#I mean there are other things she could do the would not require the height

[darlingpeasant]

Was gonna say next season I wanna see l more of that shift in dynamic where Pen has Colin up against a wall, a full blown make out sesh or whatever but then really thinking about it, as a fellow 5’1 girly, she’d probably need a little step ladder so she can really and I mean REALLY go for it lmao

[thebibliosphere]

I was just playing gotham knights again and noticed some passive dialog regarding Babs having a back brace, which is at least acknowledging that there was damage done, but I'm a little sad for the loss of some really cool disability representation. What are your feelings on her (and on a similar note Batman's) miraculous recovery from paralysis in DC?

I think Gotham Knights handled her disability fairly well, considering this is a universe where magic, nanobots, and puddles of evil green goo that can heal the dead exist. All things considered, it would have been very easy for them to either erase it entirely or just handwave and say, "She worked really hard and got better," as previous iterations of the canon have done.

Because she did work hard and get better, but the hard work is ongoing because they depict her issues as chronic.

She's got a limp (it's the most obvious in her Talon suit with no cape in the way), which means she can't rely on speed or high kicks like the others can (I mean, she can kick, but it's her slowest motion, and until you max out her suit, it's the most liable to get her thrown to the ground), so she falls back on precision and her tech.

Jason punches for maximum pain, Dick moves with dizzying speed, and Tim's gonna sneak up on you and drop you like a rock, but Babs is going for the pressure points with ruthless precision. Not to mention her drones.

The conversation with Tim, realizing she might need help boosting her suit to compensate for her pain/strength issues, is a nice little way of making the player aware that she's got these ongoing problems because, honestly, a casual observer could mistake her back brace for athleisure wear if they didn't recognize the shape of it. It's also a good way of throwing in some exposition about how she's still going to physical rehab and that her PT would like her to "wean off" her back brace, but because her PT doesn't know her actual job as a vigilante, Barbara admits she can't and is essentially finding ways to manage her own care and create her own accommodations. Accommodations which they are all shown to be willing to help with.

It's a nice little touch when superhero narratives tend to revolve around self-sacrifice to the point of self-destruction. Alfred giving Dick into trouble for pushing himself too far and hiding injuries is a nice touch, too, even if it's like trying to bail water on the Titanic with a teacup.

I also like that not only do you see her wheelchair lurking around the Belfry—along with the disability adaptations they put in place, like the ramps, the wheelchair elevator, and the desks that move up and down to wheelchair height—but that she also still uses her chair from time to time.

[ID a screenshot from Gotham Knights showing the Belfry. Light streams in through a giant clockface, showcasing a bank of computer screens. In front of the screen, Barbara Gordon is using her wheelchair as Dick Grayson stands behind her, probably making a bad pun.]

Whether she's using it because she's tired or simply because it's more comfortable than the computer chair is never revealed. Nor is it brought up or commented on. It's just something that's normal for Barbara to do, and I like that. I like that it's normal. It's not a part of herself she's trying to erase. She works with it, not against it.

Is it perfect? No. Do they outright erase her disability like so many of the comics are guilty of? Also, no. I'd argue that, in fact, they kept her disability. They just changed the nature of it.

Barbara now has a dynamic disability, one which fluctuates and requires different management based on her day-to-day (or night) activity. She's in active treatment for it and will be for the rest of her life. Are some of the physical feats she achieves realistic for someone with an injury of her nature? Not really, but again, this is a world where nobody stays dead, and there are zombie assassins coming out of the walls. I'll take the attention to detail and care they put into her story any day over the "Willpower Fixed My Spine" narrative we could have gotten.

As for Bruce getting healed by magic, again, it's Batman. Comic book logic is wibbly-wobbly at the best of times, and realistically speaking, they couldn't leave Batman paralyzed. His whole deal revolves around being stealthy and punching the shit out of people. He wouldn't be Batman anymore, and frankly, I don't trust the comic writers as far as I could throw them to handle that right.

By contrast, the Gotham Knights writers handled Barbara with much more care and nuance than I ever expected. And I'm thankful for that.

---

*I also like that both Dick and Barbara are often shown wearing joint braces. Dick's are especially reminiscent of the way gymnasts and people with hypermobility tape their joints to reduce pain and prevent injuries. It's a nice little touch. They're not invincible. Their bodies hurt. They're just like me but with money and much bigger problems like giant killer robots and zombie assassins.

[woodle-isbae]

Ambessa treating reader like a prized pet please please please 😫🙏 and maybe also being very condescending and lowkey mean 🫣

Flaunted like a trophy

Ambessa.M x fem!reader

Warnings: Trophy reader, suggestive(very), Drabble.

There you were, in the bedchambers of the one and only Ambessa Medarda. You stood there, draped in the finest jewelry she could get, the softest fabrics and a personal stylist to meet your demanding fashion choice.

Spoiled rotten.

That's what you were, given everything you wanted on a golden platter- never settled for anything she deemed low quality. You had one job, very easy and simple considering that she made sure you did it every day- dress like a little trophy so she can flaunt you around.

Most people would've given up by now, having to constantly show out- even in private, making sure she liked your outfits. Being put on a strict care routine- all so she can brag about your beauty.

"Stunning."

Her voice rung through the large room, the glint of heavy golds and jewelry around the place partially blinding you at angles. You were posing infront of her, showing off the new outfits she had designed for you to last a month at most.

"Everyone's going to be set on you, my dear."

She stood up, placing her glass down to strut towards you, her rough hands tracing every stitch on the thing gold material. She only stopped when she made it to your breasts, examining you for a brief moment before snapping her fingers.

"It's not pushing them up enough, I want every aspect to be shown."

"I think there should be a deeper cut, they're out enough honestly."

You huffed out, shaking your head in annoyance with how it didn't fit the standard you had set, pouting from the simple mistake.

"We'll get it tailored, don't you worry y'little head off."

"Ugh, make sure it arrives back soon."

She turned to you, a brow raised at your sparky and demanding tone, running her larger hand on your cheek.

"Don't catch an attitude with me."

To anyone else, her voice was calm and hushed, but to you -she was giving you a clear warning, just do as you were required to and it won't be a problem.

"Hm."

Your eyes darted to the door, the guards standing there staring seemingly into the distance. Ambessa had lifted her other arm, waving them off so it could be just you two in the room.

"You know...I really like the gold on your skin, it really suits you."

She had led you over to the sofa, signaling for you to lay down besides her as she sat, leaning on the back rest.

"Strip, I..want to see how it would slip off your body."

Her dull attempt at a lie made you giggle, uncliping a few knots and buttons before sliding the dress off your body, Ambessa grabbing the clump of fabrics and tossing it aside.

You leaned back onto the sofa, spreading your legs in anticipation for her next moves, your arousal seeping through the thing lace pair of panties she picked for you.

"Ah...you are really inpatient huh?"

She chuckled, pulling you in my for a kiss by the back of the neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Pulling back for some air, she gave you a smug smirk before pulling back and standing at her full height.

"Get ready for tonight, mabye if your lucky...I could finish what we started."

She walked past you, her hand brushing past your shoulder before she left the room. Leaving you alone to cool down before getting redressed.

Oh, how you couldn't wait.!

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language

Important note: At some point in the chapter, the reader provides a way for Daemon to address her. However, I want to emphasise that what she provides him is a title she has earned in the language of her people. Please regard this title the same way when the reader is addressed as Princess or Queen or Niece or whatever. Daemon will not be explicitly given the name of the reader due to obvious reasons :3

Credits for the gif: @dailyhodtgifs

“I don’t have time for stupid riddles and meaningless mind games, woman.” Daemon spoke with a hard tone, switching the torch to his left hand so that his right hand could rest against the Dark Sister. “I will not repeat myself again – show yourself!”

The woman walked towards the steel bars with slow steps, the sound of her bare feet touching the wet stones of the ground made Daemon realise that she did not have any kind of footwear on. All she wore was a plain, silver dress; however, when the light of the torch illuminated her figure completely, Daemon realised that the dress was not that plain at all. The ends of both sleeves and the neckline of the deep v-cut were all adorned with diamonds which made one think as if they had captured the light of the stars from the night sky. 

Her long hair had that same unearthly glow to it, again. “I still find it amusing,” the woman spoke, her soft voice holding Daemon in a warm embrace. “That you can see me, talk to me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Daemon asked, not trying to mask his confusion at all. “You will be giving me some answers, woman: who are you? Why is it amusing that I can see you? And how did you know that I was not here in flesh when I first saw you?”

The woman chuckled as she held the bars with her both hands. “You desire to know quite many, Daemon Targaryen.” She raised an eyebrow at Daemon’s direction. “What will be my gain in all this? Why must I provide you with such information?”

The grip Daemon had on Dark Sister tightened, causing the eyes of the woman to drift to the sword fastened around his hip. “Your gain shall be keeping your life, woman.”

A small laughter left her lips as she took a step backwards, causing Daemon to frown upon her reaction. “You cannot end my life as long as I am here, in this cell.” Her words caused the frown on Daemon’s face to get deeper. “No one can. It is enchanted to keep me alive, without being fed or given water, through any kind of sickness or injury – you ought to try harder.”

“Is the witch keeping you here? Captive?” Daemon asked, the word enchanted had been enough to ring some bells in his memory. He should have known that it was the witch’s doing – they all had been her doings. All the things he had seen – or he had believed to have seen – and more. 

The woman nodded with slow movements. “I assume you have already met her,” she muttered, more to herself. “Explains why you weren’t really here before tonight.”

Daemon shook himself and took up a strong, authoritative tone to put an end to this unnecessary negotiation. “Fine, name your price then!”

“My freedom,” the woman spoke without even thinking twice. “You shall have all the information you desire and in extension, all the support you shall require from me – in exchange for my freedom from this cursed prison.”

“Fine,” Daemon muttered somewhat reluctantly. “Even though I cannot quite tell what usefulness you could possibly posses for me, I will give you your freedom.”

His words caused the woman to stand upright suddenly, showing her full height – she could be even taller than most Targaryen Princesses. Daemon found it utterly difficult to tell who and what she was – the aura she carried with her was with no doubt different than any other human without Valyrian blood. Hence, his guess would be that she was not from around here; however, she too was neither Targaryen nor Velaryon. 

It was almost that she was not from the world as the men of Westeros had known it so far.  

“What will be your question, Daemon Targaryen?”

Daemon didn’t even give himself a moment to think before the words lefts his lips. “Who are you?”

The edge of her lips curled upwards as she came closer to the bars, her face almost resting against them. “In your tongue, in the world as you know it, I do not have a name.” Her answer only caused the confusion inside Daemon to grow. “Your people and the people you rule neither know me nor my kind.”

“So you are no human?” Daemon asked, only to earn a nod from the woman. “What did your people call you?”

“Oh, I have had many names and I too was given many more names but my people preferred referring to me as, Lùthril.” The woman responded, she pronounced her name amongst her people with a different accent, catching Daemon’s attention even further. “Which is not my given name, it is the name my people seemed fit for me.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her. “And what does that mean? In the language of your people?”

Lùthril sent Daemon a cunning smile. “In your tongue, it means enchantress – roughly translated.”

The silver-haired man rolled his eyes in annoyance at her words. “Another enchantress? As if I didn’t have enough of those to deal with.” 

A soft chuckle left Lùthril’s lips. “Trust me, Daemon Targaryen, you have never had to deal with any enchantress of my kind, yet.”

With a swift movement, Daemon placed the torch on an iron holder hanging from the wall to his right. Then, he crossed both of his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. “And what would be your kind? You don’t look like any other men from Westros.”

“It is because we are not from Westros, at least not from the way you know these lands.” Lùthril responded, her voice felt like silk against Daemon’s skin when her words reached him, pulling him in a gentle embrace. “I believe the name of my people has been forgotten to yours for generations, perhaps there haven’t been any word to describe us in the common tongue.”

The gaps she left between her words was making Daemon furious, testing his patience but at the same time, he was more intrigued than ever – he found himself wanting to learn everything about her, uncover every last mystery she had to offer. 

“What about the language of my people?” Daemon asked. “Do you have a name in High Valyrian?”

The smile forming on Lùthril’s lips was so beautiful, so pure it could make the rarest, prettiest flowers in the Seven Kingdoms envy its beauty; even the clearest of the rivers could not compete its pureness. Perhaps it was a trick of the enchantress, he did not know, but Daemon felt his heart and soul were being drawn to her, the more he let his eyes devour her unearthly beauty.

“Valyrians used to call us Valargon,” she replied and chuckled upon seeing the sudden change in his expression. “I suppose you are no stranger to the term.”

There was no direct translation of Valargon to the Westrosi common tongue, it meant something in the lines of spirit people but that was not enough to catch the powerful meaning of the word itself. Valargon was used to describe a different race which looked similar to humans but were closer to the gods in every other sense.

“Don’t try to hold me for a fool, woman.” Daemon spoke with a hard tone, the feeling of having wasted his time was slithering slowly back into his mind. “Valargon are nothing more than some fairytale told in Valyria before the land met its doom. State your business now or I will make sure you meet your doom as well!”

Lùthril heaved a sigh as she shook her head in disbelief, the way she showed her King absolutely no respect was about to drive Daemon mad. One voice in his head was whispering him to smash her head to the bars until her pretty face was nothing but a mess of blood and broken bones. However, a different voice was telling him to be patient with her and was secretly yearning to touch her skin.

“Such a disappointment,” she spoke with a low voice which carried the hints of sadness, “that me and my people are nothing but a bedtime story to you. Look into my eyes, Daemon Targaryen. If you look deep enough, you will see the undeniable proof.”

A frown formed on Daemon’s face. “What proof?”

Lùthril motioned Daemon to come closer and his feet obeyed her without even letting him decide. Before he knew it, Daemon stood with his face against the bars separating the enchantress from him, her warm breath licked his skin when she spoke with a low voice. “What do you know about the connection between the Gods – the real Gods – and the Valargon?”

“Not much,” Daemon responded, being able to feel the heat and harmony radiating off of her body had made him drunk in mere seconds, he could not think about anything but her. Anything else wandering his mind few seconds ago was gone. “I barely heard that the Valargon were the last beings to have seen the eternal light from the Land of the Old Gods.”

“That should suffice,” Lùthril muttered, more to herself. “Now, Daemon Targaryen, you shall look deep into my eyes and if you look close enough, you shall see the eternal light for I have spent very many years living under its grace.”

[POV Change]

The moment Daemon Targaryen looked into your eyes to see the remnants of the ancient light, you swiftly reached forwards through the bars, pressing your right thumb against his forehead. Before Daemon could react, his very essence started falling down into the eternal light still captured inside the beauty of your eyes.

You showed him all he needed to see so that he would be ready to trust you in the end. Daemon saw you dancing on the moon-lit-meadows of the Land of the Old Gods, barefoot and adorned in white silk, the eternal light was visible on the shore behind your shoulders. As you danced, you were singing a sweet song in the Language of the Gods, the melody made the grass bloom whenever you hit the right tone.

