#I thought the Tumble peeps might appreciate this

[natastrophe]

I would like to point out the delightful, subtle bit of subversion that is none of the angels, not even the strictest 'god-following' ones batting an eye over Aziraphale + Crowley's supposed love miracle being aimed at lesbians.

Like, they looked at this and went, yes, matchmaking for lesbians, that's the kind of miracle god likes. If that's really what Aziraphale was doing we can't punish him for that.

And I just...thought that was neat.

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 4: The Ghost of You

summary: Somehow Tommy and you managed to convince Joel to stay in Jackson for the night, opting to leave the next morning. Things get just ever so slightly awkward between you and that gruff bastard, but it’s fine, totally fine. You’re really not that flustered already.

warnings: none, maybe a little naked Joel nothing nsfw, maybe a tiny bit of eye-fuckin’ but whose to say, not me!

word count: 3,178

Read on AO3 here

The last twelve or so hours were probably the most eventful of your tenure at Jackson, especially since becoming Maria’s right hand gal. The walls of the small community towered in front of you as the four of you approached. Tommy and yourself taking point in the front while the two strangers to Jackson were quiet behind you, either in awe or unease.

Because the sun was still setting, it was difficult to make out who replied but you think you recognized Marcus’ voice telling the others to open the gate. You looked over your shoulder to talk to Joel and Ellie, “We’ll go to the stables first, drop these boys off then take you to one of the houses. You two can get cleaned up there and we’ll bring you food and supplies.”

“Okay!” Ellie looks excitedly at you and Tommy. Beside her, Joel continues to be wary and alert. He surely trusts his younger brother, but you’re waiting for him to start something with you.

It didn’t take much for the whispering and gossip to start in Jackson. No matter how late in the night there was always a lurker, always somebody looking to stir shit, so when you started seeing more and more of the townsfolk peeping out of windows to look at the two new strangers riding alongside two of their leaders, you sent a silent thank-you to the stars that you didn’t have to linger for the whispering to swirl you.

Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

Tommy, who rode in front, began to point out to his brother and the girl various landmarks for the small city. The saloon, the community center, the medical building. Making a not-so-subtle attempt to let his brother know he could stay after you’d all return, live a semi-normal life in Jackson during the apocalypse.

Eventually, you fell behind Joel and Ellie making sure nobody pulled any kind of stunt from the back so you got to watch as the gruff brute shifted on his horse, looking only mildly uncomfortable that he couldn’t keep an eye on you. You wondered how his life was on the outside, how much horror plagued his nights, as it did you and everybody else who had to suffer in similar circumstances. Ellie, on the other hand, looked enthusiastic and much as an ordinary child did, despite the glaring obvious.

Approaching the stable, you pulled yourself out of those lingering thoughts, spotting Cherry and Charlie. Cherry ran up to your small group, excitedly cooing at her babies, grateful for their safe return.

Everybody jumped off their horse, handing the reins to a stablehand nearby and Ellie approached the young woman, “I’m sorry I stole your horse. I won’t do it again.”

Cherry held the horses’ bit in her hand, giving Ellie a stern look which you nearly reprimanded the woman for before she burst into a hearty laughter. “I’d never seen Tommy run so goodman fast in my life,” she howls, “I do forgive you for taking dear Lux but please, don’t do that again.”

Ellie looked down at her feet, giving a bashful promise which elicited another bout of relieved laughter from everyone watching. “Okay, yes, I’m not as young as I used to be, don’t mean I can’t run anymore Cherry,” Tommy smiles. “Anyways, let’s get outta here.”

Once again, your small group fell into silence only to be broken by the occasional point-and-see Tommy was doing as he walked beside you, telling his brother and the girl about Jackson, the little traditions the small community developed such as the movie night that fell on this evening, hoping to entice Ellie into persuading Joel to come back. As he would go on to describe the town and the various jobs everyone pulled, you’d sneak back a look over your shoulder to glance at the man every so often.

Only to catch him staring at you. Damn near every time. 

The four of you pulled up to a two story house at the end of a road, just around the corner from the Jackson cemetery. “Why don’t you two take this house for the night,” Tommy said. “It’s got hot water, firewood, pretty much everything you’d need.”

Ellie groans happily coming up beside you as you kneel to the ground and unzip your backpack. “Here,” you dig out some clothes and hand them to Ellie, “Take a shower first. The clothes might be a little big but something’s better than nothin’.”

Tommy nudges his brother, “We’ll bring you some clothes and some warm food. I think Seth has turkey burgers on the menu tonight.”

“Son of a bitch that sounds good,” you say lightly. It was true, Seth’s turkey burgers were one of the best damned things in Jackson. Even if the old man irritated the daylights out of you most days. 

“I’ll go get the food, you go get them clothes and supplies. Be back here in 30,” Tommy tells you. You gave your friend a mock salute and turned away, walking to the community center.

You chance a glance back behind you, Tommy engrossed in conversation with his brother, Ellie already running up the porch to that tempting fresh shower. As for Joel, as soon as you looked at him, it was almost as if he instinctively knew when your eyes would gaze over him for as soon as you did, his brown eyes met you.

The moment took you by surprise and you tumble slightly, catching yourself after tripping on your own damned two feet. Calm down, can’t you keep your shit together, you chide yourself.

You tried to keep your mind occupied, tried to keep various small tasks in the forefront of your head; it wasn’t really easy considering a gruff man with a husky voice danced behind those thoughts. You barely stopped to say a quick hello to people as you passed, not wanting to give them an opportunity to ask you questions about Joel and Ellie. You saw the community center and pretty much ran the last few feet, wanting to get in and out as soon as possible.

Although you knew the pair for less than a day, it wasn’t hard to pick out a couple spare shirts and tanks for them, hoping they’d fit. Joel was easy, he looked like a man who knew his flannels whereas Ellie was more akin to graphic tees and long sleeve undershirts.Tossing the clothes into a bag, you made your way to the exit.

You shot a thanks of appreciation to Max, the man who practically ran the center, and headed out, making a quick stop to your flat. You tossed out all the dirty clothing from your pack into the laundry basket that laid haphazardly at the foot of your bed and switched it out for fresher and cleaner clothes, restocked on ammunition for your dual guns as well, lastly packing some soon-to-be expired food to eat on the road. A rapid mental check and you figured you were good to head out and left your dear little flat for the foreseeable future.

Feet thumping against the porch, you pounded at the door, calling out. “Tommy?”

When nobody answered you knocked again, “Joel? Ellie?”

Only for silence to respond. 

You check the knob and it gives under your hand and you let yourself in, heading up the stairs to check if anybody was actually here or if Joel skipped town without you. Each room you checked was empty, only pushing your worry to be an accurate assumption when you finally peered into the master bedroom. The door opened with a small creak and you were confronted with the naked and wet image of Joel fuckin’ Miller, clad in nothing but a grey towel around his waist as he sat on the bed.

He looks up at you, watching you watching him. Your breath is stolen away, much like your brain has suddenly malfunctioned. A quick furrow of your brow and you remembered where you were, tossing the bag of clothing at the man and turning to leave, slamming the door shut behind you. Storming down the stairs and aiming for the living room, it wasn’t until you hit the final step that you realized you were holding a breath.

How old am I, you whine. As if I’ve never seen a naked man before.

You plopped down on the sofa groaning, mentally reviewing the sight of Joel sitting on the bed looking frustrated- wet hair and tan skin in all his unfortunate glory. Shaking your head in your hands you sighed, waiting for somebody to come rid you of the ever so obvious embarrassment that loomed over your mind like a cloud when the front door opened to the sounds of Tommy and Ellie talking animatedly about using the rifle to protect Joel some time ago.

Bolting from the seat you took not even a few minutes prior, you met your friend and Ellie, quickly taking the bags from them to do something with your hands rather than ringing your neck out. The two continue talking as they follow you into the kitchen, Ellie going on still on how she’s saved Joel’s life from hunters once upon a time.

Together with Tommy, the two of you set out placemats on the table and served the burgers and fries on plates, letting Ellie finish her story. Thankfully being quiet was usually a quality of yours that served you well as Tommy didn’t pick up anything odd from your demeanor.

As the last plate was set, Joel came down the stairs wearing one of the new flannels you had picked for him. A green number, much like his old one but much less ratty and dirty. You refused to look him in the eye as the food was doled out onto everybody's plates, making sure to give him and Ellie extra fries.

Sitting down at the table with everybody as the four of you dug into the food, Ellie and Joel were quiet as they consumed everything they could which elicited a knowing smile between you and Tommy. It was pretty damned clear they hadn’t eaten anything of substance in quite some time. You were only half done with your own as you got Ellie’s attention, “Hey, kid. Want to finish mine off?”

She looked at you and then to the burger in your hand that you leaned towards her. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Nah, a growing kid like you needs to eat. Take it. I’ll start cleaning up.”

“Ellie,” Joel’s voice hinted at a scold.

You looked at him, “She can eat it. There’s more if either of you want any.” You pushed your plate to the girl and stood, beginning your usual post-meal routine of cleaning up.

“Now you two better not kill each other out there, you hear me,” Tommy started, “Especially you.” He pointed to his brother. You caught out of the corner of your eye Joel tense up, about to argue back.

“Don’t you try to tell me what to do, baby brother,” he emphasizes the ‘baby’.

Tommy put his hands in the air, “I know how you can be, but I also know how she can be.”

This made you cock an eyebrow at him. “Do tell me Tommy Miller, how can I be?”

He stammered for a moment before shrugging, “Hell if I know anymore, you and Maria are gonna be the death of me.”

“Damn right,” you say. You smile and walk over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

As you walk away, you faintly hear Tommy lean over the table and say something to his brother like, “Goddamn Californian girls.”  Which made you throw a rag at his head. He had it comin’.

The trio finished up while you cleaned the kitchen giving your mind some time to go on autopilot, enjoying the opportunity to stay clear of Joel for a moment. You couldn’t figure out what it was, maybe it was that he was one of the first new strangers to come to Jackson. Maybe it was the fact he was the elusive and mysterious older brother to Tommy. Maybe it was just the fact you were fuckin’ horny. Whatever it was was beginning to get on your last nerve and you needed to focus on the task at hand- getting the duo to the University for whatever reason.

Unfortunately you finished sooner than you’d hoped then trotted to the living room and settled on the couch next to Ellie, watching Tommy get the fire going in the fireplace. She shifted in the seat, eager to ask, “So, you’re from California?”

You nodded your head, “Born and raised in the Bay Area.”

“How old were you when the virus hit,” Ellie asked excitedly. “Joel doesn’t like talking about it but it all seems so surreal.”

You shifted in your seat just a bit, feeling all the eyes on you. “I was a little older than you are now, not by much. I was still very much a kid at the time.”

“So what did you do?”

You’re taken back for a moment at the girl's questions. You could tell she meant no harm but you weren’t sure how much you could reveal about yourself to complete strangers, so you compromised with half-truths. At the very least Tommy knew what kind of person you were and you had shit all to prove to Joel.

“Well, after the breakout, I volunteered as a field medic for FEDRA for a few years. I couldn’t take it for much longer so I left. Then, I found the Fireflies, met Tommy there too,” you nodded towards the man.

“And she found her family there,” Tommy interjected. The double innuendo was clear for the two of you.

“He’s right,” you smiled faintly. “Not only did I meet the man who’d become a brother to me,” you jerked your chin towards Tommy and noticed how Joel was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening to you. You continued, “but I found my own brother there along with my uncle.”

Subtlety wasn’t your strong suit but what harm could it do to show that you knew what the hell you were talking about when it came to the militia group.

You sighed heavily recalling some of the darkest moments of your lift. “When the breakout happened, I lost everybody on that first day. The only person who I couldn’t account for was my brother, Regan. Turns out he was able to escape then he joined the Fireflies when they formed.”

“Woah, that’s incredible,” Ellie’s eyes were wide listening to your story. “Was he friends with Marlene?”

“You could say that. Without him, she would have killed me when I approached her in Boston but he vouched for me. His opinion mattered to her.”

“Why,” she asked.

“Hell if I know, hell if I could even guess. Regan was always persuasive, could get anybody to do anything if he wanted,” you said lowly, staring into the fireplace. Your memory swirled with thoughts and worries again, wondering if he was still the same brother you knew or if this world changed him like it did everybody eventually. Sure as shit changed you.

Before any of you knew it, the conversation began to idle down as if they collectively sensed your unease. Soon, Ellie’s head drooped along with her eyelids, coming to lay in your lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The silence didn’t stay long until Joel looked at his brother then to you, gesturing between the two of you, “What was that thing you did with your hand? When we were fighting with the hunters?”

“It’s a system we adopted here in Jackson. A bit inspired by the military, a bit from sign language. We developed it to be able to communicate if we needed total silence and it works pretty well, only those of us in Jackson can understand it,” Tommy says proudly.

“I can teach you and Ellie,” you offer. “I’d be good to know if we run into any trouble out there.” You looked down at Ellie, watching as she slept, running your fingers through her hair. She looked peaceful and part of you didn’t want to move, just so she’d get one good night’s sleep but the other argued she’d sleep better in an actual bed.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled, “Be nice.”

You looked away from the girl in your lap and looked between the two brothers. “I’ll take this one up to bed, you get some rest too,” you told Joel. “See you in the morning, Tommy.”

Rousing the teenager awake, you walked with her to one of the bedrooms and she fell back asleep rather quickly. Seemed to barely be phased by the new scenery. You kicked off your shoes and went down the hall, claiming the last of the spare bedrooms. By the rise of the next morning, the three of you will be headed out to the one place you didn’t think you’d ever see again.

These are the thoughts that plague you until sleep catches up to you only to toss over and see sunlight peeking through the blinds into the room. You let out a small groan, hoping that you didn’t oversleep although what it really felt like was that you didn’t sleep at all and exited the room only to find your new companions talking with Tommy and Maria in the living room.

Maria spotted you as you descended the stairs and she grabbed your hand, pulling you outside. “You sure about this?”

“More than anything.”

She wants to protest, you know she does. Instead she leaves you on the porch to walk down to Cherry who was keeping two horses occupied.

You went back inside, seeing Ellie double checking her backpack, yours beside hers. You grabbed your toothbrush and some paste, trying to make yourself feel clean with running water one last time for a while only to return to Joel speaking softly to his brother.

“You take care of that wife of yours.”

“There’s a place for you here, you know,” Tommy tries to convince his brother to return.

He hesitates a moment, scratching his beard. His Spanish accent comes through the southern twang as he says, “Adios, hermanito.”

Joel looks at you, following you out of the house before mounting onto his horse, Ellie jumping on behind him. Ellie gives Tommy and Maria a small wave before Joel turns the horse around. 

Maria gives you a tight hug before you are able to get on your horse and she whispers, “You better come back or so help me.”

You pull back and give her a parting kiss on her cheek, “Kill Tommy first.” She laughs sadly at the idle threat and you mount up, giving a parting nod to your friends and then to Cherry and pull up next to Joel and Ellie, ready to tackle this next adventure.

[doudecim]

I want to say that 99% of the fics here are on FF.net for I have only recently discovered the wonders of AO3, and I still didn’t dig deep in there to find all the HitsuKarin goodies.

That being said, I will put the list under the cut because this will be one very long post. So, I hope you all enjoy it!

one-shots

A Constant Fascination, by back-in-a-bit. — 'Colour me blood red passionately.' Hitsugaya makes it his personal mission to get Karin to blush. Pity it's easier said than done. In fact, it might just take him a lifetime. [rated T]

A Fall in the Fall, by MeteorLeopard. — This was ridiculous! There she was, just looking at the fish, and the next thing she knows, she's up in a tree being held against her will! And it's all his fault! [rated T]

a little suffering is good for the soul, by the milliner’s rook. —  Future fic. If there are stupider ways to get courted, Karin can't think of them. [rated K+]

A Woman Scorned, by Glowing Blue. — The twisted fairy tale of Karin finding her own invite to the ball, though she's hardly looking for a Prince Charming. [rated T]

but leave the soul alone, by the milliner’s rook. — AU. Death, it's catching. Or: the one where Toushirou and Karin share night shifts at the hospital. And coffee. Terrible, terrible coffee. [rated K+]

Collection, by ichilover3. — A drabble/oneshot dump. Shenanigans, silliness, and sexy-times abound. Also alliteration, apparently. [rated M]

crawl into your shadow, by the milliner’s rook. — AU. There's a witch in this sleepy little village now that goes by the name of Karin, but nothing has changed since she's arrived. Not really. [rated T]

Delirous, by carved in the sand. — Matsumoto finds her captain to be a lovestruck teenage boy. [rated T]

duckling theory, by the milliner’s rook. — The first thing Karin notices is watermelon. Looking back, maybe it should have been startling green eyes. [rated K]

For You, by Glowing Blue. — Death had never been the paradise everyone wished it to be. But then they found each other. [rated T, two-shot.]

frostbitten, by the milliner’s rook. — Set during the time skip. The winter they meet is unkind with snow. [rated K+]

Frozen Moments, by CrazyAce'n'PokerFace. — 101 drabbles/one-shots that give a glimpse into Toushirou and Karin's life together. A love story told in snapshots. [rated K+]

funny valentine, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — I'll be yours if you'll be mine. [rated K+]

humour me, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — True love's kiss. That ought to do it. [rated K+]

i’m high on believing, by the milliner's rook. — For the record, he prefers his plain black shoes to her fancy red sneakers. [rated K+]

ice breaker, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — AU. There are better ways to get found out than making out in a closet and tumbling onto the ground. [rated T]

if my heart was a compass you’d be north, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. Give me a reason to believe. [rated K+]

In Every Season, by Adobo-chan. — A collection of HitsuKarin oneshots. [rated T]

In the Dark, by ichilover3. — It really wasn't anyone else's business. She should be allowed to fornicate with midgets if she wanted to. [rated T]

innocent guilt, by SebonzaMitsuki27. —  AU. Oh, I know! You're a tramp with wings! [rated K+]

Juxtaposition, by Lady Azar de Tameran. — Something within Hitsugaya Toushirou thinks that he may have met his match. [rated T]

keep me in your pocket, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Set during the timeskip. Don't stay out of touch, okay? [rated K+]

Kuchiki Rukia, the Glorified Courier, by MeteorLeopard. — Delivering super-top-secret messages between dimensions is tough work; believe me, I know. If it weren't such a rewarding experience I'd downright refuse to play the messenger. Honestly. [rated K+]

liliputians, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. It's alright, kid. I'm short too. [rated K+]

Lovely Complex, by Unknown lazy ass. — She slyly grinned, “Wow, you really are head over heels for me, aren’t you Toushirou?” [rated K+]

Momo knows Best, by MeteorLeopard. — Sometimes having a meddling older sister... sucks. [rated T]

of halos and wings, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. He had betrayed Hinamori with nothing but his heart. [rated T]

Old Haunts, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. You were just gone, Toushirou, what was I to think? I thought—I thought you'd come back, and you did, twenty years too late. [rated T]

Peeping Tom, by Glowing Blue. — The love story of Hitsugaya and Karin, as seen from open windows and heard through thin walls. "Hisagi's eyes had a tendency to stray." AU. [rated T]

phantasmagoria, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Flickering through black and white, they find their perfect shade of grey. [rated K+, two-shot.]

put down your sword and crown, by the milliner's rook. — AU. When her old man dies to save Ichi-nii's life, everything changes. Days after the funeral, the word Quincy is spoken for the first time, and at five years old, Karin becomes defined by it. [rated K+]

Red, The Colour of Despair, by the milliner's rook. — It was strange how much difference one colour could make. [rated K+]

Revenants, by carved in the sand. — Hitsugaya ponders the ghosts that haunt the girl he still loves. [rated T]

Sports and Sex are Universal (but never the twain should meet), by back-in-a-bit. — Toushirou gives Karin a flat look. "I'm not high-fiving you over sex," he says. [rated M]

Subtle, by nublados. — Toshiro comments on the subtlety that is Karin Kurosaki. [rated K+]

The Art of Asking, by Felix02. — He should have known that her father wouldn't be able to keep a secret, especially from one of his daughters. [rated T]

The Art Of Getting By, by the milliner's rook. — AU. There's some difficulty between juggling flirting, killing Hollows and getting to class on time with the hottest guy in high school, but Karin's certain she'll get the hang of it eventually. [rated T]

The Staircase not Taken, by MeteorLeopard. — Perhaps it was a good thing that the stairs were destroyed, her brother acting demented and a violent fight going on without her just upstairs. After all, the visitor who happened to drop by was worth the wait. [rated T]

the winter sun smiled for things to come in spring, by the milliner's rook. — What is it with you! You're either too young or too old! What the hell! [rated T, two-shots.]

Urahara's Lawn Mowing Service, by MeteorLeopard. — Incorrect phone numbers are a messy business. Even messier though is the business that happens after said incorrect phone call. "Fine, but I bet your girlfriend didn't call back because your lawn needs to be mowed." [rated T]

velocity, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Aim for the goal, and don't look back, no matter what. [rated T]

where angels fear to tread, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — They belong in hell. [rated K]

You Taste Like Birthday, You Look Like New Year, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. She likes his hands, Toushirou notices. Loves them, in fact. [rated M]

complete

lune, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — AU. Me and you and moonlight shivers. [[rated T] other main pairings are ByakuyaHisana, ShinjiHiyori and UlquiorraNel, so beware that HitsuKarin is not the only focus in this one.]

Waterlogged, Wind-chapped, and Sun-bleached. — They grow up together, and the slow progression of their relationship shapes their world. AU. [rated T]

Wendybird Chronicles, by the milliner's rook. — She wonders if they ever had a chance. If they might have missed it, somehow. [rated K+]

on going

Wrong Number, by Lunatasha. — Unknown (10:22): So! I just read all of the conversations I had last night while I was out drunk and thoroughly embarrassing myself and please let me apologise for bothering you (especially as I think you were working if you were in your office?) last night. I mean in hindsight I probably should have stopped messaging you as soon as it was clear you weren't who I was looking for, but drunk me apparently hates sober me so yeah, I'm sorry. That being said thank you again for helping me out even though I must have been bothering you, I appreciate it. [rated T]

Only in Dreams, by TullyBlue. — Brother, she had called him, but he spent the entire meal acting like she was a ghost. Eating with the twins, he can’t even imagine being that cold to his sisters. Yuzu’s laughter brightens his day and that admiring glint in Karin’s eye, that he only catches every once in a while, means the world to him. The so-called brother in his dreams makes Ichigo’s skin crawl. Everything else, though, he wants to see more of, to know more about, to understand. Old, wood floors, a spacious room, flowing black robes, and those swords... [[rated T] other main pairings are IchigoRukia, UryuuChad, GanjuHanatarou, so beware that HitsuKarin is not the only focus in this one.]

abandoned or on permanent hiatus, probably won’t ever post a new chapter again

Blizzard Blues, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. I heard your brother had an eight pack, Captain Hitsugaya! That he was shredded! [rated T]

Catalyst, by Etiena. — With captain-level shinigami in her family, it is no surprise that Kurosaki Karin has potential. But it isn't family which triggers her change. Instead, a chance encounter with a young shinigami captain leads to startling revelations. [rated K+]

Go Against the Grain, by Adobo-chan. — Old law deems that only a son may become the Kurosaki House's next leader. Born from this ancient tradition, a tragic betrayal and her mother's sacrifice, Karin is brought up as Kurosaki Kazuto, the 29th head of the family. [rated T]

oh sinful rose, by the milliner's rook. — AU. Five years after the monarchy is overthrown, a noble finds a forgotten princess in chains. DISCONTINUED. [rated T]

Quandary, by Glowing Blue. — Funnily enough, meeting such a spirited single mother was actually part of his job description. AU. [rated T] (I love this one so much!)

Roommate For Sale, by SavageTrickster. — AU. There are many things in life that she didn't know, but the one thing Kurosaki Karin was certain of is that her overprotective brother is going to blow his top when he meets her new roommate.

[alyssawritesss]

COMMANDER LEXA: LONG LIVE THE NEW QUEEN

Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Commander Lexa x Fem!Reader Prompt: N/A Warnings: spoilers for 3x04, angst, death, violence Notes: Y/N = Your Name

[masterlist] [view my tag list info here] [tip me for my writing if you’d like]

TAGS: @sxturn-stars​ (permanent tags) // @xxstrangegirlxxx​ @johnmurphyisbisexual​ (the 100 tags)

You stood in the town square of Polis, whipping your sword back and forth as part of your last bit of training before the fight. You felt absolutely sick to your stomach thinking about what was about to happen. Your mother Queen Nia, the leader of Azgeda, had challenged Commander Lexa to a fight to the death. However, instead of your mother fighting for herself, she had named you to fight in her honour. Should Lexa win, she would remain in power. Should you win, Azgeda would take over.

Unbeknownst of everyone, you and Lexa were close… extremely close. When your mother had banished you, Lexa had agreed to help you as long as you were to stay far away from her people out of fear that you would betray her and hurt them. Over time Lexa learned to trust you and the two of you had grown closer, developing a relationship.

You knew what you had to do; you knew what your mother was like and even though you had no sense of loyalty to her, you felt you owed your people. Sure you weren’t in charge, but they were your people. If you didn’t win this battle, you’d be letting them all down. Still, thinking about killing Lexa was something you never wanted to have to do.

“Princess Y/N… It is time. Lexa will be coming out shortly.”

You turned around, spotting your mother’s second in command. Nodding, you took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you can handle this? Azgeda is counting on you.”

“Are you questioning my capability?” You glared. “Believe me, I want nothing more than for Azgeda to be in charge.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Princess.”

“Of course.” You responded, mustering a smile. “Now, why don’t you go find my mother… I’ll be there in a moment.”

Nodding once again, the man made his way over to the crowd surrounding the arena. You watched him idly for a moment before closing your eyes. You’ve got this, Y/N… You told yourself. Feelings don’t matter, your people do.

With that final thought, your attention was stolen by the sound of cheering coming from the arena. You knew Lexa had arrived and now it was your turn to make your way over.

…

Standing in the arena side by side with Lexa facing the stage, you could feel your heart falling into your stomach. Though your expression was as cold as your mother’s heart, Lexa could see right through it; she knew this was killing you, almost as much as it was killing her.

