#g dragon fic

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[raayllum]

*takes your face in my hands* listen to me. listen. sir sparklepuff was created as a christ figure. listen. he was born to die. made to be sacrificed. aaravos is god. a mostly jewish team of protags are fighting against god and pre-determinism. viren is called to sacrifice his son on a hill and it's their subsequent breaking point. aaravos is willing to sacrifice his son. soren is a judas who made the right choice. viren is literally entombed in a cave. listen to me. *crying* what father makes a son just to kill him? 

[clay-core]

"Grian’s mouth feels dry. His whole head is throbbing, ears still ringing distantly. He knows the blood seeping from his shoulder hasn’t come from a gunshot. “Scar,” he rasps, and it’s all he needs to say. Two wide, terrified eyes meet his, and Grian can see the immediate understanding that passes through them." -chapter 21, tamn (link)

more thoughts under the cut but a huge thank u to @uhohbestie for making me draw human Grian. (oh and this fic duh)

Bro the thoughts I have on this fucked up little guy is honestly a bit nuts

thank u to lock and key for making the most intense and cannot put down fic that I have read in a while <3

(On chapter 34 and nothing else can go wrong right? RIGHT???)

[sweetestpieces]

Pairing: Giantess!Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Giantess, Size Difference, brewing romance, fluff, idk, first time writing fic, completely separate from canon, slow

Length: 1125 words

Summary: Y/N spends her year with the princess, joins her to attend her proposals. (Part 4 of ???)

You can find Part 1 here & Part 2 here & Part 3 here.

“And don’t come back without more wine,” the princess called down to you in the courtyard. She was smiling. She’d been smiling a lot in the past few weeks. So were you.

“I won’t,” you replied and gazed back up at the princess until she disappeared back into the halls of the keep, her laughter carrying through the corridors.

Being personal servant to Rhaenyra, your duties rarely kept you away from her for long. You spent mornings fetching her fruits and eggs with which she could break her fast on. Midday you could be found in the godswood with her as she spoke at length about some of the other suitors her father attempted to bring about. Some days you read to her with her head resting in your lap, the warm sunrays coming through the leaves of the great tree. At night you both retreated to her bedchambers where you would read to her by candlelight and fall asleep together. It was rather risky business as if anyone knew of your sleeping with the princess, even though it was truly only sleeping, rumors might begin to spread.

Whenever she had to serve her duties as princess, you were always by her side. It did not matter if court was being held in the throne room or if she need travel to Winterfell, you always accompanied her. The opportunity to travel was not something you’d expected to be fortunate enough to experience. For so many years all you knew were the boundaries of your family’s small farmland. Occasionally your father had you walk some five miles to the nearest village and back when in need of supplies, but that was all. By the start of your second year with the princess, you’d seen as far south as Sunspear, as far north as the Wall, and everything in between.

On one of those expeditions, this one going southeast to Storm’s End to meet a potential Baratheon suitor, among others, you rode along in the princess’s carriage. The thing was quite large to better accommodate the princess. Eight horses drew the wooden vehicle forward along the road. The spacious interior was lined with seats and cushions of the finest silks from Qarth. The princess lounged on one such seat, her long form stretched out almost to the other end of the carriage. You sat near her, watching her gaze out at the passing trees of the Kingswood. Moments like these, so near the princess in an enclosed space such as this, made her seem even larger than she was. Though recently, you couldn’t help but wonder if the princess had been growing. She seemed taller of late.

“Tumbleton’s not far from here,” the princess said. Your home. She remembered and it gave you a warm feeling inside.

“Indeed,” you said, “Just a little the other way.”

“Do you miss it?” the princess asked after a long pause.

You had to think about that for a moment. When you first moved to King’s Landing, you did feel quite homesick for the farm and your family, as strange as it was. You almost longed for the grueling farm work. As your time with the royal family got on, though, you thought about home less and less. You did miss your family still, your sisters in particular. Perhaps, you thought, you’d pay them a visit soon. “I do. I miss my sisters.”

Rhaenyra looked from the window to you and tucked her legs in closer. “What are they like?”

You recalled your childhood to the princess and told her of how you all got along most of the time, but you still bickered like true siblings should. You all worked together and fought with each other. Rhaenyra looked at you with fascination as you told each story.

Soon enough you could hear the waves crashing in the distance and knew Storm’s End was near. The head of column called for a halt and you and Rhaenyra were helped from the carriage and onto the stone path. The castle lie ahead, grey and dreary even in the sunlight. “This way, Princess.” Riders approached bearing the Baratheon standard and you knew you were in for a long visit.

The next day was the day of the proposals. Lord Baratheon kindly offered his seat in the throne room for Rhaenyra to receive her suitors. Some hours before you and the other lady servants the lord of Storm’s End offered during the royal visit all washed, dressed, and groomed to perfection. Several footstools were needed to reach the princess’s height and help with her jewelry. “It’s rather tight,” Rhaenyra said when one of the maidens tied up the back of her dress.

“My Lady,” one of the other maids said, “It’s the dress, I’m afraid. It doesn’t seem to be properly fit to your shape.”

The air in the room grew silent as they all waited for Rhaenyra’s response. Such a comment to the wrong noblewoman could mean death. Clearly, these women did not know Rhaenyra as you did.

“Bring another, then,” she said, breaking the tension. You helped remove the dress from her, thinking to yourself that this dress fit perfectly a week ago.

Instead, the princess dressed in a red dress with golden leaf patterns across the entire garment, and she went to listen to proposals that she’d already planned to decline.

After the proposals had finished, Rhaenyra returned to her chambers to “contemplate her choices”. In reality, she gossiped with you about the lords that presented. She asked your opinion on them all and which, if any, you would choose.

Upon returning to King’s Landing, Rhaenyra met with her father to discuss the suitors. You lingered near the king’s chambers pretending to be busy as you waited for the princess to finish. It was quiet for nearly an hour before the shouting started.

“I’m heir to the Iron Throne!” the princess yelled.

“You can be heir to the throne elsewhere!”

The door swung open then and the princess, in tears, stormed off down the hall. You discovered her in her chambers still crying, curled up on her bed. You approached with caution and set a hand on her shoulder. “He’s sending me to Dragonstone,” she said. You felt your heart sink. “He says there are rumors. About us.”

You climbed into bed beside her and started to cry too.

Rhaenyra boarded a ship for Dragonstone at the end of the month. You were there to see her off, the princess dressed in a black dress as you exchanged farewells with her. You could see her eyes were already watering before she boarded. You waited, along with the other maidens, watching the ship sail into the Blackwater Rush, and fade into the horizon.

[rainydaygt]

[ryzselo]

Sketch done for wonderful amazing beautiful adorable fic by @bean-pole-art

[evilwriter37]

Just thinking about Valka and the ending paragraph to Unfamiliar.

I feel like I need to explore this idea more. Yes, Valka has shown Hiccup affection and love, but when it comes down to it, that person she knows as her son is a bit of a stranger. She didn’t see him grow up. She hardly knows anything about him, especially the little things. Or the potentially traumatizing things. That’s 20 years she has to catch up on!

I don’t know where I’m going with this rambling. I just think this is interesting and not explored enough.

[fereldanwench]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael Characters: Female Hawke, Sebastian Vael Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Slow Dancing, Non-Sexual Intimacy Summary:

Marian and Sebastian share a midnight dance.

Another older work, but still to this day, one of my favorite things I’ve written. It was a one-shot based on a Tumblr prompt (slow-dancing with Hawke and Sebastian), and I just found my groove with it almost immediately. It was one of those pieces that I did not have to fight to get the words out at all.

[j-a-nuary]

Date Roulette: Jiyong

Wednesday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

Previous

Next

=====

Warning level: suggestive

=====

Seunghyun had refused. He refused a lot of things. The only thing that I was truly annoyed with however was his refusal to tell me about how his conversation with Jiyong had gone last night. I knew that Jiyong wouldn't be able to resist telling me all about it though. He'd probably start by acting like I'd personally betrayed him too.

