#I'm glad Alistair is up again

[pushing500]

The solar flare is over, and Alistair is back on his feet. To celebrate, I let him have a moment to drink some of the soda we've been saving for the guests, and Kwahu stopped making wort to join him for lunch. It was very sweet.

I hope Al wakes up soon T.T

I think Jut likes our pet cows, Georgia and Cowgirl. And I think Kwahu is really getting the hang of this social thing!! That's the second conversion he's managed in a week. Good job, Kwahu!

As long as you don't touch the coffee plants, Randy, we're all good. The Jones boys just make beer to sell in the bar at their hotel anyway.

While everyone else was busy cutting blighted plants, Ivy drew her own miniature psychic ritual spot. Little girls are always doing things like that, especially little girls who are raised by self-appointed Void scientists and have a parasitic bone-tipped tentacle whip in place of a right arm.

I don't know if Alistair is actually capable of liking Ivy's jokes, seeing as he's not sentient yet, but it's nice that she imagines he does.

She also hung out in the lab with Mechi and the cats for a while, reading a book about shooting. I think Mechi was studying deep wells or industrial pumps. Something from the hygiene mod. They all looked like they were getting along. It was a lovely, slow afternoon for the gang.

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[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I'm kind of obsessed with Blackwall's idealized ideas about the Wardens. He was once picked up by a Warden and lulled by the promise of atoning for his crimes and turning his life around, only for that opportunity to slip away when the Warden not only saved him, but sacrificed his own life to do it. This whole experience makes our Blackwall become a Warden in heart, if not in blood, but with his own ideas of what a Grey Warden should be - noble, brave, inspiring, heroic, self-sacrificial. Everything he now wants to embody. He knows well that he's not there, but he wants nothing more than to start from scratch and be that.

In his beliefs, he reminds me a bit of Wynne in Origins who tells the Warden at some point that the Grey Wardens are supposed to be more than killing machines and weapons against the blight.

“There’s more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight. Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether elves or dwarves or men. As a Grey Warden, you are a guardian of men. And you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are.”

However, we know that's not exactly how it works. That's what they want the Wardens to be. The light against darkness. The shield against monsters.

Although it's not entirely wrong, either, I suppose, all things considered. The more darkspawn they obliterate and push back, the more people are protected from them. Of course, sacrificing their lives to fight literal monsters, which means those same monsters don't eat everybody's kids, ultimately is heroic, and it's something that must have been born out of the need to protect the world and its inhabitants (from the Blight). But to have idealized opinions of the Wardens to this degree, you have to ignore all the other shady stuff and the mentality we, as players, also know the Wardens for. The fact that the Wardens are primarily weapons to slay darkspawn, prevent and end Blights, by any means necessary. The last part is important. After all, they are the Grey Wardens, not the White Wardens. They recruit from all walks of life and are famous for taking in criminals. Not to redeem themselves and get a second chance at life, but because they usually have nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. It's not a coincidence that each of the Origins gets chosen by Duncan, not only because he sees them as capable, but also because they are in a situation they can't escape from. Either they join the Wardens, or they're done for.

We know the Wardens from a few games now, but does the public in the setting even know? Does the average person have any idea how far the Wardens are willing to go? Besides grand stories of slaying monsters in the dark and preventing the end of the world? Probably not. The order is very secretive. And it explains a lot. The Wardens end up sounding almost romantic, when being a Warden is anything but. Is it ignorance talking out of these characters? Perhaps.

It once again shows us this aspect of Dragon Age where you can't take everything a character says as a fact, because the setting is full of people who have no idea what they're talking about, but who are absolutely convinced that they do.

And yet, I can't help but also like Wynne's and Blackwall's romantic ideas about what the Wardens are or should be, almost knights in shining armour and all that. They're fairy tales, but they're beautiful fairy tales. And I can't fault the characters for wanting to believe it or even live it. Especially in case of Blackwall, who sees it as a way to make up for the crimes he committed, somewhat. In the end, this might actually be a bigger draw to join the Wardens than, "Got nowhere to go? Come suffer horribly and probably die gruesomely with us!" It all sounds great on paper, though. I can't fault Davrin for trying to find purpose in life by becoming a monster hunter, either.

And maybe a little bit of idealism doesn't hurt. Not only it's good motivation, but in the end, doing things by "any means necessary" doesn't always pay off, either. It led the Wardens into all kinds of trouble, like getting tricked into employing dangerous forms of blood magic and demon summoning, basically into doing their enemy's work for them. In their determination to win at any cost, they helped trigger a cataclysmic event. Maybe having some principles isn't so bad after all.

In the end, I can appreciate that we get to see the clash of the old and new blood in Veilguard, where there's hope for the order to transform into an organization that's less secretive, less exclusive, and hopefully less prone to letting corruption spread through its ranks and make other devastating mistakes. Duncan once said that letting people join the Wardens isn't an "act of charity", and I like how Evka and Antoine go, "Yeah, you know what? Fuck that." And that likely inspires more loyalty. I imagine Blackwall would like that.

[coffeeworldsasaki]

It's totally predictable but I still got a couple minutes of confusion when someone didn't agree with me when I said that people think Dao Is a dark fantasy unlike all the games that came after just because there's women raped and used to breed

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, POV shifts!, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, toxic masculinity, typos, etc.

A/N: YAY WE ACTUALLY FINISHED A SERIES HAHHAH lol. thank you so much to everyone who read safe keeping on here <3 im so luv all of you !! i will be continuing this so HIHHH look forward to it ig 😋 [originally posted on ao3] | [continuation fic on ao3] | [continuation on tumblr]

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1 @thestrals-and-firewiskey

We are greeted by a group of men when we arrive at the Alistair dwelling.

Sandor helps me dismount my horse. I thank him, then the stable boy, who takes our rides. Sandor ushers me in and we hand our coats to the servants by the door.

My husband scrutinizes the place, a grave expression on his features as he takes in the halls that were decorated with streamers. As we get deeper into the home, I grab Sandor's arm and carefully word, "remember why we're here."

He turns to me and raises a brow, "and why are we here, darling wife?"

I cannot help the way I react to his words, his term of endearment. I know it is condescending, but my stomach tumbles at the sound of it either way. I look forward, unable to keep his gaze, "we're here to pay out respects to a man that extended generosity to us."

Sandor notices the way my face twitches. He sighs and turns away, "I will not kill the pretty boy. Do not be so upset."

"I'm not upset," I turn to him.

He scoffs under his breath, "what's with the face then?"

"What face?"

"A face fairest in the land, many would say."

Sandor and I stop in our tracks.

My brows raise and I break into a chuckle of disbelief and surprise. The man who had spoken smirks as I greet him, "Lord Baelish."

Sandor feels his blood boil when the Littlefinger bows and reaches out a hand. He tightens his grip on me.

I turn to Sandor, noticing how darkly he was eyeing Petyr, and decide to let out a laugh to ease the tension, "there be no need for such formalities, Petyr."

Petyr straightens up, lowering his hand, maintaining his smirk.

Sandor's lips twitch as he grumbles slowly himself, "Petyr."

"I am glad we're past that, my dear," Petyr says before Sandor tugs me by the arm behind him as he steps forward.

The shorter man looks up and the taller one snorts. I manage to pull my arm away, coming in between them. I nervously laugh and elbow Sandor back, not that it does anything, "if you'll excuse us, we must speak to the man on the hour."

Petyr looks back at me, unfazed and still smirking, "of course. But I do I hope, for your sake, you spare me a moment after. I have something rather important to talk to you about."

"About what?!" Sandor bark. I feel the tension of his form when he presses nearer, flush against my back, to impose upon the lord.

Lord Baelish doesn't spare the Hound a glance, "why, about the monsters plaguing your ancestral home." 

My lips part.

The blue eyed man raises a brow, "you've long wished to be safe from this peril, yes?" he bows, "I believe I have a solution for you."

Before I could even think, Petyr straightens up and smirks as he walks away.

I hear the Hound whisper behind me, "I'll fucking kill him instead."

Before I could respond, a voice calls out to me. I turn and see it is Lord Alistair, making his way over.

He jogs up to me with an excited expression and reaches out a hand. I smile back at him and take it out of instinct. When he is close enough, Cedric kisses my knuckles.

The Hound did not realize this had happened up until he tore his gaze from damned Littlefinger. When he notices Alistair, he nearly breaks his teeth from clenching his jaw so tight.

"I am happy to see you, my lady," Cedric nods with a lopsided smile.

Before the Hound can react, the pretty boy is speaking again.

"And you, my lord," he nods to Sandor.

"I don't share the sentiment," the Hound growls through a strangled breath.

Cedric laughs. He places a hand on his chest as he does, then motions, "forgive me. You must be famished from your travels," he looks to his right then back to us, "please. My servants have prepared my favorite dishes. Help yourself and make merry."

"I'll be merry if I fuc--

"THANK YOU, MY LORD!" I cut off with a massive grin. I curtsy and chuckle, mustering all the sincerity I had, praying it overshadowed my jitters, "may you always be so generous and joyous on your nameday."

Cedric chuckles and waves me off, "please. Spare me the formalities. I pray you go and eat with your husband before he kills someone."

Lord Alistair is the only one that laughs at the joke. A few delayed seconds later, I manage to laugh with him, forcing down my agitation.

Sandor doesn't budge the first time I tug on his arm. He follows after the fourth. He eyes Cedric as we walk away, but the said man is already preoccupied with another guest to notice.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I whimper under my breath as I quite literally run after the buzzing Hound.

Sandor makes his way down the hall in a break neck speed, at least for me. I have to catch my breath when we enter the weapons room. I heave and look around the foreign place, eyeing the axes, the arrows, the swords, and the armor displayed all over.

"Your pretty boy has good taste," Sandor slurs as he grabs a sword mounted on the wall, knocking over a few others as he did.

I cringe at the clank of steel against ground and step back when Sandor begins to wave his blade around. I mumble, "he's not my pretty boy."

Sandor continues to swing the sword. I pull my head back in agitation.

He then picks up the fallen swords but cannot manage to put them back in their place without moving shakily, and dropping a few.

I panic and press my back against the wall, "my love, this is a horrible idea!"

Sandor stops and turns to me, "how is it horrible? Lord Alistair wanted a sword fight with me, and that's what he's gonna get. He chose this nameday gift, not I."

I watch as he finally manages to put away the swords.

"You were there, my jittery bride."

I straighten up and slowly walk towards him with my palms cautiously raised. Sandor is perfectly still when I come close. I release a sigh of relief when I manage to grab his arms, "please listen. I was also there when you downed three ewers of wine, puppy."

He leans down.

I clench my jaw.

I can feel his breath, smell the alcohol in it, as he mutters, "I'm not a lightweight."

I gasp when he comes low enough to kiss my neck.

My skin pricks when he whispers hotly, "and I'm not a puppy."

My heart is racing when he straightens up. He does so in a rather staggering manner, telling of the effects of his alcohol consumption.

"You're drunk."

"Am not," he rebuts.

I scowl at him, "you're a drunk puppy, my dear."

He smiles, "I thought I was your love?"

My stomach churns.

Sandor purses his lips when I do not respond.

I feel my face prick with heat, "would you listen to me if you knew that I loved you?"

He chuckles, turns his back on me, and heads for the door, "well, do ya?"

I feel like vomiting. I whisper under my breath, "I do."

He reaches for the knob and opens the door, "nice try, beautiful," he reaches a hand out, "come. Maybe your pretty boy will manage to ki-"

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING HIM THAT!" I snap and storm over to him. "Lord Alistair is NOT my pretty boy! He's not mine and will never be!" I feel my blood boil and my eyes begin to fog, "and stop calling me names!"

He pulls his chin back. His face hardens. He opens his mouth to speak but beat him to it before he can say a word.

"Stop mocking me! Stop calling me pretty squirrel! Stop calling me beautiful! It's driving me mad!"

"I'm not mocking you," he speaks lowly, "why would I mock-"

"Well, whatever it is, it needs to come to an end," I point at him, "now let's get this over with. I want to go home."

I storm off and head outside.

I make my way to the back of the Alistair dwelling, which had a large field where the sword fighting will be held.

I stand by the crowd of people and sigh through my nostrils. I watch as Lord Alistair does tricks with his sword, enticing the crowd to laugh and cheer for him.

I feel out of place in my spot because I didn't know anyone else, and because was not at all entertained by the spectacle. All I thought of was how badly I wished this to be over. Damn my drunken husband for agreeing to this.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I turn over and find the smile of Lord Baelish. I release another sigh, "please. Not anymore, Petyr."

Petyr chuckles and shrugs, "I've barely said a word, my dear."

