#I am being very demanding for someone who just claimed to love spring

[hellohoihey]

I forget mosquitoes exist

[holdyourwine]

Praise The Heavenly Goddess and Her Love.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ featuring Poseidon and Hades

YOUR FONDNESS, LORD POSEIDON ; masterlist

(.n) Divination is also the agent which brings about good relations between Gods, because it knows what aspects of love. With the words that helps the couple from Hades’ wise head, it is how their love started to appear.

“So, she just flew away to Demeter’s place as soon the news reached her ears?”

Silver strands of hair swayed following the direction of his head, glancing to the bored expression that etched upon his brother’s face. A small thud aired after Hades lets his frame fall atop of the cozy sofa, earning a frown from the sea God. Those ocean eyes of his move up from the pile of papers on his desk, gazing at his older brother’s strong presence. “Yes, so you may go.”

A deep chuckle grumbles under his breath, “Why so? I did come here to see my Little One, but I do have another Little One here, am I correct?”

His face scrunches in disgust as he notices what Hades referred to was he himself. Hours prior, the sea God was savoring the only time he secretly enjoys in his day ; being with that little Goddess who he demanded to stay in his manor longer than what the agreement with Morpheus and Hera said— with a reason that she still needs learning for she is still very mortal, though every souls who stands upon Olympus could say, how divine she already is and how wise she is as a half, within just 2 years.

Poseidon had to witness how the beam spreads in second within those cheeks of hers, gleaming orbs distracted from him upon the arrival of the Underworld couple in the Heaven, and the very courtesy she granted before those feet bring herself hastily to where the spring Goddess is ; she is very fond of these two, even in her early day of immortal, for her, Hades and Persephone are the closest deity she claims to have a human relationship with herself, since many Gods do not have much benevolence towards others— Poseidon, as in example.

“Out of curiosity, I may know her development, since Melinöe and Morpheus did talk about the work involved with her.” Says Hades, never grows tired of wasting his words for his dear brother.

“Ask her yourself. I did not remember anything.”

A squint in Hades’ eyes brings a slight discomfort to the sea God, as those piercing eyes of his glance to the opened luxurious box in an empty rack of his bookshelf, filled with hand-picked finest pearls of his ocean, messily rearranged in a gold thin chain as if someone tries to stringing it into a necklace. “Then, mind telling me about that feminine thing?”

Poseidon lets out a grunt, slamming a hand to the table as seconds prior he used it to let his face rest upon. It is clear that he does not want to answer, whilst he himself scolds his reckless act for not hiding the stuff, did not expect his brother to come in without any arrival announcement. “There is nothing.”

Hades nods to himself plenty of times, observing the room while his pointer finger taps upon the armrest. Though the words that left his brother’s lips are bold and stern, he himself can dive down to the look that Poseidon has each time Hades mentions the Goddess’ name. Not to bring only warmth to the sea God, the elder deity does have a peculiar sense of being affected by the way a love does change him.

For the ruler of the Underworld, the first 6 months after her ascension were not always filled with the tenderness of his fatherhood— instead what lies beneath is vigilance he showed in his mien before her. With his very brotherly instinct, and for eons he watches the God of the sea ; who has never lowered those eyes of his to any Goddesses, let alone a half-blooded one, it is plausible to aim that he is cautious with what awaits ahead. Does she serve to attract luster for herself? Does she desire the gold crown to be claimed as the one in his reign? What makes his little brother accept her?

O, darling Hades. With only 3 months of association, the very obviousness poured its wet realization to his own version of herself ; whilst his dearest wife— the spring Goddess, Persephone, does take the fascination upon her company around with twinkle within her eyes that speak, “Husband, if only I can wish to meet her before Lady Hera did and be the one who escorts her to this very stage.”

It is truly the power she has in her full consciousness ; what enchants any mortal to immortal lives to take a look with their adoration and astonishment. No one expected that her perfect facade managed to break down the most fearsome God alive— Poseidon himself.

“I found no mistake in being smitten, brother mine. Let alone denying what your heart already urges.”

He witnesses the growth of their chemistry, how the light shines brighter in her face when she encounters her loved one, how something equivalent with affection writes itself within his eyes each time he sees her, how the atmosphere goes dreamy and fluff with the two of them. There is no mistake, they are in love.

“What do you want, Hades?” The sea God seems to grow fatigued with his own brother’s fuss in his place ; while he puts down whatever engages him, he lets those cold blue eyes meet his other ones.

He shrugs his shoulders, “I see the stars shine within those cold blue of yours each time she is before.”

“What an ugly statement. Try again.” His sharp tongue throws a sarcasm which pulls a chuckle from Hades’ lips.

“My, for I certainly cannot say what greater blessing there can be for any man or God To have the right of heavenly Goddess and her love.” An amused glint is shown upon his eyes as Hades notices how his brother’s chiseled body grows tense with the mention of the sweet one who has dwelling inside his mind every day since the 2 years.

Those soft lips go in a thin-pursued line, eyelashes illuminating the softening look he tries to hide from Hades with his usual stern demeanor. “The love that belongs to the heavenly goddess is fair and fairer than any gold, hence those who are showered with the love revealed doing something graceful too.”

“I alone am already—“ “We all know it, Poseidon. You are becoming more humane around her, which is holding the grace in the art of living as a perfect God. Do take care of your own loneliness. Even the wisest king does have a caring hand of a woman who sincerely stays in a marriage.”

His jaw tightens as a form of response to his brother’s insolent sentences— but what holds him back? Is it because it came from the lips of the first one who gained his whole respect as his equal? Or is it also because what he said is true?

“What makes the heavenly love fair, since it compels the lover to take great care with regard to his own excellence and the beloved to do the same. All belong to that sweet goddess, when will you take it to be yours too?”

“You know nothing. I demand you to stop telling me what to do for I am the one who has the right to give myself an order.” Poseidon throws a menace in his gaze, yet the tone that wraps his voice is evident for anyone who hears it, that he just is protecting his pride.

“Said the little brother to his older brother who has been married for eons, having the greatest love with his only eternal flower that blooms in my dead atmosphere?” A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he gets up from the cozy sofa, walking closer to where his brother sits

Hades puts a gentle smile upon his face, though Poseidon can not witness it for he is dismissing his sight from him, which brings the God of the Underworld a giddy feeling of seeing the sea God being his little brother. “Do not ever waste the time, Poseidon. never thinks of you procrastinating on claiming her heart before her light leaves your world. let it surge like your sea to your veins.”

Before Poseidon can slam whatever force he has within his fist or summon his trident, the elder God gives a soft pat upon his fluffy blond head before disappearing to wherever the God of the sea does not know, not even like he wants to think about it too.

He lets his body fall to the backrest of his chair, eyelids flutter close to conceal the sapphire eyes. It is only a half of the day, yet his brother’s visit did waste his energy. But what a shame, Poseidon finds himself recalling what Hades had said to him, connecting the dots by the end he meets her name echoes within his head. Indeed, she is a goddess. Each sway of her legs, the universe yields to her. Her wise wings which cradle the world, not even he realizes that she cradles him too.

If only Hades did not mention how he might lose her at any time, Poseidon would not let his head full of many things related to her. He remembers how the sun always beams upon her cheeks ever since they first met and until this very day, and how it grows sweeter and delicate with her loving touch, that speaks to him, speaks of her love. How silly, he himself declared God needs no companions as for he might not understand what is so great from being in love, since the matrimonies around him are filled with treason that brings only pain.

Or maybe, if it is as strong as her pleasurable love and with the high tenet I have for living without betrayal, it will not be a really sorrowful union. What did I think?

What a tiring coversation— no, he really wants her. And it does help to encourage him.

***

“Oh? You are finished with her?”

Pulling out one of his hands from his pocket, Hades waves his hand playfully in the air as soon as the sight of a gleaming Goddess enters his range. The satin fabric of her simple dress flows as her legs bring her hastily to him, with a smile full of blithesome she puts in her face to greet the God.

“Yes! I remembered I have not said anything to Lord Poseidon but ran away hours ago, and I feel bad.” A soft chuckle leaves her lips as she tiptoes her feet many times to cease the flooding feeling inside ulon seeing whom she respects after Poseidon, for a month did not meet him due to the business.

He bends his body down, close enough to make her shoves her head back with a funny expression ; a mix of embarrassment and disgust. “So you neglected my wife, hmm? What a bad kid.”

She hurriedly puts her hands atop of his shoulders, forgetting the small gap between them as the panic rushes her countenance. “It is not like that! We sure did spend a good amount of time with tea and sweets, though Lady Persephone wanted me to stay a little longer, but I do think I have to give Lady Demeter her time with her daughter.”

A laugh breaks under his breath as he lets his hand fall upon her head, giving it a soft stroke while he straightens himself. “Sure, sure. Papa knows what my ladies think. So, I will take my part now?”

Hades offers his arm to the younger deity, insisting her to come with him for a talk— which she gladly accepts since she knows the sea God will be fine with or without her presence around, oh, he may not care at all about her though. As she wraps her arm around his, her small giggle splits the air. “Yes, the special time for a special God.”

A sweet and full of joy coo comes from Hades whilst he dramatically lets his other hand clenched around his left chest. The walk is not so long, though it looks like the God who escorts her, it is her who actually points the direction to her private chamber ; not the bedroom, but another room for her to paint, to sculpt statues, and play instruments. It is specially made for the Goddess, under the demand of the owner of this manor himself— Poseidon, as he wants her to feel comfortable in working here.

The smell of hyacinth, and the mildness of vanilla ; the usual scent that trails her body wherever those feets wander shrouds his lungs, with the hint of jasmine essential oil on the table for stuff, acrylic paint fumes and clay— not so strong and intoxicating. The room is in a medium size, with many finished to half finished paintings of the sea under any skies and colours, the soft touches from any subtle silk that hugs the Divine's body, and the majestic within the sea that he notices to be the one God deserves her art ; Poseidon. In the middle, a fancy sofa stands still with a small table that is decorated with a vase of white roses, which she kindly welcomes him to sit above.

“Little one, is there something you want to tell me?”

With an usual amused grin, Hades watches the younger deity pour an exquisite teapot to two teacups, revealing a brown clear liquid that has a mild smell of jasmine. A confused mien showed within her face as she let her body rest upon the soft cushion of the sofa in front of him. “As in what?”

Sipping the sweet tea for a moment, he lets the taste explode on his tongue with its warmth. “Hmm, about my brother? Do you need any help?”

As for her, any emotions can be shown clearly upon her face ; and this time, the shock and embarrassment show. Not very dumb, she knows what the God meant with his brother, and where this conversation leads. “No … ? Why is it about Lord Poseidon?”

A deep chuckles grumbles in his chest as he finds it is enticing to see how the little Goddess tries so hard to conceal whatever she has inside from him, when in fact it is obvious how the butterflies break free from her lower tummy whenever their skins colliding in a small form of physical touch, or when those blue eyes find themselves in her eyes.

“Shan’t you keep your feelings to yourself?”

Teeth against her lower lip, she calms her breath before those orbs glance back to his other ones with wavering sparkles. “He is not someone worthy for me, it is what it is.”

Oh, Hades tries back a snort upon the funny statement— or at least for his ears. If only she knows what he can see through his little brother. “No one deserves to say such a thing, sweet. I am baffled now, why do you two keep denying it?”

“Because he will not want me, and I do not want to get hurt!”

The demi-Goddess seems to not recognize the words you two as she unconsciously cries out with the frustration she tries to suppress all these years with her pure devotion solely for him. “It is love who is concerned with the good and finds fulfillment in it in the company of temperance and justice, whether in the earth or here amongst the gods.”

With the guilt starts eating her up ; for the insolent act, she finds no harm within Hades’ face instead a care that speaks so much. “And with the fulfillment and what I have for him, which I am confident enough to say to be the fairest sense of adoration, it is enough to not desire his heart to be mine.”

As I thought, what comes is the greater blessing from heavenly Goddess and her love. “For if, instead of gratifying your love with only existing in the same divinity equal with Goddesses, as he does claim to be, why not honor both you and his heart?”

The silence pours a cold water all over her sense, for how the astonishment shines within her visage— Hades finds it as a sweet scene inside his head ; how he feels a sense of proud over his apathetic brother, who now has the greatest love and lets any warmth she can give surge into his marble heart, not to mention her true nature where the red that was running through her veins prior. To how such a Divine can hold a majestic loyalty for years, never lets the fatigue eat her, and shower The Poseidon with the given clarity in her love.

“Do speak your heart, little one. For what he has you shall know it if you’re willing to be open first.”

“What if it does not go the way we hoped it …”

The faint voice sounds holding a concealed despair within, as those small hands clench the fabric of her dress. She does not know, though with all the affection she has and the many days she spent with Poseidon— never did she be brave enough to say that the sea God returns her feelings. To even when Poseidon is well known to shove people away from his gate, putting thick and tall wall around, but how he was willing to sleep in her chamber, listening to her worries, or how he often offers his arm to escort her in a hall full of Divines, as if she is his consort. She only thinks it is a courtesy he shows to one who stays loyal to him.

Afterall, he is Poseidon. A hard God to approach and crack. No one is to blame if the Goddess thinks that way.

Hades gets up, doing the same thing he did to his brother ; patting her crown softly before he walks his feet around the room to appreciate the arts. “Trust me, as his brother.”

A puff of breath leaves her lips as she chooses to give up, accepting the advice he gave her as she follows his steps. The king of the Underworld has his fingers upon his chin as his eyes wander to a painting that does attract his attention ; somehow it speaks Poseidon, with the light blue sea water that glimmers under the sun, which is slightly disguised beneath dark clouds, and the rest of the sea seems dark for its unthinkable depth. “You do love him so much, too much, little one.”

She giggles in flattery as she stands beside him, ready to give him a guide to her small gallery. “And is it a bad thing for being too much?”

Hades tilts his head to her direction, a gentle smile is displayed upon his strong, handsome face. He feels proud of her to finally admit what her heart desires, to show it with confidence lies in it.

“Never in heavenly love.”

[] nesi’s note : AHHH IT FEELS NICE TO POST AGAIN!! i hope you all enjoy this hihi btw for references i read plato’s symposium lmaoo so yeah if you feel like reading his mind, yes you are <3

[ihaveafandom-problem554]

i love your works oh my god, the wait was so worth it. thank you for doing my requests!! they all turn out great :D despite my username, I’m glad I made an account just so that I could request more of your spider bro content.

okay so uh I’m sorry if I’m requesting this a bit early since you only posted your latest spider bro today but after reading it, a sudden wave of problems and curiosity hit me so I thought:

‘yo aren’t the village gonna question why spider bro and rui only come around during sunset to night time sooner or later? are they gonna make up some excuse about them having some condition where if they stay in the sun for just a little bit they get really bad sunburn?? like “yeah so our parents died because they went out in the sun for too long so newbie demon slayers noticed this and thought they were demons in disguise and killed them, haha runs in the family amiright” idk ?? (sorry that’s a weird death) I like to imagine they pretend to be albino so that they can have an excuse in case someone ever asks them or say that they have jobs in the day time to support each other so they just visit around night time.

but honestly, I think the village would be a little sus of them but then they’ll be like “ehh they can’t be demons, they would’ve ate us already! plus they’re just so kind!!” so yeah.. (unless the village doesn’t really know about demons, then you can just ignore this)

okay so imma just start putting my ideas and prompt in here yeahh ..

so what I imagine is that the village knows about demons, but most just chalk it up as some sort of folklore to keep kids from wondering at night by themselves. however some (mostly the elders) claim to actually experience demon attacks so despite practically everyone living these two, they have their eyes on them just a bit..

the elders there would usually gather some kids and tell stories about demons roaming the night hunting for humans, and there would be people who would be as strong or stronger than the demons and slay them by cutting their heads off with a special blade- they say that there’s a whole organization dedicated for these specific people! and that those people who would sometimes come to the village with an odd uniform on are part of them.

one day while spider bro and rui visit the village, ashai drags them to where his grandfather would tell stories about demons and how the grandfather’s father were part of that organization and was called a “hashira” who mastered the sun breathing.

after that ashai would be like “that’s just gramps being all weird again with his whole demon slayer stuff, but it’s pretty interesting! it’s only a folklore though so you have nothing to be scared of. honestly, there’ll be times where I think you’re both demons or something because you guys act like you don’t know how to function as a human being sometimes, haha” and the spider bros would just be like “aha.. yeah..”

some of the elders start noticing that they only came around night, and unfortunately, not everyone is friendly. they kind of start interrogating them to the point where the other villagers would politely step in and tell them that they’re just kids with a condition that runs in their family (and rui becoming fed up then almost slashing them into ribbons). of course, a small portion of them don’t stop and are.. quite positive of it and would be a bit passive aggressive towards the two.

alright so I’ve come up with some ways it could go but I have no idea, you can decide which is better or somehow merge them together or mismatch and combine things,,, :D

1: obviously, the spider siblings can’t survive on human food. they’ll need human blood, the human food is just for when they get bored of eating humans for a bit. but.. how are they gonna get some? they can’t eat the village, and as much as they found the elders annoying they couldn’t since 1, they were pretty much right about them, and 2, if they were to eat the elders/anyone who found them suspicious even more people would start growing sus of them.

maybe.. the demon slayers that came to the village every now and then?

(name) would usually just use his spiders and take at least a cup (or two if rui’s feeling hungry) of their blood and bandage them up to go.

it lasted for a few weeks, so he thought he could control it.

him and rui did their best to try and suppress the urge, they really did.

they vowed themselves to not eat innocent people after meeting the friendly village.

but whenever a demon slayer would come to the village and whenever they took one or two cups of their blood, the more they craved just devouring them right there and then.

it was true that the two had a dislike for demon slayers, but they can’t say that most of them aren’t innocent. (I mean.. they kind of aren’t too)

they can’t do that.

but…

a few more cups won’t hurt, right?

a few days pass, and the butterfly mansion has been getting more and more demon slayers, most of them were from dangerously high blood loss, just enough for them to live and walk.. kind of.

and they all came from near the mountain.

but.. (I’m assuming this is after the fight between tanjiro and rui, but instead rui got away before tomioka could show up) didn’t tomioka, shinobu, and a few other demon slayers slay all of the demons there? unless there are a few hiding.. however they claim to not have entered the mountain, and instead went straight to a nearby village. they also claim to not have remembered anything about getting their blood taken, just waking up on a floor near the village with their arm bandaged up (it always happened at night time, too).

two or more days pass before they send some demon slayers to come investigate.

these demon slayers of course being tanjiro, inosuke, and zenitsu (plus nezuko).

when they arrived, it had been around 5 to 6, just before the spider siblings came to visit.

as they entered, tanjiro could smell a very faint scent of a demon almost everywhere (mainly around the shops and the people)- so faint that he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t searching for demons right now.

but before he could try to track it down, many young children from the village ran up to them and started excitedly asking about their uniform and their swords.

“are you guys demon slayers?”

“are grandpa’s weird demon stories are true?”

“can I touch the sword???”

it was no secret that they stood out from the crowd, and the villagers usually didn’t really question it because each demon slayer looked pretty normal and bland.

tanjiro smiled remembering his younger siblings all getting ready to eat and play during spring time.

zenitsu noticed tanjiro being confused and told them that demon slayers weren’t very well known, but it seems like it’s a folklore from around here.

and inosuke, of course was about taken aback by all of these mini humans running around them and was about to fight them until tanjiro reassured him.

ashai ran towards them thinking that rui and (name) was here a bit earlier than usual but was a bit disappointed when he got closer to clearly see their faces (and a boar head).

I TOLD MYSELF I SHOULD'VE ADDED A SCENE WHERE OLDER SPIDER BROTHER EXPLAINS TO ASHAI THAT HE GETS REALLY BAD SUNBURN BUT MY LAZY ASS SAID NO. ACTUALLY FUCK ME WHY AM I SO LAZY!?

Anyway let's do this..

Ok so the Village are familiar with demons and demon slayers but they take it as a Folklore since the grandparents keep mentioning it to the kids.

And before [Name] brung Rui, Ashai did ask him why he only came when the sunsets. And [Name] told him he was really sensitive to the sunlight, like, to the point it would actually burn him really bad.

And Ashai looked at him saying, "You could've just said you get really bad sunburn.."

And yes, his mom did smack him for saying that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hi Ashai! You seem happy today."

"[Name]! Rui!" Ashai called out, running towards the two boys. Rui immediately pouted when he noticed the voice calling up to them wasn't one of the kind ladies trying to offer him food. Meanwhile, [Name] smiled at the boy's presence and walked faster towards Ashai.

"Yeah! I want to bring you to my grandfather-”

“Why?- Wait was is that..” Rui interrupted causing Ashai to stop walking and face Rui. “You did not just ask what a grandfather is.”

“I did. Now I want an answer.” Rui demanded his facial expression not changing a bit. Ashai sighed before explaining what a grandfather was, later explaining what a grandmother was, then explaining what a great grandfather and grandmother was.

Before Rui could ask anymore questions about people’s parents, Ashai changed the subject to the reason why he wanted to take them to his grandfather. 

‘Demon slayers’ was the first thing that came out of Ashai’s mouth and it made the two spider sibling’s heart drop. Rui’s heart dropped even deeper once he heard the word ‘Hashira’. It was almost impossible to hide the fact that it bothered him greatly.

Ashai turned around to race the two, and met their petrified expressions. Thinking they were terrified about the demon folklore, he immediately stopped talking and cupped [Name]'s face to try and reassure him.

"Oh no don't worry! It's just some dumb folklore, there's nothing to worry about! The demons aren’t real, it’s just some dumb story to keep the little ones from going outside at night. Its just gramps being all weird again with his whole demon slayer stuff, but it’s pretty interesting! Again, it’s only a folklore though so you have nothing to be scared of.” Ashai says letting go of [Name]’s face and opens the door for the two siblings to walk through. “Honestly, there’ll be times where I think you’re both demons or something because you guys act like you don’t know how to function as a human being sometimes, haha” Ashai joked, hoping to lighten the mood a bit

[Name] nervously laughed back while Rui just glared.

As the 3 boys walked inside the minka, [Name] noticed no one else was there except for the old man and Madam Yui. Not only that, but there was some strange aura in the air, as if he wasn’t welcome here. Turning over to Rui, [Name] can see his uneasy expression as well. But before he got the chance to say anything, Yui spoke aloud.