The next memory was from the Feast of the Gods – right under the eternal light, all the Gods and your kin were gathered around the wooden table, which was adorned with the finest of food known to mankind. The Valargon maidens were serving the wines they have made from the sweetest grapes, celebrating the harmony of life and joy. 

Lastly, you showed Daemon the day your kind left the Land of the Gods on your ships, sailing east through the western waters, never to return to your homeland. The Gods, too, had left the magical lands around that time – after deciding that the era of magic, melody and harmony was over for the first men had set foot on the Earth. 

When men came, the ancient magic left the world, never to return, only to exist in the memories of those lucky enough to have seen it. 

Slowly, you left go off Daemon, freeing him from the clutches of the eternal light. When his soul returned to his body, he stumbled backwards, fighting to find his balance again. It took him a few minutes to comprehend what he had just experienced, all the while you waited quietly and patiently. For you knew that whatever Daemon was to decide next, would shape his destiny greatly.

“You are one fucking enchantress, there I have no doubts,” Daemon spoke with his usual careless and dangerous aura surrounding him; however, you could easily see through his façade – he was desperate to know how you could aid him in his mission, you being perhaps the most powerful being in the Seven Kingdoms at that particular moment. “They were all… true?”

He was referring to the memories he had seen a few moments ago. You nodded at him. “Those were my memories from a long, long time ago.”

Daemon frowned. “There is, though, something I do not understand,” he spoke cautiously. “How did a fucking Valargon ended up in Simon fucking Strong’s dungeons? It doesn’t add up.”

Heaving a sigh, you let your body slide down the right wall until you were sitting on the cold, damp ground – not that it bothered you, you could hardly feel it. “The destiny of the Valargon had to end in flames when the first Targaryen King arrived in Westros on the back of the largest dragon known to mankind.”

“Aegon the Conquerer,” Daemon said quietly, you nodded. “A Targaryen killed all your people, I understand – then why are you alive?”

“We all tried to overcome what was destined for us – the eternal light had to survive to see the end of all days.” A mischievous spark was visible in your eyes for a brief moment. “Thus, we tried to alter the destiny.”

Daemon shook his head in disbelief at your words, even the Rogue Prince himself did not approve of such behaviour. “Only a fool would meddle with the strings of the fate.” Of course, when he understood what you actually meant, the expression on his face changed. “And the said fool is standing in front of me, right, enchantress?”

A bitter smile formed on your lips. “I did it – I managed to change the destiny. However, it came with a terrible price.” Even mentioning those horrifying moments made you shiver in your place, you would give the days of your remaining life to forget everything you had seen on that cursed day. “As you see, all my people are gone and I am held here captive ever since.”

Slowly, without even realising, Daemon found himself sitting on the ground right next to you, on the other side of the bars separating the two of you. “130 long years and you have never tried to escape?” He asked with a rather mocking tone, failing to notice the way you inhaled his scent. “No magic tricks?”

You shook your head, pointing at the bars. “Did you not realise the missing lock or the door? This cell is being held with powerful magic. Only the blood of the man imprisoning me can set me free.” You added. “And coming back to your very first question: the enchantress of Harrenhal uses magic to keep me hidden from the eyes of men. Perhaps she has failed to strengthen her magic at the right time, hence it faded and you were able to see me.”

You heard Daemon cursing at the witch of Harrenhal, apparently she was being called Alys Rivers as of late. “That cunt of a witch has been around here since the Conquest?” You shrugged at his words. “Fucking cunt,” he muttered under his breath before speaking to you again. “What will I gain if I set you free? Can you aid me in winning my battles? Can you pour fear into the hearts of my enemies?”

“I will use my magic to aid you; however, your fate has been decided by the Gods long ago, Daemon Targaryen.” You spoke with a powerful voice as you stood up, from the looks inside Daemon’s purple eyes, you realised that he was, for the first time, seeing you as the mighty Lùthril you were. “It is no longer in my power to change their judgement. If you will, I can guide you through what was written for you in times of hardship and doubt.”

It took Daemon Targaryen a considerable amount of time to arrive at a final decision, through which you waited patiently, giving him the space and the time to make perhaps the most important choice at the crossroads of his destiny. Finally, when he rose to his feet, a Targaryen King stood in front of your eyes, determination radiating off of him.

“What must I do?” Daemon asked, “to set you free?”

As you can notice, my inspiration for the reader has been heavily influenced by Lúthien and Galadriel 💜

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa @superintenseart

[arctrooper69]

Hello! I love your stories. Could I request a Drabble about Wrecker being a body guard for a Princess trope? She likes him but he doesn’t think she does. And if it fits “Can you lock the door please?” From your prompt list. Thanks!

Hello friend! I'm so so so sorry that it's taken so long for me to get this out to you! I've been sitting on this for probably about a year now. So sorry! Also... it turned into a full-blown 12 page fic instead of a drabble. Hope you enjoy!!!! 😂❤️🫂

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The Princess and the Wrecking Ball

Wrecker x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Loss due to wartime, small mention of blood. Mostly just some cute hurt/comfort 🥰

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

"Really Hunter?" complained Wrecker, "A princess?"

Hunter frowned and nodded. "Yes. Just for a few days." He looked around at the others for confirmation and they simply nodded.

"Why do you seem to be the only one that has a problem with this?" Hunter gestured to his brother with thinly veiled frustration. He'd never seen Wrecker this adverse to a mission before. Even when it required rappelling from treacherous heights.

"Because last time he met a princess he fell head over heels for her and she hated his guts." Crosshair spoke evenly as he sat on his bunk, cleaning his rifle.

Hunter frowned, looking back at Wrecker. "Is that what this is about?"

Wrecker looked down, shrugging nervously. He rubbed the back of his head. "I just don't like Princesses, okay? They think they're all that and then they look at you with those pretty eyes and you think you've got a chance, and you think they really like you and then they realize that you're a clone and call you a stupid, ugly mistake."

The group was silent.

Hunter cleared his throat, "Well, you don't have to get along with her. We're just supposed to transport her safely back to her uncle on Coruscant."

Wrecker crossed his arms, frowning, "Why do we gotta do it?"

"She's in danger, Wrecker." Echo explained, "and it's a favor for Senator Amidala."

"Why can't she do it?"

"She's a senator. She can't exactly sneak into Separatist territory."

"Besides," Hunter added, "The princess' uncle has offered us a lot of money to get her safely to him."

Crosshair looked up. "You mean, we're actually getting paid this time?"

"But - " protested Wrecker.

Hunter looked at him sharply. "We're going to get that princess and you're going to treat it just like another mission. That's an order. Got it?"

Wrecker groaned, "Yeah Sarge, I got it."

"Good. I don't want to hear another word about it from you."

"Do I at least get to blow something up?"

"We'll see."

Wrecker grumbled under his breath. Hunter narrowed his eyes at him but didn't say anything else.

"Well..." Tech spoke up, "Now that that's settled, I'm making a list of everything we need to requisition."

Tech held the datapad out to Echo. He looked over the list.

"I can't think of anything else."

"What about the princess?" Wrecker asked suddenly.

Crosshair sighed, "Here we go again..."

"Hey! I'm just tryin' to be helpful!"

Hunter closed his eyes, "What about her, Wrecker."

"Well uh.... Won't she need things too?"

Tech looked up, "I have included rations for an extra passenger on the way back. That will not be an issue."

Wrecker shifted awkwardly. "Yeah but... What about... women things?"

Crosshair choked on his caf.

Tech blinked, “What women things?”

Wrecker shrugged, “I saw some ad on Coruscant for it once. I don’t remember what it’s called. Think it happens like on a full moon or something, every couple rotations?"

Tech lowered the datapad in his hand to stare at his brother. “She is a woman, Wrecker... not a werewolf."

Hunter closed his eyes again and sighed, rubbing at his temples. Some days he wondered how exactly it was that they'd made it as commandos this long.

"I'm gonna go ahead and veto that one. I think it would be a little weird for a group of elite soldiers to have uh... women things.... on the ship."

Wrecker grumbled, "I was just trying to be helpful."

Crosshair nudged his shin with the butt of his rifle. "Lighten up, Wreck. We are literally getting paid to play taxi for a pretty princess. We could do this in our sleep." He chuckled, "Actually I'm pretty sure I have done something like this in my sleep."

Tech rolled his eyes. "Don't be an ass, Crosshair."

"At least I can get a woman's attention if I wanted to," he goaded.

Tech scoffed, "For your information, I have had several females ask for my com frequency."

"That's enough!" Hunter placed his hand firmly on the table. "Seriously guys? You're acting like a bunch of shiny regs. This is a mission. We're going to act like professionals."

"Have we ever really been professional?" quipped Tech.

Hunter sighed, "Let me rephrase that. We're going to do this just like we've done any other extraction. We get in, grab the target, get out. Got it?"

A chorus of "yes, sir"s announced the end of the discussion.

---

The smooth finish of the once beautiful wood floor felt cold on your cheek as you hid beneath the bed.

"Run! Run and don't look back!" Your mother's terrified voice echoed in your ears, and then the click of the lock as she pushed you into the back hall. Then the shrill scream she'd let out as the droids dragged her away. You'd only run when you heard the blaster fire.

One shot. Thud.

Your father and brother crying out in anguish.

Two shots. Thud. Thud.

Silence. Then voices - modulated and mechanical. Cold and calculating.

"Find the girl."

"Roger Roger."

You felt the dust creep up around your fingers, digging under your nails as you felt along the floor. It floated into your nose and down your throat, tickling and irritating. You suppressed a heavy sneeze that popped your ears, making you aware of every tiny noise. The metallic, icy fear that gripped your chest twisted every noise into something mechanical and violent.

It has to be here somewhere.

There.

Your fingers found purchase on a small, metal surface. The biometric lock whirred to life as you pressed your fingers to the surface.

A hatch hissed open revealing a small room in the wall beside the bed. You crawled out from under the bed, dusting off your pants. It felt naked, being out in the open like this. Dangerous. Vulnerable.

Deftly, you climbed into the hidden room and the hatch hissed closed behind you, locking you in. A dim light illuminated a small room. An emergency com device sat on a stool in the corner and a blaster hung on the wall. A ladder along the back wall led upwards. You had been here enough times with your father that you knew it led to the rooftop. But this time, it wasn't a drill and this time, you were alone.

You dialed the frequency.

A trooper sporting a red and white helmet appeared on the screen. Though you couldn't see his face, he seemed bored.

"This is a secure channel. You shouldn't have this number."

"I..." your voice left your lungs as barely a whisper.

"What's that?" He sounded annoyed now. A knot formed in the back of your throat.

"Speak clearly, please."

"I need to speak to my uncle." The words came out forced and choked.

"Look ma'am, this is a secure channel for GAR personnel only."

Someone said something in the background and the trooper turned, "...nothing, Sir. Just some civvie with the wrong number." He paused, listening to whoever was in the room with him. "...yeah she's trying to call her uncle or something. I'll handle it."

The screen shifted and suddenly instead of the trooper your uncle's face appeared.

"I... I need help." It took everything you had left in you not to burst into tears as you told him what happened. How the droid army came. How your father refused them. How they killed his family first and then him. How you ran and hid.

"Okay," Came his soft reply. "Okay. Keep the door locked and stay where you are. I'll send someone to come for you."

----

The message had come in only a matter of hours and now you waited, lying flat on the roof, for the ship to come carry you away.

Smoke rose in columns. You could smell the fires and tried not to think about the screaming. The people - your people - were dying and there you were, hiding away. Waiting for a rescue that the common citizen would have no hope of. Their choice was to surrender or die. They would die here.

Suddenly shouts rang out just below. "Hey! You! Stop!" The cold, whiny voice of a foot soldier. There was a scrambling of hurried footsteps as whoever they were chasing ran and tripped. You peered over the edge of the building.

"Hey! Where'd you go?" The battledroid sounded confused. Whoever it was chasing hid well.

You watched the figure slowly crawl, inching his way along the entrance to a garbage chute. There were only two ways for him to crawl. A dead end or the garbage chute. The droid seemed to suddenly notice this as well.

"Ha. Ha. You have nowhere to hide now."

He looked young - only a child. Maybe 12 or 13. He looked terrified.

Gritting your teeth, you made a decision you hoped you wouldn't regret.

"Hey!" You shouted. Both the boy and the droid looked up. "You leave him alone!"

"Look, it's the princess!"

"Wait, she's not supposed to be here!"

Kriff. There are more of them.

"I'll take care of her."

Both turned their blasters towards you. The boy was gone but now you'd given up your position.

Kriff. Now I'm dead.

You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the inevitable blast that would carry you back into the arms of your family.

---

The blast came louder than you'd expected - more painful too. Your head throbbed fiercely and ears rang loud enough to muffle the sounds of yelling and blaster fire. The ragged edges of the wall lay rough and cold as your fingers found purchase on its stones, gripping tightly to shakily pull yourself to your feet. Something wet and warm trickled down your forehead, stinging your eye. You hissed as your fingers found the small cut above your eyebrow, fingers coming away red and slick.

Someone was shouting.

"Princess! Princess!"

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

"Princess!"

That voice again, loud and deep - shredding through the thudding of your pulse and the ringing shock in your head.

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around you, yanking you from the ground where you stood.

Panic sprang from every pore in your body as you struggled against that impossible grip.

"Hey! Calm down! You're safe! I got ya!"

He was running. The world seemed to flow by as if you were watching it through someone else's eyes.

Smoke drifted through the sky. Fires burned hot and buildings lay broken and crumbled. The only thing that felt real were the strong arms of the man carrying you from the carnage. Away from everything you'd ever known.

---

Your eyes never left the burning horizon of your home until the vast blur of hyperspace wrenched it away. It was only then you found yourself taking a breath, gasping as if you'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Are you okay?" A figure knelt beside you, slowly drawing your gaze to him. Long, dark hair hung over a dirty red bandana. "My name's Hunter. That's Crosshair, Tech, and Echo." He pointed out each of his brothers, "and that's Wrecker. He's the one who brought you back here."

You looked up at him. The large man looked as if he wanted to say something but stopped.

Hunter got up to join his brothers, leaving you to sit alone on the bunk.

You winced, bringing a hand up to your forehead as the cut stung with the stale air of the ship. Wrecker's look of feigned indifference suddenly morphed to one of concern as he peered through the short passageway of the ship.

"Hey she's bleeding!"

Wrecker immediately grabbed the medscanner, turning towards you - then paused.

He glanced away, the urgent need to make sure you were okay, suddenly transformed into an anxious uncertainty. He rubbed the back of his head in a nervous gesture.

"Here you do it!" he grunted before violently shoving the device at Tech who fumbled it a nanosecond before deftly catching it with sturdy fingers.

Tech frowned, "You are perfectly capable of taking the scan yourself." He sighed as Wrecker averted his eyes. "...but I will take over from here if that is what you want."

"Thanks Tech... I - I just don't wanna make 'er uncomfortable, ya know... in case she's scared of me on account of how I'm... Ehh, you know..."

Tech raised an eyebrow. "I do not think that is a problem, but I'm sure she would appreciate your consideration."

---

Wrecker sat glumly on the floor, leaning against Gonky, watching as Tech headed back up to the cockpit. His eyes slowly lingered back to you as you sat on the edge of the bunk.

