walked with Eirlana to the oak growing at the far end of the grove. Silently Eirlana lay a couple of white flowers on the grave of their unborn daughter. She shivered when Solas took her in his arms, it still hurt that she had lost her, but the pain didn't sting as much as it used to. She could feel how Solas also mourned the loss. It was strange to be with him here together after the years she had mourned alone. But she was grateful they finally could share their loss without the burden of their secrets between them.

She leant against Solas, and he pressed a kiss on her head. “She will always be a part of us.” he said softly. “And who knows, maybe she has decided to come back.” His hand stroked her tummy tenderly. Under his fingers, he could feel the spark of a new life. “You have given life to something precious again.”

She shivered again under his loving stare, which turned concerned immediately.

“Are you alright? Do you feel cold? Do you need something?”

Grabbing his hand, she smiled. “No, I am fine. We both are. Though it's strange to be suddenly in the snow again.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Solas' ears twitched as he heard footsteps in the distance.

“Stay back.” he whispered and turned back into a wolf. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the glow of a lamp. Silently he moved forward, curious if Cullen had heeded Eirlana's request.”

.

Cullen stepped into the grove alone. It had just begun to snow, and he peered through snowflakes, wondering if Eirlana would really be here or if he was about to step into a trap. Maybe Leliana was trying to test his loyalty in a twisted way. She had become highly suspicious and vigilant after what happened at the Exalted Council. Seeing no one, he walked further when suddenly a giant black wolf appeared from the dark. It was double the size of a big war-horse, and its six yellow eyes were glaring at him.

Startled, Cullen dropped the lamp and reached for his sword, cursing he hadn't brought his shield.

“Cullen?” Eirlana's voice called for him.

He hesitated to draw his weapon further when he saw her approaching from behind the wolf.

“I come as your friend. Are you alone?” she asked.

“I am alone.” he answered, not taking his eyes of the wolf. It had to be Solas, he thought. Slowly he sheeted his sword and spread his hands. “I am not here to hurt you.”

Eirlana smiled, seeing Cullen's gesture. “Solas, please.” she turned to Solas.

Solas took another deep sniff before he was satisfied that Cullen was telling the truth; with a whoosh, he turned back. He gave him another silent stare before he spoke. “You have nothing to fear from me, Commander. I am merely here to escort her.” He kissed Eirlana on her forehead before he stepped back and leaned his back against a tree, not letting his guard down.

.

Cullen felt a chill running through him; Solas wore a full golden and black elven armor under a black-furred coat. He looked nothing like the humble apostate Cullen knew. Though he had the same face, his body language and expression had changed dramatically. It now screamed confidence and self-esteem, and even without having consumed lyrium for years, Cullen knew he had never faced a more powerful mage.

It was a stark contrast with how Eirlana looked as she approached him. Her armor consisted of a silverite breastplate and arm guards, both of elven design and richly engraved. Under them, she wore finely tailored blue robes that were silver embroidered. Her cloak was lined with white furs. She looked radiant, like a noble elf from one of the old elven legends he recently read. Her hair had been intricately braided and decorated with a silver circlet. He also noticed silver jewellery encasing her left ear. It curled along her whole ear and had a couple of silver chains dangling down. Both jewels were adorned with small blue gems that glittered in the light of the lamp.

Cullen was stunned, not knowing if what he saw was real. Before him stood the two most wanted elves in all of Thedas. And they had just shown up, taking the risk of him betraying her request. Although now Eirlana was coming closer, he also could feel her magic radiating from her. It was stronger than ever before.

“Cullen?”

He realised he had been staring at her. “I...”

Not only Solas demeanour had changed, but she had also changed. She seemed stronger and more at ease. There was an air of self-confidence around her she usually only displayed when she worked as a healer. Her eyes had lost the sadness that he had seen in the past two years. She looked more content, happy. It gave Cullen both a feeling of relief and sadness.

.

“I am sorry about the way we parted ways.” Eirlana smiled at him.

Cullen looked back at Solas for a second. He was still leaning against the tree, he looked relaxed, but Cullen could tell he was listening and watching for any sign of danger.

He focussed back on her; he needed to know. “I understand, but I have to ask. Did you know about Solas?”