“In single combat there is but one rule. Someone must die today.” Titus spoke, his voice soft yet loud enough for all to hear. “You may begin.”

Looking at Lexa once more, you both made your way over to opposite ends of the arena. You met with one of your people, who handed you a sword. Nodding in appreciation you turned around, spotting Lexa facing away from you.

Just do it. This has to be done… Just get it done as fast as possible.

Rushing towards Lexa, you made your move. Before your sword could come in contact with her body, she quickly drew her own and spun around, blocking it with her own causing you to fly forward as she jumped out of the way. Cheers erupted through the crowd, causing your body to tense for a moment. As Lexa raised her sword, you quickly followed suit, the two of you making your way towards each other. Once again, your swords collided, inching back and forth, closer to each others throats by the second.

As you pushed the sword closer to Lexa, you noticed the panic forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry… I never wanted this.” You mumbled.

Lexa’s eyes met yours for a moment, taking them in. Without warning, Lexa grabbed onto the opposite end of her sword and began pushing with all of her might, pushing you backwards.

You quickly regained your footing, swinging your sword in her direction once again. Lexa swung back before you knocked her to the ground, kicking her sword out of her hands. Quickly catching her breath, Lexa punched you in your leg, causing you to fall to your knees as she tugged your sword from your hands. With a smirk, Lexa made her way over to her own sword, picking it up from the ground.

In a panic you stood to your feet, stepping backwards frantically. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

At the corner of your eye you spotted one of Lexa’s people in the crowd, holding a harpoon. You rushed over, pushing them as you grabbed it from their hands. “Thanks.” You spoke, turning back around to meet Lexa’s gaze.

The two of you approached the centre of the arena, glaring heavily. You both began swinging once again, you managing to knock one of the swords from Lexa’s hand. As she tumbled backwards slightly, you continued you swing, her barley able to keep up. As she lifted her sword once again you took your chance, lifting your leg and delivering a swift kick to her chest causing her to fly backwards, the final sword escaping her grip.

You swung the harpoon around in your hand, walking over to her. “Game over, Lexa…” You spoke, your voice booming. Taking a deep breath, you lifted the harpoon higher, driving it into the ground with every once of strength inside of you. Before you could even take in what was happening, Lexa rolled out from under you, the harpoon hitting just her hair. Delivering a kick to your leg once again, Lexa sent you backwards as she quickly picked herself off the ground.

Both of you stood face to face once again, Lexa without anything to defend herself. You hesitated for a moment, breaking your composure. Lexa took note, using your weakness against you. She charged towards you, catching you off guard and causing you to swing the harpoon around without much direction. In only a mater of seconds Lexa had managed to knock the harpoon from your grip, grabbing it for herself. With the impact you fell to your knees once more.

Lexa eyed you for a moment before grabbing the handle and middle of the harpoon, driving the bar into your chin with such great force your head flew backwards.

With you now lying on the ground, Lexa towering over you, you took a shaky breath.

“Get up!” Your mother yelled from the stage as she stood from her seat. “If you die, you don’t die a princess, you die a coward!”

Lexa watched your mother for a moment before looking back down at you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, shaking your head. “Just get it over with, alright?” You spoke, your voice barley there.

Taking a deep breath, Lexa’s eyes remained on yours. “Jus drein jus daun.” She spoke, lifting the harpoon. You closed your eyes, awaiting the impact. After what felt like an eternity, you heard screams erupt around you.

You slowly opened your eyes, Lexa still towering over you. She smiled lightly, her gaze turning towards the crowd as you sit up, looking around. Your face turns pale as you realize what had happened; your mother remained in her seat, now pinned to it with a harpoon through her chest.

Looking to Lexa, your jaw dropped.

“The queen is dead!” She spoke. “Long live the new queen!”

As cheers began to fill your ears, your eyes remained glued to Lexa. She looked back at you, offering out her hand, which you accepted. Now standing, Lexa looked you in the eyes.

