#and die on this hill since you’re so keen on it

[webanglikethat]

ADDRESSING SOMETHING IMPORTANT.

so, I just want to address something I found out recently. await a long rant tbh.

while scrolling through my second account (which I do not use often — it’s on my iPad and it’s simply because I couldn’t be bothered to remember my login details for this account), I searched my username because I wanted to find a very old post I reposted about ice skating. while doing so, my name popped up in a post I had never seen before. thus, I realized my name was on a blocklist. I was extremely confused. I just recently, during May (don’t quote me on that though), began being active on Tumblr. before that, I was mostly lurking and reblogging fics from fandoms like Obey Me! or Haikyuu. so, I really didn’t know why a person would put me on such a blocklist.

turns out, they’ve been looking through the “narcissistic abuse” and “#narcissistic abuse is real”, “#raised by narcissists” and “surviving narcissism”. the reason why they put me on this blocklist is because they believe I am of the notion that every person with ND (narcissistic disorder) is an abuser. to say I was shocked would be an understatement tbh. I was so confused. I never stated that ANYWHERE on my account. so I began looking and combing through my liked on those tags. I did find two / three posts with those tags that I liked.

One of the posts in question says:

'you're so sensitive'

THANKS

i was never fully allowed to express my emotions as a child because when i did i would get yelled or made fun of”

narcissistic mother is the 13th tag. or for example this one:

now, me personally I don’t get it. I think it’s fucking ridiculous — and pardon my language but the anger has been rising more and more since reading all of that — to look and nitpick for every. single. post. I had no idea they were even tagged with narcissism. I never claimed that my mom nor dad are narcissists. sure they’re messed up. but I never claimed that. the fact that someone has extrapolated such a specific and serious claim from my online activity is not just incorrect, it's irresponsible. I get that people are trying to be aware and protective of others online. that is great, really. but this level of scrutiny and assumption? it is not helping anyone. it’s just creating more misunderstanding and division. can’t someone like stuff they relate to anymore? I got fucking trauma thanks to childhood abuse, can’t I be allowed to look at stuff and think “wow, me too!” without being afraid of misjudgment? that’s kind of the whole point of social media, isn't it? to connect, to feel less alone in our experiences? I should be able to see a post that resonates with my experiences, think "Wow, me too!" and hit that like button without fear of being misunderstood or labeled. it’s not about diagnosing anyone or pushing an agenda. it’s about finding moments of connection in this big, messy digital world despite the gloominess of the real one.

this person stated they weren’t 100% sure if I believed in this or not.

isn’t that just so stupid. you go out of your way, nitpick my name and then state you’re . Not Sure? you’re ruining my character and my image. I don’t even know you.

this is SO infuriating. I’ve worked hard to curate my online presence to reflect my interests and personality, only to have some clueless jerk — again, excuse my wording but I can’t be bothered to care about someone’s feelings right now — misinterpret my intentions and slap my name on a blocklist based on pure assumptions. it’s so insane that liking or relating to a post is enough to get you labeled and shunned without any direct statements or actions to back it up.

what’s even worse in my opinion is that this person admits they’re not sure of my stance. they have jumped to conclusions based on a handful of posts I’ve liked, without any solid evidence of my beliefs or intentions. it’s one thing to fight against harmful ideologies, but it’s another to vilify someone based on wild guesses.

to the person who put me on this blocklist: you don’t know me. you don’t know my experiences, my thoughts, or my intentions. your actions have real consequences, and you’ve chosen to act on baseless assumptions instead of facts. this isn’t activism; it’s a witch hunt. and it needs to stop. you claim to be fighting against harmful ideologies, yet here you are, perpetuating the very toxicity you pretend to oppose. you are not solving problems; you're creating them. you’re not protecting anyone; you're just stroking your own ego and patting yourself on the back for being such a "good person." Newsflash: good people don't engage in character assassination based on hunches and half-baked theories.

I mean for god’s sake — did it ever occur to your brain that your actions have real consequences? that by putting me on a blocklist, you're potentially cutting me off from communities, conversations, and connections that matter to me? all because you couldn't be bothered to do actual research or, God forbid, reach out and ask me directly about my views? and let's talk again about your spineless approach to this whole situation. you block me, refuse to engage, and then have the audacity to claim you're "not 100% sure" about my beliefs? if you're not sure, then why the hell did you take action? your uncertainty doesn't absolve you of responsibility; it makes your actions even more reprehensible.

so while you might never see this since 1) you blocked me, 2) are not replying to me on my second account — I demand an apology and a retraction. not just for my sake, but for everyone who’s ever been misjudged and slandered by people who think they know better. this isn’t how we build understanding and empathy. THIS is how we build walls and create divisions. and I refuse to be a part of that bullshit.

and to anyone else who thinks they can pull this kind of stunt: think again. I won't stand idly by while keyboard warriors with delusions of grandeur try to dictate who I am or what I believe. again. you don't know me, you don't know my story, and you sure as hell don't have the right to define me based on your misguided assumptions. I mean, who appointed you as the moral arbiter of the internet? what makes you think you have the right, the authority, or the wisdom to dictate who I am or what I believe? you’re not a hero; you're a nuisance, a digital mosquito buzzing around, causing irritation and spreading disease.

if you truly care about making the internet a better place, start by looking in the mirror. examine your own biases, your own knee-jerk reactions. ask yourself why you're so quick to judge, so eager to categorize people into neat little boxes that fit your worldview.

remember that behind every username is a real person, with real feelings and real experiences that you know nothing about. your actions have consequences, and it's high time you started considering them.

I won't be silenced. I won't be labeled. and I sure as hell won't stand by while you and your ilk try to dictate the terms of online existence. this is my story, my identity, my truth. and no amount of your misguided, self-important crusading will change that.

the mic is yours @cccat-in-a-meat-sack,

will you finally answer?

[petrolstationflowers]

Do your sims yearn for the dark embrace of the mines? Obsess over shiny stones, have a collection of hard hats? Why not give the Mining career a go, where they can dig up all the dirt and rocks they desire! This is the last in the batch of requests from Catrillion

This job is available for YA - Elder, and you can join via the Science Lab. No opportunities, uniforms, or books. Please note you will need Ambitions installed as you need the hidden Collecting and Consignment skills.

Three skill tones are available at work, with no boss or coworkers:

Swing Pickaxe (Athletics) Gather Resources (Collecting) Sell Findings (Consignment)

Please note Collecting and Consignment are both hidden skills, which you can track through MasterController. Athletics and Collecting appear at Level 2, but Consignment won't appear until level five. The carpool will also not show up until level 5. This career only goes up to level 8.

Levels under the readmore:

Pet Rock Collector - 10 simoleans p/h, 12:00 - 16:00, M-F Description - You’re down to eating wildflower salads and artistically stacking rocks you find in the park because you can’t afford decor. Times are tough and the grocery store isn’t hiring – what to do? Luckily the old mines have just opened up again and they’ll accept anyone without claustrophobia and enjoys hitting rocks. It’s better than the unemployment office, so get applying! Human Canary - 12 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - Nothing quite says “expendable,” like being told to monitor the gas levels lest they get too high. You’ve been given a box with a scary looking radar and a blinking light and told when the box starts beeping, sound the alarm and tell your fellow miners to get out. If you don’t die from carbon monoxide poisoning, there actually might be a career in this! Cart Pusher - 15 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - Another unfortunate soul gets to be the canary now you’ve moved on to bigger and better things. Granted, it’s only wheeling carts of coal and mined ore along the tracks so they can be sent to the surface, but you’re getting your step count in and there’s less danger of suffocating. Do a good job and you might actually get to sit down next time you’re promoted! Rock Inspector - 20 simoleans p/h, 14:00 - 22:00, M-F Description - A chair… a coffee machine… central heating… after too long working underground, this is bliss. You’re tasked with sorting the rocks into anything that might be remotely valuable, sorting your pebbles from your coal, your diamonds from your quartz. You’ll need a keen eye to tell them apart and plenty of patience, so stock up on podcasts and polish your magnifying glass. Consignment Carrier - 25 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 17:00, M-F Description - Finally, out into the fresh air! Your bosses have deemed you trustworthy enough to take the gems and coal to the local consignment store and barter the best prices for them. Strong arms are a must, as well as the gift of the gab – because if you get short changed, it’ll be coming out your pocket. Money Seeking Miner - 50 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - Fresh air is great and all, but there’s gold in them hills and you’ve got bills to pay. Since there’s been talk of mysterious yellow eyes in the mine, workers have quit en masse and management are offering big incentives to get back down in the pit. Plus they’ve promised that if you find anything fun, you get to keep it! Gem Seeker - 75 simoleans p/h, 06:00 - 14:00, M-F Description - The mines are lovely, dark, and deep, and you’ve spent so many hours down here, you’re forgetting what sunlight looks like. You’re in the more lucrative veins now, digging out gold and rubies as big as your hand, but you’ve heard of the legendary pink diamond and are determined to find it. Who knows, maybe that’s your ticket out of here? Mine Owner - 250 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 16:00, M-F Description - You’ve found it, the pink diamond in the rough! After swiftly selling it for millions of simoleans, you’re making enough to take over the mine itself and take over operations! What will you look for? Rainbow gems? Shang Simlan artefacts? Perhaps pull up as many space rocks as you can to try and entice the aliens? On the flip side, maybe you should get back into painting pet rocks with all your free time…

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: To MissyHissy's career building tutorial!

[cainache]

more butcher than man ♱ rockstar!eddie munson (reader goes by cady brocks, it’s her middle & last name!)

He'd known you weren't that bright the second he met you at that party in the hills six months ago. And no, he doesn't mean bright in the way you think. You’re smart, so damn smart. He means bright in just the way that you are. You're not a very happy girl.

Anyone who knew your insides could tell. If they’d taken the time to slice you open and personally talk with your organs, they’d know. You repulse at just about everything you do, and it makes him kind of sad. But he doesn't know how to tell you that—tell you that you’re the best and he kind of cares about you. No, he does care about you crazy, he just doesn’t know it yet. It’s so out of character for him, being serious with one girl.

He’s not going to tell you. He definitely won't. He has a reputation to uphold.

He's big bad Eddie fucking Munson.

He's been around the scene since he was twenty two—clawing his way out of Indiana with two guys he called his best friends, he's almost twenty seven now and has just about seen it all and more. At this point, it's like Corroded Coffin is never going to die.

He hopes they won't.

There's five of them now. Gareth, he's grown out his baby face, finally, has gotten ridiculously taller and more lean. Jeff, the tallest of them all, which hadn't been the case back home, his jaw as sharp as butcher knives. And Eddie, he’s everything and everywhere. He’s as quick as those butcher knives. Eddie likes to joke that all the drugs they did made them grow up all big and bad. They’re fucking rockstars.

The ones who didn't come from home, Tatum and Brooks. They're cool guys. Tatum's everyone's fuckin’ heartthrob, him and Eddie's names are always clashing in magazines at who's better with the ladies and occasionally guys. But it's Eddie, only because Tatum's got a chick who's been a soft secret for the last year and a half. They wonder, the media, what Tate's been doing recently. Why he’s been so silent with his night rendezvous that just randomly stopped. He doesn't give a minded fuck, he's keen on making sure the world doesn't dig its nails into Stella. She's a real sweet girl, Eddie knows, she's almost too sweet for Tate. Brooks is a different story, he's as loose as they come. He doesn't pick fights, he plays his music—get his job done, does the drugs, has the girls, and still manages to be at sound check early. Eddie doesn't understand how he does it. Really.

Crystal wishes he'd take some notes from Brooks.

Crystal's a dear. Corroded Coffin's all too dedicated manager, a woman who couldn't have kids and somehow ended up with five too old son's. Eddie loves her, she reminds him of his own before she passed.

But all of that’s besides the point. Right now is about you and how you’re a ticking time bomb he’s been trying to disengage for months now. He likes to think he’s made some progress.

Brooks thinks he’s stupid as fuck for getting caught up in a girl like you. But Eddie’s stop listening to Brooks around year two. So…

You play the guitar in a girl band called Bitten Lace. The names a bit much for you, but you didn’t have a say in it. It’s a four women show, one that makes you feel queasy and really silly. This was a stupid high school thing you guys did for some extra cash to get out of high school and into college; Boston wasn’t fun. But at one particular, silly, wedding—an all too rich man from New York was there and he liked what he saw.

You weren’t ready to pick up and leave, your little sister was six and your mother worked too much at the hospital—and your college essay was almost done. But Mave, a too powerful lead singer was persistent, full of guilt trips and gaslighting. Cady, c’mon! We’d be nothing without you! Don’t do this to us, we need you. With two pleading girls behind her, Trixie and Adina, what were you supposed to do.

You left home, with them.

You weren’t even sure if they really would’ve needed you to get by as a band, but your manger, Summer Lovewell, has said otherwise. You’re good at what you do, even if it’s not what you wanted to do.

It’s why Eddie notices you so quickly the night of that party. Everyone looked more than pleased to be there. Sex on walls and couches and unknown beds. Drugs on skin. Music in ears. It was his scene, his favorite fucking scene.

But staring at you on the balcony by yourself with a sparkling water down by your small kitten heels made his chest feel kind of funny.

Why were you alone?

Of course he knew who you were. You were younger than him and the media loves younger things. You, twenty two and new to fame. Cady fuckin’ Brocks! Beautiful and a little too soft by the media’s words and digs, they were awfully mean to you.

Bitten Lace had popped up like a firework and repeated sending colors to the sky. You guys were fuckin’ good. You were fuckin’ good.

He doesn’t remember what he said to you that night, too coked out. Sometimes, when he simply observes you—he wishes he had been sober that night. He wishes he remembered talking to you. He’s not even really sure how it escalated from there, but now, your like this all too big scarlet secret he’s trying his very hardest to keep away from flashing cameras and attention seeking tabloids.

He knows you, but he wants to know you better.

“Eds. Do you think I look silly in this?” Your voice is soft and your sitting on the hotel floor of Eddie’s room. He’s on tour, again, in Chicago—Bitten Lace happens to be here for press on a new world hit single.

He’s just gotten off of a show, shirtless, jeans a little too big in the waist, black socks, smudge makeup, and a bit of a smell.

He can’t find the wipes to get the glitter and black liner off his face. He’s still a mess. “Silly in what?” He asks with a mumble as he goes through another black book bag. Unlike his band mates, he doesn’t fuck with suitcases. He travels the world with three Jansport book bags that have kissed hell and back about six times. You tease him for them.

“In this..?” Like he’s supposed to know what you’re talking about, he doesn’t even know what you’re looking at—but he let’s you talk. He can’t find the damn wipes— “I don’t know, I didn’t like the shorts. They’re too tiny and the top was even smaller. Like I get it, we have an image, but the image only seems to look decent on Mave. I don’t have strong muscles in my stomach like that.” He hasn’t looked back at you but he gets what you’re talking about now.

He pauses with his bag and looks at you from over his shoulder. Your peering down at Blitz Magazine, Bitten Lace making the cover and a pretty thick section in the pages. The photoshoot for that had been agonizing. Mave’s judging looks to get your shit together and stop tweaking and Adina’s complaining was enough to have you crying in the shower after you’d gotten back to your small apartment. Trixie is much kinder and actually a friend. She’d been pretty silent throughout the whole thing, saying her thank you’s and giving her kind smiles when she needed to. You had tried to follow that method, but it hadn’t stuck.

You guys are big now, a year and a half in and Mave would kill someone if you guys started to slip in relevance. You’re tired and this isn’t what you signed up for in the slightest. But you don’t complain, you send your mother too much or your money, one might think, so she can work less and you call your little sister way too much. It’s really all you can do from here, where ever that is at the time. You don’t get a lot of free time to head back to Boston every now and then and see them. Eddie knows it bothers you. Unlike you, he hates going home and hasn’t been in four years. Hawkins does not need him. Plus, Wayne just likes to chat on the phone. Letters are cool too.

Eddie’s forgotten about the wipes now. His eyes on you as your fingers drag over the photos of the magazine. He hadn’t even been aware you were going to be in it, you hadn’t told him, of course you hadn’t. Brooks had, smacking the article into his chest after the show an hour ago—check out your chick, Munson. Goddamn. It had been moments before you arrived. He hadn’t even been able to look at it yet or give Brooks shit for his foxy words and tone.

He’s standing before you and looking down at the page, he spots you instantly. You are in tiny clothing. You’ve got white and tan cowboy boots on, small-small denim shorts that are tight in the waist and loose around your thighs. There’s a silver chain around your left thigh with a heart charm, it’s cute, Eddie thinks. Your shirt is indeed even tinier than the shorts, tight to your skin and flattering. It’s knitted and triangle shaped around your breast. It’s a nice tank top. You’ve got jewelry everywhere, much more than he’s ever seen you wear. Your hairs blown out and looks lighter—has your hair gotten lighter? He hasn’t seen you in almost two months, this shoot was almost a month ago.. His eyes drag to your hair now, pulled back in a very loose ponytail, you’ve got strands falling and framing your face. Your hair does look lighter. He wonders why you hadn’t brought it up? He kind of wants to kiss you.

“You look killer,” he says softly. He means it.

Your eyes flicker up to his, your chin now aimed up at him. You look so clean. Your lips are parted. “Seriously?”

Eddie smiles and sticks his hand out for you, you take it instantly as he yanks you up too aggressively. You slouch into his chest a little as he leans down to snatch up the magazine. He has a hand still on your arm and the other is holding up the pages. “I think the outfit is fuckin’ cool.” And he’s not just saying that too make you feel better, he really does means it. You look good and it’s all flattering, despite how you see yourself.

“Are you yanking my hair?” Eddie rolls his eyes at your weird phrases and drops the magazine on his made bed. “No. I am not yanking your hair. You look hot, killer.”

Your rolling your eyes now, shoving away from him as your cheeks go all red. He beams like a schoolboy at your sweet reaction.

You’re a slice of heaven.

You slouch into his bed, the sheets creasing under you. Your face is lined with his waist now. You lean forward and let your head meet his bare lower abdomen. It flexes for a second before a hand of his gently cups the crown of your head. “The wipes are by your first bag, by the way. You’ve missed them twice now.”

Eddie scoffs and laugh a little mean, he messes your hair. It is lighter. They’ve add more highlights to you. “You’re so mean.” He says as he pulls away from you to get the wipes, sticking out from under his first bag.

You smile and slide back onto his bed. “I’ll make it up to you and take off the glitter for you, rockstar.”

