#also loved trying to get Anders' ways of being vague about the things that hurt him the most from his past | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amorgansgal · 3 years ago

Text

The Only Compass I Need

Well as you've all been good VDL-gang hoes and as it's my birthday today as promised here's my longer fic for Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character. It's been edited and checked by my lovely partner, but I will always appreciate any comments or feedback. Hope you all have a wonderful day and thank you for making this fandom always such a delight to be in!

Summary: Ruth Shelton has been running with the Anderson Boys for many years, but when she and her daughter, Daisy, are abandoned in a snowy cabin in the West Grizzlies, she must come to terms with being left behind by people she thought she could trust and rely on. Determined to keep herself and her daughter alive, she will do anything it takes to ensure a better future for Daisy, but runs into trouble and has to rely on another gang to keep them safe.

Rating: Explicit

You can read it on AO3 too!

‘Ma?’ Daisy looked up from the newspaper she was busy colouring in, and Ruth tried not to close her eyes in frustration. Daisy had asked her the same question almost every night, just before dinner, ‘When’s Pa coming back?’

Ruth poked the remnants of the fire in the grate, willing the small, crackling flame to finish cooking the rabbit she had trapped. She didn’t risk gathering more wood with the evening rapidly growing dark. In the small, run down cabin the frigid wind of the West Grizzlies whistled through the gaps in the walls. Outside the first few flakes of a spring snow storm drifted lazily through the navy-blue sky.

She pulled the moth-eaten blanket they had found abandoned in one of the bedrooms around her and her daughter’s shoulders. She tried to ignore the twisting, painful feeling in her gut and the hot burn of tears that found their way to her eyes. How dare he, how dare he leave his daughter.

Two weeks. For two weeks they had sat in this cramped, dirty, broken little hut and waited. She had wondered after the first week whether he was dead or injured. She still liked to think the best of Frans, even though the man was unkind and impatient with her, and had cared so little for his daughter that on good days he would ignore her and on worse days shove her away. But by the time they reached the second week, with no one from the gang even attempting to find her, she realised that they’d been abandoned. Perhaps Frans hoped that the cold weather or starvation would get rid of a problem he could no longer stomach.

‘I don’t think he’s coming back,’ Ruth replied, her voice flat and distant. She coughed a little, clearing her throat, Daisy didn’t need to see or hear her mother’s resentment or pain.

‘Oh,’ came Daisy’s response. She resumed colouring in a picture of a man wearing a top hat, choosing a vibrant green for him.

Ruth poked the rabbit on the small grill, and sighed. Perhaps she was still clinging onto the vague hope that Frans might change his mind. Daisy seemed to idolise the man, no matter how poorly he treated her, and Ruth wanted her daughter to be right about him.

‘Tonight, we’re going to pack up what we can,’ Ruth said. ‘Then tomorrow we’ll ride Freyja somewhere warmer. If your father wants to find us, he will do.’

‘But Pa said to stay here.’

‘Well, he can’t expect us to stay with the cold weather coming in, and there’s very little food here. He’ll understand.’

‘How will he know where we’ve gone? We can’t leave him a note.’

‘We can leave him a message. He’ll just have to find someone else who can read it for him. Hopefully, when he turns up Edgar or Josef will be with him.’

‘Why hasn’t Edgar come?’ Daisy asked, scratching her nails against the waxy, green crayon. Ruth pulled it from her hands.

‘Don’t do that, they were expensive. I don’t know.’

Daisy began to draw wiggly lines under the words in the paper, the yellowing pages now being covered with purple, red and blue. She looked back up, ‘Ok.’

‘I’ve always promised to tell you the truth, haven’t I?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, I would tell you, if I knew where your father was, if I knew where Edgar was or if I knew where anyone was.’

Daisy carefully put her red crayon down on the page, then began to put the crayons back in the little tin she kept all her priceless possessions in. A dried daisy flower from Edgar, a blue-green marble she had found in Blackwater and a yellow, silk ribbon dotted with daisies that Ruth had brought her for her birthday last year.

Not for the first time, Ruth felt the twinge of guilt that always followed when seeing the few treasured items in Daisy’s tin. She wanted to give Daisy a home, a proper home with her own bedroom and toys, clothes that fit her properly, a warm fireplace and a door that could be locked and bolted shut.

‘Dinner will take a while, Sweetpea, you don’t have to put away your things just yet.’

‘Oh,’ Daisy said once more. ‘Well, can I help?’

‘There ain’t much to do, rabbit will be done in a bit.’

Daisy pulled up the newspaper and sat down in front of Ruth. The girl squinted at it with her light blue eyes in the low light, and began to read aloud the main story, sounding out the words she was unfamiliar with. ‘Bank boat… he… he--is--t? Ma, what’s a he--is--t?’

‘A he--is--t?’ Ruth glanced down at the newspaper, trying to figure out what her daughter was looking at. ‘Oh, a heist. It means a robbery.’

‘Like what Pa does?’

‘Yes,’ she looked back down to the story, to see if it was the Anderson Boys who were involved, but as she read, it became clear it was about the Van Der Linde Gang rather than her own. She frowned at the idea of still claiming the gang as her own. Evidently Anderson was not too heart-broken about her disappearance, despite how long she had been running with them. But then Anderson often called her a damned fool for getting in the family way and hadn’t exactly tried to keep her around. Perhaps it was better this way, to be abandoned and left to her own devices rather than trailing behind, trying to pretend that the group she had once called her family still cared for her.

The rabbit was done… charred on the outside, bloody in the middle. But when had that ever bothered her? Certainly, Daisy had learnt long ago that an empty belly was a far worse fate than a dissatisfied one. She tried to get Daisy to part with a bit of the newspaper, so she could lay the best bits on it for her and cause less of a mess when using her fingers to tear at the meat.

While Ruth gnawed at what remained on the bones, she checked their supplies. Two cans of beans, one can of peaches and a tin of crackers. They would share one tin of beans for their breakfast tomorrow, then they would have to hope she could catch or kill something for their midday meal, and assuming she could find the way, arrive in Valentine by four or five. She was banking on the weather being good, and the roads clear, otherwise it could take them longer and she had no desire to spend a cold night in unfamiliar woods.

She packed away the supplies, then made sure the repeater and pistols she carried were cleaned and loaded correctly. Ruth frowned on seeing how few bullets she had left in the box of ammo. This was going to be a rough few days. Every shot she could make would have to be perfect, no matter whether it was man or beast at the end of the sights.

She also double-checked how much money they had left, perhaps hoping the amount would increase on the next count. It would be better if she could get her daughter a warm bath and a hot meal when they arrived, even if she couldn’t afford a bed for the night. Ruth tried to not let the hiss of irritation pass between her lips. Anderson had always been insistent that any money made was money for the group, and while that had meant she could dip in and out of the funds box with relative ease, it had come back to bite her.

Her last job had pulled $150, but the vast majority of that had ended up in the box. Now she was looking at the grand total of ten years of loyalty and very few complaints from her, no matter how poorly her daughter was treated. She had $8.05.

‘We might have to do a coach job when we get to Valentine,’ she said.

Daisy pulled a face, a deep frown appearing on her forehead. ‘Do we have to?’

‘Do you want to eat?’

‘Can’t we just eat deer?’

‘No, it’s not good to eat nothing but meat.’

‘But I’m getting bigger now. I don’t want to pretend to be a little kid who cries.’

‘You just have to put your hands over your eyes and pretend. You’re so good at it! And it means Mama doesn’t have to shoot anyone.’

Ruth finished the last bits of rabbit on her side of the newspaper and looked at the peaches, tempted to break into them and at least give her daughter something sweet to eat. But there was no guarantee they would even reach Valentine tomorrow, especially with how strong the wind was howling and how quickly the temperature was dropping.

Daisy nestled closer under the blanket and picked up some more of the rabbit. ‘Who have you shot, Mama?’

‘Lots of people, who wanted to hurt me or you, Edgar or Josef or Anders.’

‘And Pa?’

Ruth wiped her dirty hands on her handkerchief, leaving streaks of grease on the discoloured material. She avoided her daughter’s eye as she replied, ‘Sure, your Pa too.’ In her head she found herself thinking, ‘wish I hadn’t bothered, bastard didn’t deserve my protection.’

She used a corner of the newspaper to clean the grease away from Daisy’s mouth, then grabbed a comb from her bag. She sat Daisy on her lap and began to gently untangle the knots at the end of her hair, before working upwards to the crown of her head and brushing through Daisy’s beautiful, golden brown hair.

At first, admittedly, it had hurt to see how much Daisy took after her father in looks, but they couldn’t be more different. Whilst her father was dismissive, callous and cowardly, Daisy was sweet, kind and brave. Braver than most kids her age, though Ruth wished she didn’t have to be.

She carefully plaited Daisy’s long hair, admiring the soft strands between her fingers, and finished off their little ritual by giving her a kiss on her cheek and then tickling her ribs. Daisy squealed and giggled, trying to bat away Ruth’s hands and yet still cuddling close once she was done.

‘Still little enough for that then?’ Ruth asked.

‘Hmph,’ came her daughter’s response and Ruth hid her smile. She felt torn, part of her was excited to see how much her daughter would change and grow over the years. But another part longed to go back to when she had been a baby, when her cheeks had been round and soft, and Ruth had easily spent the best part of her days pressing kisses to them. What did it matter that Frans was fucking whores and spending his money on drink and cards, when she had a baby in her arms, whose steady, sweet eyes gazed up at her with all the adoration and love she needed?

Another part, a part she tried not to think about, was terrified. What kind of a life was this for a child? Running from the law, hiding in abandoned houses and cabins, stealing and cheating to keep them both fed? This life was dangerous for anyone at the best of times, but for a child even more so. Daisy’s young age would not stop the law from punishing her, no matter how little choice she had in growing up in a gang and running schemes with her mother. But it was either involve Daisy, or leave her in a cave or up a tree, and that didn’t necessarily mean she was any safer, especially if someone were to find her.

She pushed away those thoughts; it wasn’t helpful to dwell on their situation. She hoped to be a good moral guide later in life for her daughter, but right now she would have to continue to be a hypocrite.

‘Bed time, Daisy,’ she said.

Daisy didn’t make a word of protest, as she was occasionally keen on doing, and took off her boots, before climbing into Ruth’s bedroll. Ruth joined her; it was too cold for their separate beds. While Daisy snuggled up against her, pulling the cover over head, Ruth threw their last remaining wood on the fire.

She grabbed her pistol and repeater, leaving the repeater next to the bedroll, but holding the pistol tightly. She kept her eyes on the front door, which they blocked with the dining table during the evenings. She had moved the wardrobe from the main bedroom to block the back door, and so felt comfortable enough to sleep with their backs to it.

She did her best to keep her eyes open, resisting sleep for as long as possible, until she drifted off and then woke with a sudden jolt to find the piercing, white light of a new day filtering between the bits of rotten wood and around the edge of the door.

#arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x ofc #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfic #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #own female character #vdl gang

14 notes · View notes

allonsyroleplaythings · 3 years ago

Text

Triston Vause

Birth Date: Blessed Age 8:98, 3rd Month of Drakonis, 19th Day Birth Place/Home-town: Anderfels Relationship Status: Complicated Sexuality: Straight Occupation: Apostate Class: Battlemage Personality

He has a sense of nobility to help others, to want to do the right thing even if it gets him in trouble or puts him at odds with others. Sometimes he thinks back to the decision to run with Amell, and wonders if he could have done more if he'd stayed, fought harder, tried anything that might have prevented so many mages and Templars from dying. He isn't the type of guy who usually escapes or runs away, so he really dwells on that at times. He doesn't like letting people down, especially those he actually cares about, which isn't easy for him. Even though it was Amell that left him, in his eyes it was still him that let her down, if he'd just pushed harder for her to stay, been more observant, tried anything, even if it would have been fruitless he still struggles with all the what ifs and coulda woulda shouldas. He tries too hard to protect people he cares about to the point that he sometimes just ends up pushing them away or making shit worse. He broods a lot like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn't like to share that burden for fear of putting people in danger. He doesn't always express his feelings easily, or sometimes at all. It's hard for him to admit when he likes someone, let alone when he loves them. He holds a lot locked inside, and sometimes people who don't know him might see him as cold and heartless, even though that is far from the truth. He is just really good at compartmentalising his feelings in order to get through each day and do what he has to do to survive. Post Un-tranquilled

Since being un-tranquilled in the last few weeks, he has been crawling out of his skin, all the emotions hitting him at once has him in turmoil and he isn't sure if he should be angry at the world or happy or sad, all he knows is that he went from feeling nothing to feeling too much and he is having a hard time processing it all. History

Triston was born in the Hossberg, capital of the Anderfels, as the middle child of three, he had an older brother and a younger brother. When Triston was 11 and only starting to show signs of being a mage, his older mage brother got in trouble with the law, which wasn't unusual for the then 17 year old Macklyn. After an incident that resulted in the death of a merchant, a Templar and two other mages, he was sentenced to death, but a warden came through and revoked his right to take Macklyn as a warden initiate. That was the last time Triston saw his older brother (to this day he isn't sure if he's alive or dead after the events of the fifth blight). When Triston was 15 he went to the Circle, he hoped his younger brother would not have to deal with being a mage, but Alcide joined five years later. Triston always felt he had to look out for his younger brother. Alcide wasn't quite the troublemaker that Macklyn had been, but at times it felt like he was a powder keg that could go off at any moment. Alcide was as quick to start fights as he was to finish him, and he had a jokester streak that could come out any time without warning, leaving him always in a bit of trouble with the Templars and even the other mages. The little things passed over without much consequence, but things started to escalate, and Triston started to take the blame for some things to try and continue to protect Alcide. Finally things went too far and a mage ended up dead, a Templar severely wounded, from a prank that Alcide had caused. Triston tried to take the blame as usual, but the First Enchanter had suspected for awhile that the true culprit was Alcide and Triston was just protecting him. Finally the first enchanter had enough and transferred Triston to Kinloch Hold. Triston was 27 at the time. This was where he first met Amell, a young 17 year old headstrong mage. At first he saw her as a young child, being ten years older than her. It didn't help that he wasn't happy about being transferred there and was rather broody. The broody moods were really just masking the worry and guilt he had for not being there to protect his brother any more. Over time Triston and Amell became reasonable friends, nothing significantly more happened while they were there however, until things started going hinky around them. Triston wasn't entirely sure WHAT was going on in the circle, but his gut didn't like it. They managed to escape just shortly before shit really blew up at Kinloch Hold. This led to a life on the run, the next five or so years they moved as often as they could to avoid being caught by the Templars. Triston's Phylactery had been destroyed, but he didn't know that Amell's hadn't and that she could still be tracked. Over time while on the run, they started to grow, well closer, not necessarily romantically closer, but definitely physically closer. What went from just friends on the run, turned to friends with benefits that both seemed to enjoy quite a lot. Eventually Amell heard her Phylactery was being used to track her and drag her back to a circle. She decided to take it upon herself to leave in the middle of the night, with only a vague note for Triston, not a proper explanation at all. Triston wasn't sure what to feel, anger, hurt, resentment in how she'd left things, worry for her well-being. A hundred things were flooding his brain, thoughts, feelings he'd been trying to ignore ever since they'd been on the run together. He made the decision to go after her, though he had no idea how long it would take to find her. He also had no idea that she was being tracked, and by going after her, he was putting himself right between her and those tracking her. He searched for over a year but Amell always seemed to be at least two steps ahead of him. Eventually he followed a lead to Kirkwall, just prior to the rebellion turning the city into a giant shit storm. He stuck around to help the other mages, and during the rebellion he ended up injured. Eventually he was found by Someone who took him in and helped nurse him back to health. Once he was

good enough to travel he made plans to leave Kirkwall and go back to tracking Amell. Sadly a group of Templars that were trying to restore order in Kirkwall, found him. In the process of trying to get away from them he killed two Templars. Instead of putting him to death, they decided to make him tranquil. The next three years of his life he spent in Kirkwall, captive tranquil of the Templars there who were trying desperately to restore order. Recently Amell tracked him down and with the help of Anders they have managed to un-tranquil him. The whole being un-tranquilled thing has him out of sorts and addled, all the emotions hitting him at once, he feels like he's crawling out of his skin and plans to leave Kirkwall for anywhere other than there. Amell needs to stay behind, so they are parting ways, for now. Kahlan Amell

He is quite possibly falling in love with Amell, or definitely was when she left him in the middle of the night, though he didn't realise his feelings for her until after she left. With everything that went wrong during the time he looked for her, now things are a bit fucked up. He is un-tranquilled and his feelings, about everything, that happened before being tranquilled, while tranquilled and everything in between have come rushing back. He's confused, overwhelmed, and as far as where things stand with him and Amell, everything is up in the air. Abilities

Battlemage, also fights really well with a sword, he likes to combine magic with sword fighting. Pissing off Kahlan Amell, annoying her when he calls her Laney, a nickname he came up with that she hates. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting into trouble. Helping others.

#dragon age inquisition #roleplay #oc #mage #tristan #charlie hunnam

1 note · View note

antivan-beau · 4 years ago

Note

51-54, give me your headcanons

Aww thanks, Auby!! I decided to lean in and had a lot of fun with these.

51. Favorite Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor headcanons (any or all)?

GOSH, this is so broad! I’ll go with some HCs for my characters that are a little unusual and/or contradict things established in canon.

Beatrice Cousland - Morrigan performs the dark ritual with Alistair without Beatrice’s knowledge or consent. For those unfamiliar with Beatrice’s story, she and Morrigan get a slowburn romance throughout the events of Origins that has a pretty different trajectory from Morrigan’s canon romance. On the eve of the final battle, Morrigan proposes the ritual, and Beatrice flatly refuses to ask Alistair to go through with it. She is perfectly content to sacrifice herself, do her duty as a Grey Warden, etc, plus she argues that this ritual is just a final way for Flemeth to exert control over Morrigan’s life. But Morrigan can’t bear to lose Beatrice, and she feels she has very legitimate reasons for wanting an Old God Baby that her lawful good gf doesn’t understand. So after Beatrice falls asleep, Morrigan sneaks out and convinces Alistair herself. Beatrice is shocked and upset when she makes the final blow and lives through it. Her time during Awakening is spent with Big Angst trying to figure out why Morrigan would go behind her back, why she would leave afterword, and how the heck is Beatrice gonna find her swamp witch gf again.

Edric Surana - By the end of Origins, my boy’s personality is 50% mage rights, 30% wanderlust, and 20% spite. He has no desire to stick around and be Warden-Commander. He can’t bear to be told what to do or to give other people orders anymore. He also shirks his duty because he and his BFF, unhardened King Alistair, end the game on tense terms, since Alistair doesn’t want to be king and Edric thinks he needs to suck it up. After Edric survives killing the archdemon (in this worldstate, Morrigan’s ritual is very much an awkward act of wlw/mlm solidarity), Edric and Zevran leave for Antiva together. Edric is an active participant in Zevran’s quest to hunt down and kill Crow masters, which pleases them both immensely. I’ve got a vague idea that Edric actually shows up in Kirkwall with Zev during the events of DA2.

Anias Hawke - like many Hawkes, she is a disaster, but I think in her own special ways. She goes from “bright-eyed refugee trying to do the right thing” to “overtired bureaucrat/public figure, constantly thwarted at doing the right thing” to “washed-up celebrity who spends too much time drinking with Isabela on weeknights and Aveline on weekends.” Probably my most unusual headcanon about her is that I simply rewrote the whole end of Act 2 / beginning of Act 3 because I was so mad she didn’t immediately get to have a follow-up conversation with Isabela about stealing and returning the Tome of Koslun. Anias is doggedly persistent and simply would chase Isabela to the city gates if she had to. This short, kind of mediocre fix-it dialogue was my earliest foray into DA fanfic, before I even knew there was an active fandom :’)

Bastien Adaar - Only 15 hours into my first playthrough of this game, so everything about Bastien is subject to change! I’ve been toying with the idea of roleplaying her as a faithful Andrastean who genuinely thinks she might be the chosen one? I don’t see that much with Inquisitors, especially with an Adaar, so I’m trying it out and seeing where it gets me.