His term of endearment triggers my vexation. I cannot help the way I roll my eyes at him.

He laughs harder, "what darling reaction."

I move away from him.

He steps closer, "did you know there are necromancers in Volantis?"

I glare at him just to look away again.

He gives me a smirk, "they are learned of tar monsters who enjoy eating village folk."

I turn back to him.

He nudges me with his elbow and turns front, "I've put in good word for you. All you have to do is take a ship to Essos. A witch there will get rid of your problems for you at a fair price."

"Hmm," I raise a brow, "oh, undoubtedly. It clearly is that simple."

Petyr turns to me, "it certainly is. Once the woodland monsters are gone, you'll be able to hunt and gather timber from the forest again," he nods his head, "and so will I."

Aha. I purse my lips and debate his words for a moment.

"And I trust you will allow me to fish in the Sterling River as well."

I look forward when the crowd cheers. I see before me, Lord Clegane and Lord Alistair, circling each other, the latter laughing in excitement, the former blank faced and stern. I turn back to Petyr, "very well."

He nods once more.

I look straight again.

"Perhaps a trip to Volantis is exactly what the loving couple need."

I roll my eyes at him.

Sandor and Cedric begin to tussle. The sound of steel biting steel fills the air. Cedric is an eager opponent, pressing forward every chance he gets. Sandor is relaxed and playing the defensive.

This continues for a while, metal clashing, boots skidding, voices grunting, and it was a rather showy match, at least on Cedric's end. Sandor is barely trying, I could tell. He must be conserving his energy. I've seen the way he's trained with the boys in Brown Wood. He's definitely trying to tire Cedric out.

"This is going to be a long match," Petyr whispers to me.

I turn to him and sigh, "a very long one."

Sandor catches this and feels his lips twitch. He turns back to Cedric.

I gasp when Cedric manages to disarm Sandor. The crowds gasp as well, and Cedric too seems surprised.

Sandor shakes his head, " 'm too fucking drunk for this."

Cedric straightens from his defensive stance.

Sandor nods, "well met."

Lord Alistair nods back, smiles, and turns about to bask in his victory.

As he bows to his guests, the Hound makes a beeline towards me. I watch as he comes close, my heart slowly speeds.

He grabs my arm, "we're leaving."

"Oh!" Cedric calls and gestures our way "a round of applause for the Hound."

The guests turn and cheer for him.

Sandor pulls me to his side.

"Come now," Petyr smirks, "won't you even try to best Lord Alistair in another round?"

Sandor leans down towards Lord Baelish and growls, "fuck off."

With that, I am dragged away.

"Sandor."

The Hound's horse continues treading in front of me.

"Sandor."

The Hound still does not stop, turn, or respond.

"Sandor!" I say louder.

Still nothing. 

I make the horse I was riding gallop to his side. He had not spoken to me the whole way back, not when we got on our horses, not when we stopped at an inn for the night, not when we started our journey, and not now that we near the gates of Brown Wood.

"Have you chosen never to speak to me again?" I quip, tightening my grip on my reins. When he looks the opposite direction from me, I scoff and roll my eyes, "should it not be I that never speaks to you, Hound? You've been nothing but insufferable the entire time we were at the feast!"

Sandor still does not budge.

I look forward and catch sight of Brown Wood. I give my horrible husband one last glare before growling and galloping away.

Sandor watches this. He does no effort to follow after.

When I get to the gates, I am immediately greeted by many servants. Polly, in particular, excitedly tells me he's taught the puppies tricks, and quickly leads my horse away after I dismount, keen to tell me more about it.

Lucy, though happy to see me, raised a brow at my missing chaperone, "did you lose your Hound, milady?"

I roll my eyes, "do not speak to me of that beast."

Lucy is bewildered.

I sigh and slump forward, regretting the harshness of my words. I shake my head, "have you prepared a bath for me?"

She knits her brows and nods slowly, "....did something happen at the feast?"

"Of course something happened," I muttered, "the gods are truly testing me." I brush Lucy's arm, "I will tell you more of it later. For now, I need a warm bath."

Lucy nods again and watches me walk off.

Before Polly could follow after, Lucy hooks her fingers into his collar, holding him back. The boy makes a choking sound, stops and turns, staring at Lucy.

"Our lady will not be bothered," she says.

"But the puppies!"

"Later," she pulls her hand away, "go finish your chores if you still have some, boy."

Polly makes a face and grumbles, though he does listen.

Just then, Lucy turns and sees the Hound walking towards the gates, leading his stead by the reins. She waits for him to enter, and the moment he does, she runs her mouth.

"Are ye not tired of playing this game?"

The Hound squints but spares Lucy no glance. He heads for the stables and undoes the ties on his horse.

Lucy flares as she follows after him, "can't you just do us all a favor and stop?"

"I'm not in the mood for nagging, wench."

"Then admit it!"

"Fuckin' what?!" he glares at her.

"That you're mad about your wife!" Lucy snaps.

Sandor stills.

"That you would die for her! That you're upset she wanted to go to another lord's nameday celebration!"

He removes his horse's saddle, "that was a formality."

"YOU'RE A FUCKIN' FOOL!"

Sandor whips his head to her.

"And a coward," Lucy raises a finger.

The Hound chucks the undone saddle to the side and steps forward. He looks down at Lucy, but she is unbothered and unafraid. He is shocked when she shoves him. He topples back.

"She's only ever wanted your love, you thickheaded oaf! Don't you see how hard she tries to please ya?!"

"Please me?" Sandor scoffs, taking another step forward.

"YES!" Lucy shouts, "she wants to be your perfect bride but you know nothing but cruelty. You repay 'er with bitterness."

The Hound feels his mouth sour.

"And puppies."

Sandor watches her wipe her face.

"Because you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be, milord," Lucy says with frustration.

Sandor feels like the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

"I've caught you when you think no one's looking," she speaks softly, "you love her."

Sandor feels his body burn.

"She loves you."

"She d-"

"Fix it before it gets worse. I beg," she sighs.

The Hound is stunned as the maid walks off.

When Polly spots him, the boy unknowingly grates his nerves as he leads the puppies over and shows all the tricks he's taught them. It wasn't much, in all honesty, just a 'stop' and a 'come here', but the three pups did them well.

Sandor couldn't be impressed, he was far too out of it to be anything but queasy.

He tells Polly he's tired and heads to the bedroom. Polly tells him he wants to show Lady Clegane the tricks before they sleep. He doesn't answer the boy. 

Sandor is both disappointed and relieved to find the room empty. His head is heavy as he changes. He feels like he'd sink to the bottom as he goes to bed.

The Hound had been pacing around when I got to the bedroom. He froze when I entered and awkwardly walked back as I headed for the bed.

I didn't speak a word as I went under the covers and laid down. I eyed him as he sat on the edge on the other side, back turned to me. I burn holes into his back with my glare.

It takes a few seconds of him rubbing his lap and him sighing loudly before he breaks his silence.

"I..." he trails off.

I shift in my spot to look at him.

He straightens, "I didn't like the fact that pret-" he cuts himself off and sighs, "that Lord Alistair and Lord Baelish were all over you."

I can't help but scoff, "and you've decided not to speak to me because of some two men's doing?"

"I DIDN'T want to fight," he blurts loudly then softly. 

I watch as he slouches and moves on his side to bring himself under the sheets. He sighs as he covers himself and speaks without looking at me, "I don't like fighting you."

I purse my lips at the thought. His words conflict me. I find it aggravating to hear when it felt like he liked the opposite. A side of me is also unwilling to believe it because it was too hard to believe.

The part of me that was still angry at him for being so petty wants to fight back with equal pettiness. But an even larger part of me felt too exhausted and defeated to argue.

"And yet you always do," I speak plainly as I turn my back on him and fluff my pillow. I take in a deep breath while bringing the sheets over my shoulder. I lay down, facing away from him.

I knew he wouldn't have anything to say to that truth, and yet I take a moment to listen in on him. He doesn't speak nor move at all.

I close my eyes, "go to sleep, husband. It's been a long day."

"Aren't you upset with me? I don't want you to sleep upset with me."

My eyes open. My stomach churns. Did he actually care? My lips part but I can't find myself to speak.

"I didn't speak to you because I know what I'd've done if I did."

I take in a sharp breath and give out a broken whisper, "you've done worse."

Sandor lets out an airy chuckle. It doesn't sound amused at all though.

He doesn't respond anymore. Instead, he shifts in his spot and lays down, as far on his end as he could be. He is on side, staring at the dark corner of the room. He musters all his courage, "forgive me, my lady."

My lips part.

Did he just say that?

"What?" 

I am shocked when I hear him repeat, "forgive me."

I roll on my back and look at him. I feel like I'm going to vomit. I think my body was shaking.

I inhale deeply through my nose, "what would you have done?"

He takes a moment to respond, "what?"

My courage flees me as I find the need to repeat myself. I turn my back on him again and clutch my chest. I can hear my heart pounding, "what-... you said you didn't speak to me because you knew what you would have done..." 

I feel Sandor shift behind me.

I gulp and curl up tighter into myself.

I wait for him to act but he does nothing.

I release a deep breath before speaking, "would you... have hurt me?"

My skin pricks when I hear him sigh, "aye."

I feel sick to my stomach. How could he admit that so easily? 

I think of all the worse things he could have done: smack me, shove me, slay me. I feel body begin to grow hot.

Sandor stares at the ceiling then turns to his side. His chest tightens yet he manages to mutter, "I only want to be gentle with you."

I scoff but it sounds strangled because of how tight my throat was. My eyes begin to well up. My broken voice croaks, "how could you say that?!"

The Hound says nothing.

"What?" I scoff, "you hit me then you tend my wounds?"

He doesn't say a word.

I begin to feel my insides burn.

The longest moment passes.

"How did you want to hurt me?" I snap.

He clenches his jaw then chuckles at himself, "I wanted to make you scream my name as I fucked you against a wall."

My heart leaps into my mouth.

The Hound continues, "I wanted all those fuckers to hear, to know what you were mine, that I was the only one who could do that to you, that I was the only one you'd allow to do that."

My blood runs still.

"The things I'd do to you," he mutters, "you'd be disgusted to know them."

My lips quiver as confusion ripples through me. This was the kind of hurt he wanted to inflict?

"But I want to be gentle," he adds, "I really do."

"Is that why you lied about the pups?" I find myself choking out.

Sandor is taken aback. He also hates how apparent the sound of sadness was.

"I know you were the one that found them and brought them home, not Lucy," I whisper.

"Lucy," he sighs, "she loves you so much, that Lucy. And you love her... You'd take a gift from someone you love."

I shake my head, "that's why you lied? You didn't think I would keep them if they were from you?"

"I didn't want to shroud the pups with my being."

"... I can love more people than just Lucy."

I feel him shift behind me.

My heart thunders in my chest.

"One day... maybe I'll be gentle enough for you to love me."

I feel tears rush down my eyes. I move to turn to him, but then his arm comes around me and holds me back.

"Please," his voice breaks, "I can't stand to see you cry or look at me with pity."

My hand comes atop his arm, "Sandor-"

"Can I kiss you?"

My breath catches in my throat.

His heavy breathing makes my entire body burn.

I slowly nod and manage to squeak out a yes.

Sandor immediately sinks his face into my neck and begins to kiss my skin. His lips were hungry and his beard left scratches all over. He snakes his arm tighter around me and pulls me into his chest. My entire body reacts to him, it burns and pricks and pulses. He kisses my cheek; he kisses my tears away.

My belly tumbles when he rubs it. He props himself up on his other arm, "I'll die a happy man to see you love my babe," he trails kisses up my jaw to my ear, "it's more than I'll ever deserve."

I suck in a deep breath and lean into his touch. I press my body flush against his and this elicits a groan from him. He fists my nightgown into his hand and nips my lobe. He draws in deep breaths and sighs against my ear, "I can be gentle. I can be so gentle."

I take his fist and he immediately releases my clothes. His breathing grows more strangled as he shifts behind me. 

I push his hand down and he shudders when it comes in contact with my thighs. I release his hand and bring my leg atop of his. I pull my skirt up and mumble, "gentle."

"Fucking gods," he kisses my shoulder and pulls my gown up. He rubs my thigh a few times then sinks his hand underneath my smallclothes.

He shushes me as I grow rigid against him and kisses my neck some more.

I whimper when he pulls my undergarments down and moves his fingers into my soft spot. He very much so gently touches me until I begin to melt against him. I arch my back and lean into him.

"Good girl," he mutters, "such a good girl. My beautiful girl."

"More please," I heave.

Sandor presses his body against mine, "don't have to tell me twice."

I whine his name when he sinks a finger into me. My toes curl and my hand grabs onto his bicep.