Eddie smiles, it’s faint and he’s glad you don’t see it. Not very metal of him. “Deal.”

[silkylious]

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.” (Lucifer x Reader)

fandom: obey me! shall we date?

pairing: lucifer x gn reader

warnings: angst, fluff (mildly lol), suggestive (nothing explicit though!), bittersweet, ambiguous ending (??), unedited 

wc: 2.1k

“Lucifer?” you called out to him on a whim, eyes trailing the seconds ticking away on his grandfather-clock.

“Yes?” he didn’t spare you a glance as he worked methodically through his second hill of paperwork; a heaping stack of duties assigned to him by Diavolo, endless bills–a consequence of Mammon’s latest spending spree, you ought to talk to him about those soon–and the sort piled neatly on his pristine desk, slowly but surely decreasing in size as Lucifer burned through the tedious task with unwavering efficiency. You felt exhausted just watching him work. Lucifer? He hadn’t so much as blinked more than three times in the past five minutes (yes, you counted). Obsidian sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, hair perfectly framing his face with one strand slightly out of place–hot–and a gentle crease between his brows (the only observable hint alluding to the mounting stress on his shoulders). He looked positively delectable, nothing like someone who’s been working diligently for hours without any breaks. But that just served as a testament to the fundamental difference between the two of you, you supposed.

“I’m in love with you,”

That made his meticulous fingers pause in their tracks.

“Pardon?”

As it turned out, his ears hadn’t, in fact, deceived him. You repeated the confession as if it weighed nothing on your tongue. You were strangely calm given the words you’d just blurted out; he almost didn’t recognize you. An unfamiliar shade of desperation painted all over your face, and yet your voice bared to him a serene conviction, one he’d never heard from you before. Lucifer’s heartbeat stumbled in your wake.

Basking in your courageous display just a second longer, he sighed. Too bad he’d have to mutilate such a pretty sight so soon.

That didn’t go exactly as he’d planned. The harsh rejection barely deterred you, leaving only a petulant pout on your lips and a promise that you’d come talk to him later.

Lucifer was anything but stupid. He knew that he let things stray too far between you, knew it was his fault for not pulling away from your kisses and instead indulging you (and himself) to the fullest. His fault for ignoring the guilt that settled deep in his gut like hunks of steel when you looked at him like he’d never experienced before. Lucifer had lived for many millennia, had relished the warmth of countless passionate lovers and faceless hookups, none of which had ever set him alight from the inside out like your adoring gaze had. It terrified him how after all these years, watching humans thrive and collapse over and over again, he thought he’d seen everything there is to see, all that humans had to offer. And then you come along, reinventing what love meant right before his eyes, with a simple look no less.

He never intended for you to fall in love with him, and he never intended to reciprocate. Had he been mortal, maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated. But life dealt a cruel hand, and he wasn’t. A relationship like yours was doomed to crumble in heartache from the start, it was best to stop it before things went too far. That was the plan anyway.

You didn’t share the same sentiment.

With one last exasperated sigh, Lucifer focused his attention back on his duties. He didn’t know how long he could hold up against your persistence, and honestly he preferred not to dwell on it. Whatever outcome lied for the both of you in the near future, itching one step closer with each tick on the clock, he’d face it head on when it was time.

Meanwhile, you laid wide awake, in your bed, rethinking every decision that led you here. You didn’t regret your confession, nor were you keen on giving up, but Lucifer’s ruthless rejection, his vehement claim that a relationship between a human and a demon is destined to end in tragedy festered a bud of doubt in you. You noted pettily that he hadn’t outright denied any feelings for you. How could he? Lucifer was many, ugly things but a liar’s not one of them; you wouldn’t believe him even if he did lie, not with how delicately he holds your hand in his gloved one, not with how heartbreakingly beautiful he was when he lets you in at his lowest, stripped completely of his pride.

You knew though, that as much as Lucifer was a creature of the past, he was a creature of regrets.

Somehow, you’d managed to reach the heart of the Avatar of Pride himself, bestowing a porcelain touch on it and subsequently rocking the monotony of his endless life. Despite the acknowledgment of both your feelings, you weren’t naïve enough to dismiss how his heart drums thousands of years apart from yours and would continue to do so long after yours gave its last valiant pump.

He was a creature of the past you realized; humans intently watch minutes, hours, years approach because there’s only so much of them live out, there’s only so much to do in a lifetime. Naturally it would be counterintuitive to waste scarce time on the past. The immortal have no such concern. When time is limitless, and life is all but a blur of recycled events, its only instinctive to lose interest in what’s to come. And you guessed, maybe there was a strange comfort in the predictability of eternity, maybe that’s why Lucifer was so offput by the notion of something serious yet temporary, especially romance.

You decided. You wouldn’t let him look back and ponder what ifs in that stubborn head of his, not while you were still breathing. With regained determination, you glanced one last time at your countertop alarm and entered a dreamless slumber.

Not even two days later, three consecutive raps on his door made Lucifer rub at his temples for the nth time and begrudgingly called for you to enter. Piled on his desk were several stacks of papers (as was the usual), though, that night he was in a particularly sour mood. Ever since your confession, he’d been feeling uneasy, Diavolo hurling more work at him last minute was only pushing him to his wit’s end.

“Lucifer,” he hummed in response, not bothering to conceal his growing agitation. “we need to talk,”

Ah, there it was. He was wondering when you’d confront him again.

“I believe I made myself quite clear last time,” he sighed, dropping his pen and finally meeting your eyes. “If this is about your feelings again then I’m sorry but I can’t–”

“But why? Can you really say that what we have isn’t special at all?” your lower lip quivered just a bit and Lucifer had to fight the immediate reflex of holding you close and hushing your worries. His impassiveness quickly arose frustration out of you. “God Damnit, Lucifer! All I want is to be with you while I still can! To die with no regrets, knowing you’ll be there with me, but it’s very fucking hard to do that when you’re too scared of the future to do something about–about us!”

It was a low blow to go after his pride, you knew that, but he wasn’t giving you much to work with.. Rubbing salt in a ghastly wound had certainly done the trick, the dimmed crimson that pooled just below his pupil began to shine scarlet. You would have found it gorgeous had it not been imbued with near murderous intent. Lucifer’s poker face was rapidly breaking, a horrid mix of anger and melancholy sat heavy in his throat. He was looking straight at you, but his eyes were somewhere else, some time else. He was staring hundreds of years behind you at an unhealed, poorly bandaged cut. An everlasting guilt he carried with him everywhere.

“What would you know about regret?” he breathed out the words like they’re bullets, whatever restraint he’d managed to scarp together deteriorating. He stepped closer, each stride bigger than the last as he closed the distance between you, a perfect diamond manifesting on his forehead and you could see the beginnings of black feathers sprouting from his back. “Do you have the slightest clue what a blessing mortality is? Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to live with your regrets and not be able to die with them?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you stood your ground. “But, do you really want to live with one more regret to bear?”

He kissed you. He kissed you like he hated you, animosity and anger and pain and, most prominently, pining spilling from his lips. Lucifer parted from you just as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss, taking the time to let his irritation bleed out of him, until he was left grappling with (frankly terrifying) longing and adoration. Just this once, he’d take a leap of faith, he’d break his own rigorous code and take the risk of undying heartache in the future to be with you in the now.

One kiss turned into many, and soon you found yourselves stumbling your way from his office to his bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of you, the thought that some day he would be deprived of you broke him and made him yearn to cherish you just as much. Precious things aren’t meant for longevity, he learned. All the more reason to treasure them when given the chance. You were pushed onto his bed and not once did his hands and mouth and breath leave your skin; he couldn’t bear sever that connection.

Before long, your hands were pined to the mattress, fingers tightly laced with his as if he was petrified the moment will break and a thousand years would pass you by the instant he let go.

“I love you. Truly and deeply.”

Neither of you heard the clock strike midnight.

Lucifer was well-acquainted with sleepless nights. He was no stranger to the prick at the corner of his eye, excruciatingly familiar with midnight’s cold, lonely touch. But this one was different. Where usually lied a cool emptiness in his sheets, your warm, inviting body was just in reach. Where the corners of his mind were usually plagued by past mistakes and sorrowful repentance, you were all he could think about. He reflected on your words now that the high of emotions had worn off. He still disagreed with you on many things and, if he was being true to himself, it would take more than one night to abandon his reluctance, much more. But he was willing to put in his fair share of effort. He was willing to do many things for you, he mused. You were right about one thing though, regardless of whether or not he acted on his feelings, your parting would hurt all the same. Part of him was still resentful that he let himself fall so deeply in love with you, and a part of him knew it couldn’t be helped. You’d carved a home for yourself out of his heart, invited yourself in and declared pompously you’d be there to stay, and he’d be damned to hell all over again if he said he didn’t like that.

Pulling you closer to leech off your warmth, for the first time in forever, he dreamt of the future, a future with you.

Snapping out his reverie, Lucifer refocused his vision on the framed picture before him. It’s been a couple dozen years, the pain dulled into a hollow longing, and yet not a single regret weighed on his back. He was astonished, how you, who had lived but a fraction of his own lifetime, had such impeccable foresight. He lays in bed every night and morning thanking you for not giving up, knowing that if you had, he’d be spending the rest of his infinite days in self-loathing regret.

All Lucifer could ask for now is a little guidance. What was he to do now? Was he even capable of falling in love again after you? Would he allow it? All questions that began frequenting his head since you’re no longer there to occupy it. He only knew is that he’d love you, and love you, and love you until this world fell apart. He toyed with the idea of reincarnation. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; he saw you in everything he did. Strange how you’d taught him more about appreciating every day’s mundanities than he had in the many eons he’s been alive. Lucifer wonders about the possibility of you donning the same white wings he once had back in the Celestial Realm. If you ever did, he wonders about the complications that would arise from that, he wonders if you’d even remember him. All Lucifer was left with was a simple truth. If you ever came back, whichever form you may take, he’d welcome you back into the adobe of his heart without a second thought.

He ran his thumb over your smile, a bittersweet acceptance in his own.

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.”

Obey me! taglist: @katsucookie @strwbry-m1lk​ (you wanted to be tagged in this one lol) join my taglist here! <3

[scoopsahoy]

Would you be willing to do something with Isaac Lahey where like the reader is being tracked by Gerard and his crew without Chris and the reader wakes up and Isaac's sitting in her room and it scares her and she invites him into the bed and they talk? Fluff or smut is up to you.

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ some mentions of violence

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You opened your eyes to the moonlight illuminating your room, allowing you to see your furniture. You looked to your left to the chair in the corner that your bed was against, jumping when you saw a figure sitting in it, snoring softly. You recognized him as Isaac, and you groaned.

You grabbed the extra pillow and threw it at him, and he woke from his slumber with a flinch and a mumble.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, even though you were home alone and there was no one to wake up.

“Guarding you.”

“Well, you were sleeping.”

He rubbed his eyes to wake up. “Ugh, yeah, sorry.”

You scooted backward, clearing up enough room on your full-size bed. “Come lay down,” you said, seeing a look of hesitation on his face. “Come on, it’s more comfortable than that chair.”

He stood up and took a few steps toward the bed, laying the pillow back in its place and kicking his shoes off. He awkwardly got comfortable next to you, immediately noticing how close you two were. Your knees were touching his, which you could see made him red in the face.

“You could’ve told me you were gonna be here,” you said to break the tension. “You scared me when I woke up.”

“I just figured you would’ve said you didn’t need protection like you always do.”

“I might’ve surprised you,” you defended. “Plus, when I’m, ya know, being hunted down by Allison’s grandfather, sitting in my room without me knowing probably isn’t the best idea.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be intrusive-”

“You’re not.” Your response made him smirk. “Just warn me next time.”

He nodded once. “Will do.”

It was silent for a few seconds. Changing the subject, you asked, “Do you ever wish you could go back?”

“Go back?”

“Yeah. To before you got bit? When you were human?”

“Oh. Uh... No, not really.”

“How come?”

“Because before all this, I was still living with my dad. I’d still be getting locked in a freezer as punishment and getting beat for small things.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good reason.”

“What about you?”

“I’m still human,” you chuckled.

“No.” He returned the laugh. “I mean before you knew about all this. Before you had to be guarded because your life is in danger.”

You thought for a second. You hadn’t known about all of this very long, only a couple of months. But Deucalion and his alphas chose you of all people to take hostage and torture because you were friends with Scott.

Isaac was the one who found you and rushed you to the hospital, taking some of your pain on the drive and revealing that he was a werewolf. Since then, you two had become good friends, and he was keen on protecting you.

But you’d also become much closer to Scott, Allison, and Lydia, and you’d also become best friends with Stiles and Kira. It surprised you that Derek was so willing to be your friend, as you’d always heard he was a recluse.

“No,” you answered. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t have met you. And everyone else.”

“You also wouldn’t be covered in scars.”

“True. But these are my battle scars,” you said, making him laugh. “I’m a survivor, I should flaunt it. Plus, I wouldn’t really know how to defend myself if I never knew.”

“That’s also true.”

There was a moment of silence. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Anything.”

“Do you ever miss him? Your dad?”

He took in a deep breath and you could tell it wasn’t something he was eager to talk about.

“Sometimes. I mean, we had some good memories together. Not many, but some. Plus, there’s the whole orphan thing.”

You nodded. “I get that.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“I see you and Stiles together a lot and... Are you guys...”

“What?”

“Together?”

You raised your eyebrows. “What? No. I think he and Malia are a thing. I don’t have feelings for him like that.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Just wondering.”

You squinted, a smirk spreading across your face. You scooted your upper body slightly closer to him, surprising him a bit.

“Why were you wondering?”

He reeled his head back slightly. His eyes landed on your lips for a couple of seconds. “I just was.”

You and Isaac had chemistry. You didn’t even realize it until you were crammed in a janitor’s closet with him after school one day, trying to hide from Deucalion. Your face was only a couple of inches from his, and the look in his eyes was pure terror.

“Isaac,” you whispered. “I’m not even a werewolf and I can hear your heart pounding.”

“Sorry, just... I thought you were gonna die out there.”

“Me? What about you?”

He shrugged. “I’d rather it be me that gets hurt than you.”

That night, seeing him step up to protect you and his friends, was the night you fell for him. He’d taken a bad beating from Ethan and Aiden, and you took him back to your house to treat his wounds.

You sat him down on the toilet and crouched in front of him. “Why aren’t you healing?” you asked frantically as you wiped dried blood from his face.

“They’re from alphas. It’ll take longer to heal.” As you began stitches on his stomach, he asked with a wince, “How do you know how to do this?”

“I got hurt a lot as a kid, and one day my dad figured band-aids weren’t enough. He taught me basic first aid and stitches and stuff.”

Sitting on the edge of your bathtub across from him, you stared down at your hands that were covered in blood. A tear dripped onto your thumb and you sniffled, getting his attention.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, getting down onto his knees and crawling over to you. He looked down at your hands, then back at your face. He reached up and wiped your cheeks, drying them off as best as he could. “It’s alright.”

“You could’ve died tonight. I watched them beat you half to death-”

“Y/N, stop. It’s okay. I’m alive.”

“You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Like I said, I’d rather get hurt than you get hurt. Plus I’ll heal. Really, I’m fine. I can already feel it healing.”

You wiped your nose with the back of your wrist. He cringed and you looked at him. “What?”

“Stand up,” he said as he also got to his feet. You looked in the mirror and saw you had blood smeared across your cheek and upper lip. It only made you cry more, and he led you to the sink. He washed your hands off for you before taking a washcloth to your face, wiping all the blood off.

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Neither of you stopped looking at each other for a moment. You were the one who looked away first when you saw he had began to slowly get closer to you.

“I can drive you home,” you offered. And that’s exactly what you did. Neither of you had been alone together since that night two weeks ago, which brings you back to laying in your bed with him, your face inches from his.

“Mm.” You scooted back to your original place. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

“Can I... do something?” he asked out of the blue, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Like what?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” He leaned down and connected your lips gently, almost like he was afraid of hurting you. One hand landed on the bed by your side, keeping you next to him, and the other held his weight up.

You pulled his face into yours, deepening the kiss and immediately causing him to do the same.

The passion with which he kissed you was like no one had ever kissed you before. You could tell he’d wanted to do that for God knows how long.

In a split second, he was on top of you, his thighs settling between yours. You wrapped your legs around his, using your feet to pull his body in close to you.

His kisses traveled to your jaw, making you let out a deep breath. Your hands reached up to tangle in the back of his short hair before he sat up on his knees to pull his shirt off.

Your hands dragged over his chest and down to his lower back, feeling a few moles scattered here and there.

Just then, the two of you heard a loud bang downstairs. He broke the kiss and you looked toward your door.

“We need to leave,” he said, immediately jumping off of you and slipping his shirt back on. He grabbed your hand once the two of you had your shoes on and dragged you over to the window, jumping out first and then pulling you out behind him.

You looked down to the ground, realizing how far it was from your feet. It made your heart pound and your head spin.

He leaped off the roof and landed on the grass below, holding his arms out to catch you when you jumped. You hesitated but when you heard your door open and hit the wall, you took a deep breath and hopped into the air, landing in his arms.

He set you down onto your feet and grabbed your hand once again, running with you to his car.

When you were about two miles from your house, he pulled into the Beacon Hills Preserve and parked at the entrance, allowing the two of you to take a deep breath.

Neither of you looked at each other for a moment.

“Isaac-” You were cut off by the feeling of lips hitting yours, and you kissed him back. When the kiss ended, he looked at you.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. If anything happened to you-”

“I’m okay, Isaac. Really. I’m just glad you were there.”

He smiled at you. “Well, I have no idea where we’re gonna go now.”

“We could just sit here,” you suggested. “Hopefully they didn’t follow us.”

“I doubt they did.”

You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you did. You hadn’t even been there an hour before you closed your eyes, and you had no idea that he was staring at you, watching you snore.

[rick-rayson]

Okay after that one Stephanie Brown/Y/n post I made I've been thinking. . .

While Damian is Batman's Robin, Y/n could be Batgirl's Robin! Now I know some people might think "ugh not Batgirl she isn't as cool of a partner as Batman blah blah blah."

And they'd be right.

BECAUSE BATGIRL WOULD BE BETTER.

LITERALLY ANY VERSION OF BATGIRL COULD/WOULD BE AN AMAZING PARTNER AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL.

If Robin!Y/N worked with Barbara's Batgirl they'd be such a good team. Babs isn't the most easygoing light-hearted person who's worn the cowl but she is definitely the most structured and fixed of them.