“Oh! sorry boys grandpa needs to rest, I’m sure if you come back later he’ll tell you one of his stories.”

A quiet sigh of relief was emitted from Rui. “Aww, that sucks I really wanted to you guys to here some of his stories.” Ashai pouted slightly. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be awake soon.. Ashai, go over to the bakery and get the box wrapped in blue, its for your grandfather, don’t take to long ok?”

“Ok.. [Name]! Come with me-”

“No, I need him for something, just go over to the bakery real quick, get the box and come back.”

“But-”

“Nothing sweetie.. Hi Rui” Yui smiled, hugging the demon child who had just ran up to her. “How are you baby? Did you eat the food I sent you home with?”

“Go young man.”

Knowing he couldn’t argue any further, Ashai reluctantly went over to the bakery without [Name]. “That boy is obsessed with you, isn’t he?” Madam Yui joked. Unfortunately for [Name], he was too busy staring at the door Ashai just went through to hear what Yui said, causing him to answer a couple seconds late. “H-huh”

“The tempura and Sushi? Yeah we finished it.”

“Oh, you must still be hungry.. [Name] can you close all the blinds and sweep the floor?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you dear, I’ll be in the kitchen with your brother if you need me” Yui said, walking into the kitchen with Rui.

[Name] got straight to work, closing the blinds and sweeping isn’t anything hard...But the strange aura he felt before when he first entered, intensified. It almost felt like the air gotten thicker as well.

As [Name] swept closer to the sleeping grandfather, he noticed something right next to him. Taking a closer look, [Name]'s eyes at the sight of the samurai sword. Why does it look bigger than the usual than the swords I’ve seen.

After staring at the sword for a bit, [Name] finally looked away from the sword to finish sweeping. 

“I kill your kind with this exact sword”

...

“Is that what you tell the demons before you kill them?” [Name] questions, trying his best not to show the slightest amount of fear in his voice. “Every. single. one.” [Name] nodded, but refused to face the owner of the voice and the larger than normal sword. “Your kind disgusts me. Killing innocent souls just for your selfish needs.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘Your kind’ sir-”

“Demons.” He spat. “I mean Demons.” [Name] only nodded, no words, justs movements. Speaking of movements, the old man began to get up and slowly move closer to [Name]. Shit, what do I do now?

After hearing Ashai say that his grandfather was a Hashira, [Name] knew that his age didn’t affect the way he moved. The retired hashira can block his way to the door in the matter of seconds. He didn’t want to question how fast he was compared to a sun-breathing hashira. So he put the broom down and finally face the old man who was ten feet away from him. “Who many demons did you ki-”

“You may have fooled everyone in this village with your little story. But I’m not naive.” The sun breathing hashira was now walking towards [Name]. [Name] wasted no time walking towards the kitchen, he could probably notify madam Yui..

If it wasn’t for the sun breather grabbing [Name] by the neck. "Like I said before... your kind disgust me. And don't get me started on your excuse of a leader 'Muzan kibutsuji' (I hate his last name. I've spent about five minutes trying to figure out if the first half was 'kitbust' or 'kibust'). You don't happen to have any information on him do you?" With every word, the hashira tighten his grip on [Name]'s neck. Making it harder and harder for [Name] to breathe. "And don't worry about him finding you after you tell me, I'll kill you the second I get the information I need."

"A-and...wh..if...don't..?" [Name] was barely audible and on the verge of blacking out with the insane grip on his neck. He could taste own blood at this point, but he wasn't concerned about the blood trickling out of his mouth, he was more concerned about how no one was here to save him. Madam Yui told Ashai not to take long, and the bakery isn't far away from here. So what the hell?

Without waiting another second, [Name] unleashed a tiny spider to go and kill the hashira. Sure he was Ashai's grandpa but, it was either this old man or him.

"Have nothing to say? Well that's disappointing.." [Name] could feel his eyes threatening to shut as he Choked on his own blood. "P-plea....sto..p" he tried to plead. "If it wasn't for you disgusting demons.. my wife would've still been alive. I swear, I will defeat your leader, and kill every single one of you good for nothing demons-"

"GRANDPA NO HE ISN'T A DEMON! LET HIM GO" Ashai yelled, alerting Madam Yui who came rushing out of the Kitchen, Rui not to far behind. "Put him down Grandpa! He isn't a demon!" Ashai pleaded, gripping onto his grandfather's hamari, tears threathing to spill from his eyes. "PLEASE STOP YOUR HURTING HIM!"

"Oh Ashai, this isn't what you call a friend. This is a human eating demon, that killed your- OW DAMMIT" The hashira yelled in pain, thus letting go of [Name].

Once [Name] hit the floor, he immediately sucked in as much air as he could before choking again.

"[NAME] are you ok?!" Ashai called, rushing over to help [Name]. Rui would've done the same if it wasn't for Yui protectively holding on to him.

"When was the last time you took your medicine? You almost killed him! He's only a child" Yui quickly scolded the elder. " Oh sweetheart.. that kick was so powerful it almost broke my arm. You should-"

"I'm not and won't become a demon slayer. Go back to your room and take your medicine. You almost killed him!"

"He isn't a kid. That thing is a demon.. And so is the smaller one your holding."

"They aren't demons-"

"They how come they only come out when the sun goes down?" To that Madam Yui didn't have an answer. She never really thought about why they did come when the sun isn't out. Thankfully Ashai spoke up just before the elder could prove his point. "Their both sensitive to sun the sunlight. Both their parents died because of that."

Madam Yui held Rui even tighter as she looked back at the elder. "Ashai go take [Name] to Ms. Reiki." She demanded. Without thinking Ashai immediately picked up [Name] and proceeded to carry him to whoever Ms. Reiki was.

"I know you wanna check on [Name], Rui, don't worry we'll go there in a minute." Yui reassures, while cupping Rui's left cheek. "Yui, your not this naive."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, hurting a defenseless child-"

"He isn't a child.. You know that demons basically have a unlimited lifespan? That 'kid' is most likely 40 years old"

"Your just delusional, you haven't taken your medicine all day have you?"

"I do not need that Goddamn Medi...cine.. What the hell are you staring at?!" The elder quickly spat at the small spider boy who stared at the two adults.

"Nothing.. I didn't know older people quarreled.. I thought only children quarreled." Rui said with pure innocence. "I thought when hu- people got older they learned how to settle their arguments maturely, rather than idiotic children that need someone superior than them to settle it for them"

The two adults stared at Rui, both with different intentions of what to do next. "Oh, Rui, It's-"

"Don't explain anything to that thing." The elder spat. Rui watched as the two adults argued with each other. For some strange reason Rui was invested slightly uncomfortable but couldn't help but listen to what they had to say.

Throughout this argument, Rui learned some new words..

...

"I'm so sorry about my Grandfather, [Name], my mom said he's been having some illusions lately.. I didn't expect it to get this worse." Ashai apologized for the 26th time. "Like... I said for 26th...time Ashai, its ok! I'm fine really.."

"I know but he choked you and called you a demon! Why are you so calm about it?! You could've died!"

".....But I didn't..So..Yay?..." [Name] jazzed-hand. Ashai just sighed in response.

"That's odd.." Ms. Reiki said to herself, but the boys were interested anyway. "What's is it Reiki-san?" Ashai asked, his voice full of concern. "You said your grandfather choked him right?..Oh nevermind it's probably nothing.." She dismisses. "How's your throat? Is it feeling sore?"

"Well-"

"Don't speak. Just nod or shake your head." Reiki quickly spoke. [Name] nodded slightly before smiling at Reiki. "Your welcome sweetie.. Oh! Yui, is everything.."

"Everything's ok.." The two boys turned their heads to face Yui, who had just walked in with a sleeping Rui. "[Name] I am terribly sorry for what occurred and your injuries."

"It's-"

"What did I say about speaking?"

Not wanting to know the punishment for disobeying a nurse, [Name] nodded again with a smile, hoping Madam Yui will see that he forgives her. Thankfully she understood and returned a smile. " [Name] you can go, just remember to take it easy on your throat and take the medication I gave you." [Name] obeyed and made note to throw out the medication, since it had no use to him.

Both Reiki and Madam Yui watched the [Name] walk out with his admirer, Ashai.

As they left, the two women looked at each other with worry some expressions. "How did it even happened?" Reiki asked immediately. "I'm not sure.." Yui answered in disappointment. "I was in the kitchen with Rui because he wanted a snack. Then all of a sudden I hear Ashai yelling something about a demon so I ran out to see him choking [Name]"

"Did he take his medicine? Or did he continue to rant about how he doesn't need it?"

"That exactly" Yui sighed. She looked down at the sleeping Rui she had in her hands. The only thing she could think about was how the situation would have happened if she didn't come out sooner.. Rui would've lost the only member of his family.. he would've been traumatized for the rest of his life.. "The nerve of him to call him a demon.." Yui spoke through her teeth in anger.

Taking a second to rid off any dark thoughts she turned back to Reiki. "I'm leaving now. I want the kids to eat something before they leave, have a nice night."

"Same to you as well"

...

"You need to eat a human"

"I'm aware of that.. But who am I going to eat?" [Name] questioned. It has passed a few weeks ever since the two spider siblings ate a human body. Sure, the human's food is tasty and gives them energy for a couple hours, but it doesn't give them the nutrients they need. Day by day they can feel their bodies growing weaker do to the lack of human blood in their system. [Name] could care less about his own health, he was more concerned about Rui and what he was gonna eat. Every couple minutes or so, he could here Rui's stomach growl from hunger.

It pained him to see Rui in this state. Yet he's been in this state for weeks now and [Name] still doesn't know what to do or who to eat.

"We can eat that old sun-breather" Rui suggested. [Name]'s eyes widen in response. "Or" Rui continued, "We can eat everyone else who called us a demon! We'll make them regret-"

"We can't do that.."[Name] sighed. [Name] knows that Rui's way smarter than this, but after weeks of being around humans and not being able to take a even a bite out of them, is bond to do something to the way he thinks.

"They've been accusing us for being demons, if they suddenly go missing, we would have a lot of suspicion towards us."

"If we can't eat any of the old people or anyone else at the village who can we eat?" Rui asked, completely annoyed. "It's already a problem that we can't go out during the day when the sun's out, so how can we- uhh... [Name] what- what are you doing?" Rui questioned as he watched [Name] create a small spider and send it out to go in the opposite direction towards the deeper part of the woods.

"[Name], What are you?- huh?" Rui stopped talking as he sees a demon slayer slowly walk towards him like a mindless zombie.

"You did so well sweetie~" [Name] cooed to his spider, gently petting the spiders head. "uhh.."

"mh? Oh! I heard footsteps coming while you were talking.. I don't think we can devour the body this time though.. they'll probably send in more demon slayers complaining about a demon."

Rui stared at the demon slayer who had no control over their body. It's right there in front of him, he has every right to devour the vulnerable human, but then at the same time he doesn't. Just because people don't know he's a bloodthirsty demon who needs human blood to survive.

"Cut the skin open, you can suck the blood off of that. Take as much as you want but don't take too much so they can't walk, ok?" [Name] said. "Wait what about you? You need to-"

"It's fine, you need it more than me, I'll just fine another-"

"No. Take some as well, we don't know the next time you'll get choked like that.. or be threaten with wisteria.. we might not be able to regenerate as fast as we used too. I won't take a lot.. A cup or two should be enough to last a week or so." Rui demanded. [Name] only nodded in response.

Rui examined the slayer standing in front of him, figuring out where to suck the blood out of. "Cut open wherever chubbiest and take some blood. I'll send out a couple of my spiders to grab some bandages so we can patch them up. Then we'll leave them here and continue with our day." [Name] said, already making bigger than normal sized spiders to send out to the village to steal some bandages.

"How often are we gonna do this?" Rui asked while using his threads make a 'X' formation around the slayers hips. "I guess every couple weeks? or when your feeling hungry..."

It was surprising how well they managed to control themselves for so long. After taking a little more than one cup of blood, they soon decided to reward themselves with another two cups. After being satisfied, they cleaned and bandaged the body. Later leaving it mindless on the ground waiting for sunrise to come and free it from it's curse.

The spider siblings decided to do this every week or two. Find a slayer, drain most of its blood, patch it up, and pretend like nothing happened. It was hard trying not to devour the human, but the managed. Sure they had to hold each other back every now an then but the really are trying..

Meanwhile the butterfly mansion was trying to solve the mystery of the barely walking slayers with bandaged arms, legs, neck, and or stomach with a dangerously high amount of blood loss.

"Shinobu! We got another one!" Aoi called from the door frame leading to the medical room. "And Yes! Its the same bandaging pattern!" Shinobu sighed, yet kept the smile that was always on her face. This is the 5th one this month, the last person was barely alive.. if this keeps going...

"Oh! Another one?" Kanae (Yes she's alive here, I really miss her) said walking into the same room as Shinobu. "Your back so soon?" Shinobu questioned. "Only for a bit... I do have to get going soon. But since it is still day, I thought I would be able to get some more information on why some of our people are coming back with a terrible amount of blood loss. You care to join me?" Kanae offered, signaling Shinobu to follow her. Without a doubt, Shinobu followed her sister to medical room Aoi was in.

...

"Wait, The mountain that's a couple miles from here?" Shinobu asked, interrupting the story the only stable slayer was telling. "Y-Yeah actually.." The slayer answered.

"That's odd.." Kanae remarked, putting her index finger to her on her chin. "Shinobu, didn't you and tomioka slayed all the demons near the mountain?"

"Yes. Indeed we did.. We even raided the shed near the mountain."

"Act-actually.." The slayer spoke up "I never went to the mountain.. I went straight to the village near the woods."

"Why go straight to the village?"

"I was going to ask the people there if they had experince any suspicious activity. But before I got to the village, I felt something bite me. That's when I passed out. I wasn't sure how long I was out for, but when I woke up.. I was all bandaged up."

"Sorry to interrupt" Aoi interrupted "But, did you ever did get the chance to go to the village?"

"uuh no." The slayer concluded.

" Why'd you asked that Aoi?" Kanae asked. "Oh I wanted to know where the bandages came from. Anyway I should get back to work." Aoi claimed as she quickly walked off.

Aww she want to contribute but got nervous.. Kanae smiled to herself before getting up with a small stretch.

"Well!" Kanae clapped. "We'll send a couple demon slayers to investigate the area... Aoi said the patients claimed that it happened at night correct?"

"Uhh Yeah.."

"Then it's settled we'll send slayers right away to the area.. please get as much rest as you can and stay healthy, we will get to work immediately. Thank you!" And with that Kanae signaled her sister to follow her once more before leaving.

"Are you going to ask any of the Hashira to help?" Shinobu asked. "Well no that's not who I had in mind.."

"Then who?"

...

"We could've got here earlier if SOMEONE DIDN'T MAKE US STOP FOR TEMPURA!" Yelled a very pissed Zenitsu. Inosuke paid no attention to Zenitsu and instead enjoyed the last bite of Tempura he had in his mouth underneath his mask.

"Well it's only 5:48 so we have plenty of time to investigate the area" Tanjiro said trying his best to cause not another fight between Zenitsu and Inosuke for the fifth time today.

Zenitsu sighed. "Well? Do you smell anything?"

"Oh um.." Tanjiro took a second to sniff the air.

The village smelled friendly. Happy kids, happy adults, happy pets, demons, baked goods, fresh food, healthy environment..

"Huh?" Tanjiro said quietly to himself. He took another sniff around, taking him about a minute to finally, fully grab the demon scent.

"It's very faint." He unintentionally reported to Zenitsu. "It's on almost everything..and everyone.."

"Wait.. on the people too?! Dose that mean it's hiding as a human!?" Zenitsu began to panic. "It seems like it... how else would the scent get on the people."

"Start tracking it down gompochiro!!" Inosuke demanded.

"Right I should-"

"Is that a real sword?" A little girl asked. "Oh uh- where did you-"

"Are you a demon slayer?"

"Are grandpa's weird stories true?"

"Why do you have a boar hat?"

"Can I touch the sword?"

"Can I wear the boar hat?"

"Is that a bird on your head?"

A whole bunch of little kids ran up to the three strange looking people and asked them all the questions that came to mind. Not giving them the chance to answer.

Tanjiro smiled at all the kids who surrounded them, they reminded him of his siblings when it was time to eat or going out to play.

"Are Grandpa's weird stories true?"

Tanjiro's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought demon slayers weren't that well known.." Tanjiro questioned Zenitsu.

"INOSUKE STOP TRYING TO FIGHT THE KIDS- huh? Oh uhh I guess it's a folklore around here.. maybe to keep the kids from walking out at night or- INOSUKE NO"

"LITTLE ONES FIGHT MEEEEEEEE!!!"

"No! No Inosuke these are kids, you know? The ones we don't fight!" Tanjiro quickly reassured. "Huh? Why not?? Their just like us but smaller! They can fight!!"

"Oh you got to be kidding me-"

"[Name]! I didn't know you were coming this early- oh hi! Sorry.. I thought you were someone else.." Ashai apologized, he thought [Name] and Ashai came earlier due to the ruckus outside in front. Instead he ran up to a couple of strangers in weird clothes and a shirtless boy in a boar hat.

---------------------------------------------------

So why did this take me a month to post? It's not even that long..

I'll edit this in the morning and answer the other asks in the morning as well.

Remember that requests are still open and have a nice night/day/afternoon/universe

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

- Chapter 9 -

Wen Ruohan presided over dinner in what was now a monthly occurrence.

He liked habit more, now that he was getting older; liked to have everything in its proper place.

Liked to indulge himself more.

Nie Mingjue mechanically forced down his food, drinking his soup first to fill his belly as quickly as possible. If he was very lucky, he might get a case of food poisoning, same as the one that had struck down the younger children that one time; if he did, he’d do his utmost to throw up all over Wen Ruohan’s shoes.

As always, they answered his questions. Wen Ruohan was just in the middle of an especially complicated hypothetical when one of his deputies rushed in with an urgent letter, falling to his knees before him. Wen Ruohan took the letter and read it; he scowled and dismissed them, rising to his feet to return to the throne room.

The reprieve felt like a brush of cool wind on a hot day.

Nie Mingjue caught Wen Xu’s eye.

Wen Xu winked.

-

It wasn’t really a surprise when the war started.

There were only so many hypothetical battle plans Nie Mingjue could be asked about, whether by Wen Ruohan or by Nie Huaisang and the younger generation of Wens, without him putting two and two together. He was put in the awkward situation of having to answer both sides to the best of his ability, and the whole thing started to feel a little like playing a game of go against himself.

“That’s what you get for being irritatingly good at tactics and with a knack for strategy, and having proven for years and years that you could find weaknesses in all of Sect Leader Wen’s hypothetical battleplans,” Nie Huaisang told him. “Talent brings with it its own punishment.”

“What’s your punishment for all your scheming, then?” Nie Mingjue asked, amused despite himself. “Becoming emperor and ruling the world?”

“I,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hand to his chest, “am going to grow up to be absolutely useless.”

“Nice try.”

To Nie Mingjue’s relief, Wen Ruohan did not send him to the front line, perhaps afraid that Nie Mingjue would attempt some sabotage or maybe merely run away, and that made it more difficult for him to implement the plans Nie Mingjue suggested to him. They were good, solid plans, each and every one of them, Nie Mingjue implementing everything he learned about the rules of war and adding in a touch of his own knack for forecasting how people would react in a fight, but living so long in Qishan meant that he knew a little bit about how people behaved the rest of the time, too.

He couldn’t make bad suggestions in the plans he recommended or Wen Ruohan would know, but he could propose a plan that required a will of iron and nerves of steel when he knew that the general in charge of that particular division was crafty but cautious, could suggest a complex maneuver requiring cooperation for a general who hated his underlings, could apply just a bit of the brattiness he’d picked up from Wen Chao and Nie Huaisang alike to make his plans just that little bit more annoying to implement.

He could murmur counterplans in the dark of the night when they were all supposed to be asleep, casually sharing a single bed because it was cold, the strange chill of the Nightless City’s interior despite the warmer climate. He could stare at the ceiling, reciting weakness after weakness of the plans he had proposed as if he was merely anxious about them, and this time he tailored those weaknesses to specific strengths: how the pincer maneuver wouldn’t work if it was used against the Jiang, especially if they relied on their watercraft to escape, turning strength to weakness by retaliating in the aftermath; how the advantageous high ground of the mountain would backfire if their enemy were the Lan, their battle-songs’ effectiveness multiplied by the clear mountain air and the resonance of the echoes; how the effect of the ambush would be halved if it was used against the Jin, who were so rich and so lazy that their baggage train would never move fast enough to spring the trap in full.

He still didn’t know how Nie Huaisang and Wen Chao exchanged letters with Lan Wangji, or what Wen Ning was doing over in the Lotus Pier with the full support of Jiang Fengmian’s mother-in-law, or even what scheme Wen Xu and Wen Qing had concocted between them to lure in the normally reluctant Jin sect and force them to take a side. He didn’t need to know, didn’t want to know; he wanted to put his body between them and Wen Ruohan, distract the man with his ‘walks’ and his punishments and the influence that Wen Ruohan thought meant he knew everything there was to know, and to give them as much time as he could manage before disaster struck.

“Isn’t it time for Nie Huaisang to go to the Cloud Recesses?” he asked, playing ignorant, in the middle of a dinner when Wen Ruohan was already stewing over some unfortunate reversals, more than a few caused by the reemerged Qingheng-jun, who had taken on the mantle of leading the war as its general.

Wen Ruohan turned to him with lightning in his eyes, and Nie Mingjue didn’t have to opine on the war for an entire week, confined as he was to his sickbed.

But good things could not last, and he closed his eyes in anticipation of pain when Wen Xu came to sit by his bed in the middle of the night.

“Where is he sending you?” he asked. The two of them were the only ones old enough to be used in war, the others too young to go even for someone as disdainful of social norms as Wen Ruohan, and if Nie Mingjue could not be trusted on a battlefield then it had to be Wen Xu.

“I’m sorry,” Wen Xu said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault – are you supposed to tell him no? I know you will do everything you can to stop the worst of the war, to fight honorably and with fairness, avoiding harm to the common people.”

Wen Xu swallowed audibly. “You’ve always thought so well of me,” he murmured. “Always assumed such things…to continue to do badly even after I knew what you thought of me was to fail to live up to your expectations, and even if it made things harder sometimes, the alternative of letting you down was always worse. I hate to disappoint you now.”