Such were the vague thoughts circling through my slowly waking mind.

But then I was pulled against a bare chest, and a hand started tracing up my side. His fingers skimmed along my skin, leaving the faintest touches behind like ripples.

I hummed, enjoying the attention washing over me.

The hand paused.

I made a whining noise in my throat.

The hand landed firmly on my hip, a throaty chuckle sounding behind me as lips met the skin on the back of my shoulder.

"You're awake."

It wasn't exactly a question, so I didn't exactly answer it.

Instead I turned, maneuvering so I could swing one leg over Seunghyun's hip. I ran my hand through his hair, stopping to grip the hair at the back. I directed his mouth to my own.

He laughed, letting a few kisses lane before turning onto his back.

I tried to follow him, such as it was, but he held me off.

"Hyun…" I whined, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Baby, I have to leave before everyone gets up."

=====

Seunghyun slipped back out of the glass doors, trying to avoid the cameras in the hall. Somewhere, deep in my stomach, a stone dropped into the previously calm water. A feeling like shame rippled outwards, threatening to spill out.

I'm being kept secret.

I resisted the thought, deciding to get up and see what today's plan was.

As soon as I stood, I was taken over by dizziness. I immediately sat back down. Glancing around, I spotted the wine glasses that had been left on the vanity. I took a minute to steel myself before slowly making my way to the vanity. Lifting both glasses, I felt myself sway slightly.

It took another rest at the vanity, a second sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, four wine glass-fulls of water, and a round of catching up on texts before I could rouse the ability to get dressed.

From: Hugeboy I was thinking about you~ From: Hugeboy I keep thinking about you (♡◇♡) From: Hugeboy It makes me want to text you |ω･) From: Hugeboy You're always so busy (´Д` ) From: Hugeboy I'll see something and want to send you a picture but I feel like I'm bothering you orz

There were a few messages from Soo-ah as well. They were mostly a series of links to apartment listings, but she also included a photo of herself visiting Ttungbo in the kennel.

I spotted an expensive pair of sneakers sticking out from the bottoms of some baggy jeans behind her. There was no doubt in my mind that they belonged to Bobby.

=====

"Glasses day?"

I groaned, hoping the tone was enough to answer Daesung's question. Shuffling to the breakfast bar, I posted up on one of the stools and bent forward to lay on the counter.

"Ay, bendita…" a hand gently patted my hair, "drink too much last night?"

I turned my head so I could blink up at Daesung.

"What?"

He gave me a smile before turning towards the fridge. Opening the door, he bent at the waist as he spoke up again.

"Taeyang mentioned that he thought you and Jiyong went for drinks or something. Said," he stood up and turned towards me, a small hangover drink in hand, "you were acting weird. Here."

He cracked the seal, opening the bottle before placing it on the counter next to me. Task done, he turned and started opening cabinets.

I struggled to decide which end of the conversation to tackle first. A phrase about eating frogs floated through my mind.

Pushing myself to sit up, I pulled the drink closer.

"What else did Taeyang say?"

I chugged the bottle, hoping it would somehow soften whatever was said next.

He hummed, pulling a pan out and clicking the range on.

"That you seemed glad to be interrupted."

How diplomatic. I set the now empty bottle aside, leaning forward onto my elbows.

"He's not wrong."

I picked at my nails, not really wanting to go much further. Still, I knew it was somewhat unavoidable. The proximity of everyone, the nature of people… it would probably be better to just have a conversation than to let things get all clouded and smoky with assumptions and half…

Smoky.

My nose twitched.

Looking up, I saw Daesung standing in front of the stove top. He was staring at the pan in front of him, but obviously not seeing it.

"Dae," I called him quietly.

No response.

"Daesung." I was more firm this time, "the butter."

He shook his head, coming back to himself.

"Shit," he grabbed the pan and lifted it off of the range. He set it aside, onto an unlit section, before turning to face me.

I shook my head, "turn that off."

"Right," he turned back and fumbled with the knob until the flame disappeared. Kitchen no longer in danger of burning down, he set his sights back on me.

Thus commenced the staring match. I was willing to let it stretch as long as possible, but I could see him getting twitchy after a few seconds.

Sighing, I leaned back on the barstool.

"Just ask, Dae."

"What happened with Seungri?"

I stared at him. Did he really not know? And what was the point in knowing?

After a moment, I shook my head.

"Ask something else."

Daesung had the decency to look ashamed. He nodded to himself for a moment before taking a breath to speak.

"Did Jiyong…" he paused, apparently struggling to come up with the right words.

"It's not the same," I interrupted him, "it's more… just… confusing."

"Confusing," he echoed me.

"If I could explain it, I would."

Shaking his head, he turned back towards the stove.

"You don't have to explain," he pulled paper towels from the cupboard and started cleaning the burned butter from the pan. "As long as he didn't… hurt you."

I tried to decipher the vibes of the kitchen. He didn't sound too upset. That was part of it but he was being cautious too - understandable, given the topic.

I didn't exactly want to contribute to what I was interpreting as him being concerned, but I also didn't want to keep everything to myself.

"Not physically anyway," I said it quietly, giving him the option of pretending he hadn't heard, "and not on purpose, I think."

Daesung sighed, shoulders slumping. He kept his attention on the food he was preparing this time when he spoke.

"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, pet."

I shrugged, laying down to once again press my cheek onto the cool stone of the counter.

"This is just how I have to live for now."

I let my eyes close, warding against the building ache in my head and slight nausea that was creeping its way through my gut.

Daesung let me indulge in the self-soothing that was laying on the counter in silence. I listened to him move around the kitchen, soaking up the sounds and smells of his breakfast. Sizzling, crackling, tapping, scraping… I didn't have the neurological predisposition towards ASMR, but this must have been pretty close.

A distinctly ceramic dragging sound and slight thunk sounded like it was directly next to my head.

"Eat."

I peeked a single eye open. My sight was greeted by a plate of toast. Not just any toast though. Daesung had cut the center out of the bread and fried it with an egg. I closed my eye again, smiling.

"You're wonderful," I mumbled as I forced myself to sit up. "A delight, even."

=====

"Do you mind if I just…" I indicated the mouse in the staffer's hand.

She nodded, rolling her seat back a little to make room.

"You're familiar with it?" She asked.

"I'm more familiar with CAD," I mumbled, focusing more on the screen in front of me, "but SketchUp is fine."

"I thought you were an accountant."

I swapped the sofa and loveseat for a sectional and a shelf, creating a half wall to clearly define the spaces for eating and lounging.

"After I switched majors, yeah."

She fell silent, her assigned purpose for the day made obsolete.

The idea for this experiment was to test compatibility through interior design. I thought that's what it was anyway. We were each paired with someone who understood the software, given a blank rendering of an apartment, and told to fill the digital space to our liking.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if there was another date on the line. They hadn't really thrown something like that in since the musical with Seunghyun. Had it not scored well with test audiences?

"Ugh," I couldn't stop the sound from exiting my mouth.

"Something wrong?"

I looked at the staffer, brain drawing a blank on how to explain the noise away.

"Oh," I was not off to a great start. "I just… um…"

"The color? Here," she rolled closer and took the mouse back. She shot me a brief smile as she moved. Conspiratorial, almost. Knowing.

I gave her a smile that was half grimace. Why was she covering for me? Was it a skill that all entertainment staff had? Or was it that often mysticalized feminine bond?

"Do you often work like this?"

She glanced up at me, quickly settling her eyes back on the computer screen.

"Not really," she tilted her head, making a few adjustments to the furniture on screen. "This is my first time, actually. What do you think?"

She indicated the screen.

I was blasted with dusty pink shades to go with the green options I had chosen. I made an effort to reign in my facial expression.