Babs has been with the Batfamily since its early days, she's seen Robins come and go and die and come back. So when you come around Babs is keen on keeping you alive god damn it.

She has a schedule made. Patrol for a few hours, constant reports are mandatory at the end. Going out without her is not happening so don't even try.

Okay... She lets you patrol alone sometimes. Sometimes. But do know that she'll always watch over you as much as she can and reports are still expected.

"Patrol time, Y/n." Barb hands you your mask before sitting down on her desk chair. You notice she's getting comfortable, snacking on some food.

"Uhm, Barb, aren't you coming?"

"I thought I'd let you patrol solo tonight. Let you spread your wings without the fear of my scrutiny." Barbara finishes her snack as she gazes upon her computer screen.

"You really trust me?" You ask.

"Of course I do." Babs turns to you with a proud smile, "You're my partner after all."

Just know that she always has a proud smile on her face and a rush of excitement when you accomplish something she's been teaching you.

You're the first to hear her plans because at the end of the day you're her Robin, sure you may be a sidekick at first but Babs wants to help you eventually become her partner. She wants your future to be secure.

The key skill you'd learn from Barbara is Calculation. She's set you up to the point in where you could easily lead your own team of Teen Titans one day.

But with whatever happens, and whatever bigger role you take in the future, Barbara will always see you as her Young Wonder.

Cassandra as Batgirl might be difficult to deal with communication wise, but she is so understanding and patient. However, you may notice early on that she acts without even signaling you.

Unlike Barbara who'd come to see you as a student to an equal, Cass would drill it in at the beginning that you're a sidekick.

This isn't because she doubts your ability, but because she doubts hers.

Babs would probably notice that Cass takes you out of battles and brushes you off to the sidelines so she can go at it alone and that's kinda when big sis Babs talks to the both of you about that.

Babs has a private talk about it with Cassie and when she comes back Cassie gives you a rather awkward shoulder pat before walking off.

A while later though Cassie comes back and gives you papers, some showing pictures of hand signals and what they're for. You never knew but at that moment a promise was made.

You would become Cassandra's Robin, and she'd become your Batgirl.

Your time with Cassandra is different from your time with Barbara in the fact that- whilst Barbara was the one who taught and you were the one that would learn, you come to find that with Cassie it's a learning experience for the both of you.

If someone were to ask you what's the most important thing you learned from Cassandra it would be communication.

Not just verbal communication either. You two would come to work so fluidly that it'd even impress Batman. No words need to be said, not even the slightest physical signal, but the both of you know exactly what the other is trying to communicate and it terrifies your friends and your foes.

Working with Stephanie as Batgirl is- to say the least, the most chaotic and feral partnership you've ever been in and you wouldn't have it any other way.

With Babs you'd learned to be logical and independent, with Cass you'd learned how to observe and report in ways not known to the average person so what could you learn from Stephanie?

"Fun?" You tilt your head, confused as ever.

"Yup! C'mon Lil Wing!" Stephanie smiles at you.

Stephanie was the fourth Robin, so when she learned that you'd become Robin she was ecstatic, but a little disappointed for the fact that you weren't experiencing what she considers one of the most important parts of being Robin.

Exploring your youth. You were already skilled in many things prior to becoming Steph's partner (thanks to Cassie and Babs) but Stephanie was still motivated to teach you something as well.

She knows that balancing your superhero life with your civillian life can be stressful and often times suffocating, so she does her best to make sure that you're having fun.

It's come to a point in where criminals and civillians alike will hear your laughter ring throughout the city of Gotham. This terrifies your enemies and brings relief to both the innocent and Batgirl.

Stephanie became Robin during a troubling time in her childhood, but what brought her the most joy was wearing that yellow cape and swinging through the night. So she wants you to find enjoyment with that you have.

The most important thing you learn with Stephanie, in her words: "There is always room for hope. in our line of work."

Her definition of Robin is youthful freedom. She will not force this meaning on to you but you notice right away that she still lives by it to this day.

Now, if you were to ask me: "What would Y/n learn from being the Robin to Batgirl?"

This might not be the right answer, might not even be the wrong answer but to me it is enough.

The most important thing Y/n would learn from the Batgirl's is to live.

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 16: Questions

A Loki fanfiction!

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Full Chapter List

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

Hungry. Blood. Flesh.

Hungry. Blood. Flesh.

The mantra circles in your mind as you prowl the forest, searching for your next meal. It has been days since you found something good. The creatures of the forest were now keen to your presence, so they found better spots to hide.

You stalk the forest floor, smelling the scent of flesh in the air. Nothing but carcass and dead meat until you catch the scent of a sweeter meat. You run in the direction and give way to the chase. The creature runs from you and you snarl, laughing. There are few things in this forest that can outrun you.

You pounce and look into the eyes of a doe. It lets out a gargled yelp as you snap your jaws around its throat.

Hungry. Blood. Flesh.

You awoke with a start and felt bile in the back of your throat. You tasted blood in your mouth and nearly vomited from the thought of eating flesh. Inspecting with your finger, you realized you had bitten your cheek in your sleep. You took a minute to settle back into reality while the nightmare faded away, though the stench of blood was hot in your mouth.

The bed was empty save for you, and you looked around. Your school clothes were neatly folded and ready for you at the end of the bed.

“Hello?” you said once you got clothed and felt a little more like yourself again. Fatigue still coated every one of your steps, but you stood by his desk and glanced around the room. He popped out from the closet and gave you a tight smile. He was holding a briefcase.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said. “I left breakfast on the nightstand there,” he said, gesturing to a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon.

“Where are you going?” you said, sliding over beside the nightstand and taking a bite of bacon.

His jaw tightened. “I must tend to some business, I shall return in a week.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What business?”

“I did not realize that I was to run every meeting in my schedule through you, Miss Eves,” he said. He looked irritated, though it seemed like a faraway sort of feeling.

Your heart hitched at his words. “I just want to know why you’re leaving when Hogwarts was attacked again, it will look suspicious.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Ah, so you think I was behind this, too. You didn’t care to mention that last night,” he said, looking away.

Anger flared up within you. Anger and embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I’m just saying that it will not help your case if you cut and run after another attack.”

He glared at you. “I do not ‘cut and run’, Miss Eves. Nor do I care what the rest of the school thinks. You may do what you wish, as will I.”

You dropped the half eaten bacon on the plate and got up. “Why can’t you just talk about things like a normal person? Did it ever occur to you that sometimes you have to earn trust than just expect it blindly?”

He was wearing the icy shield that he usually surrounded himself in. It was impenetrable, and you knew you would not get anywhere with him now.

“If you do not trust me, Miss Eves, then you are free to leave. And be sure to stay out of my way,” he said coldly.

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes but refused to show him your weakness. Anger boiled your blood, along with a maddening frustration. You stormed to the door and just before slamming it shut, said, “this is why you’re always alone.”

***

After about an hour of being a tearful mess in your room, you decided it was enough. He said things that hurt you and so you retaliated and were ashamed of what a low blow you had given him. You had not bothered to see him afterwards, in order to apologize, and by now you assumed he was off conducting his ‘business’. You sighed and went to wash your face.

This was no time to be crying or taking things personally. You knew he acted angry whenever he was hiding something or wanted to throw you off. He was a man that smiled and joked around but kept everyone more than an arm’s length away. He was not going to shake you that easily, if that’s what he thought would happen. You promised yourself that you would not let him die, and you would sooner die yourself than go back on your word.

You thought about the first vision you had of him. It seemed like a dream of a dream now. It had been weeks since you had any sort of vision. Ever since your encounter with Fenris, you were haunted. Infected. Looking in the mirror, you reached up a hand and caressed the skin on your face, observing the sallow quality it had taken on, getting used to the black half moons under your eyes.

You tied up your hair in a ponytail that was all business and went to the Great Hall for lunch. Valkyrie was there, and she jumped up and embraced you as soon as your eyes met.

“Freya!” she said, giving you a bear hug. You had never heard such intense concern in her voice before. “I knew you’d make it, but for a moment I thought...”

You pulled away and looked at her face; it was creased with anxiety. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed and pulled you into a corner, away from eager ears. “It’s Thor - Professor Odinson. He’s still in the infirmary. That...thing that attacked you was a serperus. And there were more of them in the gardens. Odinson went to fight them off and was lashed by three of them before he went down.” Valkyrie ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. “I should have been there with him...but those bloody leech things that popped out of the balloons.... We lost each other in the ball from all the chaos.” She sighed. “Volstagg says he’s a fighter, that he’ll make it. But there was so much venom Freya...his legs turned purple.”

You concealed a cringe that went through your body. Recalling the pain of one serperus was awful enough, but three? You would have surely died. “Professor Odinson is one of the strongest wizards I know. He’s going to recover.” You squeezed her hands.

She nodded, the sparkle of determination returning to her eyes. “Who’s doing this? First Rattowl, then the Quidditch game gets fucked up, then you find Pom’s brother mutilated in the forest, then that bloody message about some heir, and now they set off these disgusting creatures at the ball? What the fuck is going on?” Her jaw clenched in rage. “The teachers are all buffoons; a fat lot of help they’ve been!”

“That’s why we need to find who’s doing this,” you said. “ And I think I know where to start.”

With that, the both of you headed to Professor Bjorn’s hut just outside the castle. Hogwarts was now under strong guard and you had to sneak back and grab the invisibility cloak before going outside. Professor Laufeyson was the only one who could tell where you were when you were cloaked since he had the marauder’s map, though you doubted he would keep watch of anything during his trip; a fact which both relieved and irritated you.

“Why are we going to Bjorn’s? You think he’s behind this?” Valkyrie said, confused.

You scoffed. “No! But he’s the expert on magical creatures. How could someone transport that many blood slugs and serperus’ into the castle undetected?”

As you walked, Valkyrie caught you up on everything you had missed in the last couple days since the ball disaster. During the ball, at midnight, the students and teachers knew there would be some sort of prank as per annual custom, but when the first of the balloons burst, and a young second-year student screamed his lungs out and thumped to the floor, chaos ensued. Apparently, Mo had to pry a slug off of Nila’s neck and she was bleeding profusely. Pom and her date were helping others as well until a slug took her date down by the ankle and he had two feasting on him before Valkyrie came over and helped Pom pry them off.

“Goddamn, leeches bite hard. Tearing them off was a nightmare,” Valkyrie said.

You shuddered and almost preferred the fatal venom to having slimy leeches attached to you.

The infirmary was overloaded once again, and much worse this time. Students and teachers were called to volunteer and assist the infirmary staff since there were so many injured. The Ministry Blood Bank had to bring in a special order for all the students and staff suffering from major blood loss.

“The Ministry is pissed off,” she said. You thought about Odin and the image of him in Professor Laufeyson’s memories. He always looked angry, though you would imagine that his entire administration was now going to be up in arms.

The hut was cloaked in fog, with only the thin lamplight from the windows guiding you towards it. The edge of the Forbidden Forest was dangerously close to his home, and you wondered how he was comfortable with it. You and Valkyrie walked down the hill and approached the house, concealed underneath the cloak. There was a crash and bang from inside that made you both jump.

You took off the cloak and rapped on the door. The wood was cold and cracked; it stung your knuckles.

“No guests till tomorrow!” shouted Bjorn’s raspy voice. You heard another sound from inside, a mewling sort of sound that was almost like a mixture of a bird and a cat.

“Come on, Professor Bjorn, what’s goin’ on in there?” Valkyrie said, pounding her first on the door so hard that it shook.

The door swung open and slammed against the inside wall. Professor Bjorn stood there, towering over the both of you. He smelled funny, like a fish market in the summer, and his beard was singed at the tips, as if he leaned too close to a fire. “No students on the grounds! Get back to the school before I dock ya,” he said with a growl, and slammed the door. Valkyrie put her foot out just in time and shoved the door open, entering the hut.

You were always impressed with her fearlessness and lack of hesitation. You had expected Professor Bjorn to fight back, but in fact, he backed up into a corner and tried to conceal something behind him. Something that was moving.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he said, his tone dropping.

Valkyrie pulled out her wand and pointed it at him, “you bastard!”

“Wait, Valkyrie!” you said as you moved closer to see what he was hiding. Five tiny heads tilted towards you with forked tongues slipping out of scaly mouths. It was a serperus, though it was about half the size of the one you had remembered seeing before you passed out. You pulled out your want and pointed it at Professor Bjorn. How could he?

“You did this?” you said, disbelief in your words.

Professor Bjorn was terribly sweaty and distressed. He frowned as if he might cry and shook his head. “No! Please understand, they were killin’ all of them. I found this one hiding in the corner, so confused and lost. Serperus’ don’t attack people, ‘tis not in their nature!”

Valkyrie took a step forward and clenched her jaw. “What - so we’re supposed to believe you were just rescuing the monster that almost killed us? Freya nearly died! Professor Odinson is lying unconscious ‘cause of this thing! How can you sit here, protecting it?”

“It’s just an animal! It’s scared and I don’t know what dark enchantments were used to control these things, but they’re not harmful,” he paused when both you and Valkyrie scoffed at him, implying they were not dangerous. “I’m not saying they can’t be harmful, but they eat rabbits, mice and fish! Everythin’ else is a defense mechanism. These beasts are like cats.”

You and Valkyrie looked at each other. “Cats?” you said incredulously.

The small serperus slithered out of the corner, its scales glimmered with a bluish sheen from the lamplight. The barbs on its tail were red coloured, but they were not fanned out like the one in your memory, but tucked in like a feline’s claws. One head moved towards you while the others looked at Valkyrie. The creature slithered over to you, and when you took a step back, its tail twitched and Valkyrie was about to shoot a spell at it. You raised your hand and silently stopped her. The creature slithered across the floorboards and moved through your legs, like some sort of monstrous cat.

“It likes you,” Bjorn said with a smile.

You sighed, your palpitations decreasing now that you knew you would not be stung. Glancing at Valkyrie with a pleading look, she reluctantly lowered her wand. Since the entire room released tension, Professor Bjorn pulled out two chairs and put on a kettle of tea.

Once you were all situated around the table with a cup of tea, you spoke. “Professor, how could someone control these creatures? And the blood slugs, how was someone able to get them into the school?”

Valkyrie wrinkled her nose at the smell of raw fish that sat in the bucket beside Professor Bjorn. He reached inside with an ungloved hand and pulled out fish guts, feeding it to the serperus, who happily slopped up its food with each of its five mouths. He then stroked his beard with the fish stained hand. “That’s the question, ain’t it? The only curse that can control a beast to that extent is one of the forbidden curses.”

“The imperius curse,” Valkyrie said.

Bjorn nodded. “That’s the one. As for the blood slugs,” he said, scratching at his head. “I have no clue how those would have been brought into Hogwarts without us knowin’. We got charms here, you know, all sorts of protection spells.”

“How does someone even get blood slugs? I can’t imagine this person spent a week hunting and collecting hundreds of them in the forest,” you said.

Bjorn shook his head. “Nah, Freya, blood slugs live in the swamp, not the forest. But you got a point. There are...certain folks who are in the market of selling strange and exotic creatures.”

You straightened in your chair. “Can you find out who it was?”

The serperus mewled, and Bjorn took another handful of fish huts and held out his hand for it to eat. “I-I don’t know anybody like that. I’m completely above board, kids,” he said, looking down at the fish bucket.

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Oh please, save us the lies. You know someone in the market, and you’re going to find out who was exporting blood slugs and to whom.” She glanced at the serperus. “Or else we’ll have to tell the teachers about your...pet.”

You raised your brows at Valkyrie, impressed. Exploitation was not something you enjoyed, but this was important.

Bjorn balked. “Don’t tell them, please! They’re goin’ to kill ‘im!”

You folded your hands on the table. “Then help us, please, sir. People are getting hurt,” you said earnestly. He looked at you and sighed.

“Alright, I’ll call my old buddies and see wha’ I can get.”

Once you returned to the castle, you snuck Valkyrie into your room and stuffed the cloak under your bed. She jumped onto the bed of your estranged roommate and stared at the ceiling. “I smell like fish guts,” she said.

Perhaps it was the fatigue or the despair. Regardless, you both immediately burst out laughing to the point of tears. You slid down the bed and onto the floor, holding onto your stomach and trying to contain yourself. It was partial hysteria, but once you settled down you appreciated the moment of levity.

“I’m going to use your shower,” she said, staggering up and wiping tears off her face.

“Want to stay the night? I’ll grab some food from the kitchen,” you said.

Valkyrie smiled at you and nodded. It had been a while since you two had time to catch up. You also didn’t want to be alone. There was too much happening and in all truth, it frightened you. So you headed out of the common room and ventured out to find some grub.

The halls were strangely vacant as you headed towards the kitchen. You saw Skurge mopping up the stairs from across the hall and recalled that time in the library when you first saw Professor Laufeyson. He was having sex with Professor Sif, trying to get information out of her. You thought that you would be jealous, but in fact the memory reignited your desire for him. What if it had been you in Sif’s place? You shivered at the thought of his length inside you. Your imagination transformed your memory and now it was you splayed on the table, with him pounding into you. You bit your lip and shook your head. A sigh escaped your lips as you crossed your arms and tried not to think about him.

“Freya!” a small voice called from behind. It was Pom. She stuck her head out from a set of doors.

You had not realized that you passed the library and walked in to see Pom. “How are you?” you said.

She widened her eyes and blinked several times. “I don’t know, Freya. I was one of the lucky ones. But I need to show you something!” She pulled you by the hand to the area she was working in. Piles of books sat atop the tables labeled as “The Era of the Dark One”.

Pom pulled out one labelled Volume IX and opened it. “Okay, so remember when we were freaking out about that message on the wall? Everybody wondered who was the heir and of what? And before the ball, I started reading about the magical war and history about the Dark One. There is so much to read through, it was going to take me nearly a week! Then the ball happened…” she collected herself, then continued, “so I came back here since I had nothing better to do. And I found something.”

You leaned closer to her. “Found what?”

She smiled, proud of herself. “The Dark One,” she said, lowering her voice. “He had a child.”

Your stomach sank, wondering if she would unveil that Professor Laufeyson was the mastermind. “Everybody knows that Professor Laufeyson was the Dark One’s son, but it can’t be him…”

Pom shook her head. “No! He had another child…”

You felt a headache settling in, right between your eyes. “What do you mean? The one that died with him in battle?”

