#arinne things

[vulpineocs]

★×3 for any of your fantrolls :0

Oooo so

- Despite her strict appearance, Arinne's lusus is a unicorn and is very sweet to her child. Arinne is a sorceress as a result, though she also hides this for sake of reputation.

- Tivari and Sasivi are both part horrorterror due to tomb raiding going a bit too far. They make good money selling artefacts, but both of them have a bit of trouble staying grounded because of the eldritch blood in their veins.

- Every Deltar has a massive phobia of centipedes. Their partners from the Legacy crew will forever be the bug killers in the relationship.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shrink Arinn and give to Shae :)

Shrink Ray

CW: tiny whumpee, demon whumpee, captivity, experimentation, lab whump, shrunk, tail whump, broken bones, dislocation, caretaking, pain medicine, passing out, open ended

----

"What a rare one you are," the self-proclaimed scientist muses. He looms over Arinn, who is now mere inches tall and lying terrified on the lab table.

The man takes the demon's tail between his fingers in a way he probably considers gentle, but to Arinn it's like being clamped in a vise. When he cries out and tries to squirm out of his grip, it only tightens. Brittle bones snap like twigs and Arinn wails at the top of his tiny lungs.

"Where to put you..."

To Arinn's horror, his captor lifts him from the table. Even at this size his weight is too much for his fragile, broken tail. It pulls taut and pops as several joints dislocate at once. The pain makes him dizzy and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

By the time he is set inside a tank, Arinn is almost hyperventilating. He can't move his tail, can only feel it throb and twitch on the ground. A shadow falls over him when the man puts the enclosure's lid back on and locks it tight. Then the whole room darkens as he turns out the lights and leaves.

The moment he is gone Arinn hears the patter of tiny footsteps approaching. Through his blurry vision he just barely makes out a figure kneeling beside him.

"Are you okay?"

Arinn can't answer. He gasps and reaches a trembling hand for his tail, wanting to hold it, soothe it, keep it safe...

His cellmate gasps too.

"Oh...that looks bad..."

Fingers that aren't his own touch Arinn's tail and he shakes his head urgently, whimpering "ah - please d-don't - it h-hurts..."

The touch disappears with a soft 'sorry!' from its source.

"I'm Shae," says that same little voice. "He caught me, too. What's your name?"

Arinn takes a few deep breaths. "Arinn."

"Hold on, Arinn...I have something that will help..."

Footsteps fade away again. Trembling, Arinn curls up on his side and watch as the little creature hurries into a fake, decorative cave-like structure. Inside sits half a pill. Shae chips some of it off with a sharp pebble and collects it into a cup the size of a thimble. Arinn closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again Shae has returned to his side.

"Can you sit up? I have medicine. For the pain."

Slowy, carefully, Arinn props himself up and leans back against the wall of the tank. He glances down at his tail and touches it gingerly. Then he looks at Shae, taking in his weary but kind face for the first time. Something about him eases Arinn's frayed nerves. He hands Arinn the cup full of water mixed with the crushed pill.

"It's human strength, so it's strong," he warns.

"Good," Arinn breathes. He drinks the whole thing in just a few gulps. Panting, he wipes his mouth on his arm and leans his head back against the glass.

Shae sits beside him and folds his hands in his lap.

"You'll be okay. He doesn't hurt us on purpose...usually. He just...collects us."

Arinn tips his head to one side to look at him.

"How long have you been here?" he asks.

"...too long." Shae pulls his knees up to his chest. "I don't even know what season it is."

"Spring."

"...then, almost a year."

Arinn feels sick at the thought. This is only one tank of many that take up shelves lining the whole room. He looks around and can make out other small figures in most of them. Some peer back at him from their own prisons, their gazes hollow and hopeless.

Alex will find me, he thinks. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on that thought, forcing himself to hang onto it no matter how impossible it seems.

Soon the medicine kicks in, bringing sweet relief. All the tension eases from him. He starts to droop to one side, and Shae catches him and eases him into his lap. He holds Arinn as he falls asleep.

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

Top 5 OCs/OC moments you are excited to explore!! 💖

AAAA THIS IS SUCH A SWEET QUESTION GRAY THANK YOU!! this is so hard tho oh god

Jadyn Cultwhin (my oldest fully formed oc, and unabashedly my favorite ;~; she)

Ben Keighley (*slaps top of he head* this guy can fit so much aching in him)

Anin Keighley (goes in tandem with Ben. Their relationship makes me so normal)

The big fight/showdown between Arinn, Serena, and everyone else. I just *clenches fist* want so many fucked up things to happen at once and then the guilt to come breaking down on Arinn's shoulders. putting everyone in the pear wiggler. c'mon

Honestly a lot of the side characters backgrounds/roles! I really want to dive into everyone's personal tragedies and saving graces and how they interact with their own losses and each others, and how that makes some of them cruel and others kind and etc. I wanna talk about how Naomi's life passion was weaponized against her. I wanna talk about Aiyden's scars and grief. I wanna show the team meeting [REDACTED] and what that means for everyone both personally and as a wider systemic solution. I just *bites directly into my wall* would LOVE to actually flesh out this story someday hglksjg

[cdralenko]

i was tagged by @rebelvakarian to make picrews of my OCs!! thank you so much, this was super cute!! 💖💖💖

arinne mahariel (dao) | luciano trevelyan (dai) | auria shepard (me) nickie murdock (fo3) | lucy hutton (fo4) | lucas greene (twc)

no pressure to any of y’all but if you’d like to do this i tag: @caitthekat @bisexualryder @drowninginthefandoms and anybody else who’s interested, please feel free to say i tagged you!

[jcbs-posting]

many thoughts head full. thinking abt anin lae getting her full corruption arc in book two culminating in ben carrying her broken body out of the battleground and gently holding her hands and assuring her that he still loves her even as her guilt starts to burn her from the inside out and losing my fucking mind. tenderness as the response to incredible violence. he holds the hands that she dipped in blood and promises her that she can always choose goodness

also thinking about arinn finding blake and nick as they recover from act 1 and trying to offer her help and blake ripping into her, spilling his guts about how much he’s been in her shoes, how much he’s hated himself and everything he was and how his love used to turn people inside out and how he’s been clawing back to health on his hands and knees for years, exhausted and wishing sometimes to give up and just drown in himself but refusing to choose that because of the people who need him, who do love him, and how he understands her selfishness, but that she’s still a fucking asshole for refusing to put the actual work in and both of them ending up in tears because of it

also thinking about giving jade a more punk look to her jacket bc good god that thing is over a decade old, she’s definitely had to patch it up once or twice and maybe added her pronouns. maybe a symbol of the moon. made the only thing she has left of her father into a kind of armor for herself. sometimes when she wears it, it feels like, in a way, he’s always been protecting her

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Arinn (Vοσταλγία Winter Blurb)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Arinn: fireplace, hearth (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: Winter Blurb #4. Pillowtalk and annoying priestess soft Ivar, that’s about it.