52. Favorite non-Player Character headcanons?

Kirkwall feels so lived-in! My brain is full of specific ideas for the ways the DA2 companions spend their time away from Hawke’s missions. Merrill spending time with Alienage kids and telling them Dalish stories about elven heroes :’) Anders’ clinic is always busy, but every day is a different adventure - delivering babies, curing food poisoning, unexpected veterinarian queries that he’s 100% unqualified to answer but he’s so beloved by Darktown residents that people go to him, anyway. Fenris devotes serious time to learning to read, but I also like to think (after a particular Sebastian party banter) that he decides to teach Alienage elves how to fight. Aveline on the slow, tragic slide from ‘daily city patrols’ to ‘daily office paperwork.’

53. That One Headcanon that hurts to think about?

I love thinking about Taliesen and Zevran re-meeting in Denerim. I HC that Taliesen still has “yeah, we’re best friends! also, would definitely still sleep with you if you asked” feelings for Zevran. But since Zev’s actually experienced some personal freedom + healthy relationships by this point, his feelings about Taliesen are complicated at best. You know when you’ve grown and changed a lot, but somebody from your past shows up, and they haven’t changed at all? And they still have all their old flaws and lame ambitions? Must be an incredibly bittersweet moment for Zev - confronting his changed circumstances and how much he’s grown, but also confronting the realization that he doesn’t have any choice about killing his other lover, too.

54. Fluffiest headcanon ever?

Gosh… everything about Beatrice and Morrigan after the events of Origins’ DLCs. When they finally meet up again, perhaps a year or two after Witchunt, they are finally able to admit the depth and complexity of their feelings, and begin to reconcile their very different worldviews. They settle down in Orlais together, they’re very good moms to Kieran, Beatrice hangs out around the Orlesian court being a chill knight, probably stealing kisses with Morrigan in alcoves that aren’t as private as they think. I commissioned art of them at this point in their lives just to indulge my desire for fluff.

#ask meme #edric surana #beatrice cousland #anias hawke #bastien adaar

4 notes · View notes

glowyjellyfish · 4 years ago

Text

I just started rewatching Battlestar Galactica. Well, when i say just started, I mean i started two nights ago and I just finished season 1, so.

Firstly, at the beginning everyone is a tiny innocent baby and a sweet summer child (yes, even after their civilization gets destroyed. Sweet summer children all.), except Starbuck who is more of a tiny magnificent chaotic asshole.

Secondly, Baltar is one of my favorites and I think he’s among the best characters I have ever seen. His character development is phenomenal; I’d say he’s a stunning example of a redemption arc, but I’m not sure it totally counts when he was never really a villain at all. Arrogant, self-serving, and dickish, yes, but never deliberately evil. I love watching him break down and get built back up again, it’s a highly entertaining and often poignant roller coaster. And of course, he’s also just a delight to watch. I wish something like this had come up on the show, but I am convinced that people in the fleet--especially on Galactica and Colonial One--are well aware that he talks to himself and frequently disassociates, and chalk it up to trauma from being on Caprica during the attack. Sometimes I like to think that he 100% has that trauma and some degree of PTSD and Head Six took advantage of that state to set herself up in his head, but I’m not sure whether to make that headcanon or if it’s just a nice theory.

Thirdly, Gaeta is my favorite and I love him to pieces. The first time I watched when it first aired waaaay back in the day, I was rooting so hard for him to be a cylon, and I’m still slightly bummed that he wasn’t. I can’t complain about what he got as a consolation prize, going out with a bang and loads of juicy character development, with the added bonus that Anders also got some great character development. (Um, I should probably explain real quick that I read somewhere back in the day that when the writers were choosing the Final Five, it was kind of a toss-up between Anders and Gaeta, and they chose Anders. I felt validated that he was at least at the top of the list, and since I also loved cylon!Anders it proved to be a pretty good second choice for me. Believe me though, I wrote so many fanfics about how Gaeta might still be a cylon somehow, most of them super bad.) His whole development arc is less of a roller coaster and more of a long slow painful train wreck, and it’s gonna hurt so much but ugh I love it. Right now, at the end of season one, he is still such a sweet summer child, like my god he still has a crush on Baltar and hasn’t been disillusioned yet! And turns out I still firmly ship it. Gaeta’s got such a crush, poor boy, and it was so sweet and destroyed my little shipper heart at the end of Six Degrees of Separation when after a whole episode of everyone turning on Baltar and telling him they never trusted him and him freaking out, Gaeta came along and exonerated Baltar and told him he always believed in him. Awwww New Caprica’s gonna kill me, I swear.

Chief and Tigh are also up there in terms of my favorites, and there’s always gonna be something wonderful about a rewatch and all those scenes where they’re talking about people being Cylons and suspecting people of being Cylons and hey guess what you two. Guess what.

On this rewatch, I really enjoyed seeing Lee acting as the compromise between the military and politics. I vaguely recall that that’s a major part of his character going forward, basically everything that isn’t Starbuck, father issues, or Love Quadrangle Of Doom, and am curious how I’m gonna see it now. Originally, I found him good for a hero character and reasonably interesting, and I seem to recall liking such plots as him quitting the military way more than other viewers, but he’s never been one of my favorites.

...I also feel obliged to point out that in these trying times it is very hard not to 100% agree with Tom Zarek. If he was a little less murdery, man. Of course, I should also point out that unlike some other viewers--no, I don’t remember specifics, I probably read opinions on a forum 15 years ago--I felt like the season 4 mutiny was bringing up some extremely valid points that needed to be addressed (even if Zarek was mostly using them as an excuse to coast to power and Gaeta was airing his grievances in the worst possible way when what he probably actually really needed was a lot of intense therapy) so perhaps this is nothing new.

I’m also excited and scared for the President Baltar plot coming later, but in these times I am fairly certain my feelings will be “you guys are big babies. Oh boo hoo, your legally elected president is genuinely intelligent and charismatic and just happens to be rather self-centered and self-serving and shitty at governing, oh noooo he had to be held at gunpoint to sign death warrants for dissenters… grow up.” I… can’t take most “super evil villain becomes president oh no” stories seriously anymore, literally all the ones I am aware of were better than reality.

I don’t feel like it needs to be said, but Starbuck, Roslin, and Adama? All perfect and amazing, of course. They’re not my favorites, but that’s mainly because they are popular main characters, and I tend to prefer unpopular sideline characters and characters that need defending or merit lengthy essays. Everyone loves those guys for good reason, they don’t need me supporting them.

Also I forgot how precious Dee and Billy were, and how their relationship added interesting layers and angles to loads of plotlines. Makes me bummed about Billy (though I know it wasn’t the show’s fault), and then bummed that Dee got entangled in the Love Quadrangle of Doom, and then… kinda fridged to be honest. I wonder what would have happened with the Final Five if Billy was still around, would it have been Billy there instead of Tory? Or to keep the gender ratio and a touch of diversity, would they have gone with Dee? Would that have made them more or less likely to choose Gaeta over Anders, then? My gut says less, but who knows? It sure would have been rad if Dee got that much character development unrelated to romance, though.

It’s also weird how much I still keep trying to add things to the show’s arc and mythology to make it make more sense to me, personally. Like, logically I know that the whole thing is that god as spoken of by the cylons is 100% real, the head characters are literally communicating with people on his behalf, the opera house is the CIC and all the prophecies and stuff are leading to humans and cylons living together and interbreeding on Earth to make us. But I’m constantly trying to add things like “maybe the lords of kobol were twelve or thirteen original cylons on kobol 2000 years ago, and maybe they’re the head characters, like they ascended their physical bodies or something, and maybe the physical characters who look like the head characters are like the reincarnations of them or of the original humans they were modelled on, and the whole story is very similar and playing out again which is why certain characters have visions and stuff, but there have never been human/cylon hybrids before and that’s what god wants in order to end the cycle and/or because god is love god wants them to love each other and stop killing each other please? Maybe?” Shrug, I know some fans hate how spiritual it went, and I’m not one of them. I just prefer the slightly more humanist angle of reincarnation over literally just “god did it”.

However, I am really enjoying just taking Head Six 100% at her word and watching her manipulate the fucking shit out of Baltar to get him reliant on her and in the position she needs him to be in. It’s kind of amazing. And also, fascinating to consider Leoben in Flesh and Bone in the context of knowing what happens to Starbuck. He absolutely knows that she’s going to lead them all to Earth and die in the process. I don’t think he knows any details at all, but it’s really interesting to watch assuming that he knows her fate. And I am not sure the show ever really explained why Leoben knows this stuff. Does he have visions? His own head person? Does he just sit and listen real hard to the Hybrids and interpret their sayings? ...I guess I do find it weird that the show chose to go so hard on making him creepy as fuck to her on New Caprica, and then apparently didn’t know a lot else they wanted to do with him, but we’ll see how I feel as it goes along.

Anyway, I think I’ve exhausted my most coherent array of thoughts.

#bsg #battlestar galactica #bsg spoilers

6 notes · View notes

taki118 · 6 years ago

Text

Fenabela the looked over ship (a DA2 meta)

~~slight TW: mentions of abuse~~

Fenabela is one of those things often pushed to the side in the Dragon Age fandom, I find. Despite being a cannon ship there aren’t many fics or art dedicated to the pair. This is especially noted when compared to Adoribull (and the fact that the personalities of Dorian and Bull parallel Fenris and Isabela)

Now part of this is of course taste, most people having dubbed Isabela their wife or Fenris their husband and disliking pairing them with anyone other than Hawke or shipping with other npcs. To each their own I realize not everyone can multiship.

However I have noted a few general misconceptions or certain readings that get passed around and a few critics on the narrative that really need to addressed.

And I will display and counter these things here so strap in. (Obligatory sex joke)

Before that I want to state it is not my intention to tell anyone what they can and can’t ship. However I have found a good deal of unwarranted hate towards this ship and wish to defend it and explain why one might ship it. I do greatly enjoy this pair but I will do my best to remain objective.

I don’t like the characters

Of course if you don’t like characters involved in a ship you won’t like it. But Fenris and Isabela are often misunderstood or misread so I’ll go over some things for each quickly.

Fenris

Generally speaking Fenris is the fan favorite of DA2 (and I think a surprise one to the BioWare crew as I’m fairly certain they thought Anders would be the most popular).

However if you aren’t a fan of the broody archetype you likely won’t like him at least for half the game, towards the end he grows to be more relaxed and open.

Another general issue with him is his hatred of mages and support of the Chantry. While his feelings are understandable it can get grating. But again this softens as the game goes on if you weren’t an ass to him by the end he is willing to put his own issues to the back to protect mages and even stating he respects Mage Hawke or Bethany indicating mages who prove themselves to be humble and strong willed are able to earn his trust.

Isabela

Now Isabela is, at least I’ve found to be, one of the more polarizing and misunderstood characters in Dragon Age, and as such I’ll do a more in-depth meta on her at a later date. But here are some common things noted in regards to this ship.

People often think Isabela is a selfish bitch who doesn’t care about anyone but herself. However this is only if you don’t learn about her. The best quote I can give is from Act 3 between her and Anders.

Anders: I always knew you had a heart of gold

Isabela: shush don’t tell anyone.

Isabela has lived a life where she was shown that no good deed goes unpunished and as such tries to hide this aspect of herself. You gotta remember the whole reason she did the Qunari job is because she couldn’t go through with bringing slaves to Tevinter and was forced to steal the tome as compensation.

It wasn’t built up/rushed

Now I can’t be certain on this as I obviously don’t work for BioWare but it should be noted that:

1- this was the first time BioWare had a Love Interest romance and likely wasn’t sure about how much they should do. The next one was Talibrations in Mass Effect 3 that had around the same level build up followed by Adoribull that was given more time to develop naturally.

2- It seems like they wanted to do more but with the notorious 2 year time crunch by EA couldn’t. You can see this in the purposely added dialogue for them in dlc

Of course I am only guessing here but given this it sort of makes sense why it is the way it is. they were likely trying to find a balance between believable and non intrusive that was later utilized better in DAI but you gotta start somewhere.

Fenris doesn’t like Isabela or her flirting

I just um ok this is just so wrong I’m sorry I’m trying to be objective and shit but like come on.

So I know the line most go to, to prove this it’s

Fenris: From what I gather, you like a lot of things.

Isabela: Nonsense. But when I see something I like, I go after it.

Fenris: I suggest keeping your distance.

BUT that’s only if Fenris is romancing Hawke if he isn’t the banter is instead

Fenris: From what I gather, you like a lot of things.

Isabela: Nonsense. But when I see something I like, I go after it.

Fenris: Do you intend to go after me, then?

Isabela: Will you take off all that spiky armor you're wearing?

Fenris: It's been known to happen.

That’s a big tone difference isn’t it. In the first version he pushes her away as he’s interested in Hawke currently but in the second he’s flirting right back.

While yes in Act 1 he’s unsure and unused to her flirting but by Act 2 he’s willingly playing along. I mean he wouldn’t offer to play “Guess the color of my underclothes” with her if he didn’t enjoy it. It’s a safe way for Fenris to explore his sexuality and the only reason he tells her to back off at that time is because he’s serious about pursuing Hawke.

And no matter what Fenris respects her if only for one thing

Fenris: So you freed a group of slaves?

Isabela: Would-be slaves. They weren't slaves yet.

Fenris: Still, you did the right thing. Many would turn a blind eye.

Isabela: Don't read too much into it, all right? It just seemed a good idea at the time.

Like fundamentally I don’t think Fenris can hate someone who freed slaves.

It’s toxic/just about sex

I feel like this is more a jab at Isabela but again it’s over simplifying her character. Because here’s the thing most people over look when saying this ship is toxic for Fenris cause he’s a sexual abuse survivor ISABELA IS ONE TOO.

Isabela doesn’t really talk of her past much but from the dialogue given in game and tie in material we do know that

- her husband Louis purchased her from her mother young in the 10-13 age range

- he likely intended to groom her to be his perfect bride what with the lessons, gifts and such

- he forced himself on her and when isabela rebelled against him it’s implied he either did or was going to allow his friends to do so as well. To again let me reiterate a girl young enough to be his daughter.

Regardless of what exactly happened this did effect Isabela just in a different way. Isabela took autonomy of her body back once he was dead. Look some survivors of traumatic experiences are terrified of ever encountering it again but others continuously face the action head on to refuse it power, both are valid ways to deal with it. One is just less noticeable/sympathetic.

This line of thinking also ignores that literally the first intimate thing Fenris does when he enters a relationship with Hawke is have sex. They don’t ease into it just bam sex, but I have yet to see a Fenhawke is toxic hot take. which I mean I could make easily. Don’t believe me?

In the act 2 romance scene Fenris is angry, raw and emotional and taking it out on Hawke verbally before psychically pushing Hawke against a wall. when Fenris realizes what he’s done and pulls back Hawke immediately kisses him and they have sex. I could say Hawke took advantage of Fenris in his emotional state for their own sexual gratification. I don’t actually believe that but I could claim it. if you’re thinking that’s insane, you are correct but that’s the point it is very easy to twist things to fit a narrative if you really want to.

Now you might be thinking “Well it’s different Isabela just wants to use Fenris for sex” and if you think sex is just sex with Isabela you haven’t been paying attention.

Again I’ll go more into this with my isabela meta but to her sex is safe, it can’t hurt her but people can so she keeps them at arms length. With sex she can get the pyshical closeness she craves while keeping her feelings locked away in one night stands/flings. So the fact that she WANTS to continue seeing Fenris almost immediately after their first tour below deck is telling. And the fact he wants to continue just as much shows the relationship is as much his choice as it is hers.

And speaking of sex...

the memory plot hole

The main confusion I see people have with this ship is the Fenris gets memories after sex bit. And I get why it’s kinda vague but let me assure you it’s not a plot hole.

When you romance Fenris in Act 2 he leaves after having sex with Hawke due to memories returning and being unable to handle them. The confusion I see is often “so what sex with Hawke was so good it gave Fenris memories but not Isabela?” Or “why is it only Hawke?” The answer, it’s just a matter of timing.

The scene in question with Hawke only takes place in Act 2 but Fenris and Isabela don’t hook up until Act 3 and those three years in between make all the difference.

Act 2 Fenris has been free from Danarious(I will not spell his name right sorry) for at least 6 years but he’s still controlled by the man. He’s pissed at the lack of leads and when he gets one demands you go after it immediately and will straight up leave the party if you take too long. The reason is twofold he wants revenge and he’s afraid.

Fenris has only just started to carve out a life for himself in Kirkwall but he’s terrified that whatever life he has there will be torn away by Darnarious. Cause it’s happened before. So when he engages with Hawke and he’s flooded with these mostly happy memories it’s too much. He can’t handle it, at that time.

In just three years Fenris becomes a much more open and relaxed person. by Act 3 he has weekly card nights with Varric and Donnic, willingly helps Aveline and is even more relaxed about mages. The idea that he once had a life and a family before Danarious and that he can have one now isn’t as daunting or impossible to him as it was in Act 2.

It’s not that he doesn’t get the memories when sleeping with Isabela it’s only that he’s now in a place where he can handle them. Had Hawke the option to tell Fenris to take things slow in Act 2 the pair likely would not have separated. However that’s not what happened Fenris thought that he could handle it but couldn’t as he was in Act 2.

Don’t believe well Fenris himself says so to Hawke in Act 3 when asked why he left.

Fenris: the pain, the memories it brought up... it was too much. I was coward. If I could go back I would stay.

I’m not surprised people either missed or didn’t pick on this bit it happens late in the game and it is entirely possible to miss this branch of dialogue but it’s there and confirms what I stated. It’s not a plot hole only a matter of timing. Hawke had bad timing Isabela didn’t.

By Act 3 he’s in a better place mentally and is able to feel okay with the memories, with intimacy and with the idea of having a life. Whether or not Fenris and Isabela are serious about the relationship is irrelevant (though I head cannon they tell themselves it’s just a fling only to still be together years later) it’s the fact that he feels he can engage in this fashion with someone that’s important.

It should have been Isabela x Merrill

Now I can’t argue with people’s taste that’s ridiculous and I can see the appeal they’re cute. However it’s not something they could simply put in the game like Fenabela.

Let me explain. The reason it works in DA2 is cause it’s a light, flirty and fun type relationship and even if you don’t ship it, the idea is easy to chew off. If you play through their romances the idea that the two characters with huge trusts issues hooking up for fun isn’t that hard to buy.

Merrill however would require more than a couple teasing lines of dialogue. The reason being her romance plot.

The first thing Merrill says after having sex with Hawke is “I love you” if you don’t think Isabela would freak out at that and jump on the first boat she could find I don’t know but I’d like to hear your reasoning.

It takes Isabela a long ass time to be ok with saying and being told that with Hawke. It’s a big part of her romance arc.

Sooooo if one were to play through both their romances then play a game where they got together off screen it would require more dialogue than what Fenabela got otherwise it’d be a far bigger plot hole issue as the pair do not move at the same emotional speed.

Like I can’t see Merrill being into having a casual fling even by Act 3 and I can’t see Isabela being ok with a serious relationship either without a good deal of added dialogue and scenes.

Now this one is the most subjective part of the meta, I’m well aware, but with how BioWare handles their side romances Isabela x Merrill just could not be folded into the narrative as easily as Fenabela and likely would have been too intrusive for those uninterested in side romances.

So we’ve covered the main misconceptions and complaints on the ship. now to get into why Fenabela does work, and why people like this ship.