“You won’t.”

There was a pause, a long silence. Wen Xu gathering his thoughts, steeling his spine.

“He wants me to burn the Unclean Realm.”

Nie Mingjue had expected a blow. He had not expected –

He exhaled, hard, and found Wen Xu’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly.

I cannot forgive this, he meant. But I will hate him for it instead of you.

-

When the news came, Nie Mingjue allowed himself to feel for the first time the rage he had been swallowing down for nearly five years – his father’s rage, his family’s rage, Baxia’s rage, his own.

Training the saber was a style that promoted aggression, both in fighting and in the soul, and yet Nie Mingjue had restrained himself to the point of agony, oppressing himself internally as thoroughly as Wen Ruohan did externally, and all because he knew that the consequences of his actions would not be felt by him alone.

Because he was still his sect’s heir, still the rightful leader of Qinghe Nie, and if he could by his submission and humiliation earn them even a little more consideration, he would do it, however anathema it was to him.

He would be his sect’s heir before he was his father’s son, forgetting injustice and bending knee to his father’s killer – he would keep silent, no matter what he endured.

Wen Xu burned the Unclean Realm, and for the first time, Nie Mingjue put aside his silence.

He howled.

At first, Wen Ruohan laughed at him – the rage of the impotent was merely attractive coloring to him – but Nie Mingjue was not so foolish as to waste the gift of anger so easily. He did not do what Wen Ruohan had undoubtedly expected him to do: savage some training dummies, beat up a few pointless guards, beat himself even if only to vent the pain in his heart.

He did what Wen Ruohan did not expect.

Nie Mingjue, who loved only his family more than his sect –

He lashed out at them.

Nie Mingjue rampaged through the familial quarters at the Nightless City: he burned a sobbing Nie Huaisang’s fans, calling him worthless and a disappointment on their family name; he destroyed a cauldron in Wen Qing’s room in the midst of a batch of medicine she was making, unable to find her but naming her complicit, shouting that she supported evil from behind a façade of righteousness; he attacked Wen Chao’s room, searching for the son of his enemy and calling for his head, demanding blood for blood, red-eyed with fury, searching for a target.

He found one.

Not Wen Chao himself, of course – Nie Mingjue was not, as he was pretending to be, truly maddened beyond all reason, for all that the sorrow and anger he felt were real – but rather his bodyguard, who was nominally there to protect him.

Wen Zhuliu, the Core-Melting Hand. A technique that could only be used for two things, for scaring people – or turning the course of a single battle.

For destroying good people on the other side of the war, turning them into regular people that could not fight, and destroying morale at the same time – Wen Zhuliu was a plague-carrier, a danger that needed to be avoided, as much as weapon simply in the threat of him as he was in actual reality.

Wen Zhuliu was a fierce fighter, more powerful than a person with that sort of technique usually was, and Nie Mingjue was not in as good a shape as he could be, still recovering both emotionally and physically from his last walk with Wen Ruohan and the consequences of his insolent tongue, but he had the advantage of surprise on his side and his saber was unmatched in close combat, the melee his specialty.

By the time Wen Ruohan realized that Nie Mingjue had turned against his own in a way he’d been refusing to do for years and came to stop him, Nie Mingjue had already claimed Wen Zhuliu’s head, sticking it on a makeshift pike before burning the body as an offering in his father’s name.

He turned, red-eyed, to look upon the man he would much rather have killed but knew in his weakness that he couldn’t, and in the strength and safety of his rage decided to give it his best shot anyway.

It didn’t work, of course.

This time he was bedridden for more than a week.

-

Nie Mingjue found himself missing the others more than he thought he would.

He’d anticipated it, of course. The instant Wen Xu had told him his mission, the plan had leapt fully-formed into his mind, the only way he could think of to keep the younger children safe since there was no way to keep them beneath Wen Ruohan’s notice. In Wen Ruohan’s eyes they were tools, not yet old enough to be properly useful but still sharp enough to use where it counted – he knew how much Nie Mingjue loved them, and if the war went badly he would undoubtedly threaten their lives to get Nie Mingjue’s compliance, would use them as leverage to send him to the front line as a general for the wrong side. Any failure would be punished, and Nie Mingjue didn’t need personal experience to know that war was nothing but failures, one right after the other, interspersed with occasional victories snatched from the jaws of defeat.

Wen Ruohan would not accept that. He would hurt the children, again and again, just to hurt him.

He would put his attention on them, and when he did, he would figure out what they were doing. All their little schemes would become clear to his eyes, and then –

There was no and then. It was unthinkable.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t strong enough to stop Wen Ruohan, no more than he could stop the full weight of a rushing river, but like the river even Wen Ruohan could be diverted if you were clever enough about it.

Nie Mingjue was not especially clever, he didn’t think, not the way Nie Huaisang or Wen Xu or even Wen Qing were, but that was why he thought his plan would work – Wen Ruohan wouldn’t expect it from him.

He would accept the surface reading of what happened: he would think that Nie Mingjue had succumbed to his family’s curse and lashed out blindly in his rage, burning bridges it had taken him years to build, and his cruel mind would immediately leap to how he could use this to hurt and torment him. He would know that Nie Mingjue would be all the more pained if he knew that Wen Ruohan was using his gross violation of trust to replace his influence on the children, which Wen Ruohan hated, with his own.

Under the circumstances, it would hurt him more for Wen Ruohan to treat them well, seeking to seduce them into dependence, than it would hurt him to see them in pain. Nie Mingjue could only count on Wen Ruohan’s sadism to do the rest.

(And since he had no choice but to break with his family in such a horrible way, there was no reason not to take advantage of the situation to get rid of Wen Zhuliu. The benefits outweighed the costs – or at least, the benefits went to everyone, while the costs fell only on him, and he could accept that.)

Nie Mingjue had already seen the fruits of his efforts. At the very beginning, when Nie Mingjue was still bedridden, Wen Ruohan had brought Nie Huaisang with him to the room in the Fire Palace where Nie Mingjue had been imprisoned, and Nie Huaisang had quailed away from him, rocking backwards a little, almost even leaning behind Wen Ruohan as if Nie Mingjue was the scarier of the two.

(Nie Mingjue knew that Nie Huaisang was the finest actor of their group, but oh – it hurt, it hurt!)

Wen Ruohan smiled at the spasm of pain that crossed Nie Mingjue’s face and put his hand on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder as he drew him away.

Nie Mingjue wanted to cut off that hand and burn it to ashes.

He wanted –

He wanted many things.

A different life, for the most part. To live somewhere where he didn’t have to make these sorts of dirty calculations, to hurt the people he loved in order to save them from worse pain. Where he would be able to take Nie Huaisang into his arms and whisper promises that he wasn’t going to succumb to a qi deviation the way their father had, at least not any time soon; where he could buy Wen Qing a half-dozen new cauldrons in apology; where he could tell Wen Chao that he didn’t mean any of the things he’d forced himself to say…

He’d warned them, of course. But there was knowing, and then there was experiencing, and he – he hated to disappoint them, even a little.

And in all his plans he hadn’t realized how terribly he’d miss them, all of them, now that he couldn’t see them.

There was nothing to do but miss them now that he was here, trapped in a small little bed in a small little room with barely any light but that which came in through the door when someone walked by, all alone and waiting for Wen Ruohan to decide his fate.

A fate that was a lot less certain than it had once been, Nie Mingjue reflected. Wen Ruohan had once been bound by etiquette to keep him alive, to pretend to the cultivation world that his forced adoption was an act of generosity rather than an outright act of conquering, but all of those reasons went away now that the cultivation world had declared war on him.

He’d already sent Wen Xu to burn the Unclean Realm. Why bother with hiding behind a puppet?

At least it didn’t seem like Wen Ruohan had realized it yet.

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 8)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, (here)

Ao3 link HERE

Please note, this is pretty heavy, it deals with a lot of common insecutiries for adults with ADHD and Jaskier blames himself for a lot of things, but it’s not triggering in the traditional sense. Much of this fic has been about the ways Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria and other ADHD symptoms can cause self-destructive actions, this focuses on other insecurities, common blames, and then the self-isolation that can come from guilt, even unfounded guilt.

Please remember, in this fic’s world Geralt and Jaskier actually do have a loving and pretty healthy friendship, albeit with communication issues. People fight some times, these are just ways in which RSD can mess with healthy relationships.

OTHER TW: Mentioned child abuse.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Yennefer and Ciri asked Jaskier to come down for supper that evening. Between lunch and dinner he’d napped, evidently passing out wasn’t the same as actual good-quality rest and his body was demanding it’s due. Evening came around, though and Yen took his elbow to help him stand.

They walked at a slow pace down the hall, Jaskier’s body not up for much more. Ciri stuck behind them, but the pace was embarassingly painstaking.

“Ciri,” Yennefer said. “This is a lot for Jaskier, and will take some time, why don’t you go see if they need help in the kitchen?”

Ciri gave one more concerned look at Jaskier, then bounded off. 

Yennefer steered Jaskier to an alcove in the stone of the hallway. He was embarrassed to find himself out of breath.

“What are you going to do?” She asked him. She wasn’t asking about his lungs.

“Eat supper I suppose.”

“I mean about Geralt.”

He knew she meant Geralt, and sighed. “I don't know, Ciri says I'm angry and I am...”

“But?”

“That day on the mountain I didn’t give him space,” Jaskier said, feeling a lump grow in his throat, blocking off his already small air supply.

“I never know when to give people space, I never have, I've been working on it my whole life and I still don't understand.” His chest ached. With emotion, with pneumonia, with tiredness. With shame.

“I’ve always been different, you know?” He looked up at Yennefer. He was taller than her but she sat regally, and he was hunched over, conserving his air.

“In stories being different is usually a good thing, you get cool powers and people love you, but life isn’t like that. And being different is...it’s so much worse when you’re a kid.”

“I know,” Yennefer said. Those purple eyes...she knew. She understood, probably better than anyone. There were parts of her story that Jaskier didn’t have, wasn’t entitled to, but she understood.

“I cant do things I'm not interested in, not don’t want to, can’t. Even if I am interested, they don't always get done,” Jaskier whispered, like he was confessing to a priest, not a barely-friendly witch in a cold hallway.

“I’m nothing but a ball of loose ends, tangled up and bouncing around, running into people and making them as tangled as I am,” Jaskier said. It came out half-sobbed, which upset his breathing and he began to wheeze, then cough.

“If I’m not interested in something, if nothing lights up my mind, I get so sad and tired it’s like this horrible weight.” Jaskier kept talking, feeling the emotions fighting to get out. “Being around people helps, I can get things done, be more normal. And interesting people, oh they’re the best, of course. They keep that awful sad, tired feeling away because they’re always interesting.”

He looked down at his knees, wrapped in their battered trousers.

“But I need to be around them so much,” he whispered. “And I’m too much for anyone to want around long.”

He leaned his head against the cold stone of the alcove wall, staring blankly and watching as his field of vision blurred with tears.

“I’m dramatic,” he said. 

“You’re a bard.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Dad called me a pansy, among worse things. He tried to beat it out of me. I just, I seem to feel more than other people. Happy is more happy, but sadness, fear, rejection, they’re all so much worse. I overreact and it makes me hard to deal with.”

He felt a tear roll down and get caught in the scruff on his chin. “I need people though, and I need people to like me. Crowds come and go I just needed one person to like me so I forced it to be Geralt.”

Jaskier was crying in ernest now, full tears falling and shoulders shaking, clogging up his breathing so his cries mingled painfully with coughs. Yennefer reached out and pulled at his shoulder, bringing him up from his hunched over position.

“I’m angry at him even though it was my fault,” he said, wretchedly.

“I followed him and took advantage of the fact that he doesn’t talk because he wont tell me to go away. I took advantage of his patience like that so someone could keep me around and I let myself believe that he actually wanted me around, that just one person could bear being around me. And being with him left me time to go seek out other interests, go ahead or stay behind, I never got bored and it was perfect for me and probably hell for him.”

Jaskier sniffled, looking away and studying the wall because he couldn’t bear to see the condemnation that would surely be on Yennefer’s face.

“And I fell in love with him. Which was stupid because I've been using him this entire time,” he whispered. 

“I used him for music and money, then I used him to bandage my self esteem and its all my fault.”

Jaskier finally managed to look at Yennefer and saw that she was actually rolling her eyes.

 “It’s not your fault, he was on a horse, you were walking, he could have left you behind anywhere.”

“He’s too kind to leave me to die on my own.”

“What about towns?” Yennefer asked. “What about the djinn?”

“The djinn was my fault.”

“The djinn was his fault,” Yennefer said, stubbornly.

“The djinn was my fault, I thought he was joking. He’d do that, you know? I’d ask him what he was doing and he’d say ‘cooking a unicorn’ or ‘hunting a gabledegook’ so I just thought he was joking again because I thought surely a djinn was only a story. Even if they weren’t there was no reason Geralt would want one. I made horrible wishes, they could have ruined lives, can you imagine?”

“I can.”

Of course she could. It had been stupid of him to say that, Yennefer knew better than anyone how a careless wish, or even a not so careless one, could turn out.

“I have to ask,” Jaskier said, since Yennefer didn’t seem in the mood to turn him into a salamander. “Did geralt wish for you to love him?”

“He wished for me to be bound to him the sex was just...adrenaline, magic, wanting another outsider, a little bit of the djinn. I won’t do it again.” She said, fervently.

“You don’t have to promise that, I have no claim to him,” Jaskier said.

“No one has claim to anyone,” Yennefer snapped. “But you love him. Anyway, I wasn’t telling you, I don’t want him. I don’t want sex with him I want his destiny, our destiny, nothing more.”

“I love him very much,” Jaskier said, after she settled from her outburst.

“Have you ever told him?”

Never, he might think he owes me something.”

“I think you think he’s more self sacrificing than he is. He wouldn't date you out of obligation, he’s not that sort of man.”

Jaskier tilted his head back against the stone. “But he feels guilty, for everything, all the time. What if he did it as an apology.”

“Geralt wouldn't do you the disservice of a pity relationship.” 

“We had a pity friendship.”

“You didn't.”

“We did.”

Yennefer peered at him with those strange eyes. “You love him though.”

“I do.”

“I don’t think its a lost cause.”

“I do.”

Yennefer shifted, pulling her hair over one shoulder. “When I asked earlier, I meant what do you want to do after this? Do you even want to see Geralt?”

“Oh gods I rambled and --”

“Shut up, you needed it off your chest.”

Jaskier sighed. “I always want to see Geralt, but I don't think I should be around him. He needs more space than most people and I need less. I do want an apology, I don't want him to grovel, I don’t want him to beg for me back in his life because that's a choice I want him to make on his own. I don’t even need him to tell me through speech because I know that can be hard. He could write a letter.I just...”

“And if you got an apology?”

“I intend to apologize first. I’ll apologize, maybe he’ll apologize, and that way we can at least be friendly, if not friends. And then in the spring I’ll leave, take a different path and it won’t matter anymore.”

I won’t be able to hurt him anymore, Jaskier thought, darkly.

“Nilfgaard wants you,” Yennefer warned. 

“I know,” Jaskier sighed. “I may have to fake my death or... oh!” He looked up at Yen, smiling even as he wanted to cough. 

“You can wipe my memory!”

Yennefer actually recoiled. 

Jaskier’s excitement had set off the coughing and he felt it tear through his throat and squeeze at his ribs until the fit eased.

“I’m not wiping your memory,” Yennefer said, severely.

“Why not? Yen, it’s the perfect solution, and Nilfgaard couldn’t get anything out of me.”

“And Geralt get’s his damned wish,” Yennefer snarled.

Jaskier looked down. “I know he didn’t mean it, he’s a good man, he wouldn’t wish anyone gone in that way, but yes, that wish would be granted and I’d never bother him again.”

“Geralt has a habit of making stupid wishes that he doesn’t actually want granted,” Yennefer snapped.

“You’re supposed to be on his side,” Jaskier said, smiling wetly. “It’s my fault, remember?”

“I don’t think even Geralt’s on Geralt’s side,” Yennefer said. “I won’t take your memories. You wouldn’t remember anything.”

Jaskier deflated. “I guess I’m as good as dead if I can’t remember songs or how to play the lute.”

Yennefer shifted uncomfortably.

“I would forget how to play, wouldn’t I?”

“Well...” she said. “No. You would remember anything you’d learn, knowledge isn’t memories, you know? You’d even know your songs, just not why you knew them or that you’d written them.”

“If you won’t do it, is there a mage who will? I’d only need to get to a city, how much do you think a spell like that would cost?”

Yennefer groaned. “No, bard, I’ll do it. If it’s what you still want, if you’re sure at the end of winter, yes, I’ll take your memories. It’s better than some quack doing it, or worse, turning you in to Nilfgaard but...I don’t like it.”

Jaskier was surprised to see her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I won’t take that choice from you,” she said, blinking hard. “But I hope it’s not the one you make.” She sniffed, she tried to make it seem disdainful but it was definitely tearful. 

“Anyway,” she said. “What about Ciri? She adore’s you, if you didn’t remember her it would break her heart.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I”m only a storyteller,” he said, wishing bitterly that it wasn’t true. “She has a whole marvelous family full of stories they can tell her.”

“Didn’t you hear her, she doesn’t feel like this is a family,” Yennefer said, sharply. 

“We’ll fix that.”

“So that you can abandon her, you mean?”

Jaskier grimaced. “It’ll be safer for her. Even if I traveled with Geralt, there’s no guarantee Nilfgaard wouldn’t take me, wouldn’t read my mind and put her in danger.” He looked Yennefer right in the eyes. “I won’t let myself hurt her.”

Yennefer hung her head. “We’ll discuss it at the end of winter,” she said. “Do you still feel up to dinner?”

Jaskier thought about it. He felt lighter, in a way, unburdening himself of the guilt he’d been carrying was better, but he was exhausted, and his chest felt raw. 

“I think I’d rather eat in my rooms,” he said sheepishly. 

He ate dinner alone, wishing he wasn’t but he was practicing giving people space, and he felt proud of himself for it. He only had to continue it, apologize, and get through the winter.

Then he’d never remember he had problems to begin with.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They will get there. Please read the note at the top, these are all very common ADHD insecurities and relationship problems. Remember, Geralt is not the villain. He needs to apologize, and he’s trying, but the villain is the insecurity.

Tag List!

@frywen-babbles @mordoriscalling @thedarkestangel1 @kerfufflezz  @samukai  @charlies-dragon @live-long-and-trek-on  @holymotherwolf @morte-mistrata @mewithanie @sharondnovels @stinastar @ionlylikemycat @annafortoday @its-the-quenchiest-stuff @kkiyomizu @so--many-fandoms @endless-whump @ineffable-monster-romancer @tookarma @seraphim-miryam  @sweetiepieplum @nerdy-numinuos @ravenclaw-dirt

[shadowmayura]

I didn’t think I’d be doing this, but it’s gotten to the point where some things have to be said.

Someone from my past has been making vagueposts about me lately and I can’t allow it to go unaddressed any longer. They are disingenuous and at times downright false, and they imply a certain type of relationship that simply did not exist.

If at this point you don’t know exactly who and what I’m talking about, please scroll by. I’m not going to be mentioning her by name and I’m not here to drag additional people into this big mess. This is solely to address any misconceptions for those who have already seen this person’s posts and are left confused by the strange phrasing and missing information.

(TW: harassment, emotional abuse, stalking, vomit)

This person and I met online in the spring of last year. Soon after, she confessed to me that she had a crush on me. I wasn’t interested for a variety of reasons (distance, not knowing her very well, and a lack of attraction on my end) and I gently let her down but suggested that we could still be friends. At no point did I promise a romantic relationship with this person.

We got to know each other better as friends. For a while, it was genuinely fun. I did not harbor any romantic feelings but I did enjoy being her friend. But in the summer, we began to spend more time together, and that’s where it started to go wrong. In reality, it was gradual, but it felt very sudden because the realization that things had changed came all at once. Her flirting had become a lot more aggressive and she was implying to other people that there was something between us. Playful teasing had turned to something far more demanding, and we were talking to each other nonstop, up to 10 hours per day every single day. When I realized how drastically our interactions had changed, I tried to pull back. I became very uncomfortable with how much couple-like behavior had emerged on her side when I did not want to be in that kind of relationship.

My decision was met with a lot of resistance. She was upset at me that I wanted to cut back on the amount of one-on-one time spent together, and she also was upset when I took a week-long break from Discord as a whole. We had our first argument over this. I thought we reached an understanding, but at the end of the conversion, she expressed her need for significant quality time between us, leaving me feeling like I hadn’t been heard at all. It’s worth noting that I hadn’t cut her out entirely at this point. We were still talking almost every day, but we weren’t on voice chat for hours on end any longer. I just wanted interactions that were closer to a normal friendship rather than a romantic relationship that I had never consented to.

It got worse leading into fall. The flirting continued and escalated. She drew “friendship portraits” of the two of us with strong romantic undertones. As she continued to push, I drew back. She didn’t like this. I was met with passive aggression when I tried to set boundaries and put a comfortable distance between us.

September is where it reached a head. On September 17th, she coerced me into a video chat that essentially served as an intervention for my choice. I had a bad feeling going into it, but she insisted that we video chat rather than text chat. I reluctantly agreed under her false pretense that it would be a conversation solely about fandom matters, but within 5 minutes, she was crying on video. I became very uncomfortable and I continued to look at a document on my computer so she could compose herself. She calmed down, but as soon as I claimed to be done looking at it, she turned the crying on again.

For about an hour, I was berated. She was crying and yelling, not allowing me to get a word in edgewise. She was, once again, very upset with me that I had been pulling away from her. I desperately wanted to leave the call, but I knew that there’d be hell to pay later if I did. I forced myself to sit through the whole thing. When she was done, I was shaking. She expected me to speak but I was unable to form words for several minutes and I was additionally berated for not saying anything, even though I had already been cut off many times. When I was able to pull myself out of the state I was in, I told her that our interactions had become far too romantically-focused for my comfort and that I didn’t want her to flirt with me anymore. I then ended the conversation as quickly as I could.

I vomited several times after we hung up and was shaking for hours. I couldn’t sleep that night. A few days later, I lost clumps of hair. It is stress-induced alopecia areata that I’m still receiving treatment for. I don’t say any of this to garner sympathy, but I want to emphasize that this was not a conversation that I look back on fondly. It was traumatic. This unfortunately is relevant later.