“Did I know he is Fen'Harel?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I knew. Did I know about his plans or his involvement against the Qunari at the Exalted Council? No. Though I always intended to leave the Inquisition and look for Solas after the Council.”

It shocked him that she knew about Solas' identity, but it wasn't surprising she had planned to leave the Inquisition. He couldn't see her go into a Circle.

Eirlana huffed a laugh. “This is more difficult than I thought. I want to tell you so much, though I find it difficult to find the right words.”

Cullen rubbed his neck, feeling awkward. This is ridiculous; they used to talk all the time. Why did he freeze now? “How... how are you?” he asked; it was the first thing that popped into his mind.

She looked at her feet, gathering her thoughts. “Good.” she looked at him. “I want to say wonderful, but it is more complicated than that. There is much I need to consider.”

He shook his head lightly and smiled. Her answer reminded him of Solas and how he used to give answers that only resulted in more questions. “I see you have spent much time with Solas.”

A beautiful smile of love and affection spread on her lips, giving Cullen a slight sting of jealousy, but he was also relieved to see her so happy.

“I did.” she answered. “Though many matters demand our attention.” She stared at the mountains in the distance. “Everything is much more complicated than I ever could imagine. Good and evil, right and wrong, they are not so easy to define anymore.” Sighing, she looked back at Cullen. “But I didn't come here to discuss such matters. I came to help you. Your symptoms must have returned for a while now.”

He nodded slowly, perplexed that she put herself in danger for him. They must be aware that both the Inquisition and the Chantry were looking for them. Not that their searches had any results, but they both had to know the danger they put themselves in by coming here. And yet, here she was, taking the risk of being captured just to help him.

.

“Come. Let's sit down.”

She walked towards the frozen water of the grove's spring and sat down on its stone edge. Cullen glanced at Solas, who watched them without saying a word before he followed her. She had removed her gloves and

raised her hands towards his face, activating her magic. He closed his eyes as her familiar magic engulfed him. As always, a sense of relief and peacefulness washed over him, chasing away his headache and discomforts of his lyrium withdrawal. Then something changed; he could feel her magic going deeper. The residual lyrium within him reacted immediately; he could feel it hum and answering the call of her magic. It felt both peaceful and overwhelming at the same time.

Cullen wondered, what more had she learned over these past months?

He took a sharp breath when he could feel the lyrium leave his body, burning away like small timber. It gave him chills throughout his body. He inhaled deeply when the magic finally ebbed away, and he felt cleansed and whole again. A little disorientated, he opened his eyes. Solas had moved next to them and offered his hand to help Eirlana up. He hadn't even heard him approach.

Looking at him, she smiled. “Thank you for coming and honouring our friendship. I won't ask secrecy from you. You may tell everyone what has occurred here.”

She pulled out a satchel from a small bag she carried. “Here this is for the others. It is not as effective as my abilities, but it will help them. I am sorry, but I can't risk it to meet them.”

Still, a little dazed, Cullen took it. “I will see to it that they get it.”

“ I have included the recipe to make more. Adan or any other skilled alchemist should be able to make them.”

Solas suddenly whipped his head around and stared up the walls of Skyhold. They could faintly hear some guards talking. He turned back and pulled Eirlana's hood up. “I am sorry, my love. It is time to leave.”

She nodded and gave Cullen a smile. “Farewell.”

Then she turned around and walked back to one of the bigger oak trees.

Cullen watched her before focussing again on Solas.

Solas studied him before he spoke. “I have to thank you for protecting her when I couldn't. I will never forget what you have done for her. I hope that our paths won't cross when you are operating in the name of the Chantry or the Inquisition. Live well, while time remains.”

He inclined his head and then joined Eirlana. Cullen noticed when he turned he had the same elvish ear ornament that she wore. Only his was crafted from dark metal.

Solas transformed into a giant wolf again and crouched down so Eirlana could climb on his back. Watching them, Cullen stood up and immediately could feel a difference in his body. Gone was the stiffness and the pain he was used to. He huffed, not even remembering a time when he wasn't in discomfort. His head was clear, and the constant calling for lyrium had disappeared.

“Goodbye, Cullen.” Eirlana said to him.

