#also no drawings my wrist is killing me (i <3 chronic pain)

[fungus-no69]

guys what if pc had a sex journal. what if, after doing sex they just pull out this book, write down the statistics and rate the experience out of ten i.e.

name: so and so dick size: inches probably idk im not american rating: 3/10 rude, smelt like wet socks, kept slapping my hips?? etc etc

i just think thatd be funny like ik that some LIs would want to see what the pc wrote abt them. The book is probably either really inconspicuous or just flaming letters SEX BOOK and on the back theres a blurb and everything

[thereluctantinquisitor]

for the prompt thing, if you want and have time, can I ask for Desi and Maaras, maybe the first time maraas sees Desi's scars on his wrists? Maybe... because... they're in bed... naked... > v >

Between The Lines

Desi x Maraas, approx 2700 words, most under the cut

Taking place a decent way into their relationship, when they are both comfortable enough to share some of the secrets they have kept for a very long time.

CW: Mentions of blood magic related self-harm.

There were a lot of things Maraas didn’t know about Desi.True, a lot of the time he was just willing to let it slide rather than risklighting the fuse beneath his red-haired firecracker. But as Desi let out aquiet hum of contentment and settled against Maraas’ bare chest, still coveredin a light sheen of sweat, Maraas found his gaze repeatedly drawn to the smallmage’s forearms. They were uncovered for the first time, but he had been solost in the heat of the moment that Maraas hadn’t even noticed right away. Theshame that washed over him was secondary only to the concern scraping at thewalls of his chest. Concern he would have to word very, very carefully as he eyed the series of red scars that ran like anangry ladder up his lover’s forearms.

“… Hey, Desi?”

“Mmm?��� The mage barely stirred, heavy-lidded and exhausted.He huffed out another warm breath, index finger drawing an absent pattern onMaraas skin. “Fuck, you want to talknow, don’t you?”

The remark that would have usually coaxed a chuckle out ofMaraas was met with silence. Instead, he couldn’t seem to keep the frown off hisface as he eyed those marks. You see, what he was about to do went against one of Maraas’ long-heldbeliefs, which was that other people’s problems were none of his business. Thatif they wanted his help or his input, then they’d ask for it. He knew it was a prettyflawed view of reality, sure, but it was one that had served him well thus far.It had kept his nose out of trouble and his heart out of disarray more timesthan he could count. But for the first time, lying there with Desi nestledagainst his side, the prospect of saying nothing felt infinitely worse. Infact, it felt impossible.

“You look good with that shirt off, you know,” Maraas saidslowly as he moved his hand, brushing his fingers up and down the curve ofDesi’s back. “Feel too warm tonight?”

Desi snorted, eyes still shut. Maraas could feel the mage’sheartbeat slowly coming down from their previous ah… engagement. That frantic thrumming gradually softened intosomething almost peaceful the longer they lay together atop the soft mattress.

“Hm. It was about time, I suppose,” Desi replied eventually. His offhand tone, clearly aiming for flippancy, just managed to miss the mark.It wasn’t easy to pick up, but Maraas caught it like a slightly mistimed notein a familiar song. There was hesitance to the words, their façade of nonchalancebrittle around the edges. Maraas shifted slightly, eliciting a frustrated groanfrom Desi, until he was sitting propped up against the bed’s backboard. Mutteringsome choice oaths, Desi slid his way upwards too, belligerently determined totuck himself beneath Maraas’ arm like a particularly grumpy birdling. Maraasraised his arm in invitation and settled it back around the mage’s small form,drawing him in close. After all, he wanted him held tight for what was to come.For what he knew he had to ask next. He wanted him to know that he was wanted,no matter what. That he was…

… well, loved.

“Got a decent collection of scars, there. That why you’realways wearing those long sleeves?”

“Yeah.”

The simple directness of Desi’s reply actually surprisedMaraas. He had been expecting something harsher; something that bit hard enoughto leave a mark. Instead, he felt Desi’s chest fill with breath then release itin a long, slow rush. He continued in a tone so flat it was like listening tothe weary confession of a man condemned.

“Suppose you want to know what they are, huh.  Why I’ve got them.”

Maraas eyed Desi for a moment. Well, eyed the back of themage’s head, at least. His face was hidden, turned towards his chest, chintucked downwards. He had also shifted so that his once-visible forearm was pressedagainst Maraas’ skin, those red lines angled to conceal them from view. Whetherhe had done it on purpose or subconsciously, Maraas couldn’t say. He wasn’tsure it really made a difference.

“Of course I want to know,” Maraas began, brushing hisfingers up and down Desi’s bicep, tracing a gentle line from his shoulder tothe bend of his elbow. “Look, I’m not gonna force you, but I do care. I won’t lie about that. If it’ssomething…”

Maraas let the sentence die on his lips and Desi snortedhalf-heartedly in response. He moved, naked body brushing against Maraas’ untilhe was also propped up against the backboard. Slowly, he raised a hand andpushed it through his hair, sweeping the stray strands off his face, eyesclosed. When he opened them, they were resigned, possessing thatbattle-hardened look of inevitable regret. That worried Maraas more thanany marks on the skin.