At this point, it is safe to say that I did not want to associate with this person any longer, but this was not an option for me. There were fandom commitments that tethered us together, and I knew I’d have to weather out the storm. If I didn’t, I would tear friend groups apart, drop commitments that I cared a lot about, and potentially ruin both of our reputations in the community.

I tried to maintain some distance without angering her significantly, but it was all downhill from here. She continued to disrespect my boundaries and push me romantically. Flirting occurred less commonly in private chats since I would shut it down, but in public spaces, she continued to flirt with me, and I felt pressured to allow it in order to avoid awkwardness in group settings.

Her romantic interest turned into obsession. She became fixated on my Tumblr posts and Discord statuses, accusing me of referencing her when this was seldom the case. Jealousy arose about my friendships with other people. She didn’t trust me to make my own decisions with my friendships and disrespected my decisions when I made them. There was also a huge increase in emotional manipulation and guiltbaiting. Whenever calm and rational criticism of her behavior was given to her, she would exaggerate and call herself a terrible person so that the criticism would be dropped in favor of coddling and comforting her. It was impossible to bring up serious issues without her playing the victim.

She also became increasingly hard to deal with in a team environment. I often felt as if I was being disciplined for not loving her in return. My ideas were constantly nitpicked and shot down. I was condescended to. I began to feel unwelcome in group spaces because of these behaviors. I felt like she was pushing me out of public spaces in hopes that I would flee to private ones, though I tried to avoid that as much as possible.

In November, a flip switched. The romantic harassment almost entirely vanished and all her interactions with me became unkind. In some ways, it was refreshing because the worst of the stalking subsided, but the hostile environment was not easy to deal with. I retreated from fandom in order to avoid it as much as possible.

Finally in December, my fandom commitments finally ended, giving me the ability to end my friendship with her. Right before this, she spoke negatively of me in some public ways. One of these actions I cannot name here because it would reveal her identity, but it spoke ill of a community that I oversee.

The worst, however, was a fanfic that she published several days before I cut her off. She projected her and I onto the main couple of the fic. I was cast as Gabriel and she was cast as Nathalie. The further I read, the more sickened I became as the references became more overt.

Near the end of the fic, Gabriel and Nathalie have a huge argument. I was shocked to find exact quotes from our September 17th video chat in the dialogue of the fic. They were large sections of our conversation. At the end of their argument, Gabriel admitted all wrong and they make amends. As a couple.

I felt ill reading this. I still feel ill thinking about it. I hate that one of the most traumatic conversations in my life still exists on the internet for anyone to read, twisted into a scene that is meant to be read as good and romantic. I am reminded of all the harassment that I endured and I hate that that is a feeling I now associate with one of my favorite ships. There are other creators involved as well whose work has now been tainted by these real-world associations that had no business being in a fanfic.

After this, I cut her out of my life entirely. I was considering less drastic options, but this was the last straw that I knew we could not come back from. I removed her from several of my social circles and blocked her on all social media.

Before I blocked her, I sent a letter explaining in explicit detail why I would be cutting her out of my life. Despite this, she has recently claimed that she was never given a reason.

And that’s where we are now. My life has been more peaceful since December and I have begun to come out of my shell. For a couple of months she left the situation alone and that was fine with me. I was happy to peacefully coexist as long as I wasn’t having to interact directly.

However, my friends began calling my attention to recent posts on her blog that implied I had destroyed her mental health. Some of them have since been deleted. While I was willing to let the first one slide, these posts have increased in frequency while pushing an increasingly false narrative. I don’t enjoy the implications that I did something horrible to her by not consenting to a relationship.

I’m sure she will disagree with my take on things, and that’s fine. If she disagrees with my reasons with cutting her off, that is her prerogative, but I cannot allow her to claim that I didn’t give any reasoning when she did receive it through multiple channels of communication.

And I hope I haven’t gone a step too far in revealing that this person was in love with me. I debated not including it, but I’ve realized it’s an unavoidable issue that is central to the entire situation. At the root of it, I was romantically pursued and harassed. I cannot defend my reasons for cutting her off without disclosing the base motivation for the majority of her actions.

So that’s my story. I’d ask those who read this to please refrain from engaging in any harassment. This post has not been made with the intention to hurt her, as can be evidenced from months of me holding my tongue. I really did try to let her preserve her dignity, but I was left with no other options after being smeared multiple times. My purpose here is transparency.

I genuinely do wish her well, for both our sakes. I really hope that this will finally end her obsession and allow her to move on. But whatever happens, I refuse to be a doormat any longer in this situation.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au - 9

Here is our very long Reunion chapter! Part 8 Part 7 

TW for blood, violence, mind control, and temporary memory loss

There were advantages to traveling alone.

He could spend as much or as little time in a town as he wanted- or at least his purse allowed. If he met a pack of wolves or a flock of birds or a herd of deer he could enjoy their company as long as he liked because no one was waiting for him.

He enjoyed the company of every manner of creature that would tolerate another’s company. He made friends and they cared for him and he did his best to care for them back and it was almost enough.

It was almost enough when the crowd beat their feet to his songs and cheered.

It was almost enough when the pack near Oxenfurt greeted him with open mouth kisses to confirm his wellbeing.

It was almost enough when the barn cats curled around him in the stable, rumbling their contentment.

Then winter came- as it always did. The birds flew south, the bears disappeared into their dens and the wolves grew too lean to feed what they all knew was an outsider.

They didn’t say as much. He didn’t wait around to hear it.

He knew what he was.

The animals all knew on some level. That on the edges he wasn’t quite right. Wasn’t quite the same as them.

So he did what he did every winter- because he’d never survive it on his own.

He answered the letters from court bidding him to play.

The Countess de Stael had requested him back this year and he was seriously tempted by the offer but he’d heard rumors of a mage at her court.

He could resist Yennefer’s call so whoever they were was unlikely to overwhelm him. But Yennefer had also never tried to.

Best to stay away. There were other offers.

He accepted a very generous offer from a southern family that lived on the coast. The sea called and maybe in the spring he’d walk out into its depths. Maybe he would love it so much he’d never walk the land again and the hollow space in his chest would fill with the sea.

“You are as beautiful and youthful as the stories say Master Jaskier.” His skin prickled at the young lady’s attention. They were alone in the dining hall, aside from the staff and numerous guards. “There are even rumor you’ve elven parentage. Tell me, have they any merit?”

Even people knew he wasn’t quite human.

“I’m afraid not Lady Nadia.” Where was the rest of her family? The war may have emptied the house somewhat but her mother, her unwed sister, or her brother who should have been far too young for service should have been there. “A good skin care routine can work wonders though. I could show you if you’d like? Not that much could be done to further enhance your radiance.”

He smiled brightly and sent her a quick wink. In her bedchambers there was a chance they’d be alone. He could ask what was wrong.

If not he would leave tonight. No amount of gold was worth his life. Every shape screamed at him to flee.

He hadn’t lived this long by not listening to them.

“Oh come now there must be more to it than that. There are rumors the White Wolf lent you his time in exchange for your company.”

He forced a brilliant laugh and took a long but shallow drink from his glass. “Such is not an ability of Witchers I’m afraid.” Even if it was Geralt wouldn’t share it with him. “But if its stories about The White Wolf you request I am more than capable of providing.”

“Firsthand accounts I hope?” Her voice coy but her shoulders ridged and her knuckles white where they gripped the spoon.

He stood and made his way to her, offering a hand as he quickly bowed. “Shall we retired to a more private local? I promise to tell you all my best stories about him.”

Her eyes met his and he saw the desperation there. A wolf who’d lost her pack. Her eyes flickered behind him and he knew. Knew this day ended in shackles.

He let the performer fall away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. She was so young. He’d seen countless people do far worse for far less.

“It’s alright dear. Make sure my lute gets back to Oxenfurt will you?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, tremors shaking her small frame. He pressed a kiss softly to her forehead. “I know what we do for the people we love.”

He stood as apologies cascaded from her turning to the guards. Really an unnecessary amount of guards. He knew he had a reputation for being slippery. For leaving empty cages and locked shackles in the night. But really. This was an unnecessary amount of soldiers.

He offered his wrists out to one of them with a smile.

“I do hope you’ll be returning her kin once this is over. I mean really? All this fanfare for a bard? Your higher ups must really need some music. Is the war truly so dull they’ve stooped to holding nobles hostage to kidnap innocent bards?”

One of the other soldiers walked over and snapped the shackles around his wrist. Dimeritium shackles.

“Expensive!” He whistled. No one had ever bothered with Dimeritium shackles before. He wondered if they’d work. “Someone thinks I’m a sorcerer! I must admit, I’m very flattered but my skill and good looks were a blessing of hard work and luck, not magic.” The man yanked the chain, pulling him along.

“I hope they keep their promise Nadia! Care of Oxenfurt University! Don’t forget!”

“Shut up.” The soldier demanded, accented heavily.

He jabbered at him in Nilfgaardian. “Oh you just expect a bard to shut up do you? Want that blessed silence? Well guess what? Never really gone in for that so you can just-“ There was a sharp pain on the back of his skull and the world went dark.

 The floor rocked under him and he suspected it wasn’t just the blow to the head. He was curled in a cage on the rocking seas. Hands still shackled. Feet bound in silver.

They were really overdoing it.

“He’s finally awake. Go get the sorcerer.” Someone whispered from behind him. He curled in tighter and ignored the growing thrumming of a song. It wasn’t as pleasant as Yennefer’s. Not as strong, even when he entered the room. It just made him feel gross.

“So sorry for the harsh treatment Master Jaskier.” The sorcerer stood over him. Voice assuring him that they were not sorry at all. “You’re rather known for being a difficult man to keep and we wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I could make your acquaintance.”

“Could have just asked. I’m sure Nadia would have been glad to show off her bard.”

“That was the plan but it sounded like you were getting cold feet for your performance.”

I would perform for you any time. It drawled, barely even convinced of the man’s merit itself.

“Did you let them go?” The man made a questioning noise. “Nadia’s family.”

“Why of course we did!” He lied. There was nothing to be done for that lie, so he choose to believe it. “And nothing bad will come to you either if you help us.”

The man crouched in front of him. He curled tighter hiding his face in his knees. “I’m sure.”

“Look at me Jaskier.” He curled tighter. Digging his hands into his legs.

Look at him.

Look at him.

Look at him.

It chanted over and over and over and he curled tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Look at me.”

There was power in those words and his body uncurled to lax. Knelt in front of him with hazy eyes as he beat at the magic manipulating his mind.

Their eyes met.

The man gasped.

He reached his hands through the bar, cupping his face. “I didn’t think there were any of you left.”

Cold dark sludge poured in. Cooling the distant memory of lightning in his veins. Covering the broken tapestry in his heart in something vicious and unpleasant. He did not move.

“Are you the last unclaimed familiar? There are so few of you in this world and you landed right in my lap. Destiny has truly blessed me today.”

The cold flooded him. Chilling every cell to the brittle bone. The hollow in his chest never filled. It Froze and never filled.

“You are mine now. I claim you.”

“Yours.” Someone said.

“Unlock the cage I want to see what he can do.” The others hesitated. He barked a command and they leapt to do as ordered. Do as ordered.

Doors unlocked somewhere and locks dropped free. The man bid him follow. Follow.

He followed.

There was sun beating on the deck but it didn’t warm him. The cold was there and the hollow and the man and that was all. The thick ichor sliding through his being.

“You need a better name familiar. You are no flower are you?” The man stroked his hair.

What are you then?

“Transform for me. I want to see what you can do. What you really are.”

What are you?

The cold was power. He was not helpless. He was not prey.

He spilled into a mountain cat. A predator. Claws long and sharp. Fur dense against the cold that filled him.

He was never enough of any one thing to truly be them.

Wings split from his back covered in long feathers. Claws into talons. Muzzle into beak. Size growing as more and more waves of cold chilled his mind.

“An Arch Griffin.” Awed a man. Hand on his beak. “The things we will do together.”

‘Griffins mate for life.’ A different man’s voice said to him. He didn’t know that voice. But he knew it was right.

His chest was hollow. His mate was gone.

He opened his beak. The cold man smiled.

He closed it and the man smiled no more.

There was blood and screaming and pain.

He collapsed in a clearing. Pulling out bolts that pierced his hide.

They bled. It joined the blood on his face and claws. It stuck his fur together in clumps. Feathers of his wings stuck up at the wrong angles.

He didn’t bother fixing it.

He flew in a random direction. When he was tired he slept. When he was hungry he ate.

Distantly he thought it was sheep’s blood in his mouth but he didn’t care if it wasn’t.

His mate was gone and the world would pay for it.

The smell of death drew him in.

Force knocked him from the sky.

The cold seeped from a crack jarred opened by it.

He shrieked scrambling out of the way of the hunter’s blade. He spit at him and the hunter rolled away quickly.

“Fucking arch Griffin. Not getting paid enough for this shit.” He said dodging around his claws landing a blow to his shoulder.

It burned with cold that rushed out with his blood. His beak snapped closed around the hunter’s white hair as he slipped away.

“How do you like that silver?”

He didn’t.

He leaped to the skies away from the hunter.

Force blast his wing and he spun into the dirt.

He’d broken that wing once. Someone had helped him then.

He spat at the Witcher, acid burning his throat on the way up.

“You’re not much of an arch griffin are you?” He said easily side stepping it. “No wonder your mate’s dead."

He roared talons and sharp beak seeking to tear him apart.

His mate wasn’t dead! His mate just-

The silver opened a fresh river of cold on his chest.

His paw slammed into the Witcher’s side hurling him backward.

Just didn’t want him.

The cold sludge slowed to a drip. His body was warm. Warm but cooling as red heat flowed from him.

“Getting too old for this.” Geralt cursed, standing. Preparing for another attack.

He didn’t move.

His mate didn’t want him. There was no blood to drain from the earth in retribution for their death. He just wasn’t wanted.

Geralt’s face twitched. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

He laid down on his side, stretched his neck long and tried to remember them. The mate who wouldn’t even greet him on the other side.

He remembered Gentle hands on a broken wing.

Geralt stepped forward, blade raised.

He remembered hands gently smoothing down long brown ears.

Geralt eyed his unmoving limbs, stepping around the blood crusted talons.

He remembered a hand in his on a sunny rock by a lake.

Geralt raised his sword above his ribs to plunge it in for one final blow.

He remembered a song. The notes escaping his beak one last time.

Toss a coin to your Witcher.

The sword didn’t come down.

Oh valley of plenty.

“Jaskier?”

That was his name wasn’t it? His chest trilled. Jaskier. A flower.

Maybe that’s what he should be. That way he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

The sword clattered against the dirt. Silver was delicate Geralt would never-

He raised his head to look and Geralt’s arms buried themselves in his thick mane.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said it again. “Jaskier.” Like a desperate prayer finally answered. “Jaskier.”

This form couldn’t purr technically but he didn’t let that stop him.

Geralt sobbed as the rumbles started. “I thought you were dead.”

How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Years?

What was time anyway?

He ran his beak through the tangled mess of Geralt’s hair. Blood chipping off his beak into it.

Geralt shoved his face away. “You need a bath.”

That felt very fair. Everything stuck together and was covered in grime and he stunk.

He nudged Geralt’s shoulder. So do you.

He huffed a laugh and collapsed into his side. “Fuck. I really needed that bounty.”

He screeched as if in the throes of death. Gagged dramatically and flopped into the dirt, sticking his tongue out to really sell it.

“Hm.” He considered him. “Somehow I doubt that would work.”

He gave them a look and then returned to being dead.

Geralt shoved him. He glared at him. Fuck off I’m dead.

Geralt shook his head. Hand running through his mane. The last of the cold sludge slowly sealing the silvered gashes near to closed.

The form was bowing in the center, like it might snap under him, even though he didn’t particularly mind staying in this form. It was a new sensation.

“Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” His hands clung tightly to his mane like he thought Jaskier might run away. Which was stupid. He’d never run from Geralt. Not really. Even in the forest as the bear. He hadn’t run from Geralt.

He rumbled his agreement. Seemed like a bit of an overreaction.

“I didn’t mean to bind you.” Geralt muttered into his coarse, sticky fur. “Believe that I never meant to bind you to this life Jaskier.”

He could feel the form splintering under him. He purred louder. Bound. He wasn’t the one Geralt had wished for. Wasn’t the child of surprise accidentally claimed.

He was Jaskier. He’d chosen this life. He’d loved it. Even when it was awful he’d chosen to love it.

He rubbed his, frankly disgusting, – how did he let himself get so disgusting? - face against Geralt’s back. Soothingly. He hoped.

“I never meant to bind you to me.”

The form cracked out from under him. Geralt’s knees hit the ground as his supporting Griffin shifted into a bard in his arms.

Geralt squeezed him to his chest. “I didn’t know any other way to break it. I got to the bottom and you were gone. Really gone. I knew I’d never see you again. Because you only stayed-“

He reached his blood crusted hand to Geralt’s face – tried very hard not to remember whose or what’s blood it might have been – and cupped the thick stubble of his jaw cutting him off. “Because I wanted to.”

“Geralt that’s why I stayed. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with you. We’re not fucking bound by magic.”

“Yennefer said-”

“Yennefer doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”

Geralt glared at him and he buried his face in Geralt’s armor to avoid it.

Yennefer knew what she was talking about.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Yennefer said you’re drawn to magic. That you. Were bound to mine. I swear I never meant to.”

“Geralt.” Geralt wouldn’t look at him, eyes locked on the horizon even as his arms crushed him in his embrace. “Geralt look at me.”

Geralt allowed his head to be turned to look at him. He knew he must look terrible. Hair long and matted. Coated in grime and blood and who knows what else. Fresh blood still dripping down his chest.

There was a tapestry of tiny threads, only made strong by how they were tightly woven together.

There was a question forced from his mouth once. Long ago. Because he wanted to stay by Geralt’s side.

“Geralt you did not bind yourself to me. I bound myself to you. Because I never wanted to leave your side.”

“You left my side all the time.” He tried to jest. Face soft with sadness and longing.

“And I always found my way back didn’t I?” He leaned up. Tried to get closer to Geralt’s face. He wanted to be close in every way.

“You did.” He agreed before his face shuttered closed in pain. “But magic. Yennefer said it could compel you to do anything. Love anyone if it was strong enough.”

“Geralt, dear heart?” Geralt’s embrace didn’t let him close enough to his face, so he settled for burying his face in the junction of his shoulder. “I think I bit a man’s head off for trying to use magic to make me love him. And he was far stronger than you. Fuck Geralt you don’t even set off the singing.”

“Singing?” Geralt shook his head slightly before burrowing into the muck of his hair. “Thought you abhorred violence.”

“I do and once we wash this off me I’m going to try very hard never to think about it again.” He was honestly feeling a bit nauseous from even mentioning it. The way his-

Ugh. Don’t. Don’t think about it.

“You do smell awful.” He buried his nose deeper. “Absolutely disgusting.”

“Well I feel even worse so can we maybe go get me a hot bath? I’ll tell them you saved me from the griffin and killed it.”

“With how you look right now they might actually believe it.”

“Hm.” He agreed trying to refill the space Geralt once resided with his scent. With the warmth under his fingers and the too tight embrace. “Geralt I’m sorry.”

“You owe me no apologies Jaskier.” Geralt continued his nuzzled wandering through his hair.

“I’m sorry for binding you to me. For” For the child of surprise. For the djinn. For everything. “For staying when you didn’t want me.”

His mate was gone. Not dead. Just didn’t want him.

“Jaskier I didn’t want you to go.” Geralt’s grip crushed the air from his chest before easing only slightly. “I just didn’t want you to have to stay.”

Tear tracks cleared clean creaks down his face and he turned up towards Geralt. Forced an arm free to turn Geralt face to his. “Can I stay? I want to stay.”

He nodded. “Please.”

Geralt relaxed his grip enough to press their foreheads together. “Please.” He said again.

“What do you want me to be?”

Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the musically magical tint he had missed the first time. Or maybe just recognizing the words from all those years ago.

“Jaskier.” He hummed. “I want you to always be Jaskier, no matter the form you take.”

He closed his eyes enjoying the tapestry reweaving itself over the hollow in his chest.

He slowly opened his eyes to Geralt’s soft smile.

His mate wanted him.

He slowly angled his face, closed his eyes, and kissed him. Gently kissed his mate.

He eventually withdrew just a breath. Taking in his mates softly closed eyes and serene face.

His mate. The griffin trilled.

His mate? Oh fucking instincts he’d just kissed Geralt- not even for the first time- because of his inhuman instincts.

And his mate?

His face and neck and ears went hot with blood. Geralt eased his eyes open and chuckled, resuming his scenting nuzzle now over his jaw and face. “I have something of yours.”

“Hm?” He squeaked as Geralt’s lips ran over the pulse of his neck.

“You’ll have to explain to the university I didn’t steal it next time your there of course.”

His lute?

“My lute? She’s safe?” He begged of him.

Geralt’s eyes turned up to him and he nodded before resuming his self-appointed task of scenting every inch of his grimy neck.

“Well then you definitely did steal her because I said care of Oxenfurt not Geralt of Rivia who wouldn’t know proper lute maintenance if his best friend spent two decades explaining and demonstrating it to him.”

“Would you rather I’d left it? You’d have to wait until spring to play it again.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we’re going to Kaer Morhen.” He buried his nose in the crook of his neck and took a long drag of his scent before finally standing them up. “Can you walk? There’s someone you need to meet.”

He leaned against Geralt as the dizziness of standing slowly subsided. “I think so.” He assured.

“If you want me to carry you-“

“I want to stay human a little longer.” He interjected. It had been so long. It felt like it had been so long.

He smirked cheekily. “Then I can. You’re not heavy.”

“Oh.” He leaned on Geralt for a few moments more. “Just an arm for now. I want to walk.”

Geralt nodded hooking an arm under his.

“So who’s this mystery person I need to meet?”

Geralt smiled, leaned over and told him.

[mordoriscalling]

Life (of) Surprise (3/5)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). Warnings: Jaskier and Geralt have a serious argument in this one.

(Part 1) (Part 2) 

III - A Surprise Realisation 

Geralt never thought he’d get married again, much less to a man. Leave alone a man like Jaskier, who is loud, bright, and charismatic; unlike Geralt in so many aspects that by all means, their relationship shouldn’t work as well as it does.  