"Maybe a cream color instead?"

She nodded, and turned back to make the change.

"So what sort of work do you usually do?" I asked.

It was nice, talking to a normal person for a moment. I didn't have to fake my curiosity, or cover up what I already knew.

A bit of musical theater popped into my head.

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

"-artments for rich types."

Shit. I had totally spaced out on her answer.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Oh," I shrugged, "I mean… I was doing the teacher thing for a while."

She let a small laugh out through her nose. I couldn't tell if it was in derision or just because of how common of a story it was.

"Stereotypical, right?" I joked.

Another nose laugh.

"But I finished studying and taking the KICPA test while I was doing that. So now…" I shrugged, "I'm not really sure."

"That's pretty specific," she replied, "how can you be unsure? Like this?"

I looked at the screen again. This time I was met with a much more calming, to me anyway, color pallette. Deep greens, warm creams… something out of a young adult novel about elves.

"I like it."

"Picasso."

We both broke down in giggles at that.

=====

Apparently, Seunghyun and I shared a "sense of movement." At least, that's what the expert said.

The six of us sat in an office, being shown each others' designs, while a not-quite-yet-elderly man explained the ways I was similar - or dissimilar - to each of the boys.

Daesung and I both had designed spaces that looked a bit like hobbit holes. Both of us shared an affinity for books and something like organized clutter. Where I had plants, he had an aquarium, both being examples of bringing nature inside.

Seunghyun and I shared ideas about how to move through the space. We had all been given the same floor plan, so I had thought we would each design something fairly similar in that way. But apparently Seunghyun and I were the only ones who had lent much thought to what it would be like to physically inhabit the space.

Taeyang shared my affinity for plants, but that was just about the sum total of our matching. Where I had placed a bookshelf intended for board games, he had put an upright piano. I supposed that made sense.

Jiyong was clearly a minimalist, but we apparently both intended to host others in that imaginary apartment. His design was probably best described as being sterile, but accommodating. Extra seating in the dining area, that sort of thing.

Seungri's design… well…

If you had asked me to design a space intended to be secretly unwelcoming, I might have done something like his. He had a sideboard positioned in such a way that I could easily imagine guests bumping their hip on it as they passed. The entire thing was, in a word, haphazard. It may have just been because he didn't take the task seriously, but it unnerved me.

Where the expert saw a lack of design smarts, I saw an apartment that was built to keep guests off balance.

Maybe that was a less than generous way of thinking about it, but I didn't think so. Regardless, possibly for the sake of the cameras, the other boys teased him about his perceived shortcoming.

I declined to join in the "fun" with them. Maybe a month ago I would have teased him as well but, knowing what I knew now, I couldn't force myself to make light of it.

Instead, I just nodded, acting like the designer was offering some enlightening explanation. A treatise on the connection between personality and decorating.

"So, in conclusion," the man clasped his hands together for just a moment, "I'd say that you three…"

He gestured at Seunghyun, Jiyong, and Daesung in turn.

"... are the best matches for Miss Luna here. Just," he shrugged, "in different ways."

"We already knew that," Taeyang laughed.

"Did we?" Seungri asked.

I wanted to hit him. Good lord how I wanted to hit him and hit him and hit him and hit him and h…

"You don't agree?" The expert asked.

"I think opposites can attract each other," Seungri shrugged. He turned to me. He addressed me, directly, for the first time in… how long? Two weeks? Three?

"We got along pretty well at the beginning, right?"

Silence filled the room as I pointedly ignored him. I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel the others getting more and more tense. I saw the expert's eyes flicking about the room, landing on each of us briefly before moving to the next.

I chose to trust the editors to take care of it.

"That can be true," Jiyong finally broke the silence, "but some people can be too different."

"I don't think we're that different."

There was a smile in his voice - a smile that I refused to look to confirm. I didn't know what fucking game he was playing, but I refused to play it with him.

"Isn't that a contradiction?" Taeyang asked. "Saying opposites attract, and then saying you two are similar? What's this guy saying?"

Taeyang laughed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was a practiced sound - disingenuous, but not obviously so.

"The whole point of the exercise was to find compatibility," the expert reminded us. "If you're unhappy with the results, you should reflect on why it came out that way."

=====

An envelope was waved, a staffer announcing that there was another date on the line. Someone suggested I choose my favorite apartment design. Someone else said that would be too much like a spoiler for my final choice.

More suggestions, more rebuttals.

I backed out of the decision-making process, citing the aforementioned spoiler concern. Instead, I sort of… disconnected. Standing to the side, I was aware of the people around me. On autopilot, I rocked on my heels, waiting for a decision to be made.

In true Kpop reality television style, it came down to rock-paper-scissors.

Taeyang excused himself from the trial, saying it should only be the top three - as decided by the design expert. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a note to thank him for that. Not so much for removing himself, but for creating a situation where Seungri didn't really have the option to participate.

It took six rounds, but eventually, Jiyong approached me. He grinned, offering me his hand.

"It's fate," he winked as he said it.

I blinked, coming back to myself. I felt a bit like I was waking up - groggy.

"Is that it?"

The question came out quieter than I intended. My gut twisted briefly, a bit of self-loathing triggered by the demure sound of my own voice. Oh well. It would probably play well with some part of the audience.

He tilted his head, smile not faltering thanks to years of idol training. I could see it in his shoulders, though, his chest angling silently to put more of himself between me and the others.

"Of course, my love.”

=====

“I have to admit,” Jiyong said while waiting for his manicure to set, “I convinced production to switch what they had planned for the date.”

He had suggested that we go to a salon he knew to have a combination of getting ready and getting pampered.

“What had they planned?”

“The premier showing of that movie,” he paused, checking his nails. “I don't remember the name. The post-rebellion mega-corporation one.”

I nodded, ignoring the minor heat-spike of my own nails curing under a lamp.

“The one that people said looks like Black Knight, right?”

Jiyong hummed, “with Woobin? Yeah.”

I nodded, humming a small acknowledgment as I watched the nail technician apply starry stencils to my nails.

“Did you choose a color?” The technician asked.

“A deep pink would look good,” Jiyong suggested.

The technician stood, hand already reaching for the pink and red section of the display.

“I want green,” I called out.

The technician paused, glancing between Jiyong and me.

“Like an apple,” I insisted.

She still seemed unsure.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from saying something mean.

“That would be cute too,” Jiyong nodded.

Finally, the technician moved. She passed the reds, purples, and blues, coming to a stop where the greens and yellows were kept. Quickly selecting two bottles, she returned to her seat across from me.

“It's good that you two share tastes,” she commented. “Which one do you prefer?”

I blinked in the direction of the bottles, not fully absorbing the difference between the shades as I fought back a swirl of rage. I couldn't even pinpoint exactly which part of the interaction had annoyed me. The way Jiyong had spoken up - expecting his opinion to matter? The way the technician had clearly waited for him to approve of my choice? Sure, he had insisted he was paying, but these were still my nails. My nails, on my fingers. My body.

I realized I had been staring at the bottles for too long.

“The lighter one,” I decided just to be done with it.

“And for the accent nail?”

I actually did put a little bit of thought into that. I lifted a hand, looking over the stencils.

“You know those blush nails? Or aura?”

The technician nodded.

“That,” I laid my hand back onto the cushioned rest in front of me, “with the same green.”

=====

“How are you feeling?”

The manicures were done. I was sat in the passenger seat of a car that had previously thrilled me. But right now, it just annoyed me. It was ostentatious. It was meant to impress, and I had fallen for it.

“Fine,” my voice sounded empty, despite the overly practiced upward lilt.

“Good,” Jiyong busied himself with pulling out of the parking space, “I thought you might be tired.”

Here it is.

I was sure we had finally reached the point where he'd interrogate me about being with Seunghyun last night. The revelation of whatever they had discussed.

“I planned something a little quieter tonight,” he explained, “just in case.”