Their romances parallel each other

Something I noticed about the Kirkwall crew (and I might make a meta on it damn I got so many things to write) is that they each parallel and reflect each other (which is one of the reasons I dislike the Sebastian addition cause he kinda screws it up)

Aveline and Varric:

- Both are non romanceable

- Need Hawkes help to sort out their personal lives

- Both thrive in the friendship Hawke gives them

Merrill and Anders:

- both thirsty AF for Hawke and immediately move in

- both have blinders on in regards to their goals and ideals, Merrill with the mirror and Anders with well you know

- this also causes problems for both in their relationships with Hawke

So then we have Fenris and Isabela

- both wear a mask of indifference in Act 1 that is peeled away by Hawke in Act 3

- both runaway/try to distance themselves from Hawke and their relationship in Act 2 only to renew it in Act 3

- and both NEED to feel they can trust Hawke in order to move forward

Now unlike Merrill and Anders who’s conflict with Hawke is mostly situational (ie were it not for the mirror and being in Kirkwall aka mage torture capital of the free marches, there would be no problem) Fenris and Isabela’s conflicts are purely emotional and an emotion they share

Leading us to

They are damaged in similar ways

The main conflicts in their romances is fear.

A fear of happiness and a fear of love.

They both think that if they were to get that which they desire most they’d lose it or it’d be used against them or most of all they aren’t deserving of it and will never receive it.

And this is entirely because of what happened to them in life prior to arriving in Kirkwall.

They lived lives where love and happiness were things that could be used against them. A weakness to exploit or a reward to be taken away. So it makes sense that for their romance arcs they have to have trust to believe this love and happiness with Hawke is worth the risk.

So it’s safe to say that we’re they not romanced by Hawke it’s only natural they’d be drawn to one another. We often look for similarities in our partners sometimes it’s in appearance, others it’s values but for them it’d be their shared pain and fear.

Hawke: you’re not afraid of being hurt you’re afraid of hurting someone else

Isabela: no I look it isn’t like that it’s just easier this way

Isabela: you were right. I wasn’t afraid of love I was afraid of being loved.

Fenris: I killed them all

Hawke: why would you do such a thing?

Fenris: I felt it inevitable. My master had returned and this...this fantasy life was over.

Fenris: I’m sorry. All I ever wanted was to be happy...just for a little while. Forgive me.

Its why they are implied to have a more casual relationship in Act 3 than they would with Hawke. Hawke doesn’t have the same issues with intimacy as they do thus would take longer. And there is an appeal to the idea of two people finding comfort and support in one another even if it’s only temporary.

Isabela = fog warriors

So this is something I literally just noticed as I was working on this meta but um the Fog Warriors who helped Fenris after he first was free of Danarious whom he speaks of fondly greatly resemble Isabela at least in the traits he describes that he seems to find the most appealing.

Fenris: I had grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom.

Fenris: I had only been with them a few months but in that time I had felt I truly lived. They were bold, strong, free with their affections. I was in awe of them.

Like let’s take what he says here out of context for a second.

He says he was in awe and felt truly alive with someone who was

- bold - strong - free with affection - rebellious

- defiant - strong sense of freedom

That kinda describes Isabelas base personality perfectly. I can’t state that this was intentional or even if Fenris was aware but it’s not a long shot to say that Fenris would be drawn and attracted to people like this for this reason.

Their banter is cute

I mean I know it’s subjective but they do have some great back and forth and if you enjoy flirty snarky people it opens up some great opportunities in fan fiction and such. Characters who play well off each other are always more desirable and they got a great wise guy/straight man thing going.

They spend more time than we know together

A thing that can be overlooked easily it that each act has about 3 years in between them making the total run in the game about 9 years. We know from banter that the various characters interact with each other regularly regardless of whether or not Hawke is there. (Something I wish they could do more if EA got their heads out of their asses and gave us re release!)

Anyway we know from these brief moments that

- Fenris lets isabela visit the mansion

- isabela helps him out from time to time

- she’s one of the few people who’s opinion on mages he considers

- they play cards and/or make bets with each other

- they interact enough that Varric takes notice in the MOA dlc

it’s again something that’s fun to play with in fiction.

To summarize

- it’s not toxic

- they like interacting with one another

- there is no plot hole

- it’s not just about sex

- they were the easiest to pair up on the side

- they parallel each other

- share similar fears and traumas

- their personalities are fun to play with for fans

Fenabela really does not deserve the hate or lack of care it gets from the fandom. It’s the story of two damaged people finding support in one another if only for a short time and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying that.

Again I’m not saying this ship is better than any other, I’m not trying to get you to jump ship all this meta is here for is to clear up some misconceptions and unwarranted hate, and bring some much needed spot light to this ship that is often overlooked.

Anyway I want to thank anyone who read through this whole thing for their time and if you’d like to discuss any points here with me please reblog with “makers breath” first and I’ll 100% be up for talking (if you didn’t bother to read and just want to rant at me I will ignore it) I plan on making more of these as well as finishing fics but this topic has weighed on me for some time.

#dragon age #da2 #fenris #da isabela #da fenris #fenabela #fenebela #fenris x isabela #meta #isabela #da #bioware

68 notes · View notes

doomonfilm · 5 years ago

Text

Thoughts : I Kill Giants (2017)

Graphic novel film adaptations are certainly not a new phenomenon... as far back as the 1980′s, filmmakers have found properties to transition from the page to the screen. As studios like Marvel and DC gain a stronger foothold in the film industry, however, there has been a surge of graphic novels that may have flown under the radar of most that have found new life via the silver screen. One of the more recent adaptations that has found itself at the center of much buzz is the modern day fantasy fairy-tale I Kill Giants.

Barbara (Madison Wolfe) lives with her brother Dave (Art Parkinson) and her older sister Karen (Imogen Poots), who cares for the two. In an attempt to escape her harsh family life, Barbara finds inspiration in two unique sources : the fantasy of Dungeons & Dragons, and the legend of former Phillies pitcher Harry Coveleski, known as ‘The Giant Killer’. Because of the fantasy world Barbara has created for herself, she finds herself isolated from her family and peers. One day, Barbara meets Sophia (Sydney Wade), a young British girl new to the states, and based on their connection, Barbara confides in Sophia that she is a giant killer and protector of their city. At school, Barbara is bullied constantly by Taylor (Rory Jackson), and her standoffish attitude keeps her in hot water with teachers and administration, but school counselor Mrs. Molle (Zoe Saldana) makes continuous attempts to breakthrough with Barbara in hopes of helping her find peace. Barbara’s fantasies are so vivid, however, that it keeps her in isolation from everyone, including those that try to help her. Sophia and Mrs. Molle make repeated attempts to help Barbara, however, ultimately forcing her to face her fantasies and reality in equal measure.

Director Anders Walter wisely uses the magic, mysticism and fantasy of Dungeons & Dragons-style turn-based games to present an escape mechanism from reality, even going so far as to use video games represent modern day in direct comparison during the film’s opening moments. That escapism is paralleled against an unappealing reality, where struggles, love and loss can be immensely painful, especially when you’re too young to have to deal with these things. Using escapism to hide pain and avoid facing hard truths gives the narrative forward thrust, with heavy symbolism coming from all angles that makes the initially vague story start to become clear as the viewer learns more about the situation.

The way the film captures the awkwardness and social anxiety of childhood, which is amplified when you’re considered an outcast, is pitch perfect. The struggles of a non-traditional, broken home family format are also shown with cutting reality, as vicious fights occur even when deeply unconditional love is present and attempts at clearing up misunderstandings fall short. The film does a great job of capturing the standoffish nature of misunderstood kids, and how hard it is for genuinely concerned adults to connect. The use of fantasy elements is perfect for the story, as belief so vivid in something nobody else understands that it leaves you alienated from all is a very real thing, though not in the fantastic nature presented by the film, obviously. In my opinion, this is possibly a film that can help children understand both sides of bullying.

The film uses a wonderfully muted color palette that allows visual variety while setting a proper mood on multiple levels. The fantasy sequences resemble moving comic images, specifically due to their stunning colors and visual textures. The presence of an exhilarating score that livens up as the fantasy ramps up keeps the viewer’s heart racing, adding to the experience. The feel of a film from the 1980′s or 1990′s is present, but the advantages of modern CGI enhance the experience in new ways. The heartfelt writing that addresses heavy issues with tact and grace deserves praise and recognition. ‘Uncomfortable’ cinematography is used well, as the camera tends to get intimate with the subjects rather than standing back and being observant.

Madison Wolfe gives an incredibly dynamic performance for someone so young, combining introspection, biting wit and bold determination together in the form of a mythic hero. Zoe Saldana provides unconditional love and support to a lost child, while trying her best to understand what seems very real to the Barbara character. Sydney Wade also brings an attempt at understanding to the table, but her childlike innocence and fear shine through her attempts to befriend the Barbara character. Imogen Poots displays the hurt of a child forced to deal with adult responsibilities, and perfectly embodies how painful that forced transition can be. Rory Jackson provides proper intimidation as a real-world antagonist for the Barbara character, with her imposing height, cold stare and sharp tongue sending chills down the viewer’s spine. Appearances by Art Parkinson, Jennifer Ehle, Don Wycherley, Sonya Kelly, Noel Clarke and more fill out the world of the narrative.

If someone were to take all of the best ideas of The NeverEnding Story, eliminate the fluff, and reposition the events that take place in the fantasy world into a strange middle ground of reality and fantasy, you’d have I Kill Giants. If this film doesn’t achieve some sort of cult classic status in the oncoming years, I’d be wholly surprised.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #AndersWalter #IKillGiants #ZoeSaldana #MadisonWolfe #ImogenPoots #SydneyWade #RoryJackson #ArtParkinson #NoelClarke #JenniferEhle #CiaraOCallaghan #JohnBoyle #DonWycherley #SonyaKelly

1 note · View note

fandomn00blr · 6 years ago

Text

Next chapter preview! (AKA another half of a chapter that I’m okay with but can’t figure out how to accomplish all the plot that still needs to happen in the second half of this chapter...)

---

It wasn’t hard to find some booze, a half-empty bottle that had been left on the table from dinner, more shitty wine that Isabela had inherited with the ship. They were beginning to run low on anything of quality, it seemed, unless Isabela was hoarding the good stuff in her own quarters, which seemed unlikely, since she could hardly tell the difference.

Hawke grabbed it first, taking a long swig in hopes of forgetting as quickly as possible how it had felt to be held again by someone who dreamt about having children with her, before handing the bottle over to Fenris.

“Sooo…” she said, as she so often used to do, while trying to think of something innocuous to talk to him about. Her lips quirked into a smile wondering how many times she’d said this exact same thing, in the exact same tone. It seemed ridiculous now, after all that they’d been through recently, to try to make small talk with him.

“Mmmm…” he muttered, as he almost always did in ritualistic response, half-heartedly hoping to dissuade her from attempting to engage him in idle chit chat, but expecting her to carry on with it anyway, as she usually did.

It was a familiar thing, being bothered by Hawke. And he realized it’d been one of the things he’d missed the most this past month as she moped around the ship, lost in her grief, though she’d been acting more and more like herself lately. Well, until Varric had to go and bring up her sister and Aveline earlier that day.

He gulped down as much of the rest of the wine as he could bear, then wiped it off his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust. It was really terrible. He looked at the label, just to make sure it wasn’t another one of Isabela’s surprise bottles from the maintenance cabinet. Nope. Wine, or so it claimed to be. Made from actual grapes. Orlesian, it seemed. Well, that explained it.

When Hawke remained silent, none of her usual questions prodding at him (“How’s the mansion?” or “Read any good books lately?” or “Have you heard from your sister?”), he looked up from the bottle, a bit surprised to see her half-smiling back at him, an inquisitive twinkle in her blue-green eyes.

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit harsher than he had intended to. He wasn’t used to being the one asking the questions.

“Nothing,” she said, the grin still spreading across her face. It was kind of fun being mysteriously quiet for a change, she thought. And the look of disbelief she was getting from Fenris made her want to keep it up.

“Are you okay, Hawke?”

“I guess,” she shrugged, the smile fading as she thought about it a bit more. No. She really wasn’t. But he knew that already.

“I mean...you know...with everything.”

She suddenly burst into laughter, all attempts at being reserved and mysterious suddenly sabotaged by the ridiculousness of his question. And Fenris couldn’t help but join her.

“Ok, that was perhaps a bit vague,” he sighed, once their combined cackling had subsided.

“A bit...yes,” she smiled. “But to answer your question, aside from the obvious things I’m not okay with, which is pretty much everything having to do with Anders and the mess we left back in Kirkwall...”

“That is fair...”

“...I’m so sick of fish! Pickled vegetables, fruit preserves, hardtack, jerky...fine with all of that. But I am so over fish. The sight, the smell…” She shuddered. Even just talking about it made her nauseous.

“You’ll get no argument from me there.”

Fenris tried to take another swig to finish the bottle, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink any more of it, so he passed it back to Hawke, who took a deep breath and gulped it down like she was taking a shot, before continuing.

“Things I am actually okay with, though -- Varric and Isabela bickering with each other like an old married couple. Or no! More like siblings, I suppose. Siblings who maybe at some point in their lives, have thought about fucking each other. Angrily. Before realizing they were siblings, maybe? I dunno. It’s fucked up, but...”

“It describes their relationship quite well.” Fenris nodded. He was relieved that Hawke’s re-emerging chattiness was seemingly enough to override all the awkwardness that had brought them here in search of alcohol to begin with.

“Right? Also, Merrill and Isabela being adorable and in love. I am very much a fan of that, too.”

“You should talk to Isabela about it. I think she needs someone besides me pestering her to admit she may actually have feelings.”

“If she hurts Merrill...”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“But this has been building for years! What is her deal?”

“Isabela is just...terrified.”

Hawke was on a roll now, and she barely noticed the way his ears dipped self-consciously and his cheeks darkened at the realization that Merrill and Isabela could very well be having the same conversation about them.

“Oh! And...your snoring! I’m okay with that, too. In fact, I don’t think I could sleep without it now.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do!”

“I think I would know if I -- “

“How? When’s the last time you slept in the same room as someone else?”

Fenris had to think. Isabela had spent the night at his place enough times that he was pretty sure she considered it more of a home than the tiny, dingy room she kept at the Hanged Man for ‘business purposes,’ but she usually found her way to one of the other half a dozen or so bedrooms in Danarius’ estate. Even when he lived in the Imperium as a slave, Danarius had given him his own private quarters, a ‘perk’ of being his master’s special pet project. It must’ve been before...when he was still just another young elf to the Magister, undifferentiated from the others, sleeping in the common bunk area of the slave quarters, perhaps next to his sister or mother, and if anyone had told him he snored back then, well, he wouldn’t have remembered anyway.

“It’s been awhile, I guess.”

---

Will show up here soon: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659880/chapters/41647754

#my writing #Lost and Found DA2 endgame canon divergence #literal ship fic #fenris #hawke #fenris snores #hawke loves it

3 notes · View notes

wolgrahas · 6 years ago

Text

tagged by: @falkreathh thank you!! sorry for doing this so much later u_u’ tagging: whoever wants to!! (◡‿◡✿) 1. favourite game in the series ok... i don’t know if you already figured it out but my total fave is dao. why? maybe is the nostalgic feelings this game gives me or... i played it so many mcfucking times that i just get this hollow feeling inside my chest when i haven’t played it for weeks... idk. the trespasser dlc was spectacular too and gave my lavellan a lot of personality (what i thought the dai base game lacked, bc it made me feel like my inquisitor was an empty shell with no personality, solas’ romance save the dai base game to me tbqh). but... you can create such complex personalities in dao for your warden, and the relationships are so so realistic. i think (dao) is neat lmao.

2. how did you discover dragon age? before being a dragon age fan i was a dark souls fan; i breath dark souls, i read dark souls, i ate dark souls, i was quite obsessed with dark souls, and before dark souls i was an obsessed skyrim fan (oNLY SKYRIM, not the previous games ashdgjasdgh) and with skyrim that was the first time i made video game oc's, like... they had such complex personalities and i cannot make complex character now... aNYWAY i'm getting carried away: i knew dragon age bc dai was being lunched and ALL the people i followed reblogged stuff about dai, and then i bought dao and loved it!!

3. how many times have you played the games? hfgsdjfhsjfshd fffUCKKKK SHITT... alright... many mANY TIMES, but how many times i haven't finished my game?? countless times!! i think i finished fINISHED dao maybe... pls don't laugh at me... 10+ times. yes they are so so so many times, shame on me! shame on my cow! blah blah, but i lOVE dao. da2 maybe.... 3-4 times? and dai 6 times?? it's funny bc i played dao and da2 in many different ways but dai... m8, always the same, fuck you solas sdhfjdshjsdf 4. favourite race to play? qUNARIIIII!!! i lOVE tieflings so.. i obviously love the qunari too, but in the dai the first race i chose was qunari but then i talked to solas and i was like... bITCHHHHH i'm gonna create an elf to romance this egg, and then... my canon inky became an elf lol. and last favourite race are humans... ok don't hate me, it's not bc they are """boring""" or shit like that, it's bc they are the upper-class of thedas and i LOVE the "from zero to hero" trope... so... yeah agfshsdfhj 5. favourite class? mages!! bc i love the lore behind this class, it's fantastic, precisely blood magic. but if i didn't care about this, i would choose archer, tho in the first games it sucked but in dai is pretty cool :^) 6. do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? as i've said before i have made many different decisions in dao and da2 but in dai are always the same lol 7. go-to adventuring group? origins: alistair/sten, morrigan, zev/leliana da2: aveline, anders, isabela/varric dai: solas, cassandra, cole/sera 8. which of your characters did you put the most thought into? i think prim/anika??(they're the same but one is a human and the other an elf lmaoo), she was my first da oc, and obviously the one i put most thought into bc i uSED to have a lot of creativity some years ago, what a pity my brain is useless now lmao 9. favourite romance? pfffff... solas, alistair, leli and cass!! i think?? idk i gotta play again dai bc i'm not sure :/ 10. have you read any of the comics/books? i've read aLL the books but not the comics :/, i want to read the comics but idk where i could read them online and free (sorry i'm poor lol), so... mi gozo en un pozo lmao 11. if you read them, which was your favourite book? my fav book was "the masked empire"!! patrick weekes is a good writer and i loved the orlesian politics, and i adored seeing these characters in dai! (tho briala was whitewashed lmao) 12. favourite DLCs? obviously: awakening and trespasser. these two dlc's were mcfUCKING AMAZING. i mean, with dao i expected the same quality of the base game, but trespasser was such an excelent and good experience, it gave a lot of insight to our inquisitors and also: sOOULASSSSS, so yep! i mainly lOVED trespasser and i hope weekes guides the team to make a game at least as good as this dlc! (tho, if ea is a greedy bintch this time [as always lol] it doesn't matter how many times the bioware time tries, ea will force them to do a shitty game :/) 13. things that annoy you how viv, anders and sera are written, i mean, i loved anders the first time i played da2 but his personality is obviously written to annoy the fuck outta you, tho i loved how he expressed his ideals freely (tho sometimes he even seemed too traidtional to me about topics like blood magic :/), but sera and viv were a lil harder to befriend and like, and i still don't like much viv, but i love her as a character, y'kno 14. orlais or ferelden? tbh, if i gotta live in one of those two places i would choose ferelden by fAR. but, now, if we're talking about which is more interesting; orlais. 15. templars or mages? like @/blckwall said: all templars are bastards :). i would love if thedas had independent magic schools, that there were no higher representatives or charges, that every village or city had its own magic school, and the crown would be the responsable of manage its needs. i haven't thought much about this so my thoughts are quite vague :/ 16. if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one? they're from different universes, tho i'd love the idea of all of them being in the same universe, but some worlds states are incompatible with others. 17. what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc) in dao: barkspawn (i'm extremelly predictable, sorry u_u') 18. have you installed any mods? all my dragon age games are modded as fUCK. i mean, i think dao is the most heavy modded game i have?? (mainly bc i cannot install many mods in skyrim lol) but when i have my gaming computer again i will mod the shit out of dai >:) 19. did your warden want to become a grey warden? prim had been working in the circle her entire live to be in the higher ranks, and then she saw how all her work was lost made her really conflicted: she didn't wanted to leave bc she yearned to be more powerful and make the circle a better place for mages (yep, she's deeply anti-circle bc of her traumatic past), and she was going to die if she refused duncan's offer. even so, she was never sorry for supporting jowan. and, she became the king of ferelden's mistress; she loved him obv, but she could also take some advantage of his power to make the mages and marginalize people's situation better, and gain fortune by that; alistair was well aware about her plans by prim's words herself, but he never objected. altho the main cause prim made alistair king is bc she wanted him to have a good life and not waste it as a grey warden, so... anyway, i got acrried away... this is long af ghdjsdgf 20. hawke’s personality? red mostly, tho he used to be purple/red in the first and begining of the second act :/ 21. did you make matching armor for your companions in inquisition? yes i did!! i lOVED to be fashionable in dragon age instyle!! 22. if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? prim : she would have tried to convince jowan and wait some months until she could convince him. also: sometimes she wishes she didn't make alistair king, mostly bc of her daughter (her daughter is the only heir to the throne of ferelden, and basically she doesn't even know that prim is her real mother, mostly bc anora adopted her bc alistair and she couldn't have children), sometimes, in her alone saddest times, thinks how things would have been if alistair was still a grey warden, they would have a happy family and wouldn't even had to hide inofensive stuff like a cheek kiss. but anyway, her duties as a grey warden are more important and doesn't have time to think about it. garrett hawke: he regrets not defending carver, he would have prefered to sacrifice himself instead of any of his siblings. he also regrets going to the deep roads with bethany, letting the grey wardens make her one of them (obv he doesn't know that if he didn't she would have joined the circle lmao). and obv her mother's death... if he had been there, with her mother, he could have done something... :'/ maia: she regrets not being strong enough when that shem tried to hurt her when she was a litte girl, that made her mother kill him to save her bc she was too defenseless, she should have been stronger, that caused her mother and she part ways, because now maia's mother was a criminal and she had more proabilities of getting caught, so maia should go on her way and find the next village, but she found the lavellan clan. she deeply regrets not going after her mother. she also think she was too stupid to not found out the true identity of solas and try to convince him that this world has meaning :'/ 23. do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon? mmmm... no? :/, i like my decisions to have consequences?? 24. are any of your characters based on someone? sahgdashsd pls don't make fun of me but in the first stage of prim's/anika's 'personality creation' was inspired by mother gothel, then she was inspired by...... mikasa ackerman dsfgdjsdf, i'm still inspired by that character tHO i know that shingeki no kyojin is nazi propaganda and i no longer watch that anime lmao. maia is inspired by... a mix of me and rapunzel (from tangled)?? she's basically a shy rapunzel :') 25. who did you leave in the fade? some of you will hate me bc i had to choose between hawke and stroud but i still chose hawke dsfgsdf. m8, hawke is just a 'figure' who isn't widely recognized in thedas, while the grey warden are 394789x more useful, idk i always put myself in the shoes of my characters even if their decisions hurt me (tho, tbqh, i'm not tHAT attached to hawke so this choice was easy lol) 26. favourite mount? royal sixteen!! she's so pretty!! ♡♡♡ thanks for tagging me!! ♡♡