Word Count: 1312

Warnings: nope, just fluff and my writing lol. Teeny tiny bit of suggestive whatevers towards the end.

A/N: Yeah, idk what this is, but I’m Marie Kondo-ing the shit out of Nostalgia atm, so, since it sparked joy, I wrote it, and now imma share it cause why not, hopefully it sparks joy in you!

“Ivar?”

There’s few things Ivar likes more than his name on your lips, the way your voice forms around the short word, the still notable accent present even then. But, right now, it is not something he wants to hear.

But you are nothing if not insufferably stubborn. Determined, you’d call it, but Ivar prefers to call it by what it is.

“Ivar?” You move closer, and though he keeps his eyes closed you pay no mind. Your hand on the side of his face is soft and slightly cold. Again, waking up to your soft touches and your body pressed against his is something he’d kill for…but on the morning, not the middle of the night. You insist, voice breathy by his ear, “My love?”

“What.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can,” He retorts, still refusing to open his eyes. “Let me.”

“Do you still believe it?” You ask him, and Ivar bites back words of how it is the middle of the night and you both should really be sleeping, and instead turns to lay on his side with a sigh. He opens his eyes to find you wide awake, a slight furrow in your lips that tries and fails at hiding a smug smile. By all the Gods, the things he puts up with for you.

“Believe what?” He questions, not caring about stopping himself from reaching for you, trailing up and down your arm with the back of his fingers. You are always slightly cold to the touch, and at his weakest he thinks it fitting that you feel like relief from burning flames under his touch.

“That it was Fated, that…that the Gods somehow intervened for us to meet.”

“Do you?” He asks instead of giving an answer. You notice, of course you do, that he is deliberately choosing not to answer your question, but past a look that tells him he hasn’t fooled anyone, you don’t mention it.

He wants it to be true, if he is honest. On nights like these, especially now that these nights are not promised to one day be remembered as a relic of the past that has long since left him amongst those flames your cold skin saves him from; he almost believes it to be true. It seems impossible otherwise, that you are here now, that you love him and you chose him, if it wasn’t somehow mandated by the Gods that heard him too many times curse his weakness while pleading for reprieve.

If somehow the Gods sent you to him, as a reward or something else -a punishment, his sleep-addled mind complains-; then it is easier to accept it is something he can keep. The idea that it was something he did that made you stay, that made you choose him, is strangely terrifying, even if the alternative leaves him powerless, because it means there is something he can do to make you leave, to make you choose a life without him in it.

You reach with your hand for the amulet of Thor that hangs from your neck, a habit you haven’t let go of even if it is no longer your Gods that are represented in your pendant, as you consider his question.

“I don’t know,” You muse, voice quiet. Ivar lets his eyes fall closed as he offers a quiet hm of his own, a prompt for you to continue. Your voice, warm and comforting, washes over him as you say, “I was taught that the Gods may choose what happens to us, but we decide if or how we let it change us. That is something the Fates cannot decide for us.”

“Your Fates…Moirai?”

“You remember.” You whisper, almost to yourself. He hears the smile in your voice, and it fills him with pride to be the reason behind that softness in your tone, behind that openness in your smile.

“Mhm. The three women.”

“They are three women for you too, aren’t they?” He replies with another sound, something that he thinks sounds vaguely affirmative, and lets you continue talking. “Bend to the Fates, but don’t let them break you. My mother and father told me that, one of the only lessons I remember from them.”

“What is it supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea.” You reply honestly. Ivar chuckles tiredly, and you offer a breathed laugh to accompany it.

“Since there aren’t lessons to answer it…what do you believe, hm?”

He almost wants to ask himself at which point he decided he was the one after answers instead of you, but he doesn’t much care for it. He does care for your answer, though.

“If the Gods, if…if Freyja or Despoina are the reason I am here…it doesn’t matter,” You find your resolve halfway through your words, and Ivar can feel his lips pulling into a faint smile. You adjust in your place, quickly regretting it when you let a cold breeze under the warm furs, and so move closer to him. He likes it when you do that, when you burrow close to him and seek his warmth. It makes him feel…powerful, in some roundabout way. Like you need him as much as he needs you, like you can trust him to take care of you. You pull back slightly to look at him, and he blinks past the lure of sleep and forces his eyes to focus on you. You offer a small smile, “They are not the reason I stay.”

He finds himself smiling back, like the lovesick fool that you’ve made out of him; but after a breath narrows his eyes and points out,

“We could talk about this come morning.”

“We are already talking about it,” You retort, shrugging one shoulder. “We ought to finish the things we start, my love.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows that just by retorting with something he will be doing exactly what you want him to, which is staying awake and keeping you company, but he is too tired to think of a strategy around it now.

So, he insists, “Not really.”

“You were the one telling me to finish what I start a couple of nights ago, if I remember correctly.”

Ivar knows what you are talking about, mostly because he can identify that smug little tone in your voice. In the dim light of the morning, he had your legs wrapped around him and you were moaning quietly against his lips as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but you were interrupted and you just…left. Ivar grew increasingly frustrated during the rest of the day, and he is certain -even if you deny it- that at some point near the afternoon you noticed, and you started making it worse by lingering more than usual on your touches, putting a bit more force in your kisses. He knows at some point during the night, when he finally had you to himself, half-mad with lust he grunted by your ear how you better finish what you start. He still remembers the way the dark and hoarse laugh you let out made a shiver run down his spine.

He grits his teeth, and insists, “Not the same.”

You remain silent for a couple of breaths, and it is enough to intrigue him into opening his eyes again. He finds you smiling a little wickedly, and can’t help the thrill that look sends down his spine.

Another little shrug, and you offer, “It could be.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, “Go to sleep.”

“Sex would help me sleep.”

“Would it help you stay quiet?”

“I don’t know if you want that. You always say you want to hear me m-…”

Ivar interrupts you, leaning forward to capture your mouth in his, cupping the back of your head and bringing you closer to him. He pretends not to feel you smiling smugly against his lips.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless​ @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls @ietss​ @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​ @the-a-word-2214​​ @fae-sedai​​ @crazybunnyladysworld​​    @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​​ @aprilivar​​ @msrawog  

[weirdletter]

What October Brings: A Lovecraftian Celebration of Halloween, edited by Douglas Draa, Celaeno Press, 2018. Cover art by Daniele Serra, info: celaenopress.com.