=====

I tried to ignore the semi-quiet of the restaurant. Jiyong must have done some form of reflecting on our past conversations because he at least didn't reserve the entire place. Still, it was clear that he wanted us to be alone. Thus, we had an entire room to ourselves.

I could tell from the layout that it was at least two sections. Perhaps three, depending on if the fireplace warranted its own division.

In light of everything I had come to know about Jiyong, I knew that this was probably the best compromise he could come up with. I, having repeatedly asked for normalcy, had the comfort of knowing there were other patrons elsewhere. He, wanting complete privacy, at least had the comfort of being out of view of the others.

“I feel like I should only whisper,” I whispered, “it feels like a library or something.”

Maybe I was playing up the naivete, but I knew the conversation was coming eventually. It was now my main mission to make it through the meal and back to the house while avoiding it.

Jiyong smiled. For a second, I saw the way he had looked at me while helping me get ready for the theater. The smile was all soft edges.

“Should we play a game?” He whispered back.

A thousand texts messages, cocky voices, and snapchats floated into one cohesive phrase in my mind.

If this motherfucker said twenty questions I would simply leave.

“What sort of game?”

His smile shifted somehow, going from soft to mischievous. I prepared myself to relive the cliche.

“Whoever stops whispering first loses.”

I glanced towards the decorative folding screen. behind it was the arched doorway that led to the bar and main entrance. The game was just stupid enough to appeal to me.

“What about when the waiter comes?” I asked, careful to keep whispering.

Jiyong pursed his lips, thinking over what sort of rules there should be. After a few seconds, he nodded.

“Okay,” he spoke even softer than before. “We must whisper when we're alone, but with others, we can speak normally.”

I nodded in agreement, “okay. Penalty for losing?”

Jiyong shrugged, “just a favor for the winner.”

I squinted at him. He looked only mischievous, not malignant. A puckish man that might play a joke but wouldn't full-on attack me.

I nodded.

“Okay,” I whispered.

=====

It was clear neither of us was planning on losing.

The meal passed quietly. The post meal drinks were near silent. The meandering walk around side streets was as hushed as a church.

“Are churches quiet?” I asked. Even my whisper sounded loud after an extended moment of silence.

“What?”

“I was just thinking that this is as quiet as being in church,” I shrugged, “but I don't go to church. So I don't know if that's true or not.”

He hummed, thinking it over before answering.

“It depends on the church,” Jiyong explained, “and what part of the service it is.”

That made enough sense. There were about four thousand different flavors of church. Some were bound to be silent.

I let maybe two more minutes of quiet pass before whispering again.

“I don't think either of us is going to give up on this bet.”

Jiyong stopped walking. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he was nodding slowly. He pursed his lips as he watched me stop and turn to face him.

“I think you're right,” he softly agreed.

“Should we call it a draw?”

Tilting his head, that mischievous grin spread across his face once more.

I squinted at him, waiting for his answer.

Staring at each other, I couldn't help but think of the silly editing that would no doubt happen for this moment. The thought made it difficult to resist glancing at the staff member holding a camera.

“No,” Jiyong whispered.

A split second later, he darted towards me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted. Spinning once, he set me down with a victorious look on his face.

“That's not fair!” I complained, “you surprised me! Squealing doesn't count!”

“But you're not whispering now either.”

“You cheated!” I forced myself back to a whisper as I protested.

“This would have gone on forever if I didn't do something.”

He leaned forward, tilting his head with that practiced cuteness that all idols have. Camera training on bold display.

Camera… right.

I pulled away from him, smoothing out my outfit.

“Alright,” I said. My normal speaking tone still sounded so loud, but I ignored that. “What do you want for winning?”

Jiyong hummed, dramatically drawing the droning sound on. He took a step away from me in the direction we had been walking.

“You didn’t have anything planned?”

He turned to face me again, holding his hand out towards me.

I paused, just long enough to make him speak up again.

“Hold my hand while we walk.”

“Is that your request?”

Jiyong laughed, dropping his hand for a moment while he shook his head.

“It is a request, but not my prize,” he lifted his hand again, “will you humor me while I think?”

=====

My hand was still in his when we arrived back at the house.

I went to drop the hold when we approached the door, which, of course, only spurred him to grip my hand tighter.

“Wait,” he tugged me back from the door, to the side of the front stoop with a little less light.

“What?”

The rest of the walk until now had been quiet. It had been nice. I had asked a few times about what he wanted, but he had only said that he was thinking and would tell me when we got back to the house.

And here we were.

Jiyong dropped my hand, but only so he could quickly unplug both of our lapel mics.

“Ji-yah…”

He shook his head slightly, fingers quickly tugging the batteries out of the mic-packs.

Once he was satisfied with our relative privacy, he turned to face me. He tucked both of my hands into his own. Clearly, he wasn’t above pleading.

“Sleep with me.”

I felt my face twitch, opening my mouth to say… something.

“Not like that!” Jiyong quickly defended himself.

I narrowed my eyes but waited for him to explain himself.

“I just mean…” a less confident man would have stammered, “like before.”

I thought back, remembering falling asleep on his chest at the hotel. It had been nice, feeling the rise and fall of his body as he breathed slowly next to me on those few nights. Still…

“We’ve talked about this.”

For a moment, just long enough to make it impossible to brush off as nothing, anger rolled over his face. His hands, still gripping my own, tightened.

I could feel the pace of my heart pick up, my nerves tingling with alertness. With fear. I opened my mouth, unsure what was going to come out.

“Oppa…”

It wasn't a word I used often. I knew that many men disliked the way it sounded on a foreigner's tongue and that some others liked it a bit too much. But at that moment, I only remembered that it was the only way I could break my ex out of his ramping anger. My chest tightened, waiting, hoping, for it to have a similar effect on Jiyong.

It did its work.

My hands were dropped, and that look on his face quickly transformed into a much more familiar one of regret.

“My love…”

“I'll go in first.”

I couldn't let him talk. He was too good at talking. I knew he was. Given the time to talk, he'd convince me. By appealing to pity, sympathy, or something else, he would convince me. So, I pushed past him and made my way inside.

=====

There were some bodies in the common areas of the house, but I didn't take enough notice of them to match them to names. Within thirty seconds, I was pushing my bedroom door shut and locking it for good measure.

Then there was nothing. My body still wanted to run, but there was nowhere else to go. This was the safest place that was immediately available. There was a locked door between me and everyone else.

I glanced at the sliding glass door.

Scrambling over the bed, not taking the two extra seconds to simply walk around it, I rushed to make sure that it was locked as well. For extra security, I pulled the curtains shut tightly.

One locked door in either direction. I was invisible.

It still didn't feel like enough.

Which was how I found myself, fully clothed, sitting in the center of the giant tub. It was empty. But the bathroom provided an additional locked door, and something about the tub created a feeling of security.

I pulled out my phone and stared at it. Soo-ah would answer, but would she understand? Mino would definitely answer and probably offer to come get me - regardless of if it causes more problems later on. Seunghyun… were we really close enough for me to call him about being scared of one of his members? Would Daesung be able to resist telling the others what happened?

Shaking slightly, I kept running through possible contacts for a few minutes before finally deciding.

The phone rang through to voicemail.

“Damn it.”

I hung up, slouching over until my head hit the bottom of the tub.

Who else? There had to be someone else that I hadn't thought of yet.

My phone rang, surprising me so badly that I fell over from my kneeling position. Without even looking at the caller ID, I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Who are we damning?”

[da3dm]

The fool and the dragon (fake fic titles!!!)

THIS BECAME AN ENTIRE AU

The Fool and the Dragon 1.1

This is the mystery au! Starting from a borrower's perspective...

People who wanted tagged: @justarandomsloth, @beckyu, @brick-a-doodle-do

If you want to be tagged for any stories of mine, just lemme know!

