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aboveallarescuer · 4 years ago

Note

#that happens even when the person isnt trying to argue that shes a mad queen/villain but that she has both 'good' and 'evil' in her#and is meant to fail#(e.g. that meta about how dany is a tragic shakespearean hero; which annoys me more bc it sounds convincing when you don't remember what#happened in the books very well...

Can you talk more about your problems with that essay? I thought that it sounded plausible... I don't want those things to happen to Daenerys, but I don't trust GRRM either.

Anon, thank you for this ask and sorry for the delayed answer. I was already planning to write several posts as a response to the arguments of “Daughter of Death: A Song of Ice and Fire’s Shakespearean Tragic Hero” (which you can read here), but I couldn't find the time or motivation for that lately, so thanks for giving me the opportunity to counter-argue it in a single answer. I tried to be brief by summarizing some of my notes and by linking to a lot of metas instead of repeating all of their points, but the response unfortunately ended up becoming long anyway.

In the context of that essay, Dany is considered a Shakespearean tragic hero because the writer thinks she fits five requirements: 1) Dany’s chapters contain supposedly deliberate references to Shakespearean plays; 2) Dany is “torn by an internal struggle”, namely peace versus violence or companionship versus rulership or home versus the Iron Throne, all of which also drive the external conflicts. Choosing the second options will lead to her demise; 3) prophecies and “influential accidents” - that is, events that “have roots in a character’s motivation”, as well as “the sense of ‘if only this had not happened’” - will “heighten and exaggerate [tragic flaws that] already [exist]” in Dany; 4) Dany will (according to the essayist’s speculations) take actions that produce “exceptional calamity” and her demise will be “her own choice and doing”; 5) Dany “[rose] high in position” and is “an exceptional being”, which sets her apart as a character that fits the mold of the Shakespearean tragedy because her reversal of fortune will highlight “the greatness and piteousness of humanity”.

I would argue that the points that the essayist made to justify how Dany supposedly fits these five requirements are all very skewed.

1) When it comes to requirement 1 (Dany’s chapters contain supposedly deliberate references to Shakespearean plays), the essayist is conveniently cherry-picking (as they often do throughout the meta). Bran Stark wants a dreamless sleep just like Dany: “Sweet, dreamless sleep, Bran thought.” (ACOK Bran I); “That night Bran prayed to his father’s gods for dreamless sleep.” (ACOK Bran II). Indeed, @marinabridgerton argues that that’s most likely tied to the fact that they’re the two characters most heavily associated with prophecies. Even Sansa is said to have a dreamless sleep: “Sometimes her sleep was leaden and dreamless, and she woke from it more tired than when she had closed her eyes” (AGOT Sansa VI). And yet, where are the essays about how these quotes are teaching the readership to interpret Bran’s and Sansa’s characters, storylines and trajectories based on Shakespearean tragedies?

2) When it comes to requirement 2 (Dany is “torn by an internal struggle”, namely peace versus violence or companionship versus rulership or home versus the Iron Throne, all of which also drive the external conflicts. Choosing the second options will lead to her demise), the essayist is right to point out that those dilemmas exist. However, they portray Dany’s struggles in a way that makes it seem that 1) there are “good” options (peace/companionship/home) and “bad” options (violence/rulership/Iron Throne) for Dany to take and that 2) choosing the latter ones will lead to Dany’s downfall. There is a lot to question about these assumptions.

2.1) When it comes to Dany’s conflict between peace versus violence, the essayist takes everything that Adam Feldman’s series of essays “Untangling the Meereenese Knot” says for granted when it shouldn’t be. I’m not going to delve into all the problems/inaccuracies/double standards with those essays. For our purposes here, it’s enough to say that they: 1) dichotomize Dany’s identity into mhysa and mother of dragons to argue that the former represents her desire for peace and the latter her violent impulses; 2) assert that the peace was real; 3) conclude that, by rejecting the peace, the Dany of ASOS is gone and from now on she’s going to be a very different person because she will have chosen to follow her violent impulses.

As already argued before, though, 1) Dany’s character can’t be dichotomized in that way because these facets - mhysa and mother of dragons - actually complement each other (as @yendany made clear in her most recent meta). Because Dany was the mother of dragons, she was able to act as mhysa way before she was hailed as such, which we see, for instance, when she kills the Astapori slave masters to free the Unsullied. Both of these identities manifest Dany’s fierceness when faced with great injustices. This is why, in ADWD, locking her dragon children prevented Dany from properly defending her human children… She needs to integrate both parts of her identity to be able to protect them. But Feldman couldn’t recognize that because 2) he accepts the peace deal that Dany made with the slavers as valid. Doing so would mean, however, ignoring the re-enslavement and suffering of thousands of marginalized people, which GRRM continually emphasizes in Dany's and Tyrion’s final ADWD chapters (read more about this here and here) to hammer home that the peace is false for prioritizing the slavers over them. Finally, 3) Dany is not a violent person nor does she have violent impulses. Feldman decontextualized the moments in which Dany uses violence from the standards of her time and place (read more about this here and here and here and here) to portray them in a more negative light than how they are actually meant to be viewed. Additionally, he conveniently left out all the moments in which Dany chooses to be merciful, from when she spares Yunkai and most of the Meereenese slavers (she didn’t do the same in Astapor because she was outnumbered and needed to protect her retinue) to when she doesn’t punish people who threaten or disrespect her to her face (such an envoy who spits at her face, a boy who tries to attack her, Xaro after he says he wishes he’d killed her), to give a few examples (read more about this in @rainhadaenerys's comprehensive meta). I would argue that Dany’s conflict is less about peace versus violence and more accurately about her tendency to be merciful versus her desire for justice (which, especially in the particular context she finds herself in, is unattainable without violence). In fact, I would go further and say that it’s distasteful to characterize Dany as someone “violent” or with “violent impulses” when, so far, she’s only used violence to a) defend and protect victims of (physical and systemic) violence and/or b) in circumstances in which her actions are no more problematic than those of any other leader of her world. And yet, the essayist portrays them as if they were (“To choose indiscriminate destruction over peace tends toward the evil”).

It’s also convenient that the essayist only talks about fire negatively (“Dany wields unmatched power that can “make or unmake at a word”—Dracarys—villages, armies and kingdoms”, “in the words of Maester Aemon, “Fire consumes.””) when it's also connected to life, rebirth, healing and enlightenment. And dracarys in particular is explicitly associated with freedom by the narrative while Dany frees the Unsullied (her decision, in turn, is associated with her future actions in the War for the Dawn). But acknowledging these things would make it harder to portray Dany as a Shakespearean tragic hero.

2.2) When it comes to Dany’s conflict between companionship and rulership … Again, the dilemma exists, but not in the way that the essayist presents it. What I mean is that they go out of their way to make it seem that Dany’s loneliness was the main factor driving her decisions, such as the liberation of the Unsullied (“She feels for the forced loneliness of the Unsullied, and it is loneliness that convinces her to commit violence in the plaza to free the slaves—just as it is in loneliness she chooses violence amidst the Dothraki Sea.”)... And not, y’know, her compassion and sense of justice (“Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”), which are rarely acknowledged in this essay even though it’s arguably the main aspect of Dany's characterization. Why does the essayist do that? Because, since they are arguing that Dany is a tragic hero, they need to present Dany’s loneliness both as the reason why she achieved greatness and as the reason that will lead to her demise when she (supposedly) starts distrusting people, closing herself off and choosing violence (“the moral conviction she feels for her abolitionist crusade is part of the greatness that is also her tragic trait [...] She feels for the forced loneliness of the Unsullied, and it is loneliness that convinces her to commit violence in the plaza to free the slaves—just as it is in loneliness she chooses violence amidst the Dothraki Sea.”). As I said, however, doing so requires downplaying Dany’s compassion, as well as ignoring the fact that she does not close herself off to people in ADWD, nor is there any sign that this was seeded as a serious issue for her in future books (especially considering that her governance is meant to be contrasted with Cersei, the character who actually does close herself off to people. But more on that below when I talk about why Dany doesn’t fit the essayist’s third requirement).

Also, singling out rulership in particular as a reason for Dany to feel alone is conveniently selective (“Returning to Westeros means ruling Westeros - and ruling means loneliness”). All the major characters have reasons to feel lonely and isolated in their society because GRRM chose to focus on the underdogs. Their social standings are already enough to make all of them feel alone. As he said, “Tyrion of course is a dwarf which has its own challenges. Dany is an exile, powerless, penniless, at the mercy of other people, and Jon is a bastard”. You can also throw in Arya for being a young girl struggling to adhere to gender norms and Bran for being a disabled child. And that is just one example… There are a myriad of reasons and situations for various characters to feel lonely and isolated, but the essayist specifically chose to talk about how rulership causes that for Dany. And, considering that the essayist thinks that Dany’s rulership -> growing isolation and loneliness -> her ultimate downfall, it really feels like they’re punishing Dany narratively for acquiring and wielding power. Which leads me to the next point...

2.3) When it comes to Dany’s conflict between home and the Iron Throne, I would argue that that’s not really a conflict. Dany (like any feudal leader) believes she needs to retake the Iron Throne to stay in her homeland just like the Starks believe they need to retake Winterfell to stay in their homeland. Whether Dany finds herself at home in Westeros or not is irrelevant to that fact. And yet, the essayist only presents the former as being in the wrong for fighting for her birthright. However, as it's been already explained before, the Starks’ claim to the North isn’t morally righteous. They only have dominance over the North because, for thousands of years, their ancestors fought against, drove away and killed most of its indigenous population (the Children of the Forest), as well as multiple families who were also vying for control over the region. With that in mind, Dany fighting for her birthright isn’t any more problematic than the Starks enjoying the lands and privileges obtained with conquest and bloodshed, as well as the labor of peasants. One could argue that GRRM may have a double standard against Dany in this case (though it's been argued before that he doesn't intend to present the Iron Throne as a source of greed and evil like how fandom presents it) because of the order of the events and depending on whether he holds Dany accountable for more problems for waging her war than the Starks for having done/doing essentially the same thing, but that’s not what the essayist is doing. Instead, they a) take for granted that Dany is doing the wrong thing for fighting for the Iron Throne ("To delay the call of the North and continue to divide an already weakened realm is to give into dark desires.") and b) center all their speculations about her eventual demise based on that belief.

Ultimately, I would argue that none of these three dilemmas - peace versus violence, companionship versus rulership, home versus the Iron Throne - come with easy answers. When it comes to the first conflict, it’s important that Dany prioritizes the lives of the slaves over the privileges of the masters, but that causes more war and bloodshed. When it comes to the second and the third conflicts, it’s worth noting that the first options (which the essayist presents as the “good” ones) are actually the selfish paths for Dany to take. After all, she would rather live a normal life with a husband (companionship) in the house with the red door (home) - “She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself”. But, as the quote shows, instead of choosing these selfish goals, Dany accepts the burden of rulership and the fight for the Iron Throne because of her duty towards her people and ancestors. And, while this path leads to war (either in Meereen or in Westeros, though the former is morally righteous and the latter, while not inherently justified, is not any more problematic than Robb fighting for Northern independence), power is also the means through which Dany can make changes that benefit the common people.

With all that said, it’s ironic that Dany fans are often accused of flattening her character or her choices when it’s actually her detractors or “neutrals” (like the essayist) who do so - they are dead set on portraying Dany’s available options as either “good” or “bad” and on speculating that choosing the latter ones will lead to her downfall, but the text actually gives her conflicts in which all the options have their pros and cons.

The essayist also makes a mistake that isn’t really up to interpretation or difference in opinions. They say that, in AGOT Daenerys III, “after admitting this difficult truth [that Viserys will never take back the Seven Kingdoms], Dany assumes the goal for herself (and at the time, her son)”. That is incorrect. In AGOT Daenerys V, moments before Viserys’s death, Dany says she would have allowed him to have the dragon eggs because “he is my brother … and my true king”. Jorah doesn’t think she should still acknowledge him as such, but she tells him that “he is all I have”. So no, Dany hadn’t assumed the goal for herself at that point, she only took over his campaign in her son's name (not hers) after Viserys's death. But the essayist needs to exaggerate Dany's ambition to justify her demise, since they speculate that “in that hurt and betrayal, all that will be left - she will think - is the crown”.

3) When it comes to requirement 3 (prophecies and “influential accidents” - that is, events that “have roots in a character’s motivation”, as well as “the sense of ‘if only this had not happened’” - will “heighten and exaggerate [tragic flaws that] already [exist]” in Dany), the problem is not in cherry-picking or in double standards against Dany, but rather in the essayist’s lack of knowledge about Dany’s characterization. It’s simply not true that Dany’s distrust of people grows to the point that she closes herself off to them. Instead, I would argue that Dany is actually portrayed as someone with a healthy distrust of people. We know from the books (1, 2, 3, 4) that she finds it unlikely that Barristan, Grey Worm or Missandei would ever betray her, but that she doesn’t think she can rely entirely upon Reznak, the Green Grace, the Shavepate, Hizdahr and Daario. Do Dany’s doubts about these people’s intentions lead her to, as the essayist says, “push people away”? No. Through almost all of ADWD, she (wrongly, though understandably) believes that "until [freedmen and former masters stand together, Meereen will know no peace". Accordingly, Dany is willing to listen to the counsel of all of her advisors (both the ones she trusts and the ones she distrusts) to ensure that she makes informed decisions. To give some examples:

Dany allows “well spoken and gently born” people (i.e., not the typical condition of most former slaves, who are glad that Dany freed them) to sell themselves into slavery and imposes a tax each time men chose to do so like how it happened in Astapor (ASOS Daenerys VI). By making this decision, she agreed with both Missandei and Daario.

Dany employs the Unsullied to ask the Blue Graces if someone showed up with a sword wound and to ask butchers and herdsmen who’s been gelding goats (ADWD Daenerys I). By making this decision, she disagreed with Barristan.

Dany chooses not to punish any noble in response to the murder of Stalwart Shield and only increases the amount of gold for whoever gives information about the Sons of the Harpy (ADWD Daenerys I). By making this decision, she agreed with Reznak and disagreed with the Shavepate.

Dany gives up on banning the tokar and wears it herself (ADWD Daenerys I). By making this decision, she agreed with the Green Grace.

Dany (rightly) refuses to reopen the fighting pits for a while until she later relents in the name of the peace with the Meereenese nobles (ADWD Daenerys I, II, III, VI). By making this decision, she disagreed with Hizdahr, Reznak, the Green Grace and the Shavepate and agreed with Missandei.

Dany delays the choice of a husband until it becomes necessary later (ADWD Daenerys I). By making this decision, she disagreed with Reznak, the Shavepate and the Green Grace.

Dany chooses to pay the shepherds for the animals that they say their dragons ate (ADWD Daenerys I). By making this decision, she disagreed with Reznak.

Dany pays Hazzea’s father the blood price (i.e., one hundred times the worth of a lamb) for her death, lays her bones to rest in the Temple of the Graces and promises to pay for his children each year so they shall not want (ADWD Daenerys II). By making this decision, she disagreed with the Shavepate.

Dany allows the Shavepate to torture the wineseller and his daughters for information about the Sons (ADWD Daenerys II). By making this decision, she agreed with the Shavepate.

Dany imposes a blood tax on the noble families to pay for a new watch led by the Shavepate, takes the gold and the stores of food of any nobleman who wishes to leave the city and keeps two children from each pyramid as hostages instead of letting the nobles go unpunished after nine freedmen were killed by the Sons (ADWD Daenerys II). By making this decision, she agreed with the Shavepate and disagreed with Reznak.

Dany has Barristan and Groleo and his captains and sailors to inspect Xaro’s ships (ADWD Daenerys III). By making this decision, she agreed with Barristan.

Dany chooses not to go to Westeros despite being offered ships to do so (ADWD Daenerys III). By making this decision, she disagreed with Barristan.

Dany doesn’t kill her child hostages despite the Sons’ ongoing attacks (ADWD Daenerys IV). By making this decision, she agreed with the Green Grace and disagreed with the Shavepate.

Dany agrees to marry Hizdahr if he’s able to give her ninety days of peace in Meereen (ADWD Daenerys IV). By making this decision, she agreed with Hizdahr, the Green Grace and Reznak and disagreed with the Shavepate, Barristan, Missandei and Daario.

Dany refuses to gather the masters and kill them indiscriminately (ADWD Daenerys IV). By making this decision, she disagreed with Daario.

Dany doesn’t allow the Shavepate to continue his tortures due to their unreliable results (ADWD Daenerys V). By making this decision, she agreed with Hizdahr and disagreed with the Shavepate.

Dany refuses to use her dragons in battle (ADWD Daenerys V). By making this decision, she agreed with Reznak.

Dany decides not to take the field against Yunkai (ADWD Daenerys V). By making this decision, she agreed with the Shavepate and disagreed with Barristan.

Dany brings the food to the Astapori refugees instead of sending someone else to do it (ADWD Daenerys VI). By making this decision, she disagreed with Reznak, the Shavepate and Barristan.

Dany burns the dead among the Astapori refugees, bathes an old man and shames her men into helping her (ADWD Daenerys VI). By making this decision, she disagreed with Barristan.

Dany refuses to allow Hizdahr’s mother and sisters to inspect her womb and to wash Hizdahr’s feet before he washes hers (ADWD Daeneerys VI). By making this decision, she disagreed with the Green Grace and Reznak.

Dany decides to marry Hizdahr by Ghiscari rites and to wear a white tokar fringed with pearls (ADWD Daenerys VI). By making this decision, she agreed with the Green Grace and Reznak.

Dany allows Hizdahr to reopen the fighting pits (ADWD Daenerys VI). By making this decision, she agreed with Hizdahr, the Green Grace and Reznak.

Dany goes along with a peace agreement with the Yunkish slavers in which she’ll let Yunkai and Astapor reinstall slavery if they leave Meereen intact (ADWD Daenerys VI). By making this decision, she agreed with Hizdahr.

Dany holds court in order to, among other reasons, meet the Westerosi men that came over from the Windblown (ADWD Daenerys VII). By making this decision, she agreed with Daario.

Dany doesn’t accept Quentyn’s marriage proposal because she doesn’t want to abandon her people (ADWD Daenerys VII). By making this decision, she disagreed with Barristan.

Dany doesn’t ride a horse in a tokar to meet Hizdahr (ADWD Daenerys VII). By making this decision, she agreed with Missandei.

Dany decides not to sound out the Company of the Cats (even though she wanted to) because Barristan says he's untrustworthy (ADWD Daenerys VIII). By making this decision, she agreed with Barristan.

Dany attends the reopening of the pits (ADWD Daenerys IX). By making this decision, she disagreed with Missandei.

Dany allows the Brazen Beasts to guard her because she wants to show that she trusts them so that her people can trust them as well (ADWD Daenerys IX). By making this decision, she disagreed with Barristan.

Dany prevents Tyrion and Penny from fighting against lions with wooden swords. By making this decision, she disagreed with Hizdahr.

I didn’t include all of Dany’s decisions because she makes many of them on her own and/or without someone explicitly supporting them or opposing them (in fact, many of the ones above were made without any advisor giving her their feedback, but I listed them if they’re seen agreeing or disagreeing with her onpage anyway). That being said, note that Reznak is the one that Dany is most suspicious of (because he perfectly fits the description of one of the treasoners), but that five of her decisions follow his recommendations, in contrast to Barristan (the knight who she actually trusts and who keeps all her secrets) only having his advice followed twice. Also note that Dany “trusted Skahaz more than she trusted Hizdahr”, but she agreed with the former three times and disagreed with him eight times, in contrast to having agreed with the latter four times and disagreed with him twice. The list clearly shows that Dany listens to everyone’s feedback (including from people she distrusts), considers it carefully, makes her own decisions and handles dissent extremely well. Her actions reflect her own words (“A queen must listen to all. [...] One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found”, “It seems to me that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone”).

There is, however, one character who is seen only listening to people who agree with her and who distrusts and closes herself off to almost everyone - Cersei Lannister. And it’s especially worth noting that Cersei is meant to be “directly contrasted” with Dany, that the author was “doing point and counterpoint” with them and that each of them is meant to show “a different approach to how a woman would rule in a male dominated, medieval-inspired fantasy world”. In other words, Dany and Cersei are narrative foils, but Cersei’s traits are being transferred to Dany in this essay.

Also, I could just as easily create an entire narrative about how Sansa will end up closing herself off to people based on what we see on canon. She thought she could trust Joffrey, but she ultimately couldn’t. She thought she could trust Cersei, but she ultimately couldn’t. She trusted Sandor, but he left her. She tried to trust the Tyrells, but they ultimately disposed of her after she was no longer necessary. She tried to rely on Dontos, but he was a disappointment and was ultimately murdered. She doesn’t trust Littlefinger, but she needs to stick to his side because she has no better option. She considered telling the Vale lords her identity, but she doesn’t trust them. All of this feeds into Sansa’s distrust of others and will lead to tragic consequences. Indeed, as Sansa herself says, "In life, the monsters win". I bet that the essayist would find this whole speculation biased considering that they favor Sansa's character. But then, why is only Dany singled out as the one who is going to meet her demise even though it’s made clear that she continues to trust people through and through?

The essayist needs to say that Dany starts distrusting people to an unhealthy degree (“As Dany gains more power, [...] her focus on the treasons causes her to push people away, widening the gap between rulership and companionship”; ”The more power she gains, the greater her isolation and likely her fear of betrayal. The fear of betrayal is, of course, human. But GRRM has stated that he likes to turn dramatic situations up to 11, which is necessary to create the Shakespearean tragic hero. Dany’s fear must be larger than life.”), as well as to judge her campaign to take back the Seven Kingdoms based on double standards (“Dany’s great sin within the story’s moral order will have been focusing on the war for Westeros against Aegon VI before she turns to the enemy of the North”) compared to the Starks. If they didn’t do so, there wouldn’t be a reason to justify Dany’s demise. If they didn’t do so, the entire speculation that she’s a Shakespearean tragic hero falls apart. But saying that something is true doesn’t necessarily make it true, you need to provide the textual evidence (which they barely do … They assume that the reader will take almost everything they say for granted. After all, since there’s a prophecy foretelling that Dany will be betrayed three times, of course she’s going to distrust people way too much from now on).

There’s also another aspect of Dany’s relationship with prophecies that the essayist portrays inaccurately. They say that “the effect of this prophecy on Daenerys is multifaceted” for “[promising] greatness” (which, along with the also inaccurate statement that “part of Dany’s pursuit of the Iron Throne is born from a sense of destiny”, implies that Dany wants to be great or that she thinks of herself as great, none of which are true) and pushing her “further from the people who surround her”. I already questioned the latter statement, and the former is inaccurate too. After all, Dany has doubts that there are men in Westeros waiting for the Targaryens to return. The birth of the dragons has to do with the fact that Dany was able to put two and two together with clues from dragon dreams and Mirri's words, not because she thinks she's exceptional. Dany is not really sure that the red comet was meant for her. She followed its direction because the other paths weren't reliable and, even in Qarth, she's unsure that it was meant to guide her to success. Then she never thinks about it again. I'd expect otherwise from someone who thinks they're exceptional. Dany is surprised when told by Quaithe that she's the reason why magic is increasing in the world and never thinks or brags about it after their interaction. I'd expect otherwise from someone who thinks they're exceptional. Dany doesn't think she won any victories in the House of the Undying, she credits Drogon for burning the Undying Ones. She only allows Jhiqui to add a bell to the end of her braid because "the Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair". Dany refuses to sit on the throne inside the Great Pyramid's audience chamber and chooses to sit on a simple ebony bench that the Meereenese think does "not befit a queen". Dany refuses the offer to have a statue in her image to replace the bronze harpy in the Plaza of Purification. I'd expect otherwise from someone who thinks they're exceptional. Dany is highly self-critical and, later in ADWD, thinks that she "was as clean as she was ever going to be" after taking a bath because she holds herself accountable for the upcoming slaughter in the opening of the fighting pits. I'd expect different from someone that thinks they're exceptional. Dany doesn’t think that the people who came to the reopening of the pits wanted to see her - “it was my floppy ears they cheered, not me”. I'd expect different from someone that thinks they're exceptional. Most of Dany's titles (the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Mhysa, Azor Ahai, etc) are given to her by other people, they're not self-proclaimed (not that there's a problem if they were, I'm only saying it to reiterate that Dany doesn't think she's exceptional). The ones that she assumes on her own are the ones that anyone who believes in birthright (i.e., everyone in her time and place, regardless of family, regardless of whether they're Targaryens) would assume.

4) When it comes to requirement 4 (Dany will (according to the essayist’s speculations) take actions that produce “exceptional calamity” and her demise will be “her own choice and doing”) … Well, we now enter the realm of speculation. It’s not impossible that Dany “will feel like a villain to the Westerosi, as she burns their villages and crops ahead of a hard winter” in the future. The problem here, once again, is in the double standards. Look at the way the essayist describes the likely reascendance of the Starks in the upcoming books - “With the death of “good” characters like Ned, the injury of innocents and moments such as the Red Wedding, ASOIAF as a story is not concerned with justice. But as the story progresses, we see that the way Ned ruled his people and raised his children contrasts with characters like Tywin and his methods. Much of the North seems to continue to rally behind the idea of the Starks, some with less “honorable” methods than others, while Tywin’s legacy begins to fall apart. Like in Shakespeare’s tragic world, there appears to be an order that arcs towards a higher idea of goodness that instills a dramatic satisfaction”. Like I said above when I questioned requirement 2, the Starks’ claim to the North is no more justified than Dany’s to the Seven Kingdoms. They have the advantage of having had their rule normalized throughout the thousands of years they ruled the North, but it doesn’t change the fact that, because they’re feudal lords, they still maintain a system rigged in favor of the nobles that promotes social inequality and extreme lack of social mobility. It doesn’t change the fact that there's no righteous form of feudalism. But only Dany is criticized in that sense by the essayist - “By nature, power breeds inequality, when one party has the ability to decide the fate of another. That inequality creates distance. As a queen Dany wields absolute power over the rest of her subjects and her court”. Which is pretty infuriating not only because the Starks are also morally grey in the sense that the essayist describes, but also because GRRM specifically mentioned that Daenerys is the ruler "who wants equality for everyone, she wants to be at the same level as her people". Additionally, if Ned left a legacy that motivated his people to fight against his enemies, so did Dany with the former slaves. But the essayist needs to ignore all of that to paint Dany as a Shakespearean tragic hero.

Even if we don’t take into account what TWOIAF reveals about the Starks’ ancestors, the main story itself often paints House Stark’s actions in a negative light. We see a peasant spitting at the mention of the Starks and saying that things were better with King Aerys II in power. We're told that Northmen looking for Jaime on Edmure’s orders burned a village called Sallydance and were guilty of rape and murder. It’s no wonder that the High Sparrow mentions the wolves along with the lions as threats to the septas. Also, thousands of soldiers died indirectly because of Robb’s decisions, as well as lots of people who remained north and became vulnerable to raping and pillaging due to his inability to hold Winterfell. And finally, when winter comes, the smallfolk will be affected by the actions of the northmen, who (like Dany might do in the future) already helped to disrupt the harvest and to leave the continent short on food. And yet, why is their future success framed as “an order that arcs towards a higher idea of goodness”? Why is Dany the only one who is said to be “giv[ing] into dark desires” by “divid[ing] an already weakened realm” when the Starks (framed as the heroes in the essay) did the same thing? This double standard gets infuriating when one remembers that Dany is the one fighting a war in the name of the disenfranchised (even though she is not connected to them by blood or lands or oath of fealty and doesn’t gain anything by helping them), while the Starks are (and will be, if they want to retake Winterfell) fighting a war because of personal injury (which, sympathetic as it may be, doesn’t justify the damage that they caused to the smallfolk). It gets even more infuriating when, as @rakharo pointed out to me, one remembers that, while Dany is trying to right the wrongs of the Valyrians by ending slavery in Slaver’s Bay, none of the Starks have acknowledged, much less tried to make amends for injustices perpetrated by the First Men against the Children of the Forest. It gets even more infuriating when one remembers that Aegon the Conqueror united Westeros in preparation for the War for the Dawn (something that GRRM himself confirmed), while the Starks’ ancestors conquered the North solely because of their greed. That's why Dany’s story can’t be effective as a tragedy: she’d be punished for starting to do what everyone else was doing after doing more than almost everyone else was doing.

5) When it comes to requirement 5 (Dany “[rose] high in position” and is “an exceptional being”, which sets her apart as a character that fits the mold of the Shakespearean tragedy because her reversal of fortune will highlight “the greatness and piteousness of humanity”), again, we’re in the realm of speculation. But there are some things to question as well. First, the essayist validates the criticisms that Dany “too easily ascends to a position of power” by using them as proof that she’s a tragic character. But that’s not really true, which becomes clear with a few comparisons: the Starks lost their father, mother and older brother throughout the story because of the Lannisters, which Dany also did; but her losses go beyond them: she also lost another brother, her first husband and her first child. The Starks had their direwolves given to them, Dany had to use her intuition and then literally walk into a fire to birth her dragons. Aegon the Conqueror used dragons to take Westeros, Dany conquered three cities without barely using hers. Jon Snow’s conflict in ADWD involves conciliating the Free Folk and the Night’s Watch after he makes decisions favoring the former group, while Dany’s involves conciliating the freedmen and the slavers after she makes decisions favoring the former group, which has a worldwide impact; Jon’s conflict has relatively low stakes (because it hasn’t involved the Others so far), Dany’s conflict leads to “half the world” wanting her dead. As these examples show, Dany suffered more losses than the Starks. Dany had to do a lot more than the Starks to find her animal companions. Dany became a conqueror primarily because of her military strategies and resourcefulness without relying on dragonfire like her ancestor. Dany faced greater opposition than her male counterpart Jon so far. As we can see, gaining power and retaining it has not been easy for Dany at all. Every single one of her accomplishments has been earned. But it sure is interesting that Dany’s supposed future tragedies must stem from her actions, but that her victories aren’t given the proper credit and acknowledged as being a result of what she also did as well.