“Goodbye.” he answered. “Eirlana. I... please stay safe.” he then raised his voice a little. “And you! Don't you dare to leave her again, or a swear by the Maker I will...”

The wolf turned his head and closed slowly his to many eyes, as if he was acknowledging him. Eirlana smiled at Cullen and ruffled Solas fur. Cullen watched as they both turned invisible and a trail of paw-prints and disturbed snow let into the darkness. By now, it was snowing heavily, and Cullen knew that their tracks would be gone by the morning. Wondering what the future would bring, he walked back to Skyhold. At that moment, he shared Solas' sentiment and hoped he would never be forced to face Eirlana as an enemy.

.

Solas ran over the mountain passes. His heart tugged as he felt Eirlana's sorrow as they left Skyhold behind. He could understand her pain. She had given up so much to be at his side and would face even more heartbreaking decisions in the future. It was a fate he couldn't spare her from.

Suddenly her hand stroked the fur by his ear. Now they were truly bonded; she could feel his sorrow as he could feel hers. There was a spike of gratitude towards each other as they knew they were not alone.

Travelling through the snow, they went to face an uncertain future. But they knew one thing for sure. Being bonded, they would face it together.

.

This is the end so far. I can't wait for DA 4 to blow our minds again with long lost secrets and hidden lore. And our next heartbreak that will come (thnx Bioware ;p)

We already know that the next wizard in our party will have some hidden agenda. And I hope we will finally be able to romance a dwarf.

Until we meet again, for I am not finished writing fanfiction in the epic world of Dragon Age

[julemmaes]

Angel Like You - October 4th

 Fenrys Moonbeam x Asterin Blackbeak

Prompt requested by itsjustme on Ao3: “Could you please do a Fenrys and Asterin one with lots of fluff? <3″

A/N: I LOOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH, IF YOU EVER WROTE SOMETHING ABOUT THESE TWO, DM ME THE LINKS TO YOUR FICS CAUSE I LOVE YOU ALREADY

Word count: 2,378

It had been Asterin's birthday for more than eighteen hours and she still hadn't been able to see her boyfriend and finally celebrate with him her drinking age - not that Asterin hadn't had a drink before today, of course, but she imagined it would be nice to do it without having to use her fake ID.

During her lunch break she had walked into the university cafeteria like every other day, staring at her phone waiting for Fenrys to call. She had reached the food counter and started ordering distractedly, with music playing loudly in her ears without losing sight of the screen. That's why she hadn't noticed the balloons falling from the ceiling as soon as she walked through the door. And that's why she hadn't seen her entire group of friends waiting for her at their usual table while they shouted their best wishes.

Manon had gotten irritated and had ripped the headphones out of her ears, making her jump out of fear. Her annoyance hadn't lasted long when Asterin turned around and finally saw what they had put on to make her day just a little more special.

All the Thirteen - their dance group - and Dorian were present, plus a few friends from her classes. None of the guys were there, all away in one of the nearby cities for one of the most important games of the season, and along with them their girlfriends. Aelin, Elide and Lysandra were also part of the cheerleading team and could not afford to miss an important event. Asterin had made a scene when she found out she had an exam on the same exact day. Fenrys had reassured her that there were no problems and that her education was more important than a stupid game of his.

Although she had had fun for that hour with her friends, she missed Fenrys more than usual. And the feeling had worsened when he had sent her a message that he could not call her and that they had lost the game, because Lorcan had been hurt and their team's defense had shrunk dramatically. She immediately replied that she was sorry and that she would have liked to do something to make him feel better. He had seen the text and still hadn't answered, probably busy getting his ass kicked by coach Gavriel.

Now, at seven o'clock in the evening, she was starving to death and desperately wanted to call Fenrys, hear his voice, feel that he had blanched the anger and disappointment that followed a defeat.

She climbed the steps of her small house and saw the kitchen light on and lingered in her footsteps.

It was not possible that someone had broken into her house.

Before she became even more alarmed than she should have been, she approached the window and peered into the house.

"Fen!" she screamed excitedly. She had already snapped towards the entrance and was struggling against the lock, but she could still hear the boy's frightened scream. She laughed.

When she opened the door, she immediately saw Fenrys on the kitchen door with one hand on his chest and his eyes wide open. Asterin didn't even take his backpack off his shoulders before he jumped on his boyfriend.