“Don’t ever be sorry…”

~~~~~~~~~~

A really old piece (requested) from my really old blog. I totally forgot about this one but I still love it so much. Kinda want to do a mini series for it... Would anyone want that? Also, sorry for the spam for my tagged peeps, I’m just super inspired to write/post and impatient today lmfao Want to send me a request? You can do so HERE. Please remember to note and/or reblog if you enjoyed!!

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #207: Beyond a Shadow...

May, 1981

“After countless centuries HE LIVES AGAIN! THE SHADOW LORD COMETH!”

He cometh riding upon a tornado like its a mighty sand worm. What a guy, this Shadow Lord.

Honestly seeing the Avengers tumbling about in a tornado cracks me up every time. Especially Wonder Man who looks nonchalant about it aside from being ass over head.

So I don’t think we’ve really talked about it but this period of Avengers is kind of between main writers.

Since issue 200 and its four writers, we’ve had David Michelinie and Roger Stern on the two-part adaptation of that Ultron novel, David Michelinie for that weird story with the Crawlers in the sewers; Jim Shooter, David Michelinie, and Bob Budiansky for the Yellow Claw two-parter, Bill Mantlo for the everything is on fire story and now Bob Budiansky and Danny Fingeroth for this issue and the next. We start getting a consistent writer again starting in #211.

I wonder what was going on behind the scenes around this time.

Anyway, onward.

So we start the issue with who I assume is the Shadow Lord. But he’s not riding a tornado, like Pecos Bill. He’s standing on an invisible ocean structure of some kind. Apparently a mysterious invisible ocean structure of some kind that hasn’t been seen for almost two millennia.

And yet, someone has kindly painted the title of the issue in English on the mysterious invisible ocean structure of some kind.

Some guy, maybe the Shadow Lord: “The dreaded time has at last arrived, the moment I prayed would never come... the moment I knew would surely come. He is soon to return, and only the power entrusted to me is capable of stopping him. And even that power may not prove sufficient.”

“With every passing second, my city and myself pass ever more fully into the Earth’s plane of existence. Would that the cause of my return here from the barren vastnesses of the Shadow World was as joyous as the glow of this new day’s sun.”

“But the grim responsibility of an entire race is my unwelcome inheritance. It is a duty I cannot shirk. Alas, I must take what comfort I can in knowing that no matter what the result of the coming debacle, I will at least be free to rejoin Ayshera, she whom my heart holds most dear... though whether our reunion will be in celebration of victory -- or in darkest mourning for the ashes of this planet -- none willy truly know until the final battle.”

Some Guy sure is helpfully monologuing his entire life story here. And even so he manages to be vague, inside his own mind, about the nature of the threat he faces. Way to preserve the mystery, Guy.

Also, he’s from the Shadow World so he may be a Yugioh.

Anyway, as one might expect, a city appearing in the middle of the ocean out of nowhere is of alarm so US aircraft carrier Poseidon shows up and starts yelling at Some Guy.

Some Guy decides that they sound mad but he doesn’t have time for lengthy explanations so instead he gestures and the winds and waves start whipping up.

Welp! Seems like the US Poseidon is going on an Adventure!

Meanwhile, Mt. Vesuvius!

Yup. Its that kind of story, the kind partially set at Vesuvius.

Some archeologists are digging in the foothills of the mountain in what has been a fruitless several weeks of archeology but one of the archeologists finds a hand shaped object which may be a hand.

They mistake it for a statue at first but realize its actually a perfectly preserved lava mummified corpse.

And while they’re busy congratulating each other about how wealthy and famous this discovery will make them, they fail to notice the hand moving its finger shaped fingers.

And elsewhere again, the best damn thing.

A cowboy shouts “SLAP LEATHER, YA GALOOT!” and then gets shot by a cannon.

This isn’t the Wild West of the America, this is a spaghetti western film set and the director is very upset at Black Bart’s shitty death acting. How hard is it to get hit by a cannon and then to fall down and pretend to die like you just got hit by a cannon?

You wouldn’t think there’s a wrong way to get shot by a cannon but you’d be wrong.

Simon Williams, Wonder Man: “I’m sorry, Mr. Bertolini. It’s just that, being Wonder Man, it’s hard for me to pretend those cannonballs are hurting me when I can hardly feel them.”

Mr. Bertolini: “True, signore Wonder Man, but I hired you because I thought you could-a act!”

Oh yeah, Mr. Bertolini talks like Mario. So that’s another tally for Marvel’s respect of other countries and cultures.

Aside from this being the seventh take on a ‘guy gets hit by a cannonball, beefs it’ scene, cannonballs are expensive. The cannonball that bounced off Wonder Man’s midsection looks fine but maybe you can’t just reuse them.

The filming breaks for lunch and Wonder Man wanders over to where his moral support is.

His moral support, of course, being Beast.

And he is moral supporting but he’s also multitasking with some women because even in Italy, women are just fascinated by blue fur. Furries are universal.

Wonder Man doesn’t feel supported though and this lousy spaghetti western film is a good opportunity for him.

If you remember, the last project we saw him get was as a cheetah print leotard wearing muscle man on a kids show and he got fired for making the host Uncle Elmer look ridiculous.

(Revealed to Simon’s chagrin in #194, lost to mishap in #201)

Being in an actual movie, even a spaghetti western, is the boost his career needs.

(I think we need to confront the actual possibility that Wonder Man is not a very good actor. But he might be a good stunt man if he can learn to act like things hurt)

Wonder Man’s publicist Rachel Palmer shows up as well and wow. Rachel has never appeared before and given the fillery nature of these chaotic no consistent writer times may not appear beyond this story. But you instantly get the sense of their working relationship.

And they have good banter too.

Wonder Man: “Wait. There she is -- Rachel Palmer -- the apple of my eye, the light of my life, the bane of my existence!”

Rachel: “If you delivered your lines that well in front of the cameras, Simon, you might actually keep this job -- which’ll make it just a little easier to hype you as a star back in the States.”

Wonder Man: “Your encouraging words are a constant source of inspiration, Rachel. But I’d appreciate it if you’d confine them to your press releases.”

Rachel: “You’ve got me all wrong, Simon. I hope this whole thing turns out well for you. Really.”

Wonder Man: “And for yourself. After all, if you make me a big name, you can ride along on my coat-tails and become a media hotshot -- instead of being stuck as a flak for Grade D Westerns.”

Rachel: “No, Simon. I--”

Wonder Man: “Forget it, lady. I’m a big boy. I know that all’s fair in love -- and show biz.”

And then he walks off towards his trailer, satisfied at getting the last word with someone whose job it is to make him look good. Beast says that he thinks Wonder Man was too hard on her and that Rachel probably digs Wonder Man.

Wonder Man: “Maybe you’re right. But I still can’t get over feeling that Rachel’s motivated by sheer self-interest and everything else places a distant second.”

(I’m pretty sure she does dig Wonder Man because unbeknowst to Wonder Man and Beast, she follows them to the trailer, wanting to convince Wonder Man that she’s not as self-serving as he thinks and also to invite him to a romantic dinner)

Anyway, Wonder Man’s social life isn’t important. At all. And not right now. Because when he and Beast go into Wonder Man’s trailer and discover the Avengers’ emergency signal briefcase is BEEP BEEPing.

It’s Cap and there’s an emergency situation that demands immediate investigation.

A brand new island city has just popped up in the middle of the Mediterranean slash off the coast of Majorca from out of nowhere and the government wants the Avengers to investigate.

Presumably the US government.

Because if I know anything about mysterious island cities appearing from nowhere - and I know exactly one thing - by jingo, they start wars!

Beast is enjoying his vacation so asks why the US Sixth Fleet doesn’t handle it instead. They’re actually paid to do things while on an ocean. But Iron Man just says that the fleet has had problems.

And with a little reading comprehension we can guess what problems. Because we’ve seen it. Its not a mystery.

Iron Man has a Stark plane sent to pick Beast and Wonder Man up and fly them to Majorca. Or somewhere thereabouts. I don’t know if Majorca has or had an airport.

Wonder Man bemoans that he’ll never be a movie star if he keeps leaving the set to go have exciting comic book superhero adventures.

Which is a little like complaining about being too handsome. Ya jerk.

And remember how Rachel Palmer was peeping on them? No? Scroll up a little and look at the above panels again. Back? And remember how Rachel Palmer was peeping on them?

Her media senses are tingling and telling her that she should definitely go check out the city that appeared in the middle of the ocean. She’s much intrepid for not a reporter.

Meanwhile, some slice of life filler fluff that doesn’t matter but that I find delightful.

And if this liveblog isn’t about sharing things that I find delightful then what is it about? Exhaustively recounting plots to comic books from decades ago? That’s just a side benefit!

The call to action back at Avengers Mansion comes right when Wanda is having Vision move a couch.

Vision: “Wanda, while it may be true that I am capable of moving this couch about all day, it seems a gross misuse of my android abilities to do so.”

Wanda: “Maybe if we just move those shelves then you just put it down there. We’re Avengers, not interior decorators.

This is the content I eagerly crave.

So back in not America, Beast and Wonder Man complain about the plane ride but passing over the ocean they see what trouble the Sixth Fleet was having.

Some Guy, Possibly Shadow Lord managed to strand the Poseidon aircraft carrier fully on a deserted island.

And I was wrong about the plane taking them to Majorca. Its apparently taking them to Poseidon because it lands on the ship’s airstrip so the two Avengers can consult the stranded sailors about what the heck is going on.

Captain Paul Garrison tells them that they were investigating the mysterious new island/city (not mentioning that they were also yelling at it) when a tidal wave suddenly swelled up and carried the Poseidon several miles and left it on this island.

And apparently the same thing happened to any other plane and ship that attempted to approach the island. Thwarted by winds and waves.

Damn you, nature!

Anyway, its all rather mysterious but Wonder Man figures

“Well, we were sent here to investigate. So... let’s investigate.”

And Wonder Man rockets off to investigate the city. While giving Beast a piggyback ride.

Which. Amazing image. Bless this issue for its bounty of amazing images.

Bear in mind that the captain said that the aircraft carrier was carried several miles. Wonder Man’s belt rockets have impressive duration considering he can’t be carrying much fuel on his person.

When they reach the city, they find a localized hurricane hovering right above it. But Wonder Man just flies down through the eye of the storm to get to the city.

Some Guy Shadow Lord is surprised because he had been expecting big boats and planes. Not a guy with rocket pants and a blue gorilla riding on his back.

But he’s able to shoo them away just as easily as any big thing, with a wave of his hand summoning a wind that carries Wonder Man and passenger Beast away from the city.

Meanwhile, Rachel Palmer is also here. She spent all her money renting a plane and then a boat but she’s going to get to that mysterious city and get an exclusive inside story!

So is she a journalist? Or what? She’s Lois Laneing but as far as we’ve heard her job is to convince people they want to see Wonder Man do stuff in movies.

Wonder Man spots her and tries to fly to her rescue but two water spouts spurt up to ruin this rescue plan.

The first one launches Rachel’s boat into the air and smashes it to pieces. The second blasts Wonder Man out of the sky preventing him from saving Rachel from falling to her death.

But unseen by either of the Avengers, a strong breeze safely lowers Rachel to the ground of the city.

Because what is an Avengers comic without men developing weird and intense feelings for a nearby woman.

Some Guy: “How beautiful she is, how like my own Ayshera. And, also like Ayshera, she is courageous... and more than a little headstrong.”

Cool. I hope this doesn’t get weird. Or that we’re not asked to sympathize with a guy whose only ‘sympathetic’ trait is a possessive attraction to a woman. Looking at you, Living Laser. And, I guess, Graviton.

Anyway, Wonder Man doesn’t see Rachel getting rescued by an airbender so he works himself into a lather.

Wonder Man: “That sinks it! It’s one thing to attack naval ships and planes... one thing to attack Avengers... But when he kills an innocent woman who could do him no harm -- that guy’s gonna answer to WONDER MAN!”

Honestly, I think you’re selling Rachel short. I’m sure she could do harm if she put her mind to it.  Like, what if she covered him in bees. That would suck.

Anyway, Wonder Man rages through the city’s protective winds and then gets SAFUUSH!’d between two walls of solid water.

He’s left sputtering and disoriented in the ocean. At least until some hooks hook down from the Quinjet, hook Wonder Man, and then hook him up into the ship.

I didn’t know that the Quinjet had hooks for grabbing people out of the ocean but I am thrilled.

Ideally, the Avengers would use their newfound ability to vaudeville hook people into orbit more often. I can think of so many instances where it would be useful, or at least hilarious.

Anyway, Wonder Man apprises the other Avengers into the situation.

Meanwhile, not dead Rachel Palmer wakes up and finds the Shadow Lord brood slouching in a chair and watching her while she was unconscious.

She is alarmed that he’s just sitting there staring but he basically goes ‘DON’T WORRY I READ YOUR MIND TO LEARN YOUR NAME AND LANGUAGE’ and then decides to explain his entire backstory.

Shadow Lord: “The city in which we stand is the Shadow Realm and I... I am called the Shadow Lord!”

DAMMIT I KNEW HE WAS A YUGIOH!

Anyway.

THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO! Give or take! An ancient tribe decided to move to an island to isolate themselves from “primitive, superstitious neighbors who feared [their] more advanced society.”

Off to a good start with this guy.

Free of the mundane concerns of living in a world that hated and feared them, they were able to peacefully ALL BECOME WIZARDS WHO COULD CONTROL THE FORCES OF NATURE.

Maybe the X-Men are onto something.

So the Shadow Lord’s people learned to control, winds, waves, earth, and maybe fire so what I’m saying is that it was an entire island of Avatars.

Boom, sequel idea. Give me millions of dollars, Nickelodeon.

“Though veiled in mystery, rumors of our existence spread throughout the world. We were feared and shunned by the other peoples of the Earth -- which allowed us to continue our studies undisturbed.”

“Those who mistrusted anything they could not comprehend... they called us witches and sorcerers. Those who knew and understood us called us... the Earth Lords!”

“For centuries our sole purposes were to augment our knowledge of the Earth’s forces and to maintain the natural balance between these forces. Otherwise, we had no interest in the day-to-day affairs of the outside world.”

Maybe I was wrong about them being Yugioh. Maybe they’re the Time Lords from the Doctor Who.

Anyway, the Earth Lords were happy sitting on their island being Avatars but over the eons they sensed a disturbance in the Force, for I must reference all the things.

"Over the eons, we became aware of a seemingly immortal, human force of awesome destruction, one who could potentially plunge mankind into an irreversible slide to its doom.”

“Singlehandedly he could destroy towns. With an army beside him -- countries. Time and again, he did. It was when he finally joined the legions of Rome at the peak of the Empire’s power... that we first feared the balance of nature was in danger of being destroyed. Rome could forever take over the world.”

The Earth Lords tried on several occasions to destroy this menace. We don’t get to know what constituted these efforts and that’s disappointing because of what the final successful attempt was.

By 79 AD, they knew he was on the slopes of Mt. Vesuvius so they caused it to erupt, just to bury this one guy under hundreds of tons of rock and ash and lava.

Mission accomplished.

Except for the little thing where the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius also wiped out Pompeii and Herculaneum and other cities people know significantly less about, killing over 20,000 people.

As things go, that’s pretty dire amount of incidental deaths to kill one person. And the Earth Lords realize that this was a pretty major fuck up.

So they decided that they couldn’t be trusted with their powers and that they would disperse into the outside world to live and die as people do and have their powers dissipate over the years.

But before they did that, they discovered that the seemingly immortal guy they hit in the face with a volcano was somehow still alive somehow. Just trapped. Under hundreds of tons of rock and ash and lava that cooled into rock.

They killed thousands and didn’t even permanently kill the dude they were trying to kill? That’s pretty incompetent. They really can’t be trusted with their power.

Since he eventually might get out and resume being a dick, the Earth Lords drew lots and chose one of their number, the Some Guy later known as the Shadow Lord from the Shadow Realm, to forever watch over the city alone and await the day that the immortal guy would again walk the land.

And to help him solo the dude that took an entire city of people and a volcano to deal with, the Earth Lords concentrated all of their powers into this one Shadow Lord guy and taught him how to send himself and the city into a twilight plane of nothingness which is back to being called the Shadow World.

So this might also be Twilight Princess.

For two thousand years the Shadow Lord in the Shadow Realm in the Shadow World observed Earth and waited. And now, it seems that the seemingly immortal dude is back.

Rachel: “But I don’t understand. How can one man threaten a whole world -- and live for thousands of years in solid rock?”

Shadow Lord: “This is no mere man, my dear... this is the Berserker!”

And speak of the devil and we scene transition to him because we scene transition to Pompeii.

The lava mummified human figure that seemed to move before has stopped beating about with finger twitches and has gotten up to rampage around and backhand archeologists.

Don’t feel bad though. They were in it for the money and fame, those fiends.

Back at the city of Shadow Realm, the Avengers suddenly show up as a full team and basically enter swinging. Iron Man even blasts a wall for no reason.

Rachel tries to tell the Avengers that Shadow Lord means no harm but the Avengers can’t hear her over the sounds of Wonder Man loudly reassuring Rachel that they’re here to rescue her.

Iron Man exploding a wall for no reason probably also didn’t help.

So Rachel instead tries to tell Shadow Lord that the Avengers are a force for good. While he can hear her, he chooses to ignore her.

Using his powers of being the Avatar, he tries to pull a rocks fall but nobody dies. Rocks falling is something the Avengers deal with panache and also lasers and punches.

Some panache. Beast’s skycycle gets hit by a rock and he ends up leaping onto one of the spires of the city to avoid crash. And then, like a cat who climbs a tree except its a building in this context, Beast has a hard time figuring out how to get down from there.

While the larger Avengers punch and laser boulders and jump onto spires, Wasp just flies right in and shoots Shadow Lord in the eyebrow.

Amazing. Another good use of Wasp powers, being able to get in close while the opponent thinks the team is distracted at a distance.

Shadow Lord is none too pleased to be shot in the eyebrow by a tiny insect-sized flying woman and decides that a particularly karmic punishment is required.

Shadow Lord: “An insect-sized flyling woman! What sorcery is this? But if an insect you be, then it is only fitting I ensnare you in a cocoon of living wind... a cocoon which will grow and envelop your so-called fellow Avengers!”

And as Rachel still pleads with Shadow Lord to knock it off, he summons a giant tornado that suck in all of the Avengers (save Beast stuck up on his spire).

Shadow Lord even has the tornado carry him along, the better to continue mocking the Avengers as he carries them to their doom.

Shadow Lord: “You hopeless children! Did you actually think to defeat me, to deter me from my purpose? I who who command the earth and wind themselves to do my bidding?”

Yeah, dude. Definitely not sounding like a supervillain now. Cannot fathom why the Avengers are assuming you are one.

Iron Man manages to escape the tornado by firing his boot-jets at maximum, sending him flying free with a SHA-BOOSH! but also carrying him far away because momentum.

Shadow Lord then creates a whirlpool in the ocean and has his tornado carry the Avengers towards it. The whirlpool goes to the bottom of the ocean. Which then cracks open to reveal bubbling magma.

That’s right. The Shadow Lord is going to shoot them out of a tornado, into a whirlpool and into magma beneath the ocean floor.

Its. At least more precise than hitting them with a volcano, I’ll give him that. Definitely feels like overkill to go from rocks to tornado-whirlpool-magma execution but its definitely more precise.

Somewhat more precise.

Because when Iron Man manages to slow himself down to turn back he notices that a yacht is being swamped by the waves Shadow Lord is churning up.

And because of heroism, he takes the time to scoop the yacht out of the ocean and rest it safely on an island.

Geez. There’s a lot of boats being beached in this story.

Shadow Lord actually sees this. And a thought starts penetrating his thick skull that maybe he should have listened to Rachel.

Shadow Lord: “The armored one paused in his attack on me to save those people -- innocent people... which is more than we were able to do 2,000 years ago. Perhaps, as Rachel says, they are not agents of evil...”

He decides that he’ll stop throwing them out of a tornado into a whirlpool into magma but he doesn’t get the chance to put that train of thought on the tracks.

Beast waves Iron Man over. From his perch on the spire he’s noticed that the building he’s on is cracking from the strain of all the power Shadow Lord is throwing around even though he’s not been throwing it at that building.

So Beast deduces that the city is key to Shadow Lord’s power in some way and should have the shit beaten out of it.

And as Iron Man starts punching some wall, Shadow Lord doubles over in pain and the tornado he was about to dissipate dissipates.

The other Avengers get free and decide hey, follow the leader.

Jocasta: “The battle has truly just begun. Malevolent power such as this must not be allowed to exist. We must follow Iron Man’s lead and destroy the city -- totally!”

So unnoticed by the Avengers as they level the city into a pile of rubble, Shadow Lord staggers and swoons at Rachel’s feet.

But even dying, he still has some exposition bottled up.

To be fair, he’s been isolated for 2,000 years with no one to talk to.

He explains that the powers of an entire population of Avatars was way too great to be contained in one squishy mortal body so the powers were instead imbued in the city itself.

And with the city destroyed, it can no longer serve as a source of power and also can’t keep him alive anymore.

He’s honestly not too broken up over it. Since the Avengers are valiant and worthy, they can pick up his unfinished business while he goes and dies and gets to reunite with his girlfriend who died sometime during those 2,000 years.

Shadow Lord: “But please understand... I am as much to blame for today’s events as anyone... I bear you no malice... we misjudged each other. I have done my best... no more can be expected of a man... perhaps you will succeed... where I have failed. So do not mourn my passing... for me, death is but the long-awaited door that opens to my beloved... Ayshera.”

And the Avengers realize belatedly ‘we done goofed.’

“A sad -- and confused -- group of heroes grimly watches the passing of the Shadow Lord... and only then does the cruel truth reveal itself to them: what they had thought to be one of their greatest triumphs is instead... one of their most bitter defeats.”

Oh, and as I expect they’ll soon find out, the Berserker has been kicking the Italian army’s ass near Pompeii so that’s probably escalating into a bit of a situation and they just accidentally killed the guy who could have helped with that. Although in fairness, he deliberately ignored Rachel when she told him that the Avengers were heroes.

Like he said, he fucked up too.

Still, while its a bit of a Marvel tradition to have mighty misunderstanding fights, I don’t think they tend to result in people dying. One for the history books.

Next time: the Berserker.

Follow @essential-avengers​. Also like and reblog. And send me Avengers triumphs that are way more impressive than beating up a city.

[rileythefool]

The Button

You can change your appearance however you would like, at any time, as much as you want. However, if someone compliments your appearance you will be stuck that way forever.

I looked from the blue button to my friend’s eager expression with unveiled scepticism.

“I’m serious Jacob! It’s the real deal, I promise!” Brooklyn held the button out to me again, practically forcing it into my hands. 

It looked like the stupid “easy button” from the old 90’s ads, and old enough to be from then as well. 

“It says something different for everyone, you can twist the top to get a new choice but I don’t know how many times you are allowed to pass before it stops working." 

I could hardly understand her as she blathered on but I took the plastic button from her anyways, being careful not to press it as I turned it over.

"What does it say?” She practically held my own hands up to my face to get me to read it to her.

“Can’t you read it?” I looked over the plain white text, still half expecting some soul-less business slogan rather than something a genie might say.

She was practically bouncing in place as she seemed to expect me to mirror her enthusiasm.

“I can’t! It’s different for everyone! Tell me tell me tell me!”

I read it again, paraphrasing as I went. “It says if I press it I can shapeshift but if someone compliments me i’ll be stuck forever.”

“Thats awesome!" 

I grimaced, displeased that she could somehow be more hyper and over-enthusiastic. 

"Usually the downside is far worse– like, people die worse.”

I suddenly felt worried about what that implied about when she pressed it. “What was yours then?" 

Her smile faltered as she opened her mouth to reply. "If I tell you it goes away.” She seemed to realize how flakey her explanation was because she began to plead with me as I handed the button back.

“Come oooonnnn. You’ve got nothing to lose! It will be awesome, I promise.”

“If it will get you off my back…" 

I immediately felt guilty for being so curmudgeonly but she didn’t seem to care. She squealing in delight as I pressed the button. 

Nothing happened.

"Happy?”

Brooklyn nodded, still bouncing in excitement as she let me give her the button back, surprisingly it was blank now but that hardly seemed like an effect impressive enough to prove the button was real.

I shook my hands out and steadied my breathing to see if there was anything to notice.

But again, nothing happened. 

“Yeah, I don’t know.” I shrugged, surprised to find I hoped to feel something as well. 

“Try wishing something was different about your appearance. Out loud.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wish I had red hair.”

Brooklyn’s eyes went the size of saucers and I couldn’t help but doubt her theatrics as she scrambled to pull her phone out. In no time she had taken a picture and handed it to me. 

Red hair…

A spark of excitement grew in me but I pushed it down, hastily checking my reflection with my own phone just in case she had used a filter.

Red. Fucking. Hair.

“Holy shit." 

Brooklyn nodded. Her lips clamped tight and she slapped a hand over her mouth too as she looked at me in awe.

"Okay, okay, wow. Uh…” I started to feel a bit lightheaded as my mind raced with possibilities. I could look however I wanted.

“I wish I had perfect skin." 

Brooklyn looked ridiculous as she did a little happy dance in front of me.

"I wish I had dark brown hair again, curly brown hair”

I eyed my reflection, feeling increasingly vain as my hair poofed up a bit in dark curls.

“I wish I was five foot four.”

I felt dizzy for a moment as I shrunk, now looking up to Brooklyn as she raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Fantastic." 

I paced as I thought further about what I could try. I felt a few changes begin to happen automatically, but as I expanded my possibilities I paused. I looked at Brooklyn, still watching me in awe as I experimented.

"Not a peep.” I tried to sound serious, scared of how she would react to my next idea. 

She mimed twisting a lock and throwing away the key and nodded, curiosity plain on her expression as she waited.

I didn’t have the heart to say it but I could tell I was thinking it loud enough as the most drastic change began. I felt a stretching sensation on the soles of my feet as they shrank in my shoes, followed by the rustling of my jeans as my legs turned smooth and redistributed fat. the feeling of my jeans changed the most, growing tighter around the pockets and thighs as the belt loosened the slightest bit again. Already loose from my height loss, they now fit horribly on me. My chest swelled slightly, noticeably filling out as my shoulders narrowed. The sleeves of my hoodie fell over my fingertips but beyond that I felt the soft lining on my skin rather than just brushing the hair on my arms like it had before. I looked at my hands as the bones shrunk slightly, looking subtly more delicate as the remaining hair vanished and my joints shrank. Finally I felt my hair fall in waves near my shoulder as my jaw ached momentarily. 

I ignored the muffled high pitched squeals of shock from Brooklyn as I looked at my reflection on my phone. I pushed down my confused feelings as I took it in. I liked it. A lot. Probably as much as I thought I would.

I felt like a red flashing light was going off in my head as I looked at myself. I wasn’t supposed to like this. Was I? Boys don’t wish they were girls but wouldn’t any straight guy be attracted to their own gender-bent appearance? This feeling wasn’t attraction but that difference hardly mattered. I had a superpower that other guys didn’t have so I dismissed the distinction as meaningless. 

I resisted the urge to ask Brooklyn what she thought, I could already tell she was repeating “What the fuck” over and over in her head.

“Cool right?”

Her eyes were still wide as she nodded.

I took a few more pictures before putting my phone away and focusing on changing back. I grew back a couple inches slowly which helped my jeans fit again but besides that, not much changed. I tried focusing on my hair. But even after a few tries the style was always pretty much the same butch femme look. I tried to make my boobs go away but they only shrank to be hideable. My hips and butt would only shrink so much as well. Brooklyn’s confusion mirrored mine as I continued to tweak my appearance, some things that I changed just flat out wouldn’t stick. I grew a thin beard but the moment I lost focus it disappeared to perfectly smooth skin. My breasts grew back to a small but modest size while I wasn’t paying attention and my height seemed to shrink back toward 5’ as I became increasingly flustered.

“What’s wrong, Jacob?” Brooklyn spoke slowly and carefully, graciously screening for anything that could be perceived as a compliment as I paced.

“I don’t know! the button said I could change however I wanted but I can’t seem to change back!”

My voice lifted as I spoke, becoming slightly shrill as it rose to a more feminine register. I growled in frustration, blushing as it came out stereotypically femme. 

“Do you want to go back to looking like a guy?” Her voice came out as a suspicious whisper.

“Of course I do!” My voice deepened for an instant before rising again, prompting another frustrated groan. 

I felt more scared than anything as I looked at how my appearance had progressed. Every proportion, every detail looked utterly agreeable, not like some photoshopped model but just like a real girl. A girl so completely different from my former appearance that I could never claim to be more than my own sister. I scarcely could pretend I was my own fraternal twin.

 "Are you sure?“ Brooklyn spoke even softer as tears blurred my vision.

"Of course I’m sure! I was just curious is all! I’m supposed to be able to look however I want! Why can’t I change back?”

“You only get to look how you want though…” Brooklyn’s calm demeanor was off-putting in contrast to her earlier hysterics.

I cowered a bit as she held my shoulders. Her eyes seemed to pierce me to my core. 

“I…” I stammered. A dark part of me wanted to lash out, to blame her for showing me this button and throwing me into this predicament, but the truth stunned me silent. “I might want to be a girl but I have to be a boy, I need to be a boy…”

She made gentle shushing noises as she brought me into a hug. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“But what if there is nothing to figure out? What if I can’t bring myself to want anything but this?” I hid my face in her jacket, it felt weird to be so outwardly distraught, sure I’d had breakdowns before but they felt more like I was coiling up and packing things down. Falling apart like this felt like a dam breaking and I was wildly unprepared to cope with it.

“It will be okay…” Brooklyn trailed off and It occured to me that she was still screening her words to help me. I felt a warm appreciation but I found myself latching back on to my panic and shame automatically. 

I followed that fear to its source, behind the weak concerns about adjusting to a new body I found the real terror. I would be known. I had spent my whole life tailoring my presentation for other people and now in a few short minutes I had thrown that all away. People wouldn’t see what I wanted them to see. They would see me.

I felt the leather of Brooklyn’s jacket bunch up in my hands as I held her tighter and I nearly choked as she hugged me closer in response. I felt grounded by it. It was only one example but I still had a friend, my best friend, who still loved me. 