He’s a divorcee. His previous relationships didn’t last. Rationally, he knows he should’ve been more cautious, yet when Jaskier got down on one knee that April morning, Geralt found himself unable to say no. He was so tired that day, but that wasn’t the reason he said yes. He agreed to marry Jaskier because back then – as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes, blue like the cloudless sky above them – he realised that it seemed right.

Jaskier’s always accepted Geralt the way he is, with all his problems and mistakes. Jaskier is both safety and adventure. He’s trustworthy and unpredictable; a fascinating contradiction that Geralt could see himself exploring for the rest of his life.

Or so he thought.

“Eight months,” Geralt grits out, his emotions balancing at the edge of fury.

Jaskier says nothing, his eyes cast downwards, standing in the middle of the room with the air of a puppy about to be kicked.

“We’ve been engaged for eight fucking months,” Geralt growls, “and you’re only telling me this now?”

“I wanted to come clean,” Jaskier answers weakly. His voice doesn’t waver.

The steadiness of his voice shouldn’t be surprising, though. Jaskier’s a singer. A performer. A very good one. Geralt didn’t have an issue with that before. The only problem with Jaskier that Geralt’s ever truly had it that Jaskier can be extremely inconsiderate at times.

Now, the former and the latter seem to have merged into something that Geralt isn’t sure he can forgive.

“You didn’t think about doing that earlier?” he asks.

It’s New Year’s Eve. They’re in Jaskier’s childhood bedroom, where they’re to sleep for the night. Downstairs, a party is about to begin, with both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s family and closest friends in attendance. Jaskier’s parents, Wanda and Alfred. Rozalia and Silvio, Amelia with Nasir and their daughter. Triss, Essi and Eskel. Aiden and Lambert. Vesemir, Yennefer, Ciri, Dara.

Geralt suspects that everyone is waiting in the dining room already. Yet, this is the moment that Jaskier chose to tell him about the circumstances of their engagement.

“I didn’t have the courage,” Jaskier replies, “I was afraid you’d take it the wrong way.”

“Have the fuck am I supposed to take it any other way?!” Geralt barks, making Jaskier flinch. “You told your family that we’d marry before you asked me to marry you.”

It’s dark outside the tall windows. The only source of light in the room is the chandelier above Jaskier’s head, hanging down from the high ceiling. The lamps cast Jaskier in a warm glow, and to Geralt, it seems as if he saw his fiancé for the first time. There’s a stubborn set to Jaskier’s jaw as he still refuses to look at nowhere but the wooden floor.

“You did that for what?” Geralt demands, “So that you look good in front of your family? Is... us some kind of fucking performance for you? Have you been pretending from the –”

“No,” Jaskier cuts in. His gaze is finally on Geralt, and he appears genuinely aghast at the notion. “The only pretending I’ve ever done is lying to myself that our engagement was for real the whole time! I told everyone that we’d marry because I wished it so badly to be true! I wanted it to happen, so I said something that would force me to make it happen.”

The confession would be heart-warming if not for the last sentence, which makes Geralt’s blood run cold. He walks up to Jaskier slowly, staring him down, trying to see through the (distracting, deceptive) blue of his eyes.

“You would’ve made it happen?” he murmurs, his emotions treading the dangerous line again, “If I’d said no, would you have persisted? Manipulated me, as you did with the spring wedding?”

A broken noise escapes Jaskier’s lips. “That wasn’t my intention! I’m so sorry that I made you feel this way. Please forgive me, I never meant it like that–”

“I’m starting to doubt every word you say,” Geralt interrupts, because now their nearly three years together feel fake.

Jaskier takes a step back, hurt written all over his features. Tears well up in his eyes as he exclaims, “I’m not lying! I’m not lying when I say that you’re the only one that I want to marry.”

Geralt doesn’t want to hear it. He moves to walk away but Jaskier grabs him by the arm. “Dammit Jaskier,” he growls, “don’t–”

“Listen to me,” Jaskier says, insistent.

 Geralt tries not to, looks away to distance himself, but Jaskier’s voice is that of a siren – arresting and irresistible, powerful even when hushed.

“I never thought that I’d settle down. I fell in love too easily. One day a woman from the bar would have my heart, and then next it would be a guy at the bus stop. Commitment wasn’t my thing.”

Geralt scowls, about to ask how that information is supposed to help in the current situation, but Jaskier speaks first.

“But then, then I met someone who’s so deeply fascinating that I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s been through so much and yet he’s nothing but kind and considerate. He has so much presence but he rarely uses it to his advantage. He feels so much and yet he shows nothing. He...” Jaskier chuckles, the sound somehow both warm and sad. “He’s honest with me and calls me out on my mistakes, challenging me to be better. Thanks to him, I don’t stop learning. With him, it seems like... like we’re writing a gripping book. A... a story I want to go on and on.”

A story without an ending may not be a happy one, Geralt muses. He says nothing, though, still looking away, and Jaskier speaks up again.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted you to stay, but perhaps–” he cuts himself off, releasing out a shaky sigh. He lets go of Geralt’s arm at least and then utters, “Perhaps I love you too much. Maybe it’s not healthy, after all.”

Pain seeps through every syllable as Jaskier says this. Geralt has to swallow hard because that, that seems so wrong. How can it not be healthy when the only time they truly breathe – truly relax and let go – is as they are around each other?

Geralt stands frozen, listening to Jaskier’s sniffs, and tries to process all that he’s heard. He has to fight his fervent want to believe Jaskier’s loving words. He wishes it to be true, yet the recent revelation’s stained all they’ve been through with the ugly thought that Geralt’s feelings – his love – have just been a fucking box to tick.

The sheer hurt of it settles somewhere deep within him, clawing a hole in his chest, wrenching, pulling all the air out of his lungs. He can’t stand being next to Jaskier anymore and escapes to the bathroom, which is adjacent to the bedroom.

The water is cool as Geralt splashes it all over his face. He tries to take his emotions under control, especially that anger raises within him once more. He’s a moment away from doing some real damage to the furniture.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to calm down. He assumes that enough time passes for Jaskier to decide to go downstairs without him, which is the only wish he has right now. Yet, as he emerges from the bathroom, it (unsurprisingly) turns out that he can't have what he wants – Jaskier sits there, at the edge of the large bed, his face hidden in his hands. As he hears Geralt approach, he raises his head revealing his dishevelled hair and red-rimmed eyes.

He’s a picture of misery and Geralt heart lurches in sympathy, in a ridiculous need to comfort his fiancé, despite his anger.

They stay like that, staring at each other for a few unbearable moments of heavy, choking silence, until Geralt finally breaks it.

“Dinner must’ve started by now,” he says, “We should go.”

 A rasped “okay” is all the answer Jaskier gives.

They don’t pretend that everything is all right. Everybody quickly notices the tension between them and the dinner is a painful affair at the beginning. It’s a miracle that everyone’s managed to gather here today, though. The two families seem determined to make the best of it and the initial awkwardness soon passes. Conversations start flowing and after some time, everyone is getting along well enough for the party not to be torturous.

When dinner is finished, Jaskier’s parents invite them to the living room. There, a piano awaits, and Jaskier launches into a short performance that leaves everyone spell-bound, including Geralt, even though it hurts.

It hurts to watch Jaskier’s fingers dance over the keys, knowing the way in which those beautiful hands touch his body. It hurts to see the tempting curve of Jaskier’s neck, knowing how Jaskier always gasps when he kisses it. It hurts to watch Jaskier shine because he believed that he had a part of Jaskier’s light to himself.

And yet. Now, there’s the ugly thought at the back of his head that it wasn’t true. Jaskier did claim it was.

And yet.

The moment the performance ends, Geralt decides to survive by sticking with Silvio. Rozalia’s husband is talkative but what he loves chattering about the most is the cats and dogs he’s fostering with his wife. He shows Geralt pictures and videos, which improves Geralt’s mood slightly.

After Triss and Nasir steal Silvio away, Geralt is left alone, sitting in the corner of the room with his glass of wine. On instinct, his eyes search for his daughter. He finds her talking to Jaskier’s sister and frowns.

He loves Ciri more than life itself but he’s aware that she’s can be a right brat. He’s also familiar with Amelia and Rozalia enough to know that they’re very likely to be charmed by Cirilla’s vicious streak. Jaskier seems to know it too, and he appears genuinely terrified as he watches his sisters chat with Ciri, the three smiling mysteriously.

Then, Yennefer joins them, and Geralt is... apprehensive.

The party goes on. Some people, like his brothers, leave Geralt in peace. Others, such as Jaskier’s parents, insist on speaking to him. He picks his way through the, admittedly polite and pleasant, conversations, until no one wants to talk to him.

All the while, his gaze strays to Jaskier. Geralt watches him joke with Essi and Vesemir, laugh at something Lambert and Eskel are saying, take his niece into his arms and coo at her with Aiden by his side.

As Geralt observes Jaskier hold little Zofia and smile at her lovingly while Aiden makes funny faces at her, he suddenly comes to understand how tightly Jaskier has managed to weave himself in between all the threads that make Geralt’s life. All his family know Jaskier and accept him. Most of them are fond of him, or downright adore him. Geralt’s thoughts and memories of the sea are mingled with Jaskier’s songs. He doesn’t miss being at sea as much as he feared in large part due to Jaskier engaging him in his own life. Jaskier knows him, like a true friend does.

Removing him from the tapestry would leave a jagged hole, and Geralt realises that it’s not something he’d ever want. After all, he doesn’t have a particular place where he belongs. His home is where his loved ones are.

And he loves Jaskier so.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Jaskier approaches him for the first time since the argument. Geralt still sits on the couch without any company as Jaskier stands before him, clearly putting up a happy face.

“I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood,” he remarks, his cheerfulness falling flat,

Geralt rolls his eyes, irritated. “I’m here to drink alone,” he grunts.  

Jaskier, of course, refuses to take the hint and sits down beside him. Before Geralt can protest it, though, loud giggles catch his attention. He looks at the source of the sound and sees Ciri and Dara laughing at something on their phones (a meme, Geralt assumes). Joy at seeing his daughter’s happiness fill him but then Jaskier’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“If you say that you don’t believe me,” he says, “what must Dara think?”

Geralt looks at him sharply and immediately understands the sadness in his eyes. He’s aware of how much Jaskier wants Dara to know that all he’s done to help the boy – putting his career on hold to care for him, providing for him, going to therapy with him – are driven by genuine willingness to help, not pity or charity.

“Maybe I’m not good at...” Jaskier goes on, a wry smile twisting his lips, “Well. This whole... guardian thing.”

“You are,” Geralt replies.

It is true. Dara agreed to say with Jaskier eight months ago. The boy is still grieving and struggling but Jaskier has been supporting him through it with surprisingly few missteps.

“Thank you,” Jaskier answers, uncharismatically timid.“I... Geralt,” he begins, his tone sombre.

Geralt tenses and waits. His free hand, the one not holding the wine glass, clenches into a fist.  

“I’m sorry for withholding the truth from you for so long, I was...” Jaskier swallows. “Stupid. It was wrong of me, and I... I promise it won’t happen again.”

He looks away and considers, even though there isn’t much to wonder about. There’s no coming back from how important Jaskier is to him, for better or for worse. His hurt is far from mended but Geralt nods. Jaskier heaves a sigh and lays his hand atop Geralt clenched fist.

“Will you stay?” Jaskier murmurs.

A memory strikes him – of how Jaskier asked him the same thing almost three years ago as they stood outside this very house.

In the background, the countdown begins. Geralt unclenches his fist and takes Jaskier’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Jaskier squeezes back and the New Year starts.

***

A/N: the chapter count went up to 5 because I wanted to split ch3 into two smaller parts. Also, you can also read this fic on AO3. 

[morningflames]

a word of warning

well here’s a post i never thought i’d be making

it’s come to my attention that a Certain Someone is planning on making a comeback to WrA soon and it fills me with nothing short of dread. i spent the day yesterday warning people he terrorized and manipulated that this was happening. you know it’s bad when there’s a literal network of people who share an abuser that have remained in contact for years in the event this happened again.

i am not going to lie and say that making this post does not terrify me but i cannot in good conscience sit back and let him worm his way into the rp scene again and do what he did to me and at least half a dozen others all over again.

to summarize: tarcanus aka tarcanus frostborne is a manipulative, emotionally abusive and predatory individual that should be avoided at all costs.

i am the player behind lyrinel, a former officer of his and someone who was on the receiving end of nearly a years worth of abuse and manipulation. my experiences pale in comparison to those of others who dealt with him and came forward to me after i left his guild, and i cannot speak for anyone who does not feel comfortable coming forward. if you do want to let your voice be heard, feel free to reblog and add your own anecdotes.

my story below the cut.

tw: manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, coercion, grooming

i first joined coram populo in early 2014 after my best friend and fellow survivor (i will refer to her by her character’s name of thradia from here on out) joined the raid team in december of the previous year. we were both just looking for a social place to park our characters and maybe start role playing again, as we hadn’t had a guild or dedicated rp group in a while. things were fine and friendly for the first couple of months, though it’s worth noting that a large part of the office corps had just left or was in the process of leaving when thradia and i joined. we were both 18 at the time.

i made the mistake of reaching out to tarc in the spring, when i noticed him posting to his tumblr about how busy he was. i offered to be an IC assistant of sorts to his character and he was more than happy to toss me into an absolute whirlwind. we still didn’t know much about each other, but in the span of a couple weeks we went from casual contact in guild chat to immensely long (sometimes between 10 and 12 hours) skype calls, constant DMing, and an almost uninterrupted stream of conversation. i was struggling to finish high school at this time (spoiler: i failed to graduate) and found myself suddenly caught in an all-consuming relationship with this man and his guild. from the moment i woke up to the moment i finally hung up and crawled into bed, my time was taken up by tarc and the guild and the game.

i was promoted to officer less than five months after joining the guild. this was overwhelming for a number of reasons, chief among them being the fact that i had never been an officer in a guild like this before and i was very quickly escalated to tarc’s “inner circle.” this was a circle that he evidently didn’t even include his most senior officers in, as he didn’t seem to communicate with them to the extent or abundance that he did with me - and later, when she was ALSO promoted to officer, thradia. 

within a few weeks i found myself at the center of dozens of micro-confrontations and venting from tarc about other members of the guild, raid team, and even fellow officers. every time, i would tell him he needed to take it to his co-gm and talk it through with her. she, like him, was a grown woman with a lot more experience and better people skills than me, a teenager barely out of high school, but tarc insisted on beating me over the head with his frustrations and then proceeding to guilt me and tell me i was a terrible friend when i didn’t agree with him or expressed i was uncomfortable being in the center of a vent session that i felt was unwarranted. 

tarc was never wrong. he did not apologize. the words “i’m sorry” did not exist in his vocabulary, and if they did, they were almost always followed up with the word “but.” constantly he would be sending multiple messages to me or thradia while we were running events and raids for the guild, ranting about a few particular members that he disliked at the time regardless of how we felt about said members. thradia and i would both be reduced to tears and/or anxiety attacks by his outbursts that all but demanded we take his side even if we didn’t. his feelings and circumstances were paramount. everyone else’s were just inconveniences. 

tarc was always the victim. no matter what was going on, no matter who had instigated whatever vein of conversation we were on that had gone awry, he had a way of making you feel like utter shit until you grovelled for his forgiveness, which he rarely gave. instead he would move on without giving any closure or allowing you to discuss your feelings at length. if you tried, you were the insensitive one who he couldn’t go to with his “unfiltered emotions,” which was the entire purpose of his inner circle to hear him say it. i was not allowed to just be his friend or just be an officer, i had to be both and neither at the same time, and it still was not the right course of action. nothing ever was.

tarc was openly manipulative and antagonistic, always citing it as an “inside joke” when called on it. i opened up to him once about my father’s alcoholism and how i was uncomfortable with alcohol culture and being around drunk people. regardless, he would constantly call while drunk (or maybe he was pretending to be to get a rise out of me, i honestly do not know what was genuine and what was put on with him) and make me stay on the call with him for hours. when he was (allegedly) diagnosed with an inability to process certain alcohols that could be life threatening, he continued to drink (or claimed he was drinking) dangerous amounts, which lead to me begging him to stop as i feared for his life. one of the worst anxiety attacks i have ever had was over him endangering his health and me believing i was going to see a friend die. he knew how much this upset me and he did not stop. he held me as a captive audience to his self destruction (or the playacting of it) and let me cry and beg and plead with him to take care of himself.

tarc loves to promote a clean, “family friendly” persona online. he will go on and on about the positive atmosphere his guild provides and how progress and accepting he and his “safe spaces” are. as soon as you are inducted to his inner circle, however, you learn otherwise. he will gladly engage in sexually charged conversation with you, even if you are ten years younger than him as thradia and i were. we were both legal adults, yes, but just barely. i can’t count the inappropriate remarks and jokes made about us, our friends, and even minors all in the spirit of joking “what if” conversation. he has a history of making young LGBT+ people uncomfortable, making their sexualities and identities about him and how he can relate to them. 

tarc was the most two-faced and divisive guild leader i’ve ever seen. he would rant to me mercilessly about wanting to kick one of the junior officers and raid team members in private while never saying a word to their face or bringing it up with the co-gm. he would start schisms between people, telling each what they wanted to hear and encouraging both parties not to confront each other about it, allowing the resentment and distrust to grow as he fanned the flames on both sides. he wanted people to stay in the guild and continue to basically work for him while also putting him above anyone else in their friend circles. he told straight up lies to thradia and i, claiming one of us had said things about the other that we never did, driving a wedge and distrust between us.

tarc treats his guild(s) like a business. he is entirely capitalist-minded even in an MMORPG that people play for fun, churning out “content” and keeping up appearances like a machine. he treats his officers and guild members like employees, not people. any time irl would demand attention away from the game, forcing someone to miss or cancel an event, he would subtly guilt them about it until they apologized, even if it was a dire situation or a family emergency. 

when tarc wanted to start a wow roleplaying podcast, he approached me about cohosting. he wanted a female voice, and since i was out of school and had no job lined up due to not graduating i was the perfect candidate. i came on to narrate and research the lore segment of the looking for roleplay podcast, which was little more than me paraphrasing a wowwiki article, but i was held to a “professional” standard. i had to have my research done by a certain day, my recording done in advance, etc. 

the podcast was a spot of contention for several reasons, one being the mysterious emails tarc would allegedly receive about it. the podcast had a shared email account that all three of us could access and look at, but tarc claimed that people sent emails directly to him since “everything’s under his email.” he would use these strawman emails as indirect criticism of turwinkle and i, reading them aloud or typing up what they supposedly said but NEVER producing a real screenshot or address to verify them. i’m convinced he only did this as a way to make turwinkle and i feel badly and work harder “for the listeners” to appease things tarc didn’t like about our segments. he also insinuated he got inappropriate emails about me specifically at this account but, again, i was never allowed to see them with my own eyes, just hear about them secondhand, which is why i believe they did not exist.

around this time, tarc began recording conversations without mine or thradias consent. he would start recording random sections of calls and taunt us, playing back out-of-context lines and joking that he would make “podcast commercials” out of them. they were often embarrassing, personal, or just wildly out of context lines that we didn’t want played to the public, and i heard only a fraction of what he possibly recorded of me. i have no idea what kind of material he has of me and thradia that was recorded without us knowing or consenting. it felt like blackmail. it still does.

i internalized all of this. i thought this was normal. i thought he was an excellent guild leader and a role model for leadership. i had begun to treat world of fucking warcraft like a goddamn job and i thought that was fine. my life revolved around coddling and entertaining him, socializing and promoting and recruiting for the guild, raiding, running pvp entirely on my own, keeping up IC connections and attending events, recording for the podcast, all of it. i ate, breathed, and slept wow and coram. it was insane. i had been talked into having no boundaries for myself and my time, and any time i tried to correct that and build a boundary i was attacked for it until i backed down. i have never felt worse about myself than i did while i was in this guild. i trusted no one. i was worn thin.

i finally had enough early 2015. at this point this man was trying to get me to come live with him hundreds of miles from my family so that i could attend a technical school in his area. i am still 18. he was 28. i had been trying to step down from my position as an officer, citing if i was going to be LIVING WITH HIM that it was going to give me an unfair bias in my standing in the guild. this set him all the way off. he was planning a trip to atlantic city for me, himself, and thradia, who i had a ticket to visit for my birthday. he was getting frantic because he had been pursuing thradia for months, and i was no longer cooperating. 

when i threw this wrench in everything, our relationship devolved in the span of a few hours. within the day i left the guild on all of my characters and pulled myself out of all of his projects. within the month i had frantically faction changed several characters and eventually unsubscribed from the game for two years because i lived in fear of him. he had always alluded to “knowing people” who could hack and track IP addresses and kept tabs on everyone who visited his blogs and websites. i didn’t know what i thought he was going to do - all i knew was his thinly veiled brags and threats were at the forefront of my mind. i have played this game since 2006, but for the first time in my life i couldn’t enjoy it out of fear and exhaustion caused by him. he had ruined my favorite game in less than a year and made me paranoid about my entire online presence, to the point where this blog was abandoned for months before i turned it into what it is today. 

and the thing is, tarc’s not a creepy or abrasive guy when you first meet him. he’s funny and charismatic and outgoing. he loves to tell you about his world travels and show you pictures of him petting baby tigers at rescues in southeast asia and go on about these crazy winnings he would have in vegas. he’s larger than life - at least online. he came to visit me twice in the year that we knew each other. the first time was also the first time i had ever met thradia in person, and we had been friends for six years at that point. he has met my family, and that of several other members (both my age and older). no one ever questions why he’s there. no one ever thought it was odd that for a week he hung out with three teenage girls exclusively. 

this horrifies me to this day. 

thradia and i are still best friends. we compared notes and were sickened at how we were played against each other. slowly, i returned to the game. i reached out to people who had left or been on their way out when i first joined the guild, curious to see if there was a common thread. there was. everyone i spoke with had similar stories: being made to feel like shit, nothing they ever did for the guild was enough, they weren’t allowed to miss events or raids no matter what the reason, they were questioned and joked about inappropriately and made to feel uncomfortable and preyed upon, etc. i was not the only one. thradia was not the only one. at least half a dozen other former members and/or officers had these stories, and tarc just kept getting away with it.

he cannot keep getting away with it.

i am being open with this for the first time in six years because i don’t want to see it happen again. because i don’t want to know that, had i said something sooner, more people could have been protected. i was 18 when this was going on. i had no real world experience. i had no standard for how i should be treated, much less by someone almost ten years my senior and who claimed to be my friend. but he knew better. he should have had boundaries and space and lines he refused to cross. he did not. he crippled my trust in people for a very long time. i have only become comfortable playing wow on horde side again in the past year or so. i finally stopped looking over my shoulder, /who’ing him and his guild, avoiding rp hubs. but now i feel like i can’t do that anymore. the safety i have worked so hard to achieve for myself is now threatened.

i understand my experiences are mild in comparison to what some offenders on this server have done. but at the end of the day, this year was the worst year of my life. to this day, the skype ringtone literally triggers me because i associated it with him and his endless calls that i never knew what to expect from or how to get out of. i can’t look at certain parts of the game without feeling fear. for months i held my breath going online or logging into wow because i was waiting for him to pop up and start accusing me of things or trying to guilt me into coming back.

tarc ran coram populo, a guild that, as far as i know, still staggers along with a few members who can’t be bothered to leave. whether or not he’s planning to return there, i don’t know. he organizes and runs (from what i can tell) the azerothian trade federation (whatever the fuck that is). i don’t know what his plans are. i don’t know what his online presence looks or will look like when he comes crawling back. but i beseech you, do not give him the time of day. do not give him a platform, no matter how nice and “woke” he makes himself out to be. he lures you in with humanist ideals and then sucks the absolute life out of you- and that’s if he doesn’t want to pressure you into a relationship on top of it.

to tarc: if somehow you’re reading this, stay away from me. keep my name out of your mouth. i do not want an apology and a string of half-assed, gaslighting excuses. i have records of past conversations. i have screenshots. i know what you fucking did to me and to my friends. i do not want you back. i do not want you here. i do not want to share space with you. i want you to go away and never come back. 

you alone made it so hard to trust myself and other people. thradia and i both have had to seek therapy due to you. and now, you have the audacity to come riding back into the scene on a white horse, being self righteous about abuse and predatory behavior online, and have the utter gall to condemn behaviors you yourself emulated without apology or second thought. i know you think you’re a good guy. that’s what makes you so fucking dangerous. you genuinely don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, and if you do, you’ve buried it and squirreled it away and have covered it up to the point where you can turn any accusation back on the claimant. 

do not attempt to contact me. do not try to threaten or appease me. go back where you were. i am finally at home again, and you will not take that from me. go. away.