I make a sound when he pushes deeper, and an even throatier one when he adds another finger.

Sandor brushes my hair away with his other hand then sinks his face into the crook of my neck. He peppers kisses on my skin and my body burns all the more because of it. I turn my face to him and move my mouth close to his.

Flames rage inside my belly when our lips meet.

He goes still for a second when I kiss him. It takes a few moments before his lips move against mine. Though his beard was tickling my skin, the exchange was lovely. It was warm. It was right.

I bring the hand I had on his arm up to his cheek. My fingers find their way to his scalp where I begin to tug his hair gently.

We pull away when I yelp at the feel of his hand going back to work. Sandor does not relent his kisses on my cheeks, nose, and eye lids.

"Does it feel good?" he asks in between pecks.

I whimper as I nod.

Sandor sighs and grazes his teeth against my neck, "so good."

I mewl when he begins to pump his fingers faster into me.

"So sweet and soft and beautiful-- so, so beautiful against me."

"Sandor-"

"I want to feel you," he growls under his breath, "want to be inside you," he nips my lobe again, "want to fill you up, give you the babe you want."

I nod and chase after his lips. I kiss him desperately, "please."

It's not long until his fingers are replaced by his cock. We both tense against each other then slowly relax and reconnect our mouths.

I am surprised when I feel his tongue brush against my lips. I squeak when he begins to buck his hips into me at a slow but purposeful pace.

He presses his fingers into my inner thigh, pulling that leg closer towards him. I bring my hand down to his forearm and grip him for dear life. He pushes his chest into my back and breaks our kiss to allow us both a breath.

Sandor maneuvers himself into a better position. He nearly has me sprawled on top of him. He locks his grip on my hips and snaps into me with all that he's got.

He calls my name. He calls me beautiful. He calls me his wife. He tells me he loves me.

It's all too much that my eyes begin to water and my belly begins to tighten.

Though his movements were wild and sharp, and though the sound we were both making were loud and lewd, there was something sacred about it, something sincere.

I nearly sob when I come undone. I cry out his name as I feel intense pleasure crash all over my body. My mind is too misty to take into account that Sandor had been repeating the same three words as he too fell into bliss.

He doesn't immediately stop moving. He only does so when I'm laid back on my side again.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel him shift away from me.

"Don't pull away!" I snap. I grab his arm and wrap it around me, trapping it between my own. I lean back into him, "don't leave me! You keep leaving me."

Sandor, who was just catching his breath, feels like he was winded all over again. He thinks about the discomfort that this position will bring, but he figures sex just leaves people emotional and clingy sometimes.

He kisses my cheek, "we'll stay like this, if that's what you want."

I nod enthusiastically and turn to kiss him.

When I do however, he pulls his face back. It makes me go rigid.

It takes a second for Sandor to realize what he did. He is now overly conscious of the scar on his face and the damned reflex he has for it. He opens his mouth but he doesn't say anything.

I begin to feel my face burn and yet I'm too stunned to move.

The next moment, we speak at the same time then immediately go silent.

I gulp and turn away from him, bursting out as I did, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to overstep."

"You did nothing wrong." he shakes his head.

"You asked if you could kiss me," I mumble, "I didn't do the same."

"You can do whatever you want with me-"

"Sandor-"

"-I belong to you. I am your hound. That's all I am."

My eyes glass at his words. I feel him kiss my nape. My skin pricks when he rubs his hand down my belly.

He sighs heavily, "... sorry for being so broken."

I screw my eyes shut.

"... you can kiss me... if you really want to."

I nearly break my neck turning it back so quick. I press my face against his and just remain like this for a moment. I brush my nose against his textured skin and recall the time I did the same during our wedding night. He pulled away then, he pulled away now.

"I'm sorry you can't trust me," I whisper.

Sandor doesn't have the time to react to that.

I leave about a hundred kisses on his scar before my neck begins to tire. I knit my brows and whisper again, "don't let me go."

I face front and feel sleepiness catch up with me.

"Good night, Sandor."

I vaguely hear him whisper I love you behind me.

Sandor woke up with sunshine shining down his face. He was more than well-rested. He honestly doesn't remember the last time he slept this good.

He stretches in bed and groans. It takes him three seconds to realize he was alone.

It's almost enough to make him shoot upright in panic. The only reason he doesn't is because he quickly thinks it was fucking stupid of him to feel anything, any sort of panic or worry-- worse, hurt or sadness for waking up alone.

He did that many times over, left her alone-- too many times to count, surely more times than the good night's of sleep he's had.

So, he lays there with a stone-heavy pit of emptiness in the middle of his rib cage. There was nothing else to do with it crushing his chest. No amount of reasoning, of rational explanations that his wife was the lady of Brown Wood, who was always busy, who was always attending many other people, nothing could lift the stone weighing down on his chest.

He feels like he's slowly choking.

The Hound only gets up when he hears the small barks of the pups coming from outside. Somehow the idea of his wife waking up to attend to the dogs made this ordeal bearable.

He heads to the bathroom first and freshens up.

After, he heads to the living area and tenses when a pair of servant girls greet him good morrow. His lips twitch as he grunts and nods at them. The girls perk up and stare at him for a second as they pass. He vaguely hears them mumbling 'did he just greet us back?' as they each head their way.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He should have said good morrow in return. Fuck. 

It probably doesn't matter. He's been ignoring everyone since they've moved here. Why start now?

Well... he was ignoring everyone except Lucy, who vexingly demanded his attention; Daisy, who used to do the same... and his lady.

Sandor opens the front door and steps outside.

His-

"Lady Clegane," Petyr fucking Baelish nods and reaches a hand to his wife.

Sandor is stunned. This wretched, slimy looking Littlefinger-man was up on his stupidly embellished steed, which, mind you, was too big for the fucker, kissing his wife's knuckles a goodbye.

What the fuck was he doing here so fucking early?

Littlefuckingfinger smiles and straightens up as he releases her. His wife waves goodbye.

As she does so, Littlefinger catches sight of Sandor and his smile pulls into a self-satisfied little smirk. He nods his head once to him and fucking rides off. Even fucking Polly waves him goodbye and it makes him want to chase after him and gouge his eyes out.

"Husband."

The Hound averts his gaze.

Sandor's breath is knocked out of his lungs when he sees his wife gleaming at him.

Fuck, she's walking over.

Everything in him is so overwhelmed by her that he nearly steps back.

She holds something in her hands as she gives him a lopsided smile, "you had a good sleep."

He opens his mouth to speak but a lump in his throat stops him. He gulps.

She laughs. She does so with grace, her pretty teeth all bared to him, "I wished to stay with you until you woke, but I could not leave Brown Wood unattended till late in the afternoon."

For a moment, he is in disbelief and doubts it was actually midday. He looks up and sees, indeed, the sun was at its height.

He looks back to her to apologize for sleeping in, but again, his voice is lost to him. By only taking one step towards him, she renders him powerless. She intensifies it by taking his arm and giving him that look, that look of apprehension that was masked in sweetness. It was maddening.

"Will..." she draws a deep breath, "you let me kiss you?"

What the fuck?

Her brows raise. She pulls her hand away, "y-you don't have to."

"Wait-" gods, did he say that aloud? "-no. You can! You can!" he responds with desperation, "you don't even have to ask."

His wife smiles back at him, but it's not the same. 

Gods, he's ruined it again. 

He is surprised when she still leans over and gives his cheek a quick peck.

He barely has time blush as he's turning his head to watch her as she walks past him. She says something about breaking fast and he mutters something incoherent in response.

Sandor doesn't even realizes that he's been made to sit down on the dining table, until one of the pups take his seat before he can.

Where did they even come from?

"Fuck off then," he says, shooing the small thing. It barks loudly and then he realizes it's the loud one, Lilac. He growls, "off, Lilac!"

Lilac makes a smaller sound of protest but has no other choice but to get off the chair when Sandor tips it over.

He quickly sits down and makes a victorious face to the puppies, who continue to bark at him.

He watches as the pups quiet down as his wife comes back holding a bowl of stew and a spoon. His insides tingle when she leans close to him to set it down before him. She then drags a chair and sits next to him.

He takes the spoon.

She smiles at him and rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the table, "eat up."

Sandor releases a breath and does just that, "thank you."

He realizes just how hungry he was at this moment. He begins to pig out.

"Thank you for holding me throughout the night."

The Hound almost gargles his food in his throat trying to muster up a response.

She laughs and touches his arm again, "it's alright. Just eat."

Sandor doesn't have a moment to say that he would hold her until she gets sick of him.

His wife straightens up and pushes a something towards him, a letter, it seems, "Lord Baelish gave this to me."

He nearly chokes as he swallows.

He doesn't like the way his wife smiles when she continues to speak of him, "he's given me a map and letters to aid my passage to Volantis-"

"Volantis?" he sets his spoon down with more force than necessary, "the fuck is in Volantis?"

She straightens up, "remember we met at Lord Alistair's nameday?"

"Fucking Alistair."

She sighs through her nostrils, "Lord Baelish spoke to me then of someone who knows how to get rid of the monsters in the forest."

"Am I not enough for you?" he turns his body to her, "you need to hire some sellsword on the other side of the world to kill those fucks for you?"

He watches her withdraw before his very eyes. She brings her hands together and places them on her lap. She purses her lips into a soft smile before speaking, "there is no one in the world, this side or the other, that I would trust with handling the monsters in battle. But," she sighs, "Lord Baelish didn't speak to me of a sellsword. He spoke of a witch."

"And you fucking trust him?" he quips impatiently, "you'd trust a witch vouched by Littlefinger?"

She sighs again. She no longer finds it in her to pull a smile, "I do-"

"Well, don't."

"-because he'll get something out of it."

The Hound clenches his jaw and rubs his knuckles with his thumbs.

"In return for his help, I would be allowing Petyr to access to our fish, game, and wood."

The Hound sighs heavily, "Petyr.'

She shakes her head and chuckles. She chuckles until she breaks into a genuine laugh, "but matters not. If my lord does not approve then there is nothing more to do."

Sandor's stomach sinks when she stands up.

"I'll go ahead with my errands now," she nods and offers a lopsided smile.

Just before she walks away, Sandor grabs her hand and weakly mutters, "no, please. Please stay."

She laughs softly; she laughs sweetly. She places her palm on his knuckles then takes his hand in both of hers. She kisses the back of his hand and shakes her head, "I am not leaving, my lord, merely going off to do my errands."

The Hound stops her from letting go. He clutches her hands firmly in his larger one. He parts his lips to beg her to stay.

But then, he sees her change. He sees her slip on a mask of a dutiful wife. She is about to smile, about to tell him that if he insists, she will stay, for him. He knew in his bones that she would.

And so he lets her go and looks away in shame. He can't bear to look at her, so he clears his throat and compromises, "I'd like to eat with you later... if you have the time."

It takes a long moment for her to respond. Sandor, whose eyes were stuck to the floor, find the pups were now sleeping under the table.

"I would like that too, my love."

Sandor chuckles drily at the pet name and grabs his spoon. He rather bitterly says, mostly to himself, "you don't have to call me that."

He waits for her to walk away.

She doesn't.

He turns to her when he vaguely hears her mumble something. He waits for her to repeat herself, but she doesn't.

"What was that, pretty squirrel?"

She shakes her head and curtsies, "I said enjoy your food."

He watches her walk off. He wonders what she actually said, because it sure as hell wasn't that. He swirls his stew around idly.

[preztee]

[extremely biased Dorian romancer voice] Guys, I think we won.

I know it's more common to hear that Solas romancers won - and after seeing how much extra content they got (additional dialogue trees with the Inquisitor and a whole alternate ending with a kiss), I can definitely see why.

But that's the thing - I've seen Solas romancers utterly split on if they liked this extra content or not. I've seen takes ranging from, "oh, I'm so glad I finally got my happy ending!" to "what the hell? This is awful!"

I've seen people heaping endless praise onto Solas' characterization. I've seen people deeply upset over Solas' characterization. I've seen people who think the Inquisitor vowing to save Solas is the most romantic thing ever. I've seen people who hate how the writing portrayed the Inquisitor as hopeless, blinded by love, and shadowed by Solas' dynamic with Mythal.

Case being... the fanbase is polarized. Some people won, but some people lost very, very bad. I've noticed the latter with those who had Inquisitors that romanced Solas, but wound up angry and vowing to stop him.

So, back to my first point. How did Dorian romancers "win"? For lack of a better term.

Well, for one, we got more content than every other romance (barring Solas'). I'm mad on behalf of the other romances, but there's no denying we made it out VERY lucky in that regard. Could it have been better? Yeah. But honestly, in comparison to Hawke talking about their romanced companion, I feel like we won. Not a huge win (Warden Alistair's dialogue about the HoF was a MASSIVE win), but a pretty good victory nonetheless.