Fenrys grabbed her, clutching her and resting his head on her shoulder, kissing her neck, "Happy birthday, my love," he whispered to her. They parted enough so that she could look at his face and she laughed, cupping his cheeks. "I missed you so much," he continued, brushing his lips against hers. He took two steps back, leaning against the table for more support.

Asterin smiled and then pushed herself against him, deepening the kiss. Fenrys sighed through the nose, squeezing her hips. He put her down slowly, while they were still kissing and when he pulled the backpack off her shoulders, Asterin also took off her jacket, immediately clutching onto him again, not wanting to be too far away.

Reluctantly, Fenrys pulled away slightly, their noses were still touching each other, "I think I should go back to cooking".

Asterin complained, but let him go anyway, pouting amusedly. Fenrys chuckled and turned towards the stove, where four pots and pans smelled deliciously inviting.

"Where did you find all the food?" she asked, curious, looking at the ingredients scattered on the table. A bottle of tomato puree, some potato skins, half a zucchini and some carrots.

Fenrys looked over his shoulder, "I stopped by the supermarket before I came here," he explained, "I couldn't go home with Con, he took it way worse than I did and I needed to distract myself, not talk about all the mistakes I made on the field today." he looked away when Asterin's expression became serious. She had forgotten the game in the euphoria of the moment.

She approached him, circling his hips from behind and resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. She felt Fenrys hand resting on hers, "I'm so sorry." she kissed him on the neck, tiptoeing, "You shouldn't have done all that. I could have prepared something for us." she murmured against his sweatshirt. She only realized at that moment that he was wearing a chef's apron. She snickered.

"I told you, I wanted to get distracted and cooking relaxes me," he repeated.

Asterin nodded slightly, "I know, I know." she peered over his shoulder to see what he was making, "What is that?"

Fenrys smiled at her, turning the ladle in one of the open pans and taking some of what was supposed to be vegetables and handing it to her, "Chicken and vegetables," he confirmed. Asterin tasted it directly from his hand and closed her eyes while moaning as good as it was. If she had tried to make that dish it surely would have sucked, the chicken would have come out dry and the vegetables would have had no taste at all. Instead the food Fenrys prepared for her was always so tasty and juicy and Asterin always felt how much love the boy poured into it.

"God," she moaned again, "This world doesn't deserve an angel like you."

Fenrys was looking at her with his mouth slightly open and his eyes focused on her lips. He cleared his voice and went back to stirring something else. Asterin pointed at him, "What about that?"

"That's the dressing for our pasta. I bought spaghetti." he smiled at her and caressed her cheek, moving a lock of hair. Spaghetti was definitely her favorite kind of pasta.

"I love you so fucking much." she mumbled to him. Fenrys giggled, with his stupid little grin on his lips, "Me too."

Asterin started cleaning the table, throwing out the scraps and setting the table for the two of them. When Fenrys noticed he whined, "I had to clean it up." he had a guilty look on his face, almost as if he was sorry she was doing him a favor.

The girl watched him closely, "I'm just helping you, Fen."

"Yes, I know, but-" he stopped, cutting the sentence.

Asterin looked him in the eyes and when he looked away, flexing his jaw, she asked, "What is it?"

He remained silent for a while and Asterin gave him time to decide what to say. She knew that he didn't have to push him and he knew that Fenrys had trouble talking about the things that were bothering him, unlike her.

"It's just that I screwed up on the field today. A fuckup that could have been avoided if I had done my job and I need to make it up somehow and treat you like a queen for tonight wouldn't solve everything, but it could at least improve this fucking bad mood of mine." he put his hand in his hair, before he crossed his arms on his chest and turned towards her.

Asterin didn't look at him, continuing to cut the loaf of bread he had bought, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Fenrys grunted, "It's just that I'm sure if I told you what happened, you'd tell me some bullshit of yours to make me feel better and I know I just said the opposite, but I think I deserve to feel like shit."

This time she gave him a stern look, "Why don't you let me judge whether you deserve to feel like shit or not?"

He snorted, "Alright," he mumbled. He said nothing and continued to cook while frowning for a few minutes. Asterin sat down, nibbling on carrots and staring at the muscles in his back that tightened every time he moved. She scowled, "Does it have something to do with Lorcan?"