She nodded. “Yes! And no! There’s almost no information about his second child, as if it’s been wiped from all records. But...I think I may find something in one of these books!”

“How’s a dead wizard going to help us?”

Pom’s face fell a little. She scrunched her nose. “I know there’s something more here. I have a hunch. I’ll let you know when I find something!”

You nodded and left her to keep scouring through the old texts. The thought crossed your mind to write in the magical notebook you had found and ask Leah if she knew anything. Though you could no longer recall where you kept the book. Unless it had switched away from you, which would be unfortunate.

The headache split your head in two as you flinched from the pain. He would have something useful, a draught or pill that would make the pain go away. Your heart yearned for him, not just for the use of his potions skills. It was going to be a long week until he returned and you prayed that nothing else got destroyed along the way.

[vagrantblvrd]

Really though.

Hero of the Rebellion and all-around golden boy Luke Skywalker with a price on his head everyone’s always reminding him about like he doesn’t know.

And also, it’s not as bad as everyone seems to think it is because he’s just a farm boy from Tatooine, not a sort of almost former smuggler - “I’m getting better about it! Ask Chewie, he’ll tell you!” Or a princess/senator “Politics are just like that, Luke,” or other assorted people he could name.

“Well maybe if we didn’t have to rescue you from certain death every other week, we wouldn’t continue to have these conversations, Luke.”

And then, like.

This random Mandalorian who picks up a bounty on some planet or other where Luke was seen committing crimes...because reasons.

(Tied to his own death-defying shenanigans or swooping in to help Han or Leia or whoever with their death-defying shenanigans, whatever.)

The local equivalent of some hooligan blowing into town and partaking in hooliganery or what have you.

Small-time stuff, but the bounty’s still out on him or whatever years later, rright? Forgotten in the face of the whole...Death Stars nonsense and also death of the emperor and subsequent fall of the empire, and look, they just had bigger problems to worry about, right?

But then - again - this random Mandalorian shows up and the pickings are slim and his ship needs new parts and so on.

Sure, the bounty’s a few years old by this point and no one’s expecting anyone to pick it up, but it’s still a paying job.

So anyway, anyway.

That’s how Din picks up a bounty for this blond-haired idiot and it’s like.

Starts out as this regular job, right? Nothing super time sensitive, and also because this is Luke - and, okay, also Din - Complications arise.

Things like Din getting sidetracked by other, bigger matters - a small, green gremlin child at one point, just as an example.

Luke and his, well, everything.

Not to say hat Din doesn’t try to catch the blond-haired idiot, he does, just.

Stuff happens.

Things where he shows up just a little too late to catch Luke, but the local baddie’s base of operations is literally on fire and the locals - while grateful, are still reeling because wow, okay, wow.

New Republic will be by soon to help with the clean-up, but until then there’s work to be had.

Henchpersons and such hiding in the hills above a nearby town causing trouble and maybe there’s something in it for the Mandalorian if he helps out? (Payment, of course, what little they have to spare and so on, but also wide-eyed kids and a community in need and Din’s not heartless, alright?)

And so on.

Once or twice he actually runs into Luke, but it’s the kind of situation where they have to work together for survival and maybe one of them is injured so the other has to tend to their wounds.

Some bickering that turns to bantering and friendly-ish conversation and mutual respect that has Din looking the other way while Luke ~escapes because of course he does.

Other similar situations where Din’s not all that bothered about collecting the bounty on Luke’s head anymore because it’d just be awkward, what with all the times Luke’s saved his life and the like?

But still.

He uses the bounty as an excuse to get Luke out of some local authority’s hands a time or two, pretends they aren’t enemies or whatver people think as he drags Luke out of a cell and marches him through town to his ship, Luke’s head lowered, shoulders slumped and looking like a properly defeated criminal in the hands of a renowned bounty hunter to keep from laughing himself sick.

(Din all >:(((((((((((((((( because he hates Luke so much, seriously, so much and maybe this time he really will bring him in and collect that bounty because it would serve the smug bastard right.)

Other such shenanigans, and the whole goddamned time Din never realizes Luke’s a Jedi - Luke doesn’t hide the fact, but he’s always disarmed or unable to use his Jedi powers or Din’s unconscious and therefore misses the part where Luke is seriously OP and not a little terrifying??? So yes.)

Also?

Flirting.

So much flirting and Din is like “...” because usually they are in a Dire Situation in which someone/something is actively trying to make them super, duper dead, and maybe now is not the time, okay!!1!

(Maybe, though. Maybe a kiss, that one time it really did look like they were going to die on some planet no one remembered the name of, and Luke’s tired laugh as Din pressed their foreheads together, moments before a battered freighter - the kind smugglers tended to favor - roared overhead and one hell of a dramatic rescue took place, Din slipping away before he could draw too much attention to himself because Luke’s people and anyway, anyway, he had pressing business elsewhere and. Just. Yes.)

AND THEN.

The thing with Gideon and rescuing Grogu and what looks like a last stand before an X-Wing shows up Din is like “No....but maybe? No.

(...but maybe?)

Because Luke’s proven to have impeccable timing in the past and it’s been a while (years, and maybe some other bastard of a bounty hunter less likely to have a soft spot for Luke caught up to him, and really, what are the odds?) since the last time their paths crossed.

That whole thing where Luke was like not today, assholes, and tore through a platoon of Dark Troopers because Skywalkers are nothing if not dramatic bastards at heart, but also Din and that call for help and just -

“You’re a Jedi?”

Because they’ve known one another for years by that point, and Din should probably be more surprised about that revelation?

But also, okay, also.

Luke is just that guy, the one who just goes and does shit like that like it’s nothing, and Din is so very tired at the moment and maybe he’ll have a freakout later, but for now -

Yes.

...And then he and Grogu go off to train with Luke, because really, what else would they do? Grogu needs to be with his kind - and wow, okay, the look Luke gives Din when he says that, like his heart isn’t in his throat and all the love he has for that tiny green gremlin child of his and Din’s everything, and just.

Luke is like, “Why am I not surprised you’d say that?” because Din, but also Luke, and they’re too alike in that way, and anyway.

Din thinking he’ll have to leave, because attachments and dangerous and better that way, but then Luke asks about the Darksaber, and Din tells him - still confused, bewildered, because why and ugh no, and really, no, someone else take this stupid thing.

Which means - naturally - Luke has to train him how to wield it - “Laser sword, Din. I have one” - and Din shouldn’t accept for all the reasons he listed off above?

But.

He’d be stupid to turn Luke down, and he’ll leave as soon as he’s able, but of course ,of course, because it’s Din and Luke (and Grogu) Complications arise.

Things like the whole being in love with Luke even though he delights in being a smug bastard and other things and just.

Look.

When Leia comes to Luke to ask his opinion about rumors floating around of the new king of Mandalore and so on and how they could entice them to join the New Republic only to find her brother shacked up with the man in question and helping raise his green gremlin of a child?

Well.

(She was never keen on the forming alliances by marrying people off deal? But hey, if it works it works, right?)

[elleclairez]

Dating Kaz Brekker would include

Meeting each other :

You officially meet each other when Kaz becomes a member of the Dregs, which would mean that you were both around ten/eleven since he is a year older than you.

But in reality, Kaz met you way before. Before his life went down-hill. When he still knew what happiness meant. The first time he saw you was during his first days in Ketterdam when he and Jordie were living a happy life. The two brothers were walking down a street, cups of hot chocolate in hands when out of the blue, Kaz stopped in his tracks. He couldn't breathe, or a talk, let alone walk. Jordie even became worried until his eyes followed his brother's ones. Jordie understood what was happening the moment he saw you. A little girl in a beautiful dress, walking hand in hand with a woman that most probably your mother. Your smile, a grin from ear to ear could illuminate even the darkest street in all Ketterdam. Everything in you captivated Kaz, from your beautiful skin to your eyes, passing by your hair, nose... Slowly Kaz came out of his trance and pouted at his brother who was clearly laughing at him. But Jordie wasn't mocking him, he was happy for his brother and said "Grow up a little before and then fall for anyone you want. But seriously, she is cute." And then started chuckling again making little Kaz pouting even more. He might have been still a child, but even years later he will always think that since that day he understood what "love" meant. Even though Kaz was only nine, he knew that no matter who you were one day he will see you again.

And see you again, he did. But not the way he imagined. The second time he saw you again was a few weeks after his brother's death. Any trace of that innocent boy went away. But the same thing could be said about you. Any trace of happiness that could warm up any cold room disappeared.

Even after everything that he's been through Kaz could never get you out of his head. Weirdly enough, you were the second reason why he kept fighting to survive, well after getting revenge on Pekka Rollins obviously.

Imagine his surprise when he sees you one day on the docks of Ketterdam, hugging your mother. It took a few for Kaz to recognize you since you were so different that he remembered. You weren't physically different, no, but your smile, the trait that Kaz could never forget, well there was no trace of it. Instead, he saw your weeping eyes and your little arms hugging your mother. It would take years before Kaz finds out that the reason for this heartbreaking scene was that your mother had to go back to your home country, Ravka since as a powerful Grisha she had to fight for her country.

Hence why you had to stay with your grandfather, Per Haskell. Your mother didn't fully trust her father, but in her defense, at that time Haskell wasn't the horror that he became years later. And plus, it would always be better than to send you to your father, but that's a story for later.

Back to Dirtyhands, the young boy didn't even know you but seeing you cry and trembling of sadness made him want to protect you from the entire world. Something that he will actually do (or at least try to) in the future.

Now, let's go (finally) to the moment when you met. It was the same day Kaz joined the Dregs, he obviously already knew who you were but it didn't stop him from losing his ability to breathe when he saw you enter your grandfather's office so that he could introduce you to each other. Not that Haskell actually cared but he still did it since he was still a little a bit of a decent human being, at least for now.

Before the relationship :

Kaz and you connected right away. You were clearly opposites but it was fine for you. You balanced each other. You with your happy optimistic aura and him with his gloomy, sad one.

While Kaz trusted you with his life, he would never show it. Not until you admit to your feelings for each other at least. Not that he didn't want to be close to you but he chose not to. To protect you. To protect you from his demons, the danger that he could bring into your life. He knew you deserved better and he wanted that for you. He knew you could fend for yourself since you were an Inferni and the smartest person in the world (alongside him obviously) but he wanted you to get away from the Barrel as far as you could. He wanted you to go to University one day, travel the world, fall in love, have a family. He always told himself that would do anything for that to happen even if it meant not having you with him.

But you were having none of that. You showed him that you wanted him, as friends, lovers, you didn't care, you just wanted for you to be by each other's side.

So Kaz started to lower his guard, and at your fourteenth birthday, he finally admitted his feelings. You were so happy that you wanted to kiss him but knew you couldn't since you knew about his phobia and how it happened. You didn't' want to bring even more pain to him that he already feels every day. But Kaz thought otherwise and kissed you. The kiss was tender, short and awkward (since it was your and his first kiss) but it was the best kiss of your lives.

In the relationship :

Considering that you were a Haskell you were untouchable and yet somehow after becoming "Dirtyhands' girlfriend" it became even worse. Before the Dregs wouldn't get too close to you but now not even one soul in the Barell would even dare to even think about you. Because if they did that could definitely expect to get shot by a certain Sharshooter or get their troat slid by the Wraith or even worse get killed by Kaz himself and that I can assure you is definitely not a quick, painless death.

A year has passed since you started dating and you weren't known as "Per Haskell's heir" anymore but as "Kaz Brekker's partner" and any member of the Dregs were expected to be ready to die for you if the necessity came. But that wouldn't even be a problem since you were loved by everyone with your kindness but also sarcasm, humour and strength. No, you were nothing of a damsel in distress, you were a fighter, a powerful Inferni, but less cruel than the rest of the Barell.

Moving to the two of you. Outside of the safety of his (well yours since you basically lived there) room or floor to be exact, Kaz was cold as ice but you knew him well, or at least thought you did, then you'd be able to see small gestures that would show how much you mean to him.

First, they say our eyes are the mirror of our soul. Well, that saying is pro en true thanks to Kaz and you. During every meeting, every walk in the city, you could always feel Kaz watching you. Not in a creepy way, no, but in a caring way. Since he knows that he can't show any emotions in the streets, Kaz will always keep an eye on you, just to be sure that you wouldn't disappear or get hurt. Kaz would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Secondly, since Kaz is actually a softie on the inside (you can fight me on that but I won't change my mind) he will always make sure that you stay next to him, preferably with on of his gloved hands on the small of your back or if can't do that he will put his cane in front of you. In some ways, that gesture calms him down because he knows that he could protect you if needed.

Next, Kaz will always try to keep you as far as he can from violence. You are one of the only ones in the Dregs that hasn't suffered too much in your life and he wants that to stay that way. So he'll make sure to always keep you safe but since you are a Haskell you'd have to actually go into action once in a while and when that happens you can bet that he or Inej or Jesper or Nina will be by your side to protect you.

Kaz doesn't really know how to show that he cares so he'll just be protective. Sometimes it would be a bit too much and you would even fight because of it (and trust me when you fight the entire Barell knows about it) but you know that he does that only out of love so you don't stay mad at him for too long.

Now let's move on to the other side of the relationship, in the safety of his/your room Kaz is a softie. Firstly you're the only one who knows about his past, how he moved from his farm with Jordie, how that lived their first weeks in Ketterdam but most importantly how he survived the Queen's Lady Plague. The first time he told you about his past you cried as if feeling the pain that he was feeling. Since that day you became as protective of him as he is of you. No, but really, someone says something too cruel about Kaz then they better run because an angry Inferni is on her way.

Being with him also means that he actually allows himself to relax around you. It does as far that he can beat skin to skin contact but too much either. But that small hugs, kisses that you share are cherished by the both of you so much since they show how much you care about each other and it shows him that he isn't alone.

Relationship with the others :

Jesper and you. To describe you shortly, you are plationic soulmates. The two of you are so alike but so different at the same time. Your sense of humour is what actually made you grow closer and since that day you've inseparable. If one goes somewhere you can without a doubt expect the other one to follow, no matter how stupid the idea of the first one is.

Nina and you. You consider each other best friends or even more than that. In fact you are so close that while Kaz isn't jealous of your relationship with Jesper, he is constantly afraid that the Heatender would steal you from him. Funilly enough Nina has made a habit to always flirt with you whenever you see each other only to get on Kaz's nerves. Something that neither Matthias or Kaz are keen on since the two males both know what a power couple you two would be, just imagine a Heartender and an Inferni together, well even the Darkling would have been afraid. Not that any of the two would actually admit it.

Wylan is like a baby brother to you. You would always protect from anyone, would it be an unknown treat, Van Eck or even someone from the Dregs. Well maybe not the Dregs since they all know not to get on your bad side. The merchling saw you as a sister too. If he needed advice or help it's you that he would go to. You understood each other so well that people started to actually believe you were related. The only thing that always confused the boy was such a nice person like you ended falling from someone as grumpy as Kaz.

Matthias and you have a complex relationship. On one hand he felt obligated to hate you, you were a Grisha and the fact that you were with the "Demjin" didn't help your case. But with time he learned to respect you and considered you as his friend till the day he died. I mean you could not like you, you were nice and smart and beautiful (not that physical appearance matters but still). In fact Matthias cared fro you so much (platonically of course) that he even threatened Kaz that if the man ever hurt you then the Fjerdan would find a way to destroy. A threat that all the Dregs agreed to and even Kaz responded by saying that if he ever hurt you he wouldn't fight back.

To describe in one word yours and Inej's relationship you could use the word complicated. You respect each other and care for each other. You even consider each other friends, especially since Inej found out that you are the one who convinced your grandfather to pay off her debts to Tante Heleen. And yet you still have a weird relationship, especially because of. certain kerch boy. As much as you trust both of them you cannot deny that you are not fearful that one day Kaz might develop such strong feelings for the Wraith that he might leave you. But then again you two are strong and independent women so not man will in between your friendship and that is why at least once a week you can be found along with Nina and Inej eating waffles at your favourite place.

[dergonageloser]

Content warning: Death, mild gore

N'wen Mahariel isn't an expressive person. They're often reserved with their thoughts, rarely speaking unless necessary. It's how they've always been, their guardians even bringing it up to the Keeper as a child. Children don't usually stare out into the forest or the sky just Watching. Always watching. The Keeper only said that N'wen had been blessed by the Creators with a keen eye and unwavering focus on their surroundings. What more could they ask for in a clan of hunters? What did it matter that they couldn't look you in the eye when you spoke to them, or constantly twisted anything like a rope or twig into rough braids?

Hunting for food is only the beginning. N'wen picks up tracking as easy as breathing. Even days-old trails becomed clear for them to read. It's like they see patterns invisible to even the most experienced hunters. When asked about it, N'wen frowns and, after a moment of thinking, says "It's not seeing what's in front of you as it is. It's seeing what it would be had our prey not gone this way."

Most people stopped asking.

Except, of course, for Tamlen.

"We stopped finding actual tracks ten minutes ago," he says as he follows N'wen downhill. At twelve, just a year younger than N'wen, Tamlen is still a scrawny thing with a pitchy, cracking voice. "The rain this morning probably washed everything away, what are you even following?"

N'wen doesn't glance back, watching instead the soggy earth beneath them. The incline of the hill had allowed water to rush down and form temporary rivulets in the mud. More mud than the usual rains brought. N'wen turns their head further east, where the hill steepened gradually until slopes became cliffs. The forest's numerous trees blocked their vision, but they nod to themself.

"I think there was a mudslide over that way," they say.

Tamlen pauses. "Wait, really? How can you tell?"

With a solemn expression, N'wen touches their nose and replies, "Smells different."

For a long moment, Tamlen considers. Then declares, "Halla-shit."

A small quirk of N'wen's lips is the only thing that gives them away. Tamlen laughs.

He stops laughing, however, when they find the mudslide. An entire column of the cliff had collapsed into the narrow valley below, forming a river of mud and clay and rock and burying everything in it's path.

Including, it seems, someone unfortunate enough to be in the valley at the time. A pair of legs stuck in odd angles out of a pile of debris.

"Is that--?" Tamlen gasps, a heavy sick forming in his stomach.

"Not ours," N'wen says, voice soft but firm.

Tamlen can't pull his eyes away. "How are you sure?"

N'wen considers, then points at the feet. "No one at home wore boots today."

The mud is so thickly caked on the person's feet that Tamlen can't even tell.

"Are they--?" Tamlen starts.