TW: Fear, panic, mentions of death, drowning, injuries, calling someone 'it' (if I'm missing one, please tell me)

Word Count: 6k

Chapter 1: The Prankster

It was yet another bright day nearing its end, the inhabitant of the apartment once again absent. Except…it wasn't all that empty. Someone small enough to go unnoticed dashed out of the wall, a blur the only thing visible crossing the floor. With a hurried scramble, the finger sized cat hybrid hauled himself up onto the living room table. Once up he had to crouch and take a moment to breathe, but his ears stayed perked up to listen closely for danger. There were two residents in the apartment. One was human, usually gone most of the week, and extremely aggressive to the other person when home. That guy was a little scary, but not hard to avoid. It was the other one he was being cautious of.

The other man definitely wasn't human and was always way too silent for how terrifying his eyes were. He always looked angry or blank, never said anything to the louder person, and…never fought back. Sure, that makes him sound nice and all, but if that was the case then explain the times he'd heard that guy muttering about the best ways to murder the human without anyone finding the body. Not to mention he kept his claws as sharp as possible and would vanish for a while to come back smelling like blood. What made it worse was the permanent scowl that sent shudders through his body. Honestly, he'd rather be caught by the human than that guy…at least he could predict the former.

Even so…he never could seem to stop himself from messing with him. He hadn't been here long, but for some reason he really wanted to see that guy's expression change. Recently he'd started trying just a small amount of things, purposely taking or moving things that would be noticed. He tried not to do something severe, focusing on things that could have been caused by the human rather than the borrower. He'd done that, but…there really wasn't any reaction. The most it ever got was a tired or annoyed sigh, followed by him just sitting and watching TV. Every single time. It was really beginning to annoy him that this giant didn't even care.

This meant that right now, he was busy trying to do something a little more prank like. So he took a deep breath and got up, boldly going to the bowl in the middle of the table. He slid down the smooth surface and hurriedly grabbed one of the fruit so he wouldn't get stuck, climbing on top of it with some effort. On top of the fruit, he glanced at everything in the bowl and debated which one he would target. He nodded to himself and climbed to one at the top that was a greenish color and shaped weird. He really didn't know what it was, but he was more focused on his mission.

It took him a moment, but he figured out the best spots, took another deep breath to calm down, then dug his dulled claws into the fruit, proceeding to draw a smiley face. He stuck his tongue out in focus, trying to make it big enough to be visible to the giant hybrid, really hoping he'd guessed correctly which one would be eaten first. This would just be depressing if he'd ruined the fruit and it rotted…wasting food always made him feel bad considering it was usually something really hard to get. It made this apartment rather dream-like, giving him enough access to everything that he could do this so easily without being worried about losing anything.

Well, other than that he might be caught from doing this. Still, he carried on, finishing his carving with a sigh. Leaning back, he studied his work with some approving nods, his tail flicking both excitedly and nervously. Taking a glance around the room just to be sure, he reached into his side bag to pull out some of the spices he’d recently nabbed. He debated how wise this prank was and the ways it could possibly go wrong…morally this was probably quite rude, but it was getting tiresome. If he never knew what pushed that guy over the edge…then how could he ever be prepared for it happening?

Obviously this wasn't nice and could end badly for him if they lashed out, but…he just couldn't resist. With a firm nod, he slapped some red pepper powder onto the open cuts, taking a moment to rub it into the fruit before he moved swiftly to gut underneath it. Once under, he began to scratch at it to get the pepper there too. He didn’t put an excessive amount in, but he did know that the human was the only one who ever used this spice. The moody one didn’t even touch it…he'd probably easily taste the pepper if it was unwanted. It made him too nervous to keep thinking about the possible outcomes, so he left it for just watching.

When that was all finally done, he gave a sigh of relief and slumped, studying his handiwork from where he’d slid to be underneath it. That was…the most stupid thing he’d done in a long time, but this might be a tad mean. Oh well…it was revenge for not getting more cookies. Yeah…then that just made this even. Perfect. Guilt gone! Not really, but it was too late to back out of it. He stretched a tad and let himself lean against the fruit for a momentary break from everything. Running so far and climbing this much was always so tiring. Sometimes worth it, but not always.

He was finally getting his body to relax and about to take and head home…when he heard the telltale sound of that strange shadowy thing the one inhabitant of the apartment makes. He stiffened immediately, slowly dropping into a crouch so he could get himself slid down out of sight. It was impossible to tell where the man was with his steps being so ghostly, but his ears were on a swivel anyway. Regardless…it was difficult to hear over the pounding of his own heart. Not even seconds passed before he had himself crammed somewhere he’d go unnoticed, but could suddenly see outside the clear bowl from a small opening between the fruit.

There, right in front of the door, dark wisps were already dispersing from the exact man he’d just been trying to prank, only confirming his fears. His breath hitched and his chest began to hurt when those horribly dangerous golden eyes scanned the room. The man was pausing for something, but…he couldn't tell what he was doing at all! It was the giant finally moving forward that made him start shaking slightly, praying to who knows what that he wouldn't be found at the scene of the crime. The hauntingly silent steps only carried the man closer and closer, where he began to stretch out his arm…

…and grabbed the TV remote. He shuddered watching this massive being, who he was WAY too close to, sit down directly in front of the fruit. The tiny cat moved slightly, trying to see more of what the man was doing, but unable to see him in his entirety anymore. Instead, all he managed to do was freak himself out even more. This guy was…staring. Right. At. The. bowl. He felt trapped, knowing they weren't looking at him, but also aware the giant hadn’t been looking at the TV from the beginning. It was hard not to whimper or just bolt when being even somewhat under that gaze, but…he simply bit his lip and forced himself to stay still.

This made him entirely miss the hand reaching for the bowl. It wasn't until he plainly saw the claw hooking the edge that he found the bowl suddenly sliding closer to the man. His heart felt like it would explode the closer he was dragged, but it came to a stop at the same time as a random flinch from the guy. He held his breath. Was he seen? He could see those gold eyes examining the bowl he was in, making his heart hammer away at his sanity. There was a sigh heavy enough to breeze over him before those eyes seemed to glow for a moment. Was it magic? He knew some of the bigguns had that. He only wished he did.

Then it finally came closer…the hand. He reached for the fruit and grabbed the one he’d targeted, making him both terrified for his life and ecstatic that he might get to see the expression shift directly in front of him. His excitement made him miss the brief twitch up of their lip before the giant was finally taking a bite. He was eager and nervous for the reaction and kept a close eye on what happened. The immediate coughing fit the man had held plenty enough weight to make the borrower feel guilty. Maybe…he shouldn't have laced the fruit with this guy’s least favorite thing.

Watery eyes, rasping breath, reddened face, and the apparent inability to smell or see anything clearly. Was he sensitive to spice? Then what he did was…more bullying than pranking. Well that was one way to make him feel ridiculous for finding it funny. The only thing that made this worse? The rather angry look the bowl…that he was currently in, received. That was closely followed by a hand roughly picking the bowl up, nearly sending him tumbling. He grabbed one of the small holes that lined the sides of the bowl and looked around fearfully. What was he doing with the entire bowl?! Was he going in the trash?!

He could smell what seemed to be the kitchen and scrambled a bit. He knew humans would waste food like this, but not while he was inside it! It was terrifying him and he was so distracted by the thought of being tossed out that he didn’t immediately notice the sound of the faucet. Not until water was slamming into him and shoving him around. The angry mutterings from above mixed with the quickly rising water level set him into a panic. His hiding spot was below the drain holes, leaving him submerged. The worst part was the fruit being in his way of climbing up and the danger of being seen if he did.

The water kept bearing down on him seemingly endlessly, leaving his sputtering and gasping for breath, drenched to the bone. It was when he had nearly faded out that it finally all stopped and went still. Then the bowl tipped. His movements were dulled and too slow, but it didn't matter because he was soon pinned down by one of the items in the bowl. Luckily, he was right over the holes this time as the water spilled over his back and down the drain. He was cold. So cold. Faintly, it felt like the bowl was set down, the giant muttering something his mind only half understood.