#rami.txt #rami got tagged.txt #this was fun!!

3 notes · View notes

theunemployedrogue · 8 years ago

Text

Jealous [Anders/Fenris]

Insp. by this post: ‘we’ve been fucking with no strings attached but i just saw you go upstairs with another guy and im drunk and following you both upstairs to punch the shit out of him’.

Wrote this a while back and finally decided to post it, since I don’t think I will ever write a second part as I originally intended. I do feel I got it to a good enough stopping point that it stands on its own though, so enjoy!

Fandom: Dragon Age II Pairing: Anders/Fenris Rating: PG (no actual sex, but sexual references) Words: 1892 Content warnings: Alcohol use, jealousy/possessiveness

Fenris growled and downed another gulp of the swill Varric had placed before him earlier that eve. The dwarf had given it high praise as “the only thing actually worth paying for at The Hanged Man” (though he’d later revised his claim after Isabela reminded him that she had a room there). Perhaps Aggregio Pavali had simply ruined him for all other spirits, but Fenris honestly couldn’t tell it apart from the usual piss water they drank on card nights.

He was now three pints in and nearing physical illness, and the shit still wasn’t doing its job. Oh, he was drunk. Perhaps drunker than he’d ever been, but damned if that meant anything. He still hadn’t managed to tear his attention away from the mage. His mage. His mage leaned heavily against an attractive blond human by the hearth fire, face pink from laughter, his amber eyes wide with unmistakable desire for the man at his side.

The drink had all but reduced Fenris’ world to a dizzy swirl of colors and light, but Anders alone remained bright and in focus, like some mortal lighthouse mocking him across a rageful sea.

The mage had quietly slipped into The Hanged Man alone several hours ago. Per usual, he arrived well after their larger party had already split itself across several smaller groups, and he’d drifted to the table with Hawke, Merrill, and Aveline without a glance Fenris’ way.

Fenris had not expected Anders to acknowledge his presence. They rarely greeted one another in public, and did not converse outside of necessary discussions related to battle strategy or healing when they were among friends. Well...there was also the odd argument here and there, but never did they exchange a single word in public that might suggest an intimacy existed between them.

No one had any idea they shared one another’s bed, and had for some time. It was never a spoken rule that the affair had to remain secret, but neither of them seemed to think it was something their friends needed to know. They went about it discreetly, finding time during the lulls between assignments to wander unnoticed between their individual abodes. Their nights together were spent playing the part of lovers who touched and spoke softly, all the animosity between them suspended for a few hours as they took comfort in one another’s embrace.

When it was over, they left their tender words and gentle kisses in the cooling wetness on the sheets, throwing a quilt over everything until their next rendezvous. Things did not change when they met in Hawke’s company the following day, and things did not change on the nights they joined their friends for cards and drinks at The Hanged Man. Nothing had changed at all… at least, that’s what Fenris had believed until that night.

“Maker. You’re shit-faced, aren’t you, elf?”

Fenris reluctantly pulled his gaze from Anders to look at Varric, who was watching him with a smug expression on his face.

“Not quite,” he lied, the obvious slur in his voice earning a chuckle from both his table companions.

“You’re terribly drunk, sweetheart,” Isabela, who was hardly a shining example of sobriety herself at that point, clucked. “So very drunk. Not a wonder, seeing as you elves have hardly a pinch of fat on you.”

The word ‘pinch’ was followed by the feel of Isabela’s fingers squeezing the little fold of plushness just above his hip. She giggled and let her hand slip down to rest against his thigh when Fenris didn’t admonish her.

Her advances were not always unwelcome, especially when he was well into his cups, but her touches that night were not accompanied by the usual spike of lust.

The sight of Anders had stirred a heat within him when the mage first arrived, but that heat was all but extinguished now. All he could focus on was the throbbing of his skull as his drunken mind tried to beat down his rage at seeing another so close to claiming what was rightfully his. His mage. Anders belonged to him.

“I really think it’s time to throw in the towel tonight, Broody,” Varric said, his smooth tone indicating he was the one among them that wasn’t completely sloshed. “Trust me, you’ve had more than enough if you’re making goo-goo eyes at the mage and I’m worried you’re seriously considering it.”

“What?” Isabela scoffed, turning to look at Anders over her shoulder before whipping her head back around. “When was that? Did I miss that?”

“You’ve missed a lot tonight, Rivaini. The toilet for one, I hear…”

“Oh, bah! Aveline’s just got her smalls in a twist because she wished she’d thought of squatting in the washbin!”

Isabela seemed to forget Varric’s remark about Anders, promptly segueing into a tale of her bathroom venture with Aveline and Merrill earlier that night. Fenris was glad when her hand left his thigh to gesture dramatically above her head instead. Free to escape the conversation while his friends were distracted, he rose from the table and prepared to weave his way through the crowd to the exit.

Fenris took less than a dozen stumbling steps toward the door before he was forced to brace himself against the wall. To say he was ‘shit-faced’ was an understatement. The room was turning somersaults in his vision, and he was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t already puked all over himself was because his stomach couldn’t decide which way was up or down.

He knew he would immediately regret it, but he looked behind him toward the blaze of the fire in the hearth, seeking the calm of Anders’ presence to ground him.

His body lurched forward suddenly, and Fenris swallowed the bile in his throat.

Anders was gone from his place by the fire -- though not far, he quickly realized. He caught sight of the mage’s shabby coat just as Anders disappeared up the stairs to the second floor with the handsome blond human.

Something crashed loud and wet against the tavern floor. Fenris heard angry curses at his back and felt the sting of where he’d slammed his hipbone against the table, but his body kept moving forward of its own accord. He was only vaguely aware of Hawke’s teasing call to him as he stormed up the stairs behind Anders. Everything was bloody loud and twisted and wrong side up, but somehow he knew the room Anders would choose and was there to block the door when the mage and his would-be lover arrived.

“Fenris?” Anders said, his voice puzzled.

“You mind, elf?” the other human barked. “You’re in the way.”

Fenris snarled and moved forward, hands balled into fists, but Anders pushed him back before he could strike the man. He relaxed briefly feeling Anders press against him, then wrapped a possessive arm around the mage’s middle.

“Hey, get off him you--!”

“Relax Will, he’s a friend… well, a friend of a friend. A...known acquaintance?”

“I am his lover,” Fenris growled, tightening his grip.

Will regarded Anders with a scandalized expression.

“Is he mad or just drunk out of his mind?”

“Clearly drunk by the smell of him,” Anders said with a forced chuckle. “Look...I think he may need a healer’s attention. I really hate to…”

“Anders, I’m not going to leave you alone with this delusional elf! Give him here, I’m tossing him out!”

“Just try, human.”

“Will, just go, please,” Anders pleaded weakly. “I know him, he isn’t going to hurt me. He’s sick, I need to help him. Please. I...I’m sorry.”

Will lingered for a few moments, glaring daggers at Fenris, before finally stalking off in the direction of the stairs. The moment he was out of sight, Fenris yanked open the door to the room behind them and pulled Anders inside. The room was meagerly furnished, containing only a small bed and bedside table where several candles burned.

Anders moved away from Fenris as the elf slammed and locked the door behind him. The mage’s calm demeanor vanished when Fenris tried to approach him.

“I can’t believe you!” Anders hissed. “You’d better thank the Maker you’re drunk, otherwise I’d have let him have at you like you damned deserve for a stunt like that!”

“I would have killed him.”

“Huh...yes, probably,” Anders muttered. “Dammit all, Fenris, you really know how to ruin a man’s night, you know that?”

“You are mine.”

“I’m what?” Anders spat, his lips curving upward in a sneer. “I don’t belong to you or anyone else, Fenris! I’m a person, not a piece of property. I can’t believe you of all people--”

Anders sighed in exasperation.

“Maker, and you’re being a bloody hypocrite on top of everything! I mean, it’s perfectly all right for you to fool around with Isabela, but I’m not allowed to sleep with other people? Is that how it is?”

“I’ve not slept with Isabela since the first time you and I--” The words ‘made love’ burned in the back of Fenris’ throat, but he swallowed them down at the last instant. “--went to bed together.”

“Oh, please. I see the way she’s always all over you! You’re not exactly pushing her off when she’s crawling half-naked into your lap.”

“That is as far as I’ve allowed her to go for the past several months,” Fenris said. “Yes, she still invites me to her bed, but I...I just can’t anymore.”

Anders narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, looking confused.

“You...really haven’t slept with her since you and I…?”

“No. I’ve not slept with anyone.”

“I...I actually haven’t been with anyone else either. This thing with Will… I honestly had no idea he was even interested in me until tonight. It’s just...when he started flirting with me I realized it’d been nearly three weeks since we last…”

“I wanted to see you,” Fenris said. “I just...assumed I visited far too often.”

“Fenris...seriously?” Anders smiled, some of his anger seeming to ebb. “You thought I had a problem with a gorgeous elf fucking me into oblivion every day of the week?”

“I...I don’t know…It’s just that I was...unnerved by the sort of feelings I was starting to develop for you, so I tried to stay away...”

“Maker,” Anders sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This probably isn’t a conversation we need to have while you’re drunk. Why don’t you sleep it off here and we’ll talk in the morning?”

Fenris let Anders to lead him to the bed and lay him down, but when he grabbed the front of Anders’ robes and attempted to tug him on top of him, he was quickly rejected.

“Want you,” Fenris said, his attempt at a seductive tone completely ruined by way his voice slurred.

“Fenris, you couldn’t get it up right now if you tried. Even if you could, the answer is no. We’re not doing anything while you’re like this.”

“Please. Anders, I--”

Fenris attempted to grab hold of Anders’ robes once more. He caught Anders’ muttered ‘sorry’ just as the mage pressed his fingers to his temple, sending a sleeping spell coursing through his body.

“In the morning, Fenris,” Anders said softly, gazing down at the snoozing elf.

Fenris wasn’t the only one who needed some time to think.

#fenders #fenris #anders #da2 #roguefic

89 notes · View notes

scottishvix · 7 years ago

Text

The One Chapter 2: Temple, Sacred Ashes

I was so overwhelmed by the way you guys received chapter 1. This really is a labour of love. I absolutely cherished every like, kudos, comment, reblog and tag you all left me. It meant the world to me.

Eve, Lily, and the team head for the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The reality of landing in a war zone really hits Lily.

Since Tumblr seems to be making posts with external links unsearchable, if you’d prefer to read it on AO3, you can find the link to my AO3 page in the sidebar.

Now onto the story...

The trip to the mine entrance was uneventful. The wind had picked up, whistling sharply between the jagged peaks, piercing my soft shell and making me shiver. The ladders we had to climb to reach the top were slippery with ice, and being battered by the wind didn’t help.

The trip through the mines was just as I predicted. Cassandra insisted we go slowly and cautiously, even though I had played through this introductory session enough to predict every fight. There was a realness to it now, though. The light cast by the torches was more flickering and the patches of darkness between them blacker. After the cold of the mountain face, the mine interior was stifling. The air didn’t move. Even here, on the highest level that contained only abandoned offices and empty storage rooms, it was claustrophobic.

True to his word, Varric stayed with me at the back of the group and when we attacked it was Cassandra with her sword and Eve with her daggers that took on the brunt of the fighting. She was graceful as a dancer with them. If she had been dark and lithe instead of blonde and stocky, I would have said it was like watching River Tam. But I could take no pleasure in watching her work. Every time I saw one of her blades flash through the air to slash at a wraith or stab a shade something hurt in my chest and tugged at my brain. I pushed it away, concentrating on aiming and firing my bow. All that mattered was getting through this and out of here.

The light and air of the cold mountain was welcome when we exited the mine. Not so the scattered bodies. I caught sight of one scout who’d had his bowels ripped out by a clawed hand and turned to retch into the snow. Tears of shame froze on my cheeks as the others stood around listening to me bring back up the cheese Eve had forced on me. She rubbed gentle circles between my shoulder blades, trying to soothe me. I loved her for that kindness, as I hated myself for my weakness.

Varric sighed heavily. I assumed he’d seen worse sights after the Kirkwall Chantry had been destroyed. “Guess we found the scouts.”

“That cannot be all of them,” Cassandra murmured, sounding worried.

I shook my head, standing again and taking a lungful of clean air. I stared straight at the trees down the path, trying to avoid having to look again at the ripped-up bodies around us. “It’s not, I promise. I’m sorry,” I gestured vaguely in the direction I’d been sick.

“Do not be,” Cassandra assured me. “You told me you were no warrior and I believed you.” She offered me the flask from her belt. “Rinse and spit. You will feel better.” She was right. The water took the tang of vomit from my mouth and cleared up the fuzziness from my head. “You have never seen a dead body before?” I shook my head.

“From what Oracle said before,” Varric interrupted, “the rest of the scouts will be holed up ahead.”

“Our priority must be the Breach,” Solas cut in, his voice sounding pompous and self-assured. “Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”

“We will help them,” I didn’t know where the conviction in my voice came from. Maybe it was seeing the bodies of the poor lads scattered around me. “We pass the rift they’re defending on our way to the Temple and I’m fucked if I’m just going to walk past and leave them to die!”

“Atta girl,” Varric gave my arm a squeeze. Cassandra turned and started down the path. “Don’t look down,” the dwarf whispered. He placed my hands on his shoulders. “Just follow me. You don’t need to look.” I kept my eyes on the back of Cassandra’s head, letting Varric guide me as we picked our way through the bodies.

“I don’t know how to thank you, mo caraid,” I whispered to him as we walked. “You’ve been so kind to me.”

Varric shrugged it off. “Never hurts to stay on the right side of someone who can warn you when a demon’s about to pop out at you. That’s us past them, you can let go now.”

We could see the Breach closer from here; follow the spinning trail of green energy that travelled from the hole above our heads to disappear in the valley below us. Looking at it made me feel dizzy so I kept my eyes on the path at my feet until Eve’s hand began to spark and crackle. “They’re just around the corner now,” I told the group.

Eve smiled. “Then let’s kill some demons.”

The scouts had backed themselves into a corner, effectively preventing the demons from flanking them, but also keeping them trapped between a wall and a rift. Varric’s first arrow turned the tide. The wraiths had to split their attention and the appearance of reinforcements gave the trapped soldiers their second wind. A lieutenant cried out in surprise when she saw her rescuers. Cassandra spun around, splitting the last wraith in half. “Lieutenant Allred, you’re alive!” I could hear the relief in her voice.

“Just barely,” the scout called back. “Watch out!” The ground behind Cassandra had begun to bubble and she darted back in time for two terrors to emerge. Magairlean. I’d always hated terrors. In game, I’d never got the hang of moving from where one was about to emerge in time to avoid being knocked on my arse. And now fighting them for real they were an archer’s nightmare: tall twig thin body, with four twig thin limbs and a twig thin tail. There was fuck all to aim at. And they moved like spiders. I could have cried in relief when Solas froze one for us. At least it couldn’t move, giving me time to line up my aim, and it shattered under combined shots from me and Varric. Eve took the chance to disrupt the rift, stunning the second and allowing Cassandra to lop off its head. Closing the rift was merely a formality after that.

“Sealed, as before.” Even Solas sounded out of breath as he steadied Eve. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.” It also seemed to be taking more out of her. That had to improve after stabilising the Breach. She’d never last through the rest of the Inquisition if it didn’t.

“As long as it works on the big one,” muttered Varric as he joined me and Cassandra in tending to the wounded and exhausted scouting party.

“Well enough for now,” I promised, passing the water skin Cassandra had left me to a scout who was hobbling but still on his feet. He grinned at me and raised the skin in a silent toast before downing its contents.

The Lieutenant had been knocked off her feet by the shockwave of the closing rift. Cassandra was the one to help her back up. “Thank the Maker you arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

Cassandra glanced over at us. “Thank the prisoners. Lady McKichan said you were alive and in need of help. She insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoners?” Lieutenant Allred was clutching a gash in her side but she sounded stunned enough. “Then you…?”

“Closing rifts and saving soldiers,” Eve also seemed to have got her breath back. She grinned at me. “It’s what we do.”

“Then you have my sincere gratitude.” Allred put her fist over her heart and nodded to each of us in what I recognised as the Inquisition’s version of a salute. I replied in kind, and even under her helmet I could see her eyes widen slightly.

Cassandra patted her still stunned soldier on the shoulder. “The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can.”

“At once,” she saluted and went to begin gathering the rest of her troops. We moved together to the path that led down towards the temple.

Solas glanced at me. “The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well. Just as Lady Lily predicted.”

“Still no lady,” I muttered. Varric laughed at me, handing me a pile of my arrows that had gone wide.