"See, she's staring!" whispered Wrecker, leaning over to Crosshair, "I don't think she likes me."

Crosshair shook his head. "She's just in shock. Her family was practically killed in front of her. She's scared."

You could hear them whisper, glancing over at the way you sat stiffly on the bunk he'd sat you on.

Wrecker, he said his name was. An apt name for his profession. Yet, contrary to the tales that Tech had regaled to you, Wrecker seemed to simmer to a calm around you - like any sudden movement might scare you away. The concern was nice, but unnecessary.

He'd seemed so passionate when he'd jumped to save you from that blast.

"Hold on!" he'd boomed. "I've got you!" And you believed him.

Wrecker - the calm within the storm, until he became the storm itself. That was a nice thought.

Lifting your feet onto the bunk, you curled into the thin mattress. You wouldn't sleep. You couldn't. If you closed your eyes, those sounds would haunt you again.

"Run!"

Screaming.

"No!"

Blaster fire.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

No sleep would come tonight if you could help it - but the heavy fluttering of your exhausted eyelids soon proved to be more than you could fight.

---

"She woke up screaming."

The words, supposed to be a whisper, echoed dimly from the cockpit into the bunk where you lay - not quite asleep, but not awake either.

"We all heard it, Wreck." Came the somber reply from their leader.

"Yeah." A moment of silence. "Think one of us should talk to her?"

"Maybe."

"Tech, you do it! You're good at knowing stuff."

"I am unsure if I would be a suitable candidate for a conversation on such a delicate matter. I can offer solutions to improve her sleep but I do not think that is the issue here. Perhaps Echo should be the one to talk to her?"

"I don't know..."

Another moment of uneasy silence.

"Aw, come on guys" Wrecker's loud voice complained.

"Shhhhhh!" Chorused his brothers.

"Oh. Sorry!" His whisper wasn't much quieter.

"Wrecker's right," Hunter spoke. "Someone should talk to her."

"Wrecker, you should do it." Offered Echo.

"Me!? Why? I'm no good at stuff like that!"

"Hmm.... Echo may be right. She does seem to have an emotional connection to you, Wrecker. More so than to us."

"Wha.... whaddya mean?"

"He means she likes you, Wrecker." His brother smacked him on the shoulder.

"Hey! She does not!"

Crosshair smirked, "Oh she definitely does."

Wrecker fervently shook his head, "Does not!"

"Does to! In fact, I heard her last night in the fresher." Crosshair's grin widened, "She was all 'oh Wrecker, ohhh'" he mimicked the sound of your voice in jest.

Wrecker froze. "She did not! Yer just making that up!" He glanced at Hunter. If anyone had heard anything it would've been him. Hunter glared at Crosshair, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine. I made that up. But..." he poked his brother in the gut with a boney finger. "I still think she likes you."

Wrecker frowned, rubbing a hand on the back of his bald head. He still looked unsure.

"Just get in there!" Crosshair kicked the back of his knee, causing him to stumble forward a few feet towards your bunk.

---

Wrecker sat awkwardly for a moment. He licked his lips. You blinked up at him, sleep still clouding your eyes in a confused daze.

He took a breath. He could do this.

It took you a few moments to fully wake, and another few to realize that Wrecker was sitting on his bunk, staring at you. A rush of heat stirred butterflies through your stomach - a feeling that had become all too familiar since being aboard this ship.

Wrecker looked nervous.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. He was still staring. "Uhh... Can I help you with something, Wrecker?"

"You dream bad." He blurted out.

Huh? A look of confusion crossed your face as a look of horror overtook his own.

"No! I mean.... I mean..." He shouted.

You jumped, startled.

He cleared his throat, looking mortified. "I mean... Ya... You..." he stuttered miserably. "Ya had a bad dream and I was just wonderin' if you were okay." He looked down, "That's all." He gulped. Great, he blew it. "I'll uh... I'll leave ya alone now."

He turned towards the cockpit, face red with embarrassment.

"Wait..." Your voice called out from behind him. "Wrecker wait...."

He paused.

"I... I think it was really sweet of you to come see if I was okay."

He heard you shift on the bunk, sitting up to swing your legs over the side.

"I... I'm sorry if I woke you up."

You sounded sad and Wrecker felt his heart crack. He turned back around, sitting down on his bunk again, facing you.

"Nah, I was already up." He chuckled, that explosive grin reappeared across his face. "Besides, it's pretty impossible to wake me up. Just ask Tech. One time him 'n Crosshair made a bet to see what they could do to make me wake up."

You giggled, the icy fear that gripped your chest began to warm. "What ended up waking you up?" You asked, genuinely curious. "Who won the bet?"

Wrecker grinned. "Crosshair did. He put a tooka treat in my ear and left the ship open. It was when we landed on Lotho Minor. There's lots of tookas around there."

You giggled, imagining a sleeping Wrecker surrounded by an army of tiny mewing tookas.

He was silent again and you felt those angry claw sneak their way around you again, freezing through your veins. Wrecker must have noticed, his smile faded.

"Didja wanna talk about it? Or..." he trailed off.

You shivered and leaned into him. Without thinking, he put his arm around you, pulling you closer - keeping you warm.

"I... It's just a lot to process." You said softly. "I just keep remembering. I keep hearing them die."

Wrecker didn't say anything. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see somethin' like that. Yer a princess. Yer supposed to go ta parties and drink those fancy juice things and eat those tiny sandwiches."

You sighed, "It's not all just parties and fancy stuff all the time, you know."

Wrecker sat up, looking at you. "It's not!?"

"No," you chuckled. "Sometimes it's sitting in on a really boring meeting. Sometimes it's learning how to fire a blaster in case you have to defend yourself."

"Whoa..."

You smiled sadly, "Lots of people don't like me when they hear I'm a princess. I think they think, that I think I'm better than them or something."

"That's a lot of thinkin'" Wrecker replied, not meeting your eyes. You chuckled.

It was silent again.

Wrecker cleared his throat, “I uhh… I think I know what you mean.”

You looked at him quizzically.

“A lotta people - “ Wrecker started, then paused. “Well, most people actually. They think I’m stupid just because I’m big and kinda slow with words and stuff.”

You frowned. “But aren’t you the demolition expert? You blow stuff up, right?”

Wrecker grinned at that, momentarily forgetting the awkward seriousness of the conversation before. “You bet I do!”

His smile was contagious and you found it inflicting its endearing passion across your own face. “Well then you can’t be dumb, silly!” you teased. “Don’t you have to be super smart to learn to build and disable all those explosives?”

Wrecker paused, “I dunno…”

You cut him off. “And not to mention the chemistry and physics and numbers it takes to do what you do so well!”

Wrecker shifted brushing his hand against your leg. You froze, suddenly realizing exactly how close you were to him - how his arm draped warmly around your back. The unexpected contact seemed to leave you breathless.

What was this?

Your skin seemed to burn where he'd touched you. You looked up at him.

This mountain of a man had saved you without even ever having met you before. He'd charged right into blaster fire, scooping you up as though you weighed nothing and he did it all with a smile on his face. You let out a shaky breath, shivering as he shifted and brushed against you once more.

Immediately, Wrecker jumped to his feet, realizing his mistake.

"I... I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare ya or... or touch ya... I..." He stuttered, "I... I'm such a..."

You looked up at him wide-eyed. "Wait! Wrecker stop!"

He paused, looking down miserably.

Now it was your turn to blush, "I... I didn't mind it." You said quietly, looking down at your feet.

He still looked unsure.

"I like being around you, Wrecker. You make me feel safe."

He looked down to where you patted the spot on the bunk beside you.

"You sure?" He asked tentatively.

You nodded, "I'm sure."

"You wanna know something funny?" He asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he sat again.

"What?" You smiled, leaning towards him.

"I thought you weren't going to like me... Just like you thought we weren't gonna like you."

"Of course I like you, Wrecker! And I'm really glad you were the one to find me."

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

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[serensama]

Head over Feet

I had to get a plot bunny out after playing DA:VG before I could refocus on my other story, but now this is done, I have another hundred stories I want to write. God damn it. Written as little vignette type scenes, just too lazy to split up into seperate parts. And yes, I listened to Alanis Morrisette's song whilst writing this.

Read on Ao3 Rook was a clutz. 

The biggest walking disaster he’d ever seen; but it was something that made her so quintessentially Rook, he worried he wouldn’t recognise her if she wasn’t tripping over or teetering over a cliff’s edge. 

Lucanis didn’t know how it happened. 

At first he was underwhelmed. Then concerned- but somehow it became funny. Suddenly, unbeknownst to him, it had become endearing. 

How could her falling- be a reason to fall in love? 

It made no sense. 

Neither did the way she looked at him. 

Like he was a fallen angel and not a rising demon. 

Mierda.

---

Everything about her was a surprise. 

From the moment that she had blasted into the Ossuary and into his life, he had been caught off guard. He had been taught from a young age that surprises and being unprepared resulted in death, so instead of gratitude he offered her suspicion. She took it in stride, her bright smile, clothes and jewellery shone like a beacon of hope he hadn’t dared to have since his imprisonment. 

That hope quickly lost some of its shiny veneer by the third time the woman- Rook- had gotten too close to a ledge, or lost her footing or fell too short from a run up and had to cling on for her life by her fingertips. Still, he gave her the benefit of the doubt, Caterina believed she could get him out of that hell and he knew the First Talon would not take any unnecessary risks if it meant getting him back … and back in line to inherit her title. Perhaps it was the magic of the Ossuary that meddled with Rook’s equilibrium and whatever was sustaining it affected her more than her companion, Bellara. 

When they returned to Treviso he still wished to give her a chance to prove him wrong. What with the change of pressure resurfacing from the depths of the sea and any lingering effects of Venatori magic… but after a week of travelling with their leader, he was certain it was more of a “Rook” thing than anything else. Still, hapless or not, he would not discredit her skills, if she was a contract, it would not be one he would take with confidence. Unless he could guarantee the fight was on a tightrope. Or required her to jump from place to place at great height, perhaps over a volcano. 

---

He had lost count how many times in Minrathous he almost had to swoop down to save her… he debated whether he should have forbidden her from doing anything but walking on the sidewalks whenever they were in Treviso, but decided against saying anything to their sometimes clumsy, but well-meaning leader. It was in Rivain, however, where he had wished that he had listened to his instincts.  

She leapt from rock to rock easily enough, her excitement at being back home clear from her joyous laughter; but he was far too invested in his ongoing verbal spar with Davrin, offering to shove the Grey Warden’s sword and shield where even the darkspawn would not go- when he heard the splash. 

And learned a frightening, little known fact about Rook.  

She did not know how to swim. 

A Lord of Fortune, who fearlessly flitted between cliffs, rocks and buildings like a bird- previously a Tevinter galley slave - could not swim.

This woman.  

He had not expected the fear that overcame him when he rushed to the ledge and found only bubbles and ripples. Her arm reached out to him as she pushed herself up from the water, eyes wide with desperation as she took her last gulp of air before sinking back to the depths of the sea. 

Lucanis had never heard spite scream in his head so loudly, not even in the Ossuary as they were both tortured endlessly. Both he and Davrin had followed her into the water, thankful that she was not yet out of their reach. 

After coughing up an alarming amount of water – she was nearly taken from us!- true to Rook form, she laughed it off. She said something glib and acted like it was no big deal she had almost drowned right in front of them. But it was a big deal. Instead of the scent of the lavender oil she wore, she smelled of saltwater and fear, and Spite did not like that. And for once, Lucanis silently agreed. 

--- He broached the topic with her after the third time he bore witness to her dangling on the roots and vines connecting Harding’s room, slowly pulling herself back onto the shockingly ‘perilous’ path. He understood that whilst their dwelling, courtesy of the Dread Wolf, accommodated their needs and served them well, he was not sure how safe they really were on the floating property. 

That was to say, if one were to fall off the edges (Rook… or perhaps Manfred), he feared that they would continue falling through the Fade with nothing to stop them. Lucanis could picture it clearly, Rook in a perpetual free fall, disappearing and reappearing every so often like some sort of screaming cloud.  “Do you hold such little regard for your life? You are a powerful mage, but it would do you good to be a little more careful, Rook. Maybe look a little closer before you leap,” he said when she ventured into the pantry. Like clockwork- always coming to him last after checking in on everyone. 

“I am careful, but I also have faith and I always need to try. Even if I end up looking stupid or get hurt, at least I tried,” she replied with a shrug, her attention caught by the new sample of cheeses he brought back from the markets. Lucanis clucked his tongue and shook his head, taking in the scent of the slowly cooling coffee in his cup.

“Careful? Careful she says!” he snorted incredulously, “how can you say that when I saw you jump from that third floor balcony a week ago after playing with those light beams- all for the sake of more treasure?”

“-I thought that it was a chance to learn more about Solas, not treasure!” “Or just yesterday when you slipped on Harding’s path and I flew down to catch you? It makes me wonder how you survived all these years without your own personal demon to save you?”

Rook paused and turned her head to survey him with a stunned expression. It quickly morphed into amusement and he could practically taste the sass she was about to deliver. 

“Are you my personal demon now, Lucanis?” Rook saw a flash of Spite at the back of Lucanis’ eyes as he peered at her from over the rim of his cup, taking a long sip of coffee, both question and answer hanging in the air between them.  Personal demon? I like that. Say yes!

“Why are you always so worried?”

“Why aren’t you worried enough?” 

“Falling is okay, you know, because it teaches us how to get back up again, Lucanis. I’m scrappy and used to not being perfect all the time. Maybe you should try it sometime. Fall with me- I’ll help you up, promise.” 

 “You want me to fall… with you?”

“Or for me. I’m good with either.” 

--- After an unexpectedly taxing fight to get rid of the gaatlok around Treviso, their team managed to make it back to the Cantori Diamond in one piece. Taash was nursing a dislocated shoulder from an Antaam who caught them unawares and Rook, with a gash on her head she hastily knitted back together for Emmrich to look at upon their return. He had tried to convince her to take his emergency healing draught he always kept tucked away, however she stubbornly refused “in case there was more trouble coming back through the city”, in case they needed it more than her. 

They were crossing the narrow walkway on the way back to the eluvian when Rook swooned mid-step and plummeted from the great height. He did not recognise the sound of his cry as he dove, catching her mere metres away from the marble floor. His voice echoed throughout the casino, alarming Crow and patron alike into silence. Teia and Viago were the first to collect themselves, smart enough to continue their conversation as if nothing had happened at all. Jacobus and Chance coughed awkwardly into their hands to hide the small smiles upon their faces, not game enough to offend the First Talon’s grandson. 

His reaction did not come as a surprise to those who had spent any time with both of them together, Teia had a running bet as to when they would finally venture into something more than friendship. She was currently in the lead, whereas Viago had already lost, believing his comrade would have already fallen and confessed to the jewel-clad mage. Lucanis however was mortified. Everyone knew his greatest weakness was his family, and with his public emotional outburst followed by his immediate exit through the eluvian with Rook safely in his arms, he all but confirmed that Rook was now part of that family- and probably in even more danger because of it. 