And then the essayist declares something even more inaccurate: that Dany “overcame each obstacle that came her way” and that “Robb and Jon paid for their mistakes while Dany did not” (which, to the essayist, is evidence that “Dany’s fall is meant to stand in contrast as something grander than just one slip-up”).

First of all, Dany clearly did not overcome every obstacle that came her way. Saying so means ignoring all of her ADWD storyline (and it’s funny how Dany's detractors go from saying that she’s overpowered and hasn’t suffered consequences to accusing her of being a bad ruler precisely because she dealt with the negative consequences of her choices, lol). To recap, Dany had an indirect part in the wars outside Meereen because she left the Yunkish slavers’ wealth intact, which leads to terrible consequences - multiple city-states and sellsword companies joining forces against her, Astapor’s fall, the pale mare’s outbreak, the emergence of refugees from Astapor outside her city and the upcoming Battle of Fire. Dany had an indirect role in the wars inside Meereen because she left most of the Meereenese slavers alive with most of their wealth intact, which leads to terrible consequences - the Sons of the Harpy’s attacks and dozens of freedmen’s deaths. Additionally, Dany had an indirect role in Hazzea’s death because Drogon was allowed to roam freely and she had no way to train him or her brothers. All these problems culminate in Dany agreeing with a peace deal that, as already explained here, was inherently unjust for prioritizing the slavers over the freedmen. Dany had to learn that, as much as she wants peace and to plant trees, there are situations in which she can’t be merciful because violence really is the only way to achieve justice for the disenfranchised. (On the flip side, that’s one of the reasons why I’m critical of the theory that Dany accidentally burns King’s Landing. When she was merciful, as I just listed, great tragedies occurred (which is fine, it was a realistic exploration of what happens when you abolish slavery and try to do good). When she used fire and blood, great tragedies will occur too? Even though she would be acting just like the Starks or any other feudal lord by fighting for her birthright? The theory narratively punishes Dany in a way that it doesn't do with the Starks, which is why it's no wonder that it was created by someone with Stark/Stannis biases. Additionally, it validates the common belief that Dany is only meant to be a wartime queen, even though she’s already showed that she’s a good peacetime ruler.)

Second, is dying the only way to pay for one’s mistakes (considering that only Robb and Jon are listed as examples of characters who did)? I don’t think so. Consider Sansa. Didn’t she pay for the mistake of going to Cersei to tell her of Ned’s plan? I would say she did. I would say the author agrees - “Sansa was the least sympathetic of the Starks in the first book; she has become more sympathetic, partly because she comes to accept responsibility for her part in her father's death”. Similarly, Dany had to accept her indirect responsibility for the tragedies that I just listed (Hazzea, forgive me; No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry.; “I should’ve gone to Astapor. [...] I am the queen. It was my place to know.”; “What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children?”). I would argue that Dany and Sansa both paid for her mistakes, which were acknowledged, made them suffer and influenced their character developments. But the essayist needs to say that Dany didn’t pay for them (or that she had an easy rise to power) to help to paint her as a Shakespearean tragic hero.

6) Now that the essayist’s five requirements have all been questioned, I would also like to mention positive prophecies and speculations related to Dany that are never brought up in this essay.

First, Dany is AA/PTWP/SWMTW. That was heavily foreshadowed (read more about it here) and built up to and, if it doesn’t happen, it frankly would be bad writing. After all, haven’t readers praised GRRM for the foreshadowing of Ned’s death (e.g., a stag having killed the mother direwolf in the beginning of AGOT)? Haven’t readers praised GRRM for the foreshadowing of the Red Wedding (which we see from Tyrion’s to Theon’s to Dany’s chapters)? And yet, the essayist thinks that Dany’s death will cause “the forces [to] become more even, making victory less sure, or the Others surpass the side of the living in strength” and that “the White Walkers gain Drogon, becoming one-on-one but with the White Walkers having the larger dragon.”

Second, Dany and Bran both have dreams in AGOT leading up to their magical awakening. Bran needs to fly to escape from the “cold” of the darkness below, while Dany needs to run from the “icy breath behind”. Both of these dreams culminate with Bran and Dany learning to fly and accepting their magical destinies, which will be important in the War for the Dawn. And yet, the essayist thinks that “by understanding that the concept of warmth is tied to companionship, we can understand that the cold, “icy breath” must represent the opposite: loneliness” to justify Dany’s demise. Instead, it's clear (especially considering the parallels with Bran) that "icy breath" is an allusion to the Others. But they can't acknowledge that Dany will have a crucial role in the War for the Dawn, otherwise their entire speculation falls apart.

Third, Quaithe was presented as the third of the three Qartheen envoys (after Pyat Pree and Xaro) that came to find Dany in Vaes Tolorro, which heavily implies that she breaks the norm and is the one person that Dany can trust. And yet, the essayist takes for granted that Quaithe’s “narrative connection to betrayal is already established”.

Fourth, Dany might as well be the prophesied betrayer, not the one who’s betrayed by three people (after all, she’s already been betrayed by more than three people - Jorah, Mirri, Pyat Pree, Xaro, Brown Ben, the person that gave her the poisoned locusts, etc). It would fit with the pattern of Dany being an active participant in the prophecies rather than a passive one (e.g. Dany is AA/PTWP, not the one who gives birth to the AA/PTWP or the one who dies as a sacrifice to AA/PTWP) even though, at first, the readership is expected to think otherwise. And yet, the essayist takes for granted that Dany will be betrayed because otherwise their entire speculation falls apart.

Fifth, Dany is foreshadowed to have a positive relationship with Jon because “the blue flower” from the “wall of ice” filled the air with “sweetness”. And yet, the essayist needs to say that Dany "[will push] Jon away [...] from fear of betrayal and hurt” and from worries that he might be a “usurper” (nevermind that they are mischaracterizing Dany as someone overfocused on retaking the Iron Throne and who closes herself off due to prophecies, none of which are not true, as I already showed above) because otherwise their entire speculation falls apart.

7) Finally, I would also like to ask: what’s the point of giving Dany a storyline like this? Not only because it would be unearned due to the double standards and the changes that would have to occur in her characterization, but also because Dany has a special place in the narrative. She is 1) one of the two women (along with Asha) claiming power in her own right and the only one that we actually got to see rule, 2) one of three Chosen Ones (along with Bran and Jon) and the only female one, 3) one of two POV revolutionaries (along with Jon) and the only female one (and the one whose storyline arguably has the most political messages since she’s fighting against human slavery), 4) one of two POV female rulers (along with Cersei) and the only one who’s been depicted as competent (because she subverts the Good Princess Evil Queen dichotomy), 5) one of two Targaryen conquerors (three, if Young Griff does indeed take Westeros) and the only female one - “Aegon the Conqueror with teats”, 6) the only major mother who isn’t sure to be doomed and/or hasn’t gone mad, 7) one of two Targaryen queens regnant (along with Rhaenyra) and the only remaining Targaryen woman who gets to have power after a long line of Targaryen women - Rhaenyra herself, but also Rhaena, Aerea, Rhaella, Daenerys (Alysanne’s daughter), Rhaenys the Queen Who Never Was, Baela, Rhaena of Pentos, Daena - who were disempowered. GRRM already has a terrible history with female leaders in particular. If he causes the downfall of another one (especially one who is also one of the five main protagonists) for such unearned reasons like the ones that the essayist laid out, there would also be sexist implications. It would make the only she-king that we saw wielding power onpage overly defined by violence and destruction in a way kings don't have to be depending on their actions, it makes the only competent POV female ruler look incompetent in comparison to the other POV male rulers and it makes her conquest a disaster while the other male Targaryen conqueror (two, if Young Griff takes Westeros) gets to succeed. And yet, death by childbirth is the only speculation that the essayist calls out as problematic (“death by childbirth is a uniquely biologically female phenomenon and would be punishing Daenerys for her sexuality”).

8) What I find insidious about essays like this one is that they pretend to be unbiased (I do not argue for the death of Daenerys as a judgement on her ethical/moral goodness as a character nor of the world she inhabits. I argue it on the strength of her characterization and story, that she should be able to encompass such intensity and greatness as to be considered as complex as all these other single-name headliners in literature.) even though they really aren't. To recap, the essayist portrays Dany as someone with "violent" impulses even though she's a merciful person in general, accepts the peace deal with the slavers as valid even though it prioritizes the slavers' privileges over the lives of marginalized people, only talks about the negative connotations of fire, downplays Dany's compassion and sense of justice, argues that Dany is losing her ability to trust others even though she isn't, says that Dany is negatively affected by promises of greatness even though she isn't, argues that Dany had an easy rise to power and didn't pay for her mistakes even though she did, paints Dany's campaign to take the Iron Throne in a negative light without doing the same with the Starks having dominance over the North and ignores Dany's foreshadowing as AA/PTWP, as well as her special place in the narrative. So it’s not that Dany stans are unable to accept Dany’s mistakes and flaws, it’s that people who dislike her can’t understand her characterization or acknowledge the double standards against her or accept her particular place in the story. At the end of the day, an essay like this one is no better than jonsa metas mindlessly hating on Dany because, just like them, as @semperty and @niniane17 made clear, it also creates speculations with the intent of making Dany self-destruct and become irrelevant to pave the way for their preferred characters. The only difference is that it's more successful at appearing "neutral" to someone who doesn't remember what happened in the books very well, especially because Dany has become a polarizing character for a variety of reasons and it's easy to buy into the Appeal to Moderation fallacy.

Also, as I said before, the fact that these Twitter 'neutrals' all misunderstand Dany's characterization, downplay her struggles and judge her by different standards actually makes me somewhat hopeful that she's getting a better ending, because how can their speculations come true if they don't know Dany at all? But then, it's hard to trust GRRM.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #answered

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tg-headcanons · 3 years ago

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You ever think about that whole argument (from the narrator/Ishida) that humans are just like ghouls because they eat animals to survive? So, so flawed. A LOT of people are vegetarian or vegan these days. It would have been better to make the argument that any animal's survival is dependent on the death of others, whether those 'others' are slaughtered or not. Circle of life and all that.

THANK YOU FOR SAYING THIS

This is one of the ways in which tokyo ghoul gets close to a nuanced philosophy, but instead falls short into a tired old cliche. It’s just inches away from getting the point, but is held back by a major issue with Ishida’s writing style: Full focus on individual responsibility

We see it with how he portrays Kaneki alone with very little focus on countless other people who contributed as the catalyst for Change. We see it with how he portrays a handful of CCG members and Ghouls as “the bad ones who are making it worse for everyone else” rather than predictable products of their world’s system. And we see it with how he frames the world in a philosophical sense. There’s far too much focus on single people and simple goals. What will Kaneki do to save the world? What will Touka do to protect kaneki? What will Hinami do to decide if she’s a good person or not? It fails to take into account the sheer immensity of outside forces. It shouldn’t be “will X character choose to do Y?” it should be “how does Z effect X character’s ability or reason to do Y?”

Think about how Hinami had to kill Kureo because otherwise she and Touka would die horrifically. Was that even a choice? Could anyone blame her for fighting for her life when it was the only way to live? Or how Nishiki ate a piece of Kimi. Was he ever in a position to turn her offer of herself down? Was there any other way for him to survive then? Or how countless ghouls hunt down innocent people to eat. How else are they supposed to get food for themselves and their families? What other way can they survive starvation when every other Avenue is purposely blocked?

But I’m every single case, the situation these characters are in are set aside in favor of framing it as decisions they made with no other factors than their own desires

Now let’s compare that to how humans interact with meat. We’ve evolved for it, we sweat, see, and even support complex brains because we eat meat. Whether we like it or not we are predators, and that has been the case since the first hominids took down prey with sticks and rocks. We’ve been doing this for ages and it’s ingrained in our biology, cultures, and day to day life. Of course throughout history people have chosen not to. Whether it be for religious reasons, not liking it, or just being uncomfortable with the thought of eating animals some people have always been vegetarian, but in recent years there’s been way more. Sometimes it’s about diets, but other times people claim that to eat meat is unethical. “How could you eat a poor animal? How can you support factory farms? That’s disgusting I’m gonna email you a link to a poorly researched paper focused solely on Eurocentric ideas of consumption and terrible comparisons to actual human suffering that will guilt you into veganism”

The thing is, eating meat isn’t inherently evil. Not to sound like a cannibal or anything but I don’t think there’s anything morally wrong with eating both humans and animals given that it’s done respectfully. The problem comes when we focus on what farming is like now, that animals are mistreated, that farm workers are mistreated, that it can harm the environment, but does that make people who eat meat evil? Are they supporting this when they get dinner?

No, of course not, and to understand why we need to look at the reasons. First and foremost, it’s just good for a lot of people. Many people can’t survive on vegan/vegetarian diets, many people struggle with food and animal products are what they can eat, and often animal products are the easiest and most affordable food out there. Even in urban areas it’s hard to find food without animal products that are affordable in the long term for everyone, and that’s in the best case scenario. Look at places like Alaska, food most take for granted costs so much that no one can reasonably live only off that, and people there have lived off of animals they’ve caught for millennia before diet crazes existed. And yes, there are so many ways in which the methods of farming are unethical and harmful and those should absolutely be called out, but the responsibility lies with those profiting from it. How much evil is someone tight on cash trying to make it last until their next paycheck doing by taking their family to McDonald’s rather than getting food so much less filling for the same amount of money or more?

There’s so much complication added by factoring in society and capitalism and colonization’s effect on the local environment and what kind of life our meat animals live, but in the end, predation is natural. Animals eat animals, and humans who have benefited so much from our rise on the food change as early hominids are the only ones who take issue with it. Some people believe it really is evil and unnatural to eat animals, and they are free to believe that for themselves, but it speaks volumes about their own privilege when they turn that judgement on the people just trying to eat enough to survive. It isn’t a massive personal stake, it’s trying to survive in a world that has so many roadblocks to something as simple as a full meal

So compare that to ghouls. They steal bodies and hunt and kill because they have to. The rich may be able to outsource the carnage and keep the blood off their hands so they seem ethical, but they contribute to the deaths of humans the same way people touting that the animal farming industry is killing the world will buy animal product substitutes that harm people and the ecosystem just as much. After all, is the agave syrup that some company tore up a shitload of land in a more exploitable country to farm any less harmful because you can pretend that no people or animals were hurt? They can feel bloodless, but that doesn’t make what they do more ethical. It just lets them feel like it

As for the poor ghouls? They have to hunt. They get to play the part of ravenous monster because they don’t have the time or money to have someone else get bodies for them. Even anteiku ghouls have a little privilege by finding bodies that are already dead. Not every ghoul has a car to pick up corpses, or bodies that can walk that distance, or the knowledge to find good spots. Most hunt since the people that have died naturally are locked away because humans think of themselves as too evolved to take part in the circle of life, and would rather ghouls keep killing than let their loved ones be eaten like most animals are

In the end you’re completely right. Any animal’s survival is dependent on the deaths of others. All we as people can control is how kindly that is done. Humans with the means to can choose not to eat meat, but humans who don’t and ghouls can’t, and that does not make them evil. If humans in the TG world were willing to give the dead to the ghouls, it’s entirely possible that they wouldn’t need to hunt anymore. Meat will always be necessary, but the way they get it can be better, and that change relies solely on the system preventing them from having ethically sourced food. The fault does not lie with the individuals who need to eat

Ishida fell just short of the point in favor of the boring and nihilistic “oOoOh HuMaNs ArE tHe REAL mOnStErS” thing because it’s edgy and easy, but not correct. There’s nothing evil about having a biological need to eat meat, there’s nothing evil even for humans who don’t need to to eat meat, it’s just the circle of life. Nature is gruesome sometimes, but claiming that people are inherently evil is just edgelord bullshit. We can make the ways we get meat better if the people profiting off of it are held accountable, and ghouls can too if the people profiting off of their slaughter are held accountable.

Humans and ghouls are alike. Neither are bad for feeding themselves, and both can benefit a whole lot by not fighting over who is worse and instead demanding that the people in charge of their world make it better

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul headcanon #tokyo ghoul meta #tokyo ghoul criticism #mention of animal mistreatment

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hollowfaith · 5 months ago

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「✧」 “You must be more stressed than you let on,” Aurelius observes while watching Vash speak. “I don’t have many clients, so my schedule’s highly flexible.”

“For example, I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.”

He gestures to an empty seat across from him, openly inviting the Plant to sit. “At any rate, the complimentary session won’t take longer than 30 minutes, so it shouldn’t inconvenience either of us.”

Was it similar personalities or just ingrained traits that spurred both Vashes to seek his help? The possibility that this Vash could think poorly of him never crosses the angel’s mind—after all, he’d hardly done anything against his conscience. And from what he’s learned himself so far, this perfectly aligned with accepted human principles.

“You shouldn’t feel surprised. Familiarity between family and friends is precisely the stumbling block that prevents many from admitting their own insecurities. There is much more at stake to lose, you see—or change, irrational as that fear may be. Therefore, it’s common for people to unburden themselves to strangers instead.”

Unfolding his arms, he beckons for Vash’s hand. “Think of me as your personal safe. Whatever you wish to lock up with me is your choice, but I can give you the key to retrieve it anytime.”

“Today, I am simply here to help you relax.”

★ --;; With each word out of Aurelius' mouth Vash's perturbation only grows, unseen hackles raising at the implications of things admitted so casually by the other. As though having that sort of access to somebody unaware of it all somehow registered as okay; not even okay, but interesting. It makes it taste like bile in the back of his throat.

To his credit, his fists stay unclenched at his sides, shifting his weight as though it were entirely natural, without that awful feeling gnawing away inside his chest. "We're both pretty private," says, "which just made me surprised that he'd go and talk about it at all, y'see." And on top of that, he's not even sure how much the younger Stampede had said-- what he had said. It had taken months of prodding and pulling to tell his older reflection anything at all, and only then it had come at the expense of Archimedes.

Not to mention everything else, the laundry list that constructed their lives outside of the catastrophic. They both sat on houses built of cards, lies and half-truths and omissions their fibers, and very few were as savvy to it as they were about themselves. Letting one or two drop almost always feels like the entire structure crumbling, inevitably to be rebuilt again in some form or fashion.

But as much as it sends sirens blaring in the back of his mind, the offer is there. To see for himself exactly what had happened, to know. The admission of his successor not knowing what had happened during the session makes this Stampede's skin crawl; too many moments of being out of control, of not remembering, of not holding the keys to his own body sit under his belt.

" ... D'you think so?" he finally asks. Schooling his face is old hat to Vash, but the discomfort still sits angrily beneath his carefully constructed mask. "What does your schedule look like? This was my last stop a' the day, but I get not wantin' to work when you dont have to."

#amoirsetpacis #amoirsetpacis 𓆩⟡𓆪 02

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faulty-writes · 3 years ago

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[ So I felt like I needed to do another Taishiro piece. So this is partly inspired by the songs Chocolate and Be Kind To Yourself. I hope you enjoy it!]

[ Not quite a hero and yet not quite a villain. You have gone by the proud title of 'Vigilante' for years now and for years Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as 'Fat Gum' has been chasing after you and...protecting you? Huh, that's weird. But it looks like he's going above and beyond this time and he may have broken his word for your sake. Either way, you find yourself listening to what he has to say. ]

Pants filled the air as you continued to run down the now wet streets of Tokyo, pushing down innocent bystanders that stood in your way while the sky above you continued to rumble causing the already present rain to fall harder, hitting the ground in large bursts.

You could still hear the loud stomps behind you as members of the police force continued their chase to try and apprehend you. The bag of stolen goods was still clenched tightly in your hand and you used your free hand to catch yourself when you slipped on the wet pavement.

Luckily you decided to take a small detour through a back alley and climbed up a fire escape before you proceeded to jump onto several rooftops in an attempt to make it to a safer location. Once you heard the noise of the police force fade away, which was oddly fast in your opinion.

You slowly made your way down another fire escape and slumped against the brick wall of another alleyway. The rain continued to pour down and you glanced up, the sky was dark and there was no hint of sunlight. You pressed your hand to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Hm?” That's when you noticed the faint cut across the back of your hand. But, that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering you had minor cuts and scrapes across the length of your body. Not to mention the fact that your clothes were currently stuck to the surface of your skin.

“Pff,” you reached up, pushing your bangs out of your face and allowing them to stick to the top of your head. Then you paused, making sure it was still quiet. Though it was a tad hard to hear any outside noise due to the pounding rain.

“Well…” you shrugged and stepped away from the wall, assuming that all was safe. “Let me see what I got…” you wrestled with the bag for a moment before finally managing to open it. But just as you were about to peer inside to see all the goodies you had gathered.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind you which prompted you to close the bag and turn quickly on your feet. You expected to see more members of the police force and kept the bag hidden behind your back.

But as soon as you laid your eyes on the rather large individual that stood before you, your defensive stance relaxed. “You know I’d like to see what you got in that sack too,” you narrowed your eyes and took a step back. “Fat Gum,” you stated as you continued to back away with your eyes locked on him.

Taishiro Toyomitsu or “Fat Gum” as you knew him as was someone you had run into a couple of times before and while you were well aware he was a hero and he was well aware you were a vigilante with slight villainous tendencies.

He had a bad habit of wanting to protect you and trying to convince you to fight for the side of justice, but that wasn’t at all something you were willing to do...again. Thus the game of cat and mouse continued. Your thoughts broke when he chuckled and began to casually walk towards you.

“That’s the name, glad you still remember,” he spoke in a teasing tone but you weren't amused and tightened your grip on the bag. You refused to back down to anyone, so you straightened your posture while casting a glare at the oversized hero.

But as he got closer you noticed that his clothes seemed dry or rather that the rain slid off of the fabric as opposed to absorbing into it. However, you noticed those small strands of blond hair sticking out from under his hood and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like you’re a bit wet there, not to mention those injuries of yours,” Taishiro said as he continued to loom over you, that large smile of his fading as he once again began to show the same concern for you he always did. But, you rolled your eyes.

��Here we go again, the hero complex,’ you thought but didn’t exactly notice the frown that was playing across your lips until Taishiro pointed it out. “I’d rather not see you frown if it’s all the same to you,” he said, his voice deepening and you recognized there was some pitiful tone to it which caused you to growl.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” you snapped as you pointed your finger at him, once more your bangs seemed to come back to stick to your forehead and impair your vision. Your knuckles were slowly turning white as your grip on the bag tightened.

You didn’t register the fact you were no longer hiding the item behind your back. “Hm,” Taishiro reached up, scratching the side of his head with one of his abnormally large fingers. “That might be a problem,” he confessed, but his tone was light and you knew this was yet again something that normally happened between you two.

You’d do something, Taishiro would find you and proceed to give you a speech about how good you were in hopes you’d change your ways. The fact that he felt the need to protect you was...well, you felt a mix of emotions when it came to that.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that sack, please” you flinched, looking at him with a bewildered expression which wasn’t so surprising considering you wouldn’t just hand it over. Taishiro frowned and took a step closer before he leaned over and brought his arms up, almost like he was expecting you to hop away.

“Come on, I would never hurtcha knowing you’re already injured,” he said, the fact that his tone was filled with concern only made you angrier. “I am not giving you my bag!” you hissed before taking a step back. Even as Taishiro continued to loom over you, both of you seemed to know what you were about to do.

“Don’t,” he ordered, which was almost amusing considering his voice didn’t hold any sense of authority. You pushed your foot against the slippery ground and made a foolish dash towards the entrance of the alleyway. Of course, you should have expected the way to be blocked.

Actually, you should have expected Taishiro to have made a secure plan that would prevent you from leaving the alleyway until he got what he wanted from you. Just as you were about to reach the entrance, something bright flashed through the rain.

“Look out for the gun!” Taishiro’s voice broke through the sound of the rain and the scent of sulfur filled the air. “Ah!” you stumbled when you felt a blast of heat near your foot where the impact of a bullet made a hole in the concrete. However, instead of falling to the ground.

You felt someone grab onto your wrist and pull you against a squishy surface. “Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, already knowing who had a hold on you which meant escaping was going to be tricky. Especially with the police who were not only sealing off your escape routes but appeared to be trigger happy.

Yup, you were effectively trapped. The very opposite thing you wanted. “Let go!” you demanded as you stepped forward and attempted to pull your wrist out of the hero’s grip, but he kept a firm hold on you. Even with the rain, it seemed you couldn’t easily slip away.

“Sorry about this,” he reached over, and despite you still desperately holding your bag of stolen goods to your chest, he so easily ripped it away from you. “Hey!” you snapped as you tried to reach for it, but considering how tall Taishiro was. It was an almost impossible task, even when you stretched your arm to its limit.

“I got it!” he declared as he held the bag up for the police force members to see. “You boys can relax now,” he said and sure enough you watched as that police line up broke apart and started walking towards you. Another growl escaped and your free hand curled into a fist.

“Give it back!” you demanded, once more stretching your arm out and jumping to try and take it. The display was a little pathetic, you could admit. Jumping up and down to get something you wanted when someone else was holding it just out of your reach. Another cry left you when your foot slipped and your body fell to the ground.

A hiss followed when you felt the skin of your elbow tear against the rough texture of the pavement, despite the rain washing away the blood that came. You still felt the small amount of pain that coursed through your now broken skin. “Hey there, you better be careful!” Taishiro said as he leaned to one side and placed the bag down.

You completely ignored the fact that the police were now standing just a few feet from you, their guns raised as if you were actually attempting to do something. Well, you did try to lunge for the bag that was now on the ground.

Of course, you were stopped by Taishiro who grasped the back of your shirt. “Sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you continuing to injure yourself or try and take that bag back,” he stated and you cried out when you were suddenly lifted up.

You began to kick your feet, attempting to aim for Taishiro’s face. He didn't seem to take too kindly to this considering he was frowning, but what he did next threw you off-guard. He began to lower you down onto his stomach and you could feel something pulling at the bottom of your shoes.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed as you found yourself in a battle with his quirk which was currently sucking you into his body. You knew exactly what he was doing as you had seen him do it before. He could effectively absorb people or hold them in place with his quirk.

It was a way to disable and prevent them from doing any more harm to themselves or others. You tried moving your arms and legs but it was no good, it was almost like your body was being submerged in a pool of putty. “Fat Gum…” you hissed out, your body or at least what was still seen of it, began to tremble.

“Sorry, I wasn't too rough with you. Was I?” he questioned as he looked down at you, effectively trapped and safe within his fat. You couldn’t help but glare, but at least in a way, the rain wasn’t bothering you. However, your soaking wet bangs were still hanging in your face.

You grumbled as one of the police force members walked over to the bag and curiously peeked inside before looking at you. They wore a tan trench coat with white gloves and a matching hat. You could make out their black hair and dark eyes.

"Is this everything?" they asked and you opened your mouth to speak or curse him out, but Taishiro answered for you. Flashing a smile, he raised his arm with a confident nod. “Should be Tsukauchi,” he replied and you raised your eyebrow.

‘Naomasa Tsukauchi...should have known’ you thought. ‘Guess I didn’t recognize him in that getup,’ Naomasa was the police detective of the police force and someone you had dealt with countless times. Needless to say, you didn’t favor him much.

"Hm," he turned his attention to Taishiro. "Do you need an escort to the police station?" he questioned and you scowled. “Police station!? Again!?” no surprise you had been there countless times, sat in those tiny interrogation rooms for hours.

However, Naomasa didn’t answer you. He didn’t even bother to glance at you, rather he kept his eyes locked on Taishiro. “Nah,” he replied before patting his stomach and you could feel the slight vibrations course through your body as a result of the motion.

“This big ol’ body wouldn’t mind a little more exercise, I can take them in myself,” the rain continued to hit the ground, creating a random but somehow rhythmic sound that eased the current anger you felt. Naomasa looked at Taishiro with some concern before he nodded and turned to one of the officers who took the bag.

"Let’s wrap this up and go!" he said before walking away. However, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Taishiro. "Thank you for continuing to protect Japan," he said as he tipped his hat and resumed walking. Taishiro must have heard the rather animalistic growls coming from you.

But you knew he couldn’t see the way your eyes were narrowed and your teeth clenched together. Wishing that Naomasa would burst into flames at any moment, but you were quickly distracted away from your hateful thoughts when Taishiro turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“You alright there?” he questioned, his voice was back to its cheery tone and you knew he was smiling as he walked. You kept quiet, refusing to answer him as he rounded the corner out of the alleyway. Why should you even talk to him when he was only going to take you to the police station?

Or at least that’s where you thought you were going until you began to realize. “This isn’t the way to the police station,” you pointed out, though you had some doubt. You knew the streets of Esuha City well enough and you knew something was off.

You tried to glance up at Taishiro but the task was impossible considering you couldn’t fully turn your head. Taishiro chuckled and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you, but this wasn't the case. “I knew you were smart enough to catch on!” he replied and you growled yet again in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, the question coming out with a hiss as you tried once more to wiggle your way ‘out’ of Taishiro. But stopped when a series of lights began to irritate your vision. The pouring rain didn’t help as it caused the light to glare which, in turn, caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Those lights are annoying,” you pointed out and Taishiro came to a stop. Raising his hand up to press against his forehead as he looked at the large building ahead of him. “Yeah?” he questioned before laughing once more. “This is where I live,” he said casually, despite the fact your jaw dropped.

“...what?” for a moment you didn’t think you heard him correctly. That is until he started walking to the door, it was a tad bizarre to see a scanner attached to the outside wall. But Taishiro seemed prepared for it, considering he reached up to remove his glove.