I felt a bit of the whimsical excitement from before return as I stepped back. There was a pinch on my ear as a piercing appeared and I felt a settling sensation as I returned to the presentation I wanted for me. 

I couldn’t help but smile as Brooklyn wiped away my tears. I could see sincere concern in her expression. The same deep and loving care I had always known. 

Butterflies tumbled in my stomach as I made up my mind. The finality of the decision brought me a perverse comfort as I arrived at something to be sure of.

“How do I look?” I managed a smile, amused at her silent face journey from panic to understanding and a sort of pride beaming down at me.

“You’re beautiful.”

[forthelulzy]

Heaven By Violence: Chapter 6

When there's nowhere else to run Is there room for one more son One more son If you can hold on, if you can hold on Hold on — “All These Things That I've Done”, The Killers

To put it mildly, Dorian Pavus is up to his well-groomed mustache in it.

He knows. The Elder One knows by now that they ran, knows exactly who betrayed him. Well, never let it be said he is a coward. He was never on their side. Felix and Gereon Alexius are dead, having outlived their usefulness. There is nothing for him now but warning the Inquisition.

The south is bloody cold, but Dorian can’t feel it now. The horse’s sides are heaving; it will collapse any moment. He reaches down and presses his palm to the beast’s flesh. A burst of light and Haste takes hold; the horse whinnies in fright but keeps going, the snowy countryside turning into little more than a blur. Thank goodness there aren’t any trees nearby—

The horse drops out from under him and he’s flying, head over heels in a bundle of robes. He doesn’t have time to make a peep before he’s tumbling down, rocks jabbing into his sides. Tacere yelps somewhere, and the horse screams. It feels a frightfully long time before he hits the bottom of the hill. He lands in a pile of snow, at least. Small victories.

He stares up at the sky for a moment, the sky that now only contains traces of the Breach that has been there for months. Green clouds swirl around the area where the hole to the Fade used to be. The Herald — and her templars — closed the Breach an hour or two ago, while the two of them were running. Yes. He was running.

Tacere’s pointed face blocks out the sky above. Those amber eyes reflect any amount of light in the dark. They almost seem to glow now.

“Come on,” he hisses in his strong Orlesian accent, uncharacteristically grim. “Haven’s that way. We can make it ahead of the army if we get moving.”

Dorian takes the offered hand and the elf helps him up. The horse is to his left, all four legs broken and throat cut. The wound steams in the cold, but the beast is already dead. Tacere’s work.

His ankle twists unnaturally and he stumbles with a curse. He knows only enough healing to take the worst of the pain away, and he bites down hard on his lip as he follows Tacere into the darkness, heading towards the light in the distance. Haven must be celebrating the Herald’s victory. They won’t be for long.

***

“Why exactly are you here?” he had demanded the day he met Tacere in Redcliffe. The rogue had materialized one day in the tavern and acted like he’d always been there. It would fool most people but not Dorian, who had used the same trick himself when forced to interact with the locals. He avoided them in case Alexius caught on, but a few cases demanded it.

“Darling!” Tacere had said, and if he had a scarf he would have fluttered it in shock. “I am here for the same reasons you are. Mostly.”

Neither of them had been in Redcliffe for long, but already Dorian knew he would have to leave, warn the fledgling Inquisition. Word was the Herald of Andraste had ignored the mages’ plight and gone directly to the templars, who didn’t even want her help. But he felt it his duty to at least let her know about the Venatori and the Elder One behind them.

“Oh, really? And what might these other reasons be, hmm?”

Tacere had smirked, which then grew into a wide grin. “Oh, just looking for someone.” The words were innocent but the grin was not. “Why so suspicious, mon chéri? I could ask you why you’re here, but I won’t because I already know.” He winked and slipped away, fading into the shadows before Dorian could hunt him down and force him to explain what that meant. Now they are crashing through the forest (why is there suddenly a forest?), within fireball distance of Haven, and he still doesn’t know what Tacere wants. He would have thought murder or espionage, but he doesn’t want to suspect the elf of something he will probably be accused of as a ‘Vint’. Dorian can feel the army behind him, the impending doom. He loves dramatics, but this is ridiculous.

Tacere has broken through the treeline up ahead, and a moment later Dorian does as well, emerging onto a well-trod path. The elf looks back at him, then his eyes are drawn to something above Dorian’s head and the look on his face really doesn’t belong there, it just doesn’t—

“Run!” Tacere seizes him by the arm and then they are sprinting for the gates of Haven. A sprawling camp is set up outside, but everyone must be celebrating within the village. Or maybe not — a watch-bell rings somewhere, and shouts of alarm reach Dorian’s ears even through the blood pumping furiously to keep him at pace with Tacere. The elf is not injured, but he is shorter, and that is the only reason Dorian isn’t left behind in the snow.

They reach the gates and Dorian fully intends to ram into them, making a suitably dramatic entrance, but the doors hold tight and both of them bounce off, Dorian landing on his back — the slush seeps into his robes in an instant — and Tacere doing a rather impressive roll to pop up a few paces away.

He scrambles up, muttering a curse. “If someone could open these, I’d appreciate it!” There is no response from Haven, and he turns to stare at his rogue acquaintance. “Now wha—”

He’s talking to the Venatori sneaking up on him, apparently, and he squeaks and dives out of the way before the zealot’s sword comes down. He conjures a fireball; the Venatori drops without a sound but for the crackling of his burning clothes. Dorian grimaces — the smell — and looks for Tacere. Time for another plan.

The vanguard is upon them, and the elf is currently weaving around no less than six of them, dodging blows and sliding his daggers into flesh with wild abandon. Dorian could swear the little elf is laughing. He picks off the ones on the edges of the fight; though Tacere is in his element and doing just fine, and Dorian is a bit unnerved by the bloodthirsty way he teases the Venatori, he would be remiss not to try to help.

He doesn’t hear the doors open behind him, doesn’t realize the templars have come out to investigate until his magic cuts off and he is seized by a full-body spasm. He collapses, frothing at the mouth, and twitches as his vision fades and returns, fades and returns. Was that… a smite? He’s never been smited before — how dare they!

Gradually regaining control of his limbs, he pushes himself up, gets his face out of the slush and spits out pink-tinged foam. His whole body aches, like he’s run out his mana over and over for hours. His head spins, but at least they haven’t killed him yet. He can be grateful for that, if nothing else.

“Dorian? Dorian!” Tacere’s lilt echoes over the sudden silence, and then the elf is kneeling beside him. He’s drenched in blood, hands covered in the stuff reaching out to Dorian’s face, and the mage pulls away. Tacere drops his hands. “What the fuck did you do?” This is directed at whoever is standing behind Dorian, but the mage doesn’t turn to look. He’s having trouble keeping his stomach from crawling up through his mouth, thank you. At least he didn’t piss himself.

“Fletcher, help the townsfolk get to the Chantry. We will have words later,” growls a man. Fereldan, from the accent. A clank of armor as someone leaves.

Then a woman’s voice — at least he thinks it’s a woman, but it is very deep — says, “Tac? What in the world are you doing here?”

Tacere smiles through the blood and ichor on his face, and it reaches his eyes for the first time Dorian has seen. “Ree-Ree! Sorry, love, but there’s no time. Dorian and I came to warn you. The rebel mages were taken over by a Tevinter group called the Venatori. They’re under… well. He’s up there.” Tacere points back the way they came, to where two shadowy figures stand on an outcropping. The army streams down the valley on either side.

“The Elder One,” he supplies in an embarrassingly unsteady voice, since Tacere is being coy with his information. “The other is Calpernia, who commands the Venatori at the Elder One’s behest.” He struggles up, letting Tacere and the Fereldan man help him, and leans on his staff. “Fine, I’m fine. Exhausted, but— it is supposed to come back, isn’t it?”

The Fereldan nods, opens his mouth to say something. But then the woman Tacere called ‘Ree-Ree’ — and she can only be the fabled Herald of Andraste, Irene Trevelyan — barks, “Cullen, get everyone out here. We have to use the trebuchets, stop as many of them as we can. Tac, you and Dorian get up to the Chantry. You can— oh, shit.”

“What? What is it, Herald?” Cullen says, even as he motions to the people gathered just inside the gates to come out and fight. They rally at his command, charging out of the village. Most of them haven’t had time to put on armor, but they will give their lives for this cause.

Irene shakes her head, looking at Tacere. “Julien,” she breathes. “He’s in the infirmary. He won’t be able to move on his own.”

“On it, love,” the rogue says, and salutes. He tugs Dorian towards the doors to Haven. “Come on, we’ve got more heroics to do.”

***

Tacere leaves Dorian in the Chantry and runs off to find Julien — whoever that is — but Dorian can’t stand the looks the people already gathered there are giving him. He feels impotent, even with his mana slowly returning and the dizziness gone. He has to help. The Venatori haven’t breached the walls, so everyone is either on the front lines outside or huddled inside the Chantry. He still looks for stragglers. Not that they’ll listen to him, but if he can save someone—

He’s near what appears to be a tavern, light still spilling out from the open doors. Everyone left in a hurry. He draws even with the building, watching the walls — the battle does not sound good out there — and stops short.

He sees the lantern first, overturned on a table. Then he sees the flames, merrily eating the alcohol-soaked surface and making their way towards the walls and floor. The wooden walls and floor. Then, and only then, does he see the woman, frantically scooping bottles into her arms from behind the bar. She hasn’t seen the fire. (He doesn’t want to think about her possibly having seen it and deciding to ‘rescue’ the inventory anyway; he has enough to weep over in regards to the intelligence of the average denizen of Thedas.)

“What are you doing?” he shouts, and she whirls around, bottles slipping from her arms to shatter at her feet. “Get out of there!”

She gasps and edges around the bar, away from him, towards the fire. He’s about to shout again when the flames make the leap, consuming a banner on the wall and spreading to the thatch roof in a matter of seconds.

“Kaffas!” Dorian launches himself towards the woman — or where the woman had been, as the tavern has filled with choking smoke — and reaches out, finding her flailing arm. He tugs her towards the door, out of the path of a falling beam, which crashes down right where she had been standing. The heat is overwhelming, the smoke clogs his lungs and renders him blind as his eyes water. He’s wanted to return to blessed warmth every day since he arrived in Ferelden, but this is not what he meant.

It is pure, dumb luck that he manages to stumble out the door with the woman in tow, as he can’t see it. He releases his death grip on her arm and collapses again in the snow, coughing up bile. He’s done his part, and could happily live the rest of his life never diving into another burning building ever again. The smite’s lingering effects don’t help.

Still coughing, but with rather less disgusting results, he unhooks his staff and uses it to haul himself up. He finds the woman behind him, watching the tavern burn with a hand on her mouth and no care for the heat radiating off the doomed building, or the sparks leaping off to fizzle in the snow. She turns around slowly. “You… what do you want?”

It takes a lot of willpower not to sneer; his father would sneer, and Dorian Pavus is not his father. It is that thought that makes him say, as gently as he can, “Get to the Chantry. Everyone is gathering there.” He half expects her to think it a trap, but something comes over her face then, some steely determination, and she nods at him before taking off up the hill at a sprint.

Dorian sighs. Well, he never did think it was going to be easy. He turns back to the hunt.

Just over the walls, a flaming rock hurtles toward the mountain pass the Venatori are undoubtedly still swarming over like so many ants, cracking against the steep slopes. A moment later the side of the mountain breaks off, starting an avalanche that will bury the main part of the horde. A cheer rises from the front lines, the sound faint to his ears but still bolstering his spirits. They could win this.

That, of course, is when the archdemon appears.

***

The Chantry man — and Dorian really must get his name at some point — stumbles towards the doors, waving in the last of the front lines. It’s just Irene, Cullen, and a few people he vaguely recognizes as being there at the gates, including four soldiers in the Inquisition uniform. Nine total of the dozens who defended Haven.

“A fucking archdemon, Cassandra,” Irene spits out, tugging at her hair. Her face is flushed from battle, her greatsword still covered in gore. A fresh cut slices across her temple, dripping blood down her cheek. She turns around mid-stride to continue talking to the stern-faced woman behind her, but stops in her tracks when she spots the Chantry man. “Chancellor Roderick, are you…?”

The Chancellor wobbles and keels over. Dorian is the closest, so he hooks an arm around him and drags the man to the side. “He bravely stood against a Venatori. For me.”

Irene blinks.

“Briefly,” Roderick gasps. “I am no… templar…”

Irene gapes.

“Herald!” Cullen turns from where he’s been holding a whispered conference with a woman in purple — a stylish outfit, Dorian thinks absently — and shakes his head with finality. “We can’t hold out much longer. That thing more than makes up for those you managed to kill with the avalanches.”

“No demands, no communication at all,” the woman says, soft Orlesian lilt ringing out in the suddenly-silent Chantry. “Whatever they want, they aren’t telling us.”

Dorian settles a panting Roderick into a chair. “It was the same with the mages. This Elder One just swept in and took them. It’s marched all this way for your Herald, too.” That was what he had gathered in Redcliffe, anyway, before he and Tacere had to flee.

Tacere. Where is he, anyway?

“I don’t care if it wants me, I’m not letting it destroy Haven,” Irene snaps.

“If I knew how to prevent that, I would not keep such information to myself,” Dorian says. Whether or not they believe him, he has to get that out. But Irene seems inclined to trust him, which is decidedly strange. “And the landslide went so well, too.”

“The landslide…” Irene repeats. Dorian enjoys watching the gears turn in her head — she is so bad at hiding it. “Cullen, there’s one left, right?”

“Yes.” Cullen sighs, looks around the Chantry, at the wounded and wondering. “We could turn the last one to the mountains above us. You saw — we’re overrun. The only choice left is whether to be spiteful in how we go down.” His voice is low, but Dorian doubts the onlookers are oblivious to the decision being made for them.

Dorian can see his point — he also saw the archdemon — but Cullen is making last stands too quickly for his liking. He’s seen this behavior before, in the cornered. “That’s unacceptable,” he says mildly, leaving Roderick’s side to confront them. “I did not ride double with that elf just for you to drop rocks on my head. You have no idea how clingy he is.”

Irene startles at the mention of Tacere, but Cullen speaks before she can. “Are you suggesting we let them kill us?”

“Suicide — dying at all — shouldn’t be the first resort! Kaffas, man, you’re thinking like a blood mage!”

Cullen doesn’t just flinch at the jab, he recoils. The triumph he feels at a particularly clever jibe is quickly overtaken by guilt at the stricken look on the other man’s face.

“There is a way.” A pained voice cuts through the tension, and Dorian turns around to find Roderick struggling to sit up in the chair he’s slumped over in. He goes to help automatically, easing the Chancellor upright. “The summer path, behind the Chantry. I made the pilgrimage… she… Andraste must have shown me just for this moment. So I could tell… you. Herald…” With a sudden burst of energy, he stands up, sways on the spot, and doubles over. Blood leaks from his lips. He wraps the Chancellor’s arm around his shoulders and whispers, “Hold on, dear man. You need to show us the path, remember?”

Roderick nods.

“Go,” Irene orders. “Everyone, go.”

Cullen pales. “But Herald, how will you—”

She half-grins, half-snarls. While not many things frighten Dorian anymore, this does. This woman is a force to be reckoned with. “Don’t worry. I’ll make him work for it.”

Then she is gone, bursting out the doors with a roar. Alone. A few of the gathered people step forward as if to follow, but the woman in purple waves them down. Roderick shuffles towards the back of the Chantry, Dorian supporting him but letting him lead. Cullen remains, staring at the doors, and as they pass Dorian hears him whisper, as if in prayer, “Let that thing hear you, Irene.”

***

It has been hours since Solas sent up the signal flare as they left the treeline and looked back at Haven. Hours since the trebuchet launched and the village was buried with the Herald in it. Hours of trudging through the wind-whipped snow in no discernible direction, though the sun has risen on a new day.

Hours since Dorian realized that Tacere had been right behind him for some time, face flushed not from the wind but from excitement. He had one hand on the side of a bronto, one of three some intrepid person managed to get out of Haven, and strapped into the beast’s saddle — along with supplies — was a man swaddled in so many blankets he was probably suffocating at that very moment. “Dori, love, meet Jule,” Tacere had said with a laugh, patting the fellow’s thigh. He was unconscious, and Dorian wondered how Tac had managed to get him up there. “He’s Irene’s brother.”

“Brother from another mother. He was always kind to her, even when he joined the templars and she didn’t. Funny that he would live longer.”

“Hush, Cole darling.”

Hmm. Dorian remembers this Cole’s words but not their voice. He can still recall Tacere’s. Strange. The more he thinks about it the worse his head feels, and Dorian quickly decides it’s not important. They’ve made camp now: a haphazard collection of tents and a central firepit. The storm has stopped, for now. Cullen and the purple woman — Leliana — have set up guard rotations and scouting operations for the area, but they, like everyone else, are going through the motions.

The Herald is dead.

Worse, the Elder One is alive. Dorian saw it for himself: the archdemon flying away as the avalanche swept into Haven. Everyone saw.

He sits and watches Roderick cling to life in the makeshift infirmary. The Chancellor is stubborn as well as brave. The Inquisition’s days are numbered, too, but they seem content to lie down and let death come early. Roderick is only lucid a fraction of the time, but when he is, he whispers his faith into the air, and it reaches Dorian’s ears. It’s not the Chant, though that comes too. It is when the dying man says that he must stay alive to witness the Herald’s return, that he has to look away.

A whistle sounds from back the way they came. Dorian looks up in time to see a streak of blue light shoot up into the sky and burst, lightning shooting out in all directions. It dissipates before it gets anywhere, but the thunderous bang echoes through the mountains.

Instantly the camp is on alert. Dorian leaps up too, dashing for the firepit. The advisors are there, barking orders, and he skids to a stop in front of Leliana. She seems the most sympathetic. “I know that magic! It’s Tevinter in origin, but used to signal rescues.”

“Rescues?” Leliana repeats, sharp eyes flicking towards where the flare disappeared.

“Yes. Purely cosmetic, designed to draw attention without setting anything on fire.”

“It’s Irene,” Tacere says, appearing behind him. “And a friend.” The rogue is grinning, hands tucked into his armor. “We should probably go find ‘em. Takes a lot to get him to admit he needs help.”

“How do you—” Cullen starts, but Tacere is already zipping off with a giggle. Cullen and Cassandra exchange looks; Cassandra makes a disgusted noise and runs after Tacere. A hopeful smile — that he’s probably not even aware he’s making — spreads across Cullen’s face, and then he is following too. Dorian throws up his hands and rounds out the search party; someone has to keep an eye on these idiots.

***

No more flares come, but after a few minutes dashing through the snow, Dorian spies a faint green light ahead. It can’t be a rift, there weren’t any on the way up. Cullen and Cassandra slow down when they see it, but Tacere speeds up, laughing with abandon. They lose sight of him around a sharp bend in the slot-like mountain pass.

Dorian draws level with the Commander and the Seeker, and unhooks his staff. Anything that makes Tac happy is probably a day-ruiner at the least.

They turn the corner and nearly run straight into the most powerful ward unaided by blood magic that Dorian has ever seen, a bubble that looks more like green-tinted glass than a magical barrier.

And surrounding the ward is a pack of over a dozen wolves. Thin and mangy, drooling from their desperation, they circle their prey.

Cullen and Cassandra have their swords drawn in a blink, while Dorian throws a hasty barrier over them. Tacere — where is that blasted rogue? — Tacere has disappeared, but Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still around somewhere. A figure is barely visible in the center of the ward, and Dorian only sees him when he shifts slightly and calls out, voice muffled, “Who’s there?”

Cassandra opens her mouth to answer, but then the first wolf spots them and lets out a growl. The others turn as one, eyes glinting in the pale light of the ward.

Dorian lobs a fireball straight at the closest wolf. It leaps back, but not fast enough to avoid the fire catching on its legs, and the rest of the pack spreads out as it howls in agony. They don’t run, however, and he curses. Normally, any amount of fire is enough to scare wolves away, even when they have the advantage of numbers. Something is wrong.

The pack splits, circling, and Cullen and Cassandra move to put Dorian between them. For a few seconds all is still, then something ripples through the pack. A signal.

A whip-thin wolf leaps straight for Dorian, and he steps back only to feel another behind him, snapping at his robes. He turns to keep his back to Cullen’s, lightning arcing from his hands to either side. Smoke from burning fur chokes the air.

Cullen bellows a war cry, bashing one in the snout with his shield. Cassandra’s sword flashes, face set in a snarl of her own. Wolves crowd their legs, biting anything they can. Dorian kicks one latched onto Cullen’s forearm, and it drops with a yelp, only to be caught by the Commander’s sword. Cullen nods at him and spares a glance at his dented bracer before launching himself back into the fray.

“Mon chéri!” Tac trills, and Dorian glances up. One wolf has hung back, lingering by the ward. The leader. This one is huge, larger than the others by far, and even across the battlefield Doian can see that its eyes are no normal color, but red as fresh blood. A crimson sheen shimmers over its fur.

It’s possessed.

And then it’s not, as Tac reappears from stealth above it, mid-leap, and drives his dagger into the back of its skull.

It crumples, and as the red dims in its eyes the remaining wolves each shudder and cry out, coming back to their senses. They flee down the mountain, toward Haven’s smoking ruins, like the wrath of the Maker is upon them.

“Was that thing… possessed by a demon?” Cassandra asks. “How?”

The mystery man inside the ward, who Dorian had quite forgotten about, answers. “Lots of weird things have been happening of late, haven’t you noticed?” He pauses. “Now, who are you?” Dorian squints through the barrier, but can’t make out anything beyond a fuzzy outline of someone who is either very short or kneeling.

Cassandra scowls and opens her mouth to reply.

“Ah, mon trésor! I’ve brought help!” Tacere calls, tugging his dagger out of the alpha wolf’s head.

“Tac?” the man asks, voice a mix of revolted and unsurprised. “Of course it is.” The ward contracts, the mana sustaining it petering out, then pops as the energy cuts off entirely. The man — a thin, sharp-boned, and decidedly unfashionable Tevinter mage in brown traveling leathers, carrying a staff that is little more than an oversized stick — is kneeling over Irene, who lies still as death on the snow. His ink-dark hair is long, held in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Icy blue eyes flick towards them, narrowing suspiciously.

Dorian feels he should know him, but he is only barely familiar.

“My darling, my love! These are members of the esteemed Inquisition,” Tacere trills after a beat, clapping his hands and skipping over. The mage rolls his eyes but shifts back, letting Cassandra approach — though she does so carefully, watching his hands — and bend to examine the fallen Herald.

Dorian and Cullen drift closer as well, and that is when the mage looks up and sees the Commander. He tenses, nostrils flaring. At that moment, Dorian is very glad looks can’t kill, or Cullen would be dead on the spot. And that would be a waste. Cullen stops short, brows drawing down when he notices the open hostility on the part of the as-yet-unnamed mage.

“Do you… know each other?” Dorian says at last, when the staring contest — confused memory-searching by one party, simmering rage by the other — has dragged on far too long.

“I don’t—” Cullen starts.

“Of course you don’t,” the mage scoffs. He turns to Cassandra, who is gathering Irene in her arms. “Tac and I are old… acquaintances. Extended family.” Cullen starts forward to help Cassandra, but the mage leaps to his feet and points at him. He stops. “You,” the mage snarls, “are Knight-Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford of the Gallows, the templar who stood by while Meredith stole the souls of innocent mages and looked the other way while Hawke gave us all a bad name. Now do you remember?”

Cullen opens his mouth and closes it again several times, and a strange wave of outrage washes over Dorian. For his fellow Tevinter mage, yes, but mostly for Cullen — and Dorian has no idea why he feels the need to protect the Commander of the Inquisition like a kicked puppy. “Now now,” he interjects, “we can all gleefully unearth each others’ sordid pasts later. Our dear Herald doesn’t look well.”

That would be an understatement. As Cassandra carries Irene past them, intent on the camp, Dorian realizes the situation is a great deal worse than he thought. Irene’s face is bloodless, her nose has a blue tinge, and there’s a scrape on her right cheek ringed with frost. Purple bruises in the shape of unnaturally long fingers decorate her left wrist, where the mark flickers dully. Something sundered her chestplate, too, and the hole’s edges are blackened, burnt by magefire. But she is alive, or Cassandra would not be so determined. She is alive.

Cullen looks at her and discards whatever he had decided to say, charging ahead toward the camp without a word. Cassandra follows, a great deal slower from her burden, but she still leaves the rest of them in the dust. Or rather, snow.

Some of the tension dissipates. Some.

Dorian glances back just as his fellow mage Fade-steps to his side. The spell is notoriously difficult to master, but his technique is precise, controlled. It jogs his memory, but he has to be sure.

“Ah, hello,” he says, keeping his tone light. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

[yourdreamscenarios]

When you hate someone they’re close to

∙ Request ♡ ∙ Word count: 4,603 ∙ RM, Jimin, V, Jungkook ♡ 

∙ Jin

“I’m coming!” You roared, drawing your robe closer around you and rushing down the stairs. It was three a’clock in the morning, it was practically still the middle of the night, normal people were supposed to be in bed right now. You’d been one of those people, that was until a crazy person had decided to come murdering your doorbell and bang on the front door. Who the hell was it? You were already annoyed because someone had the nerve to wake you up like this in the middle of the night. If you’d had to find out that whoever this was didn’t have a good reason to be here you were going to knock them out. On bare feet you marched through the living room, into the hallway and all the way toward the front door. It wasn’t cold in the house, but the temperature of the air compared to the warmth you’d felt underneath the comforter in your bed was such a huge difference that it caused you to shiver. You weren’t supposed to be here. 

You were supposed to be having sweet dreams with your boyfriend by your side. You wondered if he had even heard the sound of the doorbell going off? He hadn’t moved or hadn’t given a single sign that he was planning on making his way downstairs with you. You weren’t even sure if it was a very smart move to open the door for someone in the middle of the night? What if it was someone who wanted to rob you but who wanted to get in without making things hard for himself? The doorbell resounded against the walls another time and you groaned in frustration as you stopped in front of it. Peering through the peep hole you noticed a girl standing standing on the other side. But even with the porch lights on it was too dark to recognize her. You frowned as you reached fro the locks and began to open them. She didn’t look like one of your fiends, yet you were sure you had seen her before.  

As soon as you pulled the door open a freezing breeze traveled past your bare legs, causing your muscles to tense. “What the hell…” You started, but were unable to finish your sentence as the strange girl in front of you lifted her head and her face stared right back at yours. How convenient. Wonderful. The mocking thoughts rang inside of your mind as she looked at you, her gaze glassy, as if she hadn’t really seen you yet. She blinked her eyes a few times as you shot her an annoyed look. This definitely wasn’t worth for you to sacrifice your sleep. “Where’s Seokjin?” Her words were slurred as she extended a hand in hope to lean it against the wall to support herself. Instead she missed, and she almost tumbled right onto the floor of your hallway. Reaching forward you steadied her, grabbing her by the elbow. Though as soon as you knew she was secure on her own feet again you let her go, as if touching her burned you. That was what it felt like, to be quite honest. 

You glared at her, wondering where she got the nerve to come looking for your boyfriend in the middle of the night. She was staring past you, probably looking for him. The whelm of alcohol floated towards you, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. Of course she was drunk. She was already unbearable to deal with when she was sober, you didn’t even want to know what she was like in this state. You were just about to tell her that Seokjin was in bed, just like every other normal human being in this country and she had to get her ass off your porch, when all of a sudden you heard a voice coming from behind you. “Yuri?” Your boyfriend’s soft and disbelieving voice caused you to squeeze your eyes in surrender. Couldn’t he stay in bed for just a while longer? At least until you could have slammed the door close in her face and you could have pretended as if nothing had happened. 

Now, you had to watch how she stumbled inside of your house, and threw her unsteady body on top of her ex boyfriend. Why couldn’t she just leave the two of you alone? He had been clear to her so many times before, but for one reason or another she just couldn’t let it go, she couldn’t let him go. Even though you had heard the story and she was obviously the one who had broken up with her. “Seokjin! Please, I miss you!” She sounded like a wailing child and for a second you were sure she was about to get down on her knees and start begging him to take her back. She didn’t even seem to notice that you were still standing here. “Are you drunk?” Seokjin asked astonished, his eyes slipped towards you for a moment before they slipped back to her. His hands rested on her upper arms to keep her from dropped herself on the floor and you heaved a deep sigh as you shut the door behind yourself. Something told you that he wasn’t planning on sending her away. No matter what had happened between the two of you, he wasn’t able to bring up the hate which you felt towards her. “I just…I just need you! You don’t know how hard it is!” She mumbled again, her head lulling to one side. 

She was making a complete fool of herself and she didn’t even seem to realize it. That was probably the nice part of being drunk, not knowing that you were embarrassing yourself. She could only hope she also wouldn’t be able to remember this tomorrow morning. It was obvious that Seokjin was unsure of what to do, knowing that if he kept her here he would piss you off, but also knowing he couldn’t kick her out while she was in this state. So you decided to help him, your sleep long forgotten. “Take her to the couch, I’ll get her some water.” You grumbled and you didn’t look at either of them as you walked past them. Her desperation was sickening. It wasn’t like you were scared to loose him, she would never be able to get him back again, not after what she had done. But you hated that she continued to show up inside of your lives and tried to break the two of you apart. It had to end, because you weren’t planning to keep on taking this. 

Arriving inside of the kitchen you had the feeling as if this was the first time you were able to breath again since you had gotten out of bed. There was a big chance she’d be sleeping on your couch tonight, since she wasn’t capable of getting home. You were in no mood to deal with her while she was hangover in the morning. You hauled open one of the kitchen cabinets to find a set of glasses. Grabbing one you walked towards the fridge and took a bottle of ice cold water, hoping it might help her clear her mind. You were just filling up the glass when you felt someone appear in the kitchen behind you, but you didn’t turn around to look who it was. “She’s in the living room. I can’t believe she showed up here.” Seokjin muttered quietly, obviously trying to make sure she wouldn’t hear him. It was a miracle she hadn’t followed him in here already. Perhaps she had already passed out. You remained silent as you spilled some of the water on the counter, causing you to grind your teeth in frustration. If this was the way the day was about to stay then it surely wasn’t going to be a good one. 