No matter, he would foil any harm that came to her whether it be from impact, or contract. 

---

Their team stumbled through the Eluvian, assuming they would be back in the Lighthouse but found themselves in the Hall of Valor instead. Harding looked up at Rook who had been the first to dart into the magical portal, influencing where they were all sent. “Why did we come here? Wouldn’t it have been better to perhaps have the Caretaker spirit look at it? Maybe it can fix-” “This is Rivaini armour Harding, I only trust my people to fix it!” she quipped, rushing through the tunnels with both arms clutching her loose breastplate to her chest. The dwarf shrugged at Lucanis and ran after their friend, both perplexed as to why she did not wish to go back to their Fade home and change into something instead of running around half naked... though being in Rivain not many people would have batted an eye at seeing an eye full of Rook. Lucanis could feel Spite bristle at the idea and could feel his demonic passenger’s wings ready to pop out at a moment’s notice to shield any prying eyes. Even his own. 

The Crow kept his eyes fixed upon the merchant who had not even noticed his customer’s predicament, just senselessly prattling on about how amazing Rook was during the last time she attended the arena with Taash and Neve, and how he had wished he could have been there to watch them take down a dragon near the coast. 

Lucanis stopped listening and focused on the broken straps that lay fallen on either side of her back. As talented as his... friend... was at the arcane arts, the real magic was in the way that armour had managed to stay on and protect her at all. It was just a leather strap and some scales placed in the most ridiculous places, how it managed to keep her alive with all the sentinels, darkspawn, Venatori, Antaam and dragons after her he would never understand. At least her other Rivaini outfit had a stylish cape. 

“... don’t forget Rook, we’re on our way back to Hossberg, you may want to find something a little more... more? Evka and Antoine said there were more blight cysts to take care of and-” “Yes Mother Harding, I’ll make sure I’m covered.” “Fine, get blighted, see if I care... oh no that was too mean. I don’t mean that, I don’t want anyone to be blighted.” “Relax Harding, I know,” Rook chuckled as the former scout visibly relaxed. “I’ll take that one Mateo, I’ve not seen it before.” 

The two women disappeared into a tunnel and had Lucanis guard the pathway so no one could walk in on the changing mage. When she walked past him to order a repair of her armour, he had to remind Spite to pick up his jaw from the floor. Indigo hued leather from top to toe, plumage around her shoulders to draw in everyone’s gaze to her very exposed decollete, the sash around her waist cinching her deliciously to encourage his eyes to wander down the curve of her hips...  She looked like a Crow. She looked like she belonged with him. 

“Well Lucanis, what do you think? Maybe in another life, I could’ve been a Crow?” she asked, exaggeratingly twirling around until a smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “Why not this one?” he replied. “Are you asking for my last name to become Dellamorte?”

Harding suppressed her giggle and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling expectantly.  “Well... I...” “I guess I could always be a Cantori, Teia has been offering since I met her. Or a De Riva, Viago was quite kind to me when we had dinner the other night-” “When… why… did you have dinner alone with Viago?” “Or maybe I can make a ninth house? The House of Rook!” she chimed happily, ignoring the deadpan stare of the assassin behind her. As well as the dip in the rocks which almost had her  falling down the stairs into the bar below. Lucanis was at her side in an instant, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her back with practised ease. “Or maybe we’re just getting ahead of ourselves a little. First learn to walk in the shoes of a Crow, before trying to fly, eh Rook?” he grinned, pulling her closer to him. 

Like you, Lucanis. Two birds. Together. Same. 

“Well, I’ve already wriggled into the pants of a Crow today, it shouldn't be too hard to manage the boots.” 

---

“You’re more than what you’re going through and you wear it well.” 

She was breaking him down. Time and again, any walls she found, she broke them. Any doors in her way, magically opened by her whims alone. He had stayed away from her the moment that Spite had shown a special interest in her, convinced himself it was best for both of them... but who was he against the force of nature that was Rook? If Gods themselves took note of her, feared what she could do, what was one mortal man with a knife? He may not be able to kill a cloud-face god, but he may yet temper her.  “This isn't a good idea,” he cautioned himself more than her, unable to fight the pull she had over him any longer.  “Sometimes a bad idea is better,” she purred, one eyebrow cocked.  “You like to walk a little too close to the edge,” he grinned back at her, enjoying the way her cheeks lightly flushed in the dim lighting of his quarters. He had long imagined the pretty way her hair would fan across the pillow or the way her voice would sound crisper as they bounced off the stone walls...  “So do you,” she remarked, lightly skimming her finger over his vest.  “At least I know I’m doing it…” he continued, closing the remaining space between them, his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of her eyes shut and head tilted back to accept him, lips slightly open ready for... but what if she didn’t realise what she was doing? What if he was the only one who again knew that they were walking along the edge, and she didn’t realise the mistake she was making- and he was the only one who could save her? Lucanis pulled away just a breath away from the feel of her mouth on his and turned away from her in panicked shame.

“I need to clear my head, excuse me.”

The Crow let himself steal one more glance of her and felt the keen stab of regret in his gut from the way her shoulders fell in disappointment. Again.   ---

“Neve, in the Fade with Rook and Spite, you were there. I mean not you, but you know what I mean. You helped Rook. Sort of.” “Sort of? Well isn’t that flattering. At least I’m on your mind,” the detective replied, smiling at him. 

“You are. And not just then.” 

“I... oh. Well then.”

He was about to continue when a soft gasp caught his attention, snapping his head toward the sound. 

Rook had slipped on the fallen log-turned-bridge on their way back to the Veil Jumpers’ camp. She landed on her wrist and excused herself, violently pulling away from him and his offer to bandage up her hand. Citing that she was fine and that she could do it. 

‘Everything was fine’, even though she stalked ahead of them, never quite letting him or Neve walk beside her. 

“Let her cool off, Lucanis. She is probably feeling embarrassed by this all,” the ice mage said calmly. 

“I... I simply meant you were on my mind a lot since what happened in Minathous with the dragon. I always think, what if Rook hadn’t chosen to save Treviso and how I would have fared in your situation? I admire your strength and focus.” “I appreciate the sentiment... but I don’t think that’s how Rook took what you said. If I didn’t hear it that way...” 

“How did you take-.... Mierda.” 

Neve looked at him sympathetically. Traversing the crossroads or managing his relationship with the literal demon inside of him proved to be less befuddling than trying to navigate his path toward Rook. 

He did not fail to notice how she had remained quiet throughout the rest of the journey upon her return, nor did he miss the way that she stuck next to the Grey Warden and his gryphon, Assan doing his best to keep him a fair distance away from her.  I can kill the cat bird, Lucanis. And the muscle elf too. Make her listen. Understand.

No, Spite. She is allowed to speak to her friends. 

But she smells of tears and herbs. You hurt her.

She fell Spite, I did not push her or mean to cause her any harm, you know this. I would never.  

You hurt her. Because she fell for you. 

Lucanis allowed himself to slow down and watch her as she fought with herself not to look back at him. Her eyes were glassy and the skin around them a little red. He was not fool enough to believe that the pain from her wrist was enough to make her cry. 

You. It was you, Demon Crow. 

---

She had been calling his name- HIS NAME- when she was tricked into the Fade by that cursed Dread Wolf. 

He called back frantically, but she was already gone. 

The team searched everywhere on that fucking island but could not find her. He didn’t even have time or capacity to properly mourn the loss of Harding, he could only think of Rook being somewhere he couldn’t get to, screaming for his help. 

Spite had taken over more than he cared to admit, the demon doing its best to offer his host, partner, any respite he could offer. It was a boon at the start but he soon his mind reflected within the Fade to create his own personal torture chamber, tailored to his every regret. Everywhere were things that reminded him of Rook and every moment he wasted between them. 

It had been days. And then weeks. Bellara kept a daily count to remind them (him) of everyday they (he) continued to fail her. 

He could not save her, like she had for him. He had started to lose all the hope she had instilled into him, part of him bitter that she had done so at all. Angry at himself for thinking it may have been alright to dream of something more than what had been planned for him, that he could choose her and even a life without the Crows…  

But when the third week passed without hearing her voice, and he feared that maybe he had already begun to forget what it sounded like... Emmrich cried out excitedly and pulled her out, tired and scared. 

When she fell forward into his awaiting arms, he wanted to cry from relief. Grateful and thanking the Maker, he silently promised that she would never fall anywhere, in the Fade or in the physical world- without him there to catch her. 

---

She kept her promise. He helped her kill a god, and she waited for him in her bed with arms wide open, beckoning him to lay beside her. To sleep next to the woman he loved, without any fear, was more than enough reward for him. Saving the world was just a bonus. 

The sound of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against his, the strong and steady beat of her heart pressed against his back as she held him tightly. He didn’t care how battered and bruised he was, nothing felt better than being allowed sanctuary within her embrace. 

He slept deep and well, something he couldn’t remember doing since before his training as a Crow. So it was a pleasant surprise that for the first time since meeting him, Rook had caught him teetering too close to the edge of the bed and snatched him up before he fell on his face. He smiled as she tightened her hold on him, throwing a leg over him playfully, promising that he was safe and to go back to sleep through her own yawns. 

Lucanis was happy. Happy she was the type of person who could trip over air and fall freely, because all that time, she was trying to teach him how to do it himself. To fall back and know that someone was there to catch you. Just in a very different, wonderful, way. 

“It’s still early Luca… stop thinking too much and sleep love,” she murmured into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his skin before succumbing to her exhaustion once more. 

Luca? That’s new. 

I have been called many things, this one I like, but I have another title I like much more. 

Crow? Personal demon? Demon of Vyrantium? First Talon?

Rook’s. 

[redrose10]

oh pleaaaase i think this would hit!

Can you pretty please do-about the prompt game-

au!12 neighbors not really neighbors (like, funnily they meet ever single time at the same local 7eleven or supermarket idk, they live on the same block, trope 9, first 49 with 66 and then 28,15 last 33 (66 and all last three nsfw) with Nam or Jin whoever you like. Could you pls add reader is like short height? THANK YOUUUUU take care xx

I hope this is what you were looking for and you like it!

< The Cookie Jar >

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Neighbors, Stranger to Lovers

#49 “I need some assistance here.”

#66 “That’s illegal.”

#28 “We can’t do that here!”

#15 “Well fine just this once.”

#33 “Oh kitten…you’ve really never done this before?”

*******************************************************

“Eggs, flour, butter…eggs, flour, butter…eggs, flour, butter.”

You were repeating this to yourself over and over hoping that you wouldn’t forget anything. It was late and you were exhausted and just wanted to get home to have some dinner and relax, but you were required to be an adult first and get some groceries since it was your turn to bring cookies for your jobs weekly cookie jar. It was a dumb thing that management came up with to try and boost morale because that made more sense to them than just giving everyone a raise or some extra time off. Either way it was mandatory and not something you could get out of without ending up in a meeting with HR.

Normally you would just buy premade cookies but your boss informed you that it wasn’t fair to the others that actually took the time to make the cookies homemade so you had to stop.

You weren’t in any mood to play Betty Crocker so you were making a simple Snickerdoodle that only needed a few ingredients and you hoped you could just remember all of them before you walked out of the store.

Groaning when you saw the price of the butter you stared at your options hoping to find something on sale or with a coupon.

“This is a really good brand.”, a deep voice spoke slightly startling you. The man was pointing at a random box of butter.

“Is it?”, you chuckled, “I have to make cookies for work, but didn’t expect butter to cost me to promise my first born child.”

The man laughed, giving you the first glimpse of his beautiful smile with dimples included.

“Yeah I’m not much of a baker myself, but I’ve heard my mom complain quite a bit about how the prices are insane.”

“Glad I’m not the only one then.”, you laughed.

He reached down and grabbed one of the cartons of butter and handed it to you.”, She uses this one and I can confirm she makes the best cookies every time.”

You placed the carton in your cart., “I mean…I think you might be a little biased but I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckled and gave you a smile before walking away towards the registers. You spent the rest of the evening thinking about the handsome stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

“Stupid job, stupid cookies, stupid boss, stupid Hobi, stupid stupid stupid.”, you grumbled as you picked up a shopping basket. It was once again your turn to bring cookies for the dreaded cookie jar. Thanks to your coworker Hobi abruptly quitting it was also your turn a week sooner than you had planned. Luckily you had most of the ingredients from last time still sitting in your pantry. All you needed were chocolate chips and sugar.

After you grabbed your two items you decided to stop in the prepared foods section to get something for dinner to make it easier on yourself. You were so deep in thought trying to decide between the sesame noodles or the chicken teriyaki that you didn’t even notice someone standing next to you until they spoke, “Get the sesame noodles. The teriyaki tastes weird.”

You looked up to see the same guy from a few weeks ago walking past you, dimples once again on display. By the time your brain registered what happened and that you should go after him to finally get his name he was already walking out of the store. You grabbed the noodles and headed for the exit so you could finally go home to sulk while you baked some chocolate chip cookies.

You actually enjoyed baking when it was on your own terms and you didn’t have to hear the office go on and on about how amazing the cookies that Jin brought are, because his wife owns a bakery so OF COURSE they’re going to be amazing.

So when your best friend asked you make her favorite chocolate cake and come over with a tub of ice cream after her boyfriend dumped her, you didn’t even think twice.

The cake was sliding from side to side and the ice cream was already melting and you regretted grabbing those two bottles of wine because they were heavier than you thought so you were very glad that your friend lives just a three minute walk down the street from you.

You were trying to punch in the code to unlock the door when you heard a very familiar voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Looks like you’ve upgraded from cookies to cake huh?”

You were standing speechless staring at the beautiful man you somehow keep running into.

Just then your friend opened the door hearing the voices outside, “There you are! Oh hey Joonie! Hi Yoongs and Kook.”

It wasn’t until then did you realize there were two other guys standing off to the side and they were almost as handsome as “Joonie”. It made you question what they were putting in the water at this apartment complex.

“Joonie?”, you questioned with a brow raise.

He chuckled, “Yeah sorry about that. We’ve never been introduced. I’m Namjoon and those are my roommates Yoongi and Jungkook.”

You gave a small wave before turning your attention back to Namjoon so you could introduce yourself, “Y/N.”

Somehow or another you and your friend were invited over to Namjoon’s for pizza and drinks. It was all kind of a blur and you were too focused on finally getting to know the guy you’ve been crushing on for a while.

At some point the wine had become too much so you went to stand out on the balcony and get some fresh air. After a little while you started to sober up and feel much better. The door slid open and out came Namjoon. He smiled handing you a soft blanket and took a seat next to you. It seemed like he was sobering up at well.

“I’m sorry I never properly introduced myself. It was like my brain melted every time I saw you.”, he chuckled. “It’s okay. My brain didn’t seem to want to function either.”

A slight breeze moved through the air causing you to shiver. Namjoon moved a little closer wrapping his arm around you to help shield you from the wind.

You took the time to look him over but it was like he had the same idea as he was already staring at you and beginning to lean in which you reciprocated.

One kiss turned into two turned into soft moans and hands exploring each others body.

“Do you want to take this further?”, he asked pulling away.