N'wen doesn't respond, simply picks their way down the sodden slope towards the body. Their bare toes sink lightly into the ground, careful not to shift anything too much.

Tamlen immediately follows, but not without concern. "There could be another mudslide."

They look towards the cliffs, scrutinizing it, as though reading it's broken face. It was eerie the way their eyes became both focused and distant at the same time. N'wen had tried describing it to him once. Something like, "Seeing everything at once, both as it is and as it was." It's sound tracking advice, used by the clans more skilled hunters, but N'wen seemed to be able to memorize every place they've been to down to the smallest detail. Tamlen imagines that they're comparing the image in their mind to what's before them.

So Tamlen is willing to believe them when they say, "There will be, but not for another few hours at least."

Still, he gives the cliffs a glance, peering for whatever N'wen saw. With a sigh he pads down after them.

N'wen scans the debris burying the unfortunate person. They circle around, poking at a few rocks and branches here and there. Tamlen watches them, figuring it best to let them do their work. He keeps an eye and an ear on the area around them, in case another part of the cliff decides to fall on top of them.

Or if someone comes looking for the nameless body.

N'wen's hand clutches at the edge of a rock positioned at a specific point under the rest of the debris, testing it. They gingerly step over the protruding feet to look more closely.

After a moment, they wave their hand at Tamlen, who quickly steps closer. N'wen pulls out a wooden training dagger and points to a few broken tree limbs about them. "Prop some of those up around here." They point in specific spots, each one looking no different from the last.

Tamlen wants to ask why for Creator's sake, but he's never been one to doubt N'wen when their brow has that certain tightness, their a certain rigid. They wouldn't be dissuaded from their task. So he follows their lead.

Once done, N'wen motions for him to step back. Then, they dig the edge of the wooden dagger between their chosen rock. It takes several long moments, and a few slips of N'wen's fingers, for them to dislodge the stone from under the pile of debris.

When it was almost completely loose, N'wen drops the dagger and pulls gently with their hands. It slides free, and they leap out of the way as all of the debris collapses and slides further down into the valley. The tree limbs block the largest rubble from covering the rest of the body.

It isn't yet uncovered, but N'wen's cleverness had removed the heaviest debris with the least energy. Tamlen didn't have time to be amazed before they were diving back towards the body and digging at the loosened earth with their dagger.

Tamlen glances at the sun. They need to be back at camp before it sets, and it's already begun it's descent to the horizon. The valley in particular would darken more quickly.

He pulls out his own training dagger and gets to work helping them.

It takes at least half an hour, but the two manage to finally uncover the whole body. Mangled, bloodied, broken. The mud caked on their skin and clothes cover any gashes or flesh wounds, but arms aren't supposed to bend like that. Neither are necks. The skull looks misshapen, their nose crushed and their jaw hanging loose.

N'wen reaches towards the head. Their fingers tenderly wipe mud from around the ears first. Round, but coming to a soft point.

"I don't know any half-elves," Tamlen offered, unsure why he needed to say that but saying it anyway.

N'wen doesn't respond, their fingers moving to where the eyes would be. Tamlen thinks about stopping them, but fears if he opens his mouth he'd vomit. The thick grains of rock and clay fall away from a pair of half open eyes.

As Tamlen considers turning to find a good place to toss his lunch back up, N'wen finally presses their hand over the corpse's eyes to close them.

Their face is impassive, relenting nothing. But Tamlen sees how they hang their head for a moment and knows that they're mourning. A stranger, most likely. But a stranger that had been alive just hours ago.

"Do you think anyone's gonna be looking for them?" Tamlen asks.

N'wen raises their head a little, looking deeper into the valley. They're quiet, contemplating their breath and how easily it can be taken away.

"Does it matter?" they murmur after a time. "The dead don't care what happens after they die."

Tamlen sighs and finds a rock dry enough to sit on. "It would matter to the people they left behind." He picks up his wooden dagger again and starts flipping it. His chest feels heavy. "If I went missing suddenly, even I died, I think... I'd want someone to find me. Just so no one's left guessing." One flip misses his fingers and catches roughly on his knuckles. He winces. "I don't think I could handle not knowing, if it was any of the clan. My mother. You. So yeah, I think it matters a little, you know?"

Tamlen looks up to see that N'wen, without him noticing, had moved to stand in front of him. They had that pinch in their brow. Their short, curly hair dusted with dried mud hung around their dark face. Their eyes, a warm gold, looked directly into his. So rare was such that he finds himself surprised at how intense their stare could be.

"I would look for you," N'wen tells him. Their soft voice even quieter now.

Tamlen let's himself hold their gaze for as long as possible. Then, he smiles, a sad thing though it is, and says, "I know you would. I'd look for you too."

They eventually make their way back to camp, only able to forage for whatever berries and mushrooms the forest offered since they'd missed their chance to properly hunt. Tamlen tells the Keeper of the body and describes where he and N'wen had dragged it; namely, out of the immediate danger of the valley. A part of him thinks most of the clan would have left the corpse where it was, but he and N'wen had wordlessly agreed otherwise.

The Keeper's eyes soften with sympathy, and she has a small party organized to retrieve the corpse. It wouldn't receive a Dalish burial, she tells them, but they would give it the respect the dead deserved.

N'wen doesn't speak of it again, but Tamlen remembers their promise as years pass. Every time they part ways, however briefly, he accepts the possibility of never seeing each other again, because sometimes it happens. Sometimes you're unlucky enough to be in the wrong valley at the wrong time. But knowing that no matter what, he and N'wen would always look for each other, eased the worst of his fears.

When they share their first tentative kisses, they seal the final anchor in each other's hearts. Tethered together to their promise. Hot breath and fluttering pulses prove their life. N'wen always finds him first, always sees when he needs them.

Reserved as they were, Tamlen sees the emotions the rest of the clan stopped looking for. The need to keep him safe. Their nervousness when they first tugged at his collar to press their lips to his. The quiet laughs they give when he makes stupid jokes. Their unwavering loyalty to those they loved.

He cares little about what his mother or clanmates might believe. N'wen likely feels love stronger than anyone, Tamlen included. He thinks that's what pushes them to become a scout, to ensure their clan's safety by using their talent to spot dangers before they occurred.

Knowing that he's earned the friendship and affection of the best tracker in Fereledan gives him confidence each time he left camp. It's written in his heart now, their promise, and he holds it close.

Even as the taint chokes his breath and poisons his blood, as he stumbles blindly from the cavern where his best friend lay unconscious. They'll survive, they were always the stronger one. His body moves beyond his own control and he weeps, he weeps knowing N'wen will never stop looking for him. He weeps, because they will find something worse than a corpse.

He weeps even more from the relief, the certainty that N'wen will be the last thing he sees.

Time becomes meaningless as an instinct not his own draws him to other ghouls and darkspawn. Sometimes he follows them. Sometimes they follow him. The sickly song in his head grows stronger each moment until it's all he can hear.

He holds on by a thread. A thought. He'd clutched viciously at it when the song of the Old God tears everything else away and strips him of his being. His own name fades under it's horrible voice. But not this.

N'wen will find him. Or he will find N'wen. And they will know.

And he does find them. After endless nights battling the urge to snarl and howl and tear throats out with his teeth. He finds them with strangers, and he sees the moment their golden eyes recognize his under his marred, rotting skin.

"Tamlen," N'wen chokes out.

He lets his name settle in his mind once more. He sinks into their hold, relishing their warmth even as the song urged him to sink his teeth in their flesh. They hold a dagger, a metal one instead of wood, steady above his chest despite their quivering mouth.

"I looked for you," N'wen whispers.

Tamlen closes his eyes. The dagger points downward behind his collarbone, the most direct way to his heart. His voice is barely a croak.

"I know you did, Lethallan."

[somethingwritey]

sneak peek: “run to you” - a rangshi longfic

💖 i am currently working on a rangshi longfic (50k words at the moment) that i’ll eventually publish on ao3. it takes place directly following the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee. 

💖 my writing commissions are open! message me with commission requests or questions! 

💖 here’s a sneak peek of “run to you”! 

--- 

Kyoshi had blood on her hands.

Quite literally, at the moment.

She stared down at her palms and fingers, hoping they didn’t shake as badly as she feared.

She knew she needed to wash the weight of Rangi’s blood away, watch it swirl down her arms and out of sight, as if that alone could wipe away the pain she’d caused her girl, but for some reason, Kyoshi couldn’t seem to move her feet.

Every part of her felt heavy and languid, and it was hard work to imagine that these were the same limbs that had carried, defended, and healed only hours ago. Kyoshi wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for someone else to save the world for once.

Because that was the oh, so incessant problem about Avatarhood. No matter how many messes Kyoshi cleaned up, there were still new terrors cropping up the moment she sat down to catch her breath. It was exhausting. Behind all the makeup and armor, she was still the servant girl in the mansion - tasked with the never-ending job of cleaning up.

“You saved her life.”

Kyoshi lifted her head to see Hei-Ran, standing only a little less poised than usual. The teetering fate of Rangi had taken a toll on even the most rigid members of her group.

“I did my duty.” The words came out defeated, as if Kyoshi had lost instead of won. Then again, with Yun’s grey body lying somewhere inside the ruined mansion waiting to be put to rest, and a bloodied Rangi being tended to by Atuat, maybe she couldn’t claim victory after all.

Peace comes at a price.

She heard the words in Lao Ge’s voice, although she was fairly certain he’d never actually uttered them to her.

“You did far beyond that, Avatar.” Hei-Ran thought about it for a moment, then took a seat beside her - flicking her robes out behind her as she did. “You should be honored for what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, except no one will even know!” Kyoshi slammed her fists down on the ground, causing a small tremor beneath them. “Zoryu’s made sure of that! He gets all the credit, and all he’s done is sentence an innocent man to death!”

This outburst probably wouldn’t win her any favor in Hei-Ran’s eyes - the woman so committed to her duty that she’d willingly sacrificed her hair and honor to acknowledge her failures - but Kyoshi couldn’t help it.

Her first choice for a confidant would’ve been Rangi, of course. Or maybe Kelsang. But with the latter dead and the former barely conscious, she supposed the old headmistress would have to do. The woman had claimed Kyoshi as a daughter back in North Chung-Ling. Perhaps that warranted a bit of sympathy or at least a listening ear.

“The Fire Lord’s job is complicated,” Hei-Ran stated. “As is yours. You’ve both been tasked with the impossible: governing a world that does not wish to be governed by you. Chaos is the natural order, Kyoshi, as much as we pretend it is not. The Fire Nation must go to great lengths to maintain our control. Even if it… requires some bloodshed.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Kyoshi shook her head. She no longer felt the dull aching in her chest that used to come with a reminder of her station, but that didn’t mean the Era of Kyoshi hadn’t been stained with blood and confusion and deceit. 

“The Spirits chose you.”

Why?

The plaintive question would’ve made her sound like a child, so Kyoshi sealed her lips and kept the pleading inside. She wanted answers. And since Hei-Ran would understand nothing more about the mysterious methods of the spirits than she did, Kyoshi decided to at least start with something the woman stood a chance at knowing.

“Was Rangi mad?” She rubbed the side of her face and dried blood flaked off, fluttering towards the ground. “When I left, I mean.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Hei-Ran’s face. “Enough to shoot flames out of her ears.”

For a moment, Kyoshi tried to picture it - a steaming mad Rangi, with her face boiling red and fists clenched into tight balls. The last time she’d gotten that upset, the Firebender had flipped a table off a balcony. For a moment, the memory tugged at the corner of Kyoshi’s mouth - lifting it into a lopsided smile. 

And then the moment passed.

“I’m sorry I killed your daughter.”

Hei-Ran frowned. “You healed her, Kyoshi.”

Only after Rangi had traveled to fight alongside the girl who’d locked her into the ground and put her mother on a possible death bed. “Because I put her in danger. It doesn’t count. Doing right by her after that was just… canceling out the bad.”

Kyoshi felt like she’d been doing that her whole life: making mistakes and then fixing them. It didn’t seem right to take the credit for something she’d messed up in the first place.

You were the one innocent party, Yun had told her. Oh, if only that were the truth.

“Hei-Ran?” Atuat had emerged from the infirmary, traveling up to where Kyoshi and the headmistress sat. Hei-Ran was on her feet immediately, but whether to appear respectable in front of the doctor or out of fear for what news she’d bring, Kyoshi couldn’t be sure.

“How is she?” Kyoshi found her way to her feet as well, Atuat’s presence sending a fresh wave of worry down her spine.

“Oh good, Kyoshi’s here, too. Saves me a trip.” Atuat took her time reaching them and with each passing moment, Kyoshi found herself more and more on edge. By the time the Waterbender made it over, she could feel her body vibrating again.

“Well?” Hei-Ran demanded, clearly just as impatient as Kyoshi, but with better control over her exterior.

“She’s asleep.” Atuat’s manner always confused Kyoshi a bit. She never seemed exhausted by the threat of death. Perhaps she’d just become too acquainted with it, or maybe mastering the power of healing made her immune to the fear. Either way, she always emerged from battle hospitals like she’d finished a rather routine examination.

“Will she be okay?” Kyoshi remembered the crunch of earth as it impaled Rangi’s back. The way the blood had rushed away from her lips. How she’d looked up at her as the life drained away. “Is the damage permanent? I know I didn’t heal her right. I tried my best, but -”

“Kyoshi.” Atuat held up her hand. “Rangi is a strong girl. She’s going to be alright. In pain, certainly, but in the end alright.”

Kyoshi exhaled shakily, barely able to keep it together enough to thank her.

“You need rest, too, Avatar,” Atuat pressed, motioning down towards the infirmary. “There’s a spare bed down the hill.”

The last thing Kyoshi wanted to do was sleep. How could she just let herself clock out when Rangi needed caring for? When the Flying Opera Company was wounded? When Jinpa still hadn’t come down from his medicine high due to her own poor measurements?

As if Atuat could read her mind, the doctor narrowed her eyes. “That monk is off his rocker. You gave him too much.”

“Sorry, sifu.”

“Rest, Kyoshi,” was the only response she got in return. “And take off those clothes. You’ve got blood all over you.”

///

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Kyoshi jumped a little, hurriedly switching her gaze to the other side of the room and away from Rangi’s bed before deciding hiding it was futile. The Firebender hadn’t moved in over two hours, but apparently, the wounded girl was more perceptive than Kyoshi had anticipated.  

“I thought you were sleeping!” Kyoshi whispered, doing her best not to disturb Kirima and Wong, who were asleep in their respective wooden beds.

“I’m resting.” Rangi still hadn’t opened her eyes. “A concept you might not be familiar with.”

A hum of relief ran through Kyoshi’s arms. If Rangi was well enough to give her shit, then maybe that meant the girl would be alright after all.

“I know how to rest.” Kyoshi crossed her arms and did her best to look wounded.  

“Yeah, and Jinpa’s a murderer.”

Kyoshi glanced over at her secretary, who was propped up against the wooden headboard and still singing to himself in dulcet tones.  

“Kyoshi, please try to sleep,” Rangi pleaded.

Easier said than done. Sitting still seemed too difficult for Kyoshi at the moment, let alone actually falling asleep.

“Yeah, well,” Kyoshi mumbled offhandedly. “I’m not really keen on seeing you die again in my dreams.” It came out sounding more dire than she’d meant.

Only then did Rangi open her eyes, staring at Kyoshi from across the way. “I’m fine.”

It would’ve been a lot more convincing if her hands weren’t locked tight around the thin cotton sheets, compensating for some sort of pain she must be feeling.

“Fine?” Kyoshi stared at her incredulously. “You were stabbed.”

“Can you two please keep it down?” Kirima suddenly cut in, gesturing to her splinted leg. “Some of us are trying to heal!”

Apparently, her ability to tell who was asleep badly needed fine-tuning.

“Noise won’t delay that process!” Kyoshi shot back, trying to keep her smile at bay. She really had missed her friends.

Silence fell back over the infirmary, and Kyoshi allowed herself to lean against the headboard for the first time all night. She drew in a shaky breath, basking in the safety she felt around the Flying Opera Company - even if their legs were broken.

It was a few minutes before Rangi spoke again, lowering her voice to whisper in that raspy way of hers. “You’re pretty far away, you know.”

At first, Kyoshi wanted to protest that of course her energy was distant - she’d killed one of her closest friends and nearly lost the other one - before she realized Rangi was speaking literally. She closed her mouth. Hard.

A little too hard, actually. Her jaw still ached where Yun had thrown the discs.

Rangi even managed a little grin. “Do you think Atuat will kill you for sleeping with a patient?”

Giddy with the idea of lying beside Rangi again, Kyoshi slid out of bed and made her way over to the other side of the room. She’d flirted with the idea of climbing in before, but with Rangi’s fragile state, she hadn’t wanted to cause any more damage than she’d already done.

“You’re not gonna break me,” Rangi mumbled, but Kyoshi still saw her struggle to make space in the small frame.

“This is a bad -”

“Will you quit worrying and just crawl in, please?” Rangi did her best to pat the bed beside her, wincing horribly. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“Mmm, what a terrible fate,” Kyoshi grinned, finally allowing herself to gingerly lie down beside Rangi. “Sleeping next to Kyoshi. What an awful - hey!”

Rangi had elbowed her in the ribs. She tried to laugh, but it barely masked the tremor behind it.

“Stop hurting yourself,” Kyoshi hissed, laying an angry kiss on the Firebender’s cheek. “I mean it.”

In response, Rangi moved to curl up closer against Kyoshi’s chest, her eyes falling shut again. For a long while, they stayed just like that - Rangi in too much pain to move and Kyoshi too nervous about causing her any more. It felt awfully reminiscent of the first time they’d shared a bed, with Kyoshi awake all night inhaling the smell of Rangi’s hair against her lips.

Kyoshi had vowed to protect her then, and she still wanted to protect her now. She didn’t miss the way Rangi’s face screwed up as she slept, sleep inhibiting her ability to hide the discomfort. A couple of times, Atuat came to check on her. She clicked her teeth together at the sight of Kyoshi in the bed, but didn’t seem altogether surprised. The doctor didn’t force her away either, something for which Kyoshi was eternally grateful.

In the blue-grey hours of the morning, Kyoshi finally succumbed to the heaviness in her eyelids - letting them shut as her head fell back against the headboard - at last, too tired to worry about any new dangers coming for them that night.

-----

💖  that’s all for now :) i might post a little more soon! i’m very excited to get this up on ao3 in the near future!