You watched as he pressed one of his fingers against the screen of that scanner which then became illuminated by blue light. A few seconds later, the two sliding glass doors unlocked and Taishiro walked through. Humming softly to himself as he slipped his glove back over his hand.

“Mm,” you grumbled from your position. Your hair was mostly dry now, though your bangs still stuck to your forehead and it was a little irritating you couldn’t simply push them out of the way. You tried to ignore it in favor of taking in your new surroundings. The entrance of the building was rather well-kept.

The tiled flooring looked polished and there was fancy furniture everywhere. You could hear the faint sounds of individuals talking somewhere off in the distance mixed with the continued rainfall. ‘He lives in a place like this?’ granted Taishiro didn’t seem to be one that spent his money on large mansions and such.

He was social, so maybe he would prefer living in a place that had people. "Uh!" you shook your head, jeez. Were you getting soft? You tried to focus on your surroundings once more, and took note that there was an elevator but surely Taishiro wouldn’t use an elevator given his height and weight, right?

Sure enough, you felt the motion of him turning and watched as he entered through another door. It gave somewhat of an eerie squeak as it opened and you found yourself staring down a rather large and empty-looking hallway. How odd.

However, your thoughts were shattered when you felt Taishiro lean back and, in turn, you jolted forward. Hitting the floor with a soft thud, you felt moisture across the length of your arms and your clothes were still sticking to your skin. “What the hell!?” you snapped before frantically standing on your feet.

Your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed in a glare toward Taishiro. He gave a nervous chuckle and reached up to rub the back of his head. “Sorry bout’ that,” he replied before once more grinning, not that doing such a thing made you any less angry at him.

“There’s a big ol’ elevator at the end of this hallway," he said. "Sturdy enough to support you and me,” he claimed as he patted his stomach. “...elevator?” you questioned as you looked over your shoulder. “Mmhm, let’s go,” Taishiro urged as he laid his hand on your shoulder which you didn't take too kindly to.

You attempted to flinch away but his fingers took firmer hold. "Didn’t think I’d let you run off, did you?” a growl rumbled in your throat, but Taishiro didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Rather, he just smiled and proceeded to pull you along despite your continued attempts to wiggle away.

A familiar ding sounded when the elevator arrived and Taishiro pulled you inside with him. The elevator bounced some underneath his weight and for a moment you were expecting the cord to snap and for both of you to spiral downward.

Luckily that didn’t happen and he released his hold on your shoulder as soon as the elevator doors closed. You grumbled in response and reached up to grasp your shoulder, though Taishiro’s grip didn’t hurt you couldn’t help but pout.

First, you got caught, then you got your things taken away, and now you’re being brought home by a hero. What else could go wrong? What hero did things like this? “Mm…” you glanced up at Taishiro who had his elbows bent and a happy expression on his face, why was he always so happy?

“Why are you doing this?” you questioned and Taishiro turned to look down at you. Somehow he knew that no answer would satisfy you. So he wouldn't stress himself trying to figure out what he could say. Instead, he glanced forward. Watching as the light just above the door continued to change, indicating each floor you passed.

“We’re almost there,” he said, and you noticed his voice sounded a little flat, almost like he was disappointed. But part of you expected that more than likely he wasn’t planning on spending his night with a vigilante. Still, you were a little annoyed he didn’t answer your question.

“Fine then…” you said as you crossed your arms and turned away from Taishiro, somewhat acting like a child. But at the moment, you didn’t care. When the elevator finally came to a stop and the door opened, you had debated about running.

But chances are Taishiro would catch you again and you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Still, you were surprised to be greeted with what looked to be a rather large living room. There were several pieces of furniture including a couch which sat in front of a large flat-screen television.

“Well come on in!” Taishiro exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped off the elevator and you heard the wooden floor give a creak underneath his weight. You took a step back, once more debating if you should try for an escape. It would be so easy, just push the ‘lobby’ button and you’d be on your way.

You raised your hand, ready to reach over and enact your plan. But froze when Taishiro turned around, blinking when he saw you in the elevator. “Heh,” he placed his hands on his hips. “What are you still doing in there?” he questioned before he extended a hand out to you.

“Uh…” your arms pressed up against your chest and you looked down at that offered hand. It could be debated that it was a strange gesture, but somehow you felt as though Taishiro was always offering a hand out to you.

If it wasn't his hand, then he always appeared as though he were looking for any excuse to touch you. Maybe one day you’d get a real answer from him, but it seemed no matter what his answer always revolved around thinking you were a good person or that if you changed your ways you’d make a great hero.

Maybe he was trying to convert you, undo all the previous damage you had been through that led you to the path of a vigilante. Still, you couldn’t deny that he was trying to make some type of connection to you and despite the many times you had been caught doing this or that, Taishiro always let you go.

You partly wondered if he’d get in trouble for this, harboring a vigilante in his home instead of taking them to the police station as he said he would. You latched onto your lip before giving in and slowly laid your hand in his and once again you were reminded that despite Taishiro’s size, he was awfully gentle with everything he did.

Including clasping his fingers over your hand and guiding you into the living room. You couldn’t help but glance around, taking a full scan of the room. You never thought Taishiro would be one to hang pictures everywhere. But there were several picture frames lining the surface of every table and some were even hanging on the walls.

One, in particular, caught your eye. Taishiro was standing in the middle of the frame with his agency building behind him. But what struck you as odd was the young boys standing on each side of him. One had a white and yellow hood with dark hair and seemed as though he were trying to cover his face as the picture was being taken.

Then the other seemed rather enthusiastic, sporting a big toothy grin though he looked like he had sharp teeth as well as spiky red hair that stuck out at several points. Taishiro must have noticed you were staring at the picture and chuckled before releasing your hand.

“Those are my chick-lings,” he stated confidently, snapping you out of your small trance. “Huh?” you turned to look at him, blinking once or twice. Who refers to anyone as a chick-ling? Well, actually maybe you should have expected such from Taishiro of all people.

Still, you couldn’t help the confused expression on your face. “...what?” you questioned causing Taishiro to chuckle. Seconds later, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Ah,” frantically stepping away, you pressed your hands against the top of your head. “Don’t do that,” you said flatly, but Taishiro must have chosen to ignore you.

“Those two are the best work-study students I’ve had, our little Suneater is going to be my official sidekick next year! That is if we can work on those delicate nerves of his,” he commented as he pointed to the boy hiding his face in the photo.

You raised your eyebrow and stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the photo. ‘Sidekick, huh?’ you had never met Taishiro’s little helpers, but you often pulled your misfit adventures at night and if those boys had school. Well, it would make sense why you never saw them.

You continued to stare for a few more minutes before you heard Taishiro...sniffing something. You slowly turned your head, seeing that he was bent down to your height. That sniffing continued as he leaned closer, in turn, causing you to lean back.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, slightly bewildered at the man’s behavior, but he seemed to come back to reality a few seconds later. It was strange having him so close, though you noticed his yellow eyes seemed to stand out, especially against that black mask he always wore.

A few blond strands still stuck out from under his hood. You often wondered if his hood somehow hurt him considering it looked awfully close to his scalp. “Hm, oh sorry just…” he leaned back, suddenly acting a little shy as he glanced away from you causing you to tilt your head. Why was he acting so strange?

You flinched when he suddenly looked back at you and swiped his tongue over his lips which would have concerned you if not for his next set of words. “Well...you smell mighty sweet,” he claimed, and before you had time to properly react.

You felt his hands slip underneath your arms and let out a cry as you were lifted off the ground. You kicked your feet when Taishiro leaned close and you could feel the way he buried his face into your unruly hair. He then proceeded to sniff once more causing a chill down your spine.

“Your hair smells sweeter than chocolate, gotta confess it’s making me a little hungry,” he stated and you looked at him bewildered before he lowered you back onto the floor. “That’s a compliment,” he stated shortly after as if you were supposed to thank him for the fact you smelled like candy.

“...thanks?” you replied, still unsure of what Taishiro’s motive was. “Are you still a little wet from the rain?” he questioned as he placed his hands on his knees and once more leaned down to your height. “How about I getcha a towel or a fresh set of clothes?” you raised your eyebrow, despite the fact that you were mostly dry.

Your clothes were still sticking to your skin and had dried into uncomfortable creases and wrinkles. You latched onto your lip, almost angry that you were going to accept the kind offer from a hero. But, not all heroes were bad and Taishiro was proving exactly that.

Yet, you couldn't help but think that eventually...one day he would turn on you and end your vigilante days once and for all. But at the moment, you couldn't spend your time worrying about your unknown future with Taishiro. “No towel, but a change of clothes if you have anything that would fit me,” part of you doubted that.

But Taishiro proved time and time again he could surprise you. He seemed happy with your response. “You got it!” he said with a playful wink before he turned to walk away, once more leaving you wondering why he seemed to put so much trust in you. When he disappeared down the hallway, you turned to look over your shoulder.

Glancing at the elevator that you could so easily make a run for and finally escape. But for some reason, you felt compelled to stay where you were. You heard the distant shuffle of clothes echo in the background which was more than likely Taishiro searching high and low for something that could fit you.

“Mm…” the floor continued to creak underneath your feet as you walked towards one of the windows, the sky was painted a dull gray but even then Esuha City continued to flash its usual display of bright colors. But unlike most days, there weren’t many people on the streets below considering it was still raining.

You wondered when it would let up and got lost as you continued to watch the rain come down. So much so that you didn’t notice when Taishiro walked up behind you. "Hm?" he looked at your reflection in the glass and chuckled softly before he leaned down to your ear.

“Pretty ain’t it?” you jumped and quickly turned around with your hand clenching your chest. “Oh!” Taishiro took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and you responded with a growl which he seemed to yet again ignore.

“I found something for you to wear,” he stated as he held up what looked to be one of his standard hero suit hoodies. But there was something slightly different about this one. It looked significantly smaller for one thing and though it was still orange, the letters across the front of it were yellow with a white and black outline.

“Uh…” you raised your eyebrow, at least it would go past your thighs or so you assumed. “This is from when I first started my hero career, I fooled around a bit with colors since then…” he said with a sheepish laugh before lightly shoving the hoodie into your arms.

“Hm?” you blinked and held it up by the shoulders before pressing it against your body, trying to see just how well it would fit you. “I got a bathroom down the hall there, just past the closet. First door to the left,” he instructed as he pointed and your eyes followed that finger.

You glanced back at the garment in your hands, allowing your thumbs to run over the fabric. It was smooth and almost had a slippery surface, did that help with his quirk? You weren't sure and you were almost mad at yourself for even wanting to inquire about his quirk.

You latched onto your lip. “...thanks,” you replied before you ducked your head and quickly scurried past Taishiro and down the hall. “Huh!?” he seemed rather surprised by your actions and the fact that he had to step back as you scurried past him. He shifted his gaze to the hallway where he heard the bathroom door slam shut.

He reached up, scratching his head as he was clearly confused by your actions. He partly wondered if anyone had ever gifted you anything before, then again maybe he was coming off too strong. A click sounded as you locked the bathroom door behind you and turned around, slightly startled by the sight before you.

The bathroom itself was rather large and had a stand-in shower with sliding glass doors with one corner squared off to make a bathtub. The counter of the sink was well-organized and had a large square mirror hanging on the wall. You blinked. ‘Well...maybe I was wrong…’ seemed Taishiro did enjoy certain aspects of being a hero and making a lot of yen.

Regardless, you shook your head and proceeded to the sink counter, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair still appeared dried out and slightly curled, your clothes looked crusty and had several stiff creases in them. "Mm..." you lifted your arm, glancing at the elbow that had gotten torn.

The wound itself still looked fresh and the skin around it inflamed, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Overall, you certainly looked like someone who had spent too much time in the rain. You could still hear the gentle drops echoing as they hit the roof of the building.

You couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling, allowing yourself to get lost in the sound of the rain. You would have much preferred to have gotten away with your bag of goods. But instead, you were here. You then let out a sigh, once more holding up the hoodie you were given.

“Mm…” you laid it out on the counter before you went about removing your clothes. But you struggled as you tried to pull your shirt over your head and trying to wiggle out of your pants was a short-lived nightmare. You stumbled into the sink counter before kicking your shirt and pants away.

Then you quickly grabbed the hoodie and slipped it over your head, it was still a little big on you but the extra room felt cozy. The sleeves were a little too long and hung off your hands, leaving extra fabric to sway. But at least it went past your thighs and your hair didn’t look too bad when you pulled the hood up.

“Huh…” you glanced at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that as you tried to decide how much you favored how Taishiro’s hoodie looked on you. “It’s not bad…” you said to yourself before you quickly gathered your clothes off the floor and cradled them to your chest.

Once more the thought of escaping entered your mind as you stepped out of the bathroom and glanced up and down the hallway. “Lookin’ good!” Taishiro suddenly exclaimed, causing you to jump and stumble back. Your clothes falling to the floor in the process and you stared at them a moment before going to yell at Taishiro.

However, your mouth immediately closed when you were greeted with the sight of someone you didn’t recognize. However, they were dressed in Taishiro’s clothing and had similar hair and eyes. But they were rather skinny and muscular. You blinked, and your stance remained stiff as you stared at them.

“Everything alright?” he questioned and you watched as he leaned down. Positioning himself onto one knee in order to pick up your clothes. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said as he folded your clothes and stacked them on top of each other. “Here you go!” he said cheerfully as he held them out to you.

A smile was on his face and you raised your eyebrow. “Taishiro?” you questioned, trying to ignore how weird his name sounded on your tongue. “What...what happened to you?” you had never seen him like this before. Was this part of his quirk? Did it somehow malfunction?

You slowly reached to take your clothes back, being a tad clumsy considering the sleeves of Taishiro’s old hoodie got in the way. “Oh, this?” he said as he pointed to himself before standing on his feet once more. “Well, I figured I was going a little too fast so I thought I’d start from the beginning," he explained with a chuckle.

"That way, maybe we could get to know each other better?” you raised your eyebrow. “What?” you replied as you placed your hand on your hip, your other kept hold of your clothes. “That doesn’t answer my question, what happened to you?” Taishiro laughed, though it sounded a tad awkward.

“Well,” he began, “this is my standard form, without all that...extra,” he said as he patted two hands against his stomach. “Either way, most folks seem to prefer this form but if you ask me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he stated before he lowered his hands and leaned slightly in your direction.

“Which is part of the reason I’d like to get to know you,” he said as he reached his hand out for your shoulder but you smacked it away. A soft growl rumbled in your throat before you took a step forward, stomping your foot against the floor.

Despite the fact that Taishiro was at least three or more times bigger than you, that didn’t stop you from pointing your finger up at him. “What the hell do you mean beauty is in the eye of the beholder?!” you wanted to make a point that you disagreed with Taishiro, especially knowing he was talking in reference to you.

Your fingers were curling into your pile of clothes, slightly trembling and your hood had fallen down. But you could care less about how unruly your hair looked at the moment. “Well the way I see it is, you seem like someone who’s bottling themselves up” you lowered your finger, tilting your head to the side.

“S-So what…” you replied before quickly turning your back to him in order to scurry down the hallway. “It’s not like...it’s not like I can be someone else you know!” you suddenly snapped as you once more found yourself in the living room.

It was one thing to assume someone was going to be your friend just because you may have shown them a little kindness. But it was an entirely different thing to assume you knew someone’s life story. Taishiro didn’t even ask! But...you couldn’t deny he was correct in a sense.

You had tried to be a hero once upon a time and maybe it was just bad luck, but you quickly discovered that some heroes could be just as bad as the villains they were sworn to protect others from. That’s what caused you to take the first few steps into becoming a vigilante. Taishiro ducked some as he exited the hallway into the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” and you didn’t mean to roll your eyes. “Hmph!” you replied, almost like a child as you reached back and pulled the hood over your head once more. Then you crossed your arms, your back still facing Taishiro as he continued to speak.

“It’s just...I’ve been noticing that you’re treating yourself like a villain..." he trailed off a moment. You imagined he was trying to gather his thoughts, despite how crazy they were. "I can’t help but disagree with the way you’re treating someone I like,” your arms dropped a little and you felt that familiar insecurity begin to rise.

But you refused to allow yourself to show it. “...what?” you questioned as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Taishiro. For once, he wasn’t smiling and you flinched slightly as he stepped closer to you.

“I like you,” he repeated, “...y/n,” he added a few seconds later and you couldn’t help but feel your heart accelerate when he spoke your name. A low heat began to fill your cheeks and you quickly turned your head back to stare at the wall in front of you.

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hood you wore and your knees were turned inward, you refused to speak. “Which is why I can’t let you continue this war between you and yourself, I suppose what I’m saying is...you should be kind to yourself even if you’re angry at yourself or what happened to you," he took a deep breath.

"I know some people aren’t so nice in the world,” he continued as he reached out to take your hand and despite your attempt to jerk it out of his grip, once more he proved he could be stubborn when he wanted to be. His fingers curled tightly around your hand and he narrowed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hero in him, but there was also some part of him that didn’t want to see you spend your life in this harmful cycle. Maybe he could continue to try and steer you back onto the path of a hero, but he knew that would take a long time. But he couldn't deny it would be worth every step.

After all, he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere until he at least got through to you a little. Despite knowing that he'd be in hot water by the end. Yet, isn't that what a hero was for? Sometimes sacrificing yourself for others was the noblest thing you could do.

His fingers continued to tighten around your hand, but he was careful not to hurt you, especially when he pulled you forward which caused you to cry out. Once more your clothes fell to the floor and at this point, you could care less about them. Rather you found both your hands preoccupied.

One held securely by Taishiro and the other curling into the front of his hoodie which now felt baggy and too loose for his ‘standard form.’ You still didn’t fully understand how he could switch between forms so easily like that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. You bared your teeth up at Taishiro with a growl.

But he simply blinked in response as though he weren’t the least bit threatened by you and he probably wasn’t. Rather you felt him guide your hand to place over his heart and he leaned down. His eyes locked with yours which didn’t help the fact your face was growing hotter.

“You gotta learn to love your enemies too, so why not start with me?” he questioned with a smile. “Then maybe you can learn how to do it for yourself and I’d be more than happy to help you,” the sound of the rain continued outside but you could tell it was fading and more than likely would stop at any moment.

“...I...” you were speechless as you stood there pressed up against the hero with your jaw hanging open and your eyebrows tilted in confusion. There was a burning anger building in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t actually be mad considering he was correct in some aspect.

You clenched your jaw and pushed against his chest with your free hand. “I don’t need your help!” you snapped as you ripped your hand out of his grip and proceeded to pound your fists against his chest. But it didn’t seem to affect him considering his quirk could just absorb the damage.

Taishiro frowned and reached his free hand out, cupping the side of your head. Allowing his abnormally large fingers to slip through the strands that made up your hair. You paused and your eyes widened. "I know you don’t, but I’d like to offer anyway,” he stated and you noticed the uninterrupted silence between you two.

“Hm?” you blinked and turned your head, looking out the window to see the rain had stopped just as you suspected it would. The gray sky was slowly being replaced with small patches of sunshine. You imagined the people down below were slowly coming out of hiding to once more go about their normal day.

That anger that was previously brewing in your stomach slowly faded and you turned back to Taishiro, your stare directed at your hands that remained against his chest. You slowly unfolded your fists and pressed them flat against him.

“You heroes don’t take no for an answer, do you?” maybe it was the hero complex, you weren't sure. But either way, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away from Taishiro. So was accepting the situation as it was, better for you?

No matter how hard you fought against Taishiro, both in the past and present. It seemed he remained the same, constantly chasing after you until he finally caught you in his web or in this case his arms. His soft chuckle sounded once more. “I suppose not,” he replied before smiling.

“What do you say?” he questioned and you glanced away, once more allowing silence to fill the space between you. “I’m...not going to stop,” turning your glance back on him, you continued. “Being a vigilante is the only thing I’ve known since…” you paused, wondering if you really wanted to confess why you choose to be a vigilante.

But maybe it would help Taishiro understand. “The world of the heroes is not all that it’s cracked up to be,” you glanced down. “Some are just as bad as the villains and those are the ones I need to stop," you stated as your hands began to tremble. Then you looked up at Taishiro.

"I know one of your so-called heroes was eyeing that store and could so easily be handed whatever they wanted even when they didn’t deserve it. So I needed to prevent that from happening,” you stated despite knowing that your explanation might not make sense to Taishiro let alone any hero.

Taishiro however, looked a tad confused but he knew that some people did strange things for strange reasons and he couldn’t blame you for trying to do what was right in your eyes even if it was wrong in the eyes of the law. He frowned and reached over. “Hey!” you exclaimed when you felt his fingers take gentle hold of your chin.

He slowly moved your head back to face him. “Sorry,” he said, “I know some heroes must have done you wrong, but I can promise you I won’t be one of them," he said with some sadness in his voice. "I wouldn't let any hero capture you," those set of words caused you to raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?” you questioned as you jerked your head back, reaching up to massage your chin despite the fact that Taishiro was being extremely gentle. “If anything happens involving you...I’ll be the first on the scene, don’t you worry about that,” you assumed this was yet again another one of his half-hearted attempts to convert you.

To show that he’d always protect you and yet you still couldn’t understand why, other than the fact that Taishiro somehow ‘liked’ you. ‘I might have to make that harder for him,' you thought before shifting your glance to the floor. Then a chuckle escaped you which seemed to surprise Taishiro.

“Is something funny there?” he questioned and you shook your head before taking a step forward. “I think I’m going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse,” you stated before reaching up to lay your hand against Taishiro’s cheek, getting somewhat amused as his eyes widened.

Was he truly surprised that you made an affectionate gesture towards him? Somehow it made your smile grow and you stepped away before turning your back to him. Though he was still slightly flustered, he kept his eyes locked on you and the way your hand ran along the top of a nearby shelf.

Your fingers slowly came to one of the picture frames Taishiro had and you traced the side of it before picking it up. "You know..." you began, catching Taishiro's attention as you continued to stare at the picture.

"You really shouldn't trust a vigilante," you said before your fingers grasped the picture frame tightly and you reeled your hand back. The picture frame flew out of your hand towards Taishiro who instinctively put his arms up.

You smirked and quickly grabbed a flower pot, you didn't bother to see if it was real or not. But you didn't picture Taishiro having a lot of time to take care of living plants. Regardless, you used it to shatter the glass of the window.

The thought of how far you'd fall if you were to jump out of said window crossed your mind for a second. But at this point, you'd take your chances. "Hey now!" he lowered his arms, his eyes wide as he felt the cold air come in from the now broken window.

You grinned and quickly jumped onto the shelf, managing to avoid Taishiro's arms that attempted to grab you. The extra fabric of his hoodie seemed to prove useful as you crossed your arms and took a leap of faith out the window.

Despite feeling the remaining shards that stuck out from the corners of the window shred through the fabric of the sleeves. A cold rush of air surrounded you as you descended towards the busy streets below. "Y/n!" Taishiro screamed as he ran towards the window and stuck his head out.

He glanced around before eventually spotting you and judging by the way you were waving, one of two things was clear. Either he was going to chase after you or for the moment, you had won. "Little troublemaker," Taishiro said as he turned and rushed for the elevator. "I'll catch you yet!" he declared with a determined but happy smile.

#fat gum x reader #taishiro x reader

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moonofthenight · 3 years ago

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Welcome to New York

@spookypotato and I (thank you again <3) wrote a fic for the server event that is going on at the moment and I wanted to share it here too, enjoy!

O'Darwin and O'Knutzy belongs to @lumosinlove

CW mentions of food and beverages

It knocked on Leo’s door at 2pm sharp, which didn’t surprise him at all; Kasey was always so dead on time, it scared him sometimes. The two had planned this day for over two weeks now and since Finn and Logan had their date today, Leo used the free flat to invite the other goalie over. He closed the fridge before he made his way into the hallway to open the door.

“Hello Knutty, long time no see,” laughed Kasey as he pulled the blonde in for a short hug.

“Come in, come in. I got everything prepared in the kitchen.”

“I hope you can still live here after today.”

“Honestly Blizz? No one is as bad as Finn and Logan at cooking, believe me. What they are able to do to food shouldn’t be possible.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

To prevent that from happening, Leo chose a simple meal to start with. When Kasey asked him to teach him how to cook he was a bit surprised at first, but he actually enjoyed the idea of teaching someone.

“Let’s start with chopping the vegetables, that should be easy, non?”, Leo suggested. It was better to know now, if this would be like the times he tried to teach Logan and Finn.

Surprisingly, the following minutes weren’t a complete disaster like he had expected, Kasey was actually quite decent at cooking and followed Leo’s instructions without trouble. It was fun to spend time together and their cheeks were still a bit red from all the laughter when they went over to the kitchen table.

Just as Leo was about to sit down his phone rang, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

It was a text from Finn.

Alex will be home over the weekend too, just wanted to let you know.

He was halfway through typing out an answer when he got an idea.

Don’t tell him Lo and I will be there

What? Why?

Let's bring Nat and Kase as a surprise. It won't be as obvious if he thinks we all can't come

I love you

Knew you'd like it, lyt

***

They had lost Kasey and Natalie in the airport, when Finn decided to buy Leo and Logan each an 'I heart NY-boys' shirt. A quick call told them that the couple was already outside.

It was colder in New York, the sky was grey but Finn felt warm when he stepped out of the airport. New York was home to him, it would always somehow be, and bringing Leo and Logan with him, especially Leo, since he hadn't been able to bring him as often yet, felt amazing. A warm body snuggled under his arm and he smiled.

“It’s cold,” Logan pouted and hid his face in Finn’s chest.

“I thought you were used to it. I'm pretty sure you even quoted Elsa on that once, baby."

When Logan just continued to pout, he gently leaned down to kiss his messy airplane curls, "If you let me go you can have my jacket.”

Logan was quiet for a minute, “No, you’re warmer.”

Leo chuckled and grabbed their suitcases, “Kase and Nat are over there. I think they spotted the taxi, let’s go.”

Logan peeled himself off of Finn, still pouting a bit but the thought of a warm car seemed to do the deal. Finn and Leo followed quickly, helping Kasey to put all their bags into the back of the car before getting in themselves. Finn leaned forward to tell the driver their destination.

It was quiet for a while after that, everybody was quite exhausted from the flight, Logan was already dosing off on Leo’s shoulder; he carefully moved his fingers through the brown curls, a loving look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” said Nat suddenly, looking at Leo.

“What did I do?”

“For coming up with the idea,” Kasey added, “We haven’t seen Alex for three months now, so, thank you for thinking of us.”

Leo smiled at them, “It’s unfair that you can't see him regularly and I thought it might be a nice surprise for him.”

“I hope he will like it,” Nat said sleepily, resting her head on Kasey’s shoulder.

“I’m glad my brother found you two, I really am. I mean, the distance sucks but he’s so happy with you. He deserves that more than anything,” said Finn and bumped his shoulder lightly with Kasey’s, careful not to wake Nat.

“I’m sorry.” Kasey said and Finn wasn't sure if it was to himself or someone else.

“What?”

“Well, I knew I loved your brother since Tampa and I didn’t have the guts to do something about it. It probably would have saved us some time.”

“Nah, who knows if everything would have worked out like it did now. Sure, maybe you could have saved some time and pain but I’m just glad you found your way now.”

“Thank-” Kasey started but got interrupted by the driver, “We are here, sir.”

Finn reached for his wallet but Kasey was faster, “Take it as some kind of thank you.”

Finn smiled at him. “Will we do it as planned?”

"Yep, we will wait around the corner, you go in."

Natalie and Kasey walked as quietly as possible but the loud noise of the three other suitcases was enough to drown out the rest anyway. The moment Finn knocked on the door, it flew open, as if the older O'Hara had been behind it for some time.

"Bubbles!"

"Alex!", Finn screamed with equal enthusiasm, laughing at the silly nickname. He threw his arms around his older brother and just held him tight. Finn missed him too, it's not easy if you grow up in a close relationship with your brother and suddenly you are miles and miles away.

Finn didn't want to let him go just yet and decided to continue their hug. It had been too long, really.

Alex just laughed and squeezed him tightly. "Come in, Mum and Dad already made tea and coffee and they bought your favourite- Leo? Logan? What are you doing here?"

At that Finn stepped back, looking at his brother sheepishly, but determined.

Alex's confused face made Logan chuckle, "Hello to you too, Red. How are you doing? I'm good, thank you. I missed you too." Alex rolled his eyes but gave them both a welcoming smile. "Finn can't go a day without us, so he asked us to come with us."

"I did not say that!"

"Mhh, whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetheart," Leo leaned down to kiss their pouting lover. Finn rolled his eyes at him.

Alex still seemed to be trying to piece everything together, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Guess I just forgot," Finn shrugged and moved past his brother to greet his parents, pulling Leo with him. The taller boy had of course met the O'Hara's but he was still nervous. They had barely made it into the room before both got tackled by hugs.

"It's great to see you Haley," Leo said when he let go and received a loving pat on the cheek as a thank you. They switched places and her arms were replaced by a firm grip around Leo's shoulders.

"Where is my other boy?" Finn's mother asked, going up to her toes and looking around the room.

"Here," Logan said, who came into the living room right that instant, Alex close behind him. "There you are! Oh, come here I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Why do you get so excited to see Logan? You weren't that excited with me. Betrayed by my own mother, I can't believe it!" Alex complained, holding his hand over his heart.

His mother snorted at Alex's dramatic reaction. "Stop whining and make yourself useful, get some tea for Leo. You still prefer tea, right?"

"Yeah I do, thank you," Leo said with a smile and then blew Alex a kiss, who just subtly flipped him off in return.

The six settled down shortly after and Leo sent out a quick text to Kasey; not a minute later the doorbell rang again.

"Alex, would you be so kind?"