Halloween, a time for laughing children in white bedsheets and superhero costumes. A time for chocolate candy, and pumpkins, and Trick-or-Treat. A time for dark things everywhere to slink out of the shadows and into our lives, reminding those unlucky few that our charades of Halloween cannot erase the centuries of history and pain behind the facade. What October Brings celebrates the dark traditions of the autumn rituals, of Halloween and Samhain, in homage to the uniquely fascinating fiction of H.P. Lovecraft. Masters of the short story offer you a ‘once in a lifetime’ Trick-or-Treat experience... perhaps your last!

Contents: Introduction, by Douglas Draa That Small, Furry, Sharp-toothed Thing, by Paul Dale Anderson x  Waters Strangely Clear, by Ran Cartwright The House on Jimtown Road, by Ran Cartwright No Other God But Me, by Adrian Cole Down into Silence, by Storm Constantine Spider Wasp, by Tim Curran The Old Man Down the Road, by Arinn Dembo The War on Halloween, by Cody Goodfellow The Immortician, by Andre E. Harewood Nyarlahotep Came Down to Georgia, by Nancy Holder Summer’s End, by Erica Ruppert A Night for Masks, by Brian M. Sammons Inheritance, by Ann K. Schwader Uncle’s in the Treetops, by Darrell Schweitzer Hum—Hurt You. Hum—Hurt You. Hum—Hurt You , by John Shirley Cosmic Cola, by Lucy A. Snyder Hell Among the Yearlings, by Chet Williamson

[osnapitscookie]

Treatment Trauma

So there has been a lot of talk about trauma. Like how the things that happened to you as a kid, will bleed over into your adult life. That type of stuff. I have a different kind trauma tho, I want to bring to the forefront…. Treatment Trauma!! You might be thinking, what in the world is Arinn talking about?? If you follow my IG, FB page and here, you know I get a lot of treatments to keep my RA…

[vulpineocs]

Arinne has a unicorn lusus and sometimes I just giggle about it because she's the most unethical scientist and she just,, comes home and unicorn mom is like c:

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

:') Ever Growing List of Things I Want to Write But Haven’t and Maybe If I Post About Them I'll Feel Better

Continuing Emmeline and Liv's story where it left off

Myla's recapture arc

Uhhh I had this idea of a lonely OC who kisses the cheek of a Very Old Statue and brings it back to life. Turns out it was an angel/demon/god/monster of some sort who was trapped there as punishment and their physical state right before it happened wasn’t good (they’d just lost a battle maybe) and so as soon as they return to life they’re weak and ill and injured and disoriented, very much need of care. Not to mention their mental state after that much time wouldn't be great.

A third part to that time I turned Shae into a candle

Blue in a lab

Emmeline being mauled by a wild animal while in an evening gown because idk, beautiful blood soaked lady in tattered silk?

TINY MER

Naga character?

follow-up to this Arinn piece

follow-up to this Erystos mind control piece

follow-up to this Shae washed ashore piece

A mermaid being tortured because her tears become pearls

More of my Octo-maid

Mermaid whump piece based on this art

Seraphina getting a brutal beatdown from a big stronk demon lady

Whump via sauna. Not sure which OC.

Arinn torture based on this (nsfw)

A whumpee restrained outside during dangerous weather (a bad thunderstorm, tornado, hurricane)

Seraphina shot down and banged up, based on this art

Arinn tied up in the rain based on this art

Some crossovers between OCs

There are definitely more I'm not remembering or couldn't find. Too many ideas, so little time/motivation. :') Btw if any of these inspire you for your own OCs go for it!

[wovenstarlight]

rambling about ocs

ihani of the viridian tides (cis female, she/her; bi)

“I wanna eat some ice cream!” “is... is that the whole tub?” “...Maybe so.” “ihani,” “You can’t stop me!” “babe, please dont eat the whole tub of ice cream-” [ihani looks mikir dead in the eye as she shoves an entire chunk of solid ice cream into her mouth and promptly gets brainfreeze]

impulsive disaster

easily distracted, but once she’s fixated on something she’s stubborn as all hell

extremely friendly to people when she first meets them. trusts easily and doesn’t let go of that trust quickly

natural leader, you can’t help but get dragged along with her boundless energy

super perceptive but bad at processing it so she’ll notice stuff but won’t understand what it means until wayyy later

best subject is math; favourite subject is physics

mikir of the weeping cliffs (demigirl, she/her or occasionally they/them; lesbian)

“ihani, i love you so much, but im about 99% sure that doing that is going to kill you.” “Haha, don’t worry about it! I got this!” “BABE NO WAIT-”

gets anxious very easily/is super cautious

cares for all her friends like an extra mom

doesn’t trust easily but once you’ve earned her trust she’s a ride or die friend

kind to people mostly for ihani’s sake. she gets upset when mikir is rude to someone ihani considers okay

really intelligent; thinks through all her decisions carefully and as a result is the advisor to the group

best subject is chemistry; favourite subject is english (is super into studying languages, ciphers, other language-related fuckery; is fluent in 4 languages including serhin and is learning a fifth)

jaxeh of the shadow seekers (trans male, he/him; heteroromantic ace)

“JAXEH WHAT’S UP-” “ihani please” “Ah, sorry, I’ll be quiet. Anyway, you wanna come with me to the goods house? Xepho’s working and I wanna keep her company.” “youre going to prank her while shes working” “...” “thats not good you know if you get caught youll be struck from the duty slots” “...” “fine lets go i have a shitton of glitter back at my house”

his magic lets him see/hear/interact with the dead, which has shaped a good deal of his personality

is generally serious, not easily distracted from his topic/goal

will occasionally say super chaotic stuff but in his usual deadpan and his expression doesn’t change at all so everyone wonders if they imagined it

has headaches from all the ghosts talking; he’s pretty quiet and doesn’t like loud noises. frequently carries his noise-cancelling headphones

doesn’t always think through his actions and see their implications

because of this, he mostly lets other people (currently mikir/xepho and sometimes ihani) decide stuff for him

a tiny bit socially anxious- he doesn’t like taking a leading role or acting differently from the “norm” unless he’s following someone else. too much focus on him alone makes him nervous

best subject is history, favourite subject is music

xepho of the silver trails (genderfluid, he/she/they; pan)

“IHANI MY DARLING!!! HOW ARE YOU MY BEST FRIEND?” “I’m fine, Xeph! Got a class, so I gotta rush- sorry, I’ll talk to you later :D” “Thats alright you go ahead! Wouldnt want you to be late.”