You did. You figured you could make it to your place in less than five minutes or maybe even his room, but could hear a karaoke session going on inside so you knew everyone was still awake and would definitely know what was going on if you two walked back to his room. But it was something you were willing to deal with later.

“Yeah let’s do it.”, you nodded.

You squealed in surprise when he started unbuttoning your shirt. He struggled with the third button. “I need some assistance here.”, he laughed trying to hide his frustration.

“Namjoon, we can’t do that here!”, you exclaimed feeling your entire body flush at the thought.

He surprisingly pouted, “Why not?”

“Well for one thing, It’s illegal. We’re out in the open. People could see us.”

“It’s only illegal if we get caught and who’s gonna see? It’s like 2am. Everyone around here is already asleep or not even home.”

He had a point, but you were still unsure. The last thing you needed was a criminal charge on your record, but one look at his growing bulge had your mind going hazy with want.

“Look baby.”, he said in his deep raspy voice that wasn’t making it any easier for you to say no. He continued, “Y/N I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with so we can end it here or we can go as far as you’d like but if we go in there we’ll have to walk past all of them and they’ll definitely know what we’re doing. It’s up to you.”

You loved that he was so willing to do what made you comfortable. Most guys would’ve already up and left if you hadn’t agreed immediately so the fact that he was still there and talking you through it made you want to give into him even more.

“I just…I’ve never done anything like this before…out in the open like this.”, you added the last part quickly to make sure he knew you weren’t a virgin, you just weren’t normally into public sex.

“That’s okay. Like I said whatever you want.”, he whispered giving you a comforting smile.

You swallowed thickly before nodding, “Well fine, just this once. What’s the worst that could happen?”

His lips connected back to yours as he nodded, “I can deal with that.”

Feeling suddenly brave you climbed over taking a seat on his lap. You continued your movements by placing kisses beginning at his jaw and moving down to his neck and then chest.

He finished undoing the buttons of your shirt before helping you slide the material off. Your bra followed soon after. The cold air immediately causing your nipples to pebble and Namjoon wasted no time attaching his mouth to one. The sensation causing you to moan louder than you had intended. Your hand quickly covered your mouth as Namjoon smirked still sucking at your breast. You continued to move your hips using the friction to help provide some relief.

“Y/N.”, Namjoon groaned as you hit a particularly good spot. You thought you had heard a door open causing you to freeze worried that someone had heard the two of you.

“Oh kitten…you’ve really never done this before?”, he asked after noticing your skin turn reddish and your still unsure movements.

“No.”, you shook your head feeling a little embarrassed.

“That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Want me to walk you through it? Will that help ease your nerves?”

You nodded thankful that he was willing to take charge.

“Okay.”, he kissed you, “Get down on your knees in front of me.”

You did as he said. The balcony was small with not a lot of room to navigate but thanks to your shorter height you were able to snuggle in and fit in-front of him with ease. Your hands placed on his thighs as you waited for his next instructions.

“Now undo my belt…unzip my pants.”

You did as he said hoping he couldn’t see the very slight shake into your hands.

“That’s it baby girl. Now take my cock out… nice and slow.”

The sheer girth shocked you. He was hot and heavy in your hand. Your mouth began to drool, something no other man had ever made you do in this position.

“I know…I know. But you can handle it. Now go ahead and lick.”

You gave a few kitten licks to the tip making sure to lap up the beads of precum as they formed.

“Tha-That’s it baby. F-Fuck yeah. Go ahead and take it all in.”

He was already such a mess for you that it turned you on to a level you had never been. Your arousal was soaking through your panties to the point it was uncomfortable. You started to run your tongue from his base to tip before moving up again to suck him off like your life depended on it.

The sounds he was making increased your confidence and suddenly the prospect of getting caught didn’t seem so scary.

You focused your attention back to Namjoon giving his balls a light squeeze before swirling your tongue around his tip. You jumped a little when you felt his hand reach down and cradle one of your breast giving your nipple a light tug, “Mmmm Y/N. You’re doing so well kitten.” He leaned down and kissed your mouth savoring the taste of himself on your lips before he leaned back and you moved down to continue your bobbing up and down on his length.

Namjoon grabbed a hand full of your hair and pushed you down on his cock making you gag. His head rolled against the chair as he felt his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Is…is that okay?”, he asked through gasps. He pulled his hand away feeling guilty for not checking with your first. You didn’t want to stop so you took his hand and placed it at the back of your head giving him your silent approval to do it again. He gently, but firmly began to thrust into your mouth as you widened your jaw as much as you could allowing him to use you for his own pleasure, enjoying the way he nearly growled every time he got you to gag on him.

“I’m close Y/N. Fuck I’m close. Wh-where do you want it?”

“Tits…tits.”, you scrambled to say panting and drooling and barely able to form a coherent thought.

You moved your attention back to his length once again licking up and down before wrapping your mouth around him determined to bring him to his orgasm. He was close. You could feel his thighs tensing under your hands. A few beads of sweat were running down his forehead even though the weather was cool. His thrusts into your mouth became more and more erratic.

He said your name in a long drawn out moan before swiftly moving you off of him and rapidly jerking himself off with his right hand as his left hand came down to squeeze your breast.

“O-Okay. I’m coming.”, he gritted at his body began to shake.

You leaned closer squeezing your breasts together and watched as the the warm white liquid shot out before collecting in your cleavage.

Namjoon sat back trying to catch his breath before helping you up off of the ground.

“Y/N that was…wow that was unbelievable.”, he huffed using the blanket to help clean you up, “If you…uh if you want to lay down I’d be more than appy to return the favor.”

You smiled at the hint of shyness in his voice because where did the confident, in control man from a few minutes ago go.

“Actually…”, you shook your head, “If you want…my place is just a couple minute walk from here. We could head over there.” After that display you wanted him fully inside of you and you wanted to savor the moment and to take your time. You’re apartment was the best place for that.

His eyebrows lifted up in surprise before he laughed, “Well I wish I would have known that from the start. We could’ve just went there.” You both giggled at the realization before grabbing your things to walk over to your place completely forgetting that there were a group of people in the living room.

“Hey where are you guys going?”, your friends asked when they finally noticed the two of you heading to the door.

You panicked trying to come up with an excuse so that they wouldn’t know you two were going to have sex. Looking around the room your eyes caught sight of the half eaten cake on the counter.

“Cookies! Namjoon really wants to try some of my cookies so we’re gonna head over to my place so I can get some baked up.”

“That’s not fair. I want cookies too.”, Jungkook pouted as he waited for the next round of his game to load.

“They’re not making cookies you idiot. They’re going to have sex.”, Yoongi snorted not even looking up from his phone.

You could feel your body burn up and Namjoon didn’t seem to be fairing much better judging by his pink cheeks.

You said goodbye before quickly shuffling Namjoon out the door so they couldn’t ask any more questions.

“You know…cookies actually sound pretty good right now.”, he smiled as you were walking towards your apartment.

“Well luckily for you I have a cookie jar always stocked.”, you laughed opening your door.

He leaned down to capture you in a kiss and pushing you inside, “Is that so? Well then I’d definitely like to get a taste.”

“You’re welcome to my cookie jar any time.”

[marypaol]

One With The Wind

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has a fear of heights and doesn’t understand what all the hype about flying around is about, until she asks Fred to show her.

Warnings: Playful teasing? Friends to “lovers”, Acrophobia (fear of heights), that’s all I know of.

Note: For the lovely @marriinachoo -I hope this was enough fluff for you! (And I hope you enjoy it- thanks again for requesting!!)

Masterlist

Request Requirments

“I still don’t understand how you guys do that.” The girl said while the two flaming haired boys discussed the famous Wizard game every boy and girl wanted to try (besides her.) Putting a spoonful of food into her mouth, she looked up at the two.

The red head in front of her raised an eyebrow in question, and the replica of him did the same, making her laugh.

“Do what?” George asked.

She waved her utensil in front of her as a way to gesture to the two twins.

“You know, climb on a stick and go into the air in intention of beating a ball to other students; potentially killing them.”

The two boys laughed in unison despite her seriousness, so much so you couldn’t tell the difference between them and their laughs. They both smiled wide, the noise of happiness filling her ears as she watched them. Their heads turning to each other, eyes meeting with a mirror image as they only chuckled harder when the other person made a funny face that set them off.

“First off, love, it’s a broomstick, and we’re Beaters. That’s our job: to beat the ball to the other team?” Fred explained with a teasing smile sitting on his lips.

George chuckled. “I thought you’d know that by now. You’ve been dealing with us since First Year.”

The girl rolled her eyes in response at their teasing words despite the blush threatening to rise on her cheeks from the nickname Fred gave her.

“Whatever it’s called, I don’t know why it gets you guys all riled up. I’d rather watch than fly, thank you very much.”

George shrugged her comment off and turned to Lee Jordan who grabbed his attention, but Fred raised his eyebrow at her. Not in a confused questioning way, but in a teasing manner.

“Really? Rather watch than fly? Blimey.”

The last word was murmured, his wild head trying to comprehend the fact that she would rather stand around a bunch of sweaty teenagers and young children than to feel the wind in her hair as the simple yet powerful excitement of completion roared through her veins.

She shrugged in response, finding nothing of it. “I mean, yeah, because I’m too scared to; I could never.”

Fred made a face. “Scared? To fly?”

She nodded sheepishly. “I mean I can’t name a thing that isn’t scary about it.”

Fred scoffed, and since they were at the end of the table, he quickly got up and swiftly moved next to her, their shoulders brushing.

“Nonsense. It’s very exciting, actually.” He assured gently. He then grabbed his plate from the other side of the table, his silverware now in his hands.

He continued to eat as if her fears were simply silly, something so small she was making so big.

She hesitated before asking for conformation. “Really? But you go so….high.” She fought back a shiver when she said the word but her heart failed, the organ in her chest seeming to stagger out of fear just from the thought.

Fred nodded and turned to her. “You do go pretty high, but when you’re playing the game you don’t really think much of it; you’re distracting yourself from the height by doing so.”

She hummed softly, mind taking what he said and turning it over so she could see all the angles.

“So… if I were to go up on a broom and distract myself, then I wouldn’t be as scared as I think I would be?”

Fred shrugged, moving his fork to her plate and stealing a piece of cut up chicken that was there.

“I mean, it might not work for you, ‘cause I don’t even have a thing of heights, but it works for me despite my absent fear.”

She thought about it for a moment. I mean, she trusted the twins; maybe even trusted one more than the other. (Fred.)

So it wasn’t that that was keeping her from asking, rather it was the deep fear of the biggest, most negative solution to come out of it. What if she fell to her death and never saw any of her friends again? She’s too young to die.

She blinked, realizing she was staring into space while thinking such negative thoughts.

Her blink must of re-set her brain, causing her head to turn towards the boy.

“C-could I try for myself and see?”

Fred coughed out pumpkin juice at the sudden question, his mind so used to the comfortable silence they fell into he didn’t expect her to talk again.

“What?” He rasped, patting his chest. She chuckled, picking up her napkin and giving it to him to wipe his mouth.

She watched him do so as she repeated the question.

When she did a small smirk formed on his lips.

“Sure.”

“Yeah, no, I change my mind.”

Fred laughed in the breeze, the noise blessing her ears.

“Come on, it was your choice and you’re in Gryffindor for a reason. Hop on.”

Fred was currently standing on the ground with the broomstick in between his legs, the sand on the Pitch almost covering his shoes.

She shifted, her stomach turning at the thought of leaving the ground but she followed his order despite, legs swinging over the stick and arms wrapping tightly around Fred’s waist.

Her cheeks flushed but she didn’t take the time to recognize it, her chest occupied with a squeezing sensation of fear.

“Ready?”

His voice broke out her fear, the soft question falling from his lips so effortlessly, like it was a bird with wings and claws, using them to take her fear and fly it off into the wind, never to be seen again.

Sadly the feeling of courage only lasts for a second because as soon as she nodded softly against his robes, his leg kicked off the sand and they were no longer on the ground.

She bit back a scream but some of it slipped, causing a small squeal to escape.

Fred chuckled but she didn’t hear it over the wind, instead feeling his body shake from the laughter.

“Open your eyes!”

She didn’t want to, but the trust for him was strong so her eyelids fluttered open, the broom coming to slow yet calming pace.

Her cheek was still pressed to his back, but her eyes scanned around her and she was met with the breathtaking view of Hogwarts, the building standing as strong as ever as the wind flooded her hearing.

Her mouth came agape at the sight, her head leaving his back as she turned to look at everything possible, leaving no angle unseen.

“Hey, hold on tight back there.”

She rolled her eyes even though her arms were wrapped around his waist so tight he was struggling to breathe she bet, but she still laid her head back down on his back.

His skin was warm through the fabric, and it wasn’t the reason for the deep flush on her cheeks, traveling to her neck.

“Rather watch than fly, huh?”

She threw her Quidditch uniform on the floor roughly, despite the background noise of Oliver yelling to put it on so they had time to get out there.

She used the precious time she had to walk an over and give Fred a well deserved slap on the arm, his beautiful laughter once more filling her ears.

-I hoped you liked it! 💕🥺

[utilitycaster]

(well, my feelings on Laudna are documented but I do think Imogen is a great character)

Oh! I found your blog rather recently but did you write Laudna meta early on? Or did you mean when the recent Delilah stuff went down?

I do not want to go too far into it and I suspect some of it is untagged (I have to find a way to tag for myself and not for the main character tags when writing crit) but in short: Laudna just...isn't a well thought out character. At every single Q&A panel and 4SD Marisha's summary boils down to "I wanted to make someone creepy, and then I thought 'what about a sun tree corpse, and what if her patron was Delilah'" and it it kind of stops there. When you couple it with the fact that Imogen was terrified of having any conflict with her until it became the only option, it really was like...I know Delilah was a big part of her backstory but Laudna did very little with her until episode 77 of the campaign. Like, for reference, Fjord had already helped fulfill 2/3rds of what his patron wanted and then broken his pact, gone without powers for almost 4 episodes, and found a new patron by pretty much exactly that point. There was almost no engagement with what it means to be a sorcerer (which Imogen covers skillfully even with all the new stuff that was thrown at Laura) and it was very little with an anticlimatic payoff for warlock (which, see Fjord, but also I'm not a big fan of Yu and at least they covered that concept adeptly).

Like...I remember at an early panel Marisha said "I don't want to think anymore" and the thing is like...it shows. Made a nonromanceable character and then said yes when romance came up. Didn't initially plan to take more warlock levels (already undercutting the idea of Delilah having much of a hold on her). Envisioned her character would be over her trauma and then extremely wasn't.

There's PCs I've disliked far more, or had more trouble with - Laudna's never been unlikeable. But she's always been just...profoundly disappointing until I gave up on her not being disappointing and decided she'd be there and do some cool things occasionally and never contribute a lot in the way of story.