Alex gave his mother a quick nod, before making his way over to the door. He was expecting the mailman but the people in front of him were most definitely not a package. Alex just froze in place and he was pretty sure his mouth fell open too.

"Hi, baby," said Kasey with a soft exhale, his smile as bright as ever.

"Wha- I- What?" Alex still hadn't moved.

"Surprise!" said Natalie who threw herself at Alex, jumping up to wrap her legs around the boy's hips. He caught her easily and after another minute of shock, tears formed in his eyes and he pulled the blonde impossibly closer to his body. Alex put a hand on her cheek, kissing her softly. He blinked rapidly and looked up when they parted and Natalie jumped down to the ground again.

"That bad to see us, eh?", said Kasey softly, who still stood in the doorway and watched the whole interaction with a warm, fuzzy feeling around his heart.

"God, just- come here."

Alex didn't care about anything at all when he finally locked his lips with Kasey. His hands immediately went into the soft long hair of his boyfriend, craving as much closeness as possible. After another moment, Alex pressed their foreheads together, catching his breath.

The rustling behind them, broke through their shared breaths, "We'll give you a moment to catch up," Haley told them, a knowing smile on her lips as she ushered the other men into another room.

Somehow his mother always knew what was going on. He turned back to his partners, still unable to grasp that they were actually here, in New York City, with him.

"Missed us?" Nat asked as she stepped up close to Alex again, slotting herself underneath the already held out arm of her oldest boyfriend.

Resting his head on hers, he gestured for Kasey to join their group hug. "More than I could ever put into words."

"Love you, Alex." Kasey breathed out as he felt his boyfriend's arm wrap around his waist, snuggling his face into Alex's neck and placing a few soft kisses there.

Another arm was placed around Kasey's waist as Natalie gathered her boyfriends closer to her, breathing in the familiar smell of Mango Shampoo and of the sanitizer Kasey always uses after flights. It mixed with Alex's aftershave, that she still couldn't assign anything else than home, love and safety. It was Alex.

"Love you." she murmured, not willing to move her head further away that was necessary to get the words out.

Alex smiled at them. Oh, how he had missed this. How he had missed them.

"Love you both."

#lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #o'darwin #joined fic #server anniversary #fluff #cw: food and beverages #rating: g

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utilitycaster · 4 years ago

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Skill Proficiencies are the Bedrock on Which the Success of a D&D Party Rests, Monks are a Utility Class, and Other Correct Opinions

This came up when I was thinking about the Cobalt Soul subclass and the discussion thereof, especially the dismissive way in which people sometimes treat the mystical erudition feature. I am also a bard player, in my longest-running game, and I prefer utility classes in general, so I decided to write a whole essay that maybe like 5 people will appreciate, two of whom are in my inbox (thanks for the encouragement, @ayzenigma and @agigabyte and one of whom is me.

In D&D, on a fundamental level, this is what happens:

A DM describes the world

You decide to interact with the world in some way

The DM decides if you automatically can do what you want, if you automatically can’t do what you want, or if there are a range of possible outcomes. If the last option, roll a d20.

The DM narrates what happens when you act or fail to act, ie, describes the new state of the world; the cycle begins anew.

The vast majority of those d20 rolls will be skill checks. Some will be combat rolls, which are a whole other thing, but most will be skill checks. Some will be incredibly important skill checks. Some will be relatively minor. Sometimes you’ll be aware of how important the roll is; sometimes you will not. Spells can sometimes guarantee or improve the chances of a success, as can some class abilities; but those are finite resources, and in the end a lot of D&D is resource management, and many of the choices you make in interaction are going to be influenced by what resources you have left.

Consider: the party comes upon a door with a single lock. The party is D&D four-person-party classic: a mage archetype, a thief archetype, a healer archetype, and a strength-based battler archetype.

The mage can cast knock to open the door. This does guarantee success, but it’s extremely loud and will not only alert anyone nearby but also uses a second level spell slot. They may be able to get around this if they or the healer also casts silence, depending on how you play it*, but that’s either another spell slot gone, or ten minutes wasted.

The battler can, for free, either kick down the door or attack it. This is also going to be very loud unless silence is employed, they might choose to use a finite resource (a once a day weapon ability, a rage) and even if this itself doesn’t alert anyone on its own, the big hole where a door should have been, or even the smashed keyhole, probably will.

The thief can, for free, pick the lock. Assuming they are specifically a rogue, because of their class build there is a very high chance of success, and specifically a high chance of quick, quiet, secret success even without additional help. And if they fail, well, the other options still exist and only a small amount of time has been lost.

Things like a single rage, or a second level spell slot, don’t seem like much on their own, but that is the other thing about D&D: usually you go to bed with some things left in the tank, but occasionally you do not, and as the resources get into the red line it is not terribly difficult to get into a death spiral of throwing your limited resources at a problem too large to be solved by them. When you’re in a game where, mechanically, there is no difference between having 100 hit points left and having 1 hit point left, but there is a vast chasm between having 1 left and having none, that extra second level slot worth of healing or damage can mean everything.

Or: at levels 5 through 8, with a cleric, the difference between an ally’s life and potentially permanent death is whether the cleric is left standing with one third level spell slot at the end of a battle.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t use spell slots to achieve things, especially if they’re important; just that there’s a balance, and sometimes a single good thieves’ tools check, investigation check, or persuasion check makes just as much of a difference in terms of the party’s success as a high level spell, even though it’s far less flashy.

The game designers realize this. Older versions had the idea of taking ten: if time is not of the essence and there is no significant penalty for failure, you could take ten and guarantee an average job (which does still require some skill proficiency to take that assumed roll of ten to “pretty good”). This still remains in 5e in the form of passive checks. It’s a core element of the rogue and bard classes that they are people who are highly skilled - both have more skills than most classes and access to expertise, which significantly increases their proficiency bonuses and therefore reduces the chance of failure - and both have additional class features that either improve the breadth (jack of all trades for bards granting them partial proficiency in everything) or depth (reliable talent for rogues granting them a guaranteed average job) of those skills. Frequently, and especially for bards, this is not seen as a significant help, possibly because it rarely comes up in combat. This is wrong.

Here’s the thing: combat takes a long time at the table but in terms of what the party is doing, two minutes of combat a day (20 rounds, total) would be considered an incredibly difficult day. The rest of the time, you’re not in combat.

Here’s the other thing: how did that combat happen? Did it happen because someone failed a check - that a better stealth roll or deception check, perhaps made by someone with expertise in one of those two areas, could have prevented? Or if this conflict was inevitable or necessary, was the party able to use that stealth or deception to get a surprise round? Investigation, nature, arcana, or history to know a little bit more in advance about what they’re about to face? Perception or survival to even find the enemy they need to stop? Persuasion to gain an ally? All of these can make the difference between a success and a failure.

When you come to the end of a long-running D&D game, you will probably think back a lot to combat moments and RP moments, and unless it was one of those few clutch ability checks where you knew how momentous it was at the time you probably won’t think back to the dozens of locks picked without issue, or social encounters navigated with relative ease, but they’re going to be there, and you would have felt the strain without them.

This isn’t limited to skill checks, honestly; it’s a problem with almost all so-called fluff/flavor abilities. It’s interesting, in that the words we use to describe a well-built character are themselves quite neutral in terms of the specific build (min-maxed, optimized) but in practice many people assume these fit into one of two categories: the tank, or the glass cannon. Of course, those are combat-specific abilities, and see above with regards to combat. And maybe you are in a D&D game that is very much about combat and combat only, but if you’re not, that so-called fluff is far too dismissive of utility.

And monks, in particular, are more of a utility class than one would expect. Sure, they get a lot of attacks and they’re sort of tanks of the ‘too fast to hit’ variety and they can stun, but monks are utility in a negative-space sort of way.They don’t need your buffs, and a monk in your party, like a rogue who can pick locks or a bard who can talk their way out of trouble, saves your resources. They are incredibly fast, and don’t need longstrider or jump cast on them. They don’t need feather fall or fly because they run up walls and avoid falling damage. They don’t need to be healed, if they just catch the arrows that were shot and evade the area of effect spell; they don’t need a magic weapon (or any weapon); they don’t need a restoration to end effects, they don’t need protection from poison or disease, they save you the need to cast comprehend languages or tongues, they’re less likely to need a buff to help them save against other effects, eventually they don’t even need food or water. A monk, like a skill check, helps the party by saving finite resources. The Cobalt Soul build merely makes it a little more literal by granting the monk themselves the ability to make those skill checks.

In conclusion: skill checks are cantrips that everyone gets, and if a class got 8 cantrips when most others got 4, and they had an extra bonus to hit, you’d absolutely notice.

*per a quick search it’s up for debate based on the ranges of the respective spells and whether the lock needs to ‘hear’ the spell or not and anyway if this is what you choose to fixate on in this essay I cannot stress this enough: you have the reading comprehension of a slime mold and the sense of relevance of a Republican congressperson.

#i play a character with 11 skill proficiencies/expertises and yes it's as great as that sounds.#d&d #dungeons & dragons #way of the cobalt soul #no readmore we die like a party that doesn't utilize skill checks effectively

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brattybookclub · 4 years ago

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A BDSMer’s Perspective on THAT Open Heart Diamond Scene

*WARNING: Discussions of NSFW content and BDSM done properly and poorly*

Hi, this is Cath! A major area of interest to me is BDSM, and while I am still a newbie (sadly my journey into the BDSM community was halted due to the pandemic, but that aside, I’ve been doing research since I was a teenager), I was able to identify several problems with the Ethan scene, from a BDSM perspective. This is meant to criticize PB, as I feel that this shows arrogance on their part, and that they just saw the Chapters ad for “Hard To Master” and decided “Hey, we should do that too!” (This will be kind of long.)

Something I didn’t see much discussion on was the fact that towards the end of the scene, Ethan says, “I’ve just never met someone whose appetites could match my own.” Meaning, Ethan has ZERO hands on BDSM experience. And neither does MC. Most of my criticism comes from the fact that neither of them is actually experienced. Hell, I have more experience than they do, and I’m a college student who has to save up for my kink gear, including collars. Yes, a top can practice alone on themselves, but Ethan and MC do very little negotiation. Most of the communication is taking place during the kinky activities, which there’s nothing wrong with, that works for some people, but it seems like the safeword was just there for decoration, and the diamond scene doesn’t really live up to “dark passion”.

When I saw that the scene was in the chapter, obviously I did not buy it, but I was shocked and kind of upset because the way PB marketed the scene was that it was some dark taboo activity where Ethan lets out his inner beast. This isn’t the case. I’m going to start from the beginning here. The context is that Ethan has just demonstrated that he cannot be trusted to maintain the integrity of an important medical study that could lead to breakthroughs in the industry. He showed arrogance and disregard for ethics. This is the backdrop for him asking to dominate MC. Just based on that, MC should say no. BDSM can be an escape from a frustrating day, to regain or give up control, but if one of my partners was going to lose their job, I would not trust them to dominate me that day. If Ethan is in this bad of a headspace, he could hurt MC during their activities (and not in the fun way) and make it worse. Second, HE ASKS AT THEIR JOB, WHERE HE IS MC’S SUPERIOR. The ethics of boss/employee relationship aside, that is blind to the power dynamic built into their workplace. This is the only point PB gives you the choice to consent until later, during the activities. In my opinion, this fucks up the Consent aspect of Safe, Sane, and Consensual, while Ethan’s current headspace and his actions prevent it from being Sane.

I know so many people have said this before me, but the way Ethan says what he wants is probably the grossest way of saying that. “… I need to feel in control of myself… and of you.” Ethan, you are in control of yourself. And saying that he “needs” to feel in control of MC… No. No, no, no. Submission is a gift that you do not take lightly, and must be given voluntarily. You do not ask someone for it without discussion first. And there is no discussion of what MC’s submission style is? Is MC a service submissive, are they a brat, are they a little? What if MC is a top or likes to be dominant? Nor does Ethan discuss what style of dominance he is into. Now that I think about it, there’s not a lot of power exchange. But it’s not just a top/bottom style activity either… Does PB know that you can participate in kinky activities with no power exchange, and that you can do power exchange without pain? It feels like they’ve just lumped all of it together. This scene fails to have any sort of distinct identity. It smells of a couple trying to spice it up in the bedroom and only reading about BDSM off of Cosmopolitan and Buzzfeed, and not really knowing what they’re doing.

As soon as MC and Ethan get to his place, he decides to pour you both some scotch. NO. NO, NO, NO NO. I have been to a discussion amongst EXPERIENCED kinksters about whether dungeons or events should offer alcohol, and it’s controversial because things can go wrong in a PUBLIC kink setting. For inexperienced people, especially with how bad Ethan’s headspace is at this time, and the fact that he claimed he wanted to “feel in control” of MC and himself, he should NOT be touching any alcohol. And over the drinks, Ethan and MC can discuss the events of the day when they could be, I don’t know, talking about what they are about to do??? Because MC has no idea what Ethan’s intentions are, exactly. Later, Ethan gives MC choices for what they can do; either he ties them to the bed, spanks them, or he decides (on all the playthroughs I have seen, Ethan deciding leads to him spanking MC). But they are already in the kink scene. You know how you should never go grocery shopping hungry? Well, you shouldn’t make kinky decisions, especially as a newbie, when you’re horny. They could have used this time to discuss if either of them has experience, and I must repeat, you don’t find out that Ethan has none till after you two finish. Ethan doesn’t tell MC any risks of what they do; if they might be bruised by anything he does, or if something will hurt after they finish. This is not following RACK; Risk Aware Consensual Kink. MC is not able to give informed consent. There’s also no discussion of limits or pain tolerance and… good fucking lord, this is a setup for shit going wrong.

So anyway, after their discussion of the day’s events, and Ethan’s feelings, MC assures him that they don’t want tender (hey, PB… BDSM can be tender!!! Also affectionate, loving, and sweet!!!!) so Ethan gives them a leather body harness and tells them to meet him in the bedroom. My initial reaction was, “How did he have their size, and how did he have that on hand?” I did some research, a lot of body harnesses are adjustable. Still pretty weird that he just had a women’s body harness on hand with no experience. I mean the men’s kind of makes sense because maybe he’s a switch, and as far as the handcuffs and riding crop despite no experience go… a lot of people hoard adult toys without using them much in case they do get the chance.

After MC puts on the harness, they meet Ethan in the bedroom and he asks them to pick a safeword. The default is “Free Healthcare” which fucking sucks as a safeword. The universal safeword is usually “Red” because of the traffic light system. When telling MC not to shy away from using it, he says, “You’re in control just as much as I am.” Uhhh… Who’s gonna tell him that the submissive has all the control? They decide what they consent to. The dominant operates within that. Also the part about, “This isn’t just about giving me what I need… It’s also about giving you what you want.” Yes… but also no. The dominant does not “need” their partner’s submission. It’s them mutually wanting what the other is willing to give. Also the “need” vs “want” feels… icky. So, so, icky.

From there to the options Ethan gives MC isn’t bad. I’ve had at least one of those exchanges in real life because it doesn’t feel cringe in the moment. Since MC and Ethan didn’t negotiate before the scene, I guess Ethan giving MC two options of what he can do to them, or he will decide between the two options if they want him to, isn’t that bad. I just think it would have been much better had there been communication beforehand since MC hasn’t done anything like that before. Thankfully it’s opt-in as opposed to opt-out, because opt-in is recommended for partners who are new to each other.

“Tie me to the bed.” Option: Ethan will muse about whether he should do rope or handcuffs. Maybe he has practiced with rope alone in the past and knows what he’s doing… But MC does not know this!! Mercifully, he picks handcuffs. Thank god he uses leather cuffs. PB has used metal ones in the past and those have all sorts of safety issues if they are not double-locking. PB is super vague about the setup so I’m a little confused about how he can be going down on MC then pull the chains of the cuffs so their back is against the headboard?

“Spank me.”/ “Choose.” Options: Ethan will get a riding crop, which is not at ALL recommended for newbies. I’ve actually had a friend demo a riding crop on my back, when I was fully clothed, but newbies are usually advised to either a) start off with a plain open hand spanking or b) test out how the implement feels by having the receiving partner rate the pain from a scale of 1 to 10 so one can get a feel for their pain tolerance, and how it changes as they are spanked longer. In my experience, it’s important to start out lighter especially with newbies. AND YET. “The first smack of the crop against your bare skin almost ends the game before it’s started.” NO NO NO. STOP STOP STOP. MC can barely take the first hit??? The first one should not push you to your limit, especially when it’s your first time. You may be wondering if riding crops actually sting that much. They don’t have to. It depends how much force you use. Side note, it is important for the top to know what each toy they are using feels like. Whether that means bottoming or testing the toy out on themselves, this makes sure they maintain empathy for their bottom. Anyway, MC gets hit by the riding crop like twice before this option converges with the sex part of the diamond scene. Really PB? You couldn’t at least say that the swats “rained down” or something? Two super intense hits is no fun compared to less intense spankings that last longer. In fact, if you change toys for different sensations, you can usually last longer, since the area gets more sensitive as you go along.

Anyway the sex happens. Ethan says, “Tell me what you want.” Which creates the options:

“Safeword/Free Healthcare” (God PB that’s so cringey, I get it’s a medical drama but just use Red!!!) Option: It instantly stops, Ethan is concerned, MC assures him that they just know their limits, which, good for you MC!! It’s not easy to safeword even when you want/need to. Though, I raise an eyebrow at the fact that you can safeword during the actual sex, as opposed to being tied up or spanked. I would think those would be where a person would be more likely to need to use their safeword especially if they are new to these activities.

“Harder.” Option: Gets more intense after Ethan asks if MC is sure. Goes into Ethan trying some orgasm control. Yay. Don’t see why this whole scene couldn’t have just been rough/wild sex since I’m pretty sure PB has done that before.

“Just like that…” Option: I think we can all guess what happens here.

I’m gonna fast forward through the rest of the sexcapades because there’s nothing interesting or worth critiquing. Safewording makes sure you skip all the rest of the scene and then it’s MC and Ethan in bed, him holding MC. I don’t want to say, “PB didn’t include aftercare!!” because cuddling is a lot of people’s aftercare, but I wish they’d talked about it more. Like Ethan asking if MC needed water or get out of the body harness, or some lotion or aloe vera for their butt if they got spanked. Or him checking their wrists if they got tied up. These are important things for aftercare, and while not everyone needs aftercare for every kind of activity, it’s important to talk about ahead of time, or communicate after the activity. Aftercare helps both parties come down gently from a high that you can easily just have an unpleasant drop from. I’ve gotten emotional after impact play. Some people feel guilt for inflicting pain on someone. Aftercare is necessary for the dominant or top as much as it is for the bottom or submissive, and I wish PB was as good about including that concept as they were about the safeword.

Anyway while they’re cuddling, MC and Ethan have the conversation where it leads to Ethan saying he’s never met anyone whose appetites match his own. While this might be acceptable for someone who lives in a small town… Ethan lives in Boston, Massachusetts. When looking up BDSM dungeons in Boston, I found two dominatrixes, and like three pages that talk about possible BDSM groups. And that’s not even checking on fetlife. Ethan simply didn’t want to look for like-minded people, and that’s on him. He could have found classes to help him learn how to do everything properly and safely, and maybe some friends. More people are kinky than you think!!! People in the community love it when new people join the community and express a desire to learn.

MC spends the night, and in the morning their sprite is STILL wearing the body harness. PB THOSE CANNOT BE COMFORTABLE. Like especially if it’s as fitted as they describe, how can MC still be wearing it?? Especially with them sweating on the leather??? Not going to lie, I laughed when I saw that oversight.

And that’s the end of the scene. Alright. The scene is not good. But it’s not Fifty Shades of Grey bad. I get the jokes and the comparisons, and while PB is arrogant, much like EL James, PB isn’t THAT bad. MC is clearly into the BDSM, which Anna clearly was not in 50 Shades. PB did a little bit of research, but I find it pretty obvious that aside from dirty talk, they have almost no experience actually getting into kinky activities, nor do they participate in the community.

I really hate how they acted like, “Ethan’s in dark mood…” but didn’t commit to that. Also how they didn’t really commit to portraying BDSM accurately. It’s kinky looking if you aren’t in the kink community, but to me, it’s vanilla pretending to be edgy and kinky. PB didn’t really commit one way or the other. They seemed to just use some iconography (excluding collars, surprisingly… that’s really easy to add??) and a little bit of kink, then set it aside and called it a day. This seemed to be there for the shock value. Going into the scene, I felt like SCC was being broken, but in the midst of the scene was a very different tone from what PB was acting like was going to happen. Ethan felt very different going into the scene as opposed to during it. I feel like this is what happens when you have to market kink to a mostly vanilla audience. Anyway, if you want a really great educational youtube channel, Evie Lupine is doing the lord’s work as a BDSM educator. Thank you for reading this 2500+ word rant from a kinky nerd.

#playchoices #open heart #choices oh #choices open heart #choices ethan #choices ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #choices ethan x mc #ethan choices #play choices #submission

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whumpster-fire · 3 years ago

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Safety in a World of Daemons

So one really scary thing about a world of corporeal daemons is just how vulnerable it makes you. Everyone basically has two bodies, one of which is often much smaller and more fragile than a human body, and a lethal injury to either of them will kill you, and also you can’t be more than a certain distance apart or you’ll suffer excruciating pain / lose consciousness. Now, while Lyra’s world has a decent amount of modern technology like internal combustion engines, electric lighting, plastic textiles (aka coalsilk), and nuclear power (atom bombs and “atomcraft” get mentioned it seems like it’s socially The Good Old Days when child labor was widespread and OSHA didn’t exist. But what safety measures would a more modern society develop to keep humans and daemons safe?

Seatbelts developed and came into wide use earlier in Lyra’s world compared to ours, compared to the development of motorized vehicles. The myth of being “thrown clear” of a crash could never take hold to nearly the same extent, because people may not understand the forces involved in being flung through a windshield and skidding a hundred feet across pavement and the damage that does to your body, but everyone has an intuitive understanding that if your smaller/lighter daemon sitting in the front passenger seat bounces off the windshield, or ends up in the footwell, or gets “thrown clear” a hundred feet across pavement in a different direction, you’re probably going to be lying unconscious in the middle of the road. Cars typically have modular restraint systems to accomodate different daemon forms. Daemons should NOT stand on the dashboard, on the seat headrest, on their human’s shoulder, or on their human’s lap while their human is driving.

The “Drybox.” This is a device which can be used to keep small daemons with non-cold-tolerant forms safe from hypothermia in water survival situations. It’s basically an airtight container or bag you can put your daemon in and seal off, that’s connected to a pair of one-way valves with the inlet valve connected to a mouthpiece. This is meant for situations like airplane (or zeppelin) water landings. The way it works is you breathe in through your nose and breathe out through your mouth into the tube. This will push air out the outflow valve, and completely replace the air in the container in a few breaths. Yes I’m aware that you breathe out CO2 which is toxic. Exhaled air is about 18% oxygen and 4% CO2, and breathing extra rapidly might result in more oxygen and less CO2 in exhaled air. 18% O2 is roughly equivalent to going up 5,000 ft in altitude, and 4% CO2 is below the levels that cause suffocation, so a daemon shouldn’t die from breathing air that’s been through human lungs once for a few hours. It would definitely feel awful to use one, but it’s safer than a daemon in the form of a small animal being soaked to the skin and half-immersed in cold seawater while bobbing up and down in the waves. Some versions can be connected to an oxygen supply or a manual pump instead.

If you are on an airplane or helicopter and the oxygen masks deploy (not a zeppelin, they don’t go high enough to need them), put your own mask on first, and put your daemon’s mask on second before you mess with anybody else’s. If only one of you has oxygen then you’re going to pass out but the one who has oxygen will be functional for a bit longer; therefore it is in your best interests for the one with opposable thumbs to get the mask first. People with monkey daemons please stop arguing with flight attendants about this. If your daemon has a form that can’t easily wear an oxygen mask, there are quick-connect adapters available, as well as containers that a smaller daemon can climb into, but these may be slower to use. In some cases it is best to form a “Buddy system.” If you have a trusted friend or family member seated next to you whose daemon can easily wear an oxygen mask, it may be safer to put their daemon’s mask on before your own to make sure they remain capable of putting your masks on. Yes, you will have to break the taboo to do this, but that’s better than death or brain damage from hypoxia. Some bird forms can get enough oxygen at high elevations that they don’t need a mask. For your safety, most national aviation regulations require that you declare your daemon’s species when purchasing a ticket and only sit in your assigned seat, so that you can be placed in appropriate seating and be provided with any specialized safety equipment you need prior to the flight. Children with unsettled daemons must demonstrate that they have the ability to memorize and follow an evacuation plan that includes changing to an appropriate form.

Daemons have no need to ever wear collars to identify themselves, but it’s surprisingly common to see larger daemons that can’t be carried by their humans wearing a harness and a brightly colored leash. This isn’t a fashion statement, it’s a safety device. Most humans and daemons are always careful to keep track of where each other are, but it’s not foolproof, and when boarding a train, or an elevator, or a bus or streetcar, in a crowded place where you might be distracted and everyone else is distracted, there is a risk of your daemon being caught on the other side of a door from you. If you are boarding or getting off a bus or train or elevator or anything like that, and you see a leash caught in a door, you slam the nearest emergency stop button IMMEDIATELY.

There are a lot of other environments where people and daemons need to be physically strapped or tethered together - e.g. whitewater rafting, boating. If they can’t be attached to your life jacket, then unless they can fly they need to have their own life jacket and be tethered to you, because otherwise getting swept apart by rapids or current could pull you out of range, and falling off a motorboat going at, like, 30 mph or faster could pull you 50+ feet away from them faster than either of you can even react to jump off after each other, and even with a life jacket being in the water and unconscious or incapacitated from pain is really fucking dangerous.

Same goes for climbing. I don’t care how good a climber your cat or squirrel daemon is, or if they can survive massive falls without injury, because if they free-fall five stories then either you will lose your grip and fall, or end up dangling limply from a rope.

Lockout Tagout systems are designed so that anyone accessing dangerous machinery has two keys, one for themselves and one that their daemon has to wear at all times. If your daemon is too small to wear the key, then they have to be in a locked cage that is physically attached to you, and the key to the cage is attached to the lock that you lock out the machine with. Mechanics’ daemons have a habit of crawling into tight spaces to look at things their humans can’t see or reach, or retrieve dropped tools, and at some point at least one idiot took their lock off while their daemon was still in a hazardous area and got a safety regulation made in their honor when somebody else turned on the machine.

Yes, your daemon needs eye/ear/respiratory protection in the shop/construction site. Unless your daemon’s shape completely prevents you from performing essential job functions (like a crocodile daemon and you need to climb ladders) your employer cannot terminate or refuse to hire you based on your daemon’s form, and they are legally required to provide you both with appropriate safety equipment.

#his dark materials fandom #daemons #Fantasy OSHA

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spiderling-space · 4 years ago

Note

I’d like a Halloween request please! Did you know many people believe on Halloween the borders between worlds are at their weakest? Can you please do a ficlet of a Yandere Malleus taking advantage of the border between our worlds being weak on Halloween to drag the MC back to Twisted Wonderland many years after they managed to get back to their homeworld?

I thought it was the door between living and dead but I’ll go with multiverse. Ngl putting my works to AO3 made me want to write longer ficlets but the story will decide the length itself.

Italics indicate thoughts

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

Warning: Yandere tendencies, mentions of PTSD and night terror, panic attack

It had been 7 years since (Y/N) managed to escape hell or as it was officially called Twisted Wonderland. It took lots of therapy sessions and support from their loved ones for (Y/N) to feel normal again. It took over a year for them to have a good night’s sleep. Waking up screaming from nightmares was their nightly habit in year 1. It took them 2 years to finally go out just by themselves and 3 years to date someone again.

(Y/N) finally moved on, breaking free of their chains that were called Twisted Wonderland. They had a job, moved out of their parents’ house, spent Friday nights out with their friends, get on Tinder, go on dates and have one night stands. Life was good again…

Today was Halloween night, the night they could wear the weirdest outfit and no one would bat an eye. (Y/N) and their friends went to the party downtown and got drunk. (Y/N) called Uber to get back to their apartment after saying goodbyes to their friends. They locked the door after getting in their home and threw their shoes to the side. After chunking 2 glasses of water, they went to their bedroom.

(Y/N) just wanted to sleep, dreading to remove makeup and wear pjs since it was too effort so they threw themselves to their bed, closing their eyes. Sleep was taking over but there was this crackling sound that was preventing them from sweat dreams. On top of that, a light was coming over to their face. Is it morning already? I just need 5 more hours. (Y/N) put their pillow over their head to ignore the light and the sound and it was working since they stopped. Finally, on to the dreamlands! Their happiness was cut short as they felt something touch their arm, stroking up and down along their bicep. Well dear bug, I'm just gonna ignore you. No sir, I’ll finally sleep. They were so certain that it was just a bug until a hand rested on their cheek. Oh shit! It’s a burglar or killer or a rapist! They couldn’t just lay there and risk getting hurt. He opened their eyes and grabbed the extra pillow on their bed, swinging it to the other person in the room as they got up and put distance between them. But there was something wrong. The pillow didn’t land on the invader at all, in fact, their arm was frozen in mid-air and the invader wasn’t holding them either.

Alarms bells started ringing in their ears, recalling the last time something like this happened. No No No! It’s impossible! Crowley said it was a one-time opportunity! (Y/N) started taking short breaths as their heartbeat quickened. They finally looked at the invader, taking in the figure for the first time. The room was dark but the lights from outside illuminating enough to see the invader’s outline. The figure was tall, as tall as him. They were dreading to look up to the figure’s head, afraid to see horn shape and making them confirm their suspicion but they had to do it.