Cassandra moved into the lead with a huff. “Let’s hurry before that changes.”

Just as I predicted, the path along frozen cobbles and down scaffolding ladders was demon-free and quiet. I hated it. Too much time to think about, and I didn’t want to think. I knew there was something that had precipitated my waking up in Haven, something that had caused me to come here from the little English village where I had tried to make a new life. But there was a part of my brain that told me I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to remember. Waking up in a war in a fantasy land of elves and dwarves and magic was traumatic, but I had lived with trauma for nearly ten years. There was a worse, more personal trauma somewhere in my head that I didn’t think I wanted to remember.

Varric didn’t like the quiet either, or so it seemed from the way he constantly tried to question Solas and needle Cassandra. “So… holes in the Fade don’t accidentally happen, right?”

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible.” Solas, I thought, sounded as emotionally involved as a brick wall.

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.” I wondered if he was thinking of Anders and Kirkwall. I had never played DAII–by the time it came out Martin had banned me from playing with the Xbox–but I had looked into it enough to get an idea of the story.

Cassandra tried to hush the men. “We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is past. Which is when there will be time for explanations.” I couldn’t read the look she was giving me. Her voice was as harsh and cold as ever, but I thought there was confusion and doubt, too. Maybe I wouldn’t be handed over to Roderick as the Chantry’s scapegoat.

The sight of the Temple was as bad as I’d feared. Jagged shards of melted rock, veined with Fade-green light, jutted out from the main explosion sight. Whole chunks of wall dotted our way around to the main courtyard. There were fires scattered around, burning what little was left to burn. Cassandra pointed to a point on the path. “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” Her voice was quiet, the Nevarran accent more lilting.

“You’ve told us what people saw when Eve came out of a rift, but what of me? How did I appear?”

That surprised Solas. “You have knowledge of all of us and of the future, but not of your own immediate past?”

How could I put this? “I have never Seen my own part in any of this. I cannot See my own future. I have no more knowledge of my own path than you do of yours. Probably less. As far as I am aware I arrived unconscious, and I do not even have the vague memories of being in the Fade that Lady Trevelyan does.”

“Fascinating.” Oh, good. I interested him.

“Two rifts appeared next to one another,” Cassandra interrupted, answering my initial question. “Most eyes appear to have been drawn to the woman behind Lady Trevelyan, but one or two looked behind you.”

“And?” I dreaded the answer.

“They are vague, but all agree that there was white light, a mirror reflecting your back, and a horned shadow.”

“Well, that’s not at all ominous,” I sighed. “I suppose we’ll figure it out later.”

The courtyard was like something out of a nightmare. I gagged again and had to turn away, my eyes watering, unable to take a deep breath because of the smell of burning flesh. It was like pictures I’d seen of Pompeii. Only instead of white statues that had once been people, the bodies were still blackened and charred, some still smouldering away. They were frozen as they had been when they had died–running in panic, cowering in fear, kneeling in prayer. I was grateful the faces were too charred to see their expressions.

“Oracle?” Again, it was Varric who was concerned for me.

I blew out my breath, lifted my head high, and turned back around. “I’ll be okay, mo caraid.” As he turned to walk away, I grabbed him and looked into his eyes. “In the Temple itself, we’ll find your personal nightmare. I’m sorry.” I hurried off after the others without saying more. I couldn’t be the one to tell him we were about see the red lyrium that had driven his brother mad.

Inside what was left of the Temple, it was worse. The bodies weren’t all blackened. The ones that weren’t had all died screaming. I tried as best I could to keep my eyes on the back of Eve’s head, focusing on the intricate braiding of her golden hair. Until we were standing on a balcony overlooking the rift directly under the Breach. It was just so much bigger. Each one of the glowing green Fade crystals was at least as large as a double decker bus, and twice as long, with tendrils of green energy winding and twisting up into the Breach.

“The Breach is a long way up…” Varric murmured staring up.

I whirled at the sound of footsteps behind us, in time to see a troop of archers turn the corner into the Temple. Leliana pushed past them, the chainmail overlay on her tunic rattling as she darted over to us. “You’re here. Thank the Maker.”

Cassandra began firing off orders, but I pushed between them. “I can tell you what will be coming out of that rift. Will it help?”

“Yes,” Leliana answered, when Cassandra could only stare.

“A pride demon. A massive one. Its eyes will be level with that balcony. It’ll call some wraiths and shades to it, but that’s the biggest threat.”

“You are certain?” Cassandra seemed to have found her voice.

“Have I been wrong yet?”

Cassandra shook her head, and she and Leliana took a step away to talk tactics. Varric was at my elbow. “The pride demon is the stuff of my nightmares?” he asked softly. It was my turn to shake my head.

“Are you ready to end this?” Cassandra asked, interrupting as Leliana moved to give orders to her men.

“I’m assuming you have a plan to get me up there?” Eve asked with a raised brow, staring at the Breach thousands of feet above us.

Solas shook his head. “No. This rift was the first,” he answered, gesturing to the rift in the courtyard below us. “It is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“You said the Mark couldn’t seal the Breach yet?” Eve asked turning to me. I’d forgotten I’d told them that earlier. What could I do now, but tell the truth as I saw it.

“It won’t,” I confirmed. “We either need to suppress its power or magnify the power of the Mark. That’s a discussion for later. What it will do is stabilise it, make it dormant. It will stop spreading and spawning new rifts and new demons. It will stop the Mark from killing you. It buys us time.”

“Good enough.” Cassandra was fixed on this path. “Let’s find a way down. And be careful.”

We had barely started walking when the voice rumbled through the Temple ruins. Now is the hour of our victory. I was expecting it but it still made me jump. Bring forth the sacrifice.

“What are we hearing?” It was the first time I had heard Cassandra sound nervous.

“The thing responsible for all this,” I told them. Corypheus.

As we turned a corner, I saw a red glow ahead. I glanced at Varric, walking silently next to me. Too short to see what I was seeing over the top of some of the debris. He knew as soon as we reached it though. I saw him lose all colour in his face, eyes wide with horror. His voice shook. “You know this is red lyrium, Seeker.”

“I see it, Varric.” Her words were sharp, but her tone spoke of some understanding there. Anyone who knew about red lyrium would know about what all it had done in Kirkwall. I laid my hand on his shoulder.

“But what’s it doing here?” he hissed, the fear plain in his voice.

Solas was as impassive as ever. “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it…”

I drew Varric away, as he continued to stare at the blood red rocks jutting out of the stone that had once been the Temple. “It’s evil,” he insisted. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

“I know, mo caraid. I’m so sorry.”

“You tried to warn me-“

Keep the sacrifice still. For all I knew it was coming, and I knew how dangerous red lyrium was, I feared hearing that voice more.

Someone help me!

I closed my eyes, despairing. Her voice was so frightened and it was already far too late to do anything to save her.

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra’s voice was choked. I could only imagine what it was doing to Leliana to hear that. Her friend, her surrogate mother, calling for help and she hadn’t been there.

Varric drew closer to me as we passed more of the foul red lyrium to find a stairway down to the Temple floor. His eyes were wide and his colour still hadn’t returned. As we dropped down the last few feet to the ruined Temple floor, I spotted more red lyrium directly under the rift. We were going to have to be careful of it during the fight.

This close to such a huge rift, Eve’s whole hand was ablaze with light from the Mark, veins of its energy glowing in the back of her hand. She stared at it, as horrified as Varric had been to see the red lyrium.

Someone help me! The Divine’s voice echoed around the collapsed walls once more.

What’s going on here?

Even Eve–possibly especially Eve–looked startled to hear her voice echoing magically around us. There didn’t seem to be an obvious source for the voices, they seemed to be coming from everywhere.

Cassandra’s eyes were huge as she turned to Eve. “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you, but…”

The rift started crackling louder, tendrils dancing out everywhere. We had all begun to back away when there was a flash of light. Suddenly, a ghostly image of the Divine was hanging in the air above us, arms outstretched as if she was being crucified, held by blood red tendrils of energy. Looming over her, was a black shadow with glowing red eyes. If only that was what Corypheus actually looked like. A ghostly Eve ran towards them asking, “What’s going on here?”

“Run while you can,” the ghost of Divine Justinia cried, anguished. “Warn them!”

“We have an intruder.” The voice of the Corypheus shadow was calm, unworried by the interruption. “Kill her. Now.” It pointed at the ghost of Eve before there was another blinding flash of white light and the image was gone.

Cassandra was the first to recover and she was frantic. “You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…?” That was the one question she couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t remember,” Eve was as frustrated as the Seeker.

“Echoes of what happened here,” Solas interpreted, gazing up at the rift. “The Fade bleeds into this place.”

“It was a true account, though that is not actually what your murderer looks like,” I interrupted. They had seen what had happened, now they needed to believe. “Eve was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I’m sorry, Cassandra. Justinia is truly gone.”

She whirled on me. “You were not there.” I flinched and took a step back. Cassandra followed, enraged. “Where were you? Was that you under that shadow?” I stumbled backwards over a rock and fell. As Cassandra loomed over me, fists clenched, I cowered, much as I had in the dungeon under the Chantry, holding an arm to ward off a blow to my face.

Varric darted between us. “Did that sound like Oracle to you, Seeker? Does she look like she has the will or the power to do something like that?”

“I wasn’t even at the Conclave,” I whimpered. “I’d never even been to Ferelden before I woke up in Haven today.”

“Then how did you get here?” Cassandra’s anger had given way to distress. If I could lift myself out of the situation I could understand her feelings. The Divine had been in direct danger, kidnapped and bound, before the explosion. Cassandra could only imagine that if she had been there, she could have protected Justina, prevented it all. And if I was remembering correctly, she’d had an old lover at the Conclave.

From where I was sitting in dirt and ashes, terrified and alone in a strange place, accused of a terrible mass murder, I just hoped she could be brought to see reason. “I don’t know.” I knew I sounded weak and frightened. I was weak and frightened. “I can’t See anything to do with myself.”

“Given that she fell out of a Fade rift,” Eve asked gently, “is it so hard to believe that Lily was carried from a distance away?”

“No.” Cassandra turned away, anger and distress all gone. “Get up. We have to close this rift. We can investigate how you came to be here after.”

While Cassandra had been verbally attacking me, Solas had been examining the rift. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily.” He turned to include Eve, who had been helping me up, in their conversation. She passed me over to Varric who guided me to a corner. I was shaking, tears blurring my vision.

“Someone really did a number on you, didn’t they?” he asked kindly, passing me a handkerchief.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied stubbornly, wiping fiercely at my eyes.

“I mean,” he replied firmly, “that someone taught you to be afraid, all the time, and not to stand up for yourself.” He waved off my attempt to return the hankie. “There’s still a spark there, they didn’t break you completely, but they did teach you to be frightened.”

“I have reason to be,” I could hear the shake in my voice. “If I can’t convince Cassandra I had nothing to do with this, I’ll hang.”

Varric shook his head. “She doesn’t really believe you and Eve are guilty. Not anymore. She’s just feeling guilty for not being there.” He squeezed my arm. “You won’t hang.”

By now, some of the soldiers Leliana had brought with her had arrived and were fanning out around the temple floor. Archers were spread around the balconies overlooking our position. I wished I was up there with them.

“Stand ready.” Cassandra’s voice echoed through the ruin. Eve scanned around and caught my eye. I notched an arrow to my bow and nodded at her. If I survived this, then I could think about what came next, not before.

Eve smiled at me, squared her shoulders, and lifted her hand to the rift. At once a tentacle of green light shot from her hand. There was a flash and she staggered back as a stream of light shot from the rift to explode in a flash of green off to one side. When the flash cleared the Pride demon was in its place.

It was as tall as I’d predicted, grey and hideously spiked in a natural armour made more deadly by the bolts of electricity that jumped from joint to joint. I caught a glimpse of seven pitch black eyes above two rows of jagged fangs before it lifted it head and bellowed, a sound that echoed horribly off the stone around us.

Varric and I stayed back as far as possible, pinned against a wall. When Cassandra roared, a shower of arrows rained down on the beast from the archers above us. As they hit, most of them bouncing harmlessly off its hide, the creature laughed, a sound which chilled my blood.

My world shrank to grabbing an arrow from the quiver on my back, drawing, and releasing. If I looked around, at the soldiers being slashed to pieces by claws as long as my arm, or grabbed by the demon’s lightning whip and tossed away, burning, I would be lost. Eve disrupted the rift when she could, freezing the thing in place and giving us time to get some more hits in. I felt the pins and needles tingle of Solas’ barrier settling on me as a shade appeared in front of us. Varric grabbed a dagger from his boot and slashed at it, as I ducked to avoid a swipe of its claws and Solas froze the thing. I shouldered into it, knocking it down the pile of rubble we were perched on to shatter on the ground below. Varric shouted some vague thank you to the elf, but I was too busy drawing and aiming again to pay much attention.

It felt like forever before the demon fell to its knees. “Now!” I heard Cassandra call. “Seal the rift!” My eyes flitted over the battlefield, searching for Eve. She was practically underneath the rift, standing looking battered and bruised. She looked blankly at Cassandra who roared, “Do it!”

The green stream of energy shot from Eve’s palm as she lifted it. And we waited. All previous rifts had closed in seconds but time seemed to stretch out now. Eve staggered closer to the rift and I couldn’t tell if she was pushing herself forward in an attempt to force the rift closed or if it’s power was dragging her closer. Finally, it exploded upwards, and I watched in awe as a shockwave rolled over our heads and out of the Temple. A green ball of energy travelled from the exploding rift up into the Breach, which also flashed. I heard another shockwave follow the first, but couldn’t see it, blinded by the explosion above me.

When my eyes cleared, Eve was unconscious on the ground. Varric made to dart forward, but I stopped him with my hand on his shoulder. “She’s alive. She’s just exhausted herself.” He stopped and stood with me, watching as Solas examined her, Cassandra looming over the elven mage. He only let out his breath when Solas looked up and nodded to Cassandra. The Seeker immediately started barking orders to the soldiers around her.

Varric looked up at me and smiled. “Time to face the music, Oracle.”

#The One Who Will Live On #Dragon Age fanfic #tw: abuse #tw: dv #Sai Writes

25 notes · View notes

feynites · 8 years ago

Note

I am curious, who did your Hawke(s) romance in Dragon Age 2? Also, I am REEAAALLLY curious to see what spirits Thenvunin and Kel merge with in the 'Everyones an Abom AU'.

For the first question: I romanced everyone in various playthroughs of DA2, but I never really developed a particular attachment to any of my Hawkes, so I’m not very picky about shipping with that crowd. If that makes sense. The Hawke who had the most dramatic playthrough was a M!Hawke who romanced Anders, so I tend to default to him, or else I go with my sister’s Hawke, Malcolm Jr, who was a bit of an ass and spent most of his game pining for Aveline. (90% of his character comes from my sister’s impression of him, and watching her play and basically be like ‘ahhh, my dove!’ any time Aveline came on screen. She can also sneer ‘Donnic’ in a faux-M!Hawke voice that is just full of undeserved vitriol - but Donnic was fine in her playthrough. Also a running gag was that Malcolm was completely oblivious to the fact that Fenris was rather long-sufferingly in love with him.)

For the second, I mean, I wasn’t actually planning on… but, I guess it is called… I…

…Well I guess let’s see what Uthvir was doing in the version of this ‘verse where they didn’t die!

(Warning for child endangerment and threats towards children and physical menace of children.)

The Templars have gone quiet.

That is, Uthvir thinks, a bad sign rather than a good one.Because their sources have been going silent, over the past four years.Snuffing out like candles, running up across dead-ends, meeting unexpectedwalls and blockages and it is not as if the movement is dwindling. It might diedown, every now and then, might legitimately come close to ending, but over thecenturies they have learned to see the signs. They know what to look for.Everything in them is telling them that is an upswing, not a down.

But all the places they know, and the faces they havelearned to watch, have stopped yielding information.

They do not know if the leaks are being discovered, or ifthe organizing is simply wise enough to cover its tracks better, or if time hasmade them so accustomed to looking in certain places that they have forgottenhow to seek out others. They do not know what has and has not been compromised,and Fear is running wild with the implications. With the best avenues ofresponse. Withdraw to one of the bunkers? They are more remote, harder to find,but if they are already being watched and tracked, then they could be followed.Then the remote location might work against them. Send out warnings? Butwarnings for what? The danger of discovery is well-known, and contacting theothers might simply alert anyone with eyes on Uthvir as to where the rest ofthe clan is. Stay put, try to lie low? But that could just be turningthemselves into a sitting duck, if the only location that the Templars knowabout is this one.

They cannot afford to take long to deliberate, either. Amoment. A moment is all that it takes, sometimes.

In the end they leave messages in the Fade, in the old dreamnetworks that have not been used for a century. The ripples should catch someattention, but possibly not enough for the others to actively check it. Still,it would be harder for the Templars to discover such things; even if they havemages on their side, or spirits, discovering the network would be difficult, andinfiltrating it well enough to actually glean the contents of the messages, near to impossible. Unless one of theclan has betrayed them.

Uthvir does not think so, but they cannot afford to discountthe possibility.

They tailor each warning very specifically, for all that the contents must be vague. ‘Templars upto something – change security, withdraw if needed, clan may be compromised’.

They mentally review what they know of everyone. Selene andFelasel are with Dirthamen and Cirimeni again, out on their not-quite-farm. Nota good location, Uthvir thinks; it’s too remote for the security or anonymityof a densely-populated area, but not remote enough to afford the protection ofwilderness. But then, Desire and Pride are not apt to listen to their ‘over-precautions’.Melarue and that other one, they’re in Antiva again, with Varawell. Followingup a potential lead on more family. Their security level is questionable; it’sbeen months since Uthvir heard from them. They might even be the source of thelink, if one or all of them have been compromised. Eda is on her reserve, withher dragons.

And Thenvunin, Irenan, and Kel are at home, in their ParVollen city apartment. Or they all will be in a few hours, anyway. School willbe letting out soon. Thenvunin should be home, he said he was going to goshopping but they doubt he would leave it so late that he would risk not beingthere everyone else got home.

Uthvir leaves the public terminal they had been using tolook into their last dying ember of a lead, and sets off down the street. They considertheir car, as they get back into it. A somewhat flashy SUV, too conspicuous fortheir tastes right now. There’s another they can use to leave the city by, in aparking garage not far from the highway. They’ll head for Eda’s. Weighingthreat versus security, they think, the bunker near to the giant nest full ofdragons will be safest. The kids will be thrilled, and they can gather up Eda,and then investigate what may be going on in Antiva. If they can get thingssecure enough, they’ll fly over themselves.

But they can’t leave Thenvunin and the children. Theycontemplate it, but only for a moment. There’s a chance that putting distancebetween them might be safer for them. But there is an equal chance that it willleave them vulnerable, and it would be jarring to just suddenly abandon them.They won’t do that.

They stop at the elementary school first. Kel is youngerthan Irenan this time, Uthvir had her themselves, and has spent the past eightyears marvelling over how little has changed about her in the process. Thebiggest difference is that she is a mage this time around. Irenan is thirteen,now, at the awkward stage of painful growth spurts, his horns hardening and hisindependent streak kicking in with a vengeance. Uthvir expects to find himwaiting outside the school for Kel; his own lets out a little earlier, and heusually waits for Uthvir to come get them here.

There are a lot of parents and kids milling about. But notIrenan’s distinctive outline.

They give it a minute. Their nerves are heightened due tothe situation, they know. They remind themselves that they do not really knowfor certain what is going on, or if they are a target; and even if they were,today, of all days, would not necessarily be the day that something happened.

The bell rings.

The classes empty out, children eagerly dashing away fromtheir classes to waiting cars and parents, older siblings and guardians. Uthvirsees the other children from Kel’s class, recognizes little Alistair and hisbrother, the redheaded Tabris girl, the pack of Rutherford children – anothergroup they have been keeping one eye on, at Varawell’s request. A few morechildren they can’t name, but can recollect from class activities, field tripsthey have helped with and parent-teacher conferences.