Romance wise we got: direct, in-character interaction that alludes to Trespasser's conflict with the anchor secretly killing the Inquisitor. Sweet idle dialogue from Dorian. An immensely touching letter from Dorian that logically concludes his character arc from Inquisition (with him no longer being allergic to The L Word!). And we even got a Dorian romanced Inquisitor implying that he's up in Minrathous enough to consider himself a source of information for the Inquisition.

Generally, we got: Dorian being written in character (this is helped by him showing up as a side character and not a main one... less questionable decisions), with notable development stemming from what was planted in Inquisition (working through emotional repression, abolition and enacting societal change, etc). The option to make Dorian Archon or not, allowing for the player to decide what future they want for him. The Inquisitor wearing the Shadow Dragon casual outfit and arranging meetings in Dock Town of all places. Both of them surviving to the end of Veilguard. Both of them working and fighting together in the finale to save Minrathous and stop the gods despite the Inquisitor's duties in the south. Heavy implications that Dorian and the Inquisitor have been talking off screen about Rook and about recent events. Vague timeline that allows for several headcanons to fit - like, are they married? Engaged? Idk. How often does the Inquisitor visit? Well, often enough to consider himself a direct source of information, but with recent events, he and Dorian have been forced to use the calling crystals and write letters over the course of weeks... so really, it's up to you.

What we didn't get: Maybe a dialogue tree during Rook's conversations with the Inquisitor. Uhhh, there's one optional dialogue response if you're too formal with the Inquisitor where he calls Dorian an old friend. Which Dorian also does to the Inquisitor in Trespasser. Literally the same exact wording of "old friend". I can't be too mad over a such a funny oversight happening again. In the exact same way. But this time easily avoidable.

TL;DR - We got a lot of wins, a lack of divisive content, and a generally happy fanbase. That, and the Inquisitor and Dorian standing next to each other. Oh, the screenshots to be had. The whimsy of it all.

[kirkwallguy]

i rly think DA's companions peaked with rivalries lol, like that can create such interesting dynamics, when rivaled these people are still following hawke and you can still romance them, Interesting!! THat's cool! why are they doing that, staying with someone who's disagreed with them the whole time or done things they find objectionable - you get different dialogue in cutscenes too, they react to how you treat them (thinking with Merrill you can just chose to not give her the thing to fix the eluvian and you get a different scene after the quest) You can be mean, you can support them or not and they respond to that, it feels like your choices are affecting the characters around you. (diff game but alistair confronts you about Isolde and if you killed her, the kid, or got help, i'd have loved more of that!! more characters going "hey this was fucked up of you, why???" or "I'm glad you handled this" and then you can talk about it more, the companions having Thoughts on your good or bad behavior and actions and voicing it!) also I think not being able to just chat with the companions was a silly choice, especially with the fact that rook can be a crow or shadow dragon etc, wdym we cant just talk about that with the gang??? ask for their thoughts on it all and they ask for rooks, rook could voice support or question what the group is and what they're doing (kinda like with Wynne and mage warden, you can talk about the circles and voice your dislike or support for them), rook could ask for more information and if they know they could share, or they won't if rook isn't a part of that group and it's all meant to be secret or something - and maybe if you ask again when they have high approval they'll tell you anyway cause they trust you, more opportunities for lore and worldbuilding as well as exploring the characters a little more??

idk im :/ rambling lol, i just really enjoyed how much you could say and do in other games, dav feels limited? And like nothing was perfect in the other games but I feel like there were so many more opportunities to learn about everything and the characters felt so much more involved? I do love that the companions talk to each other at the lighthouse like thats great we get to see those dynamics more outside of party banter!

i LOVE the rivalry dynamic and it really helps with each playthrough feeling unique, a hawke who is besties with merril is so different emotionally to a hawke who rivals merril, and it feels like there's a near-endless number of combos? also being able to push back on companions is something people have been complaining about a LOT in dai and dav, being able to spend the entire game disagreeing with a character and still see their entire story (WITH extra dialogue and sometimes entirely different cutscenes to acknowledge the fact that you don't have a good relationship?) it solves such a fundamental problem with relationships in rpgs and i don't get why it isn't more frequently used lol

and yeah i can understand if they wanted to save money not doing chats in the lighthouse (tbh. the inquisition skyhold dialogue options were just annoying and useless to me especially when you had to exhaust them to trigger certain quests), but it just feels like it creates a distance between you and the companions when they can all have conversations with each other at the lighthouse but you can't speak to them? it just feels like such an important feature for the genre and the only other game in the series that doesn't have it is the one that was made in like a year

[baddywronglegs]

It feels so strange to feel not just optimistic but excited for the next Dragon Age game for what might be the first time in years.

... And not just because favourite arrow-ace Harding rocks in the trailer. And the idea of being able to have her as a companion, while in my "canon" playthrough she's in a QPR with the Inquisitor, which I think is a unique situation - I think the closest you could get before to potential formerly-romanced companions was Alistair and Morrigan in Inquisition, and they're around too little to have proper party banter.

Something about every companion showcased has me going "I need to know more about you". That and putting faces to names so I need to re-read Tevinter Nights.

It's strange to see all the companions up-front but I wasn't a fan early enough to see the promo material for any of the earlier games; I hope you still get to recruit them rather than just have a fully-assembled team from the get go, that always felt like an important part of the earlier games.

I'm glad Varric is coming back in an advisory capacity, because there was no way he wasn't coming back but being a knowledgeable hand behind the scenes while still able to hold his own in a fight is pretty much best case scenario.

Also... You know what, I agree with the name change. Agree they should drop the The, but Veilguard feels right.

I'm looking forward to being a DA nerd again.

[wittyrogue]

@valorcorrupt: If Inara kissed Zevran the night after the Landsmeet, would it upset him / break his heart a little? Would he feel used? random character questions are always good

She's beautiful.

She's sobbing her heart out, hiccuping, gasping for breath, snot running down her face. But she's beautiful and real and warm and clinging to him.

There's an incredibly stupid, incredibly selfish part of him that's glad to be here. Glad to be the one she reaches to for comfort. It could've been others--they've all become friends of sorts over this tumultuous road.

Although, he supposes, there's one less relationship between some of them right now.

Zevran does what feels most natural: he wraps his arms around her shoulders, presses a light kiss to her forehead, and simply runs his fingers through her hair. He soothes her, but doesn't shush. The stone walls of the room might echo, but there's no one in the room but them to hear her sob or wail. Whatever she needed.

Inara's crying stumbled and stuttered, shaky breathes threatening a return. His shirt's soaked at the chest. His thigh is cramping. He still doesn't move aside from running his fingers through her hair, silky and smooth at this point from his petting.

When she shifts to look up at him, eyes red and shining, he moves his hand to cup her cheek, brows raising in silent question. She looks at his lips. Up at his eyes. Back to his lips.

He shouldn't be surprised, yet as she pushes up against him, his breath catches as their lips meet.

Any other time, he'd be thrilled. He'd roll her over and kiss her til she was breathless and laughing. Until she forgot about all her troubles and worries, until she was asking for more. More of him.

But her cheeks are still wet from crying over Alistair.

Give in, give in. Her lips were so tempting, so needful. He could give so much comfort. For her, he could give anything she desired.

And if she wanted him? Tonight? As a distraction?

Who was he to deny her? Why give her further pain when he could hide his own beneath both their pleasure.

Gently, gently, he moved his kisses to the corner of her lips, to her tear-stained cheek, the bridge of her nose, then her temple. One hand cradled her head while the other squeezed her shoulder.

"Rest with me." Mi amore chokes his throat and dies in his mouth. His heart beat so loud. Could Inara hear it? Could she feel it? Did she catch the longing he whispered into her skin? "I'm not leaving. Rest, Inara, rest."

She settled once again into his chest. He carefully tucked her head under his chin and began rubbing soothing circles against her back. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend this wasn't about anyone else.

Inara slept.

Zevran didn't.

[reds-corner]

Happy super late birthday Alistair!

It's Alistair's turn! This one won't reveal as much as M's, but I hope to give you an idea of the kind of person he is. He hasn't appeared in the story so far, so let's see how this one goes.

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

"Dinner plans."

It's eight o'clock, and almost everyone has already left.

There should be around three people total in the building. But that's just the usual. Sure, sometimes it gets boring but it's necessary to ensure everything is in order.

And that's how Alistair prefers it. He likes the calm atmosphere that brings the late hours and that's probably one of the reasons why his father calls him a night owl.

He's also most efficient when there's silence.

And, knowing this could explain why he gets instantly annoyed at the sharp clicking sound of heels on the ground getting closer to his office.

Of course, somebody would interrupt him today, of all days, when there are so many documents to review at the end of the month.

That's just his luck.

And just to prove him right, a tall and beautiful brunette walks straight into the office a few seconds later.

He doesn't look away from the monitor in front of him. He doesn't need to do so to know who it is.

Instead, he asks apathetically, "What are you doing here?"

To which the woman who just entered the room shows offense. "Is that how you greet your favorite sister?" she asks while adjusting what looks like a new shoulder bag.

It's not like he didn't love his sister or the rest of his family, but he had decided to bear the burden of keeping the company on top. In which he took pride, but brought a lot of work, to be honest.

"You're my only sister," he corrects her, still working on one of the last few pending documents.

"Lucky for you." She adds, walking towards the side table in his brother's office.

There, she sees some documents neatly arranged on the smooth surface of the table and picks up a navy blue folder from the bunch to fan herself.

"Why are you here?", he inquires, half knowing that whatever the answer she'll give won't be satisfactory.

"I'm glad you asked," she half-replies while getting closer to his desk.

And, once she's in front of it she resorts to using the empty folder to block the view of his computer and get his attention.

…And by the unimpressed look on her brother's face, it seems to work.

When he's sure she's not going to relent, he finally looks up, "Who let you in this time?" Alistair asks.

"I sweet-talked your assistant, of course." She responds, checking her nails with a sense of victory.

He stops himself from asking "Again?" and instead, declares "I should fire him," while removing the offending folder off his monitor.

"You leave Henry alone," she warns, pointing a finger at him. "Seriously, Al. He should be at home already. YOU should be at home!" She chastises him as one would to a disobedient child.

"He's free to leave," he retorts, not wanting to continue talking about his employee when he's still not finished with work.

Sensing this, she goes back to looking around trying to find something more interesting while still holding onto her luxurious bag.

Lucky for her there are a few new items in the room. This time, some new decorations caught her interest.

Where does he even get this sort of thing?

It's a beautiful and delicate plate made out of wood, filled with six equally smooth wooden balls.

She notices they're nice to the touch so she takes one of the spheres and places it inside her bag. Now, only five are left.

A stranger might ask why even bother to take just one.

Well, the first reason is that everything seems to be in order inside the office. It's way too neat and perfect. It lacks personality.

And, the other reason, is that her brother hates it when things are in disarray or incomplete. So this is her very own way of messing with him, just for the sake of it.

It's not the first time she's done it. And it won't be the last, for sure.

After a few minutes, when the blond gets immersed in his work, once again. She takes the liberty of moving the five remaining decorative wooden balls from the plate and puts them in random places around his office.

Fortunately, the blond man is used to this type of behavior from his sister. At this point, he considers himself immune to her tactics.

And thanks to that, he can intentionally ignore the brunette without much effort.

That is until she asks another question. "Do you have plans for tonight?"

"Yes." He answers immediately.

"Let me guess, more work?" She asks again.

He offers no response other than a raised eyebrow as if saying: "What else could it be?"

"Oh, how irritating her brother can be!" she thinks.

And she hates the fact that if she were to ask a colleague about the impression they have of Alistair they would probably begin by saying how it seems he constantly needs to stay busy. And that to him, work comes before just about anything else.

And they would be mostly right, to be honest.

Because even his family considers him a chronic workaholic.

Which is why, his mother made him promise that he would dine with the rest of the family at least twice a month.

But the man, busy as always, doesn't always comply with his compromise. So as his big sister, she constantly has to remind and reprimand him whenever he gets too much into work.

Like right now, when she's forced to get her overachiever of a brother to come home and have a normal meal with their parents.

"Well, you better reschedule." She orders, lifting her bag with her left hand. "It's Friday."

"I'll skip today's dinner," He declares firmly, not wanting to continue with the conversation.

Which is, of course, more than enough to annoy the woman. As he would expect.

But what he didn't take into consideration was her sister making a plan b to deal with his stubbornness.

"Did you hear that, Mom?" She asks, taking a rose-gold cell phone from her new black shoulder bag.