Their palms started to sweat as finally looked up to the figure’s head. Horns… Their arm that was holding the pillow started to tremble as their mouth felt dry. (Y/N) just wanted to run but their body didn’t move.

“Hello, Child of Man,” His voice caused shivers down their spine. “It has been a while.” Malleus moved to stand right in front of (Y/N). “I missed you.” He placed his hands on each side of their face, connecting their foreheads.

His touch was burning their skin, they just wanted to get away from him. “Don’t touch me!” (Y/N) yelled, feeling helpless as they couldn’t move to push him away. They were feeling nauseous, maybe from being near him or maybe it was the alcohol or they triggered one another. “How did you get here?!”

He ignored their question. “All these years passed yet you still throw tantrums.” He was talking as if they were a toddler. “Don’t worry anymore, you can finally return home.”

“This is my home! Not Twisted Wonderland, certainly not your kingdom!” (Y/N) felt faint but they were trying their best to stay conscious. They were hoping this was just a nightmare, their night terror making a comeback but deep down they knew it was the reality.

“You are not well, Child of Man. Are you perhaps as excited as me to be together again?” (Y/N) didn’t know if he was deliberately ignoring what they were saying or was he so fucked up in the head to not realize that they hated him?

“FUCK YOU!”

Malleus’ expression turned sour and the aura he gave became darker. “That is not how one should speak to their betrothed.” He was tut-tutting them as if they were a kid who did something they shouldn’t have.

“WE ARE NOT ENGAGED! I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” (Y/N) tried to move their arms once again to push Malleus away but it was a futile attempt.

What (Y/N) had said must have angered him since he furrowed his eyebrows and his hold on their face tightened. “I hoped you would stop acting like a baby after all these years but it seems you’ve never changed. Worry not, Child of Man, since you will learn how to behave once we go back to Valley of Thorns.” He let them go both physically and magically. Their arm dropped to their side. Malleus was rummaging their stuff. “You will not be needing any of these since I’ll provide you anything you need, my love.”

He is distracted, if I can make it to the kitchen, I can get a knife and at least defend myself. When his back was turned, (Y/N) bolted out of the room, “(Y/N), stop.” But something prevented them, making them stop in mid-motion. “Come here.” Involunteeringly, (Y/N)’s body turned to Malleus and walked towards him. Their mind was screaming to get back but their body was moving on its own as if it was on autopilot. (Y/N) stood in front of Malleus. His voice was soft, almost tender as he was stroking their face. “That is enough of your games. We are going home.”

“No!” (Y/N) tried to take control of their body once again which ended with failure.

Malleus turned to look at the body mirror in their bedroom. He extended and twisted his hand, muttering some words as the mirror started glowing. “(Y/N),” he reached out to hold their hand. “Walk with me through the window.”

(Y/N) was helpless as their body did what it was told. Soon after, they landed in Malleus’ castle in Valley of Thorns. All those memories crashed down upon them. All the things that were done to them there flashed through their eyes. They started to panic again and it only got worse as Malleus tried to calm them. When he understood his words won’t work on (Y/N), he used his magic to calm them down. “Finally you have returned home, my love.” Malleus planted a kiss on their lips. “This day shall be celebrated every year as this night brought us back together. I believe you humans call it Halloween. We shall rename it in your honour and celebrate it in the Valley of Thorns.”

(Y/N) knew there was no way to get back to their world now. They would be stuck with Malleus forever or until they died.

All I ever wanted was to have my own life and be with whomever I want. Why can’t I have that?

————————

The reason why saying the name worked

#malleus draconia #diasomnia #prefect #gender neutral reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere twst #twisted wonderland yandere #yandere #twst malleus #yandere twisted wonderland #ficlet

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lorei-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t be.

Kenshin x MC Hurt/Comfort Warnings: alcohol, toxic extended family

Information: This time I bring you an MC struggling with (newly reinforced) insecurites - and Kenshin who tries to soothe her.

A gift to my dear @cailann, who also happens to like rain and a certain bunny lord.

Odd coldness seemed to emanate from the corridors of his estate, steps of his relatives still vibrating through the hallways, their words hanging low in the air. Kenshin gritted his teeth, his muscles tightening at the very memory of their visit. As if to rid himself of the residual anger, he strode towards the training hall, his fingers twitching to curl around the hilt of his sword. Never once looking back, he kept his gaze high, ceilings appearing to be more important than matters flickering at the border of his consciousness. Whispers slowly turning into shouts, he clenched his fists, guilt mixed with strange sort of anxiety pooling low in his stomach – he should have foreseen this, he should have prevented it, he shouldn’t have let them… Wind ruffled the leaves outside, first drops of rain hitting the stone paths. Kenshin opened his eyes wider, his mind slowly waking up.

Kenshin ran, a clap of thunder spreading though him, waves of fear propelling his body. She was out, wasn’t she? Was she…? He didn’t want to think. His feet carrying him forward, his mind seemed to evaporate, changing its form into a mix of sorrows and worries – some of which he could have attempted to ease ahead of time, some of which were out of the reach of his hands. His fingers reached over to the clasps keeping his cape in place, opening them dexterously as drops fell over his head and wet his hair. He did not care – how could he, when her life was in…?

Kenshin stopped. She was there, her hands held up as to shield herself from the rain. Fabric of her kimono sticking to her body, she rushed through the downpour, seemingly blindly so, her feet threatening to slip on the muddy road at any moment. He called her name, her face turning towards him as their eyes locked – and she was with him, although he couldn’t quite tell when she fell into his chest, his arms holding up his cape above their heads. “Kenshin?” she noted in surprise, not quite understanding what was happening in the snippet of world around them. “Let’s get back inside. You’re soaked,” he murmured, clarity beginning to wash over his mind. She nodded in reply, gusts of winds passing by prompting cold shivers to run up and down her spine. Her fingers curling into his kimono, they marched forward, struggling as not to walk into anybody. Weather becoming sterner with each passing second, the cape ceased to offer them any shelter, wind seemingly parting the fibres and seeping through thus created cracks – or so his mind told him, his lover trembling while holding onto him, static slowly creeping at him, waiting for a single opening to overwhelm his senses… “Kenshin? You don’t look well,” she voiced her concerns. Akin to hundreds of tiny bells, her voice rung in his ears, pulling him away from falling into the abyss of anxiety. “Yes,” he steeled himself, castle gates emerging in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere.

The door to their bedroom closed behind them, stray droplets of water wetting the floor with each of their steps. Kenshin hung his cape hurriedly, the fabric creasing where it shouldn’t have – he didn’t care, however, his hands already searching for dry towels. Reaching out to pass one to her, he froze, her eyes looking away from him while she struggled to hide herself behind her arms. His mind stung as he remembered the words spoken to him a day earlier, his hand itching at the memory alone – yet it was her who mattered in the moment, not him. Kenshin spoke her name softly, her gaze refusing to meet his. “Look at me. Please,” he uttered, his request not being granted. He took a step forward, his fingers brushing against her cheek. She leaned into his touch, letting him guide her. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have cared about it to begin with,” she laughed faintly, her lips twitching as she struggled to bring a smile to her face. “You… Have a meeting with them, don’t you? You should hurry.” “I do not,” Kenshin stated curtly. “My family left at night.” “You can’t push people out whenever they speak poorly of me,” she snorted out and glanced to the side. “This matter can be dealt with via correspondence.”

Silence fell between them, air growing thicker as her lips pressed into a thin line. Her shoulders tensing up, her voice slipped out of her lungs. “They did not lie, though. I am useless. I couldn’t even be a pretty accessory, even if I wanted to.” His heart sunk, his fingers tracing a path down her arm as to entwine with hers. “You’re not useless. I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” he uttered, clasping her hand. “You wouldn’t?” As if to answer her, Kenshin brought her palm to his lips and kissed it, then proceeding to move onto her wrist and past it, her sleeve rolling up as to expose more skin. His caresses spreading up to her neck, he showered her in feverish affection, seemingly aiming to claim her inch by inch – until savoury taste marked his tongue, bringing any doubts out of their hiding. Kenshin pulled back, shining tears flowing out of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she forced out of herself, feelings choking her voice down. “Don’t be. We’ve already discussed that.” Perhaps she fell, perhaps some force pushed her – whichever it was, she found herself nestled safely in his arms, few bitter sobs escaping her lungs. She let them, her lover rubbing soothing circles over her back, her hands grasping onto his clothes. “You should have come to me the first time it happened. This castle is as much your home as mine.” “Mhmm,” she hummed, seemingly beginning to relax. “Let’s… Let’s get changed. It’s getting cold.”

She still tried to hide, he noted – although she seemed to have relaxed, her movements becoming less stiff. Dry yukata hugging her form, she let her arms fall by her sides, a faint smile coming onto her face. Kenshin took a step forward. His hands on her shoulders, he pulled onto her collar to open it slightly, his lips finding themselves on her collarbone, a red mark soon blooming over her skin. He straightened his back, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Should I kiss you some more?” “Yes, please,” she whispered, standing up on her tiptoes.

The distance between them shrunk as they collided, greedy of shared affection. As if fearing she’d disappear, his arms snuck around her waist and pulled her forward – the feeling being seemingly mutual, his lover cupping his cheek. Their foreheads still pressed against each other, they parted to satiate their hunger for air. “Since you’re free now… Would you mind joining me for a round of sake? We could watch the rain fall. The gardens look very pretty at times like that…” she whispered bashfully. “With pleasure.” A smile lit up her face – and his heart warmed, threatening to melt.

Droplets of rain fell from the sky, fresh water pooling in peony buds, moisture gathering over their petals. The world hummed, wind – previously seemingly so stern and cold – rocking tree branches, leaves ringing like bells. The pond seemed to have awakened, its surface rippling with each caress sent from the clouds. Kenshin lifted the cup to his lips, burning sensation spreading over his tongue. He looked down, gentleness sneaking into his gaze: there she was, the only woman he loved, smiling at the world around them. Her shoulder brushing against his, he tipped the bottle to pour her another drink. She turned to look at him – and he wished the moment could last forever, a feather-light kiss being bestowed upon his lips. She was his everything.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @jiyuu-chan, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @plumpblueberry , @nimeryaa, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom

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#kenshin uesugi #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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stillebesat · 4 years ago

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Beneath the Moon -part 2

December Drabbles Day 21 Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman…Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the…supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk, Gun Mention Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Part 1

It was simple.

Or, at least Logan hoped it would be simple.

He’d read so much literature on how werewolves needed to be chained up, locked away, and prevented from roaming free in order to keep them safe from themselves and from other people…that he wanted to try the opposite.

“So let me get this straight.” Roman said, leaning against a statue in his back garden. “You’re just going to stand there...and let the change happen without tying yourself up?”

Logan took a breath, trying to not feel self conscious as he placed his shirt on a nearby bench. “Yes.” He probably should have taken all his clothes off if the stories were true that they would be rags by morning...but he already felt extremely self conscious with just his shirt off in front of his--his frenemy. It felt--he felt too...vulnerable. “My theory is...is that if I just...accept this. Accept that I will change into a wolf and not try and fight it. I will retain more of my...humanity.”

“If you shift.”

Logan nodded, rubbing his arm with his good hand, glancing to the horizon. The moon should be making its appearance any minute now. “Yes. If I shift.”

Would it have to fully emerge before something happened? Or would just the smallest of slivers cause the change?

“And you need me---”

“Mostly for your wall.” Because Roman’s family had placed a large stone wall around the perimeter of their property years ago for privacy. With nearly a dozen acres stretching out behind his home, it should hopefully be enough space for Logan to roam around comfortably without feeling...trapped.

“My wall.”

“To keep me contained…but also for---for--” Logan exhaled, forcing himself to look at Roman’s shadowed form. “If this goes badly, I hope your aim with a gun is as good as the news proclaims it to be.”

Roman made a face, one hand dropping to the handgun at his waist as he took a step forward. “I don’t hate you enough to kill you, Logan. No matter if this werewolf thing actually happens. You won’t die tonight. Mark my words.”

Logan shivered, taking a step back to keep his distance as he again glanced to where the moon should be. Was it getting brighter over there? “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ro.” He whispered, narrowing his eyes. It did appear to be lighter than before. He swallowed, feeling his heart rate pick up.

Any second now.

Would the first light of the moon cause the change? Or did it have to be fully risen?

He brushed the unhealing wound on his hand. “I don’t know how...human my mind will be if this happens. I may just try to kill you.”

Whether it was to defend himself or because he would feel the need to hunt...remained unknown. Logan just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. At least he hoped his childhood friend could get to safety before anything...happened.

“Ha.” Roman scoffed, drawing Logan’s attention back to him as he deliberately drew closer. “I doubt you’d be coordinated enough to do so.”

Possibly. Logan shook his head, again retreating away from his childhood friend. Just because Roman believed nothing would happen didn’t mean that he should try and approach until after they established he wasn’t going to become a wolf.

And if he did…walking on four limbs would be something he’d have to adjust to. It would be completely different from being on two legs and it wasn’t exactly something Logan could practice at. At least not well, because he had tried to experiment and figure out how walking on all fours would go back at his apartment. He’d even created and tied a makeshift tail around his waist, but after watching dogs playing in the nearby park, he knew that the extra limb would be far more active than the limp thing he’d made.

Logan drew in another shaky breath, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he kept his attention on Roman. “You don’t know that.”

There were just too many unknowns in this. Too many tidbits of information that couldn’t be confirmed as fact or fiction.

Would it hurt? It had to. All the stories said it would. Would it burn? Probably. Every account described it as such. But then again, it wasn’t like the authors in the YA Supernatural section of the library had ever personally experienced a transformation themselves. Since werewolves weren’t supposed to exist it wasn’t like they could know just how this change would affect hi--

“Lo.”

He looked up, stiffening as Roman grabbed his shoulders. “Ro--” He choked out, lifting his hands up in an attempt to push his childhood friend away, his heart climbing into his throat at his sudden proximity. He shouldn’t be this close!! Not when the moon should--he tried to look over his shoulder to find the moon, but Roman’s palm was there to catch his cheek, keeping him from turning around.

“Lo.” He repeated softly looking into his eyes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Logan mutely shook his head. The moon had to be rising. It had to be! And it didn’t feel like he was okay. It felt more like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Walking the line between the impossible and insanity. Either he was right or he was crazy. It wasn’t--it wasn’t comforting and he didn’t--he couldn’t---an icy chill ran down his spine as soft white light washed over Roman’s face.

Roman squeezed his shoulders. “Trust me.” He said, amber eyes suddenly shifting to a bright blazing gold as he abruptly turned Logan to face the horizon.

To face the rising moon.

To Be Continued. Part 3

#Beneath the Moon #December Drabbles #Sanders Sides #Logan #Roman #Logic #Creativity #Werewolf!Logan #Werewolf!AU #gun mention tw #death talk tw #bite wound tw #shooting talk tw #December Day 21

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kpop-zone · 4 years ago

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A Little Longer pt.3 | Jennie

Warnings: indicated smut, mentioning of blood, a few curse words, alcohol abuse

Wordcount: 4,765

A/N: Sorry guys for the mini hiatus, I just got really caught up writing this and forgot writing anything else. This story is still not finished, but I really wanted to post something, so here’s Part 3 for now. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

Part 1 Part 2

Jennie giggled silently as she stumbled through the hallway to the living room.

“This one looks like a butt.”

She laughed when she looked at one of Jiyong’s paintings. Fascinated, she paused in front of it while taking a few more sips from a bottle that she had stolen from the kitchen. Loud chatter from the living room, however, reminded her again what she was doing here in the first place.

“Oh right, I can’t let the nobs wait.”

Shakily, Jennie continued her way until she reached the entrance of the living room. The guests inside were all engaged in a lively conversation and their happy faces were disgusting her. They were all so pretentious and selfish. After another hefty sip from the bottle, Jennie put it down in the hallway and stumbled into the room. Not everyone noticed her right away but after she accidentally ran into a cabinet in the process of trying to walk straight, all heads turned the same time. Jennie tried her best to play it off, but when she noticed your gaze resting on her, her knees felt even weaker than before. The way to her seat suddenly seemed to be seven miles long; especially because the whole room was spinning. But eventually, she plopped down on her chair, feeling the eyes of the other guests burning holes into her.

“Excuse my interruption, I haven’t eaten anything today and was feeling a little dizzy.”

Jennie uttered tediously, feeling like her tongue was heavy like lead. Sheepishly, she let her gaze wander around the faces in the room. Some were still staring at her skeptically, but soon all of them flashed her a reprieving smile before returning to their conversation.

“Back to what I was saying. I think that actress must be an arrogant diva. Denying a fan an autograph? As if she didn’t owe her whole career to her fans...”

The same man that had made the inappropriate comment about your plus one (Jennie refused to call her your girlfriend) scoffed, and Jennie couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Usually she was already used to dimwitted remarks like that, but the alcohol had unfortunately lowered her level of tolerance.

“Yeah right, because she belongs to the public, doesn’t she?”

Jennie snarled, feeling her bottled-up emotions threatening to burst. The guy looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of him, apparently not being used to someone talking back.

“No, that’s not what I meant. But celebrities hold a certain responsibility that they can’t just discard.”

He responded self-opinionated, causing Jennie to laugh bitterly. She was tired of people making her feel like they were omniscient and had complete power over her.

“Responsibility? Responsibility for what? To make a wimp like you feel powerful?”

After Jennie’s statement the whole room fell quiet. Her words had been harsh, but they were true, so she didn’t even think about apologizing. With a triumphant smirk she looked into the dumbfounded face of the guy, watching how he struggled with his words.

“Jennie, you must be drunk. We don’t know you like that.”

Hyerim, another one of her so called “friends”, broke the silence in order to safe him from further embarrassment.

But Jennie had had enough of this.

Everyone at this table could go to hell as far as she cared. They were stuck in their own little worlds, too occupied with themselves to try to emphasize with someone else. And she couldn’t stand being in such a toxic environment right now. Therefore, Jennie pushed her chair back with force, causing it to loudly fall over before storming out of the room without any further explanation.

“Such an asshole!!”

She yelled in the hallway after slamming the front door shut before weaving to the elevator.

This whole dinner had been a dead loss and Jennie regretted having talked Jiyong into hosting it. Angrily, she kicked against the elevator door because she had to wait way too long to finally be able to leave this godforsaken place. But even after she had left the building, Jennie couldn’t calm down. The alcohol had failed its purpose to make her numb and had stirred up all her emotions instead. It felt like her whole system was overheating. Her brain was working at full capacity, her heart was slamming against her ribcage and all of her senses were desperately trying to fight against the influence of the alcohol.

Therefore, Jennie had to take several breaks on the way to her car as her stomach needed to get rid of the toxic liquid that was clogging her system. With shaking hands, she eventually reached the car and rummaged around in her handbag until she pulled out her car key to unlock her car. It almost slipped out of her hand, but after fidgeting a while, Jennie finally managed to press the right button. Just when she was about to open the door though, she suddenly got yanked around.

“You’re not driving like that.”

Out of nowhere, you were suddenly standing in front of her, your voice being able to freeze the ocean and your face absolutely unreadable.

“Let go off me!”

With a harsh movement, Jennie ripped herself free from your grasp and huffed in annoyance.

“Give me the key.”

You said calmly while holding out your hand, but Jennie wasn’t even thinking about giving it to you.

“No.”

Childishly, she wrapped her fingers even tighter around it and hid it behind her back.

“Could you please stop behaving like a five-year old?”

Your patience seemed to run out and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Could you please stop meddling in things that are none of your business? Just go back to your perfect girlfriend.”

Jennie bickered back, apparently striking a nerve according to the sour expression on your face.

“Leave her out of this.”

You snarled, but Jennie’s torn open wounds and the alcohol in her system prevented her from knowing her limits.

“Why? Is she even too good for me to take her name into my mouth? I mean, I understand. She’s really beautiful and her clothes weren’t cheap either, so she has to be wealthy. Must really be a little Miss Perfect.”

She could see that you were gritting your teeth in anger, but you kept calm.

“Just give me the keys, Jennie...”

You sounded like you were tired of this charade, but Jennie was in full spate and didn’t want to stop now.

“We shouldn’t do this to Miss Perfect. You should go back to her and tell her what an awful person I am. Isn’t this why she is here? So you can spite me? To make me realize what a failure I am and-“

Jennie didn’t get to finish her sentence before you finally snapped and cut her short.

“Oh cut the self-pity! You know why she is here tonight? Because she was there for me and you weren’t!”

You huffed in frustration before turning around and storming off, leaving Jennie alone in front of her car.

Why couldn’t you have said that Subin was there because she was prettier than her? Jennie even would have accepted if you had called her nicer. No words could have hurt her more than the ones that you had used.

She was there for me and you weren’t.

Of course, Jennie hadn’t been there for you. How could she have? She had chosen her career over you after all. The one time, Jennie could have proven her love for you, she failed to. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and a silent sob escaped her lips. She just wanted to go home now and lock herself in her dark bedroom forever.

With her shoulders slouched, Jennie turned around to get into the car, but once more, she was stopped last minute. Someone yanked the keys out of her hand, causing her to look back in shock.

You again.

“Get in the passenger seat.”

You growled and this time your face wasn’t unreadable. Anger was written all over it and even your voice trembled, carrying the power of your emotions. Immediately, Jennie realized her limits and obediently walked around the car to get in the passenger seat. After fastening her seatbelt, she turned her head to look at you insecurely. She had never seen you like this before. Your eyes seemed to be spitting fire and your knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

Maybe this night hadn’t only taken a toll on her.

Faster than usual, you sped through the nearly empty streets of the sleeping city while Jennie didn’t dare to utter a word. There didn’t seem to be anything left of the weak pushover that she had toyed around with during your last encounter. It seemed like it was true what people said. What didn’t kill you, did make you stronger; at least you could be the living proof of that. After all the games that she had played with you, all the wounds that she had caused you, you were finally standing up to her.

It was the perfect wakeup call. What had she been thinking? She had promised Jiyong that she would accept your decision tonight. No matter whether you would decide to give her a chance or not. And Subin was a very clear sign that you were not willing to mend things with her. But instead of keeping her promise, she had made a scene like the selfish monster she was. In shame, Jennie let her head hang and bore this suffocating silence, knowing that she deserved your anger. It seemed like the ride home lasted all night, but after an excruciating long time, the steady noise of the engine finally ceased, and you parked the car in front of her apartment.

There were a thousand things that Jennie wanted to say, but she didn’t have enough courage to do so. She just wanted to stick to her initial plan and hide in her dark bedroom forever. Therefore, Jennie quickly threw open the car door and bolted out of the car. The front door of the building was close, yet so far for someone that had an undefinable cocktail of diverse liquors in their stomach. Jennie’s legs just didn’t work like they were supposed to, and she could only just feel her knees giving in when her face already moved towards the ground in a rapid pace. Before it was about to collide painfully though, something wrapped around Jennie’s waist and stopped her fall. She felt herself getting straightened up again and she turned around in confusion, only to find herself standing face to face with you. You were merely inches in front of her to the extent that your torsos were touching; yet you weren’t moving away. Your feet were firmly planted on the ground and Jennie felt shivers running down her spine due to the proximity. Automatically, her gaze flickered to your lips, feeling an unbearable desire to close the distance. Only the knowledge that you were seeing someone else right now was holding her back. But why weren’t you pushing her away? Could it be that you wanted this too? Jennie’s face moved closer to yours like your lips were magically drawing her in. You still didn’t push her away; it would be so easy to get the taste that she was craving.

No.

Jennie jumped back as if someone had just scared her. You were taken. She wouldn’t seduce you. Jiyong had told her that you were finally happy, and she couldn’t selfishly temper with your happiness. Not again. Regret filled Jennie, thinking back about the breakup and the incident at Jiyong’s vernissage. She had never even apologized to you.

“Y/N, I’m s-“

She choked out but she didn’t get to finish as you pressed your finger on her lips.

“Sh.”

You shushed her, causing her to look at you with wide eyes.

You almost had a smug look on your face, leaving Jennie completely confused. But you didn’t seem to care about an explanation. Instead, you suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the entrance of the building. Perplexed, Jennie let you drag her and stumbled behind you without talking back. Together you stepped into the empty elevator, but Jennie wished that someone would be there with you. The tension was making her heart beat five times faster and she gulped thickly when you suddenly stepped in front of her. Like a tiger on the hunt, you silently crept closer, causing her to walk backwards until she reached the wall.

“Why did you get wasted tonight? Can’t you stand to see another woman touching me?”

You asked with a cocky smile on your lips, catching Jennie off guard. She didn’t know what to answer. You were right, but she didn’t want to admit that. Therefore, she tried to shake her head, but her gesture was barely noticeable.

“Did you miss me?”

At last, you had closed the final distance between the two of you and softly pressed your body against hers, causing Jennie to gasp. She could feel your breath on her face, but you didn’t stop moving closer. Your lips were so close that Jennie could almost taste them. But just when they were about to touch, a ringing sound could be heard, indicating that the elevator had reached the right floor. The door opened and you pushed yourself off her with a smirk. Jennie inhaled shakily to recollect herself, but right in that moment, you grabbed her wrist again to drag her behind you. Apparently, her nightmare disguised as a daydream wasn’t over yet. With big steps you crossed the hallway until you were standing in front of her apartment door.

“Unlock.”

You ordered firmly, causing Jennie to flinch.

Immediately, she started rummaging in her bag to search for the keys, but she was too nervous to steady her hands. You had completely thrown her off balance and all the sensory impressions around her were too much for her to take in. In her mind, she still tried to process the scenario in the elevator just now, causing her to lose focus and making it impossible to find the keys. Eventually, you huffed impatiently and yanked the bag out of her hands to get the keys yourself. You merely needed a second before you had found the desired item and cleared the way into her apartment.

Roughly, you pushed Jennie inside before slamming the door shut and pressing her against it. All she could do was to stare at you with wide eyes as you smirked smugly. Slowly, you lifted your hand and tugged a strand of hair behind her ear before letting your finger graze her jawline. Jennie’s eyelids automatically fluttered close due to the sensation and she felt like she was melting under your touch.

“Perfect.”

You whispered, your mouth being so close next to her ear that shivers ran down Jennie’s spine.

When she opened her eyes again, you were staring at her intently and Jennie immediately got lost in your eyes. How she had missed being so close to you. She didn’t know why anyone would ever think that she had power over you when in reality, it was the exact opposite. One word from you and she was quiet; one touch and her heart jumped out of her chest; one look like the one that you were giving her right now and she could feel heat spreading in her core. She just couldn’t bear this tension anymore. She knew that you were having fun right now while teasing her, but she needed to taste your lips at least. Hastily, she leaned forward to grab your hips in order to pull you in, but she grasped at nothing, almost causing her to fall over. You had suddenly taken a step back, causing Jennie to stare at you in confusion.

“Sucks to be left high and dry, doesn’t it?”

You chuckled with an evil smile playing on your lips and Jennie wondered if she had misheard your statement. With her hands still hovering in the air, she stood frozen in place, unable to say a single word, much to your amusement. An ugly laugh caused your chest to tremble and Jennie flinched in shock.

“Oh you are adorable.”

You sighed, although the mockery was not to miss hearing.

“And so, so dumb...”

Slowly, Jennie realized what was going on, but her heart refused to believe it.

“You think, you’re so good, don’t you? You think that just one look will make me fall for you again, right? But you’re wrong. You can’t satisfy me. You never could.”

There was pure disgust in your voice that caused tears to pool in Jennie’s eyes.

“Did you think our little quickie had been enough to make me forget about everything you’ve done? I have always needed more. I wanted your love, Jennie. But a monster like you can’t give me that. I know that now.”

As you kept talking, Jennie felt herself drifting away mentally. She heard your words, she felt them cutting deep into her heart, into her soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to fight back. She didn’t care about the pain anymore. It was what she deserved after all.

“But Subin can give me what I want. She can give me so much more than you. You are nothing but selfish, pathetic and incapable of love. You’ve proven that over and over again. Did you really think, I would ever come back to you?”

You scoffed sardonically, causing Jennie to feel more mortified than ever before. Yes, once again, she had hoped that she could be good enough for you. And once again, she had proven that she wasn’t.

Jennie didn’t know how long you kept mocking her. It felt like hours. Every word dug a little deeper into her chest and in the end, a huge hole was ripped into it, causing a torrent of blood to gush out of her heart. She felt like a ghost and apparently that was truly all that was left of her, because you didn’t bother to let her defend herself. Instead, you turned on your heel as soon as you were done talking and left her standing there in her misery.

Jennie wished that you had just talked a little longer. Maybe your words could have made the hole in her chest consume her completely, instead of leaving behind the zombie that she was right now. Half dead, half alive and the only antidote to her slow death had just walked out of her life.

---

As you bolted through the front door of the apartment building, you gasped for air as if you had been holding your breath since setting foot in this place. What had you done? That couldn’t have been you. You weren’t one to play dirty; much less one to take revenge. But after Jennie had stumbled into your arms and you had seen the regret and desire in her eyes, you knew that she would be an easy victim. For once, you had the upper hand. You could give her a taste of her own medicine.

But it seemed like you had given yourself a hefty sip of it too. There was a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, and you didn’t feel as glorious as you thought you would. You felt like throwing up. You tumbled over in the little front yard of the apartment complex, but nothing left your body. Because it wasn’t your stomach that was rebelling against you. It was your bad conscious. You didn’t know how Jennie could have survived her games with you unscathed. The picture of her petite figure standing in front of you hunched in pain was engraved into your brain now. And even worse, it had carved into your heart too, ripping it into two.

“Damn it!!”