“Mikir am I right in saying Ihani doesnt have any class right now?” “yeah, why?” “...She seemed worried about something. You might want to talk to her you know since she trusts you most.”

picked up the art of Being Trustable unintentionally from their diplomat mothers

puts up a front of being overdramatic, overfriendly, and loud; like ihani but More

is a self-proclaimed idiot- pretends to not hear or understand certain things

they’re actually rather quiet, clever and observant

very careful about what they say and how they say it

their decisions, similar to mikir’s, are extremely deeply thought out

are very good at analysing people and correctly predicting whether they can be trusted; they seem to be quick to trust but it’s really just them being perceptive

trust a lot of people but only Trust a handful, the latter of whom they would die for

best subject is english, favourite subject is psychology

ambassador blackthorn pond (nonbinary, fae/faer; demi)

fae has trouble with differentiating between similar sounds- b and p mostly, but also to a lesser degree t/d, g/k, s/z, etc.

is a snarky little shit

not a massive fan of humans, low on trust reserves when it comes to them- but extremely friendly and caring with other Fae or daemons

is civil to others if not well known, but relentlessly teases those fae is close to

(more to be added)

tejasezo (cis male, he/him; aroace)

Big Anxiety

(more to be added!)

arinn of the spirits (trans female, she/her; straight)

to be added

[ereri-fanfics]

hai! i was wondering are there any fanfics where eren worships levi's ass? o u o thank you!!

I don’t know of any fics where Eren specifically worships Levi’s butt so instead, I hope you will accept these smut fics where butt worshipping may or may not be involved.

If You Let Me, Make It Slow by arinnEren just wants to take care of his lover and see him relaxing after so much hard work. Obviously, sweet talking him to bliss is the way to go.

Emergency Measures by sihaiyaWhen Eren’s established relationship with Levi teeters he finds himself in the need of taking the matter in his hands. Literally.

Be Good For Me by TheSpazzBotEren reaches up and grabs the wrist that’s connected to the hand fisting its fingers into his hair. Squeezes until that grip loosens, and eventually releases completely. He drops it, meeting Levi’s hazy gaze as he opens his mouth, “Be good.”Levi’s fingers twist in the bed sheets.

Always Taking Care Of Me by twisting_vine_xLevi should have never taught Eren how to fuck.

“Fill me, Eren.” by corporalfuckinglevi (orphan_account)Levi eats a whole fucking lot.

Come To Daddy by TheSpazzBotLevi’s never felt so absolutely wrecked.

Come Closer by AnonymousLevi has a problem. Eren wants to help.

Come Home To Me by Corporal_Levi_cleans_my_houseLevi’s heat is starting and he’s waiting for his Alpha to come home from work to take care of him.

Unexpected Outcome by kiokushitakaLevi’s begging, and yet Eren still manages not to give him exactly what he wants.

Your Punishment For Waking Me by RhovWhen Levi wakes up cranky, only one thing helps: sex. Since Eren was the one who woke him, the Corporal decides on a special “punishment.”

Risks And Rewards by ArcaneStardustLevi rewards Eren for his hard work. Sometimes the risks are worth the reward. Although Levi may be the one to reap the benefits.

Salt On Your Skin by kirakiracatsWhen people ask Levi about how his summer holiday went, he’ll say ordinary things about the weather, the food, and the hotel. But actually, the first thing that comes to his mind, and the one story he’ll never tell, is how Eren had been a horny little shit at the beach.And Levi had gone along with it.

Power Struggle by LucyndareadsIn which Eren and Levi both realise that Levi is absolutely horrible at expressing his desires.

Pheromone by AshidaEren finds there are occasions when Levi likes it dirty, literally.

Are You Going To Be Good? by SoapbubblesEren is tired of Levi’s attitude along with the rest of the Survey Corps. So Eren decides give Levi a punishment.

Good Enough To Eat by kirakiracatsEren has a new kink that he wants to try, and if Levi had actually been paying attention and not been so sarcastic when they were discussing it then he probably would’ve seen this coming a lot sooner.

[jcbs-posting]

Arinn and Anin as two different kinds of rage:

one which is a reaction, an initial response; nature, instinct, gut

and one which is a last resort, the kind that’s bottled up flaming and kicked under the bed to rot until it burns down the whole house; clumsy, unknown, irresponsible

Anin knows exactly what to do with her anger. She is calculated in her rage because it’s all she knows, it’s all that’s ever kept her safe. Arinn doesn’t. She’s always been afraid of her own anger, seen all the damage it can do in the hands of others and now that it’s her turn? She has no idea what she’s capable of. She’s so very afraid but also so beyond caring.

Anin is a steel blade. Intentionally built for destruction, intentionally an extension of her rage, lashing out with intent to resist and to cut and to maim.

Arinn is a stovetop gas fire. Created for sustenance, touched by the wrong fumes. Explosive, lethal even in antithesis to its purpose.

Anin’s anger is the only thing she thinks is safe. Arinn’s anger is the one thing she fears most.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

hello! i have a nostalgia winter question/request if you would like! we saw in Κόρη that the priestess was starting to take a more forward-facing role in kattegat that put her in situations that made ivar just a teeeeny bit jealous—but I wanted to ask if there were ever times where priestess was jealous? i remember forever ago freydis mentioning that earls used to shove their daughters at him, would truly hate to be the one who didn’t hear that he’s p fond of his wife!

Hi sweetheart! Of course, I always welcome these!

She is a tad territorial by nature, we've seen it before. We've also seen he is really into her being a lil possesive lol

I hadn't really thought about something like, but omfg you betcha that a piece on it is coming. I love the idea behind it so much, thank you so much, I've already started writing it lol.

I'll hopefully get Arinn finished today and post a piece on a jealous Reader/'that's my wife!' Ivar tomorrow or the day after that. Two pieces, actually, cause I have 0 impulse control and I wanna write more smut (¬‿¬)

Btw, I'm still baffled that you guys remember things like that Freydis line about Ivar not taking a woman to his bed, it makes me all mushy inside to think you care about this story enough to remember the little things, so thank you so much!

Sending you my love, thank you for requesting this!! I'll get it done as soon as I can!

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 5: Sisterly Protection

First // ArchiveOfOurOwn  // FanFiction.net // Master Post // Previous // Next

December 17th, afternoon

--

The town of Edgehall was a scenic, twenty minute drive away. The road gave views up to the Frostback Mountains and down to the valley in which the town was situated. Even from a distance it was possible to make out Christmas lights flickering on buildings. It was the town where Ineria's children went to school,  and though small it was well populated and surprisingly busy. Over the years it had become something of a tourist town given how easy it was for visitors to take a ski lift or cable car up into the mountains to partake of the activities there.