They were the eyes of a man as he stepped up to the noose and waited for the floor to drop.

“I… did things. In the past,” Desi began. His voice wasn’tfeeble or hesitant. It was just quiet. Solemn, the way one farewells a lovedone on the dock. “At the Circle. During my Harrowing…”

“I’ve heard of that,” Maraas said when Desi trailed off fora moment. He continued to caress the lines of the small man’s back as Desi tooka few small, steadying breaths. “Damn nasty trial. Aptly named, frankly.Someone had a dark sense of humour.” He paused thoughtfully. “Or no sense of humour.”

Desi nodded absently, his eyes now on the arm he had drawnin towards his chest. Slowly, as if expecting something horrible to happen, heturned his wrist until the series of red lines were visible once more. The pairstayed like that in silence for a while, tracing the marks with their eyes asthough they could be read like letters on a page. Right to left… left to right…and one that ran vertically through them all, breaking the pattern, cutting itlike the knife that made them.

“I was nineteen,” Desi continued slowly, regarding the darker line, “when I did that one. The long one. At my Harrowing.”

Maraas closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them againjust as quickly. “Blood magic?”

Desi hesitated for longer this time. Then, stiffly, henodded. Just once; a tight, almost pained gesture. Maraas could feel the wayDesi’s muscles tensed at the words, then even moreso after his silentadmission. He was like a wounded animal waiting for the killing blow, backedinto a corner, too tired even to raise its hackles and bare its teeth. Thatoverwhelming sense of resignation seemed to grow around Desi’s small figure, stilltucked protectively beneath Maraas’ arm as they lay side-by-side.

No… that won’t do at all.

Quietly, Maraas hummed and reached out with his free hand, taking Desi’s wrist in loose, surprisingly gentle fingers. He raised itslightly until it was bathed in the nearby candlelight and regarded thosemarks, arranged like a lattice across his pale skin. Sharp cuts. Frantic. Donein haste. A last resort. A final chance.

Yes. Maraas knew their kind. Perhaps not as well, but well enough.

“It… must have been hard for you, locked up in the Circle.”

A frown flickered across Desi’s face and he glanced up,meeting Maraas’ eye for the first time since they’d begun their dreadedpillow-talk. “Well, yeah. They had usall locked up like fucking caged animals. I just… had to do something. Maybe I just wanted to pissthem off, I don’t know. I hated them. The Templars. The Chantry. They saidblood magic was evil so I said why thefuck not.” He snorted, this time with true derision, bitter like a penny underthe tongue. “Might as well, after all. I just knew I needed to make sure. If… shit, if I fucked up my Harrowing, I…”

He broke off into a frustrated sigh, and balled his handtightly, the tendons standing out against his skin. Maraas, still caressingDesi’s wrist, shifted his grip, sliding his hand up until he could wrap itcomfortably around the mage’s trembling fist. As he spoke, he slowly worked histhumb beneath the smaller man��s curled fingers, coaxing his nails away from theflesh of his palm. Even after such a short time, they had left crescentshaped bites in his skin.

“Hard to tell yourself it’s worse than dying, or being madeinto one of those Tranquil, huh?” Maraas agreed, then shook his head. “Shit,they dangle you in front of a demon then kill you if it goes south. That’sfucked up no matter how you look at it.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Desi said, then swallowed. The motion wasalmost sickly, the way a man unused to sea swallowed while clutching the sideof the boat. “Do you, uh… I mean… because of…?” He trailed off again, eyespeeling away from Maraas to fix on his wrist. The question he failed to finishvoicing was obvious, and it burned in the quiet air.

Do you hate me?

The fact that Desi couldn’t even say the words told Maraasthat words alone would not be enough to reassure him. One by one, he uncurledhis fingers from around Desi’s fist and spread his hand wide, palm facingtowards the candlelight. Lit by the glow, the lines across its surface – theones read by fortune-tellers in the dusty back rooms of taverns – seemed off. Wrong. Too deep and too ragged inplaces, almost silver and raised against Maraas’ skin. For a time, Desiregarded them with a perplexed tilt of his head, his brow pulling into hisusual chronic frown. Then, without warning, he reached out and traced a fingeralong the lines of Maraas’ palm, hesitating the moment he felt the knotted skin. That frown slackenedslightly, and Maraas offered a somewhat rueful smile.

“Had to keep it low-key, travelling around with theValo-Kas. If Templars or the Chantry caught wind of it, I’d be in a whole worldof shit. Worse if word got back toPar-Vollen.” Maraas watched the tip of Desi’s finger follow the lines back andforth, shifting to a new one wherever the scars met like water flowing througha channel. “Can’t say I like the idea of having my mouth sewn shut, as much asyou might prefer it.”