"When did you-?"

"When I entered the elevator, silly," she answers in a sing-song voice while offering her cell phone to her startled brother.

"Now you listen to me, young man-!" the voice on the other line berates.

That's right.

Alistair knows better than to put up a fight when his mother is involved, so he takes the cell phone given to him. And listens attentively.

After a few more words and a reprimand, it's clear that only a fool would object to the demands of the older woman, so Alistair finally gives in.

"Fine." He concedes and ends the call with his mother.

All while his sister is looking at him triumphantly. "Hah! See you at nine o'clock sharp, Mr. Big Shot." She mocks him, walking towards the door.

"…All right," he agrees shaking his head, half a smile on his lips.

"And don't forget the wine this time!" She warns him while making a turn towards the elevator…

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

I had so much fun writing this one. I hope you like it, and remember we still have two birthday stories pending: next is Amelie, and finally Oli.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Kindred - Chapter Four

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 || Chapter 5

Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny)

Word Count: 7.5k

Chapter Summary: Max goes on his business trip and expresses just how much he missed you when he gets back ;)

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Teasing, edging, vaginal fingering, praise kink, goodboy!maxwell. If I missed anything else, lmk!

Notes: I'm sorry I'm pretty sure I promised y'all that they'd finally do the deed this chapter but it got way too long and that'll have to wait for chapter 5. To make up for it though, you're having a bath with Maxwell. Enjoy.

After your little impromptu morning romp with Max you both regretfully pulled away from each other before the still sleeping 6 year old could come in search of his father. Max went off to his ensuite to have a quick shower and you went to do the same in the main house bathroom. You washed your hair again, blow-dried and styled it and settled on doing just a light touch of makeup today. It was Sunday and you had no grand plans other than taking care of Alistair and offering to help Maxwell with anything he needed to prepare for his trip.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your mind wanders to Max. You’re happy for him for this amazing opportunity for his company, but you can’t help but worry for him. With the recent news of Alistair’s mother staying out of town for the foreseeable future and Max taking on full-time Dad responsibilities, you know it’s not going to be easy on any of you. Not to mention Max is always so tightly wound with stress as it is, the taught thread threatening to snap at any given moment. You’re grateful at least that he’s let you in, to let you take some of that stress from him and relieve it in a way that seemingly only you can.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach any time you think about it. The way he gives his whole self over to you simply because you ask him to because you know he needs it. You’ve had walls up around your heart for a long time, not letting anyone in for fear you’d get hurt again, but Max had a way of taking them down, brick by brick, day by day. And it started long before your sexual relationship began, you realize. Max had trusted you, let you into this little family of him and the darling 6 year old boy that now held a large piece of your heart in his tiny hands. You became a staple in their lives, and them for you.

You knew the coming weeks - or more likely, months - were going to get complicated. You and Max had yet to have a real discussion about it but you assume at this point that it won’t happen until after he returns from his business trip. You were glad for it, in a way. It gave you time to think over how you felt about it, and what you wanted your involvement to be going forward. You had a lot to think about, and a lot to discuss with Max.

You hear laughter flow through the house and it pulls you away from your thoughts as a smile crosses your lips. Clearly Alistair is up and he and Max had made their way downstairs to get their day started. You give yourself one last once-over in the mirror and satisfied with what you see you head out of the bedroom and through the house to meet them in the kitchen.

“Good morning gentlemen” you announce yourself at the entrance of the kitchen. Max is leaning against the counter looking amazing in a pair of dark tan khakis and soft pink polo shirt, sipping away at a cup of coffee. His hair is perfectly styled the way he likes it and you have to curl your fingers into your palms to resist the urge to go and run your hands through it, now that you know how good it feels to do so. If it weren’t for his son sitting at the kitchen table happily munching away on his Cheerios, you would do exactly that.

“Morning Nana” Alistair mumbles through a mouthful and a little bit of milk dribbles down his chin.

“No talking with your mouth full” you remind him gently of his manners before crossing the kitchen to wipe his chin with a napkin before it has a chance to drip down onto his clean t-shirt.

“Sorry” Alistair giggles sheepishly and you tossle his hair before leaning down to place a kiss to the top of his head.

Max watches the sweet exchange from a few feet away, a smile playing at his lips before he turns and grabs a mug out of the cupboard and fills a cup for you. You’re at his side a moment later, accepting the steaming mug and breathing in the rich scent.

“Thank you, Mr. Lord” you tell him, tossing him a playful wink that goes unnoticed by Alistair as your back is to the boy. Max surprises you by putting a finger through your belt loop of your jeans and tugging you a little closer and you quickly whip your head around to check on Alistair; a relieved breath leaving your lips as you realize the boy is happily entranced in his breakfast as he slowly eats and reads the random childrens facts and stories on the back of the cereal box.

“Good morning Angel” Max’s words are barely a whisper, easily unregistered by the young ears a few feet away.

“Good morning” you smile sweetly at him, your free hand coming down to rest on top of his that’s still holding you at your belt loop.

Max takes a second to peer over your shoulder to double check that his son’s back is still turned to the two of you before leans in and places the briefest peck of a kiss to your lips and then pushes you back a few inches and regretfully releases you from his hold.

“So,” Max suddenly claps his hands together, getting Alistair’s attention. “What would you like to do today, my boy?”

Max spends the entire morning with Alistair. The three of you go out for breakfast and then once you get home you give them some space to hang out just the two of them, excusing yourself to run off to the grocery store to get a few things you know you’re going to need to get through the week. By early afternoon Max is all packed and you and Alistair are standing at the top of the driveway waving him off as he heads to the airport. There are tears in Alistair’s eyes that he hastily wipes away as he watches his father go but you anticipated that and thankfully had the forethought to buy his favorite treat at the grocery store so once Max’s car is out of sight you let Alistair know that there’s a Strawberry Pound Cake in the kitchen with both your names on it and his eyes light up as he races off inside the house.

The 4 days that Maxwell is gone is mostly uneventful. Alistair does have one minor meltdown by Wednesday evening but you manage to calm him down eventually and by the time his father calls for their nightly chat, Alistair is fully settled again and is back to his happy-go-lucky self. Each night after Alistair and Max chat for a few minutes he passes the phone off to you and you get a couple minutes with Max as well to ask him how he’s doing and fill him in on what’s been going on at home. It’s not the easiest trying to talk to him because Alistair is typically running circles around you or playing nearby and so when Max confesses how much he misses you, you can do little but say “ditto” and hope he hears in your voice how much you really miss him too.

He tells you he will be flying home on Thursday but that with the time difference and the length of the flight it will be the middle of the night when he gets home. He could’ve opted for a later flight that wasn’t a red eye but that would mean not getting home until dinner time Friday and he didn’t want to be apart from the two of you a minute longer than necessary.

You’re excited to have him home and so by the time Thursday night comes and Alistair is asleep you lie awake in your bed like a kid on Christmas Eve too excited to sleep for hours until the numbers on the clock at your bedside start to blur and you finally begin to drift off.

You wake in the early morning hours, a slow smile spreading across your lips as you stretch out in your bed, knowing that Max would have gotten home sometime in the middle of the night. You push down the twinge of disappointment that you didn’t wake up to him in your bed with you. Maybe he was too tired, or maybe he felt it might be an invasion of your privacy to just crawl into your bed while you’re asleep (you make a mental note to let him know that you’d like that just fine). It’s still early, Alistair is not due to get up for school quite yet so you decide to push yourself out of bed and go seek out Max yourself. You know he needs his sleep, but you see no harm in at least cuddling up to him while he does it.

You make your way upstairs and frown slightly when you see Alistair’s door not all the way shut. You know you closed it when you put him to bed last night, but maybe Max stopped to check in on him when he got in last night. You poke your head in and your heart swells at the sight before you. Max, still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt (at least he lost the tie at some point) curled up and sleeping next to his son on the small bed barely big enough for one. Max is curled in on himself, his knees nearly to his chest to take up as little room as possible, meanwhile Alistair is spread out like a very comfortable looking starfish and you have to bite back your giggle at the site. The disappointment you briefly held for not waking up with Max in your bed quickly disappears when your gaze settles on the adorable sleeping duo. You knew Max had been missing Alistair a lot and couldn’t wait to get home again.

You watch them for a couple of minutes, both sleeping peacefully until you quietly pad into the room. Max sleeping scrunched up like a Slinky was not likely to bode well for him or his back when he wakes up so you reach the side of the bed where he is and gently push a hand through his hair. He hums sleepily at your touch, burrowing his face a little further into the pillow and you gently shake his shoulder instead.

Max stirs slightly and then turns on his back and looks up to see you standing over him and a sleepy smile crosses his lips.

“Oh, I fell asleep” he whispers quietly into the room and you giggle.

“I can see that. C’mon,” you say and he holds his arm up for you to grab and help pull him out of the bed. His fingers entwine with yours and wordlessly lead him out of Alistair’s bedroom and down the hall into his own.

The moment Max’s bedroom door closes behind you his arms wrap around you and he’s hugging you tightly against him, his face buried in your neck and breathing you in.

“Missed you Angel” he murmurs into your neck before placing a soft kiss to it.

“I missed you too” you confess; arms tightly wound around his neck to hold him close.

“Hey, listen” you say after a few long moments pass and you gently push back from Max so you’re able to look at each other.

“Sofia called last night,” you begin, your arms still around Max’s neck as his now slowly run up and down your sides. “She talked to Alistair for a bit and then she asked to speak with me”

Max’s brow furrows at this. You two had never really spoken much before other than brief exchanges of hello’s or goodbye’s when you’d answer the phone if she called or when she would pick up or drop off Alistair at Max’s place. You certainly weren’t unfriendly or anything, it’s just anything that needed to be discussed regarding Alistair always went through Max and the two of you didn’t have much need to speak to each other.

“What did she want?”

“She wanted me to let you know that she’s coming home for the weekend. Since she’s going to be staying with her mother much longer than anticipated she needs to pack some more things to take up there. She’ll be here tomorrow, Saturday, and she obviously wants as much time with Alistair as possible while she’s here”

“Of course” Max nods his head.

“She didn’t say anything to Alistair yet, and neither did I. I told her, obviously, that I’d let you know so you could call her to discuss it first but I figured…” you trail off and shrug your shoulders.

“No, no, of course she should take him. Alistair will like that” Max agrees easily. Thank God, for Alistair’s sake, his parents got along fairly well and were typically pretty amenable when it came to schedule changes for either of them if something came up.

“She said she’d bring him home Sunday night and then she’s driving back up to her mother’s place” you finish and Max nods his head again.

“So….” you begin again, taking Max by the hand now and leading him over to his bed where the two of you sit down next to each other. “Tell me about London, how did it go?” you ask excitedly, knowing what a big deal this could be for Max and his business. He hadn’t told you a lot during your phone calls while he was away, and the last big meeting had been yesterday and you hadn’t spoken since it happened so you were eager to hear all about it.

“We got him” Max says simply and grins and you shriek before quite literally tackling him down onto the bed in a hug.

“Max, that's amazing! I knew you could do it” you gush as you squeeze him a little tighter and Max huffs a little laugh over how excited you are but before you know it he grabs you and flips you both until you’re underneath him with your legs dangling off the side of the bed and he’s kneeled over top of you.

“Maybe we need to celebrate” Max says before he leans down and kisses you roughly, knocking the air out of your lungs at the surprise of it.

“Mmmmm,” you moan into the kiss, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he continues kissing you, licking into your mouth, his tongue hot and insistent as it explores every cavern.

“C’mere,” Max growls as he hooks an arm under your thigh and hauls you further up the bed so you’re no longer half hanging off of it and then he’s on you again, his mouth now trained on your throat, sucking and licking and the occasional little nibble that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Max!” You gasp at the way he all but manhandles you further up the bed. You do love when he’s submissive to you but in the rare moments when he’s the opposite and just wants to take, it sends a heat low into your belly that turns you into mere putty in his hands.

It’s fucking sexy.

You’d seen glimpses of it last week, typically after you’ve worked the stress out of him, so seeing him like this now you know it means that those business meetings really did go well for him and that some of the pressure has been lifted.

“God I fucking missed you” Max moans into the column of your throat as he nestles himself perfectly between your legs so he can grind into you and you gasp. “How much time do we have?”

You push yourself up slightly so that you can look over Max’s shoulder to the clock on his nightstand and immediately frown, flopping back down onto the bed with a sigh.

“Not long enough” you pout. “Thirty minutes maybe?”

“Fuuuck” Max groans before releasing his mouth from your throat and bringing his forehead down to rest against yours, shaking his head a little.