You could feel him nearing and before you knew it you could feel his chest pressed up against you, his hands placed on your shoulders reassuringly. “Don’t be mad.” He whispered softly, squeezing your muscles softly. Throwing aside the piece of cloth you had used to wipe up the mess you had created you sighed deeply before turning around to face him. “Listen, I absolutely hate her. But I’m trying to work something out for you.” You growled, sending him a glare, even though you knew none of this was his fault and he hadn’t wished for any of this himself. Still, it was his ex girlfriend, which meant it was his responsibility. Yet, he didn’t seem to be affected by your angry look, since the corners of his lips turned up into a smile. “I know, and I really appreciate it. How about we call a cab and we send her home?” He suggested, and you could feel a weight falling from your shoulders. He chuckled slightly as he lowered his face towards your and pressed a kiss on your lips. 

∙ Suga

“I mean, I don’t understand why he started dating you in the first place. It’s obvious he is way out of her league! He could get so much better than that… I can’t even think of a suited word to describe her really. I mean, have you looked at her, like really looked at her? She’s up to something, I can tell! She only wants him for his money and his fame. Just wait for it, she’ll break his heart and then we’ll be the ones who have to put the pieces back together.” She went on and on, and to be honest you really didn’t want to hear this. But somehow you were frozen, your feet glued against the tiles. From the second you had walked into the door earlier tonight you had noticed that something was off. Yoongi’s mother had been smiling in your face all night, but something about it had been so fake. It was the same as always, she was always nice in your face, but behind your back she’d go around telling people the nastiest things about you and she would tell everyone how much she hated you. Well, the feeling was mutual. 

Ever since you’d first met her she had been trying to break you and your boyfriend apart. She was convinced that you weren’t right for her son, and no matter how much you tried to get into her favor, it just didn’t work. You had told Yoongi about this many times before, but he told you that it was just a phase, that it would pass. He said she just had to get used to the idea of her son being in love and having a new woman in his life. Well, she should have gotten used to it after two years, and she still hadn’t. You were done flattering her and trying to solve this. You weren’t planning on doing an effort for someone who would never accept it. To her you would never be good enough. One of the reasons was probably that you didn’t owe enough money, that you didn’t come from a rich family. In her eyes the fact that you made her son happy wasn’t enough for you to deserve him.

You flinched when a hand landed on top of your shoulder, squeezing it a little. You hadn’t meant to get caught, but it wasn’t really like you were trying to be very subtle. You were standing in the middle of the doorway of the kitchen, blocking it for everyone who was trying to get in or out. It was a miracle she hadn’t noticed you standing here herself, but she was too busy gossiping about you against her husband to take notice of you. To her you were just a small problem she had to get rid of, nothing more than that. But after two years, she had found out that you weren’t that easy to eliminate. “You shouldn’t be listening to this.” Yoongi’s voice whispered inside of your ear and you sniffed at it. Why shouldn’t you? They were talking about you, while they were very much aware there was a chance you would hear. Actually, you were quite sure she had meant for you to catch up on this conversation. 

It was probably another way for her to hope that this would get too much for you and you would leave anyway. You stared holes in her back from where you were standing and for the first time since you had been introduced to her you felt like standing up for yourself. You couldn’t allow someone to speak like this about you. She didn’t even take the chance to get to know you, so how could she possibly think she knew what your intentions were with her son? As if he could feel the tension in the air rising Yoongi reached for your hand and he quickly started tugging you away from the kitchen. The only reason he succeeded in doing so was because you let him. You weren’t up for another fight. He halted when the two of you got into the living room, where he was sure the two of you could have a private conversation without being eavesdropped. 

The table in the middle of the room was still set to have a relaxing family dinner. But to you, a dinner with his family could never be of such sorts. To be honest you had no desire to stay here. You just wanted to go home, she could stuff herself with her distasteful turkey. You didn’t know what you had done to deserve all of this. “I’m so sorry, I really hoped she would’ve come around this time.” He muttered, stepped towards you and placed both of his hands on your upper arms, trying to soothe you. The both of you knew that nothing was going to change her opinion of you. He had tried to talk to her so many times before, had asked her to give you a break and to leave you alone, but she simply wouldn’t listen. You had already given up your hopes of thinking that something might change. The only reason why you were still putting up with them was because you loved Yoongi so much. If it weren’t for him you would have walked out of this a long time ago. “You have every right to be angry.” He assured you and you sighed deeply before you lowered yourself on the couch. 

You had passed the feeling of anger a very long time ago. Anger wasn’t the right word to describe the way you felt towards her. You had never directly told him, because no matter what happened between you and her, she was still his mother and you had to respect that. But you couldn’t keep on taking this. You weren’t someone who was going to ask him to choose between his girlfriend and his mother, but it wasn’t going to be very easy to maintain it. You didn’t want to think of her trying to ruin your wedding one day, or when you’d finally get children and she would try to turn them against you. “Listen, I absolutely hate her. But I’m trying to work something out for you. She’s your mother, after all.” You muttered, rubbing your hands across your face in the hope it would help you release some tension. You had never taken those words inside of your mouth before when he was around. You had told your friends about it, and they all told you that you were right. But telling your boyfriend that you hated his mother, it seemed kind of heartless. 

But you weren’t heartless, you had just run out of patience and you were so done with this game. It was like there was a secret war going on between the two of you, but no one else was allowed to notice. But you were sick of hiding it. Yoongi nodded, his look harsh as he lowered himself on the sofa beside you. You knew he wasn’t going to get angry with you or he wasn’t going to lash out on you. After all he had been on the front line all along and he knew everything his mother had done to you, everything she had put you through. One of the reasons why he loved you was because you didn’t allow anyone else to mess with you, this was one of those moments. “I get it, I really do. But what do you expect from me?” He asked, turning his body towards you and sending you a questioning look. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if this was where you had reached to point of making him choose. You detested the fact that he only dared to think that you would ever do such thing. You would never sink that low. “Nothing Yoongi! She’s your mother for God’s sake! I guess loving someone always comes with a prize.” 

“it seems like the prize I have to pay is trying to get along with a mother in law who absolutely hates me. Though as long as I don’t have to see her every day, I guess that’s a prize I’m willing to pay.” You said, and you could see the way he rolled his eyes at you because of your dramatic statement before he smiled at you. He curled his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side for a very uncomfortable hug. But it was still nice, it was what you needed. “Because you can’t live without me.” He joked softly and you snorted. Yet, you didn’t say anything, because perhaps it was slightly true. Pecking your temple once more he let go of you and stood up from the spot on the couch. “How do you feel about some pizza?” He asked and you frowned at him in confusion. You couldn’t order take out, his mother would kill the both of you. But then he extended his hand to you and nodded his head towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.” 

∙ J Hope 

Sitting on the couch you watched the two of them laugh because of a joke you couldn’t quite understand. You tugged your lips up into something that looked like a smile. To be honest you didn’t really want to be here. You didn’t mind them spending time with each there by themselves, it wasn’t like you were jealous of her, no at all. But him trying to bring the two of you together and trying to blend you into the friendship they owned probably wasn’t a very good idea. You just hadn’t been able to think of the right way to tell him yet because you didn’t want to hurt his feeling. He liked her and he loved you and of course he wanted the two girls who were important in his life to get along. But not every dream could become reality. They were best friends and he had known her long before you had come into the picture. They had been through things together you had no clue of, they had made stories together you had never read. Still, he tried so hard to make it seem as if you had been there that sometimes it was quite painful. 

You wished he would just stop trying so hard, because this wasn’t going very well. When they were done laughing he patted his knees in joy, before eying the two of you in turn. “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” He said and you already guarded yourself, knowing that nothing good was about to happen when he left the two of you by yourselves. He probably expected the two of you to have some great conversations together which friends had, two girls who cared about the same person. But nothing was less true. She didn’t like you one bit, and you could only say you felt the same way. As soon as he got up from the couch and walked out of the room the sphere turned icy and you had the desire to turn up the heating in the hope to fight it. You tried your hardest to avoid her gaze, but after a few seconds of ignoring the way she was glaring at you, you gave up. 

Sighing deeply you returned her stare, making sure your eyebrows were meeting each other in the middle of your face in dislike. She always looked at you as if you were the dirt underneath her shoe, as if you weren’t worthy her company. She always did it when Hoseok wasn’t near, so he surely couldn’t overhear what she said to you. The two of you both knew it would break his heart to figure out what things were really like between the two of you. “Can’t you just go hang out with your own friends? Why do you always have to be around when Hobi and I meet up? It’s so freaking annoying.” She pointed out and you sniffed, throwing your hair back over your shoulder. As if she had the right to say such thing. She wasn’t the one who felt left out of conversations whenever the two of them were together, she wasn’t the one who was always forced to act as if nothing was wrong as soon as she left and Hoseok asked why you were being so quiet. She could just walk out and pretend as if nothing happened. 

Why couldn’t she put in some effort as well? It wasn’t like she had to see you every single day. “I don’t understand why he likes you anyway.” She suddenly muttered and your eyes almost bulged out of your skull because of it. She was always mean, but she had never said something like this before. It seemed like her true colors were finally starting to show. Whenever Hoseok wasn’t around she would show them to you a little more and it seemed like you were finally about to find out what this had been about all this time. “What the hell if you problem?” You asked, your voice a little sharper and louder than you had meant for it to be. By now you were no longer worrying about your boyfriend overhearing the two of you. Perhaps it was time for him to find out the truth. She let out a sarcastic laugh, one that made all your bones rattle. 

“I thought that would be obvious by now, but it seems like you’re a little clueless, aren’t you?” She was speaking to you as if you were a little child who needed to be mocked because of doing something bad. You didn’t like the tone she was using against you one bit. Glaring at her you squeezed your fingers into two tight fists, hoping it would stop you from shouting at her. Because you really wanted to do that right now, you wanted to yell at her to stop acting like an idiot. “Hoseok is my friend! And you stole him from me!” She spat at you and you let out a outraged chuckle. This had to be a joke. You hadn’t stolen anyone from anyone. You had Hoseok had fallen in love, back then you hadn’t even known that he had a best friend. Yet, you had never made a problem of it, not even when he had told you that his best friend was a girl. You trusted him and you loved him, you wanted him to be happy. If she would care for her best friend half as much as you did she would understand and she would try to get along with you. You were his girlfriend and you weren’t planning on leaving his side any time soon. “Hoseok is still your friend! I haven’t done anything.” You said, getting up from the couch and planning to make your way towards the kitchen. 

Perhaps it was better if you gave her some room to breathe. She obviously needed to cool down. But as you walked forward to get past her, she surprised you by placing her hands against your shoulders and giving you a harsh push. You squealed as you stumbled backwards, hitting the tiles with a loud thud. You squirmed when your butt hit the ground, knowing that the impact of the blow would leave a bruise. She was towering over you, pointing an accusing finger at you and for the first time since you had met her you actually felt terrified. “What are you doing?!” Hoseok’s voice rang around the room and you could watch her cringe. She obviously hadn’t expected him to walk in and see her like this. You stared up at her with big eyes as she turned yourself towards him, sending him an innocent look. “Hobi, I swear this isn’t what it looks like.” She started, but by the way he looked at her you could already tell that her excuses were no longer reaching him. She had messed up badly this time. 

“I already told you that you have to stop doing this Yoona! She is my girlfriend, why can’t you understand that?” He breezed and you were shocked to find out that it seemed like the two of them had spoken about this before. So it wasn’t a secret to him that she totally disliked you. Your head seemed to be spinning because of everything you had to take in. She stuttered something you couldn’t quite understand, but it seemed as if he was done listening to her. He didn’t get angry very often and especially not at either one of you, but it seemed as if she had pushed too far this time. His finger was pointing into the direction of the door as he shot her an angry look. “Get out.” He growled and she tried to fight him for a little moment, before she sniffed and she turned on her heels and made her way out. She didn’t even look at you, didn’t apologize for working you towards the ground. To be honest you weren’t sure how to feel. Hoseok quickly made his way towards you, crouching down beside you. 

“Are you okay? Gosh I can’t believe she did this.” He muttered as he extended his hand to you as to check on the damage, but you slapped it away. His eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t reach out to you again as you crawled up into a seated position. Your muscles were yelling at you and you could tell that a few spots were going to be extremely sore tomorrow. “I can’t believe you already knew the way she felt about me and you never asked me about it!” You yelled at him. You never shouted at him, so to say that you were both astonished was probably an understatement. He blinked his eyes at you a few times before he spoke up. “I did! but you always told me that you were fine and I was seeing ghosts.” He remarked and you slumped your shoulders at that. He was right, you had been so busy to keep him from getting hurt that you hadn’t realized what had been going on all this time. You sighed as you combed your fingers through your hair. “Listen, I absolutely hate her. But I’m trying to work something out for you…” You mumbled and he smiled softly at you before wrapped his arms around you. “I know…”

∙ BTS Masterlist ♡ ∙ Masterlist ♡

[uncharnel]

♛ (hey uhhhhh can I get 1 large order of oral with Scarlet and a side of praise?)

A Little Lust on Holy Days | | @whispereddreams

♛ : Wild card!

  “No?” There was no true rancor behind the word, only the slightest hint of vexed exasperation.

  Humming softly, Scarlet vacated her spot between Blackmore's legs to hover over him. Freed from her habitual hairstyle, a thick lock of black hair fell over one eye as she cocked her head to take in her husband's employee. And her friend. Her close friend, if the fact that they were both naked on the red satin sheets of her bed was anything to go by.

  Since they'd gotten this far, it was mystery why Blackmore felt the need to shield his drenched folds from her affection or why he looked so shocked. That she was married and he not quite what he seemed on the surface had been established weeks ago and promptly ignored as soon as her fingers had lightly stroked over the delicate little nub that crowned his pretty little flower. By the time they had sunk into the slick heat, it had been all but forgotten.

  “You don't want me to kiss you there?” she asked, following up her playful pouting with a soft kiss to Blackmore's forehead. “Layne, how could you? I really wanted to and you're being so mean! I don't know if I'll ever recover from the disappointment!”

  Dramatically, she let herself tumble to the sheets only to spring up again in alarm. What she had expected was a smile, even a small and faint one at her jesting theatrics. She received the exact opposite, the first tears threatening to spill over Blackmore's pale lashes, his shame to strong to manage even a whispered apology.

  “Oh, honey, no.” Cupping the assassin's face in both hands, she pressed in against the crook of her neck, stroking the back of his head in long, soothing strokes. Muffled and small though the assassin's voice was, she could barely make out a single word. “Dirty? Is that was this is about? I don't think something as lovely as your cunny could be dirty at all. Here.”

  Deliberately, her fingers closed around the assassin's wrist and brought his hand up to her face. Her tongue snaked out to envelop a finger. A testing lick before she engulfed the digit with her mouth, lashing it with her tongue to lap up any residue before slowly letting it slip out. Dreadfully suggestive, she knew, a terrible trick to play on someone as innocent as Blackmore. But neither Hell nor high water could deter her or the appreciative purr with which she ravaged the next.

  “Just as I thought, sweeter than honey,” she cooed in the assassin's ear. There was little need to act, Blackmore truly did have an exquisite flavor, tangy and rich, stoking her hunger. “I was joking just now but I really do want to kiss you there. Please? I'd be ever so happy.”

  A tiny nod was all the confirmation she needed. With gentle hands, she placed the assassin on his back to take her rightful place between his thighs. “You're an absolute peach, do you know that? And so is this…”

  Red-nailed fingertips sculled lightly over Blackmore's heated folds, connecting them with gossamer strings that broke when she braced herself and let her head dip. Her kiss to the cute little bud that brought the assassin such pleasure was light as a whisper. The next firmer, a flick of the stiff tip of her tongue rewarding her with a stifled moan. “Good boy. Doesn't that feel good? Isn't it much nicer when you trust me?”

  Reservations out the window, the flat length of Scarlet's tongue parted the soft lips under it, the flow of flavorsome juices and unrestrained moans hers to enjoy. So cute! Blackmore was so cute! She might almost get jealous if the marvelous taste of him didn't send delighted shivers down her spine. “You're so delicious, Layne. I don't know if I'll be able to give you up now that I've tasted you. You won't hate me for that, will you? Anyone would want to keep something so beautiful to themselves.”

  Every pass ended with a teasing circle over the engorged pearl peeping out from under its hood, faster and faster and faster. The heat in Scarlet's own body built in feverish jolts until she couldn't stand it. Head buried in between Blackmore's legs, one hand found her own womanhood, stroking and rubbing in perfect tandem with her laps. Her moan reverberated through her lips, provoking a louder one from the assassin, his thighs quaking uncontrollably as he hurtled towards oblivion.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  Chloe and Lucifer are survivors in a post apocalyptic world trying to make it through life step by step. (The cause is not biblical, but still falls in the canonical universe of the show.)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter and the little goodies within it! Comments are greatly loved and appreciated!

                                              Chapter Four

When Chloe awoke the next morning, for a few precious moments, the detective had completely forgotten everything that had happened. Cheek pressed against Lucifer's chest, the fabric of his shirt soothing against her skin, she had thought that perhaps she'd fallen asleep accidentally in his penthouse. It wouldn't be the first time. But the smile that had crossed her features soon fell away when reality hit her. No Lux. No studio. Just an endless forest.

"Lucifer," she mumbled, voice still thick with exhaustion. "Wake up."

She pulled away from his chest, leaving a damp mark from where her face had gathered sweat. The devil groaned, mindlessly swatting at gnats as her blinked back sleep. Turning her attention to her surroundings, Chloe noted that both Charlie, Ruth, and Kate had already woken up. When Charlie began to poke Nate, who somehow had managed to remain asleep, with a stick, Ruth threw him a dark look before trying her own hand at getting him to regain consciousness.

"It's bloody hotter than Hell out here," Lucifer spoke, drawing his partner's attention back to him. "And I should know, I ran the place for eons."

"Maybe if you forwent the suit…" Chloe suggested with a small smile.

"Never!" Lucifer said appalled. "I'd rather be burned to cinders!"

Breakfast consisted of chocolate chip granola bars and water-what little they had left. Surprisingly, Lucifer did not utter a peep of complaint as he consumed his portion of the meal, much to Chloe's astonishment. It was only when Kate withdrew the map from the safety of her pack that a real conversation began to stir amongst the survivors.

"It's been over twenty four hours now," Ruth began. "Maybe the cell phone towers are working. This isn't the 50's. By now the government has to have perfected nuclear safety plans. Isn't there a chance that we could find somewhere with some sort of communication and figure things out?"

"Just because plans are set in place doesn't mean that we are prepared for the unexpected," Kate answered. "We always fear the worse, but fearing isn't exactly the same as knowing. If the United States really, truly expected that we'd be nuked, none of us would be standing here in confusion and terror now."

"Or they did know and just didn't give a shit about warning us," Nate countered. "Fuck authority!"

"Hey!" Lucifer snarled. "Shall I jog your memory that you are in the presence of two LAPD detectives?!"

"As I said," the younger man glared, a mocking smile crossing his features. "Fuck. Authority."

Chloe reached and grabbed Lucifer by the arm before the man had a chance to step forward. When he turned, she looked at him hard, trying to convey an 'it's not worth it' expression. There was a pause before the devil huffed, shoulders slumping in defeat. After being thrown into a car, Chloe was still uncertain as to why Nate continued to push her partner's buttons. While she desired nothing more than to sucker punch the guy herself, now wasn't the time to start another conflict.

"We're all doomed anyway, right?" Nate continued, his smile far from humorous. "From the radiation? I'm surprised we aren't yet fluorescent green."

Everyone looked at one another, seeming to really take in the young man's point. Had they been infected-or rather absorbed whatever had been in the bombs? None of them had displayed any symptoms of radiation poisoning. In fact, besides being hungry, tired, and dirty, they looked relatively the same from the prior day. That had to count for something.

"We should keep moving," Charlie said, breaking the silence. "If we're fine, we aren't going to stay that way if we don't go on. " He patted Ruth's shoulder gently, trying to reassure her. "C'mon, you've always said I need to get out and walk more."

Ruth gave her husband a small smile, taking a hold of his hand when he offered it. As they began to walk, Chloe couldn't help but look at the two and think of her relationship with Dan. How they had rushed into things. If it hadn't been for Trixie, maybe they'd have split up a lot sooner. But watching the older couple confirmed one thing for sure, even in an alternate universe, she and Dan could've never worked. Not like that.

"Detective?"

Chloe found herself tugged back into reality by the concerned tone of her partner. She blinked, turning her head to see that Lucifer was gazing at her worriedly. Sometimes she didn't realize how easily she could blank out.

"Are you quite alright?" There was a hint of hesitation as he spoke. "You seem...very pensive."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "My mind's just wandering." When he didn't look convinced, she forced what she hoped resembled a reassuring smile. "I should really pay attention more before I trip over something and fall."

"That might be a wise decision," he smiled, seeming to ease at her joke. "It's hot enough without having to give you a piggyback ride for a twisted ankle."

"Oh, so that's on the table then?" She couldn't help but grin.

"Not exactly the definition of 'riding bareback' I'd prefer," he smirked. "But you take what you can get."

The detective rolled her eyes, lightly shoving him in a playful manner. When he gave her a wink, she hoped the dirt smudged across her face hid her blushing. As they continued to walk, Charlie and Ruth still hand in hand, Chloe's thoughts of her life with Dan began to diminish. Now when she looked on, she thought of someone else. And though Chloe tried to push it from her mind, she couldn't help but think of Lucifer. It was an idea so silly that it truly felt right.

Chloe was six when her Great Uncle Matthew had a heart attack right in the living room during her sixth birthday party. At the time, she didn't realize how severe the situation was. As he lay on the floor, clutching his chest while struggling for air, she could only look on in confusion before her mother rushed her into another room.

Chloe Decker had never had a heart attack. But the feeling that hit her when she watched Lucifer tumble off the cliff must've felt close.

"No," the word sounded hoarse as her lungs began to once again suck in air. "No, no, no...No! Lucifer!"

She got down on her hands and knees, scrambling over to look down the steep slope. Ignoring the pain caused by the small, sharp rocks cutting into both palms, her eyes scanned the ground below in desperation. It was hard to see through the brambles that sat scattered across the landscape. Then suddenly, way below, sprawled out in a spread eagle fashion, she could just make out a body. Lucifer. And he wasn't moving.

"Lucifer!"

Chloe was already sliding down before she realized it, heels dug into the earth to keep from losing control. Every second that went by seemed like an eternity. If she hadn't been so focused, she might've feared that her heart would give out from how heavy it was pounding against her chest. When she got to the bottom, her legs nearly gave way under her as she shakily lunged to the still form of her partner.

"Oh god," her voice shook as she knelt over him. "No, no. Please. No!"

If it hadn't been for the deep cut above his eyebrow and the mud smeared across his now torn clothes, he might've given off the impression of being asleep. But he wasn't. Chloe's hands shook as reached forward, touching his face gingerly. No reaction. Not even a hint. A lump was already forming in her throat as she went to rest her ear of his heart. He had to be breathing. He had to be okay.

"Lucifer," her voice was thick with emotion. "Don't do this...Don't…"

Tears streamed down Chloe's cheeks as she rested her ear against his chest. It didn't help that her heart was pounding so loud, that it nearly prevented her from hearing anything at all. He couldn't be gone. He couldn't leave her. Not like this. Not when…

"Oh Lucifer…" she whispered.

"...Yes?"

At first, Chloe didn't register what she had just heard. Then, lifting her head up, to her astonishment and utter relief, Lucifer stared back at her. A very much alive and very, very much amused by her reaction to his near death Lucifer. Before he had another chance to speak, Chloe's hand smacked him hard across the face.

"Ouch! What the bloody hell was that for?" He asked in disbelief, rubbing his stinging cheek.

"You asshole," she snapped, voice wavering between anger and relief. "I thought you were dead and you had the balls to act like it?!"

"Now I'm seeing that wasn't the brightest idea," Lucifer mumbled, still nursing side of his face. "But I am touched to see you cared."

"Christ, Lucifer," Chloe breathed, feeling weak as her adrenaline began dissipate. "I thought you were dead! Don't DO that! I don't know what I'd do if I'd lost you." She wiped away vigorously at the tears falling down her cheeks. "For a moment, I really thought…"

Lucifer's arms were around her before the first sob escaped from her mouth. She felt like a child again, clinging to her father after something bad happened. Tears streaming down her face, nose running, movies made crying look so pretty, not messy and ugly like hers. The sound of rain and the feeling of Lucifer's worn shirt pulled Chloe back to the present. When she met Lucifer's gaze, no longer did he seem amused. No, he looked guilty.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," he said, using her first name like he always seemed to do when serious. "I didn't really think about how me being a bloody idiot would affect you."

"No," she sniffed, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand. "You didn't. But that's why I lo…" Chloe caught herself. "That's what makes you my Lucifer." Finally smiling, her eyes flickered upwards, the rain, though cold, feeling pleasant on her face. "We should probably get going."

"About that," Lucifer interjected hesitantly. "My ankle may or may not be broken." When noticing the horror in her face, he quickly added. "Or sprained. Yes. More likely sprained. But I can walk!"

Before Chloe could stop him, Lucifer attempted to force himself into a standing position. The second pressure was applied to his left ankle, he let out a pained yelp and sunk back down to the ground in defeat.

"It's not that bad," he panted, clearly in pain. "I can manage. Really, I can. I've been through worse."

"You're not walking. Not like that." Chloe paused, thinking for a moment. "You heal when I'm not close." She ignored the look of concern growing on his face as he began to register what she was about to suggested. "It'll take weeks, maybe longer, before you're healed enough to even attempt walking normal."

"Detective, if you are about to suggest what I think you are," Lucifer started.

"The only way you are going to get better is if I get far enough away from you to heal." She held up her hand as he began to protest. "Look, it can't be that far right? I'll just go a little ways out and your ankle will fix itself in no time."

"You're not going out there alone," he countered. "I'd rather be drawn and quartered than for you to do that."

"We don't have much of a choice," she stated, taking note of a relatively dry area. "You don't like it. I don't like it. But it's our only option." Lucifer gave her a look of displeasure as she wrapped on arm around him. "C'mon, think you can manage to make it over here? So you are at least out of the rain."

"I'm not a baby," he muttered.

"Sometimes I wonder," she shot him a grin. When he didn't return the expression, Chloe sighed. "I'll be fine, I promise."

After some careful maneuvering, Chloe managed to get Lucifer to where he wasn't being pelted by rain. If she were honest, she felt just the same about him as he did her. But it was for the good of the group. For the good of him. Inhaling deeply, she looked towards the heavy woods before her. It couldn't be too terribly long of a walk, could it?

"I'll be back," she attempted to assure him. "And if something happens, I'll scream."

"NOT funny," Lucifer growled, before softening some. "But I suppose I deserved that one."

"At least that one," Chloe smiled, giving him one last look before turning towards the trees. "I best be off, I guess. Have fun healing." She tried to sound cheerful, hoping that it would somehow make everything okay. "Don't do anything stupid."

Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, Chloe began to walk away from her injured partner. She should be lucky, at least that's what she told herself. Most people can't just magically-or in Lucifer's case, "biblically"-heal like that. Yet, every step away from him felt so wrong. Was this the best choice?

"Detective!"

Chloe turned around, seeing Lucifer watching her like a hawk from his spot.

"Be careful, please," he urged. "I don't want...If you…"

"I know," she smiled. "I'll be alright. I always am."

As she disappeared from his sight, Lucifer let out a long, withheld exhale.

"That's why I worry..."

[etaeternum]

Bond of Blood

Mother of Griffons Ch. 12 Bond of Blood Alistair reflects on his experience when Caoilainn left the castle.

Find it on AO3 here or read from the beginning on tumblr

Alistair observed the small specks of dust floating in the sunlight the next morning as he rested in the bed at Skyhold. But this time he was not alone. He savored the moment with Caoilainn as she curled up under his arm, finally sound asleep. Deeply touched by the vulnerability she showed in what she admitted, and then as she cried herself to sleep, he was appreciative. He saw that her resentment ran deep, and he knew he was not responsible. None of his actions meant to harm her, and she would realize that with time. The clarity he gained for himself and the woman he loved came with their time apart, time alone.