💖 if you enjoy my writing and want to commission me, send me a message! my commissions are open! 

💖 keep an eye out for more commissioned pieces coming soon :) 

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (53) || atz

You’re standing at the bulwarks as you watch the crew preparing to storm the island.

The main deck is in a flurry of activity, the pirates gathering weapons and priming muskets. Even you aren’t spared from the hard work, you’re helping the men pack gunpowder into tiny bags for them to bring when they head ashore. There’s a sense of unease hanging heavily in the air, a prickling feeling creeping across everyone’s skin as they all take turns to glance worriedly at the approaching island, the ominous shape of it looming against the night sky like a harrowing nightmare.

Something uncomfortable lingers, tangible paranoia slithering over you.

“Are you worried?”

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Your master appears at your elbow, one arm slipping around your shoulders to pull you close. A sigh leaves your lips and you lean into his embrace, taking comfort in his warmth, inhaling the scent of wildflowers and herbs lingering on his skin. The familiar smell calms you down, if only a little.

“Yeah.” You answer honestly as Mingi commands a group of men to lower the anchor. The Treasure is set to be moored just off the eastern coast of the island, the only place where the waters are deep enough for the ship to be anchored without being beached. The plan, carefully laid out by Hongjoong, is for majority of the crew to disembark the ship and split into two teams. The first group is to ascend the hill located in the centre of the island as fast as possible, find Commander Kang or Jeong Gunho, get the antidote and bring it to Yunho as fast as possible. This team would be led by Jongho.

The role of the second team is to sweep through the forested area of the hill and take out any… unpleasant surprises there and keep the first team safe. This group would be under by Mingi and… Wooyoung.

You glance behind your shoulder to see Wooyoung sitting against the bulwarks alone, purple hair falling into eyes dark and silent as he focuses on lacing up his boots, primed muskets and small blades strapped all over his body, completely unaware of your gaze on him.

Something sinks in your chest when you look at him.

Wooyoung hasn’t spoken to you since that day on the mast and it’s been weighing on your mind almost as heavily as Yunho’s plight. You know, you know that you shouldn’t be so selfish, that you shouldn’t be thinking of the problems in your friendship with Wooyoung at a time like this, but you can’t help it. Over these last few days, there’s been a sinking feeling in your chest as you hope that maybe he’ll just speak to you, just look at you in the eye, but all your hopes have been for naught.

You sigh, and it’s at this moment that someone else steps up behind your shoulder.

“You alright, Chin Hae?” Hongjoong’s voice is steady, but you can see the genuine concern in his eye. You nod awkwardly as San’s arm tightens around your shoulder, trying to provide you with some comfort, but at this point, you don’t think anyone could give you any semblance of relief. You’re too worried, too tense, and even though you’re not the one physically going onto the island, you’re just as worried as any of the boarding party.

What if the antidote isn’t there?

What if the boarding party is overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Royal Navy’s crew? From what Hongjoong had told you, a Royal Navy frigate like the Black Crow carries large numbers on board.

What if… what if they die?

“I have a bad feeling that I missed out something in the plan…” Hongjoong mumbles under his breath and San clips his captain over the head, causing the older man to yelp in pain, scowling at his crew member.

“San! What in the depths of hell was that for?” Your master groans in exasperation and buries his face in his hands.

“You’re not helping things, you know!” San scolds his captain and Hongjoong looks like he’s just been smacked across the face, nearly shrinking into himself at San’s chastising. You’d find the sight hilarious had it not been for the circumstances you are in, the nerves weighing in your gut too heavy for you to even force out an amused smile.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” Hongjoong’s voice trails off as his hand hovers awkwardly at your shoulder before it clasps down, warm and gentle, soothing, almost. You attempt to give him a reassuring smile, nodding at your captain. You know he must be going crazy at being forced to stay behind on the ship while the rest of his crew puts themselves in danger, that he can’t be part of the boarding party like the rest of the crew, but he’s reining in his own frustration to comfort you.

He’s truly selfless.

You bite your lower lip. “Yeah… I’m fine, captain.” The words leave your mouth more naturally this time, not as forced as they were before, as if some part of you now truly believes that. San lets out a sigh of relief and pulls you closer for one last hug, before releasing you, patting your head reassuringly. Shaking your head in response, you turn to glance at Wooyoung’s silent form one last time before they disembark the ship.

Then you stumble.

The vertigo comes out of nowhere, sweeping through you and you nearly lurch to the side as the nausea and pain washes over your entire body, threatening to swallow you whole. It throbs, agony radiating from your chest right where your heart lies, outwards and throughout your form and you somehow register, through the haze of pain and panic, a sickening feeling building up in your throat.

Something metallic and warm.

Blood.

Your body rejects it immediately, trying to expel it from within you with a forceful cough. You’re used to this, it’s been happening more and more constantly over the last few weeks ever since you’d left that sea witch’s island. It’s been a pain to hide it from the rest of the crew, to keep it under wraps from Seonghwa’s watchful eyes and San’s keen intuition, but never impossible.

But this? The pain has never been this tormenting before, like white hot flames searing your very flesh, reducing your body to nothing more than ash. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, warring a battle against your own body as you desperately fight to hide the state that your body is in from your master and captain. You can’t let them find out that you’re ill, not at a time like this, at least!

“Chin Hae? Chin Hae! What’s wrong?” Warm hands come to hold you by the shoulders, voice edged with worry and concern. Even though you’re near blinded by the pain, your fingers somehow find his as scorching fire licks at your very bones, and you find yourself pulled into his chest as his arms wrap around you to keep you upright.

“Chin Hae!” San’s voice, alarmed and panicked, rings in your ears as if you’ve been struck over the head hard with a hammer, tears pricking at your lashes as you try to keep your balance. Your captain is strong and sturdy for one so lithe, you can feel the hidden, coiled strength in his chest and arms when you’re in his embrace, and for a moment, you just want to close your eyes and collapse so that all this pain can just finally end-

“What’s happening? San!” Your captain’s voice is laced with worry, sharp as a whip as he seeks his healer for an answer. But you know that San has no idea what is happening either, this secret yours to keep, buried deep in your chest.

“I don’t know!” Your master yelps, his voice unnaturally high pitched and trembling. You haven’t heard him this worried since the time Yeosang got shot in the back… and that was a matter of life and death. Your hand tries to lift itself of its own accord, wanting to find your master and tell him that you’ll be fine, that this is nowhere as serious as Yeosang dying…

As if in response to your thoughts, the pain leaves your body all at once like an ebbing tide, fading like a wraith in the morning daylight. You’re left trembling against your captain, his words fading in and out of your ears as he catches you before you fall to your knees in front of him, strangely exhausted.

“Chin Hae! Are you alright?” Hongjoong’s words nearly crack with fear as he pulls you upwards, so that your chin is resting against his shoulder and his arms are supporting your weight. San hovers behind anxiously and studies the sickly pallor of your face, as concerned as you’ve ever seen him.

Your heart softens at their genuine worry.

“Yeah…” You manage to croak out, trying your best to return to standing on your own two feet so you can show them that you’re perfectly fine. You don’t want them to look at you like that, anxious and worried out of their minds. You want them to keep smiling, keep staying safe and happy, even if something does happen to you… “I’m just tired and got dizzy for a moment… Master, can I go and lie down for a while?”

“Of course! I’ll bring you there… you need to take care of yourself!” San slips into a long ramble of the necessity of self care and getting enough rest as his arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you away from your captain, carefully leading you down the stairs of the forecastle deck to the sickbay so you can get some rest.

Your captain is left alone on the forecastle deck, watching with a silent, narrowed eye as the sounds of the crew preparing to disembark without him fade to nothing but white noise in his ears. His single green eye darkens as his eyes follow your form, crossing the main deck with San at your side, the healer carefully ushering you into the gloom of the sickbay.

Something is wrong.

Night has fallen.

The forest is eerily quiet, the only sounds in the still night air being the bell-like chirps of the crickets and the hushed murmuring of the men beneath as they discuss their next move. But Wooyoung tends not to concern himself with battle strategies and plans.

That’s Mingi’s job.

Instead, he rests on the boughs of one of the many trees scattered across the hillside, eyes shut as he concentrates on slowing his breathing, practicing what Seonghwa had taught him so many years ago.

Breathe in, count to five, breathe out, count to five, breathe in...

Wooyoung has always hated the still and silence of the night, the promises that the darkness brings, but this night, he hides away in the shadows away from prying eyes. He knows on the other side of the island, floating just a few feet offshore, is the Treasure, with you on it. Then he desperately tries to force every thought that involves your name from his mind.

No.

The memory surfaces in his mind before he can stop it.

“Have you been to Grand Iguana before, oppa?”

Your smile is so vibrant, so genuine as you lounge back against the main mast, eyes shining. The outline of the island of the Grand Iguana is reflected in your gaze, bright and alive. He’s exhausted with worry, hasn’t slept much for the last three days helping San tend to Yunho, every bone aching with weariness, but when he sees you smile like this, everything seems to fall away in an instant.

Wooyoung doesn’t believe that he’s capable of loving romantically. The wounds that criss cross his heart like claw marks are still too raw, still too fresh, he can’t risk having himself torn apart again, be played by women who only use him as an object to fulfil their own sick desires. But you’re a friend. One of the crew. Important to him, yes, but nothing more than that.

If you’re nothing more than that, then he can let his guard down around you.

If you’re nothing more than that, you can’t use him that way.

If you’re nothing more than a friend, he’s safe with you.

Stifling a groan that threatens to fall from his lips, his fingers clench and unclench around the grip of the musket hanging from his side, as his other hand comes up to rub fiercely at his temples, trying to fight off the phantom pains echoing in his mind.

“Yeah.” Wooyoung manages to answer, his fingers closing around yours. He’s realised that he does it often, his hands searching for yours every time you’re close to him, as if magnets exist in him that draw him to your side instinctively.

Your hand is warm in his.

He tries to joke a little to brighten up your mood, aware that you’ve been driving yourself crazy with worry over Yunho’s plight. “Not a lot of pretty ladies here.”

The words surprise him the moment they pass his lips. He realises, with something resembling incredulous shock, that he hasn’t thought about women since… he can’t remember. Hasn’t felt the urge to remind himself that he’s the one who is in power now, hasn’t felt the need to search out a female body to satisfy his needs, hasn’t felt the desire to paint over those terrible memories with new, sexual ones…

You elbow him in the side and it startles him out of his momentary stupor, and when he sees the awkward, blushing smile on your face from his words, his heart constricts tightly.

It’s almost painful.

He doesn’t understand.

“It’s not nice to say that in front of me.” You tease lightly, looking a little downcast. His eyes are simply drawn to your features, admiring the slant of your nose, the softness of your cheeks, the gentle curve of your smile, the affection in your eyes.

You’re beautiful to him, he thinks to himself with a sigh. And you should know it.

Wooyoung’s hands raise to grip his hair by the roots tightly with a muffled scream, the shackles scraping roughly against his wrists. He was such a fool, such a fool, such a gigantic, massive fool-

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s taken both your hands in his, fingers running over yours. His lips descend to touch them with feather like kisses, wanting for you to know how much you mean to him, how you’re nothing like the women in his life before, how you’re an irreplaceable friend to him.

It’s just a few simple words.

His mouth opens to speak.

“I-”

Then his words falter and die on his lips, every warning bell in his mind screaming at him to stop right now before he says something he can never take back.

A sob rips itself from his chest. What did he want to say? Why… why had those three words, words he had sworn to never speak in his entire life ever again, come to mind so easily, so naturally, as if it were truly his own desire?

He couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t bear it.

Couldn’t face it.

So he had fled before you like a coward.

He couldn’t forget the look of utter hurt on your face. Guilt and regret had sunk in a few days after, but he didn’t know how to look at you in the eye again without feeling those phantom pains across his body all over again.

They were scars, physically, and he knew that more than anyone else. They weren’t able to hurt him any longer, shouldn’t be able hurt him any longer, but it was as his captain had cautioned him years back, when he’d first joined the crew.

“I might have broken your chains, but only you can free yourself. What I can do is be here for you. I promise.”

He can feel them.

The poisonous hands on his body, sliding up his bare legs and around his neck, yanking hard on his collar as he struggled for breath, tears slipping from his eyes as he fought to keep in his sobs.

The claws leaving crimson indents on his skin, the lips dancing across his skin, leaving a trail of bright red bruises in their wake, each one stinging painfully as blood trickled from them, leaving a mess of scarlet on the sheets.

The cold weight of the shackles around his wrists, seemingly weighing him down even though his hands were no longer bound-

“Wooyoung!”

Luckily, before he can descend into a full blown panic attack, Mingi calls from him from below. Wiping the tears from his eyes as quickly as he can, he ignores the weight of the shackles around his wrists and leaps down from the tree, landing nimbly on his feet.

“What do you need me for?” He clears his throat, but his voice is hoarse. Mingi doesn’t seem to realise the state his friend is in, eyes too preoccupied with scanning the area around them. Then he bends down to whisper into Wooyoung’s ear.

“Something… something seems off.”

At those words, Wooyoung frowns. Something is off?

“I don’t know… It’s just a nagging feeling in my chest.” Mingi curses and shakes his head, running his hands anxiously through his hair. “I can’t figure it out… it’s probably just paranoia or whatever, but it just...”

But Wooyoung’s no longer listening to him.

His mind suddenly runs through every conversation he’s had with Hongjoong, all the time spent poring over the maps with Yeosang, planning for this raid. It doesn’t make sense to him at first, the thought coming together slowly in his mind until the horrifying, stark answer spells itself out for him.

If the area the Treasure is now at the only place deep enough for a ship to drop anchor without getting beached and General Kang is already on the island…

His eyes widen in terror and he whips around to stare at the sea, barely visible if not for the slight moonlight rippling off the waves of the ocean.

“Wooyoung? Wooyoung, what is it?” Mingi grabs him by the arm and he merely spills the words that are at the forefront of his mind, his body numb with shock.

“Where is the Black Crow?”

He can see the exact moment Mingi understands what this means as well, his mouth falling open in shock as he whips around to scream orders at the men.

“It’s an ambush! They’re targeting the Treasure!”

Just as he says those words, the night sky lights up in a brief flash of light, followed by a sound Wooyoung is only too familiar with. His heart sinks in his chest.

The sound of a cannon shot.

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations

Part 26 here!<-

Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.

“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”

“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”

“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”

A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”

“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”

“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”

“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”

“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”

“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”

Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.

“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”

“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.

“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”

“Nick told you to do that!?”

“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”

The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”

Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”

Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”

“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.

“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”

“So talented!”

“Can you sing for my birthday!?”

All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.

As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.

“Hey soldier.”

“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”

“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”

“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”

“Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.

“Hold on…”

“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”

“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.

Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”

“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”

“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”

“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”

“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.

“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”

“I could call you that while you teach me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”

“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”

Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”

All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”

“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”

“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”

“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”

The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.

“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.

“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”

“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.

“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”

“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though…you look a little red? Are you sick?”

“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”

“Out back with Jaune.”

“Really?”

“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”

“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.

“Think I’ll get lost or something?”

“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”

“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”

With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”

Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”

“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”

“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”

xxxxx

In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”

“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.

“How’s your father?”

“Oh you know him, always up to something.”

Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”

“Heh, push myself? Me?”

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”

“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”

Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”

“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”

“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”

Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.

“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”

He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”

“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.

“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”

“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”

That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”

She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.

Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”

“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.

Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.

“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”

“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”

“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”

“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.

“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.

“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”

Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”

Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”

Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”

“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”

“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”

“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”

Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.

“Okay? I’m following you so far.”

“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”

Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!

“Ummm…”

“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”

“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”

“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”

“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.

“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”

“What’s next?”

“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”

Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.

“Woohoo!”

“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”

“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.

“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”

Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”

“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”

“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”

“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”

“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”

Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.

“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.

“And how do we manage that exactly?”

“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”

“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.

Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”

Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”

“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”

“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”

“You made a safety net for third”

“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”

The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”

“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”

“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”

“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”

“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”

He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”

“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”

He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.

“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”

Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.

Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”

“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”

“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”

“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”

Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?

[mallorykeen]

Sapphic Summer Day One

@sapphic-summer-riodanverse-2021

It would’ve been a pretty standard day for her. Killing people here, killing people there, getting killed herself, waking up, doing other stuff until she went to sleep and repeated it all. 

It was a Tuesday too, free for all fighting, the best kind. No stupid wyrms to mess things up, no seige warfare where she got hit by missles or killed by stupid hyperactive diseases. 

No, today was just good old fighting, dodging falling bodies and flying axes and hoping her knives would find their mark somewhere in another einherji’s throat, or at least an important artery. 

It was kind of awkward when they took a while to die and were just looking up at you all betrayed and in agony. 

Unfortunately her moronic hallmates, her so-called “shield brothers” had gotten themselves killed already. Halfborn took an axe straight to the dick and she just ended it quickly for him because his squealing was uncomfortable to be around and T.J. decided to try and charge a legion of Thor’s children from Floor 35 and fell unlucky from being fried with lightning. 

That looked like it hurt. Poor T.J.

So she was all alone, just standing behind a tree a few minutes after T.J. died, trying to gauge where she could make the most effect, when she realised she’d been spotted. 

Now, she wasn’t hiding. There was a difference. She was being strategic, clever, all that. If she was a coward, she would’ve just left. Or never arrived. Or just not in Valhalla at all. They were “Odin’s chosen warriors” after all. Except her hallmates. They were just Odin’s chosen idiots. 

The fucker with the eyepatch and the axe was there. Mallory hated him. He talked too much and was just so smarmy and annoying and thought he was so much better than anyone just because his mom was Frigg. What an arsehole. 

“Keen!” Oh great he’d spotted her, “How’s it going?”

“Shut the fuck up, let’s just get this over with.” She drew her knives but even they weren’t much compared to the entire group of sheep with Eyepatch and their purposefully deadly weapons. 

“Let’s-” He was suddenly cut off by a sparking flying hammer to the head, bursting his skull open in a way which was almost artistic, if it wasn’t plain disgusting. 

Mallory couldn’t see far enough down the hill to see who had killed him but Eyepatch’s group could and did, since they all turned tail up to her and started running away. And chasing after them, at the bottom of the hill, holding a matching sparking hammer, in full armour and already bloodied, was the woman, the legend herself: Gunilla. 

She gulped and took up a fighting stance, ready to meet her. If anyone was taking her down today, it would be the most beautiful and most terrifying woman Mallory had ever met. 