“… How often?” Desi asked, choosing to ignore Maraas’attempt at deflection, those bright eyes flicking up to meet Maraas’ own.“How often did you do it? The scars are so…”

“Ah, not all that often,” Maraas admitted with ahalf-hearted shrug. “The scars are only bad because I’m a lot more used tocutting other people than myself. Plus I was always in a hurry, and didn’treally have time to be all precise about it. But hey, better that I lose a bitof my own blood if it means stopping someone else from losing all of theirs,right?”

Desi said nothing for a moment. Eventually he lowered hishand back down to Maraas’ chest, only this time he did not bother trying toangle his arm to hide the scars. He nestled himself back against Maraas’s side.The Vashoth watched silently for a moment as Desi stared at nothing inparticular, his gaze distant. Then, as if tickled by the memory of a good joke, Maraas let out alow, rumbling chuckle.

Desi attempted to ignore it at first, but his frustrationand curiosity got the better of him.“… What?”he demanded, tilting his head up. “This isn’t exactly something to laugh about, you know. We’ve bothbeen a pair of royal fuck-ups this whole time, and we didn’t even bother tofucking tell each other.”

“C’mon, you don’t find that funny?” Maraas asked, mouthcurving into a fond smile. Before Desi could fire back a reply, he scooped thesmaller mage up and onto his chest. The move elicited a yelp of surprise fromDesi, but his only act of defiance was to half-heartedly thump Maraas’ chestwith the flat of his palm. Then he settled back down against him, seemingly content with his new position. His small form rose and fell gently in time withMaraas’ chest.

“Yeah… a real bag of laughs,” Desi grumbled, voice oozingsarcasm, but Maraas could feel the tension spilling out of him as hepractically melted with boneless relief. Thatmust’ve been damn hard for him, Maraas thought as he reached out to cardhis fingers soothingly through Desi’s hair. Toput it all out there like that. Wonder what he thought I’d do?

It was a good question. One Maraas should have probably leftfor another day, if he possessed a single bone of restraint in his body.

Unfortunately, he didn’t.

“So… what did you think I’d say?”

Desi stirred at the sudden question and Maraas felt thetickle of his lashes as he opened his eyes. “You really have something againstletting me sleep, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Maraas laughed, his hand ghosting down the back ofDesi’s neck before continuing to trail along the length of his spine. “Guess I was justwondering… well, why now?”

There was silence for a moment, and Maraas swore he could feel Desi chewing over his words,formulating response after response and discarding them all like poorlywritten notes. He waited patiently, not wanting to rush him. After all, it wassomething that genuinely puzzled Maraas. Had he done something right? Or hadhe just not done anything particularlywrong?

“I just… you know…”Desi fidgeted uncomfortably, but made no attempt to distance himself fromMaraas, which the Vashoth took as a good enough sign. After a moment, Desi justrepositioned himself instead, scooting up a little to tuck his head beneathMaraas’ chin. “Figured if you were going to ditch me, it would be better if youdid it now. But… fuck… I mean, it would still…”

Maraas didn’t need to hear the words to know how thesentence ended.

It would still hurt.

He felt the rumble of Desi’s groan before he even heard thesound rise from the smaller man’s throat. It was part frustrated, part mortified.“Shit… see? If you’d just let mesleep I wouldn’t have to lie here and make an ass of myself!”

“Nah,” Maraas drawled,hoping that he sounded encouraging but probably treading more in the realm offond amusement. “So… what? You thought I’d run for the hills screaming at a bitof blood magic? Well shit, I’d say sorry for not living up to expectations, but you know howmuch I love disappointing people.”

Desi snorted, shaking his head, but Maraas was almostcertain he could feel the corner of the mage’s smile against his chest.  Or maybe it was a smirk. It was always hard totell with Desi, even when Maraas could see his face clear as the moon in thesky.

“Should be your profession, Mar-ass, considering how good you are at it.”

Yeah, okay, it was definitelya smirk.

Maraas laughed in response to the jibe, then let out acontent sigh, reaching up to drape his arm across Desi’s back, his hand coming torest at the small mage’s opposite hip.

“Y’know, I kinda like it when you’re like this,” Maraas mused,tracing circles on Desi’s bare skin with the tip of his finger. “Makes you seemmore human. Less like a demonic littleshit.”

Desi yawned with all the enthusiasm of a lounging cat. Evenhis reply was lethargic, as though he only gave it because it was required ofhim by some unspoken contract.

“Fucking b—” asecond yawn shivered through him, breaking up an otherwise satisfying insult, “—astard.”

Maraas grinned. He tilted his head down and pressed a kissinto Desi’s tousled hair. The red-head breathed out a long, slow hum at that,and Maraas felt his lashes flutter a few times before coming to an almostpeaceful rest. Grin softening, Maraas eased himself back, hand absentlystroking the side of Desi’s hip. A fond smile settled upon his face as he lethis own eyes drift closed.

“Yeah… love you too.”