“I know what we said about when I get back and I know we were both looking forward to it but… I don’t want to have to rush through it” Max says sheepishly and you nod your head.

“I don’t want that either”

“I actually um, had a thought about that though, in light of recent news…” Max begins and you tilt your head questioningly.

“I was thinking,” Max begins again. “If Sofia will have Alistair tomorrow night, I’d like to… take you to dinner, and then after, you know, we’d have the whole night to spend together, just us. Would be nice…”

“Maxwell Lord, are you asking me out on a date?” You ask through a smirk and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“I realize we maybe went a little bit out of order here” he laughs.

“I think it sounds perfect” you tell him sweetly before wrapping your hands around his head and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Me too” Max smiles between kisses.

You kiss unhurriedly for a couple of minutes, tongues softly stroking against each other and getting reacquainted and hands roaming each other's bodies over clothes before Max pulls back slightly to look in your eyes.

“Can I play with you Angel, just for a little bit?” he asks sweetly before planting a kiss on the tip of your nose and you could positively melt for this man.

“Course you can baby” you smile up at him and run a hand along his face. Max returns your smile before placing a quick kiss to your lips and then brings a hand down to tug your sleep pants and underwear down. You help him by wiggling out them and kicking them off to the side and then he’s on you again, kissing you with a renewed passion and moaning into your mouth when his hand makes its way between your legs.

You’re already wet when Max’s hand makes contact and so his fingers easily slide through your folds and you shiver at his ghosting touch.

“Oh Max,” you softly moan. His touch is featherlight, borderline teasing as he gently explores your sex with skilled digits.

“So perfect” Max hums against your lips. He leaves you on your back but he pushes himself up to his knees, sitting back on his heels and repositioning your legs on either side of his. Once he’s settled between your legs he pulls both of yours up until your knees are bent and feet planted on the bed, opening you up even wider for him.

“Fuck” Max curses as he stares down at your glistening core and and runs his hands down your outer thighs and under your hips to give your ass a firm squeeze. He groans, massaging the soft flesh for a moment before his hands retreat the way they came.

“Max” you whine, desperate for him to touch you where you need it. Your hands come up to rub up and down his forearms as his hands now rub up and down the inside of your thighs, stopping just at the apex.

“God you’re so beautiful, my Angel” Max sighs and brings his hand up to his face and wetting his fingertips with his tongue before putting them between your legs, rubbing through your folds and exploring every inch.

“Mmm, baby, that’s so nice” you sigh dreamily. And it is, nice. It’s gentle and exploratory like he has all the time in the world and he pays no mind to the literal ticking clock at your bedside. He could’ve shoved his fingers inside of you and you probably could’ve cum easily within a couple minutes, given how pent up you’ve been all week waiting for him to return home but as always, Max wants to savor you. His other hand that’s been resting on your thigh moves up to push up your t-shirt before palming one of your breasts and tweaking the nipple between thumb and forefinger and another moan escapes your lips.

Max continues working you over, his touches getting a little firmer as the minutes tick by and you encourage him with your little whimpers and whines. A tiny gasp escapes your lips when he brings two fingers up to rub tight circles against your clit and your hips involuntarily push up off the bed into the pressure of his hand.

“Right there Angel?”

“Ohhh, mmmhmmm” your eyes are screwed shut as you gently rock your hips into his hand, mewling from underneath him.

“Oh fuck baby, I’m close” you murmur and suddenly Max’s fingers leave your throbbing clit and push back into your folds and you let out a loud whine at the loss.

“Max?”

“Fuck sweetheart, we still have…” Max turns his head back to check the clock. “Ten more minutes” he states before pressing two fingers into your heat and kneading a breast with the other hand. Your hips rock into his hand and you gasp at the new sensation of fingers other than your own, fingers so much thicker that can reach so much deeper.

“Oh Max,”

You already know full well he’s going to use every last second of that ten minutes torturing you with his fingers, staving off your orgasm until the last possible moment.

He continues pumping his digits in and out of you slowly, curling them into just the right spot that has your head thrown back and mouth open as little whimpers leave your throat.

“Shit, baby” your brain is foggy as you reel yourself back from your almost orgasm and try to refocus (easier said than done when Max is driving you fucking crazy). When you told him he could play with your pussy you didn’t think he meant for thirty goddamn minutes while he alternates between slow and fast, gentle and rough, always so fucking much but never quite enough.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and you fucking love it.

“Missed you so much” Max confesses before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing all your little whines. You kiss him back just as passionately, chasing his tongue with yours and expressing without words exactly how much you missed him as well. As your kiss gets more heated, so does Max’s pace as he pumps his fingers into you, even adding a third to the mix and your mouth rips away from his to let out a loud moan.

“Oh my God, oh my God” you’re a quaking and quivering mess in his arms, the coil in your lower abdomen gradually tightening for easily over twenty minutes now and begging to be snapped to give you some relief. “Maxie, oh fuck, it feels so good baby” you groan.

“Love making you feel so good Sweetheart” Max hums against your face before he sits back on his heels again, sliding his fingers in and out of you over and over again and picking up pace.

“Baby, I’m close, please” you plead with him. You raise yourself up on your elbows so you can watch his fingers disappear and reappear from your throbbing cunt at the brutal new pace he’s set. “Please baby, oh please, please, please. Oh my God, fuckkkkk.”

“I’ve got you honey” Max promises, and then immediately makes good on it by removing the hand at your breast and sucking his fingers into his mouth before bringing them down to pinch and roll your clit between the pads of his fingertips, causing your hips to jolt off the bed as a gasp escapes you.

“That’s it Angel” Max encourages as he switches to rubbing tight little circles around the small bundle of nerves and you let out a shaky moan.

“Ohhhhh, yes, yesssss. Fuck Max, fuck. Don’t stop baby, please! Don’t stop, ohhhhh don’t stop!” You suck a breath through your teeth, your whole body is thrumming with an intense energy as he focuses attention on your throbbing clit, alternating between rubbing tight circles over it and pressing down just the right amount of pressure that sends you reeling.

“I’m cumming! Oh fuck Max, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You wail before Max leans down and covers your mouth with his, swallowing your deep moans with his rough kisses. One hand still has his fingers inside of you, working you through your orgasm while the other comes up to hold the back of your head so he can kiss you deeper until you both become desperate for air and break apart.

“You are so beautiful when you cum” Max hums against the side of your face, nuzzling into you. “Thank you, Angel”.

He plants a kiss to your forehead and then pulls his hand away from your sex and hauls you up until you’re sitting in his lap. His arms wrap around your back to hug you tightly to him with you wrapped around his body.

“Sweet boy” you hum dreamily as your hands wrap around his neck and pet the back of his head.

“God I missed you so much” Max sighs, his words are muffled by his face being nuzzled into your throat.

“I gathered that” you giggle.

>His hands push further down your back until he’s got a handful of your ass in each palm and he squeezes, grinding you down into his own aching need.

“Fuck, should’ve woken me up sooner” he groans.

“Hmmm, maybe you should’ve just come into my bed and taken what you needed” you reply coyly and Max brings his head up to look you in the eyes.

“Really?”

“I was kind of hoping you might” you reply shyly, shrugging your shoulders.

“I didn’t know if that would… be OK” Max admits sheepishly.

“More than ok, sweet boy” you hum before leaning in to kiss his lips.

“I’ll remember that” Max smirks.

“I hope you do” you counter playfully and kiss him once more before you finally push away from him with a groan.

“I need to get Alistair up. Why don’t you go take a shower and take care of this little… situation” you tease, gesturing towards the very obvious tent in his dress slacks. “And I’ll get breakfast started and put on a pot of coffee”.

Max lets out a whine but dutifully nods his head. He knows it’s already getting late for Alistair’s usual wake up time and as much as he’d love to spend the entire morning in bed with you, he can’t do that now.

He reaches behind him on the bed for your discarded clothing and helps you back into them before he crawls off the bed and offers his hand to you to help you up. Once on your feet he wraps his arms around your waist for one last hug and kiss to your lips.

“Go,” you playfully scold, landing a light smack to his ass. “Before Alistair is late getting to school!”

“So bossy” Max quips and you giggle before gently pushing on his chest.

“Ok, I’m going” he concedes with a sigh and you laugh as you push him towards the bathroom and you head out of his bedroom to go to Alistair’s.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Alistair goes off to school, Max to the office (despite your arguments that he should be going back to bed, given the jet lag he was surely experiencing) and you head off to the salon where you had a few appointments scheduled for today. On your way home before picking up Alistair you also make a stop by the mall, wanting to pick up a new special outfit for your date with Max tomorrow. You feel giddy like a schoolgirl when you think about it and you can’t help it. Barely two weeks ago you thought it might be a one time - or at best, occasional - thing of you getting your boss off to let him relieve some stress. You’d never imagined then how close you and Max would have gotten over such a short period of time and just how attentive of a lover he would be (and technically you haven’t even had sex yet!). Now he’s asked you on a date. He wants to treat you right, not just like a plaything that happens to live in his house and look after his son. The familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your tummy again as a stupid smile plays on your lips all afternoon. Even a few of the girls at the salon had commented on it, asking if you’ve done something different recently, or if you’ve started seeing someone that’s got you looking like a lovestruck teenager.

“Maybe” you had simply shrugged at them, not yet ready to get into it much further. You and Max still hadn’t defined your relationship, but you’re hoping that tomorrow’s dinner brings some clarity to the situation. You know it’s complicated, you essentially almost live together already and he’s your employer. There’s not going to be anything normal about this dating situation and yet you’re still absolutely willing to explore it with him and figure it out. You hope he wants to do the same.

You managed to find a really pretty floral dress at the mall that is within your budget. It has off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves, a modest neckline and the flowing skirt stops around your knees. You hope Max will love it, but before you leave you make a stop at one more store to make sure that no matter if he likes the dress or not, he will certainly like taking it off of you later when he sees what’s underneath.

The rest of the evening is uneventful until Maxwell gets home. You play cars with Alistair for a while before making his dinner and then he opts to go into the backyard and practice with his soccer ball afterwards while you busy yourself with tidying up the house. Max arrives home around 8:00, dead on his feet when you open the front door to greet him just as he walks up the steps.

“Daddy, you’re home!” Alistair squeals from the living room the moment he hears the door and you don’t even have a second to properly greet Max before his son is barreling towards him. Despite his exhaustion Max bends just in time to swoop Alistair into his arms and hug him tightly.

“My boy, I missed you so much” Max tells him, planting little kisses all over Alistair’s cheeks and the boy laughs and wiggles in his grasp. “Were you a good boy today at school?”

“Mmmhmm” Alistair simply nods his head.

“Listen, I have some special news for you buddy” Max begins before placing Alistair back on the ground and kneeling one knee in front of him so they’re at eye level.

“What is it Daddy?” Alistair’s eyes light up like a kid at Christmas, already excited.

“How would you like to spend the weekend with Mommy, hmmm?” He asks and Alistair lets out a gasp of excitement.

“Mommy’s coming home?” He’s practically bouncing on the heels of his feet.

“Just for two days, and then she has to go back and help your Abuela, but yes, she’s coming home and she can’t wait to see you. She’s gonna pick you up tomorrow, ok?”

“Yes!” Alistair shouts, fist pumping in the air and both you and Max have a little laugh at the boy's enthusiasm.

“Can I have some paper from your office Daddy? I want to make a card for Abuela so Mommy can give it to her” Alistar asks and Max smiles warmly.

“Of course you can, my boy. I think Abuela would love that, it’s very thoughtful of you. Go on, get whatever you need” He tells him and Alistair turns and quickly scurries toward the basement door where Max has a small home office setup.

“You talked to Sofia today then?” You ask as you hook a hand under one of Max’s arms and help him to his feet as Alistair busies himself down in the basement.

“Yes, everything’s arranged. She’ll pick him up tomorrow, it’ll likely be late morning by the time she gets down here. Then she’ll bring him home Sunday around dinner time”

“Ok, I’ll make sure he’s ready to go in the morning” you tell him, already assuming Max will be going into the office at least for a while on Saturday, as per his usual routine.

“And when she brings him back on Sunday she wants to discuss what the plans are for the next few months while she’s away. I told her that you and I haven’t had any discussion on your involvement yet but that we would before Sunday night so that she knows exactly what’s going on as well” Max explains and you nod your head. It was something you’d been thinking about all week and you knew it was something you and Max still had to discuss, whether you’d go full time or stay part time, your salary, and so on.

“But um…” Max trails off for a moment, looking over your shoulder to ensure Alistair is still downstairs before he brings his attention back to you and reaches to hold one of your hands in his own. “I know, we have our date tomorrow night and… I don’t want it to be business. And I don’t want any discussions or agreements we come to regarding your role as Alistair’s caregiver going forward to affect our date in any way so I was thinking we could talk about that on Sunday, before Sofia comes by. I just want tomorrow night to be about us, nothing else” Max admits, soft brown eyes boring into yours and your lips curl into a smile.