No Kel.

They park the car properly, and head into the school.

Kel’s teacher is friendly, if more sugary-sweet than Uthviris inclined to like, and prone to talking down to his students. He’s in theclassroom, organizing a few things at his desk, when they push past the lastfew stragglers and head in.

“Where is Kel?” they ask, disinclined to preamble.

The teacher blinks up at them.

“Oh! Ser Elvhen,” he greets. “I thought you would haveknown. Kel was called away from class at lunch time. There was a familyemergency? Your husband came and got her…”

Uthvir is already turning away, though, their hearthammering and their mind racing enough that the lights flicker, just a little.They pull out their phone, and quickly call Thenvunin. Heading for theprincipal’s office.

The call has gone to voice mail by the time they reach theirdestination.

Thenvunin is not apt to ignore their calls.

They have to remind themselves that it could actually be an emergency. The reminder feels thin, however. Mirenais in Orlais, visiting with friends. Something could have happened to her, butThenvunin would have called them first, in that case. They have no missedcalls. No texts. A check at the principal’s office has the vice principalconfirming that Thenvunin – or someone sufficiently like Thenvunin to keep Kelfrom kicking up a complaint – came and got their daughter at noon. They phoneagain, as they make their way back out to the parking lot. Fear is riding high,now, licking at the threads of connections it can find. But the school iscrowded, and rife with the anxieties of students, and teachers, and frettingparents.

Checking Irenan’s school reveals the same results. Someonecame and got him at noon, citing a ‘family emergency’, and nothing else.

Uthvir tries phoning Thenvunin again.

Voice mail, again.

Someone has takenthem.

Yes, obviously, butthey need to figure out where, and so they also need to figure out how.Thenvunin came and got the children. It could have been an imposter. It wouldtake a good one to fool Irenan and Kel, but a shapeshifter might be able tomanage it for the time it would take to get in and out of the school. Gettingthe voice right would be the trickier part. On the other hand, it could haveactually been Thenvunin himself. That seems… likelier, though if he thought thechildren might be put in danger, Uthvir cannot see him willingly going andgetting them. By all accounts, he had gone in alone…

What if they are hurt?

…But he could have been deceived. Made to think there was an emergency. He still would havecalled Uthvir, they think, but there are ways to interfere with calls…

What if they arekilled? What if we have lost them again?

…They need to go to the apartment. There is a component theyneed for their tracking spells to work, and a backup, and if not they will haveto head for the storage locker near the docks. If someone has taken them, ifthe Templars have taken them, then itwill be to get to Uthvir. There will be something. A message, a trap; even ifall else fails they will not have vanished into thin air.

Kel is a mage, now.They will hurt her. They will hurt them all. Condemnation by association;aiding and abetting an abomination.

The children are justlittle, and Thenvunin does not know much beyond basic self-defence…

The steering wheel creaks and Uthvir forces themselves totake a breath. Focus. They cannot get pulled over by a police officer, theywill eviscerate whichever unfortunate soul tries it and that will be conspicuous.

The roads seemed to have grown exponentially in the time ittakes for them to get to the apartment, however.

Gone since noon. Hoursoff, now. They could have boarded a plane. A boat. Could be in the back of atruck somewhere, driving away.

They could be dead.

Uthvir gets to the apartment in one piece.

The security measures are intact. Wards undisturbed.Frustrating. They hold out hope that this is just a misunderstanding, thatthey’ll get inside and Thenvunin and the children will be there, safe and soundif slightly perplexed at Uthvir’s state. But the apartment is quiet. Just asthey left it this morning, more or less. There are still a few dishes in thesink. Thenvunin’s favourite coat and his city shoes are gone. He was taken while he was out, then.

But there is one piece of news.

The cage by the terrace is shut tight, and it does not takelong for a frustrated racket to kick up. Screecher normally spends theafternoons flying off towards the park at the edges of the city, huntingsquirrels and menacing the occasional jogger. The apartment has a garden, aswell, and with some extra incentive, the building’s owners have agreed to givetheir exotic pet free reign. But not in the mornings. Thenvunin must have leftshortly after Uthvir went to work, and then not come back at his expected timeto let Screecher out.

Uthvir opens the cage, and is immediately treated toscolding cries. Fear cracks, andsomething in Screecher answers. The bird freezes, halting its reprimandstowards Uthvir, and cocking its head.

The best component for the strongest tracking charm thatthey have ever made is in this bird’s feathers.

There are others, of course. At any given time there is achance that Screecher will meet with an unfortunate accident. The bird’sprovenance has seen it through more lifetimes than Uthvir is certain of, butthey will not bank on it being indefinite. However, all things considered,Screecher has been more permanent than a lot of factors in their strangeexistence. And its nature makes it uncannily predisposed to such magic.

“We have to find Thenvunin and the children,” they informit.

Screecher doesn’t offer a protest to this.

Uthvir begins to cast the spell. It doesn’t take long, butit’s possible they overdo it a little. Two of the lightbulbs in the roomshatter, and the television screen cracks, and one of their weaker wards diesin a burst of overwrought magic. But Screecher does not move, not even when itbegins to glow, slightly. And then the air snaps and Uthvir’s lungs ache, and theyfeel their shadow grow big enough to swallow some of the daylight in the room.Something tugs behind their ribs. A direction.

There.

Screecher alights onto their shoulder, and they all but flyback out of the apartment again. Barrelling down the stairs, and out throughthe doors and into their car once more. Their teeth and sharp and their nailsare long, and their skin is itching, threatening to crack as they forcethemselves to breathe, to think, to keep their focus as they take back off downthe road. Barely aware even of Screecher as it settles onto the passenger seat,and cries angrily at anything that veers too close to their vehicle.

They have to find them.

Have to.

Kel’s class is in the middle of watching a movie – a rareand much-appreciated event which most everyone has been looking forward to, eventhough the movie itself is kinda boring and old – when she gets called out ofclass. The school’s secretary whispers with the teacher for a moment, while theother kids are watching the movie; and then tells Kel to get her bag.

“Your Papae is here to get you,” she says. “Something hashappened, but he wants to tell you about it himself.”

Kel frowns, worried, but nods in understanding.

“Is my nanae alright?” she wonders.

“Yes, they’re alright,” the secretary tells her. They go tothe office, then, moving quietly through the halls so as not to disturb theother classes. It doesn’t take long, just a few minutes of sitting in one ofthe office chairs before her Papae comes.

Something’s wrong, though.

She goes up to him and he puts an arm around her shoulders,but it doesn’t… feel right. He’s all stiff and there’s just… something notright? She can’t put her finger on it, though. He doesn’t really seem upset.He’s polite to the school’s secretary and the vice principal, who comes andpops their head out to check on them before disappearing back into the office.His clothes are wrong, though, she realizes. She’s never seen her Papae wearthese ones before, and she thought she knew all of his clothes.

But… he was going shopping today, wasn’t he? He promised toget her new sunglasses, too, since her old ones broke.

“Papae?” she asks, when the grown-ups have finished talking.“What’s wrong?”

He pats the top of her head, awkwardly.

“It’s nothing too bad, sweetheart, but I’ll explain whenwe’re in the car,” he says.

“Are Nanae and Irenan okay?” she asks.

“Of course they are. Irenan is in the car too, waiting forus,” he tells her, and takes her by the hand. Holding just a little too tight,as he leads her out of the school, and the sense of something is wrong doesn’t go away. But Kel is thinking that itmust be that something has happened to make her Papae act strangely. Making hisvoice just a little too high, and his mannerisms a little too stiff, and it’snot until she sees the car they’re heading for and realizes that she doesn’trecognize it, either, that sheremembers Nanae’s warnings about shapeshifters. Shapeshifters other than them,who wear disguises, and sometimes even make themselves look like other,specific people.

“Papae, what’s the password?” she asks. She should haveasked that first! That’s what thepassword is for!

Papae looks down at her, and she knows. She just knows. It’swrong. It’s all wrong, his eyes are wrong, they’re the same colour but theyaren’t looking at her right, and that’s nother father!

But before she can open her mouth to scream, everything goesreally bright and then really dark. Painful and deep, aching and drowning atonce. Her head swims and the world dissolves into ribbons of bright colour, andher voice dies in her throat before it can even get past her lips. Her skinfeels too hot. Too, too hot, and it feels like someone just tried to punch allof her bones at once.

And then it goes dark, as Kel feels an awful lurch of terror.

Her dreams feel like they take a long time to come.

There’s something itchy about the darkness that takes her.Like scraped knees catching on rough fabric. Like the sense that she needs tobe doing something, needs to be not sleeping, but she can’t wake up, either.She drifts in that odd sense of urgency and inaction for a long time. A bag ofrocks, covered in ants. Itching, itching, until she feels something twitch, in the dark.

Something big moves beneath her.

Oh, says a voiceshe feels like she knows. It is you.

Everything starts to tip, then, like a chair fallingbackwards. In the moment when she expects the lurch, then, she opens her eyes.Scratchy, heavy eyelids, and bright lights, and there are arms around her. Armsshe knows, and a scent she knows, and she sighs before she remembers that’s not my father, and then she goesrigid with fear again.

“Kel?” her Papae says, though. And his voice is right. Hesounds upset, but he sounds the right kind of upset. “Da’vhenan? How do youfeel? Does anything hurt?”

Her vision clears, and she sees his face, then. There arebruises on it, and blood on his lip, and there’s Irenan, too. Sitting rightnext to them, with his hands behind his back for some reason, and his headalmost on Papae’s shoulder. He’s not bruised, not that she can see, but hisbrows are furrowed and he looks like he’s scared. But he’s trying not to showit, because he’s Irenan.

“Kel, are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” Papae asks her,with his eyes red around the rims and a purple bruise on his temple.

“She’ll just be a little sore,” someone else says, fromsomewhere she can’t see, with a voice she doesn’tknow. Papae glares in their direction, though. Hurt and scared and mad.

“She is a child,”he says. His arms move around her, but they’re moving weirdly, and he doesn’tbrush her forehead or cheek. Kel blinks a little more awake. She feels like shebruised both of her knees and her elbows, and her chest aches, like she justran really hard into a rock or something. She’s done that before. One time shefell down a hill and bruised her shin, and landed on a boulder. Her chin gotscraped up and Papae took her to the doctor, and he got really mad about thathill and made the school put a fence around it and dig out the boulder.

“What happened?” Kel asks.

Papae looks back at her, and bends down and presses a kissto her forehead.

“You got hurt, da’vhenan,” he says. “How do you feel? Isyour head okay?”

She thinks about it.

“My arms and legs hurt,” she tells him. “And my chest issore. Papae, your face is all bruised…”

“Shh,” he says. “Don’t mind that, I’m fine. What does yourchest feel like? Where does it hurt?”

Kel wriggles around, meaning to put a hand over her ribs.But then her fingers brush something, and she frowns. Sitting up a little bitmore, she realizes that there’s metal on her papae’s wrists. And there’s ropeon her brother, too, and some bruises on his arms. She swallows, and then looksaround. She doesn’t know the room they’re in. It looks a little bit like theschool basement, but there’s no heater or little box windows. Just grey walls,yellow light, and a man she doesn’t knowhandcuffed to a pipe.

The air feels heavy, too. Stuffy, but not, and she can’tfeel her magic very well.

She doesn’t like this.

“Where are we?” she asks again. “Where’s Nanae?”

“Shhh,” Papae tells her. His bottom lip is trembling alittle, like he might cry, and Kel gets that sinking feeling she always haswhen he’s upset.

“It’s okay,” Irenan tells her, shifting his legs around. “Wejust need to… to wait. Help’s coming. These guys think they’re gonna trick ourNanae, but they’re wrong. Nanae’s gonna get here and they’re going to be somad, they’ll tear this whole place apart, and we’ll be back home before dinnertime. We’ll have pizza to celebrate.”

Kel glances over at the stranger handcuffed to a pipe.

“What guys?” she wonders.

“The guys who hit Papae,” Irenan tells her, and Papae sucksin a breath and then makes a quelling motion at him. But Kel was pretty sure hegot hit, anyway, because he looks like he did. “They made that other guy, overthere, pretend to look like him so they could kidnap us. He’s a shapeshifter.”

Oh.

“I figured that out!” she says, pleased about one thing, atleast.

Papae’s eyes water a bit.

“I know you did. My smart girl,” he tells her.

She asked for the password, she remembers, and then… he musthave cast a spell on her.

That really hurt.

She sits up, and Papae keeps his arms around her, eventhough his hands are cuffed together. They’re real handcuffs, too, not like the toy ones she found under his bedone time. There are no soft fuzzy bits, and they look like they hurt. Kel leansagainst her father’s chest as she examines his wrists, and he asks her morequestions about where she hurts and whether or not her heart is beating reallyfast. If she feels dizzy, and things like that; but she’s starting to feelbetter.

After a while, she feels good enough to get up and lookaround. Papae tells her not to go near the stranger, but after a minute he letsgo of her so she can look and see if she can find anything that might help themescape. She looks for wards, like the kind Nanae makes, but she can’t find anysigns of them. There are no sigils or runes or anything, and she even goes intoa corner with cobwebs trying to look, and checks the undersides of some of thepipes.

Maybe, she thinks, it’s on the inside of the pipes. Nanae did that, one time, under the sink. Keldoesn’t have a wrench, though, and the pipes won’t twist in her hands.

The stranger clears his throat.

“Little girl,” he says.

“Don’t talk to her,” Papae snaps, furious.

The stranger doesn’t even look at him. He’s human, althoughhe’s not as big as some, and it looks like it’s been a long time since he had ashower.

“Little girl,” he says, again, clearing his throat. “I thinkyou might be able to get this pipe. If you can untwist it-“

“Kel, come here,” Papae tells her, in his no-nonsense voice.

She hesitates, just for a minute. Just until she remembershow bad it hurt, and how scary it waswhen the stranger was pretending to be him. And then she goes back over, whileIrenan squirms around. It’s hard to be comfortable with his hands behind hisback, and his horns are probably itching again. She reaches up a hand andscritches the bases for him, and he lets out a relieved sigh.

The stranger swallows, and then lets out a big sigh of hisown.

“Look,” he says. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t have a choice-”

“Shut your mouth,” Papae hisses. “No choice? You could havescreamed your head off the minute you set foot in Irenan’s school building. Youcould have called for the police, could have run, could have hit the firealarm. You could have tried any of that before you even attempted to deceive me, but instead you hurt my children!”

“You don’t understand!” the stranger shouts back. “You don’tknow what they’re like. Call thepolice? They own this whole town! They’re everywhere! You can’t escape them,they’ll always find you and when they do, they’ll do things to you… they’llwatch you and follow you, never let you sleep, never let you be… alwayswatching…”

He sobs.

“Save it,” Papae says, and Kel’s never seen him be so mad atsomeone who was crying before.

The stranger’s face twists.

“Oh, sure, blame me,” he snarls. “Blame me, when you’re theone who fucked one of those things.Fucking an abomination! And it’s myfault that they come for you, come to clean up the mess, when it’s creatureslike that ‘nanae’ of yours and fuckers like youwho ruin it for the rest of us! Make them think we’re all twisted monsters,while you go around happily making demon babies and perverting ox brats-“

“Children, cover your ears!” Papae insists, and he looks soupset that Kel actually does it, for a moment.

Irenan doesn’t, though.

He just glares at the stranger, and when Kel sneaks herfingers apart so she can hear better again, he starts shouting, too.

“You used blood magic on my little sister, you sick fuck!”he says.

“Irenan!” Papae scolds, because Irenan said the ‘F’ word.

Irenan’s eyes are shiny now, though.

“Well if he’s gonna say it then I’m gonna say it, I’m notletting him call us names…”

Papae makes a sound, and then leans in towards him. It takessome doing, and Irenan seems like he’s going to be standoffish about it, butthen he shuffles closer and presses his face against Papae’s shoulder. Huffinga little as a few tears slip down his face, and Kel feels her own eyes itchbecause there’s so much shouting and crying and bruises and trouble, and shejust wants to go home. She wants Nanae to come and say that everything’s okaynow.

Irenan’s still crying when they heard a loud groaning sound.Like a big door opening.

Papae stiffens, and then he shifts forward, and makes Keland Irenan go behind him as much as they can.

Some part of her expects to see her Nanae came rushing in,then. Or maybe just really hopes to. So it feels like someone’s dropped anentire bag of ice cubes in her stomach when three strangers come into the room.Two men and a woman, all with hard faces, and upside-down swords on theirshirts. They’re human. Wearing clunky boots and heavy gloves, and one of themhas a gun.

Kel’s never seen a gun in real life before. Not one thatwasn’t a toy, anyway. It’s shiny, and it takes her a moment to even realizewhat it is; for half a second she thinks it’s a knife, but it’s the wrongshape.

The strangers stare at them.

“Girl’s a mage?” the woman asks.

“No,” Papae says.

“That’s what’s on the record,” the shapeshifter tells them.

“It’s a mistake. She’s not a mage. None of us are,” Papaeinsists. “If you let us go, we won’t say anything. We won’t tell a soul, we’llpretend that none of this happened…”

The lady gives Papae a hard look.

Then she gestures towards Kel.

“Grab her,” she says, to one of the men at her side. The onewho isn’t holding a gun.

“No,” Papae says. “No, don’t you touch her! She’s just agirl, she’s not a mage, leave her alone, she’s a baby, you can’t touch her-“

“Hands off, leave her alone!” Irenan says, too, and Kel endsup wedged between him and Papae but the human is a big guy. Bigger than the onechained to the pipe, with eyes like ice, and he just backhands Irenan out ofthe way.

“Don’t you touch my son!” Papae shouts. “Get your hands offof my children, get your hands off of my children!”

He’s shouting as loud as Kel has ever heard him, and she’sterrified when the man finally grabs her and drags her across the room. Shekicks at him but misses, and his grip on her arms is hard enough to bruise. Thelady doesn’t even blink. She doesn’t even really seem to look at Kel, justright through her, as the man who isn’t holding her levels is gun at Papae andIrenan, while they both fight against their handcuffs.

Kel freezes.

There’s a gun pointed at her father, at her brother.

And she can’t feel her magic. She wants to do something, she has to something, she’s the one who has magic here but she can’t feel it, and they’re gonna hurt herfamily, they’re gonna hurt her family andwhere’s Nanae-

She doesn’t even realize how hard she’s crying until the manholding her shakes her, and it’s like all the breath gets rattled right out ofher lungs.

There’s a moment of silence with her gasp. She looks atPapae, and Papae looks at her. His face all flushed and bruised, and mad andscared, and he’s still trying to keep Irenan behind him, and he’s trying toreach her, and this is the worst dream Kel has ever had.

She wants to wake up now.

“Please,” Papaesays. “She’s just a baby. My baby. Please.”

“Nothing has to happen to her,” the lady says. Her voice iscold.

They’re all so cold, these people. Monsters. Ice in theirveins.

The lady keeps talking.

“We’re just going to ask you a few questions,” she says.“And you’re going to answer them. If we like your answers, the girl will befine. If we don’t, well… my associate here has yet to practice his skills on areal abomination. The girl presents a good opportunity for him.”

Papae looks like he wants to scream.

He bites his lip instead, as Kel looks up at the man holdingher again. What skills? What’s he supposed to practice?

It sounds… bad.

“What do you want to know?” Papae asks.

The woman settles her hands in front of herself.

“How many of you are there?” she asks.

Papae blinks, and swallows.

“How many…? You… you have my whole family here. Except formy spouse. And my mother…”

The woman snaps, and the man holding her loosens his gripjust enough to pull a knife from his belt. The metal gleams, just like the gun.Papae’s eyes go wide.

“No!” he says. “I don’t know what you’re asking! What areyou asking? I’ll answer, how many what, howmany what?”