It was mostly made up of hotels and family-run bed and breakfasts. There was a quaint, old fashioned pedestrianized high street with shops packed together on either side of a wide road. A small shopping center was undergoing some renovations, but was still accessible by three sets of doors.

It was a town that, in some ways, seemed almost untouched by modern culture. Nevena counted only two chain coffee houses as Cullen drove the car through the streets, following closely behind Ineria and Josef's people carrier. Many of the restaurants, cafés, and businesses were independently owned and seemed to do well for themselves given the bustle of the town and the number of people milling about.

As they drove, looking for a place to park, they passed a park lined with fir trees where Nevena saw a temporary ice rink was set up for the winter season. She was surprised   to see so few people taking advantage of it - but given the way the weather was brighter now than it had been in the morning, she reasoned more people might be up on the mountains skiing.

Cullen parked up in a space across from the people carrier and turned off the engine. He and Nevena both waited for people to begin piling out of the larger car before either of them unfastened their seatbelts. There was still a certain coolness between them following her father's comments, and though she apologized and he accepted her apology, she had a feeling it would take an apology from Nevan himself for Cullen to truly relax.

She wanted to tell him not to hold his breath, that it wasn't worth getting worked up over. Her father was one of the most stubborn people she knew and he rarely apologized, if ever. A heat wave in winter was more likely than Nevan Trevelyan apologizing.

Cullen locked the car when they were both out and waited for Nevena's sisters to organize themselves. Ineria was staying up at the house to help Katrin and Nevan unpack, and Nevena felt a little calmer without her around. Of course, it meant she didn't know if Ineria was saying anything harmful about her to her parents, being vindictive or spreading falsehoods, but she would worry about that later.

"Nevvie!" Arienne linked her arm with Nevena's dragging her away from Cullen. Nevena stiffened for a moment, unused to the contact before she fell into step with Arienne. Ineria's youngest son, Dante, ran up to hold Nevena's hand and walked with her.

If Nevena would enjoy one thing about this time with her family, it would be catching up with her niece and nephews. They were the family members she missed the most. Matilda emailed her frequently from school, but it was not the same as seeing her. In the time since Nevena had last seen them, Matilda had grown to be almost her height - something Nevena was jealous off, given her niece was only twelve and had several years of growing still left to do. The baby fat that had lingered around Matilda’s face was gone, leaving her with fine features and pretty hazel eyes. Rowan, now six, and Dante, now four, both looked more and more like Josef. They were rambunctious, energetic and always up to something. Rowan only seemed to stop when Josef told him to. Nevena noticed that morning how the two of them were the ones who played up when Ineria was telling them to change their clothes or stop fidgeting. Rowan was the ringleader, Dante copied his brother and Matilda was the quietest of the three.

"Did you see the skating rink?" Arienne asked, almost marching with Nevena down the street. Monty was on Arienne's other side, tapping furiously away at his phone. It seemed even though this was meant to be a break for everyone, Monty was still working.

"Yes." Nevena managed to wriggle her arm enough so Arienne's grip loosened. She glanced back to see Cullen a few paces behind them. He was glancing in shop windows as they walked past, but seemed alert and listening. Clotilde and Owen walked on Nevena's opposite side, going at Liam's toddler pace, and Josef had Rowan up on his shoulders. The boy was trying to reach for the Christmas lights dangling overhead on shop awnings and signposts.

"You should take Cullen skating!" Arienne told her. "Cleo and I can't go, obviously." She patted her belly. "But we could watch you."

"Maybe." Nevena held tighter to Dante's hand as they approached a road to cross. "I don't skate much anymore."

"Did you know she used to skate at a Championship level?" Arienne peered over her shoulder at Cullen. "Our Nevvie was very good!"

"Please don't call me Nevvie," Nevena muttered under her breath.

"I didn't know," Cullen's voice came from behind Nevena. She glanced back again to see him looking at her. Another thing about her life she probably should have mentioned before they entered into this arrangement. Another thing she would need to explain. Her stomach tightened at that thought. She would have to go into detail at some point, divulge to him all the details of her past and the reasons why she  continued to distance herself from her family for so long.

She dreaded that inevitable conversation.

She did not want him to know the reasons. She wanted to forget them, as she had been unsuccessfully trying to do for the last three years, but some things never went away. If he asked, she would tell him. Maybe. Eventually. If it was necessary. She hoped it wouldn't be, but she knew she was fooling herself. She would have to tell him.

"What else haven't you told him?" asked Clotilde with a smile that reminded Nevena of a snake about to strike. Nevena blanched. Of course, if Ineria wasn't around to make snide and passive aggressive comments, it fell to her second-in-command. It was disappointing to realize that her sisters really had not changed much since Nevena's childhood. She was still the black sheep of the family, still the odd one out. At least Arienne seemed too focused on herself to join in - though how long that would last, Nevena was not entirely certain. Eventually she would get bored of gushing about how great it was that she was pregnant and how excited she was. When she got bored, Nevena wasn’t sure if Arienne would join forces with Ineria and Clotilde, or stay out of it. Arienne always was the wild card and could be hard to read, even when they were younger she didn’t always join in on tormenting Nevena. She didn’t come to her aid or defense either, but she wasn’t as bad as she could have been.

Nevena glanced at Clotilde. "It's never come up. There aren't any skating rinks in Denerim so..."

"So?" Clotilde pressed. "You could have told him and made a day trip somewhere. I'm sure there are ice rinks within driving distance."

"Okay, I get it." Nevena huffed suddenly irritated and weary. "I didn't tell Cullen I used to skate. Now he knows. Can we drop it, please?" Her face burned hot from her forehead to her neck. Her ears felt as though they were on fire underneath her hat and when Clotilde refused to drop her gaze, Nevena looked away submissively. “It’s not like it matters anyway.” She finally unlatched her arm from Arinne’s grasp and walked off with Dante, following his tugging towards the window of an old fashioned sweet shop, with a decorative Father Christmas in the window.

Not caring if anyone – including her sisters - was watching, Nevena pressed her forehead to the glass, enjoying the cold surface on her hot skin. She closed her eyes, counted slowly in her head and breathed between each number. Anxiety flared in her chest. She hadn’t considered the small innocuous things about her that her sisters might bring up. It seemed so foolish to get upset and angry about them mentioning the skating  but it was a part of her life she once enjoyed that she was forced to give up. The last time she'd goneskating was before Dante was born. She still had a pair of skates in her closet at home. Occasionally she took them out and examined them. The blades needed sharpening, they were old and out of style, old. Not that she could bring herself to wear them again.