Fenrys stiffened, "Yes," he simply replied.

"You know, if you don't tell me what happened, I can't just guess?" she asked him jokingly.

He turned towards her, turning off the stove and putting the pan with the chicken in the middle of the table. Asterin was used to seeing him cooking, being that he was practically at her place every night, but it was always nice to see him being the man of the house and making these little gestures for her. Even when his day had been shitty.

He turned to the stove once again, took the pot of pasta and drained it, "I told you he was hurt, didn't I?" she nodded, assenting, "A guy from Velaris broke his anterior cruciate ligament. He jumped on his knee with both feet."

Asterin swallowed noisily, bringing one hand to her mouth. She hadn't realized it was so bad. With such damage he couldn't play for the rest of the season. All this if he did well and if the doctors were able to fix it.

"Fen-" he ignored her, pouring the seasoning on the pasta and starting to serve it.

"It was my fault." he didn't look her in the face, but she had never seen him so distressed in her life. "I saw the piece of shit go up against him and he was charging him like a..." he stopped, shaking his head, "You don't charge another player like that, he looked like a fucking bull trying to kill the matador, I don't know." he sat down after serving both of them. He covered his eyes with his hands, "I should have called him. Warning him that he was about to be tackled."

Asterin was quite upset, she wanted to call Elide, but would have thought about it later. Now she had to concentrate on Fenrys.

"Honey listen to me, these things always happen in football. It's not your fault," she said, extending one hand on the table and taking his hand.

He shook his head, tightening his shoulders, "No, it's different this time." he explained, looking at her finally, "After the game one of his teammates came, the captain, and apologized." he said shocked, "There is no apology in football, Rin. It's not something you do."

Asterin had seen enough games in her life to know that the players were ruthless beasts and that the feeling of belonging to your team was so strong that you felt the need to protect it with your life. Beating someone on the other team was not as strange as it could be considered in other less violent sports. Bullshit, in her opinion.

"They benched him and probably suspended him," continued Fenrys. Asterin understood that he was talking about the player of the other team. She nodded, gritting her teeth.

"You don't think Lorcan blames you, do you?" she asked cautiously, starting to eat when he gestured for her to taste the food. The first bite of pasta was ecstatic. If they weren't in the middle of such a serious conversation she would have praised him and kissed him until they ran out of oxygen.

Fenrys moved the pasta into the dish, "No. I have already spoken to him. Elide also came to me after we left him at the hospital to assure me that it wasn't my fault." Asterin promised herself to text her later.

"Listen," she began, Fenrys looked at her exasperatedly, "Listen to me," she said in a harder tone, "these things cannot be avoided. It wasn't your fault and Lorcan doesn't think it is. I'm sure you'll do everything you can to help him on this path and I'm sure he'll appreciate every little gesture you make, even if he won't show it." they both grinned, knowing full well that Lorcan would never show an ounce of feeling for anyone other than Elide.

When Fenrys did not answer immediately, continuing to eat in silence, Asterin squeezed his fingers still wrapped around hers, "I'm sorry, however, that this happened."

He looked at her, his expression pained, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. It's your birthday and now you're sad."

Asterin snorted, "Stupid, I don't care if it's my birthday. If you're feeling bad, I want to talk about it and make you feel better."

His eyes softened a little, then he whispered, "I love you, very much." Fenrys seemed to remember something important at that moment, "I've brought you presents," he announced as he stood up. Asterin stiffened, leaning forward to his now empty place, confused, "Gifts? S meaning, more than one?"

The boy returned with four packages in his hand, all poorly wrapped. He had a half smile on his face and Asterin would have been satisfied with that little bit of happiness for today.

She thanked him silently when he put them in her lap, leaving a soft kiss on her lips. She opened them one by one and when she took the biggest one, she realized it was fluffy. She opened it curious to find out which sweatshirt of his he had given her, but it was not a sweatshirt. It was a rectangular pillow with a picture of his ass printed on it. They laughed until they cried and then moved into the living room after finishing dinner.

They spent the rest of the evening talking and kissing and when it got late they went to bed, where Fenrys seemed to forget all about Lorcan and the lost game, while he showed her exactly just how much he loved her.

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