The woman makes a gesture, and the man settles the knifeagainst Kel’s shoulder. Near her neck. The blade is warm, from where it’s beenpressed against his skin. Her eyes drift towards it. Nanae told her want to do,if someone had a knife like this. Stomp on their instep, and then hit theirgroin as hard as she can, and then their elbow to make them drop it. Theyshowed her how. But she’s supposed to run away, then, and there’s nowhere torun away to.

And the other man still has a gun.

Kel looks at her brother.

Irenan shakes his head, just a little, and she stays still.

“How many abominations are there?” the lady asks. “We knowthere’s a nest. More than just your spouse and daughter. An entire infestation;so tell me, how many are there?”

Papae looks like he’s going to cry.

“I don’t know,” he says.

The lady moves and the man grabs up her hand, and Kelstruggles but he’s really, really strong, and he makes her put one of herfingers out straight and presses the knife up to it-

“FIFTEEN!” Papae shouts. “There are fifteen!”

Kel’s heart is pounding, and her eyes can’t move away fromthe sharp metal pressed close to her finger. She’s shaking. She doesn’t want toget one of her fingers cut off, she doesn’t want to, she’s so scared and theman is almost smiling now, smiling ashe holds the knife to her and stares at it, too. The lady gestures for him tostop, though, and he does. He stops again, crushing her but not cutting her.

“Nanae!” Kel cries, as hot tears spill down her cheeks.Maybe if she calls, they’ll come. They come when she calls. When she’s scared,when Papae’s hurt and her brother’s sick, they always come. “I want Nanae!”

“Quiet!” the man snaps at her.

She swallows, her vision blurring.

“You’re lying to me,” the lady says. “So I see we need toestablish the consequences of that. If you give me an answer I don’t like, I’llhurt one of your children. But if you lie…I’ll kill them. After all, you do have two, don’t you? And in the end, I’m justgoing to get everything out of your spouse as well. So I want you to tell methe truth. Even when it hurts. Honesty is cleansing, they say – and Makerknows, your ‘family’ needs a good fire.”

“No-“ Papae says.

“Let’s see if Round Two goes any better. Kill the girl,” thewoman tells the man.

He shifts his grip on the knife.

“Do it, Kel!” Irenan shouts.

All three grown-ups whip around to look at her, and thenPapae makes a sound she’s never heard him make before, and surges forward. His handcuffs clink and the pipe he’s chained to snaps, and so does his shoulder,cracking like a chicken bone as water spills out across the floor. Everythinghappens so fast, then. The lights flicker and the gun fires, and Papae tacklesthem, and Kel watches, wide-eyed and up close, as the knife sinks into hischest while they all land in a heap. The air charges up like a storm. Like theblanket that has been thrown over everything has just caught fire. She can hearIrenan wrenching himself away from the pipe, too, sliding in the spilled waterand the lady shouts something and… and…

Papae glows.

Screecher has loved Husband for a very long time.

Since before Small Red came. Since before the cycles came.Since before the hatchlings came, and the round-ears came, and the big hornscame. Sometimes, Screecher is not sure of what is true in the world. If theyare a bird, or a spirit, or a memory. Sometimes they are not sure of ground, orthe sky, or the sea, or the places where dreams live, or the places whereclouds drift. These things could all be lies. The world is full of them. Sometimesgood lies, sometimes strange lies, sometimes nice lies, and sometimes cruellies. Tricky lies and lies that are still true, somehow, and twist themselvesup in all the things that are and all the things that are not.

But Screecher loves Husband.

This is true. This is what makes Screecher… Screecher.

And Husband loves Screecher back. Has loved Screecher backsince the Beginning of Screecher. If he did not, then this truth would not beso true. It would not be so strong. It would not be so easy for Screecher tofind Husband, when they know to look. The magic that Small Red put in theirfeathers would not shine like a beacon in the place of dreams, and Screecherwould not hear Husband so well when he is calling.

When he is screaming.

When he needs them.

It is not an easy thing to fly through the space-between-spaces,and it is not an easy thing to fly through fast-moving traps of metal androaring. The car-beast that Small Red is using to speed towards Husband, but itis not fast enough. Small Red is good for moving in the shadows. Not in thebright daylight, of roaring things, and heat, and stone.

But Screecher is Love, and Love, old and long love, made ofmany tethers which cannot break – that is something that flies, when it must.

Husband is screaming for help, in the ways of the deep, deepneeds.

So Screecher flies.

Through the car-beast and through the Other Place, throughmetal and magic and skies made of both. Screecher’s wings tear and feathersbreak, and light spills through the places where its blood flows. But there isnot time to care about such things. Love flies through the roads it made,through Bestest Nest and dirt and sky, to where Husband’s heart is beating andvoice is screaming. Through walls of stone and will, that break like glasswindows when Love barrels through them, and sends their makers staggering.

Husband is screaming.

Hurting.

Loving.

Youcan’thurthemyoucan’tmybabiesmychildrennoIwon’tletyouIwon’tletyounohelpnomybabies…

Love does not stop flying until it reaches Husband’s heart.

It has never flown so close. In all the years Screecher hasbeen trying to make a place for Husband, they have been trying to repay him, insome ways. Because Husband’s heart was Screecher’s first roost, even if theyhave never truly been there before. It is warm, and bright, and like the neststhey have tried to build, it is always too cruelly confined by things aroundit. Sometimes things which Husband has done himself. Sometimes wicked gardenerswho have come and torn out branches. Ripped out nesting, and lit fire to the edges.Taught Husband to make his heart smaller.

But when Love reaches it, Husband’s heart bursts like asong.

Like a star bursting to life in the dark place where peoplehave hurt the ones he loves.

They love.

Screecher has loved Husband for a very long time.

Thenvunin… Thenvunin never knew how much, before thatmoment. Never could have comprehended that any living thing would love him –him! – with an affection that defied eternity. Even knowing Uthvir’s love hasspanned centuries, part of him has never quite believed in it. Not that he has disbelieved it, either, but some part ofhim, he knows now, had always wondered if it were truly possible. To be soloved. To be so…

But he feels it.

He feels a love for his own self that he has never known,beating in his own heart, now.

For a moment it stills him. Like a dream, it’s a moment thatseems to take forever, and is over in the blink of an eye. And then he draws ina breath, and his chest aches. The knife in it burns like the light spillingover his skin; like the weighted things at his back. Wings. He has wings! The thought flits through him in mingled aweand perfunctory understanding. Of course he does. Of course he has wings, howelse would he fly?

But there is more to worry about than wings.

Thenvunin scoops up his daughter, as the Templars stagger. Kel. Kel, hatchli… baby. Daughter. Hisdaughter, and that man still has onehand on her, still too close. Thenvunin snatches his child away from the fiend,and then gathers up his son, too, the angles of his body still awkward but heis used to that. Awkward body. Too many limbs, and his chest with too muchache, and his arm hurting but these are things he knows. Things that matterless than his children, and getting them away from danger.

Stay away from my children!

The Templars are blown back again, but they are quicker torecover, this time, chasing after them as Thenvunin struggles up the stairs.Battering at the heavy door, with wings and arms and the air is turning again,now, drowning him as the rush of light and energy starts to sink, like theheavy weights of his children in his arms. Irenan and Kel try to kick at thedoor, as a rush of sinking, sucking energy hits Thenvunin from the Templarsbelow. The Templars, gaining. He puts his children at the door and turns toface them, using his wings to block them, making himself seem bigger andscarier. He will rend them apart!

The last lightbulb in the room dies.

The heavy door flies open; torn back off of its hinges, aspitch darkness floods down the stairwell.

“Nanae!” Kel cries, running right into it.

Irenan is not far behind her.

“Go, go,” Thenvunin murmurs, as something strikes him again.Curses and prayers. His shoulder twists and the knife wound stretches, andbleeds. Red droplets spattering against brown and white feathers. He careenssideways, but something catches him. A long, dark tendril, that curls aroundhim as whispers thicken in the air.

“The other one! Shit, the other one’s here!” one of theTemplars cries.

“Yes. I am,” Uthvir whispers, with an unspoken promise ofviolence somehow carrying through the words.

“Maker-“

The words do not get further than that before they arechoked off in a scream. Thenvunin staggers, supported by things unseen as hefinally makes his way into the darkened room. He cannot see much, but eventhough the air itself is blacker than night, he can see his children. Andflashes, here and there; of sharp things moving downwards, cracking where theyrace over the stairs behind him, and rush through the air over his head. Hehears the mage who took his children cry out, once, and then go silent; hedoesn’t spare much feeling for him.

He makes it back to his children, to a far corner of theroom, and the sense of a familiar hand settling on the shoulder that doesn’thurt.

“Thenvunin…” Uthvir whispers.

He almost falls over, again. Heavy. Too heavy. His chesthurts; his heart hurts, too much, ohhis love, his children, he needs… he can’t… it hurts…

“Help,” he manages.

Hush, the darksays. We have you.

He gathers Irenan and Kel to him, and falls into dizzyingdarkness of a different kind.

Irenan loves his family.

He knows it’s not really the ‘done thing’ for mostthirteen-year-olds to be all mushy about it, and he’s not a really bigexception on that front, but he’d never deny it. In fact he’d probably clockanyone who suggested otherwise – and some people have. Being adopted’s notalways easy, for a lot of reasons, and being adopted by parents who look sodifferent has its own issues.

But Irenan loves his family. He loves his nanae, who scoopedhim up out of a public orphanage when he was too little to remember anythingmore than some bright colours, and the plastic tray of his highchair, and theway their leather jacket felt underneath his cheek. His loves his papae, whodotes and fusses and is always worrying if his horns are itching, if his hairis alright, if he’s hungry or cold or lonely. He loves his Gramma, who made himhis favourite pink flamingo costume when he was four, and who always calls himher ‘tiny grandson’, even though he’s nearly as tall as Nanae now and everyone knows he’s probably going to be big. Heloves his little sister, who’s always quiet and shy until she decides to beanything but. He loves his big sister, who lives out in the wilds and raises dragons and used to let Irenan ride onher shoulders until he got too big for it.

He loves his family. He trusts them to be his anchor in thestorms. So even though his nanae can get dark and creepy and weird, he’s neverafraid of them. And when his papae suddenly starts glowing and sprouting wings,he’s still more worried about the knife in his chest than what he might havedone.

There’s… a lot of blood.

And his hands are still cuffed. He’s got them slung around Kel,anyway, but he can’t exactly pull out the knife and he probably shouldn’t because then his father might bleed to death, but there’s so muchmagic going around he doesn’t know if having the knife in there is keeping himfrom healing or what. He doesn’t know exactly what his papae’s done, or if it’sall his nanae – his papae’s not a mage,he’s not supposed to be able to do anything – and he’s almost crying, becausethe place their in is dark and full of whispers. But they’re his nanae’swhispers.

His nanae came. He was right after all.

And they’ll know what to do, but they’re also busy fightingoff the Templars, so they can’t do it right now. His papae crumbles in a heapof blood and light and wings. Kel wriggles her way out of his grip, but Irenandoesn’t fight her, just makes his way over and helps roll their father onto hisback. So the knife doesn’t get pushed further in. He’s sweating, and his handsare shaking. His ears keep ringing with the sound of the shot that had goneoff, in the basement. The one that had nearly hit him. And the guy holding theknife to his sister; the knife in his father. The one that had nearly killedher, while all Irenan could do was watch.

He can hear them screaming, now.

He wonders if it’s messed up that he likes it. That everyshout they make, makes something in him answer with a vindictive snarl ofsatisfaction. He hopes his nanae is tearing them apart.

But then he remembers. He’s a big brother. He reaches overand covers Kel’s ears, because Papae can’t exactly do it, now can he?

She squirms.

“Irenan-”

“No, don’t listen,” he says. “Papae wouldn’t want you to.”

Kel gives him a mulish look, even though her face is alltear-streaked and messy, and she’s shaking, too. But then she reaches up anddeterminedly clamps her hands over his own ears, and Irenan kind of laughs.Bubbling and hysterical.

He hopes Nanae knows which one held the knife to her. Hehopes they rip off all of his fingers.

It takes a while for the screaming to stop, so he thinksthere’s a decent chance of it. He’s not sure where exactly their nanae is, in the dark. They can change shape a lot,and Irenan’s kinda thinking that they might actually be everywhere. But not long after the screaming stops, some lightstarts to filter in through the windows. The door downstairs swings shut with asolid clunk. Irenan starts to makeout more things about their surroundings. Dusty walls, and a table, and whatlooks like the front room of a house that hasn’t seen a lot of kind use. There’ssome bird crap on the walls, and cracks on the floor. Plants growing throughthe windowsills here and there. Outside he sees trees and bushes, rather thanother buildings or sidewalk.

Nanae walks over. Not really seeming to come from anywherein particular, but not exactly stepping out of nowhere, either. Papae’s stoppedglowing, although he’s still bleeding. Irenan has to resist the urge to rushover to his other parent as they check his father’s knife wound, but he doesn’thave to resist it for long. A blink, and his nanae’s fiddling with the lock onhis handcuffs, and then pulling them off.

Kel clings to their nanae’s side, latching on, and Irenantips forward and their arms come around them both. However small his nanae is,they never seem to have a problem holding everyone.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, now,” they say. “Nanae’sgot you.”

Kel starts bawling, then, and Irenan… doesn’t do muchbetter.

He’s not really sure how Nanae gets them all out of thederelict old farm house and into the car. He thinks they grow an extra pair ofarms, maybe, but he’s not really paying a whole lot of attention. Outside it’sa clear and sunny day, just as it had been a few hours ago. Nanae makes him andKel get in the car, but doesn’t stop them from watching as they heal Papae. Theair tingles with the spells they start casting, as they pull out the knife, andthen straighten the wrong angle of his arm.

Irenan watches their fingers carefully brush the hair out ofPapae’s face, and something in him eases, just a little. Something he didn’trealize was still tight and hard, that eases even more when he sees the steadyrise and fall of his father’s chest.

From the car window, he can see his papae’s wings betternow, too. Big and mottled, and there’s something kinda familiar about them, butnot in a way that he can place. There are feathers on other parts of him, too,Irenan realizes. And his fingernails are black, and clawed like Nanae’s areright now. Long and sharp as talons. His shape doesn’t change back, even as helies there.

“Is Papae okay?” Kel asks. She’s holding Irenan’s shirt sotight it feels like it might rip.

Nanae looks up.

“He’ll be fine,” they say. “He’s just very, very tired now.Magic’s not easy, especially when you’ve never done it before.”

“How’d Papae do magic?” Kel asks.

Nanae looks up at them, and is quiet for a long moment.

“He made a deal with a spirit,” they finally say. “It’sharder for non-mages to do that, but it is possible. He was… it was very braveof him.”

They brush a hand over Papae’s cheek. Irenan almost thinkshe sees it shake, a little.

“We have to go,” Nanae says, finally. “There are things totalk about – I need to check you both, first, and make sure you’re okay – but wecan’t stay here. And we can’t go back to the apartment. I’m sorry. We’ll haveto go someplace else, and it will take some driving to get there. So I need youtwo to just hold on, until we’re safe. Can you do that?”

Kel nods, straight away. Irenan hesitates a little longer.He has a lot of questions, but… he understands.

He does.

So he nods, too. Nanae smiles at them, and then he has themcome out of the car – first Kel, then Irenan – and checks them over. Healingtheir bumps and scrapes and bruises. Irenan hadn’t even realized how bad hiswrists were hurting until they stop. Kel gets double-checked when Irenanmentions that the shapeshifting stranger used magic on her, and their nanae isquiet like they’re being very deliberatelyquiet; like they don’t want to do anything that might seem frightening. Buttheir hands are gentle and careful as ever as they cast their last healingspell.

Then they have to fit Papae into the car.

Wings and all.

In the end Irenan helps fold him into the backseat, whichleaves just enough room for Kel to squeeze in with his head on her lap. Then hegets into the front seat, while Nanae drives.

He thinks he sees their hands shaking on the wheel.

His own have stopped, but only just barely.

“Are you okay, Nanae?” he asks, quietly.

They look at him.

And then they reach over, and brush a hand across his head.Between his horns. For a few seconds, their eyes slide shut. Like they’retrying to feel the whole car, and everyone in it; and know they’re alright.

Irenan gets it.

“We’ll all beokay,” they promise.

It’s not the easy answer. But Nanae doesn’t give easyanswers, they give true ones, and right now, he thinks that works better than aplatitude would. Because it wasn’t okay. None of that was okay, and now thatthey’re not in danger, he thinks he might be angry. He thinks he might be hurt,and furious, and frustrated, and a little broken by it all. But it will be okay. It will be okay again,because his nanae said so and because they wouldn’t tell him that if it was impossible.

He lets out a breath. They put their hand back on the wheel,and then start the car again. The engine rumbling quietly as they pull off downan unfamiliar dirt road, overgrown and dusty.

There’s nothing on the radio, and nobody seems inclined tolook. After a while the crunch of the road beneath the tires starts to lullthrough him, and exhaustion takes over everything else. They’re safe. Nanae’sgot them. Irenan shuts his eyes and leans his head against the window, andwants to be home so badly it burns. He’s too big to go crawl into his parents’bed anymore, but that’s exactly wants he want to do. He wants to wake up in it,five years old again, with Nanae chasing away the last of his bad dream, and Papaesnoring gently beside him, and his baby sister snug against his chest andprobably drooling on him.

He doesn’t know if that’s a real memory, or just a bunch ofimpressions fitted together. But it works, and so he imagines it, as the carrolls along and the scent of rotten basement lingers like a bad aftertaste.

Eventually, the dirt road turns off onto a bigger dirt road.And then onto the highway, just like it’s a weekend trip to visit Eda. Nanaekeeps driving until it’s after dark, before turning off and up another dusty,winding Fereldan road, and into the parking square for a motel that they’venever stayed at before. Kel’s asleep by then, slumped against the seat withPapae’s head still in her lap, but both of them are breathing and neither ofthem are bleeding. Irenan thinks he should pick up his sister, help out withthe heavy lifting; but Nanae tells him to go open the door to their room, andhe does, too tired to really manage much else.

Not that Nanae looks much better. They carry Kel in first,and then Papae, though. Settling them both onto the same bed, before they closethe door, and start laying down wards.

By the time they finish, they’re staggering.

Irenan moves reluctantly over to the unoccupied bed.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Nanae says, catching him by the shoulder. “Ionly warded one bed. You’ll have to cram in together.”

Irenan feels a rush of relief. He nods in acknowledgement,not even inclined to complain as he strips to his shorts, and escapes more ofthe lingering scent of that basement. He wants a bath and a shower and maybe asteam clean, some salve for his horns and oil for his scalp, for he barelymanages to get himself and Kel under the covers. Nanae tucks in Papae, then pullssome blankets off of the second bed, and settles down onto the floor besidehim, with Papae’s wings dipping off of the mattress. Really close to a lampthat’s probably going to meet a tragic fate in the morning.

Whatever, he thinks.

They’ll deal with it when everyone wakes up. Just like allthe questions they haven’t gotten around to yet.

#Anonymous #filled prompt #frat reincarnation au #everyone is an abom au #dark but not ME dark au

31 notes · View notes

dismalzelenka · 3 years ago

Text

100 Days of Writing: Day 4

for @the-wip-project

Damn this was a hard one. The blog link in the original post was a really good one, and hella informative in terms of mechanics of writing.

I'm going to attempt to do this for my ot3 in The Place Where I Belong, because I realized in this half of the story I've been treating them as sort of a unit for this concept. So here we go! Spoilers below for The Place Where I Belong if you haven't completed Arc 4 - Out On a Limb. Also it's long, so for these two reasons, I have placed it under a cut.

The physical goal for all three of them, and really for the whole team (+Velanna, Sigrun, Malcolm) is to separate Justice from Anders. This is where I've been treating them as a single unit. But individually, independent of the plot at large, they're all motivated by different things that ultimately point in similar directions.