[caspia-writes]

Summer of Whump #8 — Allergies

Summary: A bad case of hay fever turns an idyllic day at the park into a lover's quarrel.

A/N: Right, this whole 'Summer of Whump' thing exists. Oops. I might try to do a few more before the month's over. Or just be that weirdo who takes the 'summer' part literally and writes some stuff on the topic after the official end of the event. Haven't decided. Also: Aromantic with no relationship experience tries to write two lovers having a spat. It probably goes about as well as you'd expect.

Content warnings: None...?

This entire situation was infuriating. Of course it was; hay fever was enough to drive a man mad on the best of days. But today was even worse than most of the other ones Ernst had been tasked with enduring as of late.

The problem was that today was the first time in several weeks he’d been able to set aside an afternoon to enjoy Ilse’s company. So what if she’d wanted to sit in a park? The weather was nice enough. He should’ve been able to tolerate it, for a few hours at least, instead of becoming a weepy mess that was one wrong breath from dissolving into catarrhal paroxysms. And the minute that he let on that he wasn’t feeling entirely well, even if he had every reason to believe it was hay fever and not a head-cold or the beginnings of influenza, would be the minute that Ilse demanded he go home and rest in bed, alone.

Perhaps this wouldn’t have been so bad, or at least easier to not mention, if Ilse had been in her usual talkative mood. Most of the times they saw each other, Ernst wondered if Ilse wouldn’t prefer he kept quiet entirely and simply listened to whatever struggles she’d encountered lately. Before there had always been something—a particular point of etiquette that she kept stumbling on, difficulty with her embroidery, a snide remark another woman had made to her at the women’s school. But it seemed that despite having had weeks to accumulate such complaints, Ilse had somehow happened upon an occasion where she had nothing to talk about.

Which, unfortunately, meant she would need to invent a topic.

Even more unfortunately, that topic had come to be Ernst. More specifically, his strange behavior.

“You’re quiet today,” Ilse said. She paused a moment, then added, “Quieter than usual, I mean.”

Ernst nodded. That was hardly a revelation to him. It’d been quite intentional; if he didn’t speak or make any noise, he might not cough and it wouldn’t be so apparent that his nose was clogged. So long as he kept quiet, Ilse wouldn’t hear the grating hoarseness to his voice either. Maybe she wouldn’t think he was sick.

“So what’s bothering you?” She plucked a daffodil and began twirling it between her fingers. “Did someone tease you about your accent again? I told you, you shouldn’t listen to them. For one, I like your accent.”

He couldn’t help it. Ernst immediately looked over at Ilse. He’d spent hours upon hours locked in freezing classrooms, well after every other pupil had left, being screamed at for his inability to stop trilling his r’s, to fully pronounce his vowels instead of swallowing or chopping them–and Ilse didn’t mind the accent? She... liked it, even? Of course she couldn’t be serious, no one could ever mean that sort of sentiment, but the very idea that someone found it nice to listen to was intoxicating.

That his eyes were brimming with tears didn’t occur to Ernst until the yellow daffodil fell back to the ground and Ilse’s hand found its way to his cheek. By then it was too late for Ernst to do anything to about it except look away and wait for the inevitable.

“You’re... you’re crying,” Ilse whispered. “Because—is it because I like your accent? That’s all it takes for you?”

Well, no. It wasn’t. Not exactly. But it still meant more than she knew.

And now there were a thousand things Ernst wanted to say, to ask. That this really was the first time someone, anyone, had claimed to like his accent. A brief recounting of how much he’d suffered over it. If she was serious that she liked it. How she could find any appeal in the speech of a bored, monotone man with a potato in his mouth. If, maybe, she could say that again, just so he could be sure he heard her correctly.

That he was sure now, if he’d doubted before, that he loved her. And could he please kiss her?

All the things Ernst wanted to say, but instead he sneezed.

Not only that, but he sneezed directly in Ilse’s face.

Her reaction was almost as quick as the sneeze had been. She recoiled and let out a shrill “Really?!” as she began wiping her face on her sleeves. Ernst would’ve said something, apologized at least, if he hadn’t been busy still sneezing into his hands and trying to keep his glasses from falling off.

By the time he managed to get a breath in and even consider saying something, Ilse was glaring at him. Not the glare he’d gotten before when he’d made an especially bad pun or purposely made his accent even thicker than it was already, but an ice-cold glare that left very little doubt as to the direction the conversation was headed.

Out of desperation as much as anything, Ernst pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and began dabbing Ilse’s face. “It’s only hay fever. You can’t catch it, I promise. It isn’t a cold—I’m not sick.”

“Ernst,” she huffed. He only got a few more dabs in before Ilse scowled and pushed his hand away from her face. “Really now. We’re in Altenstadt, not on a farm. There’s not enough hay around here for you to get sick from it.”

“It’s the damned trees!” Ernst ducked his face into his handkerchief to sneeze a few more times. Not the most convincing addition to his argument, he had to admit, but he wasn’t going to give up yet. “The trees give me hay fever. Not hay. I’m not sick!”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Ilse spat. “Hay doesn’t grow on trees, Ernst. You have a cold, and now so do I. If you knew you were sick, why didn’t you say that earlier and go home?”

“I...”

What was he supposed to say? If he couldn’t blame this on his hay fever, the best he could try for was a terrible head-cold. Which was hardly going to endear Ilse to him, much less under these circumstances.

“I’m sorry, Ilse. Really.”

That didn’t satisfy her. She wiped her face again and crossed her arms. “Never mind. Just go home.”

Go home. A simple and perfectly reasonable request. One he’d heard before from several different people. But this time it felt like a dagger between his ribs.

“Could—” No. The answer was no. But Ernst had to ask anyway, in case it somehow wasn’t. “Could I at least walk you home?”

“No.” She glared up at him, gritting her teeth now. “Just—go away. I’d rather walk myself home.”

He did his best not to wince at the dagger twisting in his back as he let his hand drift back to his side. It’d been a stupid question, of course. That much he’d known before he’d even asked. And he’d known exactly the answer too. Not that any of that made it hurt less now.

Maybe that was why he still hesitated for a few seconds before he turned and began making his way home, no longer bothering with trying to suppress his hay fever. To hell with everyone who shied away and whispered as he had to brace himself on trees or lampposts. It was still March. No one else would remember it being him specifically. Just another of the damned inconsiderate fools wandering around giving everyone a late spring cold, so far as they knew. His identity wasn’t half so important as his value as a scapegoat.

And at least this way, maybe he wouldn’t have to admit to himself that there could be other reasons for the dull aching in his chest.

[glimmerglanger]

Okay so I love love LOVED that Panaka snippet--I just love the dude, he's so GOOD, and eee! Obi-Wan let him have the kisses he so desperately craves!--and obviously I don't want to pressure or demand anything from you! But if you want specific prompts, wellll, I /am/ a basic and predictable bitch, so would you be interested in telling us more about Bruck? The aftermath of Obi-Wan's heat (what? I /said/ I'm a basic bitch!) or maybe how he's doing during/after the war. Does he ever see Obi again??