Caoilainn did not realize that her connection to the Grey Wardens, her constant link to them, and them to each other, through the Taint in their blood was something he had learned to live without. It was a part of him he had to grieve the loss of when he left her at Vigil's Keep. The loneliness caused by the sudden absence of the hum of the union that became so vital to his life once he completed his Joining was devastating. He rejoiced when she returned to the castle. Willing to pretend he didn't know about her affair, contented by the reunion with the familiar spark of the Grey Warden connection, Alistair thought he would regain that part. And he did, at first. It was all he could ask for, and when they failed miserably to have a child and her depression worsened, she took it away. Again, he was alone.

'Blood of my blood,' she called her Wardens. Caoilainn seemed to forget that he too shared that bond of blood, long before she was the Mother of Griffons .

The anger he felt toward Caoilainn when she left  the castle did not subside for years. His anger grew to rage, and collapsed into despair, sorrow, and pain. Losing his wife, and his last connection to the Grey Wardens when she disappeared into the night. And he knew exactly where she went as soon as he realized she was missing. Vigil's Keep was her sanctum and once there, she would be unreachable. It was heartbreaking to discover he could not meet the needs she had filled as commander, and to be deserted yet again as a Grey Warden.

None of his advisors speak of the time after Caoilainn disappeared from the castle. The King's outbursts and fits of violence, often at the influence of alcohol, were numerous. There were also days at a time when he didn't leave his room. But at some point, he shifted. He stopped drinking, upheld his responsibilities as King by attending meetings, permitting audiences, signing treaties, and he returned to his combat training. Over time, the pain of losing Caoilainn faded. Or more specifically, it morphed into impetus. He took care of himself, made his own decisions, and stopped writing to her, accepting that he would not receive a reply. He kept his scouts at Vigil's Keep and gathered information about her. But what had been an obsession, an attempt to control the unruly woman, became a chance to learn about her.

And that was not his priority. It was merely a factor of a whole and he refused to lose himself again to her indifference. The new outlook developed as he hardened in his grief. He would no longer be stepped on, walked all over by his advisors or his wife. He would no longer be a pawn. Rather than resent her for his callousness, he was grateful to Caoilainn. Her leaving, his disconnection from the Grey Warden blood tie, it all empowered him. He became the king he wanted to be, not who he was told to be. It was liberating. The castle and kingdom was required to adapt as he held his ground, changing policies and no longer acting on the whim of others. He was consistent. The only person left to experience the new version of him was Caoilainn.

Despite her selfishness and her immaturity masked as a bullheaded and gorgeous queen who always got her way, he loved her fiercely. Unsure of his belief in soulmates, his need for her in his life was irrefutable. She was his mirror. Without her, he would not know where he needed to improve. Caoilainn challenged him, his patience, his commitment, his love, and he needed that.

He maintained unsettling clarity of this fact, and it founded his stability. When she was ready, he would tell her about what happened when she left and what he came to understand of himself. But for now his goal was to break through the walls she established, fortified, and strengthened. Because those walls were thick and reinforced, he knew of the requirement of his self-control and persistence. Alistair welcomed the challenge.

She stirred under his arm, blinked and looked up to him, embarrassed. Her eyes were puffy from a night of crying and dark circles showed the poor quality of rest she received. The best of her sleep being in the last few hours before daybreak. With a groan, Caoilainn laid on her back, looking up to the ceiling. Her mind a mixture of thoughts, confusion, fear of what Alistair would expect of her now that she had opened up to him. Distressed with this idea and angry with herself for allowing its potential, she closed her eyes in hopes it would go away.

"We have a meeting with the Inquisitor and her council today," he said calmly, professionally. She heard the vigilance in his tone.

"I need a bath," she replied, not directly responding to his comment but identifying what she desired before that could happen.

"Ah yes. Preferably with bubbles and a glass of wine?" He joked at her request, remembering her favorite way to unwind in the castle.

"If only," she laughed lightly, longingly. "I suppose a bucket of water and a cloth will have to do." She rose from the bed, her lean form visible under her chemise as the light shone on her; gooseflesh appeared on her exposed arms and legs as it met the cold air. When she reached the sink, she brought the cold water to her face, several times. She was grateful for the coolness soothing the puffiness of her eyes and awaking her nerves.

"I'll just lay here and watch," Alistair sat up on the bed and leaned against the headboard. His hands came to rest behind his head. He was in his small clothes. The defined muscles of his bare arms, chest and stomach were obvious.

Caoilainn turned to look at him, mildly annoyed but mostly amused. Pleased with what she saw, her attempt to stifle her smile failed. "Don't you have King things to do?"

"They can wait," he shrugged with a grin.

The attractiveness of the half-naked man lying on her bed was indisputable, and that confounded her. "Well your little peep show will have to wait. I have to get to the training yard and direct my Wardens since I'm short a lieutenant." Testing the tension between them, she was curious of how he would react to her words.

He was silent as he stared at her with a smile that she couldn't read. Unable to define if it was sarcastic, annoyed, or genuine, her heart fluttered.

Then Alistair rose from the bed. Her stomach tightened. Is this fear? Excitement? What the fuck is he doing?

With slow steps, and unflinching eye contact, he came to her. She stood frozen, and he stood close. Her head tilted back as she looked up to him, regaining control, her arm pressed lightly against his muscled chest. Her voice a plea for space, "Alist…."

He didn't let her finish. His large hand weaved through her hair and his head bowed to meet hers. His kiss, forceful and passionate, screamed of a merciless love. It staggered her, and she welcomed it, devoured it, without inhibition. When it was over she was still, overcome. He gave a smile, kissed her forehead, and walked to his belongings on the other end of the room.

A blank stare, startled by her own pleasure, she watched studiously as Alistair dressed, part of her still waiting for his response to her plans for the day. When he was fully clothed, he walked to the door and turned to look at her. Grinning, but undoubtedly serious, he informed: "You'll give me that show tonight, my love."

Her stomach danced with elation and she nodded dumbfounded. "...Yes, my King." The words fell out of her mouth on their own accord. Caoilainn's hands covered her lips in response to the shock of what she just said.

His smile widened, and he bowed his head before he left the room.

Flabbergasted, excited, Caoilainn recovered from the interaction and dressed. She went to the Grey Warden training yard to direct the Wardens and prepare them for the departure for the Arbor Wilds that would occur in the next few days. Orders given to other lieutenants to lead training, and herself directing the warriors. She practiced with her longsword and dagger. Previously Duncan's longsword and dagger. It was something she rarely got the chance to do, but her years spent battling darkspawn and acting as commander proved effective. Her skill with her blades had not diminished.

But today, her mind kept wandering back to Alistair. Back to their communication that morning, the smile he gave as he watched her at the sink, his kiss. Her stomach continued to flutter anxiously as she thought of what he might require of her that night. It was irritating. The interfering thoughts caused her to miss numerous opportunities to parry as she practiced. It required overwhelming effort to block the thoughts and focus on her training. Disappointed with her performance, she spoke with another officer of the Wardens and gave orders to continue without her. She made her way into Skyhold for the meeting with the Inquisitor, aware of the terribly inconvenient distraction Alistair would be. Part of her was giddy. Another loathed the experience she expected and the personal weakness she saw within herself.

Just before dawn, the Grey Wardens rose and packed their camp. The night passed with no threats from any bandits, animals, or other enemy. Silent and diligent, the group broke down the camp and loaded their horses without needing orders from Nathaniel. When they finished, Nathaniel called the group to a circle.

"Wardens, we're making good time. Keep it up. The earlier we can get there, the more time we have to survey the area for risks. We must be cautious and thorough. Our archer, Isenam," he gestured to one of the Elven archers in their party, "will help us navigate the Arbor Wilds." The archer nodded his head in a respectful reply. "We are a safeguard to the Inquisition and we have an advantage with our skills as scouts. And some of us," he looked at Hale with authority and she shifted her weight onto her left leg. "Have the opportunity to learn more about how Grey Wardens do things." He took a deep breath and scanned the members' reactions. All looked ready, determined as Grey Wardens should. Then he raised his fist to his chest and met their eyes. "The motto," he directed.

The group sang their motto together, united by their bond and the depth of their words. "In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."

"Let's ride!" Nathaniel called as they separated and went to their mounts.

[verdigrisprowl]

May 28 Dancitron Movie Night - Slapstick Night

The last movie night before Soundwave’s vacation. Consisting of a variety of Three Stooges, Marx Brothers, and Abbott & Costello.

Prowl had a great time.

ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave settles into his couch and stretches his legs across it. Tonight is a lazy night.* VProwl *appears. surveys couch. well, the seat appears to be bumpier than he's used to, but he can work with this.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave bobs his head at Prowl. Good evening.* VProwl *nods back. good evening.* *all right. he's sitting on soundwave's legs.* ItsyBitsySpyers *HOLD ON LET HIM MOVE THEM* VProwl *it appears he is being a-jostled. never mind, he's standing.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Please, sit. Just not on his shins.]] VProwl What, that isn't my seat tonight? ItsyBitsySpyers [[It is. He wanted to - never mind.]] VProwl @S «If you'd prefer your thighs...» *humor ping* ItsyBitsySpyers *....Tiny brighten.* @P: [[He would.]]

*You put it out there. He's calling you on it.* VProwl @S «I'm sure you would. But I'd rather not relocate myself when guests start arriving. After the show?» @S «So what's tonight's showing about?» *considers the music currently playing* «... Zombies, or cranberries?» VProwl *oh hey, prowl's favorite song* ItsyBitsySpyers *Damn. He thought that would work.*

@P: [[After the show, then. He holds you to that. And to him, at that point.]]

@P: [[Tonight's showing is neither of those. It is Earth slapstick humor.]] VProwl *slapstick? slapstick? gives soundwave a bright-opticked look.* *... and then very calmly sits in his lap.* ItsyBitsySpyers @P: [[Ah. Perhaps he should have done tonight's content sooner.]]

*Lightly wraps his arms around Prowl's middle. Easy enough to get out of when others show up.* Windchill *Windchill wanders in with The Worm, sorry everyone.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Ah. Short-lived, but comfortable.*

[[Greetings, Windchill.]] VProwl *the moment has been had, slides off.* Windchill *Pretends to have seen nothing.* Prowl *arrives too late to not see anything* Windchill *He's a little busy being surprised that he isn't the last one in for once anyway.* ItsyBitsySpyers ((we start in 11 minutes)) Windchill *Windchill holds up his worm by way of greeting. She looks unimpressed with this maneuver.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Greetings, youngling. Not one for heights?]] Windchill *No, she merely thinks herself above everyone else without Dad's assistance, that's all.* *Unbridled arrogance runs in the family. It doesn't stop her from coolly surveying her surroundings, looking for something to eat.* ItsyBitsySpyers *There are the usual snacks on the bar, and if she looks to her left, a nibbled-on snack that used to be Laserbeak's. That is, it still is Laserbeak's, but it could be hers if she eats it. Fair turn against how Bird usually operates.* Windchill *Unfortunate.* Swoop *FULL ON slides through the door to a stop across the room* ItsyBitsySpyers *Sits up and stares at the dinoslide.* Swoop *arms up* [[...How musically appropriate.]] Swoop *won at this move* Windchill *Windchill turns to find a seat but is cut off by Worm Peeping and dramatic pointing towards the snack table, as if she'd never eaten in her entire LIFE instead of just before arriving.* ItsyBitsySpyers ((...did rabbit just attribute soundwave's telepathy to swoop)) Prowl ((it did Swoop ((apparently he can speak through swoop now?)) VProwl ((apparently so)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((HOT DAMN don't let prowl find out)) Swoop ((a terrible power for all parties involved)) VProwl ((prowl will assume this is soundwave's version of ventriloquism and be very impressed)) Swoop *scrambles to his feet* JURASSIC WORLD 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Windchill *Windchill grunts, and waves at Swoop, who appears to be yelling nonsense that he's going to ignore for the moment because his spawn is screaming in his ear.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[It would seem she does want fuel. Take as much as you wish. The last two weekends have been somewhat slow. Not as many mechs from certain timelines around for some reason.]] Swoop *some might say he's dancing with excitement, they'd be very liberal with their definition of dance, it's a wiggle* ItsyBitsySpyers ((prowl honey you don't want to see soundwave's version of ventriloquism. unless you think severed heads are funny.)) [[Another dinosaur movie? Didn't they just have one?]] Swoop First one FOREEEEEEEEVER ago!! ItsyBitsySpyers ((ok where did i put my warnings uhhhh)) Windchill Thanks... *This is spoken with a measure of dread, knowing a monster is in the making if she gets her way.* ItsyBitsySpyers ((AHA thank you windows 10 update for clearing all my history and recently opened lists and stuff you butt 😐 anyway WARNINGS: Slapstick violence, old-timey sexism, possible animal injury, outdated science, bad accent imitation.)) Windchill *He moves to the table anyway so she can point at the ones she wants, acquires a small selection, and takes a seat before she gets it into her giant head to leap from his arms and devour the entire table.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[If the second one is not terrible, he will consider showing it. But that is a long time from now. For the moment... slapstick.]] Swoop *squeaks* KAY VProwl *prowl is Ready* *and hey--even Swoop might not complain tonight.* Windchill *Dear god.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave's on the ball this time, he sets his timeline's Prowl up with a special camera feed.* VProwl *pings alternate with video feed. this is an entirely visual art and she should get to appreciate it.* Prowl *all the feeds* *accepts both, to better appreciate all the... art* Swoop *doesn't see Bird and is cripplingly disapointed for a solid two seconds before he recognizes what this is and scrambles over to watch* ItsyBitsySpyers *...Wait, is Swoop actually interested?* Swoop *sits on the floor in front of someone unfortunate* Windchill *You can make it Windchill.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Don't humans usually put things on the loaves of ground reproductive plant organs.]] *Huff. He kept eating the soap...* Swoop *has a crest for MAXIMUM blocking view and giggles at the silly runs* KEHEHEH umbrella Windchill This speaks to me. ItsyBitsySpyers [[This is roughly the same method he must use to wake Frenzy.]] VProwl Food, gongs, and violence? Swoop keheh them THROW like Ratchet Windchill *Reaches out to poke Swoop with a toe while Blue munches on the first snack of the evening.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Not the violence. Occasionally a splash of solvent when he is too deep in recharge after a grand outburst.]] Swoop *just assume every time someone gets hit or hurt swoop laughs WAY loud* ItsyBitsySpyers *They won't be selling THOSE bottles.* VProwl Pff. Swoop *sets a hand on the toe without looking away* VProwl ... Flawless sales technique. Windchill *He's trapped.* Swoop kehhehh ! * looks over at Soundwave* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Do not go into the sales business, Prowl.]] *Glances at Swoop.* Swoop Soundwave Is 3 Stooges a trine? ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave sits up and turns his head from one side to the other.*

[[He... He does not know.]] VProwl More or less. Pff! Windchill *Raises his brows.* VProwl *you've seen it here folks: the first and last time Prowl will laugh at a cop.* ItsyBitsySpyers *He's got it recorded, don't worry.* VProwl *... unless this skit has another one.* Windchill Make this old body new, please. *Vaporize him right here.* Swoop You old? ItsyBitsySpyers ((orders a 2 liter of coke and a 2 liter of sprite... gets pepsi and 7up. so close, and yet so far.)) Windchill Very old. Swoop How old? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Not as old as some.]] Windchill (( You tried. )) ItsyBitsySpyers *Stares at own Prowl.* [[That's medicine? What does it do, remove unnecessary organs?]] Swoop *for once picks up on Soundwave's body language and looks at Prowl too* Windchill I'm...old? VProwl *completely fails to pick up on Soundwave's body language.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Is that valid math.]] Swoop ((It just sunk in own wildly unsettling having Soundwave AND a dinobot stare at you at the same time would be. SOmething is about to happen to you, but it's very unclear what...)) Windchill *Furrows his brows. He doesn't really know how to answer Swoop's question. Meanwhile, Blue devours another treat happily, her feet kicking with every CHOMP.* VProwl It depends. If their performance is being evaluated independently and the failure of one or two would not doom the remainder, they do indeed have three chances. Prowl *loses the staring contest with Soundwave...* ItsyBitsySpyers *Loud huff. Wordplay. Best.* ((and yeah that WOULD be frightening)) Swoop *absolutely falls into a giggle fit at the skull knocking* VProwl *oh, there are the cranberries.* ItsyBitsySpyers *THAT DOESN'T COUNT* Windchill *Shrugs.* VProwl ... Humans' internal environments are highly acidic and, therefore, acid-resistant. It's possible that this is indeed fine medicine, even though it strips paint. Swoop *is literally rolling on the floor* Windchill You having fun, Swoop? Prowl *huffs at the sign* Windchill *Pokes with OTHER toe.* ItsyBitsySpyers *mimics the sign on his visor for a second before deciding it's useful and filing it away* VProwl ... if it dissolves fabric it's probably going to...... do that. Dissolve his hair. Swoop *covers where the toe poked him and looks up from his giggle fit* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He can grow more. Things always continue growing on humans.]] VProwl *huff.* Windchill *Other toe: trapped* VProwl *another huff.* They'd go faster if they just walked. Prowl *amused hum at the body pile up* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Oh! He recognizes this. Is the Scooby canine going to appear?]] VProwl *HUFF. How—?* Who? Swoop *loses it when they all tumble over the bed* ItsyBitsySpyers [[A mystery investigating dog. He often gets involved in chases like these.]] Swoop *ends up watching upside down from his spot on the floor on his back* Prowl What kind of mysteries? Windchill *Reaches down to poke Swoop's toe.* VProwl *shoulders tremble. what a mighty sailboat.* Swoop *holds whatever windchill uses to poke him with his toes* ItsyBitsySpyers [[The world is safer with them in bed.]] Windchill *Both feet and an entire hand, gone.* Help. VProwl It is. Swoop Her Bird say "Me old!" You old as Bird? Windchill *Blue looks down, but doesn't seem even the slightest bit concerned with her father's predicament.* VProwl *oh! Marx Brothers!* Windchill Uh. How old is Bir-Laserbeak? Prowl Ha, haddock. Swoop Umm Dunno Old ItsyBitsySpyers [[Primus.]] *Puts his helm in his hand. May he never hire anyone this dim for his door keeping.* Windchill Oh. VProwl *shoulders tremble.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Laserbeak is nearly twice as old as he is.]] Windchill That's very informative. Prowl They're both younger than me. Swoop Her older than Me Swoop 😆 ItsyBitsySpyers [[Primus himself is younger than you.]] Prowl *Prowl's being helpful* He wishes. Windchill Almost everyone is older than you, Swoop. ItsyBitsySpyers *Nudges Prowl with elbow.*

@P: [[You may like this one.]] Swoop Bob no-- :x Windchill *He cups his chin with his remaining free hand while Blue wipes her sticky fingers on his cheek.* Bob? VProwl @S «... I think I've seen this one.» Swoop *sits up and pulls all his limbs around himself* ItsyBitsySpyers *Considers. ... Oh, yes.*

@P: [[That is right. You have. Well, you may enjoy it again.]] VProwl @S «I'm sure I will.» ItsyBitsySpyers ((it's here cause it's my favorite, sorry)) Swoop *wraps his arms around his knees and glowers* Windchill *Grunts. He hadn't seen Bob in a while but wasn't going to say anything.* VProwl ((it's a good one to include.)) *oh this part* Windchill I was created towards the end of the golden age, if that answers your question. That's all I know. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Approximately how insulting is "Judgy"? To the average judge you might've known.]] Windchill *Would poke but can't risk his remaining hand.* Swoop *has absolutely no interest in Windchill's answer and digs ducks his chin behind his knees* *is curled up into quite the irritated ball with his wings held close* Windchill You okay, Swoop? *Well, he's obviously not but he'll give him an opportunity to do...whatever it is he's gotta do.* *Blue, for her part, suffers no feelings of sympathy and continues eating smugly.* VProwl All the judges I knew were Golden Age ladder-climbers awarded the positions by people far more powerful than them, and wanted to act like they'd always been there. So, extremely. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He understands.]] *Pause.* [[He will be sure to use it if ever he meets them.]] VProwl To be fair, I knew four. ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave watches Windchill and Swoop now and then, in the slow moments of the show. Not that there are many.* *Small feeler wiggle.* [[Rather catchy.]] Prowl Delightful. *huffs* VProwl *kind of shrill.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He must remember to ask if Tarantulas spends much time sitting on human scalps.]] Windchill *PBBBT sound over Swoop's head.* VProwl Not if that's the kind of treatment he'd get. Prowl The dancer was decently skilled for what they were doing. ItsyBitsySpyers *Makes one of the little honk-hoot noises himself.* VProwl *huff.* *HUFF.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He doesn't see the judge's problem. Trials would be far more entertaining with live re-enactments.]] VProwl Unfortunately, that's not the objective of trials. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Perhaps with more skilled and sensible actors than these.]] [[There were people behind the gate. They are clearly an audience.]] Windchill *Isn't convinced.* VProwl They're not there to be entertained. ItsyBitsySpyers [[They can't /all/ be victims.]] Windchill *With this group, they could all be victims shortly* VProwl That doesn't mean they don't have a some other interest in seeing how the trial goes. Swoop *swats at Windchill when he blows raspberries near him and sneers* Windchill *This is how Windchill reacts to achieving anything. He relates.* *His hand is now freed, at least.* VProwl Acquaintances of the defendant or victim. News reporters. Et cetera. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Hmm. Accepted.]] Windchill There's no reason to hit, Swoop. Swoop *chatters irritably* Windchill You wanna sit up here with us? Blue can share her snacks. Swoop NO VProwl ... That's very suspicious evidence. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Spies?]] Windchill You're just going to sit on the floor? VProwl Oh! Duck Soup! Swoop *nods with an pursed expression* Windchill *His ear flicks, he glances up...and already knows this isn't the kind of spying he's going to acknowledge.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Sits up. Points at the one with a face on the other side.* [[Counterpunch.]]

[[And does it count as evidence if it was part of a different piece of evidence and not submitted on its own?]] Windchill Okay. *He'll keep an optic on Swoop, then.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He is having flashbacks to the early days.]] VProwl Mm. Earth laws. *Marx Bros is on, he doesn't realize that doesn't anser the question.* Windchill *He sits back like a normal person again, and crosses a leg over his knee since his feet aren't being held hostage anymore.* Swoop *holds his own toes and chews on his knee guard* ItsyBitsySpyers *Puffing repeatedly at all the scissor tricks.* [[That poor human has come up a little short in the end.]] VProwl *at this point is, just, faintly trembling at the whole scene.* Windchill Wow. VProwl *however he is very nearly managing to keep a straight face.* ItsyBitsySpyers *But only very nearly.* VProwl *indeed* ItsyBitsySpyers [[New and 2nd Hand clothes. This is a glove shop?]] Windchill *Glares at the spelling on these windows.* VProwl *SNORT.* "Altercations." Swoop *mumbles to himself, whether words happen is debatable* Windchill What's wrong with you Swoop? ItsyBitsySpyers *HAH* Windchill *As in you Swoop, not you, Swoop. An important distinction.* Swoop *snarls at Windchill* NOTHING ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Calm down, Swoop.]] Windchill Okay. Swoop *kicks his legs out in front of himself then immediately changes his stompy little mind and curls back up* ItsyBitsySpyers *The last thing he wants on the night before he heads off for a while is a Dinobot temper tantrum.* VProwl *is sadly unable to appreciate this innovative cooking technique.* ItsyBitsySpyers *It looks fine to him* Swoop *stomps his heels because he can* ItsyBitsySpyers *He never knew human armor could be so troublesome.* VProwl ... Just weigh them down on either end. *he says, knowing that he won't.* HAH! *manages to get a hand over his mouth before the second smack* *and it barely holds on the third.* Windchill You want to go outside, Swoop? Swoop NO *mumbles* no no no Windchill Okay. What do you want to do? ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave is somewhat leaned on Prowl for support after that whole clothes on a table bit.*

*He still doesn't know what's going on with Swoop - he could, if he searched Swoop's mind, but that's not a thing he's going to do in present company - but it's not ending in fire and Windchill took it on himself t find out, so. He'll simply listen.* Swoop *throws himself on the floor belly first with an irritated HUFF* Windchill You want to lie there and act out? Swoop NO Windchill *That's his job.* Then maybe you should stop. Swoop NO NO NO Windchill Then what are you going to do instead? ItsyBitsySpyers *Huff.* Swoop *pushes his cheek to the floor and mumbles* no no no no no Windchill *Sighs a little.* VProwl *SNORT. from behind hand:* They're terrible at math. Windchill Okay, you can be miserable on the floor if that's what you want. Swoop *lets out an angry squack at Windchill* Windchill Getting angry at me isn't going to make it better. I'm ignoring you now. Swoop *flails enough to awkwardly roll over and cross his arms AT windchill* Windchill *Doesn't make eye contact. He's watching the show.* Swoop *grows increasingly scowl-y until he kicks Windchill's shin* Windchill You're going to get kicked out. ItsyBitsySpyers *Nope. Soundwave opens a bridge right under him.* Swoop *FWOOP no more swoop* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He apologizes for that.]] Windchill *Rubs an eyebrow tiredly.* What happened to Bob? ItsyBitsySpyers [[He does not know. Bob disappeared, and nobody has heard from them. Not even him.]] [[Laserbeak tells him the assumption is that Bob is dead.]] VProwl *oh, MORE duck soup.* *in preparation of this scene, he's just, gonna, put his elbows on his knees and very casually lace his hands in front of his mouth.* Windchill Ah. *That's barely new information.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Well, he's been busy, and it's hard to update what's known when nothing new appears.* Windchill *He'll deal with it later.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[That one does not talk here either?]] VProwl He doesn't talk at all. ... He plays instruments, though. ItsyBitsySpyers [[That one is now his favorite. And also the most entertaining.]] VProwl *hffff.* *he's just, trembling. for the rest of the scene.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Brightens. He knows what's going to happen next time the horn-- yep.* Windchill *Covers his mouth and tries really hard to not think about penises.* VProwl *ahhhh okay. give him a second. he's recovering.* Windchill *It was a mighty effort.* *But he failed.* VProwl ... There's more than one lemonade scene. ItsyBitsySpyers *Doesn't know enough about human biology to think or not think about them.*

[[More than one?]] VProwl Yes, they harass him at least one more time. Windchill *Points* Horse. Prowl *this dancing is disappointing* ItsyBitsySpyers *Cringes at that last note* Windchill This is the saddest rendition of this song I've ever heard. ItsyBitsySpyers *Points at the bike.* [[Bicycle.]] [[And he did not know they did. If he had, he would have added that to the list. He will search for it in the future.]] Windchill *Waits for something to point at.* Prowl Is there anything with better dancing on your list? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Not that he knows of. He assumes the terrible dancing is meant to be humorous.]] Prowl It's not. VProwl *... the dancing looks fine to him. but what does he know.* Windchill *Blue snags another snack and pops it in her mouth, chews vigorously...and makes a hideous 'GROSS' face.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Spots that face.* [[Don't you dare spit that out.]] Windchill *Windchill looks down to see what the problem is. Oh.* *Blue keeps chewing and making the nasty face.* Prowl *huffs* Windchill *Chill offers a hand for her to spit it out in, but she recoils and writhes to get away. She REFUSES. It's in her mouth, she's going to EAT IT.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Brave spark* Windchill Stubborn. *He looks up to announce this proudly.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[.../Dozens?/]] Windchill *Points.* Mule. And dog. *Covers his mouth.* *Blue pats her own face, because she has to do like dad do.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He... he just dropped that on the chickens...]] Windchill Reminds me of Megatron. VProwl Well. They were going to eat them anyway. ItsyBitsySpyers [[They said nothing about pancakes.]] VProwl What are pancakes? Windchill Oh NO. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Flat foods. He has seen them on human cooking shows at Smokescreen's movie nights.]] Windchill OH NO. ItsyBitsySpyers [[When someone carves holes into them, they become wattles.]] Windchill *Blinks.* *Well, the animals are okay so he's fine with it.* VProwl *doesn't know what wattles are either, but okay.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Neither does he, really. That's just what he learned.* Windchill *Bluebottle grabs another snack, the same approximate colour as the last one.* VProwl ... Earth money doesn't form naturally in the ground like that. *he says. dubiously. like he's not really sure.* Windchill They say it grows on trees. Or... Doesn't grow on trees? Prowl *cringes* Windchill *Damn it, he doesn't remember.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[If it does, then it does form naturally in the ground. Doesn't it?]] Windchill *Points.* Horses. ItsyBitsySpyers *Huffing at the statue riding* VProwl Remarkably low center of gravity and low coefficient of friction on that statue. Windchill *He's distracted by horses, and fails to notice what's happening in his lap until it's too late.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Looks at Prowl. What?* Windchill *Bluebottle CHUCKS the treat in her hand across the room in vengeance.* *Windchill's head whips around so fast it nearly comes clean off.* VProwl *looks back at Soundwave. What?* Windchill Young lady. ItsyBitsySpyers *Snaps a feeler out to grab that. Regrets it.* [[...Ugh.]] *Gently deposits that in the bin behind the bar.* [[What were you saying, Prowl?]] Windchill *Tries not to laugh.* My apologies. *He's gonna move the snacks out of her reach and give them to her one by one, now. She can't be trusted.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Oh dear.]] *That's money owed.* VProwl Nothing. *there's a new skit on.* Windchill *Looks a little bit bewildered by this.* That was too real. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Perhaps they should consult a phone book.]] VProwl He needs to stop putting hats on. Windchill Look at all of that delicate earthenware. ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Wait.]] Prowl *huffs* VProwl *shoulders tremble* Windchill *Wipes away a secret tear.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He looks very good for a fleshling crushed from fifteen stories.]] Windchill *He feels like this is what happens whenever he meets someone new, too.* Called it. ItsyBitsySpyers [[...It must be a very terrible company.]] Windchill There should be a proper investigation into this hat company thing. *Vents.* Prowl Indeed. VProwl Q-quite terrible. Windchill *Points* Horse. Eheheheh. ItsyBitsySpyers [[What a horrible fate.]] Windchill I could use some of that. VProwl Well, they could stand to cool their heads a bit. ItsyBitsySpyers *Appreciative ping.*