“I think that’s a good idea” you tell him, your fingers curling around his. “I’m really looking forward to our date” you confess, smile beaming and Max returns it with one of his own.

“Me too Angel”

“I’m going to go run Alistair’s bath, will you go tell him he’s got five minutes until bath & bedtime please?”

“Oh, I can do it,” Max begins but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Max you look like you’re about thirty seconds from passing out” you laugh. “You’re exhausted. Let me do it tonight”

Max yawns but nods his head in agreement. “Ok, you win” he sighs and you smirk.

“I think you need a bath and bedtime yourself” you tease and Max’s eyebrow raises at that.

“Only if you’ll join me”

“Max!” You scold him playfully but his hands quickly raise in his defense.

“No funny business, I swear” he promises. “I’m uh, saving myself. You see I have a very important date tomorrow night”

You eye him questioningly, not sure if you believe him to behave himself in a bath with you. The man needs to relax and to sleep, and that’s it. Though, the thought of curling up with Max in a hot soapy bath is just too good to pass up and you don’t know when he’ll afford you the opportunity again so you find yourself giving in way too soon.

“Fine. But no funny business” you poke a finger into his chest to emphasize your point and he nods in agreement. You try to ignore the buzz of excitement that courses through your veins and instead focus on the tasks at hand.

“Go see your son, I’m starting his bath” you announce before you step away and head towards the main bathroom and Max wanders off after Alistair with maybe just a little renewed energy in his step.

You get through Alistair’s bath, making sure to give him a good scrub and wash his hair too so that his mother doesn’t have to worry about doing any of that in their limited time together this weekend. Once he’s dressed in clean PJ’s you lead him up to his room where you find Max waiting for him in the rocker chair next to his bed, story book already in hand.

You leave the boys to the bedtime routine, closing Alistair’s door behind you and heading back downstairs to grab a bottle of red wine and two glasses before you head back up and disappear into Max’s ensuite in his bedroom.

It’s not long before you hear Max’s bedroom door open and close and heavy footfalls coming towards you. You’re lighting the last of the tea lights that litter every surface of the bathroom to give the darkened room a warm and romantic glow. Two glasses of wine are already poured and sitting on the floor next to the tub that’s filled with hot water and soapy fragrant bubbles.

“Wow” Max says simply, taking it all in.

“You like it?” You ask, turning to face him. There’s a blush rising up your neck and warming your cheeks and you're thankful in the moment for the low lighting. You weren’t sure if it was a little too much. All that was missing was a trail of rose petals leading to the bed for this to be straight out of some silly romance novel.

“It’s perfect” Max affirms with a soft smile. “You’re too good to me Angel”

“Well someone was pretty good to me this morning, so this was the least I could do” you tease before walking up to him and beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Once you’ve helped Max strip down he helps you as well, though yours takes significantly less effort. Max had still been dressed in his work clothes (minus his jacket) whereas you were in a simple soft cotton PJ set of shorts and a top. Max’s hands linger for a few seconds at your waist once he has you completely undressed and you let him, until raising up on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss to his lips.

“In the tub, Mister” you playfully command and Max obeys, crawling in before you so he can sit with his back to the wall of the tub and you can get in front to cradle between his legs and lean your back into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Mmmmm” you sigh happily as your tired limbs reach the hot water. There’s steam rising above the bubbles and you hum in content as you snuggle deeper against Max’s chest and his arms wrap around you.

“This is nice” Max murmurs into your ear before placing a kiss just below it. “Could stay here forever, fall asleep just like this”

“You better not” you gently nudge him with your elbow. “I can’t lift you outta this thing if you fall asleep” you remind him and he huffs a laugh against your cheek.

“Fine, no sleeping” Max sighs and then reaches out of the tub for the two wine glasses, passing you yours first before grabbing his own.

You lie in the steaming bath for a while, chatting about both of your weeks while you were apart. You talk about how Alistair did, how your work week went with your other two jobs and how Max’s business meetings in London went, all the while sipping at your wine while each of your free hands gently roam each other's bodies. Your hand is placed mostly innocently on Max’s left leg, running slowly up and down from around his mid thigh to his knee and back whereas his touch gets increasingly bolder the longer the two of you relax together. What started as a hand simply resting on your stomach graduated to soft caresses all over your abdomen from the top of your rib cage to dangerously low on your waistline and your little hums of appreciation for his touch do little to discourage him so he tests his boundaries a little further still.

You whimper when a single digit comes up circle lazily around your nipple, a barely-there touch that’s still enough to send a little tingle all the way down your spine to your toes.

“Babyyy” you whine and let out a little huff of disappointment. He can make you feel so good so easily and you want to let him, but you already promised yourselves that this bath wasn’t for sex. He’s supposed to be relaxing and you know he’s exhausted.

“Please Angel” Max whimpers before he sets down his wine glass and uses that hand to wrap around the front of your throat, caressing gently and holding you even firmer against him. “Just want to touch”.

“Sweet boy,” you coo, your hand leaving his leg to come up and rub over his chin and then down the side of his face, turning his head towards you so you can place a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You need to sleep, baby, you promised” you remind him. “Let me take you to bed”

Max doesn’t argue, just gives a little nod of his head before kissing you once more and then releasing his hold on you. You set your empty wine glass down and you both step out of the tub and towel off. You opt to redress in Max’s discarded dress shirt, closing only a few of the buttons before you blow out all the candles and then pad into the bedroom where Max is in front of the dresser.

“I thought you wanted me to sleep” Max groans as he looks over at you from where he’s pulling on a pair of fresh boxers and sees what you’ve decided to wear.

“What, this ol’ thing?” You reply teasingly, playing with the hem.

“You’re mean, Angel” Max pouts and you laugh.

“I know, now come on and get into bed” you tell him before you reach for his hand and lead him over to the bed. You crawl in first, Max following right behind you until you’re both settled on your sides facing each other.

Max reaches for your hand, bringing it up to his mouth and placing a kiss to your palm. You smile at the sweet gesture and he returns it with one of his own before he takes your hand and brings it to his head and lets go. You quickly take the hint and start raking your fingers through his hair and his eyes close at your touch.

“My perfect beautiful boy” you sigh happily, letting your hand run through his hair, watching as he shudders slightly at your soft touch.

“You like that hmmm, sweet boy?” You ask and he whispers a quiet ‘yes’ and nods his head, eyes still closed and relaxed and you watch his breathing begin to even out.

“So good for me” you praise and decide to reward him by undoing the few buttons on his shirt you’re wearing so it’s wide open. He can’t see, as his eyes are still closed but you gently push at his shoulder to get him to lie on his back and an appreciative groan leaves his lips when you snuggle in even closer on your side and half drape yourself over top of him and he feels your naked chest against his own. His arm that you’re lying on comes up around your back and you lift your arm enough so his hand can slip underneath it and hold your breast. He doesn’t pinch or play, or tease, just content to fall asleep with his hands on you.

“There you go baby” you whisper before planting a soft kiss to his chest. You knew this is what he wanted, what he needed, and you’re happy to give it to him. Max loves feeling as close to you as possible and truth be told, you love it too.

“Go to sleep Maxwell” you whisper and he hums. Your hand rests on his chest, your finger carefully drawing imaginary patterns with a gentle caress to soothe him and eventually your sensual touches lull him into sleep and his soft snores fill the room.

“Goodnight baby” you whisper before pressing a kiss to his jaw and then making yourself comfortable until you are also pulled into a deep slumber.

You can’t wait until tomorrow night.

Tagging my Maxwell girlies @boliv-jenta @suzdin @prolix-yuy @heavennumber2 @macabremads

[pushing500]

Yes!!! Thanks to the nociosphere's valiant efforts, we have a nano structuring chip, which means that very soon, we'll be able to stop polluting the ocean, which will make The Green Clam Gobar like us more!! Just as planned!

No rest for the wicked, though. Randy Random has spotted the empty holding platform that the nociosphere left behind and has sent horrible monsters to fill the gap...

Our killbox dealt with them handily, though, with Mechi and Othello on watch nearby in case anything went wrong. It all went fine, though, and now Susskind the ghoul and Ms. Clarabelle the sightstealer have a new friend in the entity freezer. Hooray!

To celebrate our victory, the second of our outposts sent us some luciferium, which we will sell ASAP.

Randy I'm begging you I spent like five years struggling to unlearn same-face syndrome in my drawings you can't do this to me

God fucking damn it

I am mildly amused by the obelisk landing on an ostrich but more concerned about where the hell I'm going to find acceptable hairstyles for MORE unexpected Jones boys. When does it end, Randy? Quadruplets? Septuplets?? NONUPLETS???

Alas, that will be left to discover in the future...

First | Next | Previous

[jinxxangel13]

Ancient Enchantment

Chapter 4:

Thank you guys for being so patient! I know updates have been a little wonky, but I'm trying to balance out a few personal things. I'm at least going to be uploading every week, but it will just be whatever day I am available at the time. Thank you guys!

Tw: none

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

Recap:

As Azara approached the boys, she heard the two of them laughing and joking.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence.” Alistair crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, though his smile gave away his teasing.

She hummed, leaning against the stone next to the fireplace between the two boys.

“Nice of you to finally wake up, Atlas. Was worried you had overslept again.” She teased back.

Alistair's eyes widened at her, while the other boy burst into laughter and clapped her brother on the back.

“Definitely related with that sense of humor. I’m Sebastian Sallow, by the way. Welcome to Slytherin, best house if you ask me.”

“Thank you, Sebastian. I’m Azara Valentine.” She crossed her arms in front of her out of habit, eyes wandering over him.

Sebastian had deep brown eyes with some sort of golden shift in them, freckles adorning his cheeks, slightly textured curly brown hair that reached his ears, and a gently angled jawline. Very boyish, but in a more mature way. Charming.

“Not everyone has a ministry escort to school, you know.” Sebastian commented, looking her up and down in curiosity.

“He was a friend of Professor Fig’s who only joined us for the ride.” She looked away from him remorsefully, still trying to rid her mind of the images that plague it.

“Still, though- impressive. Dreadful way to go, poor fellow. Glad the two of you and Fig are alright though.” Sebastian was trying to cheer the both of you up after seeing the grim looks, and it worked for the most part. 

“It was dreadful, certainly-” Alistair started.

“But quite an experience, nonetheless.” Azara finished without missing a beat.

The twins exchanged a look, chuckling as they did it like second nature.

“What an interesting perspective the two of you have. Say, how did you guys manage to escape?” Sebastians head tilted as he leaned closer out of instinct, likely without thinking about it.

Azara and Alistair exchange glances, communicating without even saying anything, both trying to figure out how much they should or could say to their new friend.

“It’s all still kind of a blur, If i’m honest.” Azara scratched the back of her neck sheepishly.

Sebastian shook his head in apology. 

“I don't mean to press you, either of you. Promise. You both just get yourself settled, we can talk more later if you’d like.”

Alistair waved him off as Azara smiled.

She watched as Sebastian picked up the book he had in hand when she first walked in.

“What were you reading?” she asked softly, as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to ask.

Sebastian turned the book over in his hand, a mischievous smile taking over his features momentarily.

“Just a spell book I picked up. It has a few interesting things, just not exactly what I was looking for. I’m sure the two of you will find out soon enough that not every spell you might need can be found in our assigned textbooks.”

This captured their attention more than before. Alistair perked up, standing straighter with the thought of learning something not in the curriculum.

“Are you saying that some spells aren't taught here?”

“And which ones?” Azara was also intrigued by the thought.

Sebastian smirked at the twins with a laugh. “Seems I may have met a couple of kindred spirits. But that is a conversation for another time. It was good meeting you, Azara, Alistair. Good luck today.”

The twins said their goodbyes before wandering around the common room together.

“I liked him. Seems like the kind of person you’d hang around, don't you think, Atlas?” Azara looked up at him for a moment before looking back around the room, eyes landing on a wizard's chess game being played back toward where Ominis still stood by the window.

[fishandships]

Jamie and Laurie met during the planning of the funeral of Jamie’s father. Jamie was around 17 which would have made Laurie and his brother 15 (Alistair would have been 5). Jamison and Laurie wouldn’t have ever interacted with each-other if it wasn’t for Laurie’s brother. He was sort of the glue that kept them together in the beginning.

Anyways, when Jamie’s father died he had regrets. His dad wasn’t a great man, but they were still his dad. He didn’t understand why but it’s because he realized he was never truly had the father he needed. This became worse when he realized his half-brother, a kid he as barely met, had the father he could have only dreamed of.