After allowing herself to feel the brief nostalgia of a time when she’d enjoyed herself and had things in her life which were hers, she would put the skates away and ignore that feeling. She was an expert at ignoring a lot of things, even as they scratched at the back of her mind until they were almost too invasive to bear.

"I don't know how to skate," Cullen's voice was behind her and she saw his reflection, distorted a little in, the glass. "Maybe you could teach me at some point while we’re here?" He offered a supportive smile, one Nevena just managed to return.

"Maybe." She turned to face him. "It's been a long time though. I don't know if I'll even be able to balance."

"I'm sure it's just like riding a bike," Cullen remarked, his smile broadening. "You do know how to ride a bike?"

"Yes," Nevena treated him to a half-hearted withering look, her mouth pulling into a small smile. She appreciated his attempt to make light and make her smile – the only other people in her life who made the effort to do that were Roselyn and Alistair. "Who doesn't?"

"I don't!" Dante piped up, grabbing both Cullen and Nevena’s attention He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Nevena grimaced and Cullen chuckled. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and gave it to Dante. He shoved it in his pocket, unused and sniffed loudly. "Can we go in, please?" He pointed to the shop door.

"Uh..." Nevena glanced around. She could see Clotilde and Owen peering into the window of a jewellery boutique. Arienne and Monty were chatting with Josef, the three of them meandering down the road with Rowan. Matilda's attention was taken by a street performer nearby. "Sure." She looked to Cullen. "Would you like to come with us?"

He looked inside through the window at the bustling bodies and shook his head. "I'll stay out here and wait for you."

"Okay." Nevena opened the door. A bell tinkled above her and Dante slipped out of her grasp, running inside and disappearing almost immediately in the throngs of people. “We won’t be long.” She followed him through the people trying to keep him in sight. The door closed behind her.

Cullen waited outside as he said he would. He stepped to one side to allow other people to look in and admire the festive decoration in the window and fished his phone out of his pocket. He had a handful of text messages from his friends and family. Nothing urgent and no missed calls. He replied to a message from his sister and another from a work colleague asking if he wanted to attend a Christmas Eve party. As he was typing, an email popped through.

Hey Curly,

Been a while since I heard anything from you. How's life in the big city? I can't believe I wrote that. That's as big a cliché as in one of my books. You don't have to answer. Kirkwall is still standing, I'm sure you're happy to hear. Cassandra says 'hi'. (Not really. She just kind of grunted when I said you emailed me. I think that means 'hello'.)

That's enough small talk.

What's this favor I owe you? I thought we were square after that whole double or nothing drunk bet debacle a couple of years back when Josephine took you for literally everything you were wearing (don't deny it, I have the photographic evidence). Or did something else crop up that I forgot? That's more likely. I really need to get myself a PA.

- Varric

Cullen smirked at the email and read it again. If Varric was good for one thing, it was replying promptly to messages that weren’t from his editor or publisher. Cullen sent his email barely two hours ago while waiting for everyone to organize themselves at the house before they left to come into town. If Varric was replying this quickly, he probably had a deadline he was trying to avoid.

He started to tap out a reply.

Varric,

Burn the photos. Delete them. I don't care how; just make sure they never see the light of day. Mentioning that event in an email is still mentioning it. And we agreed not to. For all our sakes.

About this favor. Think you could squeeze in few minutes for me on Skype at some point? Between dodging your editor and deadlines.

- Cullen

PS. Grunt ‘hello’ at Cassandra too for me.

"What are you smiling at?" Cullen pressed a button so the screen of his phone went blank after sending his reply. Clotilde was at his side, a disarmingly sweet smile on her face. His interactions with Nevena's family so far were minimal. From meeting her the day before, Clotilde seemed a nice enough woman and happy in herself. Still, following on from the morning and Nevena's general demeanor when around her sisters, Cullen was determined to tread carefully.

"Sorry." He pocketed his phone. "Just an email."

"From?"

"A... friend." Cullen tilted a brow, uncertain as to why Clotilde inquired as to who the email was from. "An invite for to a get together on New Year's Eve. Obviously, I refused, given I'll be here."

Clotilde looked at him shrewdly, a look that matched the one Ineria had given him the day before when she answered the door and looked him up and down. If anyone ever doubted the two were related, all they would need to do is ask them both to make the expression. The similarities were uncanny. The way it pulled Clotilde's face in made her look harsher and sharpened some of the roundness of her face. "A male friend? Female friend?"

"Male," Cullen replied sharply. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing." Her eyes went wide with a look of innocence and insult that struck Cullen as very practiced. "I'm not implying anything. Just looking out for my sister."

"Right."

"We don't know you, Cullen. And Nevena is an important member of our family," Clotilde said with a smile that was less than genuine. "We protect our own."

Except from each other, Cullen wanted to say. Almost said. The words stuffed themselves onto his tongue and he had to fight the urge to let them out. He didn't have the knowledge or the grounds to say something insulting or cutting like that. Even if just watching Nevena interact with her sisters was enough to make him sure he was right, he couldn't in good conscience say it… but he could certainly think it.

"You have nothing to protect her from," said Cullen, controlling the tone of his voice to remain cordial. "I have no intention of hurting her." That was true. Even though their arrangement was a contract, she was a client, and there was nothing there, he was not about to do anything to humiliate or hurt her in what was already a difficult situation.

"That's good," Clotilde's expression slipped into a saccharine sweet smile. They stood in silence for a few moments. Cullen glanced around through the people passing by, trying to see if he could spot any of Nevena's other relatives. The faces all meshed together for him, and apart from Clotilde, he could not spot anyone else. "How did you two meet anyway?" asked Clotilde. "Nevena hasn't said."

"You never asked," Cullen replied bitingly. "Well, you started to ask at dinner last night, but when Nevena answered you lost interest."

There was an instant where Cullen saw shock flicker across Clotilde's face. Her eyes widened and he was sure he saw color flood her cheeks. She stared at him, as  anger covered the shock. She was poorly forcing herself to keep it under wraps. Judging from her expression, Cullen doubted anyone ever called any one of Nevena's sisters out on their treatment towards her. It was a good feeling to know he had. If he was going to spend the next few weeks with these people, he was going to try and step in and call them out when he could.

The instant passed and Clotilde schooled her expression to cool interest. "Well, I'm asking you now," she said with an enigmatic smile. "Where did you meet?"

"At a party her friend Roselyn was throwing."

"Roselyn?" Clotilde repeated. "She's still friends with... with her?"

Cullen quirked a brow, "What's wrong with Roselyn? She's very amiable. She and Nevena are close." He assumed they were at least. He got the feeling they were from the way Nevena spoke about Roselyn when they first met.