Gunilla didn’t look interested in fighting her though. She went for the stragglers, people who were running away from her, just not fast enough. When she reached her, she stopped clean in front of her. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to help me kill them? They were going to kill you.” She was so tall, Mallory had to crane her neck to see her face properly. The sparking and lightning had gone but in her icy blue eyes, there were still tinges of it firing away, like synapses in a brain. 

“Oh! Of course, uh, let’s- let’s go.” 

“Come on.” Gunilla grabbed her wrist, despite Mallory’s complaining and lifted her off the ground and onto her back, charging right to where the rest of the einherjar were hiding or trying to escape. 

The problem was, this hill had a bottleneck entrance into this basin, where there was a lake. Outside of battle, it was probably very beautiful, but at the moment, there were too many corpses, or soon to be corpses, lying around, for Mallory to appreciate it properly. “Lemme down!” She kicked Gunilla’s back and was dropped onto the ground immediately. 

“You’re welcome for the lift.”

“Thanks? Now can we please deal with them.” She pointed at them, trying to find another exit. There wasn’t one. She’d discovered that the hard way when she and her hallmates got chased in there, about five years ago and ended up drowning because of it, pushed in by some dickhead from floor 29. 

“My pleasure, you stop them escaping, I deal with them?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mallory felt herself blush from Gunilla’s rare grin, probably matching her hair. 

She marched off, cornering a few quickly while the worst of them jumped into the lake, trying to escape her by water since her armour would probably drown her before she caught them. 

Mallory grimaced. That was a poor mistake to make. 

As soon as all the einherjar on land were dealt with, bloodily and bodily, Gunilla set her sights on the lake. 

She left her post at the bottleneck and joined Gunilla at the edge, who was looking at the water, almost gleefully. “So, you’re going to do your zappy thing and kill them?”

“Yes. It’s gonna be fun.”

“I like your style.” She cocked her head to the side, “But why do I never actually see you out here so often. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you on the battlefield.”

“Huh,” Gunilla looked up. At her. Like, right at her. “I’m just busy. Lotta paperwork with the valkyries and the thanes and all that. Figured I deserve a break. And I’m looking for a new sparring partner, I don’t want to feel like I’m getting out of practice, you know?” She flexed her biceps and Mallory couldn’t resist it. She just felt it, only for a minute. 

“Sorry! Sorry. I-”

“It’s fine. You fight good though. What you doing next Saturday?”

“You want me to spar with you?”

“If you want to.” She looked… nervous? 

“Course I do.” She finally tore her gaze away from Gunilla’s face, to the einherjar trying to escape the lake now, furiously swimming to the side now that they were apparently distracted. “You wanna deal with them now?”

“With pleasure.” She focused for a few seconds and her hammer started sparking away and she slammed it down on the water, being careful to let go in enough time, just in case and both her and Mallory took a steady step back. 

Once it was over, they were both still standing there, looking at Gunilla’s hammer, which was sitting in the shallow part albeit, covered in water, still sparking away.

“So how are we getting that back?”

“I may have not thought this far through.”

“Seriously-” She was lucky she was cute. 

[emerald-amidst-gold]

I blame no one but myself

Since I saw @little-lightning-lavellan​ create THIS I had to do it for Fane. You have a glorious mind, just so you know! I had to do this, and as a result, I splurged. Holy fuck. Strap yourself in folks!

***

You have selected _____ to join your party! Is your OC a Companion in the Dragon Age series? What would it be like for a player to select them to join their party for quests (or romance them, perhaps? 👀)

(yes, I will always use this picture until the day I die. Fight me.)

Fane Lavellan (born 9:17 Dragon) is a Dalish warrior and hunter from Clan Lavellan, but abandoned the clan at the age of 20. He feels no kinship with his own clan or the Dalish as a whole. He is a volatile young man that is prone to bouts of rage, but also indifference, swapping between the two at any given moment. However, he shows an astounding sensibility with keen observational skills and a plethora of worldly knowledge that many would not assume a mere Dalish warrior to have. 

Inquisition scouts report that he was along the fringes of the hills surrounding the Conclave several hours before the blast, seemingly observing the gathering of the mages and templars with levels of confusion and intrigue, but was within the village itself when the initial explosion occurred, thus he was brought in as a potential suspect and questioned as to his reasons for being there. Fane stated he was ‘just watching’ and left it at that, so the Inquisition decided to keep him close so they themselves could ‘just watch’. (If playing the Mhairi World State then his reason for being in Haven is as a bodyguard for his sister, and stays with them for her sake alone. He does not leave Clan Lavellan in this world state.) 

Fane is a starting companion (appears at the first initial rift with Solas and Varric) and is a romance option for either a female or male elf or human. The initiation of the romance is, however, based on the approval scale. You must be at a certain percentage upon the initiation scene, otherwise, the flag will be unavailable (Dalish Inquisitors start with infinitely lower approval than human, dwarf, or Qunari Inquisitors). If playing the Mhairi World State then romance option is voided, and a background relationship like Dorian and the Iron Bull will be initiated with Solas through banter hints during the game. The background relationship applies for other world states, and for low approval, or if the Inquisitor does not romance Solas.

His primary abilities upon recruitment are centered around two-handed and DPS, but can be  respecced after the first seal attempt. Fane’s specialized Ability Tree is akin to the Reaver Ability tree, and unlocks along with other companions’ Ability trees after Haven. However, he has two personalized activated skills named Emotional Baggage and Leashed, But By Choice. 

Emotional Baggage is a support, sustained AOE ability that Fane can activate to use the emotional duress of an enemy (i.e. status effects such as panic or weakened.) to augment his, the Inquisitor’s, or other companion’s abilities and basic attacks. This ability eats away at his stamina however and when depleted, Fane is unable to use any of his other abilities for a short period of time, and his basic attacks and general movement is impaired. 

Leashed, But By Choice is an ability exclusively tailored to support either Solas or the Inquisitor (if high approval or within the Mhairi World State). When within the appropriate radius of either one, Fane can ‘tether’ himself to Solas or the Inquisitor to bolster their strength by feeding his emotions through the link established. Any debilitating effects upon Solas or the Inquisitor is transferred to him and redistributed back through with fiery purpose. (status effects stack until stamina pool is depleted) If Fane’s stamina pool is completely depleted when the tether is still established, he will begin to take high amounts of spirit damage due to all debuffs circling back to him until he disconnects himself, or Solas or the Inquisitor cease any basic or activated attacks. (If friendly fire is toggled on, Solas or the Inquisitor can direct an attack towards Fane to forcibly remove the link if he is unable to).

Fane’s focused ability is circumstance dependent, meaning it is only activated if Solas has fallen or is at critical health. (If playing the Mhairi World State, it will be available if Mhairi falls or is critically injured, as well.) It is listed with the name Shattered Vow and is along the lines of the base focus ability Berserk. However, Shattered Vow greatly amplifies abilities such as Dragon Rage and Devour, and has no cooldown times on either, but at the cost of extra amounts of health when used. Stamina rate of depletion is exceptionally lowered during the duration of the ability, but upon focus depletion, or if Solas or Mhairi is revived or healed, Fane will immediately collapse and be incapacitated for the rest of the fight. (Revival, potions with Lifeward, or if Healing Grenade is upgraded with Revival will not work to recall Fane.)

Combat Comments

Kills an enemy

(scoffs) Disgusting.

I’m sick of you! *if enemy downed is a mage*

(snarls) Don’t touch me! 

Kills an enemy (after Haven)

(tired sigh) Will it ever end?

So much red..

I wasn’t made for this..

Low Health

(growls) Permission granted to heal!

Suledin.. S..Suledin.. Vir enasalin.. 

I..I have to..keep going..

Low Health (Companions)

(the Inquisitor) Stop attacking! Focus on the Inquisitor! He/She is injured!

(the Inquisitor - if Dalish) Will pride be your downfall, too?! Someone help the Inquisitor!

(the Inquisitor - Mhairi World State) Help, Mhairi! NOW!!

(Solas) Solas! You damned fool! Fall back!

(Varric) Varric! Archers in the back, warriors on the front! Get it?!

(Cole) Cole! Easy, damn you!

Fallen Companions

(the Inquisitor) - If you fall, we all fall! Get. UP!

(the Inquisitor - if Dalish) I thought you would never submit?! 

(the Inquisitor - Mhairi World State) My, no! (voice cracks) NO! Open your eyes! OPEN THEM!!

(Solas) Solas! (snarls angrily) I swear if you’re not breathing when I get to you, I’ll--I’ll--! 

(Solas - if romanced by Fane) No..NO! (choked up) We made a vow, Solas! It can’t shatter again! I need you!

(Iron Bull) I’m large, but you’re larger, you oaf! Get up!

(Cole) Cole, no! You still have so much to see, to observe! Come on!

(Varric) I don’t fancy having Hawke’s hands on my throat, dwarf! 

(Cassandra) The Seeker’s down? (snarls) Fuck me!

Location Comments

If within radius of any Elvhen artifact 

Fane: I’m..going to stay out here.

Inquisitor: Is everything all right? What’s wrong?

Fane: Nothing. It’s just more practical for someone to stay outside in case of trouble. Go on.

If within radius of any Elvehn artifact and Solas is in the party (primarily after Haven)

Solas: There is an elven artifact nearby.

Fane: (sighs) Of course there is.

Solas: Ir abelas. We shall be quick.

Fane: Go on, then. I’ll be here. 

Exalted Plains

The land is burnt to ash here. How typical.

The sky is...grey. (sighs) I want to leave already.

(Within Halin’sulahn) 

Fane: Could we have built a life here? Harmonious with them and free? Without a yoke to bind us, a noose to threaten us?

Inquisitor: With humans, you mean?

Fane: Huh? Hum--? (clears throat) Yeah. Yeah..

(when reading one of the plaques depicting the Exalted March)

(growls) The world would be better off without religion. (scoffs) Zealots, all of them.

(Approaching the Dalish camp)

Inquisitor: Huh. Look. It’s the Dalish encampment.

Fane: Traipsing about a battlefield? (scoffs) Idiots. I feel bad for the halla.

Emprise du Lion

(takes a deep breath) Ahh, feel that? That’s cold. (chuckles) Just how I like it.

I need to shed a layer...or five. How can you all stand so much fur? Ugh. 

Watch for falling snow from the branches. It’ll crush you as surely as any boulder would.

(near red lyrium) 

This stuff needs to know the perpetuity of black. Destroy it already.

My head is pounding. (growls) Can we get moving? Tsk.

(after walking across Judicael’s Crossing)

Fane: I hear them..

Cole: They’re confused, crazed, chained. They want to correct it, but it’s too much..

Fane: ...Let’s go.

Temple of Mythal

 (entering the temple)

Guess the elves learned how to cherish some things. Don’t let that be in vain.

(after meeting Abelas - didn’t attack)

Fane: I wonder if they know..

Solas: They do.

Fane: Hmph. That’s...good, I guess.

Companion Comments about Fane

Varric: Tempest? (laughs) He’s a handful, but he’s not so bad once you get past it. Elf can drink, too! The other night, half the soldiers were knocked out cold and he was still wide awake!

Blackwall: Have you ever played Diamondback with Solas and Fane at the same time? Don’t. My coin purse is still recovering from that duo. 

Sera: Grumpy? (cackles) I put a rat in his bed roll the other day and I friggin’ swear his hair turned as red as his face after the screech he let out! ...I had to hide out in the kitchens all day, though. 

Cole: His eyes hold dueling duality. He wonders when the battle will end.

Cole (if Fane is romanced with the Inquisitor): He doesn’t know which side he wants, but observing you gives him hope. He feels safe with you.

Solas (not romanced with Fane): Fane has been through a lot, Inquisitor, but his words do not wholly define him. Observe him as he observes all of us, and you will see that.

Solas (if romanced with Fane): (chuckles) Ma’isenatha? He is special, Inquisitor. In more ways than you realize. (more quietly) ...He is more important than you realize.

Iron Bull: He gives me a wide berth for some reason, but he’s one hell of a fighter! (hums) Sort of unhinged though. Like he doesn’t know he’s even moving in for the kill. Kind of worrisome, if you ask me.

Dorian: Fane? (chuckles) Have you ever heard him speak when he thinks no one’s listening? That man is a walking poetry book! Caught him reciting one to himself one time and when I asked about it, he turned beet red! I swear the man’s eyes changed colors from that alone!

Leliana (if not playing the Mhairi World State): I don’t know much about him, or rather, I cannot find much about him. For a large man with very unique features, he remains shadowed. ...And he seems to want it that way.

Leliana (if Inquisitor is Dalish): I attempted to contact your clan after Haven to gather information, but...all inquiries were met with refusal or deflection. You yourself mentioned you had never interacted with him, yes? I believe there is more going on than Fane wishes to admit.

Leliana (if playing the Mhairi World State): Your brother is highly observational and subtle for a man so large. He had taken one of my investigations as his own, and brought back amazing amounts of intel that uncovered a ring of mages attempting to repeat the same dragon control from the Grand Cathedral. ...Would you be adverse to me making him an agent?

Trespasser

No matter the romance or world state, Fane becomes unavailable at the end of Inquisition. If romanced, however, he will leave the Inquisitor a letter stating that he’s sorry, but he can’t continue to ignore what is needed for what he wants. If playing the Mhairi World State, he also leaves a letter, but the message is attached with the favor Mhairi had given him when he turned twenty-one; a velvet sash. After various attempts of locating Fane and turning up no leads, he is presumed out of bounds of Thedas or dead.

During Trespasser, upon the final eluvian that ultimately leads to Solas,  the Inquisitor will be stopped by a dragon masked warrior, who is also blocking the Viddasala from entering the mirror. Even when questioned, the warrior doesn’t speak and ultimately moves to the side to allow passage, but not before finally saying, in fluent Elvhen: ‘Your wings are clipped, and only stone awaits you.’

When the Inquisitor speaks to Solas, he will explain that Fane is not dead or missing, and is actively within the Crossroads as they speak. Any circumstance will yield questions from the Inquisitor as to Fane’s exact whereabouts, and Solas with state, with a saddened smile, ‘He saw you when you came in, but you did not do the same courtesy. Such is the way the world views his kind.’ If the Inquisitor made an effort to learn the history of the elves, their downfall, and Solas’s own identity, then he will explain exactly what Fane is and who he is to Solas himself. If not, then Solas will say to find Fane themselves to learn the complete truth and will only explain his own side. 

In the Epilogue, it is made known that the warrior the Inquisitor passed in the Crossroads was Fane, after Leliana’s agents reports sightings of a large male along the fringes of Tevinter, wearing the same armor, but without the mask attached. It is later revealed that Fane is working as one of the Agents of Fen’harel, but mainly as Solas’s second in command.  

Trivia

Fane has an unhealthy obsession with anything sweet. He often gets stomach aches.

He is demisexual, thus why his romance is based upon the approval scale.

Fane is the only companion that cannot have armor crafted for. He will equip himself as levels dictate.

His area within Skyhold is situated in three places: The third floor in the tavern with Cole, leaning on the crates in the rookery, and most frequently, reclining on the couch in the rotunda, reading.  Sometimes banter will trigger between him, Solas, Cole, and Leliana. During Haven, Fane can be found along the edges of the training yard or along one of the broken docks.

His idle animation has him scanning the sky with his arms crossed, or clenching and unclenching his fists.

He enjoys the scent and look of Gladiolus. 

If not playing the Mhairi World State, Fane is revealed to have no family beyond his deceased mother and missing father, the latter he speaks of with great disgust and loathing, however.

There is a DLC called Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows that doubles as Fane’s personal quest which reveals towards dragons having a greater influence beyond the Old Gods. It hints towards Fane’s identity, as well, but it is not resolved until Trespasser.

Fane can speak and write in fluent Elvhen, but refuses to unless pressed.

Fane’s Reaver ability Dragon’s Rage is a silvery blue color rather than crimson. Upon activation of Shattered Vow, however, the blue is mixed with red.

It is revealed in Trespasser that Fane was able to ‘tether’ with the Inquisitor due to the mark, since it is Solas’s magic. 

He is secretly claustrophobic. This is revealed in The Descent DLC, if taken.

He personally tests every strange bottle of liquor the Inquisitor finds in the wilds.

The Mhairi World State is an origin preset for Fane to personalize the player’s experience with him through special dialogue and unique buffs.

Fane’s ‘climax’ romance scene reveals the abuse he underwent as a child from his father. His scars are exposed for the Inquisitor to see, then.

Refers to Solas as ‘my sky’, if in a romantic relationship. If involved with the Inquisitor, he will call them, ‘my wings’.

***

Yeah, I got carried away. I had to stop myself because I think about this a lot since Fane was not originally my canon Inquisitor. Not entirely canon compliant, but you all know me, I recognize canon, but I don’t chain myself to it. XD

[sagasofazeria]

Old Wounds

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 5

Summary: The gang arrives in Koretion, and they find things look to be more personal than they’d seemed for a few members. They gather information on their foes and prepare to confront the slavers.

Taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin @talesfromaurea @thelaughingstag

content warnings: discussion of slavery, discussion of death, discussion of childhood trauma, swearing, violence, murder, death, blood

word count: ~ 4200

The clouds were gathering again that morning, a looming promise of storms to come. As the first light of dawn peeked through the gray sky, Faulkron was sitting next to the remains of the fire, staring into the ashes.

He was awake first, a benefit of being elvish and not having to sleep, even though he often preferred to. Along with his keen senses and the fact that he rarely had to drink water, since his body stored it in a special set of vein-like vessels (which he’d freaked out about finding at age 7), made him quite the efficient adventurer.

The fact that sometimes his eyes glowed in the dark, or his blood gave off a faint blue light, was sometimes less helpful.

He looked around the camp at his companions’ sleeping forms. As he scanned around, he remembered what Elikon had told him. “No one does this just for fun. We’ve all got our issues...”

Fuego, who, fiery and rambunctious as he was, seemed almost scared when they’d told him to be careful of his fire.

Jetra, who had approached Faulkron and 2 other random mercenaries out of the blue one day, then ‘found’ a job the very next.

Shakari, an arcane warrior from a desert across the continent. Why was she here, in this place? Why did she care?

Finally, he turned to Alejandro. They’d met, hit it off, had a wonderful night. Faulkron was scared to expect any more, but a guy could dream. Then suddenly, he decides to go with him on a week long journey for a bounty? Not to mention whatever was up with last night. Out of all of them, Alejandro had to be the most mysterious to Faulkron, and he could admit he liked it. Even now, as he was sleeping, Alejandro seemed tense, restless.