This made Jamison a very spiteful person towards his brother and this is something the two bonded over at the time. It helped them mellow out a bit with each-other.

Laurie didn’t like thinking so lowly of his brother, but he just hated the obvious favoritism his father held for him just because Kas was a boy and Laurie wasn’t. Both Jamison and Laurie do get over their spite, Laurie being a more supportive brother, knowing that he is more than what his father thinks of him, and Jamison having basically become a father to his half-brother.

Fun fact, Jamison looks a lot like his father. He looks so much alike that Jamison has a constant fear of becoming him.

I know this doesn’t really explain how they interact, but I think it’s important to say about them—. And again, sorry if I type weird! English is hard to write in.

man what a rough time to meet. oof ow.

it makes sense that they got off to a rocky start with the different ways their father treated them (especially on Laurie's part)...i'm glad that they end up getting along tho (i'm a sap like that 😭)

also poor Jamison...that's gotta be scary.....does he try to mess with his appearance (like maybe dyeing/cutting his hair?) to look less like his father?

(no need to apologize! your english is spot-on!)

[seriously-nobody]

Love's Dark Afflictions

Chapter 13

Warnings: Major Character Death, romance, murder, blood, gore, insanity?, mental instability, mention of grief

Preface: WELP this is gonna be a real one y'all. I had too much fun fucking around with this one, as you can probably tell. Please read the warnings, this one's a doozy.

By the time you enter the courtyard, the wind whips through the weeping willows, making their branches and the spanish moss sway eerily. You dismount, handing your horse over to the stable boy as rain drops spot the ground. You rush up the steps to take cover from the oncoming storm, entering through the double doors. “Y/n?” William steps out of the living room in search of you. “Hello William.” You give him a tired but warm smile. “What happened? Where did you go?” He gives you a worried look. “I'd rather not say.” You look down, remembering how you left this morning. He sighs, walking up, and embracing you. His kindness and warmth are a pleasant contrast to your lover. “Well, I'm glad you're here safe and sound.” He says. You melt into his embrace, trying to ignore the feeling of Alistair staring invisible daggers at you. “Sounds of body, maybe, but not of mind.” Alistair retorts. The clock chimes, signaling you to meet Madame Leota in the seance room. “It seems my time's up.” You sigh, parting from William. “So it seems. Best not to keep her waiting.” William frowns, his hand lingering on your arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You nod and walk down the hallway to the painting door. “I want you to be as silent as the grave, Alistair. Is that understood?” You say under your breath. “Whatever.” He huffs. “This whole cleansing thing should be a bore anyway.” He scoffs.

You open it to find Madame Leota meditating in her usual chair at the table. “Madame Leota?” You call her quietly. “Come in.” She beacons. You walk in, closing the door behind you. You sit where you used to and wait for her to slowly open her eyes. “Hello, dear.” She says softly. “Hello… how exactly does this cleansing work?” You fidget a little. “Just relax, close your eyes, and I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright?” She says. You give her a confused look. “Trust me.” She reassures. You close your eyes hesitantly and focus on your breathing. “How did you feel when you first arrived at the mansion? Back before the ghosts were here.” She asks. “I felt sad for William. That’s why I came here after all. To take care of him when no one else would.” You say, keeping your eyes closed. Madame Leota hums, thinking. “Alright, how did you feel after the seance with that hatbox ghost?” she asks. Your heart skips a beat but no one could tell, except for Alistair. “I felt exhausted. The whole encounter was very draining.” You say. You can almost feel Alistair rolling his eyes at you. “It was quite overwhelming wasn't it.” She says, agreeing with you. “Now how did you feel after your run in with the highwaymen?” She asks you. You pause and let your lip quiver for dramatic effect. “I felt grief for Florence’s death and regret for not saving her.” You choke. “Good, now, feel your grief.” She says in concentration. You make a few tears roll down your cheeks to make it seem like you're thinking of Florence’s death, even though you aren't.

Madame Leota hums again in thought. “Strange… I can’t sense it.” She says softly and purses her lips. “Sense what?” You open your eyes to gauge her expression. “Your grief, I can't seem to feel it when you're around. Nor can I understand your aura. It's like something or someone is interfering with my abilities.” She says. “What's wrong with my aura?” You ask, curiosity taking you. “It doesn't look as it used to. It feels different now, somehow… It seemed to change after the night we encountered the hatbox ghost…” She says, trying to connect the dots. “What changed in you?” She asks, looking back up at you. You can tell Alistair has that smug look on his face, knowing the truth. “I've been on edge ever since then. It's like the ghost is following me everywhere I go, but I don’t know why. Like it's haunting me for some reason.” You say, almost truthfully. “Oh dear.” She coos. “So that's the reason I've been sensing madness on you since then. That must be it. Why didn’t you tell me this before?” She asks, silently opening her book. “You already had enough to focus on, I didn't want to add anything more.” You say. “Here,” She flips to a page. “I can perform this banishment spell, but I need a possession of the ghost’s.” She says. Your blood runs cold as realization sets in. You remember what you have on your middle finger. His ring suddenly feels very heavy on your hand. Your face goes pale as a sheet. “Is everything alright, dear?” Madame Leota says. Your hands clench into fists on top of the table. Drawing attention to your hands Madame Leota notices his ring. “When did you get that ring?” She asks. The weight of what you have to do next hits you harder than an oncoming carriage. “No… I-I can't…” You say. You're not sure who to, maybe to her, to Alistair, or maybe even yourself. “What do you mean you can't?!” Alistair's voice booms in your skull. You screw your eyes shut and turn your head away. “What is it, y/n? You can tell me.” She says, directing her full attention to you. “You've given yourself away! You know what you have to do!” Alistair barks. “N-no this isn't- This can't be it.” You say in disbelief. You hadn't thought it would come to such a swift end. You thought you had more time. “Is the ghost speaking to you? What are they saying?” Madame Leota says mentally connecting the dots. You begin to laugh to yourself, tears falling freely from your eyes. “Why did it have to come to this? Why now?” You laugh and sniffle. “Y/n, please, I can help. Just let me in.” She says.

“Ugh, and you,” You giggle. “/you,/” You growl darkly. “you just had to try to help, didn’t you?” You say angrily. “You just had to go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!” You stand abruptly. Madame Leota’s eyes widen in shock at your outburst. And finally, finally, she realizes. “No, you couldn’t have…” She trails off, her hand covering her mouth. “Oh yes I could. And you know what?! I did!” You shout in maniacal glee. “You killed Florence and Jules?” She says in disbelief. “Them, and that idiot servant, I never learned the name of, that patched up my leg.” You gesture to the healing wound on your thigh. “His body is currently dangling at the end of a rope in the rafters over the living room. Really I thought you, or anyone for that matter, would’ve noticed by now that a ceiling appeared one night, but I suppose no one really looks up there. Anyway, continue.” You lean over the table, resting your palms on the surface. “I never felt your grief because you killed all of them?” She says. “Exactly!” You grin pointing at her. “And your aura, I sensed madness in you.” She says. “Right again! I am quite-” You roll your eyes and point at your head, making a circle with your extended index finger, gesturing you’ve got a screw loose in your head. “You killed them? How?” She asks. “You’re prolonging the inevitable.” Alistair says sternly. “Oh but it’s good fun isn’t it? Finally getting to talk about all of it?” You say into the air. “Who said that?” Madame Leota says, looking around. “Oh that’s just the voice in my head.” You laugh at your own joke. “He’s that hatbox ghoOost.” You wiggle your fingers at her, giggling. “Materialize, I demand to see the face of the soul that ruined my friend’s mind.” Madame Leota demands. “Go ahead Ali, you can show yourself. There’s no turning back now.” You sigh. “Don’t call me that.” He materializes beside you with his arms folded over his chest. “Aww poor baby.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So you’re the one that’s poisoned their mind with your horrid soul.” She sneers at Alistair. “Poisoned my mind? Please,” You snake your arms around Alistair, keeping your eyes trained on hers, “I was one inconvenience away from turning to murder. He was just the spark to my gunpowder.” You rest your head on his shoulder, as you gaze at her. “What have you done to them, you fiend?” She hisses at Alistair. Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the room from the glass ceiling above. Alistair’s face contorts into one of pure seething rage. “Now you’ve done it.” You say. “I AM NOT A FIEND!” He shouts, his voice reverberating off the walls of the small chamber. Thunder cracks and rumbles almost punctuating him.

“Enough of this. Your games may be fun, but I grow impatient. I want blood.” Alistair growls. “I suppose, if we must.” You sigh wistfully. Your eyebrows knit together with a thought. “What if you possessed me? We could take turns controlling my body.” You look at him. You feel him shiver against you at the thought of being able to physically spill blood again. “That would be /lovely/ darling.” He looks down at you, his pupils blown out. You nod, closing your eyes and taking a slow deep breath in, letting his soul into your body. You open your eyes and look down at Madame Leota. “Please, you don’t have to do this. We can figure this out together. We can get you help.” She pleads. You kick the nearest chair to you across the room in rage. “NO ONE CAN HELP ME!” Your voice, deep and booming, mingling together with Alistair’s. You feel Alistair take the lead, grabbing her crystal ball from its stand. He brings it down over head, hard and swift, again and again. Blood splattering everywhere. He only stops when he’s sure she’s gone. Suddenly your eyes adjust and everything in the room is a dark purple hue. Then you spot her. Her soul just leaving her body. Alistair holds the bloody crystal ball out in front of your body. His clawed hand shoots out of it, pulling her soul into the crystal ball, trapping her in it. Your vision goes back to normal and you both pant, catching your breath. Alistair slides your palm over the crystal ball to smear away the blood to peer into it. Something in the mist moves and then you see her, she opens her eyes. “How dare you! You rotten corpse! Your appearance is just as ugly as your soul!” She shouts. “Well, I’ve had quite enough of that.” Alistair says, grabbing her cloth bag from under the table and shoving the crystal ball into it. Her shouts, muffled and distant. “I’m sure everyone heard everything that just happened.” You frown at the thought of so many loose ends. “I have the property locked down so they shouldn't have gotten far.” Alistair says. “Perfect. No one is leaving this mansion alive tonight.” You say darkly, walking up the steps. You open the door to an eerily silent mansion, the only noise you hear is rolling thunder and rain outside. “I suppose they won’t be making this easy for us.” Alistair huffs. “Oh well.” You crack your neck and roll your shoulders. “Time to go hunting for servants.” You hiss and prowl down the hall, beginning your hunt.

Chapter 15

[privatebooth]

Replayed here lies the abyss again, this time with tweaked settings so that Alistair was the warden ally, and it was nice to meet my silly pal again (so glad his sense of humor remained intact!) though it's still not my canon, but I had to see all possible variants!

Naturally it made me sad again, and to cheer myself up I replayed the battle of Denerim (Honestly, DAO combat is my favourite, a real balm for my tired soul!)

Think I'm gonna go fight the Arishok now. Reliving the most epic moments may actually heal the consequences of Inquisiton.

Except... I first must see Leandra die horribly to get there, but it's nothing new. That's where I stopped on my last pt, and I hate leaving things unfinished.

Maker, I missed the music.

[invinciblerodent]

I probably won't get to play veilguard myself cause I don't have a gaming pc, but your enthusiasm is contagious and I did start dragon age origins!

Yeeeeeeeesssssssss~~~~~~ my master plan is in progress~~~~~~~~~!!

But with more seriousness, I hope you'll have a lot of fun with it! ❤️❤️❤️ I just started reinstalling it myself- I do have a gaming PC (don't.... ask for specifics, I honestly don't know, my partner put it together for me when my laptop croaked and all I know is that it was comparatively dirt cheap and it runs BG3 on Ultra, heyoooo~), but I'm very curious as to what something old like Origins looks like on it. I haven't played it in a number of years myself, but I did fairly recently watch my partner play it again (he played Cid Tabris, probably one of my favorite Wardens ever- a gruff and grumpy city elf woman who was infected with morals through romancing Alistair), and the nostalgia, it's just... ah, it's real.

I remember, the first laptop I played it on was so old and messed up that I had like a literal egg timer going off to the side, because as I was playing, after just about one hour, my laptop overheated, and just completely shut down. By the time I managed to fix it (somehow), I was like halfway through the game already lol.

And tbh, I'm really glad that it shows how happy and excited I am about this, exactly because of this: because I want to have fun with my games, I want other people to have fun (whether it be by being around me having fun or not), and I kinda vowed to not let myself be embarrassed to simply like things very loudly, lol.

ey yo davrin when are you dropping them digits, man, i've some deep roads for you to plunder