"Roselyn is an interfering busy body," she said sharply. "She had to stick her nose in when Nevena and Rick were going through their break up. I'm sure they would have patched things up if she'd just stayed out of it!"

"I don't know." A pause and Cullen brushed his thumb over the puckered skin of his scar. He glanced across the street where he could see Rowan's head peeking over the top of the passersby from where he was sitting on his father's shoulders. "From what I understand, Roselyn is the closest friend Nevena has." Another assumption, but one he was sure he was right in making. "I don't think she would have stepped in unless she was doing it for a good reason."

"What do you know about Rick?" Clotilde spoke to Cullen but her eyes were elsewhere, looking around the people walking down the high street. "Has Nevena told you anything?"

"No, it's her business. She'll tell me when she wants to, when she feels ready to."

"It's a fascinating story," she smirked. "Completely fantastic. If it was in a book, it would be a riveting read." She looked at Cullen. "You should ask her about it."

"Why is everyone in your family so fixated on her ex?" The question left Cullen's mouth before he could stop it, and it was one he’d been wanting to ask since the day before. Seeing Nevena's reaction to the photograph that still contained him was enough to pique his interest. Her father's reaction that morning, and now Clotilde's comments were causing his curiosity to brim over. "What, was he some kind of genius? A new age thinker?"

"He was practically family," Clotilde snapped. "She was selfish when she ended it. Didn't think of us. Just herself."

"Forgive me, but shouldn't her happiness with her relationship and her life matter more than yours?"

When Clotilde looked at him, it was a look of condescension and it made Cullen bristle. "That's cute. Quaint." She patted his arm, adding to her patronizing manner. "He was gift-wrapped for her, or as good as, and he spoiled her rotten. She was ungrateful. And worse, she started to spread vindictive rumors and slander him afterwards."

"Nevena did?" Cullen crossed his arms. "That Nevena, in there?" He pointed into the shop. "The one who jumps at loud noises and apologizes just for breathing?"

"Oh, she has her claws in you very deep, doesn't she?" Clotilde smiled at him. "It's a good act, no doubt about it. She's probably a better actress than Ineria ever tried to be in school. But she'll show her true colors eventually."

"I..." Cullen wanted to laugh. He wasn't sure if Clotilde was serious or if this was just some kind of twisted hazing. As if by saying these poisonous things, it would prompt him into believing her. Or questioning her further. Or she hoped it would cause him to make a scene and confront Nevena. He was curious, there was no doubt about it. The more people mentioned this mysterious Rick, the more Cullen wanted to know. There was clearly some deep-seated issue surrounding him and whatever reason Nevena gave for ending things. But Cullen wasn't about to press for information from Clotilde. He wouldn't seek information from anyone except Nevena, and even then only if she offered it to him. He caught the things he wanted to say and held them back. Instead he took a breath to settle the tightness in his chest and reconsidered.

"Why are you telling me these things, Clotilde?" he asked, turning on a friendly smile and relaxed tone of voice. "Are you hoping saying these things will cause me to confront Nevena? Or make a fuss in public? You want me to humiliate her?"

"I don't know what you mean," Clotilde's smile was just as aimiable, warm, and false as his own. "I'm giving you some friendly advice, as someone who was there when Nevena became a member of the family and watched her grow up."

"And I'm sure you had a deft hand in molding her into the woman she is today," he continued to smile, his cheeks beginning to ache. "If this is how you ‘look out’ for your sister, I would hate to see how you deal with your enemies."

"I am -"

"Not in a position to tell me anything about her. She hasn't seen you in three years. So, thank you for your friendly warning - but I'll take my chances." He nodded to Clotilde, stiff but polite. "Excuse me." He left her standing as he pulled the door to the sweet shop open. It was bustling and noisy inside, but anywhere was better than out there with someone as spiteful and vicious as Clotilde.

The late-evening news was winding down, and Cullen was waiting for the next day forecast so he could get an idea of what things he might be able to do tomorrow. The trip into Edgehall had been successful and now he and Nevena had the cupboards in the kitchen stocked with bits and pieces they could use for cooking meals and snacking. He sat on the couch, legs sprawled out in front of him, while Nevena was curled up at the opposite end, already changed into her pajama bottoms and the same hooded shirt from the morning. She had a mug between her hands and her glasses on, though her attention was drawn to the tablet on her knees.

On the drive back to Skyhold and during the dinner Cullen cooked, they had made casual small talk, more comfortable alone together than the day before. He hadn't mentioned the comments Clotilde made, uncertain as to how to approach the topic. So far, Nevena's only reaction when it came to talking about Rick had been negative. Clearly it was a difficult and sensitive subject for her, but he needed to know details. Even if they were the most mundane details, just something so if Rick came up in conversation again - and Cullen had a distinct feeling he would - he would have some information at his disposal.

Adverts popped up on screen and Cullen muted the television. He glanced across at her, this woman who was putting herself through her own personal Hell, and found himself wondering why. His parents had always told him not to speak ill of people if he could help it, but the Trevelyan family were simply not nice - at least with what he knew of them so far. Perhaps, when the sisters were alone, they were nice people. But together in a gang, as they were now, they were like a pack of wolves. He knew there must have been a reason for their disdain towards Nevena beyond sibling jealousy and rivalry, but what?

There was the mysterious ex, of course. He had Clotilde, Nevena and Nevan Trevelyan confirming that Rick was almost family. Nevena had called him 'the son her father always wanted'. Maybe there was a time that he had been close to the family and almost was family, but breakups happened every day. Cullen found it astounding and immensely infuriating that her family chose to side with Nevena's ex, rather than their actual sister or daughter. She seemed to be a pariah for having done something for herself. It wasn't fair.

"What's on your mind?"

Cullen blinked hard. He practically felt himself falling back into the room as his gaze shifted from staring at nothing in the middle distance to focus in on Nevena. "What?"

"You muted the television and just... stared into nothing." Nevena unfurled her legs from beneath her and placed her tablet on the coffee table. "What's on your mind?" She stretched her arms out towards him, wriggled her fingers and gave a satisfied little groan when her muscles relaxed.

"Why should anything be on my mind?" He  gathered soiled plates from the table then stood. He crossed to the kitchen area, placed them in the sink, ran the tap and began to clean up, entirely aware of Nevena watching his every move.

"You were talking to Clotilde for a while." Cullen glanced back to see Nevena leaning up over the back of the couch. It was amazing to Cullen how different she was when she was relaxed and there were no sisters. Even now, she came across as more playful. The tone of her voice was lighter and there was no tension in the way she held herself. "Did you talk about anything interesting?"