[[We do not carry ice here. He will not apologize for that.]] Windchill Do you want me to bring you some? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Absolutely not.]] Windchill Okay then, more for me. VProwl ... Is that the same staircase from the piano skit? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Piano skit?]] *Looks at Prowl.* [[Have you seen these?]] [[Hah. The perfect fate for ice.]] VProwl Not this. Another skit by Laurel and Hardy. They have to carry a piano up a staircase like that. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Who is Laurelandhardy?]] VProwl Laurel. Hardy. Two other slapstick performers. Windchill It's fine. ItsyBitsySpyers [[A little adhesive...]] Windchill A little spit. It'll freeze right over. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He did not know of their existence. He would have added them.]] *Makes a note to search for them in the future.* *Prowl sitting on his lap is always a fine time.* [[...Has this human never heard of a box.]] VProwl *shoulders tremble* Windchill They're gonna have to. VProwl *run, human* Windchill Put him on ice. ItsyBitsySpyers *Oh that was DELIGHTFUL* *Exclamation point and blip.* Prowl *huffs* Windchill *Gives his best witch cackle.* VProwl ... I don't think that's a dash. ItsyBitsySpyers *Faint wheezing noise coming from his vents.* *That would be his fans having trouble keeping up.* VProwl *doesn't know enough about cooking to get half these jokes, but trembling from the ones he does.* Windchill *He's not going to say anything, He swears to himself he's not.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave watched several seasons of Chopped and Cutthroat Kitchen and gets more of them, but absolutely believes there's a zipper.* *Also sees nothing wrong with the hose.* Windchill This party looks awful. ItsyBitsySpyers [[It is on the sedate side. But that can be soothing at times.]] Windchill It's almost as bad as if they'd invited me. *'Cept he'd be wrecking the place on purpose, let's be real.* VProwl There's certainly a spring in his step. ItsyBitsySpyers *NUDGES* VProwl *what* ItsyBitsySpyers *He liked that one.* Windchill *HE'S NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING.* *There's no one to appreciate his filthy comments.* VProwl *LAUGHS* ItsyBitsySpyers *STARTLES A TAD BIT* Windchill *Shakes his head.* That's how I want to go out. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Tumbling down a staircase?]] Windchill Or exploding. I'm not picky. *Spaces out a little. Numbers.* VProwl ... This is terrible. *he says, delighted.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[The employer should be punished.]] *Also trembling a bit.* VProwl Absolutely. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He has two mouths?]] ((there's one long and one short one left)) VProwl "Having another mouth to feed" is a human euphemism for having another person dependent upon your income to eat. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Ah. Then why was the other one upset? Earth fish must eat.]] VProwl Usually it's used to talk about another another /human/ person dependent upon your income. ItsyBitsySpyers [[How selfish.]] Windchill Eh. VProwl *an episode about TRYING to get arrested?* Windchill It's not unusual. Ehehehe. ItsyBitsySpyers [[None of that. We had enough of mechs attempting to replicate that prank during business hours after Rumble spread the Pussycat skit.]] Windchill *He passes the final treat to Blue, who eats it whilst kicking her feet.* Windchill ...Did they break it? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Solitary refinement.]] Windchill *Sputters at "refinement."* ItsyBitsySpyers [[For the elegant criminal in your life.]] VProwl To clean up his act. Windchill I think that's called a hermitage. ItsyBitsySpyers *Shaking.* [[He clocked him.]] VProwl *sideways smile at Soundwave* Heh! Windchill I'd...Yeah. Prowl *perks, dancing?* Windchill Looks complicated. VProwl *Thanks to Prowl's HUD, his alternate gets an opportunity to learn that when Prowl's looking at Soundwave when he says something Prowl likes, a helpful label pops up point at Soundwave that says "<3"* *very precise mathematical notations here* Prowl *.......................* VProwl ((discord i didn't ask you to turn that less than three into a flurry of hearts but it's cute so i'll leave it)) ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave knows enough about human clothing to blip LOUDLY* Prowl *huffs* VProwl *thinks her skirt just turned into a shorter skirt. doesn't see the problem.* ItsyBitsySpyers *The things you learn when you've spent time around mechs that like to replicate fleshling clothes on a large scale, inconvenient though it may be.* Windchill *Snickers.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Tearing up the dance floor.]] Windchill Pffft. Prowl Ha. VProwl .... They're using their sewing skills. I didn't know their skits had internal continuity. ItsyBitsySpyers [[She floored him.]] VProwl Soundwave! ItsyBitsySpyers [[Neither did he. They must go through many jobs. And conjunxes.]]

[[...What?]] VProwl *............ affection ping.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Ohhhhh. He sees.*

*He sends one back. Plus one.* ((I'M DYING)) Prowl *enjoying this bit immensely* ItsyBitsySpyers ((i missed that line the first time i watched this)) Windchill The mating call. VProwl ((now that's a fashion statement.)) ... How many shoes do they have? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Several. They pre-paired for just such an occasion.]] Prowl That was enjoyable. Windchill *Smacks his lips.* VProwl *takes him a moment.* ... SOUND—! Prowl *her doors tremble slightly* VProwl *just. hides his face.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Never let a Soundwave know your weaknesses.* Windchill *He's survived thus far.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Well, he doesn't want Windchill on his lap.* *Also, it's rude to murder your guests.* Windchill *This is fair.* VProwl *if THESE are the weaknesses he exploits, Prowl can live with that.* Windchill *Furrows his brows.* Prowl *liked the dancing one better* Windchill *Stretches down to his pointy toes.* *Blue stretches too.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave opens his vents all the way and fluffs his armor out a little to help get rid of some of the heat from contained laughter and slowly slumps in Prowl's direction.* [[An excellent night's entertainment.]]

*No damned needles or mind control, for once.* VProwl Indeed. *his elbows are still on his knees. he is a rock. he can support soundwave's slumping.* Prowl *ends both feeds, no need to see more <3 since there's nothing else to watch* ItsyBitsySpyers *Not that it's hard, since he weighs just about nothing.*

[[Thank you three for joining him.]] *Has no idea the other Prowl has been seeing <3 * Windchill *He hoists his spawn to his shoulder, only to get patted fondly on the eyeball for it.* Prowl *"I'll never tell~"* VProwl Thank you for hosting. Windchill I'm starting to think that visors are the right idea. Prowl Yes, thank you, Soundwave. ItsyBitsySpyers *Starts to formulate a thought picking on his timeline's Prowl and prevention of optic damage. Decides to be good. Just for tonight.* VProwl *doesn't even realize he has exposed his Terrible Secret.* Prowl *knows things now she never wanted to know, has an eidetic memory thanks to her memory system... will never forget these things* ItsyBitsySpyers [[They're subject to handprints, as with any other glass-like material.]] Prowl Also breakage. ItsyBitsySpyers *Which they normally would not have, but, well, smeary youngling.* Windchill Better that than getting my eye poked out. It's happened before. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Would you say that you have learned this in hindsight?]] Windchill .... *Considers this.* *Just kind of gives Soundwave a look.* ItsyBitsySpyers *With both eyes intact, one hopes. Nobody likes staring into an empty socket.* Windchill You don't have to call me out like this. Prowl *...rude* ItsyBitsySpyers [[How would you prefer he call you out?]] Windchill *Both eyes are intact at the moment, for the record.* Prowl I suppose slapstick humor has its moments. I wasn't certain I would enjoy a brand of comedy that involved so much violence. Windchill I wouldn't. *He sticks out his tongue, because he's joking.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[We can't always have what we want.]] Windchill You're telling me. *He turns his spawn around, pointing a claw at Soundwave to get her attention in the hopes that maybe, someday, she'll turn out better than her dad did.* Can you thank Soundwave for your snacks? VProwl It's essentially the only form of violence I find enjoyable. It helps that it seems to be so... non-permanent. ItsyBitsySpyers *Waits curiously to see what the Worm does.* Prowl That does help. Windchill *Blue blinks impassively at Soundwave, but appears to consider it before violently shaking her head.* *Chill scoffs.* Prowl *could have done with less fingers being jammed into eyes though, eugh* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Of course it's non-permanent. Poking optics out can't be amusing anymore if you haven't left yourself any to poke.]] *Soundwave places a shocked smiley on his face.* [[That terrible, were they? Well, never mind. He will have different ones for you next time, youngling.]] VProwl *that's the most sociopathic argument against causing grievous bodily harm he's ever heard. he's almost impressed.* Windchill *Blue sticks her own foot in her mouth to get out of saying anything to anyone.* VProwl *he's also not going to say that out loud.* Windchill She liked them, she's just being an anti-social butt. Like me. Prowl Maybe for you. ItsyBitsySpyers *He's merely saying you can't make a career off of it if you use up all your material in the first skit.* *But yes, probably best keep that to himself.* [[Has she considered a visor?]] Windchill *He bounces the worm, and stands.* A visor? ItsyBitsySpyers [[No need to make eye contact and socialize with anyone else if they can't see hers.]] Windchill I'm sure it will occur to her when someone tries to poke her eye out. *He gives his spawn a pointed look, and she grins around her own foot. She knows exactly what's being said, here.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Very well.]] [[Until then, he will impersonate a doctor and prescribe rest for most of the room's current inhabitants.]] Windchill We'll sleep when we're dead. *Or the moment they get home, whichever.* Thanks for the snacks. *He clicks, trying to get Worm attention again.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Nods.* VProwl *mumbles* Class B misdemeanor. Windchill Can you say goodbye to everyone? *Blue sucks loudly on her foot before pulling it out of her mouth, yells "BAH!" and puts it right back where she found it.* ...I'll take what I can get. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Goodbye.]]

*And though Prowl can't see it, glancing over in secret.*

@P: [[He supposes asking how to get you to forgive that would be bribing an officer of the law.]] Windchill All right then, we're going. It's about time someone yanked her carrier's visor off and punched him in the eye again, yeah? *He nods knowingly at his worm, who wiggles back.* Yeah. VProwl @S «It would be. So it had better be a very /impressive/ one.» Windchill *They turn to leave, and Chill waves nonchalantly over his shoulder.* Bye, suckers. *He'll deposit the baby at home...and check on Swoop.* VProwl @S «... But for the record, once the humorous flirting is done, I don't want this scenario to actually carry on into any sort of bedroom roleplay. Bribery is a turn off.» VProwl ((CRO HAS FALLEN. I, PUFF--)) ((oh hey there cro)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((GIMME THAT CROWN)) ((this was great comedy)) ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave experiences a brief glitch, probably from overheating, and shakes his helm a little. He'll have to get that circuit checked.*

@P: [[No, no. He knows you do not like actual roleplay. Mm, but one moment.]] VProwl @S «All right.» ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave glances over at the Prowl from his world and performs the mental equivalent of clearing his throat.*

[[He apologizes, but he must close down for the night. He trusts you can see yourself out.]]

*He pauses for a second, and decides that even though it was unintentional, he'd better not put notice on that remark.* Prowl *she's already standing up and pauses at the word choice before deciding it's not... really worth making a fuss over* VProwl *gives soundwave a look. soundwave you can't just say that. soundwave was that unintentional.* ItsyBitsySpyers @P: [[He didn't mean it that way.]] VProwl @S «Good.» Prowl Soundwave. Captain. *nods to them... and sends a <3 to them both before leaving* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave sits up SUPER STRAIGHT at the heart from his world's Prowl and looks somewhat alarmed* VProwl *startles. what? what??? that's forward. how. what. huh.* Prowl *follows it up with a ping to the other Prowl indicating it was a joke* ItsyBitsySpyers *STARING AT HER AS SHE LEAVES* VProwl *IT'S A VERY CONFUSING JOKE THAT HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND.* *manages to get out a word that might be "evening," if we're interpreting the pronunciation very liberally* Prowl *will let you both figure that out* VProwl *did he just get flirted at* ItsyBitsySpyers *WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE SUCH PUNISHMENT. IT WAS UNINTENTIONAL. UNINTENTIONAL, DAMN IT!* VProwl *is fairly confident he did* Prowl *...no? yes... we just don't know* *she's gone either way* ItsyBitsySpyers *Turns to look at Prowl.* [[Did you switch frequencies with--?]] VProwl *Turns to look back at.* What? No, I haven't switched any frequencies. ... Has she ever asked about me? Or—said anything about me? ItsyBitsySpyers [[...About you? Why about you? He was going to ask if she ever-- why are /you/ asking that?]] VProwl ... Why are /you/ going to ask something? ItsyBitsySpyers [[She just sent him a <3 .]] *You'd think that would be a word, but no. It's an imagined image of bubbling hearts.* VProwl ... She sent /me/ one. And a humor ping. *slowly, with the sort of tone of baffled horror and borderline disbelief that would typically be reserved for questions about, for example, Megatron raising dread Cthulhu:* Are we... being flirted with? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Perhaps?]] *His lights dim, then return to their normal state briefly before dimming again.* [[He does not know if this is horrifying or fascinating.]] VProwl What—What's the next step? The ball's in our court. Do we—I don't know how things work in your universe, are we supposed to jump straight to proposing a threesome or are we supposed to go on a few dates first? I've never been on a three-person date in any other roll but the third wheel. ItsyBitsySpyers *Stares right at Prowl and sort of twirls a hand helpless-like.*

[[Do not look at him. There's almost never been more than one mech brave enough to be interested in him at a time.]] VProwl Well. Just your luck, you got duplicates. ItsyBitsySpyers [[At least he is no longer the only one to earn his alternate's interest.]] [[...It could be an Autobot plot. Dates first.]] ItsyBitsySpyers [[Many dates. With extensive interrogations.]] VProwl An Aut— If it was an Autobot plot, she wouldn't be putting her own body on the line. She'd send—I don't know—somebody broadly considered conventionally attractive. ... Like Skids. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Nonsense. She already begins at a disadvantage because of the war history. She can't hope to compete against what he's been told about that mech's learning abilities.]] VProwl Exactly. If she wanted to seduce us, she'd send him. He has a far, FAR better chance of success. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Too successful. He'd never look at her.]] VProwl Why would we need to look at her if Skids is playing the spy role? ItsyBitsySpyers *...Click.* [[Wait. Do you consider Skids attractive?]] VProwl ............ I /said/ he's broadly considered conventionally attractive. You said she wouldn't hope to compete with him, do YOU? ItsyBitsySpyers *Hears ALL that hesitation. Lifts a finger and gently shakes it at Prowl. In a caught-you way, not an angry way.*

[[You could have left it at [][][]broadly considered conventionally attractive.[][][] He would have understood. And you said you didn't know, but you did know.]] ItsyBitsySpyers [[He reserves the right to find the idea of great intelligence appealing. Especially when it isn't tied to a mech he dislikes, like Rewind.]] VProwl I /don't/ know, I'm just—guessing. I'm giving an example of who /I'd/ send on a—a seduction mission. *huffs. behold: the rare flustered Prowl.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Rather a roundabout way of having him ask you out, isn't it?]] *Light shoulder shaking.* VProwl *snaps up straight.* I would NEVER abuse my rank like that. *don't be fooled: the defensiveness is less about the implied rank abuse and more about the needling about Skids.* *also: failed to deny that he might want to be asked out.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave leans back and lifts the hand he was waggling a little bit ago, palm out, in a peaceful gesture.*

[[He apologizes. He thought you understood he would never think so poorly of you in reality. Besides, he's now admitted to being intrigued by the intellects of two other Autobots. It seemed even.]] [[If he has offended you, he is sorry.]] VProwl *grumble. once he gets the grumbling out of his system it'll be fine.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Lets the palm fall to his lap and vents quietly. Well. That put a bit of a damper on things. Note to himself: Prowl's refusal to speak of who he finds attractive extends to those with whom he's already involved.* VProwl *in Skids's case, it's a matter of protectiveness.* ... So. Hhhow do we proceed. ItsyBitsySpyers *Oh?* Yesterday VProwl Dates, then...? ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Seeing as it is impossible to know how long the access point between timelines will remain open, it is probably a good idea to avoid the Petrex way, even if that is where you are from. And he does not think he should be the one to suggest them. It - might not go as well. Old resentments.]]

[[You responded well to bluntness. He expects she will too.]] ItsyBitsySpyers *When a spy that used to work for the enemy comes up to you and says, "Hey, would you like to go somewhere private with me, where nobody else could possibly interrupt us?" it just doesn't turn out okay.* VProwl I—don't remember the last time I ever asked someone out on a date that I wasn't already dating. Rank issues. *and socialization issues, but, eh.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[That is one good thing about the multiverse.]] *Thought in ALL seriousness.* [[Ranks and sides do not matter as much in a completely different universe.]]

[[It is simple enough. Approach, tell her the advance is accepted, and ask where she would like to proceed from there.]] [[Acknowledgment without having to make the first plans or decisions yourself.]] VProwl ... All right. Sounds simple enough. Hm. I'll report my progress to you later. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Thank you.]]

[[By the way, he accepts and is curious about your earlier displays of affection. Would you like to find other ways to show it before he leaves on vacation?]] VProwl *......... slides back onto Soundwave's lap.* Absolutely. ItsyBitsySpyers *Detaches his mask with one hand and offers Prowl a sharp, sharp smile.*

[[Excellent.]]

*The rest is for no optics but their own.*

[hunnybadgerv]

One Revolution | Dragon Age | Vir Tanadhal

Summary: A day in the life and travels of Cyna Mahariel, Warden of Ferelden.

a/n: Written for #Fictober. Day 02: Under the sun and moon.

Links to full text: AO3 | FFnet

One Revolution

-1-

The sun shone through the leaves of the canopy, playing across paper thin flower petals and beaming through leaves like stained glass. The twitter of birdsong from a dozen different species fluttered on the breeze like so many wing beats of the singers. The peaty scent of the forest floor, rotting leaves, new shoots of grass, and animal aromas welcomed each footstep that brought the warden and her associates deeper into the Brecilian Forest. If anything in Thedas could be called a sanctuary, for Cyna Mahariel, this was it—this kind of day, in this kind of place. Even the company could be deemed enjoyable.

Her muscles tensed when the sweet music that filled the air fell silent. She, too, froze, keen eyes darting about the clearing below.

At the jangle of Alistair’s armor, her hand shot out and struck his chest, stilling him and serving to halt the others as well. Then she felt it—the telltale twist in her gut. Darkspawn, she thought, casting a narrow-eyed glance at her fellow warden. The hint of a nod in his movement confirmed that he felt it as well.

The wardens knew they would be no hiding from the force. Wardens and darkspawn could feel one another’s presence. Sometimes it came as intuition, some thin thread pulling and guiding them toward one another. At others it felt like the way the ground would pull a falling body to the ground—inevitable, inescapable, palpable, and painful.

As the first screech rang out in the now still forest, a clatter echoed through the trees as several weapons were drawn. Alistair’s blade sang as he drew it from his sheath. The fistful of arrows whispered in comparison as Cyna pulled them from her quiver. Wynne’s staff cracked upon the ground as if it had found stone, lightning crackling across the clearing. Zevran, in contrast to them all, made nary a peep; his daggers were in hand and his footsteps carried him across the overgrown path in utter silence.

The string of her bow rebounded with each heartbeat as she and Wynne tried to control the mob of darkspawn from above. Alistair and Zevran set themselves at the foot of the path to deal with any creatures that might seek to approach the snipers from that direction.

A new sound shook the trees. Pounding steps thudded through the forest, approaching their position.

“Maker, what is that?” Alistair shouted.

Cyna made no reply. There were darkspawn in her sights to deal with. She couldn’t spare the thought for what approached as they still pushed forward. The last one fell not to her arrow, but to a dagger thrown by a smirking elf.

“Warden,” Wynne said in her calm tone, though worry wilted the edges of it.

The Dalish elf’s eyes skimmed the perimeter, her stomach twisting with every heavy footstep. Trees whined and cracked under the beast’s approach. She knew it could only be one thing. “Ogre,” she warned.

A great purplish-gray hand grasped the thick trunk of a tree and pushed it aside. It’s roots pulling from the ground filling the air with the scent of fresh turned earth, which mixed almost sickeningly with the rusty smell of blood and foul of death.

“Alistair,” Cyna yelled. “Keep its attention.”

“What?” he squawked back.

“Just keep it focused on you.” She drew another fistful of arrows, glancing down to take a quick inventory. Yes, should be fine, she thought. “But don’t let it hit you.” They both knew one good swipe from the ogre’s long, meaty arms could leave Alistair out of commission for days. And that would not do them any good.

Alistair muttered something Cyna couldn’t decipher at this distance. She took aim, waiting for her fellow warden to enter the fray.

“Here, allow me, friend.” Zevran’s voice carried to her ears. As soon as the knife left his hands, the rogue all but vanished in a distracting flash that was followed by smoke. A distraction.

The blade sank into the soft neck of the ogre. Behind the massive darkspawn, others peeked out, adding their screeches to the cacophonous roar that pained her ears. The beast turned its face right toward Alistair, as had been intended. As it batted at the stinging bite upon its neck, the warrior dashed across the open expanse of delicate grasses and bashed its knee with his shield while taking a swipe at its Achille’s tendon with his sword. It barely broke the skin, which left Cyna free to target softer areas—once the other darkspawn were dealt with.

“Take out the smaller ones first,” Cyna told Wynne. “But keep your eye on Alistair.”

Zevran knew battlefields better than all of them perhaps. Throwing daggers buzzed through the air, and he moved with the skill and ease of a dancer on a stage. Though his dance was one of poison, blood, and gore. The screams his performance earned were not all adoration and praise, but the cries of the dying, of the failed.

Wynne’s hands wove with her staff, warding Alistair as the ogre reared back a heavy hand. When it swung at him, the young warden showed great skill and deftness of movement. He dodged out of the way, with a careful roll that brought him back to his feet. He made another swing at the heavy hide of the creature, shouting all the while to keep its focus on him rather than the archer or the assassin felling its comrades.

The din of dented metal, pulled Cyna’s attention back to the ogre as Alistair tumbled through the grass and against the trunk of a tree.

“I’m all right,” he called with a cough as he struggled to stand.

Wynne responded quickly. A swirl of white, like an ethereal spirit swirled around the warden, giving him a second wind.

“Try that again,” he challenged, bashing his shield with pommel of his sword. His battle cry curved Cyna’s mouth into a smile as he dashed at the creature again, dodging another punch meant to wind and wound him.

Taking aim at a hurlock at the edge of the forest, Cyna fired another shot that snag across the battlefield. Her arrow sank home into one eye socket as Zevran leapt from the bushes—both his daggers drove home into the beast’s back, crumpling it to the ground. The Antivan even found a moment to give Cyna a wink before darting off for the brute that now found itself alone.

The wardens and their compatriots managed to down the beast, though not without injury of their own. Of course, from Cyna’s perspective the injury to the forest was far greater. The lush green grasses which met darkspawn blood faded as if the life had been ravaged from them. Great black puddles of it oozed back into the earth, seemingly sucking every iota of life there.

The trees upended by the ogre’s trek through the forest and those he’d tossed at his attackers in desperation lay strewn about the clearing and along the path the darkspawn took from the cave they spilled from. While Wynne insisted upon treating contusions immediately, Cyna’s eyes surveyed the damage to the wilderness. It made her heart ache, made her wish to never visit here again if it could keep the darkspawn far from places like this. Of course, in the deepest reaches of her soul, she knew that wouldn’t help. They’d find their way to places like this whether a warden’s blood drew them or not.

 -2-

After dinner, thankfully Cyna’s night to prepare, the warden’s companions decompressed from the battles of the day. Each eventually traded the comradery of the fireside for the comfort of their tents and bedrolls, such as it was.

Finding herself alone, the warden leaned against a sizeable boulder, which allowed her to recline enough to peek at the bright stars glittering just beyond the breaks in the canopy. The Brecilian Forest felt so familiar and foreign at the same time. The calls of insects, the snap of twigs under the feet of scurrying nocturnal gatherers, the occasional hoot of an owl letting all around know it was awake and ready for a night’s hunt—all these sounds, familiar to her ear were a welcome change to the chatter and bustle of the towns.

One could find calm in these woods, a calm she never seemed to find in Denerim or even Redcliffe. Something rustled to her left, the smell of leather and spices made her lips curl upward.

“Zevran,” she said quietly in greeting.

“What are we doing, my dear warden?” he asked in that lilting tone of his. She could almost see the licentious twist of his mouth when he called her warden.

“Listening, my talented rogue.”

There was a gentle hum added to the sounds of the night, his content hum. He liked being appreciated for any and all of his talents. “Are we … listening for something in particular?”

Cyna’s chin dipped and she turned to find his gaze upon her, though that wasn’t a surprise. “Everything,” she said with a smile.

“Oh.” They stared at one another. Then his smile broadened. “That is quite the endeavor. Should I keep a list for us?”

Her serious countenance faded, a smile breaking the serious facade and showing off her teeth. “I don’t think we have the ink for that,” she said with a chuckle in her tone. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “Even after that backhand from the ogre?”

“Ah, that was nothing,” he said, waving away the thought.

Despite her feelings on the matter, she let it go at that, choosing not to push. If he said he was fine, she would take his word at face value. After all, she’d come to trust Zevran with more than her life. She now trusted him with her friends’ lives, and even with some of her secrets. She leaned back against the rock, finding the stars once more. Her hand swept the tufts of the short grasses, letting them tickle her palm, until her fingers found something warm and surprisingly smooth. When her hand rested atop his, another soft hum joined the sounds of the night in the forest.

“Is this much like the places you grew up?” he asked, his voice quiet and serious.

“Yes. In fact, we were not far from here where … I was conscripted.” Cyna did not expound on that event, and Zevran did not push. He knew she preferred not to talk about it.

“Is this the only forest you’ve visited?”

Cyna’s laugh was warm and quiet, not wanting to disturb any of the wildlife that might be creeping close to the camp. “Far from it. Though he had visited this particular wood several times. I felt I knew it well, but I realize now that even the places you know can harbor dark secrets—some of which are best left untouched.”

His hand turned beneath hers and laced their fingers. “My dear warden that is true of every place—wild or civilized. It can be true of people as well.”

Her vibrant green gaze found his warm eyes again. She could only guess that he meant himself, though the statement aptly applied to both of them in equal measure. The shift in her body went almost unnoticed, until she closed the distance between them. As her hand brushed at a hint of bare skin at the open neck of his blouse, his hand skimmed her cheek, encouraging the move she’d started to make; perhaps even silently praying she wouldn’t pull away in better judgement.

When her lips brushed his, Zevran’s fingers dipped into her inky, black hair, fastening them in the silken strand of night to keep her close. The soft peck deepened quickly, as their kisses were apt to do. Their clasped hands released finally, but only once she’d invaded his lap, which made him chuckle.

“I thought it was our watch,” Zevran teased, letting out a low moan when Cyna nipped his neck.

“You are,” she replied, gliding the tip of her nose along his skin until she could look into his warm, golden eyes once more. “But if you cannot maintain your keen senses amidst the distraction of a mere woman …?”

Zevran’s hearty chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating down her spine. “You, Cyna Mahariel, are no mere anything,” he told her, pulling her lips back toward his. “But if you wish me to prove my self-control. I will make myself a model of it, but only for you.”

Cyna smiled and kissed him once more as his arms wrapped around her waist. She had no doubt that he’d prove himself. Zevran always did show her the best of himself, even when it wasn’t evident to everyone else.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Playtime - Straw

To the casual observer, Mr and Mrs Gold are a perfectly sedate couple. No-one would ever guess just how much they enjoy their little roleplay sessions… Non-Magic AU, pure PWP, just a series of sexy roleplay scenarios that Belle and Gold enjoy

[Read previous Playtime chapters here on AO3.]

Rated: NC-17

=====

Part Twenty-Five - Straw (stableboy/princess - Belle’s pick)

This is an amalgamation of three different prompts from @anneelliotscat, @ripperblackstaff and @anonymousnerdgirl​, which were, respectively, contessa/stableboy, spinner/princess and virgin milkmaid/well-hung stableboy which I think was a joke. Enjoy!

=====

Straw

If Gold is alarmed when Belle bursts into a fit of giggles for seemingly no reason, then he tries not to show it. He’s just entered the living room having put Gideon down for the night and found Belle curled up in her favourite chair with a paperback open on her knees, bent double with laughter.

“I’m going to assume that there’s a reason for the hilarity,” he says, settling himself on the sofa with an amused expression, and it takes Belle several moments to compose herself enough to reply beyond an enthusiastic nod.

“It’s this book,” she says at last, holding it up so that Gold can see the cover, depicting a typical romance novel image of a shirtless man and a woman in a white nightie that can almost be described as covering her, locked in a passionate embrace. He reads the title -The Virgin Milkmaid and the Well-Hung Stableboy – and raises an eyebrow. It’s not exactly Belle’s usual fare.

“Right.” He pauses, still a little perplexed. “I don’t think it’s meant to be a comedy.”

Belle shakes her head. “No, it’s not. It’s just the quality of the writing. I’ve been so tired with Gideon lately that this is about all I can cope with on an intellectually challenging level, but I’m beginning to think that perhaps it’s time for me to move on to something new. Listen to this.”

She clears her throat and begins to read from the page in front of her.

“Anna felt a warmth rising in her most secret parts as her eyes roamed hungrily over George’s body, lingering on the thick stick of flesh that dangled between his legs like a lovely cucumber.”

Gold snorts at the innovative euphemism. “Really?”

Belle nods. “That’s not even the best part. How about this? Anna felt his love wand impale her hot core, filling her with his manliness.”

“That just sounds painful.” Gold winces at the thought.

“Especially when you consider that Anna’s the virgin milkmaid and George has what appears to be a sixteen-inch penis from various descriptions.” She flicks back through the book. “Yes, it says here that his dick is longer than some of the horses. Poor Anna. She won’t be able to sit down for a week after that. Oh, here’s a good bit: Anna blushed furiously as she lifted her skirt and petticoats to reveal that she was not wearing anything beneath except a tuft of dark blonde hair that George wanted to brush and plait like the horses’ tails. I know I haven’t trimmed down there for a whole but I don’t think it’s long enough to style.”

Belle closes the book and Gold notices the little wriggle she gives in the chair, a wiggle of a body a little bit aroused by what she’s been reading despite how poor the writing is. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk spreading over his face.

“You know, for all its strange word choice, there’s something a bit inspiring about it,” he says as nonchalantly as he can.

“Yes.” Belle puts the book on the side. “I do know what you mean. A bed of straw, the sound and smell of the horses tramping in their stalls. Petticoats bunched up and heaving bosoms in corsetry with nipples just peeping out. Leather trousers that leave nothing to the imagination.”