You yelled, ramming your fist against the tree next to you, causing the skin around your knuckles to break open. Blood was dripping to the floor, but you couldn’t care less.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You shouldn’t have feelings for Jennie anymore. But why did it hurt so much right now? Why had you almost discarded your plan and kissed her senseless up there? Yes, Jennie had been your drug. But you had been sober for a while now. How long would it take until you finally had her out of your system? Your world shouldn’t revolve around Jennie anymore, it should revolve around...

Subin.

In shock, you ripped your head up, remembering that you had left your girlfriend at a table with a bunch of strangers after giving a highly questionable excuse why you had to chase after Jennie. Subin knew that she was your ex, but you might have left out a few details concerning your relationship. Your girlfriend knew that Jennie had broken your heart, but she didn’t know that it had never mended ever since. And she should never learn. Therefore, you needed to get back to her. Since storming out of Jinyong’s apartment too much time had already passed, and you weren’t sure whether Subin was still waiting for you there. Plus, you didn’t really want to go back again and explain yourself. It would be for the best if you would just go home and simply send Jiyong an apologetic text for being a bad guest. For now, Subin was your priority.

Determined, you walked to the street, only to curse a second later when you realized that you hadn’t come here with your own car. With an annoyed huff, you pulled out your phone to order a car which would cost you precious time that you didn’t have. But there was nothing that you could do. Reluctantly, you waited for the car before ordering the driver to bring you home. Nervously, you sat in the backseat, bouncing your leg and thinking about the consequences of tonight. How would your girlfriend react? You hadn’t only ditched her, you had ditched her for your ex-girlfriend; who you had almost seduced. Frustrated, you grasped your hair. This was a disaster.

“Rough night, hm?”

The driver chuckled from the front seat and you flashed him a tired smile. You weren’t in the mood for jokes right now. You needed an adequate solution. For one, you had to apologize to your girlfriend. A difficult task, but not impossible. For two, you had to get Jennie out of your system. That, on the other hand, was a borderline insane task which needed thorough planning which you weren’t capable of doing tonight. Therefore, you chose to stick to the easier task for now.

You needed to make an overwhelmingly good apology to your girlfriend and you already knew where to begin with that.

“Can we stop by the next convenience store please?”

There was nothing that a sincere apology and some flowers couldn’t fix, so you ordered the driver to make a little stopover. A quick solution which allowed you to find yourself in front of Subin’s apartment 15 minutes later with a bouquet of flowers in your hands and a drafted apology in your head. You looked up at the building from the car, seeing that there was still light in Subin’s windows and you inhaled deeply to calm your nerves.

“You’ve got this buddy!”

The driver gave you an encouraging thumbs up and you thanked him before exiting the car.

Slowly, you walked up to the entry and let yourself in with the key that Subin had given you a while back. For once, you decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator in order to be able to have a little more time to recollect yourself. When you finally reached her apartment door, you felt more or less like you hadn’t made the worst decisions of your life tonight. Your hands had finally stopped trembling and your brain was able to focus on anything else but Jennie again. Therefore, you unlocked the door and silently slipped into the apartment like so many times before.

Inside, everything seemed to be like usual. The TV was running and Subin was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. Only when she turned her head to look at you, you gulped thickly. She didn’t seem to be seething in anger, but her gaze wasn’t friendly either.

“Hey, babe.”

You waved awkwardly, but Subin ignored you coldly to pay attention to the TV again. She was definitely mad...

With slouched shoulders, you walked up to her in order to sit down next to her, like a child preparing to be scolded. Regardless of her ignorance, you cleared your throat and started to apologize.

“I’m really sorry, Subin. I know this evening was nothing like it was supposed to be and I really deeply regret how I handled everything. But I can explain.”

Carefully, you glanced up to see how your girlfriend would react. She rolled her eyes in annoyance but turned off the TV in order to pay attention to you.

“This explanation better be good. You left me alone with complete strangers, Y/N.”

If looks could kill, you would be dead by now. But you didn’t let yourself be discouraged.

“It is! You know about my history with Jennie. The thing is that I left a few things out...”

Your statement seemed to have sparked Subin’s interest and she turned her torso in order to be able to look at you better.

“I know that Jennie always seems to be a cold person on TV, but she isn’t. She struggles a lot with her fame, and she has a lot of issues that not a lot of people are aware of. But I am. And I know that she tends to deal with her issues horribly. So when I saw her earlier, I got really worried. I was afraid that she would do something rash, which turned out to be right. She was completely wasted and wanted to drive home. And I couldn’t allow that. So I brought her home.”

Technically, you weren’t lying; at least that was what you told yourself in order to not let your bad conscious drag you down again. Maybe you weren’t necessarily telling the whole truth, but you meant well. You were trying to spare Subin’s heart. She didn’t deserve to get tangled up in this mess. You loved her and that was all that mattered. The rest had to be fixed by you alone.

“Oh I didn’t know that.”

Subin simply said and you saw that her angry demeanor was starting to crumble.

“Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t have known! And that’s on me. I haven’t told you the whole truth, because I had the feeling that I still had to protect Jennie. But I don’t need to do that. I’m with you and only you. So I need to start behaving accordingly.”

Carefully, you took your girlfriend’s hand, expecting her to pull away, but when she didn’t, you continued.

“I promise that I’ll work on myself in the future. No more erratic decisions and I promise to communicate better. No more secrets.”

You smiled, but you wondered whether Subin was able to see the shadow that laid upon you tonight. You weren’t yourself. You didn’t know who this monster was that looked like you but didn’t act accordingly. But it was shocking to hear those lies rolling off your tongue like they meant nothing. When had you become a perfect liar? You hoped that it wasn’t too late to save yourself though. You just needed a fresh start. You needed to leave everything behind and forget about the past.

Your salvation significantly depended on your girlfriend though, so you looked at her pleadingly.

“Fine, I’ll forgive you. But don’t you dare to ever leave me alone with your weird friends again!”

Subin chuckled and you laughed out loud.

“I promise.”

You whispered as you already closed the distance between the two of you to connect your lips.

Nothing was in the way between you and your fresh start now anymore.

At least that was what you had thought. But like always, it was so much easier to make promises than to keep them. You wanted to be better for Subin; you really did. You were ready to let go of the past, but what you didn’t realize was that it wasn’t ready to let go of you.

And your obliviousness should turn out to be your doom.

#blackpink scenario #blackpink #jennie scenario #jennie #blackpink imagine #jennie imagine #girl group imagine #girl group scenario #girl group #kpop scenario #kpop

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arhvste · 4 years ago

Text

OIKAWA TOORU - RECKLESS

summary - the high pressure and expectations of your overbearing parents for yourself and oikawa finally become too much for the two of you to handle, your solution? to run away from it all

this is for @totorosleaff thank you for always working so hard and doing your best in everything you do, i’m always so proud of you and always will be 💖💗💕💘💞

pls ignore any spelling mistakes i’ll check them later okay 😌

warnings - minimal cursing

sighing for what felt like the 100th time that night, you mindlessly swirled the pale golden liquid in the gold rimmed champagne glass as you stared aimlessly across the room.

galas.

the bane of your existence.

being the daughter of such high status parents shouldn’t have seemed like a big deal to anyone. growing up, you thought you’d be free to control your own life, own decisions and they’d leave you out of their own business. unfortunately from a young age that assumed freedom was snatched from your grasp and your parents instantly took you under their wing and expected you to play the part of the daughter as they wanted.

a puppet pulled by their strings.

the only decision you found yourself somewhat thankful for was your future husband for the arranged marriage they’d contracted you into.

at first you were furious. they’d already taken so much from you and now they wanted to take the freedom of who you’d spend the rest of your life with? you were livid but forced yourself to conceal the ignited fury inside of you to prevent any out of proportion drama you knew your parents would cause if you were to even try and object.

you first met oikawa tooru a year ago in the spring.

his parents seemed nice enough but you could tell they were putting up a similar façade to what your own parents would put up when meeting people outside your household.

oikawa didn't seem particularly thrilled about the arrangement but he was polite and welcoming to you regardless and managed to get on with it as his parents had told him too.

your future husband confused you. how could he act like he was okay with the whole deal so well? was he not angry? upset? he’d just been told he’s to marry a stranger with no option to protest. surely he must feel some sort of way about the whole deal.

your curiosity about the boy grew as you got to know him.

5 months later and his act slowly but surely began to falter. he didn't force himself to smile as much, he grew evidently more tired, he began to talk less around his parents.

it was one afternoon the two of you were sat in one of the gardens in your own exaggerated and over extravagent house the two of you casually chatted as you watched the koi fish glide through the pond.

you studied the boy as he spoke to you. before you had gotten to know oikawa for what sort of person he was, you couldn't deny the fact he was ridiculously attractive. his hair a pretty mop of brown locks gently swaying about every time he moved his head, his broad shoulders and strong build proved how seriously he took his fitness, his tall frame towering over many others who’d find themselves looking up at him. he had warm but intense eyes that you could compare to pools of honey when the sunlight his his face at certain angles and of course his smile. forced or not, you found comfort in his smile. it was almost reassuring that everything was okay.

oikawa was in the midst of telling you something about his professional team whom he played for when his family business weren’t so demanding.

you were listening you swear you was, but the intruding thoughts about the whole situation about being married to the boy grew louder and louder until you couldn't hear oikawa’s soft silky voice.

“don’t you hate it?”

you cut him off staring at him wide eyed. he turned to face you and tilted his head out of wonder.

“what do you mean? volleyball? no i don't hate it i-”

“-no, no. i mean, this whole thing, don't you just - hate it?”

oikawa was stunned. nobody had ever really asked for his opinion before. sure he had some but he was never really given the choice to voice them.

“i mean, it’s what my parents want so...”

his voice barely above a whisper as you slightly frowned.

“i don't care what your parents want. i’m asking if you, oikawa tooru, feel any type of way about this situation because i know i do.”

the boy thought before speaking. it had been so long since he’d felt like he’d been given the chance to talk freely he didn't want to get his words all tangled and miss the opportunity.

“i did. i really did for a while. i didn't know anything about you. even when we first met i didn't like the situation.”

you nodded encouraging to keep going.

“but then, i got to know you. i discovered that you’re not someone who feeds off their parents wealth, you’re not someone who’s happy to play their puppet for the rest of your life, you’re not selfish and expecting of anyone, you made it bearable for me and that's why, that's why i feel more okay with everything now.”

he breathed out a sigh of relief. the thoughts that had been weighing on him for a long time finally set free out into the open.

“it’s the same for me. i didn't care about you at first. to me, you were just another obstacle in the way of me being able to escape the grasp of my parents. for months i wondered if you ever felt bothered by the arrangement because you never made it look like you did. i noticed though. i saw through your act. i knew you weren't happy, at least not for a while.”

the two of you stayed there like that for a while. neither of you felt the need to speak. the tension finally cleared and the now comfortable silence between the two of you showed that everything that needed to be said had been so.

from that day on, you and oikawa were more reliant and open with each other. you found yourselves more trusting towards each other and decided that even if the inevitable situation held you both captive, you at least had each other to try and make the best out of it.

back to the present day of the never ending gala your parents had thrown, the weight of their overbearing tendencies never once lifted. sure, you and oikawa felt more comfortable together and yes, you felt like marrying the boy was going to be easier now. that didn't change the fact that you were both still puppets for your parents to play with as they pleased.

over a year had passed and the relationship between yourself and oikawa had grown and blossomed. it felt easier being a couple and you felt warm and safe with the boy and he had felt the same but, the fact that you two had to meet under forced circumstances and had a time limit to get to know each other still didn't sit right with the pair of you.

had you of met in a different environment things may have been different. you could've nurtured and embraced the millions of butteries you felt when you were together, your love could've grown so naturally and so beautifully.

as always the opportunity was snatched, your love was forced to grow under intense expectations and while you had managed to eventually catch feelings for each other, this wasn't initially initiated through your own choices.

still, staring blankly across the decorated ballroom you felt two hands lightly ghost over your exposed shoulders. shivering you looked up to see the handsome face of your arranged fiancé who looked down at you with a small smile.

taking a seat next to you, he ran his hand through his messy brown strands and leaned towards you.

“getting a bit tired aren't you?” he whispered as he took his other hand into your own and laced his fingers through yours.

“mhm” you couldn't even bring yourself to speak actual words. the night had worn you out. talking to countless people who you couldn't say you cared about and being dragged about by your parents who’d introduced and bragged about you like you were some sort of trophy to their own acquaintances had really taken the toll on your body as you could feel yourself shutting down as the night dragged on.

oikawa hummed and moved a piece of hair that had fallen to your face behind you ear before leaning in again.

“just a few more hours okay? then i’ll take you up to your room and help you get ready for bed.”

“so considerate of you.” you teased with a lazy smile.

“what sort of future husband would i be if i didn't?”

“a shit one.”

he laughed and squeezed your hand as you both sat up right as your parents approached.

a cold glare on your mothers face and a stern one painting your fathers.

“why are you two sat here when there are guests to be entertained?” your mothers voice sharply cut through the comfortable moment you and oikawa had just shared.

“what would oikawa’s parents think if they saw their future daughter-in-law just slouched over a table ignoring guests?”

you grit your teeth and looked up at the couple before you.

“i apologise. i’ll go see to them now.”

“don't bother. you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough.”

“-but”

“shut up would you. your father and i give you everything and you’re selfish enough to not even put effort in when we ask. everyone here is seeing what a brat you are. just sat here ignoring them like you’re of a higher status. who do you think you are.”

your mother’s words had always been harsh. throughout the years your impression of what a mother should be like had been warped and corrupted in all the wrongs ways. all the fairy tales which included a healthy and wholesome mother-daughter pair in had been shattered by your own mother’s approach to taking care of you. you were often left in the care of nannies who would try their best to nurture you in the way your mother was supposed to, but it didn't feel the same not receiving this type of affection from the woman who had given birth to you herself.

you tried your best to ignore her like you usually did, but oikawa gently squeezing your hand out of concern brought you out of your closed state of mind and your obedient act had been shattered.

“you know what? i’m done. i’m done!” you could almost laugh? were you going insane? perhaps. that outcome could be totally possible after the years of being forced to play a role you never asked for.

“excuse me?” your fathers voice snapped this time as his arms folded over his chest.

oikawa looked almost frighted for you for a split second. what the hell were you doing?

“you heard me. i’m done. this is too much i can’t do it anymore.”

“y/n l/n, you listen to me. you’re going to stand up and entertain your guests and you’re going to be polite and welcoming right now? you got that?”

that was it.

“no. i won't be doing that and you know why? they aren't my guests. they’re yours. i don't care about them or whatever they’ve got to say. i hate it here, i always have i can’t do this anymore.” your voice sharp catching the attention of a few onlookers who were near the four of you.

“y/n, lets just go.” oikawa quietly pleaded not wanting any harm to come to you. you appreciated him, you really did but you knew he’d just want to leave peacefully without causing commotion and right now you wanted the opposite.

“you know what? yeah lets go and never come back. go find a new puppet to play with cause i’m cutting my strings off now.”

your parents stared at you wide eyed. you had never spoken back with such venom before this was new to them.

your father turned to oikawa who now had an intense look on his face.

“do something to control your woman.”

oikawa was usually good at handling tough situations. when it came down to it, he was mature, calm and collected but right now he felt anything but that. his woman huh? just like that a vicious anger lit up inside of him and he pulled you up and wrapped an arm around your waist. the sound of two chairs quickly flinging back caught more attention from even more onlookers now but he couldn't care less.

“excuse you? my woman? with all due respect mr l/n, your daughter is her own woman and i think you’ll find i’m more than happy to let her do as she pleases as she has every right to.”

your heart stopped as your lovers voice silenced your parents. all eyes on the four of you now the conversation that should've happened a long time ago now taking place in front of an audience.

“i see now. maybe you were the wrong choice for my daughter. your parents must be so let down. we liked you at first, a suitable choice to take responsibility for our daughter and her future but i guess not. you’ve deceived us and we’ll be looking to rearrange the contract between you both if you keep this behaviour up.”

oikawa scowled at your parents as he gripped your hand tightly.

“don’t bother, i’m marrying your daughter just like yourself and my own parents wanted but on our own terms. you won’t be attending the wedding. you won’t be there to congratulate us and we won't be expecting any involvement financially from either of you anymore. y/n doesn't deserve any of this. i’ve watched for long enough i refuse to let her be forced to put up with such stupid rules and regulations.”

tears began to pool in your eyes as you watched oikawa stand up for himself finally. he had always been so compliant despite his distaste for certain instructions and situations he was put in. the act you’d seen past months ago, finally dropping in front of everyone to see and you were damn proud of him.

“come on y/n.”

that’s all the convincing it took for you to allow oikawa to pull you away from the scene as the two of you dashed out the crowded room. one hand tightly gripping oikawa’s warm one and the other tightly holding the hem of your stupidly long dress. the doors to the large gathering flew open as oikawa pulled you out of the situation altogether. your dress fluttering about as the wind caught the long fabric, as oikawa broke out into smile as the two of you ran through the halls to find the exit.

behind you, your parents screeches of your names could be heard as they beckoned you to come back immediately. you didn't care though. how could you go back now anyway the damage had been done and you couldn't be happier.

a smile broke out onto your own face as you began to laugh carelessly for the first time in what felt like forever. oikawa glancing down at you, a big genuine smile gracing his own face as he found his own laughter join yours. the situation would've been anything but laughable to anyone else but to you and oikawa, this was the best thing to have happened to the pair of you and neither of you had felt so alive in years.

finally approaching the large doors to exit, your fiancé forced the doors open and grabbed his car keys out of one of the pockets of his now slightly crumpled suit. immediately spotting his luxury car he unlocked it and quickly helped you inside as he threw himself into the drivers seat as the two of you panted heavily.

you turned to smile at him as he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before he started the engine. your parents running out the house screaming for the two of you to halt had oikawa hitting the accelerator so quickly your parents stood no chance of catching up to the two of you.

you both sat there in silence for a few moments allowing yourselves to catch your breath and gather your thoughts over what had just happened. one hand gripping the wheel and the other placed on your thigh he gave it a light squeeze before turning to you.

“we’re gonna be fine.”

and just like that all your worries had disintegrated thanks to his small reassuring words.

you two had no idea where you were going or what you were going to do now but you had each other and that's all that mattered.

you and oikawa had met so abruptly and forcibly that it ruined any chance of you being able to build the love you always wanted to develop gradually but, after getting to know him and seeing he did in fact feel the same way, you both knew that while you two hadn't met under circumstances which you’d prefer, you met by fate and that fate had given you the gift of a love so unique and so mismatched that you didn't even care anymore.

your love with oikawa was reckless but that’s what made it your own.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa oneshot

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enby-hawke · 4 years ago

Text

For I Have Sinned-Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Renewal

Word Count: 14,555 (lol shoot me)

Tw: elf fetishization bordering on non-con but not a major theme, homophobia

Ships: Malcolm/Leandra, Maurevar Carver/Mara Hartling

Follow on AO3

Carver never wanted to be a Templar, but his mother and father had the heir, the spare, and then some, so Carver was dedicated while he was still in the womb. They were proud of their Templar lineage but they didn’t know the sacrifices they forced Carver to make. Carver made them because it was his duty, and he did so with a smile. Even if he hardly saw his family outside of the many duties that filled his days.

No, he found he didn’t have much in common with his parents, who were not even Templars, or his brothers. In all respects he carried their name, but they were just strangers to him, that tried to control his life, and used his good standing like a trophy in their collection.

And there was a disquiet in him as he wielded power over mages. Chantry rhetoric claimed mages were not people. They were classified as living weapons, and yet they cried the same tears, bled the same blood, had the same fears, died just as easily. And he resented how many who he worked with used that power to harm. Carver didn’t know a better way than the Circle, but he often wondered if what they were doing was actually effective, as blasphemous as that statement was.

He found few Templars that agreed with him and counted many mages as friends, even if there were rules that said otherwise.

The fact was that Carver was given the keys to the prison and was free to leave his position at any time. But only through the Chantry could he get lyrium he needed, and he could only get lyrium if he remained a Templar. He thought of leaving, but his own leash held him place well enough.

“I hate to bring this up,” Carver said hesitantly as they started pulling into the streets of the docks towards the Templar station where he’d need to park his car. “But you should clean up your face before we get back. We’ll be caught for sure.”

Carver knew Malcolm better than the family that had given him up, knew him almost as well as he knew himself, even when Malcolm tried to keep secrets from him. And there was no denying that Leandra had changed Malcolm. Malcolm smirked often, but tonight on his face was a true smile, the usual frown lines and sarcasm had gone. He had been humming the songs that they had been singing all night, and had been serving as the radio for Carver as they drove through the streets of Kirkwall. There was no chip on his shoulder, no snarl to his words. Leandra had sanded down the edges until all Carver saw was a happy man in love.

And Carver was scared for them.

Malcolm laughed pulling down the mirrors as he inspected the red smears, wiping his face clean with his sleeve and a bit of magic when the lipstick remained stubborn. Malcolm seemed sorry to wipe off the evidence of the night.

Carver reached into the middle compartment and tossed Malcolm some mints. “Your breath smells like alcohol. Take care of that.”

Malcolm dutifully popped a handful of mints in his mouth, probably not enough to completely cover the smell but it would help.

Carver knew mages were dangerous. He had lost a few templar brethren hunting down apostates, but among the heavier death toll, mages were always the higher casualty, not that his brethren saw it that way. Still, he thought long and hard, trying to find ways to prevent the same tragedies.

“So we should get our story straight,” Carver said, as he pulled into his personal parking space which was marked and always clear for him. Carver could see Malcolm squirm in his peripherals, his lips getting tight as he sucked on his mints but he volunteered nothing. Carver turned off the car, stalling the engine so only ships at sea could be heard. He locked the door before Malcolm could get out and the way Malcolm glared made him look like a cornered wolf. “I know I initially tagged along because I wanted to keep that asshole in line, but I know you’re key to the investigation,” more squirming, some hunching. “Though I still need to interview the other mages at the party, I’ve been reading reports all night and no one seems to know more than you do.”

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Malcolm’s voice was tense in the admission. He played dumb like he always did.

Carver sighed. Obviously a lie, but calling him on it would only make him more evasive. He kept his eyes on the Templar station, an intimidating fortress that imposed the Docks, guarding a private train-line that went over the water and into the Circle.

“So what do you know?”

Malcolm went quiet. Carver glanced over, seeing a hundred thoughts scattering through his mind.

“It was nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he finally said.

“Nor I,” Carver said, worried about that admission.

Malcolm’s hands twisted as he picked at his nails. “What’s going in your report?”

Carver knew it was against the rules to tell anyone, let alone a mage under his care, what he told the Knight-Commander, but he could understand why Malcolm was scared. The Knight-Commander wasn’t the most tolerant of mages, and often criticized Carver’s approach in spite of the results Carver brought. “Only what’s necessary,” Carver hoped that would reassure him but his friend remained tense.

More silence, an internal debate in Malcolm’s head as he decided what to tell.

Carver waited in patience, his gaze expectant.

“The Veil was sundered and torn, but not only that, corrupted,” Malcolm finally said. “I don’t know how but it seemed like the Fade was leaking into reality, like they were merging together.”

That didn’t sound good. He wanted to know how Malcolm knew this but instead he asked, “What could cause that?”

Malcolm avoided Carver’s gaze. “Something dark and ancient and powerful.”

Carver cocked his head unsure of what that meant. “Like a Tevinter magister?”

“Worse than that, dude.” Malcolm laughed uneasily. He actually looked scared. “I don’t think you can arrest this.”

Carver considered what he meant and then it hit him. “Are you saying a demon did this?” Malcolm flinched, keeping silent but Carver knew he was on the right track. “What kind of demon?”

“Terror,” Malcolm admitted. “And it’s big and hungry.”

Carver then realized. “Did you fight it in the Viscount’s Palace?”

Malcolm’s golden eyes blinked up in surprise and he chewed on his lip. “I did, but it’s strong.”

Carver wondered how many battles he was fighting alone, and he knew Malcolm was too prideful to ask so he said, “It sounds like you could use help.”

Malcolm sputtered as if embarrassed. “I don’t think you can help with this, dude.”

If Carver had ego it might have been wounded, but he simply smiled. “It’s my duty as a Templar, and if this demon can sunder reality it is a danger that must be vanquished.”

Malcolm looked uneasy, but he didn’t argue. “So, what’s going in your report?”

Carver knew he shouldn’t but he said, “I think it important the Knight-Commander knows that a dangerous demon is hunting. We need to be prepared.”

Malcolm turned to Carver, pleading. “Don’t say I jumped into the Fade.”

“It’s an important detail,” Carver said, “and impressive as well. You could probably teach your own class with the types of spells you seem to always come up with.”

Was this just because he didn’t want more responsibility? Malcolm’s eyes said otherwise. He recognized someone begging for his life. He had seen it too many times in the countless Harrowings he oversaw.

“It really isn’t,” Malcolm insisted. “Just say we fought a terror demon that opened a rift into the Fade. That’s enough.”

Carver was uncertain. He wasn’t comfortable with lying, but this seemed important to Malcolm. “And then we spent the night chasing it,” Carver finally agreed, seeing Malcolm’s shoulders finally relax. Still, Carver knew there was a huge piece missing from the puzzle, and it somehow had to do with Malcolm, but he knew Malcolm, and he could see him closing himself off like a vault. He had hoped the alcohol might be enough to loosen that tongue, but Malcolm was the most stubborn man he knew. He prayed it wouldn’t lead to casualties. “You’ll tell me what I need to know before it hurts anyone else, right?”

“Of course. Trust me,” Malcolm nodded.

“I do,” Carver said with a grimace. “I just wished you trusted me.”

Malcolm looked hurt by the accusation. “Of course I trust you.”

“But you won’t tell me what I need to know,” Carver said bitterly. He didn’t like how many questions he was still left with.

“I did tell you what you need to know,” Malcolm’s voice was defensive. “The demon will die, soon, and everything will go back to normal.”

Carver doubted that with the evidence he had seen that night, but he knew that would only lead to an argument. So, instead he placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You don’t have to fight your battles, alone.”

Malcolm said nothing to this, but he made a tight nod.

Carver sighed finally unlocking the door and getting out of the car.

Carver left his car at Templar station and they boarded the train, watching the water over the ocean in companionable silence as the tower of the Circle approached. Dawn was just starting to rise over the ocean cut off by the ugly tower that jutted into the sky with its red Circle flags waving in the ocean wind as bronze slave statues curled into themselves against the ocean spray, weeping.

Carver felt sorry that the night was over. He could already see that Malcolm was getting antsy approaching the Circle, his fingers drumming on his legs in a steady beat. He seemed wound up with energy still from the night, which he guessed was good since he probably only got a few minutes of sleep.

Soon they walked off the train and into the courtyard which was still empty, but it would be filled with Templars doing drills. Dawn had broken and so First Bell wouldn’t be too far. Before Malcolm walked back to his room Carver stopped him by a hand on the shoulder. “Remember your promise to Leandra. No lip, and work on your grades.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Malcolm rolled his neck, cracking it nonchalantly. He said it like he was brushing it off, but Carver couldn’t help but notice how alert he was, his posture straighter with a confidence that carried him with every step. As Malcolm walked away, Carver thought this might be the first time Malcolm actually might consider taking something seriously, and he couldn’t help but think he’d have to find more ways to thank Leandra, if for no other reason to bump into that rather whimsical cat-eyed woman who had mischief in her smile.

As Carver made his way down the Templar quarters he found his mind wandering back to Mara. He had met many beautiful women, but Mara had a spunk to her that set her apart and made her shine. He was rather impressed that she stood up to her own man for Malcolm and her loyalty to her lady seemed to go beyond just duty. Admiration. That’s what he told himself was stirring inside him. Any other considerations he had long since buried, but like a stubborn weed, irresponsible thoughts were unearthing.

Carver knew those were thoughts that would go nowhere. He was Knight-Captain, second only to the Knight-Commander. He had a responsibility to his wards and his comrades to be sharp and undistracted and while Templars were not forbidden to marry very few found the opportunity nor the time. Carver himself barely had time in the day to eat so to fully commit to anything like a romance seemed out of the question. Plus, it was clear she already had a man. Still, he hoped Mara would find someone more worthy of her wild adventurous spirit. And the way she inspected him with that scrutinizing stare as he performed for her left a shiver in his spine. He remembered the sassy way she called him “Officer” that stirred something primal in him and he was left unbalanced when she grabbed his arm.

He shouldn’t have allowed the picture. It could ruin everything, but Mara smelled so good he was left dizzy and his spine turned to jelly. And when Gamlen yanked her back from him it took everything not to punch him and ruin the night Malcolm worked so hard for.

It was not his place. Carver was only there to protect Malcolm, nothing else, and he felt a little ashamed that he was even thinking such things. He needed to focus, make sure that Malcolm doesn’t ruin what little standing he has left by taking reckless chances. But he couldn’t help but wish the song he sang Mara was a little longer and that Gamlen had stayed on that curb so he might find an excuse to talk to her again.

The door to the Knight-Commander’s office was intimidating, high reinforced steel bars with a heavy plaque of the red Chantry sun, as if they needed another reminder who ruled over them. Carver went to knock on the door to find that it was slightly ajar, muffled voices coming through the door.

“Knight-Commander, we need to consider that this might have been an attack on the Amell’s or the De Lancets. We need to reinforce security, pull from the Guard if necessary to ensure the nobility’s safety.”

Carver gritted his teeth. It was clearly Meredith’s voice coming from the door. Normally he would commend Meredith for her proactive thinking. She was remarkably fast at getting the men to secure the ballroom, but she made it clear to Carver that she was gunning for his job and he was sure this was just going to be another attempt to undermine his command.