OHOHOHOHO. I’m very glad you enjoyed it and I am happy to dig deeper into this area :D (I’m sure they run into each other off and on. It’s probably VERY awkward.) This is post-heat, though.

~~~~~~~~

Bruck went back to his quarters after his… run-in with Obi-Wan; his throat tight and his stomach aching, unpleasantly. He tried to meditate and couldn’t, ending up springing back to his feet each time he sat down.

He’d… never gotten on well with Obi-Wan. Always felt strange around him, uncomfortable in his own skin. It had gotten worse as they’d gotten older, when he’d started to recognize the ache in his gut when Obi-Wan rolled those blue eyes or scowled with his full mouth or--

Bruck hadn’t wanted the feelings, shamed by the way he couldn’t even control his own body, sometimes. He hadn’t like the way just being too close to Obi-Wan… did things to him. His Master had eventually pulled him aside and had a talk with him about it. He’d even talked with the mind healers, a bit, about his reactions and handling them better.

Things had felt like they were making more sense.

And then Obi-Wan had found him in a hallway, and Bruck hadn’t meant to put hands on him, but Obi-Wan had kissed him, had pulled him into a little closet, had pulled open his robes, and--

And Bruck had never felt anything that was half as good as kissing him. He couldn’t, actually, imagine anything ever feeling better than he’d felt when they were together. It had been… amazing. A revelation.

Realizing that Obi-Wan was weeping had soured all of that. He hadn’t noticed at first, because Obi-Wan wasn’t making sounds, his shoulders weren’t shaking, and he’d been, well. Facing away. It had only been when Bruck leaned forward, thinking another kiss might be nice, perhaps a soft one, on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, that he’d noticed the tears.

The shock of it had torn through the dizzying pleasure. It had been a relief to be able to step back, some time later. He felt sick inside, unsure what he’d even done wrong, because Obi-Wan wouldn’t tell him, had claimed that it wasn’t him, as though that even made sense.

He ended up pacing out of his quarters, again, with no set destination in mind. His wanderings, eventually, brought him into contact with the gossip network at the Temple. Everyone was abuzz, it seemed, about something Vos had told one of his idiot friends, who’d told someone else, who told Bruck that Vos had dropped Obi-Wan earlier in the day.

Bruck was still turning that over in his head by the time dinner rolled around.

#

It was almost a relief when Vos passed behind his table in the dining hall and stopped, taking a pointedly deep breath. Bruck considered, scowling into his soup, that he likely still smelled like Obi-Wan. They’d gotten… very close.

His theory was confirmed a moment later, when Vos gripped his shoulder and tugged at him, demanding, “What did you do to Obi-Wan?”

Bruck felt itchy under his skin as he scowled up, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t see how what I did with Obi-Wan is any of your business, Vos.”

He watched Vos’s jaw clench, watched his eyes get harder. Bruck had never had a vision before. He didn’t think he was having one, in the dining hall, but he knew, anyway, roughly how the next five minutes were going to go.

Vos hit him, first. That was what he told Master Windu, after they were pulled apart.

Vos tried to hit him first, again, the second time, after Master Windu made them shake hands and Bruck leaned close enough to hiss, “You made him cry, you know. While I was doing what you wouldn’t--”

In the end, he ended up sent to his quarters for the rest of the night, to receive appropriate discipline from his Master. He found he didn’t really mind, so much, even with his eye aching and his bottom lip split.

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Thirteen

*Fake It Until You Make It Real*

This can be very emotional and even triggering to some people however there is nothing bad that happens except a child having an emotional reaction to a shitty situation. 

Sunday morning Harry woke up early but had taken one look at Louis curled up against his chest and had promptly pushed any thoughts of leaving the bed out of his head. As if sensing Harry's change of plans Louis curled up closer to him in his sleep. Harry kept am arm around Louis' waist as he grabbed his phone and lowered the brightness down so it didn't wake Louis up. He had a message from Gem and when he opened it he saw screenshots of his and Louis' social media profiles and a message under them.

Now that we've met him and definitely approve I think it's time to make it official don't you little bro? Go on and slap it on social media, make sure to post pictures with his butt visible. 😉👌

Harry shook his head but knew his sister was right. It was time to make it social media official and so he headed to Facebook and updated his relationship status to engaged and sent a relationship request to Louis. He then went to Instagram and updated his bio so it said he was engaged to Louis. After that was done he locked his phone and grabbed the remote turn the TV on keeping it at a low volume as Louis slept.

"Well this is nice. You should definitely stay in bed more often." Louis said thirty minutes later as he looked at Harry.

"I'm thinking about it. Though I might need some persuasion." Louis leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's lips before he laid back down and cuddling closer to him. Harry honestly just enjoyed the cuddling, it had been a long time since he has cuddled someone. He knew there was a good portion of people awake downstairs, could hear their voices, but he had no desire to get out of his warm bed.

"We should get down there. We're being bad hosts." Louis said

"I know." Harry groaned before he was trying to motivate himself out of bed. It didn't work right away but eventually he was rolling out of bed and getting himself ready for the day. Louis doing the same a few minutes later. Louis stole one of Harry's sweaters and Harry grinned as he watched the way the extra fabric moved around as he brushed his teeth while Harry waited for him to finish. He also not so subtly watched him bend over the sink to spit out the tooth paste. Once he was done they headed downstairs together to see everyone was awake.

"Good morning. Jay and I made breakfast for everyone. Should be still warm." Anne greeted them

"You didn't have to do that. I was awake you just had to come and get me." Harry said

"Yeah but Louis looked comfortable when I saw you two so I didn't want to wake him."

"Harry gets out of bed every morning without waking me. I'm sure he would have managed." Louis said sending a glare towards Harry as he headed into the kitchen.

"He doesn't like it when I leave the bed. Says I take all the heat with me and it forces him out of bed." Harry told them as he sat in the oversized chaise while Louis headed into the kitchen.

"So we never did get to talk about the wedding. Have you picked a location? The flowers? The time? The honeymoon? Y'know Brazil is beautiful I know you loved it last time we visited as a family. Remember you wanted to stay at the pink place."

"I'm pretty sure Harry wanted to live there when he was twenty." Gemma said

"Louis and I have decided to take the kids on a holiday with us, a family vacation. As soon as the judge approves it which my lawyers says there isn't any reason why he wouldn't, I'll get it ran by the school. I think we've decided on Orlando there's Disney, Universal, SeaWorld, and other big things to do with kids and such. Then during spring break or the summer holidays we'll take a week away together somewhere else."

"I haven't agreed to that yet." Louis said from the kitchen

"I'll hogtie you." Harry told him, "Don't worry I'll have him in a hut on a beach without kids eventually. Or in a hotel right beside the Iguazu Falls in Brazil or Argentina."

"Or a summer trip with the kids." Louis said

"Or a private trip with a promise of loud uninterrupted-"

"Harold." Louis warned making their families laugh when Harry put his hands up in surrender.

"I was going to say playtime."

"That's even worse."

"How about the hokey pokey in our birthday suit?" Louis laughed loudly

"If you have to pokey the hokey then you're clearly doing it wrong Harry." Anne said

"Maybe we like to pokey the hokey mother." Harry said throwing a balled up piece of paper at her as Louis walked into the room shaking his head. He sat across Harry's lap so his back was pressed against the arm of the chaise. His plate of food piled high sat on his lap and his mug of tea was set on the coffee table.

"For the record if you ever poke me we're getting a divorce." Louis told him

"You ruin all of my fun. You won't have sex with me with our mothers here and you won't let me play hokey pokey with you naked. Next you'll be telling me I can't wear a lace teddy around the house with the kids home."

"Absolutely not." Louis said shaking his head as he cut into the pancake, "at least not while the kids are home." Harry laughed

"You're restricting my teddy wearing time. Geesh. I think I purposed too soon." Louis stabbed a piece of pancake and offered it to Harry watching as he leaned forwards and ate the piece off the fork.

***

After breakfast Louis was in the kitchen with Anne and Jay as they cleaned up from yesterday and breakfast. A loud banging came from the door causing them to jump from the suddenness.

"Are you guys expecting company?" Anne asked

"Not that I know of." Louis said as he dried his hands and headed to the front door. Louis unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open. He pulled his eyebrows together confused when he saw a police officer, Hannah, and her boyfriend standing there.

"Are you Mr. Styles?"

"No, but I am his fiancé why?"

"Can we come in?" Louis hesitated looking back for Harry but he still wasn't inside so he nodded and allowed them into the entry way closing the door behind them, "Does your fiancé still have his daughter here?"

"Yes of course. He has her for the week per her mother's....request."

"That's a lie I told him he could have her for Halloween, but he had to bring her back home Halloween night. I gave him last night out of kindness, but now I still don't have my daughter and I'm starting to worry about her. I have texts between him and I saying he wouldn't give her back. It's why I called the police." Hannah said tearfully, Louis laughed unable to help himself.

"First off Harry has it on video of you telling him to keep her for the week or not at all. Secondly Harry hasn't had his phone on him all morning. I do because he asked me to go get for him from the bedroom but then he went outside with the kids so he never got it from me. Thirdly any text Harry has gotten I haven't responded to or looked at because it's none of my business. Fourth call the number you were texting because I guarantee it won't ring Harry's phone."

"Hey what's going on?" Harry asked jogging up to them, "I thought you were going to America this week?" He said looking at Hannah.

"Mr. Styles, Miss. Carpenter claims you were suppose to take your daughter back home last night and that you are threatening her through texts of keeping your daughter from her."

"I don't even have my phone on me and Hannah and I don't text. Everything is on the phone or in person. Our lawyers demanded it since anyone could be Hannah in my phone and anyone could be me in hers. Any communications we have is to be recorded and sent to our respective lawyers. This isn't the first time Hannah has tried to charge me with parental kidnapping."

"I'm going to have to make sure that's the truth. Hand over your phone."

"Wait you're not even going to call the number she was texting. Make sure it was his phone in the first place." Louis asked the officer paused and looked at Louis before he turned to Hannah who looked offended by just the idea of it.

"Excuse me. We are here for my daughter."

"I have to investigate both sides of the story. Find out who is lying. Give me your phone please."

"No we are here to get my daughter from Harry and take her home not for you to turn around and accuse me just because my ex boyfriend's fuck toy spoke. Besides he shouldn't even be involved in this conversation."

"Louis is my fiancé and has every right to be here. So unless Daniel is leaving, Louis stays. Look I can show you the video where Hannah told me I have her for the week." Harry said but the officer shook his head

"It won't matter. She has custody and you have no legal visitation or right to have her in your house if the mother doesn't want her here. Unfortunately that means she can press charges for parental kidnapping if you don't let her take her daughter." The officer said looking like he didn't want to be the one telling Harry those words, "I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to go get your daughter and let her mother take her home."

"Okay." Harry said softly

"Okay?" Louis said shocked

"Louis please. If I fight or argue it can look bad on me. The judge won't look at the body cam footage and see a father wanting to see his daughter for more than a day, he's going to see a big man yelling at, not only a woman, but the mother of his child. That is all he is going to see. That is all they ever see because she has sob stories prepared to make me look bad. I have lost a lot of cases because I fought too hard, because I raised my voice, because she cried in my presence. I can't do anything except comply I can't have a parental kidnapping charge while fighting for visitation." Harry said gently, "can you please just go get Maddie for me?" Louis wanted to argue, wanted to yell and curse at Hannah because how dare she stand there smirking while she took Harry's daughter away just because. How dare she call herself a mother. But Louis nodded pressing a quick kiss to Harry's cheek and headed to the glass sliding doors watching Maddie and Freddie running and laughing on the playset.

"Maddison can you come here for a minute?" Louis asked just loud enough to be heard over the laughter filling the backyard. Maddison and Freddie looked his way before they ran up to him with large smiles and red faces, "come on Maddison, Freddie stay out here with Zayn alright?" Louis said as he felt Zayn squeeze past him with a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

"Come on Freddie bet you can't run faster than me." Louis owed Zayn a nice dinner as he watched Freddie run off yelling after him. He gently led Maddison inside the house and closed the glass door and led her to where Harry was with Hannah, Daniel, and the officer.

"I will have these screenshots and body camera sent to your respective lawyers so they each have a copy for the court meeting." The officer was saying

"Thank you." Harry said shaking his hand before he turned to them, "hey princess you have to go with your mom."

"What? Why?" Maddie asked looking between Harry and Hannah, "you promised. You promised I'd stay with Daddy all week." Maddie said looking at Hannah

"Yes well I've changed my mind now come on we need to go. We still have to pick up the cookies from the shop for career day tomorrow. Remember."

"You're not going to career day tomorrow?" Louis asked looking at Harry who clearly knew nothing about it.

"Mom says daddy has to work." Maddie told Louis

"I'm off tomorrow. What's career day?"

"It doesn't matter Daniel is going. He is with her everyday after all. Much more her dad than you are. Come on Maddie we are leaving." Hannah said grabbing Maddie's wrist only for Maddie to yank it out of her grip.

"YOU LIED! YOU SAID YOU CALLED DADDY AND HE SAID HE COULDN'T COME! IM NOT LEAVING! IT'S NOT FAIR!" Maddie yelled

"You are leaving right now come on." Hannah snapped grabbing Maddie's arm again.

"NO! NO NO NO NO NO! NO!" Maddie screamed fighting out of her mother's grip, "DADDY! DADDY PLEASE! SHE SAID A WEEK! SHE PROMISED!"

Louis had tears in his eyes as he watched this beautiful little girl fall apart in a way only a child in a such a bad situation could. She was crying, screaming, kicking, flailing, doing everything she could to fight off Hannah. Louis looked at Harry and could see the pain in his face as he tried to make her let go of him when she hugged his waist begging him to keep her.

"Maddison that is enough. Stand up and let's go." Hannah said

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" Maddie screamed as she was dragged out of the house, "DADDY! DADDY PLEASE! SHE PROMISED A WEEK! SHE PROMISED! DADDY! LET ME GO! LOULOU! LOUIS! LOUIS DON'T LET HER TAKE ME! LOUIS PLEASE!" Louis took a step forward fully prepared to go to jail to stop Maddie's pain but a strong arm wrapped around his waist and kept him there.

"Harry let me go. Harry let go of me." Louis hissed pushing his arm off of him and running outside, he pulled Maddie into tight loving hug before Hannah could put her in the car, "It'll be okay. Hush darling it'll be okay. Relax. Deep breaths. There you go. Easy breathing...there you go." Louis whispered gently as he rubbed her shaking back.

"She promised. She promised a week."

"I know but it's not your daddy's fault, sweetie. Now tell me what you want your daddy to bake for your class."

"C-C-C-Cookie dough cup-cupcakes." Maddie said between sniffles, hiccups, and heavy breaths from her crying and screams.

"Okay. I'll tell him. He loves you and so do I. It'll be okay." Louis stood up and kissed her head then without even turning towards Hannah he headed back inside the house.

Harry was sitting on the floor crying just as hard as Maddie had been a few moments ago. Louis slid into his lap and hugged his neck feeling his arms wrap around his waist and his sobs wet the sweater Louis was wearing.

"Don't you ever hold me back when my child yells for me like that again." Louis said as gently and a softly as he could so Harry knew he wasn't mad at him. Harry didn't respond, not that Louis expected him to, he just sat there holding Louis as he cried and Louis sat there holding Harry rubbing his back and trying to do whatever he could to soothe him. They sat there well over an hour before Harry stood up and headed upstairs with a soft click  of a door closing. Only then did Louis let his own tears fall as he sat between Anne and his mom.

****

Harry only came down briefly to say goodbye to their families and he tried to apologize to Louis' family, but his mother out a stop to that immediately. When they had left Harry had kissed Louis' cheek then headed back upstairs. Louis understood that Harry wasn't in the right space to be out so he didn't mind doing the last few things that needed done before Freddie came back. Zayn had texted saying he was feeding Freddie then would bring him back and from there they would decide if he should take him overnight. So yes Louis definitely owed Zayn for today. Louis had just sat down when the front door opened and Zayn and Freddie came in.

"I'm sorry." Louis said looking at Zayn

"Don't worry about it. I can't even imagine what you two are feeling."

"She yelled for me. Cried and screamed for me. I felt useless. Harry hasn't left the bedroom except to say goodbye and he tried to apologize to my mom. I can't imagine it. I can't- my heart hurts." Louis said stubbornly wiping his eyes before Freddie saw

"Do you want me to take him for the night and take him to nursery? I don't mind and it wouldn't be the first time I kept him an extra night."

"Do you mind? It's just Harry will want to make Maddie's cupcakes and-"

"Say no more. Go take little man to say goodnight to Harry and I'll pack him a bag." Louis nodded calling for Freddie and heading upstairs with him as he told him he would be staying with Zayn.

"We're going to tell Harry goodnight okay?"

"Okay." Freddie said cheerfully opening the door and running to the bed climbing up on it , "hi Harry Papa is letting me stay with Zayn on a school night so I came to say goodnight to you before I leave."

"He is? That sounds like so much fun. I bet Zayn will let you stay up an extra hour if you ask him." Harry said

"I bet so too. I'll miss you though but I guess I'll just see you tomorrow because we live here now so I won't miss you too much." Harry chuckled

"I hope you have a lovely time tonight Freddie and you give this to Zayn. Put it in his hand and yell no takebacks and run away got it?" Harry said as he grabbed a bundle of 50s and handed it to Freddie.

"Okay."

"Tell him to buy art supplies or pizza or beer or a night buddy. It's his to do with what he wants. No take backs alright?"

"You got it Harry. Goodnight."

"Goodnight squirt." Louis chuckled as he followed Freddie downstairs where he did as Harry told put the cash bundle in his hand and yelled no takebacks then ran outside to the car. Louis could hear Harry laughing from upstairs as Zayn glared at them.

"Louis I can't-"

"You can and you will. Look I promise you that is the lowest bundle in the house so if you don't take that one he'll just give you one that's bigger. Seriously just go on and get out of here and have fun and spend it on yourself mister." Louis said pushing Zayn out of the house and locking the door behind him laughing as he watched Zayn glare at him through the window. He waited until they had left before he headed upstairs and saw Harry was sitting up in the bed now rubbing at his face with his sweater.

"I'm sorry. I just...I couldn't socialize anymore."

"Hey it's okay. Trust me my family didn't even care you were up here after that. The only reason they stayed so long because we all cleaned up so you didn't have to."

"I know and I feel bad. They were guests they shouldn't-"

"My mom was feeling useless not cleaning something, she was ready to beat you if you didn't let her help. She didn't mind. No one did. It's okay they still think you're amazing."

"Okay...alright...tell me what I gotta do." Harry said rubbing his face again.

"She said she wanted cookie dough cupcakes."

"Figures. I made them a few months ago for her birthday, I saw her a few weeks after her birthday and I baked her a cupcake of her choice. I need to run to the store real quick but I have mostly everything here."

"Okay. What do you need me to do."

"Relax. I need you to relax. Lay in bed, go to sleep, lay on the couch, whatever it is, just relax. You've done enough today."

"I want to help."

"And you will when I need you to so for now take a nap because this might take a few hours."

"Alright. I'll nap on the couch."

"Good." Harry kissed his forehead as he stood up and they headed downstairs together. Louis made up his spot on the couch and laid down while Harry got the recipe and checked his ingredients. He gave Louis a kiss before he headed out of the house and to the store. Louis fell asleep shortly after that as Titanic played on the TV.

****

Making the cupcakes didn't take as long as Louis had feared, but he was definitely regretting it Monday morning as he sat in the passenger seat of the Murano while Harry drove to the school. Louis had explained to Harry that career day was an all day event, hence the snacks, a few students were assigned a good a beverage like Maddie and a few others were assigned desserts. A few others were assigned drinks and lunch and stuff like that. There were thirteen students each year one class so the forty cupcakes were more than enough for Maddie's class and they would have extra to bring home which Louis was excited about. When they got to the school building Louis walked with Harry to Maddie's classroom. Maddie was sitting at a round table with her chin held in her hand as she kicked her feet.

"There she is." Louis said quietly pointing at her watching as Harry grinned when he spotted her as well. Louis said a quick hi to Maddison before he headed to his class as Harry sat in a too small chair at a too small table with Maddie. Turns out career day was much more than just talking about your job, at least for this classroom, there were coloring sheets and recommended questions to ask. It was very thought out and Harry had never been more happy to be so uncomfortable especially when the teacher had given Maddie a stack of papers about doctors to pass out to the students and parents.

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Day Seven

Day Seven of the Hello Spring 2020 Writing Prompt Challenge

Characters- Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Fem! Reader

Prompt- “Are we friends?” “No.”

Warnings- Drinking? Dean being illegally attractive?

Wordcount- 2,050

           You’re sitting in the bunker with Charlie for your rare movie night. Things haven’t been settled enough for the two of you to really see each other, between the last world-ending event, your normal hunts, and Charlie’s responsibilities as Queen of a LARP Kingdom. Ahead of you waits a movie marathon- you would bet money Charlie picked Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings series- girl talk, and movie snacks, and even better, a night off from ganking monsters or stitching yourself and the boys up. 

               Sam and Dean had even left the bunker for the night, going to have some “brotherly bonding”, which you suspected was a cover for probably getting themselves arrested, absolutely piss-drunk, or both. “Alright, up for some Harry Potter?” Charlie exclaims, already sliding the disc into the large telly Dean had hooked up to what he and Sam called the “Dean-cave” (you refused to call it that). “Obviously. While we watch, you can finish telling me all about this girl you met.” You tease, wiggling your brows playfully at your red-headed best friend. Charlie laughs and agrees, and you grab the popcorn and change into your pyjamas.

               You were both laughing so hard your stomach ached over the story of your latest hunt- on which Dean had tripped right into the grave you’d dug, and the lid of a coffin had closed, trapping him with a skeleton- when the bunker doors open, familiar footsteps clunking down the stairs. “Y/N? Charlie?” Dean calls, peering into the room. “Hey, Dean. What are you doing back so early?” You ask, turning to face him questioningly. “Stealing my popcorn, apparently!” Charlie gasps, looking affronted as Dean reaches over to steal a handful of her popcorn. You laugh, and Dean winks, quickly munching on the popcorn with an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Friends share, Charlie.” He states seriously. “Are we friends?” Charlie asks, and now it’s Dean’s turn to act offended. “No. Apparently, Y/N is the only nice one here.” Dean huffs, green eyes narrowing at Charlie as he crosses his arms over his chest. You snicker and shove the tall hunter’s shoulder playfully. “Who says I’m nice?” You quip, raising a brow. “Unbelievable. You two are- are ganging up on me!” Dean shouts, throwing his hands in the air, and directing a glare at you and Charlie, while you only gave an innocent smile. “Payback for interrupting girl’s night. Now get out, Winchester, unless you want to hear all about my date from last week!” You smirk, Dean’s ears going red as he mumbles inaudibly and whirls around. “I am gone!” He calls from over his shoulder.

            You and Charlie laugh at Dean’s expense before you turn back to watch the movie, except her playful smirk that can only mean she’s up to no good is now directed at you. “What? I don’t like it when you look at me like that, Char.” You say nervously. “Oh, nothing. It’s just interesting, is all.” Charlie shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk only growing. “What.” You demand, less a question and more an order now. “You and Dean. How long has that been going on?” Charlie questions eagerly, leaning closer to you. You nearly choke on air. “Me- Dean and- What?!” You sputter, eyes as wide as moons. “Oh, please, Y/N, as your best friend, it is my sacred duty to inform you that you two are making major heart-eyes at each other. It’s kinda gross, actually, in a cute way.” Charlie snorts, rolling her eyes at your apparent obliviousness. “Charlie, I think you’ve been watching too many rom-coms.” You scoff. “Y/N, are you serious? You can tell me, I swear I won’t say anything.” Charlie pleads, giving you a pair of puppy-dog eyes almost as convincing as Sam’s. You sigh, realizing she isn’t giving up, and resign yourself to your fate.

          “Alright, fine, you got me. I may, sort of, just a wee bit, kind of... fancy Dean.” You admit. “But if you tell anyone, or even think about it near him, Charlie, I swear to God, I will bloody murder you!” You rush out, panicking at the thought she might let something slip. You loved Charlie, but she was kind of awful at keeping things hush-hush, and you would die from embarrassment if Dean ever found out about your not-so-platonic feelings for him. “I knew it! This is like, amaze-balls, Y/N! In the books the tension was so unreal, and in person, it’s killing me! Dean is totally crushing on you!” Charlie squeals, her face lighting up at your admission. “Holy Batman, you guys are just so cute together! You have to tell him!” Charlie insists. “Charlie, you’re insane. We get along great, and our friendship is really important to me. I’m not going to risk that because of some stupid feelings. Look, Char, I love for trying to convince me to take the chance, but it just isn’t gonna happen, and that’s okay. I’d rather be Dean’s friend than a hook-up or something.” You sigh. “But Y/N, I’m totally serious! You should see the way he looks at you-” “I’m attractive, and I’m a woman. Of course he looks at me. Lust and love are two very different things, Char. Can we- can we just drop it, please?” You ask, mood much more subdued now. “Okay. You’re wrong, though. You’re the Hermione to Dean’s Ron.” Charlie says softly, letting the topic go and playing the next movie.

               What neither of you know is that Dean had walked back, about to inform you of the next hunt, and heard everything from your threat on Charlie’s life, to Charlie’s weird, Harry Potter-themed comparison. Dean stood frozen in the hall, and almost dropped his beer in utter shock, his swift reflexes preventing him from being caught. He was glad no one saw him, because he was sure he’d turned a brighter red than Charlie’s hair, eyes bugging out of his head. Dean had been harboring the world’s biggest crush on you since the moment you’d met- first time the Winchester brothers saw you, you were spattered with blood (whose blood it was was impossible to tell) and had just eradicated a nest of at least five vampires, alone, and Dean was pretty sure he’d frozen and stared at you for a full minute- and had kept it to himself (except Sam, who somehow knew about Dean’s feelings before Dean knew about Dean’s feelings) the entirety of the four years he’d known you. The whole time, he didn’t think for a second you might feel the same way. For a split-second, he wondered if he was dreaming, the surprise of hearing you say out loud that you, Y/N L/N, actually fancied him, Dean Winchester, making his head spin and heart rate accelerate dangerously. And he knew exactly what he had to do.

                You and Charlie had shoved Dean Winchester and all relating topics aside, completely focused on catching up on all that you’d missed, and laughing over inside-jokes and the movies. “Hey, I just had a great idea.” You say suddenly. “What?” Charlie demands excitedly, smiling wide. “Snacks are great and all, but what would really make this a party is some tequila.” You grin, eyes bright with mischief. Tequila was Charlie’s weakness- two glasses in, and she’d be three sheets to the wind, and singing loudly and off-key whatever horrible pop song came into her head for hours, until she eventually passed out. “Absolutely not!” Charlie denies instantly. “Knew you’d say that. You’re no fun.”, you say with a smile, “but if you insist on denying me my own private concert, I’ll break out the cheap booze instead.” You finish. “Be right back! And don’t watch without me!” You shout warningly, Charlie giggling behind you and claiming she made no such promises. 

              You were still grinning as you made your way to the kitchen and the cabinet which housed bottles of cheap, but effective, alcohol. Rummaging through your options and humming classic rock to yourself, you didn’t notice someone else entering the room. “I hope you two aren’t drinking tequila. I don’t think I can handle a three-hour repeat of Charlie singing “Walking on Sunshine” again.” Dean’s low voice chuckles, the sound of his warm timbre sending warmth to your cheeks instantly as you recall the conversation about him from earlier. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. Just some trashy vodka tonight. I think the trick is to get her drunk before mentioning the tequila so she won’t be so sensible and say no.” You laugh, turning around with the bottle in your hand. Your breath catches at how close Dean is, close enough to count every freckle, to see every colour in his unfairly gorgeous messy green eyes. Your nervous smile falters under the intensity of his gaze- normally, when he’s as focused and determined, it’s because he’s staring down some demon or monster. Now he’s staring at you, and the air feels charged, and then his eyes drop from yours to your lips. It’s an effort not to let the glass bottle slip from your hand to the wood floor, and you should probably get going, really shouldn’t be doing this, but the rational part of your brain is drowned out in the overwhelming wave of Dean, and his smell, like good whiskey and leather and gasoline, and his eyes, which were seriously too beautiful to even be possible, and the way he was looking at you. He moves, and this time, you do drop the bottle, thankful for Dean’s quick reflexes as he catches it, and places it behind him on the island without looking, his plump lips crashing onto yours, stubble scratching your cheeks in a way that ignites a blaze of fire in your belly. 