For what it's worth, and this ties back to some of my thoughts on Campaign 3 generally, I do think that the CR cast could do another campaign in D&D in Exandria and it could achieve the heights of (pick C1 or C2 depending on personal preference; mine is C2 but I respect a C1 answer). But it requires a real session zero. I think the cast counts their mini playtests as a session zero, and I get it, because with the main cast there's not that same need to set personal boundaries or lines and veils because they know each other. But there isn't that same full-group planning. They've been releasing their Candela and Daggerheart session zeroes and just put out their Moonward one as well, and they talked extensively about the Calamity and Downfall planning sessions, and it's just...again, it shows. I think C1 and C2 work because, as I said in my post just now about Marquet, the characters sort of set the world and the campaign came from them. Once you have a more set plot in a more solidified world, I think you need to have that kind of group discussion, and they didn't, and Laudna especially feels indicative of that because I think a few pointed questions and Marisha would have realized there needed to be more to work with.

[turbulentscrawl]

Alva Lorenz General HCs

You'll have for forgive me for any typos--this man's been on my mind for two days and I have to get these out. I'm too impatient to check everything hahah

-Alva did not actually betray Luca by passing off any pf Herman’s work as his own. Though he did always maintain some interest in the concept of a perpetual motion machine, Alva didn’t dedicate much time to working on it after Herman’s death. He did, however, start the fire which killed Herman in an outburst-fueled accident similar to how Luca later killed him. Alva, however, escaped suspicion of the event and was not legally punished.

-Alva knew Herman had a son and, though he never personally met Herman’s family, knew who Luca was through grapevine rumors. He agreed to take Luca on as his student partially out of guilt for his unexposed crime, and partially because he had no children of his own and quickly felt a certain parental urge for Luca. They shared a lot in common and got on very well, very quickly, and their relationship was great right up until the accident. The documentation that seems to indicate their relationship deteriorating is coincidental. (ex, Luca’s experiments slowly transitioning from both he and Alva signing off on them to just Luca was Alva giving Luca more independence because he trusted him, rather than them growing apart or secretive.)

-I think Alva may be autistic. He doesn’t require much in the way of accommodations, and he doesn’t have the sensory issues that Aesop does. However, his speech is sometimes overly flat, his view of the world a bit rigid, his social energy levels are low, he’s prone to bouts of depression, he fixates on his work a lot, and he often fidgets with things like pens and clothes. He enjoys touching various textures, and often expresses appreciation for the material of people’s clothes. Additionally, he’s made a living out of his special interest: inventive engineering.

-Alva is a solemn and polite man. He’s rather chivalrous, but reserved, and as a result was admired by many for his mysterious-gentleman air. “Hermit” is an apt name for Alva, however, as he rarely enjoyed the company of others. He especially felt overwhelmed in large groups. He has always preferred one-on-one socializing, and even that he had a smaller tolerance for than was typical for men of his class. Luckily, he doesn’t have much in the way of a temperament, so when he’s tired of socializing, he’s just that: tired. Sexy Old man.

-To specify, when I say chivalrous, I mean he’s the kind of man who holds doors open for others, offers his hand to help them up from a seat or down from some height, share his umbrella in the rain, and would even lay his coat in a puddle for a lady to cross over. He offers chivalry moreso to women than men, but if a man presents as meek or shy enough in his presence he will extend the gestures to them as well, hoping to make them feel more comfortable.

-Alva’s only family at the time of his death was his wife. She was barren, and they had no children, and all the rest of his family had passed due to age or illness. Luca therefore became something of a surrogate son to Alva over the years. Though he sometimes struggled to show it, Alva cared for him like blood and always looked out for him.

-Alva didn’t care much about his overall predicament, after being resurrected. His religious proclivities were more for show than anything, so being a chosen of some…eldritch-cat-god is hardly the worst of his concerns. Until the manor, he hadn’t been expected to do anything he considered reprehensible or very immoral, so he’s always been fine with just completing his orders so he could go back to his work.

-After joining the manor, Alva’s only real comfort is his work. In life, inventive engineering was his method of self-expression, the way he interacted with the world, his reason for living. That changed a bit when his wife came along, and then again for Luca, but with those gone he’s back to his reclusive nature. It takes a long time for Alva to make friendships in the manor. He’s familiar with Ann out of necessity, but they’re merely cordial. With time, he becomes friendly with a small handful of others, but his melancholy is still pervasive.

-Inevitably, with enough time at the manor, Alva craves reconciliation with Luca. He doesn’t entirely blame Luca for what happened. At the end of everything, Alva knows the accident was an accident as well as a misunderstanding. (And also probably some kind of ironic, cosmic retribution for him killing Herman.) The trouble is, Luca does not remember him at all, or what happened. He knows from a few conversations that the boy’s cleverness is still in-tact, but his memories are almost entirely gone. As far as Alva is concerned, this means he’ll never get the closure of genuine, mutual apologies, and he’ll never have his “son” back. Not really.

-When Luca was his student, they were a powerful duo in public. Alva, despite being respectful and courteous to individuals, has never ‘jived’ with society as a whole. He doesn’t care about public opinion and is easily exhausted from public exposure. Luca, meanwhile, is a social butterfly. They were both charming, and worked out a system for any public appearances Alva needed to make: Luca would handle most of the talking—unless Alva’s interest was specifically sparked by some topic of conversation—so Alva could do his best to actually enjoy the atmosphere. And when Luca was ready to go, you best believe Alva was ready with their excuse to bail. The two were always favorites at any party or event, and always had interested suitors close at their heels.

-Despite being overwhelmed by conversation and crowds, Alva does enjoy the set-up for a lot of public events and parties. He likes the artfulness of decoration, and always takes time to appreciate the hard work put into setting up things like that (and once again, he loves to touch, feels the textures). He especially loves flowers. He occasionally finds loud music to be a bit overstimulating. Similarly, he likes fireworks, but requires earplugs to enjoy them fully.

-Alva’s age (at time of death) was somewhere between 40-45. His undead body is no longer aging, so physically he’s the same. Sometimes Alva misses his longer hair, but unfortunately that’s not growing anymore.

[kimhargreeves]

New Mission- Clayface x Reader (Suicide Squad Isekai)

(Based on the upcoming Suicide Squad Isekai. Things won't be accurate of course but decided to have fun writing it. Making it the first fiction I've posted in almost over a year. Decided to have fun writing on the new Muzan lookalike😅)

(Based on the upcoming anime Suicide Squad Isekai)

We were all rounded up by Amanda Waller in a room as we all had chips implanted in our brain, ones that would explode if we're to disobey her and her missions for us. We all sported the same orange prison suit. I am a criminal in Belle Reve locked with my best friend, Harley Quinn. Like any prison its divided by men and women, Deadshot and Clayface on the other end. I frown as I glanced at Clayface or Basil Karlo his real name, I knew them before we got captured at separate time and place, but I never got along with Clayface both of us occasionally clashing heads and annoying each other....

"Ugh why do we have to be a team?!" I whine as I roll my eyes as we stand in a line.

Clayface glanced at me in annoyance as he leaned back in his seat, his clay face forming a frown as he spoke

"As if you're exactly a delight to work with yourself sweetheart"

"Haa?! I'm a great delight, the best to be around with! Besides you got caught way earlier than me" I remind looking at him. He smirked as he glanced at me.

"You're pretty full of yourself aren't you? I may have been caught before you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're more of a competent villain than I am. Let's not forget that you wouldn't be in this situation if you had been more careful in the first place"

"I'm as great as a villain as the Joker" I glare referring to Harley's boyfriend, he's still loose in Gotham.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"Comparing yourself to the Joker? Please, that's an insult to my intelligence. The Joker is a criminal mastermind, someone who always thinks three steps ahead... You, on the other hand, simply rely way too much on your looks and charm in order to get away. The difference between you and the Joker is vast"

"Well of course I'm gonna use my beautiful looks! Every female villain does..like Poison Ivy"  I say shrugging.

He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms.

"Ah, yes, the seductive nature of female villains. Ivy uses her seductive looks to manipulate and deceive her victims before poisoning them. But do not deluded yourself into thinking that you're on her level, sweetheart. Ivy possesses a depth of cunning and wickedness that you could only dream of. Comparing yourself to her is laughable"

I scoff . "Heh. no I'm not! She may be taller than me with bigger attributes but we work the same! *I blush as I defend myself.

Clayface chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

"Work the same, huh? It's not just her height or her attributes that make her superior to you. Poison Ivy commands nature herself, harnessing the power of plants and using them as her own personal weapon. You, on the other hand, are essentially a weak link with nothing but looks as your only strength. But hey, if you want to keep living in delusions, be my guess."

"Yeah right, any man would be lucky to have me!"

He shook his head, a dismissive scoff escaping his lips.

"You're quite deluded if you truly believe that, love. Do you really think that your beauty is the only thing that matters to men? You lack the intelligence, the wit, the charisma, and the darkness that true villains possess. And those qualities make a woman far more attractive than pretty looks.

I frown now remaining silent as I keep glaring. He looked at me with a smirk.

"What's the matter, love? Am I hitting too close to home? Perhaps you're realizing that you're nothing but a pretty face with no substance. It's not too late to change that though, although that would require some self-awareness on your part, I don't quite think you have that...yet."

I glare as I walk closer standing in front of him as he remained seated. "You said what?!

He grinned up at me as I approached him, unfazed by my proximity to him.

"Oh, don't worry, love, it's just a little dose of honesty that you desperately need. But by all means, feel free to continue being a shallow little girl using nothing but your looks to get by in life. I'm sure that'll take you far, won't it? Pfft, such a waste of potential...”

Oh yeah? We'll see about that. I glare as I lean down gripping his chin and pressing my lips to his.

He was caught off guard by my sudden gesture, surprise evident in his expression as my lips met his. He could feel the heat rising within him, and for a brief moment, he found himself struggling to maintain his composure. But then he pushed me away, a displeased frown on his face.

"Whoa there, love. I suppose you're trying to prove a point by using your feminine wiles, but let me be clear, I'm not so easily swayed by your charm, no matter how tantalizing it may be."

Hmm I smirk to myself as I touch my lips blushing a lot. "All men fall for me..it's just a matter of time before, well, before you do, Karlo.

He scoffed, shaking his head in amusement as he observed my confident demeanor.

"Ah, I see, you believe that I'll inevitably fall for your feminine allure. Well, I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but you're in for a rude awakening. Just because I can acknowledge your physical beauty doesn't mean I'm helplessly entranced by it. It'll take more than a pretty face to break down my defenses and win me over."

I frown but then smirked remembered an event. "Oh yeah? Says the man who before we got locked up came to me, and we had an amazing night together"

 Ismirk blushing, "Don't think I forgot about that.

He sighed, a hint of a blush creeping onto his cheeks as I brought up the topic.

"Alright, I may have conceded to your advances that one time. But let's not kid ourselves, that was a moment of weakness on my part. It doesn't mean I'm under your spell or anything."

I hum blushing as I hold my face. "You've always been adorable when you don't acknowledge yourself.

He rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his aloof demeanor.

"Adorable? Please, I don't do 'adorable' sweetheart. I'm a hardened criminal, not a fluffy little bunny. And as for acknowledgement, I don't need validation from anyone, not even you, love."

I smirk turning my back to him. " 'Oh, (Y/N)! Do it like that harder!' I fake a moan imitating his words

His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red and he muttered.

"Sh-shut up. You know I'm not like that... And you certainly weren't so quiet that night either..so stop bringing it up"

"Of course I wasn't quiet! Was I supposed to?!"

He let out a huff, his annoyance growing.

"No, but I'd prefer it if you didn't go around reminding me of that particular moment. It's embarrassing, alright? I have a reputation to uphold..and having a pretty little villain like you turn me into a weak little-"

He stopped mid-sentence, cutting his words off before he could finish.

I blink surprised and blushed immensely hearing those words.

Realizing that he had said too much, he quickly changed the topic, a scowl on his face.

"Anyway, that's all in the past. It's done, I've moved on, and we have bigger things to focus on than some random one-night stand. So let's just forget about it and move on, shall we?"

I kept blushing and tilted my head. "You..think I'm pretty?

He hesitated for a moment before admitting it.

"Well, you're not displeasing to the eye I suppose. But let's not get carried away, your looks aren't enough to make up for your lack of intelligence and wit. There's more to a villain than just good looks, love. You may be pretty on the outside, but there's nothing to admire on the inside" he scoffed.

I smile as I blush grabbing his arm to hug him. Wanting to tease but also touched by his words.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by my sudden display of affection. "What in the hell are you doing?" he said, a tinge of confusion in his voice

He let out a deep sigh, his annoyance momentarily forgotten as you hugged him. “Oh, fine, enjoy your little affectionate moment. But don’t think this changes anything between us, love. I still find you incredibly aggravating.”

I hum smirking and winked. "Okie dokie “Ugh, you're insufferable” he muttered, his annoyance returning. He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but secretly feel a bit of warmth from my affection. “Now can we get back to the matter at hand? We have a mission ahead of us and I'd like to get it over with without any unnecessary distractions.”

I let got of him as Harley came to my side.  Harley, who had been observing the interaction between you and Clayface, couldn't help but chuckle.*l

"Looks like ol' Clayface is softening up a bit, huh? You got him wrapped around your finger, (Y/N)."

I smirk as I hear her. "Guess I do don't I?! I chuckle and you're lucky to have a guy like Joker so devoted to you Harley's eyes lit up at the mention of her relationship with the Joker.

"Ain't that the truth! My puddin' is one of a kind. Who needs a normal guy when you can have the Clown Prince of Crime himself, am I right? We're meant to be together!"

"Absolutely, Harls" I smile at my best friend, "Definetly a keeper"

Clayface rolled his eyes at the exchange between us two.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You two are both in love with crazed lunatics. Typical behavior for female villains, right? But when it comes to real villainy, I prefer my partners to be cunning, manipulative, and ruthless. Love is a weakness and I don't have time for that nonsense."

I pout a bit looking at him since I didn't expect him to be listening on us as Harley and I fangirled  and had a girl chat. "Yeah yeah keep saying that, Harley and Joker are the perfect couple.

He scoffed, shaking his head in amusement.

"Perfect couple? Please, they're just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Love never lasts in our world, especially not for criminals like us. One day, Joker will tire of Harley, and she'll be left shattered and broken. But hey, if you two want to idolize that mess, be my guest."

I held Harley back as she tried to grab him.

He raised the eyebrow, his expression a mixture of amusement and irritation.

"Oh, what's the matter, love? You don't like hearing the truth? That your precious Joker and Harley are just a recipe for disaster? Maybe you should face reality and realize that true villains don't waste their time on love. But go ahead, keep clinging to your delusions if it makes you feel better"

I sigh turning to Harley. "I'm sorry, Harls...don't listen to him you both are adorable together"

Harley scoffed, still trying to break free from your grasp.

“Yeah, (Y/N), I'm not gonna listen to him. My puddin' and I are meant to be, and nothing he says is gonna change that.” Clayface just smirked, clearly amused by the duo's fierce loyalty to their dangerous partners.

Of course! And you have my full support" I chuckle.

He chuckled, shaking his head at your supportiveness.

"Oh, how sweet. The two of you supporting each other’s delusions. It's like watching a pair of love-struck teenage girls with their first crushes."