Carver knocked twice before letting himself in, cutting off the Knight-Commander’s reply. Both the Knight-Commander and Meredith’s head flung in Carver’s direction. Knight-Commander Guylian stayed behind his desk, an antique oak with heavy legs, his pale skin popped against the dark leather. He was an older man with a prominent nose, lips so thin they were barely visible and dull grey eyes. He looked fully rested compared to Meredith whose bags from the all-nighter she pulled darkened her creamy skin.

“Good, I’ve been expecting your report,” the Knight-Commander nodded.

“Finally,” Meredith scowled as the Knight-Commander motioned for Carver to come in, but she kept her usual barbs to herself for now.

Carver glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 6am. He was not late. Still, he couldn’t help the anxiety creeping up his neck as his Commander stared him down, waiting for him to spin his tale. Carver had become good at lying though, years of meditation and duty hardening him into a beacon of calm.

“Before I go into my report I want to recommend an official reprimand be marked on the Knight-Lieutenant's record.”

Meredith went red, eyes widening in outrage. “What for!?”

Carver felt himself mold into the role of Knight-Captain and addressed her while keeping his eyes on the Knight-Commander. “Instead of assessing the area for culprits she assaulted Taylor Filene. Such behavior will sow disorder and dissent in the ranks.”

“But Taylor Filene might be a culprit,” Meredith barked back.

“Regardless,” Carver continued. “There are procedures if you have suspicions. Threatening your wards in plain sight of the nobility is not.”

The Knight-Commander waited patiently studying both templars under the comfort of his cushioned chair. “This is true. The public must not see such things, Knight-Lieutenant. Our public image must be maintained.”

That was not Carver’s point, but he knew that arguing that it should not be allowed at all would get him nowhere. The Knight-Commander could be a harsh man, himself, and Carver needed to toe the line.

The Knight-Commander tapped his desk with his finger. “But considering the stress of last night I believe an unofficial reprimand will do just fine. Just see that it does not happen again.”

Meredith nodded, suppressing a triumphant smile. “It won’t, Knight-Commander.”

The Knight-Commander leaned back inspecting Carver again. “Now, where did you disappear to last night?”

“I’ve made an unexpected discovery in Malcolm Hawke’s testimony. He was able to identify that it was a terror demon that sundered the veil at the party and he is assisting me as I hunt it down. The hunt took me all over Kirkwall.”

“You had an unsanctioned mage assist you in an investigation?” Meredith sneered, echoing the concern on the Knight-Commander’s face. “Without backup?”

“The Fade interference messed with our electronics. There wasn’t time,” Carver lied quickly, “But I witnessed myself as he closed the rift in the Fade with his magic and calmed the spirits enough to go back, a feat no mage in this Circle I know to be capable of. Without his help, we might have had a bloodbath on our hands. Unsanctioned he may be, but his help may prove invaluable.”

“That oaf? He’ll make a mockery of this investigation,” Meredith sneered.

Carver expected that from Meredith but still he couldn’t help but ask a question he knew the answer to from his reports, “Knight-Lieutenant, what is the status of the Veil?”

Meredith’s lips thinned into a red line. “It appears to be stronger than before.”

Carver kept the grin off his face. “So should I issue you a ‘thank you’ to Malcolm myself or will you?”

The Knight-Commander stared at Carver and he wondered if the uneasiness on his face was suspicion or something else. “Demons do not usually affect the world without outside help. We should not discount Meredith’s theory that this could have been an orchestrated attack on the Amells or De Lancets.”

Carver grimaced. He wasn’t sure if Meredith was right, but he knew from the smirk on Meredith’s face that she would use this more to swing her iron fist.

Then the Knight-Commander asked, “How exactly did Malcolm heal the Veil? I thought using magic only weakened it.”

Carver knew he had to omit a few details but he wanted to keep as close to the truth as possible. Easier to keep track of the lies that way. “He claimed it to be an aura he developed to calm spirits,” he could tell from the look on their faces that they had questions about that and so did he, but instead he distracted them with something else, “I believe he has the potential to be a Spirit Healer. From my observations he seems to be sensitive to their presence.”

Meredith and the Knight-Commander shared a look. Spirit Healers made contracts with beneficial spirits to draw upon great healing magic, the kind that could bring men back from the brink of death. They were incredibly rare and watched ever closely by the templars because of how similarly they functioned to blood mages, and how easily they fell to temptation, but because of their beneficial nature they were still highly sought and prized by the Circle. He could see the arguments warring both on Meredith and the Knight-Commander’s faces.

The Knight-Commander seemed conflicted. “It would be a boon for the Circle, but what makes you think the elf would even do it? He seems insistent to sleeping his potential away.”

Carver put on his most convincing smile. “Give Malcolm a chance. He’s already proved last night he is capable of much more than he’s letting on.”

Meredith slammed her hand on the table startling both the men. “Absolutely not,” she snarled. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

The Knight-Commander’s eyebrow twitched and Meredith reddened, retracting her hand.

“Is that not for me to decide, Knight-Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ser,” she simply responded, her eyes on his desk.

The Knight-Commander leaned forward, resting his fingers on his chin as he thought. “I have an opportunity in mind, but I have reservations about his abilities but since Malcolm managed to not offend anyone at the party…” His calculating gaze locked on Carver as he made his decision. “The Amells and De Lancets will be here for their interviews as well as their Cleansing. If Malcolm can perform without offending them, I may consider speaking with the First Enchanter to rework his curriculum.”

Carver nodded. “I’ll make sure he takes this opportunity seriously.”

The Knight-Commander’s blue eyes were like a faded cloudy day. “See that he does. The Amells are high patrons of the Circle and if they are not satisfied with his performance, neither will I.” It sounded like the threat it was.

Carver nodded, gritting his teeth, a sinking feeling in his gut about how far Malcolm’s place was falling in the Circle. He needed to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t fall further. Still, Malcolm was one of his best friends and he knew him well enough to know that he would not be thanked for this. But, dangling Leandra seemed to work before. Surely, it would work again.

Mara’s kitchen was a small but cutely decorated space, with duckling wallpaper and colorful appliances and cartoony knickknacks, some that Leandra had gifted over the years. On the fridge was a homemade frame of a picture of a fishing trip with the family when Mara’s parents and grandma were still alive. Leandra, Gamlen and Mara’s grandfather were also in the picture. He was a pale red-headed elf with green eyes and mischief in his smile. The rest of the family shared Mara’s chestnut hair and her dark unhooded cat eyes. Mara and he were both holding large rainbow trouts, Mara’s slightly bigger and she was rubbing it in Leandra’s face since she had only managed to catch a small minnow which she still showed proudly to the camera.

Everyone in the family was laughing, their faces in half-blurs as the Hartlings were never ones to sit still. Only Gamlen remained looking out of place as he glowered at the camera, hot and uncomfortable and always letting everyone know about it. Still, that day was perfect, and the memory of it kept Mara going on her darkest days.

Leandra stared at her phone, sipping at her coffee, her belly full of fried rice, bacon and eggs, helping to stave off an oncoming headache. She had spent many nights sitting at this counter, staying up gossiping with Mara and tonight was no different. Though the pain of exhaustion made her question if anything about the night was real, Mara was there to confirm every detail. And there was more evidence, in her picture, Malcolm was pressing against her cheek, looking as dazzling as in her dreams except now she had the memory of his clover musk that she sorely missed. She didn’t recognize the smile on her face, or how Mara let her hair get so messy, and now that she was slowly sobering up, she realized she was dumbstruck by her own actions.

She realized with profoundness, that she would repeat everything exactly the same. She had never felt so brave except at Malcolm’s side and now that he was gone the whimsy of the night was over. The reality of her fiancé and her parents were coming back to her. She’d need to face them, soon.

“He really fills out that suit, doesn’t he?” Mara hummed, placing her chin on Leandra’s bare shoulder.

Leandra hummed in agreement, admiring how Malcolm’s suit cut a striking silhouette, until she registered what Mara said and smacked her playfully on the arm. “Eyes to yourself, lady, he’s mine.”

“Oh, please, your man’s too skinny,” Mara waggled her eyebrows. “I was talking about Ser Herculean Statue.”

“Mara,” Leandra guffawed, scandalized. “What if Gamlen heard?”

Mara pulled away, rolling her eyes as she departed for the sink in a hasty retreat. “I’m just looking. It’s not like I don’t catch Gamlen’s eyes wandering. Neither of us are blind, y’know.”

Mara seemed tense at the mention of Gamlen, and she immediately began scouring the pots to put in the dishwasher. Leandra bit her lip. She knew that they spent at least fifteen minutes talking in Mara’s room before Gamlen decided to take a nap and Leandra was unsure if Gamlen would bother to show up for the Cleansing. Mara and Gamlen were still together, but for the first time Leandra was unsure about their future and she could see how uneasy this was making Mara.

Mara washed off her cat eye makeup making her eyes look more almond shaped and they were red from tiredness, but Leandra looked at the irritated rims of her eyes and knew she had been rubbing them. Her lips were paler and a more natural pink and her hair was still damp from the shower she had. She looked much more comfortable in her baggy t-shirt that looked like it belonged to Gamlen at one point and plain plaid sweatpants.

“How are things with Gamlen?” Leandra asked hesitantly.

Mara’s shoulders tensed before she opened up the dishwasher and deposited the pan with some force. “Oh, it’s peachy.”

Leandra abandoned her place at the counter to saddle up beside Mara to help her wash. She picked up a stray plate and started rinsing the grease from it.

“Your mother will kill me if you ruin your manicure doing servant work,” Mara took the plate away from her to take over but Leandra just picked up another.

“Who cares about my mother? We’re talking about you right now,” Leandra sniffed as she scrubbed off some stubborn onion that was sticking to the plate. Leandra’s polished white-tipped pointed nails were soon covered in bacon grease. Leandra gritted her teeth. “You know he’s my brother, but you can always be honest with me.” Leandra met Mara’s uncertain gaze as she paused to bite her lip. “About anything.”

Mara took the plate from Leandra, placing it in the dishwasher. She was silent, but Leandra could tell there was something Mara was keeping from her. “Promise not to tell, Gamlen?”

“I won’t say a word,” Leandra nodded, abandoning the chores to give Mara her full attention.

Mara tucked a wet strand behind her ear as she leaned her back against the sink. “I’ve been with Gamlen for as long as I can remember. I know I love him but…”

“But…?” Leandra echoed as Mara trailed off.

Mara kept her eyes to the ground. “Seeing the way you are with Malcolm…maybe I’m a little jealous.”

Leandra dropped her mouth. Mara? Jealous of her and Malcolm? She was blushing at the idea considering the years she spent in envy in the reverse position.

“I just met Malcolm last night,” Leandra blubbered. “You and Gamlen have had a solid relationship for years. Malcolm and I are too new to even label our relationship. And the fact that I’m about to be married in two months, you have nothing to be envious over.”

Mara looked at Leandra biting her cheek. “See that’s the thing. Malcolm looks at you like he’s seen the sunrise for the first time. I’ve never seen a man look so devoted,” Mara looked sad, meeting her gaze hesitantly. “And you have never looked so happy beside him. I think you found something real. And I want that…”

Leandra felt a rush of warmth at the thought, before her rational mind took over and started tearing the fantasy apart. This was too new for her to even name what she was feeling for him. She was still engaged. Very, very engaged, and though she was angry at her parents, she wasn’t so angry that she would throw her whole future away over one wonderful night, no matter how perfect everything felt. Still, as she looked at her friend’s uncertainty she knew she had to reach out for her hand and ask, “You don’t think you have something real with Gamlen?”

Mara froze, her eyes dropping again. “I...don’t know.” Then she forced a grin, “He gives me a real headache.”

Leandra laughed in spite of herself, but she knew Mara was just joking to avoid talking too seriously. “I won’t lie and say I don’t want you and Gamlen to work, but if you’re unhappy-”

“I’m not,” Mara said a little too quickly and returned to cleaning the dishes. “I’m probably just still mad about last night. Just ignore me.”

Leandra could sense the broiling emotions under Mara, but she nudged Mara’s shoulder with her own before returning to the dishes. “You’re hard to ignore, Mara.”

A pleased smile pulled on Mara’s lips, her cheeks blushing just a shade pinker.

Suddenly Leandra’s phone rang from her purse, and Leandra wiped her hands on the hand towel and went to retrieve it. She recognized from the chiming wedding bells that it was Guillaume. Sure enough his name with the screen photo showing Leandra and him on one of their dates to their favorite restaurant at la Rose’ de Safran, a ritzy Orlesian place where their portions were smaller than their wine glasses. She couldn’t help but take a moment to compare how fake her smile seemed as she posed with him keeping a professional distance apart even as they held hands.

She let only one more annoying bell ring before she answered the phone, her voice cloaked with peppy energy even though she felt so exhausted she was sure she’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter. “Guillaume, what a surprise. Why are you calling so early?”

Guillaume’s slightly Orlesian accent filtered through the speakers, grating her nerves with anxiety even though his voice was calm and soothing. “I heard you had a fight with your parents last night and I wanted to help if I could.”

She was touched and suddenly flooded with guilt. Guillaume was still her friend and a true one and she was deceiving him. “I’m not sure how you could help, but thank you for the thought,” she almost mumbled the words as she struggled to keep herself calm and breathing even.

“I thought I’d offer you a ride to the Cleansing if you would like, to give you more space between your parents. We can get a cup of coffee and talk.”

It was just like him, incredibly thoughtful, and the confusion about what the right thing to do was made her dizzy and hesitant. Usually talking with Guillaume would unburden her, but she immediately thought of Malcolm and the jealous look in his eye and how badly she just wanted to belong to only him. How she wanted to come clean and tell Guillaume the truth right there. Would he judge her? He never had before?

But she wouldn’t. She still didn’t even know what was happening to her heart, and all these urges to make irrational decisions scared her.

She took in a shallow breath. “You’re right that I’d rather not face my parents,” she admitted, not wanting to say yes, but the thought of a car ride lecture all the way to the Circle was less preferable.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Merveilleux, I’ll be at your house in less than ten minutes.”

“Actually come to Mara’s.”

Leandra tried to get Gamlen out of Mara’s bed plush polkadot duvet but he was snoring so forcefully he was ruffling his bangs. After shaking him firmly once he told her to ‘bugger off’ and she decided she wasn’t going to do what she normally did and fuss over him and drag him to his duties. He was a full grown man. If he wanted to let his aura fester that was his problem.

She texted her family’s group chat to not send the car to Mara’s because Guillaume was picking her up and though she expected an argument over that she didn’t get one. Just a firm reminder to not be late. She tried to distract herself with social media, but soon enough all the congratulation messages and worried ‘are you ok?’ messages about her betrothal ball found her sorely missing Malcolm.

She wished she could post that picture, let everyone know of the wonderful man she found and share her happiness, but she would hurt Guillaume deeply and knew she would get no congratulations. So she traced Malcolm’s lips with her thumb, wishing things were simpler so she could just enjoy this feeling.

Soon Guillaume’s town car pulled into Mara’s driveway and Guillaume stepped out.

Leandra stiffened, brushing herself off as she approached him, smiling in greeting. She couldn’t miss the way his eyes raked her from head to toe taking in her look. She told herself she should appreciate it. Mara had worked hard helping her pluck, smooth out her hair, paint on her face and vet her outfit. Still, she wished that Mara had clothes that didn’t always cling so close or reveal so much. It was almost impossible to find something appropriate to meet her future in-laws in.

“Are those Mara’s?” His tone was appreciative.

She tucked hair behind her ear as she shyly hid her figure behind her purse. Normally Leandra’s day wear consisted of airy dresses that were modest but fashionable, but today she had on a loose black knit sweater that hung off her shoulders and a bold peacock patterned pencil skirt that hugged every curve. She was still wearing her red heels from last night since her feet were too small for Mara’s shoes. “It looks awkward on me, right?”

“Not at all,” his smile gleaned as he stared appreciatively at her bare shoulders. “I’d say it’s a fetching look.”

No blush came to Leandra’s cheeks but instead she made a strangled sound in her throat.

Guillaume opened the door for her, chuckling. “I’d say I left you speechless, my lady.”

Leandra chuckled nervously as she ducked into the car.

He soon joined her on the other side, the cabin cozier than she wished it. He nestled in close and it took all of Leandra’s willpower not to shy away from him as he took her hand. His hand felt wrong, too large, too imposing. It didn’t feel at all like comfort though she wondered if it ever did. His amber eyes burrowed into her in questioning. “So what happened with your parents?”

She didn’t feel at all like sharing but she did because she thought she should. “They tried to fire Mara.”

Guillaume made a dramatic gasp into his spare hand. “No, they can’t.”

“I said they tried. I rehired her,” Leandra found herself looking at the window rather than at Guillaume, if only so she would stop catching him staring at her shoulders.

“That was quick thinking, ma chérie,” Guillaume squeezed her hand. “Do you need any financial assistance in the matter? I would be happy to lend any assets.”

Leandra felt herself get hot and quickly said, “No, no, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head so violently her ponytail swayed from side to side. “I’ll have to cut back on a few expenses but Mara is more important than frivolous things like spa days.”

“Maker,” Guillaume shook his head. “You are a stronger woman than me. I need my spa days.” Guillaume laughed at his own joke and Leandra joined in politely until his laugh trailed off and was replaced with a silent tension. “Ma chérie, I have a confession to make,” his voice was as tense as his shoulders.

Leandra turned to face Guillaume, her gut plummeting. “Yes?”

“You know my mother is a very religious woman,” Guillaume looked at Leandra, and then tucked a hair back in place fondly. Leandra withheld a shudder. “The haunting has spooked her. She thinks it’s a curse on your family and she wants to call off the wedding.”

Leandra blinked, her heart fluttering and she almost caught herself smiling but she knew from Guillaume’s face that this was a huge source of anxiety for him and she felt herself being pulled by two ropes. She knew she should say something and he was expecting her to, but she was trying not to thank the Maker out loud so she did so in her head. She schooled her face into a frown, and said, “How terrible,” as convincingly as possible.

It worked because Guillaume brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “We have to convince her not to.”

This time she did shudder. She knew she should agree and try to use this car ride to strategize but Leandra felt her shoulders dropping. “Do you really want to?” she actually asked. She clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the question escaped. She could see the hurt written on Guillaume’s face and he dropped her hand.

“Of course I do! Do you?”

“I…”Leandra tried to make her face unreadable but her voice was caught in her throat and she hesitated and this time he noticed.

Guillaume immediately straightened his shoulders like a soldier. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing!” Leandra blurted. “Guillaume, you’re wonderful, it’s just…” she gulped, trying to find the words and still feeling the effects of the residual alcohol in her system she found herself being a little more honest than she usually dared. “We were promised as kids. Do you not ever wonder if there is someone else out there? Someone perfect for you?”

Guillaume’s shoulders dropped, looking defeated, and his eyes actually watered before he turned away. “I thought you were perfect for me.” Then his jaw clenched, his mustache twitching. “Did you find your perfect someone? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Leandra didn’t realize she was such an open book, and she had forgotten how well Guillaume could read her. “No,” she shook her head and clasped both his hands like she used to try to reassure him even though her words were dripping with lies. “It’s nothing like that, just pre-wedding jitters.”

“Because I’ll back off,” he continued looking hard at her, inspecting every minute reaction. “Just be honest with me, Leandra.”

Her heart was suddenly in her throat as she tried not to squeak. She wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything, but there was a hardness in his gaze that made her quiver. Was she really going to ruin her future her parents prepared for her over a man she had only met last night?

She opened her mouth and said, “Let’s find a way to convince your mother not to call off the wedding. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

She had no idea if she made the right decision, but the way Guillaume’s shoulders relaxed made her breathe easier. Did he notice that she did not say no? He had already seen through her the first time. She wasn’t sure how convincing she was being.

Guillaume patted her hand fondly and said, “That’s why we’re getting coffee. It’s always good to start a negotiation with a bribe.”

Leandra smiled, feeling it unnatural on her face. She had no idea how to act around Guillaume now that he was suspicious and she was trying her best not to give anything else away. She let him hold his hand as he pitched his ideas of what they would say and she nodded along as she panicked. Little did she know the Maker had twisted fate to test her a little more that day.

Malcolm had a skip to his step as he walked to breakfast, whistling so merrily that the sound echoed through the stone in an unnatural cheer. Nothing could darken his mood; no ugly sneer from a templar, nor the bars on the windows or the winter chill in the air. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, actually filled with what he needed for his day's study, though his textbooks were vandalized with doodles and blasphemy.

He was still flooded with energy from Leandra’s kisses and the wheels in his head were working in overdrive to figure out a way to escape again. Could he manage it, tonight? Two breakouts in a row would be risky. He was so in his head, planning and scheduling details he didn’t notice that people were pointing and gossiping about him as he waited in line for breakfast. He found Taylor and Charlie in the usual spot on the corner table where they were looking at him in confusion and worry.

“Are you alright?” Taylor’s eyebrows knitted together as she picked at her bowl of porridge mostly untouched.

Instead of Malcolm’s usual brush-off he just pulled his thick eyebrows together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Charlie and Taylor shared a look before Taylor said, “You disappeared last night after the haunting. I feared the worst.”

Malcolm shrugged. “Carver brought me along on an investigation. Nothing serious.” He wanted to tell them the truth about Leandra but Charlie was probably the biggest gossip in all the Circle. If Charlie even got a whiff that Malcolm was seeing someone, everyone would know by lunch.

Charlie broke out in an excited grin. “Nothing serious? Are you kidding? Rumors are you saved everyone last night and now the Knight-Captain is recruiting you personally to help?”

Malcolm tried to remain nonchalant but he couldn’t help the puff in his chest. He really felt like things were turning around. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I’m kind of a big deal now.”

Taylor shook her head, though even she was grinning. “Don’t let that head get too inflated with hot air. If it wasn’t for Carver you’d have gone home with the rest of us.”

Malcolm harrumphed. That was true but she didn’t need to say it. Malcolm scooped up his porridge, the sludge looking cold and unappetizing, but with a grin, he weaved a subtle spell in his mind and scooped the porridge into his mouth. Instead of a bland mush he felt a bursting array of sweet, tart strawberries and cream and he groaned in ecstasy as his tongue remembered the feel of Leandra’s kisses caressing him. He immediately licked the spoon clean and scooped up another generous helping, groaning again. The texture was off, lumpy and slimy, but that was something easily ignored.

Taylor and Charlie stared in confusion. “The food here is not that good.”

Malcolm grinned offering his hand to Taylor. “You got to try this new spell I made. Take my hand.”

Taylor stared skeptically at the hand, being the butt of too many pranks to trust it. “I don’t think so,” she wrinkled her nose.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. He could have cast the spell directly on her but if he was caught casting spells outside of class that would be more trouble. So he moved his hand to Charlie. “Take my hand, dude.”

Charlie grabbed it without hesitating. “Sure.”

Malcolm changed the spell slightly in his mind channeling it into his friend. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Now, try a bite.”

Charlie hesitantly took a bite of his porridge before his eyes bugged out in amazement. Then immediately one handed he started gobbling up his food so fast he was getting it on his face. He was hardly breathing as he inhaled bite after bite.

Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what I had for dinner last night.”

“How is it still steamy?” Charlie’s full mouth was dripping with mush.

Taylor leaned forward, suddenly keen and interested. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Malcolm tried to hide the pride in his voice but he had to thank Scholar for the idea and all that talk about what taste is. This new deal with him had really gotten Malcolm’s wheels turning. “It’s a simple illusion spell, actually. Even Charlie can manage it.”

Taylor cocked her head as she started putting it together. “Illusion? You mean you’re substituting visual stimuli for gustatory?”

Malcolm blinked in confusion. “If that means I tweaked the illusion spell to focus on my memories of good food then yes.”

Taylor muttered, doing some calculations under her breath. “So if any memory will work then…” She dipped her mostly untouched porridge and took a bite, her violet eyes watering. “I haven’t tasted Mamae’s matzah since I was a girl.” She blinked back the tears before they could fall and she stared at Malcolm with a newfound respect. “Malcolm, this is absolutely brilliant.”

“Thank you, I feel brilliant,” Malcolm grinned. “Think Enchanter Jakoby will take the spell as extra credit?”

“I don’t see why not?” Taylor went to take another bite before she stopped blinking back at Malcolm. “Why are you asking about extra credit?”

Malcolm suddenly felt embarrassed, like he was caught doing something weird. “Dunno…just thought it would be a good idea.”

Taylor beamed at him with a knowing smile. “I think Enchanter Jakoby would be proud, too.”

If Malcolm’s skin could go red, it would. “That’s not what it’s about,” he muttered, scooping a lobster infused porridge into his mouth with his free hand to avoid talking more.

“You said I can manage it?” Charlie asked, still gripping Malcolm’s hand. He looked at the last bite of his bowl like he was sorry that he had eaten it so fast. “I can barely light a candle without sweating. How am I supposed to do something so complicated?”

Malcolm squeezed, feeling odd that he was holding a man’s hand, or anyone’s hand other than Leandra’s, but the gesture didn’t feel out of place. “It’s not complicated. You just need to practice. I’ll help.”

Charlie sniffed, rubbing off some of the porridge on his face with a napkin. “Thanks. It’d be nice to eat some nice food before I get tranquilized and can’t appreciate it anymore.”

The table went silent at the thought as Charlie scooped up the last bite. Malcolm and Taylor both looked at each other in worried silence as Charlie savored it. Finally Taylor leaned in and placed her hand over Charlie’s fist. “You’re not getting tranquilized.”

“You don’t have to humor me,” Charlie said stiffly. “I overheard the templars talking. There’s no way I’ll survive the Harrowing.”

“They’re just bastards. You can,” Malcolm said earnestly, though his voice sounded frail in his anger. Carver had managed to put off Charlie’s Harrowing for as long as possible while Malcolm and Taylor tutored Charlie in their spare time and his magic had improved steadily, but he was not built for fighting. Now his Harrowing was any day, and they waited each night wondering if today was the last.

“Passing the Harrowing is all about believing in your own ability,” Malcolm said. “You can’t let these doubts shake you.”

“They’re not doubts, dude, they’re facts,” Charlie’s voice was not laced by melancholy but filled with pragmatism, like he had already accepted his fate and that twisted Malcolm’s gut.

It was times like these when Malcolm wanted to burn everything to the ground.

“I knew you two were fairies,” a sneering voice said behind them. Malcolm and Charlie dropped hands blushing to find that Matthew, the Templar, had approached their table and from the look in his eyes he was in a cruel mood.

Malcolm opened his mouth to give lip but he immediately swallowed it remembering his promise to Carver and then turned back to his food with a sigh. “And here I was actually enjoying my morning.”

“My bad,” Matthew chuckled. “You’re clearly in the honeymoon period. My sincere congratulations.”

“Sometimes bros hold hands,” Charlie sank down in his seat, his shoulders hunching.

Malcolm snarled. “Do you really not have anything better to do with your time?”

Matthew smirked, motioning for Malcolm to follow him. “You dumb? You owe me something.”

Malcolm’s stomach dropped. In all the commotion with Leandra and the haunting he had forgotten about Matthew’s order and he wouldn’t be the only one looking. Malcolm reluctantly left his seat to take his conversation with Matthew in private. He was lucky he was still in public where someone could get Carver if necessary. There was no way he would leave with Matthew alone.

Matthew led him to the same barred window overlooking the ocean and Kirkwall’s skyline. His skin was noticeably yellower and his eyes more bloodshot, and darkened with bags.

Malcolm nervously shoved his hands in his pockets speaking lowly. “Look, it’s not here, yet. Didn’t you get the memo about me being pulled on some investigation?”

The man snarled. “I had to work that fiasco last night and got no sleep. But the fact still is I need it today.”

“Tonight, then,” Malcolm countered. There would be no going around that. He missed the drop-off and it was still waiting where his contact left it.

Matthew looked like he wanted to argue but the Second Bell rang, signaling it was time for everyone to go to classes.

“Tonight,” Matthew sneered then stalked off, disappearing into the flood of students moving.

Malcolm sighed in relief, never having been so grateful to hear that bell. He walked back to Taylor and Charlie who looked as relieved as he was.

He set his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Stay tough, man. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you give up either.”

Charlie sighed as if he was tired but he smiled back. “Yeah, sure.”

Malcolm wished that didn’t sound so sarcastic.

“Guess I’ll see ya’ll later, then,” Malcolm hoisted his bag over his shoulder, leaving his tray abandoned at the table.

Taylor raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never seen you eager to go to class.”

“I’m not eager,” Malcolm argued, walking backwards. “I’m resigned. Devastated. Can’t wait to graduate.”

Taylor actually laughed at his joke along with Charlie as she picked up her bag. “Whatever, Malcolm. See you in class.”

Charlie looked at Malcolm’s food with puppy eyes as he started shuffling away. Malcolm couldn’t help the little smile on his lips when he heard, “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to lunch.”

Malcolm wandered through the flow of traffic into the hallways to his first class, Creation Studies, ran by Enchanter Karena, a conservative biddy who didn’t like when Malcolm corrected her on anything, even if she was teaching things wrong.

She went by the book and by the book only, even though Malcolm found that most of how magic was taught was backwards and counter-intuitive, based on ritual rather than usefulness. She was very religious and that seeped into every lesson. She saw other schools of magic as evil, finding that Creation was the only one deemed blessed by the Maker, even though the whole practice relied on channeling the healing energies of beneficial spirits, which made the whole thing sound like Chantry sanctioned blood magic when you thought of it. Something she did not appreciate hearing from Malcolm.

When he saw the silver haired woman, she was arguing with Carver, her wrinkled face so red she looked like an aged tomato but that stopped as soon as Malcolm walked through.

Carver was here. That wasn’t good. Still Malcolm hadn’t broken any rules that Carver didn’t help him with.

Enchanter Karena whirled around, her perfectly pinned bun falling slightly out of place. “Messere Hawke,” she sniffed overly politely.