            You kiss back just as passionately, all teeth and tongue and hands that map your body but stay above the waist in a way that’s so gentlemanly and so not. Just as swiftly as the kiss began, Dean ends it, pulling away barely, so you’re breathing the same air, chests heaving. It’s silent for a long moment, just staring at one another, your mind replaying the scene a million times. “You should get back to Charlie.” He murmurs, looking dazed and unfocused, but his eyes are still fixed on you. “Yeah.” You nod, suddenly insecure- was this his way of changing his mind, letting you know the kiss had been a mistake. Something in your expression or flashing through your eyes must give you away, because Dean gently cups your jaw in his rough, warm hand. “Hey,” he says, making you meet his eyes again, the green of them turned dark and hungry, but he’s looking at you with such tenderness, too, “you and me, we’re gonna talk, and I’m gonna kiss you again, probably a lot, but if you don’t walk out of this kitchen soon, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.” Dean says roughly, drinking you in. You suppress a shiver at the insatiable look in his eyes, the firm set to his jaw, and carefully step around him. 

                 You take the vodka bottle, and grip it so tight your knuckles turn white, like it’s the only thing keeping you from jumping the hunter right there in the kitchen. Dean watches your every move, and at the threshold, you look back at him. “So, I take it you fancy me then, right?” You ask, needing to hear confirmation. His lips draw into a smirk, and you want to kiss the smug expression off his face. “Give Charlie a thank you for me. Never been so glad for her Harry Potter references in my life.” Dean replies, watching in amusement as you flush red, realizing he heard you little talk with Charlie. “Hope she wasn’t spendin’ the night.” “Why’s that?” You dare to ask. “’Cause we’ve got plans.” Dean smirks, cocking a brow at you, waiting for you to tell him if he was crossing a line. “I’ve seen Harry Potter too many times anyways.” You mutter, meeting his cocky grin with one of your own, and quickly leaving the kitchen.

             “Charlie, I will never doubt you again, as long as I live.” “Well, good, but what happened?” “You and Sam hang out tonight.” “Huh? But- sleepover! Why?” “I’ve got plans.”

TAGS-

@ibwhellowriting​

[shroudedson]

⚔ II Closed for @katrinkc​ II Two Wolves and a Dagger

———— The morning lent itself to thought, snow dusting the ground, the land wearing a mask of purity. Yet, his mind was plagued with cynicism, taking over every fiber of his earthy being, as though it was the only thing of note he had learned in his youth. Enjoyment should have been found in the cracks of the summit, yet the picturesque confines of his dwellings brought nothing besides conflicting notions that tore at already tattered seams of composure. He was not built nor accustomed to the life by which he was meant to lead in the coming months. Though successful at most diplomatic things he was assigned, there remained a difficulty in such tasks that often seemed insurmountable. More worthy to sit among fellow men of war, the pursuits of those closer to his stature seemed so far-fetched, they did not contain his full comprehension. He was understanding of their quest for power only if it aligned with his own - for the betterment of their society and not in spite of it. Could these things exist within these men who seemed so audacious and wily compared to those he normally shared his time with? These musings shoved him in the direction of company that would quell his persistent anxieties: his sister, Katrinka.

Compelled to be in her presence, which possessed the fiery spirit of Russia paired with all the refined nature of a true princess, he had invited her to the training yard. She was what he needed to mirror if he were to make significant strides in his current pursuits. He dare not divulge such things to her, however, as she was still likely aligned strongly with their elder brother and would not shift her support to him so easily. This was his feeling towards the bulk of his siblings, their loyalties to him only extending so far. He attributed such wavering ideals to his lack of presence within their lives as they grew. He had been walking his destined path since a very young age, one bred of solitude and conformity, which did not lend itself to forming notable bonds with his family. A traveler without a real home, destined to capture souls of those deemed disposable to accomplish the whims of leaders, he had no claim to their devotion. Thus, his siblings and newfound family rarely acquired the luxury of his time, finding Ivan's far more easily accessible. It was only natural that they should support Ivan's claim over his because he was little more than a stranger who donned the Rurik crest.

Even if he understood that his deeply-rooted affections for them were unrequited, he maintained them. He was concerned about the state of affairs Katrinka had been wed to, the tumultuous opinions the English held of the Russians a dangerous arena for a woman without real power. Out of all of his sisters, she provided the most perturbation to his frame. His other sisters were more weathered by time, having dealt with more intense pain than she. But she was beginning her journey as the heir to the English throne with a partner Rudolf did not see as her equal. The man seemed weak, a mere boy who did not wish to support his wife but rather control her - and who would not defend the Rurik name with proper vigor. Rudolf had seen the hatred of Russia in many a face, brought them to their demise, and no matter how many he killed, they continued to sprout like lilies in the spring.

So, he wished to ensure the safety of his sister if her husband was unwilling to do so, providing her with knowledge of things only the men in their time were made aware of. He had taught her from a young age to be the wolf that she was and to be unrelenting in her strength, despite the world demanding her fire be stomped out. Her ability to protect herself would placate his uneasiness and allow him a good night's rest. His large frame towers over the weapons rack provided by the French king, eyes dashing over the craftsmanship with scrutiny only he could muster. They seemed well made, yet the elaborate designs distracted from the true purpose of it all; to kill. Perhaps it was reflective of French society in general, that they cover their poison in lovely designs so that they seemed less threatening overall. Just as such notions crossed his mind, the crunching of snow beneath delicate feet catches his attention. He turns and is greeted with the image of the little wolf.

Katrinka had grown into someone he barely recognized, her stature filled with such poise it seemed she was merely a woman who resembled the girl he had known. Her raven hair was of longer length than the last time they had met, her brown eyes piercing as though the pain had shifted her. It was astounding to see her a woman grown, but the strings of his heart tugged with embedded disappointment. Not in his sister, but in the system that had clearly provided her with such agony that the light had drained from her soul. He crosses the courtyard towards her, opening his arms in an offer of affection. It is not often he would reach out to her, but he had yearned for her company far more during this past battle than before, so he is acting a bit out of turn. "I have been thinking of you recently, I hope your difficulty in getting leave was naught." He reaches towards her, pulling her into his chest and releasing her a few moments after.

"Come, let us spar." He offers, extending his hand which wrapped around a dagger he had acquired during his travels. "I am sure you have some frustrations that demand to be absconded, let me assist you and then we may talk of your life in England." Rudolf always attempted light conversation around his sisters, unwilling to trouble them with the tribulations of the life he led. Why should women fill their heads with thoughts of war when he was unsure these things were even fit for men? He wished only for them to have lives filled with happiness and freedom from the restraints that bound him - thus, he often avoided speaking about the issues in his own life in exchange for issues in theirs. He only hoped he could provide her with the same peace that she did him.

[bewaretheundead91]

Devenford Prep Part 35

A/N: Back by somewhat popular demand I give you an update for my Brett Talbot Devenford Prep series. I will say that depending on the amount of people who read this will potentially determine if I update again. Like I have said before I’m trying to close this fic up. Is this a perfect update? By all means no! Are there errors? Probably a lot of them. Are the tenses everywhere...you betcha. Was it fun to dive back into this world? Hell yeah! Please send me messages about what you think!

Parts 1-34

Face claims for characters other than Y/N

“A dead pool?” Erika practically shouts as she sits down at her desk. “Like an actual list someone threw together and is willing to give money to assassins to kill you and other freaky people?” 

“Freaky people?” You scratch your head.

“And you’re worth how much?” She bolts her head up making her curls shake. Her eyes go wide.

“I already told you, $900,000,” You whisper through your teeth and close your eyes. “This really was a bad time to tell you, we’re about to take a test and all you’ll be thinking about is what I’ve been thinking about since last night.”

“I’m sure you were thinking about something else last night.”

“Excuse me?” You glare at her.

“But now I have to worry about you and Liam being potentially killed!” She raises her voice.

“What was that Erika?” The teacher asks walking to the front of the classroom with a stack of freshly printed tests. You could still smell the ink and heat of the paper.

“Nothing, it’s apart of this thing,” She starts to improv. “This thing…”

“This thing?” The teacher asks. “Does it have anything relevance to the test the class is about to take?”

“Halloween!” You shout. “It’s about Halloween, this thing…sorry for talking so loudly.”

“Y/N,” The teacher starts. “These conversations are for before or after class.”

“You’re completely right.” You nod.

The teacher passes the tests out and you stare blankly at the first page. Your eyes skim over the questions and start filling in answers as best as possible. You glance over at your finger tips every few seconds feeling the anxiety at the base of your wrist waiting to spring out your claws.

This made you curious about how Brett of all people had the time to study during the life he was living. Brett was able to maintain his muscly physique, be the captain of the lacrosse team, make out with Samatha, while flirting with all the girl in school and also had the time to pester you. Most of all he was a werewolf with werewolf parents and pack meetings. And now there was you. Had his grades fallen because of you?

We’ve got this, you hear Brett’s voice in your head, You’ll always have me. A smile spreads across your lips and you catch Erika shaking her head at you in your peripherals.

After class you rush out into the hallway. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Erika shouts shoving through people in the hallway. “You’re going to admit this and you’re going to admit this now. I need to know everything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You says turning around. Erika stops beside you and breaths in deeply.

“I’m your best friend, I’m supposed to be the first person to know,” She says. “Who knows who you like and I’m not stupid Y/N, and me and Liam need a double date to this damn dance.”

“What?” You shout. 

“I saw you in class, you were thinking about him,” Erika says and winks. “That smile in class wasn't just a I’m happy smile, it was a I’m in love smile. It was an I’m in love with…smile.”

“I was just smiling,” You says griping the strap of your backpack. “I’m really sure Liam would love to double date with us…with Brett and who ever he takes.”

“You, he’s taking you,” Erika says. “Like who the hell else would he take Samantha is with his cousin now right?”

“That’s not Brett’s cousin,” You inform and chuckle. “Killian, the dark hair guy is in Brett’s pack.”

“Oh I should have connected the dots.”

“Who are you in love with Y/N?” Brett walks past a few peers with a furrowed brows.

“Both of you guys frustrate me,” Erika turns to Brett. “Brett it’s more than when you used to annoy the hell out of her and I would have to listen to her complain about it.”

Brett cranks his head back in confusion.

“I didn’t even realize how much you actually talk until last week,” Brett blurts out. “Erika you talk a lot and you’re really loud. And confusing.”

“Brett!” You turn your head and flash your wolf eyes at him. He rolls his eyes.

“You did not just…” He flashes his eyes at you and playfully shoves you.

“I saw that!” Erika shouts.

“You’ve got be quiet.” Brett says dropping his happy expression. He pinches the bride of his nose.

“And you’ve got to be a bit nicer,” You start to walk away from Brett and Erika. Erika trails behind you and makes it to your side. “Come on defend yourself against tall stuff over there because if you’re so keen with whatever you want us to do or become, you’re going to have to get used to that over there.”

“I’m used to him.”

“You’re used to one side of him, Talbot is a very confusing guy.”

“Get used to what?” Brett asks draping an arm across your shoulders. “Also I’m right here, not over there.”

“Yes you are.” You say taking in a deep breath, taking in the scent of his skin. He wasn’t wearing any cologne only a lightly scented deodorant. You take a quick glance as his neck with an urge to press your lips and nose against the delicate skin. Brett meets your eyes as you were turning your head back to the hallway.  

“900,000 huh? Over heard some people talking about a strange conversation you had in class today Y/N,” Brett pauses and shoots a glare at your best friend. “And Erika!”

“Oh yeah,” Erika perks up. “That’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Can we not discuss dead pool information at school?” Brett asks. “Who knows who the hell is working for this benefactor guy. I mean a kid from the beacon hills lacrosse team tried to kill you and Liam. His girlfriend also got me good and damn you almost died.”

“Brett!” You elbow him in the side he jumps slightly. “I haven’t even talked to Erika about that yet!”

“Wait you and Liam almost died?” Erika asks stoping her slow pace walk. You can see her face searching for an emotion to portray. Her backpack falls to the floor with her heavy text books producing a loud thud. “When?”

“Several times.” Brett says, like it was casual.

“No wonder you were being so weird around me,” Erika places her hand over her mouth. “And I was such a..”

“I haven’t even told her the amount of time Brett! I don’t want her to freak out.”

“Well babe, it’s time to rip that bandaid off if she’s going to be stuck in this mess with us. And with Liam.”

“Well babe,” You say sliding out from beneath his shoulder. “We aren’t supposed to be discussing these things on campus aren’t we.”

“Aww you called him babe.” Erika says retrieving her smile.

“I’m leaving you both and Brett you can drive yourself to Scott’s tonight after the game! I need some space from you.”

“Hey now!” He shouts down the hallway. “You’ll wear my jersey wont you?”

“What?” You shout with confusion and look at Erika. She was raising her brows up and down over and over again. 

“It’s the last game before the dance,” Brett pulls something out of his backpack and chucks it across the hall. You instantly catch it and hold it up. It was a dark green jersey with Brett’s Lacrosse number on the back of it. You could smell him on it which made your stomach flip. You wanted to press the fabric to your nose and even rub it all over your skin, but of course didn’t. What was about his scent that brought you comfort and made you so nervous at the same time? “You’ll wear it right?”

“Do I have a choice Talbot?” 

“No,” He shouts laughing. Everyone in the hallway was staring. “No choice at all.”

Brett turns around and walks off. Erika snatches the jersey from your hands.

“You know what this means right?” Erika asks examining the fabric.

“It means two friends are going to a lacrosse game tonight?”

“It means two friends are going to a lacrosse game and one of those friends will be cheering on her boyfriend wearing his jersey. It’s like one of those teen movies you always watch.”

“Erika I’m completely confused about how you are supporting something like Brett and I dating.” You grab the jersey back before she held it for too long. You didn’t want her scent on it.

“So you are you two?” She asks.

“No, you would already know. Werewolves don’t date.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Well they aren’t right now. Since someone wants them all dead.”

“That’s not even funny!”

After school you walk upstairs and plop yourself onto your bed. Erika was sensing that you and Brett were something more than just strangers turned friends. But was it true? Did Brett think that way? You could smell the jersey Brett had given to you through the nasty sweaty clothes in your gym bag. You had tossed the jersey into the gym bag in hopes that it wouldn’t distract you for the remainder of the school day. Was your scent affecting Brett like his was affecting you?

You hop off of your bed and pull out the green top. You quickly glance at your bedroom door to make sure it was closed, it was. The fabric was pressed to your nose instantly and you fall down on your bed with a small bounce. You close your eyes and the familiar feeling that you woke up with that night you and Brett had found each other in the woods slithered across your stomach and over your core. You scrunch your body around the jersey and feel your body start to sweat and overheat. 

“Maybe what I am feeling is more than I thought,” You say and stand up. You toss the shirt to your bed. “He wouldn’t ask me to wear his jersey just because we are friends right?”

Your phone buzzes and you pull it out of your bag. My parents will be at the game tonight along with my sister, Brett had text, they are excited to see you. You feel your body shiver and now your eyes were wolfing out. See them there, you respond then toss the phone next to the jersey.

“A cold shower it is,” You walk into your bathroom and turn the water on and step in with your clothes on. You let the cold water run over your hair and down your blazer. The clothes suction to your body. “What the hell?”

You and Erika arrive at the game and approach the bleachers. You could smell the Talbots in the crowd and it made your blood boil and nervous. Erika was looking at her phone texting Liam that she would see him after the game. You stretch your neck out looking for Brett in the crowd on the field and didn’t see him anywhere. You take a deep breath in taking his scent that lingered on the jersey in with it.

“This is such a bad idea,” You say after she presses send. “We shouldn’t even be out here, we should all be inside hiding or making sure we aren’t seen until we find a way to…kill those things.”

“There is no way anything will happen tonight in front of everyone. In fact this is probably the safest place to be,” Erika says and picks the green material of Brett’s Jersey you had layered over a long sleeve black shirt. “You look hot in his jersey. I mean no one at Devenford prep will ever mess with you ever again. He’s claimed you.”

“Ew, if you only knew how even more messed up that sounds with us being werewolves. This isn't some YA novel with a focus of werewolf mates. It doesn’t even work like that. I think.”

“I wasn’t even trying to go there,” Erika makes a disgusted face. “I was just saying that since he likes you no one will be able to make fun of you without answering to Brett.”

“No one will make fun of me without answering to this.” You fling out your claws.

“My boy better be keeping an eye on you.” A man say behind you and Erika interrupting your conversation.

“Mr. Talbot,” You say making an embarrassed expression as you turn around to meet the very tall parents of Brett Talbot. “Mrs. Talbot and Lori. Always nice to see you all again.”

“I hope you’ve been doing a bit better, Y/N,” Mrs. Talbot says with a warm smile. “You’ll have to come by for dinner again. Brett keeps us very informed about everything.”

“And this must be Erika?” Lori asks. “My brother told me all about how you freaked out the other night and how you’re dating one of us.”

“It was very much warranted,” Erika says. “Trust me. I’m not even ashamed about it. In fact I’m sort freaked out that well Brett and Y/N and you guys…”

“When Erika gets nervous,” You begin to say. “She-”

“She talks a lot,” Brett pops out in front of bleachers in only his lower half of his lacrosse uniform. You swallow hard and mouth goes dry after giving him a glance up and down. “Isn’t that right Erika? It’s only fitting that I tell my parents about it.”

“I guess?” Erika asks. “I’m still taking it all in.”

“My son better be keeping an eye on you too, Erika,” Brett’s dad says. You watch as he looks over toward your friend. “I told him anyone that is important to you, Y/N, should be looked after.”

“I…ugh…” Erika was speechless. 

“Brett’s jersey sure looks better on you than on him,” Lorie says lifting her brows. “He also smells so strange right now. Go put a shirt on it’s gross!”

“I have to agree,” Brett says. He approaches you and pulls at the fabric. “Really it does and I like it when you smell like me.”

“Brett!” Mrs. Talbot practically scolds. “Son, don’t.”

“That’s gross.” Lori says again.

“Oh come on Lorie!” Brett shouts. “One day you’ll understand.”

“Well I think Erika and I are going to go find a seat. Good luck with the game Brett,” You awkwardly and playfully punch the tall boy’s bare arm. “I’m sure you’re going to crush it. Mr. and Mrs. Talbot nice talking to you guys and again I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

You push Erika forward toward a section of bleachers that were far away from the Talbots. She looks back at you and you gently pushed her towards a spot. 

“Shouldn’t we sit with the Talbots?” Erika asks. 

“No I can’t I’m honestly losing it in this jersey right now,” You say grabbing a fist full of shirt. “I would be so uncomfortable.”

“What do you mean? It can’t be uncomfortable, it’s a loose fit on you.”

“His scent is driving me crazy,” You finally admit to Erika. “It’s like he’s slept in this shirt everyday for a week or a month. It’s so strong. And I’m burning up. I want to rip it off.”

“He did say he likes you smelling like him,” Erika leans in and takes a sniff. “It’s just weird because I can’t smell anything, but the perfume you’re wearing.”

“I had to take a 30 minute cold shower before I picked you up this afternoon. I practically bathed in perfume hoping it would distract me. Today I shoved it into my gym bag hoping my sweaty clothes would cover it up.”

“You did seem a little on edge today, but I thought it was because of the dead pool.”

“The dead pool isn’t helping. And all I want is to…” Brett meets your eyes across the field. “I just want press my face up against his neck and wrap my arms and legs around him. It’s like I practically want to eat him right now.”

“Whoah, um that’s a lot and very out of character for you,” Erika says cranking her head back. “I didn’t even know you were capable of feelings like that.”

“I’m a teenager!”

“Liam constantly wants to curl up with me and just lay there. He always wants to fall asleep on top of me..”

Brett’s eyes flash bright yellow.

“Oh god he heard me say that and I’m sure his parent’s did too,” You bring your knees up on the seat and you wrap your arms around her legs. “I should just go home. I need a distraction. This night can’t get any worse. The last person in this world who would ever want me is Brett and the last person I should want is Brett.”

“Wolf things,” Erika says grabbing your shoulders. “It’s just a wolf thing. It has to be. It’s making you feel these things.”

“I mean it could be, it’s never been this bad,” You turn your body towards Erika. “I’m finally admitting to you and only you Erika.”

“What exactly are you admitting?”

“I don’t know, but I think what I feel for Brett is more than just friends.”

Before the game starts Brett jogs over towards a bench and pulls on his lacrosse pads and Jersey. He walks over toward the bleachers where you were sitting and ascends up the steps.

“I’m happy you’re wearing my jersey,” He says with a warm smile. “I’m glad about what we have. Regardless of what we want to call it. We don’t have to question what it is.”

Brett approaches you and you start to feel dizzy. He tilts his head and extends a hand to a section of hair that had fallen over your eyes. Gently he places it behind your ear. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“Do you recall when you told me I might be bad luck for your games?” You ask as you stand. “I hope that me wearing your jersey doesn’t give you bad luck tonight.”

“I just said that to you to get you all riled up. You’ll never be bad luck for me,” He says with a wink. “But I need you cheer me on as loudly as you can, scream my name for me babe.”

“Don’t call me babe!” You snapped. “I’ve told you that.”

Brett winks at you and jogs down the steps towards the field.

“I’m going to pass out.” You say. Your legs go weak and you fall back down to your seat.

“Scream his name for him?” Erika says fanning her face with her hand. “This is getting out of hand.”

“The game needs to start and I need to go for a run.”

[in-arlathan]

To Heal The Hurt

A/N: More Solavellan today. I was kind of in a sad mood, so this turned out a bit dark and angsty. This time, Lavellan tries to deal with her feelings for Solas after the events of “Trespasser”, aided by our beloved spirit friend Cole. Please enjoy!

––––

She will never shoot an arrow again. She knows it with unwavering certainty as she pulls the sash of her uniform over her head with one hand. 

Her one remaining hand.

Her fingers toy with the buttons on her jacket. The fabric rustles, while she struggles to push the buttons out of their holes, but she eventually manages it. Swearing under her breath, she tosses the jacket aside. Luckily, there are no servants nearby to hear her outburst. They would only alarm her companions, and she is not ready for their pity just yet.

Lavellan is back in the apartment she had been assigned to for her stay in Halamshiral. It consists of a set of three rooms large enough to house an entire family, with statues of golden lions and lavish oil paintings of human women in fine Orlaisean silks lining the walls.

Suddenly, being at the heart of the Winter Palace feels like a charade. What is she doing here, after all? She, a simple Dalish elf?

The notion reminds her of her time in Haven, when the Breach was still threatening to tear the world apart. Before she had become the Inquisitor. Before all of this. 

It had taken Lavellan weeks before she had grown accustomed to sleeping in a bed. Back in Haven, she often ventured outside her small wooden cabin to watch the stars as they traveled through the night sky, waiting for exhaustion to claim her. Even in Skyhold, where everything had been made to represent her, from the Dalish curtains to the lush gardens, she had a hard time sleeping with a massive stone roof over her head. It had taken her months to get used to it, and even then, she sometimes dreamed of sleeping out in the woods, listening to the wildlife and the wind around her.

But these chambers––they are just ridiculous. Suddenly, her stomach churns with revulsion. The same revulsion she had felt on her first stay at Halamshiral. 

She flings some more swear words at the lion statues and kicks her jacket farther away. Most of them are elvhen phrases, but she tosses in some curse in the common-tongue for good measure. 

It is a good thing the Inquisition was disbanded. For the first time in two years, she can go wherever she wants, free from the burden that came with the title of Inquisitor. 

Free from the burden of the anchor.

A sob escapes her and she sinks to her knees, her fist clenched, jaws tight.

“The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you, at least for now.”

Solas’s voice is still loud and clear in her mind as if he stands right in front of her, but she knows he is gone.

“I walk the Din’anshiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

But does he know that not being with him felt like dying, even after all this time?

She covers her face with one hand, as the tears begin to cloud her vision. Once more, she had reached out to him. And once more, he had pushed her away. Holding onto him had brought her nothing but pain, again and again. Yet, she holds onto it like it was some precious thing. 

Why was it so hard to let him go?

“Because the pain reminds you of the joy you felt when you were together,” a soft voice informs her. Without turning, she knows it is Cole. He sits on the floor beside her, cross-legged, his head bowed.

“You keep it hidden within, so the others won’t see it,” Cole continues. “But you can keep the hurt inside forever. The pain demands to be freed, felt, or it will eat you alive, tugging, tearing away from your being.”

Lavellan knows he is right, but she doesn’t know if she is up for the challenge. As long as she keeps the hurt bottled up inside her, she can pretend she is not deeply wounded. She can pretend that there is nothing wrong...

“I'm so stupid,” she breathes.

“He would strongly disagree,” Cole tells her.

She huffs, forcing a sad laugh, and wipes the tears from her cheek. 

The spirit beside her stirs, lifting a hand as if he wanted to pad her shoulder. “You wish you could heal his pain. I tried to heal it, too, but he knows how to hide himself away. It is not your fault he chose to walk this path alone.”

Lavellan turns to face Cole, trying to focus on his familiar features. The young man’s bonds with Solas were almost as strong as her own. If any of her companions knew what she was going through, it would be him. Yet, she can’t help but think about the countless conversations between Cole and Solas during their time with the Inquisition. Most of it had sounded like nonsense to her, Fade-talk neither she, nor the other companions had any part in. But now that she knows the truth, all of it makes perfect sense. Cole had seen into Solas’s soul, just like he sees into hers now.

“Did you know who he truly is?”, she asks, although she already knows the answer.

The silences between them endures, turning seconds into centuries.

“Yes,” Cole admits at last, his voice full of regret.

Her heart fills with more sorrow, all but suffocating her. Sucking in shuddering breaths, she waits for the wave of pain to fade away again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he asked me not to,” is all Cole says.

More tears come and she doesn’t hold them back any longer. She has tried too hard to keep them at bay for far too long. Sobbing uncontrollably, she opens up, lets the emotions flow freely until she feels empty, exhausted. If only she could go back to the simpler days. To the life she lived before any of this happened. 

“Can you make me forget?” she asks hoarsely.

“No, you burn too bright,” he tells her, his voice low and heavy. “But the pain gives you purpose. It will help you in what must come next.”

Blinking, she regards him once more. Something in his face has changed. He looks set, stern, determined. Like he has a plan ...

“I will go back to the Fade,” he says.

“What? No!” Lavellan springs to her feet. “You can’t just leave… I… we need you here.”

“I have to,” Cole replies. “What Solas is about to do will affect both worlds. I have to go back, to make sure everyone is safe.”

She takes a moment to consider what he means by that.

“The world that dreams and the world that wakes,” Cole says before she can come to a conclusion. “Both need someone to protect them.” The young man tries to smile. “You are here, keeping everyone safe. You do it better than I could. My place is with my own kind, now.”

Lavellan is surprised. This is the first time, she hears Cole talk like that, proud and willful, with so much clarity. 

A wisp of air rushes past her and Cole is gone. A heartbeat later, he reappears next to one of the lion statues, tracing the stone nose of the beast with his fingers. 

“Once, you and Solas help me to become who I was meant to be,” he says, referring back to the incident with the old templar in Redcliffe. Memories of that moment rush through Lavellan’s mind, as the young man speaks. “And he helped you to become who you were meant to be. A powerful woman. A woman of peace and plenty. It will take both of us to make him stop.”

She grits her teeth. “Easier said than done.”

“We need to heal the old pain or he will inflict more on those we love. We cannot let that happen.”

“No, we cannot,” she agrees and rubs the tears off her cheeks. “I only wish I knew how to carry on. I feel so... tired.” 

Cole turns to her again. “You are stronger than you think you are. That is why he loves you.”

Despite all the pain and sorrow, Lavellan huffs out a laugh. It’s a short, but genuine sound, and suddenly she feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. 

“This is goodbye then?” she asks.

“I don’t want to go, but I have to,” he tells her. “I am sorry.”

Slowly, very slowly, Lavellan nods. Of course, he has to help. It is in his nature. It is why the young man grew on her in the first place.

“Dareth shiral, my friend,” she says.

“This not the end,” Cole replies.

Not yet, she thinks but doesn’t dare to say the words out loud. And she doesn’t have to. She knows that he heard her anyway by the grief-stricken look on his face.

“We will make it all go away.”

Lavellan smiles. 

“We will try, at least.”

Another moment of silence falls between them. And then, in a heartbeat, the young man named Cole is gone, vanished from this layer of existence. Lavellan feels his absence with the same intensity like her missing arm. A phantom pain that will stick with her for years, maybe even for the rest of her life. But she will carry it with her, nourish the memory of Cole, so she can never forget him. 

“You are stronger than you think you are,” she hears him say, his voice echoing in her mind. “That is why he loves you.”

Lavellan stirs, straightens up.

That’s why he loves you, she thinks again. “Loves”. Not “loved”.

A wave of warmth washes over her, pushing the pain aside. Maybe Cole is right. Maybe there is a chance to save Solas after all.