"Well...duh?" I tilt my head

He rolled his eyes, clearly unamused by my attitude.

"Of course you would see it that way. But let me tell you something, love. Loving a villainous psychopath like the Joker isn't some romantic fairytale. It's a twisted, destructive path that only leads to heartache and ruin. But I suppose you two are too blinded by your naive notions of love to see it that way."

I blush as I look at him my eyes almost turning to hearts. So fun to tease him.

He raised an eyebrow, noticing the shift in my expression. The sight of you blushing and staring at him with hearts in your eyes was...unexpected.

“What's with that look, love? Are you getting sentimental on me now? It's not very villainous of you.”

Harley grabbed my face telling me to try and stop blushing.

He couldn't help but crack a slight smile at my flustered state.

"Oh, look at you. All embarrassed and flustered like a damsel in distress. Is there something I said that has you all tongue-tied, love?"

I blush looking away a bit. "Everything..idiot" I mutter.

He smirked, his amusement growing. "Ah, so I have that effect on you, do I? Well, as charming as that is, I'm afraid we have more serious matters to discuss than my ability to make you blush. We are in the midst of a mission, after all."

Fine fine *I sigh and turn to glare at the woman in charge. "Waller! What the hell do you want us to do?!" I ask our superior bitch.

Amanda Waller spoke up, her tone as cold as ever.

"Well, if you can stop bickering like children, I'll fill you in on the details. We have intel on a secret government facility dealing with advanced weaponry and experimental technology. Your mission is to infiltrate the facility, gather information, and sabotage their operations."

I sigh loudly and groan. "You're no fun, lady." Harley nods agreeing.

Waller fixed you with a stern gaze, unfazed by my attitude.

"I'm not here to be fun, Miss (Y/N). I'm here to ensure that we achieve our objectives. You all have been chosen for this mission because I believe you each possess...unique qualities that will help us succeed. So if you're done wasting my time, let's move on to the details."

I frown. He chuckled, enjoying my reaction to Waller's intimidating demeanor.

"Don't worry, love. I'm sure we'll find some way to inject a little fun into this mission. I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of "unique qualities" she sees in us..." Waller continued on with the mission briefing, outlining the facility's security measures, layout, and potential threats.

Amanda Waller put Rick Flag to keep an eye on us along with his side kick Katana. Both serious about the mission.

Rick Flag, a no-nonsense soldier, stood by Amanda Waller's side, his eyes scanning over the group of criminals. Katana, meanwhile, stood quietly beside him, her sword glinting in the dim light.

"Our priority is to make sure this mission is successfully carried out," Flag said in a steely tone. "We'll be keeping a close eye on all of you."

A man on our team Peacemaker confronted him, seems like they'll be at each other's throats.

Peacemaker, a cocky ex-soldier, faced off with Rick Flag, his ego and brash attitude evident in the way he spoke.

“I don't need you babysitting me, Flag. I've got this.”

Flag glared at Peacemaker, clearly not amused by his arrogance.

“We're doing things by the book, Peacemaker. No solo heroics, got it?”

"Whoa whoa men let's try to not kill each other, okay?! We haven't even left prison yet" I say stepping between them.

Harley, ever the voice of (a different kind of) reason, chimed in..

“Yeah, fellas, let's not start this mission with a brawl, alright? We gotta play nice for now. Can't afford any in-fighting with Amanda Waller watching our every move.”

Flag nodded, clearly agreeing with the group’s sentiment.

“Fine. We’ll put aside our differences for now. But I’m warning you all—if any of you try anything that threatens this mission, I won’t hesitate to take necessary action.”

I roll my eyes but smiled. "Ready to serve under you!"

Rick Flag smirked a little at my sudden change in attitude.

“That's the spirit. Let's get loaded into the vehicles and make our way to the facility. Remember, once we're inside, we'll need to stick together and follow the plan. No going off on your own, got it?”

"Right!" We all said. We reached outside once we got rid of our prison clothes and into our civilian ones or villain ones as people would call it.

As the group of villains exchanged their prison uniforms for casual civilian clothes, they boarded the vehicles, ready to embark on their mission. The ride to the facility was tense, with the villains aware of the gravity of what they were about to undertake. Clayface glanced over at you as you got into the vehicle, his eyes locking on your civilian outfit.

"What?" I ask glancing up over to him

He shrugged, a cocky smile on his face.

”Just admiring the view. You know, even out of your villainess get-up, you're still a sight for sore eyes. Makes me wonder if you ever stop looking good."

Aww falling for me then? *I smirk blushing again.

He smirked and rolled his eyes, playing it cool.

“Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I'm just appreciating a pretty face when I see one. It doesn't mean I'm falling for you or anything."

I huff pouting as I cross my arms over my chest.

Clayface chuckled, finding your pouting adorable.

"Aww, don't pout at me, love. You know I can't resist your little puppy dog eyes when you do that. But don't worry, I won't let myself fall for you... I'm far too cunning and heartless for that."

"Ha! See? Every guy falls for me" I sing

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but chuckle at your confidence.

“Oh, is that so? Well, I must be the exception to that rule because I am utterly unbothered by your feminine wiles. I'm completely immune to your charms, love.”

"God damn it I'm gonna throw up" We heard Peacemaker say making me frown at him but not taking him seriously.

Clayface turned a glare towards Peacemaker, unimpressed by his comments. “Watch it, Peacemaker. We're all here to get this mission done. No need to be disrespectful. Besides, if you're feeling sick, try taking deep breaths or maybe even closing your eyes. Anything but spewing insults at others.”

"Huh?! You both are the ones making me sick not the car ride" he says pointing at Clayface and I. Having stoic expressions.

Clayface couldn't help but scoff at Peacemaker's words.

“Oh, I'm sorry if our presence is too much for you to handle. Perhaps we should ask Amanda Waller to arrange a separate transportation for you, given that you seem to be so easily nauseated by our mere existence.”

I roll my eyes "..typical men..." I whisper to Harley.

Clayface couldn't help but overhear my comment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, did you say something, love? I couldn't quite catch that. Care to repeat it for the entire team to hear?”

Didn't say a thing" I quickly reply.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing you for a second.

“Oh, really? Is that so? Because it sounded like you just mumbled something about ‘typical men.’ Seems like you have quite the habit of muttering things under your breath, love.” I hum glancing at him as he sits to my right and Harley left, "shut up."

He chuckled, a smug grin on his face. “Oh, you never fail to amuse me, love. Maybe I should start a tally of all the times you tell me to shut up. I'm sure it'll be quite the impressive number by the end of this mission.”

I roll my eyes and we all remained silent during the long car ride. Harley has fallen asleep on my left shoulder and I began to close my eyes, nodding off and rested my head on my right where Clayface is.

Clayface noticed you dozing off, your head resting against his shoulder. For a moment, he pondered whether to wake you or let you sleep, but ultimately decided to allow you to rest. As he continued to keep watch, he couldn't help but notice the way your face looked so peaceful while you slept, your usual fiery demeanor completely absent.

I blushed as I remained deeply asleep.

Clayface found himself unable to resist a small smile as he observed your peaceful expression and the gentle blush on your cheeks. Despite his attempts to remain aloof, a hint of affection tugged at his heartstrings. The sight of you at peace reminded him that beneath your tough exterior, you were just a human being with emotions and vulnerabilities, just like himself.

*************

Don't know how long it has passed when the car stopped.

As the vehicle came to a halt, Clayface gently nudged you, trying to rouse you from your slumber.

“Time to wake up, love. We've arrived at the facility. And I've got to say, your drool on my shoulder isn't exactly the most flattering accessory.”

"Huh?!" I blushed fully waking up now, II quickly pull the sleeve of my jacket as I attempt to clean it. " I'm sorry, okay? You should've woken me up when you felt it"

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by my  reaction.

“It's fine, love. Accidents happen. But I must admit, the sound of you apologizing is a rare treat, especially considering your usual defiant attitude. Maybe I should keep you asleep more often. You're much more agreeable this way.”

"Ugh...don't you try to bring my apology up."  I warn.

He grinned, unable to resist teasing me.

“Oh, I plan to bring it up every chance I get, love. But for now, we've got a mission to focus on. Let's get this done, and then we'll see what else we can do to keep you in this more cooperative state.”

I grit my teeth and huffed stepping out and seeing a place which wasn't Gotham. "...where the fuck are we?"

Clayface followed closely behind you, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like Amanda Waller has picked this place for the facility. No surprise there, she's always one to keep things under wraps. Judging from the scenery, we're probably in the middle of nowhere. No city in sight, just wilderness.”

Rick stepped forward with Katana.

Clayface glanced at Rick Flag and Katana, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the fearless leader Flag and his deadly sidekick Katana. How nice of you to join us. So, what's the plan, Flag? Are we just going to stand here in the middle of nowhere and admire the scenery, or is there a mission we're supposed to be undertaking?”

Rick said nothing and Katana remained silent as usual. Rick grabbed his equipment and told us all to follow him.

Clayface smirked at Rick's annoyed response, clearly amused by his irritation. He glanced at you and Harley, motioning for you to follow as they fell into step behind Rick and Katana.

I groaned "I hate walking...hey, carry me" I say behind him unashamed to ask.

He rolled his eyes, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“Oh, is our tough little villainess tired already? Wanting a ride, are we? And here I thought you'd be able to handle a little stroll on foot.”

I pout as I look away. "That's what you said last time about wanting a ride" I mutter on the..different type of ride he had asked.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my innuendo. His smirk widened, as he responded with a teasing tone.

“Well, love, if you think this walk is too much for you, I suppose I could give you a ride. But only because I can't resist seeing that adorable pout on your face.”

I hum and quickly got behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He couldn't help but chuckle, easily lifting me up in his arms as he carried me in hud back.

“Well, aren't you quite the opportunist? Ready for your chariot, love? Just don't get too comfortable, I might just toss you around if you start getting too cheeky.”

"Hey hey! Very careful on tossing me!" I warn as I glare and blushed. "and quit touching my ass!"

He smirked at the warning, clearly enjoying teasing me.

“Oh, I'll be careful, love. I wouldn't want to upset my precious passenger and get a well-deserved beating from you. But as for your rear, well, it's a bit hard to avoid when you're this close to me. Perhaps you should be the one being more careful.”

"If you let me fall me I'll kill you" I warn as I hold onto his shoulders as he carries me from behind.

He laughed lightly, his voice full of mock concern.

“Oh, such a threat! I promise not to dump you, love. After all, it'd be a shame to lose my human backpack so soon. But keep making those endearing threats of violence, I have to say I do find them quite charming.”

I silently hum and smiled to myself as I rested my head on his shoulder as I held him and he continued to carry me. Only this mission will tell if we'll get closer to each other.....

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

TO be honest. I don’t understand what it means when people say Merlin was Arthur’s bane. Mayhaps I misunderstand but. Arthur was a bit of an assassination magnet (not to mention all those magical creatures and bandits... so many bandits), and Merlin actively prevented Arthur's death for years, which would have occured without him anway in the very first episode. I can see why one might argue that Merlin was just delaying the inevitable, or that he didn't succeed in keeping Arthur safe until Arthur could enact the golden age, but certainly I don’t see how he could have been Arthur’s bane.

Also, it’s implied in the last episode that the golden age does occur, but under Guinevere. Which makes sense as she knew Merlin was the sorcerer and that she was pleased about it (and I recall it was confirmed in interviews), so I also don’t follow the twin train of thought that Merlin was his own bane or even Camelot’s. Camelot was already bane-d(?) under Uther. But partly because of Merlin's steady friendship, Arthur matured into a king who was kinder than his father. He also actively sought magic's aid on multiple occasions, so he knew magic had potential for good (like healing his queen) without Merlin needing to tell him about his magic.

I don't think it's fair to say Camelot's laws on magic remaining relatively static was because no one close to Arthur came out as having magic. There was still much risk in that, and for Merlin a lot at stake, not just his life. A law change was still possible (and almost seemed to be set up that way) without Arthur needing someone he was personally close to having to do the work to humanize it for him (in the sense that the episodes with the druids, the druid boy with Elyan, and the dolma seemed like they were pointing to a law change because Arthur sees the diversity of magic and those who have it).

At worst Merlin’s efforts didn’t change the status quo, but we do have things indicating that they did. And Merlin was not single-mindedly serving Arthur at the expense of everyone else. He saved Camelot as a whole multiple times. He was also very willing to stick out his neck for many others even during the height of his anxiety and agitation in season 5. (Also only being slightly silly when I say this, but he was also THE wingman for Arthur when he was getting with Gwen, so in a way Merlin’s help led to their courting being a success and thus contributed to her being in a great position to change the laws. so personally I give points to Merlin for that). Most of the decisions centering Arthur's safety seemed to stem from the fear that Albion would crumble before it began if Arthur were to die, so he tried his best to prevent that from happening in any way he knew. (Like, when Arthur is dying, Merlin asks "So I failed?" regarding the whole golden age thing, which I think is telling that the prophesy and his role in it was still VERY much at the forefront of Merlin's mind).

And this is a digression but I know people think Merlin should have done more for Camelot, or for folks with magic (like, as a revolutionary or something akin), which I understand but no one reached out to network with him really? It'd require resources, people (always confused why there weren't a whole bunch more folks offering Merlin material/intellectual/emotional support if they thought he should be the one to bring about the golden age. all he was told was that the forseen way it actually happens succesfully is through Arthur), time (I doubt it’d have been much of a ‘quicker’ way necessarily), and incredible planning + foresight if it's meant to be something that works out effectively + long-term. Okay I think I've digressed enough now. This is a whole seperate thought that I don't think I'm gonna do any justice here lol, and I'm already rambling, so I'll stop now :,)

But anyway, in terms of being his own or Arthur’s bane, we know Arthur will return, and we don’t know how Merlin spent his years. His magic can play with time and maybe he learns how to control that, or he could have entered a stasis like in various legends, etc etc etc. And I mean it is tragic on many levels, and it’s sad we didn’t see Arthur’s arc completed, and that Merlin sacrificed so much for a goal that didn't get much acknowledgment by the show at the end, but still. I don’t think Merlin was Arthur’s bane, or Camelot’s, or his own.

[flock-talk]

Recently I’ve been looking for advice on creating a “hospital cage/tank” for my parrotlet in case of an emergency. (She is totally fine rn! I want to be prepared though, especially as she ages.) Have you ever had to make one of these, and what supplies would you recommend?

I have, and what you put in to it really depends on the severity of the issue you end up dealing with

- the cage itself can be a standard travel carrier but for more severe ailments it may be best to use something softer than metal bars like a fabric carrier or a cardboard box. Even acrylic cages with more solid walls might be advised depending on the issue

- respiratory issues would require a cage with ample airflow, other ailments may benefit more from enclosed walls the bird can safely bump in to and will contain warmth nicely

- some form of viewing window is helpful for being able to keep tabs on them but some illnesses might make the bird feel extremely stressed if exposed. An option to lightly cover viewpoints (but not restrict airflow) such as a light, loose, sheet may work

- something to pad the floors with, typically a towel- just ensure it doesn’t have loops that toes can get caught in. Extremely sick birds may not be able to perch or even hold themselves up. You’ll want a material that will soften any falls, provides easy tractions for them to push themselves along the floor, be comfortable, as well as be able to be shaped in to little ledges the bird can prop themselves up against to stay upright. Ensure you have multiple of these things, cleanliness is very important with sick animals you’ll want to be able to replace objects and clean things as quickly and easily as possible.