It took him nearly ten minutes before he realized the human was gone and began to climb back out. The way up was difficult when weighed down by water and having to use slippery fruit, but he managed it regardless. Out of the bowl, he hardly bothered climbing down all the way and just collapsed. His sopping wet body shivered violently from the chill of the air against what had already been freezing water. All his limbs felt too heavy to even try moving. The only saving grace was that he could still breathe just fine…but now a shudder ran through his entire being as he forced himself to sit up using shaky arms.

He had nearly drowned. From being sprayed by water in a fruit bowl. That was both humiliating and traumatizing to say the least. The…not human had looked so cold, completely uncaring about it. Maybe that was to be expected…they weren’t even aware he was in the thing and had simply reacted to the pepper. Honestly, he was lucky. That could have gotten so much worse if the bowl had been dumped or investigated. Not to mention, he didn’t die. It was like the man stopped before he could…and in a way it reminded him of revenge. Yep. Revenge is best served cold, right? Quite literally in this case.

With a stressed exhale, he got himself onto his shivering legs and looked around, trying to listen for the giant while he worked on getting the water out of his ears. All he could hear was water rushing, making him cringe until he remembered it was the sound of the shower. Oh yeah. The guy had smelled strongly of blood again…he’d been too focused on surviving to pay much attention to that detail. Maybe he should've? Was he more aggressive when he comes home smelling like death? Probably…there would likely have been a reason he’d be so covered in blood since it wasn’t a constant.

Well…with a deep breath, he hauled himself over the counter, the water weighing his entire body down as it pulled at his clothes and fur. He stumbled several times over his own feet, almost losing track of where he was going. It felt like hours, but it was maybe only a few minutes before he was in the walls again, shutting the entrance behind him as he leaned up against it. So now he knew one thing to avoid using…and to never take a moment to breathe when he wasn't hidden away in the walls or completely out of sight. That was too close…he could've been found, and he could have died.

Faintly, he could hear the shower running, the soft mutterings from the cold man inaudible from his location. He sighed heavily as he let himself sink down the wall, his knees up against his chest. Resting his elbow on his knee, he raked his hand through his hair and shut his eyes, trying to settle back down. That was stressful. His ears still twitched mindlessly at every mutter and sound going through the building, but his mind went to silently wondering if the guy was showering fully clothed again. He had never seen any of these big creatures do that before…sure it got the blood off, but didn't they clean clothes a different way?

Grimacing at the reminder that the guy had smelled like he was drenched in blood, the borrower forced himself to his feet. This person was definitely dangerous. It made him wonder, considering the drastic difference between the roommates, if it was simply his race. The guy certainly wasn't human, but past that he didn't know the actual name. What he did know, was that his gaze sometimes felt almost…predatory. Like he’d attack anything that moved and devour everything he destroys. Well, not literally ‘devour’ things, but…it sometimes really felt like it. Made him question even living here.

He stumbled down the path he’d found in the walls when first coming here, slowly heading for his makeshift ‘house’ that he’d hidden away in one of the rooms. His sanity was easily that questionable…after all, he soon found himself within the walls of the glaring guy’s room. From there, he could peer out and view the bed and the door. It…was just a survival decision. Best to keep tabs on the guy that was always here but wasn't human, right? No matter, it didn’t change where he was and that it got lonely otherwise. How he wished to have someone he could sleep next to for comfort.

Then his ears twitched as he realized the shower had turned off, soon hearing the telltale sound of the shadows being in use again. A shudder dashed through him at the brief thought of those dark, wispy, cold shadows wrapping around him, that horrible gaze bearing down on him like he was worth nothing. He would have seen himself being dragged into that inky abyss, but was interrupted by hearing the man exclaim over something, only to notice the TV going quiet. What was the guy doing this time? But…it shouldn't be for him to be concerned over, really. He tuned out the distant, angry mutters, to return to himself.

He sighed and sat in the chair he usually used to sit and watch the strange giant, but this time simply wanting to rest a bit. He needed to be awake for borrowing tonight, he couldn't afford to sleep when it wasn’t quite dark out yet. There was way too much of a risk that he might oversleep…he couldn't let that happen, not with this person. He whispered to himself but crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on them, staring blankly out of the small cut in the wall. This bedroom had a lot of those small cuts…probably from the owner lashing out or something. Still, it hid that he was behind it.

He had started to drift into his thoughts, only for the door to swing open fast enough that wind shoved at his face. With a silent wince, he sat up, watching wide-eyed as the man he’d been thinking of entered the room. It didn’t end there though, as soon after his entire world quaked, the loud slam of the door making his hands fly to his ears in an instant. His sensitive ears rang, his eyes watering from the unsettled dust while he tried to keep his breathing steady. Yeah…this one was very dangerous. Whether it was from just not knowing he was there or simply a lack of care, it still wasn't super safe.

But…an apex predator kept the others away. So he stayed, watching as the giant took a breath and froze up when the room was scanned, looking away to avoid those eyes. A quiet grumble made him look back up. He stared with partial trepidation as the mysterious person came closer, keeping his eyes on every last motion to be certain if he was safe or discovered. Then he noticed him sitting at the desk, a place that was directly in front of him, and moving something around. The sound of paper shuffling soon reached his still throbbing ears softly, a soothing sidenote.

Oh. He was doing that thing he called ‘homework’ again. A slight smile crept onto his lips, easily feeling like he was just sitting across from this giant, who remained staring down, a direction that was somehow away from him right now. His wet tail flicked enjoyably, wondering if this was what being the same size would feel like…sure, it was with someone who would most likely kill him if he was discovered, but in some ways it was comforting. Just imagine how nice it would be to view this strange person from the same level. Maybe he would have been able to find out something brand new and hidden behind those intense eyes.

A sigh bordering being dreamy escaped from him as he leaned against the table to watch the other. It wasn't eventful, not really, but this was one of the rare times he would see just the slightest expression changes. Most of it was just agitation, but on occasion he caught a glimpse of a sort of calmness, as if he was thinking of something important to him. Tonight, though, didn’t seem to be providing that result. Rather, he was there watching the guy rage about something, both of them staying seated for perhaps an hour or more. Then, it seemed to finally be calming down with small signs.

The tiny cat hybrid was surprised when the giant held his head in his hands and drooped. Immediately, he was out of his seat and at the wall, desperately wishing to reach a hand out, to say something, to help that helpless behavior. He didn't see this man show this feeling often, almost less than the number of times he was calm, but it hurt to see every single time. It was clear he was somehow broken, haunted and weighed down by some sort of problem, but he never saw someone try to help. All he ever got to see was this, rather horrible person, being beaten just because he was in the room.

Was that the problem? He doubted it would have quite that much power, though…and he wasn't allowed to think about it too long before the giant clawed hands dragged down the man’s face, and his eyes started studying the room. He stiffened greatly, unnerved by how attentive that gaze seemed to be. When the non-human was staring right at him, and stared for so long, he felt his heart leap into his throat. His chest ached. Those horrid eyes bore into him. He couldn't breathe. He began to gasp silently. A hand flew to his chest, clutching desperately. His mind wasn't even working.

He gasped again, only to fall out of the seat and be startled out of it. He froze, blinking up at the darkness around him, the pounding of his own heart the only thing he could hear. It took him a long few moments until he noticed a shuffling sound like the guy was standing up. With a sigh of relief, he went limp for a long time. Didn’t take him long before he was pushing himself up, sparing only a long enough glance to see the giant was getting in bed as he shuffled around. Well, that was another year off his life. Still, he took a breath and checked his makeshift bag to be certain it had the tools he’d need.