Malcolm resisted the urge to poke at her and took his seat with an acknowledging nod, but Carver walked over to his desk.

“Pick your stuff up. You don’t go to this class anymore.”

Malcolm blinked. “What?”

“Absolutely not. That blasphemer has no business doing Cleansings or learning the sacred art of Spirit Healing. Those are for only the Maker’s chosen,” Enchanter Karena argued.

“Pardon, Senior Enchanter, but if Malcolm has the talent, I believe he falls into that category.”

Malcolm snorted at the way the Senior Enchanter’s mouth puckered in such a scowl it looked like a dog’s asshole. But then he registered what Carver said. “I’m doing what?”

Carver smirked. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Now c’mon.”

The other students looked on in wonder as Carver led Malcolm out of the classroom and back out into the hallway. Gossip started flowing from the classroom and Malcolm sighed. He was already sick of the spotlight.

“So I’m guessing I don’t have a say in this,” Malcolm grumbled as he clenched the strap of his bag.

“Do you ever have a say in anything?” Carver quipped.

Malcolm grumbled. “You can be such an ass.”

“Not denying that,” Carver grinned. “But I’m on your side.” He nudged Malcolm’s shoulder, the metal biting into him. “Trust me, this will be good for you.”

Malcolm’s shoulders slumped. How many times had he heard that?

“Would you perk up if I told you we’re going to see Leandra?”

Malcolm did, his back straightening like an arrow as he jerked in full attention. “It’s her Cleansing?”

“Her family’s Cleansing and her fiancé ’s, so behave. I can’t babysit you with all these interviews.”

Her fiancé. He had almost forgotten he existed at all in that perfect night together. Still, Malcolm readied himself like he was going into battle. “I can handle that jerk.”

“He’s actually quite a nice guy,” Carver quipped, already grinning as the scowl rose from Malcolm.

“Oh, how great is he? He’s Orlesian,” Malcolm shoved his hands into his pockets hunching.

Carver laughed heartily, knowing he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was, but if he could only tell him that he didn’t need to worry, because Leandra always looked at him like she was mesmerized by his existence. But Carver didn’t know how this story would end, and he also knew the Amell’s a little more intimately through Revka. She had once confided in him in a visit about how she’s all but disowned by the family for birthing so many mages. It would be a hard-fought journey, no question.

Malcolm felt jittery. Would her brother be there? What would happen if he opened his big mouth and ruined everything? He didn’t seem like the type loyal enough to keep a secret. Still, the promise of seeing Leandra so soon after they had parted was too tempting, even paired with less appealing company. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like this was his first impression on her family, and he did want to impress them. Suddenly he found himself a bundle of tight nerves and he found himself needing to emanate his own calming spell to soothe himself.

The healing quarters were filled with incense and Chantry symbols and candles even though modern lighting was installed. There was something to be said about creating a healing space to perform, but Malcolm felt like the Chantry sisters were just a little too attached to those candles. Malcolm wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or pleased to see that Enchanter Jakoby was there.

The three other mages were a bit older and looked at him curiously as the Chantry sisters readied the quarters for the nobility’s arrival. He saw a pale elf with black hair and a rather bird-like features whisper to a man who looked like a vampire for his skin was so lucid it looked like it never touched the sun.

The ghoulish man laughed at the elf’s whisper and Malcolm shivered at the sound for it seemed to belong to a horror film. The vampire was angular with scrutinizing silver eyes that were as cold as steel and he looked at Malcolm in interest while Malcolm tried his best to ignore him. The third mage seemed to fade into the background for how much presence she made. She was a plumpish woman with tan skin and wavy hair that hid her eyes. She avoided everyone else in the room and looked like she’d rather not be there.

Enchanter Jakoby clasped hands with Carver greeting him. “Ser Carver, thank you again for your intervention last night.”

Carver nodded humbly. “Only doing my duty.”

“Well, we’re blessed to have you,” the Enchanter beamed before his smile turned playful at Malcolm, “and we’re blessed to have you, too.”

Was Malcolm pleased that Enchanter Jakoby wanted him in his classroom? He found any snarky reply that he would have said died in his throat. It was a nice change of pace since he was used to being seen as the local pain in the ass, but part of him felt like he was giving in too easy. “So, you’re just making me a Spirit Healer? Don’t I have to pass some test?”

“The Cleansing will be your test,” the Enchanter nodded. “If the Amell’s are satisfied with your performance then you’ll graduate into a full Enchanter and into my class as well as take on new duties.”

“Great,” Malcolm tried not to make that sound sarcastic but it still laced his voice. “So I’m the school nurse now. Any other surprises?”

“As part of your graduation requirements you will be required to help tutor younger apprentices.”

Malcolm’s face twisted. Now this was unacceptable. “You really want to put me with kids? The guy that says fuck every other sentence?”

Enchanter Jakoby looked amused. “Don’t worry. Since you're graduating out of season it’ll be at least a week to arrange the paperwork and find a class for you. You’ll have some time to practice substitutes. Try fudge.”

“No fucking way,” Malcolm snorted.

Carver cleared his throat, glaring at Malcolm.

Malcolm almost blurted out, ‘no fudging way’ just out of habit, but Carver’s stern glare kept the insolence in his throat and he sighed reluctantly. “I mean, I’ll find a way.”

He didn’t realize it would be so hard to keep this promise.

Enchanter Jakoby mouthed ‘thank you’ to Carver who only nodded in response.

Carver then turned to Malcolm with a stern look. “Remember your manners in front of the nobility.”

Malcolm cracked out the tension building in his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

With that Carver abandoned him to class.

The next hour was spent in instruction by Enchanter Jakoby not about how to perform Cleansings, as that was a simple thing that most proper Enchanters could manage, but how to address the nobility. There was a lot of protocol about where to stand, how to address a Lord, how not to stare directly in one’s eyes to offend. There were so many ways to offend.

Malcolm tried his best to listen like he promised, but he found his mind had gotten in a habit of tuning the Enchanter’s voice out and so he kept catching himself daydreaming about Leandra’s kisses. Malcolm was nervous trying to learn all these new rules but from what he figured the best policy was just to stick to the background and just not bother to talk to anybody unless they needed him. How he was even going to get a word to Leandra he had no idea.

Then they were each handed a staff to use, just simple metal rods only used for channeling and not fighting. The Enchanter reached through the Veil coating himself with magic, instructing his students to do the same. Malcolm could hear the whispers of the excited spirits answering his summons, flooding their energy into him so he burned the brightest of them all, making the others glance nervously at the difference.

The Enchanter couldn’t help but beam at the fact that Malcolm was taking instruction so well. No chiding needed. No snark. His eyes were closed in concentration, the colors coming off his flames reflecting rainbows.

“We start by Cleansing our own auras, because if we ourselves are infected then we will infect our subjects. Now clear your minds and breathe with me.”

Every mage in the Circle learned how to cleanse their auras from a young age. It was necessary in order to not attract demons in the Fade, so it felt like they were back in Basics as they sat in silence just listening to their own heartbeats as they opened themselves up to the Fade. “If you have doubts or pain or fears open them up now and offer them to the Maker.”

Malcolm tried not to snort but the sound still echoed through the chamber. In all his walkings of the Fade he had never heard the voice of a God of any kind, just spirits. Still they were eager to pluck up the darker thoughts in his mind until his own thoughts echoed back at him.

You’re being stupid. She’s a noble. And human. She’ll betray you. Or abandon you. Why are you trusting her? What about your plans to escape? She’s going to ruin everything.

The spirits picked at the thoughts in curiosity, like they were baubles in a shop.

“Don’t give the thoughts power. Just offer them up to the flame and let them be transformed,” the Enchanter instructed.

Malcolm’s aura lit up in a cloak of flames as the spirits combed through old pain, touching upon his deep-seated anger so he could taste it on his teeth. They poured through his memories so they flowed through him, the good and the bad. His mom, his dad, being kidnapped to the Circle, meeting Carver, Taylor and Charlie, Gamlen’s ugly judgement, Leandra’s righteous anger, burning with jealousy as he watched her on Guillaume’s arm, how she grabbed his tie at the karaoke club and kissed him in front of everyone. The spirits ended up latching onto Leandra’s song, the lyrics filling him with peace as they echoed it in his head and he focused on that until the rest of the doubts floated away until all was left with music.

“That’s no good. You’ll cleanse no one with that aura.”

Malcolm opened his eyes but the Enchanter, whose flame burned bright and blue wasn’t speaking to him but to the mousy woman who hid her face. Her flames were dark, purple and smoky and she seemed to be having difficulty with connecting with the Fade.

The woman stopped the spell breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, Enchanter, I’m just not feeling well today.” Her shoulders looked shaky from the spell.

The Enchanter frowned sympathetically, closing his connection to the Fade until his bright blue flaming aura died in a smoke. “Well, you won’t be able to participate like that. You may sit out for the noble’s Cleansing but you’ll need to stay and observe.” He then turned to the three men with a pleased smile motioning them to end the spell with a calm wave of his hand.

“Gentlemen, very well done, especially you Malcolm. I believe you have a talent for this.”

The other men glanced at Malcolm as he swelled, but their heads quickly snapped back as their names were called.

“Orsino, Quentin, why don’t you all get acquainted by teaching Malcolm the basics about performing a Cleansing on another person. Be brief though. The nobility arrives any minute now.”

“Yes, Enchanter,” they spoke in unison like it was rehearsed.

The Enchanter then turned to the other mage. “Melissa, over here. I’ll have to take care of your aura, later.” He dragged her away to one of the spare cots in the room.

Then the men both turned on Malcolm, their eyes sparkling in interest and Malcolm suddenly felt like he was on an observation table about to be poked and prodded from every angle.

“So Malcolm was it?” The creepy mage had his arms behind his back as he strolled lazily up to Malcolm. He easily towered over both elves, staring down his pointed nose at each of them.

“You can call me Hawke,” Malcolm decided suddenly, feeling that his first name in that man’s mouth was just too familiar.

“Sure Hawke,” the green-eyed elf offered his hand, his black hair slicked back neatly. He also looked far too skinny for his clothes, his hand thin and bony. “I’m Orsino. Nice to see another elf made it into this program.”

“Sure,” Malcolm took the hand not wanting to start off on the wrong foot though he wasn’t sure that they’d get along just because they were elves.

The other willowy man offered his thin hand. “I’m Quentin. And you may call me that.”

Malcolm took the man’s hand too and his nerves locked on edge. Was Enchanter Jakoby certain about this man’s aura? Malcolm felt a coldness in him that seemed unnatural, and Malcolm took back his hand quickly resisting a shiver. He wasn’t sure why but he didn’t like that man but it felt more like instinct than prejudice. He didn’t like the way he smiled, how he moved, how his eyes studied him like a lab rat.

“So Cleansing someone else’s soul is simple. We guide them through a meditation as we channel their auras into the Fade so their darker actions and thoughts do not get attacked by demons like so,” Quentin then waved his hand pouring Fade magic into Malcolm as he felt his magic coat him, foul with dark energy.

Malcolm automatically cast a dispel to interrupt the examination. His mind felt a little tingly, like something had tried to pry it open. Did the bastard just try to read him? “Watch it, Q-ball.”

The man reddened, apparently self-conscious about his thinning hairline. “Just demonstrating,” Quentin squinted his eyes. “You hide it well but I did sense some dark anger in that aura. Dangerous for healers. A friendly warning from your upperclassman.”

His mind still tingled from the man’s magic making Malcolm’s hands glow in his own spell. “Is it my turn?”

Orsino stepped between them hastily. “Perhaps we should focus on examining our patients.” He looked apologetically to Malcolm. “Forgive Quentin. He can be overeager.”

“Well tell him to watch it. I can, too,” Malcolm huffed, shaking away the spell from his fingers.

Orsino folded his hands, taking over instruction as he tried to diffuse the situation. “The meditation is usually taken from the Canticle of Trials. You are familiar?” The question was more of a statement and Malcolm found himself stuttering. Was now a good time to say he always slept through Mass?

“Uh, sure I’m familiar,” Malcolm lied.

Orsino smiled. “Good then we won’t have to go over that.”

“Maybe, we should go over it a little,” Malcolm quickly backpedaled.

But then Meredith and Matthew marched into the room standing straighter than usual. Malcolm noticed that Meredith was glaring at him in particular and he couldn’t help but poke at her with a mock salute.

Meredith tried to keep the scowl from her face but her lips still twisted in a snarl. “Announcing the arrival of the esteemed Houses Amell and De Lancet,” Meredith’s voice sounded bitter with the false energy she forced into the greeting.

Malcolm bowed his head with the rest of the mages as the nobles paraded in, two by two, bringing with them the aroma of expensive perfumes and fresh coffee that they still clutched in their hands. Malcolm recognized Leandra’s parents striding in first, in coordinated red outfits. They took the prominent place in front. Guillaume’s parents, a greying red-headed couple in royal purple took the next highest place on the Amells’ right hand, and Leandra and Guillaume came next, completely uncoordinated and settling onto her parent’s left hand side still sipping their cups.

Malcolm couldn’t help but drag his eyes up Leandra’s legs admiring the newly revealed curves that her other dress hid. Leandra stopped mid-sip, reddening as the coffee dribbling down her chin a bit as she noticed Malcolm in the room staring.

Malcolm winked, holding back a laugh as she wiped her chin with her hand. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Her mother scowled, stepping out of place as she took a red handkerchief and wiped it away properly, making apologetic eyes to the De Lancets. “Leandra, really, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

Guillaume chuckled. “It’s rather adorable actually.”

Malcolm tried to keep the sneer off his face but his whole jaw clenched as he tried to remember his place. He lowered his head again, remembering he was just supposed to be furniture.

Her mother sighed as if she was tired. “I’m glad you think so, dear.” Her mother then took her place measuring each mage against the other. “Is this the whole selection, templar?”

Meredith bristled. “Spirit healing is a very rare art, Lady Amell.”

“Still, there is the instructor, no?” Lady Amell sniffed, smoothing out an already perfect strand of greying hair. “Bring him before me.”

Enchanter Jakoby waited for Matthew to bring him from his place in the wall, and he bowed deeply before Lady Amell saying nothing as she inspected him, too.

“Ah,” she said in a disappointed tone. “Also an elf.”

Leandra’s eyes widened, as she reddened in embarrassment, looking apologetically at the Enchanter but the remark didn’t even seem to phase him.

“Permission to speak, Lady Amell?” Enchanter Jakoby asked evenly.

“Granted,” Lady Amell nodded in a bored tone as she sipped her coffee.

“While I would be happy to perform your Cleansing, my students are more than capable to attend to you.”

“Very well,” she snapped her fingers at Quentin. “You’ll do.”

Quentin bowed deeply. “I am honored to attend you.”

Lady De Lancet seemed to eagerly be inspecting Orsino against Malcolm, her gaze a leering and predatory. “Well I think elves are rather pretty.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth as she stepped up to Malcolm and Orsino, her heels echoing against the stone. She looked them up and down her eyes lingering on their backsides in full view of her husband. Malcolm bit his tongue as he hoped she thought Orsino was prettier.

But she stepped in front of Malcolm. “You…” she lifted his chin with her manicured nail. “You performed beautifully last night.”

“Thank you?” Was Malcolm supposed to say something else? He didn’t trust anything flattering to come out of his mouth so he just avoided her eyes as she studied his face.

She leaned down to meet his eye, patting his cheek fondly with her glove. “I think I’d like you to attend to me, mon petit.”

Malcolm felt like a worm on the end of a hook about to be swallowed. He audibly gulped. “Uuuh…you don’t want me, I barely started class this morning. Don’t even know the Chant, proper.” Orsino’s bright green eyes widened in alarm as Malcolm grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. “Orsino, here, is just as pretty and has been at this a lot longer.”

Lady de Lancet tittered in amusement. “I don’t mind breaking you in.”

Orsino kept his professional smile but his eyes were glaring at Malcolm while Malcolm scanned the room looking for anyone to help.

Leandra was already fuming from Lady de Lancet’s brazen forwardness, which wasn’t out of character for her, but the lady was practically fondling Malcolm in full view of her husband who was just boredly sipping his frappe’ as he played a candy puzzle game on his phone. She stepped out of place and curtsied politely announcing herself with a, “Pardon me, Lady de Lancet, but may I have a moment of your time?”

Her parents glared at her, and Guillaume subtly waved at Leandra to come back but Leandra stayed, though she had no idea what exactly to say.

The lady tutted and turned back to her. “Yes, dear?” she said, the patience in her voice wearing thin.

Leandra glanced at Malcolm who looked at her expectantly and so she said, “If the mage is so new to this, perhaps I should be the one to be his first test. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

She looked apologetically at Malcolm for throwing him under the bus but he looked relieved.

The lady didn’t seem to take kindly to this but before she could speak Enchanter Jakoby stepped forward, his head bowed. “Pardon, but her ladyship has a point. Malcolm is talented but…” the Enchanter trailed off looking to the Heavens as he tried to find a suitable word before he landed on, “untested. I will be coaching him every step of the way, but Orsino is very capable in his own right, and can anticipate your needs much better.”

Lady de Lancet clucked her tongue. “Oh, very well.” She looked rather annoyed but seemed reluctant to wager her health no matter how pretty that face looked. She snapped at Orsino. “You, come with me.”

Lady Amell took her husband’s arm as she led him to one of the cots. “I guess we’re starting then.”

Chantry sisters came bringing bowls of water and towels and set them at the foot at each of the beds that were stone and scoured for a bath of flame. As Leandra and Guillaume approached arm in arm, Enchanter Jakoby and Malcolm bowed and stayed that way until they got comfortable on the cot. Then Enchanter Jakoby led Malcolm in a kneel.

On one side of the room the Amell matriarch was flagging down a Chantry sister to say, “I don’t want a mage to touch me.”

Quentin remained silent as the Chantry sister nodded and took his place kneeling on the floor. Malcolm didn’t envy him, but at the same time every comment from Leandra’s parents dropped his stomach. He wasn’t even a consideration.

However Lady de Lancet was a bullet he was happy to dodge. He could see Orsino squirming as she eagerly kicked off her heels. “Now make sure to get in between the toes, dearie.”

Malcolm shuddered. He wouldn’t blame Orsino if he hated him for this.

The first part of the ritual meant bathing the noble's feet. Why the nobles couldn’t be bothered to bathe their own feet he wasn’t sure why. In Enchanter Jakoby’s lesson he spoke about how the ritual that went back to Andraste’s last day, when her disciple and friend Justinia begged Archon Hessarian to prepare her living body for the Maker. It was said in Andraste’s last hours Justinia was allowed into her cell, offering prayers to prepare her soul and cleansed her remaining sins by offering them to the Maker as the filth was washed from her feet. Malcolm could not find reverence in an old dead woman who couldn’t keep her promise of freedom to her elven allies, but he could find it in touching Leandra.

Malcolm was not a foot guy, not even close, but even he couldn’t deny how soft her skin was, each toe trimmed and polished, with cute little deco designs that seemed a shame to hide in her shoes. He could tell from her ankles that they were swollen from how long she had been standing in heels, and as he gently pinched at the tendon at her ankle releasing tension.

“Oh!” Leandra made a surprised sound that she bit down on her lip, her eyes glancing to Guillaume who seemed to also perk at the sound.

Malcolm felt a devilish impulse pull at his gut at the flush that colored her face from his slightest touch and he couldn’t help but dig his thumbs into the flat of her arch, his heart tugging at the sweet sigh he pulled from her. He sent little soothing healing pulses through his fingers as he renewed his determination, trying to see what more sounds he could force her to make.

Leandra was melting under his touch, holding back the moans in her throat, but still he could hear the tiniest whimpers escape setting Malcolm’s imagination alight. He suddenly wished no one else was there so he could pull her skirt up and bury himself between her legs so he could hear her cry for him. He knew he was winning the battle, her composure seemed to be coming undone, but before he could claim victory another voice reminded him what he was supposed to be doing.

“Messere Hawke, I believe her feet are clean enough,” the Enchanter cleared his throat.

Leandra took back her foot forcefully almost falling over, her eyes flinging to Guillaume who was also going slightly red at the sounds and faces Leandra was making.

“Just being thorough,” Malcolm hid a haughty smirk, wondering if Guillaume ever managed to make Leandra sound like that but he regretted that line of thought immediately.

“Perhaps I should give you a massage, sometime,” Guillaume offered with a flirtatious tone that made Malcolm clench his fists to keep from clocking him in the jaw.

Leandra patted her hot cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said evasively, but Malcolm didn’t like the thought of the man trying to put his hands all over Leandra and he couldn’t suppress the ugly scowl that took over his face.

Enchanter Jakoby grabbed a staff that was handed to him by a Chantry sister. “Now that the physical impurities have been taken care of, we will now purify your souls. My lord. My lady, please concentrate on offering your sins to the Maker as we sing the Chant.”

Malcolm took the paltry staff from the Chantry sister, trying to ignore his seething jealousy as the staff started channeling with magic Malcolm and Enchanter Jakoby poured from the Fade. Malcolm could hear all the spirits chattering, scouring into their memories so that he saw flashes of Leandra’s younger days. He tried not to glimpse too closely, but he could see the imprint of her loneliness hidden behind a careful smile that she used for everyone. Her soul had been flattened, like a flower that had been stomped on but still stubbornly peeking up the sunshine trying to take in little bits of light.

He heard Enchanter Jakoby’s voice take in a chanting intonation, Orsino and Quentin’s voice harmonizing with him.

“I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade

For there is no darkness, and no death, in the Maker’s light

And nothing he has wrought has been lost.”

Then each of the nobles' auras burned brilliantly as they each bared the darkness of their souls to the Fade. Leandra looked magnificent, too beautiful to be real, amber dancing against her skin as her dark hair ruffled lightly in the burning light. Malcolm almost reached out to touch the magic, to see what her burn would feel like on his skin before he remembered that others still watched them. Still, he couldn’t miss how her eyes watched his every move.

“For she was reborn to us in flame

And so flame we consume to be reborn

May, He Who Burns The Brightest

Purify the sins we hide in our hearts

So that we may know true peace.”

Then the flame snuffed out. All of the nobles looked bright and cheerful, like they each had an invigorated spirit-induced power nap, except for Lord de Lancet who looked pale and uneasy. Unlike the other nobles, the Cleansing seemed to have worn him out and his skin was showing a sheen of sweat.

“My, that was bracing,” the Lord patted his face with a purple handkerchief.

His wife tucked to his side with a concerned look on her face. “Darling, did the Cleansing not rejuvenate you.”

“Oh, I’m rejuvenated, absolutely,” but the man sounded absolutely winded. “Just the old war injury flaring, that’s all.”

Malcolm felt there was something odd about that. Rightfully a Cleansing should ease old pains, and though not every wound could be Cleansed, it shouldn’t be having that effect.

Enchanter Jakoby bowed his head and approached the de Lancets. “If you’d like I could take a look.”

Lord de Lancet nodded tightly and said, “it couldn’t hurt.”

The Enchanter scanned the man’s aura, focusing on his back where the pain seemed to radiate and Malcolm thought he saw it in the flicker of the Enchanter’s magic, but the Enchanter stopped his spell and said, “I’m sorry, my Lord. I thought there might be something else causing it but I see nothing out of the ordinary.”

Lord de Lancet rubbed his back nodding as if he expected that and said. “Yes, I’ve spent a fortune on chiropractors and masseuse’s and numbing injections but the pain just comes back worse than ever.”

Another clue for Malcolm and he stepped forward, forgetting all protocol. “Do you get nightmares…of the exact moment you got your wound?”

The man’s eyes widened in alarm, but he said, “The psychiatrist told me that was normal.”

“And are you forgetful lately? Having trouble remembering things that used to be easy?” Malcolm prodded more.

The man’s face reddened to almost the color of his mustache and he straightened his jacket. “How impertinent. You are not privileged to my medical history.”

But Lady de Lancet placed a slightly wrinkled hand on her husband’s puffed shoulder. “You have been needing an awful lot of reminders, lately, Reynaud.”

“I’ve just been stressed, Amelia.”

But Enchanter Jakoby noticed there was a look on Malcolm’s face and he put his finger on his lightly stubbled chin. “Do you have a prognosis?”

Malcolm looked at the Enchanter rather than the nobles for permission, breaking another rule. “May I have a look?”

The Enchanter motioned with his head to the noble who didn’t look pleased with Malcolm’s offer. “What makes you think you could make a difference?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I mean, I might not, but it could prove educational.” If the Lord didn’t want his help, he wouldn’t force it.

But Lord de Lancet seemed to be in so much pain he was willing to try anything. He nodded, muttering, “Very well.”

Malcolm poured magic back into him, revealing the tapestry of his energy in an array of light. He could see the war wound that festered into the spine damaging nerves all along his hip, but what he couldn’t figure out was how the others missed the knot of corded energy that seemed to snake in the heart of the wound, gnarling it up. The pain seemed to be feeding, growing more agitated with the feel of his magic. Was Malcolm the only one that could see it?

He poked at the knot with his finger. “Is it tender here?”

No sooner did Malcolm brush it did the noble cry out in pain, and Malcolm couldn’t deny he did relish the sound a little.

“Andraste’s flaming knickerweasels what are you doing back there!”

“Yep, we got ourselves a pain demon,” Malcolm cracked his neck nonchalantly stretching. “This one’s really burrowed into you. No wonder the Cleansing couldn’t take effect.”

“What!?” Lord de Lancet cried out his face paling.

Lady de Lancet smacked him on the arm which made him whimper more. “I told you that’s why you shouldn’t skip Cleansings, but do you listen to me?”

Enchanter Jakoby’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. “Malcolm, how did you spot it? It was hiding very well.”

Malcolm looked puzzled as if it should have been obvious. “Don’t you see how the energy in his aura moves differently around the pain spike?” Malcolm pointed to the knot in the magic as both Orsino and Quentin huddled in for a closer look. He motioned to the red ugly festering energy that stayed twisted up in the lord’s back. “You can see here is where the natural pain is,” Malcolm waved his hand down his thigh as he mimicked the energy’s movement, “but here the energy moves differently on it’s own wavelength. It’s not actually part of him.”

“Ooooooh,” the men said in unison as if everything was now obvious to them, too.

“Yes, yes very fascinating. Now will you get it out of me before it kills me!”

“Have no fear, My Lord. Pain demons are rarely lethal. Just painful,” Malcolm had forgotten all the training the Enchanter coached into him and without a thought put his hand over the knot, and twisted his fingers into the energy. The colors grew red and chaotic, the bright energy growing from the wound.

“Now just breathe,” Malcolm commanded, as he grasped around the essence of the demon, feeling the wrongness festering. Lord de Lancet cried out as Malcolm pulled. The creature was starting to become visible under Malcolm’s palm, a sickening black bloody vein-like leech with gnashing teeth screeching in a volume so high-pitched it deafened everyone’s hearing. Then it shriveled and burned away into Malcolm’s brilliant flaming magic until it was nothing but ash.

“Now how does that feel?” Malcolm pulled his hand away.

The man’s eyes widened as he patted his back which was not locking up in stiffness anymore. “Andraste’s Mercy. I feel twenty years younger,” He looked to Malcolm in disbelief.

“You look it, Reynaud,” his wife placed a fond hand on his cheek.

“Just doing my job,” Malcolm bowed his head with a pleased smirk on his lips. Leandra was beaming at him and he couldn’t help but notice even her parents weren’t looking with the same disgust only moments before.

That smirk quickly dropped when Lady de Lancet started straightening her husband’s tie, “That settles it. We have to have him as a House Mage.”

Shit.

Lord de Lancet looked at Malcolm with renewed interest. “I think you’re absolutely, right, mon amie.”

Enchanter Jakoby looked pleased, but a little hesitant to agree forthwith. “Malcolm is not a full Enchanter, yet, more an Enchanter in training.”

“Well then we’ll pluck him up as soon as he’s ripened,” Lady de Lancet twisted her fingers into a promise.

Malcolm froze, the urge to self-sabotage with a rude comment so strong he bit his tongue to keep himself silent. If he had realized that helping that lord would have led to this he would have let the Orlesian suffer.

But Leandra also seemed to find this unacceptable and stepped forward. “Pardon,” Leandra said in a voice too forceful to be polite, and before she realized she was doing it she curtsied in front of Lady de Lancet and said, “but I find that with the Haunting I feel absolutely terrified,” she added a believable wobble to her lip, “I do fear that, I, too, might be under a curse and am in desperate need of protection from a House Mage.” She met Malcolm’s eyes as she added, “and only the best will do.”

“Absolutely not!” Meredith’s outraged voice called out cutting through the discussion that was happening. She looked completely frazzled, as if she couldn’t fathom what was happening in front of her eyes. “You might not know this but Malcolm Hawke is a well-known trouble-maker in the Circle. He is not fit to serve the noble houses and will dishonor you all.”

Leandra audibly huffed. “Was it not Malcolm who saved everyone last night?”

“And he did spot the demon even the instructor missed,” Lord de Lancet also stretched his back, admiring the new looseness in his body.

Meredith scowled, seething with so much hatred for Malcolm he was sure she’d pop a gasket. “Believe me that talent makes him more dangerous.”

He glared back defiantly. That it did. If only she knew.

“Pardon,” Enchanter Jakoby raised his finger to silence the argument that was about to spring up from everyone. “But I’m afraid until he has proper training he won’t be doing anything than catching up on his graduation requirements.”

There was a finality in his words that told Malcolm no matter his future, he would be in for a lot of work, and for the first time in his life he found himself praying to the Maker to be kind.

#da fic #dragon age fic #malcolm/leandra #hawke #da2 #my writing #homophobia tw #elf fetishization tw #non-con language tw #lady de lancet is a demon but malcolm is ok

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