-with that you may want a container without climbable walls. Birds often want height to feel safe and will try to climb up cage walls even if they repeatedly fall off. Smooth walls will prevent them from causing further harm. To reduce the stress of being on the floor it can help to keep the cage itself up nice and high.

- for less severe ailments the bird may perch just fine, in those cases you’ll want some plain dowel perches a diameter that your bird can easily hold on to. Usually a width that their foot can grip 3/4 the way around. Dowels are best in this case for the consistent width and stability, although you may want to sand one down to create a small bit of texture in it so they’re less slippery.

- in some cases a heating pad may be recommended to be placed underneath 1/4-1/3 of the carrier. Something to help keep their body warm if they get sick during the cold season but you don’t want excessive heat trapping causing the bird to overheat. You may also want a Bluetooth thermometer to be placed inside the carrier to accurately monitor temp. I use sensorpush, you can set temp ranges on the app and have it send a (loud) push notification to your phone when the temp goes above or below your set temp ranges.

- easily digestible food, if your bird is on pellets they may not want them when they’re sick. Keeping some fattier foods on hand (or keeping tabs on where you can get them) can be helpful in quickly engaging their appetite. This also means some birds won’t remove shells from their seeds when too sick so finding de shelled seeds or even hearty baby formulas/ recovery formulas can go a long way within the first 24hrs of treatment. Getting them eating is a hugely important problem

- types of dishes. Some sick birds don’t have good balance, a deep water bowl can be a drowning hazard. You might want to train your bird to drink out of hamster bottles or explore shallower water dishes, ones that are a bit smaller, or explore different setups in your carrier that could keep the dishes lightly raised just to head height so that falling over in to it would be very difficult to do as well as making mobility to those areas easier/ less of a tripping hazard. You’ll also want dishes that don’t tip over easily. A wet bird is an uncomfortable and more likely to get sicker bird/ potentially go in to shock.

- make sure your bird is comfortable with handling, restraint, being weighed, and taking foods from a syringe. Less stress when an actual sickness hits means more likelihood for recovery. The more elements of treatment you can prepare them for the better.

- have a good gram scale on hand (kitchen scales work, preferably down to one to two decimal points if you have a tiny bird). Birds losing weight is a big bad situation, weighing them regularly can tell you how much they’re eating, and whether or not they’re improving or worsening before symptoms change which can get them better treatment sooner.

- keep a first aid booklet nearby, consult with your vet team on what to do, what to look out for, bird cpr, emergency 24hr vet numbers. Ask them every single question you have before you leave. Take notes, better to be as prepared as possible and know what Bad and Worse look like rather than guessing

- familiarize yourself with crop feeding. If you don’t have a 24hr avian vet and your bird refuses to eat you’ll likely need to force feed them. If that’s needed your vet /should/ take the time to show you how to do it. Make sure you have the needed syringes and nozzles at home and are familiar with how to use everything.

I think that covers just about everything, keep tabs on the notes though if I’m missed something hopefully some folks will add on!

As always call your vet team and ask, if it’s not super busy you can just talk over the phone about setting up a hospital cage at home and they should be able to give you some accurate tips and pointers. You can also ask if your vet provides pet first aid booklets for birds, most don’t have them on hand but if they’re certified through the AAV there is a file for AAV members they /might/ be able to print out for you

[atefingersdagger]

clato handholding -> 28

Please Don't Fall, For Me

Prompt 28: Grabbing the other’s hand so they don't fall

Thank you for requesting!!!

*

Thankfully, it’s Cato who is the one that has to hold her hand so that she doesn’t fall flat on her face. Had he been the one careening over, her attempts at stopping it would result in both of them planting to the ground. Fucking rocky cliffs and their edges being so unstable.

“Falling for me already, are you?” Cato says, voice ragged with its usual smugness and lacking it’s typical anger.

“You know, it’s completely within legal bounds for me to slit your throat right now.”

Clove’s snide doesn’t work to slash his ego. Maybe it would have if she had slashed him in a more physical way, such as his heels. He only laughs, pulling her to him as though him saving her from a plummet that might have broken a few bones gives him the right to bring her so close.

“You’re so much fun.” Cato hasn’t let go of her hand, inspiring ire in her soul to whirr like the sound of a thrown knife. “Especially when you’re murderous.”

She sneers. “You won’t be having much fun when you’re being stabbed. Can’t imagine having about twenty-eight of them would be enjoyable.”

“Only that much? I think you can aim higher. Or...” Cato leans down, getting into her face like he wants to kiss her. In reality, however, he’s just being an ass. “Are you too short to reach for such heights.”

One reason she hates him, among many others, is that he plays along with her threats. Where other people, especially fellow tributes, would cower and cry, he takes it all in stride. Yet, it’s one reason she’s grown to... appreciate his company. He gives back as good as he gets.

Which sounds wrong, but she wasn’t meaning to think that way. “Don’t worry, I know how to make things go my ways.”

Using his ego against him, she squeezes his hand and gives him a flirtatious smile. Before, she yanks, releases and causes him to stumble into the crest of a rock wall beside them. His face registers confusion to shock to annoyance in a few seconds easy. The flickers cause her to start chuckling as he catches himself against gray stone.

She has seen him slit a throat, stab an abdomen, and snap a neck. The last of those he could easily do to her know, as she expects him to make a lunge at her for humiliating him on live television. But he does not, perhaps used to being humiliated after the time in this godforsaken arena. Or he could be into it.

Instead, Cato pushes himself upright completely, from what she can hear as she’s begun to walk off into areas they hope to forage more sustenance for their grumbling stomachs. Clove is skipping of some sorts, a small high received from making him be a fool. Another reason she should keep him around; to entertain her sadistic whims. She bets the audience would love that and even place their bets on her victory.

After all, her and Cato are the only Careers left. Who else is there to truly root for? The supposed ‘star-crossed lovers’ from 12 and their frail bones and bodies that have never known a day of training in their lives? Or the small mouse from 5 with the red hair and face like that of a sly fox? No.

It’s either them from the glorious District 2, or perhaps the boy from 11 who is built like a ferocious ox. If either her or Cato perish by some cruel hand of unlikely fate, she’d assume the winner would be that guy. Those odds seem low in probability.

Alas, just because her most annoying of allies are dead and gone, the peacocks from District 1, does not spare Clove from further aggravation. She thinks she might wrap her hands around Cato’s neck like she was wringing water from it like some dirty rag, but that wouldn’t be prudent. Would it? Because he’s right, she’s short and strangling him would likely require her to be straddling him and well... absolutely not.

“Clove.” The voice behind her is a huff.

“What?” She doesn’t look back, paying extra attention to the terrain they are scaling over that is not much different to the land of their home.

“I should have let you fall.”

“You can always push me.”

“But where would the fun in that be?”

He shoves at her like a juvenile, not enough to make her lose her balance like he had, but enough for her heart to cease a skip in the assumption that he was, in deed, pushing off the cliff. Despite not teetering, Cato grabs her hand again. The grasp is firm but a slight more uncertain in his knuckles and tendons.

Looking down at their joined hands, she realizes she hadn’t let go when she should have earlier and she’s unable to release now as well. Not because his hand swallows hers whole like a wave to a small body, but because she realizes something. Clove smirks, oh so sure of her assumption.

“Did you do that just to have an excuse to hold my hand again?”

“Excuse me?” Cato asks incredulously.

“If you want to hold my hand so bad, you could have just asked.”

“You say that as though you wouldn’t gut me for the thought.”

“True.” Clove digs her nails into his skin to see if he flinches. He does not. “But ask a girl nicely and you never know.”

They have come to an impasse in their conversation and a drop in where they walk. Cato lets her hand drop unceremoniously at her side, almost like it was something disgusting he touched. Her eyes roll and when they stop, she sees that the place below is more dirt and pine, along with an army of trees that might give them some animals, or humans, to hunt in its foliage.

Nonchalantly, he climbs down, or at least jumps down. The drop is a bit high, but he lands on his feet like a cat would. Then, he raises his arm up, extending a hand to her. An expectant look crosses his features and he gestures to her as if he’s asking for something. Similar to the gloved Peacekeepers that take their blood at the Reaping for the bowls their names are drawn from.

“Are you going to catch me, big guy?” Clove crosses her arms, enjoying that she’s, for once, standing above him.

“Don’t want you breaking an ankle.”

“Course not.” She unfolds her elbows. “Or you just want to hold my hand.”

“Does the princess protest too much?”

In retaliation, this little game that only they are playing, she sticks her tongue out at him. She runs her fingers along his palm teasingly, and she notices his ring finger twitch at the tickle it inspires. And she gives it a tiny scratch that isn’t even close to breaking the skin.

“This will be the second to last time I’ll hold your hand.” Clove mentions as he does catch, one of his strong arms around her waist.

“Second?” He’s looking down at her, but it reeks of the eyes a puppy would have when peering up and begging for a treat.

“Yeah.” She intertwines their digits to prove her point. “I’ll hold your hand while your dying, bleeding out from all those stab wounds.”

Cato brushes his thumb against her abductor pollicis brevis muscle, causing a slight blush to form on her face skin. “Is that a promise?”

Really, she can only nod because it absolutely is a promise. So, when he is the one to be pushed to the cliff of breath, she will give him that final piece of loyalty and respect. He’ll fall for her, and she’ll be the one to reach for his hand. Finally.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

November MC of the Month: Riikka Lovisa Yläkorpi

Please welcome November 2023's MC of the month! Each month, we will highlight one MC or OC that is currently on our Meet My MC / OC List. The MC / OC is selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s MC of the month is…

@aallotarenunelma 's Riikka Lovisa Yläkorpi!

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

What I love most about Riikka is how she always finds a way to talk about Finland and share about her Finnish culture. She was born and raised there until she moved to Westchester when she was 2. Her father was born and raised in Porvoo/Borgå, Finland and her mother was born and raised in Astoria, Oregon, where there's an important Finnish community. It explains why she's so deeply connected to her Finnish roots.

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

Riikka and I share the same height (163 cm), the same main love language (quality time), and a love for raspberries and salmiakki. We also share the same romantic and sexual orientations (demigray), but that was completely accidental. It was only a few months ago that I realized I was also gray, not just demi.

Unlike her, I don't have Asian origins, I have only one culture and one native tongue, I am not an only child, I am not allergic to peanuts and spring is not my favourite season.

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life? Happiness is most important to her. Happiness for her and also for everyone else. She wishes for people around her to be utterly happy, especially her loved ones.

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes? Riikka's biggest pet peeves are cruelty and any forms of abuse. She also dislikes peanuts because of her severe allergy and rutabagas.

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be? That would be hanging out with Mr Red. If she could go back in time, in every timeline, she would not follow Jane and would tell her how bad that idea is. Each time, it has impacted the group and left Dan with PTSD and a high level of anxiety to manage.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song? "Voimallinen tahto vie miehen läpi harmaan kiven." ("A strong will takes a man through a gray rock.")

This quote is from the classic book Seitsemän veljestä (The Seven Brothers) by Aleksis Kivi.

Because Riikka has a silly side, she enjoys telling Dan "eteenpäin sanoi mummo lumessa", which translates into "forward, said granny in the snow". It means to keep going through difficulties with determination.

Both quotes are about sisu. It's a Finnish concept hard to translate but that could be explained as perseverance, strength of will, tenacity, courage, bravery during moments that seem hopeless.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

Riikka is very special to me because she's my first ILITW MC. Unfortunately, she passed away in a violent manner during my very first playthrough, leaving me shaken. I had to grieve her before being able to replay the book and create another MC.

Because I couldn't forget her, I decided to write a series, Darker Than Night, that follows the original timeline. It's very angsty but also cathartic.

I also had the idea of an AU series telling about how the lives of the children would have changed if they hadn't had the sleepover in the woods. This AU series is titled In Joy and Sorrow and it starts when they are in junior, so a year before when the book starts. I love this series because I can talk about so many important and different topics, and there are wonderful OCs. Even my four other It Lives MCs are dropping by from time to time.

Thanks to this series, I've really gotten to know Riikka, and I keep on learning about her. And now, she can fully live a great life she should have never lost so young in the first place.

Here are some stories to learn more about Riikka:

Darker Than Night

Joy and Sorrow

[sweaterkittensahoy]

For the MotA OC hotties, some crochet things you could have your girls make to keep their hands busy:

I'm looking at 1930s and 1940s patterns, as I think some 1930s patterns would carry forward easily.

From 1933. Made from motifs. The pamphlet says you can make it in a day if one person stitches and the other sews. ...maybe??? But this is something I could see get made for a long time because it's meant to be the sexy version of a wool undergarment to keep you from getting a chill, and the general cover-up in the 1940s means this could still easily be worn under things.

1940s. You can tell by the military-style shaping in the shoulders and waist. This is made in two parts: First you make the filet-like base, then you stitch over those spaces to get the wiggly texture.

1930s but with all signs of being late 30s with the more structured sleeves and fitted waistband. I would suspect a lot of girls had this sweater well into the 40s, as it would pass style muster pretty easily but especially in the make do and mend era.

Bed jackets were a big thing back then, and I feel like this bed jacket from the 1930s was worn forever by whoever had it because it's so fancy looking. This was done in hairpin lace, which requires a hairpin lace loom, but it's a very common style of crochet that anyone who crochets can pick up pretty easily. Big hope chest vibes on this one.

1938 but again, those 1940s military elements are starting to show. Another one that could make it through the decade easily.

1940s afternoon blouse, as it says. Very fashionable. This is a British pattern, and I would guess it's post-war since there's frippery involved, hence more yarn, but I can't swear by that.

1941. meant to be worked in at least three colors. I could see girls swapping skeins with each other to get different color combos.

This one is getting a special shout-out because it's the West Point Collar, meant to mimic the uniforms at West Point. In case you need your girls to have a good laugh (yes, I do have a Minnie story about her making this just to dress up as a cadet for Halloween on base).

Likely early to mid 1930s, and I know it'd be seen as frippery and possibly wasteful in wartime, but I also think any number of girls might fire back with "I've had this gown for five years" because it was made for them by their mother or grandmother for a graduation or prom.

But also, I am in love with it and could see a frugal gal making a sash from parachute silk or even just well-starched cotton, so I want you to see it.

Dickies (aka vestees) and collars were a huge thing in the 1940s. A big part of make do and mend was to find ways to dress up old things with a new little touch of style, and collars and dickies take a lot less material than a whole new top or outfit.

I would be remiss not to include at least one 1940s fascinator. They were the height of fashion. All over the movies. If your girl is getting ready for a date night, she either has one of these or is borrowing it.

Anyway, just some ideas from patterns I have. You can also look up 1940s crochet patterns or 1940s knit patterns on etsy and get other ideas. Most things were made either with thread or very small yarn.