“Whilst I make no claims about the size of my penis, I think you’ll be disappointed if you’re expecting a well-hung stableboy. I don’t think a sixteen-inch cock is physically possible.”

“You’d certainly get dizzy every time you got an erection,” Belle agrees, matter of fact. “Also, if you’re expecting a virgin milkmaid with… hang on…” She flicks through the book. “Breasts like melons, but softer, squishier. Melons that were past their best, not hard.” They break off to laugh at the description. “I think that ship has sailed,” Belle says eventually. “But there might be something to be salvaged from it after all. Sixteen inches might not be possible but I’d never deny that you were certainly well-hung.”

Gold snorts. “Well, your breasts might not be mouldy melons but I think that’s a good thing, all things considered.” He pauses. “A rebellious contessa and a stableboy with slightly more believable groinial dimensions?” he suggests. Belle nods and comes over to the sofa, perching beside him and leaning in, pushing him back so he’s almost flat on the cushions.

“Or perhaps,” she purrs, “the very naughty princess and the stableboy with a secret.”

“What kind of secret?” Gold asks, his voice throaty.

“He’s a master spinner by night,” Belle purrs, and Gold gulps, thinking of his wheel in the basement, untouched in a long time. “And he knows the secret of spinning straw into gold.”

“If that’s the case, what’s he doing being a stableboy in the princess’s castle?” Gold asks, although his pulse is already quickening at the thought of a delicious new playtime scenario for them to try out.

“Well, he’s in love with the very naughty princess, you see,” Belle continues, dancing her fingers up his chest and neck to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “And he’s trying to spin enough gold to go away and restyle himself as a prince so that he can return and marry the princess.”

“And what does the princess have to say about that?” Gold replies, his voice a whisper. Belle grins and leans in to breathe in his ear.

“Why don’t you meet me downstairs in ten minutes and find out for yourself?”

Gold nods eagerly and makes his way down to the basement as Belle goes upstairs to get ready. He puts the baby monitor down on the side and rubs his hands together. It’s cooler down here, and goose pimples break out on his skin as he rolls his sleeves up and sets about making the place look slightly more thematic.

The wheel is the main feature of the dimly lit room, the rest being given over to storage, but he’s in luck; some of the old packing crates that his antiques are shipped to and from auction in contain clean packing straw and he dumps some of that onto the floor. It’s about as close to a stable as they’re going to get but they’ve both got good imaginations, and he sits down at the wheel, giving it a pull. Spinning is something that’s always been a constant for him, a link back to his childhood. He grabs a handful of spare roving and begins to spin as he waits for Belle, losing himself in the motion of the wheel.

“I love watching you spin.”

He turns to see Belle on the basement steps, dressed in a long white nightgown with a shawl around her shoulders. He can see that she too is affected by the dropped temperature in the room, her nipples proud points against the thin fabric. As she takes the final couple of steps down into the basement, one of the straps comes loose, falling off her shoulder and almost exposing her breast.

“Your highness,” Gold says, and he doesn’t even try to hide the desire in his voice or the bulge beginning to stir in his trousers. “You shouldn’t be wandering around the stables in the middle of the night. Anything might happen.”

“Hmm. That’s what I’m counting on,” she says. “A little bit of excitement and adventure.” She picks up a piece of straw from the heap on the floor and twirls it between her fingers as she comes over to him. “It gets so boring in the castle, you know. I wish something would happen.” She brushes the straw gently over her bare décolletage and Gold swallows hard at the sight. “I wish you’d take me away from here.” She sits on the spinning wheel bench beside him and touches the straw to his nose. “You must have spun enough gold by now, my Rumpelstiltskin. We could ride away into the sunrise and live happily ever after.”

“We could. But you’re a princess, and I’m no prince.”

“Who needs princes?” Belle asks airily. The shawl slides down her shoulders and slithers onto the floor, and her other nightgown strap falls. She’s so very nearly exposed, just a breath would be enough to send the garment tumbling. “All I need is you.”

There’s a long pause, full of promise and screaming of sex, and Belle traces the straw over her skin again, dancing it across her bare shoulders and throat. “You spend so much time in here spinning by yourself,” she purrs. “Don’t you ever get lonely without the friendly touch of another human being?”

“Sometimes,” Gold admits. “The nights are very long and the horses don’t talk much.”

Belle turns the straw to his skin, starting at his nose and running it down his cheek and neck, to the open collar of his shirt. She undoes a couple more buttons and continues her teasing journey.

“At least you’re always guaranteed plenty of straw for your spinning and other… distractions.”

“There are softer things than straw to distract me, your highness,” Gold replies, and he takes a wisp of roving between his fingers, using it to map over her skin and mimicking the patterns she used on him. Belle gives a low hum of appreciation, leaning into his touch, revelling in the different textures of his fingers and the wool sweeping over her shoulders and chest, and her eyes flutter closed as he works his way lower towards the edge of her nightdress where it hangs precariously over her breasts. For a moment he considers twitching it to make it fall, but he refrains.�� It’s been a while since they had such a slow, drawn-out and sensuous encounter. By necessity due to Gideon they’re usually quick, if they play at all. Gold doesn’t mind the reduction in their playtime. It makes the moments like these when they can indulge all the sweeter. Belle stays his hand, plucking the roving from his fingers and repeating his ministrations on his own skin, opening another couple of shirt buttons as she goes. Soon the thing is undone to his navel and he wastes no time in divesting himself of it fully. The cool air in the basement pricks his skin and chills him, and Belle smiles, touching the wool over the newly-exposed skin and rubbing gently over his nipples as they tighten.

“Do you love me, my Rumpelstiltskin?” she asks, voice low and husky.

“I love you with all my heart, your highness.”

“Will you kiss me, then?”

“With pleasure.”

She slides closer on the bench and presses her lips to his, and in the next few minutes, Gold forgets his role and the spinning wheel and the ridiculous Harlequin novel that led to this wonderful encounter, just kissing his wife until he’s senseless, enjoying every moment of it. Her arms come around him, hands splaying over his bare back and nails scraping at his skin. When she finally breaks away there’s a little smile on her face, one that would have been shy and innocent if not for the lusty look in her eyes.

Belle bends to retrieve the shawl and her nightdress continues its descent, her full breasts coming free, dusky nipples standing proud of the soft mounds and begging to be touched and kissed. Belle follows his gaze and bites her lower lip, gathering the shawl to her chest and covering herself again. “Oops.”

The silence in the room is heavy, tense, and Gold’s trousers are becoming painful as Belle carefully lets some of the folds of the shawl drop down in front of her before she slips her arms out of the fallen straps and lets the dress slide down to her ankles. The shawl is still covering her, a scrap of fine wool clutched to her chest and hanging between her legs, and she cups her sex through the cloth, pressing her naked thighs together in a show of faux chastity.

“Do you want me, my Rumpelstiltskin?” she asks. “Do you… desire me, like this?”

“Oh, very much so, your highness,” Gold breathes, and he can feel his cock throbbing painfully in his trousers with the want of her, straining against the zipper. He presses a palm against his crotch, trying to alleviate some of the pressure and draw out their playtime for as long as he can whilst they have the opportunity to do so. He glances over at the baby monitor on the side but for the moment it is blessedly quiet, and Belle worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I desire you,” she says. “But I will admit to being somewhat nervous. You see, I’ve never been with a man before. My mother always told me to keep myself pure for my wedding night and the prince who would take my maidenhood, but I don’t think that I want to have it taken. I think I would rather give it freely. To you.”

She lets the shawl drop from her breasts as she straddles the spinning wheel bench, scooting a little bit closer so that she’s almost pressed up against him, and Gold reaches out to cup her breasts, massaging them gently and reverently, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples and making her moan with arousal as they pebble under his touch. He bends to kiss them and the hand not protecting her modesty down below cards into his hair, keeping his tongue flickering over her pert little buds.

“I’m honoured to be given such a wonderful gift,” he murmurs from her décolletage as he trails his lips along the path that the straw and the wool had taken before, tasting every inch of her.

“You deserve it, my Rumpel,” Belle breathes. “But I’ve heard these tales of your manhood and… prowess.”

“Well-hung stableboy,” Gold mumbles in her ear and she gives a giggling snort before biting down on her finger to compose herself.

“Maybe I could see the size of your…”

“If you say cucumber I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“Would you prefer love wand?” Belle raises a cheeky eyebrow, challenging him, and for a moment they just stare each other out, grinning and each daring the other to break away and laugh first. Belle loses the battle, hiding her silent giggles in her hand.

“Just let me see your manhood for myself,” she says eventually, and Gold acquiesces, shimmying out of his trousers and underwear. His aching cock is grateful for the freedom and as he turns back to face Belle, it bobs eagerly in front of him, waiting for attention. Belle reaches out and touches his tip where it’s red and ready, a bead of pearly precum already forming at the slit.

“You’re very impressive,” she says, with genuine wonder in her voice. “Not too intimidating, but you’re definitely… endowed.”

There’s another round of snorts and laughter for a moment, and Belle curls her fingers around his shaft, stroking up and down and running her fingertips over the silky head of him. Gold reaches out and closes his hand over the one still holding the shawl against her sex.

“May I see your own secret place now?” he asks, his voice throaty and growling, and Belle nods, spreading her legs wider and letting the shawl drop. Her nether lips are plump and pink and already shining with arousal, and she’s left a wet patch on the delicate wool. Even though he’s seen Belle naked so many times before, her beauty never fails to make his jaw drop and his entire body thrum with need for her, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing her stripped to skin all over again.

Gold combs his fingers through her fluffy curls and slides the middle digit into her cleft, seeking out her clit and enjoying the heady groan she gives when he finds it, the hard pearl swelling under his touch and peeping out from its hiding place. He rubs along her folds, coating her with her juices until his fingers glide so easily across her slippery, sensitive skin and she’s wriggling on the bench, desperate for more.

“Yes,” she moans. “Yes, yes. Take me, my Rumpel.”

Gold hitches her up so that she’s sitting on his lap and she curls her arms around his neck and her legs around his back, going in for a long, deep, sensual kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth anew. Gold snakes one hand down between their bodies as the other grabs the bench behind him for support and leverage, and he finds her clit again, circling his fingers around it.

“Take me,” Belle breathes in his ear, her voice needy. “I want to feel you inside me.”

They don’t have an awful lot of manoeuvrability, sitting on the bench as they are, and Gold scoots back on the bench as far as he can and lays her back against it, gathering up their discarded clothes for a pillow. They could just move to the floor, but it would be hard and cold and uncomfortable, and at least the wooden bench is warm from their bodies. Belle keeps her legs crossed around his hips, and her hot, silky channel is tight around him as he sinks into her, his hands on her hips to anchor him as he begins to move, hips snapping forward to bury his cock deep inside her. Belle moans, her own pelvis rolling and wriggling to meet his thrusts, her inner walls squeezing experimentally.

“Pelvis floor exercises,” she mutters. “Good for some things after all.”

Gold throws his head back, continuing to move in her erratically as he nears his climax, and he reaches down into her slit to rub her above where they’re joined, determined for her to reach that peak with him. She gives a long, low cry of joy as she does come, her inner walls snug around him and wringing his own orgasm hot on the trail of her own, and he gives a yelp of her name. It’s good to be vocal with no chance of waking Gideon.

They come back down from the high in stillness and quiet, just the sounds of their panting and the creaking of the spinning wheel beside them, and Belle pulls herself upright, clamping her arms and legs back around Gold and not letting go, even as he begins to soften and shrink inside her, and she buries her face in his neck.

“Perfect,” she mumbles. “Far better than any romance novel.”

“I think you ought to write your own,” Gold says, punctuating his words with little kisses across her shoulders. “It would be a bestseller. Who knows how many people you could inspire in their own bedrooms?”

Belle smiles against his skin, her eyes closed, and Gold is so content just to hold her close like this. Eventually though the cool air in the basement gets the better of them and they break apart, getting dressed and moving back up through the house towards their bedroom. Gideon is beginning to stir, they can hear him snuffing and squeaking in the nursery as they pass, and Belle goes in to feed him. Gold hovers in the doorway, watching Gideon suckle greedily, Belle sitting in the rocking chair cooing to him gently. She catches his eye and smiles, and Gold smiles back. So their encounters are fewer now, but even though Belle is no virginial milkmaid and he is no well-hung stableboy, they can still spin their own kind of very enjoyable magic.

As he wanders back to their bedroom, he seriously considers raiding the rest of Belle’s romance collection for ideas…

[lupin-bun]

A Wing and a Prayer - Chapter 6 (A Yondu fic)

A/N: Ready for things to get kicked up a notch?

Yondu/El (Yondu/OC)

Warnings: None (??? Let me know if I’m wrong)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

***

It had fallen on Io, yet again, to keep watch over El while Yondu, Kraglin and a handful of others went to see the Collector. They'd gone down onto Knowhere's surface in their M-ships while El was confined to quarters on the Eclector.

“Io!” El called through the door. “You there? I need you.”

“I'm here.” came Io's reply. “What are you after this time? Another glass of water? You should have known I wouldn't leave this door unattended. Sneaking underneath it was a clever idea, I grant you, but it's not going to work, Miss El. ...Miss El?”

But El was no longer in her room. There was a tiny, rusted hole in the top right corner of the room where the leak had got in and it was out of this that El the mouse had made her escape. She'd initially tried wriggling under the door as a bug but had come face to face with young Ribblin who wasted no time in scooping her up and tossing her back into the room. Staying as a bug, she'd searched every inch of the tiny room and had eventually found a weakened, rusted patch. She'd figured out how much Io liked to talk, especially when he was smug about something, and his little monologue had been all she needed to cover up the sound of little mouse jaws gnawing as she worked her way through the thin, crumbling steel, making it large enough to wiggle through.

And now she was scurrying, hell-for-leather, through the metal wall supports of the ship. She could hear the alert go up and the rest of the crew scrambling to search for the ping-pong ball sized escapee. El laughed, squeakily, to herself as she ran, occasionally stopping to peep through holes, vents or floor grating. They were going to have one hell of a time finding her in all this.

“SOMEONE CONTACT THE CAPTAIN!!” screamed one of the crew, thundering past El's hiding spot.

“He'll have landed and be on his way to the collector by now! The only communication screen is in his ship, idiot!” came another voice.

Although it was easy for her to hide, El realised, fairly soon, that staying as a mouse had its disadvantages. Being this size meant her legs were tiny and she was wearing herself out with all this running. She'd have to shift to something a little bigger to cover more ground. But that meant not staying in the hidden parts of the ship. She'd have to be very careful. Finding a deserted corridor, she crept out and, with a flash, was off running again. Long legs moved smoothly underneath her as she ran, full-tilt, in search of the M-ship hanger. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional click of her claws and a soft panting as she cleared whole corridors in seconds. It was much easier to move as a greyhound. She ran down corridor after passage after air shaft, stopping every so often to swivel her ears and listen for any approaching crew.

Moving as fast as she was, she soon found the M-ship hanger on a lower deck and stopped a moment to catch her breath, her thin ribcage expanding and suppressing rapidly with her deep panting. She looked through the grubby glass of the large window in the corridor. Not many of the crew had left so there were many ships still docked, all ready for the taking. All of them seemed to be various colours and had different names, although they were all completely illegible from up here.

As she was looking, there was the sudden clang of a footfall at the end of the corridor. El's head snapped round to see a heavy-set crew member with blonde hair standing there, looking at her in confusion. It took him a moment to realise that the dog he was seeing was El and simply stood there staring. El wasted no time in turning tail and bolting down the corridor to the airlock door, behind which were the steps down onto the landing gantry.

“Hey! HEY! STOP!! SHE'S HERE!!” yelled the crew member behind her. There was the far away thunder of footsteps which grew louder as El ran.

El sprinted down the steps with the growing noises of the crew behind her and, with a flash, was back to normal when she reached the nearest M-ship. She thumped the button next to the hatch and the hatch opened with a whirring clunk. She looked back over her shoulder with a smirk. The crew were halfway down the steps but stopped dead at the sight of that sinister smile full of fangs.

“You lot had best get back to that airlock door. It's about to get kind of hard to breathe in here.” She called, and hopped on board the ship.

With a panicked scuffling, the crew all back-tracked and tumbled through the airlock door, closing it swiftly behind them. And they could only watch in vain as the M-ship fired up, the bay door was opened via on-board controls, and the ship plunged out of sight into the emptiness of space beyond.

“Shit.” Said Ribblin, summing up the feelings of every crew member present.

***

Yondu marched determinedly into the Collector's personal little museum, not asking to be let in. He pushed past the pink-skinned servant as she tried to stop him.

“Sir! My master is not expecting you! You can't just invite yourself in! Sir!!” she called, with absolutely no effect.

There was a soft chuckling from the depths of the Collector's cave of wonders.

“Now now.” said a smooth voice. “Mr Udonta was never one for pleasantries. Were you, Yondu?”

Yondu came to a stop and stood, legs apart, hands on hips, looking at the white fur-coated back of the Collector.

“S'right.” He said, simply. “Been a while, Tivan.”

The Collector chuckled again and turned slowly to face his unannounced visitors.

“Taneleer. Please.” He purred. “What do you have for me this time? Another trinket you swindled off that poor Broker on Xandar? I'm surprised he keeps hiring you.” Taneleer smirked as he picked up a gem-like object off the table he was standing by and turned it over in his hands, examining it, not seeming to be paying much attention to Yondu.

“Not so much hirin'.” Kraglin said. “More like he don't have a choice but tell us what he's huntin' for if he wants to keep his head intact.”

Yondu smirked and touched his Yaka arrow lightly through his long coat.

Taneleer sniffed oddly, which might have been a snort of laughter, but his face was too stony to be sure.

“Elegant,” he remarked, sarcastically. He turned and saw the red-headed crew member prodding a tank containing a strange, eight-legged creature with a long tail and, seemingly, no eyes. The creature lunged at the glass, a long, fleshy proboscis extending from its underside to bump, harmlessly on the tank wall.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't disturb the facehugger, Mr...?”

“Skane.” the redhead replied. “What es this thing?” he asked, looking back at the weird, leathery spider creature, which was still attempting to reach him with its proboscis.

Taneleer grinned and swept grandly over to the tank. Yondu rolled his eyes. Taneleer never passed up an opportunity to show off his knowledge.

“As far as I can tell,” Taneleer began “it's the reproductive organ responsible for the process, or rather...” he glanced at Skane, thoughtfully, “one half of the reproductive process of a much larger creature. A creature I do not currently possess... sadly.” He looked at Skane again, who was, luckily, still distracted by the facehugger.

“So..” Skane said, slowly, “basically, I'm looken at a dick right now? Es that what you're sayen?”

Taneleer gave a chuckle and crossed his arms, looking at the facehugger with amusement.

“Yes. I suppose I am.” He smiled widely (and, no doubt, falsely) at Skane and walked back to the rest of the group and stepped up close to Yondu. “Would you be willing to sell me a member of your crew? Hypothetically of course?” he murmured to Yondu.

Yondu looked at him incredulously.

“No. Yah outta yer damn mind?!” he exclaimed, not bothering with the same low volume that Taneleer had. Taneleer merely shrugged.

“Do let me know if you ever...” he looked over Yondu's shoulder and frowned in confusion. “...change your mind.” he finished.

Yondu turned to see what it was he was looking at... and felt his stomach drop. Sitting behind him, looking as smug as a dog can, was El.

“What... is that?” Taneleer asked, not taking his eyes off her.

Shit! Shit shit shit, thought Yondu. What the hell was she doing here?!

“S'jus' a pet I picked up on Terra.” Yondu shrugged, trying to come across as nonchalant as he could. “Ain't dangerous. But she's a bad girl fer comin' in here!” With that stinging emphasis, he stared, furiously at El who merely sat, looking at Taneleer, paying Yondu no attention whatsoever.

[rallis-fatalis]

Demons’ Dance

Rallis had had enough of the senseless violence and unwarranted murder. Her friends, her family, her adopted children, all had their share of tragedy by slayers' hands. It was time to end it. The world of monsters needed to be safe again, and for that to happen, someone needed to die.

It was completely dark out, even the moon itself hid behind the shadows, only the smallest sliver of a wicked grin peeking through the night time clouds. The world was as quiet as it was dark, not a single peep breaking the silence. Only the sound of flowing water crashing down a fall in the distance could be heard. That and something small and fast sneaking through the jungly undergrowth near Shilo Village, trying its best to remain undetected. Every rustle of leaves, skittering over fences, and step on creaking wooden floors sounded horribly loud, as if you could hear it continents over. The small something hid well in the black of night, shadowy scaly attire blending it right in with the fuligin background. It made its way up to a bridge hanging over a river, upper floors of two buildings holding it aloft. It cautiously took a step onto the swaying bridge, on high alert for the monster it was looking for that could be around any corner.

Something whizzed through the air and thudded into a wooden post hard, narrowly missing the shadowy figure who had slid out of the way in the nick of time. Embedded in the post was a dart and it reeked of poison. Another figure scoffed in the darkness and made themselves known, stepping into the barest shine of moonlight. It was a tall muscular man, face marked with menacing red tattoos that glowed like a second set of eyes in the darkness. Monstrous red claws of orichalcum covered his hands, marking him as the beast he truly was. "Faster than I thought you'd be," he addressed the shadows.

Emerging from the darkness like smoke was a dragon, covered in form-fitting black scaly attire that concealed her in the shadows of night. Her normally blue face and tail were covered in black smears, some kind of paint to help keep her hidden. The moonlight bounced off her claws, shimmering like expertly sharpened sickles.

"I knew you were a lowly beast," the man continued. "But I thought you had at least a bit more honor than to assassinate someone while they were asleep, Rallis."

The dragon hissed. "Your kind does the same to mine. Maybe I wanted you to feel what it's like to have your life taken away from you with no warning like my friends have, Duradel."

The very sight of the man made her blood boil. Ever since she had first met him, she hated him with every fiber of her being. He was ruthless and cruel and killed creatures without regard. Now after countless months of the slayer master sending his students out to kill her friends, one of which orphaned the seven children she now raised as her own, Rallis had had enough. Her unbridled fury would only be satiated with his death.

Duradel backed away, drawing Rallis closer. The two now stood at opposite ends of the swaying rope bridge, swishing along to the sound of the flowing river below. "Quite the intimidating message you sent me, I must say! 'Your tyranny stops today! You and your slayers will face my judgement!' And heralded by one of my students you maimed so horribly he could never fight again, no less. I didn't know you were into such theatrics."

"It's your final warning. Some of your slayers actually have a brain unlike you. They've listened to my message and left, never to return to the life of a murderer."

"Then I assure you they were not mine," he snorted. "I don't train children who wet their pants at the sight of a scrawny blue lizard." Rallis hissed at the insult. "Maybe they belonged to my pupil, or that snobby rich woman who would rather drink with gnomes than fight, but I can assure you my slayers will still fight and fight and fight."

"Then maybe I'll just kill their master," she snarled.

He shook his head. "Oh Rallis, if you had even the slightest chance at killing me, I'm sure I would be dead by now. But as it stands, I'm very much here, and you're the one quaking in your boots trying to kill me in my sleep you're too scared to fight me. No, tonight you die, not me. I hope you've said your goodbyes because I intend to add another blue dragon to my kill count."

Rallis screeched and lunged forward, closing the gap in a split second. A lesser opponent would find themselves bleeding from the neck then and there, but Duradel was fast. He knew how to fight a monster or two, no matter how big or small. He predicted Rallis to immediately go for his throat, crossing his claws in front of him and catching Rallis on the mouth. She howled in rage as she bit down, unable to chew through the claws and earning herself a nasty gash across her snout and down her cheek from the corner of her mouth. Duradel leaned back and kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling on the bridge. She landed hunched and snarling on all fours like a wild animal.

Rallis zipped toward him, a blur of shadow against the darkness, and this time aimed for his leg. She didn't quite appreciate being kicked. Duradel leapt up, leaving Rallis to snap at air, and slammed down on her back. She huffed as he crushed her against the now wildly swaying bridge. With all her might, the dragon threw the man off and turned around to claw him, but he was already gone, striking up a stance at the end of the bridge and a safe distance from her. Rallis whined at how the fight was going. She wasn't used to fighting something so fast. Nothing out sped her!

"You're not very good at this, are you?" Duradel goaded. Rallis snarled and lunged at him again, only to be grabbed mid lunge and slammed into the bridge. Boards cracked under the force, driving wooden splinters into her back. "You're so predictable, lizard!" he growled and slashed at her. She held an arm up to guard her, red metal claws ripping through her sleeve and arm nearly to the bone. The force broke the floorboards even more, dragon now dangling over the river as she held onto the cracking bridge with one hand. Duradel smirked as he set to stomp down on her hand and throw her into the current, but just as soon as he thought of the plan, she was gone.

Like an acrobat, Rallis grabbed onto the ropes connecting the underside of the bridge, swung behind Duradel while out of sight, and launched herself over the woven handrail and back onto the topside of the bridge. The man had little time to dodge, only backing away a step with his left arm up to guard as Rallis opened wide to bite down, grabbing onto his arm and chomping down full force. Duradel choked down a cry as he felt her teeth snap bone. He may have taken a damaging blow, but now Rallis was wide open, and the strike he could retaliate with would be far more serious. Duradel roared as her brought his good arm down on her, raking his claws all the way from her left shoulder, down across her chest, and finishing with a flourish by her right side under her rib cage. Rallis let go of his arm in shock, staggering back as blood began to soak her shirt. Taking advantage of the situation, Duradel rammed into her chest full force, causing her to cough up blood and throw her over the side of the bridge and into the swift current below. He grit his teeth as he listened to the splash and watched her shadow disappear into the watery depths. He grabbed his broken arm and smiled. "Good riddance you filthy monster."

...

.....

........

The water crashed as Rallis broke the surface of the river, gasping for air. She managed a single blood choked breath before being yanked under the water once more. The water twisted and twirled her like a bratty child trying to destroy their newest toy, bashing her head against the rocks on the riverbed and slamming her full force into the hardy root-lined banks. Every chance she was graced with air she spent more time choking out blood and water than actually gaining anything to breathe with. She was lightheaded and freezing, the blood loss and ice cold water sapping her energy. She couldn't even think of fighting the currents to breach the surface.

With one final smack against a rock, Rallis found herself hurtling down a rapid frothing flow, the waterfall farther down river of Shilo. She hurtled down the fall and smacked against the water's surface, sinking beneath the tumbling water of the falls. The pain was too much, she couldn't even breathe anymore, going limp in the murky depths. The current brought her to the surface, carrying her along like a leaf, and deposited her on a low part of the bank. The water tugged at her tail, trying to carry along on another journey, but she didn't budge. Water and blood trickled out of her mouth slowly before rushing out as she hacked and coughed everything out of her lungs. With a final gurgling wad of blood, she gasped. Air never felt more wonderful yet painful. Every breath wracked her chest with pain, like nails were being hammered into her.

She tried to stand and carry herself out of the freezing water, but she hadn't the strength. She settled for crawling, gripping the grass and jungly undergrowth and pulling herself onto drier land. Her bloodied arm throbbed in protest, pain and crimson gushing out of the claw mark from the force of her pulling. Streaks of blood painted the grass as she dragged herself along, gasping in pain at every little movement. Trails of watery black trickled into her eyes, dragon hissing and shaking the dripping black face paint off. With one last pull forward, she collapsed a panting mess, blood beginning to trickle out of her mouth once more. Everything hurt. Her head and limbs from the bangs against the rocky riverbed, her arm from the slash from Duradel, her back from being stepped on, but her chest felt like it was being torn open and rifled through.

With a groan, she found the strength to lift herself from the ground and assess the damage. Her shirt was more a formality at this point, torn to shreds and hanging on by a thread. The demolished front crumbled away as she tugged at it. The moonlight illuminated the damage and she nearly passed out then and there from the sight. Her entire torso was red, blood painting every scale and dripping onto the ground beneath her. Bits of white poked through the red, glimpses of bone. The sight nearly made her retch, coughing up spit and blood as the pain rushed back tenfold. She shakily put a hand to her chest and gasped at how painful the simple touch was, collapsing back onto the grass and beginning to hyperventilate and panic. Everything hurt, she couldn't move, everything was too cold and painful and horrible. She didn't know what to do. She'd never been this hurt before. At least when the mourners attacked her, she passed out almost immediately and hardly felt a thing. But this? She felt everything, the blood pouring onto the grass under her, the bone scratching her claws as she gasped for breath, every bit of warmth leaving as the cold air and water worked against her. She felt herself dying. And she was scared out of her mind.

Her other hand shakily felt her pants pocket, trying to find the teleport tablet she brought with her for escape. No luck. It must have fallen out in the river. Her vision started to blur, tiredness and tears clouding her sight. She didn't want to fall asleep now, she was too scared. She didn't know if she would wake up afterward. And she had to wake up, she had to! She couldn't fall asleep, she had to stay awake, she had to... had to... not... sleep...

Rallis couldn't keep it up any longer. Her eyes fell shut against her will. She fell unconscious with tears trickling down her face, furious and heartbroken that she couldn't give her friends the revenge they deserved, and hoping her children weren't about to be orphaned again.