Journey wants to find a place that feels like home. At this point in the story, the only thing that's ever felt like a home she wanted was being with Anders, and his continued survival and freedom hinge on separating him from Justice.

Anders wants to find a new purpose in life and rediscover who he is without Justice defining him. He can't really do that as long as Justice is in his head. (And yes, he also wants to survive to some extent, but as we've seen from the conclusion of arc 2, self preservation is not exactly his strong suit.)

Nathaniel wants to keep his family together, his real family, this ragtag team of Wardens he fell into when his biological family treated him like shit. As complicated as his feelings are towards Anders at this point in the story, Anders is a part of that family, and Anders' full reinstatement into the Wardens hinges on Justice's removal.

Now, at first glance I was like okay, well the conflict impeding this goal for all three of them is the fact that (trying to keep this as spoiler free as possible for unposted chapters which is why it's intentionally vague) they've hit several major roadblocks already in terms of how the fuck they're going to make this happen. They're academic, political, and personal in nature. But there's also relationship conflict between the three of them that comes into play also, and I want to explore those as well because they kind of weave into the fabric of this clusterfuck they all find themselves in as the rest of the story progresses.

Journey's home is with Anders, in her mind. Now that she knows about Anders and Nathaniel during her time away, she's having to reconcile the fact that Anders isn't just hers anymore. This is complicated, because it isn't even so much that they've outright negotiated a poly thing and she's on the fence about it. Rather, currently everything is in a vague "we'll figure it out but it's on the back burner because we're on a tense time crunch with other problems" state. But regardless of where their relationships actually stand, in her mind, the reality is that while Anders still loves her, he's obviously given a piece of his heart to Nathaniel while she's been away. She's a very observant person, and currently two things are patently obvious: 1. that Anders clearly loves Nathaniel too, and 2. that it hasn't diminished his capacity for love and devotion towards her. So whatever solution shakes itself out, in her mind, it has to be one where Anders gets to be happy. And the possibility of there not being a solution where she and Anders both get to be happy together scares the shit out of her.

Anders wants to find who he is. In the three months at Vigil's Keep, he's spent the whole time wearing an inhibitor cuff that suppresses Justice’s active presence in his mind. (The downfall being, of course, that he can't use his magic with it on either.) Consequently he's been able to pursue this relationship with Nathaniel he's fallen into free of the force that's quietly influenced him for over a decade, and for the entirety of his relationship with Hawke. So the two arms of his love life essentially begin with very different colors, because with Hawke, Justice has been present and part of their entire history together. Hawke has had conversations with Justice and considers him a friend. He doesn't know what Justice not being around is going to do to the fabric of their relationship they've woven together. It's not that he worries she won't love him without Justice — he just doesn't know what it's going to do to their dynamic. That combined with the uncertainty of what's going to happen with Nathaniel really fucks him up when it comes to keeping his head objective during the actual mission itself.

Nathaniel. Oh boy. He's been pining for Anders since before Anders left the Wardens the first time. He never spoke up before because Anders and Karl got together before he was able to, and he valued them both too much to stand in the way of their happiness. This entanglement with Anders, in his mind, was never supposed to happen in the first place. He prides himself on separating his duty from his desires - he's had to do it his whole life, and he resents it sometimes, but at this point it's a part of who he is. He's told himself the whole time he and Anders are together that if Hawke comes back into Anders' life, he's not going to stand in the way of their marriage either. Except, the dude is in love with Anders. Like crazy. So now that Hawke is back, he's working overtime to stamp those feelings back down under the floorboards. He cares about Anders, Anders belongs with them and is a part of their family, and being around him hurts but in his mind he's duty bound to follow through on this mission because the alternative is losing Anders again. And the thought of that hurts more than the prospect of spending the rest of his life watching the man he loves in someone else's arms.

If you've been following this fic and paid attention to the tags in the story, it is in fact tagged as a triad, and the three of them do eventually figure their shit out. That's the ultimate interpersonal goal. But it's definitely going to be a bumpy road getting there.

So yeah! I guess I didn't answer the questions quite as concisely as I probably could have, but I think I've definitely separated out their motivations and goals a little clearer than they were before I did this post. So. Goal achieved. ☺️

#100daysofwriting #the place where i belong #anders #f!hawke #nathaniel howe #diz writes #meta #fanfic meta #fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

socialattractionuk · 4 years ago

Text

I’ve started dating again while in lockdown with my ex

I matched, I chatted and soon I found myself getting ready for my first virtual date (Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

‘You’re always on your phone,’ he said, as my index finger was poised to make yet another left swipe. ‘What are you doing?’ I mumbled something about a group chat with school friends and locked my phone so he couldn’t see Mark from East London’s profile.

This was one of the many times I’ve had to think on my feet (or fingers) over the last few months, as I’ve been nervously navigating the world of online dating whilst living with my ex.

Being single at 37 – when I’d been in love and trying for a baby the year before – wasn’t how I’d imagined 2020 would pan out, let alone sharing a home with my now ex during a global pandemic.

We’d broken up in late 2019, a painful but mutual decision after months of strain. On New Year’s Eve, I’d left the flat we owned to travel the world and reset.

Three months and a fling with a gorgeous Kiwi musician later, I had a spring back in my step. I was getting used to the idea of being single again in my late 30s and wanted to move forwards. But Covid-19 had other plans.

Visit our live blog for the latest updates: Coronavirus news live

I was forced to return early. Most of my friends were living with partners or young families, and with no desire to put them at risk, my only option was to move back in with my ex.

Naturally, I was frustrated. Why should self-isolating with my ex have to get in the way of moving on? Cautiously, I began to browse Bumble.

If you’ve been on the apps during lockdown you’ll know that online dating is on steroids right now. Suddenly there are single men everywhere with a lot of time on their hands, keen to lure you into breaking lockdown rules.

I matched, I chatted and soon I found myself getting ready for my first virtual date with an actor from South London. That’s when the next wave of awkward questions came up.

‘How come you’re looking all done up?’ asked my ex suspiciously as I sauntered through the kitchen with freshly washed hair, a slick of kohl liner and glossy lips for the first time that year.

‘Oh, just going on Houseparty for Emma’s birthday – thought I’d make the effort.’

I hated lying. I still care a lot for my ex, and I knew it would hurt him to see me talking to other guys just as I wouldn’t want to find out about any of his goings on.

With no idea of when lockdown would end, I didn’t want to make things any more difficult (Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I’d been faithful throughout our relationship and living together with no idea of when lockdown would end, I didn’t want to make things any more difficult.

So, there I was, on my first virtual date, vodka tonics lined up for Dutch courage. I’d carefully scheduled it for when my ex was busy on Zoom. Mr Actor looked like his photos and was clearly used to the camera; the flirting started ramping up.I was laying in what I hoped was a coquettish angle on my bed, twirling a strand of hair in one hand, when the door swung open.

‘What are you doing? I’ve been calling through for ages, do you want to watch the next episode of…’ My ex stopped short, suddenly realising I was talking to a guy. I frantically, straightened my outfit, put my phone face down and glowered at him. ‘Don’t just burst in, I’m busy!’

‘Clearly,’ he muttered as he shut the door behind him. We never spoke of it again.

Things never went further with Mr Actor but with no job and endless days of lockdown to fill, I wanted to give online romance another chance.

Dating chat during a pandemic has been pretty consistent: Bumble Boy asks ‘What’s your lockdown situation? Are you home alone or living with nightmare housemates?’ and I have to think carefully before answering. After all, how many guys are comfortable hearing that you still live with your ex of five years?

I keep it vague until I grow more comfortable with someone and feel they were worth opening up to.

The first time I did, surprisingly it wasn’t a deal breaker. Finance Boy responded positively. ‘That must be tough for you, but you’ve got a great attitude, why make things more difficult for you both?’ It was one reason why he became my first ‘real date’ when Boris threw us singletons a lifeline and allowed park meet-ups.

I still had to field awkward questions back home like why I was at the park for so long and find a reason for wearing my fancy playsuit to go on a bike ride, when I’d been living in joggers for six weeks.

Lockdown with my ex has been more harmonious than I’d ever thought it could be.

We’ve cooked our favourite meals together, been glued to the latest season of Ozark and even teamed up for a family quiz. So there have been moments when we’ve been laughing and I’ve asked myself, ‘How did we lose all of this?’

Deep down, however, nothing has changed. Lockdown is an artificial bubble and has removed the temptations that broke us in the first place, such as my ex’s hedonistic behaviour. But it won’t change the fact we’ll go our separate ways once life returns to ‘normal’.

More: Home and Away

Home and Away spoilers: Ben collapses in front of Maggie

Peter Andre 'scared' about daughter Princess becoming a teenager and getting boyfriend

Ander Herrera tells Paul Pogba how to complete Real Madrid transfer

My ex has told me he has zero interest in a new relationship but it’s helped me see that being single in my late 30s isn’t a closed door.

I also know I want to change my living arrangements as soon as it’s feasible, gain space from my ex and build a new life for myself.

And perhaps the very chaste Victorian-style dating scene of Lockdown London has been a blessing in my situation: it goes at a slower pace, I can get to know someone the old-fashioned way and there is no sudden pressure to get naked for the first time.

That might have proved problematic with my ex in the next room. With another social distance date lined up this weekend, it looks like I might have to come up with some creative excuses for my sexy new cycling gear.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]

Share your views in the comments below.

MORE: Lockdown has made us feel like we're newly dating again

MORE: Lockdown is healing my broken heart

MORE: What it's like to date during a pandemic

0 notes

ponticle · 8 years ago

Text

7pm [12 Hours to Solve This Anderstair Challenge]

Alistair x Anders, Modern AU, Coffee Shop Universe

[challenge masterpost]

[Read it on Ao3]

Chapter Summary: Alistair officially misses his flight home. He tries to get the conversation back on track, but they again get diverted into memories. Rated M: implied sex, language, and this memory is a bittersweet one.

7pm

“Oh my god…” I breathe. “I've never felt so fucking good in my life…”

He laughs and rolls off of me to face the ceiling. Because of where we are in the bed, his head lolls off the edge when he tries to relax it. I reach across to pull him back toward the middle.

“Was this worth missing your flight?” I ask.

He laughs, “If I get to do that every time I miss a flight, I'll never fly again.”

I catch my breath and look at him seriously, “Can I blow you?”

He shakes his head. “I'm good.”

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief, “Can I at least touch you?”

He rolls toward me. “No… I want to talk to you.”

“Let's do both,” I suggest. I reach down and grab him. I don't know why he'd reject my advances. He's obviously super aroused and I just fucked him in every position we know—he must be aching to come.

“Anders,” he rolls his eyes and backs away from me. “Come on… we need to figure this out.”

I'm trying not to read too much into it, but we've had sex dozens of times this weekend. Why is he drawing the line now, of all times—when we've said we love each other; when we’ve made overtures; when we should be the most ready to fuck?

“Do you regret this?” I ask.

He squints at me skeptically.

“Do you wish you'd walked away from me on the sidewalk?” I bite my lip.

He grabs the side of my neck and thumbs the corner of my mouth.

“Andy…” he clears his throat. “I love you. I'm ready to talk… and I don't want to waste another minute.”

We blink and breathe in unison.

“Okay,” I sit up suddenly. “I need you to put pants on.”

He laughs. “If it will help.” He crosses the room and opens his suitcase, which was neatly packed, to find a pair of sweats.

“Better?”

“I mean, no…” I tease, “...but yes.”

He sits back down on the bed with me. “How can we guarantee that we don’t break up again?”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” I answer.

He scowls.

I grab his hands, “I mean, I don’t want to break up—” I pause. I’m talking like it’s already happened—like we’ve already solved this. “...if we got back together, I wouldn’t want to… but there aren’t any guarantees…”

He looks crestfallen.

“That being said,” I lean in and kiss him as punctuation, “I was really different when we were together before…”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t very confident,” I say. “I was unhappy with my life in general and that made it easier to think that you would value me as little as I valued myself.”

He squints at me. “I wished I could shake you until you saw how great you were…”

“Right? I’m super hot and smart!” I laugh.

He hits me with a pillow.

“I had to come to it on my own, I guess.” I shrug and smile.

“So you’re new—do you think that’s really enough to fix us?” he asks.

“I hope so.”

“When did you start to feel different?” he asks.

“Hmm…” I squint, trying to remember. “I think when I went back to school and didn’t fall behind.”

He nods and smiles.

“I actually rose to the top of my class really quickly,” I continue. “Before I knew it, people were coming to me for help.”

“I’m not surprised,” says Alistair. He pulls me down into his chest and hugs me.

It feels so good, I don’t even try to get my mouth free of his skin. My next few sentences are nearly unintelligible, but he gets the idea: I was old Anders and then suddenly, I was new Anders. And new Anders loves him—more than old Anders was ever capable.

“How’s everyone at home doing?” he asks.

“In what way?” I ask.

“Like… is everyone well? Doing cool stuff?” he laughs.

“Yeah, definitely…” I sit up, “Bethany got into law school,” I offer.

“That’s great,” he says. “It seems like everyone is growing up.”

We sigh together.

“I remember the first time I saw you after our separation… at the white coat ceremony,” he says. “I could tell you were different already.”

Alistair looks forward to going back to BU. Medical school was a stressful, but wonderful, time in his life. It’s not only when he started to feel like an adult, but also when he met the two best friends he’s ever had. …and now they’re together, which is strange, but good. He’s starting to be happy for them. So tonight, when they all go to the white coat ceremony together, it will feel like he’s going home.

The school still smells the same, even though this building didn’t used to exist. It’s a newer addition based on some grant from the National Institutes of Health. It’s supposed to be for research, but Alistair thinks they’re using the money to court more donors at events like this one. As evidence of that fact, there’s an elaborately stocked open bar at this black tie event.

Black ties and white coats—the clothes that define his life. He’s having a black tie wedding too.

Icis didn’t go here, of course. She went to Tufts, which makes them rivals, in a way. She harasses him frequently. It’s all good natured and gentle. She’s wonderful.

“Hey,” says Dorian. “I’m glad you made it… I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“Why would you say that?” Alistair asks.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure… I just didn’t know if you’d want to come back to Boston…”

It’s an innocuous sounding sentence, but Dorian and Alistair both know what he means—that Anders lives here.

“Well, you know I love visiting the old alma mater,” Alistair jokes.

Icis smiles at them both and departs to find the bar. She’s great in groups. She’ll probably have a whole flock of new friends before the night is over. Alistair is slightly less good. He’s nervous in crowds and he feels strange being back in his old stomping ground.

“How does the new class look?” Alistair asks Dorian. They stand side by side and fold their arms, sizing up the group.

“Like idiots,” says Dorian. “There’s never been a class like 2011…”

They both laugh.

“Some of them aren’t hard on the eyes, though,” says Dorian. He points to a clump of young men on the opposite side of the room.

Alistair laughs. He hasn’t really looked, but it isn’t because of Icis, exactly. He can’t remember how to be interested in people who don’t fall explicitly into his lap. He knows it has to do with Anders, but he doesn’t admit that—even internally. It hurts too much—still.

Dorian is looking, though—deeply. It doesn’t matter that Cullen is just a few feet away at the bar. Their relationship seems solid, so it’s safe, in Alistair’s estimation.

“Where is Cullen anyway?” Alistair asks.

Dorian gestures vaguely toward the bar behind them. “I think he saw Renee.”

“Renee’s here?” asks Alistair. He likes Renee Trevelyan. He used to be a student of Cullen’s and he’s sort of a friend of theirs now. He looks up to Dorian, especially. “What’s Renee doing at a white coat ceremony?”

Dorian shrugs. “Go ask him.”

Alistair turns and takes in the scene. Cullen’s head pokes up a bit above everyone else’s, so he finds them easily: Cullen and Renee and—holy fucking shit.

“Dorian,” he whispers, curling his fingers into the fabric of Dorian’s cuff.

“What?” Dorian looks at him incredulously. “You’re wrinkling me.”

“Dorian… tell me I’m losing my mind,” Alistair stammers.

“You’re losing your mind. Happy?”

Alistair rolls his eyes and gets even closer to Dorian’s face. “Anders is over there…”

“What?” Dorian’s eyes widen. “Where?”

“Talking to Cullen…” Alistair lets the words escape through a clenched jaw in case anyone can lip-read in their immediate vicinity. Not that saying Anders’ name is an egregious error… but it feels intimate—that name on his lips, in his mouth. “Dorian, am I losing my mind or is that him?”

“It’s him,” confirms Dorian.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Alistair breathes.

“Go ask him.”

Alistair’s mouth drops open. “Are you nuts?”

“Fine. I’ll ask him,” offers Dorian.

Alistair wants to argue, but Dorian is already walking away. He sidles up to Cullen and wraps an arm around his back. It’s a gesture Alistair knows well—possessive and statement-making. He’s allowed; he’s certainly fought hard enough for this kind of freedom.

And then it happens, Anders turns so that Alistair can see his face. He looks perfect—full of life and zeal and something new that Alistair hasn’t seen before: a confidence he doesn’t expect.

Icis is suddenly at his side. “I got you some champagne,” she offers.

He smiles and takes the glass. At the time same, several other women from his class recognize him and start the usual questions: where do you practice? What’s your specialty now? Etc. etc.

He smiles and answers, and Icis shows off her ring—it is quite beautiful. He keeps looking over his shoulder, though. He can see Anders doing this thing with his hair… he pushes his fingers in at the crown and pulls the top section to the extreme right side of his face. A few bangs always fall back into his eyes. It’s a gesture Alistair thinks of often.

Then something happens—Anders rushes toward the exit. Everyone looks a bit bewildered. Alistair is about to chase him when Dorian appears at his left ear.

“He’s in this class,” whispers Dorian. “And he’s here with Renee…”

“With Renee?” Alistair gapes. “He’s like 12 years old…”

Dorian shrugs and smiles. “Anders seems kind of happy… well-adjusted, even, if you can believe such a thing.”

Alistair is torn. He wants Anders to be happy, of course, but happy without him hurts.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Icis. He kisses the top of her head absently, like she’s his sister, not his fiancé.

Outside, Anders is leaning against a railing. He looks like he’s going to vomit—so much for well-adjusted.

“Anders?” Alistair puts a hand on his shoulder—it’s a habit. “Are you okay?”

The look of pain on his face as he turns stops Alistair in his tracks. He had a speech planned—almost—but none of it works now. They run through the act of being cordial—every piece of it burns.

“I’m so proud of you,” Alistair finally blurts. It’s true—he is. Even though Anders looks like he’s falling apart right this second, he seems different—braver, taller, more intellectually substantial.

Anders kisses him. His mouth feels like home and Alistair makes fists at his sides to keep from ruining everything. He manages to push him away—he doesn’t know how.

The rest of the words pass like daggers between them. Alistair is getting married and there’s nothing to be done—they’re separate. They have new lives that they lead in different cities.

And suddenly it’s all done. Alistair gives a speech. It goes as well as it can under the circumstances. They leave. Anders goes on with his life—hopefully happily.

Presently

“I had no idea that affected you as much as it affected me,” I say sadly.

Alistair sighs, “I was fucked up for months. I wrote you a whole notebook of letters, actually.”

“You did?” I ask.

He nods. “They were really sad, mostly. All about the mistakes we made…”

I lean in and kiss him. He looks like he needs it.

“...but there were happy ones too. Some of them were about how great you seemed—how strong and fierce and brave.”

I blush. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand up and down my side gently. “And it was all true…”

“I love you,” I whisper. I’ve said that so much today, it’s starting to feel like punctuation.

“But the point is,” Alistair smiles, “That I knew you were different right then… and this week you proved it even more. You’re magic.”

#anderstair #anders x alistair #alistair theirin #anders #dragon age modern au #coffee shop universe #day 5 #dragon age fanfic

4 notes · View notes