Faulkron had no idea what any of these people were here for, but he couldn’t help wanting to know.

He looked down at his sheathed blade, lying on the soft dirt next to him. Even he was here for a reason, wasn’t he? Who were these people to him? Allies? Stepping stones? He thought he was here for money, but there was no legacy to be had with heavy pockets and no glory. So was he here for glory? He thought so.

The truth, the truth Faulkron was too scared to acknowledge, was that he didn’t know why he was here.

He stared for a long while at that sword.

Eventually, the gray of the fading night turned to brilliant blue, as the morning’s light spread across the landscape.

As the rest of the group roused from sleep, Faulkron began to gather his things, sharpening his sword and donning his armor, still quiet in his thoughts.

That day, tensions were higher, and the morning more quiet. They were all wary of another attack, and thinking ahead to their arrival.

By midday, the clouds had grown thicker still, but the rain hadn’t come yet. The road had grown wider and looked better traveled, but it was oddly empty, considering how close they were to town.

Before long, Fuego called out from his scouting position on a tree branch a little ways ahead.

“Hey! We’re here!”

They all sped up their pace, following where Fuego was until they too could see the town of Koretion up ahead.

It was a smaller mining town, carved into the side of the large natural pit that served as its stone quarry. The hills rose up, looming and rocky, all around. The huts and houses were made of carved stone, and most of the inhabitants were busy at work, from what the group could see.

Something was off, however. Rows of sharpened wooden spikes were shoved in the ground near the borders of the forest where the terrain dipped downward into the rocky center of the quarry, and the road was blocked by a large wooden barricade.

As Faulkron peered through the gaps in the sloppily built barricade, he could see that behind it stood 4 terrified-looking people. Two dwarves and two humans, armed with crude spears and repurposed pickaxes.

“Hey! Stop there! Wh—“ the dwarf who had spoken up coughed loudly and suddenly, speckles of red blood dribbling into their curly black beard, as the group saw them clutch a bandaged wound on their side.

As the other two steadied the dwarf, the third guard stepped forward, brandishing her spear. “Who are you? Why’ve you come? You’re not with them, are you?”

The five companions shared a few looks as Faulkron raised his hands. “We come in peace. We heard about your problem, we’d like to help.”

“Ha! You think we haven’t heard that one before? I’d bet my best goat—“ the dwarf interjected again.

The other militia woman cut her off. “Indroma, enough. You’re still hurt, you should really see a healer. If they’re here to help they’re here to help. If they’re not... well... we’re fucked, I guess.”

Faulkron looked to the rest of the group and shrugged. He wasn’t sure what was going on but it wasn’t getting them anywhere.

Jetra walked up next to Faulkron, her lyre in hand. “I can help with your wound, Indroma, if you let us through.”

No voice responded.

“As a way to prove we’re not with the bandits?” Jetra continued.

There was a bit of hushed arguing, but the barricade’s door opened regardless.

As they made their way past, Jetra approached the dwarf. Indroma sat down against the wooden fortifications, breathing heavily, still clutching a deep and partially infected sword wound. Jetra kneeled next to her, slowly unwrapping the bloody bandages.

As she placed her hand against the wound, she slowly exhaled, closing her eyes and whispering soft words that lingered in the air, motes of magical energy dancing around the two for a brief moment before disappearing. As Jetra stood back, Indroma’s wound had a fading light around it, and was now just a faint scar.

Indroma stared at Jetra in shock. “I don’t know what to say... thank you.”

Jetra only smiled. “Least I could do. If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get this?”

“Killin’ some of those damn slavers. One of ‘em got me good, but I don’t die that easy. Thanks again for helping me fight another day.”

“My pleasure.”

Jetra stood back up and rejoined the group. Faulkron looked around at the rest of the guards. “Is that enough to prove we’re here to kill the bandits?”

The guards looked at each other for a moment, but they all nodded silently.

“Thank you.”

With that, the five began to traverse the rocky side of the quarry down into the town.

•••

As they walked down the path, Jetra could see the militia members eyeing them warily. She wouldn’t expect any less, but it would draw a lot of attention. She wouldn’t be surprised if these slavers had lookouts on the inside, and she was willing to bet they’d single out their group rather quickly.

“Okay guys, here’s the plan. Keep a low profile and find us a place to rest, I’ll go find my contact and get more information.”

The others nodded, pulling up what hoods they had. They all huddled together and tried to look inconspicuous, making their way through the town once again. As they walked away, Fuego gave a thumbs up and a grin before blending in and disappearing entirely. At least he’d be fine. She was more worried about the 6 foot elf and the shiny sapphire dragonborn.

Jetra looked on and sighed. It wasn’t doing much, but she supposed it would be fine for now. She just needed to meet up with the captain of the guard, her dad’s old friend, Horakes. Then they could go after those slavers and free this town.

She’d been here once before, as a kid. She remembered being fascinated with all the patterns within the rocks, and how she kept asking the rocks what their paintings were about. Her dad had just laughed. Jetra sighed. She missed that smile.

But now, Koretion was far drearier. The people shuffled about, hands worn and ribs showing from hard work and long weeks at the mercy of the bandits who haunted the hills.

Jetra shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for nostalgia. Clearing her head as the sky darkened, she continued on, and before long found a large stone structure near the top of the quarry’s side. On top, a single wooden ballista sat dormant next to stacks of metal bolts. As Jetra approached the building, she was stopped by 2 more militia members.

Before they spoke, she waved them aside. “Don’t bother, boys. I’m here to see Horakes about your slaver problem.”

The militia men looked at each other for a moment in confusion, but she was already past them into the building, pushing open the door.

Inside, she could see various weapons, mostly spears and modified mining tools, but a few more finely made daggers and shortswords were scattered amongst them. There were stairs that led up to the top of the building, where the ballista was, and various cots on which wounded and sleeping militia members and townsfolk lay. Beyond a doorway covered by a ragged curtain, she could see a large table and the boots of an armored warrior, who she could assume was Horakes.

After drawing her eyes away from the wounded people, she pushed aside the curtain into the next chamber. On the table was a map of the area, and leaning over it was a graying dwarf with weathered skin and broad shoulders.

Without looking up, he grunted and called out, “Who is it?”

Jetra only smiled and said, “A friend of a friend.”

Horakes’ brows raised in surprise, and he smiled, turning to her. “Ah, you’re here! It’s been a while, Jetra.”

“That it has, that it has,” she replied, kneeling to hug him.

She gave a quick squeeze, and then Horakes pulled away. “I got your message, your timing was extraordinary.”

“Well, I do my best. I brought some friends, by the way. I think we’re ready to do this.”

Horakes looked her over. “Are you sure? I mean, I hate to remind you, but... this is the woman that killed your father, from everything we know.”

“I understand that, Horakes. That’s the whole point. I’ve been waiting to take this bitch out for years. Like I said, I’m ready,” Jetra said, trying her best not to look terrified. Somehow, hearing Horakes, stern, confident, Horakes, ask if she was ready was scarier than just her suspicions.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, kid. Now, what do you need to know?”

•••

Meanwhile, Faulkron and the others managed to find rooms without drawing too much suspicion. The Bedrock & Breakfast was a small inn & tavern they’d found was near the bottom of the quarry, just off the main road into the town.The barkeep was a smiling dark-skinned human woman, with brightly colored tattoos all the way up her left arm. The stump of her right arm was wrapped in a silvery cloth. When they came in, she greeted them without asking questions, and no one gave them any second glances in the quiet lantern light. Once they had all settled in, they met in the central room to wait for Jetra.

As they all sat, Alejandro’s jaw was tense, and he was drumming his fingers on the table, practically staring holes through the wood. He barely ate what food they had purchased, and didn’t speak except for the occasional phrase.

Fuego, in contrast, was practically buzzing in his seat, and ate everything Alejandro didn’t and then some.

Before the clear clashing of mood could become too awkward, Jetra entered the inn. She quickly made her way over to the table, grabbing her map out of her pack and a cup of wine from the barkeep and setting them on the table.

“Alright, I talked to the captain of the guard, here’s what he knew. First things first, the slavers are a remnant group of the—”

“—Mortal Chains,” Alejandro interrupted.

Everyone paused, and Faulkron raised a curious eyebrow, not recognizing the name. “Who are the Mortal Chains?”

“They’re... a terrible group of slavers and marauders. I’ve had experiences with them before.”

Jetra looked a bit taken aback, but she nodded. “Yeah... yeah. They’re ruthless. They were scattered about a decade ago, but remnants remain, and this is obviously one of them.”

Fuego leaned back, stroking his chin in thought. “Okay, how do we get rid of them?”

“Well, they figure they’re somewhere up in these hills. Based on the scouts who have actually come back, they’re set up somewhere in this area, but since we don’t know the exact location we’ll have to search it all. We can assume they’ve set up defenses, considering how well they’ve hidden themselves. The woman leading this group is cunning and devious, and these people aren’t your average brigands,” Jetra said, a clear venom to her voice as she noted the area on the map.

Shakari looked at the map a moment, then tilted her head, one scaly brow raised with an easy curiosity that was betrayed by the intensity of her eyes. “Jetra, you spoke like you know this woman.”

Jetra looked back at Shakari for what seemed like a moment too long, before looking back to the table, expression guarded. “I know of her. She’s dangerous.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Dymea. She has a reputation for her willingness to use any means necessary for her own ends, regardless of how dishonorable or underhanded it may be. And, seeing as her ends are usually murder and slavery, she’s a pretty nasty deal.”

Shakari nodded in understanding, turning back to the others. “I see. Should we head there, then?”

“No. We wait until morning,” Faulkron interjected. “If we go now we’ll be caught in the storm, and they’ll have the cover of darkness. They’ll want to attack during the night, that’s when they have the advantage. If we attack at the break of dawn, they’ll likely mostly be asleep, and we can surprise them,” Faulkron explained.

Alejandro’s brow furrowed. “And what if they attack between now and then? Why stall and put all of these people in danger?”

Faulkron locked eyes with him. “If we wait, we have the best chance of victory.”

“This is a badly defended frontier town that is entirely on the low ground. Are you sure we have the advantage?” Alejandro pressed, voice low.

“If it eases your mind, Alejandro, let’s just say they didn’t have us before. We shredded those bandits on the road. We can join the militia on watch if you want, but I’m certain we should wait. Bandits don’t really do sieges. Why would they? They’re milking all the resources they need from the town as it is.”

Alejandro sighed and shook his head. “You do not know these people like I do, Faulkron. They haven’t only been stealing objects, remember?”

Clenching his fist, he begrudgingly continued, “But, I will admit, we stand a far better chance together than apart, regardless of when the fighting starts. We wait until dawn, then.”

With that, Alejandro finished his drink, and stood up. “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to get some air and see how I can help the militia until night. I’ll be back by dusk.” Alejandro looked once around the tavern, then walked out.

As Faulkron sat back and grabbed his drink again, Fuego took his leave as well, pulling up his hood and ducking out into the storm-darkened streets.

Shakari followed not long after, stepping out of the inn with a nod.

When they had left, Jetra sat down next to Faulkron with her own drink. They sat in silence for a while, but eventually Jetra took a long drink and grimaced before turning to Faulkron.

“Are you sure about this plan? Alejandro is right, the Mortal Chains are dangerous. And he said he speaks from experience, gods only know what that entails.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Jetra finished her wine. “Very well. Take some time, have a drink. I’m going to go help out in what ways I can, maybe play some music to cheer up the townsfolk, and see to those that need healing.”

“Hey, that magic you did was pretty cool, by the way.”

“Well, magic is amazing. There’s lots of things you can do with a bit of imagination,” she winked, and walked out as well.

He didn’t realize until a little later than he probably should’ve that he’d suddenly sprouted a blue illusory beard.

•••

Fuego found it pretty easy to lay low among the crowds of miners and townsfolk. A benefit he hadn’t expected when he left Zul’Zagan for the mainland was how easy it would be to hide among all the big people.

He had seen earlier a figure watching them from the corner of the inn, and suspected nothing of it. Probably just some person who was real quiet and thought they were weird. Honestly, he would’ve agreed. They were all pretty weird. All these people were very quiet. Except the bard. Fuego loved her, she was great.

However, when Alejandro left, he noticed the suspicious person follow, and decided he should tail them, just in case they were a plant of some sort.

Now, as the rain began to drizzle down from the clouds and the afternoon sun was fully obscured by a curtain of storm, he was sneaking along the rocky walls of the quarry, following the figure as they followed Alejandro.

As he was sneaking along, he leaped across to another stone roof, accidentally sending some loose stones tumbling off. When they splashed into the mud, the stalker stopped walking suddenly, and Fuego froze.

The stalker turned towards the roof, but saw nothing, and continued on.

Flattened as much as he could against the roof, Fuego let out a breath. He kept his focus on the spell, remembering the unnatural fog that constantly surrounded his home, and his magic hid him seamlessly against the backdrop of the roof.

Now invisible, Fuego’s eye was trained on the stalker, and he followed them until they reached the area houses furthest from the mines. The muddy paths here were empty of life, and Fuego felt the onset of an uneasiness, one that had his skin tingling and his hair raising, even hidden as he was.

Before he could begin to back out, however, he realized that he couldn’t see Alejandro anymore, and it appeared neither could the stalker. Fuego started scanning the area, but he couldn’t see any sign of his friend from the roof. He began to wonder if he’d been ambushed, and drew his sword, which steamed and hissed as the rain fell onto the heated blade.

Down below, the stalker began to cautiously walk forward, drawing a pair of curving serrated daggers from within their cloak. Fuego felt a small rush of excitement that he had been right, but quickly refocused.

He watched as they walked forward, and he began to think that they looked far too much like an insect waiting to be crushed for this to be an ambush.

Or at least, for it to be an ambush for Alejandro.

As he began to realize what had happened, he saw the cloaked person suddenly get yanked into a small muddy alley between two stone huts and disappear from view.

Adrenaline kicking in, Fuego leaped over a nearby hut and looked into the alley, sword and magic at the ready. As he looked on, he could see Alejandro with one of his swords at the stalker’s throat.

“Hola, motherfucker. Surprised?” he growled, pressing the blade closer.

The stalker, a tanned elven man with a shaved head, only grinned.

“It seems I underestimated you,” the man hummed.

“It’ll be the last mistake you make.”

As Alejandro finished his sentence, he hissed with pain, as one of the elf’s blades sank into his side. His grip loosened just enough that the stalker was able to knock away the sword and start sprinting back down the alley.

He only got a few steps before Alejandro’s greaves slammed against his shins, and his legs were swept from under him. He went tumbling into the mud, limbs sprawled.

The elf grabbed at his daggers, clumsily swinging towards Alejandro, who parried them away before brandishing his swords and bringing them down towards the man. Even as the stalker tried to roll away, the blades slashed across his back and sent him falling into the mud once again. The mud was soaked through with blood, and the man cried out in pain.

Rolling onto his back, he kicked Alejandro firmly in the chest, knocking him off balance. Scrambling back to his feet, he held his daggers aloft again, breathing heavy.

“You can’t stop us. Our chains have already wound around Koretion. There’s nothing you can do.”

Alejandro laughed through a grimace of pain.“Oh really? I can kill your sorry ass.”

At that, he leaped forward with his swords.

Their blades clashed, and Alejandro spun behind him, holding his blade once more to the man’s throat. He grunted, holding the man still.

“Déjà vu?”

The elf chuckled. “Not for me, it seems. For you. I saw your brand. You-”

Before he could continue, Alejandro slashed his blade across the man’s throat, and he collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood. As Alejandro stood over him, bloodied and breathing hard, the bandit slowly stopped moving, face still contorted in a half smile.

Alejandro stared down at the corpse and spit on it. “You will not steal any more people away from their lives.”

Fuego let the fog fade from his mind and dropped from the roofs into the alleyway. “What was that?”

Alejandro quickly put his blades up again at the sudden noise, but lowered them seeing Fuego.

“Oh. It’s you. It was nothing, just... he was following me. One of the slavers, sneaky bastard,” he said, kicking the corpse over to reveal all the extra daggers and chains beneath the cloak.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call that nothing. A lot happened there.”

“Wait. How much did you see?”

“The whole thing. I was following the guy since the inn, thought he was acting weird.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know him or something?”

“Not personally, until now. Like I said, I have experience with this group.”

There was a bit of a pause. “Now, I don’t know about you, I’d like to get this treated, so let’s go?” Alejandro said, putting a hand over his wound.

“Right, yes, you’ve been stabbed, we should get you to a healer. Good thing we know one...” Fuego quickly agreed, leading the way out of the alley.

•••

Shakari was meditating beneath a large tree, on top of one of the larger hills that surrounded the town. They’d climbed their way up here in the rain, claws slipping and scraping on the wet stone and muddy hillside.

Now, they were meditating. Their breathing was slow, and the rainwater flowed across and between their scales, trails of water weaving like a tapestry across their body.

There they sat for a while, taking in the view and the clean air, letting the water wash away the sense of uneasiness they carried, the weight they felt, even if only for a moment. After a deep breath, they began to speak out into the storm.

“Brothers, though I am not with you, I am not far. May the dry skies give way to rain and bring you peace, life, and plenty, even if only for a day. I miss you all...” She let the sentence trail off, finishing her prayer in her mind. Her tribe was far away, but she still felt the weight of her exile with every breath.

A few more minutes of meditation, and then she came back down the hill, reflection over and her current task at the forefront of her mind.

•••

That evening, they all gathered at the tavern, Alejandro’s wound now just another scar among many, thanks to Jetra. There was another quiet toast to kicking ass, and then they left the central room to get some early sleep.

Faulkron didn’t need the early sleep like his companions, and so for what time he had to himself, he patrolled the streets, hood up as he walked among the shadows.

What Alejandro had said earlier had sat at the back of his mind, simmering just under the surface. He felt a responsibility now, weighing on his shoulders, and that hadn’t gotten any better when Alejandro was stabbed. He was sure he wasn’t responsible, but there was still a small seed of doubt and guilt that had started to sprout in his mind.

So he walked the streets, eyes flicking over every corner and shadow, unable to rest until he could be satisfied that he hadn’t made a grievous mistake.

The pattering of the rain was the only sound, and the light of the moons and stars was obscured by the heavy clouds. It was almost peaceful, in the stillness of the night, but the threat of storm and slavers haunted the darkness like an ever-present ghost.

Part 4 | Part 6