Once he was certain enough he’d taken stock, he looked out once more before he was rushing out of that room, hurrying for the kitchen. He’d rather get the food, materials, and get back home. The human wasn't home often, but the guy came into the apartment at any hour of the day. His only chance was a brief time that the scarier resident was asleep or absent to get himself a meal. He’d wasted the chance earlier in order to play a prank that he still regretted…the water remained heavy on his clothes. He shuddered. Yeah, that was going to be the object of his nightmares for months.

He shrugged the bag on even further and gripped the strap tighter. He probably wasn't going to play any pranks anytime soon…for now he needed to refocus again. Well, sneaking around was one thing when he was in a normal condition, but his wet clothes made the faintest of noise when he ran out onto the laminate counter. All he could do was cringe, then grin and bear it. Not much else he could really do, the only other clothes he had were for winter wear. If he wore those right now, he’d be way too hot to do anything productive…although it was hard to tell which he preferred right now.

It took him a bit of time to get himself properly angled, his swiveling ears hearing phantom sounds that kept making him want to duck and hide. He was fine. Deep breath. He slipped the bag off so he could dig inside of it, pulling out his old hook fashioned out of what was probably once a weapon. He’d never given it much thought when he found it, the thing was useful and that’s all that mattered. So he raised it up and took aim. He didn’t use it often, as most of the time he was nimble enough to climb on his own, but today the cupboards were shut and he was wet. Neither were good.

He let himself fall into debate though, slowing in his movements. Couldn't he just…do this tomorrow? His body ached, his lungs still burned, and his nerves were on a hair trigger. All in all he wasn't in good shape, but…he couldn't afford to simply relax. Who knows what could happen tomorrow. Better to get it and be happy. So he tried to steady himself again while pausing to listen, then studied where he needed to throw it. It was as he examined it that his arms suddenly felt…heavy. Could he actually throw this that far? Successfully? His ears went down for a brief moment before he harshly shook his head. Doesn't matter

Only taking a second to be sure he had it correct, he chucked the hook at the cabinet handle, watching it soar through the air. Miraculously, it hooked. With a faint breath of disbelief, he tugged on the rope. Once. twice. A third time. It didn’t budge. He allowed some tension to fade from his body at last, now just working on getting himself up there. Stepping up to start climbing was easy enough, but he soon found himself needing to tie the rope around his waist, using it as a safety line more than something to hold onto now. Honestly, if he fell it could probably slice him in half if the force was too much.

He blinked in confusion at how negatively his mind had dipped in only a second, frowning while he tugged himself higher. It was important to stay focused. If he drifted off topic, he could get hurt. It wouldn't be hard to lose footing on these items…especially since he found himself balanced precariously on a slick glass jar of some kind. He didn’t bother trying to see what was in it, deciding he didn't have the time to right now. Rather, he just shook his head again and forged higher, finally reaching the handle after enough effort his lungs wheezed. Climbing was a lot harder when you weren't dry.

Still, he shook out his limbs before attempting to go higher. The cupboard door was kinda hard to get open, but he was at least in a good spot for it. He tugged many times until it finally popped open. Then he was met with the sudden new fear of falling when it swung out, bringing him with it. His breath caught in his throat again, but he simply swallowed it down and began to kick, trying to make it swing back shut on his own. Surely, it wouldn't be impossible, right? Since it wasn't entirely comforting to think of it that way, he tried to focus on what he needed to do to fix this instead.

He found himself shaking slightly, gripping the handle with as much strength as he could manage. It was a wonder he was still hanging on this long. Choosing to take a steadying breath, he moved on to swinging his legs rather than wildly kicking. This finally yielded some results. The door creaked as it swung open just a tad more, but then went inward. This repeated a few times, the length steadily increasing until it finally got close enough. He twisted to the other side and shoved off from the door the moment he was near the edge. Sure enough, the door swung back out, taking his hook with it, and he landed horribly.

The jump wasn't too bad, but he teetered on the edge, waving his arms wildly as he tried not to fall. When he started to tip back too much, he whispered, “No, no, no!” But he quickly grabbed the side of the cupboard, twisting his body with the agility of a cat in order to yank himself up into the dark space. He rolled and collided with something heavy, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain, trying to move out of the way just in case it fell over. At this point, the borrower had dragged himself to lean up against one of the walls, trying his best to breathe while he worked on getting back to his feet.

He looked at his arm, his brows knitting together over the pain throbbing through the limb where he’d hit that item. Didn’t seem broken…when he flexed the arm, it still moved, just stiffly. Well…at least he only banged it. Hopefully. It was just another part of what came with being born with a weak body…they thought he wouldn't even be helpful for surviving, hated that he resembled a cat, and tossed him aside. He took a deep breath and clenched his hand into a fist. He would survive better than any of them. While living in the house of someone that was clearly a dangerous giant.

Oh well. He looked around for his target, eventually finding the opened boxes and mentally cheering while hurrying over. It was only while he was wrestling to get an entire granola bar out, that he realized he’d forgotten his bag back down on the counter. Well that was a curse and a half. He groaned and let the bar just fall on top of him, sighing to himself while staring at the wood above him. Why was he just…so small compared to them? Having to live off their food and their houses…he forced the thought out of his head and sat up, glancing around again. Best not to dwell on those sort of things.

With a stretch, he got back on his rather shaky feet, bringing one end of the bar with him. It was a bit too big for him to just carry, so he’d have to drag it. Not too bad…he got a lot of food for the price of dragging one heavy thing back to his room. Excellent. He brought it over to the edge and peered down, glaring at the forgotten bag and at the hook he could probably never get back. It still dangled uselessly from the handle…and his only access was what he’d tied around his waist. That wasn't exactly the most helpful, but…it was probably enough. With his frustration ended he was starting to remember that he’d prepared for this.

Sighing over his forgetfulness, he grabbed the string and began to try pulling the door back to him. It was a bit hard and didn't seem to want to move for him at first, but he eventually got it to start swinging shut. For the price of nearly pitching over the edge a few times, anyway. When the door was getting closer, he tugged the bar closer as he knelt, getting it up on his lap so he could hang onto it. Now he needed to wait. If he pulled the door too fast, it would creak again…he didn’t need that happening. On top of it, his ears were on a swivel once more, trying to catch signs of movement ahead of time.

When he deemed the door close enough, he pulled the string taut and let himself drop. It turned out harder than he’d thought. He was jolted harshly when he reached the end, the bar getting yanked out of his grip from the sudden change. Not only that, the door was trying to swing again. In a bit of a panic, he scrambled with the rope around his waist before letting go. He fell. Soon, he found himself being dropped right onto something, bouncing off the top and falling onto the cold and way too hard counter. He kept his mouth clamped shut to avoid shouting when he landed on his already hurt arm, then went still. Ok. At least this was it.

That was, until whatever he’d hit began to tip. A spike of terror shot through him when his ears picked up the sound of wood sliding, only to look and see something big coming right for him. He scrambled. His dull claws skittered uselessly over the smooth counter. The wood groaned loudly behind him. A whimper escaped his lips, a second before it finally came rushing down. When everything began to darken further, he just gave up and curled up instead. His arms rushed to cover his head. His tail hurried to flick out of the way. His ears pinned down tightly to his head…just as a loud BANG rang out around him.

He was shaking when he moved his arms away from his head, peeking out cautiously…to see nothing. It was pitch black, all the way to the point that his cat eyes couldn't even make out an outline. The shock and fear kept him distracted, wondering what fell. It had some sort of hold and he’d…been lucky enough to end up inside of it. When he tried to move he found his one arm protesting and…one of his legs not budging. He immediately panicked, twisting around to feel for it, only now noticing that light peered through the space between the wood and counter.