"No."

"Just me?" The mug in his hand slipped into the soapy water and clunked on the bottom of the sink. He looked across at her and noticed the wry smile on her lips. "It's okay. I knew she would talk to you about me. Either her or Ineria." He watched Nevena climb off the sofa.

"Not Arienne?"

"Eh," Nevena shrugged. "Arienne is a bit of a wildcard. Sometimes she's on their team, sometimes she's on mine." A pause. "And then sometimes she's Estwatch."

Cullen stared at her, confused. "Estwatch?" he said. "What does Estwatch have to do with anything?"

"Estwatch is an impartial party. Never gets involved with wars or politics. Somehow avoids being dragged into conflict, even though its neighboring countries might be undergoing radical changes." Nevena came to his side and leaned against the counter. "Arienne is sometimes Estwatch, even when we were kids."

"I see." He continued to wash the crockery and stack it, surprised when Nevena picked up a dishtowel and began to dry each piece as he set it aside. It was relaxed, almost domestic how easy and comfortable it was to fall into something so mundane. He was used to cleaning up after himself rather than letting things pile up. For all that it was something so simple, it was actually nice to have the company while doing such a dull task. A few times she splashed water on clean objects so he would have to clean them again. He retaliated by flicking water off his fingers tips into her face. Her nose crinkled and her expression lit up when she laughed.

"Can I ask you something?" Cullen said, after a long period of comfortable silence.

"Mhm-hm." Nevena rocked onto the balls and heels of her feet with the regularity of the metronome.

"It's about your ex."

She stopped. "Okay." She gently put the plate she was drying to one side and placed the cloth on the counter. She faced him, expression hard and steady. "What do you want to know?"

"Just..." Cullen dried his hands, crossed his arms and faced her, leaning his hip against the work surface. "Why is your family so attached to him? What happened? They act like he was Maker-sent."

Nevena smirked to herself and laughed softly through her nose. She pushed her fingers through her hair before she straightened up. "They thought he was perfect. He could do no wrong in their eyes. He was the perfect gentleman, at least in their fantasy. They loved the person he presented to them. The man they met maybe two or three times a year.."

"Oh..."

"The person he actually was... was very different."

"I see." Cullen rubbed the scar of his lip. The hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably and his stomach grew strangely heavy in his gut. As if the meal he had consumed had turned to lead. "So..."

"They adored him. Adored him more than I did, that's for sure." Nevena's lips quirked to one side. "And the break up was messy." She peered up at him through messy locks of hair. "Like, nuclear fallout messy." She mimicked the sound of an explosion and gestured what Cullen assumed was meant to be a mushroom cloud.

Cullen chuckled, "That's pretty messy."

"Yeah..." Nevena trailed. Her smile weakened and she pushed both hands through her hair, brushing her fingers through until it was less tangled. She left her hands to rest on her shoulders, palms down. "They've never quite forgiven me for ending things with him. It was over three years ago, and they still ask about him in phone calls and emails. As if I would be in touch with him after--"

"After...?"

Time froze for a moment and Nevena's eyes locked with his. He saw uncertainty, rising panic, almost terror - as if concerned that just talking about this man would somehow summon him. She had let her guard down too much and he could practically see her putting the walls back up as high as they could possibly go. Protecting herself. She had to protect herself.

"Nothing." She shook her head and the moment was gone. The fear and trepidation in her expression was replaced by tiredness. "Never mind."

Cullen placed a tentative hand on her shoulder moving his thumb in a circle. "Nevena..."

"Maybe I'll give you the gory details some other time." She smiled - false and brief - before she slipped and out of his grasp and away from him. "I'm going to bed." She waved. "Night Cullen. Have a good sleep."

Cullen watched as she disappeared behind the bedroom door. He wanted to try and coax her into staying and talking longer. He found he enjoyed her company and they didn’t have to talk about her family, or her ex. But the door was already closed when he opened his mouth to try and stop her. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Goodnight, Nevena."

Hey everyone~

Thank you again for reading the previous chapter, and reading this one. I am appreciating it so much. And thank you for all the comments on the last chapter. Some really gave me some food for thought, and that is never a bad thing. I hope you liked this chapter, and you're enjoying the fic. As always, let me know in the comments, tags, reblogs or on in the comment son AO3 or ff.net.

See you in the next chapter. <3

[isisdreamweaver]

So, here’s a little bit of history about me that no one asked for: I got into the Sword of the Stars franchise around late... 2011 I think? Bought Sword of the Stars Complete Collection, installed it, played it, fell in love and it’s owned my heart ever since then. I also enjoyed Sword of the Stars II despite its issues (which, by the way, were the publisher’s fault), and I donated to the crowdfund campaigns for The Pit and Ground Pounders and enjoyed both games. It really didn’t take long for Sword of the Stars to become a series I hold near and dear to my heart, which I attribute to both the series itself being fantastic on its own merits and the fact that I discovered it when I needed it most (it’s helped me cope with my depression/etc and pulled me out of a dark place when I discovered it).

I bring this up because, naturally, I started to make up my own story that was separate from Kerberos’ own lore (which, by the way, I love; Arinn Dembo is a fantastic writer). When I played the Complete Collection and II, I really got into it. Each time I played, I would sit back and think “What would [Character] do here?” and I started to (painstakingly) give my ships and fleets (and colonies, in the case of II) names that fit the factions and story I had created.

However, at the time, I really had no freaking how to properly name my characters that were Morrigi, Tarkas, Liir, Zuul, and Loa (obviously I had no trouble with Humans, and the naming conventions of Hivers wasn’t hard for me to work out). So I gave them placeholder names.

But then a magical thing happened: I still had no freaking clue what I was doing and I wanted to use the characters in some role plays and by the gods, I wasn’t gonna let the obviously placeholder names stop me!

Now, though, I think I’ve worked out enough of the actual story to actually start writing it if I really wanted to (because I don’t have enough fanfiction and original stuff to write, obviously, and there’s barely any Sword of the Stars fanfiction anyway), so it’s really time I started replacing these damned placeholder names.

I just now realized that Morrigi names are basically Greek/based on Greek names (including the mythology; there’s a canon Morrigi named after an Amazon I think). How I managed to not notice this for years, I have no clue... But I finally did and that’s allowed me to start gradually renaming all my Morrigi characters, yeeee.

For the others, though? Well, I think I’m starting to understand Tarkas a bit more (doing this one at a time for the most part), but I have no freaking clue how to name a Liir.

Now... I could just go on Kerberos’ forum and ask, because they’re open to questions about their games and lore and hoo boy there’s a wealth of info there.

But I’m a coward. So I won’t.