There! His hands quickly found where his leg was pinned, having been caught when the wooden item fell. He exhaled shakily, swallowing thickly as he slowly started to register the pain. No! He can't focus on it! It’ll only be worse! He sucked in a breath and moved his arm more to make it pull attention away. With that taken care of, he started trying to lift the object. He planted his hands on either side of his legs and pulled…but it didn't even budge. That wasn't good. Was he trapped? That's even worse. Ears buzzing, he opted to lay down, scooting himself to the edge and using his pinned, aching leg to his advantage.

He had to move awkwardly, but he got himself lined up with the side. Using one hand, he pushed up on the edge while using the other to get himself scooted out. For once, he was glad his body could move like a cat’s. He was nearly out now, only a few more pushes…then something in his leg grated together. The sudden pain made him nearly scream, the sound escaping loudly before a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle it. His eyes squeezed shut. His head swam. He couldn't stop the scream as it continued even while muffled behind his hand. Tears escape him, but…he can't stop.

He squirmed as he fought against the pain until he popped free, gasping air now that he wasn’t surrounded by sheer darkness. His leg was still stuck. Numbly, he acted without thinking and used his other leg to maybe attempt kicking it off. All that resulted in was fighting another scream. So he lay there, on the cold surface of the kitchen counter. Wonderful. His clothes being damp weren't helping…it made him stick more and he couldn't simply slide anymore. All Those poor decisions today led up to his moment, where he’d forgotten how dangerous maneuvering through everything was.

It was unfair, but he wasn't just going to give up. Rather, he pushed himself up to sit before scooting closer to what now looked like some sort of small shelving. Maybe for spices? No matter, he needed to get out of here. He’d been way too loud. Any minute now, a giant could come stomping into the room and capture him to do whatever they want to his pitiful self. He grit his teeth, almost in anger. Now that, the thought of treating any life as worthless, really boiled his blood endlessly. There was never any excuse for it. He tried using that anger in lifting the tiny self, hoping it would give him strength.

Except…while he was struggling to get it to move even a tad, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. At first he didn’t look, thinking it was imagined…he didn't hear anything after all. Then he remembered why pure silence and motion was bad. His head snapped to the side and he swore he lost those nine lives cats were said to have. The giant. The not human. The man was standing in the doorway. Those eyes. Those horrible eyes, right on the borrower. He saw no emotion. No care. Terror slowly crept up his spine while he registered what this meant. What that unmoving, creepy man being here meant.

It wasn’t possible. He must be imagining it. He must be. Why would that dangerous man be staring otherwise? If he was surprised, it might make sense, but…he saw nothing in that blank gaze. No hint of even looking at something. Yet he felt the pressure, the intensity of those eyes boring into him. That was the stuff of nightmares. How could he even begin to believe he was going unnoticed? The eyes were golden rather than their occasional red, but they were glowing. It wasn’t hard to tell which direction they were aimed. He couldn't keep denying it. He’d been seen. He was going to die.

—

Chapter 2

[bbygirl-aemond]

i know literally no one asked but when aemond was remembering daemon putting him over his lap this is the position i meant. it's very handy since it lets rhaenyra get a good view if she wants, but also leaves aemond's mouth and hands free if she wants to get in on the action.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[departednightmare]

Picture this:

You've just joined a new fandom. You spent your last few days finishing the source material while struggling to resist the urge to go read fanfic about your favourite pairing. That's now over, and you can bathe in the ocean of shippy fanfic without fear of spoilers!

And you know it'll be an ocean; you checked AO3 and FFN a few days ago to see how much fanfic the series has. It's a five-figure number on both sites, and obviously at least half of that will be your favourite pairing, because it's so cute! How could anyone resist it?

The day has come. You filter for the tag on AO3. 1,200 fics.

Well, that's not so bad, right? It's still a lot of fic compared to your last favourite! So you start looking.

You've gone through the entire first page. Every fic was:

A) a smut one-shot

B) a smut one-shot where the characters have a threesome (or more) with other characters who don't do anything for you

C) a collection of smut one-shots from about 80 different fandoms.

D) a story where the protag just happens to fuck their shipped partner once in chapter 80 and then the partner is relegated to the background again.

E) a "love-triangle" story where the protag can't choose between your fav and the fandom's fav. Both are lusting for her. Both possess only their best or worst traits (spoiler: your fav is the asshole in this fic's universe). Everyone in the fic wants protag to get with fandom fav -- and she does. Your fav faces some kind of cruel punishment for daring to lust after someone above his station.

F) a story about someone else. The pairing (or even just the characters) is mentioned once in the background and the author is a dick who tags ships you don't actually see in the fic.

G) a tale where protag leaves your fav for the fandom fav (again with the gross oversimplification of LI personalities; your fav is some kind of pervert or rapist here).

H) about the actual ship and isn't smut (mostly), but the author has forgotten to give the characters personality beyond "owo dat person sexy must kissy wissy".

I) it's about the ship, but the author has a boner for the wrong character and you don't get to read about the hotness of the one you totally don't have a crush on.

J) in Russian. You do not understand Russian.

K) some good fucking fic (in a language you understand).

L) PLOT TWIST: the good fucking fic was abandoned three years ago right when things were getting interesting and now you're sitting there all frustrated.

Anyway, that was my experience with Inquisitor/Blackwall two years ago. Every time I'm starved for good Blackwall content, I find myself reminded of this experience.

So I thought I'd remind others of their own unfortunate fanfic memories because I'm mean. Merry Friday! :)

[queenofbaws]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

🥹 well color me flattered you'd send this my way!!! hehehehe

the durellion affair: dragon age 2 | fhawke/varric | T | complete hawke and varric get word of a wondrous opportunity...there's a high-and-mighty orlesian family just begging to get fleeced, and maker's breath, they're ready to do some fleecing! problem is, there might be a murderer on the loose in the estate. there also might be ghosts. and a room full of cheese...? this one's a murder mystery full of intrigue, familiar faces, and - i cannot stress this enough - horrible jokes. i was grinning the whole time i was writing this ;P

still: dragon age 2 | fhawke/varric | T | complete there are lots of things hawke and varric are good at. most of them are illegal. if there's one thing they're both miserable at, however, it's, uh...sitting down and openly talking about their feelings, which is unfortunate really, because there are a lot of feelings to talk about. changing feelings. romantic feelings. BIG feelings. this fic is really just me waxing poetic about the vhawke dynamic the best way i know how: with heaps of angst and banter out of the wazoo! there's a happy ending though, i pwomise

no wealth no ruin no silver no gold: until dawn | gen | T | complete the curator swings by blackwood pines on two very unfortunate nights. he's interested in meeting the washingtons and their friends, you understand, just...well, not all of them. :) this fic is literally just an excuse for me to engage in one of my favorite pastimes - smooshing supermassive characters together like barbie dolls. the blackwood kids meet the curator! what could possibly go wrong???

the not-quite-midnight society +1: until dawn | gen | T | complete hnnnnnnGHHH i love this fic so much. this is an anthology series where, essentially, the blackwood kids sit around and tell each other spooky stories around a campfire. the events of the game do not take place, meaning hannah and beth are a-okay and toasting marshmallows like everyone else. everyone has their own story to tell, and while some are better than others, i think we all know there's only one master of horror on the mountain >:] (and it's not josh)

all in the family: until dawn/the quarry | gen | T | complete the precursor to like wringing blood from a stone, the fic i'm currently focusing on. after (miraculously) surviving the events of until dawn, jack "flamethrower guy" fiddler visits some extended family down in new york state. turns out dear sweet cousin constance and the rest of her brood are experiencing something of a problem there in hackett house...and there's really only one kind of problem you call a fiddler in to fix. this was meant to be a oneshot, but grabbed me by the throat so intensely that it turned into a full multi-chap with a sequel, so i think it's fair to say it inspired something deep inside me. take one grizzled monster hunter, add him to a house of deeply troubled people, toss in a few werewolves, and you know what you got? a bad time. a really, really bad time.

[rainydaygt]

had a little time, got some creative juices out of my system before i dive into commissions on my day off. pick your poison